Snippet #2431182

Near Castle Hawklight

Near the center of Elemnaira lies Castle Hawklight which, despite the name, is actually a huge city, the capital of the human empire in fact, with the castle itself situated in the very center of the city. The city is surrounded by high walls made of white stone forming a perfect circle around the city with four entrances, one for each cardinal direction. Beyond the walls of the castle city lie several small villages and farms which, despite the best efforts of the royal military, are often plagued by bandits and thieves out to steal whatever they can. Some of them do so because they enjoy it, others do it to spite the king.

Today such an event is occurring.

Seeing the strangers, dressed in their fine armor and riding noble looking steeds this group of bandits believed them to be knights, perhaps messengers from another land here to speak with the king. While some of the highwaymen in this are were quite clever it was obvious the leader of this particular group had more muscle than mind. His name was Thud, son of a giant and orc pairing. Standing nine feet tall and weighting somewhere in the neighborhood of six hundred pounds, all muscle, he wore bits of steel armor that were obviously too small for him, held together with strips of leather and chains. On his shoulder rested a club, which was really just a tree he had knocked over and whittled one end down to make a handle out of.

"You there, in your finemail!" Thud calls out as his men spread out behind him like a fan, numbering about twenty all together. "This is a toll road, and if you know what's good for you, you'll be handing over anything of value you have." The half-giant says, his voice a rumble of thunder, but slurred slightly, showing he might not be all there mentally.

Before Thud or any of his men could actually begin forcing Dragonmiir and his companions to hand anything over, there was a series of twangs and several of the bandits fell, almost as one. The rest turned around, looking for whoever had done this. "Archers!" One man calls out, pulling a bolt out of another man only to take on to the chest. Another round of bolts cuts down yet more men, leaving only a handful who abandon their leader and take off into the woods. A bolt hits Thud in the leg and he bellows in pain, but then a flash of understanding hits him and he too takes off, shaking his club at the lot of them.

"Our apologies for this interruption of your journey," A man says, wearing steel armor baring the Hawklight crest on his chest, as he steps out of a thicket with six other men following. "We've been after that brute and his men for weeks now, and while we have cut his numbers down I am sorry you had to be involved as a distraction." The man pauses for a moment, both to put away his crossbow and to look the group over. "I'm not sure who you are but...I have seen enough royalty in my day. Please, follow us into the city. I think the king should like to see you...if this will not detour you too far from your goal, of course."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Vyndran was barely aware of what was going on around him now. It seemed the dwarves had taken care of his request to begin escorting the villagers away, that was what mattered second most to him. Foremost on his mind at the moment was Fran, who had succumbed to what he called the Mist Blindness. If he couldn't calm her down and get her away she would likely parish this night.

"Do not worry about us. People like Fran and I walk this earth knowing that each step may be our last. If you must help, help the villagers because none of them are ready to take their last step just yet!" Vyndran calls out to Violet as she asks him what to do. Sheathing his sword he quickly swings his mandolin around with practiced ease and begins to strum a few cords, casting a simple spellsong of sleep, targeting Fran. As the melody catches up to the elven woman she would see a soft blue mist rising up all around her as the songspell soothed her soul, putting her at ease. Slinging the instrument onto his back once more once the spell had taken hold, Vyndran dashes over and grabs Fran in one arm and her sword in his free hand. Slipping it into her sheath he lifts her into his arms and begins to retreat.

While the spellsong of sleep was targeting Fran, many of the lesser demons within earshot of the melody fall asleep as well right where they are. While it was just a simple spell itself, the bond between Vyndran and Fran made his magic stronger, and vice versa. This would be enough to bring her out of her berserker mode so they could get away.

Zanarok only blinks a few times as the spellsong hits him, looking from one elf to the other before smirking and watching as they run from him. He had no reason to fight cowards. Anyone who ran, so long as they had no connection to the artifact he was looking for, would be allowed to live a little longer. However, there was a whiff of neathersteel on these two, and so as he watches the bard carry off the rare female elf, he raises one clawed hand and shadows begin to swirl around his fingers like snakes. Curling his fingers into a fist he creates a black ball about two inches across and, opening his hand once more, it shoots out, aimed right for Vyndran's spine.

Before the black magic can hit a bright light shines down on the village from high above them, and the sounds of beating wings as well as the cry of a creature can be heard. Anyone who looked up would see Samuel riding towards Zanarok, sword drawn and glowing brightly, dispelling his dark magic.