Under her Spell.

Neifion stepped through a glyph marked door, closing it behind him without even a glance in its direction as he strode toward the room down the hall of his compound.  He placed the book upon a stand in the hall then with each step Neifion allowed the persona to shed becoming Virgil once more. Gone was the dark tailored vest and shirt, the mask, hat and flowing cape only a simple white shirt under a red velvet vest and worn trousers.
He stopped at the mirror at the end of the hall confirming it was him in the reflection and not The Lord of Bats. A young man stared back. Older around the eyes that he remembered, grim faced and tired. He forced a wry smile to his lips and suddenly he recalled this young man.
This mask was a pleasant one. He would keep this one on. 

His fingers worked reflexively as they untied the plaited leather binding around his right thigh, before unbuckling his holster belt and gently wrapping the etched leather about it's contents and placing it on the edge of the table and poured most of wine from a nearby decanter into a rough wooden mug before taking a steadying breath and downing the entire contents tipping his head right back to drain the last drop. Closing his eyes as he drank it down.

Imagery of battle, torture and death flashed behind his eyelids, replaying the events of the last few months culminating into a final scene of execution.

Those images began to fade as the warmth and forgiveness of the alcohol began to embrace him.

Light filled his mind and that light then took shape. It formed the curve of a hip, the softest of skin, the most inviting of lips.

He allowed himself a brief moment and a smile. Before he felt the tingling warning of The Geas. It threatened him to stop this thinking. To stop feeling for her.

"Oh come now," mused Cynthia, breaking his moment. "It wasn't all that bad! You're the hero of Waterdeep! Everyone's talking about Neifion." He could hear her footfalls approaching and still he kept his eyes closed.
"Wanted by The Law. Feared by The Lawless."

He opened his eyes to see the red haired woman standing but inches from him eyes level with his.
"You've done it." She said with a tone of congratulatory satisfaction.
It took every ounce of will to not just lunge his head forward and drive his head into her nose. A notion Cynthia seemed to pick up on as she suddenly appeared seated at the table, smoking her trademark cinnamon cigarillo.

"Your work over the last few ten-day have bought a semblance of balance back to Waterdeep. Crime is down back in Undermountain. Corruptions have been rooted out and dealt with. The Cult of The Dragon lost an ally they didn't even know they had." She explained, counting the points off on fingers with shimmering pearl fingernails. "And, you also made some new friends. That watchman and his merry bunch of misfits seem nice!"

"They tried to arrest me at every turn."

"Nicely." She added with her charming smile. Pausing to draw in the smoke and exhale lt slowly. "I've heard whispers that your friends are on their way back to Waterdeep. You should join them at The Hoard."

Virgil's head cocked slightly to the side
"This isn't a joke, Cynthia." He growled.

"And I'm not joking," cutting him off. She waved a hand before her, leaving a streak of arcane energy that lingered in the air for a moment. He felt the mental restraint of the geas lifted from him like the weight of worlds suddenly gone. She leaned forward at the table pointing a finger at him.
"Don't force me to go this far again," she said coldly. "No one else could have achieved what you have done here. No one else! You need to understand your role in protecting Waterdeep goes beyond that of your companions."

She was right. He knew it now. Virgil would never forgive her for forcing him like this. Yet Neifion would forever be in her gratitude.

She again appeared before him. A soft finger running down his lips, chin and neck before placing her hand over his heart. She kissed him and he did not resist for he could not. As their mouths locked he felt a jolting surge of power enter his body. Cynthia wrapped a hand around his neck, grabbing his hair roughly. The other around his waist holding him to her. He felt as if he were about to break apart as his entire body contorted and jolted. He could see nothing but a searing emerald light. Then he was on the floor alone and gasping for breath. Power flowed through him. His body and mind renewed.

"Your mind is free once more, Virgil
I lend you more of my power as is your reward and right." The voice now an echo in his mind.  "You are free to pursue The Cult of The Dragon outside of Waterdeep once more. But listen for my call."

He would always listen. He understood his need. His worth.

He would always listen.

The Watch

Patrols had been doubled since the attack by the Cult of The Dragon that had been thwarted by a band of heroes. Despite the severity of the attack, no additional backlash had been seen upon the streets, yet the Masked Lords had decreed that defences be intensified until further notice.

Swordcaptain Fasille led his unit of the City Watch along the routes within his section of Waterdeep. It had been a relatively dull night in the City of Splendours. A few checks on passers by, inquiries as to their business at this hour. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He heard a yawn coming from his unit, the night had been long and quite forgettable in terms of excitement. Aside from their uniforms, they were indeed a motley looking bunch. Fasille himself was a stocky man with a neatly cropped short hair and a well groomed beard. Behind him standing nearly a clear head taller were two women, twins it seemed as their features, right down to their braids and the grim visage they wore upon their faces were near identical. 

Next, a leathery winged, red skinned figure skulked along with them, His white mane of hair divided with two spiralling obsidian like horns that symmetrically flowed down the back of his head. Aside him, walked a robed figure, cowl covering her face, a gleaming elegant blade sheathed across her back.

"Keep your eyes open," Fasille said, voice stern. "Our shift is almost done. Give it your best."

Finally, trudged a young man with blonde hair, a pony tail clasped in silver. An immaculately pressed uniform adorned his handsome frame, accentuating his features. Crossed over his tunic hung a horn, simple in design.
His eyes rolled as an audible sigh dramatically escaped his mouth at Captain Fasille's words. He'd heard him say the same thing on dozens of occasions.

"All I know is that I've two more shifts of this and I'm, - " 
His words cut short as two bolts of emerald energy sizzled into the air, capturing the attention of the entire group with their blazing green light.

"Warehouse district," Fasille called out as he turned to his group. "Sobek, Silver, scout and return!" 

The tiefling nodded, his wings unfurling with a sudden gust he sprang into the air as Felinar Silverfeld's hands weaved an intricate pattern with a feather held between her thumb and forefinger. It left visible lines of raw magic and  coupled with arcane syllables the spell took hold and she followed the tiefling into the night sky, both speeding off towards the green beam's origin.

"Learis, Treja, double time. Wrinfeld sound 'Alarm' and 'Pursuit!'" Fasille turned and ran down the road towards the bridge, the twins right behind him. Wrinfeld sighed once more. 

"I had to open my big mouth," he said before blasting three distinct rhythms alerting other watch of their intentions. In reply, other horns in the distance sounded their acknowledgement and their plan to reinforce.


Sobek and Silver landed alongside the rest as they neared the street where the beams had originated from.
"Knocked out thugs, piled on top of one another. Two patrols closing, less than two minutes out." Sobek reported without queue, Silver nodded to Fasille in agreement at the assessment.
"A green hue taints the lamps." Silver added as Fasille looked forward to see the emerald glow.

Fasille nodded at the information. "Shields and truncheons. Cordon and contain." He took point, the twins flanking him. Ahead six bodies were slumped atop one another, bleeding and battered, but breathing.  Floating above them was an illusion. A glowing green flame surrounded by fluttering bats. 

"Silver?" Fasille said with a familiar tone, prompting her to turn and assess the illusion. Fingers moving quickly, eyes closed.

"It's a calling card," she said still concentrating. "A name. Neifion?" She ended the spell.
"Scoring in several places indicate unstable energies used in this scuffle," pointing to the burn marks on the unconscious bodies. She then noticed the another mark upon the bodies. Roughly, pulling the topmost thug from the pile. A tattoo. A small triangle flanked by two elongated ones.
 "Sobek, look!" said Silver with a tone of alarm.

He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the mark, before turning to the next thug and roughly dragged him down, rolling up the sleeve of his left arm."
Fasille noticed the reaction of his two most seasoned and experienced guards. "What is it? What does that mark mean?" He asked, before returning his eyes to scanning the environment.

"Asmodeus." Sobek stated grimly. "They bare the mark of The Lord of The Nine Hells."

What Happens in Waterdeep.

Cynthia watched the two young lovers asleep in each others arms. Admittedly, she had watched them for a good portion of the night and although her initial intentions weren't voyeuristic, that quickly shifted once she had attempted to reach out to Virgil and discovered what was transpiring. Cynthia needed to contact Virgil, it was important, but it could wait.

For what she was about to ask. It could wait.

The sly demigod impressed her influence upon him and his eyes snapped open.
"Morning, Handsome. Get some clothes on and let that poor girl recover." she mused as she lit a cigarillo while walking from the room and up the hall. "We need to talk." She loudly called back.

The smells of tobacco and cinnamon assailed him as he shot a glance back to the sleeping woman next to him.
Virgil had seen her awaken from less interruption than this and just assumed this too was Cynthia's work. Especially seeing that Stedd hadn't come bounding out of bed at the first sign of a strangers voice.

He swung his feet out of the covers and stood. throwing a loose shirt on and some breeches, clumsily splashing some water in his face from the wash basin nearby before heading down the hall.

Cynthia sat feet up on the table, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, cigarillo in the other. Virgil took up a place opposite and poured himself a cup.

"What's going on?" Virgil asked, taking a sip of the hot liquid. It's bitter taste having the desired effect as he felt his senses sharpen.

"That cult you stirred up before you left," she began taking her feet off the table and leaning in. "Good job on that by the way." She complimented with an exhale of smoke, it's fragrance filling the room. Virgil nodded and let her continue.

"There has been a development on that front. Through your initial contact and my own investigation, I've determined that a few new powers are on the rise along the sword Coast. You need to come back with me to sort this uprising out and restore balance to Waterdeep's criminal and lawful element."

Virgil went to argue, his mouth opening but she raised a hand that literally stopped him from speaking.

"It's part of the gig, Virgil. You return to Waterdeep, solve this issue so that the others have a Waterdeep to return to."
She sat back, lowering her hand and taking a drink of her coffee. He felt his ability to speak return.

He felt the unease at this decision, felt the conflict within him. He also realised his opinion on this matter was moot.

"I'll leave a note." He said as Cynthia raised her hand again, this time it held a sealed envelope.

"Already done," she said flatly. "A lovely little note from myself explaining your requirement to return with me to Waterdeep so you may conduct your duties. Don't worry I'll get you back to them as soon as you're done." She confirmed in a sincere tone, slipping the sealed letter over the table. "Leave that with your dwarf companion, it'll have the desired effect should he happen upon it."

Virgil nodded, reluctantly taking the letter and moving back down the hall to the barracks he'd been provided for his companions.
All were present, save Mikarro who had taken a great interest in the workings of the ship they were all travelling on.

He left the letter standing on Ulfgar's belongings before heading back to his own quarters.

Obcaeco still slept soundly. He gathered his belongings and walked from his room, letting his eyes gaze upon her for a moment before moving back to the hall.

Cynthia stood at the end of the hall by the Red Door.

"You ready?" She asked, that wry smile still on her face."
Virgil nodded and she pressed her palm upon its ornate surface. Various locks and mechanisms could be heard responding to her touch. It swung open slowly revealing a long hall lit by sconces.

"Ladies first," Cynthia said, gesturing for Virgil to enter.

Shaking his head with a sigh, he crossed over the threshold leaving his companions behind.

Cynthia - Interlude.

Virgil's book glowed the dark red that he'd come to despise. This woman in charge, Cynthia had come in and thrown her weight around, changing this and that, his lovely green flames now this vile crimson colour.

He stared at the cover, not wanting to open it. His reluctance came from a fear of what he might become if he was stripped of his powers. What if this new Neifion took from him the one thing that had turned his life to good?

Could he go back to being, Just Virgil?

Additionally, he hated that fucking red glow.

He stuffed the journal back into his satchel and sealed it away, before settling down for the night.
The campfire crackling lightly as Mikarro and Lirra took watch.

He tipped his hat over his face and settled back into his bedroll, sleep coming easily despite after the events of the last few days.

The dreams came again. A dream that was becoming more and more common. It was a welcomed dream.
Bodies writhing, sensations heightened. A distortion of light and reality.
His focus cleared, expecting to see the face of a the woman he longed for. To his surprise it was a face that took him a moment to recognise.
Cynthia!

"Do I have your attention now?" She cooed, a smirk on her face.

Virgil flung her from atop him and the scene shifted quickly and seamlessly, to a scenario of his sanctuary and the familiar crackle of the fireplace near the round table set with a deck of cards, two chairs aside it. Cynthia sat, feet upon the table a cigarillo between fingers. It's smoke permeated the room with a rich wooden tobacco scent.
She wore a short sleeved vest of shiny black material, buttoned across her chest save the top two, leaving nothing of her figure to the imagination. Her legs clad in a similar black material and long boots worn over them that were embossed with a tangle of thorns.
Her long brown hair fell across her shoulder onto her bare arms. the flickering light of the fire catching in the sheen from it.

"You don't call, you don't write." She said, taking the Cigarillo between her lips and drawing back the smoke, its red tip flaring.
"What is a girl meant to think?" she asked after a long exhale. The smoke wafting in his direction. Her voice carrying a overacted tone of incredulity.

Virgil noted the still reddish tinge of the firelight. The tint she had inflicted upon his sanctuary as part of showing off her new dominion over him and the others. 

She'd killed and clawed her way to a point where she'd amassed enough power to overthrow a greater denizen of the fey and usurp it's power for her own. 

Thankfully, he was clothed again, making this dream a little more bareable. He moved closer to the table and Cynthia's leg shifted, nudging the pushed-in chair back, allowing him to sit across from her. He did so, one hand reflexively falling to the deck of cards. He felt their weight, their shape, before beginning to shuffle the deck, not taking his eyes from hers.

"I was just doing what you asked," he began. "Keeping out of your way, doing my own thing."

He dealt two out each and placed four down in the centre between them, face down.

"I guess there's no point in actually playing, huh?" he asked. Taking a quick peek down at his cards before returning his eyes to the woman opposite her.
She kept her eyes on him taking a slow glance down at her cards before looking back to Virgil.
No twitches, no tells.

"Oh no," she replied keeping her eyes steeled on his. "This is your dream. I'm just visiting. And I wouldn't dare cheat."
Virgil left his cards where they were leaning in and dropping any pretence of playing the hand.

"You know what I'm working on right now, don't you?" He said. "You know what's at stake?"

Cynthia nodded as he spoke, taking in his words before she too leaned in, mimicking his movements.

"I didn't at first," she answered, "I was busy trying to overthrow an archaic and corrupt institution, so I was a little preoccupied."

Virgil scoff was cut short as she continued, raising her index finger as if to silence him.

"But! A short time after taking control, I took stock of what each Shade was dealing with and I've got to admit, You've got your work cut out for you."  she paused a moment to take a deep draw of her cigarillo before offering it to her reluctant charge. "I didn't expect someone in my order would be at the tip of the spear in an offensive to thwart The Cult of The Dragon."

Virgil reached out with a calm hand, taking the cigarillo from her before placing it between his own lips and drawing in the tobacco.

"You can keep that," She remarked, smoke coming out of her nose and mouth as a lithe hand reached into her jacket hanging from the she was seated on. A brief rummage later, Cynthia placed a small silver box on the table, producing another cigarillo from within.

"Alright," Virgil says exhaling sharply, "You've got my attention. What do you want?"

"I want to offer you, My dear Virgil, My full assistance." She states before adding quickly, "And assurance that I am not here to hinder your task."

"Good, you can start by changing the fucking fire in here and the colour of Thorne back to green." He says bluntly, allowing an heir of frustration within his voice to show.

"Done!" She says chuckling, waving her hand. as the familiar greenish tinge returned to the room. "That was not the first request that I was expecting," She admitted, still smiling that charming, perfect smile that Virgil couldn't deny was alluring.  He could taste something on his lips, left on the cigarillo that Cynthia had passed to him. Cinnamon?

"That's it." Virgil stated,  before his face became stern, "oh, and don't strip me of my powers. People are depending on me now. It's not just about me any more." It was then that Cynthia saw it for a moment, a crack in his perfectly unshakeable visage. His face had the intimidating coolness that he so often wore, but his eyes.
His eyes were pleading.

Cynthia kept her demeanour in check, not wanting to show that she'd seen Virgil's tell.
"Virgil," she began, her tone warm and assuring, "You and your predecessor are what I am looking to cultivate within our order." She kept her smile sincere, "You need not fear me, so long as you keep doing this good work."

He nodded, relieved to hear the words he needed to believe were true.
"Well in that case, would you mind letting me get back to sleep?" He asked, a wry smirk forming on his face. "Big day of 'hero stuff' tomorrow."

Cynthia let out a loud "Ha!" Before standing and drawing her jacket from the chair and swinging it across her shoulders.  "I interrupted quite the sweaty dream," She cooed again in that same tone he heard earlier in the night. "You had no intention of any restful sleep."

Virgil dropped his gaze and stood also, left without words to say.
Cynthia moved from the table towards the exit. "You should really make that dream a reality, she's cute, and so very strong." She added, stopping inches from Virgil's face. He could smell the cinnamon on her breath as she stood dangerously close.
"Unless you want to make ours a reality." She said, her seductive presence brought to bare. Virgil pointed  down the hall, keep his eyes on hers.

"Door's that way. Let yourself out."

Cynthia shrugged and nodded before walking past him down the hall.
"Well, if you ever change your mind, you know how to find me." She stopped at the door and opened it, looking back over her shoulder.
"There's perks to be had for bedding the boss."

"In your dreams, perhaps." Virgil retorted. "Not mine."

Poker Face.

The newly formed hall in Virgil's sanctum stood empty before him, unlit and hollow. It's stonework, beautiful and unblemished, save the two dozen scorch marks on the back wall.

Sleeves rolled up, jacket and wide brimmed hat thrown unfavourably in a corner, Virgil readjusted Thorn's ornate holster to a new position before buckling it again. He hoped this new angle would allow Thorn to be easily drawn and brought to bare. He knew this new position left Thorn visible, presented to any that would stand before him. Gone now was any pretence for  discretion.

Virgil used his powers of Prestigitation and summoned two small floating illusory targets before closing his eyes, hand poised above Thorns ornate grip.
Muscles sprang as he opened his eyes and went for Thorn. His hand found the grip and he drew, loosing two bolts in rapid succession.
The first came close, finding the wall just to the side of the conjured target. The second struck the spot where the target has been, it already having faded from sight.
Not fast enough, Virgil. He heard the voice, his voice, in his mind.
Whoever is killing the other Shades is going to take you down like a lame dog.

He'd been at it for hours now, a combination of fatigue and frustration had hold of him. This new threat had him worried. Whomever this was had skill and experience that clearly surpassed his own. He felt this new fear trying to take root. His was no magical fear like he had faced with the dragon, no this was a fear that he hadn't felt since early his early adolescence. The fear of losing.
"No," he whispered to himself, attempting to dismiss the tangible fear around him. "No!"

A long moment later came a knock from his door that echoed into the stone hall.
A sudden realization that it must be late. He and Obcaeco were heading out tonight to see if they could shake loose any information of this  'Shade Killer' from the criminal element of Waterdeep.
He strode to the door as he smoothed down his sleeves and donned his coat and hat before using his magics to clean away the sweat and turn the fabrics to the blacks and greys of his alter ego. He paused at the door, took a steadying breath and allowed the mask of arrogance to settle back upon his face before swinging it open.
She stood there before him, in the outfit he had secretly fashioned for her. A vision of beauty and strength.
She smiled her tiny smile. The smile was his to see for no one else.

"Shall we?"

Before We Go.

The portal stood before them. A circular glyph of arcane scrawling.

Virgil halted a few feet before walking into the teleportation ring, Turning turning to face his companions.

"Guys, wait a moment," he said, holding up a hand. "I've got no idea what is beyond that portal, but I just wanted to say that traveling with you all has made me feel like we can achieve the impossible."
The faces look back on him all read differently.
Ulfgar's proud knowing face. The voice of reason, the rock of conscience.
Stedd wore his grim demeanour, eyes darting here and there watching for any slight movement or imminent danger. Virgil could see the weight of decision and consequence upon his face. He knew Stedd was fighting a guilt from a decision that had nearly cost the lives of his friends.
Lirra, leaned against her great spear, calm and relaxed. The confidence she showed, it empowered them. Virgil knew this to be fact.
Virgil looked to Obcaeco. The girl blinded literally by her faith and lineage. Half angel, half human. The one who sees much, and sees no more. 
She smiled when Virgil's gaze fell upon her. It was a kind, warm smile. A smile of one who is fighting a battle within, yet shows none of it to those around them.

"Ulfgar," Virgil said breaking from his inner thoughts. "How about a prayer before we leave?

Virgil took a knee in front of the armoured dwarf.
Stedd was first to kneel with Virgil, then Obcaeco, and Lirra as Ulfgar looked upon those before him for the briefest moment before he began. 

"Family comes to us in times of need," his words and tone fatherly and warm. "It is not the family of lineage, but the family that is forged in times of strife and struggle." Ulfgar closed his eyes, a hand hovering above the heads of these brave folk before him. 

"Mother Truesilver, I call to you now. 

To look upon us in this time of strife.

Let this family be forever watched over. 

Let their faith in each other strengthen them. 

Let their courage be bolstered in times of fear.

Let no force break their bonds to one another."

There was a pause. Only the dripping of the water in the adjacent caverns could be heard. 

"Ye can stand up now," Ulfgar chuckled. "We got work to do."

 

Together they rose, as Virgil took a deep, steadying breath.

"Alright," He said, drawing Thorn giving it a customary look over. The cool green crystal housed within the core of the device pulsed slowly at his touch, reassuring him of it's readiness.

"Let's get this done."

Sea Tower Aftermath.

"Are ye alright, Lad?" came the gruff but calm voice from behind Virgil as he picked himself up off the turrets cold floor. He ached from a dozen or more blows, cuts and abrasions.
"Ulfgar," he said weakly, taking one step towards the armoured dwarf before the world begun to spin again.
"Woah, easy there, lad." Ulfgar braced Virgil with a strong gauntleted hand. "May the light of Berroner Truesilver return ye strength."

Virgil felt a hot flash race up his arm and settle in his chest. With each breath the warmth spread to all his limbs as his vision and balance righted.
"The battle is won," He surmised, "No shortages of casualties on either side though." The two of them looked over the turret's walls to the courtyard where strewn about lay the dead and dying on both side. "I'll be down there healing what I can," Ulfgar said. The dwarf lingered a moment longer, assessing Virgil's condition with a trained eye before stomping off towards the wounded.
Virgil gazed at the scene below. The horror of battle splayed before him like a grotesque mural. A telltale glow came from the satchel he wore at his side, drawing his attention. The tome's pages lit up the area under his long coat as he withdrew it and held the leather bound book on both hands. As expected the book flipped open, stopping on an empty page that begun to fill with that distinct letters with long thin bodies and sharp short serifs. 

These were the words of Neifion.

'The fey creatures, born of fear and blood descend upon you. You must cleanse the blood upon the soil. Do this quickly lest your allies be overrun.'
Virgil knew better than to argue with the words. He recalled those wicked yellow creatures burst from the fleeing men, Saw what they did to the others that they had fought against.
He moved to the edge of the tower, leveling Thorn at the ground and loosed an emerald bolt with a resounding crack! Soldiers looked up at him with surprise, weapons at the ready.
"Move the bodies, wounded or otherwise to the entrance!" He shouted down to the courtyard. Over his shoulder he beckoned to the group of veterans he had just fought alongside, "You lot, Come with me, we need to burn the battlefield now!"
The bloodied veterans didn't even hesitate as Virgil sped towards the stairs, passing Lirra on the way down.
"Spread the boxes of alcohol across the blood, as much as you can, and quick!" he ordered, stopping to speak with Lirra. When they were alone he dismissed his illusory mask, smiling in her direction.

"You're alive." She stated flatly, looking at the sword in his hand. Virgil's smile shifted  awkwardly.
"I am, thanks to your training." He offered politely. She looked him up and down briefly.
"You look terrible. You need more training." She stated flatly "put that away before you stab yourself." She brushed past him, continuing her ascent to the top of the tower. He blinked a few times, letting that sink in before he continued down to the courtyard. 

The soldiers had gotten to work, rounding up other survivors as they smashed open crates and spread the liquid around liberally.

Virgil thought he spotted a patch of red mushroom caps sprouting from the blood on the field. Yes, before his eyes he watched as the patch begun to grow.  He grabbed a bottle from a nearby crate biting down on the the cork and giving the bottle  of a very old and very expensive looking brandy a twist. With an audible 'pop' he spat the cork and took a swig of the strong liquid before hurling it at the patch, focusing his fey given talents upon its contents before igniting it with a click of his fingers.

The flames roared up, shrivelling the red capped fungus. 

The blue flames suddenly turned green and roared anew as Virgil took control of them, willing them across to the other spilled grog. 

It caught easily and in moments the battlefield was ablaze with a pyre of green flame. 

The soldiers continued to hurl the bottles into the magical inferno and cheered at the spectacle of the masked man with the black eyes consecrating the ground. 

'Time for a bit of showmanship.' Virgil thought as he begun to swirl his hands, gathering the fire into one area, it's magical flames casting an emerald hue across the area. Brighter and brighter the bonfire became. 

The fire then took the form of a giant bat stretching it's wings before it sped into the air a short distance before bursting in a bright green flash.

As eyes adjusted, they looked back upon the battle field to see a single large distinctive letter aflame in the centre of the field. An extravagant 'N' with a long thin body and sharp, short sarefs.  It remained aflame for a few moments before flickering away. Just enough for all at the tower to see. 

 It was all the power he could muster, nut he knew it would be enough. All the best stories start in spectacle and rumor. From one ear to another they travel before they take on a life of their own. He would help it grow. Nurture and care for it. 

The masked man with the black eyes walked from the courtyard, long coat billowing behind him and all traces of battle gone from his attire. It was as if he had never been touched. He tipped his hat as he passed the soldiers, their torch flames turning green as he walked by. 

Under the guise he was shaken and shocked. He had survived a major battle where others had not. 

He showed none of this now for he had a reputation to build after all. 

And presentation was key.