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.

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.

Thirty Three Days

Day 1

Journal Entry. Day 1
Location: Outskirts of Waterdeep.

We are split.

Coming out of yet another, how should I put this, "less than trustworthy" performance from Stedd in the face of danger, we are now burdened with the additional duty of watching over Stedd's niece.

In case I don't survive for what ever reason, it should be recorded for posterity that Kerri, (Stedd's Niece), seems to be transition from "Human" to "Other." 

With our previous run in with The Hags of Baldur's Gate, I'd hoped that we had stopped this whatever curse had her from happening.  Despite our best efforts to protect her from this fate, she is changing into one of these evil freaks.

To top it off, Henry, in all is infinite wisdom has suggested that she come with us. 

I hadn't said a word after Stedd's latest episode of fear. That changed once Henry presented us with this latest great idea.

I broke my silence, suggesting that Stedd take Kerri to a safer place and lie low. Redlarch or Lirra's School.

Anywhere but with us. Dealing with this Dragon Cult nonsense was becoming hard enough with out the added treat of an ally turning and running at every sign of something dangerous.

I was surprised that Stedd agreed with us. It made sense to him and I was relieved, for about six seconds, until others decided against this course of action.

I didn't push the issue, being utterly exhausted by this latest round of bullshit. I pointed my horse in the direction of Daggerford and rode on.

Cynthia,
I've got nothing on this one. A little help would be appreciated.
If she grows a second head or something, I'll let you know.

V.C

Day 6

Journal Entry. Day 6
Location: Outskirts of Daggerford

I've kept as much of an eye on her and the others as I could without bringing attention to myself. Watching them all interact with her has given me an insight to their motives.
Our resident Dragonborn has kept close to her, at first it was subtle but the more I watched, the more I realised why he was keeping close.

V.C

Mikarro moved up and down the column of the Initiative's travelling rank on Filkati, his massive reptillian quadruped. Obcaeco and Virgil were following the road at the head of the group. Talk amongst those two had lessened since the Initiatives new arrival. Ulfgar kept his spot in the middle of the group. The usually jovial dwarf was now sullen and quiet, his brow in a constant furrow. Mikarro suspected this was due to his current attempts at alleviating the poor girls condition had all but failed with his ministrations providing only temporary solutions that soon reverted back.

Stedd looked haggard, eyes sunken and pale. This frail, sensitive human being at his most vulnerable with his blood kin undergoing this strange transformation. Stedd had barely slept a since her arrival. Wracked by dreams as rested. Mikarro had noticed this as he suspected the others had too.

Kerri clung to Stedd, riding pillion. He'd noted that at first, even Stedd's horse was unsettled by her presence. As he patrolled the line of travellers he visually checked in on her. The reports of her growing power worried him, although his stoic reptilian face kept these feelings well shielded to the others. Considering even her appearance was now vastly different to that of the sweet girl he had travelled with to Waterdeep, he knew that she'd be a talking point in any village or town if she were spotted.
He watched her closely while she trained with Obcaeco, who for all intents and purposes, had embraced this newcomer and was eager to help her develop her powers.
When they trained, his gaze was locked on her with every incantation she muttered, every motion she made as she practised.

Kerri's need to consume raw flesh is what effected the group the most. It was common for his kind to on occasion eat raw flesh when necessary, but for a young, human girl! 

He could see that everyone was abhorred by this behaviour, yet perhaps for Stedd's benefit, all remained silent.

Often he found his hand moving to his hammer instinctively when he saw this, stopping himself before anyone noticed.

He hoped her manifesting powers could be controlled.

He did not want to entertain an outcome where she could not.

Day 11

Journal Entry. Day 11.

Kerri's body continues to contort as her bones creak and extend. Her revulsion of standard food grows. She's now unable to eat anything but raw meat. Ulfgar has brought to bare all but the most powerful of his healing abilities his God has to offer with no real success. I can see it in his whole body that he's not used to this kind of failure. Trying to stay focused on our current task is becoming increasingly difficult as the group continues to pay more attention to the problem travelling with us instead of the real goal.

I feel for Ulfgar. Failure doesn't suit him one bit.

V.C

"Mother, bless us and keep us strong and unified. Bless this group as a family and watch over us as we undertake this task." Ulfgar prayed, eyes shut and hands clasped around his holy symbol. The metal of the two circles digging into his calloused palms and fingers.
"Mother bless young Kerri and grant her the will to cling to what makes her good and decent." His hands began to shudder slightly with the force of which he clasped his symbol.
"Mother, bless Stedd and impart strength enough to hang on for his dear niece. Grant him the grace to overcome his fears," barely pausing between each prayer, his words more fervently spoken as he continued.

"Mother, bless our protectors, Mikarro and Lirra. Their unwavering courage is a beacon of hope to our family. Guide their hands and hearts.

"Mother, bless Obcaeco and Virgil, that they may share each of their qualities in equal measure. Let Obcaeco's love of all things open Virgil's heart and let Virgil's resolve temper that same love with wisdom."

After a brief pause, Ulfgar continued, his own blood now oozing out between clenched fingers.
"Mother, I beg you. Grant me the strength to cure this child and restore this families spirit. Take what you need from me. I offer my all to see this done."

He opened his moistened eyes and wiped them quickly with the back of his hands before looking at his blood soaked palms. The twin circles having cut deep marks into them. He closed his eyes and breathed a restorative prayer, feeling the flesh of his hands knit back together with a tingling warmth.

He noticed Mikarro dressing a brace of rabbits that he must have gone out and caught during his final watch. He felt the sadness return to his face as he looked down on Kerri and Stedd. Both sleeping restlessly and knowing that at least one of those rabbits were probably for her, with the others going to Filkati, Mikarro's reptilian mount.

"Dragonspear Castle is only a few hours out," Virgil said in a voice that carried across the small camp, snapping him out of his thoughts. "We can be past it before mid morning if we hustle." 

Stedd, Kerri and Obcaeco stirred at the sound of his raised voice.

Ulfgar gave the young man a nod and Virgil nodded back. His face holding that neutral, emotionless look he'd been maintaining since Waterdeep. Ulfgar watched the lad expertly adjust his horse's saddle and harness before swinging up onto its back and setting a trot for a distance then into a canter. 

Had Virgil watched as Ulfgar poured out his most desperate pleas to Mother Truesilver?

He couldn't be sure.

Day 19

Journal Entry: Day 19

When I asked Stedd to leave on the outskirts of Waterdeep, It wasn't out of anger, or selfishness or even cruelty. When I think about it, which I find myself doing a lot these days, I realise it came from A place of defeat. Kerri's arrival took the last part of me that thought he'd be able to turn his fear around, become a hero that we all needed him to be. 

Now I can't even begrudge him his cowardice.

He has a monster to take care of.
V.C.



"Hold here!" Stedd heard Virgil shout from the front of the group.
He brought his horse to a halt quicker than he wanted. The tension in the reins caused his horse to jolt
and he felt the claw-like nails of his niece dig into his torso.
He winced but did his best to hide the pain, not wanting to upset her.

Dreams had plagued the small amount of sleep he'd been able to get since taking Kerri from Henry.
The days travelled blended into one another. At rest breaks he would watch Kerri train with Obcaeco. Watching and praying that whatever this change was that was consuming her wouldn't consume her humanity.

His eyes scanned the group, looking for any change in their moods that might indicate a threat to Kerri. He had to watch out. Had to keep alert. Had to keep her safe.
Lirra was already out of the saddle, stretching lithely like a cat warming itself in the sun. When Lirra's eyes passed over them, he felt their indifference, their lack of respect.
Mikarro rode past them, moving to the front of the column and he nodded briefly as their eyes met.
Ulfgar slowly climbed out of the saddle and dropped down, his shoulders visibly slumped, every day he'd helped Kerri with a spell or a prayer, alleviating some of her symptoms but this morning he hadn't even tried.

"Uncle, can I please go and train with Obcaeco?" he heard Kerri ask from behind him.
"huh?" he stammered, before the sentence formed and made sense a moment later. "Su- Sure, Kerri." He answered as she dropped from the saddle, causing the horse to move a few steps away from her.

"Come along, Kerri," came Obcaeco's melodic voice. " Let us work on your focus today."
Stedd forced a small smile onto his face as he watched the two move into a clearing off the road a short way.
For a moment Kerri was just a girl in a field, playing with a friend. The moment vanished back to reality as the wind picked up, making Kerri's cloak billow, revealing her gangly limbs and greyish coloured flesh.
"What am I going to do?" he mouthed to himself as he climbed off the horse, walking it up to where Virgil had sunk a steak into the soft ground off the road and gathered the other mounts.
He smelled the now all too familiar scent of a rabbit being dressed and prepared to cook. One lone rabbit from the brace being kept aside for his Niece's disturbing new appetites.

He sighed, hands on hips and head down looking at his own feet as a nervous sweat dripped off his nose. "What am I going to do?" he said to himself, closing his eyes.
Flashes of the nightmares he had played over and over again. Images of his sister and Omearon. Of his Sister's death! Of Kerri as a babe, his sister defending her from Omearon and a wicked blade!
He forced his eyes to open, finding him self almost labouring for breath.

Stedd's eyes locked with Virgil for a moment. The calm emotionless demeanour hadn't shifted once since their departure with Kerri. He could only hold his gaze with those eyes of pure darkness for a second before looking away not daring to look back save for a small sideways look.
Virgil had already gone back to tending his horse by this point. Had he just imagined Virgil staring at him? He shook his head. Not sure of what to think.
Virgil's silence was not helping anything. He knew the man he bonded with at Greenest didn't trust him anymore and why should he? He felt so isolated in these moments and he was truly terrified.

What could he do to stop this?

What could anyone do?

Day 23

Journal Entry: Day 23
Outskirts of Boarskyer Bridge.

When I first met Lirra I never would have thought in a thousand years we would be, friends? Business Partners? Comrades in Arms?

In all that is currently going on, her attitude and rationale to this situation is the only thing making sense to me. 

Obcaeco's naivety has been completely infuriating these past two tenday. Her incessant optimism has been a growing source of frustration.

Lirra's fiery temperament and whimsical personality will not be quenched despite all that is happening. She's not made a move towards Stedd or Kerri this whole journey. She's refusing to have anything to to with them has been one of the only grounding factors in this whole mess.

If things go south, She may be the only one I can count on.

V.C.

When the Boarskyer Bridge and the dozens of large pavilion tents that were set up on its opposite side came into view Lirra grinned.

She trotted up next to Virgil, his hat pulled low to ward off the bright sun. 

"Finally some other people to talk to than you lot!" She exclaimed joyfully. Virgil took no offence as he knew her well enough to know she meant none.

Lirra looked back over her shoulder to see the others closing in behind. Stedd had covered Kerri in his cloak, covering her increasingly garish appearance. 

She frowned openly at the sight of those two.

"Mother and Father would have been able to help those two more than we ever could," she said nonchalantly to Virgil as they approached. "Uncle Renwick would have her back to herself in no time. Maybe they could find Stedd a spare backbone."

If she intended to elicit a reaction from Virgil, she didn't show it. Her eyes not leaving the first real sign of civilisation they'd seen in over a tenday. 

Lirra's attention was caught by a sign nearby indicating an one of the larger pavilions was set up as an inn. 

"I'll go and set us up some rooms for the rest of the day." Lirra said before trotting ahead, leaving Virgil alone to wait for the others.

Day 25

Journal Entry: Day 25

Location: Trail leading towards Serpent Hills.

I knew she'd disagree with my outlook on this whole situation.
She's as much about family and love as the Dwarf is on any given day.

But how is it possible to immediately look past the horror of a moment to immediately see the good?

Her goal in everything is to bring the light to all who have lost it. To show through her actions that there is no opposing force that will diminish her resolve.

This, unfortunately, goes double for me.

She urges me to help Kerri. To show her the finer points of how I fight. To which I've flatly refused. I expect an argument, every time she asks me.

I want to argue. 

To tell her she's being stupid, that she could be training a thing we may have to someday put down.
Every day she's asks me to help. I refuse, silence being my answer. She smiles and leaves.

She sees the potential in Kerri when all I am looking for is a way to make it some one else's problem. 

We have bigger fish to fry without our focus being scattered by this.

She believes that there's a way for us all to help Kerri become more than this curse. 

She still believes in me even though I've done nothing is late to earn her favour.

V.C

Obcaeco awoke, sitting up and stretching before letting her senses adjust to her immediate surroundings. Ulfgar had summoned the days breakfast and it smelled delightful.
She moved to the area the food had been laid out, nimbly stepping over some jagged rocks along the way.

She walked Virgil who was sitting against his horses saddle, journal in hand. She a smile as she passed. Her hand touched the shoulder of Ulfgar as she knelt beside him and took some the warm bread and pulled a small part off before placing it delicately into her mouth.

"My thanks, Ulfgar." She said,  sensing him nod in acknowledgement.

"My pleasure as always, lass." He answered somewhat solemnly. His tone of late reflecting the slump of his shoulders, his posture in sitting.  She could feel the doubt in his heart. The uncertainty beginning to take root there.

She squeezed his shoulder again as she stood with her bread, widening her senses and detecting the others. Virgil had moved to the horses, Mikarro was astride Filkati. The great reptilian beast loped about the perimeter of the camp. Lirra was training quietly, putting her body through exercises to enhance her flexibility.

"Hello, Obcaeco." Came the voice of the young girl, Kerri.

Obcaeco tilted her head in the direction of the child's voice sensing her and Stedd approaching.

She smiled a genuine smile at the two.

"Hello to you both," she beamed as she finished off her piece of bread. "What shall we work on today, Kerri?" She asked, taking her arm.

"You," Stedd stumbling over his words in a low tone, "you don't have to do this, Cake."

Obcaeco only smiled to Stedd, gently wresting Kerri away from him.

"Breakfast is served, Stedd. Go and get yourself some food and drink," Obcaeco gestured with her free hand back to the camps direction. "Kerri and I will be over here." Pointing in the opposite direction to a clearing not too far off the trail.

Stedd went to object, then suddenly realised that he didn't have it in him to do so. Obcaeco sensed his hesitation and merely smiled, bowing slightly before turning with Kerri and heading for the nearby clearing. A slight breeze caused the long grass in the area to dance and sway, the sound of its whisper pleasing her.

"Why are you helping me, Cake?" Kerri asked. Obcaeco continued to walk with her toward the clearing. "Aren't you worried like the others?"

She wasn't oblivious to this girls plight. In fact she was the more attuned to it than anyone else. Yet she also knew that this poor girl was in a state of transition so horrifying to her and those around her that she flatly refused to allow that horror to ostracise her from Kerri.

Without hesitating she answered, "We train to focus our talents that we may use them to benefit others that are in need of them." 

They walked together a few more paces in silence before Kerri spoke up.

"But how can I anyone when I look like, like this?" She held her clawed arms out in front of her.

"I cannot see you like others do, Kerri. Your appearance does not determine your heart." She explained, pausing to face the girl. "And don't let anyone tell otherwise."

Kerri's stifled tears flowed and Obcaeco drew her close, holding her, soothing her with quiet a quiet
'shh', like a mother would with a crying babe.

Obcaeco knew now more than ever that she may be the only thing stopping Kerri from believing she was a monster.

She took no pride in this. Expected no adulation. She would do what she believed was right. 

She would not judge the fear beset in her companions. 

She would not scorn the man who she cared for so much.

For what kind of monster would she herself become if she didn't help Kerri?

Day 33

Journal Entry. Day 33

Outside some bloody crypt in the Serpent Hills.

Where to start....
Cynthia, if you're reading this (and I hope you are), skip to the end for the important stuff. If you want to read on, sit down, grab a drink. It's been one hell of a ride.

In the last eight days I've  been able to track my way into this gods awful place. 

We encountered yet another hag during our watch. She approached us willingly, baring gifts. The gift of information. Stedd ended her life. I was truly impressed.

We now have a name and a possible means to give Kerri some semblance of a future.

From what we now know it sounds like her fate to become a hag is sealed. However, it looks as if we can grant her freedom of mind. She will retain her will.

This is somewhat of a consolation prize in the long run. Her young life will be forever changed by this event.

Another good thing at least to come from this new information was the galvanising effect it has had upon the group. We all agree that once this Dragon Cult leader has been grabbed, we will go after the hag behind the whole thing. I can use this new drive to achieve our goals in the long term. The group is far more open to ideas when they believe they're doing the right thing.

We arrived at the crypt this morning to find corpses of men and women strewn about.
With some warning and luck we survived an ambush from the Cult of The Dragon.
We all faced, Stedd included, another red dragon and it's allies and won.

The only issue with this current attack was that they knew we were coming. Either we've proven a big enough threat that they're tracking us somehow by magical means, or we are leaving a trail of our own, either accidentally or intentionally.
We turned out all our pockets in case we were carrying something that they were using to track us and have taken cautionary steps. We wont know if it is enough or not at this point.

V.C

P.S - 

Cynthia, we have the name of the hag behind this whole mess with Kerri.
Grandmother Agatha.
Can you sniff around and find out any information as to her whereabouts. She will be our next target.
Also,
I know I'm asking a lot, but if you've got means to figure out how we're being tracked, that'd be good to know.
- Virgil.

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?"

Tonight

Virgil noticed Obcaeco's strength looked to be returning. Whatever medicine had been provided to her seemed to be working.

There was no denying that something had been developing on an emotional level that put him in a state of unrest. This was something new, something foreign. Beyond a moment, this lingered and grew with a life of its own.

He thought back to the battle with the white dragon. The fear and excitement he had felt in that moment had suddenly frozen at the sight of Obcaeco being struck by the great beasts frigid blast. 

A feeling of loss so profound had struck him that he abandoned his own instincts of self preservation to get to her, to the point where some gift from Neifion manifested and allowed him to jump through planes of existence and appear next to her cold, near lifeless body.

His dexterous hands, always so stable now shook as he had tried to administer the healing fluid to her. The dark liquid splashed upon her lips and provided a false semblance of colour. He had watched as the fluid began its magical work. Her skin began to flush with healthy colour, returning to it's radiant pink hue, moving further from the pale white that the frost blast had inflicted upon her. A deep, gasping breath followed by several ragged coughs burst from her body as she had jolted near upright as Virgil clung on to her, thankful for the life that flooded back into her body.

The trip back to Waterdeep had only nurtured this new force within him now. Although it had been left unsaid between them, he felt a reciprocated bond growing. Lingering touches, he would be caught looking in her direction by her supernatural senses.

Lirra's family had arrived in Waterdeep a few days after their arrival. Virgil had never seen Lirra so vibrant and joyful. She bounced around like a child. Yet still, Obcaeco was not herself, more withdrawn than normal. That battle lust she'd exhibited had not resurfaced, withdrawn to a point that kept Virgil's attention fixed upon her.

Toasts were made, food was eaten and Virgil used all of his charm to make the night as palatable as possible. The joy on Lirra's face wasn't lost on him. He did his best to make it a good night for her, even as his mind wandered to things that he could do to help improve Obcaeco's mood.

It wasn't till the late hours of that night that he had a sudden epiphany. He would act upon his idea come morning. 

Obcaeco moved through the motions of the day. Her mind occupied, quite literally by an entity she didn't understand. She could detect with her senses that the others had already left. She heard no heartbeats within her companions rooms. 

Her senses guided her downstairs to the common room of the tavern where she detected Ulfgar seated at a nearby table. The favourable scents of freshly brewed coffee baked bread with cinnamon filled the room. 

"How ye feelin, Lass? Ulfgar asked as he rose from his chair and pulled the adjacent one out for her. 

"Better," she answered quietly, seating herself before delicately pulling apart one of the sweet smelling rolls set out on the table.

"This is Stedd's handiwork," she said after tasting a morsel of the soft bread. Ulfgar chuckled into his mug of spiced mead. 

"Aye it surely is," he replied after wiping a forearm over his mouth. "The boys got a talent!" He reached over and grabbed one of the rolls for himself and ate it in a much less delicate fashion than young monk had demonstrated. 

"Where are the others?" She askes between bites. Ulfgar looked around and motioned towards the door. "Young Lirra an' her kin are making preparations for their big fight." He began. "Virgil I had not seen leave, maybe he's still asleep?" 

"He's not." She added and Ulfgar knew better than to disagree. Her supernatural attunement to sound could be trusted. 

"If ye need me, Lass I'll be tendin to some work at the temple down the road." Ulfgsir said as he rose and wiped his mouth again with his forearm. She detected the faint rustle of fine fabric scented with  various oils as Ulfgar picked up his vestments and placed them over his clothes. 

His large calloused hand gently touched her shoulder as he passed. She acknowledged his gesture with a faint smile in his direction as he made his way out. 

She sat alone now at a table made to seat six. Just her and the voice within her head remained.

It wasn't until Midday that Virgil bustled through the door of the inn. The place now quite busy with the lunch time crowd. Despite the number of people in the room, Obcaeco detected his presence and she turned her head to his direction and he pointed upstairs, towards their rooms.

She stood and walked up the stairs, into his room, leaving the door open for him as he entered a moment later.
His heart beat faster, he was excited about something, she knew this just through his movements.

"I have the greatest idea for some fun!" He stated, unclasping the buckle on his bag of holding before producing a large flat box, placing it on the bed before Obcaeco.
"I got you a present!" He said, the excitement not leaving his voice.
She moved to the bed and opened the box.  Scents of lavender and jasmine greeted her as her hands moved the soft tissue paper to the side with a faint rustle. Her hands moved to the item below. Soft velvet and linen, embroidered with an all too familiar symbol of Tyr upon a stiffened collar.
A tunic, breeches sash and an extended cowl to cover her strange, beautiful eyes.

Another box was produced, this one Virgil opened himself and she smelled the soft leather within. Flat soled boots that extended to just below the knee. 

"What is this, Virgil?" She asked smiling.
"Well," he began, "I need to do some snooping around for some Neifion business and I want you to come with me, But you need to be -" He paused, "less identifiable."
A smirk crossed her lips and Virgil didn't know if he was in trouble or not.
"You bought me a disguise?" She asked with a derisive tone that told Virgil he may have assumed too much.
He paused. "Well, yes! Technically." He said, trying to recover. "I remembered all of your measurements from Baldur's Gate. "It is in the style you like, darker tones, I swear it's beautiful!
She couldn't keep her face straight any more and for the first time in weeks, she laughed. It was honest, mirthful and it healed her in unseen ways.

Virgil raised his eyebrows in complete surprise at this, before joining in at the spectacle of actually being duped by her ruse. It felt like a long time since he'd been on the receiving end of any kind of mind game. He basked in her laughter, feeling relief wash over him.

She laid the clothes out upon the bed taking note of its textures and lines. It was indeed beautiful.
"Turn your back, please Virgil." She said and it took a moment for him to realise why as she began to disrobe, Virgil's eyes shot downward and away respectfully as she trusted him to do.

The fabric slid over her slender athletic form, and it did indeed feel light and flexible. the leggings, tight but supple woven of a material she hadn't felt upon her skin before. She bound her chest with a length of material provided, supporting her female form. Black and silken cloth that she wound down her right arm and fastened it at the wrist. The tunic was next fastened together with similar silken ties, it was embroidered above the breast with the symbol of Tyr, she ran her hands over the symbol. It's familiarity of it enamouring her further to this these new garments. She felt the longer left sleeves lining as it slid along her arm, small pockets and a sheathe? small enough to hold a dart or small knife.
Oh yes, Virgil did indeed oversee the design of this.

Finally, the soft boots, slipped onto her delicate feet. She could feel the embossed patterns upon them, little swirling designs that wove in and out of one another.
They felt like a second skin to her feet, contouring to her soles and calves, allowing  full freedom of movement.

Lastly, a dark shawl placed over her head and rested across her shoulders, its cowl, longer than necessary, she appreciated that he knew her enough to know this was her desired style.

"It looks amazing, Obcaeco." Virgil said, pride and admiration in his voice. "How does it feel?"
She spun, a leg coming up in a whirling kick, before dropping down into a cat like stance, her hands a flurry of movement.
"This is lovely, Virgil," She said, a wry smirk at the side of her mouth. "Tonight then?"
"Tonight."

All In

Books, Lots of Books.

Virgil took a moment to reflect on the feat he had achieved. He currently stood in an ornate library, within a hidden castle, surrounded by an enemy force that he now controlled.

He couldn't help but grin at this.
With but a few augmented words he had turned ally against ally and overthrown a major enemy stronghold.

The powers that Neifion had given him felt godlike and for the first time he could remember, he felt like he was doing good. Something that his parents would be proud of.

Deception, gambling and exploitation were all things he used for personal gain. Never for a moment did he think his talents could be used in this way.

He had killed. Again. As the grin evaporated from his face, he recounted the fight against the commander of this castle, the cold calculating elf and his cultist guards. He had almost discounted it considering the whirl of events that followed.
He'd also sent his enemies into a trap, a trap in the form of dozens of lizard folk spears and teeth, to be torn apart in an ambush.
Virgil put the books down he was stacking onto a nearby pile and took out his own journal and lay it atop a chest high column of invaluable volumes of what appeared to contain information about the stars. "Henry's gonna have kittens when he sees these." He mused before focusing back to the blank page of the magical tome.

Castle Neyartar is under our control.
Coerced local lizard folk tribe to turn against current cultist regime and assist in coup.
Lizard folk still believe that we are cultists. We have taken no prisoners to ensure our cover remains in tact. Using this to our advantage.
Cultist presence in castle has been removed. Dispatched majority of Cultist forces through deception, ambush and confusion.

He lowered his pen, allowing the words to seep into his magical journal, before adding.

Was this the correct course of action?

This last question wasn't an easy one to write.
He understood Neifion was concerned with bringing balance, restoring the natural order of things but had he achieved this here?

He thought back further to the chain of events to date. He turned his memory to what these cultists were capable of in Greenest. People slaughtered on the streets. Families torn apart. He'd seen dozens die that night. He'd witnessed the power they would bring to bare against defenceless folk.

Grim faced and resolute, Virgil closed the journal and returned it to his satchel before a reply even arrived.

Yes, he was doing the right thing.
The balance will be restored.

Child of The Sea

Cove stuffed her belongings into her backpack. Some salted meat and dried fruit were bundled in along with a other items she deemed necessary.

Lastly, Cove paused and looked to the polished oak table and the sole occupant upon it. 
A small, dirty, threadbare doll that was missing an eye looked back at her lovingly. She had an arm that had been mended several times and meticulously plaited black woollen hair. Her dress was blue, like Cove's skin and had a beautiful, albeit dirty pattern that reminded her of the ocean around it's hem.

This she placed in her pack last, carefully so as not to upset her.
The ridiculousness of this wasn't lost on Cove as she tucked her in, chuckling lovingly. She was 17 years old now and knew playing with dolls should be beyond her.
But Tilda was her oldest family member.

 She donned her fur lined leather coat and swung her laden pack onto her shoulders before opening the door to the small but comfortable cabin that was her home.
As she climbed the few steps on to the deck of The Osprey she was met with the entirety of her family waiting for her, standing to attention. Thirty two sea tested men and women that made up The Osprey's crew. She noted some of them were glassy eyed. Others were doing their best to smile bravely.

Two figures above all else caught her attention after the initial surprise faded and was replaced with near overwhelming love that she fought to contain, lest she weep openly.

Her Fathers. The Captains of the Osprey.

"Look at our girl, ready to leave us on the next leg of her voyage." The man to her left said said stepping forward, arms out in front as if presenting her to the crew. Denon's face wore the experience of thousands of days of seafaring. It was hard to say how old he was for his skin was like leather yet his vibrant and jovial nature eluded to a much younger man. His coat was pressed and it's buttons polished he wore his thick, auburn hair in a tail that was clasped in an ornate silvery loop. His smile was wide and Cove could feel the pride he felt for her. It was almost tangible, like a blanket she could wrap around herself that would keep her warm and safe.

Denon stood next to her, before her other father, Renyar, moved forward. He too wore his pressed jacket with a tricorn hat that covered his bald head.
"Such eagerness, yet so ill equipped!" He quipped in a loud voice, before standing to her right and faced the crew, "just like our dear Cove to rush into the thick of it." Reyner added, his smile beaming.

Cove looked up at the two men with such adoration in her heart that she could feel the tears welling almost to bursting.  As the crew laughed an all knowing laugh the tension broke and she felt her blue skin flush. She sheepishly joined them, laughing at the misadventures and trouble she had made for them over the years. Her eyes turned down as she blushed before Denon's voice brought the crew's attention back to him.
"Before we let you leave, you will stand before us all and be held accountable for your actions." Cove gulped nervously at these words as it was the same words used to discipline the crew when a grievance was brought to her fathers. She wasn't in trouble again? Was she?

Raynor, as if on queue added, "Who among you who wish to bring your words to bare, do so now."

Cove held her breath, not sure now of what was about to happen. Her fathers could hide their emotions well behind their commanding presence. 

"I will speak," came a voice from the crew, the accent thick and distinctive that Cove knew the voice belonged to Wilten, the ships Carpenter. He was an ox of a man. A powerful frame that housed the experience a skilled artisan. In his hands he carried a long  object, wrapped in sail canvass. 

"Wilten, attest now to Cove's actions." Denon commanded. Wilton nodded, not meeting Cove's eyes. Quiet settled over the crew. Even the lapping of the sea seemed to stop.

"I've seen my share of storms over the years and I've lost people to them." This last part he said with a tone of deference. "So on that night when I went over in that storm, I thought that was it for me." He paused a moment, sniffed again before looking up. 

"Then you were there," His voice quivered slightly as he fought to keep his emotions in check. His head tilted and she could see the smile behind his bushy salt and pepper beard. "Our little water sprite." 

Cove couldn't resist any longer. She dropped her pack to the deck and ran forward sobbing. Wilton took a knee as she approached and she kept into him, Wilton's bear like arm wrapped around her tightly. 

Raynor and Denon looked on smiling as the Crew burst into cheers. A moment passed Wilton gently moved Cove back a step, still keeping to a knee. 

"Cove was able to ferry my lumbering arse back to The Osprey. I have no doubt I'd be fish food if not for her." He stated loudly as he began to unwrap the long object. He spoke to Cove now, excitement in his words.

"After the damage we took a few months back on the topsail yard, I got the idea to make you something from the timbers,"  Wilton produced a beautifully carved and polished staff from the canvass wrap. "Ive seen you training with the mops and I asked your dads if I could make you this." He turned it in his hands and Cove saw that Wilton had planed it on six sides, and carved images of ospreys into the centre. Beautiful flowing patterns ran the length of the staff, each end capped in polished steel. He presented it to her and she gingerly accepted it. She could feel the carvings under her fingers. The polished wood felt familiar. 

Yes, this was most certainly a part of The Osprey. 

"You saved me, no doubt about it." Wilton added, "I'll always be in your debt, Little Sprite."

He stood and turned quickly, joining the crew again before they both potentially broke down again. "Thank you Wilt!" She shouted to the bear of a man. She watched as the crew around him patted him on the back roughly and ruffle his hair.

Cove took a few steps back as Raynor's voice asked again who would speak. 

A woman this time stepped forward, a woman with pale skin and flowing markings across her face, her hair swirled loosely of its own accord. Zephyn was an Air Genasi, the Ospreys Navigator and Cove's mentor in Martial Arts. 

"Zephyn, attest now to Cove's actions." Stated Denon. 

 Zephyn stood forward and pointed to Cove making a series of gestures with her hands that Cove understood and turned to her fathers. "I will speak her words." She said as Zephyn nodded her approval to her captains. 

Zephyn began, her hands moving intricately. And Cove began to speak.

"Cove came to us when she was but a child. Removed from a life that would have been one of horror for her. This life was known to me and I'll be forever grateful to our captains for their compassion."

Zephyn stopped briefly before bowing curtly to both captains with a hand on her heart before she began again. Cove continued to interpret. 

"In her time here she has been a beacon of light that has helped guide this ship. Her character and heart has touched us all. She is a fine student, sailor and above all she has a unblemished soul."

She could feel the tears welling again at Zephyn's words. She knew that her crew loved her, as she loved them. She didn't realise how her leaving might effect them. Her hands continued to weave.

"Cove, I've taught you how to navigate by the stars," Zephyn took a bag from her shoulder and handed it to her nodding for Cove to open it. 

She pulled the flap back and within she saw the all too familiar tools needed to navigate by the stars. Sextant, paper, charcoal and a map of the sword coast. 

For you, to navigate your way forward, then eventually, back to us. Zephyn signed to Cove. These words, Cove kept for herself. Zephyn bowed low and Cove, in turn did the same. As she had been instructed. A proper farewell between mentor and pupil. 

Cove took her gifts and returned you stand between her two fathers. She put her pack on, Denon giving it a look across and evening the weight across her shoulders. 

Denon nodded to Raynor, who drew the Sabre from his hip and held it aloft. Denon joined him and the crew parted in the middle, drawing their swords and making an arch. Behind them waited the Gangplank that lead into the Neverwinter docks. 

She turned around to her fathers who both looked down to her, smiling. Each so very proud of their girl. 

"Protect yourself," Raynor said in a lowered voice that was only for her. "And protect those who need it."

Denon smiled a very charming smile. "Find what you seek, then come tell us all about it." His voice encouraging and boyish.

She stretched an arm around the waists of her fathers and squeezed tightly. 

"I love you, Dads," she whispered as she felt both their hands around her completing the embrace. "Thank you for my life!"

"Farewell, Daughter." They both said in unison. 

She looked up them both, rising onto her tip toes to kiss each on the cheek, at this the crew cheered. 

She turned and strode intently though the raised swords, gazing at her family as she passed them, she captured their faces in her mind and took her first step onto the gangplank. A chant of "Cove! Cove! Cove!" Sprang up behind her. Turning, Cove took one final look back, taking in the last member of her family. The Osprey herself. Her home for the last thirteen years. 

With possession of the knowledge of her family and the memory of their love swelling within her, she disappeared into the crowd of the busy streets of Neverwinter.

Questions and Reflections. - Hoard of The Dragon Queen. Chapter 2.

Just shut up and listen.
Don't write back or interrupt. I need to get this out of my system.

What in the nine hells have you gotten me into?
Greenest, these people, this 'Cult of The Dragon.'

You say that I have skills that are needed for the task. But if the task is to be surrounded by dragons of all shapes and sizes, then that's a shitty task.

I'm not stupid or narrow minded. Cards are all about knowing what's ahead of you. Prediction, awareness, opportunity. And, I know that this force that is pillaging these small towns wont stop here. This is just the precursor to something big. But I think you've got the wrong guy!

Haven't you?

Fuck! You know what? Three days ago I wouldn't have given a care about this blasted little backwater town or its bloody people, but you put me in the thick of it. Even this group of folks that I've been lugged in with were better equipped to deal with this mess.

A walking lizard that looks like the bloody creatures I've been shooting at for two days. Yet devoted to bringing these bastards to a peaceful end.
Another bloke from Baldur's. The "Locksmith" Interesting bloke though. We had a few moments that first night it all went to shite.
A blind(?) holy woman that can do the most incredible things!
A dwarf priest. Bristling with armour and the ability to heal the most ghastly wounds.

And Lirra. 
Now this woman was able to make me question more of my sense of self in one night than all the nights I've hustled cards and played dubious hands over the last decade.

In two days, I have seen horrors that I'd never thought I'd have to. I've been granted these "gifts" from you.
I've walked through an entire camp of things that wanted me dead. I've faced a dragon attack, and aided this town of Greenest with information pertinent to the discovery and perhaps prevention of this cults next move.
I've killed monsters. I have killed. 

Is my role in all of this over now? Or has it only just begun?

And who is Neifion? 
Are you Neifion? 
Am I?

I'm closing this book now for a bit. I need to rest and I can smell Stedd's baking down the bloody hall. 

The Bringer of Silence

The Vanguard stood in a loose formation as a blasting headwind slowed their progress. Before them loomed the swirling nimbus of cloud and lightening that they new to be the portal to the Plane of Air, Yan C Bin's prison. They all knew that he watched them now as five of his armoured elemental warriors made their final push to take back Windvane, the magical spear that was the key to his freedom.

Sheth saw an opportunity to close ranks and charged forward, landing blow after devastating blow against the magical guards. Reed took a few steps forward and hurled his magical hammer at the encased elementals. Morthos began an incantation of telekinesis raising both his crafted replica of Windvane and the true elemental weapon.

Suddenly screaming into action, the Elementals charged forward, taking hit after hit from their exposed flanks to exploit the small gap in the vanguard's line. Two coming face to face with Morthos quickly, and without his Goliath ally to shield him, they rapidly slammed their flails down into the wizard, his magical wards holding for only a fleeting second as blow after blow landed and laid the wizard low.

Peren, slid to the side of his fallen companion and scooped up Windvane in his free hand, before reluctantly touching Morthos' barely breathing form. He uttered an incantation under his breath, tracing a quick symbol in the air that hung shimmering before it broke into golden dust and covered the Tiefling's broken body. Bones mended and energy was renewed as the healing magics entered his body.

Morthos lifted his aching head and saw the Elementals rampaging close by, Peren looking down suddenly at Morthos, his face only showing the barest expression of worry.
"Do you trust me?" Morthos asked.
Peren quickly glanced back at the elemental swinging the massive flail above its armoured crown and nodded as the flail descended. A shimmering portal opened up beneath them both as they fell suddenly. The fall narrowly saving Peren from the impact of that dreaded weapon. The flail slammed into the stone floor of the cavern as the portal closed as quickly as it had opened.
Together they sped through dimensional doorway and landed with a sudden disorienting thud under the howling nexus itself!

Blasts of wind assaulted them both from all sides as Peren ducked into a crouch, Windvane poised as he looked at the swirling sphere of cloud and crackling lightning above him.
Still weakened, Morthos lost his balance and was knocked back suddenly, his feet finding no ground as he involuntarily stepped off the plateau and as he fell, he watched the armoured elementals hurtling towards Peren with desperate clawed gauntlets outstretched.
He landed flat as the wind was knocked from his lungs and he gagged and gasped for air.
He was alive, for now.

Peren looked back as Morthos was swept from the plateau he fought his instincts to help as he eyed the rapidly approaching elemental guards.
He looked down to the spear and thought to himself, 'Had you have been an arrow, Windvane, this would have all been over by now.'
Peren closed his eyes for a moment and whispered, "Umsheryoth, Guide my arm and grant me clarity."

Peren's eyes crackled with golden energy as he opened them and before him.
He saw his target, the centre of the nexus. He also saw the swirling wind and he saw its intentions, its patterns and motives. He looked to the portal and he lifted Windvane close to his ear, the point of the spear angled upward, He breathed a few breaths before holding it in as he waited for the wind to play its part.
'Not now, wait. There. NOW!'

The muscles in Peren's arm became taut like a spring as he launched Windvane up and it flew as if it were a silver bolt of lightening that yearned to return home.
Then a moment of complete silence sounded as sudden and jarring as any tolling bell before an inverse in the wind forced Peren to clutch a nearby rock as it threatened to sweep him into the collapsing portal.

The Elemental guardians shrieked as they were sucked back into their Plane of Air and in a span of breaths, silence tolled again. Peren stood nimbly, blinking rapidly as his eyes returned to their normal hue. He took a step to the edge of the plateau and peered over the precipice. His companions were all breathing, including Morthos who still lay face up upon the stone floor.

He hopped back down easily, nodding to his companions as they gathered around. Reed half smiling in return. Sheth, acknowledged Peren's  deed wtih a stern clap on the shoulder.

Without standing, Morthos began a new spell. A circle of energy surrounding them all."Gather round," He muttered in his usual contempt filled voice. All stepped in and a moment later, with a flash, the Vanguard was gone, leaving only the liberated silence in their wake.

To Where The Stones Gather.

Attondel watched as the two women slowly rose on the gusting wind of the tunnel leading upward to the fortified hold of Tyar Besil.  Clutched by the blade close to the hilt, Obsidian's black surface prickled against his palm, signalling him that something had caught his sentient blades attention.

"Master, another approaches through the stone at speed!" Obsidian's grating voice heard only in the Goliath's mind rang with a tone of urgency. 

More urgency than usual. 

Attondel turned a weary eye upwards, spinning the massive great sword with such ease that it may as well have been a willow switch. It's gleaming back blade, nearly seven feet in length coming to rest upon an armoured shoulder.

A moment later Attondel's true sight caught the almost imperceptible ripple in the stone ceiling. To him it was as obvious as tidal wave approaching the shore as his eyes seldom missed even the most minute detail, especially when it came to stone.

He widened his stance slowly and raised his free muscled arm close to the hilt, ready to grip and strike.

There were no tremors, no dust fell from this strange event. It behaved as if the rock was a pool of clear water reflecting a mountain range that had been disturbed by a solitary pebble.

A moment later a small, lithe form sprang out of the stone and landed in a kneel, one arm stretched out to the side, the other hand with the naked palm flat against the stone. The rippling ceiling near instantly returning to its solid state.

He noticed the black bracers first, around supple wrists, shining and flawless. Familiar, like his blade.

"Attondel, well met." Came a cool feminine voice, devoid of any emotion. Flat, calm, tranquil. His attention returned to the form before him. A moment of contemplation brought remembrance.
"Helenrae," boomed his baritone voice, a stark contrast to hers. "What are you doing here?"

She stood slowly, running one open hand down her chest to her hip, straightening the small crease in her flawless attire.

"My final test awaits. Lord Samular has dispatched me to aid you in your task." She replied in that cool, controlled voice.
A crimson hood of velvet, complete with a veil leaving only her mouth and angled cheeks and chin visible adorned her head. This extended into a fine robe of a durable looking fabric, adorned with beads and small polished stones.

She suddenly cocked her head and pointed away from their position, through the wall. As if lending an eat to an unseen whisper.

"Your companions are suddenly close to here."
"That would be Morthos," He stated nonchalantly as the howling wind that blew up the shaft to the ancient dwarven kingdom became still. Now filled with only an eerie silence.
"It appears my companions have completed their task and closed the air portal." Attondel deduced.
"We should rejoin your party and continue your task." Helenrae suggested as a hand went a black rod fastened to her waist. It extended by three feet almost instantly as it entered her grasp. She tapped it once against the floor, then once against the nearby wall, allowing a small echo to escape. Then she turned and walked further down the hall with a confidence of a person who had lived down here all her life.

The Gloliath's gaze went quickly back to Helenrae and her forearms that were adorned with those black, gleaming bracers.
He couldn't see a seam, or a crease, and he knew that they were most certainly made from same gleaming stone that Obsidian was wrought.

He dismissed his speculation and focused again upon his surroundings.No questions now. He knew there would be time for that once they had rejoined the vanguard.