# Bitterness Overcome: (Now A Completed Story!)



## Nonlethal Force (May 10, 2006)

_Nonlethal Force proudly presents ...​_
* Bitterness Overcome *​
*A Story of Rhema, Ischarus, Charis, and Semeion​*
[Sblock=Fictional World Information and Character Background]
*FICTIONAL WORLD INFORMATION:*
This tale takes place in my Homebrew World called Enigmatica.  Rough outlines of the maps and other information can be found by following the link.  Any additional information can be found by following the links in my sig.

*A SMIDGEN OF BACKGROUND:*
The significant characters involved in this story are as follows.  Each character has been given a unique coloration for speech.  I know this may be annoying to a few, so let me apologize beforehand.  I also know there are many out there who appreciate it because reading off of a screen is not the same as reading off of a typed page.  That is the reason I have opted to color the speeches.  I am not including a biography of the characters here because I hope that the readers will get to know the characters through the reading.  So, without further delay, here are the main characters in order of appearance:
Semeion - Plum
Ischarus - Light Blue
Rhema - Pale Green
Charis - Orange

Additionally, speech from minor characters will be in Lime.  Speech of the antagonist to the party will be in Red.  I hope the use of color makes your reading pleasurable!

A greater detail of the background of the character can now befound at Bitterness Overcome Personna
[/Sblock]

[Sblock=Table of Contents]
Chapter 01: A Grim Tale of Friendship ........................... post 1
Chapter 02: Into The Depths Between Here And There .... post 7
Chapter 03: Finding Grace .......................................... post 10
Chapter 04: Finding The Way ...................................... post 17
Chapter 05: A Little Revenge ...................................... post 21
Chapter 06: Heritage Reincarnated ............................... post 31
Chapter 07: Exigency ................................................ post 38
Chapter 08: The Path of the Unseeing .......................... post 45
Chapter 09: A Novel Route ......................................... post 51
Chapter 10: Metanoia ................................................ post 61
Chapter 11: Party Dubiety .......................................... post 67
Chapter 12: The Long Shot ........................................ post 74
Chapter 13: Under the Dragon's Claw............................ post 81
Chapter 14: Metallic Closure ....................................... post 90
Chapter 15: Epilogue ................................................. post 96
[/Sblock]

*And now, on to the story:*
** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

*Chapter One: A GRIM TALE OF FRIENDSHIP*

The view was absolutely perfect from atop the hillside.  This was one of the few treeless mounds that rose up above the forest canopy to the southeast of Reignsburg.  The two figures that stood and looked out over the forest knew that they were looking upon Earl Sniblett’s land.  The sunlight glinted off of the treetops and as the wind blew across the canopy of the forest it made the whole forest seem as if it was in a motion like the waves blowing across a great lake.

The elder of the two figures called out loudly to the one coming behind him.  “Isn’t it beautiful, Semeion?”  It was fairly clear from the sound of his voice that the one who spoke was hoping to catch an echo on the cloudless day.

Semeion, whose name quite literally means miracle, turned to face the one who spoke to him.  “It is indeed beautiful, master.  I am glad we decided to come up here to view it together.  Do you come here often?”

Semeion’s short black hair moved little in the prevailing gusts of winds.  His sky blue eyes squinted as he looked into the brightness of the rays of light that the sun sent down from above.  He smiled as he beheld the beauty of the land at his feet from atop the treeless hill.

The elder of the two figures replied, “I used to come here often when I desired time to myself, Semeion.  The gentle swaying of the treetops below has always had a calming effect on me.  The gentle motion of the green leaves has always made it easier for me to focus on my talents.  Talents that you must learn to focus on without having me to hound you, good sir.”

Semeion raised his hand to shade his eyes from the light as he turned to look at his master.  A small smirk touched the corners of his lips as he was called sir by his master.  Semeion’s master excelled at humbling himself in everyone’s company.  He did not fear to take the lower position if it meant an opportunity to lift someone else up in their own eyes.  “Master Sathwright,” Semeion began before he was cut off by his master.

“As I told you at the beginning of this journey, Semeion, you are to call me Richard now.  If you are truly going to graduate from my tutelage then you shall have no need to call me Master Sathwright any more.  You have earned enough respect by this point for you to call me Richard.  If it is to be the last command that I give you as your master, then it will be a fitting one to ensure the closing out that relational dynamic.”

The smirk on Semeion’s lips disappeared as quickly as his master’s earlier comment had put it there.  “Master Sathwright, I protest greatly at your belief that I am ready to leave your service!  I have no desire to leave your side, ever.  I am far from eclipsing the things that you can teach me about the powers that you wield.”

Master Sathwright chuckled and turned away from Semeion.  He planned to ascend the hill even further, distancing himself from his pupil.  The distance would be a symbolic act that would be a demonstration to Semeion that they would need to separate.  Of course it was to be expected that Semeion would close the gap once he noticed that his master moved away.

The master wizard waited until Semeion was enraptured by the moving of the leaves and he began his climb to the top of the hill.  Just as a particularly strong gust of wind rolled across the forest canopy Master Sathwright began his journey to higher ground.  The wind blew for nearly a minute and Semeion’s face grew in exaltation as he watched the magnificent power of the wind push the topmost branches from one side to another in a wave of movement.  It was the greatest display of an invisible force he had ever seen.  

The wind simply amazed Semeion.  In truth, it was the wind that was to blame for his interest in all matters arcane.  He longed to understand how something that was simply not there could move and push objects that clearly had a discernable weight.  If the weightless and the invisible wind could inflict its will upon the physical realm then he reasoned that there had to be something greater in the universe that could bring force out of nothing.  As he trained, Semeion longed to be able to accomplish even the simplest task that the wind could accomplish without effort.

As the wind began to die, Semeion turned to speak to his master only to find that Master Sathwright had already moved off a fair distance.  Semeion grabbed his gray cloak in one hand and pulled it several inches off of the ground so that he could run towards his master.  As the first footstep toward his master hit the ground the earth below him shook violently.  Semeion ignored this physical warning.  “Master, wait for me!” Semeion cried out.

Semeion assumed it was his voice that caused Master Sathwright to turn and look at his pupil.  In truth, Master Sathwright knew better than to turn to the voice of Semeion, especially today.  If Master Sathwright turned every time Semeion called for him Semeion would never develop the necessary skills to be out on his own.  

Yet, Master Sathwright did indeed turn this time to face his pupil.  He did not turn at the beckon of his pupil, however.  He turned because he feared the vibration that he felt in the land.  As his master turned, Semeion saw the smile upon his master’s face turn into a look of pure horror and panic.

“Run hard, Semeion!” cried Master Sathwright.  “Run like the wind!”

Semeion looked over his should as he ran, only to see a glimpse of what his master had already seen in full view.  An enormous green dragon had lurched out of the forest below once it realized that its prey was no longer looking in the direction from which it planned its assault.  The frill atop the dragon’s head rose up on end as its own adrenaline prepared the massive body for its first deadly strike.  As the tips of the frill elevated off of the dragon’s head the rest of the frill along the dragon’s neck and back also leapt up into motion.  Even the beast’s emerald scales glistened in the sunlight as the undulating of the dragon’s muscles shifted the angle of reflection from the sun almost constantly.

Master Sathwright instinctively charged the position of Semeion knowing that Semeion had neither the magical ability nor the force of will to withstand a single attack from the beast.  As he ran, he saw Semeion turn to look over his shoulder.  He also saw his pupil’s left toes catch on a simple rock.  He helpless looked on as Semeion’s body hurtled itself down onto the rocky hillside as the green dragon strode towards him.

The green dragon couldn’t help but to observe this simple tactical error on behalf of the young Semeion.  The dragon reared back on its massive back haunches and prepared for a simple pounce.  What had seemed like a decent adventure for the dragon had turned into one of the easiest catches of the year.

Master Sathwright searched his mind for the words that he knew were buried deep within.  A split second later his mind retrieved them and he instinctively yelled, “Semeion, get up and run!”  He paused for just enough time to watch Semeion scramble to his feet and take a single step.  

Master Sathwright could see in the dragon’s eyes that the beast was already calculating where it would have to pounce to trap the young boy under one of its massive claws.  Before it was too late, Master Sathwright yelled out a command that harnessed the magical essence around him, “Para Doithican Fael-tru!”  He knew the spell was a long shot but it was the best he could do unprepared.  Dragons were excellent hunters regardless of their ability to see their prey.  Inside he cursed himself for not calculating this possibility and preparing an appropriate spell for this situation.  He knew that any large forest could potentially hold a green dragon.

At his master’s words, Semeion’s eyesight took on a faded blue tint.  From past experience he knew that this indicated that he had been relegated to an invisible status.  He took one step more in the direction that he was heading and then he veered ninety degrees to his right.  This course adjustment would lead him into the forest in as straight a line as possible.

The dragon leapt skyward and with a single thrust of its wings it surged up into the air.  In mid-flight the beast saw its prey vanish into thin air but it had already begun its attack.  The dragon altered its tactics.  Rather than attempt to land in a manner that would trap the boy under a claw, the beast landed on the ground solidly in a posture obviously designed to crush anything caught underneath its entire massive body.  The dragon knew that this attack posture would kill his prey outright and deprive it of the pleasure of killing it in a much more personal means; but the dragon also knew that invisible prey were much more of a challenge to catch.  With the prospect of two humans to dine upon the dragon wanted to end the fight with as much possibility of catching both for dinner.

Master Sathwright could only pray that his spell had given Semeion enough time to evade the dragon.  He stopped his charge immediately, realizing that with the dragon’s pounce he was now within range of a serious strike from the dragon’s powerful jaws.  He had hoped to avoid getting this close to the razor sharp teeth of the dragon unless Semeion was in dire danger.  It was a tactical error he made in his own panic to save the life of his apprentice.

Through the blue haze of the invisibility spell Semeion saw the dragon lurch into the air and soar over his own head.  The beast had crashed quite solidly into the ground, but with the alteration in his retreat Semeion was able to easily duck under the creature’s tail and make a bee-line for the trees without the dragon knowing which direction to look.

The green dragon knew at once that his jump had been wrong.  It didn’t feel the squish of human flesh underneath that it expected.  The beast jerked its body upward and turned to face the approaching mage that had caused the young appetizer to vanish into thin air.  “It matters not, spell caster.  I shall simply start my meal with your aged flesh instead.”  With a simple blink of its eyes, the air around the dragon thickened like a dense fog making visibility downright impossible.  In fact, the fog was so thick and black that light could not penetrate into the area at all.  Master Sathwright was caught in the area of darkness without knowing precisely which way to run to escape the draconic foe.

As the dragon turned its attention to Master Sathwright, Semeion reached the forest and dove behind a fallen and rotting tree.  After resting for only a few seconds on his back he turned around and peered over the fallen tree back out into the treeless hilltop.  Semeion realized that where he had known his master to be now there was only a cloud of inky blackness.  His sky blue eyes darted right and left in an attempt to find any sign of his master.  His soul urged him to cry out, but he also knew that any noise would defeat the advantage that his master had given to him.  Dragons could hunt by sound as well as by sight.  Yelling in anger would only guarantee his own destruction.

Only seconds passed before an electric ray shot out of the cloud and nearly singed Semeion as it sailed over his head.  Instinctively he ducked his head back behind the tree, convinced that spell was a part of his master’s repertoire.  As Semeion picked his head up once more to view the inky cloud his fears were confirmed.  The green dragon sailed straight into the air, rising out of the black cloud.  The beast crushed his master’s body in its mouth, the sharp protruding teeth penetrating through Master Sathwright’s body from both above and below.  The mage’s limp body hung from the beast’s mouth.  Master Sathwright’s arms and legs flapped in the wind in response to the heavy beat of the dragon’s wings.  The sudden surges which resulted in several quick changes in altitude only caused the body to jerk even more.

Every fiber in Semeion’s body called upon him to cry out in pain and horror.  Every fiber desired to lash out in anger against the beast.  His hand trembled as he tried to recall any one of his arcane powers, but the agony inside was too much for his mind to wade through.  Unable to call upon even a single power, he slumped back against the ground.  He knew this self preservation mechanism was for his own good.  If he were to use any magic the casting of the spell would reveal his location to the dragon just as much as a shout would.

The green dragon circled overhead long enough for the inky cloud to dissipate.  Semeion was unsure if the effect deteriorated on its own as the magical energies dispersed or if the wind helped end its power prematurely.  Either way, Semeion watched as the large dragon made wide sweeping circles overhead.

The dragon banked sharply out of anger one last time, frustrated in its inability to find the younger morsel.  In anger the beast bit down firmly into the dead body of Master Sathwright.  The dragon’s teeth tore into the flesh and with a quick shake of its head the dragon severed the body in half.  The two severed pieces fell limply to the ground in roughly the same location as the dragon must have snatched Master Sathwright off of the earth to begin with.  

Semeion could only bury his head in his arms and shield his eyes from the gruesome sight.  His teeth bit into his lower lip until it bled; the taste of iron sickened his already weak stomach.  He could no longer watch the proceedings of the dragon though he knew his master was beyond any help now.  He heard the dragon land onto the hillside and pick up half of the dead body.  The dragon chewed loudly and slurped the body down into its throat.  Several hard swallows later and the dragon felt the urge to speak its arrogant proclamation.

“I will find you, child.  Your tender meat will taste better to me than this grizzled old man.  You cannot hide from Gharixilox.  This is my forest and I will find you.  Your master’s protective spell cannot prevent me from finding you eventually.”

As Semeion listened, he heard the dragon bend its neck down and the creature’s jaws grasped onto the remaining half of his master’s body.  Semeion burned the dragon’s name into his mind.  One day he would return and slay this foul beast.  With luck he would even eat the meat off of the bones of this creature.  He would take the hide and present it as an offering to his master’s widow and children.  He would even grind up one of the beast’s teeth and add it to wine in a pact of vengeance come full circle.  He vowed that before he died he would exact revenge upon Gharixilox.  He also vowed to be prepared.  He would not let his master die in vain and would not return until he was ready.  Semeion would take his time, plotting the day in which this forest would be free from this draconic presence.

As he struggled with the mental anguish coursing through his mind, Semeion quickly learned that the stress had frozen his muscles into a single position.  The shock of the encounter had left him temporarily paralyzed.  For hours Semeion lay behind the fallen tree.  Even after his master’s protective spell faded he could not bring himself to move.  Gharixilox had called out a few more taunts and then promptly left the area in search of another easy meal to fill its belly.  Even then he could not bring himself to move from the spot in which he lay.  His mind forced him into an uneasy, unmoving, and silent sleep. 

He awoke many hours later as the sun’s rays once more wrested the land free of the darkness that held it fast during the night.  As he woke then next morning he stretched, glad to finally be free of the mental paralysis.  He was stiff from being in the same position for so long, but he would manage.  Once the sun drew higher into the sky Semeion brought himself to the point where he could stand.  His muscles complained bitterly with every movement, with every step that Semeion took.  

With each fall of his foot he removed himself from the pain that for him would permanently rest on the face of that hillside.  Several hours later he returned to his home city.  He had made it back to Reignsburg alive in spite of the draconic promises that Gharixilox had made about finding him.  As he passed through the city gates he remembered just how prophetic his master’s words had been.

Semeion lightly repeated some of the last words that his master had spoken.  “If you are truly going to graduate from my tutelage then you shall have no need to call me Master Sathwright any more.  You have earned enough respect by this point for you to call me Richard.  If it is to be the last command that I give you as your master, then it will be a fitting one to ensure the closing out that relational dynamic.”

Semeion was now alone.  His master had gotten his wish.  Semeion had no choice but to step boldly into his own life and step out of the shadow of his beloved master.

“I will make you proud, Richard.”  A single tear dropped from his cheek onto the beaten ground beneath him as he entered the city of Reignsburg alone.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
*Chapter One: A GRIM TALE OF FRIENDSHIP*

The view was absolutely perfect from atop the hillside. This was one of the few treeless mounds that rose up above the forest canopy to the southeast of Reignsburg. The two figures that stood and looked out over the forest knew that they were looking upon Earl Sniblett’s land. The sunlight glinted off of the treetops and as the wind blew across the canopy of the forest it made the whole forest seem as if it was in a motion like the waves blowing across a great lake.

The elder of the two figures called out loudly to the one coming behind him. “Isn’t it beautiful, Semeion?” It was fairly clear from the sound of his voice that the one who spoke was hoping to catch an echo on the cloudless day.

Semeion, whose name quite literally means miracle, turned to face the one who spoke to him. “It is indeed beautiful, master. I am glad we decided to come up here to view it together. Do you come here often?”

Semeion’s short black hair moved little in the prevailing gusts of winds. His sky blue eyes squinted as he looked into the brightness of the rays of light that the sun sent down from above. He smiled as he beheld the beauty of the land at his feet from atop the treeless hill.

The elder of the two figures replied, “I used to come here often when I desired time to myself, Semeion. The gentle swaying of the treetops below has always had a calming effect on me. The gentle motion of the green leaves has always made it easier for me to focus on my talents. Talents that you must learn to focus on without having me to hound you, good sir.”

Semeion raised his hand to shade his eyes from the light as he turned to look at his master. A small smirk touched the corners of his lips as he was called sir by his master. Semeion’s master excelled at humbling himself in everyone’s company. He did not fear to take the lower position if it meant an opportunity to lift someone else up in their own eyes. “Master Sathwright,” Semeion began before he was cut off by his master.

“As I told you at the beginning of this journey, Semeion, you are to call me Richard now. If you are truly going to graduate from my tutelage then you shall have no need to call me Master Sathwright any more. You have earned enough respect by this point for you to call me Richard. If it is to be the last command that I give you as your master, then it will be a fitting one to ensure the closing out that relational dynamic.”

The smirk on Semeion’s lips disappeared as quickly and his master’s earlier comment had put it there. “Master Sathwright, I protest greatly at your belief that I am ready to leave your service! I have no desire to leave your side, ever. I am far from eclipsing the things that you can teach me about the powers that you wield.”

Master Sathwright chuckled and turned away from Semeion. He planned to ascend the hill even further, distancing himself from his pupil. The distance would be a symbolic act that would be a demonstration to Semeion that they would need to separate. Of course it was to be expected that Semeion would close the gap once he noticed that his master moved away.

The master wizard waited until Semeion was enraptured by the moving of the leaves and he began his climb to the top of the hill. Just as a particularly strong gust of wind rolled across the forest canopy Master Sathwright began his journey to higher ground. The wind blew for nearly a minute and Semeion’s face grew in exaltation as he watched the magnificent power of the wind push the topmost branches from one side to another in a wave of movement. It was the greatest display of an invisible force he had ever seen. 

The wind simply amazed Semeion. In truth, it was the wind that was to blame for his interest in all matters arcane. He longed to understand how something that was simply not there could move and push objects that clearly had a discernable weight. If the weightless and the invisible wind could inflict its will upon the physical realm then he reasoned that there had to be something greater in the universe that could bring force out of nothing. As he trained, Semeion longed to be able to accomplish even the simplest task that the wind could accomplish without effort.

As the wind began to die, Semeion turned to speak to his master only to find that Master Sathwright had already moved off a fair distance. Semeion grabbed his gray cloak in one hand and pulled it several inches off of the ground so that he could run towards his master. As the first footstep toward his master hit the ground the earth below him shook violently. Semeion ignored this physical warning. “Master, wait for me!” Semeion cried out.

Semeion assumed it was his voice that caused Master Sathwright to turn and look at his pupil. In truth, Master Sathwright knew better than to turn to the voice of Semeion, especially today. If Master Sathwright turned every time Semeion called for him Semeion would never develop the necessary skills to be out on his own. 

Yet, Master Sathwright did indeed turn this time to face his pupil. He did not turn at the beckon of his pupil, however. He turned because he feared the vibration that he felt in the land. As his master turned, Semeion saw the smile upon his master’s face turn into a look of pure horror and panic.

“Run hard, Semeion!” cried Master Sathwright. “Run like the wind!”

Semeion looked over his should as he ran, only to see a glimpse of what his master had already seen in full view. An enormous green dragon had lurched out of the forest below once it realized that its prey was no longer looking in the direction from which it planned its assault. The frill atop the dragon’s head rose up on end as its own adrenaline prepared the massive body for its first deadly strike. As the tips of the frill elevated off of the dragon’s head the rest of the frill along the dragon’s neck and back also leapt up into motion. Even the beast’s emerald scales glistened in the sunlight as the undulating of the dragon’s muscles shifted the angle of reflection from the sun almost constantly.

Master Sathwright instinctively charged the position of Semeion knowing that Semeion had neither the magical ability nor the force of will to withstand a single attack from the beast. As he ran, he saw Semeion turn to look over his shoulder. He also saw his pupil’s left toes catch on a simple rock. He helpless looked on as Semeion’s body hurtled itself down onto the rocky hillside as the green dragon strode towards him.

The green dragon couldn’t help but to observe this simple tactical error on behalf of the young Semeion. The dragon reared back on its massive back haunches and prepared for a simple pounce. What had seemed like a decent adventure for the dragon had turned into one of the easiest catches of the year.

Master Sathwright searched his mind for the words that he knew were buried deep within. A split second later his mind retrieved them and he instinctively yelled, “Semeion, get up and run!” He paused for just enough time to watch Semeion scramble to his feet and take a single step. 

Master Sathwright could see in the dragon’s eyes that the beast was already calculating where it would have to pounce to trap the young boy under one of its massive claws. Before it was too late, Master Sathwright yelled out a command that harnessed the magical essence around him, “Para Doithican Fael-tru!” He knew the spell was a long shot but it was the best he could do unprepared. Dragons were excellent hunters regardless of their ability to see their prey. Inside he cursed himself for not calculating this possibility and preparing an appropriate spell for this situation. He knew that any large forest could potentially hold a green dragon.

At his master’s words, Semeion’s eyesight took on a faded blue tint. From past experience he knew that this indicated that he had been relegated to an invisible status. He took one step more in the direction that he was heading and then he veered ninety degrees to his right. This course adjustment would lead him into the forest in as straight a line as possible.

The dragon leapt skyward and with a single thrust of its wings it surged up into the air. In mid-flight the beast saw its prey vanish into thin air but it had already begun its attack. The dragon altered its tactics. Rather than attempt to land in a manner that would trap the boy under a claw, the beast landed on the ground solidly in a posture obviously designed to crush anything caught underneath its entire massive body. The dragon knew that this attack posture would kill his prey outright and deprive it of the pleasure of killing it in a much more personal means; but the dragon also knew that invisible prey were much more of a challenge to catch. With the prospect of two humans to dine upon the dragon wanted to end the fight with as much possibility of catching both for dinner.

Master Sathwright could only pray that his spell had given Semeion enough time to evade the dragon. He stopped his charge immediately, realizing that with the dragon’s pounce he was now within range of a serious strike from the dragon’s powerful jaws. He had hoped to avoid getting this close to the razor sharp teeth of the dragon unless Semeion was in dire danger. It was a tactical error he made in his own panic to save the life of his apprentice.

Through the blue haze of the invisibility spell Semeion saw the dragon lurch into the air and soar over his own head. The beast had crashed quite solidly into the ground, but with the alteration in his retreat Semeion was able to easily duck under the creature’s tail and make a bee-line for the trees without the dragon knowing which direction to look.

The green dragon knew at once that his jump had been wrong. It didn’t feel the squish of human flesh underneath that it expected. The beast jerked its body upward and turned to face the approaching mage that had caused the young appetizer to vanish into thin air. “It matters not, spell caster. I shall simply start my meal with your aged flesh instead.” With a simple blink of its eyes, the air around the dragon thickened like a dense fog making visibility downright impossible. In fact, the fog was so thick and black that light could not penetrate into the area at all. Master Sathwright was caught in the area of darkness without knowing precisely which way to run to escape the draconic foe.

As the dragon turned its attention to Master Sathwright, Semeion reached the forest and dove behind a fallen and rotting tree. After resting for only a few seconds on his back he turned around and peered over the fallen tree back out into the treeless hilltop. Semeion realized that where he had known his master to be now there was only a cloud of inky blackness. His sky blue eyes darted right and left in an attempt to find any sign of his master. His soul urged him to cry out, but he also knew that any noise would defeat the advantage that his master had given to him. Dragons could hunt by sound as well as by sight. Yelling in anger would only guarantee his own destruction.

Only seconds passed before an electric ray shot out of the cloud and nearly singed Semeion as it sailed over his head. Instinctively he ducked his head back behind the tree, convinced that spell was a part of his master’s repertoire. As Semeion picked his head up once more to view the inky cloud his fears were confirmed. The green dragon sailed straight into the air, rising out of the black cloud. The beast crushed his master’s body in its mouth, the sharp protruding teeth penetrating through Master Sathwright’s body from both above and below. The mage’s limp body hung from the beast’s mouth. Master Sathwright’s arms and legs flapped in the wind in response to the heavy beat of the dragon’s wings. The sudden surges which resulted in several quick changes in altitude only caused the body to jerk even more.

Every fiber in Semeion’s body called upon him to cry out in pain and horror. Every fiber desired to lash out in anger against the beast. His hand trembled as he tried to recall any one of his arcane powers, but the agony inside was too much for his mind to wade through. Unable to call upon even a single power, he slumped back against the ground. He knew this self preservation mechanism was for his own good. If he were to use any magic the casting of the spell would reveal his location to the dragon just as much as a shout would.

The green dragon circled overhead long enough for the inky cloud to dissipate. Semeion was unsure if the effect deteriorated on its own as the magical energies dispersed or if the wind helped end its power prematurely. Either way, Semeion watched as the large dragon made wide sweeping circles overhead.

The dragon banked sharply out of anger one last time, frustrated in its inability to find the younger morsel. In anger the beast bit down firmly into the dead body of Master Sathwright. The dragon’s teeth tore into the flesh and with a quick shake of its head the dragon severed the body in half. The two severed pieces fell limply to the ground in roughly the same location as the dragon must have snatched Master Sathwright off of the earth to begin with. 

Semeion could only bury his head in his arms and shield his eyes from the gruesome sight. His teeth bit into his lower lip until it bled; the taste of iron sickened his already weak stomach. He could no longer watch the proceedings of the dragon though he knew his master was beyond any help now. He heard the dragon land onto the hillside and pick up half of the dead body. The dragon chewed loudly and slurped the body down into its throat. Several hard swallows later and the dragon felt the urge to speak its arrogant proclamation.

“I will find you, child. Your tender meat will taste better to me than this grizzled old man. You cannot hide from Gharixilox. This is my forest and I will find you. Your master’s protective spell cannot prevent me from finding you eventually.”

As Semeion listened, he heard the dragon bend its neck down and the creature’s jaws grasped onto the remaining half of his master’s body. Semeion burned the dragon’s name into his mind. One day he would return and slay this foul beast. With luck he would even eat the meat off of the bones of this creature. He would take the hide and present it as an offering to his master’s widow and children. He would even grind up one of the beast’s teeth and add it to wine in a pact of vengeance come full circle. He vowed that before he died he would exact revenge upon Gharixilox. He also vowed to be prepared. He would not let his master die in vain and would not return until he was ready. Semeion would take his time, plotting the day in which this forest would be free from this draconic presence.

As he struggled with the mental anguish coursing through his mind, Semeion quickly learned that the stress had frozen his muscles into a single position. The shock of the encounter had left him temporarily paralyzed. For hours Semeion lay behind the fallen tree. Even after his master’s protective spell faded he could not bring himself to move. Gharixilox had called out a few more taunts and then promptly left the area in search of another easy meal to fill its belly. Even then he could not bring himself to move from the spot in which he lay. His mind forced him into an uneasy, unmoving, and silent sleep. 

He awoke many hours later as the sun’s rays once more wrested the land free of the darkness that held it fast during the night. As he woke then next morning he stretched, glad to finally be free of the mental paralysis. He was stiff from being in the same position for so long, but he would manage. Once the sun drew higher into the sky Semeion brought himself to the point where he could stand. His muscles complained bitterly with every movement, with every step that Semeion took. 

With each fall of his foot he removed himself from the pain that for him would permanently rest on the face of that hillside. Several hours later he returned to his home city. He had made it back to Reignsburg alive in spite of the draconic promises that Gharixilox had made about finding him. As he passed through the city gates he remembered just how prophetic his master’s words had been.

Semeion lightly repeated some of the last words that his master had spoken. “If you are truly going to graduate from my tutelage then you shall have no need to call me Master Sathwright any more. You have earned enough respect by this point for you to call me Richard. If it is to be the last command that I give you as your master, then it will be a fitting one to ensure the closing out that relational dynamic.”

Semeion was now alone. His master had gotten his wish. Semeion had no choice but to step boldly into his own life and step out of the shadow of his beloved master.

“I will make you proud, Richard.” A single tear dropped from his cheek onto the beaten ground beneath him as he entered the city of Reignsburg alone.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (May 10, 2006)

Semeion was unsure where to turn once he arrived back in Reignsburg.  He knew his way back through the city well enough, but internally his emotions pulled him in vastly different directions.  He consciously knew that it would be required of his honor to speak to the family of his master.  They would need to know fairly quickly that Richard would not be returning to their home.  

He found the street through the city that would eventually lead him back to the home and his master’s workshop.  Yet, as the turned to follow the avenue a great sense of fear welled up inside of him.  His mind coursed with the various ways in which to tell the now widow of her husband’s death.  He visualized the pain and sorrow that he would bring upon the family.  Semeion shook his head from side to side to clear the thoughts, not realizing he stood in the middle of the street while doing so.

A cry came forth drawing Semeion back to reality.  “Watch out, lad!”  As the warning burrowed deep into Semeion’s mind in order to overcome the distant world to which his thoughts had taken him a carriage driver swerved to avoid trampling Semeion while he stood in the middle of the street.  Semeion turned to apologize to the carriage driver only to realize that another oncoming carriage had to swerve to miss the first carriage.  As this carriage swerved a passing rider on horseback jerked hard on his reigns to turn the horse away from the near carriage accident.  Semeion saw the horse turn so that he was directly into the path of the horse.  From the body language of the rider Semeion knew the rider did not see him standing in the street.

One driver cursed at the other driver.  “Watch where you are going, you tottery old fool!” 

The second driver spun around to reply to the insult of the first driver once he was sure the carriage would not topple over on account of the sudden swerve.  “Don’t curse me, you diaper-wearing child!  I’ve driven carriage for more years than you’ve been alive!”

People walking along the side of the street began to yell and gasp as Semeion was nearly crushed by the first carriage and was on the verge of being trampled by the unsuspecting horse.  The rider of the threatening horse lifted his hand in the form of a fist and began to shake it at the second driver.  It appeared as though the rider had no clue Semeion was standing in his hose's path.

Semeion shouted in self-defense with his left arm outstretched toward the horse.  “Garidzomanai!”  The fingers on his hand spread open wide as if he intended to catch the horse’s flared nostrils in the palm of his hand.  Instinctually, his right hand flashed inside the small pouch he carried on his belt and the fingers of his right hand found the piece of wool they searched for.  With a quick stroke his fingers rubbed the wool a single time as he spoke and a brilliant spark leapt of each of Semeion’s fingers.  The sparks merged together in the air and jumped the few feet of distance between his fingers and the horse’s head.  The sparks shot straight for the horse’s nose and landed with a bright, pressure free explosion.  

The brilliant light flashed before the horse’s eyes, startling the horse and causing it to rear back onto its hind legs.  Semeion crouched low to the ground out of a simple instinct to avoid being kicked in the face by the rearing horse.  The rider, who at this point was only controlling the horse with his knees and a single hand, was caught off guard as his eyes and shaking fist were on the swerving carriages.  

A startled cry from the rider rang out as the rearing of the horse caused him to lose his balance in the saddle.  The crash of metal armor hitting the cobblestone street rang up and down the street as the crashing sound bounced off of the various brick faced storefronts that lined the street.  As the swerving carriages passed by Semeion and the rider of the horse fell to the ground, the rest of the traffic on the street came to a halt until the commotion was resolved.  A few of the passer-bys on the sides of the street all stopped and looked on in curiosity.  

Quickly these passer-bys began to mumble and pointed fingers of blame.  A passing dwarf pointed an accusatory finger in Semeion’s direction and exclaimed, “The lad should not be in the street!”  Another onlooker corrected the dwarf by saying, “The boy was protecting himself from the horse!”  A third person yelled, “That first carriage was driving far too fast for such a busy street of commerce.  These carriage drivers now days have no respect for the pedestrians anyway!”  Before too long, groups of dissent and discussion broke out along the fringe of the accident scene.  Soon everyone was arguing with one another and the majority of them were yelling in Semeion’s direction.  

The once pupil now turned mage rose from his crouched position and saw the dazed horse standing a mere foot away from his location.  Semeion saw the rider completely for the first time and realized that he was dressed in chain armor.  The weight of the chain made it hard to rise up off of the ground without help.  The rider struggled to roll himself off of his back and up onto his knees from which position he would be able to stand easier.  Semeion stepped toward the rider in order to help but was too late.

A separate group of onlookers had also focused on the armored rider fall to the ground.  Once the commotion settled and the traffic was stopped they rush over to help lift the rider up from his back.  “We’ll help you up, sir, just stay still and give us a hand.  We’ll get you to your feet and up on your horse before you can do it yourself in that armor!  Do you have a name, sir?”

Unable to help and knowing that his inner turmoil was the cause of the scene, Semeion suddenly added embarrassment to the list of emotions coursing through his body.  Rather than stick around, he pulled his gray cloak tightly around him and turned to pass down the street in the opposite direction of his master’s home.  His feet shuffled quickly, especially when it was necessary to try and push his way through the crowd that had gathered.  Most of the crowd resisted his pushing and tried to grab hold of him to retain him so that the horseback rider could deal with him.  Fortunately, Semeion was not a large man and evaded most of their attempts to grab hold of him.

Semeion shouted at anyone who did manage to hold onto him for more than a second.  “Let me go, I must leave!  You’ve no idea what is wrong, just leave me alone!”

Eventually Semeion broke free of the crowd and charged down the street in a full panicked run.  He knew he hadn’t committed any illegal acts, but the embarrassment at the hands of the people was more than he could bear so close to the loss of his master.  This was now twice he was unable to avoid the circumstances that life brought his way and the world seemed to be conspiring against him.  

The crowd pointed and heckled him as he began to leave, shouting to the rider on the horse that he was fleeing the scene.  As the ones around Semeion heckled him, the people rushing to help the rider had managed to get him onto his feet.  His well trained horse had not left the rider’s side throughout the entire incident.

The rider stepped up into the stirrups and lifted himself into the saddle of his horse.  “Good girl, Elistra.  It’s alright.”  The rider spoke softly into the horse’s ears as he turned his body back and forth in order to use his height in the saddle to scan over the crowd.  He lifted the visor of his helm to reveal a smiling human face.  His face was covered in a well-trimmed moustache and beard.  He laughed as he saw Semeion’s gray cloak running down the street.  As the cloak flapped in the wind, the rider added, “No worries, friends.  Many thanks for the assistance.  I think our friend has experienced enough punishment through his own embarrassment.  Let him go.  You have my word that no damage was done.  If anyone should ask, tell them to seek out Ischarus and I'll reassure then that no damage was done.”

The mood of the crowd instantly turned from arguing to cheering at the humor and honor displayed by the fallen rider.  He was obviously naturally gifted at leading people and used his charismatic personality well to his advantage.  “Now, if you don’t mind.  Shall we go back to the sides of the streets where we all belong so that we can let the carriages and wagons pass along the streets as they are supposed to be able to do?  They have been quite patient so far, and seeing as how nobody is hurt I see no reason to keep traffic from moving along any further.”

The crowd slowly dispersed and traffic began to move along the street as normal.  From the saddle, the rider encouraged his horse Elistra to walk for a bit to ensure that she had managed to calm herself down from the excitement and the near trampling of Semeion.  After walking a bit, the rider settled the horse into a nice trot and the horse clopped its way down the rest of the street.

Semeion, on the other hand, continued to run.  He ran hard for three blocks straight down the street and then turned to the left.  As he ran, he could feel his emotions coming to a head.  Anger built up inside of him and he began to feel his body handling the internal struggle better.  The more he ran the more focused his anger became.  After turning left he ran for a couple of more block before settling into a solid pace.  Not knowing where to go he began running around a few of the city blocks.  He sputtered nearly unintelligible words while he ran in a zigzag pattern; his thoughts racing far faster than his lips could keep up.  After circling a route of several blocks nearly a dozen times Semeion stopped and bent over to rest his hands on his knees.  He sucked heavily upon the air around him; his heart pounded hard in his chest.  “I must go home, first,” Semeion stated out loud.  It was the first expression that he had spoken which made sense since he broke free of the crowd.  “I must find out what good it is to study the power of the wind if I am unable to change the fate of the events around me!”

He walked with a brisk pace over the several city blocks that led him back to his apartment.  He ascended the single flight of steps and entered into his small home.  The young mage quickly found the pack that he used to carry significant items to his training sessions at his master’s house.  Rummaging around in the inside he removed two yellow candles.

He lit one of the candles and placed it on a low table.  Semeion lowered himself so that he sat with his legs crossed before the candle and said, “These candles were your gift of peace to me, Master.  You know that the wind and the air fascinate me and both the wind and the air are necessary for the flickering of the flame.  Now that you have shown me an even greater expression of the power of the air and the wind around us, I can release these gifts into other service.  I shall always treasure candles as a remembrance of your life.”

Semeion paused in mediation for the entire length of time that the candle took to burn to the table.  Many hours passed by as Semeion forced his mind to meditate on his growing power, the life he and his master had together, and the path that stretched out before him.  Once the candle had burned all but the smallest remnant of the wax and thus extinguished itself from lack of fuel, Semeion rose and bowed to the table.  “I will take my revenge on that dragon.  But in order for me to do so I will need to move beyond this pain.  That process alone will teach me a great deal of life, and it would seem that you, my master, continue to guide me even in your death.  I shall not forget you.”

Semeion placed the remaining candle back into the pack, gathered up several sticks of incense, and slung the pack over his right shoulder.  He checked one final time to make sure the other candle was extinguished and left his apartment, descending the steps three at a time as if to say he was in a hurry.

Once Semeion arrived in the fresh open air he realized just how long his meditation must have lasted.  The sun was already well into its rest and the moon had taken its place as the guardian of the sky.  He looked up and greeted the moon.  “Now is your time, the time for astronomy and secret knowledge.  Guide my footsteps as I tread by your light.”

His journey was quick as he walked by a rote path.  He had eagerly walked these steps day in and day out for the past several years.  Semeion traversed this path so often that he practically knew each lose stone in the road and stepped lightly so as to avoid turning an ankle under the soft light of the moon.  Before too long he arrived at his destination.  

The house was quiet with only a single light on in the entire dwelling.  His master’s workshop was even more dark and still.  He paused for a moment as he collected his emotions before proceeding further.  He bowed his head in reverence at his master’s workshop and shed another single tear over the loss of Richard Sathwright, wielder of the arcane forces.  Semeion lightly bit into his lower lip and turned back to face the house.  Slowly he approached and lightly knocked on the door.  He heard movement inside.

His master’s wife quickly cracked the door open, wondering who would be disturbing her at this time of the night.  She smiled when she saw Semeion’s face.

“Semeion!  I had feared the worst when you did not return last night.  Where is Richard?”

Semeion could not find the words in his heart to speak plainly.  Several moments of silence passed between Semeion and the woman on the other side of the doorway.

“Semeion, what has happened?”  The woman’s voice grew cold as the silence continued.

“He … Master Sathwright … is dead.” Semeion replied.  The words mentally forced out of a mouth that resisted every syllable.  Semeion swallowed hard and closed his eyes in a long blink in order to hold back the tears.

The woman on the other side of the doorway did not hold back her tears at all.  Instantly her eyes watered and it seemed like streams had sprouted down her cheeks.  Her shirt developed wet circles where her tears would collect on her chin and fall down to the cloth below.  “Semeion, come in and tell me that you have told me a lie.”

Semeion shook his head slowly from side to side.  “I cannot do that, ma’am.  I will come in and offer a story and give you a gift of my mourning, but I cannot tell you that it is a lie.”

The woman cried out once in pain.  The tears continued to pour down from her face as she turned her back on the door and buried her face in her palms.  Semeion opened the door the rest of the way and let himself in.  He quietly closed the door behind him and touched the woman’s elbow.  “Channah, please sit.  It will be easier to bear if you sit.”

The woman responded to Semeion and sobbed as Semeion guided her to a nearby chair.  He sat beside her for nearly 20 minutes while Channah sobbed in anger and mourning.  Eventually her tears began to subside and her breathing slowed and became much shallower.

“Tell me how it happened, Semeion.  I do not want to know, but you must tell me.”

Semeion nodded in agreement.  “He died trying to bring me to an understanding of my own freedom, Channah.  He led me to his place of meditation to show me wind blowing along the trees.”

Channah smiled as the tears continued to run down her face.  “I know the place well.  He went there often.  Sometimes he used to take me with him before the children were born.  It is a beautiful place.”

Semeion smiled and nodded.  “A considerable dragon of the forest stalked us and came upon me suddenly.  Your husband, my master, rushed forward to turn me invisible so that I could flee from the dragon’s presence.  Unfortunately as he drew too close to the dragon he was enveloped in the evil darkness.  He struggled with what magic he had to offer, but the dragon bested him.  I am sorry for not coming to you earlier, but I myself was frozen in pain and horror until this morning.  It has been a long journey for me to even return back to Reignsburg and especially to bring myself to your door.”

Channah smiled.  “You were his star, Semeion.  He would have easily died for any of his family and for you.  You had become like a son for him.  It pained him to think about having you leave.”

“I would have gladly stayed, ma’am.  But I now know he was right.  It was time for me to go onto my own.  If only I could have admitted that earlier.”

“No, Semeion.” Channah replied.  “Richard would have taken you there anyway.  It was how he planed his farewell to you – so you could see the demonstration of the wind across the tops of the trees.”

Semeion looked to the floor and remembered the pack he had brought.  He opened up the pack and lifted several sticks of incense along with the yellow candle.  “Your husband gave me these sticks of incense and asked me to give them to you to burn should he ever die during one of our journeys.  I promised him that I would fulfill that request should it come to pass.  The candle was a gift from him to me to remind me that the air and the wind are always around even though we cannot see them.  I have already burned one in his honor as I mourned for him.  I give the other so that you might do the same and make his honor and my mourning complete.”

Channah accepted the incense and the candles and laid them solemnly on her lap.  She lifted her eyes to Semeion.  “I thank you, and now I must really ask a hard favor of you.”

“Anything, Channah.  You have treated me like your own son,” Semeion replied, looking earnestly into the eyes of his master's wife.

“I ask you to leave me alone for the night.  I must mourn in my own way and bring myself to tell the children in the morning.  But I ask that you return as often as you can so that together we may keep his memory alive.”

Semeion opened his mouth to speak but Channah stopped him with a simple gesture with her hand.  “We will burn the incense of mourning together when you return.”

Semeion paused this time, making sure that Channah was done speaking.  “I will honor you with that, Channah.  I will return tomorrow once the sun has given way to the moon once more.  Then we will mourn together.”

Channah rose and extended a hand outward to embrace Semeion.  She breathed in deeply, choking back the tears for just a little more.  The two embraced in a long hug and then Channah stepped to her toes and kissed Semeion on the forehead.  “Go with Richard’s peace, Semeion.  Honor him with your life.”

Semeion wanted to reply, but he simply nodded and let the honor of having the last word of blessing fall to Channah.  He smiled, though his lips betrayed that they were filled with painful emotion.  Channah embraced him once more in a hug as Semeion headed for the door.  The woman waited in silence for Semeion to step outside and off the porch.  As Semeion turned toward the house once more from the road, Channah smiled and closed the door.  Just before the door closed, Semeion could see that she had begun to cry again.  She would mourn for her husband for a long time.

Semeion breathed deeply.  He needed a drink.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Semeion was unsure where to turn once he arrived back in Reignsburg. He knew his way back through the city well enough, but internally his emotions pulled him in vastly different directions. He consciously knew that it would be required of his honor to speak to the family of his master. They would need to know fairly quickly that Richard would not be returning to their home. 

He found the street through the city that would eventually lead him back to the home and his master’s workshop. Yet, as the turned to follow the avenue a great sense of fear welled up inside of him. His mind coursed with the various ways in which to tell the now widow of her husband’s death. He visualized the pain and sorrow that he would bring upon the family. Semeion shook his head from side to side to clear the thoughts, not realizing he stood in the middle of the street while doing so.

A cry came forth drawing Semeion back to reality. “Watch out, lad!” As the warning burrowed deep into Semeion’s mind in order to overcome the distant world to which his thoughts had taken him a carriage driver swerved to avoid trampling Semeion while he stood in the middle of the street. Semeion turned to apologize to the carriage driver only to realize that another oncoming carriage had to swerve to miss the first carriage. As this carriage swerved a passing rider on horseback jerked hard on his reigns to turn the horse away from the near carriage accident. Semeion saw the horse turn so that he was directly into the path of the horse. From the body language of the rider Semeion knew the rider did not see him standing in the street.

One driver cursed at the other driver. “Watch where you are going, you tottery old fool!” 

The second driver spun around to reply to the insult of the first driver once he was sure the carriage would not topple over on account of the sudden swerve. “Don’t curse me, you diaper-wearing child! I’ve driven carriage for more years than you’ve been alive!”

People walking along the side of the street began to yell and gasp as Semeion was nearly crushed by the first carriage and was on the verge of being trampled by the unsuspecting horse. The rider of the threatening horse lifted his hand in the form of a fist and began to shake it at the second driver. It appeared as though the rider had no clue Semeion was standing in his hose's path.

Semeion shouted in self-defense with his left arm outstretched toward the horse. “Garidzomanai!” The fingers on his hand spread open wide as if he intended to catch the horse’s flared nostrils in the palm of his hand. Instinctually, his right hand flashed inside the small pouch he carried on his belt and the fingers of his right hand found the piece of wool they searched for. With a quick stroke his fingers rubbed the wool a single time as he spoke and a brilliant spark leapt of each of Semeion’s fingers. The sparks merged together in the air and jumped the few feet of distance between his fingers and the horse’s head. The sparks shot straight for the horse’s nose and landed with a bright, pressure free explosion. 

The brilliant light flashed before the horse’s eyes, startling the horse and causing it to rear back onto its hind legs. Semeion crouched low to the ground out of a simple instinct to avoid being kicked in the face by the rearing horse. The rider, who at this point was only controlling the horse with his knees and a single hand, was caught off guard as his eyes and shaking fist were on the swerving carriages. 

A startled cry from the rider rang out as the rearing of the horse caused him to lose his balance in the saddle. The crash of metal armor hitting the cobblestone street rang up and down the street as the crashing sound bounced off of the various brick faced storefronts that lined the street. As the swerving carriages passed by Semeion and the rider of the horse fell to the ground, the rest of the traffic on the street came to a halt until the commotion was resolved. A few of the passer-bys on the sides of the street all stopped and looked on in curiosity. 

Quickly these passer-bys began to mumble and pointed fingers of blame. A passing dwarf pointed an accusatory finger in Semeion’s direction and exclaimed, “The lad should not be in the street!” Another onlooker corrected the dwarf by saying, “The boy was protecting himself from the horse!” A third person yelled, “That first carriage was driving far too fast for such a busy street of commerce. These carriage drivers now days have no respect for the pedestrians anyway!” Before too long, groups of dissent and discussion broke out along the fringe of the accident scene. Soon everyone was arguing with one another and the majority of them were yelling in Semeion’s direction. 

The once pupil now turned mage rose from his crouched position and saw the dazed horse standing a mere foot away from his location. Semeion saw the rider completely for the first time and realized that he was dressed in chain armor. The weight of the chain made it hard to rise up off of the ground without help. The rider struggled to roll himself off of his back and up onto his knees from which position he would be able to stand easier. Semeion stepped toward the rider in order to help but was too late.

A separate group of onlookers had also focused on the armored rider fall to the ground. Once the commotion settled and the traffic was stopped they rush over to help lift the rider up from his back. “We’ll help you up, sir, just stay still and give us a hand. We’ll get you to your feet and up on your horse before you can do it yourself in that armor! Do you have a name, sir?”

Unable to help and knowing that his inner turmoil was the cause of the scene, Semeion suddenly added embarrassment to the list of emotions coursing through his body. Rather than stick around, he pulled his gray cloak tightly around him and turned to pass down the street in the opposite direction of his master’s home. His feet shuffled quickly, especially when it was necessary to try and push his way through the crowd that had gathered. Most of the crowd resisted his pushing and tried to grab hold of him to retain him so that the horseback rider could deal with him. Fortunately, Semeion was not a large man and evaded most of their attempts to grab hold of him.

Semeion shouted at anyone who did manage to hold onto him for more than a second. “Let me go, I must leave! You’ve no idea what is wrong, just leave me alone!”

Eventually Semeion broke free of the crowd and charged down the street in a full panicked run. He knew he hadn’t committed any illegal acts, but the embarrassment at the hands of the people was more than he could bear so close to the loss of his master. This was now twice he was unable to avoid the circumstances that life brought his way and the world seemed to be conspiring against him. 

The crowd pointed and heckled him as he began to leave, shouting to the rider on the horse that he was fleeing the scene. As the ones around Semeion heckled him, the people rushing to help the rider had managed to get him onto his feet. His well trained horse had not left the rider’s side throughout the entire incident.

The rider stepped up into the stirrups and lifted himself into the saddle of his horse. “Good girl, Elistra. It’s alright.” The rider spoke softly into the horse’s ears as he turned his body back and forth in order to use his height in the saddle to scan over the crowd. He lifted the visor of his helm to reveal a smiling human face. His face was covered in a well-trimmed moustache and beard. He laughed as he saw Semeion’s gray cloak running down the street. As the cloak flapped in the wind, the rider added, “No worries, friends. Many thanks for the assistance. I think our friend has experienced enough punishment through his own embarrassment. Let him go. You have my word that no damage was done. If anyone should ask, tell them to seek out Ischarus and I'll reassure then that no damage was done.”

The mood of the crowd instantly turned from arguing to cheering at the humor and honor displayed by the fallen rider. He was obviously naturally gifted at leading people and used his charismatic personality well to his advantage. “Now, if you don’t mind. Shall we go back to the sides of the streets where we all belong so that we can let the carriages and wagons pass along the streets as they are supposed to be able to do? They have been quite patient so far, and seeing as how nobody is hurt I see no reason to keep traffic from moving along any further.”

The crowd slowly dispersed and traffic began to move along the street as normal. From the saddle, the rider encouraged his horse Elistra to walk for a bit to ensure that she had managed to calm herself down from the excitement and the near trampling of Semeion. After walking a bit, the rider settled the horse into a nice trot and the horse clopped its way down the rest of the street.

Semeion, on the other hand, continued to run. He ran hard for three blocks straight down the street and then turned to the left. As he ran, he could feel his emotions coming to a head. Anger built up inside of him and he began to feel his body handling the internal struggle better. The more he ran the more focused his anger became. After turning left he ran for a couple of more block before settling into a solid pace. Not knowing where to go he began running around a few of the city blocks. He sputtered nearly unintelligible words while he ran in a zigzag pattern; his thoughts racing far faster than his lips could keep up. After circling a route of several blocks nearly a dozen times Semeion stopped and bent over to rest his hands on his knees. He sucked heavily upon the air around him; his heart pounded hard in his chest. “I must go home, first,” Semeion stated out loud. It was the first expression that he had spoken which made sense since he broke free of the crowd. “I must find out what good it is to study the power of the wind if I am unable to change the fate of the events around me!”

He walked with a brisk pace over the several city blocks that led him back to his apartment. He ascended the single flight of steps and entered into his small home. The young mage quickly found the pack that he used to carry significant items to his training sessions at his master’s house. Rummaging around in the inside he removed two yellow candles.

He lit one of the candles and placed it on a low table. Semeion lowered himself so that he sat with his legs crossed before the candle and said, “These candles were your gift of peace to me, Master. You know that the wind and the air fascinate me and both the wind and the air are necessary for the flickering of the flame. Now that you have shown me an even greater expression of the power of the air and the wind around us, I can release these gifts into other service. I shall always treasure candles as a remembrance of your life.”

Semeion paused in mediation for the entire length of time that the candle took to burn to the table. Many hours passed by as Semeion forced his mind to meditate on his growing power, the life he and his master had together, and the path that stretched out before him. Once the candle had burned all but the smallest remnant of the wax and thus extinguished itself from lack of fuel, Semeion rose and bowed to the table. “I will take my revenge on that dragon. But in order for me to do so I will need to move beyond this pain. That process alone will teach me a great deal of life, and it would seem that you, my master, continue to guide me even in your death. I shall not forget you.”

Semeion placed the remaining candle back into the pack, gathered up several sticks of incense, and slung the pack over his right shoulder. He checked one final time to make sure the other candle was extinguished and left his apartment, descending the steps three at a time as if to say he was in a hurry.

Once Semeion arrived in the fresh open air he realized just how long his meditation must have lasted. The sun was already well into its rest and the moon had taken its place as the guardian of the sky. He looked up and greeted the moon. “Now is your time, the time for astronomy and secret knowledge. Guide my footsteps as I tread by your light.”

His journey was quick as he walked by a rote path. He had eagerly walked these steps day in and day out for the past several years. Semeion traversed this path so often that he practically knew each lose stone in the road and stepped lightly so as to avoid turning an ankle under the soft light of the moon. Before too long he arrived at his destination. 

The house was quiet with only a single light on in the entire dwelling. His master’s workshop was even more dark and still. He paused for a moment as he collected his emotions before proceeding further. He bowed his head in reverence at his master’s workshop and shed another single tear over the loss of Richard Sathwright, wielder of the arcane forces. Semeion lightly bit into his lower lip and turned back to face the house. Slowly he approached and lightly knocked on the door. He heard movement inside.

His master’s wife quickly cracked the door open, wondering who would be disturbing her at this time of the night. She smiled when she saw Semeion’s face.

“Semeion! I had feared the worst when you did not return last night. Where is Richard?”

Semeion could not find the words in his heart to speak plainly. Several moments of silence passed between Semeion and the woman on the other side of the doorway.

“Semeion, what has happened?” The woman’s voice grew cold as the silence continued.

“He … Master Sathwright … is dead.” Semeion replied. The words mentally forced out of a mouth that resisted every syllable. Semeion swallowed hard and closed his eyes in a long blink in order to hold back the tears.

The woman on the other side of the doorway did not hold back her tears at all. Instantly her eyes watered and it seemed like streams had sprouted down her cheeks. Her shirt developed wet circles where her tears would collect on her chin and fall down to the cloth below. “Semeion, come in and tell me that you have told me a lie.”

Semeion shook his head slowly from side to side. “I cannot do that, ma’am. I will come in and offer a story and give you a gift of my mourning, but I cannot tell you that it is a lie.”

The woman cried out once in pain. The tears continued to pour down from her face as she turned her back on the door and buried her face in her palms. Semeion opened the door the rest of the way and let himself in. He quietly closed the door behind him and touched the woman’s elbow. “Channah, please sit. It will be easier to bear if you sit.”

The woman responded to Semeion and sobbed as Semeion guided her to a nearby chair. He sat beside her for nearly 20 minutes while Channah sobbed in anger and mourning. Eventually her tears began to subside and her breathing slowed and became much shallower.

“Tell me how it happened, Semeion. I do not want to know, but you must tell me.”

Semeion nodded in agreement. “He died trying to bring me to an understanding of my own freedom, Channah. He led me to his place of meditation to show me wind blowing along the trees.”

Channah smiled as the tears continued to run down her face. “I know the place well. He went there often. Sometimes he used to take me with him before the children were born. It is a beautiful place.”

Semeion smiled and nodded. “A considerable dragon of the forest stalked us and came upon me suddenly. Your husband, my master, rushed forward to turn me invisible so that I could flee from the dragon’s presence. Unfortunately as he drew too close to the dragon he was enveloped in the evil darkness. He struggled with what magic he had to offer, but the dragon bested him. I am sorry for not coming to you earlier, but I myself was frozen in pain and horror until this morning. It has been a long journey for me to even return back to Reignsburg and especially to bring myself to your door.”

Channah smiled. “You were his star, Semeion. He would have easily died for any of his family and for you. You had become like a son for him. It pained him to think about having you leave.”

“I would have gladly stayed, ma’am. But I now know he was right. It was time for me to go onto my own. If only I could have admitted that earlier.”

“No, Semeion.” Channah replied. “Richard would have taken you there anyway. It was how he planed his farewell to you – so you could see the demonstration of the wind across the tops of the trees.”

Semeion looked to the floor and remembered the pack he had brought. He opened up the pack and lifted several sticks of incense along with the yellow candle. “Your husband gave me these sticks of incense and asked me to give them to you to burn should he ever die during one of our journeys. I promised him that I would fulfill that request should it come to pass. The candle was a gift from him to me to remind me that the air and the wind are always around even though we cannot see them. I have already burned one in his honor as I mourned for him. I give the other so that you might do the same and make his honor and my mourning complete.”

Channah accepted the incense and the candles and laid them solemnly on her lap. She lifted her eyes to Semeion. “I thank you, and now I must really ask a hard favor of you.”

“Anything, Channah. You have treated me like your own son,” Semeion replied, looking earnestly into the eyes of his master's wife.

“I ask you to leave me alone for the night. I must mourn in my own way and bring myself to tell the children in the morning. But I ask that you return as often as you can so that together we may keep his memory alive.”

Semeion opened his mouth to speak but Channah stopped him with a simple gesture with her hand. “We will burn the incense of mourning together when you return.”

Semeion paused this time, making sure that Channah was done speaking. “I will honor you with that, Channah. I will return tomorrow once the sun has given way to the moon once more. Then we will mourn together.”

Channah rose and extended a hand outward to embrace Semeion. She breathed in deeply, choking back the tears for just a little more. The two embraced in a long hug and then Channah stepped to her toes and kissed Semeion on the forehead. “Go with Richard’s peace, Semeion. Honor him with your life.”

Semeion wanted to reply, but he simply nodded and let the honor of having the last word of blessing fall to Channah. He smiled, though his lips betrayed that they were filled with painful emotion. Channah embraced him once more in a hug as Semeion headed for the door. The woman waited in silence for Semeion to step outside and off the porch. As Semeion turned toward the house once more from the road, Channah smiled and closed the door. Just before the door closed, Semeion could see that she had begun to cry again. She would mourn for her husband for a long time.

Semeion breathed deeply. He needed a drink.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (May 10, 2006)

A few blocks away from the home of the newly widowed Channah Sathwright, two riders on horseback slowly pulled their horses to a halt outside a local popular tavern.  Although the riders were only passing through town, they had traveled their route often enough to know the hitching posts in front of the _Cachinnating Roadhouse_ well.  It was a stop they frequented every time that they passed through Reignsburg.

The riders were each dressed in cloaks with the hoods pulled up and over their faces.  The effect was to completely shadow their faces from anyone who might casually look in their general direction while still giving them the ability to see straight forward.  The lead rider turned his hooded head in the direction of the one who followed and with the index finger of his left hand he pulled the edge of his hood back just enough to be able to see the other rider.  “Rhema, I think we should stop for the night.  I could use a drink of ale – or at least a glass of water with a twist of lime if you won’t let me drink tonight.”  He chuckled a bit, demonstrating to his partner that he was in good spirits.

“Ischarus, you know that I am not the one who keeps you from drinking your precious ale.  As for stopping, I do believe I smell Archis’ famous potatoes. I love his potatoes, Ischarus.  I love the way he cooks them long enough over the grill that they assume the flavor of not only the onions but just about everything else that he has cooked on the grill this evening.  I’d appreciate it if you’ll do me the favor of stopping.”

The female voice of the second rider soothingly flowed out of her mouth.  The sweet words hinted at flirtation with Ischarus, but stopped just short of demonstrating direct interest.  At the beckon of her words, Ischarus pulled back on the reigns for his own horse and with a simple lean of the reigns on the right side of the large horse’s neck he managed to swing the horse into a standing counterclockwise turn so that his horse was facing the _Cachinnating Roadhouse._  He slipped out of the saddle with a single fluid motion and then took the reigns from Rhema for her own horse.  Once he had both horses under control he joined both sets of reigns in his right hand.

As he moved, Rhema commented from atop her horse, “Oh Ischarus, you simply spoil me so.”

Ischarus’ smile was well hidden from Rhema by the edge of the hood of his cloak.  His words betrayed his pleasure derived from Rhema’s earlier comment.  “Nonsense, m’lady.  You honor me with your presence.  I’ll not have you descend a moving horse and risk twisting one of those fair ankles of yours.”  Although their hoods were still both concealing their faces, from her superior position atop her horse Rhema could still look down upon the gray hood of Ischarus and imagine the man beneath the protective cloak.  She smiled as the thought satisfied her and she graciously allowed her riding partner to do his job.

Ischarus spoke softly into the horses’ ears.  “Elistra, Shauvry come.”  The horses followed Ischarus up to the hitching posts without needing to rely on a strong use of the reigns.  Ischarus quickly tied the horses to the hitching post and ducked under the neck of Shauvry.  The slight clink of metal armor could be heard as he dipped under the horse.  Once he had arrived onto the other side he moved back to Rhema and held out a guiding arm that was covered by the sleeve of his cloak.  “M’lady, as it suits your schedule I’m here to assist you.”

Rhema swung her leg over the side of the horse with nearly the same grace as Ischarus had done upon Elistra.  Her movements illustrated that she didn’t need the help of Ischarus.  Instead, she seemed to allow him to serve her because it gave him satisfaction.  As she slipped out of the saddle, Ischarus slid his hands up the side of her body until the caught her under the arms.  He lightly lowered her thin body to the ground, enjoying the curvature of her thin frame.

Rhema reached up with a hand and caressed the neck of Shauvry.  “It’ll only be a short time until the stable boy comes to collect you, dear.  Be a good girl and keep Elistra safe.”  She slipped her hand back inside the sleeve of her cloak and turned towards the door of the tavern.

Ischarus stepped ahead and opened the door before Rhema.  Light poured out of the entrance of the inn and spilled into the dark night outside the inn.  Rhema’s navy blue robe glistened as the light struck it.  She stepped inside, leading the way ahead of Ischarus.  As Ischarus crossed the threshold of the door and shut the night air out, Rhema pulled back the hood of her cloak and allowed it to naturally fold down her back.  She lifted both hands up behind her neck and with a single motion pulled her long dark brown hair out from underneath the collar of her cloak.  Her hair settled down along her back with a few strands curling around her ears and falling to the front of her shoulders.  She smiled broadly with a near perfectly symmetrical smile as she scanned the room and spotted Archis.  He was not only the cook, but also the barkeeper and owner of the _Cachinnating Roadhouse_ .  Naturally, Archis returned the smile and nearly didn’t resist giving her body a passing glance while he went about his work.

As the shorter Rhema pushed the hood of her cloak back, Ischarus followed with the same gesture.  He lifted his own hood up and like Rhema he too pulled his black hair out from under his cloak.  Rather than looking for Archis, Ischarus played the role of guardian and spotted an empty table surrounded by at least one empty table on each side.  He leaned forward into Rhema and pointed with his gauntleted right index finger.  “There, m’lady.  Your seat awaits and I do believe I can smell the ale and the potatoes being prepared for us as we speak.  The sooner we take our seats the quicker Archis can direct the waitress to bring us your heart’s desire.”

The two sat down at the table and Archis indeed called one of his serving staff to his side.  He spent only a moment preparing a few drinks while he sent the staff into the kitchen to fetch some food.  When the servant that Archis had beckoned returned from the kitchen, Archis nodded to the table where Ischarus and Rhema sat and pointed to the drinks he had prepared.  Ischarus smiled as he saw Archis pointing towards his table.

Ischarus’ smile turned into a chuckle as the food and drinks approached the table.  Rhema looked up and noticed his grin.  “Ischarus, what do you find so funny?  You’ve not yet had even a single ale to drink!”

Ischarus only smiled more broadly at Rhema’s accusation.  As luck would have it for Rhema, it turned out to be a waiter and not a waitress who brought the potatoes to the table.  Approaching the table and noting that there were only two patrons waiting to be served, the waiter placed a single lime water before each of the patrons and placed the steaming plate of potatoes in front of Ischarus.  The man chuckled at the simple mistake caused by the waiter’s assumption.

Ischarus made a bit of small talk as the waiter sat down the drinks and food.  “I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before, sir, are you new?” 

The waiter replied in a friendly tone, “Aye, sir.  I started the job a mere two weeks ago.  Is it that obvious?”

Ischarus chuckled again at the waiter.  “No, not really.  Only you’ve put the potatoes in front of the wrong patron.  A simple mistake, though.  Don’t fret about it at all.”

The waiter smiled at the fact that his premature assumption had been caught in addition to being incorrect.  He turned to Rhema and bowed slightly.  “Forgive me, m’lady.  Archis merely told me to deliver your usual orders without instructing me on who receives the potatoes.  I hope you can understand it was a simple mistake.”

Rhema smiled as the waiter turned to her, bowed, and spoke.  As the waiter stood up to his full height Rhema got the first glance of this waiter’s complete appearance.  His dark curly hair lay tight to his head above a face that contained a strong chin and dimples as the waiter smiled and lightly blushed.  The strings that were intended to tie his tunic tight to his chest lay slightly unraveled, exposing a well defined collarbone as he bowed.  His strong, muscular arms showed through the light fabric of his waiter uniform and Rhema couldn’t help but looking down to his muscular calf muscles as well.  It was clear that this waiter cared for his physical appearance.

She smiled brightly as she replied to the waiter.  “It is nothing to concern yourself over, sir.  It is a simple mistake indeed, and one gratefully corrected might I add.”  As the waiter smiled and turned to leave the table Rhema couldn’t help but lower her eyes and make sure the waiter was as trim and fit from the back as he appeared from the front.  Her eyes did not disappoint.

Ischarus noticed the object of her attention and chuckled once more. “Rhema, your potatoes are getting cold.”

Rhema turned her head away from the waiter and looked back to her traveling companion, blushing slightly.  “What are you looking at?”  Her question rang out in a defensive tone to accuse Ischarus as he looked to her inquisitively.

“Me?” Ischarus replied in a tone that relayed a faux shocked and humored condition.  “I believe I am the one who should be asking the question about your eyes wandering and not mine!”

Rhema blushed even more.  “You’re just jealous!” she accused.

Ischarus lowered his head a bit so that he could mock looking down his nose at her.  “You’re avoiding the question at hand.”  He smiled and chuckled once more, sipping his water in the process.

Rhema grabbed for her fork, but Ischarus’ much more powerful hand trapped her hand on the table before it could move too far.  “You’ll eat when I get my answer,” Ischarus teased.

Rhema smiled, enjoying the exchange.  “Fine.  I was looking.  Can’t a girl appreciate a trim physical body when one presents itself?”  Rhema fluttered her eyes in a flirtatious manner towards Ischarus.

Her companion smiled knowingly as she batted her eyelashes in his direction.  “Your charms will not work on me, Rhema.  But as long as you are honest with yourself and you admit that I caught you judging a book by its cover, I suppose I can let you eat.”  Ischarus removed his hand and folded his arms before him.  He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied look on his face.

Rhema finally broke down and laughed.  “You’re as protective of me as my brother, Ischarus.  She inhaled and allowed a slow sigh to follow her statement.  Thanks for keeping me honest.”

Ischarus looked deeply into her eyes.  “M’lady, I swore to protect you.  Since I took that oath we’ve become friends at a deeper level than I ever thought would be possible given each of our talents.  I enjoy your company.  Forgive me if I come off as too protective.  I’d never forgive myself if I did anything to hurt our friendship.”

Rhema nibbled on a bite of potato and added, “I don’t know where I’d be without you, Ischarus.  I’m glad you were chosen to journey with me.”  She paused for a moment and changed the conversation topic.  “I think I’ve finally warmed up from the evening chill outside.”

Rhema rose from her seat and undid the several clasps that held her navy blue robe in place around her body.  She opened the front of the robe and removed it from her shoulders and drew her arms out of the sleeves.  After neatly folding it and placing it across the empty chair at the table to her right, she sat down once more.

Once her robe was removed she exposed her simple beauty underneath.  She wore a simple brown shirt whose neckline dipped only a modest 2 inches down below her neck.  It exposed her dark skin underneath.  The sleeves of the shirt extended down her arms to halfway between her elbow and her wrist.  Her arms were clearly those of one who had seen little strenuously exercise to build the muscle tone.  She also wore a full length dark brown skirt that covered her legs in entirety.  At the bottom of her skirt were two simple bands of color.  The topmost band was a simple beige strip of cloth that encircled the skirt.  Below it was a much more flashy and decorative swath of material: a thick swatch of lace that had been dyed pale sky blue.  This band of lace made up the bottom of the full length skirt.  Her feet wore boots whose tops lay temptingly higher up her leg than the bottom of her skirt would allow an onlooker to view.

As Rhema took off her robe and folded it, Ischarus was careful to watch the other patrons in the _Cachinnating Roadhouse_ rather than watching Rhema as she removed her outer layer of clothing.  It was tempting to allow her to capture his focus, but he knew that this was a perfect opportunity to judge the company they kept in the inn this evening.  Ischarus made note of one man sitting at the bar who seemed to take significant interest in her plainly beautiful figure.  

As if in a show of power, Ischarus himself stood and removed his own gray robe.  Underneath his robe Ischarus demonstrated his own muscular body.  He wore a layer of leather above his chain armor.  The black leather extended from shoulder to shoulder and down slightly below his waist.  His strong arms rippled the chain links as his muscles flexed through the process of removing his cloak.  Once he was done folding his own robe he placed it beside Rhema’s own navy blue cloak.  

Ischarus’ hair lay slightly below his shoulders and his chin was framed with a well trimmed beard and moustache.  From the waist down, Ischarus wore a simple pair of cloth pants to hide the armor that lay underneath.  His leather boots laced up nearly to his knees and covered the cloth pants and the end of the chain armor.  His sword rested in its scabbard attached to his belt at his right side.

Continuing to watch the single individual at the bar, Ischarus sat down in his chair and spoke to Rhema.  “Feel better?” Ischarus said, obviously distracted by the man.

“I’d feel better if you let that man alone, Ischarus.  You are my guardian, of course.  You are the sword that protects me and the shield that keeps offenders from striking me down.  But remember that until they draw a weapon, people are my specialty.  Let me deal with him if he comes our way.  If he is a lonely man drinking his fill and enjoying the beauty that has been placed on this earth and that’s as far as he takes it, let him enjoy his fantasy.”  She smiled as she drew Ischarus’ eyes back to her face with her own gaze.

Archis himself approached the table and bowed his head slightly until he was addressed.  Archis was tall for a gnome, but still considerably shorter than either Ischarus or Rhema.  “I took the liberty of sending the stable hand to collect your horses.  I peeked and saw the normal two out there.  I hope this pleases you.”

Ischarus smiled broadly at the welcome change of conversation.  “Indeed it does, good friend.  That is one reason why we stop here each time through your fair city.  Your loyalty knows no end.”

Replied also smiled warmly towards Archis and spoke in addition to Ischarus’ compliment.  “Neither does his memory, Ischarus.”

Archis bowed once more and prepared to leave.  “You both honor me with your warm words.  If you desire I can arrange for your usual suite?”

Ischarus smiled and nodded.  “It has been a long trip on a dusty road, Archis.  I believe the lady will desire a warm bath when we retire.  Could you see that arranged as well?”

The gnome nodded.  “Easily done, sir.”  The shorter man held up a hand to keep either Rhema or Ischarus from interrupting him.  “But I’ve distracted you from you meal long enough now.  Please, continue to enjoy your food.”  Archis smiled and bowed slightly once more.  He left the pair at their table to eat in peace.  That was their custom, after all.  This pair was more than friendly to all who approached them with sincere and honorable motives; yet they most often ate alone at an isolated table and retired to their suite together.  Archis figured that tonight would be no different.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
A few blocks away from the home of the newly widowed Channah Sathwright, two riders on horseback slowly pulled their horses to a halt outside a local popular tavern. Although the riders were only passing through town, they had traveled their route often enough to know the hitching posts in front of the Cachinnating Roadhouse well. It was a stop they frequented every time that they passed through Reignsburg.

The riders were each dressed in cloaks with the hoods pulled up and over their faces. The effect was to completely shadow their faces from anyone who might casually look in their general direction while still giving them the ability to see straight forward. The lead rider turned his hooded head in the direction of the one who followed and with the index finger of his left hand he pulled the edge of his hood back just enough to be able to see the other rider. “Rhema, I think we should stop for the night. I could use a drink of ale – or at least a glass of water with a twist of lime if you won’t let me drink tonight.” He chuckled a bit, demonstrating to his partner that he was in good spirits.

“Ischarus, you know that I am not the one who keeps you from drinking your precious ale. As for stopping, I do believe I smell Archis’ famous potatoes. I love his potatoes, Ischarus. I love the way he cooks them long enough over the grill that they assume the flavor of not only the onions but just about everything else that he has cooked on the grill this evening. I’d appreciate it if you’ll do me the favor of stopping.”

The female voice of the second rider soothingly flowed out of her mouth. The sweet words hinted at flirtation with Ischarus, but stopped just short of demonstrating direct interest. At the beckon of her words, Ischarus pulled back on the reigns for his own horse and with a simple lean of the reigns on the right side of the large horse’s neck he managed to swing the horse into a standing counterclockwise turn so that his horse was facing the Cachinnating Roadhouse. He slipped out of the saddle with a single fluid motion and then took the reigns from Rhema for her own horse. Once he had both horses under control he joined both sets of reigns in his right hand.

As he moved, Rhema commented from atop her horse, “Oh Ischarus, you simply spoil me so.”

Ischarus’ smile was well hidden from Rhema by the edge of the hood of his cloak. His words betrayed his pleasure derived from Rhema’s earlier comment. “Nonsense, m’lady. You honor me with your presence. I’ll not have you descend a moving horse and risk twisting one of those fair ankles of yours.” Although their hoods were still both concealing their faces, from her superior position atop her horse Rhema could still look down upon the gray hood of Ischarus and imagine the man beneath the protective cloak. She smiled as the thought satisfied her and she graciously allowed her riding partner to do his job.

Ischarus spoke softly into the horses’ ears. “Elistra, Shauvry come.” The horses followed Ischarus up to the hitching posts without needing to rely on a strong use of the reigns. Ischarus quickly tied the horses to the hitching post and ducked under the neck of Shauvry. The slight clink of metal armor could be heard as he dipped under the horse. Once he had arrived onto the other side he moved back to Rhema and held out a guiding arm that was covered by the sleeve of his cloak.  “M’lady, as it suits your schedule I’m here to assist you.”

Rhema swung her leg over the side of the horse with nearly the same grace as Ischarus had done upon Elistra. Her movements illustrated that she didn’t need the help of Ischarus. Instead, she seemed to allow him to serve her because it gave him satisfaction. As she slipped out of the saddle, Ischarus slid his hands up the side of her body until the caught her under the arms. He lightly lowered her thin body to the ground, enjoying the curvature of her thin frame.

Rhema reached up with a hand and caressed the neck of Shauvry. “It’ll only be a short time until the stable boy comes to collect you, dear. Be a good girl and keep Elistra safe.” She slipped her hand back inside the sleeve of her cloak and turned towards the door of the tavern.

Ischarus stepped ahead and opened the door before Rhema. Light poured out of the entrance of the inn and spilled into the dark night outside the inn. Rhema’s navy blue robe glistened as the light struck it. She stepped inside, leading the way ahead of Ischarus. As Ischarus crossed the threshold of the door and shut the night air out, Rhema pulled back the hood of her cloak and allowed it to naturally fold down her back. She lifted both hands up behind her neck and with a single motion pulled her long dark brown hair out from underneath the collar of her cloak. Her hair settled down along her back with a few strands curling around her ears and falling to the front of her shoulders. She smiled broadly with a near perfectly symmetrical smile as she scanned the room and spotted Archis. He was not only the cook, but also the barkeeper and owner of the Cachinnating Roadhouse . Naturally, Archis returned the smile and nearly didn’t resist giving her body a passing glance while he went about his work.

As the shorter Rhema pushed the hood of her cloak back, Ischarus followed with the same gesture. He lifted his own hood up and like Rhema he too pulled his black hair out from under his cloak. Rather than looking for Archis, Ischarus played the role of guardian and spotted an empty table surrounded by at least one empty table on each side. He leaned forward into Rhema and pointed with his gauntleted right index finger. “There, m’lady. Your seat awaits and I do believe I can smell the ale and the potatoes being prepared for us as we speak. The sooner we take our seats the quicker Archis can direct the waitress to bring us your heart’s desire.”

The two sat down at the table and Archis indeed called one of his serving staff to his side. He spent only a moment preparing a few drinks while he sent the staff into the kitchen to fetch some food. When the servant that Archis had beckoned returned from the kitchen, Archis nodded to the table where Ischarus and Rhema sat and pointed to the drinks he had prepared. Ischarus smiled as he saw Archis pointing towards his table.

Ischarus’ smile turned into a chuckle as the food and drinks approached the table. Rhema looked up and noticed his grin. “Ischarus, what do you find so funny? You’ve not yet had even a single ale to drink!”

Ischarus only smiled more broadly at Rhema’s accusation. As luck would have it for Rhema, it turned out to be a waiter and not a waitress who brought the potatoes to the table. Approaching the table and noting that there were only two patrons waiting to be served, the waiter placed a single lime water before each of the patrons and placed the steaming plate of potatoes in front of Ischarus. The man chuckled at the simple mistake caused by the waiter’s assumption.

Ischarus made a bit of small talk as the waiter sat down the drinks and food. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before, sir, are you new?” 

The waiter replied in a friendly tone, “Aye, sir. I started the job a mere two weeks ago. Is it that obvious?”

Ischarus chuckled again at the waiter. “No, not really. Only you’ve put the potatoes in front of the wrong patron. A simple mistake, though. Don’t fret about it at all.”

The waiter smiled at the fact that his premature assumption had been caught in addition to being incorrect. He turned to Rhema and bowed slightly. “Forgive me, m’lady. Archis merely told me to deliver your usual orders without instructing me on who receives the potatoes. I hope you can understand it was a simple mistake.”

Rhema smiled as the waiter turned to her, bowed, and spoke. As the waiter stood up to his full height Rhema got the first glance of this waiter’s complete appearance. His dark curly hair lay tight to his head above a face that contained a strong chin and dimples as the waiter smiled and lightly blushed. The strings that were intended to tie his tunic tight to his chest lay slightly unraveled, exposing a well defined collarbone as he bowed. His strong, muscular arms showed through the light fabric of his waiter uniform and Rhema couldn’t help but looking down to his muscular calf muscles as well. It was clear that this waiter cared for his physical appearance.

She smiled brightly as she replied to the waiter. “It is nothing to concern yourself over, sir. It is a simple mistake indeed, and one gratefully corrected might I add.” As the waiter smiled and turned to leave the table Rhema couldn’t help but lower her eyes and make sure the waiter was as trim and fit from the back as he appeared from the front. Her eyes did not disappoint.

Ischarus noticed the object of her attention and chuckled once more. “Rhema, your potatoes are getting cold.”

Rhema turned her head away from the waiter and looked back to her traveling companion, blushing slightly. “What are you looking at?” Her question rang out in a defensive tone to accuse Ischarus as he looked to her inquisitively.

“Me?” Ischarus replied in a tone that relayed a faux shocked and humored condition. “I believe I am the one who should be asking the question about your eyes wandering and not mine!”

Rhema blushed even more. “You’re just jealous!” she accused.

Ischarus lowered his head a bit so that he could mock looking down his nose at her. “You’re avoiding the question at hand.” He smiled and chuckled once more, sipping his water in the process.

Rhema grabbed for her fork, but Ischarus’ much more powerful hand trapped her hand on the table before it could move too far. “You’ll eat when I get my answer,” Ischarus teased.

Rhema smiled, enjoying the exchange. “Fine. I was looking. Can’t a girl appreciate a trim physical body when one presents itself?” Rhema fluttered her eyes in a flirtatious manner towards Ischarus.

Her companion smiled knowingly as she batted her eyelashes in his direction. “Your charms will not work on me, Rhema. But as long as you are honest with yourself and you admit that I caught you judging a book by its cover, I suppose I can let you eat.” Ischarus removed his hand and folded his arms before him. He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied look on his face.

Rhema finally broke down and laughed. “You’re as protective of me as my brother, Ischarus. She inhaled and allowed a slow sigh to follow her statement. Thanks for keeping me honest.”

Ischarus looked deeply into her eyes. “M’lady, I swore to protect you. Since I took that oath we’ve become friends at a deeper level than I ever thought would be possible given each of our talents. I enjoy your company. Forgive me if I come off as too protective. I’d never forgive myself if I did anything to hurt our friendship.”

Rhema nibbled on a bite of potato and added, “I don’t know where I’d be without you, Ischarus. I’m glad you were chosen to journey with me.” She paused for a moment and changed the conversation topic. “I think I’ve finally warmed up from the evening chill outside.”

Rhema rose from her seat and undid the several clasps that held her navy blue robe in place around her body. She opened the front of the robe and removed it from her shoulders and drew her arms out of the sleeves. After neatly folding it and placing it across the empty chair at the table to her right, she sat down once more.

Once her robe was removed she exposed her simple beauty underneath. She wore a simple brown shirt whose neckline dipped only a modest 2 inches down below her neck. It exposed her dark skin underneath. The sleeves of the shirt extended down her arms to halfway between her elbow and her wrist. Her arms were clearly those of one who had seen little strenuously exercise to build the muscle tone. She also wore a full length dark brown skirt that covered her legs in entirety. At the bottom of her skirt were two simple bands of color. The topmost band was a simple beige strip of cloth that encircled the skirt. Below it was a much more flashy and decorative swath of material: a thick swatch of lace that had been dyed pale sky blue. This band of lace made up the bottom of the full length skirt. Her feet wore boots whose tops lay temptingly higher up her leg than the bottom of her skirt would allow an onlooker to view.

As Rhema took off her robe and folded it, Ischarus was careful to watch the other patrons in the Cachinnating Roadhouse rather than watching Rhema as she removed her outer layer of clothing. It was tempting to allow her to capture his focus, but he knew that this was a perfect opportunity to judge the company they kept in the inn this evening. Ischarus made note of one man sitting at the bar who seemed to take significant interest in her plainly beautiful figure. 

As if in a show of power, Ischarus himself stood and removed his own gray robe. Underneath his robe Ischarus demonstrated his own muscular body. He wore a layer of leather above his chain armor. The black leather extended from shoulder to shoulder and down slightly below his waist. His strong arms rippled the chain links as his muscles flexed through the process of removing his cloak. Once he was done folding his own robe he placed it beside Rhema’s own navy blue cloak. 

Ischarus’ hair lay slightly below his shoulders and his chin was framed with a well trimmed beard and moustache. From the waist down, Ischarus wore a simple pair of cloth pants to hide the armor that lay underneath. His leather boots laced up nearly to his knees and covered the cloth pants and the end of the chain armor. His sword rested in its scabbard attached to his belt at his right side.

Continuing to watch the single individual at the bar, Ischarus sat down in his chair and spoke to Rhema. “Feel better?” Ischarus said, obviously distracted by the man.

“I’d feel better if you let that man alone, Ischarus. You are my guardian, of course. You are the sword that protects me and the shield that keeps offenders from striking me down. But remember that until they draw a weapon, people are my specialty. Let me deal with him if he comes our way. If he is a lonely man drinking his fill and enjoying the beauty that has been placed on this earth and that’s as far as he takes it, let him enjoy his fantasy.” She smiled as she drew Ischarus’ eyes back to her face with her own gaze.

Archis himself approached the table and bowed his head slightly until he was addressed. Archis was tall for a gnome, but still considerably shorter than either Ischarus or Rhema. “I took the liberty of sending the stable hand to collect your horses. I peeked and saw the normal two out there. I hope this pleases you.”

Ischarus smiled broadly at the welcome change of conversation. “Indeed it does, good friend. That is one reason why we stop here each time through your fair city. Your loyalty knows no end.”

Replied also smiled warmly towards Archis and spoke in addition to Ischarus’ compliment. “Neither does his memory, Ischarus.”

Archis bowed once more and prepared to leave. “You both honor me with your warm words. If you desire I can arrange for your usual suite?”

Ischarus smiled and nodded. “It has been a long trip on a dusty road, Archis. I believe the lady will desire a warm bath when we retire. Could you see that arranged as well?”

The gnome nodded. “Easily done, sir.” The shorter man held up a hand to keep either Rhema or Ischarus from interrupting him. “But I’ve distracted you from you meal long enough now. Please, continue to enjoy your food.” Archis smiled and bowed slightly once more. He left the pair at their table to eat in peace. That was their custom, after all. This pair was more than friendly to all who approached them with sincere and honorable motives; yet they most often ate alone at an isolated table and retired to their suite together. Archis figured that tonight would be no different.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (May 10, 2006)

Just outside the _Cachinnating Roadhouse,_ Semeion approached the door.  The chill in the air caused him to pull his cloak tightly around his form so that only his nose peeked out and left a small hole through which his eyes could watch the ground.  His protruding nose caught a whiff of Archis’ famed potatoes and he breathed in deeply to inhale the scent.  His pace quickened a bit as he hurried to the door.

Semeion easily opened the door just enough to slip inside and then he allowed the door to close as quickly as possible.  It was his first time in this place; his master forbade his attendance by using the explanation that ale was a bad drink to mix with arcane talents.  With the acceptance of the unlimited power of the arcane came the responsibility of always keeping oneself in control.  It was bad enough when a sword wielding fighter got drunk.  People were at risk of being injured in such a case.  But when an arcanist should lose control of his responsibility the world was potentially at risk.  

Semeion hesitated by the door just long enough to take in the room.  Archis noticed him hanging out by the door and invited him in further.  “Pull back your hood and pull up a chair at the bar, friend.  Come in away from the door and you’ll warm up soon enough.  Put some of my potatoes in your belly and top it with a little ale and you’ll find yourself refreshed in a hurry.”  The tall gnome smiled as he flashed his hand toward Semeion with a gesture that indicated an invitation.

Ischarus smiled as Semeion pulled back his hood.  The semi-lost expression on Semeion’s face revealed to Ischarus that he wasn’t altogether familiar with taverns and roadhouses.  Rhema wrinkled her eyebrows as if to ask Ischarus what had caught his attention behind her.  Ischarus smiled and nodded in Semeion’s direction.  Rhema turned slightly and gazed at Semeion out of the corner of her eye as the newcomer pulled the hood of his cloak back.  

She turned her head back to Ischarus and scooped up another fork full of potatoes.  Before she ate them she added, “Aw, he’s a cute one.  I bet he’s never been in here before, though.”

Ischarus chuckled again.  “Is there any guy you don’t find attractive, Rhema?”

Rhema smirked as she chewed and after she swallowed she added, “Besides you, Ischarus?  I can’t think of anyone.  Even Archis is cute in a gnome sort of way.  I just like people, you know that.”  Ischarus only smiled in response.

Semeion took the gnome’s advice and stepped towards the bar.  Only once he had committed himself to sitting at the bar did he notice that all those at the bar were already staring at him.  Desiring to not draw any more attention to himself than he already had Semeion hurried to the bar and took the first open seat.  The burly man who was already seated beside him said, “Gronk won’t like you when he returns, kid.”

Semeion turned to the man and stopped for a moment to observe the speaker who had greeted him in such a gruff manner.  Semeion took in the throwing axe strapped to each leg, the battle axe hung from the man’s belt, and the great sword strapped to his back.  It didn’t take much for Semeion to realize this man was far out of his league.  As Semeion looked to the man’s face he realized the gruff man must have had some orcish blood in his family.  His forehead was large and blunt and he had an enormous yet flat nose that flared with each breath.  His bottom canine teeth extended up from his lower jaw and stuck out enough to trap his upper lip when his mouth was closed.  Semeion seriously considered leaving without even offering a simply reply.

Naturally, before Semeion could make up his mind about leaving a large hand grabbed him from behind and lifted him from the bar seat.  “You in my chair, boy.  You best not have drunk my ale.” 

The man who had originally spoken to Semeion continued to look straight ahead over the top of the bar as he addressed the young mage.  “I see you’ve now met my brother Gronk.  I warned you to move.”

Archis quickly stepped up and spoke to the orc-blooded brothers, “Listen here Gronk and Frak.  I’ll not have trouble in the Roadhouse tonight.  Especially against someone who’s not been here before.  This ain’t no way to treat a new customer and for my sake I expect you to put him down.”

Before Gronk or Frak could reply, a sweet voice originated from directly behind Gronk.  “You’ll let the boy down onto the stool and release him.  You’re going to let him come and sit at our table so he can leave you and your brother alone for the rest of the night.  That way, you can enjoy your potatoes and ale and forget this ever happened.”  The voice was soothing in its slow and convincing speech.

Gronk did as the voice said.  He released Semeion back to the seat on the stool.  Semeion quickly scrambled off of the seat as Gronk turned to face his challenger.  Semeion and Gronk both saw Rhema for the first time as she boldly stood less than 3 feet from the much taller Gronk.  The massive orc-blooded man dwarfed the delicately framed Rhema.

Gronk rejected Rhema out of hand immediately upon seeing her.  “Bah.  What do you think you were going to be able to do to me, woman?  I should throw you outside just for interrupting my fun.”

Semeion attempted to prepare himself to recall his arcane powers should this situation turn ugly.  Ischarus, however, remained seated at the table and snuck a few of Rhema’s potatoes while she was otherwise distracted.  He smirked at the orc-blooded man’s challenge.

Rhema smiled once more and her delicate lips parted slightly as she prepared to speak.  “Listen, Gronk.  We’re all here to just enjoy ourselves and enjoy a good meal.  I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be eating some of Archis’ potatoes right now than being involved in this little altercation.”  Her voice remained calm in spite of the obvious physical treat.

Gronk sneered at the smaller woman and his left hand reached for the axe on his side.  Rhema lifted her index finger to her temple and Gronk immediately dropped to his knees well before he could securely reach his weapon.  As Rhema focused in on Gronk, the half-orc man cried out after being brought to his knees.  “Stop, lady!  Gronk just want have fun with lady.  Gronk not really hurt lady.”

Rhema smiled.  “I thought you would see it my way,” she said as she removed her finger from her temple.  “Now stand up like the good fighter than you are.  Turn around and sit down onto the stool.  Enjoy those potatoes and that ale of yours.  Most importantly, forget that this ever happened.”

Gronk wordlessly obeyed Rhema’s commands, appearing as if he feared another one of the woman’s silent attacks.  Rhema reached out a welcoming hand to Semeion and said, “Hey, why don’t you come over here and join my friend and myself.  You can sit with us and tell us a little bit about yourself.”

Semeion returned Rhema’s smile and replied, “You know, I think I’d like that.  This is my first time being in here, if you couldn’t tell.”

Rhema closed her fingers around Semeion’s hand and led him back to the table.   “Really,”  she replied as though she hadn’t considered the fact that Semeion appeared out of his normal routine,  “I would have never noticed myself.”

As Semeion approached the table, Ischarus got a better look at the young mage and smiled as he approached.  “Welcome, friend.” He added, forgetting that Rhema’s fork was still in his hand.

“Hey!” interjected Rhema.  “You were eating my potatoes while I was helping this poor lad try and find a place to sit.  I can’t believe you are that kind of an opportunist.”  Rhema’s speech took on a slightly fake wounded tone as she winked at Semeion.

Ischarus rose up out of his seat and reached across the table to put his hand on her shoulder.  “It’s alright; I’ll go get another plate for our guest, here.  I’m sure that he might enjoy the food and I bet he’d be willing to share.  You know, unlike some people I know.  Besides, I think that I owe him a plate of potatoes.”  Ischarus played with Rhema's mind as his eyes danced in a slight eye roll.

Rhema only laughed in return.  “You do that, you noble man.  Go get food for your guest and when you come back perhaps he will grace us with his tale.”  She turned and looked into Semeion’s eyes.

Ischarus returned quickly with a plate of potatoes and a glass of water with lime in it.  Semeion readily accepted the plate of potatoes and chuckled to himself when he received the glass of water with lime.  The chuckle inspired Ischarus to inquire about the response from Semeion.  “Inside joke you’d care to let us in on?” Ischarus added a friendly smile as he inquired of Semeion’s chuckle.

Semeion shook his head from side to side as he stuffed a potato into his mouth.  “No, no secret, really.  Just something someone I knew used to say to me.  He would always advise against me getting ale to drink.  He said it was a bad combination with being able to think straight and maintain control.”

Ischarus replied with a wink to Rhema.  “Sound advice if you ask me.  I know my friend here won’t let me touch the stuff either.”  Ischarus left a wink for Rhema; Rhema merely rolled her eyes at the gesture and the remark.

Rhema replied, “Don’t let Ischarus kid you.  He wouldn’t touch the stuff even if you put it right in front of him.  He doesn’t care for the taste if you ask me.  But if you ask him it is a control issue.  He doesn’t like to carry a sword that’s able to separate a person’s head from their shoulders and not be in control of his decision making at all times.”

Semeion looked to Ischarus and then quickly back to the potatoes.  Lifting the glass of water with the lime in it he adds, “Yeah.  Sounds a lot like my master’s advice.”  Semeion’s tone took on a sorrowful tone with this last expression.

Rhema picked up on the tone and continued, “I’m Rhema, by the way.  Good to meet you.  If you don’t mind me asking I noticed a bit of hurt in that tone of yours when you talk about your master.  You mind if I ask why?”

Semeion chocked back the emotion as he tried to relay the story of his master’s tragic demise.  As part of the story, Semeion told about how he came back into town, almost caused an accident, and visited his master’s widow just before coming to the _Cachinnating Roadhouse_.  A sheepish grin crossed over Ischarus’ face as Semeion talked.  After telling the story Semeion looked at Ischarus and could feel his inner turmoil being eased merely by telling the story.  Inquiring of the sheepish grin Semeion asked, “What’s so funny?”

Semeion couldn’t help but laugh a little bit over Ischarus’ silly grin.  His body relished the brief opportunity to laugh after the last two days of pain.  Ischarus replied, “Well, I thought when I first saw you that I owed you a plate of potatoes.”

Semeion looked to Ischarus and laughed a couple more times and replied, “What do you mean?”  Rhema seconded Semeion’s inquiry with an inquisitive look of her own.

“Well,” continued Ischarus while looking to Rhema.  “Remember when I returned to the stables and said I was delayed on my trip home because I nearly was run over by a carriage and in the process of steering Elistra away I nearly ran over a cloaked person?  Well, I believe our cloaked person has found me in return!”

Semeion couldn’t believe his ears.  He looked down to his plate of potatoes in sheer embarrassment.  Ischarus and Rhema both noticed his body language and Rhema replied, “Hey, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

Ischarus added, “Indeed.  If anyone should be embarrassed it should be me for nearly running Elistra into you!”

Semeion looked up and shook his head.  “You two are amazing.  I embarrass myself in front of each of you and you make a point to make me feel better.”  A slight smile returned to his face as he spoke.

Rhema reached out with her delicate fingers and lifted his chin so that she looked straight into his eyes.  “Now you listen to me, Semeion.  You’ve nothing to apologize for.  You’ve lost your master and had a lot on your mind.  I’m actually impressed with your behavior and think it has been incredibly mature.  In all actuality, I think your master was right in that you were ready to strike out on your own.”

Her confidence seemed to stream from her eyes as well as through her touch and into his body.  “Thanks,” was all that Semeion could muster.

Ischarus grinned with a bright idea.  “In fact, if you’ve got nothing else to fill your time, I think we could use a person of your type on our quests.  We could use a person with your talents.  You know how to ride well?”

Semeion replied, “Well, I do know how to ride but it’s been a while.  Unfortunately I don’t have a horse of my own.  But I might be interested in finding something new to occupy my time.  What is it that you guys do with your time?”

Rhema smiled and turned to Ischarus and replied, “I’ll let you handle this.”

Ischarus looked into Semeion’s eyes and added with a straight face.  “We traffic women across the border out of Quehalost and into Tongra.”

Semeion responded in complete surprise.  “You go into Quehalost?  By yourselves?”  After a few moments Semeion’s expression turned to utter confusion and he added, “You traffic women?”

Rhema burst out into laughter and Ischarus began to chuckle as well.  “Technically we traffic women, children, and men across the border.  We don’t really care about age or gender.  You see, there are many people trapped within that evil land that simply do not know anything but pain, torture, abuse, and physical labor through slavery.  It’s my job to go in and bring people out into freedom.  I’ve been doing it for about two years now.  Rhema here has been my assistant for almost all of that time.”

Rhema interjected, “Yeah, my dad operated one of the safe houses that Ischarus brought his freed passengers to.  My dad helps them learn a new culture and find employment so that they can stand on their own feet.  When Ischarus brought his first rescue back it was a beautiful red haired Drakontos girl who was to be a sacrifice to the ancient wyrm that they served.  It took a long time to break her of her belief that she could be anything but a sacrifice so that the dragon wouldn’t destroy their village.  It took several months, but my dad and I did it.  I learned that I have a real passion for dealing with people – in more ways than one.  I like helping people and building them up.  So when Ischarus returned a second time with two men that he had saved I volunteered to join him.  He knew about my gifts and admitted that while I was a bit on the frail side that my silver tongue would really make his work easier.  Since then we’ve been partners.  He swore to my father to protect me, but I end up saving more often than not.”

Ischarus looked at Rhema with a look that spoke more than simple appreciation while she told her story.  After a few seconds he realized Rhema stopped talking and he brought himself back into reality.  He picked up the conversation where Rhema had left off.  “Ah, yeah.  You’ll notice that I didn’t bother getting up to protect her from that half-orc over there.  Rhema doesn’t look like much, but if she can get into your mind before you can draw a weapon she’ll win every time.  She didn’t need my protection, though I’d have generously offered it.”

Semeion looked at Ischarus and then back to Rhema.  “You guys are serious?  You venture into Quehalost regularly and return alive?  Wow, that’s amazing.  And to think of putting your talents to good use like that.  I think I could definitely be interested in helping you all out.  If you’ll have me, that is.  Well, I’d at least like to go along once and see what happens.”

Ischarus put his hand on Semeion’s shoulder.  “Well, Rhema and I were going to head out of town for Quehalost tomorrow morning.  I think we could afford to stay in town for another day to let you think things through and give you a chance to think about it.  We’d need to find you a horse, but that wouldn’t be much trouble.  You got any money, Semeion?”

“I have a little.  Probably not enough to buy a horse, though.  But I can pay my own nights and meals and stuff.”  Semeion’s excited tone illustrated that he began to think highly of this possibility.  He longed to set his life in a new direction given that his life in Reignsburg had just lost momentum.  This would be a new direction and a chance to do something good in his life.  This would be a way to make Master Sathwright’s death have meaning.  Semeion made up his mind.  He would ride with them if he could find a horse.

“I’ll … uh.  I’ll think about it.” Semeion said with a smile on his face.  “Can I meet you here for lunch tomorrow and let you know for sure?”

Rhema let out a little squeal of delight.  Ischarus rolled his eyes and shook his head.  “Lunch will be fine.  Just in case I’ll talk to the stable master where we board Elistra and Shauvry and see if he knows of a few horses we might go look at come tomorrow afternoon.  You know, of course, if you’re still interested.”

Semeion said, “Yeah.  I think that should work.  I’ll let you know tomorrow then.”  A broad smile crossed his face as he finished the last of his potatoes.  He looked down as his fork scraped across the metal plate.  “Oh.  It looks like I didn’t leave any to share,” Semeion confided.

Rhema laughed.  “That’s all right.  I’m sure you can pay us back sometime.”  Rhema winked at Semeion and leaned back in her chair with a contented look upon her face.  The three sat around the table for another hour talking about the past adventures of Rhema and Ischarus before returning to their homes for the night.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Just outside the Cachinnating Roadhouse, Semeion approached the door. The chill in the air caused him to pull his cloak tightly around his form so that only his nose peeked out and left a small hole through which his eyes could watch the ground. His protruding nose caught a whiff of Archis’ famed potatoes and he breathed in deeply to inhale the scent. His pace quickened a bit as he hurried to the door.

Semeion easily opened the door just enough to slip inside and then he allowed the door to close as quickly as possible. It was his first time in this place; his master forbade his attendance by using the explanation that ale was a bad drink to mix with arcane talents. With the acceptance of the unlimited power of the arcane came the responsibility of always keeping oneself in control. It was bad enough when a sword wielding fighter got drunk. People were at risk of being injured in such a case. But when an arcanist should lose control of his responsibility the world was potentially at risk. 

Semeion hesitated by the door just long enough to take in the room. Archis noticed him hanging out by the door and invited him in further. “Pull back your hood and pull up a chair at the bar, friend. Come in away from the door and you’ll warm up soon enough. Put some of my potatoes in your belly and top it with a little ale and you’ll find yourself refreshed in a hurry.” The tall gnome smiled as he flashed his hand toward Semeion with a gesture that indicated an invitation.

Ischarus smiled as Semeion pulled back his hood. The semi-lost expression on Semeion’s face revealed to Ischarus that he wasn’t altogether familiar with taverns and roadhouses. Rhema wrinkled her eyebrows as if to ask Ischarus what had caught his attention behind her. Ischarus smiled and nodded in Semeion’s direction. Rhema turned slightly and gazed at Semeion out of the corner of her eye as the newcomer pulled the hood of his cloak back. 

She turned her head back to Ischarus and scooped up another fork full of potatoes. Before she ate them she added, “Aw, he’s a cute one. I bet he’s never been in here before, though.”

Ischarus chuckled again. “Is there any guy you don’t find attractive, Rhema?”

Rhema smirked as she chewed and after she swallowed she added, “Besides you, Ischarus? I can’t think of anyone. Even Archis is cute in a gnome sort of way. I just like people, you know that.” Ischarus only smiled in response.

Semeion took the gnome’s advice and stepped towards the bar. Only once he had committed himself to sitting at the bar did he notice that all those at the bar were already staring at him. Desiring to not draw any more attention to himself than he already had Semeion hurried to the bar and took the first open seat. The burly man who was already seated beside him said, “Gronk won’t like you when he returns, kid.”

Semeion turned to the man and stopped for a moment to observe the speaker who had greeted him in such a gruff manner. Semeion took in the throwing axe strapped to each leg, the battle axe hung from the man’s belt, and the great sword strapped to his back. It didn’t take much for Semeion to realize this man was far out of his league. As Semeion looked to the man’s face he realized the gruff man must have had some orcish blood in his family. His forehead was large and blunt and he had an enormous yet flat nose that flared with each breath. His bottom canine teeth extended up from his lower jaw and stuck out enough to trap his upper lip when his mouth was closed. Semeion seriously considered leaving without even offering a simply reply.

Naturally, before Semeion could make up his mind about leaving a large hand grabbed him from behind and lifted him from the bar seat. “You in my chair, boy. You best not have drunk my ale.” 

The man who had originally spoken to Semeion continued to look straight ahead over the top of the bar as he addressed the young mage. “I see you’ve now met my brother Gronk. I warned you to move.”

Archis quickly stepped up and spoke to the orc-blooded brothers, “Listen here Gronk and Frak. I’ll not have trouble in the Roadhouse tonight. Especially against someone who’s not been here before. This ain’t no way to treat a new customer and for my sake I expect you to put him down.”

Before Gronk or Frak could reply, a sweet voice originated from directly behind Gronk. “You’ll let the boy down onto the stool and release him. You’re going to let him come and sit at our table so he can leave you and your brother alone for the rest of the night. That way, you can enjoy your potatoes and ale and forget this ever happened.” The voice was soothing in its slow and convincing speech.

Gronk did as the voice said. He released Semeion back to the seat on the stool. Semeion quickly scrambled off of the seat as Gronk turned to face his challenger. Semeion and Gronk both saw Rhema for the first time as she boldly stood less than 3 feet from the much taller Gronk. The massive orc-blooded man dwarfed the delicately framed Rhema.

Gronk rejected Rhema out of hand immediately upon seeing her. “Bah. What do you think you were going to be able to do to me, woman? I should throw you outside just for interrupting my fun.”

Semeion attempted to prepare himself to recall his arcane powers should this situation turn ugly. Ischarus, however, remained seated at the table and snuck a few of Rhema’s potatoes while she was otherwise distracted. He smirked at the orc-blooded man’s challenge.

Rhema smiled once more and her delicate lips parted slightly as she prepared to speak. “Listen, Gronk. We’re all here to just enjoy ourselves and enjoy a good meal. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be eating some of Archis’ potatoes right now than being involved in this little altercation.” Her voice remained calm in spite of the obvious physical treat.

Gronk sneered at the smaller woman and his left hand reached for the axe on his side. Rhema lifted her index finger to her temple and Gronk immediately dropped to his knees well before he could securely reach his weapon. As Rhema focused in on Gronk, the half-orc man cried out after being brought to his knees. “Stop, lady! Gronk just want have fun with lady. Gronk not really hurt lady.”

Rhema smiled. “I thought you would see it my way,” she said as she removed her finger from her temple. “Now stand up like the good fighter than you are. Turn around and sit down onto the stool. Enjoy those potatoes and that ale of yours. Most importantly, forget that this ever happened.”

Gronk wordlessly obeyed Rhema’s commands, appearing as if he feared another one of the woman’s silent attacks. Rhema reached out a welcoming hand to Semeion and said, “Hey, why don’t you come over here and join my friend and myself. You can sit with us and tell us a little bit about yourself.”

Semeion returned Rhema’s smile and replied, “You know, I think I’d like that. This is my first time being in here, if you couldn’t tell.”

Rhema closed her fingers around Semeion’s hand and led him back to the table. “Really,” she replied as though she hadn’t considered the fact that Semeion appeared out of his normal routine, “I would have never noticed myself.”

As Semeion approached the table, Ischarus got a better look at the young mage and smiled as he approached. “Welcome, friend.” He added, forgetting that Rhema’s fork was still in his hand.

“Hey!” interjected Rhema. “You were eating my potatoes while I was helping this poor lad try and find a place to sit. I can’t believe you are that kind of an opportunist.” Rhema’s speech took on a slightly fake wounded tone as she winked at Semeion.

Ischarus rose up out of his seat and reached across the table to put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright; I’ll go get another plate for our guest, here. I’m sure that he might enjoy the food and I bet he’d be willing to share. You know, unlike some people I know. Besides, I think that I owe him a plate of potatoes.” Ischarus played with Rhema's mind as his eyes danced in a slight eye roll.

Rhema only laughed in return. “You do that, you noble man. Go get food for your guest and when you come back perhaps he will grace us with his tale.” She turned and looked into Semeion’s eyes.

Ischarus returned quickly with a plate of potatoes and a glass of water with lime in it. Semeion readily accepted the plate of potatoes and chuckled to himself when he received the glass of water with lime. The chuckle inspired Ischarus to inquire about the response from Semeion. “Inside joke you’d care to let us in on?” Ischarus added a friendly smile as he inquired of Semeion’s chuckle.

Semeion shook his head from side to side as he stuffed a potato into his mouth. “No, no secret, really. Just something someone I knew used to say to me. He would always advise against me getting ale to drink. He said it was a bad combination with being able to think straight and maintain control.”

Ischarus replied with a wink to Rhema. “Sound advice if you ask me. I know my friend here won’t let me touch the stuff either.” Ischarus left a wink for Rhema; Rhema merely rolled her eyes at the gesture and the remark.

Rhema replied, “Don’t let Ischarus kid you. He wouldn’t touch the stuff even if you put it right in front of him. He doesn’t care for the taste if you ask me. But if you ask him it is a control issue. He doesn’t like to carry a sword that’s able to separate a person’s head from their shoulders and not be in control of his decision making at all times.”

Semeion looked to Ischarus and then quickly back to the potatoes. Lifting the glass of water with the lime in it he adds, “Yeah. Sounds a lot like my master’s advice.” Semeion’s tone took on a sorrowful tone with this last expression.

Rhema picked up on the tone and continued, “I’m Rhema, by the way. Good to meet you. If you don’t mind me asking I noticed a bit of hurt in that tone of yours when you talk about your master. You mind if I ask why?”

Semeion chocked back the emotion as he tried to relay the story of his master’s tragic demise. As part of the story, Semeion told about how he came back into town, almost caused an accident, and visited his master’s widow just before coming to the Cachinnating Roadhouse. A sheepish grin crossed over Ischarus’ face as Semeion talked. After telling the story Semeion looked at Ischarus and could feel his inner turmoil being eased merely by telling the story. Inquiring of the sheepish grin Semeion asked, “What’s so funny?”

Semeion couldn’t help but laugh a little bit over Ischarus’ silly grin. His body relished the brief opportunity to laugh after the last two days of pain. Ischarus replied, “Well, I thought when I first saw you that I owed you a plate of potatoes.”

Semeion looked to Ischarus and laughed a couple more times and replied, “What do you mean?” Rhema seconded Semeion’s inquiry with an inquisitive look of her own.

“Well,” continued Ischarus while looking to Rhema. “Remember when I returned to the stables and said I was delayed on my trip home because I nearly was run over by a carriage and in the process of steering Elistra away I nearly ran over a cloaked person? Well, I believe our cloaked person has found me in return!”

Semeion couldn’t believe his ears. He looked down to his plate of potatoes in sheer embarrassment. Ischarus and Rhema both noticed his body language and Rhema replied, “Hey, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

Ischarus added, “Indeed. If anyone should be embarrassed it should be me for nearly running Elistra into you!”

Semeion looked up and shook his head. “You two are amazing. I embarrass myself in front of each of you and you make a point to make me feel better.” A slight smile returned to his face as he spoke.

Rhema reached out with her delicate fingers and lifted his chin so that she looked straight into his eyes. “Now you listen to me, Semeion. You’ve nothing to apologize for. You’ve lost your master and had a lot on your mind. I’m actually impressed with your behavior and think it has been incredibly mature. In all actuality, I think your master was right in that you were ready to strike out on your own.”

Her confidence seemed to stream from her eyes as well as through her touch and into his body. “Thanks,” was all that Semeion could muster.

Ischarus grinned with a bright idea. “In fact, if you’ve got nothing else to fill your time, I think we could use a person of your type on our quests. We could use a person with your talents. You know how to ride well?”

Semeion replied, “Well, I do know how to ride but it’s been a while. Unfortunately I don’t have a horse of my own. But I might be interested in finding something new to occupy my time. What is it that you guys do with your time?”

Rhema smiled and turned to Ischarus and replied, “I’ll let you handle this.”

Ischarus looked into Semeion’s eyes and added with a straight face. “We traffic women across the border out of Quehalost and into Tongra.”

Semeion responded in complete surprise. “You go into Quehalost? By yourselves?” After a few moments Semeion’s expression turned to utter confusion and he added, “You traffic women?”

Rhema burst out into laughter and Ischarus began to chuckle as well. “Technically we traffic women, children, and men across the border. We don’t really care about age or gender. You see, there are many people trapped within that evil land that simply do not know anything but pain, torture, abuse, and physical labor through slavery. It’s my job to go in and bring people out into freedom. I’ve been doing it for about two years now. Rhema here has been my assistant for almost all of that time.”

Rhema interjected, “Yeah, my dad operated one of the safe houses that Ischarus brought his freed passengers to. My dad helps them learn a new culture and find employment so that they can stand on their own feet. When Ischarus brought his first rescue back it was a beautiful red haired Drakontos girl who was to be a sacrifice to the ancient wyrm that they served. It took a long time to break her of her belief that she could be anything but a sacrifice so that the dragon wouldn’t destroy their village. It took several months, but my dad and I did it. I learned that I have a real passion for dealing with people – in more ways than one. I like helping people and building them up. So when Ischarus returned a second time with two men that he had saved I volunteered to join him. He knew about my gifts and admitted that while I was a bit on the frail side that my silver tongue would really make his work easier. Since then we’ve been partners. He swore to my father to protect me, but I end up saving more often than not.”

Ischarus looked at Rhema with a look that spoke more than simple appreciation while she told her story. After a few seconds he realized Rhema stopped talking and he brought himself back into reality. He picked up the conversation where Rhema had left off. “Ah, yeah. You’ll notice that I didn’t bother getting up to protect her from that half-orc over there. Rhema doesn’t look like much, but if she can get into your mind before you can draw a weapon she’ll win every time. She didn’t need my protection, though I’d have generously offered it.”

Semeion looked at Ischarus and then back to Rhema. “You guys are serious? You venture into Quehalost regularly and return alive? Wow, that’s amazing. And to think of putting your talents to good use like that. I think I could definitely be interested in helping you all out. If you’ll have me, that is. Well, I’d at least like to go along once and see what happens.”

Ischarus put his hand on Semeion’s shoulder. “Well, Rhema and I were going to head out of town for Quehalost tomorrow morning. I think we could afford to stay in town for another day to let you think things through and give you a chance to think about it. We’d need to find you a horse, but that wouldn’t be much trouble. You got any money, Semeion?”

“I have a little. Probably not enough to buy a horse, though. But I can pay my own nights and meals and stuff.” Semeion’s excited tone illustrated that he began to think highly of this possibility. He longed to set his life in a new direction given that his life in Reignsburg had just lost momentum. This would be a new direction and a chance to do something good in his life. This would be a way to make Master Sathwright’s death have meaning. Semeion made up his mind. He would ride with them if he could find a horse.

“I’ll … uh. I’ll think about it.” Semeion said with a smile on his face. “Can I meet you here for lunch tomorrow and let you know for sure?”

Rhema let out a little squeal of delight. Ischarus rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Lunch will be fine. Just in case I’ll talk to the stable master where we board Elistra and Shauvry and see if he knows of a few horses we might go look at come tomorrow afternoon. You know, of course, if you’re still interested.”

Semeion said, “Yeah. I think that should work. I’ll let you know tomorrow then.” A broad smile crossed his face as he finished the last of his potatoes. He looked down as his fork scraped across the metal plate. “Oh. It looks like I didn’t leave any to share,” Semeion confided.

Rhema laughed. “That’s all right. I’m sure you can pay us back sometime.” Rhema winked at Semeion and leaned back in her chair with a contented look upon her face. The three sat around the table for another hour talking about the past adventures of Rhema and Ischarus before returning to their homes for the night.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (May 10, 2006)

Three days later, three cloaked riders left the city of Reignsburg behind them and headed south for the mountains that separated the region of Tongra from the region of Quehalost.  It had taken them a bit longer than Ischarus thought to find a horse that was suitable for Semeion to ride into hostile territory.  The majority of the difficulty was in Semeion’s ability to pay for a horse that would be a reliable means of escape.  Ischarus was very clear that Semeion needed to ride a stable yet reasonably quick horse because of the speed of the pursuit once the freedom of an enslaved person or persons had been achieved.  

Semeion had begun to question his ability to help the team be successful when Ischarus told him the story of how the red haired girl had been saved from the ancient red wyrm.  Ischarus had no problems confessing that while he was frozen in fear of the beast’s tremendous pursuit it was actually Elistra’s instincts that saved them.  Elistra wasn’t unable to out run the beast, but she was able to run through deep cover that forced the dragon to proceed on foot and lose the trail.  Semeion had more than once grow ill at the thought of putting his life in such peril.

Of course, in order to purchase the horse Semeion had to sell many of his personal belongings.  He sold everything but the clothes on his back and what few arcane gifts Master Sathwright had instructed him to be necessary for the pursuit of his magical talents.  As Semeion rode away from the only hometown he could remember having he bowed his head in reflection and a silent goodbye.

Rhema slowly pulled Shauvry over beside Semeion and Thana, his new mount.  “Don’t worry, Semeion.  Ischarus and I always stop and spend a night in Reignsburg before heading out into Quehalost.  In fact, we always spend a night when we return from Quehalost as well.  Archis’ potatoes have become our traditional welcome home and going away dinners.  You’ll be back.”  Her genuine smile helped to embrace Semeion in the warmth of her words.

Semeion returned the smile in appreciation of the words.  He had already grown accustomed to Rhema’s sensitivities and realized that while her compassion could be interpreted as interest in forming a relationship it really was her gift in touching people’s souls.  Her compassion was not self-motivated but motivated honestly for the betterment of others.

All these thoughts passed through his mind as he replied to Rhema.  “I’m not so much worried about coming back as I am seeing Channah, my master’s widow.  She’s alone with the children now and I fear that she might not be able to support herself.  I’ll regret not being around to check in on her.”

Ischarus replied, “Well, it is not uncommon for us to find equipment and gems as we attempt to stop evil from doing its work.  Often some of the best ways to ensure that you aren’t pursued is to remove their weapons so that they can’t effectively come after you.  Or, in the case of a slaver the best way to keep a slaver from coming after you is to plunder his accessible wealth.  If he doesn’t have the money to pay his hired goons he can’t well send them after you.  The great thing about hired goons is that they won’t work if you can’t pay them.”  Ischarus chuckled and smiled as he remembered several of his past trips.

Semeion added, “But doesn’t that make them want to hunt you down even more?”

Rhema laughed.  “Very true, it does.  But that is why we take a little time off at my family’s home.  First of all, in the journey home the ones that we rescue become quite dependant upon us.  It wouldn’t be fair to them if we rescued them and then handed them off to complete strangers while knowing nothing of the world around them.  We welcome them into our lives and treat them like family.”

She paused for a breath and Ischarus took up the story where Rhema left off.  “But what Rhema is trying to say through focusing on the empathic side of the story is that the time we spend at Rhema’s father’s house helping the rescued to find a new life gives our trail some time to cool down.  Sure, I expect that one day we’ll run across someone who is still looking for us.  But for the most part if we can get a day or two head-start over our pursuers then we can be into Tongra before they even get a whiff of our trail.  Once we are in Tongra their power diminishes vastly and they are much more unlikely to be able to find us.  That’s why we plunder.  It weakens their ability to find us in the short term in spite of increasing their long term anger.  Besides, it also serves to weaken their ability to quickly find a replacement for the one we rescued.  It isn’t perfect, but it’s worked so far.”

Semeion added, “But doesn’t that feel like stealing?  Do the ends justify the means?”

Rhema began her reply softly and delicately.  “Wait to ask that question when you head back into Quehalost for your second journey.  Learn with your own eyes the torture and the pain that we are freeing these people from.  Once you see what we’ve already seen many times over; then ask if it is wrong to plunder from people who use their resources for the destruction of the lives of others.”  By the end of her statement Rhema’s words were strong and filled with vindication and authority.

Ischarus agreed, “Yes, you are correct Semeion.  Technically that does make us thieves.  We steal from the rich who enslave and abuse others.  But part of what we steal goes to replenish our own supplies and the remainder of it is left with Rhema’s father to help the ones that we rescued to build a new life.  It isn’t right to steal.  Of course not.  But it isn’t right to let the people exist in slavery, bondage, or even to be sacrifices either.  Sometimes in life it is not a matter of choosing between right and wrong.  Sometimes life is about choosing which wrong will let you sleep at night.”

Semeion was silenced by Ischarus’ corrective tone.  Rhema perceived that Ischarus had come down harshly and chose to respond to Ischarus’ assertion softly enough so that only Semeion could hear.  “Forgive him, Semeion.  We have had this debate many times he and I.  Ischarus has it every time we plunder our victim before stealing their slave, sacrifice, or whatever.  He doesn’t like the thought of himself as a not-so-common thief.  But he knows that if we do not hinder their abilities they will only replace the ones we take from them.  Then what have we gained?”

Semeion nodded in reply.  “I suppose life is a difficult choice sometimes, and one cannot always only do things that are clearly right in the world.  I guess that sometimes to live means to tread on doing something another thinks of as evil in order that we may see good.”

Rhema smiled and nodded.  A little more loudly she added, “Now you know what it means to live in dichotomy.  One cannot be perfect.  But one can strive for good.”

Ischarus continued in his more somber tone.  “And one cannot forget that doing harm to another so good may abound is not justification of the harm.  It may be a necessary evil but that does not make it right.  It is never right to steal.  It may be necessary, but it is never right.”

Rhema lightly prodded the side of Shauvry to get her to hustle past Elistra and Ischarus.  “No,” she called to Ischarus as she rode by.  “But not having fun in life will get you nowhere either!”  She surged ahead of the other two and yelled, “C’mon, Semeion.  See if you can catch me!  Ischarus never can!”

Both Semeion and Ischarus stood slightly in their saddles and encouraged their mounts to chase after Rhema and Shauvry.  The horses seemed to enjoy the challenge in the change of pace and their nostrils flared to take in the necessary oxygen to maintain the greatly quickened speed of travel.  Thana pulled ahead of Elistra since Thana could carry Semeion much more easily than Elistra could carry the larger Ischarus.  Neither of the horses was able to catch Shauvry, however.  Before long the three horses were spread out by several lengths and galloping down the dirt road that lead to Scarhaus and eventually the Tongra-Quehalost border.

As Shauvry carried Rhema further down the road suddenly Ischarus and Semeion saw Rhema fall from the saddle to the left of Shauvry.  From its detailed training Shauvry slowed immediately upon feeling Rhema’s weight fall off of her back.  Rhema had managed to hold onto the reigns and as she collided with the ground the reigns jerked Shauvry’s head to the left.  Shauvry stopped as quickly as she could and Rhema lay still at her side, a crossbow bolt sticking out of her side.

Semeion spurred Thana closer to Rhema and just before he arrived he saw a sword wielding hobgoblin surge out of the forest beside Rhema.  Semeion called upon the arcane power within him and yelled, “Thin-tok!”  His right hand let go of the reigns and Semeion rose slightly higher in the saddle as he cocked his hand behind him.  As the arcane words left his lips he brought is arm forward as if to throw a ball.  A silver shimmering ball leapt forward off of his fingers and flashed towards the armed hobgoblin.  The energy ball struck the hobgoblin and caught him off-guard.  Semeion yelled, “Stay away from her or you’ll feel more than that, goblinkin.”

The hobgoblin snorted and replied with a maniacal chuckle, “You’ll not hurt me because I will kill you first.”  Semeion pulled up on the reigns and Thana stopped just out of the hobgoblin’s reach with its sword.

Elistra thundered hard as her hooves pounded the ground in response to Ischarus’ further urging.  The horse approached so quickly that it caught the sword wielding hobgoblin completely off-guard.  Ischarus flashed his sword and a metallic ring shot through the forest as Ischarus lined up his aim.  With a single swing the sword sliced through the air and contacted the hobgoblin creature on the side of its head directly below his jaw.  Semeion closed his eyes as he saw the gruesome strike coming.  The blow knocked the hobgoblin to the ground and his head bounced hard off the ground following the strike.  The hobgoblin opened his eyes and saw Ischarus turning Elistra around as he held a bloodless long sword into the air.  Both Semeion and the hobgoblin could tell he was yelling something.

Semeion was able to focus on Ischarus’ words.  “Find the other one back where Rhema was shot!  He’s got a crossbow and can merely pick us off at will if we don’t find him quickly!”  Ischarus yelled to Semeion and pointed toward the forest edge with the tip of his sword.

Semeion pulled the reigns hard to the right and Thana spun in a tight circle until she was facing the opposite direction.  Semeion urged Thana into a slow walk forward, scanning the edges of the forest.  Suddenly he heard a string twang and felt pain in his own side.  Looking down at his side he saw the bolt sticking out of his body.  He followed the path of the crossbow bolt back into the woods and he spied a hobgoblin hurriedly trying to crank the winch of its weapon and load another bolt.  Before the hobgoblin could finish cranking the device Semeion yelled, “Silicut al-Whass” and a single drop of magical oil formed on his the nail of his index finger.  Semeion flicked the oil towards the hobgoblin and as it flew through the air the drop increased in size and struck the crossbow.  Immediately the winch and the bow were coated in oil and impossible to hold and move.

Seeing that his magical attack was successful Semeion yelled to his associate.  “Ischarus, here!  I’ve made the crossbow useless, though.  Come quickly!” 

The hobgoblin heard the yell and immediately dropped the useless crossbow.  It turned and began to flee deeper into the forest.  As it fled hurriedly it left both a physical and an audible trail in its wake.  Neither Ischarus nor Semeion would have trouble following the loud fleeing hobgoblin.

Semeion turned to find Ischarus as the young mage dismounted to give chase.  Ischarus had already dismounted and was standing over the hobgoblin’s body which was lying in the street.  Ischarus had a length of rope in his hands and as Semeion called for him he turned and began running in the direction Semeion pointed.  As Ischarus passed by he threw the rope at Semeion and yelled, “Here, use this on the one that’s already down!  And watch out for a further ambush!”

Semeion looked confused as he watched Ischarus disappear after the hobgoblin.  “But … isn’t he dead?”  Semeion asked in vain.  Turning his head to look at the hobgoblin body lying on the road he realized that the hobgoblin’s head was still quite securely attached to its body.  The hobgoblin lay motionlessly on the road. Semeion ran to the body and quickly flipped the hobgoblin over onto his stomach and secured its hands behind its back.

Inside the forest, Ischarus made short work of catching up to the scrambling hobgoblin.  Much of the magical oil had transferred from the crossbow and onto the hobgoblin’s hands.  The oil made it impossible to grab onto anything or climb as the hobgoblin fled.  As a result, Ischarus was able to catch up to the hobgoblin quickly.  As he did, the hobgoblin turned and drew its rapier.  Only then did Ischarus recognize that this hobgoblin was female.  Her hand slipped off the end of the rapier as the magical oil prevented her fingers from solidly gripping the handle.

Ischarus chuckled as he drew his own sword and pointed it toward the hobgoblin.  “We can do this the hard way or the easy way, goblinkin.  You’re coming with me either way.”

The hobgoblin only snorted in reply and had a moment of brilliance.  The female jumped towards Ischarus with the thought of grabbing the handle of the sword.  Perhaps if she was lucky the magical oil would transfer to his hands as well.  

Ischarus lowered his sword and beat down upon her outstretched arm with the flat of his sword, snapping at least one of the thin bones that resided within the hobgoblin’s arm.  Ischarus turned his sword and slashed out against the hobgoblin.  The blade sliced at the creature’s leather armor and punctured it.  A small trickle of blood formed within the cut as Ischarus remove his sword.

The hobgoblin once more lashed out in an attempt to grab the sword in Ischarus’ hand, but her off-handed attempt to grab the weapon could not land a solid grip.

Ischarus spun around once more and lashed out with his sword.  The blade slashed forward and caught the hobgoblin on the outside of her thigh.  She stumbled to the ground and Ischarus rose to his feet and pointed the blade down upon the hobgoblin’s chest. 
Ischarus spoke once more, slightly winded from the surge of action since the last time he spoke.  “Again we have a choice.  If you move you impale yourself on my sword.  If you give yourself up and go back to the road you can live.  You can do it the hard way or the easy way.”

The female hobgoblin closed her eyes and said, “You win.  I give up.”

Ischarus released the grip on his sword with his left hand and reached down to pick up the hobgoblin’s dagger.  He tucked the dagger under his own belt and then removed his long sword from the hobgoblin’s chest.  “Get up slowly,” Ischarus growled.  “If you make any sudden moves I’ll make sure you end up on the ground again.”

The hobgoblin nodded and conceded control of the situation in compliance with Ischarus’ demand.  She slowly raised herself up to a walking position and marched to the road.  Ischarus retrieved the hobgoblin’s crossbow as they passed by, noting that the magical oil had vanished.  There was no indication that the oil had ever been upon the weapon.

Arriving out at the road, Ischarus saw that the first hobgoblin was restrained and still unconscious.  On the other hand, Rhema was sitting up and being tended to by Semeion.  She smiled as Ischarus emerged from the forest with a hobgoblin captive.  “There’s my man!” she called out.  “He always gets what he sets his mind on capturing.”  Semeion turned and smiled at Ischarus and his successful capture.

Ischarus caught Semeion’s eyes with his own glance and said, “In my saddle bag you’ll find more ropes for binding wrists.  Pull one out and bind this one while I keep the sword on her.”

Semeion nodded while Rhema replied in a tease, “Oh, I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

Ischarus turned to Rhema and smiled.  “Of that I had no doubt.  You’d never allow yourself to leave this world on an ambush.  You’ll leave this world by taking on a challenge more than you can control and not realize it until its too late.”  He chuckled and Rhema smiled at the comment.

Semeion retrieved the rope and made quick work of binding the hands of the captive hobgoblin.  Once they were both secure Ischarus helped Rhema up onto her feet and even into her saddle.  “You’re going to get sore by the look of that.  You might as well get comfortable before the pain sets in.  If we need to, we’ll get it looked at in Scarhaus before moving along.”

Rhema replied, “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”  She smiled, but her usual pleasant smile vanished in a grimace of pain.

Ischarus lightly patted Rhema on the leg as he crossed under Shauvry’s neck.  “I’m sure you will be fine, Rhema.”  He rummaged through his saddle pack and lifted out a small pouch.  He knelt down to the ground and held the pouch underneath the hobgoblin’s nose.  After a few moments the eyes of the hobgoblin opened wide and he reeled his head backwards away from the smell of the pouch.  Pleased that the pouch had been useful, Ischarus sealed the pouch up once more and placed it back into his saddlebag.

Ischarus greeted the hobgoblin back to the realm of the conscious with a simple command.  “You’ll need to stand, hobgoblin.”

The hobgoblin replied, “I’ll do no such thing.  Chimme will set me free.”

The hobgoblin that originally shot Rhema with her crossbow spoke from where she stood.  “No, Grangohr.  I will not.”

Grangohr turned his head and saw that his partner in crime had likewise been caught.  He frowned slightly and begrudgingly stood to his feet and allowed Ischarus to connect his bindings to a longer rope that he tied to his own saddle horn.  Once he was assured that the hobgoblins were secured he said to Semeion, “You will ride side-by-side with Rhema behind me and our prisoners to make sure they keep up their march and don’t try anything stupid.”

Semeion nodded, finding it easier to take Ischarus’ orders in a situation of combat.  He watched as Ischarus removed the dagger from his belt and held it out for Semeion to grab.  “As a sign of good faith to your master’s widow I designate the hobgoblin’s sword, dagger, crossbow, and their armor to be sold for the benefit of the widow.  That should give her enough money to provide food for her and her children for several months.  If you don’t object, I’d like to make that part of our routine.  Your responsibilities will become our responsibilities as long as you travel with us.”

Semeion smiled at the gesture.  “I am honored, Ischarus.”

Ischarus looked at the hobgoblins, checked out their bonds, and then back to Semeion.  As he mounted Elistra and urged her forward at a walking pace comfortable for the hobgoblins he turned sideways in his saddle and replied back to Semeion.  “You’ll need it.  We all will.  It’ll be one more good thing that will let us sleep knowing the horrors we will see in Quehalost.  We now journey for the freedom of the innocents in Quehalost and for the widow Sathwright.”

The rest of the trip to Scarhaus passed in a more solemn tone as the horsemen kept watch for more bandits along the road.  They passed along the route more slowly than normal on account of their captives.  The party kept up the journey to Scarhaus well after the sun descended into the hills.  Around midnight they saw the welcoming torches than lined a few of the streets.

Upon seeing the torches Ischarus scanned the scene of lights.  He smiled as he found what he was looking for.  “Someone is awake in the inn, Rhema.” He paused to allow a smile to appear over his face.  “They’ll be able to raise the jailor this evening.”

Semeion looked on with interest.  He knew this was the last safe place of rest before the border of Quehalost.


[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Three days later, three cloaked riders left the city of Reignsburg behind them and headed south for the mountains that separated the region of Tongra from the region of Quehalost. It had taken them a bit longer than Ischarus thought to find a horse that was suitable for Semeion to ride into hostile territory. The majority of the difficulty was in Semeion’s ability to pay for a horse that would be a reliable means of escape. Ischarus was very clear that Semeion needed to ride a stable yet reasonably quick horse because of the speed of the pursuit once the freedom of an enslaved person or persons had been achieved. 

Semeion had begun to question his ability to help the team be successful when Ischarus told him the story of how the red haired girl had been saved from the ancient red wyrm. Ischarus had no problems confessing that while he was frozen in fear of the beast’s tremendous pursuit it was actually Elistra’s instincts that saved them. Elistra wasn’t unable to out run the beast, but she was able to run through deep cover that forced the dragon to proceed on foot and lose the trail. Semeion had more than once grow ill at the thought of putting his life in such peril.

Of course, in order to purchase the horse Semeion had to sell many of his personal belongings. He sold everything but the clothes on his back and what few arcane gifts Master Sathwright had instructed him to be necessary for the pursuit of his magical talents. As Semeion rode away from the only hometown he could remember having he bowed his head in reflection and a silent goodbye.

Rhema slowly pulled Shauvry over beside Semeion and Thana, his new mount. “Don’t worry, Semeion. Ischarus and I always stop and spend a night in Reignsburg before heading out into Quehalost. In fact, we always spend a night when we return from Quehalost as well. Archis’ potatoes have become our traditional welcome home and going away dinners. You’ll be back.” Her genuine smile helped to embrace Semeion in the warmth of her words.

Semeion returned the smile in appreciation of the words. He had already grown accustomed to Rhema’s sensitivities and realized that while her compassion could be interpreted as interest in forming a relationship it really was her gift in touching people’s souls. Her compassion was not self-motivated but motivated honestly for the betterment of others.

All these thoughts passed through his mind as he replied to Rhema. “I’m not so much worried about coming back as I am seeing Channah, my master’s widow. She’s alone with the children now and I fear that she might not be able to support herself. I’ll regret not being around to check in on her.”

Ischarus replied, “Well, it is not uncommon for us to find equipment and gems as we attempt to stop evil from doing its work. Often some of the best ways to ensure that you aren’t pursued is to remove their weapons so that they can’t effectively come after you. Or, in the case of a slaver the best way to keep a slaver from coming after you is to plunder his accessible wealth. If he doesn’t have the money to pay his hired goons he can’t well send them after you. The great thing about hired goons is that they won’t work if you can’t pay them.” Ischarus chuckled and smiled as he remembered several of his past trips.

Semeion added, “But doesn’t that make them want to hunt you down even more?”

Rhema laughed. “Very true, it does. But that is why we take a little time off at my family’s home. First of all, in the journey home the ones that we rescue become quite dependant upon us. It wouldn’t be fair to them if we rescued them and then handed them off to complete strangers while knowing nothing of the world around them. We welcome them into our lives and treat them like family.”

She paused for a breath and Ischarus took up the story where Rhema left off. “But what Rhema is trying to say through focusing on the empathic side of the story is that the time we spend at Rhema’s father’s house helping the rescued to find a new life gives our trail some time to cool down. Sure, I expect that one day we’ll run across someone who is still looking for us. But for the most part if we can get a day or two head-start over our pursuers then we can be into Tongra before they even get a whiff of our trail. Once we are in Tongra their power diminishes vastly and they are much more unlikely to be able to find us. That’s why we plunder. It weakens their ability to find us in the short term in spite of increasing their long term anger. Besides, it also serves to weaken their ability to quickly find a replacement for the one we rescued. It isn’t perfect, but it’s worked so far.”

Semeion added, “But doesn’t that feel like stealing? Do the ends justify the means?”

Rhema began her reply softly and delicately. “Wait to ask that question when you head back into Quehalost for your second journey. Learn with your own eyes the torture and the pain that we are freeing these people from. Once you see what we’ve already seen many times over; then ask if it is wrong to plunder from people who use their resources for the destruction of the lives of others.” By the end of her statement Rhema’s words were strong and filled with vindication and authority.

Ischarus agreed, “Yes, you are correct Semeion. Technically that does make us thieves. We steal from the rich who enslave and abuse others. But part of what we steal goes to replenish our own supplies and the remainder of it is left with Rhema’s father to help the ones that we rescued to build a new life. It isn’t right to steal. Of course not. But it isn’t right to let the people exist in slavery, bondage, or even to be sacrifices either. Sometimes in life it is not a matter of choosing between right and wrong. Sometimes life is about choosing which wrong will let you sleep at night.”

Semeion was silenced by Ischarus’ corrective tone. Rhema perceived that Ischarus had come down harshly and chose to respond to Ischarus’ assertion softly enough so that only Semeion could hear. “Forgive him, Semeion. We have had this debate many times he and I. Ischarus has it every time we plunder our victim before stealing their slave, sacrifice, or whatever. He doesn’t like the thought of himself as a not-so-common thief. But he knows that if we do not hinder their abilities they will only replace the ones we take from them. Then what have we gained?”

Semeion nodded in reply. “I suppose life is a difficult choice sometimes, and one cannot always only do things that are clearly right in the world. I guess that sometimes to live means to tread on doing something another thinks of as evil in order that we may see good.”

Rhema smiled and nodded. A little more loudly she added, “Now you know what it means to live in dichotomy. One cannot be perfect. But one can strive for good.”

Ischarus continued in his more somber tone. “And one cannot forget that doing harm to another so good may abound is not justification of the harm. It may be a necessary evil but that does not make it right. It is never right to steal. It may be necessary, but it is never right.”

Rhema lightly prodded the side of Shauvry to get her to hustle past Elistra and Ischarus. “No,” she called to Ischarus as she rode by. “But not having fun in life will get you nowhere either!” She surged ahead of the other two and yelled, “C’mon, Semeion. See if you can catch me! Ischarus never can!”

Both Semeion and Ischarus stood slightly in their saddles and encouraged their mounts to chase after Rhema and Shauvry. The horses seemed to enjoy the challenge in the change of pace and their nostrils flared to take in the necessary oxygen to maintain the greatly quickened speed of travel. Thana pulled ahead of Elistra since Thana could carry Semeion much more easily than Elistra could carry the larger Ischarus. Neither of the horses was able to catch Shauvry, however. Before long the three horses were spread out by several lengths and galloping down the dirt road that lead to Scarhaus and eventually the Tongra-Quehalost border.

As Shauvry carried Rhema further down the road suddenly Ischarus and Semeion saw Rhema fall from the saddle to the left of Shauvry. From its detailed training Shauvry slowed immediately upon feeling Rhema’s weight fall off of her back. Rhema had managed to hold onto the reigns and as she collided with the ground the reigns jerked Shauvry’s head to the left. Shauvry stopped as quickly as she could and Rhema lay still at her side, a crossbow bolt sticking out of her side.

Semeion spurred Thana closer to Rhema and just before he arrived he saw a sword wielding hobgoblin surge out of the forest beside Rhema. Semeion called upon the arcane power within him and yelled, “Thin-tok!” His right hand let go of the reigns and Semeion rose slightly higher in the saddle as he cocked his hand behind him. As the arcane words left his lips he brought is arm forward as if to throw a ball. A silver shimmering ball leapt forward off of his fingers and flashed towards the armed hobgoblin. The energy ball struck the hobgoblin and caught him off-guard. Semeion yelled, “Stay away from her or you’ll feel more than that, goblinkin.”

The hobgoblin snorted and replied with a maniacal chuckle, “You’ll not hurt me because I will kill you first.” Semeion pulled up on the reigns and Thana stopped just out of the hobgoblin’s reach with its sword.

Elistra thundered hard as her hooves pounded the ground in response to Ischarus’ further urging. The horse approached so quickly that it caught the sword wielding hobgoblin completely off-guard. Ischarus flashed his sword and a metallic ring shot through the forest as Ischarus lined up his aim. With a single swing the sword sliced through the air and contacted the hobgoblin creature on the side of its head directly below his jaw. Semeion closed his eyes as he saw the gruesome strike coming. The blow knocked the hobgoblin to the ground and his head bounced hard off the ground following the strike. The hobgoblin opened his eyes and saw Ischarus turning Elistra around as he held a bloodless long sword into the air. Both Semeion and the hobgoblin could tell he was yelling something.

Semeion was able to focus on Ischarus’ words. “Find the other one back where Rhema was shot! He’s got a crossbow and can merely pick us off at will if we don’t find him quickly!” Ischarus yelled to Semeion and pointed toward the forest edge with the tip of his sword.

Semeion pulled the reigns hard to the right and Thana spun in a tight circle until she was facing the opposite direction. Semeion urged Thana into a slow walk forward, scanning the edges of the forest. Suddenly he heard a string twang and felt pain in his own side. Looking down at his side he saw the bolt sticking out of his body. He followed the path of the crossbow bolt back into the woods and he spied a hobgoblin hurriedly trying to crank the winch of its weapon and load another bolt. Before the hobgoblin could finish cranking the device Semeion yelled, “Silicut al-Whass” and a single drop of magical oil formed on his the nail of his index finger. Semeion flicked the oil towards the hobgoblin and as it flew through the air the drop increased in size and struck the crossbow. Immediately the winch and the bow were coated in oil and impossible to hold and move.

Seeing that his magical attack was successful Semeion yelled to his associate. “Ischarus, here! I’ve made the crossbow useless, though. Come quickly!” 

The hobgoblin heard the yell and immediately dropped the useless crossbow. It turned and began to flee deeper into the forest. As it fled hurriedly it left both a physical and an audible trail in its wake. Neither Ischarus nor Semeion would have trouble following the loud fleeing hobgoblin.

Semeion turned to find Ischarus as the young mage dismounted to give chase. Ischarus had already dismounted and was standing over the hobgoblin’s body which was lying in the street. Ischarus had a length of rope in his hands and as Semeion called for him he turned and began running in the direction Semeion pointed. As Ischarus passed by he threw the rope at Semeion and yelled, “Here, use this on the one that’s already down! And watch out for a further ambush!”

Semeion looked confused as he watched Ischarus disappear after the hobgoblin. “But … isn’t he dead?” Semeion asked in vain. Turning his head to look at the hobgoblin body lying on the road he realized that the hobgoblin’s head was still quite securely attached to its body. The hobgoblin lay motionlessly on the road. Semeion ran to the body and quickly flipped the hobgoblin over onto his stomach and secured its hands behind its back.

Inside the forest, Ischarus made short work of catching up to the scrambling hobgoblin. Much of the magical oil had transferred from the crossbow and onto the hobgoblin’s hands. The oil made it impossible to grab onto anything or climb as the hobgoblin fled. As a result, Ischarus was able to catch up to the hobgoblin quickly. As he did, the hobgoblin turned and drew its rapier. Only then did Ischarus recognize that this hobgoblin was female. Her hand slipped off the end of the rapier as the magical oil prevented her fingers from solidly gripping the handle.

Ischarus chuckled as he drew his own sword and pointed it toward the hobgoblin. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way, goblinkin. You’re coming with me either way.”

The hobgoblin only snorted in reply and had a moment of brilliance. The female jumped towards Ischarus with the thought of grabbing the handle of the sword. Perhaps if she was lucky the magical oil would transfer to his hands as well. 

Ischarus lowered his sword and beat down upon her outstretched arm with the flat of his sword, snapping at least one of the thin bones that resided within the hobgoblin’s arm. Ischarus turned his sword and slashed out against the hobgoblin. The blade sliced at the creature’s leather armor and punctured it. A small trickle of blood formed within the cut as Ischarus remove his sword.

The hobgoblin once more lashed out in an attempt to grab the sword in Ischarus’ hand, but her off-handed attempt to grab the weapon could not land a solid grip.

Ischarus spun around once more and lashed out with his sword. The blade slashed forward and caught the hobgoblin on the outside of her thigh. She stumbled to the ground and Ischarus rose to his feet and pointed the blade down upon the hobgoblin’s chest. 
Ischarus spoke once more, slightly winded from the surge of action since the last time he spoke. “Again we have a choice. If you move you impale yourself on my sword. If you give yourself up and go back to the road you can live. You can do it the hard way or the easy way.”

The female hobgoblin closed her eyes and said, “You win. I give up.”

Ischarus released the grip on his sword with his left hand and reached down to pick up the hobgoblin’s dagger. He tucked the dagger under his own belt and then removed his long sword from the hobgoblin’s chest. “Get up slowly,” Ischarus growled. “If you make any sudden moves I’ll make sure you end up on the ground again.”

The hobgoblin nodded and conceded control of the situation in compliance with Ischarus’ demand. She slowly raised herself up to a walking position and marched to the road. Ischarus retrieved the hobgoblin’s crossbow as they passed by, noting that the magical oil had vanished. There was no indication that the oil had ever been upon the weapon.

Arriving out at the road, Ischarus saw that the first hobgoblin was restrained and still unconscious. On the other hand, Rhema was sitting up and being tended to by Semeion. She smiled as Ischarus emerged from the forest with a hobgoblin captive. “There’s my man!” she called out. “He always gets what he sets his mind on capturing.” Semeion turned and smiled at Ischarus and his successful capture.

Ischarus caught Semeion’s eyes with his own glance and said, “In my saddle bag you’ll find more ropes for binding wrists. Pull one out and bind this one while I keep the sword on her.”

Semeion nodded while Rhema replied in a tease, “Oh, I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

Ischarus turned to Rhema and smiled. “Of that I had no doubt. You’d never allow yourself to leave this world on an ambush. You’ll leave this world by taking on a challenge more than you can control and not realize it until its too late.” He chuckled and Rhema smiled at the comment.

Semeion retrieved the rope and made quick work of binding the hands of the captive hobgoblin. Once they were both secure Ischarus helped Rhema up onto her feet and even into her saddle. “You’re going to get sore by the look of that. You might as well get comfortable before the pain sets in. If we need to, we’ll get it looked at in Scarhaus before moving along.”

Rhema replied, “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” She smiled, but her usual pleasant smile vanished in a grimace of pain.

Ischarus lightly patted Rhema on the leg as he crossed under Shauvry’s neck. “I’m sure you will be fine, Rhema.” He rummaged through his saddle pack and lifted out a small pouch. He knelt down to the ground and held the pouch underneath the hobgoblin’s nose. After a few moments the eyes of the hobgoblin opened wide and he reeled his head backwards away from the smell of the pouch. Pleased that the pouch had been useful, Ischarus sealed the pouch up once more and placed it back into his saddlebag.

Ischarus greeted the hobgoblin back to the realm of the conscious with a simple command. “You’ll need to stand, hobgoblin.”

The hobgoblin replied, “I’ll do no such thing. Chimme will set me free.”

The hobgoblin that originally shot Rhema with her crossbow spoke from where she stood. “No, Grangohr. I will not.”

Grangohr turned his head and saw that his partner in crime had likewise been caught. He frowned slightly and begrudgingly stood to his feet and allowed Ischarus to connect his bindings to a longer rope that he tied to his own saddle horn. Once he was assured that the hobgoblins were secured he said to Semeion, “You will ride side-by-side with Rhema behind me and our prisoners to make sure they keep up their march and don’t try anything stupid.”

Semeion nodded, finding it easier to take Ischarus’ orders in a situation of combat. He watched as Ischarus removed the dagger from his belt and held it out for Semeion to grab. “As a sign of good faith to your master’s widow I designate the hobgoblin’s sword, dagger, crossbow, and their armor to be sold for the benefit of the widow. That should give her enough money to provide food for her and her children for several months. If you don’t object, I’d like to make that part of our routine. Your responsibilities will become our responsibilities as long as you travel with us.”

Semeion smiled at the gesture. “I am honored, Ischarus.”

Ischarus looked at the hobgoblins, checked out their bonds, and then back to Semeion. As he mounted Elistra and urged her forward at a walking pace comfortable for the hobgoblins he turned sideways in his saddle and replied back to Semeion. “You’ll need it. We all will. It’ll be one more good thing that will let us sleep knowing the horrors we will see in Quehalost. We now journey for the freedom of the innocents in Quehalost and for the widow Sathwright.”

The rest of the trip to Scarhaus passed in a more solemn tone as the horsemen kept watch for more bandits along the road. They passed along the route more slowly than normal on account of their captives. The party kept up the journey to Scarhaus well after the sun descended into the hills. Around midnight they saw the welcoming torches than lined a few of the streets.

Upon seeing the torches Ischarus scanned the scene of lights. He smiled as he found what he was looking for. “Someone is awake in the inn, Rhema.” He paused to allow a smile to appear over his face. “They’ll be able to raise the jailor this evening.”

Semeion looked on with interest. He knew this was the last safe place of rest before the border of Quehalost.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (May 10, 2006)

Ischarus pulled Elistra to a halt just outside the local inn that they were accustomed to staying at before heading into Quehalost.  Rhema and Shauvry pulled up along side of Ischarus and he nodded to Rhema as she pulled up the hood of her cloak.  “Go and tell Rapheus that he’ll need to send out Mardak.  His boy is going to need to raise the jailor.  Tell him we’ve got two highwaymen captured and they’ll need a night’s stay behind bars and a special examination to follow.”

Rhema nodded under the hood of her cloak and stood up in her stirrups.  She swung her right leg over the back of Shauvry and brought her right foot to the ground.  As she did, Ischarus turned to locate Semeion.  He spoke freely this night, and given the hour he felt comfortable giving orders to Semeion.  “Stay back in the street and watch these highwaymen.  After the walk they’ve just finished I doubt they’ve got the energy to escape.  But if anyone comes along this road before the jailor comes it’ll be your job to steer them clear.  We don’t need any trouble from people up late.  We also don’t know the connections these hobgoblins have here in town.”

Not wanting to say too much in his tired condition, Semeion merely smiled.  Ischarus continued his instructions.  “And pull up the hood of your cloak.  This close to Quehalost we cannot be sure about anyone being friend or foe.  They might know us by our cloaks, they might not.  But I guarantee our enemies know us by our faces.”

Semeion’s face turned emotionless at the serious tone taken by Ischarus’ voice.  His hands instinctively rose to his shoulders and slid his hood up and over his head.  The front edge of the hood hung just above the level of his eyes.  He turned Thana in a half circle and faced the direction of the road that they had just come.

Rhema slipped into inn without cracking the door too far.  Only a sliver of light spilled out into the dark night as the thin woman slipped between the door and its frame.  Inside, Rhema saw the familiar small lobby that ended in a desk opposite the door through which she had entered.  Behind the desk stood a man who looked as though to have some elf-blood somewhere back in his heritage.  The man smiled as he saw Rhema, his eyes recognizing the cloak immediately as a long time patron.

“Once more headed back into Quehalost, milady?”

“Aye, Rapheus.  We’ll go in once more and then keep it up until justice has come to that land.  It’s a difficult task to try and accomplish one person at a time, but each time we go in there is once more person free when we leave.”

Rapheus smiled in response to Rhema’s words.  “I’ll get the regular room ready for you then, ma’am.  And you’ll have no worry that I’ll have the other room ready and waiting for your return whenever you show up.”

Rhema replied, “You’re very kind, Rapheus.  But we’ve business to take care of this night before we retire.  Ischarus has caught a few highwaymen along the road.  Hobgoblins, by the look of ‘em.  I don’t think they were working as part of a more organized force – just independents trying to get a few gold coins from a passerby I think.  But if you wouldn’t mind sending Mardak to raise the jailor this late, I’d appreciate it.”

Rapheus’ face paled slightly at the mention of the highwaymen.  “Certainly, milady.”  He turned to the archway that rose behind his desk.  “Mardak!”  He turned back to Rhema as the sound of small feet could be heard scampering above them.  “You were not injured, were you?”

Rhema smiled with an easy expression.  “Nothing to note, but thank you for your concern.”

The sound of footsteps could be heard descending the stairs behind Rapheus.  A young boy of about twelve years of age appeared, his head only barely above the level of the desk where Rapheus stood.  Rapheus smiled at the boy’s quick response and said, “I need you to run to the jailor, Mardak.  You remember Miss Rhema?  She and her friends have caught a few hobgoblins attempting to steal from travelers along the road.  The hobgoblins will need to be put in jail for an examination tomorrow.  Can you go and bring the jailor?”

The boy smiled broadly, happy to do any favor this late at night.  “Sure, papa.  I can run to the jailor and back.  I’ll make sure that the Mr. Jairdaans is awakened and aware of the need before he comes to collect the goblins.”

Rapheus smiled at his boy but corrected him.  “Hobgoblins, Mardak.  There is a difference.”

“I know, papa.  I was just saying that to save some time.”

Mardak turned and ducked under the desk and smiled as he walked past Rhema.  As he passed by the traveling woman, he turned his body so that he could watch her as he went by.  Eventually he was walking backwards toward the door while looking to Rhema.  He misjudged his approach to the door and struck the wall about a foot to the left of the door.  Rhema chuckled as she watched the boy strike the wall and then turn away with an embarrassed expression upon his face.

“I think my boy has a crush on you, milady.”

“I am only flattered by his purity of heart, Rapheus.  The admiration of a child is such a simple thing, but given with such honesty and sincerity.  He is a good boy, you’ve done well to raise him.”

Rapheus nodded in approval of Rhema’s words regarding his boy.  “It’s been hard since Tasha’s death.  But the business keeps him honest and has helped him grow.”

Rhema looked to the side as Rapheus mentioned his deceased wife.  She knew she had died only a few years back and the adjustment was still hard at times.  Tasha had succumbed to an illness that brought on a severe fever and as a result she seemed largely out of her mind for the last day before she died.  Other than the fever, though, Rhema knew that Tasha did not suffer much pain.  

Even after Rapheus finished speaking Rhema continued to look to the wall to the right.  She replied, “You’ll need to meet our new associate, Rapheus.  We picked him up in Reignsburg and I think he’ll be a welcome addition.  He’s currently outside waiting with Ischarus and the horses.”

Rapheus nodded and lifted the part of the desk that Mardak had crawled under.  Once the hinged desktop was lifted on one side it allowed Rapheus to pass from behind the desk into the small lobby where Rhema stood.  He had noticed her discomfort when Tasha had been mentioned and Rapheus placed his hand upon Rhema’s shoulder.  “I know that you still mourn for my wife, Rhema.  Feel free to mourn for her sake, but please do not mourn for me or for Mardak.  We’ve finally begun to move past the pain and into life.  She lived well and taught us many things about happiness.”

Rhema turned her head and caught Rapheus’ gaze.  “I know.  It is still difficult to imagine this place without her, though.  She brought such life to everything that she touched.”

Rapheus smiled broadly.  “Then how about we go out there and meet this new acquaintance of yours.  As usual, I’ll avoid using names in public.  We can wait for the jailor to come outside and then I’ll send Mardak in to show you your rooms while I stable your horses.”  Rapheus motioned with one hand toward the door as he wrapped his other arm around Rhema in a slight hug.  Rhema lingered in his embrace for a second before opening the door and spilling a small amount of light into the street.

Outside, Rhema could just make out the small form of a young boy hurriedly retreating from her two companions.  Ischarus and Semeion had obviously been talking quietly to the curious boy.  It seemed, however, that the boy didn’t want to be caught by his father as he delayed from raising the jailor.  Rhema smiled a bit as she stopped for a moment in the doorway.  “You know …” she began and then stopped.  She paused for another moment until she was sure the boy was out of sight.  “Oh, never mind.  It is nothing that can’t be handled once we are all inside.”

Rhema finished passing through the doorway and quickly stepped out of the light, drawing the hood of her cloak tightly around her face in the darkness of the street.  Rapheus also stepped out onto the street and allowed the door to close tightly.  He nodded at Ischarus and added, “Good to see you again, sir.  We have a room waiting for you and your companions once the jailor arrives.”

Ischarus nodded in reply but said nothing.  A very slight smile could be seen as Rapheus looked in under the hood of Ischarus as best he could.  Rapheus could tell that Ischarus wanted to greet the man much more openly, but the openness of the street and proximity to the border of Quehalost would not be an appropriate place to have such a greeting.  

Rapheus looked to Semeion and nodded in greeting.  Semeion lifted his hand in a simple gesture and lightly uttered a few magical words.  “Par Ah-sahn.”  Semeion lowered his hand to his side and Rapheus looked down to his own hand.  Rapheus felt a slight pressure on his hand as well as the presence of faint warmth.  The pressure and the warmth were as though he had shaken Semeion’s own hand.  As quickly as the effect came, it vanished.  Rapheus looked up to Semeion, but the gray cloaked horseman had turned his horse to allow him to watch the street once more.

After a long five minute wait in silence, Mardak returned in the midst of a brisk jog.  He turned the final corner and smiled as he saw his father standing in the street waiting for him.  As though trained not to make too many noises Mardak approached the small gathering outside the inn before speaking.  Rapheus could tell that Mardak had run hard as he approached; he seemed to have some difficulty catching his breath as he began to speak.  “Papa,” Mardak began with a whisper to his father,  “I have alerted Mr. Jairdaans and he has sent for a jail guard to meet him.  Together they will come and take the highwaymen into custody.”

“That is good, son.  Now go inside and up to bed.” Rapheus answered.  Mardak looked immensely disappointed at his father’s pronouncement.  Rapheus gave Mardak a stern look that demanded obedience.  Mardak started for the door but turned around as his hand reached for the doorknob.

“Papa, can I at least stay until the jailor and the guard come?”

Before Rapheus could speak, Rhema smiled and knelt to the level of the boy.  “I’ll watch him, Rapheus.  No harm will come to him.  After all, he has had a part to play in their arrest.  It is a good lesson to teach the youth to see things through to their completion.”

Rapheus looked to Rhema and smiled.  It appeared that Rapheus did not desire to make this a personal issue and his lips parted in a near laugh as he added, “Is it any wonder that the boy admires you?  You pamper him ever time you are around.”

Rhema only smiled in return, looking up to Ischarus.  Her cloaked friend peered out from under his hood and shook his head slowly from side to side with a wide grin on his face.

A few minutes later the armor of the jail guard could be heard as the jailor and his escort marched to the front of the inn.  They approached much like Mardak had, refraining to talk until they closed the distance completely.  Once they were at a casual conversational distance Mr. Jairdaans spoke first.

“Good eve, Rapheus.  I understand these hobgoblins have caused your travelers some difficulty on the road from Reignsburg to Scarhaus?”

Rapheus replied, “Indeed they have.  I understand that the highwaymen we interested in killing them and taking their possessions.  It is only on account of the good faith of my friends that the lives of the highwaymen were spared at all.  Fortunately for the hobliglins my friends prefer to refrain from taking life if they can avoid it.”

Mr. Jairdaans looked up to Ischarus, who had drawn his cloak even more around his face to make it impossible to make out any features in what little shadowy light made it past the edge of the hood.  The jailor addressed Ischarus by saying, “And who may I list as making the capture in case we discover anything from them during their interrogation?”

Ischarus kept the silent vigil and Rapheus answered for him.  “You may list the capturing party as myself.  Or at the very least you may note that it is one of my patrons who would prefer to not be named.  Any information that comes from these may be passed through me.”

Mr. Jairdaans breathed in deeply.  “The count will not approve of such an arrangement, Rapheus.”

Rapheus smirked.  “I have given Count Ahistrom no reason to doubt me in the past.  He has no reason to question my loyalty to his rule.  If the count has a problem with this arrangement then he can summon me to his quarters and we’ll discuss the issue there.  But until such a time as the count informs me of a new policy, I seek to protect the anonymity of my associates.  I take responsibility for their capture.  That is how it always has been, Mr. Jairdaans.  This is not the first time that this arrangement has been used.”

The jailor nodded for the guard to put the city chains and shackles on the hobgoblins and then to remove the ropes used by Ischarus.  He did motion for them to retain the gags that had been put in place to keep them from disturbing the town at night.  The guard set to work about the task as Mr. Jairdaans turned once more to look at Rapheus.  As the jailor turned, his dark eyes almost seemed to gleam for an instant with a crimson fire.  “Your friends must pay you well for your trouble, innkeeper.”

Rapheus smiled into the jailor’s glare.  “My pay is of little concern to you, Mr. Jairdaans.  You know that I appreciate your services and I had hoped I need not remind you that I do remember your services as well.  These are simple matters, really.  I continue to believe that the extra effort on your behalf to accept my name in place of the names of my associate would be easily enough forgotten under the proper considerations.  I am assuming that is still correct?”

Mr. Jairdaans smiled, backing away from the party.  “If you should find it necessary to ensure the documentation appears as you would like; well, that is certainly your decision to make.”

Rapheus nodded in what could be presumed as a dismissal of the jailor.  The jailor paused just long enough to insinuate that Rapheus’ gesture had gone unnoticed before he turned and made his own gesture toward the jailor to move the bound and gagged hobgoblins down the street.  Before long, they were gone.

Rapheus turned to his son and a stern looked come upon his face once more.  “Boy, you’ve seen enough for one day.  Show these good folk to their room while I take their horses around to the stables.”

Mardak’s face erupted in a large beaming grin.  “Sure, papa.  You can count on me!”

Ischarus and Semeion finally dismounted once the jailor was gone.  They handed the reigns over to Rapheus, who also collected the reigns of Shauvry before leading the horses around to the side of the building.  The three adventurers entered into the lobby of the inn and followed Mardak up the stairs.

As the boy walked under the desk and through the door, he wordlessly motioned for them to join him in ascending the stairs.  At the top of the stairs it appeared as though the family’s quarters were to the right, placing it above the lobby.  The boy turned to the left and added, “I know you know the way, ma’am.  But I’ll show you to the door like papa told me.”

When they reached the door Mardak opened it and stepped back into the hallway.  Rhema patted Mardak on the head and knelt down before him once more.  “You are a good lad, Mardak.  You keep listening to your father and growing up and soon you’ll be a healthy young man.  You already show such promise!”  Rhema leaned in and kissed the boy on the cheek while ruffling the hair on the top of his head.  Mardak instinctively kissed Rhema back on the cheek before she could pull away.  As Rhema stood, the rest of the party could see that Mardak was blushing considerably.

The boy watched as the rest of the party entered the room.  Of course Rhema caught Mardak’s attention, but the boy also noted the other two as they entered as well.  Mardak stared at Ischarus’ waist as he passed him by, noting that the sword hanging from Ischarus’ belt was nearly as long as the boy was tall.  He also noted Semeion’s apparent lack of weaponry.  Mardak did notice that Semeion’s hands were thin and frail, although the fingers seemed to be held stiffly and at attention.  

Mardak looked up to Semeion as Semeion turned to close the door behind him.  For the first time, the boy could see under Semeion’s hood and the boy returned the smile that Semeion gave him.  Just before the door closed, Semeion gave the boy a wink and added, “Now you should say goodnight and go to bed, young one.  The only way you’ll grow is if you sleep.”

Mardak smiled and replied, “G’night, sir.”  Semeion watched through the slightly ajar door until the boy entered the private rooms for his family.  Silently, he closed the door.

The night passed uneventfully in the small in on the edge of Scarhaus.  Semeion knew that tomorrow would be the day he entered the malevolent land of Quehalost for the first time.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Ischarus pulled Elistra to a halt just outside the local inn that they were accustomed to staying at before heading into Quehalost. Rhema and Shauvry pulled up along side of Ischarus and he nodded to Rhema as she pulled up the hood of her cloak. “Go and tell Rapheus that he’ll need to send out Mardak. His boy is going to need to raise the jailor. Tell him we’ve got two highwaymen captured and they’ll need a night’s stay behind bars and a special examination to follow.”

Rhema nodded under the hood of her cloak and stood up in her stirrups. She swung her right leg over the back of Shauvry and brought her right foot to the ground. As she did, Ischarus turned to locate Semeion. He spoke freely this night, and given the hour he felt comfortable giving orders to Semeion. “Stay back in the street and watch these highwaymen. After the walk they’ve just finished I doubt they’ve got the energy to escape. But if anyone comes along this road before the jailor comes it’ll be your job to steer them clear. We don’t need any trouble from people up late. We also don’t know the connections these hobgoblins have here in town.”

Not wanting to say too much in his tired condition, Semeion merely smiled. Ischarus continued his instructions. “And pull up the hood of your cloak. This close to Quehalost we cannot be sure about anyone being friend or foe. They might know us by our cloaks, they might not. But I guarantee our enemies know us by our faces.”

Semeion’s face turned emotionless at the serious tone taken by Ischarus’ voice. His hands instinctively rose to his shoulders and slid his hood up and over his head. The front edge of the hood hung just above the level of his eyes. He turned Thana in a half circle and faced the direction of the road that they had just come.

Rhema slipped into inn without cracking the door too far. Only a sliver of light spilled out into the dark night as the thin woman slipped between the door and its frame. Inside, Rhema saw the familiar small lobby that ended in a desk opposite the door through which she had entered. Behind the desk stood a man who looked as though to have some elf-blood somewhere back in his heritage. The man smiled as he saw Rhema, his eyes recognizing the cloak immediately as a long time patron.

“Once more headed back into Quehalost, milady?”

“Aye, Rapheus. We’ll go in once more and then keep it up until justice has come to that land. It’s a difficult task to try and accomplish one person at a time, but each time we go in there is once more person free when we leave.”

Rapheus smiled in response to Rhema’s words. “I’ll get the regular room ready for you then, ma’am. And you’ll have no worry that I’ll have the other room ready and waiting for your return whenever you show up.”

Rhema replied, “You’re very kind, Rapheus. But we’ve business to take care of this night before we retire. Ischarus has caught a few highwaymen along the road. Hobgoblins, by the look of ‘em. I don’t think they were working as part of a more organized force – just independents trying to get a few gold coins from a passerby I think. But if you wouldn’t mind sending Mardak to raise the jailor this late, I’d appreciate it.”

Rapheus’ face paled slightly at the mention of the highwaymen. “Certainly, milady.” He turned to the archway that rose behind his desk. “Mardak!” He turned back to Rhema as the sound of small feet could be heard scampering above them. “You were not injured, were you?”

Rhema smiled with an easy expression. “Nothing to note, but thank you for your concern.”

The sound of footsteps could be heard descending the stairs behind Rapheus. A young boy of about twelve years of age appeared, his head only barely above the level of the desk where Rapheus stood. Rapheus smiled at the boy’s quick response and said, “I need you to run to the jailor, Mardak. You remember Miss Rhema? She and her friends have caught a few hobgoblins attempting to steal from travelers along the road. The hobgoblins will need to be put in jail for an examination tomorrow. Can you go and bring the jailor?”

The boy smiled broadly, happy to do any favor this late at night. “Sure, papa. I can run to the jailor and back. I’ll make sure that the Mr. Jairdaans is awakened and aware of the need before he comes to collect the goblins.”

Rapheus smiled at his boy but corrected him. “Hobgoblins, Mardak. There is a difference.”

“I know, papa. I was just saying that to save some time.”

Mardak turned and ducked under the desk and smiled as he walked past Rhema. As he passed by the traveling woman, he turned his body so that he could watch her as he went by. Eventually he was walking backwards toward the door while looking to Rhema. He misjudged his approach to the door and struck the wall about a foot to the left of the door. Rhema chuckled as she watched the boy strike the wall and then turn away with an embarrassed expression upon his face.

“I think my boy has a crush on you, milady.”

“I am only flattered by his purity of heart, Rapheus. The admiration of a child is such a simple thing, but given with such honesty and sincerity. He is a good boy, you’ve done well to raise him.”

Rapheus nodded in approval of Rhema’s words regarding his boy. “It’s been hard since Tasha’s death. But the business keeps him honest and has helped him grow.”

Rhema looked to the side as Rapheus mentioned his deceased wife. She knew she had died only a few years back and the adjustment was still hard at times. Tasha had succumbed to an illness that brought on a severe fever and as a result she seemed largely out of her mind for the last day before she died. Other than the fever, though, Rhema knew that Tasha did not suffer much pain. 

Even after Rapheus finished speaking Rhema continued to look to the wall to the right. She replied, “You’ll need to meet our new associate, Rapheus. We picked him up in Reignsburg and I think he’ll be a welcome addition. He’s currently outside waiting with Ischarus and the horses.”

Rapheus nodded and lifted the part of the desk that Mardak had crawled under. Once the hinged desktop was lifted on one side it allowed Rapheus to pass from behind the desk into the small lobby where Rhema stood. He had noticed her discomfort when Tasha had been mentioned and Rapheus placed his hand upon Rhema’s shoulder. “I know that you still mourn for my wife, Rhema. Feel free to mourn for her sake, but please do not mourn for me or for Mardak. We’ve finally begun to move past the pain and into life. She lived well and taught us many things about happiness.”

Rhema turned her head and caught Rapheus’ gaze. “I know. It is still difficult to imagine this place without her, though. She brought such life to everything that she touched.”

Rapheus smiled broadly. “Then how about we go out there and meet this new acquaintance of yours. As usual, I’ll avoid using names in public. We can wait for the jailor to come outside and then I’ll send Mardak in to show you your rooms while I stable your horses.” Rapheus motioned with one hand toward the door as he wrapped his other arm around Rhema in a slight hug. Rhema lingered in his embrace for a second before opening the door and spilling a small amount of light into the street.

Outside, Rhema could just make out the small form of a young boy hurriedly retreating from her two companions. Ischarus and Semeion had obviously been talking quietly to the curious boy. It seemed, however, that the boy didn’t want to be caught by his father as he delayed from raising the jailor. Rhema smiled a bit as she stopped for a moment in the doorway. “You know …” she began and then stopped. She paused for another moment until she was sure the boy was out of sight. “Oh, never mind. It is nothing that can’t be handled once we are all inside.”

Rhema finished passing through the doorway and quickly stepped out of the light, drawing the hood of her cloak tightly around her face in the darkness of the street. Rapheus also stepped out onto the street and allowed the door to close tightly. He nodded at Ischarus and added, “Good to see you again, sir. We have a room waiting for you and your companions once the jailor arrives.”

Ischarus nodded in reply but said nothing. A very slight smile could be seen as Rapheus looked in under the hood of Ischarus as best he could. Rapheus could tell that Ischarus wanted to greet the man much more openly, but the openness of the street and proximity to the border of Quehalost would not be an appropriate place to have such a greeting. 

Rapheus looked to Semeion and nodded in greeting. Semeion lifted his hand in a simple gesture and lightly uttered a few magical words. “Par Ah-sahn.” Semeion lowered his hand to his side and Rapheus looked down to his own hand. Rapheus felt a slight pressure on his hand as well as the presence of faint warmth. The pressure and the warmth were as though he had shaken Semeion’s own hand. As quickly as the effect came, it vanished. Rapheus looked up to Semeion, but the gray cloaked horseman had turned his horse to allow him to watch the street once more.

After a long five minute wait in silence, Mardak returned in the midst of a brisk jog. He turned the final corner and smiled as he saw his father standing in the street waiting for him. As though trained not to make too many noises Mardak approached the small gathering outside the inn before speaking. Rapheus could tell that Mardak had run hard as he approached; he seemed to have some difficulty catching his breath as he began to speak. “Papa,” Mardak began with a whisper to his father, “I have alerted Mr. Jairdaans and he has sent for a jail guard to meet him. Together they will come and take the highwaymen into custody.”

“That is good, son. Now go inside and up to bed.” Rapheus answered. Mardak looked immensely disappointed at his father’s pronouncement. Rapheus gave Mardak a stern look that demanded obedience. Mardak started for the door but turned around as his hand reached for the doorknob.

“Papa, can I at least stay until the jailor and the guard come?”

Before Rapheus could speak, Rhema smiled and knelt to the level of the boy. “I’ll watch him, Rapheus. No harm will come to him. After all, he has had a part to play in their arrest. It is a good lesson to teach the youth to see things through to their completion.”

Rapheus looked to Rhema and smiled. It appeared that Rapheus did not desire to make this a personal issue and his lips parted in a near laugh as he added, “Is it any wonder that the boy admires you? You pamper him ever time you are around.”

Rhema only smiled in return, looking up to Ischarus. Her cloaked friend peered out from under his hood and shook his head slowly from side to side with a wide grin on his face.

A few minutes later the armor of the jail guard could be heard as the jailor and his escort marched to the front of the inn. They approached much like Mardak had, refraining to talk until they closed the distance completely. Once they were at a casual conversational distance Mr. Jairdaans spoke first.

“Good eve, Rapheus. I understand these hobgoblins have caused your travelers some difficulty on the road from Reignsburg to Scarhaus?”

Rapheus replied, “Indeed they have. I understand that the highwaymen we interested in killing them and taking their possessions. It is only on account of the good faith of my friends that the lives of the highwaymen were spared at all. Fortunately for the hobliglins my friends prefer to refrain from taking life if they can avoid it.”

Mr. Jairdaans looked up to Ischarus, who had drawn his cloak even more around his face to make it impossible to make out any features in what little shadowy light made it past the edge of the hood. The jailor addressed Ischarus by saying, “And who may I list as making the capture in case we discover anything from them during their interrogation?”

Ischarus kept the silent vigil and Rapheus answered for him. “You may list the capturing party as myself. Or at the very least you may note that it is one of my patrons who would prefer to not be named. Any information that comes from these may be passed through me.”

Mr. Jairdaans breathed in deeply. “The count will not approve of such an arrangement, Rapheus.”

Rapheus smirked. “I have given Count Ahistrom no reason to doubt me in the past. He has no reason to question my loyalty to his rule. If the count has a problem with this arrangement then he can summon me to his quarters and we’ll discuss the issue there. But until such a time as the count informs me of a new policy, I seek to protect the anonymity of my associates. I take responsibility for their capture. That is how it always has been, Mr. Jairdaans. This is not the first time that this arrangement has been used.”

The jailor nodded for the guard to put the city chains and shackles on the hobgoblins and then to remove the ropes used by Ischarus. He did motion for them to retain the gags that had been put in place to keep them from disturbing the town at night. The guard set to work about the task as Mr. Jairdaans turned once more to look at Rapheus. As the jailor turned, his dark eyes almost seemed to gleam for an instant with a crimson fire. “Your friends must pay you well for your trouble, innkeeper.”

Rapheus smiled into the jailor’s glare. “My pay is of little concern to you, Mr. Jairdaans. You know that I appreciate your services and I had hoped I need not remind you that I do remember your services as well. These are simple matters, really. I continue to believe that the extra effort on your behalf to accept my name in place of the names of my associate would be easily enough forgotten under the proper considerations. I am assuming that is still correct?”

Mr. Jairdaans smiled, backing away from the party. “If you should find it necessary to ensure the documentation appears as you would like; well, that is certainly your decision to make.”

Rapheus nodded in what could be presumed as a dismissal of the jailor. The jailor paused just long enough to insinuate that Rapheus’ gesture had gone unnoticed before he turned and made his own gesture toward the jailor to move the bound and gagged hobgoblins down the street. Before long, they were gone.

Rapheus turned to his son and a stern looked come upon his face once more. “Boy, you’ve seen enough for one day. Show these good folk to their room while I take their horses around to the stables.”

Mardak’s face erupted in a large beaming grin. “Sure, papa. You can count on me!”

Ischarus and Semeion finally dismounted once the jailor was gone. They handed the reigns over to Rapheus, who also collected the reigns of Shauvry before leading the horses around to the side of the building. The three adventurers entered into the lobby of the inn and followed Mardak up the stairs.

As the boy walked under the desk and through the door, he wordlessly motioned for them to join him in ascending the stairs. At the top of the stairs it appeared as though the family’s quarters were to the right, placing it above the lobby. The boy turned to the left and added, “I know you know the way, ma’am. But I’ll show you to the door like papa told me.”

When they reached the door Mardak opened it and stepped back into the hallway. Rhema patted Mardak on the head and knelt down before him once more. “You are a good lad, Mardak. You keep listening to your father and growing up and soon you’ll be a healthy young man. You already show such promise!” Rhema leaned in and kissed the boy on the cheek while ruffling the hair on the top of his head. Mardak instinctively kissed Rhema back on the cheek before she could pull away. As Rhema stood, the rest of the party could see that Mardak was blushing considerably.

The boy watched as the rest of the party entered the room. Of course Rhema caught Mardak’s attention, but the boy also noted the other two as they entered as well. Mardak stared at Ischarus’ waist as he passed him by, noting that the sword hanging from Ischarus’ belt was nearly as long as the boy was tall. He also noted Semeion’s apparent lack of weaponry. Mardak did notice that Semeion’s hands were thin and frail, although the fingers seemed to be held stiffly and at attention. 

Mardak looked up to Semeion as Semeion turned to close the door behind him. For the first time, the boy could see under Semeion’s hood and the boy returned the smile that Semeion gave him. Just before the door closed, Semeion gave the boy a wink and added, “Now you should say goodnight and go to bed, young one. The only way you’ll grow is if you sleep.”

Mardak smiled and replied, “G’night, sir.” Semeion watched through the slightly ajar door until the boy entered the private rooms for his family. Silently, he closed the door.

The night passed uneventfully in the small in on the edge of Scarhaus. Semeion knew that tomorrow would be the day he entered the malevolent land of Quehalost for the first time.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (May 10, 2006)

*Chapter Two: INTO THE DEPTHS BETWEEN HERE AND THERE*

The party saddled up just before dawn the next morning and managed to escape the other side of the small town before the sun crested over the horizon.  Each of them felt a bit on the weary and tired side already, but Semeion understood this to be a normal feeling for the morning the party headed into Quehalost.  As the sun rose, Semeion looked for the first time to the south and saw the massive mountain range rising up out of the ground.

Ischarus smiled as he noticed where Semeion’s attention rested.  He spoke, breaking Semeion’s concentration.  “They say that the good gods of the world drove the mountains up on the northern and eastern border of Quehalost to keep its denizens in.  I’m sure there is some truth to that, because the mountains are nearly impassable via an overland route.  There are a few places where they say that it is possible to pass when the weather is right.  But for the most part the best way past the mountains is to go through them underground or over them in the air.  Even then the air is so thin because the mountains are so tall that an aerial route is not always open.

Semeion looked to his right towards Ischarus as he explained the next portion of their trip.  Elistra and Thana walked side by side behind Shauvry.  “And by ‘through them’ I assume you mean under them?” Semeion asked in reply.

Ischarus smiled.  “Indeed.  In traveling under the mountains we can stay away from the cold winds of the mountain tops while enjoying the subtle warmth of the hot springs rumored to be deep in the ground.  The tunnels are passable for the most part, but only to those with their wits about them.  I doubt many animals or mindless minions could navigate the passageways successfully without it being completely luck.”

Semeion looked ahead at their route.  “It isn’t the mindless minions that I am worried about.  We’ll be without the light of day to protect us down there.  And don’t they typically say that the deep places of the earth contain more evil than the places where the light of the sun can reach?”

Rhema chuckled from the front of the group as she eavesdropped on the conversation of the men.  “That’s what Ischarus is for, dear.  His sword has been able to fend off any attempts of foul play by the denizens of the mountain depths so far.  Of course, we have a route that takes a bit longer to navigate but allows us to stay away from the majority of the truly deep passageways.  We try to be safe.  After all, if we don’t even get into Quehalost, how can we even hope to change the land and bring justice to its most unholy ground?”

Ischarus replied quickly on the heels of Rhema’s speech.  “The worst opponent we ever face is a few random gnolls.  You need to be careful of their shamans; they wield some powerful magic.  But for the most part their fighters can be handled by my threats and Rhema’s tongue.  With the addition of your magical powers we should have an even better advantage over them.”

Semeion looked once more toward the imposing mountains.  Rhema added to Semeion’s thoughts as she said, “Remember, Semeion.  We’ve made this trip what seems like countless times.  The mountain deep is not what you should fear.  The powers of Quehalost that are contained by the mountains are what should be feared.  When we get to the other side you’ll have cause to truly be afraid.  There isn’t a single time that I enter that land that I don’t get shivers up and down my back when I exit the underground mountain passage.”

Semeion didn’t reply back.  He merely looked ahead at the coming mountains.  He realized that Rhema’s words were originally meant to ease his mind about spending so much time underground.  Instead, they only brought home the reality of how dangerous this mission was which he had signed on.  It seemed like death had haunted him from the time that his master was consumed by the dragon.  Before that life-changing trip his life had seemed so enjoyable.  Suddenly he discovered that the life of a wizard was much more serious than the life of a wizard’s apprentice.

After several hours of riding the mountains drew much more close.  The horses were now forced to pick their way toward the mountains along deer trails, for no right mind would conceive of making roads this close to the mountains of Quehalost.  This meant that they traveled in a single file line with Shauvry leading the way and Thana in the back learning the route.  This marching order settled just fine with Semeion’s stomach.

The ground had taken to a significant climb as the party approached the looming mountains.  Their peaks were tall and quite pointed, not at all like the rounded hills near Reignsburg that Semeion was accustomed to.  The closer Semeion drew to the mountains the more the mountain spires reminded him of a large portcullis drawn across the land.  He remembered the story that Ischarus had told him about the mountains being drawn up out of the land as a defense against the evil forces.  This close to the tall spires, Ischarus’ creation myth seemed all the more plausible.

Another hour in the shadow of the mountain spires led them slowly to a large yawning cavern in the side of the mountain.  There was a small trickle of water that flowed out of the mouth of the cave and down the outside of the mountain.  From this position on the side of the mountain the party was able to look northward into the land.  They could only barely make out the town of Scarhaus where they had spent the night on account of the fog nestled up against the mountain.  Semeion was able to trace the trickle of water down the mountain, however.  The water flowed out of the cave and over the edge of the narrow trail the horses had found.  Once over the edge of the trail, the trickle of water plummeted several hundred feet into a small lake nestled among the trees.  The lake had not been visible except from above since the vegetation around the water’s edge was so dense.  Semeion looked up from the lake and felt himself dizzied by the realization of how high they had come as they picked their way along the deer trails.

Rhema pulled back on Shauvry’s reigns to bring the horse to a stop.  Ischarus mirrored Rhema’s stop and turned to explain to Semeion as he dismounted.  “We go by foot from here, Semeion, though we’ll lead our horses.  We’ll need them on the other side.  The caverns are low in some places and many of the ceilings have edges that could kill you if you are not careful about it.  But if we go by foot we won’t have to worry about it.  Besides, Shauvry likes to lead when we ride.  When we go by foot, I can take the lead without having Shauvry get made at the fact that Elistra is in front of her.”

Semeion nodded and watched as Ischarus ascended into the darkness of the cave.  Rhema lightly tugged on Shauvry’s reigns and her horse began to follow her into the cave.  Thana, however, had not been through this routine before.  She was considerably hesitant to enter into the cave and leave the sun behind.

Semeion sensed the hesitation from the horse and turned back to encourage her.  “I know, girl.  I don’t particularly like the idea either.  But they’ve done this many times before.  You’ve just got to trust me on this one.”  Semeion spoke softly while trying to coax the horse to move forward into the cave.  Thana didn’t budge; she wasn’t having anything to do with the underground tunnel.  Semeion turned around to peer into the cave, but it was clear that neither Ischarus nor Rhema had noticed his lagging behind.  Semeion turned around once more and lifted his hand up to stroke the horse on the side of her neck.  Thana instinctively shifted her weight forward so as to lean her neck onto Semeion’s shoulder.  As she leaned forward she stepped to balance her weight.  Semeion patted his horse on the neck and coaxed her some more.  “C’mon, girl.  You can do this with me.  I don’t know what I’m getting us into, but Shauvry and Elistra have learned to trust Ischarus and Rhema.  You can trust me on this, I won’t lead you astray.”

Slowly Thana allowed herself to be led into the cavern, only once hesitating at the sudden drop in temperature.  Semeion also noticed how damp the air was inside the cavern, which of course didn’t help the cool feeling that surrounded them.  As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cavern he spotted Ischarus and Rhema about 50 paces in front of him.  Ischarus had stopped far enough into the cave so that the outside light couldn’t be seen from the inside of the cave.  He struck his flint and steel together and managed to catch a spark.  Slowly he lifted the spark to the wick of his lantern and raised the lantern up to the level of his head.  As Semeion approached the other two he could tell that further down the tunnel there were several more tunnels that plunged deeper into the mountain.  The tunnels each looked to be naturally made by condensing moisture that joined with long diverted underground springs.  The tunnels looked old and not particularly well traveled.

Semeion smiled slightly as he approached Ischarus.  “Your flint and steel work well enough.  But if you are even in a pinch for emergency light, all you need to do is ask.  I can get you as much light as that lantern can put out.  Of course my light won’t last near as long, either.”

Ischarus replied, “I’ll remember to keep that in mind.  Any other tricks you can do that I should know about?”

Semeion smiled once more.  “Not that I can think of.  But as they come up, I’ll let you know.”

Rhema giggled at Semeion’s response.  Both Ischarus and Semeion turned towards the sound of Rhema’s giggle and Rhema gave Semeion and approving grin until she spied Ischarus looking at her too.   As soon as she saw Ischarus her face took on a false serious look as if to say to Ischarus that she certainly wasn’t giggling at Semeion’s playful response to Ischarus.

Ischarus held the lantern in front of himself and led the party to the back of the cavern.  He had come this way often enough to know which tunnel to take.  No sooner than Ischarus turned into the tunnel than his ears were accosted with a hiss and the skittering of several feet moving in a rhythmic dance.  With a flash Ischarus had his blade drawn and his hand pushed Elistra back into the main tunnel.  Rhema reached out to stop Shauvry from rearing back as Elistra backed out of the tunnel.

Rhema called out to Ischarus at the sudden movement.  “Ischarus, what is it?”

Before Ischarus could reply, his eyes caught a flash of movement and he directed the beam of his lantern in the direction of the movement.  What he saw made a grim smile fall upon his lips as he lowered the tip of his blade to a defensive position in front of his chest.  Ischarus stared into what seemed like a thousand points of light – a point for each fractal eye on the face of the large spider that crouched before him.  The spider held its position, ready to pounce at the slightest movement; and it looked unhindered by the sudden brightness of the light.

As Ischarus prepared himself, the spider uncoiled its legs and sprang out in a mighty leap towards the sword wielding Ischarus.   As the spider uncoiled from its crouch, Ischarus prepared for an attack he faced many times in coming through this tunnel.  This was no ordinary spider; it was magically enhanced to grow to unbelievable proportions.  This spider had a leg span of slightly more than five feet.  Its fangs were as long as daggers and quite capable of delivering its poisonous venom through Ischarus’ armor.  The fangs shot straight for the face of Ischarus, but the fighter crouched and raised his shield to deflect the spider’s blow.  The fangs of the spider only found the unsatisfying taste of the cold steel of the shield as Ischarus used the spider’s momentum against the creature.  As Ischarus crouched, the spider slid over top of his shield and landed on the other side.  Unfortunately for Ischarus, now the creature was between himself and his allies.

Ischarus returned the spider’s strike with a blow of his own.  Before the spider could turn and face Ischarus, the sharp steel blade hacked downwards in a sweeping strike against the rear legs of the large beast.  The blade caught the first legs and snapped through the hard exoskeleton.  Fragments of the spiked chitin sprayed across the tunnel.  The blow carried Ischarus’ sword through the final rear leg on the other side of the spider’s body and cracked the large arachnid’s exoskeleton covering that leg.  The beast pivoted in pain as Ischarus realized that he had impaired the creature and deprived it of the full use of most of its legs.

“Gnolls, Rhema. There are gnolls about in the tunnel today,” Ischarus replied as he watched the spider turn and prepare another strike.  He was able to recover enough from his devastating blow to plan a counterattack against the strike that he knew was coming.

Rhema turned the corner only a fraction of a second before the spider pounced again.  Seeing the large spider focusing on Ischarus, Rhema focused her thoughts much like she had against the half-orc in the _Cachinnating Roadhouse_ a few nights before.  The spider crouched in what Ischarus thought was a precursor to a strike until he looked and saw Rhema approaching the beast from behind.  As Rhema approach slowly the beast crumpled to the floor under pain.  A few seconds later the spider collapsed completely in a motionless lump on the floor.  Its remaining legs lay in awkward positions in varying directions from under the massive spider body.

Ischarus spun on his heels as he saw Rhema defeat the large spider.  He held his lantern out in front of him and thoroughly shined the light throughout the immediate tunnel.  When he was convinced there was nothing to see, he stowed his shield and picked up the lantern with his left hand.  In his right hand he once more drew his sword.

Rhema saw Ischarus take an aggressive stance and scan the tunnel ahead.  Suddenly Ischarus sprang into a run away from her.  As Ischarus began to run frantically down the hall Rhema yelled after him.  “Where are you going?” Her eyes widened as he quickly ran away from her.

Ischarus called back over his shoulder, “Bring Elistra and Shauvry down the tunnel.  That was a shaman’s intimate, and where the intimate is the shaman is not far.  I’m going after the shaman before he can get back to his village as raise help!”

Rhema exhaled heavily at Ischarus’ rash charge.  She quickly turned to face Semeion, who had come up behind her to support her in case the fight with the spider had gone poorly.

“What’s going on?” Semeion asked innocently, hearing the frustration in her sigh.

Rhema smiled as she grabbed Shauvry’s reigns.  “That fool,” she said with a laugh in her voice, “is headed after a gnoll shaman.  He’s right in that he had to hurry, but I wish just once he’d at least think before charging down tunnel.”

Semeion grabbed the reigns of Thana and added with some concern, “Will he need our help?”

Rhema nodded in the affirmative.  “We should hurry.  Push Elistra into the tunnel after I take Shauvry.  The shamans fight with magic and that is Ischarus’ weak point.”

Rhema began to jog down the tunnel, careful to lead Shauvry away from any major rocks and holes on the ground that could pose a danger to the horse’s legs.  Semeion pulled Elistra into the tunnel and with a swat on the hind-quarters he sent Elistra into a trot behind Shauvry.  He turned to encourage Thana, but she appeared to understand the need for urgency.  Without any encouragement needed she began to trot through the tunnel following Elistra.

Ischarus charged down the tunnel with much more speed than Rhema, Semeion, and the trio of horses.  Within seconds the light from Ischarus’ lantern was out of view and Ischarus was a turn or two ahead of the rest of the party.  With the light source gone, Rhema slowed.  “We can’t follow him quickly if we are blind,” she added in a tone that hinted at disgust.

In the darkness, Semeion crept up slowly behind Rhema.  Unable to see, he placed his hand on Elistra’s side to feel his way forward.  Passing Elistra, his touch startled Rhema from out of the darkness.  Rhema let out a simple yelp at being startled.  Semeion quickly shushed her and added, “I have a solution to our problem.  Give me the cords at the end of Shauvry’s reigns.”

Rhema complied quickly and she could hear the quiet magical utterings of her new friend.  Semeion said a simple word, “Arack.”  The leather cording at the end of the reigns lit up as if it were a lantern in its own right.  The tunnel was now lit and Rhema could see several paces in front and behind of her.  

Rhema smiled and reached her hand behind Semeion’s neck to pull him forward.  Stepping up to her tiptoes so she could reach his face with her own lips she gave Semeion a kiss on the cheek.  “I knew I liked you from the moment I saw you.  It’s the simple things like this that will make you a valuable member to our team.  You don’t know how many times I have been left in the dark by Ischarus, and I don’t mean intellectually!”

Semeion blushed at the gesture of the kiss and smiled.  He couldn’t find the words to utter in response, so he merely nodded as if to probe Rhema forward.  She smiled in return, understanding that she had slightly embarrassed him.  She turned quickly and began to jog once again in the direction Ischarus had gone.  Elistra followed Shauvry without needing encouragement.  Semeion quickly jogged alongside Thana in the final position.

Ahead of the party, Ischarus continued to charge hard.  As he ran, twice he could swear that he saw a faint outline of a running gnoll ahead of him, although each time it lasted only for an instant.  As the faint outline of the gnoll appeared a third time, Ischarus heard the gnoll yell in a guttural voice, “Cathra soon-Utal”  A sudden chill came over Ischarus and he could sense the humidity of the surrounding area increase dramatically.  A mist began to rise up from the floor, but Ischarus knew there were no turns in the immediate vicinity so he continued to charge hard through the mist.  He burst forth on the other side of the mist and wiped the condensation away from his forehead.  He also noticed that he was beginning to gain on the gnoll shaman.

The gnoll could hear Ischarus behind him and knew that the spell had not worked to slow down his pursuer.  The gnoll tried one more spell that it had in its arsenal.  “Granchus,” it called out with a glance over its shoulder.

Ischarus heard a slight rumble – although not a rumble as if an earthquake or a cave-in were about to happen.  Instantly he saw the source of the sound.  The moss and the roots of the nearby plants grew forth in a quickened magical growth.  The roots and the moss grew so quick as to catch him mid stride.  Ischarus attempted to hack at the roots as they grabbed his legs, but the roots grew back even more quickly when he hacked at them.  Before he could get a second swing the roots from the ceiling had grown down enough to entangle his arms and suspend him as if he were on a stretching torture device.  The roots from above pulled up while the moss and the roots below kept his feet flat against the ground.  

The gnoll could tell from the sound that its spell had worked.  The shaman stopped his retreat and approached Ischarus for a moment.  “You lose this time, surface dweller.”

Ischarus breathed heavily and struggled to keep from being torn in two.  “You better run, dog-man.  This spell can’t last forever, and when it ends I’ll be after you.”

The look in Ischarus’ eyes must have been enough to convince the gnoll to turn tail and flee.  The shaman quickly spun around and scampered down the tunnel, leaving Ischarus to struggle against the plant growth.  A full half minute of struggling later Ischarus could hear the sound of horses coming up from behind.  

Ischarus heard the familiar voice of Rhema.  “Ischarus?  Is that you?”  In a more panicked voice once she figured out that it was indeed Ischarus she yelled, “Are you injured?” She left Shauvry and ran to the edge of the plant growth.  Shauvry slowed and stayed about twenty feet behind Rhema.

Ischarus groaned under the strain of the plants but managed to add, “I’m uninjured, although the gnoll got away.  He better hope I don’t catch up to him another day!”

Semeion approached slowly and tried to comfort Ischarus.  “If it makes you feel any better, Ischarus, the magic is nearly spent.  A few more seconds and you’ll be freed of the magical trap.”

Ischarus groaned as Semeion spoke.  As predicted, about ten seconds later the plants began to ease their strain on Ischarus’ midsection.  The roots and the moss began to recede back into the walls of the tunnel.  Ischarus was finally able to lower his arms, and upon being free he dropped to the ground and doubled over.

Rhema ran to his side.  “Ischarus,” she said with the tone of a worried lover, “Are you sure you are not injured?”

Ischarus nodded as he lay doubled over in pain.  “I’m fine, just a bit overstretched.  I’m all cramped up now, I’ll need a bit of a rest.”

Semeion smiled as he looked down at the struggling man.  He remembered Rhema’s earlier words about Ischarus and magic.  This time, magic had won.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Chapter Two: INTO THE DEPTHS BETWEEN HERE AND THERE

The party saddled up just before dawn the next morning and managed to escape the other side of the small town before the sun crested over the horizon. Each of them felt a bit on the weary and tired side already, but Semeion understood this to be a normal feeling for the morning the party headed into Quehalost. As the sun rose, Semeion looked for the first time to the south and saw the massive mountain range rising up out of the ground.

Ischarus smiled as he noticed where Semeion’s attention rested. He spoke, breaking Semeion’s concentration. “They say that the good gods of the world drove the mountains up on the northern and eastern border of Quehalost to keep its denizens in. I’m sure there is some truth to that, because the mountains are nearly impassable via an overland route. There are a few places where they say that it is possible to pass when the weather is right. But for the most part the best way past the mountains is to go through them underground or over them in the air. Even then the air is so thin because the mountains are so tall that an aerial route is not always open.

Semeion looked to his right towards Ischarus as he explained the next portion of their trip. Elistra and Thana walked side by side behind Shauvry. “And by ‘through them’ I assume you mean under them?” Semeion asked in reply.

Ischarus smiled. “Indeed. In traveling under the mountains we can stay away from the cold winds of the mountain tops while enjoying the subtle warmth of the hot springs rumored to be deep in the ground. The tunnels are passable for the most part, but only to those with their wits about them. I doubt many animals or mindless minions could navigate the passageways successfully without it being completely luck.”

Semeion looked ahead at their route. “It isn’t the mindless minions that I am worried about. We’ll be without the light of day to protect us down there. And don’t they typically say that the deep places of the earth contain more evil than the places where the light of the sun can reach?”

Rhema chuckled from the front of the group as she eavesdropped on the conversation of the men. “That’s what Ischarus is for, dear. His sword has been able to fend off any attempts of foul play by the denizens of the mountain depths so far. Of course, we have a route that takes a bit longer to navigate but allows us to stay away from the majority of the truly deep passageways. We try to be safe. After all, if we don’t even get into Quehalost, how can we even hope to change the land and bring justice to its most unholy ground?”

Ischarus replied quickly on the heels of Rhema’s speech. “The worst opponent we ever face is a few random gnolls. You need to be careful of their shamans; they wield some powerful magic. But for the most part their fighters can be handled by my threats and Rhema’s tongue. With the addition of your magical powers we should have an even better advantage over them.”

Semeion looked once more toward the imposing mountains. Rhema added to Semeion’s thoughts as she said, “Remember, Semeion. We’ve made this trip what seems like countless times. The mountain deep is not what you should fear. The powers of Quehalost that are contained by the mountains are what should be feared. When we get to the other side you’ll have cause to truly be afraid. There isn’t a single time that I enter that land that I don’t get shivers up and down my back when I exit the underground mountain passage.”

Semeion didn’t reply back. He merely looked ahead at the coming mountains. He realized that Rhema’s words were originally meant to ease his mind about spending so much time underground. Instead, they only brought home the reality of how dangerous this mission was which he had signed on. It seemed like death had haunted him from the time that his master was consumed by the dragon. Before that life-changing trip his life had seemed so enjoyable. Suddenly he discovered that the life of a wizard was much more serious than the life of a wizard’s apprentice.

After several hours of riding the mountains drew much more close. The horses were now forced to pick their way toward the mountains along deer trails, for no right mind would conceive of making roads this close to the mountains of Quehalost. This meant that they traveled in a single file line with Shauvry leading the way and Thana in the back learning the route. This marching order settled just fine with Semeion’s stomach.

The ground had taken to a significant climb as the party approached the looming mountains. Their peaks were tall and quite pointed, not at all like the rounded hills near Reignsburg that Semeion was accustomed to. The closer Semeion drew to the mountains the more the mountain spires reminded him of a large portcullis drawn across the land. He remembered the story that Ischarus had told him about the mountains being drawn up out of the land as a defense against the evil forces. This close to the tall spires, Ischarus’ creation myth seemed all the more plausible.

Another hour in the shadow of the mountain spires led them slowly to a large yawning cavern in the side of the mountain. There was a small trickle of water that flowed out of the mouth of the cave and down the outside of the mountain. From this position on the side of the mountain the party was able to look northward into the land. They could only barely make out the town of Scarhaus where they had spent the night on account of the fog nestled up against the mountain. Semeion was able to trace the trickle of water down the mountain, however. The water flowed out of the cave and over the edge of the narrow trail the horses had found. Once over the edge of the trail, the trickle of water plummeted several hundred feet into a small lake nestled among the trees. The lake had not been visible except from above since the vegetation around the water’s edge was so dense. Semeion looked up from the lake and felt himself dizzied by the realization of how high they had come as they picked their way along the deer trails.

Rhema pulled back on Shauvry’s reigns to bring the horse to a stop. Ischarus mirrored Rhema’s stop and turned to explain to Semeion as he dismounted. “We go by foot from here, Semeion, though we’ll lead our horses. We’ll need them on the other side. The caverns are low in some places and many of the ceilings have edges that could kill you if you are not careful about it. But if we go by foot we won’t have to worry about it. Besides, Shauvry likes to lead when we ride. When we go by foot, I can take the lead without having Shauvry get made at the fact that Elistra is in front of her.”

Semeion nodded and watched as Ischarus ascended into the darkness of the cave. Rhema lightly tugged on Shauvry’s reigns and her horse began to follow her into the cave. Thana, however, had not been through this routine before. She was considerably hesitant to enter into the cave and leave the sun behind.

Semeion sensed the hesitation from the horse and turned back to encourage her. “I know, girl. I don’t particularly like the idea either. But they’ve done this many times before. You’ve just got to trust me on this one.” Semeion spoke softly while trying to coax the horse to move forward into the cave. Thana didn’t budge; she wasn’t having anything to do with the underground tunnel. Semeion turned around to peer into the cave, but it was clear that neither Ischarus nor Rhema had noticed his lagging behind. Semeion turned around once more and lifted his hand up to stroke the horse on the side of her neck. Thana instinctively shifted her weight forward so as to lean her neck onto Semeion’s shoulder. As she leaned forward she stepped to balance her weight. Semeion patted his horse on the neck and coaxed her some more. “C’mon, girl. You can do this with me. I don’t know what I’m getting us into, but Shauvry and Elistra have learned to trust Ischarus and Rhema. You can trust me on this, I won’t lead you astray.”

Slowly Thana allowed herself to be led into the cavern, only once hesitating at the sudden drop in temperature. Semeion also noticed how damp the air was inside the cavern, which of course didn’t help the cool feeling that surrounded them. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cavern he spotted Ischarus and Rhema about 50 paces in front of him. Ischarus had stopped far enough into the cave so that the outside light couldn’t be seen from the inside of the cave. He struck his flint and steel together and managed to catch a spark. Slowly he lifted the spark to the wick of his lantern and raised the lantern up to the level of his head. As Semeion approached the other two he could tell that further down the tunnel there were several more tunnels that plunged deeper into the mountain. The tunnels each looked to be naturally made by condensing moisture that joined with long diverted underground springs. The tunnels looked old and not particularly well traveled.

Semeion smiled slightly as he approached Ischarus. “Your flint and steel work well enough. But if you are even in a pinch for emergency light, all you need to do is ask. I can get you as much light as that lantern can put out. Of course my light won’t last near as long, either.”

Ischarus replied, “I’ll remember to keep that in mind. Any other tricks you can do that I should know about?”

Semeion smiled once more. “Not that I can think of. But as they come up, I’ll let you know.”

Rhema giggled at Semeion’s response. Both Ischarus and Semeion turned towards the sound of Rhema’s giggle and Rhema gave Semeion and approving grin until she spied Ischarus looking at her too. As soon as she saw Ischarus her face took on a false serious look as if to say to Ischarus that she certainly wasn’t giggling at Semeion’s playful response to Ischarus.

Ischarus held the lantern in front of himself and led the party to the back of the cavern. He had come this way often enough to know which tunnel to take. No sooner than Ischarus turned into the tunnel than his ears were accosted with a hiss and the skittering of several feet moving in a rhythmic dance. With a flash Ischarus had his blade drawn and his hand pushed Elistra back into the main tunnel. Rhema reached out to stop Shauvry from rearing back as Elistra backed out of the tunnel.

Rhema called out to Ischarus at the sudden movement. “Ischarus, what is it?”

Before Ischarus could reply, his eyes caught a flash of movement and he directed the beam of his lantern in the direction of the movement. What he saw made a grim smile fall upon his lips as he lowered the tip of his blade to a defensive position in front of his chest. Ischarus stared into what seemed like a thousand points of light – a point for each fractal eye on the face of the large spider that crouched before him. The spider held its position, ready to pounce at the slightest movement; and it looked unhindered by the sudden brightness of the light.

As Ischarus prepared himself, the spider uncoiled its legs and sprang out in a mighty leap towards the sword wielding Ischarus. As the spider uncoiled from its crouch, Ischarus prepared for an attack he faced many times in coming through this tunnel. This was no ordinary spider; it was magically enhanced to grow to unbelievable proportions. This spider had a leg span of slightly more than five feet. Its fangs were as long as daggers and quite capable of delivering its poisonous venom through Ischarus’ armor. The fangs shot straight for the face of Ischarus, but the fighter crouched and raised his shield to deflect the spider’s blow. The fangs of the spider only found the unsatisfying taste of the cold steel of the shield as Ischarus used the spider’s momentum against the creature. As Ischarus crouched, the spider slid over top of his shield and landed on the other side. Unfortunately for Ischarus, now the creature was between himself and his allies.

Ischarus returned the spider’s strike with a blow of his own. Before the spider could turn and face Ischarus, the sharp steel blade hacked downwards in a sweeping strike against the rear legs of the large beast. The blade caught the first legs and snapped through the hard exoskeleton. Fragments of the spiked chitin sprayed across the tunnel. The blow carried Ischarus’ sword through the final rear leg on the other side of the spider’s body and cracked the large arachnid’s exoskeleton covering that leg. The beast pivoted in pain as Ischarus realized that he had impaired the creature and deprived it of the full use of most of its legs.

“Gnolls, Rhema. There are gnolls about in the tunnel today,” Ischarus replied as he watched the spider turn and prepare another strike. He was able to recover enough from his devastating blow to plan a counterattack against the strike that he knew was coming.

Rhema turned the corner only a fraction of a second before the spider pounced again. Seeing the large spider focusing on Ischarus, Rhema focused her thoughts much like she had against the half-orc in the Cachinnating Roadhouse a few nights before. The spider crouched in what Ischarus thought was a precursor to a strike until he looked and saw Rhema approaching the beast from behind. As Rhema approach slowly the beast crumpled to the floor under pain. A few seconds later the spider collapsed completely in a motionless lump on the floor. Its remaining legs lay in awkward positions in varying directions from under the massive spider body.

Ischarus spun on his heels as he saw Rhema defeat the large spider. He held his lantern out in front of him and thoroughly shined the light throughout the immediate tunnel. When he was convinced there was nothing to see, he stowed his shield and picked up the lantern with his left hand. In his right hand he once more drew his sword.

Rhema saw Ischarus take an aggressive stance and scan the tunnel ahead. Suddenly Ischarus sprang into a run away from her. As Ischarus began to run frantically down the hall Rhema yelled after him. “Where are you going?” Her eyes widened as he quickly ran away from her.

Ischarus called back over his shoulder, “Bring Elistra and Shauvry down the tunnel. That was a shaman’s intimate, and where the intimate is the shaman is not far. I’m going after the shaman before he can get back to his village as raise help!”

Rhema exhaled heavily at Ischarus’ rash charge. She quickly turned to face Semeion, who had come up behind her to support her in case the fight with the spider had gone poorly.

“What’s going on?” Semeion asked innocently, hearing the frustration in her sigh.

Rhema smiled as she grabbed Shauvry’s reigns. “That fool,” she said with a laugh in her voice, “is headed after a gnoll shaman. He’s right in that he had to hurry, but I wish just once he’d at least think before charging down tunnel.”

Semeion grabbed the reigns of Thana and added with some concern, “Will he need our help?”

Rhema nodded in the affirmative. “We should hurry. Push Elistra into the tunnel after I take Shauvry. The shamans fight with magic and that is Ischarus’ weak point.”

Rhema began to jog down the tunnel, careful to lead Shauvry away from any major rocks and holes on the ground that could pose a danger to the horse’s legs. Semeion pulled Elistra into the tunnel and with a swat on the hind-quarters he sent Elistra into a trot behind Shauvry. He turned to encourage Thana, but she appeared to understand the need for urgency. Without any encouragement needed she began to trot through the tunnel following Elistra.

Ischarus charged down the tunnel with much more speed than Rhema, Semeion, and the trio of horses. Within seconds the light from Ischarus’ lantern was out of view and Ischarus was a turn or two ahead of the rest of the party. With the light source gone, Rhema slowed. “We can’t follow him quickly if we are blind,” she added in a tone that hinted at disgust.

In the darkness, Semeion crept up slowly behind Rhema. Unable to see, he placed his hand on Elistra’s side to feel his way forward. Passing Elistra, his touch startled Rhema from out of the darkness. Rhema let out a simple yelp at being startled. Semeion quickly shushed her and added, “I have a solution to our problem. Give me the cords at the end of Shauvry’s reigns.”

Rhema complied quickly and she could hear the quiet magical utterings of her new friend. Semeion said a simple word, “Arack.” The leather cording at the end of the reigns lit up as if it were a lantern in its own right. The tunnel was now lit and Rhema could see several paces in front and behind of her. 

Rhema smiled and reached her hand behind Semeion’s neck to pull him forward. Stepping up to her tiptoes so she could reach his face with her own lips she gave Semeion a kiss on the cheek. “I knew I liked you from the moment I saw you. It’s the simple things like this that will make you a valuable member to our team. You don’t know how many times I have been left in the dark by Ischarus, and I don’t mean intellectually!”

Semeion blushed at the gesture of the kiss and smiled. He couldn’t find the words to utter in response, so he merely nodded as if to probe Rhema forward. She smiled in return, understanding that she had slightly embarrassed him. She turned quickly and began to jog once again in the direction Ischarus had gone. Elistra followed Shauvry without needing encouragement. Semeion quickly jogged alongside Thana in the final position.

Ahead of the party, Ischarus continued to charge hard. As he ran, twice he could swear that he saw a faint outline of a running gnoll ahead of him, although each time it lasted only for an instant. As the faint outline of the gnoll appeared a third time, Ischarus heard the gnoll yell in a guttural voice, “Cathra soon-Utal” A sudden chill came over Ischarus and he could sense the humidity of the surrounding area increase dramatically. A mist began to rise up from the floor, but Ischarus knew there were no turns in the immediate vicinity so he continued to charge hard through the mist. He burst forth on the other side of the mist and wiped the condensation away from his forehead. He also noticed that he was beginning to gain on the gnoll shaman.

The gnoll could hear Ischarus behind him and knew that the spell had not worked to slow down his pursuer. The gnoll tried one more spell that it had in its arsenal. “Granchus,” it called out with a glance over its shoulder.

Ischarus heard a slight rumble – although not a rumble as if an earthquake or a cave-in were about to happen. Instantly he saw the source of the sound. The moss and the roots of the nearby plants grew forth in a quickened magical growth. The roots and the moss grew so quick as to catch him mid stride. Ischarus attempted to hack at the roots as they grabbed his legs, but the roots grew back even more quickly when he hacked at them. Before he could get a second swing the roots from the ceiling had grown down enough to entangle his arms and suspend him as if he were on a stretching torture device. The roots from above pulled up while the moss and the roots below kept his feet flat against the ground. 

The gnoll could tell from the sound that its spell had worked. The shaman stopped his retreat and approached Ischarus for a moment. “You lose this time, surface dweller.”

Ischarus breathed heavily and struggled to keep from being torn in two. “You better run, dog-man. This spell can’t last forever, and when it ends I’ll be after you.”

The look in Ischarus’ eyes must have been enough to convince the gnoll to turn tail and flee. The shaman quickly spun around and scampered down the tunnel, leaving Ischarus to struggle against the plant growth. A full half minute of struggling later Ischarus could hear the sound of horses coming up from behind. 

Ischarus heard the familiar voice of Rhema. “Ischarus? Is that you?” In a more panicked voice once she figured out that it was indeed Ischarus she yelled, “Are you injured?” She left Shauvry and ran to the edge of the plant growth. Shauvry slowed and stayed about twenty feet behind Rhema.

Ischarus groaned under the strain of the plants but managed to add, “I’m uninjured, although the gnoll got away. He better hope I don’t catch up to him another day!”

Semeion approached slowly and tried to comfort Ischarus. “If it makes you feel any better, Ischarus, the magic is nearly spent. A few more seconds and you’ll be freed of the magical trap.”

Ischarus groaned as Semeion spoke. As predicted, about ten seconds later the plants began to ease their strain on Ischarus’ midsection. The roots and the moss began to recede back into the walls of the tunnel. Ischarus was finally able to lower his arms, and upon being free he dropped to the ground and doubled over.

Rhema ran to his side. “Ischarus,” she said with the tone of a worried lover, “Are you sure you are not injured?”

Ischarus nodded as he lay doubled over in pain. “I’m fine, just a bit overstretched. I’m all cramped up now, I’ll need a bit of a rest.”

Semeion smiled as he looked down at the struggling man. He remembered Rhema’s earlier words about Ischarus and magic. This time, magic had won.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (May 10, 2006)

Ischarus lay on the floor for several minutes before eventually beginning some simple stretching exercises.  A few minutes later he brought himself onto his hands and knees and then raised himself upright on a single knee.  When he was sure that he wasn’t going to pass out he stood the rest of the way.  Rhema stood beside him the whole time as if to catch him should he fall.  Of course, given Ischarus’ weight and size compared to Rhema’s delicate figure Rhema would have simply ended up underneath Ischarus had that possibility unfolded.

Once he was sure that he was stable, Ischarus added, “We should probably hurry, I’ve wasted enough of our time here.  If that gnoll managed to get back to his village and they’re not far from the main trail we can expect pursuit.  We can handle a stray gnoll here and there, but I don’t think we have much of a desire to handle a gnoll retaliation effort.  If they come in great numbers they could swarm us under.”

Semeion snorted out a bit of a laugh and looked to Rhema.  She replied to his snort, “Unfortunately, he’s pretty serious about that one …”

Ischarus interrupted her.  “I gave that gnoll a good scare.  He was running for his life and he knew it.  He might count himself lucky, but I doubt it.  He’ll want to bring friends so he can watch me run.”

He reached out for the handle of his lantern and Elistra’s reigns.  The ends of Shauvry’s reigns continued to provide light in addition to Ischarus’ lantern and he noticed this new light source as he turned to accept Elistra’s reigns from Rhema.  “That’s a nice trick, Semeion.  It at least keeps Rhema from having to follow in the dark.”  His lips parted slightly in a pained smile as he turned around to start the trio moving forward once more.

Ischarus lead Rhema and Semeion through a maze of corridors underground.  Semeion noted that at each and every turn there was no hesitation on the part of Ischarus.  At each turn he knew precisely where to go in spite of the lack of markings and similarity to one another.  Additionally, this deep under the mountain the air was terrifically still.   Not even a gust of wind could be detected to alert them toward any directional sense.  In spite of the lack of indicators, at every place for decision Ischarus decisively led the party forward.

The party walked for nearly an hour in near silence.  The only thing that could be heard was the faint treading of their feet upon the ground and this clip of the horse hooves as they occasionally struck a rock underfoot.  Suddenly the near silence was shattered by the dark uttering of a bass voice.  “Daancrah Pashraak,” spoke an unknown voice in the darkness ahead.

Ischarus froze in his place for a split-second.  Rhema instinctively froze as well.  “Gnolls.  Again,” Rhema cursed under her breath.

“Spell casters, too,” Semeion added.  “I’d know the sound of that language anywhere.”

Before they realized what was upon them Rhema, Semeion, and Ischarus were completely covered in tiny spiders.  The spiders seemed to swarm out of every crevasse in the ceiling, floor, and walls around them.  The tiny spiders swarmed by the thousands over the three adventurers and their horses.  The insect swarm was so thick that in only a matter of seconds the spiders had covered nearly every inch of their skin.  The spider swarm grew so thick so quickly that before the adventurers could react there were spiders crawling upon the backs of the first layer of spiders.  As Semeion looked around to Ischarus and Rhema he realized that the swarm was so intense that their skin was no longer visible through the dense mass of spiders.

Realizing that the effect was arcane in nature, Semeion commanded from the back of the group.  “Move ahead now.  And move ahead quickly.  You must find the speaker of the words and disrupt his concentration – or outright kill him!”

Ischarus moved instinctively at Semeion’s shout; however his movement was more on account of the itching caused by the thousands of spiders crawling across his skin and clothing.  The spiders swarmed over the adventurers as they attempted to find any means to sink their teeth into a patch of unprotected skin.  Rhema quickly followed Ischarus.  She was madly flailing her arms about, trying to shake the infernal spiders away from her arms.  Her body was much more easily accessed than Ischarus’ body since Ischarus was dressed for battle and under armor.  Ischarus managed to remove most of the tiny insects without being bitten often.  Rhema was not as lucky as spider after spider found juicy flesh to sink its teeth into.

Still holding the reigns of Elistra, Ischarus charged down the tunnel in the direction from which the chanting had come.  He knew that Elistra was being bitten as much if not more than he and Rhema.  The horse hide was far thicker than their own skin, but the crawling motions of the spiders had obviously disturbed his unfortunate horse.  Ischarus also knew that Rhema, Shauvry, Semeion, and Thana would have no chance against the swarm of spiders if Elistra continued to block the tunnel.  He pulled the horse along as he tried to run down the tunnel.

As Ischarus charged, two large forms came into view.  Both of them stood taller than he did and looked almost like jackals standing upright on two legs.  As the enemy came into view Ischarus released Elistra’s reigns, drew his sword, and uttered a battle cry from deep within his person.  “You will rue the day you attacked my companions, dogs!”  The insult was a commentary on their hyena like faces than a standardized battle cry.

Rhema came quickly up behind Ischarus.  She fled the swarm of insects as quickly as Ischarus could move away from it.  Semeion breathed deeply and lowered his head, stepping just as quickly as Rhema could move through the affected area of spiders.  Fortunately the spiders seemed to seethe around the tunnel in a small foot area, so Semeion and Thana were able to pass through with a reasonably easy amount of effort before too many arachnid hitchhikers could latch on and find an unprotected area.

As Rhema approached the back of Ischarus and Elistra she perceived the two gnolls that threatened Ischarus’ advance away from the spider swarm.  With a simple gesture of her free hand she extended her index and middle finger outward toward the more warrior-like of the two gnolls.  The gnoll saw her approach and she smiled broadly.  Her thumb, ring finger, and pinky instinctively curled in towards her palm.  Her mind began to harness its power and her eyes almost glistened as her thoughts came into reality.  “You don’t want to harm us, gnoll.  We’re too much of a serious challenge for you and you might actually get hurt.  Drop your weapons and I’ll guarantee that my friend here doesn’t hurt you.”

The gnoll hesitated for a moment, gripping its own axe tightly in its left hand.  As Rhema spoke her soothing words through the deep power of her mind, the gnoll’s grip on the axe loosened and its face revealed its own surprise as the axe fell from its hand.  The gnoll also dropped the shield it was carrying and uttered a comment in a voice even more bass than the one which had called forth the horde of spiders, “I think are you correct.  You might hurt me, I will not fight today.”  The voice was one that struggled with the language spoken.

The other gnoll cursed loudly in its own language and yelled, “Farrung, what do you do?”  In its own tongue it continued, “Bargrak drratch kratch, Farrung.”  When the more warrior-like gnoll didn’t respond to the one who spoke, the gnoll refocused his attention onto Ischarus and readied a crude morningstar.  The gnoll stepped toward Ischarus and swung the wooden shaft with a large stone at the top.  Ischarus hoisted his shield up into the path of the oncoming morningstar and deflected the blow away from his body.  The gnoll spat upon the ground as it knew it had missed with its first strike opportunity.

Ischarus yelled as the attack was deflected.  “You’ll not get many better chances than that one, dog!” He used the momentum of his shield thrust to extend his sword in a straight jab towards the gnoll’s body.  The gnoll sidestepped Ischarus’ blow and spun away from the attack, thinking about his next assault onto Ischarus.

Semeion joined the party, noting that after he passed through the spiders they had begun to dissipate and recede into the crevasses from which they had come.  As Semeion caught up to Ischarus and Rhema, he noticed that about the same time as the spider had begun to recede the second gnoll had begun to attack Ischarus.  “Tok-skrie Ah-su” Semeion shouted as he came into view of the gnolls.  The gnoll that had been assaulting Ischarus began to grow, nearly doubling in size.  The gnoll’s head slammed against the roof of the tunnel, sending a shower of dust and rock fragments onto the shorter Ischarus.  Ischarus smiled at Semeion’s tactics.  The gnoll was now far too large to maneuver effectively in the tunnel.

Rhema continued to talk to the gnoll that was beginning to fall under her soothing control.  “You’re alright, gnoll.  You made the right choice in dropping your weapon.  You’ll live to fight another day.  You’ll live to return back to your den.  Leave the axe on the ground and no harm will come to you.”

The gnoll attacking Ischarus attempted a feeble swing with his now large morningstar.  Ischarus easily dodged the attack, although the miss was more attributed to the fact that the gnoll bounced the morningstar off of the ceiling and the side of the tunnel before beginning a very ineffective swing.  

Ischarus smiled once more at Semeion’s previous tactical maneuver.  He hoisted his sword once more in an attack against the gnoll and this time struck the much bigger target.  The blow was tremendously placed – the flat of the blade impacted the gnoll’s exposed ribcage and then the sword cut down into the gnoll’s large thigh.  The leg wound was not deep at all.  Ischarus had designed the blow to impair the creature’s movement rather than try to kill it.  Ischarus didn’t realize at first that the gnoll had been knocked unconscious by the strike against the ribcage, making the blow to the leg immediately unnecessary.  The large gnoll fell to the cave floor and sprawled about the entire horizontal surface.  Due to the enlarged creature’s great size made it impossible to move the horses further down the tunnel.

Rhema saw the beast fall and knew exactly what to say.  “Semeion, can you dismiss your spell and return the creature to its normal size?”  She immediately understood the logistical problem.  Without even a word Semeion smiled and the gnoll gradually shrank back to a more normal size.  The creature remained unconscious and lay still upon the ground.

Rhema turned to the remaining gnoll and said, “Listen to me.  Your gnoll brother is not dead, merely wounded and unconscious.  There is no need for him to die – nor for yourself.  I think you should leave your armor and weapons on the floor and allow us to remove the weapons of your companion.  If you allow us to do that, I can guarantee that no more harm will come to you or your friend.  You can tell me you agree be removing your armor and leaving it on the ground with your axe and shield.”

The gnoll was well within Rhema’s mental grasp by this point.  The creature would have likely obeyed any command she spoke short of jumping into a molten lava pool.  The gnoll quickly began to unfasten the crude straps that held the armor securely around its body.  In short order the creature left the pile of armor on the ground beside the shield and the sword.  Rhema smiled at the gnoll and nodded to Ischarus.

Ischarus stowed his weapon and approached the wounded gnoll, stripping it of its morningstar.  Ischarus also gently tugged on the straps that held this gnoll’s light leather armor in place.  Even though the gnoll had been trying to kill him – and he had been trying to hurt the gnoll in return – it was obvious to Rhema and Semeion as they looked on that Ischarus had a deep respect for this gnoll’s life.  Ischarus knew the gnoll was wounded badly and did not want to do anything else to injure the gnoll beyond what had already been done.  

As Ischarus undid the gnoll’s armor he also found a few useful stones within one of the pockets of the armor.  Rather than pulling the stones out and revealing them to the gnoll who was watching him to make sure he did not abuse his companion, Ischarus merely noted their presence and made sure that as he removed the armor the stones stayed within the pocket of the armor.  As the armor was gently taken off of the body of the wounded gnoll, Ischarus also discovered two daggers with rather ornately carved handles.  It was obvious to Ischarus from their craftsmanship that these daggers were not of gnoll origin but most likely of dwarven make.  As he removed the daggers Ischarus stood and nodded once more to Rhema.  He carried the armor, daggers, and morningstar away from the body.

When Rhema saw that Ischarus was done, she smiled once more at the gnoll that was under his control.  “See?  As I told you, your companion is unharmed.  We are taking your weapons and armor as payment for sparing his life.  If you go unarmed and unarmored, it also guarantees us that you will not cause any more trouble until we have seen this passage through to the other side.  Do you understand?”

The gnoll nodded slowly in an affirmative gesture.  “I understand.  You take items in trade for letting Farrung return to village with Traact.  I do not like losing, but I do like living.”

Rhema smiled at the simple logic of the gnoll.  While the gnoll at least had enough wisdom to love life over victory, this gnoll was clearly not one of the more intelligent gnolls to be born.  As she looked at him she almost had sympathy upon him for being the simple warrior muscle that his clan certainly must use him for.  She continued, “Farrung, your companion Traact is injured because he fought back.  He is not in danger of dying yet, but if he does not receive some help soon he may worsen.  Does you village have anyone who can heal?

Farrung nodded in the affirmative once more.  “My clan is blessed with six shaman.  One shaman sent Farrung and Traact to find you and bring you back to him.  Farrung will not go to that one to heal Traact.  Farrung will go to one more able to heal.”

Semeion rubbed his hand across his face as he listened to the slow and deliberate speech of the gnoll.  He breathed deeply and exhaled rather loudly as he glanced toward Ischarus.  The party’s fighter returned the loud exhale with a smile of his own.

Rhema looked pleased at Farrung’s answer and accounting of his clansmen’s abilities.  “You may get the body of Traact, Farrung.  If you approach the body slowly and do not come near my friends I promise they will not interfere with your task.  Be careful when you move you friend since he is wounded and should be handled gently whenever possible.  Do you understand?”

The gnoll nodded once more as it moved forward on its canine like legs.  Its face showed no sign of malice as it looked at Rhema and her friends, acknowledging to Ischarus and Semeion that Rhema’s power over the gnoll was still largely in effect.  Farrung gently lifted his fallen companion up off of the ground and turned once more to look at Rhema before heading down the tunnel.  

Once the gnoll had made his way off, Ischarus decided it was time to move once more.  “Get the armor and daggers while I pick up the larger gnoll’s armor and weapons.  Load them into Elistra’s saddlebags, and quickly.  Rhema’s powers will have little effect once the gnoll gets a certain distance away from us.  We don’t need to give it any excuse to turn back and fight for its companion’s honor.”

As Ischarus spoke, Semeion leapt into action and quickly gathered up the items, bringing them to Elistra’s saddlebags.  Ischarus moved down the tunnel a bit further and approached where Farrung had dropped his own equipment carefully.  When he was sure he wasn’t going to be blindsided from another attack he knelt to the ground and picked up the items.  

While the two men were gathering up the items, Rhema took Ischarus’ lantern and cautiously walked the direction that the gnoll headed, hoping that her subtle gesture would allow her control to last even a few seconds longer.  When she could no longer feel the gnoll’s thoughts and emotions in her mind she turned and quickly rejoined the party.  “He has moved beyond my control,” Rhema spoke hurriedly as Semeion finished loading the equipment into Elistra’s saddlebags.

Ischarus turned and nodded in Rhema’s direction.  His hand contained the stones that he had recovered from the armor of the gnoll.  He handed eight gold pieces, five pieces of obsidian, and three pieces of sardonyx to Rhema as she returned.  “Thanks for letting me know.  We must hurry, then.  Keep the stones with the funds we may need to pay for equipment and housing.”  Rhema nodded and easily stuffed the gemstones into her coin pouch.

Semeion reached for Thana’s reigns and prepared to follow Rhema and Shauvry once Ischarus moved.  He looked to Ischarus and questioned the urgency of Ischarus and Rhema.  “Are we in that much danger?  Won’t it take him some time to return Traact to the village?”

Ischarus turned to bark a response back to Semeion, but Rhema’s eyes intercepted his sharp look and her look softened his tone.  Without a word being spoken, Ischarus turned back around and set a brisk pace down the tunnel.  As Rhema started up with Shauvry she answered back to Semeion, “It isn’t that we are in immediate danger.  But I’m sure you were able to conclude that the shaman that Ischarus chased had sent two of his own back to hinder our movement – perhaps even bring our own heads back to the gnoll village in the shaman’s honor.  When the shaman realizes that the two he sent out to hinder our movement through the tunnels came back without their prize, the shaman will certainly send out more against us.  He might send out more than we can handle – certainly more than I can effect with the mind control effect that I am accustomed to using on the gnolls.”

Semeion thought for a moment and replied as he and Rhema hustled behind Ischarus.  “That makes sense.  How long do we have to get away?”

Rhema let out a short snort through her nose in a subtle laugh.  “The spider swarm attack came reasonably quickly after the shaman fled.  We can assume that their clan village is close – or at least a guarded outpost for tunnel control is near.  Either way, the threat is most likely quite near.”

Semeion replied, “If the threat was so close, then why did we let them go so easily?”

Rhema smiled as she knew Semeion was beginning to feel the inner turmoil of what it really meant to be good in one’s heart and not just neutral toward other people.  “We are freedom fighters, Semeion.  We are not judges in this world.  We have no right to declare guilt or innocence.  We all have the ability to perceive people as just or unjust, but honestly who are we to judge?  If we kill another life that has a mind capable of rationalization, are we any better than those who enslave the living in Quehalost?  If we want to truly be good and be considered freedom fighters, we cannot force our judgment of righteousness on anyone in terms of death.  To kill another being means that we did not do our job properly.  We can strike out and wound – knocking them unconscious.  We can control them telepathically as I do.  We can even try to convince others through a display of force that they really don’t desire to take on our challenge.  But we cannot kill another mind that is capable of rationalization.  The spider I killed could not grasp our purpose – it was in hunt mode.  It was either kill or be killed.  The gnolls are different, though.  By our refusing to kill them in spite of how badly they desired to kill us, we have brought justice and peace into their lives even for a short instant.”

Semeion did not reply as his mind churned through Rhema’s assertion about what their work entailed and how difficult it would be to live up to these standards of honoring life.  Sensing his internal quandary, Rhema changed the topic.  “How are you on magical abilities until we can find rest?”

Semeion closed his eyes for a moment and searched his mind.  With a slow and dramatic effort his eyelids reopened and he responded, “I have enough for another conflict or two.  Of course, I have these two new daggers to help out if the spells run out.”

Ischarus turned his head slightly to look at Rhema in response to Semeion’s overconfident gesture of combat effectiveness.  Rhema nodded slightly and concluded, “Semeion, you weren’t brought on this team because you can be an effective combatant.  Let us hope it does not come to that.”

The party continued on for the next several minutes in complete silence.  Only the striking of their feet and the horse hooves upon the tunnel floor interrupted their individual contemplation of Rhema’s words.  After a few minutes Ischarus uttered a quiet prayer that was soft enough so neither Rhema nor Semeion were able to hear it.  “Thank you for making her have mind-reading abilities and not abilities that allow her to know the future.”  A grim smile crossed his lips as the sarcastic prayer was finished.  Once the prayer was over he hustled even harder down the tunnel.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Ischarus lay on the floor for several minutes before eventually beginning some simple stretching exercises. A few minutes later he brought himself onto his hands and knees and then raised himself upright on a single knee. When he was sure that he wasn’t going to pass out he stood the rest of the way. Rhema stood beside him the whole time as if to catch him should he fall. Of course, given Ischarus’ weight and size compared to Rhema’s delicate figure Rhema would have simply ended up underneath Ischarus had that possibility unfolded.

Once he was sure that he was stable, Ischarus added, “We should probably hurry, I’ve wasted enough of our time here. If that gnoll managed to get back to his village and they’re not far from the main trail we can expect pursuit. We can handle a stray gnoll here and there, but I don’t think we have much of a desire to handle a gnoll retaliation effort. If they come in great numbers they could swarm us under.”

Semeion snorted out a bit of a laugh and looked to Rhema. She replied to his snort, “Unfortunately, he’s pretty serious about that one …”

Ischarus interrupted her. “I gave that gnoll a good scare. He was running for his life and he knew it. He might count himself lucky, but I doubt it. He’ll want to bring friends so he can watch me run.”

He reached out for the handle of his lantern and Elistra’s reigns. The ends of Shauvry’s reigns continued to provide light in addition to Ischarus’ lantern and he noticed this new light source as he turned to accept Elistra’s reigns from Rhema. “That’s a nice trick, Semeion. It at least keeps Rhema from having to follow in the dark.” His lips parted slightly in a pained smile as he turned around to start the trio moving forward once more.

Ischarus lead Rhema and Semeion through a maze of corridors underground. Semeion noted that at each and every turn there was no hesitation on the part of Ischarus. At each turn he knew precisely where to go in spite of the lack of markings and similarity to one another. Additionally, this deep under the mountain the air was terrifically still. Not even a gust of wind could be detected to alert them toward any directional sense. In spite of the lack of indicators, at every place for decision Ischarus decisively led the party forward.

The party walked for nearly an hour in near silence. The only thing that could be heard was the faint treading of their feet upon the ground and this clip of the horse hooves as they occasionally struck a rock underfoot. Suddenly the near silence was shattered by the dark uttering of a bass voice. “Daancrah Pashraak,” spoke an unknown voice in the darkness ahead.

Ischarus froze in his place for a split-second. Rhema instinctively froze as well. “Gnolls. Again,” Rhema cursed under her breath.

“Spell casters, too,” Semeion added. “I’d know the sound of that language anywhere.”

Before they realized what was upon them Rhema, Semeion, and Ischarus were completely covered in tiny spiders. The spiders seemed to swarm out of every crevasse in the ceiling, floor, and walls around them. The tiny spiders swarmed by the thousands over the three adventurers and their horses. The insect swarm was so thick that in only a matter of seconds the spiders had covered nearly every inch of their skin. The spider swarm grew so thick so quickly that before the adventurers could react there were spiders crawling upon the backs of the first layer of spiders. As Semeion looked around to Ischarus and Rhema he realized that the swarm was so intense that their skin was no longer visible through the dense mass of spiders.

Realizing that the effect was arcane in nature, Semeion commanded from the back of the group. “Move ahead now. And move ahead quickly. You must find the speaker of the words and disrupt his concentration – or outright kill him!”

Ischarus moved instinctively at Semeion’s shout; however his movement was more on account of the itching caused by the thousands of spiders crawling across his skin and clothing. The spiders swarmed over the adventurers as they attempted to find any means to sink their teeth into a patch of unprotected skin. Rhema quickly followed Ischarus. She was madly flailing her arms about, trying to shake the infernal spiders away from her arms. Her body was much more easily accessed than Ischarus’ body since Ischarus was dressed for battle and under armor. Ischarus managed to remove most of the tiny insects without being bitten often. Rhema was not as lucky as spider after spider found juicy flesh to sink its teeth into.

Still holding the reigns of Elistra, Ischarus charged down the tunnel in the direction from which the chanting had come. He knew that Elistra was being bitten as much if not more than he and Rhema. The horse hide was far thicker than their own skin, but the crawling motions of the spiders had obviously disturbed his unfortunate horse. Ischarus also knew that Rhema, Shauvry, Semeion, and Thana would have no chance against the swarm of spiders if Elistra continued to block the tunnel. He pulled the horse along as he tried to run down the tunnel.

As Ischarus charged, two large forms came into view. Both of them stood taller than he did and looked almost like jackals standing upright on two legs. As the enemy came into view Ischarus released Elistra’s reigns, drew his sword, and uttered a battle cry from deep within his person. “You will rue the day you attacked my companions, dogs!” The insult was a commentary on their hyena like faces than a standardized battle cry.

Rhema came quickly up behind Ischarus. She fled the swarm of insects as quickly as Ischarus could move away from it. Semeion breathed deeply and lowered his head, stepping just as quickly as Rhema could move through the affected area of spiders. Fortunately the spiders seemed to seethe around the tunnel in a small foot area, so Semeion and Thana were able to pass through with a reasonably easy amount of effort before too many arachnid hitchhikers could latch on and find an unprotected area.

As Rhema approached the back of Ischarus and Elistra she perceived the two gnolls that threatened Ischarus’ advance away from the spider swarm. With a simple gesture of her free hand she extended her index and middle finger outward toward the more warrior-like of the two gnolls. The gnoll saw her approach and she smiled broadly. Her thumb, ring finger, and pinky instinctively curled in towards her palm. Her mind began to harness its power and her eyes almost glistened as her thoughts came into reality. “You don’t want to harm us, gnoll. We’re too much of a serious challenge for you and you might actually get hurt. Drop your weapons and I’ll guarantee that my friend here doesn’t hurt you.”

The gnoll hesitated for a moment, gripping its own axe tightly in its left hand. As Rhema spoke her soothing words through the deep power of her mind, the gnoll’s grip on the axe loosened and its face revealed its own surprise as the axe fell from its hand. The gnoll also dropped the shield it was carrying and uttered a comment in a voice even more bass than the one which had called forth the horde of spiders, “I think are you correct. You might hurt me, I will not fight today.” The voice was one that struggled with the language spoken.

The other gnoll cursed loudly in its own language and yelled, “Farrung, what do you do?” In its own tongue it continued, “Bargrak drratch kratch, Farrung.” When the more warrior-like gnoll didn’t respond to the one who spoke, the gnoll refocused his attention onto Ischarus and readied a crude morningstar. The gnoll stepped toward Ischarus and swung the wooden shaft with a large stone at the top. Ischarus hoisted his shield up into the path of the oncoming morningstar and deflected the blow away from his body. The gnoll spat upon the ground as it knew it had missed with its first strike opportunity.

Ischarus yelled as the attack was deflected. “You’ll not get many better chances than that one, dog!” He used the momentum of his shield thrust to extend his sword in a straight jab towards the gnoll’s body. The gnoll sidestepped Ischarus’ blow and spun away from the attack, thinking about his next assault onto Ischarus.

Semeion joined the party, noting that after he passed through the spiders they had begun to dissipate and recede into the crevasses from which they had come. As Semeion caught up to Ischarus and Rhema, he noticed that about the same time as the spider had begun to recede the second gnoll had begun to attack Ischarus. “Tok-skrie Ah-su” Semeion shouted as he came into view of the gnolls. The gnoll that had been assaulting Ischarus began to grow, nearly doubling in size. The gnoll’s head slammed against the roof of the tunnel, sending a shower of dust and rock fragments onto the shorter Ischarus. Ischarus smiled at Semeion’s tactics. The gnoll was now far too large to maneuver effectively in the tunnel.

Rhema continued to talk to the gnoll that was beginning to fall under her soothing control. “You’re alright, gnoll. You made the right choice in dropping your weapon. You’ll live to fight another day. You’ll live to return back to your den. Leave the axe on the ground and no harm will come to you.”

The gnoll attacking Ischarus attempted a feeble swing with his now large morningstar. Ischarus easily dodged the attack, although the miss was more attributed to the fact that the gnoll bounced the morningstar off of the ceiling and the side of the tunnel before beginning a very ineffective swing. 

Ischarus smiled once more at Semeion’s previous tactical maneuver. He hoisted his sword once more in an attack against the gnoll and this time struck the much bigger target. The blow was tremendously placed – the flat of the blade impacted the gnoll’s exposed ribcage and then the sword cut down into the gnoll’s large thigh. The leg wound was not deep at all. Ischarus had designed the blow to impair the creature’s movement rather than try to kill it. Ischarus didn’t realize at first that the gnoll had been knocked unconscious by the strike against the ribcage, making the blow to the leg immediately unnecessary. The large gnoll fell to the cave floor and sprawled about the entire horizontal surface. Due to the enlarged creature’s great size made it impossible to move the horses further down the tunnel.

Rhema saw the beast fall and knew exactly what to say. “Semeion, can you dismiss your spell and return the creature to its normal size?” She immediately understood the logistical problem. Without even a word Semeion smiled and the gnoll gradually shrank back to a more normal size. The creature remained unconscious and lay still upon the ground.

Rhema turned to the remaining gnoll and said, “Listen to me. Your gnoll brother is not dead, merely wounded and unconscious. There is no need for him to die – nor for yourself. I think you should leave your armor and weapons on the floor and allow us to remove the weapons of your companion. If you allow us to do that, I can guarantee that no more harm will come to you or your friend. You can tell me you agree be removing your armor and leaving it on the ground with your axe and shield.”

The gnoll was well within Rhema’s mental grasp by this point. The creature would have likely obeyed any command she spoke short of jumping into a molten lava pool. The gnoll quickly began to unfasten the crude straps that held the armor securely around its body. In short order the creature left the pile of armor on the ground beside the shield and the sword. Rhema smiled at the gnoll and nodded to Ischarus.

Ischarus stowed his weapon and approached the wounded gnoll, stripping it of its morningstar. Ischarus also gently tugged on the straps that held this gnoll’s light leather armor in place. Even though the gnoll had been trying to kill him – and he had been trying to hurt the gnoll in return – it was obvious to Rhema and Semeion as they looked on that Ischarus had a deep respect for this gnoll’s life. Ischarus knew the gnoll was wounded badly and did not want to do anything else to injure the gnoll beyond what had already been done. 

As Ischarus undid the gnoll’s armor he also found a few useful stones within one of the pockets of the armor. Rather than pulling the stones out and revealing them to the gnoll who was watching him to make sure he did not abuse his companion, Ischarus merely noted their presence and made sure that as he removed the armor the stones stayed within the pocket of the armor. As the armor was gently taken off of the body of the wounded gnoll, Ischarus also discovered two daggers with rather ornately carved handles. It was obvious to Ischarus from their craftsmanship that these daggers were not of gnoll origin but most likely of dwarven make. As he removed the daggers Ischarus stood and nodded once more to Rhema. He carried the armor, daggers, and morningstar away from the body.

When Rhema saw that Ischarus was done, she smiled once more at the gnoll that was under his control. “See? As I told you, your companion is unharmed. We are taking your weapons and armor as payment for sparing his life. If you go unarmed and unarmored, it also guarantees us that you will not cause any more trouble until we have seen this passage through to the other side. Do you understand?”

The gnoll nodded slowly in an affirmative gesture. “I understand. You take items in trade for letting Farrung return to village with Traact. I do not like losing, but I do like living.”

Rhema smiled at the simple logic of the gnoll. While the gnoll at least had enough wisdom to love life over victory, this gnoll was clearly not one of the more intelligent gnolls to be born. As she looked at him she almost had sympathy upon him for being the simple warrior muscle that his clan certainly must use him for. She continued, “Farrung, your companion Traact is injured because he fought back. He is not in danger of dying yet, but if he does not receive some help soon he may worsen. Does you village have anyone who can heal?

Farrung nodded in the affirmative once more. “My clan is blessed with six shaman. One shaman sent Farrung and Traact to find you and bring you back to him. Farrung will not go to that one to heal Traact. Farrung will go to one more able to heal.”

Semeion rubbed his hand across his face as he listened to the slow and deliberate speech of the gnoll. He breathed deeply and exhaled rather loudly as he glanced toward Ischarus. The party’s fighter returned the loud exhale with a smile of his own.

Rhema looked pleased at Farrung’s answer and accounting of his clansmen’s abilities. “You may get the body of Traact, Farrung. If you approach the body slowly and do not come near my friends I promise they will not interfere with your task. Be careful when you move you friend since he is wounded and should be handled gently whenever possible. Do you understand?”

The gnoll nodded once more as it moved forward on its canine like legs. Its face showed no sign of malice as it looked at Rhema and her friends, acknowledging to Ischarus and Semeion that Rhema’s power over the gnoll was still largely in effect. Farrung gently lifted his fallen companion up off of the ground and turned once more to look at Rhema before heading down the tunnel. 

Once the gnoll had made his way off, Ischarus decided it was time to move once more. “Get the armor and daggers while I pick up the larger gnoll’s armor and weapons. Load them into Elistra’s saddlebags, and quickly. Rhema’s powers will have little effect once the gnoll gets a certain distance away from us. We don’t need to give it any excuse to turn back and fight for its companion’s honor.”

As Ischarus spoke, Semeion leapt into action and quickly gathered up the items, bringing them to Elistra’s saddlebags. Ischarus moved down the tunnel a bit further and approached where Farrung had dropped his own equipment carefully. When he was sure he wasn’t going to be blindsided from another attack he knelt to the ground and picked up the items. 

While the two men were gathering up the items, Rhema took Ischarus’ lantern and cautiously walked the direction that the gnoll headed, hoping that her subtle gesture would allow her control to last even a few seconds longer. When she could no longer feel the gnoll’s thoughts and emotions in her mind she turned and quickly rejoined the party. “He has moved beyond my control,” Rhema spoke hurriedly as Semeion finished loading the equipment into Elistra’s saddlebags.

Ischarus turned and nodded in Rhema’s direction. His hand contained the stones that he had recovered from the armor of the gnoll. He handed eight gold pieces, five pieces of obsidian, and three pieces of sardonyx to Rhema as she returned. “Thanks for letting me know. We must hurry, then. Keep the stones with the funds we may need to pay for equipment and housing.” Rhema nodded and easily stuffed the gemstones into her coin pouch.

Semeion reached for Thana’s reigns and prepared to follow Rhema and Shauvry once Ischarus moved. He looked to Ischarus and questioned the urgency of Ischarus and Rhema. “Are we in that much danger? Won’t it take him some time to return Traact to the village?”

Ischarus turned to bark a response back to Semeion, but Rhema’s eyes intercepted his sharp look and her look softened his tone. Without a word being spoken, Ischarus turned back around and set a brisk pace down the tunnel. As Rhema started up with Shauvry she answered back to Semeion, “It isn’t that we are in immediate danger. But I’m sure you were able to conclude that the shaman that Ischarus chased had sent two of his own back to hinder our movement – perhaps even bring our own heads back to the gnoll village in the shaman’s honor. When the shaman realizes that the two he sent out to hinder our movement through the tunnels came back without their prize, the shaman will certainly send out more against us. He might send out more than we can handle – certainly more than I can effect with the mind control effect that I am accustomed to using on the gnolls.”

Semeion thought for a moment and replied as he and Rhema hustled behind Ischarus. “That makes sense. How long do we have to get away?”

Rhema let out a short snort through her nose in a subtle laugh. “The spider swarm attack came reasonably quickly after the shaman fled. We can assume that their clan village is close – or at least a guarded outpost for tunnel control is near. Either way, the threat is most likely quite near.”

Semeion replied, “If the threat was so close, then why did we let them go so easily?”

Rhema smiled as she knew Semeion was beginning to feel the inner turmoil of what it really meant to be good in one’s heart and not just neutral toward other people. “We are freedom fighters, Semeion. We are not judges in this world. We have no right to declare guilt or innocence. We all have the ability to perceive people as just or unjust, but honestly who are we to judge? If we kill another life that has a mind capable of rationalization, are we any better than those who enslave the living in Quehalost? If we want to truly be good and be considered freedom fighters, we cannot force our judgment of righteousness on anyone in terms of death. To kill another being means that we did not do our job properly. We can strike out and wound – knocking them unconscious. We can control them telepathically as I do. We can even try to convince others through a display of force that they really don’t desire to take on our challenge. But we cannot kill another mind that is capable of rationalization. The spider I killed could not grasp our purpose – it was in hunt mode. It was either kill or be killed. The gnolls are different, though. By our refusing to kill them in spite of how badly they desired to kill us, we have brought justice and peace into their lives even for a short instant.”

Semeion did not reply as his mind churned through Rhema’s assertion about what their work entailed and how difficult it would be to live up to these standards of honoring life. Sensing his internal quandary, Rhema changed the topic. “How are you on magical abilities until we can find rest?”

Semeion closed his eyes for a moment and searched his mind. With a slow and dramatic effort his eyelids reopened and he responded, “I have enough for another conflict or two. Of course, I have these two new daggers to help out if the spells run out.”

Ischarus turned his head slightly to look at Rhema in response to Semeion’s overconfident gesture of combat effectiveness. Rhema nodded slightly and concluded, “Semeion, you weren’t brought on this team because you can be an effective combatant. Let us hope it does not come to that.”

The party continued on for the next several minutes in complete silence. Only the striking of their feet and the horse hooves upon the tunnel floor interrupted their individual contemplation of Rhema’s words. After a few minutes Ischarus uttered a quiet prayer that was soft enough so neither Rhema nor Semeion were able to hear it. “Thank you for making her have mind-reading abilities and not abilities that allow her to know the future.” A grim smile crossed his lips as the sarcastic prayer was finished. Once the prayer was over he hustled even harder down the tunnel.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (May 10, 2006)

After hustling down the various dark and damp corridors of the mountain for almost an hour, Rhema called out for a breather.  “Ischarus, please!”  Her voice sounded out of breath as she paused between nearly every other word.  “We’ve been hustling for some time now.  Can we slow our pace at least a little?”

Without turning to stop and look to his companions, Ischarus slowed his footfalls to a walk.  His stride still insisted that the walk was reasonably brisk, but it was at least a walk.  Elistra sent an appreciative snort through a set of flared nostrils that echoed down the passageway.  Ischarus managed a smile and reached up with his hand to rub the short-haired bristly nose of his mount.  “That’s a good girl, Elistra.  You can relax now, the trot is over.  We’ll walk you down and let you cool off for a bit.”

Taking up the final position, Semeion was able to close the slight gap that he had allowed to open between himself and Rhema.  It wasn’t so much that he desired to have the gap; it was more that his body conditioning wasn’t near what Rhema and Ischarus were used to doing.  He continued the slight jog until her caught up to Rhema and Shauvry.

Several more hours of walking passed and the party became confident that they had managed to outmaneuver any pursuit that may have been following them.  Of course, there was always the possibility that there was no pursuit and they were taxing their bodies for no apparent reason.  The tunnel that the party was heading down opened into a larger underground cavern.  The cavern appeared as though it was natural in its creation, but there were definite signs that some time ago the cavern had been expanded by pick and shovel.  The cavern had the look of an intelligent excavation – this was no large random animal desiring to make a den.  Nor was this the work of a long since dried up river.  At some point in the not-to-distant past this cavern had some type of significance.

“We’re here a little on the early side, aren’t we, Ischarus?” Rhema asked as her eyes took in the cavern.  The light from Ischarus’ lantern illuminated the walls, but the very top of the ceiling was lost in the darkness.

Ischarus also looked around at the walls before replying.  “Yeah.  That hustle away from the gnolls drove us here a little more quickly than typical.  But we’re here so we should rest.  There isn’t another place to rest until tomorrow night.  If we pass this one up we’re going to walking for some time before it’s safe to stop again.”

Semeion looked a bit puzzled.  “You mean we’re going to spend our time resting in this big cavern?  Isn’t that just a bit on the obvious side?  Sounds to me like an invitation to trouble if you ask me.”

Rhema chuckled as Ischarus answered.  “Well, if we were actually staying in the cavern your caution would have merit, Semeion.  However, over here you will notice something rather special.”

Ischarus shone the lantern toward the left wall and Semeion could see that among the jagged rock edges of the natural wall was what appeared to be an excavated section.  An arch opened at an odd angle between two outcroppings of rock.  The arch was obviously cut in such a way as to make it as hidden as possible against the natural formations of rock around it.

Ischarus explained what Semeion saw for the first time.  “The hole leads to a natural shelter against the foot traffic of the cavern.  The arch leads to a decently sized cave – large enough to bed a few horses for the rest and allow us to sleep for a spell.”

Semeion wrinkled his eyebrows as his mind puzzled over the strange creation.  “Doesn’t it get occupied frequently?”

Rhema took her turn answering his question.  “Not as frequently as you might think, Semeion.  Remember where we are headed.  Thos who dwell under the mountains typically have their own lairs.  Those who are heading away from Quehalost are not about to stop and pause for rest unless there is a large number.  The typical person fleeing Quehalost is usually on his or her own and panicked.  They probably wouldn’t even notice such a place on their way through.  Of course, adding to the hysteria of knowing that they are pursued, those fleeing Quehalost are at the disadvantage of also not knowing their way through the tunnels like we do.  That leaves only people like us who are heading into Quehalost.  Of course, there aren’t many who are crazy enough to voluntarily head into Quehalost.”  A wry smile passed over her lips as she spoke the words.

Semeion responded, “Yeah, I guess not,” spoke Semeion as he began to think through Rhema’s assertion.  There was a reason people didn’t try to steal their way into Quehalost.  The reality of that situation began to sink into his mind.

Rhema’s words broke into Semeion’s introspection.  “Come on, Ischarus.  We’re wasting time now.  Give me Elistra’s reigns while you go in and check out the cavern to make sure it is suitable.  Or, make sure it is at least unoccupied.”

Semeion swallowed hard as another moment of reality poured over him.  He looked to Rhema and Ischarus as they seemed to remain so calm about being underground in the absolute darkness.  Of course, he knew that they had done this many times over.  That fact didn’t work to ease his mind much, however.

Ischarus took the lantern and entered into the side cave.  As his light passed through the arch, the main cavern became patch black.  Shauvry and Thana snorted and jostled nervously.  Rhema remained silent but the sound of her hand lightly patting Shauvry on her neck could be heard.  In less than a minute light shined back out of the cave entrance as Ischarus made his way back.  The light burst forth into the darkness and Ischarus popped his head out of the entrance.

“Except for a few spiders and other creepy crawling animals, the place looks clear.  I think we’ll do fine to rest here for as long as we need.”

The party gathered in the room and spread out their bedrolls and mats to make an effective barrier against any potential wandering that the horses might try while the party slept.  Of course they set a watch, but having the horses secure would mean a much easier job for the sentry.  With the watch set, the time for resting passed by rather uneventfully.

Several more days passed by as the party journeyed through the underground tunnels below the steep mountains.  Ischarus knew of several more direct routes – routes that they would probably take on the way back.  But they were in no particular hurry to get into Quehalost so they took the safest passages on the journey in.  

Towards nightfall on the third day Ischarus broke the quiet introspective mood that had overtaken the party given the depressive effect from the removal of the sun from their lives.  “I think we’re close now, Rhema.  Within a half hour, perhaps?”

Rhema replied, “I think you are correct, Ischarus.  This looks about right, although it feels as though this trip was shorter than the ones I am used to.  Perhaps having the extra security of an additional person has allowed us to move more quickly?

Semeion interjected his own conjecture over the others’ experience.  “And made the rests easier.  It’s a lot easier to get rested up when you can sleep for two watches rather than alternating them.”

Rhema nodded in agreement.  It took no leap of understanding to realize that the rest periods did seem much more refreshing than she remembered from other trips.  After the short interruption in the silence the party returned to the silence for the rest of the trip.

The rest of the underground journey passed quickly and within the hour Ischarus pointed ahead.  “It looks like it is dusk outside.  That’ll work in our favor as our eyes won’t need to adjust to the bright light outside the mountains.  The dimming light of the sun will help us make the next stage before we can rest once more.

The trio exited the cave and emerged into the relatively thick forest that grew all along the south side of the mountain range.  The tunnel they used to exit the underground was not nearly as high in altitude as the tunnel they used to enter on the other side.  The clear advantage of this tunnel was the fact that their exit was immediately camouflaged to any of the denizens of Quehalost.  Their exit from the bowels of the mountain was marked merely by a few birds and a particularly chattering squirrel.  

None of the chattering from the forest animals caused Ischarus any concern as he encouraged his companions.  “We should really mount up and ride to our next resting place.  We’ll make better use of the darkness on horseback, and I’m sure the horses wouldn’t mind stretching their legs with a bit of a trot or canter.”

Ischarus softly rubbed Elistra’s long muzzle and even leaned in for a simply kiss just above the horse’s nostrils.  ”Let’s get some distance between us and the caves, eh girl?  We’ll give you a chance to stretch before we bed for the night.”

As Ischarus climbed into the saddle using the proper balance necessary to bring him and his light armor balanced into position, Rhema merely smiled and with a graceful jump she leapt almost seemed to slither up the horse’s side and into the saddle.  Semeion placed both hands on the saddle horn and with less grace than Rhema used his legs and arms to bring himself up.

“Shauvry knows the way, Semeion.  Have Thana follow as before.”

Rhema took the lead once more and Ischarus and Semeion rode side-by-side behind her as they had done on the trip from Reignsburg to Scarhaus.  The next little stretch of riding passed by easily and eventually they came to the spot that Ischarus desired to use as a resting point.  The canopy of the forest was particularly thick and the trees seemed to provide a natural place for a rest.  Ischarus nodded to Semeion to advance before him and into the secluded spot.

As Semeion dug his heels into Thana’s side to get her to move ahead of Elistra, Semeion heard the sound of quick moving armor and the ring of steel from directly behind him.  Rhema heard it also and spun Shauvry around in a quick circle.

“What’s wrong, Ischarus?” she asked loudly over the ring of metal.  When she turned she saw that Ischarus had dismounted and stood with sword and shield at the ready.  Ischarus looked as though he was fully intending on ignoring Rhema’s question.

The party’s sword master spoke into the darkness.  “I know you’ve been following us for some time, stranger.  Your lack of bathing betrays you every time we head up a hill.  Come out and face me if you desire to follow us any further!”

At the sound of Ischarus’ voice Semeion also spun Thana around and contemplated dismounting.  Rhema saw his movement and replied, “No, Semeion.  You may need to ride hard depending on what Ischarus has sensed.  Stay on your mount as often as possible in Quehalost.”  This last sentence was clearly more of a command than friendly advice.

A hidden voice yelled a curse towards Ischarus.  “May Grixanthrosiliss consume your bones, challenger!”

Rhema and Semeion watched as a strange green glow seemed to appear and surround Ischarus.  The green glow was absorbed by Ischarus’ armor and skin and seemed to disappear.

Ischarus replied boldly as the magical effect took hold of him.  “Your evil magic tricks will not work on me, hidden one.  You’ll have to do better than that affect me!”

A large man stepped out from behind the brush along the side of the road.  “I’ll not need to do better than that, fool.  You have already been affected.  I will kill you first and then move on to your weaker friends which you protect.”

Ischarus laughed out loud and then spoke again.  He had little desire to have this come to a fight without knowing why lives were being put at stake.  “Then it was a mighty pitiful affect, because I feel no different, fool.  Tell me – who sent you after us.  Which false king of the land do you serve?”

The man steadied his large sword and held it at the level of Ischarus’ chest as he slowly closed the distance between them.  “I serve the one from which you have stolen.  He has given me the power to bring you to your knees.”

This time it was Rhema who laughed at the man’s words.  “Stealing is a word open to interpretation based on your position.  But from your perspective we have stolen from many in this land to set them free in another.  So tell us, of the false lords that we have stolen from, which one do you serve?”

The large man focused his attention over Ischarus’ left shoulder upon Rhema.  “I serve the true lord of Quehalost and soon the ruler of Enigmatica, Grixanthrosilithiss.”

Semeion and Ischarus both snorted at the same time.  It was Ischarus who spoke.  “That sounds like a dragon’s name if I ever heard of one.  But tell me, fool, who is this false lord you serve for I have never even heard of his name.”

The large man smiled grimly.  “You will.  All will bow or be forced to feel the wrath of the lick of his flames.”

Rhema smiled.  “The red one, then.  In fact, he was the last one we freed a servant girl from.  I believe you were going to offer her up as a sacrifice!” Rhema said with a rising fire in her voice.

The man growled in anger.  “Then it was indeed you who stole from our master.  We have felt his wrath ever since.  Only tomorrow will we be free of his wrath, especially when I bring him your severed heads.  Then the name of Druff will be honored with the name of Charis.”

Semeion interjected, “Charis is a female name meaning grace.  Are we to assume that you are Druff, then?”

The man turned and leveled his sword towards Semeion.  “I suppose it is only fitting that you know the name of the one who is going to slay you.  Druff is my name, and Charis will be the new Provenience as our dragon father demanded in exchange for the one you stole as a sacrifice.  Charis will be honored highly.”

Ischarus spat at the words of the opposition.  “Then you are Drakontos, then?  You are the child of dragon breeding.”

Semeion shot Rhema a quick glance revealing that he had no knowledge of the Drakontos in spite of his arcane studies.  Rhema ignored his glance, choosing to focus on the man instead.

The man smiled and added, “Indeed.  The blood of dragons is in these veins, and my dragon tainted blood will relish in the spilling of your feeble human blood.  The time for talk is over!”

The man pulled the sword back and prepared to step forward and swing away.  Ischarus was prepared for this as he had felt the man’s anger fueling his words more each time he spoke.  As Druff stepped forward Ischarus held out his own blade with a quick jab.  Druff easily batted the sword away and Ischarus’ half-hearted attempt to stop the battle early was spoiled.

Semeion would waste no time or effort allowing the weapon wielders to trade blows.  “Thin-tok” he spoke with purpose.  The familiar light blue energy ball formed between his palm and his outstretched fingers and shot forth to strike Druff.  The ball dodged to the left of Ischarus and then jerked to the right again to strike the enemy in the chest.  The Drakontos grimaced at the pain but continued his attack against Ischarus.

Rhema knew that charming the Drakontos was a risky maneuver, especially since the green glow had seemingly taken effect upon Ischarus’ ability to fight.  She lifted a finger to her head once again and focused hard on the opposition in much the same way that she had done against the gnoll shaman’s spider pet underground.  As she focused, Druff released the handle of his weapon and it fell hard to the ground.  His hands shot toward his head and gripped them while his face contorted in writhing pain.  After what seemed to be an eternity of pain, the Drakontos dropped completely to the ground.  Rhema looked on with deep concern as he dropped to the ground.

Rhema looked on with concern.  “Ischarus … he’s not … is he?”  Her breaths became shallow as Ischarus stowed his sword to check on Druff’s status.  

Ischarus cautiously knelt beside the Drakontos and took off one of his own gauntlets.  He held his hand over the mouth of the Drakontos and looked up to Rhema.  “He is breathing, rest easy.  You have not killed him.”

Rhema interrupted Ischarus as he tried to calm her down.  “It was just that … with the green glow and everything … and he seemed to turn aside your strike so easily …”

Ischarus raised an outstretched hand up to Rhema indicating for her to remain quiet.  “Semeion, could you bring me some of the rope that Elistra carries?  I’d get it myself but I don’t want to turn my back on Druff, here.”

Semeion nodded and dismounted.  As he brought Ischarus the rope he caught the fighter’s eyes and asked, “You know about the Drakontos?  I have never heard of them.  And he looked so human!”

Ischarus smiled and looked down to Druff.  “I suppose in a manner of speaking, Druff and I are a strange sort of family, Semeion.  Because I bet you think I look human, too.

Semeion gave Ischarus a puzzled glance but didn’t address him further.

Instead, Ischarus continued his explanation.  “The Drakontos are a race created by dragons to serve the dragon, love the dragon, or fear the dragon depending on what type of dragon it is.  The evil dragons find the human race pliable enough to reproduce with them and taint their hearts toward evil.  Sure, the first generation and second generation of dragon born have a more ghastly draconic presence.  Often they have horns – or even bony frill coming up out of their skull.  They are far stronger than humans, but they are also much more stubborn and less able to master a variety of purposes.  When these dragon born are reintroduced into human society and bred with more humans, eventually the dragon bloodline is diluted enough that the noticeable differences fade.”

Semeion studied Ischarus’ face hard as he spoke.  Once he had finished speaking, Ischarus went to work on tying Druff up and inserting a gag into his mouth so that he was able to breath through his nose but unable to alert anyone through the night. 

As Ischarus worked, Semeion continued to ask Ischarus of the dragon blooded.  “And you are one of these dragon born?  You mean that somewhere back in your heritage is the same red dragon that bore Druff’s ancestors?”

Ischarus chuckled slightly.  “No, Semeion.  Fortunately I was not given that fate.  Most Drakontos born to evil dragons live a life of personal enslavement.  So long as they are useful to the dragon they are allowed to live.  As they age, they are often offered up as sacrifices before they can become feeble.  The evil dragon societies are adept at brainwashing these Drakontos that it is better to return to the master through his stomach than to die a useless form on the earth.  Rather than be a burden on their society, they become food.”

“And this is what is to become of Charis?  She will become food?  We’ve got to do something!”

Rhema spoke up and asserted her opinion after being silent for some time.  “That’s the Semeion I knew was inside.  That’s the fire that drives us through the mountain each and every time.  Now you understand.”

Before Semeion could respond to Rhema, Ischarus answered Semeion’s most recent assertion.  “Unfortunately, death would be more welcome than what she is to become.  She is to be their new Provenience.  Charis will be the mother of the dragon’s next round of dragon born.  She will bear the children of the red dragon she serves under until he is finished with her services.  Once she is beyond childbearing age she will be consumed and the people will hold a great festival in her honor.  She is brainwashed into bearing clutches of four to five dragon blooded children each time.  The stress on her body will be incredible.  And all of her children will in turn bear more and more children.”

“But, why does the red dragon need more?  If his whole tribe is dragon blooded, they should not loose the concentration of blood in their line.  They should be able to simply reproduce and maintain what the dragon desires.”

Rhema sighed heavily and Ischarus shot her a hard glance.  “Unfortunately, we are held at least partially responsible.  The dragon must have been angry with his people and demanded a sacrifice.  When we rescued the last sacrifice the dragon must have demanded a young virgin.  By allowing us to free that sacrifice the dragon most likely became incensed.  The people don’t know it, but they are about to become exterminated – or at least reduced in numbers greatly.  The people have failed their dragon once too often and the red must think it is time to start over.”

A silence was cast across the party as Ischarus finished his work.  The horse that Druff had been using to follow the trio had begun to make movements in the brush and Rhema was alerted to the noise.  “I’ll go retrieve it,” she added with a nod and she turned Shauvry in that general direction.  “You two finish up.  I think Semeion has another question.”

Ischarus looked up to Semeion, who asked, “So, if you are a Drakontos, then you escaped?”

Ischarus shook his in return.  “No, my master was not an evil dragon.  He is a great silver dragon.  He did not create us to be his slaves, but rather he created us to help bring a utopian society into existence.  He knew that the hearts of humans strayed as often to evil as to good.  Perhaps they stray more to evil than to good.  My father dragon believes that the noblest way to guide the world is through the creation of us as his servants.  He raises us and cares for us and sends us into the world to make a difference.  We are his agents of change and good in the world.  One day after prayer my own dragon father decided to send one of his servants into Quehalost to observe the dangers growing in the land.  Of course, my dragon father was particularly afraid of the growing draconic strength.  That was my very first mission and I have come back ever since.  I do not target the dragons and their Drakontos society specifically; but I would also be lying if I told you that I do not seek every opportunity to save a Drakontos from the grips of the evil from their own dragon father.”

Semeion nodded as he tried to absorb all of the new information.  It seemed nearly inconceivable that this man before him was Drakontos and knew a silver dragon personally.  As his mouth hung slightly agape, Rhema returned with the fourth horse.  She smirked knowing that Ischarus had startled Semeion with his story.

Ischarus stood, lifting Druff from the ground.  “Come, we should rest while Druff is unconscious.  His horse will be useful, especially if we are able to rescue Charis.  I believe that should be our goal.  If we stop the red from mating with Charis we will have interfered substantially.  Your dragon father would be proud.” 

Weary from the journey, the new information, and the combat the party headed in silence to the alcove where they established a quick watch and prepared to sleep the night away.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
After hustling down the various dark and damp corridors of the mountain for almost an hour, Rhema called out for a breather. “Ischarus, please!” Her voice sounded out of breath as she paused between nearly every other word. “We’ve been hustling for some time now. Can we slow our pace at least a little?”

Without turning to stop and look to his companions, Ischarus slowed his footfalls to a walk. His stride still insisted that the walk was reasonably brisk, but it was at least a walk. Elistra sent an appreciative snort through a set of flared nostrils that echoed down the passageway. Ischarus managed a smile and reached up with his hand to rub the short-haired bristly nose of his mount. “That’s a good girl, Elistra. You can relax now, the trot is over. We’ll walk you down and let you cool off for a bit.”

Taking up the final position, Semeion was able to close the slight gap that he had allowed to open between himself and Rhema. It wasn’t so much that he desired to have the gap; it was more that his body conditioning wasn’t near what Rhema and Ischarus were used to doing. He continued the slight jog until her caught up to Rhema and Shauvry.

Several more hours of walking passed and the party became confident that they had managed to outmaneuver any pursuit that may have been following them. Of course, there was always the possibility that there was no pursuit and they were taxing their bodies for no apparent reason. The tunnel that the party was heading down opened into a larger underground cavern. The cavern appeared as though it was natural in its creation, but there were definite signs that some time ago the cavern had been expanded by pick and shovel. The cavern had the look of an intelligent excavation – this was no large random animal desiring to make a den. Nor was this the work of a long since dried up river. At some point in the not-to-distant past this cavern had some type of significance.

“We’re here a little on the early side, aren’t we, Ischarus?” Rhema asked as her eyes took in the cavern. The light from Ischarus’ lantern illuminated the walls, but the very top of the ceiling was lost in the darkness.

Ischarus also looked around at the walls before replying. “Yeah. That hustle away from the gnolls drove us here a little more quickly than typical. But we’re here so we should rest. There isn’t another place to rest until tomorrow night. If we pass this one up we’re going to walking for some time before it’s safe to stop again.”

Semeion looked a bit puzzled. “You mean we’re going to spend our time resting in this big cavern? Isn’t that just a bit on the obvious side? Sounds to me like an invitation to trouble if you ask me.”

Rhema chuckled as Ischarus answered. “Well, if we were actually staying in the cavern your caution would have merit, Semeion. However, over here you will notice something rather special.”

Ischarus shone the lantern toward the left wall and Semeion could see that among the jagged rock edges of the natural wall was what appeared to be an excavated section. An arch opened at an odd angle between two outcroppings of rock. The arch was obviously cut in such a way as to make it as hidden as possible against the natural formations of rock around it.

Ischarus explained what Semeion saw for the first time. “The hole leads to a natural shelter against the foot traffic of the cavern. The arch leads to a decently sized cave – large enough to bed a few horses for the rest and allow us to sleep for a spell.”

Semeion wrinkled his eyebrows as his mind puzzled over the strange creation. “Doesn’t it get occupied frequently?”

Rhema took her turn answering his question. “Not as frequently as you might think, Semeion. Remember where we are headed. Thos who dwell under the mountains typically have their own lairs. Those who are heading away from Quehalost are not about to stop and pause for rest unless there is a large number. The typical person fleeing Quehalost is usually on his or her own and panicked. They probably wouldn’t even notice such a place on their way through. Of course, adding to the hysteria of knowing that they are pursued, those fleeing Quehalost are at the disadvantage of also not knowing their way through the tunnels like we do. That leaves only people like us who are heading into Quehalost. Of course, there aren’t many who are crazy enough to voluntarily head into Quehalost.” A wry smile passed over her lips as she spoke the words.

Semeion responded, “Yeah, I guess not,” spoke Semeion as he began to think through Rhema’s assertion. There was a reason people didn’t try to steal their way into Quehalost. The reality of that situation began to sink into his mind.

Rhema’s words broke into Semeion’s introspection. “Come on, Ischarus. We’re wasting time now. Give me Elistra’s reigns while you go in and check out the cavern to make sure it is suitable. Or, make sure it is at least unoccupied.”

Semeion swallowed hard as another moment of reality poured over him. He looked to Rhema and Ischarus as they seemed to remain so calm about being underground in the absolute darkness. Of course, he knew that they had done this many times over. That fact didn’t work to ease his mind much, however.

Ischarus took the lantern and entered into the side cave. As his light passed through the arch, the main cavern became patch black. Shauvry and Thana snorted and jostled nervously. Rhema remained silent but the sound of her hand lightly patting Shauvry on her neck could be heard. In less than a minute light shined back out of the cave entrance as Ischarus made his way back. The light burst forth into the darkness and Ischarus popped his head out of the entrance.

“Except for a few spiders and other creepy crawling animals, the place looks clear. I think we’ll do fine to rest here for as long as we need.”

The party gathered in the room and spread out their bedrolls and mats to make an effective barrier against any potential wandering that the horses might try while the party slept. Of course they set a watch, but having the horses secure would mean a much easier job for the sentry. With the watch set, the time for resting passed by rather uneventfully.

Several more days passed by as the party journeyed through the underground tunnels below the steep mountains. Ischarus knew of several more direct routes – routes that they would probably take on the way back. But they were in no particular hurry to get into Quehalost so they took the safest passages on the journey in. 

Towards nightfall on the third day Ischarus broke the quiet introspective mood that had overtaken the party given the depressive effect from the removal of the sun from their lives. “I think we’re close now, Rhema. Within a half hour, perhaps?”

Rhema replied, “I think you are correct, Ischarus. This looks about right, although it feels as though this trip was shorter than the ones I am used to. Perhaps having the extra security of an additional person has allowed us to move more quickly?

Semeion interjected his own conjecture over the others’ experience. “And made the rests easier. It’s a lot easier to get rested up when you can sleep for two watches rather than alternating them.”

Rhema nodded in agreement. It took no leap of understanding to realize that the rest periods did seem much more refreshing than she remembered from other trips. After the short interruption in the silence the party returned to the silence for the rest of the trip.

The rest of the underground journey passed quickly and within the hour Ischarus pointed ahead. “It looks like it is dusk outside. That’ll work in our favor as our eyes won’t need to adjust to the bright light outside the mountains. The dimming light of the sun will help us make the next stage before we can rest once more.

The trio exited the cave and emerged into the relatively thick forest that grew all along the south side of the mountain range. The tunnel they used to exit the underground was not nearly as high in altitude as the tunnel they used to enter on the other side. The clear advantage of this tunnel was the fact that their exit was immediately camouflaged to any of the denizens of Quehalost. Their exit from the bowels of the mountain was marked merely by a few birds and a particularly chattering squirrel. 

None of the chattering from the forest animals caused Ischarus any concern as he encouraged his companions. “We should really mount up and ride to our next resting place. We’ll make better use of the darkness on horseback, and I’m sure the horses wouldn’t mind stretching their legs with a bit of a trot or canter.”

Ischarus softly rubbed Elistra’s long muzzle and even leaned in for a simply kiss just above the horse’s nostrils. ”Let’s get some distance between us and the caves, eh girl? We’ll give you a chance to stretch before we bed for the night.”

As Ischarus climbed into the saddle using the proper balance necessary to bring him and his light armor balanced into position, Rhema merely smiled and with a graceful jump she leapt almost seemed to slither up the horse’s side and into the saddle. Semeion placed both hands on the saddle horn and with less grace than Rhema used his legs and arms to bring himself up.

“Shauvry knows the way, Semeion. Have Thana follow as before.”

Rhema took the lead once more and Ischarus and Semeion rode side-by-side behind her as they had done on the trip from Reignsburg to Scarhaus. The next little stretch of riding passed by easily and eventually they came to the spot that Ischarus desired to use as a resting point. The canopy of the forest was particularly thick and the trees seemed to provide a natural place for a rest. Ischarus nodded to Semeion to advance before him and into the secluded spot.

As Semeion dug his heels into Thana’s side to get her to move ahead of Elistra, Semeion heard the sound of quick moving armor and the ring of steel from directly behind him. Rhema heard it also and spun Shauvry around in a quick circle.

“What’s wrong, Ischarus?” she asked loudly over the ring of metal. When she turned she saw that Ischarus had dismounted and stood with sword and shield at the ready. Ischarus looked as though he was fully intending on ignoring Rhema’s question.

The party’s sword master spoke into the darkness. “I know you’ve been following us for some time, stranger. Your lack of bathing betrays you every time we head up a hill. Come out and face me if you desire to follow us any further!”

At the sound of Ischarus’ voice Semeion also spun Thana around and contemplated dismounting. Rhema saw his movement and replied, “No, Semeion. You may need to ride hard depending on what Ischarus has sensed. Stay on your mount as often as possible in Quehalost.” This last sentence was clearly more of a command than friendly advice.

A hidden voice yelled a curse towards Ischarus. “May Grixanthrosiliss consume your bones, challenger!”

Rhema and Semeion watched as a strange green glow seemed to appear and surround Ischarus. The green glow was absorbed by Ischarus’ armor and skin and seemed to disappear.

Ischarus replied boldly as the magical effect took hold of him. “Your evil magic tricks will not work on me, hidden one. You’ll have to do better than that affect me!”

A large man stepped out from behind the brush along the side of the road. “I’ll not need to do better than that, fool. You have already been affected. I will kill you first and then move on to your weaker friends which you protect.”

Ischarus laughed out loud and then spoke again. He had little desire to have this come to a fight without knowing why lives were being put at stake. “Then it was a mighty pitiful affect, because I feel no different, fool. Tell me – who sent you after us. Which false king of the land do you serve?”

The man steadied his large sword and held it at the level of Ischarus’ chest as he slowly closed the distance between them. “I serve the one from which you have stolen. He has given me the power to bring you to your knees.”

This time it was Rhema who laughed at the man’s words. “Stealing is a word open to interpretation based on your position. But from your perspective we have stolen from many in this land to set them free in another. So tell us, of the false lords that we have stolen from, which one do you serve?”

The large man focused his attention over Ischarus’ left shoulder upon Rhema. “I serve the true lord of Quehalost and soon the ruler of Enigmatica, Grixanthrosilithiss.”

Semeion and Ischarus both snorted at the same time. It was Ischarus who spoke. “That sounds like a dragon’s name if I ever heard of one. But tell me, fool, who is this false lord you serve for I have never even heard of his name.”

The large man smiled grimly. “You will. All will bow or be forced to feel the wrath of the lick of his flames.”

Rhema smiled. “The red one, then. In fact, he was the last one we freed a servant girl from. I believe you were going to offer her up as a sacrifice!” Rhema said with a rising fire in her voice.

The man growled in anger. “Then it was indeed you who stole from our master. We have felt his wrath ever since. Only tomorrow will we be free of his wrath, especially when I bring him your severed heads. Then the name of Druff will be honored with the name of Charis.”

Semeion interjected, “Charis is a female name meaning grace. Are we to assume that you are Druff, then?”

The man turned and leveled his sword towards Semeion. “I suppose it is only fitting that you know the name of the one who is going to slay you. Druff is my name, and Charis will be the new Provenience as our dragon father demanded in exchange for the one you stole as a sacrifice. Charis will be honored highly.”

Ischarus spat at the words of the opposition. “Then you are Drakontos, then? You are the child of dragon breeding.”

Semeion shot Rhema a quick glance revealing that he had no knowledge of the Drakontos in spite of his arcane studies. Rhema ignored his glance, choosing to focus on the man instead.

The man smiled and added, “Indeed. The blood of dragons is in these veins, and my dragon tainted blood will relish in the spilling of your feeble human blood. The time for talk is over!”

The man pulled the sword back and prepared to step forward and swing away. Ischarus was prepared for this as he had felt the man’s anger fueling his words more each time he spoke. As Druff stepped forward Ischarus held out his own blade with a quick jab. Druff easily batted the sword away and Ischarus’ half-hearted attempt to stop the battle early was spoiled.

Semeion would waste no time or effort allowing the weapon wielders to trade blows. “Thin-tok” he spoke with purpose. The familiar light blue energy ball formed between his palm and his outstretched fingers and shot forth to strike Druff. The ball dodged to the left of Ischarus and then jerked to the right again to strike the enemy in the chest. The Drakontos grimaced at the pain but continued his attack against Ischarus.

Rhema knew that charming the Drakontos was a risky maneuver, especially since the green glow had seemingly taken effect upon Ischarus’ ability to fight. She lifted a finger to her head once again and focused hard on the opposition in much the same way that she had done against the gnoll shaman’s spider pet underground. As she focused, Druff released the handle of his weapon and it fell hard to the ground. His hands shot toward his head and gripped them while his face contorted in writhing pain. After what seemed to be an eternity of pain, the Drakontos dropped completely to the ground. Rhema looked on with deep concern as he dropped to the ground.

Rhema looked on with concern. “Ischarus … he’s not … is he?” Her breaths became shallow as Ischarus stowed his sword to check on Druff’s status. 

Ischarus cautiously knelt beside the Drakontos and took off one of his own gauntlets. He held his hand over the mouth of the Drakontos and looked up to Rhema. “He is breathing, rest easy. You have not killed him.”

Rhema interrupted Ischarus as he tried to calm her down. “It was just that … with the green glow and everything … and he seemed to turn aside your strike so easily …”

Ischarus raised an outstretched hand up to Rhema indicating for her to remain quiet. “Semeion, could you bring me some of the rope that Elistra carries? I’d get it myself but I don’t want to turn my back on Druff, here.”

Semeion nodded and dismounted. As he brought Ischarus the rope he caught the fighter’s eyes and asked, “You know about the Drakontos? I have never heard of them. And he looked so human!”

Ischarus smiled and looked down to Druff. “I suppose in a manner of speaking, Druff and I are a strange sort of family, Semeion. Because I bet you think I look human, too.

Semeion gave Ischarus a puzzled glance but didn’t address him further.

Instead, Ischarus continued his explanation. “The Drakontos are a race created by dragons to serve the dragon, love the dragon, or fear the dragon depending on what type of dragon it is. The evil dragons find the human race pliable enough to reproduce with them and taint their hearts toward evil. Sure, the first generation and second generation of dragon born have a more ghastly draconic presence. Often they have horns – or even bony frill coming up out of their skull. They are far stronger than humans, but they are also much more stubborn and less able to master a variety of purposes. When these dragon born are reintroduced into human society and bred with more humans, eventually the dragon bloodline is diluted enough that the noticeable differences fade.”

Semeion studied Ischarus’ face hard as he spoke. Once he had finished speaking, Ischarus went to work on tying Druff up and inserting a gag into his mouth so that he was able to breath through his nose but unable to alert anyone through the night. 

As Ischarus worked, Semeion continued to ask Ischarus of the dragon blooded. “And you are one of these dragon born? You mean that somewhere back in your heritage is the same red dragon that bore Druff’s ancestors?”

Ischarus chuckled slightly. “No, Semeion. Fortunately I was not given that fate. Most Drakontos born to evil dragons live a life of personal enslavement. So long as they are useful to the dragon they are allowed to live. As they age, they are often offered up as sacrifices before they can become feeble. The evil dragon societies are adept at brainwashing these Drakontos that it is better to return to the master through his stomach than to die a useless form on the earth. Rather than be a burden on their society, they become food.”

“And this is what is to become of Charis? She will become food? We’ve got to do something!”

Rhema spoke up and asserted her opinion after being silent for some time. “That’s the Semeion I knew was inside. That’s the fire that drives us through the mountain each and every time. Now you understand.”

Before Semeion could respond to Rhema, Ischarus answered Semeion’s most recent assertion. “Unfortunately, death would be more welcome than what she is to become. She is to be their new Provenience. Charis will be the mother of the dragon’s next round of dragon born. She will bear the children of the red dragon she serves under until he is finished with her services. Once she is beyond childbearing age she will be consumed and the people will hold a great festival in her honor. She is brainwashed into bearing clutches of four to five dragon blooded children each time. The stress on her body will be incredible. And all of her children will in turn bear more and more children.”

“But, why does the red dragon need more? If his whole tribe is dragon blooded, they should not loose the concentration of blood in their line. They should be able to simply reproduce and maintain what the dragon desires.”

Rhema sighed heavily and Ischarus shot her a hard glance. “Unfortunately, we are held at least partially responsible. The dragon must have been angry with his people and demanded a sacrifice. When we rescued the last sacrifice the dragon must have demanded a young virgin. By allowing us to free that sacrifice the dragon most likely became incensed. The people don’t know it, but they are about to become exterminated – or at least reduced in numbers greatly. The people have failed their dragon once too often and the red must think it is time to start over.”

A silence was cast across the party as Ischarus finished his work. The horse that Druff had been using to follow the trio had begun to make movements in the brush and Rhema was alerted to the noise. “I’ll go retrieve it,” she added with a nod and she turned Shauvry in that general direction. “You two finish up. I think Semeion has another question.”

Ischarus looked up to Semeion, who asked, “So, if you are a Drakontos, then you escaped?”

Ischarus shook his in return. “No, my master was not an evil dragon. He is a great silver dragon. He did not create us to be his slaves, but rather he created us to help bring a utopian society into existence. He knew that the hearts of humans strayed as often to evil as to good. Perhaps they stray more to evil than to good. My father dragon believes that the noblest way to guide the world is through the creation of us as his servants. He raises us and cares for us and sends us into the world to make a difference. We are his agents of change and good in the world. One day after prayer my own dragon father decided to send one of his servants into Quehalost to observe the dangers growing in the land. Of course, my dragon father was particularly afraid of the growing draconic strength. That was my very first mission and I have come back ever since. I do not target the dragons and their Drakontos society specifically; but I would also be lying if I told you that I do not seek every opportunity to save a Drakontos from the grips of the evil from their own dragon father.”

Semeion nodded as he tried to absorb all of the new information. It seemed nearly inconceivable that this man before him was Drakontos and knew a silver dragon personally. As his mouth hung slightly agape, Rhema returned with the fourth horse. She smirked knowing that Ischarus had startled Semeion with his story.

Ischarus stood, lifting Druff from the ground. “Come, we should rest while Druff is unconscious. His horse will be useful, especially if we are able to rescue Charis. I believe that should be our goal. If we stop the red from mating with Charis we will have interfered substantially. Your dragon father would be proud.” 

Weary from the journey, the new information, and the combat the party headed in silence to the alcove where they established a quick watch and prepared to sleep the night away.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (May 10, 2006)

*Chapter Three: FINDING GRACE*

The next morning came quickly, although Semeion was already awake before the sun came up.  He had requested to take the final watch so that he could begin to work on the arcane talents that he might need to draw upon for the next day.  As the sun rose, Semeion concluded his mental exercises and looked one last time at his book of arcane writings.  He smiled one last time as his fingers traced along one of the lines of the book before he snapped the book shut.  Once his mind was set with the mysteries of the arcane he rose to wake Ischarus and Rhema.  Druff still lay unconscious from the previous night.

“I suppose we should wake him,” Ischarus stated with a sneer once the party was up and ready to move.

“I don’t see why we need to wake him up,” Semeion argued.  “If we secure him to his horse he won’t be any trouble while unconscious.  And when he wakes up…”

“And when he wakes up,” Rhema interjected, “he’ll be more trouble than if we let him get it out of his system now.  Besides, with our luck he’ll stay unconscious completely until we get within the realm of the red dragon.  Then at the worst possible moment he’ll wake up and we’ll need to contend with him beside the Drakontai of his village.”

Ischarus continued while offering a polite smile of peace toward Semeion.  “Which then means that we’ll have to contend with him as well as explain our harsh treatment of him to the other villagers.  No, we’ll wake him now and let him get his frustration out of his system while we are far away.  Once we approach the village I’m sure Rhema can take care of him.  She does have a way with people, after all.”

Semeion looked to Rhema and noted that she blushed slightly under Ischarus’ praise.  He added, “Indeed, that she does.”

Ischarus took his gloved hand and slapped Druff across the face.  The Drakontos didn’t wake.  Ischarus struck him once more, this time slightly harder.  The Drakontos moaned a bit and slightly cracked his eyes open.  As his eyes increased in opening Ischarus could tell that Druff was in no condition to even focus his eyesight.

Ischarus chastised the Drakontos warrior.  “Wake up, fool.  We’ve got a few miles to cover and its time you were reunited with your people.  In fact, I think you might even be of some use to us before this day has reached its conclusion.”

The Drakontos spat into the air, obviously hoping to strike Ischarus where he stood.  His spittle missed Ischarus wide by nearly a foot, betraying the fact that his mind was still scrambled enough that his eyesight had not returned to its full use.  Druff could obvious see well enough to pick up on colors and shadow, but his hand-eye coordination was still not yet normal.

Ischarus laughed as Druff missed his mark.  “You are still feeling the effects of my associate’s mind wrenching powers.  If you are lucky, you’ll live long enough for your head to sort out what is wrong with your eyes.  If not, I’m sure your dragon father won’t mind the taste of your flesh whether you can see or not.”  Ischarus winked at Semeion as he spoke, knowing that Druff could not see the gesture.  Ischarus knew that Semeion was inexperienced at knowing when he was bluffing and when he was telling the truth.  He wanted Semeion to know for certain this was a bluff and that he wasn’t actually planning on offering him up to the red dragon.

Druff sneered at Ischarus’ words and emitted a low growl.  “Set me free from these bindings.  I’m no threat to you as I am.  Free me so I can strike you down – or die trying.”

Ischarus laughed at the boldness of the Drakontos. “That’ll be the day.  Now get on your feet!”  Ischarus’ gloved hand reached down and grabbed a fistful of Druff’s hair.  He tugged on the Drakontos’ hair and Druff grudgingly rose to his feet.  After a few heated moments of discussion Druff was sitting atop of his horse and fastened to it to prevent escape.  The rest of the party quickly followed suit and they headed back onto the beaten path where they had met Druff the night prior.

Once onto the road they made decent time away from the mountains on the border between Tongra and Quehalost.  Druff’s vocal complaints made it increasingly clear that his vision was returning and he would be a significant hassle once they reached the village.  When Ischarus felt that they were closing in on the village he nodded to Rhema.  “Time to work your magic, girl.  I don’t think that we dare get any closer to the village with Druff carrying on the way that he is.”

With some confidence in her riding abilities, Rhema spun Shauvry around so that she faced Druff as he rode his horse.  Druff’s horse stopped at the maneuver and nearly reared back as Shauvry unexpectedly turned into its path.

“Whoa, now, boy!” Druff shouted trying to maintain control with both his knees and his voice.  Control was difficult to acheive since his hands were not at his disposal.  Once his horse had settled down he looked back to Rhema and shouted, “You’ll be wise to stay away from me with your mind powers, witch!  If I am ever freed from these bonds I’ll hunt you down and you’ll regret anything you plan on doing to me.”

Rhema smiled and her eyes started to glaze over as if she were looking through Druff into the horizon.  “There is no real reason to fear us, Druff.”  Her words seemed normal to Semeion and Ischarus as they listened; but to Druff the words seemed to bounce around the woods and echo in his mind.  ”We’re here to help your people, Druff.  We know that the red dragon you serve is planning on feasting on those of your village while it mates with your sacrifice.  We don’t want all those people to die without knowing the threat that looms above them.  Help us free your people, Druff.”

Although her words took less than a minute to speak, it seemed to Druff that Rhema had been speaking to him for an hour.  His mind struggled to wade through her words and make sense of how her soothing voice contradicted the rage he felt inside.  Soon the flow of Rhema’s voice washed Druff free of his anger and he began to think more clearly again.  Rhema’s words subsided and Druff smiled as he looked at Rhema.  ”Come on, then.  Free me from these bonds so that I can help you all free my people.  They are in grave danger in the village.  Grixanthrosilithiss has set aside his most loyal servants to help raise the young when they are born.  Everyone else will die.  They must be stopped!”

Rhema spun Shauvry around make eye contact with Ischarus.  “He’s under my power now.  We have one hour, Ischarus.  I say we free him and make the most of it.”

Semeion’s eyes shot open with amazement.  “What?” He exclaimed in shock.  “You plan to set him free?”

Ischarus turned to Semeion.  “Not only set him free, but I plan to let him lead us into his village.  He knows the quickest way and his people will be more likely to listen to us if Druff leads us into his village.”  After completing his thought, Ischarus stood in his saddle slightly and guided Elistra to Druff’s side.  He leaned in his saddle until he could reach Druff’s bindings and then he freed the Drakontos warrior.  “There, Druff.  You are free.  Now ride hard to your village so that we can follow and make good time.  But first, how many are there that your father plans to keep from his destruction as trainers of the next generation?”

Druff brought his hands around to grip his reigns as he turned to look towards Ischarus.  “Five, including myself: two male and three female.  I’ll handle them; you all focus on the rest of the village!”

Druff charged off into the front of the party as Semeion gave Ischarus a blank stare of disbelief.  His mouth hung slightly agape as he watched the proceedings.  Rhema chuckled and urged Shauvry into following Druff’s horse.  “Druff is what I like to call charmed by my personality, Semeion.  I have influenced his mind into believing our cause is his cause.  But my power over him will only last an hour.  We must make great haste if we plan to get into his village, save the Provenience, and get away with enough distance between us and them to evade the pursuit – and probably the dragon.”

Rhema took off first, Shauvry accustomed to leading before Elistra and Thana.  Shauvry was able to keep pace with Druff’s hustling horse.  Elistra and Thana were also able to keep up, although Elistra was more taxed by the speedy charge down the forested path than the other horses.  After a short ride Rhema, Semeion, and Ischarus could hear Druff calling forth in his own language.

Ischarus called to his friends, “It seems like Druff is calling the people together!  Rhema, are you sure your control over him is intact?”

Rhema yelled back over her shoulder, “I know that my power over him was effective, if that is what you are asking.  I cannot tell Druff what to do, but I know that Druff now considers us friends and allies.  I’ve no clue as to what his plan is from here.”

Semeion shook his head and chastised, “Do all your plans go this smoothly?”

Ischarus grinned at Semeion’s comment and yelled back, “They do when we are on horseback!  Normally, though, we don’t have this advantage!”  It was clear from the tone of his voice that he was enjoying this particular challenge.

The trio of horses emerged out of the forest into a circular clearing with a diameter of about one hundred yards.  Primitive houses lined the outside ring of trees and a large flat stone with a diameter of about twenty feet rested atop five smaller pillars each about 4 feet tall.  A young female of obviously the same lineage as Druff lay strapped to the center of the stone.  Druff rode wildly around the central stone, calling for the tribal community to make its presence known.

“Grixanthrosilithiss has deceived you all!” Druff yelled.  “You all must flee or you will become food for our father dragon!”

No sooner did Druff raise the alarm to the people than two female warriors emerged from one of the outside buildings and ran towards the center of the circle. “You fool!” yelled the taller of the females.  “What do you hope to gain from this?  Grixanthrosilithiss will not be pleased if the people are driven from their homes around the circle!  It is forbidden to leave!”  Both women drew their weapons and Ischarus immediately realized his prior miscalculation.  Druff was unarmed.

Ischarus yelled out for Elistra to ride hard forward and attempt to intercept the charge of the women as they came to attack the defenseless Druff.  As he charged forward atop Elistra, Rhema and Semeion began to notice that some of the locals were beginning to gather outside of their buildings.  They could tell from the reaction of the people that this was an uncommon sight.  They seemed confused at Druff’s words.

Rhema turned to Semeion and addressed the young mage.  “Give me Thana’s reigns and get onto that stone.  We must save the Provenience before too many people have gathered.  At the moment, I only see two of the women that Druff mentioned before.  That leaves one man and one woman unaccounted for.  The rest only pose a problem if their numbers grow too large that we cannot handle them.”

Without hesitation Semeion leapt onto the ground from atop Thana’s back and slid his horse’s reigns into Rhema’s grasp.  He quickly charged to the stone and with a simple swing of his hips Semeion swung his legs up over the edge of the stone.  In a second he was on his knees and then he stood up.  He shuffled across the smooth stone’s slippery surface and drew one of his daggers.  

The woman tied to the stone cried out in her native tongue, “No!  I am a gift to our father!”  She was clearly afraid for her life and the sacrifice being interrupted.

Semeion slashed down with his dagger.  He easily severed one of the cords that strapped the Provenience to the stone.  With a simple motion he drew the dagger upwards again and prepared to strike at another.

Semeion’s act enraged the woman who was to be sacrificed.  “No!” The woman screamed again.  Many of the onlookers had shifted their attention from Druff to Semeion’s work.  Most of them began to shout in wide-eyed horror as Semeion cut the ropes of bondage.  The Provenience yelled and struggled against Semeion.  “You cannot take me from my father!  I am to be his gift!  I am to be his honored queen!”

Semeion had enough of this crazed woman’s babblings as he cut another cord.  “Listen, lady.  I don’t know what you’ve heard but I know that if your dragon father gets a hold of you that you will bear children until you are swollen and of no more use to this dragon you prize.  Then you will be consumed!”

While Semeion worked on the bondage of the Provenience, across the village Ischarus intercepted the blows designed for Druff.  Elistra swung between Druff and his attackers and Ischarus deflected the attacks o the female Drakontai with his own sword.  He turned to Druff and yelled, “Druff, you must warn these people of the impending doom and convince them to run and flee to safety.  Tell them to not stay together when they flee.  They will be more successful if they scatter.  That will make it more difficult for your dragon father to find them all.  And tell them to run to the mountains.  They’ll listen to you.”

Druff steered his horse and it charged back around the circle as Ischarus handled a few more attacks from the women warriors.  As Druff rode circles around the platform he yelled a stern warning to his people. “Grixanthrosilithiss will not forgive your insolence.  He has already made designs on your destruction.  I and four others were chosen to remain; the rest of you will be sacrificed to our dragon father.  You must flee with your lives before our father is aroused!  You must flee through the mountains to be saved!” 

Druff made this appeal several times.  A few of the villagers listened and grabbed onto their smaller children to drag them inside their homes.  After a few moments of hurried packing these few villagers burst forth out of their homes and ran screaming through the village.  The compulsion of Druff was strange enough, but most of the villagers were even more bothered by the emergence of the strangers bent on freeing the Provenience.  It was an omen to all regarding the coming destruction at the hands of the dragon father.

Semeion thrust his dagger down onto the binding ropes once more and slashed the third rope.  The rope snapped and recoiled across the stone surface.  Only one rope remained.  The Provenience screamed even harder, and now that both of her legs were free she pushed off with her feet and brought her legs around to meet up with the side of Semeion’s head.  

As the woman’s feet connected with Semeion’s head, he sprawled forward across the large flat stone.  His hands lost control of the dagger and it slid out of his reach from where he fell.  Quickly he rose to his feet and scooped up his dagger.  He was determined to make another attempt at freeing this young woman.  

The Provenience realized that only one bond remained and kept her chained to the stone.  Using her warped and brainwashed logic she swung herself into a standing position and put herself between Semeion and the rope.  “I am the Provenience,” she demanded of Semeion, “you must come no further.  I am to be the bride of our dragon father and that is my honor!”

“You will be his slave for procreation and bear his children until your body wears out!” Semeion shouted in return.  His anger was starting to get the better of him.  After all, he was attempting to save this woman’s life.

The woman growled at Semeion and took up a defensive stance against Semeion’s assault.  She managed to deflect Semeion’s next blow and get a single hand on the blade of the dagger.  As she wrestled for control of the weapon she heard a soft voice speaking to her inside her mind.

It was Rhema’s voice she heard, although she did not know Rhema.  “Provenience, forgive my intrusion into your mind.  But you must listen to Semeion.  The words he speaks are true.  You body will be violated in gross acts of procreation until you are worn out and useless.  There is no glory or honor in what you are asked to do.”

Slowly her eyes began to gloss over and her strength left the hand she had on Semeion’s dagger.  Semeion freed the dagger from her grip and easily avoided her body to strike out at the last binding.  Once she was free, the woman spun around several times as if struggling with her orientation.  He body began to sink as her knees grew weak from dehydration and stress.

As Semeion stowed his dagger he noticed that the woman began to lose her balance.  Semeion reached out and caught her before she could fall.  He picked her up and with great effort brought her back to Rhema.  He was grateful that Rhema had chosen to come out of the forest and close the gap in order to approach the stone.  He could also tell that the Provenience was suffering from heat stroke and dehydration from being strapped to the stone for much of the morning.

The young mage looked with concern to Rhema.  “That’s two you have control over if I am not mistaken, Rhema.”

Rhema nodded.  “That I am not worried about, Semeion.  We need to separate Druff from his horse.  We also need to separate Druff from the rest of the people who are fleeing.  When he is freed of my control he will come to his senses.  If there are any of the villagers who are near him when he is freed, they will most certainly be brought back for a feast for the red dragon’s behalf.”

Semeion laid the Provenience down onto the stone and looked at Druff as he continued to charge atop his horse through the village.  More and more of the natives were taking his warnings seriously and they were beginning to flee in all directions.  Semeion caught Druff’s eye and yelled as loud as he could muster.  “Druff, you must bring your horse to me so that we can save the Provenience from the wrath of the dragon father.  We will need your steed.  You must go to Ischarus and draw your sword from his pack and help him against the women warriors of your people.  Then we must all flee!”

Semeion gave Rhema a questioning glance, wondering if that would make sense to the Drakontos warrior.  Semeion’s words did seem to get through to Druff, and the Drakontos warrior turned his horse toward Semeion and charged through the mayhem of the fleeing villagers.  Once he was at Semeion’s side he gave Semeion the reigns and leapt off the horse onto the stone.  He hoisted the Provenience onto his horse and turned to Semeion.  “The horse’s name is Abijou, he’ll protect her.”

Semeion gave Druff a casual smile as Druff turned towards Ischarus.  The Drakontos warrior ran across the slippery stone surface with a confident motion that demonstrated his experience with the sacrificial stone.  Upon reaching the other side, he approached Elistra and in a single motion drew his sword from where Ischarus had stowed it.  He held it in a defensive manner and struck against the two women.  

Ischarus turned to see from whom this assistance had come.  Upon seeing Druff he spun Elistra around to face all three of the Drakontos warriors.  Ischarus looked up to Semeion upon the stone and urged him to leave with a gesture of his sword.  

Semeion leapt from the stone onto Thana’s back and reclaimed the reigns from Rhema.  As he did, Rhema gave him advice and encouragement.  “Take her and go now, Semeion.  Your progress will be slowed on account of her inability to guide her own horse.  She’s dehydrated and won’t do well.  Get a head start; we’ll catch up to you when we can!”

Semeion gave Rhema a look of argumentation as if to say that he would not leave her side.  Rhema looked back to Ischarus and then to Semeion before he could speak.  “Ischarus will not let anything happen to me.  Now go, before it is too late!”

Semeion nodded and tugged on Abijou’s reigns.  The horse followed Thana out of the clearing and back into the woods.  As Semeion turned in his saddle once more, he saw Druff and Ischarus fighting side by side, paving the way to allow the villagers an opportunity to escape unhindered.  

Rhema shouted words of encouragement in the draconic language.  These were words that Ischarus had taught her to speak.  The people did not seem to understand her desire to help them, but they were appreciative of the advice nonetheless.  Semeion couldn’t help but marvel at the chaos of the scene.  He also couldn’t help but marvel at the peace inside his own heart knowing that they had saved the Provenience.  They had begun the destruction of a red dragon’s following.  For the time being it felt good.  He was sure this was not the last they would hear from the dragon, however.  Perhaps this was the same fate that had eventually caught up with his master.  At the thought of Master Sathwright his internal peace ended.  There was still work do be done.  He would make Master Sathwright proud.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Chapter Three: FINDING GRACE

The next morning came quickly, although Semeion was already awake before the sun came up. He had requested to take the final watch so that he could begin to work on the arcane talents that he might need to draw upon for the next day. As the sun rose, Semeion concluded his mental exercises and looked one last time at his book of arcane writings. He smiled one last time as his fingers traced along one of the lines of the book before he snapped the book shut. Once his mind was set with the mysteries of the arcane he rose to wake Ischarus and Rhema. Druff still lay unconscious from the previous night.

“I suppose we should wake him,” Ischarus stated with a sneer once the party was up and ready to move.

“I don’t see why we need to wake him up,” Semeion argued. “If we secure him to his horse he won’t be any trouble while unconscious. And when he wakes up…”

“And when he wakes up,” Rhema interjected, “he’ll be more trouble than if we let him get it out of his system now. Besides, with our luck he’ll stay unconscious completely until we get within the realm of the red dragon. Then at the worst possible moment he’ll wake up and we’ll need to contend with him beside the Drakontai of his village.”

Ischarus continued while offering a polite smile of peace toward Semeion. “Which then means that we’ll have to contend with him as well as explain our harsh treatment of him to the other villagers. No, we’ll wake him now and let him get his frustration out of his system while we are far away. Once we approach the village I’m sure Rhema can take care of him. She does have a way with people, after all.”

Semeion looked to Rhema and noted that she blushed slightly under Ischarus’ praise. He added, “Indeed, that she does.”

Ischarus took his gloved hand and slapped Druff across the face. The Drakontos didn’t wake. Ischarus struck him once more, this time slightly harder. The Drakontos moaned a bit and slightly cracked his eyes open. As his eyes increased in opening Ischarus could tell that Druff was in no condition to even focus his eyesight.

Ischarus chastised the Drakontos warrior. “Wake up, fool. We’ve got a few miles to cover and its time you were reunited with your people. In fact, I think you might even be of some use to us before this day has reached its conclusion.”

The Drakontos spat into the air, obviously hoping to strike Ischarus where he stood. His spittle missed Ischarus wide by nearly a foot, betraying the fact that his mind was still scrambled enough that his eyesight had not returned to its full use. Druff could obvious see well enough to pick up on colors and shadow, but his hand-eye coordination was still not yet normal.

Ischarus laughed as Druff missed his mark. “You are still feeling the effects of my associate’s mind wrenching powers. If you are lucky, you’ll live long enough for your head to sort out what is wrong with your eyes. If not, I’m sure your dragon father won’t mind the taste of your flesh whether you can see or not.” Ischarus winked at Semeion as he spoke, knowing that Druff could not see the gesture. Ischarus knew that Semeion was inexperienced at knowing when he was bluffing and when he was telling the truth. He wanted Semeion to know for certain this was a bluff and that he wasn’t actually planning on offering him up to the red dragon.

Druff sneered at Ischarus’ words and emitted a low growl. “Set me free from these bindings. I’m no threat to you as I am. Free me so I can strike you down – or die trying.”

Ischarus laughed at the boldness of the Drakontos. “That’ll be the day. Now get on your feet!” Ischarus’ gloved hand reached down and grabbed a fistful of Druff’s hair. He tugged on the Drakontos’ hair and Druff grudgingly rose to his feet. After a few heated moments of discussion Druff was sitting atop of his horse and fastened to it to prevent escape. The rest of the party quickly followed suit and they headed back onto the beaten path where they had met Druff the night prior.

Once onto the road they made decent time away from the mountains on the border between Tongra and Quehalost. Druff’s vocal complaints made it increasingly clear that his vision was returning and he would be a significant hassle once they reached the village. When Ischarus felt that they were closing in on the village he nodded to Rhema. “Time to work your magic, girl. I don’t think that we dare get any closer to the village with Druff carrying on the way that he is.”

With some confidence in her riding abilities, Rhema spun Shauvry around so that she faced Druff as he rode his horse. Druff’s horse stopped at the maneuver and nearly reared back as Shauvry unexpectedly turned into its path.

“Whoa, now, boy!” Druff shouted trying to maintain control with both his knees and his voice. Control was difficult to acheive since his hands were not at his disposal. Once his horse had settled down he looked back to Rhema and shouted, “You’ll be wise to stay away from me with your mind powers, witch! If I am ever freed from these bonds I’ll hunt you down and you’ll regret anything you plan on doing to me.”

Rhema smiled and her eyes started to glaze over as if she were looking through Druff into the horizon. “There is no real reason to fear us, Druff.” Her words seemed normal to Semeion and Ischarus as they listened; but to Druff the words seemed to bounce around the woods and echo in his mind. ”We’re here to help your people, Druff. We know that the red dragon you serve is planning on feasting on those of your village while it mates with your sacrifice. We don’t want all those people to die without knowing the threat that looms above them. Help us free your people, Druff.”

Although her words took less than a minute to speak, it seemed to Druff that Rhema had been speaking to him for an hour. His mind struggled to wade through her words and make sense of how her soothing voice contradicted the rage he felt inside. Soon the flow of Rhema’s voice washed Druff free of his anger and he began to think more clearly again. Rhema’s words subsided and Druff smiled as he looked at Rhema. ”Come on, then. Free me from these bonds so that I can help you all free my people. They are in grave danger in the village. Grixanthrosilithiss has set aside his most loyal servants to help raise the young when they are born. Everyone else will die. They must be stopped!”

Rhema spun Shauvry around make eye contact with Ischarus. “He’s under my power now. We have one hour, Ischarus. I say we free him and make the most of it.”

Semeion’s eyes shot open with amazement. “What?” He exclaimed in shock. “You plan to set him free?”

Ischarus turned to Semeion. “Not only set him free, but I plan to let him lead us into his village. He knows the quickest way and his people will be more likely to listen to us if Druff leads us into his village.” After completing his thought, Ischarus stood in his saddle slightly and guided Elistra to Druff’s side. He leaned in his saddle until he could reach Druff’s bindings and then he freed the Drakontos warrior. “There, Druff. You are free. Now ride hard to your village so that we can follow and make good time. But first, how many are there that your father plans to keep from his destruction as trainers of the next generation?”

Druff brought his hands around to grip his reigns as he turned to look towards Ischarus. “Five, including myself: two male and three female. I’ll handle them; you all focus on the rest of the village!”

Druff charged off into the front of the party as Semeion gave Ischarus a blank stare of disbelief. His mouth hung slightly agape as he watched the proceedings. Rhema chuckled and urged Shauvry into following Druff’s horse. “Druff is what I like to call charmed by my personality, Semeion. I have influenced his mind into believing our cause is his cause. But my power over him will only last an hour. We must make great haste if we plan to get into his village, save the Provenience, and get away with enough distance between us and them to evade the pursuit – and probably the dragon.”

Rhema took off first, Shauvry accustomed to leading before Elistra and Thana. Shauvry was able to keep pace with Druff’s hustling horse. Elistra and Thana were also able to keep up, although Elistra was more taxed by the speedy charge down the forested path than the other horses. After a short ride Rhema, Semeion, and Ischarus could hear Druff calling forth in his own language.

Ischarus called to his friends, “It seems like Druff is calling the people together! Rhema, are you sure your control over him is intact?”

Rhema yelled back over her shoulder, “I know that my power over him was effective, if that is what you are asking. I cannot tell Druff what to do, but I know that Druff now considers us friends and allies. I’ve no clue as to what his plan is from here.”

Semeion shook his head and chastised, “Do all your plans go this smoothly?”

Ischarus grinned at Semeion’s comment and yelled back, “They do when we are on horseback! Normally, though, we don’t have this advantage!” It was clear from the tone of his voice that he was enjoying this particular challenge.

The trio of horses emerged out of the forest into a circular clearing with a diameter of about one hundred yards. Primitive houses lined the outside ring of trees and a large flat stone with a diameter of about twenty feet rested atop five smaller pillars each about 4 feet tall. A young female of obviously the same lineage as Druff lay strapped to the center of the stone. Druff rode wildly around the central stone, calling for the tribal community to make its presence known.

“Grixanthrosilithiss has deceived you all!” Druff yelled. “You all must flee or you will become food for our father dragon!”

No sooner did Druff raise the alarm to the people than two female warriors emerged from one of the outside buildings and ran towards the center of the circle. “You fool!” yelled the taller of the females. “What do you hope to gain from this? Grixanthrosilithiss will not be pleased if the people are driven from their homes around the circle! It is forbidden to leave!” Both women drew their weapons and Ischarus immediately realized his prior miscalculation. Druff was unarmed.

Ischarus yelled out for Elistra to ride hard forward and attempt to intercept the charge of the women as they came to attack the defenseless Druff. As he charged forward atop Elistra, Rhema and Semeion began to notice that some of the locals were beginning to gather outside of their buildings. They could tell from the reaction of the people that this was an uncommon sight. They seemed confused at Druff’s words.

Rhema turned to Semeion and addressed the young mage. “Give me Thana’s reigns and get onto that stone. We must save the Provenience before too many people have gathered. At the moment, I only see two of the women that Druff mentioned before. That leaves one man and one woman unaccounted for. The rest only pose a problem if their numbers grow too large that we cannot handle them.”

Without hesitation Semeion leapt onto the ground from atop Thana’s back and slid his horse’s reigns into Rhema’s grasp. He quickly charged to the stone and with a simple swing of his hips Semeion swung his legs up over the edge of the stone. In a second he was on his knees and then he stood up. He shuffled across the smooth stone’s slippery surface and drew one of his daggers. 

The woman tied to the stone cried out in her native tongue, “No! I am a gift to our father!” She was clearly afraid for her life and the sacrifice being interrupted.

Semeion slashed down with his dagger. He easily severed one of the cords that strapped the Provenience to the stone. With a simple motion he drew the dagger upwards again and prepared to strike at another.

Semeion’s act enraged the woman who was to be sacrificed. “No!” The woman screamed again. Many of the onlookers had shifted their attention from Druff to Semeion’s work. Most of them began to shout in wide-eyed horror as Semeion cut the ropes of bondage. The Provenience yelled and struggled against Semeion. “You cannot take me from my father! I am to be his gift! I am to be his honored queen!”

Semeion had enough of this crazed woman’s babblings as he cut another cord. “Listen, lady. I don’t know what you’ve heard but I know that if your dragon father gets a hold of you that you will bear children until you are swollen and of no more use to this dragon you prize. Then you will be consumed!”

While Semeion worked on the bondage of the Provenience, across the village Ischarus intercepted the blows designed for Druff. Elistra swung between Druff and his attackers and Ischarus deflected the attacks o the female Drakontai with his own sword. He turned to Druff and yelled, “Druff, you must warn these people of the impending doom and convince them to run and flee to safety. Tell them to not stay together when they flee. They will be more successful if they scatter. That will make it more difficult for your dragon father to find them all. And tell them to run to the mountains. They’ll listen to you.”

Druff steered his horse and it charged back around the circle as Ischarus handled a few more attacks from the women warriors. As Druff rode circles around the platform he yelled a stern warning to his people. “Grixanthrosilithiss will not forgive your insolence. He has already made designs on your destruction. I and four others were chosen to remain; the rest of you will be sacrificed to our dragon father. You must flee with your lives before our father is aroused! You must flee through the mountains to be saved!” 

Druff made this appeal several times. A few of the villagers listened and grabbed onto their smaller children to drag them inside their homes. After a few moments of hurried packing these few villagers burst forth out of their homes and ran screaming through the village. The compulsion of Druff was strange enough, but most of the villagers were even more bothered by the emergence of the strangers bent on freeing the Provenience. It was an omen to all regarding the coming destruction at the hands of the dragon father.

Semeion thrust his dagger down onto the binding ropes once more and slashed the third rope. The rope snapped and recoiled across the stone surface. Only one rope remained. The Provenience screamed even harder, and now that both of her legs were free she pushed off with her feet and brought her legs around to meet up with the side of Semeion’s head. 

As the woman’s feet connected with Semeion’s head, he sprawled forward across the large flat stone. His hands lost control of the dagger and it slid out of his reach from where he fell. Quickly he rose to his feet and scooped up his dagger. He was determined to make another attempt at freeing this young woman. 

The Provenience realized that only one bond remained and kept her chained to the stone. Using her warped and brainwashed logic she swung herself into a standing position and put herself between Semeion and the rope. “I am the Provenience,” she demanded of Semeion, “you must come no further. I am to be the bride of our dragon father and that is my honor!”

“You will be his slave for procreation and bear his children until your body wears out!” Semeion shouted in return. His anger was starting to get the better of him. After all, he was attempting to save this woman’s life.

The woman growled at Semeion and took up a defensive stance against Semeion’s assault. She managed to deflect Semeion’s next blow and get a single hand on the blade of the dagger. As she wrestled for control of the weapon she heard a soft voice speaking to her inside her mind.

It was Rhema’s voice she heard, although she did not know Rhema. “Provenience, forgive my intrusion into your mind. But you must listen to Semeion. The words he speaks are true. You body will be violated in gross acts of procreation until you are worn out and useless. There is no glory or honor in what you are asked to do.”

Slowly her eyes began to gloss over and her strength left the hand she had on Semeion’s dagger. Semeion freed the dagger from her grip and easily avoided her body to strike out at the last binding. Once she was free, the woman spun around several times as if struggling with her orientation. He body began to sink as her knees grew weak from dehydration and stress.

As Semeion stowed his dagger he noticed that the woman began to lose her balance. Semeion reached out and caught her before she could fall. He picked her up and with great effort brought her back to Rhema. He was grateful that Rhema had chosen to come out of the forest and close the gap in order to approach the stone. He could also tell that the Provenience was suffering from heat stroke and dehydration from being strapped to the stone for much of the morning.

The young mage looked with concern to Rhema. “That’s two you have control over if I am not mistaken, Rhema.”

Rhema nodded. “That I am not worried about, Semeion. We need to separate Druff from his horse. We also need to separate Druff from the rest of the people who are fleeing. When he is freed of my control he will come to his senses. If there are any of the villagers who are near him when he is freed, they will most certainly be brought back for a feast for the red dragon’s behalf.”

Semeion laid the Provenience down onto the stone and looked at Druff as he continued to charge atop his horse through the village. More and more of the natives were taking his warnings seriously and they were beginning to flee in all directions. Semeion caught Druff’s eye and yelled as loud as he could muster. “Druff, you must bring your horse to me so that we can save the Provenience from the wrath of the dragon father. We will need your steed. You must go to Ischarus and draw your sword from his pack and help him against the women warriors of your people. Then we must all flee!”

Semeion gave Rhema a questioning glance, wondering if that would make sense to the Drakontos warrior. Semeion’s words did seem to get through to Druff, and the Drakontos warrior turned his horse toward Semeion and charged through the mayhem of the fleeing villagers. Once he was at Semeion’s side he gave Semeion the reigns and leapt off the horse onto the stone. He hoisted the Provenience onto his horse and turned to Semeion. “The horse’s name is Abijou, he’ll protect her.”

Semeion gave Druff a casual smile as Druff turned towards Ischarus. The Drakontos warrior ran across the slippery stone surface with a confident motion that demonstrated his experience with the sacrificial stone. Upon reaching the other side, he approached Elistra and in a single motion drew his sword from where Ischarus had stowed it. He held it in a defensive manner and struck against the two women. 

Ischarus turned to see from whom this assistance had come. Upon seeing Druff he spun Elistra around to face all three of the Drakontos warriors. Ischarus looked up to Semeion upon the stone and urged him to leave with a gesture of his sword. 

Semeion leapt from the stone onto Thana’s back and reclaimed the reigns from Rhema. As he did, Rhema gave him advice and encouragement. “Take her and go now, Semeion. Your progress will be slowed on account of her inability to guide her own horse. She’s dehydrated and won’t do well. Get a head start; we’ll catch up to you when we can!”

Semeion gave Rhema a look of argumentation as if to say that he would not leave her side. Rhema looked back to Ischarus and then to Semeion before he could speak. “Ischarus will not let anything happen to me. Now go, before it is too late!”

Semeion nodded and tugged on Abijou’s reigns. The horse followed Thana out of the clearing and back into the woods. As Semeion turned in his saddle once more, he saw Druff and Ischarus fighting side by side, paving the way to allow the villagers an opportunity to escape unhindered. 

Rhema shouted words of encouragement in the draconic language. These were words that Ischarus had taught her to speak. The people did not seem to understand her desire to help them, but they were appreciative of the advice nonetheless. Semeion couldn’t help but marvel at the chaos of the scene. He also couldn’t help but marvel at the peace inside his own heart knowing that they had saved the Provenience. They had begun the destruction of a red dragon’s following. For the time being it felt good. He was sure this was not the last they would hear from the dragon, however. Perhaps this was the same fate that had eventually caught up with his master. At the thought of Master Sathwright his internal peace ended. There was still work do be done. He would make Master Sathwright proud.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (May 29, 2006)

Rhema watched as Semeion lead Thana away from the village as quickly as possible.  Abijou and his rider, the Provenience, were in tow directly behind him.  Rhema turned back toward the villagers to yell more words of encouragement the people would need with respect to fleeing into the mountains.  She knew the people were already dependant upon the red wyrm – they would need someone to teach them to fend for themselves.  She hoped that this someone would not need to be her or Ischarus.  As she pondered which words of encouragement to use, the raging battle between Ischarus, Druff, and the two Drakontos female warriors caught her attention.

From atop Elistra, Ischarus had a clear advantage.  Each blow that he struck drove more and more strength out of the arms of the Drakontos warriors.  Druff quickly learned to help defend Elistra from an attack while waiting for Ischarus to strike.  Once Ischarus had the opportunity to drive his sword down from his high position, Druff would be careful to stay out of the way so long as the opportunity had presented itself.  Three times Druff parried the attacks of one of the females and each time he followed the parry with a strike against the same female that Ischarus fought.

Once more Ischarus struck and knocked the female’s weapon clean from her hand.  Without thinking about the fact that she was now unarmed, Druff followed up Ischarus’ attack with a simple strike of his own.  The blow landed cleanly as the steel pierced the female’s chest.   Her eyes widened in amazement at the pain and her pierced lungs searched for breath it could not find.  The female’s eyes became vacant and rolled back as she slumped over dead.

Ischarus began to chastise Druff, but then realized that Rhema’s power did not have the ability to transfer their honor code.  Druff was used to killing his enemies.  That was what had made him great in the Drakontos village.  There would be no way to alter his aggressive onslaught without having time to talk to him and convince him otherwise.  They did not have that time now.

Rhema yelled when she saw that the female Drakontos warrior had been dispatched.  “Ischarus, we must move now before the beast above is aroused by the commotion!”

Ischarus heard Rhema’s cry as he teamed up with Druff against the remaining Drakontos female.  “Drive her off, Druff!” Ischarus commanded from atop his horse.  The Drakontos warrior saw the tactical position that Ischarus was trying to guide Druff into.  She knew that if she was driven back from the horseman that she would be open to an attack from a charging horse.  One blow from Ischarus with the momentum of the horse behind him could certainly finish her off.  Her only choice was to flee now that her own partner had been slain by Druff.  As the female pulled away from the skirmish, Druff began to pursue his Drakontos kinswoman.

Ischarus watched Druff as the warrior backed away from them.  “No!” Ischarus called out to Druff.  “Let her go, Druff.  She’ll not get far.  You must help the villagers to flee!”

Rhema’s eyes widened with excitement as she heard Ischarus’ voice.  Knowing that her control over Druff would give her the advantage she needed she yelled from across the stone altar.  “No, Druff, pursue her.  Pursue her quickly and do not let her escape!”  Her voice was strong in spite of the fact that she did not enjoy contradicting Ischarus.

Ischarus spun Elistra around to face Rhema at her immediate contradiction of his orders to Druff.  He knew Druff would listen to her over himself on account of her power.  She would need a good reason to have countermanded his tactical order.  Combat was his area of expertise.

Before he could speak, Rhema yelled to Ischarus. “It’s time to go, Ischarus.  The people are fleeing and we need to move to catch up to Semeion.  If he goes into the tunnels too far we’ll lose him!”

Without a word, Druff leapt into motion and chased after the female Drakontos warrior.  He had little chance of catching the more fleet of foot woman, but he was determined to satisfy Rhema’s command.  The woman began to pull away from Druff and Rhema smiled as the pair of Drakontos headed in the opposite direction that she and Ischarus would use for their retreat.  They fled away from the direction that most of the villagers would use to get to the mountains.

Ischarus spurred Elistra into motion and the horse jerked suddenly as it rounded the altar to approach Rhema. As he approached, Rhema could tell he was confused and not pleased at all by what had happened between her and Druff.

Ischarus yelled as he drew closer to Rhema.  “Why did you correct me?  Druff could have been invaluable in focusing the people into their retreat!” 

Rhema simply smiled and responded, “And what would you have done when my power over him ran out?  He would have begun slaughtering the innocents in his rage against us!  This way he is heading in the opposite direction as we are – and perhaps more importantly in an opposite direction than his own people.”

Ischarus gave another scornful look to Rhema, but he knew she was right.  Rhema had made the right call. As helpful as Druff might have been in getting the people to the underground mountain passes, he would had been a terrific liability once Rhema lost control.

Rhema ignored Ischarus’ scornful glance and spun Shauvry around so she was facing the same direction as Elistra.  Her fingers tightened firmly around the reigns as she heard Ischarus begin to spur Elistra into motion once more.  As he lunged by Rhema and Shauvry, Ischarus called out to his associate, “Then we’d best make full use of our time with Druff heading the other way.  Semeion managed to get Druff’s horse from him, but there is no accounting for the fact that he could probably easily get another.  We best hurry and use this time wisely!”

Rhema spurred Shauvry into action and followed Ischarus back into the woods.  Their plan had worked better than they hoped so far.  The Provenience was safe; meaning that for a season there would be no more kin of the dragon produced in this village.  The red dragon had lost its claim over the people as slaves.  Sure, the dragon still awed the people to fear; but the people were at least free and on the path to making their own survival decisions.  She watched the mass of refugees fleeing the Drakontos village and hurriedly moving toward the underground passages.  She knew that Ischarus – and Semeion before him – had intentionally chosen a different path back to the mountains than the refugees.  Their paths would part soon.  With luck, they would reach the mountains before the red dragon could be alerted to the situation and hunt them down.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Rhema watched as Semeion lead Thana away from the village as quickly as possible. Abijou and his rider, the Provenience, were in tow directly behind him. Rhema turned back toward the villagers to yell more words of encouragement the people would need with respect to fleeing into the mountains. She knew the people were already dependant upon the red wyrm – they would need someone to teach them to fend for themselves. She hoped that this someone would not need to be her or Ischarus. As she pondered which words of encouragement to use, the raging battle between Ischarus, Druff, and the two Drakontos female warriors caught her attention.

From atop Elistra, Ischarus had a clear advantage. Each blow that he struck drove more and more strength out of the arms of the Drakontos warriors. Druff quickly learned to help defend Elistra from an attack while waiting for Ischarus to strike. Once Ischarus had the opportunity to drive his sword down from his high position, Druff would be careful to stay out of the way so long as the opportunity had presented itself. Three times Druff parried the attacks of one of the females and each time he followed the parry with a strike against the same female that Ischarus fought.

Once more Ischarus struck and knocked the female’s weapon clean from her hand. Without thinking about the fact that she was now unarmed, Druff followed up Ischarus’ attack with a simple strike of his own. The blow landed cleanly as the steel pierced the female’s chest. Her eyes widened in amazement at the pain and her pierced lungs searched for breath it could not find. The female’s eyes became vacant and rolled back as she slumped over dead.

Ischarus began to chastise Druff, but then realized that Rhema’s power did not have the ability to transfer their honor code. Druff was used to killing his enemies. That was what had made him great in the Drakontos village. There would be no way to alter his aggressive onslaught without having time to talk to him and convince him otherwise. They did not have that time now.

Rhema yelled when she saw that the female Drakontos warrior had been dispatched. “Ischarus, we must move now before the beast above is aroused by the commotion!”

Ischarus heard Rhema’s cry as he teamed up with Druff against the remaining Drakontos female. “Drive her off, Druff!” Ischarus commanded from atop his horse. The Drakontos warrior saw the tactical position that Ischarus was trying to guide Druff into. She knew that if she was driven back from the horseman that she would be open to an attack from a charging horse. One blow from Ischarus with the momentum of the horse behind him could certainly finish her off. Her only choice was to flee now that her own partner had been slain by Druff. As the female pulled away from the skirmish, Druff began to pursue his Drakontos kinswoman.

Ischarus watched Druff as the warrior backed away from them. “No!” Ischarus called out to Druff. “Let her go, Druff. She’ll not get far. You must help the villagers to flee!”

Rhema’s eyes widened with excitement as she heard Ischarus’ voice. Knowing that her control over Druff would give her the advantage she needed she yelled from across the stone altar. “No, Druff, pursue her. Pursue her quickly and do not let her escape!” Her voice was strong in spite of the fact that she did not enjoy contradicting Ischarus.

Ischarus spun Elistra around to face Rhema at her immediate contradiction of his orders to Druff. He knew Druff would listen to her over himself on account of her power. She would need a good reason to have countermanded his tactical order. Combat was his area of expertise.

Before he could speak, Rhema yelled to Ischarus. “It’s time to go, Ischarus. The people are fleeing and we need to move to catch up to Semeion. If he goes into the tunnels too far we’ll lose him!”

Without a word, Druff leapt into motion and chased after the female Drakontos warrior. He had little chance of catching the more fleet of foot woman, but he was determined to satisfy Rhema’s command. The woman began to pull away from Druff and Rhema smiled as the pair of Drakontos headed in the opposite direction that she and Ischarus would use for their retreat. They fled away from the direction that most of the villagers would use to get to the mountains.

Ischarus spurred Elistra into motion and the horse jerked suddenly as it rounded the altar to approach Rhema. As he approached, Rhema could tell he was confused and not pleased at all by what had happened between her and Druff.

Ischarus yelled as he drew closer to Rhema. “Why did you correct me? Druff could have been invaluable in focusing the people into their retreat!” 

Rhema simply smiled and responded, “And what would you have done when my power over him ran out? He would have begun slaughtering the innocents in his rage against us! This way he is heading in the opposite direction as we are – and perhaps more importantly in an opposite direction than his own people.”

Ischarus gave another scornful look to Rhema, but he knew she was right. Rhema had made the right call. As helpful as Druff might have been in getting the people to the underground mountain passes, he would had been a terrific liability once Rhema lost control.

Rhema ignored Ischarus’ scornful glance and spun Shauvry around so she was facing the same direction as Elistra. Her fingers tightened firmly around the reigns as she heard Ischarus begin to spur Elistra into motion once more. As he lunged by Rhema and Shauvry, Ischarus called out to his associate, “Then we’d best make full use of our time with Druff heading the other way. Semeion managed to get Druff’s horse from him, but there is no accounting for the fact that he could probably easily get another. We best hurry and use this time wisely!”

Rhema spurred Shauvry into action and followed Ischarus back into the woods. Their plan had worked better than they hoped so far. The Provenience was safe; meaning that for a season there would be no more kin of the dragon produced in this village. The red dragon had lost its claim over the people as slaves. Sure, the dragon still awed the people to fear; but the people were at least free and on the path to making their own survival decisions. She watched the mass of refugees fleeing the Drakontos village and hurriedly moving toward the underground passages. She knew that Ischarus – and Semeion before him – had intentionally chosen a different path back to the mountains than the refugees. Their paths would part soon. With luck, they would reach the mountains before the red dragon could be alerted to the situation and hunt them down.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (May 30, 2006)

Semeion rode as quickly as possible while holding the reigns of Abijou.  The Provenience was slumped over in Abijou’s saddle, making progress much more slow.  Once they were far enough away from the Drakontos village Semeion pulled Thana to a stop and guided Abijou beside him.  Thana snorted in defiance of having the horses so close together, but thankfully she did not try and kick.

Semeion slipped his waterskin out of Thana’s saddlebags and quickly removed the stopper.  He poured a touch of water into the palm of his hand to wet his skin.  Softly he reached over to the head of the Provenience and pushed back her bangs.  As she slumped over in the seat, Semeion couldn’t help but to be captivated by her beauty now that she was not angry and resisting her rescue.  Her stubbornly firm chin had softened in her weakened condition.  As Semeion pulled back her straight long black hair, he exposed the Provenience’s eyes.  They were a color unlike he’d ever seen before.  Her irises were a soft shade of gray with a hint of fiery red around the outside edge.  He looked into the Provenience’s eyes for only a few seconds before he remembered that the Provenience was desperately in need of the water in his hand.

Rather than giving her the water to drink, Semeion reached for the Provenience’s exposed forehead.  Her skin felt hot to Semeion’s touch, but her face softened further as the cool dampness of Semeion’s hand found the Provenience’s skin.  Semeion held his hand to her head until he could feel the heat of her skin return.  He added a slight amount of moisture to his hand again and this time lightly touched her right cheek.  

Slowly the eyes of the Provenience began to dilate and focus upon Semeion.  Her voice cracked from being dry and tired as she tried to speak.  “Thank you,” the Provenience spoke softly in her native tongue.  “The coolness of your hand feels good upon my skin.”

Semeion smiled and looked back to the waterskin.  He held it out for the Provenience to take in her hands as he replied in the same tongue, “Take a small drink if you are able.  Don’t drink too much at the beginning.  You haven’t had water for some time and have been in the heat of the day.”

The Provenience closed her eyes as if to signify that she understood and she slowly returned them to an open state.  She reached out her hand, but her fingers trembled at the motion.  Semeion allowed her to grip the waterskin but kept his hand slightly below her own.  Together they slowly raised the water skin up to her lips so she could take a small drink.  Water trickled onto her lips and some began to flow across her tongue.  Semeion noticed as she opened her mouth to drink that fortunately her tongue had not yet begun to swell from the dehydration.

As she drank slowly, her parched lips were unable to keep all of the water in her mouth.  A small trickle appeared out of the right corner of her mouth and ran down to beside her chin.  The water dripped from her chin onto her arm.  

As Semeion noticed the water, he gently tilted the waterskin so that the water stopped flowing.  “That’s enough for the moment, Provenience.  Keep that trickle down for a minute and you can have another drink.”

The woman nodded, and released the waterskin from her grip.  Her arms quickly fell to her side as she relaxed her muscles.  It was clear from Semeion’s perspective that she did not intend to let them fall as fast as they did.

She spoke softly, “You have saved me life…”

Semeion smiled at the note of appreciation.  “I did indeed,” Semeion replied assuredly.  “From more than death from lack of water.  Why would your father dragon leave you out so long in the sun before claiming you?”

The Provenience closed her eyes as she collected a response together in her mind.  After a few seconds, she spoke.  “It is a test that every Provenience in our village must go through.”  The words still came softly and through her cracked voice as she tried to explain.  “In order to be worthy to mate with the dragon father the Provenience must demonstrate she is willing to die from the heat of the day.  I was doing that very thing before you took me from my task.”

Semeion was glad that the Provenience was still under the effects of Rhema’s power.  He was sure this conversation wouldn’t be going nearly so well without Rhema’s help.  As Semeion listened to the Provenience speak he watched as she closed her eyes to gather her strength.  The tips of her fingers glowed with a pale red as though she held her skin up to a bright light source.  She held her hand over her eyes and Semeion watched in amazement as her burned skin improved immensely.  Her skin and her lips returned to its normal color – the effects of the sun completely vanished.  

She blinked her eyes several times and turned back to Semeion and continued to speak in a voice that seemed to have returned to normal.  “I was chosen by my people because of that gift.”

Semeion’s jaw was slightly agape as he watched the Provenience’s action.  “Did you just heal yourself?” Semeion asked in amazement.

The Provenience smiled at Semeion’s question.  “Of course I did.  That is one of my gifts.  That is why the people selected me to become one with the father dragon.”

Semeion continued to look at the Provenience as though he did not understand.

She continued, “The gift of healing is rare among my people.  It does not often happen as a result of the breeding with our father dragon.  Yet it is a gift that is very valuable on account of our father dragon’s wrath – as well as the wrath of his personal servants like Druff.  I have healed many of my people when they should have died from their beatings.  Of course, the healing was all done in secret.  This is so that few know I have this gift.”

Semeion finished her thought for her as he handed the waterskin to the Provenience.  “So by breeding you they hoped to make more with your gift?”

The Provenience nodded as Semeion spoke.  The waterskin was to her lips and she was enjoying one last drink.  When she was done she concluded, “The water is refreshing.  My healing powers can only do so much.  But nothing quenches thirst like good water.”

Semeion returned the Provenience’s gaze.  “Drink as much as you would like, then.”

The Provenience handed the waterskin to Semeion and said, “I have had enough.  You will need some for your journey.”

Semeion smiled.  “We, Provenience.  We will need it for the journey.”

The Provenience raised an eyebrow at Semeion’s assertion.  Her face wrinkled as though she disapproved but did not have the willpower to argue.  “At the very least, call me Charis.”

Semeion smiled even more broadly.  “Then I shall teach you your first word in another tongue – the tongue of the land I come from.  Your name in my tongue is pronounced ‘Grace.’  It is a name with much meaning, much of the same meaning as in your language.”

Before Charis could respond, they heard horse footfalls riding rapidly towards them.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Semeion rode as quickly as possible while holding the reigns of Abijou. The Provenience was slumped over in Abijou’s saddle, making progress much more slow. Once they were far enough away from the Drakontos village Semeion pulled Thana to a stop and guided Abijou beside him. Thana snorted in defiance of having the horses so close together, but thankfully she did not try and kick.

Semeion slipped his waterskin out of Thana’s saddlebags and quickly removed the stopper. He poured a touch of water into the palm of his hand to wet his skin. Softly he reached over to the head of the Provenience and pushed back her bangs. As she slumped over in the seat, Semeion couldn’t help but to be captivated by her beauty now that she was not angry and resisting her rescue. Her stubbornly firm chin had softened in her weakened condition. As Semeion pulled back her straight long black hair, he exposed the Provenience’s eyes. They were a color unlike he’d ever seen before. Her irises were a soft shade of gray with a hint of fiery red around the outside edge. He looked into the Provenience’s eyes for only a few seconds before he remembered that the Provenience was desperately in need of the water in his hand.

Rather than giving her the water to drink, Semeion reached for the Provenience’s exposed forehead. Her skin felt hot to Semeion’s touch, but her face softened further as the cool dampness of Semeion’s hand found the Provenience’s skin. Semeion held his hand to her head until he could feel the heat of her skin return. He added a slight amount of moisture to his hand again and this time lightly touched her right cheek. 

Slowly the eyes of the Provenience began to dilate and focus upon Semeion. Her voice cracked from being dry and tired as she tried to speak. “Thank you,” the Provenience spoke softly in her native tongue. “The coolness of your hand feels good upon my skin.”

Semeion smiled and looked back to the waterskin. He held it out for the Provenience to take in her hands as he replied in the same tongue, “Take a small drink if you are able. Don’t drink too much at the beginning. You haven’t had water for some time and have been in the heat of the day.”

The Provenience closed her eyes as if to signify that she understood and she slowly returned them to an open state. She reached out her hand, but her fingers trembled at the motion. Semeion allowed her to grip the waterskin but kept his hand slightly below her own. Together they slowly raised the water skin up to her lips so she could take a small drink. Water trickled onto her lips and some began to flow across her tongue. Semeion noticed as she opened her mouth to drink that fortunately her tongue had not yet begun to swell from the dehydration.

As she drank slowly, her parched lips were unable to keep all of the water in her mouth. A small trickle appeared out of the right corner of her mouth and ran down to beside her chin. The water dripped from her chin onto her arm. 

As Semeion noticed the water, he gently tilted the waterskin so that the water stopped flowing. “That’s enough for the moment, Provenience. Keep that trickle down for a minute and you can have another drink.”

The woman nodded, and released the waterskin from her grip. Her arms quickly fell to her side as she relaxed her muscles. It was clear from Semeion’s perspective that she did not intend to let them fall as fast as they did.

She spoke softly, “You have saved me life…”

Semeion smiled at the note of appreciation. “I did indeed,” Semeion replied assuredly. “From more than death from lack of water. Why would your father dragon leave you out so long in the sun before claiming you?”

The Provenience closed her eyes as she collected a response together in her mind. After a few seconds, she spoke. “It is a test that every Provenience in our village must go through.” The words still came softly and through her cracked voice as she tried to explain. “In order to be worthy to mate with the dragon father the Provenience must demonstrate she is willing to die from the heat of the day. I was doing that very thing before you took me from my task.”

Semeion was glad that the Provenience was still under the effects of Rhema’s power. He was sure this conversation wouldn’t be going nearly so well without Rhema’s help. As Semeion listened to the Provenience speak he watched as she closed her eyes to gather her strength. The tips of her fingers glowed with a pale red as though she held her skin up to a bright light source. She held her hand over her eyes and Semeion watched in amazement as her burned skin improved immensely. Her skin and her lips returned to its normal color – the effects of the sun completely vanished. 

She blinked her eyes several times and turned back to Semeion and continued to speak in a voice that seemed to have returned to normal. “I was chosen by my people because of that gift.”

Semeion’s jaw was slightly agape as he watched the Provenience’s action. “Did you just heal yourself?” Semeion asked in amazement.

The Provenience smiled at Semeion’s question. “Of course I did. That is one of my gifts. That is why the people selected me to become one with the father dragon.”

Semeion continued to look at the Provenience as though he did not understand.

She continued, “The gift of healing is rare among my people. It does not often happen as a result of the breeding with our father dragon. Yet it is a gift that is very valuable on account of our father dragon’s wrath – as well as the wrath of his personal servants like Druff. I have healed many of my people when they should have died from their beatings. Of course, the healing was all done in secret. This is so that few know I have this gift.”

Semeion finished her thought for her as he handed the waterskin to the Provenience. “So by breeding you they hoped to make more with your gift?”

The Provenience nodded as Semeion spoke. The waterskin was to her lips and she was enjoying one last drink. When she was done she concluded, “The water is refreshing. My healing powers can only do so much. But nothing quenches thirst like good water.”

Semeion returned the Provenience’s gaze. “Drink as much as you would like, then.”

The Provenience handed the waterskin to Semeion and said, “I have had enough. You will need some for your journey.”

Semeion smiled. “We, Provenience. We will need it for the journey.”

The Provenience raised an eyebrow at Semeion’s assertion. Her face wrinkled as though she disapproved but did not have the willpower to argue. “At the very least, call me Charis.”

Semeion smiled even more broadly. “Then I shall teach you your first word in another tongue – the tongue of the land I come from. Your name in my tongue is pronounced ‘Grace.’ It is a name with much meaning, much of the same meaning as in your language.”

Before Charis could respond, they heard horse footfalls riding rapidly towards them.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Piratecat (May 30, 2006)

You're a good writer.

The color is really distracting me, though! Maybe I just dislike large blocks of colored text on the default black background, but it's kind of off-putting. Which is a shame, because I'm enjoying the story.

EDIT: Your table of contents is a cool idea! You can also edit in a link that goes right to the specific post, by entering the post number in the url. For instance, this post would be: 

http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?p=2856868#post2856868

So I could type:

 {url=http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?p=2856868#post2856868}Piratecat's comment{/url}

replacing the {} with [], and it would make an actual link.  Piratecat's comment

Sorry, I'm distracting. More story.


----------



## Nonlethal Force (May 30, 2006)

*REPLY to READER, not an update ...*

Thanks for the reply.  It is a shame about the color.  Unfortuantely that seems to be a bone of contention among play-by-posters and Story Hour writers here.  Some really like the color, some find it really distracting.  I like it because it helps me keep my focus as I read from a screen.

If you like my storyhour, though, you could always copy and paste into word (or some other word processor).  A copy/paste doesn't save any of the color info, just the text.  I know that is a bunch of work for a simple Story Hour, though.  Just a suggestion for compromise ...    [*EDIT:* On account of the addition of the Color-Free Sblock section I hope this point is now a non-issue!]

Anyway, thank you for you compliment.  I have intentionally shortened the length of the Story Hour much in respect to comments that you have made in other threads about Story Hour length.  I had been going for about 3,000 words.  But now that seems too daunting to read in one sitting and it can't typically be written in one sitting.  I'm going for about 1,000 words now.  Hopefully that'll mean quicker updates - and although they are shorter it'll probably mean a faster story told in the long run.

Again, sorry about the color.  If I find that the majority of people reading this Story Hour would prefer me to not use color, I'll gladly change the format.  Please let me know if there are other opinions!  Thanks.  

EDIT: The link is cool.  I was not aware you could do it and still be able to see the rest of the posts that follow.  I guess I was confusing Showpost with Showthread!  Thanks again.

Edit 2: Table of contents now actualy works!


----------



## Nonlethal Force (May 30, 2006)

Before Charis and Semeion were able to turn away and get their horses to duck out of sight, a pair of horses riding relentlessly turned the corner.  The rider on the right pulled back hard on the reigns to get her horse to perform a sit-stop maneuver to avoid slamming into the back of Abijou.  Semeion smiled broadly as he recognized the familiar voice.

Rhema yelled as her horse performed the desperate maneuver.  “Whoa, Shauvry!” 

As Shauvry performed the maneuver Ischarus sailed past Semeion and Charis on the galloping Elistra.  He stood lightly in the saddle and slowed Elistra back into a slow trot and then eventually into a walk.  By this time he was nearly a hundred yards down the horse trail.  Once Elistra was under control he turned her around and began to walk her back to the group.

Abijou was startled by the loud sound coming from behind and as Elistra galloped past he spooked slightly.  Semeion clenched the reigns tightly and didn’t allow Abijou to pull away.  The net result of all the commotion was that Abijou was permitted to spin his hind quarters in a clockwise circle until he was now facing the opposite direction as Thana and Semeion.  Abijou snorted loudly as the cloud of dust rose from the ground underneath the hind quarters of Shauvry.  As luck would have it, the wind was coming from behind Shauvry and Rhema and thus blew the cloud of dust right into Thana, Abijou, Charis, and Semeion.  Charis let out a long string of coughs as the cloud passed her by and filled her already rough throat.

Rhema looked to Semeion with disgust.  “What are you doing?” Rhema screamed at Semeion.  “Why are you just standing here in the middle of the road wasting time?  Do you not know what exactly that dragon is going to do once Druff comes to his senses?”

Semeion smiled grimly.  “He will roast every living person he can find until she is found.”  He pointed to Charis as he spoke.

Rhema looked startled at Semeion's words.  As he spoke and pointed to Charis, Rhema focused on her for the first time as she sat atop Abijou.  “You’re … you’re not dehydrated and burned by the sun anymore.”

Semeion turned his head to look at Rhema as she spoke and then focused in the opposite direction upon the approaching Ischarus.  “She’s a healer, Rhema.  She was being bred with the dragon to produce other healers for the sake of her people.”  Semeion turned for a second and translated to Charis what had been said.

Charis looked angrily at Semeion and added, “Which my people will never need because our father dragon will kill them all looking for me!”

Ischarus replied from afar, although he was fast closing the distance.  “Your father dragon was going to kill them all anyway, Provenience.”

Chairs jerked the reigns out of Semeion’s hand and used them to spin Abijou around to face Ischarus as he approached.  Rhema used the time to bring Shauvry back into a standing position.  As Charis peered towards Ischarus the red edges of her gray eyes increased in intensity.  She could feel the anger bursting inside of her.

Semeion noticed that Charis had been taken with a sudden agitation.  He asked of Rhema’s power quietly.  “Are you losing your power over her?”

Rhema nodded in the affirmative.  “She must come to terms with what is happening on her own, now.  It is not right for me to take control any more.”

As Rhema and Semeion had their side conversation, Charis lashed out in angry speech against Ischarus.  “What do you know of my people?  What do you know of the ways of the dragon born?  What do you know of the affairs of the Provenience?  I could have brought peace to my people through my healing.”

Ischarus shook his head, internally debating as to whether or not direct confrontation would work with Charis.  He bit his lip in a steely resolve and mentally went through a weapons check in case things got ugly.  “I, too, am dragon born.  But my father dragon does not abuse us the way that your father dragon abuses your people.  My father dragon rules with justice, mercy, and compassion rather than fear of utter destruction.  Where your father dragon used your people to create loyal and fearful servants, my father dragon taught us out of his own knowledge and raised us to respect life as a gift and not a resource to be used and expended.”

Charis raised an angry finger as Ischarus challenged her.  She prepared to speak, but Ischarus cut her off.  “Tell me honestly that what I said is not true.  Yes, your father dragon protected you from the harm that can come to you in this world, but at what expense?  He protected you not out of love but out of greed.  You all are pawns to his greater master plan – and the greed of a red dragon is exceeded by none!  I have it on Druff’s authority that once you were taken by your father dragon that your people were to be expunged.  You were to breed with your father dragon many times over and produce the building blocks for a new people and a new community.  Only a select few were to be spared out of your whole people.  What we did was give them a chance to flee before the coming wrath of your father dragon.”

Ischarus knew that his words were angry in tone, but once he had committed himself to direct confrontation he knew that he had to keep speaking until the Provenience broke in spirit.  As Ischarus prepared to finish his speech he rose in his saddle so that he was in a standing position, high above Charis’ head.  “We did not bring the wrath of your father dragon upon your people.  The wrath was already coming because your father dragon rules selfishly and out of greed.  The wrath was going to destroy them already.  The wrath was going to overtake them without warning.  We provided them a means of escape so their lives might be spared.”

Charis looked up to Ischarus.  Her angry soul searched for words to shout back at Ischarus, but none of them made sense anymore.  She knew that if what Ischarus had said was true then these three strangers had given her people their only chance at life.  She desperately wanted to hate Ischarus for his words.  She wanted to lash out and call him a liar.  She wanted to be the Provenience and bring healing to her people.  A people that Ischarus claimed would have been dead without warning.  

As the turmoil boiled inside of her, her hands began to shake.  In a weak effort to stop the shaking she clenched her fists tightly around the reigns.  As she tightened her muscles to prevent her hands from shaking, the shaking merely spread up her arms.  Her forearms and elbows began to shake.  Suddenly her mind found something that she could focus on.  She licked her lips quickly and mustered the words in her draconic language.

Charis spoke with an angered tone.  “Paash Ahrah.” 

Ischarus winced slightly as he was caught unprepared for the fact that she commanded magic.  Fortunately the spell was not against him.  Following Charis’ words a shimmering transparent golden field expanded from her skin and formed a solid sphere around her body at a distance of a solitary foot.  Instinctively Semeion heard the words and reached out to touch Charis.  He was hopeful that his earlier compassion would cause a soothing affect to come over Charis.

Semeion’s hand reached past the shimmering golden field and his fingers passed through it without any resistance.  Charis jumped in shock when his outstretched fingers caught her shoulder.  She turned and asked, “You can touch me?”

Ischarus settled back into his seat, knowing that his challenge had begun to work.  He was grateful for Semeion’s physical assertion, hoping that if the focus could be taken off of him Charis would be given time to contemplate his words in the sanctity of her own mind rather than through further confrontation.

Semeion nodded as Charis turned, slightly pulling his hand back from her shoulder.  He was careful to not put his fingers entirely out of the shimmering golden field.  “Indeed, it would seem that I can.  Why does this surprise you?”

Charis swallowed hard as her mind churned fervently trying to interpret the meaning of this action.  “My words protect me from the touch of my people – even the touch of Druff.  When I speak them and am in my field, only a rare few people can touch me and not be wounded.  Those who could touch me were my closest friends.  They were the ones wanting to use me to bring healing to my people.”

Semeion snatched up the opportunity as quickly as it was presented.  “Then trust me, Charis.  If this field protects you from all those except who are good or pure in heart, then you know what I am. Trust me.  Follow me.  I can lead you away from here.”

Charis slowly licked her lips once more, her mind still churning hard.  Her lips parted as if to speak, but before she could utter any sound a loud screech pierced the air.  It was a cry.  Actually, it was an angry cry.  It was an angry cry of what could only be assumed to be a large red dragon.

Rhema had been silent until now.  There was great excitement in her voice as she spoke.  “We need to move, people, or we will be dinner.  Ischarus, lead the way quickly.  Charis, follow me.  Semeion will ride behind you for your protection.”  She didn’t think about the fact that Charis couldn’t understand her language without the aid of her telepathic powers.

Ischarus spun Elistra around and immediately began galloping away.  Rhema pulled Shauvry around Abijou and charged after Elistra.  Semeion slipped his hand from near Charis’ shoulder down to her trembling hand that held the reigns.  His warm hand embraced hers and he noticed it was cold.  “You can trust me, Charis.  Trust me.”

Charis looked into Semeion’s eyes and then down to their joined hands.  She quickly nodded and checked Semeion’s eyes.  They were staring back into her own.  She looked up to the sky and quickly stood in the saddle.  In her draconic language she yelled, “Ride, Abijou!”

Semeion spurred Thana into a gallop after Abijou and Charis.  As he followed, he noticed that Charis often turned around to check the sky.  As they began to ride hard for the mountains another piercing draconic cry could be heard echoing through the forest.  This one was much closer than the last.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Before Charis and Semeion were able to turn away and get their horses to duck out of sight, a pair of horses riding relentlessly turned the corner. The rider on the right pulled back hard on the reigns to get her horse to perform a sit-stop maneuver to avoid slamming into the back of Abijou. Semeion smiled broadly as he recognized the familiar voice.

Rhema yelled as her horse performed the desperate maneuver. “Whoa, Shauvry!” 

As Shauvry performed the maneuver Ischarus sailed past Semeion and Charis on the galloping Elistra. He stood lightly in the saddle and slowed Elistra back into a slow trot and then eventually into a walk. By this time he was nearly a hundred yards down the horse trail. Once Elistra was under control he turned her around and began to walk her back to the group.

Abijou was startled by the loud sound coming from behind and as Elistra galloped past he spooked slightly. Semeion clenched the reigns tightly and didn’t allow Abijou to pull away. The net result of all the commotion was that Abijou was permitted to spin his hind quarters in a clockwise circle until he was now facing the opposite direction as Thana and Semeion. Abijou snorted loudly as the cloud of dust rose from the ground underneath the hind quarters of Shauvry. As luck would have it, the wind was coming from behind Shauvry and Rhema and thus blew the cloud of dust right into Thana, Abijou, Charis, and Semeion. Charis let out a long string of coughs as the cloud passed her by and filled her already rough throat.

Rhema looked to Semeion with disgust. “What are you doing?” Rhema screamed at Semeion. “Why are you just standing here in the middle of the road wasting time? Do you not know what exactly that dragon is going to do once Druff comes to his senses?”

Semeion smiled grimly. “He will roast every living person he can find until she is found.” He pointed to Charis as he spoke.

Rhema looked startled at Semeion's words. As he spoke and pointed to Charis, Rhema focused on her for the first time as she sat atop Abijou. “You’re … you’re not dehydrated and burned by the sun anymore.”

Semeion turned his head to look at Rhema as she spoke and then focused in the opposite direction upon the approaching Ischarus. “She’s a healer, Rhema. She was being bred with the dragon to produce other healers for the sake of her people.” Semeion turned for a second and translated to Charis what had been said.

Charis looked angrily at Semeion and added, “Which my people will never need because our father dragon will kill them all looking for me!”

Ischarus replied from afar, although he was fast closing the distance. “Your father dragon was going to kill them all anyway, Provenience.”

Chairs jerked the reigns out of Semeion’s hand and used them to spin Abijou around to face Ischarus as he approached. Rhema used the time to bring Shauvry back into a standing position. As Charis peered towards Ischarus the red edges of her gray eyes increased in intensity. She could feel the anger bursting inside of her.

Semeion noticed that Charis had been taken with a sudden agitation. He asked of Rhema’s power quietly. “Are you losing your power over her?”

Rhema nodded in the affirmative. “She must come to terms with what is happening on her own, now. It is not right for me to take control any more.”

As Rhema and Semeion had their side conversation, Charis lashed out in angry speech against Ischarus. “What do you know of my people? What do you know of the ways of the dragon born? What do you know of the affairs of the Provenience? I could have brought peace to my people through my healing.”

Ischarus shook his head, internally debating as to whether or not direct confrontation would work with Charis. He bit his lip in a steely resolve and mentally went through a weapons check in case things got ugly. “I, too, am dragon born. But my father dragon does not abuse us the way that your father dragon abuses your people. My father dragon rules with justice, mercy, and compassion rather than fear of utter destruction. Where your father dragon used your people to create loyal and fearful servants, my father dragon taught us out of his own knowledge and raised us to respect life as a gift and not a resource to be used and expended.”

Charis raised an angry finger as Ischarus challenged her. She prepared to speak, but Ischarus cut her off. “Tell me honestly that what I said is not true. Yes, your father dragon protected you from the harm that can come to you in this world, but at what expense? He protected you not out of love but out of greed. You all are pawns to his greater master plan – and the greed of a red dragon is exceeded by none! I have it on Druff’s authority that once you were taken by your father dragon that your people were to be expunged. You were to breed with your father dragon many times over and produce the building blocks for a new people and a new community. Only a select few were to be spared out of your whole people. What we did was give them a chance to flee before the coming wrath of your father dragon.”

Ischarus knew that his words were angry in tone, but once he had committed himself to direct confrontation he knew that he had to keep speaking until the Provenience broke in spirit. As Ischarus prepared to finish his speech he rose in his saddle so that he was in a standing position, high above Charis’ head. “We did not bring the wrath of your father dragon upon your people. The wrath was already coming because your father dragon rules selfishly and out of greed. The wrath was going to destroy them already. The wrath was going to overtake them without warning. We provided them a means of escape so their lives might be spared.”

Charis looked up to Ischarus. Her angry soul searched for words to shout back at Ischarus, but none of them made sense anymore. She knew that if what Ischarus had said was true then these three strangers had given her people their only chance at life. She desperately wanted to hate Ischarus for his words. She wanted to lash out and call him a liar. She wanted to be the Provenience and bring healing to her people. A people that Ischarus claimed would have been dead without warning. 

As the turmoil boiled inside of her, her hands began to shake. In a weak effort to stop the shaking she clenched her fists tightly around the reigns. As she tightened her muscles to prevent her hands from shaking, the shaking merely spread up her arms. Her forearms and elbows began to shake. Suddenly her mind found something that she could focus on. She licked her lips quickly and mustered the words in her draconic language.

Charis spoke with an angered tone. “Paash Ahrah.” 

Ischarus winced slightly as he was caught unprepared for the fact that she commanded magic. Fortunately the spell was not against him. Following Charis’ words a shimmering transparent golden field expanded from her skin and formed a solid sphere around her body at a distance of a solitary foot. Instinctively Semeion heard the words and reached out to touch Charis. He was hopeful that his earlier compassion would cause a soothing affect to come over Charis.

Semeion’s hand reached past the shimmering golden field and his fingers passed through it without any resistance. Charis jumped in shock when his outstretched fingers caught her shoulder. She turned and asked, “You can touch me?”

Ischarus settled back into his seat, knowing that his challenge had begun to work. He was grateful for Semeion’s physical assertion, hoping that if the focus could be taken off of him Charis would be given time to contemplate his words in the sanctity of her own mind rather than through further confrontation.

Semeion nodded as Charis turned, slightly pulling his hand back from her shoulder. He was careful to not put his fingers entirely out of the shimmering golden field. “Indeed, it would seem that I can. Why does this surprise you?”

Charis swallowed hard as her mind churned fervently trying to interpret the meaning of this action. “My words protect me from the touch of my people – even the touch of Druff. When I speak them and am in my field, only a rare few people can touch me and not be wounded. Those who could touch me were my closest friends. They were the ones wanting to use me to bring healing to my people.”

Semeion snatched up the opportunity as quickly as it was presented. “Then trust me, Charis. If this field protects you from all those except who are good or pure in heart, then you know what I am. Trust me. Follow me. I can lead you away from here.”

Charis slowly licked her lips once more, her mind still churning hard. Her lips parted as if to speak, but before she could utter any sound a loud screech pierced the air. It was a cry. Actually, it was an angry cry. It was an angry cry of what could only be assumed to be a large red dragon.

Rhema had been silent until now. There was great excitement in her voice as she spoke. “We need to move, people, or we will be dinner. Ischarus, lead the way quickly. Charis, follow me. Semeion will ride behind you for your protection.” She didn’t think about the fact that Charis couldn’t understand her language without the aid of her telepathic powers.

Ischarus spun Elistra around and immediately began galloping away. Rhema pulled Shauvry around Abijou and charged after Elistra. Semeion slipped his hand from near Charis’ shoulder down to her trembling hand that held the reigns. His warm hand embraced hers and he noticed it was cold. “You can trust me, Charis. Trust me.”

Charis looked into Semeion’s eyes and then down to their joined hands. She quickly nodded and checked Semeion’s eyes. They were staring back into her own. She looked up to the sky and quickly stood in the saddle. In her draconic language she yelled, “Ride, Abijou!”

Semeion spurred Thana into a gallop after Abijou and Charis. As he followed, he noticed that Charis often turned around to check the sky. As they began to ride hard for the mountains another piercing draconic cry could be heard echoing through the forest. This one was much closer than the last.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jun 25, 2006)

The quartet of riders thundered hard along the trail that had been blazed through the trees leading up to the mountainside.  As they rode hard, each of them had different ways of dealing with the piercing draconic wails that seemed to grow increasingly closer to the party.  Ischarus, who was in the lead, focused his black eyes toward the coming branches, hacking at the smaller ones that came near his head so as to knock them out of the way for others as they passed by.  His intense concentration on the path before him kept him from turning in his saddle too often.

Rhema followed Ischarus by a few horse lengths and worked hard to keep Shauvry at that distance.  Shauvry was the natural leader of the horses, but Rhema knew that Ischarus was better suited to lead the charge to the relative safety of the mountainous passages.  Shauvry fought the demotion to second in line with every step, but Rhema remained focused on keeping her mount in line.  She allowed enough space between herself and Ischarus so as to not give Elistra or Shauvry any time to nip and kick at each other.

Charis wavered in her devotion to riding hard toward the mountain passage.  In her mind she knew that the escape plan that she had been kidnapped into had a decent chance for success; but she also knew that failure would mean disastrous consequences for her and death for her new companions.  With each cry from above Charis turned and focused on Rhema’s back, spurring Abijou on in her draconic tongue.  After a few seconds of intense riding she would catch Rhema and Shauvry and her focus would begin to wane as she turned in her saddle to look in the direction from which she assumed the dragon would come.  She stared backwards into the trees until the next cry; and then this cycle would start over again.  Abijou ebbed and flowed between following Rhema tightly and loosely.

Semeion knew he was ill prepared for another battle with a dragon.  It was not even so long ago that he had lost his master to a large green dragon.  Most of that battle was his own fault, especially the disastrous consequences.  He had learned from that mistake and desired not to be in a position to fall prey to such a powerful foe again.  Although a great river of fear and adrenaline coursed through his veins, he also could see Charis’ wavering courage before him.  Each time she turned to stare through the treetops Abijou would slow and lose the immediate pace of Elistra and Shauvry before him.  Semeion knew that Charis must not be left, so he began to focus on mimicking Abijou’s riding pattern and causing Thana to slow and race accordingly.  Soon Charis’ indecisive riding became Semeion’s motivation as their foe drew closer to them.

As they neared the mountainous passageway that they had used to cross from Tongra to Quehalost, Semeion noticed a small break in the canopy.  As Charis rode under the break, Semeion saw the light that had been shining through the break vanish into dark shadow.  A shrill cry came from directly above the canopy and as Semeion looked up he saw the heavily armored body of a great red wyrm. His biceps tightened in fear and his fingers gripped the reigns hard enough that his fingernails drew blood from the flesh of the palms of his own hands.  As his body tensed in uncontrollable fear his mind raced under the training of his master.

The young mage whispered aloud to nobody in particular.  “Why has he not attacked?  He knows our position and could easily have attacked.” 

Semeion’s mind turned the question over and over again as his lips quietly spoke.  He rode Thana underneath the same break in the canopy that now revealed the bright light as the dragon completed another circle above.  Suddenly his eyes snapped open with understanding.  As he began to open his mouth in a yell he heard another shrill cry and his voice failed him.  His mind now darted completely with fear.  Logic left him.  As he looked ahead he could see the tree line break nearly thirty feet before the mountainous passage began.  The dragon had been waiting for them here where it could strike without worry of the trees.  His mind knew that was the dragon’s strategy, but his body could do nothing but grip the horse in fear.  Blood trickled down Thana’s reigns.

In fact, all of the riders had frozen in fear.  Ischarus’ bravery melted away in panic.  Rhema’s strength of mind dissipated into sheer terror.  Charis’ compassionate love for her people turned to selfish flight designed save her own skin.  Semeion’s magical prowess left him in exchange for a simple dread.  The dragon knew there were few intelligent creatures in the land that could withstand its awesome presence.  It had planned this attack perfectly.  It soared above the trees waiting to descend upon the quartet once the trees no longer sheltered them from the complete view of its fearsome presence.

Suddenly, Elistra broke through the tree line at full speed carrying Ischarus.  Out of fear, Ischarus had stowed his sword so as to cling tightly to the reigns of Elistra.  The dragon had just begun another circle and had misjudged the superior speed of the horses.  Where the dragon had anticipated the horses to become sluggish and indecisive against the draconic fear they had actually become faster as their flight instinct took over.  The giant red wyrm could only watch as Elistra easily galloped the open distance between forest and mountain passage.

Only seconds after Elistra sped Ischarus to safety the dragon banked hard in anticipation of the rest of the horses.  It would have to cut its large swooping circle short if it desired to avoid the disastrous consequences of its oversight.  Shauvry emerged out of the forest in a full gallop and shot across to open plain.  The dragon knew it was still too far away to effectively use its fiery breath of doom and it contemplated casting a spell.  At this range, however, the spell would be unlikely to have the desired effect.  Much to its own anger it watched as Shauvry escorted Rhema into the caves and safety.

Abijou needed no encouragement from Charis, which was most likely a good thing since Charis was unable to give it courage.  Charis dared not even look up as Abijou leapt from the forest edge into the clearing.  The dragon had closed on its mark enough now that it could fire either spell or breath and hit Charis with ease.  The beast recognized the rider as one of its own kin.  In fact, the dragon recognized Charis as the one it was to mate.  Internal jealousy fueled its rage and the beast uttered a guttural cry of anger in its own draconic tongue.  “If you shall not have me, none shall have you, either!”

Searing orange and red flames burst through the air as Abijou galloped for its safety in the cave.  The heat crept up immediately behind the horse and spurred Abijou to safety with only minor scorch marks.  The majority of Abijou’s problems were a singed hind quarter where the hair had melted from the heat.  Besides these minor wounds, Charis and her mount had safely managed to flee into the cave.

Thana remained the only horse remaining in the forest as Abijou darted into the open.  Seeing that Abijou was bound for making the journey Thana spurred herself into greater stride as the flames leapt across the earth before her.  As the grasses ignited and spread a line of fire before her, Thana leapt into the air to avoid stepping into the hottest portion of the flame.

The dragon was ready for this maneuver, however.  In mid-flight it had begun a minor dive straight for where it assumed Thana would leap.  The huge tail of the dragon struck Semeion hard in midair, knocking him from the saddle.  His bloodied hands clinched the reigns, but as Thana came back to the ground Semeion’s head thumped hard against the ground.  The young mage was knocked unconscious upon impact.  Landing in such close proximity to the burning grass did not help his condition any, either.

The large dragon surged upward as it performed a roll in mid-flight.  It turned and spotted its retreating prey.  A grim smile crossed over its lips as it spotted the unconscious Semeion being dragged by the wildly panicked horse.  The great wyrm flapped its wings hard as it dove with all its speed toward the entrance of the cave.

Thana managed to clear the entrance only seconds before the massive dragon claws hit the soil heavily.  The beast howled as its prey slipped away into the cave that was much too small for it to pursue.  What it didn’t notice, however, was that as Thana entered the cave Semeion bounced his head solidly against the wall and jarred his unconscious grip free from the horses’ reigns.  Semeion lay just inside the cave within easy reach of the dragon’s massive claws.

Ischarus and Rhema had regained their composure upon entering the cave and freeing themselves from the evil and terrifying presence of the dragon.  As Ischarus noticed Semeion’s condition and the now uncontrolled fleeing Thana, he dismounted and shouted to Rhema.  “Let Thana run out her fear and bring her back.”  The panicked horse galloped between them as he spoke.  “Catch her while you still can and return to us.  I’ll save the mage.”

Rhema nodded and in a single motion spurred Shauvry into motion and sped down the hallway.  Ischarus charged to the entrance of the cave, hoping to grab Semeion before the dragon could realize that he was there.  Ischarus was knocked off of his feet and into the wall when the dragon collided with the ground in his crushing attempt that missed only by seconds.  As Ischarus reached Semeion and hefted his arms over his own shoulder so as to carry him slung down his back, the swordsman could see that the dragon was turning to position itself a dragon’s pace away from the cave.  Ischarus moved as quickly as possible away from the entrance, hoping to elude the dragon’s reach.  With his back turned to the dragon, he could not see what the dragon was preparing to do.

Charis could see the danger from where she sat upon Abijou.  In the draconic language of her father dragon she yelled, “Run!  Fire coming!  Run hard!”  She turned Abijou away from the entrance and spurred him into motion, grabbing Elistra’s reigns and jerking her into motion in the process.  

The ancient dragon had not stopped to check the entrance of the tunnel.  Rather the beast had simply planned on incinerating the whole area.  As it backed off from the cave it gave itself enough room to inhale deeply and spew fire for over a hundred feet into the cave.  Ischarus felt the heat and saw the flames surround his feet and lick at his boots.  He had managed to get close enough to the edge of the dragon’s range so as to only take minor burning damage.  He also knew that Semeion had provided him with much needed cover being draped across his back.  

The dragon howled once more as it peered into the cave and realized it could not see on account of the residual flames and the increasing darkness within.  From outside the cave, the dragon had no idea of knowing how successful the attack had been.

The draconic howl brought Ischarus back into a deep focus towards moving away from the entrance.  He realized that the sacrifice of an unconscious mage may well have been his last.  Semeion had formed a rather effective barrier against the flames.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
The quartet of riders thundered hard along the trail that had been blazed through the trees leading up to the mountainside. As they rode hard, each of them had different ways of dealing with the piercing draconic wails that seemed to grow increasingly closer to the party. Ischarus, who was in the lead, focused his black eyes toward the coming branches, hacking at the smaller ones that came near his head so as to knock them out of the way for others as they passed by. His intense concentration on the path before him kept him from turning in his saddle too often.

Rhema followed Ischarus by a few horse lengths and worked hard to keep Shauvry at that distance. Shauvry was the natural leader of the horses, but Rhema knew that Ischarus was better suited to lead the charge to the relative safety of the mountainous passages. Shauvry fought the demotion to second in line with every step, but Rhema remained focused on keeping her mount in line. She allowed enough space between herself and Ischarus so as to not give Elistra or Shauvry any time to nip and kick at each other.

Charis wavered in her devotion to riding hard toward the mountain passage. In her mind she knew that the escape plan that she had been kidnapped into had a decent chance for success; but she also knew that failure would mean disastrous consequences for her and death for her new companions. With each cry from above Charis turned and focused on Rhema’s back, spurring Abijou on in her draconic tongue. After a few seconds of intense riding she would catch Rhema and Shauvry and her focus would begin to wane as she turned in her saddle to look in the direction from which she assumed the dragon would come. She stared backwards into the trees until the next cry; and then this cycle would start over again. Abijou ebbed and flowed between following Rhema tightly and loosely.

Semeion knew he was ill prepared for another battle with a dragon. It was not even so long ago that he had lost his master to a large green dragon. Most of that battle was his own fault, especially the disastrous consequences. He had learned from that mistake and desired not to be in a position to fall prey to such a powerful foe again. Although a great river of fear and adrenaline coursed through his veins, he also could see Charis’ wavering courage before him. Each time she turned to stare through the treetops Abijou would slow and lose the immediate pace of Elistra and Shauvry before him. Semeion knew that Charis must not be left, so he began to focus on mimicking Abijou’s riding pattern and causing Thana to slow and race accordingly. Soon Charis’ indecisive riding became Semeion’s motivation as their foe drew closer to them.

As they neared the mountainous passageway that they had used to cross from Tongra to Quehalost, Semeion noticed a small break in the canopy. As Charis rode under the break, Semeion saw the light that had been shining through the break vanish into dark shadow. A shrill cry came from directly above the canopy and as Semeion looked up he saw the heavily armored body of a great red wyrm. His biceps tightened in fear and his fingers gripped the reigns hard enough that his fingernails drew blood from the flesh of the palms of his own hands. As his body tensed in uncontrollable fear his mind raced under the training of his master.

The young mage whispered aloud to nobody in particular. “Why has he not attacked? He knows our position and could easily have attacked.” 

Semeion’s mind turned the question over and over again as his lips quietly spoke. He rode Thana underneath the same break in the canopy that now revealed the bright light as the dragon completed another circle above. Suddenly his eyes snapped open with understanding. As he began to open his mouth in a yell he heard another shrill cry and his voice failed him. His mind now darted completely with fear. Logic left him. As he looked ahead he could see the tree line break nearly thirty feet before the mountainous passage began. The dragon had been waiting for them here where it could strike without worry of the trees. His mind knew that was the dragon’s strategy, but his body could do nothing but grip the horse in fear. Blood trickled down Thana’s reigns.

In fact, all of the riders had frozen in fear. Ischarus’ bravery melted away in panic. Rhema’s strength of mind dissipated into sheer terror. Charis’ compassionate love for her people turned to selfish flight designed save her own skin. Semeion’s magical prowess left him in exchange for a simple dread. The dragon knew there were few intelligent creatures in the land that could withstand its awesome presence. It had planned this attack perfectly. It soared above the trees waiting to descend upon the quartet once the trees no longer sheltered them from the complete view of its fearsome presence.

Suddenly, Elistra broke through the tree line at full speed carrying Ischarus. Out of fear, Ischarus had stowed his sword so as to cling tightly to the reigns of Elistra. The dragon had just begun another circle and had misjudged the superior speed of the horses. Where the dragon had anticipated the horses to become sluggish and indecisive against the draconic fear they had actually become faster as their flight instinct took over. The giant red wyrm could only watch as Elistra easily galloped the open distance between forest and mountain passage.

Only seconds after Elistra sped Ischarus to safety the dragon banked hard in anticipation of the rest of the horses. It would have to cut its large swooping circle short if it desired to avoid the disastrous consequences of its oversight. Shauvry emerged out of the forest in a full gallop and shot across to open plain. The dragon knew it was still too far away to effectively use its fiery breath of doom and it contemplated casting a spell. At this range, however, the spell would be unlikely to have the desired effect. Much to its own anger it watched as Shauvry escorted Rhema into the caves and safety.

Abijou needed no encouragement from Charis, which was most likely a good thing since Charis was unable to give it courage. Charis dared not even look up as Abijou leapt from the forest edge into the clearing. The dragon had closed on its mark enough now that it could fire either spell or breath and hit Charis with ease. The beast recognized the rider as one of its own kin. In fact, the dragon recognized Charis as the one it was to mate. Internal jealousy fueled its rage and the beast uttered a guttural cry of anger in its own draconic tongue. “If you shall not have me, none shall have you, either!”

Searing orange and red flames burst through the air as Abijou galloped for its safety in the cave. The heat crept up immediately behind the horse and spurred Abijou to safety with only minor scorch marks. The majority of Abijou’s problems were a singed hind quarter where the hair had melted from the heat. Besides these minor wounds, Charis and her mount had safely managed to flee into the cave.

Thana remained the only horse remaining in the forest as Abijou darted into the open. Seeing that Abijou was bound for making the journey Thana spurred herself into greater stride as the flames leapt across the earth before her. As the grasses ignited and spread a line of fire before her, Thana leapt into the air to avoid stepping into the hottest portion of the flame.

The dragon was ready for this maneuver, however. In mid-flight it had begun a minor dive straight for where it assumed Thana would leap. The huge tail of the dragon struck Semeion hard in midair, knocking him from the saddle. His bloodied hands clinched the reigns, but as Thana came back to the ground Semeion’s head thumped hard against the ground. The young mage was knocked unconscious upon impact. Landing in such close proximity to the burning grass did not help his condition any, either.

The large dragon surged upward as it performed a roll in mid-flight. It turned and spotted its retreating prey. A grim smile crossed over its lips as it spotted the unconscious Semeion being dragged by the wildly panicked horse. The great wyrm flapped its wings hard as it dove with all its speed toward the entrance of the cave.

Thana managed to clear the entrance only seconds before the massive dragon claws hit the soil heavily. The beast howled as its prey slipped away into the cave that was much too small for it to pursue. What it didn’t notice, however, was that as Thana entered the cave Semeion bounced his head solidly against the wall and jarred his unconscious grip free from the horses’ reigns. Semeion lay just inside the cave within easy reach of the dragon’s massive claws.

Ischarus and Rhema had regained their composure upon entering the cave and freeing themselves from the evil and terrifying presence of the dragon. As Ischarus noticed Semeion’s condition and the now uncontrolled fleeing Thana, he dismounted and shouted to Rhema. “Let Thana run out her fear and bring her back.” The panicked horse galloped between them as he spoke. “Catch her while you still can and return to us. I’ll save the mage.”

Rhema nodded and in a single motion spurred Shauvry into motion and sped down the hallway. Ischarus charged to the entrance of the cave, hoping to grab Semeion before the dragon could realize that he was there. Ischarus was knocked off of his feet and into the wall when the dragon collided with the ground in his crushing attempt that missed only by seconds. As Ischarus reached Semeion and hefted his arms over his own shoulder so as to carry him slung down his back, the swordsman could see that the dragon was turning to position itself a dragon’s pace away from the cave. Ischarus moved as quickly as possible away from the entrance, hoping to elude the dragon’s reach. With his back turned to the dragon, he could not see what the dragon was preparing to do.

Charis could see the danger from where she sat upon Abijou. In the draconic language of her father dragon she yelled, “Run! Fire coming! Run hard!” She turned Abijou away from the entrance and spurred him into motion, grabbing Elistra’s reigns and jerking her into motion in the process. 

The ancient dragon had not stopped to check the entrance of the tunnel. Rather the beast had simply planned on incinerating the whole area. As it backed off from the cave it gave itself enough room to inhale deeply and spew fire for over a hundred feet into the cave. Ischarus felt the heat and saw the flames surround his feet and lick at his boots. He had managed to get close enough to the edge of the dragon’s range so as to only take minor burning damage. He also knew that Semeion had provided him with much needed cover being draped across his back. 

The dragon howled once more as it peered into the cave and realized it could not see on account of the residual flames and the increasing darkness within. From outside the cave, the dragon had no idea of knowing how successful the attack had been.

The draconic howl brought Ischarus back into a deep focus towards moving away from the entrance. He realized that the sacrifice of an unconscious mage may well have been his last. Semeion had formed a rather effective barrier against the flames.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jun 25, 2006)

*Chapter Four: FINDING THE WAY*

Ischarus stumbled a few dozen steps forward before the weight of his companion aided the heat in overcoming his strength.  He was far enough into the tunnel to no longer be able to see the tunnel entrance, although the raving howling of the dragon from the outside could still be heard echoing through the elongated tunnel.  As Ischarus fell to a single knee, he tried to brace Semeion so that if he was alive he would not feel much of the pain.  Semeion neither stirred in movement nor exhaled as Ischarus slipped to his crouching position.

As Ischarus fell, Charis slowly approached on foot with the two horses in tow.  In her draconic tongue she asked Ischarus, “Am I alive because he was willing to die for me?”

Ischarus gently slid Semeion off of his back and onto the ground.  Much of the back of his clothing had been seared and left with black charred streaks across it.  His skin was darkened under the heat of the flame.  As Ischarus laid him upon the ground he noted that Semeion once more did not stir from the movement.  He answered the Provenience.  “Yes, you are alive because he was willing to die.  But I refuse to believe that he died so that you could live.  There has to be something that we can do.”

Charis approached with confidence and spread out her palm over Semeion’s face.  Her thumb and pinkie finger each pressed into Semeion’s skin on either side of his parched mouth.  His skin felt like dry and rough leaves to her fingers.  Her index finger and ring finger stretched just above the outside corner of each of Semeion’s eyes.  She reached for the beginning of his hairline as she stretched her middle finger.  As she did, the palm of her hand came down to rest lightly upon the tip of his nose.  Her eyes closed and she naturally attuned herself to her senses in order to block out the sensation of death that her eyes told her had to be there.  

After only a few seconds she smiled and spoke softly.  “He is alive, but barely.  And his life is slipping by fast.  His breath is very shallow and still slightly damp.  The dragon fire scarred him and the ride must have knocked him unconscious, but he is still alive.  If only I can …”

She began to hum and intone naturally.  Ischarus raised his eyes to meet the face of the draconic healer but she had already voluntarily lost her focus in deep prayer.  Finding little else to do, he brought his other knee down to the ground and brought his shoulders into a humble stance of prayer.  Quickly he found himself lost between the draconic curses uttered by the red dragon from the end of the tunnel and the sweet intonation of Charis’ prayer.  The irony of how the same draconic language could be used to utter both hellish curses and sweet words of healing was not lost upon him.

As Charis hummed her thoughts began to take form.  “I call upon the power of the one who has come to me in my dreams - the one who has taught me to heal my people and to keep them from death.  I ask that my power be increased to heal those beyond my people – so that this one who would give his life for me might be saved.  Protect him and bond with him, oh great healer, that the wounds taken for my sake would be soon forgotten.”

By the final phrase of Charis’ intoned prayer Ischarus found that he had completely forgotten about the mad ravings of the evil red father dragon.  He knew that as she prayed, she prayed to the same healing power that his own silver father dragon had taught them to love.  Charis finished praying and brought her words down to a simple hum and Ischarus began to shiver.  A loud wind bellowed up from the depths of the cave and blew past the pair of kneeling Drakontos.  

In a sudden shot of movement, Semeion gasped once for a breath of life at the same time that the raving red dragon let out a simple yelp of pain.  Semeion opened his eyes for a moment and then quickly closed them.  His breathing became more pronounced and his chest began to substantially rise and fall.  The charred areas of his clothing remained, but much of his skin looked merely tanned in an unusual pattern as opposed to burned.

Charis extended her hand over his face in the exact manner as before and smiled.  Her face turned to look at Ischarus and she spoke softly to interrupt his prayer.  “He will sleep now, a sleep in the rest of the hidden healer.  Many times my healing power has been granted and many times it occurs without demonstration.  When there is a demonstration often the demonstration varies and is dependant upon the circumstances of the request.  But that is my gift.  That is why I was so important to my people.  The magical ability to heal is rare among my people, rare enough for the villagers to risk losing me so that I might breed with my dragon father.”

Ischarus lifted his eyes to Charis and began to speak in the draconic tongue.  As he spoke, he noticed that the ravings of the great red wyrm had ceased around the tunnel entrance.  “Anyone who is capable of doing that is fine in my book.  You continue to walk in the way of your hidden healer and you are welcome with me.  With your people fleeing to safety, your gifts are no longer needed back there.”

Charis smiled, but then looked down to meet the soft healing expression of Semeion.  “He’ll likely need rest, and my dragon father has a fierce anger.  There will be those who suffer on account of your efforts.”

Ischarus nodded.  “Indeed there will.  If your father dragon crosses the mountains to the north he will find that the good dragons will resist him.  If need be, my father dragon will come from Barghost and fight.  The evil that is in Quehalost must not be allowed to spread.  It must be fought until the land is cleansed.  Even then we must remain vigilant.”

Charis smiled grimly as she looked upon Semeion and listened to Ischarus’ grand proclamation.  “You have not seen the evils my father dragon has fought off to protect his territory.  What you seek is noble.  What you do not know about the land can kill you.”

After chastising Ischarus’ words Charis returned her gaze to Semeion and continued speaking.  “My father dragon almost killed this one because of the threat you bring.  Today he is lucky my father dragon could not pursue.  Other evils exist that are more capable of pursuit.  Your goal is noble indeed.”

Ischarus gathered himself and stood, loosening his blade in the process.  “Our goal is noble, and it would seem you have gifts and information to offer us.  We shall see …”

Ischarus stopped speaking as he heard the sound of approaching horse hooves from deeper within the tunnel.


[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Chapter Four: FINDING THE WAY

Ischarus stumbled a few dozen steps forward before the weight of his companion aided the heat in overcoming his strength. He was far enough into the tunnel to no longer be able to see the tunnel entrance, although the raving howling of the dragon from the outside could still be heard echoing through the elongated tunnel. As Ischarus fell to a single knee, he tried to brace Semeion so that if he was alive he would not feel much of the pain. Semeion neither stirred in movement nor exhaled as Ischarus slipped to his crouching position.

As Ischarus fell, Charis slowly approached on foot with the two horses in tow. In her draconic tongue she asked Ischarus, “Am I alive because he was willing to die for me?”

Ischarus gently slid Semeion off of his back and onto the ground. Much of the back of his clothing had been seared and left with black charred streaks across it. His skin was darkened under the heat of the flame. As Ischarus laid him upon the ground he noted that Semeion once more did not stir from the movement. He answered the Provenience. “Yes, you are alive because he was willing to die. But I refuse to believe that he died so that you could live. There has to be something that we can do.”

Charis approached with confidence and spread out her palm over Semeion’s face. Her thumb and pinkie finger each pressed into Semeion’s skin on either side of his parched mouth. His skin felt like dry and rough leaves to her fingers. Her index finger and ring finger stretched just above the outside corner of each of Semeion’s eyes. She reached for the beginning of his hairline as she stretched her middle finger. As she did, the palm of her hand came down to rest lightly upon the tip of his nose. Her eyes closed and she naturally attuned herself to her senses in order to block out the sensation of death that her eyes told her had to be there. 

After only a few seconds she smiled and spoke softly. “He is alive, but barely. And his life is slipping by fast. His breath is very shallow and still slightly damp. The dragon fire scarred him and the ride must have knocked him unconscious, but he is still alive. If only I can …”

She began to hum and intone naturally. Ischarus raised his eyes to meet the face of the draconic healer but she had already voluntarily lost her focus in deep prayer. Finding little else to do, he brought his other knee down to the ground and brought his shoulders into a humble stance of prayer. Quickly he found himself lost between the draconic curses uttered by the red dragon from the end of the tunnel and the sweet intonation of Charis’ prayer. The irony of how the same draconic language could be used to utter both hellish curses and sweet words of healing was not lost upon him.

As Charis hummed her thoughts began to take form. “I call upon the power of the one who has come to me in my dreams - the one who has taught me to heal my people and to keep them from death. I ask that my power be increased to heal those beyond my people – so that this one who would give his life for me might be saved. Protect him and bond with him, oh great healer, that the wounds taken for my sake would be soon forgotten.”

By the final phrase of Charis’ intoned prayer Ischarus found that he had completely forgotten about the mad ravings of the evil red father dragon. He knew that as she prayed, she prayed to the same healing power that his own silver father dragon had taught them to love. Charis finished praying and brought her words down to a simple hum and Ischarus began to shiver. A loud wind bellowed up from the depths of the cave and blew past the pair of kneeling Drakontos. 

In a sudden shot of movement, Semeion gasped once for a breath of life at the same time that the raving red dragon let out a simple yelp of pain. Semeion opened his eyes for a moment and then quickly closed them. His breathing became more pronounced and his chest began to substantially rise and fall. The charred areas of his clothing remained, but much of his skin looked merely tanned in an unusual pattern as opposed to burned.

Charis extended her hand over his face in the exact manner as before and smiled. Her face turned to look at Ischarus and she spoke softly to interrupt his prayer. “He will sleep now, a sleep in the rest of the hidden healer. Many times my healing power has been granted and many times it occurs without demonstration. When there is a demonstration often the demonstration varies and is dependant upon the circumstances of the request. But that is my gift. That is why I was so important to my people. The magical ability to heal is rare among my people, rare enough for the villagers to risk losing me so that I might breed with my dragon father.”

Ischarus lifted his eyes to Charis and began to speak in the draconic tongue. As he spoke, he noticed that the ravings of the great red wyrm had ceased around the tunnel entrance. “Anyone who is capable of doing that is fine in my book. You continue to walk in the way of your hidden healer and you are welcome with me. With your people fleeing to safety, your gifts are no longer needed back there.”

Charis smiled, but then looked down to meet the soft healing expression of Semeion. “He’ll likely need rest, and my dragon father has a fierce anger. There will be those who suffer on account of your efforts.”

Ischarus nodded. “Indeed there will. If your father dragon crosses the mountains to the north he will find that the good dragons will resist him. If need be, my father dragon will come from Barghost and fight. The evil that is in Quehalost must not be allowed to spread. It must be fought until the land is cleansed. Even then we must remain vigilant.”

Charis smiled grimly as she looked upon Semeion and listened to Ischarus’ grand proclamation. “You have not seen the evils my father dragon has fought off to protect his territory. What you seek is noble. What you do not know about the land can kill you.”

After chastising Ischarus’ words Charis returned her gaze to Semeion and continued speaking. “My father dragon almost killed this one because of the threat you bring. Today he is lucky my father dragon could not pursue. Other evils exist that are more capable of pursuit. Your goal is noble indeed.”

Ischarus gathered himself and stood, loosening his blade in the process. “Our goal is noble, and it would seem you have gifts and information to offer us. We shall see …”

Ischarus stopped speaking as he heard the sound of approaching horse hooves from deeper within the tunnel.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jun 27, 2006)

As the horse hooves approached, Ischarus relaxed the grip on his handle.

“We shall see indeed.” Charis looked with a bit of a glower toward Ischarus.  Tired of this line of conversation, she stared down at Semeion.  Here was a man she could look to for guidance in this new world.  She had never been far from her dragon father’s cave – certainly never out of his territory and ability to protect her.  Now she was on her own and would need guidance.  This man that she looked down upon had saved her and nearly lost his life because of it.  Deep inside, she found herself endearing her soul to a man she didn’t really even know.

Ischarus quickly discerned that the horse hooves were coming in pairs, and it sounded like a pair of horses being led slowly back towards them.  He assumed that it was Rhema as he called out, “Were you able to recover all of our assets?”

The reply came quickly from Rhema, “Indeed, everything seems to be present and accounted for, although Semeion will no doubt want to go through his own stuff to make sure.  Thana didn’t actually run too far.  The light runs out pretty quickly down here and it doesn’t take long for the fear of the unknown dark ahead to overcome the fear of the known enemy behind in the light.  When I found her, she was stressed out and backed against a wall in a turn in the tunnel.  I think she was debating which option was the safer direction.  When she heard me coming and no doubt smelled Shauvry, she came right to me and followed easily.”

Ischarus chuckled.  “Poor girl.  Didn’t know what was coming once she got away from Semeion.”

Rhema slipped off of Shauvry’s back and approached Charis, the newest member of the party, watching every movement with intensity of focus.  Rhema stopped just short of her position and looked sorrowfully upon Semeion.  “How bad is he?” she asked to nobody in particular, more fearful of the response than anything else.

Charis shifted an uneasy glance over to Ischarus, who translated for her into her draconic tongue.  Immediately after speaking to Charis, Ischarus replied to Rhema, “She doesn’t speak our language, Rhema.  So far the only language that I know that she knows is her draconic spoken to her by her dragon father.  Given her lifestyle, I wouldn’t be surprised if that is the only language that she ever needed.  Her dragon father would have taken care of most other needs.  Knowing what I know of evil Drakontai, well let’s just say most never go too far from home.”

Charis waited patiently for Ischarus to finish speaking to Rhema before she answered Rhema’s question in the draconic tongue.  “He will live.  He will need at least the night’s rest before he can move far on his own.  Even with my healing powers it will be a few days before his body has fully recovered.  If my god blesses him and my abilities he will at least be able to ride tomorrow.”

Ischarus translated, adding a bit more optimism into his tone than Charis had in hers.  Rhema seemed well aware of the fact that Ischarus had not quite translated the tone correctly as she replied with a word of caution on her own.  “We’re not safe this close to the entrance.  If the great red dragon father knows we are still here he will no doubt find what minions remain loyal to him and send them after us.”

Again Ischarus translated the speech to Charis before having to translate Charis’ reply back to Rhema.  As he spent most of his energy translating between the two languages he quite distinctly began to feel like a subservient scribe working for a greater master in either Rhema or Charis.  His heart belonged to Rhema, but he could definitely feel himself being pulled into Charis’ force of personality.

The rescued Drakontos continued, “This man has saved my life for no apparent reason.  He was part of the plan that you all began in freeing my people from the evil that my father dragon presented to you.  Although I have yet to understand the consequences of that action as well as to know exactly how many were saved and brought into what you call a better life, I am still grateful for that sacrifice.  After all that this man has given for my sake, I cannot risk moving him until he is better.  To move him would endanger his already fragile life.  That is not acceptable for me.”

Charis’ empathy for Semeion didn’t need translated; Rhema could see it on her face.  Nevertheless, Ischarus translated the speech so Rhema could know the words.  Rhema thought about arguing once more but knew that it would do no good.  Apparently Rhema’s displeasure with staying put didn’t need translated either as Charis studied Rhema’s expression.

Charis added, “You two may leave for the night and come back in the morning when he has rested.  You may flee to safety.  I will give my life for his protection.”

Ischarus smiled at the draconic expression.  He found it highly ironic that he was unable to do with words and presence what Semeion accomplished in his unconscious state.  Ischarus had sensed her gifts and knew that her talents had been highly refined simply on the basis of her being the Provenience.  Even after such a short demonstration, once he had seen her talents in action he knew she would make a wonderful final addition to his squad.  Yet he had only found agitation when he spoke to Charis before Rhema arrived.  Semeion was apparently going to be the key to unlocking Charis’ gifts.

As he thought, Ischarus forgot that he had not translated Charis’ speech for Rhema.  “That will not be necessary,”  Thelack of translation earned him a look of expectation from Rhema.  “We are capable of humbling ourselves to you as well.  If you are so adamant about not moving Semeion then we shall stay here and protect him with you.”

Ischarus’ tone became quite serious as he spoke, refusing to hide the fact that he did not like the current location as their resting spot.  Rhema picked up on his tone even through the foreign language and looked once more in Ischarus’ direction.  

This time Ischarus replied to her look.  “We stay here tonight.”  It was all the explanation he would offer to Rhema at this time.

Rhema could tell by the way that Ischarus stated his expression that there was more in his mind.  She also knew that he would not say any of it at this moment.  Perhaps Ischarus would talk once Charis rested for the night.

Ischarus stowed his sword completely and turned to look in both directions of the tunnel.  He spoke in the common tongue so that Rhema would understand.  “Our greatest threat is from the forces of the dragon.  I’ll keep watch in that direction.  You’ll have to take the direction deeper into the cave for the night.  I’m going to suggest to our new friend that she remain by Semeion’s side and tend him.  I think it’ll be alright, she seems to have developed a fondness for Semeion.  Plus, she’ll know better than the rest of us when he is able to be moved.  I figure that for the most part we’ll be here until he awakens.”

Rhema nodded and began to walk a few paces past the horses and down into the tunnel.  Ischarus turned to Charis with one last set of instructions before he took up his watch.  “We must trust each other this night.  My friend will watch one direction and I will watch the direction towards the surface.  I ask that you stay beside Semeion’s side and let me know the moment he awakens and is fit for travel.  You must tend him throughout the night.  We will trust you with his care; you must trust us for your safety.”

Charis looked up to Ischarus and nodded, making eye contact only briefly.  “That I can manage.  Your trust in me is not wasted.”

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
As the horse hooves approached, Ischarus relaxed the grip on his handle.

“We shall see indeed.” Charis looked with a bit of a glower toward Ischarus. Tired of this line of conversation, she stared down at Semeion. Here was a man she could look to for guidance in this new world. She had never been far from her dragon father’s cave – certainly never out of his territory and ability to protect her. Now she was on her own and would need guidance. This man that she looked down upon had saved her and nearly lost his life because of it. Deep inside, she found herself endearing her soul to a man she didn’t really even know.

Ischarus quickly discerned that the horse hooves were coming in pairs, and it sounded like a pair of horses being led slowly back towards them. He assumed that it was Rhema as he called out, “Were you able to recover all of our assets?”

The reply came quickly from Rhema, “Indeed, everything seems to be present and accounted for, although Semeion will no doubt want to go through his own stuff to make sure. Thana didn’t actually run too far. The light runs out pretty quickly down here and it doesn’t take long for the fear of the unknown dark ahead to overcome the fear of the known enemy behind in the light. When I found her, she was stressed out and backed against a wall in a turn in the tunnel. I think she was debating which option was the safer direction. When she heard me coming and no doubt smelled Shauvry, she came right to me and followed easily.”

Ischarus chuckled. “Poor girl. Didn’t know what was coming once she got away from Semeion.”

Rhema slipped off of Shauvry’s back and approached Charis, the newest member of the party, watching every movement with intensity of focus. Rhema stopped just short of her position and looked sorrowfully upon Semeion. “How bad is he?” she asked to nobody in particular, more fearful of the response than anything else.

Charis shifted an uneasy glance over to Ischarus, who translated for her into her draconic tongue. Immediately after speaking to Charis, Ischarus replied to Rhema, “She doesn’t speak our language, Rhema. So far the only language that I know that she knows is her draconic spoken to her by her dragon father. Given her lifestyle, I wouldn’t be surprised if that is the only language that she ever needed. Her dragon father would have taken care of most other needs. Knowing what I know of evil Drakontai, well let’s just say most never go too far from home.”

Charis waited patiently for Ischarus to finish speaking to Rhema before she answered Rhema’s question in the draconic tongue. “He will live. He will need at least the night’s rest before he can move far on his own. Even with my healing powers it will be a few days before his body has fully recovered. If my god blesses him and my abilities he will at least be able to ride tomorrow.”

Ischarus translated, adding a bit more optimism into his tone than Charis had in hers. Rhema seemed well aware of the fact that Ischarus had not quite translated the tone correctly as she replied with a word of caution on her own. “We’re not safe this close to the entrance. If the great red dragon father knows we are still here he will no doubt find what minions remain loyal to him and send them after us.”

Again Ischarus translated the speech to Charis before having to translate Charis’ reply back to Rhema. As he spent most of his energy translating between the two languages he quite distinctly began to feel like a subservient scribe working for a greater master in either Rhema or Charis. His heart belonged to Rhema, but he could definitely feel himself being pulled into Charis’ force of personality.

The rescued Drakontos continued, “This man has saved my life for no apparent reason. He was part of the plan that you all began in freeing my people from the evil that my father dragon presented to you. Although I have yet to understand the consequences of that action as well as to know exactly how many were saved and brought into what you call a better life, I am still grateful for that sacrifice. After all that this man has given for my sake, I cannot risk moving him until he is better. To move him would endanger his already fragile life. That is not acceptable for me.”

Charis’ empathy for Semeion didn’t need translated; Rhema could see it on her face. Nevertheless, Ischarus translated the speech so Rhema could know the words. Rhema thought about arguing once more but knew that it would do no good. Apparently Rhema’s displeasure with staying put didn’t need translated either as Charis studied Rhema’s expression.

Charis added, “You two may leave for the night and come back in the morning when he has rested. You may flee to safety. I will give my life for his protection.”

Ischarus smiled at the draconic expression. He found it highly ironic that he was unable to do with words and presence what Semeion accomplished in his unconscious state. Ischarus had sensed her gifts and knew that her talents had been highly refined simply on the basis of her being the Provenience. Even after such a short demonstration, once he had seen her talents in action he knew she would make a wonderful final addition to his squad. Yet he had only found agitation when he spoke to Charis before Rhema arrived. Semeion was apparently going to be the key to unlocking Charis’ gifts.

As he thought, Ischarus forgot that he had not translated Charis’ speech for Rhema. “That will not be necessary,” Thelack of translation earned him a look of expectation from Rhema. “We are capable of humbling ourselves to you as well. If you are so adamant about not moving Semeion then we shall stay here and protect him with you.”

Ischarus’ tone became quite serious as he spoke, refusing to hide the fact that he did not like the current location as their resting spot. Rhema picked up on his tone even through the foreign language and looked once more in Ischarus’ direction. 

This time Ischarus replied to her look. “We stay here tonight.” It was all the explanation he would offer to Rhema at this time.

Rhema could tell by the way that Ischarus stated his expression that there was more in his mind. She also knew that he would not say any of it at this moment. Perhaps Ischarus would talk once Charis rested for the night.

Ischarus stowed his sword completely and turned to look in both directions of the tunnel. He spoke in the common tongue so that Rhema would understand. “Our greatest threat is from the forces of the dragon. I’ll keep watch in that direction. You’ll have to take the direction deeper into the cave for the night. I’m going to suggest to our new friend that she remain by Semeion’s side and tend him. I think it’ll be alright, she seems to have developed a fondness for Semeion. Plus, she’ll know better than the rest of us when he is able to be moved. I figure that for the most part we’ll be here until he awakens.”

Rhema nodded and began to walk a few paces past the horses and down into the tunnel. Ischarus turned to Charis with one last set of instructions before he took up his watch. “We must trust each other this night. My friend will watch one direction and I will watch the direction towards the surface. I ask that you stay beside Semeion’s side and let me know the moment he awakens and is fit for travel. You must tend him throughout the night. We will trust you with his care; you must trust us for your safety.”

Charis looked up to Ischarus and nodded, making eye contact only briefly. “That I can manage. Your trust in me is not wasted.”
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jun 29, 2006)

Ischarus sat alone on his end of the tunnel.  He had been sitting in silence for nearly an hour while listening for any word from either Charis or Rhema.  Just when he began to relax he heard a subtle song begin in the draconic tongue.

“Come to me, my child.” The song began.  It was obvious from the words and the voice that the singer was Charis’ father dragon.  Ischarus quickly tuned his ears to listen for any sign of movement from Charis’ position.  They had come so far is rescuing her and she herself had come a long ways toward breaking free from the evil draconic influence that bound her past life that Ischarus vowed internally to not let her get by him without a fight.

“The time has come to do my bidding.
The time has come to win my favor.
Come to me, my child, the time has come.”

“Come to me, my child.
You are the one that I have chosen.
The task at hand is within your grasp.
Come to me, my child, the time has come.”

At the understanding of the words, Ischarus slowly crept back to where Charis kept a silent watch over Semeion.  Charis lifted her eyes up off of the wounded mage and looked toward Ischarus as he approached.  Once he had gotten within a few paces he spoke to Charis.  “Is that song meant for you?” Ischarus asked with a wrinkle of questioning in his eyebrows.  His sight told him that Charis was rather unaffected by the dragon’s song.

Charis shook her head slowly from side to side.  “Not for me.  If it was, then any magic within it was poorly sung.  I haven’t felt the least bit moved by the song in any way.”

Ischarus frowned as Charis spoke.  “I’d expect you to notice the subtle magic contained within the songs of your father dragon.  If you didn’t notice any, then there must be something else going on.  I don’t like this position.  We are truly bottlenecked here.”

Charis answered with a bit of venom in her words.  “Your friend could not have been moved.  We are here because his life needed to be saved.”

Ischarus knew instantly that she had misinterpreted his meaning.  “No, that is not what I mean at all.  We are here now and your reasons are legitimate.  But the fact remains that luck has trapped us in a precarious position.  Not only that, but we know that something is going to happen and we have no clue as to what.”

Charis eased as Ischarus reinterpreted his meaning for her.  “My father dragon is driven by greed above all else.  His sphere of influence is wider than I can possibly imagine and he will do nearly anything in his capability to get something his heart truly desires.  To guess what he has planned is simply next to the impossible.”

Ischarus stood and prepared to go back to his position, convinced that Charis was not under the dragon’s spell.  “Whatever happens, keep a good watch over Semeion.  In his condition it would not take too much to push him over the edge of life and into death.”

Charis smiled, for the first time seemingly able to look past Ischarus’ dominance and filled with the ability to ignore the clash of leadership she found so easy between them.  “That would make our sacrifice here pointless.  Nothing of harm shall come to him.”

The dragon song repeated itself two more times and then died down.  However, from his position in the tunnel Ischarus could hear that the dragon had not left.  The wyrm had merely stopped singing.  Its great inhalations caused every nook in the tunnel to echo and make it sound as though even the cave itself was sighing at the tension that was mounting within Ischarus to not doubt his associates.

Rhema was unaware that Ischarus had descended the short bit of the passageway to approach Charis.  When she heard the dragon song, she immediately recognized it as charm magic, but felt herself pass through the compulsion unaffected.  As she focused on the song, she could feel the current of magic welling past her as though she stood in the path of a rushing stream that originated from the dragon’s mouth and ran deeper into the cave.  With every note she steeled herself until the song became silent.  As the cavern heaved with each draconic breath once the song was over, she felt herself relax.

Suddenly, the dragon’s breathing sound was gone.  Quickly she noticed that the dragon’s breathing was not the only change.  Every noise had vanished, including the noise that her feet should have made as she rose from her crouched position.  As she turned to look down the passageway she found that she stared into the eyes of a coming opponent.  The beast had yellow eyes which contained the simple lizard-like slit for a pupil.  The opponent was only a few feet tall and covered in scaly skin that was not unlike that of dragons.  The short creature approached cautiously.  Charis could tell by its body language that it had just cast a spell and appeared to prepare to cast another.

Charis attempted a quick warning to Ischarus, but her voice produced no sound at all.  Though she tried to yell with all her might she could do nothing to warn those further up the tunnel.  Giving up quickly on warning her friends and choosing to stand her ground, Rhema silently focused her thoughts into an offensive affront.  She lifted the hilt of her dagger up to her right temple and focused on the creature’s yellow eyes.

The reptilian creature let out a small yelp of pain as the power of Rhema’s mind affected him.  He had been caught off guard, assuming that his first spell would immobilize her ability to harm him through non-physical means.  As his mind recovered from the pain, he brought to his fingers a bright blue ball of energy.  The energy crackled from finger tip to fingertip as he lined up his shot and flung it towards Rhema.  Although she ducked and jumped to avoid the strike, the energy ball turned mid-flight and struck Rhema in the back.  As quickly as he had released the first jolt of energy another one formed and he flung it towards Rhema.  This blast found its target as well.  As the second energy ball struck her Rhema collapsed to the ground and made no further effort to rise.

Further up the tunnel, Charis noticed that as the energy ball sliced through the air and impacted against Rhema it illuminated her figure.  Although she had been unable to hear any sound of the battle due to the reptilian creature’s spell, Charis was able to see the effects of the battle as it raged further down into the tunnel.  Charis called for Ischarus as she saw Rhema strike the ground hard.  “Ischarus, your friend is under attack and looks overpowered at the other end of the tunnel!”

Ischarus leapt to his feet and abandoned his end of the passageway.  “Stay where you are and protect Semeion.  You’ll have to watch this side of the tunnel now.”

The sound of drawing steel from a scabbard could be heard as Ischarus charged past Charis.  He wasn’t sure where the threat had come from.  He wasn’t even sure where Rhema lay upon the ground.  As he charged down the tunnel, he saw a spark of blue energy light up.  Before he could react the energy leapt into motion and slammed into Ischarus’ chest as he ran.  Another blue energy ball shot forth and struck him from the same source.  While the damage was hard to accept the blue light was enough to clue him in onto where the enemy was located.  His torso had been significantly wounded, but he still drew the blade of his sword back in a mighty swing.  Ischarus lashed out with a hefty swing as he closed in on the reptilian aggressor.  The blade of the sword sliced through the air more precisely than he had imagined.  

The short reptilian figure realized that its arcane spells had not been enough to take down the charging opponent.  It knew that the miscalculation would cost dearly.  The creature managed to do the only thing that in could as self-defense.  It raised its hands and braced for the impact.  

Ischarus’ blade struck the smaller creature’s hands with great force and severed the creature’s right hand cleanly.  The creature shrieked in pain at the blow.  It cursed Ischarus profusely and fell to the floor.  Above the shriek of the wounded arcane caster came another yell.  This yell was followed by another, then a third, and even a fourth.  

Ischarus lowered his blade to waist height as four more of these short reptilian aggressors approached.  Ischarus could tell that these four were not spell casters by the spears and daggers that they held in each hand.  Although they didn’t wield magic, these weapons were no less dangerous.  The reptilian creatures snarled fiercely as Ischarus held them at bay with a sweeping wide arc of his sword tip.  On one such swing, Ischarus felt a presence coming towards him from behind.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Ischarus sat alone on his end of the tunnel. He had been sitting in silence for nearly an hour while listening for any word from either Charis or Rhema. Just when he began to relax he heard a subtle song begin in the draconic tongue.

“Come to me, my child.” The song began. It was obvious from the words and the voice that the singer was Charis’ father dragon. Ischarus quickly tuned his ears to listen for any sign of movement from Charis’ position. They had come so far is rescuing her and she herself had come a long ways toward breaking free from the evil draconic influence that bound her past life that Ischarus vowed internally to not let her get by him without a fight.

“The time has come to do my bidding.
The time has come to win my favor.
Come to me, my child, the time has come.”

“Come to me, my child.
You are the one that I have chosen.
The task at hand is within your grasp.
Come to me, my child, the time has come.”

At the understanding of the words, Ischarus slowly crept back to where Charis kept a silent watch over Semeion. Charis lifted her eyes up off of the wounded mage and looked toward Ischarus as he approached. Once he had gotten within a few paces he spoke to Charis. “Is that song meant for you?” Ischarus asked with a wrinkle of questioning in his eyebrows. His sight told him that Charis was rather unaffected by the dragon’s song.

Charis shook her head slowly from side to side. “Not for me. If it was, then any magic within it was poorly sung. I haven’t felt the least bit moved by the song in any way.”

Ischarus frowned as Charis spoke. “I’d expect you to notice the subtle magic contained within the songs of your father dragon. If you didn’t notice any, then there must be something else going on. I don’t like this position. We are truly bottlenecked here.”

Charis answered with a bit of venom in her words. “Your friend could not have been moved. We are here because his life needed to be saved.”

Ischarus knew instantly that she had misinterpreted his meaning. “No, that is not what I mean at all. We are here now and your reasons are legitimate. But the fact remains that luck has trapped us in a precarious position. Not only that, but we know that something is going to happen and we have no clue as to what.”

Charis eased as Ischarus reinterpreted his meaning for her. “My father dragon is driven by greed above all else. His sphere of influence is wider than I can possibly imagine and he will do nearly anything in his capability to get something his heart truly desires. To guess what he has planned is simply next to the impossible.”

Ischarus stood and prepared to go back to his position, convinced that Charis was not under the dragon’s spell. “Whatever happens, keep a good watch over Semeion. In his condition it would not take too much to push him over the edge of life and into death.”

Charis smiled, for the first time seemingly able to look past Ischarus’ dominance and filled with the ability to ignore the clash of leadership she found so easy between them. “That would make our sacrifice here pointless. Nothing of harm shall come to him.”

The dragon song repeated itself two more times and then died down. However, from his position in the tunnel Ischarus could hear that the dragon had not left. The wyrm had merely stopped singing. Its great inhalations caused every nook in the tunnel to echo and make it sound as though even the cave itself was sighing at the tension that was mounting within Ischarus to not doubt his associates.

Rhema was unaware that Ischarus had descended the short bit of the passageway to approach Charis. When she heard the dragon song, she immediately recognized it as charm magic, but felt herself pass through the compulsion unaffected. As she focused on the song, she could feel the current of magic welling past her as though she stood in the path of a rushing stream that originated from the dragon’s mouth and ran deeper into the cave. With every note she steeled herself until the song became silent. As the cavern heaved with each draconic breath once the song was over, she felt herself relax.

Suddenly, the dragon’s breathing sound was gone. Quickly she noticed that the dragon’s breathing was not the only change. Every noise had vanished, including the noise that her feet should have made as she rose from her crouched position. As she turned to look down the passageway she found that she stared into the eyes of a coming opponent. The beast had yellow eyes which contained the simple lizard-like slit for a pupil. The opponent was only a few feet tall and covered in scaly skin that was not unlike that of dragons. The short creature approached cautiously. Charis could tell by its body language that it had just cast a spell and appeared to prepare to cast another.

Charis attempted a quick warning to Ischarus, but her voice produced no sound at all. Though she tried to yell with all her might she could do nothing to warn those further up the tunnel. Giving up quickly on warning her friends and choosing to stand her ground, Rhema silently focused her thoughts into an offensive affront. She lifted the hilt of her dagger up to her right temple and focused on the creature’s yellow eyes.

The reptilian creature let out a small yelp of pain as the power of Rhema’s mind affected him. He had been caught off guard, assuming that his first spell would immobilize her ability to harm him through non-physical means. As his mind recovered from the pain, he brought to his fingers a bright blue ball of energy. The energy crackled from finger tip to fingertip as he lined up his shot and flung it towards Rhema. Although she ducked and jumped to avoid the strike, the energy ball turned mid-flight and struck Rhema in the back. As quickly as he had released the first jolt of energy another one formed and he flung it towards Rhema. This blast found its target as well. As the second energy ball struck her Rhema collapsed to the ground and made no further effort to rise.

Further up the tunnel, Charis noticed that as the energy ball sliced through the air and impacted against Rhema it illuminated her figure. Although she had been unable to hear any sound of the battle due to the reptilian creature’s spell, Charis was able to see the effects of the battle as it raged further down into the tunnel. Charis called for Ischarus as she saw Rhema strike the ground hard. “Ischarus, your friend is under attack and looks overpowered at the other end of the tunnel!”

Ischarus leapt to his feet and abandoned his end of the passageway. “Stay where you are and protect Semeion. You’ll have to watch this side of the tunnel now.”

The sound of drawing steel from a scabbard could be heard as Ischarus charged past Charis. He wasn’t sure where the threat had come from. He wasn’t even sure where Rhema lay upon the ground. As he charged down the tunnel, he saw a spark of blue energy light up. Before he could react the energy leapt into motion and slammed into Ischarus’ chest as he ran. Another blue energy ball shot forth and struck him from the same source. While the damage was hard to accept the blue light was enough to clue him in onto where the enemy was located. His torso had been significantly wounded, but he still drew the blade of his sword back in a mighty swing. Ischarus lashed out with a hefty swing as he closed in on the reptilian aggressor. The blade of the sword sliced through the air more precisely than he had imagined. 

The short reptilian figure realized that its arcane spells had not been enough to take down the charging opponent. It knew that the miscalculation would cost dearly. The creature managed to do the only thing that in could as self-defense. It raised its hands and braced for the impact. 

Ischarus’ blade struck the smaller creature’s hands with great force and severed the creature’s right hand cleanly. The creature shrieked in pain at the blow. It cursed Ischarus profusely and fell to the floor. Above the shriek of the wounded arcane caster came another yell. This yell was followed by another, then a third, and even a fourth. 

Ischarus lowered his blade to waist height as four more of these short reptilian aggressors approached. Ischarus could tell that these four were not spell casters by the spears and daggers that they held in each hand. Although they didn’t wield magic, these weapons were no less dangerous. The reptilian creatures snarled fiercely as Ischarus held them at bay with a sweeping wide arc of his sword tip. On one such swing, Ischarus felt a presence coming towards him from behind.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 1, 2006)

Ischarus turned his head slightly to see the presence he felt coming.  It was Charis coming from behind to help him.  She held one of Semeion’s daggers in her hand as though she knew how to use it.

Ischarus sternly chastised Charis in their shared tongue.  “I thought I told you to stay behind and protect Semeion from attacks from the other direction!”

The reptilian’s faces demonstrated that they could obviously hear and understand not only the words but also the anger in Ischarus’ voice.  One of the creatures decided to make an advance upon the pair of opponents.  Ischarus was prepared for the strike and he managed to use his greater reach to land an attack of his own.  The flat side of his sword slashed forward and struck one of the creatures on the side of the head.  The blow knocked the advancing reptilian opponent to the ground.  As he fell, he slid awkwardly into the cavern wall and dropped his spear.  The creature did not move after being struck.

Ischarus was still full of anger as he spoke to the rest of the kobolds in his draconic language.  Now he knew that they had the ability to communicate with him.  “I am in no mood for a trivial fight, dragon-spawn.  If you desire a fight, I plan on giving you one to remember.  Leave now, and I promise that your fallen comrades will be hurt no further.”

Two of the remaining three creatures appeared at first to be swayed by Ischarus’ words.  In spite of this, the one nearest to the fighter snarled his teeth and slashed out towards Ischarus with his spear.  Ischarus easily batted the strike away.

Another creature used his weapon to take a swipe at Charis.  This blow landed solidly and opened a subtle wound on her left arm.  She immediately wished she had more protective armor on as well as some kind of a shield to defend herself with.  Since she had neither, the dagger point would have to do for now.  The pain of the wound flowed through her body but she could manage to continue on.  She flashed the dagger back towards the reptilian creature with another strike of her own.  Unfortunately for Charis, the small creature easily ducked underneath the strike.

The fourth creature slipped in between the other two as they engaged Ischarus and Charis respectively.  It used Charis’ motion to help disguise his own lunge against Ischarus.  The attack nearly succeeded but for a late second twist out of the way on Ischarus’ behalf.  As Ischarus began to think about parrying the attacks one more time and then lunging forward in a counter attack, a bright blue burst of energy leapt past his left thigh and hooked around the creature that had just attacked.  The energy burst was identical to those thrown earlier by the reptilian spell caster with the exception that in this case there was only one energy ball thrown.  The energy bolt hooked around the creature that most recently attacked Ischarus and then immediately blindsided the one that had attacked Charis earlier.

A voice, filled with a hint of anger, sounded out from behind Ischarus.  “I have awakened and no longer need protection, Ischarus.  Do not be angry with Charis.”

Ischarus stopped moving his sword in an erratic defense posture and turned slightly to peek a glance at Charis out of the corner of his eye.  As he did, he saw the rescued Drakontos Provenience trying her hardest to anticipate a defense against the reptilian aggressor opposing her.  He also caught a slight glimpse of personal vindication as a slight smile crossed her lips following Semeion’s speech from behind them.  She offered no haughty retort to Ischarus’ earlier chastisement and he decided now was not the time to press the issue.  He focused on his two opponents.

Ischarus half-heartedly swung at one of the creatures opposing him.  His swing was merely an attempt to keep them honestly interested in himself rather than Charis.  It also served well as a defensive blow to avoid the possibility of the creatures from flanking his position.  Each of the reptilian creatures sliced back at him with their spears, but Ischarus directed the shaft of one away with the flat of his blade and allowed the other spear to connect quite solidly with the front of his shield.

Charis and the reptilian creature opposing her exchanged blows once more, but the defenses of both were up to the task.  Charis recognized the same attack sequence and this time easily dodged a blow designed for the same arm.  The creature used its superior maneuverability to avoid the simple swipe offered in return.  However, the creature could not avoid being struck by another one of Semeion’s energy bolts.  As the magical energy slammed into the creature it scorched a significant portion of its draconic scales and flung its body backwards into the cavern wall.  The creature stumbled back and attempted to regain consciousness.  However, the effort was useless as the creature tripped over the body of the one that Ischarus had previously knocked senseless.  Once this creature solidly hit the ground it was no longer able to maintain the strength to keep conscious.

The final two creatures didn’t quite realize that they were the only ones left out of their original party.  Ischarus swung once more, this time knocking the one that was not between himself and Charis down with a single blow.   Ischarus’ sword crashed down upon the reptilian adversary’s thigh bone and struck with such force that the leg broke under the pressure.  The creature dropped his spear instantly and crumpled to the ground in obvious pain.  With a look of anger, Ischarus turned to the final opponent and breathed heavily.  No words were needed to express his fury.  His right foot made sure to step on the shaft of the spear from the creature that he had previously dealt with in order to avoid it being used as a weapon again.

The final creature was already in too deep to turn back now.  There was little it could do except fight and hope for the best.  Only too late did it recognize that what used to be the upper hand in numbers had now turned into fighting alone.  The final creature swiped half-heartedly at Ischarus, but the shaft of its spear clanked hard off of the edge of Ischarus’ shield.  

Charis stepped around to the back of the creature as it swung at Ischarus.  She made it pay for its desire to come forward against the party.  The blade of the dagger bit hard into the creature’s scaly shoulder and it howled in pain as it dropped its spear and fell to the ground.  Ischarus paused once he realized that Charis had landed the telling blow and held his sword toward the darkness of the deeper tunnel in preparation of more coming.  He secretly hoped that this had been the final gathering.

Semeion doubled over in pain, fighting the urge to pass out.  Charis rushed to his side and quite calmly offered up words of help to the one she had worked so hard at saving.  “Semeion, Semeion, are you all right?  Can I help you?”

Semeion held up a hand as Charis approached.  “I will manage.  The pain from my recently healed skin is only barely manageable.  But you must find Rhema and heal her.”

Ischarus guided Charis to the location of Rhema’s body with a simple outstretched finger extended from underneath his shield.  His sword was still gripped firmly in his other hand and he continued to point it in the direction from which the reptilian creatures had come.  Charis quickly slinked over to where Rhema lay unconscious and found her wounds.  Her first task was to bind her wounds and this was easily enough accomplished.  Rhema’s wounds were not deep enough to need magical healing.  Charis simply treated her and immediately her condition began to improve.

As she worked, Ischarus walked a few steps further down into the tunnel in the direction from which the creatures had come.  “Heal her just enough so that she is capable of riding, Charis.  Then heal the beast whose hand I severed.  He will need to be stabilized before we can leave here.  The rest of them will also need to be made stable.  They need not be fully healed, however.  Although they came against us, we will bandage their wounds and allow them to live.  If they are the servants of the dragon then our quarrel is not with them immediately.  It is not their fault they got in the way.”

Charis objected quickly.  “But they would have killed us gladly!”

Semeion knelt beside her, the pain flowing over his face.  “It is they way we do things, Charis.  We do not aim to kill – only to defeat and move beyond if our opponents are unwilling to concede.  We’ll leave them stable here in the tunnel.  When they awaken they’ll know that they were cared for rather than outright killed.  Of course, they’ll also be weaponless until they return to their clan.”

Charis protested again.  “But…”

Semeion smiled and lay down on his back on the ground beside her.  The pain was excruciating now, and only his strong mental training allowed him to think through the pain of his recently healed skin.  As Charis began to object, Semeion merely smiled.  “It is who we are, Charis.  If we kill and leave them dead, we are no better than they are.  When I joined this group only a few days ago I had difficulty understanding as well.  But seeing your rescue convinced me of the good that we can do.  But the good that we can do is tainted by any evil done by our own hands.  When we kill, we cause people to hate us and justly so.  It cannot be the way of the righteous.  If we heal our enemies, we can certainly teach them that they were defeated.  Yet we can also show them compassion by not only sparing their lives but ensuring that they do not die as well.”

Charis looked down at Rhema and prayed a simple prayer, reviving her from her unconsciousness.  Charis looked to Semeion and said, “Explain this to her.  I apparently have healing to perform.”

As she stood, she found herself face to face with Ischarus.  He had apparently returned from his brief walk down the tunnel.  He said nothing to Charis as their eyes met.  Ischarus’ lips flashed a crooked and unbalanced smile and he patted her shoulder with his leather gloved hand.  He turned so that she could easily pass by him and Charis set about bandaging the wounds of the wounded and ultimately expending what was left of her divine healing power to ensure that the life of the reptilian spell caster was not lost.  

As she rose from her final task, she noted that Ischarus had been standing watch over her actions the whole time.  He had not been watching her, but he had been watching out for her safety.  As she rose to her feet, Semeion and Rhema helped each other to their own feet.  They were a badly beaten group and low on resources.  But now was not the time to stay still any longer.  They were capable of moving on and the need was greater than ever.  It would be a long way home.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Ischarus turned his head slightly to see the presence he felt coming. It was Charis coming from behind to help him. She held one of Semeion’s daggers in her hand as though she knew how to use it.

Ischarus sternly chastised Charis in their shared tongue. “I thought I told you to stay behind and protect Semeion from attacks from the other direction!”

The reptilian’s faces demonstrated that they could obviously hear and understand not only the words but also the anger in Ischarus’ voice. One of the creatures decided to make an advance upon the pair of opponents. Ischarus was prepared for the strike and he managed to use his greater reach to land an attack of his own. The flat side of his sword slashed forward and struck one of the creatures on the side of the head. The blow knocked the advancing reptilian opponent to the ground. As he fell, he slid awkwardly into the cavern wall and dropped his spear. The creature did not move after being struck.

Ischarus was still full of anger as he spoke to the rest of the kobolds in his draconic language. Now he knew that they had the ability to communicate with him. “I am in no mood for a trivial fight, dragon-spawn. If you desire a fight, I plan on giving you one to remember. Leave now, and I promise that your fallen comrades will be hurt no further.”

Two of the remaining three creatures appeared at first to be swayed by Ischarus’ words. In spite of this, the one nearest to the fighter snarled his teeth and slashed out towards Ischarus with his spear. Ischarus easily batted the strike away.

Another creature used his weapon to take a swipe at Charis. This blow landed solidly and opened a subtle wound on her left arm. She immediately wished she had more protective armor on as well as some kind of a shield to defend herself with. Since she had neither, the dagger point would have to do for now. The pain of the wound flowed through her body but she could manage to continue on. She flashed the dagger back towards the reptilian creature with another strike of her own. Unfortunately for Charis, the small creature easily ducked underneath the strike.

The fourth creature slipped in between the other two as they engaged Ischarus and Charis respectively. It used Charis’ motion to help disguise his own lunge against Ischarus. The attack nearly succeeded but for a late second twist out of the way on Ischarus’ behalf. As Ischarus began to think about parrying the attacks one more time and then lunging forward in a counter attack, a bright blue burst of energy leapt past his left thigh and hooked around the creature that had just attacked. The energy burst was identical to those thrown earlier by the reptilian spell caster with the exception that in this case there was only one energy ball thrown. The energy bolt hooked around the creature that most recently attacked Ischarus and then immediately blindsided the one that had attacked Charis earlier.

A voice, filled with a hint of anger, sounded out from behind Ischarus. “I have awakened and no longer need protection, Ischarus. Do not be angry with Charis.”

Ischarus stopped moving his sword in an erratic defense posture and turned slightly to peek a glance at Charis out of the corner of his eye. As he did, he saw the rescued Drakontos Provenience trying her hardest to anticipate a defense against the reptilian aggressor opposing her. He also caught a slight glimpse of personal vindication as a slight smile crossed her lips following Semeion’s speech from behind them. She offered no haughty retort to Ischarus’ earlier chastisement and he decided now was not the time to press the issue. He focused on his two opponents.

Ischarus half-heartedly swung at one of the creatures opposing him. His swing was merely an attempt to keep them honestly interested in himself rather than Charis. It also served well as a defensive blow to avoid the possibility of the creatures from flanking his position. Each of the reptilian creatures sliced back at him with their spears, but Ischarus directed the shaft of one away with the flat of his blade and allowed the other spear to connect quite solidly with the front of his shield.

Charis and the reptilian creature opposing her exchanged blows once more, but the defenses of both were up to the task. Charis recognized the same attack sequence and this time easily dodged a blow designed for the same arm. The creature used its superior maneuverability to avoid the simple swipe offered in return. However, the creature could not avoid being struck by another one of Semeion’s energy bolts. As the magical energy slammed into the creature it scorched a significant portion of its draconic scales and flung its body backwards into the cavern wall. The creature stumbled back and attempted to regain consciousness. However, the effort was useless as the creature tripped over the body of the one that Ischarus had previously knocked senseless. Once this creature solidly hit the ground it was no longer able to maintain the strength to keep conscious.

The final two creatures didn’t quite realize that they were the only ones left out of their original party. Ischarus swung once more, this time knocking the one that was not between himself and Charis down with a single blow. Ischarus’ sword crashed down upon the reptilian adversary’s thigh bone and struck with such force that the leg broke under the pressure. The creature dropped his spear instantly and crumpled to the ground in obvious pain. With a look of anger, Ischarus turned to the final opponent and breathed heavily. No words were needed to express his fury. His right foot made sure to step on the shaft of the spear from the creature that he had previously dealt with in order to avoid it being used as a weapon again.

The final creature was already in too deep to turn back now. There was little it could do except fight and hope for the best. Only too late did it recognize that what used to be the upper hand in numbers had now turned into fighting alone. The final creature swiped half-heartedly at Ischarus, but the shaft of its spear clanked hard off of the edge of Ischarus’ shield. 

Charis stepped around to the back of the creature as it swung at Ischarus. She made it pay for its desire to come forward against the party. The blade of the dagger bit hard into the creature’s scaly shoulder and it howled in pain as it dropped its spear and fell to the ground. Ischarus paused once he realized that Charis had landed the telling blow and held his sword toward the darkness of the deeper tunnel in preparation of more coming. He secretly hoped that this had been the final gathering.

Semeion doubled over in pain, fighting the urge to pass out. Charis rushed to his side and quite calmly offered up words of help to the one she had worked so hard at saving. “Semeion, Semeion, are you all right? Can I help you?”

Semeion held up a hand as Charis approached. “I will manage. The pain from my recently healed skin is only barely manageable. But you must find Rhema and heal her.”

Ischarus guided Charis to the location of Rhema’s body with a simple outstretched finger extended from underneath his shield. His sword was still gripped firmly in his other hand and he continued to point it in the direction from which the reptilian creatures had come. Charis quickly slinked over to where Rhema lay unconscious and found her wounds. Her first task was to bind her wounds and this was easily enough accomplished. Rhema’s wounds were not deep enough to need magical healing. Charis simply treated her and immediately her condition began to improve.

As she worked, Ischarus walked a few steps further down into the tunnel in the direction from which the creatures had come. “Heal her just enough so that she is capable of riding, Charis. Then heal the beast whose hand I severed. He will need to be stabilized before we can leave here. The rest of them will also need to be made stable. They need not be fully healed, however. Although they came against us, we will bandage their wounds and allow them to live. If they are the servants of the dragon then our quarrel is not with them immediately. It is not their fault they got in the way.”

Charis objected quickly. “But they would have killed us gladly!”

Semeion knelt beside her, the pain flowing over his face. “It is they way we do things, Charis. We do not aim to kill – only to defeat and move beyond if our opponents are unwilling to concede. We’ll leave them stable here in the tunnel. When they awaken they’ll know that they were cared for rather than outright killed. Of course, they’ll also be weaponless until they return to their clan.”

Charis protested again. “But…”

Semeion smiled and lay down on his back on the ground beside her. The pain was excruciating now, and only his strong mental training allowed him to think through the pain of his recently healed skin. As Charis began to object, Semeion merely smiled. “It is who we are, Charis. If we kill and leave them dead, we are no better than they are. When I joined this group only a few days ago I had difficulty understanding as well. But seeing your rescue convinced me of the good that we can do. But the good that we can do is tainted by any evil done by our own hands. When we kill, we cause people to hate us and justly so. It cannot be the way of the righteous. If we heal our enemies, we can certainly teach them that they were defeated. Yet we can also show them compassion by not only sparing their lives but ensuring that they do not die as well.”

Charis looked down at Rhema and prayed a simple prayer, reviving her from her unconsciousness. Charis looked to Semeion and said, “Explain this to her. I apparently have healing to perform.”

As she stood, she found herself face to face with Ischarus. He had apparently returned from his brief walk down the tunnel. He said nothing to Charis as their eyes met. Ischarus’ lips flashed a crooked and unbalanced smile and he patted her shoulder with his leather gloved hand. He turned so that she could easily pass by him and Charis set about bandaging the wounds of the wounded and ultimately expending what was left of her divine healing power to ensure that the life of the reptilian spell caster was not lost. 

As she rose from her final task, she noted that Ischarus had been standing watch over her actions the whole time. He had not been watching her, but he had been watching out for her safety. As she rose to her feet, Semeion and Rhema helped each other to their own feet. They were a badly beaten group and low on resources. But now was not the time to stay still any longer. They were capable of moving on and the need was greater than ever. It would be a long way home.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 2, 2006)

*Chapter Five: A LITTLE REVENGE*

Three relatively calm months had passed since the party found themselves facing off against the small reptilian opponents who had been summoned by the calling of the dragon.  Grixanthrosilithiss had not ventured over the mountains into Tongra in an attempt to exact personal revenge upon his runaway Provenience.  In spite of the lack of revenge from the red wyrm, even once they had returned the whole way to Rhema’s father’s home they refused to let their guard down for several weeks.  Rhema’s father lived in the sleepy hamlet of Huetown under Lord Ironblood’s domain, but the relative isolation brought them little comfort.  During each night Semeion, Rhema, Ischarus, or Charis would inevitably find themselves keeping watch over the family estate from the ground floor of Rhema’s father’s two story stone villa.  Many nights Charis found herself dodging shadows that seemed to her to be in the shape of Druff.  The first few weeks passed by slowly as they all awaited retribution.

Rhema was the first to begin to let her guard return to normal.  Of course, normal meant the typical state of heightened awareness that comes from knowingly operating a farm villa using rescued persons from Quehalost as workers.  The majority of the workers were not permanent residents at the villa.  Instead they would stay until such a time as they had grown accustomed to life in Tongra that they could make it on their own.  There was a constant threat that someone from Quehalost, whom the party confronted earlier, could pass through the northern region of Tongra following the trail of the freedom fighters.

Of course, the trail would lead them directly to the northern edge of Tongra where the would-be pursuers would inevitably become attracted by the capitol of Lord Ironblood’s land, Fingerdale.  Lord Ironblood was a ruthless manager of all the resources within and he knew precisely how to tax his residents so that they would be able to survive with only a small margin of profit to show.  Lord Ironblood seemed capable of knowing just how far his serfs could be pushed before they would revolt.  Fortunately for him, Lord Ironblood had never crossed that line.  Of course, Lord Ironblood also kept his people safe with a highly trained and well paid army.  Lord Ironblood’s serfs knew their life was difficult financially, but they were also a safe people.  Most of Lord Ironblood’s serfs resented the taxes of the land but were loyal to the life they had grown accustomed to.

It was this very security that lead Rhema’s father to the land many years ago.  It was this security that kept Rhema’s father precisely in Lord Ironblood’s land in spite of the taxes.  The lord and many of his officers knew full well of the operations that ran out of Rhema’s father’s villa.  Rhema’s father paid a hefty tribute to keep the lips of those officers closed.  Yet everyone at the villa knew that secrets would inevitably leek out if the right person paid enough for the information.  This was the danger of living in a land where money dominated personal relationships.  So long as the rescue operations brought enough wealth back to keep the nobles and Lord Ironblood happy there would be no trouble.  If Rhema and her associates ever worked against a force in Quehalost that had considerable resources there was the risk of trouble.

There was no doubt that Grixanthrosilithiss had such wealth, but being a red dragon it was rather unlikely that he would part with wealth to merely regain a Provenience.  There were other methods that would be much more satisfying to his loyal underlings.  It was precisely that thought that kept Charis awake at night and precisely that thought that she had to overcome in order to regain living a normal life.

Fortunately for Charis, she had two things working in her favor as she strove toward overcoming her fear of retribution from the red wyrm.  First, her new associates had managed to meet up with six of her kin who were also fleeing from Quehalost.  Once her kin recognized Charis they readily followed Ischarus, Rhema, and Semeion into the land of Tongra and eventually to Huetown and the family villa.  The fact that there were then seven who were going through the retraining process made it easier.  

Furthermore, the family villa knew that often the first step in retraining was ensuring that those being retrained spoke the proper language of the land.  Semeion took a keen interest in teaching the language to the refugees; and Rhema’s father was more than ready to hand that task over to Semeion.  With Semeion as the teacher, Rhema demonstrated a quick knack at learning the common tongue of the civilized lands.  By the end of the first two weeks, every refugee had a working vocabulary of useful terms for life on the villa and they were able to construct simple sentences.  By the end of the full three months, each of the refugees had proven relative command over the spoken language – although none of them had progressed at all in their ability to read.  This meant little, however, because the average person in Tongra could do little reading and the refugees were not even able to read in their native draconic tongue!

Once the refugees had a working mastery of the civilized tongue, they were allowed to come and go at their leisure.  Of course, this was assuming that their responsibilities at the villa had been attended and completed.  Part of the retraining program was to teach the refugees that money was necessary for life as well as the fact that the only honest way to make money in the civilized lands was to learn how to balance work with leisure.  In the beginning, the more timid refugees stayed on the villa and worked hard – often stockpiling their wages.  However, eventually even the most timid of the refugees learned that their minor accumulation of wealth drew them out into the small town of Huetown.  Here they began to learn how the civilized world traded, bartered, and bought what they needed.

Huetown was a small town, roughly existing on a working population of 900 residents during most of the year.  This population size was ideal for allowing the refugees to learn about wealth and commerce.  The whole town was accustomed to the occasional wave of refugees from Rhema’s father’s villa and by now had begun to assume responsibility for training these refugees in the ways of Tongra commerce. Of course, nobody in the town truly understood where the refugees can from and most knew enough not to ask.  The shopkeepers knew to be patient, which was usually relatively easy in such a small town.  The innkeeper and tavern owner knew to keep watch over the refugees until they learned the environment of inn and tavern life.  Through it all, it wasn’t too long before each of the refugees had begun to show independence and the ability to function on their own in the civilized realm.

The final step in retraining a refugee was introduction to the life in Fingerdale.  Fingerdale was certainly not the largest of cities in Tongra; but it did have a respectable working population of around 10,000 people.  This central city of Lord Ironblood’s land became the place where the refugees learned about discerning which shops to choose, how to recognize safe areas of cities, and even how to get along with the local city guard.  Of course, street merchants, thieves, wandering minstrels, and the like roamed the streets of Fingerdale looking for any way – legitimate or illegal – to separate a coin from its owner.  This was perhaps the biggest test of the whole retraining routine.  Life in Fingerdale was appealing to the uninitiated; but life in Fingerdale was certainly not easy.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]Chapter Five: A LITTLE REVENGE

Three relatively calm months had passed since the party found themselves facing off against the small reptilian opponents who had been summoned by the calling of the dragon. Grixanthrosilithiss had not ventured over the mountains into Tongra in an attempt to exact personal revenge upon his runaway Provenience. In spite of the lack of revenge from the red wyrm, even once they had returned the whole way to Rhema’s father’s home they refused to let their guard down for several weeks. Rhema’s father lived in the sleepy hamlet of Huetown under Lord Ironblood’s domain, but the relative isolation brought them little comfort. During each night Semeion, Rhema, Ischarus, or Charis would inevitably find themselves keeping watch over the family estate from the ground floor of Rhema’s father’s two story stone villa. Many nights Charis found herself dodging shadows that seemed to her to be in the shape of Druff. The first few weeks passed by slowly as they all awaited retribution.

Rhema was the first to begin to let her guard return to normal. Of course, normal meant the typical state of heightened awareness that comes from knowingly operating a farm villa using rescued persons from Quehalost as workers. The majority of the workers were not permanent residents at the villa. Instead they would stay until such a time as they had grown accustomed to life in Tongra that they could make it on their own. There was a constant threat that someone from Quehalost, whom the party confronted earlier, could pass through the northern region of Tongra following the trail of the freedom fighters.

Of course, the trail would lead them directly to the northern edge of Tongra where the would-be pursuers would inevitably become attracted by the capitol of Lord Ironblood’s land, Fingerdale. Lord Ironblood was a ruthless manager of all the resources within and he knew precisely how to tax his residents so that they would be able to survive with only a small margin of profit to show. Lord Ironblood seemed capable of knowing just how far his serfs could be pushed before they would revolt. Fortunately for him, Lord Ironblood had never crossed that line. Of course, Lord Ironblood also kept his people safe with a highly trained and well paid army. Lord Ironblood’s serfs knew their life was difficult financially, but they were also a safe people. Most of Lord Ironblood’s serfs resented the taxes of the land but were loyal to the life they had grown accustomed to.

It was this very security that lead Rhema’s father to the land many years ago. It was this security that kept Rhema’s father precisely in Lord Ironblood’s land in spite of the taxes. The lord and many of his officers knew full well of the operations that ran out of Rhema’s father’s villa. Rhema’s father paid a hefty tribute to keep the lips of those officers closed. Yet everyone at the villa knew that secrets would inevitably leek out if the right person paid enough for the information. This was the danger of living in a land where money dominated personal relationships. So long as the rescue operations brought enough wealth back to keep the nobles and Lord Ironblood happy there would be no trouble. If Rhema and her associates ever worked against a force in Quehalost that had considerable resources there was the risk of trouble.

There was no doubt that Grixanthrosilithiss had such wealth, but being a red dragon it was rather unlikely that he would part with wealth to merely regain a Provenience. There were other methods that would be much more satisfying to his loyal underlings. It was precisely that thought that kept Charis awake at night and precisely that thought that she had to overcome in order to regain living a normal life.

Fortunately for Charis, she had two things working in her favor as she strove toward overcoming her fear of retribution from the red wyrm. First, her new associates had managed to meet up with six of her kin who were also fleeing from Quehalost. Once her kin recognized Charis they readily followed Ischarus, Rhema, and Semeion into the land of Tongra and eventually to Huetown and the family villa. The fact that there were then seven who were going through the retraining process made it easier. 

Furthermore, the family villa knew that often the first step in retraining was ensuring that those being retrained spoke the proper language of the land. Semeion took a keen interest in teaching the language to the refugees; and Rhema’s father was more than ready to hand that task over to Semeion. With Semeion as the teacher, Rhema demonstrated a quick knack at learning the common tongue of the civilized lands. By the end of the first two weeks, every refugee had a working vocabulary of useful terms for life on the villa and they were able to construct simple sentences. By the end of the full three months, each of the refugees had proven relative command over the spoken language – although none of them had progressed at all in their ability to read. This meant little, however, because the average person in Tongra could do little reading and the refugees were not even able to read in their native draconic tongue!

Once the refugees had a working mastery of the civilized tongue, they were allowed to come and go at their leisure. Of course, this was assuming that their responsibilities at the villa had been attended and completed. Part of the retraining program was to teach the refugees that money was necessary for life as well as the fact that the only honest way to make money in the civilized lands was to learn how to balance work with leisure. In the beginning, the more timid refugees stayed on the villa and worked hard – often stockpiling their wages. However, eventually even the most timid of the refugees learned that their minor accumulation of wealth drew them out into the small town of Huetown. Here they began to learn how the civilized world traded, bartered, and bought what they needed.

Huetown was a small town, roughly existing on a working population of 900 residents during most of the year. This population size was ideal for allowing the refugees to learn about wealth and commerce. The whole town was accustomed to the occasional wave of refugees from Rhema’s father’s villa and by now had begun to assume responsibility for training these refugees in the ways of Tongra commerce. Of course, nobody in the town truly understood where the refugees can from and most knew enough not to ask. The shopkeepers knew to be patient, which was usually relatively easy in such a small town. The innkeeper and tavern owner knew to keep watch over the refugees until they learned the environment of inn and tavern life. Through it all, it wasn’t too long before each of the refugees had begun to show independence and the ability to function on their own in the civilized realm.

The final step in retraining a refugee was introduction to the life in Fingerdale. Fingerdale was certainly not the largest of cities in Tongra; but it did have a respectable working population of around 10,000 people. This central city of Lord Ironblood’s land became the place where the refugees learned about discerning which shops to choose, how to recognize safe areas of cities, and even how to get along with the local city guard. Of course, street merchants, thieves, wandering minstrels, and the like roamed the streets of Fingerdale looking for any way – legitimate or illegal – to separate a coin from its owner. This was perhaps the biggest test of the whole retraining routine. Life in Fingerdale was appealing to the uninitiated; but life in Fingerdale was certainly not easy.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 3, 2006)

It was precisely this first trip to Fingerdale that Charis learned part of her nature as Drakontos.  Of course, Semeion had become her guide in intellectual development, but it was Ischarus who had much to teach her about the various types of Drakontos throughout the world.  As Rhema, Ischarus, and Semeion led Charis into Fingerdale, Rhema decided that she would try to prepare Charis for the great variety of stores, experiences, and even people that she might encounter.  “Basically, Charis, there are nearly every kind of surface dwelling people within the city of Fingerdale.  You’ll find Dwarves, Gnomes, Elves, and all kinds of Humans like myself.  You’ve no doubt noticed the differences in skin color, height, and even eye shape and size.”

Rhema wrinkled her eyes as she thought about the variety of people she had encountered since leaving her village in Quehalost.  “Is the entire world this unique?  I am accustomed to everyone being a Drakontos.  How do you ever learn to tell the difference?”

Knowing Ischarus and his pride of heritage, Rhema began to chuckle.  “Yes, Charis, the world is quite a large place filled with all varieties of people.  The Drakontai that you know are born from beings coming from when a dragon has mated with a human being.  A few generations after that particular mating and you end up with Drakontai.  Humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, and other races do not have a noticeable amount of dragon blood in them, although none of us really truly know of what exactly we are made up.  We have our tendencies that give us clues, but we truly do not know exactly what we are completely.  Take the elves for example.  Anyone with sharply defined features and thin ears may well have Elf blood in them.  But as to whether that blood is pure Elf or perhaps containing a bit of Human or even Drakontai blood nobody can be sure.”

Charis looked to Rhema as though she understood the words that Charis spoke but not the meaning behind them.  “You mean to tell me that you do not have a father dragon?”

Rhema laughed once more before replying, and this time her laughter was joined by Ischarus. “Much to Ischarus’ dismay, no.  I do not have a father dragon.  I am like Semeion.  Our races – and most races – do not have draconic heritage.  We are our own people guided by our own ways.  That is not to say that somewhere along the way I don’t have a free Drakontos ancestor.  But that is not a noticeable part of who I am.”

Rhema looked with a shocked expression toward Semeion.  “You do not have a dragon father either?”

Semeion smiled, although a bit concerned that this revelation might come at expense to their growing care for each other.  “No, Charis.  I am Human.  Humans do not get their lineage from the heavens or the pits of despair or from dragons.  We are simply our own race.  Did you never notice that Rhema and I do not speak of our dragon fathers like Ischarus?”

Rhema took Semeion’s words a bit harshly and cast her eyes first to the ground and then to the image of Fingerdale as they approached the outer walls on foot.  “I merely assumed that you were not proud of your heritage or that your dragon father led you in evil much like my dragon father led me.  It never occurred to me that people could exist without dragon fathers from whom they come.”

Semeion read her body language and apologized.  His hand reached around her shoulders and he drew Charis into his chest for a quick hug as they walked.  “It’s alright, Charis.  This is part of the training.  There are many assumptions to life that you will make because all you knew was the reality your dragon father taught you.  That is our job with you now.  It is our job with you and with the rest of the refugees from your village.  And when you have learned, it will be your job to help the next round of refugees.  You’ll probably have an advantage over the rest of us because you know what the retraining process is like and we do not.”

Charis received Semeion’s hug well and welcomed the embrace.  The contact was enough to shake away any of the embarrassment that she had felt.  “So the rest of the races you have told me about.  The Dwarves, the Elves, the Gnomes, the Orcs, and even the Goblins do not have dragon fathers?”

Ischarus, in the lead and looking forward to arriving in Fingerdale, replied to the honest question.  “That is correct.  Actually, it is only the Drakontos who can claim a draconic heritage.  Sure, it is true that the Aasimar can claim some form of heritage from the great heavens and the Tiefling can claim some sort of parentage from the pits of despair.  But the rest of the races on this land can claim parentage to some natural life here independent of dragons, beings from the heavens, or beings from despair.”

The party traveled in relative silence for the next minute or so while Charis pondered the new information.  They quickly approached the outer gate of the city of Fingerdale.  The walls were imposing to anyone approaching on foot to say the least.  Their stone structure had been built to withstand two immediate threats.  In desperate times long past, great sailing ships of large beings were known to raid towns and villages along the edges of the continent of Enigmatica.  There were those in the land who still claimed to remember and they merely referred to these large people as giants.  The walls of Fingerdale were constructed so as to be too tall for even these giant men to scale over without the use of ladders.  

The second threat to the city was much more real.  The river Sesquanitoos passed by the edge of the city before flowing into the great ocean not far away to the north.  These tall stone walls had been magically sealed by the local wizards and their apprentices so as to keep the water from swelling into the city should the river surge over its banks.  The walls enabled the city to become a dry haven in the case of a swelling of the river.

As Charis looked at the imposing walls and remembered the lesson that Semeion had taught her about the reason for their height, she noticed a strange rune in one of the massive stones.  When she drew closer to the rune she recognized that it was not a single rune but a series of tightly inscribed runes wrapping around each other.  This new discover caused her to study the wall further and she noticed that each and every one of the stones used in the wall that had a diameter of more than a foot had the same set of runes etched within the rock face.  Charis looked intrigued at the wall; and none of her companions desired to interrupt her curiosity.  After all, it was for Charis’ sake that they had come to Fingerdale.

Charis stretch out her hand and traced the runes.  As she did, her companions drew nearer to her in support of her action.  When they drew closer to the wall they saw that it was the runes that had captivated Charis’ attention.  They found within themselves a new sense of appreciation for the etchings that they had taken for granted so many times.  As Charis traced the runes with her finger, her mind began to spin as though being overcome with a slight dizziness.  Her eyes blurred for a single moment and as her fingers finished tracing the rune she came out of the dizziness spell.  Rhema took note that Charis’ eyes glowed with a faint blue aura for just a second.

Charis spoke confidently; she was quite proud of her newest discovery.  “The runes say something that is loosely translated as ‘May the element of fire shield these walls from the destructive surges of water.’  But I don’t know how I know that.”  Although she was a bit confused at exactly how she could read the magical runes she was incredibly proud that she had made this discovery without the help of the others.

Ischarus and Rhema looked to Semeion for confirmation.  Semeion paused for a moment and spoke softly.  “Thizzle-sooth”  Like Charis, Semeion’s eyes began to glow with a similar faint blue magical aura.  Once his eyes had finished scanning the runes a smile passed across his face.  “She is correct.  The runes call upon the power of the element of fire to strengthen these walls in the event of a flood of the river Sesquanitoos.”

His eyes returned to a normal coloration as he spoke to his friends.  “But, the language is magical in nature.  It is not draconic and it is certainly not the common tongue.  Charis, have you always been able to read magical writings?”

As the eyes of her companions turned to her, Charis suddenly felt as though a weight struck her from behind.  She fell forward into the wall and immediately doubled over as if to vomit.  She collapsed to rest her knees upon the ground.  Her left elbow shot out to keep her forehead from smashing into the solid earth below.  Her right arm had been tucked up into her abdomen as her body began to offer up violent dry heaves.  Several times she tried to call upon her healing powers, but the sickness had overcome her with too much force.  The words would not come.

Semeion and Ischarus immediately turned around to try and locate what had caused her to collapse into the wall.  Although there was no lack of people headed into and out of the gates of Fingerdale, none of them looked with any interest onto the happenings of Charis.  Rhema knelt beside Charis and tried to console her.  

After a few moments of feeling the desire to vomit upon the ground but being unable to bring anything up, Charis began to calm down with Rhema’s help.  As she calmed down, Charis spoke with a tone of frustration, “I don’t know what overcame me.  One minute I was reading the magical runes like I had never done before and the next minute I had lost my balance and became sick to my stomach.”

Semeion and Ischarus continued to look for interested parties, but they could find none.  If the source of the sickness was external, that very source evaded them.  If the sickness was internal, there had been no indication that she was growing ill.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
It was precisely this first trip to Fingerdale that Charis learned part of her nature as Drakontos. Of course, Semeion had become her guide in intellectual development, but it was Ischarus who had much to teach her about the various types of Drakontos throughout the world. As Rhema, Ischarus, and Semeion led Charis into Fingerdale, Rhema decided that she would try to prepare Charis for the great variety of stores, experiences, and even people that she might encounter. “Basically, Charis, there are nearly every kind of surface dwelling people within the city of Fingerdale. You’ll find Dwarves, Gnomes, Elves, and all kinds of Humans like myself. You’ve no doubt noticed the differences in skin color, height, and even eye shape and size.”

Rhema wrinkled her eyes as she thought about the variety of people she had encountered since leaving her village in Quehalost. “Is the entire world this unique? I am accustomed to everyone being a Drakontos. How do you ever learn to tell the difference?”

Knowing Ischarus and his pride of heritage, Rhema began to chuckle. “Yes, Charis, the world is quite a large place filled with all varieties of people. The Drakontai that you know are born from beings coming from when a dragon has mated with a human being. A few generations after that particular mating and you end up with Drakontai. Humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, and other races do not have a noticeable amount of dragon blood in them, although none of us really truly know of what exactly we are made up. We have our tendencies that give us clues, but we truly do not know exactly what we are completely. Take the elves for example. Anyone with sharply defined features and thin ears may well have Elf blood in them. But as to whether that blood is pure Elf or perhaps containing a bit of Human or even Drakontai blood nobody can be sure.”

Charis looked to Rhema as though she understood the words that Charis spoke but not the meaning behind them. “You mean to tell me that you do not have a father dragon?”

Rhema laughed once more before replying, and this time her laughter was joined by Ischarus. “Much to Ischarus’ dismay, no. I do not have a father dragon. I am like Semeion. Our races – and most races – do not have draconic heritage. We are our own people guided by our own ways. That is not to say that somewhere along the way I don’t have a free Drakontos ancestor. But that is not a noticeable part of who I am.”

Rhema looked with a shocked expression toward Semeion. “You do not have a dragon father either?”

Semeion smiled, although a bit concerned that this revelation might come at expense to their growing care for each other. “No, Charis. I am Human. Humans do not get their lineage from the heavens or the pits of despair or from dragons. We are simply our own race. Did you never notice that Rhema and I do not speak of our dragon fathers like Ischarus?”

Rhema took Semeion’s words a bit harshly and cast her eyes first to the ground and then to the image of Fingerdale as they approached the outer walls on foot. “I merely assumed that you were not proud of your heritage or that your dragon father led you in evil much like my dragon father led me. It never occurred to me that people could exist without dragon fathers from whom they come.”

Semeion read her body language and apologized. His hand reached around her shoulders and he drew Charis into his chest for a quick hug as they walked. “It’s alright, Charis. This is part of the training. There are many assumptions to life that you will make because all you knew was the reality your dragon father taught you. That is our job with you now. It is our job with you and with the rest of the refugees from your village. And when you have learned, it will be your job to help the next round of refugees. You’ll probably have an advantage over the rest of us because you know what the retraining process is like and we do not.”

Charis received Semeion’s hug well and welcomed the embrace. The contact was enough to shake away any of the embarrassment that she had felt. “So the rest of the races you have told me about. The Dwarves, the Elves, the Gnomes, the Orcs, and even the Goblins do not have dragon fathers?”

Ischarus, in the lead and looking forward to arriving in Fingerdale, replied to the honest question. “That is correct. Actually, it is only the Drakontos who can claim a draconic heritage. Sure, it is true that the Aasimar can claim some form of heritage from the great heavens and the Tiefling can claim some sort of parentage from the pits of despair. But the rest of the races on this land can claim parentage to some natural life here independent of dragons, beings from the heavens, or beings from despair.”

The party traveled in relative silence for the next minute or so while Charis pondered the new information. They quickly approached the outer gate of the city of Fingerdale. The walls were imposing to anyone approaching on foot to say the least. Their stone structure had been built to withstand two immediate threats. In desperate times long past, great sailing ships of large beings were known to raid towns and villages along the edges of the continent of Enigmatica. There were those in the land who still claimed to remember and they merely referred to these large people as giants. The walls of Fingerdale were constructed so as to be too tall for even these giant men to scale over without the use of ladders. 

The second threat to the city was much more real. The river Sesquanitoos passed by the edge of the city before flowing into the great ocean not far away to the north. These tall stone walls had been magically sealed by the local wizards and their apprentices so as to keep the water from swelling into the city should the river surge over its banks. The walls enabled the city to become a dry haven in the case of a swelling of the river.

As Charis looked at the imposing walls and remembered the lesson that Semeion had taught her about the reason for their height, she noticed a strange rune in one of the massive stones. When she drew closer to the rune she recognized that it was not a single rune but a series of tightly inscribed runes wrapping around each other. This new discover caused her to study the wall further and she noticed that each and every one of the stones used in the wall that had a diameter of more than a foot had the same set of runes etched within the rock face. Charis looked intrigued at the wall; and none of her companions desired to interrupt her curiosity. After all, it was for Charis’ sake that they had come to Fingerdale.

Charis stretch out her hand and traced the runes. As she did, her companions drew nearer to her in support of her action. When they drew closer to the wall they saw that it was the runes that had captivated Charis’ attention. They found within themselves a new sense of appreciation for the etchings that they had taken for granted so many times. As Charis traced the runes with her finger, her mind began to spin as though being overcome with a slight dizziness. Her eyes blurred for a single moment and as her fingers finished tracing the rune she came out of the dizziness spell. Rhema took note that Charis’ eyes glowed with a faint blue aura for just a second.

Charis spoke confidently; she was quite proud of her newest discovery. “The runes say something that is loosely translated as ‘May the element of fire shield these walls from the destructive surges of water.’ But I don’t know how I know that.” Although she was a bit confused at exactly how she could read the magical runes she was incredibly proud that she had made this discovery without the help of the others.

Ischarus and Rhema looked to Semeion for confirmation. Semeion paused for a moment and spoke softly. “Thizzle-sooth” Like Charis, Semeion’s eyes began to glow with a similar faint blue magical aura. Once his eyes had finished scanning the runes a smile passed across his face. “She is correct. The runes call upon the power of the element of fire to strengthen these walls in the event of a flood of the river Sesquanitoos.”

His eyes returned to a normal coloration as he spoke to his friends. “But, the language is magical in nature. It is not draconic and it is certainly not the common tongue. Charis, have you always been able to read magical writings?”

As the eyes of her companions turned to her, Charis suddenly felt as though a weight struck her from behind. She fell forward into the wall and immediately doubled over as if to vomit. She collapsed to rest her knees upon the ground. Her left elbow shot out to keep her forehead from smashing into the solid earth below. Her right arm had been tucked up into her abdomen as her body began to offer up violent dry heaves. Several times she tried to call upon her healing powers, but the sickness had overcome her with too much force. The words would not come.

Semeion and Ischarus immediately turned around to try and locate what had caused her to collapse into the wall. Although there was no lack of people headed into and out of the gates of Fingerdale, none of them looked with any interest onto the happenings of Charis. Rhema knelt beside Charis and tried to console her. 

After a few moments of feeling the desire to vomit upon the ground but being unable to bring anything up, Charis began to calm down with Rhema’s help. As she calmed down, Charis spoke with a tone of frustration, “I don’t know what overcame me. One minute I was reading the magical runes like I had never done before and the next minute I had lost my balance and became sick to my stomach.”

Semeion and Ischarus continued to look for interested parties, but they could find none. If the source of the sickness was external, that very source evaded them. If the sickness was internal, there had been no indication that she was growing ill.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 5, 2006)

Charis slowly raised herself up from being doubled over in sickness.  “Maybe I just need to find something to eat.  I don’t know why, but I have this sudden urge for peanuts and milk.”

Semeion and Ischarus looked to each other with a disapproving look upon their faces.  Semeion mouthed the words “Peanuts and Milk?” to Ischarus without offering any sound.  Still, they could find nobody who seemed to be interested in their situation.  There was nobody that seemed desiring to take advantage of Charis’ sudden ill feeling.

Ischarus looked to Semeion, yet spoke to Charis.  “Perhaps the problem isn’t external, Charis.  Nobody seems interested in what is happening here.”

Rhema looked at Charis with a bit of concern when she started to ask for a strange combination of food.  Her thoughts had already been interrupted by Ischarus and now they were interrupted by Semeion.  “I’ve never heard of reading magic making one sick, although I’ve not known one like yourself who gets their magical power from a draconic or even heavenly source as part of their lineage.  All of my understanding of magic and arcane writing comes from associations with intense study.”

Charis looked up at Semeion, not appreciative of his matter-of fact analysis of their current situation.  “I doubt that my powers are at fault here, Semeion.  I’ve never been sick through using them before.

Rhema slightly smiled at Charis and tried to ease her pain.  “Is there any possibility that before we met you …”

Rhema’s voice trailed off into nothingness.  The thought was too much to even say.  If she was right, she was certainly not prepared for the consequences.  She wasn’t sure that Ischarus – and especially Semeion – would be prepared for the consequences as well.  The fact that her sickness appeared while reading a magic rune led her thoughts in a disturbing way.  

Charis turned her head to Rhema as she still knelt on all fours upon the ground.  “Before we met what, Rhema?”

Rhema shook her head slowly from side to side.  She could tell from the way Charis turned her head slowly and spoke softly that she was still physically in distress.  Her guess was that Charis’ head was still swimming.  “Do you think that you are able to stand, Charis?  I know that this is an odd situation and took you by surprise, but if we can get you back onto your feet and walking about perhaps your head might clear and your powers of healing might return to you.  If your powers of healing return, I’m sure you could resolve whatever is wrong within you peaceably for your sake.”

Rhema had chosen her words wisely.  She still debated internally as to the source of Charis’ distress, but she did not want to overtly explain her thoughts.  She had never been around a natural healer such as Charis, but she assumed that whatever was wrong with her could not be caused by a natural healer using her own powers on herself.

Charis removed her hand and arm from around her waist and held it out so as to grip Rhema’s palm.  Charis gripped Rhema’s hand and Rhema stiffened her arm so as to help Charis off of the ground.  Rhema knew she was the weaker of the women, but she was unprepared for Charis’ firm grip.  Her face winced in pain as Charis gripped too tightly.  Although now in shared pain, the two women rose to their feet slowly.  Rhema helped Charis take a few steps; and Charis’ head began to clear as Rhema had earlier predicted.  The cobwebs of sickness that had been slowing down her mind began to vanish as her blood flow returned to normal with the exercise.

After a few steps Charis stopped moving and flexed her fingers several times.  A slight smile came across her face as she could feel a renewed energy welling up inside of her.  Her head turned a quarter turn to the left in the direction of Rhema.  “I think I am ready to try and heal myself now.”

Her right hand glowed with a slight yellowish glow and Charis placed her palm upon her abdomen.  A smile broke across her face as her pain subsided.  In a matter of seconds she had completely recovered from the pain as if she had never felt it.   She continued to speak once she had given her powers a moment to work.  “Well, then.  I suppose there is a benefit to being a natural healer.  I never need feel the effects of an illness besides the initial cramping and discomfort!”

Semeion was pleased to see the smile return to Charis’ beautifully shaped face.  He couldn’t help but smile in return, although his voice spoke with a cautious hesitation.  “So, do you still feel like having peanuts and milk?”

Charis looked back to Semeion and replied, “Of course.  Peanuts and milk both sound good.  But I’m not sure that I’d like them together.  Milk will settle my stomach if there is indeed something wrong; and the salt of the peanut sounds good after our morning walk from Huetown.”

Semeion turned toward Ischarus and gestured in relief.  Ischarus added to the conversation, “I suppose I could go for some market peanuts, especially if they have been slow roasted over an open fire for a few hours.”

The party headed along the wall back toward the main road leading into Lord Ironblood’s primary city of Fingerdale.  There were a number of people headed into the city; in fact there were many more headed in that coming out.  This was not odd or unusual for the morning hour of the day.  Even with their journey from Fingerdale the morning was only now coming to an end and the merchants would still have a significant amount of selling to accomplish.

As they approached the front gate, Charis saw the massive wooden gates for the first time.  The gates opened inward and were reinforced by heavy metal bands along the vertical and horizontal.  Each beam within each gate began and ended in a metal cap.  Huge metal chains hung from the inside corners; apparently these were the chains that provided the necessary force to open the massive doors.  Above the top of the gateway was a single tower.  Scrawled across the face of tower was a long word written in the same magical language as the words written upon the stones of the wall.

Semeion looked up and began to speak.  “The word means …”

Charis interrupted him before he could give away any of the magical secrets.  “Hush!  My newfound ability to read this language should still be accessible.”  She looked up and began to focus upon the word.  Suddenly she lurched one step forward and collapsed flat onto the ground.  This time she had passed out completely, although she seemed to be in no immediate danger.

Semeion and Ischarus immediately took up defensive positions.  Rhema crouched down once more, only to discover that Charis was unable to respond.  In a stroke of what seemed like brilliance, Ischarus began to yell.  The three companions had found themselves in the midst of a significant flow of travelers.  Fortunately, although they were surrounded neither Ischarus nor Semeion felt the need to draw weapons once Ischarus began to yell.  “Unclean!  Plague!  Be warned and stay back!”

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
Charis slowly raised herself up from being doubled over in sickness. “Maybe I just need to find something to eat. I don’t know why, but I have this sudden urge for peanuts and milk.”

Semeion and Ischarus looked to each other with a disapproving look upon their faces. Semeion mouthed the words “Peanuts and Milk?” to Ischarus without offering any sound. Still, they could find nobody who seemed to be interested in their situation. There was nobody that seemed desiring to take advantage of Charis’ sudden ill feeling.

Ischarus looked to Semeion, yet spoke to Charis. “Perhaps the problem isn’t external, Charis. Nobody seems interested in what is happening here.”

Rhema looked at Charis with a bit of concern when she started to ask for a strange combination of food. Her thoughts had already been interrupted by Ischarus and now they were interrupted by Semeion. “I’ve never heard of reading magic making one sick, although I’ve not known one like yourself who gets their magical power from a draconic or even heavenly source as part of their lineage. All of my understanding of magic and arcane writing comes from associations with intense study.”

Charis looked up at Semeion, not appreciative of his matter-of fact analysis of their current situation. “I doubt that my powers are at fault here, Semeion. I’ve never been sick through using them before.

Rhema slightly smiled at Charis and tried to ease her pain. “Is there any possibility that before we met you …”

Rhema’s voice trailed off into nothingness. The thought was too much to even say. If she was right, she was certainly not prepared for the consequences. She wasn’t sure that Ischarus – and especially Semeion – would be prepared for the consequences as well. The fact that her sickness appeared while reading a magic rune led her thoughts in a disturbing way. 

Charis turned her head to Rhema as she still knelt on all fours upon the ground. “Before we met what, Rhema?”

Rhema shook her head slowly from side to side. She could tell from the way Charis turned her head slowly and spoke softly that she was still physically in distress. Her guess was that Charis’ head was still swimming. “Do you think that you are able to stand, Charis? I know that this is an odd situation and took you by surprise, but if we can get you back onto your feet and walking about perhaps your head might clear and your powers of healing might return to you. If your powers of healing return, I’m sure you could resolve whatever is wrong within you peaceably for your sake.”

Rhema had chosen her words wisely. She still debated internally as to the source of Charis’ distress, but she did not want to overtly explain her thoughts. She had never been around a natural healer such as Charis, but she assumed that whatever was wrong with her could not be caused by a natural healer using her own powers on herself.

Charis removed her hand and arm from around her waist and held it out so as to grip Rhema’s palm. Charis gripped Rhema’s hand and Rhema stiffened her arm so as to help Charis off of the ground. Rhema knew she was the weaker of the women, but she was unprepared for Charis’ firm grip. Her face winced in pain as Charis gripped too tightly. Although now in shared pain, the two women rose to their feet slowly. Rhema helped Charis take a few steps; and Charis’ head began to clear as Rhema had earlier predicted. The cobwebs of sickness that had been slowing down her mind began to vanish as her blood flow returned to normal with the exercise.

After a few steps Charis stopped moving and flexed her fingers several times. A slight smile came across her face as she could feel a renewed energy welling up inside of her. Her head turned a quarter turn to the left in the direction of Rhema. “I think I am ready to try and heal myself now.”

Her right hand glowed with a slight yellowish glow and Charis placed her palm upon her abdomen. A smile broke across her face as her pain subsided. In a matter of seconds she had completely recovered from the pain as if she had never felt it. She continued to speak once she had given her powers a moment to work. “Well, then. I suppose there is a benefit to being a natural healer. I never need feel the effects of an illness besides the initial cramping and discomfort!”

Semeion was pleased to see the smile return to Charis’ beautifully shaped face. He couldn’t help but smile in return, although his voice spoke with a cautious hesitation. “So, do you still feel like having peanuts and milk?”

Charis looked back to Semeion and replied, “Of course. Peanuts and milk both sound good. But I’m not sure that I’d like them together. Milk will settle my stomach if there is indeed something wrong; and the salt of the peanut sounds good after our morning walk from Huetown.”

Semeion turned toward Ischarus and gestured in relief. Ischarus added to the conversation, “I suppose I could go for some market peanuts, especially if they have been slow roasted over an open fire for a few hours.”

The party headed along the wall back toward the main road leading into Lord Ironblood’s primary city of Fingerdale. There were a number of people headed into the city; in fact there were many more headed in that coming out. This was not odd or unusual for the morning hour of the day. Even with their journey from Fingerdale the morning was only now coming to an end and the merchants would still have a significant amount of selling to accomplish.

As they approached the front gate, Charis saw the massive wooden gates for the first time. The gates opened inward and were reinforced by heavy metal bands along the vertical and horizontal. Each beam within each gate began and ended in a metal cap. Huge metal chains hung from the inside corners; apparently these were the chains that provided the necessary force to open the massive doors. Above the top of the gateway was a single tower. Scrawled across the face of tower was a long word written in the same magical language as the words written upon the stones of the wall.

Semeion looked up and began to speak. “The word means …”

Charis interrupted him before he could give away any of the magical secrets. “Hush! My newfound ability to read this language should still be accessible.” She looked up and began to focus upon the word. Suddenly she lurched one step forward and collapsed flat onto the ground. This time she had passed out completely, although she seemed to be in no immediate danger.

Semeion and Ischarus immediately took up defensive positions. Rhema crouched down once more, only to discover that Charis was unable to respond. In a stroke of what seemed like brilliance, Ischarus began to yell. The three companions had found themselves in the midst of a significant flow of travelers. Fortunately, although they were surrounded neither Ischarus nor Semeion felt the need to draw weapons once Ischarus began to yell. “Unclean! Plague! Be warned and stay back!”
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 6, 2006)

As the ring of unclean and plague rang out across the gated entrance to the city of Fingerdale, even the two tower guards that had started down the stairs upon seeing Charis fall to the ground had stopped and reeled back.  There was simply no messing with anyone that had a plague.  Sure, they probably had come to the town to find healing from one of the temple priests or priestesses.  But there was no need to involve a non-priestly healthy body with a plagued victim until they had been cleansed by the proper healing power.  To make matters worse, most of the people who were watching Charis were at least vaguely aware that this was now the second time that she had collapsed in a matter of minutes.  It would seem that her condition was grave.

This didn’t particularly stop people from entering or exiting Fingerdale, however.  Instead, it was as if a magical traffic circle had been formed in the center of the gate directly under the tower.  People entering the town veered to their right and crowded together so as to give the fallen woman as wide of a berth as possible.  People exiting also veered to their right as they passed under the gateway.  Neither Ischarus nor Semeion felt in any particular danger once the crowd had been made aware that messing with them would not be very wise.  Of course, the people had no way of knowing that the cry from Ischarus had simply been an improvisation.  The crowd didn’t need to know that little bit of information, after all.

Rhema looked up from Charis and said quietly, “She’s not moving.  She doesn’t seem to be in any particular danger because she is still breathing and all.  But she is completely unconscious and just laying upon the ground.”

Ischarus looked to Semeion and said, “I’ll carry her to the nearest temple where they will at least be able to revive her.  I don’t know if a simple healing can cure her of whatever is wrong.  If she did heal herself and still fell victim to the sickness again so quickly, perhaps healing magic is not the answer.”

Semeion smiled grimly as Ischarus spoke of carrying her to the temple.  “Well, whether or not she can be cured, I think it is possible to make your trip a bit more convincing.

Rhema noticed his smile and smiled back.  “Semeion, I don’t know what exactly you are thinking, but that smile at least makes me want to find out.  Are you thinking of adding onto the belief that Charis is a victim of some kind of plague?”

Semeion nodded and replied, “Precisely.  That is exactly what I had in mind.”  He lifted his hand up from the ground as he crouched nearby her body and slowly extended it toward Charis.  “Par Ah-sahn.” 

As his magically charged finger touched her skin, the slight blue aura discharged across her body.  It was visible to anyone that had been paying close attention but among the chaos and fear of the plague it was unlikely that anyone really saw what Semeion had done.  However, immediately Charis’ skin broke out into small boils about the size of small chicken pox scars.  Ischarus and Rhema also pulled back away from Charis out of instinct. 

As he pulled back, Ischarus proclaimed his displeasure.  “Ugh!  Did you do the smell, too?”

Semeion only responded with a near diabolical smile.  The smell reminded Ischarus of rotting flesh mixed with stale blood.  Of course, Ischarus knew that the smell was perfect for a leper or a plague victim.  In spite of this knowledge his face did not seem highly interested in having to carry that smell halfway across town to the temple.  Given his familiarity with Fingerdale and the religious nature of the common person anyway, Ischarus knew that the temples would be located near the center of town in the places of honor and in the locations for the greatest protection should invading armies ever come against the city.

Rhema also commented on the effects of the spell as she pulled back.  “Did you seriously have to make it quite so pungent, Semeion?”

Semeion replied.  “If you are going to make an illusion that is designed to fool the people you’d best make it believable by all.  Master Sathwright taught me that as one of my first arcane lessons.”

Ischarus rolled Charis’ body over so that she was lying on her back and scooped her up in both arms.  “If your master could see you now, he’d be proud of this one.”

Semeion’s smile vanished into sorrow.  “If…”  His voice trailed into nothingness as his mind raced back to the encounter with the green dragon in which his clumsiness had gotten his master killed.

Rhema noticed Semeion’s sudden sadness.  As Ischarus rose to his feet with Charis she looked to Semeion and directed his action.  “Now stay in the back and make sure that we are not followed.  We’ve no idea what is causing this effect in Charis and the last thing we need is a tail.  I’ll go to the front and make sure Ischarus has a clear path to the temple.”

Semeion nodded.  His mind was still miles away from this city.  He had mentally retreated back to the hilltop above the forest.  He had not been there for months, and it had been a while since he had even given it a passing thought.

Rhema charged ahead of Ischarus and yelled to the crowd.  “We’re carrying a plague victim, people!  Move it or plan on visiting a priest.  It’s a simple choice!”  It was really much more than was necessary to get people to get out of the way, but it effectively moved the people more quickly.  Even a few of the cart and carriage drivers worked hard to jerk their horses away from Ischarus’ path as their horses trotted down the central street into the temple district.

Soon Rhema found the temple she was looking for.  It was also the temple that Ischarus had first introduced her to.  The edifice was huge and completely made of marble on the outside.  The entire temple was over one hundred feet wide and well over two hundred and fifty feet long.  Columns ran the entire front of the building, each column over five feet in diameter.  There were two varieties of columns.  The far right and far left columns as well as the central column were carved in order to depict the same figure.  The columns were in the shape of a man in full armor holding a long lance and a shield that rose from the ground to his chin.  The shield was a perfect rectangle, although it had obviously been rounded to fit the curvature of the column.  This image was not engraved into the column; the column had been sculpted to so that the entire column was the image of the warrior.  The remaining columns along the front were tributes to what had to be the most powerful creature native to Enigmatica: the dragon.  As Ischarus viewed the temple, he noted that each of the dragons he revered for their purity of heart and benevolence were all represented in the columns.

Above the columns, the temple roof rose on a relatively flat pitch.  Just below the crest of the roof was a simple seal.  The seal depicted the sun watching over all the actions of all the figures represented among the columns.  Of course, the sun also watched over all who approached the temple by ascending either of the two central staircases.  Each staircase ran between the central column of the man and the column of the dragon immediately beside it.

Rhema charged for the temple, screaming louder as she approached.  One woman was exiting the temple as she heard Rhema’s cries.  Not wanting to immediately soil her purity having just come from the temple herself, the woman hurriedly descended the stairs – leaping over the last five marble steps to ensure she would be well clear before Rhema got to the steps.  Rhema charged up the steps and approached the central door.  Once she had reached the door she paused and waited for Ischarus and Semeion.  She had enjoyed the rouse of getting people to move out of the way; but she knew that there was no great need to alarm the temple staff themselves.  Charis’ apparent condition was simply a rouse.  The real cause of her illness was not the plague.  It was more likely something much more difficult to diagnose.

Ischarus climbed the steps one at a time.  He made it appear as though he was being delicate on the steps in order to avoid tripping.  He was unable to see each step do to Charis lying in his arms before him.  However, in reality his eyes focused on the dragon column to the left of the central stone column shaped as the warrior.  Although the column was to the left to someone viewing the series of columns, it was in truth to the right hand side of the figure depicted in the central column.  Ischarus paused as he approached the columns and the top of the steps.  He thought about setting Charis down on the steps, but considering that the people on the street thought that she had the plague he quickly considered this a poor idea.  Instead he merely bowed slightly to the central human column and bowed a little more deeply to the dragon column that had caught his attention.  It certainly was not a direct image of his father dragon, but it clearly was the right type of dragon.  The central neck frill and regal stance told Ischarus that it was the same type of beautiful dragon being depicted.  Once he had bowed to the columns Ischarus finished ascending the stairs to meet up with Rhema.

Semeion ascended the stairs slowly, continually turning to view the crowd that had easily parted for them to pass.  He still couldn’t see anyone directly following their trail.  As he passed between the columns without giving them a single notice he realized that their trail would not be difficult to follow in the least.  Should someone desire to follow them all they need do is let them get out of sight and ask which temple the plague victim entered.  It would not be a difficult trail to follow.  Even still, he found nobody who demonstrated much less than a passing curiosity or fear of catching the plague.

At the top of the stairs, Rhema looked to Ischarus and Semeion.  “We’ve no clue what we are going to ask of the priests, you know.”

Semeion glanced to the doors and began to think out loud.  “Well, we could simply ask for healing.”

“We could, but that might be pointless and a waste of time and resources.  I say we enter as is and see what they diagnose on their own.”

Semeion nodded in agreement and Rhema opened the large door to let Ischarus pass.  They were immediately greeted at the door by an acolyte who timidly kept his distance.  “Forgive me, sirs and madam.  My actions seem a bit unwelcoming, but I would prefer to…”

Rhema shrugged and interrupted the acolyte.  “Yes, yes.  You don’t want what she’s got.  Very well, then.  Tell us where a healing room is and fetch us a fine priest.”

The acolyte pointed down the hallway.  “Third door on your right should be open.  I’ll send a healing priest right in.”

Inside the room, Rhema fumbled nervously with her thumbs as she waited for the priest.  After a few moments Ischarus had enough and grabbed each of her thumbs with his own hands.  “Something is on your mind, Rhema.  Tell us.  Let us all worry together rather than keeping it to yourself.”

Rhema looked to the floor and then spoke.  “Well, what if we were too late in rescuing her from her dragon father?  What if she isn’t sick, but rather …”

Semeion rose as if to defend Charis’ honor as she lay unconscious across the table in the center of the room.  “No!” he screamed at Rhema, clearly indicating that she had not only caught him off guard but that she had touched a nerve.  “That is not an option.  Not for Charis.  She’s been through enough already and has come so far!”

Ischarus placed a hand upon Semeion’s shoulder.  Semeion brushed it off violently and quickly out of his internal eruption of outrage.  The gesture was nothing personal against Ischarus; it was an act of rebellion against Rhema’s possibility.

Rhema smiled again.  “She may not have had a choice.  Think about it, Semeion.  How could she have just learned a new magic trick?  And her sickness every time she tried to use it – it would make sense if her body was gaining new powers because she was…”

Much to Semeion’s relief the door opened and the noise drowned out the final word of Rhema’s thought.  Semeion didn’t want to hear it anyway.

The three sat in silence as the priest entered the room and immediately began a silent inspection of the girl on the table before him.  After several long silent moments the priest looked up.  “Well, one of you can drop the rouse.  She’s not the victim of a plague.  I can tell you that much.”

Semeion glared at the priest.  His internal fire still burned.  “No, really.” Semeion said full of sarcastic venom as he mentally dismissed his spell that was governing Charis’ appearance.  Charis returned to normal immediately and the smell vanished from the room.  Even the smell lingering in Ischarus’ clothing vanished with the dismissal of the spell.  As Charis returned to normal, Semeion continued in his own sarcastic tone.  “Tell us something we don’t already know.”  His voice betrayed that he had been emotionally wounded recently and was torn between anger and personal injury.

[Sblock=Color Free Speech Section]
As the ring of unclean and plague rang out across the gated entrance to the city of Fingerdale, even the two tower guards that had started down the stairs upon seeing Charis fall to the ground had stopped and reeled back. There was simply no messing with anyone that had a plague. Sure, they probably had come to the town to find healing from one of the temple priests or priestesses. But there was no need to involve a non-priestly healthy body with a plagued victim until they had been cleansed by the proper healing power. To make matters worse, most of the people who were watching Charis were at least vaguely aware that this was now the second time that she had collapsed in a matter of minutes. It would seem that her condition was grave.

This didn’t particularly stop people from entering or exiting Fingerdale, however. Instead, it was as if a magical traffic circle had been formed in the center of the gate directly under the tower. People entering the town veered to their right and crowded together so as to give the fallen woman as wide of a berth as possible. People exiting also veered to their right as they passed under the gateway. Neither Ischarus nor Semeion felt in any particular danger once the crowd had been made aware that messing with them would not be very wise. Of course, the people had no way of knowing that the cry from Ischarus had simply been an improvisation. The crowd didn’t need to know that little bit of information, after all.

Rhema looked up from Charis and said quietly, “She’s not moving. She doesn’t seem to be in any particular danger because she is still breathing and all. But she is completely unconscious and just laying upon the ground.”

Ischarus looked to Semeion and said, “I’ll carry her to the nearest temple where they will at least be able to revive her. I don’t know if a simple healing can cure her of whatever is wrong. If she did heal herself and still fell victim to the sickness again so quickly, perhaps healing magic is not the answer.”

Semeion smiled grimly as Ischarus spoke of carrying her to the temple. “Well, whether or not she can be cured, I think it is possible to make your trip a bit more convincing.

Rhema noticed his smile and smiled back. “Semeion, I don’t know what exactly you are thinking, but that smile at least makes me want to find out. Are you thinking of adding onto the belief that Charis is a victim of some kind of plague?”

Semeion nodded and replied, “Precisely. That is exactly what I had in mind.” He lifted his hand up from the ground as he crouched nearby her body and slowly extended it toward Charis. “Par Ah-sahn.” 

As his magically charged finger touched her skin, the slight blue aura discharged across her body. It was visible to anyone that had been paying close attention but among the chaos and fear of the plague it was unlikely that anyone really saw what Semeion had done. However, immediately Charis’ skin broke out into small boils about the size of small chicken pox scars. Ischarus and Rhema also pulled back away from Charis out of instinct. 

As he pulled back, Ischarus proclaimed his displeasure. “Ugh! Did you do the smell, too?”

Semeion only responded with a near diabolical smile. The smell reminded Ischarus of rotting flesh mixed with stale blood. Of course, Ischarus knew that the smell was perfect for a leper or a plague victim. In spite of this knowledge his face did not seem highly interested in having to carry that smell halfway across town to the temple. Given his familiarity with Fingerdale and the religious nature of the common person anyway, Ischarus knew that the temples would be located near the center of town in the places of honor and in the locations for the greatest protection should invading armies ever come against the city.

Rhema also commented on the effects of the spell as she pulled back. “Did you seriously have to make it quite so pungent, Semeion?”

Semeion replied. “If you are going to make an illusion that is designed to fool the people you’d best make it believable by all. Master Sathwright taught me that as one of my first arcane lessons.”

Ischarus rolled Charis’ body over so that she was lying on her back and scooped her up in both arms. “If your master could see you now, he’d be proud of this one.”

Semeion’s smile vanished into sorrow. “If…” His voice trailed into nothingness as his mind raced back to the encounter with the green dragon in which his clumsiness had gotten his master killed.

Rhema noticed Semeion’s sudden sadness. As Ischarus rose to his feet with Charis she looked to Semeion and directed his action. “Now stay in the back and make sure that we are not followed. We’ve no idea what is causing this effect in Charis and the last thing we need is a tail. I’ll go to the front and make sure Ischarus has a clear path to the temple.”

Semeion nodded. His mind was still miles away from this city. He had mentally retreated back to the hilltop above the forest. He had not been there for months, and it had been a while since he had even given it a passing thought.

Rhema charged ahead of Ischarus and yelled to the crowd. “We’re carrying a plague victim, people! Move it or plan on visiting a priest. It’s a simple choice!” It was really much more than was necessary to get people to get out of the way, but it effectively moved the people more quickly. Even a few of the cart and carriage drivers worked hard to jerk their horses away from Ischarus’ path as their horses trotted down the central street into the temple district.

Soon Rhema found the temple she was looking for. It was also the temple that Ischarus had first introduced her to. The edifice was huge and completely made of marble on the outside. The entire temple was over one hundred feet wide and well over two hundred and fifty feet long. Columns ran the entire front of the building, each column over five feet in diameter. There were two varieties of columns. The far right and far left columns as well as the central column were carved in order to depict the same figure. The columns were in the shape of a man in full armor holding a long lance and a shield that rose from the ground to his chin. The shield was a perfect rectangle, although it had obviously been rounded to fit the curvature of the column. This image was not engraved into the column; the column had been sculpted to so that the entire column was the image of the warrior. The remaining columns along the front were tributes to what had to be the most powerful creature native to Enigmatica: the dragon. As Ischarus viewed the temple, he noted that each of the dragons he revered for their purity of heart and benevolence were all represented in the columns.

Above the columns, the temple roof rose on a relatively flat pitch. Just below the crest of the roof was a simple seal. The seal depicted the sun watching over all the actions of all the figures represented among the columns. Of course, the sun also watched over all who approached the temple by ascending either of the two central staircases. Each staircase ran between the central column of the man and the column of the dragon immediately beside it.

Rhema charged for the temple, screaming louder as she approached. One woman was exiting the temple as she heard Rhema’s cries. Not wanting to immediately soil her purity having just come from the temple herself, the woman hurriedly descended the stairs – leaping over the last five marble steps to ensure she would be well clear before Rhema got to the steps. Rhema charged up the steps and approached the central door. Once she had reached the door she paused and waited for Ischarus and Semeion. She had enjoyed the rouse of getting people to move out of the way; but she knew that there was no great need to alarm the temple staff themselves. Charis’ apparent condition was simply a rouse. The real cause of her illness was not the plague. It was more likely something much more difficult to diagnose.

Ischarus climbed the steps one at a time. He made it appear as though he was being delicate on the steps in order to avoid tripping. He was unable to see each step do to Charis lying in his arms before him. However, in reality his eyes focused on the dragon column to the left of the central stone column shaped as the warrior. Although the column was to the left to someone viewing the series of columns, it was in truth to the right hand side of the figure depicted in the central column. Ischarus paused as he approached the columns and the top of the steps. He thought about setting Charis down on the steps, but considering that the people on the street thought that she had the plague he quickly considered this a poor idea. Instead he merely bowed slightly to the central human column and bowed a little more deeply to the dragon column that had caught his attention. It certainly was not a direct image of his father dragon, but it clearly was the right type of dragon. The central neck frill and regal stance told Ischarus that it was the same type of beautiful dragon being depicted. Once he had bowed to the columns Ischarus finished ascending the stairs to meet up with Rhema.

Semeion ascended the stairs slowly, continually turning to view the crowd that had easily parted for them to pass. He still couldn’t see anyone directly following their trail. As he passed between the columns without giving them a single notice he realized that their trail would not be difficult to follow in the least. Should someone desire to follow them all they need do is let them get out of sight and ask which temple the plague victim entered. It would not be a difficult trail to follow. Even still, he found nobody who demonstrated much less than a passing curiosity or fear of catching the plague.

At the top of the stairs, Rhema looked to Ischarus and Semeion. “We’ve no clue what we are going to ask of the priests, you know.”

Semeion glanced to the doors and began to think out loud. “Well, we could simply ask for healing.”

“We could, but that might be pointless and a waste of time and resources. I say we enter as is and see what they diagnose on their own.”

Semeion nodded in agreement and Rhema opened the large door to let Ischarus pass. They were immediately greeted at the door by an acolyte who timidly kept his distance. “Forgive me, sirs and madam. My actions seem a bit unwelcoming, but I would prefer to…”

Rhema shrugged and interrupted the acolyte. “Yes, yes. You don’t want what she’s got. Very well, then. Tell us where a healing room is and fetch us a fine priest.”

The acolyte pointed down the hallway. “Third door on your right should be open. I’ll send a healing priest right in.”

Inside the room, Rhema fumbled nervously with her thumbs as she waited for the priest. After a few moments Ischarus had enough and grabbed each of her thumbs with his own hands. “Something is on your mind, Rhema. Tell us. Let us all worry together rather than keeping it to yourself.”

Rhema looked to the floor and then spoke. “Well, what if we were too late in rescuing her from her dragon father? What if she isn’t sick, but rather …”

Semeion rose as if to defend Charis’ honor as she lay unconscious across the table in the center of the room. “No!” he screamed at Rhema, clearly indicating that she had not only caught him off guard but that she had touched a nerve. “That is not an option. Not for Charis. She’s been through enough already and has come so far!”

Ischarus placed a hand upon Semeion’s shoulder. Semeion brushed it off violently and quickly out of his internal eruption of outrage. The gesture was nothing personal against Ischarus; it was an act of rebellion against Rhema’s possibility.

Rhema smiled again. “She may not have had a choice. Think about it, Semeion. How could she have just learned a new magic trick? And her sickness every time she tried to use it – it would make sense if her body was gaining new powers because she was…”

Much to Semeion’s relief the door opened and the noise drowned out the final word of Rhema’s thought. Semeion didn’t want to hear it anyway.

The three sat in silence as the priest entered the room and immediately began a silent inspection of the girl on the table before him. After several long silent moments the priest looked up. “Well, one of you can drop the rouse. She’s not the victim of a plague. I can tell you that much.”

Semeion glared at the priest. His internal fire still burned. “No, really.” Semeion said full of sarcastic venom as he mentally dismissed his spell that was governing Charis’ appearance. Charis returned to normal immediately and the smell vanished from the room. Even the smell lingering in Ischarus’ clothing vanished with the dismissal of the spell. As Charis returned to normal, Semeion continued in his own sarcastic tone. “Tell us something we don’t already know.” His voice betrayed that he had been emotionally wounded recently and was torn between anger and personal injury.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 9, 2006)

“Semeion, settle down.  This man can help her, whatever is wrong with her.  I’m sure that he can find out exactly what the problem is and treat it.”

The healer smiled nervously at having walked into an obviously tense room.  “Or bring in someone who can heal it.  My powers are not limitless, but I do have superiors with powers that exceed my own.”

Semeion did not reply, but continued wearing an expression of nervousness and anger.  His expression wasn’t directed towards anyone in particular.  Instead he stared angrily over the healer’s shoulder at the far wall.

Knowing that Charis was not being afflicted by some kind of plague or skin disease, the healer placed his hands upon Charis’ head.  Her skin had a clammy feel to it.  As his hands moved down her body, he checked for broken bones and places where her internal body temperature might be higher than it should be.  As he finished his check of her from head to toe, he shook his head side to side.  “I know that this sounds rather odd, but she has no sign of infection or disease at all.  I can find nothing wrong with her except to say that she looks as though she either has been beaten lately or she has overexerted herself in work.  Has she been working outside much for as long as she’s had these symptoms?”

Semeion’s face fell instantly when the doctor had declared her free from illness.  He had been counting on the simple answer to be the right one.  The healer’s assertion meant Rhema had a greater chance of being correct.

Ischarus had been standing beside Rhema as the healer performed his diagnosis.  Seeing that Semeion wasn’t prepared to answer, he spoke up instead.  “Well, we did spend much of the morning walking her to Fingerdale but we walked at a casual pace and enjoyed the day.  Beside the walk all that we did was to stop at the wall and admire the magical writing upon the stones.  It was as she read the writing that she became ill – twice.  Could it be the writing?”

The healer lightly bit his lower lip as he thought about Ischarus’ assertion.  He shook his head slowly from side to side as he thought.  “No, I just do not see how that makes any sense at all.  I have read the magical words inscribed upon our wall many times.  Many people every day read those words.  And nobody gets overly sick from reading them.”

Rhema caught Semeion’s eyes and held his glance.  “Semeion, we need to discuss that possibility.  The healer can tell us for sure.”

Semeion almost snarled at Rhema as he gave his answer.  “Fine.  Go ahead say what you are thinking.  I don’t like the thought of it, but there is no sense hiding from the truth if you are correct.”

The healer raised an eyebrow as Semeion spoke and turned to Rhema with great curiosity.  “What is it that you are not telling me, then?  It could be rather important.”

Rhema looked to Semeion once more in deference.  “I know what she means to you, Semeion.  We both do.  Would you like to tell him?”

Semeion shook his head from side to side as his eyes were cast solidly in the direction of the stone floor.  “No, Rhema.  I cannot bring myself to accept it as a possibility now.  I could not bring myself to even utter the words.  I appreciate your desire to let me begin the discussion, but I simply cannot.”

Rhema nodded and softly added, “That’s okay, Semeion.  I understand what you are dealing with and what she means to you.  I can understand your great struggle.”

Rhema turned to Ischarus and nodded in Semeion’s direction as she began to speak to the healer.  Ischarus took the hint and left his position by Rhema’s side and walked to a place that put him slightly bahind Semeion.  Ischarus removed his leather gauntlet and rested his hand upon Semeion’s shoulder.  It was enough to break the tension welling up in Semeion’s body and a single tear began to flow from his left eye and trickled down his nose.

Once Ischarus was in position Rhema began her explanation.  “She is Drakontos, healer.  She is descended from a red dragon, although her ways are since reformed.  There may have been a slight chance that before she could be rescued from her dragon father that she was impregnated by the dragon.  We know that she had been chosen to be the dragon’s Provenience and bring in the next generation of Drakontos for the red dragon.  Only just recently has she learned how to read words written in a magical language.  Before we rescued her she could not even speak in our tongue.  Since coming to us, she has not only learned our language but has developed the ability to read magical scripts upon occasion.  I had begun to think that if she was pregnant with a clutch of human dragon mixed children that one of them might be magically gifted.  Could their magical power be transferred from her children to her while yet unborn?”

The healer’s eyes opened wide at the possibility of such an occurrence.  “I’ll be honest with you and tell you that the question is beyond my expertise.  However, I can cast a simple spell that will tell me if she is carrying young.  If we find out that she is I can get one of my superiors to instruct me further.”

Rhema nodded, and the healer prepared to cast the spell.  Semeion’s right hand shot up to Ischarus’ hand as it continued to grip his shoulder for strength.  Semeion closed his eyes in fervent prayer.  He had been so involved in his magic lately that religion felt strange to him.  Ischarus joined him in a prayer, although Ischarus’ prayer came much more easily to him than did Semeion’s.

When the healer was ready he cast the spell.  “Hara-Canal-Vass.”

It was a simple incantation, and Charis developed a light blue aura surrounding her entire body.  A similar yellow aura wrapped itself around the healer.  Although both auras were hardly perceivable once they had developed around each individual, Rhema could have sworn that she saw a faint thread attach itself between the auras almost like an umbilical chord.

The healer smiled as his eyes searched up and down her body.  “I have good news, or at least news that I think most people would think is good in this situation.  Your friend suffers from no illness.  She has no disease.  In fact, she has merely been incapacitated by some unseen force.  And I sense no other presences within her body.  I can most assuredly tell you that she is not pregnant.  In fact, I can even tell you that she never has been pregnant in the past.  She appears to have been simply knocked unconscious by an outside force.  That is quite honestly all that has happened to her.”

Semeion’s eyes flashed open and his body gave an immediate exhalation of thankfulness.  He couldn’t contain the excitement as his body purged the fear that had been trapped inside.  As his body purged the fear he suddenly became much more able to speak.  “And the nausea that she felt earlier before being incapacitated?”

The healer simply replied, “I am detecting a faint magical aura about her, but the magic has clearly already passed from her body.”

The party exchanged confused looks between them.  Semeion had cast an earlier spell upon her, but the healer knew of that spell.  As far as they could tell there had been no other spell.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
“Semeion, settle down. This man can help her, whatever is wrong with her. I’m sure that he can find out exactly what the problem is and treat it.”

The healer smiled nervously at having walked into an obviously tense room. “Or bring in someone who can heal it. My powers are not limitless, but I do have superiors with powers that exceed my own.”

Semeion did not reply, but continued wearing an expression of nervousness and anger. His expression wasn’t directed towards anyone in particular. Instead he stared angrily over the healer’s shoulder at the far wall.

Knowing that Charis was not being afflicted by some kind of plague or skin disease, the healer placed his hands upon Charis’ head. Her skin had a clammy feel to it. As his hands moved down her body, he checked for broken bones and places where her internal body temperature might be higher than it should be. As he finished his check of her from head to toe, he shook his head side to side. “I know that this sounds rather odd, but she has no sign of infection or disease at all. I can find nothing wrong with her except to say that she looks as though she either has been beaten lately or she has overexerted herself in work. Has she been working outside much for as long as she’s had these symptoms?”

Semeion’s face fell instantly when the doctor had declared her free from illness. He had been counting on the simple answer to be the right one. The healer’s assertion meant Rhema had a greater chance of being correct.

Ischarus had been standing beside Rhema as the healer performed his diagnosis. Seeing that Semeion wasn’t prepared to answer, he spoke up instead. “Well, we did spend much of the morning walking her to Fingerdale but we walked at a casual pace and enjoyed the day. Beside the walk all that we did was to stop at the wall and admire the magical writing upon the stones. It was as she read the writing that she became ill – twice. Could it be the writing?”

The healer lightly bit his lower lip as he thought about Ischarus’ assertion. He shook his head slowly from side to side as he thought. “No, I just do not see how that makes any sense at all. I have read the magical words inscribed upon our wall many times. Many people every day read those words. And nobody gets overly sick from reading them.”

Rhema caught Semeion’s eyes and held his glance. “Semeion, we need to discuss that possibility. The healer can tell us for sure.”

Semeion almost snarled at Rhema as he gave his answer. “Fine. Go ahead say what you are thinking. I don’t like the thought of it, but there is no sense hiding from the truth if you are correct.”

The healer raised an eyebrow as Semeion spoke and turned to Rhema with great curiosity. “What is it that you are not telling me, then? It could be rather important.”

Rhema looked to Semeion once more in deference. “I know what she means to you, Semeion. We both do. Would you like to tell him?”

Semeion shook his head from side to side as his eyes were cast solidly in the direction of the stone floor. “No, Rhema. I cannot bring myself to accept it as a possibility now. I could not bring myself to even utter the words. I appreciate your desire to let me begin the discussion, but I simply cannot.”

Rhema nodded and softly added, “That’s okay, Semeion. I understand what you are dealing with and what she means to you. I can understand your great struggle.”

Rhema turned to Ischarus and nodded in Semeion’s direction as she began to speak to the healer. Ischarus took the hint and left his position by Rhema’s side and walked to a place that put him slightly bahind Semeion. Ischarus removed his leather gauntlet and rested his hand upon Semeion’s shoulder. It was enough to break the tension welling up in Semeion’s body and a single tear began to flow from his left eye and trickled down his nose.

Once Ischarus was in position Rhema began her explanation. “She is Drakontos, healer. She is descended from a red dragon, although her ways are since reformed. There may have been a slight chance that before she could be rescued from her dragon father that she was impregnated by the dragon. We know that she had been chosen to be the dragon’s Provenience and bring in the next generation of Drakontos for the red dragon. Only just recently has she learned how to read words written in a magical language. Before we rescued her she could not even speak in our tongue. Since coming to us, she has not only learned our language but has developed the ability to read magical scripts upon occasion. I had begun to think that if she was pregnant with a clutch of human dragon mixed children that one of them might be magically gifted. Could their magical power be transferred from her children to her while yet unborn?”

The healer’s eyes opened wide at the possibility of such an occurrence. “I’ll be honest with you and tell you that the question is beyond my expertise. However, I can cast a simple spell that will tell me if she is carrying young. If we find out that she is I can get one of my superiors to instruct me further.”

Rhema nodded, and the healer prepared to cast the spell. Semeion’s right hand shot up to Ischarus’ hand as it continued to grip his shoulder for strength. Semeion closed his eyes in fervent prayer. He had been so involved in his magic lately that religion felt strange to him. Ischarus joined him in a prayer, although Ischarus’ prayer came much more easily to him than did Semeion’s.

When the healer was ready he cast the spell. “Hara-Canal-Vass.”

It was a simple incantation, and Charis developed a light blue aura surrounding her entire body. A similar yellow aura wrapped itself around the healer. Although both auras were hardly perceivable once they had developed around each individual, Rhema could have sworn that she saw a faint thread attach itself between the auras almost like an umbilical chord.

The healer smiled as his eyes searched up and down her body. “I have good news, or at least news that I think most people would think is good in this situation. Your friend suffers from no illness. She has no disease. In fact, she has merely been incapacitated by some unseen force. And I sense no other presences within her body. I can most assuredly tell you that she is not pregnant. In fact, I can even tell you that she never has been pregnant in the past. She appears to have been simply knocked unconscious by an outside force. That is quite honestly all that has happened to her.”

Semeion’s eyes flashed open and his body gave an immediate exhalation of thankfulness. He couldn’t contain the excitement as his body purged the fear that had been trapped inside. As his body purged the fear he suddenly became much more able to speak. “And the nausea that she felt earlier before being incapacitated?”

The healer simply replied, “I am detecting a faint magical aura about her, but the magic has clearly already passed from her body.”

The party exchanged confused looks between them. Semeion had cast an earlier spell upon her, but the healer knew of that spell. As far as they could tell there had been no other spell.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 10, 2006)

Semeion looked startled. “A faint magical aura?  And it is fading?”

The healer looked to Semeion as the spell he used to ascertain Charis’ possibility of conception faded from between him and Charis.  “Yes, sir.  I saw a faint magical aura and it was nearly gone – barely noticeable.”

Semeion looked even more puzzled as he pondered the healer’s assertion.  “Have you any idea if the magic came from a divine source or an arcane source?  Because her healing powers come from her worship – much like your own.”

The healer shook his head from side to side in a negative response.  “I’ve no way of knowing, sir.  The magic was barely noticeable as it was.  To think of getting an image of what kind of magic would be nearly impossible.”

Rhema interjected, hoping to break Semeion’s seemingly endless loop of confusion regarding the magical source.  “Can you guarantee us that there is nothing wrong with her should she find rest from her attack?  There is nothing seriously wrong with her that would cause her condition to diminish?”

The healer nodded towards Rhema.  “I can assure you, ma’am.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with her.  There is no reason that she should be spontaneously wounding herself and passing out.  The cause certainly is external because internally she has no sign of infection and her aura is now completely normal with passing of the magical effect.”

Ischarus pulled out a small pouch and flipped a few gold coins onto the table beside Charis’ head.  “This temple is dedicated to the god that I worship.  I would be remiss in entering here and not leaving a piece of myself behind for the continuation of your influence in Fingerdale and the surrounding regions.  Would this donation go far in furthering your cause in exchange for her healing?”

The healer smiled politely and ignored the gold.  “Sir, you need not pay for the services.  I can heal her and the personal codes of our shared deity mandate that I do so.  You may keep your gold.  Our goal is not merchandizing our divinely given talents.  I cannot buy my gifts from the heavens and I should not be expected to charge you for giving to you what I have freely received from above.”

Ischarus smiled broadly at the healer.  “I understand your position.  Since you answered sincerely and with virtue, then let me add on to my donation above what would be expected for the service.  In this way you will know that I donate not in exchange for your services but rather because we do serve a mighty god who is worthy of bringing influence to the surrounding areas.”

The healer bowed low and added, “Your donation will not be refused, my lord.  She will be healed as I speak.  Bondras-tol Shintar”

Charis blinked as the light from the room poured into her newly opened eyes.  “Wha … Where am I?”

Rhema stood beside her quickly and grabbed her hand.  “You fainted when you read the magic, Charis.  You are with friends, in a temple.  The healer is here with you.”

Charis obviously didn’t remember hitting the ground hard as they entered Fingerdale.  “I … fainted?”

Semeion rushed to her other side as she spoke again.  He grabbed Charis’ other hand.  “Yes, Charis.  You fainted right under the gates.  Ischarus was thankfully able to convince everyone that you had a horrible plague so that they not only didn’t ask questions but also got out of our way as we rushed you to the temple.  They say that you are fine, now.  And they say that whatever is affecting you is coming from outside of you.”

The healer interjected before Charis could ask another question.  “Charis, my name is Barrachius.  I am the healer that has been assigned to you.  I understand that you have been struggling with a new ability to read magic?  I also understand that it is the times when you read magical writing that bring these spells upon you.”

Charis replied with a great deal of confusion in her voice.  It was quite obvious that she had not yet regained her clarity of thought.  “Yeah.  I guess that’s true.  They’d know better than me, I suppose.” 

The healer replied, “I’d like to run a simple test on you if you don’t mind.”

Charis smiled.  Her hesitation showed through her expression.  “Uh, sure, I suppose that would be alright.  Do I have to do anything and will it hurt?”

The healer smiled as Charis looked into his eyes and he replied in honesty.  “I’ll only ask you to read something.  And if I am correct, it shouldn’t hurt at all.”

Charis nodded in agreement.  The healer extended his left arm out over Charis so that his long and loose fitting sleeve hung down from his arm and rested across her abdomen.  With a mischievous smile upon his face he spoke a few simple arcane words.  “Thizzle-pendrath”

The healer’s right index finger began to instantly glow with a lime green light, allowing him to touch his sleeve and leave a magical mark.  When he was done, he looked to Charis and continued to speak through his mischievous smile.  “Can you read this, Charis?”

Charis shook her head, unable to read the magical writing now inscribed and glowing upon the sleeve.  She and everyone else in the room could see plain as day that there was writing upon the sleeve of the healer, but it was impossible to decipher.

The healer continued his experiment by addressing Charis’ abilities.  “Now, if you would be so kind as to activate your ability as you did earlier so that you could read the magic words inscribed upon the wall of our fair city.”

Charis paused for a split second and looked to Semeion as if unsure of what to do.  Semeion smiled and encouraged her to activate this new ability.  Without the fear inside about where this ability was coming from he was much more confident.  “Go ahead, Charis.  We’ll be right here to support you.  If anything happens to you, we have a healer here that will be able to rescue you.”

Semeion squeezed her hand slightly and Charis returned the squeeze with a significantly stronger grip inspired by fear of the unknown.  In her mind she recalled the same principles that she had leaned upon when had read the magic wall earlier in the day.  Her lips mouthed the same words as she had spoken earlier in the day.  “Thizzle-sooth.” 

The words could barely be heard above her own breath.  Suddenly, Charis saw the lime green writing shift and move so that it made sense to her own eyes.  The magical writing shifted so that it matched the language of her people.  She read what the message on the healer’s arm said.  “Cured!”

It took a moment for it all to sink in.  Barracchius smiled and lightly laughed at Charis as she relayed the simple message.  “And how do you feel?”

Charis paused for a moment and her eyes darted wildly back and forth as she ran through a quick mental check of how her body felt at this moment.  “I feel … normal.”

Barrachius’ face exposed a large grin as the healer looked down upon his patient.  “It is as I said earlier, then.  It is as I expected.  Her illness is not inside; it is coming from somewhere on the outside.  Something or someone is affecting her without being noticed.  When she is removed from the adverse effect her ability to read the magical writing works perfectly.  If this is true then the key to curing this girl is not in finding a cure for the inside but rather finding the source of the conflict outside.  Find the conflict, and you’ll know how to cure her.”

Semeion and Rhema graciously thanked the healer several times as they readied Charis to leave the temple.  She clung to Ischarus the first few steps since Ischarus was by far the strongest member of the adventuring party.  However, before she had taken too many steps Charis was walking with confidence.  She released Ischarus’ arm as they left the healing room and approached the door to the outside stairway and pillars of the temple.

As the door opened, Charis squinted in the face of the bright light.  Her eyes had grown accustomed to the filtered light of the temple, but the full sun caused her to lift up her hand to her eyes and shade them as she squinted.  As she found herself slowly getting used to the bright light once more she also found herself staring into the people on the street.  This view from the temple’s steps was all new ground since when she had entered this temple she was unconscious.  As she scanned the crowd, she stopped suddenly on a face staring back at her from across the street.

Charis muttered quietly, more to herself than anyone else.  “I know that face.”

Semeion questioned Charis’ expression since he was unable to hear the mutterings of Charis.  “What?”

Charis reasserted her position more firmly.  “I know that man.” Charis’ hand raised to point out the face that she had recognized to Semeion and the others.  As her hand rose, the man at whom she pointed broke into a run down the street towards the gate where Charis had originally fallen.

Rhema had been following Semeion’s and Charis’ conversation and as she followed Charis’ point out across the street she too saw the man break into a run away from the party.  She quickly started into a run and yelled to the others behind her.  “Semeion, stay with Charis and protect her!  Ischarus, follow me!”

Ischarus had missed the conversation but knew enough to follow Rhema when she beckoned.  It wasn’t hard to follow her line of sight to the man fleeing from their direction.  Rhema was able to handle herself; but if nothing else Ischarus would enjoy the show.  He grinned as he descended the steps in pursuit.

As they descended the steps of the altar and onto the street, Semeion heard Charis utter a single name.  “Grick.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Semeion looked startled. “A faint magical aura? And it is fading?”

The healer looked to Semeion as the spell he used to ascertain Charis’ possibility of conception faded from between him and Charis. “Yes, sir. I saw a faint magical aura and it was nearly gone – barely noticeable.”

Semeion looked even more puzzled as he pondered the healer’s assertion. “Have you any idea if the magic came from a divine source or an arcane source? Because her healing powers come from her worship – much like your own.”

The healer shook his head from side to side in a negative response. “I’ve no way of knowing, sir. The magic was barely noticeable as it was. To think of getting an image of what kind of magic would be nearly impossible.”

Rhema interjected, hoping to break Semeion’s seemingly endless loop of confusion regarding the magical source. “Can you guarantee us that there is nothing wrong with her should she find rest from her attack? There is nothing seriously wrong with her that would cause her condition to diminish?”

The healer nodded towards Rhema. “I can assure you, ma’am. There is absolutely nothing wrong with her. There is no reason that she should be spontaneously wounding herself and passing out. The cause certainly is external because internally she has no sign of infection and her aura is now completely normal with passing of the magical effect.”

Ischarus pulled out a small pouch and flipped a few gold coins onto the table beside Charis’ head. “This temple is dedicated to the god that I worship. I would be remiss in entering here and not leaving a piece of myself behind for the continuation of your influence in Fingerdale and the surrounding regions. Would this donation go far in furthering your cause in exchange for her healing?”

The healer smiled politely and ignored the gold. “Sir, you need not pay for the services. I can heal her and the personal codes of our shared deity mandate that I do so. You may keep your gold. Our goal is not merchandizing our divinely given talents. I cannot buy my gifts from the heavens and I should not be expected to charge you for giving to you what I have freely received from above.”

Ischarus smiled broadly at the healer. “I understand your position. Since you answered sincerely and with virtue, then let me add on to my donation above what would be expected for the service. In this way you will know that I donate not in exchange for your services but rather because we do serve a mighty god who is worthy of bringing influence to the surrounding areas.”

The healer bowed low and added, “Your donation will not be refused, my lord. She will be healed as I speak. Bondras-tol Shintar”

Charis blinked as the light from the room poured into her newly opened eyes. “Wha … Where am I?”

Rhema stood beside her quickly and grabbed her hand. “You fainted when you read the magic, Charis. You are with friends, in a temple. The healer is here with you.”

Charis obviously didn’t remember hitting the ground hard as they entered Fingerdale. “I … fainted?”

Semeion rushed to her other side as she spoke again. He grabbed Charis’ other hand. “Yes, Charis. You fainted right under the gates. Ischarus was thankfully able to convince everyone that you had a horrible plague so that they not only didn’t ask questions but also got out of our way as we rushed you to the temple. They say that you are fine, now. And they say that whatever is affecting you is coming from outside of you.”

The healer interjected before Charis could ask another question. “Charis, my name is Barrachius. I am the healer that has been assigned to you. I understand that you have been struggling with a new ability to read magic? I also understand that it is the times when you read magical writing that bring these spells upon you.”

Charis replied with a great deal of confusion in her voice. It was quite obvious that she had not yet regained her clarity of thought. “Yeah. I guess that’s true. They’d know better than me, I suppose.” 

The healer replied, “I’d like to run a simple test on you if you don’t mind.”

Charis smiled. Her hesitation showed through her expression. “Uh, sure, I suppose that would be alright. Do I have to do anything and will it hurt?”

The healer smiled as Charis looked into his eyes and he replied in honesty. “I’ll only ask you to read something. And if I am correct, it shouldn’t hurt at all.”

Charis nodded in agreement. The healer extended his left arm out over Charis so that his long and loose fitting sleeve hung down from his arm and rested across her abdomen. With a mischievous smile upon his face he spoke a few simple arcane words. “Thizzle-pendrath”

The healer’s right index finger began to instantly glow with a lime green light, allowing him to touch his sleeve and leave a magical mark. When he was done, he looked to Charis and continued to speak through his mischievous smile. “Can you read this, Charis?”

Charis shook her head, unable to read the magical writing now inscribed and glowing upon the sleeve. She and everyone else in the room could see plain as day that there was writing upon the sleeve of the healer, but it was impossible to decipher.

The healer continued his experiment by addressing Charis’ abilities. “Now, if you would be so kind as to activate your ability as you did earlier so that you could read the magic words inscribed upon the wall of our fair city.”

Charis paused for a split second and looked to Semeion as if unsure of what to do. Semeion smiled and encouraged her to activate this new ability. Without the fear inside about where this ability was coming from he was much more confident. “Go ahead, Charis. We’ll be right here to support you. If anything happens to you, we have a healer here that will be able to rescue you.”

Semeion squeezed her hand slightly and Charis returned the squeeze with a significantly stronger grip inspired by fear of the unknown. In her mind she recalled the same principles that she had leaned upon when had read the magic wall earlier in the day. Her lips mouthed the same words as she had spoken earlier in the day. “Thizzle-sooth.” 

The words could barely be heard above her own breath. Suddenly, Charis saw the lime green writing shift and move so that it made sense to her own eyes. The magical writing shifted so that it matched the language of her people. She read what the message on the healer’s arm said. “Cured!”

It took a moment for it all to sink in. Barracchius smiled and lightly laughed at Charis as she relayed the simple message. “And how do you feel?”

Charis paused for a moment and her eyes darted wildly back and forth as she ran through a quick mental check of how her body felt at this moment. “I feel … normal.”

Barrachius’ face exposed a large grin as the healer looked down upon his patient. “It is as I said earlier, then. It is as I expected. Her illness is not inside; it is coming from somewhere on the outside. Something or someone is affecting her without being noticed. When she is removed from the adverse effect her ability to read the magical writing works perfectly. If this is true then the key to curing this girl is not in finding a cure for the inside but rather finding the source of the conflict outside. Find the conflict, and you’ll know how to cure her.”

Semeion and Rhema graciously thanked the healer several times as they readied Charis to leave the temple. She clung to Ischarus the first few steps since Ischarus was by far the strongest member of the adventuring party. However, before she had taken too many steps Charis was walking with confidence. She released Ischarus’ arm as they left the healing room and approached the door to the outside stairway and pillars of the temple.

As the door opened, Charis squinted in the face of the bright light. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the filtered light of the temple, but the full sun caused her to lift up her hand to her eyes and shade them as she squinted. As she found herself slowly getting used to the bright light once more she also found herself staring into the people on the street. This view from the temple’s steps was all new ground since when she had entered this temple she was unconscious. As she scanned the crowd, she stopped suddenly on a face staring back at her from across the street.

Charis muttered quietly, more to herself than anyone else. “I know that face.”

Semeion questioned Charis’ expression since he was unable to hear the mutterings of Charis. “What?”

Charis reasserted her position more firmly. “I know that man.” Charis’ hand raised to point out the face that she had recognized to Semeion and the others. As her hand rose, the man at whom she pointed broke into a run down the street towards the gate where Charis had originally fallen.

Rhema had been following Semeion’s and Charis’ conversation and as she followed Charis’ point out across the street she too saw the man break into a run away from the party. She quickly started into a run and yelled to the others behind her. “Semeion, stay with Charis and protect her! Ischarus, follow me!”

Ischarus had missed the conversation but knew enough to follow Rhema when she beckoned. It wasn’t hard to follow her line of sight to the man fleeing from their direction. Rhema was able to handle herself; but if nothing else Ischarus would enjoy the show. He grinned as he descended the steps in pursuit.

As they descended the steps of the altar and onto the street, Semeion heard Charis utter a single name. “Grick.”[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 11, 2006)

As Grick turned and ran towards the direction that they had come, his cloak began to flap in the breeze.  When Charis spotted him he had the hood of his traveling cloak pulled up so that he could barely see out of it.  Yet as he ran away from the party this hood flew backwards in the wind.  Grick’s long, flaming red hair fluttered in the wind since it was no longer kept bound by the constraints of the hood.  

At the sight of his hair, Ischarus swallowed hard.  He had already passed Rhema since descending the stairs but she was not far from behind.  As he stared at the flaming red hair he heard Rhema shout.  “Look at that hair!  It’ll make him easy to follow!”

Ischarus muttered to himself at her comment.  His muttering wasn’t enough not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but it focused his mind on the task at hand.  “With that hair, I don’t think trailing him back to his home is going to be difficult if it comes to that.”

He looked back over his shoulder ever so slightly to see how far Rhema was behind him.  She was only a mutter of a few paces, so he didn’t need to yell terribly loudly.  “If my suspicions are correct, Rhema, if we don’t catch him now we’ll be following him back to Quehalost.  I think that he’s Drakontos.  It’s likely that he’s related to Charis.”

Ischarus’ words took a few seconds to sink in.  Their latest trip had been months ago and the recent retraining program had made the details of that trip seemingly fade into the past.  As Rhema pondered Ischarus’ words she suddenly realized how it was that Charis could recognize him.  “Ischarus, we had best catch him and deal with him.  If Charis knew him from sight, it could only mean one thing.”

Ischarus twisted around a pair of women who had unknowingly stepped into his path as he pursued their quarry.  The red haired Grick was fairly well balanced on his feet.  His dexterity combined with the fact that his hair made him hard to miss made it easy for people to get out of the way of the running man before he could reach them.  As they heard Ischarus and Rhema yelling to each other and obviously giving pursuit for the most part the people remained parted to allow them to pass.  It was only every once and a while that a person accidentally stepped in front of Rhema or Ischarus as the townsfolk falsely assumed the threat had passed them by.

Ischarus could tell that the chase was leading back upon the exact route that they had taken to come into the town of Fingerdale.  The guard tower would likely be up ahead and if they took their job seriously they would try to stop Grick.  Ischarus’ face wrinkled in determination to try and not let the guards get in the way.  There was no telling how powerful this Grick was and there was no need to allow any unnecessary injury to people just doing their job.  Yet as fast as Ischarus and Rhema raced after Grick, their prey kept ahead of them.

Grick lunged around the final corner before the city gate and the tower above.  The red haired man charged down the streets, noting that the city guards had already picked him up from atop their tower.  There were two guards looking in his direction, and one of the guards pointed and moved for the stairs.  Grick smiled an evil smile and slowed down just a touch to take aim.  He rubbed his fingers together as if they were twigs that he was trying to kindle a flame upon.  Faster and faster he rubbed until he smiled once more and cradled what appeared to be an invisible ball.  As he slowed to a jog to take aim, he tossed the invisible ball toward the guard that had started to move for the stairs.

A second later, the guard jerked away from Grick as if he had been hit with a crossbow bolt.  As he spun, he fell to his knees and began the process of dry-heaving.  Ischarus saw the whole scene from behind and accelerated once more as Grick slowed up.

Rhema saw the motion of the guard and yelled, “He’s the one!  He’s the reason Charis was ill!”

Grick had one flaw in his plan.  As he slowed down to aim for the guard, he misjudged his speed and the speed of his pursuers.  Ischarus drew within five feet of Grick and leapt for his back.  The thick bodies collided, but not quite as Ischarus would have hoped.  Ischarus’ left shoulder collided just to the right of Grick’s tailbone.  Grick was knocked sideways to the left and stumbled to his backside.  The red-haired Drakontos easily recovered his feet before a threat was upon him.  

As Grick was knocked to the left, Ischarus was pushed slightly to the right.  He landed flat on the ground on his stomach; but like Grick he easily managed to scramble to his feet and have his sword out of its scabbard in a flash.  He didn’t have his shield with him; but considering Grick could hit with his invisible attack from over 50 yards away Ischarus wasn’t sure the shield would have helped anyway.

As Rhema closed, she saw that Ischarus would be able to make contact and slow Grick down.  As she matched the reduced speed of the others and decided to stay back and not engage in the ensuing melee, her right hand found the familiar clasp that snapped the leather strap securely over the handle of her dagger.  Without even looking at the dagger her fingers unsnapped the clasp and the dagger was in her hand.  She lifted the handle up to her temple and scanned the area for what she was looking for.  Suddenly, her lips parted in a grin and she focused her eyes.

Fifteen feet behind Grick an onlooker had a pipe set in his mouth.  He wasn’t actively smoking it on account of being distracted by the commotion.  Rhema could still tell from the smoke that a small fire burned inside.  As she mentally focused on the small flame inside, her eyes darted toward Grick.  Several small pieces of burning tobacco leapt out of the man’s pipe.  The man was so startled by the odd occurrence that as his lips parted in a gasp the pipe fell from his mouth and clattered to a rest on the street.

However, the tobacco pieces flew just above the heads of the crowd and towards Grick.  Only a last minute change of position to counter Ischarus’ approach caused the small figments of fire to miss their intended target.  The small pieces of flame went unnoticed by Ischarus, Grick, and all the onlookers except the man from whose pipe the pieces of flame came.  Rhema smiled as she noted that her attack had been foiled.  She also knew that she still controlled the fire and there would be other chances.

Ischarus gripped the sword tightly and spoke with confidence.  “Surrender now, and I’m sure the city guard will treat you with respect.”  Ischarus looked deeply into Grick’s eyes with the stern seriousness of a man who wanted revenge for harming Charis.  Grick only smiled at the threat but quickly scowled as Ischarus’ sword arced through the air and caught him across the forearm.

Grick returned Ischarus’ attack with a verbal retort.  “Your threats are meaningless against me, the one that I serve, and my dragon father.”

Grick’s assertion was all that Ischarus needed to hear.  “Your father?  You mean the one whose plans we interrupted by taking his bride whom he intended to only use for evil?”

Grick screamed in anger in his draconic tongue.  “Die!” As he yelled, he stepped back a single step and began rubbing his fingers vigorously together once more.  He quickly cradled another invisible ball and tossed it hard toward the direction of Ischarus.

Luckily for Ischarus, Grick’s aim was off.  The invisible ball sailed just over Ischarus’ left shoulder.  Of course Ischarus didn’t flinch because there was nothing to see coming at him.  A small cloud of dust erupted from the corner of a brick in the outer wall of the building behind him.  The invisible attack had narrowly missed hitting him.  With the demonstration of the invisible power that could be thrown and the damage the force had when it struck against the house, many of the onlookers decided to take a step back and give the combatants a little more room.

A shout rang out above the crowd from the guard tower.  “Halt!  You will abandon your conflict in the name of Lord Ironblood!”  The guard had been concerned about the presence of a man running toward the gates.  With the signs of armed combat there was a greater need for urgency.

Ischarus and Grick both smiled at the announcement.  There was little a town guard would do against this conflict in the middle of a crowd of onlookers until reinforcements came.  By the time help could arrive this conflict would be decided.

Rhema found an opening in Grick’s defenses as the voice of the guard distracted him.  The tobacco coals flew in a high arc into the air and rested deep within the hood of Grick’s cloak.  Rhema smiled as her successful attack pleased her.  She continued concentrating upon the flames as she muttered to nobody in particular.  “It won’t be long now…”

Unexpectedly an overweight woman who likely hadn’t bathed in nearly a month replied to her.   “You’re right, missy.  Either they’ll finish this up real quick or the city guard will come.  Either way, it won’t be long.”  Rhema could only grin as the woman misunderstood her comment.

Ischarus stepped forward and slashed out once more with his blade, but Grick had drawn his mace in his off hand and parried the blow with ease.  Ischarus’ sword bounced off the unexpected weapon in an odd arc, leaving room for Grick to retaliate.  Once again Grick stepped back and the crowd parted to give him room.  His fingers rubbed together once more and he had another invisible ball.  This time, Ischarus and the crowd behind Ischarus knew what to expect. Grick’s aim would show no improvement, however.  The blast struck another wall.  The invisible ball of force nearly struck the top of an onlooker’s head.

Rhema could feel the power of the flame welling up inside of her.  She knew it was time.  Much to the surprise of the entire gathered crowd, the hood of Grick’s cloak smoked for a second and then burst into flame.  Grick was caught completely off-guard by this attack and he turned around quickly at the sound of the sudden explosion of flame.  As he turned, the motion only caused a rush of oxygen to enter into the hood of his cape and the flames grew in an even greater intensity.  Grick screamed as his flaming red hair caught on fire and the smell of melting hair engulfed the crowd.

Knowing that there was now an unknown threat that he was unprepared to face, Grick smartly did the one remaining thing that he could.  With his free hand he flung up the hood of his cloak, enduring the intense moment of pain that brought the fire closest to his head.  In a second, however, the flames were deprived of the oxygen they needed and were extinguished.  He turned his back to Ischarus and prepared to jump into the crowd.  

As he spun, he gave Ischarus an interesting target.  The fluttering of Grick’s cape made it impossible to target his body.  Rather than swing blindly Ischarus re-gripped his sword so that the blade came down from his enclosed fist rather than up from the fist.  He raised the sword high into the air and in an instant the sword drove towards the ground.  The blade of the sword brought the edge of Grick’s cape to the ground with it.  Once the blade struck the cobblestone streets, the blade smoothly found a gap between two stones and tore through the cape.  In a single strike Ischarus had secured Grick’s cape to the road.

When Grick tried to leap into the crowd a slight tearing sound ripped through the crowd.  The power of his jump was not enough to completely rip his cape.  His shoulders reached the end of the cape and his feet launched out before him from the torque introduced by the pinned cape.  Grick ended up prone on his back.

Rhema shouted towards Ischarus as she forced her way through the crowd.  “Ischarus, no!” 

When she arrived she found that Ischarus had left the sword stuck in the ground.  Rather than driving another of his weapons into the prone Grick Ischarus had decided to strike his enemy with his leather gauntleted hand.  Grick was lying unconscious upon the ground, smoldering smoke still nauseatingly rising from his hair.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
As Grick turned and ran towards the direction that they had come, his cloak began to flap in the breeze. When Charis spotted him he had the hood of his traveling cloak pulled up so that he could barely see out of it. Yet as he ran away from the party this hood flew backwards in the wind. Grick’s long, flaming red hair fluttered in the wind since it was no longer kept bound by the constraints of the hood. 

At the sight of his hair, Ischarus swallowed hard. He had already passed Rhema since descending the stairs but she was not far from behind. As he stared at the flaming red hair he heard Rhema shout. “Look at that hair! It’ll make him easy to follow!”

Ischarus muttered to himself at her comment. His muttering wasn’t enough not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but it focused his mind on the task at hand. “With that hair, I don’t think trailing him back to his home is going to be difficult if it comes to that.”

He looked back over his shoulder ever so slightly to see how far Rhema was behind him. She was only a mutter of a few paces, so he didn’t need to yell terribly loudly. “If my suspicions are correct, Rhema, if we don’t catch him now we’ll be following him back to Quehalost. I think that he’s Drakontos. It’s likely that he’s related to Charis.”

Ischarus’ words took a few seconds to sink in. Their latest trip had been months ago and the recent retraining program had made the details of that trip seemingly fade into the past. As Rhema pondered Ischarus’ words she suddenly realized how it was that Charis could recognize him. “Ischarus, we had best catch him and deal with him. If Charis knew him from sight, it could only mean one thing.”

Ischarus twisted around a pair of women who had unknowingly stepped into his path as he pursued their quarry. The red haired Grick was fairly well balanced on his feet. His dexterity combined with the fact that his hair made him hard to miss made it easy for people to get out of the way of the running man before he could reach them. As they heard Ischarus and Rhema yelling to each other and obviously giving pursuit for the most part the people remained parted to allow them to pass. It was only every once and a while that a person accidentally stepped in front of Rhema or Ischarus as the townsfolk falsely assumed the threat had passed them by.

Ischarus could tell that the chase was leading back upon the exact route that they had taken to come into the town of Fingerdale. The guard tower would likely be up ahead and if they took their job seriously they would try to stop Grick. Ischarus’ face wrinkled in determination to try and not let the guards get in the way. There was no telling how powerful this Grick was and there was no need to allow any unnecessary injury to people just doing their job. Yet as fast as Ischarus and Rhema raced after Grick, their prey kept ahead of them.

Grick lunged around the final corner before the city gate and the tower above. The red haired man charged down the streets, noting that the city guards had already picked him up from atop their tower. There were two guards looking in his direction, and one of the guards pointed and moved for the stairs. Grick smiled an evil smile and slowed down just a touch to take aim. He rubbed his fingers together as if they were twigs that he was trying to kindle a flame upon. Faster and faster he rubbed until he smiled once more and cradled what appeared to be an invisible ball. As he slowed to a jog to take aim, he tossed the invisible ball toward the guard that had started to move for the stairs.

A second later, the guard jerked away from Grick as if he had been hit with a crossbow bolt. As he spun, he fell to his knees and began the process of dry-heaving. Ischarus saw the whole scene from behind and accelerated once more as Grick slowed up.

Rhema saw the motion of the guard and yelled, “He’s the one! He’s the reason Charis was ill!”

Grick had one flaw in his plan. As he slowed down to aim for the guard, he misjudged his speed and the speed of his pursuers. Ischarus drew within five feet of Grick and leapt for his back. The thick bodies collided, but not quite as Ischarus would have hoped. Ischarus’ left shoulder collided just to the right of Grick’s tailbone. Grick was knocked sideways to the left and stumbled to his backside. The red-haired Drakontos easily recovered his feet before a threat was upon him. 

As Grick was knocked to the left, Ischarus was pushed slightly to the right. He landed flat on the ground on his stomach; but like Grick he easily managed to scramble to his feet and have his sword out of its scabbard in a flash. He didn’t have his shield with him; but considering Grick could hit with his invisible attack from over 50 yards away Ischarus wasn’t sure the shield would have helped anyway.

As Rhema closed, she saw that Ischarus would be able to make contact and slow Grick down. As she matched the reduced speed of the others and decided to stay back and not engage in the ensuing melee, her right hand found the familiar clasp that snapped the leather strap securely over the handle of her dagger. Without even looking at the dagger her fingers unsnapped the clasp and the dagger was in her hand. She lifted the handle up to her temple and scanned the area for what she was looking for. Suddenly, her lips parted in a grin and she focused her eyes.

Fifteen feet behind Grick an onlooker had a pipe set in his mouth. He wasn’t actively smoking it on account of being distracted by the commotion. Rhema could still tell from the smoke that a small fire burned inside. As she mentally focused on the small flame inside, her eyes darted toward Grick. Several small pieces of burning tobacco leapt out of the man’s pipe. The man was so startled by the odd occurrence that as his lips parted in a gasp the pipe fell from his mouth and clattered to a rest on the street.

However, the tobacco pieces flew just above the heads of the crowd and towards Grick. Only a last minute change of position to counter Ischarus’ approach caused the small figments of fire to miss their intended target. The small pieces of flame went unnoticed by Ischarus, Grick, and all the onlookers except the man from whose pipe the pieces of flame came. Rhema smiled as she noted that her attack had been foiled. She also knew that she still controlled the fire and there would be other chances.

Ischarus gripped the sword tightly and spoke with confidence. “Surrender now, and I’m sure the city guard will treat you with respect.” Ischarus looked deeply into Grick’s eyes with the stern seriousness of a man who wanted revenge for harming Charis. Grick only smiled at the threat but quickly scowled as Ischarus’ sword arced through the air and caught him across the forearm.

Grick returned Ischarus’ attack with a verbal retort. “Your threats are meaningless against me, the one that I serve, and my dragon father.”

Grick’s assertion was all that Ischarus needed to hear. “Your father? You mean the one whose plans we interrupted by taking his bride whom he intended to only use for evil?”

Grick screamed in anger in his draconic tongue. “Die!” As he yelled, he stepped back a single step and began rubbing his fingers vigorously together once more. He quickly cradled another invisible ball and tossed it hard toward the direction of Ischarus.

Luckily for Ischarus, Grick’s aim was off. The invisible ball sailed just over Ischarus’ left shoulder. Of course Ischarus didn’t flinch because there was nothing to see coming at him. A small cloud of dust erupted from the corner of a brick in the outer wall of the building behind him. The invisible attack had narrowly missed hitting him. With the demonstration of the invisible power that could be thrown and the damage the force had when it struck against the house, many of the onlookers decided to take a step back and give the combatants a little more room.

A shout rang out above the crowd from the guard tower. “Halt! You will abandon your conflict in the name of Lord Ironblood!” The guard had been concerned about the presence of a man running toward the gates. With the signs of armed combat there was a greater need for urgency.

Ischarus and Grick both smiled at the announcement. There was little a town guard would do against this conflict in the middle of a crowd of onlookers until reinforcements came. By the time help could arrive this conflict would be decided.

Rhema found an opening in Grick’s defenses as the voice of the guard distracted him. The tobacco coals flew in a high arc into the air and rested deep within the hood of Grick’s cloak. Rhema smiled as her successful attack pleased her. She continued concentrating upon the flames as she muttered to nobody in particular. “It won’t be long now…”

Unexpectedly an overweight woman who likely hadn’t bathed in nearly a month replied to her. “You’re right, missy. Either they’ll finish this up real quick or the city guard will come. Either way, it won’t be long.” Rhema could only grin as the woman misunderstood her comment.

Ischarus stepped forward and slashed out once more with his blade, but Grick had drawn his mace in his off hand and parried the blow with ease. Ischarus’ sword bounced off the unexpected weapon in an odd arc, leaving room for Grick to retaliate. Once again Grick stepped back and the crowd parted to give him room. His fingers rubbed together once more and he had another invisible ball. This time, Ischarus and the crowd behind Ischarus knew what to expect. Grick’s aim would show no improvement, however. The blast struck another wall. The invisible ball of force nearly struck the top of an onlooker’s head.

Rhema could feel the power of the flame welling up inside of her. She knew it was time. Much to the surprise of the entire gathered crowd, the hood of Grick’s cloak smoked for a second and then burst into flame. Grick was caught completely off-guard by this attack and he turned around quickly at the sound of the sudden explosion of flame. As he turned, the motion only caused a rush of oxygen to enter into the hood of his cape and the flames grew in an even greater intensity. Grick screamed as his flaming red hair caught on fire and the smell of melting hair engulfed the crowd.

Knowing that there was now an unknown threat that he was unprepared to face, Grick smartly did the one remaining thing that he could. With his free hand he flung up the hood of his cloak, enduring the intense moment of pain that brought the fire closest to his head. In a second, however, the flames were deprived of the oxygen they needed and were extinguished. He turned his back to Ischarus and prepared to jump into the crowd. 

As he spun, he gave Ischarus an interesting target. The fluttering of Grick’s cape made it impossible to target his body. Rather than swing blindly Ischarus re-gripped his sword so that the blade came down from his enclosed fist rather than up from the fist. He raised the sword high into the air and in an instant the sword drove towards the ground. The blade of the sword brought the edge of Grick’s cape to the ground with it. Once the blade struck the cobblestone streets, the blade smoothly found a gap between two stones and tore through the cape. In a single strike Ischarus had secured Grick’s cape to the road.

When Grick tried to leap into the crowd a slight tearing sound ripped through the crowd. The power of his jump was not enough to completely rip his cape. His shoulders reached the end of the cape and his feet launched out before him from the torque introduced by the pinned cape. Grick ended up prone on his back.

Rhema shouted towards Ischarus as she forced her way through the crowd. “Ischarus, no!” 

When she arrived she found that Ischarus had left the sword stuck in the ground. Rather than driving another of his weapons into the prone Grick Ischarus had decided to strike his enemy with his leather gauntleted hand. Grick was lying unconscious upon the ground, smoldering smoke still nauseatingly rising from his hair.[/Sblock]


----------



## sandtiger (Jul 15, 2006)

*feedback*

Hi,

I am enjoying the story.  The interaction of the dragonkind versus "humanity" is well described, and has quite a few possibilities.

To answer your questions.  (1)  Colored or not, I don't really care.  I am reading the colored and find it easier to realize which character is talking.  Also, I found it cool that Charis' color changed when she was introduced.  (2) Rogue's Gallery.  I usually am reading the story for the story, not the levels, so it doesn't matter to me.

Just one comment, sometimes I feel like shaking Semeion and saying get a grip.  Quit being an emotional basket case.   Does the character actually do that in the game?  If so, good roleplaying, just maybe not for the other players (if it was me). 

Good description on the pipe/fire.  I enjoyed the imagery/thought behind it.

Sandtiger


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 15, 2006)

*REPLY to READER, not an update...*

First of all, thanks for your reply!  I appreciate your comments about the coloration and Rogue's Gallery and the time you took to write them.

As to your thoughts about Semeion, in all but chapter 5 Semeion was largely dealing with the significant loss of his master through what he perceived as his own fault.  There is much self-inflicted blame that is weighing heavily upon himself.  Thus, the fact that you are saying you wish to shake him and tell him to get a grip means that his inner turmoil of guilt is showing through.  Additionally, he found himself on his first mission into a forbidden land and had to deal with the fact that he had rashly chosen to put his lives in the hands of total strangers.  Granted, Iscahrus and Rhema are good people and all.  But in hindsight it was a decision made because Semeion was used to having a mentor/master and this option merely allowed him to replace that master role with Ischarus/Rhema.  As time progressed the weight of that decision tore at Semeion.  Ultimately, though, that relationship has not become what Semeion expected.  By this point in the story Semeion is now an equal, not a pupil.  Finally, as you most likely picked up, Semeion found himself instantly emotionally involved with Charis - consider it part true love and part "White Knight" syndrome.  As often happens in real life, an already emotionally fragile character became more involved and is spread even thinner across his life... 

Dealing with all three of those angles has given Semeion a flare for instability.  As time progresses, each of those influences will either change or vanish completely and Semeion's character has a great chance of being more stable.

Again, thank you so much for your time and thought in replying.

-NF

[Sblock=Update Schedule]I apologize to my readers about not having an update for some time.  In my community, I have been dealing with the loss of a 9 year old.  This has had community wide reprocutions and has taken much of my time as a care-giver/counselor.  Furthermore, my band is prepping for our first puplic gig and that has meant miles on the car...

With luck, I'll have an update soon, maybe even in a few hours![/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 15, 2006)

The guard quickly drew closer to the combat, approached the downed invisible force slinger, and backed Ischarus out of the area.  As the guard approached Ischarus he drew his sword out of the ground underneath and sheathed it in his scabbard.  “He’s all yours, boys.  You can have him.  But can I have the name of your captain just in case I want to get some specific information out of him later on?”

Two of the guards stepped forward and grabbed Ischarus by the elbows, much to his dismay and shock.  At the sudden arrest Ischarus exclaimed a loud protest.  “Wait just a minute, here!  I was giving chase to this rascal!  He’s the one that fired his force attack at the guard!  I was merely keeping people safe!”

The largest of the guards smiled and replied.  “Yeah, that’s what they all say when the other one can’t talk.” The guard on Ischarus’ left side bent Ischarus’ left arm behind his back and began to push him forward.  The other guard pulled Ischarus’ sword from his scabbard and stowed it safely on his person before directing Ischarus to move.

Rhema stepped forward and tried to innocently defend Ischarus.  “Listen, boys.  You don’t need to take that man into custody.  I saw the whole thing and I can vouch for this man’s innocence in pursuing a criminal.  My father has a villa in Huetown, and he is quite the loyal supporter of Lord Ironblood.  I don’t imagine you’d want Lord Ironblood to have to inquire directly into this matter, would you?”

Ischarus didn’t need to turn around to know the voice and to hear the power within the voice.  Rhema was up to her old tricks.  This kind of situation was her forte.  It was a deadly game of mind persuasion.  Most of the time it worked, but if it didn’t work right here in this situation it could get her landed in jail for interfering with a local investigation of the city guard.  It was a bold move, but Ischarus was not at all surprised that Rhema had decided to play the game.

As the guard with Ischarus’ sword turned to face the speaker, he reached out to motion the other guard to turn Ischarus around as well.  “You boys take that other one to the jail, we’ll be along shortly.”  Refocusing his attention on the speaker he found himself face to face with a woman who was taller and much thinner than he had expected.  He looked slightly downward to the 5’8” tall Rhema and her brown eyes that showed through her flowing brown hair.  She looked innocent enough to pull off the game.

The guard acting in control of the others continued as he faced Rhema.  “Listen, lady, I certainly don’t want Lord Ironblood involved into a simple matter of city security.  But you have to understand that there was a fight here and we don’t know who was at fault!”

A voice from behind Rhema spoke out.  “It wasn’t that sword wielding one, that’s for sure!  I saw the whole thing!  I was actually amazed at it all.  That sword wielding one had several opportunities to cleave that other mage in two.  He was easily the more experienced fighter, but I could tell that there was an intention on this sword wielding one to not want to maim the other guy.”

Rhema turned her head to view the source of the unlikely support.  It was the guy whose tobacco she had used to ignite Grick’s cloak on fire.  She smiled a bit knowing that drawing the tobacco into the fight had certainly caught this man’s attention.  Her actions might have paid off in more ways than she had first imagined.

From behind Ischarus another voice spoke up.  “Yeah.  That one throwing those invisible balls of force had it in for the city guard.  He’s the one that made the guard up there sick.  This sword wielder didn’t even strike the other guy until after the city guard was attacked!”

Rhema smiled as a third voice spoke up.  She knew that with each voice her position grew stronger.  With each word of support her power of suggestion grew.  “I was almost hit by one of those invisible balls.  It sailed past my head and hit the brick building behind me hard enough to break of some of the brick.  You can’t tell me that this sword wielding man was attacking with as much effort as the other guy.  The other guy wanted to kill, it looked to me.  This guy just wanted to defend himself!”

Rhema jumped into speech before another voice could add to the gaining momentum.  “See, good officer?  The people here do not lie.  They saw what happened.  There is no reason to bother an innocent man by showing him the inside of a jail.  I promise you that if you release him into my custody that no further harm will come to him or from him.”

A woman who stood to Ischarus’ right piped up, “And don’t forget to tell them the name of your captain so that they can go and find out why that other mean guy was harassing them and the guard!”

Ischarus could only smile.  This was too much.  Surely even Rhema could not have foreseen the effectiveness that her pleas would have on the crowd.  Apparently they had enjoyed the fight, had been scared by the other man, and approved of Ischarus’ bold strike to capture and not injure.

The head guard turned to the other guard and motioned for Ischarus’ release.  The gathered crowd began to cheer, although the guard raised a hand to quiet them down.  “Some laws can be overlooked without consequence as in taking this man to jail.  However, some laws cannot be ignored on account of the future repercussions being too great.  I will not take this man into custody on account of all of your testimony.  But I cannot hand the weapon used in open conflict in the streets back to a man without the captain’s permission.  I will retain your sword, fighter.  You can retrieve it later in the day from Captain Jacobseille at the prison where your name will be cleared if he sees fit.  I release you in good faith that you will go to the prison and discuss this matter more in depth with him.”

The crowd began to murmur about this being an equitable solution and that Ischarus was innocent and should have no trouble.  It seemed as though the captain had his own experience at knowing how to work a crowd.

Ischarus replied to the conclusion reached by guard.  “Good sir, I will not only retrieve my sword from your captain, but I will tell him how pleased I was to have been given the pleasure of working with men of excellent ability such as yourself.  You are a good judge of character, and your men follow you with honor.” 

Ischarus knew that he laid it on intentionally thick, but with a compliment like this the captain would have no option of reconsidering his assertion to free Ischarus.  Furthermore, by adding the information about Ischarus praising this guard to his captain Ischarus ensured that the guards would report Ischarus favorably.  That would come in handy not only in retrieving a simple sword that he could replace; but it would also help him to convince the captain to let them see the Drakontos he had just fought.  At the very least it might allow him to get the information gleaned at the interrogation out of the captain.

The guard smiled and nodded to Ischarus and then turned to the crowd.  “Our work here is done, people.  Disperse and go about your regular lives, now.  The show is over and life can return to its orderly status.”

The crowds began to disperse as Rhema and Ischarus turned together and headed back to the temple district.  As they left, Rhema knew she heard the man with the pipe boasting, “… and then my tobacco flew through the air, right up out of my pipe!  It was my tobacco that caused the man’s hood to ignite in flames!  Honestly, I tell you all.  I saw it with my own eyes!”  Rhema smiled at the simply unbelievable testimony.

Once they had returned to the temple, they noticed that Semeion and Charis were no longer where they had left them.  Ischarus turned a bit to Rhema and asked, “You don’t suppose Grick was a decoy, do you?  Could we have fallen into that trap so easily?”

Rhema shook her head.  There was no sign of a conflict here and the people mulled around as if nothing happened.  “I doubt it.  Perhaps they went back inside where the thick stone walls cooled the air.”

A hand thumped hard against Ischarus’ shoulder.  The owner of the hand stood directly behind Ischarus and spoke.  “We thought the same thing, Ischarus.  So we decided to take shelter across the street from the temple and watch for anyone that Charis might know.”

Charis shook her head as Ischarus and Rhema turned to face Semeion and Charis.  “We didn’t see anyone, though.  When we saw you two coming we thought we might just give you both a moment to realize how much you’d miss us if we were gone.”

Rhema completely turned around and embraced Charis with a big hug.  “You need not go to such lengths to know that, Charis!’

Semeion furthered the discussion.  “So, what happened to Grick?  I notice that you return without your sword.”

Rhema smiled as Semeion took note of the fighter’s loss of a weapon.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
The guard quickly drew closer to the combat, approached the downed invisible force slinger, and backed Ischarus out of the area. As the guard approached Ischarus he drew his sword out of the ground underneath and sheathed it in his scabbard. “He’s all yours, boys. You can have him. But can I have the name of your captain just in case I want to get some specific information out of him later on?”

Two of the guards stepped forward and grabbed Ischarus by the elbows, much to his dismay and shock. At the sudden arrest Ischarus exclaimed a loud protest. “Wait just a minute, here! I was giving chase to this rascal! He’s the one that fired his force attack at the guard! I was merely keeping people safe!”

The largest of the guards smiled and replied. “Yeah, that’s what they all say when the other one can’t talk.” The guard on Ischarus’ left side bent Ischarus’ left arm behind his back and began to push him forward. The other guard pulled Ischarus’ sword from his scabbard and stowed it safely on his person before directing Ischarus to move.

Rhema stepped forward and tried to innocently defend Ischarus. “Listen, boys. You don’t need to take that man into custody. I saw the whole thing and I can vouch for this man’s innocence in pursuing a criminal. My father has a villa in Huetown, and he is quite the loyal supporter of Lord Ironblood. I don’t imagine you’d want Lord Ironblood to have to inquire directly into this matter, would you?”

Ischarus didn’t need to turn around to know the voice and to hear the power within the voice. Rhema was up to her old tricks. This kind of situation was her forte. It was a deadly game of mind persuasion. Most of the time it worked, but if it didn’t work right here in this situation it could get her landed in jail for interfering with a local investigation of the city guard. It was a bold move, but Ischarus was not at all surprised that Rhema had decided to play the game.

As the guard with Ischarus’ sword turned to face the speaker, he reached out to motion the other guard to turn Ischarus around as well. “You boys take that other one to the jail, we’ll be along shortly.” Refocusing his attention on the speaker he found himself face to face with a woman who was taller and much thinner than he had expected. He looked slightly downward to the 5’8” tall Rhema and her brown eyes that showed through her flowing brown hair. She looked innocent enough to pull off the game.

The guard acting in control of the others continued as he faced Rhema. “Listen, lady, I certainly don’t want Lord Ironblood involved into a simple matter of city security. But you have to understand that there was a fight here and we don’t know who was at fault!”

A voice from behind Rhema spoke out. “It wasn’t that sword wielding one, that’s for sure! I saw the whole thing! I was actually amazed at it all. That sword wielding one had several opportunities to cleave that other mage in two. He was easily the more experienced fighter, but I could tell that there was an intention on this sword wielding one to not want to maim the other guy.”

Rhema turned her head to view the source of the unlikely support. It was the guy whose tobacco she had used to ignite Grick’s cloak on fire. She smiled a bit knowing that drawing the tobacco into the fight had certainly caught this man’s attention. Her actions might have paid off in more ways than she had first imagined.

From behind Ischarus another voice spoke up. “Yeah. That one throwing those invisible balls of force had it in for the city guard. He’s the one that made the guard up there sick. This sword wielder didn’t even strike the other guy until after the city guard was attacked!”

Rhema smiled as a third voice spoke up. She knew that with each voice her position grew stronger. With each word of support her power of suggestion grew. “I was almost hit by one of those invisible balls. It sailed past my head and hit the brick building behind me hard enough to break of some of the brick. You can’t tell me that this sword wielding man was attacking with as much effort as the other guy. The other guy wanted to kill, it looked to me. This guy just wanted to defend himself!”

Rhema jumped into speech before another voice could add to the gaining momentum. “See, good officer? The people here do not lie. They saw what happened. There is no reason to bother an innocent man by showing him the inside of a jail. I promise you that if you release him into my custody that no further harm will come to him or from him.”

A woman who stood to Ischarus’ right piped up, “And don’t forget to tell them the name of your captain so that they can go and find out why that other mean guy was harassing them and the guard!”

Ischarus could only smile. This was too much. Surely even Rhema could not have foreseen the effectiveness that her pleas would have on the crowd. Apparently they had enjoyed the fight, had been scared by the other man, and approved of Ischarus’ bold strike to capture and not injure.

The head guard turned to the other guard and motioned for Ischarus’ release. The gathered crowd began to cheer, although the guard raised a hand to quiet them down. “Some laws can be overlooked without consequence as in taking this man to jail. However, some laws cannot be ignored on account of the future repercussions being too great. I will not take this man into custody on account of all of your testimony. But I cannot hand the weapon used in open conflict in the streets back to a man without the captain’s permission. I will retain your sword, fighter. You can retrieve it later in the day from Captain Jacobseille at the prison where your name will be cleared if he sees fit. I release you in good faith that you will go to the prison and discuss this matter more in depth with him.”

The crowd began to murmur about this being an equitable solution and that Ischarus was innocent and should have no trouble. It seemed as though the captain had his own experience at knowing how to work a crowd.

Ischarus replied to the conclusion reached by guard. “Good sir, I will not only retrieve my sword from your captain, but I will tell him how pleased I was to have been given the pleasure of working with men of excellent ability such as yourself. You are a good judge of character, and your men follow you with honor.” 

Ischarus knew that he laid it on intentionally thick, but with a compliment like this the captain would have no option of reconsidering his assertion to free Ischarus. Furthermore, by adding the information about Ischarus praising this guard to his captain Ischarus ensured that the guards would report Ischarus favorably. That would come in handy not only in retrieving a simple sword that he could replace; but it would also help him to convince the captain to let them see the Drakontos he had just fought. At the very least it might allow him to get the information gleaned at the interrogation out of the captain.

The guard smiled and nodded to Ischarus and then turned to the crowd. “Our work here is done, people. Disperse and go about your regular lives, now. The show is over and life can return to its orderly status.”

The crowds began to disperse as Rhema and Ischarus turned together and headed back to the temple district. As they left, Rhema knew she heard the man with the pipe boasting, “… and then my tobacco flew through the air, right up out of my pipe! It was my tobacco that caused the man’s hood to ignite in flames! Honestly, I tell you all. I saw it with my own eyes!” Rhema smiled at the simply unbelievable testimony.

Once they had returned to the temple, they noticed that Semeion and Charis were no longer where they had left them. Ischarus turned a bit to Rhema and asked, “You don’t suppose Grick was a decoy, do you? Could we have fallen into that trap so easily?”

Rhema shook her head. There was no sign of a conflict here and the people mulled around as if nothing happened. “I doubt it. Perhaps they went back inside where the thick stone walls cooled the air.”

A hand thumped hard against Ischarus’ shoulder. The owner of the hand stood directly behind Ischarus and spoke. “We thought the same thing, Ischarus. So we decided to take shelter across the street from the temple and watch for anyone that Charis might know.”

Charis shook her head as Ischarus and Rhema turned to face Semeion and Charis. “We didn’t see anyone, though. When we saw you two coming we thought we might just give you both a moment to realize how much you’d miss us if we were gone.”

Rhema completely turned around and embraced Charis with a big hug. “You need not go to such lengths to know that, Charis!’

Semeion furthered the discussion. “So, what happened to Grick? I notice that you return without your sword.”

Rhema smiled as Semeion took note of the fighter’s loss of a weapon.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 16, 2006)

*Chapter Six: HERITAGE REINCARNATED*

Ischarus couldn’t help but smile at Semeion’s assertion.  “Yes, I lost my sword.  I know – number one rule of being a well prepared fighter is to always remembering to have your weapon handy.  But it was either hand my sword over to the guard or else go into custody.  Apparently the city guard doesn’t look too highly upon armed conflicts inside their walls.  They refused to give me back my sword until I was proven innocent in my actions because they were either self-defense or an attempt to protect the innocent.”

Semeion nodded.  His experience under Master Sathwright had taught him much about the use of magic and force in the civilized areas.  “The city guard typically doesn’t approve of any kind of violence – and at best we’d all be considered vigilantes – even if we were working on the side of righteousness.  Vigilantism is frowned upon by organized control groups like the city guard.  In many cases the difference between a vigilante and a criminal is truly a fine line.  Many of today’s decent vigilantes have a good chance of being tomorrow’s criminals because they take it too far.”

Ischarus frowned slightly as he surveyed the people walking past the temple.  “I know that in my mind, Semeion, but in my heart I also know my motivations.  I know that what we do in Quehalost isnecessary.”

Rhema saw Ischarus’ frustration and cut him of before he could say any more.  Her hand slipped inside his left elbow and she stood beside him looking out into the crowd.  “You know your motivations.  They don’t.  That’s what makes vigilantism such a dangerous bedfellow for the city guard.  Vigilantes cannot be trusted fully because they do not submit to the rigorous structure of the law.  A vigilante doesn’t work within the system – at least no system that I am aware of.  I’m not saying it is bad to be a vigilante, but from the perspective of the law and the city guard what we did today was dangerous in their eyes.  Any time people talk justice into their own hands – even for reasons of good like we had – it is dangerous for the people that protect this city.”

Ischarus glanced at Rhema out of the corner of his eye and said, “And that is precisely why I love going into Quehalost.  When we are there, there is no confusion as to who the bringers of light and justice are.  We are the ones bringing the light of goodness to an evil controlled realm.  Our struggle in Quehalost is noble here.”

Charis took the opportunity to speak next.  She was smiling at the fact that her language ability was getting good enough to follow this relatively deep conversation.  “Yet when the struggle that began in Quehalost is brought to the civilized lands of Tongra the principles of that same quest are questioned.  Had we fought Grick on the other side of the mountains, the city guard would no doubt praise our efforts.  Here, they question our motivations.  Is it because the dangerous is brought so close to them or because their lack of effort in matters that far away threatens their definition of how good their sense of justice truly is?”

Rhema also smiled, realizing that now they were talking about her expertise of people and what drives them.  “Motivation is everything.  The difference between good and evil is often fine.  That is one of the reasons we never kill, Charis.  If we take life, we may be open forever to the accusation of killing for the wrong reason.  That is an accusation that we simply cannot afford to bring upon us if we desire to effectively reform those that we free.  If we kill, then the enemy has a right to at least bring our character into question.  Once our character is even remotely breeched – even if our killing would be justified – the enemy has the proper nook to place the smallest seed of doubt.  That is a seed that can grow under the right influences.  It is that fine line between criminal action and vigilantism that makes it such a dangerous tool to employ.”

Ischarus turned his expressionless face toward the people on the street and focused on a particularly plain looking man as he walked past the temple.  “Yes,” he asserted in agreement, knowing that Rhema’s excursion was designed to cool his thoughts a bit.  “and speaking of seeds of doubt that can be grown under the right amount of influence we should head to the jail to clear my name, get my sword back, and find out exactly what lies Grick has been spreading regarding the reasons for which he has come here.” 

Once Ischarus had brought them out of the philosophical and back into reality Semeion gestured to Ischarus to lead the way to the prison.  Rhema offered up a word of explanation as they walked.  “My father pays a significant price to allow the reforming work of his villa to continue in peace.  My father also pays a significant price to guarantee that Lord Ironblood ensures that his soldiers keep to themselves when incidents occur with rogue denizens of Quehalost.  It is pretty typical for the enemies that we make in Quehalost to want to exact revenge upon us and take back those to whom we gave wings of freedom.  My father prefers that we deal with the matters privately rather than involving the lord’s regular men.  To be honest, my father is wise and does not openly trust many of the lord’s men.  Like Lord Ironblood himself, many of his men can be bought with the right price.  If his men were made deeply aware of our movements in and out of Quehalost there would be many who would be willing to sell such information to the wrong people.  Thus, my father pays off Lord Ironblood to keep his tongue quiet.  So long as my father pays more to keep the lord’s mouth quiet than others pay to open it we are safely under the lord’s protection.”

Semeion shook his head as they approached the jail.  “That sounds to me like a rather precarious arrangement, personally.  I’ve no doubt that sooner or later there will be an enemy in Quehalost that can twist the lord’s arm another way.”

Ischarus added, “So long as we are careful, that time will not come.  The severity of our actions will largely determine the desire of the rulers of Quehalost to expend their resources to exact revenge.”

Once they had arrived at the jail, Rhema opened the door for Ischarus so that he could walk through first.  Charis followed him into the building.  Her interest and curiosity had been aroused at the possibility of seeing the inside of a prison.  Rhema held the door for Semeion and then followed the rest in.

Once inside the stone building, the coolness of the air was striking.  Much of the jail had been magically excavated by the same wizards long ago who had constructed the walls and gated entrances of the city.  The prison cells had been created to be completely underground.  This created subtle air currents that carried the cool air throughout the whole building.  Many of these currents arrived by shaft that were far too small for a person to fit through.  The fact that the walls were made of thick stone helped the building retain its coolness even in the heat of the day.

On the inside, the party found themselves in a long and narrow entrance room.  Immediately along the wall opposite from the door they had entered was another single door and a barred window beside it to the right.  The window itself was tall and very narrow.  It was too thin for a normal sized person to fit their shoulders through, although it might have been possible for a member of a smaller race to squeeze through should they be on their side and find a way to remove the bars.  

A woman sat on the opposite side of the window.  “Can I help you folks today?  Just so you know, Visitations are not allowed on a walk-in basis.  They must be arranged ahead of time with the warden.”

Ischarus approached the window with confidence and smiled pleasantly at the woman.  “Could you please tell Captain Jacobseille that the young man whose sword was taken by the city guard earlier in the day has come to clear his name and claim the sword back?”

The woman leaned forward in her chair so as to draw herself closer to the window.  From her seat behind the bars she looked at Ischarus from head to toe and said, “Yes, I do believe that the captain has been expecting you.  Can you wait for a moment while I go inform the captain that the one they have been waiting for has arrived?”

Ischarus nodded in the affirmative without saying a word.  The woman slid off her chair and quickly walked away from the window and out of sight.  The party could hear a door open and then slam freely behind her as she left her office area.

Everyone but Charis exchanged looks of anticipation.  Rather than anticipating the next step in clearing Ischarus’ name, Charis was intrigued by the procedures and even the construction of the building so that safety was ensured.  “Is this typical behavior, Semeion?” Charis asked out of her curiosity.

Semeion wrinkled his eyebrows in thought.  “Not to my knowledge.  I mean, it is pretty typical for the captains of the guard and the warden to have to be raised by other personnel, but I don’t like the way she phrased her words.  They’ve been waiting for you, Ischarus.”

Ischarus could feel his palms began to sweat.  The conversation they had earlier about vigilantism was not helping his thoughts at the moment.  For that matter, neither was Semeion.  “I noticed that too, Semeion.  It didn’t sound right the way she said it.  They’ve been waiting for me.  I don’t like how she said more than the captain has been waiting.”

As he stood in the long and narrow entrance room, Ischarus felt a power growing in his chest.  Actually, Ischarus felt as though he were beginning the initial stages of a heart attack.  Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his heart began to beat heavily.  The more he thought about the woman’s speech the more his heart pounded in his chest.  A feeling of warmth shot through his left arm and rested just below his wrists.  He opened and closed his left hand several times to try and shake the feeling, but it was no use.  The feeling was there to stay.  His heart beat even harder.

Rhema noticed Ischarus’ sudden fidget with his hand.  She slipped her own hand into the hand the hand that Ischarus was nervously fidgeting with and spoke with confidence.  “Either way, Ischarus, we’re staying put.  If they’ve been waiting for you then walking away does nothing.  If you walk away now you appear to be guilty of something that you are not.  If you and Semeion are simply having a problem with an overactive imagination then there is nothing to worry about.”

The door beside the window crashed open and five armed city guards poured out.  They were armed and ready for a fight.  Out of instinct Charis backed up and turned to the door leading to the outside.  As she turned for the door, it also burst open and ten more guards poured in from the outside of the building.  A man dressed in well kept leather armor and carrying a drawn falchion followed these ten guards in from the outside.  The dress of the man told the party that this was the warden of the jail.  The fact that the rest of the guards initially looked to him for a signal also demonstrated that he was in charge in this place.

By means of the inside door, two more men entered who were armed and armored better than the regular city guard.  Ischarus and Rhema immediately recognized one of them as the guard chief they had met on the street earlier.  The other one approached Ischarus.  His own falchion was already drawn and leveled in the direction of Ischarus’ heart.  

The man spoke as he approached Ischarus. “I understand from my chief that you are the owner of the sword he brought forth from an armed conflict earlier today.  I am Captain Jacobseille and the man over there is Warden Farette.  We are requesting that your friends leave your side and you come peacefully into the jail so we may discuss the events from earlier in the day.”

Semeion growled soft enough for Ischarus, Rhema, and Charis to hear, “I told you I didn’t like what the woman said.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]Chapter Six: HERITAGE REINCARNATED

Ischarus couldn’t help but smile at Semeion’s assertion. “Yes, I lost my sword. I know – number one rule of being a well prepared fighter is to always remembering to have your weapon handy. But it was either hand my sword over to the guard or else go into custody. Apparently the city guard doesn’t look too highly upon armed conflicts inside their walls. They refused to give me back my sword until I was proven innocent in my actions because they were either self-defense or an attempt to protect the innocent.”

Semeion nodded. His experience under Master Sathwright had taught him much about the use of magic and force in the civilized areas. “The city guard typically doesn’t approve of any kind of violence – and at best we’d all be considered vigilantes – even if we were working on the side of righteousness. Vigilantism is frowned upon by organized control groups like the city guard. In many cases the difference between a vigilante and a criminal is truly a fine line. Many of today’s decent vigilantes have a good chance of being tomorrow’s criminals because they take it too far.”

Ischarus frowned slightly as he surveyed the people walking past the temple. “I know that in my mind, Semeion, but in my heart I also know my motivations. I know that what we do in Quehalost isnecessary.”

Rhema saw Ischarus’ frustration and cut him of before he could say any more. Her hand slipped inside his left elbow and she stood beside him looking out into the crowd. “You know your motivations. They don’t. That’s what makes vigilantism such a dangerous bedfellow for the city guard. Vigilantes cannot be trusted fully because they do not submit to the rigorous structure of the law. A vigilante doesn’t work within the system – at least no system that I am aware of. I’m not saying it is bad to be a vigilante, but from the perspective of the law and the city guard what we did today was dangerous in their eyes. Any time people talk justice into their own hands – even for reasons of good like we had – it is dangerous for the people that protect this city.”

Ischarus glanced at Rhema out of the corner of his eye and said, “And that is precisely why I love going into Quehalost. When we are there, there is no confusion as to who the bringers of light and justice are. We are the ones bringing the light of goodness to an evil controlled realm. Our struggle in Quehalost is noble here.”

Charis took the opportunity to speak next. She was smiling at the fact that her language ability was getting good enough to follow this relatively deep conversation. “Yet when the struggle that began in Quehalost is brought to the civilized lands of Tongra the principles of that same quest are questioned. Had we fought Grick on the other side of the mountains, the city guard would no doubt praise our efforts. Here, they question our motivations. Is it because the dangerous is brought so close to them or because their lack of effort in matters that far away threatens their definition of how good their sense of justice truly is?”

Rhema also smiled, realizing that now they were talking about her expertise of people and what drives them. “Motivation is everything. The difference between good and evil is often fine. That is one of the reasons we never kill, Charis. If we take life, we may be open forever to the accusation of killing for the wrong reason. That is an accusation that we simply cannot afford to bring upon us if we desire to effectively reform those that we free. If we kill, then the enemy has a right to at least bring our character into question. Once our character is even remotely breeched – even if our killing would be justified – the enemy has the proper nook to place the smallest seed of doubt. That is a seed that can grow under the right influences. It is that fine line between criminal action and vigilantism that makes it such a dangerous tool to employ.”

Ischarus turned his expressionless face toward the people on the street and focused on a particularly plain looking man as he walked past the temple. “Yes,” he asserted in agreement, knowing that Rhema’s excursion was designed to cool his thoughts a bit. “and speaking of seeds of doubt that can be grown under the right amount of influence we should head to the jail to clear my name, get my sword back, and find out exactly what lies Grick has been spreading regarding the reasons for which he has come here.” 

Once Ischarus had brought them out of the philosophical and back into reality Semeion gestured to Ischarus to lead the way to the prison. Rhema offered up a word of explanation as they walked. “My father pays a significant price to allow the reforming work of his villa to continue in peace. My father also pays a significant price to guarantee that Lord Ironblood ensures that his soldiers keep to themselves when incidents occur with rogue denizens of Quehalost. It is pretty typical for the enemies that we make in Quehalost to want to exact revenge upon us and take back those to whom we gave wings of freedom. My father prefers that we deal with the matters privately rather than involving the lord’s regular men. To be honest, my father is wise and does not openly trust many of the lord’s men. Like Lord Ironblood himself, many of his men can be bought with the right price. If his men were made deeply aware of our movements in and out of Quehalost there would be many who would be willing to sell such information to the wrong people. Thus, my father pays off Lord Ironblood to keep his tongue quiet. So long as my father pays more to keep the lord’s mouth quiet than others pay to open it we are safely under the lord’s protection.”

Semeion shook his head as they approached the jail. “That sounds to me like a rather precarious arrangement, personally. I’ve no doubt that sooner or later there will be an enemy in Quehalost that can twist the lord’s arm another way.”

Ischarus added, “So long as we are careful, that time will not come. The severity of our actions will largely determine the desire of the rulers of Quehalost to expend their resources to exact revenge.”

Once they had arrived at the jail, Rhema opened the door for Ischarus so that he could walk through first. Charis followed him into the building. Her interest and curiosity had been aroused at the possibility of seeing the inside of a prison. Rhema held the door for Semeion and then followed the rest in.

Once inside the stone building, the coolness of the air was striking. Much of the jail had been magically excavated by the same wizards long ago who had constructed the walls and gated entrances of the city. The prison cells had been created to be completely underground. This created subtle air currents that carried the cool air throughout the whole building. Many of these currents arrived by shaft that were far too small for a person to fit through. The fact that the walls were made of thick stone helped the building retain its coolness even in the heat of the day.

On the inside, the party found themselves in a long and narrow entrance room. Immediately along the wall opposite from the door they had entered was another single door and a barred window beside it to the right. The window itself was tall and very narrow. It was too thin for a normal sized person to fit their shoulders through, although it might have been possible for a member of a smaller race to squeeze through should they be on their side and find a way to remove the bars. 

A woman sat on the opposite side of the window. “Can I help you folks today? Just so you know, Visitations are not allowed on a walk-in basis. They must be arranged ahead of time with the warden.”

Ischarus approached the window with confidence and smiled pleasantly at the woman. “Could you please tell Captain Jacobseille that the young man whose sword was taken by the city guard earlier in the day has come to clear his name and claim the sword back?”

The woman leaned forward in her chair so as to draw herself closer to the window. From her seat behind the bars she looked at Ischarus from head to toe and said, “Yes, I do believe that the captain has been expecting you. Can you wait for a moment while I go inform the captain that the one they have been waiting for has arrived?”

Ischarus nodded in the affirmative without saying a word. The woman slid off her chair and quickly walked away from the window and out of sight. The party could hear a door open and then slam freely behind her as she left her office area.

Everyone but Charis exchanged looks of anticipation. Rather than anticipating the next step in clearing Ischarus’ name, Charis was intrigued by the procedures and even the construction of the building so that safety was ensured. “Is this typical behavior, Semeion?” Charis asked out of her curiosity.

Semeion wrinkled his eyebrows in thought. “Not to my knowledge. I mean, it is pretty typical for the captains of the guard and the warden to have to be raised by other personnel, but I don’t like the way she phrased her words. They’ve been waiting for you, Ischarus.”

Ischarus could feel his palms began to sweat. The conversation they had earlier about vigilantism was not helping his thoughts at the moment. For that matter, neither was Semeion. “I noticed that too, Semeion. It didn’t sound right the way she said it. They’ve been waiting for me. I don’t like how she said more than the captain has been waiting.”

As he stood in the long and narrow entrance room, Ischarus felt a power growing in his chest. Actually, Ischarus felt as though he were beginning the initial stages of a heart attack. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his heart began to beat heavily. The more he thought about the woman’s speech the more his heart pounded in his chest. A feeling of warmth shot through his left arm and rested just below his wrists. He opened and closed his left hand several times to try and shake the feeling, but it was no use. The feeling was there to stay. His heart beat even harder.

Rhema noticed Ischarus’ sudden fidget with his hand. She slipped her own hand into the hand the hand that Ischarus was nervously fidgeting with and spoke with confidence. “Either way, Ischarus, we’re staying put. If they’ve been waiting for you then walking away does nothing. If you walk away now you appear to be guilty of something that you are not. If you and Semeion are simply having a problem with an overactive imagination then there is nothing to worry about.”

The door beside the window crashed open and five armed city guards poured out. They were armed and ready for a fight. Out of instinct Charis backed up and turned to the door leading to the outside. As she turned for the door, it also burst open and ten more guards poured in from the outside of the building. A man dressed in well kept leather armor and carrying a drawn falchion followed these ten guards in from the outside. The dress of the man told the party that this was the warden of the jail. The fact that the rest of the guards initially looked to him for a signal also demonstrated that he was in charge in this place.

By means of the inside door, two more men entered who were armed and armored better than the regular city guard. Ischarus and Rhema immediately recognized one of them as the guard chief they had met on the street earlier. The other one approached Ischarus. His own falchion was already drawn and leveled in the direction of Ischarus’ heart. 

The man spoke as he approached Ischarus. “I understand from my chief that you are the owner of the sword he brought forth from an armed conflict earlier today. I am Captain Jacobseille and the man over there is Warden Farette. We are requesting that your friends leave your side and you come peacefully into the jail so we may discuss the events from earlier in the day.”

Semeion growled soft enough for Ischarus, Rhema, and Charis to hear, “I told you I didn’t like what the woman said.”
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 21, 2006)

Ischarus reached for the hilt of his sword out of instinct whenever he was cornered.  His mind flashed between defending his honor with his sword or subjugating himself to the schemes of this jail captain and his warden.  As his fingers sought to stiffen his grip around the hilt of his sword, he remembered that his blade was not by his side.  

Rhema took note of Ischarus’ uneasiness.  In spite of Ischarus’ concern she knew that she couldn’t possibly influence all the guards present with her powers of telepathy.  Instead, perhaps a bit of persuasion might be in order.  “Listen, Captain Jacobseille.  I don’t know what you have heard about my friend and quite frankly so long as you find him innocent of all charges I don’t particularly care.  But Ischarus did nothing outside of helping your guard apprehend the criminal against all of Tongra known as Grick.”

Captain Jacobseille and Warden Farette exchanged smiles.  Captain Jacobseille replied with encouragement from his warden in the form of a nod.  “What we have heard, milady, is that your friend drew a weapon and ran through the streets chasing after the one you call Grick.  That alone proves that your friend’s actions were not in self defense but rather in aggression.  You did not have to chase the one that you call Grick through the streets, causing a mild panic as you went along.  You easily could have alerted the town guard to chase him down properly.  We are within our rights to question Ischarus against his actions.  We cannot support vigilante tactics and honestly keep order among our streets.”

Rhema breathed out heavily and sighed as Charis spoke.  “But they were defending me!  The one that is in your custody had attacked me twice in two different locations!”

The captain smiled again, listening to this new voice.  “Grick’s own testimony does not support your conclusions.  Grick claims himself innocent against your charges and maintains that he was fleeing from your ruthless assault upon him.”

Charis nearly yelled in response to the attempt to set Grick’s testimony to the level of Ischarus’ testimony.  “That is a lie!  You would believe the words of a liar than my own words?  I was not at the fight and thus am innocent of your investigation, but I know I was sick!  In your eyes I have done nothing wrong, but you would believe the words of one who acted out intending harm upon innocent citizens?”

Captain Jacobseille smiled politely, knowing the Charis’ point was valid.  But he also knew that his own point was quite rational.  “Milady, it is not so simple as weighing the testimony of innocent above the guilty.  Our laws are not so easily circumvented.  All must be given their right to defend themselves in testimony before the investigation.  Once there has been an official inquiry sanctioned by my authority the punishments or releases will be declared.  It is the only fair way.”

Ischarus knew that the situation was pointless.  Without a blade, there was simply no chance of fighting their way out.  Even if they did try and fight it would only scar their reputation in the town and potentially risk forcing Rhema’s father to have to pay more toward maintaining a low profile.  It was as if they had spoken of vigilantism in preparation for this moment.  He was not on the payroll for the town guards.  Yet he was also no common criminal.  He should have nothing to fear.  

Ischarus held out his empty palms in a sign to his friends that he desired to talk.  It was only his outstretched hand that kept Rhema quiet as he spoke.  “I submit to your investigation, Captain.  My honor will prove itself and I will once more feel the grip of my honorable steel at my side and in my fingers.  My friends have done nothing.  I submit fairly and without effort so that you will not involve them as well.”

The warden smiled and took over the proceedings.  “We are an honorable guard, Ischarus.  Our original deal was that if you came peacefully your friends would feel no resistance in leaving.  That option is still available so long as they submit to your decision to turn yourself in to our investigation.”

Ischarus still held out a hand to silence Rhema.  “Will you grant me a farewell gesture with my friends?  I promise that no foolishness will come of the gesture and they will leave one by one as I am done.  Then you can take me into the depths of your prison as you desire.”

The warden looked at Ischarus long and hard before eventually nodding in the affirmative.  “Very well, Ischarus.  You may greet your friends with a goodbye gesture on your honor.  If there is any foolishness, you will be hunted down like the criminal such an act would make you.”

At the warden’s words a few of the guards surrounding the adventurers smiled as if they enjoyed the thought of the physical hunt and conflict.  Ischarus saw the smiles and was glad he didn’t have a weapon.  Some of these guards looked as though they would relish any excuse to run him through.

Ischarus turned to Charis first.  As he hugged her goodbye, he whispered into her ear in the draconic language they shared.  “Return to the temple and find the priest who healed you.  His testimony might be useful in proving that you were attacked magically.”  Ischarus could feel her head nod as they finished their embrace.  He waited until Charis was allowed to leave the building before embracing Semeion.

Leaning into a hug with Semeion, he added in the draconic language they too shared, “It is important to protect Charis now.  The red wyrm has brought forth at least one minion to bring her down.  There is no telling how many he has sent and to what extent they are willing to go in order to take her from us.  Keep her alive until I am freed and we can return to the safety of the villa.”  Semeion also nodded as they released each other.

Once Semeion was safely outside, Ischarus turned to Rhema.  They embraced in a long hug and as they separated, Ischarus leaned forward and gave her a kiss upon her lips.  Rhema was caught completely off guard with this gesture but did not resist in the least.  As their lips parted, Ischarus could see in her face that she was stunned.  “We have flirted for years, Rhema.  Fear of losing any shared love has kept us from expressing our desires to one another.  Semeion and Rhema have taught me that fear is foolish in the presence of love.  I must confess that I have loved you for some time, Rhema.  Now go and find a man named Brandt.  You will find him frequenting the temple sometime this day.  Ask the priests there to identify him to you and tell him a Drakontos needs his expertise.”

Rhema didn’t understand the message.  Given the emotional shock that Ischarus had laid upon her regarding his feelings, Rhema was lucky to have even heard his request amidst the rush of emotion that had risen up within her. It was a simple and unexpected expression of love.  

Since she looked too stunned to speak, Ischarus gave her one last piece of information.  “Go alone.  Leave Charis to her quest and Semeion to protect her.  You must go alone to find him.  Do you understand?”

Charis nodded slowly, still lost in the emotion that poured through her soul.  Ischarus reached out and embraced her lightly above her hips and smiled as he brought her back to reality by turning her away from him and toward the door.  Once she was turned, he gave her a loving push.  She turned once more to look at Ischarus as she left.  He smiled like she had never seen him smile before.  She had always suspected, but now he looked free from the burden he carried with him for some time.  She too was free.  With this final recognition Rhema turned and exited the building.

Ischarus held up his hands so the guards would have no excuse to challenge him.  He smiled at the captain and turned to the warden.  “Warden Farette, I have done nothing but honor my word in your presence.  Perhaps I may make a single request?  I would ask that if it is possible that you would place me in a cell opposite the one we call Grick.  And I would ask that you remain out of sight in the cell block for a few minutes after I am locked up.  I believe if you are willing to greet my request with the same honor that I have just shown you that this matter will become as clear in your eyes as it is in mine.”

The captain turned to the warden with a look of confusion.  The warden smiled slightly and replied.  “I can arrange that since you have made my life easy today.  I will do this under two conditions of my own.  You will allow yourself to be interrogated once you have been given time in your cell and that you promise me that you have no magical trick planned.”

Ischarus smiled, feeling that there might be hope after all.  “Sir, if I ever hope to see the light of day once those bars are sealed behind me, I know not to assault another prisoner.  Besides, magic is not within my grasp.  I admit to using my sword and not any arcane or divine arts.”

The warden nodded to the captain and Captain Jacobseille turned on his heels and left the room.  Once he had cleared the room the warden commanded his troops, “Take the prisoner to the cell across from the one apprehended this afternoon.  And you are under strict orders to let him walk freely so long as he offers no resistance.”

A few of the guards sneered in disappointment, but orders were orders.  Ischarus voluntarily allowed himself to be handcuffed.  He followed an escort of considerable size.  One third of the guards who were in the room walked ahead of Ischarus into the prison.  The remaining two thirds of the guards followed him into the back room of the prison and presumably into the bowels of the underground cells.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Ischarus reached for the hilt of his sword out of instinct whenever he was cornered. His mind flashed between defending his honor with his sword or subjugating himself to the schemes of this jail captain and his warden. As his fingers sought to stiffen his grip around the hilt of his sword, he remembered that his blade was not by his side. 

Rhema took note of Ischarus’ uneasiness. In spite of Ischarus’ concern she knew that she couldn’t possibly influence all the guards present with her powers of telepathy. Instead, perhaps a bit of persuasion might be in order. “Listen, Captain Jacobseille. I don’t know what you have heard about my friend and quite frankly so long as you find him innocent of all charges I don’t particularly care. But Ischarus did nothing outside of helping your guard apprehend the criminal against all of Tongra known as Grick.”

Captain Jacobseille and Warden Farette exchanged smiles. Captain Jacobseille replied with encouragement from his warden in the form of a nod. “What we have heard, milady, is that your friend drew a weapon and ran through the streets chasing after the one you call Grick. That alone proves that your friend’s actions were not in self defense but rather in aggression. You did not have to chase the one that you call Grick through the streets, causing a mild panic as you went along. You easily could have alerted the town guard to chase him down properly. We are within our rights to question Ischarus against his actions. We cannot support vigilante tactics and honestly keep order among our streets.”

Rhema breathed out heavily and sighed as Charis spoke. “But they were defending me! The one that is in your custody had attacked me twice in two different locations!”

The captain smiled again, listening to this new voice. “Grick’s own testimony does not support your conclusions. Grick claims himself innocent against your charges and maintains that he was fleeing from your ruthless assault upon him.”

Charis nearly yelled in response to the attempt to set Grick’s testimony to the level of Ischarus’ testimony. “That is a lie! You would believe the words of a liar than my own words? I was not at the fight and thus am innocent of your investigation, but I know I was sick! In your eyes I have done nothing wrong, but you would believe the words of one who acted out intending harm upon innocent citizens?”

Captain Jacobseille smiled politely, knowing the Charis’ point was valid. But he also knew that his own point was quite rational. “Milady, it is not so simple as weighing the testimony of innocent above the guilty. Our laws are not so easily circumvented. All must be given their right to defend themselves in testimony before the investigation. Once there has been an official inquiry sanctioned by my authority the punishments or releases will be declared. It is the only fair way.”

Ischarus knew that the situation was pointless. Without a blade, there was simply no chance of fighting their way out. Even if they did try and fight it would only scar their reputation in the town and potentially risk forcing Rhema’s father to have to pay more toward maintaining a low profile. It was as if they had spoken of vigilantism in preparation for this moment. He was not on the payroll for the town guards. Yet he was also no common criminal. He should have nothing to fear. 

Ischarus held out his empty palms in a sign to his friends that he desired to talk. It was only his outstretched hand that kept Rhema quiet as he spoke. “I submit to your investigation, Captain. My honor will prove itself and I will once more feel the grip of my honorable steel at my side and in my fingers. My friends have done nothing. I submit fairly and without effort so that you will not involve them as well.”

The warden smiled and took over the proceedings. “We are an honorable guard, Ischarus. Our original deal was that if you came peacefully your friends would feel no resistance in leaving. That option is still available so long as they submit to your decision to turn yourself in to our investigation.”

Ischarus still held out a hand to silence Rhema. “Will you grant me a farewell gesture with my friends? I promise that no foolishness will come of the gesture and they will leave one by one as I am done. Then you can take me into the depths of your prison as you desire.”

The warden looked at Ischarus long and hard before eventually nodding in the affirmative. “Very well, Ischarus. You may greet your friends with a goodbye gesture on your honor. If there is any foolishness, you will be hunted down like the criminal such an act would make you.”

At the warden’s words a few of the guards surrounding the adventurers smiled as if they enjoyed the thought of the physical hunt and conflict. Ischarus saw the smiles and was glad he didn’t have a weapon. Some of these guards looked as though they would relish any excuse to run him through.

Ischarus turned to Charis first. As he hugged her goodbye, he whispered into her ear in the draconic language they shared. “Return to the temple and find the priest who healed you. His testimony might be useful in proving that you were attacked magically.” Ischarus could feel her head nod as they finished their embrace. He waited until Charis was allowed to leave the building before embracing Semeion.

Leaning into a hug with Semeion, he added in the draconic language they too shared, “It is important to protect Charis now. The red wyrm has brought forth at least one minion to bring her down. There is no telling how many he has sent and to what extent they are willing to go in order to take her from us. Keep her alive until I am freed and we can return to the safety of the villa.” Semeion also nodded as they released each other.

Once Semeion was safely outside, Ischarus turned to Rhema. They embraced in a long hug and as they separated, Ischarus leaned forward and gave her a kiss upon her lips. Rhema was caught completely off guard with this gesture but did not resist in the least. As their lips parted, Ischarus could see in her face that she was stunned. “We have flirted for years, Rhema. Fear of losing any shared love has kept us from expressing our desires to one another. Semeion and Rhema have taught me that fear is foolish in the presence of love. I must confess that I have loved you for some time, Rhema. Now go and find a man named Brandt. You will find him frequenting the temple sometime this day. Ask the priests there to identify him to you and tell him a Drakontos needs his expertise.”

Rhema didn’t understand the message. Given the emotional shock that Ischarus had laid upon her regarding his feelings, Rhema was lucky to have even heard his request amidst the rush of emotion that had risen up within her. It was a simple and unexpected expression of love. 

Since she looked too stunned to speak, Ischarus gave her one last piece of information. “Go alone. Leave Charis to her quest and Semeion to protect her. You must go alone to find him. Do you understand?”

Charis nodded slowly, still lost in the emotion that poured through her soul. Ischarus reached out and embraced her lightly above her hips and smiled as he brought her back to reality by turning her away from him and toward the door. Once she was turned, he gave her a loving push. She turned once more to look at Ischarus as she left. He smiled like she had never seen him smile before. She had always suspected, but now he looked free from the burden he carried with him for some time. She too was free. With this final recognition Rhema turned and exited the building.

Ischarus held up his hands so the guards would have no excuse to challenge him. He smiled at the captain and turned to the warden. “Warden Farette, I have done nothing but honor my word in your presence. Perhaps I may make a single request? I would ask that if it is possible that you would place me in a cell opposite the one we call Grick. And I would ask that you remain out of sight in the cell block for a few minutes after I am locked up. I believe if you are willing to greet my request with the same honor that I have just shown you that this matter will become as clear in your eyes as it is in mine.”

The captain turned to the warden with a look of confusion. The warden smiled slightly and replied. “I can arrange that since you have made my life easy today. I will do this under two conditions of my own. You will allow yourself to be interrogated once you have been given time in your cell and that you promise me that you have no magical trick planned.”

Ischarus smiled, feeling that there might be hope after all. “Sir, if I ever hope to see the light of day once those bars are sealed behind me, I know not to assault another prisoner. Besides, magic is not within my grasp. I admit to using my sword and not any arcane or divine arts.”

The warden nodded to the captain and Captain Jacobseille turned on his heels and left the room. Once he had cleared the room the warden commanded his troops, “Take the prisoner to the cell across from the one apprehended this afternoon. And you are under strict orders to let him walk freely so long as he offers no resistance.”

A few of the guards sneered in disappointment, but orders were orders. Ischarus voluntarily allowed himself to be handcuffed. He followed an escort of considerable size. One third of the guards who were in the room walked ahead of Ischarus into the prison. The remaining two thirds of the guards followed him into the back room of the prison and presumably into the bowels of the underground cells.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 21, 2006)

Near the back of the building the guards stopped and began to form another circle.  The warden approached Ischarus from behind and offered an explanation.  “You’ll want to stand in the middle of the circle, Ischarus.  My guards can hold you there by force, of course.  But since you have been so compliant up to this point I will offer you the chance to descend into the prison depths of your own accord.”

Ischarus nodded and silently waited in what he thought to be a circle of guards forming around him.  None of the guard had drawn their weapons, but they appeared eager to do so.  As he looked towards the guards in formation he realized that their eagerness to draw their weapon was more out of training than personal vendetta against him.  They were used to handling criminals who did not desire to go willingly into the depths of the prison.  They were trained to be aggressive in holding their prisoner in the center of their circle.

The warden stood beside Ischarus and motioned for the captain to join them.  Two more guards advanced out of the circle.  One of them appeared to be decorated with high honor, and Ischarus assumed he was the personal bodyguard of the warden.  The second guard who stepped forward had a large key ring full of keys attached to a metal grommet in his belt.  Once the five people were situated in the center of the guards, the guard with the set of keys lifted a single black rod that measured a mere foot long.  He touched each of the smaller group within the circle of guards with the rod, saying “Parzuhs Ahn-takrass” as he touched each person including himself.  One by one each of the inner group became translucent and appeared as though they were composed of a misty air rather than solid matter.

Seeing the beginning of the jailing take effect, one of the guards in the outside circle lifted up a six inch gray and white rod made of marble.  Setting one end of the rod upon the floor and holding the other end in his hand this guard spoke three simple words.  “Biturbign con-Fustle.”  A small hole opened in the floor immediately below the five whose bodies had been recently transformed into a far less substantial substance.  The five in the center hung over the hole and did not immediately fall through the ground.

Once the hole was opened, the guard with the marble rod stood up and lifted a second rod into the air.  With a smile toward Ischarus and those around him he gripped the foot-long tapered ivory wand and spoke.  “Shoosh dahs-Cricknohn.”  A small gust of wind originated above the five and began to blow down through the hole in the floor.

Ischarus immediately felt the uncontrollable movement as the wind blew his insubstantial body into the hole that had opened underneath his feet.  His stomach began to turn as he instinctively fought against the movement.  There was nothing he could do, however.  His insubstantial body of vapor could not resist the gust of air.  As his body struggled to understand what was happening around him, he and the others around him descended into the depths below.  Ischarus watched the guards around him as he descended and before too long he could only look up at the floor that had now become his ceiling.  The hole above him sealed itself as magically as it had appeared and he found himself in darkness.

It was the voice of the warden that Ischarus next heard.  Warden Farette’s voice did not sound normal, however.  It sounded to Ischarus as if the warden was speaking through water to talk to him. “Ischarus, wish yourself to be solid once more and you will be freed of your condition.” 

Regardless of how the warden spoke, Ischarus had gotten the message.  He mentally focused on reorganizing himself into a solid body and he could feel himself getting cold.  As his body took its original shape he could feel the cool and damp air around him.  His body took solid shape and he could see the faint light of the torches hung along the wall of the cellblock.  Once he was solid again it took his eyes a minute to adjust to the limited light. Eventually he was able to focus once more.  “You do that often?”  Ischarus spoke as he tried to swallow the nauseous feeling that was slowly creeping up his throat.

The guard with the rods spoke with humor in his voice.  “You get used to the feeling and the movement.  If you spend any time in our jail you’ll get used to it, too.”

Ischarus shook his head as the warden stepped down the corridor.  “The cell that you have requested is this way, Ischarus.  Three floors down.”

Ischarus spoke with hesitation, fearing the answer of his captors.  “Am I going to have to do that three more times, then?” 

Warden Farette chuckled as he replied.  “No, Ischarus.  Now that we are below ground we use stairs.  The means of transporting you through the magic rods are simply to ensure that if anyone manages to break out of their cell they cannot escape the underground prison.  The worst that they can do is to travel the many levels of the cellblock and inflict havoc upon the incarcerated.”

As they walked, Ischarus asked another question.  “So, if prisoners are transported that way every time and all it takes is to wish yourself to be solid, what prevents a prisoner from wishing himself solid too early?  Wouldn’t he then drop to the ground earlier than the rest and potentially set himself to hurt the guards as they solidify?”

The warden stopped and looked back to Ischarus. “You should remember, Ischarus, that as of this moment you are a prisoner.  Asking questions like that will not earn you trust with the guards in this place.  You are not here on a tour, and until the captain here deems you worthy of release you should remember your place.”

Captain Jacobseille answered Ischarus’ question.  “The solution is rather ingenious, actually.  You no doubt noticed that to us the hole appeared to be completely open in the floor.  Yet, if you were to ask any of the guards up above they will tell you that the hole was not complete.  If anything, the hole was a mere shadow of existence within the floor.  Thus, if a prisoner wishes to materialize too early, they could find themselves trying to solidify in the floor.  If that were to happen, the magic of the spell is designed to automatically expel them violently to the floor below.  They would likely be rendered with a significant injury and left unconscious.  If they do manage to wait until they have cleared the hole in the floor, then they would fall as rapidly as would be expected of any solid body materializing several feet above solid ground.  They would fall to the ground below and likely be injured.  Even still, if they do manage to land on their feet free of injury then our guards can rest easy in the knowledge that as long as they maintain their more spiritual nature they cannot be harmed.  They need merely separate and force the prisoner to choose one of them to wait and materialize.  Any guard that can get far enough from the prisoner to safely materialize can do so and come to apprehend the freed prisoner.  Once the prisoner is apprehended the rest of the guards can solidify in safety.  It really is a nearly fool-proof process.”

Ischarus and the guards walked slowly until they came to a flight of stairs.  They descended the stairs until the warden indicated that they had gone far enough and opened a door to the proper cellblock.  Ischarus walked silently toward his cell, knowing that if his plan had any hope of working he must maintain the image of a caught prisoner.

Ischarus was shown his cell.  The guard who had all of the keys opened the door for Ischarus and then secured it behind him.  Once the warden was satisfied, Ischarus was left in silence.  As Ischarus gripped the cell bars along the hall, he noticed something across the hall.  A man rested on his cot directly across from where he gripped the iron bars.  Ischarus smiled as he noted that the man had flame red hair.  Surely this was Grick, the one that had brought this situation upon him.  

Ischarus could feel an anger building inside him.  He struggled inside himself to suppress this anger, knowing that composure was the only hope he had of getting out of his current situation without any doubt of his freedom.  He looked down at his right hand.  It was turning a light blue shade and he could feel an anger burning deep inside of him.  The feeling of energy that he had felt only minutes prior when his friends had come with him to enter the prison had returned.  He tried to move his fingers but he found that they were stiff and beginning to freeze to the bars of his cell.  Panic quickly pushed the anger from his mind and he brought his left hand over to grasp his right hand.  He planned to use his body heat to warm up his right hand.  As his left hand touched the bar he realized that both the bar and the hand felt cold as if they were frozen.  Ischarus paused for a moment and felt the rest of the bars near where he was standing.  He discovered that they remained a normal temperature.

Ischarus could hear a chuckle from across the hallway.  He responded in a bitter tone.  “Did you do this to me, Grick?”  His voice raise into a yell as he tried to get his hand free from where it was frozen to the bar.

Grick only laughed and pushed his long red hair out of his eyes.  “No, but I wish I had.  It gives my heart joy to see you suffer like the Provenience-thieving dog that you are!”  Grick sneered and rubbed his fingers together quickly.  Soon he had another one of his invisible balls of force and he took aim across the dark hallway.  Ischarus saw the attack coming and worked hard to free his hand from the bar.  His fingers now stretched free, but his palm was still stuck fast to the steel cell bar.

This time, Grick landed a successful attack.  Ischarus was knocked back from the cell door and he could feel the skin on the palm of his right hand tear away.  He quickly glanced up to the bar and saw that he had left a significant chunk of his skin stuck to the bar.  He couldn’t bring himself to look at his own hand.  The nausea from Grick’s attack had begun to take effect much like it had done earlier on Charis and the town guard.  He bent over onto his knees and began to dry heave.

Grick could only laugh as he watched Ischarus fall prey to his magical assault.  “I’ve got more where that came from you weak human dog.  None of you can withstand the greatness of the dragon born.  My father dragon will one day amass a new army and take Quehalost by storm.  Your intrusion into his plan will only delay the inevitable.  It won’t be long before we have slain the Provenience you stole from us and a new one is brought to him.  Then you humans will fear my father dragon and his army before him.  Quehalost will fall into the control of my dragon father.  Then we shall come into Tongra and strike down this place.”

Ischarus’ body passed through one more cycle of dry heaves upon the floor and then he rested his head on the cool stone floor beneath him.  Ischarus began to slowly laugh as the magical sickness from Grick’s attack began to wear off.  Although he was laughing, he did not have the strength to look towards his opponent.

Grick looked insulted as Ischarus laughed.  “What are you laughing at, human dog?

Ischarus slowly stood to his feet.  As the magical sickness wore off, the pain from his hand tore through his mind.  He struggled to keep from shrieking in pain and showing himself weak.  He turned to Grick and approached the cell bars once more.  This time he was careful not to touch them out of fear of having a recurrence of the last incident.  “I am laughing,” Ischarus commented bravely through the intense pain of his right hand, “Because you think I am human!  My silver father dragon would get quite a laugh at your stupidity you son of a greedy red!  You cannot beat me from in here.  You cannot further your father dragon’s weak cause from behind these bars.  You have failed in your quest!  That comment even assumes that the pitiful excuse of a task you were on in the first place could even be called a quest!”  By the time Ischarus had finished speaking he was yelling.  The yelling was not out of anger, but rather an attempt to hide the intense pain from the wound on his hand.

Grick raged from his side of the cellblock.  “My father dragon’s cause is not weak!  Once we have killed the Provenience that you stole from us and retrieved a suitable female to become the new Provenience in her place then you will see.  The force of my father dragon will go unquenched!  You shall not stop him!”

Ischarus could see Grick rubbing his fingers together again.  He would have to work fast before taking another attack.  “So that is why you have come you foul-smelling fire-breathing offspring?  You have come into this land to kill my friend and to kidnap another?”

Grick howled in rage once more.  “I have come to kill the sacrifice that you stole from my father dragon and to bring into effect a new time of dragon fear to this land and to Quehalost!  Even if you keep me in prison my friends will succeed!”

Grick launched another one of his attacks and Ischarus welcomed the attack solidly in the chest.  Ischarus was knocked back several steps and once more collapsed onto the floor.  As he hit the floor, the sound of a breaking bone echoed through the cellblock.  Ischarus wasn’t sure whether to cry in pain over his hand, the pain that he felt as his leg snapped when he tried to brace himself for the fall, or whether to throw up once more from the magical sickness.

The warden and his guards moved in on Ischarus and Grick.  They raced down the hallway, revealing their hidden presence to Grick.  Warden Farette pointed to the guard with the keys and said, “Get that door open and prepare him for transport.  He needs medical attention, and I want him interviewed immediately after the healer is summoned.”

The warden spun on his heals and looked at Captain Jacobseille.  “Captain, draw your crossbow and aim it at the one called Grick.  If he even breathes in a threatening way to the other prisoner or us … shoot him. It can be on my authority and record if you shoot him well enough to kill.”

The warden looked to the other guard who had the black rod.  “Go summon more guards.  I want this place swarming with guards!”  He pointed to Ischarus and said, “I want him brought to the infirmary immediately and the healer summoned.  Bring people to help move him.”  The warden pointed to Grick.  “And I want a large armed party to take that one to an interrogation room.  Bind his hands twice so that he cannot use them in his mystical ways.  I want him safe for interrogation in fifteen minutes.  And prepare the needles in case he won’t talk.”

As Ischarus lay in pain, he turned his head to dry heave.  He knew the sickness would pass.  The broken leg would heal.  All of this was finally worth it.  He now knew an important piece of information.  Grick was not alone, and the target was Charis.  Semeion had to be prepared for this.  The father dragon would not be stopped easily.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Near the back of the building the guards stopped and began to form another circle. The warden approached Ischarus from behind and offered an explanation. “You’ll want to stand in the middle of the circle, Ischarus. My guards can hold you there by force, of course. But since you have been so compliant up to this point I will offer you the chance to descend into the prison depths of your own accord.”

Ischarus nodded and silently waited in what he thought to be a circle of guards forming around him. None of the guard had drawn their weapons, but they appeared eager to do so. As he looked towards the guards in formation he realized that their eagerness to draw their weapon was more out of training than personal vendetta against him. They were used to handling criminals who did not desire to go willingly into the depths of the prison. They were trained to be aggressive in holding their prisoner in the center of their circle.

The warden stood beside Ischarus and motioned for the captain to join them. Two more guards advanced out of the circle. One of them appeared to be decorated with high honor, and Ischarus assumed he was the personal bodyguard of the warden. The second guard who stepped forward had a large key ring full of keys attached to a metal grommet in his belt. Once the five people were situated in the center of the guards, the guard with the set of keys lifted a single black rod that measured a mere foot long. He touched each of the smaller group within the circle of guards with the rod, saying “Parzuhs Ahn-takrass” as he touched each person including himself. One by one each of the inner group became translucent and appeared as though they were composed of a misty air rather than solid matter.

Seeing the beginning of the jailing take effect, one of the guards in the outside circle lifted up a six inch gray and white rod made of marble. Setting one end of the rod upon the floor and holding the other end in his hand this guard spoke three simple words. “Biturbign con-Fustle.” A small hole opened in the floor immediately below the five whose bodies had been recently transformed into a far less substantial substance. The five in the center hung over the hole and did not immediately fall through the ground.

Once the hole was opened, the guard with the marble rod stood up and lifted a second rod into the air. With a smile toward Ischarus and those around him he gripped the foot-long tapered ivory wand and spoke. “Shoosh dahs-Cricknohn.” A small gust of wind originated above the five and began to blow down through the hole in the floor.

Ischarus immediately felt the uncontrollable movement as the wind blew his insubstantial body into the hole that had opened underneath his feet. His stomach began to turn as he instinctively fought against the movement. There was nothing he could do, however. His insubstantial body of vapor could not resist the gust of air. As his body struggled to understand what was happening around him, he and the others around him descended into the depths below. Ischarus watched the guards around him as he descended and before too long he could only look up at the floor that had now become his ceiling. The hole above him sealed itself as magically as it had appeared and he found himself in darkness.

It was the voice of the warden that Ischarus next heard. Warden Farette’s voice did not sound normal, however. It sounded to Ischarus as if the warden was speaking through water to talk to him. “Ischarus, wish yourself to be solid once more and you will be freed of your condition.” 

Regardless of how the warden spoke, Ischarus had gotten the message. He mentally focused on reorganizing himself into a solid body and he could feel himself getting cold. As his body took its original shape he could feel the cool and damp air around him. His body took solid shape and he could see the faint light of the torches hung along the wall of the cellblock. Once he was solid again it took his eyes a minute to adjust to the limited light. Eventually he was able to focus once more. “You do that often?” Ischarus spoke as he tried to swallow the nauseous feeling that was slowly creeping up his throat.

The guard with the rods spoke with humor in his voice. “You get used to the feeling and the movement. If you spend any time in our jail you’ll get used to it, too.”

Ischarus shook his head as the warden stepped down the corridor. “The cell that you have requested is this way, Ischarus. Three floors down.”

Ischarus spoke with hesitation, fearing the answer of his captors. “Am I going to have to do that three more times, then?” 

Warden Farette chuckled as he replied. “No, Ischarus. Now that we are below ground we use stairs. The means of transporting you through the magic rods are simply to ensure that if anyone manages to break out of their cell they cannot escape the underground prison. The worst that they can do is to travel the many levels of the cellblock and inflict havoc upon the incarcerated.”

As they walked, Ischarus asked another question. “So, if prisoners are transported that way every time and all it takes is to wish yourself to be solid, what prevents a prisoner from wishing himself solid too early? Wouldn’t he then drop to the ground earlier than the rest and potentially set himself to hurt the guards as they solidify?”

The warden stopped and looked back to Ischarus. “You should remember, Ischarus, that as of this moment you are a prisoner. Asking questions like that will not earn you trust with the guards in this place. You are not here on a tour, and until the captain here deems you worthy of release you should remember your place.”

Captain Jacobseille answered Ischarus’ question. “The solution is rather ingenious, actually. You no doubt noticed that to us the hole appeared to be completely open in the floor. Yet, if you were to ask any of the guards up above they will tell you that the hole was not complete. If anything, the hole was a mere shadow of existence within the floor. Thus, if a prisoner wishes to materialize too early, they could find themselves trying to solidify in the floor. If that were to happen, the magic of the spell is designed to automatically expel them violently to the floor below. They would likely be rendered with a significant injury and left unconscious. If they do manage to wait until they have cleared the hole in the floor, then they would fall as rapidly as would be expected of any solid body materializing several feet above solid ground. They would fall to the ground below and likely be injured. Even still, if they do manage to land on their feet free of injury then our guards can rest easy in the knowledge that as long as they maintain their more spiritual nature they cannot be harmed. They need merely separate and force the prisoner to choose one of them to wait and materialize. Any guard that can get far enough from the prisoner to safely materialize can do so and come to apprehend the freed prisoner. Once the prisoner is apprehended the rest of the guards can solidify in safety. It really is a nearly fool-proof process.”

Ischarus and the guards walked slowly until they came to a flight of stairs. They descended the stairs until the warden indicated that they had gone far enough and opened a door to the proper cellblock. Ischarus walked silently toward his cell, knowing that if his plan had any hope of working he must maintain the image of a caught prisoner.

Ischarus was shown his cell. The guard who had all of the keys opened the door for Ischarus and then secured it behind him. Once the warden was satisfied, Ischarus was left in silence. As Ischarus gripped the cell bars along the hall, he noticed something across the hall. A man rested on his cot directly across from where he gripped the iron bars. Ischarus smiled as he noted that the man had flame red hair. Surely this was Grick, the one that had brought this situation upon him. 

Ischarus could feel an anger building inside him. He struggled inside himself to suppress this anger, knowing that composure was the only hope he had of getting out of his current situation without any doubt of his freedom. He looked down at his right hand. It was turning a light blue shade and he could feel an anger burning deep inside of him. The feeling of energy that he had felt only minutes prior when his friends had come with him to enter the prison had returned. He tried to move his fingers but he found that they were stiff and beginning to freeze to the bars of his cell. Panic quickly pushed the anger from his mind and he brought his left hand over to grasp his right hand. He planned to use his body heat to warm up his right hand. As his left hand touched the bar he realized that both the bar and the hand felt cold as if they were frozen. Ischarus paused for a moment and felt the rest of the bars near where he was standing. He discovered that they remained a normal temperature.

Ischarus could hear a chuckle from across the hallway. He responded in a bitter tone. “Did you do this to me, Grick?” His voice raise into a yell as he tried to get his hand free from where it was frozen to the bar.

Grick only laughed and pushed his long red hair out of his eyes. “No, but I wish I had. It gives my heart joy to see you suffer like the Provenience-thieving dog that you are!” Grick sneered and rubbed his fingers together quickly. Soon he had another one of his invisible balls of force and he took aim across the dark hallway. Ischarus saw the attack coming and worked hard to free his hand from the bar. His fingers now stretched free, but his palm was still stuck fast to the steel cell bar.

This time, Grick landed a successful attack. Ischarus was knocked back from the cell door and he could feel the skin on the palm of his right hand tear away. He quickly glanced up to the bar and saw that he had left a significant chunk of his skin stuck to the bar. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his own hand. The nausea from Grick’s attack had begun to take effect much like it had done earlier on Charis and the town guard. He bent over onto his knees and began to dry heave.

Grick could only laugh as he watched Ischarus fall prey to his magical assault. “I’ve got more where that came from you weak human dog. None of you can withstand the greatness of the dragon born. My father dragon will one day amass a new army and take Quehalost by storm. Your intrusion into his plan will only delay the inevitable. It won’t be long before we have slain the Provenience you stole from us and a new one is brought to him. Then you humans will fear my father dragon and his army before him. Quehalost will fall into the control of my dragon father. Then we shall come into Tongra and strike down this place.”

Ischarus’ body passed through one more cycle of dry heaves upon the floor and then he rested his head on the cool stone floor beneath him. Ischarus began to slowly laugh as the magical sickness from Grick’s attack began to wear off. Although he was laughing, he did not have the strength to look towards his opponent.

Grick looked insulted as Ischarus laughed. “What are you laughing at, human dog?

Ischarus slowly stood to his feet. As the magical sickness wore off, the pain from his hand tore through his mind. He struggled to keep from shrieking in pain and showing himself weak. He turned to Grick and approached the cell bars once more. This time he was careful not to touch them out of fear of having a recurrence of the last incident. “I am laughing,” Ischarus commented bravely through the intense pain of his right hand, “Because you think I am human! My silver father dragon would get quite a laugh at your stupidity you son of a greedy red! You cannot beat me from in here. You cannot further your father dragon’s weak cause from behind these bars. You have failed in your quest! That comment even assumes that the pitiful excuse of a task you were on in the first place could even be called a quest!” By the time Ischarus had finished speaking he was yelling. The yelling was not out of anger, but rather an attempt to hide the intense pain from the wound on his hand.

Grick raged from his side of the cellblock. “My father dragon’s cause is not weak! Once we have killed the Provenience that you stole from us and retrieved a suitable female to become the new Provenience in her place then you will see. The force of my father dragon will go unquenched! You shall not stop him!”

Ischarus could see Grick rubbing his fingers together again. He would have to work fast before taking another attack. “So that is why you have come you foul-smelling fire-breathing offspring? You have come into this land to kill my friend and to kidnap another?”

Grick howled in rage once more. “I have come to kill the sacrifice that you stole from my father dragon and to bring into effect a new time of dragon fear to this land and to Quehalost! Even if you keep me in prison my friends will succeed!”

Grick launched another one of his attacks and Ischarus welcomed the attack solidly in the chest. Ischarus was knocked back several steps and once more collapsed onto the floor. As he hit the floor, the sound of a breaking bone echoed through the cellblock. Ischarus wasn’t sure whether to cry in pain over his hand, the pain that he felt as his leg snapped when he tried to brace himself for the fall, or whether to throw up once more from the magical sickness.

The warden and his guards moved in on Ischarus and Grick. They raced down the hallway, revealing their hidden presence to Grick. Warden Farette pointed to the guard with the keys and said, “Get that door open and prepare him for transport. He needs medical attention, and I want him interviewed immediately after the healer is summoned.”

The warden spun on his heals and looked at Captain Jacobseille. “Captain, draw your crossbow and aim it at the one called Grick. If he even breathes in a threatening way to the other prisoner or us … shoot him. It can be on my authority and record if you shoot him well enough to kill.”

The warden looked to the other guard who had the black rod. “Go summon more guards. I want this place swarming with guards!” He pointed to Ischarus and said, “I want him brought to the infirmary immediately and the healer summoned. Bring people to help move him.” The warden pointed to Grick. “And I want a large armed party to take that one to an interrogation room. Bind his hands twice so that he cannot use them in his mystical ways. I want him safe for interrogation in fifteen minutes. And prepare the needles in case he won’t talk.”

As Ischarus lay in pain, he turned his head to dry heave. He knew the sickness would pass. The broken leg would heal. All of this was finally worth it. He now knew an important piece of information. Grick was not alone, and the target was Charis. Semeion had to be prepared for this. The father dragon would not be stopped easily.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 23, 2006)

Rhema stopped short of the temple, causing Semeion and Charis to stop half-way up the steps.  Charis saw the motion and turned to question her friend.  “Rhema, aren’t you coming?”  The tone of her voice betrayed disappointment at the possibility of being separated further.  

Semeion turned slightly so that he could see Rhema over Charis.  He had stopped a few steps above Charis and as a result his head was slightly above Charis’ head.  “Yeah, Rhema.  We’re just going to be a minute getting that healer out of the temple.  And we could probably use your help in convincing him of the necessity involved.”

Rhema shook her head slowly.  “Not this time, guys.  You two head into the temple and do what Ischarus wanted from you.  As for me, Ischarus has something different for me to accomplish.”

Charis smiled.  “Listen, Rhema.  We’ve already seen that the streets aren’t safe today.  Why don’t you come in here and we’ll get the temple healer we saw earlier and we’ll be on our way.  We’ll come with you to your stop and be back at the prison in no time.  Ischarus isn’t in any danger and I doubt that he’s going anywhere.  And if we’re together, we can keep each other safe.”

Rhema smiled at Charis’ pleasant suggestion.  It had persuasion written all over it, but Rhema wouldn’t violate Ischarus’ orders.  Charis could persuade her until the sky turned black and Rhema wouldn’t seek her charge until these two went into the temple.  “Ischarus told me I have to go alone, Charis.  I know the streets aren’t safe, but in truth they likely aren’t safe for you, Charis.  Anyone who is seeking us is seeking you, Charis.  I think Semeion and I can pass through the streets fairly securely without being recognized by anyone looking for you.  Now this isn’t the place to have any more of this discussion, so you two go inside and I’ll meet you back at the prison.”

Charis descended the steps and embraced Rhema in a brief hug.  “You be safe, Rhema.  If you notice anything suspicious, get yourself to a guard before a fight begins.  We don’t need to have the two of you in a prison before the day is over.”

Rhema returned the hug.  “Of course.  And you two do the same.  Try to avoid fighting.  It’d be best if we stay out of trouble until we get Ischarus free.  If we get into trouble it’ll likely only cast a bad shadow upon Ischarus’ case.”

The women separated and Charis ascended up the steps to Semeion.  The pair turned around and climbed the rest of the way up into the temple.  Soon Rhema was left alone in the streets of Fingerdale.

Inside the temple, the acolyte that had greeted them earlier looked startled to see the pair return.  “You both have returned so quickly?  Is there something wrong with the service that you received?”

Charis smiled politely and looked the acolyte straight into the eye.  “No.  Actually the service was so ideal that we have further use for him.  We would like to see the healer at his earliest convenience.”

The acolyte nodded in understand and added, “Can I at least show you to a room, then?”

Semeion shook his head in the negative.  “No.  To be honest we are in a bit of a hurry and you could say that this is a matter of the city guard.  His presence is needed at the prison.  The friend we were in here with earlier is in need of some help that only he can provide.  You see, he examined my friend here and his analysis of what he thought was wrong with her is valuable information in a case the prison warden is studying.”

The acolyte snapped to full alertness and gave Semeion his full attention at the mention of the prison and the warden.  Although he didn’t quite follow the full request, he knew what to do.  “Yes, sir.  I will go find the one who was with you a bit ago.  Please stay here until my return.”

The acolyte was gone only a few minutes when the sound of bare feet hustling along the ground could be heard coming in their direction.  The acolyte turned the nearest corner in the hallway to the right and the healer followed him close behind.  Soon they entered the entranceway and the acolyte added, “My apologies, but I could not remember the official reason for his aid, but I did tell him that it was urgent and a matter of the local guard. I assumed that you both would be able to fill him in on the details more appropriately.”

Semeion nodded and Charis dismissed the acolyte.  “Certainly, and I am sure that you have other duties to attend to.”

The healer took the hint from Charis and dismissed the acolyte formally.  “Our acolytes pride themselves on being able to remain busy at all times as devotion to their god.  Besides, we do understand here that not all matters are intended for the ears of everyone.”

The acolyte took the hint and stepped away.  As he did, another customer opened the outside door and the acolyte stepped away even further to greet the newest visitor.

The healer spoke softly so as to not be heard by anyone else in the entryway.  “So, in what way can I be of service to you and the city guard?”

Semeion smiled, remembering the anger that had flowed through his body earlier when he had first met this healer.  “I don’t mean to be rude, but our friend is in trouble.  Might we explain on the way to the prison?”

The healer was obviously taken by the request.  “You want me to follow you to the prison?  Wouldn’t it be a simple enough solution to have a member of the guard come here?

Charis looked the healer directly in the eye and spoke softly with all her charm.  “Sir, I understand that your time is valuable.  I really do.  But the one who caused my injuries was apprehended after we left here and my friend was involved in his arrest.  The information that you can give the guard about my wounds is vital to setting my friend free.  You would be helping an innocent man.  Certainly your superiors understand the importance of such a responsibility?”

The healer looked at Charis for a second, mulling over her speech.  “If you can give me a second, I’ll go clear my schedule for the afternoon and alert the acolytes of my departure.”

Semeion smiled at Charis’ charm as she spoke once again.  “Certainly, so long as you are willing to help the cause of my friend we will wait for you.  Shall we remain here?”

The healer nodded and then turned down the hall in the direction that he came.  His bare feet slapped against the cool stone floor as the acolyte followed more slowly, leading the newcomer he had greeted to a healing room of his own.

[Sblock=Speech-Free Color Section]
Rhema stopped short of the temple, causing Semeion and Charis to stop half-way up the steps. Charis saw the motion and turned to question her friend. “Rhema, aren’t you coming?” The tone of her voice betrayed disappointment at the possibility of being separated further. 

Semeion turned slightly so that he could see Rhema over Charis. He had stopped a few steps above Charis and as a result his head was slightly above Charis’ head. “Yeah, Rhema. We’re just going to be a minute getting that healer out of the temple. And we could probably use your help in convincing him of the necessity involved.”

Rhema shook her head slowly. “Not this time, guys. You two head into the temple and do what Ischarus wanted from you. As for me, Ischarus has something different for me to accomplish.”

Charis smiled. “Listen, Rhema. We’ve already seen that the streets aren’t safe today. Why don’t you come in here and we’ll get the temple healer we saw earlier and we’ll be on our way. We’ll come with you to your stop and be back at the prison in no time. Ischarus isn’t in any danger and I doubt that he’s going anywhere. And if we’re together, we can keep each other safe.”

Rhema smiled at Charis’ pleasant suggestion. It had persuasion written all over it, but Rhema wouldn’t violate Ischarus’ orders. Charis could persuade her until the sky turned black and Rhema wouldn’t seek her charge until these two went into the temple. “Ischarus told me I have to go alone, Charis. I know the streets aren’t safe, but in truth they likely aren’t safe for you, Charis. Anyone who is seeking us is seeking you, Charis. I think Semeion and I can pass through the streets fairly securely without being recognized by anyone looking for you. Now this isn’t the place to have any more of this discussion, so you two go inside and I’ll meet you back at the prison.”

Charis descended the steps and embraced Rhema in a brief hug. “You be safe, Rhema. If you notice anything suspicious, get yourself to a guard before a fight begins. We don’t need to have the two of you in a prison before the day is over.”

Rhema returned the hug. “Of course. And you two do the same. Try to avoid fighting. It’d be best if we stay out of trouble until we get Ischarus free. If we get into trouble it’ll likely only cast a bad shadow upon Ischarus’ case.”

The women separated and Charis ascended up the steps to Semeion. The pair turned around and climbed the rest of the way up into the temple. Soon Rhema was left alone in the streets of Fingerdale.

Inside the temple, the acolyte that had greeted them earlier looked startled to see the pair return. “You both have returned so quickly? Is there something wrong with the service that you received?”

Charis smiled politely and looked the acolyte straight into the eye. “No. Actually the service was so ideal that we have further use for him. We would like to see the healer at his earliest convenience.”

The acolyte nodded in understand and added, “Can I at least show you to a room, then?”

Semeion shook his head in the negative. “No. To be honest we are in a bit of a hurry and you could say that this is a matter of the city guard. His presence is needed at the prison. The friend we were in here with earlier is in need of some help that only he can provide. You see, he examined my friend here and his analysis of what he thought was wrong with her is valuable information in a case the prison warden is studying.”

The acolyte snapped to full alertness and gave Semeion his full attention at the mention of the prison and the warden. Although he didn’t quite follow the full request, he knew what to do. “Yes, sir. I will go find the one who was with you a bit ago. Please stay here until my return.”

The acolyte was gone only a few minutes when the sound of bare feet hustling along the ground could be heard coming in their direction. The acolyte turned the nearest corner in the hallway to the right and the healer followed him close behind. Soon they entered the entranceway and the acolyte added, “My apologies, but I could not remember the official reason for his aid, but I did tell him that it was urgent and a matter of the local guard. I assumed that you both would be able to fill him in on the details more appropriately.”

Semeion nodded and Charis dismissed the acolyte. “Certainly, and I am sure that you have other duties to attend to.”

The healer took the hint from Charis and dismissed the acolyte formally. “Our acolytes pride themselves on being able to remain busy at all times as devotion to their god. Besides, we do understand here that not all matters are intended for the ears of everyone.”

The acolyte took the hint and stepped away. As he did, another customer opened the outside door and the acolyte stepped away even further to greet the newest visitor.

The healer spoke softly so as to not be heard by anyone else in the entryway. “So, in what way can I be of service to you and the city guard?”

Semeion smiled, remembering the anger that had flowed through his body earlier when he had first met this healer. “I don’t mean to be rude, but our friend is in trouble. Might we explain on the way to the prison?”

The healer was obviously taken by the request. “You want me to follow you to the prison? Wouldn’t it be a simple enough solution to have a member of the guard come here?

Charis looked the healer directly in the eye and spoke softly with all her charm. “Sir, I understand that your time is valuable. I really do. But the one who caused my injuries was apprehended after we left here and my friend was involved in his arrest. The information that you can give the guard about my wounds is vital to setting my friend free. You would be helping an innocent man. Certainly your superiors understand the importance of such a responsibility?”

The healer looked at Charis for a second, mulling over her speech. “If you can give me a second, I’ll go clear my schedule for the afternoon and alert the acolytes of my departure.”

Semeion smiled at Charis’ charm as she spoke once again. “Certainly, so long as you are willing to help the cause of my friend we will wait for you. Shall we remain here?”

The healer nodded and then turned down the hall in the direction that he came. His bare feet slapped against the cool stone floor as the acolyte followed more slowly, leading the newcomer he had greeted to a healing room of his own.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jul 30, 2006)

Rhema mouthed the words that Ischarus had spoken to her earlier.  “I have loved you for some time, Rhema…”

Ischarus’ closing words pounded through Rhema’s head as she thought about the trouble Ischarus had gotten himself into during the day.  She knew Ischarus was innocent.  But, she also knew that the legal system didn’t always get it right.  Sure, the majority of cases came to a proper conclusion; but Rhema also knew that with the right kind of bribe Lord Ironblood and his legal system could be bought.  She’d rather face terrors in the underground and on the other side of the mountains again than risk Ischarus’ freedom at the hands of a judge.

She mouthed more of Ischarus’ speech.  “We have flirted for years, Rhema.”

That much was obviously true.  Rhema couldn’t deny how she felt when Ischarus finally was able to put into words what had been happening over the course of the past few years.  Each foray into Quehalost had been much more than a simple quest against a ravaging land churning with evil.  Each trip was an intertwining of their spirits.  When they journeyed they drew closer.  Ischarus often exchanged quips with Rhema as they journeyed.  With the completion of each quest the exhilaration of bringing the oppressed to freedom had brought them closer.  They were on a common path and had similar goals in life.  They had the same ambition and saw in each other the ability to overcome their own weaknesses.  It was only natural that things should end up this way.

Rhema crouched across the street from the temple watching people come and go.  A slight smile crossed her face as she tried to guess how many of the patrons of the temple were true Drakontos living among humans without anyone else’s knowledge.  She could never have guessed that Ischarus himself had Draconic heritage without being told.  Even after he had told her his secret she found it hard to grasp.  It had now been two years and she still found it amazing that people with a tiny amount of dragon blood within them lived indistinguishably among the rest of the regular citizens of the land.  Of course, many of them had magical talents and Rhema largely suspected that a majority of Fingerdale’s resident mages were really Drakontos.  That was a fact that she couldn’t prove.  From what Ischarus said, some of them may not even know that they were Drakontos to begin with.

As the temple doors opened once more, Rhema smiled again as she watched Semeion and Charis heading away from the temple with the healer from earlier in the day.  The healer looked as though he had come willingly.  The trio talked in a friendly manner as they moved past Rhema’s position on their way to the jailhouse.  Although they passed within ten feet of where Rhema crouched, she went undetected.

Again Ischarus’ words penetrated deeply into her thoughts as her lips brought them back to life.  “Fear of losing each other on a quest has kept us apart.  Semeion and Rhema have taught me that fear is foolish in the presence of love.”

Her mind raced as Semeion and Charis walked past together.  The two of them had bonded from the first moment that Semeion had laid eyes upon Charis in Quehalost.  Even now their growing love for each other was obvious in the way that they walked beside one another.  Semeion walked as if able to protect her while Charis walked as though enjoying a great security.  

Rhema stood once the trio were past her position.  She stepped slightly into the street and turned to watch them walk away.  Her head shook slowly from side to side.  “It is highly ironic that Charis may well be the reason that Ischarus is in jail,”  she muttered under her breath as the pair turned a corner and disappeared out of view.  She continued to speak to herself as she allowed her thoughts to find expression in the real world.  “Ischarus is in trouble because he was fighting Charis’ past.  Yet without Charis, Ischarus would’ve likely not yet declared his love for me.” 

She continued to mutter as she dealt with the feelings inside.  It was a horrible irony that left her a touch on the jealous side amidst being thankful. She returned once again to the particular set of words that had sparked her imagination.  “I have loved you for some time, Rhema”

Rhema’s mind leapt over the jealousy and back to the thought that had started it all.  She turned to the temple and walked up the stairs.  The time for dwelling upon her emotions was now past her.  Ischarus would be free one way or the other.  Hopefully, things would go smoothly and she would quickly find the one that she was looking for.  With a little luck, Brandt would be in the temple as she climbed the steps.  She rehearsed Ischarus’ instructions once more as she approached the doors.  “Now go and find a man named Brandt.  You will find him frequenting the temple sometime this day.  Ask the priests there to identify him to you and tell him a Drakontos needs his expertise.”  Ischarus’ words ran through her mind as the acolyte greeted her once inside the door.

Rhema replied softly to the acolyte as her mind came back to reality.  “Yes, I am looking for a man who worships frequently here.  His name is Brandt, although I will confess to knowing only his name and not his face.  That is why I need your help in finding him.”

The acolyte looked stunned for a moment.  The man in front of Rhema said absolutely nothing for several seconds.  Rhema couldn’t help but feel odd before replying again.  “Have I said something wrong?”

The acolyte shook his head from side to side and extended his hand as if to invite her to walk down the hallway in the opposite direction that they had gone when they arrived the first time to heal Charis.  Once they had cleared the entrance, the acolyte spoke very softly.  “The name Brandt is not often spoken here in this temple.  In fact, I have only heard that name spoken once.  He is not one of the regular healers and only a select few know his name.  Most who know his name already know where to find him.  But I do know of the one that you seek.  Unfortunately, he is in the middle of his typical meditation time at present.  If you are willing to wait here in the hallway, shall I come back in an hour or so and lead you to him?”

Rhema looked a bit agitated at the prospect of having to wait so long.  She knew that Charis and Semeion had completed their task so easily and yet she would have to wait.  If Ischarus needed this Brandt’s help quickly it simply wasn’t about to happen.

Rhema replied quite curtly.  She allowed her impatience and agitation to show through only a bit, however.  It wasn’t the acolyte’s fault that her timing was less than perfect.  “An hour?  I have to wait an hour to see this Brandt?” 

The acolyte replied in a tone that demonstrated a significant comfort level with informing people that they will have to wait for their meeting.  “Ma’am, the master that you seek enjoys five hours of meditation a day.  I know waiting an hour can seem like a significant amount of time for you.  However, considering that the one you seek has already been in meditation for at least four hours I should think that you would consider yourself lucky to have come when you did and not a few hours earlier in the day.  Besides, one does not arouse a master from their meditations without drawing wrath from the superiors of the order.  It is part of my training to learn, model, and teach patience.”

Rhema looked at the poor acolyte and had mercy upon him.  She even managed to lift the left corner of her mouth up into a smile.  “Very well, then.  It would seem that my desire for a quick resolution must bow to your lesson in patience.  If it is the only way to gain an audience with Brandt, then I shall wait.”

The acolyte smiled and politely bowed while backing away from Rhema.  “Very well, ma’am.  I shall return in about an hour’s time.”

It was nearly an hour and a half later that the acolyte returned down the hallway to find Rhema.  By this time Rhema was actively pacing up and down the hallway.  She was attempting to pass the time without being too irritated at fate for slowing down the already slow process of freeing Ischarus from the prison system of Lord Ironblood.  As she saw the acolyte she inhaled so as to yell at the acolyte for being late.  

Fortunately for the acolyte he was prepared and he beat her to the punch.  “The master that you seek has notified me that he is done with his meditations and prepared to see you when you are ready.”

Rhema’s anger began to deflate as she finally seemed to make headway in the quest that Ischarus felt so necessary.  The acolyte led her down the hall a few paces and then showed her the door that led to the meditation chambers that Brandt was apparently using.  Before leaving the acolyte felt compelled to offer up one more piece of information.  “When you are prepared, feel free to open the door.  The one that you seek is waiting for you inside.”

The acolyte backed up a few steps while bowing once more to Rhema out of an air of service.  Dismissing the acolyte, Rhema turned to the door and placed her hand upon the handle.  She jerked her hand back immediately upon feeling the touch of the metal in her hand.  The handle was nearly ice cold.  Rhema turned to question the acolyte but as she did she discovered that the acolyte had spent little time returning to his post.  The acolyte had all but disappeared as the sounds of his quickened footsteps could be heard down the hall.

Rhema sighed heavily as she realized that it seemed like this day was plotting against her.  She remembered the urgency in Ischarus’ voice as he told her to find Brandt and she remembered his proclamation of his love for her.  Knowing the pain that would follow, she clenched her fingers into a tight fist until she had squeezed so hard that she could no longer feel the tips of her fingers.  She quickly released both hands and gripped the frozen door handle.  With a sudden thrust of all her might she twisted it.  The door popped open just as feeling returned to her hand and the deeply chilling effect took over.  Once the feeling began to return to her fingers the pain of the cold door handle quickly followed.  Rhema released the door handle and quickly stepped inside before it was able to swing shut on its own once more.

Rhema no sooner jumped into the room when she was greeted by an ominously full and deep voice, “You have been given two chances to leave, non-Drakontos.  Now you must face my wrath!”

Rhema immediately recognized the creature that occupied the room.  It had the head of a dragon, but was not quite as large.  Its body and limbs were far more skinny and flexible that that of a dragon, although the claws and the teeth of the beast still looked plenty capable of ripping through Rhema’s flesh.  The white scales of the reptilian beast glistened with an icy blue tint when the light caught the right angle of reflection.  These reflective scales glistened along the entire body and limbs of the creature.  As Rhema paused to take the creature in, the beast unfurled its leathery white wings.

There was no doubt in Rhema’s mind what the creature was.  It was certainly a drake, although she could figure no reason for keeping such a creature within the walls of the temple.  Drakes were the smaller cousins of dragons and were less sociable than even dragons.  Furthermore, drakes were not known for being overly housebroken.  Each of these thoughts leapt through Rhema’s mind as she searched for the strength in her mind to fight if it would come to blows.

The drake roared again and an icy breath passed out from its throat.  “Your courage is remarkable, but you are impure and the knowledge of my existence must be purged from your mind by death!”

Suddenly Rhema’s mind leapt forth with a plan.  “I come in the name of Ischarus, a Drakontos.  Ischarus has sent me to ask for your help.”

The drake reared its snake-like head back and appeared to position itself so that a lunge could be performed at any moment.  “What is Ischarus to you? What is Ischarus to me?  This Ischarus has sent you to certain death!”

Before she could think about her reply, Rhema yelled toward the drake.  “Ischarus has sent me out of his love to such a task.  He would not have sent me to his temple if he thought I could not win against you!”  Her mind focused and found the power within herself that she sought.  She lifted her hand to attempt a strike preemptively when suddenly she saw a man in the far left corner that she had not seen before.  He seemed to have somehow magically appeared out of nothingness.

As the man appeared, the drake before her began to waver and in a moment the creature was gone from sight.  Rhema stood in awe as she harmlessly released and reabsorbed the energy that her mind had gathered.  “But … I don’t understand.”

The man spoke softly as he stopped leaning against the wall and approached Rhema. “Of course you don’t, child!  How could you?  My presence in this temple is known only to Drakontai.  Occasionally evil Drakontai are able to stumble upon my position.  This is why the illusion of the drake is necessary.  Anyone entering this section of the hallway who cannot be sensed as having pure and good draconic heritage must be tested.  There is only one acceptable answer to the challenge that will prevent you from being destroyed in combat with me.”

Rhema’s eyes grew wide as the man spoke.  As the man saw Rhema’s reaction he smiled.  “The only acceptable answer that allows you to remain alive in the presence of my illusions is the answer of love from a Drakontos.  Of course I have no ability to know whether the love is real or simply stated to pass this test.  You have given the proper answer and you have withstood the perseverance tests of the wait and the cold door.  By the way, I am Brandt.  Apparently we need to talk.  I assume this much is true since your friend Ischarus must be in trouble to have sent a non-Drakontos to seek me out.  Normally, I would have expected him to come himself.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Rhema mouthed the words that Ischarus had spoken to her earlier. “I have loved you for some time, Rhema…”

Ischarus’ closing words pounded through Rhema’s head as she thought about the trouble Ischarus had gotten himself into during the day. She knew Ischarus was innocent. But, she also knew that the legal system didn’t always get it right. Sure, the majority of cases came to a proper conclusion; but Rhema also knew that with the right kind of bribe Lord Ironblood and his legal system could be bought. She’d rather face terrors in the underground and on the other side of the mountains again than risk Ischarus’ freedom at the hands of a judge.

She mouthed more of Ischarus’ speech. “We have flirted for years, Rhema.”

That much was obviously true. Rhema couldn’t deny how she felt when Ischarus finally was able to put into words what had been happening over the course of the past few years. Each foray into Quehalost had been much more than a simple quest against a ravaging land churning with evil. Each trip was an intertwining of their spirits. When they journeyed they drew closer. Ischarus often exchanged quips with Rhema as they journeyed. With the completion of each quest the exhilaration of bringing the oppressed to freedom had brought them closer. They were on a common path and had similar goals in life. They had the same ambition and saw in each other the ability to overcome their own weaknesses. It was only natural that things should end up this way.

Rhema crouched across the street from the temple watching people come and go. A slight smile crossed her face as she tried to guess how many of the patrons of the temple were true Drakontos living among humans without anyone else’s knowledge. She could never have guessed that Ischarus himself had Draconic heritage without being told. Even after he had told her his secret she found it hard to grasp. It had now been two years and she still found it amazing that people with a tiny amount of dragon blood within them lived indistinguishably among the rest of the regular citizens of the land. Of course, many of them had magical talents and Rhema largely suspected that a majority of Fingerdale’s resident mages were really Drakontos. That was a fact that she couldn’t prove. From what Ischarus said, some of them may not even know that they were Drakontos to begin with.

As the temple doors opened once more, Rhema smiled again as she watched Semeion and Charis heading away from the temple with the healer from earlier in the day. The healer looked as though he had come willingly. The trio talked in a friendly manner as they moved past Rhema’s position on their way to the jailhouse. Although they passed within ten feet of where Rhema crouched, she went undetected.

Again Ischarus’ words penetrated deeply into her thoughts as her lips brought them back to life. “Fear of losing each other on a quest has kept us apart. Semeion and Rhema have taught me that fear is foolish in the presence of love.”

Her mind raced as Semeion and Charis walked past together. The two of them had bonded from the first moment that Semeion had laid eyes upon Charis in Quehalost. Even now their growing love for each other was obvious in the way that they walked beside one another. Semeion walked as if able to protect her while Charis walked as though enjoying a great security. 

Rhema stood once the trio were past her position. She stepped slightly into the street and turned to watch them walk away. Her head shook slowly from side to side. “It is highly ironic that Charis may well be the reason that Ischarus is in jail,” she muttered under her breath as the pair turned a corner and disappeared out of view. She continued to speak to herself as she allowed her thoughts to find expression in the real world. “Ischarus is in trouble because he was fighting Charis’ past. Yet without Charis, Ischarus would’ve likely not yet declared his love for me.” 

She continued to mutter as she dealt with the feelings inside. It was a horrible irony that left her a touch on the jealous side amidst being thankful. She returned once again to the particular set of words that had sparked her imagination. “I have loved you for some time, Rhema”

Rhema’s mind leapt over the jealousy and back to the thought that had started it all. She turned to the temple and walked up the stairs. The time for dwelling upon her emotions was now past her. Ischarus would be free one way or the other. Hopefully, things would go smoothly and she would quickly find the one that she was looking for. With a little luck, Brandt would be in the temple as she climbed the steps. She rehearsed Ischarus’ instructions once more as she approached the doors. “Now go and find a man named Brandt. You will find him frequenting the temple sometime this day. Ask the priests there to identify him to you and tell him a Drakontos needs his expertise.” Ischarus’ words ran through her mind as the acolyte greeted her once inside the door.

Rhema replied softly to the acolyte as her mind came back to reality. “Yes, I am looking for a man who worships frequently here. His name is Brandt, although I will confess to knowing only his name and not his face. That is why I need your help in finding him.”

The acolyte looked stunned for a moment. The man in front of Rhema said absolutely nothing for several seconds. Rhema couldn’t help but feel odd before replying again. “Have I said something wrong?”

The acolyte shook his head from side to side and extended his hand as if to invite her to walk down the hallway in the opposite direction that they had gone when they arrived the first time to heal Charis. Once they had cleared the entrance, the acolyte spoke very softly. “The name Brandt is not often spoken here in this temple. In fact, I have only heard that name spoken once. He is not one of the regular healers and only a select few know his name. Most who know his name already know where to find him. But I do know of the one that you seek. Unfortunately, he is in the middle of his typical meditation time at present. If you are willing to wait here in the hallway, shall I come back in an hour or so and lead you to him?”

Rhema looked a bit agitated at the prospect of having to wait so long. She knew that Charis and Semeion had completed their task so easily and yet she would have to wait. If Ischarus needed this Brandt’s help quickly it simply wasn’t about to happen.

Rhema replied quite curtly. She allowed her impatience and agitation to show through only a bit, however. It wasn’t the acolyte’s fault that her timing was less than perfect. “An hour? I have to wait an hour to see this Brandt?” 

The acolyte replied in a tone that demonstrated a significant comfort level with informing people that they will have to wait for their meeting. “Ma’am, the master that you seek enjoys five hours of meditation a day. I know waiting an hour can seem like a significant amount of time for you. However, considering that the one you seek has already been in meditation for at least four hours I should think that you would consider yourself lucky to have come when you did and not a few hours earlier in the day. Besides, one does not arouse a master from their meditations without drawing wrath from the superiors of the order. It is part of my training to learn, model, and teach patience.”

Rhema looked at the poor acolyte and had mercy upon him. She even managed to lift the left corner of her mouth up into a smile. “Very well, then. It would seem that my desire for a quick resolution must bow to your lesson in patience. If it is the only way to gain an audience with Brandt, then I shall wait.”

The acolyte smiled and politely bowed while backing away from Rhema. “Very well, ma’am. I shall return in about an hour’s time.”

It was nearly an hour and a half later that the acolyte returned down the hallway to find Rhema. By this time Rhema was actively pacing up and down the hallway. She was attempting to pass the time without being too irritated at fate for slowing down the already slow process of freeing Ischarus from the prison system of Lord Ironblood. As she saw the acolyte she inhaled so as to yell at the acolyte for being late. 

Fortunately for the acolyte he was prepared and he beat her to the punch. “The master that you seek has notified me that he is done with his meditations and prepared to see you when you are ready.”

Rhema’s anger began to deflate as she finally seemed to make headway in the quest that Ischarus felt so necessary. The acolyte led her down the hall a few paces and then showed her the door that led to the meditation chambers that Brandt was apparently using. Before leaving the acolyte felt compelled to offer up one more piece of information. “When you are prepared, feel free to open the door. The one that you seek is waiting for you inside.”

The acolyte backed up a few steps while bowing once more to Rhema out of an air of service. Dismissing the acolyte, Rhema turned to the door and placed her hand upon the handle. She jerked her hand back immediately upon feeling the touch of the metal in her hand. The handle was nearly ice cold. Rhema turned to question the acolyte but as she did she discovered that the acolyte had spent little time returning to his post. The acolyte had all but disappeared as the sounds of his quickened footsteps could be heard down the hall.

Rhema sighed heavily as she realized that it seemed like this day was plotting against her. She remembered the urgency in Ischarus’ voice as he told her to find Brandt and she remembered his proclamation of his love for her. Knowing the pain that would follow, she clenched her fingers into a tight fist until she had squeezed so hard that she could no longer feel the tips of her fingers. She quickly released both hands and gripped the frozen door handle. With a sudden thrust of all her might she twisted it. The door popped open just as feeling returned to her hand and the deeply chilling effect took over. Once the feeling began to return to her fingers the pain of the cold door handle quickly followed. Rhema released the door handle and quickly stepped inside before it was able to swing shut on its own once more.

Rhema no sooner jumped into the room when she was greeted by an ominously full and deep voice, “You have been given two chances to leave, non-Drakontos. Now you must face my wrath!”

Rhema immediately recognized the creature that occupied the room. It had the head of a dragon, but was not quite as large. Its body and limbs were far more skinny and flexible that that of a dragon, although the claws and the teeth of the beast still looked plenty capable of ripping through Rhema’s flesh. The white scales of the reptilian beast glistened with an icy blue tint when the light caught the right angle of reflection. These reflective scales glistened along the entire body and limbs of the creature. As Rhema paused to take the creature in, the beast unfurled its leathery white wings.

There was no doubt in Rhema’s mind what the creature was. It was certainly a drake, although she could figure no reason for keeping such a creature within the walls of the temple. Drakes were the smaller cousins of dragons and were less sociable than even dragons. Furthermore, drakes were not known for being overly housebroken. Each of these thoughts leapt through Rhema’s mind as she searched for the strength in her mind to fight if it would come to blows.

The drake roared again and an icy breath passed out from its throat. “Your courage is remarkable, but you are impure and the knowledge of my existence must be purged from your mind by death!”

Suddenly Rhema’s mind leapt forth with a plan. “I come in the name of Ischarus, a Drakontos. Ischarus has sent me to ask for your help.”

The drake reared its snake-like head back and appeared to position itself so that a lunge could be performed at any moment. “What is Ischarus to you? What is Ischarus to me? This Ischarus has sent you to certain death!”

Before she could think about her reply, Rhema yelled toward the drake. “Ischarus has sent me out of his love to such a task. He would not have sent me to his temple if he thought I could not win against you!” Her mind focused and found the power within herself that she sought. She lifted her hand to attempt a strike preemptively when suddenly she saw a man in the far left corner that she had not seen before. He seemed to have somehow magically appeared out of nothingness.

As the man appeared, the drake before her began to waver and in a moment the creature was gone from sight. Rhema stood in awe as she harmlessly released and reabsorbed the energy that her mind had gathered. “But … I don’t understand.”

The man spoke softly as he stopped leaning against the wall and approached Rhema. “Of course you don’t, child! How could you? My presence in this temple is known only to Drakontai. Occasionally evil Drakontai are able to stumble upon my position. This is why the illusion of the drake is necessary. Anyone entering this section of the hallway who cannot be sensed as having pure and good draconic heritage must be tested. There is only one acceptable answer to the challenge that will prevent you from being destroyed in combat with me.”

Rhema’s eyes grew wide as the man spoke. As the man saw Rhema’s reaction he smiled. “The only acceptable answer that allows you to remain alive in the presence of my illusions is the answer of love from a Drakontos. Of course I have no ability to know whether the love is real or simply stated to pass this test. You have given the proper answer and you have withstood the perseverance tests of the wait and the cold door. By the way, I am Brandt. Apparently we need to talk. I assume this much is true since your friend Ischarus must be in trouble to have sent a non-Drakontos to seek me out. Normally, I would have expected him to come himself.”
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 11, 2006)

Rhema couldn’t help but to stare at Brandt as he spoke.  Her mind raced with the possibilities.  She knew that Ischarus had come from a different background and that his Drakontos heritage meant that she did not share in the typical upbringing that he had as a Drakontos.  But she had always considered herself to be close enough to Ischarus to be able to read his body language and tone well enough to interpret his meaning correctly.  However, as Brandt spoke she began to doubt her original instincts.  Had Ischarus really chosen the peculiar moment of his arrest to express a true love for her?  Or was Rhema merely fed the proper answer that she wanted to believe because it was the only way that would allow her to survive the encounter with Brandt?  Never before had she been so confused about the motivations of other people.

Rhema slurred under her breath just loud enough for Brandt to hear. “Curse Ischarus!”

Brandt cocked his head slightly to the right and wrinkled his thick eyebrows.  “I’m sorry?  Did you just curse the one who sent you here to find me?  I’m sorry, but I don’t think I understand.”

Rhema snapped back to reality, pushing her emotions to the back of her mind.  “Well, that’s no surprise.  I’m afraid that I don’t really understand anymore either.  But apparently that is part of the plan.  It’s part of Ischarus’ plan at least.  I don’t know what he’s thinking anymore.”

Brandt blink at the odd logic expressed and looked around the room.  He gestured with his right hand to a pair of padded chairs in the corner of the room.  The plush red velvet called out to Rhema as Brandt motioned toward them and she eagerly accepted his invitation.  As she sat, she found herself feeling as though the large oak frame and the plush velvet padding were going to swallow her completely.  When she looked over to Brandt it seemed as though the chair was just as large on him.  Either way, the chair was certainly comfortable if not large.

When Rhema looked as though she was comfortably seated, Brandt addressed her and invited her to continue to bring her thoughts to her lips.  “Why don’t you begin at the beginning, then?  You can start by telling me the story that leads up to why this Ischarus has sent you to find me.  Perhaps along the way we’ll discover what I can do for him?  And perhaps along I might discover what exactly I can do for you?”

Rhema paused and thought about where to begin.  Figuring that he need not know about the details that didn’t relate specifically to Ischarus, Rhema began to tell the tale from when the party had exited the temple for the first time earlier today and had chased Grick.  She had not told more than two sentences to Brandt before he lifted up a hand and motioned for her to stop.

Brandt loudly sucked in a large breath in through his nose and then exhaled just as loudly through his nose.  More softly he breathed in once more and spoke, “I think you have misinterpreted my request, madam.  The events that you describe happened today, correct?”

Rhema looked toward Brandt and replied with a confused tone.  “Well, yes. You wanted me to …”

Brandt interrupted Rhema’s sentence, knowing that she was merely trying to make sense of her confusion.  Brandt knew the reason for the confusion and needed no justification.  “I wanted you to explain your relationship to Ischarus, not necessarily the events that led him into the immediate circumstances surrounding Ischarus.”

Rhema looked even more confused.  “But, I’m not sure that we have the time for that tale.”

Brandt chuckled softly in a manner that informed Rhema that she had amused him – even if unintentionally.  “Madam, what is the name that Ischarus calls you so that I may speak informally with you?”

Rhema answered easily.  “Ischarus calls me Rhema.  All my friends call me Rhema.”

Brandt lifted his elbows so that they rested upon the immense arms of the chair and brought his hands together.  He aligned his fingertips and flexed his fingers against one another until his fingers were perpendicular to his hands.  He brought the paired index fingers directly in front of his mouth and spoke.  “Rhema, where is Ischarus that he is unable to seek me directly?”

Rhema paused as she thought hard about the question.  Brandt didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry, and he didn’t even really seem interested in Ischarus.  Rather, Brandt seemed more interested in her.  Collecting her thoughts, she replied, “He is an innocent man being held in the prison by Warden Farette.  Ischarus believes that you can help to get him free.”

Brandt pursed his lips together in thought before replying calmly.  “Did he say as much to you?”

Rhema replied quickly before thinking.  “Yes, he sent me to you directly!”

Brandt lowered his head to look directly into Rhema’s eyes.  “He said that I could free him from prison having never met him?”

Rhema stopped and thought, knowing that she had just spoken rashly.  “No.  Actually I believe that he told me to tell you that a Drakontos needs your expertise.”

Brandt smiled and broke his stare, satisfied by Rhema’s answer.  “I assure you, Rhema.  I cannot help his predicament in jail.  But I may be able to use my expertise and discover what he really needs my help in.  Besides, I suppose that if he is truly in jail than there is really no reason that you shouldn’t take your time and tell me the whole story.  I believe if he is truly in need of my help that the jail may well be the best place for him.”

As Brandt finished speaking his tone and facial expressions gave Rhema an eerie feeling that she no longer understood what use Brandt would be to Ischarus.  She suddenly felt mentally blind and unable to see where this conversation would lead them.  “Yes,” Rhema began cautiously, “I can see your point.  If you cannot help to free Ischarus, then there is little reason to hurry the story to the immediate details.  But before I begin, can you explain to me what help you think Ischarus may need from you?”

Brandt leaned forward in his chair and spoke rather softly.  “I am a deeply religious man, and I would assume you would know that given my current place of … employment.  Yet I am also a dabbler in the magic arts.”  A very sincere smile crossed Brandt’s face as he spoke.  “I would assume that your Ischarus has sought me out for either a religious or a magical reason.  He needs something from me, and I am the one appointed by many of the good dragon fathers to help young Drakontos with what they need.”

Rhema only found more questions in Brandt’s answers.  She thought she had an understanding on the differences between herself and a Drakontos; but the more Brandt spoke the more confused she became.  “What does Ischarus need from you?  He is a swordsman by trade and a good one at that.  He is deeply rooted in your faith, but by no means does he possess powers over magic or powers granted by the divine.”  Rhema paused, her own thoughts leaping farther and farther ahead of what her mouth could express.

Brandt saw her expression and reached out his right hand in a motion to catch her attention and caused her to stop thinking so fervently.  “My guess is that just when you think you have Ischarus figured out you discover that there is more to his world than you could realize.  If that is correct, then it is imperative for my own understanding that you begin with the beginning when you met him and tell me what you remember about your activities with Ischarus.  Tell me about his passions, his irritations, his loves, his activities, and his friendships.  There is no detail that is too small or insignificant.  If Ischarus sent you here to me, then he was confident that I could find my answers in you.”

Rhema looked to Brandt and the man seemed to almost be radiating a calm confidence.  Rhema began to tell her story, much like she had begun to explain to Semeion on the day that they first met in the _Cachinnating Roadhouse_.  She told of how the two had met, adventured together, met Semeion and then met Charis, and finally how they had been followed by the servants of the red wyrm.  As Rhema concluded her story, Brandt raised himself from his chair and extended a hand to Rhema.

“My dear Rhema, the two of you have indeed led a beautiful life together.  But I do think the time has come for me to meet this Ischarus of whom you speak so fondly.  I can tell that you have a great love for him, and I believe I can indeed help him.”  Brandt smiled confidently.

Rhema accepted the hand and rose up to Brandt’s side.  As Brandt grabbed the heavy traveling cloak that helped disguise his identity on the streets, Rhema inquired of him one more time. “What, may I ask, can you help Ischarus with?”

Brandt turned and smiled, opening the door for Rhema to exit first.  “Rhema, that is something that I will leave to Ischarus to tell you.  He must discover it himself.  Once he does, he will readily tell you.”  He brought a finger up to his lips and spoke once more.  “Now that we are out of my office I must ask you to refrain from speaking on this matter further.”

Rhema looked once more to Brandt and shook her head slightly from side to side.  This was one more thing that she would have to wait before understanding.  She smiled as she mused that Ischarus had better make this worth her trouble.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Rhema couldn’t help but to stare at Brandt as he spoke. Her mind raced with the possibilities. She knew that Ischarus had come from a different background and that his Drakontos heritage meant that she did not share in the typical upbringing that he had as a Drakontos. But she had always considered herself to be close enough to Ischarus to be able to read his body language and tone well enough to interpret his meaning correctly. However, as Brandt spoke she began to doubt her original instincts. Had Ischarus really chosen the peculiar moment of his arrest to express a true love for her? Or was Rhema merely fed the proper answer that she wanted to believe because it was the only way that would allow her to survive the encounter with Brandt? Never before had she been so confused about the motivations of other people.

Rhema slurred under her breath just loud enough for Brandt to hear. “Curse Ischarus!”

Brandt cocked his head slightly to the right and wrinkled his thick eyebrows. “I’m sorry? Did you just curse the one who sent you here to find me? I’m sorry, but I don’t think I understand.”

Rhema snapped back to reality, pushing her emotions to the back of her mind. “Well, that’s no surprise. I’m afraid that I don’t really understand anymore either. But apparently that is part of the plan. It’s part of Ischarus’ plan at least. I don’t know what he’s thinking anymore.”

Brandt blink at the odd logic expressed and looked around the room. He gestured with his right hand to a pair of padded chairs in the corner of the room. The plush red velvet called out to Rhema as Brandt motioned toward them and she eagerly accepted his invitation. As she sat, she found herself feeling as though the large oak frame and the plush velvet padding were going to swallow her completely. When she looked over to Brandt it seemed as though the chair was just as large on him. Either way, the chair was certainly comfortable if not large.

When Rhema looked as though she was comfortably seated, Brandt addressed her and invited her to continue to bring her thoughts to her lips. “Why don’t you begin at the beginning, then? You can start by telling me the story that leads up to why this Ischarus has sent you to find me. Perhaps along the way we’ll discover what I can do for him? And perhaps along I might discover what exactly I can do for you?”

Rhema paused and thought about where to begin. Figuring that he need not know about the details that didn’t relate specifically to Ischarus, Rhema began to tell the tale from when the party had exited the temple for the first time earlier today and had chased Grick. She had not told more than two sentences to Brandt before he lifted up a hand and motioned for her to stop.

Brandt loudly sucked in a large breath in through his nose and then exhaled just as loudly through his nose. More softly he breathed in once more and spoke, “I think you have misinterpreted my request, madam. The events that you describe happened today, correct?”

Rhema looked toward Brandt and replied with a confused tone. “Well, yes. You wanted me to …”

Brandt interrupted Rhema’s sentence, knowing that she was merely trying to make sense of her confusion. Brandt knew the reason for the confusion and needed no justification. “I wanted you to explain your relationship to Ischarus, not necessarily the events that led him into the immediate circumstances surrounding Ischarus.”

Rhema looked even more confused. “But, I’m not sure that we have the time for that tale.”

Brandt chuckled softly in a manner that informed Rhema that she had amused him – even if unintentionally. “Madam, what is the name that Ischarus calls you so that I may speak informally with you?”

Rhema answered easily. “Ischarus calls me Rhema. All my friends call me Rhema.”

Brandt lifted his elbows so that they rested upon the immense arms of the chair and brought his hands together. He aligned his fingertips and flexed his fingers against one another until his fingers were perpendicular to his hands. He brought the paired index fingers directly in front of his mouth and spoke. “Rhema, where is Ischarus that he is unable to seek me directly?”

Rhema paused as she thought hard about the question. Brandt didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry, and he didn’t even really seem interested in Ischarus. Rather, Brandt seemed more interested in her. Collecting her thoughts, she replied, “He is an innocent man being held in the prison by Warden Farette. Ischarus believes that you can help to get him free.”

Brandt pursed his lips together in thought before replying calmly. “Did he say as much to you?”

Rhema replied quickly before thinking. “Yes, he sent me to you directly!”

Brandt lowered his head to look directly into Rhema’s eyes. “He said that I could free him from prison having never met him?”

Rhema stopped and thought, knowing that she had just spoken rashly. “No. Actually I believe that he told me to tell you that a Drakontos needs your expertise.”

Brandt smiled and broke his stare, satisfied by Rhema’s answer. “I assure you, Rhema. I cannot help his predicament in jail. But I may be able to use my expertise and discover what he really needs my help in. Besides, I suppose that if he is truly in jail than there is really no reason that you shouldn’t take your time and tell me the whole story. I believe if he is truly in need of my help that the jail may well be the best place for him.”

As Brandt finished speaking his tone and facial expressions gave Rhema an eerie feeling that she no longer understood what use Brandt would be to Ischarus. She suddenly felt mentally blind and unable to see where this conversation would lead them. “Yes,” Rhema began cautiously, “I can see your point. If you cannot help to free Ischarus, then there is little reason to hurry the story to the immediate details. But before I begin, can you explain to me what help you think Ischarus may need from you?”

Brandt leaned forward in his chair and spoke rather softly. “I am a deeply religious man, and I would assume you would know that given my current place of … employment. Yet I am also a dabbler in the magic arts.” A very sincere smile crossed Brandt’s face as he spoke. “I would assume that your Ischarus has sought me out for either a religious or a magical reason. He needs something from me, and I am the one appointed by many of the good dragon fathers to help young Drakontos with what they need.”

Rhema only found more questions in Brandt’s answers. She thought she had an understanding on the differences between herself and a Drakontos; but the more Brandt spoke the more confused she became. “What does Ischarus need from you? He is a swordsman by trade and a good one at that. He is deeply rooted in your faith, but by no means does he possess powers over magic or powers granted by the divine.” Rhema paused, her own thoughts leaping farther and farther ahead of what her mouth could express.

Brandt saw her expression and reached out his right hand in a motion to catch her attention and caused her to stop thinking so fervently. “My guess is that just when you think you have Ischarus figured out you discover that there is more to his world than you could realize. If that is correct, then it is imperative for my own understanding that you begin with the beginning when you met him and tell me what you remember about your activities with Ischarus. Tell me about his passions, his irritations, his loves, his activities, and his friendships. There is no detail that is too small or insignificant. If Ischarus sent you here to me, then he was confident that I could find my answers in you.”

Rhema looked to Brandt and the man seemed to almost be radiating a calm confidence. Rhema began to tell her story, much like she had begun to explain to Semeion on the day that they first met in the Cachinnating Roadhouse. She told of how the two had met, adventured together, met Semeion and then met Charis, and finally how they had been followed by the servants of the red wyrm. As Rhema concluded her story, Brandt raised himself from his chair and extended a hand to Rhema.

“My dear Rhema, the two of you have indeed led a beautiful life together. But I do think the time has come for me to meet this Ischarus of whom you speak so fondly. I can tell that you have a great love for him, and I believe I can indeed help him.” Brandt smiled confidently.

Rhema accepted the hand and rose up to Brandt’s side. As Brandt grabbed the heavy traveling cloak that helped disguise his identity on the streets, Rhema inquired of him one more time. “What, may I ask, can you help Ischarus with?”

Brandt turned and smiled, opening the door for Rhema to exit first. “Rhema, that is something that I will leave to Ischarus to tell you. He must discover it himself. Once he does, he will readily tell you.” He brought a finger up to his lips and spoke once more. “Now that we are out of my office I must ask you to refrain from speaking on this matter further.”

Rhema looked once more to Brandt and shook her head slightly from side to side. This was one more thing that she would have to wait before understanding. She smiled as she mused that Ischarus had better make this worth her trouble.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 12, 2006)

Back in the prison, Ischarus lay flat on a table in a brightly lit room.  There were no windows within the room, but there were more than enough magical lights around the ceiling to light the room brightly.  Ischarus squinted as he opened his eyes and saw a fuzzy shadow hovering above him.  He spoke softly as he looked into the light.  “Am I dead?” Ischarus asked, wondering why his vision was so blurry.

He heard a bit of chuckling from around his head.  Two of the laughs he recognized, two of the laughs were foreign.  One of the familiar chuckles stopped short and spoke up.  “No, Ischarus, you are not dead.  But you are better off than you were an hour ago.”

Ischarus smiled at the sound of Semeion’s voice and immediately replied now that he knew there was a friend in the room.  “Your weak voice sounds good to my ears.  Can I assume that if you are here that I am free?”

Ischarus realized his eyesight was returning to normal as Charis leaned over him and spoke softly.  Her face was much more recognizable than Semeion’s fuzzy shadow that had stood over him a few moments ago.  Her long hair cast a shadow along Charis’ face, but Ischarus was seeing well enough to recognize her smile.  “We were able to bring the healer from the temple here to verify your story.  Captain Jacobseille said something about an armed conflict in the bowels of the prison that combined with the testimony of the healer assured him of your freedom?”

An unfamiliar voice to Ischarus spoke.  The voice was soft and fragile, and his ears thought they picked up a slight pattern of speech that was also used to speaking in the tongue of the Elves.  “The patient was brought to me just before you arrived.  Fortunately I was able to relieve him of his consciousness before beginning the magical process of healing his wounds.  The sickness vanished on its own in due time.  With the greater healing power of Barrachius from the temple, we were able to fix your leg completely.  No doubt that there will be stiffness for even a few weeks, but you should be able to walk on it.”

The other unfamiliar voice spoke, although as the man spoke Iscahrus was able to place the voice as belonging to the healer Barrachius from the temple.  “It would seem that I have been able to repay you for your generous donation to the cause of our mutual god.  I consider it an honor to have been used in that regard.  Now, as to your leg, I would recommend staying off of it except light travel for a few days.  Where is it that you said you were from?”

Ischarus spoke, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy as the pain from his leg clouded his mind.  “Huetown.  And we …”

Ischarus’ speech was interrupted by a knock at the door.  Without being invited in, the door opened and both Captain Jacobseille and Warden Farette strutted confidently into the room.  “Is he healed and awake?”  The warden asked flatly without any real care for Ischarus’ condition.

The prison’s healer nodded and replied in her fair voice.  “He is healed, awake, and no doubt in considerable pain.”

The warden brushed off the last part of the healer’s sentence and marched to the table over top of Ischarus.  “We have good news for you, Ischarus.  Thanks to your planned stunt below, we have been able to interrogate the man you call Grick more thoroughly and convincingly.  It would seem that he comes from Quehalost.  And it would seem that you have spent some time there yourself.”  The warden looked up from Ischarus and glanced at Charis and Semeion along the other side of the table where Ischarus lay.  “I assume that your work in Quehalost is honorable and it is you honor that has brought Grick’s wrath upon you.  I would pray that you have not brought the attention of a red wyrm upon our city for dishonorable means.  And I should not need to remind you that vigilantism is not a recommended approach to doing business in Fingerdale as far as Lord Ironblood and the city guard is concerned.  You are lucky that Grick is such a considerably dangerous criminal.”

Ischarus, Semeion, and Charis remained quiet.  They did not want to say anything that would allow the warden or the captain of the guard to change their decision regarding Ischarus’ freedom.  After a few seconds of awkward silence, Captain Jacobseille spoke.  “I would imagine the results of our investigation will be fruitful, especially since you did ask to interview him yourself when we are finished.  I am sure that he has a good tale still yet to tell.  I can tell you that you will not be allowed to interview him on account of the twice violent encounters between the two of you.  However, there is one particular fact that I believe you may not know about Grick.  His power does not stem from the normal means of magic – either study or natural talent.  His magical power comes from a specific line of breeding that is intentionally passed on from one generation to another.  No doubt you know that Grick is a Drakontai.  I assume that you can come to the proper conclusion that his heritage plays an important role in his magical ability.  It is rumored that the evil dragons of Quehalost indeed keep lines of innate magical users within their service who are bred from their own person.  I would consider yourself sufficiently warned in the fact that the red wyrm you angered has sent such a special person in his service to handle you.  I would also consider yourselves lucky.  The innate magic users of dragons are not known to be this ineffective.  You survived this time.”

Again Semeion and Charis remained silent.  The new information was taking time to sink in.  Ischarus was not surprised at all about the information that the captain had given to them.  He replied almost immediately to the captain’s assertion.  “I thank you for sharing this information with us, Captain.  And you have my assurance that so long as we need not protect this town from more minions of the red wyrm that you will likewise neither hear of us again nor trouble your guard with our business.”

The warden smirked, knowing that Ischarus and his friends would likely not get so kind a second chance.  Captain Jacobseille distinctly leaned over Ischarus’ face as he lay horizontal on the table and spoke directly to Ischarus.  “I would hope that you have the intelligence of alerting my city guard next time you are confronted with minions of the red wyrm.”

Ischarus closed his eyes in understanding and chose not to speak further.  He had pressed his luck and was in no position to make demands.  From where he lay, the prison cells were easier to reach than the freedom of outside.

After another awkward silence, Warden Farette motioned to Captain Jacobseille and they left the room.  The prison healer relaxed upon their exit and gave Semeion a questioned look.  Semeion merely shook his head and returned to Barrachius’ earlier question.  “We came from Huetown, and we came by foot.  It is a few miles back as you no doubt know.  Will Ischarus be able to walk it?”

Barrachius looked once more at Ischarus, looked deeply into his eyes, and then motioned for the prison healer to remove the bed sheet covering Ischarus’ wounded leg.  The healer and Barrachius each examined the healed leg in silence and then Barrachius gave his diagnosis.  “I would advise against it.  The leg might well be healed, but the remaining pain from the original wound and the healing may well cause a significant limp.  If the limp is pronounced over too much time it could cause more serious muscle damage.  I would recommend leaving Ischarus here and returning with a horse.  Ischarus should be able to ride a horse so long as the horse is kept from trotting or galloping.  Of course, a fast moving horse would require Ischarus to use his leg.”

Ischarus sighed, knowing that by this time in the day there was no way that he would be returning to Huetown this evening.  That most likely meant finding an inn and staying in it alone so that the other three could return in the evening and be back by morning with the horses.

The prison healer spoke.  There was a tone present which told of a desire to finish up this visit in her smooth voice.  “I would concur with Barrachius’ opinion.  Stay off the leg except for short moments of walking.  Rest it often and refrain from applying ice or heat if possible.  Just let it heal and allow the pain and stiffness to leave the leg.  If there is nothing else, I believe you are free to go.  The guards in the hallway will retrieve your items and show you out.”

Ischarus swallowed hard, wondering how he would feel sitting up for the first time since he had grown sick.  He managed to sit up well but winced in pain as he slid to his feet and off the healer’s table.  Semeion and Charis each rushed to opposite sides of Ischarus and grabbed an elbow for support.  Ischarus’ hands instinctively grabbed onto both Semeion and Charis as they offered support.  Slowly he made his way to the door.

Outside the room, the guards had already assembled Ischarus’ equipment – including the sword that had been taken from him earlier by the city guard.  They coolly dismissed Ischarus and showed him the door that led back to the narrow lobby.  Once the three party members and Barrachius had entered the lobby the heavy metal door slammed loudly behind them.  Ischarus took a moment to make sure his sword was properly in its scabbard and they left the prison behind them.

They decided to walk the healer back to the temple in an attempt to find Rhema.  Halfway back to the temple, Charis spied Rhema and another man walking in their direction.  At about the same time, Rhema saw Charis and Semeion helping Ischarus walk painfully along the street.  Rhema sprang forward to greet them all, although her eyes focused especially on Ischarus.  Her rush left Brandt several paces behind.  Bracchius reached out a hand and stopped Rhema from actually hugging Ischarus.  “Ma’am, this man is in significant pain from a leg injury.  I’ll ask that you not put undo stress upon his wound.”

Rhema’s smile instantly broke into a look of concern, although Ischarus dismissed her concern quickly.  “I’ll be fine, Rhema.  Don’t worry.  But tell me, were you successful in retrieving the services of Brandt?

Brandt’s voice came from behind Rhema.  He was still several paces off.  “Indeed she was, sir.  I am assuming you are Ischarus and therefore, in one manner of speaking or another, my kin?”

Ischarus stopped and allowed Brandt to approach.  “I am the one who sent for you.  I have a need to ask you of a favor.  And it is a favor that I was told to ask from you specifically.”

Brandt completed his approach and stood a pace from Ischarus and faced him.  Ischarus smiled as he noted Brandt’s cloak and the fact that it was about as indistinct as he expected.  “I believe that I can help you, then.  Rhema was quite informative in telling me of your background.  But this is not the time to speak of such things.  May I invite you to my office where we can speak much more freely?”

Ischarus winced at the thought of walking further, and Brandt must have seen the pain.  He had overheard the healer’s warning of injuring Ischarus and Brandt offered up a quick amendment to the plan.  “Perhaps I should be more specific.  The invitation would require no more pain on your behalf if you allow me to use a bit of magic.”

Semeion smiled, genuinely intrigued by any display of magic.  Charis likewise smiled, although her appreciation came from seeing the instant excitement on Semeion’s face.  Rhema and Bracchius looked relieved at the fact that Ischarus could be temporarily relieved of his pain.  Ischarus noted the reactions of his companions and nodded in the affirmative to Brandt.  “I suppose it would disappoint my companions too much to refuse.  Much to Rhema’s relief, Ischarus allowed a good natured smirk to pass over his face as he spoke.

Brandt returned Ischarus’ smirk with a broad grin and extended his hands as he spoke.  “We must all be in contact with one another.  Bracchius, if you desire you may join us.”  Once the party had joined hands Brandt continued to give directions regarding the magic.  “As much as I like my secretive lifestyle, I always enjoy performing this spell in the midst of the public.  I think it gives them hope in the unimaginable happening.  Placilicuhn ul-Tactum.”

The party began to waver as if the ground beneath them was growing insanely hot and the heat was rising among the party.  There was no heat, of course, but the magical effect made it appear as though the simple road grew with insane heat.  Soon the wavering quickened and in a flash the party had vanished.


[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Back in the prison, Ischarus lay flat on a table in a brightly lit room. There were no windows within the room, but there were more than enough magical lights around the ceiling to light the room brightly. Ischarus squinted as he opened his eyes and saw a fuzzy shadow hovering above him. He spoke softly as he looked into the light. “Am I dead?” Ischarus asked, wondering why his vision was so blurry.

He heard a bit of chuckling from around his head. Two of the laughs he recognized, two of the laughs were foreign. One of the familiar chuckles stopped short and spoke up. “No, Ischarus, you are not dead. But you are better off than you were an hour ago.”

Ischarus smiled at the sound of Semeion’s voice and immediately replied now that he knew there was a friend in the room. “Your weak voice sounds good to my ears. Can I assume that if you are here that I am free?”

Ischarus realized his eyesight was returning to normal as Charis leaned over him and spoke softly. Her face was much more recognizable than Semeion’s fuzzy shadow that had stood over him a few moments ago. Her long hair cast a shadow along Charis’ face, but Ischarus was seeing well enough to recognize her smile. “We were able to bring the healer from the temple here to verify your story. Captain Jacobseille said something about an armed conflict in the bowels of the prison that combined with the testimony of the healer assured him of your freedom?”

An unfamiliar voice to Ischarus spoke. The voice was soft and fragile, and his ears thought they picked up a slight pattern of speech that was also used to speaking in the tongue of the Elves. “The patient was brought to me just before you arrived. Fortunately I was able to relieve him of his consciousness before beginning the magical process of healing his wounds. The sickness vanished on its own in due time. With the greater healing power of Barrachius from the temple, we were able to fix your leg completely. No doubt that there will be stiffness for even a few weeks, but you should be able to walk on it.”

The other unfamiliar voice spoke, although as the man spoke Iscahrus was able to place the voice as belonging to the healer Barrachius from the temple. “It would seem that I have been able to repay you for your generous donation to the cause of our mutual god. I consider it an honor to have been used in that regard. Now, as to your leg, I would recommend staying off of it except light travel for a few days. Where is it that you said you were from?”

Ischarus spoke, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy as the pain from his leg clouded his mind. “Huetown. And we …”

Ischarus’ speech was interrupted by a knock at the door. Without being invited in, the door opened and both Captain Jacobseille and Warden Farette strutted confidently into the room. “Is he healed and awake?” The warden asked flatly without any real care for Ischarus’ condition.

The prison’s healer nodded and replied in her fair voice. “He is healed, awake, and no doubt in considerable pain.”

The warden brushed off the last part of the healer’s sentence and marched to the table over top of Ischarus. “We have good news for you, Ischarus. Thanks to your planned stunt below, we have been able to interrogate the man you call Grick more thoroughly and convincingly. It would seem that he comes from Quehalost. And it would seem that you have spent some time there yourself.” The warden looked up from Ischarus and glanced at Charis and Semeion along the other side of the table where Ischarus lay. “I assume that your work in Quehalost is honorable and it is you honor that has brought Grick’s wrath upon you. I would pray that you have not brought the attention of a red wyrm upon our city for dishonorable means. And I should not need to remind you that vigilantism is not a recommended approach to doing business in Fingerdale as far as Lord Ironblood and the city guard is concerned. You are lucky that Grick is such a considerably dangerous criminal.”

Ischarus, Semeion, and Charis remained quiet. They did not want to say anything that would allow the warden or the captain of the guard to change their decision regarding Ischarus’ freedom. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Captain Jacobseille spoke. “I would imagine the results of our investigation will be fruitful, especially since you did ask to interview him yourself when we are finished. I am sure that he has a good tale still yet to tell. I can tell you that you will not be allowed to interview him on account of the twice violent encounters between the two of you. However, there is one particular fact that I believe you may not know about Grick. His power does not stem from the normal means of magic – either study or natural talent. His magical power comes from a specific line of breeding that is intentionally passed on from one generation to another. No doubt you know that Grick is a Drakontai. I assume that you can come to the proper conclusion that his heritage plays an important role in his magical ability. It is rumored that the evil dragons of Quehalost indeed keep lines of innate magical users within their service who are bred from their own person. I would consider yourself sufficiently warned in the fact that the red wyrm you angered has sent such a special person in his service to handle you. I would also consider yourselves lucky. The innate magic users of dragons are not known to be this ineffective. You survived this time.”

Again Semeion and Charis remained silent. The new information was taking time to sink in. Ischarus was not surprised at all about the information that the captain had given to them. He replied almost immediately to the captain’s assertion. “I thank you for sharing this information with us, Captain. And you have my assurance that so long as we need not protect this town from more minions of the red wyrm that you will likewise neither hear of us again nor trouble your guard with our business.”

The warden smirked, knowing that Ischarus and his friends would likely not get so kind a second chance. Captain Jacobseille distinctly leaned over Ischarus’ face as he lay horizontal on the table and spoke directly to Ischarus. “I would hope that you have the intelligence of alerting my city guard next time you are confronted with minions of the red wyrm.”

Ischarus closed his eyes in understanding and chose not to speak further. He had pressed his luck and was in no position to make demands. From where he lay, the prison cells were easier to reach than the freedom of outside.

After another awkward silence, Warden Farette motioned to Captain Jacobseille and they left the room. The prison healer relaxed upon their exit and gave Semeion a questioned look. Semeion merely shook his head and returned to Barrachius’ earlier question. “We came from Huetown, and we came by foot. It is a few miles back as you no doubt know. Will Ischarus be able to walk it?”

Barrachius looked once more at Ischarus, looked deeply into his eyes, and then motioned for the prison healer to remove the bed sheet covering Ischarus’ wounded leg. The healer and Barrachius each examined the healed leg in silence and then Barrachius gave his diagnosis. “I would advise against it. The leg might well be healed, but the remaining pain from the original wound and the healing may well cause a significant limp. If the limp is pronounced over too much time it could cause more serious muscle damage. I would recommend leaving Ischarus here and returning with a horse. Ischarus should be able to ride a horse so long as the horse is kept from trotting or galloping. Of course, a fast moving horse would require Ischarus to use his leg.”

Ischarus sighed, knowing that by this time in the day there was no way that he would be returning to Huetown this evening. That most likely meant finding an inn and staying in it alone so that the other three could return in the evening and be back by morning with the horses.

The prison healer spoke. There was a tone present which told of a desire to finish up this visit in her smooth voice. “I would concur with Barrachius’ opinion. Stay off the leg except for short moments of walking. Rest it often and refrain from applying ice or heat if possible. Just let it heal and allow the pain and stiffness to leave the leg. If there is nothing else, I believe you are free to go. The guards in the hallway will retrieve your items and show you out.”

Ischarus swallowed hard, wondering how he would feel sitting up for the first time since he had grown sick. He managed to sit up well but winced in pain as he slid to his feet and off the healer’s table. Semeion and Charis each rushed to opposite sides of Ischarus and grabbed an elbow for support. Ischarus’ hands instinctively grabbed onto both Semeion and Charis as they offered support. Slowly he made his way to the door.

Outside the room, the guards had already assembled Ischarus’ equipment – including the sword that had been taken from him earlier by the city guard. They coolly dismissed Ischarus and showed him the door that led back to the narrow lobby. Once the three party members and Barrachius had entered the lobby the heavy metal door slammed loudly behind them. Ischarus took a moment to make sure his sword was properly in its scabbard and they left the prison behind them.

They decided to walk the healer back to the temple in an attempt to find Rhema. Halfway back to the temple, Charis spied Rhema and another man walking in their direction. At about the same time, Rhema saw Charis and Semeion helping Ischarus walk painfully along the street. Rhema sprang forward to greet them all, although her eyes focused especially on Ischarus. Her rush left Brandt several paces behind. Bracchius reached out a hand and stopped Rhema from actually hugging Ischarus. “Ma’am, this man is in significant pain from a leg injury. I’ll ask that you not put undo stress upon his wound.”

Rhema’s smile instantly broke into a look of concern, although Ischarus dismissed her concern quickly. “I’ll be fine, Rhema. Don’t worry. But tell me, were you successful in retrieving the services of Brandt?

Brandt’s voice came from behind Rhema. He was still several paces off. “Indeed she was, sir. I am assuming you are Ischarus and therefore, in one manner of speaking or another, my kin?”

Ischarus stopped and allowed Brandt to approach. “I am the one who sent for you. I have a need to ask you of a favor. And it is a favor that I was told to ask from you specifically.”

Brandt completed his approach and stood a pace from Ischarus and faced him. Ischarus smiled as he noted Brandt’s cloak and the fact that it was about as indistinct as he expected. “I believe that I can help you, then. Rhema was quite informative in telling me of your background. But this is not the time to speak of such things. May I invite you to my office where we can speak much more freely?”

Ischarus winced at the thought of walking further, and Brandt must have seen the pain. He had overheard the healer’s warning of injuring Ischarus and Brandt offered up a quick amendment to the plan. “Perhaps I should be more specific. The invitation would require no more pain on your behalf if you allow me to use a bit of magic.”

Semeion smiled, genuinely intrigued by any display of magic. Charis likewise smiled, although her appreciation came from seeing the instant excitement on Semeion’s face. Rhema and Bracchius looked relieved at the fact that Ischarus could be temporarily relieved of his pain. Ischarus noted the reactions of his companions and nodded in the affirmative to Brandt. “I suppose it would disappoint my companions too much to refuse. Much to Rhema’s relief, Ischarus allowed a good natured smirk to pass over his face as he spoke.

Brandt returned Ischarus’ smirk with a broad grin and extended his hands as he spoke. “We must all be in contact with one another. Bracchius, if you desire you may join us.” Once the party had joined hands Brandt continued to give directions regarding the magic. “As much as I like my secretive lifestyle, I always enjoy performing this spell in the midst of the public. I think it gives them hope in the unimaginable happening. Placilicuhn ul-Tactum.”

The party began to waver as if the ground beneath them was growing insanely hot and the heat was rising among the party. There was no heat, of course, but the magical effect made it appear as though the simple road grew with insane heat. Soon the wavering quickened and in a flash the party had vanished.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 13, 2006)

*Chapter Seven: EXIGENCY*

From inside the wavering circle, the party could see none of the external effects.  What quite literally happened from the perspective of those under Brandt’s spell was that in one instant they were huddled in a circle on the street and the very next instant they were standing in a circle around Brandt’s desk in his office.  Their posture and position remained unchanged while their locale had changed completely.

A huge grin passed over Semeion’s face and Charis couldn’t help but smile at the young mage’s reaction to the use of magic.  “I have got to learn that spell!”  Semeion made his explanation without thinking that he was actually speaking aloud.

Brandt released the hands of those who were around him and looked back towards Semeion.  “My guess, young friend, is that the power of the spell is a bit out of reach given your current understanding of magic.  Teleportation magic is not something that you want to mess with until you know you can control it.  You could end up zapping yourself miles off target.  Or worse yet, you could end up teleporting yourself into the middle of the wall that makes up the room.”

Rhema swallowed hard as Brandt described the possible effects.  “No offense, then, but I am rather glad that you didn’t tell us that beforehand.”

Brandt chuckled at Rhema’s thought.  “There were no worries, Rhema.  I was not teleporting far and I was teleporting into an area that I can quite easily say that I am familiar with.  Both of those things were working in your favor.  Besides,” Brandt added with a bit of a wink, “I haven’t had a missed teleportation attempt for several days.”

Bracchius laughed out loud.  “No doubt that is true if you are measuring days in terms of how time infinitely passes in the heavens!  I would be shocked if you’ve missed a teleportation since you came here and took your charge, Brandt.”

The four adventurers found themselves caught up in the fact that obviously Brandt and Bracchius had a working relationship of which they were not aware.  Brandt replied to the temple healer while keeping the humor in his voice.  “Well, I suppose you might be right.  Weeks, then.”

Ischarus joined in the laugh with Bracchius after Brandt’s latest remark.  He knew Brandt hadn’t been working here forever, but he also knew that Brandt had been at the temple for as long as he could remember.  Ischarus even thought that he remembered his mother telling him that she had been under Brandt’s tutelage.

Bracchius turned and motioned to the four adventurers as he spoke next.  “Well, I do believe that my work for the day has been done and your work is just beginning, Brandt.  I’ll let myself out, then?”

Brandt merely nodded and smiled and turned his attention to the party.  As Bracchius left the room, he could hear Brandt beginning, “So, master Ischarus, you are the Drakontos who was told to seek me out.  I believe that I can indeed help you in your personal quest, but you must understand that it may take a few days or a week for you to fully understand how to begin.”

Semeion and Charis shared equally confused looks on their faces.  Charis spoke before Semeion could formulate his thought.  “Quest, Ischarus?  You’re going on a personal quest?  Did we miss something that happened when we were off for a time in the hospital seeking out Bracchius?

Brandt interrupted before Ischarus could explain.  From his tone and expression it was clear that Brandt had a healthy sense of humor and enjoyed speaking in less tan straightforward means.  “Yes, it is likely that you two certainly did.  But this is the first time that Ischarus and I have spoken.”

Ischarus chuckled at Charis’ and Semeion’s expense.  “I am a Drakontos, and you all know that.  Many of our kind find that we develop certain talents according to our parentage when we reach a certain point in our maturity.  The talents seldom develop until a few years after we have reached physical maturity.  As you should no doubt expect the talents vary from Drakontos to Drakontos.

Semeion was caught in the suspense of the new information.  In some respects, deep inside his soul he even found himself wishing that he was Drakontos.  He didn’t even know what the new talents could be, but there was a certain allure to Ischarus’ situation that appealed to him.  Perhaps that was what had brought him to Master Sathwright’s side in the first place to learn the magic arts.  As he thought about the possibilities and reflected them upon his own life he managed to bring himself to ask Brandt a question.  “What kinds of abilities develop, Ischarus?

Brandt leaned back, allowing Ischarus to field this question.  He wore a genuinely curious expression and turned his body so that he could hear Ischarus’ answer clearly.  From his expression Brandt revealed that Ischarus was going to tell more about himself than even Ischarus realized.

Ischarus cleared his throat, winced in pain as he shifted positions so he could sit down, and began his answer.  “It really depends on the Drakontos.  As you know with Grick, some Drakontos develop innate abilities derived from the magical nature of dragons.  Some become able to throw force around as if they were casting a spell.  Apparently some also develop the ability to make people nauseous from a distance.  Others of my race develop innate abilities of an arcane kind.  They can control magic and spells as a part of their essence.  Many who aspire to be wizards through deep study find that they gravitate toward certain areas of spells that are easier to decipher, memorize, and cast with heightened efficiency.  Some find deeply rooted religious connections that dwell within their very being and can heal as Bracchius and Charis are able.  In fact, I would not be surprised if Charis has already passed through her change when she learned that she was able to heal.  Like humans, female Drakontos typically reach physical and emotional maturity before males.”

Brandt turned to Charis and gave her and unexpected smile.  Of course he had assumed that Charis was a Drakontos from the story that Rhema had told him earlier, but he did not realize that Rhema’s abilities manifested through the gift of healing.  When she caught his eye, Brandt spoke to her, “I was unaware that you were a natural healer, Charis.  And to develop such a natural gift from a red wyrm lineage is indeed quite rare.  I can see why your people wanted to keep you alive and develop your family line through the means of the Provenience.”

Charis merely smiled at Brandt without offering up a response.  Much of the information Ischarus was relaying was completely new for her as well.  She had seen much of these talents develop before her eyes, but she had not fully understood her own people until meeting Ischarus.  Their father dragon was not so much interested in explaining their gifts as he was exploiting them.

Brandt continued, “Don’t take this the wrong way, of course, because I am glad that you were freed from the oppression and fear of living in the shadow of a great red wyrm.  But in many respects I would be significantly interested had your people’s experiment taken hold and the gift of healing had spread through your people.  A healer among the Drakontai of Quehalost is unusual indeed.”

Charis shifted on her feet and decided that it was time for her to sit down.  As she moved to the chairs, Brandt watched as the others looked to follow and sit where only a short time ago Brandt had sat and spoken with Rhema.  He held up a hand to stop them and spoke clearly.  “Do not misunderstand my intentions, friends.  But I really must ask that you not get terribly comfortable here.  Much of the work that Ischarus and I have to do will have to be done alone.  That does mean that Ischarus will need to stay alone with me in Fingerdale for a few days.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Chapter Seven: EXIGENCY

From inside the wavering circle, the party could see none of the external effects. What quite literally happened from the perspective of those under Brandt’s spell was that in one instant they were huddled in a circle on the street and the very next instant they were standing in a circle around Brandt’s desk in his office. Their posture and position remained unchanged while their locale had changed completely.

A huge grin passed over Semeion’s face and Charis couldn’t help but smile at the young mage’s reaction to the use of magic. “I have got to learn that spell!” Semeion made his explanation without thinking that he was actually speaking aloud.

Brandt released the hands of those who were around him and looked back towards Semeion. “My guess, young friend, is that the power of the spell is a bit out of reach given your current understanding of magic. Teleportation magic is not something that you want to mess with until you know you can control it. You could end up zapping yourself miles off target. Or worse yet, you could end up teleporting yourself into the middle of the wall that makes up the room.”

Rhema swallowed hard as Brandt described the possible effects. “No offense, then, but I am rather glad that you didn’t tell us that beforehand.”

Brandt chuckled at Rhema’s thought. “There were no worries, Rhema. I was not teleporting far and I was teleporting into an area that I can quite easily say that I am familiar with. Both of those things were working in your favor. Besides,” Brandt added with a bit of a wink, “I haven’t had a missed teleportation attempt for several days.”

Bracchius laughed out loud. “No doubt that is true if you are measuring days in terms of how time infinitely passes in the heavens! I would be shocked if you’ve missed a teleportation since you came here and took your charge, Brandt.”

The four adventurers found themselves caught up in the fact that obviously Brandt and Bracchius had a working relationship of which they were not aware. Brandt replied to the temple healer while keeping the humor in his voice. “Well, I suppose you might be right. Weeks, then.”

Ischarus joined in the laugh with Bracchius after Brandt’s latest remark. He knew Brandt hadn’t been working here forever, but he also knew that Brandt had been at the temple for as long as he could remember. Ischarus even thought that he remembered his mother telling him that she had been under Brandt’s tutelage.

Bracchius turned and motioned to the four adventurers as he spoke next. “Well, I do believe that my work for the day has been done and your work is just beginning, Brandt. I’ll let myself out, then?”

Brandt merely nodded and smiled and turned his attention to the party. As Bracchius left the room, he could hear Brandt beginning, “So, master Ischarus, you are the Drakontos who was told to seek me out. I believe that I can indeed help you in your personal quest, but you must understand that it may take a few days or a week for you to fully understand how to begin.”

Semeion and Charis shared equally confused looks on their faces. Charis spoke before Semeion could formulate his thought. “Quest, Ischarus? You’re going on a personal quest? Did we miss something that happened when we were off for a time in the hospital seeking out Bracchius?

Brandt interrupted before Ischarus could explain. From his tone and expression it was clear that Brandt had a healthy sense of humor and enjoyed speaking in less tan straightforward means. “Yes, it is likely that you two certainly did. But this is the first time that Ischarus and I have spoken.”

Ischarus chuckled at Charis’ and Semeion’s expense. “I am a Drakontos, and you all know that. Many of our kind find that we develop certain talents according to our parentage when we reach a certain point in our maturity. The talents seldom develop until a few years after we have reached physical maturity. As you should no doubt expect the talents vary from Drakontos to Drakontos.

Semeion was caught in the suspense of the new information. In some respects, deep inside his soul he even found himself wishing that he was Drakontos. He didn’t even know what the new talents could be, but there was a certain allure to Ischarus’ situation that appealed to him. Perhaps that was what had brought him to Master Sathwright’s side in the first place to learn the magic arts. As he thought about the possibilities and reflected them upon his own life he managed to bring himself to ask Brandt a question. “What kinds of abilities develop, Ischarus?

Brandt leaned back, allowing Ischarus to field this question. He wore a genuinely curious expression and turned his body so that he could hear Ischarus’ answer clearly. From his expression Brandt revealed that Ischarus was going to tell more about himself than even Ischarus realized.

Ischarus cleared his throat, winced in pain as he shifted positions so he could sit down, and began his answer. “It really depends on the Drakontos. As you know with Grick, some Drakontos develop innate abilities derived from the magical nature of dragons. Some become able to throw force around as if they were casting a spell. Apparently some also develop the ability to make people nauseous from a distance. Others of my race develop innate abilities of an arcane kind. They can control magic and spells as a part of their essence. Many who aspire to be wizards through deep study find that they gravitate toward certain areas of spells that are easier to decipher, memorize, and cast with heightened efficiency. Some find deeply rooted religious connections that dwell within their very being and can heal as Bracchius and Charis are able. In fact, I would not be surprised if Charis has already passed through her change when she learned that she was able to heal. Like humans, female Drakontos typically reach physical and emotional maturity before males.”

Brandt turned to Charis and gave her and unexpected smile. Of course he had assumed that Charis was a Drakontos from the story that Rhema had told him earlier, but he did not realize that Rhema’s abilities manifested through the gift of healing. When she caught his eye, Brandt spoke to her, “I was unaware that you were a natural healer, Charis. And to develop such a natural gift from a red wyrm lineage is indeed quite rare. I can see why your people wanted to keep you alive and develop your family line through the means of the Provenience.”

Charis merely smiled at Brandt without offering up a response. Much of the information Ischarus was relaying was completely new for her as well. She had seen much of these talents develop before her eyes, but she had not fully understood her own people until meeting Ischarus. Their father dragon was not so much interested in explaining their gifts as he was exploiting them.

Brandt continued, “Don’t take this the wrong way, of course, because I am glad that you were freed from the oppression and fear of living in the shadow of a great red wyrm. But in many respects I would be significantly interested had your people’s experiment taken hold and the gift of healing had spread through your people. A healer among the Drakontai of Quehalost is unusual indeed.”

Charis shifted on her feet and decided that it was time for her to sit down. As she moved to the chairs, Brandt watched as the others looked to follow and sit where only a short time ago Brandt had sat and spoken with Rhema. He held up a hand to stop them and spoke clearly. “Do not misunderstand my intentions, friends. But I really must ask that you not get terribly comfortable here. Much of the work that Ischarus and I have to do will have to be done alone. That does mean that Ischarus will need to stay alone with me in Fingerdale for a few days.”[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 13, 2006)

Rhema’s jaw nearly hit the floor as Brandt asserted the necessity for Ischarus to stay.  “But that’ll mean …”

Ischarus, not Brandt, cut Rhema’s complaint off.  “That’ll mean that I have a reason to stay hear in Fingerdale and not travel on my broken leg.  I’ll be in the care of someone who knows where to get me healing if anything goes wrong.  And it’ll likely only be for a few weeks anyway.”

Rhema shot a disapproving glance to Ischarus and then turned to Charis and Semeion for support.  Semeion was smart enough to stay out of this battle between friends.  Charis returned Rhema’s look with a smile and a suggestion of her own.  “Well, certainly Ischarus can’t be in training all of his time here.  Perhaps that’ll give us an excuse to come to Fingerdale once a day and see how he is progressing?  Besides, you all have been telling me that I need more practice to become accustomed to the ways of a civilized lifestyle.  We could come to Fingerdale to visit Ischarus briefly and then spend the rest of the day shopping and teaching me how to do the stuff that city people do.”

Brandt originally thought of objecting to Charis’ idea, knowing that Ischarus’ time would be valuable.  Yet as Charis spoke he found himself seeing the wisdom in her argument as well as knowing that Rhema would likely find it a satisfactory solution.  “As the one who would be administering wisdom along Ischarus’ quest, I suppose it would be possible for me to build a small amount of free time into his quest – say an hour after noon each day?  We’ll need to stop his training to eat regardless, and I do not get much in the means of company due to my intentionally sheltered life.”

Rhema still looked dissatisfied, but logically she knew it was about as good an offer as she could hope to receive.  As she thought, Semeion decided to add his opinion to the mix.  “Besides, we do have work to accomplish here in Fingerdale.  It is work that we were supposed to accomplish today but have not gotten done.  Judging by the time that this mess with Grick as cost us, I doubt we’ll get any of it accomplished with what’s left of today.  So we have to return home tonight and come back tomorrow anyway.  It just makes sense for Ischarus to stay here and begin his necessary training under Brandt while we are already here.  Besides, as Ischarus already said, he can’t travel tonight anyway.”

Rhema knew that she was finally defeated.  To object now would only prove to everyone else what she was already feeling inside.  She felt like a spoiled little girl who didn’t want to leave.  She knew that she must rise above that immature instinctual reaction.  “Very well, then.  The sooner we are off to head home the sooner Ischarus can begin his training.” 

Rhema looked down to Ischarus who was seated beside her and fought the urge to be sad.  Her hand reached out and rested atop Ischarus’ right hand.  She wasn’t sure if Ischarus’ earlier profession of love was sincere or a means of keeping Brandt from using the drake to destroy her, but either way she was making her affection know through this subtle act.  “So I suppose this is goodbye until tomorrow afternoon, then?”

Ischarus allowed the corners of his mouth to curl up in a slight smile as he recognized the emotional difficulty Rhema had in saying goodbye.  He turned to look up at her, but his wince from the pain in his leg from the shift in positions told Rhema that he would not be rising to give her a hug.  “Once I have found my new talents, my leg pain will be gone.  I’ll be good as new, and we can actively find out just how many minions the red wyrm is willing to send after Charis.”

Ischarus’ train of thought inspired Charis.  “And perhaps we can take another quest into Quehalost and finish what you started the last time through!”

Brandt smiled and began to walk for the door to his office.  “Perhaps.  Although if I take you meaning to be finish the red wyrm, I think you might want to grow in a bit more power before you think of that.”

Charis looked surprised at Brandt’s suggestion.  “You mean take on Grixanthrosilithiss?  I would never think of doing such a thing head on!  His might is terrific!  I do not know if slaying him is even an option for simple mortals like us.  Now perhaps your dragon father might be able to slay Grixanthrosilithiss.  Rather, I was thinking of returning to the village and seeing who managed to flee and who was recaptured.”

Rhema smiled as she let out a soft breath through her nose as an amusing thought passed through her mind.  “I’d honestly like another shot at Druff, to be honest.”

Semeion saw his opportunity.  He wrapped one of his arms around Rhema’s shoulders and began to walk her to the doorway.  He looked back over his shoulder and gave a simple nod of goodbye to Ischarus and spoke in return to Rhema, “Somehow I imagine that Druff would like another shot at you, too.”  The three enjoyed a good laugh as Brandt showed them out of the temple office.  Soon they were on their way back to Huetown.

Back inside Brandt’s office, the master returned to the pupil.  “Now that we are alone, tell me why you have sought me out at this time.”

Ischarus paused for a moment and collected his thoughts.  His eyebrows wrinkled together and his lips pursed until he had cemented his thinking.  “Far a few weeks now I have been having odd sensations in my right hand primarily.  The sensations come and go, although most of them came when I was having memories of our last trip into Quehalost and the red wyrm’s village.  Once and a while during my practice I would feel the sensation as I went through the motions of my fighting strokes with my sword during my daily rigor.”

Brandt leaned back in his chair, “Tell me more of these sensations.  Describe to me how they feel within your body.  Describing how your body reacts to them will help me understand their origin.”

Ischarus immediately began again as if he was anticipating the question.  “There are at times two distinct feelings.  I feel these most noticeably during swordplay and practice.  One of the sensations is not unlike the pins and needles feeling when an arm or a leg loses circulation for a short time.  The other sensation is quite cold.  It is as if the heat drains out of my arm.  The rest of the sensations are not so easily distinguished from another.”

Brandt leaned forward, intrigued by Ischarus’ description.  “I gathered from Rhema earlier that your swordplay is your livelihood.  I suppose if you are undergoing your final step in maturity that it is much more than completely symbolic that your sword arm is affected by these feelings.  I have a hunch, if you are prepared to listen.  Although you will be in some pain, draw your sword.  If I am right, the memory of the pain of combat may just intensify the transformation occurring within you for it to be observable.  If that is true, then Grick may have done you a tremendous service.”

Ischarus stood, fighting back the pain that shot through the muscles of his leg.  With both hands he focused intently on removing the small leather straps that kept his sword in its scabbard and with a sudden spark of motion a metallic ring shot through the room.  Ischarus’ sword was now poised and ready in his right hand.  The sudden twisting motion of drawing the sword from its scabbard put tension upon his leg and he cried out in pain.  His right hand gripped tightly around the hilt of his sword as it looked to ease the pain.

Brandt noticed a faint magical aura around Ischarus as the pain shot through his body.  Following a master’s instincts, Brandt quickly held out his left hand and shouted to Ischarus, “Now, don’t think about it – just touch my wrist!”

Ischarus stretched his left arm forward and touched Brandt on his left wrist.  Instantly the smell of melting flesh filled the room.  Brandt stepped backwards from where Ischarus stood but before he had moved he looked at Ischarus and saw the magical aura move from his right hand through his body and discharge through his extended left hand.  Brandt looked down at the flesh on his hand and saw that it had been burned as if a flask of burning oil had been poured over the skin.  As Brandt looked down at his wrist, Ischarus likewise looked at what he had done to Brandt.

Ischarus spoke as the shock of the action caught up with him.  “Sir, I meant no offense!” Ischarus blurted out his apology at the surprise of seeing Brandt injured.  “If I knew I was capable of injuring you in that manner I would not have touched you!”  Ischarus was horrified at his action.

Brandt grimaced through the pain.  “When I told you to touch me I assumed that there would be injury to me.  I did not expect an acid burn, however.  Either way, with me it is little matter.”

Brandt stepped back from Ischarus another step and rested his right hand gently over the burned flesh of his left wrist.  He spoke the simple words he had heard Charis speak elsewhere.  “Bondras-tol Egro”  A white light emanated from his right hand through his wrist.  In a matter of seconds his wrist was healed.  When he moved his right hand, Ischarus saw that not even a scar remained where the acidic burns had once been.

Brandt flexed his wrist slightly and winced at the pain as Ischarus simply looked on in awe.  “There now, I am good as new.  My wrist will heal.  And it would seem that we will both have subtle pain to remind us of your struggle while you learn your new gifts.”

Ischarus replied and was still a bit embarrassed at injuring Brandt, even if it was unintentional.  “You must believe me that I meant no harm.”

Brandt returned Ischarus’ apology with a kind smile and soft words.  “There is no harm done.  Believe it or not, you just cast your first spell – and I believe it was of the arcane nature.  Time will tell, Ischarus, as to whether your natural gift is of magic or religion.  But given the way that it is manifesting and the fact that you are skilled at swordplay, I would assume it is arcane.”

Ischarus unintentionally cocked his head to the left as Brandt gave his revelation into Ischarus’ transformation.  “You mean I can cast spells?  But, I’m a swordsman!  I’m not a spell caster like Semeion!”

Brandt placed his right hand on Ischarus’ left shoulder.  “Sheath your sword and have a seat, Ischarus.  It would seem that we have a bit of learning to do.  And remember, you are only at the beginning of your journey.  My guess is that neither you nor I can foresee where these things will take you in the end.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Rhema’s jaw nearly hit the floor as Brandt asserted the necessity for Ischarus to stay. “But that’ll mean …”

Ischarus, not Brandt, cut Rhema’s complaint off. “That’ll mean that I have a reason to stay hear in Fingerdale and not travel on my broken leg. I’ll be in the care of someone who knows where to get me healing if anything goes wrong. And it’ll likely only be for a few weeks anyway.”

Rhema shot a disapproving glance to Ischarus and then turned to Charis and Semeion for support. Semeion was smart enough to stay out of this battle between friends. Charis returned Rhema’s look with a smile and a suggestion of her own. “Well, certainly Ischarus can’t be in training all of his time here. Perhaps that’ll give us an excuse to come to Fingerdale once a day and see how he is progressing? Besides, you all have been telling me that I need more practice to become accustomed to the ways of a civilized lifestyle. We could come to Fingerdale to visit Ischarus briefly and then spend the rest of the day shopping and teaching me how to do the stuff that city people do.”

Brandt originally thought of objecting to Charis’ idea, knowing that Ischarus’ time would be valuable. Yet as Charis spoke he found himself seeing the wisdom in her argument as well as knowing that Rhema would likely find it a satisfactory solution. “As the one who would be administering wisdom along Ischarus’ quest, I suppose it would be possible for me to build a small amount of free time into his quest – say an hour after noon each day? We’ll need to stop his training to eat regardless, and I do not get much in the means of company due to my intentionally sheltered life.”

Rhema still looked dissatisfied, but logically she knew it was about as good an offer as she could hope to receive. As she thought, Semeion decided to add his opinion to the mix. “Besides, we do have work to accomplish here in Fingerdale. It is work that we were supposed to accomplish today but have not gotten done. Judging by the time that this mess with Grick as cost us, I doubt we’ll get any of it accomplished with what’s left of today. So we have to return home tonight and come back tomorrow anyway. It just makes sense for Ischarus to stay here and begin his necessary training under Brandt while we are already here. Besides, as Ischarus already said, he can’t travel tonight anyway.”

Rhema knew that she was finally defeated. To object now would only prove to everyone else what she was already feeling inside. She felt like a spoiled little girl who didn’t want to leave. She knew that she must rise above that immature instinctual reaction. “Very well, then. The sooner we are off to head home the sooner Ischarus can begin his training.” 

Rhema looked down to Ischarus who was seated beside her and fought the urge to be sad. Her hand reached out and rested atop Ischarus’ right hand. She wasn’t sure if Ischarus’ earlier profession of love was sincere or a means of keeping Brandt from using the drake to destroy her, but either way she was making her affection know through this subtle act. “So I suppose this is goodbye until tomorrow afternoon, then?”

Ischarus allowed the corners of his mouth to curl up in a slight smile as he recognized the emotional difficulty Rhema had in saying goodbye. He turned to look up at her, but his wince from the pain in his leg from the shift in positions told Rhema that he would not be rising to give her a hug. “Once I have found my new talents, my leg pain will be gone. I’ll be good as new, and we can actively find out just how many minions the red wyrm is willing to send after Charis.”

Ischarus’ train of thought inspired Charis. “And perhaps we can take another quest into Quehalost and finish what you started the last time through!”

Brandt smiled and began to walk for the door to his office. “Perhaps. Although if I take you meaning to be finish the red wyrm, I think you might want to grow in a bit more power before you think of that.”

Charis looked surprised at Brandt’s suggestion. “You mean take on Grixanthrosilithiss? I would never think of doing such a thing head on! His might is terrific! I do not know if slaying him is even an option for simple mortals like us. Now perhaps your dragon father might be able to slay Grixanthrosilithiss. Rather, I was thinking of returning to the village and seeing who managed to flee and who was recaptured.”

Rhema smiled as she let out a soft breath through her nose as an amusing thought passed through her mind. “I’d honestly like another shot at Druff, to be honest.”

Semeion saw his opportunity. He wrapped one of his arms around Rhema’s shoulders and began to walk her to the doorway. He looked back over his shoulder and gave a simple nod of goodbye to Ischarus and spoke in return to Rhema, “Somehow I imagine that Druff would like another shot at you, too.” The three enjoyed a good laugh as Brandt showed them out of the temple office. Soon they were on their way back to Huetown.

Back inside Brandt’s office, the master returned to the pupil. “Now that we are alone, tell me why you have sought me out at this time.”

Ischarus paused for a moment and collected his thoughts. His eyebrows wrinkled together and his lips pursed until he had cemented his thinking. “Far a few weeks now I have been having odd sensations in my right hand primarily. The sensations come and go, although most of them came when I was having memories of our last trip into Quehalost and the red wyrm’s village. Once and a while during my practice I would feel the sensation as I went through the motions of my fighting strokes with my sword during my daily rigor.”

Brandt leaned back in his chair, “Tell me more of these sensations. Describe to me how they feel within your body. Describing how your body reacts to them will help me understand their origin.”

Ischarus immediately began again as if he was anticipating the question. “There are at times two distinct feelings. I feel these most noticeably during swordplay and practice. One of the sensations is not unlike the pins and needles feeling when an arm or a leg loses circulation for a short time. The other sensation is quite cold. It is as if the heat drains out of my arm. The rest of the sensations are not so easily distinguished from another.”

Brandt leaned forward, intrigued by Ischarus’ description. “I gathered from Rhema earlier that your swordplay is your livelihood. I suppose if you are undergoing your final step in maturity that it is much more than completely symbolic that your sword arm is affected by these feelings. I have a hunch, if you are prepared to listen. Although you will be in some pain, draw your sword. If I am right, the memory of the pain of combat may just intensify the transformation occurring within you for it to be observable. If that is true, then Grick may have done you a tremendous service.”

Ischarus stood, fighting back the pain that shot through the muscles of his leg. With both hands he focused intently on removing the small leather straps that kept his sword in its scabbard and with a sudden spark of motion a metallic ring shot through the room. Ischarus’ sword was now poised and ready in his right hand. The sudden twisting motion of drawing the sword from its scabbard put tension upon his leg and he cried out in pain. His right hand gripped tightly around the hilt of his sword as it looked to ease the pain.

Brandt noticed a faint magical aura around Ischarus as the pain shot through his body. Following a master’s instincts, Brandt quickly held out his left hand and shouted to Ischarus, “Now, don’t think about it – just touch my wrist!”

Ischarus stretched his left arm forward and touched Brandt on his left wrist. Instantly the smell of melting flesh filled the room. Brandt stepped backwards from where Ischarus stood but before he had moved he looked at Ischarus and saw the magical aura move from his right hand through his body and discharge through his extended left hand. Brandt looked down at the flesh on his hand and saw that it had been burned as if a flask of burning oil had been poured over the skin. As Brandt looked down at his wrist, Ischarus likewise looked at what he had done to Brandt.

Ischarus spoke as the shock of the action caught up with him. “Sir, I meant no offense!” Ischarus blurted out his apology at the surprise of seeing Brandt injured. “If I knew I was capable of injuring you in that manner I would not have touched you!” Ischarus was horrified at his action.

Brandt grimaced through the pain. “When I told you to touch me I assumed that there would be injury to me. I did not expect an acid burn, however. Either way, with me it is little matter.”

Brandt stepped back from Ischarus another step and rested his right hand gently over the burned flesh of his left wrist. He spoke the simple words he had heard Charis speak elsewhere. “Bondras-tol Egro” A white light emanated from his right hand through his wrist. In a matter of seconds his wrist was healed. When he moved his right hand, Ischarus saw that not even a scar remained where the acidic burns had once been.

Brandt flexed his wrist slightly and winced at the pain as Ischarus simply looked on in awe. “There now, I am good as new. My wrist will heal. And it would seem that we will both have subtle pain to remind us of your struggle while you learn your new gifts.”

Ischarus replied and was still a bit embarrassed at injuring Brandt, even if it was unintentional. “You must believe me that I meant no harm.”

Brandt returned Ischarus’ apology with a kind smile and soft words. “There is no harm done. Believe it or not, you just cast your first spell – and I believe it was of the arcane nature. Time will tell, Ischarus, as to whether your natural gift is of magic or religion. But given the way that it is manifesting and the fact that you are skilled at swordplay, I would assume it is arcane.”

Ischarus unintentionally cocked his head to the left as Brandt gave his revelation into Ischarus’ transformation. “You mean I can cast spells? But, I’m a swordsman! I’m not a spell caster like Semeion!”

Brandt placed his right hand on Ischarus’ left shoulder. “Sheath your sword and have a seat, Ischarus. It would seem that we have a bit of learning to do. And remember, you are only at the beginning of your journey. My guess is that neither you nor I can foresee where these things will take you in the end.”[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 17, 2006)

Ischarus wrinkled his eyelids toward Brandt, but knew that the wizened elder had likely been down this path with others.  His instincts had been right so far, even if it did lead to his own injury.  In fact, his instincts had proven reliable even in the event of the injury, although Brandt himself had not expected to be burned by acid.  In the end, Ischarus did sheath his sword and sit back down in one of the plush red chairs.  Brandt sat opposite him and a conversation much like the one between Rhema and Brandt followed.  Ischarus spoke of his hometown, his father dragon, his training as a swordsman, and his adventures in Quehalost.  

After about and hour, Ischarus had shifted his legs once too often and Brandt noticed his fidgeting.  “So, you’ve come far by using that sword of yours.  Your reliance upon the sword is significant and I doubt that’ll change any time in the future.  But I believe it is my calling to see that you learn how to teach yourself your newly developing habits.  Care to give it a shot?”

Ischarus smiled; he was eager to get out of the chair.  As soon as he moved, however, he felt the ache in his leg from the earlier healing.  “I would like the chance to learn, but I’m afraid that my leg may not be willing.  Besides, Bracchius told me to keep from straining it.”

Brandt smiled broadly, his eyes scheming with an obvious thought beyond his response to Ischarus’ query.  “Bracchius is an able healer, but do not forget that I am also significant in my own right.  I would not be working in conjunction with a temple if I did not have divinely granted powers of my own.  If anything should happen to you, I can fix it.  Trust me.”

The last two words offered by Brandt held a clearly mischievous tone.  There was certainly something that Brandt was planning, and his tone aroused a deep curiosity within Ischarus.  Yet, Ischarus feebly offered up one more expression of caution.  “And what of the leg pain?”

Brandt erupted in laughter, but his laughter had a distinct lack of amusement.  The eruption of noise was more like what Ischarus was used to hearing from a card player who had just suckered him into betting his last gold on the table.  After the short laugh, Brandt added, “The battlefield does not wait for you to be free of pain, Ischarus.  And I believe you already know that through your experience.  If you wish to learn, you must practice whether you feel prepared or not.  There is no other option if you wish to survive against the foes who will no doubt seek you out in Quehalost.  Now get on your feat and give me your sword.”

The last sentence was spoken with the same near magical quality that instantly allows any parent to automatically get the attention of their own children.  Ischarus immediately obeyed without hesitation, not wanting to disappoint Brandt with another comment.  Ischarus drew his weapon and handed it to Brandt in the same manner that his weapons master trainer had taught him.  The sword was extended to Brandt hilt first with the flat edge of the blade lying upon Ischarus’ outstretched palms.

Brandt took the sword and smiled.  Nodding in a general direction, Brandt spoke softly, “Daancrah Pashfuul.”  As Brandt concluded the spell a small creature appeared in the middle of the room.

The creature looked rather much like a fat, ugly, yellow blob.  The creature had long arms that dragged on the floor as it appeared before Ischarus.  Its light green beady eyes quickly found Ischarus in the room.  Somewhere out of the indistinguishable fat roll where the face should be located it almost appeared to smile in a menacing way.  It lifted its hands off of the floor and clenched them tightly.

Brandt only offered up a single piece of advice.  “I’d strongly recommend dealing with it quickly.  Beings from the dark realms of evil don’t care for being summoned and they rather enjoy killing.”

Ischarus gave Brandt a quick glance as he broke his stare from sizing up the creature summoned.  He knew enough from talking to Semeion about his training that sometimes surviving a summons could be accomplished by simply avoiding contact with it until the spell ran out.  However, from the look of pleasure of Brandt’s face Ischarus knew that would be one solution that wasn’t available to him.  Ischarus also noted the death grip that Brandt held on his sword.  There would be no retrieving the sword until he had bested the beast with his bare hands.

As Ischarus sized up the summoned creature, it apparently decided to size him up as well.  The creature shifted its fat body around, the rolls of fat twisting and undulating as it rotated its small frame.  The creature stepped forward a bit and as it moved it lifted its long arms up from resting on the ground.  The rolls of fat underneath each arm flapped with each movement.

Ischarus stepped forward, and his previously wounded leg muscles shot signals of pain to his brain.  On top of the normal pain from being healed, they were stiff from sitting so long as Ischarus talked to Brandt.  Ischarus growled as his brain registered the pain.  He clenched his teeth firmly and inhaled deeply.

The beast surprised Ischarus at how fast such a fat body and stubby legs could move.  He nearly underestimated the creature’s reach and only narrowly dodged the evil beast’s first fist assault.  Ischarus returned with a swing of his own.  The swing missed, and as he swung he had to catch his balance because he had anticipating hitting the solidly obese creature.  Once more pain ripped through Ischarus’ leg as it complained against the unusual workout.

The creature lifted both fists above his head in a super smash attack, but Ischarus was able to shuffle out of the way before the blow could connect.  He knew his mobility was being severely compromised on account of the pain in his leg.  In spite of his reduced mobility he was also quite sure that his fat opponent was significantly more agile than he looked.  Ischarus swung again and landed a solid blow.  The obese opponent’s fat laden body absorbed the shock easily and Ischarus could almost see another evil grin coming from where the face should be if the creature hadn’t been so fat.

Ischarus felt his anger rising inside him at his ineffectiveness in this combat.  He doubted for a moment that this was a test of his pride.  For just a second Ischarus contemplated winning by tactically avoiding the summoned creature long enough for the spell to wear out.  However, the temptation didn’t last long and as Ischarus moved again to dodge another blow he winced in pain and nearly pulled up lame on his recovering leg.  He shot a glance towards Brandt.  The religious mage sat watching the combat with all the interest of a fanatical fan observing an excellently performed bullfight.

Ischarus angrily scowled at his opponent and clenched his fist tightly.  As he did, Brandt noticed that Ischarus’ right hand developed a faint red aura.  Ischarus struck, and landed another solid blow.  The red aura passed from his hand into the creature and only then did Ischarus himself notice the magical discharge.  Although it felt like power was drained from his being, the release of the built up energy felt very satisfying.  Ischarus gave a quick shout of joy as the blow landed.

Surprisingly, as the blow landed Ischarus saw his opponent nearly fade from sight.  He could still see the faint outline of his combatant, but it appeared as though the fat laden opponent had lost touch with the physical world and was a mere ghost.  Of course, Ischarus knew at once what was happening.  He lowered his defensive posture and as the creature threatened to attack once more Ischarus offered up no resistance.  The outline of the creature’s hand struck out at Ischarus and appeared to pass straight through the pained combatant.

Ischarus shook his head as he ignored the strike and slowly turned to face Brandt.  “An illusion?  You put me up against an illusion?”

The obese opponent continued to fight against Ischarus as though it was not aware that Ischarus had not felt its last blow.  As Brandt looked on, a fat fist launched itself harmless at Ischarus’ midsection and emerged out the other side.  The illusion tilted its head back in a simple howl of joy at the perceived howl.  Ischarus was either ignoring these attacks or simply oblivious to the fact that the illusionary opponent continued the pursuit.

However, Brandt appeared rather amused.  He grinned widely enough to expose several of his front teeth and as Ischarus was struck a second time Brandt spoke.  “You didn’t honestly think that I had the power to summon real minions of evil, did you?  And certainly you did not think I would summon them here and risk diverting their attention away from Quehalost and onto Tongra?  It is bad enough that they are already so concentrated in Quehalost.  But at least there they fight among each other!”

Ischarus could only shake his head at the fact that the simple illusion had managed to trick him.  The pain fromhis leg and his desire to please Brandt had blinded him from the truth.

Brandt continued, “As you have spoken, I believe that the source of your power stems from combat.  Come, sit.  Let us talk some more of this now that you have stretched your leg.”

As Ischarus moved to sit in his chair, the illusionary outline followed Ischarus.  Ischarus sighed and Brandt realized that his game had lost its fun for Ischarus.  With a mere thought Brandt dismissed the effects of the spell and the outline vanished from sight.  Once they were seated they spoke of overcoming the pain in Ischarus leg and the motivations within combat.  It was clear that Brandt did not intend to make Ischarus a better fighter.  However Brandt intended to make Ischarus a smarter fighter.  

When they had talked long enough for Ischarus’ pained leg to grow restless again Brandt concluded with an invitation to rise out of the chairs.  “I think we have had enough for today.  Over the next few days I hope that you will discover what that latest spell was in addition to developing the ability to use your magic outside of combat.  For now, I think it is promising that we know from which arena in your life your magic stems.”

Brandt rose and handed Ischarus his sword in the same manner that Ischarus had given it to him.  Ischarus readily accepted his blade back and sheathed it.  Together the men left Brandt’s office and headed for Brandt’s house.  The first day of Ischarus’ new training had came and gone rather successfully.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Ischarus wrinkled his eyelids toward Brandt, but knew that the wizened elder had likely been down this path with others. His instincts had been right so far, even if it did lead to his own injury. In fact, his instincts had proven reliable even in the event of the injury, although Brandt himself had not expected to be burned by acid. In the end, Ischarus did sheath his sword and sit back down in one of the plush red chairs. Brandt sat opposite him and a conversation much like the one between Rhema and Brandt followed. Ischarus spoke of his hometown, his father dragon, his training as a swordsman, and his adventures in Quehalost. 

After about and hour, Ischarus had shifted his legs once too often and Brandt noticed his fidgeting. “So, you’ve come far by using that sword of yours. Your reliance upon the sword is significant and I doubt that’ll change any time in the future. But I believe it is my calling to see that you learn how to teach yourself your newly developing habits. Care to give it a shot?”

Ischarus smiled; he was eager to get out of the chair. As soon as he moved, however, he felt the ache in his leg from the earlier healing. “I would like the chance to learn, but I’m afraid that my leg may not be willing. Besides, Bracchius told me to keep from straining it.”

Brandt smiled broadly, his eyes scheming with an obvious thought beyond his response to Ischarus’ query. “Bracchius is an able healer, but do not forget that I am also significant in my own right. I would not be working in conjunction with a temple if I did not have divinely granted powers of my own. If anything should happen to you, I can fix it. Trust me.”

The last two words offered by Brandt held a clearly mischievous tone. There was certainly something that Brandt was planning, and his tone aroused a deep curiosity within Ischarus. Yet, Ischarus feebly offered up one more expression of caution. “And what of the leg pain?”

Brandt erupted in laughter, but his laughter had a distinct lack of amusement. The eruption of noise was more like what Ischarus was used to hearing from a card player who had just suckered him into betting his last gold on the table. After the short laugh, Brandt added, “The battlefield does not wait for you to be free of pain, Ischarus. And I believe you already know that through your experience. If you wish to learn, you must practice whether you feel prepared or not. There is no other option if you wish to survive against the foes who will no doubt seek you out in Quehalost. Now get on your feat and give me your sword.”

The last sentence was spoken with the same near magical quality that instantly allows any parent to automatically get the attention of their own children. Ischarus immediately obeyed without hesitation, not wanting to disappoint Brandt with another comment. Ischarus drew his weapon and handed it to Brandt in the same manner that his weapons master trainer had taught him. The sword was extended to Brandt hilt first with the flat edge of the blade lying upon Ischarus’ outstretched palms.

Brandt took the sword and smiled. Nodding in a general direction, Brandt spoke softly, “Daancrah Pashfuul.” As Brandt concluded the spell a small creature appeared in the middle of the room.

The creature looked rather much like a fat, ugly, yellow blob. The creature had long arms that dragged on the floor as it appeared before Ischarus. Its light green beady eyes quickly found Ischarus in the room. Somewhere out of the indistinguishable fat roll where the face should be located it almost appeared to smile in a menacing way. It lifted its hands off of the floor and clenched them tightly.

Brandt only offered up a single piece of advice. “I’d strongly recommend dealing with it quickly. Beings from the dark realms of evil don’t care for being summoned and they rather enjoy killing.”

Ischarus gave Brandt a quick glance as he broke his stare from sizing up the creature summoned. He knew enough from talking to Semeion about his training that sometimes surviving a summons could be accomplished by simply avoiding contact with it until the spell ran out. However, from the look of pleasure of Brandt’s face Ischarus knew that would be one solution that wasn’t available to him. Ischarus also noted the death grip that Brandt held on his sword. There would be no retrieving the sword until he had bested the beast with his bare hands.

As Ischarus sized up the summoned creature, it apparently decided to size him up as well. The creature shifted its fat body around, the rolls of fat twisting and undulating as it rotated its small frame. The creature stepped forward a bit and as it moved it lifted its long arms up from resting on the ground. The rolls of fat underneath each arm flapped with each movement.

Ischarus stepped forward, and his previously wounded leg muscles shot signals of pain to his brain. On top of the normal pain from being healed, they were stiff from sitting so long as Ischarus talked to Brandt. Ischarus growled as his brain registered the pain. He clenched his teeth firmly and inhaled deeply.

The beast surprised Ischarus at how fast such a fat body and stubby legs could move. He nearly underestimated the creature’s reach and only narrowly dodged the evil beast’s first fist assault. Ischarus returned with a swing of his own. The swing missed, and as he swung he had to catch his balance because he had anticipating hitting the solidly obese creature. Once more pain ripped through Ischarus’ leg as it complained against the unusual workout.

The creature lifted both fists above his head in a super smash attack, but Ischarus was able to shuffle out of the way before the blow could connect. He knew his mobility was being severely compromised on account of the pain in his leg. In spite of his reduced mobility he was also quite sure that his fat opponent was significantly more agile than he looked. Ischarus swung again and landed a solid blow. The obese opponent’s fat laden body absorbed the shock easily and Ischarus could almost see another evil grin coming from where the face should be if the creature hadn’t been so fat.

Ischarus felt his anger rising inside him at his ineffectiveness in this combat. He doubted for a moment that this was a test of his pride. For just a second Ischarus contemplated winning by tactically avoiding the summoned creature long enough for the spell to wear out. However, the temptation didn’t last long and as Ischarus moved again to dodge another blow he winced in pain and nearly pulled up lame on his recovering leg. He shot a glance towards Brandt. The religious mage sat watching the combat with all the interest of a fanatical fan observing an excellently performed bullfight.

Ischarus angrily scowled at his opponent and clenched his fist tightly. As he did, Brandt noticed that Ischarus’ right hand developed a faint red aura. Ischarus struck, and landed another solid blow. The red aura passed from his hand into the creature and only then did Ischarus himself notice the magical discharge. Although it felt like power was drained from his being, the release of the built up energy felt very satisfying. Ischarus gave a quick shout of joy as the blow landed.

Surprisingly, as the blow landed Ischarus saw his opponent nearly fade from sight. He could still see the faint outline of his combatant, but it appeared as though the fat laden opponent had lost touch with the physical world and was a mere ghost. Of course, Ischarus knew at once what was happening. He lowered his defensive posture and as the creature threatened to attack once more Ischarus offered up no resistance. The outline of the creature’s hand struck out at Ischarus and appeared to pass straight through the pained combatant.

Ischarus shook his head as he ignored the strike and slowly turned to face Brandt. “An illusion? You put me up against an illusion?”

The obese opponent continued to fight against Ischarus as though it was not aware that Ischarus had not felt its last blow. As Brandt looked on, a fat fist launched itself harmless at Ischarus’ midsection and emerged out the other side. The illusion tilted its head back in a simple howl of joy at the perceived howl. Ischarus was either ignoring these attacks or simply oblivious to the fact that the illusionary opponent continued the pursuit.

However, Brandt appeared rather amused. He grinned widely enough to expose several of his front teeth and as Ischarus was struck a second time Brandt spoke. “You didn’t honestly think that I had the power to summon real minions of evil, did you? And certainly you did not think I would summon them here and risk diverting their attention away from Quehalost and onto Tongra? It is bad enough that they are already so concentrated in Quehalost. But at least there they fight among each other!”

Ischarus could only shake his head at the fact that the simple illusion had managed to trick him. The pain fromhis leg and his desire to please Brandt had blinded him from the truth.

Brandt continued, “As you have spoken, I believe that the source of your power stems from combat. Come, sit. Let us talk some more of this now that you have stretched your leg.”

As Ischarus moved to sit in his chair, the illusionary outline followed Ischarus. Ischarus sighed and Brandt realized that his game had lost its fun for Ischarus. With a mere thought Brandt dismissed the effects of the spell and the outline vanished from sight. Once they were seated they spoke of overcoming the pain in Ischarus leg and the motivations within combat. It was clear that Brandt did not intend to make Ischarus a better fighter. However Brandt intended to make Ischarus a smarter fighter. 

When they had talked long enough for Ischarus’ pained leg to grow restless again Brandt concluded with an invitation to rise out of the chairs. “I think we have had enough for today. Over the next few days I hope that you will discover what that latest spell was in addition to developing the ability to use your magic outside of combat. For now, I think it is promising that we know from which arena in your life your magic stems.”

Brandt rose and handed Ischarus his sword in the same manner that Ischarus had given it to him. Ischarus readily accepted his blade back and sheathed it. Together the men left Brandt’s office and headed for Brandt’s house. The first day of Ischarus’ new training had came and gone rather successfully.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 18, 2006)

The next day Charis, Semeion, and Rhema woke up early to travel from Huetown to Fingerdale once more.  Of course they wanted to check in on Ischarus and see how his training and healing was progressing, but they also knew that they had a bit of work to do.  It’d been three months since they returned from Quehalost and it was approaching time to go back.  That meant that there would be a deep need for better equipment.  They hadn’t placed a priority on selling the equipment that they had managed to bring back to Tongra from the few resistance squads that they had met in the mountainous passages between here and there.  It was the sale of that equipment and the purchase of any new equipment that would take precedence over meeting with Ischarus.

As they entered Fingerdale again for the second day, Charis couldn’t help but smile.  “At least this time we won’t have to worry about an unintentional sicknesses!  And if we do, I’ll know what to look for this time!”

Rhema chuckled at Charis’ comment.  “I was thinking about the same kind of thing, but I didn’t really want to jinx you.  And I’d rather not deal with anything else today.  We need to get our errands run before Ischarus finishes up with his training.”

As she spoke of her errands, a smile crossed over her face.  Semeion took note of the smile and couldn’t let it go without continuing the conversation. “So, you are obviously looking forward to these errands.  Any particular reason why?”

Rhema nodded, but kept her focus on the road as the walked under the gate to the city.  “There are two shops that we need to visit.  The first one is a blacksmith friend of my father’s.  He keeps my father in supply of the right farming equipment that we need around the villa.  Of course, forging farm equipment is how he keeps his business name clean and well known among the commoners.  His true love is buying and selling weaponry.  The reason my father likes him is simply because he refuses to forge for Lord Ironblood’s army.  Not that he does it to spite the Lord, my guess is that he pays a tax to avoid forging for the army and being blacklisted.  He doesn’t make this known too loudly, but the reason that he doesn’t forge for the army or the city guard is because he knows that they are not always honorable in their methods.  My father and I believe that kind of business ethics is well worth supporting.”

Charis wasn’t quite sure she was following the reason for Rhema’s excitement about the shopping.  “And buying from this man has you that excited?”

Rhema laughed.  “No, I guess I got a bit distracted by Garreth and the _Silver Glaive._  Actually, truth be known I’m honestly much more excited about finally getting out to this little shop that I have been to a few times.  It honestly doesn’t look like much besides an herbalist shop that on the side is deeply involved in mystical activities like telling fortunes and reading palms and stuff.  Of course, that’s merely just part of the business.  The real reason that I am excited to shop there today is because they had this beautiful azure crystal sword that I have wanted to buy for some time.  It’s an absolutely gorgeously crafted sword and they claim that the crystal it is made of is just as hard as forged steel.  Nothing wrong with forged steel, but the ability to carry around a dark blue sword that is just as good as steel is too much to pass up.”

Semeion and Charis each smiled at Rhema’s explanation – more at her enthusiasm than anything else.  They walked a bit further into the city and Rhema pointed down a side road.  “The _Silver Glaive_ is down this road.  We’ll get Garreth to give us a legitimate price for our goods and then split up the funds.  You guys can obviously do what you want with your share of the earnings from the sale.  And no doubt that Garreth would be happy to take your money back in sale of his own items from the price that he gives us.”

They arrived in short order outside the _Silver Glaive_ and Rhema opened the single door leading into the front room.  The door was heavy, and after the three entered the shop Rhema closed the door with a solid thump.  At the sound of the closing door a woman’s voice could be heard from around the corner in the next room.  “Be right with you, I’m pulling my hot water off of the stove for tea as I speak.”

Rhema recognized the voice and in a normal volume spoke to Charis and Semeion.  “That’s Faereena, Garreth’s wife.  She often helps out in the shop, but she helps more than anything with the sales room.  Garreth is a skilled metal smith and anyone who knows him thinks little of his appearance.  But he’s a bit gruff to be a salesman for people who just stumble upon this place.”

In a louder voice, Rhema spoke to the woman in the other room.  “No hurry, Faereena.  We can wait for you to put a tea bag in the water.”

The sound of a mug setting down upon a table could be heard from where the trio stood.  The sound of the mug was followed by an exclamation that rose in volume as Faereena neared the room where Rhema and her companions stood. “Why, Rhema!  I’ve been looking forward to your visit for a while now!  You’ve been away too long.”

Her speech cut off as she rounded the final corner and realized that Ischarus had been replaced with a pair of newcomers.  She continued in her speech and covered her instinctual hesitation.  “So, how is your dad?”

Rhema chuckled.  “Busy as ever on the villa.  Fortunately, he’s in need of little as far as instruments of the field.  Garreth can rest easy over the forge for now.”  The two women shared a short laugh and Rhema continued her greeting.  “Faereena, these are my friends Semeion and Charis.  These two have accompanied Ischarus and me for a few months now.”

Faereena could be seen to visibly exhale a sigh of relief.  “Well, that’s a relief, there lass.  When you showed up with new friends I thought maybe something happened between you and Ischarus.  Or worse yet, I thought something had happened to Ischarus himself.  So where is the lad?”

Charis entered the conversation before Rhema could answer the question.  As she spoke, Charis strolled forward and extended a hand in greeting.  It was then that Charis noted for the first time that Faereena had the best known mark of an elf.  She had pointed ears.  “Ischarus is doing what any man would do given his situation.  He’s off getting special treatment at the temple while we are left to do the legwork.”

Rhema smiled at Charis’ comment and supplied her own explanation.  “He’s getting a religion fix, Faereena.”  Faereena lifted an eyebrow in Rhema’s direction.  Rhema responded to the nonverbal inquiry by offering a bit more of the explanation.  “No, there’s nothing the matter.  He just needed to ask a few questions while we were in the area.” 

Her answer was obviously vague and Faereena knew Rhema had left it vague intentionally.  The saleswoman continued to speak in general terms without forcing the party to feel obligated to say more about Ischarus.  ”Well, at least he isn’t in any kind of trouble, then.  So, what can I do for you this visit through?”

Semeion remained silent, figuring that Charis and Rhema already had the situation in control.  The conversation was heading down the path of business anyway, and he didn’t have any particular love for negotiating prices.  Charis laid out a few weapons onto a table in the room and spoke.  “Well, we understand that your shop here will not only buy a few weapons off of our hand but then you’ll gladly sell us some new ones in exchange?”

Faereena laughed at Charis’ charm.  “Lass, we’ll gladly take weapons off your hands at a fair price and even more gladly take the money back in exchange for equipment of your own choosing.  Why don’t you guys who are new take a look around the place while I figure out what I can give you for what you brought in.”

Rhema patted her pocket, “We’ve brought additional resources, Faereena.  I think we’ll be looking at the fine equipment today.”

The elf woman smiled back at Rhema.  “Well, Garreth does fine work with his hammer.  And he enjoys making items that people find interesting.  Sure, he can make a standard item that serves well in the field.  And for the most part that’s exactly what he does.  But when he gets inspired I think you guys will find that his work is rather extraordinary.”

Faereena set about to evaluating the weapons and other items that they had taken off of the denizens and highwaymen that they had encountered between Fingerdale, Quehalost, and back again.  As she worked, Charis and Semeion looked over the weapons on display.  They casually spoke to one another as the browsed.  Eventually Charis decided to test one of Garreth’s heavy picks in her hand and seemed quite pleased with the balance.  The pick end was shaped normally as she expected, but the handle was forged and hammered so that the metal handle looked as though it were a basket weave pattern that was spiraling around the handle to the very end.  At the end of the handle a metal ball that was nearly double the radius of the handle had been placed as a guard and counterbalance for the weight of the pick end.  Charis decided that it was this ball that made the weapon so superior since it did an effective job of counterbalancing the weight of the pick in her hand in almost any position that she held it.  She motioned to Semeion to pick something up and try the balance of the item for himself while she continued to test Garreth’s design against one of the picks she had found while traveling through the tunnels.  Ultimately, Garreth’s design was so superior that she placed her own pick upon the stack of items Faereena was evaluating.  

Faereena smiled and noticed the pleased expression upon Charis’ face.  “I told you, didn’t I?  Garreth does good work!  I knew you wouldn’t be disappointed.”

Semeion was inspired by the quality Charis had found in one of Garreth’s picks.  He turned to Rhema and waited until he had her attention.  “Do you want either of the daggers that we had found in the tunnels?  I know that they’re of quite good quality, but I am thinking of selling them and wanted to give you the chance to take one first.”

Rhema declined the offer with a twinkle in her eye and a curious shake of the head.  Semeion knew what the motion meant.  Rhema was still convinced to pick up her azure crystal sword.

Having received the answer he sought, Semeion placed the daggers on top of the pile that Faereena was evaluating.  Faereena immediately took note of them.  “I hope I don’t need to tell you that these daggers are a pair of finely made instruments themselves.  I’ll gladly take them off of your hands as it’ll save Garreth some work in duplicating their quality.  I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were selling.  These items are nearly of the same quality that Garreth is capable of making.”

Semeion smiled at the saleswoman’s honorable assertion and replied, “Daggers just don’t feel right at my side when Ischarus has his sword and Charis has her pick.  I want something a little more noticeable.” 

His eyes spied a well crafted rapier hanging on the far wall and he walked over to it and lifted it off of its hook.  Semeion carefully unsheathed the rapier and noted that at first the blade looked as though it was simple undecorated steel.  However, once he had the blade off of the wall and in his hand he could see that the only decoration on the blade was on the top of the hand guard and therefore away from his hand.  The top of the hand guard was clearly carved with the face of a dwarf on the top.  In fact, the carving was such that the actual blade of the rapier substituted for the nose of the inscribed dwarf’s face!  Semeion laughed quietly to himself as he examined the simple carving.  Once he had seen the dwarf’s face, he also realized that the strip of metal which ran from the hand guard to the end of the handle which was intended to protect his fingers was also lightly carved.  In the greater image this piece of metal became a long dwarven beard when looked at from any angle that allowed the dwarf face to be seen.  More to himself than anyone else, Semeion spoke upon seeing the humorous carving atop the hand guard.  “If this isn’t the humor of the elves!”  He quickly added the item to his inventory.

Rhema was also looking at a weapon, although it was clear that the weapon she held was not one in which she had been trained.  She had lifted up a long sword, almost identical in shape to the weapon Ischarus was currently using in his training.  When she realized Semeion and Charis had found something to please themselves she added, “I think it is time Ischarus got a new blade, what do you think?”

Semeion added, “I certainly think that he earned it, so long as the blade he currently uses doesn’t have any emotional ties to him.”

Rhema replied quickly, “Heavens no!  That sword is an old instrument that my father gave him one day.  It’s nothing but a beginner sword in truth.  This one here done by Garreth is a much better sword.  Just look at it!”

The sword was indeed a nicely forged sword.  The blade had been forged hard and fast and it shined from almost any direction.  As Rhema examined the blade, she found that a small verse had been inscribed where the handle met the hilt.  The verse was inscribed in the tongue of the elves, and Faereena commented on the inscription as she finished up her calculations.  “I’ll let Ischarus figure out what it means before I tell you.”

Rhema also noted that while the blade shined from almost any angle, the hilt was the opposite.  A dark blue sapphire had been encrusted in the bottom of the hilt, and the dark gemstone blended in magnificently with the dark hilt.  She could imagine Ischarus proudly drawing the blade.  The hilt dark would be in his hands, the sapphire only occasionally glistening below his lowest fingers.  The blade of the sword would shimmer in any light in contrast to Ischarus’ hands and the hilt of the sword.  She carefully sheathed the sword and added it to her belongings.

Once they had all finished, Faereena informed them of how much they owed on top of the value for their trade in weapons.  The three weapons they had purchased were considerably of a finer make than any of the weapons they brought to sell except for the pair of daggers.  Semeion, Rhema, and Charis each paid their share of the debt and bid Faereena farewell.  

As they left the smith’s salesroom, each of the trio bubbled with anticipation.  Now it was time to seek out the mystical herbalist shop that Rhema had been excited about earlier.


[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
The next day Charis, Semeion, and Rhema woke up early to travel from Huetown to Fingerdale once more. Of course they wanted to check in on Ischarus and see how his training and healing was progressing, but they also knew that they had a bit of work to do. It’d been three months since they returned from Quehalost and it was approaching time to go back. That meant that there would be a deep need for better equipment. They hadn’t placed a priority on selling the equipment that they had managed to bring back to Tongra from the few resistance squads that they had met in the mountainous passages between here and there. It was the sale of that equipment and the purchase of any new equipment that would take precedence over meeting with Ischarus.

As they entered Fingerdale again for the second day, Charis couldn’t help but smile. “At least this time we won’t have to worry about an unintentional sicknesses! And if we do, I’ll know what to look for this time!”

Rhema chuckled at Charis’ comment. “I was thinking about the same kind of thing, but I didn’t really want to jinx you. And I’d rather not deal with anything else today. We need to get our errands run before Ischarus finishes up with his training.”

As she spoke of her errands, a smile crossed over her face. Semeion took note of the smile and couldn’t let it go without continuing the conversation. “So, you are obviously looking forward to these errands. Any particular reason why?”

Rhema nodded, but kept her focus on the road as the walked under the gate to the city. “There are two shops that we need to visit. The first one is a blacksmith friend of my father’s. He keeps my father in supply of the right farming equipment that we need around the villa. Of course, forging farm equipment is how he keeps his business name clean and well known among the commoners. His true love is buying and selling weaponry. The reason my father likes him is simply because he refuses to forge for Lord Ironblood’s army. Not that he does it to spite the Lord, my guess is that he pays a tax to avoid forging for the army and being blacklisted. He doesn’t make this known too loudly, but the reason that he doesn’t forge for the army or the city guard is because he knows that they are not always honorable in their methods. My father and I believe that kind of business ethics is well worth supporting.”

Charis wasn’t quite sure she was following the reason for Rhema’s excitement about the shopping. “And buying from this man has you that excited?”

Rhema laughed. “No, I guess I got a bit distracted by Garreth and the Silver Glaive. Actually, truth be known I’m honestly much more excited about finally getting out to this little shop that I have been to a few times. It honestly doesn’t look like much besides an herbalist shop that on the side is deeply involved in mystical activities like telling fortunes and reading palms and stuff. Of course, that’s merely just part of the business. The real reason that I am excited to shop there today is because they had this beautiful azure crystal sword that I have wanted to buy for some time. It’s an absolutely gorgeously crafted sword and they claim that the crystal it is made of is just as hard as forged steel. Nothing wrong with forged steel, but the ability to carry around a dark blue sword that is just as good as steel is too much to pass up.”

Semeion and Charis each smiled at Rhema’s explanation – more at her enthusiasm than anything else. They walked a bit further into the city and Rhema pointed down a side road. “The Silver Glaive is down this road. We’ll get Garreth to give us a legitimate price for our goods and then split up the funds. You guys can obviously do what you want with your share of the earnings from the sale. And no doubt that Garreth would be happy to take your money back in sale of his own items from the price that he gives us.”

They arrived in short order outside the Silver Glaive and Rhema opened the single door leading into the front room. The door was heavy, and after the three entered the shop Rhema closed the door with a solid thump. At the sound of the closing door a woman’s voice could be heard from around the corner in the next room. “Be right with you, I’m pulling my hot water off of the stove for tea as I speak.”

Rhema recognized the voice and in a normal volume spoke to Charis and Semeion. “That’s Faereena, Garreth’s wife. She often helps out in the shop, but she helps more than anything with the sales room. Garreth is a skilled metal smith and anyone who knows him thinks little of his appearance. But he’s a bit gruff to be a salesman for people who just stumble upon this place.”

In a louder voice, Rhema spoke to the woman in the other room. “No hurry, Faereena. We can wait for you to put a tea bag in the water.”

The sound of a mug setting down upon a table could be heard from where the trio stood. The sound of the mug was followed by an exclamation that rose in volume as Faereena neared the room where Rhema and her companions stood. “Why, Rhema! I’ve been looking forward to your visit for a while now! You’ve been away too long.”

Her speech cut off as she rounded the final corner and realized that Ischarus had been replaced with a pair of newcomers. She continued in her speech and covered her instinctual hesitation. “So, how is your dad?”

Rhema chuckled. “Busy as ever on the villa. Fortunately, he’s in need of little as far as instruments of the field. Garreth can rest easy over the forge for now.” The two women shared a short laugh and Rhema continued her greeting. “Faereena, these are my friends Semeion and Charis. These two have accompanied Ischarus and me for a few months now.”

Faereena could be seen to visibly exhale a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s a relief, there lass. When you showed up with new friends I thought maybe something happened between you and Ischarus. Or worse yet, I thought something had happened to Ischarus himself. So where is the lad?”

Charis entered the conversation before Rhema could answer the question. As she spoke, Charis strolled forward and extended a hand in greeting. It was then that Charis noted for the first time that Faereena had the best known mark of an elf. She had pointed ears. “Ischarus is doing what any man would do given his situation. He’s off getting special treatment at the temple while we are left to do the legwork.”

Rhema smiled at Charis’ comment and supplied her own explanation. “He’s getting a religion fix, Faereena.” Faereena lifted an eyebrow in Rhema’s direction. Rhema responded to the nonverbal inquiry by offering a bit more of the explanation. “No, there’s nothing the matter. He just needed to ask a few questions while we were in the area.” 

Her answer was obviously vague and Faereena knew Rhema had left it vague intentionally. The saleswoman continued to speak in general terms without forcing the party to feel obligated to say more about Ischarus. ”Well, at least he isn’t in any kind of trouble, then. So, what can I do for you this visit through?”

Semeion remained silent, figuring that Charis and Rhema already had the situation in control. The conversation was heading down the path of business anyway, and he didn’t have any particular love for negotiating prices. Charis laid out a few weapons onto a table in the room and spoke. “Well, we understand that your shop here will not only buy a few weapons off of our hand but then you’ll gladly sell us some new ones in exchange?”

Faereena laughed at Charis’ charm. “Lass, we’ll gladly take weapons off your hands at a fair price and even more gladly take the money back in exchange for equipment of your own choosing. Why don’t you guys who are new take a look around the place while I figure out what I can give you for what you brought in.”

Rhema patted her pocket, “We’ve brought additional resources, Faereena. I think we’ll be looking at the fine equipment today.”

The elf woman smiled back at Rhema. “Well, Garreth does fine work with his hammer. And he enjoys making items that people find interesting. Sure, he can make a standard item that serves well in the field. And for the most part that’s exactly what he does. But when he gets inspired I think you guys will find that his work is rather extraordinary.”

Faereena set about to evaluating the weapons and other items that they had taken off of the denizens and highwaymen that they had encountered between Fingerdale, Quehalost, and back again. As she worked, Charis and Semeion looked over the weapons on display. They casually spoke to one another as the browsed. Eventually Charis decided to test one of Garreth’s heavy picks in her hand and seemed quite pleased with the balance. The pick end was shaped normally as she expected, but the handle was forged and hammered so that the metal handle looked as though it were a basket weave pattern that was spiraling around the handle to the very end. At the end of the handle a metal ball that was nearly double the radius of the handle had been placed as a guard and counterbalance for the weight of the pick end. Charis decided that it was this ball that made the weapon so superior since it did an effective job of counterbalancing the weight of the pick in her hand in almost any position that she held it. She motioned to Semeion to pick something up and try the balance of the item for himself while she continued to test Garreth’s design against one of the picks she had found while traveling through the tunnels. Ultimately, Garreth’s design was so superior that she placed her own pick upon the stack of items Faereena was evaluating. 

Faereena smiled and noticed the pleased expression upon Charis’ face. “I told you, didn’t I? Garreth does good work! I knew you wouldn’t be disappointed.”

Semeion was inspired by the quality Charis had found in one of Garreth’s picks. He turned to Rhema and waited until he had her attention. “Do you want either of the daggers that we had found in the tunnels? I know that they’re of quite good quality, but I am thinking of selling them and wanted to give you the chance to take one first.”

Rhema declined the offer with a twinkle in her eye and a curious shake of the head. Semeion knew what the motion meant. Rhema was still convinced to pick up her azure crystal sword.

Having received the answer he sought, Semeion placed the daggers on top of the pile that Faereena was evaluating. Faereena immediately took note of them. “I hope I don’t need to tell you that these daggers are a pair of finely made instruments themselves. I’ll gladly take them off of your hands as it’ll save Garreth some work in duplicating their quality. I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were selling. These items are nearly of the same quality that Garreth is capable of making.”

Semeion smiled at the saleswoman’s honorable assertion and replied, “Daggers just don’t feel right at my side when Ischarus has his sword and Charis has her pick. I want something a little more noticeable.” 

His eyes spied a well crafted rapier hanging on the far wall and he walked over to it and lifted it off of its hook. Semeion carefully unsheathed the rapier and noted that at first the blade looked as though it was simple undecorated steel. However, once he had the blade off of the wall and in his hand he could see that the only decoration on the blade was on the top of the hand guard and therefore away from his hand. The top of the hand guard was clearly carved with the face of a dwarf on the top. In fact, the carving was such that the actual blade of the rapier substituted for the nose of the inscribed dwarf’s face! Semeion laughed quietly to himself as he examined the simple carving. Once he had seen the dwarf’s face, he also realized that the strip of metal which ran from the hand guard to the end of the handle which was intended to protect his fingers was also lightly carved. In the greater image this piece of metal became a long dwarven beard when looked at from any angle that allowed the dwarf face to be seen. More to himself than anyone else, Semeion spoke upon seeing the humorous carving atop the hand guard. “If this isn’t the humor of the elves!” He quickly added the item to his inventory.

Rhema was also looking at a weapon, although it was clear that the weapon she held was not one in which she had been trained. She had lifted up a long sword, almost identical in shape to the weapon Ischarus was currently using in his training. When she realized Semeion and Charis had found something to please themselves she added, “I think it is time Ischarus got a new blade, what do you think?”

Semeion added, “I certainly think that he earned it, so long as the blade he currently uses doesn’t have any emotional ties to him.”

Rhema replied quickly, “Heavens no! That sword is an old instrument that my father gave him one day. It’s nothing but a beginner sword in truth. This one here done by Garreth is a much better sword. Just look at it!”

The sword was indeed a nicely forged sword. The blade had been forged hard and fast and it shined from almost any direction. As Rhema examined the blade, she found that a small verse had been inscribed where the handle met the hilt. The verse was inscribed in the tongue of the elves, and Faereena commented on the inscription as she finished up her calculations. “I’ll let Ischarus figure out what it means before I tell you.”

Rhema also noted that while the blade shined from almost any angle, the hilt was the opposite. A dark blue sapphire had been encrusted in the bottom of the hilt, and the dark gemstone blended in magnificently with the dark hilt. She could imagine Ischarus proudly drawing the blade. The hilt dark would be in his hands, the sapphire only occasionally glistening below his lowest fingers. The blade of the sword would shimmer in any light in contrast to Ischarus’ hands and the hilt of the sword. She carefully sheathed the sword and added it to her belongings.

Once they had all finished, Faereena informed them of how much they owed on top of the value for their trade in weapons. The three weapons they had purchased were considerably of a finer make than any of the weapons they brought to sell except for the pair of daggers. Semeion, Rhema, and Charis each paid their share of the debt and bid Faereena farewell. 

As they left the smith’s salesroom, each of the trio bubbled with anticipation. Now it was time to seek out the mystical herbalist shop that Rhema had been excited about earlier.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 19, 2006)

Rhema continued to lead them through a network of what felt like back alleys through the rest of the city of Fingerdale.  These were in fact normal streets.  However, the merchant shops that lined the streets took such liberties to extend their storefront out into the street to gain visibility for their wares that the street took on a much more cramped alley feel to it.  Rhema and Semeion were amused to watch Charis’ reaction to some of the various methods of advertising that were employed.  One particular simple magic shop used illusion magic to create a scary dragon head that would rise up with a loud roar at anyone who looked into the shop.  The illusion was so realistic that Rhema and Semeion were taken by surprise; but Charis was completely unprepared for this occurrence and before she knew it she had her new pick in her hand and was ready to defend herself!  Only a convincing appeal from Rhema calmed her down, much to the amusement of several of the nearby merchants.  They had grown accustomed to the initial panic of people passing by.

Eventually the trio came to the herbalist shop that Rhema had spoken of earlier.  It was one of the few shops in their entire walk that had not taken advantage of pouring its wares out onto the street to help advertise.  In fact, it had done simply the opposite.  The merchant shops on either side of this herbal shop had taken over all but a very narrow path into the herbal shop.  This arrangement made the herbalist shop blend into the natural background even more.  It was as if the herbalist desired to keep a low profil and only be found by those with the intention of seeking the shop out.

Semeion looked at the odd arrangement as Rhema found the narrow path and headed toward the building, “How did you ever find this place, Rhema?”

Charis added, “No doubt.  I think that if I was walking down this street in search for it I wouldn’t be able to find it.  It is almost as if the owner doesn’t want to advertise!”

Rhema stopped before entering and spoke softly.  From her tone and volume Charis and Semeion picked up rather easily that the street was not a great place to speak of the shop in great detail.  “The owner doesn’t.  And the only reason at all that I know of this place is that several years back the owner of this place came and asked of a favor from my father.  He could give little in exchange.  Fortunately for him his personality caught my attention immediately.  I was a young teenager at the time and I begged my father to help him just because he seemed like a nice person.  My father then suggested an alternate payment for his assistance.  The owner of this shop agreed to train me in the basics of his craft in exchange for my father’s help.  The owner of this shop helped me begin to learn what I know.  Unfortunately, I quickly surpassed the skill of the owner of the shop and since have had to learn what I know on my own.”

Rhema turned and parted the thick veil of beads that dangled from the top of the entrance to the shop.  There were several rows of beads, and the beads varied in sizes so as to make a very effective barrier to the sounds and lights trying to pass from the outside, through the curtain, and into the shop.  In truth, they also provided a good barrier at keeping sounds originating in the shop with the walls of the shop.  As the trio entered, they saw quart sized glass jars lining the walls on small wooden shelves.  The rows of shelves that held the quart sized jars were floor to ceiling and almost made it impossible to view the walls behind them.  This first room of the store was roughly a mere 10 feet wide and only a good 15 feet deep.  However, there was a door in the middle of the far wall that looked as though to have seen a fair amount of use.

Semeion was intrigued by the patron of the shop.  The figure was a small goblin with bluish highlights to his naturally occurring hair.  His crooked nose and rough skin spoke of the fact that he had not had an easy life.  Before the goblin looked up to see who had entered he began into his typical introductory speech.  “Welcome to the _Translucent Corymb_.  If you need any assistance finding the herb you desire, feel free to ask.”

Rhema cleared her throat a little obviously and spoke.  “We don’t seek herbs, Braagh, you old fool.”

The voice and the mild insult caused the goblin to look up and smile.  Once he had recognized Rhema he spoke softly to her.  “Rhema, my dear.  Good to see you once more!  Come, come now.  Have you come and brought friends to stare at the sword of your dreams?  I’ve saved it for you as I promised.”

Rhema smiled as the goblin slid off of his chair.  Even from a standing height the goblin rose only to the bottom of Rhema’s ribcage.  “Not only have I come to show them the crystal sword – I’ve come to take it off your hands and slip you some profit in the process!”

The goblin smiled even more.  “That is simply wonderful news!  A visit from a friend is good, but a visit from a friend who brings profit is even better!

Braagh took several quick steps and turned the handle on the back door.  The door appeared to be oddly proportioned with the handle located much closer to the ground for the smaller goblin to be able to reach comfortably.  The lower handle gave the top of the door the appearance of a yawning twenty foot mouth as it opened.  As the goblin entered the room the trio could make out several small cases inside the room.  Once they had all entered the back it was clear that this back room was where Braagh kept the wares that he truly cherished.  Everything was under glass and locked.  In fact, everything in the back storeroom that was for sale was also made of crystal.

As Rhema walked into the room, she heard a voice.  The voice sounded nearly ghostly, although it had a significantly female quality to it.  “I have watched you come into this shop for years, Rhema.”

The thin hairs on the back of Rhema’s neck stood on end as a chill shot down Rhema’s spine.  Her voice betrayed a small sense of concern as she asked, “Braagh, are we alone?”

As Braagh reached into one of his pocket and removed a key, he replied, “Do you seek to offend my sensibilities, Rhema?  Of course we are alone!  Nobody knows of the wares of this room unless I desire them to know.”  He smiled politely at her and flipped the key over along his fingers several times.  “So you are really going to take this sword off my hands today?  I can’t believe the day has finally come!  I’m so happy for you!”

As Rhema turned to face the case that held the crystalline weapons and Braagh inserted the key into the lock to open that same case, Rhema heard the strange voice again.  This time the voice was coming from behind her.  “Together we can make each other stronger, Rhema.” 

As Braagh lifted the crystalline sword out of the case with a fair amount of difficulty, for it was a sword designed for someone Rhema’s size and not his own, Rhema spun and turned away from him.  

Braagh wrinkled his eyebrows as she turned away right at the moment he prepared to hand her the sword.  “Rhema, is there something wrong?  You’ve never been this edgy back here.  In fact, normally I can’t get you away from this case.”

Rhema searched the opposite side of the plain room.  The only thing in that area of the room was the other display case filled with a smattering of crystal objects similar to the case Braagh had just opened.  Confused, she turned back around to Braagh and took the sword into her hand.  “Sorry, Braagh.  I really am interested in this sword.”

Rhema’s hand gripped the handle like she had many times before.  The sword felt perfectly balanced in her hand, and she marveled at how the dark blue crystal was just barely light enough to be able to see faint images through the blade itself.  She held the blade up to her eyes and watched as she could barely make out the room and the people within it through the blade.  Of course, everything her eyes perceived through the blade was all heavily tinted from the blue of the crystal.

Charis had been intrigued by the crystal objects upon entering, but until Rhema had actually picked one up she was a bit unsure of them since they were not as common as the steel pick she strapped to her belt.  She looked at Rhema’s pleased expression with the sword and asked, “That is a beautiful sword, Rhema.  Can I hold it for a second?”

Before Rhema could reply in the affirmative she heard the strange voice again.  “Give her the sword, Rhema.  We both know that your power, our power, does not come from weapons.  It comes from your mind.”

Much to the shock of the other three people in the room, Rhema spun on her heels and leveled the sword toward the far wall.  In a firm and surprisingly loud voice Rhema commanded an order into the emptiness.  “I have had enough of your hidden speech.  I demand that you show yourself!”

A few moments of awkward silence settled over the room before Semeion spoke.  “Uh, Rhema?  Are you hearing voices?  Because I’ve not heard a word.”

Instinctively Braagh locked up the case from which he had drawn Rhema’s sword and with a simple flick of his wrist the key was back into the hidden pocket where it properly belonged.  Charis spun in the direction that Rhema pointed and hoisted her pick in a defensive posture as well.  As the others turned, Semeion also turned and stared at what appeared to be an empty wall with a case in front of it.

Rhema heard the voice again.  “Give the sword to your friend to hold.  Search your mind.  Your mind has called out to me for years now.  You can find me if  you know where to look.”

“There it was again!  Tell me you didn’t hear it!”  The weight of holding the sword horizontally before her began to cause her hand to waver a bit.  She lowered the sword as the voice commanded.

Semeion and Charis simply shook their heads as Rhema looked to them for support.  Once she realized that she truly was the only one hearing the voice she decided to do as the voice suggested.  She turned to Charis and handed her the sword.  “Sure, Charis.  You can see the sword.  Go ahead and take it, I think you’ll have to trust me on this one.”

Charis and Semeion exchanged a quick and confused look but decided that they were in no position to argue with Rhema.  She was apparently the only one who was supposed to know what was going on.  Charis stowed her pick onto her belt and took the sword from Rhema.  She was indeed impressed with the natural balance that the crystalline sword provided in her hand.

As she gave the sword to Charis, Rhema noticed that Braagh had a smug smile on his lips.  In a rather sharp tone stemming from the confusion of the incidents with the voices, Rhema demanded information from Braagh.  “And just what are you grinning at, Braagh?”

Braagh didn’t answer. The short creature before them merely shook his head from side to side.  Rather intentionally, he forced the smug smile from his face until Rhema turned back around to the opposite case.  Once he was sure that her attention was otherwise focused elsewhere, the smile returned to the goblin’s expression.

The voice entered Rhema’s mind once more.  “Good.  Now, use your mind.  Your mind has been calling out to me for years.  Together we can become strong.  Use your mind to find me.”

In an odd manner, Rhema spoke aloud in response to the voice.  Charis and Semeion once more exchanged confused looks as the response made no sense without the reason for prompting it.  “How have I been calling for you?  I don’t know how!”  Semeion looked as though he were about to speak, but Braagh and Charis both motioned for him to remain quiet.

The voice returned once more to Rhema’s mind.  “I cannot guide you in what you already know how to do yourself.  You must have confidence that you know what you are doing.  Use your mind and find me.”

Rhema closed her eyes and focused.  She offered up a small prayer to Ischarus’ god.  When she opened her eyes once more, she stepped forward to the opposite case and began to look inside.  Very slowly, Braagh moved from behind the one case to the side of the other.  He did not wish to disturb Rhema, so he did not approach the lock on the opposite side from where Rhema looked.

Inside the case, Rhema poured over the contents, hoping to find something that would strike her as being familiar.  She reasoned that if she had been calling out for years, that there must have been something in this case that she had seen in one of her many trips before.  She looked at several crystalline objects.  There were a few crystal shafts that were about two feet long and of a variety of colors.  There were several other crystal swords of varying shapes, sizes, and colors.  There were a few small cases with what looked like crystal shards within the cases. And almost as decoration there were a few simple crystals of various colors simply laying in the case.

Again Rhema spoke aloud to the voice that had appeared in her head.  “There are so many to choose from, how do I know who you are?”

There was no reply.  What had seemed at first to be an intrusion into her mind was now greatly missed.  Her mind felt the mental silence and longed for it to be filled with advice.  She was trying to solve a puzzle in which the only clue was that she already knew the answer.  The very fact that she didn’t know how to unlock the answer was racing through her mind.

After several minutes of deep thinking, Rhema spoke aloud to allow the logic to come to the open air.  “I believe you are not a weapon, because none of the weapons look familiar or intriguing to me.”  As she spoke, she gestured with her hands.  The action was more of a physical release of nervous energy than anything else. When she stopped gesturing she looked down at her hands before her.  They had come together almost as if she were forming a bowl with her fingers and palms.  Her mind leapt in understanding.  “You are one of the stones being used for decoration!”

Rhema didn’t notice that Braagh’s smug smile turned into a smile of pride at her verbal outburst.  Charis and Semeion did notice it.  The goblin’s smile was infectious as they all began to smile in the realization that Rhema had made a tremendous leap in understanding.  Semeion and Charis slowly stepped towards the case so that they could better see the stones that Rhema had to choose from.  There were at least six that matched the size of the bowl subconsciously formed by Rhema’s hands.  The stones were each colored differently.  There was a dark purple crystal, a pink crystal, a maize crystal, a scarlet crystal, an orange crystal, and a navy blue crystal.

Rhema stepped back to think, slightly bumping into Charis’ right side.  As Rhema’s hands shot out to brace herself from falling, she caught sight of her cloak as it flailed about her as well as her sword that she had asked Charis to hold.  Both of them were a dark blue in color.  Her mind raced back to the case.  “Could the choice be that simple?”

She thought for a moment and looked around the room to find Braagh.  She was amused to find him smiling so proudly and already standing beside the case, key in hand as if he was anticipating the moment to come.  She spoke to the small creature in a soft tone.  “Braagh, could I see …”  Her voice stopped short of making a firm commitment.

Rhema’s finger rested on the glass top and she pointed to the navy blue stone.  The goblin easily rounded the corner of the case and slipped the key into the lock.  It was pretty clear that he was just as excited about what was happening as Rhema.  Charis and Semeion each saw the goblin’s excitement and realized that they were the only two standing on the outside of the experience and looking in.  The others had some inkling as to what was happening while they were simply trying to just understand what was happening.

Rhema finished her thought.  “… the navy … no.  Not the navy blue stone.  The voice that spoke out to me was not a carbon copy of who I am.  The voice that spoke to me was a compliment to who I am.  The voice promised that together we could make each other stronger.  Her mind raced through the selection again as her eyes bounced from crystal to crystal.  I would like to see the scarlet stone, please.”

The familiar voice returned to Rhema’s mind.  “Did I not tell you that you had the ability to find me?  Together we shall enhance each other.  Your mind has awakened me from my natural sleep.  Thank you.”

Rhema stood up and smiled as Braagh removed the scarlet stone from the case.  Charis and Semeion exchanged confused looks one more time as Rhema spoke in response to an unheard prompting.  “You’re welcome, and thank you.”

Charis waited until Rhema had accepted the stone from Braagh before speaking.  “So, can you explain what just happened to those of us sane enough to not hear voices?”  The teasing was intentional and Charis’ face erupted in a broad smile as she spoke to Rhema.

Braagh smiled toward Rhema and the expression informed Rhema that he would address the question.  “These crystals that you interpret as decoration each have within them a deep consciousness.  They are not for sale, and you cannot buy one.  Rather, they lay in waiting for someone to come buy and make a mental connection.  Once that connection has occurred, the crystal responds.  Some of the crystals are aggressive in their approach and other crystals can wait a year, two, five, or even ten years while the mental powers of the one they connected to are established in greater power.  In all cases, however, the psychic power laden deep within the stones is drawn to the power in some people.  The stones enhance the abilities of the ones to whom they are drawn.  It is very much a symbiotic relationship.”

Semeion smiled as he made a connection with his own training.  “So, this stone is more like a psychic familiar for Rhema?”

Braagh nodded.  “As a crude analogy, yes.  In some ways that is a fair assumption.  In other ways there is great difference.”

Rhema stowed the crystal in one of the inner pockets of her cloak.  “You will not let me pay for the crystal, Braagh?  If not, then tell me what I owe for the sword.  I have a feeling that it is almost time to go see Ischarus.”

Braagh replied, “I do not pay for the crystals myself, so I do not charge for them.  As for the sword …”

Rhema settled the debt with Braagh and after a bit more small talk they headed out of the well disguised store toward the center of town.  They would have much to show Ischarus and hopefully he would have much to tell them about his training.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Rhema continued to lead them through a network of what felt like back alleys through the rest of the city of Fingerdale. These were in fact normal streets. However, the merchant shops that lined the streets took such liberties to extend their storefront out into the street to gain visibility for their wares that the street took on a much more cramped alley feel to it. Rhema and Semeion were amused to watch Charis’ reaction to some of the various methods of advertising that were employed. One particular simple magic shop used illusion magic to create a scary dragon head that would rise up with a loud roar at anyone who looked into the shop. The illusion was so realistic that Rhema and Semeion were taken by surprise; but Charis was completely unprepared for this occurrence and before she knew it she had her new pick in her hand and was ready to defend herself! Only a convincing appeal from Rhema calmed her down, much to the amusement of several of the nearby merchants. They had grown accustomed to the initial panic of people passing by.

Eventually the trio came to the herbalist shop that Rhema had spoken of earlier. It was one of the few shops in their entire walk that had not taken advantage of pouring its wares out onto the street to help advertise. In fact, it had done simply the opposite. The merchant shops on either side of this herbal shop had taken over all but a very narrow path into the herbal shop. This arrangement made the herbalist shop blend into the natural background even more. It was as if the herbalist desired to keep a low profil and only be found by those with the intention of seeking the shop out.

Semeion looked at the odd arrangement as Rhema found the narrow path and headed toward the building, “How did you ever find this place, Rhema?”

Charis added, “No doubt. I think that if I was walking down this street in search for it I wouldn’t be able to find it. It is almost as if the owner doesn’t want to advertise!”

Rhema stopped before entering and spoke softly. From her tone and volume Charis and Semeion picked up rather easily that the street was not a great place to speak of the shop in great detail. “The owner doesn’t. And the only reason at all that I know of this place is that several years back the owner of this place came and asked of a favor from my father. He could give little in exchange. Fortunately for him his personality caught my attention immediately. I was a young teenager at the time and I begged my father to help him just because he seemed like a nice person. My father then suggested an alternate payment for his assistance. The owner of this shop agreed to train me in the basics of his craft in exchange for my father’s help. The owner of this shop helped me begin to learn what I know. Unfortunately, I quickly surpassed the skill of the owner of the shop and since have had to learn what I know on my own.”

Rhema turned and parted the thick veil of beads that dangled from the top of the entrance to the shop. There were several rows of beads, and the beads varied in sizes so as to make a very effective barrier to the sounds and lights trying to pass from the outside, through the curtain, and into the shop. In truth, they also provided a good barrier at keeping sounds originating in the shop with the walls of the shop. As the trio entered, they saw quart sized glass jars lining the walls on small wooden shelves. The rows of shelves that held the quart sized jars were floor to ceiling and almost made it impossible to view the walls behind them. This first room of the store was roughly a mere 10 feet wide and only a good 15 feet deep. However, there was a door in the middle of the far wall that looked as though to have seen a fair amount of use.

Semeion was intrigued by the patron of the shop. The figure was a small goblin with bluish highlights to his naturally occurring hair. His crooked nose and rough skin spoke of the fact that he had not had an easy life. Before the goblin looked up to see who had entered he began into his typical introductory speech. “Welcome to the Translucent Corymb. If you need any assistance finding the herb you desire, feel free to ask.”

Rhema cleared her throat a little obviously and spoke. “We don’t seek herbs, Braagh, you old fool.”

The voice and the mild insult caused the goblin to look up and smile. Once he had recognized Rhema he spoke softly to her. “Rhema, my dear. Good to see you once more! Come, come now. Have you come and brought friends to stare at the sword of your dreams? I’ve saved it for you as I promised.”

Rhema smiled as the goblin slid off of his chair. Even from a standing height the goblin rose only to the bottom of Rhema’s ribcage. “Not only have I come to show them the crystal sword – I’ve come to take it off your hands and slip you some profit in the process!”

The goblin smiled even more. “That is simply wonderful news! A visit from a friend is good, but a visit from a friend who brings profit is even better!

Braagh took several quick steps and turned the handle on the back door. The door appeared to be oddly proportioned with the handle located much closer to the ground for the smaller goblin to be able to reach comfortably. The lower handle gave the top of the door the appearance of a yawning twenty foot mouth as it opened. As the goblin entered the room the trio could make out several small cases inside the room. Once they had all entered the back it was clear that this back room was where Braagh kept the wares that he truly cherished. Everything was under glass and locked. In fact, everything in the back storeroom that was for sale was also made of crystal.

As Rhema walked into the room, she heard a voice. The voice sounded nearly ghostly, although it had a significantly female quality to it. “I have watched you come into this shop for years, Rhema.”

The thin hairs on the back of Rhema’s neck stood on end as a chill shot down Rhema’s spine. Her voice betrayed a small sense of concern as she asked, “Braagh, are we alone?”

As Braagh reached into one of his pocket and removed a key, he replied, “Do you seek to offend my sensibilities, Rhema? Of course we are alone! Nobody knows of the wares of this room unless I desire them to know.” He smiled politely at her and flipped the key over along his fingers several times. “So you are really going to take this sword off my hands today? I can’t believe the day has finally come! I’m so happy for you!”

As Rhema turned to face the case that held the crystalline weapons and Braagh inserted the key into the lock to open that same case, Rhema heard the strange voice again. This time the voice was coming from behind her. “Together we can make each other stronger, Rhema.” 

As Braagh lifted the crystalline sword out of the case with a fair amount of difficulty, for it was a sword designed for someone Rhema’s size and not his own, Rhema spun and turned away from him. 

Braagh wrinkled his eyebrows as she turned away right at the moment he prepared to hand her the sword. “Rhema, is there something wrong? You’ve never been this edgy back here. In fact, normally I can’t get you away from this case.”

Rhema searched the opposite side of the plain room. The only thing in that area of the room was the other display case filled with a smattering of crystal objects similar to the case Braagh had just opened. Confused, she turned back around to Braagh and took the sword into her hand. “Sorry, Braagh. I really am interested in this sword.”

Rhema’s hand gripped the handle like she had many times before. The sword felt perfectly balanced in her hand, and she marveled at how the dark blue crystal was just barely light enough to be able to see faint images through the blade itself. She held the blade up to her eyes and watched as she could barely make out the room and the people within it through the blade. Of course, everything her eyes perceived through the blade was all heavily tinted from the blue of the crystal.

Charis had been intrigued by the crystal objects upon entering, but until Rhema had actually picked one up she was a bit unsure of them since they were not as common as the steel pick she strapped to her belt. She looked at Rhema’s pleased expression with the sword and asked, “That is a beautiful sword, Rhema. Can I hold it for a second?”

Before Rhema could reply in the affirmative she heard the strange voice again. “Give her the sword, Rhema. We both know that your power, our power, does not come from weapons. It comes from your mind.”

Much to the shock of the other three people in the room, Rhema spun on her heels and leveled the sword toward the far wall. In a firm and surprisingly loud voice Rhema commanded an order into the emptiness. “I have had enough of your hidden speech. I demand that you show yourself!”

A few moments of awkward silence settled over the room before Semeion spoke. “Uh, Rhema? Are you hearing voices? Because I’ve not heard a word.”

Instinctively Braagh locked up the case from which he had drawn Rhema’s sword and with a simple flick of his wrist the key was back into the hidden pocket where it properly belonged. Charis spun in the direction that Rhema pointed and hoisted her pick in a defensive posture as well. As the others turned, Semeion also turned and stared at what appeared to be an empty wall with a case in front of it.

Rhema heard the voice again. “Give the sword to your friend to hold. Search your mind. Your mind has called out to me for years now. You can find me if you know where to look.”

“There it was again! Tell me you didn’t hear it!” The weight of holding the sword horizontally before her began to cause her hand to waver a bit. She lowered the sword as the voice commanded.

Semeion and Charis simply shook their heads as Rhema looked to them for support. Once she realized that she truly was the only one hearing the voice she decided to do as the voice suggested. She turned to Charis and handed her the sword. “Sure, Charis. You can see the sword. Go ahead and take it, I think you’ll have to trust me on this one.”

Charis and Semeion exchanged a quick and confused look but decided that they were in no position to argue with Rhema. She was apparently the only one who was supposed to know what was going on. Charis stowed her pick onto her belt and took the sword from Rhema. She was indeed impressed with the natural balance that the crystalline sword provided in her hand.

As she gave the sword to Charis, Rhema noticed that Braagh had a smug smile on his lips. In a rather sharp tone stemming from the confusion of the incidents with the voices, Rhema demanded information from Braagh. “And just what are you grinning at, Braagh?”

Braagh didn’t answer. The short creature before them merely shook his head from side to side. Rather intentionally, he forced the smug smile from his face until Rhema turned back around to the opposite case. Once he was sure that her attention was otherwise focused elsewhere, the smile returned to the goblin’s expression.

The voice entered Rhema’s mind once more. “Good. Now, use your mind. Your mind has been calling out to me for years. Together we can become strong. Use your mind to find me.”

In an odd manner, Rhema spoke aloud in response to the voice. Charis and Semeion once more exchanged confused looks as the response made no sense without the reason for prompting it. “How have I been calling for you? I don’t know how!” Semeion looked as though he were about to speak, but Braagh and Charis both motioned for him to remain quiet.

The voice returned once more to Rhema’s mind. “I cannot guide you in what you already know how to do yourself. You must have confidence that you know what you are doing. Use your mind and find me.”

Rhema closed her eyes and focused. She offered up a small prayer to Ischarus’ god. When she opened her eyes once more, she stepped forward to the opposite case and began to look inside. Very slowly, Braagh moved from behind the one case to the side of the other. He did not wish to disturb Rhema, so he did not approach the lock on the opposite side from where Rhema looked.

Inside the case, Rhema poured over the contents, hoping to find something that would strike her as being familiar. She reasoned that if she had been calling out for years, that there must have been something in this case that she had seen in one of her many trips before. She looked at several crystalline objects. There were a few crystal shafts that were about two feet long and of a variety of colors. There were several other crystal swords of varying shapes, sizes, and colors. There were a few small cases with what looked like crystal shards within the cases. And almost as decoration there were a few simple crystals of various colors simply laying in the case.

Again Rhema spoke aloud to the voice that had appeared in her head. “There are so many to choose from, how do I know who you are?”

There was no reply. What had seemed at first to be an intrusion into her mind was now greatly missed. Her mind felt the mental silence and longed for it to be filled with advice. She was trying to solve a puzzle in which the only clue was that she already knew the answer. The very fact that she didn’t know how to unlock the answer was racing through her mind.

After several minutes of deep thinking, Rhema spoke aloud to allow the logic to come to the open air. “I believe you are not a weapon, because none of the weapons look familiar or intriguing to me.” As she spoke, she gestured with her hands. The action was more of a physical release of nervous energy than anything else. When she stopped gesturing she looked down at her hands before her. They had come together almost as if she were forming a bowl with her fingers and palms. Her mind leapt in understanding. “You are one of the stones being used for decoration!”

Rhema didn’t notice that Braagh’s smug smile turned into a smile of pride at her verbal outburst. Charis and Semeion did notice it. The goblin’s smile was infectious as they all began to smile in the realization that Rhema had made a tremendous leap in understanding. Semeion and Charis slowly stepped towards the case so that they could better see the stones that Rhema had to choose from. There were at least six that matched the size of the bowl subconsciously formed by Rhema’s hands. The stones were each colored differently. There was a dark purple crystal, a pink crystal, a maize crystal, a scarlet crystal, an orange crystal, and a navy blue crystal.

Rhema stepped back to think, slightly bumping into Charis’ right side. As Rhema’s hands shot out to brace herself from falling, she caught sight of her cloak as it flailed about her as well as her sword that she had asked Charis to hold. Both of them were a dark blue in color. Her mind raced back to the case. “Could the choice be that simple?”

She thought for a moment and looked around the room to find Braagh. She was amused to find him smiling so proudly and already standing beside the case, key in hand as if he was anticipating the moment to come. She spoke to the small creature in a soft tone. “Braagh, could I see …” Her voice stopped short of making a firm commitment.

Rhema’s finger rested on the glass top and she pointed to the navy blue stone. The goblin easily rounded the corner of the case and slipped the key into the lock. It was pretty clear that he was just as excited about what was happening as Rhema. Charis and Semeion each saw the goblin’s excitement and realized that they were the only two standing on the outside of the experience and looking in. The others had some inkling as to what was happening while they were simply trying to just understand what was happening.

Rhema finished her thought. “… the navy … no. Not the navy blue stone. The voice that spoke out to me was not a carbon copy of who I am. The voice that spoke to me was a compliment to who I am. The voice promised that together we could make each other stronger. Her mind raced through the selection again as her eyes bounced from crystal to crystal. I would like to see the scarlet stone, please.”

The familiar voice returned to Rhema’s mind. “Did I not tell you that you had the ability to find me? Together we shall enhance each other. Your mind has awakened me from my natural sleep. Thank you.”

Rhema stood up and smiled as Braagh removed the scarlet stone from the case. Charis and Semeion exchanged confused looks one more time as Rhema spoke in response to an unheard prompting. “You’re welcome, and thank you.”

Charis waited until Rhema had accepted the stone from Braagh before speaking. “So, can you explain what just happened to those of us sane enough to not hear voices?” The teasing was intentional and Charis’ face erupted in a broad smile as she spoke to Rhema.

Braagh smiled toward Rhema and the expression informed Rhema that he would address the question. “These crystals that you interpret as decoration each have within them a deep consciousness. They are not for sale, and you cannot buy one. Rather, they lay in waiting for someone to come buy and make a mental connection. Once that connection has occurred, the crystal responds. Some of the crystals are aggressive in their approach and other crystals can wait a year, two, five, or even ten years while the mental powers of the one they connected to are established in greater power. In all cases, however, the psychic power laden deep within the stones is drawn to the power in some people. The stones enhance the abilities of the ones to whom they are drawn. It is very much a symbiotic relationship.”

Semeion smiled as he made a connection with his own training. “So, this stone is more like a psychic familiar for Rhema?”

Braagh nodded. “As a crude analogy, yes. In some ways that is a fair assumption. In other ways there is great difference.”

Rhema stowed the crystal in one of the inner pockets of her cloak. “You will not let me pay for the crystal, Braagh? If not, then tell me what I owe for the sword. I have a feeling that it is almost time to go see Ischarus.”

Braagh replied, “I do not pay for the crystals myself, so I do not charge for them. As for the sword …”

Rhema settled the debt with Braagh and after a bit more small talk they headed out of the well disguised store toward the center of town. They would have much to show Ischarus and hopefully he would have much to tell them about his training.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 22, 2006)

The rest of the day passed rather harmlessly from the perspective of Rhema, Semeion, and Charis.  They ran the rest of their errands in the morning and managed to get to the temple just in time to catch Ischarus as he was finishing up a section of training.  With a fair amount of pride, Rhema showed off the sword that she had purchased for Ischarus while they were shopping earlier in the day.  Ischarus could obviously tell that Rhema was proud of the purchase and he could tell simply by handling the sword that the item was of a significantly higher quality than the sword that he currently fought with.  With more than a hint of pleasure he took the sword and scabbard from Rhema.  As he attached the belt around his waist he informed her that he would continue to hold onto both swords until he was done with his training and then return his old sword to Rhema’s father once he was finished.  They all knew that it would take Ischarus a bit of time to grow comfortable with the new sword anyway, even if it was a far superior construction.

Rhema also showed off her own crystal sword, pleased that she had finally been able to save up enough money to purchase the sword.  Of course, she also happily informed Ischarus of the incident at the _Translucent Corymb_ in which she obtained her other newest addition.  Ischarus was more than slightly disappointed to find out that nobody heard the crystal speak except for Rhema.  Truth be told, it was a fact that worried him more than anything else.

The rest of the conversation was short on account of Brandt returning early and looking forward to beginning Ischarus’ training once more.  Brandt hinted at the fact that he was pleased with Ischarus’ progression, although he also hinted at the fact that he and Ischarus had a significant amount of training left to accomplish.  All in all, Brandt explained that he had a total of seven magical abilities that he would like for Ischarus to master before sending him away to complete his training on his own.  Brandt indicated that these seven examples would certainly not give him a complete understanding of the arcane world.  However, these seven examples would provide a solid base upon which the rest of his learning could be built at a later time.

Ischarus and Rhema certainly understood Brandt’s desire to continue the training, and their parting on this day was easier than the day before.  Rhema could see that Ischarus was both mentally and physically healing from their encounters with Grick.  She felt much more comfortable leaving Ischarus alone with Brandt now that she was sure that his healing was not in jeopardy.  They parted company once more.  Rhema returned to her father’s villa with Semeion and Charis while Ischarus returned to his studies with his master.  Brandt suggested that he would send for Rhema, Semeion, and Charis when Ischarus would be ready.

Four days passed before Rhema’s father received a messenger from Brandt at the villa.  The messenger announced that he was from the temple in Fingerdale and that Brandt was sure Ischarus would have mastered his new techniques by sundown of the following day.  Of course, Ischarus was not the only one to have put this break between adventures to good use.  

Over the course of the past few days, Rhema had learned that her new scarlet colored crystal companion was going to be a tremendous advantage in bolstering her will power and ability to make favorable decisions.  The crystalline presence seemed quite confident in its own abilities and seldom forgot to extend the compliments and confidence to include Rhema as well.  Before she had met the crystalline presence she had been working on stretching her powers in a few new directions.  The crystal helped her focus her efforts until she had mastered a few new techniques of her own.

Semeion had taken a bit of time to continue to travel into Fingerdale and seek out a few simple magic shops.  He had hoped to find a link between the shop keeping merchants who were in charge of the shops and the mages that kept them supplied with goods to sell.  Unfortunately, Semeion was unable to convince any of the merchants to reveal their suppliers or to even attempt to arrange a meeting.  The best that Semeion could do was to find a few simple scrolls upon which unfamiliar arcane writing had been scrawled.  He spent many hours deciphering the magical inscriptions and as he did so he realized that he had unlocked a few magical secrets that he had not previously been taught.  He quickly added the magical notations to his own reference sources so that their power would not be lost from his ability to keep them.

During this time, however, Charis was likely the busiest of all of the party.  She was not only learning social etiquette, but she was also given plenty of opportunities around the villa to demonstrate her valuable skills.  As the land drew closer and closer to the time for the harvest, the activity cycle of the villa increased significantly.  As the life cycle of the villa increased, it meant more and more injuries to the servants who worked hard to prepare the land for its harvest.  Charis found herself quickly developing a significant loyal following among the people who worked the villa’s land.  She found that both her skill in treating minor injuries as well as her ability to magically treat the more serious wounds drew great appreciation from those that she healed.  However, perhaps the most important thing that Charis found helpful in living among the people of the villa was the fact that like the majority of them she was also a refugee from Quehalost.  As Charis would heal, those refugees who had been around the villa for more time than Charis were able to explain their own period of transition.  This allowed the servants of the villa to feel as though they were invested in Charis’ own development and transition from slavery to freedom.  Before too long, only Rhema and her father were more popular across the face of the villa than Charis.

The time for the foursome to be reunited came after only a few days, and it wasn’t long at all before Rhema, Ischarus, Charis, and Semeion all found themselves nestled back into the seating area within Brandt’s office.  The sun was just about to set as the day wound down.  All day long Ischarus had thought that Brandt was not acting in his usual manner.  As the day drew on, Brandt seemed to grow more and more excited.  Each time Ischarus would hint as to whether or not Brandt was hiding anything, Brandt would merely allude to being excited about Ischarus’ graduation day from his training.  Yet now that they were all present, Brandt was acting all the more excited.

“I am glad that you have all been gathered here once more in my office,” Brandt began with a broad smile.  Rhema, Charis, and Semeion were equally surprised by this unusual enthusiasm shown by Brandt.  Although they were not as well acquainted with Brandt as Ischarus, they could still tell that he was excited about something.  “I can assure you greatly that your comrade is ready to go forth and adventure with a much renewed and invigorated spirit.”

Everyone smiled at Ischarus, who proudly returned their expressions with a stoic look of accomplishment.  The work had not been easy, and there were a few new bruises that Rhema had noticed upon Ischarus when she arrived.  However, this was neither the time nor the place to question them.  She and the rest of the party were merely glad to have Ischarus back among them.

Brandt continued speaking as he questioned them with an unapologetic spirit.  He quickly transitioned from Ischarus to the party’s future.  “I assume that you will be heading back to Quehalost?” 

Ischarus flashed a quick glance to his friends, but Rhema smiled confidently.  This topic had only begun to appear among the friends before Ischarus had been separated from them.  Yet during Ischarus’ absence this particular topic had come upon quite often.  Each time it was discussed, the return to Quehalost was a simple conclusion to reach.

Ischarus sat while Rhema offered up the answer.  “I believe you can count with an assured spirit that it will not be long before we return to Quehalost.  After all, we have made several trips to Quehalost already.  We are only now getting to the point of making journeys of more than an hour beyond the mountainous passages.  Surely there is a considerable amount of work yet to be accomplished within the land contained by mountains.”

Brandt nodded.  “Indeed there is.  And while you have shown great courage in challenging the authority of a red wyrm and surviving thus far, there are challenges within the land with which you would simply not be prepared for.  To be honest, I am rather confident that there are challenges within the land of Quehalost that I am not prepared for no matter how much I acknowledge that they exist.”

Semeion nodded, understanding that even the magical power of Brandt had its limitations.  Rhema continued, “I believe that we have enough challenge waiting there for us for the time being, sir.”

Brandt smiled slightly, although he didn’t speak quite yet.  He patiently waited for the party to volunteer any information rather than having to probe it out of them.

Charis picked up where Rhema had left off.  “I would like to know the fate of my village, personally.  There is much that I left behind in the manner in which I was taken from Quehalost.  Mind you, I am not angry with how I was taken and there was a reason that I had to be disconnected in the fashion that I was taken.  Yet I know that the presence of Grick means that the village continues on in some form or another.  The power of my dragon father has not been broken.  In fact, it is likely that he has already chosen another Provenience if any women of my tribe survived his rage.  If none survived, then it is likely that my dragon father went out to capture and enslave other women to start fresh.”

Brandt nodded completely in agreement.  He had heard the direction in which the party was leaning.  “I understand your sentiment, Charis.  I cannot know your situation, because like Ischarus my dragon father was a loving and supporting of my development.  My dragon father did not use his obvious power over us as a utensil of fear.  But I do feel the need to remind you that returning home will not be easy.  While you still have great compassion for your people, those who remain will likely see you as a traitor and the reason for their most recent round of great suffering.  If you return to your home village, I must caution you in this.”

Charis nodded, although to a great extent she was blind to the emotional river that would likely burst forth should they return as planned.  Either way, she was confident in her ability to handle it.

Brandt leaned back in his chair and smiled broadly once more.  “And what of you, Semeion?  Do you desire to return back to Quehalost and match wits with the dragon that almost roasted you and your friends?”

Semeion nodded in the affirmative and rested a hand upon Charis’ shoulder.  “I wish to quest for some purpose.  There is no reason to simply study the arcane arts without using it to help people in one form of another.  I can think of no greater need than Quehalost.  Besides, I will support Charis in her desire to return.”

Brandt smiled as he heard the telltale sign of emotion infused into logic.  “Be careful that you do not find yourself standing between love and a fire, then.  For while Quehalost is indeed a place of great need, there is no greater place in which you can be killed where nobody will think anything of it.  Quehalost is a place where heroes can be made, but fools can be lost to the world.”

Semeion’s eyebrows furrowed a bit as he thought deeply about Brandt’s cautionary speech.  He wasn’t quite sure as to whether Brandt was trying to cautiously encourage him or lay a slight insult upon his feet.  Semeion concluded that the answer probably lay in whether he lives through their next mission or dies in the midst of it.

Brandt continued the questioning of the party.  “And of you, Rhema?  Did you have enough time to put words to your thoughts as Charis and Semeion spoke?  Why would you return to Quehalost?”

Rhema’s face grew stern as she thought of her last adventure.  Her thoughts revolved around Druff and if he were even still alive.  It was Druff that had informed them that the trip would have to be related to the previous one.  Now it seemed as though their next journey under the mountains would lead them to the same place for a third time in a row.  “I have a bit of unfinished business left in Quehalost.  I’d like to see it settled one way or another.”

Brandt smiled a crooked smile, almost as if he could read her mind.  “I hope that you finish them satisfactorily before they finish you, Rhema.”  Turning to Ischarus, Brandt asked his final question.  “And what of you?  Why will you step foot into Quehalost once more, Ischarus?”

Ischarus breathed deeply and smiled.  “I agree with my friend Semeion.  There are people in that land who simply are not free.  They are oppressed.  Many are enslaved.  Those who have some freedom live in fear most of their lives.  That life is not any life that I should want myself.  How can I honorably live here in our relative freedom and peace when they do not even have that choice?  Of course, I desire to see my kin again even if they are from a different dragon father.  As Charis spoke of earlier and Rhema also implied, there is work that we left unfinished in the land.  Three months have passed.  It is time to go once more.”

Brandt nodded along with Ischarus, but offered no concluding advice for him as he had done with the others.  Ischarus had been listening to advice from Brandt for five days now.  If that advice hadn’t stuck by now there would be no parting words that would stick!  As Ischarus finished speaking, Brandt leaned back and looked as though he had something to say.  The party sat in silence, waiting for Brandt to speak.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
The rest of the day passed rather harmlessly from the perspective of Rhema, Semeion, and Charis. They ran the rest of their errands in the morning and managed to get to the temple just in time to catch Ischarus as he was finishing up a section of training. With a fair amount of pride, Rhema showed off the sword that she had purchased for Ischarus while they were shopping earlier in the day. Ischarus could obviously tell that Rhema was proud of the purchase and he could tell simply by handling the sword that the item was of a significantly higher quality than the sword that he currently fought with. With more than a hint of pleasure he took the sword and scabbard from Rhema. As he attached the belt around his waist he informed her that he would continue to hold onto both swords until he was done with his training and then return his old sword to Rhema’s father once he was finished. They all knew that it would take Ischarus a bit of time to grow comfortable with the new sword anyway, even if it was a far superior construction.

Rhema also showed off her own crystal sword, pleased that she had finally been able to save up enough money to purchase the sword. Of course, she also happily informed Ischarus of the incident at the Translucent Corymb in which she obtained her other newest addition. Ischarus was more than slightly disappointed to find out that nobody heard the crystal speak except for Rhema. Truth be told, it was a fact that worried him more than anything else.

The rest of the conversation was short on account of Brandt returning early and looking forward to beginning Ischarus’ training once more. Brandt hinted at the fact that he was pleased with Ischarus’ progression, although he also hinted at the fact that he and Ischarus had a significant amount of training left to accomplish. All in all, Brandt explained that he had a total of seven magical abilities that he would like for Ischarus to master before sending him away to complete his training on his own. Brandt indicated that these seven examples would certainly not give him a complete understanding of the arcane world. However, these seven examples would provide a solid base upon which the rest of his learning could be built at a later time.

Ischarus and Rhema certainly understood Brandt’s desire to continue the training, and their parting on this day was easier than the day before. Rhema could see that Ischarus was both mentally and physically healing from their encounters with Grick. She felt much more comfortable leaving Ischarus alone with Brandt now that she was sure that his healing was not in jeopardy. They parted company once more. Rhema returned to her father’s villa with Semeion and Charis while Ischarus returned to his studies with his master. Brandt suggested that he would send for Rhema, Semeion, and Charis when Ischarus would be ready.

Four days passed before Rhema’s father received a messenger from Brandt at the villa. The messenger announced that he was from the temple in Fingerdale and that Brandt was sure Ischarus would have mastered his new techniques by sundown of the following day. Of course, Ischarus was not the only one to have put this break between adventures to good use. 

Over the course of the past few days, Rhema had learned that her new scarlet colored crystal companion was going to be a tremendous advantage in bolstering her will power and ability to make favorable decisions. The crystalline presence seemed quite confident in its own abilities and seldom forgot to extend the compliments and confidence to include Rhema as well. Before she had met the crystalline presence she had been working on stretching her powers in a few new directions. The crystal helped her focus her efforts until she had mastered a few new techniques of her own.

Semeion had taken a bit of time to continue to travel into Fingerdale and seek out a few simple magic shops. He had hoped to find a link between the shop keeping merchants who were in charge of the shops and the mages that kept them supplied with goods to sell. Unfortunately, Semeion was unable to convince any of the merchants to reveal their suppliers or to even attempt to arrange a meeting. The best that Semeion could do was to find a few simple scrolls upon which unfamiliar arcane writing had been scrawled. He spent many hours deciphering the magical inscriptions and as he did so he realized that he had unlocked a few magical secrets that he had not previously been taught. He quickly added the magical notations to his own reference sources so that their power would not be lost from his ability to keep them.

During this time, however, Charis was likely the busiest of all of the party. She was not only learning social etiquette, but she was also given plenty of opportunities around the villa to demonstrate her valuable skills. As the land drew closer and closer to the time for the harvest, the activity cycle of the villa increased significantly. As the life cycle of the villa increased, it meant more and more injuries to the servants who worked hard to prepare the land for its harvest. Charis found herself quickly developing a significant loyal following among the people who worked the villa’s land. She found that both her skill in treating minor injuries as well as her ability to magically treat the more serious wounds drew great appreciation from those that she healed. However, perhaps the most important thing that Charis found helpful in living among the people of the villa was the fact that like the majority of them she was also a refugee from Quehalost. As Charis would heal, those refugees who had been around the villa for more time than Charis were able to explain their own period of transition. This allowed the servants of the villa to feel as though they were invested in Charis’ own development and transition from slavery to freedom. Before too long, only Rhema and her father were more popular across the face of the villa than Charis.

The time for the foursome to be reunited came after only a few days, and it wasn’t long at all before Rhema, Ischarus, Charis, and Semeion all found themselves nestled back into the seating area within Brandt’s office. The sun was just about to set as the day wound down. All day long Ischarus had thought that Brandt was not acting in his usual manner. As the day drew on, Brandt seemed to grow more and more excited. Each time Ischarus would hint as to whether or not Brandt was hiding anything, Brandt would merely allude to being excited about Ischarus’ graduation day from his training. Yet now that they were all present, Brandt was acting all the more excited.

“I am glad that you have all been gathered here once more in my office,” Brandt began with a broad smile. Rhema, Charis, and Semeion were equally surprised by this unusual enthusiasm shown by Brandt. Although they were not as well acquainted with Brandt as Ischarus, they could still tell that he was excited about something. “I can assure you greatly that your comrade is ready to go forth and adventure with a much renewed and invigorated spirit.”

Everyone smiled at Ischarus, who proudly returned their expressions with a stoic look of accomplishment. The work had not been easy, and there were a few new bruises that Rhema had noticed upon Ischarus when she arrived. However, this was neither the time nor the place to question them. She and the rest of the party were merely glad to have Ischarus back among them.

Brandt continued speaking as he questioned them with an unapologetic spirit. He quickly transitioned from Ischarus to the party’s future. “I assume that you will be heading back to Quehalost?” 

Ischarus flashed a quick glance to his friends, but Rhema smiled confidently. This topic had only begun to appear among the friends before Ischarus had been separated from them. Yet during Ischarus’ absence this particular topic had come upon quite often. Each time it was discussed, the return to Quehalost was a simple conclusion to reach.

Ischarus sat while Rhema offered up the answer. “I believe you can count with an assured spirit that it will not be long before we return to Quehalost. After all, we have made several trips to Quehalost already. We are only now getting to the point of making journeys of more than an hour beyond the mountainous passages. Surely there is a considerable amount of work yet to be accomplished within the land contained by mountains.”

Brandt nodded. “Indeed there is. And while you have shown great courage in challenging the authority of a red wyrm and surviving thus far, there are challenges within the land with which you would simply not be prepared for. To be honest, I am rather confident that there are challenges within the land of Quehalost that I am not prepared for no matter how much I acknowledge that they exist.”

Semeion nodded, understanding that even the magical power of Brandt had its limitations. Rhema continued, “I believe that we have enough challenge waiting there for us for the time being, sir.”

Brandt smiled slightly, although he didn’t speak quite yet. He patiently waited for the party to volunteer any information rather than having to probe it out of them.

Charis picked up where Rhema had left off. “I would like to know the fate of my village, personally. There is much that I left behind in the manner in which I was taken from Quehalost. Mind you, I am not angry with how I was taken and there was a reason that I had to be disconnected in the fashion that I was taken. Yet I know that the presence of Grick means that the village continues on in some form or another. The power of my dragon father has not been broken. In fact, it is likely that he has already chosen another Provenience if any women of my tribe survived his rage. If none survived, then it is likely that my dragon father went out to capture and enslave other women to start fresh.”

Brandt nodded completely in agreement. He had heard the direction in which the party was leaning. “I understand your sentiment, Charis. I cannot know your situation, because like Ischarus my dragon father was a loving and supporting of my development. My dragon father did not use his obvious power over us as a utensil of fear. But I do feel the need to remind you that returning home will not be easy. While you still have great compassion for your people, those who remain will likely see you as a traitor and the reason for their most recent round of great suffering. If you return to your home village, I must caution you in this.”

Charis nodded, although to a great extent she was blind to the emotional river that would likely burst forth should they return as planned. Either way, she was confident in her ability to handle it.

Brandt leaned back in his chair and smiled broadly once more. “And what of you, Semeion? Do you desire to return back to Quehalost and match wits with the dragon that almost roasted you and your friends?”

Semeion nodded in the affirmative and rested a hand upon Charis’ shoulder. “I wish to quest for some purpose. There is no reason to simply study the arcane arts without using it to help people in one form of another. I can think of no greater need than Quehalost. Besides, I will support Charis in her desire to return.”

Brandt smiled as he heard the telltale sign of emotion infused into logic. “Be careful that you do not find yourself standing between love and a fire, then. For while Quehalost is indeed a place of great need, there is no greater place in which you can be killed where nobody will think anything of it. Quehalost is a place where heroes can be made, but fools can be lost to the world.”

Semeion’s eyebrows furrowed a bit as he thought deeply about Brandt’s cautionary speech. He wasn’t quite sure as to whether Brandt was trying to cautiously encourage him or lay a slight insult upon his feet. Semeion concluded that the answer probably lay in whether he lives through their next mission or dies in the midst of it.

Brandt continued the questioning of the party. “And of you, Rhema? Did you have enough time to put words to your thoughts as Charis and Semeion spoke? Why would you return to Quehalost?”

Rhema’s face grew stern as she thought of her last adventure. Her thoughts revolved around Druff and if he were even still alive. It was Druff that had informed them that the trip would have to be related to the previous one. Now it seemed as though their next journey under the mountains would lead them to the same place for a third time in a row. “I have a bit of unfinished business left in Quehalost. I’d like to see it settled one way or another.”

Brandt smiled a crooked smile, almost as if he could read her mind. “I hope that you finish them satisfactorily before they finish you, Rhema.” Turning to Ischarus, Brandt asked his final question. “And what of you? Why will you step foot into Quehalost once more, Ischarus?”

Ischarus breathed deeply and smiled. “I agree with my friend Semeion. There are people in that land who simply are not free. They are oppressed. Many are enslaved. Those who have some freedom live in fear most of their lives. That life is not any life that I should want myself. How can I honorably live here in our relative freedom and peace when they do not even have that choice? Of course, I desire to see my kin again even if they are from a different dragon father. As Charis spoke of earlier and Rhema also implied, there is work that we left unfinished in the land. Three months have passed. It is time to go once more.”

Brandt nodded along with Ischarus, but offered no concluding advice for him as he had done with the others. Ischarus had been listening to advice from Brandt for five days now. If that advice hadn’t stuck by now there would be no parting words that would stick! As Ischarus finished speaking, Brandt leaned back and looked as though he had something to say. The party sat in silence, waiting for Brandt to speak.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 22, 2006)

Brandt leaned forward in his chair and lowered his volume.  Everyone in the room had to strain just to hear what had been said.  “I have a favor to ask of you, and this is a favor that will come at quite a difficult level for you.  I had the chance to speak to my dragon father about Ischarus over the course of this past week.  In so doing, my dragon father has been impressed not only by your progress in each of your talents, but more in the values that you exude.  Ischarus has told me of your moral choice to kill no foe.  My father dragon found that particularly noteworthy.  He was also impressed by the fact that you frequently risk your lives for the freedom of others.  He has asked a simple favor, but I will not lie.  The favor carries a tremendous amount of danger within it.”

He paused and leaned back in his chair as if to think about what to say.  Ischarus began to speak, but Brandt silenced him with a simple look.  Nobody else desired to challenge Brandt for the floor and the ability to speak once Ischarus had been refused.  “My dragon father wishes to have a red dragon egg if there is one available.”

Ischarus and Charis immediately knew the imminent danger of such a task and they gasped as the favor was asked.  Semeion understood dragon pride enough from his studies to also understand the weight that such a task would carry.  Rhema knew little about dragons and their clutches, but she knew enough from the last time a red dragon was breathing down their necks to know she didn’t want a repeat of that event.

Ischarus spoke first.  “Your dragon father asks too much!  It is impossible!”

Brandt smiled and shook his head.  “It is not impossible.  And it is not an order or a command.  It is merely an offer should you find yourself in a given opportunity.”

Semeion spoke up the next objection.  “Surely you know how greedy red dragons are!  They often know the value of their hordes down to the smallest fleck of gold.  Do you expect us to be able to steal an egg easier than a gold piece?”

Brandt was prepared for this objection.  “Yes.  As to the well known fact of dragon greed, the funny thing about red wyrms is that there are some things that you can in fact steal and others that if you steal them they will hunt you down across the mountains.  Their treasure is completely off limits, and it matters not if you are talking about monetary treasure or gemstones.  They love their hordes more than anything else in the whole world.  A red wyrm’s honor and reputation is wrapped up both psychologically and emotionally in the size of the horde to which they return.  In fact, the only way to ever be free in stealing even the minutest portion of a red dragon’s horde is to slay the dragon itself.”

Brandt paused and the look of a mischievous eight year old boy who just sent his younger brother out of the room to distract his mother while he dips into the cookie jar passed over Brandt’s face.  “That being said about the greed of the red wyrm especially, remember that you managed to take Charis without her dragon father tracking you down personally.  He came after you in anger, but only sent minions to reclaim Charis.  The red wyrm is indeed greedy and possessive about treasure; but it is much less possessive of family.  Human made Drakontai can always be replaced by mating with another human.  A dragon cannot produce treasure through mating.  A clutch of eggs can even be replaced almost as easily as a Drakontos.  Living family is perishable in the eyes of a red wyrm.  But the gold that lay on the bottom of a horde floor cannot be replaced.”

Charis’ mouth opened slightly as she heard Brandt’s explanation.  She thought about all that she had learned in the past three months as well as how much her kin still living in Quehalost meant to her.  She pondered for a second about how many had perished when they fled.  “That’s just wrong.”  It was a simple complaint, but it was all her mind could wrap around regarding the priorities of her dragon father.  She had never thought about how little her father dragon had done to get her back in those terms.  Yet Charis knew that Brandt’s logic was absolutely correct.

Brandt nodded in agreement.  “You’ll not find the same values in all dragon kind, Charis.  In fact you’ll not even find those values in all evil dragon kind.  In truth most dragons care about their immediate family.  But you will find it true in reds.  Furthermore, a red dragon will care less about the eggs within its clutch that are of the same gender as the parent than the eggs of the opposite gender.  Red wyrms are very territorial, remember?  Dragons of the same gender compete for mating rites, land usage, and even control over Drakontai.  From the perspective of a red dragon, the fewer red wyrms around of the same gender the easier and more productive their life will be.  Thus, if you can find his stash of male eggs, he might not even notice one was gone for a few days.  And even if one turns up missing, I guarantee that the red wyrm will pursue you for the sake of his reputation being tarnished and not because he actually cares for the egg.  If you can survive long enough for his immediate anger to burn itself out, your task will be all but accomplished.”

Charis still couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  Ischarus was struggling to understand the red wyrm approach to kin as well.  He had known the love that his own silver dragon father gave to all his children.  Semeion was absolutely amazed at Brandt’s wealth of knowledge regarding the red dragon that he didn’t have time to be appalled.  In a very neutral and academic sort of way Semeion even found it intriguing.  Rhema, on the other hand, was already scheming.  A slight and dark smile crept across her face.  “We might be able to do it, Brandt.  If we cannot do it on this journey perhaps we can accomplish this task on the next.”

Rhema’s voice trailed off into her own thoughts.  Brandt replied simply, “My father dragon is not particular.  Of course sooner is better, but this is not a simple one time offer.  We do not desire you to make this the goal of your mission.  Obviously, saving lives is the goal.  Working toward justice in Quehalost is far superior to this quest for my father dragon.  However, should you find that the red wyrm has protection of a clutch and you are in a position…”

Rhema smiled broadly.  “We just might find ourselves there.”

The rest of the party was now curious, but that was all Rhema was going to offer up in explanation in front of Brandt.  Brandt mentioned a healthy reward from such a dragon egg.  They chatted about their training for a little while longer and Charis reminded them that if they were going to leave the city before the gates were closed for the night they should probably hurry.  Before too long they were all on the way home to Huetown.  

The next day was spent in preparation for the expedition.  Salted food, water skins, arrows, and flint were all packed into the saddlebags.  Once the preparations were made, they each lay down to sleep.  Tomorrow marked the most difficult trip into the evil land yet.  Not only were they intentionally headed into an area in which they were already marked individuals, they were doing it with Rhema convinced that the retrieval of an egg of a red wyrm might just be possible.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Brandt leaned forward in his chair and lowered his volume. Everyone in the room had to strain just to hear what had been said. “I have a favor to ask of you, and this is a favor that will come at quite a difficult level for you. I had the chance to speak to my dragon father about Ischarus over the course of this past week. In so doing, my dragon father has been impressed not only by your progress in each of your talents, but more in the values that you exude. Ischarus has told me of your moral choice to kill no foe. My father dragon found that particularly noteworthy. He was also impressed by the fact that you frequently risk your lives for the freedom of others. He has asked a simple favor, but I will not lie. The favor carries a tremendous amount of danger within it.”

He paused and leaned back in his chair as if to think about what to say. Ischarus began to speak, but Brandt silenced him with a simple look. Nobody else desired to challenge Brandt for the floor and the ability to speak once Ischarus had been refused. “My dragon father wishes to have a red dragon egg if there is one available.”

Ischarus and Charis immediately knew the imminent danger of such a task and they gasped as the favor was asked. Semeion understood dragon pride enough from his studies to also understand the weight that such a task would carry. Rhema knew little about dragons and their clutches, but she knew enough from the last time a red dragon was breathing down their necks to know she didn’t want a repeat of that event.

Ischarus spoke first. “Your dragon father asks too much! It is impossible!”

Brandt smiled and shook his head. “It is not impossible. And it is not an order or a command. It is merely an offer should you find yourself in a given opportunity.”

Semeion spoke up the next objection. “Surely you know how greedy red dragons are! They often know the value of their hordes down to the smallest fleck of gold. Do you expect us to be able to steal an egg easier than a gold piece?”

Brandt was prepared for this objection. “Yes. As to the well known fact of dragon greed, the funny thing about red wyrms is that there are some things that you can in fact steal and others that if you steal them they will hunt you down across the mountains. Their treasure is completely off limits, and it matters not if you are talking about monetary treasure or gemstones. They love their hordes more than anything else in the whole world. A red wyrm’s honor and reputation is wrapped up both psychologically and emotionally in the size of the horde to which they return. In fact, the only way to ever be free in stealing even the minutest portion of a red dragon’s horde is to slay the dragon itself.”

Brandt paused and the look of a mischievous eight year old boy who just sent his younger brother out of the room to distract his mother while he dips into the cookie jar passed over Brandt’s face. “That being said about the greed of the red wyrm especially, remember that you managed to take Charis without her dragon father tracking you down personally. He came after you in anger, but only sent minions to reclaim Charis. The red wyrm is indeed greedy and possessive about treasure; but it is much less possessive of family. Human made Drakontai can always be replaced by mating with another human. A dragon cannot produce treasure through mating. A clutch of eggs can even be replaced almost as easily as a Drakontos. Living family is perishable in the eyes of a red wyrm. But the gold that lay on the bottom of a horde floor cannot be replaced.”

Charis’ mouth opened slightly as she heard Brandt’s explanation. She thought about all that she had learned in the past three months as well as how much her kin still living in Quehalost meant to her. She pondered for a second about how many had perished when they fled. “That’s just wrong.” It was a simple complaint, but it was all her mind could wrap around regarding the priorities of her dragon father. She had never thought about how little her father dragon had done to get her back in those terms. Yet Charis knew that Brandt’s logic was absolutely correct.

Brandt nodded in agreement. “You’ll not find the same values in all dragon kind, Charis. In fact you’ll not even find those values in all evil dragon kind. In truth most dragons care about their immediate family. But you will find it true in reds. Furthermore, a red dragon will care less about the eggs within its clutch that are of the same gender as the parent than the eggs of the opposite gender. Red wyrms are very territorial, remember? Dragons of the same gender compete for mating rites, land usage, and even control over Drakontai. From the perspective of a red dragon, the fewer red wyrms around of the same gender the easier and more productive their life will be. Thus, if you can find his stash of male eggs, he might not even notice one was gone for a few days. And even if one turns up missing, I guarantee that the red wyrm will pursue you for the sake of his reputation being tarnished and not because he actually cares for the egg. If you can survive long enough for his immediate anger to burn itself out, your task will be all but accomplished.”

Charis still couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Ischarus was struggling to understand the red wyrm approach to kin as well. He had known the love that his own silver dragon father gave to all his children. Semeion was absolutely amazed at Brandt’s wealth of knowledge regarding the red dragon that he didn’t have time to be appalled. In a very neutral and academic sort of way Semeion even found it intriguing. Rhema, on the other hand, was already scheming. A slight and dark smile crept across her face. “We might be able to do it, Brandt. If we cannot do it on this journey perhaps we can accomplish this task on the next.”

Rhema’s voice trailed off into her own thoughts. Brandt replied simply, “My father dragon is not particular. Of course sooner is better, but this is not a simple one time offer. We do not desire you to make this the goal of your mission. Obviously, saving lives is the goal. Working toward justice in Quehalost is far superior to this quest for my father dragon. However, should you find that the red wyrm has protection of a clutch and you are in a position…”

Rhema smiled broadly. “We just might find ourselves there.”

The rest of the party was now curious, but that was all Rhema was going to offer up in explanation in front of Brandt. Brandt mentioned a healthy reward from such a dragon egg. They chatted about their training for a little while longer and Charis reminded them that if they were going to leave the city before the gates were closed for the night they should probably hurry. Before too long they were all on the way home to Huetown. 

The next day was spent in preparation for the expedition. Salted food, water skins, arrows, and flint were all packed into the saddlebags. Once the preparations were made, they each lay down to sleep. Tomorrow marked the most difficult trip into the evil land yet. Not only were they intentionally headed into an area in which they were already marked individuals, they were doing it with Rhema convinced that the retrieval of an egg of a red wyrm might just be possible.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 24, 2006)

*Chapter Eight: THE PATH OF THE UNSEEING*

On account of their anxiousness, the next morning came upon the resting party very quickly.  Quests were always fun and exciting; but the element of danger could not be overlooked even from the greatest perspective of excitement.  The horses were brought out by the stable master at sunrise and several stable hands began to brush them down, blanket and saddle the horses, and prepare the saddlebags with a week’s worth of supplies.  Each of the saddlebags would contain two days rations for the horses since it would be assumed that the horses would be tended at the night and allowed to graze on the land during rests.  Unless the party wanted to survive upon berries, no such assumption could be made for their sake.

Inside the villa’s main housing structure Semeion woke with a start.  His subconscious had kept him jumpy all night.  His dreams were erratic and as he woke his sheets had the slightly damp feeling of being sweated upon throughout the night.  Yet, it was not the dampness of the sheets that had startled him.  As he slept he had felt a presence come near him.  As it drew close enough to alarm his subconscious Semeion woke quickly and sat up.  He looked up as he sucked in a deep breath and saw that it was Charis who was standing over him.

Charis spoke as she sat down beside him.  “I’m a bit worried, Semeion.”  She ignored the fact that she had startled him out of his sleep.  “We’re heading back into my homeland and I’m not entirely sure this is a good idea.”

Semeion calmed himself as soon as he realized he was safe and Charis was in need of his support.  It seemed so long ago since they had met even though it had been a simple three months.  He reached up to stroke Charis’ face with the back of his hand before sitting up in bed.  “You’ve no more reason to worry than the rest of us, Charis.  We’re in this together and by this point I’m sure anyone working for your dragon father would just as soon kill any one of us without preference.”

Charis smiled.  She could tell by Semeion’s comment that he wasn’t quite awake.  He meant well, at least.  “I just have a feeling that so much of this is riding upon my shoulders.  So much of this quest depends upon me.  I am the old Provenience.  Druff used to respect my opinion and now who knows what will happen?  And that assumes that he is alive!  Rhema has so many expectations in regard to the freedom for all these people, as well as for that egg!  I wish Brandt had never spoken of it.  To attempt to bring back such a prize is mere foolishness!”

Semeion blinked a few times, trying to calm himself further and bring his mind into being fully awake.  “It’s alright, Charis.  Nobody is expecting anything special from you in regard to your people.  And we’ll cross the bridge of what to do about the egg when we get there.  You, Ischarus, and I all know the dangers.  If it cannot be done, then we’ll outnumber Rhema.  But from this side of the mountains all she can see is the opportunity.  She can’t see any of the danger because she doesn’t know what the real danger is from either life or study.  You and Ischarus know what dragons are capable of on account of your life experience.  I know their dangers from my life and from studying them.  She doesn’t have any of that.  She only has the realization of how much a dragon egg would bring in profit.”

Charis sighed softly, having heard these words from Semeion several times before.  Semeion could tell from her sigh that she knew his counsel was good, but she also wished there was something more concrete that she could do about it.

Semeion began to speak before Charis could dwell too much on her feelings again.  “Listen, Charis.  You’ll feel better once we are actually on our way to Quehalost.  I felt the same things my first trip.  The morning before we actually left I wondered what I was getting myself into and whether or not I’d even come back.  If I had listened to those feelings I would have never met you.”

Semeion tossed back the sheets, exposing nearly all of his pale white skin.  His shorts covered a small percentage of the pasty white skin, but Charis smirked as his skin so obviously clashed with her own lightly tanned skin.  Semeion spent so much of his time inside studying that the sun often went days without directly falling upon his skin.  Once Semeion indicated that he was ready to get out of bed, Charis rose and walked to the door to allow him to change in peace.  When she reached the door she turned around and spoke before closing it.  “I’ll be out with the horses.  They stable master has been prepping them for almost an hour now.”

Semeion smiled once he was alone.  He knew that meant Ischarus had been up for at least that long and ready to go.  There was little doubt that Charis had awoken about the same time.  Only time would tell if Rhema or Semeion would be the last out to the horses.  He quickly changed into his traveling cloak and tucked his traveling book of arcane writings into a pocket on the inside of the same cloak.  He grabbed his new rapier and fastened it to his waist.  He looked around the room to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind before he picked up his shoulder pack and headed outside.

As Semeion arrived near where the horses were being tended he saw that he was indeed the last one to be ready.  Ischarus had mounted Elistra the moment he saw Semeion coming out of the villa’s front door.  A smile of anticipation had crossed his face.  Semeion returned the smile.  He knew that Ischarus loved the journey from Huetown into Quehalost.  “I suppose that since I am the last I am holding you all up, then?”

Rhema shook her head slightly.  “Don’t worry about it.  We only need to get Reignsburg in a few days and then get to Scarhaus the next.  It’ll take us a while to make that journey anyway.  We might as well go by way of a leisurely pace rather than hustle in the beginning while we’re safe.  Once we get to the Tongra-Quehalost mountain range we’ll be moving with enough haste as it is.  There is no need to wear ourselves out before then.”

As Rhema spoke, she mounted Shauvry.  Charis followed suit and with a significant amount of grace mounted Abijou.  Semeion likewise took Thana from the stable hand and rose to a sitting position atop her back.  Rhema pulled Shauvry into the lead and the foursome began to head down the path leading away from the villa.  As was her custom upon reaching the end of the path, Rhema turned and looked back upon the happy dwelling place of her family.  Each time that she left here headed for Quehalost she wondered if it would be her last or if she would once again return with new refugees.

The trip to Reignsburg passed by rather uneventfully, although there were a few instances where Charis swore that she felt as though they were being trailed.  However, each time she had the feeling there was no means of proving that her intuition was right.  Eventually Charis simply decided that her nerves were getting the better of her and she ignored the suspicion.  She would depend upon the strengths of the others rather than succumbing to her own paranoia.  Perhaps what bothered her more than anything else was that she was already experiencing paranoia and they were not even in Quehalost yet.

When they were in Reignsburg the foursome easily found the _Cachinnating Roadhouse._  They bought a stay for the night for both themselves and their horses from Archis.  Once they were inside the inn and their evening arrangements settled, Ischarus treated the foursome to a large helping of Archis’ famous potatoes.  As usual, Rhema enjoyed herself thoroughly on the feast of her favorite food along the route.  Charis didn’t seem to enjoy the food as much as her companions.  She slowly picked at her food while Ischarus and Semeion found themselves reminiscing about the last time they were in town headed to Quehalost.

The next day the party woke to find that the skies had opened up and produced a steady stream of rain.  Visibility was poor and the rain showed no signs of letting up for the entire day.  Since they did not want to pay for another day in the inn and lose a day of travel, the foursome decided to head out into the rain anyway.  At least they could be comforted at the fact that they were headed perpendicular to the storm.  The storm was coming out of the west and there could be little doubt in the fact that the storm clouds were riding the mountains on its southern edge.  

They were headed due south to Scarhaus and the rain passed over them without forcing the party to head into the wind too much.  The worst part of the trip besides getting wet was the realization that the reduced visibility made them much more susceptible to highwaymen.  Fortunately the day trip from Reignsburg to Scarhaus passed by uneventfully.  Well after they were soaked to the skin they arrived in Scarhaus and rested comfortably in Rapheus’ inn.  They had arrived too late in the day for Rhema to see young Mardak, however.  The rain had slowed them enough that their arrival was later than normal.  Hopefully there would be time on the return trip to stop and visit with Mardak.

The following morning brought little sunshine into the land.  The rain had stopped, but the long rain from the night before meant that a thick fog had risen from the woods and across the road.  The sky was deep with clouds and the likelihood of the sun burning the fog off before noon was minimal.  In spite of the fog, the party saddled up and headed into Quehalost.  They left their last friendly port behind them and turned to where they knew the mountains lay beyond the thick fog.  The fog was so thick that even this close to the looming mountains they could not be seen.

Charis felt better about life with the fog, however.  With the presence of the fog she was able to quite distinctly know that they were indeed being followed.  The inability of their tail to use visual cues meant that whoever was following them had to stay within earshot in order to make sure that they did not lose the party.  Once the tail remained in earshot for long enough to give his presence away on several occasions Charis was able to determine for certain that they were not alone.

Charis spoke softly once she brought Abijou to a trot to catch up to Ischarus in the second position.  “I’ve heard twigs snapping behind us, Ischarus.” 

Semeion spurred Thana into a trot in order to maintain the small distance between himself and Charis as she moved forward.  Once he had made up the distance he could see Ischarus raise two of his left fingers to his mouth and let out a quick shrill whistle.  Up ahead, he could tell that Rhema had slowed her pace in response to the whistle.  Rhema still continued forward after hearing the call from Ischarus, but she now did so at a more conservative pace.  With the reduced speed the horses instinctively closed ranks into a much tighter formation.  It was not long before Ischarus and Charis realized that they would not be disappointed this morning.

Three figures emerged out of the fog and threatened the foursome once their horses had slowed down to a walk.  Two of the figures came towards them from the front while a third figure slinked out of the woods behind the party.  The foursome knew that their horses were not necessarily trained for combat so in a flash they voluntarily gave up their advantage on horseback and slipped out of the saddle.  They drew their weapons and waited for the highwaymen to make the first move.  The three highwaymen spread out to form a rough triangle around the party and it became clear that there would be no retreat or diplomacy as an attempt to get out of this situation.  As the highwaymen formed their triangle around the party, the foursome formed a circled around their horses.  Semeion and Rhema took positions opposite each other leaving Charis and Ischarus to be opposite as well.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Chapter Eight: THE PATH OF THE UNSEEING

On account of their anxiousness, the next morning came upon the resting party very quickly. Quests were always fun and exciting; but the element of danger could not be overlooked even from the greatest perspective of excitement. The horses were brought out by the stable master at sunrise and several stable hands began to brush them down, blanket and saddle the horses, and prepare the saddlebags with a week’s worth of supplies. Each of the saddlebags would contain two days rations for the horses since it would be assumed that the horses would be tended at the night and allowed to graze on the land during rests. Unless the party wanted to survive upon berries, no such assumption could be made for their sake.

Inside the villa’s main housing structure Semeion woke with a start. His subconscious had kept him jumpy all night. His dreams were erratic and as he woke his sheets had the slightly damp feeling of being sweated upon throughout the night. Yet, it was not the dampness of the sheets that had startled him. As he slept he had felt a presence come near him. As it drew close enough to alarm his subconscious Semeion woke quickly and sat up. He looked up as he sucked in a deep breath and saw that it was Charis who was standing over him.

Charis spoke as she sat down beside him. “I’m a bit worried, Semeion.” She ignored the fact that she had startled him out of his sleep. “We’re heading back into my homeland and I’m not entirely sure this is a good idea.”

Semeion calmed himself as soon as he realized he was safe and Charis was in need of his support. It seemed so long ago since they had met even though it had been a simple three months. He reached up to stroke Charis’ face with the back of his hand before sitting up in bed. “You’ve no more reason to worry than the rest of us, Charis. We’re in this together and by this point I’m sure anyone working for your dragon father would just as soon kill any one of us without preference.”

Charis smiled. She could tell by Semeion’s comment that he wasn’t quite awake. He meant well, at least. “I just have a feeling that so much of this is riding upon my shoulders. So much of this quest depends upon me. I am the old Provenience. Druff used to respect my opinion and now who knows what will happen? And that assumes that he is alive! Rhema has so many expectations in regard to the freedom for all these people, as well as for that egg! I wish Brandt had never spoken of it. To attempt to bring back such a prize is mere foolishness!”

Semeion blinked a few times, trying to calm himself further and bring his mind into being fully awake. “It’s alright, Charis. Nobody is expecting anything special from you in regard to your people. And we’ll cross the bridge of what to do about the egg when we get there. You, Ischarus, and I all know the dangers. If it cannot be done, then we’ll outnumber Rhema. But from this side of the mountains all she can see is the opportunity. She can’t see any of the danger because she doesn’t know what the real danger is from either life or study. You and Ischarus know what dragons are capable of on account of your life experience. I know their dangers from my life and from studying them. She doesn’t have any of that. She only has the realization of how much a dragon egg would bring in profit.”

Charis sighed softly, having heard these words from Semeion several times before. Semeion could tell from her sigh that she knew his counsel was good, but she also wished there was something more concrete that she could do about it.

Semeion began to speak before Charis could dwell too much on her feelings again. “Listen, Charis. You’ll feel better once we are actually on our way to Quehalost. I felt the same things my first trip. The morning before we actually left I wondered what I was getting myself into and whether or not I’d even come back. If I had listened to those feelings I would have never met you.”

Semeion tossed back the sheets, exposing nearly all of his pale white skin. His shorts covered a small percentage of the pasty white skin, but Charis smirked as his skin so obviously clashed with her own lightly tanned skin. Semeion spent so much of his time inside studying that the sun often went days without directly falling upon his skin. Once Semeion indicated that he was ready to get out of bed, Charis rose and walked to the door to allow him to change in peace. When she reached the door she turned around and spoke before closing it. “I’ll be out with the horses. They stable master has been prepping them for almost an hour now.”

Semeion smiled once he was alone. He knew that meant Ischarus had been up for at least that long and ready to go. There was little doubt that Charis had awoken about the same time. Only time would tell if Rhema or Semeion would be the last out to the horses. He quickly changed into his traveling cloak and tucked his traveling book of arcane writings into a pocket on the inside of the same cloak. He grabbed his new rapier and fastened it to his waist. He looked around the room to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind before he picked up his shoulder pack and headed outside.

As Semeion arrived near where the horses were being tended he saw that he was indeed the last one to be ready. Ischarus had mounted Elistra the moment he saw Semeion coming out of the villa’s front door. A smile of anticipation had crossed his face. Semeion returned the smile. He knew that Ischarus loved the journey from Huetown into Quehalost. “I suppose that since I am the last I am holding you all up, then?”

Rhema shook her head slightly. “Don’t worry about it. We only need to get Reignsburg in a few days and then get to Scarhaus the next. It’ll take us a while to make that journey anyway. We might as well go by way of a leisurely pace rather than hustle in the beginning while we’re safe. Once we get to the Tongra-Quehalost mountain range we’ll be moving with enough haste as it is. There is no need to wear ourselves out before then.”

As Rhema spoke, she mounted Shauvry. Charis followed suit and with a significant amount of grace mounted Abijou. Semeion likewise took Thana from the stable hand and rose to a sitting position atop her back. Rhema pulled Shauvry into the lead and the foursome began to head down the path leading away from the villa. As was her custom upon reaching the end of the path, Rhema turned and looked back upon the happy dwelling place of her family. Each time that she left here headed for Quehalost she wondered if it would be her last or if she would once again return with new refugees.

The trip to Reignsburg passed by rather uneventfully, although there were a few instances where Charis swore that she felt as though they were being trailed. However, each time she had the feeling there was no means of proving that her intuition was right. Eventually Charis simply decided that her nerves were getting the better of her and she ignored the suspicion. She would depend upon the strengths of the others rather than succumbing to her own paranoia. Perhaps what bothered her more than anything else was that she was already experiencing paranoia and they were not even in Quehalost yet.

When they were in Reignsburg the foursome easily found the Cachinnating Roadhouse. They bought a stay for the night for both themselves and their horses from Archis. Once they were inside the inn and their evening arrangements settled, Ischarus treated the foursome to a large helping of Archis’ famous potatoes. As usual, Rhema enjoyed herself thoroughly on the feast of her favorite food along the route. Charis didn’t seem to enjoy the food as much as her companions. She slowly picked at her food while Ischarus and Semeion found themselves reminiscing about the last time they were in town headed to Quehalost.

The next day the party woke to find that the skies had opened up and produced a steady stream of rain. Visibility was poor and the rain showed no signs of letting up for the entire day. Since they did not want to pay for another day in the inn and lose a day of travel, the foursome decided to head out into the rain anyway. At least they could be comforted at the fact that they were headed perpendicular to the storm. The storm was coming out of the west and there could be little doubt in the fact that the storm clouds were riding the mountains on its southern edge. 

They were headed due south to Scarhaus and the rain passed over them without forcing the party to head into the wind too much. The worst part of the trip besides getting wet was the realization that the reduced visibility made them much more susceptible to highwaymen. Fortunately the day trip from Reignsburg to Scarhaus passed by uneventfully. Well after they were soaked to the skin they arrived in Scarhaus and rested comfortably in Rapheus’ inn. They had arrived too late in the day for Rhema to see young Mardak, however. The rain had slowed them enough that their arrival was later than normal. Hopefully there would be time on the return trip to stop and visit with Mardak.

The following morning brought little sunshine into the land. The rain had stopped, but the long rain from the night before meant that a thick fog had risen from the woods and across the road. The sky was deep with clouds and the likelihood of the sun burning the fog off before noon was minimal. In spite of the fog, the party saddled up and headed into Quehalost. They left their last friendly port behind them and turned to where they knew the mountains lay beyond the thick fog. The fog was so thick that even this close to the looming mountains they could not be seen.

Charis felt better about life with the fog, however. With the presence of the fog she was able to quite distinctly know that they were indeed being followed. The inability of their tail to use visual cues meant that whoever was following them had to stay within earshot in order to make sure that they did not lose the party. Once the tail remained in earshot for long enough to give his presence away on several occasions Charis was able to determine for certain that they were not alone.

Charis spoke softly once she brought Abijou to a trot to catch up to Ischarus in the second position. “I’ve heard twigs snapping behind us, Ischarus.” 

Semeion spurred Thana into a trot in order to maintain the small distance between himself and Charis as she moved forward. Once he had made up the distance he could see Ischarus raise two of his left fingers to his mouth and let out a quick shrill whistle. Up ahead, he could tell that Rhema had slowed her pace in response to the whistle. Rhema still continued forward after hearing the call from Ischarus, but she now did so at a more conservative pace. With the reduced speed the horses instinctively closed ranks into a much tighter formation. It was not long before Ischarus and Charis realized that they would not be disappointed this morning.

Three figures emerged out of the fog and threatened the foursome once their horses had slowed down to a walk. Two of the figures came towards them from the front while a third figure slinked out of the woods behind the party. The foursome knew that their horses were not necessarily trained for combat so in a flash they voluntarily gave up their advantage on horseback and slipped out of the saddle. They drew their weapons and waited for the highwaymen to make the first move. The three highwaymen spread out to form a rough triangle around the party and it became clear that there would be no retreat or diplomacy as an attempt to get out of this situation. As the highwaymen formed their triangle around the party, the foursome formed a circled around their horses. Semeion and Rhema took positions opposite each other leaving Charis and Ischarus to be opposite as well.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 24, 2006)

Rhema smiled as she realized that the highwayman who was facing her was a female and brandishing a sword as though she knew how to use it.  She knew that she had backup with the knowledge that Ischarus was to her right and Charis was to her left.  She had been given a moment to strike if she chose to use it before the woman could come against her.  Rhema gripped the handle of her sword tightly as her mind focused on her approaching enemy.  In spite of her moment of tactical advantage she also knew that her victory would be through her words and not through the skill of her blade.  “Do not oppose us.”  Rhema spoke softly and calmly.  “You will not suffer any loss if you do not oppose us.  Our fight is not with you.  It never has been.”

The highwayman who had come up from behind the party yelled to the woman that Rhema had spoken.  “Do not listen to that witch’s words!  She’ll only try and lead you astray!”

The one to whom Rhema had spoken made no motion with her blade, although she griped the handle of her sword tightly in the midst of the confusion in her mind.  Rhema had given her a decision to make.  She knew the words of her associate were true enough, but even armed with the verbal support of the other highwaymen Rhema’s words had a powerful force all of their own.  As the fighter stood there hesitating in her mind she heard Rhema’s words repeated over and over.

While the female highwayman stood debating her actions, the battle took a much more fierce tone on the opposite side of the horses.  Semeion lined up a strike against the one who had challenged them from behind and who had yelled encouragement against Rhema’s compulsion.  The familiar words came to his mind as he once again extended his fingers.  “Thin-tok.”  His fingers glowed with a pale blue hue for a second before the color leapt off of his hands and merged into a single energy ball.  The ball sprang into action and found the target that Semeion desired.  The energy ball erupted upon the fighter’s chest.

The fighter already had his weapon in hand as he stepped forward, received the blow from Semeion’s spell, and finished with a swing against Charis.  In spite of being a half-second behind in her parry, Charis was able to deflect the blow with the shaft of her newly purchased pick.  Already it was clear that the ease of balancing her new weapon was paying off.  With great skill and quickness she was able to move from defense to offense.  She pushed her opponent’s sword to her right and was able to find a weak spot in her opponent’s armor.  She drove the pointed end of her pick into the flesh of the fighter who had come against her.  The fighter cursed as pain ripped through his body.  In spite of this pain he was able to recuperate his loss and manage to square up another strike.

The fighter wasn’t prepared for another magical strike, however.  From over Charis’ left shoulder he heard the same words as before.  “Thin-tok”.  He couldn’t see it forming, but the bright blue energy returned to Semeion’s fingers and leapt off his hand seeking out the opposition.  The energy ball blasted the fighter solidly in the chest and dropped him to the ground in a slightly bloodied state of unconsciousness.  Pleased at his effort, Semeion turned to find out how Ischarus was fairing.

The whole time that Rhema had been talking her own opponent out of fighting and his other associates were handling the fighter that had come up from behind, Ischarus found himself locked in a deadly combat with an opponent who matched him sword for shield.  After several defensive blocks from both fighters Ischarus was able to advance upon his opponent and land the first blow.  His sword smashed hard of his opponent’s thigh, driving a cut in the leather thigh protection that his opponent wore.

The fighter returned Ischarus’ blow with one of his own, although Ischarus was ready for the strike and observed that his opponent’s grip on his weapon had been rushed by Ischarus’ main offensive.  As his opponent’s weapon deflected of Ischarus’ shield, Ischarus pushed back against his opponent’s sword and forced it out of his hand.  Ischarus meant to take advantage of the fighter’s weakened position, but his own thrust of the sword missed just wide of the fighter’s weakened right side.  With a quick motion the fighter had his spare mace in his hand.  He used an overhand smash to bring it down upon Ischarus’ position.  Ischarus crouched a bit and raised his shield in defense.  It was here that Ischarus heard Semeion and Charis drop their enemy to the ground.

Charis yelled to Semeion, “I need to stabilize this one, go help Rhema!  I’ll help Ischarus once I’m done.”

As he turned, Semeion saw Charis bending down to stop the bleeding that her pick had brought upon the fighter.  Once she had configured a means of using her opponent’s armor to securely hold pressure over the wound, Charis moved to the fighter’s head to make sure that his signs of life were strong.  She removed his helm and gasped.  She stood as she backed up in shock and silently grabbed her pick once more.  In a few step she was in a position to help Ischarus flank his opponent.  

Ischarus saw Charis coming, and maneuvered around his opponent so that she could position herself more easily.  Ischarus swung hard with his sword, but the opposing fighter effectively used his shield to allow the blow to glance off him harmlessly.  The fighter returned the strike, but Ischarus deflected this blow away as easily as his own blow had been deflected moments ago.  Ischarus noted that the fighter was intent on bringing him to the ground.  Charis was almost completely being ignored by their mutual opponent.

Charis took advantage of the positioning and landed a clean blow against the fighter.  Her pick once more penetrated armor.  This blow caught the backside of the fighter’s right shoulder.  Like the last one, the fighter howled in pain and both Charis and Ischarus could see that the blow had weakened his offensive hand.

Ischarus lined up another shot immediately after Charis’ strike.  His intention was to keep the fighter busy and allow Charis to find another vulnerable spot.  The fighter easily parried Ischarus’ strike, although Ischarus likewise parried the fighter’s half-hearted return.  Charis lined up a second shot and her pick found home once more.  As her weapon sank deep into the back of the fighter’s left leg her opponent collapsed in pain to the ground.

Charis quickly stowed her weapon while Ischarus used his sword to push the fighter’s mace and shield away from his body.  With the skilled hands of a healer, Charis set about to mending the wounds that she had just inflicted.  As she worked, she could hear Rhema continuing her persuasive speech against the one remaining highwayman left standing.

Rhema spoke with great composure in the presence of such violence.  “Listen to me.  In a matter of less than a minute this fight was decided.  You were not harmed at all because you very intelligently did not lift up your arms against me.  Now that you have seen that I speak the truth, I ask you to lay down your weapons.  If you lay them on the ground and step away from them, I can promise that no harm will come to you.  You saw what happened to your associates.  There is no need at all for this to happen to you.”

The female highwayman nodded slowly, taking into account how her friends had been defeated.  She dropped her sword to the ground and quickly unclasped her morningstar as well.  As the ball end of her morningstar hit the ground with a solid thud, the woman undid the straps securing her shield to her arm and allowed that to fall to the ground as well.  Rhema motioned for her to move away from her weapons and the woman complied with a nod of approval.

Once the woman was far enough away, Rhema continued giving the female fighter some directions.  “Now listen carefully and nobody will get hurt, do you understand?”  Rhema asked this question rhetorically.  Although she did not expect it, Rhema received a nod to the affirmative from her opponent.  “Your friends will have their weapons and means of defending themselves taken away from them as well.  But they will not be harmed in the process.  Do not interfere when their weapons are removed and you will not be touched.”

From behind her she could hear Charis remove the helm of the opponent that had faced off against Ischarus.  This fighter caught her by as much surprise as the last.  She couldn’t help but speak out in surprise.  “They’re Drakontos, Ischarus.  Look at their eyes.  They look like mine.  They have flecks of red mixed into their human coloration.  Look at the hair.  The highlights are also red.”

Charis paused while Ischarus bent over the body for a better look.  When he stood she continued, “And I know that one back there.  That is the one we called Steg.  He was under Druff’s control before you came in and rescued me.”

Ischarus looked to the body of the fighter that Charis and Semeion had managed to knock unconscious.  “Well then, if they are Drakontos from your father dragon then it can only mean one thing.  They have been here in Tongra anticipating our return.  If Steg was the one that you felt following us for some time, he may have set up this ambush last night while we were sleeping.  But there is no way he could have returned to your village and back in a single night.  The cavernous mountain passageways would prevent movement that fast.  These three had to be here in Tongra.”

Semeion left Rhema’s side and joined in the discussion.  “If that’s the case, then they must know our route.  Could they have trailed us three months ago and we were so unaware?”

Charis nodded and in a firm voice she added, “Yes.”  Her face showed the resolve of a person born of dragon blood.  “It would not surprise me at all if my dragon father sent several groups through the mountains to follow us.  This trio here was supposed to be the insurance policy.  If everyone else failed in their task, this group would be here.”

Rhema turned to the fighter that she had charmed into listening to her.  “Is what they say true?”

The fighter replied almost immediately.  Her face seemed pleased to pass the information along to Rhema.  “It is.  Grick was supposed to finish you off.  Steg was supposed to trail him, and Grick did not know our father dragon had sent Steg behind him.  When Grick was overcome and thrown in jail, Steg returned here to set up the ambush.”

Semeion and Charis looked to Ischarus.  The tall fighter smiled slightly and spoke.  “Then the game of wits is on.  If they know our paths and they know we are coming, then they will be prepared for us.  We must find a new path.  We must find a trail that they will not expect us to take.”

The fighter that Ischarus and Charis had worked over hard moaned at their feet.  Ischarus spun around at the sound.  “Curses!” Ischarus couldn’t help but shout as he realized the conversation had caused him to forget his job.  “We have to bind them before they wake or it’ll be much more difficult!”

The trio set off binding the fallen fighters while Rhema continued to talk to the one who had decided against fighting.  “We are going to take you back to Scarhaus and place you in prison.  You have no choice in this matter if you wish to remain unharmed.  Do you understand?”

The woman scowled a bit, but nodded after a few seconds of thought.

Rhema continued her directions.  “However, since you did not raise a weapon against us I will put in a good word for you and you may not be charged.  When we return from Quehalost – or two weeks in the event we cannot return – you will be tried.  That’ll give you time to think about your choices and determine your future.  It’ll give you time to think about whether you’d rather continue to live serving an evil master like your dragon father or whether you find more honor in our mercy.  Your dragon father would have us killed.  You’ll notice that not only were your lives spared but your party’s wounds that we inflicted have been treated.”

The fighter spoke nothing in return.  A sour look settled over her face.  However, she offered up no resistance and after the party managed to find their opponent’s horses they brought the group of highwaymen back to Scarhaus for jail and an eventual trial.  Rhema argued hard for leniency in sentence for the female fighter who had not fought against them.  In the end Rhema’s arguments won her a cell in a separate area of the jail where the restrictions and punishments were not as severe.  The party decided to spend the rest of the day in Scarhaus looking for maps that might allow them to find a new path in the morning.  When evening came, they settled back in for a second night at Rapheus’ inn.  This time, Rhena was sure to give Mardak the attention that he longed for.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Rhema smiled as she realized that the highwayman who was facing her was a female and brandishing a sword as though she knew how to use it. She knew that she had backup with the knowledge that Ischarus was to her right and Charis was to her left. She had been given a moment to strike if she chose to use it before the woman could come against her. Rhema gripped the handle of her sword tightly as her mind focused on her approaching enemy. In spite of her moment of tactical advantage she also knew that her victory would be through her words and not through the skill of her blade. “Do not oppose us.” Rhema spoke softly and calmly. “You will not suffer any loss if you do not oppose us. Our fight is not with you. It never has been.”

The highwayman who had come up from behind the party yelled to the woman that Rhema had spoken. “Do not listen to that witch’s words! She’ll only try and lead you astray!”

The one to whom Rhema had spoken made no motion with her blade, although she griped the handle of her sword tightly in the midst of the confusion in her mind. Rhema had given her a decision to make. She knew the words of her associate were true enough, but even armed with the verbal support of the other highwaymen Rhema’s words had a powerful force all of their own. As the fighter stood there hesitating in her mind she heard Rhema’s words repeated over and over.

While the female highwayman stood debating her actions, the battle took a much more fierce tone on the opposite side of the horses. Semeion lined up a strike against the one who had challenged them from behind and who had yelled encouragement against Rhema’s compulsion. The familiar words came to his mind as he once again extended his fingers. “Thin-tok.” His fingers glowed with a pale blue hue for a second before the color leapt off of his hands and merged into a single energy ball. The ball sprang into action and found the target that Semeion desired. The energy ball erupted upon the fighter’s chest.

The fighter already had his weapon in hand as he stepped forward, received the blow from Semeion’s spell, and finished with a swing against Charis. In spite of being a half-second behind in her parry, Charis was able to deflect the blow with the shaft of her newly purchased pick. Already it was clear that the ease of balancing her new weapon was paying off. With great skill and quickness she was able to move from defense to offense. She pushed her opponent’s sword to her right and was able to find a weak spot in her opponent’s armor. She drove the pointed end of her pick into the flesh of the fighter who had come against her. The fighter cursed as pain ripped through his body. In spite of this pain he was able to recuperate his loss and manage to square up another strike.

The fighter wasn’t prepared for another magical strike, however. From over Charis’ left shoulder he heard the same words as before. “Thin-tok”. He couldn’t see it forming, but the bright blue energy returned to Semeion’s fingers and leapt off his hand seeking out the opposition. The energy ball blasted the fighter solidly in the chest and dropped him to the ground in a slightly bloodied state of unconsciousness. Pleased at his effort, Semeion turned to find out how Ischarus was fairing.

The whole time that Rhema had been talking her own opponent out of fighting and his other associates were handling the fighter that had come up from behind, Ischarus found himself locked in a deadly combat with an opponent who matched him sword for shield. After several defensive blocks from both fighters Ischarus was able to advance upon his opponent and land the first blow. His sword smashed hard of his opponent’s thigh, driving a cut in the leather thigh protection that his opponent wore.

The fighter returned Ischarus’ blow with one of his own, although Ischarus was ready for the strike and observed that his opponent’s grip on his weapon had been rushed by Ischarus’ main offensive. As his opponent’s weapon deflected of Ischarus’ shield, Ischarus pushed back against his opponent’s sword and forced it out of his hand. Ischarus meant to take advantage of the fighter’s weakened position, but his own thrust of the sword missed just wide of the fighter’s weakened right side. With a quick motion the fighter had his spare mace in his hand. He used an overhand smash to bring it down upon Ischarus’ position. Ischarus crouched a bit and raised his shield in defense. It was here that Ischarus heard Semeion and Charis drop their enemy to the ground.

Charis yelled to Semeion, “I need to stabilize this one, go help Rhema! I’ll help Ischarus once I’m done.”

As he turned, Semeion saw Charis bending down to stop the bleeding that her pick had brought upon the fighter. Once she had configured a means of using her opponent’s armor to securely hold pressure over the wound, Charis moved to the fighter’s head to make sure that his signs of life were strong. She removed his helm and gasped. She stood as she backed up in shock and silently grabbed her pick once more. In a few step she was in a position to help Ischarus flank his opponent. 

Ischarus saw Charis coming, and maneuvered around his opponent so that she could position herself more easily. Ischarus swung hard with his sword, but the opposing fighter effectively used his shield to allow the blow to glance off him harmlessly. The fighter returned the strike, but Ischarus deflected this blow away as easily as his own blow had been deflected moments ago. Ischarus noted that the fighter was intent on bringing him to the ground. Charis was almost completely being ignored by their mutual opponent.

Charis took advantage of the positioning and landed a clean blow against the fighter. Her pick once more penetrated armor. This blow caught the backside of the fighter’s right shoulder. Like the last one, the fighter howled in pain and both Charis and Ischarus could see that the blow had weakened his offensive hand.

Ischarus lined up another shot immediately after Charis’ strike. His intention was to keep the fighter busy and allow Charis to find another vulnerable spot. The fighter easily parried Ischarus’ strike, although Ischarus likewise parried the fighter’s half-hearted return. Charis lined up a second shot and her pick found home once more. As her weapon sank deep into the back of the fighter’s left leg her opponent collapsed in pain to the ground.

Charis quickly stowed her weapon while Ischarus used his sword to push the fighter’s mace and shield away from his body. With the skilled hands of a healer, Charis set about to mending the wounds that she had just inflicted. As she worked, she could hear Rhema continuing her persuasive speech against the one remaining highwayman left standing.

Rhema spoke with great composure in the presence of such violence. “Listen to me. In a matter of less than a minute this fight was decided. You were not harmed at all because you very intelligently did not lift up your arms against me. Now that you have seen that I speak the truth, I ask you to lay down your weapons. If you lay them on the ground and step away from them, I can promise that no harm will come to you. You saw what happened to your associates. There is no need at all for this to happen to you.”

The female highwayman nodded slowly, taking into account how her friends had been defeated. She dropped her sword to the ground and quickly unclasped her morningstar as well. As the ball end of her morningstar hit the ground with a solid thud, the woman undid the straps securing her shield to her arm and allowed that to fall to the ground as well. Rhema motioned for her to move away from her weapons and the woman complied with a nod of approval.

Once the woman was far enough away, Rhema continued giving the female fighter some directions. “Now listen carefully and nobody will get hurt, do you understand?” Rhema asked this question rhetorically. Although she did not expect it, Rhema received a nod to the affirmative from her opponent. “Your friends will have their weapons and means of defending themselves taken away from them as well. But they will not be harmed in the process. Do not interfere when their weapons are removed and you will not be touched.”

From behind her she could hear Charis remove the helm of the opponent that had faced off against Ischarus. This fighter caught her by as much surprise as the last. She couldn’t help but speak out in surprise. “They’re Drakontos, Ischarus. Look at their eyes. They look like mine. They have flecks of red mixed into their human coloration. Look at the hair. The highlights are also red.”

Charis paused while Ischarus bent over the body for a better look. When he stood she continued, “And I know that one back there. That is the one we called Steg. He was under Druff’s control before you came in and rescued me.”

Ischarus looked to the body of the fighter that Charis and Semeion had managed to knock unconscious. “Well then, if they are Drakontos from your father dragon then it can only mean one thing. They have been here in Tongra anticipating our return. If Steg was the one that you felt following us for some time, he may have set up this ambush last night while we were sleeping. But there is no way he could have returned to your village and back in a single night. The cavernous mountain passageways would prevent movement that fast. These three had to be here in Tongra.”

Semeion left Rhema’s side and joined in the discussion. “If that’s the case, then they must know our route. Could they have trailed us three months ago and we were so unaware?”

Charis nodded and in a firm voice she added, “Yes.” Her face showed the resolve of a person born of dragon blood. “It would not surprise me at all if my dragon father sent several groups through the mountains to follow us. This trio here was supposed to be the insurance policy. If everyone else failed in their task, this group would be here.”

Rhema turned to the fighter that she had charmed into listening to her. “Is what they say true?”

The fighter replied almost immediately. Her face seemed pleased to pass the information along to Rhema. “It is. Grick was supposed to finish you off. Steg was supposed to trail him, and Grick did not know our father dragon had sent Steg behind him. When Grick was overcome and thrown in jail, Steg returned here to set up the ambush.”

Semeion and Charis looked to Ischarus. The tall fighter smiled slightly and spoke. “Then the game of wits is on. If they know our paths and they know we are coming, then they will be prepared for us. We must find a new path. We must find a trail that they will not expect us to take.”

The fighter that Ischarus and Charis had worked over hard moaned at their feet. Ischarus spun around at the sound. “Curses!” Ischarus couldn’t help but shout as he realized the conversation had caused him to forget his job. “We have to bind them before they wake or it’ll be much more difficult!”

The trio set off binding the fallen fighters while Rhema continued to talk to the one who had decided against fighting. “We are going to take you back to Scarhaus and place you in prison. You have no choice in this matter if you wish to remain unharmed. Do you understand?”

The woman scowled a bit, but nodded after a few seconds of thought.

Rhema continued her directions. “However, since you did not raise a weapon against us I will put in a good word for you and you may not be charged. When we return from Quehalost – or two weeks in the event we cannot return – you will be tried. That’ll give you time to think about your choices and determine your future. It’ll give you time to think about whether you’d rather continue to live serving an evil master like your dragon father or whether you find more honor in our mercy. Your dragon father would have us killed. You’ll notice that not only were your lives spared but your party’s wounds that we inflicted have been treated.”

The fighter spoke nothing in return. A sour look settled over her face. However, she offered up no resistance and after the party managed to find their opponent’s horses they brought the group of highwaymen back to Scarhaus for jail and an eventual trial. Rhema argued hard for leniency in sentence for the female fighter who had not fought against them. In the end Rhema’s arguments won her a cell in a separate area of the jail where the restrictions and punishments were not as severe. The party decided to spend the rest of the day in Scarhaus looking for maps that might allow them to find a new path in the morning. When evening came, they settled back in for a second night at Rapheus’ inn. This time, Rhena was sure to give Mardak the attention that he longed for.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 25, 2006)

The next day the party woke before the sun crept over the horizon.  In a matter of minutes they had Rapheus out of bed to bring them their horses.  They were more than pleased to be able to leave Scarhaus and travel a good half-hour before the sun began to show above the treetops.  The previous night the party decided to make an early start in the hope that the maneuver might enable them to escape detection if yet another group of Drakontai were following them.  

This time they headed east out of Scarhaus and passed along the outskirts of Ardensdale.  Ardensdale was known for its hunter’s guild; although the village itself only had a few hundred people if that many.  The traveling foursome assumed that since Ardensdale had so few people living within it there would be little risk of traveling so close to its boundaries.  At this point in their journey they wanted as few people as possible to know of their coming.  To be safe they passed only along the very outskirts of the village.

By noon the party had begun to climb the gradual inclines leading to the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains.  After a few more hours of climbing they found the face of the rock that they were looking for.  There was a simple hole in the mountain with an outcropping of stone directly above it.  In the few maps and charts they could find in Scarhaus this hole in the mountain was called the Cyclopean Fissure.  It had gotten the name many centuries ago since the massive outcropping of stone overtop the hole looked very much like a massive hairy eyebrow over a single wide eye.  

The party also discovered that there were stories about this entrance being cursed.  The resulting reputation meant that this road was less traveled.  That reference alone spoke volumes about the trail because few of the passageways into Quehalost were traveled frequently.  If this passageway was frequented less frequently than the others then it must be hardly ever used at all.  This was a designation that suited Ischarus and his friends perfectly.  The road less traveled might be a simpler path to take in the long run.

The party quickly dismounted from their horses and Ischarus took the lead from Rhema.  Shauvry snorted as Elistra passed her, but Rhema quickly settled the dominant horse down.  Rhema followed after Ischarus with Semeion following her.  Charis and her great skill with the pick pulled up the rear of the traveling group.  Once they had passed into the tunnel, Ischarus stopped when he could no longer see.

As he stopped his progression he spoke loud enough for the whole party to hear.  “Semeion, would you do me the favor of lighting my sword with your magic?”

Semeion’s eyes rolled back for a few seconds while Semeion searched within his mind and brought forth the magical command.  “Arack!” Semeion stretched out his hand towards Ischarus’ weapon and the sword began to glow with a soft bluish yellow light.  “What we need the next time that we buy weapons is to make sure that we have enough money to afford something magical.  Master Sathwright was a master at creating magical weapons that would glow on command and cease on another command.  He had even perfected his technique enough that had had over twenty different hues of light in which any given item could shine.  I guess that’s a bit misleading.  The buyer had to pick one of the hues that my master would use in the enchantment process.  From that point on, the color was always the same.”

Rhema chuckled a bit at her own thoughts as the party began to walk forward and continue talking.  “You know, we’d sure have to make sure our command words were all different, though.”

Charis quickly agreed.  “I was just thinking the same thing!  Wouldn’t it be odd to have the weapons or items all tuned into the same command so that they would all turn on or off with only one of us speaking?  That could be a real nightmare!”

Ischarus chimed in his opinion from the front of the party.  “Yeah, but imagine the money we could make in a local tavern showing off our power of suggestion!”

The party had a good laugh and continued talking for almost a good hour as they walked through the darkened cavernous tunnel.  The conversations constantly lead them back to reminiscing about Rhema’s home in Huetown.  They spoke of their most recent trip home in terms of friends, family, the local servants of the villa, and even Grick’s stay in prison.  As they journeyed through the mountains they knew that the next light they would see would be in a hostile land that would think nothing of their destruction.  Therefore, subconsciously their thoughts continued to return joyously to their home.

Suddenly Ischarus pulled up short and instantly sheathed his sword.  The effect of this maneuver was to cast the party in the pitch blackness of the tunnel.

Rhema whispered.  “What’s up, Ischarus?”  She was closest to him and was the first to notice his intent to stop.

Ischarus whispered in return just loud enough that Semeion and Charis could only hear if they strained their ears.  “I heard what sounded like a splash of water further down the tunnel.  It was the kind of splash that I’ve heard time and time again when I step into a puddle on a street.  It wasn’t a dripping, it was a solid splash.”

Nobody in the party spoke for several minutes as they all listened for any other sign of movement.  Before too long, Rhema caught the sound of a faint dripping in the distance.  “There, in the distance ahead of us.  I hear a faint dripping.”

Ischarus listened hard, and he heard the dripping sound as well.  “Yeah, I can hear it now, too.  But I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the …”

Ischarus stopped his sentence when he realized that he was rudely interrupted by the sound of bare feet slapping against stone.  The sound was drawing nearer and nearer.  It was charging down the tunnel in their direction.  As the footfalls drew closer to the party they could see no light source coming with the slapping footsteps.  Semeion’s mind quickly guessed that their opponent didn’t need light to see for one reason or another and he called out to Ischarus in the front.  “Ischarus, the light!  They know where we are and we must be able to see them, too!”

Ischarus quickly drew out his sword once more.  It was a fortuitous draw.  As the light burst into the tunnel, the blade of the sword was met with a heavy force.  Ischarus’ blade was knocked harmlessly into his own chest, but the effect of the weapon draw was essentially a well timed parry.  Ischarus saw another blade heading for his person and stepped enough to the right to evade the strike.  As Ischarus looked to his assailants he found them difficult to see in the magical light. Their skin was nearly identical in color to the gray stone around them.  The creatures had an almost camouflaging nature about them with regard to the tunnel walls.

The creature that had struck first swung again as Ischarus tried to ready himself.  This creature’s attack was also easily sidestepped.  Ischarus could hear Charis drawing her weapon behind him.  He could also hear Rhema beginning to speak in the voice that he had come to recognize as her gift.

Her words came softly and filled with confidence.  “There is no need for aggression, friends.  If we are trespassing upon your land you merely need to step back and we can talk this matter out.  We were unaware that this ground might belong to other people.”

The leading gray skinned creature pivoted its hips slightly in her direction and let out a simple growl toward Rhema.  It bared its teeth as it growled and for the first time Rhema got a good glimpse of its face.  It looked as though it had two rows of razor sharp teeth within its mouth.  Yet this was not the most disturbing fact about the creature’s opposing them.  In the place where there should have been eyes there was a simple flesh colored void.  

Both of the creatures’ noses were wide and flat and they used these large nostrils to suck in a significant amount of air just before they swung each time.  After sucking in a deep breath the creatures returned its focus upon Ischarus and slashed out with their primitive axes.  Ischarus was able to parry these attacks before thinking about launching one of his own.

Rhema yelled as her thoughts caught up with her ability to see the party’s assailants.  “They’ve got no eyes!”  And my ability to charm them is all but ineffective!”

Charis yelled as she ran past Semeion.  Her pick was already drawn.  “Semeion, guard the horses!”  She weaved her way through Semeion, Thana, Rhema, Shauvry, and Elistra before arriving at Ischarus’ side.  She took a simple swing at one of the large gray colored humanoids.  She had hoped that her strike might just catch it off guard since she had come from the back of the pack.  Her hope was granted and her blow found its way through the creatures tougher than normal hide.  The gray assailant didn’t wear any armor, so it was not a difficult choice for Charis to figure out where to swing.

Ischarus deflected another blow as he tried to swing a strike against the one that Charis had just managed to hit.  Ischarus’ blow was weakened enough by his need to stand defensively that he could not muster any sort of power behind the assault.  His blow landed on the creature’s tough hide without penetrating and wounding the creature.

The first creature to strike out at Ischarus let out a soft howl.  Ischarus noted that had he not seen the creature make the noise he would have considered it more of a moan than anything else.  However, he did see the creature tilt its head back like a wolf and bring forth the howl.  The sound was almost perfectly modulated for the tunnels and Rhema noted that the sound carried considerably well within the tunnel walls.  The creature finished the howl with an overhand smash against Ischarus.  This blow managed to force its way past Ischarus’ parry and land hard upon his shoulder.  Ischarus winced in pain as he noticed his blood was visible on the gray warrior’s simple axe.

Rhema saw Ischarus take the blow and called her thoughts out to him.  “I bet that howl wasn’t simply a shout of exultation.  I’d expect more company before too long, Ischarus.”  As she watched him wince from the pain caused by the axe, her mind leapt forth in a mental assault upon the same one that had struck Ischarus.  The creature yelped in pain.  The sound that came from its mouth was quite similar to that of a wolf that had just been bitten or surprised.  This creature now glared past Ischarus at Rhema as if it knew where the mental attack had originated from.  In a savage fashion the gray skinned creature exposed its own double set of razor sharp teeth.

The other gray assailant switched opponents and swung wildly at Charis.  Its strong swing overcame Charis’ mild defense and battered her pick out of the way.  The Drakontos felt the cold stone axe head scrape across her skin.  When she looked down she was grateful to realize that the wound was not serious.  Ischarus had been hit for much worse.  She returned the blow to the one that she had struck moments ago.  The head of her pick sunk much more deeply into its flesh of the creature than it had just done to her.  This creature yelped in pain much like the other one yelp at Rhema’s mental assault.

Ischarus was irate at himself over the fact that he had allowed his defenses to be penetrated so easily.  He brought his sword in an upwardly curving arc against the creature that had just struck him.  The edge of the sword missed gray flesh by a matter of inches as the beast began to pull away from him to dodge the coming blow.  The gray figure let out another quick set of grunts and stepped back into the shadows.

Rhema thought about attacking the one who remained against Charis, but thought better then wasting her power upon an enemy that may have been hit hard enough so as to retreat.  The second gray creature did in fact move back into the shadows.  Ischarus and Charis stood with their weapons on the ready in case there was another attempt at an ambush.

Semeion spoke first.  “Anyone know what those things were?”  His curiosity had been aroused and he felt bad about having not much of an avenue to use his magic in such cramped fighting quarters.  He was not only behind the other three members of his party but he was behind all the horses as well.  It was simply impossible to use his magic through all of that flesh.

Charis stowed her pick and turned to make sure that Ischarus’ wound was not too serious.  Rhema shook her head at Semeion’s question.  “I’ve got nothing.  I’ve not seen anything like those creatures in the other tunnels that we’ve taken under the mountains.”

Ischarus concurred, wincing a bit at first as Charis examined his wound.  “No, I’d definitely remember fighting those things.  I never realized how creepy it is to fight an opponent that has empty flesh colored sockets where the eyes should be.”

Semeion mused over Ischarus’ words and then felt the need to reassert Rhema’s earlier point.  “Yeah.  But why develop eyes if you live in an area that has no natural light?  For that matter, why color skin as an attempt to camouflage themselves?  Either way, I doubt that’s the last we’ll see of them.  I agree with Rhema.  That howl seemed to have more of a meaning than a simple battle cry.”

Ischarus scowled as Charis pressed hard against his skin to stop the bleeding from the deep wound.  “Perhaps.  With a bit of luck, however, our show of force was enough to convince them to stay away.”


[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
The next day the party woke before the sun crept over the horizon. In a matter of minutes they had Rapheus out of bed to bring them their horses. They were more than pleased to be able to leave Scarhaus and travel a good half-hour before the sun began to show above the treetops. The previous night the party decided to make an early start in the hope that the maneuver might enable them to escape detection if yet another group of Drakontai were following them. 

This time they headed east out of Scarhaus and passed along the outskirts of Ardensdale. Ardensdale was known for its hunter’s guild; although the village itself only had a few hundred people if that many. The traveling foursome assumed that since Ardensdale had so few people living within it there would be little risk of traveling so close to its boundaries. At this point in their journey they wanted as few people as possible to know of their coming. To be safe they passed only along the very outskirts of the village.

By noon the party had begun to climb the gradual inclines leading to the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains. After a few more hours of climbing they found the face of the rock that they were looking for. There was a simple hole in the mountain with an outcropping of stone directly above it. In the few maps and charts they could find in Scarhaus this hole in the mountain was called the Cyclopean Fissure. It had gotten the name many centuries ago since the massive outcropping of stone overtop the hole looked very much like a massive hairy eyebrow over a single wide eye. 

The party also discovered that there were stories about this entrance being cursed. The resulting reputation meant that this road was less traveled. That reference alone spoke volumes about the trail because few of the passageways into Quehalost were traveled frequently. If this passageway was frequented less frequently than the others then it must be hardly ever used at all. This was a designation that suited Ischarus and his friends perfectly. The road less traveled might be a simpler path to take in the long run.

The party quickly dismounted from their horses and Ischarus took the lead from Rhema. Shauvry snorted as Elistra passed her, but Rhema quickly settled the dominant horse down. Rhema followed after Ischarus with Semeion following her. Charis and her great skill with the pick pulled up the rear of the traveling group. Once they had passed into the tunnel, Ischarus stopped when he could no longer see.

As he stopped his progression he spoke loud enough for the whole party to hear. “Semeion, would you do me the favor of lighting my sword with your magic?”

Semeion’s eyes rolled back for a few seconds while Semeion searched within his mind and brought forth the magical command. “Arack!” Semeion stretched out his hand towards Ischarus’ weapon and the sword began to glow with a soft bluish yellow light. “What we need the next time that we buy weapons is to make sure that we have enough money to afford something magical. Master Sathwright was a master at creating magical weapons that would glow on command and cease on another command. He had even perfected his technique enough that had had over twenty different hues of light in which any given item could shine. I guess that’s a bit misleading. The buyer had to pick one of the hues that my master would use in the enchantment process. From that point on, the color was always the same.”

Rhema chuckled a bit at her own thoughts as the party began to walk forward and continue talking. “You know, we’d sure have to make sure our command words were all different, though.”

Charis quickly agreed. “I was just thinking the same thing! Wouldn’t it be odd to have the weapons or items all tuned into the same command so that they would all turn on or off with only one of us speaking? That could be a real nightmare!”

Ischarus chimed in his opinion from the front of the party. “Yeah, but imagine the money we could make in a local tavern showing off our power of suggestion!”

The party had a good laugh and continued talking for almost a good hour as they walked through the darkened cavernous tunnel. The conversations constantly lead them back to reminiscing about Rhema’s home in Huetown. They spoke of their most recent trip home in terms of friends, family, the local servants of the villa, and even Grick’s stay in prison. As they journeyed through the mountains they knew that the next light they would see would be in a hostile land that would think nothing of their destruction. Therefore, subconsciously their thoughts continued to return joyously to their home.

Suddenly Ischarus pulled up short and instantly sheathed his sword. The effect of this maneuver was to cast the party in the pitch blackness of the tunnel.

Rhema whispered. “What’s up, Ischarus?” She was closest to him and was the first to notice his intent to stop.

Ischarus whispered in return just loud enough that Semeion and Charis could only hear if they strained their ears. “I heard what sounded like a splash of water further down the tunnel. It was the kind of splash that I’ve heard time and time again when I step into a puddle on a street. It wasn’t a dripping, it was a solid splash.”

Nobody in the party spoke for several minutes as they all listened for any other sign of movement. Before too long, Rhema caught the sound of a faint dripping in the distance. “There, in the distance ahead of us. I hear a faint dripping.”

Ischarus listened hard, and he heard the dripping sound as well. “Yeah, I can hear it now, too. But I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the …”

Ischarus stopped his sentence when he realized that he was rudely interrupted by the sound of bare feet slapping against stone. The sound was drawing nearer and nearer. It was charging down the tunnel in their direction. As the footfalls drew closer to the party they could see no light source coming with the slapping footsteps. Semeion’s mind quickly guessed that their opponent didn’t need light to see for one reason or another and he called out to Ischarus in the front. “Ischarus, the light! They know where we are and we must be able to see them, too!”

Ischarus quickly drew out his sword once more. It was a fortuitous draw. As the light burst into the tunnel, the blade of the sword was met with a heavy force. Ischarus’ blade was knocked harmlessly into his own chest, but the effect of the weapon draw was essentially a well timed parry. Ischarus saw another blade heading for his person and stepped enough to the right to evade the strike. As Ischarus looked to his assailants he found them difficult to see in the magical light. Their skin was nearly identical in color to the gray stone around them. The creatures had an almost camouflaging nature about them with regard to the tunnel walls.

The creature that had struck first swung again as Ischarus tried to ready himself. This creature’s attack was also easily sidestepped. Ischarus could hear Charis drawing her weapon behind him. He could also hear Rhema beginning to speak in the voice that he had come to recognize as her gift.

Her words came softly and filled with confidence. “There is no need for aggression, friends. If we are trespassing upon your land you merely need to step back and we can talk this matter out. We were unaware that this ground might belong to other people.”

The leading gray skinned creature pivoted its hips slightly in her direction and let out a simple growl toward Rhema. It bared its teeth as it growled and for the first time Rhema got a good glimpse of its face. It looked as though it had two rows of razor sharp teeth within its mouth. Yet this was not the most disturbing fact about the creature’s opposing them. In the place where there should have been eyes there was a simple flesh colored void. 

Both of the creatures’ noses were wide and flat and they used these large nostrils to suck in a significant amount of air just before they swung each time. After sucking in a deep breath the creatures returned its focus upon Ischarus and slashed out with their primitive axes. Ischarus was able to parry these attacks before thinking about launching one of his own.

Rhema yelled as her thoughts caught up with her ability to see the party’s assailants. “They’ve got no eyes!” And my ability to charm them is all but ineffective!”

Charis yelled as she ran past Semeion. Her pick was already drawn. “Semeion, guard the horses!” She weaved her way through Semeion, Thana, Rhema, Shauvry, and Elistra before arriving at Ischarus’ side. She took a simple swing at one of the large gray colored humanoids. She had hoped that her strike might just catch it off guard since she had come from the back of the pack. Her hope was granted and her blow found its way through the creatures tougher than normal hide. The gray assailant didn’t wear any armor, so it was not a difficult choice for Charis to figure out where to swing.

Ischarus deflected another blow as he tried to swing a strike against the one that Charis had just managed to hit. Ischarus’ blow was weakened enough by his need to stand defensively that he could not muster any sort of power behind the assault. His blow landed on the creature’s tough hide without penetrating and wounding the creature.

The first creature to strike out at Ischarus let out a soft howl. Ischarus noted that had he not seen the creature make the noise he would have considered it more of a moan than anything else. However, he did see the creature tilt its head back like a wolf and bring forth the howl. The sound was almost perfectly modulated for the tunnels and Rhema noted that the sound carried considerably well within the tunnel walls. The creature finished the howl with an overhand smash against Ischarus. This blow managed to force its way past Ischarus’ parry and land hard upon his shoulder. Ischarus winced in pain as he noticed his blood was visible on the gray warrior’s simple axe.

Rhema saw Ischarus take the blow and called her thoughts out to him. “I bet that howl wasn’t simply a shout of exultation. I’d expect more company before too long, Ischarus.” As she watched him wince from the pain caused by the axe, her mind leapt forth in a mental assault upon the same one that had struck Ischarus. The creature yelped in pain. The sound that came from its mouth was quite similar to that of a wolf that had just been bitten or surprised. This creature now glared past Ischarus at Rhema as if it knew where the mental attack had originated from. In a savage fashion the gray skinned creature exposed its own double set of razor sharp teeth.

The other gray assailant switched opponents and swung wildly at Charis. Its strong swing overcame Charis’ mild defense and battered her pick out of the way. The Drakontos felt the cold stone axe head scrape across her skin. When she looked down she was grateful to realize that the wound was not serious. Ischarus had been hit for much worse. She returned the blow to the one that she had struck moments ago. The head of her pick sunk much more deeply into its flesh of the creature than it had just done to her. This creature yelped in pain much like the other one yelp at Rhema’s mental assault.

Ischarus was irate at himself over the fact that he had allowed his defenses to be penetrated so easily. He brought his sword in an upwardly curving arc against the creature that had just struck him. The edge of the sword missed gray flesh by a matter of inches as the beast began to pull away from him to dodge the coming blow. The gray figure let out another quick set of grunts and stepped back into the shadows.

Rhema thought about attacking the one who remained against Charis, but thought better then wasting her power upon an enemy that may have been hit hard enough so as to retreat. The second gray creature did in fact move back into the shadows. Ischarus and Charis stood with their weapons on the ready in case there was another attempt at an ambush.

Semeion spoke first. “Anyone know what those things were?” His curiosity had been aroused and he felt bad about having not much of an avenue to use his magic in such cramped fighting quarters. He was not only behind the other three members of his party but he was behind all the horses as well. It was simply impossible to use his magic through all of that flesh.

Charis stowed her pick and turned to make sure that Ischarus’ wound was not too serious. Rhema shook her head at Semeion’s question. “I’ve got nothing. I’ve not seen anything like those creatures in the other tunnels that we’ve taken under the mountains.”

Ischarus concurred, wincing a bit at first as Charis examined his wound. “No, I’d definitely remember fighting those things. I never realized how creepy it is to fight an opponent that has empty flesh colored sockets where the eyes should be.”

Semeion mused over Ischarus’ words and then felt the need to reassert Rhema’s earlier point. “Yeah. But why develop eyes if you live in an area that has no natural light? For that matter, why color skin as an attempt to camouflage themselves? Either way, I doubt that’s the last we’ll see of them. I agree with Rhema. That howl seemed to have more of a meaning than a simple battle cry.”

Ischarus scowled as Charis pressed hard against his skin to stop the bleeding from the deep wound. “Perhaps. With a bit of luck, however, our show of force was enough to convince them to stay away.”
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 27, 2006)

Semeion turned a sharp look in Ischarus’ direction as the figures could be heard retreating further into the darkness of the tunnel.  “If I can make a suggestion, keep your sword out next time so that you can see them coming.”

Semeion didn’t meant it to come out as sharply as it had, and Ischarus heard it a bit more sharply than Semeion actually said it.  “This coming from the one who stood back and tended the horses!  You aren’t the one who got injured and paid the price for that decision!”

Semeion looked a bit surprised at Ischarus’ outburst.  “I didn’t mean it like that!”  He objected stubbornly to Ischarus’ retort.

Ischarus shot him an irritated glance and was about to speak when Charis stepped between them on her way back to Abijou’s side.  “I think what he meant, Ischarus, is that since they don’t seem to have any eyes then there’s little reason to stow your sword.  If they don’t depend on light, they can locate us by other means.  We don’t have the same luxury.  But if they don’t need the light and we do, you might as well just keep it out.” 

Both Ischarus and Semeion looked as though they were about to speak when Charis cut them off again with her words.  “And, yes, Semeion, it did come out sharply whether you meant it to be that sharp or not.”

Rhema jumped in on the high-road bandwagon and Charis was more than welcome to allow her participation.  “Now come on, the both of you.  We’ve had a long couple of days ride and the setbacks from yesterday’s fog and fight didn’t put any of us in a particularly good mood.  Add that to the fact that we are essentially walking blindly through the tunnels simply trying to find our way out to the other side and we have the making for short fuses.  I suggest we put the energy coming from our frustration to work in moving away quickly before those things come back with reinforcements.”

Ischarus’ look softened a bit, and Semeion gave a slight smile.  “I am sorry if you were injured because I could not use my magic, friend.  You bear your pain well.”

Ischarus burst into a hearty laugh, releasing the anger that his injuries had caused inside.  “I bear my wounds as well as a four year old boy who has been slapped on the wrist and told to go stand in the corner!  But your words of peace are accepted nonetheless.  Come now, Rhema gave good counsel.  Let’s go before reinforcements come.”

Charis rose from the ground where she had been crouched as she tended her own wounds.  “Too late.  I hear bare feet striking against the stone, and this time there is more of them.”

Ischarus turned and faced the tunnel from the direction of the noise.  Several howls of exaltation could be heard as the footsteps grew closer.  “Those howls I don’t need translated.  They expect victory.”

The dull slapping of flat-footed skin upon the stone increased in both intensity and pace.  Charis’ eyes darted back and forth as she focused her thoughts.  “I count four, Ischarus.  They’ll not be able to fight more than three abreast in this tunnel, and neither can we.  Their numbers will give them no greater advantage until the first one is dropped and a fresh replacement comes forth.”

Ischarus smiled broadly.  He yelled a shout of exaltation to rival the exultation of the howls that came through the tunnels at their approach.  “Then brace yourself against their charge and make the first ones fall quickly!”

Rhema noted that Ischarus seemed to be enjoying this moment of retribution far too much.  “Remember our pledge, Ischarus!”

As the first of the gray skinned assailants broke into the area of light provided by Ischarus’ sword he yelled back, “But of course, milady.  We shall not have anyone fainting at the sight of death around here!”

As if to allow Ischarus’ slightly mocking reply to pass straight through her, Rhema yelled forward, “The one in the middle and the one behind are wounded, Ischarus.”

Charis had noticed what Rhema saw as well.  Two of the four bore the marks of battle.  There could be no doubt that two of the four had come back to them to fight now that they had reinforcements.

One of the new reinforcements struck hard as it charged down the cavernous tunnel towards Charis.  Its savage blow penetrated Charis defenses, knocking her pick to the ground and several pings of metal bouncing off of stone echoed through across the tunnel walls.  Charis thought for a moment to pick it up until she realized that her wound from the attack was severe enough to need attention immediately.

Noticing that the assailants were charging hard and catching Ischarus and Charis off guard once more, Rhema focused her mind hard on the middle once as it charged.  She recognized this one as the one that she had previously injured herself.  She focused her mind upon the head of the foe as it neared the party.  As if being struck by an invisible force, the creature dropped its axe and collapsed to the floor.  It grasped its head as it lapsed into unconsciousness and eventually lay still upon the floor.

The second newcomer broke for the party at nearly the same time as the first one.  Since Rhema had focused her attention on the already wounded one, Ischarus braced his shield to accept the charging blow.  With a single quick motion the beast struck the side of Ischarus’ shield with the butt end of his axe, exposing his left flank.  A simple turn of the wrist brought the sharp end against Ischarus and dug deep into his side.  Thick red blood spilled from the wound as the creature pulled his blade from Ischarus’ side.  Rhema winced as she saw the blood.  Ischarus dropped to a single knee.

Charis had extended her hand and prepared to heal her own wound when she watched Ischarus be overcome by the serious blow.  In a selfless act her hand turned away from her own flesh and rested upon Ischarus’ shoulder.  “Bondras-tol Egro!”  A yellow radiance emanated from her fingers, beginning with her thumb and circling around her hand until the light passed into Ischarus.  Within seconds Ischarus wound was sealed and his strength returned.

However, Ischarus’ run of bad luck would continue for yet another blow.  The final assailant – the one still standing who had been wounded from the previous encounter – filled the gap that was left when Rhema used her mental powers to take out the creature now lying upon the floor.  As the assailant stepped up to fill the ranks, it took advantage of Ischarus’ recovery period and landed a clean blow across his arm.  This wound was much less severe, although Ischarus’ eyes burned with a deep fire of vengeance upon receiving the blow.

As Ischarus rose from Charis’ moment of healing, he focused on the creature that had just struck him across the arm.  He recognized the creature as being the most wounded and thus the most vulnerable.  His sword flashed forward in a simple attack and pierced the already wounded creature.  The blind beast stumbled back from the blow and fell to the ground in pain.  

Semeion had been planning to fire one of his energy blasts at the wounded creature, but when he noticed that Ischarus had taken care of him Semeion found a new target.  Charis had lost her weapon and was facing an opponent that had already delivered a serious blow.  His mouth easily formed the words that had become familiar to him.  “Thin-tok.”  His fingers extended and the blue energy quickly leapt off his hand and struck the creature that faced off against Charis.

The creature that Semeion had just struck howled in pain as Semeion’s energy ball crashed into its chest.  Furious with rage, the beast swung its axe across Charis’ path.  Charis saw the attack coming and while she prepared to touch Ischarus again with her healing energies she raised her shield to counter the wild blow.  The axe glanced off her steel shield with a loud ring. 

Charis followed the defeated attack with a quick magical command of her own.  Again she desired to help Ischarus’ pain.  “Bondras-tol Egro!”  Once more Ischarus was surrounded and healed by the radiant light emanating from her hand.

Rhema watched as the creature missed Charis with a poorly timed wrathful strike.  She focused her own mind in vast contrast to the creature’s rage.  Rhema shot forth another mental attack.  The creature howled once more and for a moment looked as though it would drop its own axe from the crushing pain in its head.

The creature regained control in time to slice off another attack aimed viciously for Charis’ head.  Charis deflected the blow again with her shield as she now prepared to heal herself.  As the stone axe rang off the steel shield her words of healing could be heard once more echoing through the tunnel.  “Bondras-tol Egro!”  This time Ischarus was not the recipient of her healing powers.  The radiant light wrapped around herself and strengthened her.

As Charis ducked under the attack and healed herself, Rhema knew she still needed protection.  She focused her mental attacks once more and forced pain upon the mind of the gray skinned creature.  This time the creature tilted back its head in a deep howl of pain and dropped its stone axe onto the floor.  The creature dropped to its knees under the pain before collapsing face first onto the floor.

While the creature that was attacking Charis was being fought off by Rhema, Ischarus and Semeion had their hands full against the other creature.  The beast took a vicious swing against Ischarus, but the experienced fighter was learning the creature’s tactics.  Ischarus parried the axe harmlessly to the side with the help of his own blade.  On account of needing to use his sword for the parry, Ischarus was unable to strike seriously at the gray skinned creature and as a result his own attack fell wide.  However, when Ischarus’ strike missed wide he could hear Semeion’s voice behind him as an opening in the melee appeared.  “Thin-tok”  Ischarus watched as the blue energy ball narrowly slid past his own shoulder and landed solidly against the creature.

The beast howled in rage once more, still feeling as though success could be within its grasp. Like its companion, it used its own rage to strike furiously towards Ischarus.  Ischarus saw an opportunity, but in order to take advantage of the opening he dropped his sword on the ground as he ducked beneath the creature’s attack.  For the first time in life or death combat Ischarus exploded in magical power of his own.  “Fashiir-gat!” 

Ischarus extended his fingers in the direction of his opponent.  For only a split second, each small portion of air between himself and the creature froze.  Once the frozen air extended out and reached the creature the particles next to Ischarus’ hand appeared to melt and return to normal.  The area of impact on the skin of the creature turned a faint frosty color before also returning to normal.  The creature howled again at the pain and the recognition that its ally who had been attacking Charis had now fallen.  Ischarus yelled in pure delight at the success of the spell.  “Ha!  My first ever combat spell!”

Semeion yelled from behind him.  “Well cast, Ischarus.  Now get back to the swordplay that you excel in!”

Once the opponent attacking Charis had fallen, it meant that the entire party could focus upon the creature still attacking Ischarus.  Rhema once more focused her mind against the beast and this attack only caused a mild reaction in the gray skinned creature.  The pain from the attack was enough to force its own attack to be lessened.  Ischarus was easily able to deflect the creature’s blow.  Ischarus rose after casting his spell and using his shield to deflect the creature’s attack.  He picked up his sword and drove it in an upward thrust toward the creature.  The blind creature heard the attack coming and despite missing Ischarus it was able to twist away from the blow.

Semeion chided from the back row once more, “Ha!  Well, perhaps you should go back to casting spells, then!” 

While Semeion yelled, Charis retrieved her weapon from the ground and half-heartedly attacked the remaining creature.  Her blow missed the beast, but it was enough to alert it to the fact that it was slowly being outnumbered.

The creature adopted a parrying posture and stepped back.  It looked as though it was about to howl for reinforcements as the other one had done previously.  Rhema noticed the motion and focused her powers once more.  She knew that this had already been a costly battle in regard to using her powers, but this last strike was necessary.  The creature dropped to a knee in pain.  Yet before the rest of the party could take advantage of the position it was back on its feet.

Ischarus and Charis both advanced to challenge the sole remaining adversary.  Ischarus struck hard, intentionally drawing the creature’s parry.  Charis snuck the long point of her pick into the creature’s side, collapsing it to the ground in pain.

Once the last of the threat had fallen, Ischarus extended his sword away from him in a posture for allowing the most illumination possible.  Charis immediately stowed her weapon and began tending the fallen creatures.  She shook her head at the seemingly senselessness of the whole combat.  They could not allow the creatures to die; it wasn’t their way.  However, the creatures would not let the party move on without a fight.  It was a horrible predicament to constantly drive one’s opponents to the brink of death and then treat their wounds and mend them so that they could recover after they were long gone.  Yet, it was the best they could do at this time.  In a cruel world that mandated battles of life or death it was necessary that they fight hard and choose life for all those involved.

Semeion and Rhema worked hard in removing the stone axes in case the gray creatures woke before they could make a serious escape down the tunnel.  Once the weapons had been collected and Charis was convinced that their opposition would recover, they set out once more down the unknown tunnels.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Semeion turned a sharp look in Ischarus’ direction as the figures could be heard retreating further into the darkness of the tunnel. “If I can make a suggestion, keep your sword out next time so that you can see them coming.”

Semeion didn’t meant it to come out as sharply as it had, and Ischarus heard it a bit more sharply than Semeion actually said it. “This coming from the one who stood back and tended the horses! You aren’t the one who got injured and paid the price for that decision!”

Semeion looked a bit surprised at Ischarus’ outburst. “I didn’t mean it like that!” He objected stubbornly to Ischarus’ retort.

Ischarus shot him an irritated glance and was about to speak when Charis stepped between them on her way back to Abijou’s side. “I think what he meant, Ischarus, is that since they don’t seem to have any eyes then there’s little reason to stow your sword. If they don’t depend on light, they can locate us by other means. We don’t have the same luxury. But if they don’t need the light and we do, you might as well just keep it out.” 

Both Ischarus and Semeion looked as though they were about to speak when Charis cut them off again with her words. “And, yes, Semeion, it did come out sharply whether you meant it to be that sharp or not.”

Rhema jumped in on the high-road bandwagon and Charis was more than welcome to allow her participation. “Now come on, the both of you. We’ve had a long couple of days ride and the setbacks from yesterday’s fog and fight didn’t put any of us in a particularly good mood. Add that to the fact that we are essentially walking blindly through the tunnels simply trying to find our way out to the other side and we have the making for short fuses. I suggest we put the energy coming from our frustration to work in moving away quickly before those things come back with reinforcements.”

Ischarus’ look softened a bit, and Semeion gave a slight smile. “I am sorry if you were injured because I could not use my magic, friend. You bear your pain well.”

Ischarus burst into a hearty laugh, releasing the anger that his injuries had caused inside. “I bear my wounds as well as a four year old boy who has been slapped on the wrist and told to go stand in the corner! But your words of peace are accepted nonetheless. Come now, Rhema gave good counsel. Let’s go before reinforcements come.”

Charis rose from the ground where she had been crouched as she tended her own wounds. “Too late. I hear bare feet striking against the stone, and this time there is more of them.”

Ischarus turned and faced the tunnel from the direction of the noise. Several howls of exaltation could be heard as the footsteps grew closer. “Those howls I don’t need translated. They expect victory.”

The dull slapping of flat-footed skin upon the stone increased in both intensity and pace. Charis’ eyes darted back and forth as she focused her thoughts. “I count four, Ischarus. They’ll not be able to fight more than three abreast in this tunnel, and neither can we. Their numbers will give them no greater advantage until the first one is dropped and a fresh replacement comes forth.”

Ischarus smiled broadly. He yelled a shout of exaltation to rival the exultation of the howls that came through the tunnels at their approach. “Then brace yourself against their charge and make the first ones fall quickly!”

Rhema noted that Ischarus seemed to be enjoying this moment of retribution far too much. “Remember our pledge, Ischarus!”

As the first of the gray skinned assailants broke into the area of light provided by Ischarus’ sword he yelled back, “But of course, milady. We shall not have anyone fainting at the sight of death around here!”

As if to allow Ischarus’ slightly mocking reply to pass straight through her, Rhema yelled forward, “The one in the middle and the one behind are wounded, Ischarus.”

Charis had noticed what Rhema saw as well. Two of the four bore the marks of battle. There could be no doubt that two of the four had come back to them to fight now that they had reinforcements.

One of the new reinforcements struck hard as it charged down the cavernous tunnel towards Charis. Its savage blow penetrated Charis defenses, knocking her pick to the ground and several pings of metal bouncing off of stone echoed through across the tunnel walls. Charis thought for a moment to pick it up until she realized that her wound from the attack was severe enough to need attention immediately.

Noticing that the assailants were charging hard and catching Ischarus and Charis off guard once more, Rhema focused her mind hard on the middle once as it charged. She recognized this one as the one that she had previously injured herself. She focused her mind upon the head of the foe as it neared the party. As if being struck by an invisible force, the creature dropped its axe and collapsed to the floor. It grasped its head as it lapsed into unconsciousness and eventually lay still upon the floor.

The second newcomer broke for the party at nearly the same time as the first one. Since Rhema had focused her attention on the already wounded one, Ischarus braced his shield to accept the charging blow. With a single quick motion the beast struck the side of Ischarus’ shield with the butt end of his axe, exposing his left flank. A simple turn of the wrist brought the sharp end against Ischarus and dug deep into his side. Thick red blood spilled from the wound as the creature pulled his blade from Ischarus’ side. Rhema winced as she saw the blood. Ischarus dropped to a single knee.

Charis had extended her hand and prepared to heal her own wound when she watched Ischarus be overcome by the serious blow. In a selfless act her hand turned away from her own flesh and rested upon Ischarus’ shoulder. “Bondras-tol Egro!” A yellow radiance emanated from her fingers, beginning with her thumb and circling around her hand until the light passed into Ischarus. Within seconds Ischarus wound was sealed and his strength returned.

However, Ischarus’ run of bad luck would continue for yet another blow. The final assailant – the one still standing who had been wounded from the previous encounter – filled the gap that was left when Rhema used her mental powers to take out the creature now lying upon the floor. As the assailant stepped up to fill the ranks, it took advantage of Ischarus’ recovery period and landed a clean blow across his arm. This wound was much less severe, although Ischarus’ eyes burned with a deep fire of vengeance upon receiving the blow.

As Ischarus rose from Charis’ moment of healing, he focused on the creature that had just struck him across the arm. He recognized the creature as being the most wounded and thus the most vulnerable. His sword flashed forward in a simple attack and pierced the already wounded creature. The blind beast stumbled back from the blow and fell to the ground in pain. 

Semeion had been planning to fire one of his energy blasts at the wounded creature, but when he noticed that Ischarus had taken care of him Semeion found a new target. Charis had lost her weapon and was facing an opponent that had already delivered a serious blow. His mouth easily formed the words that had become familiar to him. “Thin-tok.” His fingers extended and the blue energy quickly leapt off his hand and struck the creature that faced off against Charis.

The creature that Semeion had just struck howled in pain as Semeion’s energy ball crashed into its chest. Furious with rage, the beast swung its axe across Charis’ path. Charis saw the attack coming and while she prepared to touch Ischarus again with her healing energies she raised her shield to counter the wild blow. The axe glanced off her steel shield with a loud ring. 

Charis followed the defeated attack with a quick magical command of her own. Again she desired to help Ischarus’ pain. “Bondras-tol Egro!” Once more Ischarus was surrounded and healed by the radiant light emanating from her hand.

Rhema watched as the creature missed Charis with a poorly timed wrathful strike. She focused her own mind in vast contrast to the creature’s rage. Rhema shot forth another mental attack. The creature howled once more and for a moment looked as though it would drop its own axe from the crushing pain in its head.

The creature regained control in time to slice off another attack aimed viciously for Charis’ head. Charis deflected the blow again with her shield as she now prepared to heal herself. As the stone axe rang off the steel shield her words of healing could be heard once more echoing through the tunnel. “Bondras-tol Egro!” This time Ischarus was not the recipient of her healing powers. The radiant light wrapped around herself and strengthened her.

As Charis ducked under the attack and healed herself, Rhema knew she still needed protection. She focused her mental attacks once more and forced pain upon the mind of the gray skinned creature. This time the creature tilted back its head in a deep howl of pain and dropped its stone axe onto the floor. The creature dropped to its knees under the pain before collapsing face first onto the floor.

While the creature that was attacking Charis was being fought off by Rhema, Ischarus and Semeion had their hands full against the other creature. The beast took a vicious swing against Ischarus, but the experienced fighter was learning the creature’s tactics. Ischarus parried the axe harmlessly to the side with the help of his own blade. On account of needing to use his sword for the parry, Ischarus was unable to strike seriously at the gray skinned creature and as a result his own attack fell wide. However, when Ischarus’ strike missed wide he could hear Semeion’s voice behind him as an opening in the melee appeared. “Thin-tok” Ischarus watched as the blue energy ball narrowly slid past his own shoulder and landed solidly against the creature.

The beast howled in rage once more, still feeling as though success could be within its grasp. Like its companion, it used its own rage to strike furiously towards Ischarus. Ischarus saw an opportunity, but in order to take advantage of the opening he dropped his sword on the ground as he ducked beneath the creature’s attack. For the first time in life or death combat Ischarus exploded in magical power of his own. “Fashiir-gat!” 

Ischarus extended his fingers in the direction of his opponent. For only a split second, each small portion of air between himself and the creature froze. Once the frozen air extended out and reached the creature the particles next to Ischarus’ hand appeared to melt and return to normal. The area of impact on the skin of the creature turned a faint frosty color before also returning to normal. The creature howled again at the pain and the recognition that its ally who had been attacking Charis had now fallen. Ischarus yelled in pure delight at the success of the spell. “Ha! My first ever combat spell!”

Semeion yelled from behind him. “Well cast, Ischarus. Now get back to the swordplay that you excel in!”

Once the opponent attacking Charis had fallen, it meant that the entire party could focus upon the creature still attacking Ischarus. Rhema once more focused her mind against the beast and this attack only caused a mild reaction in the gray skinned creature. The pain from the attack was enough to force its own attack to be lessened. Ischarus was easily able to deflect the creature’s blow. Ischarus rose after casting his spell and using his shield to deflect the creature’s attack. He picked up his sword and drove it in an upward thrust toward the creature. The blind creature heard the attack coming and despite missing Ischarus it was able to twist away from the blow.

Semeion chided from the back row once more, “Ha! Well, perhaps you should go back to casting spells, then!” 

While Semeion yelled, Charis retrieved her weapon from the ground and half-heartedly attacked the remaining creature. Her blow missed the beast, but it was enough to alert it to the fact that it was slowly being outnumbered.

The creature adopted a parrying posture and stepped back. It looked as though it was about to howl for reinforcements as the other one had done previously. Rhema noticed the motion and focused her powers once more. She knew that this had already been a costly battle in regard to using her powers, but this last strike was necessary. The creature dropped to a knee in pain. Yet before the rest of the party could take advantage of the position it was back on its feet.

Ischarus and Charis both advanced to challenge the sole remaining adversary. Ischarus struck hard, intentionally drawing the creature’s parry. Charis snuck the long point of her pick into the creature’s side, collapsing it to the ground in pain.

Once the last of the threat had fallen, Ischarus extended his sword away from him in a posture for allowing the most illumination possible. Charis immediately stowed her weapon and began tending the fallen creatures. She shook her head at the seemingly senselessness of the whole combat. They could not allow the creatures to die; it wasn’t their way. However, the creatures would not let the party move on without a fight. It was a horrible predicament to constantly drive one’s opponents to the brink of death and then treat their wounds and mend them so that they could recover after they were long gone. Yet, it was the best they could do at this time. In a cruel world that mandated battles of life or death it was necessary that they fight hard and choose life for all those involved.

Semeion and Rhema worked hard in removing the stone axes in case the gray creatures woke before they could make a serious escape down the tunnel. Once the weapons had been collected and Charis was convinced that their opposition would recover, they set out once more down the unknown tunnels.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 28, 2006)

The party walked cautiously through the tunnels for another hour before Ischarus showed any sign of slowing.  Once he was sure that they had traveled a good bit away from the last encounter he began to slow his pacing to allow the others to walk in a more tight formation.  “I think our horses could use a rest.  Considering all that has happened, I think that they’ve been remarkably well tempered.  Anyone else concur?”

Rhema took full advantage of the opportunity to rest themselves and the horses.  “I don’t know that I can speak to the horses, but I am a bit worried about the wounds that you and Charis took earlier.  You didn’t stop to treat them before we left and I know at least in your case that Charis’ healing could not have cured all of your injuries.  If nothing else, a rest would provide us a bit of time to relax, catch our breath, check out your wounds, and talk about what lies behind us.”

Semeion added to Rhema’s comments as he closed the distance between himself and Ischarus.  “Don’t forget about what still lies before us, Rhema.”

Rhema answered Semeion’s assertion.  “Unfortunately, we don’t know exactly where this tunnel will bring us out.  And neither Ischarus nor myself knows Quehalost well enough to be able to know what to expect.  Talking about what lies before us may not be all that easy to predict.”

Ischarus spoke up, intentionally ignoring the conversation path that Semeion and Rhema had chosen.  He felt it necessary to address his wounded state and alleviate any concern.  “Besides, I’m fine.  There’s no real reason to worry that I won’t be alright.  Charis healed me with her magic, I’ll be alright.”

At this point Charis felt the need to step in and back up Rhema’s concern.  “And there’s no real reason that I shouldn’t have a good look at you, either.  The wounds that you took were fairly severe and my healing magic is not yet all that powerful.  I’d feel much better if you allowed me to examine your wounds.”

A proud look of machismo crossed Ischarus face as if to imply that he didn’t need assistance.  Rhema saw the look and intervened on Charis’ behalf.  Her tone was not unlike a mother whose son was putting up a mild protest of willpower.  “Take of your leather coat and strip off that shirt.  Charis is a skilled healer and we’ve got the time.  Once we saw her skills we knew she would make a great addition to the party.  If we aren’t going to use her skills, then why are we risking her life?”

Ischarus smiled as the instinct to follow Rhema’s command kicked in.  “Well, if the situation was a little bit different I’d think there was more to that command than merely wanting to make sure I’m healing properly.”

The comment caught Rhema off-guard.  She glanced to Ischarus with a look of surprise upon her face, but Ischarus’ face appeared as stone.  There was virtually no sign of emotion as he slowly unbuttoned his leather armor coat and peeled it away from his skin.  As he did so, he winced considerably.

Charis smirked as Ischarus winced.  “See, now?  Aren’t you glad that I demanded this examination?  You’re obviously still in some kind of pain.”

Ischarus continued his macho protest.  “Stiffness from the wound that your magic healed, that’s all.”  Having removed his leather, he unfastened the metal hooks that held his shirt together around his body.  With another wince of pain he had this removed this layer as well.

Charis snorted in amusement and set to examine his injuries.  “Well, it may be mostly stiffness, but your wound is still rather raw.  I honestly don’t think that it poses any immediate danger, but if we have a trouble free remainder of the day I’ll cast another healing spell on you before retiring for the evening.  That should go a fair way towards making the wound insignificant tomorrow.”

When Charis was done examining him, Ischarus quickly donned his shirt and leather once more.  He spotted Semeion sitting up the tunnel a few feet, watching over the horses.  He slowly walked towards him, leaving Charis and Rhema to watch the tunnel from the direction that they had just come.  

Semeion looked up as he heard Ischarus’ footsteps and spoke.  “You’ve honestly got no idea what those things were?”

Ischarus smiled.  Semeion had read his mind.  “I was actually just about to ask you the same thing, Semeion.  In all of your studies you’ve not read of such a beast?  They seemed rather magical to me.”

Semeion wrinkled his eyebrows as Ischarus concluded his thought on the possibility of their magical background.  He turned his head up the tunnel and stared into the darkness.  “Magical?  How so?  The things never once cast a spell – unless they have learned how to cast spells silently and without even a gesture!”

Ischarus crouched down beside Semeion so that he could lower his volume, although he was not intentionally keeping this discussion from Charis or Rhema.  “The creatures didn’t have any eyes at all, Semeion.  There must have been some kind of magic behind them to allow them to see.  They were difficult opponents as it was.  I can’t imagine what they would have been like if they had eyes!”

Semeion rubbed the stubble that had appeared since his last shave back at Rhema’s family villa.  “Do me a favor, Ischarus.  Sheathe your sword for a moment.”

Ischarus gave Semeion a confused look, but didn’t see any reason not to comply.  As soon as the light from his sword was hidden both Semeion and Ischarus heard a shout from down the tunnel.

The shout was from Charis who grew concerned at the loss of light.  “Everything alright up there?

Semeion called back in a calm tone.  “Couldn’t be better.  The light will be back in just a second.”  Once he was sure that the women at the other end of their horse pack wouldn’t be yelling anything more, Semeion dragged his fingers slowly across the tunnel floor until he found what he was looking for.  His fingers wrapped around a small pebble not more than an inch in diameter.  After picking it up and shifting his grip, Semeion threw it hard against the far wall of the tunnel.  He could hear Ischarus shift his feet in the direction that he had thrown the rock.  

Semeion smiled as he prepared to continue the lesson.  He never considered how far he had come since ceasing to be the pupil under his master.  “Ischarus, how did you know to turn the way that you did?”

Ischarus replied without hesitation.  “Well, that’s rather easy.  I heard a noise against … oh.  I see what you did here.  So you honestly think that those creatures didn’t have any magical qualities about them, its just that their other senses are so much better tuned than ours?”

Semeion nodded, not realizing that he could not be seen without the light of Ischarus’ sword.  “That would be my guess.  They might be magical, but if they are I have never heard of such beings.  My guess is that they have lived among the darkness of the mountains for so long that their eyes have merely vanished.  Why carry around a liability like an eye socket when it serves you no purpose other than to be injured?”

Ischarus thought for a moment at Semeion’s assertion before agreeing.  “Interesting.  If you are correct, that would explain the thick patch of skin covering the place where their eyes should have been.  The skin would help protect the vulnerable spot since it wasn’t needed.”

Semeion continued his thought a bit further.  “That would also explain their skin.  You and I have color in our skin because we dwell on the surface.  Our skin has to be able to change colors as a defense against the sun.  I’m sure you’ve noticed that people tan the more they spend time outside in the summer months.”

Ischarus drew his sword, having had enough of the darkness.  Talking about not being able to see made him uneasy.  This discussion reminded him that in darkness the creature’s ability to not be reliant upon sight actually gave them an advantage.  “So if they seldom had contact with the sun – perhaps even never – you are saying that their skin would lose its color and turn that shade of gray?”

Semeion smiled at Ischarus’ mental curiosity. “It is only a guess, Ischarus.  But you do show great promise.  There may be hope for you as a spell caster yet!”

The pair of men enjoyed a hearty laugh as Ischarus began to talk to Semeion about a few of the spells that Brandt had helped him discover.  Neither of the men saw the smiles that appeared on the women as they heard the men laughing together and healing the emotional wound that had been opened before their last encounter.  Perhaps there was more sense in stopping to rest and heal than they first thought.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
The party walked cautiously through the tunnels for another hour before Ischarus showed any sign of slowing. Once he was sure that they had traveled a good bit away from the last encounter he began to slow his pacing to allow the others to walk in a more tight formation. “I think our horses could use a rest. Considering all that has happened, I think that they’ve been remarkably well tempered. Anyone else concur?”

Rhema took full advantage of the opportunity to rest themselves and the horses. “I don’t know that I can speak to the horses, but I am a bit worried about the wounds that you and Charis took earlier. You didn’t stop to treat them before we left and I know at least in your case that Charis’ healing could not have cured all of your injuries. If nothing else, a rest would provide us a bit of time to relax, catch our breath, check out your wounds, and talk about what lies behind us.”

Semeion added to Rhema’s comments as he closed the distance between himself and Ischarus. “Don’t forget about what still lies before us, Rhema.”

Rhema answered Semeion’s assertion. “Unfortunately, we don’t know exactly where this tunnel will bring us out. And neither Ischarus nor myself knows Quehalost well enough to be able to know what to expect. Talking about what lies before us may not be all that easy to predict.”

Ischarus spoke up, intentionally ignoring the conversation path that Semeion and Rhema had chosen. He felt it necessary to address his wounded state and alleviate any concern. “Besides, I’m fine. There’s no real reason to worry that I won’t be alright. Charis healed me with her magic, I’ll be alright.”

At this point Charis felt the need to step in and back up Rhema’s concern. “And there’s no real reason that I shouldn’t have a good look at you, either. The wounds that you took were fairly severe and my healing magic is not yet all that powerful. I’d feel much better if you allowed me to examine your wounds.”

A proud look of machismo crossed Ischarus face as if to imply that he didn’t need assistance. Rhema saw the look and intervened on Charis’ behalf. Her tone was not unlike a mother whose son was putting up a mild protest of willpower. “Take of your leather coat and strip off that shirt. Charis is a skilled healer and we’ve got the time. Once we saw her skills we knew she would make a great addition to the party. If we aren’t going to use her skills, then why are we risking her life?”

Ischarus smiled as the instinct to follow Rhema’s command kicked in. “Well, if the situation was a little bit different I’d think there was more to that command than merely wanting to make sure I’m healing properly.”

The comment caught Rhema off-guard. She glanced to Ischarus with a look of surprise upon her face, but Ischarus’ face appeared as stone. There was virtually no sign of emotion as he slowly unbuttoned his leather armor coat and peeled it away from his skin. As he did so, he winced considerably.

Charis smirked as Ischarus winced. “See, now? Aren’t you glad that I demanded this examination? You’re obviously still in some kind of pain.”

Ischarus continued his macho protest. “Stiffness from the wound that your magic healed, that’s all.” Having removed his leather, he unfastened the metal hooks that held his shirt together around his body. With another wince of pain he had this removed this layer as well.

Charis snorted in amusement and set to examine his injuries. “Well, it may be mostly stiffness, but your wound is still rather raw. I honestly don’t think that it poses any immediate danger, but if we have a trouble free remainder of the day I’ll cast another healing spell on you before retiring for the evening. That should go a fair way towards making the wound insignificant tomorrow.”

When Charis was done examining him, Ischarus quickly donned his shirt and leather once more. He spotted Semeion sitting up the tunnel a few feet, watching over the horses. He slowly walked towards him, leaving Charis and Rhema to watch the tunnel from the direction that they had just come. 

Semeion looked up as he heard Ischarus’ footsteps and spoke. “You’ve honestly got no idea what those things were?”

Ischarus smiled. Semeion had read his mind. “I was actually just about to ask you the same thing, Semeion. In all of your studies you’ve not read of such a beast? They seemed rather magical to me.”

Semeion wrinkled his eyebrows as Ischarus concluded his thought on the possibility of their magical background. He turned his head up the tunnel and stared into the darkness. “Magical? How so? The things never once cast a spell – unless they have learned how to cast spells silently and without even a gesture!”

Ischarus crouched down beside Semeion so that he could lower his volume, although he was not intentionally keeping this discussion from Charis or Rhema. “The creatures didn’t have any eyes at all, Semeion. There must have been some kind of magic behind them to allow them to see. They were difficult opponents as it was. I can’t imagine what they would have been like if they had eyes!”

Semeion rubbed the stubble that had appeared since his last shave back at Rhema’s family villa. “Do me a favor, Ischarus. Sheathe your sword for a moment.”

Ischarus gave Semeion a confused look, but didn’t see any reason not to comply. As soon as the light from his sword was hidden both Semeion and Ischarus heard a shout from down the tunnel.

The shout was from Charis who grew concerned at the loss of light. “Everything alright up there?

Semeion called back in a calm tone. “Couldn’t be better. The light will be back in just a second.” Once he was sure that the women at the other end of their horse pack wouldn’t be yelling anything more, Semeion dragged his fingers slowly across the tunnel floor until he found what he was looking for. His fingers wrapped around a small pebble not more than an inch in diameter. After picking it up and shifting his grip, Semeion threw it hard against the far wall of the tunnel. He could hear Ischarus shift his feet in the direction that he had thrown the rock. 

Semeion smiled as he prepared to continue the lesson. He never considered how far he had come since ceasing to be the pupil under his master. “Ischarus, how did you know to turn the way that you did?”

Ischarus replied without hesitation. “Well, that’s rather easy. I heard a noise against … oh. I see what you did here. So you honestly think that those creatures didn’t have any magical qualities about them, its just that their other senses are so much better tuned than ours?”

Semeion nodded, not realizing that he could not be seen without the light of Ischarus’ sword. “That would be my guess. They might be magical, but if they are I have never heard of such beings. My guess is that they have lived among the darkness of the mountains for so long that their eyes have merely vanished. Why carry around a liability like an eye socket when it serves you no purpose other than to be injured?”

Ischarus thought for a moment at Semeion’s assertion before agreeing. “Interesting. If you are correct, that would explain the thick patch of skin covering the place where their eyes should have been. The skin would help protect the vulnerable spot since it wasn’t needed.”

Semeion continued his thought a bit further. “That would also explain their skin. You and I have color in our skin because we dwell on the surface. Our skin has to be able to change colors as a defense against the sun. I’m sure you’ve noticed that people tan the more they spend time outside in the summer months.”

Ischarus drew his sword, having had enough of the darkness. Talking about not being able to see made him uneasy. This discussion reminded him that in darkness the creature’s ability to not be reliant upon sight actually gave them an advantage. “So if they seldom had contact with the sun – perhaps even never – you are saying that their skin would lose its color and turn that shade of gray?”

Semeion smiled at Ischarus’ mental curiosity. “It is only a guess, Ischarus. But you do show great promise. There may be hope for you as a spell caster yet!”

The pair of men enjoyed a hearty laugh as Ischarus began to talk to Semeion about a few of the spells that Brandt had helped him discover. Neither of the men saw the smiles that appeared on the women as they heard the men laughing together and healing the emotional wound that had been opened before their last encounter. Perhaps there was more sense in stopping to rest and heal than they first thought.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Aug 31, 2006)

Before they were ready to move forward once more, Rhema thought she heard a noise from the direction in which they’d already come.  “Ischarus.”  She called quickly up the tunnel and then replied much more quietly to Charis, “I think there is something coming up the tunnel after us.”

Ischarus quickly rose to his feet, looking back to Semeion and saying, “Stay here and guard this end of the tunnel.  I know that tone from Rhema.  Something has gotten her attention.  I don’t want it to be a diversion and we get blindsided from behind.”

Semeion nodded, realizing that this time through the tunnels this type of scenario had already become a routine for him.  He hoped deep inside that he was more useful to the rest of his friends than just a horse guard.

While Ischarus lightly jogged to the end of the passageway where Rhema and Charis stood, Charis replied to Rhema.  “Well, we have been in this place for a while.  Surely something had an opportunity to catch up to us if it could track us through the tunnels.  But those things just don’t have any eyes!”

Ischarus heard the end of Charis’ comment as he slowed to a quiet walk.  “Semeion was down there teaching me how dependant we are on our ability to see.  We can’t imagine getting through this life without our eyesight because we are so accustomed to it always being on.  Yet, our other senses can be used just as easily with enough training.  It is Semeion’s bet – and I am with him – that these creatures have tremendous touch and hearing.  They may be able to feel vibrations through the rock floor and use them to locate their foes.  They may be quite skilled at using sound to triangulate their positing.”

As if on cue, Rhema held out her hand and listened once Ischarus was done.  She had thought she heard breathing down the tunnel.  Once the tunnel had grown quietly still Ischarus raised his sword above his head for the sake of illumination.  “I heard it too.  Step behind me, Rhema.”

The sound of flesh upon stone echoed down the tunnel towards the trio of adventurers at this end.  After a few seconds of the sound, Charis and Ischarus could both see a familiar imagine pass through the darkness and into the illuminated portion of the tunnel.  It was another gray skinned figure, and this one had brought a friend as well.

Ischarus leapt into battle, tired of feeling hunted by these creatures who needed no light to stalk them.  “I have had enough of your kind!  We are merely passing through these tunnels, leave us alone!”  His anger guided his hands true, and his blade struck the first creature solidly in the shoulder.  His blow knocked the creature back a few steps and Ischarus hoisted his shield high in defense.

The one that Ischarus had struck regained his composure and swung away at Ischarus.  His strike was weak and inaccurate due to the severe blow that Ischarus had just given him.  Ischarus easily used his shield to steer the blow away from hitting him.  

The creature spoke.  It was the first time that any of the creatures had done anything except howl and grunt.  The voice was deep, raspy, and hard to understand.  “You are within our hunting grounds.  All who pass through these tunnels are rightfully ours to claim!”

Charis was surprised to hear the creature speaking in the common tongue that her friends had just taught her only a few months earlier.  She had originally intended on striking against the creature that Ischarus had struck so hard, but the shock from hearing the voice of the gray skinned creature disrupted her motion.  Her swing was mistimed and short.

The other creature approached Charis with caution after watching Ischarus rip into its friend.  As it drew its axe and thought about striking Charis, the primitive handle slipped out of its hand and landed on the floor at its feet.  Charis adopted a defensive position as both of the creatures focused on her for a second.

Rhema shouted from her protected area from behind Ischarus.  “Nobody has the right to injure another person simply because they are passing through!  These tunnels are not marked as your own, you cannot own this!  You gave us no warning of our trespass!”  Rhema yelled from behind Ischarus, equally surprised to hear the creatures speak as Charis was.

Ischarus continued Rhema’s reasoning as he swung his sword.  “We have no quarrel with you.  We have already defeated four of your brethren, but we left them to recover in the tunnels.  We mean you no harm; we simply desire to pass through!”  The blade of his sword caught nothing but air as he swung.

The seriously wounded creature returned Ischarus’ blow awkwardly, missing Ischarus horribly.  It left itself open for an attack and that was all the opportunity Charis needed.  She swung hard with her pick.  She had recovered from the shock of hearing these creatures speak.  The pick landed hard against the creature and drove deep into its flesh.  The force of the blow knocked the creature to the ground.

The other creature howled in anger.  “So this is what you mean by you mean us no harm?  You assault and injure my brothers?”  By this time the creature had retrieved its stone axe from the floor and it struck out at Charis to avenge his kind.  His blow connected hard with Charis’ chest, knocking her back.  Charis found that she was winded and needed a few seconds to recover to catch her breath.  The weight of the stone axe against her chest had almost ended her life in spite of failing to cut her deeply.

Rhema saw Charis stumble backwards and decided to no longer hold back her powers.  In an angry voice she cried out, “Do not do that again!  You attacked us first, we are merely defending ourselves!”

The creature howled in pain as Rhema’s words assaulted its mind.  The creature felt for a minute as if its head were about to explode.  In this moment of uncertainty, Ischarus finished the job.  “This is the last you will see of us, creature!”  Ischarus’ sword plunged deep into the creature’s side.  As Ischarus removed the blade, it fell over onto its side beside its kin.  Rhema looked on in shock as Ischarus released such a violent strike.

“Ischarus!” Rhema shouted.  “You didn’t!”

A smile crept over Charis’ face as she bent down to examine the injured creatures’ injuries.  “No, Rhema, he didn’t.  He almost did, but I can make sure it doesn’t die.”  Her hands quickly went to work by putting pressure where it was needed and making sure the creature didn’t lose any more blood than was necessary.

As she finished up her work and prepared to move to the first one that had fallen she looked to Ischarus and directed him to help.  “I need you to hold this in place for another minute or so.  That was a risky blow, Ischarus.  You almost did kill him.”

Ischarus nodded to Rhema, knowing that his anger had almost gotten the better of him.  “I know.  But you were hit pretty hard, too.  This battle needed to end quickly and I was tired of being hunted by things I didn’t want to fight.”

With Ischarus applying pressure where it was needed, Charis moved over to treat the wounds of the other creature.  This creature’s wounds were not bad, although they would take some time to heal without magic.  Charis stabilized this one as well.  When she was convinced neither of them would die she nodded to Ischarus and Rhema.

Semeion called from the other end of the tunnel.  “I think that’s our cue to move as quickly as we can.  I for one am tired of this route already, and we’ve only been down here less than a day!”

Ischarus motioned for the others to follow and nodded in agreement with Semeion’s words.  It was time to leave.

The rest of the trip through the mountains passed by slowly.  The adventurers didn’t know night from day below the earth, although they were accustomed to this process having each been through the mountain tunnels at least once before.  This route took nearly three times as long to traverse on account of not knowing precisely which direction to head.  Several times Rhema made the wrong decision and the party had to spend hours backtracking after finding a collapsed tunnel or a tunnel that headed in the wrong direction.  After over a week underground, the party finally emerged into Quehalost.  As luck would have it, it was night when they again saw trees.

Knowing that they were on the other side of the mountains and that they would be less likely to be surprised out in the forest as they were underground, Charis expended the rest of her healing spells and headed for bed.  Semeion volunteered to take first watch, letting Ischarus get some much needed sleep.  The horses were loosely tied and allowed to graze or lay down as they saw fit.  As he looked upon his friends and their ease in falling asleep, Semeion spoke softly under his breath.  “Fresh air does wonders for the soul.  One day I’ll learn the teleportation spell Brandt used.  That way we can avoid the dark dangers of the deep mountains.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Before they were ready to move forward once more, Rhema thought she heard a noise from the direction in which they’d already come. “Ischarus.” She called quickly up the tunnel and then replied much more quietly to Charis, “I think there is something coming up the tunnel after us.”

Ischarus quickly rose to his feet, looking back to Semeion and saying, “Stay here and guard this end of the tunnel. I know that tone from Rhema. Something has gotten her attention. I don’t want it to be a diversion and we get blindsided from behind.”

Semeion nodded, realizing that this time through the tunnels this type of scenario had already become a routine for him. He hoped deep inside that he was more useful to the rest of his friends than just a horse guard.

While Ischarus lightly jogged to the end of the passageway where Rhema and Charis stood, Charis replied to Rhema. “Well, we have been in this place for a while. Surely something had an opportunity to catch up to us if it could track us through the tunnels. But those things just don’t have any eyes!”

Ischarus heard the end of Charis’ comment as he slowed to a quiet walk. “Semeion was down there teaching me how dependant we are on our ability to see. We can’t imagine getting through this life without our eyesight because we are so accustomed to it always being on. Yet, our other senses can be used just as easily with enough training. It is Semeion’s bet – and I am with him – that these creatures have tremendous touch and hearing. They may be able to feel vibrations through the rock floor and use them to locate their foes. They may be quite skilled at using sound to triangulate their positing.”

As if on cue, Rhema held out her hand and listened once Ischarus was done. She had thought she heard breathing down the tunnel. Once the tunnel had grown quietly still Ischarus raised his sword above his head for the sake of illumination. “I heard it too. Step behind me, Rhema.”

The sound of flesh upon stone echoed down the tunnel towards the trio of adventurers at this end. After a few seconds of the sound, Charis and Ischarus could both see a familiar imagine pass through the darkness and into the illuminated portion of the tunnel. It was another gray skinned figure, and this one had brought a friend as well.

Ischarus leapt into battle, tired of feeling hunted by these creatures who needed no light to stalk them. “I have had enough of your kind! We are merely passing through these tunnels, leave us alone!” His anger guided his hands true, and his blade struck the first creature solidly in the shoulder. His blow knocked the creature back a few steps and Ischarus hoisted his shield high in defense.

The one that Ischarus had struck regained his composure and swung away at Ischarus. His strike was weak and inaccurate due to the severe blow that Ischarus had just given him. Ischarus easily used his shield to steer the blow away from hitting him. 

The creature spoke. It was the first time that any of the creatures had done anything except howl and grunt. The voice was deep, raspy, and hard to understand. “You are within our hunting grounds. All who pass through these tunnels are rightfully ours to claim!”

Charis was surprised to hear the creature speaking in the common tongue that her friends had just taught her only a few months earlier. She had originally intended on striking against the creature that Ischarus had struck so hard, but the shock from hearing the voice of the gray skinned creature disrupted her motion. Her swing was mistimed and short.

The other creature approached Charis with caution after watching Ischarus rip into its friend. As it drew its axe and thought about striking Charis, the primitive handle slipped out of its hand and landed on the floor at its feet. Charis adopted a defensive position as both of the creatures focused on her for a second.

Rhema shouted from her protected area from behind Ischarus. “Nobody has the right to injure another person simply because they are passing through! These tunnels are not marked as your own, you cannot own this! You gave us no warning of our trespass!” Rhema yelled from behind Ischarus, equally surprised to hear the creatures speak as Charis was.

Ischarus continued Rhema’s reasoning as he swung his sword. “We have no quarrel with you. We have already defeated four of your brethren, but we left them to recover in the tunnels. We mean you no harm; we simply desire to pass through!” The blade of his sword caught nothing but air as he swung.

The seriously wounded creature returned Ischarus’ blow awkwardly, missing Ischarus horribly. It left itself open for an attack and that was all the opportunity Charis needed. She swung hard with her pick. She had recovered from the shock of hearing these creatures speak. The pick landed hard against the creature and drove deep into its flesh. The force of the blow knocked the creature to the ground.

The other creature howled in anger. “So this is what you mean by you mean us no harm? You assault and injure my brothers?” By this time the creature had retrieved its stone axe from the floor and it struck out at Charis to avenge his kind. His blow connected hard with Charis’ chest, knocking her back. Charis found that she was winded and needed a few seconds to recover to catch her breath. The weight of the stone axe against her chest had almost ended her life in spite of failing to cut her deeply.

Rhema saw Charis stumble backwards and decided to no longer hold back her powers. In an angry voice she cried out, “Do not do that again! You attacked us first, we are merely defending ourselves!”

The creature howled in pain as Rhema’s words assaulted its mind. The creature felt for a minute as if its head were about to explode. In this moment of uncertainty, Ischarus finished the job. “This is the last you will see of us, creature!” Ischarus’ sword plunged deep into the creature’s side. As Ischarus removed the blade, it fell over onto its side beside its kin. Rhema looked on in shock as Ischarus released such a violent strike.

“Ischarus!” Rhema shouted. “You didn’t!”

A smile crept over Charis’ face as she bent down to examine the injured creatures’ injuries. “No, Rhema, he didn’t. He almost did, but I can make sure it doesn’t die.” Her hands quickly went to work by putting pressure where it was needed and making sure the creature didn’t lose any more blood than was necessary.

As she finished up her work and prepared to move to the first one that had fallen she looked to Ischarus and directed him to help. “I need you to hold this in place for another minute or so. That was a risky blow, Ischarus. You almost did kill him.”

Ischarus nodded to Rhema, knowing that his anger had almost gotten the better of him. “I know. But you were hit pretty hard, too. This battle needed to end quickly and I was tired of being hunted by things I didn’t want to fight.”

With Ischarus applying pressure where it was needed, Charis moved over to treat the wounds of the other creature. This creature’s wounds were not bad, although they would take some time to heal without magic. Charis stabilized this one as well. When she was convinced neither of them would die she nodded to Ischarus and Rhema.

Semeion called from the other end of the tunnel. “I think that’s our cue to move as quickly as we can. I for one am tired of this route already, and we’ve only been down here less than a day!”

Ischarus motioned for the others to follow and nodded in agreement with Semeion’s words. It was time to leave.

The rest of the trip through the mountains passed by slowly. The adventurers didn’t know night from day below the earth, although they were accustomed to this process having each been through the mountain tunnels at least once before. This route took nearly three times as long to traverse on account of not knowing precisely which direction to head. Several times Rhema made the wrong decision and the party had to spend hours backtracking after finding a collapsed tunnel or a tunnel that headed in the wrong direction. After over a week underground, the party finally emerged into Quehalost. As luck would have it, it was night when they again saw trees.

Knowing that they were on the other side of the mountains and that they would be less likely to be surprised out in the forest as they were underground, Charis expended the rest of her healing spells and headed for bed. Semeion volunteered to take first watch, letting Ischarus get some much needed sleep. The horses were loosely tied and allowed to graze or lay down as they saw fit. As he looked upon his friends and their ease in falling asleep, Semeion spoke softly under his breath. “Fresh air does wonders for the soul. One day I’ll learn the teleportation spell Brandt used. That way we can avoid the dark dangers of the deep mountains.”[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 2, 2006)

*Chapter Nine: A NOVEL ROUTE*

The night shifts for the watch and the following sunrise came without any effort on the party’s behalf.  Semeion had long since studied his magic and fell asleep mid-meditation once his shift was over.  Rhema’s turn had come and gone.  Charis had awoken to Rhema asking to be relieved.  In turn Charis woke Ischarus for the final shift.  Ischarus had the pleasure of watching the first sunrise for this trip into such a dangerous land.  He had found a cozy spot sitting in a low branch about ten feet above the ground when he first saw the golden rays trying to break through the foliage above him.

Before Ischarus could truly enjoy the sight he jerked his head around to where the party slept.  Suddenly he was overcome with a feeling as though they were not alone.  His eyes focused first to the place where Rhema slept.  She was laying and resting easy on the ground.  Her chest rose and fell slowly in her typical pattern of uninterrupted sleep.  

Ischarus looked next to Semeion.  He knew that Semeion was far more fragile that Charis.  Semeion slept with his mouth gapping open, but at least he was not snoring.  Ischarus glanced to Charis last.  He hoped to find that she was also sleeping soundly in spite of his feeling of not being alone.  Ischarus was not disappointed.  Charis slept on her left side.  He could tell that she slept nervously even if she was unconscious.  Charis’ right hand gripped the joint on her pick where the handle met the pointed crosspiece.

A sudden snap of some small twig alerted Ischarus to his right.  His eyes peered through the lower branches of the trees and focused on the ground but he could see no movement.  He peered hard in the area where he was certain the sound had come from.  In spite of his best efforts to carefully examine the area he was unable to locate any sign of movement.  Perhaps even worse, he had a nagging feeling that they still weren’t alone.  He was sure there was someone watching him from in the midst of the party.  It was only a feeling, however.  He could find no physical reason to believe his superstitions.

Knowing that the sun was up and the party could begin to move to the west and follow the mountains back to the area that the red dragon controlled, Ischarus slid out of the tree and landed hard on his feet.  Rhema and Charis immediately woke up from the sound and the vibration through the ground.  Rhema looked up towards the noise but remained calm.  Charis, on the other hand, stood quickly and let her grip loosen on her pick until the handle comfortably fell into place within her fingertips.  Her head snapped around and she exhaled heavily as she noticed Ischarus recovering from the jump from the tree.

Ischarus looked in Charis’ direction when he noticed her hand grip the handle of her pick.  “Shhh!”  He cast Rhema and Charis a serious glance and balanced without making any more noise.  The forest around them was quiet, especially after the sudden movement of Ischarus jumping out of the tree.  After a few minutes of standing in silence and straining his ears, Ischarus figured that he had better offer up some kind of explanation to his friends.  “I didn’t see anything, but I swear that when I was sitting up in that tree I felt like there was someone standing in the middle of our camp looking up at me.”

Charis relaxed her pose and Rhema decided to stand up and prepare herself for their upcoming journey through the dangerous land.  As Rhema stood and begin packing, the movement was close enough to Semeion to finally cause him to wake.  He spoke as he was startled awake.  “Huh?  Oh, morning already.” 

Charis snickered as she realized that he was clueless about what had transpired before he woke up.  Charis continued the conversation where Ischarus had left off.  “Just a feeling, then?”

Ischarus nodded.  “Yeah.  It was nothing more than a subtle nervousness, really.  I just felt like I was being watched.  At first it didn’t necessarily bother me and I didn’t get scared or anything.  But the more I sat here and felt the presence the more it started to get under my skin.  Even now, I just don’t feel right.”

Rhema smiled at Ischarus as she finished rolling up her mat.  “You’re just creped out, Ischarus.  It’s your first morning in Quehalost and you’re being overprotective.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful.  I’m not trying to demean you or your instincts.  You and I both know you’d rather emerge out of the tunnels at daylight so you can put some distance between the tunnels and yourself.  You’d rather scout out the area before we are going to set up camp.”

Ischarus still wasn’t all that convinced that is was simply his nerves.  However, he still nodded and relaxed his position.  Charis added to Rhema’s reasoning to try and help Ischarus relax.  “Besides, Ischarus, we’re all awake now.  We’ve got eight eyes, eight ears, four noses, and a plethora of weapons against any threat we might perceive.  We’ll stay alert as we walk.”

Semeion finished tucking his traveling magic book into a pouch and like Rhema finished rolling up his mat.  He had been the quietest party member so far this morning, but he was also aware that invisible opponents happened to exist in the world.  In truth, many of them were also quite aggressive.  Master Sathwright had begun to teach him in those areas and he took them seriously.  As he rolled up his mat and attached it to Thana’s saddle he watched the ground for footprints that didn’t seem to belong to anyone in particular.  His eyes were watchful, but even he didn’t perceive anything in particular.

The rest of the party followed Semeion’s work and before too long the few remaining embers from the previous night’s fire were scattered so as to hide any trace of their being present in Quehalost.  Leaves were scattered over the area and a few broken branches were brought in to makes the spot look naturally undisturbed.  Once Ischarus was content that there would be little means of following them the party set off.  Of course the horse hoof prints would be easily enough followed, but they were also much more likely to occur than an organized fire pit.  

The party slowly picked their way through the forest and kept the mountains on their right.  Ischarus was careful to avoid any signs of civilization, including roads and blazed trails.  Surely anyone that would be met on the roads or a path would only delay their quest.  The denizens of Quehalost were not known for being particularly friendly regarding intruders.

The foursome picked their way along the edge of the mountains for several horses before Ischarus signaled for the group to stop.  He glanced backwards over his left shoulder and made eye contact with Rhema.  She knew that look well as Ischarus had used that same glance several times in their adventures.  In response to Ischarus’ look she spurred Shauvry ahead of Elistra several paces and kept a stern watch as Ischarus slid out of his saddle.

Semeion and Charis approached Ischarus’ position, careful to not draw too close and potentially ruin what had caught Ischarus’ attention.  Charis approached closer than Semeion, allowing Semeion to remain behind to keep watch along the party’s rear.  As she approached Ischarus, Charis spoke softly.  “What caught your attention, Ischarus?”

Ischarus looked up.  He had clearly been staring at a small pile of discarded meat beside a couple of well defined footprints.  “Goblins, Charis.  Little ones I think.”  His eyes darted to a small mount of crushed grass.  “And apparently there were big ones, too.  It hasn’t been long since they’ve been through here, either.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Chapter Nine: A NOVEL ROUTE

The night shifts for the watch and the following sunrise came without any effort on the party’s behalf. Semeion had long since studied his magic and fell asleep mid-meditation once his shift was over. Rhema’s turn had come and gone. Charis had awoken to Rhema asking to be relieved. In turn Charis woke Ischarus for the final shift. Ischarus had the pleasure of watching the first sunrise for this trip into such a dangerous land. He had found a cozy spot sitting in a low branch about ten feet above the ground when he first saw the golden rays trying to break through the foliage above him.

Before Ischarus could truly enjoy the sight he jerked his head around to where the party slept. Suddenly he was overcome with a feeling as though they were not alone. His eyes focused first to the place where Rhema slept. She was laying and resting easy on the ground. Her chest rose and fell slowly in her typical pattern of uninterrupted sleep. 

Ischarus looked next to Semeion. He knew that Semeion was far more fragile that Charis. Semeion slept with his mouth gapping open, but at least he was not snoring. Ischarus glanced to Charis last. He hoped to find that she was also sleeping soundly in spite of his feeling of not being alone. Ischarus was not disappointed. Charis slept on her left side. He could tell that she slept nervously even if she was unconscious. Charis’ right hand gripped the joint on her pick where the handle met the pointed crosspiece.

A sudden snap of some small twig alerted Ischarus to his right. His eyes peered through the lower branches of the trees and focused on the ground but he could see no movement. He peered hard in the area where he was certain the sound had come from. In spite of his best efforts to carefully examine the area he was unable to locate any sign of movement. Perhaps even worse, he had a nagging feeling that they still weren’t alone. He was sure there was someone watching him from in the midst of the party. It was only a feeling, however. He could find no physical reason to believe his superstitions.

Knowing that the sun was up and the party could begin to move to the west and follow the mountains back to the area that the red dragon controlled, Ischarus slid out of the tree and landed hard on his feet. Rhema and Charis immediately woke up from the sound and the vibration through the ground. Rhema looked up towards the noise but remained calm. Charis, on the other hand, stood quickly and let her grip loosen on her pick until the handle comfortably fell into place within her fingertips. Her head snapped around and she exhaled heavily as she noticed Ischarus recovering from the jump from the tree.

Ischarus looked in Charis’ direction when he noticed her hand grip the handle of her pick. “Shhh!” He cast Rhema and Charis a serious glance and balanced without making any more noise. The forest around them was quiet, especially after the sudden movement of Ischarus jumping out of the tree. After a few minutes of standing in silence and straining his ears, Ischarus figured that he had better offer up some kind of explanation to his friends. “I didn’t see anything, but I swear that when I was sitting up in that tree I felt like there was someone standing in the middle of our camp looking up at me.”

Charis relaxed her pose and Rhema decided to stand up and prepare herself for their upcoming journey through the dangerous land. As Rhema stood and begin packing, the movement was close enough to Semeion to finally cause him to wake. He spoke as he was startled awake. “Huh? Oh, morning already.” 

Charis snickered as she realized that he was clueless about what had transpired before he woke up. Charis continued the conversation where Ischarus had left off. “Just a feeling, then?”

Ischarus nodded. “Yeah. It was nothing more than a subtle nervousness, really. I just felt like I was being watched. At first it didn’t necessarily bother me and I didn’t get scared or anything. But the more I sat here and felt the presence the more it started to get under my skin. Even now, I just don’t feel right.”

Rhema smiled at Ischarus as she finished rolling up her mat. “You’re just creped out, Ischarus. It’s your first morning in Quehalost and you’re being overprotective. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. I’m not trying to demean you or your instincts. You and I both know you’d rather emerge out of the tunnels at daylight so you can put some distance between the tunnels and yourself. You’d rather scout out the area before we are going to set up camp.”

Ischarus still wasn’t all that convinced that is was simply his nerves. However, he still nodded and relaxed his position. Charis added to Rhema’s reasoning to try and help Ischarus relax. “Besides, Ischarus, we’re all awake now. We’ve got eight eyes, eight ears, four noses, and a plethora of weapons against any threat we might perceive. We’ll stay alert as we walk.”

Semeion finished tucking his traveling magic book into a pouch and like Rhema finished rolling up his mat. He had been the quietest party member so far this morning, but he was also aware that invisible opponents happened to exist in the world. In truth, many of them were also quite aggressive. Master Sathwright had begun to teach him in those areas and he took them seriously. As he rolled up his mat and attached it to Thana’s saddle he watched the ground for footprints that didn’t seem to belong to anyone in particular. His eyes were watchful, but even he didn’t perceive anything in particular.

The rest of the party followed Semeion’s work and before too long the few remaining embers from the previous night’s fire were scattered so as to hide any trace of their being present in Quehalost. Leaves were scattered over the area and a few broken branches were brought in to makes the spot look naturally undisturbed. Once Ischarus was content that there would be little means of following them the party set off. Of course the horse hoof prints would be easily enough followed, but they were also much more likely to occur than an organized fire pit. 

The party slowly picked their way through the forest and kept the mountains on their right. Ischarus was careful to avoid any signs of civilization, including roads and blazed trails. Surely anyone that would be met on the roads or a path would only delay their quest. The denizens of Quehalost were not known for being particularly friendly regarding intruders.

The foursome picked their way along the edge of the mountains for several horses before Ischarus signaled for the group to stop. He glanced backwards over his left shoulder and made eye contact with Rhema. She knew that look well as Ischarus had used that same glance several times in their adventures. In response to Ischarus’ look she spurred Shauvry ahead of Elistra several paces and kept a stern watch as Ischarus slid out of his saddle.

Semeion and Charis approached Ischarus’ position, careful to not draw too close and potentially ruin what had caught Ischarus’ attention. Charis approached closer than Semeion, allowing Semeion to remain behind to keep watch along the party’s rear. As she approached Ischarus, Charis spoke softly. “What caught your attention, Ischarus?”

Ischarus looked up. He had clearly been staring at a small pile of discarded meat beside a couple of well defined footprints. “Goblins, Charis. Little ones I think.” His eyes darted to a small mount of crushed grass. “And apparently there were big ones, too. It hasn’t been long since they’ve been through here, either.”[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 2, 2006)

Charis’ face nearly leapt with glee.  It was an opposite reaction than Ischarus had expected.  She kept her voice well under control in spite of her obvious excitement to the news.  “Goblins?  That’s great!”

Ischarus smiled, unsure of how to truly take Charis’ response.  His eyes darted back and forth to Rhema and Semeion, but they were both on horseback and far enough away to not pay attention to the conversation.  “Great?  What exactly do you mean by that, Charis?  I know that you know more about Quehalost than I do, but great?”

Charis laughed out loud.  Perhaps she had laughed a bit louder than she should have.  Semeion turned his head around to see what had caused the reaction.  Somehow he hadn’t expected her to laugh given the seriousness that Ischarus had the last time he looked in their direction.  Ischarus waved his look off and with a motion of his hands Ischarus instructed Semeion to continue to watch their path from behind.

Charis slipped the head of her pick into its leather covering and fastened the end of it back onto her belt.  As she looked up, she brushed her long black hair out of her eyes.  With the morning sun filtering through the trees, Ischarus noticed that her red highlights showed up strongly against the dark hair beneath it.  Her hair solidly betrayed her heritage on this day. In truth, that was one reason he had decided to keep his hair short.  

As Ischarus was noticing her hair she responded to his earlier question.  “I say great because of two reasons.  First, you could have found fresh dragon tracks, or demon tracks, or any other score of horrible tracks you could find.  But instead you found goblin tracks.  Goblins are far less scary than some of the other evils found in Quehalost!”

Ischarus couldn’t help break a smile at Charis’ logic.  If nothing else her logic was sound.  Goblins were a better choice than a huge wyrm of some kind or evil creature released from the hells of other worlds.  Since her first reason inspired him so much, he couldn’t wait to hear about the second reason that goblins were a great find.

Charis continued, “Besides, I have a vague recollection of a goblin tribe that lived a fair bit east of my father dragon’s land.  Sure, the goblin tribe wasn’t exactly right next door.  But it does mean that we can’t be terribly far.  A few days journey, perhaps.”

Ischarus was pleased to hear that Charis was able to relate to her surroundings.  Since none of them had ever approached Quehalost from the direction from which they had just traveled, it was good to hear that they were reasonably on the right path.  At least they were headed in the right direction.  His mind couldn’t help counter Charis’ excitement, however.  “A few days walk through the territory of a great red wyrm and a smattering of goblins, however.”

Charis laughed again, and a huge smile crossed her face.  This laugh was enough to signal to Rhema and Semeion that it was nearly time to go and they could come back from their posts as sentries.  As they slowly walked their horses in towards Charis and Ischarus they could hear Charis’ reply to Ischarus.  “That’s my great red wyrm, remember!  It isn’t like we are sneaking up on some unknown dragon.  I know that dragon intimately.”

Rhema couldn’t help but speak as she heard the talk about the red wyrm.  “You’ve found Dragon tracks, Ischarus?  Are we that close already?”  Rhema’s voice embodied much of the excitement growing within her chest upon hearing the talk about dragons.  

Ischarus couldn’t also help but laugh at Rhema’s conclusion.  This conversation was not at all what he imagined it would be.  It was supposed to be a serious warning to be cautious about goblins.  From a perspective of seriousness it was headed downhill fast.  Yet in the greater scheme of things the conversation didn’t seem to matter like it would have on earlier trips.  It was good to laugh inside Quehalost.  As Ischarus smiled, he replied to Rhema’s incorrect assertion.  “No, Rhema.  Not dragon tracks.  Goblin tracks.”

Semeion raised a tone of alarm.  “Goblin tracks!  I thought that’s what I heard Charis speaking about earlier.”

Charis took the opportunity to calm down Semeion with the same observation that she had used on Ischarus.  “Well, better to find fresh goblin tracks than fresh dragon tracks, right?”

Now Semeion knew why Ischarus had been laughing.  Charis had struck again.  The foursome broke into another round of laughter at Charis’ statement and enjoyed the laugh in the middle of Quehalost.  The sun was warming the air and at this moment there was a peace about the land in a very small section of Quehalost.  Even the trees seemed to enjoy the light-hearted moment as their branches swayed in the subtle wind.

Suddenly Ischarus raised his sword up from the ground where he had laid it when he checked the tracks.  He slowly began turning around.  Carefully he raised his sword to his chest level and extended it away from himself and the party.  His eyes squinted through the neighboring foliage, but they could make nothing out.

Rhema questioned the action of Ischarus.  “Another feeling, Ischarus?”

Ischarus nodded slowly, still examining the woods round them.  “Yeah.  Right then, when we all came together and laughed.  I felt as though we were being watched once more.  It was as if someone was participating in the laugh with us.”

The rest of the party turned their horses around and twisted in their saddles to peer through the leaves.  Rhema confessed that she wasn’t in tune with Ischarus as she scanned the woods.  “I’ve got to admit that I didn’t feel anything.”

Semeion concurred, but mitigated as well.  “I didn’t feel anything, either.  But we just found fresh goblin tracks.  You never know what could be out there.”

Ischarus let out a low growl as he kept his sword pointed towards the forest.  “I know that something is out there, I just can’t see it.  But I can feel it looking deep within us, almost as if …”  His voice trailed off into silence. 

He had left room for Charis to finish his sentence for him.  “Almost as if it can search our souls, right?  I feel it now, too.  I can feel the presence as if it were able to look deep inside.  I agree, Ischarus, something is out there.”

Semeion didn’t like where this was going at all.  Only a moment ago the conversation had been light-hearted.  Now it was deathly serious in nature.  Of course it had started with Ischarus, but then Charis was affected.  It was one thing to have knowledge of invisible assailants; but nothing that he was aware of could search one’s soul.  Nothing that he was aware of could even try hard enough to give such a feeling to the one being observed.  His logical training kicked himself into a defensive posture.  “Come on, guys.  The more we allow ourselves to succumb to the paranoia the more and more we’re going to feel it spread.  It’s just a feeling, and we’re all probably still tired from our journey through the tunnels.  We’re in Quehalost and we just found fresh goblin tracks.  We’re bound to be a bit jumpy.”

Rhema found wisdom in Semeion’s caution since she was unable to feel anything remotely close to what Ischarus and Charis had described.  “Yeah, I agree.  Let’s forget chasing shadows and feelings.  This is Quehalost.  Things aren’t going to be right in this place anyway.  We could chase feelings and shadows forever and never accomplish anything.  We’ve got a significant task at hand.  We’ve got to save Charis’ people from the dragon.”

A warm breeze of air blew through the party and rustled the leaves on the trees that surrounded them.  Rhema stopped her speech short.  Ischarus’ and Charis’ breathing grew shallow as they focused on listening and peering through the trees in the direction that the wind had come.

Semeion sighed at the unfortunate luck of the warm air blowing at precisely the wrong moment.  Rhema and Semeion had almost convinced Ischarus and Charis to forget their paranoia.  “Rhema is right, guys.  Let’s plan to move forward.  Charis’ people are at stake.  But the first thing that we’ve got to figure out is what to do about these goblins.  Surely we want to avoid them, right?”

Ischarus snapped back to reality.  Semeion’s words convinced his mind to force the feelings of being watched to subside.  “Right.  The last thing that we need to add to our plate right now is taking on a goblin tribe.”

Another warm breeze of air rustled through the party as soon as Ischarus finished speaking.  Semeion grew frustrated at their luck.  “Of all the stupid times for the air to warm up in the sunlight!”  He sighed in exasperation as he saw that the breeze of air drew Ischarus’ attention back into the woods.  However, after a few seconds both Ischarus and Charis had turned around and focused on the task ahead.  The party needed to get to Charis’ village and leave the goblins behind.

Ischarus began to talk strategy.  “Now, if we can take the direction of the tracks to imply a general direction of their tribal village at one end or another, these tracks are going in the same general direction that we are headed.  But if we bend our path a bit more towards the mountains we might be able to slip between their destination and the edge of the mountains.”

Charis replied quickly.  She knew that goblins were not the most logical creatures in the world.  “That is assuming that goblins walk in straight lines to where they want to go.”

Ischarus smiled at Charis’ point.  “Well, yes.  But if we are going to get anywhere we do have to make some assumptions somewhere.”

Semeion piped in his opinion.  He was pleased that they were now headed in the right direction with this conversation.  “I agree.  If we head more towards the mountains we’ll be less likely to run into trouble.  Rhema, do you have any thoughts?”

Rhema nodded.  “It sounds like as good of a plan as any.  Ischarus, are you still leading the way?”

Ischarus nodded and lifted himself into Elistra’s saddle.  Once he was settled and his gear was aligned for riding properly, he turned Elistra in the general direction that he wanted to head.  He guided Elistra past Abijou and then between Thana and Shauvry.  

Once he was clear and all alone, a strong head wind picked up out of nowhere.  The wind was so strong that Elistra could make no headway and Ischarus had to tuck his head and close his eyes tightly to avoid the sting of the breeze.  With his hands on the reigns he gently gave Elistra the command to retreat and step backwards.  The wind ceased immediately.  The rest of the party had only mildly felt the effects of the unusual current of air.  Yet there was no denying what had just happened to Ischarus.  They had seen the wind blast Ischarus and create mayhem with Elistra’s mane.

Semeion’s mind raced as he tried to come up with any kind of explanation.  “Try it again, Ischarus.”  He was no longer speaking out of frustration, however.  His curiosity was now tapped by the strange gusts of wind.  No longer could he explain the happenings as chance.  Now they were clearly the result of some outside force.  Semeion mumbled to himself as his mind continued to think.  “At least so far it’s been benign.”

Ischarus turned Elistra back along the route that he wanted to go and as he encouraged her forward the strong gale picked up again.  Once again the wind hardly affected anyone else in the party except Ischarus.  Having enough of the wind, Ischarus pulled Elistra back and the gale wind ceased to blow.

Charis’ mind was also searching for an explanation.  “Here, let me try.”  Charis lead Abijou in the direction that Ischarus had tried to move and she was likewise met with the same resistance of wind.  After a few seconds in the wind she and Abijou had both had enough.  It was clear that the horses were beginning to become spooked.

Rhema’s mind was trying to figure out what was going on.  “I hope that we have not willingly fallen into some kind of trap.  The goblin prints we found here were kind of obvious.  Maybe the design was to get us to stop so that the trap could be properly set up.”

Semeion shook his head from side to side.  His mind was coming to a conclusion as he searched the magic around them.  “Wait.  The earlier gusts of wind only happened when we spoke of our mission.  The first one came when we mentioned freeing Charis’ people.  The second one happened when we mentioned avoiding the goblins.  It was when we acted on trying to avoid the goblins when we met the greatest resistance.  Ischarus, follow the path made by the tracks slowly.  If you can make it, keep going.  We’ll fall in line behind you.

Ischarus used the reigns to turn Elistra in the direction that the tracks had been heading.  By this point, there had been enough horse traffic over the prints that they were difficult to see.  However, Ischarus was pretty sure that he was headed in the right direction.  As Elistra stepped forward, she was met with no resistance.  The party stepped forward one by one in line with Ischarus and slowly followed the goblin tracks.  The pleasurable moment of laughter that they had enjoyed only a few minutes ago was past.  For some reason, the elements of Quehalost had seemingly decided to get revenge on their laughter by forcing them into conflict with the goblins.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Charis’ face nearly leapt with glee. It was an opposite reaction than Ischarus had expected. She kept her voice well under control in spite of her obvious excitement to the news. “Goblins? That’s great!”

Ischarus smiled, unsure of how to truly take Charis’ response. His eyes darted back and forth to Rhema and Semeion, but they were both on horseback and far enough away to not pay attention to the conversation. “Great? What exactly do you mean by that, Charis? I know that you know more about Quehalost than I do, but great?”

Charis laughed out loud. Perhaps she had laughed a bit louder than she should have. Semeion turned his head around to see what had caused the reaction. Somehow he hadn’t expected her to laugh given the seriousness that Ischarus had the last time he looked in their direction. Ischarus waved his look off and with a motion of his hands Ischarus instructed Semeion to continue to watch their path from behind.

Charis slipped the head of her pick into its leather covering and fastened the end of it back onto her belt. As she looked up, she brushed her long black hair out of her eyes. With the morning sun filtering through the trees, Ischarus noticed that her red highlights showed up strongly against the dark hair beneath it. Her hair solidly betrayed her heritage on this day. In truth, that was one reason he had decided to keep his hair short. 

As Ischarus was noticing her hair she responded to his earlier question. “I say great because of two reasons. First, you could have found fresh dragon tracks, or demon tracks, or any other score of horrible tracks you could find. But instead you found goblin tracks. Goblins are far less scary than some of the other evils found in Quehalost!”

Ischarus couldn’t help break a smile at Charis’ logic. If nothing else her logic was sound. Goblins were a better choice than a huge wyrm of some kind or evil creature released from the hells of other worlds. Since her first reason inspired him so much, he couldn’t wait to hear about the second reason that goblins were a great find.

Charis continued, “Besides, I have a vague recollection of a goblin tribe that lived a fair bit east of my father dragon’s land. Sure, the goblin tribe wasn’t exactly right next door. But it does mean that we can’t be terribly far. A few days journey, perhaps.”

Ischarus was pleased to hear that Charis was able to relate to her surroundings. Since none of them had ever approached Quehalost from the direction from which they had just traveled, it was good to hear that they were reasonably on the right path. At least they were headed in the right direction. His mind couldn’t help counter Charis’ excitement, however. “A few days walk through the territory of a great red wyrm and a smattering of goblins, however.”

Charis laughed again, and a huge smile crossed her face. This laugh was enough to signal to Rhema and Semeion that it was nearly time to go and they could come back from their posts as sentries. As they slowly walked their horses in towards Charis and Ischarus they could hear Charis’ reply to Ischarus. “That’s my great red wyrm, remember! It isn’t like we are sneaking up on some unknown dragon. I know that dragon intimately.”

Rhema couldn’t help but speak as she heard the talk about the red wyrm. “You’ve found Dragon tracks, Ischarus? Are we that close already?” Rhema’s voice embodied much of the excitement growing within her chest upon hearing the talk about dragons. 

Ischarus couldn’t also help but laugh at Rhema’s conclusion. This conversation was not at all what he imagined it would be. It was supposed to be a serious warning to be cautious about goblins. From a perspective of seriousness it was headed downhill fast. Yet in the greater scheme of things the conversation didn’t seem to matter like it would have on earlier trips. It was good to laugh inside Quehalost. As Ischarus smiled, he replied to Rhema’s incorrect assertion. “No, Rhema. Not dragon tracks. Goblin tracks.”

Semeion raised a tone of alarm. “Goblin tracks! I thought that’s what I heard Charis speaking about earlier.”

Charis took the opportunity to calm down Semeion with the same observation that she had used on Ischarus. “Well, better to find fresh goblin tracks than fresh dragon tracks, right?”

Now Semeion knew why Ischarus had been laughing. Charis had struck again. The foursome broke into another round of laughter at Charis’ statement and enjoyed the laugh in the middle of Quehalost. The sun was warming the air and at this moment there was a peace about the land in a very small section of Quehalost. Even the trees seemed to enjoy the light-hearted moment as their branches swayed in the subtle wind.

Suddenly Ischarus raised his sword up from the ground where he had laid it when he checked the tracks. He slowly began turning around. Carefully he raised his sword to his chest level and extended it away from himself and the party. His eyes squinted through the neighboring foliage, but they could make nothing out.

Rhema questioned the action of Ischarus. “Another feeling, Ischarus?”

Ischarus nodded slowly, still examining the woods round them. “Yeah. Right then, when we all came together and laughed. I felt as though we were being watched once more. It was as if someone was participating in the laugh with us.”

The rest of the party turned their horses around and twisted in their saddles to peer through the leaves. Rhema confessed that she wasn’t in tune with Ischarus as she scanned the woods. “I’ve got to admit that I didn’t feel anything.”

Semeion concurred, but mitigated as well. “I didn’t feel anything, either. But we just found fresh goblin tracks. You never know what could be out there.”

Ischarus let out a low growl as he kept his sword pointed towards the forest. “I know that something is out there, I just can’t see it. But I can feel it looking deep within us, almost as if …” His voice trailed off into silence. 

He had left room for Charis to finish his sentence for him. “Almost as if it can search our souls, right? I feel it now, too. I can feel the presence as if it were able to look deep inside. I agree, Ischarus, something is out there.”

Semeion didn’t like where this was going at all. Only a moment ago the conversation had been light-hearted. Now it was deathly serious in nature. Of course it had started with Ischarus, but then Charis was affected. It was one thing to have knowledge of invisible assailants; but nothing that he was aware of could search one’s soul. Nothing that he was aware of could even try hard enough to give such a feeling to the one being observed. His logical training kicked himself into a defensive posture. “Come on, guys. The more we allow ourselves to succumb to the paranoia the more and more we’re going to feel it spread. It’s just a feeling, and we’re all probably still tired from our journey through the tunnels. We’re in Quehalost and we just found fresh goblin tracks. We’re bound to be a bit jumpy.”

Rhema found wisdom in Semeion’s caution since she was unable to feel anything remotely close to what Ischarus and Charis had described. “Yeah, I agree. Let’s forget chasing shadows and feelings. This is Quehalost. Things aren’t going to be right in this place anyway. We could chase feelings and shadows forever and never accomplish anything. We’ve got a significant task at hand. We’ve got to save Charis’ people from the dragon.”

A warm breeze of air blew through the party and rustled the leaves on the trees that surrounded them. Rhema stopped her speech short. Ischarus’ and Charis’ breathing grew shallow as they focused on listening and peering through the trees in the direction that the wind had come.

Semeion sighed at the unfortunate luck of the warm air blowing at precisely the wrong moment. Rhema and Semeion had almost convinced Ischarus and Charis to forget their paranoia. “Rhema is right, guys. Let’s plan to move forward. Charis’ people are at stake. But the first thing that we’ve got to figure out is what to do about these goblins. Surely we want to avoid them, right?”

Ischarus snapped back to reality. Semeion’s words convinced his mind to force the feelings of being watched to subside. “Right. The last thing that we need to add to our plate right now is taking on a goblin tribe.”

Another warm breeze of air rustled through the party as soon as Ischarus finished speaking. Semeion grew frustrated at their luck. “Of all the stupid times for the air to warm up in the sunlight!” He sighed in exasperation as he saw that the breeze of air drew Ischarus’ attention back into the woods. However, after a few seconds both Ischarus and Charis had turned around and focused on the task ahead. The party needed to get to Charis’ village and leave the goblins behind.

Ischarus began to talk strategy. “Now, if we can take the direction of the tracks to imply a general direction of their tribal village at one end or another, these tracks are going in the same general direction that we are headed. But if we bend our path a bit more towards the mountains we might be able to slip between their destination and the edge of the mountains.”

Charis replied quickly. She knew that goblins were not the most logical creatures in the world. “That is assuming that goblins walk in straight lines to where they want to go.”

Ischarus smiled at Charis’ point. “Well, yes. But if we are going to get anywhere we do have to make some assumptions somewhere.”

Semeion piped in his opinion. He was pleased that they were now headed in the right direction with this conversation. “I agree. If we head more towards the mountains we’ll be less likely to run into trouble. Rhema, do you have any thoughts?”

Rhema nodded. “It sounds like as good of a plan as any. Ischarus, are you still leading the way?”

Ischarus nodded and lifted himself into Elistra’s saddle. Once he was settled and his gear was aligned for riding properly, he turned Elistra in the general direction that he wanted to head. He guided Elistra past Abijou and then between Thana and Shauvry. 

Once he was clear and all alone, a strong head wind picked up out of nowhere. The wind was so strong that Elistra could make no headway and Ischarus had to tuck his head and close his eyes tightly to avoid the sting of the breeze. With his hands on the reigns he gently gave Elistra the command to retreat and step backwards. The wind ceased immediately. The rest of the party had only mildly felt the effects of the unusual current of air. Yet there was no denying what had just happened to Ischarus. They had seen the wind blast Ischarus and create mayhem with Elistra’s mane.

Semeion’s mind raced as he tried to come up with any kind of explanation. “Try it again, Ischarus.” He was no longer speaking out of frustration, however. His curiosity was now tapped by the strange gusts of wind. No longer could he explain the happenings as chance. Now they were clearly the result of some outside force. Semeion mumbled to himself as his mind continued to think. “At least so far it’s been benign.”

Ischarus turned Elistra back along the route that he wanted to go and as he encouraged her forward the strong gale picked up again. Once again the wind hardly affected anyone else in the party except Ischarus. Having enough of the wind, Ischarus pulled Elistra back and the gale wind ceased to blow.

Charis’ mind was also searching for an explanation. “Here, let me try.” Charis lead Abijou in the direction that Ischarus had tried to move and she was likewise met with the same resistance of wind. After a few seconds in the wind she and Abijou had both had enough. It was clear that the horses were beginning to become spooked.

Rhema’s mind was trying to figure out what was going on. “I hope that we have not willingly fallen into some kind of trap. The goblin prints we found here were kind of obvious. Maybe the design was to get us to stop so that the trap could be properly set up.”

Semeion shook his head from side to side. His mind was coming to a conclusion as he searched the magic around them. “Wait. The earlier gusts of wind only happened when we spoke of our mission. The first one came when we mentioned freeing Charis’ people. The second one happened when we mentioned avoiding the goblins. It was when we acted on trying to avoid the goblins when we met the greatest resistance. Ischarus, follow the path made by the tracks slowly. If you can make it, keep going. We’ll fall in line behind you.

Ischarus used the reigns to turn Elistra in the direction that the tracks had been heading. By this point, there had been enough horse traffic over the prints that they were difficult to see. However, Ischarus was pretty sure that he was headed in the right direction. As Elistra stepped forward, she was met with no resistance. The party stepped forward one by one in line with Ischarus and slowly followed the goblin tracks. The pleasurable moment of laughter that they had enjoyed only a few minutes ago was past. For some reason, the elements of Quehalost had seemingly decided to get revenge on their laughter by forcing them into conflict with the goblins.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 4, 2006)

The foursome traveled through the thick underbrush as they slowly followed the tracks of the goblins.  In the back of his mind, Ischarus knew that if the tracks weren’t fresh he’d have no chance of picking them out underneath the plant growth.  Fortunately the signs were fairly obvious.  He also knew that they were following them much more slowly than they had been laid, so the likelihood of coming across the goblins that originally made these tracks was not very good.  Both of those facts made Ischarus much more at ease knowing that the only reason he was taking this path in the first place was because of some weird magical wind that forced him down this path.

They traveled in silence for over an hour, slowly picking their way through the low branches.  After having their joyous laugh ruined by the suspense and mystery of the land they were all too busy lost in their thoughts to do much speaking out loud.  Of course, the fact that they were in goblin territory and largely outnumbered wasn’t much of an encouragement to talk loudly either.  They plugged along slowly, each one occasionally rubbing the mane of their horse to inspire it to keep moving.

As they continued, suddenly Ischarus heard Rhema’s voice whispering loudly behind him.  “Ischarus, stop.  I saw something.” 

Ischarus smiled as he pulled Elistra to a stop and began to turn her around.  He teased Rhema slightly.  “Oh, how the mighty have fallen now that Rhema is seeing things!”

He was greeted with a very stern shushing from Charis.  Rhema had already dismounted off of Shauvry and charged on foot into the underbrush.  Charis and Semeion looked as though they were unsure as to whether or not they should follow.

Ischarus cursed under his breath when he saw Shauvry standing on the path with his saddle empty.  He quickly swung his leg over Elistra’s back and was on the ground.  He collected the reigns attached to Shauvry’s bit and bridle and brought both horses over to Charis.  “Stay here with Semeion and watch this trail.  It isn’t an often used trail by the looks of it, but if there is a tribal gathering or something going on it might be used more than normal.  You and Semeion need to protect the horses.”

Charis nodded, looking back at Semeion.  A slight smile came across her face, knowing that she and Semeion hadn’t had any time alone since the entered the tunnels on the Tongra side of the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains.  It might be nice to have a few moments with absolutely nothing to do except stay in one place with Semeion.  In the end, she readily accepted the reigns from Ischarus and dismounted.  Ischarus was gone in a flash after Rhema once Charis had taken the reigns from him.

Rhema was nearly a half minute ahead of Ischarus and she could just barely hear him coming through the underbrush behind her.  She knew that she would have an easier time hearing him than he would of hearing her, however.  She reached out and grabbed a thin birch sapling and shook it hard, rustling its leaves clear to the top.  She was confident that Ischarus would be able to hear that.

She focused once more on trying to find what she had seen dart off of the road.  She thought about what her mind had understood and it simply didn’t make sense.  It was like a shadow had moved on its own, without something physical to move in correlation to it.  As her mind focused, she stopped moving forward and thought some more.  In a whisper she began to talk to herself.  “Surely I am not chasing shadows through the woods of Quehalost.  I am smarter than that.” 

As her mind began to realize the imminent dangers that this land could be throwing at her, she reached out and found another sapling.  She shook it hard, figuring that Ischarus would need another clue as to where to head soon.  She listened and heard him coming in her direction.  He was closing in on her and she relaxed knowing that he was drawing closer.

Suddenly her eyes caught movement again.  Again in a whisper she talked herself through her surprise as she once again began the chase.  “A foot!  I know a foot when I see one, and that clearly was a foot.  But it was no foot like I have ever seen.  I could see through it.  I could see the base of the tree behind where the foot was resting upon the ground.”  A sudden chill ran through her body as she stopped moving.  She heard herself talk through what she had seen and she knew the implications all too well.  She was chasing some kind of shadow that could maintain its shape without having a physical body to relate to.  A chill ran up her spine and she noticed that her feet no longer desired to move forward.

Again she spoke softly to herself.  “Turn around, Rhema,” She was trying to talk herself away.  There was no telling what deep evil had risen out of Quehalost against them.  “You can’t use your powers of persuasion upon a shadow.  Shadows don’t really care about things like we do.  If you meet that shadow, then what’re you going to do?”

A hand reached out and touched her from behind.  Rhema shrieked loudly as she crouched to the ground and spun around to face her adversary.  Without even thinking about it, her might focused on what she could only assume was the worst.  She extended a mental attack similar to the attack she had used on the gray skinned creatures below the mountains.  To her surprise the attack worked!

Ischarus was hit with her attack and he shrunk to the ground in pain.  “Ahh!  Rhema, get out of my mind!”  Tears streamed down his face at the sharpness of the unexpected assault.

Slowly, Rhema’s mind reverted back to reality.  She knew that voice.  She looked with her eyes; it was something she had not done earlier.  She didn’t want to see her assailant.  She merely wanted to force it off unseen.  But when she heard the familiar voice her eyes darted up to see Ischarus crouching in pain before her.  Immediately she released him from the attack and rushed to his aid.  “Oh, Ischarus!  I didn’t know it was you.  I saw something.  Actually I saw through something.  Up until then I was just so curious, but when I actually saw a part of what I was chasing I got scared.  And you caught me and …”

Ischarus had relaxed once Rhema’s assault had left his mind.  He even boldly reached out his hand once again to her shoulder as she spoke in a hurried pattern.  “Rhema, calm down.  I’m alright.  I’ve got a bit of a headache now, but I’ll live.  And, you’re babbling pretty badly.  So stop and breathe for a moment and then tell me once more what happened.”

Rhema paused in her speech and allowed herself to calm down.  She took a few more deep breaths and caught Ischarus’ attention with her eyes.  The look on her face was deeply apologetic and Ischarus could only smile.  At the moment, he thought that she looked as though her favorite pet had just died.

He reached out and drew her into his shoulder.  “Forget it, Rhema.  You were obviously scared.  I’m not hurt badly, so don’t worry about it.”

Rhema breathed deeply through her nose and choked back a few tears.  “We aren’t chasing something natural, Ischarus.  You can see right through it to the other side, but not clearly.”

Ischarus smiled, and he felt good enough to rise to his feet once more.  Once he was standing he extended his arms to Rhema.  As he helped her to his feet he continued to speak.  “Well, I assumed not, Rhema.  Something that has this kind of power over the wind is either a strong magic user or something not natural.  I’ve been hoping it wasn’t a strong magic user because if it was we were immediately in over our head and thus being toyed with.  If it had the power of someone like Brandt then we were just walking into its trap.  Given that conclusion, your telling me that it isn’t natural is actually a relief.”

Another gust of wind blew through the middle of where Rhema and Semeion sat.  Rhema’s eyes darted to Ischarus and then she spun around and stared along the ground.  She couldn’t spot anything like before from where she stood.

Ischarus spoke as his mind was trying to make sense of the situation.  “Listen, Rhema.  Let’s move in the direction that you were headed.  Maybe we’ll get another look and I’ll see it this time, too.”

Rhema nodded and led the way.  Her confidence and curiosity was returning now that Ischarus had caught up with her.  She stepped off into the direction that she had been moving.  After a few paces both she and Ischarus pointed in the same area.  

Ischarus called out from behind.  “There it goes!”  He indicated with his finger that the shadowy creature had moved off to the right.  

Rhema called as she plunged through the undergrowth in the general direction the shadowy for had appeared to be moving.  “I told you I saw something!  Did you see what I meant about being able to see through it?”

Ischarus didn’t reply.  He did nod to himself as he followed her change of course.  He was deep in thought about what they could be following and never thought about the fact that Rhema couldn’t see his nod.  Rhema didn’t seem to mind, though, as she kept moving through the brush.  Suddenly she stopped short.  Ischarus came up from behind quickly and nearly ran into her.  Her eyes were fixated on a small horizontal stone slab in front of her.  Ischarus saw the slab and couldn’t help but exclaim at the oddity of the sight.  “What in Quehalost is that?” His words had broken the small silence that had formed during the chase.

Rhema stepped closer to the stone.  There were burn marks across the face of the stone.  Her head cocked slightly to the right as she took in the pattern of the marks, trying desperately to have it make sense to her mind.  Her hand began to reach out and touch the marks to see how fresh they might be, but as she moved she quickly thought better of it.

Ischarus exclaimed in what sounded like a muffled shout.  “Look!”  He pointed toward the base of the stone slab where there were four slightly rotted wooden stakes.  He continued in his whisper as he felt the need to hold the scene in reverence.  “There are four of these around the base.  And each stake seems to mark the major directions on a compass.”

Rhema nodded, putting the scene together in her mind.  She likewise replied in a whisper.  “And these wooden stakes are right below where the burn marks reach the edge of the stone.  Could something have been tied …”

Her voice stopped short with a slight tone of horror behind it.  Without delay Ischarus looked at her face and followed her line of sight to the stone slab.  Immediately he saw what she had put together in her mind.  His hand covered his mouth as the realization sunk in.  “Not something, Rhema.  Someone.  Someone was burned here.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
The foursome traveled through the thick underbrush as they slowly followed the tracks of the goblins. In the back of his mind, Ischarus knew that if the tracks weren’t fresh he’d have no chance of picking them out underneath the plant growth. Fortunately the signs were fairly obvious. He also knew that they were following them much more slowly than they had been laid, so the likelihood of coming across the goblins that originally made these tracks was not very good. Both of those facts made Ischarus much more at ease knowing that the only reason he was taking this path in the first place was because of some weird magical wind that forced him down this path.

They traveled in silence for over an hour, slowly picking their way through the low branches. After having their joyous laugh ruined by the suspense and mystery of the land they were all too busy lost in their thoughts to do much speaking out loud. Of course, the fact that they were in goblin territory and largely outnumbered wasn’t much of an encouragement to talk loudly either. They plugged along slowly, each one occasionally rubbing the mane of their horse to inspire it to keep moving.

As they continued, suddenly Ischarus heard Rhema’s voice whispering loudly behind him. “Ischarus, stop. I saw something.” 

Ischarus smiled as he pulled Elistra to a stop and began to turn her around. He teased Rhema slightly. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen now that Rhema is seeing things!”

He was greeted with a very stern shushing from Charis. Rhema had already dismounted off of Shauvry and charged on foot into the underbrush. Charis and Semeion looked as though they were unsure as to whether or not they should follow.

Ischarus cursed under his breath when he saw Shauvry standing on the path with his saddle empty. He quickly swung his leg over Elistra’s back and was on the ground. He collected the reigns attached to Shauvry’s bit and bridle and brought both horses over to Charis. “Stay here with Semeion and watch this trail. It isn’t an often used trail by the looks of it, but if there is a tribal gathering or something going on it might be used more than normal. You and Semeion need to protect the horses.”

Charis nodded, looking back at Semeion. A slight smile came across her face, knowing that she and Semeion hadn’t had any time alone since the entered the tunnels on the Tongra side of the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains. It might be nice to have a few moments with absolutely nothing to do except stay in one place with Semeion. In the end, she readily accepted the reigns from Ischarus and dismounted. Ischarus was gone in a flash after Rhema once Charis had taken the reigns from him.

Rhema was nearly a half minute ahead of Ischarus and she could just barely hear him coming through the underbrush behind her. She knew that she would have an easier time hearing him than he would of hearing her, however. She reached out and grabbed a thin birch sapling and shook it hard, rustling its leaves clear to the top. She was confident that Ischarus would be able to hear that.

She focused once more on trying to find what she had seen dart off of the road. She thought about what her mind had understood and it simply didn’t make sense. It was like a shadow had moved on its own, without something physical to move in correlation to it. As her mind focused, she stopped moving forward and thought some more. In a whisper she began to talk to herself. “Surely I am not chasing shadows through the woods of Quehalost. I am smarter than that.” 

As her mind began to realize the imminent dangers that this land could be throwing at her, she reached out and found another sapling. She shook it hard, figuring that Ischarus would need another clue as to where to head soon. She listened and heard him coming in her direction. He was closing in on her and she relaxed knowing that he was drawing closer.

Suddenly her eyes caught movement again. Again in a whisper she talked herself through her surprise as she once again began the chase. “A foot! I know a foot when I see one, and that clearly was a foot. But it was no foot like I have ever seen. I could see through it. I could see the base of the tree behind where the foot was resting upon the ground.” A sudden chill ran through her body as she stopped moving. She heard herself talk through what she had seen and she knew the implications all too well. She was chasing some kind of shadow that could maintain its shape without having a physical body to relate to. A chill ran up her spine and she noticed that her feet no longer desired to move forward.

Again she spoke softly to herself. “Turn around, Rhema,” She was trying to talk herself away. There was no telling what deep evil had risen out of Quehalost against them. “You can’t use your powers of persuasion upon a shadow. Shadows don’t really care about things like we do. If you meet that shadow, then what’re you going to do?”

A hand reached out and touched her from behind. Rhema shrieked loudly as she crouched to the ground and spun around to face her adversary. Without even thinking about it, her might focused on what she could only assume was the worst. She extended a mental attack similar to the attack she had used on the gray skinned creatures below the mountains. To her surprise the attack worked!

Ischarus was hit with her attack and he shrunk to the ground in pain. “Ahh! Rhema, get out of my mind!” Tears streamed down his face at the sharpness of the unexpected assault.

Slowly, Rhema’s mind reverted back to reality. She knew that voice. She looked with her eyes; it was something she had not done earlier. She didn’t want to see her assailant. She merely wanted to force it off unseen. But when she heard the familiar voice her eyes darted up to see Ischarus crouching in pain before her. Immediately she released him from the attack and rushed to his aid. “Oh, Ischarus! I didn’t know it was you. I saw something. Actually I saw through something. Up until then I was just so curious, but when I actually saw a part of what I was chasing I got scared. And you caught me and …”

Ischarus had relaxed once Rhema’s assault had left his mind. He even boldly reached out his hand once again to her shoulder as she spoke in a hurried pattern. “Rhema, calm down. I’m alright. I’ve got a bit of a headache now, but I’ll live. And, you’re babbling pretty badly. So stop and breathe for a moment and then tell me once more what happened.”

Rhema paused in her speech and allowed herself to calm down. She took a few more deep breaths and caught Ischarus’ attention with her eyes. The look on her face was deeply apologetic and Ischarus could only smile. At the moment, he thought that she looked as though her favorite pet had just died.

He reached out and drew her into his shoulder. “Forget it, Rhema. You were obviously scared. I’m not hurt badly, so don’t worry about it.”

Rhema breathed deeply through her nose and choked back a few tears. “We aren’t chasing something natural, Ischarus. You can see right through it to the other side, but not clearly.”

Ischarus smiled, and he felt good enough to rise to his feet once more. Once he was standing he extended his arms to Rhema. As he helped her to his feet he continued to speak. “Well, I assumed not, Rhema. Something that has this kind of power over the wind is either a strong magic user or something not natural. I’ve been hoping it wasn’t a strong magic user because if it was we were immediately in over our head and thus being toyed with. If it had the power of someone like Brandt then we were just walking into its trap. Given that conclusion, your telling me that it isn’t natural is actually a relief.”

Another gust of wind blew through the middle of where Rhema and Semeion sat. Rhema’s eyes darted to Ischarus and then she spun around and stared along the ground. She couldn’t spot anything like before from where she stood.

Ischarus spoke as his mind was trying to make sense of the situation. “Listen, Rhema. Let’s move in the direction that you were headed. Maybe we’ll get another look and I’ll see it this time, too.”

Rhema nodded and led the way. Her confidence and curiosity was returning now that Ischarus had caught up with her. She stepped off into the direction that she had been moving. After a few paces both she and Ischarus pointed in the same area. 

Ischarus called out from behind. “There it goes!” He indicated with his finger that the shadowy creature had moved off to the right. 

Rhema called as she plunged through the undergrowth in the general direction the shadowy for had appeared to be moving. “I told you I saw something! Did you see what I meant about being able to see through it?”

Ischarus didn’t reply. He did nod to himself as he followed her change of course. He was deep in thought about what they could be following and never thought about the fact that Rhema couldn’t see his nod. Rhema didn’t seem to mind, though, as she kept moving through the brush. Suddenly she stopped short. Ischarus came up from behind quickly and nearly ran into her. Her eyes were fixated on a small horizontal stone slab in front of her. Ischarus saw the slab and couldn’t help but exclaim at the oddity of the sight. “What in Quehalost is that?” His words had broken the small silence that had formed during the chase.

Rhema stepped closer to the stone. There were burn marks across the face of the stone. Her head cocked slightly to the right as she took in the pattern of the marks, trying desperately to have it make sense to her mind. Her hand began to reach out and touch the marks to see how fresh they might be, but as she moved she quickly thought better of it.

Ischarus exclaimed in what sounded like a muffled shout. “Look!” He pointed toward the base of the stone slab where there were four slightly rotted wooden stakes. He continued in his whisper as he felt the need to hold the scene in reverence. “There are four of these around the base. And each stake seems to mark the major directions on a compass.”

Rhema nodded, putting the scene together in her mind. She likewise replied in a whisper. “And these wooden stakes are right below where the burn marks reach the edge of the stone. Could something have been tied …”

Her voice stopped short with a slight tone of horror behind it. Without delay Ischarus looked at her face and followed her line of sight to the stone slab. Immediately he saw what she had put together in her mind. His hand covered his mouth as the realization sunk in. “Not something, Rhema. Someone. Someone was burned here.”
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 5, 2006)

Rhema’s head shook slightly in an affirmative motion in response to Ischarus’ grim assertion.  “Yeah.  The hands were extended and tied to the stakes.  The legs were also extended and tied.  That circular burn mark there must be the head.”  Her hand shook slightly as she gestured to a small burned spot on the stone.  “Who would do such a thing as this?”

Ischarus replied calmly.  “Have you forgotten where we are, Rhema?”  It was a rhetorical question, but Ischarus had said it anyway.  “Here they don’t play with the same set of rules that we do, Rhema.  Their rules are a bit more lethal and unforgiving than what we’re accustomed to.”

A glint of reflected light caught Ischarus’ attention.  The brief shimmer had come from a location a few feet into the trees on the other side of the stone slab.  He stepped toward the light and directed Rhema to keep from following.  “Stay here and watch out for trouble.”

Rhema looked to Ischarus and raised an eyebrow in curiosity.  “Uh, okay.  Where are you going?”

Her question went unanswered as Ischarus let his movement speak for him.  He rounded the stone slab and stood between the stone and the tree line.  He waited again for the glint of reflected light and when the natural winds blew just right he caught sight of it again.  He thrust his hand deep into the undergrowth of the forest and clamped down tightly when he felt something that wasn’t a tree.  As he pulled out the object he saw clearly what it was.  

A small laugh escaped his mouth before he began to speak.  “Well that’s interesting, although not unexpected.  This axe is of a goblin make.”  He held in his hand a very primitive looking instrument.  The highly polished flint blade that had reflected the light was held in place by a significant solid wood handle and a few ropes that had been made from vine fiber.

As Ischarus examined the axe and before Rhema could interrupt him, a strong wind blew through this area of the forest.  The wind assaulted both Ischarus and Rhema, blowing Rhema’s hair so strongly that it often lay horizontal out from her head.

Rhema cupped her hands over her mouth to yell in Ischarus’ direction.  “I think you’ve found something significant, Ischarus.  I’m just not sure if that is a good or bad thing!”

Ischarus could barely hear Rhema shouting over the howling wind.  He contemplated putting the axe back but decided against it.  As the wind blew, he approached the stone slab and set the primitive axe upon the stone.  Immediately the wind silenced into perfect calm.  Both Rhema and Ischarus nearly fell over as the force of the wind was removed.  Neither realized the force that was required to brace themselves against it.

A strange voice erupted from among the trees.  “Well done, people of Tongra.”

The voice came from the same direction as the wind that had just stopped.  In an instant Rhema turned to face the voice and she let out a startled yell.  Ischarus had his sword drawn in a flash and pivoted to prepare himself to deflect a blow.  He was not prepared for what his eyes saw before him.

Rhema had been right before.  The image that stood before them was in fact semi-transparent.  Ischarus looked on in interest as his eyes made sense of the figure.  The figure was completely monochromatic.  A light gray colored the figure’s hands, feet, skin, eyes, and clothing.  The forest behind him appeared to be a blending of the natural green and the light gray from his skin.  The figure wore leather armor and had a sword attached to his belt just above his left hip.  On the opposite side of his belt was a hammer.  Both of these weapons were light gray and semi-transparent as well.

Underneath the light gray armor the figure wore what appeared to be a simple shirt.  The shirt was also of a light gray coloration.  His feet had simple traveling boots upon them and his head donned a simple leather cap that covered his short hair and protected his ears.  Perhaps what made this figure more real than anything was the way that the eyes blinked naturally.

Rhema spoke through a trembling voice.  “Forgive me, but I think you have us at a tremendous disadvantage.  Would you care to tell us why we are here?”  He hand was extended forward, ready to launch another one of her mental assaults upon this figure.  She had no idea of whether or not that kind of attack would even work against the ghostly image.

Ischarus likewise kept his sword drawn and in position.  He was even more unsure than Rhema as to what effectiveness his sword would have against this figure, but the comfort of feeling the hilt within his grasp and the support of the pommel below his fingers comforted him in this time of uncertainty.  He swallowed hard as he waited for the figure to speak once more.

The figure smiled, and as it did its lips parted slightly.  Behind these lips sat a neat set of light-gray teeth.  Once again these teeth were exactly the color of the rest of the figure’s body and clothing.  It held out its hands in a peaceful gesture and finally spoke.  “You’ll not need those weapons with me.  Even your mental attacks will not reach me, Rhema.”

Ischarus jumped to the defensive and ignored the figure’s comment about the weapons.  He held the sword more directly toward the light gray figure and coldly questioned him.  “How do you know her name?”

The figure neither backed down nor showed any fear of Ischarus’ increasingly threatening posture.  “I have been listening to you all for several hours, now.  I know all of your names.  You are Ischarus.  You even left Semeion and Charis back at the horses.  I know these things; I have been traveling with you this whole day.”

Rhema dropped her hands, more in amazement than out of truly understanding that her attacks couldn’t harm this figure.  “Are you the one that Ischarus has been sensing this whole day?”

The figure nodded.  “I am the same.”

Ischarus emitted a low growl.  “Then why have you waited until now to make yourself seen?  I could feel you!”

A sudden look of deep sadness passed over the figure’s face as he looked at the stone slab between Ischarus and Rhema.  “I was drawn to your presence as soon as you broke free of the tunnels and entered Quehalost.  I have been searching for anyone with a pure heart for what you both feel as the passage of several months.  But I had to know if you were capable of caring, first.”

Rhema was moved by the figure’s look.  “Caring?  We are here because you gave us no other option!”  At this point she began to care much less about the fact that she was talking to a very unnatural figure and more about finding out the nature of this figure’s puzzle.

The figure replied in a calm manner.  “Yes, Rhema.  I needed to know if you were capable of caring about my cause.  You see, this stone is the last thing that I ever saw.”

Ischarus began to question the ghostly figure’s assertion, but Rhema beat him to the punch.  “Saw?  I mean, are you really telling us that you are dead?”

The figure chuckled, its light gray shoulders rising and falling as the look of remorse passed from its face.  His face took on a look of amusement.  “Forgive me for laughing, I know this is difficult for you to believe.  But I am amused that it sounds so shocking to you.  I took me the better part of what you now call a year to accept that reality.  For me, time is meaningless.  But yes, I have come to terms with the fact that I am indeed dead.”

Ischarus and Rhema each glanced at the other person, exchanging looks of confusion.  Ischarus spoke first.  “But, if you’re dead …”

The amusement passed from the figure’s expression and it once more turned to sorrow as he focused upon the stone.  “Then what am I still doing walking the forests of Quehalost?”

Without even thinking about it, Rhema agreed as she exhaled.  “Yeah.”

The figure spoke, continuing to stare at the stone.  “That is why I needed to know that you were capable of caring.  If you are willing, I will share my story with you – and why I believe that I am still attached to this world and unable to move on.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Rhema’s head shook slightly in an affirmative motion in response to Ischarus’ grim assertion. “Yeah. The hands were extended and tied to the stakes. The legs were also extended and tied. That circular burn mark there must be the head.” Her hand shook slightly as she gestured to a small burned spot on the stone. “Who would do such a thing as this?”

Ischarus replied calmly. “Have you forgotten where we are, Rhema?” It was a rhetorical question, but Ischarus had said it anyway. “Here they don’t play with the same set of rules that we do, Rhema. Their rules are a bit more lethal and unforgiving than what we’re accustomed to.”

A glint of reflected light caught Ischarus’ attention. The brief shimmer had come from a location a few feet into the trees on the other side of the stone slab. He stepped toward the light and directed Rhema to keep from following. “Stay here and watch out for trouble.”

Rhema looked to Ischarus and raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Uh, okay. Where are you going?”

Her question went unanswered as Ischarus let his movement speak for him. He rounded the stone slab and stood between the stone and the tree line. He waited again for the glint of reflected light and when the natural winds blew just right he caught sight of it again. He thrust his hand deep into the undergrowth of the forest and clamped down tightly when he felt something that wasn’t a tree. As he pulled out the object he saw clearly what it was. 

A small laugh escaped his mouth before he began to speak. “Well that’s interesting, although not unexpected. This axe is of a goblin make.” He held in his hand a very primitive looking instrument. The highly polished flint blade that had reflected the light was held in place by a significant solid wood handle and a few ropes that had been made from vine fiber.

As Ischarus examined the axe and before Rhema could interrupt him, a strong wind blew through this area of the forest. The wind assaulted both Ischarus and Rhema, blowing Rhema’s hair so strongly that it often lay horizontal out from her head.

Rhema cupped her hands over her mouth to yell in Ischarus’ direction. “I think you’ve found something significant, Ischarus. I’m just not sure if that is a good or bad thing!”

Ischarus could barely hear Rhema shouting over the howling wind. He contemplated putting the axe back but decided against it. As the wind blew, he approached the stone slab and set the primitive axe upon the stone. Immediately the wind silenced into perfect calm. Both Rhema and Ischarus nearly fell over as the force of the wind was removed. Neither realized the force that was required to brace themselves against it.

A strange voice erupted from among the trees. “Well done, people of Tongra.”

The voice came from the same direction as the wind that had just stopped. In an instant Rhema turned to face the voice and she let out a startled yell. Ischarus had his sword drawn in a flash and pivoted to prepare himself to deflect a blow. He was not prepared for what his eyes saw before him.

Rhema had been right before. The image that stood before them was in fact semi-transparent. Ischarus looked on in interest as his eyes made sense of the figure. The figure was completely monochromatic. A light gray colored the figure’s hands, feet, skin, eyes, and clothing. The forest behind him appeared to be a blending of the natural green and the light gray from his skin. The figure wore leather armor and had a sword attached to his belt just above his left hip. On the opposite side of his belt was a hammer. Both of these weapons were light gray and semi-transparent as well.

Underneath the light gray armor the figure wore what appeared to be a simple shirt. The shirt was also of a light gray coloration. His feet had simple traveling boots upon them and his head donned a simple leather cap that covered his short hair and protected his ears. Perhaps what made this figure more real than anything was the way that the eyes blinked naturally.

Rhema spoke through a trembling voice. “Forgive me, but I think you have us at a tremendous disadvantage. Would you care to tell us why we are here?” He hand was extended forward, ready to launch another one of her mental assaults upon this figure. She had no idea of whether or not that kind of attack would even work against the ghostly image.

Ischarus likewise kept his sword drawn and in position. He was even more unsure than Rhema as to what effectiveness his sword would have against this figure, but the comfort of feeling the hilt within his grasp and the support of the pommel below his fingers comforted him in this time of uncertainty. He swallowed hard as he waited for the figure to speak once more.

The figure smiled, and as it did its lips parted slightly. Behind these lips sat a neat set of light-gray teeth. Once again these teeth were exactly the color of the rest of the figure’s body and clothing. It held out its hands in a peaceful gesture and finally spoke. “You’ll not need those weapons with me. Even your mental attacks will not reach me, Rhema.”

Ischarus jumped to the defensive and ignored the figure’s comment about the weapons. He held the sword more directly toward the light gray figure and coldly questioned him. “How do you know her name?”

The figure neither backed down nor showed any fear of Ischarus’ increasingly threatening posture. “I have been listening to you all for several hours, now. I know all of your names. You are Ischarus. You even left Semeion and Charis back at the horses. I know these things; I have been traveling with you this whole day.”

Rhema dropped her hands, more in amazement than out of truly understanding that her attacks couldn’t harm this figure. “Are you the one that Ischarus has been sensing this whole day?”

The figure nodded. “I am the same.”

Ischarus emitted a low growl. “Then why have you waited until now to make yourself seen? I could feel you!”

A sudden look of deep sadness passed over the figure’s face as he looked at the stone slab between Ischarus and Rhema. “I was drawn to your presence as soon as you broke free of the tunnels and entered Quehalost. I have been searching for anyone with a pure heart for what you both feel as the passage of several months. But I had to know if you were capable of caring, first.”

Rhema was moved by the figure’s look. “Caring? We are here because you gave us no other option!” At this point she began to care much less about the fact that she was talking to a very unnatural figure and more about finding out the nature of this figure’s puzzle.

The figure replied in a calm manner. “Yes, Rhema. I needed to know if you were capable of caring about my cause. You see, this stone is the last thing that I ever saw.”

Ischarus began to question the ghostly figure’s assertion, but Rhema beat him to the punch. “Saw? I mean, are you really telling us that you are dead?”

The figure chuckled, its light gray shoulders rising and falling as the look of remorse passed from its face. His face took on a look of amusement. “Forgive me for laughing, I know this is difficult for you to believe. But I am amused that it sounds so shocking to you. I took me the better part of what you now call a year to accept that reality. For me, time is meaningless. But yes, I have come to terms with the fact that I am indeed dead.”

Ischarus and Rhema each glanced at the other person, exchanging looks of confusion. Ischarus spoke first. “But, if you’re dead …”

The amusement passed from the figure’s expression and it once more turned to sorrow as he focused upon the stone. “Then what am I still doing walking the forests of Quehalost?”

Without even thinking about it, Rhema agreed as she exhaled. “Yeah.”

The figure spoke, continuing to stare at the stone. “That is why I needed to know that you were capable of caring. If you are willing, I will share my story with you – and why I believe that I am still attached to this world and unable to move on.”[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 8, 2006)

Ischarus and Rhema looked to one another and nodded without even thinking of Semeion and Charis who were still with the horses.  They were out with the horses along the path; out-of-sight out-of-mind.  The light gray semi-transparent figure took their nod as a sign of interest in its story.

The ghostly image began with a long sigh before speaking.  “Some time ago, as I said earlier about the amount of time that you both feel as a year, I was journeying into Quehalost as a scout.  The organization that I was working for employed me to travel into Quehalost and look for useful areas.  Of course, nobody in their right mind would come into Quehalost and develop the land.  It would take too many resources in terms of defense just to keep the place.  However, that didn’t mean that my organization couldn’t infiltrate the area and learn what we could from the natives.”

“You might think that Quehalost is a backward region where the constant fighting keeps the level of advances down to a minimum.  And in many areas you might be correct.  However, the amount of things that we can learn by studying the inhabitants in regard to tactics, defensiveness, and subterfuge is simply amazing.  Because this land is such a rolling boil of existence in regard to power and domination these areas have to be taken rather seriously at all times.”

As the figure spoke, both Ischarus and Semeion noticed that while its chest seemed to simulate the heaving and falling of a patterned breathing, the figure was not actually taking in any air.  The figures lips moved and the audible sound of his voice could be easily heard, but there was no movement of air.  Even as the figure shifted, paced a bit, and even gestured with his hands the air did not stir when it drew close to either Rhema or Ischarus.  However, even with this discovery neither Rhema nor Ischarus interrupted the tale.

The figure continued.  “Perhaps the thing that impressed me most was this small goblin tribe.  Sure, they have more than the small goblins dwelling among them.  They have their larger cousins as part of their network.  But their territory specifically borders three territories that you would assume would overtake this goblin tribe and enslave them.  One the one side there is the land of the red wyrm.  This is the one that to this day you seem to be pursuing if I have understood your conversations correctly.  On the opposite side of this tribe’s territory and not to far from where I was drawn to you as you rested is a land controlled by a particular figure who seems to have an insane curiosity with creating hordes of animal servants as experiments.  At first I thought the figure was a twisted druid that merely gave intelligence to mundane animals.  Yet the creatures would also display rather unique phrenic activity.  The figure was more than merely a misguided nature worshipper.  The third threat is the one that I expected to outright destroy this goblin tribe and its territory.  Bordering further towards the center of Quehalost is a land controlled by a demonic lord bent on possession of Quehalost as a portal to dominate the land.  The demonic lord works to conquer the land so that it can strip it of its resources in building a vast means to bring his minions into this world to conquer it.  This third threat is by far the most aggressive.”

The figure paused, allowing Rhema and Ischarus enough time to absorb the story so far as well as to give them an opportunity to ask any questions.  Neither Rhema nor Ischarus desired to interrupt the figure at this point, so the figure continued.  “Yet the whole time the goblin tribe has survived through several different means.  Against a massive threat they merely vanish.  They have learned how to leave the land as if they had never existed here.  Like true goblin nature they flee before an insurmountable force, knowing that forfeit is still a better option than death.  Once the massive threat has moved through the area, or abandoned the area because no sign of the goblin horde could be found, they reassemble and continue life as normal.”

“Against a smaller threat, they have the ability to fight back.  Their use of guerilla tactics is amazing.  The smaller goblins attack from afar and whittle the enemy down to a point at which the goblin tribe has vastly superior odds.  Then they send in the bigger goblins to make quick work of whatever is left.  Their ingenuity and ability to monitor their land is really quite impressive.  That is why I acted to bring you in along their trail.  If you would have moved in the direction you were headed they would have been alerted to your presence and you would have been subject to their guerilla tactics.  You likely would have died a fate similar to mine.”

For the first time, Ischarus spoke.  “Well, as frustrating as that trip was it is appreciated in retrospect.

The figure replied with a smile.  “As I said before, the frustration was necessary because I needed to learn about your motivations for being in the land.”

“Anyway, the more and more trips that I took into Quehalost the more I found myself growing fond of this goblin tribe.  When I would plan my trips I would intentionally plan them so that I would come in and out through this area simply so that I could spend a few days among them.  I watched them and learned from them.  Besides, the more I traveled through this land the more it began to feel like home and this truly became the safest way for me to come in and out of Quehalost.”

Rhema nodded slowly.  “That much we understand.  It is nice to travel through such dangerous land on ground that you are most familiar with.  It minimizes accidents.”

The figure smiled.  “Exactly.  So I began to grow fond of these goblins.  And then a year ago it happened to me.  I was watching the goblin tribe from a distance, curious about how they would handle a minor incursion of the druid’s latest creation.  The druid had managed to breed several black bears with the intelligence and ability to seemingly stun their prey with a thought.  The bears would then close on their wounded prey and finish the job.  I had been trailing the bears when I noticed that they were headed for the goblin territory.  I moved ahead of the bears and waited for the goblin tribe to be alerted to their presence.  I wanted to learn how the goblins would react to this threat.”

After a short pause in the story, Rhema noted that the figure had paused with a look of sorrow upon his face.  She decided to help along this portion of the story.  “I take it that the exploration did not go well?”

The figure dropped his eyes to the ground.  “I scouted ahead too late.  By the time I recognized the bears were headed into the goblin territory the goblins had already been alerted. They had already taken up defensive posts without me knowing about it.  I walked right into one of their traps.  By the time I realized what was happening it was too late.  I even knew their tactics but could do nothing to prevent my capture.”

“Because I was only a single person who had been caught unaware I was not much of a threat.  I was taken to their tribal center where they starved me nearly to the point of death.  They displayed me for several days in a steel cage that was too short for me to even stand up and to narrow for me to lie down.  I believe they learned this tactic from the red wyrm that you seek.  I spent several days with some portion of my body bent.  One day I was stripped of my armor and clothing and led out here to this stone.  I was so weak that escape was not an option.  They tied me up …”

Ischarus interrupted the story, watching Rhema as the figure arrived at this portion of the story.  “I think we get the rest of the story.  The evidence here makes it pretty certain.  But that doesn’t do much to explain why you are still here.”

The figure nodded slowly at Ischarus’ interruption and looked Ischarus in the face once more when he asked his question.  “The reason that I am here, so far as I can tell, is because the goblin tribe still displays my leather and my weapons in the middle of their village as a trophy.  I have a mother and a father at home in Tongra and they are awaiting my return.  They must be told of my death, and bringing my armor and weapons to them would bring an end to their waiting.”

Rhema looked a bit surprised.  “That is why you remain here?  Your equipment needs to be returned?”

The figure nodded once more, this time shifting his look to Rhema.  “As far as I can tell, that is the reason I stay behind, unable to move on.  My death is a mere disappearance in the lives of my family and my organization.  My family must learn of my demise so that they can move on with their lives.  Fortunately I never married nor had children.  All I leave behind is parents and siblings.  My items are insignificant except that they are the only proof to my family that I have died.”

Rhema began to speak, but Ischarus cut her off.  “We’ll need to discuss this matter with the other two in our party.”

The figure nodded, and suddenly looked quite alert.  The ghostly figure’s eyes popped wide open and he spoke with great urgency.  “Yes, indeed!  And we must hurry!”

The figure vanished from sight and a small gust of wind blew through the trees, passing directly across the flat horizontal sacrifice stone.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Ischarus and Rhema looked to one another and nodded without even thinking of Semeion and Charis who were still with the horses. They were out with the horses along the path; out-of-sight out-of-mind. The light gray semi-transparent figure took their nod as a sign of interest in its story.

The ghostly image began with a long sigh before speaking. “Some time ago, as I said earlier about the amount of time that you both feel as a year, I was journeying into Quehalost as a scout. The organization that I was working for employed me to travel into Quehalost and look for useful areas. Of course, nobody in their right mind would come into Quehalost and develop the land. It would take too many resources in terms of defense just to keep the place. However, that didn’t mean that my organization couldn’t infiltrate the area and learn what we could from the natives.”

“You might think that Quehalost is a backward region where the constant fighting keeps the level of advances down to a minimum. And in many areas you might be correct. However, the amount of things that we can learn by studying the inhabitants in regard to tactics, defensiveness, and subterfuge is simply amazing. Because this land is such a rolling boil of existence in regard to power and domination these areas have to be taken rather seriously at all times.”

As the figure spoke, both Ischarus and Semeion noticed that while its chest seemed to simulate the heaving and falling of a patterned breathing, the figure was not actually taking in any air. The figures lips moved and the audible sound of his voice could be easily heard, but there was no movement of air. Even as the figure shifted, paced a bit, and even gestured with his hands the air did not stir when it drew close to either Rhema or Ischarus. However, even with this discovery neither Rhema nor Ischarus interrupted the tale.

The figure continued. “Perhaps the thing that impressed me most was this small goblin tribe. Sure, they have more than the small goblins dwelling among them. They have their larger cousins as part of their network. But their territory specifically borders three territories that you would assume would overtake this goblin tribe and enslave them. One the one side there is the land of the red wyrm. This is the one that to this day you seem to be pursuing if I have understood your conversations correctly. On the opposite side of this tribe’s territory and not to far from where I was drawn to you as you rested is a land controlled by a particular figure who seems to have an insane curiosity with creating hordes of animal servants as experiments. At first I thought the figure was a twisted druid that merely gave intelligence to mundane animals. Yet the creatures would also display rather unique phrenic activity. The figure was more than merely a misguided nature worshipper. The third threat is the one that I expected to outright destroy this goblin tribe and its territory. Bordering further towards the center of Quehalost is a land controlled by a demonic lord bent on possession of Quehalost as a portal to dominate the land. The demonic lord works to conquer the land so that it can strip it of its resources in building a vast means to bring his minions into this world to conquer it. This third threat is by far the most aggressive.”

The figure paused, allowing Rhema and Ischarus enough time to absorb the story so far as well as to give them an opportunity to ask any questions. Neither Rhema nor Ischarus desired to interrupt the figure at this point, so the figure continued. “Yet the whole time the goblin tribe has survived through several different means. Against a massive threat they merely vanish. They have learned how to leave the land as if they had never existed here. Like true goblin nature they flee before an insurmountable force, knowing that forfeit is still a better option than death. Once the massive threat has moved through the area, or abandoned the area because no sign of the goblin horde could be found, they reassemble and continue life as normal.”

“Against a smaller threat, they have the ability to fight back. Their use of guerilla tactics is amazing. The smaller goblins attack from afar and whittle the enemy down to a point at which the goblin tribe has vastly superior odds. Then they send in the bigger goblins to make quick work of whatever is left. Their ingenuity and ability to monitor their land is really quite impressive. That is why I acted to bring you in along their trail. If you would have moved in the direction you were headed they would have been alerted to your presence and you would have been subject to their guerilla tactics. You likely would have died a fate similar to mine.”

For the first time, Ischarus spoke. “Well, as frustrating as that trip was it is appreciated in retrospect.

The figure replied with a smile. “As I said before, the frustration was necessary because I needed to learn about your motivations for being in the land.”

“Anyway, the more and more trips that I took into Quehalost the more I found myself growing fond of this goblin tribe. When I would plan my trips I would intentionally plan them so that I would come in and out through this area simply so that I could spend a few days among them. I watched them and learned from them. Besides, the more I traveled through this land the more it began to feel like home and this truly became the safest way for me to come in and out of Quehalost.”

Rhema nodded slowly. “That much we understand. It is nice to travel through such dangerous land on ground that you are most familiar with. It minimizes accidents.”

The figure smiled. “Exactly. So I began to grow fond of these goblins. And then a year ago it happened to me. I was watching the goblin tribe from a distance, curious about how they would handle a minor incursion of the druid’s latest creation. The druid had managed to breed several black bears with the intelligence and ability to seemingly stun their prey with a thought. The bears would then close on their wounded prey and finish the job. I had been trailing the bears when I noticed that they were headed for the goblin territory. I moved ahead of the bears and waited for the goblin tribe to be alerted to their presence. I wanted to learn how the goblins would react to this threat.”

After a short pause in the story, Rhema noted that the figure had paused with a look of sorrow upon his face. She decided to help along this portion of the story. “I take it that the exploration did not go well?”

The figure dropped his eyes to the ground. “I scouted ahead too late. By the time I recognized the bears were headed into the goblin territory the goblins had already been alerted. They had already taken up defensive posts without me knowing about it. I walked right into one of their traps. By the time I realized what was happening it was too late. I even knew their tactics but could do nothing to prevent my capture.”

“Because I was only a single person who had been caught unaware I was not much of a threat. I was taken to their tribal center where they starved me nearly to the point of death. They displayed me for several days in a steel cage that was too short for me to even stand up and to narrow for me to lie down. I believe they learned this tactic from the red wyrm that you seek. I spent several days with some portion of my body bent. One day I was stripped of my armor and clothing and led out here to this stone. I was so weak that escape was not an option. They tied me up …”

Ischarus interrupted the story, watching Rhema as the figure arrived at this portion of the story. “I think we get the rest of the story. The evidence here makes it pretty certain. But that doesn’t do much to explain why you are still here.”

The figure nodded slowly at Ischarus’ interruption and looked Ischarus in the face once more when he asked his question. “The reason that I am here, so far as I can tell, is because the goblin tribe still displays my leather and my weapons in the middle of their village as a trophy. I have a mother and a father at home in Tongra and they are awaiting my return. They must be told of my death, and bringing my armor and weapons to them would bring an end to their waiting.”

Rhema looked a bit surprised. “That is why you remain here? Your equipment needs to be returned?”

The figure nodded once more, this time shifting his look to Rhema. “As far as I can tell, that is the reason I stay behind, unable to move on. My death is a mere disappearance in the lives of my family and my organization. My family must learn of my demise so that they can move on with their lives. Fortunately I never married nor had children. All I leave behind is parents and siblings. My items are insignificant except that they are the only proof to my family that I have died.”

Rhema began to speak, but Ischarus cut her off. “We’ll need to discuss this matter with the other two in our party.”

The figure nodded, and suddenly looked quite alert. The ghostly figure’s eyes popped wide open and he spoke with great urgency. “Yes, indeed! And we must hurry!”

The figure vanished from sight and a small gust of wind blew through the trees, passing directly across the flat horizontal sacrifice stone.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 10, 2006)

Ischarus looked at Rhema as the figure vanished into thin air.  “I hate to be the one to state the obvious,” Ischarus spoke and stopped to breathe.

Rhema cut Ischarus short.  “But that can’t be good …” Rhema smiled as Ischarus looked to her in mild irritation for stealing his thunder.  She shrugged her shoulders and extended her hands palm up.  “What?  I didn’t want you to be the one to state the obvious!”

Ischarus offered up a single laugh and stepped away from the stone into the undergrowth of the woods.  As Rhema listened to him run away, she heard the draw of steel as his sword slipped out of its scabbard.  She breathed deeply and took off after him.  She listened closely to follow his path.  Ischarus always had better directional sense than she did and he’d know the shortest way back to the horses.  She yelled ahead as Ischarus charged through the trees.  “Let’s not jump to conclusions, Ischarus!”

As the two dashed through the undergrowth, suddenly Ischarus saw a light gray object before him.  He was running too hard to stop before reaching the figure and before he knew it he heard the voice of the ghostly image speaking to him.  “Stop, Ischarus!” 

It was too late.  Ischarus passed straight through the figure and emerged out the other side before he could stop.  By that point in time Ischarus could see the trail just beyond a few more trees.  He was able to stop before emerging onto the trail.  

As Rhema approached Ischarus’ back she both heard and saw the light gray figure and was able to stop before passing through it.  As she watched Ischarus pass completely through the shadowy gray figure, she also watched as the figure vanished before her.  She slowly approached Ischarus’ position only a few feet from the road and she saw the light gray figure reappear before Ischarus.  He had a finger raised to his lips as a sign to be quiet.

Ischarus raised an eyebrow at the appearance of the light gray figure.  “What was that about?” Ischarus whispered in annoyance.

The figure breathed in and smiled.  As he exhaled, Ischarus noticed again that there was no noticeable movement of air as he breathed.  “That was the only way I could get you to stop on time.  Now listen!”

Both Ischarus and Rhema paused and their breathing became shallower.  They listened intently and heard five voices rapidly talking.

The first voice they heard was familiar to them.  It was in fact Charis speaking fast.  They could tell from her tone that she was clearly nervous and trying to be persuasive.  “Listen, Granknog, There is no reason that your friends and I have to get into any kind of fight here.  I respect your power, but you don’t have any idea what kind of fight you are in for.  I’d suggest that you put that mace away and ask your friends to step back.”

A hostile voice replied.  “Bah, you speak foolish, human.  We will drag you off whether you come willingly or we have to kill you first.”  The voice was higher pitched than Charis’ own voice, and there were two chuckles added to the haughty arrogance of the first speaker.

Ischarus smiled at Rhema.  “Goblins.”  His smile broadened as he whispered to Rhema and his hand clenched his sword even tighter.

Rhema reached out with her hand and placed it on Ischarus’ shoulder.  She continued the whispering as she replied.  “Wait.  There might be another way.  There might be a way that can get them out of their jam without bloodshed as well as get us what we need for our gray friend here.”  Rhema’s face displayed a devious smile and as she gave Ischarus a wink she knew that he was caught with curiosity to her plan.  With careful silence he stowed his blade and waited for Rhema’s signal.

Back on the trail, Semeion was adding to Charis’ statement.  “I don’t think you really do know what you are talking about.  You see how many horses we have here, right?”

Another voice, this one slightly deeper than Semeion’s own voice, replied.  “Yes, but horse thieves go with more horses than they need all the time.  You steal horses; we kill you and steal them back.”

Ischarus couldn’t help but to chuckle at the fairly obscure logic of the not-so-brilliant voice of the second goblin that they heard speak.  With her hand still on his shoulder, Rhema felt Ischarus’ shoulders begin to shake as he snickered to himself.  She too couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head.

Of course, Semeion responded with a bit of confusion.  “What on earth does the fact that we have four horses have to do with us being horse thieves?”

The not-so-logical voice replied again, “There, you admit you are horse thieves.  We now have more reason to kill you.”  Two high pitched goblin sounding snickers accompanied the lower pitched voice’s assertion.

The third goblin voice followed up the conclusion of the lower voice.  “Listen, basically what my friend, Bahkahr, is trying to say here is that we don’t need any more reasons to kill you.  We basically just want to kill you because you’re on our territory and we defend it pretty fiercely.  So you can either give up and let us take you back to town or you can put up a fight and recognize that the day of your death has come.”

Rhema stepped forward out onto the trail, emerging from the undergrowth a single pace behind the goblin trio.  She wasn’t terribly surprised to find two goblins and one of their nastier large kin standing before her.  As they turned in surprise, Rhema reached out and touched the goblin closest to her.  

Granknog stepped back, but was unable to avoid her touch.  Ischarus stepped out behind her and smiled grimly at the large one as Rhema spoke.  “You don’t really want to take on the four of us, do you?”

The smaller goblin that Rhema had not touched spoke in reply.  From the voice, she could tell that it was the more intelligent goblin who had spoken last.  “Yeah, well, this changes things a little.  Perhaps we might be willing to talk a bit longer.”

Rhema smiled deviously once more and looked directly at the goblin that she had touched.  “Why don’t you tell your friends here that you’d rather they stay behind while you leave and go back to the village.  If you do that much for me, I’ll guarantee that my big friend here with the sword won’t get nasty.”

Bahkahr spoke in his low voice.  “Why Granknog say that?”

Granknog spoke harshly to his larger affiliate.  “Cause it’s true you oversized muscle.  She’s right.  I knew that we should’ve brought the pair of swords that hangs in the center of our village.  If we had those swords, we could intimidate these losers even more through our gloating of what our tribe did to that spy a year ago.  If I had those swords, I’d be much more powerful.”

Bahkahr looked dumbfounded by Granknog’s speech.  “But those swords are too big for you, Granknog.”

The third goblin didn’t seem to follow Granknog’s logic any more than Bahkahr.  The third goblin spoke, exposing his growing irritation.  “Granknog, you’re not making any sense even for you.  What does having those swords have to do with these people?”

Granknog merely snarled in return.  “You wouldn’t understand anyway.  That skin of yours is so thick that a good idea would just bounce off your head anyway.”

Granknog pushed forward past Rhema in irritation towards his companions, and Rhema let him go.  Ischarus didn’t try to stop him either.  He’d seen this trick before.  Rhema wasn’t the most charming person without her powers, but he knew that she had the ability to create a burning desire for any one thing within most people.  All it took was a simple touch of her hand.  He had seen her turn an enemy into a non-threat merely by touching the creature and creating an obsession within them.  Once the obsession was born, it was merely a matter of removing the threat of violence and letting the obsession take over.

Bahkahr stepped forward as if to follow Granknog, but Ischarus placed his hand threateningly upon the hilt of his sword and stepped directly into his path.  His calm voice took on a sly tone as he spoke to the less than intelligent larger opponent.  “I wouldn’t, if I were you.  Granknog has indicated that you are to stay here.  Now, I believe the battle currently stands at four on two.  I’d recommend you stay right where you were.”

The third goblin wasn’t sure what to make of this odd run of events.  However, he knew when he had been beaten.  He also knew that fighting now would lead to an unpleasant end.  He decided that keeping his large friend under control was the best way to ensure his safety for the longest time.  “Bahkahr, stay here.  Granknog will be back soon enough.  The village isn’t that far and I doubt he’ll be able to come back with those swords anyway.”

Bahkahr stood still and stuck out his lower lip as if he was deep in thought.  After a few moments he looked to Ischarus and added, “Okay, Frang.  I’ll stay with you for now.  But Bahkahr better come back soon.  I don’t wait well.”

Ischarus looked over top of the goblin and caught Charis’ and Semeion’s attention.  He gave them a knowing smile.  “Now, I am assuming that since you goblins don’t want any trouble that you are going put your weapons on the ground.”

Bahkahr began to obey the suggestion until Frang spoke.  “Don’t be a fool, Bahkahr.  They don’t want to fight us unless they have to.  We keep our weapons and wait.  When Granknog comes back, we’ll continue this.  For now, they can be happy simply keeping us here without complaint.”

Bahkahr smiled, “Okay.  We wait then.  Big man looses.”

Semeion began to step forward, but Ischarus looked him off.  “Fine.  We wait here in a standoff until Granknog comes back.  Don’t try anything stupid.”  He’d rather they wait without the threat of violence, but Rhema had worked hard to create a way to recover the weapons.  If that was able to succeed they’d be that much closer to avoiding conflict with the goblin tribe and recovering the light gray figure’s equipment.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Ischarus looked at Rhema as the figure vanished into thin air. “I hate to be the one to state the obvious,” Ischarus spoke and stopped to breathe.

Rhema cut Ischarus short. “But that can’t be good …” Rhema smiled as Ischarus looked to her in mild irritation for stealing his thunder. She shrugged her shoulders and extended her hands palm up. “What? I didn’t want you to be the one to state the obvious!”

Ischarus offered up a single laugh and stepped away from the stone into the undergrowth of the woods. As Rhema listened to him run away, she heard the draw of steel as his sword slipped out of its scabbard. She breathed deeply and took off after him. She listened closely to follow his path. Ischarus always had better directional sense than she did and he’d know the shortest way back to the horses. She yelled ahead as Ischarus charged through the trees. “Let’s not jump to conclusions, Ischarus!”

As the two dashed through the undergrowth, suddenly Ischarus saw a light gray object before him. He was running too hard to stop before reaching the figure and before he knew it he heard the voice of the ghostly image speaking to him. “Stop, Ischarus!” 

It was too late. Ischarus passed straight through the figure and emerged out the other side before he could stop. By that point in time Ischarus could see the trail just beyond a few more trees. He was able to stop before emerging onto the trail. 

As Rhema approached Ischarus’ back she both heard and saw the light gray figure and was able to stop before passing through it. As she watched Ischarus pass completely through the shadowy gray figure, she also watched as the figure vanished before her. She slowly approached Ischarus’ position only a few feet from the road and she saw the light gray figure reappear before Ischarus. He had a finger raised to his lips as a sign to be quiet.

Ischarus raised an eyebrow at the appearance of the light gray figure. “What was that about?” Ischarus whispered in annoyance.

The figure breathed in and smiled. As he exhaled, Ischarus noticed again that there was no noticeable movement of air as he breathed. “That was the only way I could get you to stop on time. Now listen!”

Both Ischarus and Rhema paused and their breathing became shallower. They listened intently and heard five voices rapidly talking.

The first voice they heard was familiar to them. It was in fact Charis speaking fast. They could tell from her tone that she was clearly nervous and trying to be persuasive. “Listen, Granknog, There is no reason that your friends and I have to get into any kind of fight here. I respect your power, but you don’t have any idea what kind of fight you are in for. I’d suggest that you put that mace away and ask your friends to step back.”

A hostile voice replied. “Bah, you speak foolish, human. We will drag you off whether you come willingly or we have to kill you first.” The voice was higher pitched than Charis’ own voice, and there were two chuckles added to the haughty arrogance of the first speaker.

Ischarus smiled at Rhema. “Goblins.” His smile broadened as he whispered to Rhema and his hand clenched his sword even tighter.

Rhema reached out with her hand and placed it on Ischarus’ shoulder. She continued the whispering as she replied. “Wait. There might be another way. There might be a way that can get them out of their jam without bloodshed as well as get us what we need for our gray friend here.” Rhema’s face displayed a devious smile and as she gave Ischarus a wink she knew that he was caught with curiosity to her plan. With careful silence he stowed his blade and waited for Rhema’s signal.

Back on the trail, Semeion was adding to Charis’ statement. “I don’t think you really do know what you are talking about. You see how many horses we have here, right?”

Another voice, this one slightly deeper than Semeion’s own voice, replied. “Yes, but horse thieves go with more horses than they need all the time. You steal horses; we kill you and steal them back.”

Ischarus couldn’t help but to chuckle at the fairly obscure logic of the not-so-brilliant voice of the second goblin that they heard speak. With her hand still on his shoulder, Rhema felt Ischarus’ shoulders begin to shake as he snickered to himself. She too couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head.

Of course, Semeion responded with a bit of confusion. “What on earth does the fact that we have four horses have to do with us being horse thieves?”

The not-so-logical voice replied again, “There, you admit you are horse thieves. We now have more reason to kill you.” Two high pitched goblin sounding snickers accompanied the lower pitched voice’s assertion.

The third goblin voice followed up the conclusion of the lower voice. “Listen, basically what my friend, Bahkahr, is trying to say here is that we don’t need any more reasons to kill you. We basically just want to kill you because you’re on our territory and we defend it pretty fiercely. So you can either give up and let us take you back to town or you can put up a fight and recognize that the day of your death has come.”

Rhema stepped forward out onto the trail, emerging from the undergrowth a single pace behind the goblin trio. She wasn’t terribly surprised to find two goblins and one of their nastier large kin standing before her. As they turned in surprise, Rhema reached out and touched the goblin closest to her. 

Granknog stepped back, but was unable to avoid her touch. Ischarus stepped out behind her and smiled grimly at the large one as Rhema spoke. “You don’t really want to take on the four of us, do you?”

The smaller goblin that Rhema had not touched spoke in reply. From the voice, she could tell that it was the more intelligent goblin who had spoken last. “Yeah, well, this changes things a little. Perhaps we might be willing to talk a bit longer.”

Rhema smiled deviously once more and looked directly at the goblin that she had touched. “Why don’t you tell your friends here that you’d rather they stay behind while you leave and go back to the village. If you do that much for me, I’ll guarantee that my big friend here with the sword won’t get nasty.”

Bahkahr spoke in his low voice. “Why Granknog say that?”

Granknog spoke harshly to his larger affiliate. “Cause it’s true you oversized muscle. She’s right. I knew that we should’ve brought the pair of swords that hangs in the center of our village. If we had those swords, we could intimidate these losers even more through our gloating of what our tribe did to that spy a year ago. If I had those swords, I’d be much more powerful.”

Bahkahr looked dumbfounded by Granknog’s speech. “But those swords are too big for you, Granknog.”

The third goblin didn’t seem to follow Granknog’s logic any more than Bahkahr. The third goblin spoke, exposing his growing irritation. “Granknog, you’re not making any sense even for you. What does having those swords have to do with these people?”

Granknog merely snarled in return. “You wouldn’t understand anyway. That skin of yours is so thick that a good idea would just bounce off your head anyway.”

Granknog pushed forward past Rhema in irritation towards his companions, and Rhema let him go. Ischarus didn’t try to stop him either. He’d seen this trick before. Rhema wasn’t the most charming person without her powers, but he knew that she had the ability to create a burning desire for any one thing within most people. All it took was a simple touch of her hand. He had seen her turn an enemy into a non-threat merely by touching the creature and creating an obsession within them. Once the obsession was born, it was merely a matter of removing the threat of violence and letting the obsession take over.

Bahkahr stepped forward as if to follow Granknog, but Ischarus placed his hand threateningly upon the hilt of his sword and stepped directly into his path. His calm voice took on a sly tone as he spoke to the less than intelligent larger opponent. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. Granknog has indicated that you are to stay here. Now, I believe the battle currently stands at four on two. I’d recommend you stay right where you were.”

The third goblin wasn’t sure what to make of this odd run of events. However, he knew when he had been beaten. He also knew that fighting now would lead to an unpleasant end. He decided that keeping his large friend under control was the best way to ensure his safety for the longest time. “Bahkahr, stay here. Granknog will be back soon enough. The village isn’t that far and I doubt he’ll be able to come back with those swords anyway.”

Bahkahr stood still and stuck out his lower lip as if he was deep in thought. After a few moments he looked to Ischarus and added, “Okay, Frang. I’ll stay with you for now. But Bahkahr better come back soon. I don’t wait well.”

Ischarus looked over top of the goblin and caught Charis’ and Semeion’s attention. He gave them a knowing smile. “Now, I am assuming that since you goblins don’t want any trouble that you are going put your weapons on the ground.”

Bahkahr began to obey the suggestion until Frang spoke. “Don’t be a fool, Bahkahr. They don’t want to fight us unless they have to. We keep our weapons and wait. When Granknog comes back, we’ll continue this. For now, they can be happy simply keeping us here without complaint.”

Bahkahr smiled, “Okay. We wait then. Big man looses.”

Semeion began to step forward, but Ischarus looked him off. “Fine. We wait here in a standoff until Granknog comes back. Don’t try anything stupid.” He’d rather they wait without the threat of violence, but Rhema had worked hard to create a way to recover the weapons. If that was able to succeed they’d be that much closer to avoiding conflict with the goblin tribe and recovering the light gray figure’s equipment.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 13, 2006)

The wait seemed to be eternal for the party.  The pair of goblin kin stood silently waiting in the midst of the party knowing that they had been outmaneuvered.  The party had taken up opposite positions with Ischarus and Rhema protecting the trail toward the goblin village and Semeion and Charis protecting the path away from the village.  Although they outnumbered the goblins two to one, there was still a need to be watchful and keep them at bay.

Eventually Granknog returned, toting a pair of swords.  He looked a bit ridiculous carrying the swords, for although they were normal sized swords for Ischarus and his companions they were about double the length of a sword designed for someone of Granknog’s more diminutive size.  As Granknog walked, he kept one sword resting precariously on his shoulder.  The other sword he tried to hold out before him and practiced maneuvering with it.  Of course, the weapon weighed more than weapons normally of his size.  The extra weight more than once brought the sword down to the ground.  When the tip stuck fast in the ground the hilt would drive itself into Granknog’s gut.  After coughing and evading the sharp blade of the sword resting on his shoulder, Gronknog would pull the tip of the blade out of the ground try again, only to have the same results a few steps later.

As Frang heard Granknog returning, he mumbled slightly under his breath so that nobody could hear him.  Even Bahkahr gave Frang a strange look.

Ischarus couldn’t help disputing with the smaller goblin at the mumble.  There was a sharp tone in his voice. “What’d you say, goblin?” 

Frang snarled at Ischarus, allowing his sharp teeth to show between his blue tinted lips.  Once Granknog had come into view Frang spoke loudly.  “I said that it is a shame Granknog only brought the swords back.  The true sacrifice contained armor, too.  It is displayed in our village as a testimony to our resilience and a sacrifice to our god to keep us safe.”

Rhema stood up straight.  She was intrigued by Frang’s words.  Ischarus turned to look at her and could tell that she had a plan scheming in her mind.  He stepped back as she stepped forward and approached the goblin.  “Careful what you wish for, Frang.  It could be arranged.”

Frang snarled again as Rhema threatened to touch him.  “Ha!  I’m not scared of your powers, witch.  Granknog is a weak-minded fool.  He’s sneaky, of course, but you cannot overcome my greatness with your sorcery.”

Rhema reached out with a single finger and held it a few inches away from Frang’s face.  His eyes glared down his pointed nose and he watched the tip of her finger.  As the finger drew near to her, he lunged forward and snapped at her finger.  His razor sharp teeth caught nothing but air as Rhema dodged his attack.  Before he could get out of the way, Rhema had her right hand underneath the goblin’s jaw in a firm grip.  She looked deep into his eyes and the two locked in a stare down for a few seconds.  No words were exchanged, but eventually Rhema smiled and pushed Frang back, releasing his jaw.

Frang glared at Rhema.  “I’d think twice about doing that to a goblin that has flayed more than one of your kind, witch.  If I had that suit of armor to prove it, you’d know the power that I speak of.”

Rhema smiled at Ischarus, exchanging a look with her oldest friend.  As she turned her back on Frang she added, “Fine.  Once Granknog has returned, we’ll exchange him for you.  You can go and get that leather armor that you are so proud of.  When you return, we’ll see how powerful I see you.”

A greedy look flashed through Frang’s eyes.  “Done.  And when I return, you shall feel the same force as the fool who was burned for the same arrogance that you now display.  When I have that armor, you will see my power!”

Granknog reached the party at the same time as Frang finished speaking.  His eyes shifted back and forth from Ischarus to Rhema and finally to Frang.  He held the swords out menacingly, one of the tips pointed at Ischarus and one of the tips pointed at Rhema.  “See?  These swords are clearly not of goblin make, and they are clearly not goblin sized.  And with these beautiful pieces of equipment I shall slice open your guts and expose your innards across the trail for the bear to find.”

Semeion approached from the other side of the trail, keeping an eye on Bahkahr while making Granknog chose between him and his other two targets.  The maneuver was a tactical ploy to remind him that they were still unbalanced as far as numbers were concerned.  “Be that as it may, Granknog, but we have arranged another deal with your associate.  He seems to think that if you have the swords and he has the leather armor then we will truly be intimidated.  While I likely doubt anything you or Frang could bring would intimidate us, it seems as though Frang would like an opportunity to try.”

Ischarus drew his sword out of its scabbard and used the tip of his sword to knock the blade pointed at him into the ground.  Granknog was unable to keep it from hitting the ground on account of its great weight for his small frame.  As the blade struck the ground, Ischarus spoke mockingly to Granknog.  “And just like these two were kept safe until you returned to prove your point, you will join Bahkahr over there until Frang returns.”

Granknog shrugged and lifted the heavy blade once more off of the ground.  An air of pleasure passed over the goblin’s face as the blade rose under his minimal control.  “It makes no matter.  Now that I have the swords, nothing can stop me.  If Frang needs the armor, who cares?”

Bahkahr stood between the goblins with a dumbfounded look upon his hairy face.  He raised a thick hand up to scratch his left hairy eyebrow and curled his lip on the left side of his mouth as he sucked in a deep breath.  Frang looked to Granknog as he focused intently upon the blades, allowing the rest of the world pass him by.  From Frang’s perspective Granknog was too impulsively self-absorbed into the blades to be of any good.  “You and those blades, Granknog.  Those blades will be the end of you, mark my words!  But once I have the armor from the human that we burned then you shall see what true power is, fool.”

Granknog broke out of his trance to offer a snarl to Frang and then smiled subtly.  “You think that you are so smart, but you’ll not be able to avoid being seen taking the armor.  My skills came in much more handy in borrowing these great blades than yours will in getting you the leather.”

Frang merely smiled and mumbled again.  This time the mumble was audible.  “Ruinous Fool.”  As he spoke he cast a quick glance to Ischarus and then looked to Rhema.  “If you’ll excuse me, I have a suit of leather to retrieve.  Then you will see exactly how powerful we can be.”

Rhema spit in Frang’s direction.  She was careful not to hit him with it.  “Go and get your precious treasure, goblin.  I can hardly wait to see your false power.”

Frang almost seemed to laugh as he smirked at Rhema’s words.  The goblin slipped past her just out of reach and replied to her bravado.  “Oh, you will see power.  You will see a power that slew the last arrogant human who met us.  And like him, I will make sure that your body is burned upon our stone slab.  And I will wear his leather armor as you are lit on fire!”

Rhema turned her back on Frang and let him disappear down the path.  Ischarus smiled once he was out of earshot.  Rhema knew the smile and she knew that Ischarus understood that she had used her power on Frang when she grabbed him by the jaw.  Frang was now obsessed with the leather much like Granknog was obsessed with the blades.  

She turned from Ischarus to look at the pair of goblin kin that were left.  Granknog seemed oblivious to the world around him and played joyfully with the much too large pair of swords.  He didn’t even seem to need to be guarded because he certainly didn’t seem to care that Ischarus was near him.  Bahkahr stood by his smaller kin, fascinated by Granknog’s play with the swords.  The swords would have looked natural in Bahkahr’s hands but Granknog was not about to give them up.

Charis left Semeion on the backside of the party and approached Rhema.  She whispered, “Alright, I trust that you and Ischarus know what you guys are doing.  But can you fill me in a bit?”

Rhema smiled and nodded to Ischarus.  She stepped back and turned around so that she faced away from the goblin pair and into the undergrowth of the woods.  Once Charis had turned with her she replied, “One of the powers that I possess allows me to create an obsession within someone.  Once they are obsessed, so long as they are not threatened they will do anything they can to get close to and claim the objects of their desire.  That is why I knew Granknog would get the swords.  I also knew that if he wanted to keep them without getting into trouble he would find a way to do it without alerting the rest of his goblin clan.”

Charis smiled.  “So then you did the same thing within Frang?”

Rhema nodded.  “Yep.  At this moment his mind should be obsessing over how he can get the leather armor away from his clan without getting caught.  I only hope he is up to the task as much as Granknog apparently was.”

Chairs smiled in understanding and appreciation for Rhema’s ability to manipulate these weaker minded opponents.  “But why do we want them to get it?  And who is this person that they killed to get this armor?”

Rhema nodded, realizing for the first time that neither Charis nor Semeion knew about the light gray figure that she and Ischarus had met in the woods.  Rhema turned to look over her shoulder and make sure that the goblins were behaving.  Once she was sure that they weren’t up to anything foolish, she motioned for Charis to follow her.  Together they approached Semeion and while they waited for Frang to return Rhema explained to Charis and Semeion what they had learned in the forest.

After what seemed an eternity equal to that which they had spent waiting for Granknog to return, the party finally heard Frang coming down the trail.  Once he was in view, they could see that he had the leather armor in tow.  He was smiling broadly from ear to ear and a greedy twinkle flashed through his eyes.  As he approached the party he stepped in beside Granknog and Bahkahr.  His smile vanished and his look of greed transmuted into a sly devious scowl.  As best he could, he tossed the leather armor at the feet of Rhema.

Rhema looked to him, unsure of what he was doing.  Granknog was only now coming out from under the effects of her charm; Frang shouldn’t want to part with the leather armor for a good while yet.  She crouched down and caught the leather collar in her hand.  

As she stood, Frang began to laugh and explain her smile.  “I promised you power, and I promised that you would see it, human.”  The goblin spoke defiantly now.  Something was wrong.  Semeion, Charis, and Ischarus all looked to Rhema for understanding, but Rhema had none.  Her heart rate accelerated as the goblin spoke.  “I give you the power that killed the human whose things we brought to you.”

The undergrowth around them began to rustle and Rhema knew what was happening.  It was too late.  Her eyes flashed wide with understanding as over twenty goblins emerged around them from within the undergrowth.  They had been double-crossed.  Her attempt to control Frang had failed and Frang had beaten her in her own game.  Frang had understood from the beginning what she did to Granknog, and had used that knowledge against her!

The sound of steel rang out as every one of the goblins and their larger kin were instantly armed.   Everyone, including the party, were sweating, breathing hard, and judging their opponents.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
The wait seemed to be eternal for the party. The pair of goblin kin stood silently waiting in the midst of the party knowing that they had been outmaneuvered. The party had taken up opposite positions with Ischarus and Rhema protecting the trail toward the goblin village and Semeion and Charis protecting the path away from the village. Although they outnumbered the goblins two to one, there was still a need to be watchful and keep them at bay.

Eventually Granknog returned, toting a pair of swords. He looked a bit ridiculous carrying the swords, for although they were normal sized swords for Ischarus and his companions they were about double the length of a sword designed for someone of Granknog’s more diminutive size. As Granknog walked, he kept one sword resting precariously on his shoulder. The other sword he tried to hold out before him and practiced maneuvering with it. Of course, the weapon weighed more than weapons normally of his size. The extra weight more than once brought the sword down to the ground. When the tip stuck fast in the ground the hilt would drive itself into Granknog’s gut. After coughing and evading the sharp blade of the sword resting on his shoulder, Gronknog would pull the tip of the blade out of the ground try again, only to have the same results a few steps later.

As Frang heard Granknog returning, he mumbled slightly under his breath so that nobody could hear him. Even Bahkahr gave Frang a strange look.

Ischarus couldn’t help disputing with the smaller goblin at the mumble. There was a sharp tone in his voice. “What’d you say, goblin?” 

Frang snarled at Ischarus, allowing his sharp teeth to show between his blue tinted lips. Once Granknog had come into view Frang spoke loudly. “I said that it is a shame Granknog only brought the swords back. The true sacrifice contained armor, too. It is displayed in our village as a testimony to our resilience and a sacrifice to our god to keep us safe.”

Rhema stood up straight. She was intrigued by Frang’s words. Ischarus turned to look at her and could tell that she had a plan scheming in her mind. He stepped back as she stepped forward and approached the goblin. “Careful what you wish for, Frang. It could be arranged.”

Frang snarled again as Rhema threatened to touch him. “Ha! I’m not scared of your powers, witch. Granknog is a weak-minded fool. He’s sneaky, of course, but you cannot overcome my greatness with your sorcery.”

Rhema reached out with a single finger and held it a few inches away from Frang’s face. His eyes glared down his pointed nose and he watched the tip of her finger. As the finger drew near to her, he lunged forward and snapped at her finger. His razor sharp teeth caught nothing but air as Rhema dodged his attack. Before he could get out of the way, Rhema had her right hand underneath the goblin’s jaw in a firm grip. She looked deep into his eyes and the two locked in a stare down for a few seconds. No words were exchanged, but eventually Rhema smiled and pushed Frang back, releasing his jaw.

Frang glared at Rhema. “I’d think twice about doing that to a goblin that has flayed more than one of your kind, witch. If I had that suit of armor to prove it, you’d know the power that I speak of.”

Rhema smiled at Ischarus, exchanging a look with her oldest friend. As she turned her back on Frang she added, “Fine. Once Granknog has returned, we’ll exchange him for you. You can go and get that leather armor that you are so proud of. When you return, we’ll see how powerful I see you.”

A greedy look flashed through Frang’s eyes. “Done. And when I return, you shall feel the same force as the fool who was burned for the same arrogance that you now display. When I have that armor, you will see my power!”

Granknog reached the party at the same time as Frang finished speaking. His eyes shifted back and forth from Ischarus to Rhema and finally to Frang. He held the swords out menacingly, one of the tips pointed at Ischarus and one of the tips pointed at Rhema. “See? These swords are clearly not of goblin make, and they are clearly not goblin sized. And with these beautiful pieces of equipment I shall slice open your guts and expose your innards across the trail for the bear to find.”

Semeion approached from the other side of the trail, keeping an eye on Bahkahr while making Granknog chose between him and his other two targets. The maneuver was a tactical ploy to remind him that they were still unbalanced as far as numbers were concerned. “Be that as it may, Granknog, but we have arranged another deal with your associate. He seems to think that if you have the swords and he has the leather armor then we will truly be intimidated. While I likely doubt anything you or Frang could bring would intimidate us, it seems as though Frang would like an opportunity to try.”

Ischarus drew his sword out of its scabbard and used the tip of his sword to knock the blade pointed at him into the ground. Granknog was unable to keep it from hitting the ground on account of its great weight for his small frame. As the blade struck the ground, Ischarus spoke mockingly to Granknog. “And just like these two were kept safe until you returned to prove your point, you will join Bahkahr over there until Frang returns.”

Granknog shrugged and lifted the heavy blade once more off of the ground. An air of pleasure passed over the goblin’s face as the blade rose under his minimal control. “It makes no matter. Now that I have the swords, nothing can stop me. If Frang needs the armor, who cares?”

Bahkahr stood between the goblins with a dumbfounded look upon his hairy face. He raised a thick hand up to scratch his left hairy eyebrow and curled his lip on the left side of his mouth as he sucked in a deep breath. Frang looked to Granknog as he focused intently upon the blades, allowing the rest of the world pass him by. From Frang’s perspective Granknog was too impulsively self-absorbed into the blades to be of any good. “You and those blades, Granknog. Those blades will be the end of you, mark my words! But once I have the armor from the human that we burned then you shall see what true power is, fool.”

Granknog broke out of his trance to offer a snarl to Frang and then smiled subtly. “You think that you are so smart, but you’ll not be able to avoid being seen taking the armor. My skills came in much more handy in borrowing these great blades than yours will in getting you the leather.”

Frang merely smiled and mumbled again. This time the mumble was audible. “Ruinous Fool.” As he spoke he cast a quick glance to Ischarus and then looked to Rhema. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a suit of leather to retrieve. Then you will see exactly how powerful we can be.”

Rhema spit in Frang’s direction. She was careful not to hit him with it. “Go and get your precious treasure, goblin. I can hardly wait to see your false power.”

Frang almost seemed to laugh as he smirked at Rhema’s words. The goblin slipped past her just out of reach and replied to her bravado. “Oh, you will see power. You will see a power that slew the last arrogant human who met us. And like him, I will make sure that your body is burned upon our stone slab. And I will wear his leather armor as you are lit on fire!”

Rhema turned her back on Frang and let him disappear down the path. Ischarus smiled once he was out of earshot. Rhema knew the smile and she knew that Ischarus understood that she had used her power on Frang when she grabbed him by the jaw. Frang was now obsessed with the leather much like Granknog was obsessed with the blades. 

She turned from Ischarus to look at the pair of goblin kin that were left. Granknog seemed oblivious to the world around him and played joyfully with the much too large pair of swords. He didn’t even seem to need to be guarded because he certainly didn’t seem to care that Ischarus was near him. Bahkahr stood by his smaller kin, fascinated by Granknog’s play with the swords. The swords would have looked natural in Bahkahr’s hands but Granknog was not about to give them up.

Charis left Semeion on the backside of the party and approached Rhema. She whispered, “Alright, I trust that you and Ischarus know what you guys are doing. But can you fill me in a bit?”

Rhema smiled and nodded to Ischarus. She stepped back and turned around so that she faced away from the goblin pair and into the undergrowth of the woods. Once Charis had turned with her she replied, “One of the powers that I possess allows me to create an obsession within someone. Once they are obsessed, so long as they are not threatened they will do anything they can to get close to and claim the objects of their desire. That is why I knew Granknog would get the swords. I also knew that if he wanted to keep them without getting into trouble he would find a way to do it without alerting the rest of his goblin clan.”

Charis smiled. “So then you did the same thing within Frang?”

Rhema nodded. “Yep. At this moment his mind should be obsessing over how he can get the leather armor away from his clan without getting caught. I only hope he is up to the task as much as Granknog apparently was.”

Chairs smiled in understanding and appreciation for Rhema’s ability to manipulate these weaker minded opponents. “But why do we want them to get it? And who is this person that they killed to get this armor?”

Rhema nodded, realizing for the first time that neither Charis nor Semeion knew about the light gray figure that she and Ischarus had met in the woods. Rhema turned to look over her shoulder and make sure that the goblins were behaving. Once she was sure that they weren’t up to anything foolish, she motioned for Charis to follow her. Together they approached Semeion and while they waited for Frang to return Rhema explained to Charis and Semeion what they had learned in the forest.

After what seemed an eternity equal to that which they had spent waiting for Granknog to return, the party finally heard Frang coming down the trail. Once he was in view, they could see that he had the leather armor in tow. He was smiling broadly from ear to ear and a greedy twinkle flashed through his eyes. As he approached the party he stepped in beside Granknog and Bahkahr. His smile vanished and his look of greed transmuted into a sly devious scowl. As best he could, he tossed the leather armor at the feet of Rhema.

Rhema looked to him, unsure of what he was doing. Granknog was only now coming out from under the effects of her charm; Frang shouldn’t want to part with the leather armor for a good while yet. She crouched down and caught the leather collar in her hand. 

As she stood, Frang began to laugh and explain her smile. “I promised you power, and I promised that you would see it, human.” The goblin spoke defiantly now. Something was wrong. Semeion, Charis, and Ischarus all looked to Rhema for understanding, but Rhema had none. Her heart rate accelerated as the goblin spoke. “I give you the power that killed the human whose things we brought to you.”

The undergrowth around them began to rustle and Rhema knew what was happening. It was too late. Her eyes flashed wide with understanding as over twenty goblins emerged around them from within the undergrowth. They had been double-crossed. Her attempt to control Frang had failed and Frang had beaten her in her own game. Frang had understood from the beginning what she did to Granknog, and had used that knowledge against her!

The sound of steel rang out as every one of the goblins and their larger kin were instantly armed. Everyone, including the party, were sweating, breathing hard, and judging their opponents.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 15, 2006)

As the goblin kin surrounded the party, each of the four thought about the best opportunity that they had for survival.  Ischarus was sure that he could take three or four out before he was consumed in the goblin rage.  He was even sure that Charis would be able to take a few out herself before falling prey to the onslaught.  But surely Rhema and Semeion didn’t have that much staying power.  Certainly they didn’t have the ability to wait that long.  Given what he knew about the last man to get captured by this tribe it didn’t make sense to surrender, either.

Rhema stood quietly, waiting for Ischarus’ initial move.  She knew that goblins weren’t the hardest minds to charm, but there were far too many for her to affect at once.  She might be able to charm one or two before she fell, but that certainly wouldn’t help matters.  There were far too many surrounding them and once she fell in battle her mind control simply wouldn’t help the others.

Semeion reached back into the recesses of his mind.  He had a couple of his energy balls to toss around, but the likelihood of him even standing up to one of the larger brutes was not very good.  He was sure that he could get one energy ball off, but even that one energy ball wouldn’t take down one of these goblin kin.  Even if he had tried to mount Thana and ride off he was sure that this horde could overwhelm the horse before she could pull away from them.

Charis gripped her pick tightly, waiting for the first of the goblins to come near her.  The odds were stacked against her and her friends, but only a few months ago she would never have guessed that she would be anything but a Provenience.  She had come so far and in such an unimaginable way.  There didn’t seem to be any way out of this situation, but her belief refused to lose hope.  She would go down swinging hard once it came to blows.

In a split second after the goblins had appeared and weapons were drawn the battle was joined.  The leader of the goblin mass screamed loudly in a blood curdling yell.  The rest of the goblins raised their primitive weapons and fangs were bared.  But suddenly Charis and her friends heard what could only be described as a miracle rising above them.

The goblin yell was countered by a scream of immediately unknown origin.  The scream rang through the forest and sounded not too dissimilar than a satisfied jaguar that had dragged its prey up a tree and was about to settle in for a hearty meal.  The sound originated directly above where Rhema was standing.  Before the goblins could make good on their own verbal war cry their eyes were distracted and drawn upward to find the source of the scream.

The goblin war party was silent for a few seconds as they frantically searched the sky above them.  The strange cry echoed off of the nearby hills, but except for the eerie echo the forest stood silent while the goblins searched.  Ischarus and Charis both contemplated reaching out in anger and grasping the upper hand with a first attack, but both thought better of the idea.  The occurrence of the scream was an odd enough coincidence that they decided that the effect it was having on the goblins shouldn’t be interrupted.

After a few seconds, a light gray image appeared above Rhema’s head.  The figure floated above Rhema, the bottom of its semi-transparent cloak floating through Rhema’s head as if being blown by a non-existent wind.  Clearly the image was not of this world as its clothing had no difficulty passing through Rhema’s flesh.  The face of the figure seemed to writhe in pain as it looked down upon the goblins.  Its hands were empty, but the bony fingers stretched out as if to be reaching intently to grasp some unknown object.  It hovered above Rhema for a second and then turned towards Granknog.  

The figure spoke in a shriek from beyond the grave.  “Those are mine!” The light gray figure howled, making it quite apparent that the hideous scream heard a few seconds ago had originated from the same mouth.  “You will return what is mine to my servants!”

At the first comment the majority of the smaller goblins simply dropped their weapons and retreated considerably.  They desired to flee the horrible apparition that had come upon their conflict.  They ran in fear and hoped that the old goblin adage would be true.  The key to surviving was not being the slowest goblin.

At the second command of the light gray figure the larger of the goblins decided to also drop their weapons out of fear and to turn tail and run.  They were able to withstand the first voice, but once the majority of their companions had fled they knew that they were the only remaining targets.  Ischarus couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of a half dozen large goblin kin turning tail and vanishing loudly into the undergrowth.

Soon there were only two goblins left.  Frang stood beside Granknog.  Even Bahkahr had enough sense to run away.  Granknog’s knees trembled as the wispy and semi-transparent light gray figure closed the distance and swooped down upon him.  The figure hovered lowly over top of the short goblin.  The goblin’s mouth hung open, exposing several rows of sharp teeth.

Frang spoke sharply to his goblin companion.  “Drop ‘em and go, Granknog.  We don’t need these anymore.”  Frang bolted as soon as he had spoken.

Granknog didn’t need any other encouragement.  Once Frang had turned tail and fled, Granknog was not about to stay and be the last one at the scene.  The oversized blades fell from his hand and the goblin turned and vanished through the undergrowth.  A soft chuckle could be heard through the air as the light gray figure seemed amused.

Charis and Semeion weren’t sure at all what to make of this latest development, but they took their cues from the much more calm Ischarus and Rhema.  Semeion spoke cautiously at first.  “So does somebody want to explain to me what just happened?”

Ischarus smiled, realizing that Semeion and Charis were still in the dark as to this being the figure that they had met earlier.  He reached down to retrieve the weapons that Granknog had discarded.  Before he could speak, however, the light gray figure settled down to the ground and pointed away from the direction the goblins had run.  “We must go, and hurry.  This tribe scares easy the first time, but they’ll eventually forget why they ran and realize that they had the numbers advantage.  They’ll likely come back in greater numbers and with more fierce weapons.  I’ll not be able to catch them off guard another time.”

Ischarus realized that the figure had pointed them in the direction that they had come from.  He shook his head slowly.  “I know that you want us to deliver these items, and I know that this is a significant quest for you to undertake.  But we’re here on our own mission, and our destination lies to the west.  We aren’t going through those mountains until we’ve paid a certain red dragon’s village a visit.”

The figure nodded, as if understanding precisely how to handle this.  “Very well.  It seems like the recovery of my items is not enough to release me from this world anyway.  You have kept your word; I will lead you through the goblin’s land to the other side.”

Rhema smiled as she mounted Shauvry.  “Well, perhaps there is a way that you can repay us for doing you this favor.”

Charis and Semeion still exchanged lost glances, realizing that they were only getting bits and pieces of the story.  They knew that this was unlikely to change any time soon until they had all agreed on one plan of attack.  However, since Rhema had mounted Shauvry it meant that they would be headed out shortly.  They mounted Abijou and Thana respectively, content to listen and glean what they could until the whole story had been explained to them.

The light gray figure seemed to laugh and replied to Rhema, “You mean besides getting you free from a goblin war party?”

Ischarus had been waiting for that comment.  “A war party that we wouldn’t have faced had we not been doing a favor for you!”

Rhema grinned even broader.  As she spurred Shauvry into motion she continued, “So anyway, about this favor that you now owe us.”  She laughed as Shauvry jerked into motion.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
As the goblin kin surrounded the party, each of the four thought about the best opportunity that they had for survival. Ischarus was sure that he could take three or four out before he was consumed in the goblin rage. He was even sure that Charis would be able to take a few out herself before falling prey to the onslaught. But surely Rhema and Semeion didn’t have that much staying power. Certainly they didn’t have the ability to wait that long. Given what he knew about the last man to get captured by this tribe it didn’t make sense to surrender, either.

Rhema stood quietly, waiting for Ischarus’ initial move. She knew that goblins weren’t the hardest minds to charm, but there were far too many for her to affect at once. She might be able to charm one or two before she fell, but that certainly wouldn’t help matters. There were far too many surrounding them and once she fell in battle her mind control simply wouldn’t help the others.

Semeion reached back into the recesses of his mind. He had a couple of his energy balls to toss around, but the likelihood of him even standing up to one of the larger brutes was not very good. He was sure that he could get one energy ball off, but even that one energy ball wouldn’t take down one of these goblin kin. Even if he had tried to mount Thana and ride off he was sure that this horde could overwhelm the horse before she could pull away from them.

Charis gripped her pick tightly, waiting for the first of the goblins to come near her. The odds were stacked against her and her friends, but only a few months ago she would never have guessed that she would be anything but a Provenience. She had come so far and in such an unimaginable way. There didn’t seem to be any way out of this situation, but her belief refused to lose hope. She would go down swinging hard once it came to blows.

In a split second after the goblins had appeared and weapons were drawn the battle was joined. The leader of the goblin mass screamed loudly in a blood curdling yell. The rest of the goblins raised their primitive weapons and fangs were bared. But suddenly Charis and her friends heard what could only be described as a miracle rising above them.

The goblin yell was countered by a scream of immediately unknown origin. The scream rang through the forest and sounded not too dissimilar than a satisfied jaguar that had dragged its prey up a tree and was about to settle in for a hearty meal. The sound originated directly above where Rhema was standing. Before the goblins could make good on their own verbal war cry their eyes were distracted and drawn upward to find the source of the scream.

The goblin war party was silent for a few seconds as they frantically searched the sky above them. The strange cry echoed off of the nearby hills, but except for the eerie echo the forest stood silent while the goblins searched. Ischarus and Charis both contemplated reaching out in anger and grasping the upper hand with a first attack, but both thought better of the idea. The occurrence of the scream was an odd enough coincidence that they decided that the effect it was having on the goblins shouldn’t be interrupted.

After a few seconds, a light gray image appeared above Rhema’s head. The figure floated above Rhema, the bottom of its semi-transparent cloak floating through Rhema’s head as if being blown by a non-existent wind. Clearly the image was not of this world as its clothing had no difficulty passing through Rhema’s flesh. The face of the figure seemed to writhe in pain as it looked down upon the goblins. Its hands were empty, but the bony fingers stretched out as if to be reaching intently to grasp some unknown object. It hovered above Rhema for a second and then turned towards Granknog. 

The figure spoke in a shriek from beyond the grave. “Those are mine!” The light gray figure howled, making it quite apparent that the hideous scream heard a few seconds ago had originated from the same mouth. “You will return what is mine to my servants!”

At the first comment the majority of the smaller goblins simply dropped their weapons and retreated considerably. They desired to flee the horrible apparition that had come upon their conflict. They ran in fear and hoped that the old goblin adage would be true. The key to surviving was not being the slowest goblin.

At the second command of the light gray figure the larger of the goblins decided to also drop their weapons out of fear and to turn tail and run. They were able to withstand the first voice, but once the majority of their companions had fled they knew that they were the only remaining targets. Ischarus couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of a half dozen large goblin kin turning tail and vanishing loudly into the undergrowth.

Soon there were only two goblins left. Frang stood beside Granknog. Even Bahkahr had enough sense to run away. Granknog’s knees trembled as the wispy and semi-transparent light gray figure closed the distance and swooped down upon him. The figure hovered lowly over top of the short goblin. The goblin’s mouth hung open, exposing several rows of sharp teeth.

Frang spoke sharply to his goblin companion. “Drop ‘em and go, Granknog. We don’t need these anymore.” Frang bolted as soon as he had spoken.

Granknog didn’t need any other encouragement. Once Frang had turned tail and fled, Granknog was not about to stay and be the last one at the scene. The oversized blades fell from his hand and the goblin turned and vanished through the undergrowth. A soft chuckle could be heard through the air as the light gray figure seemed amused.

Charis and Semeion weren’t sure at all what to make of this latest development, but they took their cues from the much more calm Ischarus and Rhema. Semeion spoke cautiously at first. “So does somebody want to explain to me what just happened?”

Ischarus smiled, realizing that Semeion and Charis were still in the dark as to this being the figure that they had met earlier. He reached down to retrieve the weapons that Granknog had discarded. Before he could speak, however, the light gray figure settled down to the ground and pointed away from the direction the goblins had run. “We must go, and hurry. This tribe scares easy the first time, but they’ll eventually forget why they ran and realize that they had the numbers advantage. They’ll likely come back in greater numbers and with more fierce weapons. I’ll not be able to catch them off guard another time.”

Ischarus realized that the figure had pointed them in the direction that they had come from. He shook his head slowly. “I know that you want us to deliver these items, and I know that this is a significant quest for you to undertake. But we’re here on our own mission, and our destination lies to the west. We aren’t going through those mountains until we’ve paid a certain red dragon’s village a visit.”

The figure nodded, as if understanding precisely how to handle this. “Very well. It seems like the recovery of my items is not enough to release me from this world anyway. You have kept your word; I will lead you through the goblin’s land to the other side.”

Rhema smiled as she mounted Shauvry. “Well, perhaps there is a way that you can repay us for doing you this favor.”

Charis and Semeion still exchanged lost glances, realizing that they were only getting bits and pieces of the story. They knew that this was unlikely to change any time soon until they had all agreed on one plan of attack. However, since Rhema had mounted Shauvry it meant that they would be headed out shortly. They mounted Abijou and Thana respectively, content to listen and glean what they could until the whole story had been explained to them.

The light gray figure seemed to laugh and replied to Rhema, “You mean besides getting you free from a goblin war party?”

Ischarus had been waiting for that comment. “A war party that we wouldn’t have faced had we not been doing a favor for you!”

Rhema grinned even broader. As she spurred Shauvry into motion she continued, “So anyway, about this favor that you now owe us.” She laughed as Shauvry jerked into motion.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 17, 2006)

Semeion laughed as Rhema pressed the issue.  He slowly shook his head, assuming that her charming personality wouldn’t work on what seemed to be a ghost.  But then again, he still hadn’t gotten the whole story about who this figure was and why the swords and armor were so important.  Perhaps there was more to this story than appeared on the surface.

The light gray figured seemed to will its movement into existence.  The figure did not simulate walking or even swinging its arms.  Rather, it merely levitated several inched off of the ground and slid itself forward into motion.  Occasionally the figure would have to pass through trees, braches, and an occasional rock face.  Each of these things didn’t hamper the figure in the slightest.  The smaller saplings would simply pass right through it.  Or, perhaps it was the figure that would simply pass right through the saplings.  

In the case of the larger trees or the rock outcroppings, part or all of the entire figure would vanish for a second or two and then emerge out the other side as if nothing had happened.  It took the party a bit of time to become familiar with this odd type of movement.  But after traveling with the figure for several miles, their minds became immune to feeling the need to tell the figure to watch out for an upcoming tree or rock.

Rhema continued to talk to the figure about the need to help one another and exchange favors.  “So you see, although we had helped you first and you likewise helped us get out of the fix we were in because of helping you in the first place, we could use a bit of a favor in return.  You’re already familiar with the red wyrm Grixanthrosilithiss and his territory.  Well, several months ago we interrupted his next phase toward world domination.  We stole his Provenience.”  Rhema pointed over her shoulder with her thumb back toward Charis.

The ghostly figure responded in shock.  “You stole a Provenience?  That’s simply amazing.  And you escaped with your lives nonetheless!  So why do you want to return to the dragon’s land?”

Rhema continued to speak to the figure.  “It would seem that the dragon was not altogether pleased with our adventure.  He kept what few remaining loyal servants he had and more than likely sent them into the tunnels underneath the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains in order to round up any villagers who had fled but were having difficulty navigating the mountainous tunnels.  Once he had managed to regain some means for control over his remaining people and formulated a new plan for the repopulation of his Drakontai, he sent several thugs after us.  They wanted nothing more than to obtain both revenge and Charis on account of her apparent treachery.  During the interrogation of one of the thugs that the red wyrm sent after us, we discovered that the original plans of the wyrm are still in the process of coming to fruition.  He has the means and the desire to populate an army of half-breed children to take over more land.”

Ischarus continued where Rhema left off.  “Yes, and knowing the greed of the average red wyrm he’ll likely not be satisfied until he has made an entire claim on all of Quehalost.  Should he ever realize even a portion of that dream it will be too late to stop him.”

The light gray figure nodded as he drifted just above the ground.  “Agreed.  The reason that the rest of the world continues to exist is because the flux of evil in Quehalost.  Should the evil ever become organized and mount an offensive against the rest of the land all but Barghost would certainly fall quickly.  Barghost would only survive long if the holy divine agents would break their code against direct interference.”

Charis looked puzzled for a moment.  “Barghost?  The region to the east of Tongra?  They have special claim to the divine agents?”  She had only heard of Barghost in passing.  Even then it was only since she had left the region of Quehalost and learned a new life at the villa where she had heard mention of Barghost.  Largely on account of her lack of understanding, her question had a simple tone of hurt within it.  

Ischarus immediately knew the source for her confusion and hurt and began to explain and set the record straight.  “In a way, Charis.  That is not to say that evil does not exist in Barghost.  And that is certainly not to say that terrestrial divine agents can only be found there.  But Barghost is to holy what Quehalost is to evil.  The only difference is that in Quehalost the evil fights against itself for control of this land.  In Barghost the divine agents have a pact with the natives of the land which specifies guidance and non-direct interference.  The affairs of the people in Barghost are up to them to decide.  They may seek the divine for influence and guidance, but that is all.”

Charis wrinkled her eyebrows and brought up her hand to run it through her hair while she thought.  “So the land of Barghost is good and holy, is that what you are telling me?”

Semeion laughed.  “A more fair question to ask is if anything good can come out of Quehalost.”

Charis turned to look over her shoulder at him.  She gave him an odd look of questioning as if she was trying to figure out if the question was for real or not.  In reply, Semeion gestured with an open palm and returned Charis’ look with an interested expression of his own.  “Well?”

Charis smiled, still a bit confused.  “I am from Quehalost!”

Rhema and Ischarus chuckled audibly, amused at Charis’ slight offense at Semeion’s question.  They were also amused by the way that she had phrased her reply.  No doubt as Semeion had intended, Rhema had taken Semeion’s question more personally than intended.  It was likely Semeion’s goal to accomplish such a stance with Charis.

The light gray figure paused as it passed through a significantly large birch tree beside the path.  It allowed Rhema’s horse to pass by.  As Charis’ horse passed by the same birch tree, the figure popped out of the birch tree and continued gliding along the surface of the ground.  It kept pace with Charis for the time being.  “I believe, madam, that you have discovered the young man’s point.”

Charis jumped out of her saddle nearly an inch as the figure startled her.  She had been looking over her right shoulder, so she hadn’t noticed when he stopped on her left side and then followed her so closely.  Charis could hear the chuckle of Semeion behind her and she responded to the ghostly figure with a question of her own.  “He wanted me to take his question personally?”

Semeion responded in the third person regarding himself before the light gray figure could reply.  “He wanted you to answer your own question.  Barghost has as much of a tendency to produce citizens leaning toward holiness as Quehalost has in producing denizens leaning toward the greed and selfishness that comes from evil.  But among the great evil that is known to be Quehalost you were found!  You refused to be selfish and were willing to offer yourself up in sacrifice to help your people.  Granted, it wouldn’t have worked, but it was the best plan that you could come up with given what you had.  You’re not evil, yet you came from Quehalost!”

Charis nodded as she followed his reasoning.  “So the average person in Barghost will lean to holiness.  But evil is possible.”

Rhema smiled as Charis worked the logic through in her head.  Ischarus replied to the conversation that was happening behind him.  “In fact, I am willing to assert that when you find evil in Barghost it will be a most heinous kind.  It would have to be extremely wicked to survive in Barghost without being crushed under the holiness.  Much like any good that is found in Quehalost is typically quite sacred.  It would have to be impressively sacred to survive the atrocious evil that exists here.” 

Rhema smiled again as Ischarus spoke.  He always had a way of speaking clearly while still magnifying the contrasting sides of right and wrong.  She knew that Ischarus largely saw the world in white and black with little shade of gray.  In this respect his religion served him well.  She preferred to see shades of gray, but she respected Ischarus for the clarity of vision that he could sometimes speak towards.

Charis replied quickly to all of her mentors.  “Thank you, all.  Both for the …”

Suddenly a dark gray blur flashed before her eyes.  It startled Charis enough that she forgot what exactly she was saying.  It leapt up from the ground and knocked her from her saddle.  In a moment she had her pick drawn and ready to return the attack.  Another blur, this one black, leapt for Rhema and knocked her to the ground.  Rhema found herself trapped under the paws of an enormous black wolf with green eyes.

Thana reared back, nearly throwing Semeion to the ground.  To keep from falling, he rose to a standing position in the saddle and pressed his body against the neck of the rising horse.  As Thana returned to the ground he could see that the two women had already been knocked out of their saddles and were struggling under the attack of the large wolves.

As the large wolves attacked, their ferocious snarls alerted Ischarus that trouble was brewing.  He spun Elistra around and saw the beasts.  In a moment, he was out of his own saddle.  His weapon was in his hand as his feet hit the ground.  He strode toward the wolf that had pinned Rhema to the ground and he heard the creature speak.

The wolf was apparently addressing Ischarus.  “Come no further or she dies feeling my teeth ripping out her neck.”  The black wolf’s head turned to face Ischarus and he felt himself caught momentarily by the eerily glowing green eyes.

Semeion took no notice of the monstrous wolf’s warning as it spoke to Ischarus.  Instantly he conjured up the words he longed to use and then spoke them with authority now that Thana had settled beneath him.  “Thin-tok.”  The words passed through his lips easily, and as the bright blue energy cascaded across his fingers he sent the charged ball directly into the side of the beast.  The black haired wolf yelped slightly, but it maintained his position over Rhema.

Ischarus let out a low growl.  At the end of his growl he smiled and muttered some magical words of his own.  “Ahthach-gat”  As he pointed a finger at the wolf standing atop Rhema, a murky haze developed over the creature.  The wolf appeared to grow weaker as the haze was absorbed into its body.  When the haze had done its work, the creature still appeared ferocious, but much less able to put any hurt on Rhema.

Even though she was pinned, Rhema knew that she did not need her hands to work her best attack.  She focused on the wolf as it recovered from Ischarus’ murky haze.  Suddenly the large wolf let out another yelp.  It had been attacked by a sharp force coming from beneath it, yet the wolf knew that it had Rhema trapped.  The creature looked down at Rhema as if surprised to find that she was still largely pinned underneath him.  Her hands had not produced the attack of force that he felt.

The wolf returned Rhema’s attack with one of its own.  As it attempted to strike the woman pinned underneath it, the wolf found that Ischarus’ attack had reduced its ability to fight significantly.  Its teeth sunk into Rhema’s shoulder area but it was unable to bite hard enough to penetrate her clothing.  The beast released its bite and made a licking motion as if to remove fabric fibers from its tongue and mouth.

Semeion drew out one of his daggers, knowing that to throw it now would not in turn arm the enemy.  From on top of Thana he released the dagger.  It sailed through the air but missed the wolf completely as it flew too high.  Semeion turned to see how Charis was fairing with the other wolf.

As Semeion turned, Ischarus continued his assault on the creature on top of Rhema.  He noticed that on account of his weakening spell the wolf had trouble attacking as it had planned.  With the immediate fear of life-ending danger slightly removed, Ischarus didn’t think twice about finishing his approach.  His steel blade sliced through the air with a dramatic rush and the wolf yelped out in pain as steel cut through its thick coat and into its flesh.  As Ischarus lifted his blade back into the air for another swing he noticed that the blade had been significantly bloodied.

Rhema took advantage once more of the strike from Ischarus and focused her mental powers upon the beast.  Again the wolf yelped out in pain as a surprise attack came from below.  Rhema was gratified that she had been able to take the wolf by surprise twice now.  She hoped that perhaps her tactics would spook the beast.

The green eyed wolf knew that it was quickly losing its ability to stay on top of the fight.  For that matter, it was struggling to simply stay on top of Rhema.  It leapt into the air off of Rhema.  In a moment it was gone.  The only thing that remained was a crashing sound passing through the undergrowth.  Once it had gone several paces, Ischarus and Rhema both heard it call back to its partner in a speech unknown to either of them.  The call was followed by a quick howl.

As the fight over Rhema was going well, Charis found herself in a single duel against the gray haired wolf that had knocked her out of her own saddle.  This wolf’s eyes glowed green as had the other wolf’s eyes.  At the beast’s approach Abijou wisely retreated to a much safer distance.  Charis stepped toward the wolf and connected with a solid blow.  The pointed end of her pick struggled to find its way through the thick mat of fur, but the solid blow had been landed nonetheless.

As Charis swung her arms, the wolf sprang forward and snapped hard at Rhema.  The creature’s powerful jaws snapped shut and found nothing but air.  Charis had watched the attack coming and knew that she had to move her forearm out of harm’s way.  It was only a split second difference between safety and a bloodied forearm.  Fortunately, her reflexes were still good.  The only damage that she found herself in was a slight spray of the creature’s spit as the jaws closed empty.

Charis struck out another blow, but this time the wolf ducked low.  As Charis twisted with the motion of the pick the wolf returned the blow with a strike at her thigh.  The powerful jaws of the beast found home this time.  Charis watched as the beast’s teeth bloodied her leg.  The creature seemed spurred on by the taste of blood until it heard the help and call from its partner.  As the other wolf bounded off and howled, the remaining creature licked its lips and turned to Charis.  “I’ve tasted your blood, Drakontos.  I know you’re not human and I promise you that I’ll be back to finish the meal.  Drakontos is some of my favorite flesh.”

Having finished its thought, the creature followed its partner and leapt into the woods to find its companion.  Once the threat had vanished, Semeion turned to Charis and asked, “Did it know you?”

Charis shook her head, not knowing the proper answer. She was just as confused as he was.  A few feet away from Semeion and Charis, Ischarus sheathed his sword and helped Rhema to her feet.  He turned her around and brushed grass and dirt off of the back of her traveling cloak.

The ghostly figure spoke so that all could hear him.  “Froves.  They were big, mean, and nasty froves.  They are used by goblins to track their enemies.  The fact that we were caught by them means that the goblins are already in pursuit.  Their tactics were to delay us and I’ve seen this before.  You’ll note that the tactics worked.  We have been delayed already.  With any luck the smaller goblins won’t be riding atop the backs of other froves as mounts.  If we are unlucky, well, you all better move pretty quickly.”  The light gray figure had a worried look upon its face.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Semeion laughed as Rhema pressed the issue. He slowly shook his head, assuming that her charming personality wouldn’t work on what seemed to be a ghost. But then again, he still hadn’t gotten the whole story about who this figure was and why the swords and armor were so important. Perhaps there was more to this story than appeared on the surface.

The light gray figured seemed to will its movement into existence. The figure did not simulate walking or even swinging its arms. Rather, it merely levitated several inched off of the ground and slid itself forward into motion. Occasionally the figure would have to pass through trees, braches, and an occasional rock face. Each of these things didn’t hamper the figure in the slightest. The smaller saplings would simply pass right through it. Or, perhaps it was the figure that would simply pass right through the saplings. 

In the case of the larger trees or the rock outcroppings, part or all of the entire figure would vanish for a second or two and then emerge out the other side as if nothing had happened. It took the party a bit of time to become familiar with this odd type of movement. But after traveling with the figure for several miles, their minds became immune to feeling the need to tell the figure to watch out for an upcoming tree or rock.

Rhema continued to talk to the figure about the need to help one another and exchange favors. “So you see, although we had helped you first and you likewise helped us get out of the fix we were in because of helping you in the first place, we could use a bit of a favor in return. You’re already familiar with the red wyrm Grixanthrosilithiss and his territory. Well, several months ago we interrupted his next phase toward world domination. We stole his Provenience.” Rhema pointed over her shoulder with her thumb back toward Charis.

The ghostly figure responded in shock. “You stole a Provenience? That’s simply amazing. And you escaped with your lives nonetheless! So why do you want to return to the dragon’s land?”

Rhema continued to speak to the figure. “It would seem that the dragon was not altogether pleased with our adventure. He kept what few remaining loyal servants he had and more than likely sent them into the tunnels underneath the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains in order to round up any villagers who had fled but were having difficulty navigating the mountainous tunnels. Once he had managed to regain some means for control over his remaining people and formulated a new plan for the repopulation of his Drakontai, he sent several thugs after us. They wanted nothing more than to obtain both revenge and Charis on account of her apparent treachery. During the interrogation of one of the thugs that the red wyrm sent after us, we discovered that the original plans of the wyrm are still in the process of coming to fruition. He has the means and the desire to populate an army of half-breed children to take over more land.”

Ischarus continued where Rhema left off. “Yes, and knowing the greed of the average red wyrm he’ll likely not be satisfied until he has made an entire claim on all of Quehalost. Should he ever realize even a portion of that dream it will be too late to stop him.”

The light gray figure nodded as he drifted just above the ground. “Agreed. The reason that the rest of the world continues to exist is because the flux of evil in Quehalost. Should the evil ever become organized and mount an offensive against the rest of the land all but Barghost would certainly fall quickly. Barghost would only survive long if the holy divine agents would break their code against direct interference.”

Charis looked puzzled for a moment. “Barghost? The region to the east of Tongra? They have special claim to the divine agents?” She had only heard of Barghost in passing. Even then it was only since she had left the region of Quehalost and learned a new life at the villa where she had heard mention of Barghost. Largely on account of her lack of understanding, her question had a simple tone of hurt within it. 

Ischarus immediately knew the source for her confusion and hurt and began to explain and set the record straight. “In a way, Charis. That is not to say that evil does not exist in Barghost. And that is certainly not to say that terrestrial divine agents can only be found there. But Barghost is to holy what Quehalost is to evil. The only difference is that in Quehalost the evil fights against itself for control of this land. In Barghost the divine agents have a pact with the natives of the land which specifies guidance and non-direct interference. The affairs of the people in Barghost are up to them to decide. They may seek the divine for influence and guidance, but that is all.”

Charis wrinkled her eyebrows and brought up her hand to run it through her hair while she thought. “So the land of Barghost is good and holy, is that what you are telling me?”

Semeion laughed. “A more fair question to ask is if anything good can come out of Quehalost.”

Charis turned to look over her shoulder at him. She gave him an odd look of questioning as if she was trying to figure out if the question was for real or not. In reply, Semeion gestured with an open palm and returned Charis’ look with an interested expression of his own. “Well?”

Charis smiled, still a bit confused. “I am from Quehalost!”

Rhema and Ischarus chuckled audibly, amused at Charis’ slight offense at Semeion’s question. They were also amused by the way that she had phrased her reply. No doubt as Semeion had intended, Rhema had taken Semeion’s question more personally than intended. It was likely Semeion’s goal to accomplish such a stance with Charis.

The light gray figure paused as it passed through a significantly large birch tree beside the path. It allowed Rhema’s horse to pass by. As Charis’ horse passed by the same birch tree, the figure popped out of the birch tree and continued gliding along the surface of the ground. It kept pace with Charis for the time being. “I believe, madam, that you have discovered the young man’s point.”

Charis jumped out of her saddle nearly an inch as the figure startled her. She had been looking over her right shoulder, so she hadn’t noticed when he stopped on her left side and then followed her so closely. Charis could hear the chuckle of Semeion behind her and she responded to the ghostly figure with a question of her own. “He wanted me to take his question personally?”

Semeion responded in the third person regarding himself before the light gray figure could reply. “He wanted you to answer your own question. Barghost has as much of a tendency to produce citizens leaning toward holiness as Quehalost has in producing denizens leaning toward the greed and selfishness that comes from evil. But among the great evil that is known to be Quehalost you were found! You refused to be selfish and were willing to offer yourself up in sacrifice to help your people. Granted, it wouldn’t have worked, but it was the best plan that you could come up with given what you had. You’re not evil, yet you came from Quehalost!”

Charis nodded as she followed his reasoning. “So the average person in Barghost will lean to holiness. But evil is possible.”

Rhema smiled as Charis worked the logic through in her head. Ischarus replied to the conversation that was happening behind him. “In fact, I am willing to assert that when you find evil in Barghost it will be a most heinous kind. It would have to be extremely wicked to survive in Barghost without being crushed under the holiness. Much like any good that is found in Quehalost is typically quite sacred. It would have to be impressively sacred to survive the atrocious evil that exists here.” 

Rhema smiled again as Ischarus spoke. He always had a way of speaking clearly while still magnifying the contrasting sides of right and wrong. She knew that Ischarus largely saw the world in white and black with little shade of gray. In this respect his religion served him well. She preferred to see shades of gray, but she respected Ischarus for the clarity of vision that he could sometimes speak towards.

Charis replied quickly to all of her mentors. “Thank you, all. Both for the …”

Suddenly a dark gray blur flashed before her eyes. It startled Charis enough that she forgot what exactly she was saying. It leapt up from the ground and knocked her from her saddle. In a moment she had her pick drawn and ready to return the attack. Another blur, this one black, leapt for Rhema and knocked her to the ground. Rhema found herself trapped under the paws of an enormous black wolf with green eyes.

Thana reared back, nearly throwing Semeion to the ground. To keep from falling, he rose to a standing position in the saddle and pressed his body against the neck of the rising horse. As Thana returned to the ground he could see that the two women had already been knocked out of their saddles and were struggling under the attack of the large wolves.

As the large wolves attacked, their ferocious snarls alerted Ischarus that trouble was brewing. He spun Elistra around and saw the beasts. In a moment, he was out of his own saddle. His weapon was in his hand as his feet hit the ground. He strode toward the wolf that had pinned Rhema to the ground and he heard the creature speak.

The wolf was apparently addressing Ischarus. “Come no further or she dies feeling my teeth ripping out her neck.” The black wolf’s head turned to face Ischarus and he felt himself caught momentarily by the eerily glowing green eyes.

Semeion took no notice of the monstrous wolf’s warning as it spoke to Ischarus. Instantly he conjured up the words he longed to use and then spoke them with authority now that Thana had settled beneath him. “Thin-tok.” The words passed through his lips easily, and as the bright blue energy cascaded across his fingers he sent the charged ball directly into the side of the beast. The black haired wolf yelped slightly, but it maintained his position over Rhema.

Ischarus let out a low growl. At the end of his growl he smiled and muttered some magical words of his own. “Ahthach-gat” As he pointed a finger at the wolf standing atop Rhema, a murky haze developed over the creature. The wolf appeared to grow weaker as the haze was absorbed into its body. When the haze had done its work, the creature still appeared ferocious, but much less able to put any hurt on Rhema.

Even though she was pinned, Rhema knew that she did not need her hands to work her best attack. She focused on the wolf as it recovered from Ischarus’ murky haze. Suddenly the large wolf let out another yelp. It had been attacked by a sharp force coming from beneath it, yet the wolf knew that it had Rhema trapped. The creature looked down at Rhema as if surprised to find that she was still largely pinned underneath him. Her hands had not produced the attack of force that he felt.

The wolf returned Rhema’s attack with one of its own. As it attempted to strike the woman pinned underneath it, the wolf found that Ischarus’ attack had reduced its ability to fight significantly. Its teeth sunk into Rhema’s shoulder area but it was unable to bite hard enough to penetrate her clothing. The beast released its bite and made a licking motion as if to remove fabric fibers from its tongue and mouth.

Semeion drew out one of his daggers, knowing that to throw it now would not in turn arm the enemy. From on top of Thana he released the dagger. It sailed through the air but missed the wolf completely as it flew too high. Semeion turned to see how Charis was fairing with the other wolf.

As Semeion turned, Ischarus continued his assault on the creature on top of Rhema. He noticed that on account of his weakening spell the wolf had trouble attacking as it had planned. With the immediate fear of life-ending danger slightly removed, Ischarus didn’t think twice about finishing his approach. His steel blade sliced through the air with a dramatic rush and the wolf yelped out in pain as steel cut through its thick coat and into its flesh. As Ischarus lifted his blade back into the air for another swing he noticed that the blade had been significantly bloodied.

Rhema took advantage once more of the strike from Ischarus and focused her mental powers upon the beast. Again the wolf yelped out in pain as a surprise attack came from below. Rhema was gratified that she had been able to take the wolf by surprise twice now. She hoped that perhaps her tactics would spook the beast.

The green eyed wolf knew that it was quickly losing its ability to stay on top of the fight. For that matter, it was struggling to simply stay on top of Rhema. It leapt into the air off of Rhema. In a moment it was gone. The only thing that remained was a crashing sound passing through the undergrowth. Once it had gone several paces, Ischarus and Rhema both heard it call back to its partner in a speech unknown to either of them. The call was followed by a quick howl.

As the fight over Rhema was going well, Charis found herself in a single duel against the gray haired wolf that had knocked her out of her own saddle. This wolf’s eyes glowed green as had the other wolf’s eyes. At the beast’s approach Abijou wisely retreated to a much safer distance. Charis stepped toward the wolf and connected with a solid blow. The pointed end of her pick struggled to find its way through the thick mat of fur, but the solid blow had been landed nonetheless.

As Charis swung her arms, the wolf sprang forward and snapped hard at Rhema. The creature’s powerful jaws snapped shut and found nothing but air. Charis had watched the attack coming and knew that she had to move her forearm out of harm’s way. It was only a split second difference between safety and a bloodied forearm. Fortunately, her reflexes were still good. The only damage that she found herself in was a slight spray of the creature’s spit as the jaws closed empty.

Charis struck out another blow, but this time the wolf ducked low. As Charis twisted with the motion of the pick the wolf returned the blow with a strike at her thigh. The powerful jaws of the beast found home this time. Charis watched as the beast’s teeth bloodied her leg. The creature seemed spurred on by the taste of blood until it heard the help and call from its partner. As the other wolf bounded off and howled, the remaining creature licked its lips and turned to Charis. “I’ve tasted your blood, Drakontos. I know you’re not human and I promise you that I’ll be back to finish the meal. Drakontos is some of my favorite flesh.”

Having finished its thought, the creature followed its partner and leapt into the woods to find its companion. Once the threat had vanished, Semeion turned to Charis and asked, “Did it know you?”

Charis shook her head, not knowing the proper answer. She was just as confused as he was. A few feet away from Semeion and Charis, Ischarus sheathed his sword and helped Rhema to her feet. He turned her around and brushed grass and dirt off of the back of her traveling cloak.

The ghostly figure spoke so that all could hear him. “Froves. They were big, mean, and nasty froves. They are used by goblins to track their enemies. The fact that we were caught by them means that the goblins are already in pursuit. Their tactics were to delay us and I’ve seen this before. You’ll note that the tactics worked. We have been delayed already. With any luck the smaller goblins won’t be riding atop the backs of other froves as mounts. If we are unlucky, well, you all better move pretty quickly.” The light gray figure had a worried look upon its face.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 19, 2006)

As soon as the light-gray figure had spoken his omen, a howl echoed in the distance.  This echo had come from a slightly different direction than the area that the pair of froves had retreated to.  Another howl rang out after the first one had ended.  This second howl came from the same direction as the most recent one.

Charis looked to the ghostly figure and couldn’t help but confirm what she already knew.  “More froves?”

Ischarus nodded, spinning Elistra around to the direction he wanted to travel.  “Rhema, Semeion! Ride at the front and ride hard.  Charis and I will follow behind you and protect your rear flank.”

Ischarus pulled slightly on the reigns and Elistra edged off the trail.  Rhema spurred Shauvry into motion and Semeion spurred Thana behind her.  As both these riders sprang forth into movement and brushed past Elistra, Ischarus motioned for Charis to go next.  “I’ll go last.  Hurry!”

The gray figure looked at Ischarus.  “You know those howls?”

Ischarus smiled, and looked at the back of Charis.  His foot dug hard into the stirrup and then shot back into Elistra’s side.  The kick jolted his horse into movement.  The gray figure matched Ischarus’ pace and followed along as Ischarus replied to his inquiry.  “I don’t need to know those howls.  I know enough about wolves back home to recognize the call of the pack.  That’s what the two did when they retreated from our attack.  They were calling the pack and my guess is that this was the pack answering.”

The figure nodded as it continued to slide effortlessly above the ground.  “I fear you are correct.  I have heard those howls many times, and I believe they mean exactly what you say.”

Ischarus ducked under a low branch as he continued the conversation.  “If that is the case, those howls were not far off.  The pack is not far from closing in on our position.”

Ischarus dug in again and urged Elistra into greater speed.  As he did, he heard the yelping of exited dogs running in motion as they closed in on the foursome of horses.  Over top of the excited yelps Ischarus heard a voice calling out excitedly.

Ischarus stood in his saddle and yelled to the riders ahead of him with all of his strength.  “Hunting wolves closing!”  It was all Ischarus could get out of his mouth before he heard a crash of flesh through the forest behind him.  

A snarl erupted in sound from behind him on the path.  Ischarus could hear the snapping of a single jaw.  Soon there was another crash of underbrush and an excited yelp.  He thought he heard a similar voice as the one that had come from the frove that pinned Rhema to the ground.  This voice spoke in a language Ischarus did not understand.  The voice was answered by one of a much higher pitch.

This voice Ischarus recognized immediately even without turning to see it.  It was a goblin riding atop what he could only expect to be a frove.  By his count, there were two froves and a goblin behind.  Given their speed at closing in on the charging horses he knew that the froves were faster than the horses.  Running was less and less becoming an option.

His mind calculated the risks of fighting or being picked off one by one from the back.  Again he rose in his saddle and yelled loudly.  “Fight!”  Once Ischarus had yelled, he leaned hard on the reigns and turned Elistra around to face his pursuers.  As he went through the motions he noticed that he was wrong.  There was not just one goblin rider.  Each of the froves had a rider.

The nearest frove stopped short upon seeing Ischarus turn to face him.  As the frove planted its front feet, the goblin that was riding atop of was caught completely by surprise and it flew forward and planted itself headfirst into the side of Elistra.  The frove lunged forward in a bite, but Ischarus immediately turned it astray with the flat of his blade.  

The goblin that was still mounted upon a frove reached behind its back and brought forth and arrow.  The goblin snapped the arrow into place and sent it forward toward Ischarus.  From atop his horse, Ischarus ducked behind his shield and the arrow bounced off harmlessly.

While Ischarus was drawing the ire of the pursuers, Charis spun Abijou around and charged back toward Ischarus.  She unfastened her pick from her belt and raised the weapon in a windmill strike.  Back on Rhema’s father’s villa she had been taught a game played with a ball while being mounted in the saddle.  This would be little different if she timed it right.  Her goal was the goblin now lying at Elistra’s feet.  Unfortunately for Charis, the pick sailed high and missed the creature on account of the goblin’s short stature.

Rhema had also heard Ischarus call.  She spun Shauvry around and smirked as she watched her friends peel around launch into attacking formation.  She called forth her mental powers once more, although this time her goal wasn’t to harm the goblin mind she had entered.  She didn’t even desire to create an obsession like she had done with the goblins before.  “Look at me!”  Rhema commanded the fallen goblin that Charis had just missed with her hammer.  The goblin’s head snapped around on its shoulders and looked back at Rhema.  The expression on its face told Rhema all she needed to know.  “Charis, move on to a frove!  The goblin is mine!”  She turned her head to regain focus on the goblin.  “Come to me!”  The goblin hesitated, and then slowly walked towards Shauvry.

The frove that still maintained its rider snarled, and its lips parted in speech.  Neither Ischarus nor Charis understood the speech, but the goblin on top replied with its own voice in the same unfamiliar language.  The goblin slid off of the frove’s back and the frove leapt forward into action.  The beast sprang forward in an attempt to unhorse Ischarus.  The valiant fighter used his sword as a lever and deflected the frove to the ground.  The frove landed awkwardly on its back and exposed its more vulnerable belly to Ischarus.

Semeion pulled back hard on the reigns and caused Thana to rise up onto her hind legs.  As the horse rose up, Semeion also stood in the saddle and surveyed the battlefield.  He spotted a legitimate target.  He had used enough of his magic already today that he was averse to waste a spell unless it was necessary.  As the horse returned to the ground, Semeion dug into his stirrups and called Thana to charge.  “Hiya!” 

He had spotted a narrow opening between Charis and Ischarus and planned to charge through the gap on top of Thana.  As the horse broke into its move, the frove that had first attacked Ischarus managed to slip out of the way of the charging mount.  The goblin that had fired an arrow upon Ischarus couldn’t get out of the way.  The horse kicked hard at the goblin as it passed by.  The solid hooves struck the goblin twice.  One blow came from each front foot.  The goblin was bloodied and fell face first into the underbrush.  It didn’t move once it came to rest.

Ischarus smiled as Semeion used his mount to charge into action.  He looked down upon the frove that had tried to unhorse him as the beast struggled to right itself from its bad fall.  His sword slipped through the air, but the frove was able to twist out of the way.

The other frove turned and faced Charis.  She had been shifting Elistra into position for a strike.  The frove lunged up and bit at Charis’ foot but missed.  Instead the frove caught the bottom of Charis’ boot upon its jaw.  Charis returned the strike and managed to hit the frove with her pick before it could leap out of the way.

The frove gathered itself from the attack and leapt up again.  This time the green eyed beast caught Charis on her leg.  Red blood stained the maw of the frove and Charis’ stirrup dripped with blood.  The bite attack had been worse that what Charis had hoped would happen and as she dug her foot into Abijou’s side a bloody print of her calf and foot was left on the abdomen of the horse.  

Despite the frove’s attempt to drag her from the saddle, Charis twisted her pick in her hand and stuck again in anger.  Her blow drove the frove back to the ground, knocking it below Abijou’s feet.  As the frove fell to the ground it dipped and twisted through Abijou’s steps as it avoided being tread upon and trampled to death.  It was clear that this frove was experienced at fighting enemies from atop horses.

Semeion noticed that the fight was touch and go between Charis and the frove.  He spun Thana around and charged back alongside Charis.  He was careful to avoid her striking lanes as he rode by Abijou.  He let out a cheer as he rode along, alerting Charis that he was coming up behind her.  The frove managed to partially dodge Thana’s charge, although it was struck by one of Thana’s hooves.  Thana’s nostril’s flared as Semeion spun her around for another trampling run.  It seemed as though the horse was enjoying beating the froves with its mighty hooves.

The frove leapt up once more against Charis, but Charis took this attack much more seriously than the last one.  When the attack was over, the frove had a bloody impression of the bottom of Charis’ stirrup plastered across his nose.  Charis returned the strike and caught the frove behind its right front shoulder with the point of her pick.  The frove yelped in a bit of a howl and backed up to survey the battlefield.  As Semeion looked on, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was the goblins that were in charge of the froves or if the froves were the real brains behind the goblin tribe.

What the frove saw when it surveyed the battlefield was the effects of several blows traded from Ischarus and the other frove.  After Iscahrus missed the frove’s exposed underbelly, the frove rose to the ground and leapt once more trying to unhorse the rider.  Ischarus deftly spun Elistra around as the frove leapt and cause the frove to slam into the much more sturdy neck of Elistra.  The frove tumbled back to the ground and Ischarus followed the blow from Elistra’s muscular neck with one of his own.  His sword cut through the frove’s hair and a thin trail of blood appeared across the frove’s back.

The frove who was attacking Ischarus refused to give up and attacked again.  This time the frove connected and caught hold of Ischarus’ forearm just above where his shield protected him.  As the frove fell back to the ground, it clenched its teeth firmly in an attempt to unhorse Ischarus.  Ischarus yanked back, freeing his arm from the bloody maw of the frove.  The green eyed beast fell back to the ground and left a bloodied forearm behind in its wake.  Ischarus turned Elistra around so that the frove was again on his sword side.  Unfortunately his follow-up attack missed the frove high.

The frove leapt up again, staying on the sword side of Ischarus.  The jaw of the frove found nothing except the solid metal butt end of Ischarus’ hilt of his sword.  Ischarus quickly swung the sword down and caught the frove as he fell back to the ground.  Another trail of blood appeared within the thick mat of fur protecting the frove.  This cut was along his side.

The frove snarled at Ischarus and prepared to strike again.  As it crouched in a ready stance to attack, the frove that had been attacking Charis called out to it in its foreign tongue.  The frove looked to its left and saw that Semeion starting to charge again with Thana.  The frove jumped backwards out of Semeion’s path and looked up into Ischarus’ eyes.  As Ischarus returned the glare to the glowing green orbs of the frove, the beast spoke to him.  “We will wear you down until there is nothing left, Drakontos.  I have tasted your blood; I will eventually feast on your flesh.”

The froves turned and leapt back into the undergrowth of the forest.  Charis turned in the saddle to look at Rhema.  She stood in her saddle and was watching the proceeding with a very obedient goblin standing to her left.  Rhema’s face showed a smile as she looked upon her friends.  She looked down at the goblin and spoke softly and gently.  “See, Rashaak?  I told you that your forces would not be victorious.  But I also told you that your forces would be spared in spite of the attack that you brought on us.  We didn’t ask to be attacked.  You attacked us.  But to show you our true greatness, we will care for your wounded.  Watch.”

Rhema nodded to Ischarus firmly and smiled.  Ischarus picked up where Rhema had left off.  “Charis, check on the goblin that Thana knocked into the forest.  I’ll watch your back and make sure Abijou is safe.”

Charis gave Ischarus a quick glance and the look questioned if this is an appropriate time to stop and care for the goblin.  She knew the enemy’s main force couldn’t be far.  Ischarus gave his head a quick and hardly noticeable jerk in Rashaak’s direction.  Charis nodded, dismounted, and moved quickly to where the goblin had been knocked into the woods.  She dragged the goblin’s body back to among the company and checked his vital signs.  She applied pressure to some of his wounds and ensuring that the bleeding has stopped.  She quickly stood up and gave her report.  “He’s unconscious, but will live.  He’ll have a mighty headache when he wakes, but he’ll get better.”

Rhema smiled again, showing her extreme composure at a time when seconds meant everything.  “Rashaak, look at me.”  The goblin looked up at Rhema upon her horse.  “As I have promised.  He’ll live.  Now stand here and wait for the hunting party to find you.  Tell them that we intentionally did not kill any of your village.  Tell them that we are merely moving through your territory and are not worth your effort.”

Rashaak nodded.  He was enraptured by Rhema’s mind control over him.  Rhema carefully backed up to avoid threatening Rashaak with Shauvry’s hooves.  Once Semeion had passed by both Charis and Ischarus, Rhema spurred Shauvry into motion and continued along the trail.  This time, she took the lead.  Semeion followed atop of Thana and saluted Rashaak as he passed by.  Charis followed behind Semeion and as she looked at the tiny, charmed, and confused goblin she couldn’t help but give a pleasant smile and a wink to the goblin.  As Ischarus followed in the rear position, he stowed his sword in its scabbard and patted the hilt as he rode by Rashaak.  Even the light gray figure took a part in the act as it passed by Rashaak and maintained eye contact until he passed directly through a tree.

The company surged forward through the trees, hoping to outrun the goblins and get out of their territory.  Of course, nobody knew better than Charis that the owner of the next territory would likely not be any more forgiving.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
As soon as the light-gray figure had spoken his omen, a howl echoed in the distance. This echo had come from a slightly different direction than the area that the pair of froves had retreated to. Another howl rang out after the first one had ended. This second howl came from the same direction as the most recent one.

Charis looked to the ghostly figure and couldn’t help but confirm what she already knew. “More froves?”

Ischarus nodded, spinning Elistra around to the direction he wanted to travel. “Rhema, Semeion! Ride at the front and ride hard. Charis and I will follow behind you and protect your rear flank.”

Ischarus pulled slightly on the reigns and Elistra edged off the trail. Rhema spurred Shauvry into motion and Semeion spurred Thana behind her. As both these riders sprang forth into movement and brushed past Elistra, Ischarus motioned for Charis to go next. “I’ll go last. Hurry!”

The gray figure looked at Ischarus. “You know those howls?”

Ischarus smiled, and looked at the back of Charis. His foot dug hard into the stirrup and then shot back into Elistra’s side. The kick jolted his horse into movement. The gray figure matched Ischarus’ pace and followed along as Ischarus replied to his inquiry. “I don’t need to know those howls. I know enough about wolves back home to recognize the call of the pack. That’s what the two did when they retreated from our attack. They were calling the pack and my guess is that this was the pack answering.”

The figure nodded as it continued to slide effortlessly above the ground. “I fear you are correct. I have heard those howls many times, and I believe they mean exactly what you say.”

Ischarus ducked under a low branch as he continued the conversation. “If that is the case, those howls were not far off. The pack is not far from closing in on our position.”

Ischarus dug in again and urged Elistra into greater speed. As he did, he heard the yelping of exited dogs running in motion as they closed in on the foursome of horses. Over top of the excited yelps Ischarus heard a voice calling out excitedly.

Ischarus stood in his saddle and yelled to the riders ahead of him with all of his strength. “Hunting wolves closing!” It was all Ischarus could get out of his mouth before he heard a crash of flesh through the forest behind him. 

A snarl erupted in sound from behind him on the path. Ischarus could hear the snapping of a single jaw. Soon there was another crash of underbrush and an excited yelp. He thought he heard a similar voice as the one that had come from the frove that pinned Rhema to the ground. This voice spoke in a language Ischarus did not understand. The voice was answered by one of a much higher pitch.

This voice Ischarus recognized immediately even without turning to see it. It was a goblin riding atop what he could only expect to be a frove. By his count, there were two froves and a goblin behind. Given their speed at closing in on the charging horses he knew that the froves were faster than the horses. Running was less and less becoming an option.

His mind calculated the risks of fighting or being picked off one by one from the back. Again he rose in his saddle and yelled loudly. “Fight!” Once Ischarus had yelled, he leaned hard on the reigns and turned Elistra around to face his pursuers. As he went through the motions he noticed that he was wrong. There was not just one goblin rider. Each of the froves had a rider.

The nearest frove stopped short upon seeing Ischarus turn to face him. As the frove planted its front feet, the goblin that was riding atop of was caught completely by surprise and it flew forward and planted itself headfirst into the side of Elistra. The frove lunged forward in a bite, but Ischarus immediately turned it astray with the flat of his blade. 

The goblin that was still mounted upon a frove reached behind its back and brought forth and arrow. The goblin snapped the arrow into place and sent it forward toward Ischarus. From atop his horse, Ischarus ducked behind his shield and the arrow bounced off harmlessly.

While Ischarus was drawing the ire of the pursuers, Charis spun Abijou around and charged back toward Ischarus. She unfastened her pick from her belt and raised the weapon in a windmill strike. Back on Rhema’s father’s villa she had been taught a game played with a ball while being mounted in the saddle. This would be little different if she timed it right. Her goal was the goblin now lying at Elistra’s feet. Unfortunately for Charis, the pick sailed high and missed the creature on account of the goblin’s short stature.

Rhema had also heard Ischarus call. She spun Shauvry around and smirked as she watched her friends peel around launch into attacking formation. She called forth her mental powers once more, although this time her goal wasn’t to harm the goblin mind she had entered. She didn’t even desire to create an obsession like she had done with the goblins before. “Look at me!” Rhema commanded the fallen goblin that Charis had just missed with her hammer. The goblin’s head snapped around on its shoulders and looked back at Rhema. The expression on its face told Rhema all she needed to know. “Charis, move on to a frove! The goblin is mine!” She turned her head to regain focus on the goblin. “Come to me!” The goblin hesitated, and then slowly walked towards Shauvry.

The frove that still maintained its rider snarled, and its lips parted in speech. Neither Ischarus nor Charis understood the speech, but the goblin on top replied with its own voice in the same unfamiliar language. The goblin slid off of the frove’s back and the frove leapt forward into action. The beast sprang forward in an attempt to unhorse Ischarus. The valiant fighter used his sword as a lever and deflected the frove to the ground. The frove landed awkwardly on its back and exposed its more vulnerable belly to Ischarus.

Semeion pulled back hard on the reigns and caused Thana to rise up onto her hind legs. As the horse rose up, Semeion also stood in the saddle and surveyed the battlefield. He spotted a legitimate target. He had used enough of his magic already today that he was averse to waste a spell unless it was necessary. As the horse returned to the ground, Semeion dug into his stirrups and called Thana to charge. “Hiya!” 

He had spotted a narrow opening between Charis and Ischarus and planned to charge through the gap on top of Thana. As the horse broke into its move, the frove that had first attacked Ischarus managed to slip out of the way of the charging mount. The goblin that had fired an arrow upon Ischarus couldn’t get out of the way. The horse kicked hard at the goblin as it passed by. The solid hooves struck the goblin twice. One blow came from each front foot. The goblin was bloodied and fell face first into the underbrush. It didn’t move once it came to rest.

Ischarus smiled as Semeion used his mount to charge into action. He looked down upon the frove that had tried to unhorse him as the beast struggled to right itself from its bad fall. His sword slipped through the air, but the frove was able to twist out of the way.

The other frove turned and faced Charis. She had been shifting Elistra into position for a strike. The frove lunged up and bit at Charis’ foot but missed. Instead the frove caught the bottom of Charis’ boot upon its jaw. Charis returned the strike and managed to hit the frove with her pick before it could leap out of the way.

The frove gathered itself from the attack and leapt up again. This time the green eyed beast caught Charis on her leg. Red blood stained the maw of the frove and Charis’ stirrup dripped with blood. The bite attack had been worse that what Charis had hoped would happen and as she dug her foot into Abijou’s side a bloody print of her calf and foot was left on the abdomen of the horse. 

Despite the frove’s attempt to drag her from the saddle, Charis twisted her pick in her hand and stuck again in anger. Her blow drove the frove back to the ground, knocking it below Abijou’s feet. As the frove fell to the ground it dipped and twisted through Abijou’s steps as it avoided being tread upon and trampled to death. It was clear that this frove was experienced at fighting enemies from atop horses.

Semeion noticed that the fight was touch and go between Charis and the frove. He spun Thana around and charged back alongside Charis. He was careful to avoid her striking lanes as he rode by Abijou. He let out a cheer as he rode along, alerting Charis that he was coming up behind her. The frove managed to partially dodge Thana’s charge, although it was struck by one of Thana’s hooves. Thana’s nostril’s flared as Semeion spun her around for another trampling run. It seemed as though the horse was enjoying beating the froves with its mighty hooves.

The frove leapt up once more against Charis, but Charis took this attack much more seriously than the last one. When the attack was over, the frove had a bloody impression of the bottom of Charis’ stirrup plastered across his nose. Charis returned the strike and caught the frove behind its right front shoulder with the point of her pick. The frove yelped in a bit of a howl and backed up to survey the battlefield. As Semeion looked on, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was the goblins that were in charge of the froves or if the froves were the real brains behind the goblin tribe.

What the frove saw when it surveyed the battlefield was the effects of several blows traded from Ischarus and the other frove. After Iscahrus missed the frove’s exposed underbelly, the frove rose to the ground and leapt once more trying to unhorse the rider. Ischarus deftly spun Elistra around as the frove leapt and cause the frove to slam into the much more sturdy neck of Elistra. The frove tumbled back to the ground and Ischarus followed the blow from Elistra’s muscular neck with one of his own. His sword cut through the frove’s hair and a thin trail of blood appeared across the frove’s back.

The frove who was attacking Ischarus refused to give up and attacked again. This time the frove connected and caught hold of Ischarus’ forearm just above where his shield protected him. As the frove fell back to the ground, it clenched its teeth firmly in an attempt to unhorse Ischarus. Ischarus yanked back, freeing his arm from the bloody maw of the frove. The green eyed beast fell back to the ground and left a bloodied forearm behind in its wake. Ischarus turned Elistra around so that the frove was again on his sword side. Unfortunately his follow-up attack missed the frove high.

The frove leapt up again, staying on the sword side of Ischarus. The jaw of the frove found nothing except the solid metal butt end of Ischarus’ hilt of his sword. Ischarus quickly swung the sword down and caught the frove as he fell back to the ground. Another trail of blood appeared within the thick mat of fur protecting the frove. This cut was along his side.

The frove snarled at Ischarus and prepared to strike again. As it crouched in a ready stance to attack, the frove that had been attacking Charis called out to it in its foreign tongue. The frove looked to its left and saw that Semeion starting to charge again with Thana. The frove jumped backwards out of Semeion’s path and looked up into Ischarus’ eyes. As Ischarus returned the glare to the glowing green orbs of the frove, the beast spoke to him. “We will wear you down until there is nothing left, Drakontos. I have tasted your blood; I will eventually feast on your flesh.”

The froves turned and leapt back into the undergrowth of the forest. Charis turned in the saddle to look at Rhema. She stood in her saddle and was watching the proceeding with a very obedient goblin standing to her left. Rhema’s face showed a smile as she looked upon her friends. She looked down at the goblin and spoke softly and gently. “See, Rashaak? I told you that your forces would not be victorious. But I also told you that your forces would be spared in spite of the attack that you brought on us. We didn’t ask to be attacked. You attacked us. But to show you our true greatness, we will care for your wounded. Watch.”

Rhema nodded to Ischarus firmly and smiled. Ischarus picked up where Rhema had left off. “Charis, check on the goblin that Thana knocked into the forest. I’ll watch your back and make sure Abijou is safe.”

Charis gave Ischarus a quick glance and the look questioned if this is an appropriate time to stop and care for the goblin. She knew the enemy’s main force couldn’t be far. Ischarus gave his head a quick and hardly noticeable jerk in Rashaak’s direction. Charis nodded, dismounted, and moved quickly to where the goblin had been knocked into the woods. She dragged the goblin’s body back to among the company and checked his vital signs. She applied pressure to some of his wounds and ensuring that the bleeding has stopped. She quickly stood up and gave her report. “He’s unconscious, but will live. He’ll have a mighty headache when he wakes, but he’ll get better.”

Rhema smiled again, showing her extreme composure at a time when seconds meant everything. “Rashaak, look at me.” The goblin looked up at Rhema upon her horse. “As I have promised. He’ll live. Now stand here and wait for the hunting party to find you. Tell them that we intentionally did not kill any of your village. Tell them that we are merely moving through your territory and are not worth your effort.”

Rashaak nodded. He was enraptured by Rhema’s mind control over him. Rhema carefully backed up to avoid threatening Rashaak with Shauvry’s hooves. Once Semeion had passed by both Charis and Ischarus, Rhema spurred Shauvry into motion and continued along the trail. This time, she took the lead. Semeion followed atop of Thana and saluted Rashaak as he passed by. Charis followed behind Semeion and as she looked at the tiny, charmed, and confused goblin she couldn’t help but give a pleasant smile and a wink to the goblin. As Ischarus followed in the rear position, he stowed his sword in its scabbard and patted the hilt as he rode by Rashaak. Even the light gray figure took a part in the act as it passed by Rashaak and maintained eye contact until he passed directly through a tree.

The company surged forward through the trees, hoping to outrun the goblins and get out of their territory. Of course, nobody knew better than Charis that the owner of the next territory would likely not be any more forgiving.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 20, 2006)

*Chapter Ten: METANOIA *

Within minutes after the party left Rashaak and the unconscious goblin behind, they heard another set of howls.  This particular set of howls sounded more desperate than before.  As the party continued away from the scene, they noticed that the howls grew further and further away.  At the sound of the howls the horses themselves naturally increased their pace.  Each rider on the horses’ back noticed the increase in pace.  The quickened pace was coupled with a run of goose bumps and chills of there own.

Charis was the first to comment on the howling.  “I think that the howls are getting further away from us.  Perhaps we are outdistancing them!”

Semeion offered up an alternate suggestion.  His mind was working through the possible scenarios quickly as he was sure the pursuit would not be far behind.  “Either that, or they have stopped to deal with Rashaak and the wounded one that we left behind.”

Rhema glanced down toward the ground with a brief moment of sorrow.  “I do hope they will not treat Rashaak too miserably for allowing us to go.  They should notice that he is still under my influence for a few more minutes.  Hopefully our earlier encounter with Frang and Granknog will help them spare his life.”

Semeion offered up a hint of forgiveness to Rhema’s confession.  “Either way, we did all that we could.  We spared their lives and attempted to show them a higher ground.  They brought the assault to us, Rhema.”

Rhema’s tone told that while she appreciated Semeion’s attempt to console her she was not altogether convinced.  “Indeed.  It seems that in Quehalost all we can do is small effects that narrowly escape failure.  It really shouldn’t matter who brought the fight to whom.  What should matter is that nobody needed to die at all.”

Ischarus had not heard the conversation from his position in the far rear of the group.  The thundering of the horse hooves as they surged through the trees drowned out each of the front rider’s softer voices.  “Whatever the reason is for the wolf howls fading in the distance, I think that we should be thankful and use that to spur us into riding harder!  The more separation we can put between us and them the better off we will be when the froves begin pursuit again.  We’ve already seen that we can be overtaken by the faster froves.  Ride on, freedom fighters of Tongra!”

His last assertion rose in volume to that of a shout, the invocation of a semblance of a party name once again drove chills up and down the spines of those who rode on horseback.  Unlike the last chills which came out of the eerie nature of the howling of the froves, these chills were from excitement and enthusiasm arising from a group identity.  Charis let out a few cheers and yips.  Before too long the entire party was yipping along with many of the thunderous thuds from the hooves beating upon the ground beneath them.

It did indeed prove to be the last they would hear of the goblins and froves as the rode hard.  Nearly an hour and a half of hard riding later Ischarus called for a halt.  He noticed that his horse was beginning to strain under the exertion of riding through unknown terrain at a considerable pace.  “We walk to horses from here for a while,” Ischarus commanded after his call for a halt had gotten the attention of all ahead of him.

As they dismounted and began to walk in an attempt to cool the horses down and keep their overworked muscles from cramping, the light-gray figure approached Charis’ position and glided along the ground beside her.  He matched her gate perfectly and without any effort.  Abijou stood between Charis and the figure and the presence of the ghostly figure made the horse was nervous to say the least.  “So, Drakontos, how does it feel to be home?  From what the others have told me about your story I understand this area controlled by the great red wyrm Grixanthrosilithiss is your homeland?”

Charis nodded, although her gesture went unseen by the figure since her head was hidden by the broad front shoulders of Abijou.  “You have heard correctly.  I have been in no greater danger than that which I approach with every step.  Our only hope is that my father dragon watches the other side of his territory with the same intensity of focus as he hoards treasure and plans on conquering the world in order to hoard more treasure.  We hope to sneak in the back door and catch him unaware.”

Semeion added a question of his own before the light gray figure could reply.  “You know this land well, then?  Can you state for certain that we are out of goblin territory and safely into the land of the wyrm?”

Ischarus laughed and added, “Safely.  Now that is an interesting choice of words, Semeion.”

The light gray figure ignored Ischarus for the moment and replied to Semeion before addressing Charis once more.  “Yes.  We are out of the goblin territory and have been for some time.  Now you all fear fire from the sky and not the furry death from the glowing-eyed froves.  But you avoided my question, Charis.  How does it feel to be home?”

Nobody saw the single tear that ran down Charis’ cheek.  She was grateful the tear appeared out of her left eye, as it meant her nose hid it from the right and Abijou hid it from the left.  Her voice betrayed her passion, however.  “How do you describe it?  Is there a word that describes fear, terror, rage, guilt, and compassion all at once?”

Semeion was the first to pick up on her tone and respond.  “Charis, are you alright?  Do you need to break from our constant pursuit of your homeland?”

Charis shook her head slowly.  Her speech came even more slowly.  “No.  The walking helps keep my mind focused away from the emotion.”

Silence ensued, Charis was obviously upset and even beyond death the light gray figure was able to understand that his innocent question had brought her emotions to the surface.  After they had walked with only the sounds of feet and hooves crushing twigs and pine needles underneath for several minutes Charis spoke again.  “What have I done to deserve this favor?  Look at me?  I was rescued from a life of abuse.  Most likely I’d either be pregnant with half-draconic children right now or I’d be dead.  One of those two choices was likely going to be my fate if I’d remained.  And when it happened I didn’t even want to be rescued because I did not understand the truth about freedom and life.”

She paused for a moment to catch her breath before speaking again.  “My people remain enslaved to that beast.  I doubt that most found freedom when I was rescued.  They had no guide through the tunnels.  They knew no greater path.  If they were not killed, captured, or enslaved by any of the beings that inhabit the tunnels underneath the mountains then they were likely rounded up and brought back.  Worse yet, my people may have grown hungry and desperate when they were out on their own.  Thus, they would have returned home and accepted the anger that my dragon father threw at them in exchange for the ability to continue living.  Yet, if they did return they would have had to bargain their way into my father dragon’s society.  They would have been forced to agree to a harder lifestyle than before.  What did I ever do to deserve such a fate as this?  Why am I so lucky while the rest of my people suffer so greatly?”

Again, silence ensued.  Charis’ words made it clear that her comments were largely rhetorical.  What could be said in response to the truth of what she spoke?  Sure, everyone who was walking beside Charis knew that often life hands out cards in an unfair manner.  In spite of this knowledge it seemed like a highly inappropriate time to remind Charis of that fact.  Saying such a thing would only worsen the pain inside rather than ease it.  Reminding her that life is not fair would only strengthen the guilt she felt inside.

They continued to walk in silence for well over a few hours.  At first the party maintained silence for Charis’ sake.  But once the silence had continued for some time they realized that it was not a bad strategy to use when passing through the dragon’s territory.  After several hours of silence, Charis herself spoke first.  She looked around at the surrounding area and recognition came to her eyes.  “I know this territory.  We are not far now.  Perhaps a day’s more journey if we continue to travel until sundown.”  She looked through the canopy above her as best as she could.  “I recognize those hills.  We used to come near this land and hunt for food.”

The pace of the party quickened once more.  They were invigorated after enjoying the natural slow from Charis’ earlier comments.  They continued to walk, knowing that the horses would be ridden hard tomorrow to reach their destination.  The party had enough of silence and when Charis had spoken it sparked several small discussions about random elements of life.  The party spoke of food, weapons, horses, and the light gray figure’s areas of expertise in Quehalost.  

By the time sundown came, they had approached a natural spot in which to rest.  There was a place where the canopy lessened and it would make a natural place to rest on account of the starlight helping the visibility for the evening watches.  There was still enough of a canopy overhead to escape detection should a certain flying red dragon pass by.  Camp was established quickly since it would be a fire-free camp.  The flames from a fire would only attract attention from above.  The light gray figure planned on helping each of the party members stay awake, keep alert, and pass the time on their watch since he would not need to sleep.

The next day passed quickly.  The party rode atop their horses for most of the day, but they did not ride their horses hard.  They knew that should they encounter resistance they would need fresh horses.  This would be especially true should they encounter the kind of resistance with scales and a fiery breath.  The pace was akin to a brisk walk for the horses.  

The ground leveled as they neared the area that Charis had grown up under the careful eye of Grixanthrosilithiss.  He had chosen an excellent place to establish his territorial rule.  The mountains rose up sharply, giving him a perfect place to establish a home of his own.  However, beneath the sharply increasing mountain sides there was a single valley of flat land.  It was an ideal village area.  Charis had loved its majesty when she was growing up.  Now each step closer caused another figurative butterfly to flutter around inside her.

They knew that they were close when they saw the signs of smoke.  Charis knew immediately that it was an innocent smoke.  It was the smoke of cooking fires and small forges.  Yet the spirits of all but Charis lifted as they saw the signs.  It meant they were close.  On horseback, they were less than a quarter of an hour of riding away.  

Ischarus held up a clenched fist and the party came to an immediate halt.  “Rhema, you and Semeion tend the horses.  Charis and I know the most about Drakontai.  We’re going to take a look.”

The plan made sense, at least on the surface level.  The light gray figure decided to stay and talk lightly with Rhema and Semeion while the other two left.  The canopy above them was thick, so it seemed like a good place to rest.  Shortly after dismounting, Ischarus and Charis were out of sight and unable to be heard as they walked through the forest.

Ischarus and Rhema slowly crept up to the village edge.  They saw the clearing as it had been only a few months before.  The horizontal stone slab still existed as an important icon at the center of the community, although it was now empty and the signs of the earlier battle had easily been erased.  The houses were still present in the near circular ring that Charis remembered.  Everything seemed as though it had remained the same, almost as if the party’s efforts to disrupt the village had only one effect.  It was as if life remained exactly the same with the exception of the disappearance of herself and a few others from her village.

As they looked and crept around the outside of the village only a few feet from the edge of the undergrowth, both Charis and Ischarus stopped at the same time.  Their eyes simultaneously fixed on the same location.  There was a four foot steel cube hanging from a pole in a slightly off center position within the circle of houses that made up the village.  The steel cube had a solid top and bottom.  The top of the cube had been painted black.  The two sides of the cube that Ischarus and Rhema saw were both solid and also painted black.

With a slow and determined motion, Charis crept around the village enough to be able to get a glimpse of what the object truly was.  As the other side came into view she understood.  A third face of the steel cube was solid black painted steel.  The fourth side had steel bars rather than  a solid face.  It was a cage, suspended from a pole.  There was neither enough room to stand or lay down.  Ironically, it reminded Ischarus of the torture device the light gray figure had spoken of being kept in within the goblin village.

Charis commented with a whisper as she noted the device.  “It’s a cage.  I can’t make out what’s inside.  Is it an animal or human inside, can you see?”

Ischarus shook his head.  “No clue.”  He motioned for Charis to continue moving around.

As she moved, she tried to peer inside.  “Painted black to draw the heat of the sun?”  Charis questioned her thoughts aloud, speaking through her thoughts more than asking a legitimate question of Ischarus.

Ischarus answered anyway.  “Probably a method of torture.  It’d make sense for your dragon father to use the sun as a torture device.  He is a red wyrm after all.

Charis stopped as the person inside came into view.  “No,”  she spoke softly.  “It can’t be.  Not for all this time!  Oh, what have I done?”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]Chapter Ten: METANOIA 

Within minutes after the party left Rashaak and the unconscious goblin behind, they heard another set of howls. This particular set of howls sounded more desperate than before. As the party continued away from the scene, they noticed that the howls grew further and further away. At the sound of the howls the horses themselves naturally increased their pace. Each rider on the horses’ back noticed the increase in pace. The quickened pace was coupled with a run of goose bumps and chills of there own.

Charis was the first to comment on the howling. “I think that the howls are getting further away from us. Perhaps we are outdistancing them!”

Semeion offered up an alternate suggestion. His mind was working through the possible scenarios quickly as he was sure the pursuit would not be far behind. “Either that, or they have stopped to deal with Rashaak and the wounded one that we left behind.”

Rhema glanced down toward the ground with a brief moment of sorrow. “I do hope they will not treat Rashaak too miserably for allowing us to go. They should notice that he is still under my influence for a few more minutes. Hopefully our earlier encounter with Frang and Granknog will help them spare his life.”

Semeion offered up a hint of forgiveness to Rhema’s confession. “Either way, we did all that we could. We spared their lives and attempted to show them a higher ground. They brought the assault to us, Rhema.”

Rhema’s tone told that while she appreciated Semeion’s attempt to console her she was not altogether convinced. “Indeed. It seems that in Quehalost all we can do is small effects that narrowly escape failure. It really shouldn’t matter who brought the fight to whom. What should matter is that nobody needed to die at all.”

Ischarus had not heard the conversation from his position in the far rear of the group. The thundering of the horse hooves as they surged through the trees drowned out each of the front rider’s softer voices. “Whatever the reason is for the wolf howls fading in the distance, I think that we should be thankful and use that to spur us into riding harder! The more separation we can put between us and them the better off we will be when the froves begin pursuit again. We’ve already seen that we can be overtaken by the faster froves. Ride on, freedom fighters of Tongra!”

His last assertion rose in volume to that of a shout, the invocation of a semblance of a party name once again drove chills up and down the spines of those who rode on horseback. Unlike the last chills which came out of the eerie nature of the howling of the froves, these chills were from excitement and enthusiasm arising from a group identity. Charis let out a few cheers and yips. Before too long the entire party was yipping along with many of the thunderous thuds from the hooves beating upon the ground beneath them.

It did indeed prove to be the last they would hear of the goblins and froves as the rode hard. Nearly an hour and a half of hard riding later Ischarus called for a halt. He noticed that his horse was beginning to strain under the exertion of riding through unknown terrain at a considerable pace. “We walk to horses from here for a while,” Ischarus commanded after his call for a halt had gotten the attention of all ahead of him.

As they dismounted and began to walk in an attempt to cool the horses down and keep their overworked muscles from cramping, the light-gray figure approached Charis’ position and glided along the ground beside her. He matched her gate perfectly and without any effort. Abijou stood between Charis and the figure and the presence of the ghostly figure made the horse was nervous to say the least. “So, Drakontos, how does it feel to be home? From what the others have told me about your story I understand this area controlled by the great red wyrm Grixanthrosilithiss is your homeland?”

Charis nodded, although her gesture went unseen by the figure since her head was hidden by the broad front shoulders of Abijou. “You have heard correctly. I have been in no greater danger than that which I approach with every step. Our only hope is that my father dragon watches the other side of his territory with the same intensity of focus as he hoards treasure and plans on conquering the world in order to hoard more treasure. We hope to sneak in the back door and catch him unaware.”

Semeion added a question of his own before the light gray figure could reply. “You know this land well, then? Can you state for certain that we are out of goblin territory and safely into the land of the wyrm?”

Ischarus laughed and added, “Safely. Now that is an interesting choice of words, Semeion.”

The light gray figure ignored Ischarus for the moment and replied to Semeion before addressing Charis once more. “Yes. We are out of the goblin territory and have been for some time. Now you all fear fire from the sky and not the furry death from the glowing-eyed froves. But you avoided my question, Charis. How does it feel to be home?”

Nobody saw the single tear that ran down Charis’ cheek. She was grateful the tear appeared out of her left eye, as it meant her nose hid it from the right and Abijou hid it from the left. Her voice betrayed her passion, however. “How do you describe it? Is there a word that describes fear, terror, rage, guilt, and compassion all at once?”

Semeion was the first to pick up on her tone and respond. “Charis, are you alright? Do you need to break from our constant pursuit of your homeland?”

Charis shook her head slowly. Her speech came even more slowly. “No. The walking helps keep my mind focused away from the emotion.”

Silence ensued, Charis was obviously upset and even beyond death the light gray figure was able to understand that his innocent question had brought her emotions to the surface. After they had walked with only the sounds of feet and hooves crushing twigs and pine needles underneath for several minutes Charis spoke again. “What have I done to deserve this favor? Look at me? I was rescued from a life of abuse. Most likely I’d either be pregnant with half-draconic children right now or I’d be dead. One of those two choices was likely going to be my fate if I’d remained. And when it happened I didn’t even want to be rescued because I did not understand the truth about freedom and life.”

She paused for a moment to catch her breath before speaking again. “My people remain enslaved to that beast. I doubt that most found freedom when I was rescued. They had no guide through the tunnels. They knew no greater path. If they were not killed, captured, or enslaved by any of the beings that inhabit the tunnels underneath the mountains then they were likely rounded up and brought back. Worse yet, my people may have grown hungry and desperate when they were out on their own. Thus, they would have returned home and accepted the anger that my dragon father threw at them in exchange for the ability to continue living. Yet, if they did return they would have had to bargain their way into my father dragon’s society. They would have been forced to agree to a harder lifestyle than before. What did I ever do to deserve such a fate as this? Why am I so lucky while the rest of my people suffer so greatly?”

Again, silence ensued. Charis’ words made it clear that her comments were largely rhetorical. What could be said in response to the truth of what she spoke? Sure, everyone who was walking beside Charis knew that often life hands out cards in an unfair manner. In spite of this knowledge it seemed like a highly inappropriate time to remind Charis of that fact. Saying such a thing would only worsen the pain inside rather than ease it. Reminding her that life is not fair would only strengthen the guilt she felt inside.

They continued to walk in silence for well over a few hours. At first the party maintained silence for Charis’ sake. But once the silence had continued for some time they realized that it was not a bad strategy to use when passing through the dragon’s territory. After several hours of silence, Charis herself spoke first. She looked around at the surrounding area and recognition came to her eyes. “I know this territory. We are not far now. Perhaps a day’s more journey if we continue to travel until sundown.” She looked through the canopy above her as best as she could. “I recognize those hills. We used to come near this land and hunt for food.”

The pace of the party quickened once more. They were invigorated after enjoying the natural slow from Charis’ earlier comments. They continued to walk, knowing that the horses would be ridden hard tomorrow to reach their destination. The party had enough of silence and when Charis had spoken it sparked several small discussions about random elements of life. The party spoke of food, weapons, horses, and the light gray figure’s areas of expertise in Quehalost. 

By the time sundown came, they had approached a natural spot in which to rest. There was a place where the canopy lessened and it would make a natural place to rest on account of the starlight helping the visibility for the evening watches. There was still enough of a canopy overhead to escape detection should a certain flying red dragon pass by. Camp was established quickly since it would be a fire-free camp. The flames from a fire would only attract attention from above. The light gray figure planned on helping each of the party members stay awake, keep alert, and pass the time on their watch since he would not need to sleep.

The next day passed quickly. The party rode atop their horses for most of the day, but they did not ride their horses hard. They knew that should they encounter resistance they would need fresh horses. This would be especially true should they encounter the kind of resistance with scales and a fiery breath. The pace was akin to a brisk walk for the horses. 

The ground leveled as they neared the area that Charis had grown up under the careful eye of Grixanthrosilithiss. He had chosen an excellent place to establish his territorial rule. The mountains rose up sharply, giving him a perfect place to establish a home of his own. However, beneath the sharply increasing mountain sides there was a single valley of flat land. It was an ideal village area. Charis had loved its majesty when she was growing up. Now each step closer caused another figurative butterfly to flutter around inside her.

They knew that they were close when they saw the signs of smoke. Charis knew immediately that it was an innocent smoke. It was the smoke of cooking fires and small forges. Yet the spirits of all but Charis lifted as they saw the signs. It meant they were close. On horseback, they were less than a quarter of an hour of riding away. 

Ischarus held up a clenched fist and the party came to an immediate halt. “Rhema, you and Semeion tend the horses. Charis and I know the most about Drakontai. We’re going to take a look.”

The plan made sense, at least on the surface level. The light gray figure decided to stay and talk lightly with Rhema and Semeion while the other two left. The canopy above them was thick, so it seemed like a good place to rest. Shortly after dismounting, Ischarus and Charis were out of sight and unable to be heard as they walked through the forest.

Ischarus and Rhema slowly crept up to the village edge. They saw the clearing as it had been only a few months before. The horizontal stone slab still existed as an important icon at the center of the community, although it was now empty and the signs of the earlier battle had easily been erased. The houses were still present in the near circular ring that Charis remembered. Everything seemed as though it had remained the same, almost as if the party’s efforts to disrupt the village had only one effect. It was as if life remained exactly the same with the exception of the disappearance of herself and a few others from her village.

As they looked and crept around the outside of the village only a few feet from the edge of the undergrowth, both Charis and Ischarus stopped at the same time. Their eyes simultaneously fixed on the same location. There was a four foot steel cube hanging from a pole in a slightly off center position within the circle of houses that made up the village. The steel cube had a solid top and bottom. The top of the cube had been painted black. The two sides of the cube that Ischarus and Rhema saw were both solid and also painted black.

With a slow and determined motion, Charis crept around the village enough to be able to get a glimpse of what the object truly was. As the other side came into view she understood. A third face of the steel cube was solid black painted steel. The fourth side had steel bars rather than a solid face. It was a cage, suspended from a pole. There was neither enough room to stand or lay down. Ironically, it reminded Ischarus of the torture device the light gray figure had spoken of being kept in within the goblin village.

Charis commented with a whisper as she noted the device. “It’s a cage. I can’t make out what’s inside. Is it an animal or human inside, can you see?”

Ischarus shook his head. “No clue.” He motioned for Charis to continue moving around.

As she moved, she tried to peer inside. “Painted black to draw the heat of the sun?” Charis questioned her thoughts aloud, speaking through her thoughts more than asking a legitimate question of Ischarus.

Ischarus answered anyway. “Probably a method of torture. It’d make sense for your dragon father to use the sun as a torture device. He is a red wyrm after all.

Charis stopped as the person inside came into view. “No,” she spoke softly. “It can’t be. Not for all this time! Oh, what have I done?”[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 21, 2006)

Ischarus took one look at the inside of the cage and saw a disheveled looking man.  He’d obviously not been bathed for a long time.  His facial hair had grown long and it was matted in several places.  His clothing hung loosely from his shoulders and was torn and tattered.  There was evidence that a whipping had occurred as many of the tears in the clothing were parallel to one another.  The figure’s muscle tone was simply nonexistent from having spent prolonged periods of time in the cramped quarters.  In all, there didn’t appear to be much muscle left on the figure.  He had the look of a man who was intentionally being starved within an inch of his life.  Ischarus noticed especially that there appeared to be a great swarm of flies constantly darting in and out of the front of the metal cage.

Charis tucked her head into her hands and mumbled something inaudible.  Ischarus thought it sounded like a name but he wasn’t sure.  Charis breathed in deeply and used the palms of her hand to push away her hair as it covered her face when she looked down.  Frustrated, she pulled her hair back and tied it in a simple knot that she expected to come undone the first time that she moved.  She looked up once more at the cage and shook her head in disbelief.

Ischarus saw her immediate discouragement as she recognized the figure inside the cage.  “Family, Charis?”

Charis smiled and let out a quick, muffled laugh.  She hadn’t expected that comment out of Ischarus.  He knew what a Drakontos village community was like.  “We’re all family, Ischarus, through our dragon father.”

Ischarus shared her quick and muffled laugh after hearing her response.  “Fair enough.  Is it immediate family, then?  Brother, Father?”  Ischarus expected that the man being her father would be a bit of a stretch.  The man in the cage didn’t look much more than Charis’ own age, although the unkempt appearance made it hard to tell for certain.  He had thought about adding something along the lines of boyfriend, fiancée, or even husband but for the sake of Semeion and their budding romance he held back his tongue.

Charis replied with sorrow in her voice.  “None of the above.  He was a friend, that’s all.  He was a good friend of mine until about a week before I was offered up as Provenience and rescued by you all.  I had tried to get him to understand the necessity of our plan.  I had tried to sway him to see the light of those who desired me to be the Provenience in an attempt to spread my healing to a new generation.  But he was too close to our dragon father.  He was convinced that if our dragon father’s plans were attainable then our greatness and freedom from manual labor was destined to be through creating an army of power and dominating the area.  He thought that our freedom rested upon the enslavement of others.”

Ischarus frowned as he listened to Charis.  “If he was so close to the dragon father, why do you think that he has been locked up here?  If he chose to follow the ways of his dragon father over the counsel of his friends, why would he be punished?”

Charis shook her head slowly as her eyes focused in on the man within the cage.  “I don’t know for sure, but I have a good guess.  I would expect that the man in the box has been in there for about as long as I have been running free.”

Ischarus looked confused.  “How can you be so certain?

Charis looked down and away from the box, closing her eyes tightly so as to drive the image out of her mind.  When she was unsuccessful she looked back to Ischarus.  Her eyes were filled with tears.  “The man in the box is Druff.  He used to be a fighter of great strength as you saw the last time you were through here.”

Ischarus looked back at the box.  It was not possible for him to imagine the strong and vibrant young swordsman that Ischarus had matched up against so evenly as having turned into this untidy and weak figure before them.  “Druff?  But he was so adamantly loyal to the power of your dragon father!”

Charis nodded in agreement.  “But he was the one Rhema charmed to help get the people to run.  He was as big of a factor in their freedom as you all were.  When you made it to the caves, I have no doubt that the wrath of my dragon father focused on Druff for allowing himself to be charmed into listening to Rhema.  He took the blame that was intended for you three.  I am sure that he took my father dragon’s rage for losing me.  The setback to my father dragon’s plan became his fault.  I do not doubt that.”

Ischarus spoke softly, hoping to sooth the pain and guilt inside.  “You cannot know that for sure, Charis.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t out of enjoyment.  Her face demonstrated that she was grateful for his attempt to make her feel better but his words carried little weight.  “Look at him, Ischarus.  He’s been in there for a long time.”

A voice appeared from directly behind the pair and softly put forth a question.  “Menshea?”  Both the language and the name were spoken in a thick draconic accent.

Ischarus drew his sword in a flash and spun around to find a young girl, perhaps three or four years younger than Charis.  Her black hair with red highlights and the red flecked irises of her eyes gave her away as a Drakontos of this village.  Much of her facial figures were incredibly similar to Charis that it was uncanny.

In another instant Ischarus pounced on the girl and trapped her mouth underneath his leather gauntleted glove.  He was careful to make sure that her nose was completely free from being blocked so that she could still breathe.  Switching to the language of the Drakontai he spoke directly to the girl.  “Make no sound.  Even seeing us could get you killed by your dragon father.  Do you understand that your life is in danger and not necessarily by us?”

Of course, the girl nodded.  From her perspective she knew her life was in danger.  Ischarus had drawn his sword and charged her position before she could react.  There was no doubt in the girl’s mind that her life was in danger.

Charis quickly moved to the girl’s position.  “Harrah?  Is that you?  You are so thin!”

The girl nodded in the affirmative quite vigorously.  Of course, it was impossible to reply on account of Ischarus’ hand covering her mouth.

Charis smiled broadly.  “Ischarus, this is a friend.  Her parents were two of the most vocal supporters of the plan to make me Provenience.  She won’t yell or tell anyone that she has seen us.  Will she, Harrah?”

Harrah shook her head slowly from side to side.  Her eyes shot to Ischarus upon hearing his name.  She recognized it as a Drakontos name itself.  Yet, she knew that his eyes and hair did not contain the red flecks and highlights as did those of Charis and herself.  Where she expected to find red she only saw the glistening of the color of mercury.

Ischarus lifted his hand only an inch from her face, completely prepared to reapply the pressure should the need arise. “No loud sounds, correct?”

Harrah spoke softly in the draconic language.  “No loud sounds.  You are a strange Drakontos.  How have you shed your red color and replaced it with that of refined metal?”

Charis smiled, remembering the exact same thought the first time she recognized Ischarus as a Drakontos.  “He is not of our tribe, Harrah.  He is of a tribe with another dragon father.  His father dragon is the color of his eyes, not red like ours.”

Harrah spat upon the ground.  “You are the enemy of our father dragon.  We all know of dragons who have the coloring of your eyes.”

Ischarus could only smile.  She was correct, of course.  His father dragon was a natural enemy of her own father dragon.  “Our father dragons may be enemies, but that does not imply that we must be enemies.  The one you call Menshea is my friend.  We call her Charis.”

The girl smiled.  “You speak wisely, Drakontos of another tribe.”

Charis interrupted the polite introductions.  It was time to have some answers.  “Harrah, what happened to Druff?”

Harrah looked to the ground.  “Druff has been abused by our father dragon as a sign of disobedience.  For several weeks Druff and others like him hunted our people in the tunnels and the surrounding area.  He and the others returned many of our tribe back to our father dragon.  As more came back, our father dragon imposed much more harsh and strict penalties upon us.  You say I am so skinny, but that is because we are forced to work twice as hard as before and have hardly any time to hunt.  Many of our fellow tribesmen have not eaten meat for a month.  We live simply off of the berries that we can forage for at night when we should be sleeping.  Once Druff and his men were certain there were no more left to find and that you had escaped for good, our dragon father imposed even greater penalties upon our community.  The children were taken away.  Husbands were not allowed to mate with their wives.  In fact, our dragon father made it so that men and women could not even meet and if anyone violated the rule they would be punished with death by our father dragon’s breath.  As the penalties increased greatly, Druff began to see what he could not see before you left.  Druff could not see what you and my parents and others like you could not convince him of.  Druff saw the cruelty for what it was.”

Ischarus heard a snap of a twig around their location, but a quick search found nobody in movement.  The trio said nothing as they searched the area around them.  After several minutes of silence, Ischarus nodded for Harrah to continue.

Harrah spoke more softly than she had earlier.  “Druff met with the male elders, for he was not allowed to meet with the women.  Together they all devised a plan.  The elders proposed to our father dragon that if he would remove some of the restrictions they would investigate as to who the traitors were that were still in the community.  Our father dragon agreed, and removed all of the punishments that divided our community.  He refused to remove the increases to our labor.  Our elders thought the compromise would be enough and was worth the sacrifice.  At Druff’s proposal they turned Druff in as the traitor.  Immediately our father dragon’s rage turned upon him.  We have lived easier for several months because Druff is tortured.  We begged for him to not make this choice, but he insisted.  He had seen our father dragon for the abusively powerful figure that he was and knew that escape was impossible.  He realized that he had put his faith in the wrong source and it was now coming back to haunt him and his fellow Drakontai.  He wanted to die rather than live and mourn the errors of his past.  Yet, our dragon father would not grant him that request.  Our dragon father decided that Druff would become the icon for what happens to those who lose faith.  As a form of torture, our father dragon allows him 20 minutes of exercise a day.  That is enough to keep his body from deciding to die.  Our father dragon only allows Druff to have exactly enough food to prevent him from dying.  He is always hungry, however.  Our dragon father gives him just enough to keep him from dying.  But through his sacrifice we have found ease.”

Harrah’s eyes dropped to the ground, mourning Druff’s condition.  Charis was about to speak, but each of the three Drakontai present heard another snap of a twig.  This time, Ischarus saw who was moving around them.  It was an aged man, especially for a Drakontos of red dragon lineage.  Ischarus estimated that by his look that the newcomer was several decades older than Ischarus himself.  Ischarus caught his eyes in a stare of his own but did not speak.  He motioned for the figure to come out of hiding.

As the figure moved, Harrah whispered with a smile on his face.  “Papa!  Why have you come into the woods and left your work?”

The man closed a few steps closer and then looked at the party.  “I remember you,” he said as he looked to Ischarus.  “You are the one who came and began all of our trouble!  You were the one that stole our …”  His eyes glanced to Charis.  His tone changed to one of being stunned. “Provenience?”  He bowed his head in respect and stepped two more steps forward.

Charis looked at the man and her eyes filled with compassion.  “Xando.  It has been forever.  Please, come and approach.  I have returned for you all, and I have brought friends.”

The man looked up as his name was spoken.  “That is impossible.  Do not speak of such things.”  Xando approached Harrah and embraced her lovingly.  “Harrah, when you did not return from retrieving wood for my fire I grew worried.  I had to come and see if you were safe.”

Ischarus spoke with little emotion in his voice.  He was smart enough to realize that he and Charis were alone.  Too many Drakontai would mean an ever increasing amount of danger.  “She is safe.  She is safer now than she has been in months.”

Harrah spoke softly to her father.  “Listen to Menshea and her friend.  They speak truth.  That is something that has vanished from our village for years.  And it has only returned in the cage.”

Charis looked down again at the mention of Druff.  She lifted her head and spoke directly to Xando.  “Xando, how many in the village are loyal to you?”

Xando smiled, and his thick gray mustache curled around his lips.  “As many as before.  But I can say that there is only a handful still loyal to the father dragon.  Those who are not loyal to me have been swayed by Druff’s sacrifice.  Many may be loyal to me.  But all are loyal to Druff.  There is not one in the village who would not listen to Druff.”

Charis’ eyes brightened.  Her mind regressed to the time when she was a part of this community and she remembered the village routines.  “Good.  Then tell each family member to send one representative to your house after the fire is extinguished for the night.  Tell them to come in darkness and bring no light.  Druff will speak with them.”

Both Xando and Harrah looked with curiosity upon Charis.  Even Ischarus had to admit that her words had him interested.  As Xando looked to her he began to question her words.  Charis cut him off and pointed to the village.  “Do not ask.  Go!  You both have been gone too long already.  And take wood with you!”

Charis had stepped back into the mode of Provenience.  Xando and Harrah felt it natural to obey her and they did.  They knew the wisdom in her last statement. Charis and Ischarus watched from the cover of the woods to make sure they both safely returned to their house with the wood.  Only once they were safely in the house did Charis give one more glance to Druff in his cage.  “I always knew Druff was noble.  If only he had not been so stubborn before you came.  If he would have had more wisdom before you came things would have been different.  But, we’ve had enough of the past.  Come, we have plans to make.  Those plans will require all our input.”

Charis began to move away from the village.  Ischarus stopped her by grabbing her elbow lightly.  As she turned to face him, Ischarus smiled and spoke.  “Menshea?”

Charis blushed and looked down to the ground.  “It is a nickname, nothing more.”

Iscahrus released her and they began to walk quietly through the woods together.  Ischarus continued to pry.  “A nickname?  You get a name like Menshea and you expect me to be satisfied with that explanation?”

Charis smiled broadly and gave Ischarus a nearly flirtatious look.  As her head turned back to look at him, her hair fluttered freely through the air.  Had her interest in Semeion not been so obvious, Ischarus might have considered the look for more than what it was as offered.  “We do not always get what we want, Ischarus.”

She knew they were far enough away from the village to be able to make a bit of noise.  She looked back in the direction they were headed and broke into a run, expecting Ischarus to chase.  She was not disappointed.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Ischarus took one look at the inside of the cage and saw a disheveled looking man. He’d obviously not been bathed for a long time. His facial hair had grown long and it was matted in several places. His clothing hung loosely from his shoulders and was torn and tattered. There was evidence that a whipping had occurred as many of the tears in the clothing were parallel to one another. The figure’s muscle tone was simply nonexistent from having spent prolonged periods of time in the cramped quarters. In all, there didn’t appear to be much muscle left on the figure. He had the look of a man who was intentionally being starved within an inch of his life. Ischarus noticed especially that there appeared to be a great swarm of flies constantly darting in and out of the front of the metal cage.

Charis tucked her head into her hands and mumbled something inaudible. Ischarus thought it sounded like a name but he wasn’t sure. Charis breathed in deeply and used the palms of her hand to push away her hair as it covered her face when she looked down. Frustrated, she pulled her hair back and tied it in a simple knot that she expected to come undone the first time that she moved. She looked up once more at the cage and shook her head in disbelief.

Ischarus saw her immediate discouragement as she recognized the figure inside the cage. “Family, Charis?”

Charis smiled and let out a quick, muffled laugh. She hadn’t expected that comment out of Ischarus. He knew what a Drakontos village community was like. “We’re all family, Ischarus, through our dragon father.”

Ischarus shared her quick and muffled laugh after hearing her response. “Fair enough. Is it immediate family, then? Brother, Father?” Ischarus expected that the man being her father would be a bit of a stretch. The man in the cage didn’t look much more than Charis’ own age, although the unkempt appearance made it hard to tell for certain. He had thought about adding something along the lines of boyfriend, fiancée, or even husband but for the sake of Semeion and their budding romance he held back his tongue.

Charis replied with sorrow in her voice. “None of the above. He was a friend, that’s all. He was a good friend of mine until about a week before I was offered up as Provenience and rescued by you all. I had tried to get him to understand the necessity of our plan. I had tried to sway him to see the light of those who desired me to be the Provenience in an attempt to spread my healing to a new generation. But he was too close to our dragon father. He was convinced that if our dragon father’s plans were attainable then our greatness and freedom from manual labor was destined to be through creating an army of power and dominating the area. He thought that our freedom rested upon the enslavement of others.”

Ischarus frowned as he listened to Charis. “If he was so close to the dragon father, why do you think that he has been locked up here? If he chose to follow the ways of his dragon father over the counsel of his friends, why would he be punished?”

Charis shook her head slowly as her eyes focused in on the man within the cage. “I don’t know for sure, but I have a good guess. I would expect that the man in the box has been in there for about as long as I have been running free.”

Ischarus looked confused. “How can you be so certain?

Charis looked down and away from the box, closing her eyes tightly so as to drive the image out of her mind. When she was unsuccessful she looked back to Ischarus. Her eyes were filled with tears. “The man in the box is Druff. He used to be a fighter of great strength as you saw the last time you were through here.”

Ischarus looked back at the box. It was not possible for him to imagine the strong and vibrant young swordsman that Ischarus had matched up against so evenly as having turned into this untidy and weak figure before them. “Druff? But he was so adamantly loyal to the power of your dragon father!”

Charis nodded in agreement. “But he was the one Rhema charmed to help get the people to run. He was as big of a factor in their freedom as you all were. When you made it to the caves, I have no doubt that the wrath of my dragon father focused on Druff for allowing himself to be charmed into listening to Rhema. He took the blame that was intended for you three. I am sure that he took my father dragon’s rage for losing me. The setback to my father dragon’s plan became his fault. I do not doubt that.”

Ischarus spoke softly, hoping to sooth the pain and guilt inside. “You cannot know that for sure, Charis.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t out of enjoyment. Her face demonstrated that she was grateful for his attempt to make her feel better but his words carried little weight. “Look at him, Ischarus. He’s been in there for a long time.”

A voice appeared from directly behind the pair and softly put forth a question. “Menshea?” Both the language and the name were spoken in a thick draconic accent.

Ischarus drew his sword in a flash and spun around to find a young girl, perhaps three or four years younger than Charis. Her black hair with red highlights and the red flecked irises of her eyes gave her away as a Drakontos of this village. Much of her facial figures were incredibly similar to Charis that it was uncanny.

In another instant Ischarus pounced on the girl and trapped her mouth underneath his leather gauntleted glove. He was careful to make sure that her nose was completely free from being blocked so that she could still breathe. Switching to the language of the Drakontai he spoke directly to the girl. “Make no sound. Even seeing us could get you killed by your dragon father. Do you understand that your life is in danger and not necessarily by us?”

Of course, the girl nodded. From her perspective she knew her life was in danger. Ischarus had drawn his sword and charged her position before she could react. There was no doubt in the girl’s mind that her life was in danger.

Charis quickly moved to the girl’s position. “Harrah? Is that you? You are so thin!”

The girl nodded in the affirmative quite vigorously. Of course, it was impossible to reply on account of Ischarus’ hand covering her mouth.

Charis smiled broadly. “Ischarus, this is a friend. Her parents were two of the most vocal supporters of the plan to make me Provenience. She won’t yell or tell anyone that she has seen us. Will she, Harrah?”

Harrah shook her head slowly from side to side. Her eyes shot to Ischarus upon hearing his name. She recognized it as a Drakontos name itself. Yet, she knew that his eyes and hair did not contain the red flecks and highlights as did those of Charis and herself. Where she expected to find red she only saw the glistening of the color of mercury.

Ischarus lifted his hand only an inch from her face, completely prepared to reapply the pressure should the need arise. “No loud sounds, correct?”

Harrah spoke softly in the draconic language. “No loud sounds. You are a strange Drakontos. How have you shed your red color and replaced it with that of refined metal?”

Charis smiled, remembering the exact same thought the first time she recognized Ischarus as a Drakontos. “He is not of our tribe, Harrah. He is of a tribe with another dragon father. His father dragon is the color of his eyes, not red like ours.”

Harrah spat upon the ground. “You are the enemy of our father dragon. We all know of dragons who have the coloring of your eyes.”

Ischarus could only smile. She was correct, of course. His father dragon was a natural enemy of her own father dragon. “Our father dragons may be enemies, but that does not imply that we must be enemies. The one you call Menshea is my friend. We call her Charis.”

The girl smiled. “You speak wisely, Drakontos of another tribe.”

Charis interrupted the polite introductions. It was time to have some answers. “Harrah, what happened to Druff?”

Harrah looked to the ground. “Druff has been abused by our father dragon as a sign of disobedience. For several weeks Druff and others like him hunted our people in the tunnels and the surrounding area. He and the others returned many of our tribe back to our father dragon. As more came back, our father dragon imposed much more harsh and strict penalties upon us. You say I am so skinny, but that is because we are forced to work twice as hard as before and have hardly any time to hunt. Many of our fellow tribesmen have not eaten meat for a month. We live simply off of the berries that we can forage for at night when we should be sleeping. Once Druff and his men were certain there were no more left to find and that you had escaped for good, our dragon father imposed even greater penalties upon our community. The children were taken away. Husbands were not allowed to mate with their wives. In fact, our dragon father made it so that men and women could not even meet and if anyone violated the rule they would be punished with death by our father dragon’s breath. As the penalties increased greatly, Druff began to see what he could not see before you left. Druff could not see what you and my parents and others like you could not convince him of. Druff saw the cruelty for what it was.”

Ischarus heard a snap of a twig around their location, but a quick search found nobody in movement. The trio said nothing as they searched the area around them. After several minutes of silence, Ischarus nodded for Harrah to continue.

Harrah spoke more softly than she had earlier. “Druff met with the male elders, for he was not allowed to meet with the women. Together they all devised a plan. The elders proposed to our father dragon that if he would remove some of the restrictions they would investigate as to who the traitors were that were still in the community. Our father dragon agreed, and removed all of the punishments that divided our community. He refused to remove the increases to our labor. Our elders thought the compromise would be enough and was worth the sacrifice. At Druff’s proposal they turned Druff in as the traitor. Immediately our father dragon’s rage turned upon him. We have lived easier for several months because Druff is tortured. We begged for him to not make this choice, but he insisted. He had seen our father dragon for the abusively powerful figure that he was and knew that escape was impossible. He realized that he had put his faith in the wrong source and it was now coming back to haunt him and his fellow Drakontai. He wanted to die rather than live and mourn the errors of his past. Yet, our dragon father would not grant him that request. Our dragon father decided that Druff would become the icon for what happens to those who lose faith. As a form of torture, our father dragon allows him 20 minutes of exercise a day. That is enough to keep his body from deciding to die. Our father dragon only allows Druff to have exactly enough food to prevent him from dying. He is always hungry, however. Our dragon father gives him just enough to keep him from dying. But through his sacrifice we have found ease.”

Harrah’s eyes dropped to the ground, mourning Druff’s condition. Charis was about to speak, but each of the three Drakontai present heard another snap of a twig. This time, Ischarus saw who was moving around them. It was an aged man, especially for a Drakontos of red dragon lineage. Ischarus estimated that by his look that the newcomer was several decades older than Ischarus himself. Ischarus caught his eyes in a stare of his own but did not speak. He motioned for the figure to come out of hiding.

As the figure moved, Harrah whispered with a smile on his face. “Papa! Why have you come into the woods and left your work?”

The man closed a few steps closer and then looked at the party. “I remember you,” he said as he looked to Ischarus. “You are the one who came and began all of our trouble! You were the one that stole our …” His eyes glanced to Charis. His tone changed to one of being stunned. “Provenience?” He bowed his head in respect and stepped two more steps forward.

Charis looked at the man and her eyes filled with compassion. “Xando. It has been forever. Please, come and approach. I have returned for you all, and I have brought friends.”

The man looked up as his name was spoken. “That is impossible. Do not speak of such things.” Xando approached Harrah and embraced her lovingly. “Harrah, when you did not return from retrieving wood for my fire I grew worried. I had to come and see if you were safe.”

Ischarus spoke with little emotion in his voice. He was smart enough to realize that he and Charis were alone. Too many Drakontai would mean an ever increasing amount of danger. “She is safe. She is safer now than she has been in months.”

Harrah spoke softly to her father. “Listen to Menshea and her friend. They speak truth. That is something that has vanished from our village for years. And it has only returned in the cage.”

Charis looked down again at the mention of Druff. She lifted her head and spoke directly to Xando. “Xando, how many in the village are loyal to you?”

Xando smiled, and his thick gray mustache curled around his lips. “As many as before. But I can say that there is only a handful still loyal to the father dragon. Those who are not loyal to me have been swayed by Druff’s sacrifice. Many may be loyal to me. But all are loyal to Druff. There is not one in the village who would not listen to Druff.”

Charis’ eyes brightened. Her mind regressed to the time when she was a part of this community and she remembered the village routines. “Good. Then tell each family member to send one representative to your house after the fire is extinguished for the night. Tell them to come in darkness and bring no light. Druff will speak with them.”

Both Xando and Harrah looked with curiosity upon Charis. Even Ischarus had to admit that her words had him interested. As Xando looked to her he began to question her words. Charis cut him off and pointed to the village. “Do not ask. Go! You both have been gone too long already. And take wood with you!”

Charis had stepped back into the mode of Provenience. Xando and Harrah felt it natural to obey her and they did. They knew the wisdom in her last statement. Charis and Ischarus watched from the cover of the woods to make sure they both safely returned to their house with the wood. Only once they were safely in the house did Charis give one more glance to Druff in his cage. “I always knew Druff was noble. If only he had not been so stubborn before you came. If he would have had more wisdom before you came things would have been different. But, we’ve had enough of the past. Come, we have plans to make. Those plans will require all our input.”

Charis began to move away from the village. Ischarus stopped her by grabbing her elbow lightly. As she turned to face him, Ischarus smiled and spoke. “Menshea?”

Charis blushed and looked down to the ground. “It is a nickname, nothing more.”

Iscahrus released her and they began to walk quietly through the woods together. Ischarus continued to pry. “A nickname? You get a name like Menshea and you expect me to be satisfied with that explanation?”

Charis smiled broadly and gave Ischarus a nearly flirtatious look. As her head turned back to look at him, her hair fluttered freely through the air. Had her interest in Semeion not been so obvious, Ischarus might have considered the look for more than what it was as offered. “We do not always get what we want, Ischarus.”

She knew they were far enough away from the village to be able to make a bit of noise. She looked back in the direction they were headed and broke into a run, expecting Ischarus to chase. She was not disappointed.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 23, 2006)

Ischarus eventually caught up to Charis and in a whirling motion of intertwined bodies they tumbled to the ground.  Fortunately for both of them neither of them landed on top of each other and the awkward moment of potential was avoided.  Ischarus was the first one to stand up on his feet and he approached Charis with caution, fearing that she just might try and trip him.  He reached out a hand and extended it to her as an offering of a sign of truce to get her onto her feet.  He smiled as he spoke and his tone took a teasing position.  “Now I caught you, so fess up.  Where I come from Menshea is not a bad term, but it is definitely an unusual one.  Menshea means something loosely translated to ‘Big Little Finger.’  I couldn’t help myself so I checked during that conversation.  Your fingers aren’t oddly shaped at all.  So there must be something about the name that I do not understand, right?”

Charis returned the smile and accepted Ischarus’ help up.  “I suppose the name is not so much embarrassing as it is telling of my upbringing.  It is a personal name given to me by my clan.  Some people earn funny names while other people earn names that honestly reflect who they are.  That is the case with me.  I earned that name when I was little.”

Ischarus chuckled as he gestured to Charis indicating the direction that they had to travel to return to the party.  “You used to have a big little finger but grew into it like a puppy who grows into their over-sized paws?”

Charis couldn’t help but laugh again at the suggestion.  It showed some serious thought, but she knew he was headed down the wrong direction.  “No, not quite.  Have you ever heard it explained how a child has a parent wrapped around their little finger?”

Ischarus nodded as he pushed a branch out of the way.  “Sure, it means that the child has learned how to manipulate a parent.  Sometimes it means that they can make a certain face, or talk in a certain tone.  Sometimes it means they just know when to ask.  But yeah, I understand what you are getting at.”

Charis continued. “My people learned of my healing talent from almost day one.  My mother recovered from my birth in record time.  Her birth was nearly free from pain.  Once I began to be able to walk I would occasionally heal people who might pick me up in the village.  This fact was especially true if their scars and the like were visible.  Once the elders of the village heard about my gift and saw it with their own eyes, they knew something had to be done immediately to protect me from our dragon father.  It’s not that my dragon father would’ve killed me.  Rather, he would have taken a keen interest in me and most likely corrupted my abilities.  The elders of the village had other plans.  Throughout the village I was given the name Menshea.  The villagers had come to revere my gift and knew that I could help them if they got into trouble with the dragon father or even if an accident happened in a workshop or on a hunt.  While I didn’t want to be, the villagers began to treat me differently than the rest of the children.  I suppose my ability to heal meant that in some respect the village was wrapped around my little finger.  I was called Menshea and the name became a self-fulfilling prophecy.  That way people could talk about my gift without mentioning it specifically in the wrong company.”

Ischarus stopped, and Charis paused in her own walk a step or two before him.  She turned, expecting to find something wrong.  Instead, she found Ischarus standing there with a look of deep thought on his face.  He was even lightly chewing upon his lower lip as he thought.

Charis looked to him in curiosity.  “Ischarus?”  It was enough to bring him back to reality.

Ischarus replied with a question of his own.  “You meant much to your people, didn’t you?  And now that you have tasted freedom, your people mean even more to you than before.”

Charis nodded and responded in return.  “Yes.  I took them for granted before I met you three.  I saw them as pawns and I saw myself as their Provenience.  I saw myself as the mother of the next generation of mighty blood introduced into our community for the glory of our dragon father.”

She paused, turned around, and began walking once more while she continued her answer.  “Now I am too late to appreciate what they sacrificed for me.  Had you three not intervened, I would have sacrificed their trust without even knowing what they had been giving to me.  Sure, I understood their goals.  But I am still young.  More than likely I would have been swayed by the power of my position and been unable to do what they hoped I could.”

Ischarus reached out a hand and rested it upon her shoulder from behind.  “The name Provenience means origin or source.  They expected you to be a source of their relief.  There is no reason why that still cannot be true, perhaps even more so now than ever before.”

Charis nodded.  It was her turn to be deep in thought.  After a few more minutes of walking in silence they came upon Semeion and Rhema.  Semeion embraced Charis with a hug, lifting her off the ground as he spun her around.  He noticed that she did not receive the hug as emphatically as he had given it.  “Charis?  What’s wrong?”

Charis looked deeply into Semeion’s eyes and replied, “My people are oppressed even harder than before as the price for my freedom.  But what’s worse is that Druff has made the true sacrifice.  He’s tortured daily so that my people can exist.”

Much of the meaning of Charis’ words was lost on both Semeion and Rhema, who had not been there to experience the sight of the village.  Before they could inquire further Ischarus continued the story.  His hope was that the future might snap Charis out of her pondering.  “Druff has been imprisoned in a cage similar to the one described by our ghostly friend as used in the goblin village.  It must be a popular form of torture used frequently in Quehalost.  On account of Druff’s condition, the village is even more turned against the oppression of their dragon father.  Interestingly enough, Druff has ironically become the catalyst for change.  The village may not listen to us, but apparently they will listen to Druff.  We have reason to believe that Druff can speak to our side.”

Rhema looked pleased at the news, if not a bit confused by the mention of Druff’s change of heart.  “Great!  So we’ll use Druff.  But can he be trusted?”

Semeion nodded with Rhema.  “Agreed.  If he’s truly changed we can trust him.  But I remember the ferocity that he attacked you with the last time the two of you met, Ischarus.  If it wasn’t for Rhema’s ability to charm him it might have been a different story being told here now.”

Charis snapped, the emotional outpouring of the day’s sights getting the best of her.  “You didn’t see him in the cage, Semeion.  You didn’t see how he has been tortured on my account!”

A single tear fell from Charis’ right eye, but the expression on her face told Semeion that this was not a tear of sorrow.  It was a tear of anger.  Semeion tried to reach out to her but she pushed him off.  Semeion looked to Ischarus for support.  He knew that he had been there to see what Charis had seen.

Ischarus picked up on Semeion’s look and replied. “With all due respect, Charis, we haven’t spoken with Druff.  We need to hear what he has to say first.”

Rhema looked questioningly at Ischarus.  “So you didn’t go into the village?”

Ischarus shook his head slowly.  “We went to the edge of the village and met an old friend who knew Charis.  She explained the past three months from her own perspective.  We have arranged for a meeting tonight with the villagers.  Well, actually the meeting is with as many heads of the families as we possibly can arrange.  Charis’ friend seemed to believe that the easiest way of gaining the support of the villagers would be to let Druff speak at the meeting.  That means that we’ll need to get Druff out of his locked hole and informed of our plan.”

Semeion smiled and brought his hands together in front of his face.  The tip of his nose rested on his two middle fingers as he thought for a minute.  “Of course, he’ll need to get back in as well.  But it can be done.  Get me close enough to that cage and it’ll be no problem.”

Semeion smiled as he was sure he had the answer.  As he looked to Charis, he realized that his promise of freeing Druff had given her more to ease her pain than he could imagine.  She slipped her hand into his and squeezed lightly.  “Then it is possible.  All we need to worry about is getting into the village at the appropriate time without my dragon father observing us.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Ischarus eventually caught up to Charis and in a whirling motion of intertwined bodies they tumbled to the ground. Fortunately for both of them neither of them landed on top of each other and the awkward moment of potential was avoided. Ischarus was the first one to stand up on his feet and he approached Charis with caution, fearing that she just might try and trip him. He reached out a hand and extended it to her as an offering of a sign of truce to get her onto her feet. He smiled as he spoke and his tone took a teasing position. “Now I caught you, so fess up. Where I come from Menshea is not a bad term, but it is definitely an unusual one. Menshea means something loosely translated to ‘Big Little Finger.’ I couldn’t help myself so I checked during that conversation. Your fingers aren’t oddly shaped at all. So there must be something about the name that I do not understand, right?”

Charis returned the smile and accepted Ischarus’ help up. “I suppose the name is not so much embarrassing as it is telling of my upbringing. It is a personal name given to me by my clan. Some people earn funny names while other people earn names that honestly reflect who they are. That is the case with me. I earned that name when I was little.”

Ischarus chuckled as he gestured to Charis indicating the direction that they had to travel to return to the party. “You used to have a big little finger but grew into it like a puppy who grows into their over-sized paws?”

Charis couldn’t help but laugh again at the suggestion. It showed some serious thought, but she knew he was headed down the wrong direction. “No, not quite. Have you ever heard it explained how a child has a parent wrapped around their little finger?”

Ischarus nodded as he pushed a branch out of the way. “Sure, it means that the child has learned how to manipulate a parent. Sometimes it means that they can make a certain face, or talk in a certain tone. Sometimes it means they just know when to ask. But yeah, I understand what you are getting at.”

Charis continued. “My people learned of my healing talent from almost day one. My mother recovered from my birth in record time. Her birth was nearly free from pain. Once I began to be able to walk I would occasionally heal people who might pick me up in the village. This fact was especially true if their scars and the like were visible. Once the elders of the village heard about my gift and saw it with their own eyes, they knew something had to be done immediately to protect me from our dragon father. It’s not that my dragon father would’ve killed me. Rather, he would have taken a keen interest in me and most likely corrupted my abilities. The elders of the village had other plans. Throughout the village I was given the name Menshea. The villagers had come to revere my gift and knew that I could help them if they got into trouble with the dragon father or even if an accident happened in a workshop or on a hunt. While I didn’t want to be, the villagers began to treat me differently than the rest of the children. I suppose my ability to heal meant that in some respect the village was wrapped around my little finger. I was called Menshea and the name became a self-fulfilling prophecy. That way people could talk about my gift without mentioning it specifically in the wrong company.”

Ischarus stopped, and Charis paused in her own walk a step or two before him. She turned, expecting to find something wrong. Instead, she found Ischarus standing there with a look of deep thought on his face. He was even lightly chewing upon his lower lip as he thought.

Charis looked to him in curiosity. “Ischarus?” It was enough to bring him back to reality.

Ischarus replied with a question of his own. “You meant much to your people, didn’t you? And now that you have tasted freedom, your people mean even more to you than before.”

Charis nodded and responded in return. “Yes. I took them for granted before I met you three. I saw them as pawns and I saw myself as their Provenience. I saw myself as the mother of the next generation of mighty blood introduced into our community for the glory of our dragon father.”

She paused, turned around, and began walking once more while she continued her answer. “Now I am too late to appreciate what they sacrificed for me. Had you three not intervened, I would have sacrificed their trust without even knowing what they had been giving to me. Sure, I understood their goals. But I am still young. More than likely I would have been swayed by the power of my position and been unable to do what they hoped I could.”

Ischarus reached out a hand and rested it upon her shoulder from behind. “The name Provenience means origin or source. They expected you to be a source of their relief. There is no reason why that still cannot be true, perhaps even more so now than ever before.”

Charis nodded. It was her turn to be deep in thought. After a few more minutes of walking in silence they came upon Semeion and Rhema. Semeion embraced Charis with a hug, lifting her off the ground as he spun her around. He noticed that she did not receive the hug as emphatically as he had given it. “Charis? What’s wrong?”

Charis looked deeply into Semeion’s eyes and replied, “My people are oppressed even harder than before as the price for my freedom. But what’s worse is that Druff has made the true sacrifice. He’s tortured daily so that my people can exist.”

Much of the meaning of Charis’ words was lost on both Semeion and Rhema, who had not been there to experience the sight of the village. Before they could inquire further Ischarus continued the story. His hope was that the future might snap Charis out of her pondering. “Druff has been imprisoned in a cage similar to the one described by our ghostly friend as used in the goblin village. It must be a popular form of torture used frequently in Quehalost. On account of Druff’s condition, the village is even more turned against the oppression of their dragon father. Interestingly enough, Druff has ironically become the catalyst for change. The village may not listen to us, but apparently they will listen to Druff. We have reason to believe that Druff can speak to our side.”

Rhema looked pleased at the news, if not a bit confused by the mention of Druff’s change of heart. “Great! So we’ll use Druff. But can he be trusted?”

Semeion nodded with Rhema. “Agreed. If he’s truly changed we can trust him. But I remember the ferocity that he attacked you with the last time the two of you met, Ischarus. If it wasn’t for Rhema’s ability to charm him it might have been a different story being told here now.”

Charis snapped, the emotional outpouring of the day’s sights getting the best of her. “You didn’t see him in the cage, Semeion. You didn’t see how he has been tortured on my account!”

A single tear fell from Charis’ right eye, but the expression on her face told Semeion that this was not a tear of sorrow. It was a tear of anger. Semeion tried to reach out to her but she pushed him off. Semeion looked to Ischarus for support. He knew that he had been there to see what Charis had seen.

Ischarus picked up on Semeion’s look and replied. “With all due respect, Charis, we haven’t spoken with Druff. We need to hear what he has to say first.”

Rhema looked questioningly at Ischarus. “So you didn’t go into the village?”

Ischarus shook his head slowly. “We went to the edge of the village and met an old friend who knew Charis. She explained the past three months from her own perspective. We have arranged for a meeting tonight with the villagers. Well, actually the meeting is with as many heads of the families as we possibly can arrange. Charis’ friend seemed to believe that the easiest way of gaining the support of the villagers would be to let Druff speak at the meeting. That means that we’ll need to get Druff out of his locked hole and informed of our plan.”

Semeion smiled and brought his hands together in front of his face. The tip of his nose rested on his two middle fingers as he thought for a minute. “Of course, he’ll need to get back in as well. But it can be done. Get me close enough to that cage and it’ll be no problem.”

Semeion smiled as he was sure he had the answer. As he looked to Charis, he realized that his promise of freeing Druff had given her more to ease her pain than he could imagine. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed lightly. “Then it is possible. All we need to worry about is getting into the village at the appropriate time without my dragon father observing us.”[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 26, 2006)

Nightfall came quick enough.  Semeion had spent the afternoon studying his spell book and smiling often.  He clearly had something interesting planned.  He cracked his knuckles often as he contemplated the best approach to the dilemma.  

Ischarus, Rhema, and even Charis spent the day scouting the nearby area.  Charis showed Rhema the area of her dragon father’s cave and discussed the various methods of entry.  When it was discovered that only an aerial entrance seemed to be possible, the light gray figure volunteered to scout out the area for the three figures.  Charis also knew that Druff would know more than she would.  Druff had been one of the father dragon’s most loyal supporters and met with the father dragon often.  He would know more than anyone about how to get to the dragon.

The foursome crept near the village as the sun descended into the sky.  The entire population of the village gathered around the flat stone altar.  The geography of the gathering meant that ironically the people had to gather around Druff as he sat in his cage.  As the sun touched the peak of the mountain in which the father dragon lived, the entire assembly of people bowed to the ground and touched their faces to the ground.  Charis mimicked their behavior from among the underbrush and none of her friends tried to stop her.  Ischarus and Semeion even looked on with deep interest in the ritual.  They knew that rituals like this one only reinforce the hold of magic in the world.  Only Rhema looked on with impatience.  Rhema seemed rather disinterested in the euphoria that seemed to gather among the people as they waited for the sun to pass behind the peak.  Instead, her eyes examined the mountain.  She was still looking for some crevasse or path that they had missed from the other angles from which they had looked.

It only took the sun a matter of minutes to descend beneath the peak of the mountain.  The sky was still bright with light, although in the direction of the mountain peak the horizon began to take on the reddish purple that always appeared before sunset.  As Charis bowed with her head to the ground and Semeion and Ischarus looked over the villagers’ traditional ceremony used to close the day, Rhema saw movement at the lip of the dragon’s main entrance.  A long neck appeared and shortly afterward a dragon form stood alone in plain sight.  

Grixanthrosilithiss stood stoically upon his mountainous perch.  Even from this distance the wyrm cast fear into Rhema’s heart, but she found that she was unable to force her glance away.  Grixanthrosilithiss looked so regal, yet dangerous.

From above, the red wyrm looked down upon his village.  All seemed typical from his position up above the village.  The villagers bowed low to the ground as the sky turned red.  Soon they would look up and see him as if the red in the sky was honoring him alone.  In his own vanity Grixanthrosilithiss counted the villagers.  With them bowed low to the ground and unmoving he was able to count them quite easily.  He smiled as he counted that they were all present.  He smiled even more as his glance passed over the small steel cage.  Grixanthrosilithiss spoke softly to the mountain beside him, “Druff will be passing from the unbearable heat of the day to the chill of night shortly.  I hope he enjoys the pain that his actions have brought upon him.  One of these days I’ll get around to forgiving him.  It is a good thing dragons have such long lives.  Perhaps in a century or two it’ll make my priority list.”  Grixanthrosilithiss chuckled at his own comment.

Grixanthrosilithiss didn’t see the four onlookers as they stood in the undergrowth at the forest edge, but Rhema did see him.  She wasn’t able to avert her gaze as the villagers rose from the ground in unison.  They had completed their evening meditation.  They rose to their knees and looked up to the perch high up on the face of the mountain.  They bowed their heads upon seeing Grixanthrosilithiss.

Xando new it was time to play the role of community leader.  “Hail to our dragon father who provides for our every need.”  His tone was flat and hollow.

The people responded in unison.  “In his wisdom he has formed us, we live to serve him.”  The response of the people matched the flatness and hollowness of Xando.  It was spoken as if their life depended upon it not because any who spoke the words truly believed it.  Even as Charis spoke the words, she spoke them flatly as one reciting a rote line and not one that contained any meaning.

Grixanthrosilithiss growled as his head sunk low.  He could not hear the responses of the villagers.  “Their faith has begun to fail them.  Perhaps their bondage needs to be drawn more tightly once again.  Perhaps tomorrow I will take their children from them until they work and worship with meaning.

There was suddenly another presence beside the dragon.  “Indeed, dragon father.  But what need have we for them?  Together we have created a new line, a most pure line.”

A tall woman stepped forward and joined Grixanthrosilithiss on the lip of the mountainous perch.  She had long legs and hair that descended down her back to her waist.  As the sunset faded and the reddish purple pigment increased the red highlights of the woman’s hair, it glinted strongly as if it were on fire.  She stood on the ledge and her hands caressed her abdomen.  She was only a few months pregnant but already she could feel the strength of what was growing inside of her.

Grixanthrosilithiss continued to chuckle as his replacement Provenience had spoken.  “Indeed.  And when your people have finished making weapons and armor for my army led by our children, I will enjoy killing them all.  I desire to grow fat off of their useless bodies.”

The woman looked down to the village below and remembered when she had been one of them.  For anyone who was able to observe them, it would be clear that she was drunk off of his power.  A scowl appeared on her face as she looked down on the villagers.  “I cannot believe that my own family would turn against you, my dragon father.  For turning their backs on you they don’t deserve to bask in your glory.  Without your protection, even the lowly goblin tribes would swarm over them.”

Grixanthrosilithiss laughed audibly as his Provenience spoke.  “Perhaps you are right.  Maybe I will let the goblin tribe invade and dine on their bodies.  Then I will get fat off of the goblin flesh.  I could expand my territory and feast at the same time.  I like how you think.  I am glad I chose you to bear my future elite warriors.”

The woman leaned over the edge and looked down, realizing that her parents were no doubt among those now kneeling.  In an act of defiance and disappointment she spat over the edge.  Rather than watch any longer, the Provenience turned on her heels and walked back into the dragon’s lair.

Grixanthrosilithiss also looked down to the villagers.  He had made him them kneel long enough.  He turned around and strutted back into his lair.  Once he disappeared from sight the villagers rose from their weary knees.  Charis rose with them from among the undergrowth of the forest.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Nightfall came quick enough. Semeion had spent the afternoon studying his spell book and smiling often. He clearly had something interesting planned. He cracked his knuckles often as he contemplated the best approach to the dilemma. 

Ischarus, Rhema, and even Charis spent the day scouting the nearby area. Charis showed Rhema the area of her dragon father’s cave and discussed the various methods of entry. When it was discovered that only an aerial entrance seemed to be possible, the light gray figure volunteered to scout out the area for the three figures. Charis also knew that Druff would know more than she would. Druff had been one of the father dragon’s most loyal supporters and met with the father dragon often. He would know more than anyone about how to get to the dragon.

The foursome crept near the village as the sun descended into the sky. The entire population of the village gathered around the flat stone altar. The geography of the gathering meant that ironically the people had to gather around Druff as he sat in his cage. As the sun touched the peak of the mountain in which the father dragon lived, the entire assembly of people bowed to the ground and touched their faces to the ground. Charis mimicked their behavior from among the underbrush and none of her friends tried to stop her. Ischarus and Semeion even looked on with deep interest in the ritual. They knew that rituals like this one only reinforce the hold of magic in the world. Only Rhema looked on with impatience. Rhema seemed rather disinterested in the euphoria that seemed to gather among the people as they waited for the sun to pass behind the peak. Instead, her eyes examined the mountain. She was still looking for some crevasse or path that they had missed from the other angles from which they had looked.

It only took the sun a matter of minutes to descend beneath the peak of the mountain. The sky was still bright with light, although in the direction of the mountain peak the horizon began to take on the reddish purple that always appeared before sunset. As Charis bowed with her head to the ground and Semeion and Ischarus looked over the villagers’ traditional ceremony used to close the day, Rhema saw movement at the lip of the dragon’s main entrance. A long neck appeared and shortly afterward a dragon form stood alone in plain sight. 

Grixanthrosilithiss stood stoically upon his mountainous perch. Even from this distance the wyrm cast fear into Rhema’s heart, but she found that she was unable to force her glance away. Grixanthrosilithiss looked so regal, yet dangerous.

From above, the red wyrm looked down upon his village. All seemed typical from his position up above the village. The villagers bowed low to the ground as the sky turned red. Soon they would look up and see him as if the red in the sky was honoring him alone. In his own vanity Grixanthrosilithiss counted the villagers. With them bowed low to the ground and unmoving he was able to count them quite easily. He smiled as he counted that they were all present. He smiled even more as his glance passed over the small steel cage. Grixanthrosilithiss spoke softly to the mountain beside him, “Druff will be passing from the unbearable heat of the day to the chill of night shortly. I hope he enjoys the pain that his actions have brought upon him. One of these days I’ll get around to forgiving him. It is a good thing dragons have such long lives. Perhaps in a century or two it’ll make my priority list.” Grixanthrosilithiss chuckled at his own comment.

Grixanthrosilithiss didn’t see the four onlookers as they stood in the undergrowth at the forest edge, but Rhema did see him. She wasn’t able to avert her gaze as the villagers rose from the ground in unison. They had completed their evening meditation. They rose to their knees and looked up to the perch high up on the face of the mountain. They bowed their heads upon seeing Grixanthrosilithiss.

Xando new it was time to play the role of community leader. “Hail to our dragon father who provides for our every need.” His tone was flat and hollow.

The people responded in unison. “In his wisdom he has formed us, we live to serve him.” The response of the people matched the flatness and hollowness of Xando. It was spoken as if their life depended upon it not because any who spoke the words truly believed it. Even as Charis spoke the words, she spoke them flatly as one reciting a rote line and not one that contained any meaning.

Grixanthrosilithiss growled as his head sunk low. He could not hear the responses of the villagers. “Their faith has begun to fail them. Perhaps their bondage needs to be drawn more tightly once again. Perhaps tomorrow I will take their children from them until they work and worship with meaning.

There was suddenly another presence beside the dragon. “Indeed, dragon father. But what need have we for them? Together we have created a new line, a most pure line.”

A tall woman stepped forward and joined Grixanthrosilithiss on the lip of the mountainous perch. She had long legs and hair that descended down her back to her waist. As the sunset faded and the reddish purple pigment increased the red highlights of the woman’s hair, it glinted strongly as if it were on fire. She stood on the ledge and her hands caressed her abdomen. She was only a few months pregnant but already she could feel the strength of what was growing inside of her.

Grixanthrosilithiss continued to chuckle as his replacement Provenience had spoken. “Indeed. And when your people have finished making weapons and armor for my army led by our children, I will enjoy killing them all. I desire to grow fat off of their useless bodies.”

The woman looked down to the village below and remembered when she had been one of them. For anyone who was able to observe them, it would be clear that she was drunk off of his power. A scowl appeared on her face as she looked down on the villagers. “I cannot believe that my own family would turn against you, my dragon father. For turning their backs on you they don’t deserve to bask in your glory. Without your protection, even the lowly goblin tribes would swarm over them.”

Grixanthrosilithiss laughed audibly as his Provenience spoke. “Perhaps you are right. Maybe I will let the goblin tribe invade and dine on their bodies. Then I will get fat off of the goblin flesh. I could expand my territory and feast at the same time. I like how you think. I am glad I chose you to bear my future elite warriors.”

The woman leaned over the edge and looked down, realizing that her parents were no doubt among those now kneeling. In an act of defiance and disappointment she spat over the edge. Rather than watch any longer, the Provenience turned on her heels and walked back into the dragon’s lair.

Grixanthrosilithiss also looked down to the villagers. He had made him them kneel long enough. He turned around and strutted back into his lair. Once he disappeared from sight the villagers rose from their weary knees. Charis rose with them from among the undergrowth of the forest.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Sep 28, 2006)

As the villagers rose, some went about bringing forth firewood and other means for kindling.  Charis turned to her friends and explained the action.  “Having finished worshipped the dragon father they are now into their free time.  Each morning begins with the ritual worship as the sun rises.  Once that ritual is complete, the people work in labor to the dragon father.  If they desire to eat, they must bring food with them and eat as they work.  The descending of the sun releases them from their day of service.  Now is their time to eat heartily, commune with the tribe, and sleep.  They will do none of that once the sun rises again.”

Ischarus smiled.  “They will do more eating and communing in a few days, Charis.  I swear by it.  At least I will die trying to make that a reality.”  Charis returned his smile. 

A voice called out from among the villagers.  “You will join us for the pig?”  It was Xando who spoke.  As he spoke into the edge of the forest he smiled broadly.

Semeion and Rhema were startled.  They hadn’t met Xando earlier and were unsure as to whether being seen was a good thing or a bad thing.  They were especially wary of anyone who potentially revealed their position to the dragon father.

Semeion cautioned the party before anyone could respond.  “Careful, we don’t know if the dragon father is watching.”

Rhema answered Semeion’s challenge.  “I watched the dragon father return to his lair.  He’s not watching any more.”

Semeion replied back to Rhema specifically.  “And you assume that the dragon father does not watch his tribe with magic?  There are many forms of second sight that are practically immune to detection.”

Xando interrupted the internal debate.  “I will bring you clothing so that you may look like us.  Our father dragon knows our number, but he does not know us as intimately by face as he knows his own treasure.  Now that we are moving about, he cannot keep count of all of us.”  Xando left no room for objection and made it clear by his tone that acceptance was assumed.  He spun on his heel and quickly turned to enter his simple home.  

After only a few minutes he returned with four sets of clothing.  “My wife was pleased to hear of your efforts to free Druff if only for an evening.  If you can do that much you will be heroes among my people tonight.  Our people will honor you and they will listen to Druff.  If you have a plan, the more of it you can sell to Druff and have him explain the more of it our people will accept without argument.  Now come, put these on and enter our feast.”

As the foursome were putting the simple robes of the villagers over their own clothes, the light gray figure arrived in their midst.  It was growing dark, so the figure was intentional about revealing himself before beginning to speak.  “I believe it can work, assuming that you all are willing to split up.”

Ischarus offered a sideways glance to the figure.  Semeion beat him to the punch as far as inquiry, however.  “What have you learned?  Tell us that and I’ll tell you whether or we’ll consider splitting up.”

The ghostly figure offered a simple smile and continued his explanation.  “Well, for starters I am a ghost.  The dragon cannot kill me.  The dragon can destroy this hollow shell, but that has been destroyed in the past.  Each time I am destroyed by weapons made on this world I hope for ultimate death and passing into the next life.  Each time it never comes.  Instead, it is as if I awaken from a sleep the next morning and find myself standing next to the slab upon which I was burned.  So I do not fear the dragon’s power.  While his magic is no doubt impressive, I doubt he will be prepared to have the magic necessary to deal with me on those kinds of terms.”

The figure paused as if it needed to catch its breath.  The party knew by now that the figure did not need to breathe and rather it was a mere convention held over from the residual consciousness of the light gray figure.  His mind was trained to need a breath and thus he paused.  

Rhema couldn’t help but laugh at the ineffective inhalation that the light gray figure presented.  “Go on then.  I think I know where you are leading and if so I like what you are thinking.”

The figure nodded.  “Indeed you should.  I’ve noticed that you have the most interest in getting a look at the dragon’s cave and removing a particular item.  But what I propose is that we use the dragon’s greed against him.  He can move faster than I can, but I have a much greater maneuverability.  Being a ghost has those kinds of advantages.  I can turn immediately without worrying of things like momentum and trees.  The dragon will not be so lucky.  I visited his lair today without his knowing it.  It will be no matter at all for me to steal a piece of his treasure and escape with a short lead.  The dragon will follow.  I think we all know of the greed of this dragon.”

Ischarus smiled brightly.  “Ah, yes.  Bless him for being a red!  Greed will consume all and the treasure that you take will be the greatest offense he could imagine.”

The light gray figure snapped his fingers together and then pointed to Ischarus.  There was no sound coming from the transparent fingers as they snapped.  The figure looked a bit on the disappointed side but continued in his plan anyway.  “When the dragon follows me, all I have to do is give him a big enough chase to give you time to steal into the lair.”

Rhema smiled.  “Yes.  This is where I was hoping that you were headed.  I like this plan so far.  No offense, but it puts the dragon in a position of doing harm only to one that cannot be destroyed by it.  That is my favorite kind of plan.”

Charis nodded.  “Additionally, it means that we need not all be present in the cave.  I could stay here and lead my people away quickly.  If we even had an hour to move we could be in the tunnels and on our way to Quehalost.  Two hours and we could be in the tunnels with provisions.”

Ischarus smiled as if he were enjoying the plan.  “I will stay here and help you move the people, Charis.  You are of them, and I am easily recognizable by these people as a cousin to their own kind.  And actually, there is no reason we couldn’t start establishing a stockpile of supplies at the tunnel entrance.  If we worked under the cover of night for a day or two, we could amass enough for your village to live on for a few weeks underground.”

Rhema nodded, “Good, because once the dragon finds that a young one has been removed from his lair and his village has been stolen from under his watchful eye I don’t imagine the mountain will stop him.  He’ll know the entrance we used and will likely know the exit.  We may need to stay in the mountain for a long time.

Ischarus nodded thoughtfully.  “Indeed.”

Semeion added, “I’d like to go with Rhema.  I’ll be of little use here in the village.  They’ll listen to Druff and you two far before me.  Besides, with my knowledge of the arcane I might be of some use in the dragon’s cave.”

Ischarus nodded again.  Charis gave Semeion a worried look but only spoke words of encouragement.  “Be careful when you go.”

Xando called out from the edge of the forest.  There was a definite sense of impatience in his voice.  “Well, are you coming?  Certainly you’ve changed by now!  And by all means, keep your hoods up.”

Charis breathed deeply and smiled.  “It will be good to be among my people again, although Xando is right.  We should not reveal ourselves before the meeting, especially me.  Semeion, you are still getting Druff out of his cage and back in again?”

Semeion smiled with a thoughtful look of pleasure on his face.  “But of course!”

Charis returned his smile.  “Well then.  I suggest that you be the only one to pay Druff any attention.  Explain our plan to him.  When the food is eaten, the people will go to their homes.  As they go, do your thing towards the end.  Try not to be seen, but do not wait too long.  As the crowd thins, you will be more visible if my dragon father is watching.”

Semeion nodded and rose to his feet.  “Good.  You say this man’s name is Xando and he can be trusted?”

Charis was the only one who nodded.  She gave Semeion a look that encouraged him to be careful.  Semeion only replied with a smile and stepped past her in the direction of Xando.  From where they sat, they could hear Semeion engage Xando in conversation.

As the mage approached the leader of the Drakontai village, he spoke softly in order to keep the subject of the conversation private.  “So, you must be Xando.  Tell me, could you very discretely lead me around the village and end up beside Druff?  It seems I’d like to have a few words with him.”  The party couldn’t see it, but Xando smiled brilliantly.  Semeion was led away and spent much of the next two hours talking with his one time enemy in Druff.

The trio remaining behind within the forest left the light gray figure to stand in the woods alone.  They entered the village together.  The trio huddled amongst each other for the large majority of the night.  As they stood among the people, Charis gradually explained her life and the duties of the people.  They ate when the pig had been sliced and then roasted properly.  Although they tried to refrain from looking in Semeion’s direction to long, each of them couldn’t help but wonder at how their messenger was making out in his conversation with Druff.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
As the villagers rose, some went about bringing forth firewood and other means for kindling. Charis turned to her friends and explained the action. “Having finished worshipped the dragon father they are now into their free time. Each morning begins with the ritual worship as the sun rises. Once that ritual is complete, the people work in labor to the dragon father. If they desire to eat, they must bring food with them and eat as they work. The descending of the sun releases them from their day of service. Now is their time to eat heartily, commune with the tribe, and sleep. They will do none of that once the sun rises again.”

Ischarus smiled. “They will do more eating and communing in a few days, Charis. I swear by it. At least I will die trying to make that a reality.” Charis returned his smile. 

A voice called out from among the villagers. “You will join us for the pig?” It was Xando who spoke. As he spoke into the edge of the forest he smiled broadly.

Semeion and Rhema were startled. They hadn’t met Xando earlier and were unsure as to whether being seen was a good thing or a bad thing. They were especially wary of anyone who potentially revealed their position to the dragon father.

Semeion cautioned the party before anyone could respond. “Careful, we don’t know if the dragon father is watching.”

Rhema answered Semeion’s challenge. “I watched the dragon father return to his lair. He’s not watching any more.”

Semeion replied back to Rhema specifically. “And you assume that the dragon father does not watch his tribe with magic? There are many forms of second sight that are practically immune to detection.”

Xando interrupted the internal debate. “I will bring you clothing so that you may look like us. Our father dragon knows our number, but he does not know us as intimately by face as he knows his own treasure. Now that we are moving about, he cannot keep count of all of us.” Xando left no room for objection and made it clear by his tone that acceptance was assumed. He spun on his heel and quickly turned to enter his simple home. 

After only a few minutes he returned with four sets of clothing. “My wife was pleased to hear of your efforts to free Druff if only for an evening. If you can do that much you will be heroes among my people tonight. Our people will honor you and they will listen to Druff. If you have a plan, the more of it you can sell to Druff and have him explain the more of it our people will accept without argument. Now come, put these on and enter our feast.”

As the foursome were putting the simple robes of the villagers over their own clothes, the light gray figure arrived in their midst. It was growing dark, so the figure was intentional about revealing himself before beginning to speak. “I believe it can work, assuming that you all are willing to split up.”

Ischarus offered a sideways glance to the figure. Semeion beat him to the punch as far as inquiry, however. “What have you learned? Tell us that and I’ll tell you whether or we’ll consider splitting up.”

The ghostly figure offered a simple smile and continued his explanation. “Well, for starters I am a ghost. The dragon cannot kill me. The dragon can destroy this hollow shell, but that has been destroyed in the past. Each time I am destroyed by weapons made on this world I hope for ultimate death and passing into the next life. Each time it never comes. Instead, it is as if I awaken from a sleep the next morning and find myself standing next to the slab upon which I was burned. So I do not fear the dragon’s power. While his magic is no doubt impressive, I doubt he will be prepared to have the magic necessary to deal with me on those kinds of terms.”

The figure paused as if it needed to catch its breath. The party knew by now that the figure did not need to breathe and rather it was a mere convention held over from the residual consciousness of the light gray figure. His mind was trained to need a breath and thus he paused. 

Rhema couldn’t help but laugh at the ineffective inhalation that the light gray figure presented. “Go on then. I think I know where you are leading and if so I like what you are thinking.”

The figure nodded. “Indeed you should. I’ve noticed that you have the most interest in getting a look at the dragon’s cave and removing a particular item. But what I propose is that we use the dragon’s greed against him. He can move faster than I can, but I have a much greater maneuverability. Being a ghost has those kinds of advantages. I can turn immediately without worrying of things like momentum and trees. The dragon will not be so lucky. I visited his lair today without his knowing it. It will be no matter at all for me to steal a piece of his treasure and escape with a short lead. The dragon will follow. I think we all know of the greed of this dragon.”

Ischarus smiled brightly. “Ah, yes. Bless him for being a red! Greed will consume all and the treasure that you take will be the greatest offense he could imagine.”

The light gray figure snapped his fingers together and then pointed to Ischarus. There was no sound coming from the transparent fingers as they snapped. The figure looked a bit on the disappointed side but continued in his plan anyway. “When the dragon follows me, all I have to do is give him a big enough chase to give you time to steal into the lair.”

Rhema smiled. “Yes. This is where I was hoping that you were headed. I like this plan so far. No offense, but it puts the dragon in a position of doing harm only to one that cannot be destroyed by it. That is my favorite kind of plan.”

Charis nodded. “Additionally, it means that we need not all be present in the cave. I could stay here and lead my people away quickly. If we even had an hour to move we could be in the tunnels and on our way to Quehalost. Two hours and we could be in the tunnels with provisions.”

Ischarus smiled as if he were enjoying the plan. “I will stay here and help you move the people, Charis. You are of them, and I am easily recognizable by these people as a cousin to their own kind. And actually, there is no reason we couldn’t start establishing a stockpile of supplies at the tunnel entrance. If we worked under the cover of night for a day or two, we could amass enough for your village to live on for a few weeks underground.”

Rhema nodded, “Good, because once the dragon finds that a young one has been removed from his lair and his village has been stolen from under his watchful eye I don’t imagine the mountain will stop him. He’ll know the entrance we used and will likely know the exit. We may need to stay in the mountain for a long time.

Ischarus nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed.”

Semeion added, “I’d like to go with Rhema. I’ll be of little use here in the village. They’ll listen to Druff and you two far before me. Besides, with my knowledge of the arcane I might be of some use in the dragon’s cave.”

Ischarus nodded again. Charis gave Semeion a worried look but only spoke words of encouragement. “Be careful when you go.”

Xando called out from the edge of the forest. There was a definite sense of impatience in his voice. “Well, are you coming? Certainly you’ve changed by now! And by all means, keep your hoods up.”

Charis breathed deeply and smiled. “It will be good to be among my people again, although Xando is right. We should not reveal ourselves before the meeting, especially me. Semeion, you are still getting Druff out of his cage and back in again?”

Semeion smiled with a thoughtful look of pleasure on his face. “But of course!”

Charis returned his smile. “Well then. I suggest that you be the only one to pay Druff any attention. Explain our plan to him. When the food is eaten, the people will go to their homes. As they go, do your thing towards the end. Try not to be seen, but do not wait too long. As the crowd thins, you will be more visible if my dragon father is watching.”

Semeion nodded and rose to his feet. “Good. You say this man’s name is Xando and he can be trusted?”

Charis was the only one who nodded. She gave Semeion a look that encouraged him to be careful. Semeion only replied with a smile and stepped past her in the direction of Xando. From where they sat, they could hear Semeion engage Xando in conversation.

As the mage approached the leader of the Drakontai village, he spoke softly in order to keep the subject of the conversation private. “So, you must be Xando. Tell me, could you very discretely lead me around the village and end up beside Druff? It seems I’d like to have a few words with him.” The party couldn’t see it, but Xando smiled brilliantly. Semeion was led away and spent much of the next two hours talking with his one time enemy in Druff.

The trio remaining behind within the forest left the light gray figure to stand in the woods alone. They entered the village together. The trio huddled amongst each other for the large majority of the night. As they stood among the people, Charis gradually explained her life and the duties of the people. They ate when the pig had been sliced and then roasted properly. Although they tried to refrain from looking in Semeion’s direction to long, each of them couldn’t help but wonder at how their messenger was making out in his conversation with Druff.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Oct 2, 2006)

After a time of eating and hurried fellowship among the community, the villagers began to disappear into their primitive homes.  Xando nodded to Charis from across the flames that still leapt up as if in a mad frenzied attempt to lick the stars.  Charis received the nod and mentally flashed back to her life within the village from only a few months ago.  

A few moments later she turned back to Ischarus and with a wordless look had his attention.  Charis turned her head to one of the primitive wood and sod constructions and nodded.  “Xando is retiring.  I think it is probably a good idea that we follow him individually and not as a group.  Ischarus should go first and make sure that everything is ready.  Watch as the people come into the building.  We’ve been well received so far, but I can’t help but believe that there has to be a few in the village that would prefer to betray us to win the favor of my father dragon.  Even though he is a tyrant, there are those that only care about evading his wrath.  A few in this village would even do so at the expense of their own village.”

Ischarus walked past Semeion on his way to Xando’s home.  As he did, Ischarus looked into the cage at the poor man who was present.  Druff was in such obvious discomfort and from this distance Ischarus could hardly believe this was the same man that had opposed him so efficiently a few months back.  As he passed by, he gave a nod of honor in the direction of Druff.

Charis turned to Rhema once Ischarus had departed.  “Rhema, follow him shortly and work with the crowd that is gathering in Xando’s home.  Don’t be afraid to use your methods of attraction and your charming personality.  Xando and I can make anything seem natural.  Besides, from what I understand we simply need to make sure nothing happens until Druff arrives.”

Rhema nodded without replying.  She scouted out another path to use to get to Xando’s home.  Once Ischarus was inside Rhema departed.  Semeion turned to scout out Charis, noticing that the crowd was beginning to thin.  Charis caught his eye and gave him a simple smile.  That was all that was needed to be reassured that the plan was going well.

Semeion’s hand slipped out of the end of his sleeve and he raised it just outside the bars.  The frail hand of Druff reached out for a brief second and Semeion softly chanted the magical words which would unlock the desired power.  “Su-ah Skrie-tok”  Once Semeion had run through the chant a few times Druff began to feel the magic at work inside.  Semeion quickly nodded and Druff removed his hand before the dark gray magical light that was enveloping him could be seen from outside the cage.

Druff’s body began to shrink inside the cage.  Slowly he was reduced to half his regular size.  A brief smile came over his face as he realized that his six foot frame was now only three feet tall.  He rose to his feet unsteadily and discovered that he was easily able to stand within the confines of the cage.  He stretched, curling his arms over his head and snapping the kinks out of his neck.

Semeion looked pleased to see Druff’s burden relieved even if for so short a time.  “Come, Druff.  The spell will only work for a few minutes.  We must have you inside Xando’s home before it wears off.  Otherwise the magical energy will be detectable by sight if your dragon father is watching.”

Druff nodded and ended his stretch prematurely.  “Very well, let’s go then.”  He slipped through the bars of the cage.  It was still a tight fit, but he managed to do it without much difficulty.  The cage only swayed briefly before Semeion casually reach out to hold it steady.  In a second Druff had jumped to the ground and slipped inside Semeion’s robe.  The magically shortened figure clung to Druff’s waist and his body draped itself along Semeion’s right leg.  Druff stood on the top of Semeion’s foot so that as Semeion walked Druff’s own feet could not be seen.

Rhema climbed the steps to Xando’s home.  As she slipped inside, she could see that Semeion was quickly making his way for the home.  He took the most direct route possible knowing that the magic would not last long.  She slipped inside and waited for the sound of Semeion climbing the steps.  When she heard the sound of his feet laboring to move under the added weight, she cautiously opened the door and allowed Semeion to enter with his pint sized baggage.  Once inside, Druff emerged from Semeion’s cloak.

Rhema and Ischarus were both surprised to see Druff come out so small.  They weren’t sure what exactly Semeion was planning, but somehow this was not what they expected.  The few villagers who had already been gathered into the home gasped with wide-eyed terror.  They clamored for an explanation in outrage.

Druff raised his hands.  It was a move that he typically made to get people’s attention, but now he was small enough for it to only be seen by those immediately present.  Xando was more able to draw their attention and bring them to silence.  Yet before Druff could speak the magical dark gray energy surrounded him once more and he began to expand.  In a matter of seconds he reverted back to his original size.  He naturally hunched over due to spending so much time in the cage.

The door to the outside opened once more and Charis came in.  She was quickly followed by several villagers.  Ischarus quickly allowed the villagers in and then examined them for hidden weapons.  Finding none, he admitted them into the room.  This procedure happened frequently over the next half hour.  One or two villagers would discretely come to the door and almost magically be sucked inside out of view from above.  The fire had begun to die and the sun was now completely gone from the sky.  Visibility was more and more difficult and this allowed the villagers to feel confident about gathering.

Once they were all present, Xando rose to his feet and helped Druff to stand.  “Friends,” Xando began, using the voice that he had often use to speak to crowds, “You all know of the sacrifice that Druff bears for our village.  We live in freedom because he is enslaved.  But if you are courageous we can all be free – especially Druff.”

Most of the villagers looked over to the Charis and her three friends with suspicion.  One villager interrupted Xando and yelled, “We tried this before, and most of us were captured or left for dead.  We have no desire to increase the brutality of our enslavement!”

Druff smiled underneath his long greasy hair.  He reached up a hand to pull back the bangs so that his scarred face could be seen and his smile exposed.  “Timmon, friend.  I know you are merely looking out for what is best for your family.  But the escape before was unplanned.  It was a spur of the moment decision and in truth our escape was simply a means to provide an escape route for our Provenience.  It was the best that could be done at the time because the pieces necessary to successfully leave were not in place.  Too many of us wanted to live under the father dragon to be convinced to leave reasonably.  Too many of us, myself included, had not seen the cruelty of our father dragon for what it truly is.  Plans simply could not have been made because we would not have been willing to listen.  Rather, we would have told on those who would seek to free us in an attempt to impress our father dragon.  Now that is not the case.”

Timmon looked to the floor, unwilling to counter Druff’s speech.  Another man spoke up, “How do we know we can trust them?  They left us for dead before!”

Druff smiled again, and he began to rock back and forth as his legs grew tired from standing.  Xando offered an arm of support to Druff but the weary leader of his people refused politely.  “Andrus, what you say is true.  But the elders of our people knew what they were doing when they chose the Provenience.  They knew she was filled with compassion.  These four need not have come back into this land to risk their lives.  We did not even ask them too.  In fact, several of our father dragon’s warriors were sent forth with a mission to kill the Provenience and anyone that got in their way.  By all rights, they should have stayed away in their own freedom.  But the Provenience could not stay away from her people.  She has come to bring healing to our people.  Not in the way that our elders planned before, of course.  She has come to bring permanent healing to our people.  Before, these people came to disrupt our dragon father’s cycle of reproducing warriors through our Provenience.  This time they have come with the freedom of the whole village as their goal.”

Druff’s voice slowed and he spoke with a slow rhythm that occasionally sounded more like a gasp of air than an actual attempt to speak.  The villagers seemed to have no trouble understanding him.  Charis, Rhema, Ischarus, and Semeion each had to strain to make out his words.  For the moment, the villagers seemed quite captured by his words and belief in the plan for freedom.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
After a time of eating and hurried fellowship among the community, the villagers began to disappear into their primitive homes. Xando nodded to Charis from across the flames that still leapt up as if in a mad frenzied attempt to lick the stars. Charis received the nod and mentally flashed back to her life within the village from only a few months ago. 

A few moments later she turned back to Ischarus and with a wordless look had his attention. Charis turned her head to one of the primitive wood and sod constructions and nodded. “Xando is retiring. I think it is probably a good idea that we follow him individually and not as a group. Ischarus should go first and make sure that everything is ready. Watch as the people come into the building. We’ve been well received so far, but I can’t help but believe that there has to be a few in the village that would prefer to betray us to win the favor of my father dragon. Even though he is a tyrant, there are those that only care about evading his wrath. A few in this village would even do so at the expense of their own village.”

Ischarus walked past Semeion on his way to Xando’s home. As he did, Ischarus looked into the cage at the poor man who was present. Druff was in such obvious discomfort and from this distance Ischarus could hardly believe this was the same man that had opposed him so efficiently a few months back. As he passed by, he gave a nod of honor in the direction of Druff.

Charis turned to Rhema once Ischarus had departed. “Rhema, follow him shortly and work with the crowd that is gathering in Xando’s home. Don’t be afraid to use your methods of attraction and your charming personality. Xando and I can make anything seem natural. Besides, from what I understand we simply need to make sure nothing happens until Druff arrives.”

Rhema nodded without replying. She scouted out another path to use to get to Xando’s home. Once Ischarus was inside Rhema departed. Semeion turned to scout out Charis, noticing that the crowd was beginning to thin. Charis caught his eye and gave him a simple smile. That was all that was needed to be reassured that the plan was going well.

Semeion’s hand slipped out of the end of his sleeve and he raised it just outside the bars. The frail hand of Druff reached out for a brief second and Semeion softly chanted the magical words which would unlock the desired power. “Su-ah Skrie-tok” Once Semeion had run through the chant a few times Druff began to feel the magic at work inside. Semeion quickly nodded and Druff removed his hand before the dark gray magical light that was enveloping him could be seen from outside the cage.

Druff’s body began to shrink inside the cage. Slowly he was reduced to half his regular size. A brief smile came over his face as he realized that his six foot frame was now only three feet tall. He rose to his feet unsteadily and discovered that he was easily able to stand within the confines of the cage. He stretched, curling his arms over his head and snapping the kinks out of his neck.

Semeion looked pleased to see Druff’s burden relieved even if for so short a time. “Come, Druff. The spell will only work for a few minutes. We must have you inside Xando’s home before it wears off. Otherwise the magical energy will be detectable by sight if your dragon father is watching.”

Druff nodded and ended his stretch prematurely. “Very well, let’s go then.” He slipped through the bars of the cage. It was still a tight fit, but he managed to do it without much difficulty. The cage only swayed briefly before Semeion casually reach out to hold it steady. In a second Druff had jumped to the ground and slipped inside Semeion’s robe. The magically shortened figure clung to Druff’s waist and his body draped itself along Semeion’s right leg. Druff stood on the top of Semeion’s foot so that as Semeion walked Druff’s own feet could not be seen.

Rhema climbed the steps to Xando’s home. As she slipped inside, she could see that Semeion was quickly making his way for the home. He took the most direct route possible knowing that the magic would not last long. She slipped inside and waited for the sound of Semeion climbing the steps. When she heard the sound of his feet laboring to move under the added weight, she cautiously opened the door and allowed Semeion to enter with his pint sized baggage. Once inside, Druff emerged from Semeion’s cloak.

Rhema and Ischarus were both surprised to see Druff come out so small. They weren’t sure what exactly Semeion was planning, but somehow this was not what they expected. The few villagers who had already been gathered into the home gasped with wide-eyed terror. They clamored for an explanation in outrage.

Druff raised his hands. It was a move that he typically made to get people’s attention, but now he was small enough for it to only be seen by those immediately present. Xando was more able to draw their attention and bring them to silence. Yet before Druff could speak the magical dark gray energy surrounded him once more and he began to expand. In a matter of seconds he reverted back to his original size. He naturally hunched over due to spending so much time in the cage.

The door to the outside opened once more and Charis came in. She was quickly followed by several villagers. Ischarus quickly allowed the villagers in and then examined them for hidden weapons. Finding none, he admitted them into the room. This procedure happened frequently over the next half hour. One or two villagers would discretely come to the door and almost magically be sucked inside out of view from above. The fire had begun to die and the sun was now completely gone from the sky. Visibility was more and more difficult and this allowed the villagers to feel confident about gathering.

Once they were all present, Xando rose to his feet and helped Druff to stand. “Friends,” Xando began, using the voice that he had often use to speak to crowds, “You all know of the sacrifice that Druff bears for our village. We live in freedom because he is enslaved. But if you are courageous we can all be free – especially Druff.”

Most of the villagers looked over to the Charis and her three friends with suspicion. One villager interrupted Xando and yelled, “We tried this before, and most of us were captured or left for dead. We have no desire to increase the brutality of our enslavement!”

Druff smiled underneath his long greasy hair. He reached up a hand to pull back the bangs so that his scarred face could be seen and his smile exposed. “Timmon, friend. I know you are merely looking out for what is best for your family. But the escape before was unplanned. It was a spur of the moment decision and in truth our escape was simply a means to provide an escape route for our Provenience. It was the best that could be done at the time because the pieces necessary to successfully leave were not in place. Too many of us wanted to live under the father dragon to be convinced to leave reasonably. Too many of us, myself included, had not seen the cruelty of our father dragon for what it truly is. Plans simply could not have been made because we would not have been willing to listen. Rather, we would have told on those who would seek to free us in an attempt to impress our father dragon. Now that is not the case.”

Timmon looked to the floor, unwilling to counter Druff’s speech. Another man spoke up, “How do we know we can trust them? They left us for dead before!”

Druff smiled again, and he began to rock back and forth as his legs grew tired from standing. Xando offered an arm of support to Druff but the weary leader of his people refused politely. “Andrus, what you say is true. But the elders of our people knew what they were doing when they chose the Provenience. They knew she was filled with compassion. These four need not have come back into this land to risk their lives. We did not even ask them too. In fact, several of our father dragon’s warriors were sent forth with a mission to kill the Provenience and anyone that got in their way. By all rights, they should have stayed away in their own freedom. But the Provenience could not stay away from her people. She has come to bring healing to our people. Not in the way that our elders planned before, of course. She has come to bring permanent healing to our people. Before, these people came to disrupt our dragon father’s cycle of reproducing warriors through our Provenience. This time they have come with the freedom of the whole village as their goal.”

Druff’s voice slowed and he spoke with a slow rhythm that occasionally sounded more like a gasp of air than an actual attempt to speak. The villagers seemed to have no trouble understanding him. Charis, Rhema, Ischarus, and Semeion each had to strain to make out his words. For the moment, the villagers seemed quite captured by his words and belief in the plan for freedom.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Oct 3, 2006)

*Chapter Eleven: PARTY DUBIETY*

A middle aged man stepped to the front of the group gathered in Xando’s home and prepared to sternly speak his mind.  As he did, he glared deep into Charis’ eyes with hatred.  “And what of my daughter?”  He extended a finger towards Charis and stepped forward menacingly.  Ischarus instinctively placed his hand on the hilt of his long sword and drew it an inch out of its scabbard.  

Druff held up a weak hand for Ischarus to stop.  His raspy voice continued out of his mouth, “Let the man speak, Ischarus.”

The angry man continued, “You were supposed to be the Provenience.  Your gifts would have made our lives better.  My daughter had to take your place while you ran.  She now lives in that cave, impregnated by the seed of our father.  What will she do when we all leave?  The dragon father will likely slaughter her out of his rage against us!”

Ischarus breathed deeply and replied before Charis could properly respond.  “Do you not know what fate rests for any provenience of an evil dragon, especially of a red?”  A thick silence hung in the air.  The gathering waited to see if Ischarus would finish what he started.  “Your daughter will be bred until her body can take no more seed.  Then in a great sacrifice that you have all been brainwashed into honoring, she will likely be consumed by fire and most likely eaten.  Is that what you want for your daughter?  Would you have her consumed while you idly go about you and your people’s tormented lives?”

Several of the men gasped at the straightforward approach that Ischarus took.  He had been bold and proclaimed the truth of the event while treading upon the whole sacred symbolism and exaltation that would come to the Provenience.  In their minds, she was to be praised for being the one to nourish the dragon father since he had provided his biological seed.  Ischarus had stripped the glory of the ritual down and removed the symbolic greatness that supposedly existed in the celebration.  The middle-aged man locked eyes with Ischarus and they began to stare one another down.  Both men refused to break their gaze.

Charis stepped forward, but kept herself slightly behind Ischarus’ right shoulder.  “I know what you are saying and I would have preferred it to have been me to take her place.  But things cannot be that way again.  My friends have come along and shown me the better path.  Now we have all come back to show you all a better path.  We have come to show you a path in which your talents are appreciated rather than abused.  If you stay here, there is only death waiting for you.  You are being worked to the bone and slowly dying.  You will die prematurely under the strict labor that our dragon father has for you.  Is that the life you would wish on anyone?  Is it really worth the assumed glory that the celebration brings?  Or is it perhaps that you wish she had not been selected in the first place?  If you could, would you desire her to be stripped from her position even now?”

The man broke his gaze with Ischarus and shot a hurt glance at Charis.  “What would you know of it?  You were unable to complete what had been asked of you.”

Ischarus began to speak again but Druff silenced him with another hand gesture.  Ischarus could see in Druff’s face that this was not a time to get involved.  This battle was to be fought between the Provenience who was taken and the man whose daughter was forced to take her place.

Charis replied, “I was strapped to the stone and scorched under the sun until my skin burned and I was delirious.  I offered myself completely and wholly on that day.  You and I both know that if our dragon father was not so greedy in demanding a display of suffering that I would have been long gone before my new friends arrived and took me kicking and screaming from that altar.  If our dragon father had an ounce of mercy in his bones he would have accepted the offering without forcing me – and your daughter – to suffer.  That is simply evil at its worst.  I cannot in good conscience begin to support it or even pretend it doesn’t exist.  That is all it is, pure and simple.  It is pure evil.”

Semeion added, “And it is an evil that we can save you from.”

The man whose daughter carried the unborn draconic children of the father dragon cast a menacing glance to Semeion.  Druff cast a silencing glance to Semeion, but Rhema would not be silenced so easily as her male counterparts.  She smiled as she focused her mind on the man.  “Would you be appeased if I promised to bring her safely from his lair?”

A murmur shot through those in attendance.  Even Charis and Ischarus were amazed to here Rhema make such a statement.  Ischarus was able to detect the tone Rhema was using.  It was the tone that meant she was trying to charm the man and calm down his emotions.  Yet the claim still seemed to be outrageous.

It was enough to dislodge the man from his anger.  “You can make such a promise?” he stammered.  He had clearly been caught off-guard by the radical assertion.

Ischarus also turned around and looked to Rhema.  “Rhema, the new Provenience is going to be enthralled by the draconic presence.  There’s no way that you can overcome that.  Plus, the father dragon will pursue us only harder if we take both his future generals in addition to the villagers.  By taking the Provenience and all the villagers we take his ability to breed completely away.  He’ll know that hunting us down will be easier than starting completely over from scratch.  You can’t possibly think that such a plan is possible!”

Rhema merely smiled as Ischarus spoke and focused back on the man.  “Not only will I make such a promise, but I will die trying to fulfill it if necessary.  If you promise to be there when I bring her to you so that you can restrain her, I promise to bring her.  She’ll not want to come willingly.  I think you know that.”

A smile passed over Charis lips as Rhema spoke.  She glanced to Semeion as her mind drifted back in memory.  “She’ll be more resistant than I was.  I was brainwashed and delirious from the sun.  She’ll not only be enthralled but also be carrying her future away from its place of glory every step of the way.

The man who had challenged Charis caught her eyes and for a second they shared a sympathetic look.  “What you speak is madness!” he exclaimed.

A thin raspy voice broke through the commotion.  As everyone heard Druff try to speak, they were immediately silenced.  “It is not impossible.  How many of you thought we would again see the Provenience who was stolen from us?  Yet here she is.  How many of you thought we would taste freedom once our dragon father gathered us in from our hiding?  Yet here we are.  How many of you have ever thought that those outside of our clan would risk their own livelihood for our sake?  Yet they have risked their lives so that I might taste a few minutes of standing outside my cage.” 

Druff’s breathing grew considerably shallow as he spoke and got himself excited.  This was the longest he’d been on his feet for almost two months now.  In spite of his difficulty, it was important to bring his speech to a positive conclusion.  “Yet here I stand in freedom.  If they can come into the territory of our dragon father and bring this small morsel of freedom to me, I believe it is a sign that they can bring freedom to us all.  And that includes the new Provenience.”

Druff stopped speaking and lightly collapsed onto Xando’s elbow.  Xando had noticed that Druff was growing weaker with each assertion and prepared himself to catch the proud and once strong defender of the village.  As Druff collapsed into Xando’s right arm, the gathered leaders all focused silently upon him.  Even the foursome who had come from Tongra found themselves caught up in the power of Druff’s demonstration.

After a few seconds of watching Druff, Ischarus turned back to Rhema.  His lips formed the sentence, “You’d better be right.”  Yet in spite of the movement of his lips no sound came out of his mouth.  Rhema turned to Semeion and caught his eye, nodding to him.  She looked back to Ischarus.  Without sound, her lips mouthed the words, “I am.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Chapter Eleven: PARTY DUBIETY

A middle aged man stepped to the front of the group gathered in Xando’s home and prepared to sternly speak his mind. As he did, he glared deep into Charis’ eyes with hatred. “And what of my daughter?” He extended a finger towards Charis and stepped forward menacingly. Ischarus instinctively placed his hand on the hilt of his long sword and drew it an inch out of its scabbard. 

Druff held up a weak hand for Ischarus to stop. His raspy voice continued out of his mouth, “Let the man speak, Ischarus.”

The angry man continued, “You were supposed to be the Provenience. Your gifts would have made our lives better. My daughter had to take your place while you ran. She now lives in that cave, impregnated by the seed of our father. What will she do when we all leave? The dragon father will likely slaughter her out of his rage against us!”

Ischarus breathed deeply and replied before Charis could properly respond. “Do you not know what fate rests for any provenience of an evil dragon, especially of a red?” A thick silence hung in the air. The gathering waited to see if Ischarus would finish what he started. “Your daughter will be bred until her body can take no more seed. Then in a great sacrifice that you have all been brainwashed into honoring, she will likely be consumed by fire and most likely eaten. Is that what you want for your daughter? Would you have her consumed while you idly go about you and your people’s tormented lives?”

Several of the men gasped at the straightforward approach that Ischarus took. He had been bold and proclaimed the truth of the event while treading upon the whole sacred symbolism and exaltation that would come to the Provenience. In their minds, she was to be praised for being the one to nourish the dragon father since he had provided his biological seed. Ischarus had stripped the glory of the ritual down and removed the symbolic greatness that supposedly existed in the celebration. The middle-aged man locked eyes with Ischarus and they began to stare one another down. Both men refused to break their gaze.

Charis stepped forward, but kept herself slightly behind Ischarus’ right shoulder. “I know what you are saying and I would have preferred it to have been me to take her place. But things cannot be that way again. My friends have come along and shown me the better path. Now we have all come back to show you all a better path. We have come to show you a path in which your talents are appreciated rather than abused. If you stay here, there is only death waiting for you. You are being worked to the bone and slowly dying. You will die prematurely under the strict labor that our dragon father has for you. Is that the life you would wish on anyone? Is it really worth the assumed glory that the celebration brings? Or is it perhaps that you wish she had not been selected in the first place? If you could, would you desire her to be stripped from her position even now?”

The man broke his gaze with Ischarus and shot a hurt glance at Charis. “What would you know of it? You were unable to complete what had been asked of you.”

Ischarus began to speak again but Druff silenced him with another hand gesture. Ischarus could see in Druff’s face that this was not a time to get involved. This battle was to be fought between the Provenience who was taken and the man whose daughter was forced to take her place.

Charis replied, “I was strapped to the stone and scorched under the sun until my skin burned and I was delirious. I offered myself completely and wholly on that day. You and I both know that if our dragon father was not so greedy in demanding a display of suffering that I would have been long gone before my new friends arrived and took me kicking and screaming from that altar. If our dragon father had an ounce of mercy in his bones he would have accepted the offering without forcing me – and your daughter – to suffer. That is simply evil at its worst. I cannot in good conscience begin to support it or even pretend it doesn’t exist. That is all it is, pure and simple. It is pure evil.”

Semeion added, “And it is an evil that we can save you from.”

The man whose daughter carried the unborn draconic children of the father dragon cast a menacing glance to Semeion. Druff cast a silencing glance to Semeion, but Rhema would not be silenced so easily as her male counterparts. She smiled as she focused her mind on the man. “Would you be appeased if I promised to bring her safely from his lair?”

A murmur shot through those in attendance. Even Charis and Ischarus were amazed to here Rhema make such a statement. Ischarus was able to detect the tone Rhema was using. It was the tone that meant she was trying to charm the man and calm down his emotions. Yet the claim still seemed to be outrageous.

It was enough to dislodge the man from his anger. “You can make such a promise?” he stammered. He had clearly been caught off-guard by the radical assertion.

Ischarus also turned around and looked to Rhema. “Rhema, the new Provenience is going to be enthralled by the draconic presence. There’s no way that you can overcome that. Plus, the father dragon will pursue us only harder if we take both his future generals in addition to the villagers. By taking the Provenience and all the villagers we take his ability to breed completely away. He’ll know that hunting us down will be easier than starting completely over from scratch. You can’t possibly think that such a plan is possible!”

Rhema merely smiled as Ischarus spoke and focused back on the man. “Not only will I make such a promise, but I will die trying to fulfill it if necessary. If you promise to be there when I bring her to you so that you can restrain her, I promise to bring her. She’ll not want to come willingly. I think you know that.”

A smile passed over Charis lips as Rhema spoke. She glanced to Semeion as her mind drifted back in memory. “She’ll be more resistant than I was. I was brainwashed and delirious from the sun. She’ll not only be enthralled but also be carrying her future away from its place of glory every step of the way.

The man who had challenged Charis caught her eyes and for a second they shared a sympathetic look. “What you speak is madness!” he exclaimed.

A thin raspy voice broke through the commotion. As everyone heard Druff try to speak, they were immediately silenced. “It is not impossible. How many of you thought we would again see the Provenience who was stolen from us? Yet here she is. How many of you thought we would taste freedom once our dragon father gathered us in from our hiding? Yet here we are. How many of you have ever thought that those outside of our clan would risk their own livelihood for our sake? Yet they have risked their lives so that I might taste a few minutes of standing outside my cage.” 

Druff’s breathing grew considerably shallow as he spoke and got himself excited. This was the longest he’d been on his feet for almost two months now. In spite of his difficulty, it was important to bring his speech to a positive conclusion. “Yet here I stand in freedom. If they can come into the territory of our dragon father and bring this small morsel of freedom to me, I believe it is a sign that they can bring freedom to us all. And that includes the new Provenience.”

Druff stopped speaking and lightly collapsed onto Xando’s elbow. Xando had noticed that Druff was growing weaker with each assertion and prepared himself to catch the proud and once strong defender of the village. As Druff collapsed into Xando’s right arm, the gathered leaders all focused silently upon him. Even the foursome who had come from Tongra found themselves caught up in the power of Druff’s demonstration.

After a few seconds of watching Druff, Ischarus turned back to Rhema. His lips formed the sentence, “You’d better be right.” Yet in spite of the movement of his lips no sound came out of his mouth. Rhema turned to Semeion and caught his eye, nodding to him. She looked back to Ischarus. Without sound, her lips mouthed the words, “I am.”
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Oct 5, 2006)

Once Druff had made his speech, nobody bothered challenging the ideas of freedom anymore.  Of course there were people in the gathering who doubted and there were a few who even thought it was a foolish plan.  But if Druff was behind the party and thought the plan was legitimate there was no longer any point to argue.  Points of caution had been made, but if they had convinced Druff the plan was going to go forward.

The rest of the meeting ended quickly; everyone was concerned about staying out too long.  If the dragon father was indeed watching from above, he would certainly already be suspicious anyway.  Druff called upon Ischarus to explain the plan for preparation over the next few days.  Ischarus explained how they would need to store food, reduce food consumption, and work sparingly throughout the night to produce rations to store in the caverns under the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains.  Ischarus explained that once the rations were properly gathered that they planned to distract the dragon father.  Once the red wyrm was distracted they would only have a few minutes to get far enough into the mountains to be free of the wyrm’s breath and magical powers.  As he explained the plan, Ischarus gave several questioning glances to Rhema as if to question the sincerity of her attempt to snag the new Provenience.  At each moment, Rhema appeared solid and confident.

Once Ischarus had concluded his explanation in the language of the dragons, Druff dismissed the crowd.  The party stood by Druff as people left Xando’s home and returned to their own.  Druff caught Ischarus by the elbow as Semeion approached to work his magic ways and reduce him in size once more.

Druff’s raspy voice once more issued forth out of his mouth.  “Ischarus, you need to post a sentry at the foot of the mountain.  There are several prominent villagers that were here today who had their doubts regarding the success of the mission.  If they have doubts, they may be tempted to go to the dragon father and request a private meeting.  If they are granted such a meeting, they will be seeking their own glory at what will most likely be the destruction of us all.  If the dragon learns of our deception, all but the collaborator will likely be destroyed.”

Rhema listened intently.  “Druff, is that entrance hidden well?  And does it lead up to the dragon’s lair?”

Druff nodded.  “It does.  I know the way.”

Xando shook his head.  “Druff, you are not fit for such a journey.  You couldn’t possibly go with her up the mountain.”

Druff smiled and for an instant a glimpse of his powerful old self showed through his eyes.  “I will take pleasure in traveling up that tunnel one more time.  I cannot go tonight, but I will go with Rhema on the day that the plan unfolds.”

Ischarus shook his head.  “No, Druff.  You have suffered enough.  You deserve your freedom more than anyone else.  You’re coming with me to the caves.”

Druff shook his head even more fervently than Ischarus.  “No, Ischarus.  My life is fragile.  You’ll have a better chance at success if I am not slowing you down.  I will only slow the main advance of the town as they head for the mountains.  You said it yourself.  We could only have a matter of minutes.  I will go with Rhema where I can do some good.”

Semeion added to Druff’s assertion before anyone else could argue.  “I am going as well.  I’ll be of little help motivating these people.  Rhema may need a translator if she hopes to bring the new Provenience with her.  Ischarus, you and Charis are both Drakontos and strong leaders.  The people will look up to your natural leadership.  You’ll be needed for the evacuation.  Rhema and I will use our talents to bring the new Provenience and return with the additional cargo that Rhema so secretly desires.”

Ischarus began to object once more, but Charis stopped him with a hand gesture and a speech of her own.  “I don’t like it any more than you do, Ischarus.  But Semeion has a point.  He and Rhema are best suited for that mission.  You and I are going to be needed here on that day.”

Xando approached the door and nodded to Ischarus before he opened it.  “Your friends speak wisely, Ischarus.  A wise person knows when to trust their friends.  As for now, we should be leaving.  Semeion, if you will arrange for Druff’s return, I will show Rhema the secret passage.  Charis, you and Ischarus can head into the forest a bit and wait for the collection to come for this night.  We will trust you to store what few food supplies we have.”

Charis nodded.  “Yes.  We brought our horses and left them away from village a bit.  We’ll be waiting.”

Xando nodded and opened the door.  He hopped outside and started walking across the village.  There was no real regulation preventing the people from using the night as they saw fit, but he didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention from their dragon father, either.  As he crossed by the horizontal stone slab he heard the squeak of his door as it opened again.

Rhema had taken time to change and she then popped out of Xando’s home.  She headed in a different direction than Xando, but once outside the village she quickly circled around to Xando’s position and met up with him.  Neither of them noticed that they were being followed.  The light gray figure materialized behind them and followed them closely.  The figure occasionally stopped in the middle of a tree to staying hidden for a while.

Semeion cast his magic over Druff, but this time it was Ischarus who would take Druff to the cage.  Ischarus hadn’t been near the cage at all that night, so they had hoped his presence wouldn’t draw any attention.  Besides the potential mind games, Ischarus was much stronger and able to carry the magically reduced Druff without being obvious.  Ischarus departed from the house and headed quickly for the cage.

Semeion and Charis waited a proper amount of time and left the building at the same time.  As soon as they descended the steps they split up and headed in different directions into the surrounding forest.  The hope was that if someone was watching, they wouldn’t be able to watch everyone at the same time.  If their attention was diverted even for an instant, Ischarus and Druff might go unnoticed.  Ischarus approached the cage and carefully lifted Druff up to a level that would allow him to climb in easily enough.  In a matter of seconds Druff was inside.

Ischarus found himself saying something that only a few days earlier he would have thought impossible.  Druff had once been a great adversary.  Now Druff was his most important ally.  “I am sorry to have to imprison you once more, my new friend.  I will send Semeion several times tomorrow to cast his magic upon you.  There will be no need for his magic until we have stored up enough rations in the tunnel.  If we can ease your pain even for a few minutes each day, we shall.”

Druff reached his hand out of the cage to rest it upon the back of Ischarus’ hand.  He found himself in an equally unbelievable position.  “I appreciate all that you can do.  Just save my people.”

Ischarus nodded and stepped back from the cage.  He swallowed hard, lost in what it would be like for Druff in a few minutes when Semeion’s magic wore off.  Not wanting to linger too long, Ischarus turned and headed away out of the village.  He circled back to where Charis and Semeion were waiting with the horses.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Once Druff had made his speech, nobody bothered challenging the ideas of freedom anymore. Of course there were people in the gathering who doubted and there were a few who even thought it was a foolish plan. But if Druff was behind the party and thought the plan was legitimate there was no longer any point to argue. Points of caution had been made, but if they had convinced Druff the plan was going to go forward.

The rest of the meeting ended quickly; everyone was concerned about staying out too long. If the dragon father was indeed watching from above, he would certainly already be suspicious anyway. Druff called upon Ischarus to explain the plan for preparation over the next few days. Ischarus explained how they would need to store food, reduce food consumption, and work sparingly throughout the night to produce rations to store in the caverns under the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains. Ischarus explained that once the rations were properly gathered that they planned to distract the dragon father. Once the red wyrm was distracted they would only have a few minutes to get far enough into the mountains to be free of the wyrm’s breath and magical powers. As he explained the plan, Ischarus gave several questioning glances to Rhema as if to question the sincerity of her attempt to snag the new Provenience. At each moment, Rhema appeared solid and confident.

Once Ischarus had concluded his explanation in the language of the dragons, Druff dismissed the crowd. The party stood by Druff as people left Xando’s home and returned to their own. Druff caught Ischarus by the elbow as Semeion approached to work his magic ways and reduce him in size once more.

Druff’s raspy voice once more issued forth out of his mouth. “Ischarus, you need to post a sentry at the foot of the mountain. There are several prominent villagers that were here today who had their doubts regarding the success of the mission. If they have doubts, they may be tempted to go to the dragon father and request a private meeting. If they are granted such a meeting, they will be seeking their own glory at what will most likely be the destruction of us all. If the dragon learns of our deception, all but the collaborator will likely be destroyed.”

Rhema listened intently. “Druff, is that entrance hidden well? And does it lead up to the dragon’s lair?”

Druff nodded. “It does. I know the way.”

Xando shook his head. “Druff, you are not fit for such a journey. You couldn’t possibly go with her up the mountain.”

Druff smiled and for an instant a glimpse of his powerful old self showed through his eyes. “I will take pleasure in traveling up that tunnel one more time. I cannot go tonight, but I will go with Rhema on the day that the plan unfolds.”

Ischarus shook his head. “No, Druff. You have suffered enough. You deserve your freedom more than anyone else. You’re coming with me to the caves.”

Druff shook his head even more fervently than Ischarus. “No, Ischarus. My life is fragile. You’ll have a better chance at success if I am not slowing you down. I will only slow the main advance of the town as they head for the mountains. You said it yourself. We could only have a matter of minutes. I will go with Rhema where I can do some good.”

Semeion added to Druff’s assertion before anyone else could argue. “I am going as well. I’ll be of little help motivating these people. Rhema may need a translator if she hopes to bring the new Provenience with her. Ischarus, you and Charis are both Drakontos and strong leaders. The people will look up to your natural leadership. You’ll be needed for the evacuation. Rhema and I will use our talents to bring the new Provenience and return with the additional cargo that Rhema so secretly desires.”

Ischarus began to object once more, but Charis stopped him with a hand gesture and a speech of her own. “I don’t like it any more than you do, Ischarus. But Semeion has a point. He and Rhema are best suited for that mission. You and I are going to be needed here on that day.”

Xando approached the door and nodded to Ischarus before he opened it. “Your friends speak wisely, Ischarus. A wise person knows when to trust their friends. As for now, we should be leaving. Semeion, if you will arrange for Druff’s return, I will show Rhema the secret passage. Charis, you and Ischarus can head into the forest a bit and wait for the collection to come for this night. We will trust you to store what few food supplies we have.”

Charis nodded. “Yes. We brought our horses and left them away from village a bit. We’ll be waiting.”

Xando nodded and opened the door. He hopped outside and started walking across the village. There was no real regulation preventing the people from using the night as they saw fit, but he didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention from their dragon father, either. As he crossed by the horizontal stone slab he heard the squeak of his door as it opened again.

Rhema had taken time to change and she then popped out of Xando’s home. She headed in a different direction than Xando, but once outside the village she quickly circled around to Xando’s position and met up with him. Neither of them noticed that they were being followed. The light gray figure materialized behind them and followed them closely. The figure occasionally stopped in the middle of a tree to staying hidden for a while.

Semeion cast his magic over Druff, but this time it was Ischarus who would take Druff to the cage. Ischarus hadn’t been near the cage at all that night, so they had hoped his presence wouldn’t draw any attention. Besides the potential mind games, Ischarus was much stronger and able to carry the magically reduced Druff without being obvious. Ischarus departed from the house and headed quickly for the cage.

Semeion and Charis waited a proper amount of time and left the building at the same time. As soon as they descended the steps they split up and headed in different directions into the surrounding forest. The hope was that if someone was watching, they wouldn’t be able to watch everyone at the same time. If their attention was diverted even for an instant, Ischarus and Druff might go unnoticed. Ischarus approached the cage and carefully lifted Druff up to a level that would allow him to climb in easily enough. In a matter of seconds Druff was inside.

Ischarus found himself saying something that only a few days earlier he would have thought impossible. Druff had once been a great adversary. Now Druff was his most important ally. “I am sorry to have to imprison you once more, my new friend. I will send Semeion several times tomorrow to cast his magic upon you. There will be no need for his magic until we have stored up enough rations in the tunnel. If we can ease your pain even for a few minutes each day, we shall.”

Druff reached his hand out of the cage to rest it upon the back of Ischarus’ hand. He found himself in an equally unbelievable position. “I appreciate all that you can do. Just save my people.”

Ischarus nodded and stepped back from the cage. He swallowed hard, lost in what it would be like for Druff in a few minutes when Semeion’s magic wore off. Not wanting to linger too long, Ischarus turned and headed away out of the village. He circled back to where Charis and Semeion were waiting with the horses.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Oct 7, 2006)

Xando led Rhema to the hidden entrance to the dragon’s lair and back to the village again.  Without much of a goodbye at all, Xando quickly disappeared through the network of village houses and then slipped in his own front door.  Rhema watched him go for a short time and waited until she heard the sound of his door closing.  Once she was sure that he had made it to his home, Rhema crept around the edge of the village through the trees until she saw the horses standing beside Semeion and Charis.  Ischarus was nowhere to be seen.

Rhema continued to approach slowly, figuring that there was no need to draw in any more attention than necessary.  As she crept on her hands and knees towards the horses, she heard a voice above her from among the trees.  “Don’t move any further.  I’ve got you in my sights and I’m not afraid to punish you if you move so much as a muscle.”

Rhema was startled at the interruption of the voice. Immediately her eyes dilated, her heart raced, and she sucked in a quick breath.  It was only a second later that her mind caught up with the fight or flight instinct.  “Don’t do that, Ischarus!  You scared me half to death.” In spite of being scared, she was able to keep her voice to a minimum as she rolled over to face the Drakontos she had grown to know so well.

As she rolled over, she heard Ischarus leap to the ground off of a branch above her.  He drove his sword hard into the ground after he jumped and landed in a crouching position.  He held his finger up to his lips to be silent as he spoke quietly.  “Charis and Semeion seemed like they wanted a bit of time alone.  I figured I’d sit in the tree and watch the village.  I heard you coming a mile away.”

Rhema reached up and grabbed the hilt of Ischarus’ sword and used it to help herself rise into a seated position.  As her hand reached onto the hilt of Ischarus’ blade, her fingers were covered with Ischarus’ as he gently trapped them between his own fingers and the hilt of his sword.  Rhema smiled at the physical advance and spoke softly.  “I think perhaps you wanted a bit of time alone as well?”

Ischarus winked at his prey and then he looked back towards the horses.  From his crouched position, Semeion and Charis were out of view.  “You found the way to the dragon’s cave?

Rhema nodded, enjoying being connected to Ischarus upon the hilt of his sword.  She continued to whisper, “Yeah.  I found it.  It shouldn’t be hard to find again now that I know where to look.”

Ischarus smiled and continued to avoid eye contact with Rhema.  “Are you sure about all of this?  You really think that you and Semeion can get into the cave and get what you seek?”

Rhema followed Ischarus’ eyes.  He was looking straight into the cluster of horses.  Her eyes locked onto the same distant point.  “Yeah.  I’m sure.  Between Semeion and me, we can get the job done.”

Ischarus nodded, but didn’t look to Rhema.  “And Druff.  You’ll have Druff along.”

Rhema sighed and looked over at Ischarus.  “Deep in my heart, I wish that he wasn’t coming.  He’s so frail.”

Ischarus cut her explanation off.  As he spoke a smile of knowing pride passed over his lips.  “He’s Drakontos, Rhema.  He has the pride and strength of dragons working through him.  He’ll manage the task, don’t worry.”

As Ischarus seemed to slip into the mode of commander, Rhema looked away and flexed her fingers underneath his grip.  Although she tried to remove her hand as she thought the intimate moment had passed, Ischarus refused to let her fingers free.  Instead, he continued the conversation while they were still linked at the hilt of the sword.  “But you have good reason to wish him not going.  Fundamentally, he is Drakontos and we are planning to assault his dragon father.  If there is any loyalty inside him to his heritage, you should not trust him.  I don’t trust him.  This could all be a ploy to return himself to the power that he once had.  We could be in the middle of a large scale set-up.  You must promise me that you won’t trust him until you are free and under the mountains.  Misplaced trust over the next few days could end your life with me.”

Rhema knew she heard the emotion in his voice.  Compassion was clearly present as he ended his discussion on Druff.  In fact, there was a clear tone of emptiness and mourning present as Ischarus spoke the final four words.  Rhema wrinkled her eyebrows in thought as she continued to focus in on the horses once more.  “I’ll be careful, Ischarus.  I’ve learned to trust your instincts.”

The sound of a door closing solidly rang through the village.  Ischarus and Charis both turned their heads to the right and looked into the village.  They saw what appeared to be a woman carrying a pack on her shoulders.  Even though both Ischarus and Rhema had turned, neither was willing to relinquish their grip on the sword any more.  Ischarus turned back to look at Rhema and he found her willing to hold eye contact.  “We should probably go to Semeion and have you show us where that entrance is.  We’ll make that our base of operations.  Charis and I will join you during the day.  You and Semeion should keep a constant vigil watching that entrance.  None of the villagers can be trusted anymore.  Even though they supply us with rations, Druff is right.  Any one of them could conspire against us.”

Rhema nodded, although her expression looked a bit deflated.  Her face appeared as though she wished she wasn’t hearing the voice of a commander at this moment.  Ischarus saw the expression and smiled.  The stern look of the regimented tactician vanished and for a moment it was replaced by a very carefree expression.  He leaned forward and kissed Rhema on the forehead.  “I never got a chance to tell you, but I did not ask you to lie to Brandt.”

Rhema thought for a moment, but before she could truly understand his words he had let go of her hand and stood up.  He extended a hand to her to help her stand and as she rose Ischarus said, “That woman is the first to bring supplies.  Charis can handle it for a short time.  We should go.”

A smile flashed across Rhema’s face.  Suddenly, she was enjoying Ischarus’ commander voice much more.  In a playful mocking Rhema added, “Yes, sir.”

Ischarus also smiled, and together they walked the rest of the way to meet up with Charis and Semeion.  Once the foursome was together, Ischarus began handing out a few more orders.  “Semeion, Charis.  That sound was the villagers beginning to bring the supplies for the journey.  They’ll be coming shortly.  That also means that we should set up a watch at the secret entrance to the dragon lair.  With people wandering about at night we can’t take any chances.”

Both Semeion and Charis nodded and Ischarus continued.  “Semeion, you and I need to go with Rhema to the secret entrance.  I’ll come back here and help Charis.  Once we are done here for the night we’ll have the horses drag the supplies to the mountainous caves, find a place to store them, and then join you for the day.”

Charis shook her head in disapproval.  “No, Ischarus.  We cannot leave the food store unprotected in the mountain passageway.  There isn’t much traffic through there, but there are wild animals that will scavenge the food.  We’ll need to post a guard.”

Semeion appeared to be counting people in his mind.  Once he was done he added his own perspective.  “We don’t have enough people.  We can’t constantly protect the dragon’s secret entrance, the food, and move the supplies without getting some rest.”

Rhema frowned at the thought and Ischarus replied, “You’re right, Semeion.  For now, we need to go.  We’ll work on the plan in our minds as we work tonight.  We’ll resolve this at sunrise.”

The woman carrying the first addition of food supplies began to leave the village and slowly approach the horses.  She could barely see the foursome in the darkness provided by the cover of trees.  As she gingerly stepped forward, Ischarus, Semeion, and Rhema stepped away.

Several more people brought food to Charis before Ischarus returned to her side.  The supply stack was growing strong.  It seemed like the effort for the freedom of Charis’ people had been received well.  The next few days would be spend foraging for nuts, berries, and grains and then baking as much as possible.  It would be hard work, but the taste of freedom would hopefully make it pass quickly.  As the people brought their food supplies, they blessed Ischarus and Charis for their work.

On the opposite side of the village and a good bit into the forest, Rhema and Semeion sat just inside the secret entrance.  They sat in silence and darkness for some time, each wondering if their presence would be detected by the dragon.  They hoped that the main portion of his lair was high enough up the mountain that they could go undetected as they sat only a few feet into the secret entrance.  Truth be told, their silence was largely spent listening intently into the greater darkness that lay beyond them.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Xando led Rhema to the hidden entrance to the dragon’s lair and back to the village again. Without much of a goodbye at all, Xando quickly disappeared through the network of village houses and then slipped in his own front door. Rhema watched him go for a short time and waited until she heard the sound of his door closing. Once she was sure that he had made it to his home, Rhema crept around the edge of the village through the trees until she saw the horses standing beside Semeion and Charis. Ischarus was nowhere to be seen.

Rhema continued to approach slowly, figuring that there was no need to draw in any more attention than necessary. As she crept on her hands and knees towards the horses, she heard a voice above her from among the trees. “Don’t move any further. I’ve got you in my sights and I’m not afraid to punish you if you move so much as a muscle.”

Rhema was startled at the interruption of the voice. Immediately her eyes dilated, her heart raced, and she sucked in a quick breath. It was only a second later that her mind caught up with the fight or flight instinct. “Don’t do that, Ischarus! You scared me half to death.” In spite of being scared, she was able to keep her voice to a minimum as she rolled over to face the Drakontos she had grown to know so well.

As she rolled over, she heard Ischarus leap to the ground off of a branch above her. He drove his sword hard into the ground after he jumped and landed in a crouching position. He held his finger up to his lips to be silent as he spoke quietly. “Charis and Semeion seemed like they wanted a bit of time alone. I figured I’d sit in the tree and watch the village. I heard you coming a mile away.”

Rhema reached up and grabbed the hilt of Ischarus’ sword and used it to help herself rise into a seated position. As her hand reached onto the hilt of Ischarus’ blade, her fingers were covered with Ischarus’ as he gently trapped them between his own fingers and the hilt of his sword. Rhema smiled at the physical advance and spoke softly. “I think perhaps you wanted a bit of time alone as well?”

Ischarus winked at his prey and then he looked back towards the horses. From his crouched position, Semeion and Charis were out of view. “You found the way to the dragon’s cave?

Rhema nodded, enjoying being connected to Ischarus upon the hilt of his sword. She continued to whisper, “Yeah. I found it. It shouldn’t be hard to find again now that I know where to look.”

Ischarus smiled and continued to avoid eye contact with Rhema. “Are you sure about all of this? You really think that you and Semeion can get into the cave and get what you seek?”

Rhema followed Ischarus’ eyes. He was looking straight into the cluster of horses. Her eyes locked onto the same distant point. “Yeah. I’m sure. Between Semeion and me, we can get the job done.”

Ischarus nodded, but didn’t look to Rhema. “And Druff. You’ll have Druff along.”

Rhema sighed and looked over at Ischarus. “Deep in my heart, I wish that he wasn’t coming. He’s so frail.”

Ischarus cut her explanation off. As he spoke a smile of knowing pride passed over his lips. “He’s Drakontos, Rhema. He has the pride and strength of dragons working through him. He’ll manage the task, don’t worry.”

As Ischarus seemed to slip into the mode of commander, Rhema looked away and flexed her fingers underneath his grip. Although she tried to remove her hand as she thought the intimate moment had passed, Ischarus refused to let her fingers free. Instead, he continued the conversation while they were still linked at the hilt of the sword. “But you have good reason to wish him not going. Fundamentally, he is Drakontos and we are planning to assault his dragon father. If there is any loyalty inside him to his heritage, you should not trust him. I don’t trust him. This could all be a ploy to return himself to the power that he once had. We could be in the middle of a large scale set-up. You must promise me that you won’t trust him until you are free and under the mountains. Misplaced trust over the next few days could end your life with me.”

Rhema knew she heard the emotion in his voice. Compassion was clearly present as he ended his discussion on Druff. In fact, there was a clear tone of emptiness and mourning present as Ischarus spoke the final four words. Rhema wrinkled her eyebrows in thought as she continued to focus in on the horses once more. “I’ll be careful, Ischarus. I’ve learned to trust your instincts.”

The sound of a door closing solidly rang through the village. Ischarus and Charis both turned their heads to the right and looked into the village. They saw what appeared to be a woman carrying a pack on her shoulders. Even though both Ischarus and Rhema had turned, neither was willing to relinquish their grip on the sword any more. Ischarus turned back to look at Rhema and he found her willing to hold eye contact. “We should probably go to Semeion and have you show us where that entrance is. We’ll make that our base of operations. Charis and I will join you during the day. You and Semeion should keep a constant vigil watching that entrance. None of the villagers can be trusted anymore. Even though they supply us with rations, Druff is right. Any one of them could conspire against us.”

Rhema nodded, although her expression looked a bit deflated. Her face appeared as though she wished she wasn’t hearing the voice of a commander at this moment. Ischarus saw the expression and smiled. The stern look of the regimented tactician vanished and for a moment it was replaced by a very carefree expression. He leaned forward and kissed Rhema on the forehead. “I never got a chance to tell you, but I did not ask you to lie to Brandt.”

Rhema thought for a moment, but before she could truly understand his words he had let go of her hand and stood up. He extended a hand to her to help her stand and as she rose Ischarus said, “That woman is the first to bring supplies. Charis can handle it for a short time. We should go.”

A smile flashed across Rhema’s face. Suddenly, she was enjoying Ischarus’ commander voice much more. In a playful mocking Rhema added, “Yes, sir.”

Ischarus also smiled, and together they walked the rest of the way to meet up with Charis and Semeion. Once the foursome was together, Ischarus began handing out a few more orders. “Semeion, Charis. That sound was the villagers beginning to bring the supplies for the journey. They’ll be coming shortly. That also means that we should set up a watch at the secret entrance to the dragon lair. With people wandering about at night we can’t take any chances.”

Both Semeion and Charis nodded and Ischarus continued. “Semeion, you and I need to go with Rhema to the secret entrance. I’ll come back here and help Charis. Once we are done here for the night we’ll have the horses drag the supplies to the mountainous caves, find a place to store them, and then join you for the day.”

Charis shook her head in disapproval. “No, Ischarus. We cannot leave the food store unprotected in the mountain passageway. There isn’t much traffic through there, but there are wild animals that will scavenge the food. We’ll need to post a guard.”

Semeion appeared to be counting people in his mind. Once he was done he added his own perspective. “We don’t have enough people. We can’t constantly protect the dragon’s secret entrance, the food, and move the supplies without getting some rest.”

Rhema frowned at the thought and Ischarus replied, “You’re right, Semeion. For now, we need to go. We’ll work on the plan in our minds as we work tonight. We’ll resolve this at sunrise.”

The woman carrying the first addition of food supplies began to leave the village and slowly approach the horses. She could barely see the foursome in the darkness provided by the cover of trees. As she gingerly stepped forward, Ischarus, Semeion, and Rhema stepped away.

Several more people brought food to Charis before Ischarus returned to her side. The supply stack was growing strong. It seemed like the effort for the freedom of Charis’ people had been received well. The next few days would be spend foraging for nuts, berries, and grains and then baking as much as possible. It would be hard work, but the taste of freedom would hopefully make it pass quickly. As the people brought their food supplies, they blessed Ischarus and Charis for their work.

On the opposite side of the village and a good bit into the forest, Rhema and Semeion sat just inside the secret entrance. They sat in silence and darkness for some time, each wondering if their presence would be detected by the dragon. They hoped that the main portion of his lair was high enough up the mountain that they could go undetected as they sat only a few feet into the secret entrance. Truth be told, their silence was largely spent listening intently into the greater darkness that lay beyond them.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Oct 10, 2006)

The sound they were waiting for didn’t take too long to come.  As Rhema and Semeion sat in silence just inside the cave they heard the snap of a dried twig.  After a brief moment of panic, both heads swiveled from their fearful glance deeper into the cave to a look of anticipation towards the entrance.  It was much too early to expect Ischarus or Charis to be returning back to the hidden entrance.  This encounter had all the potential of being one of the most dangerous moments for the success of the plan.  Failure could mean the wrath of the red dragon upon them all.

The unknown person entered to cave entrance.  Rhema and Semeion were hidden well enough that whoever was coming was unable to see them as they looked in from the light and into the darkness.  Rhema and Semeion couldn’t make out the identity of the person either on account of the backlighting from the stars and the moon above.  The person appeared simply as a silhouette to both Rhema and Semeion as they hid in the cave.  They did take comfort in knowing that the unknown intruder had come alone.

The person stopped immediately upon crossing out of the forest and entering into the cave.  Whoever it was turned around and looked back in the direction of the village before moving on.  “I do this for the future, bleak as it is.  I cannot let my daughter be killed in this foolhardy plan.”  The thick accent of the draconic language pulsed through the cavern.  From the pitch and roughness of the voice, Rhema and Semeion determined that this person was a man.  The man’s tone had a clear indication that he was trying to convince himself of the necessity of this act.

Semeion spoke before Rhema could muster her own words.  “You would condemn your people to save your daughter?”  Semeion’s voice broke the silence and it echoed through the entrance.  The man spun around and desperately searched the entrance.  Semeion continued the questioning in the draconic language from his hidden position, confusing the newcomer even further.  “Your daughter likely only lives a life worth living if you turn around now and go back to the village.  To continue with your plan only means your daughter lives in slavery.”

The man desperately searched the inside of the cave entrance.  He stepped forward into the cave a single step in an attempt to escape the relative brightness of the entrance.  His language changed to the language spoke in the lands outside of Quehalost and Rhema sighed in relief that the man could speak a language that she spoke.  “No, my daughter survives if the plan is foiled.  My wife survives if the plan is stopped right now.  My unborn child manages to see the day of its birth if the plan is stopped right now!”

Rhema let out a little laugh.  “And what life will they have?  If you go to your dragon father now with the information you have, the wrath of your dragon father will know no end.  Do you think your people will be spared?”

The frustration in the man’s voice rang through the cave.  Rhema and Semeion both feared it would be loud enough to wake the dragon above them.  “I have no choice!” The man stepped forward as he made his assertion and interrupted Rhema.  “You cannot escape the grasp of our dragon father!  You might be able to smuggle a few of our people out, but if we all leave our dragon father will wait patiently until we emerge on the other side of the mountains.  Wherever we emerge we will be seen from the air.  Don’t you get that?”

As the man stepped forward another step Semeion recognized the man.  His eyes darted over to where he knew Rhema was hiding as soon as he figured out who it was, but he was unable to see Rhema in the darkness.  “Do you think you can save her from the dragon’s own mouth?”

The man laughed as the irony of Semeion’s words reached him.  “You think you can!  I think my way is easier.”

Semeion didn’t let Rhema join the conversation as he continued the verbal pressure.  “We don’t plan on sacrificing dozens of lives at her expense!  We plan on rescuing not only her, but you and everyone else back in that village!”

As Semeion spoke his enthusiasm accidentally drew him out of hiding.  He gestured with his hand and rose ever so slightly out of his crouch.  The gesture and the slight rise was enough to give Semeion’s location away to the man who was now standing only a few feet away.  In an instant the man pulled out the sickle that he used to harvest grains in his father dragon’s fields.  

Semeion was quicker on the draw with his magic, however.  “Thin-tok”  The familiar words easily came to his mind.  Blue sparks ignited along Semeion’s elbow and shot toward his hand.  In an instant they congregated along his fingers and leapt forward to form a ball only six inches from his hand.  The blue ball of energy lit Semeion’s face for just an instant before springing forward and striking the man.  As the ball flashed across the cave Rhema recognize the man as well.

The energy ball struck the man and knocked him back a step.  It wasn’t enough to knock him completely off-balance and the man charged Semeion’s position with fury in his eyes.  The man slashed forward with a furious cut as the sickle sliced through the air.  Semeion used the darkness to his advantage and ducked into a shadow.  The sound of metal striking rock above Semeion’s head rang out and echoed through the cave entrance.

Rhema knew that Semeion wouldn’t be able to take too many attacks.  She also knew that she couldn’t take too many attacks, either.  She stood up, revealing her position to the man and spoke with the calming presence that Semeion had learned meant she attempting to influence the man’s mind.  “We had this discussion in Xando’s home.  We agreed that we can save your daughter and her unborn dragon children.  There’s no need to disbelieve us.  I have promised that I would either save your daughter or die trying.”

The man scoffed at Rhema’s attempt to influence his mind.  “Do you honestly think that your mind tricks can work on me as they did the traitor that you stole from us?  If she weren’t such a weak minded individual we would not be in this situation at all!”

As the man spoke, Semeion yanked his finely crafted rapier out of its scabbard and lined up a strike.  The hit was only a glancing blow, but it did manage to cut the man and draw blood through his robe.  The man let out a quick curse and sucked in a deep breath.  His return strike was parried by Semeion’s rapier as the curved blade of the sickle wrapped around the flexible blade of Semeion’s rapier.  Semeion couldn’t help but smile at his ability to wield the weapon with apparent skill against the villager.

Rhema continued talking.  “Listen to me.  Your daughter might be the new Provenience, but we can give her freedom.  We can give you the opportunity to live in freedom with her and watch your dragon born grandchildren grow up apart from the wrath of your dragon father.  Don’t you want that for your daughter, her children, your wife, your own unborn child, and the rest of the village?”

The man snarled again at Rhema’s attempt to influence his mind.  “I told you to get out of my mind, witch.  Now I mean it, or I’ll skewer you after I finish with this one!”

Semeion didn’t take kindly to the man’s words.  His rapier flashed forward once more, slicing into the man’s right shoulder.  The man dropped his sickle out of the pain and crumpled to the floor.  Semeion rose to his feet and switched back to the draconic language as he concluded the conversation.  “I told you that you would not overcome us.  Since we defeated you, our plan can continue.  Now submit and your life will be spared.”

When the man had fallen to the ground Rhema approached from behind his back.  At Semeion’s tone and threatening posture she glanced towards the young mage and Semeion smiled and replied to her glance with a wink of his own.

The man spat upon Semeion’s leg at the offer to submit.  “You’ll need to kill me to silence me.”  He tried to reach with his right hand for the sickle, but Semeion stepped in the path of his reach.  Pain shot through the man’s body as he attempted to use his nearly useless shoulder.  He spat once more toward Semeion before the young mage reached back and struck him hard across his face.  

The blow came from Semeion’s gloved hand, but it knocked the man to the ground.  Pain shot through his body as he landed on his left side.  His head thumped against the ground and he lay still.  Rhema approached from behind and checked the man’s vital signs.

She looked up and nodded.  “He’s still alive.  It feels like he’s just unconscious from the blow.”

Semeion nodded.  “Well I didn’t want to kill him, but he wouldn’t submit.  He had to be subdued.  Now what?”

Rhema looked back up at Semeion.  “We’ll tie him up for the night.  When Ischarus comes back we’ll decide what to do with him.  For the night we’ll get him out of the way and make him comfortable.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
The sound they were waiting for didn’t take too long to come. As Rhema and Semeion sat in silence just inside the cave they heard the snap of a dried twig. After a brief moment of panic, both heads swiveled from their fearful glance deeper into the cave to a look of anticipation towards the entrance. It was much too early to expect Ischarus or Charis to be returning back to the hidden entrance. This encounter had all the potential of being one of the most dangerous moments for the success of the plan. Failure could mean the wrath of the red dragon upon them all.

The unknown person entered to cave entrance. Rhema and Semeion were hidden well enough that whoever was coming was unable to see them as they looked in from the light and into the darkness. Rhema and Semeion couldn’t make out the identity of the person either on account of the backlighting from the stars and the moon above. The person appeared simply as a silhouette to both Rhema and Semeion as they hid in the cave. They did take comfort in knowing that the unknown intruder had come alone.

The person stopped immediately upon crossing out of the forest and entering into the cave. Whoever it was turned around and looked back in the direction of the village before moving on. “I do this for the future, bleak as it is. I cannot let my daughter be killed in this foolhardy plan.” The thick accent of the draconic language pulsed through the cavern. From the pitch and roughness of the voice, Rhema and Semeion determined that this person was a man. The man’s tone had a clear indication that he was trying to convince himself of the necessity of this act.

Semeion spoke before Rhema could muster her own words. “You would condemn your people to save your daughter?” Semeion’s voice broke the silence and it echoed through the entrance. The man spun around and desperately searched the entrance. Semeion continued the questioning in the draconic language from his hidden position, confusing the newcomer even further. “Your daughter likely only lives a life worth living if you turn around now and go back to the village. To continue with your plan only means your daughter lives in slavery.”

The man desperately searched the inside of the cave entrance. He stepped forward into the cave a single step in an attempt to escape the relative brightness of the entrance. His language changed to the language spoke in the lands outside of Quehalost and Rhema sighed in relief that the man could speak a language that she spoke. “No, my daughter survives if the plan is foiled. My wife survives if the plan is stopped right now. My unborn child manages to see the day of its birth if the plan is stopped right now!”

Rhema let out a little laugh. “And what life will they have? If you go to your dragon father now with the information you have, the wrath of your dragon father will know no end. Do you think your people will be spared?”

The frustration in the man’s voice rang through the cave. Rhema and Semeion both feared it would be loud enough to wake the dragon above them. “I have no choice!” The man stepped forward as he made his assertion and interrupted Rhema. “You cannot escape the grasp of our dragon father! You might be able to smuggle a few of our people out, but if we all leave our dragon father will wait patiently until we emerge on the other side of the mountains. Wherever we emerge we will be seen from the air. Don’t you get that?”

As the man stepped forward another step Semeion recognized the man. His eyes darted over to where he knew Rhema was hiding as soon as he figured out who it was, but he was unable to see Rhema in the darkness. “Do you think you can save her from the dragon’s own mouth?”

The man laughed as the irony of Semeion’s words reached him. “You think you can! I think my way is easier.”

Semeion didn’t let Rhema join the conversation as he continued the verbal pressure. “We don’t plan on sacrificing dozens of lives at her expense! We plan on rescuing not only her, but you and everyone else back in that village!”

As Semeion spoke his enthusiasm accidentally drew him out of hiding. He gestured with his hand and rose ever so slightly out of his crouch. The gesture and the slight rise was enough to give Semeion’s location away to the man who was now standing only a few feet away. In an instant the man pulled out the sickle that he used to harvest grains in his father dragon’s fields. 

Semeion was quicker on the draw with his magic, however. “Thin-tok” The familiar words easily came to his mind. Blue sparks ignited along Semeion’s elbow and shot toward his hand. In an instant they congregated along his fingers and leapt forward to form a ball only six inches from his hand. The blue ball of energy lit Semeion’s face for just an instant before springing forward and striking the man. As the ball flashed across the cave Rhema recognize the man as well.

The energy ball struck the man and knocked him back a step. It wasn’t enough to knock him completely off-balance and the man charged Semeion’s position with fury in his eyes. The man slashed forward with a furious cut as the sickle sliced through the air. Semeion used the darkness to his advantage and ducked into a shadow. The sound of metal striking rock above Semeion’s head rang out and echoed through the cave entrance.

Rhema knew that Semeion wouldn’t be able to take too many attacks. She also knew that she couldn’t take too many attacks, either. She stood up, revealing her position to the man and spoke with the calming presence that Semeion had learned meant she attempting to influence the man’s mind. “We had this discussion in Xando’s home. We agreed that we can save your daughter and her unborn dragon children. There’s no need to disbelieve us. I have promised that I would either save your daughter or die trying.”

The man scoffed at Rhema’s attempt to influence his mind. “Do you honestly think that your mind tricks can work on me as they did the traitor that you stole from us? If she weren’t such a weak minded individual we would not be in this situation at all!”

As the man spoke, Semeion yanked his finely crafted rapier out of its scabbard and lined up a strike. The hit was only a glancing blow, but it did manage to cut the man and draw blood through his robe. The man let out a quick curse and sucked in a deep breath. His return strike was parried by Semeion’s rapier as the curved blade of the sickle wrapped around the flexible blade of Semeion’s rapier. Semeion couldn’t help but smile at his ability to wield the weapon with apparent skill against the villager.

Rhema continued talking. “Listen to me. Your daughter might be the new Provenience, but we can give her freedom. We can give you the opportunity to live in freedom with her and watch your dragon born grandchildren grow up apart from the wrath of your dragon father. Don’t you want that for your daughter, her children, your wife, your own unborn child, and the rest of the village?”

The man snarled again at Rhema’s attempt to influence his mind. “I told you to get out of my mind, witch. Now I mean it, or I’ll skewer you after I finish with this one!”

Semeion didn’t take kindly to the man’s words. His rapier flashed forward once more, slicing into the man’s right shoulder. The man dropped his sickle out of the pain and crumpled to the floor. Semeion rose to his feet and switched back to the draconic language as he concluded the conversation. “I told you that you would not overcome us. Since we defeated you, our plan can continue. Now submit and your life will be spared.”

When the man had fallen to the ground Rhema approached from behind his back. At Semeion’s tone and threatening posture she glanced towards the young mage and Semeion smiled and replied to her glance with a wink of his own.

The man spat upon Semeion’s leg at the offer to submit. “You’ll need to kill me to silence me.” He tried to reach with his right hand for the sickle, but Semeion stepped in the path of his reach. Pain shot through the man’s body as he attempted to use his nearly useless shoulder. He spat once more toward Semeion before the young mage reached back and struck him hard across his face. 

The blow came from Semeion’s gloved hand, but it knocked the man to the ground. Pain shot through his body as he landed on his left side. His head thumped against the ground and he lay still. Rhema approached from behind and checked the man’s vital signs.

She looked up and nodded. “He’s still alive. It feels like he’s just unconscious from the blow.”

Semeion nodded. “Well I didn’t want to kill him, but he wouldn’t submit. He had to be subdued. Now what?”

Rhema looked back up at Semeion. “We’ll tie him up for the night. When Ischarus comes back we’ll decide what to do with him. For the night we’ll get him out of the way and make him comfortable.” 
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Oct 12, 2006)

Across the camp, Charis was busy collecting food donations gathered from the heads of the village households.  The food collection was slow in coming at first, but as the night progressed the pace picked up.  Most of the villagers greeted Charis with a warm greeting.  Often she was welcomed with hugs and exclamations at being able to see her again.  It turned out that most in the village assumed she had been captured for use in some sort of slave trade, perhaps even demonic in origin.  While the truth had been intentionally hidden from them by their dragon father, they were nonetheless happy to know she was safe.  Most were even more grateful for the sacrifices that she had made in coming back to help them escape the torment that the lives of the villagers had known under the dragon father’s wrath.

While Charis played the face of the party with respect for the villagers, Ischarus and Xando went through the surrounding woods with some of Xando’s axes.  They weren’t looking to cut down any trees, but they were certainly interested in taking the limbs off of any that happened to fall on their own.  Ischarus knew that the most efficient manner for getting the vast quantity of food to the underground tunnels would be to have sleds that the horses could drag behind them.  These sleds would be useful in the tunnels as well for carting the food from the storage place to whatever cavern in which they decided to wait out the dragon’s wrath.  He looked for tree trunks that had substantial enough diameter to support the weight of the collected food but small enough diameter to be easily bound together without increasing the weight of the sled substantially.  Fortunately for Ischarus there was plenty of soft pine in the area.  The pine was not only lighter in weight but also easier to trim and drag to where he needed them.

At the end of the first night of collection they had enough food to require two trips for the full compliment of four horses – each with a sled in tow.  Most of the staples donated were flour and grain products.  The villagers knew that the next few days would require more gathering and grinding of wheat products as well as nuts and even some berries.  They also expected a few men to go on a hunting expedition simply so that the village had meat for the first few days.  Any more meat than they could consume in a few days without salting would be too rancid to eat.  They would only be able to cook and smoke so much without drawing suspicion from their dragon father above.

When it was clear that the last villager had come for the night, Xando spoke a few words of direction.  “Ischarus,” Xando advised, “I think the villagers are done for the night.  Why don’t you and Charis take the first load to the caves?  I’ll keep watch here and make sure nothing happens to the store.  Then you can return and I’ll head to the caves with you and help with the horses.”

Charis helped Ischarus finish tying together the last of the sleds and rose to her feet.  All of their shirts were soaked in sweat and Charis felt a quick chill of the night air as a breeze blew past her bare arms.  She rubbed her arms vigorously and walked over to where she had placed her traveling cloak.  She drew it up over he shoulders and nodded to Ischarus.  “Xando’s right, Ischarus.  I’ve no doubt daylight is only a few hours off by now.  We’ll need to get this food moved before daylight or it’ll be easily spotted from the father dragon’s perch up high.”

Ischarus also stood, stretching out his aching back.  “Yeah.  I suppose we should.  Time for us to start walking and these horses to do some work!”  He took a few steps so as to be under Elistra’s neck and he reached up to give her a loving pat on the neck.  After ruffling her ears he walked over and grabbed the first sack of ground flour.  “Sacks of flour on the bottom.  They’ll crush everything else.”

Charis and Xando quickly followed Ischarus’ lead and before too long half the goods were loaded onto the sleds.  Charis and Ischarus led the horses away from Xando, who looked as though he might spend a bit of time napping while he guarded the reserve pile.  Neither Charis nor Ischarus thought anything of it, however.  Xando would surely wake if anyone approached and the next day would prove to be grueling without some sleep.

Ischarus and Charis easily unloaded the sled once they arrived at the mountain tunnels and found an appropriate cavern that looked large enough to hold the supply yet was far enough into the tunnel to keep from being an easy target for the dragon father.  Most importantly, the side cavern only had one entrance.  Before too long Ischarus returned to the food store back near the village and he smiled as he was forced to wake Xando.  The pair of men worked hard loading up the last of the food supplies.  

When they were done, Ischarus directed Xando to catch the last hour or less of sleep before the sun would rise.  “I can manage the horses; and you’ll need your sleep, Xando.”  The village elder offered up no objection to the suggestion in spite of his earlier offer to help with the horses since Charis was guarding the supplies of food on the other end.

Ischarus arrived back at the mountain tunnel just before the sun rose above the mountain tops to the east.  This trip of the horses took much more time since he had to guide all four along the trail by himself.  Eventually Charis heard Ischarus at the entrance to the underground tunnels and she left the storage area to help Ischarus with the rest of the journey.  The unloading process took less time with the both of them working together.  The coolness of the cave helped each of them fight off the wave of fatigue that was now taking its toll.

Once everything was unloaded from the sleds Ischarus offered up a plan of action.  “Why don’t you stay here in the caves and take the first watch of the food store?  You can free the horses from their sleds while I make my way to the place where Semeion and Rhema are so I can make sure their night went well.  I’ll return quickly and give you time to sleep.  We’ll trade off shifts until nightfall – saving our strength for tomorrow.  At least we won’t need to rebuild the sleds.”

Charis nodded in approval.  “True.  And if Xando is available to help again tomorrow night, one of us can run the horses in shifts moving food throughout the night rather than save it for all the horse to move together.”

Ischarus silently agreed with a nod to the affirmative.  He headed for the exit where the cavern joined with the regular tunnel.  “Stay safe until I return.”  Charis smiled at his concern and watched him leave the tunnel.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Across the camp, Charis was busy collecting food donations gathered from the heads of the village households. The food collection was slow in coming at first, but as the night progressed the pace picked up. Most of the villagers greeted Charis with a warm greeting. Often she was welcomed with hugs and exclamations at being able to see her again. It turned out that most in the village assumed she had been captured for use in some sort of slave trade, perhaps even demonic in origin. While the truth had been intentionally hidden from them by their dragon father, they were nonetheless happy to know she was safe. Most were even more grateful for the sacrifices that she had made in coming back to help them escape the torment that the lives of the villagers had known under the dragon father’s wrath.

While Charis played the face of the party with respect for the villagers, Ischarus and Xando went through the surrounding woods with some of Xando’s axes. They weren’t looking to cut down any trees, but they were certainly interested in taking the limbs off of any that happened to fall on their own. Ischarus knew that the most efficient manner for getting the vast quantity of food to the underground tunnels would be to have sleds that the horses could drag behind them. These sleds would be useful in the tunnels as well for carting the food from the storage place to whatever cavern in which they decided to wait out the dragon’s wrath. He looked for tree trunks that had substantial enough diameter to support the weight of the collected food but small enough diameter to be easily bound together without increasing the weight of the sled substantially. Fortunately for Ischarus there was plenty of soft pine in the area. The pine was not only lighter in weight but also easier to trim and drag to where he needed them.

At the end of the first night of collection they had enough food to require two trips for the full compliment of four horses – each with a sled in tow. Most of the staples donated were flour and grain products. The villagers knew that the next few days would require more gathering and grinding of wheat products as well as nuts and even some berries. They also expected a few men to go on a hunting expedition simply so that the village had meat for the first few days. Any more meat than they could consume in a few days without salting would be too rancid to eat. They would only be able to cook and smoke so much without drawing suspicion from their dragon father above.

When it was clear that the last villager had come for the night, Xando spoke a few words of direction. “Ischarus,” Xando advised, “I think the villagers are done for the night. Why don’t you and Charis take the first load to the caves? I’ll keep watch here and make sure nothing happens to the store. Then you can return and I’ll head to the caves with you and help with the horses.”

Charis helped Ischarus finish tying together the last of the sleds and rose to her feet. All of their shirts were soaked in sweat and Charis felt a quick chill of the night air as a breeze blew past her bare arms. She rubbed her arms vigorously and walked over to where she had placed her traveling cloak. She drew it up over he shoulders and nodded to Ischarus. “Xando’s right, Ischarus. I’ve no doubt daylight is only a few hours off by now. We’ll need to get this food moved before daylight or it’ll be easily spotted from the father dragon’s perch up high.”

Ischarus also stood, stretching out his aching back. “Yeah. I suppose we should. Time for us to start walking and these horses to do some work!” He took a few steps so as to be under Elistra’s neck and he reached up to give her a loving pat on the neck. After ruffling her ears he walked over and grabbed the first sack of ground flour. “Sacks of flour on the bottom. They’ll crush everything else.”

Charis and Xando quickly followed Ischarus’ lead and before too long half the goods were loaded onto the sleds. Charis and Ischarus led the horses away from Xando, who looked as though he might spend a bit of time napping while he guarded the reserve pile. Neither Charis nor Ischarus thought anything of it, however. Xando would surely wake if anyone approached and the next day would prove to be grueling without some sleep.

Ischarus and Charis easily unloaded the sled once they arrived at the mountain tunnels and found an appropriate cavern that looked large enough to hold the supply yet was far enough into the tunnel to keep from being an easy target for the dragon father. Most importantly, the side cavern only had one entrance. Before too long Ischarus returned to the food store back near the village and he smiled as he was forced to wake Xando. The pair of men worked hard loading up the last of the food supplies. 

When they were done, Ischarus directed Xando to catch the last hour or less of sleep before the sun would rise. “I can manage the horses; and you’ll need your sleep, Xando.” The village elder offered up no objection to the suggestion in spite of his earlier offer to help with the horses since Charis was guarding the supplies of food on the other end.

Ischarus arrived back at the mountain tunnel just before the sun rose above the mountain tops to the east. This trip of the horses took much more time since he had to guide all four along the trail by himself. Eventually Charis heard Ischarus at the entrance to the underground tunnels and she left the storage area to help Ischarus with the rest of the journey. The unloading process took less time with the both of them working together. The coolness of the cave helped each of them fight off the wave of fatigue that was now taking its toll.

Once everything was unloaded from the sleds Ischarus offered up a plan of action. “Why don’t you stay here in the caves and take the first watch of the food store? You can free the horses from their sleds while I make my way to the place where Semeion and Rhema are so I can make sure their night went well. I’ll return quickly and give you time to sleep. We’ll trade off shifts until nightfall – saving our strength for tomorrow. At least we won’t need to rebuild the sleds.”

Charis nodded in approval. “True. And if Xando is available to help again tomorrow night, one of us can run the horses in shifts moving food throughout the night rather than save it for all the horse to move together.”

Ischarus silently agreed with a nod to the affirmative. He headed for the exit where the cavern joined with the regular tunnel. “Stay safe until I return.” Charis smiled at his concern and watched him leave the tunnel.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Oct 19, 2006)

Ischarus slowly picked his way through the forest knowing full well that the sun would be up at any moment.  They were already hiding in the shadow of the dragon, so there didn’t seem to be any need to tempt fate and move too quickly.  It would be easy enough to alert the red wyrm of their presence.  Moving too quickly would simply add to the ease of making a mistake.  It would be nearly impossible to arrive before sunrise anyway; the packing of the food had taken longer than anticipated.  Of course, that was a good thing.  The store of food was greater than anticipated as well.

After Ischarus had walked for over a half an hour, the sun crept over the mountain tops and Ischarus could now hear the rhythmic chanting of the villagers.  This would be their Morning Prayer vigil offered up to their dragon father.  Ischarus assumed that it was unlikely that Grixanthrosilithiss would make an appearance.  The dragon had been present in the evening to take stock of his people.  There would be little need to make sure they had made it safely through the night.

As soon as the prayer vigil had come to Ischarus’ ears he knew that he had been wrong about his assumptions of the dragon father’s position.  He heard the draconic cry lofting through the sky and echoing of the surrounding mountain faces.  Apparently the dragon was indeed at his perch this morning taking inventory of his personal Drakontai.  

Ischarus froze in his position knowing that the canopy was thick above him.  He couldn’t see the sky; there was no way that the dragon could see him.  “Rhema!’ He cursed.  “Semeion!”  His voice was filled with venom as his mind hoped the two hadn’t been discovered in the dragon’s cave.  

Ischarus stayed frozen while the sharp and angry draconic cries poured forth from the sky.  The sound came at him from all angles.  The dragon was flying through the air now.  It had been enraged enough to leave its perch.  That could only mean his anger was one step closer to massive destruction by fire.

Back in the village, Xando made a quick count of the villagers present.  “One is missing!” he hissed under his breath.  “Who would dare miss Morning Prayer?  The wrath of our father dragon will certainly be upon us!  If this is one person’s way of sabotaging the plan then we will all be consumed in anger for it!”

The dragon circled above as its rage consumed it.  With each pass he drew closer and closer to the ground.  He was constantly counting and recounting his villagers in hopes that he had made a mistake.  As his eyes darted through the village he was sure that there had not been an error.  The Morning Prayer had the same purpose as the evening vigil.  It was designed to have stationary worshippers to allow for an easy counting.  There was indeed one missing.

Suddenly a figure broke from the woods and pushed forth into the midst of the villagers.  The cloak appeared to match the rest of the villagers’ cloaks and without a hint of remorse the villager assumed the same prayer position as the rest of the village.  Grixanthrosilithiss beat hard with his wings and rose into the air.  His draconic screaming ceased and he returned to the perch.  They were all present and accounted for now.  The father dragon did not wait to hear if the Morning Prayer ritual had resumed.  His anger needed to be placated.  So long as the villagers were all there he didn’t have enough to destroy them and still press forward with his plan for domination of the surrounding land.   The beast strutted angrily into his lair and admired his queen for a moment.  “I will be in my treasure chamber.  I need to appease my lust.”

The new Provenience, bearing his draconic children, gently pressed her hand against her abdomen once the dragon strutted by her.  Her touch was welcomed by a small yet forceful kick.  Then there was another kick.  Suddenly her bladder screamed out in pain as it too was kicked.  She nearly wet herself at the sudden increase of internal pressure.  She hurried to the room that her dragon father had designated for relieving herself and sat down.  “Triplets,” the woman pondered as she allowed her bladder to empty.  “I am sure of it.

Back in the heart of the forest, Ischarus waited several minutes after the draconic cries receded.  Once he heard the muffled Morning Prayer vigil beginning again he assumed that the dragon had been appeased and returned to his perch.  It would be safe to move forward; although it would also pay to be cautious.  He carefully picked his way through the dense undergrowth.

After an hour of delicate walking, Ischarus arrived at the hidden cave entrance.  “The Provenience wishes you well.”  It was all that Ischarus could think to say that would not immediately give his position away.  Assuming that Semeion and Rhema had not been compromised, it was long enough for them to recognize his voice.  If they were compromised, the sentence would not have seemed largely out of place.

Rhema replied with joy in her voice. “I hope she has plenty to eat this morning.” 

Ischarus quickly turned to the sound of the familiar voice and took a couple of quick steps into the cave towards it.  Rhema also rose and stepped forward to meet Ischarus’ silhouette.  Ischarus struggled to keep his voice to a whisper as relief poured through him as he embraced Rhema.  “As I was walking through the forest I heard the dragon cry.  I was afraid you had been found!” 

Rhema replied with an equal amount of relief.  “I feared that you had been discovered at first.  But then our guest here informed us of a simple oversight out of his zeal for his dragon father.  By keeping him tied up here in the entrance, the morning count would not be accurate.  Ordinarily the dragon would not have cared, but since Charis was taken a few months ago their dragon father had become especially possessive of his people.  It seems that he relishes any excuse to punish them.”

Ischarus seemed a bit lost by Rhema’s explanation of the earlier draconic cries. “Guest?” 

Rhema smiled as she replied.  “Yes, guest.  We had an intruder last night.  He was overcome and bound.  We assumed he could be transported to the storage area where keeping watch over him would be significantly easier.”

Ischarus paused a moment and took inventory of the situation.  “And you are safe?  What of Semeion?”

Rhema smiled at Ischarus’ protectiveness.  “I am indeed safe.  Semeion is …”

Before Rhema could finish her sentence, Semeion cut her off.  “Here.  I just returned and I heard you talking.  I didn’t want to interrupt your moment together until I was sure you had progressed to the business of the day.”  Semeion spoke quietly as he stepped deeper into the cave.

Ischarus turned to the young mage and spoke in a relieved tone.  “You too are safe, then.  Good to see!” Ischarus greeted Semeion with a firm handshake.

Semeion responded by returning Ischarus’ handshake and then hugging Rhema as she approached him.  “The mission was a success.  I got there barely in enough time.  The dragon was descending upon the village.”  After speaking, Semeion released Rhema and removed his outer cloak.  He tossed it in the direction where their prisoner lay.

The prisoner scowled at the news from Semeion.  “Do you think that you can hide from the dragon father forever?  Your tricks won’t help you without end.  You will be discovered.”

Semeion smiled, enjoying the ability to play with the captive man.  “Well, thanks to you we now realize that at each vigil all must be counted.  And largely thanks to your alerting us as to why the dragon father was upset I was able to make an appearance.  In the eyes of the villagers my willingness to potentially sacrifice my own life to attempt to appease the dragon father and save the village has furthered our case to be the heroes of this village.  Those who were unsure of our ability to save them are much more firm in their faith now.  The village is fully supportive as I speak.”  Semeion smiled as he turned to Ischarus.

Ischarus patted Semeion firmly on the shoulder.  “Well done, friend!  It would seem that the two of you have everything under control?”

Rhema chimed in with her opinion.  “If I may.  Our task would be easier if the captive was removed.  Then we could sleep in shifts without fear.  Can he be moved through the forest during the day?”

Ischarus drew out his long sword as quietly as possible and approached the captive villager.  “That depends if he’ll walk quietly by himself or if I’ll need to drag his broken body through the forest?”

The captive man didn’t really fear Semeion’s magic or Rhema’s mind control.  The cold steel blade was much more threatening in Ischarus’ strong arms, however.  “I can walk.”  The words seethed out of the man’s mouth as though he were forcing them out by will rather than by the air in his lungs.

Ischarus turned and stowed his sword.  He reached out and embraced Rhema once more, kissing her on her forehead.  “Good, then we shall leave now.  You two need your rest, and the dragon father has been appeased for now.  This is the most advantageous time to move.”

The captive man was forced to his feet and in a matter of seconds Ischarus shook Semeion’s hand once more and kissed Rhema again on the forehead.  “Be safe, both of you.”  Both Rhema and Semeion nodded in reply.

As he passed out of the entrance to the hidden cave he heard Semeion ask Rhema a question.  “Well, the two of you seem to be drawing close?”  There was a happy tone in his voice.  Unfortunately, Ischarus was already too far away to hear Rhema’s response.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Ischarus slowly picked his way through the forest knowing full well that the sun would be up at any moment. They were already hiding in the shadow of the dragon, so there didn’t seem to be any need to tempt fate and move too quickly. It would be easy enough to alert the red wyrm of their presence. Moving too quickly would simply add to the ease of making a mistake. It would be nearly impossible to arrive before sunrise anyway; the packing of the food had taken longer than anticipated. Of course, that was a good thing. The store of food was greater than anticipated as well.

After Ischarus had walked for over a half an hour, the sun crept over the mountain tops and Ischarus could now hear the rhythmic chanting of the villagers. This would be their Morning Prayer vigil offered up to their dragon father. Ischarus assumed that it was unlikely that Grixanthrosilithiss would make an appearance. The dragon had been present in the evening to take stock of his people. There would be little need to make sure they had made it safely through the night.

As soon as the prayer vigil had come to Ischarus’ ears he knew that he had been wrong about his assumptions of the dragon father’s position. He heard the draconic cry lofting through the sky and echoing of the surrounding mountain faces. Apparently the dragon was indeed at his perch this morning taking inventory of his personal Drakontai. 

Ischarus froze in his position knowing that the canopy was thick above him. He couldn’t see the sky; there was no way that the dragon could see him. “Rhema!’ He cursed. “Semeion!” His voice was filled with venom as his mind hoped the two hadn’t been discovered in the dragon’s cave. 

Ischarus stayed frozen while the sharp and angry draconic cries poured forth from the sky. The sound came at him from all angles. The dragon was flying through the air now. It had been enraged enough to leave its perch. That could only mean his anger was one step closer to massive destruction by fire.

Back in the village, Xando made a quick count of the villagers present. “One is missing!” he hissed under his breath. “Who would dare miss Morning Prayer? The wrath of our father dragon will certainly be upon us! If this is one person’s way of sabotaging the plan then we will all be consumed in anger for it!”

The dragon circled above as its rage consumed it. With each pass he drew closer and closer to the ground. He was constantly counting and recounting his villagers in hopes that he had made a mistake. As his eyes darted through the village he was sure that there had not been an error. The Morning Prayer had the same purpose as the evening vigil. It was designed to have stationary worshippers to allow for an easy counting. There was indeed one missing.

Suddenly a figure broke from the woods and pushed forth into the midst of the villagers. The cloak appeared to match the rest of the villagers’ cloaks and without a hint of remorse the villager assumed the same prayer position as the rest of the village. Grixanthrosilithiss beat hard with his wings and rose into the air. His draconic screaming ceased and he returned to the perch. They were all present and accounted for now. The father dragon did not wait to hear if the Morning Prayer ritual had resumed. His anger needed to be placated. So long as the villagers were all there he didn’t have enough to destroy them and still press forward with his plan for domination of the surrounding land. The beast strutted angrily into his lair and admired his queen for a moment. “I will be in my treasure chamber. I need to appease my lust.”

The new Provenience, bearing his draconic children, gently pressed her hand against her abdomen once the dragon strutted by her. Her touch was welcomed by a small yet forceful kick. Then there was another kick. Suddenly her bladder screamed out in pain as it too was kicked. She nearly wet herself at the sudden increase of internal pressure. She hurried to the room that her dragon father had designated for relieving herself and sat down. “Triplets,” the woman pondered as she allowed her bladder to empty. “I am sure of it.

Back in the heart of the forest, Ischarus waited several minutes after the draconic cries receded. Once he heard the muffled Morning Prayer vigil beginning again he assumed that the dragon had been appeased and returned to his perch. It would be safe to move forward; although it would also pay to be cautious. He carefully picked his way through the dense undergrowth.

After an hour of delicate walking, Ischarus arrived at the hidden cave entrance. “The Provenience wishes you well.” It was all that Ischarus could think to say that would not immediately give his position away. Assuming that Semeion and Rhema had not been compromised, it was long enough for them to recognize his voice. If they were compromised, the sentence would not have seemed largely out of place.

Rhema replied with joy in her voice. “I hope she has plenty to eat this morning.” 

Ischarus quickly turned to the sound of the familiar voice and took a couple of quick steps into the cave towards it. Rhema also rose and stepped forward to meet Ischarus’ silhouette. Ischarus struggled to keep his voice to a whisper as relief poured through him as he embraced Rhema. “As I was walking through the forest I heard the dragon cry. I was afraid you had been found!” 

Rhema replied with an equal amount of relief. “I feared that you had been discovered at first. But then our guest here informed us of a simple oversight out of his zeal for his dragon father. By keeping him tied up here in the entrance, the morning count would not be accurate. Ordinarily the dragon would not have cared, but since Charis was taken a few months ago their dragon father had become especially possessive of his people. It seems that he relishes any excuse to punish them.”

Ischarus seemed a bit lost by Rhema’s explanation of the earlier draconic cries. “Guest?” 

Rhema smiled as she replied. “Yes, guest. We had an intruder last night. He was overcome and bound. We assumed he could be transported to the storage area where keeping watch over him would be significantly easier.”

Ischarus paused a moment and took inventory of the situation. “And you are safe? What of Semeion?”

Rhema smiled at Ischarus’ protectiveness. “I am indeed safe. Semeion is …”

Before Rhema could finish her sentence, Semeion cut her off. “Here. I just returned and I heard you talking. I didn’t want to interrupt your moment together until I was sure you had progressed to the business of the day.” Semeion spoke quietly as he stepped deeper into the cave.

Ischarus turned to the young mage and spoke in a relieved tone. “You too are safe, then. Good to see!” Ischarus greeted Semeion with a firm handshake.

Semeion responded by returning Ischarus’ handshake and then hugging Rhema as she approached him. “The mission was a success. I got there barely in enough time. The dragon was descending upon the village.” After speaking, Semeion released Rhema and removed his outer cloak. He tossed it in the direction where their prisoner lay.

The prisoner scowled at the news from Semeion. “Do you think that you can hide from the dragon father forever? Your tricks won’t help you without end. You will be discovered.”

Semeion smiled, enjoying the ability to play with the captive man. “Well, thanks to you we now realize that at each vigil all must be counted. And largely thanks to your alerting us as to why the dragon father was upset I was able to make an appearance. In the eyes of the villagers my willingness to potentially sacrifice my own life to attempt to appease the dragon father and save the village has furthered our case to be the heroes of this village. Those who were unsure of our ability to save them are much more firm in their faith now. The village is fully supportive as I speak.” Semeion smiled as he turned to Ischarus.

Ischarus patted Semeion firmly on the shoulder. “Well done, friend! It would seem that the two of you have everything under control?”

Rhema chimed in with her opinion. “If I may. Our task would be easier if the captive was removed. Then we could sleep in shifts without fear. Can he be moved through the forest during the day?”

Ischarus drew out his long sword as quietly as possible and approached the captive villager. “That depends if he’ll walk quietly by himself or if I’ll need to drag his broken body through the forest?”

The captive man didn’t really fear Semeion’s magic or Rhema’s mind control. The cold steel blade was much more threatening in Ischarus’ strong arms, however. “I can walk.” The words seethed out of the man’s mouth as though he were forcing them out by will rather than by the air in his lungs.

Ischarus turned and stowed his sword. He reached out and embraced Rhema once more, kissing her on her forehead. “Good, then we shall leave now. You two need your rest, and the dragon father has been appeased for now. This is the most advantageous time to move.”

The captive man was forced to his feet and in a matter of seconds Ischarus shook Semeion’s hand once more and kissed Rhema again on the forehead. “Be safe, both of you.” Both Rhema and Semeion nodded in reply.

As he passed out of the entrance to the hidden cave he heard Semeion ask Rhema a question. “Well, the two of you seem to be drawing close?” There was a happy tone in his voice. Unfortunately, Ischarus was already too far away to hear Rhema’s response.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Oct 23, 2006)

Ischarus arrived back at the cave where Charis was protecting the storage of food.  He had the captive Drakontos in tow and honestly had received little trouble from him along the whole walk.  Not once did Ischarus need to do anything more than guide him along the path.  The Drakontos man followed with a beaten and resigned expression upon his face.

Once they arrived in the cave, they were greeted with amazement by Charis.  “Ischarus, what happened?”

Ischarus shrugged nonchalantly as he guided the man into the cave.  “Apparently this one decided that the plan would not go forward as scheduled.  Last night while we packed up the food store he decided to head into the dragon’s lair and warn his father dragon.  Fortunately, Semeion and Rhema were there to convince him otherwise.”

Charis looked to the man with sympathy.  He refused to meet her gaze.  Charis’ hands went to the binding ropes around the man’s wrists and she spoke, “Darrok?”  There was a hint of confusion in Charis’ question.  “If anyone had the most to gain from our promises it would be you.”

Darrok still didn’t lift his head.  He remained silent, his head bowed before Charis as if he were a disobedient slave about to be struck.  Charis continued, “Did not the promises of my friends to save even your daughter from the wrath of our father dragon sway you?”

Darrok finally lifted his head to meet her eyes.  His own eyes burned with fire.  “You promise only death.  Do they think they can break into the father dragon’s lair without being noticed?  Do they think that they can save my daughter and escape to freedom?  It is one thing to plan and dream, but I have seen the unrelenting wrath of our father dragon.  His wrath knows no end.  Since your departure several months ago he continues to push us to work until we are broken masses of flesh.  Then he expects us to work even more!”

Charis held up her hands in a gesture to encourage the man to calm his emotions.  From across the room, Ischarus stood ready at the entrance but didn’t desire to make his presence known unless it was necessary.  As far as Ischarus was concerned, the man was bound and thus harmless.  He was prepared to act in a moment’s notice; but for now he was content to stand behind the man in silence.

Charis continued her examination of the man.  “I understand what you are saying, Darrok.  But your daughter will surely be slaughtered as a sacrifice as soon as she has produced enough offspring and her body is worn out.  Then from what I have been told the dragon father will begin breeding those offspring into a new race of loyal Drakontai.  There is no hope for you here.”

The man replied bitterly, “Then at least you and I agree on something.  There is no hope for us here.  Yet there is also no hope in pursuing a plan that within a week will place us on the wrong side of a dragon’s breath.  If the plan that you and your friends devised could be stopped at the least our communal life would have continued for some time.”

Charis continued to look upon Darrok with sympathy.  “Do you have such little faith in us to be able to make such assumptions?  My new friends were able to free me from our dragon father’s grasp.  They have managed to come back to my land without detection.  They have accomplished many great things to come this far.  Why can you not have faith?”

Darrok responded to Charis’ sympathy with even more anger. “How can you have such faith?  Do you not see the cruelty and unrelenting oppression around you?  You should leave now while your freedom is yours to grasp.  Your mission cannot succeed.  Our dragon father is all powerful in his wrath, anger, and lust for power.”

Finally Ischarus saw his opening.  Ischarus reached deep within himself and remembered the religious training handed down to him by his own dragon father.  “Nothing that is alive and born is all powerful, Darrok.  Nothing.  The very nature of the process of birth makes a being subject to the rest of the world.  The tighter your dragon father has drawn his claws around the community the more resentment he has allowed to build up.  Your people, Charis’ people, want to cast off their yoke.  The more your dragon father grabs onto his power the more the rest of the world slips through his claws.”

Darrok shook his head and spun around on his heels.  “Is that what you live on?  I should hope that your sword is more skillful than your tongue, then.  Do you plan on saving us through your philosophy?  When it comes to the fiery breath of our dragon father you will see how very little truly slips through the grasp of my dragon father’s claws.  I care for him no more than the rest of my village.  But I am not blind to his ability to crush us all in an instant.”

Through the conversation Ischarus now saw why Charis pitied and yet simultaneously sympathized with Darrok.  There could be no doubt about it.  His will had been crushed.  The grip that the dragon father held over this man was pure evil.  Grixanthrosilithiss held this man purely in fear solely from the act of taking his daughter from him.  There was little to like about Darrok’s argumentation; but there was much to admire in his desire to continue in slavery if it meant his daughter would continue to live.

Ischarus smiled as he hoped he could affect both the freedom of the people and the freedom of the new Provenience.  Darrok gave Ischarus a strange look as the odd smile crept over Ischarus’ face.  The captive Drakontos spoke with a fair amount of venom in his tone, “What do you find so amusing?”

Ischarus shook his head.  “I remember what my friend said earlier this morning.  He said that your act of disobedience had taught us a valuable lesson about the days to come and what we would need to do to fool your dragon father.  Through your attempt to stop our plan a bit of fortune had come our way.  Now I realize that a bit of fortune has come your way as well.  In a manner of speaking, you are already safe.  By bringing you here you have already escaped the wrath that you so deeply fear.  You are free from the breath of your dragon father, Darrok.  You have escaped!”

The odd smile remained on Ischarus’ face.  However, Darrok didn’t share Ischarus’ amusement with that fact.  Rather, Darrok knew Ischarus was correct and it irritated him even more.  Immediately Darrok silenced himself and returned his gaze to the floor.  He couldn’t stand the fact that Ischarus was right.  He was free now that he was here in the caves.  His freedom would be bought over the coming days by the hard work and even greater likelihood of death in his village.

Gently Charis reached out to touch the silenced Darrok.  “Come over to the corner of the room, Darrok.  I will show you mercy and give you comfort and something to eat.”

Darrok shrugged away from Charis and refused her charity.  He did follow Charis to the other side of the room on his own power, however.  His spirit was broken and his wounds would need time to heal.  He welcomed the chance to sit alone in the dark in the far corner of the cave.

The next several days passed uneventfully for the foursome as they worked hard to make preparations for the exodus out of Quehalost.  Each day the donations for the supplies grew larger as the confidence among the people simultaneously grew.  With each day that they managed to keep from being discovered they strengthened in confidence that the plan might work. As their confidence strengthened, they felt more eager to work in the fields and hold less back at night.  

During the night, Ischarus was soon making multiple trips from the village to the cave in keeping up with the pace that the villagers brought forth harvested supplies.  He rotated the horses in pairs with each trip, allowing the horses time to rest between pulls.  

Charis became Darrok’s caretaker, although this was a vastly lonely job.  Darrok slipped deeper into depression and spoke less as each day passed.  Charis spent most of her time caring for the silent captive; yet because he would not talk she spent much of her time actually talking to the horses.

Semeion and Rhema likewise had an easy time.  Semeion embraced the duty of being Darrok’s doppelganger in an attempt to continue to fool the father dragon.  The village began to anticipate Semeion after a few appearances and Semeion found that with each appearance the people began to give him cakes made of flour and dried meat to take back to his associates.  After a few days, Semeion had learned the worship rites so thoroughly that he was able to participate freely and make his attempt to fool the father dragon even more real.

Five days went by until Ischarus declared that they had enough food for the entire village stored for an extended stay underground out of the reach of the father dragon.  The villagers were encouraged to work one more day and get a full night’s sleep the following night.  After that night, the plan would come into being immediately following the Morning Prayer rite.  Ischarus refrained from telling the people how they would know when to break for the caves; but he brought Xando to the cave the final night so that he would know the way to lead the people.  Semeion was instructed to watch for the right time following the Morning Prayer and give Xando the cue.  Xando would lead the people while Rhema and he climbed deeper into the dragon’s cave to find the new Provenience.  It was only a matter of hours before they would find out if Darrok would have his fears proven or refuted.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Ischarus arrived back at the cave where Charis was protecting the storage of food. He had the captive Drakontos in tow and honestly had received little trouble from him along the whole walk. Not once did Ischarus need to do anything more than guide him along the path. The Drakontos man followed with a beaten and resigned expression upon his face.

Once they arrived in the cave, they were greeted with amazement by Charis. “Ischarus, what happened?”

Ischarus shrugged nonchalantly as he guided the man into the cave. “Apparently this one decided that the plan would not go forward as scheduled. Last night while we packed up the food store he decided to head into the dragon’s lair and warn his father dragon. Fortunately, Semeion and Rhema were there to convince him otherwise.”

Charis looked to the man with sympathy. He refused to meet her gaze. Charis’ hands went to the binding ropes around the man’s wrists and she spoke, “Darrok?” There was a hint of confusion in Charis’ question. “If anyone had the most to gain from our promises it would be you.”

Darrok still didn’t lift his head. He remained silent, his head bowed before Charis as if he were a disobedient slave about to be struck. Charis continued, “Did not the promises of my friends to save even your daughter from the wrath of our father dragon sway you?”

Darrok finally lifted his head to meet her eyes. His own eyes burned with fire. “You promise only death. Do they think they can break into the father dragon’s lair without being noticed? Do they think that they can save my daughter and escape to freedom? It is one thing to plan and dream, but I have seen the unrelenting wrath of our father dragon. His wrath knows no end. Since your departure several months ago he continues to push us to work until we are broken masses of flesh. Then he expects us to work even more!”

Charis held up her hands in a gesture to encourage the man to calm his emotions. From across the room, Ischarus stood ready at the entrance but didn’t desire to make his presence known unless it was necessary. As far as Ischarus was concerned, the man was bound and thus harmless. He was prepared to act in a moment’s notice; but for now he was content to stand behind the man in silence.

Charis continued her examination of the man. “I understand what you are saying, Darrok. But your daughter will surely be slaughtered as a sacrifice as soon as she has produced enough offspring and her body is worn out. Then from what I have been told the dragon father will begin breeding those offspring into a new race of loyal Drakontai. There is no hope for you here.”

The man replied bitterly, “Then at least you and I agree on something. There is no hope for us here. Yet there is also no hope in pursuing a plan that within a week will place us on the wrong side of a dragon’s breath. If the plan that you and your friends devised could be stopped at the least our communal life would have continued for some time.”

Charis continued to look upon Darrok with sympathy. “Do you have such little faith in us to be able to make such assumptions? My new friends were able to free me from our dragon father’s grasp. They have managed to come back to my land without detection. They have accomplished many great things to come this far. Why can you not have faith?”

Darrok responded to Charis’ sympathy with even more anger. “How can you have such faith? Do you not see the cruelty and unrelenting oppression around you? You should leave now while your freedom is yours to grasp. Your mission cannot succeed. Our dragon father is all powerful in his wrath, anger, and lust for power.”

Finally Ischarus saw his opening. Ischarus reached deep within himself and remembered the religious training handed down to him by his own dragon father. “Nothing that is alive and born is all powerful, Darrok. Nothing. The very nature of the process of birth makes a being subject to the rest of the world. The tighter your dragon father has drawn his claws around the community the more resentment he has allowed to build up. Your people, Charis’ people, want to cast off their yoke. The more your dragon father grabs onto his power the more the rest of the world slips through his claws.”

Darrok shook his head and spun around on his heels. “Is that what you live on? I should hope that your sword is more skillful than your tongue, then. Do you plan on saving us through your philosophy? When it comes to the fiery breath of our dragon father you will see how very little truly slips through the grasp of my dragon father’s claws. I care for him no more than the rest of my village. But I am not blind to his ability to crush us all in an instant.”

Through the conversation Ischarus now saw why Charis pitied and yet simultaneously sympathized with Darrok. There could be no doubt about it. His will had been crushed. The grip that the dragon father held over this man was pure evil. Grixanthrosilithiss held this man purely in fear solely from the act of taking his daughter from him. There was little to like about Darrok’s argumentation; but there was much to admire in his desire to continue in slavery if it meant his daughter would continue to live.

Ischarus smiled as he hoped he could affect both the freedom of the people and the freedom of the new Provenience. Darrok gave Ischarus a strange look as the odd smile crept over Ischarus’ face. The captive Drakontos spoke with a fair amount of venom in his tone, “What do you find so amusing?”

Ischarus shook his head. “I remember what my friend said earlier this morning. He said that your act of disobedience had taught us a valuable lesson about the days to come and what we would need to do to fool your dragon father. Through your attempt to stop our plan a bit of fortune had come our way. Now I realize that a bit of fortune has come your way as well. In a manner of speaking, you are already safe. By bringing you here you have already escaped the wrath that you so deeply fear. You are free from the breath of your dragon father, Darrok. You have escaped!”

The odd smile remained on Ischarus’ face. However, Darrok didn’t share Ischarus’ amusement with that fact. Rather, Darrok knew Ischarus was correct and it irritated him even more. Immediately Darrok silenced himself and returned his gaze to the floor. He couldn’t stand the fact that Ischarus was right. He was free now that he was here in the caves. His freedom would be bought over the coming days by the hard work and even greater likelihood of death in his village.

Gently Charis reached out to touch the silenced Darrok. “Come over to the corner of the room, Darrok. I will show you mercy and give you comfort and something to eat.”

Darrok shrugged away from Charis and refused her charity. He did follow Charis to the other side of the room on his own power, however. His spirit was broken and his wounds would need time to heal. He welcomed the chance to sit alone in the dark in the far corner of the cave.

The next several days passed uneventfully for the foursome as they worked hard to make preparations for the exodus out of Quehalost. Each day the donations for the supplies grew larger as the confidence among the people simultaneously grew. With each day that they managed to keep from being discovered they strengthened in confidence that the plan might work. As their confidence strengthened, they felt more eager to work in the fields and hold less back at night. 

During the night, Ischarus was soon making multiple trips from the village to the cave in keeping up with the pace that the villagers brought forth harvested supplies. He rotated the horses in pairs with each trip, allowing the horses time to rest between pulls. 

Charis became Darrok’s caretaker, although this was a vastly lonely job. Darrok slipped deeper into depression and spoke less as each day passed. Charis spent most of her time caring for the silent captive; yet because he would not talk she spent much of her time actually talking to the horses.

Semeion and Rhema likewise had an easy time. Semeion embraced the duty of being Darrok’s doppelganger in an attempt to continue to fool the father dragon. The village began to anticipate Semeion after a few appearances and Semeion found that with each appearance the people began to give him cakes made of flour and dried meat to take back to his associates. After a few days, Semeion had learned the worship rites so thoroughly that he was able to participate freely and make his attempt to fool the father dragon even more real.

Five days went by until Ischarus declared that they had enough food for the entire village stored for an extended stay underground out of the reach of the father dragon. The villagers were encouraged to work one more day and get a full night’s sleep the following night. After that night, the plan would come into being immediately following the Morning Prayer rite. Ischarus refrained from telling the people how they would know when to break for the caves; but he brought Xando to the cave the final night so that he would know the way to lead the people. Semeion was instructed to watch for the right time following the Morning Prayer and give Xando the cue. Xando would lead the people while Rhema and he climbed deeper into the dragon’s cave to find the new Provenience. It was only a matter of hours before they would find out if Darrok would have his fears proven or refuted.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Oct 24, 2006)

*Chapter Twelve: THE LONG SHOT *

The long awaited morning arrived.  Most of the villagers had the benefit of a good night’s sleep.  They were excited about their looming freedom; yet they had joyfully worked themselves to the bone the past few days and nights.  Their minds tried to race with the thoughts of fleeing and the excitement of the day to come.  Their exhausted bodies told them to lie down and go to sleep.  When they eventually were able to find sleep, the majority of the villagers slept quite soundly during the night.

This was not the case for any of the members of the party.  They had to be rather vigilant about keeping their watches and protecting the future of the days ahead.  Semeion and Rhema hadn’t had any activity in the hidden cave besides a string of squirrels and the occasional rabbit.  In truth, the job of guarding the hidden entrance to the dragon’s cave had become rather boring.  Yet they had to remain attentive to their duties.  The fact that they took turns sleeping in shifts had already messed up their sleeping schedule, making it even more difficult to focus on getting the rest that they would need for the coming day.

The same was true for Charis and Ischarus, except that they didn’t fear discovery from the dragon as much as they feared discovery from the denizens of the underground.  There had been a few encounters as the days passed by, but a simple show of force was enough to scare off most of the animals that came their way in search of food.  Fortunately for them they were far from the gnoll controlled lands and the kobolds underground were not prone to adventuring this far to the surface unless called forth by some greater force.  Yet Charis had to remain especially cautious during the times when Ischarus was out with the horses bringing in the supplies.  Between the duties of watching Darrok, protecting the food supplies, running the horses back and forth, and worrying about Semeion and Rhema, neither Charis nor Ischarus had been sleeping well of late.  They were ready to put the coming day behind them.

In the village, people began to slowly mill about the circular flat stone altar around the normal time for the Morning Prayer vigil.  A few had shown up early in anticipation, but fortunately most of the villagers had listened to Xando’s caution the night before about not doing anything out of the ordinary.  It would be important that the village put on an appearance that this was simply just another day in the life of enslaved people.

As Xando noticed people were gathering early he peeked out a window of his own house to observe them.  He spoke to himself as nervous energy flowed through his muscles.  “Only a few out there this early, and they appear to be behaving themselves.  They are standing around talking to one another rather than looking around expectantly.  So far, so good.”  He paced around his own quarters for a few more minutes until he heard more and more people gathering.  Inside, his heart leapt with each beat in anticipation of the moments to come.  But his body also told him that the rising of the sun would come soon.  It was time.

Xando stepped out of the hut and descended the two stairs that brought him down to the level of the ground.  His eyes darted around the scene of the village.  Today more than any other day it was important that the count of the villagers was right.  Slowly his eyes made a methodic path through the people, his lips moving as his count was barely audible.  It was tough to count the people as they moved about, but the numbers seemed to appear to be right.

A hand touched him from behind, resting upon his shoulder.  Xando jumped several inches off the ground as the hand landed upon his shoulder and startled him.  He spun around quickly, not knowing what he would find.  Much to his relief, he saw that Semeion had approached him from behind.

The young mage wanted to speak briefly to the village leader.  “Your people seem restless this morning.”

Xando smiled and replied, “With good reason, I believe.  They know what they have worked for.  They know that the days of their labor under an oppressive master are numbered.  They long to taste the freedom that you, Charis, and the others have promised.”

Semeion nodded his head in agreement.  “Let us hope their excitement does not betray us in their zeal to finish the Morning Prayer.”

Xando took a brief second to turn around and look at his people.  They were good people, but as the village gathered their nervous energy was feeding off of one another.  “My people are good people, like Charis.  We will manage.”  There was a steadiness in Xando’s voice that Semeion understood as strength in leadership.

Semeion nodded calmly again.  “I hope you are right.  No, I know that you are right.  But perhaps as we are called to worship it wouldn’t hurt to pass a message through the ranks to remember to do the rite as people who are under obvious oppression and not people who will soon be running for their freedom?”

Xando smiled.  “I suppose you are correct, Semeion.  Our dragon father has grown accustomed to this being an emotionless time for him to count us.  We dare not change that and risk raising any suspicion.”

Semeion asked one final question as he could feel the tension among the people building around him.  “Are all of the people here?”

The crisp sound of a small steel rod striking a metal triangle rang through the air.  It was the call to gather.  The sun was beginning to crest over the horizon.  “We shall soon see.  We shall soon see.”  Xando repeated himself as if preparing himself for the moments ahead.  Once he had taken a moment of break he continued, “No go, and spread your message of calm.  And keep it simple.”

Xando placed his left hand upon Semeion’s shoulder as if he were laying a blessing upon him.  For a second they locked their eyes in a joint glance and then they turned away.  Each one eagerly anticipated doing the count.  The number had to be correct only one more time.

As Semeion took his place upon the ground in a kneeling position he spoke softly before the prayers began.  “Listen to me, all that can hear.  Remember that you are a people oppressed.  Pray like you have prayed the past week.  Do not pray with any of the excitement building up inside you.”

Some of the people around him nodded in understanding.  Semeion continued.  “Pass this message along.”

Soon he could hear the gathered villagers passing along the message around him.  As their heads bowed, they spoke softly so as to not give away the communication.  Nobody looked up to the dragon father’s perch, but they all assumed he was there.  They assumed he was awaiting the beginning of the prayer.  They assumed he was counting.

Grixanthrosilithiss was indeed perched high above them.  As he looked down, he did notice that there were two bowed heads that seemed to be actively counting the gathered worshippers.  He had already counted them and was pleased with his count.  He reached out with a claw and drew his Provenience to the very lip of the rocky perch.  “See those two that count?  It is good that they take my worship regulations so seriously.  I believe one of them is your father, is it not?”  Of course he was referring to Semeion, who had taken Darrok’s place among the worship of the people.

The Provenience looked down and could barely see the people praying below.  Her eyesight was not nearly as keen as that of her dragon father.  Nervously, she spoke, “I do not know, my dragon father.  I cannot see as well as you.”

The dragon exhaled loudly and pulled her back from the ledge.  A low rumble resembling a growl boiled forth from the inside of the beast.  “I keep hoping that with each breeding more of my qualities will improve the weaknesses of human kind.  At least your children will have their share of my own undiluted power.  In any case, it is good that your father takes the worship so seriously.  See what he has learned from your willingness to serve your people in this role?”

The new Provenience bowed in a slight curtsy.  “Yes, my lord.  It is time that they got over the oppression and learned again to take your commands so seriously.”

Grixanthrosilithiss smiled as he counted one last time.  Satisfied, he turned away from the perch and led his Provenience into the cave.  “You have pleased me today.  I prefer the simple worship that you offer to me upon your mandolin far better than the flat worship of the people anyway.  Sing to me so that your pleasant voice may cover up the grievous and uncaring worship below.  Once that dreadful service is over I will take you to my horde so that I may admire you among my other possessions.”

The Provenience smiled genuinely as she was led back into the cave.  As the dragon curled his tail around her and then sat surrounding her, she gathered up her mandolin and rested it upon her thighs.  She reclined slightly, enjoying the warmth of the dragon’s scales upon her back.  Slowly, she began to sing a love ballad to her dragon father.

At near the same time, the people on the ground below began their worship.  Nobody desired to look up and see if the dragon was watching or they would have noticed that the dragon was gone.  They sang their worship through in much of the same manner as they had done for the past months.  They sang as a people crushed under oppression.  They sang as if their hearts were far from where they knelt.  They sang constantly pushing back the anticipation that swelled as they approached the end of the Morning Prayer.

The final declaration of the prayer rite – to go and work during the day for the glory of the dragon father – would come quick enough.  The gathered community progressed rapidly through the prayer rite.  Semeion resisted the urge to fidget as even he could feel within himself the excitement building.  As they approached the end of the rite, he brought himself to look up for the sign.  He was the only one looking up.  He was the only one that noticed the dragon father wasn’t there.  The rest of the village was firmly holding their stare upon the ground below their knees.


[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Chapter Twelve: THE LONG SHOT 

The long awaited morning arrived. Most of the villagers had the benefit of a good night’s sleep. They were excited about their looming freedom; yet they had joyfully worked themselves to the bone the past few days and nights. Their minds tried to race with the thoughts of fleeing and the excitement of the day to come. Their exhausted bodies told them to lie down and go to sleep. When they eventually were able to find sleep, the majority of the villagers slept quite soundly during the night.

This was not the case for any of the members of the party. They had to be rather vigilant about keeping their watches and protecting the future of the days ahead. Semeion and Rhema hadn’t had any activity in the hidden cave besides a string of squirrels and the occasional rabbit. In truth, the job of guarding the hidden entrance to the dragon’s cave had become rather boring. Yet they had to remain attentive to their duties. The fact that they took turns sleeping in shifts had already messed up their sleeping schedule, making it even more difficult to focus on getting the rest that they would need for the coming day.

The same was true for Charis and Ischarus, except that they didn’t fear discovery from the dragon as much as they feared discovery from the denizens of the underground. There had been a few encounters as the days passed by, but a simple show of force was enough to scare off most of the animals that came their way in search of food. Fortunately for them they were far from the gnoll controlled lands and the kobolds underground were not prone to adventuring this far to the surface unless called forth by some greater force. Yet Charis had to remain especially cautious during the times when Ischarus was out with the horses bringing in the supplies. Between the duties of watching Darrok, protecting the food supplies, running the horses back and forth, and worrying about Semeion and Rhema, neither Charis nor Ischarus had been sleeping well of late. They were ready to put the coming day behind them.

In the village, people began to slowly mill about the circular flat stone altar around the normal time for the Morning Prayer vigil. A few had shown up early in anticipation, but fortunately most of the villagers had listened to Xando’s caution the night before about not doing anything out of the ordinary. It would be important that the village put on an appearance that this was simply just another day in the life of enslaved people.

As Xando noticed people were gathering early he peeked out a window of his own house to observe them. He spoke to himself as nervous energy flowed through his muscles. “Only a few out there this early, and they appear to be behaving themselves. They are standing around talking to one another rather than looking around expectantly. So far, so good.” He paced around his own quarters for a few more minutes until he heard more and more people gathering. Inside, his heart leapt with each beat in anticipation of the moments to come. But his body also told him that the rising of the sun would come soon. It was time.

Xando stepped out of the hut and descended the two stairs that brought him down to the level of the ground. His eyes darted around the scene of the village. Today more than any other day it was important that the count of the villagers was right. Slowly his eyes made a methodic path through the people, his lips moving as his count was barely audible. It was tough to count the people as they moved about, but the numbers seemed to appear to be right.

A hand touched him from behind, resting upon his shoulder. Xando jumped several inches off the ground as the hand landed upon his shoulder and startled him. He spun around quickly, not knowing what he would find. Much to his relief, he saw that Semeion had approached him from behind.

The young mage wanted to speak briefly to the village leader. “Your people seem restless this morning.”

Xando smiled and replied, “With good reason, I believe. They know what they have worked for. They know that the days of their labor under an oppressive master are numbered. They long to taste the freedom that you, Charis, and the others have promised.”

Semeion nodded his head in agreement. “Let us hope their excitement does not betray us in their zeal to finish the Morning Prayer.”

Xando took a brief second to turn around and look at his people. They were good people, but as the village gathered their nervous energy was feeding off of one another. “My people are good people, like Charis. We will manage.” There was a steadiness in Xando’s voice that Semeion understood as strength in leadership.

Semeion nodded calmly again. “I hope you are right. No, I know that you are right. But perhaps as we are called to worship it wouldn’t hurt to pass a message through the ranks to remember to do the rite as people who are under obvious oppression and not people who will soon be running for their freedom?”

Xando smiled. “I suppose you are correct, Semeion. Our dragon father has grown accustomed to this being an emotionless time for him to count us. We dare not change that and risk raising any suspicion.”

Semeion asked one final question as he could feel the tension among the people building around him. “Are all of the people here?”

The crisp sound of a small steel rod striking a metal triangle rang through the air. It was the call to gather. The sun was beginning to crest over the horizon. “We shall soon see. We shall soon see.” Xando repeated himself as if preparing himself for the moments ahead. Once he had taken a moment of break he continued, “No go, and spread your message of calm. And keep it simple.”

Xando placed his left hand upon Semeion’s shoulder as if he were laying a blessing upon him. For a second they locked their eyes in a joint glance and then they turned away. Each one eagerly anticipated doing the count. The number had to be correct only one more time.

As Semeion took his place upon the ground in a kneeling position he spoke softly before the prayers began. “Listen to me, all that can hear. Remember that you are a people oppressed. Pray like you have prayed the past week. Do not pray with any of the excitement building up inside you.”

Some of the people around him nodded in understanding. Semeion continued. “Pass this message along.”

Soon he could hear the gathered villagers passing along the message around him. As their heads bowed, they spoke softly so as to not give away the communication. Nobody looked up to the dragon father’s perch, but they all assumed he was there. They assumed he was awaiting the beginning of the prayer. They assumed he was counting.

Grixanthrosilithiss was indeed perched high above them. As he looked down, he did notice that there were two bowed heads that seemed to be actively counting the gathered worshippers. He had already counted them and was pleased with his count. He reached out with a claw and drew his Provenience to the very lip of the rocky perch. “See those two that count? It is good that they take my worship regulations so seriously. I believe one of them is your father, is it not?” Of course he was referring to Semeion, who had taken Darrok’s place among the worship of the people.

The Provenience looked down and could barely see the people praying below. Her eyesight was not nearly as keen as that of her dragon father. Nervously, she spoke, “I do not know, my dragon father. I cannot see as well as you.”

The dragon exhaled loudly and pulled her back from the ledge. A low rumble resembling a growl boiled forth from the inside of the beast. “I keep hoping that with each breeding more of my qualities will improve the weaknesses of human kind. At least your children will have their share of my own undiluted power. In any case, it is good that your father takes the worship so seriously. See what he has learned from your willingness to serve your people in this role?”

The new Provenience bowed in a slight curtsy. “Yes, my lord. It is time that they got over the oppression and learned again to take your commands so seriously.”

Grixanthrosilithiss smiled as he counted one last time. Satisfied, he turned away from the perch and led his Provenience into the cave. “You have pleased me today. I prefer the simple worship that you offer to me upon your mandolin far better than the flat worship of the people anyway. Sing to me so that your pleasant voice may cover up the grievous and uncaring worship below. Once that dreadful service is over I will take you to my horde so that I may admire you among my other possessions.”

The Provenience smiled genuinely as she was led back into the cave. As the dragon curled his tail around her and then sat surrounding her, she gathered up her mandolin and rested it upon her thighs. She reclined slightly, enjoying the warmth of the dragon’s scales upon her back. Slowly, she began to sing a love ballad to her dragon father.

At near the same time, the people on the ground below began their worship. Nobody desired to look up and see if the dragon was watching or they would have noticed that the dragon was gone. They sang their worship through in much of the same manner as they had done for the past months. They sang as a people crushed under oppression. They sang as if their hearts were far from where they knelt. They sang constantly pushing back the anticipation that swelled as they approached the end of the Morning Prayer.

The final declaration of the prayer rite – to go and work during the day for the glory of the dragon father – would come quick enough. The gathered community progressed rapidly through the prayer rite. Semeion resisted the urge to fidget as even he could feel within himself the excitement building. As they approached the end of the rite, he brought himself to look up for the sign. He was the only one looking up. He was the only one that noticed the dragon father wasn’t there. The rest of the village was firmly holding their stare upon the ground below their knees.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Oct 25, 2006)

The closing words of the prayer were sung.  Semeion continued to look up as he waited for the signal.  Cautiously he spoke softly, “Hold your positions! Do not move until I give the order!  We must be patient and not tip our hand too soon or else all will be lost!”

Three-quarters of the way up the mountain the gray figure heard the end of the prayer.  Using the abilities granted to him by his unfortunate ghostly condition, he vanished straight into the side of the mountain.  In a matter of seconds he appeared within the chamber which contained the dragon’s horde.  The figure looked about the room quickly, knowing that his choice would have to be significant.  He grinned as he saw the piece that would surely catch the dragon’s attention.  The portion of the treasure that had caught the gray figure’s eye sat nearly buried in one of the piles of gold that spanned the floor of the room.  The deep redness of the large ruby sparkled brilliantly in contrast with the gold.

In a flash of movement the gray figure concentrated in order to be able to pick up the ruby.  As he pulled it from the pile, a bit of the gold spilled while the pile attempted to seek a new balance.  The ruby was larger than he anticipated, but it would still do.  In fact, the larger size may have even made it a more perfect selection.

In the dragon’s main chamber, Grixanthrosilithiss lifted his head and his large reptilian eyes darted towards the passage that led to his horde room.  The new Provenience was startled by the sudden movement and stopped playing and singing immediately.

As she stopped singing, her hand reached out to touch the dragon’s softer underbelly.  She had grown accustomed to the motion as being one that would soothe the great wyrm.  “What’s wrong?”  The Provenience spoke with a concerned tone at the dragon’s sudden movement.  She had seen the dragon alarmed before, but never had she seen him stare so intently into his horde chamber.

The wyrm looked to his Provenience and spoke as soft as possible for a creature of his size.  “Silence.  We may have a visitor among us.”

The gray figure knew that the ruby would not be able to leave the way that the figure had come.  While the ghost could easily pass through walls and the like; the ruby could not.  More importantly, even if the ruby could pass through the walls it would defeat the purpose of alerting the red dragon to the fact that a thief was present and stealing from the horde.  The light-gray figure did not know that the spell casting prowess of the large wyrm was great enough to allow the dragon to know the location of every piece of his treasure so long as it was within the horde room.

The ghostly figure looked once more at the ruby and smiled.  “This will do nicely, indeed!”  The figure was pleased with his choice.  With determination he rapidly flew through the air to the entrance of the horde room.  In a flash he disappeared down the long hallway which led to the dragon’s main chamber.

Inside the main chamber the dragon rose in fury as it detected the movement of the ruby.  Its scaled body rapidly uncoiled from around his Provenience, spilling her backwards onto the floor.  She had been relaxing upon him, enjoying the natural warmth rising from his scales.  When the support was moved, she rolled onto her back.  

The Provenience thought to speak, but before she could bring the words to her lips the dragon bellowed loud enough to shake the items with the main chamber slightly.  “There is a thief among my horde and he is coming this way!”  The bellowing of the dragon echoed through the entire draconic lair.  

Although the mountain didn’t actually move, the Provenience was sure that the foundations shook under the dragon’s fury.  Wisely, she moved to the corner of the room that offered no passageways away.  The fury of the dragon would be fierce; and surely the dragon would enjoy using its breath to destroy whatever creature found itself confronting the dragon.  Within the corner she chose she would have the best chance of avoiding being caught in the middle of the dragon’s wrath.

At the foot of the mountain, Semeion and the villagers heard the draconic bellowing.  Semeion beamed with excitement as he began to improvise in his mind.  Once he had a quick improvisational plan he spoke, his voice betraying his excitement.  “Listen to me!  The sign for our departure is coming quickly now.  Continue to bow with your heads to the ground.  Xando, can you begin us again in any chant that is about two minutes from the conclusion of the prayer?”

Xando did not respond, but his eyes darted wildly as he mentally sorted through the Morning Prayer rite.  Finally the draconic words came to his mind and he began the chant again.  “Now the sun has risen …”  The entire village immediately picked up on the location within the Morning Prayer rite and joined him in song.  Semeion began to chant as well, having learned the rite from the past few days of practice.

Back inside the dragon’s main chamber the wyrm turned his body around so that he was facing directly down the tunnel.  The gray figure spotted the dragon first and realized that its presence had been detected earlier than it had expected.  Using its ghostly abilities to its advantage, the figure charged up the tunnel at the dragon until it saw the beast inhale a large volume of air.  As the dragon’s neck sprang forward and poured a tremendous volume of flame from out of its mouth, the gray figure floated off of the ground and rose to the top of the ceiling.  He twisted out of the way of the dragon’s flames and soared over the effect of the breath.

Grixanthrosilithiss stopped his breath short as he noticed only too late that the figure had evaded his devastating fire.  The dragon raised his head, attempting to block the passage with his massive and once more coiled neck.  The gray figure did realize that the dragon would need a bit of time to recharge its fiery breath and now it would prefer to attack with wings and claws.  The figure also spotted the opening that it needed.

With a mighty toss the ghostly figure threw the ruby down to the ground at the base of the dragon’s feet.  The ruby hit the ground a skidded underneath the dragon and out from under the back of the beast.  The ruby shot across the room after emerging from under where the dragon’s tail connected with the dragon’s body.  

This action caught the dragon off guard.  The beast was helpless to stop the speeding ruby, but it knew that the figure was trapped in the tunnel.  If it could finish off the intruder in the tunnel it could easily retrieve the ruby once the threat was over.  Grixanthrosilithiss lunged with his mighty fangs and bit down hard in the direction of the gray figure.

Free from the material possession in the form of the ruby, the gray figure had planned for the dragon’s bite.  As the beast’s jaws cut the air in front of him the ghostly figure simply flew into the rock beside him.  The ghostly image was not held by the same physical boundaries that held the dragon.  In an instant the gray figure emerged from the wall in the dragon’s main chamber where the tunnel to the horde room branched off.  The figure rapidly floated over to where the precious stone lay and snatched the ruby from where it had come to rest upon the floor.  The dragon’s head and neck were still within the confines of the tunnel.

Grixanthrosilithiss’ new Provenience shrieked as she saw the ghostly figure.  The dragon heard the shriek and instinctively backed out of the tunnel.  By the time the dragon was able to turn his body around the gray figure had already snatched up the ruby and floated from the main chamber onto the dragon’s perch.  He had a good lead, but it would vanish quickly when the dragon took to the air.  The ghost could float fast enough against humans and the like; but it had no chance of outpacing the dragon.  The gray figure’s only chance was to hope to use its greater maneuverability until it could get to the forest.  Once among the trees, its maneuverability would be a greater asset than the dragon’s great flying speed.

Semeion looked on from below as the villagers again drew near the end of the Morning Prayer vigil.  He saw the gray figure emerge from the dragon’s perch and his heart leapt with excitement.  It wouldn’t be long now.

No sooner had Semeion completed the thought than the large form of the red dragon broke into the sky in pursuit of the fleeing gray figure.  The dragon howled in rage, drawing up more than a few glances from the villagers below.  Semeion noticed that the villagers were on the verge of being distracted.

Speaking only loud enough to be barely heard over the chanting villagers Semeion added, “All is well, keep singing!  We are almost there!  Put your heads down!”

The villagers responded to Semeion’s urging out of fear.  Their heads snapped to the ground and the chanting wavered a bit before becoming strong once again.  Semeion continued to glance up, tracking the chase across the sky.

It was obvious the dragon possessed the greater speed.  Only the sudden lurches of the gray figure kept the chase alive.  Time and time again the dragon barely overshot the figure as the ghostly image dodged out of the way of the fangs, claws, and the occasional draconic breath.  Slowly, the chase was descending to the ground according to the plan.  Slowly, the chase was moving toward the east.  The gray figure was luring the great wyrm away from the mountain where Ischarus and Charis waited.

After only a few minutes the chase was close enough to the ground that the treetops blocked the view of it from the village.  Semeion leapt to his feet and began grabbing villagers by the shoulders and pulling them up to their feet.  “Run!” Semeion shouted.  “Follow Xando to your freedom.  Do not return for anything.  Flee with your lives!”

Xando sprang to his feet.  For an instant he caught Semeion’s eyes and gave him a sympathetic look.  Xando was grateful for this chance to lead his people to freedom.  He also knew that for Semeion the greater challenge was still before him.  As people rose to their feet and blocked Semeion from his view, he spoke a quick prayer.  This prayer was not a prayer to his dragon father.  Rather, this prayer was to an unknown god that he was sure had to exist beyond the confines of the known world.  Once his prayer was complete the village leader turned and charged into the forest heading west.

Semeion ran to the secret entrance at the foot of the mountain.  As he broke to the south and left the confines of the village behind him he heard Xando encouraging the people.  “Keep running!  Do not stop until the rock tunnels protect you!”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
The closing words of the prayer were sung. Semeion continued to look up as he waited for the signal. Cautiously he spoke softly, “Hold your positions! Do not move until I give the order! We must be patient and not tip our hand too soon or else all will be lost!”

Three-quarters of the way up the mountain the gray figure heard the end of the prayer. Using the abilities granted to him by his unfortunate ghostly condition, he vanished straight into the side of the mountain. In a matter of seconds he appeared within the chamber which contained the dragon’s horde. The figure looked about the room quickly, knowing that his choice would have to be significant. He grinned as he saw the piece that would surely catch the dragon’s attention. The portion of the treasure that had caught the gray figure’s eye sat nearly buried in one of the piles of gold that spanned the floor of the room. The deep redness of the large ruby sparkled brilliantly in contrast with the gold.

In a flash of movement the gray figure concentrated in order to be able to pick up the ruby. As he pulled it from the pile, a bit of the gold spilled while the pile attempted to seek a new balance. The ruby was larger than he anticipated, but it would still do. In fact, the larger size may have even made it a more perfect selection.

In the dragon’s main chamber, Grixanthrosilithiss lifted his head and his large reptilian eyes darted towards the passage that led to his horde room. The new Provenience was startled by the sudden movement and stopped playing and singing immediately.

As she stopped singing, her hand reached out to touch the dragon’s softer underbelly. She had grown accustomed to the motion as being one that would soothe the great wyrm. “What’s wrong?” The Provenience spoke with a concerned tone at the dragon’s sudden movement. She had seen the dragon alarmed before, but never had she seen him stare so intently into his horde chamber.

The wyrm looked to his Provenience and spoke as soft as possible for a creature of his size. “Silence. We may have a visitor among us.”

The gray figure knew that the ruby would not be able to leave the way that the figure had come. While the ghost could easily pass through walls and the like; the ruby could not. More importantly, even if the ruby could pass through the walls it would defeat the purpose of alerting the red dragon to the fact that a thief was present and stealing from the horde. The light-gray figure did not know that the spell casting prowess of the large wyrm was great enough to allow the dragon to know the location of every piece of his treasure so long as it was within the horde room.

The ghostly figure looked once more at the ruby and smiled. “This will do nicely, indeed!” The figure was pleased with his choice. With determination he rapidly flew through the air to the entrance of the horde room. In a flash he disappeared down the long hallway which led to the dragon’s main chamber.

Inside the main chamber the dragon rose in fury as it detected the movement of the ruby. Its scaled body rapidly uncoiled from around his Provenience, spilling her backwards onto the floor. She had been relaxing upon him, enjoying the natural warmth rising from his scales. When the support was moved, she rolled onto her back. 

The Provenience thought to speak, but before she could bring the words to her lips the dragon bellowed loud enough to shake the items with the main chamber slightly. “There is a thief among my horde and he is coming this way!” The bellowing of the dragon echoed through the entire draconic lair. 

Although the mountain didn’t actually move, the Provenience was sure that the foundations shook under the dragon’s fury. Wisely, she moved to the corner of the room that offered no passageways away. The fury of the dragon would be fierce; and surely the dragon would enjoy using its breath to destroy whatever creature found itself confronting the dragon. Within the corner she chose she would have the best chance of avoiding being caught in the middle of the dragon’s wrath.

At the foot of the mountain, Semeion and the villagers heard the draconic bellowing. Semeion beamed with excitement as he began to improvise in his mind. Once he had a quick improvisational plan he spoke, his voice betraying his excitement. “Listen to me! The sign for our departure is coming quickly now. Continue to bow with your heads to the ground. Xando, can you begin us again in any chant that is about two minutes from the conclusion of the prayer?”

Xando did not respond, but his eyes darted wildly as he mentally sorted through the Morning Prayer rite. Finally the draconic words came to his mind and he began the chant again. “Now the sun has risen …” The entire village immediately picked up on the location within the Morning Prayer rite and joined him in song. Semeion began to chant as well, having learned the rite from the past few days of practice.

Back inside the dragon’s main chamber the wyrm turned his body around so that he was facing directly down the tunnel. The gray figure spotted the dragon first and realized that its presence had been detected earlier than it had expected. Using its ghostly abilities to its advantage, the figure charged up the tunnel at the dragon until it saw the beast inhale a large volume of air. As the dragon’s neck sprang forward and poured a tremendous volume of flame from out of its mouth, the gray figure floated off of the ground and rose to the top of the ceiling. He twisted out of the way of the dragon’s flames and soared over the effect of the breath.

Grixanthrosilithiss stopped his breath short as he noticed only too late that the figure had evaded his devastating fire. The dragon raised his head, attempting to block the passage with his massive and once more coiled neck. The gray figure did realize that the dragon would need a bit of time to recharge its fiery breath and now it would prefer to attack with wings and claws. The figure also spotted the opening that it needed.

With a mighty toss the ghostly figure threw the ruby down to the ground at the base of the dragon’s feet. The ruby hit the ground a skidded underneath the dragon and out from under the back of the beast. The ruby shot across the room after emerging from under where the dragon’s tail connected with the dragon’s body. 

This action caught the dragon off guard. The beast was helpless to stop the speeding ruby, but it knew that the figure was trapped in the tunnel. If it could finish off the intruder in the tunnel it could easily retrieve the ruby once the threat was over. Grixanthrosilithiss lunged with his mighty fangs and bit down hard in the direction of the gray figure.

Free from the material possession in the form of the ruby, the gray figure had planned for the dragon’s bite. As the beast’s jaws cut the air in front of him the ghostly figure simply flew into the rock beside him. The ghostly image was not held by the same physical boundaries that held the dragon. In an instant the gray figure emerged from the wall in the dragon’s main chamber where the tunnel to the horde room branched off. The figure rapidly floated over to where the precious stone lay and snatched the ruby from where it had come to rest upon the floor. The dragon’s head and neck were still within the confines of the tunnel.

Grixanthrosilithiss’ new Provenience shrieked as she saw the ghostly figure. The dragon heard the shriek and instinctively backed out of the tunnel. By the time the dragon was able to turn his body around the gray figure had already snatched up the ruby and floated from the main chamber onto the dragon’s perch. He had a good lead, but it would vanish quickly when the dragon took to the air. The ghost could float fast enough against humans and the like; but it had no chance of outpacing the dragon. The gray figure’s only chance was to hope to use its greater maneuverability until it could get to the forest. Once among the trees, its maneuverability would be a greater asset than the dragon’s great flying speed.

Semeion looked on from below as the villagers again drew near the end of the Morning Prayer vigil. He saw the gray figure emerge from the dragon’s perch and his heart leapt with excitement. It wouldn’t be long now.

No sooner had Semeion completed the thought than the large form of the red dragon broke into the sky in pursuit of the fleeing gray figure. The dragon howled in rage, drawing up more than a few glances from the villagers below. Semeion noticed that the villagers were on the verge of being distracted.

Speaking only loud enough to be barely heard over the chanting villagers Semeion added, “All is well, keep singing! We are almost there! Put your heads down!”

The villagers responded to Semeion’s urging out of fear. Their heads snapped to the ground and the chanting wavered a bit before becoming strong once again. Semeion continued to glance up, tracking the chase across the sky.

It was obvious the dragon possessed the greater speed. Only the sudden lurches of the gray figure kept the chase alive. Time and time again the dragon barely overshot the figure as the ghostly image dodged out of the way of the fangs, claws, and the occasional draconic breath. Slowly, the chase was descending to the ground according to the plan. Slowly, the chase was moving toward the east. The gray figure was luring the great wyrm away from the mountain where Ischarus and Charis waited.

After only a few minutes the chase was close enough to the ground that the treetops blocked the view of it from the village. Semeion leapt to his feet and began grabbing villagers by the shoulders and pulling them up to their feet. “Run!” Semeion shouted. “Follow Xando to your freedom. Do not return for anything. Flee with your lives!”

Xando sprang to his feet. For an instant he caught Semeion’s eyes and gave him a sympathetic look. Xando was grateful for this chance to lead his people to freedom. He also knew that for Semeion the greater challenge was still before him. As people rose to their feet and blocked Semeion from his view, he spoke a quick prayer. This prayer was not a prayer to his dragon father. Rather, this prayer was to an unknown god that he was sure had to exist beyond the confines of the known world. Once his prayer was complete the village leader turned and charged into the forest heading west.

Semeion ran to the secret entrance at the foot of the mountain. As he broke to the south and left the confines of the village behind him he heard Xando encouraging the people. “Keep running! Do not stop until the rock tunnels protect you!”
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Oct 27, 2006)

Semeion reached the hidden cave where Rhema should have been waiting for him.  However, when he arrived there he found that he was alone.  “Rhema?”  He called out softly at first.  He was used to having to be quiet in case the dragon should get curious about a noise that he heard.

After several panicked moments of being unable to find Rhema, he remembered that the dragon had been lured out of its lair and his volume began to increase.  As far as he knew, the Provenience wasn’t much to fear.  She should be the only threat remaining in the lair and her hearing would likely not be good enough to hear him calling at this distance.  

With this revelation, Semeion called out much more loudly.  “Rhema? Where are you?”  His voice echoed through the chamber and tunnel leading up the mountain.  For nearly a minute there was no reply.

Semeion moved further into the tunnel to take a closer look at the rough carved steps that lead up to the dragon’s main chamber.  There wasn’t any evidence that Rhema had passed over them and begun the day’s important task without him.  Then again, they were worn from centuries of foot traffic and they were stone after all.  Rhema wouldn’t have left much of a trace even if she had gone up them.  Making the situation even more complex was Semeion’s lack of training in the department of being able to track a person.  As Semeion focused on the steps, he heard a sound calling him back out of his thoughts. 

Rhema’s voice shot through the cave and into Semeion’s ears like a warm breeze on a cool autumn day.  “Semeion?  Semeion, what’s wrong?  Your voice is panicked!”

Semeion left the stairs deeper into the tunnel and returned to the cave entrance.  As he did, he heard the sounds of heavy breathing and some snorting.  Once his eyes had adjusted to the limited amount of light offered at the entrance of the cave he noticed that Rhema had brought Thana, Shauvry, and Abijou to the cave entrance with her.

When Rhema saw Semeion approaching, she smiled and spoke quickly.  “I thought the horses might be helpful.  Our time might well be limited and I’d rather not be caught on foot in the forest between the mountains leading to our freedom and the dragon’s lair.  Especially if we have yet another stolen Provenience with us.”

Semeion nodded and looked to the horses.  “Likely a wise precaution, I suppose.  Shall we?”  As he finished speaking, he gestured to the area where the stairs were located.

As Rhema slid off the back of Shauvry, Semeion took the reigns of the others and secured them just within the cave entrance.  Rhema continued to speak as they worked, “Ischarus was as surprised to see me as you seemed to be about not finding me here.  I decided to leave shortly after you left this morning.  You had gone a bit earlier than normal – no doubt wanting to make sure that everything went according to the schedule.  But after you left I reasoned that I had just enough time to walk the distance and return back with the horses before you would need me.”

Semeion teased, “Yeah.  And you came up just a minute short!”

Rhema smiled.  “True, but while the dragon was in sight I didn’t want to move rapidly and draw unwanted attention.  When I realized that I would likely not make it back in time to be concealed by the cave I decided to find a thick spot in the canopy and wait.  Once the dragon was lured far enough away so that I was sure it wouldn’t hear the horses, we moved again.  Had I not had to be cautious, I would have beaten you back here.”

Semeion replied and briefly hugged her, “Either way, well done and thought out.”  He motioned to the back of the cave.

Rhema nodded and moved with speed.  “I suppose we should.”

The two began to lightly jog up the stairs.  The wide stairs were a bit on the awkward side to climb because they had been carved in a spiral pattern large enough to allow the dragon to come down.  There was little doubt that the stairs would be a bit on the narrow side for the large draconic claws; but they were definitely wide for the typical human gate.  Even with a pace of jogging Semeion and Rhema found themselves putting two or three feet down for each step.  The winding, spiraling ascent seemed to take longer than they hoped that it would.

After more than a few moments of climbing, they could hear the faint sound of a mandolin playing in the distance.  They paused for a moment and listened.  The singing was well done, although it certainly seemed to come from a sense of nervousness.  The songs seemed to be of a calming nature, but the singer sounded as though she were stressed.

The pair paused for a moment and listened closely.  When they were sure that there wasn’t any other sound accompanying the mandolin and the singing voice Semeion and Rhema advanced forward again.  Within moments they were able to see the dragon’s main chamber ahead of them and they slowed their pace to a walk.  They stepped lightly so as to hopefully remain unheard over the playing of the mandolin.

Rhema approached the entrance first and saw the Provenience sitting alone on a simple straw mattress that had been provided by her dragon father for her comfort.  In truth, it was Darrok who had provided it, collecting the straw himself and offering it to the dragon father for his daughter’s convenience.  The dragon father readily accepted Darrok’s loving work and greedily took the credit as he brought it into his chamber for his Provenience.

The young woman sat on the straw mattress and played, her music suddenly slowing and softening.  Rhema and Semeion couldn’t make out the words.  For all they knew, the words could have been a simple song of gibberish made up as a child.  Of course, it could have been in a language that neither of them understood.  The pair entered a short way into the chamber as they took full advantage to the fact that the Provenience sat with her back to them.  She was facing the area of the dragon’s perch.

Semeion and Rhema gave each other a questioning glance regarding what the next step should be.  Both knew what needed to be done, but somehow this was not what they had anticipated as a beginning.  They had expected a challenge or a fight.  They had not figured on walking straight into the dragon’s main chamber unchallenged.  Of course, normally there was little reason for a great and powerful wyrm like Grixanthrosilithiss to need guards.  There were few that could challenge him directly, especially in his lair.

After a few moments of listening to the melody, Semeion spoke.  “Time to go, Provenience.”  His voice was strong and demanding.  As soon as the words left his mouth he realized how silly they sounded as an introductory comment.  But then again, Semeion was rather unsure exactly how one would begin a conversation explaining that they had broken into the dragon’s lair, lured Grixanthrosilithiss away, and planned on kidnapping her and forcing her away as well.  All this was done against her will, of course.

As she heard the words, the Provenience leapt off of the mattress in shock and spun around.  She gripped the mandolin tightly around its neck almost as if she were prepared to use it as a weapon if need be.  She stared in amazement as the two before her were not only complete strangers but not even Drakontos!  Her eyes locked in a gaze as her mind raced to try and understand the most unusual events of the morning.

Rhema smiled at the coldness of Semeion’s introductory words.  Under her breath so that the Provenience could not hear she added, “Now there’s a good way to say hello!”

For a second the air in the main chamber of the dragon’s lair seemed to stand completely still.  The Provenience appeared to stop breathing.  Rhema drew her lips together in anticipation of a strike against herself and Semeion.  Semeion’s hand subconsciously began to slowly creep to the hilt of his rapier before he realized what he was doing and stopped it.  At a time where wasting time could not be afforded it felt as though minutes slipped uncontrollably past.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Semeion reached the hidden cave where Rhema should have been waiting for him. However, when he arrived there he found that he was alone. “Rhema?” He called out softly at first. He was used to having to be quiet in case the dragon should get curious about a noise that he heard.

After several panicked moments of being unable to find Rhema, he remembered that the dragon had been lured out of its lair and his volume began to increase. As far as he knew, the Provenience wasn’t much to fear. She should be the only threat remaining in the lair and her hearing would likely not be good enough to hear him calling at this distance. 

With this revelation, Semeion called out much more loudly. “Rhema? Where are you?” His voice echoed through the chamber and tunnel leading up the mountain. For nearly a minute there was no reply.

Semeion moved further into the tunnel to take a closer look at the rough carved steps that lead up to the dragon’s main chamber. There wasn’t any evidence that Rhema had passed over them and begun the day’s important task without him. Then again, they were worn from centuries of foot traffic and they were stone after all. Rhema wouldn’t have left much of a trace even if she had gone up them. Making the situation even more complex was Semeion’s lack of training in the department of being able to track a person. As Semeion focused on the steps, he heard a sound calling him back out of his thoughts. 

Rhema’s voice shot through the cave and into Semeion’s ears like a warm breeze on a cool autumn day. “Semeion? Semeion, what’s wrong? Your voice is panicked!”

Semeion left the stairs deeper into the tunnel and returned to the cave entrance. As he did, he heard the sounds of heavy breathing and some snorting. Once his eyes had adjusted to the limited amount of light offered at the entrance of the cave he noticed that Rhema had brought Thana, Shauvry, and Abijou to the cave entrance with her.

When Rhema saw Semeion approaching, she smiled and spoke quickly. “I thought the horses might be helpful. Our time might well be limited and I’d rather not be caught on foot in the forest between the mountains leading to our freedom and the dragon’s lair. Especially if we have yet another stolen Provenience with us.”

Semeion nodded and looked to the horses. “Likely a wise precaution, I suppose. Shall we?” As he finished speaking, he gestured to the area where the stairs were located.

As Rhema slid off the back of Shauvry, Semeion took the reigns of the others and secured them just within the cave entrance. Rhema continued to speak as they worked, “Ischarus was as surprised to see me as you seemed to be about not finding me here. I decided to leave shortly after you left this morning. You had gone a bit earlier than normal – no doubt wanting to make sure that everything went according to the schedule. But after you left I reasoned that I had just enough time to walk the distance and return back with the horses before you would need me.”

Semeion teased, “Yeah. And you came up just a minute short!”

Rhema smiled. “True, but while the dragon was in sight I didn’t want to move rapidly and draw unwanted attention. When I realized that I would likely not make it back in time to be concealed by the cave I decided to find a thick spot in the canopy and wait. Once the dragon was lured far enough away so that I was sure it wouldn’t hear the horses, we moved again. Had I not had to be cautious, I would have beaten you back here.”

Semeion replied and briefly hugged her, “Either way, well done and thought out.” He motioned to the back of the cave.

Rhema nodded and moved with speed. “I suppose we should.”

The two began to lightly jog up the stairs. The wide stairs were a bit on the awkward side to climb because they had been carved in a spiral pattern large enough to allow the dragon to come down. There was little doubt that the stairs would be a bit on the narrow side for the large draconic claws; but they were definitely wide for the typical human gate. Even with a pace of jogging Semeion and Rhema found themselves putting two or three feet down for each step. The winding, spiraling ascent seemed to take longer than they hoped that it would.

After more than a few moments of climbing, they could hear the faint sound of a mandolin playing in the distance. They paused for a moment and listened. The singing was well done, although it certainly seemed to come from a sense of nervousness. The songs seemed to be of a calming nature, but the singer sounded as though she were stressed.

The pair paused for a moment and listened closely. When they were sure that there wasn’t any other sound accompanying the mandolin and the singing voice Semeion and Rhema advanced forward again. Within moments they were able to see the dragon’s main chamber ahead of them and they slowed their pace to a walk. They stepped lightly so as to hopefully remain unheard over the playing of the mandolin.

Rhema approached the entrance first and saw the Provenience sitting alone on a simple straw mattress that had been provided by her dragon father for her comfort. In truth, it was Darrok who had provided it, collecting the straw himself and offering it to the dragon father for his daughter’s convenience. The dragon father readily accepted Darrok’s loving work and greedily took the credit as he brought it into his chamber for his Provenience.

The young woman sat on the straw mattress and played, her music suddenly slowing and softening. Rhema and Semeion couldn’t make out the words. For all they knew, the words could have been a simple song of gibberish made up as a child. Of course, it could have been in a language that neither of them understood. The pair entered a short way into the chamber as they took full advantage to the fact that the Provenience sat with her back to them. She was facing the area of the dragon’s perch.

Semeion and Rhema gave each other a questioning glance regarding what the next step should be. Both knew what needed to be done, but somehow this was not what they had anticipated as a beginning. They had expected a challenge or a fight. They had not figured on walking straight into the dragon’s main chamber unchallenged. Of course, normally there was little reason for a great and powerful wyrm like Grixanthrosilithiss to need guards. There were few that could challenge him directly, especially in his lair.

After a few moments of listening to the melody, Semeion spoke. “Time to go, Provenience.” His voice was strong and demanding. As soon as the words left his mouth he realized how silly they sounded as an introductory comment. But then again, Semeion was rather unsure exactly how one would begin a conversation explaining that they had broken into the dragon’s lair, lured Grixanthrosilithiss away, and planned on kidnapping her and forcing her away as well. All this was done against her will, of course.

As she heard the words, the Provenience leapt off of the mattress in shock and spun around. She gripped the mandolin tightly around its neck almost as if she were prepared to use it as a weapon if need be. She stared in amazement as the two before her were not only complete strangers but not even Drakontos! Her eyes locked in a gaze as her mind raced to try and understand the most unusual events of the morning.

Rhema smiled at the coldness of Semeion’s introductory words. Under her breath so that the Provenience could not hear she added, “Now there’s a good way to say hello!”

For a second the air in the main chamber of the dragon’s lair seemed to stand completely still. The Provenience appeared to stop breathing. Rhema drew her lips together in anticipation of a strike against herself and Semeion. Semeion’s hand subconsciously began to slowly creep to the hilt of his rapier before he realized what he was doing and stopped it. At a time where wasting time could not be afforded it felt as though minutes slipped uncontrollably past.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Oct 29, 2006)

In truth, only a few seconds slipped by while the Provenience stared back at Semeion and Rhema.  Semeion watched as the expression upon the Provenience’s face turned from surprise to confusion to anger.  It was a change that he remembered all to well from the first meeting that he had with Charis.

A slow spiteful smile spread across the lips of the Provenience.  As Semeion and Rhema prepared for some type of heated parley, the Provenience narrowed her eyes.  In a sudden spurt of action the young woman before them sucked in a quick breath and immediately exhaled.  Flames spouted from her mouth, breathing a similar type of fire as one might have expected to come from the great red wyrm to which she had mated.

Both Semeion and Rhema sprang out of the way of the dangerous flames, limiting the damage caused to a few minor singes along their legs.  Semeion rolled over his shoulder and up onto his knees.  From that position he quickly rose to his feet and spoke, extending an open palm towards the Provenience.  “Listen to me!  We do not come here to kill you or even threaten you.  We came here to free you and reunite you with your true father.”

The Provenience laughed as Semeion spoke and Rhema brought herself up to her own feet.  “Reunite me with him?  I am to be the mother of the race that replaces them!”

Rhema sucked in a huge breath of her own as she began to get a feeling for the severity of brainwashing that the dragon father had been able to accomplish in the months that he had his Drakontos mate isolated in the chamber.  Without using any of her mental powers she spoke calmly.  “Listen to yourself.  Do you care nothing for those people?”

The Provenience saw what had happened in the brief moment that her attack had failed.  Rhema had jumped in a position such that to attack her would likely ignite her straw bed in fire.  Semeion had jumped far enough in the other direction so that to attack him would imply turning her back onto Rhema.  Rather than spew forth another lethal amount of flame the Provenience decided to speak.  “Care for them? she hissed as she reacted to Rhema’s words.  “Do you not see how they have offended my dragon father?  They do not care for him!  Why should we care for them?  Why should they live on when they so blatantly show disrespect to the one being that is powerful enough to protect them all from the forces in this world?”

Semeion took another step to his right, broadening the gap between himself and his associate.  “Protect them?  Is that what you call how the dragon father treats the people who live below?  Do you not see how he works them to the brink of death?”  Suddenly Semeion’s eyes glinted with an idea.

Rhema noticed the sparkle in Semeion’s eyes, but had no clue as to what the sparkle could have meant.  She decided to add to Semeion’s words and at the very least force the Provenience to turn and focus on Rhema for a short time.  “No master worth serving treats their vassals in such a manner!

The Provenience hissed her verbal venom back at the attacks against her dragon father.  “No master should respect anyone who treats their own father with the contempt that they have treated our dragon father!”

Semeion smiled.  “You mean like the contempt that you treat your own father?”

The Provenience was spurred into attack by the blatant verbal assault.  She sucked a deep breath in and exhaled.  This time, Semeion was waiting for it.  He tucked into a roll and easily avoided the flame in spite of the fact that the Provenience turned as she followed his movement.  Flames constantly licked at his heels, but he managed to stay one step ahead of her breath for as long as she had air to expend.  Her attack had allowed him to move to where he wanted to be without making it obvious.

Semeion took two steps back.  The Provenience instinctively stepped forward.  She felt as though Semeion was retreating out of the range of her breath.  What she assumed was weakness was actually part of Semeion’s plan.  He had positioned himself before the opening that led out onto the dragon’s perch.  As he crept backwards he could feel the cooler winds of this elevation swirling around him.  He was slowly leading her out onto the open platform on the side of the mountain.

Rhema still wasn’t sure what Semeion was up to, but she was smart enough to know that Semeion could only retreat so far.  He had to be up to something, but she wasn’t quite sure what it could be.  She could easily see that he had captivated her attention.  The Provenience had given Rhema her back, and Rhema had a clear shot should she need to take it.  But the agreement was that the Provenience wouldn’t need to be killed.  That couldn’t be the opening that Semeion was hoping to exploit.  In any case, Rhema was certain that the Provenience had forgotten that she was a part of this confrontation.

Semeion continued his slow retreat, occasionally shuffling slightly back to his left.  The Provenience matched his every move.  As Semeion continued his slow retreat he lured her into a slow pursuit.  The Provenience could see that he was quickly running out of room and she need not step forward quickly  He couldn’t stay out of range forever; and he was quickly narrowing his ability to dodge out of the way of her fiery breath.

Semeion shook his head. “Do you believe that the power to dominate is absolute power, Provenience?”

His mind darted back to several months prior.  He had the same conversation with Charis.  It was an important step in breaking her spirit.  It was a painful step to make, but it was the crux on which her deprogramming began.  The pain this line of questioning had caused Charis gave Semeion many restless nights in conversation with Rhema’s father.

The Provenience stopped moving.  She had stopped pursuing her prey to think for a moment.  “Power is being able to assert your will upon others.  Power is the ability to make the agenda, not have it dictated to you.”

Her answer was fair, especially for the preconceptions she brought to her understanding of the world.  It was what she knew; it was what the father dragon had taught the villagers through his leadership.  He smiled softly as he felt the pain of the response hit home.  Charis had responded so similarly once.

Semeion stepped slightly back, hoping to reinforce that she should pursue him.  The increasing howl of the wind told him that he was only a matter of a few feet from the edge now.  “Then control is the ultimate source of power for you?”

The Provenience matched his movement step for step.  She was now within striking distance, but she was not ready to strike.  He had intrigued her, and she would hear Semeion’s point.  “Get to your point, thief.  You know how I would respond.”

She didn’t see that Rhema had followed her out onto the ledge.  Rhema was careful to stay precisely at her back.  She stepped softly upon the worn stone of the dragon’s perch.  She was still trying to guess Semeion’s plan and knew Semeion was running out of both room and time.

Semeion smiled.  “If the ability to control is absolute, then I would assert that your father dragon is powerless.”

The Provenience’s eyes grew wide at the verbal assault.  “Silence your tongue!”  The Provenience’s skin began to take on a red hue as her blood coursed through her body in response to the emotion of anger.

Semeion only smiled more broadly.  He shuffled his feet back once more.  His heels felt the ground grow softer.  The edge was only inches away.  The wind howled at his back.  “You have put your faith in the wrong power, Provenience.  You serve a weak father.”

The Provenience paused for a moment.  “What is your game, irr’Drakontos Packkan?”  Semeion’s mind quickly translated the draconic insult.  It roughly translated to _‘non-Drakontos dog.’_

Semeion shuffled back the last few inches.  His heels now hung over the edge of the perch.  He could feel the wind directly at his back now.  The pressure to suck him down the mountain face increased.  Semeion spread his arms wide in a gesture of emptiness.  “Your dragon father’s kingdom is dust!”  A chuckle passed through his lips before he continued.  “If the power to control is absolute then the fact that your dragon father controls nothing means that he is powerless!”  His smile grew wide into a grand toothy grin as he continued to chuckle.

Rhema noticed that Semeion’s voice took on a uniquely strange tone.  He was enjoying this.  Semeion was toying with the Provenience.  He perched precariously at the brink of death without a single place to turn and he was tempting her to finish him.  She stepped forward once more.  This movement was more out of curiosity to discover Semeion’s game than to keep pace with the Provenience.

The Provenience had heard enough.  “I do not understand your game, but I have had enough of it!  Escape my wrath no more!”  She sucked down a deep breath.  As she did so, her eyes blinked shut for a split second.  Semeion’s glance darted to Rhema, whom he could see just over the Provenience’s shoulder.  His eyes seemed to be transferring the game to her.  He seemed to be giving her control, almost as if he was saying goodbye.

The Provenience exhaled.  Red and yellow flames burst forth out of her mouth.  The flame surged forward over the ledge where Semeion stood.  The flames burned for several seconds before the Provenience risked running out of breath.  When she stopped breathing the flames died down.  Semeion was no longer there.  He was nowhere on the dragon’s perch at all.

The Provenience surged to the lip of the perch to find Semeion.  As she moved, Rhema understood.  Semeion had lured her out her to the ledge for only one reason.  Semeion’s game was now hers to play.  “Look down upon the village, Provenience.”  Rhema’s voice was now full of her mental power geared towards mind control. She would take no chances now.  Semeion had sacrificed his life for this moment to occur.

Rhema’s voice gripped the Provenience hard and without thinking twice the Provenience looked upon the empty village.  “It’s … it’s … empty.”  Her voice faded into disbelief.

Rhema smiled as she felt the Provenience slip under her suggestive control.  “Empty indeed.  So what of your dragon father’s power now?  As Semeion said, if your dragon father cannot even control them and keep them to stay to do the work at hand, how powerful can he really be?”

The Provenience spun to face Rhema.  “No.  That cannot be.  But, how?”  Her hand reached up to rub over her mouth for a second.

Rhema mustered as friendly an expression as she could bring to her face.  She noticed the empty ledge behind the Provenience and her mind screamed at her to run for Semeion.  Yet this work was too important.  “We gave them freedom.  We allowed them to break free of control so that they could control their own actions from now on.”

The Provenience’s face went expressionless.  The words were foreign to her.  The concept was foreign to her.  “Nobody controls the villagers?”

Rhema smiled.  Semeion’s gamble had paid off.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
In truth, only a few seconds slipped by while the Provenience stared back at Semeion and Rhema. Semeion watched as the expression upon the Provenience’s face turned from surprise to confusion to anger. It was a change that he remembered all to well from the first meeting that he had with Charis.

A slow spiteful smile spread across the lips of the Provenience. As Semeion and Rhema prepared for some type of heated parley, the Provenience narrowed her eyes. In a sudden spurt of action the young woman before them sucked in a quick breath and immediately exhaled. Flames spouted from her mouth, breathing a similar type of fire as one might have expected to come from the great red wyrm to which she had mated.

Both Semeion and Rhema sprang out of the way of the dangerous flames, limiting the damage caused to a few minor singes along their legs. Semeion rolled over his shoulder and up onto his knees. From that position he quickly rose to his feet and spoke, extending an open palm towards the Provenience. “Listen to me! We do not come here to kill you or even threaten you. We came here to free you and reunite you with your true father.”

The Provenience laughed as Semeion spoke and Rhema brought herself up to her own feet. “Reunite me with him? I am to be the mother of the race that replaces them!”

Rhema sucked in a huge breath of her own as she began to get a feeling for the severity of brainwashing that the dragon father had been able to accomplish in the months that he had his Drakontos mate isolated in the chamber. Without using any of her mental powers she spoke calmly. “Listen to yourself. Do you care nothing for those people?”

The Provenience saw what had happened in the brief moment that her attack had failed. Rhema had jumped in a position such that to attack her would likely ignite her straw bed in fire. Semeion had jumped far enough in the other direction so that to attack him would imply turning her back onto Rhema. Rather than spew forth another lethal amount of flame the Provenience decided to speak. “Care for them? she hissed as she reacted to Rhema’s words. “Do you not see how they have offended my dragon father? They do not care for him! Why should we care for them? Why should they live on when they so blatantly show disrespect to the one being that is powerful enough to protect them all from the forces in this world?”

Semeion took another step to his right, broadening the gap between himself and his associate. “Protect them? Is that what you call how the dragon father treats the people who live below? Do you not see how he works them to the brink of death?” Suddenly Semeion’s eyes glinted with an idea.

Rhema noticed the sparkle in Semeion’s eyes, but had no clue as to what the sparkle could have meant. She decided to add to Semeion’s words and at the very least force the Provenience to turn and focus on Rhema for a short time. “No master worth serving treats their vassals in such a manner!

The Provenience hissed her verbal venom back at the attacks against her dragon father. “No master should respect anyone who treats their own father with the contempt that they have treated our dragon father!”

Semeion smiled. “You mean like the contempt that you treat your own father?”

The Provenience was spurred into attack by the blatant verbal assault. She sucked a deep breath in and exhaled. This time, Semeion was waiting for it. He tucked into a roll and easily avoided the flame in spite of the fact that the Provenience turned as she followed his movement. Flames constantly licked at his heels, but he managed to stay one step ahead of her breath for as long as she had air to expend. Her attack had allowed him to move to where he wanted to be without making it obvious.

Semeion took two steps back. The Provenience instinctively stepped forward. She felt as though Semeion was retreating out of the range of her breath. What she assumed was weakness was actually part of Semeion’s plan. He had positioned himself before the opening that led out onto the dragon’s perch. As he crept backwards he could feel the cooler winds of this elevation swirling around him. He was slowly leading her out onto the open platform on the side of the mountain.

Rhema still wasn’t sure what Semeion was up to, but she was smart enough to know that Semeion could only retreat so far. He had to be up to something, but she wasn’t quite sure what it could be. She could easily see that he had captivated her attention. The Provenience had given Rhema her back, and Rhema had a clear shot should she need to take it. But the agreement was that the Provenience wouldn’t need to be killed. That couldn’t be the opening that Semeion was hoping to exploit. In any case, Rhema was certain that the Provenience had forgotten that she was a part of this confrontation.

Semeion continued his slow retreat, occasionally shuffling slightly back to his left. The Provenience matched his every move. As Semeion continued his slow retreat he lured her into a slow pursuit. The Provenience could see that he was quickly running out of room and she need not step forward quickly He couldn’t stay out of range forever; and he was quickly narrowing his ability to dodge out of the way of her fiery breath.

Semeion shook his head. “Do you believe that the power to dominate is absolute power, Provenience?”

His mind darted back to several months prior. He had the same conversation with Charis. It was an important step in breaking her spirit. It was a painful step to make, but it was the crux on which her deprogramming began. The pain this line of questioning had caused Charis gave Semeion many restless nights in conversation with Rhema’s father.

The Provenience stopped moving. She had stopped pursuing her prey to think for a moment. “Power is being able to assert your will upon others. Power is the ability to make the agenda, not have it dictated to you.”

Her answer was fair, especially for the preconceptions she brought to her understanding of the world. It was what she knew; it was what the father dragon had taught the villagers through his leadership. He smiled softly as he felt the pain of the response hit home. Charis had responded so similarly once.

Semeion stepped slightly back, hoping to reinforce that she should pursue him. The increasing howl of the wind told him that he was only a matter of a few feet from the edge now. “Then control is the ultimate source of power for you?”

The Provenience matched his movement step for step. She was now within striking distance, but she was not ready to strike. He had intrigued her, and she would hear Semeion’s point. “Get to your point, thief. You know how I would respond.”

She didn’t see that Rhema had followed her out onto the ledge. Rhema was careful to stay precisely at her back. She stepped softly upon the worn stone of the dragon’s perch. She was still trying to guess Semeion’s plan and knew Semeion was running out of both room and time.

Semeion smiled. “If the ability to control is absolute, then I would assert that your father dragon is powerless.”

The Provenience’s eyes grew wide at the verbal assault. “Silence your tongue!” The Provenience’s skin began to take on a red hue as her blood coursed through her body in response to the emotion of anger.

Semeion only smiled more broadly. He shuffled his feet back once more. His heels felt the ground grow softer. The edge was only inches away. The wind howled at his back. “You have put your faith in the wrong power, Provenience. You serve a weak father.”

The Provenience paused for a moment. “What is your game, irr’Drakontos Packkan?” Semeion’s mind quickly translated the draconic insult. It roughly translated to ‘non-Drakontos dog.’

Semeion shuffled back the last few inches. His heels now hung over the edge of the perch. He could feel the wind directly at his back now. The pressure to suck him down the mountain face increased. Semeion spread his arms wide in a gesture of emptiness. “Your dragon father’s kingdom is dust!” A chuckle passed through his lips before he continued. “If the power to control is absolute then the fact that your dragon father controls nothing means that he is powerless!” His smile grew wide into a grand toothy grin as he continued to chuckle.

Rhema noticed that Semeion’s voice took on a uniquely strange tone. He was enjoying this. Semeion was toying with the Provenience. He perched precariously at the brink of death without a single place to turn and he was tempting her to finish him. She stepped forward once more. This movement was more out of curiosity to discover Semeion’s game than to keep pace with the Provenience.

The Provenience had heard enough. “I do not understand your game, but I have had enough of it! Escape my wrath no more!” She sucked down a deep breath. As she did so, her eyes blinked shut for a split second. Semeion’s glance darted to Rhema, whom he could see just over the Provenience’s shoulder. His eyes seemed to be transferring the game to her. He seemed to be giving her control, almost as if he was saying goodbye.

The Provenience exhaled. Red and yellow flames burst forth out of her mouth. The flame surged forward over the ledge where Semeion stood. The flames burned for several seconds before the Provenience risked running out of breath. When she stopped breathing the flames died down. Semeion was no longer there. He was nowhere on the dragon’s perch at all.

The Provenience surged to the lip of the perch to find Semeion. As she moved, Rhema understood. Semeion had lured her out her to the ledge for only one reason. Semeion’s game was now hers to play. “Look down upon the village, Provenience.” Rhema’s voice was now full of her mental power geared towards mind control. She would take no chances now. Semeion had sacrificed his life for this moment to occur.

Rhema’s voice gripped the Provenience hard and without thinking twice the Provenience looked upon the empty village. “It’s … it’s … empty.” Her voice faded into disbelief.

Rhema smiled as she felt the Provenience slip under her suggestive control. “Empty indeed. So what of your dragon father’s power now? As Semeion said, if your dragon father cannot even control them and keep them to stay to do the work at hand, how powerful can he really be?”

The Provenience spun to face Rhema. “No. That cannot be. But, how?” Her hand reached up to rub over her mouth for a second.

Rhema mustered as friendly an expression as she could bring to her face. She noticed the empty ledge behind the Provenience and her mind screamed at her to run for Semeion. Yet this work was too important. “We gave them freedom. We allowed them to break free of control so that they could control their own actions from now on.”

The Provenience’s face went expressionless. The words were foreign to her. The concept was foreign to her. “Nobody controls the villagers?”

Rhema smiled. Semeion’s gamble had paid off.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Oct 30, 2006)

Rhema looked deep into the Provenience’s eyes.  She knew that the father dragon’s mate was still under her suggestive control.  Of course, this also meant that she now bore the responsibility for using that gift properly.  The Provenience would need to be protected and brought to the supply cave before Rhema’s power wore off.  Time was of the utmost essence.

She continued the conversation.  “Nobody, Provenience.  They are acting under their free will.  They desired to leave the oppression of your dragon father.  They gathered up their supplies and left – on their own accord.  Your dragon father’s power of control over them is broken forever.”

The Provenience struggled to grasp this concept and her face disclosed this fact.  Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion and the pupils of her eyes focused upon Rhema as if she was trying to bore a hole through her skull.  “Then you control them now.  You are more powerful than my dragon father.”

Rhema smiled, her eyes once more darting to the ledge.  For an instant she looked as if she were about to cry when she thought about how important Semeion had been to the plan.  It had been his magic that had sprang Druff from the cage and allowed Druff to convince the townsfolk of their plan.  He had been the one to convince Druff to help in the first place.  Rhema’s eyes slowly returned to the Provenience’s glance.  “No.  We are not more powerful than your dragon father.  Should your dragon father return and find us here I would surely die and in all likelihood you would die with me.  Your dragon father is indeed more powerful than I.  Yet the idea of freedom is even more powerful than your dragon father.  Control is powerful, but freedom is even more so.”

Rhema stepped back toward the dragon’s main chamber.  The Provenience instinctively followed her back into the protected area of the lair.  “Wait!  You cannot leave me behind.  If you are more powerful than my dragon father I would follow you.”

Rhema turned her back to the Provenience and a slight smile passed across her lips.  “Gather up your things.  Only take that which you can sling over your shoulder or put in a sack.  We will ride out of here.  Anything you leave behind will most likely be destroyed by your dragon father’s rage.”

The Provenience nodded.  She quickly picked up her mandolin and slung it across her shoulders.  She grabbed a traveling cloak that was well tattered and worn.  She picked up a few other items of a much more personal matter: a mirror, a handcrafted comb, a skin for carrying water, and a blanket.  All but the mandolin she placed in the center of the blanket and then rolled the blanket such that the items could not fall out.

While the Provenience packed, Rhema took a moment and ran to the edge of the dragon’s perch.  She stood close to the edge and looked down.  The drop was severe for the first twenty or thirty feet, but there were a few trees growing up from below.  Leaves on the trees obscured her vision of the rock face below.  There was no way of telling what had happened to Semeion.  Obviously, he had planned on drawing the Provenience to the ledge so she could look down upon the empty village.  

Rhema’s eyes searched the rock below her for any clue as to what had happened.  As she searched, she talked to herself.  “His magic was not strong enough to handle teleportation,” she expressed out loud in an attempt to force herself to face reality and squash the painful amount of hope that clung to this mountain face.  “Either he burned and fell or he just fell.  In any case, he’s gone now.”  A small tear trickled down her face.

Rhema’s mourning was interrupted by the Provenience’s voice from behind.  “I am ready to follow you to this thing you call freedom.”  Her voice was cold and detached.

When Rhema turned she saw that the Provenience was standing with her own eyes focused upon the ledge.  Rhema knew that the Provenience was still under her telepathic persuasion and thus susceptible to her own mental state.  “I am sorry that I killed him.  At the time he was an intruder.  He was goading me into attack.”

Rhema crossed the dragon’s perch and smiled coolly in her direction.  She fought back the anger boiling inside at the loss of one of her friends and refused to let it cloud the urgency of thought needed to get them to safety.  “We must go now.  We can talk along the way.”

Rhema lifted the blanket roll up from the straw mattress and waited for the Provenience to follow.  The Provenience began to object to Rhema carrying her blanket, but Rhema shook her head and said, “This is what life is like free from control, Provenience.  I do not help you because you order me to or because you have the power to kill me.  I choose to help you.”  Her words were laced with the bitterness still coming from the loss of Semeion.

The Provenience heard the sharp edge in her voice and re-coiled a step.  “I did not understand that you were so powerful.  I thought only my own dragon father was that powerful.  I was blinded by my dragon father’s claims of dominance and his grand plans.”  She was still attempting to provide an explanation for her actions.

Rhema smiled.  The Provenience’s words came so easily on account of the control Rhema still exercised over the Provenience.  “Yes, and unless we hurry you will soon be under that control again.  Semeion allowed you to kill him so that you could be saved by seeing that your dragon father had lost control.  That must be enough for now.”

Rhema moved to the tunnel that led to the secret cave below.  She descended the stairs as quickly as she and Semeion had ascended them.  The Provenience followed her pace for pace.  Before too long, they had reached the spot where the three horses had remained tied.  

Rhema quickly approached Shauvry and secured the Provenience’s blanket roll to Shauvry’s saddle.  Once that task was completed Rhema turned and pointed to Elistra.  There were tears streaming down her face now.  Seeing Thana had brought the emotion of loss and anger irrevocably to the surface.

Pointing to Elistra, Rhema spoke sharply through her pain.  “Ride the bigger horse.  My friend’s horse will return to safety without a rider upon its back.”

The Provenience nodded, knowing that there was little that she could do about the pain now.  She was not aware of the fact that Rhema still had a telepathic bond to her, but through this bond she was able to feel a sense of Rhema’s pain.  Her face frowned as she realized that the pain had been brought onto Rhema by her own hand.  Under her breath she muttered, “I was only defending my home and my life as I saw it.”

Rhema backed Shauvry up and turned the horse around inside the cave.  She loosened the reigns holding Thana in place and held her in a position to follow.  She looked at the Provenience sitting atop Ischarus’ horse.  “Ride beside me, Provenience.  The path will be wide enough for us to ride together.”

The Provenience nodded and pulled in line.  Rhema spurred Shauvry into action with Thana in tow.  Elistra quickly followed out of instinct.  Together they left the now abandoned draconic lair behind them.  The dragon hadn’t been yet defeated; but the village had been liberated.  It was their biggest success yet.  With regard to Semeion it was also their greatest failure as well.

Rhema cursed Semeion under his breath.  The pain festered inside of her with each surge of the horse beneath her.  After all, it didn’t need to happen that way.  The Provenience could have been subdued without the loss of life.  It might have taken longer, but it could have worked.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Rhema looked deep into the Provenience’s eyes. She knew that the father dragon’s mate was still under her suggestive control. Of course, this also meant that she now bore the responsibility for using that gift properly. The Provenience would need to be protected and brought to the supply cave before Rhema’s power wore off. Time was of the utmost essence.

She continued the conversation. “Nobody, Provenience. They are acting under their free will. They desired to leave the oppression of your dragon father. They gathered up their supplies and left – on their own accord. Your dragon father’s power of control over them is broken forever.”

The Provenience struggled to grasp this concept and her face disclosed this fact. Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion and the pupils of her eyes focused upon Rhema as if she was trying to bore a hole through her skull. “Then you control them now. You are more powerful than my dragon father.”

Rhema smiled, her eyes once more darting to the ledge. For an instant she looked as if she were about to cry when she thought about how important Semeion had been to the plan. It had been his magic that had sprang Druff from the cage and allowed Druff to convince the townsfolk of their plan. He had been the one to convince Druff to help in the first place. Rhema’s eyes slowly returned to the Provenience’s glance. “No. We are not more powerful than your dragon father. Should your dragon father return and find us here I would surely die and in all likelihood you would die with me. Your dragon father is indeed more powerful than I. Yet the idea of freedom is even more powerful than your dragon father. Control is powerful, but freedom is even more so.”

Rhema stepped back toward the dragon’s main chamber. The Provenience instinctively followed her back into the protected area of the lair. “Wait! You cannot leave me behind. If you are more powerful than my dragon father I would follow you.”

Rhema turned her back to the Provenience and a slight smile passed across her lips. “Gather up your things. Only take that which you can sling over your shoulder or put in a sack. We will ride out of here. Anything you leave behind will most likely be destroyed by your dragon father’s rage.”

The Provenience nodded. She quickly picked up her mandolin and slung it across her shoulders. She grabbed a traveling cloak that was well tattered and worn. She picked up a few other items of a much more personal matter: a mirror, a handcrafted comb, a skin for carrying water, and a blanket. All but the mandolin she placed in the center of the blanket and then rolled the blanket such that the items could not fall out.

While the Provenience packed, Rhema took a moment and ran to the edge of the dragon’s perch. She stood close to the edge and looked down. The drop was severe for the first twenty or thirty feet, but there were a few trees growing up from below. Leaves on the trees obscured her vision of the rock face below. There was no way of telling what had happened to Semeion. Obviously, he had planned on drawing the Provenience to the ledge so she could look down upon the empty village. 

Rhema’s eyes searched the rock below her for any clue as to what had happened. As she searched, she talked to herself. “His magic was not strong enough to handle teleportation,” she expressed out loud in an attempt to force herself to face reality and squash the painful amount of hope that clung to this mountain face. “Either he burned and fell or he just fell. In any case, he’s gone now.” A small tear trickled down her face.

Rhema’s mourning was interrupted by the Provenience’s voice from behind. “I am ready to follow you to this thing you call freedom.” Her voice was cold and detached.

When Rhema turned she saw that the Provenience was standing with her own eyes focused upon the ledge. Rhema knew that the Provenience was still under her telepathic persuasion and thus susceptible to her own mental state. “I am sorry that I killed him. At the time he was an intruder. He was goading me into attack.”

Rhema crossed the dragon’s perch and smiled coolly in her direction. She fought back the anger boiling inside at the loss of one of her friends and refused to let it cloud the urgency of thought needed to get them to safety. “We must go now. We can talk along the way.”

Rhema lifted the blanket roll up from the straw mattress and waited for the Provenience to follow. The Provenience began to object to Rhema carrying her blanket, but Rhema shook her head and said, “This is what life is like free from control, Provenience. I do not help you because you order me to or because you have the power to kill me. I choose to help you.” Her words were laced with the bitterness still coming from the loss of Semeion.

The Provenience heard the sharp edge in her voice and re-coiled a step. “I did not understand that you were so powerful. I thought only my own dragon father was that powerful. I was blinded by my dragon father’s claims of dominance and his grand plans.” She was still attempting to provide an explanation for her actions.

Rhema smiled. The Provenience’s words came so easily on account of the control Rhema still exercised over the Provenience. “Yes, and unless we hurry you will soon be under that control again. Semeion allowed you to kill him so that you could be saved by seeing that your dragon father had lost control. That must be enough for now.”

Rhema moved to the tunnel that led to the secret cave below. She descended the stairs as quickly as she and Semeion had ascended them. The Provenience followed her pace for pace. Before too long, they had reached the spot where the three horses had remained tied. 

Rhema quickly approached Shauvry and secured the Provenience’s blanket roll to Shauvry’s saddle. Once that task was completed Rhema turned and pointed to Elistra. There were tears streaming down her face now. Seeing Thana had brought the emotion of loss and anger irrevocably to the surface.

Pointing to Elistra, Rhema spoke sharply through her pain. “Ride the bigger horse. My friend’s horse will return to safety without a rider upon its back.”

The Provenience nodded, knowing that there was little that she could do about the pain now. She was not aware of the fact that Rhema still had a telepathic bond to her, but through this bond she was able to feel a sense of Rhema’s pain. Her face frowned as she realized that the pain had been brought onto Rhema by her own hand. Under her breath she muttered, “I was only defending my home and my life as I saw it.”

Rhema backed Shauvry up and turned the horse around inside the cave. She loosened the reigns holding Thana in place and held her in a position to follow. She looked at the Provenience sitting atop Ischarus’ horse. “Ride beside me, Provenience. The path will be wide enough for us to ride together.”

The Provenience nodded and pulled in line. Rhema spurred Shauvry into action with Thana in tow. Elistra quickly followed out of instinct. Together they left the now abandoned draconic lair behind them. The dragon hadn’t been yet defeated; but the village had been liberated. It was their biggest success yet. With regard to Semeion it was also their greatest failure as well.

Rhema cursed Semeion under his breath. The pain festered inside of her with each surge of the horse beneath her. After all, it didn’t need to happen that way. The Provenience could have been subdued without the loss of life. It might have taken longer, but it could have worked.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Nov 4, 2006)

While Semeion and Rhema had climbed the stairs to enter the dragon’s main chamber, the exodus from the village was already into motion.  Few retrieved anything out of their dwellings knowing that there was little they would need beyond what they already carried.  They would be waiting for some time under the mountains for the dragon’s wrath to burn itself out, anyway.  The main priority was to get the caves.  They had trusted Charis and her friends thus far; it only made sense to think that they would trust them for future protection.

Over the past few days Semeion had written out a few copies of the spell that he had earlier used to give Druff a bit of free time out from the cage in the confines of the planning session.  Once Semeion had begun shouting for the villagers to run, inside his cage Druff quickly unrolled one of the parchments.  He wasn’t a natural arcanist, but his innate magical abilities did allow him the capacity to somewhat understand the process of how magic happened.  He couldn’t read the arcane writing, but he reached back into his mind to hearing the words that Semeion had spoken to him earlier.  Not only had Semeion used the words on the day that he had given him free time, but Semeion had also taught him the words when the young mage delivered the parchments to Druff.

Druff looked at the black ink on the parchment before him.  He could make out the two arcane words easily enough.  In truth he couldn’t read the words, but he could tell that there were two words present.  The gap between the letters was a clear enough indication.  Druff spoke the words from memory.  “Soo-ah Skree-tahk” 

The words on the parchment before him began to glow with a magical green aura.  The paper began to hiss, almost as it the parchment contained the sap of a tree that was being boiled out by an open flame.  The parchment warmed after only a few seconds and then erupted in an explosion.  Druff looked down where the parchment had once rested upon the floor of cage.  There was a small black outline revealing the location of the parchment.  His body and clothing were dusted with a thin layer of black powder.

Xando approached the cage as the rest of the villagers began to amass at the edge of the woods.  He had initially run to the woods to inspire the villagers to move forward.  Once they were in motion he had circled back to pick up Druff.  “Please tell me that was not your only copy, Druff.”  Xando’s face demonstrated that he was amused by the reaction of the parchment yet concerned about Druff’s inability to be an effective master of the arcane inscription.

Druff returned Xando’s expression with a smile of his own.  “Thankfully, no.  Semeion gave me several copies.  He assumed that it would take me more than a single try to get the arcane words correct.”

Xando looked into the cage, careful not to get too close in case another parchment reacted to Druff’s command in a similar manner as the first.  Two other men flanked him and looked inside patiently.  Xando slightly lifted his right hand from his side, holding their position beside him.  Xando continued the conversation between himself and Druff.  “I did not think you were able to master the arcane magic of our dragon father.”

Druff replied honestly, “I cannot.  In fact, this is not my arcane power that I am trying to master.  Instead, this is Semeion’s latent magical expression that I am trying to harness.  That is part of the difficulty.  I must harness Semeion’s energy and control it.  Obviously I did not do that quite so well on the last attempt.”  Druff smiled once more.

Xando returned to smile.  “Obviously,” he added.

Druff had another parchment before him and he was ready to try again.  Xando and the men beside him stepped back to allow Druff the opportunity while not enabling themselves to be caught in the effect of any possible magical backlash.  “Su-ah Skrie-tok.”

This time Druff smiled, realizing he had spoken the words exactly as Semeion had told him.  As happened the last time, the words glowed with a green magical aura.  However, the sound of the boiling sap was not present within this parchment.  Instead the words glowed with an increasing intensity for a few seconds before bursting into radiant light directed upon Druff.  

For an instant Druff was enraptured in a thin veil of the green light.  His body reduced to a fraction of his normal height and weight.  When he opened his eyes he could see that the spell had worked.  He bent over to pick up the piece of parchment, but Xando approached the cage and addressed him.  “Let me, Druff.  You get yourself out of the cage while the spell still holds.  These two men have volunteered to carry you to the mountains.  We’ll make better time with them carrying your burden for you than if you traverse the ground yourself.”

Druff was not pleased at the thought of depending upon the villagers and his face showed it.  However, he could not refuse to acknowledge the wisdom of Xando’s words, either.  With a quick sigh and a nod to the men Druff slipped out of the cage.  The smaller of the men stepped forward and offered his back.  Druff sat down upon the edge of the cage and wrapped his small arms around the villager’s neck.  At his reduced size, the grip was difficult to maintain.  However, this would allow the villager to carry Druff in the easiest manner.  Once he grew back in size this position would be easier to maintain.

The smaller villager spoke as Druff climbed upon his back.  “I’ve got charge of you until you gain back your old size.  Then I get to hand you off.”

Druff smiled.  The other villager was taller and by default a bit stronger.  Their plan was simple but effective.  “Ready when you are.”  His assertion was to nobody in particular and perhaps not even necessary.

Xando gathered up the parchment that Druff had successfully used to cast the spell.  Before he rolled it into a tube he noticed that the parchment was now blank.  He nodded a few times and stuck out his lower lip in thought.  Turning around and hearing Druff speak, he further added, “Let’s go, men.  We’ve got a decent journey and not much time to make it in.”

They nodded in reply and Xando walked briskly to the edge of the woods where the villagers were gathering.  He called out loudly to the villagers as he approached.  “Gather by family for a count!”

The villagers immediately responded to Xando’s command.  There would be no time for a search should anyone go missing.  The count would only take a minute but save them from hours of worrying later on.  Xando pointed to one side of the people and the villager who had been designated to carry Druff once his size returned headed off to count from that end.  Xando began the count from his own end.

The two counters met about halfway and exchanged totals.  Xando smiled when he realized that the total was correct.  He stepped through the crowd of people and into the forest behind.  As he moved, he spoke one last command to the people.  “We travel in silence from here on out.  We don’t know how long our dragon father will be captivated by our friends.  If we move quietly we will not only move more quickly but we’ll also help avoid detection.  I know the way, so you will follow me.  Erik and Degrahss will carry Druff at the back of the caravan.”

Xando didn’t wait for a reply.  He didn’t expect one to come.  The villagers were prepared to follow his orders – even the children.  They would not speak again until they had reached the safety of the caves.  Of course, that assumed they even got that far.  Regardless of their success or failure they were indeed long gone before Semeion was forced from the dragon perch above.  There was nobody left on the ground below to witness his sacrifice for the sake of the Provenience.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
While Semeion and Rhema had climbed the stairs to enter the dragon’s main chamber, the exodus from the village was already into motion. Few retrieved anything out of their dwellings knowing that there was little they would need beyond what they already carried. They would be waiting for some time under the mountains for the dragon’s wrath to burn itself out, anyway. The main priority was to get the caves. They had trusted Charis and her friends thus far; it only made sense to think that they would trust them for future protection.

Over the past few days Semeion had written out a few copies of the spell that he had earlier used to give Druff a bit of free time out from the cage in the confines of the planning session. Once Semeion had begun shouting for the villagers to run, inside his cage Druff quickly unrolled one of the parchments. He wasn’t a natural arcanist, but his innate magical abilities did allow him the capacity to somewhat understand the process of how magic happened. He couldn’t read the arcane writing, but he reached back into his mind to hearing the words that Semeion had spoken to him earlier. Not only had Semeion used the words on the day that he had given him free time, but Semeion had also taught him the words when the young mage delivered the parchments to Druff.

Druff looked at the black ink on the parchment before him. He could make out the two arcane words easily enough. In truth he couldn’t read the words, but he could tell that there were two words present. The gap between the letters was a clear enough indication. Druff spoke the words from memory. “Soo-ah Skree-tahk” 

The words on the parchment before him began to glow with a magical green aura. The paper began to hiss, almost as it the parchment contained the sap of a tree that was being boiled out by an open flame. The parchment warmed after only a few seconds and then erupted in an explosion. Druff looked down where the parchment had once rested upon the floor of cage. There was a small black outline revealing the location of the parchment. His body and clothing were dusted with a thin layer of black powder.

Xando approached the cage as the rest of the villagers began to amass at the edge of the woods. He had initially run to the woods to inspire the villagers to move forward. Once they were in motion he had circled back to pick up Druff. “Please tell me that was not your only copy, Druff.” Xando’s face demonstrated that he was amused by the reaction of the parchment yet concerned about Druff’s inability to be an effective master of the arcane inscription.

Druff returned Xando’s expression with a smile of his own. “Thankfully, no. Semeion gave me several copies. He assumed that it would take me more than a single try to get the arcane words correct.”

Xando looked into the cage, careful not to get too close in case another parchment reacted to Druff’s command in a similar manner as the first. Two other men flanked him and looked inside patiently. Xando slightly lifted his right hand from his side, holding their position beside him. Xando continued the conversation between himself and Druff. “I did not think you were able to master the arcane magic of our dragon father.”

Druff replied honestly, “I cannot. In fact, this is not my arcane power that I am trying to master. Instead, this is Semeion’s latent magical expression that I am trying to harness. That is part of the difficulty. I must harness Semeion’s energy and control it. Obviously I did not do that quite so well on the last attempt.” Druff smiled once more.

Xando returned to smile. “Obviously,” he added.

Druff had another parchment before him and he was ready to try again. Xando and the men beside him stepped back to allow Druff the opportunity while not enabling themselves to be caught in the effect of any possible magical backlash. “Su-ah Skrie-tok.”

This time Druff smiled, realizing he had spoken the words exactly as Semeion had told him. As happened the last time, the words glowed with a green magical aura. However, the sound of the boiling sap was not present within this parchment. Instead the words glowed with an increasing intensity for a few seconds before bursting into radiant light directed upon Druff. 

For an instant Druff was enraptured in a thin veil of the green light. His body reduced to a fraction of his normal height and weight. When he opened his eyes he could see that the spell had worked. He bent over to pick up the piece of parchment, but Xando approached the cage and addressed him. “Let me, Druff. You get yourself out of the cage while the spell still holds. These two men have volunteered to carry you to the mountains. We’ll make better time with them carrying your burden for you than if you traverse the ground yourself.”

Druff was not pleased at the thought of depending upon the villagers and his face showed it. However, he could not refuse to acknowledge the wisdom of Xando’s words, either. With a quick sigh and a nod to the men Druff slipped out of the cage. The smaller of the men stepped forward and offered his back. Druff sat down upon the edge of the cage and wrapped his small arms around the villager’s neck. At his reduced size, the grip was difficult to maintain. However, this would allow the villager to carry Druff in the easiest manner. Once he grew back in size this position would be easier to maintain.

The smaller villager spoke as Druff climbed upon his back. “I’ve got charge of you until you gain back your old size. Then I get to hand you off.”

Druff smiled. The other villager was taller and by default a bit stronger. Their plan was simple but effective. “Ready when you are.” His assertion was to nobody in particular and perhaps not even necessary.

Xando gathered up the parchment that Druff had successfully used to cast the spell. Before he rolled it into a tube he noticed that the parchment was now blank. He nodded a few times and stuck out his lower lip in thought. Turning around and hearing Druff speak, he further added, “Let’s go, men. We’ve got a decent journey and not much time to make it in.”

They nodded in reply and Xando walked briskly to the edge of the woods where the villagers were gathering. He called out loudly to the villagers as he approached. “Gather by family for a count!”

The villagers immediately responded to Xando’s command. There would be no time for a search should anyone go missing. The count would only take a minute but save them from hours of worrying later on. Xando pointed to one side of the people and the villager who had been designated to carry Druff once his size returned headed off to count from that end. Xando began the count from his own end.

The two counters met about halfway and exchanged totals. Xando smiled when he realized that the total was correct. He stepped through the crowd of people and into the forest behind. As he moved, he spoke one last command to the people. “We travel in silence from here on out. We don’t know how long our dragon father will be captivated by our friends. If we move quietly we will not only move more quickly but we’ll also help avoid detection. I know the way, so you will follow me. Erik and Degrahss will carry Druff at the back of the caravan.”

Xando didn’t wait for a reply. He didn’t expect one to come. The villagers were prepared to follow his orders – even the children. They would not speak again until they had reached the safety of the caves. Of course, that assumed they even got that far. Regardless of their success or failure they were indeed long gone before Semeion was forced from the dragon perch above. There was nobody left on the ground below to witness his sacrifice for the sake of the Provenience.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Nov 7, 2006)

While the exodus was occurring and while Rhema and Semeion were climbing the long steps up to the dragon’s lair, the light-gray figure clutched the large ruby as he slowly descended to the ground and the forest that would protect him.  The red wyrm had already made several passes at the figure, but each of them missed by narrow margins.  There could be no doubt that the dragon had a greater speed, but the light-gray figure possessed a sleek sense of timing that had served him well thus far.

The light-gray figure slowed his approach to the treetops to allow the dragon one great pass before immersing himself into the cover.  Grixanthrosilithiss saw his opportunity present itself and as he made a final turn he leveled off just above the tallest leaves of the forest.  The wyrm flew in fast and hard, its leathery wings beating hard against the air.  As he flew over the trees the thin branches at the top of the trees surged upward behind him as the breeze from his quick passing pulled them into the near vacuum that followed his presence.

The dragon knew that the light-gray figure would not make the tree line before it could be intercepted.  Grixanthrosilithiss was no slouch in regards to the presence of the ghost, either.  Time and time again the dragon had snapped at the ghost’s body with his magical fangs but grasped towards the gemstone with its claws as it sailed by.  This approach would be no different.  In preparation for the attack the dragon parted his lips on approach and viciously snapped its jaws together in a mock bite of intimidation.

The large dragon surged forward.  At the last moment, the light-gray figure surged straight upward and above the dragon.  Grixanthrosilithiss had not anticipated this maneuver.  His fangs narrowly missed the ghostly figure’s feet.  The wyrm thought about rolling over to allow him to attack upward with his claws.  Yet the beast also knew that to do so would risk crashing into the treetops.  The natural aerodynamics that lifted him into the air would only serve to assist gravity and pull him into the trees should he roll over this close to the foliage.  Grixanthrosilithiss roared in anger as he sailed harmlessly past his stolen gemstone.  The beast curved his neck in order to look behind him and watched the ghostly figure descend into the forest unharmed.

Once the figure knew the dragon could not interfere, he relinquished his ability to hold onto the stone with a smile upon his face.  It was time to allow gravity to work.  Without releasing his fingers, the dark ruby fell unhindered from his grasp and down into the forest canopy.  Now that the ghostly figure was no longer bound by physical laws, the ghost was able to follow the stone easily through the maze of branches toward the ground.  While the gemstone ricocheted off of countless branches the ghost merely passed through them until he reached the ground.  Once the gemstone had come to rest upon the soft ground below the trees the light-gray figure reconstituted his ability to grasp the stone and he bent down to pick it up.

By this time the dragon had managed to loop around and come to a hovering position where he had seen the gemstone disappear.  Grixanthrosilithiss sucked in a large breath of air and prepared to usher forth a great display of his most impressive draconic ability.  As he exhaled, a torrent of orange, red, and blue flame poured forth from within his throat.  The intensity of the flame singed the leaves on the trees below, although there was enough live wood in the way to prevent the flames from endangering the light-gray figure standing upon the ground below.  The trees were in little danger of catching fire; the dragon’s breath wouldn’t last long enough to ignite the still growing wood.  The burning of the leaves provided the dragon with the ability to see to the forest floor below him.  For a split second he locked eyes with the ghostly figure that had stolen his gemstone.

Rage continued to build up within the dragon at each successful attempt in which the light-gray figure eluded his draconic grasp.  The dragon decided that the branches in the area could not resist his heavy weight.  His claws spread out and his wings opened to smooth his decent.  Slowly he began to fall into the trees, branches bending, groaning, and then eventually snapping as they slowly bore the burden of his great weight.  The gray figure below saw the dragon’s tactics and smiled.  Once the dragon was on the ground the density of the tree growth would limit his effectiveness in combat.

The ghostly figure grasped the stone solidly and began to move off further to the east.  The chase hadn’t lasted near long enough.  By this time the village had enough time to be vacated and the villagers would be well on their way; but Semeion and Rhema should have only reached the dragon’s lair on foot by this point.  He would need to lead the dragon deep into the thickest parts of the forest.  That strategy would prevent the dragon from surging upward out of the forest as soon as the inevitable happened and the dragon caught up to the ghostly figure.  Grixanthrosilithiss would have to backtrack on the ground to come to a place where the foliage could be broken through.

The ground thundered below Grixanthrosilithiss once he finally crashed to the ground.  The ghostly figure did not feel the vibration as much as he noticed his surroundings shimmer slightly before his eyes.  He didn’t need to turn around to sense the dragon’s fangs surge through the empty air behind him.  The heat from the dragon’s normal breath was easily enough of a clue for him to realize that the pursuit was close behind.

Grixanthrosilithiss slide his long neck between the trees and snapped at the retreating figure.  Once again the gemstone was just out of reach, his neck fell a matter of feet short once it was fully extended.  The light-gray figure gained a few seconds advantage while Grixanthrosilithiss had to recoil his neck and find a path through the trees that his large body could follow.  In the end, the great wyrm decided that it was simply easier to stand on his back feet and use his weight and front claws to topple the smaller trees than it was to find a path.  It was slower, but it would get the job done and make it easier to fight once the battle was joined.

The light-gray figure smiled as he heard the trees snapping behind him.  The reality was that with the trees snapping the dragon would likely not have a clear path to take to the sky once he was caught.  It would be even more important that he kept the chase going as long as possible.

A short stone outcropping which rose up from the forest floor stood just ahead of the light-gray figure.  The figure knew that Grixanthrosilithiss’s great strength was allowing him to gain from behind and this stone outcropping might provide him with the minute or two delay that he desired.  The figure turned around to face his pursuer.  Timing would be greatly important.  The ghostly image looked up once more to judge the distance of the rock ledge above.  When he returned his gaze back to the dragon he could see that Grixanthrosilithiss had slowed his approach.  The dragon could sense that the figure was pinned between the dragon and the rock wall.  

The wyrm began to chuckle.  Grixanthrosilithiss looked as though he thought about talking and reminding the ghostly figure that the situation was hopeless; but at the last moment the dragon’s neck shot forward without having issued forth a word.  The beast’s fangs snapped apart, spraying spittle across many of the trees in the area.  The figure looked for only a fraction of a second into the dragon’s throat.

In a flash of motion, the ghostly figure tossed the dark red ruby up into the air once he was sure that the dragon’s jaws were open far enough to obscure the movement from his vision.  As the stone flew into the air, the figure closed his eyes and stepped backwards into the rock behind him.  Less than a second later the dragon’s jaws collided solidly with the rock outcropping.  Grixanthrosilithiss roared again in rage as the figure eluded his grasp once more.

It didn’t take the wyrm long to understand what the ghostly figure had done to outsmart him.  The part that took the most time was figuring out how to overcome the obstacle.  The rock stretched far to both the left and the right.  The dragon could easily go over, but the beast would need to clear several trees before there would be a hole large enough to jump upward.  Even so, this seemed like the quickest option.  Grixanthrosilithiss turned around as best as he could and began to wildly use his weight to knock down trees.  It took the better part of a minute, but the wyrm eventually cleared a large enough hole to spread his wings and spring upward in a jump.

In a single bound Grixanthrosilithiss was able to leap onto the top of the rock.  The gemstone wasn’t on top of the rock.  Then again, Grixanthrosilithiss hadn’t expected it to be there.  The dragon lowered its head to peer through the woods on the other side of the rock and could see the stone in quick retreat away from his position.  The dragon smiled grimly as it realized that the chase was on once more.  Grixanthrosilithiss roared and breathed forth a cone of fire in the direction he planned to go.  The heat of the fire singed the smaller branched and shriveled the leaves, making the trees easier to knock down.  After knocking a few trees to the ground from the top of the rock face Grixanthrosilithiss was able to jump down to the ground and continue the pursuit.

In spite of the best efforts to flee, the light-gray figure knew that he could not run forever.  Instead, the figure determined that the rock face held his best chance for success.  Slowly and surely the light-gray figure led the great wyrm in a circle and once again found himself approaching the rock face from a new direction.  The dragon was closing once more.  The figure had kept him busy long enough.  It had been over an hour now.  It was time to give up the chase.  The task should have been accomplished.

As the figure approached the rock it released its grip upon the dark red ruby.  The gemstone clanked solidly against the rock and fell to the bottom of the rock face.  The figure vanished safely as it passed into the rock surface.  Grixanthrosilithiss roared once more in fury as it realized that it would not have the opportunity of beating the thief who had tried to steal from his horde.  Still, he had been gone from his horde long enough.  The dragon roared once more and expelled another breath of fire in order to mark the forest.  Rather than retreating to the place that it had originally descended to the forest floor, Grixanthrosilithiss spent a few seconds knocking over a few more trees.   In this way the beast give itself room to run a few steps before surging upward into the sky.

Once it had taken the gemstone and launched itself into flight, the dragon looked down.  From the sky it could trace the thin path of destruction that the chase had taken through the forest.  The thin line of toppled trees showed the brilliance of the light-gray figure’s route.  There was a strong intelligence behind the act.  Yet Grixanthrosilithiss knew that the wyrm had not been able to be beaten.  His horde was safe and once again complete.  The dragon roared once more in an attempt to assert himself over his domain before turning straight for his lair.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
{Yes, I realize that for this post this section is redundant because there is no colored speech in the main post!  }

While the exodus was occurring and while Rhema and Semeion were climbing the long steps up to the dragon’s lair, the light-gray figure clutched the large ruby as he slowly descended to the ground and the forest that would protect him. The red wyrm had already made several passes at the figure, but each of them missed by narrow margins. There could be no doubt that the dragon had a greater speed, but the light-gray figure possessed a sleek sense of timing that had served him well thus far.

The light-gray figure slowed his approach to the treetops to allow the dragon one great pass before immersing himself into the cover. Grixanthrosilithiss saw his opportunity present itself and as he made a final turn he leveled off just above the tallest leaves of the forest. The wyrm flew in fast and hard, its leathery wings beating hard against the air. As he flew over the trees the thin branches at the top of the trees surged upward behind him as the breeze from his quick passing pulled them into the near vacuum that followed his presence.

The dragon knew that the light-gray figure would not make the tree line before it could be intercepted. Grixanthrosilithiss was no slouch in regards to the presence of the ghost, either. Time and time again the dragon had snapped at the ghost’s body with his magical fangs but grasped towards the gemstone with its claws as it sailed by. This approach would be no different. In preparation for the attack the dragon parted his lips on approach and viciously snapped its jaws together in a mock bite of intimidation.

The large dragon surged forward. At the last moment, the light-gray figure surged straight upward and above the dragon. Grixanthrosilithiss had not anticipated this maneuver. His fangs narrowly missed the ghostly figure’s feet. The wyrm thought about rolling over to allow him to attack upward with his claws. Yet the beast also knew that to do so would risk crashing into the treetops. The natural aerodynamics that lifted him into the air would only serve to assist gravity and pull him into the trees should he roll over this close to the foliage. Grixanthrosilithiss roared in anger as he sailed harmlessly past his stolen gemstone. The beast curved his neck in order to look behind him and watched the ghostly figure descend into the forest unharmed.

Once the figure knew the dragon could not interfere, he relinquished his ability to hold onto the stone with a smile upon his face. It was time to allow gravity to work. Without releasing his fingers, the dark ruby fell unhindered from his grasp and down into the forest canopy. Now that the ghostly figure was no longer bound by physical laws, the ghost was able to follow the stone easily through the maze of branches toward the ground. While the gemstone ricocheted off of countless branches the ghost merely passed through them until he reached the ground. Once the gemstone had come to rest upon the soft ground below the trees the light-gray figure reconstituted his ability to grasp the stone and he bent down to pick it up.

By this time the dragon had managed to loop around and come to a hovering position where he had seen the gemstone disappear. Grixanthrosilithiss sucked in a large breath of air and prepared to usher forth a great display of his most impressive draconic ability. As he exhaled, a torrent of orange, red, and blue flame poured forth from within his throat. The intensity of the flame singed the leaves on the trees below, although there was enough live wood in the way to prevent the flames from endangering the light-gray figure standing upon the ground below. The trees were in little danger of catching fire; the dragon’s breath wouldn’t last long enough to ignite the still growing wood. The burning of the leaves provided the dragon with the ability to see to the forest floor below him. For a split second he locked eyes with the ghostly figure that had stolen his gemstone.

Rage continued to build up within the dragon at each successful attempt in which the light-gray figure eluded his draconic grasp. The dragon decided that the branches in the area could not resist his heavy weight. His claws spread out and his wings opened to smooth his decent. Slowly he began to fall into the trees, branches bending, groaning, and then eventually snapping as they slowly bore the burden of his great weight. The gray figure below saw the dragon’s tactics and smiled. Once the dragon was on the ground the density of the tree growth would limit his effectiveness in combat.

The ghostly figure grasped the stone solidly and began to move off further to the east. The chase hadn’t lasted near long enough. By this time the village had enough time to be vacated and the villagers would be well on their way; but Semeion and Rhema should have only reached the dragon’s lair on foot by this point. He would need to lead the dragon deep into the thickest parts of the forest. That strategy would prevent the dragon from surging upward out of the forest as soon as the inevitable happened and the dragon caught up to the ghostly figure. Grixanthrosilithiss would have to backtrack on the ground to come to a place where the foliage could be broken through.

The ground thundered below Grixanthrosilithiss once he finally crashed to the ground. The ghostly figure did not feel the vibration as much as he noticed his surroundings shimmer slightly before his eyes. He didn’t need to turn around to sense the dragon’s fangs surge through the empty air behind him. The heat from the dragon’s normal breath was easily enough of a clue for him to realize that the pursuit was close behind.

Grixanthrosilithiss slide his long neck between the trees and snapped at the retreating figure. Once again the gemstone was just out of reach, his neck fell a matter of feet short once it was fully extended. The light-gray figure gained a few seconds advantage while Grixanthrosilithiss had to recoil his neck and find a path through the trees that his large body could follow. In the end, the great wyrm decided that it was simply easier to stand on his back feet and use his weight and front claws to topple the smaller trees than it was to find a path. It was slower, but it would get the job done and make it easier to fight once the battle was joined.

The light-gray figure smiled as he heard the trees snapping behind him. The reality was that with the trees snapping the dragon would likely not have a clear path to take to the sky once he was caught. It would be even more important that he kept the chase going as long as possible.

A short stone outcropping which rose up from the forest floor stood just ahead of the light-gray figure. The figure knew that Grixanthrosilithiss’s great strength was allowing him to gain from behind and this stone outcropping might provide him with the minute or two delay that he desired. The figure turned around to face his pursuer. Timing would be greatly important. The ghostly image looked up once more to judge the distance of the rock ledge above. When he returned his gaze back to the dragon he could see that Grixanthrosilithiss had slowed his approach. The dragon could sense that the figure was pinned between the dragon and the rock wall. 

The wyrm began to chuckle. Grixanthrosilithiss looked as though he thought about talking and reminding the ghostly figure that the situation was hopeless; but at the last moment the dragon’s neck shot forward without having issued forth a word. The beast’s fangs snapped apart, spraying spittle across many of the trees in the area. The figure looked for only a fraction of a second into the dragon’s throat.

In a flash of motion, the ghostly figure tossed the dark red ruby up into the air once he was sure that the dragon’s jaws were open far enough to obscure the movement from his vision. As the stone flew into the air, the figure closed his eyes and stepped backwards into the rock behind him. Less than a second later the dragon’s jaws collided solidly with the rock outcropping. Grixanthrosilithiss roared again in rage as the figure eluded his grasp once more.

It didn’t take the wyrm long to understand what the ghostly figure had done to outsmart him. The part that took the most time was figuring out how to overcome the obstacle. The rock stretched far to both the left and the right. The dragon could easily go over, but the beast would need to clear several trees before there would be a hole large enough to jump upward. Even so, this seemed like the quickest option. Grixanthrosilithiss turned around as best as he could and began to wildly use his weight to knock down trees. It took the better part of a minute, but the wyrm eventually cleared a large enough hole to spread his wings and spring upward in a jump.

In a single bound Grixanthrosilithiss was able to leap onto the top of the rock. The gemstone wasn’t on top of the rock. Then again, Grixanthrosilithiss hadn’t expected it to be there. The dragon lowered its head to peer through the woods on the other side of the rock and could see the stone in quick retreat away from his position. The dragon smiled grimly as it realized that the chase was on once more. Grixanthrosilithiss roared and breathed forth a cone of fire in the direction he planned to go. The heat of the fire singed the smaller branched and shriveled the leaves, making the trees easier to knock down. After knocking a few trees to the ground from the top of the rock face Grixanthrosilithiss was able to jump down to the ground and continue the pursuit.

In spite of the best efforts to flee, the light-gray figure knew that he could not run forever. Instead, the figure determined that the rock face held his best chance for success. Slowly and surely the light-gray figure led the great wyrm in a circle and once again found himself approaching the rock face from a new direction. The dragon was closing once more. The figure had kept him busy long enough. It had been over an hour now. It was time to give up the chase. The task should have been accomplished.

As the figure approached the rock it released its grip upon the dark red ruby. The gemstone clanked solidly against the rock and fell to the bottom of the rock face. The figure vanished safely as it passed into the rock surface. Grixanthrosilithiss roared once more in fury as it realized that it would not have the opportunity of beating the thief who had tried to steal from his horde. Still, he had been gone from his horde long enough. The dragon roared once more and expelled another breath of fire in order to mark the forest. Rather than retreating to the place that it had originally descended to the forest floor, Grixanthrosilithiss spent a few seconds knocking over a few more trees. In this way the beast give itself room to run a few steps before surging upward into the sky.

Once it had taken the gemstone and launched itself into flight, the dragon looked down. From the sky it could trace the thin path of destruction that the chase had taken through the forest. The thin line of toppled trees showed the brilliance of the light-gray figure’s route. There was a strong intelligence behind the act. Yet Grixanthrosilithiss knew that the wyrm had not been able to be beaten. His horde was safe and once again complete. The dragon roared once more in an attempt to assert himself over his domain before turning straight for his lair.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Nov 11, 2006)

*Chapter Thirteen: UNDER THE DRAGON’S CLAW*

Inside the cave, Charis could feel a large force of people coming towards the entrance.  She noted that they moved quietly for an entire village.  At the same time, the sheer number of them could not help but reverberate through the solid ground.  Although her ears denied it, her legs and feet told her that a large mass of people had entered the underground passageway and were moving through the mountain tunnel entrance.  There could only be one explanation.  The villagers had made it.

Charis lifted her oil lamp from the ground and turned the brass knob so that the wick was lowered closer to the oil.  With less wick exposed to the air, the light cast from the lamp decreased.  The horses at once sensed her caution but one by one she stroked their sides to keep them calm.  She knew that it would only be a matter of seconds before the lead portion of the group would approach the entrance to the side cavern in which she and the food had been hidden.

At the presence of the vibration, Darrok looked to Charis for confirmation of what he also felt.  He remained bound; but his position on the floor allowed him to feel the vibrations even more accurately than Charis.  When he noticed that she lowered the wick so that the light was reduced he knew that his suspicions were right.  She was going to be cautious and try to remain hidden.  The interesting part of his predicament was that it was likely in his best interest to remain hidden as well.  If the vibrations were from the villagers, they would not have pity upon him since he had attempted to ruin their escape.  If the vibrations were from some other force it would be likely that they would overcome Charis and he wouldn’t escape.  For right now, he had no choice but to put his faith and trust in Charis’ hands.

The noise slowed outside the chamber as confusion began to win over the force coming into the mountain.  Charis began to recognize the familiar voices of her long time friends.  She allowed the light from her lamp to pass through the chamber and spill out into the main tunnel.  She approached the main passageway and allowed the light to intensify in strength.  She could tell that the villagers had been slowed by the narrowing of the tunnel with respect to the forest passageway through which they had been traveling.  It took longer than she hoped to get the villagers completely inside the entrance.

Charis greeted the villagers once she was sure it was indeed who she expected.  “Welcome!  It is imperative that you come in down the tunnel as far as possible.  For your safety, you must make sure you are out of the range of his fiery breath.  Those in the front must continue to push on until all are safe.”

The ability to give orders to these people began to naturally return to her.  When she had been the Provenience for these people she had begun to take up the role of domination over them.  However, now she desired to lead them without dominating over them. It was a different feeling to be sure.

The crowd moved beyond her until they had all passed her by.  As they moved, several of the women gave Charis a hug and said a quick blessing over her.  With each embrace Charis returned the greeting and felt her confidence grow.  It felt good to know that her people had come thus far safely.  Her joy was unsurpassable knowing that her dragon father had finally been defeated after so much time.  As a village, they had spent so many years living under the evil lies which originated out of his scheming machinations.

Once the villagers had made it to the mountain passage, Xando allowed the people to enter while he directed the villagers from the rear.  As their leader, he wanted to be sure that all made it safely into the tunnels.  When they had all moved past Charis and the tunnel he called out for a halt.  “That’s far enough, Drakontai.  Rest here while I speak to Charis and Ischarus.”  Of course, the directions were spoken in their native draconic tongue.  It was the only language that all of the villagers innately knew.  Some had learned the common tongue of Tongra while others had not.

Charis greeted Xando with a hug.  Xando began to cry a few tears of gladness as he embraced her warmly.  Once they released, Xando began to look around the secret alcove where the food was stored.  He spoke with an intense curiosity.  “Is Ischarus not going to greet us today?”

Charis thought that she detected a slight tone of disappointment in his voice.  A thin smile fell over her lips.  It was the kind of smile that indicated she knew something that he did not.  “Ischarus had a separate journey to accomplish.  He left some time ago and I honestly do not know when to expect him back.  I assure you that he will return.  In fact, his return will mark the time that we should begin to prepare to leave into Tongra.  He believes he can pave the way to our freedom.”

Xando looked a bit concerned.  His eyebrows wrinkled as he tried to think through what Charis was telling to him.  “Isn’t Ischarus your protector?  Who will protect the people?”

Charis tried to hide her smile.  Apparently Xando had forgotten her own skill and the art of combat.  “Yes, Ischarus is the one who is most responsible for protection when we travel.  But you will be protected by me, my new god, and the magical powers of Semeion combined with Rhema’s enchantments.  Besides, not many natural predators of the tunnels will come near a force this size.”

While she spoke, there was a sound of hooves at the tunnel entrance.  Charis looked up and identified the rider as she approached.  Rhema rode in first followed by a horse with no rider in the saddle.  Elistra carried another woman into the tunnels.  Charis could only assume this was the new Provenience that had been called on to replace her in that position when Charis was taken from the village.

Rhema spoke strongly, and there was pain in her voice.  “We need to speak, Charis.  Your voice carries up this tunnel well.  We could hear your conversation.”  Rhema wasn’t sure how to address the loss of Semeion so she hoped to deflect the issue until it could not be avoided.

Unfortunately for Rhema, Charis picked up on the fact that Semeion was missing immediately.  Her face turned pale and her skin grew cold.  “Rhema, where’s Semeion?”  Her eyes darted back and forth between Rhema and the horse without a rider.  Once the horses drew even closer she could tell that it was Thana who went without anyone upon her back.  Her lips parted to speak once more but the words would not come.

Xando could only imagine that this story would not have a pleasant end.  He was already close to Charis from the hug they had exchange only moments ago.  He reached out and embraced her again as Rhema rode up beside her and dismounted.  Charis clung to Xando as both Thana and Shauvry drew nearer.

Rhema’s feet softly landed upon the floor as she dismounted Shauvry in a very smooth manner.  Looking to the villagers she found a boy that looked keenly interested in the horses.  “Xando, would you mind asking that boy to take the horses into the storage cave and put them with Abijou?”

As Xando nodded in reply, Charis added another layer of command.  “And make sure he knows to stay away from Darrok.”

The new Provenience was keenly interested in the mention of her father.  “My father is here?

Charis ignored the question, but Rhema turned to address the new Provenience.  “He is here, but there is much we need to talk about as well.”  Rhema looked to Xando and he seemed to understand the glance.

Xando released Charis and moved slowly to where the new Provenience sat atop Elistra.  As he moved, he spotted the boy that Rhema had indicated earlier.  With a motion and a quick glance he got the boy to follow him.  He brought Elistra’s reigns to the boy’s level and explained that he should take the horse into the alcove and return without speaking to anyone.  Once the boy understood, Xando helped the new Provenience down the ground and kept a careful watch over her while Rhema and Charis spoke.

Rhema looked to the floor as she began speaking.  “I don’t think Semeion will be coming back to Tongra with us, Charis.”  It probably wasn’t the best way to approach the topic, but Rhema could think of no better way under the circumstances.  Charis could see for herself that Semeion was not present.

Charis immediately began to cry at the words she dreaded hearing.  “But, why not?  What happened?  It was supposed to be a simple mission of retrieving the Provenience that replaced me.”

Rhema nodded and looked into Charis’ eyes.  “I know, Charis.  I know.  The new Provenience has a talent that neither Semeion nor I expected.  We are sure she is pregnant with at least one unborn child, and it may well have given her a unique gift.  She could breathe fire just like your dragon father.”

Charis continued to cry, but she also returned Rhema’s stare.  “Many of my people carry the marks of my dragon father.  In many ways even my own gifts are derived from his power.  There are even a few among the villagers that we rescued that have such power.  But I don’t understand how …”

Rhema embraced Charis in a hug once she realized Charis was trying her best to block the pain and explain away the truth.  “The new Provenience was resistant.  She was intent on killing us both.  Semeion sacrificed himself so that she would be forced to see that the village had been abandoned.  He stood on the dragon’s perch and forced her to join him to attack.  She breathed out her fire in an attack and Semeion was gone.”

Charis clutched at the immediate hope found in the story.  “Perhaps he went over the edge?” 

Charis meant to say more but Rhema cut her off.  “I thought the same thing when the new Provenience had breathed upon him.  I had hoped that maybe he lost his footing and fell.  But I looked, Charis.  I looked for him and couldn’t see any way out.  The mountain face is steep under the dragon’s perch and when it does become less steep it is covered in trees.  He would have either hit the rock face or crashed into the trees below.  It was easily at least a thirty foot drop to the trees and there’s no telling how much more below that.”

Charis fought back the tears even harder.  She bit her lower lip to resist the urge to cry harder as Rhema forced her to accept the truth.  “His magic?  Could his magic have saved him?”

Rhema shook her head and allowed Charis to bury her head into Rhema’s shoulder.  “I don’t know, Charis.  I don’t understand magic as well as Semeion did.  But have you ever seen him use teleportation magic?  I haven’t.  I didn’t think he was that strong.”

Charis cried a bit harder now.  “No, he could not master it yet.  That was one thing he said to me after we visited Fingerdale.  He told me that as soon as he was ready then he was going to ask Brandt to teach him a teleportation spell.  It never happened.  He knew that he wasn’t ready yet.”

Charis continued to cry hard against Rhema’s shoulder.  Rhema could sense that she had worn herself out trying to think up new reasons to find hope.  Slowly, each possibility had been exhausted.  The only truth that remained was that Semeion had caught the effects of the new Provenience’s breath and had fallen to his doom.  He must have fallen out of Rhema’s sight.

Xando stood patiently by Charis and Rhema as Rhema recounted the story.  The new Provenience seemed deeply moved by the fact that she had directly caused Charis’ pain and Rhema saw that the new Provenience was being deeply affected.  Once Rhema could sense that the new Provenience had seen enough, she motioned for Xando to lead her into the alcove to meet with her father.  

Xando knew that he would need to restrain her.  Darrok would likely be satisfied upon seeing his daughter, but it would be safest to keep him bound as well.  Soon enough they would both be free.  But the time was not quite ready to bring that possibility into existence.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]Chapter Thirteen: UNDER THE DRAGON’S CLAW

Inside the cave, Charis could feel a large force of people coming towards the entrance. She noted that they moved quietly for an entire village. At the same time, the sheer number of them could not help but reverberate through the solid ground. Although her ears denied it, her legs and feet told her that a large mass of people had entered the underground passageway and were moving through the mountain tunnel entrance. There could only be one explanation. The villagers had made it.

Charis lifted her oil lamp from the ground and turned the brass knob so that the wick was lowered closer to the oil. With less wick exposed to the air, the light cast from the lamp decreased. The horses at once sensed her caution but one by one she stroked their sides to keep them calm. She knew that it would only be a matter of seconds before the lead portion of the group would approach the entrance to the side cavern in which she and the food had been hidden.

At the presence of the vibration, Darrok looked to Charis for confirmation of what he also felt. He remained bound; but his position on the floor allowed him to feel the vibrations even more accurately than Charis. When he noticed that she lowered the wick so that the light was reduced he knew that his suspicions were right. She was going to be cautious and try to remain hidden. The interesting part of his predicament was that it was likely in his best interest to remain hidden as well. If the vibrations were from the villagers, they would not have pity upon him since he had attempted to ruin their escape. If the vibrations were from some other force it would be likely that they would overcome Charis and he wouldn’t escape. For right now, he had no choice but to put his faith and trust in Charis’ hands.

The noise slowed outside the chamber as confusion began to win over the force coming into the mountain. Charis began to recognize the familiar voices of her long time friends. She allowed the light from her lamp to pass through the chamber and spill out into the main tunnel. She approached the main passageway and allowed the light to intensify in strength. She could tell that the villagers had been slowed by the narrowing of the tunnel with respect to the forest passageway through which they had been traveling. It took longer than she hoped to get the villagers completely inside the entrance.

Charis greeted the villagers once she was sure it was indeed who she expected. “Welcome! It is imperative that you come in down the tunnel as far as possible. For your safety, you must make sure you are out of the range of his fiery breath. Those in the front must continue to push on until all are safe.”

The ability to give orders to these people began to naturally return to her. When she had been the Provenience for these people she had begun to take up the role of domination over them. However, now she desired to lead them without dominating over them. It was a different feeling to be sure.

The crowd moved beyond her until they had all passed her by. As they moved, several of the women gave Charis a hug and said a quick blessing over her. With each embrace Charis returned the greeting and felt her confidence grow. It felt good to know that her people had come thus far safely. Her joy was unsurpassable knowing that her dragon father had finally been defeated after so much time. As a village, they had spent so many years living under the evil lies which originated out of his scheming machinations.

Once the villagers had made it to the mountain passage, Xando allowed the people to enter while he directed the villagers from the rear. As their leader, he wanted to be sure that all made it safely into the tunnels. When they had all moved past Charis and the tunnel he called out for a halt. “That’s far enough, Drakontai. Rest here while I speak to Charis and Ischarus.” Of course, the directions were spoken in their native draconic tongue. It was the only language that all of the villagers innately knew. Some had learned the common tongue of Tongra while others had not.

Charis greeted Xando with a hug. Xando began to cry a few tears of gladness as he embraced her warmly. Once they released, Xando began to look around the secret alcove where the food was stored. He spoke with an intense curiosity. “Is Ischarus not going to greet us today?”

Charis thought that she detected a slight tone of disappointment in his voice. A thin smile fell over her lips. It was the kind of smile that indicated she knew something that he did not. “Ischarus had a separate journey to accomplish. He left some time ago and I honestly do not know when to expect him back. I assure you that he will return. In fact, his return will mark the time that we should begin to prepare to leave into Tongra. He believes he can pave the way to our freedom.”

Xando looked a bit concerned. His eyebrows wrinkled as he tried to think through what Charis was telling to him. “Isn’t Ischarus your protector? Who will protect the people?”

Charis tried to hide her smile. Apparently Xando had forgotten her own skill and the art of combat. “Yes, Ischarus is the one who is most responsible for protection when we travel. But you will be protected by me, my new god, and the magical powers of Semeion combined with Rhema’s enchantments. Besides, not many natural predators of the tunnels will come near a force this size.”

While she spoke, there was a sound of hooves at the tunnel entrance. Charis looked up and identified the rider as she approached. Rhema rode in first followed by a horse with no rider in the saddle. Elistra carried another woman into the tunnels. Charis could only assume this was the new Provenience that had been called on to replace her in that position when Charis was taken from the village.

Rhema spoke strongly, and there was pain in her voice. “We need to speak, Charis. Your voice carries up this tunnel well. We could hear your conversation.” Rhema wasn’t sure how to address the loss of Semeion so she hoped to deflect the issue until it could not be avoided.

Unfortunately for Rhema, Charis picked up on the fact that Semeion was missing immediately. Her face turned pale and her skin grew cold. “Rhema, where’s Semeion?” Her eyes darted back and forth between Rhema and the horse without a rider. Once the horses drew even closer she could tell that it was Thana who went without anyone upon her back. Her lips parted to speak once more but the words would not come.

Xando could only imagine that this story would not have a pleasant end. He was already close to Charis from the hug they had exchange only moments ago. He reached out and embraced her again as Rhema rode up beside her and dismounted. Charis clung to Xando as both Thana and Shauvry drew nearer.

Rhema’s feet softly landed upon the floor as she dismounted Shauvry in a very smooth manner. Looking to the villagers she found a boy that looked keenly interested in the horses. “Xando, would you mind asking that boy to take the horses into the storage cave and put them with Abijou?”

As Xando nodded in reply, Charis added another layer of command. “And make sure he knows to stay away from Darrok.”

The new Provenience was keenly interested in the mention of her father. “My father is here?

Charis ignored the question, but Rhema turned to address the new Provenience. “He is here, but there is much we need to talk about as well.” Rhema looked to Xando and he seemed to understand the glance.

Xando released Charis and moved slowly to where the new Provenience sat atop Elistra. As he moved, he spotted the boy that Rhema had indicated earlier. With a motion and a quick glance he got the boy to follow him. He brought Elistra’s reigns to the boy’s level and explained that he should take the horse into the alcove and return without speaking to anyone. Once the boy understood, Xando helped the new Provenience down the ground and kept a careful watch over her while Rhema and Charis spoke.

Rhema looked to the floor as she began speaking. “I don’t think Semeion will be coming back to Tongra with us, Charis.” It probably wasn’t the best way to approach the topic, but Rhema could think of no better way under the circumstances. Charis could see for herself that Semeion was not present.

Charis immediately began to cry at the words she dreaded hearing. “But, why not? What happened? It was supposed to be a simple mission of retrieving the Provenience that replaced me.”

Rhema nodded and looked into Charis’ eyes. “I know, Charis. I know. The new Provenience has a talent that neither Semeion nor I expected. We are sure she is pregnant with at least one unborn child, and it may well have given her a unique gift. She could breathe fire just like your dragon father.”

Charis continued to cry, but she also returned Rhema’s stare. “Many of my people carry the marks of my dragon father. In many ways even my own gifts are derived from his power. There are even a few among the villagers that we rescued that have such power. But I don’t understand how …”

Rhema embraced Charis in a hug once she realized Charis was trying her best to block the pain and explain away the truth. “The new Provenience was resistant. She was intent on killing us both. Semeion sacrificed himself so that she would be forced to see that the village had been abandoned. He stood on the dragon’s perch and forced her to join him to attack. She breathed out her fire in an attack and Semeion was gone.”

Charis clutched at the immediate hope found in the story. “Perhaps he went over the edge?” 

Charis meant to say more but Rhema cut her off. “I thought the same thing when the new Provenience had breathed upon him. I had hoped that maybe he lost his footing and fell. But I looked, Charis. I looked for him and couldn’t see any way out. The mountain face is steep under the dragon’s perch and when it does become less steep it is covered in trees. He would have either hit the rock face or crashed into the trees below. It was easily at least a thirty foot drop to the trees and there’s no telling how much more below that.”

Charis fought back the tears even harder. She bit her lower lip to resist the urge to cry harder as Rhema forced her to accept the truth. “His magic? Could his magic have saved him?”

Rhema shook her head and allowed Charis to bury her head into Rhema’s shoulder. “I don’t know, Charis. I don’t understand magic as well as Semeion did. But have you ever seen him use teleportation magic? I haven’t. I didn’t think he was that strong.”

Charis cried a bit harder now. “No, he could not master it yet. That was one thing he said to me after we visited Fingerdale. He told me that as soon as he was ready then he was going to ask Brandt to teach him a teleportation spell. It never happened. He knew that he wasn’t ready yet.”

Charis continued to cry hard against Rhema’s shoulder. Rhema could sense that she had worn herself out trying to think up new reasons to find hope. Slowly, each possibility had been exhausted. The only truth that remained was that Semeion had caught the effects of the new Provenience’s breath and had fallen to his doom. He must have fallen out of Rhema’s sight.

Xando stood patiently by Charis and Rhema as Rhema recounted the story. The new Provenience seemed deeply moved by the fact that she had directly caused Charis’ pain and Rhema saw that the new Provenience was being deeply affected. Once Rhema could sense that the new Provenience had seen enough, she motioned for Xando to lead her into the alcove to meet with her father. 

Xando knew that he would need to restrain her. Darrok would likely be satisfied upon seeing his daughter, but it would be safest to keep him bound as well. Soon enough they would both be free. But the time was not quite ready to bring that possibility into existence.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Nov 13, 2006)

Inside the hidden chamber, Xando brought the new Provenience to Darrok.  “I told you that he was safe and here for you to see.”

The new Provenience smiled for a second before she noticed that her father was bound.  A look of anger immediately surged over her face. “Why have you bound him?  Is he not to be free with the rest of the village?”

And the sound of her voice, Darrok looked up to the face of his daughter.  “Tierna, is that you?”  The name Tierna was of a draconic origin and Darrok spoke the name softly with a great deal of affection.

Xando stepped away from the new Provenience as he explained the condition of her father.  “He is bound because he stepped in the way of the coming of freedom to the village.  His intent was to keep our people enslaved under the wrath of our dragon father.  Until we are free without repercussion of the dragon father’s wrath we unfortunately cannot trust him.”

The new Provenience shot a confused look to Xando.  “You proclaim freedom for all yet deny it to my own father?”

Darrok looked up to his daughter.  “Tierna, do not be upset.  I did not believe that they could save you since you were so close to our dragon father all the time.  If they could not save you, I was not going to abandon you to face the wrath of our dragon father alone.”

Xando interrupted.  “He attempted to warn our dragon father of our plan.  His action would have put us all in danger.  In fact, if the rumors are true that you are indeed carrying the crossbred children of dragon and Drakontai we would have likely all been killed under his wrath.  We could not let that happen.”

The new Provenience was no longer buying the explanation.  She looked angrily upon Xando.  Her respect for the village elder was beginning to grow thin at the outrage against her father.  Perhaps more importantly, her anger helped her overcome the loose control that Rhema had been able to maintain so far.

Outside the hidden chamber Rhema’s eyes flashed open in sudden awareness.  She released Charis from the comforting embrace and pushed back far enough to catch Charis’ eyes with her own.  Her eyes glanced into the darkness of the antechamber where the food stores were being kept.

At once Charis knew something was wrong.  She quickly asked Rhema what had alerted her senses.  “Rhema?  What’s wrong?  Did you hear something?”

Rhema shook her head from side to side.  “No, more like I felt something.  Grab your pick and follow me.  We need to hurry to keep order.”

Inside the room, the new Provenience saw the movement at the entrance to the cave.  Her eyes focused beyond Xando upon Charis and Rhema as they came into the room.  Rhema came first and was unarmed.  She had her hands open in a direction towards the new Provenience.  Charis followed at her heels with her pick already drawn.  There was a menacing expression upon her face.

Rhema broke the silence, not desiring to give the new Provenience a chance to talk.  “Listen to me, Provenience.  You are free.  Your family has been saved.  There is no reason to be angry.”

As Rhema spoke, Charis stepped slightly ahead of Rhema and stood to her right.  She stood with her legs spread wide for balance.  The new Provenience could tell that she was readying herself against any kind of attack.  

Tierna wisely chose to speak rather than act.  “No reason to be angry?  You use your mind controlling witch powers upon me to trick me to come here willingly and I have no reason to be angry?  And when I do come here I find that my father has been bound and his freedom taken away?  What reason do I have to believe you and your words of freedom?  How long will you keep him bound?”

Xando gestured calmly with his hands in an attempt to diffuse the new Provenience’s anger.  “Provenience, surely you can understand why all of these precautions were made.  The necessity to bind your father was for the sake of the village.  Had your father succeeded we would likely be dead!”

The new Provenience scowled at Xando’s assertion.  “Do you think that I honestly care?  The villagers were weak and thought they could have freedom once before.  Our dragon father demonstrated his power by bringing you all back together after the weak Provenience fled and stayed away.”

Charis spoke up to refute Tierna’s words.  There was a stern sense of simmering anger behind her tone.  “That is where we are different, Provenience.”  Charis couldn’t believe the amount of freedom she felt in speaking that title in reference to another person.  “We would fight for your freedom while you would desire that the villagers die so you may become powerful.  I once thought the same as you.  I once thought that the title of Provenience would give me great power.  But what I have learned is that the Provenience is simply bred until they are useless for producing offspring any more.  Then, they are consumed.  There is no glory waiting for you.  You desire a power that was never yours to grasp.  We seek to give you true power through your freedom.”

The new Provenience snapped a reply back to Charis.  “You speak to cover your own failing.  You couldn’t handle becoming the Provenience so you stayed away from the power of our dragon father.  And if what you had to say was even remotely true, why did you compel me to come here through the power of mind control that your friend the witch uses?”

Rhema had enough of being called a witch.  Her voice raised in volume as she answered the new Provenience’s claims.  “Your dragon father could not be counted on being gone for long.  We could divert him from the cave for only so long.  We didn’t have the luxury of taking our time.  You were being argumentative, as would be expected.  I saw an opportunity to win you over without explaining it all in the dragon’s chamber.  What was important was getting you here safely.  We promised that much to your father.”

The new Provenience winced at the mention of her father.  She was obviously still angry with seeing her father bound.  She was angry enough that she had missed a pair of people entering the hidden alcove behind Rhema and Charis.

A frail voice came from one of the newcomers.  “Listen to them, child.  They speak the truth.  You are to be commended for your desire to serve our dragon father, but you must let go of that blind obedience.”  Rhema and Charis didn’t need to turn around to know the speaker.  Druff had entered the chamber.

A second voice continued where Druff left off.  This softer and more feminine voice did catch Charis and Rhema by surprise.  “Yes, Tierna.  Your actions are commendable indeed.  You have made your father and me proud.  But you are here with us now. You can raise your unborn children in peace without fear of suffering under our dragon father.  You can raise your children with us alive.”

Darrok tried to look from his position to where his wife stood.  He could not see her, but his face revealed that he was obviously pleased that she was safe.  Simply hearing her voice softened his expression.  He spoke to his daughter softly.  “Tierna, they have bound me because I wanted to go against them.  But now that you are all here I see the error of my ways.  I do not blame them because I did not have the necessary faith to see their combined strength.  Don’t be angry on my behalf.  You have enough to think about without being angry on my behalf.”

The new Provenience scowled at the words of her father.  The scowl was not in anger as much as it was in recognition of the complication that had taken her life by storm over the past few hours.  She darted the focus of her eyes around the room from person to person.  There were certainly too many people involved now to solve this dilemma with violence.

Before the new Provenience could respond, Druff’s voice filled the cavern again.  “Friends, I believe that Darrok has truly seen the error of his ways.  I believe that he desires freedom as much as the rest of us and no longer feels any loyalty to our dragon father.  I ask that in an attempt to make a show for Tierna’s sake that you release Darrok to my honor.”

Xando spoke as well.  Perhaps he had misjudged the situation before he had brought the new Provenience into the room.  “On my honor as well.  I will stand beside Druff and guarantee that Darrok’s allegiance has shifted away from our father dragon.”

Charis turned to Rhema, giving her the authority to speak on behalf of the rescue attempt.  Rhema nodded slowly to the affirmative.  “There is likely little comfort any of them would find in their village.  I would be surprised if their father dragon has not returned by now and found his Provenience gone and the village empty.  Should they return they would find themselves with their father dragon’s fury focused solely on them.”  A grim smile passed over her lips, knowing that her speech was intended more for Darrok and the new Provenience that anyone else.

Charis nodded approvingly.  “Besides, we need to start moving the supplies to the hall deeper in the mountain.  There the mountain will truly provide shelter for us as long as we need it.  Xando, free him and get the people ready to receive supplies.  When we move, we’ll move as many of the supplies at first as we can.”

Xando freed Darrok, and with the help of Druff and Darrok’s wife they brought the new Provenience among the people.  Tierna turned to face the cave entrance secretly wishing she could return to Quehalost.  As she looked out the entrance a fair distance away she could not see the figure approaching from the forest.  

The light-gray figure slowly approached the entrance knowing that the rendezvous was to occur within this space.  As it reached the entrance to the tunnel it met a force that it could not penetrate.  The ghostly figure was bound to Quehalost.  The same power that kept the figure from properly entering the afterlife also kept the figure from meeting up with the freedom fighters gathering beneath the mountain.  It stood alone at the cave entrance, unable to go any further.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Inside the hidden chamber, Xando brought the new Provenience to Darrok. “I told you that he was safe and here for you to see.”

The new Provenience smiled for a second before she noticed that her father was bound. A look of anger immediately surged over her face. “Why have you bound him? Is he not to be free with the rest of the village?”

And the sound of her voice, Darrok looked up to the face of his daughter. “Tierna, is that you?” The name Tierna was of a draconic origin and Darrok spoke the name softly with a great deal of affection.

Xando stepped away from the new Provenience as he explained the condition of her father. “He is bound because he stepped in the way of the coming of freedom to the village. His intent was to keep our people enslaved under the wrath of our dragon father. Until we are free without repercussion of the dragon father’s wrath we unfortunately cannot trust him.”

The new Provenience shot a confused look to Xando. “You proclaim freedom for all yet deny it to my own father?”

Darrok looked up to his daughter. “Tierna, do not be upset. I did not believe that they could save you since you were so close to our dragon father all the time. If they could not save you, I was not going to abandon you to face the wrath of our dragon father alone.”

Xando interrupted. “He attempted to warn our dragon father of our plan. His action would have put us all in danger. In fact, if the rumors are true that you are indeed carrying the crossbred children of dragon and Drakontai we would have likely all been killed under his wrath. We could not let that happen.”

The new Provenience was no longer buying the explanation. She looked angrily upon Xando. Her respect for the village elder was beginning to grow thin at the outrage against her father. Perhaps more importantly, her anger helped her overcome the loose control that Rhema had been able to maintain so far.

Outside the hidden chamber Rhema’s eyes flashed open in sudden awareness. She released Charis from the comforting embrace and pushed back far enough to catch Charis’ eyes with her own. Her eyes glanced into the darkness of the antechamber where the food stores were being kept.

At once Charis knew something was wrong. She quickly asked Rhema what had alerted her senses. “Rhema? What’s wrong? Did you hear something?”

Rhema shook her head from side to side. “No, more like I felt something. Grab your pick and follow me. We need to hurry to keep order.”

Inside the room, the new Provenience saw the movement at the entrance to the cave. Her eyes focused beyond Xando upon Charis and Rhema as they came into the room. Rhema came first and was unarmed. She had her hands open in a direction towards the new Provenience. Charis followed at her heels with her pick already drawn. There was a menacing expression upon her face.

Rhema broke the silence, not desiring to give the new Provenience a chance to talk. “Listen to me, Provenience. You are free. Your family has been saved. There is no reason to be angry.”

As Rhema spoke, Charis stepped slightly ahead of Rhema and stood to her right. She stood with her legs spread wide for balance. The new Provenience could tell that she was readying herself against any kind of attack. 

Tierna wisely chose to speak rather than act. “No reason to be angry? You use your mind controlling witch powers upon me to trick me to come here willingly and I have no reason to be angry? And when I do come here I find that my father has been bound and his freedom taken away? What reason do I have to believe you and your words of freedom? How long will you keep him bound?”

Xando gestured calmly with his hands in an attempt to diffuse the new Provenience’s anger. “Provenience, surely you can understand why all of these precautions were made. The necessity to bind your father was for the sake of the village. Had your father succeeded we would likely be dead!”

The new Provenience scowled at Xando’s assertion. “Do you think that I honestly care? The villagers were weak and thought they could have freedom once before. Our dragon father demonstrated his power by bringing you all back together after the weak Provenience fled and stayed away.”

Charis spoke up to refute Tierna’s words. There was a stern sense of simmering anger behind her tone. “That is where we are different, Provenience.” Charis couldn’t believe the amount of freedom she felt in speaking that title in reference to another person. “We would fight for your freedom while you would desire that the villagers die so you may become powerful. I once thought the same as you. I once thought that the title of Provenience would give me great power. But what I have learned is that the Provenience is simply bred until they are useless for producing offspring any more. Then, they are consumed. There is no glory waiting for you. You desire a power that was never yours to grasp. We seek to give you true power through your freedom.”

The new Provenience snapped a reply back to Charis. “You speak to cover your own failing. You couldn’t handle becoming the Provenience so you stayed away from the power of our dragon father. And if what you had to say was even remotely true, why did you compel me to come here through the power of mind control that your friend the witch uses?”

Rhema had enough of being called a witch. Her voice raised in volume as she answered the new Provenience’s claims. “Your dragon father could not be counted on being gone for long. We could divert him from the cave for only so long. We didn’t have the luxury of taking our time. You were being argumentative, as would be expected. I saw an opportunity to win you over without explaining it all in the dragon’s chamber. What was important was getting you here safely. We promised that much to your father.”

The new Provenience winced at the mention of her father. She was obviously still angry with seeing her father bound. She was angry enough that she had missed a pair of people entering the hidden alcove behind Rhema and Charis.

A frail voice came from one of the newcomers. “Listen to them, child. They speak the truth. You are to be commended for your desire to serve our dragon father, but you must let go of that blind obedience.” Rhema and Charis didn’t need to turn around to know the speaker. Druff had entered the chamber.

A second voice continued where Druff left off. This softer and more feminine voice did catch Charis and Rhema by surprise. “Yes, Tierna. Your actions are commendable indeed. You have made your father and me proud. But you are here with us now. You can raise your unborn children in peace without fear of suffering under our dragon father. You can raise your children with us alive.”

Darrok tried to look from his position to where his wife stood. He could not see her, but his face revealed that he was obviously pleased that she was safe. Simply hearing her voice softened his expression. He spoke to his daughter softly. “Tierna, they have bound me because I wanted to go against them. But now that you are all here I see the error of my ways. I do not blame them because I did not have the necessary faith to see their combined strength. Don’t be angry on my behalf. You have enough to think about without being angry on my behalf.”

The new Provenience scowled at the words of her father. The scowl was not in anger as much as it was in recognition of the complication that had taken her life by storm over the past few hours. She darted the focus of her eyes around the room from person to person. There were certainly too many people involved now to solve this dilemma with violence.

Before the new Provenience could respond, Druff’s voice filled the cavern again. “Friends, I believe that Darrok has truly seen the error of his ways. I believe that he desires freedom as much as the rest of us and no longer feels any loyalty to our dragon father. I ask that in an attempt to make a show for Tierna’s sake that you release Darrok to my honor.”

Xando spoke as well. Perhaps he had misjudged the situation before he had brought the new Provenience into the room. “On my honor as well. I will stand beside Druff and guarantee that Darrok’s allegiance has shifted away from our father dragon.”

Charis turned to Rhema, giving her the authority to speak on behalf of the rescue attempt. Rhema nodded slowly to the affirmative. “There is likely little comfort any of them would find in their village. I would be surprised if their father dragon has not returned by now and found his Provenience gone and the village empty. Should they return they would find themselves with their father dragon’s fury focused solely on them.” A grim smile passed over her lips, knowing that her speech was intended more for Darrok and the new Provenience that anyone else.

Charis nodded approvingly. “Besides, we need to start moving the supplies to the hall deeper in the mountain. There the mountain will truly provide shelter for us as long as we need it. Xando, free him and get the people ready to receive supplies. When we move, we’ll move as many of the supplies at first as we can.”

Xando freed Darrok, and with the help of Druff and Darrok’s wife they brought the new Provenience among the people. Tierna turned to face the cave entrance secretly wishing she could return to Quehalost. As she looked out the entrance a fair distance away she could not see the figure approaching from the forest. 

The light-gray figure slowly approached the entrance knowing that the rendezvous was to occur within this space. As it reached the entrance to the tunnel it met a force that it could not penetrate. The ghostly figure was bound to Quehalost. The same power that kept the figure from properly entering the afterlife also kept the figure from meeting up with the freedom fighters gathering beneath the mountain. It stood alone at the cave entrance, unable to go any further.
 [/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Nov 18, 2006)

Back in the draconic village in Quehalost, the red wyrm had returned victoriously to his dragon perch with his deep red ruby in his grasp.  He was proud to have been able to retrieve it.  The dragon was overcompensating for the damaged pride that he suffered from having the deep red ruby stolen so easily in the first place.  His ego was bruised by the fact that he was not able to defeat the ghostly figure in combat, but in the long run that would matter little.  What was important was that the horde had been preserved.

He had wanted to gloat over the victory before his Provenience.  If nothing else this was proof that he was still as great and powerful as he thought.  His Provenience would only confirm this fact and verbally stroke his ego.  With a little bit of luck, he had hoped his musically gifted Provenience would even be able to sing a few songs proclaiming his valor in protecting his people.  If she could sing about his greatness, he could forget about having the precious gemstone stolen in the first place.  It was this very yearning to ease his ego that enabled him to fly directly over the village without noticing that the village was completely empty.

When he landed on the perch, the draconic beast bellowed for his Provenience to come to him in the brisk mountain air.  “Provenience, I have returned in glory to demonstrate my protection over you!”

He couldn’t have possibly known the irony of his declaration as he spoke the words.  When she didn’t immediately respond to his beckon, much less come running out onto the stone perch, he called again.  His tone kept the same sense of pomp and circumstance as the last announcement.  “Provenience, I have called you to come to me.  Do not underestimate my desire to have you obey me.”  In addition to the pomp and circumstance, this time his voice did not even begin to hide his coming anger at her disobedience.

He paused for a moment out on the perch.  His wrath was now beginning to boil inside of him, but he desired to give his Provenience as much time as possible to prove her loyalty.  When his anger could wait no longer he sucked in a large breath and let out a bellowing draconic roar.  The roar echoed across the valley that he called home; and for several seconds even the birds in the trees below him were silent from their songs.

Once the echoes had died down below an audible level he took notice of the fact that even the roar had not summoned his Provenience out onto the ledge.  He tucked his head down to a shoulder height and stepped toward the main chamber with a purpose.  His intention was no longer pleasant.  This was no cause to kill the Provenience, but in his mind he knew that this kind of disobedience could not go unchecked.  His power relied on dominance and an obvious display of his superiority.  If that were to ever come into question he knew that his tyranny over the people would be in jeopardy.  Again, he could not have known that this very possibility had been already brought into action through the intervention of the four adventurers and his prior brutal treatment of the people.

As he marched into the main chamber he could see the apparent signs of the fight.  There were a few pieces of scorched straw which had caught fire from when his Provenience had used her own breath weapon in defense of the dragon’s chamber.  Perhaps more than anything the great wyrm noticed that his Provenience herself was no longer present.  He took a quick glance around the room and noticed that the few possessions which his Provenience did own were no longer there.  Her mandolin had been taken with her.  The bone carved comb she used to care for her hair was not in its usual place.

The dragon paused for a moment and sniffed the air.  Although the cave was largely open to the elements through the hole that led to the perch above the village, the dragon could still smell two distinctly odd scents.  Both of the scents reminded him of adrenaline and panic.  He also smelled the fear and anger of his own Provenience.  There had indeed been a fight in his chamber and his Provenience had stepped up to defend the chamber.  The dragon closed his eyes for a second and mentally conjured up his magical power to perceive residual energy with his eyes.  When he opened his eyes he noted that the room glowed faintly in several areas.

The dragon bellowed once more at this new discovery.  “There has been magic used in my chamber?”  The beast stopped for a moment and concentrated a bit harder to determine if the magic had been used recently enough to determine the strength or perhaps even the effect.  Unfortunately for the great wyrm the power had faded too quickly and he had been gone too long.

The dragon thought on this for a few moments while he tried to piece together what had happened to him.  The beast talked aloud to itself as it pieced together the events.  “I have not been away long enough to have a powerful spell fade like that.  The magical effects used must certainly have been a lowly spell.  Such a spell my Provenience should have been able to overcome.  And if it was a lowly spell it could not have been teleportation magic.  A teleport would certainly have left a greater residual aura than this for the time that I have been gone.”

Immediately the draconic beast turned back to his perch.  He looked down into the valley below, this time noting that the village was completely empty.  The village was typically quiet during the day.  Those able to hunt and gather food were usually away from the village and going about their chores.  Those who worked with the plants and hides typically did their craft indoors to avoid the searing affects of the sun as much as possible.  It was not unusual for the village to be quiet.  But this time the village was more than quiet.  It was abandoned.

The beast leapt off his perch and unfurled his large leathery wings.  He had been caught so off guard by the emptiness of the village that he had forgotten to see if there were any residual magic traces upon his perch.  Slowly the beast circled down to the ground.  He caught what few air currents rose from the ground as the air warmed in order to gracefully descend to the ground.  He slowed his descent and landed atop the horizontal sacrificial stone in the center of the village.  The red wyrm brought his neck low enough to peer into the cage where Druff had been kept for so long.

Anger erupted inside the dragon.  “Empty!”  The dragon followed the yell with another tremendous roar.  The cage did not appear to be damaged, so the dragon checked again for a residual magical aura.  He was not disappointed to find that there was still a weak residual aura.  This aura was also too weak to determine what effect had been in place and how long ago it was conjured into existence.

The dragon brought his scaly eyebrows down to reflect the boiling anger inside of him.  As he thought, his eyes closed enough so that only the cat-like irises and the fiery red pupils could be seen between his upper and lower eyelid.  “I do not like being tricked, and I promise to find out how this happened and make whoever is responsible pay!”

His warning was for nobody in particular.  In truth, the dragon had hoped that there was someone left in the village that could be beaten into telling him what had transpired here.  He also hoped that the perpetrators of this horrendous crime might be close enough to hear his threat.  But there was no response to his threat of any sort.

Out of fury, the dragon began to breathe his fiery death onto the wood buildings that encircled the sacrificial stone.  The wyrm was sure that as the buildings caught on fire the inhabitants would be forced to flee.  Of course, the dragon knew that this truth depended upon if any villagers remained cowering in the village.  The dragon watched the buildings burn until it was painfully obvious that nobody was left within the buildings.  They burned quickly without anyone to fight against the flames.

It was then that the dragon noticed the path leading away to the mountains between Tongra and Quehalost.  A large number of people had recently traveled along this path.  It took no leap of reasoning to realize that the villagers had left a trail for him to follow.  The trail was no doubt unintentional; but it was also impossible to avoid.  They had given him a path to follow, and the path was easily enough followed from the air.

The dragon once more unfurled his wings and rose into the air where he could use his greater speed to his advantage.  It wasn’t long before the dragon found himself in a three-month old feeling of deja vu.  This was the identical path that he had used to chase down those who had stolen his last Provenience.

The dragon smiled smugly as it followed the path by air.  “I found the villagers before.  They were cowering and afraid.  They will be no different this time.  Yet this time I will not accept them back.  They have earned their destruction at this show of rejection.  I will enjoy slaughtering them as they come back to me begging for my protection.  Then I will start completely anew.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Back in the draconic village in Quehalost, the red wyrm had returned victoriously to his dragon perch with his deep red ruby in his grasp. He was proud to have been able to retrieve it. The dragon was overcompensating for the damaged pride that he suffered from having the deep red ruby stolen so easily in the first place. His ego was bruised by the fact that he was not able to defeat the ghostly figure in combat, but in the long run that would matter little. What was important was that the horde had been preserved.

He had wanted to gloat over the victory before his Provenience. If nothing else this was proof that he was still as great and powerful as he thought. His Provenience would only confirm this fact and verbally stroke his ego. With a little bit of luck, he had hoped his musically gifted Provenience would even be able to sing a few songs proclaiming his valor in protecting his people. If she could sing about his greatness, he could forget about having the precious gemstone stolen in the first place. It was this very yearning to ease his ego that enabled him to fly directly over the village without noticing that the village was completely empty.

When he landed on the perch, the draconic beast bellowed for his Provenience to come to him in the brisk mountain air. “Provenience, I have returned in glory to demonstrate my protection over you!”

He couldn’t have possibly known the irony of his declaration as he spoke the words. When she didn’t immediately respond to his beckon, much less come running out onto the stone perch, he called again. His tone kept the same sense of pomp and circumstance as the last announcement. “Provenience, I have called you to come to me. Do not underestimate my desire to have you obey me.” In addition to the pomp and circumstance, this time his voice did not even begin to hide his coming anger at her disobedience.

He paused for a moment out on the perch. His wrath was now beginning to boil inside of him, but he desired to give his Provenience as much time as possible to prove her loyalty. When his anger could wait no longer he sucked in a large breath and let out a bellowing draconic roar. The roar echoed across the valley that he called home; and for several seconds even the birds in the trees below him were silent from their songs.

Once the echoes had died down below an audible level he took notice of the fact that even the roar had not summoned his Provenience out onto the ledge. He tucked his head down to a shoulder height and stepped toward the main chamber with a purpose. His intention was no longer pleasant. This was no cause to kill the Provenience, but in his mind he knew that this kind of disobedience could not go unchecked. His power relied on dominance and an obvious display of his superiority. If that were to ever come into question he knew that his tyranny over the people would be in jeopardy. Again, he could not have known that this very possibility had been already brought into action through the intervention of the four adventurers and his prior brutal treatment of the people.

As he marched into the main chamber he could see the apparent signs of the fight. There were a few pieces of scorched straw which had caught fire from when his Provenience had used her own breath weapon in defense of the dragon’s chamber. Perhaps more than anything the great wyrm noticed that his Provenience herself was no longer present. He took a quick glance around the room and noticed that the few possessions which his Provenience did own were no longer there. Her mandolin had been taken with her. The bone carved comb she used to care for her hair was not in its usual place.

The dragon paused for a moment and sniffed the air. Although the cave was largely open to the elements through the hole that led to the perch above the village, the dragon could still smell two distinctly odd scents. Both of the scents reminded him of adrenaline and panic. He also smelled the fear and anger of his own Provenience. There had indeed been a fight in his chamber and his Provenience had stepped up to defend the chamber. The dragon closed his eyes for a second and mentally conjured up his magical power to perceive residual energy with his eyes. When he opened his eyes he noted that the room glowed faintly in several areas.

The dragon bellowed once more at this new discovery. “There has been magic used in my chamber?” The beast stopped for a moment and concentrated a bit harder to determine if the magic had been used recently enough to determine the strength or perhaps even the effect. Unfortunately for the great wyrm the power had faded too quickly and he had been gone too long.

The dragon thought on this for a few moments while he tried to piece together what had happened to him. The beast talked aloud to itself as it pieced together the events. “I have not been away long enough to have a powerful spell fade like that. The magical effects used must certainly have been a lowly spell. Such a spell my Provenience should have been able to overcome. And if it was a lowly spell it could not have been teleportation magic. A teleport would certainly have left a greater residual aura than this for the time that I have been gone.”

Immediately the draconic beast turned back to his perch. He looked down into the valley below, this time noting that the village was completely empty. The village was typically quiet during the day. Those able to hunt and gather food were usually away from the village and going about their chores. Those who worked with the plants and hides typically did their craft indoors to avoid the searing affects of the sun as much as possible. It was not unusual for the village to be quiet. But this time the village was more than quiet. It was abandoned.

The beast leapt off his perch and unfurled his large leathery wings. He had been caught so off guard by the emptiness of the village that he had forgotten to see if there were any residual magic traces upon his perch. Slowly the beast circled down to the ground. He caught what few air currents rose from the ground as the air warmed in order to gracefully descend to the ground. He slowed his descent and landed atop the horizontal sacrificial stone in the center of the village. The red wyrm brought his neck low enough to peer into the cage where Druff had been kept for so long.

Anger erupted inside the dragon. “Empty!” The dragon followed the yell with another tremendous roar. The cage did not appear to be damaged, so the dragon checked again for a residual magical aura. He was not disappointed to find that there was still a weak residual aura. This aura was also too weak to determine what effect had been in place and how long ago it was conjured into existence.

The dragon brought his scaly eyebrows down to reflect the boiling anger inside of him. As he thought, his eyes closed enough so that only the cat-like irises and the fiery red pupils could be seen between his upper and lower eyelid. “I do not like being tricked, and I promise to find out how this happened and make whoever is responsible pay!”

His warning was for nobody in particular. In truth, the dragon had hoped that there was someone left in the village that could be beaten into telling him what had transpired here. He also hoped that the perpetrators of this horrendous crime might be close enough to hear his threat. But there was no response to his threat of any sort.

Out of fury, the dragon began to breathe his fiery death onto the wood buildings that encircled the sacrificial stone. The wyrm was sure that as the buildings caught on fire the inhabitants would be forced to flee. Of course, the dragon knew that this truth depended upon if any villagers remained cowering in the village. The dragon watched the buildings burn until it was painfully obvious that nobody was left within the buildings. They burned quickly without anyone to fight against the flames.

It was then that the dragon noticed the path leading away to the mountains between Tongra and Quehalost. A large number of people had recently traveled along this path. It took no leap of reasoning to realize that the villagers had left a trail for him to follow. The trail was no doubt unintentional; but it was also impossible to avoid. They had given him a path to follow, and the path was easily enough followed from the air.

The dragon once more unfurled his wings and rose into the air where he could use his greater speed to his advantage. It wasn’t long before the dragon found himself in a three-month old feeling of deja vu. This was the identical path that he had used to chase down those who had stolen his last Provenience.

The dragon smiled smugly as it followed the path by air. “I found the villagers before. They were cowering and afraid. They will be no different this time. Yet this time I will not accept them back. They have earned their destruction at this show of rejection. I will enjoy slaughtering them as they come back to me begging for my protection. Then I will start completely anew.”
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Nov 20, 2006)

Inside the cavern underneath the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains, Charis, Rhema, and Xando were easily able to load up the most significant supplies with the people and move off in the direction of the main underground chamber.  The plan was to turn to another cavern that was large enough to hold the small community for a good amount of time.  They were packed and well on their way before the dragon appeared at the tunnel entrance.  Even with his ability to see in the vast underground darkness they were well out of range.  Frustrated by a lack of ability to either see their movements or follow them into the smaller cave entrance the dragon father attempted to use his innate magical ability to locate the villagers underground.  He found that effort equally unfruitful.  The villagers had escaped his grasp for now.

The great wyrm smiled grimly and continued to talk to himself as he boiled internally from his anger.  “I will wait them out as before.  The last time they fled my presence they could not manage a few days underground by themselves before they realized that they needed my protection.  They will return.  Once I have collected them all they will feel my wrath.”

The dragon was unaware that the ghostly figure looked on from the edge of the forest.  In truth, the ghostly figure was impressed at the dragon’s ability to show composure.  Red dragons were known much more for their fury and explosive wrath than they were for their patience.  It was this quality of impulsive wrath that the party had used against the dragon earlier to draw his attention away from the Provenience and the rest of the villagers.  Now, the dragon demonstrated great patience by not erupting into an immediate and vengeful wrath.

The wyrm unfurled his wings once more and took to the sky.  Although the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains were high, they were not so tall as to keep a dragon from being able to fly over them.  There were the occasional mountain peaks that stretched up into the sky which were tall enough to prevent flight over them on account of the air being too thin.  Only the cold-loving white dragons could survive in such conditions for very long.   These white dragons did not fly in the higher altitudes.  They were forced to the ground by the thinness of the air.  

This was not such a location, however.  The red wyrm had no trouble launching himself off of the ground.  Once he was into the air again, he found a mountainous pass that was low enough for him to fly to the other side.  Of course, the dragon knew that he dare not stay too long on the Tongra side of the mountains.  The southern reaches of Tongra were well known for their clusters of green dragons.  Few of these dragons would appreciate the intrusion of a single dominant red wyrm into their land.  Should he stay too long, the red wyrm would likely be forced back anyway.  

However, he was able to find a small perch atop the mountains that would allow him to occasionally view the Tongra side without intruding too close upon the territories of the green dragons.  The greens would not be too willing to challenge him in the mountain passes.  They were much more comfortable in the forests and fighting upon land than taking to the thinner air of the mountains.  From this perch he could watch the Tongra side of the mountain range and quickly fly back to the Quehalost side of the mountain range to observe the southern entrance to the underground tunnels that the villagers had used.  It was the perfect location to insure that the villagers did not move without his notice.

Back inside the underground tunnels, Rhema lead Charis and the rest of the village further into the depths of the mountain until she had found the chamber that she was looking for.  Ischarus had managed to verbally coach Charis in finding the way to the grand chamber, although Rhema did not need Charis’ help along the way very often.  This was the same chamber that Ischarus and Rhema typically used as a stopover point when they came into Quehalost.  

The chamber was easily defensible and had seldom been a place of confrontation as they used it to camp.  Ischarus had not been sure if it was far from any underground civilizations or if they had simply been lucky.  In either regard, it was the most likely candidate as a place to keep the villagers safe until Ischarus had found a way to deal with the red wyrm and his wrath.

The chamber was the better part of a day’s journey underground and Rhema only made a few wrong turns as they moved.  Fortunately, Rhema had Charis to draw upon and quickly realized that they had made an error in traversing the dark tunnels.  In spite of the long journey the trip was worth it to be free of the dragon father and his magical influences.  With the help of the villagers’ able and willing backs the group was able to bring a majority of the necessary supplies needed to last until the time when Ischarus should return.  Once they were set up within the main chamber, Charis and Xando could lead a small group back to the storage chamber in order to gather up the remainder of supplies.  It would take several trips, but there was no need to rush.

Thankfully, there were several reliable sources for drinking water within the mountain passages themselves.  Many of these water sources were near the main underground chamber.  None of the sources could be depended upon for great quantities of water.  So long as the people were not greedy, they could stave off illness, and everyone was willing to ration the supplies the availability of water would not be a problem.  One thing could be said about the availability of water around them.  This deep in the mountains the water could be counted on to be both pure and cold.

Charis and Rhema both knew the water supply issue was actually a benefit rather than a problem.  If they were going to be underground for even so long as a month, people would need jobs to do so that they could avoid even the slightest psychological disorder.  It would be hard enough to stay underground and buried from the light of the sun for such a long time without going insane.  If they could find enough tasks for the villagers to accomplish each and every day it would give them a sense of purpose and the ability to mark off time.  Unfortunately with Semeion’s absence it meant that providing light to accomplish these tasks would be more difficult than expected.  His magical ability to make light out of darkness would be sorely missed.

Once they arrived, Charis and Rhema gathered together with Druff and Xando to begin to set up the new underground village.  Charis looked to Druff and smiled.  He was clearly tired from the journey, but as the day moved on he found he could walk more and more and be carried less.  His body was still frail but it was welcoming the ability to stretch out and keep from being hunched up.  

Charis decided to address her old friend first.  “Druff, old friend.  You had protected both the village and me for so long before my new friends came and took me away to teach me in the ways of light.  Will you do the honor of helping me establish an order among the people as they set up camp so that the defense of this place will be easier?  It will need a fair amount of organization to accomplish such a task.”

Instantly Druff appeared to stand taller and regain the pride in his duty that Charis had remembered.  He replied, “Indeed I can, Charis.  It would be my honor to once again serve the people.”

Rhema looked to Xando and also smiled.  “Well, I suppose that leaves you and me to organize the supplies and gather the people into various work crews.  Is there any particular preference as to which job you would like, Xando?”

The tribal leader nodded and spoke with confidence.  “The people are more comfortable taking orders from me that you, simply because the trust is already established within my leadership.  Why don’t I organize the people into various work crews?  You deal with organizing and rationing the supplies.  The people will see the necessity of that task and accept your authority in that matter.  I am still the guide for these people, but you are the leader of this place.”

Rhema nodded in approval and replied.  “Sounds like as good of a plan as any, Xando.”

Charis turned away from Druff and looked to Rhema and Xando.  “Where are you planning on storing the supplies?  If we know that then Druff and I can direct the people to you as we go about advising the people on how to establish this temporary village.”

Rhema pointed to a small outcropping of rock above a smaller alcove off of the main chamber.  This was that customary sleeping area they used on the prior raids into and out of Quehalost.  “Direct the people toward that small outcropping of rock.  Just underneath is the small cave where we used to sleep.  It is protected on all sides and is a safe place to ensure our food stores are protected from any threat.”

Charis nodded and turned back to Druff.  “Shall we, then?  The people will no doubt be getting anxious soon.”

Duff nodded and began to walk the perimeter of the main chamber.  As he turned he spoke to Charis who walked beside him.  “They are tired after such a long and strenuous journey underground.”

Charis nodded.  “We all are, Druff.  We all are.  I think that most people will take the advice on where to set up camp with welcome.  At least down here in the caves we need not fear the elements of weather nor fear it becoming too cold or too hot.”

Druff replied as he smiled.  “Yeah.  Our biggest concerns will be light, water, and the occasional defense.  I’ve been thinking of asking for mandatory enlistment in defense classes.  If nothing else, it would give the people something to do while they were underground.  Perhaps Rhema could teach some of them her magic?”

Charis approved.  “Probably a wise precaution.  Rhema’s magic comes from her mind, however.  Her magic is not the same as Semeion’s or even our dragon father’s.  I do not know if it can even be taught.”

As the pair of Drakontai spoke, Xando and Rhema took up residence in the alcove at the rear of the cave.  Xando continued their discussion as Charis and Druff left.  “I suppose what I will need from you is a list of the duties that will be necessary for our survival.  Once I have those duties I can organize the people into teams and perhaps even shifts.  I suppose night and daytime will blur together underground?”

Rhema looked to Xando at the thought.  “Probably.  I suppose that means we should start by suggesting people vary their sleeping times.  If the people can shift their sleeping times we could guarantee that work is being accomplished and the defense of the chamber is ensured throughout the whole day.”

As Xando nodded in agreement she continued, “As for duties, I can think of three urgent needs that will begin once we have established camp.  Defense, water collection, and the occasional ride towards the storage cave to pick up another gathering of wood and other supplies that we left behind.  I imagine that there are mushrooms and other fungus that could be gathered to supplement the dried and cured food that we stored.  Each of the water and food teams that we send out should have a defense team with them as well.  We should not make a habit of traveling light in the tunnels.  Numbers will provide our biggest advantage.”

Xando listened intently and began formulating a list in his mind.  He was already dividing up the villagers into a duty roster.  The needs were simple in this temporary underground environment, but each job was vital to their survival.  As Druff and Charis made their rounds, slowly the people began to trickle in to deposit their supplies and receive their orders from Xando.  The emergency village was beginning to take shape.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Inside the cavern underneath the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains, Charis, Rhema, and Xando were easily able to load up the most significant supplies with the people and move off in the direction of the main underground chamber. The plan was to turn to another cavern that was large enough to hold the small community for a good amount of time. They were packed and well on their way before the dragon appeared at the tunnel entrance. Even with his ability to see in the vast underground darkness they were well out of range. Frustrated by a lack of ability to either see their movements or follow them into the smaller cave entrance the dragon father attempted to use his innate magical ability to locate the villagers underground. He found that effort equally unfruitful. The villagers had escaped his grasp for now.

The great wyrm smiled grimly and continued to talk to himself as he boiled internally from his anger. “I will wait them out as before. The last time they fled my presence they could not manage a few days underground by themselves before they realized that they needed my protection. They will return. Once I have collected them all they will feel my wrath.”

The dragon was unaware that the ghostly figure looked on from the edge of the forest. In truth, the ghostly figure was impressed at the dragon’s ability to show composure. Red dragons were known much more for their fury and explosive wrath than they were for their patience. It was this quality of impulsive wrath that the party had used against the dragon earlier to draw his attention away from the Provenience and the rest of the villagers. Now, the dragon demonstrated great patience by not erupting into an immediate and vengeful wrath.

The wyrm unfurled his wings once more and took to the sky. Although the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains were high, they were not so tall as to keep a dragon from being able to fly over them. There were the occasional mountain peaks that stretched up into the sky which were tall enough to prevent flight over them on account of the air being too thin. Only the cold-loving white dragons could survive in such conditions for very long. These white dragons did not fly in the higher altitudes. They were forced to the ground by the thinness of the air. 

This was not such a location, however. The red wyrm had no trouble launching himself off of the ground. Once he was into the air again, he found a mountainous pass that was low enough for him to fly to the other side. Of course, the dragon knew that he dare not stay too long on the Tongra side of the mountains. The southern reaches of Tongra were well known for their clusters of green dragons. Few of these dragons would appreciate the intrusion of a single dominant red wyrm into their land. Should he stay too long, the red wyrm would likely be forced back anyway. 

However, he was able to find a small perch atop the mountains that would allow him to occasionally view the Tongra side without intruding too close upon the territories of the green dragons. The greens would not be too willing to challenge him in the mountain passes. They were much more comfortable in the forests and fighting upon land than taking to the thinner air of the mountains. From this perch he could watch the Tongra side of the mountain range and quickly fly back to the Quehalost side of the mountain range to observe the southern entrance to the underground tunnels that the villagers had used. It was the perfect location to insure that the villagers did not move without his notice.

Back inside the underground tunnels, Rhema lead Charis and the rest of the village further into the depths of the mountain until she had found the chamber that she was looking for. Ischarus had managed to verbally coach Charis in finding the way to the grand chamber, although Rhema did not need Charis’ help along the way very often. This was the same chamber that Ischarus and Rhema typically used as a stopover point when they came into Quehalost. 

The chamber was easily defensible and had seldom been a place of confrontation as they used it to camp. Ischarus had not been sure if it was far from any underground civilizations or if they had simply been lucky. In either regard, it was the most likely candidate as a place to keep the villagers safe until Ischarus had found a way to deal with the red wyrm and his wrath.

The chamber was the better part of a day’s journey underground and Rhema only made a few wrong turns as they moved. Fortunately, Rhema had Charis to draw upon and quickly realized that they had made an error in traversing the dark tunnels. In spite of the long journey the trip was worth it to be free of the dragon father and his magical influences. With the help of the villagers’ able and willing backs the group was able to bring a majority of the necessary supplies needed to last until the time when Ischarus should return. Once they were set up within the main chamber, Charis and Xando could lead a small group back to the storage chamber in order to gather up the remainder of supplies. It would take several trips, but there was no need to rush.

Thankfully, there were several reliable sources for drinking water within the mountain passages themselves. Many of these water sources were near the main underground chamber. None of the sources could be depended upon for great quantities of water. So long as the people were not greedy, they could stave off illness, and everyone was willing to ration the supplies the availability of water would not be a problem. One thing could be said about the availability of water around them. This deep in the mountains the water could be counted on to be both pure and cold.

Charis and Rhema both knew the water supply issue was actually a benefit rather than a problem. If they were going to be underground for even so long as a month, people would need jobs to do so that they could avoid even the slightest psychological disorder. It would be hard enough to stay underground and buried from the light of the sun for such a long time without going insane. If they could find enough tasks for the villagers to accomplish each and every day it would give them a sense of purpose and the ability to mark off time. Unfortunately with Semeion’s absence it meant that providing light to accomplish these tasks would be more difficult than expected. His magical ability to make light out of darkness would be sorely missed.

Once they arrived, Charis and Rhema gathered together with Druff and Xando to begin to set up the new underground village. Charis looked to Druff and smiled. He was clearly tired from the journey, but as the day moved on he found he could walk more and more and be carried less. His body was still frail but it was welcoming the ability to stretch out and keep from being hunched up. 

Charis decided to address her old friend first. “Druff, old friend. You had protected both the village and me for so long before my new friends came and took me away to teach me in the ways of light. Will you do the honor of helping me establish an order among the people as they set up camp so that the defense of this place will be easier? It will need a fair amount of organization to accomplish such a task.”

Instantly Druff appeared to stand taller and regain the pride in his duty that Charis had remembered. He replied, “Indeed I can, Charis. It would be my honor to once again serve the people.”

Rhema looked to Xando and also smiled. “Well, I suppose that leaves you and me to organize the supplies and gather the people into various work crews. Is there any particular preference as to which job you would like, Xando?”

The tribal leader nodded and spoke with confidence. “The people are more comfortable taking orders from me that you, simply because the trust is already established within my leadership. Why don’t I organize the people into various work crews? You deal with organizing and rationing the supplies. The people will see the necessity of that task and accept your authority in that matter. I am still the guide for these people, but you are the leader of this place.”

Rhema nodded in approval and replied. “Sounds like as good of a plan as any, Xando.”

Charis turned away from Druff and looked to Rhema and Xando. “Where are you planning on storing the supplies? If we know that then Druff and I can direct the people to you as we go about advising the people on how to establish this temporary village.”

Rhema pointed to a small outcropping of rock above a smaller alcove off of the main chamber. This was that customary sleeping area they used on the prior raids into and out of Quehalost. “Direct the people toward that small outcropping of rock. Just underneath is the small cave where we used to sleep. It is protected on all sides and is a safe place to ensure our food stores are protected from any threat.”

Charis nodded and turned back to Druff. “Shall we, then? The people will no doubt be getting anxious soon.”

Duff nodded and began to walk the perimeter of the main chamber. As he turned he spoke to Charis who walked beside him. “They are tired after such a long and strenuous journey underground.”

Charis nodded. “We all are, Druff. We all are. I think that most people will take the advice on where to set up camp with welcome. At least down here in the caves we need not fear the elements of weather nor fear it becoming too cold or too hot.”

Druff replied as he smiled. “Yeah. Our biggest concerns will be light, water, and the occasional defense. I’ve been thinking of asking for mandatory enlistment in defense classes. If nothing else, it would give the people something to do while they were underground. Perhaps Rhema could teach some of them her magic?”

Charis approved. “Probably a wise precaution. Rhema’s magic comes from her mind, however. Her magic is not the same as Semeion’s or even our dragon father’s. I do not know if it can even be taught.”

As the pair of Drakontai spoke, Xando and Rhema took up residence in the alcove at the rear of the cave. Xando continued their discussion as Charis and Druff left. “I suppose what I will need from you is a list of the duties that will be necessary for our survival. Once I have those duties I can organize the people into teams and perhaps even shifts. I suppose night and daytime will blur together underground?”

Rhema looked to Xando at the thought. “Probably. I suppose that means we should start by suggesting people vary their sleeping times. If the people can shift their sleeping times we could guarantee that work is being accomplished and the defense of the chamber is ensured throughout the whole day.”

As Xando nodded in agreement she continued, “As for duties, I can think of three urgent needs that will begin once we have established camp. Defense, water collection, and the occasional ride towards the storage cave to pick up another gathering of wood and other supplies that we left behind. I imagine that there are mushrooms and other fungus that could be gathered to supplement the dried and cured food that we stored. Each of the water and food teams that we send out should have a defense team with them as well. We should not make a habit of traveling light in the tunnels. Numbers will provide our biggest advantage.”

Xando listened intently and began formulating a list in his mind. He was already dividing up the villagers into a duty roster. The needs were simple in this temporary underground environment, but each job was vital to their survival. As Druff and Charis made their rounds, slowly the people began to trickle in to deposit their supplies and receive their orders from Xando. The emergency village was beginning to take shape.
 [/Sblock]


----------



## Mahtave (Nov 20, 2006)

I have been reading this for a while now, excellent read.  I would like to mention that I like the colors.  Now of course I am at the end and I have to wait.....


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Nov 20, 2006)

*REPLY to READER, not an update ...*



			
				Mahtave said:
			
		

> I have been reading this for a while now, excellent read.




Thank you, I am glad you are enjoying it.  I've been a bit disappointed my updates haven't been as regular the past few weeks as I wanted, but life tends to get busy.     But, thanks for sticking with the story and continuing to read!



			
				Mahtave said:
			
		

> Now of course I am at the end and I have to wait.....




Well, I will give you a piece of insider information and say that there is a post coming that is two or three away that will make your wait well worth it.      Of course, the next few posts will hopefully be worth it as well, but as a teaser I'll let you know that something is coming that'll hopefully be beyond cool!


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Nov 21, 2006)

The next few days passed by reasonably well for the villagers underground.  In spite of their father dragon’s enormous range of powers and fearsome abilities in bringing devastating destruction to the surface, the dragon found that there was little he could do in the given situation.  He could not locate his villagers through any magical means and he knew that he didn’t have the ability to alter his form for long enough to make it worthwhile.  So long as the villagers stayed within the confines of the tunnels, withstood the danger of starvation, and fended off the limited attacks by the gnolls and kobolds they would be safe.

The villagers didn’t do much work the first few days.  This was an intentional decision made by Charis, Rhema, Druff, and Xando.  The people were extensively trained in the ways of combat and water collection.  The rest of the time they were encouraged to rest and get to know their working cohorts.  Xando argued that the people would need a few days to allow the decision of leaving to sink in.  The people would need a few days to accept the decision that would change the rest of their lives.

Rhema and Charis did not argue this decision.  The last day had been filled with so much work that they had not had time to grieve the loss of Semeion.  Rhema knew that his loss was constantly in her mind and could only imagine the effort that Charis expended in maintaining her composure.  The days off would allow the grieving process to begin at the very least.

On the third day, Charis and Druff decided that it was time to head back to the small alcove they had originally used as a storage area just inside the tunnel entrance.  They called together the eight men and women who had been selected for this purpose and headed back to the alcove.  They were heavily armed as they moved.  Charis carried her heavy pick and loaned her double-headed war hammer to Druff.  The villagers were armed with makeshift clubs.  A few of the villagers had been enterprising enough over the past two days of resting to fashion a few makeshift flint axes rather than using the improvised clubs.  This resourcefulness impressed Rhema and caused pride to swell within Charis, Druff, and Xando.

Charis’ party for retrieving firewood and other supplies made several trips to the alcove and back.  Each trip took about a full day to make.  They were able to move more quickly than when they had the whole village traveling with them because they were smaller in number and well prepared for travel.  They also understood the urgency about the time spent away.  While they were away from the rest of the villagers both they and the makeshift village was more vulnerable.

The water collection and defense crews also began to work as Charis’ team traveled back and forth to retrieve supplies.  Occasionally the teams were challenged by gnoll and kobold scouting parties, but Charis had been right in her earlier assessment.  The teams that went out were no fewer than eight members with four members devoted to nothing except defense of the party.  What resistance the teams did meet largely ran from them on account of being obviously outnumbered against the well prepared villagers.

At the end of the first week the leaders of this underground venture were pleased with the progress of the people.  The people were struggling against the effects of depression as much as could be expected, but none of them seemed to be in danger of succumbing to its effects.  Considering that none of them had seen the sun in seven days the people were in remarkable spirits.  In truth, few of them had thought they would last this long.

The food rationing was also going well.  In fact, even the new Provenience seemed to begin to embrace the fact that her dragon father was not the ultimate answer that she thought he was.  While none of the village leaders were willing to let the new Provenience stray outside the limits of the makeshift village, they were pleased when she demonstrated interest in learning the art of defensive fighting and even taking part in the water rationing process.  Rhema discovered that the new Provenience was a natural leader and the two began to strike up a fair friendship as they worked the food and water distribution together.

As good as things were going within the underground village, on the eighth day of their stay below the mountain there was a slight disruption at the Quehalost entrance to the tunnel.  The disruption went unnoticed by those so deep within the mountain.  There were more than a few who were even aware that anything was happening on the surface at all.

At the entrance of the tunnel, there was only the smallest of activity happening.  To be fair, this was more activity than had taken place since the entire village had been swallowed up into the bowels of the earth.  The dragon father had been watching the entrance to each of the tunnels like a hawk and his presence kept the large majority of the natural wildlife out of the immediate area.

Although the light-gray figure was unable to join the villagers underground, that very fact didn’t imply that the ghostly figure had abandoned the plight of the Drakontai village.  There was nothing in Quehalost that held him in this evil land except the fact that he couldn’t leave.  In fact, nothing even gave him a purpose to go through the day besides the cause of these villagers.  

He knew he couldn’t challenge the dragon upfront, but he certainly could watch the entrance and do what he little was possible at this point.  Being a ghostly figure he had the advantage of needing neither food, water, nor even shelter from the outside elements.  He could be an ever vigilant guard and protect the rear of the villagers from an outside threat.  Certainly there were limits to what the figure could accomplish, but it made his unfortunate inability to move on after his death to still have some kind of purpose.

Another advantage the light-gray figure had over anyone that would come to challenge this area was the fact that he wasn’t limited by the physical laws of the world.  The gray figure quickly realized that if he stood out in the open to protect the entrance then the dragon would be able to spot him.  The first two days the figure stood vigilantly within the rock to the left of the entrance.  When fully enclosed in the rock he could not see outside; but it took little time at all to learn how to allow his face to be les than a quarter of an inch outside the rock.  At that distance his face was hardly noticeable at all, especially considering the great height from which the red wyrm above was observing the entrance.

The light gray figure didn’t stay satisfied with that particular arrangement for long, however.  The rock entrance was over thirty feet from the nearest tree at the edge of the forest and that implied that he was largely alone without even the movement of the forest animals to keep him company within the rock face.  After a few lonely days within the rock the light gray figure grew more comfortable at the realization that the dragon was content to wait.  The figure emerged out of the rock and took up residence in one of the trees at the forest edge.  From the tree he could see the entrance just as well, but within the trees he had the ability to be hidden by the leaves above him and thus was less concerned about hiding from the dragon father.  The animals of the forest still did not come near his ghostly form, but he could at least be amused by the few remaining birds and squirrels as they jumped among the rest of the trees.

It was on the eighth day of his vigilant guard that the light gray figure heard someone approaching from deeper within the forest.  The man walked with a severe limp and his cloak was pulled up over his head.  He was walking carefully, staying to the areas hidden by the thickest canopy as much as possible.  As he approached the cave entrance he paused for a second, not trusting the open area between the forest edge and the entrance into the underground cavern.  The man crouched to the ground and ran his finger over what was left of a footprint left by one of the villagers eight days ago.

Seemingly pleased that he had located a footprint, the figure rose and once more looked up toward the rock face.  His eyes looked as high as he could possibly see without revealing his position from under the trees.  The unknown figure mumbled something as he looked up, but the light-gray figure was unable to make out the sound into distinguishable speech.  It was at least clear that the unknown figure knew to expect the dragon high upon the mountainous overlook.

The man shifted in his position and looked as though he were testing the nimbleness of his legs.  As he picked up his left leg he winced and his hands immediately turned down to his leg to massage the pain.  The shoulders of the man’s cloak rose as he returned his foot to the ground and breathed in deeply.  A grand sigh followed the deep breath and he stepped forward towards the open ground.

The light-gray figure spoke confidently before the man could step completely into the open.  The ghostly face had emerged from the nearby tree a short quarter of an inch. “I’d be careful about going into that space if I were you.”

The unknown figure turned suddenly towards the voice, obviously surprised.  He pulled the edge of his cloak hood back slightly to allow him a good look around.  The light-gray figure could now see the lower half of the man’s face.  A smile had appeared upon the ghostly figure’s lips.  His face had a good growth of facial hair on as much as the light-gray figure could see.  The ghostly figure inexplicably felt an instant ease purveyed by the body language of the unknown man.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
The next few days passed by reasonably well for the villagers underground. In spite of their father dragon’s enormous range of powers and fearsome abilities in bringing devastating destruction to the surface, the dragon found that there was little he could do in the given situation. He could not locate his villagers through any magical means and he knew that he didn’t have the ability to alter his form for long enough to make it worthwhile. So long as the villagers stayed within the confines of the tunnels, withstood the danger of starvation, and fended off the limited attacks by the gnolls and kobolds they would be safe.

The villagers didn’t do much work the first few days. This was an intentional decision made by Charis, Rhema, Druff, and Xando. The people were extensively trained in the ways of combat and water collection. The rest of the time they were encouraged to rest and get to know their working cohorts. Xando argued that the people would need a few days to allow the decision of leaving to sink in. The people would need a few days to accept the decision that would change the rest of their lives.

Rhema and Charis did not argue this decision. The last day had been filled with so much work that they had not had time to grieve the loss of Semeion. Rhema knew that his loss was constantly in her mind and could only imagine the effort that Charis expended in maintaining her composure. The days off would allow the grieving process to begin at the very least.

On the third day, Charis and Druff decided that it was time to head back to the small alcove they had originally used as a storage area just inside the tunnel entrance. They called together the eight men and women who had been selected for this purpose and headed back to the alcove. They were heavily armed as they moved. Charis carried her heavy pick and loaned her double-headed war hammer to Druff. The villagers were armed with makeshift clubs. A few of the villagers had been enterprising enough over the past two days of resting to fashion a few makeshift flint axes rather than using the improvised clubs. This resourcefulness impressed Rhema and caused pride to swell within Charis, Druff, and Xando.

Charis’ party for retrieving firewood and other supplies made several trips to the alcove and back. Each trip took about a full day to make. They were able to move more quickly than when they had the whole village traveling with them because they were smaller in number and well prepared for travel. They also understood the urgency about the time spent away. While they were away from the rest of the villagers both they and the makeshift village was more vulnerable.

The water collection and defense crews also began to work as Charis’ team traveled back and forth to retrieve supplies. Occasionally the teams were challenged by gnoll and kobold scouting parties, but Charis had been right in her earlier assessment. The teams that went out were no fewer than eight members with four members devoted to nothing except defense of the party. What resistance the teams did meet largely ran from them on account of being obviously outnumbered against the well prepared villagers.

At the end of the first week the leaders of this underground venture were pleased with the progress of the people. The people were struggling against the effects of depression as much as could be expected, but none of them seemed to be in danger of succumbing to its effects. Considering that none of them had seen the sun in seven days the people were in remarkable spirits. In truth, few of them had thought they would last this long.

The food rationing was also going well. In fact, even the new Provenience seemed to begin to embrace the fact that her dragon father was not the ultimate answer that she thought he was. While none of the village leaders were willing to let the new Provenience stray outside the limits of the makeshift village, they were pleased when she demonstrated interest in learning the art of defensive fighting and even taking part in the water rationing process. Rhema discovered that the new Provenience was a natural leader and the two began to strike up a fair friendship as they worked the food and water distribution together.

As good as things were going within the underground village, on the eighth day of their stay below the mountain there was a slight disruption at the Quehalost entrance to the tunnel. The disruption went unnoticed by those so deep within the mountain. There were more than a few who were even aware that anything was happening on the surface at all.

At the entrance of the tunnel, there was only the smallest of activity happening. To be fair, this was more activity than had taken place since the entire village had been swallowed up into the bowels of the earth. The dragon father had been watching the entrance to each of the tunnels like a hawk and his presence kept the large majority of the natural wildlife out of the immediate area.

Although the light-gray figure was unable to join the villagers underground, that very fact didn’t imply that the ghostly figure had abandoned the plight of the Drakontai village. There was nothing in Quehalost that held him in this evil land except the fact that he couldn’t leave. In fact, nothing even gave him a purpose to go through the day besides the cause of these villagers. 

He knew he couldn’t challenge the dragon upfront, but he certainly could watch the entrance and do what he little was possible at this point. Being a ghostly figure he had the advantage of needing neither food, water, nor even shelter from the outside elements. He could be an ever vigilant guard and protect the rear of the villagers from an outside threat. Certainly there were limits to what the figure could accomplish, but it made his unfortunate inability to move on after his death to still have some kind of purpose.

Another advantage the light-gray figure had over anyone that would come to challenge this area was the fact that he wasn’t limited by the physical laws of the world. The gray figure quickly realized that if he stood out in the open to protect the entrance then the dragon would be able to spot him. The first two days the figure stood vigilantly within the rock to the left of the entrance. When fully enclosed in the rock he could not see outside; but it took little time at all to learn how to allow his face to be les than a quarter of an inch outside the rock. At that distance his face was hardly noticeable at all, especially considering the great height from which the red wyrm above was observing the entrance.

The light gray figure didn’t stay satisfied with that particular arrangement for long, however. The rock entrance was over thirty feet from the nearest tree at the edge of the forest and that implied that he was largely alone without even the movement of the forest animals to keep him company within the rock face. After a few lonely days within the rock the light gray figure grew more comfortable at the realization that the dragon was content to wait. The figure emerged out of the rock and took up residence in one of the trees at the forest edge. From the tree he could see the entrance just as well, but within the trees he had the ability to be hidden by the leaves above him and thus was less concerned about hiding from the dragon father. The animals of the forest still did not come near his ghostly form, but he could at least be amused by the few remaining birds and squirrels as they jumped among the rest of the trees.

It was on the eighth day of his vigilant guard that the light gray figure heard someone approaching from deeper within the forest. The man walked with a severe limp and his cloak was pulled up over his head. He was walking carefully, staying to the areas hidden by the thickest canopy as much as possible. As he approached the cave entrance he paused for a second, not trusting the open area between the forest edge and the entrance into the underground cavern. The man crouched to the ground and ran his finger over what was left of a footprint left by one of the villagers eight days ago.

Seemingly pleased that he had located a footprint, the figure rose and once more looked up toward the rock face. His eyes looked as high as he could possibly see without revealing his position from under the trees. The unknown figure mumbled something as he looked up, but the light-gray figure was unable to make out the sound into distinguishable speech. It was at least clear that the unknown figure knew to expect the dragon high upon the mountainous overlook.

The man shifted in his position and looked as though he were testing the nimbleness of his legs. As he picked up his left leg he winced and his hands immediately turned down to his leg to massage the pain. The shoulders of the man’s cloak rose as he returned his foot to the ground and breathed in deeply. A grand sigh followed the deep breath and he stepped forward towards the open ground.

The light-gray figure spoke confidently before the man could step completely into the open. The ghostly face had emerged from the nearby tree a short quarter of an inch. “I’d be careful about going into that space if I were you.”

The unknown figure turned suddenly towards the voice, obviously surprised. He pulled the edge of his cloak hood back slightly to allow him a good look around. The light-gray figure could now see the lower half of the man’s face. A smile had appeared upon the ghostly figure’s lips. His face had a good growth of facial hair on as much as the light-gray figure could see. The ghostly figure inexplicably felt an instant ease purveyed by the body language of the unknown man.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Nov 25, 2006)

The unknown man smiled a little more broadly as his mind began to put together what was happening around him.  The more the man smiled, the more the light-gray figure struggled to grasp exactly what was going on around him.  He had expected to startle the man, but instead it felt as though it was himself that was being startled.  Considering that the light-gray figure was a ghost and there was little on the face of the earth that could affect him, he considered being startled quite the significant event.

The unknown man spoke softly to the light-gray figure.  “I figured that you’d be under the mountain by now.  I assume everything is going well down there?”

The friendliness of the speech took the light-gray figure completely by surprise.  Of course, the fact that the man seemed to know about the plan also took him by surprise.  At the worst, this could be some kind of ploy from the dragon father to get him to reveal some sort of truth about the plan.  The light-gray figure decided that it would be best to play it safe.  “I honestly don’t what you are talking about.  Why would I be under the mountain with the huge spiders and the gnolls?”

The man spoke softly with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.  “Oh, come now.  You are telling me that you are simply hanging around this mountain cave for absolutely no reason at all?”

The light-gray figure eased out of the tree an inch more.  The figure’s complete face appeared just over the edge of the tree bark.  “I’m hanging around these parts because it is impossible for me to go any further!”

This revelation shocked the man who had come upon the entrance so cautiously.  The man reached up and jerked his hood back so that he could get a good look at the ghostly figure.  As he did so, he exclaimed in a slightly elevated voice.  “You mean you can’t even go under the mountains?”

As the light-gray figure saw the man pull back his hood he recognized him immediately.  “Semeion?  What in the world are you still doing out of the cave?  If the red wyrm were to find you out here he’d kill you on the spot!”

Semeion smiled grimly.  There was a clear hint of dark playfulness in his expression.  “He needs to catch me first.  I’ve been outside the mountain tunnel for a while now and the dragon father has not yet found me.  I highly doubt the dragon father even knows of my existence.”

The ghostly figure completely emerged from the tree.  Rather than imitate walking, the light-gray figure floated an inch above the ground until he was only a matter of feet away from Semeion.  “Even so, don’t you think you are tempting fate a bit by being here?  And didn’t I notice a limp as you approached?  Your leg looked rather tender as you came along the trail.”

Semeion looked down to his leg and then back up to the ghostly figure.  “I’ll manage.  I’ve survived for long enough out here.  I can survive a bit longer.  But you are still avoiding my original question.  You cannot join us under the tunnels?”

The light-gray figure shook his head slowly from side to side.  “The same magic that prevents me from leaving Quehalost is keeping me from entering the tunnels.  I will not be joining you all even while you wait for the proper time to leave.”

Semeion looked back to the tunnel and then back to the light-gray figure.  “I am sorry.”  Semeion wasn’t really sure what else could be said.

The light-gray figure smiled at Semeion’s attempt to empathize with him.  “Don’t worry about it.  I’ve spent long enough in this forsaken land.  It’ll be less than a month from now and you all should return my possessions to my father.  Then my time to leave will come.  I can wait that long.”  After speaking, the ghostly figure looked long and hard toward the tunnel entrance.

Semeion smiled in return.  “I admire your patience.”  The young mage’s face revealed that he could think of little else to say that would be meaningful at a time such as this.

The light-gray figure continued to look into the tunnel.  “You never told me why you have the limp.  But in all honesty, you’ve likely been here talking to me for long enough.  Your luck will likely run out soon.  I’d recommend you get moving.”

Semeion likewise turned to look at the cave entrance.  He knew that freedom and life were represented by the coolness and darkness of the tunnel.  He also knew that the tunnel represented freedom for the light-gray figure as well.  “We’ll make your sacrifice worth it.  I’ll rest easier knowing that you are watching out for our backs on this end.”  He stepped to the tunnel.

The light-gray figure watched Ischarus as he approached the cave.  “I’d recommend running, personally.  The dragon father watches this entrance like a hawk.  You not only need to cross the open area, but you also need to make sure that you get far enough down that tunnel to avoid the effects of his breath.  After this many days, I’d expect his wrath to know little fury if he sees you.  You’re going to catch the brunt of eight days of wrath in a very short span of time unless you hurry.”

Semeion breathed in deeply, knowing that his leg wouldn’t support the faster movement for very long.  The catch was wondering how long his leg would hold out.  The injury was serious, but not serious to prevent movement when not under duress.  There was no telling how long the leg would last if it was put under the stress of running.

Semeion breathed in deeply and closed his eyes for a second.  He wouldn’t make it far enough into the tunnel with a simple walk if the dragon father was watching.  He would have to move with a greater speed than he desired.  He looked back to the light-gray figure and watched the ghostly image meld back into the confines of the tree.  Once the figure had everything hidden except for his eyes and nose within the flesh of the tree Semeion began to sprint towards the tunnel.

As he took his first step towards freedom he thought of Charis.  He had often thought of Charis and how she must have missed him over the last week.  In fact, he assumed that she had mourned his loss.  He would enjoy proving her assumption false.

As he stepped out of the forest he heard the deep draconic cry come from high above the mountain pass.  He had grown familiar with the cry from hearing it several times in the past week and a half, both before and after the village had been abandoned.  Yet as he heard the draconic cry he could feel his leg giving out.  Semeion crashed to the ground as a sharp pain surged up his broken leg.

Instantly his mind brought him back several months.  For an instant Semeion was no longer in Quehalost as a freedom fighter.  Once more Semeion was back upon the grassy hill where he watched his master die at the hands of the green dragon.  As Semeion crashed down to the earth he rolled over onto his backside.  Despite straining for an instant to look up into the sky Semeion could not see the red wyrm diving towards him from a great height.  He knew dragon eyesight was better than that of a human, however.  There could be no doubt that the dragon saw him stumble.

Semeion bit lightly into his lip as he rolled himself over.  The pain from his now bleeding lip helped him ignore the throbbing pain he felt in his leg.  Semeion lifted himself onto his good foot and began once again to make for the cave entrance.  The pain was great, but the fear of dying was now even greater.  Semeion endured the pain and as quickly as he could he hobbled to the cave entrance.

Semeion made it to the tunnel entrance before the dragon could land upon the ground.  He had made it past the first major hazard.  If he was going to die, he would die at the hands of the fiery breath of the dragon father.  At least he wouldn’t be impaled from a dragon falling from a great height.  Semeion chuckled to himself knowing that there was little consolation in dying by fire over dying by impalement.

Once he was inside the tunnel entrance, Semeion appreciated the support of the cool rock walls.  With the rock to lean upon, Semeion could hobble along faster than in the open ground between the tunnel and the forest.  When he was about twenty feet into the tunnel he heard the thunder of the ground shaking.  The heavy weight of the dragon landing upon the solid ground sent shockwaves through the surrounding area.  The roar of the beast echoed ominously from behind him.  Semeion’s pace quickened, but pain continued to shoot through his foot.

The dragon peered into the tunnel with its ability to see into darkness.  The beast saw that Semeion was rapidly fleeing down the tunnel.  Much of this journey converged upon this single moment for Semeion.  The red wyrm knew that time was running short and he breathed in deeply to make the most of what little time remained.  When the beast exhaled the air was ignited in flame.  The shockwave of heat expanding the air around the breath hit Semeion from the back and forced him forward onto his face.

The dragon waited for a few seconds until the flames and the heat died down within the tunnel.  Looking once more into the cave the dragon saw that Semeion was laying on the floor without any sign of movement.  The dragon pulled his head back in a proud statement of his ego.  “When they see what I have done to this one they will all come back to me out of fear.  And I will kill them all.”

The dragon looked once more into the cave to gloat over his first small but meaningful victory.  To his surprise Semeion was no longer laying on the floor where he expected him.  In fact, Semeion had vanished entirely.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
The unknown man smiled a little more broadly as his mind began to put together what was happening around him. The more the man smiled, the more the light-gray figure struggled to grasp exactly what was going on around him. He had expected to startle the man, but instead it felt as though it was himself that was being startled. Considering that the light-gray figure was a ghost and there was little on the face of the earth that could affect him, he considered being startled quite the significant event.

The unknown man spoke softly to the light-gray figure. “I figured that you’d be under the mountain by now. I assume everything is going well down there?”

The friendliness of the speech took the light-gray figure completely by surprise. Of course, the fact that the man seemed to know about the plan also took him by surprise. At the worst, this could be some kind of ploy from the dragon father to get him to reveal some sort of truth about the plan. The light-gray figure decided that it would be best to play it safe. “I honestly don’t what you are talking about. Why would I be under the mountain with the huge spiders and the gnolls?”

The man spoke softly with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Oh, come now. You are telling me that you are simply hanging around this mountain cave for absolutely no reason at all?”

The light-gray figure eased out of the tree an inch more. The figure’s complete face appeared just over the edge of the tree bark. “I’m hanging around these parts because it is impossible for me to go any further!”

This revelation shocked the man who had come upon the entrance so cautiously. The man reached up and jerked his hood back so that he could get a good look at the ghostly figure. As he did so, he exclaimed in a slightly elevated voice. “You mean you can’t even go under the mountains?”

As the light-gray figure saw the man pull back his hood he recognized him immediately. “Semeion? What in the world are you still doing out of the cave? If the red wyrm were to find you out here he’d kill you on the spot!”

Semeion smiled grimly. There was a clear hint of dark playfulness in his expression. “He needs to catch me first. I’ve been outside the mountain tunnel for a while now and the dragon father has not yet found me. I highly doubt the dragon father even knows of my existence.”

The ghostly figure completely emerged from the tree. Rather than imitate walking, the light-gray figure floated an inch above the ground until he was only a matter of feet away from Semeion. “Even so, don’t you think you are tempting fate a bit by being here? And didn’t I notice a limp as you approached? Your leg looked rather tender as you came along the trail.”

Semeion looked down to his leg and then back up to the ghostly figure. “I’ll manage. I’ve survived for long enough out here. I can survive a bit longer. But you are still avoiding my original question. You cannot join us under the tunnels?”

The light-gray figure shook his head slowly from side to side. “The same magic that prevents me from leaving Quehalost is keeping me from entering the tunnels. I will not be joining you all even while you wait for the proper time to leave.”

Semeion looked back to the tunnel and then back to the light-gray figure. “I am sorry.” Semeion wasn’t really sure what else could be said.

The light-gray figure smiled at Semeion’s attempt to empathize with him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve spent long enough in this forsaken land. It’ll be less than a month from now and you all should return my possessions to my father. Then my time to leave will come. I can wait that long.” After speaking, the ghostly figure looked long and hard toward the tunnel entrance.

Semeion smiled in return. “I admire your patience.” The young mage’s face revealed that he could think of little else to say that would be meaningful at a time such as this.

The light-gray figure continued to look into the tunnel. “You never told me why you have the limp. But in all honesty, you’ve likely been here talking to me for long enough. Your luck will likely run out soon. I’d recommend you get moving.”

Semeion likewise turned to look at the cave entrance. He knew that freedom and life were represented by the coolness and darkness of the tunnel. He also knew that the tunnel represented freedom for the light-gray figure as well. “We’ll make your sacrifice worth it. I’ll rest easier knowing that you are watching out for our backs on this end.” He stepped to the tunnel.

The light-gray figure watched Ischarus as he approached the cave. “I’d recommend running, personally. The dragon father watches this entrance like a hawk. You not only need to cross the open area, but you also need to make sure that you get far enough down that tunnel to avoid the effects of his breath. After this many days, I’d expect his wrath to know little fury if he sees you. You’re going to catch the brunt of eight days of wrath in a very short span of time unless you hurry.”

Semeion breathed in deeply, knowing that his leg wouldn’t support the faster movement for very long. The catch was wondering how long his leg would hold out. The injury was serious, but not serious to prevent movement when not under duress. There was no telling how long the leg would last if it was put under the stress of running.

Semeion breathed in deeply and closed his eyes for a second. He wouldn’t make it far enough into the tunnel with a simple walk if the dragon father was watching. He would have to move with a greater speed than he desired. He looked back to the light-gray figure and watched the ghostly image meld back into the confines of the tree. Once the figure had everything hidden except for his eyes and nose within the flesh of the tree Semeion began to sprint towards the tunnel.

As he took his first step towards freedom he thought of Charis. He had often thought of Charis and how she must have missed him over the last week. In fact, he assumed that she had mourned his loss. He would enjoy proving her assumption false.

As he stepped out of the forest he heard the deep draconic cry come from high above the mountain pass. He had grown familiar with the cry from hearing it several times in the past week and a half, both before and after the village had been abandoned. Yet as he heard the draconic cry he could feel his leg giving out. Semeion crashed to the ground as a sharp pain surged up his broken leg.

Instantly his mind brought him back several months. For an instant Semeion was no longer in Quehalost as a freedom fighter. Once more Semeion was back upon the grassy hill where he watched his master die at the hands of the green dragon. As Semeion crashed down to the earth he rolled over onto his backside. Despite straining for an instant to look up into the sky Semeion could not see the red wyrm diving towards him from a great height. He knew dragon eyesight was better than that of a human, however. There could be no doubt that the dragon saw him stumble.

Semeion bit lightly into his lip as he rolled himself over. The pain from his now bleeding lip helped him ignore the throbbing pain he felt in his leg. Semeion lifted himself onto his good foot and began once again to make for the cave entrance. The pain was great, but the fear of dying was now even greater. Semeion endured the pain and as quickly as he could he hobbled to the cave entrance.

Semeion made it to the tunnel entrance before the dragon could land upon the ground. He had made it past the first major hazard. If he was going to die, he would die at the hands of the fiery breath of the dragon father. At least he wouldn’t be impaled from a dragon falling from a great height. Semeion chuckled to himself knowing that there was little consolation in dying by fire over dying by impalement.

Once he was inside the tunnel entrance, Semeion appreciated the support of the cool rock walls. With the rock to lean upon, Semeion could hobble along faster than in the open ground between the tunnel and the forest. When he was about twenty feet into the tunnel he heard the thunder of the ground shaking. The heavy weight of the dragon landing upon the solid ground sent shockwaves through the surrounding area. The roar of the beast echoed ominously from behind him. Semeion’s pace quickened, but pain continued to shoot through his foot.

The dragon peered into the tunnel with its ability to see into darkness. The beast saw that Semeion was rapidly fleeing down the tunnel. Much of this journey converged upon this single moment for Semeion. The red wyrm knew that time was running short and he breathed in deeply to make the most of what little time remained. When the beast exhaled the air was ignited in flame. The shockwave of heat expanding the air around the breath hit Semeion from the back and forced him forward onto his face.

The dragon waited for a few seconds until the flames and the heat died down within the tunnel. Looking once more into the cave the dragon saw that Semeion was laying on the floor without any sign of movement. The dragon pulled his head back in a proud statement of his ego. “When they see what I have done to this one they will all come back to me out of fear. And I will kill them all.”

The dragon looked once more into the cave to gloat over his first small but meaningful victory. To his surprise Semeion was no longer laying on the floor where he expected him. In fact, Semeion had vanished entirely.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Nov 27, 2006)

The father dragon looked down the tunnel in rage.  As the light-gray figure looked on not knowing if Semeion had made it or not, the ghostly figure was sure that the red hue of the dragon’s scales increased in intensity.  Whether this was true or not, the light-gray figure smiled.  He would likely never know if Semeion had made it or not, but the change in coloration led him to believe that the dragon was angry.  If the dragon was angry, the light-gray figure could assume that Semeion had managed to make it alive.

Inside the underground tunnel, Semeion had managed to survive being knocked forward from the surge of the warm air coming before the flame.  The flames hadn’t actually reached Semeion.  If they had, he would likely not have survived at all.  As it were, the concussive force of the blow had nearly knocked him unconscious.  As he flew through the air and approached his hard landing upon the solid ground he spotted the alcove that had been used as a storage area by Ischarus and Charis.

Semeion hit the ground hard, but not hard enough to completely make him lose consciousness.  Out of the corner of his eye without lifting his head, Semeion could see the dragon peering in on him.  Semeion waited long enough for the dragon to remove his head to gloat and quickly rose up and slipped into the alcove.  By the time the dragon could peer down the tunnel once more, Semeion was in the alcove and resting safely upon the floor. The stress from the quick movement continued the severe and throbbing pain in his leg.

Outside the tunnel, the dragon lifted his head in rage.  Grixanthrosilithiss roared deeply and loudly.  The roar erupted through the valley and echoed off of all available surfaces.  This was all that the light-gray figure needed to see in order to know that his original assumption had been right.  Semeion had survived, and the dragon father was not pleased with this turn of events.

The dragon father stood by the tunnel entrance for nearly an hour, watching down the tunnel intently.  After his original roar of frustration the dragon never once let his eyes leave the tunnel.  He was sure that Semeion had been lying there one minute and then gone the next; and he was determined to make sure that he was not fooled by some type of magic.  Several times the red dragon cast his spell that allowed him to see magical auras, but in each case the dragon father was able to see nothing suspicious within the tunnel.  After an hour of waiting, the dragon rose up to his feet and launched himself into the air.  It was time to go and check the other side of the mountain and make sure this had not been some kind of rouse.

Semeion lay on his back for several hours.  He knew that so long as the dragon father was at the tunnel entrance he was only safe where he was in the tunnel.  No natural inhabitants of the tunnel would come this close to an obviously unpleased dragon at the exit.  A few times Semeion allowed himself to drift into a shallow uneasy sleep.  The sleep allowed him to escape his leg pain for even a few moments.

Once Semeion had rested, he decided that he would take advantage of the time in the alcove to study his magic.  From within one of his secure pouches on the inside of his cloak Semeion pulled a small book bound in leather.  He found a place within the alcove that he felt confident about casting his light spell without spilling ambient lighting into the main corridor.  Semeion sat down upon the ground and drew his cloak up tight around him to shield himself from the cool stone floor.  Smiling, Semeion gathered up a small amount of the fabric of his cloak into his hand and spoke the simple arcane expression.  “Arack.”

His cloak instantly began to glow with a soft light.  The light was not bright at all and gave no warmth, but it would be enough to study his arcane texts for the time he would be caged within the alcove.  Semeion’s light lasted for several hours before the magical power drained from his cloak.  As it did, Semeion considered casting another spell and staying in the alcove just to be safe.

Instead, Semeion decided to stretch.  His knees creaked from sitting upon the cold stone in the same position for so long.  As soon as his knees complained from the position change, Semeion’s back and shoulders likewise began to throb.  Semeion realized that his neck had begun to develop a bit of a kink from looking down to the book in his lap.  Once his body had decided to object to the thought of staying in the position longer, Semeion rose to his feet to stretch.  It seemed like a good time to check the hall and see if the dragon father was still waiting for him.  It was only when Semeion peeked his head out of the alcove in order to check the tunnel did he find out that the dragon father had given up on Semeion some time ago.

With the dragon father gone and his magical talents refreshed, Semeion decided to begin the long trip to the cavern where he expected to find Charis, Rhema, and the villagers.  It was normally a day trip, but Semeion realized that for him and his injured condition it would likely be a multiple day walk.  Semeion breathed deeply and spoke aloud to encourage his decision.  “The leg won’t get any better without healing.  Charis can bring that.  You just need to find her, Semeion.”  Over the course of the past week, Semeion had begun talking to himself more and more to keep himself company.  It was a feeble attempt to try and maintain his sanity against the odds of which he struggled.

Semeion stepped into the main passageway gingerly.  Even though he couldn’t spot Grixanthrosilithiss at the tunnel entrance, he didn’t want to alert the dragon father by casting his spell too early.  He wasn’t about to be in any particular hurry as he moved; his leg would not allow him to sustain that kind of speed.  With his slowed speed, he was able to stumble forward in the darkness with relative ease.  The side of the tunnel provided him with the stability that his leg couldn’t provide.

Once Semeion was far enough away from the tunnel entrance to enable him to feel that he had successfully escaped the grasp of Grixanthrosilithiss, Semeion pulled his sword out of the scabbard at his belt.  Once again the magical word to create light came to his lips.  “Arack.”  The blade of his sword now glistened with the magical light.  Given that the magic of the spell was concentrated on a much smaller object than his entire cloak, the blade glistened much more brightly than his cloak had earlier radiated light.  Semeion smiled, transferred the sword to his off hand, and held the sword in front of him as he reached for the tunnel wall to once more stabilize him and allow him to move with some efficiency.

Fortunately for Semeion the tunnels were quiet with natural life.  It seemed as though the gnoll presence was greatly reduced from what he had remembered from the last trip.  It very well could be that the intrusion of the village into the underground cavern had caused a temporary restructuring of the territorial claims.  It could simply be that Semeion was lucky.  Either way, Semeion was able to make his multiple-day journey with confronting nothing more than the occasional spider and centipede.

The days were long and filled with a dull throbbing pain, but Semeion was able to walk through the pain knowing that Charis, Rhema, and the rest of the villagers waited for him.  Suddenly Semeion stopped as he passed through the tunnel.  “I wonder how the situation with the new Provenience had worked itself out?”  Semeion hadn’t thought much about the new Provenience until now.  He was drawing close to the chamber and it wouldn’t be long now until he found his answers.  His mind couldn’t help but wander as he was this close to completing his journey.

In truth, it was slightly over three and a half more hours of walking before Semeion reached the outskirts of the village.  The young mage wasn’t able to come upon the cave itself before finding signs of life.  Instead, Semeion walked until he saw a small gathering of people in the tunnel ahead.  He paused, obviously seeing them before they were able to see him.  He counted eight people in all.  Four of the people were active in some kind of task along the walls.  Of the remaining four, two of them were closest to him and the other two were the farthest from his position.  Each of these four members was armed with what looked like axes and wooden bucklers.  Each of the four who were not involved in the task along the side of the walls had a torch in the hand that supported the buckler.

Semeion studied the people for an instant, releasing the arcane magic of the light that he had been using.  His portion of the tunnel went dark, but it allowed him to see the group ahead of him better.  It also allowed him to creep forward a considerable distance more before being discovered.  As he moved forward he was able to discern two significant details.  The group was made up of people that looked human.  The second fact that Semeion was able to discern was that the group spoke in the draconic language to one another.  Semeion smiled as he made this second revelation.

Semeion called out loud enough for the entire group to hear.  “Has Druff found his freedom?”

The message was simple, but it would tell the group ahead of him two things.  First, it would alert them to his presence.  Second, it would tell them that he was a friend of Druff.  If this group was part of the villagers as he suspected, that should immediately put them at ease.

At the sound of Semeion’s voice each of the group looked up.  The two guards that were farthest from Semeion quickly crossed through the four members at work and joined the two nearest to him.  The four sentries exchanged questioning glances before responding.  “Druff is indeed free.  Step into the light so that we may see you.”

Semeion smiled even more broadly when they replied.  He stepped forward slowly and explained as he moved.  “Have patience with me, my leg is desperately wounded!”  The group stared in his direction until Semeion broke into the light.

As Semeion crossed into the radius of the light from the guards, each of the guards gasped in recognition.  They could not forget the face of the one who had come and learned their customs to take Darrok’s place.  Nor could they forget the face of the one that Charis and Rhema had told them had died to save Darrok’s own daughter.  The leader of the guards asked, “Semeion?  Is that you? We were told that you had died at the hands of the Provenience.”

Semeion chuckled.  “Apparently the truth of my death has been exaggerated from rumors.  Will you help me back to find all of my friends?”

The leader of the guards nodded and the other three stowed their weapons and rushed toward Semeion to aid him.  The group along the side of the tunnel that had been collecting water stopped their task and stood to see Semeion’s arrival.  The leader of the water collection task force spoke to the leader of the guards.  “We’ve got enough to return home.  If he’s that injured, we must take him to Charis now.”

The leader of the guards nodded in agreement.  “Stegga, Barah, and Alessa – carry him to the village.  We will follow you.”

The villagers quickly returned down the familiar tunnels until they approached the main chamber that held the rest of the villagers.  When the chamber came into view, the guards who were carrying Semeion began to shout out for assistance.  “Call Charis, we need assistance!”  “Call Druff, he will want to see what we have found!”  “Call Rhema and Xando, they will want to see this.”

At once the village came to life.  Most of the villagers came to the entrance where the tunnel met the chamber to see what the commotion was about.  One child in particular heard the call for Charis and charged to the small alcove where the food and water rationing had been located.  “Misselle,” as many of the young children had come to call Rhema and Charis, “Come quickly.  Something is happening at the chamber entrance!”

Charis and Tierna exchanged confused glances before Charis spoke orders.  “Tierna, come with me.  Maya,” Charis looked to the young girl that had alerted her, “you need to stay here and watch the food.  Do not eat or drink anything and tell me if anyone comes in here.”  Both Tierna and Maya nodded and then exchanged positions.

Charis and Tierna charged out of the small storage area and immediately Charis saw Rhema.  She was crying and pointing to the entrance.  Charis turned and saw that Druff and Xando were in the sea of villagers and there was someone in the middle.  As the crowd flowed together and people seemed to celebrate, Charis caught a glimpse of who was in the center.  Her eyes instantly welled up with tears as she recognized the man who was being carried.  He looked seriously wounded and in pain, but she recognized him all the same.

Rhema approached Charis and embraced her in a hug.  Charis was frozen in disbelief.  She stared into the pack of villagers as they slowly brought Semeion towards her.  As the closed the gap, Semeion caught sight of Charis.  He could see her crying as she watched him approach.  The new Provenience stood behind Charis as if in a position of honorable service.  That was all he needed to know.  The crowd brought Semeion the whole way to Charis and Rhema and Charis found herself unable to speak.

Semeion could talk.  He had managed to accomplish his mission.  He had made it back to Charis and the villagers.  “You can’t get rid of me that quickly.”  Semeion smiled and laughed as he tried to stand.  His legs began to give way as Rhema reached out and caught him.

Rhema spoke as she caught him.  “But, how?  You, there was no place for you to go!”

Semeion smiled.  “Forgive me for not telling you my plan, Rhema.  I had a spell that I had been working on for the several days we waited while the supplies were collected.  It allows me to fall from a considerable distance without injury.  It worked!”

Rhema looked to Semeion and reacted in shock at his appearance.  “It worked?  Look at yourself!”

Semeion smiled some more.  “Well, it worked against the ground.  The trees in my way didn’t listen as well.  A few of the limbs broke my leg and a few ribs I think.  But I landed on the ground softly!  Once I was down on the ground I passed out from pain.  I awoke at least one full day later, maybe more.”  Semeion looked to Charis and held her gaze.

Charis still couldn’t speak, but she reached out and embraced him in a deep hug.  As she touched him, a yellow glow formed an aura around her body.  The aura surrounded Semeion as well and then seemed to be absorbed into Semeion’s wounds.  As they embraced, Semeion’s deep wounds were healed.  At the sight of the golden aura, the villagers erupted in a loud cheer.  Semeion looked around and noticed that at least one other person was affected besides Rhema and Charis.  Tierna was also crying and smiling.


[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
The father dragon looked down the tunnel in rage. As the light-gray figure looked on not knowing if Semeion had made it or not, the ghostly figure was sure that the red hue of the dragon’s scales increased in intensity. Whether this was true or not, the light-gray figure smiled. He would likely never know if Semeion had made it or not, but the change in coloration led him to believe that the dragon was angry. If the dragon was angry, the light-gray figure could assume that Semeion had managed to make it alive.

Inside the underground tunnel, Semeion had managed to survive being knocked forward from the surge of the warm air coming before the flame. The flames hadn’t actually reached Semeion. If they had, he would likely not have survived at all. As it were, the concussive force of the blow had nearly knocked him unconscious. As he flew through the air and approached his hard landing upon the solid ground he spotted the alcove that had been used as a storage area by Ischarus and Charis.

Semeion hit the ground hard, but not hard enough to completely make him lose consciousness. Out of the corner of his eye without lifting his head, Semeion could see the dragon peering in on him. Semeion waited long enough for the dragon to remove his head to gloat and quickly rose up and slipped into the alcove. By the time the dragon could peer down the tunnel once more, Semeion was in the alcove and resting safely upon the floor. The stress from the quick movement continued the severe and throbbing pain in his leg.

Outside the tunnel, the dragon lifted his head in rage. Grixanthrosilithiss roared deeply and loudly. The roar erupted through the valley and echoed off of all available surfaces. This was all that the light-gray figure needed to see in order to know that his original assumption had been right. Semeion had survived, and the dragon father was not pleased with this turn of events.

The dragon father stood by the tunnel entrance for nearly an hour, watching down the tunnel intently. After his original roar of frustration the dragon never once let his eyes leave the tunnel. He was sure that Semeion had been lying there one minute and then gone the next; and he was determined to make sure that he was not fooled by some type of magic. Several times the red dragon cast his spell that allowed him to see magical auras, but in each case the dragon father was able to see nothing suspicious within the tunnel. After an hour of waiting, the dragon rose up to his feet and launched himself into the air. It was time to go and check the other side of the mountain and make sure this had not been some kind of rouse.

Semeion lay on his back for several hours. He knew that so long as the dragon father was at the tunnel entrance he was only safe where he was in the tunnel. No natural inhabitants of the tunnel would come this close to an obviously unpleased dragon at the exit. A few times Semeion allowed himself to drift into a shallow uneasy sleep. The sleep allowed him to escape his leg pain for even a few moments.

Once Semeion had rested, he decided that he would take advantage of the time in the alcove to study his magic. From within one of his secure pouches on the inside of his cloak Semeion pulled a small book bound in leather. He found a place within the alcove that he felt confident about casting his light spell without spilling ambient lighting into the main corridor. Semeion sat down upon the ground and drew his cloak up tight around him to shield himself from the cool stone floor. Smiling, Semeion gathered up a small amount of the fabric of his cloak into his hand and spoke the simple arcane expression. “Arack.”

His cloak instantly began to glow with a soft light. The light was not bright at all and gave no warmth, but it would be enough to study his arcane texts for the time he would be caged within the alcove. Semeion’s light lasted for several hours before the magical power drained from his cloak. As it did, Semeion considered casting another spell and staying in the alcove just to be safe.

Instead, Semeion decided to stretch. His knees creaked from sitting upon the cold stone in the same position for so long. As soon as his knees complained from the position change, Semeion’s back and shoulders likewise began to throb. Semeion realized that his neck had begun to develop a bit of a kink from looking down to the book in his lap. Once his body had decided to object to the thought of staying in the position longer, Semeion rose to his feet to stretch. It seemed like a good time to check the hall and see if the dragon father was still waiting for him. It was only when Semeion peeked his head out of the alcove in order to check the tunnel did he find out that the dragon father had given up on Semeion some time ago.

With the dragon father gone and his magical talents refreshed, Semeion decided to begin the long trip to the cavern where he expected to find Charis, Rhema, and the villagers. It was normally a day trip, but Semeion realized that for him and his injured condition it would likely be a multiple day walk. Semeion breathed deeply and spoke aloud to encourage his decision. “The leg won’t get any better without healing. Charis can bring that. You just need to find her, Semeion.” Over the course of the past week, Semeion had begun talking to himself more and more to keep himself company. It was a feeble attempt to try and maintain his sanity against the odds of which he struggled.

Semeion stepped into the main passageway gingerly. Even though he couldn’t spot Grixanthrosilithiss at the tunnel entrance, he didn’t want to alert the dragon father by casting his spell too early. He wasn’t about to be in any particular hurry as he moved; his leg would not allow him to sustain that kind of speed. With his slowed speed, he was able to stumble forward in the darkness with relative ease. The side of the tunnel provided him with the stability that his leg couldn’t provide.

Once Semeion was far enough away from the tunnel entrance to enable him to feel that he had successfully escaped the grasp of Grixanthrosilithiss, Semeion pulled his sword out of the scabbard at his belt. Once again the magical word to create light came to his lips. “Arack.” The blade of his sword now glistened with the magical light. Given that the magic of the spell was concentrated on a much smaller object than his entire cloak, the blade glistened much more brightly than his cloak had earlier radiated light. Semeion smiled, transferred the sword to his off hand, and held the sword in front of him as he reached for the tunnel wall to once more stabilize him and allow him to move with some efficiency.

Fortunately for Semeion the tunnels were quiet with natural life. It seemed as though the gnoll presence was greatly reduced from what he had remembered from the last trip. It very well could be that the intrusion of the village into the underground cavern had caused a temporary restructuring of the territorial claims. It could simply be that Semeion was lucky. Either way, Semeion was able to make his multiple-day journey with confronting nothing more than the occasional spider and centipede.

The days were long and filled with a dull throbbing pain, but Semeion was able to walk through the pain knowing that Charis, Rhema, and the rest of the villagers waited for him. Suddenly Semeion stopped as he passed through the tunnel. “I wonder how the situation with the new Provenience had worked itself out?” Semeion hadn’t thought much about the new Provenience until now. He was drawing close to the chamber and it wouldn’t be long now until he found his answers. His mind couldn’t help but wander as he was this close to completing his journey.

In truth, it was slightly over three and a half more hours of walking before Semeion reached the outskirts of the village. The young mage wasn’t able to come upon the cave itself before finding signs of life. Instead, Semeion walked until he saw a small gathering of people in the tunnel ahead. He paused, obviously seeing them before they were able to see him. He counted eight people in all. Four of the people were active in some kind of task along the walls. Of the remaining four, two of them were closest to him and the other two were the farthest from his position. Each of these four members was armed with what looked like axes and wooden bucklers. Each of the four who were not involved in the task along the side of the walls had a torch in the hand that supported the buckler.

Semeion studied the people for an instant, releasing the arcane magic of the light that he had been using. His portion of the tunnel went dark, but it allowed him to see the group ahead of him better. It also allowed him to creep forward a considerable distance more before being discovered. As he moved forward he was able to discern two significant details. The group was made up of people that looked human. The second fact that Semeion was able to discern was that the group spoke in the draconic language to one another. Semeion smiled as he made this second revelation.

Semeion called out loud enough for the entire group to hear. “Has Druff found his freedom?”

The message was simple, but it would tell the group ahead of him two things. First, it would alert them to his presence. Second, it would tell them that he was a friend of Druff. If this group was part of the villagers as he suspected, that should immediately put them at ease.

At the sound of Semeion’s voice each of the group looked up. The two guards that were farthest from Semeion quickly crossed through the four members at work and joined the two nearest to him. The four sentries exchanged questioning glances before responding. “Druff is indeed free. Step into the light so that we may see you.”

Semeion smiled even more broadly when they replied. He stepped forward slowly and explained as he moved. “Have patience with me, my leg is desperately wounded!” The group stared in his direction until Semeion broke into the light.

As Semeion crossed into the radius of the light from the guards, each of the guards gasped in recognition. They could not forget the face of the one who had come and learned their customs to take Darrok’s place. Nor could they forget the face of the one that Charis and Rhema had told them had died to save Darrok’s own daughter. The leader of the guards asked, “Semeion? Is that you? We were told that you had died at the hands of the Provenience.”

Semeion chuckled. “Apparently the truth of my death has been exaggerated from rumors. Will you help me back to find all of my friends?”

The leader of the guards nodded and the other three stowed their weapons and rushed toward Semeion to aid him. The group along the side of the tunnel that had been collecting water stopped their task and stood to see Semeion’s arrival. The leader of the water collection task force spoke to the leader of the guards. “We’ve got enough to return home. If he’s that injured, we must take him to Charis now.”

The leader of the guards nodded in agreement. “Stegga, Barah, and Alessa – carry him to the village. We will follow you.”

The villagers quickly returned down the familiar tunnels until they approached the main chamber that held the rest of the villagers. When the chamber came into view, the guards who were carrying Semeion began to shout out for assistance. “Call Charis, we need assistance!” “Call Druff, he will want to see what we have found!” “Call Rhema and Xando, they will want to see this.”

At once the village came to life. Most of the villagers came to the entrance where the tunnel met the chamber to see what the commotion was about. One child in particular heard the call for Charis and charged to the small alcove where the food and water rationing had been located. “Misselle,” as many of the young children had come to call Rhema and Charis, “Come quickly. Something is happening at the chamber entrance!”

Charis and Tierna exchanged confused glances before Charis spoke orders. “Tierna, come with me. Maya,” Charis looked to the young girl that had alerted her, “you need to stay here and watch the food. Do not eat or drink anything and tell me if anyone comes in here.” Both Tierna and Maya nodded and then exchanged positions.

Charis and Tierna charged out of the small storage area and immediately Charis saw Rhema. She was crying and pointing to the entrance. Charis turned and saw that Druff and Xando were in the sea of villagers and there was someone in the middle. As the crowd flowed together and people seemed to celebrate, Charis caught a glimpse of who was in the center. Her eyes instantly welled up with tears as she recognized the man who was being carried. He looked seriously wounded and in pain, but she recognized him all the same.

Rhema approached Charis and embraced her in a hug. Charis was frozen in disbelief. She stared into the pack of villagers as they slowly brought Semeion towards her. As the closed the gap, Semeion caught sight of Charis. He could see her crying as she watched him approach. The new Provenience stood behind Charis as if in a position of honorable service. That was all he needed to know. The crowd brought Semeion the whole way to Charis and Rhema and Charis found herself unable to speak.

Semeion could talk. He had managed to accomplish his mission. He had made it back to Charis and the villagers. “You can’t get rid of me that quickly.” Semeion smiled and laughed as he tried to stand. His legs began to give way as Rhema reached out and caught him.

Rhema spoke as she caught him. “But, how? You, there was no place for you to go!”

Semeion smiled. “Forgive me for not telling you my plan, Rhema. I had a spell that I had been working on for the several days we waited while the supplies were collected. It allows me to fall from a considerable distance without injury. It worked!”

Rhema looked to Semeion and reacted in shock at his appearance. “It worked? Look at yourself!”

Semeion smiled some more. “Well, it worked against the ground. The trees in my way didn’t listen as well. A few of the limbs broke my leg and a few ribs I think. But I landed on the ground softly! Once I was down on the ground I passed out from pain. I awoke at least one full day later, maybe more.” Semeion looked to Charis and held her gaze.

Charis still couldn’t speak, but she reached out and embraced him in a deep hug. As she touched him, a yellow glow formed an aura around her body. The aura surrounded Semeion as well and then seemed to be absorbed into Semeion’s wounds. As they embraced, Semeion’s deep wounds were healed. At the sight of the golden aura, the villagers erupted in a loud cheer. Semeion looked around and noticed that at least one other person was affected besides Rhema and Charis. Tierna was also crying and smiling.[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Nov 28, 2006)

*Chapter Fourteen: FIDELITY THROUGH PIETY*

Twenty three days of as near of a normal life as possible passed for the people underground.  Life was made considerably easier for the people of the village with Semeion’s return.  Those who were venturing out into the caverns to collect water no longer had to choose between holding a shield and holding a torch.  Semeion magically enchanted shields so that they acted as beacons of light.  Within the cavern the villagers continued to light fires for heat, but Semeion’s magic helped everything else including improving the taste of the stored food.

Outside the mountain, Grixanthrosilithiss lifted his head from where it laid upon the perch.  He thought for an instant that he saw movement along the horizon.  He focused hard as he looked to the north.  His scaled draconic eyelids squeezed together as the father dragon peered as hard as he could.  The glimmer of light that had caught his eye had vanished; but the dragon was not convinced that it had been in his imagination.

The red wyrm lifted his massive body off of the rock surface and uncoiled his wings.  He leapt off of the mountain edge on the Quehalost side and plummeted toward the earth.  As he picked up speed he quickly unfurled his wings and pulled upward into a surge.  His wings beat hard and he easily climbed back to his original height and beyond.  He navigated his way along the mountain ridge until he approached his perch on the Tongra side of the mountains.  He landed upon his perch and examined the horizon from his closer position.  Once more his eyes squinted.  This time they saw the glint of light that he knew was there.  In fact, there were three glimmers of light, not just one.

Grixanthrosilithiss smiled and spoke to himself.  “So, they finally come.  This is what the villagers have been waiting for underneath the mountain.  There apparently is a greater power working against me.  This time the force is organizing my villagers to rise up against me.  They will fail, and I will find those responsible and kill them.”  The red wyrm lowered his body to the ground and tried to blend in with the side of the mountain.  He had already seen the glint coming toward him.  There was no need to let them see him in return.

Slowly the glint of light drew closer.  Scores of minutes passed as the red wyrm stayed still, trying to blend in with the side of the mountain.  He watch as his opponents came steadily closer, now skimming just over the top of the trees.  As they drew increasingly closer, Grixanthrosilithiss was able to identify his opponents in greater detail.  Again he spoke to himself, thinking out loud as he did.  “Of course they would bring the support of the dragons of the north lands.  It is no matter.  The cowardice of the gold, silver, and bronze beasts flying toward me will show through as they face against my greatness.  My wrath with overcome their timidity in battle.  Their noble ways will succumb to my raw power.”

As the trio of dragons drew closer to the mountain they tightened up their ranks and closed in on the tops of the trees.  They planned to come in low.  Grixanthrosilithiss noticed that the silver dragon had a rider, but the rider was obviously not a mounted combatant.  The rider carried no lance or spear.  With the exception of being a sentry upon the beast’s back he would serve no purpose.  The red wyrm knew that there were few human magicians of whom he needed to have any fear regarding their magical power.

The trio of dragons quickly reached the edge of the mountain and they began to soar up the mountainous incline.  Suddenly the silver dragon broke apart from the trio and landed just outside the tunnel entrance that Rhema and Ischarus always used to enter the mountainous depths from the Tongra side.  Once the dragon had settled lightly upon the rock perch the silver wyrm lowered his head and allowed the rider to disembark.

The rider slid off the dragon’s back and continued to protest to the silver dragon.  “Ausaphaborishan, I do not see why I cannot at least watch the battle from the safety of this landing!”

The dragon smiled and turned his head to face the rider.  “Ischarus, in my five hundred and twenty years of fighting evil – especially evil dragons – I know that it is no place for my children.  There may come a time when you can face a dragon and be victorious, but right now Llywessiar is correct.  You would be a pawn waiting to be used against us.  Should your life be threatened our position would be weakened.  Now go into the cave and bring forth your people.  The three of us led by Llywessiar will handle the red wyrm called Grixanthrosilithiss.”

Ischarus frowned, but knew that the advice given by the gold dragon and relayed to him by the silver dragon would most likely prove correct.  There was little he could do in combat.  He knew that he wanted to watch simply for the sake of his own curiosity.  He smiled and raised a challenging finger toward the dragon’s face.  “You must promise to tell me stories of the battle when I return home, dragon father.  I want to hear every detail of your great victory.  I will hear of how Llywessiar the gold wyrm, Sappurapolician the bronze wyrm, and my dragon father Ausaphaborishan the silver wyrm defeated the red wyrm Grixanthrosilithiss of Quehalost.  I will tell those tales to my children!”

The silver dragon allowed a deep rumble to issue from his chest.  “That is the fire that I have come to love, Ischarus.  That is why I sent you into the world – into Quehalost.  You make me proud with your passion.”  The dragon lifted its right front foot and very delicately rubbed the top of Ischarus’ head.  Although Ischarus was clearly a grown man, he felt very much like a little child again as he stood beside the great silver wyrm.  The dragon gave Ischarus a cue to leave.  “Now go, Ischarus.  Llywessiar will get mad if you stay too much longer.”

Ischarus bowed lowly and turned into the tunnel.  As he did, Ausaphaborishan smiled.  He would give him one more gift.  He muttered the single arcane word that Semeion had used so often.  “Arack.”  Ischarus’ sword illuminated as if it were a torch.  The Drakontos man turned around and smiled at his dragon father before turning back and charging deeper into the tunnels.

While Ischarus was talking with his dragon father, Llywessiar and Sappurapolician climbed a few dozen feet before performing a wingover maneuver and flying across the surface of the trees once more.  They circled just above the trees until they saw Ischarus head into the tunnel.  Llywessiar turned his great head in the direction of the smaller bronze dragon and smiled.  “Sappurapolician, the time has come to chase evil from our land.  The red threatens to push its way out of Quehalost and such an action will not be tolerated.”

The bronze dragon smiled in return, knowing that it flew with a dragon who was much more experienced in these matters that he was.  In fact, Sappurapolician knew that he was the youngest and smallest of the three.  Yet the dragon council had chosen him to fly with both Llywessiar and Ausaphaborishan.  The young bronze dragon would make them proud.  “It is as good a day to die as any, Llywessiar.”

The gold wyrm laughed as he approached Ausaphaborishan’s position.  “Especially if you are evil!”  The deep voice of the tremendous gold dragon rumbled across the valley.

Ausaphaborishan launched himself into the air to join his flight partners.  “It is as good of a day as any, that is for sure.  Any day that an entire evil dragon loses control of all those he oppresses is a good day!”

The dragons circled atop the trees once more and picked up speed.  The sight of the massive dragon flight was absolutely tremendous.  Sappurapolician was the smallest of the three, although in practicality he was only slightly smaller than Ausaphaborishan.  The body of the silver was more massive, but the bronze dragon’s tail extended out farther than his silver’s counterpart.  Both dragons were dwarfed by the older and more mature gold leader.  Llywessiar was easily over thirty feet longer than either of the other dragons and his tail itself was over forty feet in length.

Perhaps the most impressive sight in consideration of their size was their tremendous wingspan.  Outside of coloration, the bronze and the silver looked similar from below.  As they prepared to climb the steep face of the mountains, each of the dragons extended their wings to the maximum possible wingspan.  The webbing between the bronze dragon’s forward three phalanges was quite visible.  The actual wing connected to the rear of the third phalange and both wings together spanned slightly over sixty feet in width.  From a position above the bronze dragon it was possible to see the sunlight glistening off of his metallic skin.  The dragon cast a large shadow below.

Ausaphaborishan’s silhouette looked quite similar to Sappurapolician’s silhouette except that the wing connected to the back of the second phalange and there was no visible webbing between the forward phalanges.  Altogether, the silver wyrm’s wingspan stretched almost to eighty feet.

The most impressive silhouette was cast by Llywessiar.  Rather than casting a silhouette like that of a bird and the other dragons, Llywessiar’s silhouette was like that of a kite.  The gold dragon’s wingspan was only slightly wider than that of the silver dragon’s wingspan, but the fact that the wing ran from the dragon’s shoulders all the way back to the tip of the tail gave this dragon an impressive shadow.  From below, the gold dragon looked like an enormous triangular kite rippling shoulder to tail in the wind.

The dragons made the turn and began ascending the mountain face to meet the opposing red wyrm.  As they did, three cries sounded from within the forest beneath them.  At the sound of the cries, each of the dragons turned their heads back to see three green dragons leaping out of the forest.  The dragons were all smaller than either Llywessiar or Ausaphaborishan.  Most likely these dragons were a family unit that felt threatened by the sudden appearance of such powerful foes.

The largest of the green dragons surged forward and was flanked by the other two.  “I am Kalliaxis and bring Starigonnilann and Aurigraphillienne to fight with me.  You will regret trespassing over our forest!”

Grixanthrosilithiss saw the green dragons surge up behind the trio.  He laughed as he saw his advantage.  The green dragons were far from being his allies, yet he was not opposed to using them to lessen his own fight.  One last time before the battle was joined he spoke arrogantly to himself.  “The enemy of my enemies is my friend, at least temporarily.”  The red wyrm stood up with great speed and grace and leapt off his draconic perch along the mountain face.  He looked down upon the three dragons that were now outnumbered.  “You have come for me, gold?  Then meet Grixanthrosilithiss and meet your death!”

Llywessair snapped his head around at the challenge from the red wyrm above the trio of dragons.  “Four on three, I like these odds!  You will grow up today, Sappurapolician”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Chapter Fourteen: FIDELITY THROUGH PIETY

Twenty three days of as near of a normal life as possible passed for the people underground. Life was made considerably easier for the people of the village with Semeion’s return. Those who were venturing out into the caverns to collect water no longer had to choose between holding a shield and holding a torch. Semeion magically enchanted shields so that they acted as beacons of light. Within the cavern the villagers continued to light fires for heat, but Semeion’s magic helped everything else including improving the taste of the stored food.

Outside the mountain, Grixanthrosilithiss lifted his head from where it laid upon the perch. He thought for an instant that he saw movement along the horizon. He focused hard as he looked to the north. His scaled draconic eyelids squeezed together as the father dragon peered as hard as he could. The glimmer of light that had caught his eye had vanished; but the dragon was not convinced that it had been in his imagination.

The red wyrm lifted his massive body off of the rock surface and uncoiled his wings. He leapt off of the mountain edge on the Quehalost side and plummeted toward the earth. As he picked up speed he quickly unfurled his wings and pulled upward into a surge. His wings beat hard and he easily climbed back to his original height and beyond. He navigated his way along the mountain ridge until he approached his perch on the Tongra side of the mountains. He landed upon his perch and examined the horizon from his closer position. Once more his eyes squinted. This time they saw the glint of light that he knew was there. In fact, there were three glimmers of light, not just one.

Grixanthrosilithiss smiled and spoke to himself. “So, they finally come. This is what the villagers have been waiting for underneath the mountain. There apparently is a greater power working against me. This time the force is organizing my villagers to rise up against me. They will fail, and I will find those responsible and kill them.” The red wyrm lowered his body to the ground and tried to blend in with the side of the mountain. He had already seen the glint coming toward him. There was no need to let them see him in return.

Slowly the glint of light drew closer. Scores of minutes passed as the red wyrm stayed still, trying to blend in with the side of the mountain. He watch as his opponents came steadily closer, now skimming just over the top of the trees. As they drew increasingly closer, Grixanthrosilithiss was able to identify his opponents in greater detail. Again he spoke to himself, thinking out loud as he did. “Of course they would bring the support of the dragons of the north lands. It is no matter. The cowardice of the gold, silver, and bronze beasts flying toward me will show through as they face against my greatness. My wrath with overcome their timidity in battle. Their noble ways will succumb to my raw power.”

As the trio of dragons drew closer to the mountain they tightened up their ranks and closed in on the tops of the trees. They planned to come in low. Grixanthrosilithiss noticed that the silver dragon had a rider, but the rider was obviously not a mounted combatant. The rider carried no lance or spear. With the exception of being a sentry upon the beast’s back he would serve no purpose. The red wyrm knew that there were few human magicians of whom he needed to have any fear regarding their magical power.

The trio of dragons quickly reached the edge of the mountain and they began to soar up the mountainous incline. Suddenly the silver dragon broke apart from the trio and landed just outside the tunnel entrance that Rhema and Ischarus always used to enter the mountainous depths from the Tongra side. Once the dragon had settled lightly upon the rock perch the silver wyrm lowered his head and allowed the rider to disembark.

The rider slid off the dragon’s back and continued to protest to the silver dragon. “Ausaphaborishan, I do not see why I cannot at least watch the battle from the safety of this landing!”

The dragon smiled and turned his head to face the rider. “Ischarus, in my five hundred and twenty years of fighting evil – especially evil dragons – I know that it is no place for my children. There may come a time when you can face a dragon and be victorious, but right now Llywessiar is correct. You would be a pawn waiting to be used against us. Should your life be threatened our position would be weakened. Now go into the cave and bring forth your people. The three of us led by Llywessiar will handle the red wyrm called Grixanthrosilithiss.”

Ischarus frowned, but knew that the advice given by the gold dragon and relayed to him by the silver dragon would most likely prove correct. There was little he could do in combat. He knew that he wanted to watch simply for the sake of his own curiosity. He smiled and raised a challenging finger toward the dragon’s face. “You must promise to tell me stories of the battle when I return home, dragon father. I want to hear every detail of your great victory. I will hear of how Llywessiar the gold wyrm, Sappurapolician the bronze wyrm, and my dragon father Ausaphaborishan the silver wyrm defeated the red wyrm Grixanthrosilithiss of Quehalost. I will tell those tales to my children!”

The silver dragon allowed a deep rumble to issue from his chest. “That is the fire that I have come to love, Ischarus. That is why I sent you into the world – into Quehalost. You make me proud with your passion.” The dragon lifted its right front foot and very delicately rubbed the top of Ischarus’ head. Although Ischarus was clearly a grown man, he felt very much like a little child again as he stood beside the great silver wyrm. The dragon gave Ischarus a cue to leave. “Now go, Ischarus. Llywessiar will get mad if you stay too much longer.”

Ischarus bowed lowly and turned into the tunnel. As he did, Ausaphaborishan smiled. He would give him one more gift. He muttered the single arcane word that Semeion had used so often. “Arack.” Ischarus’ sword illuminated as if it were a torch. The Drakontos man turned around and smiled at his dragon father before turning back and charging deeper into the tunnels.

While Ischarus was talking with his dragon father, Llywessiar and Sappurapolician climbed a few dozen feet before performing a wingover maneuver and flying across the surface of the trees once more. They circled just above the trees until they saw Ischarus head into the tunnel. Llywessiar turned his great head in the direction of the smaller bronze dragon and smiled. “Sappurapolician, the time has come to chase evil from our land. The red threatens to push its way out of Quehalost and such an action will not be tolerated.”

The bronze dragon smiled in return, knowing that it flew with a dragon who was much more experienced in these matters that he was. In fact, Sappurapolician knew that he was the youngest and smallest of the three. Yet the dragon council had chosen him to fly with both Llywessiar and Ausaphaborishan. The young bronze dragon would make them proud. “It is as good a day to die as any, Llywessiar.”

The gold wyrm laughed as he approached Ausaphaborishan’s position. “Especially if you are evil!” The deep voice of the tremendous gold dragon rumbled across the valley.

Ausaphaborishan launched himself into the air to join his flight partners. “It is as good of a day as any, that is for sure. Any day that an entire evil dragon loses control of all those he oppresses is a good day!”

The dragons circled atop the trees once more and picked up speed. The sight of the massive dragon flight was absolutely tremendous. Sappurapolician was the smallest of the three, although in practicality he was only slightly smaller than Ausaphaborishan. The body of the silver was more massive, but the bronze dragon’s tail extended out farther than his silver’s counterpart. Both dragons were dwarfed by the older and more mature gold leader. Llywessiar was easily over thirty feet longer than either of the other dragons and his tail itself was over forty feet in length.

Perhaps the most impressive sight in consideration of their size was their tremendous wingspan. Outside of coloration, the bronze and the silver looked similar from below. As they prepared to climb the steep face of the mountains, each of the dragons extended their wings to the maximum possible wingspan. The webbing between the bronze dragon’s forward three phalanges was quite visible. The actual wing connected to the rear of the third phalange and both wings together spanned slightly over sixty feet in width. From a position above the bronze dragon it was possible to see the sunlight glistening off of his metallic skin. The dragon cast a large shadow below.

Ausaphaborishan’s silhouette looked quite similar to Sappurapolician’s silhouette except that the wing connected to the back of the second phalange and there was no visible webbing between the forward phalanges. Altogether, the silver wyrm’s wingspan stretched almost to eighty feet.

The most impressive silhouette was cast by Llywessiar. Rather than casting a silhouette like that of a bird and the other dragons, Llywessiar’s silhouette was like that of a kite. The gold dragon’s wingspan was only slightly wider than that of the silver dragon’s wingspan, but the fact that the wing ran from the dragon’s shoulders all the way back to the tip of the tail gave this dragon an impressive shadow. From below, the gold dragon looked like an enormous triangular kite rippling shoulder to tail in the wind.

The dragons made the turn and began ascending the mountain face to meet the opposing red wyrm. As they did, three cries sounded from within the forest beneath them. At the sound of the cries, each of the dragons turned their heads back to see three green dragons leaping out of the forest. The dragons were all smaller than either Llywessiar or Ausaphaborishan. Most likely these dragons were a family unit that felt threatened by the sudden appearance of such powerful foes.

The largest of the green dragons surged forward and was flanked by the other two. “I am Kalliaxis and bring Starigonnilann and Aurigraphillienne to fight with me. You will regret trespassing over our forest!”

Grixanthrosilithiss saw the green dragons surge up behind the trio. He laughed as he saw his advantage. The green dragons were far from being his allies, yet he was not opposed to using them to lessen his own fight. One last time before the battle was joined he spoke arrogantly to himself. “The enemy of my enemies is my friend, at least temporarily.” The red wyrm stood up with great speed and grace and leapt off his draconic perch along the mountain face. He looked down upon the three dragons that were now outnumbered. “You have come for me, gold? Then meet Grixanthrosilithiss and meet your death!”

Llywessair snapped his head around at the challenge from the red wyrm above the trio of dragons. “Four on three, I like these odds! You will grow up today, Sappurapolician”
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Nov 29, 2006)

Ausaphaborishan called out from behind Llywessiar.  “For-citus, elicitus!  Use magic if you’ve got it!”  An invisible shield of force sprang into existence in front of him.  He could hear each of his dragon allies call upon the same spell and bring up what little magical protection they could.

Grixanthrosilithiss stared on, trying to understand the tactics of the dragon squad approaching him.  He wasn’t yet close enough to hear what Ausaphaborishan had said, but he could interpret the magical sign easily enough.  “If you are going to use magic, then so shall I!”  The red wyrm roared loud enough so that all of the rest of the dragons would be sure to hear him.  “For-citus, elicitus”

Each of the green dragons heard the red wyrm’s challenge and was reminded to raise their own magical defenses.  Kalliaxis spoke to the other two in her flight.  “If nothing else, our magic can level the battlefield.  For-citus, elicitus!”  She heard the two green dragons behind her utter the same magical words to invoke their own magical defense.

Llywessiar’s eyelids narrowed as he focused on the red wyrm barreling through the air down at him.  “Sappurapolician and Ausaphaborishan, listen well.  You two turn and fight the greens.  Ausaphaborishan, the red’s fiery breath would be devastating to your hide and I don’t want to risk that at the beginning since we are now outnumbered.  He and I are immune to each other’s breath and I am sure I can take him alone until you both finish off those greens.  And watch out for one another, you’re outnumbered!”

Ausaphaborishan laughed at the gold dragon’s closing comment.  Without a sound, Sappurapolician pulled backwards away from the mountain and spun himself into an inside loop until he was flying down the mountain slope toward the greens.  The silver dragon saw that his bronze ally was trying to dive below the trio of green dragons.  It was a tactical maneuver that would keep them fighting in the air.  The silver dragon turned more gracefully than his bronze ally and took a higher approach toward the three green dragons.

Since Sappurapolician had the advantage of both greater speed and gravity working in his favor, the bronze dragon dove below the level of the green wyrms.  He suddenly unfurled his wings to the greatest width possible and his body jerked upward.  His wings beat hard in order to not lose the moment that he had gained from his descent now that he was climbing and working against gravity.  Sappurapolician’s plan worked, however.  He approached the center of the flight of green dragons and his maneuver had caught them off-guard.  As the bronze dragon flashed between all three dragons he exhaled his mighty electric breath.

Electricity sprang forward from his mouth, but not in the straight line that the flight of greens had expected.  The electrical breath erupted in a circle around Sappurapolician’s head, catching all three of the green dragons in the electrical shock.  The trio of green dragons was obviously surprised by this tactical maneuver.

The youngest of the three green dragons lashed out with the first volley in reply to Sappurapolician’s electrical assault.  Its own acidic breath poured out of the dragon’s mouth and sprayed all over the bronze dragon’s scales.  Sappurapolician felt the attack upon him and began to maneuver away, but it was already too late to avoid the effects of this dragon.  Aurigraphillienne followed to pursue Sappurapolician.

Starigonnilann also fired a volley of its own acidic breath towards Sappurapolician.  This dragon was not as accurate since Sappurapolician had already begun the process of taking defense maneuvers from the prior strike.  The acidic breath still hit the bronze dragon; but the effect was not near as intense as from the younger green dragon.  Starigonnilann followed Aurigraphillienne as she pushed forward to pursue the bronze wyrm.

Kalliaxis prepared to complement the breath attacks with one of her own.  Before the largest green dragon was prepared to launch her attack she was blindsided by a blast of cold air.  Quick and nimble reflexes allowed the green dragon to quickly duck out of the spray of the breath, but the damage had been done.  Worse, the green dragon’s momentum had been lost.  There was no way that it would be able to catch the bronze any more.  Instead, she would have to focus on Ausaphaborishan, the silver dragon that had just blasted it with a spray of freezing breath.

Ausaphaborishan spoke after he blasted the eldest green dragon with icy breath.  “I think two against one is more than fair odds for the younger members of your flight, Kalliaxis.  Why don’t you try me on for size?”

Kalliaxis replied, “Well, if you insist!  I’ll let you feel the brunt of my acidic breath!”  The green dragon returned breath weapon for breath weapon and hit the larger silver dragon with a solid attack.  

Ausaphaborishan’s scales were covered in the corrosive acid, but the silver dragon was only mildly phased by the attack.  Ausaphaborishan knew that now all the dragon breath had been expelled for a short amount of time and the battle would grow much tighter.  The dragons would have to either run until their breath would be ready to use again or they would fight tooth, claw, and tail.  The silver decided that since it had the upper hand in size that running should not be an option.  The silver dragon turned in flight once more and flew straight towards the largest of the green dragons.

Kalliaxis took Ausaphaborishan up on the physical challenge.  It noticed that the silver was planning on charging at her so she flew in fast and hard in return against his challenge.  The dragons collided solidly in mid-flight, each dragon biting hard into the body of the other.  The taste of acidic blood flowed into Ausaphaborishan’s mouth.  Kalliaxis’ mouth turned bone chillingly cold as her own strike hit home and she tasted the blood of Ausaphaborishan.  As both dragons began to plummet towards the earth they released their bites and separated, taking a bit of time to regain speed and come back for an attack.

While Kalliaxis and Ausaphaborishan struggled against each other, Sappurapolician struggled hard against the two smaller green dragons.  Although he had avoided much of the effects of the breath of Starigonnilann, the acid continued to burn at his scales much longer than the breath of Aurigraphillienne.  Sappurapolician fought through the pain of the clinging acid and performed an in-flight loop.  He sailed skyward for just an instant before catching sight of the youngest green dragon behind him.  Sappurapolician continued the loop so that he was now diving down straight toward the back of Aurigraphillienne.

Much like the older and larger pair before them, Aurigraphillienne and Sappurapolician locked tight in a bite upon each other.  Electricity shot down Aurigraphillienne’s back as her teeth sank into Sappurapolician.  While the two were locked together, Starigonnilann saw an opportunity to strike the otherwise engaged Sappurapolician.  As the unengaged green dragon sailed past both of the other dragons he struck out with his front two feet and their razor sharp claws.  One clawed foot managed to find Sappurapolician’s flesh and sink in deep.  Sappurapolician roared out loud at the surprise attack and the three battling dragons once more separated.

Before leaving too far, Sappurapolician thought he could get in a quick strike from his tail.  The tail slashed through the air, but it missed its mark.  Aurigraphillienne and Starigonnilann knew enough to take advantage of the bronze wyrm’s miss.  Each of them turned in midair so that they could line up a successful strike with their fangs against Sappurapolician’s rear flank.  Their teeth sunk in hard and the bronze dragon howled in pain.

After the biting strike, the dragons truly separated to regain speed.  Aurigraphillienne saw Sappurapolician’s approach for another strike.  “Stay back,” she warned Starigonnilann, “I’m going to blast him again with my acidic breath.”  Sappurapolician overheard the warning and was able to avoid the effects of her breath to a large extent.  The bronze dragon turned and twisted in the air to allow him to maintain his momentum towards her yet still avoid the majority of her acidic breath.

Once Aurigraphillienne’s devastating breath had worn out, Sappurapolician went in for the close strike.  His scaled jaw snapped open and his razor-like fangs bit deeply into Aurigraphillienne’s hide.  He could feel several scales snap under the intensity of the strike.  He also felt his own flesh come under attack as Starigonnilann launched a simultaneous counter attack.  The three dragons were again in the air together; but this time it was only for a split second before each veered off and separated from the others in order to regain speed and momentum.

The silver and the largest green once more came together.  Ausaphaborishan had enough time to bring his breath weapon into effect.  As the dragons charged through the air toward one another, Ausaphaborishan quickly unleashed another blast of cold breath from his mouth.  Kalliaxis took this blast head first, completely surprised at how quickly Ausaphaborishan’s breath had returned to him.  In spite of taking the attack head-on, Kalliaxis decided that she would sail through the cold attack and bite him as they passed one another.  Her teeth sunk in deeply into Ausaphaborishan and once again her mouth felt as though it would go completely numb from the coolness of Ausaphaborishan’s blood.

Knowing that his own destructive breath had been spent for a time, Ausaphaborishan decided that it was now time to come to the aid of his bronze companion.  So far Sappurapolician had done a decent job fending the two smaller green dragons off, but it was clear that their combined strength would eventually bring him down without someone to take off the heat.  Ausaphaborishan roared as his sailed downward to strike at the youngest of the green dragons.  “Try taking on my bite for a while, Aurigraphillienne!” 

The silver wyrm broadsided the young green dragon in midair and bit her hard.  She spun several times mid-flight before shooting her wings out to stabilize herself and catch a current of air.  Kalliaxis caught up to Ausaphaborishan after he had bit into the younger green dragon and returned the silver’s bite for one of her own.  Once more Ausaphaborishan felt the acidic bite from the largest of the green dragons.

By this point Sappurapolician had grown tired of being bitten by the two young upstart green dragons.  He decided that it was time to demonstrate what power he truly had within his mouth.  He watched as Ausaphaborishan bit the youngest of the greens and sent her spiraling in the direction of the ground.  As she shot out her wings to balance herself she unintentionally flew too close to her kin, Starigonnilann.  Sappurapolician smiled as the shot was lined up for him.  He swooped down and extended his neck to its fullest size.  His jaws opened and a solid blue bolt of electricity sprang forward out of his mouth, electrifying the air between him and the two younger green wyrms.  The air smelled of burned flesh as both dragons took the full force of the bronze dragon’s breath.

Starigonnilann was in decent position to counterattack against the bronze dragon; however, Aurigraphillienne was in a much weaker position.  She was closer to Sappurapolician and it was more difficult for her to turn and attack.  Aurigraphillienne was unable to complete the turn in an appropriate amount of space and as a result her bite attack sailed wide.  Starigonnilann’s assault was better timed than the attack from the youngest of the green dragons.  He swooped under the belly of Aurigraphillienne as she turned and used her body to disguise his approach.  At the last minute he surged up and once more bit deeply into Sappurapolician’s flesh.

Sappurapolician had begun to show great signs of being wounded and his flight had begun to slow down.  Ausaphaborishan felt slightly guilty for not immediately casting one of his healing spells upon his ally.  However, with both the smaller dragons coming in for a closer assault upon the bronze dragon Ausaphaborishan knew that they would be in a prime position to attack them with his devastating cold breath.  Ausaphaborishan waited just long enough for the bronze dragon to clear the area of effect before blasting the two younger green dragons.  Aurigraphillienne looked seriously wounded by the attack and begun to uncontrollably spiral towards the earth.

Ausaphaborishan was not the only dragon to have a breath assault prepared.  Immediately after releasing his devastating cold breath upon the green dragons, Ausaphaborishan felt acidic breath course over his own silver scales.  He had lost track of the eldest of the green dragons and Kalliaxis was making him pay for his tactical blindness.  What was worse than losing Kalliaxis was the fact that Ausaphaborishan had allowed himself to stray close enough to his bronze wyrm ally as to allow Kalliaxis to navigate such that he was included in the assault.  The bronze dragon winced heavily as the acidic spray also reached his scales.

Sappurapolician watched the youngest of the green dragons plummet to the earth and wanted to chase her and finish the fight.  However, he thought better of the assault and decided to let her go.  Instead, the bronze dragon continued to fly away from the battle so that he could heal some of his wounds.  His draconic voice erupted in a loud roar as he proclaimed his healing to the battlefield.  “Bondras-tol Shintar.  Be careful green dragons, I come for you!”  Some of the dragon’s wounds were sealed, but he was far from being completely healed.

Starigonnilann also thought about chasing after his badly damaged kin as she plummeted to the ground, but he knew that to do so would leave the eldest of the trio of dragons up in the sky alone with a very powerful silver wyrm and a bronze wyrm who was now invigorated.  He faked as though he were diving to help his kin but was secretly watching as the bronze returned to the battle.  At the last moment Starigonnilann readjusted his course so that he could capture both the silver wyrm and the bronze wyrm within the effects of his own acidic breath.  His attack was a success.

Sappurapolician cursed at the fact that his pride had led him into this trap.  He yelled to Ausaphaborishan to be careful.  “That one has a powerful breath.  The effects linger more than the others!”

Ausaphaborishan returned the yell with a spell of his own.  “ Bondras-tol Fundar!  Be healed and keep coming!  The battle is ours if we seize it!”  Ausaphaborishan spotted the fact that the youngest of the green dragons had managed to catch herself mid-flight before slamming into the ground.  He smiled as he noted that she still moved away to sulk in the forest.  “We’ve chased one foul beast from the sky, it is time to chase two more!”

Immediately after his proclamation, the Kalliaxis bit hard into Ausaphaborishan’s neck.  This attack drew even more of the freezing blood from his veins, but the silver dragon would not be denied.  His wings beat heavily to keep himself flying and his claws pushed hard against the body of Kalliaxis.  At just the right time Ausaphaborishan jerked his neck away and pushed hard with all four of his clawed feet.  The eldest of the green dragons fell away, releasing its hold on Ausaphaborishan’s neck.  Kalliaxis had all she could do to keep from colliding with Starigonnilann.

Sappurapolician felt his excitement grow as he noticed that the two green dragons were going to be so close together.  With a quick tuck of his wings, Sappurapolician dipped down into the proper angle and waited for the timing to be right.  Both of the green dragons were immediately so concerned with avoiding a midair collision that each of them lost sight of the bronze dragon.  Sappurapolician opened his mouth once more and unleashed a charge of electricity.  Much to the delight of Sappurapolician and Ausaphaborishan, the smell of nitrogen was quickly followed by the smell of burned flesh as both remaining green dragons were struck by Sappurapolician’s well timed strike.

Starigonnilann could feel his inner strength failing, but he knew that the strength of the bronze and silver dragons had to be weakening as well.  He spotted the silver wyrm making a wide turn to come in for a big strike.  Starigonnilann turned to the elder green dragon and started to plan an attack.  “Follow me in.  We’ll handle that silver!”  Kalliaxis nodded at the plan, grateful to have anyone besides her taking the beating from the silver dragon.

Starigonnilann approached the silver wyrm and noticed that Ausaphaborishan seemed to be smiling at the challenge.  In fact, the dragon seemed to be baiting him in.  Kalliaxis noticed this as well and decided to slow her approach behind Starigonnilann.  Starigonnilann drew close enough to the silver wyrm to lash out with a bite to the neck and the green dragon didn’t pass up the opportunity.  Ausaphaborishan accepted the blow and latched onto the green dragon in midair.  Even after the green dragon released Ausaphaborishan’s neck the silver dragon wouldn’t let go.

The two dragons twisted and turned as they wrestled in the air.  After several seconds the stronger silver began to win and slowed the spin to a controllable rotation.  His claws lifted Starigonnilann’s head in front of his own and he smiled for a lone second.  Starigonnilann looked on in horror, knowing that he was at the mercy of the silver now.  Ausaphaborishan waited one more slow revolution and opened his jaws wide.  The cold breath sprayed into the air, catching Starigonnilann point blank in the effect.  Yet Starigonnilann was not the only one affected.  The maneuver had nearly hypnotized Kalliaxis as the eldest green anticipated the devastating blow.  Kalliaxis did not realize that she had drifted into the range of the silver dragon’s breath as well.  Both green dragons felt the force of Ausaphaborishan’s icy breath.

The silver wyrm’s claws released the green dragon.  Starigonnilann and Kalliaxis realized what Aurigraphillienne already knew.  The silver and the bronze wyrms would not be defeated on this day.  The battle would be left to the red.  Together, the two remaining green dragons soared down to the treetops and entered the forest.  They would need time to heal their wounds and their pride.

Ausaphaborishan and Sappurapolician let them go.  There was no need to pursue that hunt.  There was a more powerful red to tackle and Llywessiar would appreciate their help.  They surged upward into the sky, determined to climb the altitude necessary to engage with Grixanthrosilithiss.

As they climbed in altitude, Ausaphaborishan heard Sappurapolician casting a spell on himself.  “Bondras-tol Shintar”  The wounds on the bronze dragon appeared to heal some more, although nowhere near complete.

Ausaphaborishan smiled as his own wings continued to beat hard.  “Here, let me give you some help with those.  Bondras-tol Fundar.”  The wounds on the bronze dragon healed even more, although it was still not near enough to completely heal the bronze dragon.  The silver was showing plenty of his own wounds as he added, “Now, let’s go tackle that red dragon.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Ausaphaborishan called out from behind Llywessiar. “For-citus, elicitus! Use magic if you’ve got it!” An invisible shield of force sprang into existence in front of him. He could hear each of his dragon allies call upon the same spell and bring up what little magical protection they could.

Grixanthrosilithiss stared on, trying to understand the tactics of the dragon squad approaching him. He wasn’t yet close enough to hear what Ausaphaborishan had said, but he could interpret the magical sign easily enough. “If you are going to use magic, then so shall I!” The red wyrm roared loud enough so that all of the rest of the dragons would be sure to hear him. “For-citus, elicitus”

Each of the green dragons heard the red wyrm’s challenge and was reminded to raise their own magical defenses. Kalliaxis spoke to the other two in her flight. “If nothing else, our magic can level the battlefield. For-citus, elicitus!” She heard the two green dragons behind her utter the same magical words to invoke their own magical defense.

Llywessiar’s eyelids narrowed as he focused on the red wyrm barreling through the air down at him. “Sappurapolician and Ausaphaborishan, listen well. You two turn and fight the greens. Ausaphaborishan, the red’s fiery breath would be devastating to your hide and I don’t want to risk that at the beginning since we are now outnumbered. He and I are immune to each other’s breath and I am sure I can take him alone until you both finish off those greens. And watch out for one another, you’re outnumbered!”

Ausaphaborishan laughed at the gold dragon’s closing comment. Without a sound, Sappurapolician pulled backwards away from the mountain and spun himself into an inside loop until he was flying down the mountain slope toward the greens. The silver dragon saw that his bronze ally was trying to dive below the trio of green dragons. It was a tactical maneuver that would keep them fighting in the air. The silver dragon turned more gracefully than his bronze ally and took a higher approach toward the three green dragons.

Since Sappurapolician had the advantage of both greater speed and gravity working in his favor, the bronze dragon dove below the level of the green wyrms. He suddenly unfurled his wings to the greatest width possible and his body jerked upward. His wings beat hard in order to not lose the moment that he had gained from his descent now that he was climbing and working against gravity. Sappurapolician’s plan worked, however. He approached the center of the flight of green dragons and his maneuver had caught them off-guard. As the bronze dragon flashed between all three dragons he exhaled his mighty electric breath.

Electricity sprang forward from his mouth, but not in the straight line that the flight of greens had expected. The electrical breath erupted in a circle around Sappurapolician’s head, catching all three of the green dragons in the electrical shock. The trio of green dragons was obviously surprised by this tactical maneuver.

The youngest of the three green dragons lashed out with the first volley in reply to Sappurapolician’s electrical assault. Its own acidic breath poured out of the dragon’s mouth and sprayed all over the bronze dragon’s scales. Sappurapolician felt the attack upon him and began to maneuver away, but it was already too late to avoid the effects of this dragon. Aurigraphillienne followed to pursue Sappurapolician.

Starigonnilann also fired a volley of its own acidic breath towards Sappurapolician. This dragon was not as accurate since Sappurapolician had already begun the process of taking defense maneuvers from the prior strike. The acidic breath still hit the bronze dragon; but the effect was not near as intense as from the younger green dragon. Starigonnilann followed Aurigraphillienne as she pushed forward to pursue the bronze wyrm.

Kalliaxis prepared to complement the breath attacks with one of her own. Before the largest green dragon was prepared to launch her attack she was blindsided by a blast of cold air. Quick and nimble reflexes allowed the green dragon to quickly duck out of the spray of the breath, but the damage had been done. Worse, the green dragon’s momentum had been lost. There was no way that it would be able to catch the bronze any more. Instead, she would have to focus on Ausaphaborishan, the silver dragon that had just blasted it with a spray of freezing breath.

Ausaphaborishan spoke after he blasted the eldest green dragon with icy breath. “I think two against one is more than fair odds for the younger members of your flight, Kalliaxis. Why don’t you try me on for size?”

Kalliaxis replied, “Well, if you insist! I’ll let you feel the brunt of my acidic breath!” The green dragon returned breath weapon for breath weapon and hit the larger silver dragon with a solid attack. 

Ausaphaborishan’s scales were covered in the corrosive acid, but the silver dragon was only mildly phased by the attack. Ausaphaborishan knew that now all the dragon breath had been expelled for a short amount of time and the battle would grow much tighter. The dragons would have to either run until their breath would be ready to use again or they would fight tooth, claw, and tail. The silver decided that since it had the upper hand in size that running should not be an option. The silver dragon turned in flight once more and flew straight towards the largest of the green dragons.

Kalliaxis took Ausaphaborishan up on the physical challenge. It noticed that the silver was planning on charging at her so she flew in fast and hard in return against his challenge. The dragons collided solidly in mid-flight, each dragon biting hard into the body of the other. The taste of acidic blood flowed into Ausaphaborishan’s mouth. Kalliaxis’ mouth turned bone chillingly cold as her own strike hit home and she tasted the blood of Ausaphaborishan. As both dragons began to plummet towards the earth they released their bites and separated, taking a bit of time to regain speed and come back for an attack.

While Kalliaxis and Ausaphaborishan struggled against each other, Sappurapolician struggled hard against the two smaller green dragons. Although he had avoided much of the effects of the breath of Starigonnilann, the acid continued to burn at his scales much longer than the breath of Aurigraphillienne. Sappurapolician fought through the pain of the clinging acid and performed an in-flight loop. He sailed skyward for just an instant before catching sight of the youngest green dragon behind him. Sappurapolician continued the loop so that he was now diving down straight toward the back of Aurigraphillienne.

Much like the older and larger pair before them, Aurigraphillienne and Sappurapolician locked tight in a bite upon each other. Electricity shot down Aurigraphillienne’s back as her teeth sank into Sappurapolician. While the two were locked together, Starigonnilann saw an opportunity to strike the otherwise engaged Sappurapolician. As the unengaged green dragon sailed past both of the other dragons he struck out with his front two feet and their razor sharp claws. One clawed foot managed to find Sappurapolician’s flesh and sink in deep. Sappurapolician roared out loud at the surprise attack and the three battling dragons once more separated.

Before leaving too far, Sappurapolician thought he could get in a quick strike from his tail. The tail slashed through the air, but it missed its mark. Aurigraphillienne and Starigonnilann knew enough to take advantage of the bronze wyrm’s miss. Each of them turned in midair so that they could line up a successful strike with their fangs against Sappurapolician’s rear flank. Their teeth sunk in hard and the bronze dragon howled in pain.

After the biting strike, the dragons truly separated to regain speed. Aurigraphillienne saw Sappurapolician’s approach for another strike. “Stay back,” she warned Starigonnilann, “I’m going to blast him again with my acidic breath.” Sappurapolician overheard the warning and was able to avoid the effects of her breath to a large extent. The bronze dragon turned and twisted in the air to allow him to maintain his momentum towards her yet still avoid the majority of her acidic breath.

Once Aurigraphillienne’s devastating breath had worn out, Sappurapolician went in for the close strike. His scaled jaw snapped open and his razor-like fangs bit deeply into Aurigraphillienne’s hide. He could feel several scales snap under the intensity of the strike. He also felt his own flesh come under attack as Starigonnilann launched a simultaneous counter attack. The three dragons were again in the air together; but this time it was only for a split second before each veered off and separated from the others in order to regain speed and momentum.

The silver and the largest green once more came together. Ausaphaborishan had enough time to bring his breath weapon into effect. As the dragons charged through the air toward one another, Ausaphaborishan quickly unleashed another blast of cold breath from his mouth. Kalliaxis took this blast head first, completely surprised at how quickly Ausaphaborishan’s breath had returned to him. In spite of taking the attack head-on, Kalliaxis decided that she would sail through the cold attack and bite him as they passed one another. Her teeth sunk in deeply into Ausaphaborishan and once again her mouth felt as though it would go completely numb from the coolness of Ausaphaborishan’s blood.

Knowing that his own destructive breath had been spent for a time, Ausaphaborishan decided that it was now time to come to the aid of his bronze companion. So far Sappurapolician had done a decent job fending the two smaller green dragons off, but it was clear that their combined strength would eventually bring him down without someone to take off the heat. Ausaphaborishan roared as his sailed downward to strike at the youngest of the green dragons. “Try taking on my bite for a while, Aurigraphillienne!” 

The silver wyrm broadsided the young green dragon in midair and bit her hard. She spun several times mid-flight before shooting her wings out to stabilize herself and catch a current of air. Kalliaxis caught up to Ausaphaborishan after he had bit into the younger green dragon and returned the silver’s bite for one of her own. Once more Ausaphaborishan felt the acidic bite from the largest of the green dragons.

By this point Sappurapolician had grown tired of being bitten by the two young upstart green dragons. He decided that it was time to demonstrate what power he truly had within his mouth. He watched as Ausaphaborishan bit the youngest of the greens and sent her spiraling in the direction of the ground. As she shot out her wings to balance herself she unintentionally flew too close to her kin, Starigonnilann. Sappurapolician smiled as the shot was lined up for him. He swooped down and extended his neck to its fullest size. His jaws opened and a solid blue bolt of electricity sprang forward out of his mouth, electrifying the air between him and the two younger green wyrms. The air smelled of burned flesh as both dragons took the full force of the bronze dragon’s breath.

Starigonnilann was in decent position to counterattack against the bronze dragon; however, Aurigraphillienne was in a much weaker position. She was closer to Sappurapolician and it was more difficult for her to turn and attack. Aurigraphillienne was unable to complete the turn in an appropriate amount of space and as a result her bite attack sailed wide. Starigonnilann’s assault was better timed than the attack from the youngest of the green dragons. He swooped under the belly of Aurigraphillienne as she turned and used her body to disguise his approach. At the last minute he surged up and once more bit deeply into Sappurapolician’s flesh.

Sappurapolician had begun to show great signs of being wounded and his flight had begun to slow down. Ausaphaborishan felt slightly guilty for not immediately casting one of his healing spells upon his ally. However, with both the smaller dragons coming in for a closer assault upon the bronze dragon Ausaphaborishan knew that they would be in a prime position to attack them with his devastating cold breath. Ausaphaborishan waited just long enough for the bronze dragon to clear the area of effect before blasting the two younger green dragons. Aurigraphillienne looked seriously wounded by the attack and begun to uncontrollably spiral towards the earth.

Ausaphaborishan was not the only dragon to have a breath assault prepared. Immediately after releasing his devastating cold breath upon the green dragons, Ausaphaborishan felt acidic breath course over his own silver scales. He had lost track of the eldest of the green dragons and Kalliaxis was making him pay for his tactical blindness. What was worse than losing Kalliaxis was the fact that Ausaphaborishan had allowed himself to stray close enough to his bronze wyrm ally as to allow Kalliaxis to navigate such that he was included in the assault. The bronze dragon winced heavily as the acidic spray also reached his scales.

Sappurapolician watched the youngest of the green dragons plummet to the earth and wanted to chase her and finish the fight. However, he thought better of the assault and decided to let her go. Instead, the bronze dragon continued to fly away from the battle so that he could heal some of his wounds. His draconic voice erupted in a loud roar as he proclaimed his healing to the battlefield. “Bondras-tol Shintar. Be careful green dragons, I come for you!” Some of the dragon’s wounds were sealed, but he was far from being completely healed.

Starigonnilann also thought about chasing after his badly damaged kin as she plummeted to the ground, but he knew that to do so would leave the eldest of the trio of dragons up in the sky alone with a very powerful silver wyrm and a bronze wyrm who was now invigorated. He faked as though he were diving to help his kin but was secretly watching as the bronze returned to the battle. At the last moment Starigonnilann readjusted his course so that he could capture both the silver wyrm and the bronze wyrm within the effects of his own acidic breath. His attack was a success.

Sappurapolician cursed at the fact that his pride had led him into this trap. He yelled to Ausaphaborishan to be careful. “That one has a powerful breath. The effects linger more than the others!”

Ausaphaborishan returned the yell with a spell of his own. “ Bondras-tol Fundar! Be healed and keep coming! The battle is ours if we seize it!” Ausaphaborishan spotted the fact that the youngest of the green dragons had managed to catch herself mid-flight before slamming into the ground. He smiled as he noted that she still moved away to sulk in the forest. “We’ve chased one foul beast from the sky, it is time to chase two more!”

Immediately after his proclamation, the Kalliaxis bit hard into Ausaphaborishan’s neck. This attack drew even more of the freezing blood from his veins, but the silver dragon would not be denied. His wings beat heavily to keep himself flying and his claws pushed hard against the body of Kalliaxis. At just the right time Ausaphaborishan jerked his neck away and pushed hard with all four of his clawed feet. The eldest of the green dragons fell away, releasing its hold on Ausaphaborishan’s neck. Kalliaxis had all she could do to keep from colliding with Starigonnilann.

Sappurapolician felt his excitement grow as he noticed that the two green dragons were going to be so close together. With a quick tuck of his wings, Sappurapolician dipped down into the proper angle and waited for the timing to be right. Both of the green dragons were immediately so concerned with avoiding a midair collision that each of them lost sight of the bronze dragon. Sappurapolician opened his mouth once more and unleashed a charge of electricity. Much to the delight of Sappurapolician and Ausaphaborishan, the smell of nitrogen was quickly followed by the smell of burned flesh as both remaining green dragons were struck by Sappurapolician’s well timed strike.

Starigonnilann could feel his inner strength failing, but he knew that the strength of the bronze and silver dragons had to be weakening as well. He spotted the silver wyrm making a wide turn to come in for a big strike. Starigonnilann turned to the elder green dragon and started to plan an attack. “Follow me in. We’ll handle that silver!” Kalliaxis nodded at the plan, grateful to have anyone besides her taking the beating from the silver dragon.

Starigonnilann approached the silver wyrm and noticed that Ausaphaborishan seemed to be smiling at the challenge. In fact, the dragon seemed to be baiting him in. Kalliaxis noticed this as well and decided to slow her approach behind Starigonnilann. Starigonnilann drew close enough to the silver wyrm to lash out with a bite to the neck and the green dragon didn’t pass up the opportunity. Ausaphaborishan accepted the blow and latched onto the green dragon in midair. Even after the green dragon released Ausaphaborishan’s neck the silver dragon wouldn’t let go.

The two dragons twisted and turned as they wrestled in the air. After several seconds the stronger silver began to win and slowed the spin to a controllable rotation. His claws lifted Starigonnilann’s head in front of his own and he smiled for a lone second. Starigonnilann looked on in horror, knowing that he was at the mercy of the silver now. Ausaphaborishan waited one more slow revolution and opened his jaws wide. The cold breath sprayed into the air, catching Starigonnilann point blank in the effect. Yet Starigonnilann was not the only one affected. The maneuver had nearly hypnotized Kalliaxis as the eldest green anticipated the devastating blow. Kalliaxis did not realize that she had drifted into the range of the silver dragon’s breath as well. Both green dragons felt the force of Ausaphaborishan’s icy breath.

The silver wyrm’s claws released the green dragon. Starigonnilann and Kalliaxis realized what Aurigraphillienne already knew. The silver and the bronze wyrms would not be defeated on this day. The battle would be left to the red. Together, the two remaining green dragons soared down to the treetops and entered the forest. They would need time to heal their wounds and their pride.

Ausaphaborishan and Sappurapolician let them go. There was no need to pursue that hunt. There was a more powerful red to tackle and Llywessiar would appreciate their help. They surged upward into the sky, determined to climb the altitude necessary to engage with Grixanthrosilithiss.

As they climbed in altitude, Ausaphaborishan heard Sappurapolician casting a spell on himself. “Bondras-tol Shintar” The wounds on the bronze dragon appeared to heal some more, although nowhere near complete.

Ausaphaborishan smiled as his own wings continued to beat hard. “Here, let me give you some help with those. Bondras-tol Fundar.” The wounds on the bronze dragon healed even more, although it was still not near enough to completely heal the bronze dragon. The silver was showing plenty of his own wounds as he added, “Now, let’s go tackle that red dragon.”
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Dec 2, 2006)

As the battle against the green dragons was waging below at a much lower elevation, the true battle for the control of the villagers was raging in the thin air above.  Llywessiar charged forward against Grixanthrosilithiss knowing that he would need to struggle hard to maintain his speed as he climbed.  The gold dragon could see that he had a size advantage and a speed advantage resulting from that size.  The one thing Grixanthrosilithiss had over the gold wyrm was maneuverability.  Their breath weapons were useless so long as Ausaphaborishan and Sappurapolician fought against the green dragons.  Both red and gold wyrms breathed fire and their own scales were designed to protect themselves from their own breath.  The effect of this was to essentially make the dragons immune to each other’s breath as well.

As the red wyrm dove down the mountainside toward Llywessiar, the gold dragon pulled up just a bit and took an approach circling around the red wyrm.  “Ul Fashiir-nuan”  Immediately a storm of ice battered the red dragon, pelting him hard as he surged to meet Llywessiar.  The red dragon roared in fury and the gold dragon merely laughed.  “Come, now, Grixanthrosilithiss.  You didn’t think I’d be unprepared, did you?”

The red wyrm roared once more in response.  “With your lackeys gone and the fight between the two of us I’d imagine you would take this battle more seriously than what small amount of damage you spells can do against me!”  The red wyrm was obviously bothered deeply by the effects of the cold.  He used his boiling rage to focus upon the object of his wrath.  He sailed down upon the gold dragon and bit towards Llywessiar.  The gold dragon deflected the blow away with one of his wings.

After Llywessiar deflected the blow he twisted his body around and ducked underneath the smaller red wyrm’s body.  The two dragons separated for a short time, circling each other and taking cautious attacks.  Several of these cautious blows missed in quick succession.  It was as though they were testing each other’s reflexes and speed of retaliation.

Finally, the gold dragon decided that he had enough of the maneuvering and dove in for a strong bite.  The gold dragon’s teeth crashed into the scaled body of the red.  The bite was solid and Llywessiar rather enjoyed the warmth of the red wyrm’s scales, but the bite was not at all serious.  The gold dragon knew that this battle would not end from one blow alone.  This was a battle of attrition on behalf of the wyrms.  There would be no lucky blows as well armored as these dragons were.  Rather than luck, there would only be the one who outlasted the other flying after they beat up on each other.

As Llywessiar bit hard at the red dragon, Grixanthrosilithiss returned the bite.  The teeth of the red were smaller overall, and from the bite Llywessiar knew immediately that if they could merely trade blows one for one that he had the upper hand.  His own bite was far worse than the bite of this younger red dragon.  Fortunately for the gold dragon, he was able to disguise this knowledge from the angry red wyrm.  Grixanthrosilithiss did not seem to recognize that his attack was inferior to the gold dragon’s bite.

Armed with this knowledge, Llywessiar turned away from the red dragon and once more flew in a great circle, watching his prey.  The red dragon returned his glare, obviously picking up speed for the next assault.  “You fly as though you are protecting your mating grounds, Grixanthrosilithiss!  I am no upstart red dragon coming in to challenge your territory.  I am a superior gold coming to throw you out!”

The red wyrm hissed a loud response.  “These are my people!  You have no right or business interfering with what I do to my own Drakontai!”

The red wyrm brought his wings down hard as he finished speaking.  He beat hard against the air, picking up as much speed as he possibly could.  Llywessiar responded with an equal amount of effort.  If the red wanted an upfront battle it would favor the gold anyway.

The dragons collided together in mid-air.  Llywessiar was not concerned about the ferocity of the red and opened up a less vital area for the red to attack.  The red wyrm took the offering and sunk his teeth into the tough shoulder scales of the gold dragon.  Grixanthrosilithiss was cautious as he approached; he tried to avoid positioning his body so that it was readily accessible to the gold dragon’s mouth.  

Yet, for some reason Llywessiar didn’t seem interested in biting him on this pass.  Just as Grixanthrosilithiss was forced to let go to prevent stalling in the middle of the flight he was struck by a solid object hard from behind.  Llywessiar had used his superior size to bring his tail around in a sweeping arc in a giant blow against the red dragon’s body.  For several seconds the red dragon’s body shook from the blow and as a result the red wyrm lost his flying momentum.  He began to drop in freefall toward the ground.  Before the ground could injure the dragon, the red wyrm was easily able to recover and catch the wind under his wings once more.

As he plummeted to the ground, Llywessiar shouted, “People are not owned as possessions, Grixanthrosilithiss!  You have no more right to own them than Ausaphaborishan has to own the Drakontos who summoned us and alerted us to your oppression.  I hope this truth blindsides you as much as my tail just did!”  The gold wyrm laughed as it watched Grixanthrosilithiss struggle to catch himself in flight.

When the red wyrm had begun to catch the wind under his wings, the gold dragon immediately started a dive directly aimed at the back of the red dragon.  Grixanthrosilithiss had been so concerned about reversing the stall and avoiding a lethal crash into the mountainside that he had ignored the position of the gold dragon.  Only at the last moment did he hear the whistling of the air over Llywessiar’s golden scales as the gold prepared to skewer Grixanthrosilithiss.

The last moment of warning didn’t allow Grixanthrosilithiss to maneuver out of the way.  It did allow him to shield his body so that the gold didn’t have a vulnerable spot to target.  It also allowed him to put himself in a position so that as the gold’s teeth sunk into his heavily armored back he could twist and get in a strike of his own.  The strike from the red wyrm hit the opposite shoulder on the gold dragon as his last blow had struck.  The blows that were traded between the dragons this time had been equal.

Llywessiar considered the even blows a victory.  His larger stature implied that he could take more punishment.  If the battle kept going along this path he would emerge the victor quite easily.  The gold dragon released the red wyrm’s back from his mouth and began to fly away in another great circle.  As they moved apart, Llywessiar challenged the red wyrm once more.  “I’d be more concerned about defending yourself, Grixanthrosilithiss!  It would seem as though you grow too increasingly weak to be able to defend the people you claim to own!”  The insults were a ploy to keep the fury of the red reflected onto him.  So far, it had worked.

Grixanthrosilithiss turned in the opposite direction, flying counterclockwise against the clockwise motion of Llywessiar.  This would set up another strike as the two circles would meet one hundred and eighty degrees from where their last clash had taken place.  As would be expected, the dragons tried to keep their circles on as flat of a pitch as possible.

Grixanthrosilithiss responded to the gold wyrm’s verbal challenge.  “My defense is now their defense.  So long as I still fly, they are my people.  If you want to take them from me, you will have to banish me from the sky!”

Llywessiar smiled as he thought of his obvious response.  The gold dragon began to beat his wings hard, tightening up his circle to bring the next clash even sooner.  His deep voice bellowed across the mountain peaks.  “That can certainly be arranged!”

The dragons once more collided, although luck favored the faster and larger gold dragon.  Rather than biting at the red or slamming his body in another mid-air collision, the gold veered away at precisely the moment that Grixanthrosilithiss attacked with his bite.  The red wyrm’s teeth found nothing except air.  As the gold dragon passed unharmed by the red dragon a golden tail solidly fell down upon one of Grixanthrosilithiss’ wings.  The force of the blow once more sent the red dragon into a downward spiral.  One more time the red dragon had to fight to control his flight; but eventually he managed to bring himself under control before reaching the sharp mountain cliffs jutting out from below.

The gold dragon called down to the red from his higher elevation.  “I can keep knocking you out of the sky, Grixanthrosilithiss.  How long can you afford to keep coming back up to meet me?  You’d be better off fleeing while you still have the strength to hobble home to your cave!”

Rage continued to burn within the red wyrm.  “I have never retreated in battle, and I shall not begin here!”

The red wyrm surged upward, choosing to take a direct approach against his adversary rather than swing around in a circle and slowly gain elevation.  This put him at an extreme disadvantage with regard to the force of blow that he could muster.  Llywessiar allowed Grixanthrosilithiss’ strike to come in once more, offering up another area of his massive shoulder to strike.  The gold retaliated with a blow of his own, once more slapping the red with his massive tail.  Grixanthrosilithiss seemed prepared for the tactic this time.  He dropped several feet at the blow, but easily spread his wings and caught himself.  

As Grixanthrosilithiss flew away he noticed that this last wound had managed to tear a few scales painfully away from the gold dragon’s hide.  There was now a soft spot of flesh that he could aim for should the gold wyrm offer that shoulder again.  Unfortunately for the red wyrm, it was unlikely that Llywessiar would be unaware of the painful wound and thus it would not be likely that Llywessiar allowed the red access to that particular shoulder area again.

As the red dragon flew clockwise around to match the gold dragon’s counterclockwise flight, he noticed that he was having difficulty keeping his flight level.  The battle thus far had been considerably strenuous.  The inability to rely on his powerful breath weapon had drawn this battle out much more than he had hoped.  He would need to finish this quickly if he hoped to win.

Grixanthrosilithiss focused hard upon the gold dragon as he completed the final turn.  He could see his opponent beat hard to increase his speed.  The red dragon mimicked the move and sped through the air as fast as he could muster.  The dragons collided in mid-air as they had done several times before.  Grixanthrosilithiss was right in that the gold would not open his weakened shoulder to attack.  The smaller red dragon decided to take what had been offered to him and bite at the base of the gold dragon’s neck.  The red bit as hard as he could as he simultaneously felt the stinging pain of Llywessiar’s teeth tearing solidly into his left front leg.  

Both wounds were costly to each of the dragons, but Grixanthrosilithiss decided to stick around for enough time to land another vicious bite.  The blow caught the gold dragon off-guard as the red wyrm got in a free shot near the gold wyrm’s softer belly.  Llywessiar was not without retort, however.  His golden tail once more sliced through the air.  This time the blow caught Grixanthrosilithiss directly across his neck.  It was a blow that would have killed many smaller dragons.

Fortunately the red wyrm’s neck was strong enough to take the punishment.  His neck was stiff from the blow, but he could manage.  The red wyrm allowed the tail strike to knock him from the sky and Grixanthrosilithiss planned on using the time to gather his strength and recuperate from the hard tail strike that he had just received.  The blow clouded his mind, judgment, and sight for a moment and he needed time to compose himself.

Grixanthrosilithiss did not see the bronze and silver dragons approaching from underneath.  They had successfully managed to chase off the green dragons by this point and were well on their way of coming to the aid of their golden leader.  Sappurapolician was the first to bite at the red wyrm; and his bite landed solidly upon the red wyrm’s shoulder.  Grixanthrosilithiss could feel one of his own scales rip free from his skin and out of the corner of his eye he could see it fluttering to the mountain surface below.

The red wyrm didn’t focus long on the missing scale.  Sappurapolician’s blow was quickly followed by a bite from Ausaphaborishan.  The silver had been flying in a tight formation behind the bronze dragon as they planned a quick successive barrage of attacks against the reeling red dragon.  After striking, they continued to fly in a tight formation.

Grixanthrosilithiss knew that he was nearly mortally wounded, but he also noticed that Sappurapolician and Ausaphaborishan were also significantly wounded.  He also saw a great strike potential against a silver dragon.  Silver dragons and red dragons have long been arch enemies and this would be an opportunity to assert the power of the red dragon in that long line of tension.  He waited as the pair of dragons circled back around for another strike.

The red wyrm had lost his focus on the most dangerous threat, however.  Grixanthrosilithiss’ immediate hatred against the silver dragon caused him to forget about Llywessiar.  The gold dragon noticed that the red was no longer paying attention to him as he circled from above.  As the bronze and the red dragons flew in to strike, Llywessiar dove from above.  He knew that he could reach Grixanthrosilithiss before they came into range.  Once more he flew by the red dragon and launched a vicious blow from his heavily armored tail.  

The blow caught Grixanthrosilithiss completely from surprise, but it no longer mattered to the red dragon.  His prey was coming into range now and the blow would only imply a minor course correction.  As both the bronze and silver dragons flew in rapid succession the red dragon smiled for an instant before opening his powerful jaws.  Pleasure coursed through his body as flame erupted from his mouth.  All battle long his body surged with the desire to unleash his powerful breath.  Now he had been presented with the perfect opportunity.

Sappurapolician and Ausaphaborishan had been prepared for this tactic.  Although the fire singed Sappurapolician he was able to twist and maneuver free from the attack with a minimal amount of damage while still maintaining his momentum.  As he twisted free of the flames he saw his target ahead and unleashed a blast of his own electric breath.  The intensity of the red coloration upon the dragon’s scales increased as the blue electrical energy sparked from scale to scale.  The red dragon smelled of burning flesh and nitrogen as the blast hit home.

Grixanthrosilithiss knew that he was clearly outmatched now.  He was weakening with every blow.  Furthermore, he watched as the silver dragon rolled through his flaming breath and survived.  While he had gotten in a good flaming strike, his attack had not brought either of the weakened dragons down.  Grixanthrosilithiss allowed himself to stall in mid-air and then fall into a dive toward the mountain face.

Ausaphaborishan flew away from the red dragon, choosing to follow the wounded bronze wyrm rather than pursue the red wyrm for the kill.  “Bondras-tol Fundar”  The bronze dragon healed much of the damage done to it by the red dragon’s flaming breath attack.  Satisfied, Ausaphaborishan called out to Grixanthrosilithiss.  “I give you fair warning, red dragon.  You are the enemy of my kind, and my chilling breath is ready to be used.  You have proven yourself to be a coward by enslaving people under you.  If you flee like the coward I know you to be, I will refrain from using my breath and destroying you.  If you return in your current condition, I am sure that you will be utterly destroyed.  The choice is yours.”

Upon hearing the challenge, Llywessiar broke off his pursuit of the red wyrm and returned to the elevation at which the bronze and silver dragons were flying.  The red wyrm slowly circled down to the mountain and landed on his perch as the silver spoke.  Ausaphaborishan’s words cut deeply into him.  He knew that he could not survive an attack from the silver dragon’s mouth.  Yet, he could no longer leave having been called a coward.  If other dragons knew that he had fled after being called a coward his land would perpetually be under attack from all kinds of evil dragons.

The red unfurled his long wings and leapt once more into the air.  He would likely die, but he would die in battle.  And if he had any luck he could take the silver dragon – or at least the bronze dragon – with him.  He beat his wings hard and pain shot through every muscle in his body.  The battle had taken its toll on him.

As the three dragons circled above him, Ausaphaborishan frowned.  “Get away from me, all of you.  My breath can harm each of you; I am as much of a danger to you now as is Grixanthrosilithiss.  Llywessiar, this is especially true of you and your fire that burns inside.  You are just as vulnerable against my breath as I am against the fire that burns inside you.  Grixanthrosilithiss comes against me.  I will claim responsibility for his destruction.”

The bronze and the gold dragons rose to a new elevation.  He could hear both Llywessiar and Sappurapolician casting healing spells upon the bronze dragon from above.  Ausaphaborishan’s focus did not waver.  As the red dragon flew into range, Ausaphaborishan opened his mighty jaws.  The icy breath sprayed forth, coating the surging red dragon’s head, neck, and shoulders with ice.

The red dragon didn’t have the strength to fight off the magical attack anymore.  The fire magic inside of himself that gave him strength ruptured forth as the ice magic overtook him.  In a massive magical explosion the red dragon erupted, spraying flesh and bones across the sky.  

Slowly, the other two dragons joined the silver wyrm.  The trio performed slow sweeping circles as they approached the tunnel entrance from above.  As they touched the ground, each of the dragons breathed deeply.  It was obvious that the red wyrm had been completely destroyed and his magic had been overcome.  A strong smell of ozone hung in the air.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
As the battle against the green dragons was waging below at a much lower elevation, the true battle for the control of the villagers was raging in the thin air above. Llywessiar charged forward against Grixanthrosilithiss knowing that he would need to struggle hard to maintain his speed as he climbed. The gold dragon could see that he had a size advantage and a speed advantage resulting from that size. The one thing Grixanthrosilithiss had over the gold wyrm was maneuverability. Their breath weapons were useless so long as Ausaphaborishan and Sappurapolician fought against the green dragons. Both red and gold wyrms breathed fire and their own scales were designed to protect themselves from their own breath. The effect of this was to essentially make the dragons immune to each other’s breath as well.

As the red wyrm dove down the mountainside toward Llywessiar, the gold dragon pulled up just a bit and took an approach circling around the red wyrm. “Ul Fashiir-nuan” Immediately a storm of ice battered the red dragon, pelting him hard as he surged to meet Llywessiar. The red dragon roared in fury and the gold dragon merely laughed. “Come, now, Grixanthrosilithiss. You didn’t think I’d be unprepared, did you?”

The red wyrm roared once more in response. “With your lackeys gone and the fight between the two of us I’d imagine you would take this battle more seriously than what small amount of damage you spells can do against me!” The red wyrm was obviously bothered deeply by the effects of the cold. He used his boiling rage to focus upon the object of his wrath. He sailed down upon the gold dragon and bit towards Llywessiar. The gold dragon deflected the blow away with one of his wings.

After Llywessiar deflected the blow he twisted his body around and ducked underneath the smaller red wyrm’s body. The two dragons separated for a short time, circling each other and taking cautious attacks. Several of these cautious blows missed in quick succession. It was as though they were testing each other’s reflexes and speed of retaliation.

Finally, the gold dragon decided that he had enough of the maneuvering and dove in for a strong bite. The gold dragon’s teeth crashed into the scaled body of the red. The bite was solid and Llywessiar rather enjoyed the warmth of the red wyrm’s scales, but the bite was not at all serious. The gold dragon knew that this battle would not end from one blow alone. This was a battle of attrition on behalf of the wyrms. There would be no lucky blows as well armored as these dragons were. Rather than luck, there would only be the one who outlasted the other flying after they beat up on each other.

As Llywessiar bit hard at the red dragon, Grixanthrosilithiss returned the bite. The teeth of the red were smaller overall, and from the bite Llywessiar knew immediately that if they could merely trade blows one for one that he had the upper hand. His own bite was far worse than the bite of this younger red dragon. Fortunately for the gold dragon, he was able to disguise this knowledge from the angry red wyrm. Grixanthrosilithiss did not seem to recognize that his attack was inferior to the gold dragon’s bite.

Armed with this knowledge, Llywessiar turned away from the red dragon and once more flew in a great circle, watching his prey. The red dragon returned his glare, obviously picking up speed for the next assault. “You fly as though you are protecting your mating grounds, Grixanthrosilithiss! I am no upstart red dragon coming in to challenge your territory. I am a superior gold coming to throw you out!”

The red wyrm hissed a loud response. “These are my people! You have no right or business interfering with what I do to my own Drakontai!”

The red wyrm brought his wings down hard as he finished speaking. He beat hard against the air, picking up as much speed as he possibly could. Llywessiar responded with an equal amount of effort. If the red wanted an upfront battle it would favor the gold anyway.

The dragons collided together in mid-air. Llywessiar was not concerned about the ferocity of the red and opened up a less vital area for the red to attack. The red wyrm took the offering and sunk his teeth into the tough shoulder scales of the gold dragon. Grixanthrosilithiss was cautious as he approached; he tried to avoid positioning his body so that it was readily accessible to the gold dragon’s mouth. 

Yet, for some reason Llywessiar didn’t seem interested in biting him on this pass. Just as Grixanthrosilithiss was forced to let go to prevent stalling in the middle of the flight he was struck by a solid object hard from behind. Llywessiar had used his superior size to bring his tail around in a sweeping arc in a giant blow against the red dragon’s body. For several seconds the red dragon’s body shook from the blow and as a result the red wyrm lost his flying momentum. He began to drop in freefall toward the ground. Before the ground could injure the dragon, the red wyrm was easily able to recover and catch the wind under his wings once more.

As he plummeted to the ground, Llywessiar shouted, “People are not owned as possessions, Grixanthrosilithiss! You have no more right to own them than Ausaphaborishan has to own the Drakontos who summoned us and alerted us to your oppression. I hope this truth blindsides you as much as my tail just did!” The gold wyrm laughed as it watched Grixanthrosilithiss struggle to catch himself in flight.

When the red wyrm had begun to catch the wind under his wings, the gold dragon immediately started a dive directly aimed at the back of the red dragon. Grixanthrosilithiss had been so concerned about reversing the stall and avoiding a lethal crash into the mountainside that he had ignored the position of the gold dragon. Only at the last moment did he hear the whistling of the air over Llywessiar’s golden scales as the gold prepared to skewer Grixanthrosilithiss.

The last moment of warning didn’t allow Grixanthrosilithiss to maneuver out of the way. It did allow him to shield his body so that the gold didn’t have a vulnerable spot to target. It also allowed him to put himself in a position so that as the gold’s teeth sunk into his heavily armored back he could twist and get in a strike of his own. The strike from the red wyrm hit the opposite shoulder on the gold dragon as his last blow had struck. The blows that were traded between the dragons this time had been equal.

Llywessiar considered the even blows a victory. His larger stature implied that he could take more punishment. If the battle kept going along this path he would emerge the victor quite easily. The gold dragon released the red wyrm’s back from his mouth and began to fly away in another great circle. As they moved apart, Llywessiar challenged the red wyrm once more. “I’d be more concerned about defending yourself, Grixanthrosilithiss! It would seem as though you grow too increasingly weak to be able to defend the people you claim to own!” The insults were a ploy to keep the fury of the red reflected onto him. So far, it had worked.

Grixanthrosilithiss turned in the opposite direction, flying counterclockwise against the clockwise motion of Llywessiar. This would set up another strike as the two circles would meet one hundred and eighty degrees from where their last clash had taken place. As would be expected, the dragons tried to keep their circles on as flat of a pitch as possible.

Grixanthrosilithiss responded to the gold wyrm’s verbal challenge. “My defense is now their defense. So long as I still fly, they are my people. If you want to take them from me, you will have to banish me from the sky!”

Llywessiar smiled as he thought of his obvious response. The gold dragon began to beat his wings hard, tightening up his circle to bring the next clash even sooner. His deep voice bellowed across the mountain peaks. “That can certainly be arranged!”

The dragons once more collided, although luck favored the faster and larger gold dragon. Rather than biting at the red or slamming his body in another mid-air collision, the gold veered away at precisely the moment that Grixanthrosilithiss attacked with his bite. The red wyrm’s teeth found nothing except air. As the gold dragon passed unharmed by the red dragon a golden tail solidly fell down upon one of Grixanthrosilithiss’ wings. The force of the blow once more sent the red dragon into a downward spiral. One more time the red dragon had to fight to control his flight; but eventually he managed to bring himself under control before reaching the sharp mountain cliffs jutting out from below.

The gold dragon called down to the red from his higher elevation. “I can keep knocking you out of the sky, Grixanthrosilithiss. How long can you afford to keep coming back up to meet me? You’d be better off fleeing while you still have the strength to hobble home to your cave!”

Rage continued to burn within the red wyrm. “I have never retreated in battle, and I shall not begin here!”

The red wyrm surged upward, choosing to take a direct approach against his adversary rather than swing around in a circle and slowly gain elevation. This put him at an extreme disadvantage with regard to the force of blow that he could muster. Llywessiar allowed Grixanthrosilithiss’ strike to come in once more, offering up another area of his massive shoulder to strike. The gold retaliated with a blow of his own, once more slapping the red with his massive tail. Grixanthrosilithiss seemed prepared for the tactic this time. He dropped several feet at the blow, but easily spread his wings and caught himself. 

As Grixanthrosilithiss flew away he noticed that this last wound had managed to tear a few scales painfully away from the gold dragon’s hide. There was now a soft spot of flesh that he could aim for should the gold wyrm offer that shoulder again. Unfortunately for the red wyrm, it was unlikely that Llywessiar would be unaware of the painful wound and thus it would not be likely that Llywessiar allowed the red access to that particular shoulder area again.

As the red dragon flew clockwise around to match the gold dragon’s counterclockwise flight, he noticed that he was having difficulty keeping his flight level. The battle thus far had been considerably strenuous. The inability to rely on his powerful breath weapon had drawn this battle out much more than he had hoped. He would need to finish this quickly if he hoped to win.

Grixanthrosilithiss focused hard upon the gold dragon as he completed the final turn. He could see his opponent beat hard to increase his speed. The red dragon mimicked the move and sped through the air as fast as he could muster. The dragons collided in mid-air as they had done several times before. Grixanthrosilithiss was right in that the gold would not open his weakened shoulder to attack. The smaller red dragon decided to take what had been offered to him and bite at the base of the gold dragon’s neck. The red bit as hard as he could as he simultaneously felt the stinging pain of Llywessiar’s teeth tearing solidly into his left front leg. 

Both wounds were costly to each of the dragons, but Grixanthrosilithiss decided to stick around for enough time to land another vicious bite. The blow caught the gold dragon off-guard as the red wyrm got in a free shot near the gold wyrm’s softer belly. Llywessiar was not without retort, however. His golden tail once more sliced through the air. This time the blow caught Grixanthrosilithiss directly across his neck. It was a blow that would have killed many smaller dragons.

Fortunately the red wyrm’s neck was strong enough to take the punishment. His neck was stiff from the blow, but he could manage. The red wyrm allowed the tail strike to knock him from the sky and Grixanthrosilithiss planned on using the time to gather his strength and recuperate from the hard tail strike that he had just received. The blow clouded his mind, judgment, and sight for a moment and he needed time to compose himself.

Grixanthrosilithiss did not see the bronze and silver dragons approaching from underneath. They had successfully managed to chase off the green dragons by this point and were well on their way of coming to the aid of their golden leader. Sappurapolician was the first to bite at the red wyrm; and his bite landed solidly upon the red wyrm’s shoulder. Grixanthrosilithiss could feel one of his own scales rip free from his skin and out of the corner of his eye he could see it fluttering to the mountain surface below.

The red wyrm didn’t focus long on the missing scale. Sappurapolician’s blow was quickly followed by a bite from Ausaphaborishan. The silver had been flying in a tight formation behind the bronze dragon as they planned a quick successive barrage of attacks against the reeling red dragon. After striking, they continued to fly in a tight formation.

Grixanthrosilithiss knew that he was nearly mortally wounded, but he also noticed that Sappurapolician and Ausaphaborishan were also significantly wounded. He also saw a great strike potential against a silver dragon. Silver dragons and red dragons have long been arch enemies and this would be an opportunity to assert the power of the red dragon in that long line of tension. He waited as the pair of dragons circled back around for another strike.

The red wyrm had lost his focus on the most dangerous threat, however. Grixanthrosilithiss’ immediate hatred against the silver dragon caused him to forget about Llywessiar. The gold dragon noticed that the red was no longer paying attention to him as he circled from above. As the bronze and the red dragons flew in to strike, Llywessiar dove from above. He knew that he could reach Grixanthrosilithiss before they came into range. Once more he flew by the red dragon and launched a vicious blow from his heavily armored tail. 

The blow caught Grixanthrosilithiss completely from surprise, but it no longer mattered to the red dragon. His prey was coming into range now and the blow would only imply a minor course correction. As both the bronze and silver dragons flew in rapid succession the red dragon smiled for an instant before opening his powerful jaws. Pleasure coursed through his body as flame erupted from his mouth. All battle long his body surged with the desire to unleash his powerful breath. Now he had been presented with the perfect opportunity.

Sappurapolician and Ausaphaborishan had been prepared for this tactic. Although the fire singed Sappurapolician he was able to twist and maneuver free from the attack with a minimal amount of damage while still maintaining his momentum. As he twisted free of the flames he saw his target ahead and unleashed a blast of his own electric breath. The intensity of the red coloration upon the dragon’s scales increased as the blue electrical energy sparked from scale to scale. The red dragon smelled of burning flesh and nitrogen as the blast hit home.

Grixanthrosilithiss knew that he was clearly outmatched now. He was weakening with every blow. Furthermore, he watched as the silver dragon rolled through his flaming breath and survived. While he had gotten in a good flaming strike, his attack had not brought either of the weakened dragons down. Grixanthrosilithiss allowed himself to stall in mid-air and then fall into a dive toward the mountain face.

Ausaphaborishan flew away from the red dragon, choosing to follow the wounded bronze wyrm rather than pursue the red wyrm for the kill. “Bondras-tol Fundar” The bronze dragon healed much of the damage done to it by the red dragon’s flaming breath attack. Satisfied, Ausaphaborishan called out to Grixanthrosilithiss. “I give you fair warning, red dragon. You are the enemy of my kind, and my chilling breath is ready to be used. You have proven yourself to be a coward by enslaving people under you. If you flee like the coward I know you to be, I will refrain from using my breath and destroying you. If you return in your current condition, I am sure that you will be utterly destroyed. The choice is yours.”

Upon hearing the challenge, Llywessiar broke off his pursuit of the red wyrm and returned to the elevation at which the bronze and silver dragons were flying. The red wyrm slowly circled down to the mountain and landed on his perch as the silver spoke. Ausaphaborishan’s words cut deeply into him. He knew that he could not survive an attack from the silver dragon’s mouth. Yet, he could no longer leave having been called a coward. If other dragons knew that he had fled after being called a coward his land would perpetually be under attack from all kinds of evil dragons.

The red unfurled his long wings and leapt once more into the air. He would likely die, but he would die in battle. And if he had any luck he could take the silver dragon – or at least the bronze dragon – with him. He beat his wings hard and pain shot through every muscle in his body. The battle had taken its toll on him.

As the three dragons circled above him, Ausaphaborishan frowned. “Get away from me, all of you. My breath can harm each of you; I am as much of a danger to you now as is Grixanthrosilithiss. Llywessiar, this is especially true of you and your fire that burns inside. You are just as vulnerable against my breath as I am against the fire that burns inside you. Grixanthrosilithiss comes against me. I will claim responsibility for his destruction.”

The bronze and the gold dragons rose to a new elevation. He could hear both Llywessiar and Sappurapolician casting healing spells upon the bronze dragon from above. Ausaphaborishan’s focus did not waver. As the red dragon flew into range, Ausaphaborishan opened his mighty jaws. The icy breath sprayed forth, coating the surging red dragon’s head, neck, and shoulders with ice.

The red dragon didn’t have the strength to fight off the magical attack anymore. The fire magic inside of himself that gave him strength ruptured forth as the ice magic overtook him. In a massive magical explosion the red dragon erupted, spraying flesh and bones across the sky. 

Slowly, the other two dragons joined the silver wyrm. The trio performed slow sweeping circles as they approached the tunnel entrance from above. As they touched the ground, each of the dragons breathed deeply. It was obvious that the red wyrm had been completely destroyed and his magic had been overcome. A strong smell of ozone hung in the air. 
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Dec 4, 2006)

Inside the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains, Ischarus used the magical light granted to him by his dragon father to easily traverse the tunnels between himself and the location that the party was supposed to be staying with the villagers.  Without having to guide Elistra or wait for anyone else, Ischarus was able to make better time than average.  In spite of this ability to move more quickly, Ischarus continued hard toward the underground chamber well after the draconic battle in the sky had ended.  Even at his greater speed it would be nearly a full day journey that deep into the ground.

Outside the mountain, the three dragons descended to the small level surface of land outside the tunnel entrance that Ischarus used to go underground.  Llywessiar looked to his dragon cohorts and smiled.  “That was a battle well fought.  It’ll take a few days for the villagers to come to us from their safety under the earth.  I suggest we take the days and recuperate while we protect the entrance from this side.”

Ausaphaborishan shook his large silver head from side to side as he replied to the leader of this draconic flight.  “We all have the ability to take human form, you know.  Why don’t we go into the tunnels after them?  We could still heal through our magic and meet them halfway!”

Llywessiar nodded in acceptance of the suggestion but frowned.  “I know that you are anxious, Ausaphaborishan.  In a way, through Ischarus these people are the fruit of your labor.  And I know that even if we were to take a more human form we would still be an aggressive force to be reckoned with.  But we can better serve the villagers underground by protecting the entrance and allowing the village to come to us.”

Sappurapolician continued where his flight leader had left off.  “And remember that these are people who are accustomed to dragon worship.  They will be more accepting of us if they see us in dragon form the first time.”

Ausaphaborishan conceded with a nod.  “I suppose you are correct, although I would rather go into the tunnels and ensure their safety.  May I at least contact the one they call Rhema and tell her to meet Ischarus halfway in the tunnels?”

Llywessiar smiled in return.  “I think that would be especially appropriate.  I wish I would be there to see Ischarus’ face when they meet him half-way.”

Ausaphaborishan laughed, spilling a deep rumble through the nearby forest.  “I believe he will appreciate our efforts.”  The silver dragon closed his reptilian eyes and concentrated upon Rhema, trying to discern her location under the ground.  After a few minutes of mental searching his face relaxed and he seemed satisfied.  “Rhema, this is Ausaphaborishan, Ischarus’ dragon father.  The path is safe for you to come into Tongra.  Ischarus has already been sent in to meet you.  Join him and come forth with the people that you protect.”

The silver dragon opened his eyes and Llywessiar nodded to him.  “A verbose message, but it’ll do the trick.” 

The bronze dragon smiled, “Leave it Ausaphaborishan to be verbose, of course.”

Deep within the mountain, Rhema was in the middle of a discussion with Tierna.  “But what I hear you saying is that we have enough water for the remainder of the shift rotation at least?”

Tierna turned to reply, but noticed that Rhema’s face suddenly turned pale.  Rhema’s eyes lost their focus and it appeared as though she were about to faint.  Tierna looked to Rhema and spoke out of concern.  “Rhema?  Are you alright?  Should you sit down?”

Rhema didn’t hear Tierna’s words.  Her mind was occupied now with the heavy bass speech of Ausaphaborishan.  The voice was not audible; that is to say that it could not be heard through one’s ears.  However, it did seem to echo through Rhema’s mind.  Even when the magical message had ended Rhema was still caught captive by the dragon’s deep rumbling voice.  After a minute her eyes returned to normal and the color came back into her face.  As her mind returned back to her present situation she looked back to Tierna, “What was I saying?”  A confused look came over her face.

Tierna looked on toward Rhema with amazement and spoke.  “You were talking about the water and food rationing and trying to decide how many water collection teams were going out tomorrow.  But you expect me to let you go back to that topic?  What just happened to you?”

Rhema blinked a few times and frowned.  Her mind was struggling to put together all of the pieces that she had received.  “I think I just received a magical message.”  Her voice filled with concern.  “Tierna, could you go find Semeion and Charis for me?  We’ll continue this discussion later.”

Tierna had since come to learn her new place among the villagers.  It had been a rough beginning at first because the people still attached her to the oppression they had suffered at the hands of their dragon father.  But the people eventually responded to her leadership, especially when she was paired with Rhema in rationing the supplies.  She would likely never be the leader of the people, but they respected the new role that she desired to play among them.  Knowing her place, Tierna nodded to Rhema.  “I’ll get them both.  Do me a favor and sit down, though.  You don’t need to take another spell like that until I get back with help.”

Rhema took Tierna’s advice and sat down on the cold hard stone floor as Tierna left the storage area.  Within a minute both Charis and Semeion burst into the room with worried looks upon their faces.  Tierna joined them and stood in the background.

Charis ran to Rhema’s side and knelt beside her.  “Rhema, Tierna says that something weird has happened to you?”

Rhema nodded to Charis but turned to Semeion.  “Semeion, I need your advice on an arcane matter.  I just received a message from someone claiming to be Ischarus’ dragon father.  He said that Ischarus is already in the tunnels coming to tell us that it is safe to come to the Tongra side of the mountains.  Does this make sense?”

Tierna gasped at the thought of Ischarus’ dragon father waiting for them.  Of course, that piece of information only confirmed that she had been wrong to resist in the beginning.  It also meant that the draconic father of the children she carried within her was most likely dead.  Her children were already fatherless without having even been born!  There would be nobody left to help these powerful children to learn how to use their draconic talents.

Semeion thought for a moment and nodded in the affirmative.  “My mentor used to use such messaging techniques with me, although I am certainly not capable of accomplishing a message of that distance.  But for a being as powerful in arcane matters as a dragon, I would think it quite possible.”

Charis turned to Semeion as she knelt beside Rhema.  “What’s the possibility that such a message could be faked?”

Semeion shook his head from side to side.  “Depending on how familiar Rhema is with Ischarus’ dragon father’s voice it could be quite likely.  I am assuming the message that you heard in your head sounded like Ischarus’ dragon father?”

Charis frowned.  “I wouldn’t really know.  I know that the message sounded like a dragon.  Or, I suppose I should say that the message didn’t sound like you or I at least.  The voice had too much bass and power behind it to be from someone like you or I.  But I wouldn’t know the voice of Ischarus’ dragon father well enough to know if it was real.”

Semeion replied, “But, you did say that Ischarus was coming down the tunnel?  We have a few tricks up our sleeve to meet him.  If the message is legitimate and it is really Ischarus, we’ll be able to know.  If we are walking into a trap and somehow the red dragon has managed to get a duplicate of Ischarus we should be able to sniff that out as well.”

Charis smiled, “Or, at least Elistra should be able to.  Our eyes might be able to be fooled, but Elistra knows Ischarus by smell if not by sight.”

Rhema smiled and nodded as she spoke in approval of the emerging plan.  “Yes, we could probably come up with a few tests to demonstrate whether the one that we meet is truly Ischarus.  If it is truly Ischarus, then the message of our deliverance is also true!”

Semeion turned to Tierna and gave her another task to accomplish.  “Tierna, go and get Druff and Xando about what has happened.  Tell Xando to send out a few squads to reclaim the water reclamation teams we just sent out and then have Druff and Xando return to us here.  And tell nobody else about what we have spoken of here.  We don’t need any disorganized flurry of excitement before we are ready to move based upon this information.”

Tierna nodded, turned, and left the room without a word.  Rhema looked to Semeion with a confused look and then she glanced to Charis before speaking.  “Could it be true?  Is Ischarus coming back victoriously to us?”

Charis embraced Rhema in a hug.  “I hope so, Rhema.  I was allowed to have Semeion returned to me.  I hope for your sake that this is also real.”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Inside the Tongra-Quehalost Mountains, Ischarus used the magical light granted to him by his dragon father to easily traverse the tunnels between himself and the location that the party was supposed to be staying with the villagers. Without having to guide Elistra or wait for anyone else, Ischarus was able to make better time than average. In spite of this ability to move more quickly, Ischarus continued hard toward the underground chamber well after the draconic battle in the sky had ended. Even at his greater speed it would be nearly a full day journey that deep into the ground.

Outside the mountain, the three dragons descended to the small level surface of land outside the tunnel entrance that Ischarus used to go underground. Llywessiar looked to his dragon cohorts and smiled. “That was a battle well fought. It’ll take a few days for the villagers to come to us from their safety under the earth. I suggest we take the days and recuperate while we protect the entrance from this side.”

Ausaphaborishan shook his large silver head from side to side as he replied to the leader of this draconic flight. “We all have the ability to take human form, you know. Why don’t we go into the tunnels after them? We could still heal through our magic and meet them halfway!”

Llywessiar nodded in acceptance of the suggestion but frowned. “I know that you are anxious, Ausaphaborishan. In a way, through Ischarus these people are the fruit of your labor. And I know that even if we were to take a more human form we would still be an aggressive force to be reckoned with. But we can better serve the villagers underground by protecting the entrance and allowing the village to come to us.”

Sappurapolician continued where his flight leader had left off. “And remember that these are people who are accustomed to dragon worship. They will be more accepting of us if they see us in dragon form the first time.”

Ausaphaborishan conceded with a nod. “I suppose you are correct, although I would rather go into the tunnels and ensure their safety. May I at least contact the one they call Rhema and tell her to meet Ischarus halfway in the tunnels?”

Llywessiar smiled in return. “I think that would be especially appropriate. I wish I would be there to see Ischarus’ face when they meet him half-way.”

Ausaphaborishan laughed, spilling a deep rumble through the nearby forest. “I believe he will appreciate our efforts.” The silver dragon closed his reptilian eyes and concentrated upon Rhema, trying to discern her location under the ground. After a few minutes of mental searching his face relaxed and he seemed satisfied. “Rhema, this is Ausaphaborishan, Ischarus’ dragon father. The path is safe for you to come into Tongra. Ischarus has already been sent in to meet you. Join him and come forth with the people that you protect.”

The silver dragon opened his eyes and Llywessiar nodded to him. “A verbose message, but it’ll do the trick.” 

The bronze dragon smiled, “Leave it Ausaphaborishan to be verbose, of course.”

Deep within the mountain, Rhema was in the middle of a discussion with Tierna. “But what I hear you saying is that we have enough water for the remainder of the shift rotation at least?”

Tierna turned to reply, but noticed that Rhema’s face suddenly turned pale. Rhema’s eyes lost their focus and it appeared as though she were about to faint. Tierna looked to Rhema and spoke out of concern. “Rhema? Are you alright? Should you sit down?”

Rhema didn’t hear Tierna’s words. Her mind was occupied now with the heavy bass speech of Ausaphaborishan. The voice was not audible; that is to say that it could not be heard through one’s ears. However, it did seem to echo through Rhema’s mind. Even when the magical message had ended Rhema was still caught captive by the dragon’s deep rumbling voice. After a minute her eyes returned to normal and the color came back into her face. As her mind returned back to her present situation she looked back to Tierna, “What was I saying?” A confused look came over her face.

Tierna looked on toward Rhema with amazement and spoke. “You were talking about the water and food rationing and trying to decide how many water collection teams were going out tomorrow. But you expect me to let you go back to that topic? What just happened to you?”

Rhema blinked a few times and frowned. Her mind was struggling to put together all of the pieces that she had received. “I think I just received a magical message.” Her voice filled with concern. “Tierna, could you go find Semeion and Charis for me? We’ll continue this discussion later.”

Tierna had since come to learn her new place among the villagers. It had been a rough beginning at first because the people still attached her to the oppression they had suffered at the hands of their dragon father. But the people eventually responded to her leadership, especially when she was paired with Rhema in rationing the supplies. She would likely never be the leader of the people, but they respected the new role that she desired to play among them. Knowing her place, Tierna nodded to Rhema. “I’ll get them both. Do me a favor and sit down, though. You don’t need to take another spell like that until I get back with help.”

Rhema took Tierna’s advice and sat down on the cold hard stone floor as Tierna left the storage area. Within a minute both Charis and Semeion burst into the room with worried looks upon their faces. Tierna joined them and stood in the background.

Charis ran to Rhema’s side and knelt beside her. “Rhema, Tierna says that something weird has happened to you?”

Rhema nodded to Charis but turned to Semeion. “Semeion, I need your advice on an arcane matter. I just received a message from someone claiming to be Ischarus’ dragon father. He said that Ischarus is already in the tunnels coming to tell us that it is safe to come to the Tongra side of the mountains. Does this make sense?”

Tierna gasped at the thought of Ischarus’ dragon father waiting for them. Of course, that piece of information only confirmed that she had been wrong to resist in the beginning. It also meant that the draconic father of the children she carried within her was most likely dead. Her children were already fatherless without having even been born! There would be nobody left to help these powerful children to learn how to use their draconic talents.

Semeion thought for a moment and nodded in the affirmative. “My mentor used to use such messaging techniques with me, although I am certainly not capable of accomplishing a message of that distance. But for a being as powerful in arcane matters as a dragon, I would think it quite possible.”

Charis turned to Semeion as she knelt beside Rhema. “What’s the possibility that such a message could be faked?”

Semeion shook his head from side to side. “Depending on how familiar Rhema is with Ischarus’ dragon father’s voice it could be quite likely. I am assuming the message that you heard in your head sounded like Ischarus’ dragon father?”

Charis frowned. “I wouldn’t really know. I know that the message sounded like a dragon. Or, I suppose I should say that the message didn’t sound like you or I at least. The voice had too much bass and power behind it to be from someone like you or I. But I wouldn’t know the voice of Ischarus’ dragon father well enough to know if it was real.”

Semeion replied, “But, you did say that Ischarus was coming down the tunnel? We have a few tricks up our sleeve to meet him. If the message is legitimate and it is really Ischarus, we’ll be able to know. If we are walking into a trap and somehow the red dragon has managed to get a duplicate of Ischarus we should be able to sniff that out as well.”

Charis smiled, “Or, at least Elistra should be able to. Our eyes might be able to be fooled, but Elistra knows Ischarus by smell if not by sight.”

Rhema smiled and nodded as she spoke in approval of the emerging plan. “Yes, we could probably come up with a few tests to demonstrate whether the one that we meet is truly Ischarus. If it is truly Ischarus, then the message of our deliverance is also true!”

Semeion turned to Tierna and gave her another task to accomplish. “Tierna, go and get Druff and Xando about what has happened. Tell Xando to send out a few squads to reclaim the water reclamation teams we just sent out and then have Druff and Xando return to us here. And tell nobody else about what we have spoken of here. We don’t need any disorganized flurry of excitement before we are ready to move based upon this information.”

Tierna nodded, turned, and left the room without a word. Rhema looked to Semeion with a confused look and then she glanced to Charis before speaking. “Could it be true? Is Ischarus coming back victoriously to us?”

Charis embraced Rhema in a hug. “I hope so, Rhema. I was allowed to have Semeion returned to me. I hope for your sake that this is also real.”
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Dec 7, 2006)

It took several hours for the villagers to become organized and gather up their blankets, tools, and weapons.  Rhema, Charis, and Semeion managed to arrange for the horses to carry the larger belongings that had been made while the villagers were underground.  In spite of this, there were two main factors causing the delay for such an ill equipped people.  

Although they had only what they could carry in the first place, part of the problem was sheer excitement.  Over the course of the past month the people had been told of their dragon father’s plan to exterminate them on account of their allowing the Provenience to be taken from them.  It took a little while for the ideas to sink in, but once the people were given enough time they realized just how close they had come to death for all.  The past month seemed so surreal that when the announcement was made that they would be traveling north many were simply stunned.  They were slow to pack because they couldn’t believe that is was actually happening.

The other part of the problem was that there were a few water reclamation teams already out in the caverns.  These teams needed to be located and then brought back to the village.  Once the teams were located, these villagers also needed time for it to become real.  All in all, the process of packing and finding the water reclamation teams had taken just over three hours.

Rhema fidgeted nervously as she looked over the villagers.  Charis smiled as she saw her nervousness and tried to ease her mind by talking.  “As long as the journey is, we’ll still leave well before Ischarus comes to get us, you know.”

Rhema smiled, “That’s even saying that Ischarus is coming and it isn’t some kind of trap.”

Semeion approached Rhema from behind and startled her by placing his hand upon her shoulder.  “Is that what your heart tells you is going to happen?”

Rhema looked over the villagers as she took a moment to think before speaking.  She slowly shook her head from side to side.  “No, that’s my brain thinking.  I know that Ischarus is a very capable leader and fighter.  I also know that we’ve gotten in and out of Quehalost many times without something going wrong.  But that’s just it.  My brain is convinced that something went wrong this time.  Sure, my heart tells me that we’ll meet in the tunnels and I’ll embrace him.  But my mind doesn’t buy it.”

Charis laughed at Rhema’s tension.  “Well, it does look like the villagers are about ready.  You’re the dungeon expert, Rhema.  Perhaps leading them will help ease your internal conflict.”

Rhema nodded.  “Let’s hope!”  Rhema patted Shauvry along the neck and swung up into the saddle so that she would be well above the heads of the rest of the villagers.  Shauvry’s saddlebags were full, but her added weight was not too much for the horse.  Shauvry shifted back a few steps and Rhema used the motion to help the horse turn so that it was facing the people.

Rhema sighed, knowing that she didn’t feel like being a leader right now.  Yet, she had to be their leader.  She breathed deeply and spoke loud enough for her voice to echo across the cavern.  “Freed people of Quehalost, sons and daughters of the dragon Grixanthrosilithiss, listen as I proclaim your freedom to you!”

The people cheered loudly.  They gestured upward into the air with their hands.  From somewhere near the back of the crowd Druff’s voice rang out over the people, “Long live the freedom fighters who have delivered us!” 

Another cheer carried through the people in response to Druff’s initial call.  Druff called out again in response to the people.  “For freedom!” 

Another loud cheer followed and Druff repeated the scene.  “For freedom!”  The people gave a third cheer, each one building in intensity upon the last.

Rhema lifted up her hands and the villagers quieted down.  She smiled as she caught Druff’s eyes from the back.  He had done a masterful job at getting them excited and motivated to listen to her.  “Today you begin a historic venture.  Never before have this many people from your village tasted the freedom outside Quehalost.  All that you need to do from this point on is put one foot in front of the other and follow me!”

The crowd cheered once more and Rhema lifted her hands to quiet them down after they had their fun.  “I will not lie to you, the tunnels will still be dangerous.  But we have lived under these mountains for almost an entire month, now.  One more day of travel and you will be free indeed!”

Again a chorus of cheers rang through the underground cavern.  One final time Rhema quieted the villagers down.  “I will ask Druff and Xando to select one of the defensive teams to guard the rear of our group.  Tierna, I want you to walk in the front with Charis, Semeion, and I.  The rest of you should file into the middle and follow the people in front of you!”

Rhema slipped off her horse as Tierna approached from deep within the crowd.  Rhema stepped forward, guiding Shauvry as she held the reigns in her hand.  Charis handed Elistra’s reigns to Tierna as she approached and allowed the newest Provenience to follow immediately beside Rhema.  Charis and Semeion followed as they led their horses as well.  With another great cheer the villagers pushed forward in motion.  It was time to leave this underground haven.

The villagers walked for several hours.  Rhema intentionally kept the pace slow so that they would not need to take rest breaks often.  She also knew that if they moved slowly enough that the denizens of the tunnels would have plenty of time to get out of their way.  They hadn’t been bothered upon entering the mountain passageways and she expected they wouldn’t be bothered leaving them.  A group this large would simply be too great a threat to try and take on.  Rhema wasn’t worried in any case.  The villagers had taken to Druff’s and Charis’ martial training well.  Most of them were quite skilled with their makeshift axes and clubs.

Around the sixth hour Rhema stopped short as her blood ran cold.  The villagers had long since been walking in mostly silence.  The excitement waned and the traveling became work.  She was accustomed to hearing the many footsteps behind her and nothing to the front.  Yet as she approached the next slight bend she thought she heard a shuffling of feet from ahead in the tunnel.  She stowed the sword that Semeion had enchanted so that it no longer shed light around the tunnel.  As her light dimmed, a murmur passed through the villagers behind.

Rhema breathed lightly.  “Tell them to be silent!”  Rhema hissed the command as she looked ahead and stepped forward.

Behind her, Semeion turned to silence those behind him and motioned for them to pass the message back through the ranks of people.  Charis handed Abijou’s reigns to Semeion and approached Tierna from behind.  She drew her heavy pick and spoke softly to Tierna from immediately behind her.  “I’m going up there to protect her.  Make sure you take Shauvry reigns and secure them.”

Tierna nodded, although Charis didn’t wait for any kind of response.  Charis’ was too occupied with peering forward and using her enhanced ability to see to the best of her ability.  Even her enhanced vision was all but useless in the pitch black darkness that enveloped her.

However, Rhema was not quite as defenseless as Charis had first thought.  Her race had long since developed the ability to see in complete darkness for a small radius around her body.  Rhema scanned the tunnel ahead, noting that there was nothing of importance before the bend.  She crept forward, staying to the side of the tunnel away from the direction of the bend.  As she stepped forward she carefully peered around the corner.  The tunnel ahead was just as dark as the tunnel behind her.

Suddenly, Rhema spotted movement ahead.  The movement was quick; but she had spotted it all the same.  It looked as though a head peeked around a corner for just an instant.  She didn’t think the head had come into view long enough for it to spot her.  Cautiously she whispered to Charis, “Shake your head if you can see me.”

She watched Charis as her head shook from side to side.  Rhema smiled, knowing that Charis was effectively walking blind.  She also knew that if Charis was walking blind then all the Drakontai were as blind as she was.  Rhema gingerly stepped forward as she tried to get into a better angle to see the figure ahead.

As she moved, her foot intentionally dragged along the bottom of the tunnel spilling a slight amount of dust across the floor.  It was a subtle enough sound that she figured it would get a reaction out of the figure ahead.  Her plan worked.  With the help of her ability to see in complete darkness Rhema saw the figure’s head pop out of its hiding place for just an instant.  It was a face she recognized.

She pulled her sword from out of its scabbard in a rapid motion, spilling light everywhere into the tunnel.  The effect was blinding upon all who could see the blade.  Her voice sounded hopeful as she called forth.  “Ischarus?”

The confused voice of her associate sounded from where the figure had been hidden.  “Rhema?  But, how?  You should be another five or six hours ahead of me!”  Ischarus stepped out into the open, squinting at the emergence of the bright light.  Cautiously he unsheathed his own blade.  The effect was to double the intensity of the light in the tunnel.

Rhema’s voice sounded much more confident after hearing Ischarus’ voice.  “Is it really you?”  There was a hint of emotional instability as her voice echoed through the tunnel.

Slowly, everyone’s eyes began to adjust to the light.  Ischarus lowered his blade and approached Rhema quickly.  As he did, Charis stepped around the corner and thrust her pick into Ischarus’ path.  She had a less than pleased look on her face.

Ischarus pulled up short of impaling himself on the pointed end of the pick. “Charis?  What’s wrong?”

Charis smiled.  She was glad to have caught Ischarus off-guard.  “And just how do we know that you really are Ischarus?  You could be an agent of my father dragon in disguise.”

Ischarus replied out of his confusion, “Have you lost your mind completely living underground for so long?”

Rhema shook her head.  “No, Ischarus.  She’s not insane.  We received a telepathic message from your dragon father saying that you were coming.  But we need to make sure it isn’t a trap.”  She motioned for Tierna to bring Elistra forward.

Smartly, Ischarus lowered his blade to the floor.  “There.  My weapon isn’t going to hurt anyone.  How about you lower yours, Charis?”

Charis responded with a smile and lowered her own pick.  She did not rest it upon the floor as Ischarus had done.  Rather, she kept it at her side.  “Hopefully you don’t mind our precaution.”

Ischarus also smiled.  “Of course not.  I’d rather you be cautious than foolhardy.  Do whatever it takes to prove I am who I say I am.”

Tierna brought Elistra forward and handed the reigns to Ischarus.  He smiled as soon as he saw his horse and reached out to touch her upon the nose.  Elistra snorted with a contented snuffle and shifted forward a step so that her whole nose would be within Ischarus’ reach.  Ischarus accepted her movement and allowed the horse to press its nose into his shoulder.  He slowly reached up and scratched behind the horse’s ears.

Ischarus turned to look at Rhema.  Her face was filled with tears as she spoke.  “Is it really you?  Is it true?”

Ischarus stepped back from Elistra and opened up his shoulder to accept Rhema.  She drew close to him rapidly and embraced him fully.  Her arms tucked up under his as he responded by embracing her in a hug as well.  A look of relief passed over his face and he said softly, “It is really me.  I have finally come for you all.”

Tierna spoke, careful not to interrupt the moment too horribly.  “Then it is true?  We are indeed free and you dragon father has beaten ours?”

Ischarus smiled again.  “Well, they didn’t let me stay there long enough to see it for myself, but if you got a message saying it was true then I would assume it is!”

A loud chorus of cheers rang out as the news of Ischarus’ coming and the proclamation of freedom was spread all the way to the back of the villager column.  Suddenly everyone felt like cheering and walking all over again.


[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
It took several hours for the villagers to become organized and gather up their blankets, tools, and weapons. Rhema, Charis, and Semeion managed to arrange for the horses to carry the larger belongings that had been made while the villagers were underground. In spite of this, there were two main factors causing the delay for such an ill equipped people. 

Although they had only what they could carry in the first place, part of the problem was sheer excitement. Over the course of the past month the people had been told of their dragon father’s plan to exterminate them on account of their allowing the Provenience to be taken from them. It took a little while for the ideas to sink in, but once the people were given enough time they realized just how close they had come to death for all. The past month seemed so surreal that when the announcement was made that they would be traveling north many were simply stunned. They were slow to pack because they couldn’t believe that is was actually happening.

The other part of the problem was that there were a few water reclamation teams already out in the caverns. These teams needed to be located and then brought back to the village. Once the teams were located, these villagers also needed time for it to become real. All in all, the process of packing and finding the water reclamation teams had taken just over three hours.

Rhema fidgeted nervously as she looked over the villagers. Charis smiled as she saw her nervousness and tried to ease her mind by talking. “As long as the journey is, we’ll still leave well before Ischarus comes to get us, you know.”

Rhema smiled, “That’s even saying that Ischarus is coming and it isn’t some kind of trap.”

Semeion approached Rhema from behind and startled her by placing his hand upon her shoulder. “Is that what your heart tells you is going to happen?”

Rhema looked over the villagers as she took a moment to think before speaking. She slowly shook her head from side to side. “No, that’s my brain thinking. I know that Ischarus is a very capable leader and fighter. I also know that we’ve gotten in and out of Quehalost many times without something going wrong. But that’s just it. My brain is convinced that something went wrong this time. Sure, my heart tells me that we’ll meet in the tunnels and I’ll embrace him. But my mind doesn’t buy it.”

Charis laughed at Rhema’s tension. “Well, it does look like the villagers are about ready. You’re the dungeon expert, Rhema. Perhaps leading them will help ease your internal conflict.”

Rhema nodded. “Let’s hope!” Rhema patted Shauvry along the neck and swung up into the saddle so that she would be well above the heads of the rest of the villagers. Shauvry’s saddlebags were full, but her added weight was not too much for the horse. Shauvry shifted back a few steps and Rhema used the motion to help the horse turn so that it was facing the people.

Rhema sighed, knowing that she didn’t feel like being a leader right now. Yet, she had to be their leader. She breathed deeply and spoke loud enough for her voice to echo across the cavern. “Freed people of Quehalost, sons and daughters of the dragon Grixanthrosilithiss, listen as I proclaim your freedom to you!”

The people cheered loudly. They gestured upward into the air with their hands. From somewhere near the back of the crowd Druff’s voice rang out over the people, “Long live the freedom fighters who have delivered us!” 

Another cheer carried through the people in response to Druff’s initial call. Druff called out again in response to the people. “For freedom!” 

Another loud cheer followed and Druff repeated the scene. “For freedom!” The people gave a third cheer, each one building in intensity upon the last.

Rhema lifted up her hands and the villagers quieted down. She smiled as she caught Druff’s eyes from the back. He had done a masterful job at getting them excited and motivated to listen to her. “Today you begin a historic venture. Never before have this many people from your village tasted the freedom outside Quehalost. All that you need to do from this point on is put one foot in front of the other and follow me!”

The crowd cheered once more and Rhema lifted her hands to quiet them down after they had their fun. “I will not lie to you, the tunnels will still be dangerous. But we have lived under these mountains for almost an entire month, now. One more day of travel and you will be free indeed!”

Again a chorus of cheers rang through the underground cavern. One final time Rhema quieted the villagers down. “I will ask Druff and Xando to select one of the defensive teams to guard the rear of our group. Tierna, I want you to walk in the front with Charis, Semeion, and I. The rest of you should file into the middle and follow the people in front of you!”

Rhema slipped off her horse as Tierna approached from deep within the crowd. Rhema stepped forward, guiding Shauvry as she held the reigns in her hand. Charis handed Elistra’s reigns to Tierna as she approached and allowed the newest Provenience to follow immediately beside Rhema. Charis and Semeion followed as they led their horses as well. With another great cheer the villagers pushed forward in motion. It was time to leave this underground haven.

The villagers walked for several hours. Rhema intentionally kept the pace slow so that they would not need to take rest breaks often. She also knew that if they moved slowly enough that the denizens of the tunnels would have plenty of time to get out of their way. They hadn’t been bothered upon entering the mountain passageways and she expected they wouldn’t be bothered leaving them. A group this large would simply be too great a threat to try and take on. Rhema wasn’t worried in any case. The villagers had taken to Druff’s and Charis’ martial training well. Most of them were quite skilled with their makeshift axes and clubs.

Around the sixth hour Rhema stopped short as her blood ran cold. The villagers had long since been walking in mostly silence. The excitement waned and the traveling became work. She was accustomed to hearing the many footsteps behind her and nothing to the front. Yet as she approached the next slight bend she thought she heard a shuffling of feet from ahead in the tunnel. She stowed the sword that Semeion had enchanted so that it no longer shed light around the tunnel. As her light dimmed, a murmur passed through the villagers behind.

Rhema breathed lightly. “Tell them to be silent!” Rhema hissed the command as she looked ahead and stepped forward.

Behind her, Semeion turned to silence those behind him and motioned for them to pass the message back through the ranks of people. Charis handed Abijou’s reigns to Semeion and approached Tierna from behind. She drew her heavy pick and spoke softly to Tierna from immediately behind her. “I’m going up there to protect her. Make sure you take Shauvry reigns and secure them.”

Tierna nodded, although Charis didn’t wait for any kind of response. Charis’ was too occupied with peering forward and using her enhanced ability to see to the best of her ability. Even her enhanced vision was all but useless in the pitch black darkness that enveloped her.

However, Rhema was not quite as defenseless as Charis had first thought. Her race had long since developed the ability to see in complete darkness for a small radius around her body. Rhema scanned the tunnel ahead, noting that there was nothing of importance before the bend. She crept forward, staying to the side of the tunnel away from the direction of the bend. As she stepped forward she carefully peered around the corner. The tunnel ahead was just as dark as the tunnel behind her.

Suddenly, Rhema spotted movement ahead. The movement was quick; but she had spotted it all the same. It looked as though a head peeked around a corner for just an instant. She didn’t think the head had come into view long enough for it to spot her. Cautiously she whispered to Charis, “Shake your head if you can see me.”

She watched Charis as her head shook from side to side. Rhema smiled, knowing that Charis was effectively walking blind. She also knew that if Charis was walking blind then all the Drakontai were as blind as she was. Rhema gingerly stepped forward as she tried to get into a better angle to see the figure ahead.

As she moved, her foot intentionally dragged along the bottom of the tunnel spilling a slight amount of dust across the floor. It was a subtle enough sound that she figured it would get a reaction out of the figure ahead. Her plan worked. With the help of her ability to see in complete darkness Rhema saw the figure’s head pop out of its hiding place for just an instant. It was a face she recognized.

She pulled her sword from out of its scabbard in a rapid motion, spilling light everywhere into the tunnel. The effect was blinding upon all who could see the blade. Her voice sounded hopeful as she called forth. “Ischarus?”

The confused voice of her associate sounded from where the figure had been hidden. “Rhema? But, how? You should be another five or six hours ahead of me!” Ischarus stepped out into the open, squinting at the emergence of the bright light. Cautiously he unsheathed his own blade. The effect was to double the intensity of the light in the tunnel.

Rhema’s voice sounded much more confident after hearing Ischarus’ voice. “Is it really you?” There was a hint of emotional instability as her voice echoed through the tunnel.

Slowly, everyone’s eyes began to adjust to the light. Ischarus lowered his blade and approached Rhema quickly. As he did, Charis stepped around the corner and thrust her pick into Ischarus’ path. She had a less than pleased look on her face.

Ischarus pulled up short of impaling himself on the pointed end of the pick. “Charis? What’s wrong?”

Charis smiled. She was glad to have caught Ischarus off-guard. “And just how do we know that you really are Ischarus? You could be an agent of my father dragon in disguise.”

Ischarus replied out of his confusion, “Have you lost your mind completely living underground for so long?”

Rhema shook her head. “No, Ischarus. She’s not insane. We received a telepathic message from your dragon father saying that you were coming. But we need to make sure it isn’t a trap.” She motioned for Tierna to bring Elistra forward.

Smartly, Ischarus lowered his blade to the floor. “There. My weapon isn’t going to hurt anyone. How about you lower yours, Charis?”

Charis responded with a smile and lowered her own pick. She did not rest it upon the floor as Ischarus had done. Rather, she kept it at her side. “Hopefully you don’t mind our precaution.”

Ischarus also smiled. “Of course not. I’d rather you be cautious than foolhardy. Do whatever it takes to prove I am who I say I am.”

Tierna brought Elistra forward and handed the reigns to Ischarus. He smiled as soon as he saw his horse and reached out to touch her upon the nose. Elistra snorted with a contented snuffle and shifted forward a step so that her whole nose would be within Ischarus’ reach. Ischarus accepted her movement and allowed the horse to press its nose into his shoulder. He slowly reached up and scratched behind the horse’s ears.

Ischarus turned to look at Rhema. Her face was filled with tears as she spoke. “Is it really you? Is it true?”

Ischarus stepped back from Elistra and opened up his shoulder to accept Rhema. She drew close to him rapidly and embraced him fully. Her arms tucked up under his as he responded by embracing her in a hug as well. A look of relief passed over his face and he said softly, “It is really me. I have finally come for you all.”

Tierna spoke, careful not to interrupt the moment too horribly. “Then it is true? We are indeed free and you dragon father has beaten ours?”

Ischarus smiled again. “Well, they didn’t let me stay there long enough to see it for myself, but if you got a message saying it was true then I would assume it is!”

A loud chorus of cheers rang out as the news of Ischarus’ coming and the proclamation of freedom was spread all the way to the back of the villager column. Suddenly everyone felt like cheering and walking all over again. 
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Dec 9, 2006)

Ischarus and Tierna made quick introductions since they had not met prior to seeing each other here for the first time.  The party quickly decided that Ischarus and Rhema should lead.  Ischarus graciously allowed Tierna to continue to guide Elistra so that Tierna could stay at the front among the rest of the party.  With both Ischarus and Rhema having weapons that radiated light the tunnel ahead seemed much less bothersome.

It was a grueling ten more hours of walking before the people finally reached the edge of the mountains.  Ischarus and Rhema guided them masterfully and there was little incident except for the occasional spider being caught of guard and scurrying away before the main column of villagers could get to it.  As they approached the tunnel entrance, Ischarus and Rhema could both see that it was night outside.  None of the dragons could be seen from so far within the tunnel.

Ischarus easily jumped back into the leadership role that he had given over to Rhema almost a month ago.  “Charis, tell the people to wait here.  Like I said before, I didn’t actually see the end of the battle and I don’t see any dragons waiting for us.  If the villagers stop here they should still be out of range from the red wyrm’s devastating breath.”

Rhema turned to say something to Ischarus but thought better of it.  She simply give Shauvry’s reigns to Tierna for the time being.  As Ischarus stepped forward, Rhema joined him.  Ischarus turned to chastise Rhema but this time he knew better as well.  There was no use arguing with her.  She had just regained him earlier in the day; she wasn’t about to risk losing him again so soon.

Ischarus motioned for her to stay behind him and she accepted the invitation graciously.  Regardless of whether she was a dungeon expert or not she knew better than to take a place on the front line, especially if there was one as capable of filling the role as Ischarus was.  Just before Ischarus could see the end of the tunnel within the radius of the illumination coming from his sword the magic within the sword winked out.  Rhema’s weapon still glowed as brightly as ever.

Ischarus held out his hand and stopped as soon as his sword lost its magical effect.  He stepped gingerly towards the end of the tunnel knowing full well that either the magic ran out or something was aware of his presence and had cancelled the magical effect.  Considering the light had glowed for over half a day, Ischarus wasn’t sure the magic hadn’t simply chosen a poor time to end.

Once Ischarus had gotten close enough to the tunnel entrance to see outside by the starlight he turned and motioned for Rhema to sheath her own weapon and follow him.  She eagerly accepted and crept closer to the end of the tunnel.  Once they were together again Ischarus began slowly moving forward.

As they approached five feet from the end of the tunnel a booming voice echoed down the length of the tunnel even to where the villagers had been halted.  “About time you figure out how to get through the tunnels!”  The deep draconic voice transitioned from speech to laughter.

Ischarus jumped at the sound of the voice, but smiled immediately afterward.  Rhema likewise jumped and drew her sword, bathing the tunnel in light.  Her mind eventually caught up with her actions and she paused for a moment before speaking.  “That voice!  I know that voice.  That was the voice that spoke to me in the tunnel!”

Before Ischarus could respond, the draconic voice bellowed out again.  “Well, child?  Are you going to introduce me to the one you have brought to meet me or not?  As you know, we have already spoken.  But I would like to make her acquaintance more officially.”

Rhema turned to Ischarus with surprise.  Ischarus smiled and extended out his hand towards Rhema.  “Come, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

As the dragon’s voice echoed throughout the tunnel, many of the villagers began to panic.  Thankfully Druff and Xando were prepared in the rear and Semeion and Charis had the front flank.  As Ausaphaborishan’s voice boomed and echoed throughout the chamber and was followed by the deep draconic laughter, several of the villagers began to yell in confusion.

Druff and Xando were at the back and unable to make out the dragon’s comments completely on account of the echo.  As the people began to panic, both Xando and Druff reassured them.  “We are still deep enough underground to not need to fear the mighty dragon breath!  Hold your ground!

Semeion and Charis were close enough to hear the dragon’s speech in addition to being able to see the body language of Ischarus and Rhema.  They quickly determined that it was indeed Ischarus’ dragon father and sent the word back through the crowd.  Semeion turned and shouted to those closest to him.  “All is well!”

Charis continued where Semeion had stopped.  “That is the dragon father we seek!  The truth of your freedom is verified!”  Slowly the immediate panic of the vilalgers turned into elation.  The crowd of villagers swelled towards Semeion and Charis as the message of their freedom was received further back into the crowd.

Ischarus and Rhema had but a short time to meet with Ausaphaborishan while the villagers were being brought under control.  Ischarus boldly stepped out of the tunnel with Rhema in tow.  He had clasped her hand tightly and beckoned her to follow with his eyes.  She followed eagerly.  She was ready to meet his dragon father for the first time.

As the pair left the tunnel to stand on the flat rock platform under the stars, Ausaphaborishan spoke to them.  This time his voice was much softer so that only the pair could hear him.  “Forgive my game that I played with you.  I could hear you coming for nearly a mile and I could feel the ground shaking even before that.  I ducked out of sight so that you would approach slowly.  At just the right time I caused the magic of your sword to cease, although I did not realize that your friend’s weapon was also enchanted.  I hoped to surprise you!”

Ischarus smiled and bowed deeply as his dragon father proudly told the tale of the planned deception.  “Indeed you did, dragon father.  Indeed you did.  I believe you also surprised Rhema, my companion here.”  He turned to face Rhema and continued speaking.  “Rhema, I would like to introduce you to Ausaphaborishan, my dragon father.”

Rhema was caught speechless.  She had never expected to be face to face with a dragon on such good terms.  Her initial instinct was to extend out her hand in greeting, but the dragon’s deep laughter at her action brought her to the realization of just how silly the gesture was.  Here was a creature that dwarfed her in size and did not even have hands.

Ischarus smiled at Rhema’s gesture.  He politely corrected her in a soft tone.  “Dragons do not shake hands, Rhema.  The proper greeting is a bow.”

Rhema bowed deeply as if on command.  The silver wyrm responded with a similar deep bow of his head and neck.  Before Rhema could stand upright again the dragon also raised his front right clawed foot.  He softly brought the foot up to Rhema’s head in order to tussle her hair.  As he did so, he continued to laugh.  “Do not fear, little one.  Many make the same mistake upon meeting dragons of all sorts.  But I can see why Ischarus has interest in you.  You have a zest for life and a strong desire to please.”

The silver dragon paused to allow Rhema to reply, but her reply was cut short by a loud commotion in the tunnels.  Apparently this was all the time that Ischarus and Rhema would have with Ischarus’ dragon father for the moment.  The villagers had been convinced of their freedom by Semeion and Charis and they surged forward to meet the dragon that had defeated their own dragon father.  As the villagers approached where the dragon stood, they instinctively stopped and bowed in worship.  One by one their knees hit the ground and their heads bowed low.

Ausaphaborishan laughed comfortingly, as if he were an amused parent.  “Ischarus, tell them to rise.  Tell them that you do not worship us like gods.  Tell them that we live among one another in peace, trading protection and wisdom for companionship.”

Ischarus turned, but he could see for himself by the expressions of the villagers that they had already heard.  Each and every one of the red wyrm’s Drakontai had a shocked look upon their face.  This was especially true of Tierna.  Ischarus could tell that he need not relay any message to these people.

Ausaphaborishan continued his speech.  “People of Quehalost, I welcome you to the free lands of Tongra.  But it is not I who should welcome you.  Stay here for one minute as I leave.  I caution you that when I return you will feel a true urge to run and hide, for I shall return with two more dragons.  The one who makes me look small will address you properly.”

Without waiting for a response, Ausaphaborishan unfurled his great wings as leapt off the platform of rock.  He circled once before turning toward the mountain face and beating his wings hard to surge upwards into the sky.  Llywessiar and Sappurapolician had both taken up a position higher in the mountain to rest, heal, and perhaps even nap while Ausaphaborishan guarded the entrance to the underground tunnel.  As the silver wyrm climbed to the proper height he could see that the other members of his flight were fast asleep.  The silver wyrm smiled and landed solidly beside each of the other dragons.

Both of the dragons jerked awake and rose to their feet as quickly as possible.  As they jerked awake, Ausaphaborishan leapt once more into the air and circled above them.  The silver wyrm addressed his flight leader as he circled.  “Llywessiar, the people have come and await your address.  I have warned them that three dragons will be returning, so they should hopefully not spook so easily.”

The gold dragon smiled.  “How did they greet you?  Were they timid, aggressive, or indifferent?”

Ausaphaborishan merely laughed.  “They bowed in worship.”

Sappurapolician laughed as well.  “Did you honestly expect anything less from the Drakontai of a red wyrm?  The have no doubt had obedience drilled into their heads from the day that they were conceived!”

Llywessiar replied, “Yes, indeed.  In that case they will need a gentle hand guiding them.”

Llywessiar and Sappurapolician joined Ausaphaborishan and took to the sky.  The trio descended down to the rock platform where the villagers awaited them.  All of the villagers had to return into the tunnels so that there would be room upon the platform for all three dragons.  Even with the villagers pressed back into the tunnel it was a tight squeeze.  Of course, the villagers had no trouble backing into the tunnel.  It was their natural instinct to want to flee out of the way of the gold dragon especially.

In spite of the terror, the villagers were awed by the trio of draconic beings.  The same could be said of Rhema, Ischarus, Charis, and Semeion.  This was as close as any of the people gathered had come to this many dragons at the same time.  It was simply amazing to watch the trio descend in great circular passes from the higher mountain peak onto the rock platform outside the tunnel.  

The dragons landed with Llywessiar in the center.  He was flanked by Ausaphaborishan to his left and Sappurapolician to his right.  It was clear that this would be an official meeting between Llywessiar and the villagers.

Llywessiar spoke confidently before the people.  “Freed people of Quehalost, your tyranny is over.”  The dragon paused, expecting some kind of cheer.  However, the gold dragon did not receive a cheer from the villagers.  In truth, most of the villagers strongly desired to cheer but their fear of the dragon was too much to overcome.  They simply stared back at the large gold dragon while in their worshipful kneeling position. 

Llywessiar continued his speech once he realized the people were unable to overcome their fear.  “You are about to taste freedom for the first time.  No, actually, you have been living in freedom for almost a month now.  But it has not been complete freedom.  You had the freedom to work and play when you wanted but you still lived in fear that your dragon father would find you.  I saw the destruction of your dragon father.  He was given the option of fleeing with his life but in his arrogance he forced us to slay him.  In the end, for you it is better to have that conclusion.  You need not fear him any longer!”

The gold wyrm paused once more to allow cheering; but when it was obvious that the people could still not overcome their fear he quickly continued.  “Yet you will need training to live in this world.  In many respects it is easier to live in bondage.  Your daily tasks are told to you.  You are told what to think and what to believe.  You are told what to do and how to worship.  None of this is true any longer.  With freedom comes the ability to make up your own mind.  You will need training to live in this world.  Who is the leader among you?”

The villagers looked around at one another.  There was nobody who rose immediately and slowly all eyes fell onto Druff and Xando.  They were kneeling beside one another and both could feel the pressure from the rest of the villagers.  Llywessiar could also see that these two were the ones to whom the others looked.

The gold dragon spoke directly to Druff and Xando.  “Rise, children, and tell me your names.”

Druff and Xando slowly raised themselves up in unison, standing above the rest of the kneeling villagers.  Druff turned to Xando, who introduced himself first.  Xando turned and introduced Druff.

The yellow dragon smiled and brought his long neck into the cave to allow himself a closer inspection of the men.  This meant that a dozen or so of the villagers fell directly beneath the dragon’s long neck.  These villagers bowed completely to the ground, pressing their foreheads against the cold stone.

Llywessiar looked closely at the two and then pulled his head back out of the cave.  “Ischarus has told me about both of you.  I find you to be a good selection if you are so willing.  As I said, you will all need training to live in this world.  I offer you the opportunity to become my children.  You will have me as your dragon father and your people will be grafted into my own.  My people will teach you about freedom and about worship.  Your people will teach my people about life in Quehalost.  I will provide what you need to live and your people will prosper under my protection.  Is this favorable to you?”

The villagers who were still on their knees all bowed at once as if controlled by a single mind.  Each of them reached back into their tradition of showing acceptance to their own red dragon father by bowing in submission.  It was an automatic response for all except Druff and Xando who were no longer kneeling.  

Instead, each of these two men stood proud.  Xando looked directly at the gold dragon and smiled.  “My people accept your offer.  My people are your people.  Your people are my people.”

Druff called out once more to the people.  “On your feet, Drakontai!  Greet your new dragon father with a cheer!”

The villagers rose in unison and cheered.  Yet Llywessiar could see that there was one among the villagers who was not cheering as fervently as the rest.  The dragon caught this one’s eye and spoke loudly, quieting the villagers and allowing them to return to their knees.  “Child, why do you look sad?”

All of the villagers, including Druuf and Xando, returned to their knees.  From her knees Tierna replied to the gold dragon.  “I am my old dragon father’s Provenience.  What is to become of me?”

Llywessiar looked lovingly to Tierna.  His draconic eyes filled with compassion and he spoke softly to her.  “Rise, child, and come to me.”

Tierna rose without hesitation and stepped toward the gold dragon.  Her body was trembling in fear, but she knew that this dragon did not expect to motivate his people through fear.  She approached him not knowing what was to come next.

Llywessiar smiled and continued to speak softly to her.  “Ischarus tells me that you have children growing within you and that your children are of a dragon heritage.  Your children should not come into this world without a dragon father to teach them about their talents.  They will need my help to learn how to use the passion they inherit from their true father.  So long as you are willing, I will be their dragon father.  Furthermore, if you are willing I will introduce you to my own Provenience.  She will teach you what it means to share in my powers and guide the people rather than to be used and discarded as would have happened under your own dragon father.”

Tierna bowed deeply and replied as she bowed.  “I accept you as my new dragon father and the father of my children.”  Tears began to stream down her face once she realized that the gold dragon had sensed her need and worked to eliminate her concern.  She had come so far and was likely rare in being able to claim Provenience under two different dragons.  Her original fear was that the gold dragon would want her children destroyed because of their obvious tie to the red wyrm.  But this was not to come to pass.  Her children would not only live, but they would live in an environment that was not based on fear.  They would be taught how to properly use the gifts of a direct draconic lineage.

Sappurapolician looked to the other dragons.  “These people have come a long way, as have we on this day.  We should rest here tonight and leave in the morning.  I doubt anything in the land will bother us as we travel if we travel by day.”

Rhema was feeling particularly brave as she engaged the large bronze dragon in conversation.  “Plus, if we travel by day these people can experience our country and our way of living.”

Llywessiar smiled at the woman his dragon son had chosen.  “A valid point indeed, Rhema.”  He turned to the other dragons and continued, “I was able to receive enough rest earlier in the day.  You two return to the mountain perch to sleep and watch from above.  I will watch over my people.  We’ll leave at first light.”

The gold dragon also turned to his newly adopted people.  “You have also come a long way.  You will need your rest.  Tomorrow we begin a much longer journey than you have come so far.  The journey is easier, but it will challenge you in your own right.  You should sleep and rest now so that we can make good time in the morning.”

With the gold dragon’s concluding directions the silver and bronze dragons took to the sky once more and climbed to the skyward perch.  The villagers began to sprawl at the tunnel entrance.  Night watches were established by Druff, Xando, and their men.  Llywessiar aided them by casting magical light upon their weapons as well.  

For the first time in over a month Rhema, Charis, Ischarus, and Semeion stood together again.  They huddled in a tight circle at the edge of the perch overlooking the valley.  The intent had been to trade tales.  Ischarus had not heard about Semeion’s heroic sacrifice for Tierna’s sake.  Nobody had heard Ischarus’ tale about traveling to Barghost to raise the Assembly of Virtuous Dragons.  Charis and Rhema needed to tell Ischarus about the struggles and successes in the underground venture over the course of nearly a month.  They begun to tell the tales, but they all discovered that they were much more tired than they had earlier thought.  Before long the foursome broke up into pairs.

Ischarus and Rhema returned to the tunnel first, looking for a place to unroll their blankets.  Ischarus spoke softly, “I couldn’t help but think of you the whole time I was away.  I kept praying that you would be safe from the red wyrm.  I hoped that your numbers would be sufficient to overcome the gnolls or kobolds that dwell in the deep.  I’ll sleep better tonight knowing you are beside me now.”

That sentiment was all that Rhema needed to here.  She felt exactly the same as she lay upon her blanket.  She turned into Ischarus so that her head was resting upon his shoulder and his arm was around her.  “I know what you mean.  Tonight will be the best sleep I’ve had for a month.”

A strange smile passed over her face as she looked up to Ischarus.  Ischarus saw the smile and couldn’t help reflecting it back at her.  “What’s that look for?”

Rhema smiled even broader.  “Not the way we planned it, sir.  But, another job well done!  It was another successful venture into Quehalost for the purpose of fighting against evil.”

Ischarus hugged her tightly with the arm that was around her.  “And people saved from oppression.  All in all, we’ve reason to sleep well tonight.”

Outside the cave, Semeion and Charis sat on the ledge.  Charis had a thoughtful look in her eyes as she glanced over the forest below.  It was lit from above by the stars.  The long shadows cast by the tops of the trees were hypnotic as a light wind swayed the trees back and forth.  She went several minutes without saying a word.

Semeion embraced her in a tight hug from behind, wrapping both of his arms around her as he sat behind her.  “You ever wonder what might’ve happened if you and Tierna had switched places?”

Charis chuckled at the thought.  “In a way, that’s not too far from what I was thinking.  My people have found a home, Semeion.  My people are safe.”

Semeion smiled at the thought.  “Safer than we’ll be most of our lives, that’s for sure!  Do you plan to return with them and your new dragon father to Barghost?”

Charis smiled.  It was a bittersweet moment for her.  “No.  I can’t leave the three of you to bungle your way through Quehalost again!  My people will be in good hands.  I’m sure to some level I’ll be adopted into Llywessiar’s clan as well.  But I could never leave the three of you.  I could never leave you, Semeion.  From the day you gave my parched throat some water you have taught me about compassion.”

Semeion pulled Charis even closer into his body.  He leaned his forehead against the back of her head and smiled, although he knew she couldn’t see the smile.  “Well then, I suppose there is only one more thing that needs clarified.  Your people have found a new home.  Tierna will have a new dragon father to help bring her draconic bred children into the world.  So that leaves you.”

Charis looked back out across the forest.  A slight tear came to her eyes as she realized how well life had worked out for her fellow Drakontai.  Semeion continued speaking, not knowing of the presence of the tear.  “You will be my Provenience, then.”  Semeion had clearly emphasized the word “my.”

Charis leaned back into the young mage.  Another tear came to her eyes and she decided not to fight it.  This tear represented that just like her own people her life had turned out better than she could have hoped.  Considering that she realized her destiny was to be bred to a dragon until she could conceive no longer and then be consumed, she had come far in defeating that destiny.  She had surmounted so much evil intent in the world which had been directed at her.  She had witnessed the destruction of a force designed to hurt the lives of those who dwelled upon the earth.  Her life had become a living testimony of bitterness overcome.

THE END​
[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Ischarus and Tierna made quick introductions since they had not met prior to seeing each other here for the first time. The party quickly decided that Ischarus and Rhema should lead. Ischarus graciously allowed Tierna to continue to guide Elistra so that Tierna could stay at the front among the rest of the party. With both Ischarus and Rhema having weapons that radiated light the tunnel ahead seemed much less bothersome.

It was a grueling ten more hours of walking before the people finally reached the edge of the mountains. Ischarus and Rhema guided them masterfully and there was little incident except for the occasional spider being caught of guard and scurrying away before the main column of villagers could get to it. As they approached the tunnel entrance, Ischarus and Rhema could both see that it was night outside. None of the dragons could be seen from so far within the tunnel.

Ischarus easily jumped back into the leadership role that he had given over to Rhema almost a month ago. “Charis, tell the people to wait here. Like I said before, I didn’t actually see the end of the battle and I don’t see any dragons waiting for us. If the villagers stop here they should still be out of range from the red wyrm’s devastating breath.”

Rhema turned to say something to Ischarus but thought better of it. She simply give Shauvry’s reigns to Tierna for the time being. As Ischarus stepped forward, Rhema joined him. Ischarus turned to chastise Rhema but this time he knew better as well. There was no use arguing with her. She had just regained him earlier in the day; she wasn’t about to risk losing him again so soon.

Ischarus motioned for her to stay behind him and she accepted the invitation graciously. Regardless of whether she was a dungeon expert or not she knew better than to take a place on the front line, especially if there was one as capable of filling the role as Ischarus was. Just before Ischarus could see the end of the tunnel within the radius of the illumination coming from his sword the magic within the sword winked out. Rhema’s weapon still glowed as brightly as ever.

Ischarus held out his hand and stopped as soon as his sword lost its magical effect. He stepped gingerly towards the end of the tunnel knowing full well that either the magic ran out or something was aware of his presence and had cancelled the magical effect. Considering the light had glowed for over half a day, Ischarus wasn’t sure the magic hadn’t simply chosen a poor time to end.

Once Ischarus had gotten close enough to the tunnel entrance to see outside by the starlight he turned and motioned for Rhema to sheath her own weapon and follow him. She eagerly accepted and crept closer to the end of the tunnel. Once they were together again Ischarus began slowly moving forward.

As they approached five feet from the end of the tunnel a booming voice echoed down the length of the tunnel even to where the villagers had been halted. “About time you figure out how to get through the tunnels!” The deep draconic voice transitioned from speech to laughter.

Ischarus jumped at the sound of the voice, but smiled immediately afterward. Rhema likewise jumped and drew her sword, bathing the tunnel in light. Her mind eventually caught up with her actions and she paused for a moment before speaking. “That voice! I know that voice. That was the voice that spoke to me in the tunnel!”

Before Ischarus could respond, the draconic voice bellowed out again. “Well, child? Are you going to introduce me to the one you have brought to meet me or not? As you know, we have already spoken. But I would like to make her acquaintance more officially.”

Rhema turned to Ischarus with surprise. Ischarus smiled and extended out his hand towards Rhema. “Come, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

As the dragon’s voice echoed throughout the tunnel, many of the villagers began to panic. Thankfully Druff and Xando were prepared in the rear and Semeion and Charis had the front flank. As Ausaphaborishan’s voice boomed and echoed throughout the chamber and was followed by the deep draconic laughter, several of the villagers began to yell in confusion.

Druff and Xando were at the back and unable to make out the dragon’s comments completely on account of the echo. As the people began to panic, both Xando and Druff reassured them. “We are still deep enough underground to not need to fear the mighty dragon breath! Hold your ground!

Semeion and Charis were close enough to hear the dragon’s speech in addition to being able to see the body language of Ischarus and Rhema. They quickly determined that it was indeed Ischarus’ dragon father and sent the word back through the crowd. Semeion turned and shouted to those closest to him. “All is well!”

Charis continued where Semeion had stopped. “That is the dragon father we seek! The truth of your freedom is verified!” Slowly the immediate panic of the vilalgers turned into elation. The crowd of villagers swelled towards Semeion and Charis as the message of their freedom was received further back into the crowd.

Ischarus and Rhema had but a short time to meet with Ausaphaborishan while the villagers were being brought under control. Ischarus boldly stepped out of the tunnel with Rhema in tow. He had clasped her hand tightly and beckoned her to follow with his eyes. She followed eagerly. She was ready to meet his dragon father for the first time.

As the pair left the tunnel to stand on the flat rock platform under the stars, Ausaphaborishan spoke to them. This time his voice was much softer so that only the pair could hear him. “Forgive my game that I played with you. I could hear you coming for nearly a mile and I could feel the ground shaking even before that. I ducked out of sight so that you would approach slowly. At just the right time I caused the magic of your sword to cease, although I did not realize that your friend’s weapon was also enchanted. I hoped to surprise you!”

Ischarus smiled and bowed deeply as his dragon father proudly told the tale of the planned deception. “Indeed you did, dragon father. Indeed you did. I believe you also surprised Rhema, my companion here.” He turned to face Rhema and continued speaking. “Rhema, I would like to introduce you to Ausaphaborishan, my dragon father.”

Rhema was caught speechless. She had never expected to be face to face with a dragon on such good terms. Her initial instinct was to extend out her hand in greeting, but the dragon’s deep laughter at her action brought her to the realization of just how silly the gesture was. Here was a creature that dwarfed her in size and did not even have hands.

Ischarus smiled at Rhema’s gesture. He politely corrected her in a soft tone. “Dragons do not shake hands, Rhema. The proper greeting is a bow.”

Rhema bowed deeply as if on command. The silver wyrm responded with a similar deep bow of his head and neck. Before Rhema could stand upright again the dragon also raised his front right clawed foot. He softly brought the foot up to Rhema’s head in order to tussle her hair. As he did so, he continued to laugh. “Do not fear, little one. Many make the same mistake upon meeting dragons of all sorts. But I can see why Ischarus has interest in you. You have a zest for life and a strong desire to please.”

The silver dragon paused to allow Rhema to reply, but her reply was cut short by a loud commotion in the tunnels. Apparently this was all the time that Ischarus and Rhema would have with Ischarus’ dragon father for the moment. The villagers had been convinced of their freedom by Semeion and Charis and they surged forward to meet the dragon that had defeated their own dragon father. As the villagers approached where the dragon stood, they instinctively stopped and bowed in worship. One by one their knees hit the ground and their heads bowed low.

Ausaphaborishan laughed comfortingly, as if he were an amused parent. “Ischarus, tell them to rise. Tell them that you do not worship us like gods. Tell them that we live among one another in peace, trading protection and wisdom for companionship.”

Ischarus turned, but he could see for himself by the expressions of the villagers that they had already heard. Each and every one of the red wyrm’s Drakontai had a shocked look upon their face. This was especially true of Tierna. Ischarus could tell that he need not relay any message to these people.

Ausaphaborishan continued his speech. “People of Quehalost, I welcome you to the free lands of Tongra. But it is not I who should welcome you. Stay here for one minute as I leave. I caution you that when I return you will feel a true urge to run and hide, for I shall return with two more dragons. The one who makes me look small will address you properly.”

Without waiting for a response, Ausaphaborishan unfurled his great wings as leapt off the platform of rock. He circled once before turning toward the mountain face and beating his wings hard to surge upwards into the sky. Llywessiar and Sappurapolician had both taken up a position higher in the mountain to rest, heal, and perhaps even nap while Ausaphaborishan guarded the entrance to the underground tunnel. As the silver wyrm climbed to the proper height he could see that the other members of his flight were fast asleep. The silver wyrm smiled and landed solidly beside each of the other dragons.

Both of the dragons jerked awake and rose to their feet as quickly as possible. As they jerked awake, Ausaphaborishan leapt once more into the air and circled above them. The silver wyrm addressed his flight leader as he circled. “Llywessiar, the people have come and await your address. I have warned them that three dragons will be returning, so they should hopefully not spook so easily.”

The gold dragon smiled. “How did they greet you? Were they timid, aggressive, or indifferent?”

Ausaphaborishan merely laughed. “They bowed in worship.”

Sappurapolician laughed as well. “Did you honestly expect anything less from the Drakontai of a red wyrm? The have no doubt had obedience drilled into their heads from the day that they were conceived!”

Llywessiar replied, “Yes, indeed. In that case they will need a gentle hand guiding them.”

Llywessiar and Sappurapolician joined Ausaphaborishan and took to the sky. The trio descended down to the rock platform where the villagers awaited them. All of the villagers had to return into the tunnels so that there would be room upon the platform for all three dragons. Even with the villagers pressed back into the tunnel it was a tight squeeze. Of course, the villagers had no trouble backing into the tunnel. It was their natural instinct to want to flee out of the way of the gold dragon especially.

In spite of the terror, the villagers were awed by the trio of draconic beings. The same could be said of Rhema, Ischarus, Charis, and Semeion. This was as close as any of the people gathered had come to this many dragons at the same time. It was simply amazing to watch the trio descend in great circular passes from the higher mountain peak onto the rock platform outside the tunnel. 

The dragons landed with Llywessiar in the center. He was flanked by Ausaphaborishan to his left and Sappurapolician to his right. It was clear that this would be an official meeting between Llywessiar and the villagers.

Llywessiar spoke confidently before the people. “Freed people of Quehalost, your tyranny is over.” The dragon paused, expecting some kind of cheer. However, the gold dragon did not receive a cheer from the villagers. In truth, most of the villagers strongly desired to cheer but their fear of the dragon was too much to overcome. They simply stared back at the large gold dragon while in their worshipful kneeling position. 

Llywessiar continued his speech once he realized the people were unable to overcome their fear. “You are about to taste freedom for the first time. No, actually, you have been living in freedom for almost a month now. But it has not been complete freedom. You had the freedom to work and play when you wanted but you still lived in fear that your dragon father would find you. I saw the destruction of your dragon father. He was given the option of fleeing with his life but in his arrogance he forced us to slay him. In the end, for you it is better to have that conclusion. You need not fear him any longer!”

The gold wyrm paused once more to allow cheering; but when it was obvious that the people could still not overcome their fear he quickly continued. “Yet you will need training to live in this world. In many respects it is easier to live in bondage. Your daily tasks are told to you. You are told what to think and what to believe. You are told what to do and how to worship. None of this is true any longer. With freedom comes the ability to make up your own mind. You will need training to live in this world. Who is the leader among you?”

The villagers looked around at one another. There was nobody who rose immediately and slowly all eyes fell onto Druff and Xando. They were kneeling beside one another and both could feel the pressure from the rest of the villagers. Llywessiar could also see that these two were the ones to whom the others looked.

The gold dragon spoke directly to Druff and Xando. “Rise, children, and tell me your names.”

Druff and Xando slowly raised themselves up in unison, standing above the rest of the kneeling villagers. Druff turned to Xando, who introduced himself first. Xando turned and introduced Druff.

The yellow dragon smiled and brought his long neck into the cave to allow himself a closer inspection of the men. This meant that a dozen or so of the villagers fell directly beneath the dragon’s long neck. These villagers bowed completely to the ground, pressing their foreheads against the cold stone.

Llywessiar looked closely at the two and then pulled his head back out of the cave. “Ischarus has told me about both of you. I find you to be a good selection if you are so willing. As I said, you will all need training to live in this world. I offer you the opportunity to become my children. You will have me as your dragon father and your people will be grafted into my own. My people will teach you about freedom and about worship. Your people will teach my people about life in Quehalost. I will provide what you need to live and your people will prosper under my protection. Is this favorable to you?”

The villagers who were still on their knees all bowed at once as if controlled by a single mind. Each of them reached back into their tradition of showing acceptance to their own red dragon father by bowing in submission. It was an automatic response for all except Druff and Xando who were no longer kneeling. 

Instead, each of these two men stood proud. Xando looked directly at the gold dragon and smiled. “My people accept your offer. My people are your people. Your people are my people.”

Druff called out once more to the people. “On your feet, Drakontai! Greet your new dragon father with a cheer!”

The villagers rose in unison and cheered. Yet Llywessiar could see that there was one among the villagers who was not cheering as fervently as the rest. The dragon caught this one’s eye and spoke loudly, quieting the villagers and allowing them to return to their knees. “Child, why do you look sad?”

All of the villagers, including Druuf and Xando, returned to their knees. From her knees Tierna replied to the gold dragon. “I am my old dragon father’s Provenience. What is to become of me?”

Llywessiar looked lovingly to Tierna. His draconic eyes filled with compassion and he spoke softly to her. “Rise, child, and come to me.”

Tierna rose without hesitation and stepped toward the gold dragon. Her body was trembling in fear, but she knew that this dragon did not expect to motivate his people through fear. She approached him not knowing what was to come next.

Llywessiar smiled and continued to speak softly to her. “Ischarus tells me that you have children growing within you and that your children are of a dragon heritage. Your children should not come into this world without a dragon father to teach them about their talents. They will need my help to learn how to use the passion they inherit from their true father. So long as you are willing, I will be their dragon father. Furthermore, if you are willing I will introduce you to my own Provenience. She will teach you what it means to share in my powers and guide the people rather than to be used and discarded as would have happened under your own dragon father.”

Tierna bowed deeply and replied as she bowed. “I accept you as my new dragon father and the father of my children.” Tears began to stream down her face once she realized that the gold dragon had sensed her need and worked to eliminate her concern. She had come so far and was likely rare in being able to claim Provenience under two different dragons. Her original fear was that the gold dragon would want her children destroyed because of their obvious tie to the red wyrm. But this was not to come to pass. Her children would not only live, but they would live in an environment that was not based on fear. They would be taught how to properly use the gifts of a direct draconic lineage.

Sappurapolician looked to the other dragons. “These people have come a long way, as have we on this day. We should rest here tonight and leave in the morning. I doubt anything in the land will bother us as we travel if we travel by day.”

Rhema was feeling particularly brave as she engaged the large bronze dragon in conversation. “Plus, if we travel by day these people can experience our country and our way of living.”

Llywessiar smiled at the woman his dragon son had chosen. “A valid point indeed, Rhema.” He turned to the other dragons and continued, “I was able to receive enough rest earlier in the day. You two return to the mountain perch to sleep and watch from above. I will watch over my people. We’ll leave at first light.”

The gold dragon also turned to his newly adopted people. “You have also come a long way. You will need your rest. Tomorrow we begin a much longer journey than you have come so far. The journey is easier, but it will challenge you in your own right. You should sleep and rest now so that we can make good time in the morning.”

With the gold dragon’s concluding directions the silver and bronze dragons took to the sky once more and climbed to the skyward perch. The villagers began to sprawl at the tunnel entrance. Night watches were established by Druff, Xando, and their men. Llywessiar aided them by casting magical light upon their weapons as well. 

For the first time in over a month Rhema, Charis, Ischarus, and Semeion stood together again. They huddled in a tight circle at the edge of the perch overlooking the valley. The intent had been to trade tales. Ischarus had not heard about Semeion’s heroic sacrifice for Tierna’s sake. Nobody had heard Ischarus’ tale about traveling to Barghost to raise the Assembly of Virtuous Dragons. Charis and Rhema needed to tell Ischarus about the struggles and successes in the underground venture over the course of nearly a month. They begun to tell the tales, but they all discovered that they were much more tired than they had earlier thought. Before long the foursome broke up into pairs.

Ischarus and Rhema returned to the tunnel first, looking for a place to unroll their blankets. Ischarus spoke softly, “I couldn’t help but think of you the whole time I was away. I kept praying that you would be safe from the red wyrm. I hoped that your numbers would be sufficient to overcome the gnolls or kobolds that dwell in the deep. I’ll sleep better tonight knowing you are beside me now.”

That sentiment was all that Rhema needed to here. She felt exactly the same as she lay upon her blanket. She turned into Ischarus so that her head was resting upon his shoulder and his arm was around her. “I know what you mean. Tonight will be the best sleep I’ve had for a month.”

A strange smile passed over her face as she looked up to Ischarus. Ischarus saw the smile and couldn’t help reflecting it back at her. “What’s that look for?”

Rhema smiled even broader. “Not the way we planned it, sir. But, another job well done! It was another successful venture into Quehalost for the purpose of fighting against evil.”

Ischarus hugged her tightly with the arm that was around her. “And people saved from oppression. All in all, we’ve reason to sleep well tonight.”

Outside the cave, Semeion and Charis sat on the ledge. Charis had a thoughtful look in her eyes as she glanced over the forest below. It was lit from above by the stars. The long shadows cast by the tops of the trees were hypnotic as a light wind swayed the trees back and forth. She went several minutes without saying a word.

Semeion embraced her in a tight hug from behind, wrapping both of his arms around her as he sat behind her. “You ever wonder what might’ve happened if you and Tierna had switched places?”

Charis chuckled at the thought. “In a way, that’s not too far from what I was thinking. My people have found a home, Semeion. My people are safe.”

Semeion smiled at the thought. “Safer than we’ll be most of our lives, that’s for sure! Do you plan to return with them and your new dragon father to Barghost?”

Charis smiled. It was a bittersweet moment for her. “No. I can’t leave the three of you to bungle your way through Quehalost again! My people will be in good hands. I’m sure to some level I’ll be adopted into Llywessiar’s clan as well. But I could never leave the three of you. I could never leave you, Semeion. From the day you gave my parched throat some water you have taught me about compassion.”

Semeion pulled Charis even closer into his body. He leaned his forehead against the back of her head and smiled, although he knew she couldn’t see the smile. “Well then, I suppose there is only one more thing that needs clarified. Your people have found a new home. Tierna will have a new dragon father to help bring her draconic bred children into the world. So that leaves you.”

Charis looked back out across the forest. A slight tear came to her eyes as she realized how well life had worked out for her fellow Drakontai. Semeion continued speaking, not knowing of the presence of the tear. “You will be my Provenience, then.” Semeion had clearly emphasized the word “my.”

Charis leaned back into the young mage. Another tear came to her eyes and she decided not to fight it. This tear represented that just like her own people her life had turned out better than she could have hoped. Considering that she realized her destiny was to be bred to a dragon until she could conceive no longer and then be consumed, she had come far in defeating that destiny. She had surmounted so much evil intent in the world which had been directed at her. She had witnessed the destruction of a force designed to hurt the lives of those who dwelled upon the earth. Her life had become a living testimony of bitterness overcome.


THE END​[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Dec 9, 2006)

EPILOGUE:​
Four days later, a casually dressed and road weary party of four rode into Fingerdale on horseback.  The hoods of their cloaks were pulled up tight, although when they crossed under the city gates they each reached up and removed their hoods.  This sudden movement allowed the light of day to cascade upon their faces.  Each one of them sighed as they crossed under the familiar gate.

Semeion laughed and spoke first.  “Remember the last time we were here?  Charis was sick, and you two tried to convince me that she was carrying half-dragon children like Tierna!”

Ischarus smiled as he searched the surroundings.  Rhema decided to bite on Semeion’s inquiry. “I honestly don’t think that I’ve ever seen you quite so angry, either.”

Charis laughed.  “I wish I wouldn’t have passed out so I could have witnessed that!”  She turned in her saddle toward Semeion and added, “Well, I’ve no fear of that diagnosis until something drastically changes to my fourth finger on my left hand!”

The foursome laughed at the insinuation.  It was clear by their actions that they were searching the town of Fingerdale with a purpose.  They rode through the streets at a leisurely pace for about fifteen minutes before Rhema exclaimed in joy.  “There it is!”

Ischarus followed the point of her finger to an old building that looked as though it had seen better days.  “Really?  I’d have expected him to live in a better place than that!”

Rhema smiled.  “Well, apparently the outside of his house is really quite nice, he just disguises it with a spell all the time to make it look worse than it is.  He says it keeps out nosey people who come looking for him.”

Semeion smiled.  “Well, I’ll have to remember that when I become famous.”

Charis replied to the mage’s assertion with a smile upon her face.  “I don’t expect to live in some kind of dump!”

Ischarus dismounted and slipped Elistra’s reigns into Rhema’s hand for her hold.  He walked up the steps, careful not to step on what appeared to be loose boards.  He safely arrived at the top of the stairs and used the brass knocker to solidly bang upon the door.  Only seconds later the door opened all by itself.  Thinking himself brave, Ischarus stepped two paces into the house and then stopped.

When the doors opened, it exposed an elaborate wooden hallway.  A gold chair rail extended the length of the hallway on both sides.  Along the hallway were arches leading into side rooms.  The arches were constructed of a rare red and gray marble.  The plaster along the ceiling was sculpted, depicting a scene of several dragons above everyone’s head as they entered the house.

From outside the house and where they were seated upon their horses, Charis’ eyes opened wide as she took in the entrance.  “Never mind what I was saying earlier about the condition of the house.”  Semeion and Rhema both laughed at the comment.

A voice rang down the hallway as Ischarus stepped into the house.  “Ischarus!  Come in, come in!”

Ischarus looked down the hallway but saw nobody speaking.  Suddenly he heard footsteps descending the marble stairs at the end of the hallway.  In a mater of seconds Ischarus saw Brandt running in his direction.  “Master Brandt, good to see you!”

Brandt replied in return, “Ischarus, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon!  I assume that your trip was successful?  And are your friends safe as well?”

Ischarus nodded in the affirmative.  “All is well.  Although it seems that I am unfortunately the bearer of regrettable news for your dragon father.”

Brandt smiled hopefully.  “Ah, you must be referring the search for the eggs.”

Ischarus nodded once more.  “Yes.  We were unable to recover any eggs.  Apparently the red wyrm did not keep any.”

Brandt smiled even more broadly as if he shared in a joke to which Ischarus did not understand the punch-line.  “Or perhaps the last female wyrm with whom he mated did not allow him to retain any of the eggs.”

Ischarus couldn’t help but smile.  He hadn’t thought of that possibility.  “Ah, perhaps it was that way instead.  And if so, that was one smart red wyrm.  Her eggs will be more likely to grow up with her than if they were with the red that was slain!  Either way, we were rather unfortunate and unable to recover the eggs as had been requested.

Brandt smiled again as though he knew something Ischarus had missed.  Ischarus couldn’t help but notice the look.  “Is there something I’m missing, Brandt?”

Brandt smiled again and invited Ischarus to sit in one of the side rooms.  Once they were seated Brant looked at Ischarus with quite a serious look upon his face.  “Have you ever asked me who the dragon was that desired the eggs?”

Ischarus paused for a moment and rubbed the stubble growing upon his chin.  “I don’t believe so.  I honestly didn’t think it was a detail that concerned me.  I knew you to be respected by the good dragons and if the Assembly of Virtuous Dragons trusts you then who am I to judge?  Why do you ask?”

Brandt smiled.  “The dragon who made the request of me was the same Llywessiar that you now know of.  You did not bring him dragon eggs, of course.  But you did bring him something equally valuable in a different kind of way.  You brought him draconic half-breeds.”

Ischarus’ face wrinkled as he tried to understand exactly what was being said to him.  “But, how does a dragon bred Provenience compare with full blooded dragon eggs?”

Brandt looked to the floor and confessed the reality of the situation to Ischarus.  “In truth, it doesn’t.  They are both quantities that are beyond expense.  Llywessiar heard of your journey through my comments to him and he knew of your adventures through Ausaphaborishan’s involvement in the Assembly of Virtuous Dragons.  He simply wanted to make sure that the eggs were treasured and not destroyed.  Had there been eggs which were then recovered, the dragons could have been reared by Llywessiar and perhaps redeemed from their evil nature.  In part, your saving the red wyrm’s Provenience fulfilled the same spirit of Llywessiar’s request.  What is it the say?  You lived up to the spirit, but not the letter of the request?”

Ischarus smiled, knowing that this was proof that he had much to learn about dragons and their relationships to one another and the world.  It was also proof that he and his party were on the right track with their code of respect for life and a refusal to kill unless no other option presented itself.  He confessed from his own soul, “Even as a child of the dragons and being raised in their culture I have much to learn.”

Brandt smiled knowingly.  “As do I, Ischarus.  As do I.  But that does not change the fact that you fulfilled your duty to the dragon’s request.  As part of your payment, I have been authorized to help you in any way possible.  So what is the true reason that you sought me out?”

Ischarus pulled out the weapons and leather armor that had been removed from the goblin tribe in Quehalost.  “There was a figure we met on our journey.  We couldn’t have pulled off what we did so easily without his assistance.  He was a soul trapped in this world, unable to move on.  He was like us, a traveler into Quehalost to interact with the denizens of the land.  He believes that he was tied to that land because his mission was incomplete.  Although he had been slain, his family does not yet know of his demise.  He requested the return of the weapons to his family in an attempt to be released from the land.  The problem is that I don’t know where to find them.”

Brandt grasped the hilt of the largest weapon.  “Well, let me see if I can figure this out.  I’ll need a few minutes to look up the appropriate spell and then commit it to my memory.  Then I will be ready.  Go bring your friends into my manor while I study.”

Ischarus obeyed, inviting the remaining three into the manor.  The horses were tied outside and the party entered Brandt’s formal sitting room.  Through a window Charis was able to keep watch over the horses.  After some time, Brandt returned with the weapon and a smile upon his face.  He placed the weapon on the center table and knelt before it.  He lifted his hand over the weapon palm side down.  “Hara-Canal-Vass-Praos.” 

The weapon began to glow subtly for several minutes, increasing in intensity as time passed.  Once the glow had brightened completely, Brandt extended his second hand palm side down over the weapon.  The glow slowly leached from the metal onto his hand and then up his arms and onto his face.  Once the glow had completely migrated from the weapon to his face he let his tired arms fall to his sides and looked up to the party.  “The place you want is in Tongra.  The parents live on a small family farm just to the west of Oak Grove in the region of Bacrothen.  I do not know their names, but I have seen the place vividly.  The farmhouse is surrounded with a three foot red brick fence.  The house itself is made from naturally cut logs, perhaps the very logs that were cut to clear the land.  There is an outbuilding in the back and to the left of the house.  I can send you there with my teleportation magic if you desire.”

Ischarus stood, “We do desire, and the sooner the better actually.  We have to accomplish this task for the sake of our spirit friend stuck in Quehalost.”

Semeion rose to his feet.  “No, sir.  You need to accomplish this task.”  Semeion turned to Brandt and continued his explanation.  “If its all the same, I’d just as soon you send me back to Quehalost and to the tunnel entrance.  The ghostly figure is there protecting our escape.  I want to see him off if he is still there.  And I want to say thanks.”

Charis stood and joined Semeion.  “Thanks?  For helping us?”

Semeion smiled.  “For helping all of us.  He protected us in the tunnels.  He kept me from unknowingly falling into the red wyrm’s trap.  We spoke for a while in the forest when I was badly injured.  He was there to encourage me on my journey.  I owe him that much to be there to encourage him on his next journey.”

Charis clenched Semeion’s hand with her own.  “Then I shall be with you, too.”

Semeion nodded in response to Charis’ suggestion.  Rhema rose and stood beside Ischarus. Brandt looked at the party with a sorrowful look upon his face and nodded slowly.

He spoke softly in reply to the needs of the party.  “The task that you are going to undertake is not an easy one. Physically, it will not challenge you.  Spiritually, this task runs deeper than most.  I can help you.  Wait here until I return.”

Brandt left the room for several minutes.  Upon his return he brought forth four rings made of what looked to be pure silver.  “These rings have been attuned to this house.  To activate them, the rings must be worn and twisted around the finger one complete revolution.  There is a problem, however.  I can easily send Ischarus and Rhema to Oak Grove because I have seen the place.  I cannot guarantee that Semeion and Charis will arrive where they need to be simply because I don’t know where you both are going.”

Semeion smiled.  “Don’t worry, Brandt.  Of course I remember exactly what the tunnel looked like and where it is.  I’ve almost died every time I enter it from the Quehalost side!  You don’t forget a place like that too easily.  I can direct our rings to get us there.  Do they work in conjunction with one another?”

Brandt smiled, “They do if you are holding hands.  Then they will work as one.  Whoever holds their ring higher will become the dominant ring and provide the teleport.”

Brandt guided Ischarus and Rhema in the use of the rings, showing them how to activate them to return to his sitting room.  Semeion watched Brandt and learned quickly.  In a matter of seconds Ischarus and Charis were standing before the farmhouse in Oak grove.  Another instant later and Semeion and Charis appeared between the forest and the tunnel entrance in Quehalost.

Semeion spoke softly.  “Hello?”

Slowly the light gray figure poked his head out of a nearby tree.  “Semeion?  Charis?  How did you get here?”

Semeion held out his hands.  “We’ve got little time to explain, so you’ll need to trust me.  Ischarus and Rhema are approaching your home as we speak.  With any luck, you should be going home soon.  Your leather and weapons will be returned and your parents will know.”

The ghostly figure looked on with a grateful expression.  “Thank you, Semeion.  Thank you, Charis.  Tell Ischarus and Rhema that I am grateful.”

Across the mountains and nearly completely across Tongra, Ischarus knocked solidly upon the face of the door.  A middle aged man opened the door slightly.  He saw the leather armor and recognized it immediately.  He let out a gasp as the door slid open further.  “Is that ...?”

Ischarus nodded solemnly.  “Sir, may we come in?  We have a long tale to tell you and your wife.  I’d rather do that inside and sitting down if I may.”

The man opened the door and invited Ischarus and Rhema inside.  He called his wife and the four of them sat around their table.  Ischarus handed the man the leather and the weapons and began to recount the tale.

Across the land at the edge of the mountains, Charis looked with compassion upon the light-gray figure.  “We will tell them.  We couldn’t have done it without you.  We’re proud of you.”

Semeion felt a single tear roll down his left cheek.  It was followed by a tear down his right cheek.  There was no need to hold back any more.  “Quehalost will never be the same.  Tales will be told of your sacrifices.  Sacrifices you made in life and this hereafter.  I will not forget.”

As Semeion spoke, the ghostly image reached out to Semeion.  His image began to waver, and he vanished.  A warm breeze filled the area for a second and then it was gone.  Semeion embraced Charis with a hug.  They twisted their rings and soon they were gone as well.  The tunnel into Quehalost was now empty. The immediate land into which it spilled was now without a malevolent ruler.  The people who once lived in this small section of Quehalost had found a new dragon father and this one was noble.  In the distance a bird began to sing.  It was answered by another.  Soon the forest was alive with the calls and songs of little birds.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
EPILOGUE:​
Four days later, a casually dressed and road weary party of four rode into Fingerdale on horseback. The hoods of their cloaks were pulled up tight, although when they crossed under the city gates they each reached up and removed their hoods. This sudden movement allowed the light of day to cascade upon their faces. Each one of them sighed as they crossed under the familiar gate.

Semeion laughed and spoke first. “Remember the last time we were here? Charis was sick, and you two tried to convince me that she was carrying half-dragon children like Tierna!”

Ischarus smiled as he searched the surroundings. Rhema decided to bite on Semeion’s inquiry. “I honestly don’t think that I’ve ever seen you quite so angry, either.”

Charis laughed. “I wish I wouldn’t have passed out so I could have witnessed that!” She turned in her saddle toward Semeion and added, “Well, I’ve no fear of that diagnosis until something drastically changes to my fourth finger on my left hand!”

The foursome laughed at the insinuation. It was clear by their actions that they were searching the town of Fingerdale with a purpose. They rode through the streets at a leisurely pace for about fifteen minutes before Rhema exclaimed in joy. “There it is!”

Ischarus followed the point of her finger to an old building that looked as though it had seen better days. “Really? I’d have expected him to live in a better place than that!”

Rhema smiled. “Well, apparently the outside of his house is really quite nice, he just disguises it with a spell all the time to make it look worse than it is. He says it keeps out nosey people who come looking for him.”

Semeion smiled. “Well, I’ll have to remember that when I become famous.”

Charis replied to the mage’s assertion with a smile upon her face. “I don’t expect to live in some kind of dump!”

Ischarus dismounted and slipped Elistra’s reigns into Rhema’s hand for her hold. He walked up the steps, careful not to step on what appeared to be loose boards. He safely arrived at the top of the stairs and used the brass knocker to solidly bang upon the door. Only seconds later the door opened all by itself. Thinking himself brave, Ischarus stepped two paces into the house and then stopped.

When the doors opened, it exposed an elaborate wooden hallway. A gold chair rail extended the length of the hallway on both sides. Along the hallway were arches leading into side rooms. The arches were constructed of a rare red and gray marble. The plaster along the ceiling was sculpted, depicting a scene of several dragons above everyone’s head as they entered the house.

From outside the house and where they were seated upon their horses, Charis’ eyes opened wide as she took in the entrance. “Never mind what I was saying earlier about the condition of the house.” Semeion and Rhema both laughed at the comment.

A voice rang down the hallway as Ischarus stepped into the house. “Ischarus! Come in, come in!”

Ischarus looked down the hallway but saw nobody speaking. Suddenly he heard footsteps descending the marble stairs at the end of the hallway. In a mater of seconds Ischarus saw Brandt running in his direction. “Master Brandt, good to see you!”

Brandt replied in return, “Ischarus, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon! I assume that your trip was successful? And are your friends safe as well?”

Ischarus nodded in the affirmative. “All is well. Although it seems that I am unfortunately the bearer of regrettable news for your dragon father.”

Brandt smiled hopefully. “Ah, you must be referring the search for the eggs.”

Ischarus nodded once more. “Yes. We were unable to recover any eggs. Apparently the red wyrm did not keep any.”

Brandt smiled even more broadly as if he shared in a joke to which Ischarus did not understand the punch-line. “Or perhaps the last female wyrm with whom he mated did not allow him to retain any of the eggs.”

Ischarus couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t thought of that possibility. “Ah, perhaps it was that way instead. And if so, that was one smart red wyrm. Her eggs will be more likely to grow up with her than if they were with the red that was slain! Either way, we were rather unfortunate and unable to recover the eggs as had been requested.

Brandt smiled again as though he knew something Ischarus had missed. Ischarus couldn’t help but notice the look. “Is there something I’m missing, Brandt?”

Brandt smiled again and invited Ischarus to sit in one of the side rooms. Once they were seated Brant looked at Ischarus with quite a serious look upon his face. “Have you ever asked me who the dragon was that desired the eggs?”

Ischarus paused for a moment and rubbed the stubble growing upon his chin. “I don’t believe so. I honestly didn’t think it was a detail that concerned me. I knew you to be respected by the good dragons and if the Assembly of Virtuous Dragons trusts you then who am I to judge? Why do you ask?”

Brandt smiled. “The dragon who made the request of me was the same Llywessiar that you now know of. You did not bring him dragon eggs, of course. But you did bring him something equally valuable in a different kind of way. You brought him draconic half-breeds.”

Ischarus’ face wrinkled as he tried to understand exactly what was being said to him. “But, how does a dragon bred Provenience compare with full blooded dragon eggs?”

Brandt looked to the floor and confessed the reality of the situation to Ischarus. “In truth, it doesn’t. They are both quantities that are beyond expense. Llywessiar heard of your journey through my comments to him and he knew of your adventures through Ausaphaborishan’s involvement in the Assembly of Virtuous Dragons. He simply wanted to make sure that the eggs were treasured and not destroyed. Had there been eggs which were then recovered, the dragons could have been reared by Llywessiar and perhaps redeemed from their evil nature. In part, your saving the red wyrm’s Provenience fulfilled the same spirit of Llywessiar’s request. What is it the say? You lived up to the spirit, but not the letter of the request?”

Ischarus smiled, knowing that this was proof that he had much to learn about dragons and their relationships to one another and the world. It was also proof that he and his party were on the right track with their code of respect for life and a refusal to kill unless no other option presented itself. He confessed from his own soul, “Even as a child of the dragons and being raised in their culture I have much to learn.”

Brandt smiled knowingly. “As do I, Ischarus. As do I. But that does not change the fact that you fulfilled your duty to the dragon’s request. As part of your payment, I have been authorized to help you in any way possible. So what is the true reason that you sought me out?”

Ischarus pulled out the weapons and leather armor that had been removed from the goblin tribe in Quehalost. “There was a figure we met on our journey. We couldn’t have pulled off what we did so easily without his assistance. He was a soul trapped in this world, unable to move on. He was like us, a traveler into Quehalost to interact with the denizens of the land. He believes that he was tied to that land because his mission was incomplete. Although he had been slain, his family does not yet know of his demise. He requested the return of the weapons to his family in an attempt to be released from the land. The problem is that I don’t know where to find them.”

Brandt grasped the hilt of the largest weapon. “Well, let me see if I can figure this out. I’ll need a few minutes to look up the appropriate spell and then commit it to my memory. Then I will be ready. Go bring your friends into my manor while I study.”

Ischarus obeyed, inviting the remaining three into the manor. The horses were tied outside and the party entered Brandt’s formal sitting room. Through a window Charis was able to keep watch over the horses. After some time, Brandt returned with the weapon and a smile upon his face. He placed the weapon on the center table and knelt before it. He lifted his hand over the weapon palm side down. “Hara-Canal-Vass-Praos.” 

The weapon began to glow subtly for several minutes, increasing in intensity as time passed. Once the glow had brightened completely, Brandt extended his second hand palm side down over the weapon. The glow slowly leached from the metal onto his hand and then up his arms and onto his face. Once the glow had completely migrated from the weapon to his face he let his tired arms fall to his sides and looked up to the party. “The place you want is in Tongra. The parents live on a small family farm just to the west of Oak Grove in the region of Bacrothen. I do not know their names, but I have seen the place vividly. The farmhouse is surrounded with a three foot red brick fence. The house itself is made from naturally cut logs, perhaps the very logs that were cut to clear the land. There is an outbuilding in the back and to the left of the house. I can send you there with my teleportation magic if you desire.”

Ischarus stood, “We do desire, and the sooner the better actually. We have to accomplish this task for the sake of our spirit friend stuck in Quehalost.”

Semeion rose to his feet. “No, sir. You need to accomplish this task.” Semeion turned to Brandt and continued his explanation. “If its all the same, I’d just as soon you send me back to Quehalost and to the tunnel entrance. The ghostly figure is there protecting our escape. I want to see him off if he is still there. And I want to say thanks.”

Charis stood and joined Semeion. “Thanks? For helping us?”

Semeion smiled. “For helping all of us. He protected us in the tunnels. He kept me from unknowingly falling into the red wyrm’s trap. We spoke for a while in the forest when I was badly injured. He was there to encourage me on my journey. I owe him that much to be there to encourage him on his next journey.”

Charis clenched Semeion’s hand with her own. “Then I shall be with you, too.”

Semeion nodded in response to Charis’ suggestion. Rhema rose and stood beside Ischarus. Brandt looked at the party with a sorrowful look upon his face and nodded slowly.

He spoke softly in reply to the needs of the party. “The task that you are going to undertake is not an easy one. Physically, it will not challenge you. Spiritually, this task runs deeper than most. I can help you. Wait here until I return.”

Brandt left the room for several minutes. Upon his return he brought forth four rings made of what looked to be pure silver. “These rings have been attuned to this house. To activate them, the rings must be worn and twisted around the finger one complete revolution. There is a problem, however. I can easily send Ischarus and Rhema to Oak Grove because I have seen the place. I cannot guarantee that Semeion and Charis will arrive where they need to be simply because I don’t know where you both are going.”

Semeion smiled. “Don’t worry, Brandt. Of course I remember exactly what the tunnel looked like and where it is. I’ve almost died every time I enter it from the Quehalost side! You don’t forget a place like that too easily. I can direct our rings to get us there. Do they work in conjunction with one another?”

Brandt smiled, “They do if you are holding hands. Then they will work as one. Whoever holds their ring higher will become the dominant ring and provide the teleport.”

Brandt guided Ischarus and Rhema in the use of the rings, showing them how to activate them to return to his sitting room. Semeion watched Brandt and learned quickly. In a matter of seconds Ischarus and Charis were standing before the farmhouse in Oak grove. Another instant later and Semeion and Charis appeared between the forest and the tunnel entrance in Quehalost.

Semeion spoke softly. “Hello?”

Slowly the light gray figure poked his head out of a nearby tree. “Semeion? Charis? How did you get here?”

Semeion held out his hands. “We’ve got little time to explain, so you’ll need to trust me. Ischarus and Rhema are approaching your home as we speak. With any luck, you should be going home soon. Your leather and weapons will be returned and your parents will know.”

The ghostly figure looked on with a grateful expression. “Thank you, Semeion. Thank you, Charis. Tell Ischarus and Rhema that I am grateful.”

Across the mountains and nearly completely across Tongra, Ischarus knocked solidly upon the face of the door. A middle aged man opened the door slightly. He saw the leather armor and recognized it immediately. He let out a gasp as the door slid open further. “Is that ...?”

Ischarus nodded solemnly. “Sir, may we come in? We have a long tale to tell you and your wife. I’d rather do that inside and sitting down if I may.”

The man opened the door and invited Ischarus and Rhema inside. He called his wife and the four of them sat around their table. Ischarus handed the man the leather and the weapons and began to recount the tale.

Across the land at the edge of the mountains, Charis looked with compassion upon the light-gray figure. “We will tell them. We couldn’t have done it without you. We’re proud of you.”

Semeion felt a single tear roll down his left cheek. It was followed by a tear down his right cheek. There was no need to hold back any more. “Quehalost will never be the same. Tales will be told of your sacrifices. Sacrifices you made in life and this hereafter. I will not forget.”

As Semeion spoke, the ghostly image reached out to Semeion. His image began to waver, and he vanished. A warm breeze filled the area for a second and then it was gone. Semeion embraced Charis with a hug. They twisted their rings and soon they were gone as well. The tunnel into Quehalost was now empty. The immediate land into which it spilled was now without a malevolent ruler. The people who once lived in this small section of Quehalost had found a new dragon father and this one was noble. In the distance a bird began to sing. It was answered by another. Soon the forest was alive with the calls and songs of little birds.
[/Sblock]


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Dec 9, 2006)

*Not One Of The Updates!*

Well, as you can see, this Story Hour has drawn to a completion.  I hope you enjoyed the read.   

This doesn't mean it is the end of the adventures of Rhema, Charis, Ischarus, and Semeion.  It does mean that they have reached a natural stopping point in the storyline.  Obviously there are a few cliffhangers intentionally left for readers to answer for themselves.  Such as:

What happens to Tierna's children?

Do the red Drakontai become fully integrated into the gold Drakontai?

What happens to the ghostly figure's parents?

What of the goblin tribe left in Quehalost ... or the druid for that matter?

Perhaps more to the point, what of the land that is now left vacant?

Ahhh.... it feels good to intentionally leave so many questions and loose ends for the readers to enjoy for themselves!  Any I forgot?  [I'm sure there are, so tell me!  ]

I will be editing and revising the story over time ... simple things like going back and correcting the story, adding foreshadowing here and there, etc.  You can follow the editing tags at the bottom of each post to see what has been done and where the editing is happening if that kind of thing interests you.  


But, onto more serious things.  I have a few questions for any readers who would like to respond.

First, were the Drakontai believable as a concept race?  Furthermore, were you drawn into their beliefs about life (both when they were fervent in the protection of their beliefs and then when they were in the process of switching over)?

Second, I am planning on doing another Story Hour since the number of reads indicates that this was reasonably popular (by my standards at least).  Would you like to hear more about these four adventurers or would you rather read more about some other adventurers?  [If other, another of my homebrew races or normal fantasy standard races?]

I suppose those are the two pressing questions.  Overall comments accepted, by all means!

Oh, and I should say.  If I do start another Story Hour with these four adventurers, you can believe I am going to post the link at the beginning and current end (wherever that is) of this thread.

Once again, thanks for reading!


----------



## Mahtave (Dec 12, 2006)

Nonlethal,

I enjoyed this story - consider this my vote to continue the adventurers of these four heroes.  

I have found that I check every day to see if there is something new happening on this SH.  Can't wait to see what more you write up.


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Dec 20, 2006)

*REPLY TO READER ... not an update.*

Mahtave,

Thanks for your support!

I have been revising and slightly editing the beginning posts.  I've found I made some early mistakes that editing can solve and I want to polish those before beginning another Story Hour.  I've also been adding a bit of depth where I've felt it needed it.  I suppose that is why most of the authors talk about finishing a work and then going over it a few times.  The only true way to add good foreshadowing is to add it after the story is written.  Then you know exactly what is going ot happen, so you can go back and insert it.  Of course, I knew the general storyline when I started.  I did not know much of the specifics until I actually put fingers to keyboard.  Thus, going back and inserting foreshadowing or even character background where necessary has taken up a good portion of my time.

I had been hoping to finish my editing by Christmas ... but I don't know if that is realistic or not.  Probably not.  But that'll set me on a date to continue these adventures sometime in early January. No promises, of course.   But there will be more to come.  I've decided that much!

Now I just have to figure out how much I want to bring back Xando, Druff, and ... _(foreshadowing here)_ ... Grick.  His end was left loose ...


----------



## Nonlethal Force (Jan 10, 2007)

*An Update ... Sort Of ...*

Alright ... Editing of the Story Hour completed!  It took a few days longer than I had hoped, but the product is good (at least I think) in the end.

I have begun the sequel to this story hour.  It is called Into the Moral Darkness

Happy reading, and I hope all of you that were reading this story hour find as much enjoyment out of the next!


----------

