OOC- but you are.

 

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Jashen came down from the tower of Caer Witrin having just met with his trainer. The skills he was learning were progressing nicely, but he had enough of hunting for today.


In the traveler's room, he met Achou. They settled into a table, a tankard of ale in front of him, frothy from the tap and a flask in the Cabalist's hand. They sipped at their drinks and sat in silence for a few moments.


"So, what do you make of this Arcalan woman? Is she as bad as she builds herself to be, or do you think I overreact to her, because she threatens Cris?" Jashen asked when half his tankard was gone.


Despite being 'employer' for this hunt, Achou was also a good friend and a trusted advisor.

 

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Sipping on his whiskey, Achou was lost in thought of his own. Not that any of his traveling companions seemed to care, He had his hired sword Jashen always comparing him self to some Crispian, and a cleric the happened a pond them with Crispian always on his mind. And lately he has acquired a Sorcerer name Phalos and another cabalist named Arcalan, one would thing these two mages were an old married couple from the way the bicker back and forth. And this Arcalan wench has mouth on here to send a troll back to his ‘mama.


On top of all of this, he came to find out he is no longer welcome at the Adrobod’s Retreat. It appears Lord Adrobod has taken a disliking to the guild of shadows for some reason and will not but up with hem in his keep. But Witern has been a welcoming home for now, until I can get back to my home land of Lyonesse. Back at the Lord’s Arse

Achou had head that Lyonesse had fallen under Morgana’s evil ways. So he had decided to head home and “cleanse” that Morgana has done to the once beautiful.


Just as he was starting to remember how nice his home once was, Jashen came down from one of the Guild trainers at Witern, pick up the tankard of ale that was placed down for him and ask

“"So, what do you make of this Arcalan woman? Is she as bad as she builds herself to be, or do you think I overreact to her, because she threatens Cris?"

“Simple Jashen, she is playing with you, her breed all seems to think they are better than any one, and she lacks the ability to have fun!” Achou said almost gleefully “ think of the Hunter we were battling with the other night, she was More than willing to send her Golem in to combat and say FAR away from then casting her spells, but the first hit or even the threat of a hit, she takes off running around”


“aye, sire, I guess you may be right on this one” Jashen mumbled ordering another Ale.


“Like I said, she just thinks she is all might, remember Phalos, same back grounds, but he is much more civil, and down to earth” Achou said getting off the stool. Well, Merc, I think it is time for some rest, we still need to get back to Cornwall, and await Tobyas’s return.


With that Achou headed out side and called for Emily,

“Jashen, before we camp the night here, care to see Emily play, just a bit”

They strolled out into the evening light of Cornwall, walking down the road, dusty from the lack of rain. Achou, with a gesture, sent Emily, his emerald simulacrum, off at a Cornwall hunter who had the poor luck to be close to the road.


"She worries me, with her secret meetings," Jashen said as he calmly knocked an arrow to his short bow and sped it off at the hunter. Not that Emily needed much help pummeling the poor man.


Achou shrug. "Times will tell."


They continued on and reached the station at Cornwall, awaiting the return of Tobyas.

 

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Smiling happily to herself, Azaeli strode gracefully past the Guardian’s guild toward the market square and the Dye shop. After days of hunting in Keltoi, her pack was heavy with Vindicator plate mail, and she could finally wear it, having reached her twentieth season.


“Red, ugh.” she mumbled to herself as she ducked in to the shop. In her excitement, she almost collided with a tall avalonian. Golden-brown hair tumbled against her freshly-dyed reddish tunic, and she set an icey glare on Azi that made her shiver.


“My apologies, lady cabalist,”Azi said quickly. The cabalist slowly ran her eyes along Azi’s face.


"It is well.. do I not know you from somewhere?" She narrowed her eyes.


"Perhaps we have hunted together" Azi answered, noting that she wore the League’s emblem.


"By thy Season I think not" she sneered.


"Well then, I have hunted with Jashen and Tobyas of the League. Perhaps they spoke of me and you remember my name." Azi tried to still herself, there was something about this woman that made her very uncomfortable.


"I have hunted with them much, but no I recall thy face.."


"Well, my father is the smith here...perhaps you visited his shop with your hunting companions?"


The cabalist’s face darkened slightly. "ou have been in the company of young Lord Crispian I think.." Azi hid her surprise well, so she had been, but not for weeks, and what business of hers was it?


"es, Crispian is a friend, though I have not seen him for some time"


"es I recall you on his arm once" Arcalan pointed a slender finger at her, waving it slightly in thought. "Tis plainer now you are out of armor." Azi had removed her old sleeves and vest as they spoke, to sell to the merchant. The woman’s voice was grating, though unremarkable. Azi felt something familiar about it, something dark and unpleasant. She tried desperately to pinpoint it, this cabalist was trouble, she could tell straight away. And why all of the interest with Crispian, she wondered.


"Well,” Azi said cheerily, “I apologize, but I know not your face. Are you new to the League?"


"Aye, kind Crispian was good enough to give me shelter and such delights as the League offers..." She laughed to herself, a wry grin twisting at the corner of her mouth. "es indeed... and you have not become part of it's structure? This Guild of Peers that accepts even a Cabalist?"


"I shall be joining the League soon enough. It is such a pleasant group,” she caught herself from saying I miss them, “I had been waiting to see my lord Crispian...but that is a long tale that I wish not to speak of." The cabalist raised her eyebrows with interest.


"Nay speak and I'll relay your words to him my dear child." She said gently. Still, Azi felt a chill. This woman had no good heart, how had she gotten entry to the League?


"I wish to tell him myself, but I thank you."


"As you wish," she waved her hand dismissively.


"Has he been seen as of late?"


"He has, I believe some Holy men are to hold a ceremony in Hadrian's Wall this eve,” she watched Azi closely, "He has gone to attend it."


"Is that so? I had not heard of such a ceremony, though I have been training so hard lately it is a wonder I still know how to make my way along the city streets." She chuckled, and felt a cold stone in the pit of her stomach as the cabalist’s eyes narrowed yet again.


"ou look not unlike young Tobyas, a Cleric of the League... and close personal friend of Crispian's.” She watched Azi closely, as if to guage a reaction from her.


"Well it does not suprise me to hear you say that, we are both of the Church, so we carry a holy aura with us I am certain." Azi shivered again, the cold warning was growing stronger, the woman radiated foulness. Why did Crispian or the League officers not see this in her? "Tobyas is a pleasant fellow."


"Aye, pure and Holy indeed. Just exactly the type for a life of devotion..” she hesitated, her eyes darkening, “to God.” She flicked her eyes back to Azi’s face quickly, noting the girl's shiver. “Ah I have made you stand and talk too long a while in discomfort.” She smiled warmly. “Be about your ways young.. what did you say your name was?"


"Azaeli, or Azi if it pleases you."


"Azi... hmm.." A look of recognition crossed her face, "Well, I hope I'll see more of you before long.."


"Please do me a favor if you will, and speak not of me yet to the League, until I can find Crispian and explain." Azi knew she could not trust this woman to keep any promise, but it had been too late to avoid her when they had collided in the litle shop, and so she had to ask at least.


"I'll give Crispian your regards though shall I?" she smiled wickedly. Azi squeezed her eyes tightly closed and sighed. Her head was beginning to ache from the cold warnings.


"I must take my leave," she said, desperate to be away from the woman.


"Be well Azi," the woman smiled, "I would not hold you any longer..."


"And you, lady... " Azaeli raised an eyebrow in question.


"Arcalan."


"Arcalan." Azi repeated, shivering again and pulling her cloak around herself.


"I'm sure we'll know each other better in time," she stepped aside to let Azi pass, and together they walked out into the street.


"I am certain of it," Azi answered.


"Much better," she murmured, the evil aura emanating further.


"God bless you and keep you in his Goodness," Azi said kindly, if not rather loudly, crossing herself and gesturing a blessing at the woman.


"Mmm," Arcalan lowered her eyes, and for the first time looked uncomfortable. "And you Azi.. be safe." She made a motion, and a shield fell around her.


"Farewell until next we meet." Azaeli said, taking a step back. She set her eyes on Arcalan with a meaningful gaze. She was not about to turn her back on the cabalist and walk away. Arcalon nodded curtly in resignation.


"Until that time then,"Arcalan waved a graceful hand and rushed toward the gate.


Azi made haste to the Church to see Lady Triss for training, and to pray for guidance with this Arcalan. The answer came clear, she must find Crispian and warn him, but she knew not where he was. Jashen had been in Cornwall hunting,she knew. She resolved to go there quickly to find out more about the cabalist, and to warn Jashen.


Hastily, she purchased a fare to Caer Ulfwych and rode hard, dismounting as close to the keep as she could to fetch another horse to Cornwall. A chill of warning flushed through her again. She was surprised, and yet not so surpised, to see Arcalan standing there before the stablehand. The two curtseyed cordially to one another.


“We meet again so soon, lady,” Azi pulled off her barrel helm and shook out her golden hair.


"And your armor looks splendid."


"I thank you."


"Are you making your way to Cornwall?" Arcalan asked, as if she knew the answer already.


"es..that I was," Azi answered cautiously, "are you?"


"I am indeed.” Her eyes lighted with evil delight, “Why then I shall accompany you on the ride!"


"I shall be happy to ride with you, milady," Azi replied, hiding her displeasure at the prospect of spending any more time with the woman than was absolutely necessary.


"What a pleasure to speak with you further," Arcalan said. She, too was pretending. The tension was obvious between the two as the horses were brought out.


"Indeed." Azi answered. "Well..shall we ride then?"


"After you..." Arcalan bowed mockingly.


Azi mounted the horse gracefully and nudged it hard, desperate to get as much distance between herself and the cabalist as possible. Her body tingled with the warning of evil as the horses’ hooves pounded through the muddy marsh.


"ou ride very fast!" Arcalan shouted to her. Azi frowned and nudged the horse again for speed.


"Aye, all the sooner to hunt!" They arrived in Cornwall and she lowered herself from the horse and landed lightly in front of the cabalist.


"ou are indeed an accomplished rider," Arcalan smiled.


"My thanks, lady," Azi answered, growing weary of the woman’s false attempts at kindness. "Well, here we are then, and where does your hunt take you this night?"


"I seek on young man in Jashen's company.. and you?" Arcalan answered. Azi fought back a frown.


"I was going to seek Jashen, myself." She managed a smile. "So our travels together continue, I suppose."


"How odd." Arcalan said pensively, "I think there's the hand of.. Fate in this."


"es, the Lord works in strange ways." Azi said. Arcalan shifted uncomfortably.


"es, well.. lead on Paladin, lead on." She bowed with more flourish than was necessary. "ou know your way out here then? Do you hunt in Cornwall oft?"


"I know my way."


"Does the Lord guide you?" she chided. Azi made a wide circle around a moor boogey and pulled her cloak tight around her, ignoring the woman.


"There is a chill in the air tonight." Azi said.


"ou do shiver." Arcalan sounded almost amused by the observation.


"es.."


"Perhap you are not well," she goaded.


"I assure you I am well. Quite well."


"That's good to hear.. I’d hate for you to be in any discomfort." Azi felt rather than saw the sneer, and stopped short in the middle of the field to face the woman.


"What a strange thing to say,” she said critically. "Why would you think that I was?" Arcalan waved her hand dismissively. Or so Azi thought.


Before she could react, a rooter collided violently with her from behind, knocking Azi hard to the ground. Its deep purple eyes glared visciously at her as it raked a hoof across her chest. Teeth clamped into her arm, shredding it as another hoof tore at her face. Arcalan stood idle, watching as darkness overcame Azi. And as Azi stood over her own body, Arcalan spoke into the air.


"And yet the creature left me unharmed. I'd make peace with their masters if I were you Azi." She said coldly.


Azi woke at the bindstone and reeled with the sickness that always overcame her after death. Hastily, without even seeing a healer, she rushed to the stable and rode hard to Cornwall. That foul woman. Had it been done on purpose, had she wished to rid herself of Azi for the time? She pushed the thought away and rode faster, arriving at Cornwall in record time. Arcalan was nowhere to be seen, but Azi was relieved to Jashen milling with a group of the League just down the road from the Catacombs. He bowed low to her as she neared, and Azi curtseyed.


"Jashen, greetings!" She pulled off her helm and delighted in Jashen's shocked expression.


"Hail Dear Azi!" he smiled with delight. "How have you been?"


"I am quite well, thank you." Azi gestured to her new armor with pride. Jashen eyed her appreciatively.


"Cris is going to freak ye know," he grinned.


"Is he?" She smiled, blushing deeply.


"In armor like that?” Jashen smiled broadly. “Aye, he will." Azi’s expression darkened, she lowered her voice considerably as the others chatted amongst themselves.


"Would that I could speak with him, know you where he is?" she said.


"Aye, he will want to speak with you as soon as possible, dearest. But he is away in Hadrian’s Wall, on the frontier. Tis far too dangerous a place to travel for us." Azi nodded.


"I need to speak with you, as well, friend. As soon as possible, without all of these ears about." She said to Jashen. He nodded, and said for all to hear,


“Would ye care to join us in the hunt Azaeli?"


"I would love nothing more, Jashen!" She answered, glad of a way to clear her mind.


"Join us then!" He turned to the rest of them. "Shall we to the hunt?"

~~~OOC~~~

The preceding was a result of an impromptu Rp session when Arcalan and I bumped into each other in Camelot, and then again in CU.. Glad I turned on chatlog! Thanks Arc, was tons of fun

OOC- Posting these in sequence of events for me in game....


(Before Azaeli comes to Camelot)


The forge near the round table was as crowded as it usually is when Crispian arrived. He heard an odd name, Perigrin, being said of a highlander.

“You’re name for a Carolingian king?” He asked, mind a swirl in the early stages of a good, healthy drunk. The highlander looked up from his work. “I know nae meaning to me name other than me mom and da gave me it.” The Scot looked a bit uncertain of this new arrival to the forge area.

Crispian nodded as he settled at a workbench. He set a fresh keg of ale beside himself and organized his tools. “Aye, Perigrin the Short he was called. A descendent of Charlemagne himself,” Crispian explained, as he looked over his work area.

The young highlander nodded with a grin. “Mercenary king, I’d be! Well, I’ll take the title if they are offerin’ it!” Others smiths about laughed and grinned at the comment and Crispian raised mug in salute.

His grin turning to a scowl. Perigrin said, "Crispian ye look ta hold yer wepons an armor well enough, but seems yer ale has more hold of you than you of it.” He laughed deprecatingly.

Crispian brandished his tankard boldly for a moment and said, “Nay, the ale ish little fer me to hold!” He smacked his mug on the keg and topped it up.

The mercenary lad laughed. “Ye never spilt a drop? HAR!” he slapped his leg in humor.

Crispian tipped the mug down. “Well, not never,” he grinned. “Horse rides can be jarring!”

Perigrin shook his head and sighed, “ye drunkard dont ye know tis why ye put it in a skin if ye are ta travel with it"

Crispian tipped the tankard to lips again, and when it came down, the brief mirth was gone from his face. “But let me tell ye, laddie, that sometimes the evil o’ the world ish sho bad, ye a drink to push it off.”

His face clouded in thought for a moment. “Skin? Skinsh don’ hold enough laddie for the long huntsh down to the pigmen and treesh!” He pounded the tankard on his bench.

Perigrin shook his head again, “Yer wastin’ good ale on the ground then,” he said quietly.

Crispian gestured widely to a taller armored man at the forge. “Ask Dracone there. He knowsh what issh like.

The tall, seasoned armsman looked over at Crispian. “What?” he said, eyebrows nettled.

Crispian scowled at him. “You’ff been down to the pigmen and treesh!” he said overly loud. There were skill things about the prolonged hunts in sunken Lyonesse Crispian recalled all to clearly.

Dracone tipped his head back with a laugh. “Aye, I have!”

Borgen, working near to Dracone, looked up. “Evil’s shamans are enough to make anyone drink!” he said with a laugh.

Dracone joined him in the humor. “AYE!” he said, louder than before.

Apolexia, who knew Crispian by sight, raised her eyebrows. “I’ve never heard of a ‘good’ shaman,” she said.

Borgen looked at Lexi with a slight grin. “Good at their craft, I meant,” he said.

Crispian set his mug down with a bang. “Shamansh? SHAMANSH?” he carped, voice rising high for a moment, then he turned more quiet. “Our own Sorcerssesh can be twisthed to evil,” he said darkly, draining of more ale.

Dracone laughed again. “That’s why I am an armsman and simple minded.” He picked up a piece of metal and considered it. “They have no interest in my thoughts whatsoever!” He set the metal down and started to order his tools for his next task.

Draining off his mug again, Crispian scowled. “Thatsh what I thunked too.” He muttered darkly. His tools were forgotten as he went over the haunting course of events these past weeks.

Dracone, still moving his gear about, continued on. “The darkiside look to corrupt me, then sees there is nothing there to corrupt.” He finished with a smile. Crispian pondered his words for a moment, beginning to move deeper in thought.

Perigrin, noting how serious everything was getting, slapped his legs again. “Well, good day to ye all!” He smiled. “I get no learnin’ done from the bottom of a mug!” Borgen laughed his own agreement with that sentiment.

Crispian looked up, a grimace on his face. “I wished life was sho sumple all the times, friends, I do in truth. “ His voice was thick and muddled with ale, fingers curled on the mug in his scarred hands.

Apolexia looked up from her work, seeing the pain that the others seemed to be missing. “Life is never easy, m’friend,” she said quietly. Her own experiences had put her through difficulties and she wondered for a moment what could be torturing Crispian so.

Crispian nodded in agreement to here. “Nay, tis not Lexi.” He thought of some things said about and again. “And ye know it can be, I bet.” He tapped out some more ale, offering it about to the others who were hard pressing their crafts at the forge spot. He wiped his eyes dry and took another deep drink of ale.

“Almost all to well, old friend,” Apolexia said quietly. This Crispian was not the same as she recalled from the days before at the forge. Before Valour, and other things…She nodded in solemn agreement with him.

Crispian swept his mug in a wide arc to include all about the forge. “Now, this here Lexi,” he said, swinging the mug toward her, “is one tough lady, I tell yaz.!” He finished his proclamation with a self-congratulating drink.

Apolexia shook her head. “I wish I were, m’friend,” she said quietly, uncomfortable with the attention that Crispian seemed bound to call upon her.

Crispian scowled at her, then broke into a grin, made silly by alcohol. “But yer are. I’ve heard the talk around the tavernsh!”

Apolexia sighed. Tavern tales indeed! “Alas,” she said, shaking her head, “they only know the truths that are told.” She watched Crispian, concern flashing in her eyes for a moment.

Crispian, barely following everything going on about him, in addition to the conversation, nodded exaggeratedly. “That is sho like people, too,” he exclaimed, like a cleric sudden imparting some divinely inspired truth, “speakin’ only half truths!”

He stoood, swaying on his feet a bit. “But ye be safe, lassh, and I am off to Ye Mug to seek a room and shome sleep!” He staggered his way out of the forge area, and with a few gentle turns from guardsmen, reached Ye Mug. Word was sent to Tannir that Crispian was here, and shortly after the young armsman had been settled into a room, his squire arrived.

The daily order of things started then, with Tannir setting aside armor and placing fresh small cloths on his Lord and Liege. Then, the squire settle against the door to sleep until Crispian awoke and it all started again.

 

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Meanwhile, In Cornwall...


Azaeli greeted the hunting group with a polite curtsey, which looked a bit off in full armor. Each man, Iphemiar, Vaseth, and Jashen was greeted with a formality and courtliness not often seen in the hunt. Kalsaak, a sorcerer who had hunted often with Jashen, Achou and Tobyas, arrived just after Azaeli and he too joined them in the hunt.

Azaeli favored them all with a stunning smile. “Well met, friends!” she said, openly happy to be among the League again. “Kalsaak!” she exclaimed as the sorcerer joined them.

Iphemiar swept back his mail coif. “’Ail tae ye, Azaeli! Yer name I’ quite familiar for sae reason. Dinnae why ‘ough,” he said.

“Hail Azi!” Kalsaak greeted her, his face too a wide smile of joyful reunion. Azi favored him with a shy grin.

The casters, Vaseth, Kalsaak, and Cowyn, began to weave their magicks about the group as Tobyas made prayers over each for the upcoming fight. Powerful forces swirled and formed around each as powers of wind, earth, fire and the divine were plied on them all.

Azaeli looked over the group. Some she knew, some she did not. “Iphemiar, your not recognizing my name does not surprise me,” she said with a shy smile before turning to the sorcerer. “How do you do, dear Kalsaak?” she said with her smile still in place. It was then that she noticed the cleric blessings the others still. His chain armor gleamed in the pale and fading daylight. The bar-nasal coif hid much his face, and that was why she perhaps had not recognized him at first. “And Tobyas!” she exclaimed, her voice taking on a very non-paladin tone.

He favored her with a shy grin as he continued saying the sacred words for strength and speed over Mensc. Adaya, companion of Mench, was also blessing people for battle. The quiet murmur of prayer filled the evening silence for a few minutes as the two clerics implored the Almighty.

Cowyn, his spells cast and magic power regaining, smiled at Azaeli. It had been some days since he had seen her last. She looked very good in the plate mail of a Paladin. “Welcome Azaeli!” he said. “Has been a while.”

She favored him with a smile as she pulled Jashen a bit away from the others. “Would that I could speak with Crispian!” she almost hissed in her effort to not be over heard.

“Master Kalsaak, if it is alright,” Jashen said, “Tobyas will follow along and take care of healing me as there is need.”

The sorcerer nodded, “That would be fine by me, Brother Jashen.”

Jashen nodded to Azaeli, lowering his voice to a tone that would not carry. “Aye, he will want to speak with you as soon as possible dearest.” He could not help but grin at Azaeli, former wizard, now paladin, as she stood there in her fine armor.

Azaeli, seizing the moment of the others being distracted, whispered urgently, “I need to speak with you as soon as possible, without all of these ears about.” She looked fertively about at the others, trusted League members all, but some too removed from events that Azi knew all too well.

Cowyn stood. “Ready?” he asked, calmly looking over them all.

Tobyas closed his prayer book, tucking it into a pouch and taking out a smaller tome of healing prayers. “I fear I am all out of blessings now,” he said quietly. The others checked their gear and they group started to move into the Cornwall plain.

Azaeli was looking about, watching the area they moved through. Her senses were sharp for foes from long practice in the field. “STOP!” she called suddenly, spotting the large pig-like beasts called Rooters ahead of them. “Rooters despise me,” she explained. As the group gathered about, Azaeli realized she had been so focused earlier and had not truly greeted everyone. “I have missed you all!” she said a bit abruptly.

Iphemiar smiled at her. “Gree’ins to ye again, lass.”

Kalsaak favored her with a slight bow. “And you were missed as well, M’lady,” he said, barely taking his eyes off the field, for he had learned the bad way about being inattentive.

Jashen targetted on a moor boogey, the local predator to rooters. He knew that through some means the rooters knew those who killed the boogeys and would not attack them. He knocked an arrow to his short bow and fired. The shot went wide, but not wide enough. The Boogey charged.

As the dread beast rushed, Jashen slung the bow and grabbed his Bloody short sword and Inlaid long sword in hand. Iphemiar and Mensc also readied themselves for combat.

The moor boogey was upon them. The casters, staying a safe distance behind, began to work magicks on the beast the sort of which Jashen knew not. He swung his sword, missing the boogey completely and the beast bit at him, twice striking his leg. Tobyas was already murmuring prayers of healing from behind them. Jashen prepared to use his skill for Twin Spikes, a special attack with two weapons. He struck true and the beast howled. Iphemiar and Mensc both also struck at the beast.

The fight became fierce, with swords striking at the beast as it bit at Jashen. It would not give up on him, and seemed focused on killing him. Slowly the sway of the fray swung to the hunters and the boogey went down, bleeding from many cuts and a slight steam rising from its body.

Jashen and the others were panting from the fight and the casters were all sitting to regain the energies they drew on in battle. Jashen wiped the back of his gauntlet across his forehead. It seemed that the others were ready, so he again got his bow ready.

“I shall bring them back to us,” he said, oaken shortbow in hand. He knew he should replace it, and made a note to talk to Thovan as soon as possible about making one from him. It was hard to find decent short-bows in this land of the Great Bow and powerful scouts.

He again sighted on a boogey again and let fly his arrow. The brief fray of a few minutes earlier repeated itself, and soon the beast was dead at their feet. There was no reasoning or pattern to how long or how many of the boogeys had to be slain in order to make the rooters of the area friendly, but Jashen would not stop hunting them until he was sure that the rest of his party could safely move through the low areas where the great pigs fed.

As the second fell, he moved quickly toward the third, calling “This way!” to the others as he moved. They slew another in quick order. Jashen had fought these earlier, but he now had two or three trainings behind him. They fell much easier. Also, this time out, he had more blades with him, although he did miss Achou, who had gone to Witrin to train more.

The young Saracen cabalist was greatly growing in power and his skill with Cabalist magic seemed to need review by his trainer at Witrin with high frequency. Jashen mused on this for a moment as they slew a fifth boogey. Some of those with him were showing a little fatigue from the hunt, but Jashen knew they were each learning their craft faster this way.

Jashen sighted on a boogey, but it was too far for his bow to reach. Kalsaak calmly raised his hands and made a pass. The boogey felt the magic befuddle it’s mind and through it out of gait. It charged at the group, animal rage fixed on Kalsaak. Jashen, swords coming out of the sheaths called, “That works too!” as he launched into the attack.

Due to his unreadiness from the attack, Jashen found himself panting on the grass at the end of the fight. He looked about at the others. “Please try to approach the rooters from time to time to see if this is working.” Azaeli smiled at him. He smiled back. “Master Kalsaak, could you fetch the foe?” Jashen had learned that being ready for the attack was as good as controlling the rate of the foes coming in. He was also comfortable with the way a sorcerer would confuse or enspell the foes before they arrived.

Iphemiar, also a mercenary and using a short bow, was standing and aiming. “I got one!” he called, bow knocked to his ear and let fly.

The boogey came, charging with its massive head down and great paws throwing clots of sod and soil behind him as he ran. His nostrils snorted wide with each sucking breath of angry air. The large eyes were a palish purple. Jashen noted all of this even as he took his stance for battle

The short sword, an enchanted and so-called bloody short sword, he held higher than the Golden Inlaid longsword in his right hand. Unlike the heavier armored armsmen of the realm, his stance was slightly to the side of the approaching foe. Mensc, an armsman, stood near to hand with weapons at the ready, shield poised for the blows that would come. Iphemiar, as mercenaries were trained to do, had discarded the bow and readied his weapons.

The boogey hit into them with a great crash. Its body, while putrid and full of the stench of the plains, was solid. The huge head was wider that any one of the three and the jaws were as wide as the skull. Sharp, flashing teeth lined upper and lower jaws and caught the moonlight as it rose. This was a harder foe than those before, and Jashen found himself pressing hard every little ounce of advantage he could get. His swords flashed in the light, and he was quickly all that the boogey was sighting on.

Blood flowed from where their blades struck, and from where the jaws ripped against the chain mail that protected him. He back-pedaled, glad for the aid of Iphemiar and Mensc, both of whom were pressing in on the attack. Bright magicks flew from the casters hands and the prayers of Tobyas and Adaya both were heard over the random noises of the exchange. A certain ordered mayhem was about the fight. This two was something that Jashen had learned to live with over the past weeks.

Azaeli laid about with her great sword, wearing no shield at all. The blade seemed so large in her hands, but the skill with which she laid about her was impressive and made Jashen give her another measure of respect. Soon, the foe lay dead before them. As tough as this one had seemed, they all took a measure of satisfaction from laying it low in death. A taxed, sweating group, they paused to gather strength of arms and power before they sought another.

When each seemed ready, Kalsaak rose, his arms at his side for a moment as he hurled magic at a distant boogey. True to their nature, it paused and then rushed at the sorcerer. Kalsaak stood impassively, knowing that his warrior companions would be on the foe in short order.

True enough, Jashen, Iphemiar, Mensc and Azaeli were upon it before it got close enough to bite at the sorcerer and their blades flashed in skilled combat as they fell to the beast. Six blades flashed and fell as spells were unleashed and healing powers called up. Jashen caught a clawed-foot on his short sword and turned the blow aside only to see a sight that made him queazy. Another boogey had caught sent of the blood and carnage and was charging at them.

“ANOTHER!” he called as he pressed the first boogey. If they could not dispatch this one before the other arrived, there was a good chance that they would have to fight two foes at once, and he knew from experience that it could go badly for them, despite their skills.

Kalsaak changed his attentions quickly to the incoming beast, hands moving quickly in a spell of mezmerization. Words rolled from his mouth in a measured, even tone that was belied by the sweat rolling down his face. A second foe was something that they had not been conserving energies for. The spell was unleashed and the boogey stopped in place, seeming to still try to move forward against the invisible bound of magic that held him in place. Kalsaak swallowed heavily and called out. “The foe is mezzed!” he said, the haste of the situation causing him to use the commoners term for the type of spell he had cast.

The warriors pressed their attack on the first, hoping to get it down before the second broke loose of the spell, for these types of battle magic did not hold long on an enraged foe, be it troll, elf or moor boogey.

The first foe fell and the warriors swung to the second. Each was winded but not totally spent. Their blows fell a little slower, and did not bite quite as deep as on the first, but still the blows told true and harmed the beast greatly.

As their swords bit into the beast, a shaking revelation came to them all. The enspelled one was still fifteen feet away. They were fighting a third boogey that had been rushing them. Jashen swore under his breath and heard Azaeli mutter a prayer under her breath as they all considered the worst.

The second beast was slow in the going down. Kalsaak, Cowyn, and Adaya were grouped behind the warriors, doing what they could and trying to save some measure of energy for the third foe. Kalsaak felt the slight surge that told him his spell was weakening. He looked at the embattled second boogey and knew his spell would fail before its health did. “My mezmerization is failing,” he said calmly, much more calmly than he felt. And then it did fail. And the third rushed them. Great jaws wagged side to side as it sped across the short distance.

Jashen lunged at it, his swords striking. “Stay on that one!” he called to the other three. He was spent, he knew, and could not press to use his skills, but he had to stop the first one from reaching the magicians, or he knew they would all die. In desperation, he plied his twin spikes for the last time and gained the beasts attention. Kalsaak threw a small magic at it that interrupted its normal animal grace and Cowyn threw hands to the sky, summoning up beasts of the earth to aid Jashen.

As he scurried about, avoiding the huge paws and gaping mouth of the foe, Jashen missed Emily, the emerald simulacrum that Achou could summon up to fight for him. Since their earliest outing, Achou had used one or another kind of construct, and Jashen rarely realized how nice they were to have in combat with him. Indeed, she had come to be another blow that he depended on. He fought like a man possessed, holding the beast on him.

He did not know how long it was before the second went down, but soon he had Azaeli, Mensc and Iphemiar at his side, dropping the third finally to ground.

The fatigue from their previous fights did not compare with the near exhaustion they all felt from this last and they sagged down to the grass, directly at the bodies of the boogeys just killed. Panting and gasping for breath, the warriors rested, even as the magicians seemed to be nodding in sleep. Tobyas and Adaya each prayed from small prayers books and seemed the faster to recover from their exertions.

Jashen felt it was time to move on. Boogeys had not been his plan for this hunt to begin with. He had intended to go after the skeletal legionaires who stood foul vigil before the ancient catacombs. The risen bones of these long dead Romans were the work of Morgana and he hoped to be able to dispatch some and make the area safer for those who tended the land here. He was from peasant stock himself and knew what it was to be plagued by such things. Indeed, it was partially that upbringing that had fixated him on defending Albion at home first, and then going to the borderlands to face Midgard and Hibernia.

 

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After pausing for their rest, Jashen lifted his head and scowled at Kalsaak. “Three?” he said, an edge in his voice that was unusual for the young mercenary.

Azaeli chuckled as she tightened her shin guard. “There were three,” she quipped, winking mischieviously at Jashen.

Iphemiar smiled at her and nodded. Jashen felt his ire raise at their offhandednesss. “We should be good to move now.” He stood, adjusting his cloak about his shoulders. The fresh-sewn emblem of the League was still stiff with needlework, but he was proud to have it on him. “Let’s move to the Legionaires. They should be ok for us hunt now.” He was not over worried about how good they would do, the group seemed very capable.

They set out toward the catacomb hill. It was a weathered hillock that stood above the rolling plains of the area. The Romans had taken sacred ground, dug deep into it and built catacombs for their own dead. Now that the vile magic of Morgana was rampantly unchecked about the land and the remains of the Romans stirred and prowled the corridors of the ancient burial area. Guards long dead now again stood sentinel outside before kiosk stones that arrayed around the low, hilltop shrine that gave entrance to the crypts below. It was a place that drew many who thought they were stout of heart and proved a good portion of them wrong.

It was to there that Jashen now led his companions, prepared to fight the ancient evils that now animated the bones of the dead and made a mockery of all who in truth stood to guard the realm and her inhabitants. They moved through Cornwall at a good pace, not spreading out overmuch and keeping sharp eyes out for the dangers that lurked. This was a bad area to become distracted in. The day was nearing its end when they at last reached the catacombs. There was another group of people combating the eerie skeletal guardians of the catacombs, and Jashen led his group to the far side so that they would not be confused as to who was killing whom.

The group was harder pressed to set themselves well for the fight, but they used the stone structure of the catacombs themselves for a safe guard. Tobyas and Adaya were prepared to flee inside the foul burial chambers if there was need and the mages were arranged in an arc along the shallow stairs leading in. The four warriors stood in front of the casters and were ready. Kalsaak drew himself to full height and turned.

“From the south,” he said calmly, raising his hands to again unleash magic power to confuse and anger the foe. A faint mist seemed to surround the looming skeletal figure and it charged forward in a rage. As one, the four sprung forward and met the charge. A huge ghostly spear lashed out and struck Kalsaak even as the melee was joined. Adaya called forth a prayer of healing to sustain the mage even as Tobyas began to heal. He had been focused before on healing Jashen, but the skeletal foe seemed more focused on Azalea, and struck her many sound and solid blows.

“May the Almighty make thee whole to fight the foe and win the day!” he prayed, unleashing a lesser prayer of healing to the paladin. She straightened, facing the foe more firmly, but Tobyas immedaitely had to unleash more healing power of the divine, for Adaya was still healing Kalsaak.

The towering skeleton rocked from the blows rained in on him, but still pressed his attack against the sorcerer. His undead, single mindedness cause Jashen consternation as he hit blow after blow. His companions slashed and struck, Azaeli’s great sword hammer time again again. With an unworldly calmness, it would stab at Kalsaak, then sweep a blow into Azaeli. Finally, with a great horrid cry, it fell to the grass, defeated. It was dead already, but the ability to retain the animating was tied to the adherence of the bones, and they had rent the bone beyond ability to adhere together.

Cowyn sat at the steps, then smiled shyly at them all. “I feel I have mastered another Circle of Theurgy!”

The decorum they had all mastered for the hunt melted for a moment amid backslapping, congratulations and hoots of victory. It was always this way when on the hunt. Someone would perfect a new skill in some way and all would share in the excitement, knowing that soon it would be their turn. Jashen broke out a skin of wine and some sipped from it, but sparingly so as not to dull their response to the dangers here.

Jashen stood. “To the Center. Tobyas, can you heal Azaeli this go around?” The young cleric nodded. It seemed that Azaeli had pushed him into an uncharacteristic silence.

Kalsaak rose again, preparing to summon a foe. “Would you like speed enchantments again, Sir Jashen?”

Jashen considered it. “Aye, as long as we are not moving, that would be fine.” He surveyed the group, preparing for a new foe when he heard his name. Helamann, a friend who was with the Dragons of Avalon had emerged from the Catacombs. “Hail Jashen!” he called.ued with the strength of the earth.

Jashen turned in surprise and then executed a graceful bow. “Hail, Lord,” he said as he rose again.

Helamann grinned. “Hail Jashen!” Companions were emerging from the catacombs as well and Iphemiar bowed greetings to Laredric, another allie of the League’s.

“How fare ye, Lord?” Jashen asked as he checked his gear.

“Excellent, m’Lord Jashen,” Helamman boomed. Tis time I headed to Thidranki,” he said, serious and yet somehow jovial. Thidranki was a contested keep between the three realms.

Jashen nodded gravely, having neared that keep for battle just a few days before. “Be ye well in that fight, Lord,” he said, clasping sword arms with Helamann. Then, the fighter and his companions were striking out for Cornwall Station and the fast horses that would bear them north to the battle.

“Shall I cast a confusion on them or a discoordination?” Kalsaak asked.

Jashen thought for a moment, the others getting ready for the next skeletal warrior that they would fell in combat. “Discoordination, please,” Jashen said as he loosed his swords, ready for the foe to come to them as Kalsaak cast the spell on the undead fiend for a second time.

The skeleton, which towered at nearly seven feet or more in height, sprang toward them. Its vacant eyes still seemed to echo a murderous desire and it was said that none who were called back so by Morgana could abide the living. This time, the battle was better controlled by the group and the fiend went down with a better speed. With but a nod from Jashen, Kalsaak brought another foe in quick order. The group was falling into a rhythym. Twas rare to find such in the hunt, and Jashen relished it. Too often, hunts were spoiled by one ill-timed blow or spell. This group was working together well. Enchantments were even renewed during combat when the ethereal enchantments would fade. Such work usually required one spell caster directing the others, but this group seemed to be doing it by instinct and it was pleasing to Jashen.

Again the group brought the foe, and again they defeated it. They were really melding on this hunt, and Jashen could not help but think how much Achou would be enjoying it. The little Saracen cabalist seemed to enjoy the heave and pitch of a real battle as much as Jashen himself did. The little man would throw his arms out and cast evocations that would cause the enemy to erupt in open wounds, or to poison them. Sometimes he would make acid form a cloud that would harm the foe, but be no thicker than air to his friends.

And, of course, there was Emily. A simulacrum is an awesome casting in the first place, as it brings into being an animated force from nature that responds to the caster’s command as if they were linked in mind. Jashen has seen how other cabalists directed and managed theirs, and he had to admit that Achou had it down to something on the level of art. Emily, the latest in the line, switched targets as smoothly as any living companion that Jashen fought with, most of the time. Tobyas would even place blessings upon it, and it was more effective when he did.

One large plus to the Simulacrum was that it could die in battle and be recreated. It did not suffer from sickness upon being recreated, and it didn’t drink Jashen’s ale. The hulking mass of rock could also be enchanted to somehow have attacks back on the foe. Jashen was amazed at that but given his increased exposure to that, he was less and less wonder filled at the event.

The group was preparing for another of the Roman skeletons and pulled Jashen from his musings. He readied himself and swung into combat as the being neared. He had noticed during their pause that Adaya and Mensc were indeed very close, especially for an armsman and a cleric. Mensc would, when it seemed no one was looking, blow kisses to the comely lady-cleric. Jashen had supressed a smile at first. Then he noticed in a quiet moment how they would look at each other, and the way that Mensc bowed to Adaya after each battle was over. He had never seen Mirashta and Oakleif act like that, but he supposed they must. Even amid battle, it seemed, love found a way to be present.

The foes were being dispatched with greater ease it seemed. The group was working so well together that Kalsaak barely paused as one foe went down and another came up. Just as soon as they had one about to fall, the sorcerer would be eyeing the next and bringing it forth. After they have sent perhaps four to their unliving rewards, Kalsaak crouched down by Jashen.

The sorcerer, as most Avalonians were want, was calm and confident. His mastery of his magics was not in doubt for a second and he exuded a confidence in himself. It could not be called arrogance, but that was owed more to Kalsaak himself than anything else.

“My friend,” the sorcerer said, taking the wine skin that Jashen offered him, “I think we could take two of them at once. That would speed both the attacks, and our learning.” He squirted a stream of wine into his mouth perfectly and passed the skin back. “But only if you agree will I summon two.”

Jashen thought on it for a moment. They were nine in the hunt, and if it did go badly, Tobyas or Adaya would surely be able to get inside the catacombs themselves. As long as they met no danger there, it would be an easy matter for them to emerge later and call the dead back to life. He nodded.

“Aye, I think you have the right of it, friend,” he said, standing and securing the wine skin again in his pack. He had not carried one at his hip since Arcalan had melted one for him. “Friends, prepare for two of the foes. Master Kalsaak will try to mezmerize the second, but we should be prepared incase it should fail to take.”

He looked at each of them in turn. Crispian had often talked about the need to show confidence when in command, and Jashen found it easy to meet the eyes of this group. Some had been friends for a while now, and some he had just met. He still felt a bond to each one. Each was a League brother or sister, or else a dear friend. Their gazes returned the feeling of confidence that Jashen felt. He nodded ready and they reformed into their attack lines, with the two clerics near to the entrence to the Catacombs. Kalsaak calmly repeated his spell and the skeleton was rushing them agian.

Close behind the first was a second and Jashen saw the bluish swirl about its feet that said magic was at work, but the foe resisted! Vaseth quickly threw forth a cage of ice that covered the beast and stuck it in place.

“That only last a few seconds!” he called as he turned his lethal wizardry loose on the first target. Great orbs of deadly fire shot forth from his hands to hit the skeletal warrior even as Cowyn was summoning up his small earth spirits to rush the skeleton like an army of small mud children.

Azaeli, Jashen, Iphemiar and Mensc fought with a savagery against the undead beast, trying to lay it low as quickly as possible. Their blades struck, sometime with just raw might and other times with the graceful moves of trained warrior. The second skeleton began to move before the first was down.

Kalsaak, being the target of the second one, stood his ground, tall and proud. He did not flinch back from the blow, but met it rather head one. The spear stabbed deep into his chest, just as the first skeleton crumpled to the ground. Wihout pause, Jashen and Iphemiar were on it, shortly followed by Azaeli and Mensc. Their paired blades bit into the bone of the fell being, and then the bite from Azaeli’s heavy blade was upon it, renting ribs from sternum. This one did not pause, it wheeled about on her with its cold spear and stabbed directly. Tobyas yelled forth his prayer of healing even as Azaeli reeled from the blow.

With the combined skill of all, the second was brought down, but not before there was blood on Azaeli’s plate and Kalsaak’s robe was a near ruin. The shattered bones of the skeleton lie strewn on the grass as they all collapsed against the stairs, nearly spent from the closeness of the battle. .

Jashen leaned on his forearms, bracing them on his legs. “Well, that was close!” he panted in great breaths. Can we do it better next time?”

Kalsaak stood, smoothed his robes with a gesture. “From the southeast!” he called and began to cast. Jashen crammed his helm back on and leapt up. Azaeli and Iphemiar both made ready. Mensc stood, adjusting his armor for a moment more and yelled out “Jump on my sword while ye can Evil! I won’t be gentle!” even as the foes rushed them.

Again, with an ungainly stride, the skeleton was upon them and they were engaged. They again fell to with great efforts, their weapons striking and making noises countered by the spellcasting from behind them. In but moments, it was down, a much easier victory than the last.

Thus is was until they retired toward Cornwall Station for the night.

 

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/bump =o)