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Message: <blockquote data-quote="jayaint" data-source="post: 1385421" data-attributes="member: 6154">Chapter OneRain had begun to fall outside the inn. Quietly at first, while the diners were still eating and talking. Now, though, as Bhannimann had all but the last dish or two cleared from the table, the rain was falling steadily harder. “Looks as though we chose a good time to stop and rest, Thyr,” Onya mentioned uneasily to Thyr across the table. . Thyr didn’t move his eyes from the thick windows awash with rainwater, but grumbled something and tossed his head. Though Innkeeper Bhartif might have been upset had he noticed, Thyr’s hand was wrapped tightly around the hilt of the warhammer at his side. Onya noticed. He stood and quickly walked to the window to peer outside. Nighttime had settled in with the storm clouds, making the view murky and inky. With the first flash of lightning, Onya’s eyes saw only the swelling river, and the trees of the far side. Thunder rattled the plates in the kitchen. Bhannimann waddled back into the Great Room, oblivious to the tension, with keys jangling in his fist. “I guess I should be locking up now. Not that I was going to have any business anyways, but no one else is going to be out in this weather.” He fiddled with the key ring for a second, locating the correct key. “Even if you did, Innkeeper, you’d have no vacancies, remember,” Onya spoke into the pane of glass, eyes still searching. “Very true, traveler, very true.” Bhartif started blindly towards the door, his small pouch of gold on his mind. His hand was extended with the key at the ready when the door seemed to explode inwards, hinges straining so as to not send the door flying across the room. A woman stood silhouetted in the doorway by more lightning, and as the thunder pounded overhead she slumped against the frame. Onya’s head echoed with a distant scream, but was sure that his ears had not heard anything over the commotion at the door. He rushed forward to grab the woman and pull her inside. Thyr stepped around them and was guarding the door, peering out. His warhammer, now in plain sight, glistened with rain drops, steady in his thick hands. The woman was still for a moment, unmoving, though she appeared unhurt. Then her breath caught her, and her chest expanded raggedly and her eyes flew open. Her mouth went to speak, but before her lips could move, Onya imagined her running through the night, a dark form at her side, felt the rain pelting her, and knew that she had been chased here. She tried to speak, but could only manage a sob. Her eyes opened and met Onya’s. His mind buzzed. He shook his head, and he focused his concentration. A faint blue-white aura swirled around him slowly and then with a small flash disappeared into her. Her rigid body relaxed and her panting and sobbing stilled.     Thyr looked back over his shoulder in to the room behind him. Onya knelt over the young woman. Bhannimann was sprawled on his back on the floor. He looked around his inn with a dazed expression, his eyes were in a kind of glazed over shock. As Thyr turned his head back to the river, the familiar hiss of an incoming arrow whistled in his ear. He ducked just in time as the projectile ripped into and splintered the doorframe.    Several more arrows thudded into the side of the building and one passed through the open doorway and struck the floor mere inches from Bhannimann’s head. His eyes rolled back and he fainted, his head hitting the floor with a hollow thud.     Thyr jumped up and grasped the unsteady door to close it and gain some protection. Something stopped him, if only for a split second. During that second, illuminated in an electric flash of lightning, he saw a strange shadow on the ground outside the door and it was growing larger.     A jumbled mass of dark figures slammed deafeningly into the ground on the doorstep of the inn. The timbers and beams of the building shook from the impact. Lanterns swung crazily from the ceiling, causing a dizzy dance of shadows in the room. The young woman’s eyes flew open and she struggled to sit up. Onya turned to see.     A thin whine rang out and then tapered off in pain. Scaly wings and sharp talons flashed in the soft light spilling out of the inn. Then, with an abrupt thrust, a blade pierced through one of the writhing bodies. A figure, central to the melee, found its feet and arose from the chaos. It raised a head covered in matted fur and blood to the cloudy night sky and let loose a howl.     “Kantanar,” cried the young woman, stretching out her hand to him.     The half-wolf’s eyes flashed into the inn. He looped his sword in a tight, compact arc, with one scaly body still impaled upon it, and it sliced into and through another. Thyr sprang to life suddenly, gripping his warhammer with both hands and attacking the closest winged creature. The half-wolf used his other hand to provide the resistance to extract his sword from the two bleeding bodies. They fell with a splash into the mud at his feet.     Inside the inn, Onya stood and moved nearer to the door, raising his hands above his head and speaking an archaic language. A gossamer thin sheet of energy draped over Thyr and the half-wolf as they fought. The young woman’s eyes widened to see one of the creature’s talons seemingly deflect off the delicate aura surrounding the half-wolf.     Onya then moved outside carefully, speaking again in hushed tones. His eyes erupted in a flash of soft yellow light, and he began to peer out into the darkness.     Thyr raised his hammer to block a taloned claw from landing its blow, and then used his thick arms and gravity to turn the creature’s leg into pulp with a precise swing. The half-wolf’s sword made a jagged tear in a dark wing, and then landed thickly in a scaly shoulder.     The last two remaining winged lizards crouched and jumped into the rainy night, flapping their wings in retreat. They disappeared into the darkness quickly.     Onya’s glowing eyes had found what they searched for. Across the river, four reptilian figures crouched in the tall reeds on the bank. They held bows at the ready and were preparing to launch another volley, though even the sharpest of eyes would have been unable to see them in the darkness. To Onya’s eyes whch were flowing with magic, however, they stood out as plain as day.     His eyes narrowed, he clenched his fist and the far side of the river exploded in fire. Screams and whines echoed over the rain.     He turned back to re-enter the inn. He stopped. The half-wolf and Thyr were both standing still, mouths agape, looking upwards. The young woman was leaning against the doorframe, one hand on the arrow shaft embedded in the wood. Her gaze was directed upwards, though she could not see what had enthralled the two warriors.     On the roof of the building now stood a large deformed figure. He was hunched over, and had a cloak pulled over his angled form. The only part of him they could see has a gnarled and curled up hand, sticking out at an odd angle from his cloak.     “It shouldn’t have to be like this,” he barked out.     The group stood in silence.     “It ends here, you know. You all will not stand in my way.”     His hand began to sway, his fingertips leaving trails of light in the air. The rain began to swirl around the group and the ground seemed to suck in its breath. It became quiet and still. Lightning flashed silently with no thunder to follow. Thyr bowed his head as he felt a great power begin to crush him. Onya’s breath leapt from his body under the pressure. The half-wolf tried to howl but could not.     Without warning, the man’s hand splayed out rigidly. His other hand went to his head under his cloak. He groaned and wobbled on the pitched roof. The rain once again fell straight down, and the wind twisted through the night air.    He screamed and toppled, falling into space. Something flashed under his cloak and his figure disappeared before it hit the ground.     The group gasped for breath and looked around. The young woman was crumpled on the ground, with blood streaming from her nose and mouth. Her eyes were slow and dull, and yet as they met Onya’s, he saw in his mind the blast of energy she had released that had caused the figure on the roof so much pain. He guessed there was much more to her than just her beauty.     Bhannimann sat up groggily, and looked around.     “What did I miss?”</blockquote>

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