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Enchanted Trinkets Complete--a hardcover book containing over 500 magic items for your D&D games!

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Kastil" data-source="post: 2073093" data-attributes="member: 5649">Well I must have my synopsis on my other computer but here's my writing sample. It actually went over the 10 page mark by a couple of sentences but I only sent 10. Enjoy! Synopsis: [sblock]Azril of Greenblade (human male Eldeen ranger) and Carowynne d’Valadis (human female Eldeen ranger), soul mates and part of the Gatekeeper sect, track down a Abyssal Ravager from The Towering Wood in Eldeen Reaches to Whisper Woods in Aundair. Azril has a dire wolf companion who accompanies them. After sealing the demon in a multi-faceted jewel to prevent its escape, they realize how far they have traveled into the Whisper Woods. On their journey out, they are confronted by a Werewolf Lord in hybrid form. Azril, wanting to protect his lady at all costs and finish the task they had set out to do, tells her to flee while he sizes up the Lord. Azril is gored by the Lord but does not die. The Lord takes him deep into the Whisper Woods to let his taint incubate, to strengthen his numbers. Azril, appalled to what his befallen him, escapes the clutches of the Werewolf Lord and travels back to Eldeen Reaches in the cover of night. He finds his love, pining those many months she though he was lost to her, and tells her she must move on for he can no longer be one with her. He does not leave her room for debate and retreats before she can tell him he is a father. Deciding he prefers death to living with his affliction, he goes to the small forest beyond The Towering Wood. He knows of a place where a small waterfall exists and chooses it as his final resting place. When he arrives there, a Fossergrim is defending its home against Children of Winter. He succeeds in helping the fey in ridding the clearing of the Children. Ever grateful, the Fossergrim shows Azril even with his curse, he can still give more good than harm to the world. Taking this small patch of forest as his own to defend, Azril chooses life once more. Years later, the child of Azril and Carowynne has grown into a beautiful young lady with the talent her mother’s family is gifted with but love also smites her. While traveling through Aundair of a caravan led by House Orien on their way to Passage as the primary horse handler, Asorethiel (dragonmark heir, lesser mark. child of Carowynne and Azril) meets a handsome young man by the name of Safir (human rogue). Safir has been hired on as a guard by House Orien. Safir is really an agent of the Werewolf Lord seeking out more prey, more importantly a dragonmarked person. Asorethiel promises to meet Safir in Merylsward and leaves her family and obligation without a word to anyone. Knowing her daughter was meant for so much more than what she chases after, Carowynne sends out two of Azril’s dearest friends to beseech him to bring back her only child at all costs. Those two are Nala (shifter female ranger) and Borac (human fighter/ranger). Azril cannot turn away a plea from someone who still owns his heart and sets out on the quest to bring Asorethiel back to Varna. With the help of a half-burned letter, Azril knows Asorethiel is headed to Merylsward. They retrieve her but someone else is also after her and knows of Azril’s condition. Enter the Fossergrim friend and a warning about others in the small forest. A group of humans and half-orcs led by a changeling attack. This splits the party due to the severe wounding of Baroc. Continuing on, Azril loses Asorethiel to the ones chasing them and almost his life. He is saved by Donovan (cleric/fighter of the Church of the Silver Flame). Donovan helps Azril to an old druid’s home (Marian). Azril comes in contact with Ariel (half-elf Eldeen ranger) who used to travel with him during his earlier years. There is tension between the two because Ariel feels he abandoned his beliefs over something he could seek out and get a cure for. Ariel is accompanied by Rechi (warforged monk male personality). He thinks he is her guardian in life to stave her recklessness. Ariel does not speak of Azril’s curse in front of Donovan, knowing his Church’s commitment. The four travel through Aundair, starting in Passage, by way of Lightning Rail. Reappearance of changeling on the train. Track the abductors of Asorethiel back to where it began. The Whispering Woods. Donovan learns of Azril’s true nature and is conflicted. He sees the good Azril is doing and it is not what he has been taught for most of his life. He helps Azril in getting Asorethiel back through an underground lair of the Werewolf Lord in the Whispering Woods. A Caryatid Column guards the entrance. The changeling again returns, enhanced by the presence of a Glimmerskin. Donovan successfully retrieves Asorethiel while Azril finally defeats the changeling. Donovan turns away and lets Azril leave, knowing that not all lycanthropes are fully evil. Azril returns his Asorethiel to her mother and learns the truth. Donovan again helps his new friend one more time by paying someone to cure him in private. Azril reunites with Carowynne and finds out Asorethiel is his daughter.[/sblock] Sample: [sblock]Lightning flashed as the rain poured down but the horses kept a steady pace. Steam rose from the ground as the chilling rain hit, giving the forest an eerie feel. Nala looked up to the sky for a hint of what lay beyond the cloud shrouded sky, her bestial features grimacing as the rain soaked her further. Growling roughly, she motioned her horse forward with her legs towards the front of the line. The small trail barely permitted her passage but not without letting the branches graze her thighs. She gave a quick nod to Borac as she passed. The human looked more miserable than her, if it was possible, but he managed a smile beneath his cloak as he flicked his fingers to the side. She flashed him a toothy grin and let the hood of her cloak fall off her head. So he had sensed the uneasiness of the woods around them too. She urged her horse onward giving only a cursory glance to the quarry they had fetched from Merylsward. She was tied and walking while the others sat upon their horses comfortably. Nala did not need to look at the woman to know her appearance, she had met Borac outside of Merylsward for the capture of the whelp. Her golden tresses, now soiled from the journey, hung limply in her face and her clothing pasted to her like a second skin. The woman’s crystal-like hazel eyes stayed ever focused forward, as if she had the power within her to bore a hole right through the man who held the rope lashed to her wrists. Azril tightened his grip on the rope around the pommel of his saddle turning back to see Nala approach him. Her long raven locks were plastered to the side of her dark skin and her eyes glowed a pale yellow. He cocked his head to the side, the rain on his tanned skin looking more like perspiration than water from the sky from beneath his cowl. She pulled up along side him and leaned close, a small growl escaping her lips. “I fear we are being tracked, Azril. Something is watching us closely, do you feel it?” Azril nodded curtly and flicked a finger. Nala allowed her cloak to slide off of her broad shoulders and handed the reins of her horse over to Azril’s outstretched hand. Grasping a small sword attached to her saddlebags, her body coiled on the back of her horse before she sprang forward. Her body seemed to glide in the air and she tucked her sword along the length of her arm. As she touched the mud impeded ground, her claws dug into the softened earth and left behind muddy prints the rain quickly hid from sight.  Azril watched her go. If anything awaited them on the path ahead, it would not get past Nala’s cunning eyes. Borac warbled a small whistle and Azril picked up the pace, guiding Nala’s horse along the side while wrapping the rope that led to their captive around the pommel of his saddle. If someone was behind them in anyway, it was best to quicken the pace than to lose them if need be amongst the trees his loyal team knew well. A smile shone through Azril’s lips. He had taken on this task as a favor to the mother of this wayward offspring and knew she had not taken this jaunt for the sheer fun of it. She was meeting someone or worse yet, someone was seeking to snatch her for sinister reasons. His eyes rolled over the landscape, seeing further than one would expect from a mere human. If only he was just that. The prisoner at the other end stumbled and fell in the mud again. Azril slowed his horse and tugged on the rope, peering back at her. The prisoner staggered to her feet and tugged back on the rope defiantly, staring hard through a mud-caked face. Azril slid smoothly from his saddle, the rope flowing through his hands as he walked back. “We are continuing and you will keep up, girl.” “You can’t treat me like this! Do you know who I am? Let me ride on a horse, you tree humping simpleton!” Azril scowled and yanked on the rope, pulling her down. His words were but a hiss but he knew she heard every word through the pouring rain. “You are Asorethiel d’Vadalis and in no position to tell me what to do. Consider this, my Lady. If you held your family in such high regard then why did you run from it? I was hired by your mother to bring you back and I will drag you home if need be. On your feet!” She stood up, wiping the fresh mud from her face and Azril smirked at the sight. It reminded him of the days he and his companions had did that intentionally while patrolling The Towering Wood. His mirth was short lived as mud spewed out of her mouth and onto his face. His expression hardened quickly as he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back. He let out his own whistle to Borac as he saw Nala bounding back with a steady leisurely pace. All clear ahead, she signaled. “Make camp!” His dagger sliced through the rope and he clutched Asorethiel by the back of the neck, leading her off the trail. His eyes were half closed as he glided through the thick trees and his hand felt her corded muscles tense. He could feel the blood rushing through her veins, quickening as they went further into the woods. The trees seemed to part before them and within the sanctuary of the trees the deluge from the sky was lessened. Asorethiel gasped at the sight ahead of her. A small copse of rocks ringed by weeping branches poured forth a rush of glittering water gathered in a moss rimmed pool. A strange warmness seemed to accumulate around the base. The grip on her neck lessened as she went forward, leaning down to brush her fingertips against the rippling pool. Her hands frantically scooped the water out of the pool, letting it cascade down her face to wash away the mud affixed there. The light footsteps on the saturated ground let her know Azril was ever vigilant in his watch over her. Azril turned his head slightly to give her some modesty as he saw her strip off her soiled shirt. He had extra clothing given to him by her mother for a case such as this. Nala and Borac had questioned him only with their eyes when he said she was going to walk back to her home per her mother’s instructions. Apparently this wasn’t the only time Asorethiel has decided to cast off her duties to her family. If only the girl knew her importance. The concern gnawing at him was valid but he buried it down into his core. Allowing thoughts as that to bubble to the surface would get them killed and he promised on his life to bring her back safe and unharmed. An empty promise to some from a man who begged death to claim him many times but not to Asorethiel’s mother. Their past was too deep to be careless now. The dirt dripped from Asorethiel’s fingertips and into the pool, dispersing as the raindrops carved ripples on the surface. She stared intently at her wavering reflection in the water, seeing the face behind the days of travel she had wiped clean. From out of the crystal like facets of the pool’s surface, her eyes turned from hazel to the deepest blue and another face emerged from the water. Her breath quickened as the face of a rather handsome man stared back at her. She blinked, thinking her mind was off on another journey again but the face remained. How odd that it looked similar to the man so intent on dragging her back to her mother except for one detail. Where Azril’s hair and facial growth was the darkest of browns, this one was framed in a sparkling white. His hair flowed about his face as if guided by the current of the small pond and his eyes bore into her, filling her with a tingling sensation. Suddenly drawn to the man, her body leaned forward. Surely just to press her lips against the calming waters would do no harm. Asorethiel closed her eyes to keep the wonderful vision from fading. Liquid sunshine embraced her as she slid into the shimmering pool. Arms wrapped around her and she sighed inwardly at the bliss she was receiving. Azril saw her dipping down to submerge her face and panic seized him as she slipped beneath the surface of the water. He dropped to his knees and caught her foot with his gloved hand, his arms tensing as he tried to pull her back. The moisture welled from her pants as he tightened his grasp. Something was fighting against him! Both of his hands gripped her and leaned back on his heels, his face coloring from the strain. “By the Five Nations, let her go!” He growled as his heels tore the soft grass from its home, inching him slowly to the pool’s embrace even as his body bent for leverage. Suddenly her head snapped back out of the water and the force pulling against him vanished, causing Azril to stumble. He landed hard on his back and Asorethiel’s leather boots smacked him square in the jaw. Shaking his head from the blow and feeling the blood trickle from his lips, Azril rolled her off of him and stood swiftly. His scimitar slid from its sheath and he stalked over to the pool past a coughing Asorethiel, her hands clawing at the ground as she gagged. The ripples in the water began to spiral and rise, forming a torrent. It raged for a moment’s time before bursting outward, leaving behind a humanoid form. Even without the aid of the sparkling sunshine, the jewels and armor of this fey creature glistened. Azril muttered under his breath and snapped his scimitar back in this sheath, throwing his shadowy cloak over his shoulder. Azril should have known the fossergrim who resided in this pool would not resist the temptation that Asorethiel presented. “Ah, Azril. It is you. Please forgive my indiscretion. I did not know you were here.” The man’s words flowed like the waterfall behind him. “Now that I see you here, I know why I have offended-“ Azril jerked his head quickly and the fossergrim stopped his speech. The fey turned with an amiable smile on his face to his watery haven with one more gaze to his guests. “Beware. You are not alone.” Azril licked his lips, the coppery taste still there, and went to Asorethiel’s side using one hand to massage the water from her lungs as she retched. Sucking in a deep breath, she lashed out at him and he jerked back as her nails bit into his cheek. The blood thinned as it mixed with the condensation already on his face. He deftly seized both of her hands in one of his and reached around to a pouch on his belt. “Vaelaer.” Azril softly spoke and his hand began to pull a tunic out of the small compartment. He ignored the slew of curses coming from her mouth as he forced the clean shirt over her head. His body turned slightly and her knee merely dug into the side of his leg instead of its intended target. Azril’s amusement was slight, feeling like he was handling a wild cat thrust into a bag instead of a cumbersome vixen. With a tug, the tunic was securely on her and he proceeded to spin her about. Lifting her up by the waist, he carried her to the fire his companions had made ready. Unceremoniously dumping her by it, he knelt and re-tied her hands with the rope. He felt her eyes boring into him. “Such hate from one so young. What could you possibly do to me if you were free, hmm?” “Give me a sword and I’ll show you.” He locked his eyes to hers. Hazel and cold as the stones of the waterfall they had just left, but still burning with the fires of loathing. He brought up her hands so she could see them, a bemused smile across his lips. “With these?” He turned her hands this way and that, rubbing his callused fingers over them. “I’d be highly surprised to hear hands as soft as these ever held onto a sewing needle, let alone a sword.” He finished the bonds with dexterous hands and she jerked free of him. He snorted at her and snatched a blanket from his saddlebags, putting it around her shoulders. “Pray I do not get loose tonight or you’ll meet the Sovereign Host by morning.” “Pray to them yourself, my lady. I have no use for Gods.” Azril turned to Borac who was minding his own business, methodically stirring the pot cooking over the fire. He tasted it periodically, tossing in seasonings as he saw fit from an open satchel beside him. “Nala is scouting the area. She saw nothing ahead but is still not convinced of us being alone besides the things that call these woods home.” Borac whispered. His cloak was thrown back showing his pale features. His curly brown locks were tight against his scalp and several earrings cascaded down his right ear. “Normally I would say she’s being her skittish self but…” He cut off his sentence with a shrug and poured some of the mixture he was stirring into a bowl, handing it to Azril before grabbing another. “If there is anything there, Borac, Nala will find it no matter what shadow it lurks in.” Azril took the bowl to Asorethiel and held it out to her. She smacked it from his hands defiantly. He shook his head and went to his horse, his eyes never quite leaving her. She kept her bitter stare on him even as she slowly started on working her hands free underneath the camouflage of the blanket. The chill from her slip in the pool faded away underneath it. Sighing at the fruitless task of setting herself free, she gave a long look towards the spilled contents of the bowl. By the Five Nations she wished she could control her temper! Damned if she’d asked for more. Gathering the blanket around her, she sank to the ground. She knew she would be walking in the morning again and she felt her legs spasm at the thought. Always he stared at her. Sometimes his expression soft, sometimes as hard as stone. She let the blanket consume her small frame and tried in vain to ignore her stomach’s scolding. Asorethiel stirred, surprised she had been able to fall asleep in such an environment. The rain had stopped but something else pricked her ears. The sounds of fighting. Her eyes opened and she peeled back enough of the blanket to see the world around her. Dead eyes stared back at her and the smell of Death lingered in her nostrils. Clutched loosely in his still hands was a small but deadly looking slender dagger. Even with only the aid of the dying fire, Asorethiel saw the glow the blade held. Borac stalked by her with blood dripping from his sword and he whipped around, the sound of steel against steel ringing in her ears. She remained hidden beneath her blanket unnoticed to Borac and his foe. Their feet danced back, Borac moving away from the fire and towards the shadows of the forest. Another pair of feet came into view. Her heart pounded in her chest as if it would burst through but she stilled her breathing and prayed this one would keep walking by her. His eyes were black pools and Asorethiel wrenched her eyes away from the eerie darkness that resided in them. His gaze pierced the night but not once did he see what lay right before him and he moved on in the night in search of other prey. A snarl came to his tusked face and he turned towards the fire, growling out a challenge to an foe unseen to her. Asorethiel slowly inched away from the dying embers of the fire as the fighting swirled around her. Her breath quickened as her trembling bound hands crept forward toward the dead man and pulled his dagger free of his stiffening hands. She winced at the sound it made but the clashing of blades on the far side of camp masked it well. She rolled around to the other side of the tree nearest to her and furiously worked the blade of the dagger against the ropes holding her hands together. The rope broke free and she scrambled up to her feet, wrapping the blanket around her like a shawl. Her breath crystallized in front her as her eyes darted from side to side. She squinted. Azril was fending off two… humans it looked like. Asorethiel smiled. She would use this attack to escape. He may have stopped her from meeting her secret love in Merylsward but she wasn’t about to let him lead her back to her mother. There was much more to life than what she was offered and her love would give her that. She silently crept away from the camp, leaving the sounds of battle behind her. Hugging the dagger close to her body, she kept the point of it to the ground. Azril was right about one thing, she had stayed away from learning completely the ways of wielding any sort of weapon. Always her head was full of dreams and aspirations, never on the life she was granted. Leave the weapon play to the boys, she mocked many times to her exasperated teacher, she had better things to do than to make her soft hands rough and cracked. By the time that pig headed ranger finished with whoever was attacking, she would be long gone. Azril squared off on his two adversaries, his own scimitar poised and ready. He had expected some sort of resistance with this task, this small patch of forest brimming with danger, but nothing of this nature. The leaner of the two, swathed in an inky darkness, waited as the other moved forward. Half-orc, Azril guessed as he moved to the side to avoid the beast’s blow. The half-orc’s long sword fluttered by Azril’s side as he used his cloak to deceive him. It flowed about him like his own shadow dancing and Azril snapped up his own weapon to slap away his foe’s next blow. His foe’s skill with a sword was unremarkable and Azril swatted his weapon away in annoyance. He knew his real foe lay the in the changeling staying off to the side. The half-orc, though his expertise was lacking, was steadily trying to maneuver Azril into a position advantageous to his companion. With Nala still out in the forest somewhere, Azril could not keep this charade going. As much as keeping one of them alive to find out their reason for attacking was his goal, he saw no way to engage the changeling without opening himself up to the half-orc. The half-orc would have to die. He feinted in and side stepped, extending his reach far beyond what he needed to hit the half-orc. His opponent reacted just as he hoped and his sword grated against his enemy’s. He leaned away from the blade as his sword was pushed down and grabbed a hold of the half-orc’s left wrist. The changeling was moving in for the kill, thinking Azril at a disadvantage. Azril whipped his sword away, pressing his fingers to the back of the half-orc’s hand and bringing the long sword to the half-orc’s throat. There was a gurgle from his throat and the blade cut in just as Azril positioned the slumping body between him and the changeling. He felt the prick of steel on his side as the blade easily sliced through the half-orc to get to him. He winced slightly as the pain intensified. The dull shine of the blade let Azril know all he needed. This group had done their homework. The changeling’s weapon was coated with silver. Spinning the half-orc’s carcass away, Azril kicked at the hand holding the long sword. The sword flew up in the air end over end and landed neatly into his awaiting left hand. He cocked his head to the side studying the changeling. The Changeling responded by slowly letting it’s dull complexion change ever so slightly. Azril’s eyes hardened as the features shifted to mimic his own and with a flick of the wrist, he sent the long sword flying at the changeling before charging in himself.   Asorethiel walked at a quick pace from the campsite. She stumbled along in the blinding nightscape and her heart leapt to her throat as a hand reached out to grab her. She spun around in terror, lashing out with the dagger. Her assailant reeled back from her, his hands reaching to his throat to stem the flow of blood. Asorethiel shrieked as he staggered towards her before falling to his knees clutching at her blanket. A chill ran through her body as she stared at the crumpled body before her, the blanket still firmly grasped in his hand. She stepped away, letting the blanket fall off her shoulders. This wasn’t one of the men taking her back to Varna. The forest came alive with sound and one edged into her mind more than anything. The steady clashing of steel coming from the way she came. Her foot edged closer to the way she was going and then she realized the foolishness of it all. Shadows were creeping all around her and panic welled up in her like an impeding storm across the seas. She broke into a run towards the camp and heard the steady footfalls of those behind her. As she tore through the brush, her steps faltered as she saw two Azrils facing off but only one held a scimitar. What could she do? Tears streamed down her face to keep pace with the rain as it intensified. The lightning streaked across the sky, lighting her surroundings once more. She choked and struggled for air as the dagger she had been holding slipped from her grasp. Near the smoking fire was Borac, his hand clenching and unclenching as his own blood pooled around him. A gilded sword had pierced his abdomen and kept him pinned to the ground. Asorethiel did not see anyone claiming ownership of the blade. She numbly slumped beside him, stroking his lustrous hair and speaking softly to him. The sword needed to come out, but she couldn’t do it. She did not have the strength mentally nor physically to try. Azril stepped in with a flurry of strikes against the slippery changeling only to hop back when he saw the silvered weapon hiss in. The blood was still steadily flowing from the last jab, its warmness leaking out of him. He waged two battles now. The one inside him, begging him to flee from such a terrible weapon, and the other between this changeling. He wished to lose neither. His foot slid forward and he whirled around, using the magic imbued in his cloak to warp the world around him. As his scimitar came up to block the blow of the changeling, his other hand swooped around, now holding a glowing dagger, and sliced across the skin. A howl of pain emanated from his opponent’s throat as it stumbled back in agony. Flesh peeled away from its face leaving a blackened hole. The rain hissed off of the dagger as Azril held it out before him. It glowed brightly, dead spots rising where the pellets of rain hit only to burn brightly again. Azril flicked it around so that the blade pointed towards the ground as he crossed his feet before him, stalking his foe as if it were his prey. His blood boiled deep within him and his eyes blazed enough to match the dagger’s ferocity. Coiled like a snake ready to strike, Azril swung his sword at the changeling causing it to lose hold on its form. The milky-white skin faded back as it parried every thrust. Their swords rose and fell but instead of Azril watching the silvered blade’s path, the changeling studied the pattern of the dagger still poised in Azril’s hand. They danced as the rain assaulted them from above and the ground came as slick as ice. The changeling feinted to his right and brought his elbow up, crashing into Azril’s jaw. His teeth snapped together and he latched on to the changeling’s arm as he fell back, bringing his feet up. Planting them firmly on the chest of the changeling, he heaved him over with his momentum and his foe landed hard on the ground. Swathed in tendrils of mud, Azril rolled over to regard his foe before slowly rising. His eyes never wavered as he watched the changeling rise shakily from the ground. A sharp howl broke through the sound of his own breathing. Nala had returned. The changeling, seeing a disadvantage forming in front of him, turned coat and bolted into the surrounding trees. A low growl escaped Azril’s lips as he went to follow but something broke through the growing blood rage. The sound of Asorethiel’s cry for help. He looked across the remains of their fire and saw her clutching Borac’s hand. Azril saw a bare remnant of life in the too pale face of his friend and the torment of losing him wracked through his mind. He fled to his friend’s side, dropping his scimitar on the ground and falling to his knees just as Nala got there. Azril hovered his hands over the sword still lanced through Borac and Nala put a piece of cloth into them. Nala gripped the sword while Azril readied the cloth to stay the flow of blood and she yanked it free. With little strength to protest, Borac’s face twisted in anguish and his body jerked once before relaxing. “Asorethiel, to my horse. Get the brown bottle in the small sack. Quickly!” Azril pulled Nala’s hands down to hold the cloth as Asorethiel scrambled up to do as she was told. Azril worked feverishly to remove the armor encasing Borac. He was still alive, out cold from the pain, but fading just the same. He would not make it to Varna, they were too far away. His only hope would be Riverweep. Asorethiel handed the bottle to Azril but he pushed it back towards her. She saw the gentleness in his eyes this time, the deep concern for his companion so badly hurt from this senseless attack. Azril slid to Borac’s head and tilted in back. “Listen carefully, Asorethiel. This will not save him but help Nala in what she needs to do next. I want to you pour the content of that bottle down his throat.” He pried open Borac’s mouth and nodded to her. Her hands trembled as she did this task, some of the liquid spilling over and onto the ground. Stroking his throat, she forced him to swallow it. Her lips quivered when he did not move after she was done and she looked hopefully to Azril. “I have to finish this journey myself, Nala.” He whispered. “With those things out there hunting you? I will not allow you!” Nala bared her sharp teeth in a snarl. “Borac deserves not to die. Take him now to Riverweep. It is the closest. Don’t question me now, we will not debate this further.” His expression matched hers and it seemed to Asorethiel that they would soon cross blades. The torrent of emotions thickened the air around them but with a feral growl, Nala stalked to her horse and made ready for the journey.  “Leave now, Azril. Whether it is you or the girl they want, to linger here will kill more than Borac.” Nala tugged and pulled on her saddle straps, tightening them up for the road ahead. Feeling his blood boil at this whole situation, Azril pulled Asorethiel up by the hand and pulled her to his horse. “You get your wish this night.” He wrapped his hands around her waist and tossed her up into the saddle before sweeping himself up. Holding a hand around her waist and grabbing the reins, he trotted his faithful steed in a circle to look at the carnage around him. There was more dead bodies than he realized and some had arrows embedded in their flesh. “Nala, Si eisyrn jyhl thastolos, or?” He pointed to the arrows, some still sparking with magic. Nala finished tying Borac to his horse and walked over to one of the bodies. She ran her finger down the shaft of the arrow. Only one person used these kind of magic imbued missiles. She caught Azril’s eye and with a quick nod to Nala, he spurred his horse onto the path. Whether or not the owner of those special arrows was hiding in the cover of the forest, Nala could not waste the time to find out. She saw only Borac and their destination of Riverweep. The tree branches whipped in front of them before snapping back out of the way as his horse thundered along the path. They had many miles to travel yet and Azril feared he had not seen the last of the changeling. They are not ones to give up easy, especially when the gold is right.[/sblock] Thanks Mav for showing me that cute little hide trick!! <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" />   I'll take any comments on my writing, good or bad. A friend once told me Stephen King got rejected something like 200 times before he got 'lucky'. Looks like I'm on #1. Only 199 to go! <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f60e.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":cool:" title="Cool    :cool:"  data-smilie="6"data-shortname=":cool:" /> </blockquote>

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