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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Funeris" data-source="post: 2813493" data-attributes="member: 22792">Chapter 12: Bloodshed (Continued)Magnus made a mental note to collect the scouts’ bodies and gear after the battle was over while swallowing a second potion of invisibility.One of the horadrel archers ducked away from the window of an abandoned home.  His movement, belying training if not raw speed, saved his life.  Three arrows slid through the window and lodged in the far wall of the room.  Unfortunately the archer had not managed to avoid all of the projectiles.  Two shafts—both from that blasted Rorn—were lodged in his left shoulder.  He had broken the shafts; the arrowheads still send twinges of pain through his arm.His companions, the two other archers, had not faired nearly so well, he feared.  Both the paladin and the Rorn had concentrated their fire on his window.  Either they were fools or—more likely—his companions were dead.In the end it would not matter.  The archer had his orders and they were only to cover the real first wave.  Motion on his left drew his attention from the new barrage of missiles that poured through the window.  Three shadows charged past the door, running full tilt toward the church’s old stone wall.“Time’s up,” the archer murmured.  He nocked a fresh arrow and pivoted to the right, taking a cursory aim.Two slender arrows pummeled the horadrel in his gut causing the archer to release his shot early.  As the arrow leapt high into the air and flew harmlessly over Tobias’ and Motega’s heads, the archer crumpled to the floor.  Twin stains of red spread across the belly of his leather armor.  A painful cough rattled his lungs.  Fluid, blood was filling his lungs.  With a quick and painful movement, he snapped the shafts.  Then he crawled toward the door, toward escape and freedom.“MORE!” bellowed Devon as three gruesome forms scrambled atop the wall.  The young man released an arrow.  It sped with deadly accuracy toward one of the three brutes but at the last moment spiraled and clattered against the wall, just missing its target.That man, however, was forced to slide his hand away from the impact, bending his shoulder to avoid the bouncing projectile.  He grunted as he lost his footing and slammed heavily into the barrier.  He grasped the ledge with one hand, fingers bleached white with strain.Tobias glanced at Motega and gave a curt nod.  The paladin tossed his bow over the shoulder.  With a long stride he charged toward the church and the only entrance into the courtyard where the new threat would arrive.  Motega nocked another arrow and slipped into the shadows, edging closer to the archer’s last position.Magnus had heard Devon’s cry as he circled above the city.  To the east, the mage had just picked out a fresh target:  a lone shadow creeping through the brush toward the stone wall.  His scroll was at that ready but he mentally changed targets.  Culites breaching the southern wall would be the worse threat.The mage shimmered into existence as another bead of energy rocketed from his hand, toward the three brigands.The Culite warrior finally released his grasp upon the edge.  His fingers could only support his entire weight for a scant few moments.  With a thud, the brigand landed on the dusty road.  Above him, he could make out the laughing forms of the other two mercenaries.  Cursing, he pushed himself up to a sitting position.That was when he noted the bright red bead speed toward his allies.Devon saw the bead as well.  While not a smart man, Devon recognized the bead for what it was:  witchery.  Quickly the handsome—not courageous—fool spun like a top and raced toward the edge of the carriage house.  He was not quite fast enough.Magnus smiled as the bead exploded outward, a cruelly blossoming flower of flame.  The two Culites on top of the wall were flung into the air by the heat and force.  Even Devon the Handsome felt the burn as the roiling wave of death blackened the back of his leather armor and gave him an extra boost into the air from the carriage house roof.The brigand on the ground through himself flat and managed to avoid the main blast of the fireball.  Still, his hair burst into flame and his face blistered as the heat above him dissipated.  The brigand shut his eyes and prayed through the pain.Magnus whirled in the air, and kicked toward his soon-to-be-victim in the east.Tobias barged into the courtyard, the dwarf Cochly close on his heels.  They watched as the fireball expanded in slow motion, flinging its three victims—intentional or not—harshly into the air.Cochly let out a low whistle.The carriage house seemed to tremble as the arcane flames winked out of existence.  A moment later a flash of flame and a puff of black smoke reminded Tobias of the unending drought that had gripped Rhelm.  “Damn.  He just had to choose fire,” he murmured.“One’s on the ground,” Cochly spit, gesturing toward a brigand.  “Yeah, but where’s the other?”  As if in response, a charred form lurched upward.  It wobbled for a second, ash and dust falling in a continuous stream.  It reached around, patting out a few smoldering wisps of flame on its back.  Abruptly, it screamed a high, crazy wail.  Then it surged into motion toward the paladin and dwarf.Cochly lifted his axe, his small but solid arms and shoulders bunching to prepare a powerful two-handed swing.  Tobias grasped the dwarf’s shoulders and shook his head.  “That’s one of ours,” the paladin sighed.The smoldering shadow, Devon the Once-Handsome, sped past the two warriors screaming like a girl.  Cochly sighed and turned back to the bonfire.The brigand on the ground twitched, drawing himself up just as his compatriot, who also somehow managed to survive the devastating blast flipped off the burning roof of the carriage house.“Now its time for justice!” Tobias shouted, his blade flashing into a ready stance.</blockquote>

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