Broccli_Head
Explorer
Sad times for Asbravan....
Travels through the Wild West: Books V-VIII (Epilogue)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Black Bard
First Post
Part 19...
Great post, Lazy!!!
You really tricked me with that short post... The same way you tricked me in thinking that poor Tordan would save Asbravn in a heroic manner...
Great post, Lazy!!!
You really tricked me with that short post... The same way you tricked me in thinking that poor Tordan would save Asbravn in a heroic manner...
Lazybones
Adventurer
Ah, the fecal matter is going to strike the oscillating multibladed air-moving device shortly for the poor suffering folk of the West. And, of course, our companions will be smack dab in the middle of it all.
First, though, they've got a very difficult challenge looming ahead of them, as they draw nearer to the secret that lurks within the depths of the Reaching Woods...
* * * * *
Book VII, Part 20
“Step where I step, remain alert,” Zev told them. The gnoll druid’s bare feet squished on the sodden underfoot, as he led them forward. Ahead they could see that the forest gradually changed, the dense, clinging underbrush they’d been fighting for the last two days replaced by dense clusters of reeds jutting from stagnant pools of muck up to a few paces across. The tall, majestic trees were still present, but interspersed with the mighty trunks were sprawling, twisted varieties that sent their branches dipping back down into the earth as often as they tried to reach up toward the sky high above. The air was wet here, and heavy with the smell of decay. Zev had named this region of the Wood only “the Mire,” the capital audible in the way he said the word, and they had to take it on his word that this route was their best chance of drawing near to the druidic shrine known as the Weeping Stones.
They followed the druid in single file, the only sound the sucking of the muddy soil on their boots. The somber atmosphere wasn’t conducive to talking, and they hadn’t felt much like idle chatter since their discovery that first morning after they’d met Zev.
It had not been a pleasant experience. The druid and his badger companions had marked the trail left by the dragonkin and their captives with ease, and they suspected that it was his presence that allowed them to mark a sheltered camp and avoid any further trouble from the denizens of the forest. The next day they had set out again, but had barely spent an hour’s travel before the animals had begun to grow skittish, agitated. The rest of them had felt it too, even before they followed the trail into a clearing ringed by an even dozen of massive trees.
The place had the signs of a campsite, and the dragonkin had not bothered to clean up the marks they’d made on the Wood by their passage. What had immediately drawn their attention, however, were the bodies. Nearly a dozen, all roped to the trunks of the trees to that their arms and legs were spread wide, their bodies held immobile. They had been stripped of clothes, and much of their flesh as well. For some, it was impossible to tell what race they had been, from what was left. While they cut them down, Gorath commented that it appeared that they had been alive, at least when the dragonkin had begun. His voice was like iron drawn over a whetstone, and after burying the bodies they had hurried on, as if they could leave the memory of what they had seen behind them by the tread of their steps through the forest.
The two badgers—Zev had not bothered to tell the companions their names, if they had any—remained close to the druid, trudging along through the mire, twisting their noses in every direction. Occasionally one or the other would growl softly, the sound like a rumbling deep in the creature’s throat, and Zev would call a halt, holding still and testing the air with all his senses. Other times a loud splash or sudden movement nearby would startle the companions, but neither the badgers nor the gnoll would pay it any heed. Even Gorath, whose nature lore was superior to any of them save perhaps Dana, looked a little jumpy after a few hours’ travel through the Mire.
But nothing emerged from the shadows to challenge them. They pushed on steadily, delayed only when Zev directed them carefully around a wide bog or morass of mud and water that looked treacherous even to those without woodlore. There were other places where no danger seemed to threaten, where the trail looked no different than any other, but which Zev cautiously bypassed. Morning crept into afternoon, with only short breaks and lunch consumed walking, and the permanent twilight under the forest canopy began to deepen as evening gradually approached.
“I hope we’re through this soon,” Dana said quietly. “I wouldn’t want to spend the night in this place.”
“Assuming we can trust this guy not to lead us astray,” Benzan returned in a loud whisper. “If he left us here, we’d be hard-pressed...”
“He’s steered us pretty well thus far,” Cal said, cutting him off. “Quiet—there’s something up ahead.”
Soon they could all make out what the gnome’s sharp vision had detected. Ahead of them stretched a broad pool, shaped like a crescent with its sides wrapping toward them. Beyond the pool, they could see that the forest floor began to slope upward, promising a possible end to the marshy lowland. To their left, at the edge of the pool, they saw what had alerted the gnome; a blocky shape that had the look of a man-made structure. Zev led them closer, and they could see that it was just the ruin of a building, the remnants of walls laid out in heavy stone blocks as thick as a man’s arm was long. What was left was barely the size of a hut, and only one angle of the walls was intact, but the shattered remnants of stone, some of which jutted from the surface of the pond, suggested that once it had been more substantial. Glistening lichens covered most of the exposed stone surface, and dense growth protruded from every gap in the stone.
“We’re going to camp here?” Lariel asked, glancing at the ruin dubiously.
“Short rest,” Zev said. He growled something to the badgers, who immediately started toward the ruin, sniffing around the edges of the stone blocks, and occasionally pausing to dig in the omnipresent mud. The companions were familiar with this by now—the things seemed to have an inexhaustible appetite, and ate just about anything they could turn up. Sometimes Zev produced something for them from a pouch, a rabbit or a giant earthworm, though he never seemed to hunt as far as any of them could see.
“We can’t go on forever, Zev,” Cal said, sagging wearily against a nearby stone block that jutted up from the mud. “We need rest.”
The druid looked over them all, weighing their bedraggled appearance, and nodded. “Sleep then. I will watch. Not long—not safe, too close. Tomorrow we reach Nar’dek’alok.”
Even Benzan was too worn out to complain. Wearily they set up bedrolls and blankets, huddled in the lee of the ruined wall. Zev vanished before they could even finish those limited preparations, and by the time they’d prepared a cold supper, the badgers had wandered off as well. Benzan peered off into the deepening gloom with suspicion, but there was nothing to be done; they’d already decided to put their trust in the strange gnoll druid, and while they would be cautious it was too late to change their course. To that end they elected to set their own watch, with Gorath standing first duty. Despite his inherent fortitude, Cal was particularly weary, likely due to the fact that he’d had to hurry most of the day just to keep up with the others due to his size. Dana was fresher, in turn because of her magic boots, but despite her offer to stand a watch it was clear as a human, her lack of nightvision would make her less that useless on watch. When it came down to it, though, none of them resented the spellcasters for their sleep; they would likely need their spells, in the coming day.
Despite the cold and discomfort of the mud and hard stone, and the noises that continued to whisper from the Mire, those not watching the night drifted off swiftly into an exhausted sleep. Cal closed his eyes even as he tugged his blanket around him. His ring of warmth protected him from the night’s chill, but even though it did nothing against the discomfort of his hard stone bed, exhaustion carried him off and he was asleep within moments. It seemed that he’d barely closed his eyes, however, before he felt someone above him, shaking him insistently. He looked up and despite the darkness that had fallen over the camp like a heavy wool cloak, he could make out the outlines of Lariel’s features.
“Enemies approach,” the elf hissed, then vanished.
First, though, they've got a very difficult challenge looming ahead of them, as they draw nearer to the secret that lurks within the depths of the Reaching Woods...
* * * * *
Book VII, Part 20
“Step where I step, remain alert,” Zev told them. The gnoll druid’s bare feet squished on the sodden underfoot, as he led them forward. Ahead they could see that the forest gradually changed, the dense, clinging underbrush they’d been fighting for the last two days replaced by dense clusters of reeds jutting from stagnant pools of muck up to a few paces across. The tall, majestic trees were still present, but interspersed with the mighty trunks were sprawling, twisted varieties that sent their branches dipping back down into the earth as often as they tried to reach up toward the sky high above. The air was wet here, and heavy with the smell of decay. Zev had named this region of the Wood only “the Mire,” the capital audible in the way he said the word, and they had to take it on his word that this route was their best chance of drawing near to the druidic shrine known as the Weeping Stones.
They followed the druid in single file, the only sound the sucking of the muddy soil on their boots. The somber atmosphere wasn’t conducive to talking, and they hadn’t felt much like idle chatter since their discovery that first morning after they’d met Zev.
It had not been a pleasant experience. The druid and his badger companions had marked the trail left by the dragonkin and their captives with ease, and they suspected that it was his presence that allowed them to mark a sheltered camp and avoid any further trouble from the denizens of the forest. The next day they had set out again, but had barely spent an hour’s travel before the animals had begun to grow skittish, agitated. The rest of them had felt it too, even before they followed the trail into a clearing ringed by an even dozen of massive trees.
The place had the signs of a campsite, and the dragonkin had not bothered to clean up the marks they’d made on the Wood by their passage. What had immediately drawn their attention, however, were the bodies. Nearly a dozen, all roped to the trunks of the trees to that their arms and legs were spread wide, their bodies held immobile. They had been stripped of clothes, and much of their flesh as well. For some, it was impossible to tell what race they had been, from what was left. While they cut them down, Gorath commented that it appeared that they had been alive, at least when the dragonkin had begun. His voice was like iron drawn over a whetstone, and after burying the bodies they had hurried on, as if they could leave the memory of what they had seen behind them by the tread of their steps through the forest.
The two badgers—Zev had not bothered to tell the companions their names, if they had any—remained close to the druid, trudging along through the mire, twisting their noses in every direction. Occasionally one or the other would growl softly, the sound like a rumbling deep in the creature’s throat, and Zev would call a halt, holding still and testing the air with all his senses. Other times a loud splash or sudden movement nearby would startle the companions, but neither the badgers nor the gnoll would pay it any heed. Even Gorath, whose nature lore was superior to any of them save perhaps Dana, looked a little jumpy after a few hours’ travel through the Mire.
But nothing emerged from the shadows to challenge them. They pushed on steadily, delayed only when Zev directed them carefully around a wide bog or morass of mud and water that looked treacherous even to those without woodlore. There were other places where no danger seemed to threaten, where the trail looked no different than any other, but which Zev cautiously bypassed. Morning crept into afternoon, with only short breaks and lunch consumed walking, and the permanent twilight under the forest canopy began to deepen as evening gradually approached.
“I hope we’re through this soon,” Dana said quietly. “I wouldn’t want to spend the night in this place.”
“Assuming we can trust this guy not to lead us astray,” Benzan returned in a loud whisper. “If he left us here, we’d be hard-pressed...”
“He’s steered us pretty well thus far,” Cal said, cutting him off. “Quiet—there’s something up ahead.”
Soon they could all make out what the gnome’s sharp vision had detected. Ahead of them stretched a broad pool, shaped like a crescent with its sides wrapping toward them. Beyond the pool, they could see that the forest floor began to slope upward, promising a possible end to the marshy lowland. To their left, at the edge of the pool, they saw what had alerted the gnome; a blocky shape that had the look of a man-made structure. Zev led them closer, and they could see that it was just the ruin of a building, the remnants of walls laid out in heavy stone blocks as thick as a man’s arm was long. What was left was barely the size of a hut, and only one angle of the walls was intact, but the shattered remnants of stone, some of which jutted from the surface of the pond, suggested that once it had been more substantial. Glistening lichens covered most of the exposed stone surface, and dense growth protruded from every gap in the stone.
“We’re going to camp here?” Lariel asked, glancing at the ruin dubiously.
“Short rest,” Zev said. He growled something to the badgers, who immediately started toward the ruin, sniffing around the edges of the stone blocks, and occasionally pausing to dig in the omnipresent mud. The companions were familiar with this by now—the things seemed to have an inexhaustible appetite, and ate just about anything they could turn up. Sometimes Zev produced something for them from a pouch, a rabbit or a giant earthworm, though he never seemed to hunt as far as any of them could see.
“We can’t go on forever, Zev,” Cal said, sagging wearily against a nearby stone block that jutted up from the mud. “We need rest.”
The druid looked over them all, weighing their bedraggled appearance, and nodded. “Sleep then. I will watch. Not long—not safe, too close. Tomorrow we reach Nar’dek’alok.”
Even Benzan was too worn out to complain. Wearily they set up bedrolls and blankets, huddled in the lee of the ruined wall. Zev vanished before they could even finish those limited preparations, and by the time they’d prepared a cold supper, the badgers had wandered off as well. Benzan peered off into the deepening gloom with suspicion, but there was nothing to be done; they’d already decided to put their trust in the strange gnoll druid, and while they would be cautious it was too late to change their course. To that end they elected to set their own watch, with Gorath standing first duty. Despite his inherent fortitude, Cal was particularly weary, likely due to the fact that he’d had to hurry most of the day just to keep up with the others due to his size. Dana was fresher, in turn because of her magic boots, but despite her offer to stand a watch it was clear as a human, her lack of nightvision would make her less that useless on watch. When it came down to it, though, none of them resented the spellcasters for their sleep; they would likely need their spells, in the coming day.
Despite the cold and discomfort of the mud and hard stone, and the noises that continued to whisper from the Mire, those not watching the night drifted off swiftly into an exhausted sleep. Cal closed his eyes even as he tugged his blanket around him. His ring of warmth protected him from the night’s chill, but even though it did nothing against the discomfort of his hard stone bed, exhaustion carried him off and he was asleep within moments. It seemed that he’d barely closed his eyes, however, before he felt someone above him, shaking him insistently. He looked up and despite the darkness that had fallen over the camp like a heavy wool cloak, he could make out the outlines of Lariel’s features.
“Enemies approach,” the elf hissed, then vanished.
Attachments
Broccli_Head
Explorer
thanks for the map!
Lazybones
Adventurer
Book VII, Part 21
His exhaustion temporarily forgotten, Cal sprang up from his bedroll, already clutching at the neat bundle of gear that he’d stashed under the blanket against his body. He’d laid his components and wands where they would be within easy reach, but it took a few moments for him to fully shake off the web of sleep.
He could only just make out shadows that would be his companions, barely distinguishable from the deeper shadow that was the wall. He saw a dark form move around the edge of the wall and started, only to realize that it was Gorath, the ranger. He did not know how late it was; the sky above was shrouded by the forest canopy, and likely overcast anyway.
“Where is Zev?” he asked softly.
“There’s no sign of the druid, or his pets,” a voice came from beside him. Benzan’s voice. Behind him, Cal heard a soft cough, recognizable as Dana. She wouldn’t be able to see at all, he realized, but between Benzan, Lok, and Gorath’s darkvision, they would be able to detect any threat.
“What is it?” he asked. Looking around, he saw that Lariel had truly gone, probably to scout whatever it is that they had detected.
“Dragonkin,” Gorath said. “At least a dozen. They’ll be here in moments.”
“I can turn the night into day,” Dana said. “It should disorient them, but the sudden change will be startling to you, as well.”
“Very well,” Gorath said. “Await my signal, then hurl your magic.”
Cal was already spellcasting, summoning his protective stoneskin once more. Even as he finished, though, he could hear sound from beyond the wall, in the direction of the slope that led up out of the marsh. The noises were faint, but clearly audible; the sound of bulky creatures making their way through the wood.
“Do they know we’re here?” Benzan asked, fitting an arrow to his bow. The arrowhead glowed slightly, as if anticipating bursting into flame when drawn by the magical bow. Lok, as well, had his heavy bow ready, although he had not had time to don his plate mail. Cal silently cursed himself; he should have cast the stoneskin on the genasi warrior. He reached for his magical lute, intending at least to summon some mage armor.
As his fingertips brushed the instrument, everything seemed to happen at once. Lariel suddenly appeared, leaping around the uneven edge of the wall, his bow ready in his hand. A harsh shout shattered the night’s quiet, and a loud hiss, and the steady noise turned into a rush that drew toward their position.
Benzan leaned around his end of the wall and fired, even as Lariel did the same at the far end. Gorath had his axes in his hands, but he held his ground for the moment, as did Lok, although the genasi shifted to a break in the wall, where he could fire his bow at the attackers. Dana’s voice filled the confined space, calling upon the power of her goddess, and Cal closed his eyes, knowing what would come.
Even with his eyes closed, the glow that erupted was almost painful in its contrast to the darkness that had been there a moment before. Dana held up her spear, which now glowed with the brilliance of a hundred torches, transforming night into day for a sixty-foot radius around them. Blinking to try and adjust his light-sensitive eyes to the sudden light, Cal dodged forward and crept around to the broken edge of the wall behind Benzan’s shoulder, giving him a glimpse of what lay beyond.
The gentle slope running up from the ruin and its adjacent pond was brightly limned by the light of Dana’s spell, the thick trunks of the trees forming long shadows behind them. There were a good dozen dragonkin warriors, all clad in armor and bearing a variety of large weapons. Two of them stood apart, large even for the hulking dragonkin, and both carrying doubleaxes that Cal suspected he would not even be able to lift. Leaders, then; just wielding those weapons without cutting yourself required no small amount of skill. Accompanying those two was a pair of massive pony-sized giant lizards, plodding creatures that wore thick leather collars connected by leashes held by the two leaders.
The light had caught the creatures off guard; several had stumbled and were shielding their eyes, and the general rush had paused momentarily as the warriors tried to adjust to the magical brightness. But they adjusted quickly, the leaders hissing orders to the others in their own strange tongue, and releasing their leashed charges to trudge down the slope toward the ruin, their forked tongues tasting the air before them as they came.
Holding off on the mage armor for now, Cal quickly summoned the trigger words of another spell, feeling the familiar energies course through him as he called upon the arcane powers that he’d long since mastered. At his call a dense field of magical webbing sprang up out of nowhere, a sticky latticework anchored between several of the tall tree trunks that spotted the slope. The web spell spread out in a circle roughly forty feet across, catching several of the enemy in their embrace. One of the leaders managed to dodge free before the spell fully deployed, but the other found itself stuck, hissing as it tore at the strands with its considerable strength.
Arrows tore into the other warriors even as they resumed their charge, but while many of the shots found their targets, the dragonkin were possessed of an incredible fortitude that allowed them to shrug off hurts that would have incapacitated a human warrior. Even so, they could not ignore all of the damage that the companions could dish out; even as the webs appeared one staggered as Lariel shot a fourth arrow into it, electricity flaring around the edges of its metal breastplate as the magically enhanced arrow bit deep into its torso. On the other flank Benzan shot a flaming arrow into another warrior’s chest, punching through its armor. The dragonkin roared but seemed more angered than hurt, hefting its two-handed mace above its head as it charged forward toward their shelter.
Gorath hurtled the wall in a single smooth leap, crouching for a second atop the slippery surface before he leapt, axes flashing, at one of the giant lizards. The creature’s head rose just in time for the first blade to bite deeply into its snout, and it reared back, blood jetting from the vicious wound. Its fellow did not hesitate, snapping its powerful jaws at the half-orc ranger, but Gorath tumbled forward with the momentum of his leap, narrowly dodging the attack, and came up with both axes slashing at scaled flesh.
While Lariel and Benzan kept up their barrage, Lok dropped his bow and hefted his axe and shield, charging around the edge of the wall to meet the dragonkin charge. Cal grimaced in frustration—he’d been prepared to cast his spell from the magical lute, but it required a touch to work—but switched instead to another enchantment. This one would help Lok just as effectively, as well as helping him dish out more damage. The syllables spilled out from his mouth, triggering his familiar haste spell.
Lost in the magic, he didn’t hear Dana’s shout of warning, nor did he see the shadow from above until it was too late.
His exhaustion temporarily forgotten, Cal sprang up from his bedroll, already clutching at the neat bundle of gear that he’d stashed under the blanket against his body. He’d laid his components and wands where they would be within easy reach, but it took a few moments for him to fully shake off the web of sleep.
He could only just make out shadows that would be his companions, barely distinguishable from the deeper shadow that was the wall. He saw a dark form move around the edge of the wall and started, only to realize that it was Gorath, the ranger. He did not know how late it was; the sky above was shrouded by the forest canopy, and likely overcast anyway.
“Where is Zev?” he asked softly.
“There’s no sign of the druid, or his pets,” a voice came from beside him. Benzan’s voice. Behind him, Cal heard a soft cough, recognizable as Dana. She wouldn’t be able to see at all, he realized, but between Benzan, Lok, and Gorath’s darkvision, they would be able to detect any threat.
“What is it?” he asked. Looking around, he saw that Lariel had truly gone, probably to scout whatever it is that they had detected.
“Dragonkin,” Gorath said. “At least a dozen. They’ll be here in moments.”
“I can turn the night into day,” Dana said. “It should disorient them, but the sudden change will be startling to you, as well.”
“Very well,” Gorath said. “Await my signal, then hurl your magic.”
Cal was already spellcasting, summoning his protective stoneskin once more. Even as he finished, though, he could hear sound from beyond the wall, in the direction of the slope that led up out of the marsh. The noises were faint, but clearly audible; the sound of bulky creatures making their way through the wood.
“Do they know we’re here?” Benzan asked, fitting an arrow to his bow. The arrowhead glowed slightly, as if anticipating bursting into flame when drawn by the magical bow. Lok, as well, had his heavy bow ready, although he had not had time to don his plate mail. Cal silently cursed himself; he should have cast the stoneskin on the genasi warrior. He reached for his magical lute, intending at least to summon some mage armor.
As his fingertips brushed the instrument, everything seemed to happen at once. Lariel suddenly appeared, leaping around the uneven edge of the wall, his bow ready in his hand. A harsh shout shattered the night’s quiet, and a loud hiss, and the steady noise turned into a rush that drew toward their position.
Benzan leaned around his end of the wall and fired, even as Lariel did the same at the far end. Gorath had his axes in his hands, but he held his ground for the moment, as did Lok, although the genasi shifted to a break in the wall, where he could fire his bow at the attackers. Dana’s voice filled the confined space, calling upon the power of her goddess, and Cal closed his eyes, knowing what would come.
Even with his eyes closed, the glow that erupted was almost painful in its contrast to the darkness that had been there a moment before. Dana held up her spear, which now glowed with the brilliance of a hundred torches, transforming night into day for a sixty-foot radius around them. Blinking to try and adjust his light-sensitive eyes to the sudden light, Cal dodged forward and crept around to the broken edge of the wall behind Benzan’s shoulder, giving him a glimpse of what lay beyond.
The gentle slope running up from the ruin and its adjacent pond was brightly limned by the light of Dana’s spell, the thick trunks of the trees forming long shadows behind them. There were a good dozen dragonkin warriors, all clad in armor and bearing a variety of large weapons. Two of them stood apart, large even for the hulking dragonkin, and both carrying doubleaxes that Cal suspected he would not even be able to lift. Leaders, then; just wielding those weapons without cutting yourself required no small amount of skill. Accompanying those two was a pair of massive pony-sized giant lizards, plodding creatures that wore thick leather collars connected by leashes held by the two leaders.
The light had caught the creatures off guard; several had stumbled and were shielding their eyes, and the general rush had paused momentarily as the warriors tried to adjust to the magical brightness. But they adjusted quickly, the leaders hissing orders to the others in their own strange tongue, and releasing their leashed charges to trudge down the slope toward the ruin, their forked tongues tasting the air before them as they came.
Holding off on the mage armor for now, Cal quickly summoned the trigger words of another spell, feeling the familiar energies course through him as he called upon the arcane powers that he’d long since mastered. At his call a dense field of magical webbing sprang up out of nowhere, a sticky latticework anchored between several of the tall tree trunks that spotted the slope. The web spell spread out in a circle roughly forty feet across, catching several of the enemy in their embrace. One of the leaders managed to dodge free before the spell fully deployed, but the other found itself stuck, hissing as it tore at the strands with its considerable strength.
Arrows tore into the other warriors even as they resumed their charge, but while many of the shots found their targets, the dragonkin were possessed of an incredible fortitude that allowed them to shrug off hurts that would have incapacitated a human warrior. Even so, they could not ignore all of the damage that the companions could dish out; even as the webs appeared one staggered as Lariel shot a fourth arrow into it, electricity flaring around the edges of its metal breastplate as the magically enhanced arrow bit deep into its torso. On the other flank Benzan shot a flaming arrow into another warrior’s chest, punching through its armor. The dragonkin roared but seemed more angered than hurt, hefting its two-handed mace above its head as it charged forward toward their shelter.
Gorath hurtled the wall in a single smooth leap, crouching for a second atop the slippery surface before he leapt, axes flashing, at one of the giant lizards. The creature’s head rose just in time for the first blade to bite deeply into its snout, and it reared back, blood jetting from the vicious wound. Its fellow did not hesitate, snapping its powerful jaws at the half-orc ranger, but Gorath tumbled forward with the momentum of his leap, narrowly dodging the attack, and came up with both axes slashing at scaled flesh.
While Lariel and Benzan kept up their barrage, Lok dropped his bow and hefted his axe and shield, charging around the edge of the wall to meet the dragonkin charge. Cal grimaced in frustration—he’d been prepared to cast his spell from the magical lute, but it required a touch to work—but switched instead to another enchantment. This one would help Lok just as effectively, as well as helping him dish out more damage. The syllables spilled out from his mouth, triggering his familiar haste spell.
Lost in the magic, he didn’t hear Dana’s shout of warning, nor did he see the shadow from above until it was too late.
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