Shorus didn't like the creature that Kylmi was riding, it looked like a horse of some sort but it didn't smell like one. The Minotaur shivered when the creature spoke to Kylmi, the voice of the creature was more horrible then the scariest battle roar.
"Well, if things will go very bad with this weird horse, I'll just eat it" Thought Shorus to himself as they returned from the parley.

Shorus listened very carefully when Mundhir spoke out his plan, "I will provide diversion." said the Minotaur with confidence and looked quietly at his friend Hazim, Shorus trusted the big man to protect the others when he was away.

When the group arrived near the enemy camp, Shorus quietly exchanged few words with his friends and departed from the group. In complete darkness the Minotaur used his Infra-Vision to navigate around the perimeter of the Elven camp and positioned himself at the opposite side of the camp. Then as they agreed with Hazim, Shorus waited for the 5th star to appear in the sky before he acts.

The moment the star appeared, Shorus started to throw huge rocks towards the outer limit of the camp and to break trees and throw them in the same direction, trying to hit the guards tents. He bellowed ferociously and without hesitation neutralized half of the guards that came to check what's happening, letting the other half to run back to the camp and bring reinforcements, so they will leave the camp less guarded from the other side.
Shorus acted in complete darkness and never spoke, just bellowed, so unless the guards had Infra-Vision or really good lamps, they wouldn't know what kind of beast exactly is causing the trouble.
Shorus continued to make havoc and draw attention to himself and away from his friends on the opposite side of the camp, he hoped that this will give his friends enough time to handle the mad Elven Prince.

Aevah arched a brow, "Well... you learn something new every day. I wonder how my mother got hold of something like this. Though, you full elves are exceptionally long lived. I wonder how old my mother was."

She shrugged, "That's a question for some other time."

As he explained his reasons for leaving Aevah nodded, "I hear that the elves are traditionalists, they don't really like change or anything that goes against tradition. Honestly, though humans are crude... I'm glad I was raised among them. They learn a zeal for life that I don't think think the elves have because they live so long, humans have to cherish every moment because their lives are so short."

She sighed, "The moon is up. We should rest, I would like to be on the move again before first light."

~*~

As the night wore on Aevah slept uneasily, perhaps it was their trading of stories or maybe it was her vicinity to Kyrtaar allowing her to remember what she'd seen when she touched him, but her dreams were troubled. She dreamed of stars imploding into black holes, visions of teeth and hungry mouths lingering in the back of her mind. She dreamed of crumbling stone structures, blood stained streets filled with whispers and the hauntingly discordant song of those strange stars, movement in thick fog and twinkling stars peeking through like eyes watching every move... tendrils of mist like hands reaching for her skin. She woke with a start sometime before dawn... cold sweat covering her brow and those whispers still humming in her ears. She shivered and glanced at Kyrtaar, wondering if whatever shadows lurked around him were somehow rubbing off on her. She doubted it, more likely it was just the belated after affect of having been in his head and their discussion the night before.

She stood and packed away her bedroll onto the horse, after having actually look she'd discovered that there hadn't just been their weapons in the pack saddles of the horses. Small portions of dried foods and a bedroll were the helpful givings of whatever kind soldier had packed the horses for them. She glanced at Kyrtaar once more, wondering if he was awake.

"We should move soon, if we make good time we'll reach the outer edge of the forests before nightfall..."

The Mamluks had painstakingly crawled the five hundred yards between Baloor and the Mad Prince's encampment. The moon was high in the sky, and they had covered themselves in thick woollen blankets to hide the glows of their sabres and armour. The Elves were keen sighted, and anything so much as a flicker in the darkness would have alerted them to the impending danger. Mundhir's men however, were the best of the best - aside from the World Breakers - and they had fought with the Elves before.

Reaching the camp's outer perimeter, Mundhir's sergeants silently called for the hundred-strong force to hold. They would first congregate, ready their salvos, and then they would decimate.

Dozens of Elves were patrolling nearby in pairs, looking out over the darkness. They may have seen the Mamluks if they moved in one constant river of motion, but that was not how Mundhir's men did things. They crawled fifty yards at a time, then halted for some minutes, before continuing. This dampened the chance of a pair of keen Elven eyes noticing the shifting shadows of a surprise attack.

With practised skill, the Mamluks began to stand up, readying their composite bows. Usually, when fighting other humans, they would attack a camp with fire arrows for maximum damage and terror. The Elves were much more disciplined though, and they would use the fire arrows' loss of killing power to turn the fight against the Mamluks.

"DURANAR! EBLISTAN!" Roared the Mamluks suddenly.

The Elven sentries reacted with clinical professionalism, reaching for their bows, but it was too late. They were skewered from several angles by a dark cloud of near-invisible missiles. Some screamed, some retained their dignity. Either way, the camp was quickly alerted and war drums began to beat. Mundhir's men responded by sending a volley indiscriminately into the thickest part of the camp. The battle had begun.

Kyrtaar listened to Aevah's analysis of Elves versus Humans and silently agreed. He had come to mostly the same conclusions himself. When they went to sleep, the night terrors returned to Kyrtaar. He was walking across a field, an endless field. The horizon never moved, and there were no rolling hills to this earth. It was a flat grassy plain. As he silently walked, he saw a tree, and seeing no other options, approached. As he got closer and closer, the Earth below him started to cave in. It started as just the ground sucking at his feet, making walking harder and harder, but it became a literal pit as the very Earth itself tried to grab his soul. He ran to the tree and climbed it in desperation, but the Earth devoured the tree as well. Kyrtaar felt the pressure and heat of the young planet crushing and devouring him in a grim reminder that even the ground he stood on was a cosmological entity that longed for his soul.

Kyrtaar awoke several hours before Aevah, as he generally slept no more than 4 or 5 hours a night. He sat with his eyes closed, meditating on his dreams, and feeling for once, calm in the wash of the moon. When Aevah awoke, he would glance at her, and see the sweat beads on her forehead. When stirred and started packing, he did as well. He placed his bed roll in the side saddle, and took a drink of water from his canteen. He wrapped his cloak around his body, and equipped his sword and bow to his back, and mounted the horse. As they started the journey to the forest, Kyrtaar looked at Aevah again "Sleep well?" He asked, almost knowing from the distraught look on her face and sweat that she didn't. But if she lied and said yes, he wouldn't press her for anything.

Aevah frowned a bit at his question and sighed, "Well, it can't hurt to tell you since you already know I can see things about people I touch..."

She glanced over at him as they rode along she explained to him what she'd seen when she touched him and then hesitated before going a step further and deciding to fill him in on the other part of her... gift. "Sometimes, the Seeing Touch triggers Dreamwalking... or Astral Projection."

She shook her head, "I'm still figuring it out. All I know is that when I was outside my body when I fell in those tunnels I saw shadows around you... most dense around the book at your side... It is like it has it's own aura and it is feeding off of yours... Our discussion last night reminded me of what I'd seen and... Nightmares abound."

She shrugged, "I will be fine... So long as I don't make touching you a habit."

It was daylight when she finally placed her hand above her eyes to shade them as she looked into the distance, "Do you see that?"

She pointed, in the distance was the line of trees that began the line of the Uchfos forest.

"We're close..."

It took maybe another hour for them to reach the forest, thankfully the journey had been simple so far... No guards roaming the area that she could see anyway. Once they reached the trees she pulled the horse to a stop. It had almost been too easy so far, truth be told. She'd expected to run into some scouts at least but she'd yet to see any sign of even one.

"Once we get deeper in is when we'll start seeing the ravens... I stumbled across it last time and the Fae weren't really on high alert. Without Kylmie's help I doubt we'd make it all the way this time... Also, the horses won't carry us after a certain point... I guess something about Fae magic makes them nervous."

Kyrtaar listened to Aevah. As she described the visions she saw, the dreadful cosmos in all their horrific glory. The descriptions were mostly mild to some of the things Kyrtaar had seen in his nights tossing and turning. Kyrtaar looked up at the sun, but he felt nothing outwardly malicious from it currently. She mentioned his book, which made him look back at her with a quick head motion. "My book? My book is... strange." He said, looking down at it on his waist. It was something he rarely even thought of now, and the literal weight was no more than a physical pound, but the metaphysical weight on him and the promise that it was his soul to be taken was something he rarely gave thought to, as an only 200 year old elf.

When they reached the forest line, Kyrtaar would begin to feel a slight chill, but he didn't know if it was just the paranoia of something, or actual magical properties to the area. The shade of the tree top canopy fell on them, reducing the sun's direct glare on them, and obscuring the vision of the cosmos on Kyrtaar's doings, making him conversely, also feel a bit more comfortable in the area. He looked for the Ravens and Magpies and birds Kylmie spoke of, but saw almost none, rather, he saw a complete lack of natural animal life in the immediate area, and the horses quickly began to whiny loudly, and even rear up at a certain point.

Once the horse refused proceed, Kyrtaar would dismount, and take the canteen from the saddle bag, and sling it around his shoulder. He tied the horse to a tree as well, assuming they'd be able to make it back by nightfall, but was only marginally sure that it was even a possibility. Kyrtaar could feel the magic in the area, making the hair on his neck and arms stand up. "We're in the right area, thats for sure" He said, looking at Aevah, not certain if she was sensitive to the magic in the air.

As they began their trek on foot Kyrtaar spoke. "I never told you about the dreams, the visions. Or the whole truth about why I left home" He paused for a moment, to collect his thoughts. He continued. "I made a promise. A pact. I sold my soul. I asked for power. The power to make my will a reality. I wanted to learn things no one had known, or things people had forgotten. I couldn't wield a sword exceptionally well. I was no able to use a bow with anything above average capabilities. Nor was I able to cast even the most basic incantations. So I didn't look to the fae, or whatever lives beneath us. No, I turned to the stars." Kyrtaar's face was filled with passion as he spoke. He looked up at the sky as he said it, the blue poking through the green as the sky peeked in. "No one knows what lives in the sky. No one, but me. I asked the very stars themselves for power." Kyrtaar's eyes glowed green as he said this, and green vapor misted off his hands as he said this to accentuate this point. His hair was glowing and perfect, his face full of youthful vigor.

Kyrtaar turned to look at Aevah with his glowing eyes, his brow furrowed. "The stars wanted my soul. So what? So what! I'll live to see 800 I said! But I forgot. The stars blink and its been 1000 years. I left my home because they didn't understand the power I had!" Kyrtaar was ranting now, his face fully contorted with sudden anger and rage. "No one understood! I did what I had to do to stand out! To be different! I didn't want to waste away in those woods, No! Fishing, and hunting, and trapping animals. I wanted to learn. I had no friends. No loved ones. They shunned me, so I left." Kyrtaar's eyes faded to their normal earthly tones, the power fading from view. He appeared mortal again. His long blonde hair looked course, and there were no wrinkles on his face, but the age and passage of time was apparent. Small scars became visible on his hands and face and neck and anywhere they were on his body. Kyrtaar looked at his hands, and his book, and up to Aevah. "Thats what you saw. Thats what you heard and dreamed. Mere shadows of some of the things I've seen. You saw the pact I made, the promise of the stars to devour my soul. They haunt me. But I don't care, not for their thoughts. And this book? Its a contract. I can't open it, and I suspect if I did, I couldn't read it. Its a literal reminder every day of the bounty." Kyrtaar finished. He had been standing in place, shouting, gesturing. It was an out of character burst of emotion for someone generally more composed. He felt emotionally drained, as he had never shared those details with anyone.

Kyrtaar looked at Aevah, unsure if she would fear him, or trust him more. If she would follow or leave. He turned and walked deeper into the woods.

Aevah frowned as she listened to Kyrtaar, it was obvious how much of a hold this curse had on him... how unstable it was making him. She wondered silently if he'd make it to old age with the way the nightmares and the paranoia were chipping away at his sanity. She did not say so aloud, but she pitied him. She knew what it was like to crave something so desperately... She also knew what it was to be shunned by people who should love or care for you, but instead only feared you.

She tugged the tie out of the braid in her hair and then worked her fingers through it, worrying out the braid and it's tangles as she considered how to reply. She doubted he'd want pity, she didn't... and she doubted he'd take kindly to someone telling him the power hadn't been worth it. Instead she went with understanding, it was what she'd needed not so long ago... it was something she hadn't found until she'd escaped that tower with their little group.

"I know how it feels to be feared, to be shunned. I tried to help the villagers with my abilities, when I realized that what I was seeing was real... It did no good. They already knew I was different, that I saw things... warning them in advance only made them blame the happenings on me. A house burned down, it was my fault... a child grew ill, it was because I cursed him. No one understood that I could help what I saw, that I didn't make this things happen.... that they would have anyway if I'd seen them or not."

She shrugged, "Eventually, I just quit warning them but... by then the damage was done. I was an outsider, I wasn't welcome... So I left."

She smiled over at him tiredly, "It's funny... I would have done anything to get rid of my power while you were busy seeking it out. It's interesting to see it from another perspective."

She did not mention how unstable he'd seemed, and she wasn't afraid of him... by now she'd noticed the glowing eyes. It happened when he used his power and it seemed to happen whenever strong emotions boiled over. She'd just watch for that telltale sign and stay out of the way if need be. She was a survivalist, but not one to judge considering her past. If she hadn't realized what set off her gift she'd probably have gone mad herself some time ago.

She shivered as the sensation of magic grew stronger against her skin, to be honest she hadn't felt it much till now. "Yes... though, to be honest, it didn't quite feel THIS ominous the last time I was here."

That was when they ran into a barrier... if you could call it that. Thick vines, thorns, and branches had all grown together to form a sort of wall. It was far too tall to climb and looking either way you couldn't see the ends of it. Aevah was also sure that if you were to try to blow a hole through it that it would grow back together too quickly to do any good. It was Fae magic, they were protecting themselves... The good thing? She could hear a magpie.

She looked about and saw only one and so she recited the first line of the prose... So it went every time they met one of the barriers until she'd read off every line and could see the large tree in the glade only a short distance away. The sunlight here was bright and warm, tiny sprites no more than flashes of light flitted about and skimmed the top of the still waters of the pool to the right of the tree. The water was serene, the stones at the bottom glowed like gemstones.

"Don't drink that... I know enough of Fae lore to know that sometimes the waters can be enchanted, and usually with spells to make you forget... or remain staring at yourself forever... it depends on what you most desire. So stay away from it..."

She glanced back at the tree and fiddled with her necklace momentarily, "Perhaps you should remain outside... If you go in and do not request something of her she will want to punish you so you will have a reason to return and make a request anyway."

She took off her necklace, "Will you take this for now? It is one of few things important to me and I would rather she not request it... Though there is no guarantee leaving it here with you will stop her... Or that you staying out here won't keep her from knowing you're here... The risk is yours to take, I won't stop you if you want to follow."

Kyrtaar followed Aevah, feeling a bit drained emotionally from his outburst. She told her piece about her own powers, and Kyrtaar felt like they were kin. Not exactly close, per say, but that they had been cut from some of the same cloth. He followed her up to the "barrier", but didn't really register it as such. Where Aevah saw an obstacle that would regrow, Kyrtaar saw tinder, that he was willing to burn. But before he could do any such thing, Aevah recited the poetry the dryad had taught them to a magpie, and the vines and thickets and brambles and bushes would part, allowing them through.

And so it went, as they passed through the forest unimpeded. When they entered the glade, Kyrtaar felt a certain level of discomfort over take him. The sunlight felt... unnatural. Warped by the magic of the place. He didn't feel the cosmos bearing down on him, and it made him feel alone. Kyrtaar looked at the water, and felt something pull at him, but he overpowered the urges, and looked back at Aevah, who was handing him her necklace. He held out his hand, and took it from her. "I'll wait here. But if she doesn't cooperate, let me know. And we'll see whose powers are greater, the fae's or the infinite sky above." He said, matter-o-factly.

Aevah chuckled, "I'll be back soon..."

Aevah took a breath and moved forward before walking under the intricately woven exposed roots of the tree. As she moved deeper the roots began growing through the dripping stone of the damp cavern and still deeper it went. As glow worms became her only source of light she paused in front of a heavy wooden door over grown with vines... and did not get the chance to knock.

The door creaked open and Aevah hesitated before stepping into the magically lit room she remembered from so long ago. The norn was seated in front of her hearth, knitting... looking every bit like a simple old woman but that was just the way she was choosing to appear. Aevah knew what she could become and didn't relish the idea of seeing the green veined, cat eyed, sharp toothed creature that had spoken to her the last time. Aevah didn't have to let the woman know she was there.

"And so you've returned," said a voice as brittle as fall leaves crackling underfoot. The old woman, the norn, tugged her shawl tighter around frail shoulders and turned to face Aevah... cunning milky grey eyes unseeing and yet seeing everything. "What is it you wish? You do have a wish do you not? You aren't wasting my time again?"

Aevah already knew the woman knew the answer but if the Norn asked a question, you best answer. It was a game of sorts... "I do have a wish."

The old woman chuckled, "And not just for yourself... the wish you desire is for another... for many others."

Aevah frowned, "It is for myself... if I heal this man I gain freedom."

The woman smiled slyly, "And yet he also wishes to be healed... to finish this war... to stop the coming shadows. Such a large, desperately needed wish must come at a high price... yes?"

She hesitated but answered honestly, "Yes..."

"Good... Now you are catching on." The woman tapped at her narrow chin as she considered, "Speak your wish then..."

She hesitated, considering the way to phrase what she wanted to say... "Prince Mhundir has been stricken with a poison called ice venom... I wish him healed of the poison and the damage it has done him."

"Firstly, you will give up your gift of sight..."

Aevah frowned, why would the woman have cursed her with the gift and then take it away when she knew Aevah didn't want it... It didn't seem much of a price to pay but she kept it to herself. Still, the Norn noticed her discomfort, "Not a high enough price for you? I can up the stakes if you wish."

Aevah shook her head, "No... I accept."

The old woman laughed, "Good..."

Suddenly, searing pain scorched deeply behind Aevah's eyes... She felt like her eye sockets were full of lava. She cried out and struggled not to claw at them, suddenly realizing her mistake. The Norn hadn't meant her Second Sight... She'd meant her sight literally... her eye sight. Aevah's once icy blue eyes clouded over and she could feel tears of blood running down her face. When the pain eased... Aevah was blind.

The Norn laughed mockingly and the sound seemed to echo all around the room, "Now... for the rest. I am feeling generous... Instead of taking, I will give."

Aevah shivered and hesitated, "What do you mean?"

The Norn's chuckle slithered over her skin... "There are shelves behind you... On them are vials. You must choose one and take it with you."

Aevah bit her lip, "What are they?"

"Now where would be the fun in that? Go on now... choose."

Aevah turned, stumbling over her feet momentarily and reaching blindly in front of her. Her fingers brushed the wood of one of the shelves and she stumbled closer before feeling for the glass vials and grabbing a random one.

The Norn huffed, "No, not like that... Put it back and this time search for it... choose the one that calls you."

Aevah shook her head, the old woman was crazy but she did as she was told. She put her hand up and moved it along the shelf slowly... For a moment she felt silly until she felt something. A hesitation, a tingle in her palm. Maybe she was imagining it. She paused and slid her hand back in the direction she'd felt the odd sensation before feeling it again stronger this time... like a pull. Nervously, she picked up the vial and moved to open it.

"NO! ... No. Do not open it here... Only when it feels right. Now, we are done."

Wherever Mhundir was he'd feel the magic hit him, it would be painful... excruciating... the poison would flow like black sludge from his ears, nose, eyes, and mouth as the magic forced it out. Then, the power would burn through his veins, his organs, setting him on fire from inside as it healed the damage that had been done.

Aevah tucked the vial away and felt a gust of wind come at her from behind and an odd sense of motion without motion. For a moment she felt nauseous and then she heard the birds and felt the breeze... Somehow she was back outside. Now that she was in the sunlight she realized she could see vague shadows, like deeper dark in an already dark place, because she could see one standing before her... "Kyrtaar?"

The light, though she couldn't see it... hurt. She pressed her eyes closed and her head pounded momentarily... Auras burst behind her eyes like vivid splashes of color in blackness and when she hesitated she realized that if she focused she could tell what was what. The little flicker of blue was probably a butterfly, it was too small for a bird. The shadowed multicolored one was Kyrtaar... the golden light that reminded her of the sun that pulsed tall and wide was probably a tree. Maybe this wouldn't be completely miserable... if she could figure out what she was seeing auras of.

"Do you have anything I can use as a blindfold? The light hurts..." She grimaced, "Damn Norn..." She was being more upbeat than she felt, she had no idea how she was going to provide for herself, fight, sneak, steal, or much of anything else while blind. On top of that, she knew there was something about the vial she'd chosen... The Norn had saved a life... that was a big request and often called for a life in return. She'd gotten off too easily for the vial not to be something horrible.

Baalor Sewers,

Jazeer inspected the ancient stonework of his peoples' ancestral city. The architects of the time must have possessed skills long lost to the realm of men, for the gigantic structure of Baalor's sewer system was both immense and spectacular. Despite the grim use these long abandoned catacombs once offered to the topside inhabitants, their sheer complexity took the ailing Prince's breath from him.

"C'mon, human. You wantin' to be meetin' me master or what?" sneered Jakig.

The Prince smiled behind his mask, and nodded. The two walked on for some time, sloshing through foul smelling and discoloured water as they went. The filth squelching beneath their feet bothered neither; Jakig, because he was a Goblin, and crawling through grime was his livelihood. Jazeer, because he had ceased to care about most things.

"So these people in masks, like mine," Jazeer said after they paused at an intersection. "Who were they?"

Jakig shrugged his bony shoulders, "No idea. Just some arse hole humans lookin' to take a filthy Goblin's life."

Jazeer sighed. Whilst he admired the little green man for his casual attitude to life, the lack of wanting in the conversation department was proving a tiresome drain. "What did they wear?"

"Black. Black, with silver plates strapped to their chests," the Goblin spat, looking left and right in an attempt to gauge his surroundings. "Left, right, left, right, can never fucking remember. Urgh."

The Crown Prince thought about this. Eblistan's army did not rely on the colour of black, or masks, to convey its dominance in battle. Someone was topside, someone foreign, and it bothered him for reasons unknown. There were bound to be all kinds of strangers in the ruins of Baalor, seeking refuge from the war outside its crumbling walls. Perhaps the Goblin was right; just some cold bastards, seeking pleasure in the suffering of others.

"Said something 'bout there bein' no witnesses," hissed Jakig, "then they hammered in the stakes. I screamed the cunting life outa my lungs."

"Witnesses to what?" Jazeer said, curious now more than ever.

"Fuck if I know! why do you care anyways? You said they aint your people no more," Jakig shot back. "Anyways, it's left. I think. Yes, yes, left. Come on you saggy prick, let's get going before your nose falls off!"

---

The Elves advanced in groups of twelve; their movement shielded by the gathering mass of white-feathered arrows filling the moon-lit sky. They had learnt from earlier defeats, it had seemed, and were no longer willing to converge upon their enemy in one rigid formation.

Mundhir's Mamaluks, led by Captain Hazim, reacted dutifully to the changing situation. Their part in this battle was waning, and with steadfast professionalism they began to fall back. Arrows trailed after them, and they paused frequently to return the favour. They had lost few, as always, and the Elves were looking at three dozen burial mounds in the morning. More precious Elderborn blood, seeping into the earth.

---

War Room, Baalor.

"Brace the door!" Shouted one Mamaluk, fumbling for his sabre.

"They're getting in through the back," called another.

Mundhir lifted the steel mask covering the face of one of his would be assassins. Red eyes and gnashing teeth greeted him.

"What are you?" He wheezed, more than asked.

"Death," the assassin gurgled through bloodied teeth.

The Prince sighed, and then planted his sabre into the creature's chest. It let fly a screech, and then seemingly dissolved into nothingness. Like the rest had done.

The doors to the War Room shuddered violently; foreign tongues rose up in cheers of bloody murder. The handful of Mamaluks that had survived the assassins' onslaught threw their weight against them, hoping to keep the brittle wood from giving way.

A man screamed, and he fell through the doorway leading into the structure's back rooms. Mundhir turned, raising his sabre with trembling fingers. The Ice Venom had struck him with a severe fever, and his vision had started to fail along with his strength some hours previous. There was no worse time for it to have happened.

One of the Mamaluks at the doors left his brothers, and joined the Prince's side. "Get back, my Lord, I'll handle them," the soldier said.

Mundhir was not a fool though. "It's over, Basir, it's over," he groaned. "Our cause ends here, I end here."

Basir shook his head, "not until I'm in Duranar's arms."

Three assassins, dressed in tight black and glittering under steel shards, surged through the door. Basir crashed into one; the other two darted towards the Prince. He ran to meet them, and their sabres danced briefly. One of his attackers staggered backwards, reeling from Mundhir's famous speed; the other lunged, catching the Prince in his midsection.

Mundhir threw his face into the unfeeling and grizzly mask of the man who dared to harm him; there was an explosion of pain as his unprotected brow made impact with the smooth metal. Stumbling, the assassin tried to regain the initiative, but Mundhir's sabre had already found itself in his neck.

Basir fell, a small blade sticking from his eye; the third assassin screeched and charged the Prince.

Fire filled Mundhir's veins. A scorching pain, of the likes he had never felt, spread through every inch of his body. The assassin froze temporarily; unsure of what he was seeing. Mundhir screamed with a voice he never thought he owned, and with the sound of rushing water hammering his ears, his face exploded into a grim display of jetting black fluid.

Shorus didn't have much time, he saw the surviving Elves go back to the camp and return with reinforcements.
The Minotaur watched as the group of trained archers searched the darkness while going towards him to get into a firing range, there was no time to lose!
Shorus armed the simple traps that he has prepared while the Elves were gone, those were nothing more then bended tree branches with spikes sharpened out of the smaller branches on them with a simple vine used as a trigger and a natural pit that Shorus managed to cover with branches and leaves and put few spikes on it's bottom.

Shorus stood right behind the traps and roared in order to draw the Elve's attention towards himself, after which he got on all four to get his profile out of the Elves sight and crawled towards the stone line at the back, he tied some green branches to his tail and used this improvised broom to erase his footprints from the ground behind him.

As Shorus got away from the camp, he heard the sound of his traps triggering followed by Elven screams. Those were the spiked branches piercing into the Elves bodies, right between the plates of their armor. After a few minutes Shorus heard a blunt sound and a scream, some of the Elves have found his pit trap the hard way..
After making some distance between himself and the camp, Shorus stopped and looked back to see if he is followed, but he didn't see anyone, it seems the traps have done their job and beat the searching enthusiasm out of the Elves.
Shorus quietly stood up and smelled the air, no Elves were nearby, but he did have an Elven arrow stuck into his supply bag. "Good thing I have my armor on.." thought the Minotaur to himself as he examined the fine craftsmanship of the arrow's head and started to make his way towards the randevu point..

Tarwin stayed in position, he could see panic take hold of the elves as they began running back and forth, shouting and barking orders at each others as troops were redeployed to focus on the attacking soldiers. Eventually he spotted his moment of opportunity, the rear was open and no guards were posted, it was likely a panic given change of guard that hadn't worked out properly. He dashed into the encampment, staying low and making his way to a set of stacked creates, he ducked low in the cover and looked around.

The heart of the camp was alive with activity, different groups shuffling and hurrying around in formation. There were at least a dozen large tents and in the very centre was a bonfire, any one of the tents could contain his target. Tarwin moved to the closest tent, the one beside the creates he was using as cover, he poked his head under the canvas at the base of the tent to try and gather some idea as to what it might be. He saw many rows of weapon racks along with boxes full of armour, there didn't seem to be any guards inside and so he wriggled under the tent and stood to look at the armour in more detail. Examining a helmet he picked out he soon realised that this armour was indeed Elven, he soon realised that he'd stumbled across the supply tent.

Tarwin emerged from tent a little while later, garbed in basic elvish armour he hoped that given the manic atmosphere it would make a decent disguise. He glanced around the camp and set off towards another one of the tents, keeping his head down and avoiding the gaze of any elves that might question him or spot that he was almost a head shorter than most others in the camp.

She was still unsure whether this decision had been wise, she had never had to make such a choice... Should she consider it deserting if she was still following a Prince with the intent to serve him? All she knew for sure was that she refused to serve a glory hound like the OTHER brother she'd left behind unless she had no other choice... Currently, she had two. Either she could go to the Ruins of Baalor and hope that Mhundir would not turn away a soldier of his father after what an attack by his own men or she could go after Jazeer and try to protect him. She had packed a great many poultices and herbs, not really sure what they all were or if they would do him any good but she knew he would know them and perhaps could somehow use them to keep himself strong. Sometimes she regretted not having a mind for such things... She had a way with tactics and battle but remembering herbs and scholarly information, her mind failed her on such things. She had also packed enough food for the both of them and onward she had went.

She had not known tracking down a sickly prince would be so difficult, she was no scout but a fighter and though she could spot some things that were more obvious to the eye she lacked the knowledge and patience of someone who could do such things. After the first half of the day she'd given up on following a trail and had stuck to what she knew of Jazeer... His trail had went in the general direction of Baalor and if she were sickly and worried about a brother who'd possibly send someone to finish her off... She'd go to her other brother, the one who was also in a precarious standing. So, on she'd went until she'd finally seen the ruins and all had seemed fine until she'd gotten closer. She knew the sounds she heard were those of battle and still she pressed onward, what if Jazeer was in trouble? Into the ruins she'd went, on and on.

Dreha had drawn closer and closer to the noises of battle only to find herself in the midst of a camp under attack. There were several men attempting to break into what appeared to perhaps be the War Room and she could hear voices shouting from inside. Dreha advanced, this was Mhundir's camp and her loyalties lay with any royalty in danger. She dispatched two of the would be assailants before they realized they'd been flanked and then she bashed one aside with her shield while running another through. This cleared the way for her to enter the room, defending herself from attacks as she did so. She soon discovered a mess of chaos, in the center of which was Mhundir undergoing some kind of devilry and about to be run through himself. Dreha lunged forward, barely managing to knock the attacker's blade aside before it could make it into Mhundir's chest.

She finally got a good look at her foe then... strange red eyes and... what in Dunrar's name were these creatures? She blocked an attack after being momentarily shocked into a lack of movement and then knocked the blade outward with her shield as it came at her again. This time though, as she attempted another run through, her foe sidestepped and came at her with a frenzy of attacks. Dreha refused to be intimidated and looked at the creature, fairly unamused. It was slowing and though sweat was tickling down her back, she was sure she was less winded than her opponent. As the thing swung again she ducked and bashed her shield into his knee. There was a sickening crack as it's leg broke and it crumpled to the floor. She decapitated him and then turned, panting, to see if there were others as she positioned herself between Mhundir and any would be attackers.

Kylmi would be lying to admit that she wasn't a little disappointed with the entire discussion of their plan, it would seem that her former concerns over this lauded Queen were dismissed, seemingly placated by Mundhir's supposed glorification of being blessed. However Kylmi did not know his God and could not ascertain his confidence in willingly placing fate into the deity's blessing. It was no different a circumstance in mirroring aspects for the Elven Prince, these two individuals of royal, blue-blooded birth rite surrendered themselves over to some unforeseen higher will. Kylmi glanced up, briefly disturbed by these comparisons and how, once a upon a century, her family too had been swindled and devoted entirely to one God. But he was dead now, a sort of truth that these two would not know, possibly never, but it could not be trusted within the slightest.

Her peridot gaze slid over Hazim and Tarwin both when they spoke respectively; they would have to remain careful of these two, they who supported the overall execution - no slaughter - of these elven peoples. Their plans of interrogation would fall through should they come upon the insane ruler before her and her only other supporters, Frelseren and Shorus. Her grasp within Bone's mane tightened, cinched around the threads as he chuffed and bared teeth at the mortals around them, of course she could only put her trust into true, amazing beasts as they, the others couldn't, would not be trusted. Kylmi nodded silently to her companions and watched as the nomadic warrior ushered his mount into a gallop, veering off to the flank, she bid simple wishes to the nature around them as the grass being trampled beneath their bony hooves stilled and quieted with the cusp of battle ringing their hearts.

Bones and his woodland mount hesitated momentarily, green eyes flashing, resting calmly upon Mundhir before the slight shake of her antler crown bid her away, artfully tarnished stilettos boring into the Kelpie's heaving flanks before they too rode off with a speed unmatched by common equines. They followed upon Tarwin's treads before veering away upon a different course, splitting the procession partially by venturing into the surrounding thickets. Kylmi initially decided that her best usage would be hidden aback from the focal point of their assault, utilizing her powers whilst hiding upon the main line of their offensive unit in the blanket of darkness. The Nymph stilled Bones, dismounted and patted his thick neck as they glanced up towards the over bearing sun, the gleaming star slowly descending as they waited.

---

When the battle sounded, Kylmi's eyes immediately adopted a phosphorous glow, gleaming within moonlight and bearing a silver sheen akin to Bone's stare as they witnessed the beginning ascension of this nearly one-sided confrontation. Forging a temporary bond, the two creatures of exotic, far away lands and myths began to coexist in their glowing eyes, seeing what the other saw and utilizing Bone's keen sight as means to peer far and deep into the encampment. Kylmi's fingers flexed as Mundhir's impressive soldiers began their crawl, she bid the grasses and surrounding flora to become rigid and curl to cloak their precise movements, the thicket around her groaned and bent to smother the gleam of her armour as she initiated her manipulation of the ground and nature around them. She had not done so in such a long time, not in such vast quantities, and cruel intentions marred the plants in bruises and thorns as she lifted her arms and thus started the snaking of vines out from the elaborate knot in her hair, permitting the threads to wave down her frame as they slithered across the ground in serpentine patterns. Trees whispered somewhere in the far beyond, yielding to the stench of magic that was Kylmi's unique signature.

Arrows blotted the sky and Kylmi watched, still not attacking but preparing the wrath of the wood around her with vines crusted in thorns and poisonous flowers that bloomed violet in the moonlight. Bones grew impatient, throwing his head and rattling the bones and reeds woven within and screeching with the call of something feral and hungry, the elves below would know, feel their fury and the will of nature that was old and never forgiving, a merciless pounding galloped away deep inside as the desires of her Fernium blood sung with a haunting melody of vengeance. Her sweltering heart was being swelled with the emotions of fear and pain in the battle below, cloaking over her as she mounted upon Bones once more and descended into battle. She veered through the lines with his agility, weaving between bolstering Mamalukes as they roared with a loyal righteousness of their prince and worships. Kylmi lifted her arm, extended her clawed digits as the tines upon her wrist began to swell and grow, sharpening into a sword forged of ebonette bark that pulsed in tempo with her erratic heart beating betwixt her ribs.

But the two weren't the only ones gifted with a peculiar sight in the night, Bones' stare swung around to the left with Kylmi's as fletching whistled upon a lucky gale of wind, piercing deep and purposely into Kylmi's bare shoulder with a dark shaft protruding from her rounded joint. She jerked with the hit, her lips parting on a screech of agony as another grazed on past her cheek and split the skin to will a tearful track of evergreen blood to leak across her thin jaw. Her silver lined eyes flashed with the impulse of power as vines wreathed around her assailants poising to strike her again, cruelly sealing the two elven warriors in coffins of thorns and poison; venom seeping slow and deadly into their wounds as she clenched her fist and silenced their wails of anguish. She balanced upon Bones' spine for a moment before leaping off, hitting the ground as the Kelpie turned and charged at the enemy exchanging volley with Hazim's retreating procession, his tail whipping and lashing with his agitation and thirst. She ignored the crunch of bone and armour, tried to breathe on past the smells of battle and death permeating the air as she gripped the arrow making her muscles burn with pain. With a cry she tore the shaft free, her blood trickling down to coat across her arm still forged into a nature esque weapon.

Her inexperience with recent battle left her prone to such injury, she knew this would happen and should she survive this, she would have to train hard to ensure that she would even survive long enough to see peace returned to these lands. The Nymph panted around her pain and pressed her palm to the wound, sealing it shut temporarily with a wrap of leaves before she whistled for Bones' and ran across the battlefield. She saw Tarwin, the flash of his red blade the only way she could pinpoint him sneaking in the camp from the exposed rear, she clenched her felidae teeth and searched for her Frelseren, only slightly worried when she couldn't find him among the swathes of elf and man.

Unfortunately there was little time for her, Kylmi ran with Bones, using vines to snare and strangle the elves before them, holstering them as Bones sunk his blunt teeth and fangs into their throats and crushed their incredible frames of height beneath his bleached bone hooves. She did not like killing, that much was evident in the way her eyes would waver with every occurrence a soul bled out with the light of their shining eyes, but she had a point to follow and a plan that was dependent on her part in it. So the Nymph bore her discomfort and continued onward with Bones, the Kelpie using his senses to scope out their path as they soon came upon Shorus. He appeared to be the only one present, but Kylmi was grateful for that small blessing as she flashed a fanged smile and used the thickets around them to keep themselves hidden, more so him and Bones for their gargantuan sizes.

"I saw Tarwin sneaking into the camp," Kylmi muttered, not surprised that the nomad had gone off on his own impulses again. After all he had done the same within the dank underground of the dungeons. "I don't know where Frelseren went but Hazim and the rest are beginning to fall back." She gestured vaguely with her opposite hand not festooned with bark and thorns. "I can use my vines and magic to capture the Mad Prince but I'm going to need you and Bones to protect me," Kylmi uttered, nodding to her Kelpie mount snorting in disdain at the minotaur, baring blunt teeth now stained with elven taint and blood.

"It's not the best plan, but we can capture him at least and try to get what information we can, I don't care what happens after that - let the men have their revenge."

When Aevah left, Kyrtaar sat with his back against a tree watching the sprites fluttering about in random patterns. He saw some touch, and some floating on the water. His eyes flicked back and forth, tracking their movements. He wondered what they thought of him, although it made no matter. If they thought of him the way Aevah had thought of the stars before Kyrtaar's revelation of sentience. Maybe they saw him and were afraid, maybe they saw him and were in awe. Maybe they didn't register him at all.

Kyrtaar sat peacefully meditating on what had been and what he had done previously, waiting for Aevah. Even though the sunlight felt too direct, too warm for where they were, Kyrtaar was starting to feel comfortable. He had power, and no fear of the stars boring into his mind. Kyrtaar heard his name. Aevah had made it to the surface without a sound. He stood up, and walked over to her. Dry blood was scabbing on her face from the tears that ran from her eyes. When she blinked Kyrtaar saw her milky white eyes. "Come here." He said. He tore a strip off the bottom of his already tattered cloak, and tore it again to make two pieces.

Kyrtaar took his canteen, and removed the lid, and poured a bit of water on the first strip, and stepped towards Aevah. "Let me help you." He said, reaching forward, and dabbing at her face to get the blood off. "You're a bit bloody." He said. From the skin contact, Aevah would not feel fear, or the sun burrowing in her mind. She would not see a black hole devouring the galaxy, or hear the sounds of asteroids colliding into each other over and over and over and over again, an awful clash of the giants with no rhyme or reason that drove all rhyme or reason from your mind. Aevah would feel warmth. She would feel Kyrtaar's sun warming the skin, the first time he felt power, the first time he felt his gift. Before the stars became malignant tumors in the sky. She would feel Kyrtaar's genuine affection for the Half-Elf girl, someone he considered a friend. A rare shred of positive energy being exuded from Kyrtaar, a shining light in the black of night.

When he was done with helping her clean, he took the second stripe, and helped tie it around her eyes, and then would help Aevah put her necklace back on. If at any time, Aevah wanted him to stop, he would take no offense to the actions, and would cease until asked for help. When Aevah was situated, Kyrtaar spoke. "I think I'm going to speak with the norn." He said, wishing to see her for himself. Kyrtaar removed his sword, placing it against a tree before proceeding into the dark hole to the norn lair. He descended into the dark hole, always keeping a hand on the wall to give him a perception of the depth he was going to.

Kyrtaar was beginning to wonder if he would ever reach the bottom when he abruptly walked into a door. He reached out, and grabbed the handle, and pushed it open. Inside was a young woman, no older than 18. She was performing scrimshaw on a human skull. She looked up at Kyrtaar. "Yes?" she asked. "What can I do for you, Elf?" She finished. Her voice was neither male or female, it was an androgynous mix of genders. Kyrtaar looked at her for a moment, deciding it was best no to dwell on her appearance. "I wish for more power. I wish for Immortality"

The young woman's eye brow raised. "My, such an ambitious wish. Very well. I can grant this wish, but the price will be steep. First, the pact will be made on your flesh, and it will be excruciating. Second, I will take the joy from your life. Third, your firstborn belongs to me. Do we have a deal?" Kyrtaar looked at the woman for a moment. He had pledged his soul to the stars, and was now about to pledge something that wasn't his to give, to rescind on his end of the bargain. A great trickery, an awful cowardly act to escape from his side of the promise. "I accept."

Kyrtaar's flesh began to burn. He dropped to a knee, in an agonizing yell. He bit down hard, and clenched his eyes shut, tears rolling down his cheeks. On his arms, and chest, legs, and abs, marks began to appear. Circles and strange markings seared into his skin, as magical tattoos were branded onto his body. The tattoos were slowly spreading up and down his body to slowly create a mixed patch work of skin and green magical ink. Suddenly the pain stopped, and his hands were shaking as he expected more pain. He looked at his hands and arms to see the network of runes that ran up his body. He looked up at the norn. "Next, you will drink the water from outside, then the deal will be complete. And remember, Kyrtaar. You must bring me your firstborn, or all you have will crumble to ash." She said. Kyrtaar blinked, and he was outside.

He quickly walked over to the pool, and dropped to his knees. He leaned forward, looking at his reflection. The strange runes were on his neck, chin, and ran up his cheeks. He would be willing to bet that his entire body had the contract written in green. He looked down, and saw his book was still on his hip. The deal with the stars still stood. But he had to finish this deal. Kyrtaar cupped his hands, and dipped them in the pool, and brought the cool, refreshing water to his lips, drinking it in.

Kyrtaar would never forget the pain. It was like he had drank molten lead. The water burned his throat, causing him to reach up, clutching it. It scaled his insides, and leaked out his nose. Within seconds the pain was gone, but with it, were his senses of smell, and taste. Additionally, he could not see colors. He saw drab black and whites and shades of grey. Kyrtaar stood up slowly, shaking again, trying to force the experience from his mind. The norn had not meant his literal joy, but had taken from him a way to enjoy food, drink. Kyrtaar didn't know it yet, but every time he would hear music, he would hear instruments out of tune, breaking.

But these were small prices to pay for power, an enticing idea Kyrtaar would always be chasing. He turned to Aevah, and walked towards her. His voice was hoarse from the ordeal. "Are you ready?" He asked. His multicolored aura would likely now be heavily influenced by the fae, likely more vibrant, with the shadows of the cosmos ever clinging to his sides.

The Elf swung his sword at Hazim in a scything motion. A former World Breaker, and a great warrior with few equals, he instinctively ducked the attack and sunk to his knees; the cold and refined Elven steel brushed across the top of his bronze helm. The Elf had little time to correct his over confidence, and Hazim sprung a counter offensive in the form of a whirling sabre storm.

The Elderborn were immortal; they lived for thousands of years, and such time had allowed them to hone their skills. Each one of the Mad Prince's soldiers was a legendary fighter in their own right, and unlike Men, they were without flaw. Reason drove the engine in their minds, not passion or love of emotion. Hazim's attacks missed the nimble being, who moved as if a fish through water.

"Yield," hissed the Elf, shortly after catching the large Eblistani in the chin with the elaborate pommel of his ancestral sword.

Hazim stumbled backwards, seeing stars. Blood matted his curly black beard. "You first, scum," he mumbled.

The Elf sighed, and renewed his attack. Hazim matched him, blow for blow and for a moment both warriors seemed on equal footing.

Though whilst Elves were without flaw and pure of mind, they lacked Man's recklessness. Hazim threw himself at his smaller, wiry opponent, taking them both down in a clatter of armour and lost weapons. With his large meaty hands, Hazim throttled the Elf, driving his fingers into the poor creature's neck with blinded malice.

"Die, die, die!" he screamed, as if willing the Elf to simply cease existing.

It was not so; Man's recklessness had drawbacks, and suddenly Hazim felt the strength in his arms waning. A wet feeling quickly emerged in his midsection, and he looked down himself with a grimace. The Elf's sword was half submerged in his lower side, having found itself between two plates of ornate bronze.

The Elf chuckled hoarsely, "you vermin are all the same; stupid, emotional and blind to your own folly."

Hazim tried to utter back a curse, but a carriage of blood erupted from his lips, spattering the Elf's face.

"Duaranar! Duranar! Duranar!" cried the Mamaluks, mixing their ranks with the Elven vanguard.

Their organised retreat had not lasted long, for the Elves had made quick the distance. Not appreciating the thought of being shot in the back by the refined archery of the Elderborn, Hazim had ordered his men to turn and fight, and now a hundred of Mundhir's best shed their life blood in earnest against the Mad Prince's overwhelming tide.

---

A flash of light, followed swiftly by the stomach grinding roar of a thunder clap.

Mundhir gasped, and immediately winced as his eyes were overcome by the bright white of his surrounds.

"What?" He managed weakly; his words echoed from walls unseen and returned to him ten times their original volume. He clasped his ears, twisting and turning in agony as his ear drums braced against the incessant and maddening assault.

"So," said a voice, harsh as iron, "you have come, my Champion."

Mundhir knew that voice as if it were his father's. He was having another Righteous Vision, and once more Duranar had come to grace him with his infinite wisdom.

"My highest lord," Mundhir moaned, struggling to his feet as his stomach lurched. "What- where am I?"

"Open your eyes, and you will see, my Son," the voice replied; no echoes resonated.

Mundhir's eyes struggled to withstand the brightness of his surroundings, but he focused hard, fighting against his natural desire to close them. And then, as if a thousand brushes had descended on a blank canvas at once, he saw a large grassy field. The sounds of a faraway battle quickly followed the sharpening image before him, and for a moment a spell of dizziness threatened to knock him from his feet.

As if being willed into existence from thin air, shapes started to emerge on the field. Warriors, Elves and Men, locked in deadly battle. He looked around, for a moment terrified he had woken up outside Baalor in the thick of Hazim's mission, and was about to be impaled by the Man Prince's men.

"My Lord!" yelled one of the many figures, making for Mundhir; he looked at the man, and knew him not, for he wore a foreign attire.

"Me?" Mundhir asked stupidly, completely lost in the confusion of it all.

"What is it?" Shouted a second voice - that same voice - Duranar's voice.

With a gasp, Mundhir turned and his heart shuddered with what he saw with such clarity. He immediately fell to his knees before a large armoured figure - a man no less - clad in thick steel plates and holding the legendary standard of the World Breakers Clan of Northern Olcra. Mundhir knew the image well, for it was enshrined in the holiest of holy temples within Eblistan's walls. Only one man had ever carried it, and that man was Ebli Khan.

"King Thrandelmir is threatening our right flank, if we do not react, his Glade Watchers will roll us like a carpet," said the original man Mundhir had seen running towards him.

The large figure did not reply right away, but instead angled his armoured head off towards the east. For several minutes he stared, and Mundhir's courage faltered.

"Release me from this madness," he pleaded. "I know not what you want."

The armoured figure ignored him, and instead looked back at the smaller man. "Assemble my troop; the Elves are wise to push us where they have, for we have oversold ourselves on that front. Not enough reserves... curse their hubris."

Mundhir attempted to make himself heard again, but suddenly the whirling image of bloody battle changed and he found himself at what he presumed was the rear of the Elven lines.

An Elf of impossible years, whose face had wrinkled with a life of innumerable eons, was gripping a kinsmen on the shoulders. Both looked regal, and were dressed in the finest stately gowns of Nillanor. Mundhir knew them immediately.

"You will return to Our City, and ensure the safety of our people," said King Thrandelmir, smiling softly at Thrandel. The young Prince bit back a tear; his father slapped him suddenly. "We are the Elderborn, we do not give in to sorrow," he snapped.

"But father," Thrandel pleaded, "we cannot win here. The Olcrans are slaughtering the Dwarven flank, and if we do not vacate the-"

"Then we will die, I will die," said King Thrandelmir, but with little urgency or irritation. "Our peoples must live on. Take them east, to the realms of the Gnomes, of our Woodland kin, and our Night Kissed brothers across the sea if needs be. You are King now, go with the graces of everything good in this world; the future freedoms of Eulona depend upon it."

Thrandel's lips trembled slightly, but he nodded and turned to leave.

Mundhir recoiled as the landscape shifted again, and there he saw an event unfolding that only the most dedicated Eblistani bards knew mere pieces of.

King Thrandelmir and Ebli Khan squared off in the midst of the battle; Olcran strength against Elven vitality.

Though, if the bards were right in what they knew, Ebli Khan won this fight. And as if trigged by his waking thoughts, the background shifted once more; Mundhir emptied his stomach onto the floor, but noted it fell through the grass as if the ground was made of air.

"Father!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Thrandel, upon a white horse of brilliant heritage, galloped towards Ebli Khan, as the armoured giant repeatedly hacked at the bloodied corpse of the deceased King of Nillanor. The Elven Prince lowered his lance, and had the Khan not been the legendary warrior that he was, he may not have seen the attack in a time.

What Mundhir saw next sickened the deepest depths of his soul. In an instant, his life had become a lie; his visions, heresy.

Then everything went black, and he felt himself falling.

The kidnapping of the mad Prince (in co-authoring with Rockette) - Part I:

---

Shorus silently walked through the darkness, trusting his Infra-Vision and his acute hearing and sense of smell to lead him in the right direction, navigation was never a problem for him.
Suddenly the Minotaur heard a familiar voice, he turned his head and saw Kylmi. The beautiful Nymph was in her battle armor, fighting off the Elves. Shorus hurried towards her, but he quickly found out she doesn't need any help.
"Don't worry about the insectoid, he can take care of himself. As about the nomad, he will do what he wants anyway, so no point in telling him what to do." answered the Minotaur quickly to the Nymph's request about their companions.
"The mad Prince's tent is that one, Shorus can smell him from here!" continued the Minotaur as he pointed towards a big tent not far from the place they were standing, few well armed guards were guarding the entrance to the tent.
"Shorus and Kylmi will go in fast from the flank, squash the guards and throw the mad Prince on the back of Kylmi's weird horse, after that Kylmi will immediately leave together with the mad Prince. She needs to go around the Elven front towards Hazim, Shorus will cover her escape and join her later." explained Shorus.
" If Kylmi can create a wall of thorns between us and the Elves when she leaves then it will help, if not then Shorus will show those long-livers the sharp side of his axes ! he added.
After this short conversation the Minotaur immediately charged. This time he didn't do his famous battle roar and almost manage to catch the guards near the tent by surprise as he jumped at them out of the shadows. The sound of metal bashing against metal filled the air as Shorus's axes crossed with the Elven blades, one of the guards was already lying on the ground dead, Shorus just squashed him when he charged. The other guards were fiercely attacking the Minotaur, but Shorus was very experienced in melee combat and killing him was not so easy..

[Ok , Rockette your turn to write. If you want we can do this in several parts and not just one :) .. ]

Shorus attacking the guards at the tent (except Shorus is in a full body armor and holding 2 axes instead of clubs):

She could hear the water as Kyrtaar poured it and thought that perhaps he was taking a drink until he stepped forward. The sensation of the damp cloth was blessedly cool against the blazing pain that seemed to still radiate, a ghost of the agony before. Then, fingers brushed her skin and she was suddenly disoriented when she found herself no longer blind and seeing herself from his eyes. It was the first time in Aevah's life, since she'd made the mistake of walking into the Norn's lair, that skin contact did not bring something deeply discomforting to suffocate her mind. Instead, she was given a pleasant peak into his mind... a quick glimpse of what she could tell was a rare serene moment. She could feel his affection and that was something altogether new for her as well, it was odd seeing herself through someone else's eyes and feeling someone else's emotions. Still, it made her smile despite the ache in her eyes and just like that she was back in her own head and blind once more.

"Thank you..." she murmured, somewhat absorbed in readjusting to feeling her own emotions. She felt flustered, bashful? It didn't happen to her often but she wasn't used to having anyone care about her. Friends were rare in the world of thieves and street rats, you were only ever friends with someone you could use. It had been a lonely life, but living that way had kept her from having many occasions where she risked skin to skin contact, and it had helped her avoid her powers.

Speaking of powers... It was odd, the magic Kyrtaar had possessed had seemed so full of malice and so had the images she'd seen the first time she'd touched him but now she saw what it had been like when it was new. She wondered what had caused it to go so dark... so hungry? Perhaps his own lust for power had changed it. Maybe having a friend around would be good for both of them, it might even pull some more of that positive light out of him in the long run.

As he put the other strip around her eyes and the necklace back around her neck Aevah sucked a breath in through her teeth, she barely heard Kyrtaar excuse himself to speak to the Norn. If she had, maybe she would have stopped him. As it was, she was trapped in her own head which was now throbbing as though being beaten by a smith's anvil. Images burst behind her eyes, pulsed to life and she realized she was seeing... It wasn't quite the same as seeing with her eyes, everything was playing like seeing a dream.

She could see Mhundir fall, struck by magic that would heal him. She saw a woman enter to defend him against unknown attacker's whose auras were... dull... almost fogged like they were hidden from her. She saw Kyrtaar talking to the Norn, saw what he would ask but whisked away on the images too soon to see what the price would be. She could see Kylmie and Shorus and Tarwin. She could see the mad prince and his rage.... She winced, unable to shut them out by closing her eyes. She was already smothered in the darkness of being blind, nothing could stop the images racing through her head until Kyrtaar's voice broke through the visions and she shuddered as if coming awake. "Yes... I'm ready."

She could see the horses but she wasn't sure if maybe there were rocks or the like. "Maybe I should get a walking stick... Can you help me to the horses? I promise not to be quite so invalid once I'm on... I can still see your aura in my head like a lamp, I can follow you."

She gave a sheepish smile, "This will take some getting used to..."

For now she would keep the knowledge of his request a secret, after all... it hadn't been her request to see. She hadn't really meant to spy and she wondered a moment what had caused it. An after effect of touching Kyrtaar? No, it hadn't happened until he'd put the necklace back on her.

The void was black and unfeeling. Not cold, nor heat, reached him. His mind was likewise; everything was numb.

"What have I done?" he uttered. Tears streaked his face. "How could I hav- how could WE have been so blind?"

Some white fog stirred suddenly in the darkness, swirling around him. A chuckle reverberated from far off, and then right next to him - before retreating to a distance of miles. Mundhir sighed, as one would do were they facing the inevitable.

"Do not fret, my son," the voice said, pausing to release another unworldly cackle. "You did admirably."

As if conjured by the Prince's mind, the hulking armoured giant of Ebli Khan slowly materialised in front of him. Mundhir trembled at the sight, though not out of fear, but repulsion.

"You are not Ebli Khan," he said.

Ebli let forth a rupturing orchestra of laughs. As if many mouths occupied his one. "Oh, oh, but my son," he roared, "you doubt me even now?"

"What are you?"

"Ebli Khan, son of Eblan Khan of the World Breakers Clan, of course," Ebli replied, taking on solid form.

Overlapping plates of ornate steel mounted the giant like an exoskeleton. His helm was of a terrible design, fashioned in the form of a screeching hawk. The red of his banner fluttered in a wind that drew no breeze.

Mundhir stood to his feet, feeling weightless and full of vigour - though lacking will. "Show me your face."

Ebli sighed, but then shrugged. "Of course, my son. Of course."

The helmet was not removed, but rather, it simply ceased to exist. The face that greeted the Prince was a soulless one; red eyes, and fangs, gazed at him menacingly.

Mundhir shook his head in disgust, "was you always this way?"

Ebli nodded, "yes, my son."

"I am no son of yours, demon spawn," shot back Mundhir, growing angry despite the impossibility of his situation.

The giant laughed once more, clutching his sides in some terrible amusement. "Wrong! Wrong, little Princleing, so ignorant you are! I knew your mother well."

"THAT IS A LIE!" Mundhir shouted, and he ran forwards to tackle Ebli, but the hulking mass of steel vanished suddenly, only to reappear on his right.

"No lie, my son," Ebli chuckled. His evil smile growing wild. "It was wrong of your grandfather to break the line of succession; he disrupted my plans. My mistress's plans."

Mundhir scoffed, half in disbelief, half in rage. "You mean to tell me Duranar is a lie too?" he spat, rounding on Ebli for another assault.

"A half lie, my son," Ebli grinned. "He was a good God, always banging on about unity and peace; it was easy to twist his words into weapons of war."

"What do you mean?" Mundhir asked, waiting for the giant to drop his guard long enough for him to pounce.

"North Olcra came to Eulona believing they were bringing Duranar's love to savages; in truth, they were just slaughtering his many, many children." Ebli stopped to stroke the pale, bare flesh of his chin. "He is dead, my son, he died the death of a weakling; despite his power, he was felled by lesser beings."

Mundhir's eyes widened. Surely this was all lies? An attempt to trick him into despair? He recalled his dreams however, and with dread realisation, remembered that Duranar's and Ebli's voices were one in the same. He had been tricked, like so many others it seemed.

"He was unwilling to take the world as his own, my son, and so others took it for him; they killed him, stole his power, and now he is no more," Ebli explained, taking great pride in his words. "He would not interfere with the mortal realm, and so it was oh so very easy to twist his given beliefs into tools of war. Yes. Very easy."

"Enough," Mundhir sneered, "fight me, let this nightmare end."

Ebli grinned even wider. "Yes, my son, yes! Embrace the anger, and the doom."

"The only thing I will embrace, is your neck as I snap it demon, now fight me," Mundhir pressed, advancing on the giant with no weapon, and no prospect of victory.

"Soon, my son, soon," Ebli grinned. "My mistress had deemed you Her Chosen, since before I even walked this earth. Her power is infinite, you see, and her will cannot be denied."

As Mundhir lost his patience, and gained his courage, he ran at the giant once more.

A blinding light seared his eyes, and he stumbled backwards; Ebli cursed, a thunderclap shook the void.

Aevah said she could see Kyrtaars aura, and that was good enough for him. He turned to leave with her. "Follow me" he said, croaking, his throat still hurting. He was reluctant to talk. As they proceeded to leave, Kyrtaar found a branch that would serve as a walking stick. He picked it up. "Aevah, I found a stick" He said, turning around and placing it in her hands. Then he would continue, leading her to the horses. Kyrtaar took another drink of water, and helped Aevah mount the horse, before climbing onto his own. He reached down, taking the reins of Aevah's horse, and started the journey back to Mundir and the group.

Once they were passing the edge of the forest, Kyrtaar gave the reins back to Aevah, on the plains he wouldn't worry about her walking into any obstacles. He had gathered a few branches to build a fire with when they set up camp over night. "I figure we can set up camp once the sun starts to set, and if we leave at dawn, we should be back at the fort by midday. Or we can ride through the night and arrive at dawn" He said, offering her both options. He turned to look at the blind half elven girl. "Are you alright? You know, with everything. You gave up a lot. All for a man you barely know." Kyrtaar paused, feeling seem deeply embedded bitterness welling up. "One of those children of the earth. They come bawling into the world, crying, screaming their lungs out in terror. Then they parade around like they're some gift. Causing wars, destroying the forests. and just like that. One blink. They're crying, scared that they're leaving. Humans." he finished, rolling his eyes. Although the wars between Humans and everything else with a pulse had went on for millennia, Kyrtaar's centuries of life had seen plenty of it.

Kyrtaar felt the rage simmering down, and took a deep breath. What did it matter to him now, he had all the time in the world to watch the empires of mice and men crumble into ruin.