Tobias took a long pull of the drink in front of him. It tasted like a sweaty pig smelled, but the rogue figured a few mugs of it would do the trick.

His plan to drink himself into a stupor was interrupted early on, however, when the groggy-looking sorcerer pulled up a seat next to him. "Oh, hey, sleeping beauty. Have a nice nap?"

The wizard wanted to know what had transpired, and Tobias rubbed his brow with a sigh. "Let's see, what'd you miss. Well, you may or may not have seen Sana go skullfuck crazy, and I'm being literal about that - she managed to get one of those guys to tell her where their camp was, then murdered him. Her, Fiona, the elf, the goblin, and the orc-thing went off to go find more people to kill, I told them off and stayed here. Baldy sided with me and carried you in here, he and the corpse are out burying dead bodies, I think. Big Brut Pally Hugh's around here somewhere, and the demon's... actually, I don't really know where the demon is." The rogue wrung his hands nervously. "That's not what you want, is it? Want to keep track of the... demons..." he trailed off.

The rogue regarded the wizard and shrugged. "Well, in any case, those guys should be back by tomorrow, doubtless knee-deep in blood. Not sure what's gonna happen then, but hey, at least we got a few quiet hours without any stabbings."

Lob now found himself staring down three other muzzles, he rose up to his full height to try and intimidate the beasts into cowing. Unfortunately the chains left them nowhere to run so they were effectively cornered animals, the most dangerous kind. He began to laugh as one of the songs the bard tried to teach him came to mind.

"Nicknack!"
The great club came down on the one on the far left as a hound leapt on his arrow skewed arm.
"Paddywhack!"
He struck the fletching of the arrow, driving the shaft through his healed hole in his limb into the roof of the mongrels mouth.
"Give a dog a bone!"
Another beast began to flank him and bit at the back of his calf and had a deathgrip on it with his backswing that let the teeth tear more of his flesh than the bite alone would do.

The glow coming from within Vaeri faded almost immediately after she finished off her foes. Divine Might, while a powerful spell, did not last long and she could only maintain it for about a minute as it stood. For several seconds, she just stood there catching her breath and watching. Fiona was leaning against a tree, her right arm torn and bloodied; Sana was crying over a dead man's body. The green dog-man had vanished into the forest before the fighting began in earnest and Drizzak was facing a mysterious woman who wielded two silver swords. Mostly confident that there wouldn't be any more combat in the nearby future, she shoves her axe back into her backpack, freeing up both hands to help with freeing the former captives and anything else she may need them for. Slowly, Vaeri limped over to her robe and picked it up off the ground. She placed her left hand on her thigh and healed up her leg before she walked over to Fiona.

"Allow me to heal your wounds," Vaeri said to Fiona, her right hand glowing gold. "I know you are about to say that I need it more, but I can't heal much more today. It would be better to get you back into top condition than to partially mitigate the damage I received. I'll be fine." If Fiona accepted the healing, then Fiona would fix her arm quickly, and still turned it down, well at least she tried. Maybe Lob or Drizzak would need the magic more. "So..." what was her name again? Scarlet? No, that was her keyword that was connected to, "Fiona. You appear to have be rather skilled with the blade despite being so young, who did you learn from?" Now probably was not the time for small talk, but Vaeri preferred it to waiting in silence on a battlefield with a complete stranger.

Hugh was completely unsure of why the men he had killed were suddenly mutilated, but he knew the memory it had caused him to relive. He knew it all too well.

His fear began to subside as he felt the soft hands of Sana bringing him closer to her. He felt relaxed, as he closed his eyes, exhausted from everything. The day had started out so good, but now it had gone so wrong with a simple vision and a bad dream. If he had known what Sana had done, before he had allowed the trigger to affect him, he would have been holding Sana and assuring her that everything would be alright. He would have gone off with her to the camp, but now he was stuck in the town, compromised physically and mentally. His body needed to fully heal. It was nice to have all of the damaged tissue repaired instantly, but the blood was always something he had to regain from rest and relaxtion..

He had lost too much blood, most of it bled out onto the ground or on his shirt, which was now wrapped around Sana's arm. He was now wearing his other shirt that Sana had brought him from Rodger's saddle bags. He was in desperate need of a few new shirts, but this would do for now.

He seemed to fully come back into reality when he felt the soft kiss of Sana, her smell entrancing him, and the taste of her leaving him with slightly extended lips. He looked stupid. Quite stupid.

The memories of how it was back when Hugh was young and stupid, and he had lost everything in one day, were drifting through his mind. He remembered crying like a child, screaming at the heavens, and swearing up and down about how they would pay for all of this. They would continue to pop up in his mind, pictures of everything that would cause him to shudder and shake it off.

Hugh was alerted by Sana to the whereabouts of his items that he had left in the room. Though he was confused why she had brought them down, as he was under the impression, from when they talked earlier, that they were heading out in the morning. He relented, however, and finally stood up. He shook himself off, and began collecting the strewn items, regardless of the plans.

Hugh was busy on this task, when he heard a familiar spark in Sana. That familiar spark that filled him with pride. He looked at her and gave a satisfied smile, looking like his usual self from her response to the thief.

Her words soon finished and Hugh went back to putting his gear on and collecting it. He wasn't intent on wearing it all. He just had his weapons attached and slung his chain mail and other clothing pieces over his shoulder. Soon his task was finished; finished in time to watch Sana head off with the others on a party somewhere to fight a personal war.

Hugh sighed, looking onwards, before heading inside the inn. He stopped and survived the room, looking through the smoky haze, before seeing a familiar face. It was the thief who had joined up with them. The one who could talk haughty and then lose all of his calm when a few bad men got killed. Hugh had caused much cruelty, but he had only done what he thought was necessary to survive.

He remembered acting like he was about to die and lose it all, and how he was sorry it had to be like this to Sana. He remembered her snapping on him for his cynicism and scaring her so much. He felt remorseful at the thought that he had done that to her. That he had been so stupid as to let the bandit get away and not finish him off, like he should have. He had dropped his guard too quickly.

Hugh walked over to the thief, dropping his gear at the feet of the bar stool. He was no longer wearing any of his gear, including his weapons, it all in a pile on the floor at his feet. He heaved himself over top of the stool, loudly seating himself. Giving a quick request to the host for a cup of coffee. He was considering drinking something far stronger, but decided to refrain for the moment, as his body recovering

Hugh didn't notice that the wizard known as Melvus showing up, until he heard Tobias mention the name of Sana. Hugh nearly snapped at the bad mouthing of her by Tobias, but restrained himself, simply taking to glaring at his cup. He shot a glare out of the corner of his eye towards Tobias at the mention of Big Brute Pally Hugh, not really certain how that name started. Finally, Hugh put his hand on the counter and turned to face Tobias, "What fucking demons?" He said, speaking loudly.

Fiona wasn't about to reject the healing from Vaeri. Her sword arm had become more or less useless from the damage it had taken in the fight, and she was little use to the group without it. Allowing Vaeri to heal her, she found that same warm, painless sensation flowing into her limb, the damage soon completely healed, and she twisted her hand and fingers about when it was done, testing it, and finding that she had her strength back. Nodding her thanks to Vaeri, she looked around quickly, to find that the fighting was winding down, and that they could get to freeing these people soon. Sana appeared to be distraught about something, but... perhaps it was best to allow her some distance?

At Vaeri's question, Fiona actually laughed softly, trying to avoid letting the sound carry far. In addition, laughing too loudly would certainly put a strain on her torso, which was going to have some decent bruising soon. "That was skill, was it?" she said, looking skeptical. "If it hadn't been for the distraction of your spell, I think I'd have died. I think I've a long way to go before I can call myself skilled." Vaeri was at least somewhat right, though. For a simple farm girl, Fiona handled herself better than most would in a fight.

"There was an old swordsman in my village, though. Said he used to be a knight, though I don't know if I ever believed him. He showed me a few things when I could sneak away, got me started. After that... well, I think it's the bruises and cuts that teach me the most." She had a tendency to learn things the hard way, and supposed it was lucky none of those things had killed her yet.

"Come on," she said, gesturing with her head towards the prisoners. "We can talk while we help." She started off towards those captured by the slavers, feeling more steady now that she'd caught her breath. "What about you? Where'd you learn to fight with that axe?" She had to admit it wasn't the weapon of choice she'd have guessed for a woman of the cloth, but clearly she wielded it quite well.

"Do you think of it like that? From my perspective, you managed to single-handedly defeat two foes who were both better equipped than you and were adept at working together. I may have lent some unintentional assistance, but your quick thinking allowed you to take advantage of his lack of focus." As she listened to Fiona talk about her past, she idly licked the wounds on her arms. They probably would not see adequate healing until tomorrow, when her abilities would refresh, and saliva was an efficient way to clean them. In fact, it was practically routine for her to do this. IN the middle of licking her arm she remembered that humans thought this behavior odd and stopped herself. Vaeri smiled nervously at Fiona before answering her question.

"I was not always a holy woman, in my younger years I was something of a wild child. I picked up the axe because of its versatility and power. Nobody else used the axe other than for chopping lumber, so I taught myself from the beginning with wood cutting techniques and went from there." Vaeri followed Fiona as she idly chatted. Alone she probably would not have the focus to free these people, as aside from being injured Vaeri had been awake for about 20 hours now and after the adrenaline faded it had begun to affect her. She figured that she would be able to help and carry conversation well enough, but not too much more than that. "I have had a bit of divine guidance since then, but for the most part I'm self-taught and still learning. Of course, I have had far more time to hone my craft than you. I do not know if you have met any of my kind before, but we live much longer than you do. I'm currently 148 years and five moons old. I would suppose that would translate to about 26 years at the rate humans age. Truth be told, the axe is not actually my best weapon, that would be the short bow. I've been using it for as long as I can remember, as all children in my village do."

---

The serpentine blade glimmered in the light of the day as it sailed through the air and looped around the small, bloodied goblin. A blur of metallic sheen waved in-front of Drizzak's face as he redirected another sweeping cut and lead it down to his lower left-hand side before whirling the blade back up to its high guard and twisting his body around to deliver a broad horizontal cut. A defensive move, but an effective one. Where Xilipha had size and two weapons, Drizzak was able to balance the conflict with greater speed and a propensity for surprisingly effective acrobatic displays. The air parted with a whistle as he spun the blade back to high guard and rolled to the side to avoid a slice-stab-slice combination from the formidable young woman he was facing. Drizzak could have sworn she was cracking a smile beneath those wraps of hers. As she wheeled around, Drizzak took the opening and dashed forward with his blade held flush in his hand. The opening was small, but just small enough for Drizzak. With a swift slice, he scored a cut along the woman's thigh, truly aiming for the stomach but being unable to catch her properly as she back-wheeled and retaliated mid-step. The silver of her blade caught him much more soundly, an advantage of her size.

With a flash of silver and a spike of literally blinding pain, Drizzak lost the sight in his left eye. The entire side of his face felt warm as he stumbled and rolled to the floor, clutching his face in pain. Xilipha squeezed at her thigh before uttering a weak giggle at the fallen heap of goblin. Her step was staggered, but she still attempted to wiggle her hips a bit as she sauntered over to Drizzak and raised a blade, point down and ready to deliver the coup-de-grace. The act was set into motion as the blade came down quickly, careening towards Drizzak's exposed back like a hawk after its prey. But it was an act that never went through, as Drizzak rolled over and threw a handful of soil at her eyes. Xilipha screamed inarticulately and recoiled, ceasing in her attack for long enough that Drizzak was able to leap to his feet and bring his blade up in a two-handed strike intended to separate one of her arms from her body entirely. Though he connected, the cut was too shallow and she moved too quickly. The shrouded woman was left with an ugly red fissure between her breast and her bicep, carving its way up partially as it began to seep dark red onto her cloth vestments.

Xilipha's hand went to the wound quickly, and came back dappled with dark crimson, as her eyes darted from the blood to Drizzak and back again. It was only a few moments before she dropped one of her blades and tucked her arm close to her side with a groan of pain.

"You have torn one of my silver sisters from my grasp, Creature. Now I've a want to take that lovely snake-blade of yours for my own keeping. As compensation and an apology."

Drizzak looked through his one eye, yet unbloodied, at the coy but dangerous woman. Then he looked to his blade. The slender, waved blade edged with her warm red. With no more than a second thought, Drizzak advanced on the woman wordlessly, transferring his grip on his blade's hand-and-a-half handle from both hands at high guard, to a single hand in a reversed grip, with the blade extending behind him. Xilipha paused for a moment, before advancing as well, faster yet than Drizzak was striding. As the neared him, her pace quickened from a power-walk to a charge. Her blade reflected light into his eyes as she raised it to ready for a thrust. Drizzak smiled and twisted his body in preparation for a gut-spilling horizontal slice. He kept smiling as he stopped in his tracks and felt the blade enter his shoulder with slight resistance. He could not move, for fear that her blade would cut and tear deeper. He could only grimace and continue smiling as Xilipha leaned down, pulled down her wraps to reveal her comely features and smiled at him.

"Ever so sorry, Creature. Looks like its the fair lady who sticks it in the monster this time." She giggled as she leaned in closer, now almost breathing into Drizzak's mouth with her sweet-smelling scents. "I would offer you a rematch, but it seems that you're a one and done kind of deal. A shame."

Drizzak then made a move, when all thought he was done for. He put a vice-like grip on her wrist and pulled the blade into his shoulder deeper, to draw her in closer, before chuckling darkly. His lips slowly curled up to reveal his predatory fangs and beady eyes, like a creature staring out from the shadows of a nightmare. Her smile faded as she felt herself being drawn in to the world spoken of only in the bawdiest of myths and legends. Softly, their lips touched, as the goblin continued to chuckle and giggle maliciously. The feeling of his lips, slick with blood and scarred beyond belief, was like laying a sloppy smooch on a bowl of boiled worms. Terrible. Disgusting. Painful. Very painful.

Xilipha looked down to see that she had been pulled to her knees in the struggle. And there was a strangely familiar snakelike blade peeking out from a dark patch on her chest.

Drizzak burst out into full-bore mad laughter at that point as he twisted his blade and tore it out with a wet splat and a series of squelching gurgles. Xilipha fell to the ground, lifeless on impact, and leaking a wonderful shade of red onto the ground. With the blade still in his shoulder, piercing all the way through to his back, he cackled until his laughter died down to a grim setting of his face. Drizzak brought his blade down firmly, feeling the red spray from its surface and onto the ground to join the rest of the red. He had won, and it was fun. So, why did he not feel great about it? Why was he not feeling the same relief burning in his chest, instead being harassed by the very literal burning in his chest, like some sort of punishment? His mouth tasted bitter and metallic, his face hurt and his entire body was dirty and bloody.

He looked down at the lifeless body of the young woman and slumped into a sitting position, looking like a fish that got hooked incorrectly with the blade in his shoulder. With a hint of malice, he spat on the ground to his side, away from the body. The taste wasn't fading. Nor was the burning, as he looked into the once-bright blue eyes as they began haze over and lose their spark. A silent, painful moment passed before Drizzak looked down at himself and then to the girl once more before looking to the blade stuck in him, sighing.

"Yes. Shame."

It was unsettling to Hanzo, not getting rid of the dead like this, but doing so with essentially a reanimated skeleton. The monk and the living undead shared few words in the meantime, only when needing to coordinate their work. The strange blue faerie creature tried to strike up conversation a couple of times before ultimately deciding against it, considering the circumstances. Certainly, Hanzo had not seen anything quite so unique of life as this man and his companion.

It was something of a long and grueling process (made far more delicate by the many pieces some of the bodies were blasted into) to assemble all of the death outside of town, but they did it. In about an hour, Hanzo and Mortosh had a pile of cadavers (and most of the pieces they were broken into) at their feet, all of them soaked in the smell of dried blood and paling flesh. Mortosh had carried out a torch to light the pile, which he passed over to Hanzo for him to do the honors. Before they were to start the burning, however, Mortosh was insistent upon perform a ritual to allow the dead to properly leave the world. Hanzo had no quarrel with the idea, his clan performing similar deeds to their own fallen kind.

Zam took out a tiny flute and began to play a slow song upon it, while Mortosh chanted out a parting prayer for the dead men. Hanzo mumbled a few words of his own, from what he vaguely recalled of his own ritual. He couldn't bring himself to think much about the dead bandits here, for each time, his mind drifted back to that gruesome, fateful battle years ago.

At Mortosh's go-ahead, Hanzo laid down the torch at the base of the pile, setting the cloth of one of the cadaver's legs alight. He stood back, and motioned for Mortosh and Zam to do the same. Soon the fire spread to the vulnerable flesh, fanning out to engulf the cadavers like a disease. Cinder sickness, he realized. This pile of burning dead could be those children if their cure didn't arrive in time. Whatever the adventurers were doing here, killing slavers to protect the populace, they very soon needed to start saving lives over ending them.

Eventually, the bonfire was in full force, billowing out deathly plumes of smoky, ashen remains. The smell of death and burning was overwhelming, standing in its awe like this, and Hanzo found himself a bit overwhelmed, it being all to similar to that day. Gods above, why couldn't he stop thinking about that!? Dwelling so much upon his history would do little to change it, and he couldn't secure the future if he kept himself in the past!

But this time just didn't feel good. The scene gave him a bad feeling in his abdomen, all while Hanzo fought to not let himself drift away to just pull from the scene and go rest at the inn. He turned and paced back onto the dirt road to fulfill the thought, but all too suddenly the feeling in his gut redoubled.

This wasn't normal. Something was quite wrong, and he knew it.

Slowly, cautiously, Hanzo looked around, his senses sharpening again. Whatever could set him off like that had to be something Hanzo had felt well before; if it was what he thought it might be, they were in trouble. He remained silent and focused he directed his attention to the south; there, as the dirt path lead out of town, the forest grew to obscure the view on either side, and then the road itself curved off sharply to one side.

A couple of slow steps further, and his senses intensified. Faint traces of a burning scent entered his nostrils, far different from the scorched corpses: sulfur. Joining it soon thereafter was the bestial growling and barking of dogs, not at all akin to the sounds of the forst surrounding this village. His eyes narrowed, almost zooming in...

The riders quickly rounded the bend soon after he heard them. Three men led the pack - one dressed in some vague regalia whom he presumed to be the leader, and two more gruff men aside him: a younger one with a scarred face, and an older with beaten-

Oh no.

Hanzo snapped free, his expression turning to panic. "Run- back to the town! We have to warn them!" The monk cried out to Mortosh, backpedaling to start running back to the village. He hurriedly explained along the way, "The slavers are back, and they're armed. Get the others from the inn- I'll get the people inside!" As the two of them split up and dashed into town, Hanzo bellowed out in warning to the townspeople, warning them of another attack. He was hoping to get everyone inside before the slavers arrived, and pray that his meager half of the adventurers could hold them off...

One dog that was on his leg was down but the first one he hit got back up. The one that bit his arm got fed the arrow and was busy trying to shake the shattered shaft out of its head. He took up his club and could not bear weight on the one leg so he put one hand to the ground for balance as the bone rested on his back.

The first one from before charged in fast for his throat and got met with the club from above in an overhand blow again, this time the dog did not get up. The other was still shaking its head and unable to fight back. It wasn't a good fight, it was putting the sick down and so he did with a full swing to end its pain.

He looked around at the rest of the group, then to the dead dogs and finally to the hunter, this was his second hunter and so he would take a second trophy by taking two slaver arrows then putting one in the old hole and making a new piercing with the second one before licking at the blood on his arm. Two hunters killed, two hunters arrows, good trophies.

When he looked at the new pack, he had noticed something, one of the females was licking herself like he did. So he limped over to the one with the axe with a huge grin on his face and brought her the slavers bow.

"Me lick you?"

The Slavers Encampment – Group A

The world seemed to fade away around Sana as she sat there on her knees rocking back and forth as she held her father’s hand; her eyes closed tight as she fought back the tears. This had not been the best day. She had almost lost Hugh earlier in the day and now she comes to find out that she arrived too late to save her father. What if she hadn’t taken the time to snap back at Tobias, would she have made it in time? She would never know now. Two sets of tears in a single day, it was not something Sana was emotionally used to. Since she had left home more than a decade ago she had only shed a single tear before today and now the tears seemed to be trying to make up for years of being held back.

Sana leaned back on her knees, still holding his hand as she looked up at the sky breaking through the tree tops. Her and her father had not parted on the best of terms. She had been raised a gypsy and her parents had been told by the troops divinator what her life was supposed to be, a courtesan. When Sana had aged enough she found out exactly what that meant and it had infuriated her. It drove her to learn to protect herself and to leave her family long before they could push her into it; before she could be touched. Why her parents had seen nothing wrong with it was always beyond her grasp other than they had just been raised that way and it was how it had been done for hundreds of years. You were given your lot in life and you dealt with it. It was supposed to be an honor and she was supposed to take over as the matriarch of the troop because of her position but she refused and left.

Only her sister Ramara understood, and though she pleaded for Sana not to leave her, she let her go eventually so she could make a break for it, to freedom and that was how Sana had lived. Free for so many years from her past and now it was right before her and she wept over it. It didn’t matter her past anymore, her father was dead, her family gone from what she knew and even with all her skill in battle she couldn’t save them. Had she stayed behind could she have? It was another thing she would never know.

Sana sighed deeply as she reached over and closed her father’s eyes as she sat there. “Rest in peace papa,” she said as she looked at him and pushed his hair out of his face. Taking a deep breath she slowly rose from her place and let her father’s hand falls from hers, wiping the tears away as she stood there. There was nothing she could do for him now but morn and there was not time for that. She had wasted too much already.

“You all did good,” Sana said after she cleared her throat. “Thank you,” she said in an appreciative voice as she began to rummage through the pockets of the various dead slavers that were scattered along the ground; finally finding what she was looking for, the keys to cages. Tilting her head to the side as she stood over the whipmaster her eyes narrowed somewhat. Reaching down she snapped a chain off the mans neck and held up two rings that were hanging from it; looking at them carefully, a set of wedding bands, the intricate carvings in the metal very known to Sana. They were at one time her parents, bands they had worn as long as she could remember while she was growing up. Tying the chain around her neck she tucked it under what was left of her shirt that was scorched and burned from the fire.

Walking over to the main holding cell she fiddled with the keys for a bit as she tried to find the right one. One slipped in to the lock and the tumblers turned as she twisted the key, the lock popping open. Hooking the keys to her side she slid the chain off the bars and opened the cage; it squeaking as she did and it took some effort to get the door fully swung open.

“It’s okay, we are going to take you somewhere safe,” she said softly to those there, they were afraid and it was understandable. They were not sure what was going on; they were starved, hurt, thirsty and standing on the bodies of those that had lost their lives to such hardships. Sana could not blame them for their wide eyes and trembling features. Sighing deeply as she turned to Vaeri and Fiona.

“Can one of you grab some water for them and another start tending to their wounds. Nothing major, just enough to make sure they survive the trip back to the village. We can feed them back at the inn,” she said as she dusted the rust from the bars off her hand and began to help the frightened people out of their confinement; holding her hand out to each one in turn as he helped them down and away from the cage to sit down on the ground for a bit until she figured out what to do next.

Looking at the group that came with her she couldn’t help but be proud of them. They did what needed to be done to help free these people. Death was not something Sana found fun but sometimes there was no other choice. They wouldn’t have released these people and would have continued to traumatize them for whatever reason. What Sana could not figure out was why they would want to capture people to sell into slavery only to hurt them and starve them to such a point they would never fetch a decent price on the slave market. Taking out the cruel factor, it just didn’t make good sense money wise and that was usually why people like this did this; to make money.

Shaking the thought from her head she looked over towards Lob and pointed up to the two cages that were handing from the trees that a person each in them. “Lob, can you get them down safely?” she asked as she watched the creature offering to lick Vaeris wounds. He was different but he got the job done and seemed kind in his own way. Reaching down she unlatched the keys from her belt and walked over to him and handed them over. “Be careful,” she said as she reached out and took one of his hands, placing the keys in them. She hoped he could do it, if not she would have to think of another way to get them down.

Turning she walked over to Drizzak and knelt down next to him, pulling a healing potion out of her pouch and handing it over to him. “Think we need to get you fixed up my old friend,” she said as she held the vial in her hand and held it out to him. “We still have a long way to go before we can get back to the village.”

The Village – Group B

The sun was high now that the day was over half way through and the village was recovering from the brawl that had broken out in the streets. Sister Agnes was trying to wrap her head around everything that had happened as she walked back into the apothecary. To most it may have been because they assumed that it was something she had never seen before but in all honesty it was something she had witnessed. The sister did not speak of her life before she joined the convent and there was good reason for it. Beneath those robes there were scars; scars hidden beneath the folds of the thick fabric of her habit. Over forty years being a member of the convent could only help to heal some of her past but it did not erase it. The scene that had unfolded before her had not made her sick to her stomach because of the brutality of it all but because of the memories it dredged up.

Wylsen was the only one in the village who knew the sisters past but he would not bring it up to her. He did though see the look in her eye as she looked out the window of his shop. It was a look he had seen on her features before, one that would pop up when she would return from other villages to bring children to the orphanage after she had out run the slavers. They had been a problem in the area for some time but they were never able to do anything about it and the faces changed so often. It seemed they never sent the same team into the town twice. Sighing deeply he walked over to the nun and placed his hand on her shoulder to try to give her some comfort. Sister Agnes looked over to him with a grim expression on her face.

“I don’t think this is over,” Agnes said towards Wylsen; Wylsen nodded. They had tried to resist in the past and it only drove them to send in more to meet their quota. They knew another attack would occur and the sister was placing all her hope in the small group that went out to the camp itself. She never expected what was about to happen to occur.

From the south of town it began about an hour after Sanas group have left for the encampment. The southern road was hidden because of a turn in the road and the trees that lined each side of the dirt path but one that was outside would be able to hear the vicious snarls coming from beasts that were anything but your typical dog and the smell of sulfur was being carried on the air to the village. It would give those outside burning the bodies a bit of a warning but not much. When the source of the smell and noise broke around the bend and came into view it was evident that something horrific was about to happen. This was not a small group coming towards the village and it would seem as if the one that Sana had killed had lied. He hadn’t; he said how many were in the camp and the group to the north. He failed to mention the secondary team from the south who had been called together by the main Slaver and the rest of those that had escaped.

Leading the group was the main Slaver Gal riding a large black horse, behind him were two more on horses; the ones that Vaeri and Hanzo had let get away. They had been healed somehow and were much better equipped this time than the last. If it had only been there perhaps there would have been nothing to worry about but it was the crowd that was behind them that made this a much larger issue. There were a total of twenty-five creatures/persons including the three from the last fight. The group was mixed though much more than the last and much stronger. They were obviously the main force and hadn’t been sent earlier since the village had been deemed an easy place to strike. They were all well armored and there were many creatures among them that seemed to be trained to follow their masters will.

The town had been quiet since the first battle and most of the people in the small village had opted to stay indoors, not sure what to do or think at this point. The stillness was broken as Hanzo yelled. The sudden break in the silence caused the nuns blood to run cold. Then something else hit her sense. Sister Agnes knew the smell of the sulfur and as it wafted into the apothecary she gulped. “God help us all….” she said as she pushed the door open and her eyes fell on the sight before her as they came closer to the town. The sisters hand clung to the door frame as she watched, she couldn’t fight but those that were there would need healing and she was not going to run from those that would need assistance. Looking around at those that were coming to the village she could not find the source of the sulfur smell, it wasn't there but it hung on the soon to be assailants like a bad omen.

Those in the village that had been out and about quickly ran to what they hoped was safety, doors slamming quickly behind them and shuttered being pulled close. Sister Agnes slowly walked away from the door she had clung to and stood on the edge of the wooden patio that was in front of the apothecary. There were so many coming towards the village and half of those that had come to help were gone; those that remained seemed to be the most injured. Could they hold them off? She didn’t know, all she could do was wait until someone needed healing and pray; which she did as her hands clasped in front of her.

Tobias turned and raised his mug to Hugh. "Oh, hey, there he is." He furrowed his brow at the man's confrontational stance and aggressively loud question. "Uh, what demons? Just the one, remember, from the apothecary. Z... something, he said his name was." The thief paused for a moment. "I-it was just the one, right? There weren't... more that I didn't see? That would be bad."

A stranger sitting next to Tobias tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, bruv. I've got a set of clothes just like that."

"Weird," the thief responded automatically, sipping from his mug. Just then, his sharp ears caught a shout from outside and he surged to his feet. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening.

This was totally happening, it became apparent as he ran outside the inn and beheld what was on the horizon. There was a small army bearing down on the village, all sorts of bandits and slavers and beasts among their numbers.

Everywhere people were running, making a mad dash for whatever sanctuary they could find. It wasn't going to matter, though - these bandits, these slavers - they'd burn down every house, take everything they wanted, and drag off anyone they thought was valuable.

Tobias leaned back against the wall of the inn, his head swimming from alcohol and bloodloss. No, there wasn't time for that. The thief had been in a lot of close scrapes while more impaired than this, and so he bit his cheek and willed his head to clear, for now at least, while he analyzed the situation.

The situation, incidentally, was totally fucked. Fiona was gone, the elf with the axe was gone, crazy Sana was gone, the orc with the bone was gone, the goblin was gone. All that was left to defend the town and the orphanage - fucking orphans - was a wizard who kept passing out, Big Brut Pally Hugh, a bare-handed bald man, and a bizarre corpse. And me.

Tobias didn't know how to fight, but he knew how to decieve. Sleight of hand, acrobatics, misdirection. Tobias drew his daggers and began stepping, almost serene, against the river of people running for safety. He could do this. It'd be like a burglary, a con, a pickpocketing... but with more, you know. Pain and stabbing. And if that didn't work, he had a secret weapon up his sleeve. He hoped the apothecary was as good as he said he was.

Resolute, doomed and scared shitless, the thief waited for the storm to break.

Melvus didn't notice Hugh at first, until he what could be described as a yell at Tobias... Something about demons. She murdered someone..? Perhaps Sana isn't as savoury as I had initially thought... I'll have to keep my eye on them... Perhaps some are not here to help orphans...

Not long after Hugh yelled at Tobias, the latter was seen talking to a stranger to the group... Perhaps a friend? Melvus took notice that Tobias was wearing different clothes than earlier - he paid it no more mind. This was mainly because the man rose from his bench and left, he seemed terrified. Melvus followed behind him, letting out a quiet yawn.

The man drew a dagger and Melvus could see why there were a great many citizens running about, likely because of the slavers. They were riding into town, swords, bows, axes and other weapons they may have, drawn. They also had a few dogs I should have guessed something like this would happen...

Fiona hadn't thought of it like Vaeri did, but maybe the elven woman was right. Her sword arm had been severely injured even at the start of the fight, and she'd still managed to hold her own against two opponents. "Thanks," she said, as they walked. "You have a point. It's something I pride myself on a little, I guess. I'm not skilled enough yet to avoid all the hits, but toughness and resourcefulness help me get through them. I'm a work in progress, though, no doubt about that." She did notice the rather odd move Vaeri made to lick at her own wounds, but made no comment on it. She wasn't in the habit of judging oddities like that.

Fiona had come across a few elves before in recent memory, but none had come to be traveling or fighting companions such as what this was shaping up to be. She wondered, from how she described herself, if Vaeri had not been so different from Fiona, wanting to carve her own path even when it seemed more logical to do something else. She was beginning to strike her as that kind of woman, though obviously she had found a calling with her chosen faith.

She arrived next to Sana just in time to hear her say a farewell. The dead man was apparently her father, something that shocked Fiona not only because of the tragedy of it, but the sheer coincidence as well. The woman's luck today was... less than stellar, to say the least. Having no knowledge of Sana's past or relationship with her family, she respectfully maintained silence on the subject, nodding her thanks to Sana's compliment.

"I'll find some water for them," Fiona offered, leaving Vaeri to do the healing. Fiona hardly had any skills in that regard that would help them, but fetching water she could do. The slavers they had fought carried skins of it, and while the two that Vaeri incinerated were gone, the others had some left, and Fiona quickly rounded up a few, returning them to the captives.

The smell of them was heavy, but Fiona refused to show it, trying to offer them what comfort a smile could offer as she crouched before each one in turn and offered a small amount of water. There was only so much to go around, so what she did have needed to be carefully split. A few of them offered words of thanks, to which Fiona responded with gentle squeezes of their shoulders. In truth, she was starting to feel a bit emotional from seeing their states. It was wonderful to help these people, and she was certain the others in the group back in the village would see the worth of this little venture when they returned.

Vaeri was a bit taken aback by Lob bursting out of the forest and offering to lick her wounds. Licking your own wounds was one thing, but having someone else lick you was breaching personal space on at least 3 different levels. Hastily, she shook her head in refusal with a quick, "I'll be fine." She did take the bow that was presented to her a bit tentatively. Where did he get this bow and why was he giving it to her? Vaeri didn't know the answer to either part of the question, but wouldn't say anything about it, only nodding gracefully at Lob. It was certainly a well constructed weapon, she couldn't deny that; however, Vaeri already had a bow that much better suited her in her bag. No matter, she would just hang onto the weapon for the time being. Into the bag the bow disappeared.

Stifling another yawn, she nodded at Sana's request. Fiona went for the water immediately, so it would be up to Vaeri to treat wounds. Well, out of everyone here, she probably had the most medical knowledge, but she was far better at divine healing than mundane. Still, these people needed help, and she'd give it to them as best as she could. Vaeri rubbed her eyes, slapped her face a couple times and wiped off any blood that might have gotten on her mouth before she went to work. The captives were certainly in poor condition, but they only needed to be brought up to a condition where they could survive. Returning them to something resembling healthy would take time, food and water. She could heal wounds. Curing starvation, dehydration and disease required aspects of magic that she wasn't familiar with.

Hastily, she shook her head in refusal with a quick, "I'll be fine." She did take the bow that was presented to her a bit tentatively. Lob canted his head to the side at the decline to be licked, but she took the bow so that made him happy. When she walked off, the alpha female came to him with orders. Did Lob do wrong by going to the lesser female before the alpha female first?

"Me lick you?"

“Lob, can you get them down safely?” Reaching down she unlatched the keys from her belt and handed them over. “Be careful.” she said as she reached out and took one of his hands, placing the keys in them.

Looking to the trees, then the keys, then the cages. Slowly his mind worked over the details, he knew that the talismans opened doors, but the how of it escaped him, it was always the knife-ear in his old pack that used talismans to open doors. He missed her, but she was one that fought over metal and rocks. He didn't like the metal and rocks that made others mad.

He took the talisman and put it in his teeth as he set his bone against the tree then ran up the trunk to the lowest branch. Hanging upside down, his one leg would not help him climb well so he used it just draped over the limb dripping blood as he put the other three to work to slide down the branch. He held the chains to the bird cage and grabbed the branch after the chain then began to pull.

"Lob strong, tree weak. Lob strong. Tree weak. Lob strong! Tree weak!"

With the strength of a giant, lob wrapped both legs around the tree as he used his whole body to bend the bough. There was a great groan of protest as the half orc forced himself upon the wood, but it began to crack. The cracks became crackles like a call to thunder as half the branch came falling to the ground. Still holding the birdcage chain, he uncurled and lowered the captives to the ground from above. Once the first was free, he dropped to the ground on three with a river of red running down his right. Working through the pain he drug the broken branch away to the edge of the clearing before heading to the second tree.

The Slave Camp – Group A

Sana smiled at Drizzak as she knelt there, tilting her head to the side slightly. She didn’t like seeing him injured and she wanted to reach out and help get him healed up but she wasn’t sure how he would react to it. She wasn’t a healer; she just had healing potions from Sister Agnes. Reaching out she took his hand and placed the vial into it. “Sister Agnes gave me this,” she said in a kind voice. “It helped me,” she said as she pointed to the slash on her face and the puncture wounds in her shoulder that while not fully healed were sealed up and were no longer bleeding. Maybe she shouldn’t have left the more powerful ones at the village with Hugh but it was what they had right then and it was enough to keep them going. “Just drink it and it should help,” she said before turning her attention to the sound of cracking wood and looked up.

Seeing Lob in the tree she placed her hands on her hips, stepping over to the cage and helping the man out and over to the rest of the group before walking over towards Lob and smiling, resting her hand on his shoulder before he could climb up once again. “Wait,” she said in a concerned voice as she noticed the blood and ripped off the bottom part of her skirt. “You’re hurt,” she added as she rested down on her knees and began to wrap the wound up. Reaching into her bag she pulled out the last of the healing potions she had brought with her and made a mental note to make sure to get more when they got back to the village. These were items they would need in the future and even with healers it was good to have back up so the health of the entire party was not just on a select few. Holding it out she popped the cork and handed it to him. “Drink,” she said as she placed it in his hand and smiled before walking away.

Even with everything that had happened, the time away from Hugh was doing her some good. Not having to focus on his injury clear her head and act more like the person she was, not the thing she snapped into being because someone she loved was hurt. It was odd, her father had died in her arms but it didn’t affect her as much as seeing Hugh being injured. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about her father, she had, but they hadn’t spoken in over a decade and with everything else going on around them she didn’t have time to morn. That would come later. She had shed her tears and those around her needed far more help than she did right then.

Taking a long breath she made her way over to the horses that were there and untied them from the tree they were tied to. Turning she looked around and was glad to see there was a wagon they could use to transport the captives back to the village. It looked like it had been used to transport supplies; it was open, no bars, no chains in it. It would be far more suitable to move them in that wagon than the cage they had been living in. Leading the horses over to the wagon she began to hook the horses up. It would be a slow trek back to the village with as many people as they had to get out of the camp but at least now they could sit down during the trek. As Sana stood there getting everything in order for them to leave a thought crossed her mind. Things looked pretty sparse here as she turned to look around. There didn’t seem to be anything of real value laying out and about but there was a covered wagon that looked like it could be used as a home of sorts on wheels. It was nothing like the wagons she had been raised in but it was something and a few areas on the ground seemed out of place; bushes that looked like they should have been cleared away and piles of leaves that didn’t fit.

“Um, could someone take a moment when they get a chance and start searching this place? Maybe we will find something other than death while we are here,” she said as she finished hooking up the first of the three horses. Even when they got the people back to the village they would need something other than food, water and rest. They would need money to start a new life. The village would need something to help cover the costs of helping them with things like food, water, clothing, shelter. Hopefully they would find something to help these people more than just setting them free.

Having just finished giving drinks of water to everyone that would accept it, Fiona stood and brushed off her knees. "I'll take a look around, see if I can find anything." It was calm at last, and while the scene could have been better, with less offensive smells and sights of bloodshed, the forested area was peaceful again, something the day surely needed. Fiona was in excellent condition, but she could already tell that she would be in sore need of rest by nightfall.

Just as she started looking for a place to search she noticed her horse trotting back into the camp. Fiona was a bit surprised he hadn't kept his distance, but she was glad all the same, going over to meet him and briefly stroking his neck. "All clear now," she assured him, before leading him over to the covered wagon she could see. That looked like the mostly likely place to store something, and she hoped that with the speed of their attack, the slavers wouldn't have had the time to hide anything valuable, or seen the need to. Leaving her horse outside the entrance to the wagon, Fiona quietly slid her sword from the sheath, not wanting to alarm the freed captives, but also wanting to be prepared if there was anyone inside.

As it turned out, there was not, and her hopes were correct; there were some obviously valuable objects lying about in the wagon. Sheathing her sword, Fiona's eyes were drawn to the moderate sized chest first, and while it was locked, the chest itself wasn't very sturdy, and a quick downward stomp of her boot was enough to break it open. Her eyes widened noticeably when she peered inside. The chest appeared to hold the slaver group's treasure, consisting of silver and gold pieces, as well as a number of colorful gems, few of which Fiona knew the names of. That one was an... amethyst? She thought so, anyway. "Wow," she breathed to herself, shutting the lid of the chest again. That was certainly going back to the village with them.

The rest was scattered in a fairly unorganized manner amidst piles of junk, but some of it was quite useful, as far as Fiona could tell. There were three potions, labeled Bull's Strength, Cure Light Wounds, and Mage Armor. She took the Bull's Strength and Cure Light Wounds potions for herself, figuring those were most useful for her, and set aside the other one. Two scrolls were present, Protection from Evil and Gust of Wind, and there was a cloak near the back which, judging by the inscription on it, was magical, and would increase resistance. Taking the cloak, she placed the potion and the scrolls into it, put it on top of the chest, and then grabbed the chest by the handles on each side, lugging it out of the wagon. It was heavy, but manageable for such a short distance.

"Found quite a bit inside," she announced to the group, setting down the chest. She opened up the cloak to display the items next to the chest, and then lightly kicked open the lid of the chest to reveal the gold, silver, and gems within. "We could take some as payment for the job here, but I think most of it should go to the village. They'll need it to get all these people taken care of. As for the items, I took a pair of potions, but figured the rest would be better off elsewhere. So... take what you need." Considering herself an adventurer and not a treasure hunter, Fiona really had no attachment to any of this. The gold would be useful certainly, but it would be better spent by someone other than her, she knew.

Vaeri had seen to all the former captives that needed immediate attention and patched them up as best as she could given her limited supplies and abysmal working conditions. They would at least be well enough to make the slow walk back to camp without keeling over. She lightly patted her final patient on his newly patched up leg before standing up off the ground. He was a scraggly man who looked to be in his early-thirties, but going from the little conversation she could coax out of him, he was probably in his late teens. She would have prayed for his well being, but the wrong god would be listening.

Sana then asked for the party to look around the camp. Vaeri scanned the area but everything looked pretty barren. Well, it did until she spotted a bit of dark red in some bushes that looked like they should have been long ago cleared away. She walked over to the bushes and after a bit of jiggling the bushes found a small velvet pouch hidden within. She shook the bush it was hidden in violently until the pouch dropped onto the ground. The last thing Vaeri wanted to do was stick one of her cut up arms into a leafy, prickly plant. And who knows what insects might be hiding, waiting to latch on to the next unsuspecting elf. The thought of having some bulbous bug suck on her arm wound almost make her wretch.

After retrieving the pouch, Vaeri dusted off the bag before opening it to examine its contents. There were a few slips of paper, a gem and some gold at first glance. First Vaeri pulled out the gem to find it mostly clear and exceedingly hard. Most likely a diamond. She kept it in her palm to have it remain out of the way as she searched through the rest of the bag's contents. She pulled out a piece of folded paper that as she unfurled it grew to be a rather large piece of paper, judging by the text on it, a magical scroll. She couldn't read it however, so it was likely an arcane scroll. That too joined its diamond companion after Vaeri folded it back into its smaller state. Then came another slip of paper, this one only folded a couple times. On the front was a stylized bull made up exclusively of thick, dark blue lines. On the back was writing describing it as a psionic tattoo of Bull's Strength, once applied it is permanent, and three times a day allowed its wearer to receive the effects of the Bull's Strength power of 15 minutes each use. Interesting, but not for Vaeri. Not because she was afraid of scarring her body further, but Divine Might granted her more power and she didn't want to rely too much on a tattoo she wasn't even sure if it was magic. With the scroll and diamond it went. Vaeri looked in the bag once more and found a silver ring stuck in the gold. It was labelled a Ring of Protection. Well don't mind if I do. Vaeri removed the label before sliding it onto her bloodied right ring finger. The rest of the objects save for the tattoo were placed back into the pouch. Vaeri walked over to Fiona's pile of treasure and tosses her pouch onto the top of the pile of treasure. From the stack she took the two scrolls. Both would probably useful in the future. Specifically against the hellhounds and Pegasus.

"I found an arcane scroll, some gold, what I think is a diamond, this ring of protection and this tattoo in that pouch." Vaeri waved the folded piece of parchment in the air before presenting it to Fiona. "If you apply it, it permanently attaches like a real tattoo, but touching it gives you increased strength as that of the Bull's Strength spell for 15 minutes. It works 3 times a day even. I think you could use it, Fiona. You seem to get into grappling situations often. If it's not to your taste, Drizzak or Big Green would probably be more than happy to take it."

“Wait, You’re hurt, Drink,”

Lob was about to head back up to the next tree then he felt a hand on his shoulder followed by a potion in his hand. As he drank, she put a strap of her cloth to bind his bite. He would have to think of a way to give back to he alpha as he drank the drink before heading off to the next tree.

With his leg healing by magic, he managed to take a running jump and leap up to the lowest branch with outstretched arms and pulled himself up to the birdcage. Once more he took the chain and the branch to begin his chant as he twisted the teak until it gave with a resounding crash. Dropping the branch but keeping the cage, he lowered the prisoner down to the ground before taking the brush away.

People were safe and the lady licker liked the bow... he needed to find a bow for the alpha female to thank her! He did not need them, but the packs always took the fallen trophies. Setting to work, he took to the fat hunter first to search him over. The last pack hunter told him of 'caches' like squirrel holes in rotten trees or under rocks to hide treasures.

Lob lacked such subtleties so he merely flipped over boulders, tore off the clothes of the slavers or split rotten logs with his bare hands. He founds bags than jungled and tossed them into the middle of the campsite, ate some rancid rations he thohght the dogs would not miss, and SCREAMED in pain as something bit him!

Pulling his hand away, he saw the glistening silver of a blade butting out of s sliver of wood, unmarred by time or weather. He licked his hand for the blood and took the sword. He wasn't sure what kind it was, he didn't use them, but the way it tingled in his hand meant it was either magic or poison.

He brought the blade to the leader of the group.

"Hugh."

The Slave Camp – Group A

Sana finished hooking the horses up to the wagon and stifled a deep yawn as she covered her mouth. It had been a long day and it was only half way over; they still had a long way to go. What else would happen before the group was able to rest for the evening? Sighing deeply she pushed her hair out of her face and took a look around, they needed to get back to the village; at least most of them did. Sana had some personal matters to attend to that would cause her to stay behind. As much as she wanted to rush back to the village and make sure the rest of the group was okay she knew she couldn’t yet.

Turning as Lob came over to her she perked a brow as he held up the sword and smiled at him, reaching over and taking it slowly. “Thank you, I know he will cherish it,” she said softly before giving Lob a hug in thanks. Sana had been adventuring with an orc in the past; though Garekk was very different from Lob, he was full orc but they both seemed to have kind spirits. The same kindness she had seen in Drizzak. It was funny to her, some of the people she had come to most trust in her life where anything but humans. Perhaps that was a good thing. Taking the sword she laced it through the straps on her back that held her quivers in place and made sure it was snug and would stay in place.

“Okay, let us get these folks loaded up and back to the village,” Sana said as she turned back to everyone there and began to slowly help former prisoners up from their resting spots and into the wagon for the long trek back to safety and away from this hell they had been living in. Stopping for a moment she looked over what the others had found and nodded. “Nice haul. I am with Fiona; I say give most of this to the village and the people here. At least some of it was probably theirs when they were captured,” Sana said as she leaned down and brushed her fingers through the gold and gems in the chest. “It will take a lot to get these people taken care of and the village itself doesn’t exactly look rich,” she added as she righted herself and went back to helping load up the people into the wagon. Sana didn’t bother looking at what all was there; she wasn’t exactly interested in what was found. Lob had been kind enough to give her a sword she could give Hugh and she had per parents rings. It was more than she had expected and was fine with that little bit.

Once the last person was in the wagon Sana took a deep breath and walked over to Fiona and Vaeri; clearing her throat a bit and standing there looking a little nervous, something that was not common with Sana. “I need a favor,” she started before continuing. “I need you all and the others to go back to the village without me. I need to bury my father and well I need some time to clear my head. I can take care of cleaning this place up and getting rid of the rest of the bodies. These people don’t need to wait around any longer than they already have to get some food in their stomachs,” she said as she looked at Fiona and Vaeri. She wanted to go back but she knew it wasn’t time yet. “Could you let Hugh know I am alright and I will be back by nightfall?” she asked as she looked at the two women that had come with her. “I know he will be worried sick when you show up and I am not there but yeah, I need some time to clear my head. I just need sometime alone,” she admitted. It had been a rough day and right then the best thing for her was a few hours without anyone around her.

The Village – Group B

Gal wore a hate filled smirk on his lips as his group approached the village. Only a small handful had come out to fight and they looked worn and ragged, there were many missing from the initial fight and Gal thought to himself that this would be easier than he had originally thought. He did not bother to wonder where the rest where. They were not there so they were not his problem right then. He never imagined that they were at his camp to the north and were in the middle of bringing back the people his slave group had captured and that those left behind were now dead.

“Kill them all, make it painful, make it last. Let this village know they either come quietly when we are here or they lose everything,” Gal ordered to his minions. “Now!” he said as thrust his sword into the air and the group ran forward to attack those that dared to stand between him and village. The mercenaries who had wolves on chains and the beastmaster who had the hyenas released them from their binds and ordered them to kill anyone on the street; the beasts rushing forward as they did. One wolf ran right at Melkor while the other charged Tobias, teeth bared and snarling as they went. Both the hyenas decided to run towards the largest man in the group, right towards Hugh, bent on ripping him limb from limb as they charged.

The illusionist and the mage stayed towards the back of the group with the bard behind them, the archers and rangers forming a line before them to cut off incoming attacks while the rest of the assailants rushed forward behind the beasts. These were not the same type of group that had attacked the village earlier that morning; this group was ready for a fight. They had their weapons, they were armored and this time they were organized. Sister Agnes stood there to the side of the fight that was beginning to break out and her eyes widened. Could this small group of adventurers really stop this onslaught to the village? She didn’t know but she could keep them healed through the fight.

The archers let off a volley of arrows towards those that stood against them and from behind the line of ranged weapons the illusionist began to chant. From his hand a barrage of flying axes went wising through the air, they looked solid and were meant to cause confusion for the group as a whole. The axes would cause no damage, they were a mere illusion but they looked real enough. The mages spell however was anything but an illusion but it could seem that way. From between the buildings on either side of the village a fog came rolling in, thick and fast until it blanketed the road as either side of the fog banks crashed together in the middle of the village, rising up.

It would make things more difficult to see but for the mage had misjudged just how good it would work for his team and underestimated how effective it would be for those defending the village. The trying to save the village were close combat fighters for the most part. They were not long ranged. Swords, hand to hand, daggers is what they carried and being able to sneak up on their assailants would make things easier. It would also make it harder for the archers and rangers of the slavers to actually hit a target; it was a rare break in luck for the brave souls that stood against the evils before them. Hopefully they would use it to their advantage.

The last one to do anything was the bard. He stood there waiting, his lute in hand before he began to play it once the fog rolled in. He began to try to play a suggestion song as he looked towards the one standing off to the side; Sister Agnes. Trying to get her to heal those he stood with instead of those that truly needed divine intervention at this point. The sisters head felt foggy as the song came to her hears. Shaking her head slightly a she stood there, trying to fight off the effects of the song before she could end up doing something she regretted.