Alice was taken aback by Urasen's hostile approach, and he stood there with his weapon drawn and bloodied. Suddenly the idea of him being a warrior of repute wasn't so far from mind. She'd never considered him a 'warrior' until now, but his poise was unmistakable. The man replied by drawing his weapon in kind, and Alice started to step back, reaching for her own armaments and noting her other companions to be doing the same.

But no aggressive movement was made. Instead the man stated the fact, his weapon was clean of innocent blood. She turned to Urasen, "No one man could have done this surely?" Her dull brain only just started making connections. This man spoke in a Banian accent. Although she saw Urasen relax, she did not share his comradely for folks of those parts. To most people the only thing to come out of Bania were monsters and criminals, or a combination of the two. Particular parts of his accent were strange though, and she didn't reckon he started out in the place.

Although she didn't think it her place, she decided decorum didn't belong here, and turned to request of Argon, "I'd suggest you get somewhere to keep watch, you know the sights and smells of dangers around here. With a scene like this anything could be on it's way." The Lizardman up this close definitely unsettled her, his tongue flicking out every now and then, and the way his eyes stayed open even when he blinked against the smoke made her inwardly flinch, which might have been outwardly if she hadn't steeled herself. She decided not to stretch her authority to Beren, who no doubt could place himself well enough, and she didn't want to get into the tense conversation-standoff between Urasen and the newcomer. If they had something in common with eachother then she would only make things more uncomfortable by contributing.

@POOHEAD189@BCTheEntity@Banana@Fetzen@Sypherkhode822@Ink Blood

Mags:

The voice of the booming giant made Mags nearly drop her dagger in astonishment. Knees buckling briefly, the girl's mind was sent racing, and didn't comprehend the Skayleigh's question. While she had been gazing up at the broad face of the half-Elf, she was caught unawares by yet another booming voice, this one originating lower to the ground, however.

"Oi! What's yer name lass? Be ye fey, or friend?"

I have no idea what he just said.

"Feh, fey? I don't-"

Flanked on both sides by a dwarf and a giant, a very small part of Mag's mind appreciated the strange pattern that was fulfilled when a human who was practically eye level with her stepped forward, smiling and leaning in, saying,

'Greetings and hello, my good lady!' I've never been called 'lady' before.

'My, my, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?' I am?

'If my companions to either side of me are being somewhat needlessly threatening apologise for their behaviour in their stead; we've been travelling for a while, and I think everybody is just a little touchy as a result. Who ARE these people?

'I'm Settionne, a priest of the gods' Oh sweet blessings. Marauders don't travel with priests.

'and might I ask what your name is?'

The few haphazard etiquette lessons Mags had undergone as a girl came back to her mechanically, her mind struggling to catch up.

Taking the pale priests hand, Mags attempted a fumbling curtsy, saying in a small voice,

"A pleasure to meet you, Messir Settione. I'm Mags. Well, Marguerite, but everyone calls me Mags, I guess."

Weakly dropping her hand, Mags blinked, realized that she was still holding her dagger limply at her side, and deliberately slid it into the sheath at her thigh, collecting herself as she did so.

Taking a deep breath in, she continued,

"I'm a.. Discoverer, I guess? I spend most of my time going between the wilderness, finding ruins out here and studying their magic. I've been looking for a dragon, because I've heard it might know something about the lost city I'm looking for. Do you have an idea of where I could find one?"

'Well, wouldn't you know it, that's exactly what us and ours are looking for too!' Sett practically blurted out, playing up the "too friendly for his own good" angle with this hedge mage. 'We're part of a somewhat larger party than this, and I reckon your assistance - and manners, at that - would be much appreciated in this quest. And there is safety in numbers, after all, aheheheh!'

And the thing was, there definitely wasn't safety in numbers. There was safety in hiding behind others, or more accurately for the robber priest, using them as meatshields, and having them do the hard work whilst you move in unseen for... whatever it is you're going to do, be it to kill or pickpocket the target in question. Or better yet, in the former case, to have them kill the target for you, and so eschew your effort in a way they may not realise is applicable to you in the heat of the moment. "I was fighting, it's hardly my fault you missed my doing so, and for somebody of my meager experience I dare say it was near-masterful", and so on and so forth. That sort of misleading kerfuffle.

@POOHEAD189@The Fated Fallen@Banana@Fetzen@Sypherkhode822@Ink Blood

The Skayleigh with the troublesome name had been in a mood that would have allowed him to admit to himself that it wasn't very good. The prospect of picking up yet another traveler with hardly any checks for both good intent and worthyness for the journey ahead didn't appeal to him. Who the hell was she ? Buckling knees and her general impression did not exactly match his image of a powerful sorceress, nor did the lack of a bow or bulging muscles that would have been anywhere near the half-elf's extreme standards allow for an alternative interpretation than that she appeared to be quite lost here.

Thus, An-Hasst's comparatively unfriendly approach had only partly been due to the dagger in Mag's hands. He had hoped to have an opportunity to scrutinize her or maybe even make such efforts unnecessary in the first place -- by making her not wanting to join them. Then he moved in, the destroyer of all scenarios of intimidation, the one person out of the party the Skayleigh probably could stand the least for exactly what was happening now. While the priest was busy laying out his trail of slime for her to trap into and get stuck so he could fulfill his heroic deed of pulling her out of it and putting her into the helping hands of the others, An-Hasst's eyes sought those of Geradin.

Tell me that you dislike this kind of approach as much as I do, please! Tell me that you want me to kick him into his little but while you do the same to his knees so someone of us can drag him to where the scent of devastation comes from or at least smash his pretty face into the dirt!

Of course there was no way the Skayleigh could know what kind of interpretation the dwarf would draw out of his angered view, but he hoped that it would be something similar to this because that was what he was thinking. An-Hasst was tempted to interrupt Settionne and tell the woman that a thing like a large group hunting a dragon didn't exist and that the priest was grossly exaggerating, but the number of horsetrails would have spoiled this betrayal immediately.

"Settionne! Who has given you the authority to tell everyone about our party and our goals and make everyone an offer to join us without prior reconciliation with the others ? You come with me, now!" An-Hasst's voice was angered and he stared down at the priest. He even bent down slightly to give the much smaller man a better look at his itching grimace while his hand was already tempted to just grab the shoulder in front of him and start dragging.

@POOHEAD189@The Fated Fallen@Banana@BCTheEntity@Sypherkhode822@Ink Blood

"No one man could have done this surely?"

Gaderon vaguely heard the woman speak up as the older man lowered the tip of his trident but not his shield. The man was slightly less weary of him now, but not instantly trusting. That was smart of him. Gaderon returned the favor and lowered the tip of his blade, but kept it held tensely at hid side, ready to pull it back up should thing go south from here.

"It's bloodied from mercy. If you don't want to believe me, check the alleys behind us. You'll find a dog with it's intestines spilled out in front of it. You've spent a lot of time in Bania... I have too. What did you do there...?"

Gaderon was intrigued by the man’s answer of mercy killing a poor hound. He glanced at the bodies nearest him for a moment. Their wounds weren’t from any sort of piercing weapon. They were definitely caused by slashing weapons that tore and ripped their skin open in long gashes rather than precise puncture wounds. Seeing that, Gaderon nodded his head slightly in recognition.

”I have. My whole life before now actually. I hunted those creatures that preyed upon men and found refuge in the dar of night.”

He knew from the moment the words left his lips, he would more than likely be met with skepticism. Many people believed his homeland was home to only monsters and criminals, of which he was neither. Based on the woman’s accent, he was willing to bet she would look upon him with some degree of prejudice and think of him as a necessary evil more than anything else.

The Dwarf would have agreed with An-Hasst's deduction if he understood that was what the Skayleigh was gesturing about. Instead, he thought this Half Elf was glaring at him. Geradin raised a bushy brow, and then glared back, followed by trying the ol' stink eye at An-Hasst. He guessed he won the contest when the Skayleigh pulled the Priest of Fineki away.

Geradin harumphed at the lasses declaration of finding a lost city, and a Dragon. "What would those two have to do with the other. Listen, I know ye don't exactly have street signs to follow out here, but ye could have traveled to a Dwarven Thundrim (Fortress City). Our maps are the best there is. If there's a ruined city, most likely we'd have it in our records." He boasted, placing his ham size fists at his hips and nodding. "Though granted, even to us, the Southland is numerous and untamed. Many of our Thundrims have fallen over the years to Demons, woe betide me race."
@Sypherkhode822@BCTheEntity@Fetzen

---

Argon nodded to Alice, making his way deeper into the ruins of this devastated town, though it was obvious he was merely scouting about. His tongue flicked into the air. At a distance, his powerful body and animalistic movements made him seem like one of the Southland beasts that would have been drawn to the fire and corpses as well. Speaking of which, the smell was getting a bit strong when the wind did not blow...

Beren glanced at this newcomer, regarding him for a moment. Ursaren had not yet answered the Warrior Monk, but he supposed he should have guessed that Gaderon was a Darkslayer. The accent should have given it away, as well as how the man moved. He knew not all Banians were Darkslayers of course, but it was a hint nonetheless.
@The Fated Fallen@Ink Blood@Banana

"... alright," Ursaren muttered before finally stowing away his weapon. He wasn't particularly happy with what he was doing, but he was more content with the scavenger. The old man had his interest piqued when he heard the answer from the scavenger, how he hunted beasts who preyed on men and creatures of the night. He had heard of various groups like this in Bania, however he assumed that this man was a part of the largest coalition of the bunch, the Darkslayers. He never really minded the Darkslayers, as they rarely ever stirred up trouble or killed his kind, but he didn't really trust them as much as he should have. Honestly, he was never concerned with their business as he was often concerned with what he was hired to do.

"I am Ursaren. I was the healer for a diplomat in Bania before he passed," was the next sentence that Ursaren said. He kept a diligent watch over the skies as he spoke to the scavenger and the rest of the group. Honestly, they did deserve to know a sliver of Ursaren's history, and hopefully it would keep them from continually believing he was a hermit. They didn't say it, but the old man could feel that they did. He wasn't a damn hermit, he was a respected member of Banian society!

It was a shame about the lack of numbers that were present at that moment, but hey, they'd learn sooner or later.

'Now, hold on just a moment, sir,' Sett proffered, waving off the Skay-Lay's grasping hand and entering a more formal tone, 'and let me point something out to you: there's no good reason to assume she's some form of, how do you say, spy, or infiltrator. She's certainly-'

He glanced back at her, smiled and waved, then because his conversational partner would probably hit him if he kept going like that, begrudgingly took a few steps away from her, continuing to speak to the tall half-Elf in a rapid semi-whisper: 'She's certainly no Dark Elf or vampire, not at this time of day, and I doubt any slaves of theirs would be given free reign to just wander around without an escort. Or minions? Do they keep... well, both words work. Either way, I doubt she has any allegiance to them, and I imagine that if she shares the goal of dragon finding, then everybody else will agree that it'll be worth our while to keep her around, at least until then.

'And given that we both agreed earlier about dragon finding being a distraction from our proper task- we did agree on that, did we not?' he asked with a quirk of an eyebrow. 'In any case, the sooner it's dealt with, the better, and the more people allied with us, the more likely it is to be dealt with sooner, non?'

@POOHEAD189@The Fated Fallen@Banana@Fetzen@Sypherkhode822@Ink Blood

An-Hasst rolled his eyes. This... monk, priest, stupid man, whatever he was that luckily could simply be summarized with the term Settionne... did not appear to have heard the shot.

"No. Now you hold on for a moment!" The Skayleigh not only used his tremendously long index finger to point at the man's breast, but even put it firmly on it. His voice was nowhere near a semi-whisper, even though one could tell that the Skayleigh at least tried it. "Let me put one thing right, Settionne: Our success could be vital to the survival of these lands. Even remotely detailed information about what we do, where we plan to go, how many we are et cetera et cetera therefore has be handled with great care. Obtaining it should be a privilege of those who really earn it by trustworthyness, authority and necessity, not a right everyone has who's not obviously standing on the abnormal, bad side of things. You however have been making just that out of it since we started! I am willing to tolerate this as long as we all have an agreement about this, but as far as I can remember we don't! The same goes for throwing away invitations to our party! You behaved very selfish! Now what about meeting the others and resolving these questions once and for all ? Do you volunteer or do I have to carry you over there ?"

The Skayleigh didn't hesitate to close onto the other man, ignoring what was happening around him. This man wouldn't dare to do any physical harm to him is he had to fulfill is ultimatum, would he ?

@POOHEAD189@The Fated Fallen@Banana@BCTheEntity@Sypherkhode822@Ink Blood

Mags:

The scene playing out in front of her was so absurd, it almost made her laugh aloud. The three... Companions? Kept talking over each other, with the Dwarf graveling something about how she should just travel to a Dwarven Thunderer(?) and ask them about her city. I suppose he doesn't realize how old this city is.. Or how far traveled this Dragon was supposed to be. The giant had been glaring at her for the entire conversation, and the initial shock of seeing someone big enough to actually throw her across the clearing had finally worn off, and she was now sizing them all up.

Looking a little past them, the girl saw the smoke billowing up from the horizon.

Could that have something to do with the Dragon? It would be good to find out, and I need to get past these people.

Mags stood a few yards away from the short priest and the giant, who were hissing at each other and shooting glances back at her frequently. The priest waved at her, and she smiled weakly in turn, focusing her attention on the billowing smoke above them. Did they not care? She shifted from foot to callused foot, standing next to the sweaty dwarf. Shit. She had seen the rest of their group go towards the smoke. What if they were already speaking to the Dragon?

She needed to speak to that Dragon.

Her heart began to pound like she had been chewing Jocasta nuts, and the exhaustion and aches faded away.

Abruptly, and with that half-feral decision making that happened without any conscious thought, she determined what she had to do, and how she could do it. Taking a brief moment to refasten her knapsack and adjust her necklace, she took in a deep readying breath.

Turning quickly to the Dwarf, she gave another sloppy curtsy, although there was no nervousness or hesitancy now. It was just an instinctual habit, one that lacked the desire to flatter.

"Beg pardon, but I really must get going now."

Her voice was distant, and she had already began moving before she heard a response. She didn't particularly care if she heard one. If there was, she wouldn't have registered it anyways.

Jogging down the path towards the smoking horizon, Mags pictured a swirling multi-hued mosaic in her mind, each vibrant portion as a different mnemonic of the spells she began to ready.
Breaking into a dead sprint, her arms and legs pumped, her slight, wiry frame now revealing it's hidden strength.
As she neared the two arguing men, she made a last minute adjustment in her path, so she was running straight towards Settione. In her head, the mosaic began to pulse wildly.

Vaulting herself into the air, the mosaic crystalized, each part breaking as the syllables of the spell flashed in her head and was hissed out of her clenched teeth.


Agelghug's Characteristic Jump

For any onlooker, it would have looked like an invisible giant had grabbed the girl by the leg and yanked her upwards, rag-dolling her as she was hurtled rather violently into the air. Arms and legs limply flailing as she cartwheeled higher.

The air was knocked out of Mags lungs as she was thrown upwards, entire body spinning, until the tips of her dangling hair was just above the priests (rightside up) head.

Symai's Ebullient Gust

Now it was like the giant, after throwing her into the air, sucker punched the girl directly in the stomach, as a howling gust of wind blasted into her and pushed her forwards, sending her whirring above the heads of the two men.
Mags lips were pulled back from the intensity of the wind, and her eyes clamped shut, and then opened wildly, her vision a blur of greens and browns and startling blues.

Ignored for too long, gravity began to reassert its presence, angry that it's demands had been flagrantly ignored in such a ridiculous display.
Tumbling down, Mags squirmed, trying and failing to find her equilibrium, balance herself. The last glimmering pattern of the mosaic flashed-

Dunexan's Gentle ProtecoH sHIT.

Mags fell hard into a thicket of bushes, her head being jarred against the branches as her knapsack straps dug painfully into her. Her necklace was tangled up around her neck, choking her windpipe. Her ass ached like she couldn't believe. She had scrapes all up and down her legs and arms. She had enough twigs and leaves in her hair to make a nest.
Pulled that one off without a hitch! Fuck.

Dragging herself painfully from the (almost divinely placed) thicket, Mags pulled herself onto the dusty path, a few yards away from Settione and the giant.

Stumbling to her feet, Mags fought a swirling wave of nausea, spitting a gob of blood onto the ground. She had bit down hard on her cheek, and it felt raw.

Why didn't I just run past them? She heard the crackling moving sound that shards of pottery, having survived untold millennia, were crushed and rendered meaningless. Fuck.

Without glancing back, the dazed girl began a staggered jog towards the smoke.

'Frankly, I don't think it's a problem in this case,' Sett countered, in a normal volume and persuasive tone now that the Skayleigh had abandoned privacy. 'She wants to find a dragon. We want to find a dragon. The chances that we'll encounter the same dragon are very high indeed, ergo we'd be meeting up again at that point with no idea of each other's motives anyway. We might as well take her along for the ride, if that's... the... what the...?!'

He'd admit, he was rather alarmed by the sight of a woman charging at him, only to spiral into the air over his head haphazardly, as if propelled by a cannon. First just above him, then horizontally past him and his conversational partner, and finally into some bushes like a maniac, stumbling out with twings in her hair and blood in her mouth. Okay, so that didn't bode quite so well for their future relationship either way... not that it mattered, because she was charging toward the burning village where the rest of the group lay in wait anyway. And he really would get quite upset if Mr. Skay-Lay suggested he had anything to do with that, because to his knowledge, he'd not uttered one word about where the rest of the party was.

'I suppose we're going to meet with the others, then,' he stated firmly, as if it was his idea all along. 'By the way, I didn't quite catch your name earlier, sir. Maybe tell me along the way.' Cavalier and smiling, he turned and began strolling after the woman, assured that they'd probably meet her again with the rest of their party either way, and so feeling no particular need to rush. Besides, if they were fighty about her, his presence would hardly help, aha.

@POOHEAD189@The Fated Fallen@Banana@Fetzen@Sypherkhode822@Ink Blood

The confrontation quickly melted away, as was wont in such a desolate place. The party still remained tense though, whether out of the environment or the company she couldn't say, but she had already mentally moved past any hostilities. "Do you think it worth looking for survivors?" she put forth to no-one in particular. The wind picked up, mercifully pulling the stench away briefly. Though as it ebbed away she couldn't help but feel the overwhelming urge to be gone from here, and even she shivered noticeably. Her willpower for this was wearing thin.

The Queen was very wise to send a small group on this journey, and of them largely hunters and wise folk. She was glad to be amongst those who could hide themselves if need be, from a raiding party akin to what had happened here. She knew her imagination was trying to paint her friends faces on the fallen, but she had disconnected with that sufficiently for now so that no such images reached her eyes.

"If it not worth checking we should get back to our friends, and see to it this attack is noted through official channels. Unless you have something to add, sir...?" she prompted the stranger to offer his name.

@POOHEAD189@BCTheEntity@Banana@Fetzen@Sypherkhode822@Ink Blood

Argon strode back into the clearing of the road where his companions treated with one another. "Friends!" he exclaimed. "I sense something! It smells unsatisfying and something I would very much only eat if I was very very hungry. I believe it is Rogs!" he said. He bared his teeth as he said it, a wild look came upon his reptilian gaze.
Beren had just gotten through with being quite confused at the old man ignoring him. But he perked up, his eyes steeled at the mention of an impending Rog attack.

"Shit, it was an ambush," Beren said, looking to and fro. He saw most of the buildings were just one story. Thinking quickly, he waved Alice to come over to him, and he knelt down, cupping his hands. "Here, head up top. They're be at us in a second." He told her, indicating her lack of armor and magic capabilities will be better suited atop one of the buildings. Just at that moment, eerie howls could be heard echoing off the trees of the forest.

Argon hissed at the sound, and then roared in response. He drew out his Bastard Sword and hefted his shield, banging the two together in a challenge to the coming foes. Whatever Alice decided to do, Beren would still be thinking of these ruined buildings and places to use for defensive positions. That is, until Settione and Mag could be seen far in the distance of the forest path. Or their outlines. Geradin barreled through the bushes with them, as did An-Hasst if he decided to tag along.

"Rogs!" Beren called to them, unhooking his Axe from his sash belt. Geradin's beard bristled, for the race of Dwarves truly hated Gundarogs and their surface kin. "Good!" he cried back, in the mood for butchers work.
@The Fated Fallen@BCTheEntity@Sypherkhode822@Fetzen@Banana@Ink Blood

It took a few seconds for An-Hasst's surprise to turn into a certain feeling of triumph. The very flamboyant, but obviously no less flawed magic of that strange woman that had almost occurred out of nowhere just like herself gave him confirmation that one should not trust everyone just because he looked trustworthy (which Mags had not done in his eyes anyway!). If eyes could speak the stare of his would have told the priest just that.

However there was another chain of events unfolding rapidly at is seemed. The dwarf, let's say, 'tunneled' through the bushes. At close to eight feet the obstacle was far more significant for the half-giant though as there was much more surface area available for any thorns, branches and leaves so impact on. An-Hasst pulled the hood of his armored cloak as deep into his face as he could, barely leaving enough of a slot of vision to navigate.

Worgs ? Did an inhabitant of the Kaelic isles have to know much about that living phenomenon if one was going to kill it anyway ? Well... from a good soldier's and tactician's point of view hell yes, one should! That didn't chance anything about the actual void the Skayleigh's memory returned once asked for information about them. They had to be fierce, ugly and despicable beings though, given the carnage he could now see as he made his way into the ruined village.

He spent a moment to watch what Settionne would be doing ? Would he try to hide behind him or would he pull his weight and fight properly ? He would've never admitted it openly, but actually he now had a vital interest in the priest's survival. Who knew what injuries would need urgent treatment once this was over ? So the decision was made not to try and kick the man's butt if he'd go for the former option.

The watch was a very momentary one though. There was no time to loose to find some suitable defensive position. An-Hasst deeply disliked the fact that they were forced to fight inside this maze of ruins. His crossbow's strengths were enormous firepower and range, but in here the latter advantage was almost completely irrelevant while time for reloading was not. Therefore the Skayleigh didn't bother himself with preparing an initial shot (which wasn't ready not only because of the permanent tension on the bow but also because the thing would've been in permanent danger to be triggered accidentally while being strapped to his back or getting packed), but straightforwardly reached for the two long bajonets. Being the impersonation of size and muscle he was the Skayleigh looked like he'd try to fight his way out using brute force.

@The Fated Fallen@BCTheEntity@Sypherkhode822@POOHEAD189@Banana@Ink Blood

Gundarogs. Why'd it have to be 'rogs? Ursaren had fought these jokers before, and he knew getting swarmed by them would lead to being overwhelmed and near death. He'd been down that road a long time ago, and he wasn't going to let it happen. Especially not to any of the nice fellows of the group around him. The old man uttered a very low growl as he stood towards the oncoming ambush, his heart racing. Ursaren had a deep feeling in his gut that something in this fight was going to go awry, and he was afraid that it would involve him. There was one way that Ursaren thought of that would allow him to stay peaceful in the fight. His trident and shield were lowered, although they were still armed, and he turned to face Beren in order to speak.

"I can make this a whole lot easier, if you want."

Of course, the Skayleigh hadn't given Sett his name when asked, so he'd still be "my friend the Skayleigh", no matter how much of a friend he really was. That said, Geredin the Dwarf did a much better job of doing things, charging ahead of the two, forcing Sett to follow at running pace, and even barging his way through much thick undergrowth behind whatever trail Mags had forged. Simple enough for even an overlarge Half-Giant to pass through, let alone a thin and much more agile human priest. He assumed he was more agile anyway, for Giants are rarely agile. He believed. They were Giants, after all.

Though honestly, he'd rather have stayed where Mags was. The village they'd found their way to was not exactly a sight for sore eyes, regardless of how many team members existed within its bound right now, and the imminent appearance of... Rogs, was it? Well, that just reeked of pain for the priest. He wasn't exactly a lover, but he was certainly no fighter at that. And whilst he'd rather avoid drawing his weapons, he knew practically when he came here that he'd have to give it a shot at some point in the future... besides, it wasn't like he could hide in any of those burnt-out ruins, so try to defend himself it was. And besides, it'd be combat practice for the Dark Elves when they finally got round to that.

With his offhand, he pulled his combat dagger, clean of rust and not easily damaged by time. And with his mainhand he drew forth his primary weapon, that item which had gotten him into this situation in the first place: the valdium shortsword, a weapon of great offensive power against magical beasts. Were Rogs counted as magical beasts? He didn't have a clue, but it'd certainly kill them as stone dead as any civilised being either way. Even as he drew his weapons, he could hear the creatures coming closer, and even some fighting going on, and readied himself for whatever might happen, keeping his weapons in what he figured was probably a good offensive stance, sword frontward and dagger back ready to fly forward at a moment's notice. Yeah, that would probably do the job just nicely, if he found himself assaulted by Rogs.

Mags

Mags tottered closer to the village, her head thudding with a dull headache that matched the soreness of her body.
Walking up what would have been recently the main road into the town, Mags saw several wrecked stalls where vendors had obviously sold their goods. Bile rose in her throat when she saw the disemboweled corpse of an old woman lying limp on a dusty rug, flies buzzing headily around the body.
This isn't the work of a dragon..
Then who? Bandits? It would be strange for bandits to raze a town so thoroughly. An evil sorcerer? Maybe if this was a tale told late at night, perhaps.
Entering the relative shade of the buildings around her, Mags had to step delicately past strewn wreckage, forcing herself to avoid staring at the bodies that had been hacked apart.
Slinking past a still smoldering wagon, she realized that the only thing that separated this from the other ruins she scavenged was time. She preferred it when all the bodies were dusty skeletons.
Coughing from the smoke, Mags reached for her water skin, only to remember it was empty. When had she last drank water? No wonder her head was pounding, she was dehydrated. And, judging by the gnawing ache in her stomach, long overdue to eat something as well.
Mags had just rounded a street corner, and saw a dangling wooden sign of a boar attached to a two story building. An inn.
And remarkably intact, as well. The only real sign that something was amiss was the dead body clutching a shattered bow and had a caved in skull. Walking up the dusty steps, she didn't have the slightest stirring of guilt over taking food and water from the dead. She had been doing it all her life, the only thing that was different was that these people had died recently.
The doors to the inn had been propped open, and she stepped through, blinking as she tried to adjust to the darkness inside the building.

The tables and chairs between the door and the bar at the far end of the room had been knocked over, scattered dice and cups lay on the ground. It looks like everyone had left the inn in a rush when the attack started.
Crossing the room, Mags went behind the bar, scanning the bottles and clay jars that held the eye wateringly stiff moonshine that was common in remote human settlements like these.
Shoved in one corner of the bar was a squat barrel with a scratched metal dipper laid across it's wooden lid. Aha!
Scrabbling with the barrel, she dragged off the lid and plunged the dipper into the almost sweet smelling water. Barely pausing to lift it to her head, she drank the entire dipper before plunging it back into the water. Pouring the water over her head, Mags lost grasp of time for several blissful minutes as she drank and washed herself.

The sounds of a cackling war cry pulled the girl from her reverie.

Are those.... Rogs?

She had dealt with Rogs in the past. She could do it again.

Alice snapped herself to attention at the Lizardman's calls, and thanked Ragnarok quickly that he had joined with them. She quickly brought her weapons to bear and started moving to hide when Beren shouted for her. Seeing his plan quickly and aware of her own weaknesses, she scrabbled up onto a nearby overlook. It might have been a balcony once, but the railings and stairs leading up to it were gone making it a not-too taxing effort to clamber onto. More to her advantage it offered enough protection to leap behind when she was inevitably spotted, magic was very good at drawing attention.

She shouted down her thanks to the monk below her, and tried to take stock of the situation. Her ears were not as sharp as the Lizardman's so she couldn't source them yet, but if she had to bet on a direction for them to approaching from, it would be from the tight press of buildings off the plaza, where they would be covered from her allies missile fire for the longest time. She quickly grabbed a good weighted rock for throwing. Instead of drawing it back just yet though, she crouched down, wand in hand and started to carve upon it two glowing symbols (and five dots). As with all magic of it's sort, it could take weeks of dedicated practice to even carve correctly for the first time, let alone perfectly every time, but in this she could handle herself like a master. Time crawled to a halt with her every exacting movement, her craftsman's focus shutting out everything else as that small rock slowly became something greater than the sum of it's parts. In all honesty it was a fairly simple spell, but it could mean all the difference.

@Fetzen@BCTheEntity@Sypherkhode822@POOHEAD189@Banana@Ink Blood

The howls of the approaching Worgs drew closer and closer, as well as the filthy chittering of the Rogs. It was apparent they had breached through the ruined townscape, searching through the buildings and alleyways for prey. From the screams, it seemed one or two townsfolk had hidden from whatever had destroyed the town, only to be found by the Rogs. Beren flexed his hands, as if he was getting ready to strangle or grapple any foe that came near, though he looked a bit confused by Ursaren. "What are you talking about?"

Beside them in the street, Argon and Geradin made ready. The Lizardman hefted his shield and large bastard sword, roaring a challenge at the approaching monsters. Geradin in turn began a prayer, his words were deep and seemed to echo far more than they should have. His hammer began to glow with a brilliant ray of light much like the sun's. The two stood shoulder to hip with Beren and Ursaren, and anyone else who had joined them to hold the street. Luckily they didn't need to worry too much on alleyways, with only two close by and both led behind them from where the Rogs were not attacking from.

Suddenly, a nearly crumpled building finally collapsed down the street from some unseen blow of incredible proportions. A Troll waded into the street as the dust billowed, crying out a roar as it dragged a collapsed tree as a club. Moments later, Rogs streamed out of the streets from behind it. The creatures were slightly shorter than a man, but still quite dangerous. Their armor was splint mail and leather, and they wielded notched and jagged scimitars and axes, with a few short spears about the height of An-Hasst.

Roughly half a dozen Rogs, and two Worgs the size of large dogs made it ahead of the rest of the horde, charging at the adventurers holding the street. Two arrows flew at Alice, though they flew past her harmlessly. Perhaps they will be better shots next time, however... The Troll stepped ontop of a Rog, crushing the humanoid as it waded forward recklessly. It was a stooped beast, only a small bit taller than An-Hasst and Argon from eye level. Of course, if it stood to its full height it would be easily a head taller than either.

Luckily for Mags, the adventurers out her door were keeping the Rogs occupied, allowing her to give some sort of surprised attack. If she played her cards right, of course.
@The Fated Fallen@Sypherkhode822@BCTheEntity@Banana@Fetzen

"I'd explain, but I'll let it do the talking." Now was not the time to speak. Now was the time for action, dammit, and things got even more tense with this Troll coming on into the fight. Ursaren just had to hope for the time being that his comrades around him would be supportive of his true power.

The old man put away his trident and shield, placing the two things onto his knapsack, as he walked forward towards the Troll. As he stepped, his size began to change as he grew, his size quickly reaching up to the height of An-Hasst, if only a few inches shorter at most. The old man began to sprout brownish-grey fur all over his frame, and sharp claws on what were once his hands. His face started to distort as he grew bearlike features, even including the snout and ears. What was once a burly old man now stood a large bear, guarded by a blue tunic as he stared directly into the face of the Troll in front of him, his muzzle opening to speak. What was heard by the others could only be described as a dry, deep, and aged voice, one that struck fear into the nearby Gundarogs, causing them to back away from the Werebear and the Troll.

"Fight 'rogs. Ursa get Troll." came out of the werebear, his stance changing to show that he wasn't playing around. Old Ursa ran forward, clawing at the chest of the large beast, sending him backwards and causing him to flatten a few more 'rogs, their blood mixing with the blood of the already-fallen. The werebear looked back at his friends and bellowed a mighty "GO!" as he returned to his fight against the Troll.