NationStates Jolt Archive

The spring rains were beginning to pass it was said, although Thyrm of Osilon was finding it hard to believe that as he paced anxiously inside the house of Jalriss Cairn, dripping water on the expensive carpets. Cairn was a renouned Avalean merchant, a former explorer who had mapped out may of the rivers and lakes on the frontier, the rewards he received from the Palace for his extensive charting of the region allowed him a lavish retirement in Osiloná.

The man now made a living outfitting and advising similar expeditions across the lands formerly ruled by the elves and beyond into unexplored territories. It was the latter that Thyrm was interested in and Jalriss Cairn was one of the best people around to get him there. A shame that he claimed he was too old to travel.

The tinkling of a bell announced the merchant's entrance, preceded by a human servant wearing smart clothes and with a small dagger belted at his waist, the outfit practically shouting I am not a slave! The old elf's face lit up as he recognised his guest, who was by now one of his best customers.

"Ahhh, Thyrm! How are you? How goes your planning?"

It was hard not to be swept along by Cairn's enthusiasm, the elf was positively bouyant with it.

"I am well, thank you. The expedition is still on schedule, we'll be in the mountains within a month and the jungle a little after that."

The merchant's smile faded, as the young noble had expected.

"I do not understand why you wish to visit the jungles, your father is only interested in the mountains in that area. I have been checking around with my colleagues and they all agree, no expeditions into that region have ever returned home."

Thyrm had to mask his irritation, the merchant had clearly been to see his father. The reason for the expedition was to survey a section of mountains unclaimed by the dwarves and west of Avalea's borders. Iron was what they were looking for mostly, the kingdom had never been rich in the ore and importing it was expensive. Beyond that, adventurers often brought back tales of gold and monsters in the hills, a temptation few red-blooded youths could resist.

"You know I have my own reasons for wanting to see the jungles. We know nothing of what they contain, there could be whole new resources or creatures left completely untapped."

The old elf sighed, "We have been down this road before and I know I cannot convince you to deviate. Who travels with you?"

"Father is sending along some geologists to survey the mountains, I am taking all twenty of my personal guard along as well. I put word out amongst the taverns that I'm seeking further companions, everyone should have the opportunity to see the wonders that lie beyond our borders."

Jalriss just shrugged, "Well, send them to me when they sign up."

He caught the look on the younger elf's face and laughed, "So I can kit them up for the journey, not so I can dissuade them from joining you! I have your tents and camping supplies in my storeroom now, but the blacksmith is still keeping me waiting on spare shoes for the mounts..."

With that he was off again, bustling off into his shop to collect the myriad of items he throught his young customer would need on the journey.

The gates to the city opened as a bright, white horse entered at a trot into view. Although a long, green cloak hide the rider's profile, save for the quiver of arrows on his back, the Guards had no doubt who it was.

As the horse entered the city and stopped just within the gate boundries, the figure slowly and careful slipped from his saddle and began to pat the horse on the side, muttering praise in an unknown language.

Once the figure had turned to face city, he began to remove his cloak, revealing a shiny, silvery armour and equally as silvery hair. He was far taller than any of the Avaleans who walked about around him. His eyes were green but at the same time full of hardness and the experience of a hundred battles.

He took his bow from a special carrier on his saddle and set off to look for the Merchant he had been sent to accompany. There were many such Merchants in Avalea, far more than in his native lands where the four tribes had decided that their main focus lay to the north east and Morthas as opposed to the squabbling Kingdoms of the south, east and west. Let them have their petty wars, the Athlas remembered what was important in this world.

He climbed the streets in search of the Merchant who he had been told would not be far from the palace, it wasn't difficult to see over the other buildings

"Excuse me" he hailed one of the passing citizens in a gruff voice, "Where can I find the merchant, Jalriss Cairn?"

The mysterious Althan elf was met at the door to Jalriss Cairn's shop by the same smartly dressed manservant. The human seemed to scowl slightly as he took in the height of the elf, he knew that the tall elves of the east still commonly practiced slavery and mistreated many of his brethren. Nonetheless, he was trained and paid well enough to remember his manners.

"How can I help you, sir? Jalriss Cairn has no more appointments today but I'm sure he would be happy to receive you if you would give me your name?"

The Elf noticed his dislike and stiffened

"I am frmo the lands of Athlas and I have been sent by the Elders of the Laidar to accompany Jalriss Cairn on his journey westwards. We have had no contact with the west since the defeat of Morthas 600 years ago. I am here to act as a scout and protector" he pointed to his bow.

The servant stood his ground, answering gruffly.

"Jalriss Cairn has no trips planned anywhere, I believe you may be seeking his young client, Thyrm of House Osilon. If you will not give me your name than I cannot be of further assistance though, I'm afraid."

"Very well, I am Dean of Incendia, expert Archer and Pathfinder and if it is his son that I seek then so be it" His instantly became more polite "Would you kindly show me to his location?" he asked calmly.

The human smiled uneasily.

"I would be happy to show you to the training grounds, that is where Thyrm spends most of his days preparing for his journey. He is actually the son of the Lord of the city, so you had best mind your manners around him, if only for appearances sake. The young Osilon is quite a hellraiser I hear."

"I thank you" he gave a slight bow and followed the servant through the city, wrapping his cloak around his armour and bow to conceal it. What could not be concealed were the quivers of arrows or the helmet he wore, identifying him as an Athlan Elf whether he wanted it to or not. His height gave him away as well, He was about 6'6'', average height for the Athlas.

The servant led them quickly through the city streets, eventually arriving on a large patch of open grass of which one end was occupied by straw dummies used for archery and sword practice. The rest of the ground appeared to be some sort of drilling ground, at least this was what was going on at the moment. Twenty elves in the gaudy blue and yellow colours of Osilon were sparring slowly with swords and shields, a younger elf in ornate half-plate armour strode amongst them examining technique.

As he caught sight of them he called out a command and the fighters snapped back to normal speed, swords and shields flashing in the dimming light of the afternoon. After the manservant had introduced the new arrival he made excuses and returned hurriedly back the way he had came, leaving the two of them alone at the edge of the field.

The young elf offered his hand to the larger, "Greetings, Dean of Incendia. I'm Thyrm of House Osilon, just call me Thyrm."

He gestured after the retreating servant, "Hektor tells me you wish to journey with us?"

"Indeed, Thyrm" Dean used the name a bit uncormfortably. It was traditional in the Athlas lands to address superiors by their full titles, "I have been sent to see how the western world has changed in 600 years. We have not ventured beyond our forests in that time for fear of attack. Morthas is still strong" he said bitterly.

"You train your Elves as Archers?" he asked innocently, spying the targets, "I would be greatly honoured to see how your Archers handle a bow" he said in a plain statement.

The young elf shook his head, "They are warming down for the afternoon now. Perhaps you would like to dine with me in the palace? We can discuss your role on the expedition."

He nodded
"Very well" he said, permitting himself a small smile, he had really wanted to show off his own skills against the other bowmen. But he had not eaten in days and he would be grateful for a full meal.

The Athlan elf was probably surprised when Thyrm led him past the vast dining hall of the palace and into a long but thin room. The air was dimmer and thicker here, lit by torches rather than the covered lanterns used elsewhere in the vast house. Trestle tables were spread out across the floor with maps and parchments strewn across them, equipment littered the sides and corners of the room.

"Used to be a mess hall for the slaves when grandfather kept them," Thyrm explained. "When my father paid them off we found that the house could run with half the workforce, if it was made up of paid servants. Since then it's been used for all sorts, until we cleaned it up and turned it into a planning room."

"WE cleaned it up?" A female voice echoed from the far end of the room, which was shrouded in almost total darkness. "I believe you instructed me to burn most of what was in here."

A figure emerged from the gloom, wearing the traditional fiery red robes of an Avalean adept.

"Karitha Brightsky at your service."

The elf bowed and stepped forward, allowing Dean to see her properly for the first time. Possessing the traditional short, slender figure of an Avalean, she retained the lighter skin and shockingly pale eyes that were classic marks of elven beauty. She also looked young, about the same age as Thyrm, although she spoke with far more assurance and maturity.

The young noble looked surprised at the sudden appearance of his companion, but quickly recovered his manners.

"May I present Dean of Incendia? He is an archer and pathfinder hailing from the Athlan people." Thyrm's stomach rumbled slightly and he blushed, "I'll just go and see about getting us some food."

Dean scowled as he heard of the slaves. Athlan did not like to enslave any living creature and so they kept no cattle and their horses were only used with their own conscent.

But he knew his place and bowed to the woman as she entered

"I am honoured to meet you" he said in a polite tone.

Karitha caught Dean's reaction to the comment about slaves, it was something they could discuss later, she thought.

"A pleasure to meet you also, I'm sorry the place looks such a mess."

She waved a hand at the back of the room, causing extra candles and torches to light.

"Better, now let me tell you a little about the expedition. Thyrm may be heading it but his father appointed me to make sure we stick to the objectives."

She beckoned to the first of the trestle tables, on which a map showed the western border of Avalea and the lands beyond. She indicated the mountains to the west of the border.

"We're headed into the lands of the Tidan dwarves first, since the coastal borderlands tend to still be muddy and impassable at this time of year. We'll use their tunnels, or go overland if they refuse us access, to head northwest and into the unclaimed part of the mountains."

"There we get to dig up bits of ground, weigh them and burn them." Thyrm finished for her as he entered the room again. "We sit on our backsides while the surveyors compile a report for Father on whether he should claim the land for its minerals. They get paid by the page you know?"

"You're planning to mine the land?"

Dean looked uncomfortable

"But we are going under the mountains of the Tidan?"

Dean nodded, "The Athlas and the Tidan have strong bonds stretching back over 600 years, I think we could arrange that"

"We'll manage to convince them to let us pass, I'm surprised they haven't claimed the land as it is." Karitha shook her head at the plate of food proferred to her and continued. "The worst thing we'd have to fear is bandits in the hills, apart from his-" she jerked a thumb at Thyrm, "desire to see the jungles just beyond them."

Thyrm of Osilon nodded enthusiastically, "that's why I'm looking for elves like you, Dean. I believe the only reason nobody comes out of those jungles is simply that they aren't prepared for the conditions and native creatures inside."

Across the table, Karitha was shaking her head slowly but he ignored her and continued. "I've been consulting with Jalriss Cairn to get us the best equipment and guidance money can buy, but a real scout on the ground with us would be invaluable."

Dean looked even more uncomfortable

"During the war of the Elven Alliance" he began, "Many of the forests were burned down by Orc Armies, seeking to remove our advantage. It did them no good of course but besides the point, many of the creatures of Athlas fled to these jungles while their comrades perished. There are many monsters in those jungles I hoped I would never see again"

He shivered violently, memories of the vast monsters in Athlas filling his mind.

Thyrm looked incredulous.

"That was six hundred years ago! Besides, we won't be burning it down, merely taking a look around. Think of the information we'll be gathering, there could be plants and animals we've never seen before in there. The benefits could be enormous."

(OOC: Just a comment. If you go through the mountains then you'll arrive behind the forests in my valley type thing(unless you stay at the mountain peeks and go around them digging till you get to the jungles near the coast) else you won't find a jungle, you'll find a heavily fortified city. Less fun to just kill you quickly, I wanna stalk you in trees.:))

Thyrm looked incredulous.

"That was six hundred years ago! Besides, we won't be burning it down, merely taking a look around. Think of the information we'll be gathering, there could be plants and animals we've never seen before in there. The benefits could be enormous."

"I was not referring to you burning it down" Dean said "I was referring to the hundreds of Athlan Monsters who made those Jungles their home once the old forests were destroyed"

(OOC: Just a comment. If you go through the mountains then you'll arrive behind the forests in my valley type thing(unless you stay at the mountain peeks and go around them digging till you get to the jungles near the coast) else you won't find a jungle, you'll find a heavily fortified city. Less fun to just kill you quickly, I wanna stalk you in trees.:))

OOC: Noted, I'll take them north onto the coastal flatlands and then west into the jungle that way.

IC:

Thyrm looked slightly chastened, but his enthusiasm was hard to counter.

"We won't be disturbing anything, I imagine most of those monsters will have died out by now. We leave in two days as it is, so if you are joining us then you had best head off to see Jalriss in the morning to collect what gear you need."

In reply, Dean walked to his horse, which had been brought up for him, and removed the bundle from his back

Inside was food, Silver, segmented Athlas Armour and a beautiful sword, ornately carved with decorations of trees and old Athlas sayings. On his belt he already had a small knife, some needle and thread, a fire starter and emergency medical supplies. He knew by heart where the best herbs could be found and what they did.

On the edge of the jungle, just before the mountains began (or ended, depending on your point of view) was a small clearing, where the sun shown through the trees. The animals that were smart enough avoided the place whenever they could. Natives considered it bad mojo.

A troop of baboons ran up to the clearing and stopped. They were in a panic, and had run blindly to the edge of the place. The reason soon became obvious as a giant amoeba gushed through the forrest after them, surrounding and devouring any chutes unlucky enough to be in its path as it went.

Looking frantically about them, they quickly realized that they had nowhere else to go but in. One by one, each went to the nearest opening in the trees. They were running out of room. It was a simple choice: wait and be devoured or walk into the clearing. One by one, each rushed through--and vanished without a trace.

Slowly, deliberately, the giant amoeba flowed up to the clearing...and stopped, as if it had run into something solid. Then, with a soft gurgle, it pushed its way in between the same two trees that the baboons had all gone through, until it, too, had vanished.

There was a loud roar followed by a soft grinding sound that lasted for several seconds. When it stopped, the baboons popped back out of the clearing--and ran as fast as their legs could carry them. They had good reason. Amoeba juice was oozing back out of the opening between the trees. Even though it was dead, it was still quite acidic.

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OOC: Thought I'd elaborate on one or two of those "died off" species of monster. But what horror must it be that resides within the clearing?

One hint: he's a player character.

OOC: does somebody object to my posting or something? I already TG'ed Naasha and got permission. Besides, my character lives on the edge of the jungle. He won't be doing anything until the other characters get there. It shouldn't affect any other lines of posting for some time.

Maybe you'd like to know what you're dealing with?

IC:

Inside the clearing, life was signifigantly different. Nothing was as it appeared from the outside. An elaborate illusion ringed the clearing, making it appear to be desolate. Nothing could have been farther from the truth.

In the center, a great tree rose taller than any that surrounded it. Visible only from the air, the tree had been grown into a dwelling--places for a door and windows showed, but instead of being cut into the tree, they had bark growing on them, and hinges for the door had grown out of the tree. Beside the tree, under a window on its lower level, a small garden of brilliant, red flowers soaked in the magestic sunshine. Farther out, a small vegetable garden abutted the side of a roasting pit.

A Red Gargoyle Demon--similar in size and shape to a human, but posessing wings and a tail--strode gingrely on sandaled feet through the door. He was dressed lightly, but a brilliant blue-and-green print on his shirt set off his dark red skin and cole-black eyes. As he entered the house, a female of his species, dressed in a brightly-colored mumu and a gold circlets about her neck and wrists (those of the demons' culture would know that this--and the less prominant but nonetheless present gold pendant that the male demon wore--indicated marriage). He walked over to her, brought his clawed hand up to her cheek, and indulged, with her, in a long, sensuous kiss. His free hand reached down and stroked her bulging abdomen. She was with child.

"Mmmmm," she said. "Honey, did anything go wrong? I heard a funny noise."

He chuckled. "Nope. Nothing wrong. Just a little clean-up job."

A look of alert spread over her features.

"Something got through the defenses?" she asked.

"Well...yes and no. A giant amoeba drove a troop of baboons into the garden. I teleported the baboons away and deflated the amoeba. I doubt that either will ever be back."

"Oh," she replied, her features relaxing. "Good. Where were we?"

He smiled. "I believe that we were--."

The rest of the sentence was lost in another long, sensuous kiss.

"Getting reaquainted?" she asked.

"Took the words right out of my mouth," he replied with a smile.

"Daaaaooood?" The word was spoken by a small male of the species. Dressed in a loincloth, he stood at the stairs, where they curved around.

The demon looked up. "Yes, Demmie," he said. "Demmie" was short for "Demonicus Primericus," a rather auspicious but accurate name. Demmie was the first born of a new species. In the Old Days, Red Gargoyles would reproduce by laying eggs in hosts' bodies. This led to more than a few conflicts. These ones--Marvel, the husband and Telsa, the wife--had undergone a magical transformation. Now, they were standard mammals. Of course, this was not widely known, which made for conflict with local tribes of human, elf and whatnot, but, in its own way, it made life easier for the new family. Generally, when they learned what had happened, others tended to leave Marvel and his family alone rather than attempting to drive them out of existence.

"Can we go flying again today?"

Marvel smiled. "Of course," he said. "Go upstairs and I'll be along just as soon as I get done saying goodbye to your mom."

"OK." With a smile and, a yelp, and a flap of his fledgling, bat-like wings, Demmie started up the stairs. It wouldn't be long now before he could fly on his own, and Marvel knew that, if he was to take to the skies as was his birthright, he would have to be acquainted with them before the time came, so that he would have no fear.

"Well...," Telsa said, "I suppose that duty calls."

"One of them," Marvel replied, still smiling.

"Ooo, you're just too much. I'll see you at lunch time. Go play with your son."

Marvel stepped back an bowed, sweeping a hand out to the side. "Yes, mistress," he said.

"Yeah--you just remember that one, OK?"

"Certainly, m'love. You'll never leave my heart." And, with that, Marvel lept to the stairway and bounded up the stairs, taking three steps at a time, giggling "I'm gonna git you" all the way.

OoC: How high fantasy and Low low tech.


OOC: You need to head over to the sign up thread. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=543258&highlight=Naasha)

IC: Thyrm crammed the rest of the food into his mouth and hurried after Dean, inspecting his horse admiringly.

"Well, you came prepared at least. I guess we can set out in the morning if there is nothing else you need?"

"There is not" he said flatly and stroked his horse's side again for a few more minutes. The horse seemed to respond by rubbing his head against Dean. In the Athlas, the Horses chose the riders, not the other way around.

The following morning was a bright and sunny one, the crisp morning air washing away the taints of the braziers that burn throughout the city at night. A group of twenty five riders clattered down the main street, all clad almost identically in the blue and yellow of Osilon House apart from a taller rider wearing the journeying clothes of the Athlan.

Along with the twenty House guards provided by his father, Thyrm was accompanied by two surveyors of the noble household, who would inspect their route for precious ores and the most precious of all, iron. Avalea lacked any significant iron reserves and the elves were becoming tired of paying ever steeper prices for it from the Tidan and the easterners.

The gates ahead of them opened smoothly outwards, allowing them passage out of the city and through the crowds of well-wishers onto the western roads.

Dean watched the crowds cheer and wave as Thyrm departed the city. These people didn't even know him that well and yet they mourned his departure like a brother. Dean remembered when he had departed his village to take up his place on this trip. His entire clan had lined up and one by one bid him farewell. Even the village elders had been humble enough to clasp his shoulder and wish him the strength of the fire on his travels. Dean smiled at that memory as his stallion maintained it's position in the column on the road.

Karitha also took heart from the elves that had turned out to wave them off, she had a sneaking suspicion that some of them may have been there simply to gain favour with the young noble at the head of the column and his influential father, but the effect was bolstering to their morale nonetheless.

The group were soon out onto a paved road that ran away into the west, the ground around them was soft, the soil saturated at this time of the year. It only seemed to get wetter as they travelled west, the elves soon pulling up their oiled travelling cloaks for protection from the sweeping wind and rain. It was beginning to grow dark when they stopped for the night, setting up camp beside a lake which spilled away to the northwest, its waters swelled by the rainy season.

"That's why we're going over the mountains," Thyrm explained, "the northern trails are either impassable or flooded this time of year."

"No more civilisation until we reach the border forts in a day or so, either," Karitha pointed out as the guards began to erect tents for them all. "After that we have wilderness until we hit the dwarven settlements in the mountains."

"wilderness I can handle" Dean said as he set up his own tent, "It is what dwells in those forests that I am worried about" His horse, untethered as always, trotted up and down the camp in the rain, keeping the blood flowing around it's legs before it stopped for the night.

Thyrm grunted in acknowledgement.

"Nothing much out here that can bother us yet, you get a few wolves this time of year but nothing more until we cross the border."

"Indeed" Dean finished putting his tent up and sat back, satisfied that he was done and that it was strong enough to repel the most fiercesome storm. He moved off to prepare a fire and cook a meal he had prepared earlier in the day.

It was two days later that they finally crossed the border, marked by a solitary fort that guarded the trail leading west toward the mountains of the dwarves. The rain that still lashed down had delayed them and made the trip rather uncomfortable ever since they had broken camp from the lakeside. The elven horses were fidgety, unsure of their footing in the damp conditions and unhappy at leaving the lands they knew, but their riders pressed onwards, seeking to find shelter with the Tidan dwarves who ruled the lands they would have to cross.

Dean's horse, too was jumpy, but he and the rider had been togather for many years and knew each other well. He would follow Dean to the gates of Morthas if he had too.
They were heading for the Dwarves of Tidan. Long ago, the Athlan Elves and Tidan dwarves had fought side by side but relations had cooled since then. Neither party bothered the other.

The sun shown brightly on the green and silver of the late-spring treetops. Marvel and Telsa flew above them, fingers touching, in tight formation, almost as a single entity.

She had tried to make him chase her, but the baby on the way had proven to be too much of a drain. Engineered as precision arobats, Red Gargoyles tended to tire easily in flight, and the child inside her had left her exhausted after only a few little turns. She had almost ended up face first in a birch.

Marvel had saved her, and he had carried her up into the sky, higher than she'd ever been--almost, it seemed, to the bottom of one of the playful nimubs clouds that dotted the sky. There, he had embraced her, folded his wings around her body and gone into a power dive, almost until the treetops claimed them again, spreding his powerful, leathery wings and pulling out just in time. She had screamed and laughed, and held on and kissed him passionately as he flew her casually back toward home. Eventually, she had spread her own wings again, and he had released her back into the sky that was as much her birthright as it was his.

The noise almost startled them. Coming from the ground, it wasn't very loud. Nevertheless, to their feral hearing, it was quite plain: two men were having their way with a woman, and it was quite against her will.

"Go home," Marvel said. "I'll take care of this."

"Not on your life," Telsa replied. "We have to help her."

Marvel smiled. "That's what I like about you," he said. "Heart of a lion."

"Uh huh."

"Well, my little lioness, what do you say we sneak up on 'em and spoil their fun?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," she replied. And then, she lowered her wing sheaths and descended gently toward a nearby treetop.

"No--wait--," he stammered, but it was too late. She'd spooked a troop of lemurs--a male and his harem--that were browsing the tree. Monkey calls were everywhere, and, boy, could the little rascals move when they wanted to!

"So much for the element of surprise," he said.

After some time they arrived at a well worn road passing through the foothills. This particular road lead up to the gates of Thainetor, the eastern dwarf hall. As they followed this road up to the foot of the mountain range, they may have seen some of the dwarf woodsmen who watched their movement from above slopes and hillsides. Finally after a few days they came to the gate. Here the massive stone slabs stood shut, and a mighty horn blew from somewhere around it. This blast was followed quickly by a shout.

"Who be yee, and what business do yee have at our doors?"

When he'd seen what he was dealing with, the story became strange. These weren't men trying to get some from that woman, they were orcs! Normally, orcs are under the same biological directives as the rest of us: they thought of their own species as worth having sex with and every other species as too ugly for the privalege. What would cause these two to seek out a human had Marvel completely mystified!

Either way, it had to be stopped before it started a war. Humans tended to look down upon the act of interfering with their females. They tended to send war parties of five or more heavily-armed males in to "solve the problem." This was the last thing that Marvel would need while he was out flying with the wife and the kid.

Invisibly, he flew down to the forest floor and, landing a short distance away, droped his illusions. Summoning his best, friendliest smile, he said, "Hey, guys, how's tricks?"

All three of them looked up at him in surprise. "Wot yew be wontin' wit' our girl?" one of them finally asked.

Marvel kept his smile as one of them tried to flank him. "Oh, nothing much. You know us demons, always looking to spread a little mayhem. Thought I might make a few images to show off to the little lady. You know, we always appreciate a little hot action. I can make it worth your while." Of course, it was all lies--and Marvel made certain that they knew it. Even an orc understood that, if a Red Gargoyle was contemplating sex, it usually meant that they'd end up with a belly full of demon eggs. They also understood that the venomous spine on his tail could inject them with something that would keep them high as a kite for several days--as the degenerative enzymes kicked in and digested them from the inside out. The girl seemed to catch the nuances, too. She stared on in horror. As the demon spoke, the one who was moving found himself smacking straight into a force wall.

"We're not interested in wot your kind 'as to offer," the orc by the girl said. "Now bugger off, before we make it our bizzness to bugger you AND your little lady."

Marvel took on a look of mock sorrow. "Now, that's not very friendly," he said, "not very friendly at all."

His little quip was cut short by a scream from within the woods. It was Tess! They must've had a scout in the bushes! He'd told her to be careful.

As Marvel turned his head toward the sound, the orc by the girl stood up and the one off to the side stepped back from the shield wall. In perfect sync, each produced a daggar from his tattered robes and threw it straight toward the demon. Faster than the eye could see, they homed in on their target.

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OOC:

Consider this a polite bump while I'm waiting for your characters to get to the forrest and meet up with mine.

Marvel didn't even look back. He just raised his hand, fingers extended but together. Both knives stopped in midair, about a thirty centimeters from his body, and spun there. The looks on the orcs' faces changed to abject fear. No fools, these orcs.

Marvel closed his fist, and each of the orcs tensed, as if in the pain of a tight grip. Then, the turned demon thrust his arm up and away from him. Each orc went flying, hitting its own nearby tree, feet about a meter in the air. Finally, the red-skinned mage twirled a finger, and the branches of the trees wrapped neatly around their respective guests, holding them there with the strength of many men.

He tried to feel the life forces of any other members of the orcs' party, but, even with all the noise they had all been making, the forest was so full of life that he couldn't distinguish any. He thought of the girl.

"How many scouts?" Marvel asked.

Silence.

He turned his head to look at her. She was clutching her dress, a shabby brown thing, in fear.

"Come on," he said. "BOTH our lives may depend on this! How many others are there in the woods? Do you know?"

To say that the girl was terrified would be a world-class understatement. Marvel didn't really have time to babysit, but his heart went out to her. He walked slowly over to her and went down on his hams next to her. She, for her part, continued to stare at him with huge, brown eyes and to clutch the tattered robes that she was trying to wear.

"Look," he said softly, "I'm not going to hurt you. In fact, I'm trying to help."

An arrow came out of nowhere and zipped straight toward the girl's head. Its tip bit into an invisible shield and stuck in midair.

"See what I mean?" he asked.

She looked at him. She blinked.

"Now what's your name, sweetie?" the demon-no-more asked.

"Mar-Marla," she stammered.

He smiled a friendly smile. She cringed.

"Well, Mar-Marla," he said, "I need your help. The same orcs who attacked you have also attacked my wife, and I'm not sure what happened to her."

At this, her eyes cast down, and her face filled with a world of sorrow.

"They're...slavors," she said.

"Well," he said, his voice staying soft and comfortable, "that explains what they were trying to do with you. They weren't really interested in you after all, per se. They just wanted to break your will before they sold you."

Another arrow sang through the air. This time, it stopped in the air by Marvel's head. Marvel reached up and grabbed it. "Enough of this nonsense," he said. He looked at the arrow, and rotated its point to the direction from whence it came. "Seek," he said.

It shot out of his hand, back the way it had come. There was a quick yelp and then everything was silent.

"Are there any more?" Marvel asked.

"No," Marla replied. "That was the only one, but there are more at the base camp."

"Then that's where we're going to have to go," he said.

Her pupils re-dialated. "What?" she asked. "But--but--it's SWARMING with them! You'll never get within a hundred yards of them! They'll cut you to shreds, magic or no. They've got a battle mage with 'em, ya know!"

Marvel smiled. "In that case, I'm going to need you to keep a LITTLE BITTY SECRET."'

As he spoke, his features began to alter. By the time he had finished, he was the spitting image of one of the orcs who had tormented the girl only moments before.

"Naow," he said, in the same exact voice with the same exact gruff accent that the orc had used, "wot you saey we gets back b'fore ye starts...losin' ya value?" There was a sly look on the "orc's" face as he spoke those last words.