Port Lorrel- Prison Break

[Jack Rothwell]

Aleron tapped the floor with his cane and a barrier sprang up around the man, which deflected the magic bolt with a crackling noise. Eli, meanwhile, pulled the knife from his ribs with an angry snarl and placed a healing hand on the wound, throwing up his own barrier while the operation was done.

The Ralkin leader pointed the tip of his cane at the ground between the combatants. Another symbol, wider and more intricate that the two his student had made formed on the floor. It erupted upwards in a shower of tiles a moment later, accompanied by a loud clicking noise as a large creature pulled itself through the void.

The Chittorick had been one of the most difficult symbols for the old man to memorise, it was as alien to look at as the oversized insect it called forth. The monster was eight feet of thick, segmented carapace, a pincer at it's back and slicing mandibles at it's front.

"Kill."

It scuttled towards the elf with a wave from it's caster.

OOC The old bastard's just getting warmed up... **twiddles evil moustache**/OOC

[Alberich]

Jargalan didn't know chittoricks, but he'd faced many insectoid and arthropoid monsters in his time, and had often found it easier to disrupt their sensors than pierce their armor. He leaped behind the staircase to shield him from the two errants' blows, and as the chittorick came 'round the corner, gave roasting fire to the nearest antennae, and to the hairy-looking forward appendages. That wouldn't kill the creature by a long shot, but might stop it from finding or focusing on him. And if its killing instinct was not specific -- and it seemed to be modelled on creatures that were too stupid to know one man from another -- it might well attack whoever was closest...

Jumping up with only a little magical boost, Jargalan seized the edge of a stair, heaved himself over the edge and rolled into a crouch, then ran up firing further at Aleron. Eli was still down towards the bottom of the steps and, as Jargalan hoped, closer to the wrath of the chittorick - especially if it started leading with its tail that looked symmetric with its head.

If Aleron's stick was a staff and he could get it away, the odds would change considerably. But whether he could depended on just how strong the errant's defenses were. With errants, you never knew. You had to test.

[Jack Rothwell]

Aleron felt the Chittorick's mind shifting towards frenzy and dismissed the creature with a word. The monster froze in place and crumbled into waxy dust. The old man held up a glowing hand as Jargalan got close enough to strike at the Ralkin leader, focusing on bolstering the energy wrapped around him. The half-elf's barrier was obviously very strong; it was the work of a dedicated magic-user with decades of practise. Whether or not the cane was augmenting his power was a moot point, as the elf's attack wasn't enough to crack the magical shield.

The Ralkin leader made a tittering noise that seemed geared to grate directly on the listener's nerves and slammed the short staff into the balcony floor, the stairway surrounding it collapsed under Jack's feet, dropping him to the ground in a shower of disintegrating wood and stone.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Eli wiped a sheen of sweat from the exertion of healing himself, and turned to see the bandit-bitch appearing out of a side passage with a look of shock on her face. The half-elf didn't hesitate, he pointed a hand at Myra and cursed. The mercenary's eyes widened, and she threw herself sideways as a scorching blast of fire cut through the air.

[Alberich]

A noble hero, a chivalrous knight protector, even a decent boyfriend might've been filled with protective anguish for his lover. Not Jargalan. He treated Myra simply as a distraction for his enemies. If errant Eli was stupid enough to waste a moment's thought or a dram of power on a non-mage thief, then Jargalan would be glad to take advantage. (Afterwards he might be sorry to see her dead. But he never felt much of anything in the middle of a fight.) Hitting the ground, he rolled back to be out of Aleron's sight.

Since he was down on the floor level with Eli and Eli was blasting at Myra, he took the opportunity to give Eli a two-handed blast from behind. He put more power into this one, hoping to cripple the lower, lesser errant. Oh, for an artilleryman's staff! - he might've finished the fool with that.

Aleron's demonstrated strength had shown him already that he was unlikely to destroy this pair or even one of them. He was going to need plenty of distraction just to get out of here. And Eli's choice of attack had given him the idea for it. This plush luxury was going to have to burn.

[Jack Rothwell]

"Jack! You're a Godsdamn ELF!?" Myra yelled as the elf's attack struck the Ralkin's barrier. In the middle of a fight or not, a revelation was a revalation.

Eli stumbled at the energy slammed hard into his defenses, for a moment the crystal around the half-elf's neck flared as if the artifact had absorbed some of the impact. He grunted, righted himself, and prepared to launch another attack at the thief. The window of opportunity didn't appear, however, as Myra rushed to engage him. The half-elf got his sword clear of it's scabbard and met the banditwoman with the ringing of metal.

Aleron ultilized the symbols his pupil had created to draw a pair of galdy forth to attack his elven opponent. As the feline predators leaped to engage their prey, the Ralkin leader fired a salvo of force bolts at the distracted target.

OOC Wrapping this up in a post or two. Twist coming.../OOC

[Alberich]

A sweep of Jargalan's blade knocked one galdy away, minus a leg -- Jargalan was good with plain steel as with power -- and the other took a force bolt to its hinder regions that smashed it against a wall. A cruel pragmatism made him aim for the back parts and not for an instant kill. From what he'd seen of the chittorick, he gathered that these creatures required some concentration from the caster. If you destroyed them, his concentration was free. If you crippled them, he might need a moment to dispel them. And if he had a psychic link like a Tsuirakuan's to his familiar - so that he might even feel the pain himself - so much the better!

There was no time to regard Myra. If his actions helped her escape, good. If not, too bad. Keeping on the move to make himself harder to pinpoint, he poured some power into a small fire set by Eli's last blast. Then he spread a net of fire all around the room. Fire meant heat and smoke and distraction - and maybe a weak foundation for the stairs. Once it got going he thought he could enhance the smoke and make some cover for their escape. This would also test the mettle of errant Aleron.

It was easy enough to see the weakness in errant Eli's character -- he took his hate for an insignificant thing like Myra so seriously that he'd face her before a real threat. In time that kind of weakness could be exploited. Errant Aleron might have that quintessentially human weakness, an attachment to material possessions just as stupidly short-lived as humans themselves. As if a bit of oil paint on canvas, or dyed cloth hanging on the wall, were treasures for the ages! If he had any attachment to this stuff, and it showed, there'd be a weakness to exploit later on.

One with the mind of an elf knew the things that really mattered and really lasted -- things like hate, vengeance, and the death of errants!

[Jack Rothwell]

Eli blocked a pair of vicious stabs from the enraged banditwoman as the ground erupted behind him in jagged columns of rough hewn-stone. A spell from Aleron's higher position to protect his back against the elf. Eli took advantage of the break from that threat to fire a water spell at the burning tapestries, quenching a large chunk of fire with a loud hiss and a cloud of thick, grey smoke.

Aleron continued his assault on Jargalan; a sweep of a gale force wind that picked up a loose wall of debris and flung them at the elf, forcing him to take cover to avoid being struck by bone-breaking mansonry. He called to his subordinate.

"Eli! Take her!"

The half-elf threw up a barrier to fend off the wild swings of his opponent and dropped his sword with a clatter. He reached into his belt and pulled out the ebony knife which hung there. He grinned wickedly at the cursing woman and let the shield drop.

There was a blur, a parting of two fighters crossing paths. The half-elf staggered to a halt, clamping a hand on his bleeding shoulder. Myra turned and laughed.

"I knew you knife-ears were soft! Any last words?" The banditwoman raised her weapon, a trickle a blood ran down her arm from the light scratch upon it; the only damage the half-elf had been able to inflict with the last attack. Eli turned to face her, his shorter blade glowing eeriely through the fog of the fire's smoke.

"Yes." He said. "Stop fighting me."

Energy lanced from the knife and poured through the break in the banditwoman's skin, who shrieked in surprise and grabbed at her forearm as the cut sealed closed. She looked up at the half-elf, and tried to swing her weapon towards his neck. She grunted, but her arm wouldn't cooperate. She was rooted to the spot.

A crash behind the pair signalled Aleron dropping the wall which had temporarily bissected the room. The younger half-elf saw his master deflecting a further magical attack from the elf. He called mockingly to Jack, Aleron ceased his offense to obliege his young protege.

"It's over scum! You may as well give up and die, isn't that right, Myra?"

The banditwoman lowered her weapon arm, she pressed a hand against her forehead and winced. Eli walked casually up to the woman as he spoke and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Y-yes." She said. "You can't win. You don't have a chance."

"Myra's one of us."

The woman looked at Jack with growing confusion, as if Eli's words were absolute truth.

"You shouldn't have attacked her just now. She always knew you were a traitorous bastard."

Myra's expression slid into a scowl, she pointed her blade at the elf with a rigid arm.

"She hates you." Eli said, smiling.

Myra roared and broke into a run. The half-elves raised their hands and prepared to launch another attack.

[Alberich]

Well, with two errants, one of them puissant, against him, there was only one thing to do here - get out. Without Myra if need be. While they were busy converting her to their use and throwing furniture around at random (dexterity and basic shielding had kept him from being hurt by that) he'd been prepping some extra magic of his own.

Did these idiots think he was going to be shocked or impressed that they turned a human into a puppet? Ooooh, could they control dogs and monkeys too? They ought to have thrown up shields to block her sword blows, ignored her outright, and put their efforts into blasting him before he had a chance to set the fires. Damn fool errants couldn't think straight if their lives depended on it. As, eventually, they would. Now they'd just helped him obscure their own vision and wasted their time trying to play heart-games with an elf.

Adding his own edge to the magic winds and setting a few more fires, Jargalan simply filled the air with smoke and ashes. His tactical observations of the room had been enough that he could find a window from memory, and one he'd just seen broken by a flying chair at that. He kept low to keep the smoke out of his own lungs, and in moments he was out the window and heading for the hills. Re-disguising his ears on the way out was easy - that way, he could bluff any humans he met while making his escape ("Mansion's on fire! Aleron needs every man!"). If he met an unbluffable human, that was all right - he'd never met an unkillable human.

On his way away, he set a couple more fires at long range, both to tie up Aleron's servants and give them a false idea of which way he'd gone.

There'd be time to reflect on Myra's fate later. Any regret he felt would be of the "too-bad," not the tearful, variety. For Jargalan, survival was always the highest priority. You had to live to kill more errants. And truth be told, his drive to do that was careerism and thrill-seeking, not martyrish fanaticism. No, this was a time to leave town. A little misdirection would start them the wrong way, and a little track-obscuring plus a swim in the ocean would throw off any sniffing beasts they summoned up.

Later on he'd have to consider the really important points - like whether it was time to call for help, or better just to wait for Drusia. He was inclined to the latter view. The travel platforms might well be guarded, and two elves for two errants would be quite enough. Plus, like many rangers, he preferred as little supervision as possible. Better to tell his higher-ups about the errant threat and how he'd already destroyed it, both at the same time. His didn't know Drusia well, but didn't think she'd be likely to muscle in on his share of the credit. She was a good choice for backup, maybe the best under the circumstances. And these stupid errants were bringing her right to them!

[Jack Rothwell]

And so, half an hour later.

The interior of Weatherby's mansion was a charred, half ruined mess, but still standing thanks to the efforts of the Ralkin's leader. After the flames had died down, Eli had gone barking orders to the Black Guard, ordering a search and passing along descriptions of the disguised elf and the illusions he was known to employ. He'd left shortly after with a unit of men and Myra in tow, heading to Logan Enterprizes to seek out a new, fortified location for Aleron and his artifact.

The half-elf's mind was a blur of anger and paranoia as he marched with the obedient banditwoman at his side. There was, however, a sense of elation mixed in with that negativity. He listened to the woman talking as if she'd been on Eli's side all along, her memories shifted in some self-created manner as if the spell had merely prompted the brain to make the change. What she said was delivered in a way that suggested original thought, and a great deal of anger.

"A fucking elf!" She snarled. "I was sharing my bed with... I'll cut him in ways that'll make him useless to a woman the next time I see him."

Real hatred in her voice, good. For all her abrasiveness, the woman's talents would be useful in eliminating further opposition from the elvish.

"Get over it." He muttered, keeping his hand free of the knife for the conversation. Aleron had warned of the dangers of messing around too much with the minds of the people under the spell of the artifact. A presto-change-o in Myra's behavior would draw attention they didn't need.

"Don't tell me what to do." Myra murmured ironically. "He's mine, you and the master can wipe out civilisation for all I care. I want his head."

"With any luck, you'll get your chance." He said quietly.

OOC And I think the thread should end there if it's cool with you Al. Further changes to the characters and the Port can be filled in once Tam and co arrive I reckon./OOC

[Alberich]

It was later that very day that Eli got the news -- that there was a man looking for him at The Jilted Heart. A Veracian priest, and a young one, too.

The priest in question had a hard time holding down the shivers. The Church had reached a few in this city, but overall it was barbaric -- the column of smoke and the rumors of battle made that all too clear! Perhaps he should've gone to the Veracian mission first, at least made his presence known there so he could claim protection...but his own intentions were such that he wanted to see Eli first. Any betrayal of Eli's purpose must be deep and complete, and not sigalled in advance.

And if their souls emerged unscathed, then truly would he know that Lord Luminosita had watched over him.