Fallen Feathers

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Jegrah was about to leave her spot when she spotted it--Or rather him. A Ratzerl. Jegrah new of her race's history with his race's. Although she hadn't been born at the height of the persecution and genocide. Still she retained conflicted feelings about the rodentia beast. On one hand she knew it was her duty to approach him with much hostility, maybe start a fight with him just for the hell of it. But on another hand she knew how it felt to be treated as though she was less than. And in this time and place where there were no orcs and she was on her own...Should she still act on the feelings of her people?

No.

As he approached her, she gave him a nod and a typical friendly greeting. Or at least she hoped so. "Well met." And then she turned back to stare at the passing villagers and to think of what she was to do at the time. Now that some of the villagers thought her a kind soul, she thought that perhaps she'd make a home there. At least here no one will mock me, and challenge me. She thought.
 
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The shadows fit well to Jarenyth's body just as the blood did. They always had. They were the lovers he never wanted, the lovers he never had. Their gentle caress was all he needed and they touched him often. His eyes were blank thought he emerald eyes seemed to glow from within the darkness. He traveled alone, silenter than most. He was an assassin, one with a reputation for getting jobs done well and silence was but an aspect of his vocation but an important one. He made little noise and already he had been passed several times on the road this evening with no sign of them having even noticed him.

He was better suited to this than his peers, his lanky form and lithe movements made him unobtrusive and in the midst of the night or in a crowded tavern, he blended easily. There was an distinct lack of expression to his face, his eyes the only thing moving. Back and forth across the road they swept, always watching, never waiting. His hand remained near the katana at his waist though his other was dangerously close to any of a dozen daggers on his person. And of course, there were his dear friend.

The Light of Destruction he called it, a pure light that cleansed in pain. That was his friend, his judgement, his will made manifest. The motes danced at his fingertips as he willed and they struck with nary a thought as what he desired, who he desired and let the blood spill like such fine wine. That was what he missed, the blood on his fingers, the taste of salt and iron on his tongue.

Dampness filled his senses as the the first drops of rain began to spill, tapping his head like the fingers of his mentors. Subtle reminders of his training, of his accomplishments, of his skill, of death. The rain could never wash away the blood on his hands, nor did he want it to. It lingered in the memory of his mind and the memory of his body and they were indelible.

The chill water made no impact on his bare skin, the scars of a number of knife fights glowing in the darkness. He neither shivered nor made any attempt to keep himself warm other than the occasional shake of his head to keep the water from his eyes and his pace remained dogged as he approached the gates, a harbinger of the storm. The guards looked at him curiously but the eyes that seemed dead turned as cold as the rain as they met.

"You wouldn't hold up someone from seeking shelter in this downpour?" he asked.

His voice was unusual for an elf - almost feminine even. It was soft and graceful but incredibly offputting, like it didn't belong with him at all. He llike it. Loved it even. Loved the way people looked when they realized who was speaking to them or better, when they felt the knife in their back. Just like so much about him, it conflicted with his appearance.

They nodded him in quickly, glad to be rid of the character that had come knocking at the gate. Behind him, the rain picked up speed and it seemed to follow his steps as he approached a tavern. As his steps came closer his ever watchful eyes observed a ratzerl and an orc, the tension between the two palpable. The animousity between them was not unknown to him and he would show or say it but he found it unusual that the two did not immediately draw arms. He was not of course the kind to instigate such a thing - rarely did it bring a contract - but he did find it...amusing.

He said not a word, slinking in with his silence towards the door, his pale eyes watching the pair as he moved.
 
"I don't mind Orcs, for the most part. Sometimes they can be a little... uncouth and indelicate, but they are also almost always completely honest. When you meet an Orc, you know them. It is rare to find an Orc that hides their intentions. If an Orc doesn't like someone, they don't smile politely to their face, and then stab them in the back. They simply punch them in the face." Cirdan laughed a little, smiling as the same young woman who had taken his order brought over his plate of food and glass of wine. He smiled politely in her general direction, before turning his attention to the plate.

His hand roamed lightly over the table, wandering from point to point until he finally found the fork that the barmaid had set down with the plate. He twirled it easily into his fingers, before finding the knife in a similar manner. He carved off a piece of the fish and placed the piece in his mouth, briefly savoring the light meat before following it with a sip of wine. "Accepted is a good enough word for it, although it is a little bit more complicated than that. What this mark basically means is that they have tested me, and found that, even though this is the body of an elf, it still contains the soul of an Orc. It means that, when they look at me, they should see an Orc. A fairly large and intimidating Orc, all things considered..." Cirdan's lips tilted up in a quick, ironic smile, but when Abel leaned back into his chair the smile softened into something significantly more mild and friendly. It was clear that the man was exhausted, and sitting in a tavern so pumped full of drunken energy could be doing little to aid his recovery.

At that moment, Cirdan was given another reason to get Abel out of the tavern. The Crocdilian on which he had been keeping a small portion of his attention suddenly slammed his sword into the table. It didn't take much effort to see where his attention was aimed, and Cirdan winced slightly. "Speaking of punching someone in the face..." he said softly. "We should probably get out of here. There is enough of a chance that things are going to get messy that I'd rather not risk getting caught up in it."

He paused briefly, sightless eyes unconsciously drawn to the plate of fish and glass of wine. A part of him desperately wanted to stay and eat the rich meal, and anyone who tried to get in between him and it be damned. It had been so long since he had gotten the chance to eat finely prepared fish. Even an irate Orc and Crocdilian couldn't disturb him if he didn't wish to be disturbed. At the same time, he was not particularly inclined to abandon Abel. "Shall we?"
 
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Several emotions raged through the Ratzerl's mind as the orc spoke, chief among them surprise and disbelief. After all but gaping at the simple greeting, he finally regained his composure and gave a small nod "Aye, to you too." He knew that he needed to ask for information around the town, but from an orc? He was insane... "Do you know what kind of currency is used around here, in order to get information and a good drink?"

Hoping fervently that he didn't push her into a blood rage, his hand clenched tightly around the shard of metal in his hand as he watched her warily. Realistically, he knew that of she hadn't attacked him yet he should be fine, he couldn't help but feel ill at ease in her presence. Making sure to keep well out of reach, his tail stills its swaying as his muscles tighten with tension. Hardly even noticing the man that passed by, his eyes lock on the woman as he like his kind had likely felt not-so-long ago, nervous about how it was likely this would end badly for him.
 
Abel recoiled a little when he heard the sword stab the table. "Uh... Yeah... I'd rather not have to try to defend myself. Especially here." He said as he swallowed that last bit of semi-cold food. He stretched and stood up, pushing his chair back with his legs. "Yeah... We shall." He said with a small smile. He slightly stumbled as he stretched up onto his toes, but he quickly regained his balance. "I'm... Not to fond of being in the middle of a fight. My most effective means of defense is fire and... I doubt that would be at all acceptable here." He said with a light laugh.

He brushed out and straitened his clothing and lightly shook his head to get his hair back to normal. It would only get worse out in the rain, but he wanted to have at least a sliver of good looking hair. "Ready when you are." he said with a kind and friendly smile.
 
Jegrah turned back to the ratzerl, cocking her head to the side when he continued their 'not really a conversation'. She didn't mind however, he wasn't challenging or sneering at her, so there was no need to go up in arms about his question.
Speaking of his question...The she orc hadn't even thought to find out about the village's currency. She hadn't bought anything or sought out lodging so she hadn't gained that crucial bit of information yet. She gave him a shrug and what she hoped was a friendly smile. "I've yet to purchase anything here, but I'm sure one of the villagers would tell you. They are...Irritatingly kind." She said thinking back to how she prevented the child from meeting his demise in the well. She then glanced behind her and gestured at the tavern entrance. "Someone in there would know too, I suppose."
 
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"Part of the reason I want to know is so I can buy information, if it comes to that. I need a way back home." Giving a shrug, he relaxes slightly at the lack of any threats or arm-tearing-off. Studying the orcish woman, he voices the question that is bothering him " Aren't all of you orcs bloodthirsty beasts that devour ratzi for breakfast, while laughing about how you wish there were seconds?" His ears turn up in genuine curiosity, confusion evident on his beastial face.
 
Jegrah cocked an eyebrow, and gave the ratzerl a wry smile, "Oh my deep deep apologies. Would you like me to have you as a meal?" She answered sarcastically, then a frown blossomed on her face and her expression turned dark and gloomy. "If you haven't noticed," She said, gesturing at her small size, and her face that lacked many scars or tusks. "I'm not like most orcs."

She left it at that and went back to staring at nothing and pondering the location for her new home. Should she live in the middle of the village or the outskirts? And why hadn't she thought to find out about the currency in the damned village! And damn it, why weren't their any other places that sold mutton that weren't taverns filled with drunk and rough housing brutes! The mere thought of how she would have to avoid the most popular structure in such a...quaint village, filled her with annoyance. She clenched and unclenched her fists. Damn, she was hungry.
 
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Cirdan took one last longing bite of his fish, one last sip of his wine, but he could feel the situation between the orc and the crocdilian coming to a head. If they didn't get out of here soon it probably would have been better to not even bother getting up. Cirdan reached out lightly, snagging the pack that sat next to the table and swinging it up easily over his shoulders. It settled into place with the ease of long usage. He dropped a couple of coins on the table to pay for the fish, and quietly hoped that it wouldn't go to waste, before gesturing for Abel to take the lead out of the tavern.

Outside, he tipped his hat low over his face, the stormwater running along the brim and flooding over the edge, keeping his face clear. Cirdan paused briefly just outside of the door, thrown slightly off by the water. He navigated by sensory perception, but the rain required a minor readjustment. If he was looking for the mass of objects, the rain appeared as a shimmering curtain before him, blocking out almost everything else. But one massive benefit that rain did provide was, every time it hit a surface, it made a small sound. He stepped aside, making sure that Abel had room to get past him if he so wished, before closing his eyes, quieting his mind, gathering his will, and gradually changing the magic that constantly worked within him. Body magic was a subtle thing, and the shift would take time. But by now Cirdan was familiar enough with the process, and confident enough in his own ability, to risk speeding it up. His perception began to change.

Aside from himself and Abel, there were three people outside the door of the tavern, an orc, a ratzerl, and another elf. This town was certainly host to a rather unusual crowd.

"Do you know where you are spending the night?" Cirdan asked, stepping fully out into the rain and smiling slightly as the water began to wash over him.
 
Jarenyth lingered int he shadows of the door just a few moments more, the Ratzerl makign comments that another orc might have taken deep offense to. Despite that, the orc did not seem inclined to accept such barbs as they were. The dynamic somewhat ruined by the orc uncharacteristic demeanour, the elf opened the door and shut it behind him carefully, not wanted to disturb the pair; it was clear that the two were not going to instigate anything...yet. In that case, he might as well choose a spot near the window - at least a show could be witnessed. Of the people in the tavern, few noticed his passing and none that the assassin wouldn't have expected. The bartender eyed him carefully as Jarenyth took a stool there with a perfect line of sight to the window and the pair outside; as long as a fight didn't break out, he was golden. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a pair of coins and casually flipped them between the fingers of his left hand.

"Ale and roast, Barkeep. Or whatever you have that's close."

He kept his eyes between the pair outside and those inside, the Crocodilian seeming to draw the most attention with his boisterous ways.
 
Abel gave a friendly smile and nodded, walking out of the building and out into the rain. He sighed in content and gave a faint shiver. The rain was slightly cool on his skin, but he loved it. "If only I had waited to dance until now... Using the rain is so much fun..." He mumbled out quietly to himself as he shook a hand through his now damp hair. He so loved the rain... It was a time when he could just relax. He glanced around and noticed that there were a few others outside the inn and he sighed softly to himself, giving a quiet yawn.

Abel turned to look at Cirdan when he was asked the question. He chuckled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "Uh... No... I don't know hwere I'll be staying." He said with an embarrassed chuckle. "Um... Well... I got enough from my performance earlier that I can probably buy a room at most of these inns... You know where you'll be staying?" Abel asked.
 


Ruth looked around behind him, searching for a chair. He didn't really know why. He was to big, too stupid to sit in one properly--as everyone was about to find out. Imagine this massive ass Orc trying to pull at a small as bar stool. His hands were bigger than the stool itself, and his arms looked more stable and sturdy than the stool's legs could ever hope to even on a good day. Hell, even his meaty fingers looked more stable. But then again, he did weigh almost four hundred pounds in muscle--and the dame sitting across from him, yeah, the one he wanted to climb into bed with? Was a dainty thing.

By the way. You have no chance in hell with her buddy. *Pet, pet.* Happens to the best of us!

When Ruth finally DID set down, it wasn't long before a cacophony of cracking wood gave way to a sold 'thud!' on the floor. But a rancorous attitude did not befit this Orc right now, no, he was sitting next to the hot chick. If He knew she could polymorph herself into a variety of animals and other beings,--he'd probably wonder if that mean her bust could get get any bigger. However that secret was well laden behind a goof grin, covered in frothy ale.

"ahhh!!!"The woman had burped in delight. It mine as well have been a challenge for Ruth held up one pointy finger the released a deep seeded belch that was loud enough on its own to cause the tavern to cheer him on.

"That is ssoome goood swill there!" The woman was eager to have another mug, and Ruth was more than happy to oblige. The drunker she was, the prettier he looked he'd always said.

"Damn straight!" He dunked the mug and slapped it on the table causing only some of the frothy contents to spill over. That's how you served ale!

"What's your name sweets?"Holy shit! She asked his name!

Ruthgar puffed his chest proudly. Thumb inwards he spoke.

"I'm Ruthgar! Ruthgar Uglúk of the Uthgardt tribe! " He declared.

Yeah...The Uthgardt were highly know for just how savage they could be in fights. I mean even among Orcs.

"What is your name pretty lady?"

Unfortunately, he wouldn't get to hear her name because there was a bigger issue: You remember Mr.Rex? Yeah, he had gotten up and being a temperamental fellow, followed the trail of his supposed ale to Ruthgar. This didn't make sense to Ruthgar, He'd stolen it first fair and square. Rocking Ruthgar too stood up. There wasn't much of a difference in height, this reptiliaan new comer was slightly taller than Ruthgar, but in terms of body mass and pure muscle, Ruthgar had him beat there.

ow there were two abnormally large individuals in a crowded room, holding weapons that could maim and kill very easily. Ruthgar began scratching at his scruff, setting the barrel of ale down with a sloshing and stepped forwards, dragging the huge axe behind him. Now, Axes were effective as both chopping weapons and as crushing weapons.The wounds they caused were appalling and difficult to heal, with a high number of bone breakages.In the two-handed variety, axes can cleave through even plate armor from time to time.In the one-handed variety, their crushing impact can be felt in armor, even if the blow fails to crack through completely.Pollaxes in particular were favorites for combat both in the lists and in war.

Although, having a relatively small striking surface compared to length of weapon, making it easier to miss or strike a haft-blow. The axe in the wrong hands made its cons painfully clear. Because it was a chopping and crushing weapon, all its weights was distributed to the head of the weapon itself. Rather unlike a sword, making it awkward to inexperienced hands, though 'inexperienced' was hardly the term you could us for Ruth when it came to fighting.

A sword was a verstile weapon. If maintained properly, a good sword should be perfectly balanced be them one-handed or two. The pommel was a counter weight to the rest of the sword. This made it easier to manuver, but the sword didn't have the reach of an axe.

"What you want Croc?" Ruth grunted.

"Green Skin! Fill my mug."The Crocadilian demanded.

Ruthgar looked down at the barrel then up at the lizard.

"You wanna fight for it?"
​
 
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Outside Oak Village dark shadows were moving in the woods. They pressed against the light, desperately looking to swarm forward, but something held them back. Slowly the fell under its control, and they slipped back into their darkness. But the inhabitants of Oak Village were not saved. The guards on the wall stood oblivious as the dark shadows collected and organized themselves, coming forward in even lines. The undead stepped just to the edge of the woods, stringing their bows and knocking arrows. Just before they all released in one smooth, simultaneous wave, the tip of each arrow burst into flame, strange, sickly, green fire.

On the wall there was a moment of hesitation. The guards stared out at the unexpected green lights that suddenly surrounded the village, uncertain of how to respond. And then the arrows launched, soaring over the wall and dispersing all through the village. Anywhere they struck, burnable or not, burst into flame.

At first the citizens considered the hardening rain a blessing. Magic fire didn't come on arrows. It appeared, controlled by the will of the mage. Any fire in this rainstorm would be put out quickly, and surely it was just an isolated occurrence. A strange accident. But the flame grew, consuming everything about it. People who got too close would suddenly find themselves burned to ashes, only given enough time for one heart wrenching scream. Many were trapped inside, separated from any exit by the wall of green fire.

Still the rain was considered a blessing. All over town, those with the skill to work water magic put the falling water to use. But as soon as their magicked water hit the flame it vanished. Those mages who tried to resist suddenly found themselves completely drained of energy. They crumpled, many breathing faintly, but some destined never to take another breath.

And chaos began to reign.

At the busiest tavern in Oak Haven, a fire-laden arrow struck the thatch roof. For a moment the patrons inside didn't notice that anything was wrong. It hummed with the excitement of an upcoming fight. But the flame spread rapidly across the roof, and quite without warning the main support beam on the inn collapsed. It fell heavily, crushing one unfortunate patron underneath it. The flame that licked hungrily at it spread to the floor, consuming everything in its path.

Everyone raced for the door, desperate to get away from the flame. The happy chatter in an instant was turned to screams.

Outside the arrows continued to fall. People sought shelter wherever they could find it, but the flame ate at everything, and many were forced to seek new shelter.

Under the screams, a current ran, a collection of words that bounced in fear from one person to another.

Lord Spiritus. Lord Spiritus


Cirdan nodded his head in agreement, gesturing vaguely to the west. "I have a room at a fairly good inn, not too far from..." Hidden behind his hat, Cirdan's eyes suddenly went wide. He dove at Abel, shoving the young man towards the ground. Where the two had been standing only moments before there was now a gout of green flame. Cirdan scrambled backwards, getting off of Abel, but still pulling the man with him. All over town, he could hear the flames splitting through the rain.

He didn't need to see the color of the flame to know that there was something very, very wrong about it. "Come on," he said, retaining as much of his calm as he could. "Stay away from it. Don't touch it."
 
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Awaiting the answer from the strange warrior, Kwah's eyes drifted outside the wide open doors of the church. Green fire rained from the sky, and soon many of the small buildings of the village were caught aflame. Then the larger ones. And then the largest. All but the church was aflame- perhaps a gift from the Hawk, or maybe just a strange outcome of the archers that fired the arrows. Taking a step back he hurried to his study calling over his shoulder "Ayakashi! Begin getting Villagers to the church! And prepare for the fight of your life."

Greening a toothy grin, all the Crocdilian could say before the attack began was "Hopefully you are a better fighter than you are with women!" The center beam came crashing near him, crushing a man with ease. Screams busted from outside, and from the windows several guards were rushing towards the walls. Eyeing the Orc one more time, he changed his pace from the ale to the fighting outside.​
 


"Its well to meet you Ayakashi. You must be a grand warrior if you can defeat twenty nine men in single combat!" The monk had proclaimed, if only he had known the truth. Rin was something of a gladiator. But he held a different air about him. And he certainly didn't look like your average gladiator.

Flamboyant colors abound; two swords neatly tucked in the girdle of his sash along his left hip. A strung bow looped around his neck and one arm and left dangling diagonally. A large war club--studded with steel ball bearings and lets not not forget the halberd-like weapon. It was nine feet long, and with a two foot curved blade that was honed to razor sharp perfection.

Ayakashi lifted one hand to stem the tide of praise.

"I simply could not allow ruffians to defile a sacred place. That is all." He said. He still bore that intimidating facial mask. Of course, his stern eyes wouldn't help alleviate the strong sense of direction that seemed to guide this man either.

He would hold such an air of honor about him.

"I do not fear any mortal man foolish enough to try and defile this church! Now do tell me where you are from Ayakashi?" He would have to wonder: is this elderly man a fool? Or does this God truly have divine providence over this sanctum?

Ayakashi had ventured many places, and many places held their own deities. But many deities failed to at when their temples burned, their sacraments plundered and their priests slain.

"I hail from White Valley Fort, Brother Kwah..." The warrior seemed to be disturbed. His voice trailing off.

Ayakashi could hear them. Falling like rain drops, but were much heavier. Arrows.

"Ayakashi! Begin getting Villagers to the church! And prepare for the fight of your life." The monk pleaded.

"Very well." Ayakashi quickly made his way outside, gripping the larger of the two swords.
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"Hopefully you are a better fighter than you are with women!" The croc had spouted. Ruth grunted, flaring his pig nose.

"I'm of the Uthgardt tribe!" He roared, pounding his chest with one massive fist. "Of course I'm better at fighting than I am with women!"

Well, at least he's honest. He means well, I swear!

He looked over at the the women he was trying so hard to get into bed with. His beady eyes eyes locked with hers as he gave her an almost goofy looking grin while 'pumping' one bicep up. As impossible as it may have seemed, the damn thing became even bigger than the boulder size that it was when not in use. A large, rounded growth extended from the bone forming a muscle so massive, it would make just about any man think twice before getting into an arena with him--and you could forget arm wrestling.

"Come'on missy! lets bag us some trophies!"

Ah, mating with or Orcs-- life couldn't get much sweeter!


​
 
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Abel had let a small smile grace his face, but it was wiped away as he gasped when he was pounced upon. He was so discombobulated that he couldn't do anything as Cirdan pulled him up to his feet. His eyes were immensely wide as he looked upon the unnatural green colouring of the flame. "Wh-What the hell is that?" He asked himself. He looked around the town and saw that much of the town was already engulfed by this green flame. It didn't take an alchemist or chemist to know that this flame was not natural and should not be trifled with. Abel had looked around and watched as some mages tried to put it out, but to no avail.

"W-We have to get out of here!" He looked around and saw one street that was not completely covered with the flame. "C-Come on, this way!" He said as he grabbed onto Cirdan's wrist as he began running down the street. The flames were growing along the side of the street, but their path was safe... for now.
 
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As the arrows began to fall, Strath actually felt almost relieved. He understood being attacked, and it would delay having to interact with the locals in a meaningful way. Slipping the shield from his back to his offhand, he wrapped his cloak tighter around him as he began heading to the walls of the village. Grimacing as he was forced to avoid the arrows that feel with the rain, he finally gets to the walls, quickly scurrying up to get an idea of what they're facing.

His heart dropping in his chest, he could see the silhouettes of the creatures outlined by the sickly fire. The mechanical precision of each archer, in perfect unison with those beside it, told him more than anything else told him something was wrong. Climbing off the wall to get out of plain sight of them, he began making his way to the various houses, making sure that anybody who hadn't left already got moving. They gave him odd looks, but the evidence of his honesty was falling from the sky behind him.
 
Perhaps it was luck, or just Jarenyth's callous disregard for social interaction beyond the circle of his fellow assassins that saved him. Or it may have just been that the building was badly put together. Whatever the case, Jarenyth wasn't within range of the fallen timbers of the tavern, having taken a seat closer to the entrance. He had yet to have any meal at all but that didn't even register on a scale of just how fucked everyone was. With blank eyes and slightly cocked head, the elf watched the patron scream and scramble to get out of the building before the flames engulfed them. He couldn't understand it. Well, he knew about fear, could recognize it, could use it, but he had never felt it. To him, this was just another obstacle on his next contract to be taken with careful consideration and skill. As the majourity of the patron managed to get out, leaving some trampled on the floor, Jarenyth made his way past the fallen bodies as the fire spread behind him.

He knew enough about killing to know several things. One, this wasn't an accident. Two, it came from outside the tavern and more than likely outside the town. Three, it was magical in nature. Four, the flames were deadlier than any normal fire. Five, this was the act of an agent that more than likely trafficked in necromantic energies - the sickly green light cascading about it was a classic hallmark of it. Six, these attacks were delivered by range, probably by arrows given the terrain he saw coming into town - flatlands didn't do well for lobbing magical bolts over walls.

Drawing his blade he advanced in the streets, his eyes to the heavens as the missiles streaked down atop them. They had attacked him. Knowingly or unknowingly, they had also requested a contract against their own life and Jarenyth was not the kind to pass up a contract, even if it paid nothing. The fun was in the killing.
 
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Her thoughts came to a violent and abrupt halt when green flames began to rain down from the sky. Jegrah leaped to her feet, and took cover behind the crates that she had been sitting upon. Three arrows fell and suddenly the crates were naught but ash and dust. It burns too fast to be regular fire. And the green hue..."Magic." The she-orc murmured, before dashing off down the village road in the direction of the wall. By the way that the arrows were flying, she needed to be closest to the source if she wanted to avoid being turned into dust.

Terrified villagers pushed past her, running in a chaotic manner. More than a few of them were shot and incinerated. Jegrah felt her heart twist in pain when children fell and their short lives were ended immediately. As she ran she was relieved to see that the little boy that she had saved was being ushered into the church. Halting her course, Jegrah veered to the left and headed to the holy ground. Those people wouldn't be safe for long, and they needed help.

Holding her sword in one hand, Jegrah prepared for battle.
 


Fun and games were over. In an instant Tandi new what she had to do and proceeded to do it.

First, she altered her body chemistry to rid herself of the alcohol's effects. It took only a few seconds to do so, just a matter of changing the size of her liver to speed the breakdown of the alcohol.

Second she increased her heart rate, and adrenalin to augment her system and rid herself of the last of her buzz.

Thirdly, Tandi moved and moved rapidly, dodging left and right as the weird fire fell around her. Time seemed to slow as she picked up speed the whole time she altered her physical form to increase her abilities, better eye sight, traction, agility and speed all went up. The changeling knew she would be paying the devil for it later as she dodged another flaming green arrow as it landed to her left.

One didn't use this much Change without paying big for it later. Leaping forward she grabbed a child out of the path of an arrow, hugging it to her as she ran along with all the others. The church, of course! She dashed into the doors of the consecrated building and handed off the small crying girl to a priest and turned to look around her.

They were going to pay for this, she was not one to let a dept go unsettled. Who ever they may be, they owed her big time for the loss of her buzz and fun time! Well, that and basically destroying the town of course...
 
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