Ambrosia Software Web Board: The Kul'Shar Legacy, Part 2: Inversions - Ambrosia Software Web Board

*** OoC ***
Please take a few moments to review the last few posts, as there have been some small, yet significant revisions - notably in the number of elves in the war party. Thank you.
*** BiC ***

It was on their third ambush that everything fell apart.

As before, Charon and Damar attacked the elvish column from the rear, drawing off a few enraged riders in pursuit. There were more of them this time, at least twenty; the elves were growing wary.

As before, the riders rode into a small clearing, finding themselves confronted by far more than the two they'd followed. As before, they contemptuously charged to the attack.

That's where all similarity to the previous traps ceased. Flynn triggered the lightning sword, but his action resulted in little more than a few blue sparks. He wasted no time in surprise; he’d been expecting it to run out of charge soon enough. He switched instantly into a combat stance.

Seeing Flynn’s actions, Troyen felt a burst of adrenaline course through his body. This was it; his first real experience of melee fighting. He gave a fearful glance at Torhal, standing on his left, and raised the Ruby Fang to the ready. He was almost sorry he’d talked Flynn into loaning it to him.

The lead elf charged at Flynn, intent on riding him down. Flynn stood still, awaiting his moment patiently; he judged his moment, and whirled to one side. His move brought him alongside the elf as he thundered past; he slammed his body into the side of the horse, off-balancing it, and toppling the elf from his seat. Before he could capitalise on his advantage, the next rider was upon him.

With an almost berserk cry, Sideline lunged at the second rider, grasping him by the leg. Between them, he and Flynn quickly pulled the elf to the ground. “Get the next one, I’ll keep these two busy!” the rogue yelled. He turned to face the two unhorsed elves with a feral grin.

Although better trained in the use of a rogue’s weapons, Sideline was still a pretty fair swordsman - and since meeting and befriending Flynn, Sasha and Desert Fox, his skill had increased considerably under their tutelage.

Confident in their numerical advantage, the elves attacked. Blow after blow, Sideline barely managed to parry their strokes and lunges. He was scarcely holding them back, but they were forced to fight constantly at their peak, just to keep him off balance.

Finally, the inevitable happened - Sideline’s foot turned on a stone, and he faltered. One elf plunged forward to capitalise on his weakness. In desperation, Sideline scrabbled for any weapon that came to hand. There was the sound of a heavy blow, and a startled look came over the elf’s face; he stared down at the hilt of the dagger that was buried in his chest, and toppled slowly to the ground. In his surprise at the unexpected turn of events, Sideline’s second opponent fell easy prey to a quick sword thrust upward from the ground. Sideline scrambled to his feet, breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to look for another target.

Seeing the misfortune of the first two elves, the next two riders charged at Flynn together, side by side; if the men tried to unhorse one, the other would be able to give support. Once again, Flynn stood his ground until they were almost upon him, then leaped straight into the air, twisting sideways as he flew upwards. Grasping one surprised elf around the neck, Flynn kicked the other viciously in the face, knocking him senseless from his seat. He kept his grip on the other as he descended, pulling him to the ground; he struck the elf’s head savagely with the hilt of his sword.

Flynn jumped quickly to his feet. Two more elves approached him on foot, advancing far more warily than the last few. Flynn waited patiently for them to make the first move.

Torhal watched the opening exchanges of the battle with his mouth agape. It was like a dream; but the sound of the storm and clashing swords, and the mingled smells of the wet vegetation and sweating horses gave the lie to his impressions. He almost didn’t notice the two dismounted elves charging at himself and Troyen until it was almost too late.

In spite of his bravado earlier, Torhal was no swordsman. He made a few faltering parries, then took a desperate swing at his opponent. To his surprise, the blow struck true, and the elf dropped.

A sound from Troyen shook him out of his stunned state of mind, just in time to see the boy lose his sword. The elf swept his weapon back for a final strike. In a panic, Torhal threw himself in front of Troyen, swinging the Sword of Truth wildly. He felt the impact as the keen blade found its mark. In the same instant, the most agonising pain he’d ever felt tore through his left forearm, as the dying elf’s sword struck home. His tortured cry sped through the forest, demanding respite from his punishment; but none could be found.

--------

The scream of pain penetrated deep into the forest, to where Leandra and Wolmark were waiting impatiently. Leandra jumped to her feet.

“That was a human voice!” She began to run towards the battle.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Wolmark called after her.

“I have to try and help! Just open the portal to the village; I think we’ll be in a hurry!”

Before Wolmark could respond, she vanished into the trees.

--------

Alomar, riding near the middle of the pack, quickly assessed the situation that confronted him. A blond human was fencing with two elves on foot; annoyingly, he seemed to be getting the best of them. Alomar spurred his horse into a charge.

He raised his sword high, ready to bring it crashing down upon the human upstart. A movement from the side tugged at the corner of his eye. He turned his head just in time to register a blurred brown form flying at him, before it connected solidly with his body, sending him crashing to the ground. His head struck a rock, and awareness abandoned him.

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Mia emitted a ferocious, feline growl as she extended her claws to rend her foe into pieces. The bloodrage was burning so hot in her veins that she was hardly aware of what she was doing. Her entire attention was focused upon a consuming racial cry for revenge.

A solid form cannoned into her, knocking her away from the elf and driving the breath from her body. The brief struggle for air allowed time for the rage to subside, or she might have turned on what she perceived as a new foe. Gazing up with half-focused eyes, she recognised Sideline, struggling to drag the elf to the edge of the clearing.

“Why?” she croaked. “Why spare him?”

“I recognise this elf,” he replied. “He let Katze and me go, when he could have sounded the alarm. I don’t know why, and I’d like the chance to find out.”

--------

The result of the elf’s first lunge at Flynn surprised all of them. Flynn easily blocked the strike - and the elf’s sword shattered on the diamond edged blade. Flynn quickly pressed his advantage, running his opponent through before turning on the second.

Abruptly, he found himself unopposed. When the rearmost riders had seen Alomar fall, they’d whirled about in a panicked retreat, firing crossbows back at them to discourage pursuit. Flynn’s last opponent joined them, springing back onto his horse and kicking it into a fast gallop out of the clearing.

Two almost simultaneous cries of pain, from opposite directions, dragged Flynn’s attention away from the fleeing riders. To one side, Charon was bent over Damar’s inert form; the bodies of three elves bore testament to their combined effectiveness in the skirmish, but it seemed they’d paid a heavy price.

Turning to look behind for the source of the other cry, Flynn was stunned to see Leandra lying on the edge of the clearing, a crossbow bolt buried deeply in her upper chest. Forgetting everything else, he rushed to her side.

Mia softly approached Charon’s weeping form. She didn’t have to check the body to know that Damar was beyond help. She gently tried to pull Charon away, but the woman broke from her arms and ran back to the body.

“I’m not leaving him!” she wept.

Mia looked back helplessly at Sideline. He hurried over to them, quickly assessing the situation. Wordlessly, he passed Mia a coil of rope and pointed back at the elf. He then picked up Damar’s body, and made his way to the rendezvous point, and the portal back to the village. Charon followed close behind, sobbing gently.

--------

Katze waited expectantly by the portal that had opened up in the middle of the village. Niamh stood close by, but her face betrayed little emotion. Katze had almost reached the limit of her patience, when someone finally began to step through.

Katze gasped in shock at the state of the solemn group that emerged from the radiant disc. Troyen was supporting Torhal, who appeared to have an injured wrist. Mia prodded a captive elf ahead of her, holding firmly onto the end of the rope that bound the elf’s hands behind him.

Flynn and Sideline were carrying what looked like bodies.

And one of those was Leandra.

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I will classify my lieutenants in three categories: untrusted, trusted, and completely trusted. Promotion to the third category will be awarded posthumously.

[This message has been edited by Overmind (edited 08-17-2002).]

*** OoC ***
OK, sorry, more revisions. I've changed the end of the last post slightly; so please re-read that first, or this one won't make sense.
*** BiC ***

Niamh's anger drained away, as she was confronted by the tear streaked faces of the objects of her ire. She rested a hand briefly on Charon's shoulder as she walked past, never taking her eyes off the lifeless form Sideline carried with such reverence.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered softly in her protege's ear. Charon nodded curtly, and continued on.

"Quickly," Wolmark panted, interrupting Niamh's sorrowful reverie. "Leandra needs help!"

Niamh's eyes widened incredulously. "She's alive?" Without waiting for a response, she burst into a flurry of action, sprinting towards a particular hut. "Reenah! You have a patient!"

An elderly human woman emerged from the cabin, frowning grumpily while wiping her hands on a towel. "What is it?"

"Crossbow bolt to the chest!"

Reenah's eyes widened briefly, switching from Niamh to the body the blond stranger was carrying swiftly, yet gently, towards her. "Bring her in!" She made no objection to the three people - Niamh, Wolmark and Flynn - that crowded into her small residence, her entire attention was focused on the red-haired young woman that Flynn laid gently on what passed for a surgical table.

Her examination was swift. Cutting away the cloth around the wound, she discovered a metal bracelet on the girl's upper arm. It was glowing oddly; Reenah decided to leave well enough alone.

She examined the wound, then took a scalpel. Holding it gently between two fingers, she brought it close to the wound, then hesitated. "This could get messy," she warned the two anxious men. "You might want to wait outside."

"Not while there's breath in her body," the dark haired man declared; the blond one nodded his agreement. Reenah shrugged, and began her surgery.

Niamh decided there was nothing more she could do for Leandra, and returned to see to the rest of the mess the strangers had brought down upon them. Sideline was standing with Katze, some distance away from where Damar's body had been laid. Charon knelt beside it, still weeping.

"She's taking it hard, isn't she?" Katze queried softly, as Niamh approached.

Niamh sighed. "They'd only been married six months."

Katze and Sideline exchanged shocked glances, and fell silent; there was nothing more to be said.

--------

Reenah wiped her hands, and sighed tiredly. "Don't ask me how, but I think she's going to make it." The two men smiled back at her. Reenah stared at the now bandaged wound. "By rights, she should be dead. I have no idea how she survived." The bracelet pulsed slightly, drawing her attention. It was very much fainter now. "What is that thing, anyway?"

"To answer that," Wolmark replied, "is to answer both your questions. It's called a Soulbinder. It can save you from death by unnatural means - for a short while, at least. Leandra was given it on a quest we performed, a long time ago."

Flynn was examining the cut away section of Leandra's kefron vest, wondering how the bolt had penetrated it. "Look at this, Wolmark!" The layers of the cloth were matted together, soaked by the rain that had been constantly falling, almost since their arrival.

"I see," Wolmark said. "The multi-weave binds together when wet, so it can't soak up the impact anymore!"

Flynn nodded. He took a last look at Leandra, who was beginning to regain some colour in her cheeks. "Looks like the fast healing is kicking in again."

Wolmark nodded. "Hadn't you better go look at the defences? Those elves weren't far behind."

Flynn nodded, and left the cabin.

--------

Alomar gazed fuzzily about the camp. He was kneeling on the hard earth, at the foot of a tree. The Shomani girl was watching him with fire in her eyes; he wasn't going to be foolish enough to try to escape.

Random thoughts chased each other through his addled brain, like the disconnected links of a broken chain. Images from his childhood, jumbled up with battles and court occasions from his later life. He could barely separate truth from fiction, past from present; reality from dream.

As a small boy, looking up into the loving eyes of his grandmother. "Why do you have to go?" She smiled, and told him that one day he'd understand.

At court, upon his promotion to Court Advisor. "Well done, young Alomar," Coltarin said. "You've shown much promise. I look forward to working more closely with you." Alomar nodded, even then feeling the knot of disquiet forming in the pit of his stomach.

His father, arguing with his grandmother. "I won't have you poisoning his mind with your twisted views, you old crone! Never set foot in my house again!" That was the last time he saw her.

On the field of battle, after a great victory. Sarg mercilessly butchering the few that had surrendered to them. "Stars, Sarg, how can you be so brutal?" Sarg's only reply was an evil glint in his single eye, replete with a blood-lust that, for an elf, was decidedly unnatural.

His grandmother walking quietly up to him. Her bow was on her back, and she was wearing her familiar ranger garb, as if for one of their frequent training sessions. "Grandmother," he whispered, "why did you have to leave?"

Niamh halted in shock. "Alomar?" Alomar blinked, trying to clear his vision. Niamh knelt down beside him. "Alomar, lad, you've grown! I didn't recognise you!"

Alomar gaped at her, realising the dream had left him. All the decades of hatred, and the burning need for revenge flowed away like water down a drain. They would never return.

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I will classify my lieutenants in three categories: untrusted, trusted, and completely trusted. Promotion to the third category will be awarded posthumously.

[This message has been edited by Overmind (edited 08-27-2002).]

Niamh hugged her grandson close, feeling him sobbing silently against her shoulder. "Oh Alomar, if only I could have found a way to communicate with you - but when your father shut me out, I lost contact. Even your mother, my own daughter, took his side. In the end, I'd had enough of politics, fighting a losing battle to change things from the inside. I came here, and let the humans capture me. I figured that if my own people were bent on turning their backs on their heritage, I'd take it to those that would make use of it."

Alomar blinked at the tears in his eyes, and looked about at the activity of the camp around him. "The humans? You gave them ranger training?"

Niamh nodded, smiling gently. "Yes. They respect the old ways, protecting and caring for the forest. They're not as good as a well trained elf would be, but they're better than an elf with no training at all. Charon is especially good..." Her voice trailed off, and her face assumed a look of sadness. "But with Damar's death, she'll be too distracted by grief to be much use in this fight."

Alomar's eyes widened in shock. He pulled away slightly, staring into Niamh's eyes. "Stars, I'd forgotten! Sarg! And more than a thousand riders! They'll wipe this village from the map!"

"We know," Niamh replied hastily, trying to calm him. "We're evacuating as fast as we can, and the rangers are preparing. It's all we can do."

Alomar's gaze swept swiftly about, assessing the measures being taken. They were pitiful enough; not many more than a hundred rangers, several of them pairing off and slipping into the woods with a good deal of ammunition for their bows, many more taking concealed positions covering the side of the clearing from which the strike was expected.

For a moment, Alomar felt pride in his people - his men, people he'd trained, fought with, knew like brothers. They'd tear through such a weak defence like it wasn't even there. Then he looked once more at the people about him. They were humans, true - but their only crime was wanting to live free. He looked into his grandmother's eyes, and realised that was something he could no longer deny them.

"I want to help."

Niamh smiled. "I was sure you would. Bring me a training tunic," she instructed one of the guards. He returned at a run, carrying something a bright yellow in colour. "Put this on," Niamh directed. "We use these with the new ranger candidates, so they don't shoot each other in their eagerness. My students are used to it, they'll leave you alone."

Alomar grimaced at the colour, but still put the tunic on. Having decided to betray his people, he didn't fancy being shot by one of his new allies. One of the guards returned his sword. Alomar wondered at the degree of respect they showed for Niamh, that they were willing to accept him - once one of their most bitter enemies - simply at her word.

Niamh suddenly became motionless, her eyes glazing over as she strained her hearing to its utmost peak of efficiency.

"They're coming."

----------

Flynn stopped just outside Reenah's hut, gazing about the village at the quiet bustle of activity. Many people, non-combatants, were packing up their belongings and gathering in large groups on the east side. The first groups were already moving out, heading for the next camp. On the opposite side, smaller groups were gathering and checking arms and munitions. There was a large number of assorted kinds of bow, but very few melee weapons - and most of those were staves. Flynn nodded in approval; with the numbers they were facing, a direct hand-to-hand confrontation, even with the advantage of known terrain, would be suicide.

He spied Charon among those gathering arms, but she was still clearly distraught over the loss of Damar. She was functioning as little more than an automaton, following the orders of whoever happened to be nearest. Flynn sighed sadly, but there was nothing more that he could do for her. Niamh was also preoccupied, dealing with the elvish prisoner. She suddenly pulled him to his feet and embraced him; to Flynn's surprise, he observed tears trickling down his face.

Flynn sighed again, wondering just who he should talk to about the defence since both Charon and Niamh were unavailable. As he regarded the forester's efforts, with a feeling of uncertainty, he gradually became aware of the wind in the tops of the trees. It was howling dismally, a mournful wail of lost souls calling to those that would all too soon be joining them. Flynn shivered, banishing all such thoughts with a considerable effort of will.

Something was odd. Flynn struggled in vain to identify just what it was that was picking at his awareness, but without success. The wind suddenly abated, a brief respite for his nerves. Then, with the demand for attention from his hearing diminished, he felt it - a dull, thunderous tremor, deep within the ground, growing stronger with every moment.

He looked up resignedly. When he spoke, it was almost inaudible; in any case, there was no-one close enough to hear.

"They're here."

----------

Sarg burst into the camp at the head of six hundred riders. A swelling tide of elves and horses swept through the glade, wreaking destruction wherever they turned. Sarg smiled in anticipation of the slaughter to come. He'd guessed right; the humans were prepared for an assault - but not from the direction he'd chosen.

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I will classify my lieutenants in three categories: untrusted, trusted, and completely trusted. Promotion to the third category will be awarded posthumously.

Lemenath opened his eyes. Aside from a few sore muscles, he was pleased to find that Moonshadow's healing had worked wonders. He flexed his arms and noticed though he was healed, he still had a long way to go in regaining his strength.

Lemenath glanced over at Ranari cuddled up against him, still sleeping peacefully. He watched her for a minute and muttered to himself sadly, "You may never know."

He shook her gently, waking her. "The others need us," he said quietly and stood up so she could move. She yawned absently and slowly rose to her feet. He watched her, seeing her soft innocence and reminding him what he had resolved to protect, at all costs. She noticed him starting at her and asked, “What is it?”

“I...I need to tell you something,” he sighed, sooner or later he would have to tell her, might as well get it over with. Ranari looked at him intently, the delicate features of her face dazzling in the morning sunlight. Desire surged within him, and with it came his fear that he would lose everything he had always wanted. It was decided, he wouldn’t tell her yet, besides, they still had other problems to fix. “Uh...I want to thank you for what you did last night.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” she replied, her smile melting the ice inside him. He offered her his hand, and she clasped it. They walked towards the temple together.

----------

Sarg grinned as his blade sent his opponent's head rolling into the brushes. His blade was dripping with blood, yet still he thirsted for more. These humans died nicely, in a most gruesome manner. His only regret was they died too quickly, they deserved a slow painful death, their precious innards being ripped out piece by piece. They deserved what they did to him, what they did to his eye and tongue so long ago. Ripped out slowly painfully, while fully conscious, unable to move, escape, or even scream. No comfort, the flow of blood clogging his throat until he could hardly breathe. They would have done more if Coltarin and his men had not stumbled upon those pitiful creatures and saved what was left of him and his friends. Sarg had had his childhood ruined, and a whole lifetime to dwell on revenge, revenge that was at hand now.

An arrow shot by his ear, one of those beasts was hiding behind a tree nearby. He didn’t look up until it was too late, and Sarg’s blade split a gash down his chest, spilling his life out. The elf turned his mount back and joined up with Coltarin’s guard just as two of their agents came, dragging an elven female between them.

“We found her! The traitor!” They cried out in delight. Seeing the battle undoubtedly in their favor, Coltarin dismounted and strode up to her.

“You won’t get away with this! Sooner or later it will all come back to you!” Niamh spit at Coltarin. He only smiled.

“Foolish woman, I’ve already won. Your treachery is well-known, and what good has it brought you? Your people are losing, and you won’t live to see their fate!”

“You can’t win! I’ve-” she was cut off suddenly and her words died on her lips.

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Alomar witnessed the whole scene in a trancelike horror. He saw them capture his grandmother, and had struggled to clear a path to her, but there were simply too many of them in his way. He had watched his group dwindle to a few and sent them into hiding, no point being hopelessly slaughtered. From there, he had them move around to a different angle and tried to find another way to get to Niamh, but by that time it was too late.

He burst from the cover of the bushes just in time to see her fall and Coltarin finish his swing. Something inside him snapped, he felt no restraints, he had no reason. All he knew is that they were the enemy and they would pay, no matter the cost. Alomar surged forward, crying savagely as he focused on Coltarin, but found the humans in his group were holding him back, preventing him from reaching his destination.

“LET ME GO!” he bellowed, swinging his sword at them, threatening to kill them if they restrained him any longer. He felt a sharp concussion on the back of his head and dropped to the ground.

Charon dropped the rock and nodded to the others. They picked him up, and carried the unconscious body back into the forest. As Alomar himself had said, there was no point being hopelessly slaughtered.

----------

Ranari glanced up at Lemenath occasionally as they walked. He seemed to be fine - a good thing. You acted completely irresponsibly! Ranari flushed, recalling her sisters words. What else could she have done? He'd been in danger, and -

“Is something wrong?"

Ranari looked up, alarmed. "No, I'm fine." She managed after a short silence. It wouldn't do to tell Lemenath of her argument with her sister... no way. 'I did the right thing,' she told herself stubbornly. 'After all, I can only take care of one person at a time, and he was in danger, and Kwon was fine.' But still... he could be lying out there somewhere, hurt.

“Shouldn't we look for Kwon?” She asked. He was a human, but he'd always been so calm, not like the others. He seemed to know who he was, what he wanted. The rational part of her told her Moonshadow had probably long found Kwon - either that, or it'd be too late, anyway... no. Ranari firmly pushed that thought aside.

Lemenath considered for a moment, then nodded. "We should go back to the village, anyway... do what we can to help the Shomani."

"And prepare for the demon." Ranari added quietly, uncomfortably. The creature had appalled her, drained her strength in a way only the feylamia could otherwise have done. She didn't want to confront it again, but she doubted she had much of a choice.

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Tana'may looked at the small mirror, watching as she always did when she could spare the time. She had a lot of time to spare now... all the preparations had been made. The demon... an intriguing creature, full of hatred, made powerful by the quarrels among the various races on that world.

The Goddess would be pleased.

----------

They found both Kwon and Moonshadow at the Shomani village - or rather, the place that had once been the village. Fleeing, Ranari had not thought to look back, or she would have seen, to its full extent, the devastation the demon had caused. The land was scarred, nobody would ever live there again. Small groups of Shomani were searching the ruined tents for possessions unharmed by the explosion.

Ranari doubted they'd have much success.

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Charon didn't weep over Niamh's death. Her cup of grief had already been full at the loss of Damar; she had no more tears to give. Alomar finally began to stir. Charon quickly stifled the first sign of a groan, but released her hold as the life returned to his eyes.

“I'll make them pay,” he growled softly, leaping almost silently to his feet.

Charon spun him around, thrusting him hard against a tree. "You'll do nothing of the kind," she snarled back. "At least, not yet." At those words, Alomar subsided. Once he took the time to examine her more closely, he saw a rage burning behind her eyes that equaled his own, yet she managed to keep herself under control.

"Their time will come," she continued, softly, "but for now, I honor her too much to allow the only relative she ever cared about to go and get himself killed needlessly! Don't you think I want to make them pay, just as much as you do? She was the nearest thing I had to a mother. She took me in, when my own parents were killed by a raiding party. She trained me, taught me everything I know about the forest, and being a ranger. I owe her far more than you! She leaned in close to his face, carefully emphasizing each of the words that followed. "I - will - not - let - you - get - yourself - killed! Understand?" Alomar nodded. She'd made herself abundantly clear.

Charon released him, and turned back to the others - who were staring at her expectantly. She seemed slightly taken aback, bu quickly slipped into the familiar routine of command.

"We'll try to slip away into the woods," she declared firmly, all sign of the distraught trance she'd been in before the attack swept away by the swiftness of events. "We'll fight if we have to - but our first priority is to stay alive, and save any others we can."

"I'm not going far from the village," Alomar protested. "My opportunity might come, sooner than you might think!"

Charon glanced at him, and hesitated before replying. "Agreed. But if you endanger any of this group, or anyone else - well, rocks aren't hard to come by."

----------

He watched, taking pleasure from the blood of the dead and the screams of the dying. He felt their fear, their hate, their pain, and it added to his strength. The elven mortals were performing their role perfectly, sowing the seeds of destruction and chaos. Yet, alone, they would not win, they would need help. They had been foolish enough to lose the crystal, that would bring about their doom.

He watched as they took the humans they captured into the center of the village, and slaughtered each of them in turn, bringing death agonizingly slow, not showing mercy. They had passed the test, he would help them.

He maintained his guise of a royal bodyguard and approached their leader. “What do you want?” Coltarin snapped at him as he approached.

“I’ve come to make a deal,” he said simply in the elven tongue. It was inadequate, too mortal, a mere mixture of words, not at all like his native language.

Coltarin frowned, he knew he wasn’t talking to one of his guards now. He offered his hand and shared his being, seeing rather than hearing the terms and the possibilities this offered. The creature was offering him tremendous power, at a small enough price. “I accept,” he said. The creature slashed him on the cheek with a claw, leaving behind a bloody scar.

“It is sealed.” The roar of the ensuing flames was enough to drown out even the final cries of the dying as the trees melted away before the inferno. The elves had won.

----------

With special contributations from cache and Moonshadow.


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"I hate that! Your answers are always short, precise, and utterly useless!"
"Yes."

Is this TS finished? I really didn't want to read all the posts to find out .

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If you knew who I used to be, you wouldn't be as kind.

Well, the second post might be crucial.

No its not, some things need to be worked out for the next post, but its been quite some time, so some of us need to refresh our memories, and it had vanished off the topic list.

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[This message has been edited by Avatara (edited 10-11-2002).]

Moonshadow waves KL in front of cache's eyes.

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Ich weiß wohl, ich bin nur ein Träumer, der vielleicht eines Morgens erwacht. Doch ich spotte dem Tag und ich folge dem Stern und ich lass mich entführen in die Nacht...
- Silk & Lute

Topic moved up. I find I need to reference it, sorry for any inconveniances.

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"There is a time and a place for everything."