The Time of Dragons, an Magic.. *All welcome*

"Well no matter. Are the vandles close? Are they camped near by?"

She wanted to know, in order to avoid them, if nothing else.

"If you desire further help, there is a strange band of elves and half elves to the south about a mile or two."
 
"Well, their camp is close by. I don´t know if anyone still lives though. Did not stay long enough to make sure." His lips turn up into a smile. "There was fire everywhere and i saw some burning men run around. Confusion everywhere." He stands up and brushes the leaves of his trousers. "I will think about going to that strange band later. Now i will just go back to the camp. Have to see that my eyes did not deceive me." With that he turns around and slowly walks up the way he fell down.
 
His senses once more failed him; the centaur and another were farther away then the band he found now-such as his sight now fails him with the loss of a single eye. So, I am merely a worthless implement...a tool that has loss its usefullness..., realization that these thoughts found no basis of truth did not lighten his already grim outlook towards his own life. Even now he doubted his ability to hide his presence from either of the elves fully-true he held the mantle of what he once was but that was but a pale illusion of what he was...now only a ragged shadow of a something now lost to the curse he now most endure.

So as the thoughts of his doubts plague his mind so the coyte visage upon his face fades once more revealing that of a man-the dead white flesh of the scar over his left eye shimmering paley; even in the down pour. Hiding his presence was of no matter-in time they would know he was there if they did not already know of his lingering presence; though he was not partial to the bloodletting of moments before-as any predator he was drawn to the slaughtered villagers by the carrion birds that celebrated such feasts.

A ragged coyote shaman...in the wake of something...a shadow of a former self unscarred..., despite himself a grim laugh escaped his mouth-he could be melodramatic at times it seems...a small musing to side tract his already grim thoughts.

Leaning against the bole of the tree; seeking what comfort he could from the embrace of the tree he found himself lying under from this unnatural downpour. A slight nagging feeling of a comforting hand; nay a soothing touch comming to mind briefly...cast aside but a rememant of his earlier brooding thoughts.

Sliding down; till he rested on the ground itself-one leg raised as he lies his arms across his bent knee; the other leg resting outstreched as he contemplates the small group ahead of him. Occassionally the light of the small fire would glint off the metal of his claws as his mind turns towards the group and his eventual decision....
 
As he watches the rag-tag band prepare their camp and feels the rain falling from the sky, he silently makes hisw ay from brnch to branch, tree to tree as he returns to his own camp not far distant.

Surface Elves... They for sure would never accept. Not even the half-breed. They'd as soon kill me than give me a chance to plead my case. Who on the surface would not? I should never have left the Underdark. But also, I could never remain in Menzoberranzan. Not and stay true to myself. How long has it been since I last walked the deep caverns? Centuries, it seems, though in truth only a decade. Are there perhaps other Drow on the surface? Ones who, like me, found they could not live in that world? Knew in their hearts that they could never be apart of that evil? That there is good in their hearts and minds? Would that I could meet others like me. Perhaps one day I would meet the legendary Drizzt Do'Urden.

When he reaches the trees surrounding his own small camp-site, he leaps to the ground, twin blades in hand, looking around the bushes. Seeing no immediate threats, he re-sheathes his blades and begins to light his own fire to make a stew out of his trail rations.
 
Idrial nodded silently as she listend to O'Bonn's words as he removed the arrow from his bow. They would indeed need to leave this place in the morning, and she senced much the same as he that whom ever was out there was curious, and not looking to harm them as of yet. The only question remaid were they friend or foe??

Sighng softly Idrial watched as he pulled his cloak up closer around him. Rest i will be fine. I agree it is strange that they donot approch.... I donot think i will be welcome to join the councel i will be lucky if they allow me into the elven village at all as i am only a half breed. her voice held no anger, and no sorrow as she spoke only stating a simple fact, as she thought about the journy ahead.

Hearing the human's words Idrial watched him go, she wondered if he would be alright travling as he was but it was not her place to stop him ither. Moving from where she stood Idrial knelt down to check on the boy, and noiced the healer's complection... she was pale and frale looking, as tho she were fading.. not at all the strong elven woman she had met a few moments before. O'Bonn I donot wish to disterb you but i beleave the healer is dieing...
 
Hearing these words, i believe the healer is dieing, Morrigann almost leaped from the ground in which she was burried. She could not let the happen J'Lth was the most powerful healer she had known. What she could do was beyond those by the fire. Gathering her mind and strength, she surged one last time and rose from the grave she had made herself. The coyote man gave a low growl but she only pushed him carelessly out of the way. She strode into camp pushing O'Bonn and Idrial out of the way walking directly to the healer. Holding her head and waking her, she spoke the words in Elvish.

"You healer will die if you do not allow me to help you. What I am means nothing but what I can do will only bring with in you the power to help heal YOU. Please do not fight me for I am stronger but only for a little while. There are others. Others that will reveal themselves in time. However, the sun in on the rise and I have not much time. You must trust me." With that, she lowered her head to the healers neck. Sinking her teeth in she drew only the amount of a dime from the Elf for to much of their blood would invade Morrigann and kill her. Raising her head, she took her arm and bit the flesh, letting the warmth spread as she allowed the blood of the healer to invade her.

Almost in somewhat of a lovers embrace, she kissed the healer. Blood flowing from the wound in her arm and her mouth onto the face and in the mouth of the Elf. She spoke the words granted her.

"I elimen to parrrec va seech num. Codanum es peradinum vera forsade" The wind rose and swirled over them encloseing their bodies. Morigann could feel the life and the energy slip from her body to J'Lth. Then it was over. Spent, weary and lifeless, Morrigann rose to face the others. Yes, she could heal, there were things about her that no one knew. She let them take her plight as Undead to whatever meaning they themselves chose. She may have been undead but she was still Morrigann Le Fay. Morrigann Pendragon. Morrigann, the undead.

Speaking to Idrial and O'Bonn,

"She will live. However, you must keep her from the sun for three days. She must not see sunlight for these three days. She will be stronger. I have done all I can. Now I must go. I will travel with your company if you see fit." her last statement presented to O'Bonn and Idrial was more of a pleading question.

She walked back to the oak tree to find the man staring at her in disbelief. She touched his scarred and lifeless left eye. Shedding only a tear, she dissapeared into the ground as the sun rose behind her.
 
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O'Bonn was upon his feet in an instant the moment the Undead burst forth from the underbrush. His scimitar was in his hand, it's blade reflecting the Elven runes engraved upon it from the fire light. It was a swift blade, a powerful blade. In fact, not since the legendary Icingdeath and Twinkle, which O'Bonn had seen wielded by their master as he fought alongside, had there been a blade such crafted.

A most powerful blade, held by a most powerful warrior. It had been the bane of many of the Undead. However, it would not be such this night.

The High Warrior knew the words Morrigann spoke were true.

"Do as you must, Vampire," he said to her. He then turned his head in disgust and revulsion as she lowered her bared fangs to the Healer's flesh.

O'Bonn put his nose to the air, smelling smoke, from a fire not far away. The Fay still spoke. Something moved beyond the clearing.

"And to thee who would watch us from afar, I say," he shouted into the night air and rain, "come you forth and face us!"

O'Bonn moved into the graceful, semi-rigid stance of a High Warrior swordsmaster, with his blade laying against the bottom of his arm as he held it to his side. He was ready. Whether the Fay spoke of enemy or friend, he was ready.

The sun was rising now, as the Undead retreated to the earth from where she came. And O'Bonn, watching ahead, his eyes narrowed to slits, stood poised to deliver death to whatever came forth with harm or hatred.

But the Fay brought him no warnings of either. O'Bonn listened, hearing movement, and then realization as the Fay spoke to him again. The corners of his mouth tried to form a smile, but he stayed it, and relaxed the grip upon his scimitar. A Drow had come to the Sun, the Fay told him. And the other? The Fay said the other was a most interesting creature indeed.
 
The word Vampire struck Morrigann in the depths of her soul. Vampire. She was what she could not change, yet she feared O'Bonn not. The Fay as they spoke to her also spoke to him. She sensed the Drow. What his purpose was, or why he was above from the Underdark was just out of her reach. Her mind was weak and the blood was stone in her body. She sank quickly. The question still unanswered. Would they allow her, Vampire, to follow along? No one knew her purpose which she knew in time would be revealed. Deeper she sank into the ground letting the dampness soak into her. Searching out with her mind, she reached for the man-coyote. She longed to stroke her hands in the soft fuzz. There was something oddly comforting about him. He may have not been the one that made her, but somewhere there was a connection to the one and him.

From there, her mind found comfort in thoughts of her father and the land of Pendragon. Seeking inside, she found him searching for her. Often she rambled around in his thoughts for hours before falling asleep. Tonight however, she wanted only sleep. The healer's body would be weak, and the sun would make it hard for her to breath for three days. She would not turn into Vampure. She was only given blood of the Fay by the undead. Strange as it was. She laughed in spite of herself causing the wind to rustle. Sleep took her quickly. She slept like she was, Dead.
 
Lifting once more his right handed metal claw to his face peering into the dim reflection cast back by the rays of the new born sun-his ears listening to the activity in the camp as he studied these metal claws he possessed. In another time he would have been harmed by the touch of cold iron but instead he found himself comforted by the cold iron carress of the claws clamped to his hands. Dimly aware of the blood that soaked them the moment he became what he was now-no longer hampered by the laws and free to sated his own thirst for what he mistook as vengeance...a decision that has cost him much...and something that rewarded nothing but an empty feeling of his own inablities.

Hearing of the healer's fading force broke his own dark and brooding thoughts as his single eye; its brown orb hazy from unshed tears-not for the healer but to the ones of past misdeeds; and the one that was the result of his scaring...his failure...his curse. In spite of himself he cared little for the fate of the healer; he has yet to make a decision and so he remains but an observer...unaffected by what transpires for now in the campsite...content to observe less the mistake of his failure be repeated again.

His senses came nearly to late as the earth shoved him aside; the scent of before assailing him once more-a soft growl ensuing from his mouth. Finally putting a name to the scent; of death a scent he has grown acustomed to in his wanderings-how many years has passed since he found himself wandering the land-days, years...centuries...they have all blurred together for him....cursed by the wound over his left eye...an imperfection.

Resettling once more as he eyed the woman whose scent was of death; briefly wondering if she might be able to sated his years of wandering-a chance of redemption or damnation he cared for neither but if he would be free of this curse he would seek it till he realized his own part in this tale. A decision was drawing near-a realization that brought him to wonder as he watched the comming scene with a mix of interest and was it hope...did he dare hope.

He did not know the name of the race the woman belonged to; but her scent was similar to ages dead...a scent he found disturbing but also pleasing in a way he could not fully realize the reason. Though the healing of the elven healer drew his interest...yet as she stood before him a single tear carressing her face before touching the dead skin of his scar over his left eye-his hope lost as there was no reaction; and so she once more vanished beneath the eart..he himself moved a bit further away from where she sunk-not in fear but for some reason there was a longing in her eyes that he did not know...nor did not know how to question.

Once more his focused turned towards the small group in the clearing; the male elf having taken a stance-he did not feel a challenge radiating from the elf...he was not hostile yet and did not know if he would be hostile nor would he be an ally as of yet...an obeserver yes. The mention of a drow was only that of a name used by elves, man and mortals that he cared not-both drow and elves smelled the same and so he did not care how the differ from one or the other-same held true to how they bled...he has spilt much blood in his travels...finding that all bled the same so racial differences held no real meaning to him.

Still he waited in the shadows of the forest as the sun broke upon the clearing-he would follow them of course and he would watch them...he felt in some way his freedom could be had if he followed this band. The one of the undead...the one who smelt of death he was interested in for in her he found someone else cursed with an existence that was of not existing but also of existing...being something they are but not was.
 
Turion was a thin, boney man. He was only in his twenties, but he had a sort of sickly look to him, as though he were infected by a disease of some kind. His skin was pale, and a shadow of black stubble covered his unshaven chin. He cared little about what people said was right or wrong. His only goal was to take whatever he could, enriching himself.

He crept among the ruins of Kant, picking through burnt houses and fallen rubble. Ah, a lady’s gold necklace! A wide smile crossed his face as he pulled it from a charred jewelry box. His head swiveled around, his eyes glistening as he searched for more prizes. Something else caught his eye. It was a silver earring. He grabbed it with his long fingernails. It had been slightly damaged by the fire, but after some cleaning, he was sure that he could sell it again.

Turion cackled with an almost childlike glee. The sack of looted items he carried over his shoulder was getting heavier and heavier. If he continued at this rate, he’d never have to work again! He jumped out of the charred foundation of one house and proceeded to the next. The next house appeared to have been a bakery or something like that. There were still some loaves of bread stacked on the counter which the fire had somehow missed. He grabbed a loaf and began chewing on it. Ah, life was good, he thought to himself.
 
death of the healer

As all are astonished at the sudden happenings, the sun rises & hits J'Lth before anyone realises the warning Morrigan spoke until it is too late...

J'Lth crumbles into a powdery dust within her robes, returning to the earth
 
Idrial had jumped back when Morrigann ran through her and O'Bonn to reach the healer, drawing her sword even as O'Bonn stood drawing his own. Idrial hadnt quite beleaved what she was seeing until O'Bonn called her vampire... she had heard of such creatures but never met one... the most undead she had come across were skeleton's, and zombies ... but that was another time.

Idrial begain to move forward to stop her from biting the healer her intent was not to harm, but one of concern and she wanted to see if there were another alternitive first, but stopped seeing O'Bonn turn his head and allow her to drink. Idrial wrinkled her nose at the thought of drinking blood and turned her own head taking an interest insted in O'Bonn's scimatar studing the designs on the blade.

Hearing him challange tho's who were watching them Idrial studied the trees and bushes around them watching for movment, and lisiting for a reply. Turning back to face Morrigann only when she spoke, she did not look upon her with revulsion tho the idea of drinking blood did bother her she was more curious than afraid.. if she had wanted to attack them she would have done so in the beging when they were distracted with the boy.

Idrial watched as Morrigann moved back to the place where she had arisen from and dissapeared beneath the ground, as the sun begain to rise. Remembering her words that they needed to keep J'Lth out of the sun she moved twards the healer to pick her up and move her but before she could do so the sun's ray's touched her body and she was gone.

Looking back to O'Bonn she kept her silence but wondered if the healer might have had more time if they had waited to see if there were an alternitive. Hearing the boy begain to stir she gathered the healers things to be returned to her family, and said. We must go if we are to reach our destantion soon... If you wish the stranger to follow we can leave a message of some sort for her to find when she awakens. Standing she brought J'Lth's things to O'Bonn and gave them to him.

Moving away she begain cleaning up the camp and preparing to leave, giving O'Bonn time to think. Asside from the two of them and the boy, and the other stranger's watching them were the only ones around that she could sence.
 
O'Bonn took J'Lth's belongings from Idrial. As a Healer, J'Lth had little that she carried with her. The most important thing she had that Idrial had given the High Warrior was a small book, its pages written in Elven script. There were healing recipes in this book, pages and pages of remedies and cures. O'Bonn smiled at the book, and placed it into his small pack under his cloak.

He looked to where J'Lth's body once lay, now only dust and ash. "K'fla juen bre silous," he said. 'To soil thou hast returned'.

"I am sure," he spoke, turning to Idrial, "the Undead knows where we are going. She will follow when she is able to rise once again."

O'Bonn didn't know this, but he thought as much. Something about the vampire held interest for him. The Fay spoke good about her.

O'Bonn nodded his head. "The others will follow as well, I think," he stated. "We must leave this place, now. To Gilad we travel, and travel swift we must. Thorn awaits us."
 
Idrial nodded and finnished cleaning the campsite mounting the boy infront of her once again.

She placed her own cloak over the boys sholders to ward of the chill of the morning air, and dampness from that night, and followed where O'Bonn lead as she had never gone to Gilad avoiding as many of the elven citys as possable.

As they left the glade tho she felt a small sence of sadness she hadnt known the healer long, but she had given her life to save the boys, and for that Idrial would remember her always.

Clearing her thoughts she concentrated on the road before them, knowing that emotions would only hold them back if she dwelled on them over long. The boy reminded her much of her own brother who had gone missing when they were younger and whom she was still searching for tho he would be much older now.

She had been on her way to WaterDeep following another lead when she had come across Kent...but that would have to wait... this boy here needed her now. I am Idrial..What is your name boy? she asked him.. Rylos barly hearing his reply as the wind wipped it back to her Idrial nodded and focused back on the road.
 
Morrigann knew. She felt the pain as the sun hit the healer's body. She cried out in anguish with a sound to shake the earth. The Healer was dead. She could not weap. She could only hope that as Idrial and O'Bonn made their way to Gilad with the boy that they made it safe. She sensed the coyote would follow and his scent she could stay with. The drow would also follow.

She would sleep only for a little while and take nourishment in whatever means necessary. She would walk in the shadows of the evening sun. To Gilad she would return. As her mind drifted into darkness, she heard O'Bonn refer to the healer's possessions and the book she used to create her spells. Even in her grief, Morrigann's mind wondered how much that would bring her in Gilad. She knew that in Gilad, she would not be the only one with bounty to gain and possessions to profit from. The book could come in useful. So could the boy. That would be a task to contemplate later. Now her body demanded rest. Then food. Then, she would deal with that later. Closing her eyes, she delved deep into the sleep of the dead.
 
Turion finished off the loaf of bread and wiped the crumbs from his shirt. He grabbed a few more loaves and stuck them in his sack. He continued to search the charred bakery. Perhaps there would be some treasure or money to be found. He kicked blackened timbers out of the way as he rummaged through the drawers and cupboards in the place.

As he worked he thought he heard voices. He stopped, tilting his head to the side. Yes, he could hear some chattering outside, but it was distant. He had thought this village was abandoned, but apparently it was not. He crept out of the bakery, walking in the shadows towards the direction from which he’d heard the voices.
 
The centuar watched the strange man stumble up the path of which he had fallen down. She looked over her shoulder, back in the direction of the others, and then back towards the man. Sighing, she trudged up the trail after him.
 
As the sun finishes rising, Thelron begins preperations to break camp and continue his travels. Not knowing where else to go, he figures it might just prove worthwhile to follow the group currently positioned not far from himself.

He packs up his meager belongings, placing everything into his magical bag that seems to be no larger than a simple belt pouch. He covers the remains of his campfire so expertly that only a skilled tracker would notice there was ever a fire there in the first place.

Setting out, Thelron travels in the direction of the other group to see where they might be headed. He once more watches them silently from the trees, listening closely to them and learning what he can.
 
The forest trail opened up, and as the underbrush got thinner, the large trees grew sparse. Gilad was not far from them now.

O'Bonn drew his hair back into a tail, and adjusted the bracers on his wrists. He watched as Idrial walked with the man-child upon her horse. It was a slow trudging now, as they were starting into the hills.

Gilad itself sat nestled in a valley, fed by a swift stream from the melting snows of Red Mountain. Red Mountain was where they must go, to the cavern near the center, the keep of the dragon Thorn.

O'Bonn took a folded leaf of Elven flat bread from his pack and broke a piece of the bread. As he chewed he thought the mid day sun would not be so bad this day. The air was becoming cooler now, as they ascended the hills.

O'Bonn was purposely slowing down every so often. He did not want the guests of their band, even though they had yet to show themselves, save for the Undead, to fall too far behind.
 
Idrial followed with out complaint being used to such travels, it was only for the boy she worried he was not used to a saddle but nor did he complain ither.. When O'Bonn stopped and pulled his hair back she notice that he watched them, and was glad at the slow pace for the boys sake, but she also had a feeling he didnt want to loos their other unseen companions.

Gilad itself sat nestled in a valley, fed by a swift stream from the melting snows of Red Mountain Idrial thougt it beautiful, but then many places were. Moving up next to O'Bonn she stopped the horse's regans still in her hand. She could feel its nervious stamp as he pawed the ground.

I will have to leave him here he wont go much further...we will have to walk the rest of the way. she said and moved back to help the boy down. Removing the saddle and tack as well from the animal so that it could roam and have a chance to run should wolves or any other beasts decide to attack it.

Idrail took her pack from the saddle bags her sword, already strapped to her side and her quiver and bow across her back she slung the pack over her sholder it would be easy enough to drop, but she had know way of knowing what they would need. Rope, a torch, rations?... and other verious items that would be of use.

She gave the boy something to eat as O'Bonn ate his own food and followed when he was ready to leave.
 
O'Bonn looked around him as Idrial's mount pawed the ground.

There was a reason the horse would go no farther. Something did not feel right. O'Bonn could not tell for sure what it was. He looked back, hoping to see the centaur or some of the others. He looked again to the horse, and he watched as Idrial took her belongings and the boy from it.

They were in sight of the town at Gilad. O'Bonn reckoned they would reach its gates by the mid-afternoon. And from there, to Thorn's lair.

"My lady," he said to Idrial, "shall we wait here, upon this grassy knoll, as mid-day approaches, and our companions have yet to arrive?"
 
As O'Bonn speaks of wether they should wait or continue on, Thelron stands up straight, roughly 75 feet from their position, off to their left. As he stands there, arms across his chest, away from the hilts of his swords, he waits. Doing nothing but watching them, he awaits to see what their reactions might be as he continues using a simple spell which allows him to hear what they're saying from this distance.
 
Idrial scanned the area around them as O'Bonn asked his question her vision as a half elf allowed her to see and hear up to 60ft away. She stood quietly for a moment listining. I do not sence anything amiss nor do i see any fresh tracks aside from our own that have come thru in the last few days.[

Seeing O'Bonn watch her horse she looked in that direction as well seeing her horse shudder and begain moving away from where they stod she said. I beleave my horse can sence and smell the danger the dragon Thorn presents..

Looking around some more she continued looking at the tracks there had been few animals that passed this way.. ..perhaps a dog or cat owned by any who lived in the glade below...kneeling down she took a closer look wolves, the tracks werent fresh but nor were they more than a week old.

There were few wagon tracks as well mainly they travled by foot because of the rocky tarain and snow, as well as not many animals could stay so close to Thorns layer for long.

Looking back at O'Bonn she stood and said.. I think it wiser for us to continue to Gilad it is not far and tho i to am curious about our invisable companions there have been wolves in this area recently..
 
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Gabriele trudged up the path into the burning camp. The acrid smell of smoke filled her lungs and she fought not to cough. The camp was destroyed, and other than the sounds of popping fires there was nothing to see.

The man was silent. She still didn't know anything about him, or whether he was even worth her investment of time.

Her hooves carefully picked through the charred remains of the camp, her centuar form disapearing through the smokey haze. She turned back towards the forest, striking a new direction. She didnt' know exactly where to go. She didn't have any obligations to anyone at the moment. Nor did she really want to rejoin the odd band that had formed earlier.

She traveled untill she came to a cool bubbling creek. She stopped to rest and to refresh herself in the cool water. There were tracks around the creekbed that told the tales of travels by the woodland creatures. But no other horse nor centuar tracks. In fact, she hadn't seen many traces of her kind for quite a spell now. But she pushed that sad fact out of her mind.

She was tired. She chose a spot beneith a willow to rest. Looking up from her resting spot she spied the mountian that she knew towered over the nearest city, Gilad. Perhaps she would head there next for supplies or whatnot.

Soon, she fell into a deep sleep.
 
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