Meri Greenleaf

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Meren continued on her journey in a much better mood despite the insects that had begun to settle on her arms and flit away before she could swat at them. She would learn how to control her magic and do so quickly. She would get by fine without Kryro's help. Her smile faded as a thought struck her. What if the mage didn’t speak a language she did? This gave Meren a few minutes of panic where she paced back and forth, unable to force herself forward, until she recalled that her father had said it was a halfling village, as well. Even if the mage she sought was not a halfling, someone there would be able to speak with her and point her in the right direction. 

This conundrum solved, Meren traveled on with her spirits again raised. It was a cool night, the moon was bright enough to see by, and her brother would be safe with his own kin soon. Things could be worse. Things could be better, yes, but they’d work out. Now if only she could do something about the bugs! She brushed at them again and this time her hand hit something much larger than an insect. When she squinted in the dim moonlight, there was nothing there. She felt it again, this time more like the brush of someone trying to catch her attention, and she fought back a shriek. It was only years of training for silent scouting that kept her from doing so.

Her heartbeat didn't slow until a hoarse voice whispered, "Calm down, elf-girl. It's just me." 

"Phillip? How? Where are..." Right. Magic, of course. "So that's how you got away from the clearing. I'm beginning to think that you're following me around, you know."

"I think not. Alright, so this time I may have been." Now that she was paying attention to the spot to her right, she could see vapor rising about a foot above her head when he spoke. "And I... er... did follow you back to your home."

Meren glared at the spot she now knew him to be. "How many times do I have to tell you to leave the area? And could you please make yourself visible again so I don't have to speak to a cloud of smoke?"

Phillip muttered something under his breath, then appeared looking rather sheepish and still vaguely purple. "Six, I would guess. But before you say anything else, you didn't seem too upset when I knocked out those orcs and put out the fire."

"So it was you. I figured as much.” Meren tried to glare at him, but found that she couldn't and felt dangerously close to smiling at the annoying human. "I suppose I should say thank you."

"Always a pleasure to help a woman in need," he replied with what was probably meant to be a smirk. Meren snorted, which didn't seem to take away his strange good mood. After a moment, however, he turned serious again. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened back in your town? Encampment? Why are you going south and the centaur back into the forest?"

There went her good mood. But what was the harm in telling him? He'd probably just tag along, bugging her longer if she didn't. No wonder she had mistaken him for a swarm of pests. "East. I'm only going south until I can cross the river. My kin learned of my magic-- thank you for throwing yours in there because they now think I have even more than I actually do, by the way-- and they sent me off to a mage who lives in a town to the east. Kryro is going north to find his kin."

Phillip's dark eyebrows wrinkled in thought. "A mage? But I'd thought you were already trained."

Meren stared at him, unsure of where he would have gotten that idea. "No, never. I can do magic, but my father thinks that a mage can help me avoid setting things on fire."

Phillip shook his head slowly and gave a short, low whistle. "Hearing that, you do need to find a master. If you can do magic like that on your own, setting the forest on fire may be the least of your worries, Meren."

Being called by her name for once showed that he was serious, but a statement like that was downright terrifying when she'd already fretted about her lack of control. Phillip tugged at the frayed hem of his sleeve and Meren got the impression that he was thinking hard about something. "I didn't mean to frighten you, only to give a warning. Just make sure the mage you find is a good one. I don't mean good as in 'competent'... well, I do, I suppose, but what I meant was someone who is a good person." His raspy voice grew quieter as he added, "Believe me, this is important."

As he spoke this, Meren recalled his earlier paranoia. It was possible he was trying to warn her away from his own experience, whatever it was. "I will. But where are you going? More things aren't following you, are they?"

He stared at the staff in his hand, studying it for a few moments, then glanced behind him. Meren was about to ask her question again when he answered softly, "I hope none are. And I don't know. I was going west, but how can I go home looking like this?" 

"Wouldn't that be the best time to go home? If they're your kin, they won't mind who you are."

"As yours so readily accepted you?" His hoarse voice was bitter, but Meren didn't think he was directing that sharpness at her.

He had a point. A rather good one, actually. "Alright, bad example, but you need to go somewhere you can be safe."

After saying so, she realized that she meant it. Despite the human's irksome tendencies, she truly didn't want those horrible things coming after him again. An idea occurred to her and she reached into her pouch where she'd stuck the pendant earlier that day. She pulled it out by the chain and held it out to him. "Here, take it back. It might keep you safe if you don’t go home.”

Phillip stared at the slightly luminous object for a long moment, then shook his head. In the dim light she saw in his dark eyes an emotion she couldn't quite read. Before she could figure it out, he looked away from her again, but took her hand in his. "No, you should keep it. If the master you find is worthy, show it to him. It may help you. Otherwise, keep it a secret."

Meren could only nod dumbly, completely bewildered by his words and actions. This was the same person who had been a thorn in her side for years? Seemingly satisfied by her mute agreement, Phillip gave her a small smile and let go of her hand. "Good. Stay safe, Meren." 

His words echoing those spoken so recently by Kryro left Meren even more speechless, and it wasn't until he'd walked out of sight that she realized she hadn't asked him why he'd turned purple in the first place. As she walked across the stone bridge, she shook her head. If you couldn't trust your own curiosity, what could you trust? She couldn't help smiling to herself as she mentally answered her own question: spells to frequently be chaotic, a brother to be endlessly protective, and purple wizards to be dependably unpredictable.

The End

(Originally written and shared in October 2011)

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"What did you do?”

The question made Meren yelp and almost drop her bow. Reluctantly turning around, she found Tawarthel with her hands on her hips and her father standing behind the scout leader. Meren was torn. Did she explain or deny what she'd done? Maybe she could pass the globes of light off as swamp gas... in the middle of temperate woodland. And the fiery attack she'd thrown... Meren cursed silently under her breath. There just wasn't a lie that could work to explain this away. As she began to stammer an answer, still unsure of what to say, her father spoke softly, "That was magic, was it not?"

Knowing she had no other choice but the truth, she could only nod. Tawarthel stepped back, her eyes narrow. "Magic, Eryndir? But the shaman should have caught any arcane potential-"

Eryndir locked eyes with his daughter who lasted only a moment before dropping her gaze to her boots. "Not necessarily. Not if Meren's is a different sort."

"A different sort? How can there be a different sort? Unless her mother..."

"Was simply a healer," Eryndir finished, clearly trying to nip that thought process in the bud, much to Meren's relief. He then asked Meren, "But why did you not tell?"

Meren's answer was to glance over at Tawarthel whose frown was precisely the reason she hadn’t. "Because of that reaction. I know elves shouldn't be able to do what I can."

Tawarthel crossed her arms over her chest. "See? She admits it. Eryndir, you must send her away. We cannot have that kind of magic being hurled around, alerting outsiders to our location and setting our home on fire."

Meren was about to retort that this was something that had never happened before when Kryro stuck his hoof into his mouth instead. "She did not mean to do that, sir. She has never done anything harmful to the woods before."

Except for that time I created a pit, Meren thought to herself as the two elders turned their attention to Kryro, who shied backwards at their mutual stare. "You knew of this ability?" the scout leader demanded, putting an emphasis of contempt on the last word.

Now Kryro seemed to realize his mistake and opened and closed his mouth a few times before speaking again. "Yes? I thought it would be safer not to share that knowledge..."

Eryndir did not look happy, but Meren thought she saw more disappointment than anger on his face. "Meren, Tawarthel is right." The scout leader smirked at this as he went on, "We cannot have you hurling fire around, even if you were able to put it out again."

Meren should explain that she hadn't in fact done as much, but quickly realized that revealing she had no idea how the fire had diminished would do little to help her case.

"I would not allow an untrained archer who knows not how to aim to scout, so a mage destroying our trees I cannot allow here, even if she is my daughter," he continued. Meren could feel her face go ashen, as though all the blood in her body was draining into her overly large feet. This rose slightly, maybe to the vicinity of her knees, when his next words were, "No, not forever. Just until you have what you wield under control. There is a village of halflings and humans to the east where I know a wizard resides. You must go to her and see if she can help."

As Meren tried to make sense of what sounded like an exile, even if it wasn't forever, Eryndir spoke to Kryro. "I need you to alert your tribe that there may still be intruders in the area. Go with Meren as far as the river, then find your kin. Likely they shall need your aid more than we at the moment."

The young scouts both bowed their heads in acknowledgment, but neither were pleased about the tasks set before them. We are his kin, Meren thought to herself as they walked to her tent to retrieve the rest of her scant belongings, and he's a trained guard, not some errand runner.

Kryro remained oddly silent until they were a few miles away from camp. Finally, as they were weaving their way through the last outskirts of trees, he spoke up again. "I am sorry I said that, Meer. Perhaps if I had kept my mouth shut, you would have been allowed to stay."

Meren shook her head. "I don't think that would have made a difference. Even if I'd been allowed to stay, Tawarthel would have found a way to convince my father that I was a danger and I would have been sent off anyway."

"You do not know that.”

"Even if not, they do have a point, as much as I hate to admit it. I am a danger, 'Ro." When she saw her brother shake his head and look about to interrupt, she continued, "I am. Sometimes my spells work but when they don't, they really don't... and the thought of burning through my home has me terrified."

"Why worry of that? You stopped the fire before it could spread.”

Meren looked down at her hands before letting them fall to her sides. "No. I didn't. The fire did go out, but that wasn't from me. I couldn't even cancel the lights I accidentally placed above camp. Even if some spells do work, I don't know enough about how to stop them if they get out of control. I am a threat."

Kryro still didn't look convinced. "But with the magic you have, it could be used to protect the camp. No one else can throw bolts of flame at an enemy."

For all that he had been uncomfortable with her magic to start, he was now the one always pushing her to use it, but he couldn't know what it was like to have that sort of wild power. "Trust me, this is for the best. If that mage my father spoke of can help me get this under control, then I can come back and use it to guard."

"And if she cannot? What will you do then?"

"Leave and find another mage who can help." The look on Kryro’s face made her heart sink into her stomach. He was clearly worried about her and if she was any judge of the person she knew best, he was beating himself up inside for not being able to help her out of this dilemma.

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. How could she convince him when she was somewhat worried herself? "I'll be fine. I promise. If this town doesn't work out, I'll come find you and you can help me locate a different mage, okay?"

It seemed as though he was going to complain about this plan until finally he nodded. Meren feared for a moment that she'd accidentally set off that mind control spell again, but the lack of energy surging through her hands disproved that. No, he just trusted her, which was a far better reason. If anything, though, it left her feeling even worse.

The two continued on in thoughtful silence until they'd reached the water. In the dim moonlight Meren couldn't see the bridge spanning the river, but knew it to be just south of where they stood, having used it many times to reach the woodlands on the other side. "Go on, 'Ro. You need to spread word like my father asked."

Kryro remained still for a moment, causing her to worry that he was going to demand she let him follow her, before speaking again. "Alright. I still do not like this, but I seem to be outnumbered in this decision."

He reached down to squeeze her shoulder. "Stay safe, Meer. And when you reach that mage, please do try to not throw fire around too much. She may be more inclined to help if her home is not burned to the ground."

He spoke those words seriously, but Meren knew when he was teasing her. She stuck her tongue out at him then smiled, "Oh, alright. If you insist. I'll stick with the boring magic. Maybe I can find a way to summon butterflies instead."

Kryro smiled back at her, then after another squeeze to her shoulder, turned and trotted off to the north.

(Originally written and shared in October 2011)

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Meren was greeted by raised voices when she neared her kin's camp. From the sound of things, Tawarthel had found a new target to berate. It was nice to not be on that side of the scout leader's temper for once, so Meren crept around camp towards her tent to avoid being noticed. She froze when she heard the timid voice speaking quietly in reply. Kryro. There went Meren's plan to avoid confrontation.

Changing course to head in the direction of her brother, she remained out of sight in order to catch what was going on. From the sound of things, Kryro wanted permission to go out and find her, claiming some sort of hunch that he was needed. Tawarthel was not impressed by this and wouldn't let him leave, and part of her anger seemed to come from confusion over why Meren was gone in the first place. That was when Meren realized her mistake. The unintentional forgetting spell that had hit her father hadn't extended to anyone else in the camp.

Maybe she could actively try to get it to work this time? It would be worth it to get Kryro out of the mess he'd stepped into because of her mistake. Closing her eyes and focusing on the woman standing a few yards away, Meren began to softly chant. But as she stepped out, about to begin speaking with Tawarthel to complete the spell, something went wrong again. Her hand grew tingly, as it had last time, but that was where the similarity ended. Instead of Tawarthel being struck by a mind control spell, the energy flew off behind and above her, settling on top of the tents where it formed into four globes of light.

How was Meren going to hide that? As she prayed silently that no one would notice, Kryro's head raised. Tawarthel tracked this movement even though her back had been to the lights and spotted what Kryro saw. Meren cursed under her breath and attempted to cancel out a spell that she hadn't meant to cast. She tried calling out a few words in elvish ranging from "dim!", "darken!" "snuff!" and a last desperate "go away!", but none worked. Tawarthel was now looking from the flickering torch-bright globes to Meren and back to the lights, her mouth agape. Kryro met Meren's eyes and shrugged helplessly, mouthing silently to her "Now what?"

Meren could only shrug in response. About to dart out of the temporary village when no other plan presented itself in her head, she stopped when she heard more shouting, this time outside of camp and in a harsh, guttural language. Kryro's eyes widened and Meren saw his lips move. This didn't look as though he was trying to talk with her this time, however, and if she had to guess, he was trying to translate what was being said. When his face went pale, she knew she was right and that it couldn't possibly be good news.

"Orcs!" he said, turning to Tawarthel and grabbing her arm to get her attention. "Orcs have found the camp and are attempting to surround us!"

Tawarthel blinked, then aimed a glare almost as fiery as the newly created globes of light at Meren before bringing her fingers to her lips and letting off a series of shrill whistles. Both Meren and Kryro recognized that alert; it was a warning that an enemy was close to camp and everyone was needed with their weapons ready now. Tawarthel didn't need to say a word for Meren to know what had happened. Her newly created lights had allowed the orcs to find a camp that was normally well hidden. But how had they gotten past the sentries around camp? Meren's heart sunk into her stomach. Of course. They'd probably followed her. She'd led them here. 

Feeling a strong mix of shame at being so preoccupied that she hadn't noticed something trailing her, anger that something had, and distress that something could happen to her kin, Meren took off running east, the direction she'd heard the orcs calling from. One elf might not be enough to keep enemies away, but she was going to try. Fear for herself was the least of the thoughts running through her head right now, but she'd admit to feeling a lot better when pounding hoofbeats followed her. 

The two reached the edge of camp just as a group of orcs did. As Kryro began swinging the large club he carried, Meren held back, her hand paused above her quiver. She could trust her bow. The arrows wouldn't go astray. But she also knew that she possessed a spell that would work far better in a time where there was no need for stealth. Torn between magic and weapon, it was the orcs that decided it for her. A handful of them moved in formation to surround Kryro, their spears and swords raised in preparation to attack. An arrow would only be able to bring down one, but magic would have a better chance of clearing them all away from him. 

Meren lowered her arm and brought her hands in front of her, her palms down. She began to chant again, this time calling on the fire spirits to aid her. Please, she pleaded silently, I need this to work! Her hands grew warm and with a sigh of relief, she took a step to the left to move around her brother. Keeping her attention on where she was pointing, small jets of flame shot out of her fingertips and into the band of orcs.

Her elation of driving them away from Kryro was short-lived when something caught her eye. Some of her fire must have gone errant because smoke rose from the bushes at Kryro's back. To a wood elf, fire was always much, much more dangerous than any kind of enemy. Orcs may carry swords, but fire could jump from tree to tree at an alarming rate, destroying the land the elves were responsible for keeping safe. Now Meren began to panic. She didn't know any water spells and she doubted any water spirits could hear a non-shaman when this camp was so far from the nearest river. Fire, earth and air were always far more reachable, but she couldn't think of anything she could ask of them to help. As far as she could tell, her magic differed from that of a shaman, but as a wood elf, spirits played an important roll even to a scout. But what else could she do? 

Kryro's shout brought her attention back to the small battle in front of her. In her distraction, Tawarthel and two other elves had come up and begun firing into the melee. The original orcs were still there, six still singed, but another two had joined them. Kryro had a gash on his flank and seeing him hurt brought Meren back to action. She unslung her bow from her shoulder and fired an arrow ahead at the orc swinging at Kryro, bringing it down. The centaur gave her a quick, thankful smile before swinging his club at the next.

Aiming at a second one, Meren froze with the bowstring pulled back. The fire in the woods was shrinking, seemingly to be putting itself out. In a few moments it had all but vanished, fading into a few smoldering embers and curling leaves. There was a singed gap in the foliage, but that was it. What? How? I didn't-- Meren started to think before realizing that this was the least of her problems at the moment. Her kin had the upper hand, though, or at least more luck. When two of the orcs tripped over their fallen comrades, the elves were able to take those down, and when the remaining ones tried to flee, a hail of arrows brought those down, too. Recognizing an arcane slumber when she saw one, Meren opened her mouth to warn her kin that three of the fallen orcs weren't actually dead, but Kryro had that covered. Odd time for it though it was, Meren couldn't help smiling a little at that. They did make a good team.

Now if only she could figure out why those orcs had been knocked out. In theory she could have caused it, a sleeping spell being one she possessed, and having spells that infamously warped into other spells could have been another factor, but not this time. Two spells couldn't happen simultaneously and that fire one had gone off perfectly for once, even if it hadn't quite done as intended. No, someone else's magic was at play here.

(Originally written and shared in October 2011)

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When the smoke cleared, Phillip's drastic change of appearance had startled Meren. She knew better than to mention it, though. If he reacted the way she assumed he would, his narcissism would be a horrible distraction and he was already distracting her enough. His previously tanned skin was now tinged a definite purple, as far as she could tell from the bits she could see, and that long hair of his was now scattered on the ground in black clumps, but even this was less strange than the fact that the purple smoke had returned when he'd spoken to her. This time, however, it was issuing from his mouth along with the words. Meren was no stranger to magical unexpectedness and she very much hoped she hadn't been the cause. This wasn't a reaction she'd ever experienced, but her magic regularly did some odd things. She had been reaching for the trees behind her when the smoke surrounded him...

But that magic was her best chance at protecting her forest and themselves. With a silent prayer to the earth spirits to let her magic work this time, she began the first words of the only spell she could think of that could help. Focusing her power into the ground beneath her, she called to the roots, vines and bushes not far from where she knelt. This time the plants answered as she wished and the green energy flowed towards her. It moved quickly, much faster than it had done in the past, and when a thick tendril headed towards Phillip, she tugged at it to keep it from harming him.

She opened her eyes. A dense thicket of plant life filled what had once been clearing, serving as a barrier between them and most of their enemy. A lone orc caught on this side of the thorny wall shook off his bewilderment all too quickly and lunged at her with a heavy club. Reacting rather than thinking, she rolled to the left, the ground jolting her ribs as she dove. Frantically she felt around for her bow, knowing she would never be able to fire an arrow off at this close of range at such a disadvantage. She raised her bow to serve as a makeshift club to block-- only to have the orc fly over her and into the new thicket.

Meren climbed to her feet and winced as her sore side protested. What happened? I didn't do that... 

Phillip, coughing uncontrollably with smoke blooming out of his mouth, brought his quarterstaff back to the ground to lean heavily on it. Injured and unable to breathe fully, he had found enough strength to swing his staff around in her defense. This, as nothing else he'd done so far had, impressed the guard-trained elf. Impressed and shocked; she honestly hadn't thought him capable of such an act, physically or by inclination.

While Phillip dropped to his knees in another coughing fit, Meren pushed through the circle of forest surrounding them to look for any sign of the other monsters. She circled outwards, finding bits of bone, which she kicked further apart in case they could somehow reknit together. As the trees grew, they must have pulled the slow-moving skeletons into pieces. This was a relief, but less of one was the lack of any orcs. They hadn't seemed too happy to be working with skeletons in the first place, so perhaps trees springing up under their feet had pushed them too far and they'd fled. She could only hope they'd become so frightened that they wouldn't come back.

She and Phillip were safe, at least for the moment, so she retraced her footsteps to where she'd left him. Her knowledge of the woodlands and a good sense of direction meant she was positive of this fact or else she would have thought she was in the wrong place. The small clearing now lacked any wizards, purple or otherwise.

(Originally written and shared in October 2011)

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Meren retrieved the rope and stashed it back in her bag. Only then did she realize that she'd had her back to Phillip the whole time. When she faced him again, it was to find that he remained where he stood with a sad, distant look on his face, as though he was thinking hard about something. It wasn't until she'd walked over and poked him in the arm that he snapped out of it. As he blinked down at her, Meren noticed that his eyes were an uncanny shade of dark brown, almost a black. Was that because he was human or because he was a wizard? "I'll lead you to the edge of our lands. Be sure not to come through here again because the other guards won't be as kind."

"Trapping me in a hole is kind?" When he saw Meren frown he bowed his head, letting his now rather-mussed long hair fall over his face. "I didn't mean- look, thank you for getting me out and fixing me up. I do appreciate that, elf-girl."

He sounded sincere enough. Meren nodded as they began walking at the speed of his slight limp. "It's fine. And I suppose if you're going to keep showing up, I should ask you your name. I'm Meren."

"Surprisingly pronounceable. I'll try to remember that for the next time I need a healer... not that if I get hurt, I'll wander around a forest, of course. I'm Phillip."

Now that they were being civil to each other, Meren wasn't going to wait on asking the thing that had bothered her since she found him in the pit. "Why were you here this time?"

There was that sad look on his face again that made Meren regret asking. "I'm trying to get home. My master-" he stopped in mid-sentence to glance over his shoulder.

"Isn't here," Meren finished, assuming that that was who he was looking to avoid. She was sure of that; anyone wandering this area wouldn't be doing so undiscovered for long, whatever this "master" was.

As he gulped audibly, Meren was sure that she'd hit a sore spot. He whispered to her, "No, you don't understand. He's... horrible, evil, unhinged. He may not be here, but what if one of his servants are?"

Now Meren was entirely confused. Why would servants be a problem? Didn't humans just use them for pouring tea or watching their children or something? Clearly this was a cultural misunderstanding. "Come again?"

Phillip shook his head and continued in a low voice, "You don't want to understand, elf-girl. Trust me."

Whatever had gotten to Phillip had obviously upset him and she didn't think he was faking that fear. Deciding to change the subject to try to calm him, she said, "Alright, I won't ask. Where is your home?"

Phillip loosened his grip on his quarterstaff, his knuckles fading from the white that they'd become. "Birchlyn. It's a village-"

"To the southwest," Meren answered with a smile, one previous mystery solved. So that was why he spoke the halfling language! She knew that to be the nearest town to Woodedge, a halfling village and, oddly enough, where the shorter side of her family was from. Since he was local, that would mean that he had at least heard of the forest he'd ended up in. "You overshot when trying to get there and ended up in the outskirts of Fayiron."

For the first time she saw him give a genuine smile, which made him look a lot less haunted. "Then I am close to my destination. That is good to hear!"

Meren was extremely curious about those halflings who must have taught him their language. He was quite fluent, so it was likely that it wasn't something he'd picked up secondhand. She was just about to ask him more about his home when she was startled by horrible laughter to her right.

They'd left most of the trees behind them and Meren's curiosity had distracted her from just how out in the open the two of them were.

They were surrounded.

There was that orc she had wished for earlier and two more of its kind. But even worse than that were ... well, they had to be what Phillip spoke of earlier.

A chill ran through Meren's body as she was hit with deja vu from her time stuck in a hole. Here was a handful-- flock? Horde? Graveyard? Words flipped through her head-- of skeletons, which were upright and walking towards them, clinking as they lurched forward. Gripping her bow tightly, she drew an arrow from her quiver and put it to the string. If these things thought they could just stroll into her home, they had another thing coming to them. She had a feeling arrows would only harmlessly go through the more boney enemies and looked over at Phillip, her only backup in this situation. He had frozen in place, trembling and eyes wide.

Careful to keep the monsters in her line of sight, she nudged Phillip in the shin with her foot. It wasn't the injured leg, but it was enough to get him to scowl at her. Annoyance replaced fear, which had been her intention. "Now what?"

Before Phillip could reply, one of the orcs began to speak.

--------------------------------------------------
"A new friend? Too bad for her we'll have to kill her, too," the orc said in the human tongue. Phillip glanced over at Meren, worried about her reaction to that statement. Upon seeing her expression of complete incomprehension, he realized she had no idea what the orc had said. One small favor there.

He took a deep breath to keep his fear under control before speaking. Perhaps they would listen if he sounded like his master... "It was a waste of time to follow me, was it not? Don't you have something more important to do than follow one worthless apprentice?"

No such luck. The orcs only sneered at him while the skeletons, lacking faces with which to emote, remained still, which disturbed him even more. If he could get the orcs away, the dead things might follow. Another glance at Meren showed him that she had raised her bow. In theory she'd be be willing to cover for him with it if his idea didn't work.

He reached into the neck of his robe to retrieve the amulet and tugged the chain over his head. Assuming what he hoped was a powerful wizardly stance, but worrying he simply looked like a ragged, injured, terrified boy, he thrust the amulet forward. Doing his best to make his voice boom, he demanded, "Stand back or I'll unleash the full fury of this arcane amulet!"

To his amazement, this worked. Partly. The orcs stepped back, looking nervously between themselves. Phillip gave a quiet sigh of relief. Now the trick was getting the amulet to do something. For all that his master had desired it so much, he'd never actually used it, or if he had, it wasn't in his apprentice's presence. He concentrated deeply on the charm danging from his hand, trying to weave the power he controlled around it. Preoccupied by this, he didn't notice that Meren had begun chanting next to him until the stone began flickering between purple and green. After a few seconds it settled on a deep blueish-purple, as though both colors had combined into one.

Suddenly struck by what felt like a bolt of lightning, or as though a cat the size of an elephant had rubbed against his leg, he fell to his knees. As a cloud of purple smoke engulfed him, he couldn't see, he couldn't breathe. His lungs were on fire, his skin tingled, his head rang. Never had his magic done anything like this!

While he gasped and wheezed, something groped for his arm and he flinched back, knowing what kind of horrible things were near. When he saw the tattooed vines on the hand rather than bones or claws, he stopped trying to pull away. Leaning heavily on Meren and his staff, he was able to get to his feet as the smoke began to clear, but something was wrong. His lungs continued to ache and he felt a draft on the back of his neck, which contrasted greatly with the hot tingling of a moment before. And his hands, they looked so strange, unless his sight was still blurred from the stinging fog...

Meren gasped, staring at him with her mouth open, but before he could ask, the sound of approaching rattling made him look past her. The monsters were approaching again, no longer held back by the smoke that had all but dissipated.

Phillip was at a complete loss. He couldn't run, he could barely breathe, and what would happen to a spell if he couldn't stop coughing while trying to recite the necessary words? He was defenseless; all he'd be good for would be getting in Meren's way as the monsters sent after him got her, too. Perhaps if she could get back into the thick part of the forest, she'd lose them.

His mind now made up in a decision he couldn't really comprehend, he found the elf's hand again. He dropped the amulet into it and whispered hoarsely, "Run, elf-girl. They want me, not you."

Her reaction surprised him as much as his own had. Meren looked up at him, her green eyes narrowed, and shook her head defiantly. "This is my home. My land. My magic. They have to get through me."

Before he could do more than blink at her vehement reaction, she dropped to the ground in a crouch, letting go of her bow to clutch the grass, keeping the amulet in her one hand. As the monsters neared, she began to chant in her unfamiliar airy language. Hoping she knew what she was doing, Phillip gripped his staff tightly with both hands, pushing back the pain in his ankle and the ache that still filled his lungs. If an elf was willing and brave enough to face monsters obviously arcane, then a wizard darn well could do the same.

(Originally written and shared in October 2011)

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Phillip wandered through the treeline in a stupor, leaning heavily on his new quarterstaff as he pushed through the undergrowth. The briars and thorn bushes snagged and ripped the hem of his robe, but he hardly noticed this, so preoccupied by a memory he could not erase. His master had given up the illusion magic he'd excelled at and abandoned it in favor of necromancy, the magic an illusionist normally could not use any more than a snake could use a boot. And what the once-illusionist had done with it... he shuddered from the memory of the skeletons created when his master looted a cemetery. He'd tried to convince his master not to do this, but Phillip had been so frightened and horrified that he'd ended up hiding when those pleas were ignored, invoking more anger when his master realized his assistant was not there. The only thing going for the young wizard at that point was that the old man had been too preoccupied with his newly created servants to give much attention to the person he was supposed to be training.

His master had been getting progressively more and more disturbing and this was the last straw; grabbing what he could carry, Phillip fled. In hindsight, he should have left as soon as his master had begun slipping down that slope towards horrifying, but Phillip had held out so that he could become a master wizard in his own right-- not that it had become possible in the end. By that point his master was only casting magic Phillip either could not or would not do. Caught not quite at the status of full illusionist, but no longer truly an apprentice either, Phillip fled, taking time only to grab the amulet he'd recovered for his master years before. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't trust it in the hands of the warped old man. He vaguely hoped that it could aid him in some way, possibly to fill in for the training he still lacked. Who would take in a mostly-trained twenty-six year old apprentice, anyway? That was why he hadn't left Bluecoast sooner: he'd had no idea of where to go.

He glanced down at the ash staff in his hands. It was a gift sent from his father, a skilled woodworker who knew nothing of magic but was aware that most wizards carried staves. He also knew that his son's favorite hobby was astronomy, or something with stars, anyway. That had always been a bit over his father's head, but he had apparently caught on enough to know that it would be a good theme for a wizard's staff. The intricate stellar carvings in the wood had sent a wave of sudden homesickness over Phillip. Home may not give him the new master he sought or the end to his training, but it was at least a destination.

So he'd left the coast behind and headed west in a long trek back to his homeland, slowed by the constant need to look over his shoulder to check for the monsters that filled his mind and his nightmares. He made it two-thirds of the way home when this pensiveness left him lost. He thought he was following a trail through sparse woodland but now there was no sign of it.

Turning slowly in a small circle to try to get a bearing of which way north lay, the ground under his feet shifted and dropped him into a pit. As he tried to push himself to his feet, his ankle twisted and left him seeing stars. Trying to keep from blacking out, he used the staff to support his weight so he could survey the hole which he was beginning to suspect was actually a trap. The evenness of the dirt walls validated this assumption and the arrow drawn and aimed down from above the pit proved it.

He raised the hand not clutching the staff in surrender. He had begun to wonder if he could fire off any sort of spell without losing his balance when the figure said, "It's you again?"

He recognized that voice and now very much wished he had a way to get out of here.

Grimacing at the pain that shot up his leg, he limped backwards until his back hit the dirt wall. Of all the elf traps he could have fallen into, it was the one she was guarding. At least this particular elf wasn't likely to actually fire at him-- or so he hoped. Perhaps it would be wise for him to duck.

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Meren patrolled the forest alone. Occasionally Kryro had to report to his own tribe and this was one of those times. Wanting to stay on guard, however, she'd managed to convince her father to allow her to do so on her own. She wasn't entirely sure how she'd accomplished this, but she had a hunch. Kryro kept insisting that she had magic, which she denied at first because wood elves were not magical, but soon she had started to experiment, figuring that it was a sort of weapon and it would be foolish to not use everything at her disposal to protect the forest and camp. This she kept secret from all but her brother and had tried to not use it anywhere near where her kin could possibly see. As well as being unmagical, elves were rather... superstitious about it, and that was putting it nicely, but she had a feeling that some magic had been working through her as she'd argued with her father. Her fingers had felt tingly, a sure sign that she was pulling energy again, and his green eyes had taken on a glazed quality while she spoke. She hadn't stuck around to see if she'd truly been the cause and hurried out as soon as she'd gotten his approval just in case she had done some sort of spell and said magic wore off.

So alone she roamed until she spotted a glint in a place that shouldn't have anything shiny. Sneaking forward in her soft leather boots, Meren crept behind some ferns and low greenery to get a closer look ahead. The sun reflected off the silver-embossed tip of a wooden quarterstaff. She was all for using bits of fallen trees as weaponry, but why wrap something so ostentatious around it?

When the figure turned, the reason became clearer-- it was that infuriating wizard again. She sighed. Trapping him would be best. Closing her eyes and trying to focus the green energy of the forest into doing her favorite spell, the energy decided that it had its own desire. Instead of the forest reaching out and rapidly growing into a dense thicket, it remained in place, but what didn't remain in place was the ground between her and the human. The black-clad man let out a startled gasp as the dirt under his feet vanished, then a yelp of pain as he hit the bottom of the pit that had appeared under his feet. Well, that works, too, she thought.

She put an arrow to her bowstring out of habit and crept forward to the edge of the pit. Now getting a good look at the man's pain-filled face, she saw that it was indeed who she'd thought it was. Why couldn't she be rid of this human for good?

"It's you again? You're trespassing on guarded lands." Why did she want to add "again"? The last time she'd had the pleasure of his acquaintance, he hadn't been in the forest. She could almost recall... she shook her head. No matter, that wasn't important.

"Would it help if I said I didn't realize where I was?" he asked, giving what she thought was far too innocent of a look.

Meren sighed again. He likely wasn't going to be a threat to the forest but he had no good reason for being here. She lowered her bow and cursed at the complication that had presented itself. She almost wished she'd found an orc blundering through the underbrush instead.

Well, if he really had hurt his leg, as it appeared from his stance, he wasn't going to be able to move quickly if she got him out of the hole. The trick would simply be to not turn her back on him, which she vaguely recalled had been her mistake last time. And this time she had magic at her disposal, as well. She patted the pouch at her hip where she'd begun storing the bits of plants and miscellaneous trinkets that seemed to make her magic function better-- although that latest spell fumble could attest to this not always being the case-- to reassure herself that it was still in place. She'd be fine even without Kryro to back her up.

Leaning down over the pit, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I suppose I can let you out. But try anything and you'll find another pit beneath your feet." Not that she could likely duplicate a result like that, but he didn't have to know that. When the young man shook his head frantically, she asked, "Do you think you can climb?"

He bit his lip, but nodded. "I'll have to try."

Meren took a few steps back and spotted a tree to which she could knot the end of her climbing rope. Pulling the this out of her satchel, she knotted the one end around the tree trunk and dropped the other end down into the hole.

The human hobbled over and tossed his staff up next to her. He pulled himself out only to collapse heavily, his face gone ashen from the pain in his injured leg.

He's never going to get out of my forest that way, Meren thought, but pity was beginning to take the place of her irritation and she reached into her bag to locate her healing supplies. She had always assumed that the reason she was less inclined to automatic violence than the rest of her kin was because she never wanted to hurt something when she was used to patching things up instead.

Finding what she needed, she crouched down and began to tug at his boot. He immediately gave a shriek of pain and swatted her hands away. "What are you doing, elf-girl?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

The frown she gave made him shrink back. Momentarily puzzled that he should find her threatening when she was clearly trying to help, she answered calmly, "You're hurt or have you not noticed? I was going to wrap that up for you until you could find a better-trained healer, but if you'd rather just sit here alone in an area known to be patrolled by wild cats, that's your choice."

Okay, so that was a lie, but maybe he'd let her help if he thought trouble would approach soon.

He stared into the distance as though Meren had brought an assortment of large pet cats with her. Holding back a chuckle, she grabbed his boot again. This time he remained still and allowed her to work, but it wasn't until she'd finished and given him some herbs to chew on to help with the pain that the color returned to his face.

Using the staff to get to his feet, he tested his ankle. "This is much better. Thank you."

Meren shrugged as she put healing kit back into her bag. She didn't really know what to say to that because she probably shouldn't have helped him. Even her brother would have left him in the pit... or perhaps not. Kryro wasn't like the rest of her kin, either, and would likely have lifted him out of the hole only to leave him injured and alone. A rescue followed by a healing certainly wasn't the traditional way of dealing with intruders.

(Originally written and shared in October 2011)

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It appears that the centaur was right, Phillip mused to himself as he crossed the undeniably empty village. There was nothing. He could have charged in here with an army and trumpets blaring and there wouldn't have been any more reaction. There was also a definite lack of any centaurs; he'd passed many a monster corpse, but no sign of anyone not green and none of those once-monsters had on them anything remotely like what his master was seeking, either. He was about to give up the search when a ball of flame shot up towards the sky not far to his left.

Quickly snatching up a rock and pulling a piece of lightly-glowing phosphorescent moss from the pouch at his belt, he muttered a few words and waved his fingers above both objects until the rock began to emit a bright glow. This was a waste of magic, but he didn't feel like fumbling through his pack for a torch and he wanted to hurry to see what caused the blast without tripping over something in the rapidly fading light. Rock in hand, he scurried forward. If nothing else, he could beam anything that approached in the head with the stone, as unlikely as that would be in this ghost town.

Phillip figured there there was no need to be silent and began softly calling out when he neared the spot from where he guessed the blast had come. As he approached yet more fallen masonry, he heard a weak shout from somewhere nearby. Whatever it was, it wasn't a language he knew, but it didn't sound threatening so he followed it. He was led to a small hole in what seemed to be a much more recently collapsed building. Holding the glowing rock above his head to try to see in the gap, he was startled by two gleaming green eyes staring up. Whatever the eyes belonged to said something. From the tone of voice, it was probably something like "help," although for all he knew, it could have been saying "artichoke."

"Stand back," he informed whatever was down there. It didn't matter that whoever this was wouldn't understand him. At least he'd given warning. "I'm going to drop this in so we can see."

Whatever was down there stopped blathering, as though it knew he was trying to help. He thought for a moment. No, definitely a she, which probably meant the centaur he was asked to find. How was he supposed to lift up a horse? The eyes moved back a pace and he dropped the stone. As she reached down to grab it hesitantly like she was afraid it would be hot, Phillip stared. She was neither the centaur he'd been expecting nor the orc he feared it would be. Instead, staring up at him with eyes so frightened and wide that he could clearly make out the whites, was a young elf. She appeared to be his age, but with elves that guess could be decades off. She was garbed mostly in leather in shades of what must have once been russet and brown but were now almost uniformly grey. Even the green tattoos that wound around her skin were mostly a dull, grimy grey. Her pulled-back brown hair had fallen partly out of its tie and was also caked in dust.

"Here, I'll throw down a rope.” It wasn't until he saw the shocked look of comprehension on her face and her frantic nod that he realized he hadn't spoken in his language, but the Halfling tongue, the language he'd learned as a child and had rarely used since. Now why would I say that to an elf? he began to wonder, but shook his head. Whatever the reason, she seemed to know it, anyway. He reached into his bag for the rope he'd picked up at the wall. "Hold on.”

He dropped it down and within seconds the girl had scampered up, weighing surprisingly little. Phillip realized why when she got to her feet after first giving what sounded like a small prayer of thanks to the ground. She was about a foot shorter than he was, which was normal for an elf, he supposed. To Phillip’s relief, the frantic, scared look was now gone from her eyes. He'd had no idea how to deal with a violent centaur and would have had even less of an idea of what to do with a frightened elf.

She bit her bottom lip and stepped further away from the crumbled building, then dipped her head. "Thank you greatly for getting me out of there.”

Phillip was about to brag about how it was no big deal and how he rescued young women on a regular basis when she snatched the rope out of his hands. "Wait a second, this is my rope, isn't it? Did my brother send you over?"

Thrown off by the fact that the girl was unmoved by his chivalry, he could only blink at the last part of her questioning. He glanced off into the distance expecting to see the rampaging horse-man coming after him with a log. "That was your brother? He said he was looking for a sister, but I'd assumed that was another centaur. He was frightening! Err... no offense intended.”

The girl broke into a chuckling fit that she tried unsuccessfully to hide behind her hand. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then asked, "Kryro? Frightening? What, did he get tangled in a tree and bring it down on you?"

Okay, that was maybe why he thought "halfling.” Her laughter certainly sounded like the ones he'd known. But he hadn't known that before trying their language on her... Crossing his arms over his chest, Phillip frowned. "I'm serious. There was a tree involved and he was beating a gate with it."

She looked at him for a second, then raised an eyebrow, shifting the vine tattoos near her eyes. Phillip found this surprisingly charming and was glad when she interrupted that thought by saying, "You're serious? He must really have been worried. He doesn't usually-"

A thought seemed to occur to her and she stopped mid-sentence to start again. Did all elves jump annoyingly from subject to subject like this? "But how did you find me?"

"There was a ball of fire.” Phillip stared at her as he said those words. Surely this small elf hadn't... "Did you do that?"

She had to be a wizard, too. He didn't think elves, or at least any kind of elf colored to look like a tree, had wizards, but where else would that fireball have come from?

The girl fidgeted with the glowing rock, tossing it from hand to hand. "I thought I'd imagined that. I was so frightened and worried.... then this necklace thing I picked up felt warm and then that...that fire thing happened."

This called Phillip's attention to the simple necklace hanging from her neck. In the light of the magicked rock, it almost appeared to have a dim green glow. Could this be what his master was looking for? As the pair made their way over to the nearest part of the wall, he tried to recall exactly what the old wizard had said about it. From the girl's comments and what he thought he remembered about it... yes, it was likely one and the same as the item he sought. Even if it wasn't, something powerful enough to cause elves to shoot arcane flame would likely be almost as good of a prize in the eyes of his master. How to get it off the girl, though...

As she secured the rope so they could climb back down from the wall, he asked as nonchalantly as he could in an attempt to keep his voice free of that hope of possible impending freedom, "Were you going to keep that?"

She touched the stone of the necklace. "This, you mean? I did find it. Yes, I am."

Phillip cursed silently to himself. Time to turn up the charm. "But do you think I could have it? I did rescue you."

The elf almost looked as though she was going to agree then shook her head. "No. If it's all the same, I'd rather keep it. This could be useful."

He gave another mental curse, this time stronger. He'd have to do what he should and normally would have done in the first place. When both of them were back on the ground, he started to chant softly, counting on her apparent lack of knowledge of his language to disguise what he was saying, and moved his hands in a theatrical gesture which he, however, couldn't hide. She had time to ask, "What are you-" before she crumpled to the ground deep in sleep. He gently removed the amulet with the now purple glow from around her neck. He thought briefly of leaving her there and darting off, but a voice inside that he was coming to recognize and rather dislike instead made him pick her up and swing her over his shoulder. He dropped the chain over his neck and bent down to retrieve the torch-stone she'd dropped. Then, moving clockwise around the wall, he headed to where he'd last seen the centaur.

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Kryro was not happy. His sister had been in there for two days and that human still had not come back, either. He knew he shouldn't have trusted a shady-looking human. He was probably long gone by now, having stolen Meren's rope and likely using it to scale from a side not visible to the centaur. Blasted two-leggers. Cannot trust any of them. Elves excluded, he added hastily. Those you could always just trust to do something thickheaded and dangerous.

When he saw the human come around the wall carrying a light in his hand, Kryro had been about to take those silent insults out on him when he realized the man was also carrying an unconscious and rather grimy Meren. Kryro galloped over. "What happened to her?"

The human lowered Meren to the ground, gently Kryro was relieved to see. He hesitated for a moment, then stood, brushing at the embroidered stars on his black robe. "I think she was hit in the head. She should be coming around soon, but you should probably get her out of here."

You do not have to tell me that twice, Kryro thought to himself. He knelt down, never a fast motion when graced with so many legs, and felt her forehead. Or tried to. The centaur yanked his arm back when a spark leapt over to his hand. 

Luckily that spark seemed to shake her awake. Blinking up at Kryro, her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. "You're green," Meren mumbled dazedly in Halfling. 

Kryro looked down to see what she meant. He was still the same shades of brown he had always been. Now it was his turn for confusion. "Meer, are you okay? Why would I be green?"

Meren rubbed her head and sat up. Still speaking that language, she muttered, "Feel all tingly..." 

That wasn’t exactly an answer. He glanced over at the human who looked posed to run away. When he realized Kryro's gaze was on him, the man gave a sheepish shrug. Kryro had been called many things: large, good with languages, clumsy, horsebutt- gee, thank you for that one, Meer- but never stupid. He knew that human was hiding something.

Dazed though she was, Meren was on top of this. How she was on top of it, though, left Kryro even more disturbed. She blinked at the man a time or two, then switched to a vindictive glare as she climbed to her feet, muttering low in Elvish. To the centaur's bewilderment, it sounded much like "Winged creatures of the forest, aid me.” She gestured towards the wood behind them, then point at the human, whose necklace momentarily flickered between purple and green. The man was now most certainly not looking comfortable. When a swarm of bats flew out of the treetops and towards his head, he became even less so. Giving a yelp, he turned and bolted, trying to outrun something that could move far faster than he.

This left Kryro satisfied, but also incredibly worried and even more disconcerted. Before he could ask Meren what in the name of the earth spirits had just happened, she collapsed to her knees. The centaur had the presence of mind to catch her before she fell and held her steady.

"What is going on?" he demanded, his voice breaking from worry.

Meren blinked at him. "I don't... what happened?"

It was rather fuzzy to the centaur. Why did this feel so familiar?

"There was a human here. You threw... bats... at him." He wasn't sure if he wanted that memory to clear up or not, it seemed so strange.

Meren looked perplexed for a moment, then simply nodded. If Kryro had to guess, he would say she was simply too overwhelmed and tired to care about flying things, a fact which bothered him greatly. That had looked suspiciously like magic, but she was no shaman… Kryro shook his head. Whatever Meren was or was not, she was still his sister and he still had to get her home safely. "Just get on my back."

Dazedly she started to argue. "But centaurs don't let people-"

"Most centaurs do not have exhausted elven sisters who have been throwing woodland creatures around until they appear ready to pass out for a second time.”

She frowned but listened, climbing up and wrapping her arms around his chest to keep in place. As they fled back into the woods, Kryro felt warmth on his chest. Emerald sparks flashed between Meren's hands and grounded on his skin. It didn't hurt, but it tingled slightly and he wondered if this was the feeling she'd mentioned earlier. Whatever it was, he hoped it was harmless. He knew Meren would never do anything to hurt him... or at least the Meren he knew would not. The fact that she was sparking and summoning nocturnal animals was worrisome. He had the feeling that they should keep this a secret.

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Phillip inched around the wall taking care not to make a sound. His reason for lurking was a pointless quest given by his master to find something only mentioned in whispered and vague rumors. It was no surprise to him that the apprentice was the one sent on this fool's errand.

To make matters worse, leads he had followed had led him to believe that the rumored thing did in fact exist and was located here. Here, in the same location as a group of orcs and gods only knew what else. If he came back empty handed, or at least without bearing word of its whereabouts, his master would not be at all pleased- and that would be an understatement. The old wizard had never been particularly kind, but over the past year or two he'd become downright... well, evil, in his apprentice's opinion, although "unhinged," "paranoid" and "shady" would be other words said apprentice would throw into the mix, although most definitely not while in his trigger-happy master's presence. He liked his feet where they were, thank you very much.

As inane as this task was, perhaps if Phillip retrieved the magic amulet it would allow his master to lose some of that horrible paranoia and return to normal... or at least to the level of eccentricity that he had started out. If nothing else, maybe it would please the old man enough that he'd finally advance his apprentice to master Illusionist, meaning Phillip could get as far away from Bluecoast as possible and never have to deal with that madman again. 

So maybe this search wasn't so pointless after all.

Phillip had heard no sound coming from within the wall as he looped his way around and was caught by surprised when a ruckus of clangs and thumps came from a section of the wall he'd already checked once. When he stepped away from the wall to look around the curve of the stone, he spotted something that surprised him even further: a male centaur slamming an iron gate with what Phillip could only think of as a tree. As he watched, the stallion- if that was the term for someone with the top half of a human- tossed the large log aside. He let out a growl of frustration and began tugging at the gate with his bare hands, accomplishing nothing more than rattling the iron.

Phillip's sense of self-preservation told him to quickly head the other way, as far from this angry beast as possible, but curiosity led him forward. He crept forward in his soft, silent boots and stopped a few yards away just as the horse-man gave another shout. As Phillip watched, the centaur seemed to give up. He bowed his head low and brought his much-abused hands up to his head to pull at his already disheveled hair. Phillip wasn't sure if that was how centaurs normally wore their hair, but was willing to bet it was from an extended time of frustration.

At a loss about what to do about a distraught centaur, Phillip nervously cleared his throat. 

When the centaur spotted him, he didn't reach for the discarded tree as Phillip had feared. Instead the centaur gestured at the gate. "Please! Your aid I need. My sister in there be!"

And here was another surprise: the pleading centaur spoke his language. While heavily accented, he was perfectly understandable.

"Woah. Hold on." Phillip held his arms out in front of him to deter the pleading in the centaur's voice and bleary brown eyes. "There are orcs in there. I can't just wander in and ask them to hand someone over."

The centaur shook his head hastily, causing the braids mixed into his hair to fling over his shoulders. "No! Gone most of them should be. Her kin cleared them out and left, but never did she leave."

That didn't sound too promising for the missing sister. "But how do you know she's-"

The centaur glared at him with enough vehemence to cause Phillip to take a few steps back.

"Their injured they removed and with them she was not. Inside she must then still be. Get her, I would, but," he now directed his stare at the gate and Phillip was almost surprised not to see this one melt like the gate to the west, "enter I cannot."

The centaur again turned to look at the human. "Gone the orcs all should be. For now. Get her out before more come, I would like. For her please look."

Phillip sighed. This was not how he wanted to spend his day and any other time he'd have hurried away from such a request. He did have to get inside, though, especially if it were true and the orcs were all dead, so this would be a chance to appear to do something heroic without that being his actual goal. "I could try, I suppose... but how would I get in?"

The centaur turned and pointed to a rope dangling from the wall to the west which Phillip hadn't noticed. It blended so well into the grey of the stone that unless you knew it was there, it couldn't be seen. "To get in that did she use." There was such intense entreaty in his eyes that Phillip had to look away. "So look for her you will?"

Phillip gave a slight nod. The centaur let out a whoop and swished his tail, then said, "Wait for you here I shall."

Phillip walked over to the rope and yanked to be sure of its strength. It seemed okay, so he quickly tied back his long hair and tucked his robe into his belt. It wasn't until he had reached the top of the wall, stored the rope on his pack, and located a set of stairs leading down into the ruin of the town that the thought occurred to him, Wait, how did a centaur get over the wall using a rope?

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Meren opened her groggy eyes and blinked dazedly at the dim light. Her thoughts were sluggish and she rubbed the back of her head as she sat up. Where am I? I feel like a building fell on me... As she looked up at the small hole in the ceiling that let in the waning sunlight, she recalled that it technically had.

She groped around for her backpack until she found it near her feet. This she began digging through but quickly threw down with a frustrated curse. She'd left her grappling hook and rope behind on the wall, hadn't she? She'd been in such a hurry to explore that not only was it now no use for her, anything could use it to get in... No, that was a ridiculous thought. No one would want to break into a village of orcs.

Right, orcs, that was why she was here! She climbed unsteadily to her feet and listened for any sound. Nothing. She could call out, but would alerting a potential enemy to her location be wise? Probably not. But as the daylight faded, she cursed the lack of something useful in her bag. She needed a torch, a candle, anything that lit. She had never needed this before when her people's sight adjusted well to moonlight, so it had never occurred to her to carry a source of light.

She dropped to the ground and extended her arms to see if there was anything here she could use. Her hands found shapeless and unidentifiable debris, but nothing that had potential for fire. Further groping in the dark located her bow, thankfully still in one piece. As it was little use at the moment and she didn't want to lose it again, she unstrung it and tucked into her quiver. When she returned to her exploration, something sharp brushed her finger. She snatched her hand back and wrapped it quickly in the fold of her tunic. Fumbling around blindly in the dark was pointless, unless the point was to jab herself with shards of broken glass. She half stood so she could feel along with her boot and toppled back over when she tripped on something that rolled. She instantly regretted reaching down to see what she'd kicked. Smooth and cool, it could only be bone. She grimaced and forced herself to reach forward. Yes, that was a skeleton. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. As she was about to climb back to her feet to get as far away from this as possible, her hand knocked something that skittered across the dirt floor. Torn between disgust, the rising panic of being underground, and curiosity, curiosity won out. 

On the lookout for more glass and bones, she inched across the floor on hands and knees until she found what she'd flung away. It was some kind of cold stone on a chain. Unsure of why she did so as it was absolutely no help in the dark, she dropped the chain over her head, then retreated back over to the wall. Within a moment her hands found the cold stone. Hadn't the hole seemed larger, vaster, infinite just a moment ago?

Was it a moment ago? How much time had passed since she fell down here? Meren shut her eyes tightly and grasped at the stone lying against her chest. Morning would come soon enough. Perhaps in the light she'd be able to to see a ladder out of here. Right, she thought, and 'Ro will lead a centaur rescue party that's magically able to climb walls. May as well wish for the unattainable.

After a fitful night of little rest, Meren was awoken by light glinting off the broken glass and into her eyes. She stood and stretched out kinks from sleeping in a corner. Her view was no better by the filtered slight light of morning. No magical ladder or grappling hook- or centaur rescue party- greeted her. What she did learn, however, was that the skeleton had been staring at her all that time. She stepped back until her shoulders bumped the wall. Judging from the shape of its skull and teeth, it had been some sort of goblinoid. This didn't bother her too much; at least it was long-dead instead of recent. Sharing this hole with a freshly dead monster would have been unbearable.

As the day wore on and the little light filtering through the crack in the ceiling began to fade again, something did become distressing: the lack of sky, trees, fresh air. She couldn't go another night trapped here in the dark. No elf could. She began to shout, no longer caring if the attention it brought was something that meant her harm. She cried out her brother's name, general pleading alternating with cursing, anything to catch the attention of something. Anything.

It was to no avail. She shouted until she was hoarse and exhausted, then grasped for her waterskin to drain it of the last few drops. She needed to do something to let Kryro know that she was here- he had to still be out there!- but nothing was down here except some trash and a goblin skeleton. A skeleton that grinned at her from somewhere in the darkness. Darkness underground in a space that seemed to be getting smaller by the minute... What had she gotten herself into?

Exhausted and starting to hyperventilate, she sunk to the ground directly under the gap in the ceiling to try to get as far away from those walls as possible. Again she clutched at the necklace resting against her leather armor. In the dim light of day she'd been able to make out that it was something vaguely green and gold, but also entirely useless as anything except an ornament. When it began to grow warm, she figured she was growing delusional from being caught in the one place a wood elf would never voluntarily go or possibly delirious from lack of water and that knot on the back of her head. Telling herself that she'd only shout one more time, she called in a cracking voice, "Kryro, get help! I'm here!"

Something made her point up at the bit of moonlight and she gasped when a bright flickering of flame shot out of her hand. That got her to stop stressing about being underground. She stared at her hand in utter disbelief and wondered if she was truly going mad. Elves didn't spawn fire and she was pretty sure that halflings didn't, either. She'd been in here for too long. Far too long.

She could almost hear that ex-goblin laughing at her terror. She covered her pointed ears with her hands and shut her eyes. Silently she willed her brother to get her out, Somehow, please! He always called himself her protector although she'd never felt as though she had need of one. Now, though, she took back every time she'd glared at him for saying that. She would gladly accept protection if it meant getting out of here and returning to her trees and the open air.

With her eyes so tightly closed, she failed to notice a small glow of light in the old cellar. The amulet she wore around her neck had turned a shining, gleaming green.

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