The Renegades

[Meldawen]

Mirrim made to rise, breath jolted out of her by the fall, but in a moment had dropped flat again to avoid a stray lightning bolt and several wildly swinging staffs. In another instant the forest around her was aflame.

Druids - soldiers - one lone figure on horseback - bewildered, Mirrim swiveled to look helplessly at the surrounding mayhem. This was her chance to escape - but where to? Skidding in the brush, she made for an opening and stopped dead with a yell as the trees before her burst into flame.

Smoke made her eyes water and blur as Mirrim stumbled back from the flaming brush. Dead bodies already dotted the eerily orange-lit forest.

[RaistlinMajere]

All the abductors were either dead or too wounded to be of any use. All that remained was the lone wizard on horseback and the girl. Justice had been served this night. Though the Druids were compassionate in the extreme, they were far from the sniveling weaklings - or the pugnacious monsters for that part - the other half of the world thought them to be.

Brown robes steaming with flame, the Druid Talmarrus confirmed that his companions were efficaciously dousing the harmful fire before stepping forward to confront the lone man on horseback. He bumped into the girl on the way and rested a weathered hand on her shoulder. The sandy-haired, middle-aged Druid gazed musingly up at Malcar. "You were not allied with the kidnappers," he observed. "Who are you?"

[Ember]

Malcar`s eyes narrowed as he eyed the druid questioning him, apparently they seemed more reasonable than Malcar had expected all tough Malcar himself partially wasn`t reasonable at all. Malcar calmed his horse and gazed at the girl before looking at the druid to give him his answer.

"I am one who takes great interest in affairs such as this one, why do a group of guards men kidnap the daughter of a tanner? Then why do druids interfere? All very sneaky, if you ask me, but perhaps you could enlighten me in the matter. That is if you are willing to hear reason?"

[Meldawen]

Mirrim couldn't help but be horrified at the sudden profusion of dead and maimed soldiers around her - she'd never seen very many weapons, let alone seen them used. Was this all because of her?! And now a druid she'd never seen before seemed to know who she was, and this figure on horseback seemed honor bound to defend her somehow -

"I don't understand," she managed, voice trembling slightly.

[RaistlinMajere]

Talmarrus spared a sympathetic glance Mirrim's way, but concentrated on the man before him. In the voluminous sleeves of his robes he performed a few mystical passes, sending a subtle probe into the stranger's mind. He found it barred as surely as though walled by steel.

"We Druids watch after our own," was his simple response. "We are on a rescue mission and do not have the time to parley with you now. I ask you one question - friend or foe?"

[Ember]

"In that question lies a dilemma druid"

Malcar said with narrowed eyes as he examined the druid, but hmphed and smirked at the druid. There was something still left out of the puzzle, she was not a druid and they seemed to be in a rush. This needed more digging, if he was going to find anything useful from it.

"I guess I am a friend as I understand that like myself you druids believe in the gods, don`t you?"

[Ven]

Ethaniel tried but failed miserably to mask his surprise. Cirron! (if i remember your name correctly)

Ethaniel stood up, went up to the slave, and tilted the slave's head a little bit upwards.

Then he backed off. He recognized his childhood friend now, although he had... changed.

he was different.

But once a friend, always a friend, in Ethaniel's opinion.

"I'm Ethaniel. We were friends, once. I'd like us to still be friends now." He introduced.

"I can get you out of here, if you are willing." He said quietly.

He was betrayign a commision, he knew. But friendship mattered more than employers' trust.

[RaistlinMajere]

If Cirron hadn't been awake before, he was now. When the soldier tilted his head, he'd managed to get one hard look at the hazel eyes. The distinctive scars had masked his identity before, but now Cirron realized with stunning clarity -

"Ethaniel!"

Memories deluged him - warm summer nights in Aresbree, lying on the grass and staring at the stars, catching fish with their bare hands down by the creek. Old Ramlet chasing them with his cane, shrieking something incoherent about his allergy to cats. Tar the smithy never discovered who dropped the frog into his supper. And the sparring match they'd had over who claimed the privilege of dancing with Arria at the spring fair - a duel Cirron had miserably lost.

The man before him was a far cry from the roguish boy he'd once known. But the hard glint in those hazel eyes was familiar as ever.

"You're a warrior," Cirron observed, attempting a warm smile despite his parched and bleeding lips. His admiring gaze roved over Ethaniel's two cobalt swords, took in the easy grace with which his friend moved. Ethaniel's superior musculature had once been the object of Cirron's extreme envy, but he found himself thinking little of it now. The Druid apprentice knew his calling in life, as demonstrated that fateful day when he'd departed Aresbree to follow the Druid band passing through. He frowned slightly and considered his friend's proposal. "I don't... I can't ask this of you, Ethaniel. They'd kill you if they found out."

--------

Talmarrus's only response was a cool inclination of his head. Despite the doctrines of mercy and compassion, he found it difficult to trust especially when so many would rejoice to see Druid heads on pikes. But the stranger appeared capable, and where they were headed, they would need all the assistance they could receive. Which also meant the surmounting stakes if the stranger betrayed them.

At length he resigned his doubts to the back of his mind. There was little he could do now but keep a wary eye on him. "Talmarrus," he introduced curtly. Quarterstaff thumping on the soft ground, he turned and strode to where their horses were tethered. "You may ride with us if you wish, though I warn you that our destination is imminent danger. Master Falconhand, see to the girl if you will."

His second-in-command, Master F'taen Falconhand, nodded and offered the visibly pale girl a hand up onto the saddle. She was pretty in her own way, the stern warlord noted, with braided brown hair and large blue eyes.

Talmarrus wheeled his roan around to survey his companions. Excluding Mirrim and Malcar, they numbered three in total, a motley band of volunteers who'd agreed to join the rescue mission of their own volition. Lord Eruditis had little to spare.

[Ven]

"You're not asking this of me," Ethaniel replied quietly, "I'm willing to do this. Willingly. For a friend."

"If you still consider me one." He added.

With that Ethaniel took out the flask at his hip [did not want to say hip-flask... reminds me of Moody] and held it out to his one-time friend.

"Here, here's some water in here. Tell you what, I'm going to get something to treat your back with, so you'd have to wait at least a day to get out of here. But I promise, as soon as you're better, I'll help you escape." Ethaniel said hurriedly. He then took the half-empty flask back.

"As for me, I'll just go with you. a day or two won't make you completely well. I can't stay here after helping you escape, anyway. We don't have much time here, I'll find a way t--"

"Very touching," a cold, clipped voice said behind them. A man with an eyepatch stood behind them, broadsword out.

The guard captain.

Ethaniel's heart sank. How could he be so stupid? he didn't even hear the captain come down. He'd taken too long.

Ethaniel looked at his choices: Attempt to break out now for a glimmer of hope, or get them both killed right here, right now if he surrendered.

There wasn't a contest.

Swords flew out of their sheathes, meeting the broadsword head on with two loud metallic rings. Ethaniel swore. This will bring down every guard on their heads.

The captain was a bulky man, withyears of experience behind him. Ethaniel could not hope to meet him head on. He attempted a slash with one sword at the inside of the captain's thigh, and while the broadsword moved to defend the delicate muscle, he rammed with all his strength down on the captain's skull with the butt of his sword.

He went down like stone.

Ethaniel took one hand to wipe the sweat beading on his brow, and grabbed his friend by one arm. He ran up the stairs.

[Sparrowhawk]

Well, I made use of my time while grounded and came up with a name. Naturally, the rest of the character flowed from it.

Name: Aedon Mandehvor
Age: 29
Affiliation: Divine Order
Hair color: Red
Eye color: Blue-grey (always! )
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 190 lbs
Attire: Green, white, and brown tunic, trousers, etc.
Weapons: Long-hilted, slightly-curved sword and a dagger or two
Background: Aedon was born in a small town to a well-off family. Not the most well-off, but certainly not poor. He had a kind father and a loving mother. Unfortunately for him, it all was for naught when he was recruited into the Divine Order by a Follower who had sparked his interest, but was less than subtle. Many others also were talked into joining the Order, but they attracted too much attention. Two entire regiments of the local armsmen had rounded them up, all except for a very few, and taken them off to the slave camps--those they did not execute, that is.
Aedon was one of those that escaped. His parents were not. His motives in joining the Order merely reinforced, Aedon put his heart and soul into the efforts of Eruditis' Order. However, he had no desire to become a Druid. Over the staff he chose the sword, because his underlying desire at all times is to cut down those who took away his parents, not watch them vanish in a burst of magic. He is a warrior with a vengeance.

----

I'll post a storyline thing later. Suffice it to say for now that I intend for him to meet up with Talmarrus, Raist. You can bring it around to that, if you want.

[RaistlinMajere]

Cirron nearly choked on his gratitude. Hope had arrived incarnate in someone he thought he'd never see again. The gods had spoken, and Master Falconhand had been right in teaching him patience. But he didn't have long to dwell on the fact, he felt adrenaline galvanize him to action as Ethaniel seized his arm and dragged him up the stairs.

But of course the guard captain was too prudent to come alone.

The steel-reinforced door swung open before Ethaniel ever touched it, admitting no less than a dozen guards. Swords rattling, they closed in through the narrow opening. They'd rallied in full force, intending to make an example of any who disobeyed the slave code. Cirron held no illusions of efficaciously wielding the bulky broadsword, so he snatched up the unconscious guard captain's dirk. He immediately recognized it as a far cry from the quarterstaff or even the glaive he was accustomed to using. Recognizing the futility, he dropped it and instead concentrated his paltry vestiges of energy, turning his focus inwards towards the discipline and meditation he'd been trained to summon.

At the peak of his power Master Falconhand could engender an earthquake, but Cirron's insufficient strength only allowed a minimal tremor - which suited him just fine in the tunnel's close confines. It was enough to topple the foremost of their enemies and allow Ethaniel an opening.

---------

At first Talmarrus feared that they'd arrived too late. From his vantage on the bluff, he sighted a sizable commotion in the slave camp below. But no - it was not the furor caused by an execution. The guards were in pandemonium. Some were rigorously whipping the other slaves back to work, while others crowded at the dungeon doors. As he watched, a tremor shook the steel-reinforced doorframe.

"A minor earthquake by Druidic magic," observed F'taen Falconhand, shielding his eyes against the afternoon glare. A small smile tinged ever so slightly with pride crept over his stern features. "Cirron." An instant later the smile disappeared, replaced by concern.

Talmarrus surveyed the others. He couldn't include Mirrim in the rescue, but neither could he leave her here with Malcar, though the mage had exhibited little hostility during their short journey. What potent magic-user hid among villagers? Malcar made him uneasy, but the only method to keep an eye on him was to carry him along. He inwardly scowled at the thought.

"Master Mandehvor," he spoke to the third member of their initial party. He'd only known the warrior for a few days, but already he'd come to trust Aedon's skill and resolve. "I intend to make this incursion quick. Engage the guards at the dungeon doors. Master Falconhand, bolster him. Free any prisoners you can, but keep yourselves alive. Lord Eruditis would not forgive me if I oversaw your demise." He snapped his authoritive tone to Malcar and Mirrim. "Stay with me as I engage the rest of the guards in the pit. Mirrim, keep out of our way." He'd spoken more harshly than necessary, but the girl had to understand the gravity of the situation.

[Ven]

Ethaniel did not have to be pointed to the opening. He did somethign he rarely did in situations.

He charged.

The guards, still recovering from the minor tremor that shook the stone building, had to steady their footing and deal with an oncoming warrior. And there wasn't much distance between them. They were, after all, in a prison. Ethaniel cut down two front guards before the others recovered sufficiently to deal with him. He was outnumbered. At least 10 to one.
He hated odds like this, especially since he'd been in a situation like this, and it did not turn out pretty.

And there was the matter that they were in an enclosed space. But that gave him an advantage. Ethaniel kicked the chair at the guards' legs, some stumbled over it, and some jumped back reflexively to avoid breaking a leg on the chair. They forgot that they, too , were in an enclosed space, and rammed into their companions behind them, creating chaos among the guards.

Ethaniel hoped this would give them some time. He let himself enjoy this battle, ignoring the injuries he was receiving, but dealing thrice back in his joy in battle.

now, he was lusting for blood.

[Meldawen]

Mirrim, surveying the slave camp in wide-eyed dismay, listened in anxious silence and nodded her understanding. A shiver raced up her spine. Was this where she had been bound for before the druids had intervened? She owed them more gratitude than she'd thought.

She brushed off some faint notion of possibly attempting to aid them. Magic she knew enough of to possibly light a candle, due to the generosity of an aging village herbalist, but certainly not enough to do anything useful in a fight. And Mirrim had never even seen half the weapons they carried, let alone used them.

"Is - is this where - I would have gone? If you had not come?" she ventured timidly, searching his face.

[Ember]

"That shouldn`t be a problem at all, a few guards is not much of a challenge if we play it together, but do procceed with caution when using your magic. It would be a shame, if I would get hit"

He said with smirk followed by a chuckle as he examined the slave camp, if it had been up to him he would used his powers to call forth a rain of fire upon this bloody camp to scorch the guards as well as the slaves. Malcar shrugged and looked at Mirrim would not prove useful in this situation, but at least she could tick back and do what she could. Malcar turned to Talmarrus.

"Shall we go then?"

[Sparrowhawk]

Aedon smiled. It was not a pretty sight. As much as he believed in the gods, he believed more in his sword. His skill with the sword, to be precise. Being precise was something he did not like. Precision was useful with a weapon, but pointless with words. Simple was best. Simplicity was what won fights for him. Simplicity, and his sword. The gods might help, but no more than that.

By now, guards were rushing into the depths of the building in front of him. With slaves milling about, no longer under the eyes of their guards, it was a simple matter to avoid detection. In fact, there was no real need to make any effort. Enough slaves were clustered around that he doubted the guards could see if they tried. They likely were being precise. Simple was best. Reaching the building, Aedon flattened himself against the side, careful not to make any sounds as he slowly worked his way towards the corner. Once he was around there, the guards would go down easily. Glancing over his shoulder though, he sighed. Master Falconhand was releasing slaves on his way, and they naturally fled to the shelter of the forest. It would have been best to wait until after the guards were dead. Those inside the building were already dead, even if they didn't know it. Trapped between two druids and Aedon, they had no chance of survival.

Aedon held his breath at the corner, listening for any sound of movement among the two guards still standing at the front door. None. Still wearing his cold smile, he spun around the corner, already working his sword in the forms he knew so well. With a shock of steel meeting flesh that sent tremors up his arms, his sword cut up under the nearer guard's ribcage. Oddly enough, when a person was stabbed there, or cut deeply enough, they seemed to be unable to cry out. It was useful, regardless of the reasons, though. Simple, too. Simple was best. The second guard actually managed to lay a hand on the hilt of his sword before Aedon's boot caught him in the throat, the sound of cartilage cracking plainly heard. At least, to those nearby. Those inside would be lucky to have any warning at all. Gesturing to Master Falconhand, Aedon smiled. The guards inside would not be lucky. He would see to it himself. Simply. Simple was, after all, best.