Carved in Stone pt. 2

Drakesreach Sierra 

The Drakesreach Sierra: A rugged range of rocky hills that feature an irregular and jagged profile, distinguished by the ashen rise of the snow-tipped Dragonspine Mountains to the far north, and the transformation of rolling plains into more somber auburn grasslands and bleaker lapidarian terrain that stretches between the foot of the mountain range to the north, the lush Verdigris Forest to the south, the crystal waters of the Jadesnake to the west, and the dry lowlands to the east.

Aubern becomes granite as smoothly as night becomes day upon the higher flats of the Drakesreach Sierra; the harsh grasses and the thorny brush give way to firmer rocky soil, and the shade of ashen sweeps over the ground below, the stones that crunch underfoot offering a bleak yet welcoming change from the uphill trek. It is a temperate early evening. The air is stagnant, not stirring with the slightest breeze. A thick curtain of water drenches all under the sky.

The outer world, even in a late night downpour, still shows more light than was found in the caves behind them. Taran, as he stumbles out, practically barrels into the armored body of Jehan. The Lute is quickly shoved under his cloak, hiding its light, and he drags the Ordinator - or perhaps shoves him - toward the shadow of the pile of stones, pulling his cloak out as he does so to hide the white markings on the man's armor. "Quick!" he hisses at the others as they emerge. "Rain and dark to hide us - I hope."

Blackfox follows behind, staggering and stumbling, shaking all over but still with her arms locked around the woman they had rescued. For the last hour or two, her eyes had been locked on that lute, the source of light that had kept moving in front of her and now? Now that it was gone her legs finally give out as she pitches forward, trying to roll and take it on her shoulder as she slides to a jarring stop with a sharp cry.

Bloodstone is backpeddling at a fast rate, still drawing and firing arrows as fast as he's able to down that long dark corridor. He's unsure if he's really hitting anything, and he really doesn't care, if it slows down their pursurers even in the slightest, it'll help. Once exiting the mouth of the cave he follows after the others to some kind of safety, whistling once. He stops in moving though, seeing Blackfox go down. Throwing his bow over his shoulder, lowers himself down to haul them both back up. Crimson, who has been slightly growling at the growing noises coming from the cave, looks more than happy to see his companion once again, and doesn't hesitate following. Blood murmurs two commands to the wolf, voice raspy and hectic. "Follow. Quiet." he says nothing else, too concerned on helping Fox.

Jehan is not content to hide, it seems, and perhaps as the best armed, and best armored, man in the party he has some justification for it. He lets Taran mold himself to the tower of rocks, but himself goes to retrieve Blackfox and the unconscious burden she carries. "Come on," he says to them, doing his best to pull them out of sight. "What *are* those things?"

Blackfox yields her burden blindly to whichever pair of helpful arms reaches for it, grabbing hold of another arm to try to help pull herself to her feet, moving as best she can. Instinct is driving her to push past the pain and hide, knowing that every moment out in the open was another chance of death at the claws of the gargoyles.

Bloodstone lets the Ordinator deal with the unconcious woman, as the Hunter is more overly concerned about Fox. He helps haul the both of them up and helps guide the huntress over toward where the Taran is hidden, Crimson following next to the woman to offer a wet furred option of support. "Well done." he notes quietly, almost out of breathe.

Taran nods, using his cloak to 'rumple' his visible outline so that in the shadows he blends in better with the rocks. Looking skyward at the circling gargoyles, he murmurs, "It is open ground, from here to the Refuge."

Jehan, keeping a solid grip on the unconscious woman, rumbles, "Then we fight them here."

Blackfox pins herself up against the pile of rocks, clinging to them as she slides to her knees, trying to catch her breath. "We cannot fight them," she manages to hiss between clenched teeth, "We need help."

"The eyes...the eyes are vulnerable." Bloodstone says inbetween gasps. "Managed to stop the one that was chasing after us when I shot one of its eyes out. Running back gave me than enough time to think that chain of events over. But fighting them here, between the five of us?" he says, and says five because he counts Crimson as a capable enough fighter. "We are not going to last very long in that case."

Taran shakes his head. "Can't," he pants. "I've about half of one arm to fight with and my weapons take two to use. My best...chance was that stone. No idea where it landed, which doesn't help." Looking warily up at the sky, he says, "I...can try to make a gate. That will only save me, but if it comes down to it I can try to bring help. The path is marked."

"You...should get help..." Blackfox gasps, nodding her head.

"Go bard, and do what you can." Blood says, gasping for air. He then pauses, holding a hand up slightly. "Or better yet, I can lead them away from you three while Crimson and I give give them a run. Might give you all a chance to make it back to the Refuge unnoticed."

Taran shakes his head. "The gate is highly visible," he says. "If I can make it work at all. Cannot be done near you."

Blackfox does not say anything for the moment as she simply presses her the side of her face against the stones, trying to stop the trembling.

"I can still try to lead them away so you can attempt your magicks." Bloodstone says, then looking over at Fox, concerned plastered on his features.

The young huntress is pale, her face covered by a mix of water and blood from the wound on her scalp and the armor on her back torn and stained a deep crimson.

Over an hour passes before a white-cloaked individual wanders out of the cave, looking positively incensed, and slightly see-through. He rubs his hand through his hair, gripping a pulsating blue gem in his right hand, an onyx staff in his left.

Blackfox shrinks back against the far side of the rocks, huddling down to try to lose herself in shadow as she shivers.

Taran - not in the hottest shape himself - tries to keep things from getting too much worse. "There are more gargoyles flying overhead, master Faeyd."

Bloodstone, being the only not injured thus far in the expedition peeks over the grouping of rocks that hides the group. "He's a friend of yours?" he asks Taran.

"I HAVE MET THEM ALL IN PERSON!" booms the irate archmagi, attracting a few of the gargoyles' attention, who wheel about in lower and lower circles around the man. "Where are we, and what is one good reason I shouldn't leave you to them?"

Blackfox raises her head, arms wrapped around herself as she looks at this stranger, remaining silent, cowed by his presence.

Taran blows out a breath, taking on the demeanor of a student that has just gotten sent to the headmaster for, well, being stupid. "It is to do with Eliare, master Faeyd," says Taran, stepping away from the rocks. After all, clawed by gargoyles or blasted by archmagi, dead is dead. "The story is a long one - but this place, we are north and a bit east of Crown's Refuge, and the archmage Tshepsi said that Eliare is involved in this. So...Duhnen is also involved in this." It isn't, overall, that coherent a summary. Running a few miles while wounded might factor into that.

Bloodstone retakes his bow in his hands and watches the flying statues make their decent on the archmage. He doesn't bother to add in own opinion, as its most likely not needed.

"Obviously you haven't talked to Duhnen, or you wouldn't be with...what?" He attempts to peer around Taran to see who he's with, frowning. "Three, four other people? Light, Taran! Are you really that dense?" One of the gargoyles attempts to sweep at him, but passes through the archmage's semi-transparent form. However, another looks like he's spotted Taran, and begins to do figure eights above him. "If that...Light, Taran. Did you think about this at all?" He looks across the group, his eyes unfocusing. "Only one other Touched? That's the most....Light! There are much less dramatic ways to commit suicide than sleep with unstable magi and throw yourself at creatures of Shadow!"

"I am not...suicidal..." Blackfox finally speaks up, clamping her jaw down to try and stop her teeth from chattering. "I was told...that a woman was taken...and offered to help find her. We got her...we got her out of the cave."

Taran sighs. "Duhnen didn't tell me about hordes of gargoyles, or - whatever those talking tentacle plates were, master Faeyd," he answers, in the frustrated tone of someone who's already had a long day. "He didn't mention anything about altars with huge faces over them sucking *something* out of captured people's bodies. All he said was that once something had called him by that name, given him a circlet and robe, and tried to kill him. That is *all*!" Yes, it seems he's aware of the gargoyles, but is willing enough to let them be executioners if that's how the dice fall, because he isn't paying much attention to them. "I saw a thing, that I mistook for a dragon, taking a woman to the northeast. I wanted to help. And I did not call you before, because you have made it very clear, sir, what you think of getting involved with dragons. And then the archmage Tshepsi tells me the name Eliare is involved somehow, and a hunger and a renewal, and the *last* time I asked Duhnen for any kind of help he ignored me, so I should go and try it again while someone may be dying and he may be linked somehow to the cause? The duke Seamel may trust *you*, sir, but he most certainly does not trust *me*. So yes, I came with those who would go with me and..." and the bard deflates, wobbling a bit. "We found the woman. She is not yet dead if you wish to see her. But we cannot get free alone and *someone* had to know what we found and you were the only one I could call who might answer me."

Bloodstone is far too occupied to concerned with the topic at hand. Curretnly, he's knocked an arron in his bow and now deciding wether or not to take a shot at the gargoyle coming at Taran and thereby perhaps giving away their position, or staying relativly hidden and maybe stay out of sight.

Faeyd stares for a moment at the force of the bard's rant, just shaking his head. "We will go to the closest inn, and you will find whatever this backwater town considers a healer, because I am unwilling to heal you. And when you are healed, you will find Duhnen, and you will tell him I told him to tell you everything he knows about Eliare," he says, his words hissing between his bared teeth. "I assume this woman is the most injured?"

Blackfox weakly gestures to the unconscious woman they rescued, "She...is in most...need of help."

"They could all use assistance." Blood states firmly, his eyes still fixated on the flying gargoyles, looking for perhaps a possible clear shot at one those blue glowing eyes. Crimson for now, has taken up a defensive posture around the two injured women.

Taran seems to have exhausted himself with that outburst, because he only nods. "Blackfox carried the...offering...out," he says, much more quietly. "If we can get past the gargoyles, Bloodstone and I can get back to the others, and the Refuge. I am not too badly hurt. When the others are safe I was going to go and see if my sister would see to my injuries, and then I could help these people myself. I am sorry for the shock you must have had on your arrival. I am honestly surprised we are still alive *now*."

"As am I. We had a group of seven mages, and barely made it out with our lives," Faeyd says flatly, strolling towards the woman and kneeling down to her. "I don't think she'll make it, but I'll leave that to a healer to decide. She's lost too much of her gift." He moves to heft the unconscious woman up, nodding. "Is the inn in that tavern, then?"

"I would hear...what these people you speak of...have to say..." Blackfox says, a hint of defiance in her tone. "I would know...what I have done here tonight...and what it is I have gotten into."

"I think we are all in agreement about that." Bloodstone adds, keeping his eyes to the sky. "But after we get out the place, yes?"

Taran blinks. "Ah," he says, the lack of surprise possibly more due to exhaustion than anything else. "I believe he failed to mention the 'seven mages' part, too. It sounds as if that one sentence tale will take most of a day when properly told." He nods. "The inn in Crown's Refuge is the best place, if you will." To the other two, he nods. "I will ask Duhnen to meet us in the Refuge, if he will. He is rather busy, I would assume, with all the mages in Fastheld being penned up in one of his cities, but he may make time. Then you will know as much as I, and we can possibly do better at this not-dying idea without too much help."

Faeyd nods slowly, and he and the woman begin to glow a faint violet hue. "I will return for the three of you," he says flatly, and the sound of hornets fills the air, growing to a crescendo before the two disappear. As the archmage disappears, however, the gargoyles seem to grow a bit more bold, one swooping down to strike at Taran, and just barely missing as it pulls up for another pass.

Blackfox pulls her bow now, nocking an arrow as she watches and waits for a shot, keeping tension off of the string until the last minute, unsure how long she would be able to hold the pull. "I hope...he will be swift..."

The Hunter as found his target, as the gargoyle that swoops down at Taran, Blood draws back on the bow string. As the creature shows off it when it strikes at the bard, he aims, leads, and fires.

Taran ducks down as soon as Faeyd's made his judgement, and scoots back quickly - though somewhat drunkenly - back to his place among the rocks. "Well...that could have gone worse," he says, in the light tone of one hanging on to consciousness by sheer willpower.

"You have strange friends," is Jehan's rumbled judgement, moving to raise his mace in a kind of ground defense of the trio.

Blackfox crouched on one knee, Blackfox wipes the blood from her eyes with her arm before trying to track the glowing eyes to get a shot off at another incoming gargoyle.

Crouched on one knee, Blackfox wipes the blood from her eyes with her arm before trying to track the glowing eyes to get a shot off at another incoming gargoyle. (poses it correctly)

A few minutes later, a purplish glow and the sound of hornets heralds the return of the white-robed archmage, continuing to look positively dour. "Who's next?" he asks flatly, looking up at the gargoyles and frowning.

Taran points at Blackfox. "She is the most badly injured, sir," he says in a subdued tone.

Bloodstone doesn't dwell on the first poorly fired shot. Pulling another arrow from the quiver, he quickly draws it back, aims as best as he can, and lets it go, shooting at the gargoyle that Fox is aiming for. "Crimson and I will go last, take these two, they're more injured than I am." he calls over at the archmage.

Blackfox nods, still holding her bow at the ready as her eyes scan the skies, "I would guess...that would be me...since neither of them...will go before I do."

The archmage frowns. Apparently this all is beneath him tonight. "Put the bow away, and we'll go," he says, moving to put his arm around her, if allowed. The gargoyles seem agitated, crying out loudly in shrieks, but none seem to be diving.

Taran looks upward from his spot among the rocks, watching the gargoyles somewhat distantly. "Why do they not attack you, when you take away their targets?" he asks. "Fox and I, we provoked them, they did not touch Bloodstone until he fired at them...but they seem afraid of you, master Faeyd."

Bloodstone studies that gargoyles oddly, but doesn't bother on commenting. The Hunter seems to more or less be waiting for his and his wolf's turn at being taken out of here. But, he keeps his bow out if any should dive.

It takes two attempts for her shaking hand to hook the bow on the quiver, but Blackfox manages to put the weapon away as she bleeds on the archmages arm. "Let us...be gone then."

Faeyd shrugs his shoulders to Taran. "I honestly have no idea," he says, before nodding to Blackfox. "Then off we go." In a moment, they both glow violet, and the hornets begin once more, growing in intensity before the two disappear.

The Southern Cross (Second Floor) 

The second floor of the Southern Cross is a fairly conventional affair consisting of a wide wooden landing that leads into one of the various private rooms that the tavern offers to people that wish to live in a somewhat unconventional home rather than a town house.

Clear-glass windows rest at either end of the hallway, overlooking the street below, while the occasional explosion or haunting musical chime can sometimes be heard from behind the often locked and triple-reinforced door of the Tavern's owner, one Garrett Hawklight, a somewhat eccentric mage.

As the group is finally transported to the hallway of the inn, Faeyd sighs, looking a bit tired. "Find an open room, and I'll see about paying the proprietor. And make that woman as confortable as you can, as without an excellent healer, I'm not sure she'll live through tomorrow."

Blackfox sits in the hallway, waiting for the others, her back to the wall and her eyes closed. She opens them as the last of her companions arrive, "Keiresa..." she murmurs.

Taran just nods, and seeks for an open room. "It could have been much worse," he says quietly, as he finds an unoccupied room. "Come, inside. At least our dunking in waterfall and stream has cleaned things somewhat, but you should rest. Evaryn said she could heal, but if she does not come then I will seek for my sister and her fiancee."

Bloodstone is at first bewildered by the wisk of transporation, and he looks at first like he's relived now that he's not in danger anymore. However that face changes to panic quick enough once he realizes that a certain furry companion of his isn't with him. Everything else is forgotten and nothing else matters as the man bolts away from the group and down the stairs.

Faeyd moves aside for the bolting man, frowning. "You're welcome," he says flatly, continuing down the stairs and out of sight.

Blackfox struggles back to her feet as Bloodstone runs past, "My thanks to you," she says with a nod, unable to offer even the most rudimentary bow. She looks to Taran and then to the unconscious woman, "Can you get her?"

Taran nods, tugging the woman's arm across his back and using his legs to lift. "Thank you for getting them home, master Faeyd," he says, pulling the unconscious woman into the room and lowering her across the bed. "I do not know the best healer in the Refuge. I do not know how to...repair this. It was her 'touch that was devoured?"

"That is what he said," Blackfox says, stumbling into the room as she looks for a pallet to lie down on, leaving the bed for the woman. "And Delicia...her mother looked after me before."

Taran nods. "I...am sorry," he says slowly. "I will leave word with the master here, that healers are needed. But that dark temple is still there, and its gargoyles, and...this may happen again. Has happened before, possibly, and I think master Faeyd has given all the help he is going to for the present. I need to go to Fastheld and bring someone who may have more answers. I will leave Jehan here with you - he can at least guard you both, and bring people you need, and you can rest and have your wounds seen to." There's still that very subdued and internal quality to the bard's speech - not sad, nor even guilty, but rather as if something very big is taking up most of his thoughts, to which the present is connected but not dominant to.

"Go," Fox murmurs softly, her eyes flickering closed.

With his hand, Taran draws carefully upon the air - a simple spoked circle of blue light. As he finishes, the spokes 'turn', becoming a gateway through which he steps, the gate vanishing in the wake of his passage.