Vagabonds

In the beginning, the gradual increase in temperature seemed rather pleasant to Corvus, who’d only known the frigid, wind-blasted mountains of the south. The runaway mage traveled by day at first, but the temperature soon became uncomfortably hot and he was forced to fly by night. but just when Corvus thought he could handle this new clime he was introduced to a new contender. Humidity.
“Nothing in any of those blasted books said anything about how wet the air is by the sea”, he muttered to himself for the fourth time in as many minutes. It felt like breathing through a wet blanket, and his supposed Great Book had no spells to counteract the accursed humidity.
The mage had been trudging through the dirty streets of this port city for nearly three hours in search of an inn. The first establishment looked like a good place to get stabbed and the four other inns were booked solid. Well, actually, one was a brothel. When the Madame of the house lined her girls up in front of Corvus, he ran from the whore house with his face buried in his hands.
The sweaty mage’s luck finally turned around when he arrived at the Trotting Otter Tavern, a squat grey bricked establishment. The grey bearded dwarf behind the counter told Corvus that he had a room that had been booked in advance, but they didn’t arrive yesterday. He agreed to let Corvus rent the room if the original tenet hadn't arrived by closing.
After ordering a glass of wine and a tankard of water, Corvus took a seat at a table out of the way to wait for closing time. The mage wished he could have the room now, his wings ached from their cramped position under his heavy cloak. And it had been a week since he’d slept in a bed. At least the chairs were padded, he thought, trying to find the silver lining to this storm cloud.
Corvus pulled out the book that always rode on his hip and began reading it while absently sipping water. After the tankard was about half empty, the winged mage upended his wine into it and gave the tankard a swirl. He continued reading for a few hours, the sun had set and the commonroom was becoming a bit crowded.
“That’s a mighty fancy lookin’ book ya got there”, a deep voice said near Corvus.
He snapped his head up from its position above the tome, his eyes narrowed as he eyed the owner of the offending voice. The voices master matched his voice well, both just oozed with illiteracy. If this thuggish Groundling wanted to see the Tome, it could only be because it seemed valuble. It was, of couse, far more precious than the dim witted hoodlum could possibly imagine! Corvus quickly slipped the tome back into its case at his hip, never taking his eyes off the thug.
“Let me look at your book. Come on. I’m asking nicely. don’t make me get rough.” the thug said in short sentences, most likely the only way his small mind could even form sentences.
Corvus stood up so the man wouldn't loom over him. It didn't help. The man was huge! His arms were the size of most men’s thighs! The scrawny mage felt fear creeping up his spine, and it gave him an idea. He hissed out a syllabic incantation he had studied not an hour ago while the fingers of his right hand curled into a claw. The thug’s porcine eyes grew wide as his confused expression quickly changed to horror. He screamed like a small child and ran out of the door, leaving the pungent stench of urine behind. The wizard wrinkled his nose at the odor and met the owner’s eye across the room.
Corvus grabbed the brim of his worn hat, to keep it in place and gave a small bow.
“My apologies, Mast—“, his throat choked off the word mid utterance. “My apologies, mister. I shall remedy this posthaste.”
A few flicks of his fingers and a short string of nigh nonsensical words cleaned the small amount of piss from the floor and replaced the stench of urine with the scent of sandalwood and jasmine. Corvus bowed again and sat back in his chair hoping the rest of the night would be more peaceful than it had been. And he hoped that the thug wouldn't return with some friends for his humiliation.
“On second thought”, he whispered into his tankard of watered down wine with an impish grin, “let them try.” The mage once again cracked open the Tome and began perusing some spells that might help even the odds if this hypothetical incident should ever occur.

“How does anyone find anything in this city?”

Lynn was sure she had seen and been propositioned by the same brothel three times now and still didn’t feel any closer to her destination. She had stopped by an inn and reserved a room with a dwarf unironically named Flint. She had gone out to find information and some provisions. Lynn had come up short on both and now was lost in this labyrinthine rathole of a city. Thugs and degenerates around every corner, eyeballing her clothes, belongings, and body. On top of everything the sun was beating down upon the city as if to oppress the citizens into submission. Lynn was suffering alongside them in her full armor. In a city like this it paid to look dangerous. One particularly group of sweaty seemingly jobless cretins began to stare and looked like they were going to approach her. Lynn took the opportunity to adjust her weaponry revealing just enough blade to let anyone paying attention what fate had in store for anyone who might think of accosting her. Summoning her poise, Lynn strode down the street with the confidence of someone who knew where their inn was. The Plopping Potter? She couldn't even remember the name well enough to ask for directions. She came to a cross street and gave a deep sign. She touched the amulet around her neck. It was the only thing cool on her body. It helped clear her mind. With her eyes closed she saw a bird, no a book. She opened her eyes and took a right down the alley. Soon she found herself in front of the Trotting Otter Tavern.

Lynn walked through the curtained door to find what one could normally find in a tavern. Locals looking for respite from work and heat and the reality of their homes, dock workers and sailors acting tough and spending their pay on booze and women. However, there was one patron who didn't belong. A peculiar man with a great hump on his back was reading what seemed to be a large book in a dim corner. Lynn approached the dwarf bartender who was barely visible from behind the bar while checking tankards.

“Excuse me, ser.” Lynn ventured, “Could you tell me about the gentleman in the corner?”

Corvus saw an armored female human walk into the tavern and glance around, her eyes lingering on him for an instant longer than the rest of the patrons. The woman walked up to the man behind the bar and began speaking with him. The dwarf said something to her and nodded in Corvus's direction.
The mage stealthily pulled a strip of cured leather from one of the pockets hidden on his robe and subtly ran it along his arms and chest, muttering a protective incantation under his breath. He felt a slight vibration sensation as invisible magical force coalesced around his body like armor.
Corvus tucked the leather back into its pocket and inspected the woman. She was slender, yet seemed powerful. Especially if the greatsword strapped to her back was her weapon of choice!
Corvus flipped through the Tome looking for a spell that might make her less formitable. And as it always did, the Tome flipped to the page that seemed most appropriate, it was a minor necromancy that would sap a creature's strength. He quickly prepared the spell, then closed the Tome and slipped it back into its holster.
The mage settled back into his chair and held his tankard of diluted wine with his right hand, his left hand was in his lap, fingers curled into the first mystic pass needed for the weakening spell.
This town was full of ruffians, he needed to find passage on a ship first thing tomorrow morning. But for now, he wearily watched the intimidating woman.

Lynn was no fool. She was also not very subtle in personality or look. Fortunately for Lynn neither was this stranger. The man had become agitated by her presence and was preparing to fight or flee. Maybe both. Opening his large book, muttering, reaching into pockets, all telltale signs of spells being prepared. Lynn had faced mages before on the battlefield. There were two common stratagems when mages are present on the battlefield. First, you can dress your mages to the nines and make it very obvious that they are mages, phalanx around them and have them cast their most destructive spells from an unreachable location. Lynn liked those times. It was an obvious consideration when planning a battle and one can reasonably expect the spells that will be cast and by extension countered. The other way is when a mage is dressed in light soldiers armor carrying a spear, short sword, or crossbow. They are more devious and if the mage is skilled or lucky they can turn the tide of a battle. The man she was now facing was a mage and he wasn't used to hiding that fact.

Facing the decision to rush and subdue him before he casts or trying to get him to back down Lynn tried to remember what her teachers had said about good diplomacy tactics. Should she approach with strength or vulnerability? Unless she was missing something she was much stronger than the stranger. In fact most people in the tavern could overpower his odd frame and glaring disability. Vulnerability may be the better tactic.

“Pardon me for intruding, ser” she said with all the grace she could muster. “ The tavern keeper let me know that you got into a bit of trouble earlier. I would like to offer my services to you as a bodyguard. ” She had stopped within striking distance to the side of the man. Letting him know that she was present without encroaching on his space. “I am also a stranger to this city. Maybe we can help each other.” Lynn tried to get a look at his face but between his wide brimmed hat and perchance for looking down at the table it was hard to get a glimpse of him. Other than his obvious discomfort he was difficult to read.

Lynn began to wonder if he was worth the trouble...

Among the clamour and ruckus that painted the Trotting Otter there sat a husk that some might call a man. This husk, though wholly uninterested in the circus of brawny men shoving each other over spilt beer, had taken mental note of everyone that was bustling around him. There was, of course, plenty of bark and, sure, there was even some bite here and there, but the leathered man felt at ease. No one would die here, and this made him happy.

The cracked and blackened spot atop his head was pointed straight at the bartender and his eyes were fixed on the countertop, chin in hand. In his other hand he held a fist full of sand that he let trickle down on the top of the counter. When his fist was empty he started drawing lines into the eroded chert.



"Oh," the shuck let his smile consume the entirety of his face. His teeth were as yellow as the eyes which stared at the sand. His tanned hide showed how often he stared at it.

"Then I suppose I am to have company. No, no. Do not concern yourself. I would never doubt you. I knew you as stone, and as stone I knew that you knew more than I had known I did not know," he continued to coo and giggle.

The old man seemed very pleased with the mess he was making, but the bartender, who was also the innkeep, appeared to be much less amused.

"Yer goin ta cleanner up, aye?" the pudgy red-bearded Dwarf yawped, disturbing enough that a few of the surrounding drunkards shifted their gaze.
The sagely man retorted with a smirk, "Do not worry, it is already done. Simmer yourself, in a few moments you will hardly remember we were here." With a swipe of his knobbed, wrinkled fingers the sand was gone from the counter with little motion. He again un-tensed his fist to let the sand stream down, this time into it's sack a meter below. Not a grain was lost.

The elder rose from his stool and straightened his back the best he could. As he turned his body away from the counter he revealed a similar disfigurement upon his belly that was atop his head. This one, however, was clearly not from the heat or any other natural cause, but instead seemed remarkably intentional, though probably not from the husk himself. It seemed more imaginative than a lumping of scarred, ashen tissue.

The path out the door led the leather man beside the table of the young knight and her feathered friend, and with a small drunken stumble he passed by with a nudge and no words. The monk grinned as the sunlight hit his face again, now a pound lighter, for he had left something far more valuable than words with the unorthodox pair. He decided his time would be better spent in study.

He shuffled north towards the towns only library, the bag of sand missing from his waistline.

Corvus straightened stiffly in his chair as the commanding woman strode over to his table, her armor clinking with every footstep. She walked with ease and wore a disarming smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She viewed him as a possible threat. Though, most people had a deep mistrust and fear of magic and its practitioners. Why were Groundlings so spooked by the arcane?
The mage put his other hand around the tankard to expose both of his hands to her, no need to make her jumpy. The woman pulled up short of the table, but Corvus felt she could close the gap between them before he got halfway through an incantation.
She greeted him (even gave him a title!) and offered her services as a guardian, mentioning that she too was new to the city. Corvus met her gaze at the last part, then quickly looked passively down. The mage white-knuckled his tankard as a flare of rage swept through him. Corvus thought he was used to his new life, his new role, but old habits die hard. And when those habits were beaten in, they could die very hard indeed. Corvus took a calming breathe and quickly composed his face, and met the commanding woman's gaze again.
"Unfortunately, I doubt I could afford a sellsword of your caliber. I am trying to gain passage on a ship bound for Cyormanthur, the continent west of this one, and have precious few coins with which to do so. I am currently trying to rent a room that has been unclaimed."
Corvus wasn't sure why he added that last part. Maybe he was justifying being there in the first place?
Before the armored woman could respond an old, dark man staggered into the seated mage, who just managed to stop his reactionary apology from leaving his open mouth.

Cyormanthur? Lynn had no idea where Cyormanthur was, nor why anyone would go there. Here is where Bannuai (*Pronouced Ban-nway*) had lead her but why? Certainly the book the man is reading was the book in the vision but was this man's flight to another land the bird? No the bird and the book were inseparable. One and the same. Lynn wasn't sure how this stranger was supposed to help her but she supposed that was the point. She had to find strangers who could help her in ways she could not. This fidgety, deformed man was one of the chosen Bannuai.

“Fortune is looks upon you to day Ser. It just so happens that I am the current patron of that last room. How about an new arrangement then? An adventuring party. We can try to pick up some others on the way if we feel the need. How about this then; I lead us on a small venture that should land us some coin if it works out between us we can continue to where we see fit Cyormanthur and beyond.”

She let that sink in for a moment as the man retreated into his hat. He was in deep thought about this proposition.

“Listen if you need time to think I will be in my room. If you decide it is worth your time I will have a cot sent up. Make sure you knock and announce yourself. I don’t take kindly to surprises.” With that she turned squarely and made her way up the stairs to her room. A silent prayer on her lips for the future.

Corvus watched the woman make her way up the stairs. His heart sank originally when she casually mentioned she was the renter for the last room upstairs, and now that he was invited to stay with her he didn't know what to feel.
It's not like he would have slept on the streets, the Tome had some sheltering spells, but that would draw more attention to him than he already garnered. But if he stayed with the armored woman, how would he hide his wings?
Corvus sighed as he pulled out the Tome again, flipping through the thick volume. The disguised mage's attention was grabbed by a lesser Transmutaion, one that would open a non-dimensional space, he just needed to secure a component he lacked.
Corvus spent 15 minutes commiting the spell to his memory, then approached the owner of the inn and placed a silver coin on the bar. When the proprietor bustled over to Corvus the robed man asked for a small sack of corn meal.
The dwarf looked at the Mage with a cocked eyebrow, thinking the coin too pricey for such a simple request. But never being one to pass up coin, the flame-bearded dwarf waddled off to the kitchen for the requested item. He returned a moment later with a large sack of ground corn for the mage. Corvus dipped his head in a distinctly avian bow, and made his way to the stairs.
It took Corvus a bit to find which room was the woman's, but he found it. He raised his hand to knock on the door but hesitated, his knuckle hovering next to the portal. She must have heard him stop in front of her room, because the door swung inward revealing her now unarmored form. She was quite beautiful, even lacking wings. The mage let his arm drop to his side and bobbed another little bow.
"My lady, I have contemplated your offer," Corvus began, "I will accept your most gracious lodging offer as well as the proposition of banding together to make some coin. We shall have to discuss that in finer detail."
The woman's lips twitched into a small smile, this time it reached her eyes. She stepped inside to allow Corvus entrance into the room.
It was a somewhat small, modest room with a bed, writing desk and large wardrobe. Corvus was glad he'd prepared a space to sleep in advance.
After taking in his surrounding, the mage turned back to his hostess.
"I am Corvus Clareonesis, and I thank you for your hospitality, Lady....?"

“I am Lynn Carimna, of Lautrec. You may call me Lynn, Lady Lynn if it suits you. I am glad you have accepted my offer. ”

Lynn welcomed Corvus into the room. It was small for the two of them and she would have to find a divider for them.

“Corvus should I call up a cot for you to rest on?”

“No that shall not be necessary, Lady Lynn. I have prepared a spell that will allow me to rest within a space such as the wardrobe.” He gestured towards the wardrobe. There was something very odd about this man. He had the air of servitude but also being above the normal peasantry. Such was the personality of mages Lynn supposed. Slave to the art or what have you. The mage uttered some words while commanding his words to form with his hands and disappeared into the wardrobe. With the mage gone Lynn changed into her small clothes with a small tunic on. She trusted Bannuai to choose her companions but that didn't mean she should trust them immediately. She had the feeling this stranger was hiding something as all the malformed tend to. As she lay her armor at the end of the bed she angled her sword towards her. She unsheathed the blade slightly for a quick retrieval. Normally she reserved this tactic for the battlefield near enemy territory. Lynn supposed the world was enemy territory now. She sat on the bed and placed a leather bound book next to the pillow. She undid the strap and checked her charcoal making sure that if a vision came in her dreams that she was ready to decipher it. She double checked the latch on the door. So many things. The world had become so hostile since she left for her journey. She thought back to the time she spent on the battlefield and how she was able to bear those nights. Nights before a battle, nights before a siege, nights before facing unknown numbers. She was able to make it though with the thought of safety and comfort coming with victory. That if she fought hard that she would make it and relax. Now there was no relaxing. Behind ever corner was more obstacles. Lynn had never been so outside her depth. She shook the thoughts out of her head. She would need all her strength tomorrow and she could spare time pitying herself. She had a purpose, a reason for the hardship. It would all be worth it in the end....

CRASH!

Lynn woke up startled by the noise and instantly reached for her sword. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness all she could see was a large dark shape on her floor. Her eyes darted to the window. The sun was still hidden behind the mountains. She focused on the shifting shape in front of her. Sword held at her side Lynn began to circle the shape towards the door. If her first strike failed she may have to make a quick escape. She freed one hand from her sword to undo the latch when the creature started to stir. She quickly brought her hand back to her blade. She could see now the thing was mostly dark colors save for bits of pale white beneath the inky layer the surrounded it. Lynn tensed all her muscles and stepped forward to strike...

The Prolonged Soul by Artemis Angsley? That crooked conjurer wouldn't know the First Age from the Troubled Times.

Immortality for Imbeciles? For imbeciles, by imbeciles, from imbeciles. A Mercane had hoped to nab a few gold by selling what they claimed to be squashed Flumph, swearing it held otherworldly, life-extending magic. Though, if they were being honest, they were really selling an overpriced sack of pulverized Orche Jelly and strawberry jam. It's acidic nature did seem to clear the complexion, some imbeciles had noted.

Donovan's black belly shook with laughter as he slammed another book closed. His giggle fits were percussed and pronounced, and while the library was far from empty, the people avoided sitting near him. He had these explosions on and off all day, and the librarian, finally wary of his disturbances, set the old man out and on his way. With a toothy, crooked grin the old man complied and he headed towards his lodgings.

The sun beat down on his ashen crown and he pondered if the gods ever took the time for a stiff drink and a good read. Probably not. They were too busy either helping people or killing them.

The non-dimensional space was a grey cube about ten paces across and every surface comprised of a spongey grey material that felt almost like a solid mist. Their was a barely perceptible glow to the room that didn't seem to originate from anywhere. The temperature was pleasantly cool. Corvus threw off his heavy cloak and slowly extended his wings, stretching out his cramped muscles. After his feathered appendages stopped aching, the mage disrobed and laid out each article in an orderly row next to his bag and cloak. In the end the only clothing he wore was a pair of loose-fitting pants that ended at his shins. Corvus laid down and closed his eyes only to spring to his feet a moment later to grab the great blue and silver Tome. Finally satisfied, Corvus fell asleep hugging it to his chest.
An inspiring dream of true freedom was cut unexpectedly short as the sleeping mage suddenly slammed into the closet floor with enough force to drive the air from his lungs and send him spilling out of the door, hopelessly tangled in his possessions. As he tried to regain his breath, he was dimly aware of the Lady Lynn making her way toward the door. Suddenly she was above him, her sword poised to strike. How did she handle so large a sword with such speed? Corvus held up his disentangled hand and tried to tell her it was him, but a pitiful wheeze was all that escaped his lips. As the enormous sword began a downward arc, a bright blue light flashed from somewhere within the pile and a shimmering globe winked into existence around the terrified mage. Lynn’s impressive weapon hit the round surface and ricocheted off at a 90 degree angle. She was already fluidly moving into a position to compensate for the sudden change in vector.
As the swordswoman spun her blade around into another perfect striking pose, Corvus struggled to his feet and found his enchanted hat.
“Lady Lynn”, The two-toned mage wheezed, “It is I, Corvus.” He placed the hat on his head, wondering if she had seen his face in the faint morning light. Humans couldn't see in the dark for some reason.
“Lady, if you lower you sword I shall lower my barrier.” Corvus wasn't certain if he even COULD lower the barrier, but it seemed like the right thing to say. He tried to extract his cloak from among his other clothes, but they had somehow knotted while being shunted from the conjured space.

“This was unexpected”

    Those were Lynn's first thoughts after taking a moment to wrap her head around the creature struggling to put on it's cloak inside the faint blue light of what must be a magical barrier. Lynn wasn't sure what she should be most surprised about. The form that Corvus was in with his pale skin, black extremities, and dark wings? The contrast of the exceptional display of magic apparently cast accidentally from the bumbling mage inside of it? Or the fact that for the first time a vision from her dreams had been so literal. Not a flight, not a bird, but a man with wings. Lynn ground her teeth with the obviousness of the vision and the thought that no matter how hard she tried she could not interpret even the simplest and most up front of visions. There was solace in that she had chosen correctly but she now doubted the judgment of Bannuai. While this mage seemed as though he may have access to powerful magics at present he seemed far too inept for what she was expecting on her journey. He seemed inconsistent with his casting. Botching one spell and recovering with another. She needed to weigh her options. To do that she needed information. To get information she would have to talk with Corvus and wring him out. For that she need to be dressed and awake. The sun was just starting to rise and leak light into the room. The morning mists kept the suns rays from piercing to fiercely into the city, at least until it receded into the sea. Then the heat would become unbearable.

Lynn turned from the mage and went to her bedside and got dressed again. She made sure Corvus was preoccupied with his own clothing as she changed into the a fresh tunic. She then began to equip her armor and pack her belongings. Corvus looked like he had gotten himself together and was studying his barrier. He would observe the blue light and flip though his tome searching for clues.

    “I am going to grab some rations and breakfast,” She announced to Corvus, “Please remain here until I return”

     With that she undid the latch and left closing the door behind her. As she descended the stairs and the common area of the inn came into view she saw a familiar looking old man crossing the threshold of the tavern.

Corvus was left kneeling in his faintly glowing shelter, flipping through the Tome to find what spell the enchanted book had set up. This had hardly been the first time the enchanted volume had sprung to his aid. Though the first time it had happened, the book had not been so merciful. the would-be mugger grabbed the unsuspecting mage from behind and paced a dagger against his throat. The next instant the hoodlum was cartwheeling through the air, sparks dancing from the hoodlums hair and lightning crawled across his skin, charring it. When he slammed into the dirt two seconds later he didn't move, and Corvus doubted he ever would.
After several minutes of searching for any dweomers that erected barriers, the mage had yet to uncover which spell currently encapsulated him. What he did find was a very interesting thesis on channeling the individual components of the prismatic spells for battle purposes.
Corvus was so engaged by his find that he was completely oblivious when the barrier winked out of existence. Eventually he realized he was free and grudgingly began dressing and putting away his belonging, after bookmarking the page for later reading of course.
With his possessions in order, the winged mage moved to the small window of the room. He watched the passing people (humans mostly) as they went about their business, headed to the market to buy produce or whatever it was these Groundling peasants did. If he could tell the difference between humans, the strix mage would have noted a large man in leathers leading a group of 6 similarly dressed men, all of them heading right to the inn. He was shaken from his silent vigil when his stomach growled like a thing wild. The mage turned toward the door and froze mid stride.
Lynn had ordered Corvus to stay on the room, saying she was grabbing breakfast and rations. Corvus obeyed his orders.
The pale mage flushed with anger, "who was this human- this Groundling!- to order me around?" he thought, blowing the whole thing out of proportion and working himself into a huff. So Corvus pushed into the hallway and stormed off to the common room for some food and possibly give his roommate a piece of his mind.
When the fuming strix reached the foot of the stairs that lead to the common room, he saw a group of dark clad men who had pushed a few tables together. Strangely, these men (though, that one on the far left may be a woman) all sat on the farthest side of the table from the stairs. Most likely just another strange human custom, like clasping wrists or sleeping with no clothes on.
Corvus paid them little mind as he scanned the crowd and found Lynn waiting rather impatiently at the bar. The mage put on his fiercest scowl and stalked closer to his prey.
Or at least, he tried to. Before he was more than two steps from the stairs the man in the center of the dark-leathered band stood up and pointed at Corvus.
"Thats him, lads. Get 'em!!"
There was a chorus of scraping chairs and clacking crossbows.
Corvus spun aside of a few of the bolts, the rest were turned aside by his defensive enchantments. Save one that clipped his ear the end, which immediately began throbbing.
While the crossbowmen re-loaded there weapons, Corvus dashed to Lynn (who already had that massive sword unsheathed and was moving to the side of the table to strike) and grabbed her shoulder.
"There will be too many damages if we fight here, let us away to a more sparsely populated area," The mage stated, tacking an extremely cumbersome word onto the end of his sentence. A word that opened a dark and ovular gate rimmed in a pale blue light. The gate lept at the pair and they were suddenly in the middle of the street, facing the inn they had been standing in an instant ago. The gang could be seen through the window looking about in confusion for a few moments before one looked out the window and pointed.
"There is an abandoned warehouse I was going to sleep in if the room did not work out. I believe that would be a better location to fight these hooligans. Would not you agree, Lady Lynn?"

"Ooooh!"

The old man cooed. He smiled, bemused, and then frowned, but then smiled. Only again to frown... into a smile. He was not quite sure how to feel.

If life's a dance, these men are it's dancers. Donovan meant to preserve the artistry of the world's stage. Violence he did not mind, but senseless death wouldn't do. And these dark clad men had malice in their eyes. 'Bravado,' he thought, 'how boring.'

He peered from a small, make-shift grotto; a sanctuary from the morning heat. Closing his eyes and focusing the energies within him to the pit of his belly, he bent the light around him with his will alone, and became a human mirage.

Among the discourse brought by the vanishing duo, Donovan slid between the burly black knights. The Captain and his now seven soldiers.

Lynn was tired of running. Though that feeling would not stop her. Running was an unfortunate result of circumstances. Thinking on it she could have slain those men given enough time and a some luck. She had been in worse situations. But she could not guarantee the safety of her new traveling partner, whom the would be assassins seemed to be targeting. Corvus led her through back alleys and across busy markets in such a winding pattern she wondered if he was trying to lose their enemy or he had just gotten lost him self. He was quite agile for a mage swerving in between people and things with little contact with them. Lynn had no such care or grace and was frequently shouldering past denizens of the street with little warning. The pair rounded some stairs and descended into a building much like the other building surrounding the sea port. This building however, Corvus stopped at a door draped in shadows and struggled to open a rusty latch. Lynn checked behind them as he did this. It seemed the mages trick at the bar had won them some distance from their pursuers. They were good though. Tracking the mage to an inn he didn’t have a room at. Although Corvus had a very distinct appearance. If he had been asking for rooms it would be easy enough to ask around. The whole experience made Lynn consider her own trail. How many mistakes had she made. Her pursuers knew exactly what she looked like. She cursed her own naivety, she hadn't even changed her armor. She still wore the Lautrec crest for Heavens sake.

It was at this moment Corvus had opened the door and beckoned her inside. Lynn steeled her self and went in. The room was a large, musty warehouse filled with a myriad of stenches. The assault on her senses reminded her that she had many angry questions for Corvus. After they found themselves tucked between the crates and shelves she began her interrogation.

“Alright you are going to tell me who are we running from and why.” she demanded pointing her sword at Corvus' chest “Depending on your answer I have half a mind to turn you over.” She saw his face begin to pale and Lynn realized that she needn’t press him further.

After only having gotten lost twice on the way, they arrived at the abandoned warehouse. It had obviously been forsaken many years ago, as the leaky roof, rancid odor, and rusty doorknob attested.
The mage and the knight crouched behind the most intact containers they could find. Corvus was trying to formulate a plan when he caught a flash of light reflected off of polished steel.
“Alright you are going to tell me who are we running from and why.” Lynn demanded, her large blade poised to pierce Corvus' chest “Depending on your answer I have half a mind to turn you over.”
The mage felt sweat beading on his forehead, he had neither seen nor heard her draw her sword. The prudent option seemed to be to tell the truth, so he did.
“My apologies for getting you embroiled in this affair, Lady.” He said, with a bow of his head, “The large, repulsive one who did not fire holds a grudge against me. He attempted to appropriate my belongings and I scared him so bad he urinated in his breeches. I would guess that his associates are a part of his herd and are attempting to kill me for shattering his hardman image.”
She glared at him for a moment longer before her eyes slid to the door and her sword lowered to point downward.
“Well I suppose I’m in it now. What tricks have you got under those wings of yours? I’m sure one of those fireballs war-mages love tossing about would end this fight before it starts.” She mused, her eyes never leaving the door.
Corvus thought for a moment, tapping his chin with his finger.
“Unfortunately, I have prepared very few spells of an offensive nature. However, if you would allow, Lady, I shall bolster your strength and protect us from their crossbows. I believe that the most effective strategy would be for me to draw the attention of the crossbowmen, giving you a chance to charge in and surprise them.”
Boots could be heard on the other side of the door, followed by hushed voices.
“They’re here”, Lynn growled, “Cast your spells.”
"Yes, Lady Lynn," The mage said, fishing out the broken tip of a bull's horn. He began tracing symbols on her chest and intoning the words of magic. The hitherto invisible symbol flared once, then faded back nothing.
"It it done."
After enhancing Lynn’s strength, Corvus wove a shield meant to ensnare any projectiles launched his way and stepped a few paces from his hiding spot.
Before he even turned to the door it was kicked off its hinges. A chorus of clacking crossbows once again rang out proceeding the deadly darts. The field stopped four of the arrows six feet before they would have slammed in to Corvus, the remaining two had some of the momentum stolen by the spell and were deflected by his mage armor.
Lynn bolted from her spot as the strix incanted yet another spell that launched the missiles back at there owners. Two missed their mark, a third scraped past a thigh, but the fourth lodged itself solidly into the belly of one unfortunate man. Before anyone had a chance to reload or draw so much as a dagger, Lynn was upon them.

"Aiiiiiiiiiii!"

For a fraction of a second, the illusion thinned and wavered. The black leather-clad leg warped instead to the leather skin of an old, tired man. The bolt had grazed his thigh breaking his concentration and dispelling the mirage.

Fortunately the brutes were far from perceptive, something he couldn't say for the cagey warbler empowering the lady knight. Casting a knowing wink in Corvus' direction, Donovan again refocused and completed his disguise.

'Perhaps with enough concentration I might be able to -' As the thought took voice in his mind, he himself took refuge in the panic of battle. The illusion pressed upon himself loosened, but held, and he was able to reshape the furthest enemy from the commotion. One of the dark warriors was transformed into a poor caricature of the bird caster, an illusion that provided insight into the perception of the daft old man.

Without the strength spell of the mage she could have taken on this paltry group. Though the warehouse was unfamiliar to her a seasoned warrior can fight in any environment. Using the stacks of crates and shelving she could have made her approach until all the bolts and been loosed. With careful timing Lynn would have struck at the flank of the group taking out members one by one, drawing them into the warehouse so as to not become overwhelmed by numbers.

With the enhanced strength brought by magical means she charged ahead as the bolts that had previously been aimed at them flew toward their origins. Amid the panic that this volley wrought mixed with the laborious reloading of a crossbow Lynn was able to close the gap between her and the blackguards with the full intensity of her purpose. The first man she cam across was slain instantly with a diagonal slash. With the arcane strength laid upon her, the attack almost bisected the man. There is much to say about what effect a first strike can have. Her head on a swivel she saw that one man had reclaimed his bolt into his gut. The remaining men scattered to try and find advantage on the duo. She quickly shifted to the next opponent as he fumbled for his dagger. As soon as it was drawn Lynn disarmed him with one stroke of her sword and with the next neatly opened his neck.

Lynn turned to face her next opponent and found much to her bewilderment Corvus standing not ten yards away from her next to one of the assailants who were looking at each other with shocked looks.

Corvus could not help but admire the grace and deadly efficiency of the female fighter. He stood mesmerized for a few seconds before an crudely cobbled caricature of himself appeared among the dark clad men and snapped him out of his hypnotic state.
The mage wasn't sure who had brought forth this image, but the other would be assassins were shifting there gaze to the closer of the Corvus "twins".
“Why give them two targets?” He asked to no one in particular as he fished a large deep green feather from his satchel. He traced out a pattern in the air with the tip as he slid his tongue around the most powerful transmutation he could muster.
Immediately upon completion a prickling sensation started in his chest and quickly spread all the way to his toes and the tips of his wings. Corvus felt himself grow taller and his center of balance change. His vision was bisected by an enormous hatchet shaped beak. Corvus took an experimental step forward, then quickly closed with the combatants with large, bounding steps. He enjoyed the furrows his talons raked into the warehouse floor, this was a fine combat form indeed!
Corvus raked one man who was trying to edge around Lynn. The man fell back with a cry of pain, clutching at his bleeding shoulder and arm. The man threw down his sword and ran  toward the exit. The mage let out an earsplitting squawk in his borrowed form and leapt at another target. Corvus smiled inwardly and wondered what a happy Axebeak looked like.

“What in the 8 heavens?!”

Lynn was struggling to understand how the battle had shifted. The rogues that had chased them were in total disarray. Corvus was, for reasons that escaped Lynn, standing next to one of the assailants although he didn’t look quite right. The heat of battle had never affected her this early and certainly not against such lackluster opponents. Corvus' ears were much longer than she thought and his skin seemed to sheen between luminescent and transparent. “Magic does strange things to its users” she supposed. Her attention was shifted due to the large creature that had burst into the fray. Had one of the hunters or Corvus freed it from a holding area in the warehouse? The beast had immediately vivisected one of the men and was chasing another. Lynn wondered how long it would be before it turned on her.

Lynn was not going to wait to find out.

Turning towards the creature she held her sword in a high thrusting stance. Her legs spread to anchor herself. The giant avian creature leapt at man stumbling to the door. She steeled her gaze and focused her thoughts on to her sword. Power began to jolt through her body breaking free into a cloud of sparks around her. She shouted as she lurched forward to thrust towards the giant monster when she felt a white hot pain explode from her lower back. Her furious shout became a pained cry as a massive bolt of lighting flew from her blade. The blot shot through the upper rafters, punching a hole in the roof of the warehouse. Crates and shelving began to catch flame from where the jagged beam of light had been moments before. She whirled around to see the leader of the bandits behind her. He had fallen onto his back, recoiling from the thunderclap. His face was in stuck with awe and his breaches wet with urine. In his hand was the knife that had cut between the folds of Lynn's armor. Lynn began to stumble and caught herself using her sword like a cane. She reached back and touched her wound as blood flowed down her armor.

Embers showered upon the combatants as the smoldering warehouse roof began burning outright. Corvus’s thickly feathered body fared better than some, having only produced one plume of smoke and a dozen or so singed spots. The large bird’s head swiveled to the source of the electrical blast, where the transmuted mage saw Lynn. Sparks were dancing about her hair and small arcs of light ran between her armor and sword. She was using her greatsword to keep her feet and blood was seeping from her back.
The polymorphed strix felt an unaccustomed surge of rage well up inside him. A rage that was made tangible as an ear-piercing, shrieking squawk. Corvus leapt at the man who had attacked Lynn. Fortunately for the man who reeked of piss, a damaged beam that had been in the path of  Lynn’s lightning tore free from its place above and came swinging into the leaping predator.
Corvus heard some of his ribs crack as the pylon caught him full in the flank and launched him into the far wall of the warehouse, where he bounced off and crashed into a pile of crates.
The broken bird felt a nettling sensation spread across his skin as the spell reversed itself. From the broken fragments of crates rose the winged mage, holding his side with the opposite hand. Most likely the grievous wound would have incapacitated a large avian, but as the shapeshifting magic fled so too did most of the wounds. Still, the mage felt like he still had at least some heavy bruising along his right side.
“Perhaps I should remain out of the fray,” he wheezed to himself as he reviewed his remaining repertoire of spells. Corvus frowned as he realized he was out of combative spells.
A glowing cinder landed on his cheek and he brushed it off with a start. The ceiling fire was spreading at a prodigious rate, the building wouldn't last long.
The strix mage produced a tiny vial of water as he rattled of the words to an aqueous spell. The contained water shot from the vial and traveled in an upward arc until it was a few paces from the ceiling, where it stopped and swelled into an orb of water 5 feet wide. Corvus spoke a phrase of power he'd read in the Tome and the sphere expanded bast its limitations, growing to ten feet across! The mass of liquid then exploded outward in all directions soaking the room and extinguishing the cloying flames.

The old monk dried his eyes and reviewed the battlefield. Besides the pale-faced bleeder in the corner, Donovan saw only one befuddled buffoon left standing. Donovan recognized this man as the captain.

The captain tried to maintain the illusion of confidence, tried to keep his knees from knocking together. He could not manage it, and the percussive rattle set a violent tempo.

Like flowing water the old man unleashed a flurry of blows. Despite his gaunt physique of the ancient traveller, the black knights armor appeared to give way, smashing and crushing inward, squeezing some of the bones hidden inside.

The captain fell to the floor howling. Donovan looked down at him and back up to his compatriots, with a mixture of guilt and pleasure.

Knife wounds are messy.

Knife wounds bleed.

Lynn was displeased to have a knife wound.

Despite her displeasure she was somehow more focused on this amalgamation of features that made up the creature before her. The figure was a poor caricature of Corvus. Features were too big or too small sometimes not in the right place. It was as if an artist had overheard a description of Corvus from a drunk and decided to make that the inspiration for an ugly statue. This unpleasant creature had pulverized her assailants armor almost too fast to keep up with and had incapacitated him. Lynn was furiously processing the last few moments trying to come up with a way to get a handle on what had happened.

Fighting.

Bird.

Stabbed.

Lightning.

Fire.

Rain.

And now this thing.

Words were beginning to become hard to hang on to. Lynn checked her wound. Still bloody. Still flowing. Damn. The creature looked at her and became an old man. He smiled a toothy grin at her. By the Hall of the Handmaidens he was ugly. She hoped that his face wouldn't be the last thing she saw before...

Lynn then crumpled into a pile, losing consciousness.

Corvus rushed to the female warrior, who had collapsed in a slowly growing puddle of her own blood. The feathered wizard tried to tear a strip from his dark cloak, but the material proved to be too tough for his hands to rip. Instead he unfastened the cloak and pulled it from his shoulders (exposing his glossy wings in the process) and began packing the garment into the gap in Lynn's armor. Crimson soaked through the thick cloth as soon as it touched her wound. This was bad. Lynn needed a healer. Corvus swore under his breath in his native tongue as Lynn’s life slipped between his fingers in warm rivulets. The mage raked the fingers of his unbloodied hand through his hair and absently realized his ensorcelled hat had fallen off, most likely during his tumble in the boxes. He briefly glanced over to the wreckage that marked his landing but knew that this woman's problems trumped his need for disguise.
So focused was the mage on the bleeding woman, that he didn't notice the old man standing less than two yards from him. At least not until he stepped a bit closer. Corvus looked up at a leathery, worn face that was crisscrossed with lines only age or overexposure to the sun (though judging by the depth and sheer number, Corvus guessed it was both) could create.
“Is there anything you can do for her?” He asked the old man, panic evident by the quaver and pitch of his voice. He didn't even stop to think where this codger had appeared in the wake of a fight, but he did hope that the man would be more concerned with the dying woman than his alien visage.