ooc:
Taylen, nothing wrong with that. Arttemis, your bridge awaits you

On sunday evening I will bring this round of combat to its conclusion, even if one or two of you have not yet posted. So do be sure to get your actions in before then. If you're waiting to see what your opponents do, you can say either that your character will do y if x happens, or that your character waits for x to happen before doing y. For example, "If the orcs cross the bridge, I draw my sword and strike back," or, "Once the creatures running towards us come within 30 ft, I loose my arrow at the nearest one." You may also simply stand wary, in case something unforseen occurs, however it means your character probably won't get to act for the round.

Spanning the stream is an old wooden bridge. Crafted from sturdy lumber, of which there is certainly an abundance in the area, it has withstood the trials of time. Small cracks in the wood reveal its age, however the planks and supports remain solid and steady, as they must be to support the weight of passing trade wagons day after day. The bridge reaches roughly 25 feet from end to end, and 10 feet across its width, and crosses the stream at an angle. Its structure consists of a single, shallow arch, and a bi-level guide rail on either side. The upper rails, resting 2 ft above the base, are built from solid beams 8" thick, with vertical rods reaching up against them from the floor of the bridge. The lower rails appear to be thinner segments, possibly designed to keep the vertical supports secured to each other.

"Silly orcs! You know not who you deal with! I am Jean Olivier D'Underhill, highwayhalfling extrordinaire, stealer of the hearts of oh-so-fair maidens, the man who bested Pern the Noble in swordplay, and the man who stole Lady Cassandra's bauble from her very breast! Stand down, or I shall carve my oh-so-verbious name into your oh-so-ample buttocks!"

Orcs.

Not thinking, he runs towards the two orcs near Aust, and swings his handaxe at one, and his battleaxe at the other one.

[ooc: Dwarven instincts kicking in. If the orcs are too far away for a normal run, but close enough for a charge, Khazmon charges and swings his handaxe at one.]

[ 03-29-2002: Message edited by: Ruvyen Warblade ]

Saeessira then looks to the area under the bridge, as she chants a few words. She then smiles, hoping that her attempt to create quite a bit of commotion under the bridge is successful.

ooc:
casting ghost sound.

Saeessira, after trying to cast her spell, flies above the bridge, and works on getting her sling ready incase combat becomes necessary for her, and then shouts

HEY! You smelly orcs over there! Yeah, you! You better run away, and run away FAST, there are ALOT of us here...

ooc:
Quick points of note:

Khazmon and Drakkenclaw have a lot of ground to cover to catch up with the group. Drak will not be attacking this round. Khazmon is out of range to attack this round, even with a charge, however he can move in at a full run and close the gap for next round.

Taylen, that's an interesting effect. Next time, though, ask before doing something like that. Effects are supposed to be my department.

Falaanla, you needed to give some idea what you planned to do with that spell. Reyolen, the spell name would've been nice. I'll try to work off what you both told me in chat, as best I can remember it.

The shouts are coming from a distance ahead. Even under better circumstances, it would take you a little time to cover the open distance. You gain only a quick glimpse of the battle scene as you reach a bend in the trail, before you turn off into the trees. Farious foliage, including dense tree trunks, create an obstruction to your already labored movement, and you find that the long hours without rest have made you weary. The trees also obstruct your vision, so that you cannot tell what is going on up ahead.

Bridge Group + Ruvyen

The leather-clad elf known as Taylen quickly finds his target, unleashing his arrow at one of the orcs standing over Aust. The arrow hits home, striking the creature squarely in its shoulder. While the orc reels backward, it does not fall to the ground.

A loud rattling of pots, pans, and various other metalic objects rises from beneath the bridge, making an aweful racket. Before long, it drowns out all noise short of shouting, and even that finds itself blunted by the aweful racket. However, the sudden added noise gives the orcs pause, as the two slow their charge, and begin a more cautious approach towards the bridge.

With such a great distance to cover, the dwarf breaks into an all-out sprint. With an axe in each hand, the hefty fellow shows his resilience, making his way from the bend in the trail all the way onto the bridge in a matter of several seconds.

The oddly dressed halfling suddenly leaps up onto the guide rail of the wooden bridge in a show of extraordinary agility. He then begins making an array of courageous and self-glorifying proclamations. However, as the racket beneath him rises, his performance loses much of its elegance.

The fellin woman stands fast, quarterstaff in hand, on guard against some unseen enemy. Considering that the water lies between her and the orc assailants, this action seems rather pointless at first. However, when three more of the vile creatures burst through the foliage of the opposite shoreline, her level of caution proves warranted. One of them is adorned with an array of crude-looking charms and baubles, and clad in a ragged shaman's gown.

As the shaman orc reaches its hand out across the river, fanning its thick fingers, a dazzling rainbow of color bursts forth, bathing all those on the far shore in irridescence. The fellin and the leather-clad elf both manage to resist the disorienting sensation, however the others are not so fortunate. Ara collapses to the ground, with her bow in one hand, and her other hand reaching into her bag. The halfling ambles backward, then falls, rolling down one of the vertical bars onto the bridge base. The robed elf wavers, then drops to his knees, and finally drops onto his back.

Two of the orcs storm the bridge, striking out against the dwarf who obstructs their path. One swings wide, its club landing against the wooden bridge with a *thud*, a sound all but drowned out by the clamor arising from beneath. The other strikes a crushing blow to Khazmon's left hip, sending a throbbing pain through his side. Of the two common-looking orcs that appeared on the water's edge, one turns to head underneath the bridge, while the other, clad in chainmail, steps in front of the shaman once the spell completes.

The two orcs who had attacked Aust now drag his body away, disappearing into the foliage.

ooc:
Order of initiative was: Taylen, Drakkenclaw, Saeessira, Khazmon, Jean, Freya, Orcs, Silvan, Ara.

Ara, Jean, and Silvan have succumbed to the spell Color Spray. They will be unconscious for five rounds, then blinded for another three. Freya and Taylen saved against the spell.

The blow that struck Khazmon delt 9 points of damage.

As events unfold around you, you hear Ithar repeating, "No, no, bad, bad, no, bad, ugly, bad, no, bad, friends, not safe, bad, no, no happy, no shiny, help, help, hey, come back with that!" In a small blur, you see what appears to be Ithar swoop into the trees after the two disappearing orcs.

ooc:
[GM] UBB pwned Falaanla [/GM]
I did give an idea, attempting to be as vague as possible to let you work out the description, as you asked to do. Note where I mentioned that I was attempting to create a commotion under the bridge. Im sorta confused as to what you want if you want more detail but dont want me to describe the spell in detail so you can describe it? and now for the IC part of my post.

Saeessira nods for a moment as she sees Ithar fly off...

"Ithar! What is it? Where are they taking him? And you, be careful! Don't get hurt!"

[ 03-31-2002: Message edited by: Ford Prefect ]

ooc:
Fal, you did pretty well on page 2 of the first chapter

"No worry, I hide," the little bird answers you.

[Feel free to stop me when I've run out of round to work in.]

Seeing the situation, the stream, and the strange creatures hovering over the partially-unconscious group brings Drakkenclaw to a halt. But only for an instant, barely enough time to blink. Then he sprints for the shore of the river, running crouched low in a strange, animalistic manner - as a predator dashes towards a piece of prey, so the lizardman builds up velocity as he heads for the flowing waters of the stream.

At the last moment, mere moments before hitting the water, his creeping dash morphs into a tensed crouch. From this he springs, using his momentum to leap clear across the stream to the orcs on the other side.

Drakkenclaw roars in bestial fury, howling the thunderous cry of a predator set upon its prey, as he hurls himself towards the creatures. Landing, he twirls slightly in a dance of his robes before using the force of his remaining momentum to launch an intense blow against the nearest of his foes with a spinning side kick.

ooc:
Proceeding with the round so far. That's full round actions for Taylen, Drakkenmaw, Ruvyen, and Aanile.

Taylen's arrow lets out a high-pitched whistle as it flies for its target. The precision of the blow takes everyone, both friend and foe, by surprise, as the arrowhead buries itself at the base of the creature's neck. The shaman grasps at its throat, then drops forward onto the far shore in a heap.

Mere seconds later, the shrouded lizardman bursts through the trees hardly a foot downstream of the leather-clad elf and his feline companion. Charging almost on all fours, he leaps defiantly from the stream's near edge, driving over the waters at a long angle, yet passing over them seemingly with ease, as even his tail behind it escapes the water's edge untouched. He then turns upstream, striking out at the chain-clad orc. In his enthusiasm, his winding strike flies over the chain-clad creature's head.

Up on the bridge, Khazmon faces off against two foes clad in leather garb with signs of long wear, including a mishmosh of resealed gashes. Neither can get past him, nor he them, so it comes down to brute force and determination. His first swing with his handaxe falls wide, leaving his foe untouched. Fortunately, his main hand has fairer fortune, striking a clean blow to the chest of the creature which drove a club into his side. The creature's chest tears open, splashing a wave of blood to the side, as the orc's body reels around and collapses, face down, hanging over the guide rail.

The fellin woman makes the short dash to the shoreline, and jumps across aiming for the opening created by Taylen's arrow. Her jump falls slightly short, as her feet land in calf-deep waters, spashing the water up behind them as she makes the final strides for shore. Her long, purposeful steps carry her through the foliage as if it was not even there. She break through to the trodden trail, and sprints across it, coming to a hault just on its other side.

There, the two orcs have laid Aust down among the dense brush. One of them kneels over the elf's form, using one hand to grip the arrow in its own shoulder, while the other fumbles with a strand of cloth wrapped around the top of Aust's head. The other orc, whose form stands half between Freya and the injured one, raises his club, and takes a defensive stance. Both of the orcs are clad in roughly hewn leather garments, stretched and torn at the seams.

ooc:
Waiting on Falaanla's action, or lack of action, before I play out the orcs and finish the round.

Sae then loads one of the pebbles she found earlier into her sling, while flying up about 5 more feet. She then starts to swing the sling, and then lets the pebble loose, taking aim at the second orc on the bridge.

ooc:
Okay, that's everyone who's awake. This post finishes the second round.

The winged girl's shot goes wide, bouncing harmlessly off the wooden board it stands on. The orcs seem to pay her no heed at this point, as the thundrous racket of pots and pans continues beneath the bridge.

The orcs, enraged by the deaths of their comrades in arms, take the offensive once again. The one in chain garb turns to face its attacker, lashing out with a wooden club nearly as thick as the trunk of a tree grasped in both hands. In a sudden motion, the lizardman arches backward, then lifts its feet and tail up off the ground in a backward flip. The massive club passes beneath him, scraping across the creature's scales gruffly, but hardly enough to slow the swing. An instant later, the lizardman's feet reach the earth beneath him once more.

On the bridge, the orc again swings his club at the dwarf before it. Khazmon quickly shifts his weight, and manages to duck beneath the strike aimed at his head. Shouts of rage escape the creature's maw.

It only takes an instant for the orcs in the trees to react to the Fellin woman's arrival. The one nearest to her strikes out, club in hand. However, the strike falls wide, landing against a nearby tree trunk. The injured orc, however, does not take an offensive stance. It draws back slightly, then returns to finishing off its current task.

With the realization of what has been going on around it, the orc beneath the bridge turns 'round, and charges the lizardman, letting out a wild, almost howling scream. However, the same maneuver which allowed Drakkenclaw to avoid the other orc's blow now places him out of the charging one's path, and it swings wildly at open air.

Swooping down from the trees above, the owl known as Twin Moon swoops down over the trail, then turns into the trees following her companion. As the orc's club strikes the tree, Twin Moon swoops down, slashing at the creature with her talons. The orc grasps at its face, dropping its club, as blood runs from its eyes. It stumbles backward until the small of its back strikes a tree. Then, howling in pain, the creature slips down the tree's side until it sits on the ground against the trunk, and falls silent.

Falaanla

For all your effort, your stone falls wide, bouncing off the planks of the bridge and into the water below. The noise beneath you does not sound quite as loud from up here, and you hear the voice in your mind, "Break them fix them break them fix them, dumb uglies, no think straight."

Khazmon swings his handaxe at the remaining orc in front of him, swinging it from right to left, and stepping forward with his right side, preparing to parry any incoming blows he can with his battleaxe.

ooc:
Drakkenmaw is having some difficulties at home. For now, I'll be treating his character as an NPC. This post will handle all actions so far, including full round actions for Taylen, Khazmon, and Drakkenclaw, and delays for Saeessira and Freya. Taylen, you can only make one attack with a movement action, so your short sword will have to wait.

Also, it seems that a variant on the 2nd edition style of initiative would suit this environment much better than the all-or-nothing initiative found in third edition. This will not affect your actions, only the manner in which they are presented.

The clamor beneath the bridge fades, then dies. Yet the battlefield is not still nor silent, as the conflict rages on. As the leather-clad elf steps back amongst the trees to gain running room, the dwarf on the bridge brings his smaller axe across with an outward swing, tearing a slash across the belly of the creature's torn leather armor as it dodges back just in time to avoid the blow.

The lizardman lashes out against the orc in chain garb, first with a clenched left fist, then following with a sweep of its tail. The first strike lands against the creature's armor, just barely deflecting off metalwork. The orc then dodges back a step, avoiding the lizardman's tail.

Taylen breaks into a short run, then leaps from the shoreline towards the far side of the stream. His feet land in the water near the far side, creating a splash around him, and burying his boots calf deep in the water. As he forces his steps up onto the shore, small springs of clear liquid drain from the seems of his boots. Running along the water's edge, he steps up to the chain-clad orc, drawing a long blade. With an angled downward slash, he cleaves directly into the orc's skull, splitting it in two. The creature collapses into the water.

The orc beside the chain-clad one now finds itself confronted with very poor odds. It turns quickly and flees the scene, headed away from both the stream and the trail, quickly vanishing from the sight of those it leaves behind.

The creature up on the bridge, enraged against its dwarven foe, strikes out with its club once more. Hefting the wooden weapon above its head, the creature brings it down. Khazmon quickly raises his axe, but not quite in time, as the club's edge scrapes along the flat of the axeblade, striking a crushing blow to Khazmon's shoulder. A soft *crack* can be heard, as the dwarf stumbles, dropping the handaxe as his arm falls limp, and he ambles backwards until his other side rests against the rail of the bridge. The orc cries out with a triumphant howl.

ooc:
Ruvyen, you take 5hp damage. Your defensive action wasn't enough to block the strike, but it did help.

It seems that your caution was simply not enough. You find yourself barely able to stand, and your left side is going numb. A blur covers your eyes, and it takes all your effort to keep from passing out entirely.

Aanile

The orc that Twin Moon struck does not appear to be moving, though its hand does not fall from its face. Faint groans emanate from the creature's lungs.

Its companion continues to fumble with the torn strand of cloth wrapped around Aust's forehead for a few seconds more, before finally releasing it. It appears that the creature has tied a knot in the strand, and you can already see a slight stain of blood appearing where the cloth wraps Aust's hair on the back of his head. It still clutches the arrow in its shoulder with one hand, and grunts out a few words you cannot understand.

ooc:
Only Falaanla left this round.

The orc draws back with a final, panicked cry, as your quarterstaff catches it in the shoulder. It rolls away to one side, and lies still and silent beneath a bit of underbrush.

Aust, too, lies still on the ground. It is difficult to tell whether or not he is alive, but the sleeve of his shirt is torn, matching the blood-stained strand of cloth wrapped around his head. A trail of blood droplets, both red and green, leads from Aust's form into the foliage, towards where he kneeled beside the stream a moment ago. Oddly, the spot where Aust's head now lies does not appear stained.

Twin Moon swoops down from the trees, perching on your shoulder. The bird lets out a quiet cooing sound, looking down at Aust's body.

stupid orcs...

She then decides not to use her sling as originally planned...

Khazmon...you'll be fine. even if you find the energy to, dont attack this orc...

After those quick words, Sae starts to chant and wave her hands about carefully, as she focuses her attention on the non fleeing orc. She continues this for a couple seconds, hoping that her attempt with this spell works out as planned, hoping to gain the undivided attention of the sole orc...

ooc:
Casting Hypnotism on the orc on the bridge that isnt fleeing, and targeting only the orc.

[ 04-08-2002: Message edited by: Falaanla Marr ]

A dim glow begins to emanate from the air above. It comes from the small winged girl, whose arms move slowly in a hypnotic pattern, and a rainbow of colors streams almost as a mist from her quickly beating gossamer wings. The orc on the bridge continues howling its warcry for another instant, then slowly quiets down, until it simply stares up at the girl. It's arms drop, and the club hangs limply in one hand. The glow of the girl's wings feels quite alluring...

ooc:
Drak just failed his WILL save (DC 8), so he's now mezmerized. Taylen passed his. Ruvyen didn't make one, since he wouldn't see the effects directly over his head, particularly in his current state. The orc failed, barely, at DC 16. Saessira's body will continue to emanate these hypnotic colors for 4 rounds, however no further saving throws will be needed under current circumstances.

The colors you see remind you of sunset over the dunes. A thousand images flow through your mind, images of home, of those you once called friends, of times long past, and words long forgotten. You see faces, many faces. Then, you see a face you cannot recall. It is one of your kind, though its features seem somehow soft and welcoming. The eyes; they gently call to you, "Stay safe, my child. Stay free..."

Frey leans down to feel for breath that would come from the elf's mouth. After checking she stands up and starts to chant to her diety to help her magicaly heal him as much as possible.

ooc:
just to avoid confusion, im going the direction that the other orcs went in with aust, just sticking to the river.

ooc:
Aani, you never picked a deity, and never needed to. Clerics and paladins need deities. Druids and rangers worship nature itself.

Aust's chest does not rise or fall, and his pulse is very week. Only a faint flow of air escapes his lips, that could easily be stifled if anything were to block his nose. His mouth is closed, and he makes no sound. When you lay your hands on him to heal him, it is hard to believe that the elf is even alive.

You feel a tingling in your fingers, then a wave of warmth passes down your arms and through your hands. Aust's breathing improves slightly, but he does not wake. You cannot see if his wounds have healed, as one is beneath his robe, and the other is covered by the cloth band about his head.

After a few seconds, Taylen walks up behind you. His boots are wet, and creak as he walks, alerting you to his approach. You hear a loud crunching sound behind you, but can see only Taylen and a tree.

ooc:
Aust is healed up to -2 HP. He is stable and unconscious.

As you hover your way upstream, the orc begins to follow. It walks off the bridge, and turns round its rail. However, as the leather-clad elf walks by behind it, the creature haults suddenly, and shakes its head, letting out a short series of loud snorts. The creature then turns, and charges at the leather-clad elf. It clasps its club in the one hand that still holds the weapon.

ooc:
Oh, blah, back in combat again

As you round the thick trunk of a sturdy old oak, you hear a loud thud, almost like a cracking sound. Freya is kneeling down over Aust's body, with her hands on his shoulders, and his forehead between the tips of her knees. The orc you ignored a moment ago now stands just behind you, club in hand, and very much not hypnotized.

Ruvyen

The scene unfolds before you, as you struggle to fight back the pain that courses through you. At first, the orc seems inexplicably mezmerized, and begins to wander slowly away from you, staring up at something in the sky out of your vision. Then the leather-clad elf walks by, and the orc seems to come to its senses. It turns 'round suddenly, and chases after Taylen, club in hand. The elf does not notice the orc's approach, and the creature takes a swing at Taylen. Fortunately, Taylen turns 'round a tree, and the club crashes against the trunk, knocking loose a patch of bark.

Arttemis and Reyolen

You awaken suddenly from a slumber you do not recall taking. The ground beneath you is solid, and you feel none the worse for wear. However, the only thing you can see is a constantly shifting rainbow of colors, as if your eyes are closed, even though you are certain that they are open. Neither of you can say for sure how long you've been asleep, though it seems unlikely that you would rest very well with your heads hurting like a hangover.

He retraced the events that unfolded before he lost consciousness,

"I recall that the first strange event was the oddly dressed, surely idiotic, halfling, which took the attention of the entire party. Nearly. It seemed that Aust had wanted to get some water. Yes, that was it! Aust had crossed the river, and orcs had ambushed him. What a fool. Then, the orcs had turned their attention to the rest of the party. The fool halfling had shouted some annoying message and jumped on the rail. I had, thinking to save the party, attempted to cast charm person on an orc and command it to do my will, i.e., kill orcs. But I had been interrupted...interrupted by what? Orcs don't know spells...but wait. One did, as I recall that one casting right before I went to sleep. It must have been...it must have been that filthy orc that put me to sleep. Ah, my head hurts. These effects seem like....color spray. Yes, that must have been it. How embarressing, being beaten by an orc. No matter, I'm still alive, and I can hear the water, so I can assume I am where I fell, by the bridge,at least until I can see again. This must mean that either the party defeated the orcs, the orcs killed everyone and left me, thinking me dead, or the fight is still going on. I don't hear any fighting, so it is probably one of the first two. Arg, if only I could see."

Silvan sat up and rubbed his eyes some more, and occasionally felt his forehead.

"The effects of colorspray don't last very long, so I must have been out only a few minutes, at best. This blindness should leave me soon, as I recall. The orcs didn't have that much of an advantage on us, so if only a few minutes have passed, the battle is probably still going on. How strange that I do not hear anything...No matter, when the spell fades I shall know."

Silvan, deciding not to draw attention to himself, made as little noise as possible and laid back down, but he couldn't stop a small grown. He closed his eyes and hoped for the spell to wear off soon.Of course, he might be stepped on this way, but that was better then a sword through his neck, sitting up. He would rise when his blindness was gone, and he better knew the situation. Until then, laying was best.

[ 04-11-2002: Message edited by: Reyolen ]

"Jenny? JENNY! I've done it again, my sweet... why don't you come and ease little Jean's pain, eh?"

Jean puts a hand out to his side, still groping for... something... with his other hand.

"Ugh. Jenny, why must your wine always be so potent? I thought I told you to stay away from the elven vintages..."

Jean grins wolfishly as he continues groping.

"Come on, Jenny, come close to your petit lover... I cannot see you through all these colors. Damnable elvish wine, it prevents me from reguarding thy immense... beauty, my dear."

Sae flies fast as she can over to Jean, and holds back a giggle...

My dear Jean! I thought you would be able to handle that wine...

I might be able to find us some more, if you like...

Sae then chuckles, hoping Jean buys her act. She then thinks to herself...

"Hmmm...I haven't had some fun like THIS for awhile..."

You can hear people talking, one male, one female. Both voices are a bit too high pitched for adult elves, though they don't sound wholly child-like either. They sound like they're... flirting?

Arttemis

The voice you hear sounds a bit high for an elven maiden, though it does sound mature. Perhaps someone partway through her development, you cannot really tell. At that moment, your hand finds something soft, and slightly rounded. Perhaps this is the half-elf's leg? She looked rather pretty, though the voice doesn't quite fit. Perhaps it's someone else; after all, you don't know how long you were out.

Falaanla

As you get close and make your comment, the halfling's hand grasps in your direction, and finds itself gently set on the curve of your side, just below your hip, with his fingers reaching back towards your rear.

Taylen

Your longsword whistles through the wind as you roll around in nearly a full turn to face the orc. The whistling stops as your blade cleaves clear through the creature's neck, stopping just short of the tree, and dropping the orc's ugly head to the ground behind it. The thrust of your short sword, driven by sheer momentum, skewers the creature's belly, leaving you with the weight of a dead orc hanging from the blade in your left hand. In all, it is a very pleasant feeling.

Drakkenmaw

After a moment, you find the vision fading. The faces subside, and in their stead, you see that neither the orcs nor your companions are at your side. They are scattered about the area in front of you, on and around the bridge, as well as among the trees on the far side of the trail.

"Oh, but my dearest, dearest Jenny... little Jean needs something else right now to take the spots out of his eyes..."

Jean waggles his eyebrows some more, and starts to reach for his belt.

"Now, come, lead your petit amie to his bed... it is time for a bit of the pinch-and-giggle, if you know my meaning..."

Frey doesn't move from Aust's body, she knew and trusted that Tay would take care of any problems.

"I don't know if I can heal again. He's hurrt badly" She says out in a quiet voice to Tay in elvish.

ooc:
Ah, I see it. Added the deity to your character sheet, so I don't miss that detail later. It didn't affect anything, was just a point of note.

As of this post, all spell effects have worn off. The group is no longer in combat, so feel free to return to normal roleplay.

The high-pitched giggling you hear sounds almost child-like, and the form your hand had managed to find in its groping now vibrates with the laughter. After a few seconds, your vision begins to clear, and you can see the shape of a lovely young woman. At not more than two thirds your own height, the woman is quite petite, deceptively so, as she overs several feet off the ground, surrounded by a soft breeze that you had mistaken for nothing more than wind. A blur of wings beats frantically behind her. What you believed might have been an elven thigh is actually just shy of grasping her behind.

If not for her gossamer wings, you might mistake this woman for the most beautiful of your own kind that you had seen in a lifetime. Fine strands of deep amber adorn her head, some tied back in a brass clasp, while other tufts hang loose in front of her youthful face. Her eyes slant as elven eyes do, and her narrow, pointed ears reach up through her locks. A small, gently sloping nose leads to two full lips the color of freshly picked roses. Her neck is hidden by the collar of a fine gown, parted down the center of the chest, and opening to neatly taylored strands at the shoulders and below the waist. Beneath this outer layer of cloth lies fine silk, covering her arms and crossing over the gap between her full, rounded breasts, and extending down into a long, flowing skirt that reaches to the girl's ankles. Her feet are covered in small, soulless cloth shoes. A shoulder bag hangs across her chest at an angle, along with a string of pearls meant for the neck of a much taller person.

Falaanla

The halfling now grasping your side wears rich but heavily tattered clothes, and a ridiculous beret adorned with silver cord. A frayed purple velvet cape hangs off his back. Strangely, these clothes do not give the impression of poverty, as the small man wears them quite well. He stands just slightly taller than the tallest of your own kind, though he lacks the benefit of wings. His face is slender, and his brown hair is short and well groomed. On the whole, he's quiet handsome, though it's doubtful that anyone the height of your recent companions would notice such details.

Reyolen

The halfling and the winged girl appear to both be having a bit of fun, though you cannot tell which of them is doing so at the other's expense. The girl hovers in front of the halfling, with her waist just at his shoulder height. Ara sits beside you, propped up on one elbow, rubbing her eyes. On the bridge, you can see Khazmon leaning against the railing. The lizardman stands alone on the far side of the water, surrounded by dead orcs. In the distance, Taylen stands with a headless orc skewered on one of his blades. Your other two traveling companions are not in sight.

Taylen

Aust appears to be out cold, lying on the ground with a blood-soaked cloth wrap around his forehead. He doesn't look that heavy, and you could probably carry him, though it would slow down your walking pace somewhat.