***"Ware!! A trap!" bellowed Balefire as he sprang into action, bodily hauling two of the Werre further into the passage with him and shouting at the others to follow. Twilight, whose reactions were equally fast, dragged Mea and J'layah in the opposite direction - towards the tunnel entrance. Chunks of rock were now falling from the ceiling, and sand was beginning to pour in through the ever-widening cracks in a deadly cascade. Elfiran grabbed a bemused Alduin and hoisted him out of harm's way, and not a moment too soon. With a deafening roar the ceiling collapsed, effectively separating the Elven women from the rest of the party..........***
As the dust settled to the passage floor, Elfiran set Alduin down then wiped the dust from his face. "Balefire, the tunnel breach has separated us from the lasses, an' ah do nay be hearin' anythin' from thet side of the rubble! Dangit, this no-magicka zone here means we'll 'ave te clear it the ole fashioned way, by hand". And with that, Elfiran re-sheathes his sword, which appeared in his hand the moment he sensed there was trouble, and began to clear the tunnel. "Ah do nay like the thought of those three out there by thesselves. Who knows whet other dangers they will face, an' even though the lasses kin handle themselves fer the most part, ah think it twill be better fer us te all stay tegether right now." He looks to his companions and says, "Well, are ye gonna help clear it or do ye think thet it's work only fer an ale-soaked tavern owner?".....
Balefire attacked the pile of rock as if it were a living enemy, huge red-gauntleted hands clawing at boulders and armour straps creaking with the force of swelling muscles as he hauled at fallen shoring timbers. All the while the Warmage kept up a constant stream of horrible oaths and invective, his bearded visage twisted in rage and frustration at having to do manually a task that would take a heartbeat to do magically, if only magic worked here. Dust swirled and billowed as the party wrenched at the debris.
"By all the gods of Tamriel," the mercenary mage rasped, "when I find the one responsible for all this, he or she or it will *beg* for death before I am finished." The rune-carved staff slung across his back whined and tittered in bloodthirsty anticipation.
To'khar K'than stood by in the darkness, going over the old ballad. He tried to match up the Warmage with the figure in the second half of that song. Internally, he was all chaos. On one hand, Balefire could be the one. However, if he wasn't, then he had waited perhaps too long to try to dispatch this dark elf. He knew at least two of the remaining three Werre under his command wanted to fight, but their honour would hold them in check. A Werre without honour forfeits life. Only Talnan, possibly the wisest among them, was he sure of, and K'tarin, for he vouched for these intruders. Loriella was too flippant to care. He didn't know how wrong he was.
His heart grew heavy at the thought of her coming into this danger. They were all now under the eaves of a pit of hell. The Guardian Citadel had been empty for generations, and now himself, Cromm K'than, had led a band of Werre into its bowels. Upon reflection, he should have left the boy on the ridge to report his decision to change their status from Watchers to Hunters. At least then, a sizeable arm of Werre would be coming. Such is not the case.
He turned his attention back to the two elves hauling at the rock. His neck felt hot, and he turned to see that not all the women were on the other side. Loriella was there, burning holes in his neck with her eyes. He came to himself.
With a single sweeping glance, he saw only three Werre: K'tarin, Talnan, and the boy. Holm'ka was either with the women or...
Cromm pushed forward and joined the Warmage and humble tavern owner in their rock-raking. The other Werre, eager for something to do, stepped forward as well, but there was room only for one other. The boy and the eldest stood by, waiting for someone to tire.
Loriella watched, mumbling: "There's no danger out there. These men just want to feel useful."
She chuckled at the glares she got from the nearest dark men. Suddenly, K'tarin's hand touch a warm, dusty hand. It gripped him like a vice.
"Holm'ka!"