From: Balefire Subject: [Porc] Integuments and Impediments Balefire smiled gravely at the Werre warriors and returned their salute. His gaze took in all of the assembled companions, and when he spoke his bass rumble echoed with emotional overtones. "I am honored to be associated with all of you, and most grateful to have such a collection of heroes with whom to share this quest. It appears that I have walked into an unexpected destiny, and it may be that some or all of us may meet Death ere this affair be settled. Let us hope that it be our foes' rather than ours." The warmage looked at Elfiran and chuckled grimly, "Who would have thought that protecting a tavern would lead to this? 'Tis a true friend you are, and I earnestly hope that we will be able to speak of these doings over ale in the Porcupine in the not-too-distant future. Now it appears we must perform the deeds of which to boast later." He spoke to the rest of the party, grim determination ringing in his voice, "Let us spread out somewhat, and be prepared for anything. My night sight should suffice until we reach the areas where the Art can again be used to illuminate things somewhat. Follow me, then, for now." Checking to see that his staff was securely slung, and loosening his great sword in its scabbard, he turned and led off at a brisk march. *************** "Bide a while, good Elfiran. We have come quite a distance unchallenged, and I feel...yes!...behold!" The Dark Elf mercenary's eyes glowed brighter, and his voice turned gleeful as he waved a hand. Soft light suffused the passageway and Balefire's staff flared in answer with its blue-black nimbus. "The Art is usable once more, my friend. Our fortune turns." Elfiran smiled in answer, and replied, "Aye, Balefire, and none too soon. D'ye ken thet sound, from thet away, down yon branching tunnel? Methinks it may be a..." "Scorpion!" Loriella's voice rang out from behind them, as the tunnel mouth was suddenly filled with a clattering confusion of claws, mandibles, and gleaming chitin, a ton of arachnid ferocity bent on their destruction. Balefire leapt straight at the giant scorpion, his claymore's scabbard-leaving "shriiinng!" ending, with its blood-red arc, in a deadly "crunch!" as it met the flashing attack of a huge claw and sheared into and through the armor-like integument, spraying ichor over the ancient rock of the tunnel walls. Whirling, ducking, and changing direction in a confusion of blood-red armor and swirling cloak, the warmage danced out of the way of the creature's arrow-quick barbed tail, turned a drop kick into its razor-edged mandibles into a twisting leap over its carapace, and brought his claymore flashing down and through its other claw, almost faster than the eye could follow. The Dark Elf then *ran down* the scorpion's segmented back, barely pausing as he caught the stabbing tail stinger in powerful hands and plunged it into the creature's own body. Blue-white light exploded around the warmage atop the now-dying scorpion, and he shouted "Ware magic!" as he absorbed the spell thrown at him and answered it by flinging a roiling mass of green energy down the passageway behind the scorpion's body. The spell-flare illuminated the contorted features of a dying mage caught by Balefire's Wrathbolt, and briefly showed other figures massed farther back in the darkness. "Black and Red!" Balefire's war cry rang out, and the battle-lust in his deep laugh echoed from the walls. "Black and Red!" and "Follow me, heroes!" as he dropped from sight beyond the scorpion's carcass.