Trent's Adventure Continues

Trent opened to door wide to allow light into the room that he had previously left unexplored. The dim glow of the hall shed little light on the contents of the room. The large object in the center of the room seemed to reflect the light somewhat, like glass. Otherwise, there was no new information to be had.

He entered, searching to and fro for some clue as to the purpose of the room or the whereabouts of its owner. To his right was a dark corner, to his left more of the large objects. He was reasonably certain that those on his left were cabinets of some sort. Ahead of him stood the large shape with the glass on it. Beyond it, he could see nothing in the dark. The faintest of whispers reached his sensitive ears, stopping him dead in his tracks.

After Trent looked into the room, and as he started to tread into the room, he heard whispers. Stopping in a heartbeat Trent glanced around with a startled look. Thinking that someone had come up into the hallway Trent quickly pulled the door closed and entered the now even darker room, and crouched in the blackness a few feet from the door and to the side. Putting the Spear in one paw, Trent let the knife fall into the other. Catching his breath and willing his heart beat to quiet, Trent tuned his furry ears to the faint sound and it's source.

The dark was stifling. Trent clutched his weapons tightly, listening while his eyes adjusted to the dark. After a moment, he could make out the general shapes of the room's furnishings. Just as he was becoming sure that the sound he had heard was his imagination, the door clicked and began to open. He was hidden for now, but any light would expose him and he had no place to hide...

Stifling a breath Trent clutched his weapons all the tighter and moved to the side of the door, hoping to keep the door between him and whoever it was going through.

The door opened and Trent pressed himself against the wall. The room lit up, the bright lights taking Trent by surprise and making his eyes water. A figure loomed over him.

"Well, Trent," said Niehl coolly, "we meet again." He glanced around the room. "It would seem that our quarry has escaped us this time around. Bernuka has gone to the Sacred Temple of Falkonis. If we catch him there, we'll have another chance at him. Since you've already alerted the guards to our presence, I had to come up with a plan to get us out of here." He beckoned, reaching over to the wall and causing the lights in the room to dim once more. Trent blinked.

Trent visibly relaxed when he saw who it was. Trent was very startled at this display of lights. Glancing at Niehl with an eloquently inquisitive face which was no doubt wasted in the dim light, Trent spoke softly. "How are you doing that? Nevermind, Let's get out of here first. I felt something... bad in the room down the hall. Something is not right here. I wish I knew what." It was only after Trent had finished talking did Niehl's words sink in. Trent glanced sharply at Niehl again. "The Shrine of Falkonis??"

Niehl was in the hall. "This is Bernuka's inner sanctum. It is tainted with the dark rituals he no doubt performs here. The sooner we leave, the better." He began motioning with his hands. "With him gone, magic is probably safe here." Completing his magic, the form of Niehl blurred and changed, becoming that of the large werewolf Trent had battled on the floor below. "Come along," he growled. "This ruse will not hold long." He went down the stairs. As Trent followed, he explained, "This sacred place of yours... Bernuka has gone there with a few of his aides. It is a place he has exhaustively searched for. Now he has found it. Perhaps it is fitting that we will be there as well." He pulled Trent's spear from the door. "Do you mind?" he asked, indicating his desire to keep the weapon by waving it towards the spear Trent aleady carried.

Trent and the wolf/Niehl opened the doors out of Bernuka's lab. They made their way to the end of the hall and took the stairs, passing a few guards along the way. The guards saluted to Niehl, but made no attempt to interact. There was a great deal of commotion on the first floor, just out of sight around the corner. Niehl led Trent a different way than they had come. They entered a dark passage that led to more stairs going down, underground.

[Play along,] said Niehl. [There is a secret exit down here, probably known only to Bernuka. But we will have to pass the guard station. Keep your hands behind your back, out of sight. Don't attract any attention.] He led the way down the stairs.

Trent was surprised to see a cloaked elf sitting at a desk in the room they entered. Behind the elf was a door made of iron bars. [Captain Bale,] said the elf, [I thought you were... injured.]

[I have the intruder,] growled Bale/Niehl. [The alert is over. Let me pass.]

[Wedoi,] he called, standing and moving to the door. A wolf guard showed up from behind the door. The elf opened the door with a key from around his neck and allowed the guard entry. Turning back to Niehl, [No need Captain, we'll take it from here.]

[I want to personally oversee this one,] growled the Captain/General. The elf looked uneasily at the guard. [All right, Captain.] He allowed them to pass, the guard following behind. The door was locked behind them, making Trent nervous.

[So, Captain, I heard that you were injured...] said the guard conversationally, although somewhat nervously. Niehl ignored the comment.

They approached a door on the left. [Hold on,] said the guard. [Let me see if the warden is back.] He approached the open door.

The guard entered the room. [Warden?] Trent could hear him shuffling around. [Captain, could you come in here? I smell something.]

Niehl glanced at Trent, shaking his head. He hefted the spear, nodding towards the door.

Trent looked at Niehl, thinking hard. So this was the swordsman I faced. I wonder why he attacked me... To test me? Or maybe to get us out of here? Hmmm. Whatever it is I'll play along for now. Trent indicated he would follow, and tightened his grip on his own spear.

[Captain,] said the guard. [I think someone's hiding under the desk. I smell blood...] Niehl entered the room, Trent close behind. Niehl brandished the spear, advancing on the unsuspecting guard.

Niehl and Trent entered a room with desk, chairs, and other minor furnishings. The guard was facing the desk, oblivious to the threat coming from behind. Niehl moved to seize the guard when a cloaked figure rolled out from the desk in front of them. It gave a defiant cry, drawing a curved dagger. It said something they couldn't understand and lunged forward, but before it could land a blow it staggered and fell to its hands and knees.

"[]"-denoting Lupine

"[A prisoner!]" exclaimed the guard. Before he could do anything else, Niehl had him in a chokehold. The two struggled as Trent stood by, stunned.

Trent had no time to think as the cloaked figure whirled about, now setting its sights on... him! The shout of "prisoner" echoed in his mind as the figure's hood fell away, revealing an elvish face. This was not a pitiful creature like the sallow one guarding the gate, but a true elf as he had imagined them to be. Before he could react, however, the elf tackled him and they both tumbled to the ground.

Dazed, Trent could only watch as Niehl lifted the equally stunned elf into the air. "[Trent, get up!]"

"[We can't very well leave this creature here,]" said Niehl. "[There's no telling what will happen if it is left to its own devices. Agreed?]" Trent concurred. "[After you,]" said the General. Trent exited ahead of his "partner". They plunged down the corridor, Trent taking the lead. "[The next door on your right,]" advised Niehl after passing several.

Within the plain room, Niehl stood before the wall, dropping the cloaked elf while he waved his hands in arcane gestures. A small passage opened before them. The two with their prize left the palace. The passage continued for time beyond Trent's ability to count. He was imagining what kind of tricks or traps might wait in the darkness of the tunnel. Niehl led, stopping from time to time to deal with those threats. The passage ended abruptly, in the roots of a great tree. After a brief look, both were satisfied that their exit was safe.

"[We must push on as far as we dare,]" said Niehl. They ran until dark, then ran further, until the stress of the day caught up to Trent. Niehl insisted on taking watch while Trent rested. The General claimed that they were too near their goal for him to rest easily.

Trent awoke in a foul mood. Trent slowly stood, his back sore from the hard ground, and spread his arms out in a stretch. Inhaling the thick forest air deeply Trent began to feel better, until he remembered the substance of his dreaming as well as the happenings of the previous night. Despite his sleep Trent felt very worn out. He had not enjoyed the long trek through the cramped passage. Trent saw Niehl questioning the small elf and decided not to interfere for now. Looking out into the forest Trent recalled his dream. All he could remember of it was Bernuka's face laughing at him. Now he had dared to defile Falkonis's Shrine! Spitting his distaste Trent turned back to the scene of Niehl and his prisoner. Trent's thoughts slowly went to Niehl as he listened to the conversation. Trent still didn't know who exactly he was and which side he was on. One thing is for sure, Niehl is a good swordsman, as well as having some powerful magic. Trent absently rubbed the remnants of the wounds Niehl had given him. Alright, time to see what is going on here. Trent slowly walked to within a few feet of where Niehl and the elf were and stopped. From what little conversation Trent had heard he was curious about the elf.

The elf was speaking: "--My business in this land is simple. Many weeks ago, an invader entered my home. This invader raped and burned my Mother. He killed my friends and then was gone as quickly as he had come. I speak of humans! I left my place of birth behind for one reason. I am here as Vengeance. I am here as Revenge. I am Mother's Avenger, and I will not rest until the humans who have so corrupted Her have been destroyed!" A growl entered the feral elf's voice.

Damir's outburst caused the throbbing to begin in the back of his skull once more. Despite the pain and his scrapes and bruises, the elf felt rejuvenated. The worst of his symptoms and his weakness had passed.

"Isn't that just like the humans? Taking what they desire and destroying everything else. I would assume that you have no plans, then? You just wish to slake your thirst for blood? Die atop a heap of their mutilated corpses?" The wolf paused for effect, then crooned, "Or maybe you would rather live to see your foes defeated and this threat ended once and for all? We are not so different. We stand to gain so much, merely by joining forces."

Damir shook his head, the magic earring taken from the ship jangling against his head. The elf could feel his strength returning and he rose slowly, trying not to alarm the wolfman into any brash course of action. The Qiduinn just stood in a crouched position, low to the ground in case a quick getaway was necessary. "No, I don't wish to die atop their corpses. I wish to make a heap of their corpses and return to my homeland victorious. My thirst is not for the black, vile substance that runs through human veins. It is for justice! They killed mine. I will kill theirs. Mother must be avenged." Damir wondered at this wolfman. He didn't act like the others and now he was actually suggesting that they join forces? The thief didn't know what to make of this. The Elders had told him he couldn't trust anyone but a true Qiduinn, but he would need help if he was to survive in human lands. He gave the wolf a suspicious eye. "What makes you think I need your help? Why do you offer it in the first place? Are you not allies with those so-called 'elves' and humans?"

Damir discretely sniffed, trying to take in the smells around him. The bitter, iron smell of blood was all he could smell, however. He realized it was the robes he still wore, stained with the blood of the elf he had killed. With their noses, he had no doubt that these wolf creatures could smell it as well.

The wolf's laugh was a gutteral growl. "So-called elves indeed. They are the pitiful remnants of a once proud elven nation. It was the humans who hunted them like animals, and animals they nearly became. They turned to dark magic in their fight and they have suffered greatly for it. But despite what you may have seen, they are the most powerful of their kind. All the rest perished. I would say their hatred for humans is greater than your own. Does that answer your questions?"

Damir shook his head as he threw off the offending robes. The smell of blood reminded him too much of death. As a child of Nature, the Qiduinn viewed death as just another step in the cycle of life. Somehow, it seemed wrong now. Ever since he had left the jungle, Damir had felt his link with Mother Gaia lessening. Death seemed a grim and frightening thing now. Besides, the robe didn't really fit his lean frame anyway. He continued shaking his head at the wolfman. "No, that only explained why those creatures who dare call themselves my kin attacked me. It said nothing of who you are or why you wish to help me. I can only assume you possess a small amount of honor, seeing as how I am still breathing." Damir looked at the wolf expectantly, his eyes dodging behind him to the other silent figure.

With the bloody robe no longer interfering, Damir could smell the refreshing scent of the forest... and the faint gamey smell of unwashed wolf.

"You're a very literal creature, aren't you?" The wolf paused, thinking. "Let me say it another way. Personal feelings and pride are irrelevant. All that matters is our goal. When we find others who share our goal, we can only benefit from joining forces. Where two fail, three may succeed. You wish to drive the humans away once and for all. We are on the first step of that quest even now. I ask out of simple pragmatism." The wolf followed Damir's gaze. "I am called Niehl," he said, "that one is Trent."

Trent had been staring curiously at Niehl during the conversation, wondering who he was and what his purpose was. Wasn't he human? Or was he a lupine who had used a human disguise? Confused, Trent almost missed the reference to his name. Startled out of his thoughts, Trent only managed an inclination of his head towards the elf. There's too much going on that I don't know... Too many variables. Too many players. And the only one I can trust is myself...

Niehl gazed at Trent. "Forgive my companion, Damir. He does not share my fondness for new faces. Still, we should put aside our differences and free the werewolf kingdom once and for all. Since we are all awake, we should set out straightaway. We have an important matter to attend to at the Shrine of Falkonis."

Damir regarded the two with a suspicious eye. Niehl seemed trustworthy enough, but looks could often be deceiving. His silent companion didn't seem to care one way or another. Still, the words rang true. The thief's mind raced quickly. A couple of large wolfmen could be very useful in his quest.... The logic of such an alliance screamed in his huge ears, but a sliver of doubt still remained. Free the werewolf kingdom and eradicate the humans all in one blow? It seemed almost too good to be true, but the elf wasn't sure he WANTED to free the werewolves. So far he had only met two of their kind who had not been intent on beating him senseless or cutting him open. Could he trust these two? Damir smiled. "If it's such an important matter, then we should be off at once, shouldn't we?"

"Excellent," said Niehl, revealing his sharp teeth. "Let us be off then." He nodded to Trent. "Lead the way."

The thought of Bernuka at the Shrine of Falkonis rose in Trent's thoughts. He could sense the holy place, even at this distance. 'What will happen if Bernuka defiles the shrine?' Vengeance and protectiveness were combined into one emotion for the werewolf. Still deep in thought, he turned and led the way.

The three traveled in the dark for some time, quietly mulling the events of the past day. They moved like ghosts, making no sound, leaving no sign of passage. The forest reminded Damir of his home, despite the cooler clime and foreign flora. All of his senses were alert for danger, but the life in the forest seemed subdued. Benevolent even. Both of the werewolves were watching him, and interestingly enough, they were pointedly watching each other. He was becoming increasingly hungry, unsure when they would stop and what food would be available.

Trent felt drained, the surges of adrenalin of the previous day long spent. He was confused and tired. The thought of revenge still burned brightly, though distantly, luring him onward with its irresistable power. If they pressed on, they would find the hidden shrine by the next day, he was sure of it. How long they could maintain their current pace was another matter.

Damir trotted along behind the others on all-fours, carefully watching both his surroundings and traveling companions closely. The tension was so thick you couldn't cut it with a very sharp knife, but still they moved on. The elf didn't allow him mind to wander; his mission was much too important. Dreams of revenge on the foul humans filled his thoughts throughout the entire journey. Occassionally, the beauty of the forest would draw him out of his daydreams and let him bask in the glory of Nature. He smiled to think that even in these barbarious lands Mother could survive and flourish. A low growl sounded from somewhere near their location. The Qiduinn returned the growl and looked around for the source, finding nothing but unoffending shrubs. A little annoyed, Damir cried up to Niehl. "I'm hungry. Let's stop and hunt."

Niehl stopped. "Very well, but be quick about it." He leaned against a tree, seemingly at ease. "Trent, one moment. Our new friend has need of food."

Damir left Trent and Niehl waiting. Despite the unfamiliar place, he soon found several promising trails. He found an excellent hiding place and waited himself. Mindful of time constraints, he took the first deer he saw, a small fawn. Looking it over, it did occur to him that it would not be enough for himself and two massive werewolves. Then again, they didn't bother to hunt so it served them right to go without.

Damir tore into the fawn without a further thought for the two wolfmen. In the jungle you had to learn to fend for yourself. Granted, this wasn't the jungle, but it was a lesson the elf had never forgotten. He had been thrust out into the wild on his own when he was still young in an attempt to toughen him for life's future dangers. Between the man-sized jaguars and head-hunting Monkey tribesmen, the young elf had to work extremely hard to avoid his enemies while providing himself with enough food to survive the year. The harrowing experience had taught him quickly how to survive by his wits and quick thinking. The skills had come in handy later on when he found his calling as a thief. Sure, there weren't many places to thieve in the jungle, but the Qiduinn found that his natural abilities complemented the profession perfectly. Damir tore another piece from the deer's shoulder and chewed it noisily. When he had finished eating, he slowly made his way back to the others. He absent-mindedly wiped the fresh blood from his lips.

...

When Damir disappeared, Niehl turned to Trent. "You have been disturbingly quiet. Do you disagree with my methods?"

Trent regarded Niehl questioningly. "I just don't understand this..." One question jumped to the forefront. "Why did you attack me?"

Niehl laughed in his now low, gutteral fashion. "I didn't attack you, I merely assume the form of your assailant. While we escaped, the real Captain Bale was in the infirmary, nursing the wounds you gave him. It really seems to be an ideal disguise, authoritative enough to avoid unnecessary... entanglements, but low profile enough to be almost unremarkable. Brilliant, don't you think?"

Trent remained silent, mulling things over.

"You have doubts. That is dangerous. This Damir has no such doubts. Perhaps you wish to send him in your place. Perhaps I was mistaken about you..." The two sat, waiting, neither speaking. ... A slight rustle alerted them to the return of the elf. He seemed to be revitalized, if somewhat gore-splattered.

"Shall we?" asked Niehl, motioning for Trent to lead the way. They traveled on.

The next day was uneventful and quiet. Trent felt the pull of the sacred place, stronger and stronger. It was the only famliar, comforting thing left to him. It seemed that no time had passed at all and he was there. The clearing before the cave. He stopped, relieved and apprehensive at the same time. It felt like time had never touched this place.

Niehl stopped short. "This is the place?" he asked.

Damir also stopped, sensing the quiet power of the clearing. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it. The sky opened up above them, bright sun shining on the small cave. The wind was still.

The elf sat quietly on his haunches and waited for the wolfmen to approach the cave. This place obviously held some importance to them, and perhaps danger as well, so it was best to let them go in first. The thief didn't know why they had come here. Was this place known to house an infestation of humans inside? Or was this the first step of their plan on freeing the werewolf nation? Damir's ears fell to the sides of his head. It didn't matter in the long run.....He wouldn't stop until his mission was completed. He whined impatiently at the two.

Niehl stepped into the clearing. He walked towards the cave, saying, "This cave is the Shrine?" As he neared the entrance, he suddenly recoiled. He faced Trent and Damir. "Sealed." The large werewolf paced in front of the entrance.

Trent approached the entrance, also sensing the barrier. As he followed Niehl's former path, attempting to gain entry himself, he too was rebuffed by a powerful force. Even he could not enter.

Damir watched to two lupines. Niehl seemed largely unconcerned while Trent was visibly shaken. The Qiduiin waited a moment before deciding to test the barrier for himself. He found it real enough. They had come to this place for nothing.

"We will wait," said Niehl simply, craning his head to one side. He sat still, patiently waiting while Damir and Trent sought to occupy their minds. In this place, time may have had little meaning, but waiting was still difficult. What seemed like ages passed.

Trent was sitting on the ground, Niehl standing near the cave entrance very close by, and Damir was some distance away, preferring the forest to the open space. At the same time, Trent sensed and Damir saw the imposing form of a werewolf warlock coalesce in the clearing behind the dragoon's back.

"Good Evening, Trent, Damir. I trust you've waited for my appearance long enough..."

Damir jumped to his feet, dagger awkwardly held out before him defensively. The new wolfman had appeared from out of nowhere, taking him completely by surprise. The thief felt a sense of failure. His unnatural alertness and danger sense hadn't picked up on the cloaked figure's presence. It somehow felt....wrong. He'd never been snuck up on before. "Shaman..." growled the elf. Magic, while accepted to a certain degree by the Qiduinn, was still seen as a thing to be treasured and only used in defense of Mother, never as an everyday weapon. Tribal magic-users were referred to as shamans and were mainly used as diviners and healers. The type of magic he had just seen was evil in his mind. On top of that, the warlock had known his name! Perhaps he had learned it when his companions were busy cutting into the elf's head. A rage built up inside the feral Damir and he snarled viciously. "I don't know who you are, but if you don't leave this place now you'll regret it!"

Trent was meditating. Barely aware of the world around him he sat, deep in thought. I can't beleive this! I am so close to... home. Yes, that's the right word. It's the only place I can call home now. But I can't even enter! Why not? Trent let his mind wander, waiting for some miraculous inspiration to get him through the seal. Nothing came to Trent except for "Good evening, Trent..." Confused, Trent thought harder. He could not place the voice... It was not Niehl's and not the small elf Damir's either. Angered yet again at his inability to figure out a puzzle, Trent lost his concentration and his eyes snapped open. Trent only took a few seconds to take in the fact that this was a stranger. And he though he knew who it was... Trent stood up, but made no move other than that. Trent stared at the werewolf without a sound. Trent kept waiting for his miraculous inspiration, believing it would never come.

The wolf cackled gleefully. "Now that is something even I did not expect... attacked by my ally, befriended by my enemy." He cast his reproving glare upon Damir. "Now, my wild elf, is that any way to treat a kindred spirit? Rest assured, without my help, the humans will plague you endlessly. But I offer you my assistance freely. Perhaps I have been mistaken once again..." As he spoke he walked slowly to Trent, unconcerned and collected. He looked over the dazed and weakened Lupine, shaking his head.

"Tsk tsk Trent, you disappoint me. So much promise, and look at what has become of you! Running, tail between your legs(if you'll pardon the expression)," he added with a smirk, "from everyone you meet. You have me at a loss. I really expected more from the Order of Falkonis..."

Trent could not stop trembling as the other wolf approached. He did not know why; it just happened. Trent took a few steps backwards, unable to speak in his rage. Finally Trent gave up as he did not know what to say. Hefting his spear, Trent growled menacingly and simply said, "[Who are you?]"

The robed black wolf cast an unconcerned glance at Trent. "[You know very well who I am, Trent. You see me every waking moment of every day, from when you first rise until you close your eyes at night. Then I become the stuff of your nightmares. I have made you and you exist only at my whim. Do you not recognize your true master, Trent?]"

The Lupine turned to Damir. "I am Bernuka Veenous, Lord of Goranthor, Greatest of the Lupines. I thank you for coming out of your way to meet with me."

Damir eyed the robed wolf warily. Anyone who could just appear out of nowhere like that deserved his mistrust. When the creature approached, Damir took several steps back and growled in warning. Bernuka....Wasn't that the name mentioned by the long-eared [expletive deleted] and her wolven lackeys? Their master, huh? Then HE must have been the one who ordered them to do whatever it was they had done to him. The elf's ears stood straight back against his head. "You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I will ally myself with anyone who opposes the humans, but I assure you that I neither forgive nor forget slights against me! I've just come from a prison run by your followers and am still recovering from the indignities I suffered in your name! You are no less evil than the human scum! Why would I ever join up with you?" The Qiduinn snarled to end his point.

Trent fell to his knees in a spout of uncontrollable emotion. He heard his enemy talking to Damir but didn't listen to anything past Bernuka's introduction. None of the rest mattered. Trent knew that what Bernuka had said to him had some significance, but he didn't care to think about it. Drops of blood fell to the ground as Trent bit his lip in anger. Trent got back to his feet, hearing nothing except the screams of the dead and dying as his city was destroyed yet again in front of him. The scene was now so familiar to Trent that he still managed to see Bernuka through it all. Trent restrained the urge of hurling his spear at Bernuka in a futile attempt to kill him then and there. Trent slowly walked past Damir to within a few feet of Bernuka without ever letting his eyes wander away from Bernuka. "[Gasder, give me strength.]" Trent whispered softly as he brought his spear in front of him, angling it toward Bernuka's neck. "[This all ends now.]" whispered Trent, just loud enough so Bernuka could hear it.

The Warlock sighed in exaggerated fashion. Both elf and werewolf were now arrayed against him in a hostile fashion. He stood, simply waiting, neither acknowledging their aggression nor continuing his speech.

Trent drew the spear up in front of him. He wanted to drive it into Bernuka's flesh. He could see himself doing the deed, but the thought chilled him. He lowered the weapon. He struggled internally, knowing full well he wanted to attack. Every time he prepared himself to attack, he found himself standing at ease. He found himself not wishing to strike... he did not want to sully Gasder's spear with the blood of this foul creature. He cradled the spear carefully. He could choke the life out of the warlock with his bare hands, but he would not soak the shaft in the wolf's black blood.

Bernuka watched Trent with interest, not deigning to respond to Damir's question for the time being. He growled under his breath, perhaps chuckling. Finally, he regarded the elf once more. "You are not in any position to ask foolish questions. You have invaded my land; you are the defiler here. The sentence for such an outrage is swift death. You are quite lucky you were only tested. As we both know, the ill effects of your ordeal have already passed. The elf you murdered cannot say the same."

Trent allowed himself to lower the Spear. As he cursed himself for his indecisiveness, he took a step backwards and sighed. When Trent finally spoke, his voice was quiet and strained. "[What are you trying to do? Why did you do this to me? Why did I live when everyone else died? Tell me! I must know before I can avenge those you've killed! I deserve to know because of the hell you have made my life.]"

"[Very well, Trent. You live because I will it. That is all. You are merely a puppet. You will be spared so long as you continue to serve my purposes.]" Laughter rumbled in the warlock's chest once again. "[But know that it is because of you that those you once cared for suffered. You not only allowed it, but you are also the cause of it. Were it not for you and your Order, many might have been spared. You know this to be true, do you not?]"

Damir's eyes narrowed and he growled at Bernuka. How dare this fleabag speak to him like that? The elf spat out his words in an angry snarl. "Elf? I killed no elf! I killed a sniveling lapdog to an even bigger mongrel! He was no more an elf than I am a phuanaba!" The thief shifted his gaze over to Niehl. The wolfman had remained silent during this entire exchange and so far seemed content to sit there and listen. Perhaps he still holds some allegiance to this beast! So be it! I can handle this myself. Turning back to the robed wolf, Damir shook his head. "I have done nothing to defile this land. It is your presence here that harms my Mother, not mine. If anyone should be punished for their deeds, it is YOU!" Damir leaped back, ready to strike, but Bernuka didn't seem interested. Before the elf could react, Trent walked foward and began a dialogue with the shaman in their lupine language. Confused, the Qiduinn stood back and waited to see what the outcome of their conversation would be.

Bernuka laughed. "Pity." The warlock turned to Niehl. "[Nox, kill it. Take your time.]" He returned his attention to Trent, no longer interested in Damir at all.

Soundlessly, without even stirring the air, the form of Niehl appeared in front of Damir. The elf flinched but could do little else as the werewolf reached for him, its cold hands passing right through his chest and gripping his heart like an icy vise. Trent and Bernuka watched as the twitching elf was lifted from the ground and held in the air, gasping for breath to scream.

Damir tried to struggle, but beating on the arms holding him aloft just seemed to make the crushing grip tighten. He looked at where the wrists passed into his body, a strange unearthly mist forming in the air around the points of contact. It was difficult to breathe and his consciousness threatened to be overwhelmed by darkness.

Trent could barely speak with the rage boiling up inside him. How could he accuse me of being the cause of their deaths? I am no puppet of his! Urgghh! Trent was about to make a retort to Bernuka when Niehl attacked Damir. Trent watched in horror as the traitor Niehl put his hands into Damir's chest. Trent looked back at Bernuka with incomprehensible fury, then turned back to Niehl with the intent of driving the Spear straight through the treacherous scum.

Overcome with fury, Trent launched himself towards the wolf he had known as Niehl, driving the point of his spear into the back of the creature holding Damir. With a shock, he felt as if his soul were being rent, as the strength of his blow flowed out of him and into his enemy. He gasped, falling to his knees, still clutching the spear before him.

Bernuka began to laugh uncontrollably. "[Fool! Let that be a lesson to you. Never abuse the gift I have given you.]"

Damir could only manage a groan as his life was also torn away from him. He hung twitching in the creatures grasp; his thin frame suspended by nothing more than a pair of wraith-like hands in his chest. His heart felt as though it would burst at any moment, yet his entire body felt icy cold. The elf was helpless. He couldn't scream or move his arms, and struggling only intensified the pain. Damir gritted his teeth. Trent's attack had done more harm than good. The thief would have to rely on himself to get him out of this....No matter the pain, he was as good as dead as long as Nox held him in his grip. Damir tried to leap away from the creature, pushing off of Nox with his dangling legs.

Damir prepared himself for one last effort... it was now or never. He pressed down on the arms restraining him while simultaneously kicking off with his legs. He felt the world spin around him, but as his blurring vision cleared once again, he found himself still held fast. He slumped in the creature's arms, powerless, as his extremities grew cold.

"[Now, Trent, where were we? Ah yes. Here is another creature whose life you have forfeited. Does it still bother you? I should think you would have accepted these eventualities by now. As you continue to serve me, you will learn to turn a deaf ear to their pleas.]"

Damir managed to gurgle weakly, barely remaining conscious. Breathing was becoming all but impossible.

Trent reeled backwards in pain and surprise as his own attack was turned on him instead of Nox. Turning back to Bernuka, Trent weighed his options. "[I have never and will never serve you!!!]" His eyes dripping hatred, he spun around to stare helplessly at Damir's small form being drained of energy. Cursing Trent tried to think of something he could do to stop Niehl/Nox. I've got it! Let's see how he fares against this!

Trent pulled himself inward and forced himself to forget the closeness of Bernuka and poor Damir impaled on Nox's hands. Feeling his concentration come together, Trent opened his eyes and locked them on Nox's form. I only hope this doesn't hurt Damir. Trent then outstretched his arm and cried, "Come forth holy winds of destruction!"

The blast of air swirled around the great werewolf and spasming elf alike. As quickly as the windstorm had been summoned forth, it dissipated harmlessly.

Bernuka's laughter continued to ring in Trent's ears. "[Such words... Few masters would tolerate such words.]" The werewolf watched the mortal struggle taking place before him. "[Now pay close attention. When Nox finishes feeding, he tends to tear his meal limb from limb. I imagine the unfortunate victim can still feel the pain. I don't really care for the sound, the stretching and tearing of flesh, but you may enjoy it. It will be a fitting reminder of how those around you die because of you. In essence, they are sacrifices to you. I think you will become fond of this sound before long.]"

Damir groaned, his eyes rolled back in his head, still feeling the unnatural hands tearing him from the inside out.

Trent groaned. Of course he would stop my magic! He's much stronger magically than me. Trent darted his eyes wildly in search of some way to stop this madness. Any magic I use Bernuka will stop. I can't attack Bernuka with the Spear and I can't attack Nox directly at all! So what can I... Suddenly Trent remembered a certain item he had managed to pilfer from the palace. A ceremonial knife. Well, if I can't attack Bernuka with the Spear, I'll use this! Taking out the knife Trent sprinted toward Bernuka and slashed at him while yelling, "Damir! Try to escape!".

With great force of will, Trent put away the Spear of Gasder. He drew forth the ceremonial knife and charged Bernuka. Within striking distance, the Warlock's gaze fell on him, freezing him in his tracks. The dagger shook, falling from his quivering hand. Bernuka looked down at the fallen weapon.

"[Well, Trent, at this rate I shall live forever. You should start with an easier target. How about your elven friend there.]" The werewolf gestured broadly towards the now apparently unconscious Damir, still cruelly impaled.

Damir hung limply on Nox's wrists. His life was slowly ebbing away and there was nothing he could do about it. Trent's efforts were wasted and the elf didn't even have the strength left to struggle. The Qiduinn's eyes rolled around in his head as he passed out.

Trent had enough. Nothing he did seemed to work. He hadn't really expected to be able to kill Bernuka, but he had to have tried. Trent didn't even bother to reply to Bernuka's taunts. He tried to pick up the dagger, and upon securing it, attack Nox in one last effort that Trent was sure would kill him. As Trent charged Nox, he could only think of his friends and family dieing. Trent went for Nox's neck, hoping to do some damage before he joined them.

Trent stoically faced the back of Bernuka's behemoth. Dagger in hand once more, he raised the weapon high. With impossible speed, Nox turned to face him, still holding Damir aloft with one arm. The other arm was thrust into Trent's chest, greeting him with the now-familiar feeling of having his life force wrested from him.

"[No, Nox. Put that one down,]" said Bernuka, coolly. The beast did not comply.

Damir's limp form twitched once more.

Trent grunted with the impact of Nox's arm through his chest. It's over now. I've gotten myself and this elf killed all because of my stupidity in trusting this monster. Losing himself in rage, Trent repeatedly tried to stab Nox on the face and neck with the knife.

The impact and subsequent drain stole Trent's breath. He was easily lifted off the ground, going limp as Damir had done. His vision dimmed as he beheld the black, soulless eyes of his destroyer.

Nox let out an unearthly groan, suddenly dropping Trent to the ground. Lying helplessly, Trent watched as the werewolf became a black shadowy form, like a hole in the fabric of space. The form pulsed and moaned. The last thing he saw as the darkness overtook him was the face of Bernuka grinning down at him. Continue to Trent Three