Ulthuan

Deral uncrossed his arms and walked to Sirilla to peer over the map. "Lion March is where the host of Lionstone practices combined arms approaches for open fields my lady. If your bloated serpent is awake, you might make it there by the time me and Moontalon have finished supper" he grinned "Although it might be fruitful for us to spend the time looking for whatever you have trouble locating, Princess of Caledor"

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Prince Deral Lionbane, head of the House of Lionbane, Lord of Lionstone and Warden of Tor Charta

Luna, try not to beat them too hard. They are proud about their pseudo-glorious past and their present nothingness, you know.
-Elmoth, about Caledorians

There was a faint click somewhere behind Elessehta as the only warning before the air was filled with multible sharp poison dipped darts flying towards him and his and it was only thanks to his sharp reflexes that he himself had any chance, whatsoever, in avoiding the worst of them, and even so he knew that there was a good chance of them gracing him and leaving him poisoned, likely with something that would take him days to recover, provided he recieved help that was.

Looking out he only got one brief moment to see dark figures crawl closer, wicked blades drawn, handcrossbows with poison tipped darts ready should he move out of his sparse cover, and what was worse, behind them was another group in dark grey cloaks who moved along, and then the situation changed as the figures drew bows and white fletched arrows stuck into the backs of the druchii ambush. It seemed just not that the ambush itself had been ambushed, but who it was, was as of now an open question.

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I love pushing around my small delicatedly painted dolls together with the rest of you.

Izens unleashed an arrow from his bow, a silver streak in the misty air hitting on of the oncoming figures in the chest. As the lifeblood flowed out Izens voice cold and flat rang out. "This is a place shunned by our kind? It is fortunate indeed then, I am comfortable in the unwalked path. Come any closer, and I swear upon the gods I shall end you." He did not know who they where, but perhaps they could leave one alive to speak. His mind ran through the weapons he had with him - his bow and quiver of arrows, four knives concealed upon his body and his swords. Cold grey eyes like the storm watched the movements of the figures.

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[i]The shadow of war is cast long in the dying light of peace.[/i]

*Just to make sure, on which party is Izen shooting - the one aiming poisoned darts on you or the other one aiming arrows at them? *

The poison dart guys. An arrow might hurt but who knows what freaky poison there might be on those darts.

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[i]The shadow of war is cast long in the dying light of peace.[/i]

Shaking his head at his own jumpiness, Karalael made his way to his chambers for the night. As soon as he entered the room, and latched the door behind him, he let out a calming sigh, he felt better for being back in Saphery.

Deciding it was a good idea to bed down for the night, he unbuckled his sword-belt, placing the sheathed blade hanging from it within easy reach of the bed as well as discarded the majority of his golden plate and ithilmar scale in a neat pile on a chest of drawers, leaving just his under-clothes on. His final act before settling himself under the sheets and whispering the minor cantrip to extinguish the candles was to use his wolf-like senses to ensure his immediate surroundings were safe, once satisfied he let himself drift off into slumber.

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As Ele found cover, Tiralya reacted by finding her usual place on the battlefield, the sky. She didn't spend long in the air before she turned and charged with a terrifying roar at the attackers.

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Lord Elessehta Silverbough of Ar Yvrellion, Ruler of Athel Anarhain, Prince of the Yvressi.
Beastly member of The Mage Knight Guild.