Dawn broke across the woodland. Slivers of light battled there way through branches, leaves, and falling debris caused by the occasional critters. The trees grew tall and slender but were knit quite close to each other leaving gaps of barely a wingspan. The air was crisp, smelling what can only be described as natural. The air itself could leave a feeling of peacefulness and a connection to nature in even the most battle hardened soldiers or fiendish of criminals. It seemed like a perfectly painted picture. In a picture nothing could go wrong unless the artist so wished it. It was hard to believe that things could be going wrong in other parts of the world just by watching this dawn, this perfect painting.
The leaves rustled in a gentle breeze castings shadows that danced around his feet. A lone figure stood in the middle of no where, with practically nothing, around no one. He'd been there since midnight awaiting this opportunity. He wanted to see what life looked like once again in the land of Imythess. It'd been far too long since he'd stepped foot in these fluctuating territories and frankly he felt a bit homesick. He'd seen too much death, too much loss, too much despair, too much honor, too much gain, too much victory while he was away. He'd seen wars of large and small, he felt what it was like to be a foot soldier and what it was to lead a cavalry. He didn't want that anymore and so here he was, staring at that perfect picture, the one in a million and...
... He hated it. The innocence of it all, the pure good that oozed from every corner of the portrait so to speak. The heat of the sun seemed to fuel his adrenaline as he gritted his teeth looking around disgusted. He blamed everything for what he'd become in the period he was away. He regretted ever leaving in the first place yet he regrets nothing. Astalder clapped his hands together with a fierce roar. As his hands made contact thunder grumbled off in the distance and grew closer. The sun was gone and all that could be seen through the thicket of trees was grey. It was a grey oblivion as clouds thick as butter swam over Norwood Forest.
He zipped in and out and around trees with the magical powers of Haste. It could only take a fellow Elf to be able to hear the light footsteps of Astalder considering he was an Elf himself. He let his wings back, not folded, but not out also. They were as if he was about to flap them but stopped halfway.
He jabbed his sword into the ground violently with another yell and a blue bolt of lightning danced it's away around the trees and found the top of his dome. He lifted himself from his previous kneeling position. A lightning aura crackled around him for a few minutes and soon dissipated. How could this be? How could everything be fine? "How could this whole damned place not know?!" he bellowed at the sky fists clenched and arms bent half way. With a sigh Astalder sat down and stared at his blade to collect his thoughts...

When all was not well with the land, with the people, with himself, Oppel could always find peace in Norwood Forest. It was his home, after all, and every passing moment within the wooded oasis allowed Oppel to be more at ease than ever possible outside of it's borders.
The day was growing old, and the sun's disappearance from the sky allowed the dew to set among the brush and the moistness of the ground softened the gallop of Gwaith, the unicorn Oppel was trotting upon. The majesty of Gwaith outshone the ruggedness of Oppel, and Oppel did not feel as if he deserved the honour of riding on the back of a creature of such beauty. Still, Gwaith was a faithful steed, and serviced Oppel's every need. The thick clouds that covered Norwood made the Oppel unable to rely on his sight, but more his hearing. His elven ears could pick up every slight noise and disturbance in the woods, allowing him to properly guide Gwaith who relied on his own mystical senses to choose his steps wisely in the absence of a good light source.
From time to time Oppel would use the spell control winds to sweep some fog that had settled out of his course of travel, allowing him better sight of the paths ahead. Many small animals leaped out of Gwaith's way, and from his peripherals Oppel could see the critters stop to stare at the unicorn. He couldn't help but wonder if other animals felt the same majesty of unicorn's as most of the races of Imythess did.
After trotting for some time Oppel heard some many paces away the hasty movement of what he could only assume to be a fellow wanderer. This assumption rang true as Oppel could not identify the movement of any group, just a sole wanderer. It was true that humans, dwarves, and most other races were not as graceful, and crunched loudly when their steps hit the earth. Therefore, the wanderer was sure to be a fellow elf, one who spoke grace in the lightness of their steps. Oppel threw his leg over Gwaith and dismounted the unicorn. Though Oppel rode without a saddle, he had his double-bladed staff tied to the unicorn's side. He unwound a knot at either end of the staff and spun it once before settling it upright to his side. Giving Gwaith a soft pat on the side, the unicorn turned around and began to head back in the direction in which it game. A moment later the sound of lighting must have spooked the beast as it sped up and galloped away. Oppel, turned toward the noise, began to head in the direction in which it came.
Heading towards the noise, Oppel heard a sudden, loud bellow. He recognized that wanderers often visited Norwood to seek release from the other parts of the land that were more troublesome, and he could sense a certain discomfort in this visitor. While he was sure the wanderer could pick up on the sound of his every step, Oppel slowly walked towards the source of the bellow and came upon an elf sitting on the ground, staring at his sword.

The sabre was unique, nothing Astalder had ever seen duplicated before that's for sure. The blade was jagged, taking the shape of a lightning bolt, with two cut outs in the center for better maneuverability and different approaches for parrys. The bolts that stuck out all around the bottom of the blade to make the hilt were made from a material unknown to Astalder. They seemed closest to brass however they were a fairly tougher and have not yet tarnished like brass normally would. Some may say that the blade was the most beautiful part of the sword but to Astalder, the handle was. Composed of eight medallions of pure black glossy obsidian, this was where he hled the sword. The handle was where he spun, twisted, flipped, and gripped the sword all the while, never losing it's brilliant dark marble like laquer. The two lightning bolts at the end of the blade were quite peculiar as well. Ever since the sabre had transformed the bottom bolts have conducted a steady current of electricity.
Astalder closed his eyes and drew a long sigh as he heard foot steps coming. Light foot steps, as if they were trying to take good care of the ground. These however were natural, unlike clumsy human "tippy toe" steps.
Great, he thought this is just what I need right now some strand local looking for directions and probably some gold pieces... Astalder remained seated however discourteous this may look. Sitting seemed to calm his nerves and bring a bit closer to the woodlands than he previously was. He could feel the clouds breaking apart already, but this was not neccesarily something Astalder was comfortable with. He was trained very high in the rank of the Storm Kindler prestige but he has not yet mastered it. He's yet to call upon a Sandstorm, and myth has it a master of Storm Kindling can shape the storm how they see fit. Well too ease his slight discomfort Astalder raised his hair using his Storm Kindler abilities. Astalder's hair blew wildly behind him as if gale force winds were ripping through the trees, however, the only wind to actually be felt was a soft breeze barely enough to shuffle a leaf. Perhaps this bizarre happening would scare off the begger as well.
"A storm could hit at any second, what are you doing out here away from proper protection?" he asked in a collected voice. His eyes flickered open. The iris and pupil were non existant and his eyes were completely the same color flashing like lightning. Astalder felt another presence other than the intruder nearby, something smaller than a person, something more familiar...

Watching from the shadows just a matter of paces away from the seated elf, Oppel stood and watched as the elf provided insight into the fact that he most certainly was trained in the ways of magic. To have one's hair blow so chaotically with no hint of of a wind capable of doing so could only mean that magic was involved. Oppel felt relief in the greeting of one capable of more than stumbling drunk through the wood, seemingly wise and trained, as Oppel attempted to read from his smug remarks. Oppel watched as the elf spoke of a sudden storm, and changed his eyes to look as though they belonged to a demon ghast, bright and vivid with no sign of an iris or pupil. Oppel smirked in contentment, and felt it was appropriate to demonstrate some of his own abilities. Oppel was a trained and renown Shadowdancer, having once been the training master that taught others to be capable of manipulating both themselves and the world of shadows. Oppel looked around and noted that there were few spots in this very covered area that were lit well enough to distinguish themselves from the predominant shadows that surrounded the area. Oppel glanced around and selected a large tree directly ahead of the elf on the ground. He shut his eyes and vanished into the darkness of the shade, only to reappear a moment later kneeling in a shadow on a larger branch in the tree. Oppel revealed enough of his face that looked as though a sliver of light cut across his face to reveal the bottom of his face, stretching from the bridge of his nose to the bottom of his chin and spoke,

"When I am within the walls of Norwood," he went on in an arrogant tone, "the element of air is the least of my worries."

With that, Oppel stood from his kneeling position and turned to face towards the end of the thick branch he stood upon. He slowly began to walk forward, and as he did so, Oppel used his magic to control plants and bent the branch. In doing so, the branch slowly curved towards the elf on the ground and stopped as Oppel reached the spot in which the branch would become to thin for even his own light weight. He stood, arms crossed and looked directly at the elf on the ground. His face now fully illuminated by the available light he spoke,

"What brings you to Norwood?"

Astalder continued to watch his blade, the faint aura of electricity spat bolts from top to bottom and vice versa and as all was silent you could hear a low grumble caused by the slight vibrations of the blade. Something beyond the blade caught his eye. Off in the distance in a large tree not too far from where a sat he saw the faint silhouette of a man. A single ray of light cut across the bottom half of his face. As he spoke, Astalder quirked an eyebrow in faint amusement. The man seemed to have a bit of a sense of humor himself. Astalder let his hair rest and flickered his eyes back to normal. He slowly stood up and looked behind him. Nothing but trees and land stared back at him. He gave a quite chuckle. Perhaps this man was not a simpleton after all, perhaps he was some one that should be more openly investigated. Astalder turned back around to face the man. He was now controlling the brand to act as an inclined place to lead him down to where Astalder stood. He stared at him with a mix of respect and mild amusement. Astalder was definitely happy the man was not a bumbling drunk looking for money or a fight... or both. On the flip side Astalder had seen flashier tricks in his day, this man would have to step it up a notch if he was-but wait...
As the man completely revealed his face to Astalder and asked him a question something struck a chord. Astalder's expression soon changed to complete concentration. He again quirked an eyebrow and squinted at the man. Could the elf he was staring possibly be the same one he'd fought side by side with in Taras? Astalder's eye's widened and he immediately dipped into a low bow for if this was elf was who he thought he was, it was the God of Earth. Ignoring his question completely Astalder picked his head up and answered with,
"Oppel?" and remembering what little manners he had put his head down again and kept his bow.

Oppel watched in amusement as the elf before him took a bow, immediately reminding Oppel of the days so long ago in which everyone he came across did the same. As respectful as a bow was, he had never demanded it, as Oppel desired to feel equal with the people who shared the land. But still, it had been so long since someone had bowed for him, that Oppel decided to read his mind to find out why he had done so. It was hard to believe that people in the land could mistake him for still being the immortal he once was. Using his telepathy spell, Oppel quickly dived into the most present thoughts of the elf. He saw the elf's thoughts as though they were his own, and within an instant Oppel knew that this elf had interacted with him several years ago when he was a God. Oppel wanted to confirm the identity of the elf himself, for it was difficult to remember every interaction from years back. Remembering the elf's thoughts of him fighting alongside Oppel some years back, he decided to look further back into that. Using greater divination, Oppel quickly overlooked some years of the elf's past to come to the one event where he did, in fact, see a mildly younger Oppel fighting alongside the elf who now stood in front of him. This was a glorious moment for Oppel, for many of the companions he had met from years ago had either been slain or disappeared from Imythess altogether. A refreshing, familiar face such as Astalder's was a sure light on Oppel's current solitude.

He decided this not be the best time to verbally admit that he was no longer an immortal, and that that was more of a conversation best had over ale at an Inn. It was perhaps one of Oppel's longest stories, and not one that he preferred to shorten into a few mere sentences. Oppel gave a good smile to Astalder, still kneeling on the ground, but wished he would stand.

"Yes, it is Oppel. Astalder, is it? Much has changed since we fought together all those years ago." Oppel was caught up in the excitement of meeting someone he knew, that he wished the elf would stand so he could embrace him properly.

Then, as if from nowhere, the howling of a wolf could be heard in the distance. It was not the simple long howl of a regular wolf, but it was one long note followed by three shorter howls. This was a sign that it was another of Oppel's companions, Laer, who was giving some sort of signal. A sudden breeze picked up and beyond Astalder in the brush, the snapping of trees and other plants simultaneously meant that, in combination with Laer's signal, something was not right. Even darker clouds blew over the area, this time the clouds were as black as the night themselves. Oppel looked up at the sky and spoke,

"My friend, all is not right in Norwood."

Astalder stayed in his state of vulnerability for awhile feeling as though he had just previously challenged the god himself. He awaited for Oppel to answer, and hopefully recognize him. During the pause Astalder felt a sight tingle in his head, like the hairs on his head were standing up. Astalder recognized this sensation, for it was the same as when he used his spell Telepathy, but at the moment Astalder was not using this spell. The only explanation to this was that Oppel was the one using Telepathy on Astalder possibly to get a better idea what Astalder was doing here since he never did answer the question. Then a less familiar rush passed over him. Astalder's whole body felt slightly younger and less experienced for a moment. Astalder felt as though his wings were gone, he could no longer feel the connection of the wings and also missed the connection he had with the weather. Sudden short flashes of a battle in a city passed through his mind. The last image he saw lingered for a moment longer than the rest, and it was Oppel's face smiling back at his, theirs eye locked perfectly for they were very close in height, if not exactly the same in height.
Astalder woke from his day dream to Oppel confirming his identity and, as he hoped, recognizing Astalder and remembering his name. Astalder lifted himself from his bow with a warm grin on his face.
"Indeed sir," he said cooly and looked behind him "I suppose you can say I've earned my wings." He joked, sarcastically indicating that nothing else had changed. Astalder wanted to go on and ask Oppel how everything was but a lonely cry from a wolf stabbed his train of thought. Normally Astalder would ignore such a common sound but this long owl followed by three short howls seemed to strike a nerve deep in his heart. Astalder looked around for he felt something was not right. A loud crunch rang within Astalder's tall ears but he could not spot what had caused the trees and branches to snap so violently. Astalder grabbed his blade from the ground and wiped the dirt off the tip and as Oppel spoke Astalder turned to face him and mimic the elf looking up at the sky.
"I'm not doing that," Astalder replied although he was sure Oppel knew that by the way he informed Astalder that something was off "however, I hope you don't mind if I change it..." and without waiting for an okay he began making intricate patterns in the air with his sword. The air around them chilled to a temperature well below what was common in Norwood this time of year and blotches of his own sleet storm appeared randomly speckling the black clouds above. Soon the whole sky was a giant white cloud. With one final effort, Astalder struggled pushing upwards toward the sky as if he'd just lifted a large boulder. This was to prevent the sleet from falling just yet.
Suddenly a flash of silver zipped across his face. Astalder took a defensive stance and searched the perimeter for the source, peeking to see if anything was behind Oppel. Astalder let his guard down and raised an eyebrow to his friend when he felt something brush against the back of his neck. Astalder turned around as quick as possible and forced a fatal slash, only to it nothing but a falling leaf, which respectfully split in two.
"What the-" before he could finish his sentence he felt something small but surprisingly powerful push against his right jaw bone. Astalder's face actually began to turn to the left until the force gave up and revealed it self.
"My Fae horse!" Astalder laughed as he licked his face playfully. For a few seconds Astalder forgot about the impending danger and admired the beautiful little creature. "Haha, I think he wants a name." Astalder admitted to Oppel a bit guiltily. A second loud crunch brought Astalder back to reality and he took a defensive stance again. "Listen boy you need to leave at once, fly to to the Village of Kellen, I'll meet you there tomorrow." and Astalder gave the small Fae a kiss and let him go, however, instead of flying in the direction of Kellen the Fae proceed to prance about his shoulder. Astalder sighed looking at Oppel hoping he was good with animals.

Oppel watched as Astalder utilized some of his magical ability, leaving the surrounding area to be very frigid. It was more cold than the coldest of nights during this part of the year, and the plants seemed to not take to kindly to this temperature. Oppel felt as many leaves around him hardened to retain their inner-warmth. Still, the black clouds overhead had yet to prove to be much of a storm, but Oppel could not guarantee that that was not the work of Astalder's magic.

Oppel turned his head back down towards Astalder when he sensed the little creature that had yet to be tamed, or so it seemed. The fae horse ignored Astalder's orders, and instead of fleeing it stood by him. Oppel was not quick to admit that the fae horse had problems of disobedience, as Oppel knew full well that his own animal companions would disobey his orders if they knew it was to Oppel's benefit. Perhaps the fae horse had the same sort of desire to be alongside Astalder. Upon Astalder's statement of naming the fae horse, Oppel gave a slight smirk. It was true that in giving an animal companion a name, it was as if the master were solidifying the bond between himself and the creature. A name made the companion the master's possession, or friend depending on the person. Oppel felt that Astalder would need to give the fae horse a name, but from the sight of his friend's companion, Oppel knew that a bond of companionship already existed. Oppel merely nodded in his response.

In the distance Oppel heard Laer's howls once more.

"Those are the cries of my friend Laer. A howl such as the one we're hearing means to warn of impending danger. We should be careful, but I must go see what it is that is the matter." With that, Oppel began to walk by Astalder in the direction of Laer's howl. As he reached the point of the small clearing in which they were standing where the trees grew nearer and thicker, he turned to Astalder and spoke,

"Forgive me for being so abrupt, but I must tend to-" he was interrupted by a noise so terrible, a cry one would expect from a terribly injured canine. Oppel shot his head in the direction of the cry with a look of anguish as the cry seemed to linger in the air and he whispered under his breath,"Laer..." and began to run hastily in the direction of the cries.

After running only a short distance, Oppel stopped in his tracks. His eyes caught the glance of one of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was tall and slim with flowing brown hair and the most piercing green eyes that could be cherished from such a distance away. Oppel slipped into a trance and began to walk aimlessly and slowly towards the woman, whose beauty could exist only in a trance-like state that hid her dark green skin and velvety black wings. The succubus seemed to have a strong grasp on Oppel, calling him to her with smooth movements and playful charm, and making him forget entirely about Laer. Behind her on either side stood two goblins, armed in full-body armour and a sword and shield. But neither goblins or Succubus could explain for the sound of snapping trees.

"Okay okay, we need to make this quick though." Astalder pondered for a bit thinking of a suitable name for the little Fae. "I know! How about Thorpe?" the Fae horse jumped from his shoulder and gave him a swift kick to the face with his hind legs. "OW!" Astalder yelped as he rubbed his cheek "Gracious you pack quite a punch for such a small little guy." Astalder thought about what he'd just said and merely translated it. "Alright how about Mar Thysi? Thysi for short, does that sound good?" In Astalder's native tongue Mar Thysi translated to 'Small Force' in the common tongue. The little horse gave an approving whinny and nuzzled Astalder's neck. "Haha yes I like that name too." Astalder looked around for a bit and wasn't too comfortable with what he was about to say, but after all he had been on vacation far away from this place and hadn't spent a lot of time with his newly discovered Fae horse. "I suppose you can come with me. You just promise me you won't even think about attacking anything, we understood?" Thysi nodded vigorously and flew about Astalder's dome. Oh dear, what have I just done... Astalder thought.
A second howl could be heard once again in the distance. This once again brought Astalder back to the reality of the situation he and Oppel were in. Astalder nodded as Oppel identified the cry as his own wolf, Lair or Layr... Or was it Laer? The matter of it's name was not the problem, the real problem was the trouble that the wolf might be in as well as these two lone elves. Astalder whistled twice, signaling Thysi to stay close to him, however the fae was not properly trained yet and didn't quite get the gist as he continued to buzz around Astalder and Oppel's head.
Oppel stopped and Astalder took a few more steps before turning and facing his friend. Oppel began to say his good-bye before a piercing note made Astalder flinch in discomfort. He hadn't heard such a terrible noise in a long time and now he knew nothing good could come out of this situation. Before Astalder had time to suggest it might be a trap Oppel muttered something and speed off.
"Oppel! Wait!" but it was too late, Oppel seemed to move faster than Astalder could, in the direction of the cry. Astalder groaned and ordered Thysi to move out. Astalder leapt high into the air flapping his wide Winter Wings. He closed his eyes and used his listening senses to find where Oppel was. He heard very light but quick foot steps, two feet, nothing like any other two-legged animal he'd recognized before. Hoping it was Oppel he soared in the direction of the footsteps.
As the footsteps got louder, Astalder and Thysi lowered themselves to the point where they could brush the tips of the trees. About 100 paces ahead of him he saw faint flashes of the sprinting elf, however, looking down he didn't notice the magic missile heading straight for him. The bolt slammed into his left shoulder and he went down hard hitting a tree before the ground accepted him.
Astalder was not knocked out by the blow and fall, but was fairly bruised. He attempted to stand but immediately fell on his hind quarters. Thysi licked his shoulder which had been mildly scorched from the attack. Astalder shook his head and addressed the problems at stake. After retrieving his sword, he broke a branch that he knew was very flexible and stripped it until he was left with a very thin and durable piece of bark. He looked around and found a small growth of aloe vera near by. He plucked eight decent sized leaves and squeezed four of them dry on his wound. He then tied the other four tightly onto his shoulder with the stripped bar, still leaving room for a significant range of motion. Now he had to find Oppel...
Astalder sprinted as fast as he could in the direction he last remembered seeing Oppel head. A strange chant grew louder and louder as he ran. Hoping Oppel was near by, he closed in on the monotonous chanting. There was a small open that Astalder approached where he could see the outline of four figures. He ran behind a large tree that was closest to the outskirts of the clearing and peaked around. What he made out shocked him. Astalder saw two fully armor clad guards behind a demonic looking woman. Her skin was tinted a deep green, two wickedly twisted horns rested atop her slightly pointed head, and she had a wingspan that was longer than Astalder's. However large the demon was, perhaps six feet and five inches, she could not have been held accountable for the odd crunching. The important thing was that whatever was making the loud crunches was not around... He hoped. Astalder looked on at the horrific sight that laid before him. It wasn't the guards and the succubus that frightened Astalder as much as the fact that Oppel was walking straight for them in a drunken fashion. He couldn't possibly be himself now, Astalder had to act.
Astalder snapped his fingers and a thick white fog filled the distance between Oppel and the succubus. Using all his Elven capabilities and the Haste spell he possessed, and drawing his wings upright and outward to make him more aerodynamic, Astalder charged Oppel. He tackled the Elf, his right shoulder making solid contact with Oppel's right bicep. He can only hope that the evil trio had no idea where the two Elves landed as they tumbled out of the clearing into a lush thicket of bushes. Astalder called upon a small small portion of lighting to his right hand and pressed it upon Oppel's left breast, giving him a slight jolt, hopefully shaking him of his trance.
"The hell is wrong with you?!" he whispered violently to the Elf. "Are you out of you're damn mind? That demon was getting ready to have lunch, and you were her prime choice!" Thysi buzzed down and began licking Oppel's cheek and pushing against his cheek gently. It appeared he'd taken a liking to Oppel quite easily. Astalder sighed and lifted his head from the ground. His eyes widened in shear horror. He grabbed Oppels's face and turned it towards the viciously injured wolf that lay beside them...

Oppel had felt as one would feel if shaken violently while sleeping to wake them from their dreams and bring them back to reality. Oppel began to slip back to normality upon contact with Astalder's shoulder, and his mind was half-awake as he plummeted to the ground. He felt in limbo, the wonderful feeling of being caught between dreams and being awake. He felt totally at peace until a slight jolt to his chest acted has the end of a dream, forcing him back to the current situation. Oppel stared at Astalder who now lay next to him in some brush, whose choice of words made Oppel recognize that he had done something quite odd. As this was occuring the small fae horse was licking at his face and Oppel quenched his eyes and grunted slightly to signal that this was not the time for play. Oppel attempted to respond to Astalder's questions but before he could do so Astalder had grabbed onto his face and turned it to the side to reveal one of the more horrid sights he had seen in years.

Oppel's eyes widened in horror and he gulped profusely as if to swallow his emotions. There, looking as if it were near dead was Laer, lying on his side in a puddle of blood. Oppel pushed off the ground and scrambled to his knees before quickly crawling over to the wolf and grabbing onto his fur. He put his head down towards the wolf who began to growl with what seemed to be some of his last breaths, almost as if he were telling Oppel not to let his guard down. Oppel couldn't help to be with Laer though, they had been a cohesive unit for years, and there was no end to their companionship that Oppel could imagine, as much as it was destined to occur. Oppel stroked the wolf from it's head down to its back repetitively in silence, not knowing at all what to say. He glanced down to Laer's stomach where a large gash in the flesh made it a miracle that the wolf was still alive. Still, the wound bled profusely as Oppel's eyes and mouth quivered. Oppel shed a tear, the first he had shed in years. It was so unlike Oppel to appear as fragile as he did in that moment. Never would he dream to let down his guard and appear weak, but the imminent death of his beloved friend tore down his walls like he could never have imagined. To have Astalder bear witness to this sight was forbidden by Oppel's code of conduct, but everyone had their weaknesses.

Oppel played the possibilities through his minds. Did he know a spell that could cure such a terrible wound? Was it possible that his knowledge of nature would allow him to repair such a horrid gash? Was it possible to save his friends life or was all hope lost? Oppel stared over at Astalder, with perhaps the biggest look of desperation his face had aver beheld.

"What can I do?" Oppel had never really relied on anyone else, but since losing his divine powers he could not guarantee that he could save his friend's life. For the first time in many, many years, Oppel felt lost, discourage, and retained no hope.

Oppel could hear grunts and iron-clad footsteps behind him, but he gave these noises no attention. He stared back down at Laer and continued to stroke the wolf as he had before. A moment or so later, he felt the cold blade of a dagger move beside him and then be pressed against the front of his neck. This sudden movement shocked Oppel, as he did not feel the presence of anyone directly behind him. Oppel looked down at the blade and saw a female hand, but it was a hideous shade of green. He looked back at Laer and spoke out loud,

"What is it you want?"

Thysi wandered off for a bit into a a small berry bush, possibly looking for some lunch himself. Oh sure, now he listens... the thought in the back of his mind. For now his concentration was fixed on the fatally wounded wolf Oppel called Laer. It was truly an act of the supernatural the wolf was still alive. His eyes were glossy and a deep slice ran through his stomach that bleed out into the remarkable pool of blood Laer was already in. The wolf's breathing was very slow, slower than any wolf he'd ever come across. Astalder waited for Oppel to use his divine powers of nature to heal Laer, but nothing of the sort occurred. Instead, Oppel turned to him and said "What can I do." and just then something seemed to click in Astalder's mind. A god would not be so easily taken over... A god would not seem this vulnerable, in fact a god could repair this mess, and smite the attackers before I could blink an eye... Perhaps he was not a member of the immortals anymore... Astalder saw a faint shiny streak that ran down Oppel's face and that was enough to sell him. They needed to act now if Laer was to have a chance.
"Pardon my rudeness friend but simply looking at him will not heal the wounds. We need to do whatever we can to stop this bleeding." and Astalder began removing his outer tunic. He placed it over the gash and applied pressure. He heard the sound of clattering metal get louder and thought Should have made that fog thicker... They weren't important yet though, it's not as if they were upon them. "If you now any spell, any healing spell at all, or if you know of any healing elements that grow here will definitely help his condition. Once his internal damage is patched I could stitch him up. Granted he might not be able to function as easily as he used to, but I'm sure there is some magic for that out there somewhere. Not to mention he'll also be ali-mmmmphmmmrrph!" Astalder was cut short as a slender hand crept over his mouth and the point of a blade settled on his temple. Astalder's eyes widened in rage as he considered throwing a tantrum, but if he did he was sure the blade at his one temple would find his opposite temple easily. He then considered using one of his spells, Call Lightning, to the Goblin behind him, but if he did manage to kill the Goblin, then he was risking Oppel's life. Astalder accepted this tragic turn of events as he was violently lifted on his feet.
"What is it you want?" Astalder heard from Oppel. "Oh no no no my dear, it's not what I want. It's not what I want at all, it's what my master wants. You see my master cannot enjoy his dinner without the sound of agony and pain in the air. So you see one of you will be dinner, and the other..." she paused and looked over to Astalder "Planted on a spike!" and her and the two Goblins erupted with laughter, although the Goblins sounded more like snorts and grunts. Astalder twitched as the grotesquely warted hands slid off his mouth and began to bound his hands. Oppel and Astalder were then led to their doom by the Demonic woman with blades at their throats. Astalder turned around to see Thysi appear out of the bushes, his mouth blue from berries. They were already walking so he couldn't grab the grab the Fae to tell him he needed to find help. He merely looked at the Fae, his eyes saying Stay away! Don't follow us! Thysi jumped in the air and flapped his little wings. Astalder tried telepathically communicating with his Fae and when all hope seemed lost, Thysi descended to the ground and turned to Laer. A silver aura appeared around Thysi, and then around Laer. Astalder's eyes looked on in curiosity as a single strand of silver light connected the two. Immediately Astalder noticed his blood-soaked tunic take on it's original color and become less... blood-soaked!

At the moment Oppel had various thoughts and feelings running through his mind. Despair, anger, embarrassment... he felt it all. The fact that he had been relinquished of his divine abilities left him at a loss, and made the situation all the more worse. Oppel could not remember the last time that he had asked for another's help, and asking Astalder for his aid seemed to prove to Oppel just how vulnerable his well-being now was. The image of Laer's bloody body was enough to diminish the mighty walls the Oppel had constructed to strengthen his persona, and he felt so weak that he barely resisted being bound and dragged away. He just stared strongly and without blinking at his oldest companion, who Oppel could only imagine would be dead in avery short manner of time.

To think that this cooperation of hideous, evil creatures had attacked him so over a matter of such foolishness was all the more upsetting. These creatures laughed at his turmoil as if it were all a joke, that fed her lust for blood and despair. Caught in a state of thought between seeking vengeance on this creatures and escaping to help Laer, Oppel was at a loss for what to do. As he was being dragged, the succubus who was walking alongside the goblins had taken some long piece of fabric and tied it around Oppel's mouth and nose, preventing him from breathing properly. From the size of the fabric Oppel could have imagine that the fabric could have been tied easily around his entire face, but the succubus soon explained why she had chosen not to cover his eyes,

"I want you to see the thing die." Oppel shook in an attempt to break loose, but to no such success. He then turned to look at Astalder who was very close, thinking of an apology for bringing him into such a mess, without actually being able to voice his thoughts.

It was then that Oppel noticed Astalder staring attentively back at the spot they had been in. Oppel turned his head back, only to see the fae horse performing some sort of magic on Laer. Oppel watched closely at the brilliant silver that surrounded the fae horse and Laer, and as a silver strand soon connected them both to each other. As if the fae was some brilliant cleric, the blood on the tunic that held together Laer's wound began to disappear. Oppel could not believe that the fae horse had such abilities, but was thankful that it could do something for Laer. Oppel shook his head violently, seemingly bringing him back into a state of normality, where he was not overcome with grief and began to think more practically. He searched through his mind for a plan of action, but fell short several times before he remembered something. He had learned a spell many years ago after the death of Malorn, in his grief back then. It was perhaps the darkest spell Oppel knew, relying on the darkness itself for its powers. It was ancient arcana, now unavailable to the mages and as far as Oppel knew, even the most powerful, new necromancers. The spell was called gaseous form. Oppel knew that a succubus would have the ability to disspell such a dark ability, but he would only need to rely on it for a moment. Still Oppel thought of a distraction he could use, and settled on another spell quickly. Oppel shut his eyes and a small glowing orb formed in front of his eyes as he thought of an incantation inside his head. The orb grew slowly but was still very small, and Oppel spoke the last word of the incantation in haste which sent the orb fly around him and in front of the goblins before exploding into a great scene of light that blinded the area. This was the magnificence of flashburst. Oppel his head back and stared up into the darkened sky, muttered a dark elvish phrase that made Oppel dissipate in fog-like particles, that rose into the air, looking like a small, black cloud lingering in the area. The cloud that was Oppel moved several feet away in the air and plummeted towards the ground, rebuilding Oppel's body as it did so. Remember that he had dropped his staff, Oppel removed his dagger from it's sheath tied around his thigh, waiting for the light to completely wear off.

[EDIT - OOC: I was browsing the shops and noticed that gaseous form had been transferred to the aire magic shop instead of being removed altogether... but I think as far as this roleplay is concerned it would be okay to consider it obsolete magic]

Astalder turned back around thanking the gods his Fae came in handy for more than a few laughs for once. As he and Oppel closed in on where the demon's master awaited the sky darkened and the air thickened. No longer were the clouds white, promising that of an icy storm. Instead the clouds regained there black color they had a few moments ago. The air no longer had the comfortable cold bite either, instead it was smoggy. Astalder was sure he could cut through it with his blade, given the chance. But that was the problem at stake now. His hands were bound tight behind him and his mouth was covered. Not that this mattered much for he needn't call for help, and he'd been blessed with the feat Silent Spell since birth. Astlader did not know of any spells that he could use to escape from this glitch in the system. Haste would not be quick enough to escape the sword at his throat, Call Lightning would be to noticeable plus his hands were bound, Telepathy wouldn't do a thing, and he didn't seem to have a proper handle on his Storm Kindling abilities at the moment. Perhaps he could turn around and flap his wings to knock over the goblin, then fly away... But that would leave Oppel to himself and Astalder couldn't risk not being able to find him.
Time was running thin for the two Elves, so Astalder looked over to Oppel hoping he could communicate with his eyes. As he did this he saw Oppel's eyes were closed and a small orb of light circled his skull. What the hell could that thing be?... but before Astalder could start guessing Oppel spoke something too muffled for Astalder to understand thanks to the crafty work of the Goblins. The orb flew around his head but Astalder couldn't keep up to see where it went. A flash of pure white light burned into Astalder's eyes and he heard cries from the two goblins. Astalder felt the Goblin behind him stumble and his blade cut into the side of his neck before Astalder heard it clang on the ground. He screamed in pain as he felt warm blood slowly drip down his new wound. Astalder looked around furiously but it was in vain. His hands were still clasped and all he could see was a white landscape.
"Find them you fools!" hissed the succubus. Astalder turned in the direction of the voice and saw a dark vortex beginning to form, seemingly sucking the light into it. Still blinded Astalder leapt into the air to begin his escape, only to come in contact with what felt like a very thick branch. Today is not my day... he thought as his knees thumped to the ground. He felt fresh blood now begin to exit from the new cut on top of his head. In a few seconds the light completely vanished and Astalder could see once more, but what he saw did not thrill him. The two Goblins had fallen over one another and were rubbing their eyes to adjust to the normal state of the light, the Demon had a menacing looking glaive pointed at Astalder who was only about twenty to thirty paces away, and Oppel was no where in sight. The Goblins got up and readied themselves, swords drawn as they listened to the succubus bark "I like your friend, Elf... Fleeing and leaving you for dead." Astalder payed no attention to this remark for he considered leaving Oppel.
Astalder struggled with the material that immobilized his arms. He tryed using shear strength to tear the fabric but it was no use, it felt stronger than silk. Astalder looked on as the three prepared to charge the Elf. Running away wouldn't help anything, he was sure the succubus would catch up to him, and she was the only real threat. He tried to devise a plan that could somehow trick one of them into cutting him loose during the charge, but it was difficult making a plan off of a race so unpredictable and slow. Astalder took a deep breath and braced himself, blood still flowing from both wounds. Making the first move, Astalder let out a frustrated yell and began at the foes in front of him, letting instinct take over.

((OOC: No problem, sorry for the long wait. I hit a bit of a block for awhile))