OOG: Well, with waffle temporarily derailed, I think we can assume that there is no further interruptions before the party meets up again in the shelter of Ixeldor's illusion.


IG: Vera and Ixeldor watched anxiously as the grim-faced sortie group filed quietly into the sheltered campsite, one member down. The cleric noted Aden's place on Thrain's horse and her face grew harsh with concern.

"Something went wrong!" she exclaimed. "What happened? Where's Thrain?"

"He's all abducted too. Guess some ranger guy snatched him." Tawna swings off her horse and frowns, brushing some of the dust from Sunshine's coat absently. "We've got to go get him, then we can go get the girl."

She sighs, then looks at the spellcasters. "Don't suppose either of you have some magic to make you into trackers?"

"I can scry on him as long as whoever took him isn't a powerfull enough mage to block me. But it will take some time...."

Ixeldor seems to be lost in thought for a few moments.

"The ranger? What he as magicly equipped as those soliders we fought before?"

When Ixeldor paused for thought, Sister Vera added, "I fear I did not anticipate this occurrence. My devotions were all focused on confronting the mage who abducted the girl. That, I am prepared for. But finding yet another missing companion is for now beyond me."

"I think he used an invisibility spell to slip away from me, because he grabbed Thrain and ran without me noticing. Other than that, I can't say. Didn't seem the studious type though, if you get my meaning." Aden doesn't seemed very worried about Thrain, but whether it's because he trusts in the mage's skills or just doesn't care is still up for interpretation. "So, you gonna start scrying, or are we going to wait for our friend to finish torturing Thrain out in the woods first?"

"Oh, he won't stop on the road to commit torture," Vera replied with some assurance. "He's a hound, and will be bringing the prize back to his master to play with. What's more, if he stops, he greatly increases the chance that we can thwart him. I doubt Thrain is in any immediate danger.

"So, the ranger escaped, then. What of the rest of the trackers? Are they dead, retreated? Should we expect a second attack from them?"

Ixeldor sighs at Thrains comment.
"I'll get started...."

The mage walks over to his pack and start looking though the contents, trying to find his scrying mirror.

An arrow slices through the air, burying itself in a tree just above where Ixeldor's head had been.

Having dismounted and taken off his helmet, Eric answers Vera, "Two are dead. Saw the tracker but there was no sign of the fourth."

Slowly, he peels the strip of cloth from his neck. It's matted in blood and he can tell the wound has yet to clot. Replacing the filthy cloth, he sets about looking for a cleaner alternative for the moment.

Absently, he jerks the arrow out of his chest plate. Damn... that bow must have had quite a draw to punch right through his armor like that. He grimaced. It would probably be a while before he could get it fixed.
His thoughts are interuppted by the familiar sound...

Thunk!

Eric moves instinctively towards Tawna as his eyes search for the enemy.

"Well, that answers that!" the cleric exclaimed as she took cover next to Eric. Almost absently, she reached out and laid a hand over his wound, muttering, "The grace of Selûne be on you."

[Cure Light Wounds--Eric recovers 8 hit points.]

"Who plans to have the honor of neutralizing our opponent? My goddess stands ready to lend her aid."

Ixeldor leaps behind one of the real tress in the clearing and mentall dispells the illusion so that they can see their attacker more clearly, little point in maintaing it when their cover is blown.

Safe, for now, the mage puts on a burst of speed and pours his magic onto the battlefield as quickly as he can. With his first hurried spell, he reaches into the powerfull and strange realms of illusion magic and summons the power of Haste on Sister Vera. As she picks up a slight shimmering green aura, he summons a second spell, this one invoking much more powerfull and dark magics.

"Mortal fledgling......" The quietly muttered but still audable spell begins.
"Feel my magic and open your mind. Let my thoughts override yours. Let my will dominate your actions. Let it be that when I command, you obe...."

And with that, the mage uncerimoneously blacked out and slumped over against the tree.

This is one of those things they don't tell you about in Wizary College.

Thought the squirrel.

Oh well.....might as well use the situation as best I can.

Knowing that whoever shot the arrow must be shielded from magical detection, the squirrel lept in the direction the arrow came up, hopeing to locate the assasilant visually.[/i]

(Argh, the DM be posting but this thread remains dead)

(Tawna and Aden still need to react, in any event. Which is sad cause things were getting interesting again...)

Ixeldor is having a great deal of difficulty mastering the different body shape and sensory apparatus of the squirrel. Such knowledge is partly ingrained in the magic of a polymorph spell, but possesion magic offers no such benefits. However, through the primal, irresistable draw to stuff his cheeks with seeds, Ixeldor does hear something away to the south west of the clearing. His mind screams at him to stop moving and let his fur blend in. Mortal terror seeps back along the link, threatening to overwhelm Ixeldor.