[Ransom]

Ransom ducked and gripped his poleax in both hands as magefire shot from Elanor’s hand. He had been on the receiving end of magefire far too many times for comfort, and he did not intend to be caught unprepared. But Elanor’s aim was true, and Mithwyn’s cloth gag disappeared into a cloud of multicolor smoke. He noticed that she had begun to chant, and recognized the mantra of control. Mental avenues to his head slammed shut in an instance, a skill honed to perfection by the Inquisition’s resident witch. He could still remember the headaches he defenses failed to her subtle and not-so-subtle spells.

Truly, Elanor’s casting skills were excellent. Mithwyn’s mind seemed to offer no resistance, and what could be best described as a bitter mental aftertaste splashed against his will.

================================================== =======

Perhaps this Calixto was the elvish heretic I heard about. Ransom mused, But at this rate we’ll be long dead before we reach him

They had walked for many hours, fighting off an almost endless stream of seemingly mindless orcs. Ransom was beginning to grow hungry and thirsty. Truly a flaw of the body, but the body was the divine gift of the One. Perhaps now was the time to think of another plan.

“Ladies, I do believe something here is not right. Our enemies are numberless and almost mindless, and the halls are just as numberless. We seem to be going in circles. Perhaps we should reconsider our current course, and seek another way to our goal?"

[ October 08, 2002: Message edited by: Ransom ]