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* Temire is heading to Dorland's residence to start her duties as Dorland's bodyguard when she first notices the orcs in the streets. Unfortunately the orcs notice her as well, a pair of them charging up the street at her, both swinging maces. * Temire draws her rapier, running one orc through as she sidesteps the other's swing. <Temire> ::A kick to the back of the knee drops the second orc who stays down after being hit in the head by Temire's mace.:: * Temire retrieves her rapier and starts running up the street towards Dorland's house, avoiding crowds and orcs as best she can, striking out at the occasional orc as she runs past. <Temire> ::As Temire approaches a crossroads she discovers a group of orcs who have set up a check point. Skidding to a halt near the group she drops her mace and thrusts her rapier into the ground to free her hands as she begins casting a spell.:: <Temire> ::The commander of the orcs grunts at his men and several rush Temire only to fall to the ground clutching their faces as Temire sweeps the crossroad with a fan of white flames.:: * Temire grabs her sword and kicks her mace up into her hand, charging the remaining orcs. * Temire again runs the first orc to reach her through, dropping below a second orc's swing as she spins on one foot, breaking the second orc's knee with her mace. <Temire> ::The third charging orc swings his sword at Temire, only to have Temire deflect the blow with her forearm bracer.:: * Temire turns on the third orc, swinging with her mace, but he steps out of reach, swinging at her again. * Temire shifts her grip on her mace, blocking the new swing with the hilt of the mace while drawing a shiv with her other hand. She shoves the shiv into the orc's throat. <Temire> ::The orc commander assumes a ready stance facing Temire. He wields a warhammer and is wearing plate mail.:: * Temire shifts her mace to her right hand and begins circling the orc warily. * Temire cups her left hand, a light beginning to form in it. At the sight of the apparent spell, the orc charges. * Temire sidesteps the orc, sweeping his legs as he passes, the light vanishing from her hand. <Temire> ::The orc rolls onto his back as Temire drops on top of him, each catching the other's weapon in their off hand.:: <Temire> ::The orc attempts to roll on top of Temire, the two rolling until they hit a wall, with the orc on top.:: * Temire locks eyes with the orc as he tries to free a weapon from Temire's grasp. A moment later he releases both weapons, clutching his eyes and screaming. * Temire takes the opportunity to sandwich his skull between the hammer and the mace before rolling him off of her. * Temire retrieves her rapier and once more resumes her charge to Dorland's home. <Dorland> ::The War Wizard Dorland's residence is-- or perhaps *was*-- an imposing stone mansion on the corner of a beautiful, tree-lined, up-scale residential avenue a block north of the King's Tower.:: <Dorland> ::The building has undergone a bit of... forced remodelling. At least half of the once-stately structure has become a smoking pile of granite. Two trees in the street outside, flanking the mangled gate, are on fire. Dead orcs litter the grounds-- some in several smoldering pieces. Broken arrows and scaling ladders lie abandoned on a half-melted pile of ice shards, and the once-perfect green lawn is pocked by smoking, stinking craters.:: <Dorland> ::Shouts and the occasional loud thump issue from one still-standing portion of the ruined house, but for the amount of damage done, the impromptu battlefield is ominously quiet:: * Temire surveys the remains of the structure from around a corner, looking for any possible access to the upper stories of the building. <Dorland> ::One entire side of the house has been blown out, and the pile of glass-littered rubble that remains looks as though it might provide shaky access to the second floor, for someone nimble, quick-footed, and foolish enough to climb it. The orcs seem to be concentrated on the other side of the building, from the noise.:: * Temire puts her rapier and mace away and races up the shaky slope, seeming to shift from running to jumping to climbing as necessary until she finally reaches the remains of the second floor. * Temire draws her rapier once more and works her way silently towards the back of the house, looking for Dorland or any other survivors. <Dorland> ::Temire finds herself in a grand, walnut-panelled dining room. It would be quite impressive if the crystal chandelier weren't lying shattered on the table atop a weakly struggling orc, and if the table were whole rather than looking like a giant had been very, very displeased with the soup course. The door to the hall is open and the hall leads back to a wider, purple-carpeted balcony overlooking a grand staircase. * Temire quickly finishes off the orc before moving towards the balcony, keeping to the shadows. <Dorland> ::A liveried manservant lies sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, neck at a nonviable angle. Another servant lies dead at the end of the hall, his head smashed in. This side of the house is silent, although a repeated thumping and muffled shouts sound from downstairs somewhere, further to the left.:: * Temire looks for a way to approach the thumping sound without descending to the ground floor. <Dorland> ::The balcony on which Temire stands gives on to a main hallway extending across the width of the house. On the far end, at the other side of the staircase from where Temire hides, a narrow door is visible, ajar. However, parts of the hallway are broken away between here and there, testament to an epic battle earlier in the receiving room below.:: * Temire surveys the hall for a moment before proceeding down it, pausing before each gap to survey the floor below before leaping across. <Dorland> ::Through one gap, Temire spies the backs of a group of sweating, struggling orcs in leather armor, handling a long oak table like a battering-ram and swinging it to a count against a pair of very tall, carved doors.:: * Temire proceeds down the hall, slipping through the narrow door into what appears to be a prep room with a dumbwaiter leading into the room below. * Temire looks at the dumbwaiter for several moments, then sheaths her rapier and begins casting a spell. <Temire> Temire slowly shrinks until she's half her normal size and then climbs into the dumbwaiter and lowering herself to the room below. <Dorland> ::As Temire opens the door to the dumbwaiter onto a room on the first floor, something green flashes in front of her to bury itself, hissing and stinking, into the wall, inches away from her.:: <Dorland> ::A somewhat strangled curse sounds from far above Temire's head, followed by what sounds like a shouted warning or challenge in orcish. From her cramped vantage, chibi-Temire can see a grand ballroom, the floor empty. Partially obscured by the edge of the dumbwaiter door, she can see a man in rich robes-- black velvet trimmed in purple satin-- half-leaning against the far wall. Loud pounding echoes from the barricaded doors as the orcs on the other side try to bash their way in.:: * Temire throws herself into the corner of the dumbwaiter away from the projectile and calls out, "Master Dorland! I'm with the Dragons, I'm here to get you out!" <Dorland> Mistress Temire, I presume? ::his voice is weak, a little pained, but decidedly testy:: You're late. <Temire> Sorry, ran into some old friends on the way here. ::pauses a moment:: If I come out of here you're not going to lightning-bolt my ass or anything, are you? <Dorland> ::tone dry:: Not likely. Although if you move more than a yard into the room from your current position, you may find your point of view... suddenly and drastically overturned. ::his tone holds a touch of vindictive humor:: * Temire climbs out of the dumbwaiter, sticking close to the walls, looking at the MUCH higher ceiling from her reduced viewpoint. * Dorland coughs weakly and wheezes in a pained breath, putting a hand to his side where a black orcish arrow bristles from it. The angle of the shaft indicates that he was shot from above. * Temire looks around, "Is there another way out, or do you think you can shrink yourself down enough to fit in here? I'm afraid my mind's too frazzled to do anymore casting today." <Dorland> ::The cathedral ceiling of the ballroom has been rather bizarrely decorated with squirming, cursing orcs, tables, even a grand piano. It looks as though what was once "down" became "up" (and vice versa) for a good deal of the room.:: <Dorland> ::raising an eyebrow at her as he gets a better look at his rescuer:: Ah. Reduction. Adiethian mentioned that you'd dabbled in magery... I was momentarily worried that the Dragons were entrusting my welfare to a ten-year-old. * Dorland glances up. "I didn't dare release these and attempt escape without a way to dispatch them; they'd have caught me in minutes in my current state. You have no qualms, I hope, about dispatching an incapacitated enemy?" * Temire nods, her eyes surveying the room in between glancing at the ceiling and the door. <Dorland> ::The door shudders as the orcs pound it again, the oak table pasted across it splintering a little in the middle.:: * Temire shrugs, "Normally I would, but then, normally the streets of Marsember aren't overrun with orcs, either. Will they be coming down one at a time or all at once?" <Dorland> Overrun? ::he draws down his brows:: What is happening outside? * Temire shrugs, "I don't know. It looks like someone teleported the whole damn army from Arabel to here. I probably had to fight a dozen of them just in the last few blocks to get here." <Dorland> Hm. Well, then, I suppose I must absolve you of your tardiness. ::he glances up at the ceiling again, grimacing as he shifts position against the wall:: All at once, I fear. But don't worry, they're not terribly aerodynamic. They should plummet quite nicely. For the second time. ::His smile is not pleasant.:: * Temire snaps her fingers to restore herself to her normal size and readies her mace as well as her rapier. She takes a steadying breath and then nods to Dorland, keeping her eyes on the orcs. * Dorland quirks an eyebrow again at Temire's unusual pairing of weapons but does not comment. He spares a glance at the door as the orcs bash it again, but the table holds. With a gesture, the orcs-- some of whom have been standing on the ceiling, now, glaring down at the pair and shouting-- suddenly have their world turned upside-down again, and fall as gracelessly and painfully as Dorland had predicted. * Temire rushes into the falling orcs even before the first one hits the floor, striking out at them with rapier, mace and feet as quickly and as lethally as she can, attempting to kill or incapacitate all of them before any of them can stand. <Dorland> ::The orcs, having been effectively dropped twice from a fifty-foot height in as many hours, put up only the most feeble resistance.:: * Temire dispatches the last orc and surveys the room, making certain that none of the orcs pose a threat and that the door is still holding. * Dorland watches Temire rush out amidst the falling bodies, dispatching them as she goes, and smiles tightly. "Well, I requested someone resourceful and passably skilled and witted. I suppose "reckless" will do." * Temire looks at Dorland, a fair copy of Jaret's flamboyant grin on her face, "'Reckless' is the only term I can think of to describe the best." <Dorland> Hrrumph. Well. ::he turns nearly white as he pushes away from his supporting wall and stands panting for several moments. He recomposes himself somewhat, and limps over towards the rear half of the room, squinting shrewdly at the wall and adjusting his position by a few yards.:: Yes, this should do. * Temire moves to join Dorland, keeping herself half facing the door, but hooking her mace onto her belt so that she has a free hand. <Dorland> Come, girl, and keep your eyes open. This spell will leave me very nearly tapped out. * Temire nods, "Right behind you." She pauses. "At least until we're out of this room." <Dorland> ::eying her again:: You said the orcs were all over the streets? <Temire> ::nods:: Where will we be coming out? I might know some back alleys the orcs shouldn't be using yet. * Dorland considers. "If I passwall from here, we should be able to intersect the passage from my study to the gardener's cot and thence outside. Southeast corner of the property." <Dorland> I shall require some assistance descending... I daren't remove this arrow. ::wincing again slightly:: <Dorland> Invisibility... ::he coughs again:: there's an invisibility scroll hidden at the cottage. That should get us most of the way to the temple, if we hurry... take the canals... ngggh! ::he winces as he tries to take too deep a breath:: * Temire wraps her free arm around Dorland for support. "I know where there should be a skiff over by the King's Tower." <Dorland> ::nods:: That far... I think I can walk. Now then... ::he reaches two fingers into one of the many pockets lining his robes and pulls out a pinch of what looks like small seeds. He tosses them on the floor as he speaks in an arcane tongue, and the floor opens up, a neat hole through wood and stone displaying a cross-section of passageway beneath. Behind them, the orcs throw themselves at the doors again, and the table splinters.:: * Temire looks at the door worriedly as she helps Dorland down the new passage. * Dorland grunts, sweating a little and turning distressingly pasty-faced as Temire helps lower him into the passage below. He leans against the dank stone wall trying to recover his breath while Temire makes her own way down. "That... way." He nods. * Temire takes the lead, pointy end first, her free hand back ready to catch or steady Dorland if he needs it. Temire sets the best pace she thinks Dorland can maintain. * Dorland clenches his teeth, limping along behind her. The splintering noise gets louder, and for a moment the triumphant shouts of the orcs are clear. Dorland waves irritably towards the hole in the ceiling, closing the passwall and plunging the pair of them into darkness and near-silence. * Temire pauses for a moment, hoping that her eyes will adjust to the darkness before taking Dorland's hand and proceeding forward carefully. <Dorland> ::his hand is cold and a little slippery with his blood, but it clamps tightly around hers:: Usually... have a lamp.... <Temire> It's alright, so long as there aren't any side passages we could get lost in. <Dorland> ::irritably:: No, no. Here, there, that's all. <Temire> Good. ::quickens her pace slightly:: * Dorland stifles a grunt of pain and moves to keep up with her. <Dorland> ::The two continue perhaps another hundred yards in the utter dark before the point of Temire's rapier scrapes against stone. Dorland's breathing has gotten steadily hoarser behind her:: Steps... right.... * Temire feels along the right wall until she finds the steps and then starts up them, making certain that Dorland is right behind her. * Dorland staggers up the steps behind her, groping against the wall until his hand finds a smooth stone. He presses his hand against it. "Apere." <Dorland> ::The wall in front of them dissolves, showing the interior of a humble cottage. An elderly man dressed in simple clothes lies dead on the floor, his throat cut, and the room is a shambles.:: * Temire leads the way into the room cautiously, searching for any signs that the orcs may still be present. * Dorland looks stricken. "Hob...." <Temire> Where's the scroll? * Dorland is pale and shaken, looking dazedly around the cottage for several moments before nodding to a key-cubby beside the entrance, its door ripped off. "In back of there...." * Temire looks at Dorland, "Do you mean in the back of the cubby, or behind the cubby?" <Dorland> ::staring at Hob's body sorrowfully, looking up as Temire addresses him again:: There's a false door. Turn the top rightmost hook and pull. * Temire follows Dorland's instructions, reaching inside the hidden compartment and retrieving its contents. <Dorland> ::looking grim:: He will be revenged. ::he looks around the cottage once more and shakes his head, taking the scroll from her:: Take hold of my sleeve. I doubt this will last us all the way to Morningmist Hall, but it's better than naught. * Temire holds onto Dorland's shoulder, standing behind him so his arms have full range of motion. * Dorland unrolls the scroll and reads from it, tracing a glyph with his finger. The paper disintegrates, the sparkling ash settling on both of their clothing and causing them to fade from sight. * Temire sheathes her rapier and leads the way to the door, still holding onto Dorland as she peeks outside to ensure that no one will notice the door opening as they exit. <Dorland> ::The grounds appear empty, muddy boot prints and carelessly crushed plants indicating that the orcs have been and gone from this poorer corner of the grounds.:: <Dorland> ::quietly, from thin air behind her:: It will hide our forms, but not sound. Walk carefully. * Temire leads the way out into the road and towards the King's Tower, pulling Dorland into an alley between two warehouses after crossing the main thoroughfare. * Dorland pauses briefly at the mouth of the alley, looking back at the ruin of his home. He sighs. "Well... 'Delia's been nagging at me to redecorate, anyway." Without another word, he allows Temire to lead him onward. * Temire leads Dorland along the waterfront, the invisibility allowing them to maintain a faster pace now that they're off the main roads. * Dorland's sleeve moves unevenly in Temire's grasp as he limps along behind her, obviously trying to breathe as quietly as he can, although an unhealthy rale has developed as they quicken the pace. <Temire> ::As they near the King's Tower, Temire stops in a shadowed alley and whispers:: Stay here. ::Without waiting for a reply Temire releases Dorland and silently moves off.:: * Dorland makes no comment, whether from frustrated caution or mere exhaustion is uncertain. <Temire> ::A minute passes, then Temire's whisper returns:: I've got a boat, Dorland. ::Something brushes against Dorland, then grabs ahold of his robes:: <Dorland> ::hissing testily back:: *Master* Dorland. ::a rustle of fabric as he straightens again from his sagging lean against the alley wall:: Go on, girl. * Temire leads Dorland across to the water. "There's a ladder under the edge, and a skiff tied to the ladder." <Dorland> ::faintly:: A ladder. Great gods. ::more slight noise as Dorland attempts to navigate the ladder, followed by a thump, a sudden fierce rocking of the boat, and an agonized cry that sounds like it was muffled by a fold of fabric as Dorland apparently falls the rest of the way into the boat.:: * Temire swings herself onto the ladder and quickly climbs down into the skiff, grabbing one of the poles and shoving off into the canal. <Temire> How bad are you hurt, Dorland? * Dorland's breathing is audible, but he makes no reply to her question. <Temire> Master Dorland, if you're conscious, try not to scream or move anything, we're coming up on Dragon Bridge. If you're not conscious, well then, I shouldn't have to worry about it. <Dorland> ::there's a rustle of fabric, and his breathing quiets:: Carry on. * Temire lets the skiff drift under the Bridge, eyeing a few orcs on the Bridge warily. Fortunately, after a few moments of inspection, the orcs seem to dismiss the skiff as a sinking derelict. * Dorland watches the bridge recede behind them, rocking the boat slightly as he turns on his side to survey the shore. * Temire continues to pole the skiff along, watching the activity on the waterfront where orcs can be seen forcing their way into buildings and taking prisoners. * Temire softly mutters curses to herself, but maintains the skiff's steady pace as Spice Bridge comes into sight. * Dorland curses softly and venomously. The boat rocks gently again as he turns to look about him more. <Temire> Blessed Mother, please let our luck hold out a little longer. <Dorland> ::his voice tired and soft:: Tymora favors the ones who make their chances. But no one could have planned for this.... * Temire stops poling as the skiff begins to slide under the bridge. * Dorland falls silent again as they pass under the bridge, listening to the booted feet tramping overhead. Orcs seem to be everywhere. <Temire> ::The skiff passes under the bridge and begins to drift away from it.:: * Temire begins poling the skiff again once she feels it's a safe distance from the bridge. "How are you doing, Master Dorland?" <Dorland> ::sounding like he's speaking through clenched teeth:: Delightfully. Being shot focuses one's mind amazingly. I can think of several colleagues to whom I will be recommending it as a study aid. <Dorland> ::They round the head of the island and slip into the slightly deeper water of Marsember's smallest inland harbor, the last stretch of canal before Lathander's temple. Ahead of them, from the next bridge, several orcs begin shouting and pointing towards their skiff.:: Oh, dear. Temire... get down. * Temire curses and crouches down as much as she can and still have the leverage to pole the skiff, steering hard to the left and towards a relatively clear section of the waterfront. <Dorland> ::hissing, nearly invisible from shore as he lies in the bottom of the leaky boat:: Where are you going? The Temple is on the *other* side of the bridge, on the island! * Temire continues poling towards the shore, slowly building up speed, "Yes. I'm taking us some place safer." She surveys the shore for a moment, "I don't suppose you're strong enough for a light spell?" <Dorland> ::a little crabbily:: Do I look like a priest? I don't happen to have one memorized at the moment, no. ::considers:: A few other things that might be of use, though, once we're to shore. Where are you taking me that's "safer" than the sanctuary of the healers? <Temire> The Psionics Academy. I had a friend kidnapped out of Morningmist Hall. Master Bluestar isn't about to let that happen under his nose. And if you've got something to clear the shore for us that would be wonderful. * Temire curses as orc arrows start falling into the water around the skiff. <Dorland> ::harrumphs:: Mindbenders.... ::his tone is highly skeptical:: No, I expended most of my mass spells in my ::coughs:: hasty remodelling. However... ::with a grunt of pain, he moves himself around until he can touch Temire's ankle, whispering arcane words. As he does so, she feels power flood her limbs, and her skin slowly turns grey:: * Dorland falls back, looking rather green himself. "If it comes to it... I have a... contingency spell in place. Just... get me into shelter..." * Temire looks questioningly at Dorland as she ducks beneath an arrow that sticks in the skiff above her head, "Right, hold on then, this is going to be a bit rough." * Dorland grits his teeth, one hand pressed against his wounded side as he hisses in breath. <Temire> ::With a solid thud Temire grounds the skiff on the shore, tossing Dorland about. The next moment, Temire grabs Dorland, slinging him over her shoulders and jumping ashore in a mad dash to reach the school gates before the orcs on the shore catch up with her:: * Dorland cries out in pain at the rough handling. <Temire> ::Orc arrows begin falling around Temire and Dorland, some missing by frightening margins.:: <Dorland> ::blood drips slowly down Temire's arm as the arrow wound that had mostly crusted over is torn open again:: <Ilarion> ::the school has been under attack for twenty minutes or so... masses of orcs surround the school, and by the pile of ash and bone in front of the door, several of them have been stupid enough to try and storm the gates. Ilarion and the other professors, along with a dozen or so of the older students, are apparently manning defenses and setting telekinetic walls in place:: * Temire skids to a halt and starts cursing, seeing the doors to the school barred shut and under seige. * Bluestar has levitated a brace of on-fire orcs over the attacking forces and casually drops them onto a squad. "Oh, this is just the best Sunday in the history of Sundays." <Temire> ::over her shoulder:: Any other tricks up your sleeves, Dorland? * Ilarion gives Bluestar a quick grin, then concentrates. Several orcs that he focuses on scream in agony and fall, writhing, to the ground. He leans one hand against the wall for support. * Bluestar hops from one side of the courtyard to the other, a few hastily fired arrows buzz through the air behind him. "Bessani, Sendria, Orich, firm up that corner there. You're slipping. Ysodver, Tanloru, get down into the courtyard. It looks like we'll have to get off the walls after all. Tyl'gainia and I have something laid in place. Just get down, now." <Dorland> ::weakly:: Last... one... hold on... ::muttering to himself, one hand pressing flat against her back-- and suddenly, the world around Temire slows down:: * Temire gently sets Dorland down, "If you find yourself buried in orc bodies I'd suggest not moving until the fighting stops." * Bluestar squints out over the battlefield, the arrows heading his way swerving awkwardly as they close on him and thunking into the wall. "Professor Quilisian, your roommate has arrived. And she's brought company." * Dorland mutters something that, from the tone, doesn't sound particularly complimentary, but his voice is too weak to carry over the sounds of battle. * Ilarion blinks. "She *what*?" He whirls around, one hand shielding his eyes as he searches for her. * Temire stands up and pulls her helmet off, revealing the shock of white hair against her sweat darkened brown tresses. She tosses the helmet aside and draws her rapier and mace, standing over Dorland. "Well, I told Tarri I'd rather die young and beautiful." <Bluestar> ::pointing:: Over there. By the skiff that's run aground. * Ilarion catches sight of the familiar form. "Shit. Shit shit shit..." * Temire begins knocking arrows out of the air with her rapier, but she misses more than she hits. Several of the arrows bounce off, but some stick into her in distressing locations, though she doesn't seem to be affected by them. * Ilarion draws a deep breath and closes his eyes. He raises one hand and a strange shimmer appears in the air around Temire. <Temire> ::The arrows approaching Temire slow down, many falling to the ground before they reach her, Temire's rapier knocking the slower-moving arrows out of the air.:: <Dorland> ::muttering to himself and wheezing:: Suzail... could've had a nice ::cough:: townhouse in Suzail, but no, Delia wanted "grounds"... ::cough, groan:: <Temire> ::The first of the orcs charging Temire suddenly comes up short, seeming to struggle through some invisible barrier.:: * Ilarion is sweating and trembling, grinding his teeth together. "Professor Bluestar... can you? Some help here would be good..." * Temire waits and, when the orc is close enough, lunges at it, only to have her own attack slow down as it approaches the orc. <Bluestar> Of course. I should be back momentarily, Professor. If not, Cwalindia knows what to do. ::he draws two slim knives from his boots, closes his eyes, disappears, and reappears ten feet or so in front of Temire. He steps forward and buries one knife deep in the back of the orc struggling with Temire's barrier.:: Miss Temire. What brings you back? * Temire smiles at Bluestar as she recovers. "Well I'm supposed to keep Master Dorland here alive, and after what happened to Tarri at Morningmist Hall I figured he was safer here. Besides I didn't particularly feel like having orcs fall on my head when we passed under the last bridge." * Dorland curses quietly to himself between gritted teeth. * Bluestar looks over at the pale-faced War Wizard. "They didn't ask for many references, did they?" He walks around, putting himself between Temire and Dorland, reaching out to touch each of them. "Let's get back to the school." For a moment, everything becomes impenetrably dark and cold, and then the three of them are in the courtyard of the school. * Ilarion nearly collapses as he releases the inertial barrier when the group ports back in. "Oh, thank the gods... Mira..." He rushes to her side. * Temire sighs and slings her mace back on her belt, relaxing noticeably, "Thank you, Master Bluestar. Besides the obvious, do you have any idea what's going on?" She bends down to begin examining Dorland's wound. "And where can I take him?" <Dorland> ::through gritted teeth:: Lathander's... was my *first* choice... girl. <Temire> Yes, and as I told you, it's safer here. * Dorland turns his head slightly, casting an eye over the besieging orcs and giving Temire a look that speaks disgusted volumes. * Temire stands and wraps her free arm around Roni, resting her head on his shoulder and whispering, "Thank the Blessed Mother you're safe." * Ilarion spins at an urgent call from another student and looks over the wall. "Oh, shit. Bluestar, whatever you're gonna do, do it fast! They're bringing in a catapult..." <Bluestar> It appears that an army of orcs has decided to relocate to the sunny Marsember region without consulting local realtors. They announced themselves very rudely at the front door and were rebuffed. And you're not going anywhere. The War Wizard should go to the Psychometabolics classroom along with the rest of the wounded. * Bluestar looks up and barks, "Students! Off the walls now. Ilarion, Cwalindia, to me. Now!" * Ilarion nods. "Right... " <Cwalindia> ::Bluestar's wife, a pale and extremely young elf, moves gracefully to his side:: Ready, my dear... * Temire lifts Dorland carefully this time and carries him into the school. <Dorland> ::grunts with pain and presses his hand to his side again:: Your strength... will run out in three minutes. I would advice haste, girl, unless you wish a... ::pant:: *truly* abysmal job reference. * Bluestar takes their hands. "Reach out, sense the walls. The mental passphrase to get past the initial obstacles is 'lockdown inside out' You'll find dormant enhancement and psionic receptors. Power the receptors. Begin in three, two, one." * Ilarion nods and closes his eyes. <Cwalindia> ::raises her free hand in one of those gestures that psionicists seem to find so necessary, her fingers spread:: I see them... ::she takes a deep breath and begins:: * Bluestar has his eyes open, and is ferociously glaring at the walls. <Ilarion> ::as the small group concentrates, the ground rumbles under their feet, knocking books off shelves and generally treating the surrounding area like a small earthquake, then a glimmer of light explodes from the ground about ten feet around the entire school, doming up to enclose the grounds. The light shimmers and swirls in a rainbow of impossible colors, sparkling with lines of silver and gold:: * Temire snorts, but quickens her pace, arriving in the psychometabolism classroom in short order and being directed to an empty pallet by Collette. "You'll be alright here, Master Dorland. I need to go make sure that they've got things under control out there. Think you'll be alright for a few minutes?" <Dorland> ::waves her away:: Just send the healer, and... don't get yourself killed, lass. * Temire looks up at the sudden rumbling and sprints for the door when it subsides. "Collette, he's got an arrow in his side and it's been jarred pretty badly. I'd say he's been bleeding off and on for the past half hour." <Ilarion> ::the orcs recoil at first from the exceptionally tacky shielding. After a short pause and hasty consultation with the officers, a small troop attempts to storm the shield. As they pass into the shimmering light, without hesitation, they crumble into pieces smaller than dust:: * Bluestar gets a small, vicious smile on his face. <Ilarion> Oh, that's disgusting.... <Ilarion> ::looks over at Cwalindia:: Do you realize, as stupid as orcs are, how much *sweeping* we're going to have to do around here? <Bluestar> We discussed having the Detonate discipline embedded, instead of Disintegration, but I'm glad we changed our minds as the thought of being charged by naked orcs is quite enough to put me off dinner. <Ilarion> Thank you, Bluestar, for that charming mental image... * Temire arrives back in the courtyard, stopping near the professors, but not including herself in their conversation. <Cwalindia> ::laughs, a shimmer of silvery voice:: That's my husband, always good for a bit of meal off-putting... * Ilarion is not as far wrong as he might have hoped. Several more brigades of orcs charge the shields, showering the grounds with gritty black particles. * Ilarion brushes off his shirt. "Yuck." <Bluestar> They can still teleport through it, but it should take them some time to think of that. We'll have to have groups ready to deal with new arrivals. * Ilarion staggers to one side. "Not me... I need to eat first." <Bluestar> ::nodding:: Temire, go find professors to take Ilarion and Cwalindia's place. I'll stay to inform them how to power the shield. * Ilarion offers his arm to Bluestar's wife. "Care to join me for a snack?" * Temire nods, "Right away, Master Bluestar." She turns to head back into the school, then staggers, her skin color returning to normal. "Oh, one of those was not pleasant." She heads into the school. <Cwalindia> ::bounces up on her tiptoes to kiss her husband:: You come in as soon as you can, dear. I'll not have you out here all day... ::she shakes a finger at him:: Yes... food sounds lovely... * Temire returns to the courtyard after a few minutes with Professors Dupre and Ruonde, "Anything else, Master Bluestar?" <Bluestar> Tend to your charge. ::Bluestar sets to explaining the shield to Dupre and Ruonde:: "So, every three hours, it needs to be charged, and someone should stay and watch over it constantly... <Collette> ::meanwhile, back in the psychometabolism classroom, Collette puts her hands on Dorland's wounds and concentrates until they close:: There, sir. Does that feel better? * Temire heads back into the school and to the psychometabolism classroom to get the arrows removed from her armor. * Dorland relaxes back against the table as the pain recedes. "Yes, thank you." He rubs the bridge of his nose with one hand, eyes closed. "Have you any notion of what's going on out there?" <Collette> ::shakes her head:: No sir... the Headmaster "yelled" some orders and I came straight here. I still have a headache... ::she sighs:: You could try asking him... he's the blonde elven man with the vicious scowl. He was out in the courtyard, the last I heard. * Temire enters the psychometabolism classroom and heads behind a partition. "Don't worry about me Collette, the armor took most of it. I'll holler if I need you." <Dorland> ::nods, sitting up slowly:: May I make a donation to your order? <Collette> ::blinks:: Order, sir? <Dorland> ::peers through a rent in his robe, inspecting the smooth, pale skin beneath:: Your order, your deity. The One to whom I owe thanks for my health. <Collette> ::blushes rosily:: Oh, that's me, sir. I'm not a priest, I'm psionic. I healed you. Just me. <Temire> ::muttered cursing and at one point the sound of a heavy piece of metal hitting the floor come from behind the partition. After a few minutes Temire emerges from behind the partition, her armor and tabard in an untidy bundle under one arm. The removal of the armor has revealed a heavy, black, silk shirt. Her weapons are still at her side.:: How are you doing, Master Dorland? <Dorland> ::blinks at Collette, peering at her dubiously for a moment:: Just... all by yourself? <Collette> ::nods earnestly:: It's my best talent, sir, but I can do a little more... ::she glances over at Temire and gestures, levitating the bundle of ruined clothing over to the laundering pile:: * Temire smiles. "Thanks, Collette. Any idea if anyone here knows how to fix armor? I suspect I'm going to be needing it again." * Dorland swallows hard. "Ah... I... ah... see. Well, then... thank you. May I offer you some recompense for your trouble?" <Collette> ::grins:: It was no trouble, but if Temire wants to point you in the direction of the kitchens, I'm *really* hungry... * Temire chuckles, "I'll see what I can do about getting food for the lot of you. I don't suppose Bluestar's gotten around to working out the sleeping arrangements, given that all the faculty are here as well as the students?" * Dorland raises both eyebrows. "I rather doubt you'd want anything I cooked, lass. My specialty of late has been orc." His grin is rather wicked, and he winks at her. "But I am grateful to you, and would be happy to see what I might acquire on your behalf. I'm of little other use until I've a decent night's rest, I'm afraid." He nods to Temire as she approaches. <Collette> ::shrugs:: I don't have any idea... ::she studies Temire's armor:: You might try and see if Palim can fix this for you, I know he's been working on molecular rearrangement... <Bluestar> ::entering the room:: I've been a little busy, Temire, to determine who's sleeping over with whom. * Temire nods, "I figured." She picks her armor back up, "Anything I can do for you, Master Bluestar?" <Bluestar> You could introduce me to our new guest, if you're not too busy. * Dorland looks Bluestar up and down, sliding off the table to stand and offer him a somewhat stiff, small bow. "You would be the Headmaster of this school, I presume? I thank you for your--" he glances at Temire, "unexpected hospitality, sir. I am the War Wizard Dorland." * Temire blushes to the roots of her hair. "Master Bluestar, may I introduce Master Dorland of the War Wizards. Master Dorland, may I introduce Master Bluestar, Deputy Headmaster of the Nightstorm Psionics Academy." * Ilarion comes into the room, carrying a roast beef sandwich in one hand and eating a ham and cheese sandwich with the other. * Bluestar inclines his head to Dorland. "I am serving as Headmaster while the Headmistress is away. And you're welcome." He gives Dorland the once over. "Do you have your spellbooks secreted somewhere on your person, by any chance?" * Dorland looks chagrinned. "My study was not a defensible location, and I had not counted on... guests. I have the book I was studying with me, yes, but not all, I'm afraid. Tomorrow, after some rest, I shall report to the barracks, and see what may be recovered." * Ilarion snorts. "Um... I don't think you can do that, really, Master Mage." <Temire> I've got mine with me, but I don't know how much help it will be. * Bluestar raises an eyebrow. "I do so hate to shatter illusions so early in our conversation, but you're not going anywhere. No one is." * Ilarion finishes one sandwich and puts his arm around Temire's shoulders. "I'm glad you're here, Mira... what a mess... I was so worried about you." * Dorland raises an eyebrow at Ilarion and turns back to Bluestar. "I appreciate the desire to retain my services in this hour of need, sir, and I am grateful to you, but I have a duty to this city. I must return to my post and go where I am most needed. I fear the orcs plan a repeat of Arabel." * Temire wraps an arm around Roni's waist and leans against him. "Think you can forgive me for being too busy trying to keep Master Dorland and myself alive to worry about you?" <Ilarion> ::grins, shaking his head:: The safest place in the city right now is slightly behind Professor Bluestar... I don't think I was in any trouble. <Bluestar> You misunderstand. I'm not retaining your services. I'm protecting the children. I'm not dropping the shield so you can traipse out the door while the orcs pour in like the tide. <Temire> Umm... Master Dorland... I don't know how much you were watching the shore on the way here, but... I'm not certain there's a barracks left. * Temire gives Roni a weak smile, "That's what I tried to tell Master Dorland." <Dorland> ::face darkening:: You mean to tell me... ::gesturing to the building:: we're all trapped in here? <Ilarion> ::in a low voice:: He catches on quick... <Bluestar> You can think of it as trapped if it warms your heart to do so. I'll think of it as keeping the orcs out. Marsember doesn't look like it's worth visiting at the moment, anyway. <Temire> Master Dorland, I don't know about you, but I'd much rather be here than hiding beneath orc corpses, which was about the only idea I had left before Master Bluestar saved us. <Dorland> ::glaring at Ilarion:: Young man, my side was injured, not my ears. And as your girlfriend's desire to place her womanly worry over you above her sworn duty is what has trapped me here, I'll thank you to keep your comments to yourself. <Collette> ::her eyes red and puffy, she returns from another partitioned area:: Master Bluestar, I'm so *sorry*... ::she sniffles and wipes at her eyes:: I... he pushed too hard... I couldn't help him... * Dorland takes another breath for further tirade, but bites it back on Collette's reappearance. * Temire stiffens, half-stepping towards Dorland before catching herself, her fist clenched hard enough to turn the knuckles white and a very grim expression on her face. * Bluestar turns, flickers and is gone. * Collette falls to her knees, weeping. "I couldn't *do* anything..." * Bluestar steps out from behind the partition Collette just left, his expression furious. He stops behind Collette and kneels down behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. <Bluestar> Go get something to eat, Miss Stantz. Come back when you're ready. <Dorland> ::looks somewhat stricken, going over to Collette and bending to pat her shoulder somewhat awkwardly:: There, lass... perhaps... perhaps some food would make you feel better? * Temire turns away from Dorland in disgust, looking sympathetically at Collette. <Collette> ::nodding, she gets back to her feet:: I'll... I'll be back soon, I promise... ::she looks around, almost wildly:: Why did this have to happen? ::she doesn't seem to expect an answer, heading down the hallways towards the cafeteria:: * Bluestar slowly stands up. * Temire sighs and rubs at her face for a moment, "There's going to be a lot of that, isn't there?" * Dorland sighs heavily, looking after her and tugging idly on his salt-and-pepper beard. <Ilarion> ::grimly:: I hope not. ::glances at Bluestar:: Who was it? <Bluestar> Reldan Kennan. He burned himself out. Miss Stantz was right, there was nothing she could do. <Ilarion> ::winces:: Damn... ::with a decisive air:: I'll go talk to Professor Dupre and see if we can't prevent any more of *that*. <Bluestar> War Wizard Dorland, if you conjure up a way to leave my school that doesn't endanger my students, you're welcome to take it. Disrupt the defenses and I'll have an eight year old girl put you into the shield. We can talk more later. Right now, I have things to tend to. * Dorland presses his lips together, but nods to Bluestar. * Bluestar stalks out of the classroom. * Temire nods to Dorland, "I'll keep him out of the way." To Dorland, "Come on, Master Dorland. I don't know about you, but I'm ravenous, and I don't know how long the stores are going to last with that shield they're running." * Ilarion nods. "Come and see me in my office, later, my dear. I've got some work to do." He leans over and kisses Temire's cheek. * Temire smiles and pats Roni's arm, "When I get the chance." <Ilarion> ::under his breath:: Thank all the gods that Ilya's in Selgaunt... * Temire nods in silent agreement with Roni as she leads Dorland to the kitchens. * Dorland draws himself up and follows Temire wordlessly towards the kitchens. * Ilarion takes a deep breath, then heads out to talk to Dupre. |
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