Gyrfalcon

I pray you find the man that makes your heart sing I pray you find the love that heals your clipped wings. And I wish he were me. I hope you find a love who's bright rays makes your smile bloom like a rose and brings the sparkle, the light of a million stars, to your beautiful eyes. I wish for him to compliment you, and bring a blush like the sunset to your white cheeks I yearn that you feel his touch, goose-down soft against your skin, and shiver because its him who is gently stroking your cheek, your love, the man of your life. And I wish he were me. But its your choice, your decision, one of a constellation, a fish in the sea with bigger catches that are better suited by your words, to what you want, need, wish, desire, love. And I accept, and we turn in the endless dance of life and I will love him like a brother, if he brings a sparkle to your eyes, and a blossom to your cheeks and if he makes you smile, I will be happy that you found love, your heart's fulfillment, my dearest friend.

*flushes slightly* You're too kind, Yui-chan. *grins* Thank you. =)

Jheric slumped against the cool trunk of a gnarled tree, and just concentrated on trying to stay warm and balance his thoughts. Through the haze across his mind, he could hear voices arguing this point or that, but Jheric couldn't care less. Back and forth went the voices... He felt a yawning pit, a growing darkness in his mind. A hand shook his arm, and Jheric looked up blearily. "What do you think? Should we go around or fly over? And should we keep the horses?" Damienn was asking him, curious as to why the normally talkative mage was so silent. "We sh-should go ar-around... I ca-can't get dr-dropped in t-t-that way. And a ni-nice warm horse wo-would be wo-wonderful." Jheric said, trying hard to focus, but with darkness creeping into his vision. "I believe we should keep the horses. They are much faster once we get out of the swamp than we would be on foot, and therefore should be kept. I ask the others their opinions as well... and also that we choose a new leader for the party..." Balladore was saying in the background, through a distant ringing. Closer, Damienn was looking concerned "You alright?" he asked. In Jheric's fogged brain, that came together as "You alright, new leader for the party?" With a sudden strength Jheric pulled Damienn close "I'm not a leader! You can't do this to me! I refuse to be used as a figurehead!" Damienn pulled free of Jheric's grasp, and without someone to balance him, the mage stumbled. As he fell, so to did the darkness in his head. Jheric passed out. OOC: Jheric is soaked, partially drowned, and going into shock from casting spells a tad too quickly... basically, wrapping him warmly will help. He won't be waking up for a while though, so you'll either have to leave him, or find some way to bring him with you.

what in the Hells possessed me to do that? Thank the gods a little of my old magic works... Gyrfalcon flexed his hand, and the sword shimmered between the katals and disappeared, only to reappear in Gyrfalcon's grasp. He sheathed his sword, and brushed his fingers across the hilts of his throwing knives. much better to use these... he thought, gazing into the strange silver eyes of the one who called himself Cioden Darkeye. "I'm afraid, General, that I can say nothing good nor ill about this man's fighting prowness... though catching the blade like that is in his favor... for I have never met him." Gyrfalcon said, frowning at the strange man. With eyes of silver such as those, he would surely remember... Gyrfalcon shook himself, and walked towards General Alexander, holding out his orders. "The orders that have brought me here, sir." he said simply, as Alexander read the orders, placing Gyrfalcon and his warriors under Alexander's direct command, answerable only to him, recieving their missions only from him. Alexander looked up, to see Gyrfalcon watching him in a patient, relaxed pose, ready to stand until the mountains crumble around them if he needed to. General Alexander looked at Gyrfalcon, then at his deputy Karl, who blanched and stiffened even more, to Cioden Darkeye, and finally to Midicus.

Naive, mage, brash and bold as the fire he wields Jheric fox-quick thief, sparkle in his blue eyes, ready grin and sleight of hand, Erick Battle-tempered, time sharpened old as the land, hard as the steel of his sword, but smiling in hapiness and humor, humanity not lost to time's wear Gyrfalcon Desperate, searching, grasping, drowning, fighting to survive, to remain what he was Daryl Behind them all, green eyed and dark haired, cut short, jeweled with pearls of rainwater, ducking through the downpour, wandering his way home, thinking what he will write, what he will say, what will be said and imagining his lives. Gregory

Gyrfalcon sighed softly as he saw the spreading mass of tents in front of him. Finally, after a long, hard ride from the central lands of the Confederacy, he and his force had reached Duke Alexander's main camp… and Gyrfalcon's meeting with his new superior. The half-elf half-turned in his seat to see the small column of his company leave the forest, and start down the short incline before the long clear stretch between the edge of the forest and the camp. Smart… scouts can't get too close to the camp, and they can see someone coming early enough that the call to alarm can be made, should it come to that. Gyrfalcon thought, and a voice to his side broke his reverie. "Strange… they haven't come out to meet us yet. They *do* know we are coming, don't they?" Gyrfalcon turned and grinned at his second in command, and friend, Karl. "Considering how that big spear of yours reflects light, they *have* to know." Karl touched his naganata possessively, and grinned. He has a point… the sentries should have challenged us by now. And they're swarming around down there… something has to be wrong. "Alright everyone, forward at a canter!" Gyrfalcon shouted, and heard the order repeated by lieutenants and sergeants. The column picked up speed and started down into the camp. The column pounded past soldiers, hurriedly armoring themselves, making last minute repairs, and forming into units. "Looks like we're just in time people… we're apparently going to war." Gyrfalcon called back to his company. Their faces were a range- eager, grim, happy, fear-tinged, and a few calm faces from those who had fought before and knew that nothing that exciting was happening yet. Gyrfalcon himself was calm, the serenity of experience. The time for bloodletting would come later, for now, there was nothing to work himself up form. They continued forward to the center of the camp. Finally, just a few hundred feet from a massive tent that had to be General Alexander's, a major ordered them to halt. Gyrfalcon signaled, and the company complied. The major looked up at the dusty half-elf with suspicion in his blue eyes. "Who are you? What are you doing here? Why are you so dusty, and where are you going?" His voice was a nasal whine, and Gyrfalcon inwardly sighed. Damn military bureaucrats… there has to be one everywhere. And always, a place for every person, to be determined by this one… "I am Gyrfalcon No'Dessu. *Captain* Gyrfalcon, I'm here to report to my superior, we are dusty because we just rode in, and I'm going to report to my superior." Gyrfalcon said, wearily. "Well, I'll deliver your orders to your superior. Give me your orders then, then go and guard the message center. I have documents of great importance that simply must-" The major said, hand held out impatiently. Gyrfalcon cut him off. "You aren't my superior officer, Major, and that is to whom I must deliver my orders. Furthermore, only my superior officer can order me to do anything." The major's face turned red, then purple. "You insolent slug! I am giving you one chance- one! - before I have you arrested for disobeying a direct order, and I'll have you court-martialed, broken in rank, and thrown in the stockade, you disrespectful whelp!" He stopped to gather a breath. "You try the court-martial, please. Tell me how it works out. Company, remain here, this won't take too long. Karl, come with me." Gyrfalcon heeled forward, and Karl followed, snickering as the major had to jump out of the way and landed on his seat. They reined up at the entrance, and a pair of guards stiffened to attention, shifting their halberds to something like attention… except at an angle more ready for use. A sergeant looked at Gyrfalcon. "Your business, Captain?" Gyrfalcon held his sealed orders towards the sergeant, and showed him the pertinent lines on the back of the orders. Quote: Captain No'Dessu, report as quickly as possible to General Alexander, for immediate deployment in his theater of operations. These orders are to be opened only by General Alexander, and the bearer of these orders is not to be reassigned to any task until these orders have been received and confirmed. "Yes sir." The sergeant said, and saluted. "If you and your deputy will follow me…" Gyrfalcon and Karl dismounted, and followed the sergeant into the tent. Gyrfalcon blinked in the dimmer interior, and blinked again when the higher echelons of the military units in the camp turned to face him. At his back, Karl muttered "Oh gods…" Gyrfalcon just cleared his throat.

*Gyrfalcon applauds* Very nice poetry, it flows very smoothly in most places for me.

OOC: Justin Silverblade: Erick is human, but he is currently disguising himself through magic and his skills to look like a half-elf. =) Erick groaned as the heaping trays of food and drink appeared at the table, large plates being put in front of every person there. Erick looked down at the steak in front of him, and considered that at least he would eat well, even if he could never come back here again... innkeepers did *not* give out credit, and Erick's few silver and his coppers would not cover more then half of this meal. He shot a *very* nasty look at the plate-mail clad man, who had introduced himself as Justin Silverblade. Damned adventurers.... find a handful of gold on each orc they kill, and then end up thinking that *everyone* has a handful of gold on them... Erick sighed and began to eat, listening intently as Imoe described the events at her home. He listened so intently that he forgot to slow his eating, as someone who hadn't seen sights just as grim would. Luckily, neither the druid nor the adventurer noticed that fact. Those.... demons! Erick's guild had a rather strict, if small, code of honor, and was harsh in enforcing it. "Do you know what the soldiers looked like?" Justin asked. Erick listened to the response, memorizing everything. The descriptions would go out that night. Indescriminate murderers and rapists have the unfortunate effect of causing the authorities to crack down on everything and everybody in the underworld, and his guild wouldn't want that. Those men were going to be in a *lot* of trouble... He blinked in surprise and considered the girl as she spoke of Legion. That sounds like a lich... what would a lich want to do with a small girl? WHY would he need a small girl? "...We'll protect you. Right, guys?" Erick looked up in surprise, and locked gazes with Imoe. There was something so frightened, so wounded in her gaze... Erick breathed out "To the ends of my life." OOC: Okay, first off, the thieves guild can or cannot take out the men. Depends on if I can report and what Turi or the rest of ye do with them. *grin* Also, I'm not making Legion a lich... thats just what Erick thinks he is. he could be something completely different.

Erick growled at himself, a silent hiss of breath. How could he have been so stupid as to try for this guy's pouch? Granted, the target had been tempting enough, staring for long minutes into the fire... just his luck the man had noticed his attempt to ease his pouch from his belt. Erick looked up at the man with large brown eyes, set in a face with a half-elven cast to it and with an unruly shock of black hair sprouting from his head. Please, please, please don't let my illusion spell give out too soon... though my makeup skills and the dim light might cause them to not notice... He thought to himself. He flashed a bright smile at the man with the staff. "Really, sir, I had noticed it had fallen to the ground by your chair, and seeing you engrossed in weighty ponderings, I choose to try to return it to your belt without disturbing you..." "Oh really? And the fact I keep it knotted about my belt would allow that." the man responded, tapping his staff slowly. "Well, guvner, knots do have a way of coming unformed over a day's activities... perhaps you also didn't tie it as tightly as you normally do." Erick replied smoothly. "Or perhaps your fingers aided the slipping of my knot!" the man said, brows furrowing as he pointed the staff directly at Erick. Uhoh. "You accuse *me* of being a thief, sir?" Erick said in his best wounded tone of voice, his face a mask of hurt innocence. "I don't have to accuse, I already know! You've probably been out stealing all day, and now you've chosen to rob some stupid old druid, who wouldn't probably realize that he's being robbed!" the man was becoming more agitated, waving the staff slightly as he spoke. Erick warily watched the end, knowing that he was most likely going to die, with the mutterings of the other occupents increasing in volume. "You *think* you know, old man." Erick said, righteous anger in his voice- the young man only trying to hlep and now being unjustly accused. "I have not robbed a single person this day, and you may search my clothing if you would try to find proof. I have only a single pouch, with only a few silver in it." All true, since this old man had been the first mark of the evening. "Would you swear this before whomever your God or Goddess is?" the druid asked, eyes probing Erick's altered features for his sincerity. "Of course." Erick said confidently, and he would. Mask was the patron of thieves, after all. The druid gestured impatiently, and Erick said loudly, for all to hear. "Under the eyes of my God, and may my voice reach his ears, I swear that I have not stolen from anyone this day." He fell silent, and after a few moments when he was not struck down, the crowd began to drift away. "Fine, then. You won't hesitate to join our table and have a drink. After all, even if you did attempt to rob me, I have my money back now." The druid extended a hand and pulled Erick to his feet. "Of course, good sir, I will joing you for a drink." Erick said. What he actually wanted to do was get away from the inn, but he couldn't rush off, as it would arouse suspicion. So Erick found himself seated with the armored man he had seen that morning, and the druid, and he was facing the girl. Of all the strange luck... was his bemused thought.

*Gyr applauds* Very nice. =)

*Gyr applauds* Very nice poetry. =) Welcome, and good luck on your application. =)

"But Braggins, I was going to have the day off!" The young man's voice edged towards a whine. "Yeah, well, Kyle got sick, so yer running 'is route. Now stop whinning and start stealing purses!" Erick bowed his head slightly and escaped the higher-ranked thief's attentions." Wonderful... and I was going to go search for that girl... I think she... needs me... or someone like me... Erick couldn't fully word out his thought, even to himself, but he somehow felt his destiny was connected with hers. He headed out into his territory as the moon slipped above the buildings, eyes scanning for marks, his single spell blazing in his mind, should he need it, the lesser glows of a few cantrips hovering around it. He remembered something his mage tutor had said. "Trust your gut, lad. Its what you feel that is most often true." OOC: Yeah, its short, but its late. *laughs* Anyway, if you want to introduce me to the party now, I can unsuccessfully try to steal Balladore's pouch, and he can snare me with plants (none of my spells can deal with that, though it would be slightly difficult... Erick has increadible reflexes. =))

*Gyr laughs softly* Or, you become that hero, searching for the fool.

*Gyr smiles and walks up to Damienn* "Since yer the only one left alive, sign here." *he points out the bottom of a *looooonnnng* bill, totaling the damages to his bar- hacked tables, chairs, bar top, blood stain removal from just about everything, lost wine, beer, and other spirits, and then fines for spilling blood and shooting people in the bar in the first place... All in all, it was a *massive* bill.

Deep in the shadows of an alley across from where the armored man A Knight? in this section? Or a down-on-his luck adventurer? Too bad he's probably too poor... in all that armor, he'd never keep up with me. was kneeling next to a small girl, who stared silently at him, clutching a massive (for her) ax. She's covered with blood... gods, wonder what happened? Must have been out of the city, though... don't find many axes that size in the city, and I'd have known if anything had gone down last night... The young man stretched and yawned in the shadows, then slipped off. As he emerged in the cellar of the Thieve's Guild he belongs to, Erick 'Quickfingers', apprentice thief and mage, with black-dyed blond hair and blue eyes, he thought back to the child. I'll have to keep track of her...

Gyrfalcon stared at Timothy quickly, the old man fighting for his life forgotten for a brief instant beneath Gyrfalcon's blood-covered fingers. Kaylera was a few bodies away, tears running down her face as she touched a dying man's face. Gyrfalcon distractedly saw the man… fall asleep? And then expire quietly, face free of pain. "Well?!" Timothy all but shouted, and Gyrfalcon's eyes narrowed. "I hope it is, Timothy, I hope that it can be used for the greatest good, to help as many as-" CRACK! Gyrfalcon screamed a curse as the main brace gave out, and the entire roof came down on them in a hail of wooden splinters and shards and beams, falling slate tiles, and a rain of deadly glass. Timothy gaped upwards, eyes filled with horror as he saw his death approaching. Kaylera flung herself across her patient, and Gyrfalcon bounced to his feet and straddled his patient's chest, hands upraised, face filled with anger and fear. Magic glowed and poured from his hands upward, trying frantically to stop the deadly rain of burning materials. He failed, of course, no magic short of a Power's able to stop such a thing, or an entire guild of wizards. Fireballs blasted some debris, bolts of force tried to deflect or stop other pieces, but almost all of it came onward and smashed downward. Gyrfalcon's last thoughts were of the green fields of his home, New Muriska, in the spring… Gyrfalcon groaned softly as he came to. Beside him, the rubble shifted slightly. He looked around in confusion at the debris covering him up to his shoulders, though he was surrounded by a bubble, roughly six feet across, in which no debris had fallen. He was alive, somehow… gloriously alive! The debris shifted again, and Timothy pushed himself up groggily "What… what happened?" he said. "The Dreamer must have protected us." Gyrfalcon said, looking around to see how long he had been out. Not long, it seemed, just a few minutes. A few fires smoldered here and there, but most had been snuffed out by the roof's collapse. Gyrfalcon rememebered the old man he had been working on, suddenly, and looked down. With a sad look, Gyrfalcon shifted his position, the rubble grating together as the forcefield moved with him, and closed the old man's sightless eyes. Timothy coughed "Wasn't… wasn't a winged women here? She asked for our help saving these…" he coughed again. "These fools." Gyrfalcon nodded "Kaylera is her name. Like us, she is… hopefully not was… searching for the Pool." Then exchanged looks, and Timothy looked at the ruined walls, squinting in the darkness as night fell. "Where was she?" He looked at Gyrfalcon and tried to step back as the half-elf's glowing red orbs looked at him for a moment before scanning the room. "The fires are making this difficult, as are the debris… but I think she was… *there*." He clambered over the pile of rubble and moved purposefully across the shifting stones, balancing easily. Behind him, Timothy was having a harder time of it, but quickly caught up anyway. Gyrfalcon looked around again, this time with his normal vision, and nodded "As good a place as any…" He motioned to Timothy "Give me a hand, will you?" They began to remove debris from what looked to be a mound, and Timothy gasped as his hand flashed through into clear air after only a few stones. He waggled his hand around in the pocket, but it was too large to be natural. "If it isn't… Kaylera? I don't know who…" Gyrfalcon nodded, too winded to say anything, and they shifted the last of the stones off. Beneath was Kaylera, her wings folded inward, huddling over someone. Gyrfalcon dropped into the pocket and shook her shoulder "Kaylera?" He saw who she had protected… a small boy, unharmed except for a scrape on his forehead, and breathing peacefully. "Kaylera?" Gyrfalcon said again, but she didn't stir. He checked quickly and saw that she was deep asleep, an exhausted look on her face. "She must have passed out…" Gyrfalcon said, as he gently pried the little boy out from under her and handed him up to Timothy. Both the boy and Kaylera stirred, but neither cried out. "Here, Timothy… hold onto him, will you?" Gyrfalcon carefully draped one of Kaylera's arms over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist. This allowed him to lift her and keep her wings unobstructed as he lifted her and clambered out of her hollow. When they slowly walked out of the main doors, nearly choked with debris, the would-be rescuers, paladins and those who had awakened and those who had come, fell back and cried out to God for His miracle, saving these four lives. The Dreamer looked on sardonically, knowing it had been his work. Gyrfalcon merely shook his head slowly and let Kaylera down slowly before he fell to his knees, tears running down his face, feeling his sorrow for all those slaughtered.

Gyrfalcon shook his head and felt his mind clear, somewhat. He stopped following the Dreamer out of the door and growled at himself… the fact that he wasn't thinking was no excuse to leave this carnage with so many wounded… the roof above groaned ominously, and Gyrfalcon growled again, at the twin forks of pragmatism and compassion he was trapped in… he could save some of the people, but not all of them… He turned and began to head for the nearest pillar, When the Dreamer caught his arm. "What?" Gyrfalcon asked, but the Dreamer was silent as Gyrfalcon felt the Dreamer's strange magic flow through him and reestablish the forcefield the Dreamer had put around him. Still silently, the Dreamer released Gyrfalcon's arm and disappeared through the main doors, leaving Timothy standing bewildered beside the doors. "Timothy- grab the unconscious ones by the door and get them out of here! When you're done with that, come find me and help me move people out of here." Timothy nodded, and with a grunt, bent down and began to drag a slight nun, overcome by the press of bodies by the door, away from the burning main building. Gyrfalcon, meanwhile, raced to the most necessary pillars he could find in the room, and imbued them with every flame ward he had… too few, unfortuantly, and he reluctantly avoided the eastern wing of the chamber, where there would be few living. As it was, he knew he was only keeping the chamber from collapsing a little longer, and knew that once the crossbeams above burned through, the entire place would probably be coming down. Gyrfalcon knelt next to person after person, methodically checking for a pulse, however faint, breath, however shallow, any sign of life, no matter how dim. However, working in the anti-paladin's wake, he found few such survivors, and all but one breathing their last breathes. He lifted the lone survivor, and old man who had suffered a scalp wound and who had been struck unconscious, and swiftly carried him through the doors, which Timothy had mostly cleared of the unconscious. He noted grimly the embers that drifted down, one nearly smoldering against his bloodied cloak before fizzling out. Gyrfalcon set the old man down outside, and Timothy and he exchanged grim looks as they both hurried in to find more survivors. Both knew it was only a matter of time…

*Gyrfalcon steps forward from the crowd. Unlike many of the others, his face is impassive, and he has not laughed at the angel's words, sensing the sincerity in them.* Greetings, Bhurin. I am Gyrfalcon, the owner of the bar that you are buying drinks from... When you're done with the rounds, come and talk with me and I'll see if I can't lower your bill somewhat... a gift to you, in recognation of your skill in joining this assembly." Gyrfalcon takes a step away and pauses "I hope to read more of your excellent work soon, M'Lord." he bows once and returns to his table, his glass of water, and his writing.

*Gyr pokes this up to the top and wonders if a DM-oriented person would like to try this?* If you need a good system for gaming, Arawn managed to get a RPG-sort of thing pretty far before he left for his writing career (or whatever). Peredhil: I would *so* love if I were in the same area as ye- this sounds like a good starting campaign. =)

Greetings, Bhurin! Congrats on joining, and I liked your poem. =)

Ah... See? I suck as a poem critic. *laughs* BTW, if you haven't checked, there are more responses in the Critic's Corner... I just posted min here for two reasons: 1) So you know at least someone has responded and 2) I had already posted by the time I had remembered the Critic's Corner. *laughs sheepishly*

*Gyrfalcon applauds* My only negative comment is that it seems to switch track partway through, from losing one's home to losing one's love. Nice to see a new poem from ye. =)

Gyrfalcon struggled through the milling crowds towards the doorway. Behind him, fiery prayers of destruction rained down on the screaming, panicked mob that had been a peaceful audience. He heard a few voices rise against the screams of pain, the thin chanting of the few priests who had come to this gathering with spells memorized. So far, they weren't doing a lot of good. Gyrfalcon felt and saw the air haze around him, a dome covering him, and he felt a moments pulse of fear before he recognized it as a defensive spell, though of a weaving the like of which he had never seen before. The dreamer? he wondered, and darted a look in the Dreamer's direction, in time to watch the berserk scarred man decapitate one of the paladins who had been a ceremonial guard for the speech. What the Hells is he doing, and where in the Nine Hells did he get his katana?! Gyrfalcon asked himself. The Dreamer turned, and Gyrfalcon shivered despite himself as the blood-red eyes touched his for a second… in those eyes, Gyrfalcon saw total madness. Gyrfalcon turned back towards the nearest doors, his face grim. People were smashing against them now, the ones closest being crushed against the walls and the door by the mob pressing forward, killing them slowly. I have to open those doors! Gyrfalcon thought, and as he thought he drew on his mana. A simple spell should do it… they don't seem to be magically warded… or at least not against spells. He made a few quick motions and thrust a hand towards the door, and a small ball of light darted towards it, veered towards the locks, and entered through the keyhole. Silently, in the surging noise of the combat behind him and the screaming mob ahead of him, the doors swung outward, and the mob poured through, not bothering to ask how it had happened. Gyrfalcon blinked and his eyes widened as he saw one of the first figures through. That couldn't have been Reyn… there is no way he'd be here. Gyrfalcon told himself, and wheeled around. The Dreamer had killed several more paladins, perhaps believing each was the anti-paladin, perhaps in self defense after he killed the first one. He was closer to the anti-paladin, though, and the armored fiend was cutting a swath towards the Dreamer. On the right side of the chamber, few people moved, mostly trying to find better hiding spots or in their pain from the wounds of magic inflicted upon them. Gyrfalcon remembered the priestess at the same time she unleashed her spell. The forcefield held, for a wonder, but Gyrfalcon was blown clear across the chamber, smashing into the wall rather heavily, despite the forcefield extending in that direction. With a groan, he dropped to his hands and knees, and noted for a brief moment out of his peripheral vision, a young woman hiding in the shadows. Good luck, lady, you'll need it to survive this bunch… Gyrfalcon whispered in his mind as he climbed to his feet and pulled a pair of throwing knives from under his cloak. The forcefield had collapsed under the assault, and Gyrfalcon closed his eyes and chanted as quickly as he could to reestablish his defenses. He managed to shield himself just in time, as a pillar of flames stabbed down at him, to be deflected by his wards. Ha! You might be ready to war, priestess, but a mage can outfight a cleric anytime! Gyrfalcon whispered another spell, and felt layers of magical energy solidify around him. The priestess readied another chant, and Gyrfalcon fell into a spell. They cast at the same time: the priestess raising a pair of skeletons right in front of Gyrfalcon, and Gyrfalcon summoning an ogre and setting it to attack his opponent. The next round of spells created more creatures, a mighty skeleton warrior to fight his ogre, and a trio of gnolls to stop the skeletons who's strikes were slowly wearing away Gyrfalcon's warding spell. Gyrfalcon noticed the priestess was looking bored, and with a growl, launched a flurry of fiery bolts at her, only to watch a warding of her own dissipate them. With a contemptuous laugh, a bolt of lightning blasted from just above Gyrfalcon and nearly pierced his wards, and also slew the gnolls and skeletons. The skeleton warrior and the ogre had killed each other, leaving Gyrfalcon and the priestess facing each other. Was I wrong? I though she had used a lot of her most powerful spells early on, but I've done not a thing to her and she doesn't seem to be having any trouble countering each of my attacks… Even as he thought, the priestess flicked her hands, and a Symbol appeared in front of Gyrfalcon. He had but a moment to admire its jagged edges and strange flow before it exploded in a bright flash… Gyrfalcon smashed into the wall and slumped down, stunned from the symbol. As the last flickers of consciousness escaped from his mind, he noticed dimly that the shadows where the woman was were empty… Hope she got away… safely…

tugging coat more towards the center, face set already decided. I will leave it up to you, dear reader, decide why these words I wrote

*Gyr cheers and applauds Tzimfemme's elevation* You go, girl(s)!