The continent Ilitair is the largest landmass in the world, one of only three continents and as large as the other two combined. It consists of landscapes from deserts to plains to mountains to massive lakes, and is home to human and magickind alike, elves most prevalent of the latter.

It's also, however, a continent torn by nearly two millenia of war. It started as a mild menace, a nuisance to the small, kingdoms to the west...the drow sorcerer Vayen built entirely more military power than he should have been able to. No one really missed the insignificant nations that were swallowed into his borders. It didn't, however stop there. Now, more than twelve hundred years after the larger nations stood up and recognized the threat, the drow nation has swept almost the entire continent. Only the elven stronghold Elentria, the nation covering the upper, opposite corner of the continent, has yet to fall.

---

Ilitair I

---

When they arrive back at the base, Meir'cillus reins in his horse and takes a deep breath. "Felara, I'm going to see about that slave, then I'll see the general in about thirty minutes. Be ready for anything."

She nods, jumping down first and taking his reins. "I'll just be near and on-hand, then, but stay out of your hair unless necessary?"

"However you want," Meir'cillus answers, hopping down as well. "Just keep your eyes open. If Xayu is expecting this tonight, then hostility may strike us first." That said, he walks along the path en route to Therian's tent.

Therian is indeed in her tent...she hadn't been the whole time, though. Actually, hasn't been for long. She's treating a few of her own deep scrapes and gashes and ignoring a good number of serious bruises. She keeps some strips of cloth, as clean as she can manage, tied around her left wrist for this frequently-visited purpose.

"I take it things went badly," Meir'cillus notes as he enters. "You look like hell. Do you need help?"

She shakes her head as she pulls a bandage tight with her teeth, not bothering to try speaking until she spits it out. "I didn't try to pull a knife on him. Haven't gotten a good chance. This is just what that asshole did when I killed a couple of your buffoons because one slapped my ass."

Meir'cillus can't help but grin. "Yeah, I question their judgment too." He sits on his haunches, looking at her. "Change of plans. I've decided to kill him myself, right after I leave this tent." 

Therian's silent a moment, just tying the last bandage. "Why are you telling me this?" He could have much more easily just gone straight to Xayu. If he'd already been dead, fine. If not, all the better.

"I had a meeting with a Serandein summoner tonight. In return for aiding me in destroying Vayen, I am to ensure your safety for them, and for you. But I wanted you to know that." He's not sure why he's telling her, actually. Perhaps because he feels some connection with her, on a base level. Betrayal runs rampant in drow society.

Therian pauses at that, frowning a little and more obviously perturbed than he's seen her before. She doesn't like the unusual, the unpredicted. She doesn't like what she can't explain. The name is familiar, at least...Tymanin had said it, probably. "What is it that they want with me?" she inquires after a few moments, a little quietly.

"I'm told that you know things about Vayen... something about his sorcery that you can help disarm." Meir'cillus tilts his head. "I have no reason to lie to you. Just so you know. But it may become extremely dangerous for you here, very soon."

She shrugs. "The worst goddamned thing that could ever happen to me was ending up back here." She turns her face up towards him. "I'm not afraid anything."

"Then let's give them hell, you and I." The drow warlord turns his back to her. "If you have anything to tell me before I go to Xayu, now is the time. There won't be a tomorrow for this."

"Don't let it go to strict physical combat." She lays down. "He'll kick your ass."

Meir'cillus turns back to her. "You're an assassin, aren't you? I'll take your word for it. Tell me your name."

"Therian."

Meir'cillus nods. "Therian. If it gets out of control, and you need help, call for Felara or Meir'cillus. I am a scumbag for sure, but I promised your safety." The drow lord leaves the tent then, brow creased, thinking. Physical combat is not a problem for him, not really. But his guard will be up. He walks outside, wordlessly heading for Xayu's tent.

Xayu doesn't look up when he walks in, looking over one of Felara's maps. "Don't you ever knock?"

"Not in my own house." Meir'cillus walks up to the table, glancing at the map while silently gathering his power behind his fingertips. Not yet. "Looking for something in particular?"

"Examining your progression through the area. Your little human secretary keeps good notes."

Meir'cillus can't help but laugh. "Yes, but don't call her human. It just pisses her off." He gazes down at the map, thinking. "General. I've heard a rumor that I believe was started by the enemy, possibly to set us against one another. Tell me, what do you know of Lord Vayen's operations in my homeland, Ionnya?"

"There was a riot against General T'serkon's troops when they passed through the capital, bound for the port. It was put down." The flat, uncaring tone doesn't continue for elaboration.

"I heard the temple was demolished," Meir'cillus presses a little further, "is that true?"

"The militants that survived fled to the temple and claimed 'sanctuary,' true cowards who refused to stand for the end result of their treachery. The High Priestess, though, honored their claim and refused to allow any soldiers in to remove the miscreants and make them the examples they had to be. She raised a shield around the temple that T'serkon found his wizards unable to cope with." The general sips a glass of water, brow creasing as he loses the map's progression, but then figures it out again. "After thirteen days of this silliness, an army being held aside by a woman, Lord Vayen saw it fit to go to Gerionay to intervene, himself. He crushed the shield and everything in it like so many eggshells." He runs a finger thoughtfully though a big of condensation on the side of his glass. "Your treasury will be reimbursed."

"And the priestess...?"

"She chose to oppose Lord Vayen. She chose to die."

Meir'cillus bites his lip, fighting his fury even as blood runs down his chin. "General," he quietly says, "there can be no reimbursement. Farewell." Before the last word leaves his throat, Meir'cillus's power flares outward in a bubble around his body, the stale stench of antimatter so potent that it nearly chokes him as the blood on his chin dissolves.

The scream that breaks from Xayu's throat is brief, fueled by pain and utter surprise but cut by stubborn willpower. He leaps back with truly stunning speed, staying just ahead of the field, but not before losing half an arm and a chunk of his right foot. "You traitorous worm...!" He flings a shortsword at Meir'cillus's chest even as he bellows, knowing full well he has to cut the field before he has nowhere to move to.

Metal... move! Meir'cillus jinks right, the field dissolving as his concentration breaks, but he does manage to avoid the shortsword. Xayu's moved far enough away that he doesn't need to fear instant reprisals, but there isn't time. The antimatter begins to build again behind his fingertips, fueled by hatred more pure than anything he's ever known. "Don't scream. Don't run. Stand and face the results of your loyalty." His right hand moves to the shortsword, his left held up. He doesn't know how well Xayu knows his power. He's sure, though, that he's about to find out.

Xayu, his eyes afire raw anger and the bitter hatred that he can call to the surface or banish at will, has moved just behind the thrown weapon, speed nearly unnatural. One sword lashes at Meir'cillus's outstretched wrist, flat first, trying to break and shove it aside before any magic can follow, the other blade flashing around and seeking to slice the other drow in half.

The slap of steel on skin just precedes the crunch of bone, but no cry of pain escapes the warlord's lips. In fact he can hardly see Xayu at all. Only those eyes, those haunting Priestess eyes fill his sights, eyes that he will never see again. The sword breaker rises to block the other blade, twisting to perform its named duty against Xayu's sword.

The general's hand looses, dropping it and letting it be flung aside. His other sword lurches up at a steep angle, destined for the base of Meir'cillus's jaw, but it freezes abruptly. Felara. Xayu swears, jerking at it once but ramming his well-armored knee towards Meir'cillus's at the same moment to buy time.

Meir'cillus takes a quarter step back, the swordbreaker turning at an angle. He rams it downward, not yet looking for a kill, but aiming the serrated blade squarely towards his superior officer's lower thigh. This is taking too long...

Xayu jerks his lower body, that both legs shift...the swordbreaker knicks his inner thigh and little more. His left fist balls, falls back, and then careens for Meir'cillus's gut. He's no longer going for a quick kill. He's confident now that he has the sorcerer where he wants him. Now it's time for pain. The opposite knee jerks up towards the hand holding the swordbreaker.

Meir'cillus knows enough to know that he's going to get hit. His hand relaxes, letting the swordbreaker drop to the ground and a short, loosely controlled burst of antimatter crackle from his hand. It'll have perhaps six inches of range but... hopefully enough to burn up any approaching knees.

And that it does well...Xayu hadn't been ready for it. His cry this time isn't clipped, but it's impossible to tell where the pain ends and the rage begins. He can't stand anymore, not well...that had been his better leg, the one with the intact foot. His hand jerks upward as he falls, though, snatching the shorter drow by the hair and flinging him towards the ground, planting the bladed edge of one gloved finger at the warlord's throat and struggling to help momentum keep it there, a moment away from pulling it back to fatal end. "Idiot! Presumptious, weak, shortsighted fool! You really thought that you could get away with betraying Lord Vayen? Traitors always find justice! Ponder your mistake in..." the tent wall against his back jerks, and his voice cuts off quite suddenly, eyes wide. The hand goes limp.

The general closes them after a moment, grinning even as a rivulet of blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. It's a strange expression, really. Resigned, amused...maybe even a little proud. So it had been her kill after all. He'd always know it would be. A moment later, he collapses, a neat stab wound in his back.

Something rubs the tent wall twice, and is gone. And then it's quiet.

Meir'cillus pulls himself to his feet, bleeding, angry, and short some hair. But alive, anyway.

Felara. Xayu's dead. The slave, Therian, can't have gotten far yet. Find her, make sure she isn't planning on leaving without us.

The warlord glances at the fallen general. Antimatter wells behind his good hand, and even though he feels slightly cheated, he does smile at what needs to be done. Evidence is a very bad thing.

Felara looks up from where she's standing, startled, but nods from habit, taking off around the other side of the tent at a quick clip. She narrows her eyes, glances at the blood that had been wiped on the side of the tent, and down to the ground. There had been blood on one of the assassin's feet, but...a dragged foot there, and it was gone. It's only a few moments before she losing a physical trail and, swearing inwardly, stalks down the path for Therian's tend. Sure enough, the slave's there as though she'd never moved.

Meir'cillus lets the wave of sorcery flow out of Xayu's body, dissolving it with the barest of sounds. Only the general's clothes and swords remain... and Meir'cillus gathers the swords into the crook of his arm and tucks them under his cloak. He takes his swordbreaker back up, kicks the clothes into the corner behind a barrel, and heads out, en route to Therian's tent, just in case she'd returned there. It's what he would've done after such a silent kill.

Felara's waiting about halfway there, leaning against a pole with her arms folded. "I can't prove she did it. It's the obvious conclusion. But I can't prove she did it."

"It means she knows what she's doing. But we need to get out of sight," he holds up his broken hand, "and I need to see her. Come." He walks along past her, skin still smarting and generally hurting all over, heading still for the tent.

Felara nods.

Therian's lying down, still or again. She takes a moment to acknowledge the pair when they walk in. "Limp a little louder, you almost sound healthy," she croaks.

"I fake it very well. Positions of power require it." Meir'cillus produces Xayu's swords and tosses them rather unceremoniously at the foot of the bed. "Spoils. If you made the kill, they belong to you."

She just shrugs, sitting up but not moving to take them. She doesn't seem particularly happy, considering the circumstances. "So now what?"

"I didn't think that far ahead. I imagine that Xayu will go unnoticed for a while... I didn't leave any evidence. But leaving would not be a bad idea either. What do you think, Felara?"

"For awhile, yeah...but Xayu's little detachment is gong to notice before too long that their commander's gone. Any way we can peg him as heroically captured as elves or something?"

"No."

Felara's more than a little annoyed at being second-guessed so easily by an especially mangy human, and it shows. "Pardon?"

Therian raises her head just a little. "He wouldnt' have gone off on some mission alone. He just leads big groups. Likes...liked... being in charge. He would have gotten one of the other drow to scout or me to pull any assassination that wasn't a suicide mission. It won't work."

"That's another trait of powerful people." Meir'cillus grins a bit. "Save your own skin first. I don't want to have to kill his whole detachment, though I'm sure that we could if it became necessary." Honestly, he's stuck. "Think of our options, ladies. A fake ransom note might work, especially assuming that I disappeared as well. Or perhaps it could be blamed on the summoner that wiped out my battalion the other day."

Felara scowls lightly at Therian, but looks back to Meir'cillus and continues. "We need you still visible...our soldiers are more loyal to you than to Vayen for the most part, and we're going to need them to know you're intact and so be ready to follow." She's quiet for a moment, thinking. "What if we deployed a couple of companies on some generic task, and then approach Xayu's troops with news that our dear general had ridden off with them, leaving orders that they follow? Except, of course, that we would give a completely different location and mission, askew enough to keep them sidetracked for...what did the elf say? Nine days?"

"Would Xayu's grunts believe that their general trusted my company enough to go out alone with them?"

"Probably not." Felara sighs. "Do we have any illusionists left who are good enough to impersonate him?"

"I don't know," Meir'cillus admits, sitting on the floor. "I haven't done a head count. Too busy with Xayu and Serandeins."

"Damn elves. Complicate everything." Felara sighs again, and sits down as well. "Well. Let's recap. The highest general in Vayen's enemy is dead. The idiots travelling with him aren't going to take orders from anyone else, their own damned pride. And they're probably damnably loyal to Vayen, too, if Xayu was any indication. We're going to be here for at least several more days." She looks at Therian. "Well. If you're so smart, you figure it out."

Therian just shrugs, saying nothing. She's good at planning one-person actions. She couldn't care less about this shit. And, really, she couldn't be more uncomfortable than she is now, these two so easily hanging around discussing strategy around her. Xayu's death, aside from the elation she should logically feel, has her quite pissed. And, to top all, she really has no idea what in the hell will happen to her next.

Meir'cillus is quietly watching Therian, listening to her breathing. "You don't know how to feel, Therian, do you." He looks up, surprised at his own words. "You're scared, and that scares you, because you've lived one way, with one goal, for a long time. With that goal out of the way, you are out of your comfort zone. You ask, 'then what' but no one answers." He blinks. Waits.

Therian jerks her head up to him very suddenly, truly, deeply startled, and then looks down and aside, cheeks coloring. She refuses to answer. Wouldn't know what to say, anyway.

"When I killed my family, I felt the same way." The drow lord's eyes narrow slightly. "Worthless bastards, all of them, but they filled my dreams for the future for a long time. After they were dead, I felt lost... until I found a new goal. And then another. And now the biggest, most dangerous, most exciting goal of all." He smiles, ear to ear despite the pain that courses through his body. "I'm going to bring down the most dangerous man on the face of the planet. Therian... you can share in that goal."

Felara just listens quietly, both taken aback and intrigued by--and, all told, probably just a little disgusted with--the drow's apparent sense of empathy. The "killed my family" part redeems him a bit.

Therian scowls, silent for a minute, fiddling with the dagger that had ended Xayu's life. Meir'cillus may have won that fight. Probably not. But that bastard had been hers to kill. "I've tried. Time and again. It can't be done. I'll give your elf friends what they need to know. But when it comes down to it, it won't work. That bastard doesn't die."

Meir'cillus's smile fades. "Everything dies. Cycle of life, and all that. Vayen can't escape any more than you or I."

"Escape it?" Therian laughs without amusement. "I'm human. I'm more than a thousand years old. I'd have killed myself before I was thirty if I were physically capable of that. How's that for 'escape'?" She frowns and leans back. "Vayen does that too. All that time, I've been watching him, since the big nations barely even noticed him, and let him just have the rest of us..." she scowls and gets back on track. "I've seen damnably powerful sorcerers go up against him, ambushes, assassination attempts so damnably well-planned that Xayu had them catalogued after, whole armies turned aside like little kids with sticks...that last time...damnit, there was no way he could have gotten away that last time." One cheek twitches severely. She's very nearly in a flashback mode...apparently the Serandein's "if she's still sane" qualifier hadn't be entirely misplaced. "Nothing kills him. Nothing."

"I promise you, like I promised Felara. We'll win or we'll die. And if Vayen doesn't plan to kill you when we fail, I'll do it myself. As a favor." He looks down at his hand, at the antimatter swirling in a tiny ring around his index finger. "Nothing survives my magic. Its only purpose is to kill, not to distract, or frighten, to kill."

Therian's expression is blank again, though still mildly perturbed. She runs the tip of the dagger thoughtfully through the palm of her hand, watching the blood and calmed by the pain in a truly sadistic but very real way. "Maybe." She doesn't know yet. Just...doesn't know anything.

"Felara," Meir'cillus stands, growling against the pain he still feels, "we need a tremendous ruckus. Tear that tent apart. Mine too. Scatter some arrows around the area." He smiles. "Serandein. Xayu has just become a martyr."

"Fair enough." Felara stands and leaves to gather what she needs. Then she'll get to play. And probably shoot a few random people. Just for realism, of course.

Therian brushes a thumb quietly through the blood on her palm, keeping her attention quite on that. All told, she's still not pleased with Meir'cillus for seeing straight through her so easily. Only Tymanin had been able to do that. And this drow isn't Tymanin.

Meir'cillus glances again at Therian. "Though I know it wasn't for my sake, my honor suggests that I thank you for intervening."

She shrugs. "It was...a good opportunity. Best I've had." Which, of course, Meir'cillus had set up. Therian walks on her knees over to the foot of the bed, groping over the edge until her fingertips pat Xayu's sword. She wraps her fingers gingerly around the hilt, hand shaking slightly. "Been smacked with this thing so fucking many times..." her voice trails off. "Thanks for giving me the swords."

"Sure." The drow lord doesn't mention that it wasn't an act of kindness. But she did earn them. And so much more subtly than he would have. "I need to go and bind my wounds. Rest if you can. All hell is liable to break loose tomorrow. Oh," he pauses, a thought striking him, "you can always sense my magic by scent. It smells heavily of iron. If you detect it... evade at all costs. There are no half-assings with antimatter."

Therian nods with apparently characteristic divided interest--or divided disinterest-- much of her attention on the sword now.

Meir'cillus leaves without another word. Let her to her problems... they certainly aren't his.

The warlord heads straightway for the medical tent, smiling. He takes a deep breath before stumbling inside, letting his broken hand stretch out before him.

"... get the supplies together," he growls, a tortured growl, to those inside, "the base is under attack. The General..."

The surgeon most nearly on hand stiffens, eyes wide. He nods once to a medic who goes running in another direction. "Lord Yerosyn, let's see to your hand...the general what?"

Meir'cillus brushes off the help for his hand. "His tent was raided, he's gone. The same people who ambushed his caravan in the mountains. We've lost men already..." if Felara's doing her job right, "... get ready to evacuate if need be." 

The surgeon nods. There's a flurry of panicked activity outside when a volley of elven arrow rains over an entire section of the camp. Over a ridge, Felara's sitting with a crate of arrows that had been confinscated from an Elentrian armory. It pays to have all the records. Still, it's taking most of her power to do this. She takes a deep breath against increased pain, and prepares for another volley.

Meir'cillus turns and leaves the tent, shouting something about going to scramble the troops. 

Once outside, he makes a beeline for the barracks where Xayu's grunts are stationed. Scene two begins now.

"Form up, every last one of you! Where are your ears and eyes? Your general has been attacked!"

"Ugh...what?" There's a general ruckus, soldiers jumping up and getting to their feet quickly, pulling on boots or whatnot. "What's happened?" "Is the general okay?" "What's going on?"

Meir'cillus doesn't give an answer. He's having a hard enough problem with arrows raining around him, but at least it means that the ruse will be accurate. Felara, if you can hear me... you'll have to kill the gate guards.

It takes her a little while to register that she'd heard it. She nods unnecessarily when she does, face somewhat strained for exertion, and, not thirty seconds later, both guards are struck dead.

Xayu's men are getting ansier by the moment. "What of General Xayu?" The highest-ranking of them finally demands, the same major Meir'cillus had encountered before.

"They raided his tent. He's not there now, I only encountered the tail of their unit." Meir'cillus stares at him, unblinking. "Form your men up and lets scour the mountains."

The major nods, face serious, and turns to the unit, shouting a few orders. The drow, all somber-faced, hurry into a proper formation, armed and ready to go.

Felara. The drones are on the way. Get yourself out of there and hold tight until we can figure a way to get moving.

Meir'cillus glances at the major. "I don't need to tell you what to do with your mean. But find him."

The major nods. Within a couple of minutes, the unit is gone.

Felara returns maybe twenty minutes later, looking as though she hasn't slept in about three months. "Ugh...that sucked so much. Now what?"

"You look like shit. Rest for a little while, while I think." He really isn't sure what to do now. "The plan has been executed. Now they'll either figure it out, or they won't. If they do, I'm certain that you, I, Therian, and our troops can kill them off easily enough. If they don't, I need to figure a way to blame all this on Vayen."

"Ever the charmer, and right...ugh...think your elf friends have another message for you, back shortly." Felara sighs, and is off again, back with just a scroll-bound arrow this time. "At least we know they're paying attention."

"I figured you'd appreciate candor more than flattery." He glances at the scroll. "What does it say?"

"Something about your being a well-polished asshole, but that may be my imagination. The rest said something about their being ready to move all of us on to Ionnya, and meeting with you to discuss the details."

"Such a change of plans?" Meir'cillus scratches his head in thought. "The summoner said nine days."

Felara shrugs. "First, I don't think that guy's the summoner, just a military commander, and secondly...nine days is when we need to be there, or the elf said we need to be there. Maybe it takes that time to travel, for some reason?"

"I don't know. But if you don't smell a trap, then it must be alright." Meir'cillus looks around at the camp, thinking. "With or without the troops I wonder?"

"I got the impression of 'with'...but your guess is as good as mine on that bit. This meeting's at the same time and place as the first...think they'd find somewhere closer, damnit."

"Then we'll wait for Xayu's troops to return. Tell me, though, Felara, how do we blame this on Vayen?" The warlord smiles at her, though he really doesn't feel like smiling. "He's a much bigger fish than Xayu, but I don't feel like letting him off the hook."

"Good question." She frowns a little, sitting down. "It's a complicated problem to deal with so quickly, though I'm sure we'll manage. Why the sudden vendetta, though? I've known that ambition was there a long time, but I never expected you to move against him any time in the near future. And I'm not usually wrong about stuff like that."

Meir'cillus gazes upon her a moment, thinking. She might hate him for the truth. But then, he did basically cause a war over it...

"All right. You deserve to know, anyway." His eyes close a moment. "A while back I was a king. Lord Yerosyn of Ionnya, a title acquired through the murder of my family. Although in fairness, I was protecting myself. Anyway... time passed, things were rough in the country... and I met someone. A cleric... High Priestess of our temple. She stirred something within me that I couldn't understand, back then." He looks away for a moment, eyes unfocused with rising fury. "Because I didn't understand, the love that I bore for this woman only produced difficulty, so much that I ended up leaving Ionnya over it." He looks back at her, eyes absolutely blazing. "I was informed tonight that she... is no longer among the living. At Vayen's hand."

Felara closes her eyes. Really, it's ninety percent feigned sympathy...she'd thought that Meir'cillus was more logical than this. The other ten...intrigue at otherwise sane people being driven to this, and maybe the barest bit of true sympathy. "I see. Well. That's as good as a reason as any. I'm sorry for your loss."

The warlord's anger fades a bit. "No you aren't. You probably think I was out of my skull. But she did not deserve to die. Vayen does. So I'll kill him."

She doesn't deny that, abandoning the act. "Fair enough. Solves my problems, too. So. Blaming this on Vayen. Blaming this on Vayen and proving that to Xayu's whores. Hm..."

Meir'cillus's eyes narrow. "I say we present the idea to them. We tell them that Vayen obviously sent them to try and smoke out the one who wiped out the battalion the other day, used them all including their general as scapegoats. And it worked. If they don't believe us, we kill them down to the last shield-bearer."

"Fair enough. I'll let you do the talking...they won't listen to a human, let alone a female human, and I suck at convincing people of things, anyway."

"Oh, you can be convincing when you have a blade to someone's throat," Meir'cillus counters. "Now we just have to wait."

"Violence is the ultimate mediator."

---

A few hours later, Meir'cillus finds himself up again, this time sitting upon a horse not far from the entrance to camp as he awaits the arrival of Xayu's porchwhore troops.

The scouts had been right...they arrive back before too long, irked and discouraged. The major looks up when he sees Meir'cillus. "Have you found anything?"

"Only a few dozen arrows. No bloodstains or signs of a struggle except within the General's tent, either." He glances at the major, letting irritation shine in his eyes. "What do you think about it?'

"We found nothing. Not so much as a trail gone dead...nothing." The major narrows his eyes a little. "All told, all evidence points more closely to a culprit within the camp than one outside of it, and it's quite convenient that all of us were immediately dispatched." Except Xayu's slave. If he can control her enough to make her talk--and really, how hard can that be?--then she probably knows something.

"I sent you to find your general. Would you have really listened to me if I had commanded you to sit on your thumbs and wait?" Meir'cillus's expression doesn't change. But still the sorcery begins to boil behind his eyes... preparing. This major has displayed shocking competance in every aspect of his position, and so the time for games and underestimation has ended.

"No. But had you not been so abrupt that we had no time to think, some would have remained here." It's all clearer in retrospect.

"I apologize. The abductors didn't send a goddamned stationary card with the time and date of the event." The warlord reined in his horse and hopped down, stepping to within a half-inch of the major's face. "If you have something specific to say, then say it. If you don't, then I have better things to do, like find your wayward boss."

"I'd say that you already know where he is." The accusation's clear as day, and the Major's eyes are cold.

Meir'cillus's irritation dissipates. He stares down the officer, his face revealing nothing. "Is this how all of you feel?"
Felara. I don't know if I feel like trying to lie my way out of this. What do you say to a little warmup for Vayen's forces?

There seems to be no response for a few moments, while the major's eyes narrow at Meir'cillus's marked lack of the expected denial. Then, in the narrow-esque space between the two drow, silver flashes. The major, with a startled, angry cry, tries to jerk back, but his breath catches in his throat when a deep, soon-to-be-fatal gash is carved across his torso. The spinning blur of a weapon arches into the air, ready to head back to its owner.

The drow warlord takes that as a maybe. His one good hand, loaded to the absolute brim with his one-note sorcery, lifts to chest level and releases in a swift, short range flash.

There's a stunned stillness. Xayu's regiment very nearly attacks berserker-style but two fast-acting Captains put themselves between, shouting orders to stay back and making no secret of pointing out how stupid it will be to charge Meir'cillus right in front of his entire army. One of them looks to the former Lord Yerosyn, narrowing his eyes. "At least that mystery's cleared up." He doesn't say more, waiting tensely to see what happens next.

"You still don't know anything," Meir'cillus growls at them. "Vayen sent your entire unit into this area to draw out a few pocket resistance units. Such an incredible shock it was that your caravan was assaulted completely by surprise in the mountains, was it?"

"It happens. But General Xayu is the one who almost always orchestrates it. We're too valuable a unit to just throw to the wind."

"And you've done so well." Meir'cillus shrugs, eyes still held forward. "If you don't want to believe me, fine. But if you don't, and I let you leave, then I'm sure you'll just run to Vayen and swear that the mean old warlord murdered your general. You see my dilemma."

"And you really think he doesn't know that already, huh?"

"You're probably right. Alright then, you'd better try to kill me yourself." Meir'cillus steps back, his sorcery welling once again. "If you don't kill me, I'm going to kill you."

The officer grits his teeth lightly, taking a defensive step back. "What about the rest of them? They're good soldiers. They don't deserve to die by betrayal."

"Don't you talk to me about who deserves to die!" Meir'cillus catches himself, but the outburst is finished.  He grits his teeth. "I cannot let them go. It would be a risk to me, and I won't have it. Vayen won't forgive me for Xayu, so the only obvious choice for me is to destroy him as well. They would complicate the matter."

The officer narrows his eyes, mind racing. "Wait...you're from Ionnya, aren't you? This is about the mob...."

"No. This about the cleric that sheltered them and died for it." Meir'cillus expression changes then. Every last trace of emotion is gone, replaced by a stone cold glare that's chilling even by his standards.

The officer takes a fully involuntary step back. "You don't need to kill us," he states finally, quietly.

"Don't I?" Felara, your thoughts?

She approaches after maybe fifteen seconds. "Do you really want to know my thoughts on killing a bunch of random people?" she muses. She's not nearly telepathic to project back, just to pick things up, but he knows that. "I think, for now..." she looks at the captain... "it would be nice to know what they know about troop placement." Specifically, the one they need to meet coming through Ionnya.

Meir'cillus nods. "Time to chat. I have a few favors for your officers to do, and you can tell us a thing or two. In the meantime I will explain my cause to you... I do not want you to go into this half-heartedly. Either follow me, or destroy me."

"One or the other. After this is explained." The captain glances to the other, who nods. He'll take care of the unit if the first has to leave for more privacy. He looks back to Meir'cillus.

"You'd better ask the questions." Meir'cillus crosses his arms. "It'll be easier on both of us."

The captain pauses a moment, then speaks. "The obvious one is just what you think you're going to accomplish here. Lord Vayen has many times your troops spread through the continent, at least three times near the fortress alone. Whatever your reasons for betraying him are, this seems a fool's errand."

"I'm going to kill him." Meir'cillus just shrugs. "I'm not afraid of troops, either. I am an army on my own, and I have help. However, I need to get into Ionnya to reach that help."

There's a pause at that. "What's so important in Ionnya? It's not exactly the most significant of nations...."

"There's a rumor I have to check. I can't tell you anything else until I'm sure that you won't knife me in the back as soon as you get a chance." 

"Knifing you in the back doesn't seem very sound in terms of self-preservation," the captain observes dryly.

"Now you're catching on." Meir'cillus glances at the other officer. "There is an Elentrian prince being held in a marked tent down this path. Escort him to the healers, and then have him set free with provisions. I have no more need of him. If he wishes to come with us, then bring him to me. We must all begin preparing to set out for Ionnya."

Xayu's captain is silent for a few moments before finally nodding, and simply walks off to carry out the order. He knows that will say a lot, leaving his compatriot to talk to the men.

Felara's quiet. This is where it turns serious. She helps all organizations and appropriate leadership the next few days--from getting all straight with the elves to convincing the soldiers of that to technical planning--but stays quite somber until Meir'cillus's entire army is moved neatly within the borders of Ionnya.