Christol watched as the arrow Flim loosed sailed through the air. It seemed to take an eternity before it finally landed. As it landed, Christol watched as the arrow ignited nearby hay bales, causing a fire to erupt, engulfing everything in a small area. Flim actually did it. Huh. I didn’t think he had it in him. Must’ve been one hell of a lucky shot. Well, at least it worked. Christol and the group continued to watch as the guards began to shout and run towards the now growing flames. As the guards approached the flames, an explosion rocked Christol’s ears. Flim and Cruu began to run, and Christol snapped out of his daze and followed them.

“Go!” Artuck shouted, pushing Mitrax to follow the group. More guards began to spill out of the encampment and run towards the fire, and the group ran behind them into the encampment.

As Christol followed the group inside, they soon came face to face with three guards. They look extremely young, and the black armor they wore looked a size too large on them. Christol watched as their eyes widened at the group’s entrance.

“Intru–” one of the guards began to speak before Artuck was on him, plunging a small dagger into the side of the soldiers’ head.

“Did you all want a bigger problem?” Artuck asked, perplexed.

As if on cue, more guards began emerging from one of the buildings, and Cruu sprinted towards them, and began to engage the four guards. One of the original three guards lunged towards Flim, taking him to the ground as he grunted.

“Afraid to fight, young one?” One of the guards said, tauntingly. Christol looked away from Flim towards the guard who spoke, and the guard was in front of Christol, sword drawn, and a devilish smirk on his face.

“I’ve never gotten to kill before, surely this opportunity will be an easy one,” the guard said, swinging his sword with untrained flourishes. An arrogant prick? Surely there must be more humble guards in Alteran. I won’t kill him, but I’ll try to at least disarm him and end this fight. 

Christol put his hands in front of his face, readying himself for an attack. Suddenly, the guard swung his sword, aiming for Christol’s throat. He narrowly dodged the shimmering blade, and the guard adjusted his feet as he readied another swing. 

Acting in a moment of haste, Christol threw a fist towards the guard’s stomach, to which the guard swung his sword in return. Christol saw the sword, and grabbed the guard’s wrist as his fist connected with his opponent, who gasped as the air left his body. The guard collapsed onto the ground, clutching his stomach. As Christol stood there, he realized he now held the guard’s sword. 

“Don’t bother getting up. I won’t kill you, but I can’t say the same for my friends,” Christol said, plunging the sword into the cobblestone ground right next to the guard’s head.

As he looked around, Christol watched Mitrax laugh maniacally as he shot another line of light into another guard, sending him off his feet and sprawling onto the ground. Mitrax’s eyes weren’t even on his enemies as he cast his spells, as he was too busy looking up at the moon. The guard on the ground attempted to stand, but Mitrax threw another line of light at him, and Christol heard a crack as the guard returned to the floor, and the guard stayed there, lying motionless.

Artuck was fighting three men at once, and doing so with an agility Christol envied. Artuck swiftly caught a guard’s arm, and sent the sword the guard was holding into one of his comrades, who let out a scream of terror, before Artuck cast a beam of light in his face, immediately silencing him. The other guard, whom Artuck was not holding, dropped his sword and pulled out two daggers, before jumping towards Artuck, who grew a tail and simply smacked him away. The guard who was grappled began to look more and more frightened by the moment, and Artuck took the arm he was holding, and used the sword the guard still clutched to slice off the arm that held the blade, and it fell to the ground with a squishy noise Christol didn’t like. Artuck then shifted his head into that of a dragonborn and breathed flames on the now armless guard, who fell to the ground and attempted to roll, in a desperate effort to put out the fire. The dagger-wielding guard stood back up and ran back towards Artuck. I gotta say, I commend these guys on their determination, even as they watch their comrades fall. Artuck snagged the sword from the now crispy guard and allowed the charging guard to run himself through on the blade, causing him to drop the daggers he was holding, and Artuck shushed the guard down to the ground, where he remained.

Meanwhile, Cruu had been using his large sword to defend himself from the onslaught of guards that dared to defy him.

“For Allys!” The little goblin yelled as he beheaded two guards with one swing of his blade.  The third guard who was there watched the heads fall to the ground, and back up defensively. Cruu simply walked towards him, sheathing his blade and holding up his fists. The guard continued to back up, and as Christol blinked, he saw Cruu unleash a fury of punches on the guard, his arms moving so fast, Christol couldn’t keep track of them. And in a mere second, the guard fell.

Christol turned his attention to Flim, who was fighting two guards. The first guard swung his blade at Flim, who struck him under the arm, causing the blade to fall out of the guard’s hand. The other guard pulled out his daggers and assumed a fighting stance.

Flim grabbed the sword as it fell, and sliced open the first guard, who fell, screaming. Flim dropped the sword as he made eye contact with the second guard, and pulled out his own dagger. Flim watched as the two men wrestled their respective opponent’s weapons free from their hands, and yet, Flim lost his dagger, to which he grabbed the guard’s wrists, who spun them in a circle and cut Flim’s hands with his daggers. Yelling, Flim let go of the guard and stumbled backwards. The guard didn’t give him a moment to catch his breath, however, as he immediately lunged towards Flim.

Flim! Oh no! I… must… save him! Christol bloated towards the guard, and as he ran, Christol watched as everything around him froze. The time freeze thing again? At least this’ll help me get to Flim before it’s too late. Christol ran to Flim, and grabbed the dagger he had dropped, and ran to a frozen Flim, who had been falling onto his back as time stopped. The guard was like a pouncing cat, as he was mid jump when time froze. Christol closed his eyes, and pushed the dagger into the chest of the frozen guard attacking Flim, yet it didn’t pierce his skin. Do physical attacks not work here? Wait, what if I left the blade here, and when time starts again, the guard will fall on the blade? Ah, but Flim will die too. Wait a second. Christol left the dagger floating in front of the guard’s chest and simply grabbed the daggers out of the guard's hands, leaving nothing but two empty fists in its place. Christol threw the daggers, which froze as soon as they left his hands.

As Christol began to walk away, time resumed, and he watched as the guard fell on the blade he had left, giving Flim a solid punch to the face, and the daggers the guard previously held clattered to the ground. Flim pushed the bleeding, dying guard off of him, and looked towards Christol, his eyes wider than a full moon.

“Did… you do this?” Flim asked, eagerly. Christol smiled at Flim before nodding.

“W-wow, I didn’t know you could do that! All I know is one moment I saw the guard with knives in his hands and the next they were on the floor! That’s mighty impressive, Christol.” Flim smiled excitedly.

“Alright, that’s pretty much everyone, I think,” Artuck said, pushing the last guard’s body onto a pile of bodies as tall as he was.

A door creaked on the opposite side of the encampment, and out of the building stepped a dark elf, donned in the black armor, but he had no sleeves to protect his arms. Three swords of various shapes and lengths sat in their sheaths at his hip, one of them glowing a soft green color. His face looked like it had once been gentle, but had since lost its youthful glow, as his face now bore evidence of scars from some fight long ago. His cloudy white hair was tied back into a braided ponytail, one of his pointed ears missing their point.

“Not quite, sadly. Surely you didn’t think it would’ve been that easy, now did you, Artuck?” The elven man smirked, and Christol winced as he looked at him. Surely that must’ve been painful. But wait. Isn’t he the guy who was there at that speech Haldore gave the other day? I guess it makes sense though as to why he’s here. Use the best to train the worst. And he looks like one tough opponent. Christol watched as Artuck tensed up as he looked at the dark elf.

“Long time, no see, Artuck. It’s been, what? Two hundred years now?” The elf picked at his nails as he spoke.

“Last time I saw you, you had a look of defeat on your face as you ran away from daddy. Surely your brothers must think so highly of you right now, eh?” the elf chuckled at his own devilish sarcasm. Christol watched as Artuck balled his fists.

“It has been two hundred years, Malrik. What on Alteran are you doing here in Halden? I thought Haldore gave you a new post over at Pointe’s keep. Was I wrong to assume such things?” The dark elf, now known as Malrik, smiled his painful smirk again.

“How naive of you, Artuck. To assume Haldore would give such strange orders. You see, when those two,” Malrik pointed straight at Christol, and then to Flim as he spoke, “disappeared, by the work of some ‘masked man,’ the locals said, Haldore knew what was happening. You see, Artuck, you have not been as hidden as you think you were. Haldore has known that you have been here for the past two hundred some years.” Malrik began to walk around the encampment, stepping on the fallen bodies as if they weren’t there, as he continued.

“Haldore told me not to kill you. He said he wanted to see how far you could get with your little plan. Even today, I was told not to kill you. Or any of you. Haldore wants to see your potential. He wants to watch you grow. So I am not here to kill you. No, no. I am here only to serve as the messenger for his Majesticness, my lord Haldore.” Artuck slowly began to pull out his sword, but Malrik appeared by him, within the blink of an eye, and pushed his hand down, putting the blade away.

“No, Artuck. I will not fight you. Not today, at least. And I will enjoy the day we finally get to fight. Ah, the pride Haldore will feel when I crush you all. But I want a fair fight, too. I don’t want to crush you now, when you’re all at your weakest. I want a challenge, a fair fight.”

“So then,” Mitrax said, interrupting Malrik’s monologue, “why are you still here?”

“Good point, dragon. By the way, I single handedly slaughtered a thousand of your people. If you think back to the legends of your people, perhaps you’ll remember my name.” Christol watched as Mitrax stared at the ground before his eyes widened and he looked up at Malrik.

“Yep. That, my dear rival, was me. Now, Before I forget, Haldore’s message. What was it,” Malrik placed a finger on his chin before pointing it upwards.

“Ah! That’s what it was.” Malrik cleared his throat, and his eyes rolled back into his head, and they heard Haldore’s voice speak through Malrik.

“To Artuck: know that no matter where you run to, I will see you. I will know where you are. But I will not kill you. Your brother’s deaths will not be in vain. I will make sure of that. I want the people to see that they are free to try, but they will ultimately be defeated. Just the same as you and your band of ‘warriors.’

“To Artuck's ‘warriors:’ You all will die. I will make sure of it. You all are following in Artuck’s mistakes, and those are his and his alone to atone for. Do not make the same mistake he has made. Should you all continue, and I know you will, I will allow the people of Alteran to kill you all themselves.

“To Christol: I hope to see what you can do. These are trying times, after all, and I want to see if you can grow and harness the magical prowess within you.” Malrik stopped to clear his throat, and his eyes rolled back into place, and he smiled a big, toothy grin.

“Ah! One last thing,” Malrik said, still grinning.

“Good luck.”