[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/OBtAKia.png[/img][/center] [b][u]Cuttersbury - Trail towards Drych Lake[/u][/b] When Trixie ran between the electricity and water mages to grab Quentin's hands, Quentin started laughing. She seemed a bit small to be a Guilder, but what she lacked in height, she had more than double in enthusiasm. "Hi Cutie! I'm Pixie--I mean Trixie! I shoot stuff and make things go boom! I'm sure you know that we're all actually super special awesome superheroes. You gotta be a superhero to join us too, yaknow." "Of course. I'm one too, you know," Quentin said, winking at her over his sunglasses. "I'm Hydroman. Maybe when we get to the spa, I can show you my moves." That little conversation ordinarily would have been the last thing on most men's minds when confronted by a pack of poser Varrens with assault on their minds, but Quentin was not most men. His mind rolled back to thinking of himself as Hydroman when a Varren popped up behind him and pounced on him with a take down. Quentin grunted as he hit the ground, enjoying an all-expenses paid dirt nap. It occurred to him at that moment that he had forgotten to pack a canteen with him for the trip from the Guild to the spa. A water mage without water was a surfer without a board. He gave a low cry when a Varren pelted him in the back with a rock. He scrambled on hands and knees to the side of the trail and stood on unsteady feet. A Varren in a gaudy purple shirt made a strange, hostile chittering sound at him. Quentin backed away slowly at first, but when the Varren dove underground, the mage turned and ran into the grassy growth. His first thought was to climb a tree and hope for the best, but as soon as the Varren sprang out of the earth right in front of him, that thought fell by the wayside. Quentin put his left hand on the tree and then looked at it. Green moss was growing along the trunk. Behind his shades, he glanced at the Varren, which betrayed no emotion. Quentin's right hand rested on his hip. "So sorry, dude, but...[i]Bulli![/i]" With a swift, fluid motion, Quentin's left hand drew an arc from the mossy tree to the Varren. A stream of bubbles followed the trail of his digits and got in the creature's eyes. The Varren made another unpleasant sound and flailed in irritation. Had Quentin been a more talented water mage, he probably could have sucked water right out of the grass and turned it on these foes, but drawing water from a large tree was a start. The mage backpedaled, hoping the distraction to the Varren would give him enough time to rejoin his comrades. He hoped they were more prepared for this battle than he was.