Whether or not Mason, his yet named opponent, could feel it - the earth seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Like a great giant the mountain they stood on contracted, and expanded, as though it were a living being. Adinraen could feel these changes, as his energy finally permeated its way down to the very core of the mountain. 

Like a submissive woman, the mountain was bowed to the will of Adinraen, the will of the Dominant, the will of Adinraen's Dominance. It would respond to him as though it were an extension of himself, it would ally its properties with him to some extent, making him more durable to things that would affect him normally. Fire, for instance, worked slightly worse than it would have otherwise. 

But there was more; there was always more. Adinraen sheathed his sword and tied the head of Legyu to his chestplate by the hairs of his head; now was the time to prepare. 

Reaching into the stone, as though it were naught more than the surface of water, Adinraen pulled out one of his fearsome weapons. The SkeletonBow with the Devil Hair String, and along with it, a quiver full of twenty arrows. The magic of his dominance allowed him to pull his weapon free from the nature around him. The bow was a gruesome piece of equipment and had pierced plenty a foe, bringing them to their knees from a distance. After all, the Devil's Greatest Trick was convincing the world he didn't exist. 

The arrows, settled in the quiver, which he slung across his back, were tipped with the rock of the very mountain itself. Compressed and folded upon itself to form not only an arrowhead, but one capable of piercing the heart of man and beast. The mountain itself lended its strength, perhaps making the arrows much stronger than if they were made of the forest, which would have made them faster, or of fire which would have made them burn. No, Earth was for the strong - Adinraen was strong - his Dominance demanded Strength. 

Adinraen's game could now begin in earnest. This foe, this member of the Hunter's Company, was a trespasser in the castle he had claimed for himself - and now he had to be dealt with. Adinraen began to prepare his earthen magic, focusing on the breathing of the Earth. He bothered not to look for his opponent, whom based on what the Earth was telling him, was somewhere within the walls of the castle itself. 

Was there something that had drawn the man into the deep, instead of out towards Adinraen the man who held the head of his comrade? 

Adinraen did not know the abilities of his opponent, though he surmised he was some kind of Bow Wielder. Would he be a marksmen of Adinraen's caliber? 

The Devil Elf reached up and thumbed an arrow's end, feeling the sharp, yet flexible 'feathers' that made it up. They, of course, weren't feathers of a traditional sense, but rock that had been molded. With a deep breath, Adinraen pulled free the arrow and examined it. Perfect, he thought. 

He dashed back towards the castle, arrow in one hand, bow in the other. Time to go hunting. The Earth would act as ears and eyes. 

Draw them out.