[i][color=9e0b0f]~Earlier The Night Before~[/color][/i]
It was warm here, warmer than Marcus cared for. While the people were nice enough, he really couldn’t wait to get back to nicer climates. They had been here already for weeks, sent by the Ministry to investigate possible incursions from their Aretan neighbors. Together, Magus Corellian and Marcus were able to subdue an Aretan Knight who wandered too close to the border and return him to Muon Pond, where they spent several days interrogating him. For all their effort, they found very little. Except that Aretan Knights are just as foul and violent as the Magus had always claimed. Though, Marcus could respect the man’s will and courage to resolutely tell them nothing, despite the Magus’ sometimes barbaric interrogation methods. It had meant more times than one, Marcus was mending the wounds of a man who'd sooner run him through than spit of him were he free of his bindings.

 Marcus didn’t know if he would ever be able to torture another man as easily as his Master seemed to, but he was an accomplice. Perhaps that was just as bad. He shook those thoughts from his mind as he finished mending the worst of what Corellian had done to their captor just minutes ago. Though, he didn’t know whether or not this would be helping the man, or simply prolonging what might be his eventual death in this depressing place.

Marcus slowly ascended the stairs from the cell the Knight had been kept in. As he approached the Magus, he voiced his concern on the treatment of their prisoner. [color=39b54a]“Master Corellian, I’ve seen to his greater wounds, but nothing I can do will help him if he simply succumbs to starvation…”[/color] The older Magus, still racking his brain over what little he had been given, finally spat out, [color=ed1c24][i]“If you’re so intent on seeing him live so he might one day run you through, find him food then… As it is, he hasn’t given us anything. I’m not even sure he has anything to give us…”[/i][/color] Corellius taps his finger against the desk as the other hand massages his temple in frustration, [color=ed1c24][i]“Hell, he might even be searching for the same answers we seek. But it’s a fool’s errand to try to break this man. If we had perhaps found a squire or some messenger of their kingdom. But this Knight, his resolve is not so easily broken…”[/i][/color] After a moment, he sighs and leans back into the chair he was resting on. [color=ed1c24][i]“I’m getting far too old for this…”[/i][/color] Right now, he looked old. As if all his life had just suddenly pilled itself onto his shoulders at this moment.

[color=9e0b0f]~Early Morning~[/color]

The guards sounded an alarm. Yelling in the distance. Screams. Magus Corellian snapped out of his daze and stood. The two were frozen for a moment, glancing at each other before the Magus pointed to the door, [i][color=ed1c24]“Go, find out what’s happening out there. Protect the villagers if need be. I’ll make my way to you shortly.”[/color][/i] Corellius turned and started down the stairs before turning back to Marcus one last time, casting a weary smile his way, [color=ed1c24][i]“I know you can handle yourself out there, just make sure not to hurt yourself. Don’t get caught up in the moment and forget your head."[/i][/color] And with that, the Magus disappeared into the depths of the prison, possibly for one last attempt at finding out what, if anything, the Knight knew of this attack. Marcus could only trust that his Master knew what he was doing, turning himself and pushing out into the street and what had already descended into chaos.

The air was already becoming thick with acrid smoke.  It burnt Marcus’ eyes and set his lungs on fire. It seemed like the chaos was coming from every direction. A piercing scream drew his attention and he began running towards it. As he reached its location, he could see a couple of villagers attempting to defend their home from an attacker. There was one lone attacker against three villagers, but it was apparent that the assailant was far more skilled and prepared than they. One of the villagers already lay crumpled in a heap against his shack while the other two were failing to reach his body as the attacker had been trying to push them away. As he did, he threw his torch up onto their thatched roof and it instantly started ablaze. The attacker was clearly running out of patience with the two desperately trying to return to the fallen third and their home, parrying their makeshift broom weapon more forcefully each time the villager struck. If Marcus didn’t act fast, they’d all be dead. 

It was times like this he cursed the rules of Viceni Magi only giving staves to fully realize Magus. If he had one, he’d have been able to channel his magic at a greater distance. No matter, he mused, he’d just have to use his hands. Still running at the scene full speed, he smashed into the attacked with all his force. The two went crashing to the ground and before the miscreant had any chance to respond, a fiery hand was being plunged through his chest. The man let out a terrible wail for an instant before simply lying there, gurgling and smoldering. The stench of burning flesh and clothing made Marcus gag. Perhaps it was the cruelty of his death. It took all his strength to free his hand and not heave up the contents of his stomach, but somehow he managed to calm himself. He looked down at the body he had pinned down. It was elven. Not Aretan. He refocused his attention on the villagers. 

They were huddled around the villager who had been cut down by the elf. The man was still and not responding to the two pleading with him to wake up and get up. Marcus approached the two and pushed between them, placing a pair of fingers against his neck. He felt no pulse. The two, now apparent a wife and daughter, pleaded with Marcus to heal the man. He was a mage, couldn’t he just revive the man, return him from the dead? The nausea only spread through his gut further as he tried to explain that it wasn’t possible. The two begged and begged for him to pity them and bring their husband, their father, back. Marcus was trembling, how could he possibly explain to them the permanence of death at a time like this. 

His eyes burned as tear welled up and ran down his face. He felt completely powerless between these two grieving for their lost family. With every last ounce of resolve he had left in him, he turned to the mother, [color=39b54a]“He’s dead. Dead. That elf killed him. I can’t bring people back from the dead. It’s not within my power. I can get you two out of here before more of these bandits show up to finish what they started. I’m sure that’s what he would have wanted; to see that the two of you were safe. I’m sorry.”[/color] The look in her eyes said everything. He could feel the suffering. The whole town was suffering. How many more people were being cut down so needlessly as the elves burnt everything to the ground? As he helped the mother to her feet, he tried his best to put the thoughts out of his mind. But this would haunt his mind for a long time to come.
 
[i][color=9e0b0f]~Now~[/color][/i]

He watched as Muon Pond slowly smoldered. He stood amongst some villagers who had fled. His eyes still burned. His lungs still ached. His hands were trembling. He was tired. He was numb. The wails and cries of the villages only stirred his trembling more. He slowly turned back and looked at those who had escaped. While many seemed to have made it out, he was sure he noticed at least a few who were missing from the group. Many guardsmen. The barkeep. The woman who ran the bakery. He hoped that perhaps they would find their way to this group of refugees or find some other safety. His Master was still missing as well. He decided that, now that the bulk of the villagers had been escorted from the violence, it was perhaps time to find out what he could about the elven raiders. He approached one of the remaining town guards, [color=39b54a]“Make sure these people make it safely to the next village over. Warn them of roaming elven raiding parties. I need to investigate this further.”[/color] The guard protested for a moment Marcus leaving on his own, but Marcus quickly reminds the guard that his place is protecting these people. Matters of war are best left to the Magi. Marcus wonders himself how sound of a plan this is, trying to scout these elves alone. But if he doesn’t find out something, they’ll disappear faster than clouds over the desert they’re raiding through.

As he marched back to the village, he was left wondering what all of this meant. It was obvious now that the Aretans weren’t the ones ransacking villages. At the same time, what did these elves have to gain by raising tensions between the two governments. None of this boded well for them. And if the Magus and the Aretan Knight were gone or captured, there would be very little evidence beyond Marcus that these elves were responsible. He could only hope that perhaps that blasted Knight might see reason and ally against the common enemy: whoever these elves were plaguing the lands.

The fact that they made this raid so early meant that, aside from the thick smoke that now belched from the town, there was very little in the way of cover as he reapproached. He hoped a ward might assist him, which would appear very much like the already dreadful heat emanating off the desert sands. He took extra care to tread as carefully as possible and watch for any signs of them leaving. It was not his desire to be caught out in the open.