[center][h2][b][color=#23F794]N[/color][color=#21F19D]a[/color][color=#1FEBA7]t[/color][color=#1DE5B1]u[/color][color=#1BDFBA]r[/color][color=#19D9C4]a[/color][color=#18D4CE]l[/color] [color=#14C8E1]S[/color][color=#12C2EB]e[/color][color=#10BCF5]l[/color][color=#0FB7FE]e[/color][color=#10BCF5]c[/color][color=#12C2EB]t[/color][color=#14C8E1]i[/color][color=#16CED8]o[/color][color=#18D4CE]n[/color] [color=#1BDFBA]A[/color][color=#1DE5B1]r[/color][color=#1FEBA7]c[/color] [/b][/h2][/center]  

[center][h3][b][color=FireBrick]Joseph Mathers[/color][/b][/h3][/center]

[center][h3][b][color=7bcdc8]Specter[/color][/b][/h3][/center]

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/A0ETWbS.png[/img][/center]  [sub]banner credit to [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/users/hellis]Hellis[/url][/sub]

 [hr]
 
 [b]Location: Inside Ironworks
 Time: Present[/b]
 
Joseph raced down the corridor hoping to find a secluded area to begin working on larger feats of magic. He had gotten by with minor curses and basic enchantments, but given enough time and preparation, he could bring the whole building down on everyone except he and his commrades. Holt twirled in the air behind him, continuing to deflect the onslaught of gunfire. 

After tedious weaving and dodging around beams, scaffolding, and machinery, the pair were fast approaching an empty space. Joseph peered through a shattered window from afar into a dimly lit room, likely an office or storage unit. He and Holt were at the door in an instant, barging through to escape their mundane assailants . . . but something was amiss.

No sooner had Joseph opened the door that he felt a sharp pain in his chest, followed by a quick rush that sent him spiraling to the floor. A heavy weight lay upon him as he struggled to break free, the pain intensifying, thick streams of blood now gushing from the open wound. 

"AHH!" Joseph shrieked in pain, unable to move from his spot on the concrete floor. Something was on top of him, something or someone invisible to both he and Holt was slowly killing him, and he was helpless to stop it.

"Holt!" Joseph called out in desparation, the apparition appearing at his side as soon as he dropped to the ground. Holt tried for a moment to see beyond whatever illusion hid this spectral attacker, but to no avail. Judging from how it was stationed atop Joseph and how it seemed to resist his struggles, Holt assumed it to be humanoid, something tangible yet invisible. 

The familiar flew just above Joseph's body and with an outstretched arm, beginning to claw at invisible assailant with great force. Though he could see nothing, he hoped that his swings would both wound the attacker and release Joseph from its grasp.
 
 One of Holt's swings hit their mark, a grunt of pain echoed through the halls before the attacker managed to leap back.  The invisible assassin has struck, but he had not stayed to reap the reprocussions.  Although the familiar could feel the warmth of blood across his claws, the faint sounds of the assailant's footwork suggested this wound was superficial at best.
 
Odette ran hoping to catch Joseph. Glass littered through the hallways, burst pipes plummed steam hazing out her visability. Her air sprites zipped back and forth with constant updates. Gene Co had arrived attacking the intruders without hesitation engaging the Champion of Gaia and the Icarus drones. Unfortunately they were not in time to slow down Icarus from entering Ironworks.

"[color=thistle]He certainly has my attention.[/color]" Odette grumbled ducking past exposed wires. "[color=thistle][i]Any updates on Specter's whereabouts?[/i][/color]" She tossed the question out to the couple of sprites that had returned.

"[i]None. He has disappeared.[/i]" Small and wispy and nearly transluscent the air sprite responded. "[i]The Cowl however is on the move. He seems to be preparing the exits.[/i]"

"[color=thistle][i]Keep an eye on him. How close is the metal man?[/i][/color]" Odette replied rounding another corner.

Another sprite confirmed, "[i]He is heading toward Racheli.[/i]"

"[color=thistle][i]I will have to deal with Joseph quickly then support the men with the Syndicate.[/i][/color]" The ballerina said quietly. Slowing to a jog she began to cast a locator spell then was hit with a wave of exhaustion that interrupted her spell. It caught her off guard. She shook her head to focus again, reaching into her purse she pulled out an apple taking a generous bite. 

"[color=darkseagreen]I was beginning to suspect how long you were going to last. You have been extending yourself all day.[/color]" Bach noted hints of concern in his tone, "[color=darkseagreen]Granted you have been careful. Should I expect you will need my assistance today?[/color]"

"[color=thistle]I will handle the witch on my own. When his iron is taken care of then perhaps but not until then.[/color]" Odette warned after swallowing.

"[i]My Lady![/i]" A hurried sprite flew nearly into the sorceress's nose. "[i]Something has attacked the witch! He is suffering from a stab wound.[/i]"

Odette took another bite of her apple not breaking pace. "[color=thistle]What luck![/color]"

Specter drew his fingers across the scratch left behind by his opponent, it had gone straight through his clothes and the bulletproof vest he wore underneath, but it only penetrated the skin enough to make a flesh wound.  He put his hand over the wound, feeling the wet blood now staining his clothes.  Hardly the worst wound he's ever received on a job, but nevetheless a severe warning that this 'witch' was not alone.  Like him, there was an unseen ally he could not perceive.  However, judging by the wound he had received, the invisible attacker could not get a visual on him either. This led to an interesting predicatment, this 'Holt' would be aware that he was attacking, but since neither foe could see one another, it was a matter of mind games to try and take another strike at the attacking witch.

And mind games were something Specter specialized in.

The metahuman hitman rounded a corridor, knowing the warehouse better than his opposition in an attempt to out-manuver them.  He was to strike again from behind, biding his time while his opponent scanned the room for where he could be.  Of course, Specter was now dealing with his invisible ally as well, who he could not accurately predict. Instead, he grabbed a stray peice of rebar from a nearby table as he passed around, getting back in view of the target.  He thumbed the rebar in his hand, getting a feel for the weight and aerodynamics of the course metal as he eyed his enemy, who was now frantically searching for him.  As soon as the opportunity struck, Specter let the stick fly with a flick of his wrist, sending the iron bar end over end through the air, crashing into a nearby production table and ringing off of the cement.

Nothing more than a distraction, but it would be hopefully enough.  As soon as the rebar hit cement, Specter charged again, trying to drive his weapon deep into Joseph's ribs from behind, hoping the sound was enough to ignore the charging assassin.

Finally reaching the warehouse Odette slowly pushed the door ajar seeing the broken glass by the office and blood splattered across the ground. Footsteps and the noise caught her ears deeper into the warehouse. Past the machinery leading away from the Kilns the warehouse transitioned into tall shelves filled with various wooden pallets and wrapped with solid whites and clear plastic wrap surrounded her. Air sprites raced off ahead of her searching the area. 

Flipping through the grimoire to a unique trap from what she used earlier. Searching into the office she found a rubberband ball squeezing it the yew symbol glowed over the ball. Words of Power drawled out of Odette as she anchored the spell willing it to activate when it came in contact with whoever it hit. When activated it would conjure a silvery web but it would be nearly impossible to cut. On contact it would start to eat away at any surface it gripped.

Odette assumed Specter must be responsible for attacking Joseph. She had always wondered what his ability was. The sudden noise of metal made her jump before rushing off to invesitgate she bent down to her shoes whispering a muffling spell on her feet. Then jogged on to invesitage the noise. Jogging down the length of the shelves with the air sprites investigating her eyes were peered.

Arriving to the end of the row she stood in front of a large open area with several workbenches with various amounts of metal strew across it. Catching the sight of Joseph she quickly ducked behind some desks peeking out to watch him struggle with his wounds. Earlier she had forced Holt to retreat from his physical form now just a strange hazy shade hung over Joseph like a strange shadow. Odette squinted Holt's shadow was fading in and out.

Joseph struggled to move. His chest was bleeding profusely, scarlet streams staining his clothes and leaving a trail on the floor. He grunted, unable to move much further. 

"Th . . . the e-elixir . . ." Joseph called out weakly. Holt quickly shot down from his overhead position, fumbled through the duffle bag, and pulled out a tiny vial filled with a viscous, black liquid. This was a potent elixir made from demonic ichor. Joseph had foreseen such an injury and wanted to be prepared. The elixir would ease all pain and stop the bleeding, but it wouldn't fully heal the stab wound.

Joseph took the vial from Holt's claws and unscrewed the top, reavealing a tiny pipette. He let a drop or two of the black liquid fall into his wound, gasping sharply as it touched the exposed tissue and burned its way into Joseph's system. Soon, the pain had subsided and the blood had stopped, but Joseph was still vulnerable. Neither he nor Holt could see this invisible assassin making direct assaults useless. 

Holt listened to the assailants footsteps as they sped down the hallway and turned sharply in the opposite direction at the sound of falling debris, but the familiar was not so easily fooled. Holt could tell this was deception, but even so, he couldn't read the Specter's motions. 

"He wants to play tricks," Holt hissed, "so perhaps we should invoke a master of deception."

Joseph stood, caught offguard by both the cacophany of sounds and Holt's sugguestion. 

"Are you sure?" Joseph knew the dangers of conjuring spirits as powerful and ancient as the one to which Holt was alluding. "I'm not sure I can keep him under control."

"What choice do we have?" Holt replied swiftly, circling Joseph and keeping alert. 

Joseph nodded and quickly pulled from his bag a curious object, a large, oval stone inscribed with the first seal of Saturn. He took some of his blood from the ground and rubbed it over the seal, beginning the invocation:

[center][i]"Proud one, eternal one, arbiter of destruction, deceiver of man, rise up from your home beneath the Tree of Creation, from that most ancient and sacred place. I call upon the great serpent who lies, who devours his own tail. By my will, be born again and sew chaos. Ouroboros, I summon thee! "[/i][/center]

As Joseph finished his chant, the oval stone began to shake violently in his hands until a large crack appeared on its side. From the cracks spilled forth an ethereal black tar. Out it came until a large, amorphous shape stood before the pair. At first, it was nothing, but soon the black pitch took the form of a giant snake, almost the size of ten men. It coiled around the two of them with elegance, its massive head turned in their general direction.

[i]"How may I be of assistance?"[/i] the serpent spoke in a gutteral chthonic tongue, unreckognizeable to all but Holt, who imparted this knowledge upon Joseph. 

"Deceive my enemies' eyes," he commanded Ouroboros with authority, not wanting to seem weak in front of the ancient spirit. The first seal of Saturn kept the serpent under his control, but only for as long as Joseph could maintain the spell that held it to this world. Things would have to speed up, else Ouroboros would become agitated.

The serpent nodded and began to hiss in the same arcane script, the strange sounds echoing throughout the ironworks, making a few of the guards cower just at the sound of it. Then, shadows began to move and dance, becoming nightmarish ghouls that would torment all whose will was weaker than the serpent's. 

Odette saw the Ouroboros summoned squinting irritably at the spirit the dark illusions crept out in all directions. Bach whispered in French, "[color=darkseagreen][i]We may be able to interrupt the spell.[/i][/color]"

"[color=thistle][i]A good idea but I have no real chance at controlling it. As I am, I'm not strong enough. There's still that iron to deal with first.[/i][/color]" Odette replied retreating away from the spell whispering a charm to keep her eyes clear.

The assassin made his approach right when the illusion struck, finding himself striking only at air. He had planned it all out, the distraction, the split-second timing, the point of impact, yet he found no mark at his destination, the dagger passing through only air. The witch was right in from of him, wasn't he? He looked again, it was as if the lights had flickered, the target was standing maybe a few feet to the right of where he was, now. Specter swung again with the knife, but to no avail, only passing through darkness.

Something was wrong, Specter could feel the cold chill as sounds echoed through the dusty warehouse, it was he who was now seeing things. Glimpses of spirits, specters roaming the cement structure, working as if the chaos had not erupted.

It was not real. Block it out, Specter thought, he had to block it out.  He made his way back behind a desk, his brow furrowed in anxiety as the grip on his dagger turned his knuckles white.  He was seeing things, it was a trick, it had to be, he couldn't see straight, as if he was in a fever dream, knocking a loose wrench to the floor as he ducked behind the desk, a sloppy maneuver that would give away his position. He didn't notice his error, too busy in his own mind to even acknowledge it.  What was going on with him?

Odette's vision grew blurry and hazed the charm was battling against ancient magic even an masterful illusionist as herself stood little chance against the Ouroboros. Voices were encroaching, the wrench hitting the floor was clear as a bell, realizing that Specter must of been hit full force with the illusion. Blinking hard, throwing caution to the wind she stood from her hiding place. Not wasting any time she took careful aim with her rubberband ball trap then threw it directly at the serpent spirit.

Joseph jumped as Odette sprang from her hiding place among the desks and debris of the cluttered office. He could feel the power emenating from the mundane object, a trap of sorts. Ouroboros was an ancient thing, a being of immense power that would likely be unphased by any normal mystical traps, but Joseph couldn't take that chance. Ouroboros was his insurance, his one ounce of leverage. Without the serpent, Joseph and Holt were out manned. 

With intense focus, Joseph stood and aimed the blasting rod at the trap, willing it to fall, miss, or fail. He channeled all the malice he had in him to combat Odette's magic, and surprisingly, it was a success. The magic held within the rubber ball became unstable, setting off the trap in mid air, silky webs clinging to the floor, ceiling, and adjacent furnishings, but Ouroboros, Joseph, and Holt remained free from the web's grasp. 

This added layer of protection gave Joseph enough time to deal with the impending threat of the Specter. While he was battling unseen shadows and demons, Joseph would ensure that he couldn't get anywhere near them. 

"Holt," Joseph commanded quickly, the familiar appearing before him in an instant. "The scratch you gave that assassin earlier, did you draw blood?"

Holt gave Joseph an ethereal smile, looking down at his smokey claws at the warm blood that still remained. "You're going to use it as a taglock, aren't you?"

"That's the plan," Joseph removed a few items from his bag: a small offering bowl, some Saint John's Wart, and a small match. Holt became tangible, allowing a few drops of the Specter's blood to fall into the bowl. Atop this, Joseph placed the dried herbs and lit the match. [i]"Ignis per voluntatem disperdes inimicos meos.[/i]" After he spoke these words, he dropped the match into the bowl and was met with a quick flash of light. 

The spell would use the Specter's blood as a taglock, something to tie the spell to him. His being invisible made it difficult to work certain smaller magics upon him, but with a direct connection like blood, the spell was sure to succeed. Soon enough, sparks began to dance in the hallway near the Specter, a few of them igniting into raging fires. None yet touched the Specter, but the flames seemed to follow his movements, with larger fires building. 

The assassin had little time to rest behind cover before the pipes nearby burst, letting harmful steam gush towards him.  It took all the bearing he had to keep clear of the dangerous smoke, tumbling back into the main area of the room before having to leap away from a sparking control panel nearby.  He was dextrous, but the sparks still singed his coat.  The mage got him good, unable to esacpe, the poor assassin now found himself ducking and diving from every peice of loose metal as it nearly gored him, flames sporuting from nearby forges nearly igniting his suit.  Between the illusions and the curse, there was little the assassin could do other than try to stay alive at this point.

A frown pulled at Odette's pink lips with a glare to match at her throw failing. His blasting rod challenged her luck boon directly. Annoyingly so. The illusion persisted on her mind, deciding to protect herself further in order to continue fighting. Opening her grimoire flipping through warding spells none of her favoured spells seemed to be strong enough to comabt the suffocating strength of the Ouroboros. The words across the page were beginning to change and darken while the charm barely held against the onslaught. The voices grew louder, invasive laughter that reminded her of starch Fey nobles.

Bach was concentrating through the same illusions although they had a different effect, the fear of the dark not present. "[color=darkseagreen]Focus, My Lady! You need to erect a ward if you have any hope of combating the Ouroboros.[/color]"

"[color=thistle]I am aware![/color]" She replied squeezing her eyes shut trying to block away the noise. 

[sub][i]Cry baby, frail and emotional.[/i][/sub]

She stared wide eyed at the pages of her grimoire, attention held by those whispered words. Bach's beckoning faded to the background.

[i]Little girl, weeping your big heart dry.[/i]

It was louder now a lump formed deep in her gut and her face grew hot. Reddening whenever she felt second hand embarrassment from her past. "[color=thistle]No.[/color]" She said quietly fighting against the illusion willing it away. "[color=thistle]Not anymore...[/color]"

Words of Power tumbled out of her mouth, gibberish at first. Minutes passed as she desperately tried to gain traction. The words grew clearer as she repeated the spell scawled across the page. It was a ward against evil spirits, originally written to protect her against hostile Fey. Fell out of use when she had a powerful ward tattooed to her back. She drew on power from the arcane stream praying for its assistance. Blue light outlining her hands the voices quieting as the ward began to form as a bubble around the caster. 

[sub][i]Fall apart cry baby. Poor little cry baby.[/i][/sub]

The voices continued to recede while the haze around her vision cleared. The bubble of the ward wrapped in several layers around her person visible to the likes of Joseph and the Ouroboros.

Expending her reserves of energy the sorceress pushed on with a clear head calmly turning pages to her next plan of attack. "[color=thistle]You have showed your hand and revealed your bag of trinkets, Witch.[/color]"

Her eyes spied the seal at Joseph's feet glowing red with his blood recognizing it she figured it must of been what he used to summon the spirit. She licked her thumb turning another page. A risky plan, to release the Ouroboros could mean more trouble for her but if it turned on its master she would be in luck.

Speaking in Common Fey to the air sprites, "[color=thistle][i]My spies, I need you to get ahold of the seal.[/i][/color]" Each of the sprites came fluttering around her in fear the illusion of the Ouroboros affecting them as well. In her hand a blue pool of syrupy magic formed on the back of another warding spell this time made especially to protect and boost Fey magic. "[color=thistle][i]Use this to protect yourselves. A dob on your forehead and in your mouth to eat. I need that seal, wait until the witch is distracted.[/i][/color]"

They nodded taking the mixture gratefully, steeling themselves for the challenge. Air sprites were smart and easy to communitcate with but they lacked severely in boldness. Bach hopped into her hand copying the sprites in a similar manner taking the last of it. 

Rising to her toes she began chanting words of power as she danced on the spot. Rings of light appeared similiarly to when she fought the White Witch and Joseph earlier that day. Large cracks in the cement floor shuddered the ground omniously, the cracks sped toward the Ouroboros. The floor opened up beneath the large spirit the deconstruction of the floor making the ground uneven. Pushing large chunks up behind the spirit while several feet of the ground in front of it fell away. Odette hoped to bring it crashing down right into her trap.

The serpent shifted uncomfortably as the floor began to rumble and shake. Ouroboros looked furiosly at Odette, hissing at her in his chthonic tongue.

[i]"Insolent witch!"[/i] he yelled, lashing out in her direction with supernatural speed, bearing sharp fangs dripping with demonic venom.

Without a second thought her heels clicked activating the jump enchantments in her feet she sprung from her spot landing gracefully within a few feet of her trap ready for another lunge from the giant snake. The sprites flew bearing down on Joseph nearly a dozen of them flew around his head while a few others went for the seal.

Joseph swatted at the bothersome sprites as did Holt. His iron ring came into contact with a few, the others falling back for fear of being poisoned. However, Joseph hadn't noticed the sprites crowding around the seal that held Ouroboros to this world, and when the bulk of them had fallen back, they took with them the magical seal.

Ouroboros continued his assault on Odette, hissing again to stir up the shadows and shades. 

She dodged the fangs the best she could bouncing around, physically the sheer size of the spirit was terrifying enough. The illusions however were insidious, the voices came back in full force upon her in spite of her ward. With her last dodge she passed through the webs of her trap effortlessly arriving on the other side holding her hand out where the sprites successful in nabbing the seal dropped the stone. Her hand burned brightly with blue light as she tore into the magics of the stone. Tearing the seal apart with every word of power she uttered.

As soon as she did so, the Ouroboros came to a halt. Joseph and Holt hadn't noticed that the seal had been broken and were, of course, quite surprised to see the ancient spirit acting of its own volition.

"Ouroboros!" Joseph commanded the great serpent, but to no avail. There he stood, a great, untamed beast. It took both parties a moment to realize what had just happened. Shortly thereafter, Joseph looked down at his feet to find that the seal that held the spirit under his control was no longer there. In fact, it was in pieces at Odette's feet. 

"No . . .," Joseph looked at Odette with true terror, enough to make everyone else in the room shudder. "NO!" He cried again, directing Holt at the same time. The familiar quickly took Joseph in his arms and, with a great force, tossed him at Odette. Joseph figured she was off guard enough that he could make a final assault with his iron ring. In a second, he was upon her, right arm gripping at her exposed skin, but in that same second, he realized that he had made a grievous error.

The force and weight of Joseph knocked her off her feet but his hand wearing the iron ring gripped her wrist. Watching his expression fall a thousand miles at his realization of the iron having no affect had her smiling wickedly. "[color=thistle]I was so hoping you would make that mistake.[/color]"

Using the end of her elbow she swung it up under his chin knocking him off her. Regaining her stance she began chanting Words of Power once again allowing pure energy surround her hands. Stepping forward she slammed her foot against his chest, the hit sent him reeling straight into the Ouroboros. 

The serpent elegantly caught the witch with one end of his tail, setting him down gently and coiling around him so that none, not even Holt, could see.

[i]"My, my,"[/i] spoke the serpent in his Otherworldly tongue, [i]"how the mighty have fallen. You, Joseph Mather, son of Increase, among the oldest of your kind, and here you are, a failure."[/i]

Joseph looked away, eyes welling up with tears. He feared what was to come, but he prayed that perhaps he might be spared.

Ouroboros continued, [i]"You knew the danger in bringing me here in such a way. Bound by that profane symbol, so uncivilized. My kind much prefer offerings and sacrifice, proper greetings and introductions, but instead you lowered yourself to this, the practices of those disgusting medieval sorcerers. You must feel so ashamed . . ."[/i] The Ouroboros patronized Joseph endlessly, staring into his very being, his venemous breath inching closer to the witch as he spoke. 

"P-please . . ." Joseph let out a tired whimper, unable to maintain composure. This was his last chance to make an impression, to become all that he could not in his past, if he were to go out, it should be with dignity, but in this moment, there was none.

[i]"How long have you lived?"[/i] questioned the serpent, [i]"three-hundred and fifty years? And in all that time what have you done? You shadowed a lesser demon, doing his bidding without question, and you would have done so for eternity because you are a follower, a weeping servant, a common slave. You dare to call my name, dare to assume control over me, you who has nothing, and no one, no true power. You are no witch, Joseph Mathers. A witch is wise. You are a fool, and now, you have earned a fool's death."[/i]

The Ouroboros coiled tightly around Joseph's body, leaving him helpless, defensless. Holt tried to aid him, feeling the serpent's grip tightening around Joseph's body, but his presence was nothing compared to Ouroboros. The serpent lifting its head, exposing the deadly fangs dripping with demonic poison. In a flash, the serpent bit down on Joseph's abdomen, piercing his body, leaving him a bloody mess, crimson blood mixing with black venom. He released Joseph, fading away as the life poured out of Joseph's body.

Holt was quickly at his side, attempting to offer aid but knowing that there was nothing he could do.

"I . . . I am sorry," he said, turning away from his master of several hundred years. 

"G . . . g-go . . . g-g-go to h-her . . ." Joseph could barely speak, his lungs pooling with blood, his veins thick with the serpent's venom. "I-I . . . I release you i-into her c . . . care." With these final words, Joseph was no more. Holt would have tried to mourn his loss or gain vengence, but it was not his to gain. Shadows swelled around the familiar's body, forcing him to flee, to be elsewhere. Joseph's body lie cold and alone.

Odette watched Joseph's life slip away with a sickeningly large amount of satisfaction. While Holt's presense disappeared along with the Ouroboros, Odette assumed the familiar returned back into the realms it came from, not being close enough to hear what Joseph whispered. Allowing the power to recede from her hands Odette bent over the body of the witch turning his cheek in her hand it was still a little warm. Whispering with amusement, "[color=thistle]Ding dong the wicked witch is dead.[/color]"

"[color=thistle]Bach, did you understand a word the spirit was saying?[/color]" She asked curiously then brought up his hand that had the iron ring on it. Bach physically recoiled at the sight of it gripping the hem of her jacket fearfully. 

"[color=thistle][i]Ignis.[/i][/color]" Odette spoke the spell, the iron burning brightly melting in the palm of her hand the magic incased within being released upon it's destruction.

"[color=darkseagreen]No, My Lady. I do know an array of dead languages but the Ouroboros was speaking something very old even by my understanding of time.[/color]" Bach confirmed relaxing once the iron dribbled uselessly to the floor.

Her icy blue eyes scanned over the bloody mess that was Joseph and commented, "[color=thistle]Witches are fools. Their power is an illusion much like what the Ouroboros was projecting. He thought he could somehow control an ancient spirit with a little blood and a rock. [i]Ingénu[/i]. Naive.[/color]"

The fire in her hand shot to the duffel bag that Joseph was toting, destroying it and its contents.

Snapping her fingers the remaining air sprites flocked to the Ambassador once again, "[color=thistle][i]There will be time to mourn the dead later. For now we have one final thing to secure before the day is done.[/i][/color]"

"[color=thistle][i]Racheli.[/i][/color]"