[i]It was Harvest Night, and the usual crowd had gathered into the Katar household. Twenty bodies crammed into the modest dwelling, a bigger crowd than usual on account of the storm that raged outside. Javus ever faithful was filling the role of storyteller. Long gray hair falling in clustered bunches down to the small of his back, shadows produced by flickering candlelight playing off of brown wrinkled skin with every gesticulation. The others clustered around the low table sipped their drinks and listened. Some of the elders whispering amongst themselves as the children listened to every melded word. At the far side of the table a young man smiled as he listened to an all too familiar tale. “And so to rescue the fair maiden, Quirinus ventured deep beneath the ground. Far below even the deepest tunnels of the dwarves. When he was about to give up and turn around he found a great door sealed by powers long since gone.” The adults still listening nodded amongst themselves as they sipped at their drinks They had all spent what felt like a lifetime listening to Javus stories, as their parents had before them. Peering across the table Javus’ eye fell upon the young man seated at the opposite end. The baby of the Katar family despite being much a man himself. Black hair and a caramel complexion, he could of been a younger version of the elder storyteller. Javus smiled as their eyes met propping his arms upon the table to more easily peer through the dark. “And do you know what Quirinus found when he opened that door Anto?” Antoridus was always Anto, as such was the way of life. The young man pretend to think about for the benefit of the children whose attention was now focused upon him. “If I recall correctly was it not the maiden guarded by a great and terrible dragon.” The children gasped as Javus nodded his head in solemn agreement. “And so steadying himself with a great breath and drawing his small blade, Quirinus charged.” It was at that time almost upon cue that a few women appeared bringing with them the smell of a freshly cooked meal. Much to the complaints of the children, the story was put away for the moment as the meal was attended to. Before Anto could touch the bowl of scrounged up meat and vegetables, a voice called out to him. [b]“It’s time to go.”[/b] He turned his attention towards the sound. There suddenly sitting next to him was a small child bathed in pulsating white, yet somehow looking more clear than the rest. She looked up at him expectantly with a look of pity upon her face. “But the story isn’t even done yet.” Anto began to protest as the girl reached out her hand and touched him. And in an instant he could feel it all again, the pain in his side, the throbbing of his head. The dwelling around beginning to disappear beyond the light. [b]“You promised Anto.”[/b] The dream was already gone. A sigh. “I know.”[/i] Instinctively he spat out the dirt that had lodged itself into his mouth during the fall. The pain raced back into his body nestling into his chest before radiating outward through his extremities. Groaning he forced his eyes open, vision blurred with dust and blood. A figure knelt above him though he couldn't make out the full details. A hand tried to reach up to grasp at it, but he couldn't find the strength. “Are you the Maker?” --- Ovra watched in silent anticipation as the Tevinter hunting party grew closer. The others moving in around her getting into position. Feeling the easy presence of Krios and the fevered intensity of Krios naturally as the other two more physically members of the group. In here periphery she watched as Erinya, Eirny, and Aseema take up their own positions. She heard Erinya’s call and though admittedly her Elvish wasn’t the best since her studying days, she understood the gist of it. “Hey Eirny?” Ovra called out without ever turning her head back to look at the young spirit healer keeping her eyes focused on the approaching riders. “On my signal do you mind giving our friends a little bit of headache?” The ground beneath her feet rumbled as walls of packed blighted earth rose around them. While Ovra had her doubts about how well the cover would do against another one of those fireballs, it would at least give them some cover from the crossbows if things came to that. Taking a deep breath and crossing her arms about her chest, the dwarf waited for the Tevinter party to draw close tapping her foot in a steady beat. As they rode up the hunters slowly formed a protective positioning around the mage who took the center of the formation and with a flick of her hand made part of the stone wall bend inward opening upward like a door, so that they could see the group face to face. The terrible crunch noise following as earth moved forward against earth. “Isn’t that better?” The woman spoke still seated atop of her horse easily clutching her staff in one hand, her ebony and gold robes flowing easily in the wind. “Now what do we have here?” “An opportunity for business.” Ovra explained with a brilliant flash of white teeth. “ A fallen rider for some easy coin.” The mage chuckled as she looked down at Ovra. “Dweomer, what gives you the impression that you can interrupt [i]our[/i] business.” Ovra smirked. “Cause it’s our business now.” She countered gesturing to the rest of the Breakers. “And if you don’t wel.... We could just kill you.” Instantly she could feel crossbows began to rise at point themselves at her. The woman sighed putting a hand up to halt her men. “Calm down. Calm down. There is no need for more bloodshed just [i]yet[/i].” She give a small emotionless smile towards Ovra as she ruffled through a pouch at her side, producing five gold pieces held aloft between each of her fingers. “Will this suffice?” “Just five?” Ovra countered with a snort. Ovra was a patient woman in many regards, but if there was one thing that she detested it was people treating her like an idiot. “What do you takes us for? Fools?” “I take you for those who do not wish to be slaughtered like the rats they are.” The mage replied her voice as cold as the frostbacks in the evening, a spark of electricity crackling to life across the black of her staff. “Twenty.” Ovra replied with a shrug. The mage laughed. “Do you want to die Dweomer?” “No.” Ovra stated with her biggest smile yet. “But, obviously you do.” And with a flash of movement the dwarf drew and released her axe from her hand the blade slamming into the woman’s staff jerking it out of her hand. Hopefully providing enough of a distraction for Erinya to get her shot in. Immediately, she dove to the ground to avoid the inevitable response of crossbow bolts that would follow yelling as she did. [h3][b]“Eirny! Hit it!”[/b][/h3]