[hr][center][h1]I M A L E S S A  S H A R I S[/h1][/center][hr]
Fingers tight on her bowstring, Imalessa stared out through the rain and the darkness as the trolls ran toward them. The others, those skilled in hand-to-hand and close combat, stepped forward. Imalessa stayed back, unsure how well she would hold up against the trolls without some distance between them. Let them handle the problem. She would do what she could from where she stood near the cart. But the rain was making it difficult to get a clear shot, especially when the trolls had already reached the line, and she didn't want to risk hitting any of her companions.

"It's poison! Don't let them touch you!"

She hadn't seen it before, but she noticed it now. The trolls looked as if they should be lying in the fetid mud rotting. Instead they stood and ran and shouted just as well as any living beast. Necromancy . . . Imalessa had seen a few forest animals infected with it. Those days she had chosen to go hungry, her appetite having died. But these were no sickly deer or whimpering wolves.

She felt useless as she stood there, bow in hand but not loosing an arrow. The others could handle it, surely, but she did not wish to be seen as a coward. Or worse - useless. She focused, steadied her breathing. Gentle seemed capable of handling himself, but Imalessa found herself to have formed a connection with him, however small. She let her arrow fly and hoped it hit its target.