Martyll ducked under a piece of timber that had fallen away from the small hold in the middle of the Crossroads and didn't even look back to see if anyone had gotten caught underneath it. High ground, high ground, high ground, was the constant mantra that he was reciting in his head, as his eyes swiveled this way and that way, looking for something to climb up on. He needed to get a better view of what was going on. On the ground, there were too many things in the way. Too many trolls swinging dulled, poorly made blades at shadows that they would never hit, too many rangers standing in indecision about whether or not to release that bowstring. Would they catch a beast? Or would they catch an equally indecisive ranger? It was far too dangerous to shoot at something you could barely see in such utter chaos. In the midst of it all, Martyll caught a glimpse of Lith Starsword, pressed close to the ground, watching the feet of everyone who went past her. Watching for paws, he thought. Smart girl.

Frustrated, Martyll spun around and looked up at the hold. The outside was all smooth except for some wood which was falling off of the roofing, and that was too far up to-

"There!" he said out loud, as he spied a large piece of timber that had fallen diagonally against the wall of the keep, providing a steep but doable climb up to just below the roof of the keep. He moved swiftly through the screeching, swishing crowd. He dodged a troll blade there, narrowly dodged an arrow there, and stepped deftly over a troll whose throat has been slashed open. Whether it was by claws or by a fellow troll blade, Martyll could not say. He did not linger long enough to examine it.

Just as he was about to get a running start and hop his way up to the roof, Martyll turned his head and saw a shadow staying completely still, right in the middle of the crowd. One by one, all of the torches in the Crossroads were being snuffed out, by people dropping them in the sand in a panic, by people running past and blowing out the flames as they did. It was getting darker, and dawn was a long, long way off. Even in the dim light, though, Martyll could make out this shadow. At first he took it for another fallen troll, although he soon realized that it was not lying askew as the others were, but rather crouching. He nocked an arrow and aimed carefully, although no shot was very careful with this many people dashing past. The shadow opened its eyes, and bright, eerie blue eyes blinked at Martyll once before the shadow was gone, and its spot was empty.

Cursing his luck, Martyll stored his bow on his back and dashed up the precariously placed piece of timber, leaping upwards at the end so that he just barely grabbed the edge of the roof, pulling himself up. It was even darker down below now, with more torches gone out and the moon hiding behind heavy clouds. As Martyll scanned the scene below, searching once more for the blue-eyed figure, he saw a small orc child screaming and crying as it wandered through the crowd. Have the savages not thought to put the children in a safe place? He hated this place. Commanding the trolls was like herding feral cats, the orcs thought it a joke to take orders from the "delicate" elf, and the goblins didn't even clearly respond, they just cackled whenever he happened past them.

Thankfully, Lith swooped in at that moment and snatched the child up by the collar of his ragged tunic, darting towards the entrance of the keep below. Martyll returned to his search, scanning every rooftop and every space of empty ground. It was getting darker still. He would have to take a shot soon, or else he wouldn't be able to see anything to shoot at. Just as he was about to give up his search and give in to the frustration that was telling him to just start shooting blindly, he saw it.

It was running on four legs and even as Martyll watched, it cut out the legs from under a swinging troll, without even stopping or slowing down. A second troll looked down to see what had become of his comrade, and Martyll recognize Gubcha by the ridiculously stupid blue hair on the troll's head. The creature spun around to strike him down, too, and the captain could not help but roll his eyes. I'm going to regret saving this stupid troll, he thought, just before he loosed the arrow that took the creature right in the side, toppling it over. It lay in the sand, trying to get back in its feet and Gubcha walked away with his wounded brother, completely unaware of what had just happened.

Martyll hopped down and slid back to the ground, running over to where a small crowd was beginning to form around the fallen creature. The panic was subsiding somewhat, but there were still many shouts and curses flying through the frigid night air. As Martyll shoved his way to the front of the crowd, he caught a few whispers.

"What's this supposed to mean?"

"It's a joke, I'm sure.."

"Da elves be tryin' ta mess wit us! Tryin' ta make all da rest of us look crazy!"

He even passed another goblin cackling to himself as he peeked through the legs of those who were blocking his view.

But when Martyll finally got to the front of the crowd, he was not prepared for what he found lying in the dirt with an arrow wedged in its side.

It was a small human girl, her dark black hair tousled and matted to her sweating face. She has tanned skin, the color of the sand that she was laying in. He spun around on one heel and faced the crowd, his fury growing. "What game is this?" he shouted, so that even the panicked cries quieted down a little. "What joke do you sand-people presume to play with me?"

All was silent.

"Where is the beast!"

An orc standing near the front spoke up, snorting contempt for Martyll. "We could ask you the same thing, long-ears."

"It was a wolf, I saw it with my own eyes! I shot it with an arrow from my own quiver! Now where is it!"

He spun around again and looked down at the little human. She was perhaps nineteen or twenty in human years, not quite a child but not quite an adult. Her chest was heaving quickly and it looked like every breath was becoming more difficult for her to draw. Her eyes were shut tightly.

"Is it alive?" someone called from the back of the crowd.

Not for long, thought Martyll, as he watched her breathing become more and more labored. He was about to turn away and let the pitiful thing die in the sand, or let the trolls slash at her or whatnot, but just before he turned his head away from the sight of her, both of her eyes flew open.

They were a bright blue color. A bright, eerie, blue.