Sorry for the lack of updates this week – we had an Ofsted inspection at work, which basically equals one mad, stressful week with no time to indulge in ones muse, no matter how much said muse whinges about it!

Had much more fun with this chapter than the last... hehee, violence rules!

Chapter 29 – Duel

Weaving their way through the crowds, Nathyrra led her ragtag group to one of the larger viewing portals to see if they could ascertain exactly what was going on. No one was actually allowed inside the dome apart from the slave masters whose thralls were currently engaged in battle; at that current point, the pit was occupied by two illithid who stood opposite each other, each with a blank-faced thrall in front of them bearing blood-stained shortswords. Jen recognised one of them as one of the duergar who had attacked them the night before, but despite his apparent distasteful reputation in he pens, the half elf felt nothing but pity and compassion for him; no matter what he had done, no one deserved this.

Feeling decidedly sick, the half elf opted to wait quietly by Rizonym's side; as a fellow thrall, the two of them didn't garner any interest whatsoever from the other punters, giving her time to think. Seeing her discomfiture, the scarred drow briefly laid a light hand upon the small of her back; glancing up, the drow offered her nothing more than a small nod, but she felt comforted that he had thought of her nonetheless. Taking solace in his calm, quiet dignity, she looked up to see the rest of her comrades all huddled around a viewing portal, looking serious and talking quietly amongst themselves.

Suddenly there was another chime, and everything fell deathly silent; this was followed by a huge roar from the watching non-illithid contingency as the first pit fight commenced. Regarding the bloodthirsty rabble with a distinct air of open contempt, the illithid watched the battle with a sense of detached interest, the only hint at any kind of excitement being the occasional waving of tentacles. Another roar intermingled with groans then heralded the end of the fight a few meagre minutes later; taking a moment to glance over Nathyrra's head, the half elf saw that the duergar had prevailed; leaping atop the human he was fighting, he hacked viciously at his neck with his cruel looking blade. Recognising the human as the emaciated specimen that had shared Rizonym's pallet the night before, Jen paled considerably and felt her gorge rise as the dwarf finally succeeded in removing his foe's head with a final, almost glutinous gout of heart's blood and brandished the decapitated article triumphantly to the baying crowd before dropping it from his slack hand as his illithid master reasserted complete control over him once again.

"Boss..." Deekin whispered. "Deekin doesn't like this. Deekin thinks we shoulds get out of here. This place not healthy."

Nodding almost imperceptibly with her mouth set into a flat, hard line, the half elf could only agree.

o0o

There were four more fights before a ripple of consternation and excitement made its way through the crowd; four more fights of bloody carnage and wanton violence that would stay with Jen for a long time afterwards before there was any indication that something somewhere had gone terribly wrong.

The dragon's gone mad...

At first, Jen didn't understand what was being said, but slowly she pieced together the information from her very rough grasp of pigeon drow; her heart sinking in abject fear when she realised that they could only be talking about Ixenthraxsis, the half elf sidled carefully over to Valen and clutched at his arm.

"What's going on?" she whispered. "What are they saying about Ixenthraxsis?"

Shaking his head slightly, the tiefling swallowed hard. "They're saying she's gone mad; I'm assuming that means she is refusing to fight... or has turned on her master."

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"No, Jen - it's a bad thing. If it's true, there is a good chance she'll be tortured – maybe even executed if she's embarrassed her master enough – simply for fun."

Feeling all the colour drain from her face, Jen glanced up at the Weapon Master. "What can we do?"

Setting his jaw, Valen glanced down at her. "I can fight her. If we can tell her - let her know it's a ruse – then we might be able to get her out of this..."

Pulling himself from her suddenly tightening grasp, the tiefling stepped forwards to murmur something into Nathyrra's pointed ear. At first, the drow shook her head, but after turning and seeing the look of grim determination upon Valen's face, she nodded slowly; stalking ahead, the drow led the Weapon Master to where the pit boss was located without a backwards glance and a determined air about her.

It took all of Jen' self restraint to stop herself from running over to them and demanding that they stopped; that the ruse had gone too far now, and none of this was worth getting killed over. Whilst she had no doubt that the tiefling could handle himself in any given situation, she still couldn't help but fear for his safety, not to mention his ability to keep his unpredictable rage completely under his control. Standing with her fists clenched in worry and frustration, she felt someone rest a hand upon her shoulder; forcing herself not to jump and relax as much as she possibly could, she glanced from the corner of one eye and saw that it was Xen'shai, his bruised features betraying nothing.

"Jenalil..." he murmured, "I'm afraid to say that you are not doing a very good job of being a thrall. I have heard a few worrisome whisperings; I suggest that we seek somewhere a little more... covert."

He then tugged her back gently, trying to lead her away from the pits, a move that she resisted.

"No," she replied through gritted teeth. "This has gone too far. I don't know what Nathyrra is thinking... she should be stopping this. This shouldn't be happening!"

"The lessons in leadership and having absolute power over your minions are lessons that are never forgotten, nor truly relinquished," the Deathsinger whispered. "She is a acting as a drow female would in this situation, nothing more. There is little you can do now – we walk a treacherous path, and it is best that you bury your emotions down deep for the time being and play your role, otherwise this could go very, very wrong indeed."

"It already has gone wrong," Jen muttered.

"If you will excuse the appalling use of grammar: things could easily go wronger, believe me. Come on; follow me."

Unable to do anything else but comply given her current circumstances, Jen took in an angry breath and trailed after the Deathsinger, who led her to a quietly secluded corner; turning towards the crowds, he then deliberately all but shielded the half elf from the eyes of others.

"Let them do what they have to," he murmured under his breath so that only the surfacer behind him would hear. "I am sure that as foolish as they are being, everything will eventually turn to our favour."

Snorting lightly, Jen glanced moodily towards the wall, a small glint of steel glittering in her eyes. Coming to a decision, she then checked to make sure Xen'shai's attention was firmly fixed in front of him before muttering the words of an invisibility spell under her breath; with a short, convoluted gesture, she then ran her hands over her arms and silently discharged the spell, causing her to disappear from view.

Retreating even further into the corner, she sidestepped lightly from the Deathsinger and crept carefully away, keeping to the walls so that no one would accidently tread upon her and therefore break her deception. It wasn't that difficult; the general din of the boisterous crowd meant that even if she hadn't decided to be careful, the chances of anyone noticing her anyway were slim to none, but since it always paid to be cautious on the off chance that someone was paying attention, she drew upon all her previous tutelage as a militia-trained scout to ensure her passing was as an invisible shadow and made her way back to the dome.

o0o

Allowing the drow female to lead him, Valen kept his countenance passive and his ears sharp. From up ahead, he heard an unmistakeable roar; since no other creature currently within the city could even come close to such a deep, feral snarl, he guessed that its source was none other than Ixenthraxsis herself.

Arriving at the desk, Nathyrra glared at the pit boss whilst the tiefling deliberately held himself in such a way that emphasised his sheer bulk, his face, though carefully blank, still clearly communicating a glowering air of menace that was carefully weighed to make him seem as intimidating as possible.

The illithid, who had seen such displays a thousand times before, just regarded them passively, looking thoroughly bored.

Yes? it drawled as it regarded them slowly.

"I have heard the half dragon is fighting. That is the fight I wish to enter my champion for."

Sparing the Weapon Master slightest of glances, the mindflayer nodded, weighing up the potential spectacle of such a battle in its own mind.

Yes... come through and prepare. It then gestured to now open gate, but said nothing more.

Stalking through the gate with her head held high, Nathyrra was glad of her obscuring helmet as self doubt suddenly assailed her. Was this the right thing to do? Was this the way forward? Should she have refused? Swallowing hard, a small part of her chastised herself for such thoughts; once upon a time, she would never have entertained such doubts, but since joining the Seer's crusade and having everything she thought stable in her life brought into question, she had found herself questioning her actions and motivations time and time again. Wishing fervently that she could have the opportunity to discuss their next course of action with the Weapon Master, she closed her eyes briefly and took in a deep cleansing breath; too late now...

Rounding a corner, she was faced with a set of stairs leading downwards. Without hesitating, she strode onwards and found herself in a large room, its walls adorned with battered looking shields and weapons of varying size and type: the preparation room. Turning to Valen, the assassin nodded, indicating that he should select something, and was not surprised when he reached up and hefted a rusted, heavy looking flail from a bracket on the wall. Lashing it out with a practised flick of his wrist, the tiefling raised a sardonic eyebrow before smoothing his features carefully into a blank mask once again as three strange illithid entered.

Suddenly, there was another bone-chilling roar and the screech of steel clashing against steel from the direction in which the mindflayers had entered, followed by an exultant cry from the audience above.

A challenger? one of the illithid enquired, it's tentacles writhing a little as it regarded Valen, taking in his height and stature. Good... a real challenge rather than a simple blood bath. This should be interesting... It then turned to face Nathyrra. Have you been briefed?

Shaking her head, the assassin indicated that she hadn't.

It is simple, the illithid continued. You are to be present as your thralls fight; first one to yield – or indeed, die, loses.

Glancing towards Valen, who was now carefully staring blankly at the wall opposite, Nathyrra nodded.

"Are all the fights to the death?" she enquired, forcing herself to sound as calm and haughty as possible.

Not always, the illithid answered. Although those that are inevitably bring in the best crowds... and the best coin.

"I see."

There was another screeching roar from ahead, causing Nathyrra to look up.

They are ready for you, the second mindflayer communicated, it's curiously emotionless mental voice only adding to the drow female's doubt and anxiety.

Feeling her heart suddenly leap into her throat, the assassin just nodded sharply and strode forwards, the Weapon Master following obediently at her heels.

o0o

"So, the rumours seem to be true... a half dragon, no less. How interesting. Jenal... oh, uoi'notan!"

Xen'shai turned around to comment to the half elf, only to find the corner in which he had secreted her empty; cursing the blinkered view his helmet afforded him, he began to scan the crowds frantically, hoping to catch at least a glimpse of chestnut hair or midnight blue clothing.

Much to his utter dismay, the Jallil d'Ssussun was simply nowhere to be seen.

Marching forwards, the Deathsinger made his determined way over to where the others were waiting, still huddled around the viewing portal; bending over, he then grasped Deekin by the front of his vest and dragged the kobold up to his face.

"Where has she gone?!" he demanded in a low hiss, taking his uncertainty and annoyance at the half elf's ability to slip away from him unnoticed out on the little bard.

Shaking his head and regarding him through widened eyes, Deekin stuttered an answer. "W... who? Deekin doesn't know who Xen'shai refers to..."

"You know damn well who I'm talking about!" the Deathsinger fumed. "You know everything she does... what did she have planned?"

Looking bewildered, the kobold to shake his head. "Deekin guesses Xen'shai is referring to mighty Boss, but Xen'shai would be mistaken; Deekin doesn't know everything Boss does. Why does he ask? Has Xen'shai lost Boss?"

The innocence in which the kobold asked this question caused the drow bard to snort and all but throw Deekin to the ground, in turn causing everyone else to regard the Deathsinger curiously.

"Is everything all right, dalninuk?" Jehk'ril enquired quietly. "You're acting a little... discomfited."

Clenching his teeth, Xen'shai shook his head curtly.

"Jenalil has... disappeared," he muttered under his breath, his words for his brother and his brother alone.

Offering the Deathsinger a surprised yet oddly significant look, the drow mage surreptitiously glanced around himself as if searching.

"What do you mean?" he murmured back eventually. "I know you were planning to take her to one side and speak with her-"

"And I never got the chance!" Xen'shai interrupted. "She was annoyed and concerned at how things are turning out... at Nathyrra allowing the Errdegah-chath to fight in what she sees as a reckless, meaningless way-"

"And so you decided to try to get her to see it from the point of view that anything that could potentially eliminate that particular threat to your little plans can only be a good thing... just not in so many words, hmm?"

Scowling at his half brother's taunt and amused expression, the Deathsinger held back the urge to clip him around the ear for his insolence.

"No, I did not," he hissed back indignantly. "I just explained that these things come naturally to the drow and that Nathyrra probably doesn't even realise what she is doing could be considered in any way inappropriate... I then turned to the crowd so I would not be seen conversing at length with a thrall for merely a moment before turning back-"

"And she was gone?" Jehk'ril interrupted.

Xen'shai nodded grimly.

"She is more resourceful than we give her credit..."

"I know. It is something I seem to be learning the hard way, and I will admit that I am not particularly liking the lesson."

"So where do you think she went?"

Xen'shai shrugged. "Who knows... probably to find Nathyrra to convince her to stop any potential pit fight involving Valen, I would imagine."

"Well... what are we going to do? If she's caught, we're in serious trouble."

"I know!" the Deathsinger sighed irritably, "but what can we do? We can look for her, yes, but short of that, we'll just have to see how things play out... and be prepared for whatever stupid, ill-conceived plan she is currently engaged in." He then turned to the others. "Be on your guard... I fear our dear half elf has decided to take matters into her own hands. I have no idea what she has planned... so be ready for anything."

o0o

Slowing her pace to a rather more sedate walk, Nathyrra allowed Valen to draw level with her.

"You don't have to do this," she whispered almost apologetically, glancing in his direction. "Whatever your reasons..."

Valen shook his head and replied grimly. "Yes, I do. Ixenthraxsis wants to free the slaves and Jen and I agreed to help her – I'm not about to go back on my word-"

"Being recklessly noble isn't going to win you any points, you know," the assassin interrupted. "Our primary mission is to break this alliance-"

"And that's my main goal, too," the tiefling replied, a little testily. "Helping the half dragon is just a bonus – especially since she has hinted she would be willing to help our cause if we help her."

From the sanctuary of her helmet, the assassin gave Valen a long, calculating look. "Of course," she said eventually, keeping her voice carefully neutral, deciding to keep her actual thoughts as to his true motivations to herself for the time being.

Cresting the ramp that lead up to the fighting pit proper, the drow and the tiefling were faced with the spectacle of Ixenthraxsis on her knees in front of a rather stern looking illithid whose tentacles were fixed rather painfully upon the half dragon's head. Nearby lay the dead body of another mindflayer, its head ripped clean from its body, its vital fluids seeping thickly into the dark grey sand that covered the arena floor. At first, Nathyrra thought that they were too late; that the paladin's master had decided that enough was enough and that it was going to feed upon her, but as the half dragon's snarls lessened, she then realised that it was actually the opposite; the illithid was actually desperately trying to reassert control over its powerful thrall in the most direct manner possible in preparation for another fight.

Moving to stand in front of the assassin, Valen stood with his feet apart and his borrowed flail in both hands, ready for whatever should happen next. Feeling his heart quicken as the illithid in front of them disentangled its tentacles from Ixenthraxsis' skull, he watched as the half dragon stood up, a glassy cast to her bright copper eyes as she brought a massive, notched greatsword to bear and roared.

Answering her challenge with nothing more than a sneer, the tiefling began to pace a little sideways, deepening his breathing as he fought his own predictably climbing rage down to manageable levels, acutely aware that whilst this fight had to look real, his main aim was to break the psychic hold the mindflayer had upon her and...

Grinning a little manically to himself, the Weapon Master was then forced to admit to himself that apart from helping the half dragon, he hadn't really thought through the next stage of his plan; he had some vague notion that somehow they would all be sent back to the slave pens after fighting where they could hatch the next part of their plot much to the general appreciation of... all, but now he was actually in the ring facing the paladin, what had seemed such a simple idea now suddenly felt very complicated indeed.

Still, no matter: too late now...

With another roar, Ixenthraxsis suddenly charged, her head lowered so that her sharp horns were brought to bear, her greatsword held easily in one hand above her. Although Valen had faced far more intimidating visions in his career as a soldier in the Blood Wars, he felt far more daunted by the half dragon than anything he had ever faced before; if his goal had been to kill her, then all would be fine – but to subdue her... that was another matter entirely.

Growling his own defiance, the tiefling held his ground as long as he dared before diving sideways, giving the half dragon a quick warning kick to her shoulder as she charged past. Hearing her snort, he rolled as he landed so that he faced her once again; seeing the paladin snap her head around and take in a huge breath, Valen guessed straight away what her next course of action would be and tensed.

Standing tall, the half dragon opened her jaws wide and breathed out a long, thin jet of a greenish-yellow acid that dispersed dangerously upon contact with the air, forcing the tiefling to leap sideways once again as it struck the sand where he had been standing; where the acid landed, the sand spat and bubbled, melting into a siliceous soup that quickly hardened into a dirty-looking lump of vitreous glass. Whipping her head around, Ixenthraxsis then caused her fine spray of corrosive fluid to lash out almost like a bejewelled whip, and no matter how much Valen tried to dance out of its reach, a few of the scorching droplets met his skin and began to smoke, immediately eating away at his flesh.

Screaming with rage and pain, the tiefling dropped to another roll, hoping to use the sand to scrape away the now jellified acid that burnt viciously into the meat of his shoulder. Coming up breathing hard, it was his turn to roar as he ran headlong at the half dragon; cannoning into her using his good shoulder as leverage, he attempted to tackle her legs out from underneath her and dump her on to her back and therefore incapacitate her.

Opening her jaws once again and taking in another huge, gulping breath as she prepared to breathe once again upon the flame-haired demon that assailed her, the draconic paladin screeched as her horned foe ran into her at full pelt, his strength far more than she would have expected from his size. He aimed for her legs and, unable to keep her balance against his onslaught, she fell heavily to the floor as her greatsword clattered from her hand, her breath knocked out of her, meaning her breathweapon was momentarily useless to her. Instead, she tried to roll away from him as he tried to grapple her to the ground, all the while hissing something at her... hissing a name she vaguely remembered.

"Ixenthraxsis!"

Shaking her head violently, the half dragon let out a furious roar and lashed out with one viciously clawed hand, hoping to rake her talons across her enemy's face and blind him; instead, he thrust his own, curiously sharp-nailed hand into her hair and jerked her head up to meet his. Hissing as a sharp, excrutiating pain exploded across her scalp, she tried to scrabble at the demon; feeling her claws snag into his skin and the soft, warm kiss of his blood as it sprayed almost delicately upon her exposed arms, a small part of her was surprised that he withstood her assault stoically and began to take notice of what he was actually saying as he continued to wrestle her, his surprising strength matching hers.

"Ixenthraxsis!" he hissed. "Listen to me! Ixenthraxsis! Stop this!"

Drawing back his arm, the tiefling punched down almost reluctantly, his determination to break the psychic enchantment over the half dragon the only thing overriding his revulsion at having to attack her... and his revulsion at how much the demon within wanted him to stop pretending and fight properly; to rip open her throat with his teeth, to pummel her oddly striking reptilian features to nothing more than a pulp of flesh and splintered bone, to punch through her chest and snatch her heart out from under her ribs and present it to the baying crowd around them.

Feeling her muscles tense beneath him, he tried to prepare himself for whatever else she had in store; using the handle of his flail, he caught her under the chin and leaned his weight upon her scaled throat, trying to force her to yield once and for all. It was futile, however; with a strangled roar, the paladin heaved herself up and swatted him to one side, using her chained wings to aid her.

Staggering up to stand, Ixenthraxsis scooped up her blade and blinked through a mixture of blood that belonged to both herself and the tiefling in front of her before she struck out with a snarl. Raising his flail to deflect the blow, an immense clash rang around the dome as the Weapon Master took advantage of his superior training and kicked out with one foot, catching the half dragon painfully upon her knee.

"Ixenthraxsis! Listen to me!" he repeated as she tried to bear him down again with her sword. "You don't want to fight me! Wake up!" the tiefling pushed back. "Wake up!"

This time, the doubts were stronger; the voice was familiar, and the name more familiar still. Shaking her head, Valen saw a flicker of recognition pass over the half dragon's features before she stepped back and lashed out, this time a little clumsily, with her blade; dodging it easily, the tiefling risked closing the distance between them again.

"I know you can hear me!" he hissed. "I know you can... fight it, Ixenthraxsis. Fight it!"

With a roar, the draconic paladin punched out viciously, clipping Valen upon his acid-scored shoulder, making him scream out in agony. She then jumped up and landed heavily upon him, forcing him to the floor. From somewhere, there came a rabid, frenzied shout of what seemed like a thousand voices all screaming in unison as she raised her greatsword above her head, preparing to deal a killing blow.

"Ixenthraxsis... please... don't make me... don't make me release the demon and kill you!" the bleeding tiefling caught beneath her whispered frantically, holding out a beseeching hand to her. "It doesn't have to be this way... just wake up!"

Suddenly, there was an ear-splitting, almost subsonic boom that shook the very foundations of the city as something vastly powerful exploded outside of the dome.

Whipping her head around, the half dragon frowned slightly as immense cracks appeared in the dome's ultimately delicate structure; feeling the patter of dust upon her head, she glanced up and saw that the roof of the dome was also severely damaged. Taking advantage of her momentary lapse in concentration, Valen grasped Ixenthraxsis' throat and dragged her face close to his.

"Wake UP!" he roared and punched her squarely between her eyes.

Agonising pain erupted within the half dragons skull, causing little bursts of purple and black fire to pop and fizz across her field of vision. All of a sudden, everything swam into focus; the rage she held fleeing as she at last fought free from the illithid's mental hold; looking down, she saw with a creeping sense of dawning horror who she was actually fighting.

"V... Valen! Weapon Master... I am truly, truly sorry!" she exclaimed as she quickly stood up, allowing the tiefling to do the same.

Grinning ruefully, Valen shook his head. "Same here. I never thought you'd snap out of it... I didn't want to have to hurt you, but you left me with no choice." He then glanced towards a rather worried looking illithid, his grin taking on a rather more wicked cast.

"Have you any idea what is going on?"

"None whatsoever," he growled, reaching for his flail. "But whatever it is, let's take advantage of it and deal with your so called master..."

With a nod, both half dragon and tiefling then leapt into action once more; this time, however, their rage was not aimed at each other, but rather the squealing form of the illithid who once dared to call Ixenthraxsis his slave.

o0o

Drifting as silently and as insubstantially as a shadow through the excited crowds, Jen made her way as quickly as she dared and headed for the dome at the centre of the plaza once again. There was a now a distinct air of almost hysterical anticipation to the crowd, and although she didn't know the exact reasons why, she could guess: Ixenthraxsis, the famed half dragon gladiator, had obviously entered the arena and was ready to fight.

Carefully making her way to one of the viewing portals, Jen peered over the heads of a group of duergar to see the half dragon decapitate an illithid with her bare hands; shuddering at such a display of sheer strength and brutality, her horror was nothing compared to what came next.

Striding forward, another illithid flicked out a vicious looking whip that caught Ixenthraxsis across the shoulders, all but paralysing her. As she sank to her knees, the mindflayer stood over her and fixed its tentacles to what seemed to be specific points along her head; at first, the half dragon tried to wrench free, but it was no use – slowly but surely, the illithid gained direct mental control over his thrall as its tentacles physically buried into her flesh, slowly calming the draconic paladin.

It was then that another pair entered the ring.

Feeling her stomach drop and her mouth run dry, the half elf realised that it was Nathyrra and Valen, and that the tiefling had actually been serious in his half-baked plot to save the half dragon. Cursing him mentally for his idiotic, stubborn sense of misplaced nobility, Jen glanced around herself wildly, searching for Deekin and her drow companions, trying to ignore the surge of excitement that ran through the crowd at the promise of two such gladiators clashing for their entertainment.

Finally locating them, she quickly stepped back away from the viewing portal as a viciously excited roar erupted from the crowd, heralding the beginning of the fight, and made her way swiftly to Jehk'ril's side. Seizing his arm, she dragged him backwards, not caring if it looked strange to any onlookers and whispered into his ear.

"Are your spells prepared today?"

"Jenalil?!" the mage whispered back, looking shocked and surprised. "We were worri-"

"Shut up!" the half elf demanded, her desperation to stop the fight overcoming her usually affable demeanour. "Do you have your spells ready?"

"Of course," Jehk'ril nodded. "Why do you as-"

"Be prepared," Jen hissed as she let him go and backed away from him once again.

Cursing in drow under his breath, the mage muttered the incantation for a spell that would allow him to see anyone invisible in the near vicinity; blinking rapidly, he then scanned the crowd, but the half elf was no where to be seen. Running a hand around his now moist collar, he then dove forwards and grasped Xen'shai in a similar fashion to the way Jen had grasped him.

"Jenalil made contact – and I fear she is about to do something very, very foolish indeed..." he whispered.

Turning to regard his brother, the Deathsinger took in his serious, worried expression. "Define 'foolish'."

"I don't know, but she told me to 'be prepared' before disappearing again."

"Idiot! Why didn't you try to dispel her invisibility?"

"I did!" Jehk'ril spat back. "But it didn't work! I've told you before; her magic is far more powerful than it should be... I should be able t-"

Suddenly, from the other side of the dome, there was a massive, rumbling boom and a rush of blistering heat, followed by agonised screams and the stench of burnt flesh.

Everything fell into chaos.

Snapping their heads up, the drow and Deekin were momentarily horrified to see the spectacle of scores of slavers of all races running headlong towards them, some unsheathing weapons, others simply trying to get as far away from the carnage as another huge fireball erupted on the outside of the dome, punching a hole through the delicately constructed building. Unsheathing their own weapons, the drow and the kobold looked desperately for Jen when she suddenly appeared, hovering high above the crowd, a faint corona of light enveloping her. Drawing her arms above her head, she threw out another volley of magical energy, this time manifesting itself as a hail of electrical bolts that targeted specific individuals before arching off to find other victims; letting out a rather ragged gulp, Jehk'ril shook his head and gave his brother an almost bewildered look.

"She shouldn't be able to do that!" he gasped, fumbling in his belt pouch for the components of his own spells. "Even the most accomplished of archmages cannot handle that amount of power... how does she do that?"

Regarding the mage momentarily, Xen'shai simply smiled before drawing out his bizarre flute, preparing to play and lead them all into battle.

"Now can you see it?" he laughed triumphantly. "Now can you see the Shadow's interest? What she holds within her... imagine that in the hands of our Lord! This is why, brother – this is why!"