Preemptive Attack

Midnight rolled in; quiet, calm, and streaked with clouds. The wind had briefly tugged at the mist over the marsh; but it had eventually died down. The house was quiet; the lights had gone dark. The camp beside it was also quiet, save for some grumbling snores.

And the dark forms began to slip out of the marsh, sneaking, careful and silent.

Their Ancient was leading them. He was old. Perhaps not so old as the Volkihar had been, in their pride; but he'd seen centuries come and go, and he'd kept his coven close and safe. But now...they had been called out. Molag Bal himself had commanded it. Their lord would rise to his rightful seat of power, after eons uncounted, and take his faithful up with him...but it was not certain. And those huddled together in this...ill-defended place-they were all that stood between Bal and his ascension.

So they would be destroyed. It was as simple as that.

Pride was an interesting thing. Pride could be used to unify, to make a group or nation stronger. Pride would unite them and drive them to fight, harder and faster, against seemingly insurmountable odds. But too much pride tipped the scales too far. Instead of sharpening, it dulled the mind, clouding judgement and pushing sense to the side. Such was it that pride insisted that the house was asleep. Pride declared that they were superior, that they had succeeded in approaching unseen. Had pride hesitated for an instant, it would have noticed many sets of odd pinpoints of lights watching them in all colors. Intense, wary and even, a little eager.

All that was left was to wait the first strike. Even the frogs in the swamp had gone silent to watch.

There would be blood soon...so much of it...he couldn't wait. The Ancient signaled to the Mistwalkers to move in, neutralize the dangerous assets inside, and open the way for the rest of them. The four of them lunged forward, two for the house, the other two toward the camp.

And crossed over the first line of defensive runes Drelasa and Ravenlight had ringed the area with. Fire erupted under their feet, the force of the runes sending the now-flaming Mistwalkers flying into the air. It was a perfect, clear signal for the warriors behind the vampires hiding in the swamp to burst from cover, weapons drawn.

The hours before sunset had not been wasted by any of them. Defensive spells ringed the house; and the warriors had only been waiting for that signal to attack. Zak, Drizzt, Nevano, Veleth and Serana slammed into the vampires from the back. Drizzt and Zak had coated their blades with several layers of a particularly nasty fire-weakness poison: which meant that, even if their strokes didn't kill their targets, any follow-up from Trueflame or Hopesfire, let alone the Dawnbreaker, turned the creatures into torches where they stood.

On the roof, three figures rose, bows in hand: Ravenlight and the Bosmer Companions. Ravenlight let out a shrill whistle: in response, Zak and Drizzt called on their innate magic, wreathing the vampires in faerie fire, and making them clear targets for the waiting archers.

Veleth's eyes glowed like coals in the dark and fire spread from under his feet. Something seemed to writhe in his eyes as he closed in fast, far too fast for someone his size and heavier armor. On the other side, red and blue flames erupted and traveled up Nevano's arms as he dove in, his strikes seemingly independent of each other.

Drizzt and Zak were fighting side-by-side, their ability to sense what the other was doing keeping them safely out of the way of each other as they went after the vampires. Serana kept away from all of them, hurling ice and lightning into the vampires, when she wasn't dealing sharp, heavy strokes from the Dawnbreaker.

Arrows fell from above, not quite a hail from only three bows, but certainly a helpful assistance. The two Bosmer were using regular Elven war-bows, sending arrows stinging down into their enemies. Ravenlight, though she preferred the power of Auri-El's Bow against vampires, agreed that unexpected bright flashes of light would be just as disorienting to her allies as to her enemies. But Breatheater had a power of its own, and coupled with her dragonbone arrows...well, when her arrows fell, even Mistwalkers noticed.

Usually when Nevano traveled with Veleth, he relied on Bonebiter, providing backup while Veleth devastated whatever was in front of him. His two swords hadn't gotten much use, especially since Drizzt had been with him. There was some skill and speed! Between finesse and sheer strength, Bonebiter had been the wiser choice. Still, it felt good to use them again, Trueflame in his right hand and Hopesfire in his left. Nerevar, far stronger in the right, lent his skill, allowing Nevano to fully focus on his left hand. The disconnect of styles thoroughly confused his vampire opponent, who didn't know when to dodge or duck. Unfortunately for him, the wickedly sharp swords sliced off more than just a small chunk with every hit. The vampire didn't last very long until, with a surge of annoyance from Nerevar, a head went bouncing away without its body.

A spray of blood splashed over him but not from the body slumping in front of him. Nevano glanced over his shoulder to see Veleth nearly slash one in half, only the spine catching his sword just barely enough to prevent it. He ripped his sword free, sending more blood flying. Though his eyes were nearly spitting sparks, Nevano was pleased to see he seemed completely in control. Maybe his own walk in the swamp had done him some good.

The Ancient watched with fury as his coven was slowly torn apart in front of him. Somehow, their prey had not been not caught off-guard: not taken by silent surprise, and as a result, centuries of work was being undone in front of him. His mouth gaped wide, revealing his long, needle-sharp teeth as he inhaled...and screamed.

It wasn't as terrifying as the thrall's scream had been, back at the ruin. But there was a potent power in the scream of a vampire, especially one over a few centuries old, and the fighters staggered, shaken by the sound and the primal hatred in the cry.

But it had only minor effect on an older vampire. Before it could follow its cry with an attack, Serana was between it and the others, wreathed in darkness stretching out behind her like wings. It halted as it saw her, her eyes glowing, her mouth widening-and then she screamed back.

Nevano felt a grin stretch across his face as he watched the old vampire's face just fall when Serana shrieked back at him, firmly putting him in his place. Just watching her stand in front of him like that made his heart pound faster. When she screamed back, he staggered with the rest of them but not quite for the same reason.

"You are one of us!" the Ancient snarled, its voice barely human any longer. "You go against His call? You dare to rebel against Molag Bal?"

Serana snarled back. "I am not one of you. I never have been-and I never will be! And to Bal, and to any of his creatures who dare to try to hurt my friends, my family, those I love-I will stand against them, and you will not succeed!"

Veleth gave Nevano a slightly withering look. A battlefield was no place to have that goofy grin.

The Ancient's eyes widened. Then it shrieked again and lunged at her. Serana met it, and the two of them whirled together, tearing and snapping like a pair of fighting saber cats.

Veleth kicked Nevano. "Would you pay attention around you? She can't kick its ass if she's distracted because you got bit!"

Not all of the coven had been caught by the ambush, or the defensive runes, and those who escaped ran for two places: the tents of the Companions, and the house. They fared no better. Aela, in werewolf form, exploded from the first tent, ripping the first two in half before they knew she was there. And the others were close behind: Ashvana with twin daggers, Gen and Sine hideous in their Forsworn gear, Farkas and Vilkas with blades flashing.

More defensive spells greeted the ones who attempted to break through to the house: Drelasa and Catti-Brie stood in the entry room, looking out the windows: lightning and fire flashed from their hands in swift succession, incinerating anything that got close. A small herd of cats, their fangs unusually large, streaked by in a panic, chased by a large, sleek dog.

A few-just a few-managed to slip around the back of the house. There was an entrance there, unguarded. Or so it seemed-until they slipped inside.

That was when they found a group of Altmer waiting for them. Altmer who had a score to settle with vampires. The room was not so small that the four warriors got in each other's way. Nor was it so large that any of the vampires had a chance to make it past them. And Gyrmallion, in particular, had some aggression to take out.

A few vampires had just about enough of this nonsense and started to retreat into the swamp. The mists swirled up in thick clouds to envelop them and soft whispers reached their ears...just as a handful of angry spirits mobbed them, followed very closely by two heavily tattooed and scarred warriors that seemed a mirror image of each other.

When the battle finally ended, none of the attacking vampires had escaped.

"How's that for a vampire welcoming committee?" Nevano laughed, Trueflame and Hopesfire flaring in response.

"It's a good sign." Serana rose, spitting fragments of flesh and dust out of her mouth. "Granted, this was just a coven, not a clan...but it was a strong coven. Old, with many members." She looked up for a moment, then back at Nevano. "Test or true assault, either way, we came through."

"Just gotta keep shaking it up. Then they'll never know what to expect." Nevano grinned.

Ravenlight slid lightly down the shingles, dropped to the roof of the kitchen, and from there hopped to the ground, avoiding landing on any of the plants in her garden. "Anyone hurt?" she called.

She knew that her group consisted of highly skilled warriors. She also knew that getting off unscathed in a fight against an entire coven of vampires would be...more than unusual, to say the least.

Nevano looked himself over. "Few claw and teeth marks. Nothing serious."

"And likely won't be serious for you." Ravenlight called healing light into her hand, casting it into him. "Anyone else? Drizzt, Zak? Serana?"

"Not at all." Nevano winked at Serana. "Can get all the love bites I want and it still won't bother me."

This time, she somehow did blush, though no one was entirely sure how.

"Essiel," Drizzt called, ignoring them, "Zak's hurt."

Ravenlight hurried over. Zak was standing-but part of her wondered if the reason he was able to was because Drizzt was supporting him. She cast a magelight to see the injury and gasped: something had torn through his leather armor, tearing a long gash both through the armor and his back. Her hands filled with light, and she poured it into him. "That may need more than Restoration magic," she said grimly. "And you've lost a lot of blood."

Drelasa came running out with Elealda, seeing far too much gold light flaring up to be comfortable staying indoors.

"Something clawed Zak, right through his armor," Ravenlight explained. "Don't know when he took the wound, either; he's lost a lot of blood."

"What in Oblivion?" Drelasa murmured, looking over the marks. "I didn't think any of them had claws like this except the big one Serana took on."

"He didn't have claws like that, either." Serana came over, frowning as she looked at the wound. "I didn't see...I have no idea what could have caused that."

"This isn't vampire but there's no other body around here." Drelasa didn't look up from digging in a small bag, handing Elealda a larger jar containing powder. "This'll stop the rest of the bleeding. Boys! Pair off and look around! Something is taking advantage of the vampire attack."

Drizzt and Ravenlight exchanged a horrified look. Then, as one, they turned and ran for the back room of the house.

Drelasa focused on Zak, dusting the wound with the powder that had a particularly… potent scent. "Chitin." Drelasa explained. "Crab and Shalk. Stops bleeding quick."

He grunted a little, but didn't move, his face set.

"Easy, darling, we'll get you patched up." Drelasa said. "Not so jagged. You'll have a scar but it'll lie flat at least. Won't catch on your armor. Did you see what clawed you?"

He shook his head. "Came up from behind. Felt something hit me; didn't know it had gone through. Didn't see anything when I turned."

"No sound or smell stood out?"

"Can't remember." He grunted, but held still, as she brushed against a particularly ragged bit. "No time to think in battle."

A shout suddenly rang out from the back. "Serana, Nevano, Veleth! Get in here now, the damn thing got inside! Gyrmallion's got it pinned, but it's not dying!"

Veleth and Nevano shared a quick look and took off like a shot.

Inside, the creature struggled against its restraint. 'Pinned' was right: the Altmer had rammed his sword all the way through the creature and into the wall behind it, nailing it to the beams. He was standing out of range of its claws, panting: his borrowed Elven armor had stood up against the worst of the claws, but his face was striped with blood, and it had pierced through the leather jerkin at his left shoulder.

It was undoubtedly kin to the creature they had killed at Jorun's grave, only larger, uglier, and with nastier claws. It snarled at them as they entered, flailing, trying to pull itself loose, and trying to reach them with its claws.

Veleth's eyes nearly spat flames and he gripped his sword tighter.

"Should have known." Nevano muttered.

"Move." Veleth growled through gritted teeth, his skin starting to darken.

Panting, Gyrmallion obeyed, leaving a trail of blood droplets as he did. The two other Altmer, standing with weapons at the ready, also moved, leaving the way clear for Veleth.

Nevano kept them back. There were moments where one should step in and cool that rage and other moments where he should just shut up and stay out of the way. This was the latter.

Veleth looked at the beast, the air shimmering around him. "How many more of you children still live?"

It grinned nastily at him, baring jagged fangs. "More than you can handle. One for every day of Vivec's marriage."

Veleth didn't rise to the bait. Surprising, given the rage he was in. "Eighty and eight." Then he returned the grin, just as nasty. "Quite a drop from the thousands that were said to exist. A simple spear proved to be their undoing."

It snarled at him, evidently not having an answer for that sort of it turned its gaze past him, looking first at Drizzt, then Gyrmallion. "They won't live. Either of them."

"Explain." The air became hotter and it almost seemed like there was fire behind Veleth's teeth. His voice changed, echoing despite there being no way for it to, another's voice overlaying his.

"Did you think that malice was limited only to Alduin?" It laughed, watching the way Drizzt suddenly paled.

"My patience grows thin." The voices said through Veleth. "Speak more plain or your tongue shall be a treat for the Hungers."

It grinned nastily. "He knows what I mean...don't you, Drow?" With a sudden lunge, it tore itself free, springing at Veleth.

In one sure, swift movement, Veleth lopped its head off. "Snakemount awaits you. The pits always need new toys."

"Malice..." Drizzt was starting to tremble. He wheeled, turning to Gyrmallion. "Who else? He said 'they.' Who else was hurt?"

Gyrmallion jerked his head toward the other room. Catti-Brie knelt in the entryway, channeling healing energy into the last of the Altmer warriors. He'd been nearly disemboweled, and his breathing was labored. "Kaelen. If it hadn't hit him, I wouldn't have even known it was there; but he was...in its way." He stared at Drizzt. "What did it mean, 'malice'?"

"I don't know what it is." Drizzt looked around. "Where's Ravenlight? But it means the wounds...trying to heal them will hurt more than the wound itself did. It happened when Alduin bit me. Ravenlight tried to heal me; I could feel my body being mended, but the healing hurt so badly I was on the verge of dying of shock."

Nevano ducked out to go find her.

The Companions were easiest to find, milling about and gathering up the bodies of the vampires, those that weren't so old they immediately crumbled to ash. But thankfully, Ravenlight was among them, gathering up vampire ash and dust, and helping pick through the remains for anything potentially helpful.

Nevano ran over. "Need you. Hurry. Something about malice and the healing hurting worse than the injury? It got one of the non-Thalmor. Hurry!"

Her eyes widened. "Malice?! Oh-gods. Cover your ears!" She turned toward the south and Shouted.

"ODAHVIING!"

Nevano barely got his hands over his ears, still staggering a bit. Somehow, vampire screeching hurt less.

Ravenlight was already running. "Get Elealda to stabilize the other Altmer and fast! Him and Zak-we've got to get them to Paarthurnax, he's the only one who can put them into a deep enough sleep to keep the malice from undoing everything we try!"

Nevano tripped and stumbled as he tried to obey, his ears ringing painfully.

Ravenlight banged into the house, panting. "Uhiel, tent and blankets, get them gathered up, and hurry. Catti-Brie! Bandages, stitches-don't use magic on it, it'll make things worse. Can you help me get him outside? We have to take them both to the Throat of the World; to Paarthurnax. I called Odahviing, he'll take us."

Nevano managed to find his feet after a few moments and ran to where Drelasa and Elealda were fortunately still using powder to get the bleeding under control. "Don't use magic!" He slid next to them, panting. "Was another demon. Said something about malice and magic will only hurt worse. Ravenlight is taking them to someone who can help."

Elealda blinked at him. "Malice? Magic just making things worse? And how is she planning to take anyone-"

The last question was answered as Odahviing landed with a crash not five feet away from them, and the Altmer jerked back with a scream.

"Him." Nevano said simply.

A moment later, the front door opened, and Ravenlight, Drizzt, and Gyrmallion came out, Gyrmallion carrying the other Altmer. "Drelasa, you'll need to come with us, it just missed tearing him open entirely. Catti-Brie started sealing the wounds, but she didn't know about the Malice-he's unconscious from the shock. Elealda, there are a lot of minor injuries from the vampires that could use a surgeon."

"I got plenty of powder to stop bleeding." Drelasa nodded and gently tugged Zak's hand. "Let's go, dear. Get you fixed up. Damn demons..."

He staggered up, his face gray. Ravenlight went to his other side quickly. "That's my fault, I'm so sorry. Odahviing, lower your head a little more, they'll have trouble getting up otherwise. We're going to the Throat of the World: we've got to get to Paarthurnax."

She helped Zak mount, then took the bundle from Drizzt. "Take Kaelen. I'll handle these." Gyrmallion started to object, but she shook her head. "You need to be stitched up, too. Your wounds aren't mortal, but they're still bad."

"The demon snuck up on us. You didn't know. But we'll save them." Drelasa held Zak securely, careful to not aggravate his injury. "I believe these two will be stubborn enough to fight back. Odahviing, tilt to the side a bit, darling. Won't be pulling on you so much. There. Better."

Once all his passengers were mounted and secure, Odahviing launched off, wheeled, and flew south: toward the immense spike of mountain jutting toward the sky, visible even from the marshes.

Nevano watched them go with a sigh. "Now to get the headless demon out of Ravenlight's-" Veleth dropped the corpse next to him. "-house. Right. Next chore?"

"Probably to round up the wounded." Gyrmallion sighed, rubbing at his face, and looking at the blood on his hands with mild surprise. "The Companions might have injured of their own."

"Disgusting claws." Veleth grumbled. "I'll get the head and set the whole thing on fire away from the house. Get a strong cure disease, non-Thalmor. No need for these demons to start taking a page from Dagoth Ur's book. No one has cure blight potions anymore."

He nodded, stumbling a little. "I'll go...look for one." He started to head for the house.

Nevano took him by the arm. "Whoa there. Before you pass out. Sit right here. You'll start the line. Twins! Get a fire going here!"

Gyrmallion tried to wave him off. "I'm fine. The others-" Then he screamed as Elealda grabbed his bad shoulder.

"I thought so. He's been leaving a blood trail everywhere he was walking. Help me get his armor off, his shoulder's the worst."

"Never thought I'd find myself stripping a Thalmor that's not a Thalmor but this certainly has been a trip no one has been able to guess. Hold still! Vaermina's rotted tits, you squirm worse than Veleth's baby." Nevano pulled armor off, though not harshly.

The revealed shoulder was a mess. It wasn't a simple claw mark: at least two of the claws had pierced his flesh and been driven through while he was ramming it into the wall, and the revealed punctures were ugly, bloody, and deep. Pulling off the jerkin was the hardest part: the leather had sunk into and adhered to the wounds in a few places, and while he bit back screams, he couldn't stop a few anguished noises as they tugged it free.

"N'chow." Nevano winced. "I wouldn't use this scar to impress women."

Gyrmallion gritted his teeth as Elealda prodded the wound. "I can't tell if it's clean," she fretted. "One of you, bring me...something strong. Wine, or brandy, or-even mead, that's typically strong enough. I've got to wash these thoroughly, there's no telling what was on those claws."

"Hope for the best, expect the worst." Nevano stood. "Hang on."

He dashed inside while the twins got a fire burning, fortunately not lighting either of themselves on fire. Nevano came back with his extremely beaten up and many patched bag. "I brought this because I don't know why. You won't need much to clear it out. In fact, I suggest cutting this." He held out an ancient looking bottle, sealed not with wax but another substance that had hardened like rock.

Elealda took it, pulling out a small glass belt knife, and somehow cutting through the substance. She twisted it open and gasped, quickly pulling her head back. "Mother Mara, that's strong. It'll do the trick, all right."

"Give me something to bite on before you pour that stuff on me." Gyrmallion's golden skin was starting to turn closer to the color of fine wood ash. "Please."

Nevano offered him his boot knife. "Ancient Dagoth Brandy. Can't remember where I found that but it's probably a few thousand years old."

Gyrmallion accepted the sheathed knife and bit down on it, leaning back under Elealda's hands. She was sparing with it, pouring only perhaps a spoonful's worth onto the wounds; but his back arched like a bow, his teeth clenched hard enough to leave dents in the sheath, and a muffled cry still made it out of his mouth. His hands dug into the wood beneath him, his nails leaving marks behind.

"Considering how this is the only alcohol that makes even me wince?" Nevano nodded. "Don't worry about that sheath. I can get a new one."

She flushed out the wounds a second time, this time with clean water, before pulling out the needle and starting to sew them shut. Gyrmallion relaxed slightly, removing the knife and looking ruefully at the marks. He smiled a little at Nevano. "If there was any malice in my wounds, I think that took care of it, too. Ah." He flinched a little as she tugged the thread through.

"Nasty demon met House of Demon!" Nevano offered the bottle. "You won't notice her after a small shot of this."

He hesitated, then laughed. "If it knocks me out, she'll thank you."

"After a sip of this you might be screaming that I poisoned you..." Nevano said a bit ruefully, looking the bottle over. "It is a bit potent. Oh, there's a date. I think. What is...ah, 592. Nerevar, don't give me a random number, I need an era too. ...Don't get huffy, it's not my fault you gave me a - first era? Shite!"

"Well...aged, then." Gyrmallion looked at the bottle in his hand. "I'm...hard to poison by now, though..." He glanced at Elealda.

She shrugged. "It's alcohol, not jarrin root or something similar. It doesn't exactly go bad...though I'm astounded there was still anything in that bottle, if it's that old. If you just take a little, it shouldn't do more than make you silly, and probably will dull the pain."

"House Dagoth wasn't full of twisted insanity back at that age, but they were powerful and rather talented. More than a little magic in there." Nevano motioned at it. "And they loved their brandy. I've drank it before so don't worry about it hurting you. About the only thing that I can count on to get drunk off of anymore."

Gyrmallion took a swig and gasped. "Talos' axe!" He coughed, hard. "If we could get that to him, we wouldn't have to worry about Bal for a week and a half."

A grin slowly stretched across Nevano's face. "And this will be a day to remember: I got a Thalmor not-Thalmor to swear by Talos." His grin turned into a smirk. "We really need to come up with a new name for you. Something that will get others to see you aren't Thalmor."

Gyrmallion eyed him, then blinked. "That stuff...I'm starting to see double already. But while I'm still thinking straight, I'm just going to say I think I'd rather ask Ravenlight for ideas."

"What? You don't trust a Dunmer to come up with a good name?" Nevano gave a look of feigned shock. "I'm astonished. Insulted and astonished. I even had a good one picked out!"

"No, I somehow don't trust you to come up with a good one." His voice was already slurring. "I listen. Drelasa calls you trouble." He caught himself. "Gods, that stuff is strong...I don't think I'll be able to walk once she's finished with me.

"Alitam surpal had such a good ring to it." The mischievous gleam in his eyes said Drelasa had been highly correct. "Yeah it...might do that."

"Go find the other wounded and bring them here," Elealda said in a tone of fond exasperation. "And then ask that giant, Farkas, I think his name is, to get my cousin inside, because I believe his assessment is correct, and he's going to be counting pink mammoths in a few minutes."

"Pink mammoths singing tavern ballads. The dirty ones. He might sing along." Nevano laughed as he stood. "If I can tear Nevusa away from fussing over him...might ask Veleth."

Nevusa was indeed fussing over Farkas, who was enjoying every second of it. An ice spike flung by a vampire had cut one arm, before the vampire in question had been introduced to the sharp edge of Skyforge steel. The injury was bloody, but neither deep, nor severe. Nevusa still made a bit of a deal over it, sitting to bandage it while somehow sitting on him. Nevano merely smirked, listening to her chatter away to him about how impressed she was at how far he sent that vampire flying while pointing the more seriously injured towards Elealda.

Serana found him quickly, her dress torn from her fight, but otherwise unharmed. "There you are. Is everything all right? I saw Odahviing land while I was helping get rid of the vampire bodies."

"Another demon slipped in. Nasty one. Got Zak and he never noticed. Got one of the non-Thalmor but Gyrmallion...impressively pinned the thing down himself." Nevano admitted. "Stupid demon started going on about malice and then Ravenlight took the injured and Drelasa and whisked them off on dragonback."

"Malice?!" Serana's eyes widened. "Oh-oh, that's not good. I wasn't with them during that fight with Alduin, but I certainly heard about it afterward. It was...it was really bad." She paused. "She's taking them to Paarthurnax, then? Good. He knows how to...counter it, I guess, even if that's just putting them in a healing sleep deep enough not to feel pain."

"Yeah that's what I pieced together from all the frantic explanations." Nevano twisted his jaw a bit.

"Are you all right?" She looked him over. "I think-well, if she took them to Paarthurnax, I know it was bad. And I can...smell the blood. Some on you, more elsewhere. There's a lot of it, and not just from vampires."

"I'm okay. Few minor bites and scratches. Are you okay though? That was...what you did was...that was amazing." Nevano said.

"I..." She looked away shyly. "I don't have much danger of...losing control, now. But I can still tap into some of the darker powers of a Daughter of Coldharbor. He did...bite me once or twice, before I tore him apart, but it's not exactly as if I can contract anything." She looked back at him. "I meant what I said, though. I'd had so few, for so long...that now that I have friends, family, and...and people to love...I'll do anything to protect them, and stand against anything that tries to hurt them."

Nevano reached up and gently brushed dirt off a cut on her cheek with his thumb. "You were amazing. You didn't look out of control for an instant to me. You just looked like a goddess kicking his ass."

She smiled, the fangs in evidence earlier completely gone, and reached out to mirror his motion, cupping his jaw. Nevano's heart rate sped up to the point he knew she could hear it. Seeing how powerful she had been in the face of an incredibly dangerous enemy and now with her eyes turned warm...it made the blood rush faster in his veins. She was beauty, she was grace, she was deadly...and so much more. She was fire that stuck to him like pitch and for her he'd happily burn. She drew closer to him, her lips parted slightly...and he leaned forward, answering, more than happy to. His lips were just brushing hers...

"Excuse me! I still need someone to get Gyrmallion inside, please!"

Nevano growled. "Did I say I was starting to like them? Because I lied. I take back everything good thing I said about them."

"There might be other times," Serana said, though he could tell she was also more than a little disappointed. "Let's go see what she needs help with." She brushed his face again and walked over to Elealda. Unable to fully squash down the frustration that was boiling in his belly, Nevano followed, though making a point to grab Veleth instead of Farkas. They could deal with pointy armor and possible possession instead.

The surgeon looked up. "I'm sorry to interrupt the kiss, but this...needs taking care of."

Gyrmallion had...melted across the bench. There was no other way to put it. He was sprawled out in a completely boneless heap, staring into the distance and humming tunelessly.

Veleth raised an eyebrow.

"Dagoth brandy." Nevano said, a bit peevishly.

Veleth's eyes went wide. "Why do you even...never mind. I don't want to know why you have that caustic stuff." Veleth got Gymallion over his shoulders and headed inside.

"He was all right until about three minutes ago," Elealda said. "Humming nonsense and ignoring everything I did. Then he just...went down."

"It does that." Nevano scowled. "He'll be fine. Doesn't take much to get drunk off that, especially for one who doesn't drink all that often. Makes you stupid for a while. No one has died from drinking it. It knocks you out before you can even think of getting poisoned by it."

"That's good." She didn't seem overly bothered. "Gyrmallion really is hard to poison, though. Survived a few too many 'accidents' I believe were attempts to remove him without being obvious about it. He somehow developed a tolerance, if not an immunity, to most poisons." She turned to the next person waiting for her: a Companion with a series of claw marks on her face and arm. "I really wouldn't have interrupted you, only I couldn't move him by myself, unless I dumped him on his head."

"Because I'm the only one who can talk to the big idiots around here." Nevano muttered darkly as he walked away. "Ohuhmhar ouaj hul scutif ghar ohuhm serpul."

"You were the only one free," Serana said, drawing a little closer to him and twining her fingers through his. "But...in that regard..." She leaned in toward him. "They're all going to be busy for a while. Shall we find someplace...a little more private...and finish that kiss?"

The change in Nevano was immediate and impressive. He perked right up and gave her hand a squeeze. "Absolutely!"