26th Day of Flocktime, 565 CY
Drachensgrab Hills, The Pomarj

Elrohir had spun around even before he realized it.

The clang of metal on metal rang out as Gokasillion came up to deflect the thrust of the slave merchant's longsword. The two of them had exchanged subsequent blows before it dawned on the ranger that the slaver had somehow freed himself from the hold Talass had placed on him.

Talass was unaware of her husband's newest struggle.

At the moment, she wasn't even aware of the others converging on Blackthorn. The priestess was on her knees, simultaneously trying to heal Nesco while yelling at the top of her lungs for to wake up. Her hands worked feverishly, stuffing a cloth she'd pulled from her belt pouch into the gaping hole in Cynewine's chest.

Within seconds, the cloth was saturated with dark, cold blood. Talass alternated between pressing down just below the ranger's ribcage and furiously shaking her shoulders.

"It's not supposed to be you!" the cleric screamed. "You weren't even in my vision! Don't leave us, Nesco- it wasn't supposed to be you!"

Talass suddenly snapped her head up at Blackthorn in an animal rage- just in time to see the gaunt man's shadow looming over her. His gleaming white teeth sparkled as the bloody nagamaki raised up and then came straight down.

In retrospect, had Talass thought about it, trying to "save" Nesco was pointless. The priestess of Forseti neither thought nor hesitated, though. She grabbed Nesco's body and threw the both of them off to the side as the polearm's tip slammed into the stone floor next to them. Talass wound up on her back, grunting under the weight of Lady Cynewine's armored corpse.

Elrohir was livid with rage.

Not at the slaver as a person, but rather as the opponent that was preventing him from getting to Blackthorn- and from trying to save his wife.

"The Abyss take you!" the ranger screamed, unknowingly echoing Markessa's earlier exclamation against his very own party.

The slave merchant screamed with pain as Elrohir's sword found its way past his chain shirt and plunged into his right thigh. An instant later, the same blade had somehow found his left arm, rendering it useless with a deep bite.

Blackthorn turned to the left as Aslan came charging at him from the north, but the tall man's nagamaki was too far out of position from his attempted impaling of Talass to come back in time, and Aslan's sword made another hole in Blackthorn's chain shirt en route to his vitals. Again Blackthorn grimaced in pain, but quickly recovered-

-only to cry out as Tojo, now flanking him across from Aslan, cut a deep gash across his left leg. Blackthorn buckled, and again was only barely able to retain his footing. His skull-like head whipped around to glare at the samurai.

Tojo's face was red with barely constrained fury.

"Maybe not good enough, Brackthorn-san," he seethed, "but I getting better."

From the north side of the room, four white streaks flew unerringly towards the party's enemy- and nothing happened.

It wasn't a shield. The magic missiles had struck Blackthorn. They simply vanished on contact. That long neck swiveled around as a very angry looking Cygnus came rushing up, quarterstaff in hand, to stand between Blackthorn and Talass.

"I enjoy a good fight," that hollow voice boomed at him, "especially since I never lose!"

"First time for everything, you freak!" yelled Zantac as he came running up to swat ineffectively at Blackthorn with his staff. At this point, four of the party were surrounding the gaunt man.

Talass gave in to her rage.

Pushing Nesco's dead form off of her was even more agonizing than trying to heal her had been. Talass knew she had failed to save Lady Cynewine, but right now nothing in the whole world mattered as much as killing that skinny, gray-skinned bastard responsible. Staggering to her feet, she came in screaming and swinging right between Aslan and Cygnus, but her warhammer was unable to land an effective blow.

With a mighty effort, the slave driver pushed Elrohir back a pace, then back up several steps before turning and dashing out through the double doors to the south. The ranger didn't give him a second glance but turned and immediately headed back towards Blackthorn at top speed. The nagamaki came around but being surrounded was starting to hamper Blackthorn. The polearm was not designed for such in-close fighting, and Elrohir easily avoided it and stabbed with Gokasillion at the first piece of the tall fighter that presented itself as a target.

For the first time, Blackthorn actually screamed in pain and nearly doubled over, his linen pants running dark with blood at the crotch. White teeth grinding and sunken eyes watering from within the depths of that gray face, Blackthorn lifted his head to glare at his newest opponent, now comfortably ensconced between Zantac and Tojo.

"Time to end this!" he roared.

And vanished.

Myriad weapons swung wildly at the space where he had been, but none connected. In fact, both wizards' quarterstaffs collided with each other, and Tojo's latest strike came perilously close to Aslan, who had been leaning forward for another sword thrust.

"Where is he?" the paladin shouted out. "He couldn't have escaped!" he yelled, although his trained tactical eye showed him a space between Tojo and Cygnus that their cadaverous opponent might have been able to squeeze through.

Still, something didn't seem right.

There was a moment of relative quiet.

And in that moment, all eyes went to the figure lying limp and still on the stone floor.

"Oh, god..." Cygnus began.

"Blackthorn is still here!" Elrohir abruptly shouted out. "No one is to think about anything else until he is dead! That's a direct order!"

"That's it!" Talass suddenly shrieked and thrust her holy symbol directly over her head.

Suddenly, a ripple in the air exploded outwards from all directions from the cleric with an audible woosh. None of the party felt anything as it passed over them, but all heads turned to follow the wave's progress. It faded away like ripples in a pond at about twenty-five feet, but just as it did, about fifteen feet to the south of Elrohir and Tojo a figure rippled and shimmered into existence.

But-

"That's not Blackthorn," Elrohir gasped with astonishment.

Yanigasawa Tojo took a deep breath and gripped his katana with bold hands, holding it out in front of him in his battle-ready stance.

"Yes, Errohir-san," the samurai said with assurance. "That him."

The eye was drawn up. And up.

Blackthorn now towered a good three feet above his previous seven-foot height. Light blue skin covered a muscular mass that literally rippled with power. Small curved, white horns towered above a healthy head of dark brown, greasy hair, which came down the back of Blackthorn's head in a single crude braid. The eyes were black, with small, white pupils. The small fangs that jutted out of his lower lip were as coal-black as the rest of his teeth, which were dimly visible in the monster's open mouth. Dark wisps of steam came out of that orifice in ragged breaths.

The wounds the party had inflicted remained, but they were starting to heal up even as they watched.

"What is it?" asked Zantac in a horrified whisper.

Tojo tightened his grip on his sword. The frozen perspiration on his face was now melting rapidly.

"It... oni," he replied. "What you carr ogre mage."

And with that, the samurai screamed out his battle cry and charged.

Now unconfined, and with an even greater reach, the nagamaki shot out to easily intercept the oncoming samurai. Tojo might have dodged but seemed so intent on attacking Blackthorn that the thought of evasion never entered the samurai's mind. Even as the polearm's blade cut into his his left shoulder and the blood spurted, Tojo retained his grip on his katana with his right hand alone and continued on to plunge the sword into the oni's stomach. Blackthorn lifted his head to the ceiling and roared in agony, for that moment only sounding like the type of ogre the party was more familiar with.

Aslan followed up with his own charge, but the creature's thick skin turned aside his blade.

Cygnus and Zantac rushed forward as well, but neither mage's staff had the slightest effect.

Talass rushed forward as well, but there was a crowd around Blackthorn now. She spied an opening to Aslan's right, but bellowing his rage, her husband shot past the cleric to reach the spot first.

Blackthorn zeroed in on the party leader. "What's the matter, Elrohir?" he asked loudly, that same hollow voice carrying even over the ranger's inarticulate cries of rage. Those dark eyes flickered over Elrohir's head back towards the center of the room, and then swept back to meet his gaze.

"Lose another one?"

Elrohir went dead silent.

A single tear slowly fell down the ranger's cheek.

"We all lose things dear to us, Blackthorn," he replied softly, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

Still without a sound, Gokasillion came up. Blackthorn moved to parry, but Elrohir abruptly jerked his sword away from the arc of the nagamaki. The oni overbalanced as his polearm swung further than he expected, and the longsword shot forward, just missing the ogre mage's right side- and then swung straight up.

Blackthorn's right arm flew off at the shoulder. The nagamaki clattered as it skidded across the floor.

"Case in point," Elrohir said.

The creature screamed with pain but reacted faster than anyone expected. With his left hand, he reached down and scooped up his severed limb.

"Till we meet again," Blackthorn hissed.

And then there was only a large cloud of mist, which quickly flowed out through the double doors and was lost to the darkness beyond.

Elrohir stared after it for several seconds.

"We have to get out of here." The ranger's voice was hoarse with emotion as he finally turned around. "We have to-"

But the others were already closing in around their fallen member. Five pairs of anguished eyes met those of their leader, and Elrohir could feel a wave of grief building within him. He knew neither he nor his companions had the time to give in to it now, but the pain rose within his breast like a relentless tide.

Blackthorn, for all his sadism, was right.

He'd lost another one.

"They'll raise her," Zantac said hopefully. "The Royal Court said they'd raise her, right?"

All eyes now turned to Talass, who couldn't meet them.

"It doesn't always work," she responded, shaking her head slowly. "Nesco turned her back on the very same god that Heldenster is going to beseech for her return."

Now her gaze came up to meet the others.

"What would you do?"