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The eredar attacker made his way across the bridge below Dawnkeep and slowed to a confident walk. The sounds of battle in the courtyard behind him heralded the anarchy of the Repentant’s breaking. Glancing behind to see if anyone had dared to follow him, he noticed Nadana in his peripheral vision; she was on wing overhead but had already been beset by two stoneborn who were holding her back from her intended pursuit.

A sharp sting in his arm caused the eredar to bare his teeth and look down. A dagger. He wrenched it free and threw it to the ground, his blazing green eyes looked for the source. A lone night elf. “One of her Templar pets?” He almost laughed and relaxed his stance.
Mythalen drew both daggers from their sheaths and stalked towards the eredar in silence. A strange sheen glinted from the blades in the light of the Ember Ward. His face remained motionless and focused.
“Not going to be any fun then, and not going to be another of the order come to treat with me and offer your services to the Master.” The eredar snorted and watched unwavering as Myth approached. The eredar drew his own weapons, a sword and dagger, the latter held ready to strike and the sword held in a half guard.
The hilts of Mythalen’s daggers rotated and flipped, moving between his fingers with a grace and movement practiced across centuries. The pattern was almost hypnotic as he stepped into range and engaged with the eredar. Metal clattered against metal as the sword blocked a strike, and a flurry of strikes ensues. Myth blocked a strike. The eredar parried one of the elf’s own. A scratch cut across the eredar’s forearm. Myth sidestepped the downward strike of a sword and pulled himself into a tall stance. Another cut against the eredar’s bicep. The twist of the eredar’s hoof in the dirt telegraphed his turn and another swing of the sword. He dodged again.
“Enough!” The eredar bellowed and with a jerk slammed the too-close elf with his shoulder causing Myth to stagger back several steps after clipping another nick in the brute’s side. “You’re not one of her Templars anyway.” The eredar finally deduced his origin. Myth twisted his head to one side in a quick motion cracking his neck but kept his eyes on his opponent. His own stance fell into one of defense as the eredar sheathed his dagger and instead began invoking some kind of magic.
Myth watched only for a moment while he steadied himself, but as the magic forming in the eredar’s hands changed from the red-black wisps he had grown accustomed to seeing in Revendreth to a teal-blue shade he was unfamiliar with, his concern grew and he moved to close the distance between them. Teal light erupted in front of Myth barring his path, a brief pause was all he waited then raised his arm and barreled through the flame. The unearthly flames licked and bit at his skin though his clothing seemed unaffected. He hated to admit that it hurt but he continued to move further. Stopping now might only put him in a worse spot. Myth jolted to the side dodging a sphere of the unfamiliar energy that rocketed towards him. The wall behind him disappeared but above his opponent several small orbs of flickering light floated, one flickering into being replacing the one he had just flung.
Myth dodged another and continued his advance but a third caught him unaware. He jerked to the side but it struck his outer shoulder. Like the wall of flame before it seemed to have no effect on his clothes, but he could feel the cold pain streaking down his arm. It was a strange magic. He thought he could take one more of those blows as he got close if there was no other way but only if it meant he was putting an end to this threat. It would make a good first impression on the organization he shadowed.
Something heavy and cold hit Myth in the back. His feet went out from under him and the ground closed fast. As soon as he landed he rolled. No blow came but he sucked at the air. Both the blow and the fall had left him winded. Pushing up he attempted to spring to his feet but a heavy foot stomped on his back. The eredar was still before him. The one-on-one fight had turned into a two against one, he could see the stoneborn from his peripheral vision. The eredar has slowed and the orbs of magic around him were winking out. It was at least giving him a few moments to catch his breath, even if it was an unfortunate position to be doing so in.
The eredar smiled down at him, and for a brief moment Myth wondered if something had gone amiss. The eredar’s smirk faltered momentarily, but soon returned. “We’re leaving,” the eredar commanded suddenly. The hesitation of the stoneborn towering over him was evident but Myth didn’t move.
The eredar turned, striking off in a stiff and quickened stride. “The Master is waiting.” The stoneborn ground his foot into Myths back again, then with a flap of its heavy stone wings followed the commanding eredar. After a few beats he pushed himself to a squatting position and melded into the nearby shadows.
A moment later Nadana landed in the spot the pair had fought. The second stoneborn was gone, but so was the eredar. She looked around the area and after a search her gaze settled on him for a moment. Myth was unsure if she could see him and aside from staring in his direction longer than most she made no motion nor advance towards him. He watched her turn and move back towards the keep. He on the other hand had a little more spying to do.
Once the Templar’s eredar contact had left, Mythalen made his way quickly and covertly along the path he’d watched his quarry take. Though now he had a guard the use of this unknown magic was alien to him and while he had great faith in his abilities perhaps reconnaissance was in order. He followed him to the gates of the city surrounding the Castle and watched him and a growing contingency of stoneborn make their way through the front door. Less information than he had hoped, he thought the man would be mouthier, though watching him slow to a limp as the poisons took hold had brought a smile to the blackguard’s heart. Myth could feel his arm getting stiff as his adrenaline wore off. Gritting of his teeth he turned to leave, the magic had done more work on him than he would admit not to mention the stoneborn. “I’m getting too old for this.” He complained under his breath and started making his way back to the keep.
Author Mosur
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