laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

Martin sat upon the stone fountain, a centerpiece which had graced Glencoe since the town had been founded. Narrow green eyes glanced to the long line of bullet shaped windows on the side of the chapel to Arhus. A quick flash in the corner of one of them caught his attention and he glanced back in time to see the pair of glowing, red eyes blink, then vanish.

"I've fought all manner of things in my time," he yelled. "Undead and demon alike so, if you think to conquer this town for your master, you'll have to get through me," he stood defiantly, sword in hand. As he waited, the aged scout noticed someone approach from the southern line of stores and homes. He glanced over his shoulder to see a quartet of riders approach the inn and dismount. Newcomers, how interesting.

Three girls and a young man, all well armored and armed. He looked up into the dark sky as rain pelted his face, "Great and Blessed Lady, thank you for your strength and I pray for one last battle in your name before you call me home." He smiled, a cleansing shiver ran up his spine as he glanced again to the riders as one of them headed towards the front doors to the chapel. "I wouldn't go in there unless you're ready for a fight," he warned.

Turning to him, the young girl stopped. "What's amiss?"

He stepped towards her and glanced to the modest, dark stoned front. "The priests and their orphans haven't been seen in a while now. The door's been locked and I would suggest you not go in there alone, no telling what's in there."

She nodded and he noticed the dark brown platemail underneath the long cloak as well as the weapons on her belt. "Then I guess we'll have to find out." Young face glanced to him, smiled and headed back to the inn. As he looked back to the chapel, he could hear the demons within hungrily waiting which prompted him to grip his sword tighter. He turned, sheathed his sword and followed her into the candlelit tavern to see the other three that she had ridden here with, their cloaks off. Three brunettes, one of which had a bronze gauntlet that she tried vainly to hide on her right hand and gained his attention immediately. It's work was stunning and he guessed elven magic initially; she didn't appear to have any of their traits however.
Their male counterpart was a young man also, teenager by the looks of his face but, the black armor he wore displayed a modest red wash through it that shimmered with the firelight. A trait that made Martin a bit nervous.
The fourth carried a beautiful staff whose length sported amazing carvings of nature and top spun into four thin wisps that circumnavigated a brilliant gem. Green leather armor trimmed in thin golden filigree told of a druid immediately and he suddenly became more confident at the sight of this group as they talked.

"..And he mentioned there being a problem in the chapel," the girl in plate mentioned as she motioned to the gawking, thinly built scout.

"Let's find out what's going on then," the gauntleted one stated.

"We'll put our things in the rooms then go," the druid suggested and they all concurred. As they moved up the stairs, Martin proceeded into the tavern and sat down at a nearby table, most occupied by townsfolk with nothing better to do then wait out the storm.

"The moment newcomers arrive," the middle-aged man to his right began. "And you go telling them about ghosts," he laughed and took a sip of his ale.

Martin glanced at the ferrier. "Had this town no eyes and ears such as mine, you'd be a fatherless child." A comment that angered his companion who turned to him, but said nothing. "Glencoe needs heroes right now and I can't do it myself."

"Are you saying none of us can defend our homes," his cousin across the table accused.

"No. I'm saying you've been blinded to something that's been going on right underneath your noses now for at least three weeks. Father Ewyn and the sheriff have been dealing with the problems around here while you all blindly continue on with your daily lives. Now, I fear they're dead and the thing that's taking this town is beyond all of us," he leaned across the table on crossed arms. "Funny, don't you think. The moment we need saviors, they arrive," he glanced up the stairs as the quartet of teenagers descended, prompting those around him to chuckle.

"You're kidding, right," the ferrier chided. "Them?"

Martin rose, smiling. "Faith, my friends."

As they approached, he followed them back out into the weather and closed the door. "I've been trying to keep everyone from the fountain. Don't drink that water, it's poisoned."

"How do you know that," the druid asked.

He pointed to his nose. "Years of experience, lass." Green eyes suddenly noticed his bucket which he had left near the fountain's edge and he moved towards it, then stopped. Had it been tainted now too?

"We'll handle this, thanks for your help," the plated female stated confidently. "I'm Danaca, by the way."

"Martin."

"Pleasure," she motioned to the druid," This is Katsandra," then to the gauntleted one. "Lyvyrikka, and Dillon," she finished at their male counterpart. As they studied the chapel, he moved to his wooden container which he had kept with him now for some days once realizing the cause of the sickness that had ravaged their town.

"How long has this been locked," Lyvyrikka asked.

"A day or so now," time was relative to him lately without any sunlight to tell the difference. "Many have been falling ill and we narrowed it down to the water," he explained and reached his bucket, then leaned over and smelled the water. No signs of pollution, he sighed.

"Is there a compound to Elminoir here," Katsandra inquired.

"Yes, on the southern side of town," he motioned as he grabbed the rope handle to his prize and carried it towards the inn for safekeeping. He at least knew that building was untouched by the demons.

After their initial scouting attempt around the windows of the chapel, he watched as one of the orphans approached Danaca and Dillon at the fountain as the other two had headed to the compound to confer with the druids who had been filling most of their time lately trying to help heal those they could. Odd, he thought them all dead as she drew closer to them, then suddenly struck at the male. He cried out and grabbed for his back as Danaca turned and he jumped up from his bench at the front of the inn. The little girl and female warrior shared a quick flash of swords which ended with the girl's death. Stunned, they all looked at the attacker as she then moved to her friend.

"Dillon, you alright," she asked as Martin stared down at the thin assassin whose modest, light green dress stuck to her body, he couldn't believe his eyes.

"I'll be fine, but it may need some attention. I'm not sure if it was poisoned or not."

Danaca helped him up then escorted her friend to the inn. She couldn't have been the cause of all their suffering, surely. This little child had been used by those he felt in the recesses of his mind the past day or so, a conduit for their rage that had destroyed the power base within Glencoe. He moved towards the front doors to the chapel and tried to pull them open, but found his strength alone wasn't enough. Within, he heard a dark laugh echo, a sound that made him back away as nervous adrenaline pumped. This wasn't over yet.