A bucket of water was thrown over Turwyn and he sputtered mightily. He thrashed around in the chair, looking around at the men surrounding him, stopping to glare briefly at the one holding an empty bucket. He spat a bit of the water that was thrown on him at his feet.

Prisolyna crouched, silent on the catwalk, watching the kidnappers deal with the paladin and mage below. Gild’s mouth was moving, but whatever he was saying was too low for her to hear. The lead kidnapper, a man with shockingly white hair, laughed and then backhanded him, hard.

Prisolyna had to stifle a small gasp. Gild was such a small person and this man was striking him as if he were Turwyn’s size. The hit had caused Gild to jerk handily, his head twisting around in a painful looking reaction. As he slowly turned back, he still had that same belligerent smile on his face.

“Why were you asking about Linith? Who are you working for and what do they want with Linith?” the lead man demanded, placing his hands on the arms of Gild’s chair and leaning down to meet him face to face.

With the smile never dropping, Gild spat a bloody mess at the kidnapper, hitting him square in one eye. Cursing, the white haired man lurched back, rubbing at his eyes.

“Little shit!” He delivered another massive slap to Gild, causing the chair to teeter dangerously before settling back down. Prisolyna shook her head. That gnome either had some serious grit, or was monumentally stupid. Probably both.

White Hair turned away, rubbing the back of his hand. He approached one of the other men and started talking to hom, too quietly for Prisolyna to catch anything of what they were saying. She took that moment to glance around, trying to figure out the best course of action to free Gild and Turwyn.

The floor was empty, save the two chairs. Long shadows stretched behind pillars holding the catwalk of the warehouse up, with torches burning on each pillar and illuminating the center of the building.

White hair stood next to two other men, with another two at the doorway they had entered, holding loaded crossbows. There were probably even more outside, watching to make sure no one approached or even listening for noises from within. How could she take care of them all? She had faith in her swordsmanship, but five against one was a tall order, even for an elf. And what was to stop the three near Gild and Turwyn from gutting them as she appeared?

Looking between the five rapidly, she decided her best bet was to take out the ones with crossbows first. They were close to each other and had the most dangerous weapons. Shimmering could provide her cover for at least a moment. Once she killed the crossbows, she’d need to free Gild and Turwyn.

Biting her lip, she nodded to herself. It was the best plan she could come up with on such short notice. Silent as a cloud slipping across the moon, she slunk along the catwalk towards the front doors. As she neared the front of the warehouse, she shimmered. She climbed down the edge of the catwalk and let herself dangle for a moment before dropping as quietly as she could to the dirt floor.

Moving swiftly into the darkest bit of shadow she could find, she froze and looked around, making sure no one spotted her. She was still about ten feet from the two guards by the door. White Hair spoke and her blood froze.

“Do with them what you will. Just make sure to kill them once you are done. Then, Linith would like a word with them.”

What? She didn't have time to stop and think. Gild was saying something while Turwyn shouted and threatened them with holy vengeance. White Hair walked by her and the two guards cracked the door for him. He strolled out into the night air and the men closed the door behind him with a soft thud. Showtime.

Prisolyna shot forward, using a foot propped against the wall to give her a burst of speed. The two guards only managed a look of quiet confusion and she hurtled towards them. The confusion gave way to surprise mixed with fear as she dropped her shimmer, both swords ready and swinging.

She slashed the first man across the throat before he even knew what had happened. Blood welled up across his neck, cutting off any noise save a soft choking. With her second sword, she thrust at the second man, the one slightly further away from her. He managed to pull back a little, but her sword still met soft flesh and drove into his chest.

Unfortunately, he managed to get a scream out as the sword was driven into him. His scream turned sharper as she collided with him, driving them both to the ground. One of the men behind her, back near Gild and Turwyn, shouted something, but she didn't understand. All she could hear was the blood pounding in her ears and the sounds of the man dying beneath her.

With a swift tug, she wrenched her sword free and slashed his neck, silencing his gurgling cries. She shimmered once more, drawing on her dwindling mana pool. Shimmering while moving was difficult enough and drew more mana as she concentrated. Doing it while fighting was near impossible, except for those rare elves with large mana pools. But they tended to go the route of mage anyways and had access to better illusion style spells.

She darted towards the three men now closing in on her tied up employers. Letting out a scream to draw their attention, she dropped her shimmer and barreled into the first one, blocking a clumsy attack from the second as she did so. The first thug careened into the third and they both fell away.

She parried another swing with her left hand, spinning to get between Turwyn and Gild. With a deft slice, she had the bonds tying their hands behind their backs falling to the floor.

“Pritholyna?” Gild said, his mouth fumbling over her name slightly as his lips and tongue started to swell.

“In the flesh,” she offered a wry smile, turning back to the three thugs who had now regrouped and were eyeing them with marked anger.

“Ignus,” Gild said, and one of the men burst into flames. What Prisolyna thought had been terrible screaming before was nothing compared to the sounds this man emitted. He cried in an otherworldly, high pitched scream, one that tore straight into her soul. Even Turwyn was cringing slightly next to her. Gild, however, only stood up from the chair, his legs tied together, and started walking calmly toward the other two.

“Ignus,” he said again, his voice flat and eerily calm. A flame leapt into life on the center thug arm. He dropped his sword and set to work trying to pat it out, turning away from the approaching gnome and fleeing into the shadows behind the torch lined pillars. Gild stumbled slightly as he moved forward, sweat pouring off his head.

“What in all the Realms is going on here?” The white haired man had come back through the doors at the end of the warehouse, two more guards armed with wicked sickle like swords in tow.

The remaining thug took this as an invitation to attack him, bringing his sword back to strike him down. Unfortunately for the thug, he had completely neglected the other two people standing by to help Gild. Prisolyna darted forward, thrusting one of her swords. She caught the thug in the middle of the chest, sliding her blade in as easily as she was skewering meat for a roast. She smiled as a look of shock came over his face, soundless words dying on his lips.

Another thug took this opportunity to leap from the shadows, the fire on his arm extinguished. He let out a shrill cry as he sailed toward Prisolyna, his sword held high. Bringing up her left sword in a feeble defense against the approaching man, she tugged at her right, trying to free it.

The man was stopped mid air by Turwyn, who caught him, only to use the momentum of the man's jump to swing him around and throw him bodily towards the door. Prisolyna could only gape at the sailing thug, now screeching in fear, as he flew into one of the two guards that flanked White Hair. They crumbled together in a tangle of sharp edges and pained cries.

A fireball went soaring past Prisolyna and clipped the other guard on the hip, bouncing off him and exploding into the wooden door. The flames quickly spread, engulfing the door in the blink of an eye. The guard who had been hit fell back into the now raging inferno, screaming the whole way.

White Hair mouthed something that couldn't be heard over the fire and darted through the flaming doorway. Prisolyna gave a final tug and wrenched her sword free, allowing the man to crumple down, holding the hole in his chest and gasping softly. She glanced over to see Gild panting heavily, his robes soaked in sweat, with Turwyn right next to him, his massive axe in hand and supporting the gnome.

“Mind telling us how you got here?” Gild said between breaths. His skin was pale and he looked as if he was getting ready to vomit.

“Really, Gild?” Prisolyna gestured to the fire that was rapidly spreading to the roof of the warehouse. “Is now the time to ask?”

He made a point of looking around slowly. Turwyn was looking around too, though much more agitated than his gnomish companion.

“How about we get out, then we can discuss what is happening here.”

Gild nodded slowly. “I like your thinking.”