The big half-orc approached what had once been a storehouse. A shove of his arm, and the weathered door collapsed. Dust erupted as it hit the ground. Harruq led the way, Aurelia and Qurrah following after.
“Cheerful place,” Harruq said as he looked about the mostly empty building. Dust covered the floor, and splintered boards hung from the windows. Feces and dried urine filled one corner, and stacked hay filled another. A few crates and some rotting wood decorated the place.
“Who chases us?” Aurelia asked, frowning at the sight around her.
“Are your spells ready?” Qurrah asked her.
“I’m a sorceress. My spells are always ready.”
“Good. Because I fear we have a mage nearby.”
As he said those words, Aurelia’s robe faded back to its deep green, her ears returned to their sharp points, and her face, back to its exotic beauty.
“Uh oh,” she said.
It was then that a wide blanket of interlaced webs fell on top of all three.
2
Now I’m pissed,” Harruq said, yanking at the web surrounding his body. He yanked one of his swords out from its sheathed. The black blade easily cut him free. Aurelia remained perfectly still, her eyes closed. Qurrah let his whip drop, the fire burning away all webbing that it touched.
“Just stay put, you durn idiots,” a voice cried out. A short, stocky human dressed in full platemail stood at the door, his chest nearly covered by his black beard. Each hand held a nasty looking punch dagger.
“Aren’t your swords a little tiny to be calling us idiots?” the half-orc shouted, tearing loose from the web and storming toward him. “Now what in blazes do you want?”
“Harruq, look out!” Qurrah shouted. Harruq glanced back, but was too late. A figure leapt from atop a pile of crates and crashed down on the burly warrior. The butts of two sabers smacked his skull, dropping him like a sack of grain. The attacker landed without a sound, his entire figure shrouded by swirling gray cloaks.