“Aye, that I can, but why should I?” asked the wizard.

“Because you gave me one mother of a headache, and that makes me cranky,” Harruq said. He staggered to his feet, his swords drawn but flailing wildly as he tried to gain his balance. Before he could move, the points of two blades pressed against his back.

“Move, and you’re gonna get more than just a headache,” a rough voice said from behind.

“You’re a short little guy, aren’t you?” Harruq asked. He shifted his hips slightly, tightening the grips on his swords as he did.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nothing.”

The half-orc leapt forward and away. Qurrah covered his flight with a sharp burst of cold air. Aurelia whirled on the yellow wizard, red light on her fingertips. Several bolts of pure magic flew outward, fizzling into smoke as they struck an invisible shield.

Harruq found little reprieve, for the man in the gray cloaks assaulted him with a wicked barrage of double-stabs and feints. He batted away what he could, furious and confused as he watched what should have been killing cuts repeatedly deflect off his armor, or cut no deeper than a scratch.

“You’re gonna pay for that one, ya pansy caster,” the short warrior said, a bit of frost sticking to his beard. He charged across the warehouse with his punch daggers pumping the air. Qurrah laughed. A snap of his whip took out his attacker’s feet. He crashed across the floor, a rolling, jumbling mess of armor.

“I’m a pansy caster too, don’t forget,” the wizard in yellow said, smiling down at Aurelia even as she launched a swirling blue cone of ice back up at him. He pointed his staff toward her, summoning a clear shield of pure magic. The cold swarmed about him, doing no harm.

She opened her mouth to cast again, only to feel the curved tip of a sword press against her lower lip.

“Do not give me cause to harm such beauty,” the cloaked man whispered. He shifted, using the elf as a shield between him and Harruq.