That was magical bullshit two, Ulric zero on the scorecard.

As he reclined, still uncertain if he wanted to see if the tiny little nova of chaos he'd created had destroyed anything, his pride aside, he realized that he wasn't frustrated by failure. Not even a little. Ulric wasn't a man who enjoyed sucking, but this…this was science! Science was almost entirely an exercise in sucking. In being wrong. Mistakes and misconceptions were the order of the day, the norm, instead of the exception. Fuck ups were the bricks that paved the way forward. By that reasoning, Ulric was well on his way towards…something. A good something. If he didn't die first.

He lifted himself to a sitting position, resting back on his hands as his head turned to survey the scene. Fireplace? In shambles, little flaming chunks of shit everywhere in a five meter radius, popup fires distinctly likely. Tents? Intact, though the slackness in some of the tensioning cordage did indicate that either the canvas or the lines themselves had suffered some degree of failure from the shockwave. Other than that, there was little to no indication of any ill effect from his experiment. So far.

When he turned his attention inwards, he also found no real issue. Other than having been mashed to the ground, as if a giant hand had pressed down on him, he was hunky dory. A quick cycle of his core, pushing the Ceraun through his mana channels revealed no internal damage either, despite a moment of weirdness when the gem of darkness went off, like his core had gone out and come back, a flicker of power removed from the grid. Verdict? All green.

"Watcher's tits, what a blast!" Ulric whispered aloud.

The tiny little gem had gone nova with impressive force. Ulric was uncertain if it was his little lapse in focus that had caused the failure of integrity for his spell, or some other cause. White magic was too reactive to suffer a breach in the containment. He wasn't sure if, once the lattice was fully mature and invested if it would still retain the same degree of instability and there was only really one way to test it. He'd have to make another one. For science.

Ulric took a minute to gather up the little flaming charcoals and return them to their place in the firepit, putting out a few minor pieces of smoldering canvas. He glanced into the stone firepit skeptically for a second, before he was convinced that the fire would reignite itself without further assistance.

Rubbing his hands together, he wasn't ashamed to admit he was a little nervous. The physics was working roughly as intended, the fundamental concepts were, to his ability to observe, in play. This time, he'd fill the lattice all at once, instead of procedurally. An instinct, possibly assistance from the Akashic pool in his Elementalist class, told him that the goal to which he aspired could not exist in piecemeal.

When he'd done the [Cinder Pearl] his mind's eye treated the activation of the spell as if it were a series of candles coming to life at the nodes of the crystal, filling it with their heat. That was, in his admittedly uncertain opinion, too slow for unaspected mana. The cast time left too large a gap for something to go wrong, for external mana to contaminate the matrix, despite his best efforts to hold the construct in isolation within his core.

If Ulric wanted the gem to be perfect, he had to be perfect as well. The entire lattice had to be done at once, every node, every locus of mana in place, all at the same time, or there would be a fatal delay in the stabilizing arrangement. It was only like imagining a three-dimensional schematic for a perfect jewel, while channeling mana as precisely as he was capable, while also preventing his own core's energies from influencing the spellform as it wove, all within a few milliseconds, or as near to instantly as his pitiful monkey brain was able to approach. Easy.

He could hear Shor's deriding laughter from all the way over in Irielhos. It was joined by the image of Gother's sad shake of head.

Okay, fine, so maybe he wasn't actually good enough a mage to do it. Still. Science demanded confirmation; he'd have to try again if he wanted to make any conclusions. Compulsively, he reran the theories, tightened a few conceptual holes, and sharpened his intent. Half an hour later, he was ready to try again.

"Third time's the charm. Right?" He inquired drily of the empty camp.

Ulric tuned out the surroundings to concentrate on a space in front of him, a little further from the firepit, this time. As before, he used his spellwork to revert lightning to base mana, just the tiniest amount held by his core.

Mentally, the engineer envisioned the diamond cubic unit cell, the eight nodes in their tetrahedral bonds coordinated to four others. Then he expanded the image to form the cubic structure of eighteen nodes, the familiar calculations for diamond lattice parameter easily coming to him, courtesy of two decades of advanced materials science research. Ulric's mouth moved as he silently recited the litany: Eight atoms on each corner, give an eighth of their volume, six atoms on the face give a half part of their volume, four atoms internal give the full measure of their volume, to yield exactly eight measures of atomic volume. Then the arrangement demanded the cubic corners to be separated by exactly eight over the square root of three times the radius of the atom, due to the spherical nature of the atom and the cubic geometry of the lattice.

He translated atomic volume to mean mana units and radii to be the separations between the nodes in the imagined crystal he sought to create, one millimeter apart, as small as he could precisely envision. Exactly eight precisely identical amounts of mana to be concentrated to occupy the eighteen positions of the lattice, and then multiplied by the integer amount to determine the size of the jewel, according to his determined lattice parameter of, call it four point six one nine millimeters as well as the charge of white magic he had prepared, ready to fill the lattice.

Months sitting in near dark staring at a computer-generated pattern of bright dots on a field of black flashed through his memory, and Ulric saw the gem in his mind, like a hologram. His will hardened and he pushed the magic to move, to make real the image.

The little white diamond flared to life, forming a beautifully faceted bipyramidal octagon, hanging in space before him.

*PING*

Ulric watched it, mouth hanging open in amazement. Now this, he told himself, this was actual magic. The surface of the jewel was immaculate, the edges so sharply defined it seemed not to belong to the world around it. He noted no prismatic fire, this time. A Philosopher's stone?

He'd done it.

"I did it!" the Reforged man shouted, ecstatic.

"What are you doing?!" Screamed Adept Werona, a look of abject horror plastered across her Sauri features.

Ulric turned his head, keeping his eyes on the [Arcanite Diamond] he'd created, "Umm…I'm doing science?"

He wasn't sure why he felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar but he didn't much care for it. Damned woman had almost made his attention slip, yelling like that. Didn't she know how freakin dangerous disrupting a mage's concentration was?

The taloned feet hesitantly stepped forward, carrying the mage forwards as if drawn against her will. Ulric was now certain that Sauri couldn't blanch because, if they could, Werona would have gone pale.

"That cannot be what it looks like. What you are doing is impossible. Madness." She informed him.

"Incorrect." Ulric replied, maintaining his concentration on the spell, just in case the situation degenerated, "Madness necessitates a lack of reason and impossibility requires strict proof, else it is superstition."

He reached out and took the crystallized magic into his hand, the little jewel fitting easily into his palm, being a bare few centimeters at its long axis.

"What I am doing is a perfectly reasonable exercise in application of sound physical principles. Just because the result is heinously dangerous if mishandled does not make it insane." He tried to calm her down.

The Sauri mage's tail lashed behind her nervously, clearly not satisfied with his answer. She had not stopped approaching, however, and now stood a couple of meters away, eyes drawn hypnotically towards the floating jewel of arcane potential in his hand.

"Where did you learn this?" Werona asked, still aghast, "What Archmage taught a Valin youth to shape Omic mana outside the core?"

Ulric tossed the stone lightly towards the stunned mage and struggled to remain stoic while she flinched away and then bobbled the Arcanite, before clutching it as if it were a priceless gem. Which, he supposed, it maybe was. Okay, that was slightly dickish, but he couldn't help it. The Adept ash wielder was far too wound up, and it was funny to watch her freak out. Besides, the gem was totally inert, its magical resistance near infinite. It had to be inserted into a spellweave to start drawing mana.

Her glare down at the top of his head was a near physical thing, pressing around him with its weight.

"That was not amusing, Ulric." He was informed duly.

"Subjective statement, Mage Werona. But noted. And nobody taught me, I figured it out this morning. Just now, actually! And it's kind of thanks to you, so, in a way, this is a win for you as well." He returned, finally allowing himself a small grin.

Large clawed hands cupped the tiny little Philosopher's stone in them and its brilliance nearly made the dark green of her palm seem to lighten in color.

Having had his fun, he tried again to placate the aggravated mage.

"Relax Werona, it's stable! Totally inert, until we hook it up to some construct or another. I mean, yeah, if the crystal structure is compromised, the integrity of the gem knackered in any way, we might be exposed to a dangerous reaction or antimagic impulse, but, other than that, it's completely safe." Ulric told her, receiving a rather toothy grimace of alarm.

"What under the Twins made you even think of this? And how did I have anything to do with it? I never even mentioned the possibility of this…this…whatever this is!" Came her shaken retort.

Ulric's lips pursed while he sorted the last couple of hours out for himself.

"Well, you remember how you were making use of the structure of the ash magic to provide a conduit for heat flow right? And that you then made your spellweave to draw and distribute the Incendere within its confines? Well, this is that, but instead of just working with heat, it draws all kinds of energy. It's like a, like a magical black body." He said, realizing a few moments later that she didn't know what a black body was.

A dead eyed reptilian stare held him and the man was reminded of a juicy grub crawling in front of a tokay gecko. Probably not the kindest metaphor he could have come up with, but there it was.

"Ulric, you wonderful, confusing, aggravating Valin pup, if you do not sit down and explain yourself I will be forced to kill you for an Abyssal witch." Werona threatened in jest.

Probably.

So, with a gesture for his colleague to take a seat, which she did instinctively, still clutching the teensy white gem, he took a seat adjacent to her and began to go over the theory, scribing pictures in the dirt with his belt knife. It was the better part of three hours, with frequent interruptions for questions, two accusations of witchcraft, and a final declaration that he was either a genius or irredeemably insane, before they came to the end of it.

Which was fair, really. Nobody ever accused Nikola Tesla of being a stable individual.

Now, Ulric was keeping an eye on the keen Sauri, interested to see how she'd take an injection of modern physics into her paradigm. The signs were thus far promising.

Werona sat back, glazed over, with her knees tucked against her muscular chest, rocking slightly against the base of her thick tail, a posture impossible for a human without falling over backwards. Empty slitted eyes stared at the clouds as they idled by overhead. Most of the mage's tail was wrapped protectively around herself, white piece of improbable magitech still held in her hands and she petted it absently, seeking comfort from the disturbing revelations of a distant cosmos.

More or less the appropriate response to a physics lesson. Many a night he'd spent sitting cross-legged, staring into a dwindling fire and lost inside himself while he tried to drag understanding, kicking and screaming, out from the anarchy of his wetware.

Ulric let her digest the contents of the crystallography and energetics lecture, sprinkled liberally with what he'd been able to figure out about how those intersected with the seeming quantum foam that was mana. It was sort of a lot. He would know, he'd been struggling with it for more than half a year by this point. He'd struggled with most of the contents for the better part of three decades, actually, and that was with most of it being known science for over three hundred years. Magic was, in all honesty, not the hard part, just the least well defined.

Adept Werona rocked forwards and held the crystal mana out towards him, placing it daintily into his outstretched palm, before assuming a slightly more relaxed posture.

The gem reflected light slightly prismatically when he held it at a certain angle to the light. Else it was like a lustrous piece of pure white marble, cut into a polished bipyramidal octagon. Visually, his [Cinder Pearls] were far more striking. This thing here, it wouldn't stand out on a bookshelf, other than as a pearlescent curiosity. It was important for what it represented, more than what it was.

How actually had Werona known what she was looking at? Ulric asked himself, before dismissing the question as inane. Because she was a mage. Its mundane appearance was one thing, to even a poor manasense the [Arcanite Diamond] felt radiant.

"We have moved well beyond the terms delineated in our contract, Ulric." Announced his draconic confrere.

"Aye." Ulric reported.

They sat silently for a few moments more. The Twins had risen to Midsunsrise, and the grounds of the Moot bustled around them, the goings and comings of Elves, Beastkin, and the odd Human undisturbed by the implications within this small huddle of tents.

"Would you teach me the spellform for how to create this Arcanite?" She asked, but with reservation.

"Nope." Ulric denied her easily.

Her expression didn't change, she'd not expected him to part with its specific crafting so easily. He'd already given her the theoretical knowledge necessary to understand the spell but not the explicit process to go through with it. He explained himself anyway, just to make sure she understood that he wasn't hoarding knowledge so much as he was safeguarding something incredibly hazardous. It would be like handing out nuclear codes, spreading around the spellweave for crafting [Arcanite Diamond].

"The reason, Mage Werona, is that A: you'd probably die if you tried any time soon; I have at least a decade of experience in applying techniques towards the end of working with crystals as this one, minus its magical potency. And B: when you make [Arcanite Diamond], you also, eventually, make [Arcanite Onyx], which is a whole other ball of wax."

The Sauri Adept did not so much as blink at that pronouncement, which meant she already knew about it. Apparently, the Philosopher's stone was a topic of some general knowledge in the magicking community that Ulric wasn't in on. As usual, he was playing catch up. Still, he owed it to his colleague to underscore the danger by sharing his experience from that morning. It was also useful to put into words the myriad caution flags that his lizard brain, in its primal need to ensure he remained fully assembled and breathing, was throwing.

"Unless the spellweaves conducting manaforms through it are pristinely crafted, the Arcanite will soak up mana as water pours through sand. Once saturated, which, as I understand things correctly is inevitable, it eventually will, with astonishing rapidity, turn to Deathstone spontaneously."

Werona's eyes widened at that, evidently a nugget with which she was not aware as he continued.

"Then, it explodes. Violently. But not before eating any active spellweaves around it, tearing them apart and consuming them. My failure, just a few hours ago, with all the precaution I could manage, a near success as well, I might add, probably almost detonated the camp and myself. I could not, in good conscience, loose this on the world without understanding it better." Described Ulric, speaking in the same tone he'd use to explain why playing with a fissile core was a bad idea.

"Then, what I detected earlier, like the shadow of a [Greater Thunderhawk] passing over my core, that was not the creation of the Philosopher's stone, but the Deathstone obliterating?" The Sauri mage asked, if anything, mildly relieved.

Ulric nodded, a bit numbly. He'd wondered if anybody else had felt it. Most of the energy from the event seemed to happen at the magical wavelengths, rather than the physical. Still enough to flatten him, by the way, but it had been mostly expended in the metaphysical. If that balance were not so heavily skewed, he'd be powdered Glade Chief.

Perhaps the mages of Varda already knew how to prevent the, seemingly inevitable conversion of a rather benign substance into an unfathomably destructive one. He wasn't in on the secret though. Near as he could tell, any mage that had discovered a way to generate the [Arcanite Diamond] had shortly thereafter discovered that actually using one was disastrous in the long run.

Sooner or later, just as true diamonds turned to graphite, the Philosopher's stone became Deathstone. Only, instead of that transition being a slow, observable transition, easily timed and predicted, the Arcanite Diamond transformation was, to his observation, instantaneous. And, currently, he didn’t know how to stop it, to preserve the wonder that he’d created.

The tiny little jewel of potential in his hand, this wondrous magical catalyst was, in a not so distant future, an antimagic bomb. At least it didn't have the many orders of magnitudes greater energy of a matter/antimatter collision.

Gods' blood, what would that have done? Ulric asked himself as his mouth dried at the thought.

The little thumbnail he'd made, what could it have massed, maybe ten grams? That'd be, like…a number arrived and he redid the calculation, not believing it. When it came out that an antimatter annihilation of a single dekagram of mass released about one point eight Quadrillion Joules of energy, the former engineer was ready to indulge in a good old-fashioned supplication to the unknowable.

Oh Watcher, prayed Ulric, thou who art of magnificent boobage, thank you for not letting me be so dumb as to dick with antimatter.

Accusingly, his magical counterpart inquired without preamble "You did not know about any of this when you started mucking about, did you? About the myths around Philosopher's stone and Deathstone, or any of it?"

Ulric very deliberately did not meet her eyes before admitting "I…did not. No. It just seemed like a good idea at the time?"

A loud snort accompanied his statement. Which, again, was fair.

Mage Werona was tapping her claws thoughtlessly against her teeth, which was a far more disturbing tic than he would ever be willing to tell her. Taipan, had she known, would have seen to it to carry around a set of stones and beast teeth to do at camp, just to fuck with him. Ulric suppressed a slight shudder at the casually predatory reminder that Beastkin were probably a little more beast than kin.

"Alright. I agree with your assessment, Mage Ulric." The gentle acknowledgment came, finally, Werona's muzzle dipping briefly to accompany her words.

The Sauri mage's gentle tone was contrite, as opposed to her earlier husky intensity.

"It is unlikely that I could successfully execute the casting and I have not bargained for this information. Any part my lessons played were, to my chagrin, incidental to your breakthrough. In any event, our previous arrangement stands and I must thank you for indulging my, uhm, aggressive inquiry into the nature of your discovery. I apologize for being so…abrupt."

Ulric waved her off. He couldn't blame her, not for being a little off balance. This was like his playing around with Ceraun. The Elves were, more or less, appalled that he would join himself to the electromagnetic circuit, the flow of lightning mana he used in his spells. To them, it was Not To Be Done. Suicide. For those in the know, creating stable unaspected mana, by Werona's reaction, fell into similar category.

He'd done it because he hadn't known he couldn't. More or less. And, now that he had, he strongly suspected that, just because he could, that he shouldn't. Not until he understood better the implications. For all that he was excited to put the little gem to use, envisioning amplifae for his own magic, a perfect shielding construct against enemy spells, possibilities for antimage or spellbreaker applications, Ulric was ignorant. And magic was dangerous. Dangerous for the same reason writing code was hard: the computer only did what you told it to. Magic too, moved alongside the mage's intent exactly as instructed.

There Were Consequences.

"It's fine, Werona. You are within your rights to be demanding of answers. My investigation was, perhaps, not strictly wise. Only, I did not know that at the time I began it, which seems to be happening somewhat frequently, these days. Do you think anyone else notice the influence of the [Arcanite Onyx] decomposition?" Ulric wondered aloud.

"Any being with a core in a league around this location would have felt the suppression, brief as it was. However, they may not have recognized what they felt. Mages who are versed enough to know that they were experiencing a momentary breakdown in their core's mana regulation are rare." Came the Ash Adept's immediate answer.

"And what else are you doing that might be, shall we call it, premature, for one of your tender age?" The Sauri asked, tail twitching as she took on an expression that could only be cautious suspicion, by the narrowing of her eyes and the pursing of her muzzle's lips.

So, Ulric told her about Ceraun. Not about the actual Ceraun, the elemental of vast scope hovering somewhere out in the ionosphere, but about his odd method of casting. He considered it a sort of pro bono contribution to the ways of magery, given that Werona was only the second person he'd met who seemed to have the sort of inquisitive nature and scholastic background that would make explaining it worthwhile. When he'd finished, the Sauri directed a pointed stare at him.

"You are loved by the gods and hopelessly mad." the Adept informed him.

Ulric nodded.

"My sylvan wife is of a similar opinion." He agreed.

"How have you not already killed yourself?" She asked, completely serious.

Ulric had to think on it a second, now, because he had turned that question on himself a number of times.

"Solid theoretical fundamentals, Adept Werona. Solid fundamentals and, likely, the Elementalist class has profound benefit for one such as myself, the Akashic support helping me to avoid the most hazardous pitfalls." He answered.

She frowned scarily for a moment before she too nodded. It was the only explanation that made sense. Luck never carried a mage so far before abandoning one to die tragically.

"It is as sound a hypothesis as can be asked." She decided, before adding in a murmur under her breath, "Or else it is the rest of us that are mad and this one has discovered a measure of sanity."

Poe-tay-toe. Poh-tah-toe.

One man's crazy was another man's common sense, as near as he could tell. Just look at Bald'rt. The Elf King fairly ignored matters that would, for Ulric, be a matter of life and death. Different rules applied, depending on one's power or capability. A careful calculus to determine what risks were acceptable and what known quantities could be ignored as harmless. All a guy had to do was never be wrong. Varda punished mistakes.

Ulric had made mistakes aplenty, he'd just managed to make them in such a fashion as to survive. He also hadn't made the same exact mistakes twice, had kept things interesting by fucking up in new and unforeseen ways. Such was science, you worked with what you knew, while what you didn't snuck up behind you with a heavy frying pan to brain you.

Both mages were of a similar bent and had come to terms with the uncertainties of investigating the unknown. Good scientists operated by a gambler's rationale: consider the odds and play your outs.

"Well enough then," Werona announced, grinning her toothy grin, "I have lived to see something impossible, it is a good day. Let us bend ourselves then to the completion of our exchange. You still need to fill in a few gaps for me with regards to constructing these geometrically defined mana node arrangements. I see the outcome, from your workings and the overall idea, but how does one use this so called unit cell to create the spellform?"

So, Ulric went back to showing Ash Adept Autumnclaw how to diagram a crystal lattice, making drawings in the soft earth as he did.

Things were going fantastically, right up until Prenya, blood sheeting down her face fell into the perimeter of camp yelling.

"Ulric, a manslayer!" She gasped. "From Prespang! Trying to kill Taipan, you must hurry."

Numbness, shock, but only for a moment.

[Warrior's Instinct]

[Ceraunoperception]

Instinctively, Ulric reached out for the talents that best readied him for battle. The calming readiness edging his thoughts from [Warrior's Instinct] culled the remaining surprise and channeled adrenaline into a focused intensity, a loose awareness of his surroundings. [Ceraunoperception] reached out, the field of sensitivity painting his skin with impressions of the living forms around him. Werona's presence pressed loudly on his senses with her proximity, so did Prenya, as she uncharacteristically clumsily staggered to her feet. Three meters behind him, to the eyes unseen, was a third form, blurry even through his magical perception, drawing a metal weapon, however, that registered brightly to his senses.

Ulric dipped his foot beneath the sheathed Xef'tocht that had lain by his feet and kicked it up to his hands, drawing the weapon free as he did. Simultaneously, Ceraun raged within his core spinning to its pulsing cycle even as hardened will channeled lightning.

[Surge]

The thrown knife moved with surreal speed towards where he'd been a moment earlier but he'd already evaded, a branching side step flowing into a crouch as his legs flexed.

Ulric hurtled at a speed that would have been hard to track without [Surge] and [Ceraunoperception] to act as a skintight awareness. The invisible form must have had a talent of its own, it slipped under the horizontal sweep of his enchanted sith, and darted bonelessly to the side as Ulric let [Surge] fall away, using the draining ability in pulses.

Not unscathed. The unseen would be ambusher, a beastkin of some kind, had not been prepared for detection, its dodge had left its tail raised, the latter third of which flopped to the ground, cloven free. A Sauri then.

Blood streaked through the air as the hidden form moved, almost faster than Ulric could follow, even with [Ceraunoperception], like someone dragging their finger from his left shoulder around to his backbone across his body in a mere breath. It advanced with the same oppressive speed and Ulric knew he wouldn't be able to match the pace of this enemy without burning himself out with [Surge].

Time to cheat.

[Voltaic Riot]

Ulric threw a hand into the path of the stabbing blade and a vicious arc of violet light sang into being, crackling and buzzing. This close, Ulric could feel the attacker's expression shift to surprise as it narrowly slipped by the dancing arc that left glowing, steaming glassified paths along its path. It was wasteful of mana, but it slowed the agile killer, and that was the point.

Ulric stepped behind his spell, using the moment his enemy had to spend abandoning their fatal thrust to launch his own blade in a rising diagonal cut that threatened to open it from hip to shoulder. He grinned savagely when he saw how thin the margin of its evasion, a backwards step that left a bare couple of millimeter's space between the cutting metal tip and its flesh.

The stunned form lost its invisibility, startled Sauri features stricken as they beheld the line of Xef'tocht's enchanted cutting aura. It had taken a deep wound from a blow it had known it had avoided.

"Not good enough, you fucker!" Ulric yelled triumphantly, and took a two-handed grip, advancing rapidly on the injured prey as he did. He was halfway upon the form as the slitted eyes widened at his charge and it vanished from sight, though the position of it through [Ceraunoperception] remained unchanged. Too late. He tasted victory as his blade descended.

His overhead chop would have taken the would-be killer through the collar bone, cleaving it cleanly if not for the blast of stone that pelted him in the side, knocking him into a roll before he gained his feet. It felt like he'd taken a fastball made of concrete across his ribs. When the adrenaline faded, that shit was going to hurt. It had also torn a rent in his robe,

Gray eyes scanned for the source of the spell. There, just outside his electroperception. A diminutive form in heavy plate armor with a warhammer nearly as large as it was. A dwarf? Ulric hadn't seen one before, the figure was smooth faced and elfin, a far cry from the gruff bearded forms of fairy tales. It looked almost like a small child, with too large eyes and no hair, skin bronzed, what little of it Ulric could see, which was virtually none, except for its head. A great helmet it held cupped in the crook of its arm, the hammer held with worryingly casual ease in the other hand and its expression was purely disgusted.

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"Bollocks. Yherska cocked up the timing. Again." Came the menacing baritone, at odds with the childish features.

"Quert, if you haven't noticed, the mark sees you through the damned cloak. You can save yourself the blighted trouble and maybe spend a little effort keeping yer fookin guts where they belong. Asides, ye're leaving a trail of blood good as a map." The armored dwarf scoffed, an odd drawl mixed with standard dialect.

The Svartalfin grounded the hammer's head, which left a deep divot to declare its mass. Then the newcomer spat into its palms and rubbed them together like a lumber jack getting ready to go to work and slipped the heavy helm into place over its bald dome. A loud metallic ring, like a struck anvil, accompanied the act and the form blurred in Ulric's electrical sense, as if the armored form had become stone. The armor was an artifact.

"I'm sorry about the tail, by the by. We'll get you a proper healer when the job's done, if you're still alive." the deep voice sounded hollowed from within the slit visored helmet, like it was speaking from inside an iron bell.

Adept Autumnclaw was recovering from her shock at the sudden onset of violence. She drew up to her full height, towering over the other individuals in the clearing, her tail lashed furiously with her discontent. Her muzzle had peeled back into a rather impressive snarl, and she wrapped Prenya up in a protective grip, easily lifting the Elf with one arm.

"You have broken the peace of the Moot, the both of you." She declared, her normally refined tone roughened by anger.

"By the laws of our hosts, this ambush makes your lives forfeit. I will not sit idle while you attempt murder." the Mage hissed.

"Begging the Lady's pardon, but I'll go through you if you get in the way. Them's the rules." The Dwarf responded, hefting its ridiculously large weapon easily.

The Ashmage retorted in cinder and smoke, sending a wave of pyroclastic magic to wash over the Dwarf. Ulric knew from experience that the temperature within that cloud would be vicious, fit to blacken metal and char flesh to nothing. Whirling black clouds, shot through by glowing embers roiled for a handful of breaths. The accomplice to the would-be ambusher would be broiled to a husk, right about now.

Ulric gawked in astonishment as the armored form walked free of the cloud unharmed, armor free of even a sign of its exposure to molten heat. The grass seared in its footsteps though, from the latent energy. He'd seen some feats of magic before but this…he'd need a new category for invulnerability. Judging by Werona's shocked expression she hadn't witnessed such a thing before either.

The Svartalfin gave a brief snort and commented with a tone laden with mockery, "Never seen Rune Armor afore have ye?"

Without any show of concern, the great hammer head was rested on steaming mud and sank halfway up its business end by sheer weight. The gauntleted hands rose and large, wide pauldrons lifted as the Dwarf shrugged, the gesture exaggerated greatly by the armor's bulk.

"Well, no surprises. Those cunts ruling on their pretty thrones in the Bones of the Heaven's Reach don't have the balls to do more than put on a show in it. Turning unlucky bastards like you and your Brownie, the interfering mage too, now, into corpses, that's what it's good for. And ye'll never put a scratch on it."

With sudden violence, the hammer juggernaut snatched the unadorned metal haft of its weapon, easily lifting it high before bringing it down thunderously, crashing into the clearing floor. Instead of sinking into the soft loamy soil the ground suddenly cratered, solid as rock, and fist sized stones hurtled free in jagged chucks, like a shotgun towards him.

Ulric had been [Overcharging] his lightning bolt spell and nearly lost it as he was caught within the edge of the cone.

*Thud*

He felt harsh impact against his thigh and hip even as he leapt aside. Dimly some part of him registered that the Svartalfin had used some kind of Terra spell or class ability. His desperation dive put him on his side, pain radiating from the glancing impacts of solid rock and he drug a bone throwing knife free of its leg sheath. A sidearm throw sent the knife spinning, primed to his magic and bringing Ceraun to bear as it whirled to intercept the armored Dwarf. His enemy didn't even twitch as the bone soared past his shoulder and Ulric loosed the heavily charged magic.

[Lightning Javalin]

The clearing split, divided by jagged lightning and thunder blasted as the bolt struck the small assailant.

Scintillating energies from the spell ribboned around the metal plates for an instant before diving into the earth where the plated boots stood. Random sparks licked across the grass before the mana dwindled, spent. Not a smudge evidenced the result of the spell that had served Ulric so well. And he'd put some heavy oomph into it, he'd turned a pyromancer adept into vapor through a half-depleted barrier with that much juice.

Fucking ground types, Ulric cursed to himself, the mocking commentary from a game centuries old coming oddly to his mind in these desperate times.

Shaking his head, Ulric tried to keep the sudden dismay from his face at the sight of one of his best weapons being rendered useless. A quick glance found Werona where she had stood, mostly unharmed except for a ragged tear in her robe and an arm held close to her body, already discolored by the bludgeoning stone projectiles, the other still holding Prenya’s form safely. A shimmering barrier like nested hexagons made of black ceramic, cracked and pitted by stone shrapnel fell apart around her. The shield spell had been partially broken by the force of the Terra their attacker had wielded against them.

The ravening instinct to slay all challengers was rising up, and Ulric suppressed it ruthlessly. He had to keep calm, had to play this with his head. These enemies were prepared and, for the first time he'd seen, they had direct countermeasures for his primary magic. They had to be dealt with, so he could go to Taipan. He concentrated on the Dwarf, taking in its features, the details of the metal plates, the emblazoned symbols carved into the metal of the hammer head and peered into the Akashic connection to the Dwarf.

[Scan]

He grimaced as he felt a sharp twinge behind his eyes, his attempt to garner more information repelled, painfully. Probably a feature of the Rune Armor. Bastard.

"Doesn't work. Rune Armor." Commented the Dwarf dismissively. "But not a bad try there, Mark." Praised the little juggernaut, "Not bad at all. Never did the Client say ye could call lightning from the hand, and more than a little. That little nugget's a’going to cost him dear when we claim the purse. Mages run triple in our line of work."

The little fucker wasn't even being sarcastic. Business as usual, was written in the tone. Which meant these were hitters. Heavy ones. Which meant they probably had some connection with the slavers back in Trachn'ir. Even more reason to see them reaching room temperature. But how? His mind raced, the adrenaline and [Warrior's Instinct] lending him focus. A good thing too, he hadn't forgotten the Sauri stealther.

As if his thoughts were being read, Ulric didn't get a chance to consider it further, the thin Sauri went invisible again, and, this time, it was targeting his colleague, who couldn't see it. It had slathered something on its wounds from its belt, sealing the cut, and was coming. Fast.

"Ware! The invisible one is coming on your left!" Ulric yelled to Werona, before climbing to his feet and readying his sword.

Ulric's instincts told him to shorten the range, meet the Dwarf, to limit the use of that dangerous shotgunning rock attack.

He closed with the armored form, using the rapid staccato movement of the Elves to approach at an angle, narrowly avoiding a swipe of the metal weapon. Without pause, evasion turned into offense, and the Reforged man activated his [Surge] amplifying his strike to send his blade into the armored form's short ribs, where a small seam allowed the wearer to bend at the waist. The blow was about as hard as he could manage, singing through the air at the figure, which stood only as high as his ribs.

Again, the Dwarf ignored his attempts to harm it, as it recovered from its missed strike. The Deathless Steel Artifact blade screeched across artifact armor slinging white hot sparks, Xef'tocht's cutting power directed with all Ulric could muster. The Dwarf thrust the head of its weapon at Ulric's chest as his stroke completed and he dipped away, knowing the hit would probably cave him in.

Ulric returned to his Undan and gritted his teeth. Hitting the little bastard had felt like swinging a bat into a metal pole, his hands hurt. At least his sword wasn't notched.

But, for the first time, the assailant in front of him received an unwelcome surprise, its helmet ducking as it inspected the results of the blow. For once, the armor showed damage. A long, clean, gouge maybe as thick as a ruler along the line of his cut. Ulric would only need to repeat that about a half dozen times to get through to flesh. Fuck. Meanwhile, that hammer would mash him into paste if it grazed him. So be it.

He stepped into another cut, his advantage in speed obvious, and beat the diminutive killer's attempted parry, drawing another marring line across gauntleted hands and wrist. Short chopping strokes warded him away and they returned to their respective ready stances.

"Ye've mussed my armor, Mark." Growled the rough voice, anger evident, and, perhaps, a grudging respect.

Up went the hammer, high overhead, a bombastic open position that showed complete disregard for any damage Ulric might do. He felt a twisting of mana, like a ping of Terra against his core that screamed "Bad Shit Coming" to his senses.

[Surge]

Ulric blurred sideways as the hammer came down, a forest of stone spikes ripped out from the ground to spear him from below, following his motion with only a moment of delay. He stood behind the Dwarf's shoulder as his enhancement ended, the rock spears terminating a bare half meter away. Without his rapid movement he'd have been skewered.

No time to counter. The armored figure was already turning, spinning like an Olympic hammer thrower, bringing the massive weapon around, a spike of stone now coating its head, like a huge pick.

The Svartalfin assassin swung the thing like it weighed nothing at all. Ulric used his physique to its fullest, jumping high towards his enemy, tucking his legs to his chest, feeling the wind move beneath him as the Terra infused weapon passed beneath him. Gravity asserted itself and the Elve’s training took over, he angled Xef'tocht downwards in a double hammer grip stab, lining the blade up with the helmet's eye slit as he descended.

For the first time, the eyes inside showed a sense of threat, the figure stepped back, overswinging as it did and losing the firmness of its stance, the deep blue sith passed where its face had been. Having narrowly avoided impalement, the Svartalfin heavyweight couldn't avoid another shower of white sparks that creased its pauldrons and breastplate with a new scar, drawing another curse from the Dwarf.

Ulric landed cleanly and used the brief opening to jam the razored pommel at the hired killer's throat, coming from below the chin, one of the only gaps in its adamantine defenses. A gauntleted hand intercepted the thrust, stopping him jarringly cold and Ulric yelled as the tiny opponent flung him bodily away, nearly ripping his sword from his grip as it did. He landed on his back and slid across the clearing, breathless a moment before he regained his feet.

How the fuck strong was that Svartalfin?

"That is so unfair." He complained under his breath, wheezing slightly.

He couldn't hurt the Dwarf. At all. The armor grounded his lightning and tanked the Tephras magic without harm, somehow preventing the figure inside from cooking in the absurd heat. Ulric's mind whirled, options flashing through his mind as the Dwarf righted its helmet, slightly askew from its own gauntlet hitting it when the tank cast Ulric away like a kitten.

The Artifact Plate wearing killer gave him no space, wading in with great strokes that would shatter Ulric if they touched him. They went back and forth, mostly with Ulric going back and his opponent coming forth. Metal rang and Ulric only spared the odd glance to shout the position of the ninja every couple of seconds, hoping Werona could keep it off his back while guarding his Legranel host and lover.

Once, Ulric tried to parry with his sword, as he'd learned with Taipan, and nearly dislocated his shoulder, abandoning the attempt halfway. His hip twinged as he launched himself to the ground, unceremoniously diving to the dirt to avoid being brained. Alright, so, don't try that again, he noted as he clambered to his feet. Again. How many times was this already? What about with some magnetic assistance?

The hammer came again and, this time, Ulric employed the Ohmic Knight ability [Maxwell's Parry] to magnetically deflect the downstroke to the side. He might as well have tried to turn a charging elephant aside.

Oooph! He gasped, breathless as Newton's Third Law had its way with him.

For his trouble, Ulric was launched four meters into a canvas tent, tearing it down around him as he ripped through the fabric. He grunted involuntarily as the wind left him briefly, the impact softened by the tent. After an endless panicked moment, limbs tangled, a few short swipes of his weapon cut a hole through tough material and Ulric climbed out of the ruins.

It had only taken a couple of seconds, and he felt the Dwarf where he'd left off, pulling its hammer out of the dirt. Bastard. Panting, Ulric caught his breath for a second and took stock.

Up! His instincts suddenly screamed. He jumped again, two meters vertical, flattening out like a high jumper, narrowly evading the incoming javalins of Terra that buried themselves into the dirt below. Projectiles that had attempted to spear him through the vision blocking canvas.

Sharpened slabs of rock destroyed the remaining contents of the tent, flinging wreckage away and pinning the material to the ground. As he landed, balanced, and he would kiss Idra if he ever saw the Elf again, he kicked off one of the rigid projectiles and thanked his lucky stars for his persistence practicing the detection spell.

It only thanks to [Ceraunoperception] that he'd been able to read the incoming Terra missiles.

The armored figure had grounded its weapon again, now held its hands outstretched towards him, drawing stone from the rock below, somehow not creating a pit while it did.

Curious later Ulric, not dying now! He screamed at himself as three more salvos followed, each coming closer than the last before Ulric got in range to put a slash across the Dwarf's visor that made him refocus on melee.

A few close dodges and some more nicks in the armor, is all he managed to accomplish before returning to a somewhat neutral position in the camp clearing a minute later, breathing hard from the exertion. Both fighters evaluated the other. The Svartalfin fairly radiated frustration, for all that Ulric couldn't see its features through the helmet. Unfortunately, Ulric couldn't find much humor in the situation, in spite of his opponent being not so much a fan of fighting him anymore.

Strength like a giant. Heavy as all hell. Terra magic. Nigh unto invulnerable armor. Big fucking hammer. Options? The only weakness Ulric could find was the visor's slit and getting an opportunity there meant getting in reach of the little titan's weapon. He couldn't stop the bastard, couldn't restrain its movements, couldn't get an angle without being left vulnerable to a killing blow. The former Engineer's thoughts attacked the problem as they took stock of each other and their respective resources.

With the space he had as the Dwarf reset its feet, he saw that Mage Autumnclaw was having her own troubles, though less than he. The other assassin, a Sauri, like herself, wearing what appeared to be the gear vaguely reminiscent of a black leather clad ninja, was dodging a stream of whips made of ash, each one carrying blistering fires within, if the steaming clouds where they struck the cool earth were any indication.

Where Tiny over there was powerful, if a little slow, this guy was quick and agile. The stealth killer was, however, missing a beat with the loss of blood and about a half meter of tail, not to mention the gaping, if no longer freely bleeding wound up its body.

Honestly? The Tephras Adept was in way better shape than himself, even encumbered. Ulric turned his attention back to the Artifact Plate wearing dickhead. If only the ground were covered in ice, it'd serve the jerkoff right to go sliding around everywhere.

Wait a second.

Ulric grinned evilly. There you go, he told himself. That's thinking with your dipstick Jimmy, he can't move around if he can't get any traction. He can't swing that hammer if he can't get his feet under him.

"I don't know what's got yer gob smiling, but at least you die happy Mark." Said the miniature colossus as it advanced on Ulric.

[White Interference]

Ulric channeled mana into the spell to revert his lightning natured magic, useless against this foe, into a reservoir to use one of his old spells, as he had once used it to create tracks for a sled.

Ulric rushed in aggressively and the Dwarf readied itself to paste him. Chance! The juggernaut took a single step forward, launching its hammer into a pounding overhead and Ulric molded Caelum.

[Skyshield]

Magic whirled into a disk of hardened air beneath the descending booted foot. The frictionless plate of air shattered but the Dwarf's weight and momentum punished him, his lead foot lurched forward and his legs parted into a nasty split and his, definitely his, voice cried agony.

"Ahhhh! My fookin tackle!” The awkwardly scrambling figure yelled while warding him away with deceptively light swings of a half-hafted hammer.

“You whoreson Valin ape, I'll eat yer guts." Moaned the Dwarf, setting his once more.

Ulric had the pleasure of noting that his foe was using the massive hammer as a cane, one gauntleted hand over his maybe torn groin. A short reprieve, but a needed one.

How quickly the tides turn. A game of cat and mouse ensued. Circling, Ulric forced the heavy opponent to turn, to keep him in sight. Even winded, hurting from various glancing strikes from Terra spells, Ulric was faster than his enemy.

And He Had a Plan. His opportunity came sooner than expected, the plate suited pint sized goliath swung that massive hammer around in a sideways stroke, trying to force Ulric to stop his circling.

A half backstep, the slightest of dodges left the wind of the hammer ruffling his clothes and Ulric braced himself hard against the soft earth.

[Maxwell's Parry]

Magnetic force plied against the passing hammer, throwing it fiercely away, using the strength of the Dwarf and the mass of his weapon against him, ruining his balance. He took a single step to brace himself and Ulric put another barrier of air beneath the foot, dragging the impossibly heavy Artifact armor over, causing his enemy to topple, at last, to his back. Vulnerable, for the first time.

The Dwarf tried to roll, couldn't, with its hammer on top of its chest plate, threw the weapon aside. Heavy gauntlets ripped muddy tracks instead of finding purchase, but Ulric was already on top of the downed foe, the howling instinct in his mind finally in tune with the rest of him.

This time, with a right handed overhand chop of his own, carrying all the strength he could muster behind it, Ulric returned his enemy's battering favor towards the slitted visor. A gauntleted arm raised overhead to catch the blow and the ringing collision nearly caused him to lose Xef’tocht, the hilt almost dropping from innervate hands.

Brilliant sparks flew once more, blinding both for a moment. The only moment Ulric would ever need.

He grimaced through the brightness and the mounting pains, used his [Ceraunoperception] to feel the prone dwarf's position and fell over his enemy, crouching.

Xef'tocht was torn away, the Svartalfin's might overpowered him easily as the titanic strength slung his weapon wide, and a gauntleted hand reached for his head, to crush him, exposing his slitted helmet for once to destroy Ulric.

Too slow! Ulric crowed alongside the urges of the Lord Instinct.

Ignoring the loss of his primary weapon, Ulric's left hand, the one he'd kept hidden behind his turning hip, flashed forwards in a stab towards the visor, coated in the glacial power of Infrig. Ice magic, wrought devastation on the exposed enemy, the [Iceblade] slid easily through the hateful, glaring eyes behind that helmet, parting a skull made brittle by shear cold. Frosted steam poured briefly from the visor, bloodless wounds frozen closed before they could pulse the life blood from the Svartalfin's dying body.

Instead of wet heat, tiny shards of crimson hoarfrost hit Ulric's face as he ripped the Infrig dagger free. He was nearly toppled, courtesy of spasming limbs, involuntary twitches from a rime coated brain, that almost threw him aside before the armored form stilled.

Looking up from where he'd crouched over the fallen Dwarf, taking hard rough breaths from the brutal action of his victory, Ulric saw the form of his calm, collected colleague, the dignified scholastic presence of Werona Autumnclaw.

The composed mage was nowhere to be found. In her place was a bestial ravager and, at the moment, she was biting the head from the Sauri ninja, who she had pinned to the ground with a burning net of Tephras. The other wounds upon the, now definitely a corpse, including burns, ropy loops of intestine, and other assorted missing bits, testified that she hadn't started with the head. A final wet ripping noise and a throaty howl of savage glee announced the end of the combat. The mauled head rolled across the clearing, spat contemptuously by his erstwhile academic comrade.

Ulric Einar, a man from a peaceful life who had, nevertheless witnessed and engaged in bloodshed on numerous occasions in this new life, was not ashamed to admit the sight to be a little nauseating.

I mean, he told himself, I'm not fucking eating them. Gods' blood. He put Do Not Fuck with Ms. Autumnclaw on his mental checklist. Parts of the dead would be hitman were still dripping from her jaws. Like, little chunks of him. Fuck.

When the Tephras mage noticed his observation, she realized what she was doing and grew abashed. It was kind of cute, in a surprised velociraptor kind of way. Hurriedly, the Sauri wiped her gore coated muzzle with the torn sleeve of her robe, which did not greatly help, merely distributed the cooling blood in a great smear across her face and clothes.

Abandoning the project as hopelessly, Werona smiled sheepishly, scarily, given what those pearly whites had just done, and stepped over the ravaged assassin’s body to tend to Prenya, whom had gotten discarded at some point in the chaos.

The Elf woman was not in good shape, and Ulric felt a flash of concern when he realized she’d gotten caught in the fight, and hadn’t escaped unscathed. She’d been injured before, when she’d come into the camp, had suffered a gnarly cut to her forehead and, by the swelling, a rather hard blow to the back of the head. Very probably, the Herdrider was concussed. Now, she also had about five relatively deep wounds from the initial stone shrapnel spell, the ones that had broken through the Ash shield.

A worrying amount of blood was escaping from a ragged hole just above her hip bone. The Sauri Tephras mage started stemming the blood flow and Ulric staggered over to their shared tent, now sporting multiple holes in its fabric, to dig through his pack for first aid kit. He was starting to feel the battering himself, and the depletion of his reserves. Muscles screamed protestation against having been [Surged] rapidly, and his joints were starting to stiffen, to refuse to obey so readily to his mind’s commands.

He ended up just hauling the pack over to Werona and they extracted the needed goods and spent a brisk minute doing what they might for the various hurts on the young Elf. Ulric figured the fight had not gone unnoticed, Legranel had scattered at the onset of the hostilities, and somebody would be along shortly. Probably. Regardless, Ulric couldn’t stay. As much as he wanted to tend his third wheel lover, he had to find Taipan. Mage Autumnclaw was already doing everything he could think of to do. The Svartalfin heavy had mentioned a third party, probably the one that had attacked Taipan.

Pushing himself erect, Ulric took a few deep breaths, assessing himself. He had a few, okay, so maybe a lot of bruises. The one on his hip in particular was throbbing fantastically. He was soaked to the skin and caked with dirt from being thrown to the mud, several times, and, now that the fighting was over shivers of chill would not be far off.

He could barely feel his hands which were half numb from the ringing collisions with the mini titan's artifact armor and hammer. To top it off, he had about a tenth of his mana left, maybe, and the full body ache told him that another [Surge] or two was going to render him bedridden or in need of a Sano mage's attention. So…good enough? Good enough, Ulric squared himself to go to his Shadow's aid.

Which resolution was unnecessary, because the woman herself, dragging an unconscious female Leor Beastkin, strode into camp, dropping her baggage unceremoniously as she did.

Taipan looked like she'd walked into a jet engine's intakes, clothes savaged, numerous small, thin cuts striping her arms, legs, torso, and even a few that disappeared into her hairline. By the looks of it, she'd almost lost both eyes, one to a vertical cut that dropped from her cheek to her collarbone, the other to a slice from the bridge of her nose through her eyebrow up to her short hair, which had locks shorn unevenly from it. Her bow, carried in hand instead of on her back had had its string cut.

She more or less looked like he felt. Ulric gave passing thought to how hot she'd be with the new scars before stuffing his hindbrain back into its cage. Adrenaline does weird shit to you.

Glittering emerald eyes, bronze metallic flakes of her heritage took in the battered camp and the disheveled Glade Chief. Stone spears jutting from the ground, fragments of rock everywhere, ruined tents and a fireplace in shambles spoke volumes, as did the streaks of blood painting the clearing, all telling a story. Both corpses received an assessing glare before she turned her gaze on him.

Coolly, Ulric's life bonded Shadow and devoted sylvan wife inquired "How did you fare so poorly against the little one?"

The relief he’d been feeling at her safe, well, mostly safe, return vanished. Ulric couldn't help the incredulous laughter as he raised his hands and looked around for support that was not to be found.

Freaking Taipan, he remarked to himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry Taipan, I guess I just left my Artifact armor can opener in my other pants.” Groused the battered man.

“I was so busy reinventing miracle magic this morning, it plum slipped my mind that I had a date with a meter and a half tall asshole with giant strength and his invisible ninja fuckbuddy! No, I just had to go and ruin the afternoon getting my ass beat while I worried myself into an early grave that you’d maybe been murdered by the dick behind door number three! Don’t I just have egg on my face?!” Ulric had built up to a good solid shout at the end.

His cinnamon skinned partner winced at the volume and cleared an ear with her finger. Her slow reveal of white teeth, grinning at his discomfit, revealed her joy in teasing him.

“There is no need to howl like a burned [Amberfang], Glade Chief. It is well that I am around to clean up after you.” She said, twisting the knife, “You did not even manage to take one alive. Not to worry! I have secured mine assailant, and she will be capable of speaking before long!”

Eyes closed, teeth grinding, Ulric tried to pretend his Shadow was a ghost that could be exercised by triple distilled thought profanity. He cursed her within the darkness of his mind. He spoke things inside his heart about her that would make their first meeting seem a chivalrous knight’s courting poem. When he opened his eyes, he found his wife’s triumphant smile waiting.

“Oh! Before I forget, I should also mention that I have broken through my block. My class advanced and I am now able to use three of mine abilities in concert. Take heart mine love, I will be able to keep you safe from your future foes with ease, to prevent further humiliations as this one.” Gloated the black hearted Huntress.

Freaking Taipan.

Once the exultation wore off, Ulric always felt like hell following a fight.

The adrenaline, the mana exhaustion, and, most recently, the after effects of [Surge]. While it paled compared to the outright exhaustion that came from using [Core Capaciter] to squeeze his core like a juicer into a spell of ultimate power, it had more extreme effects on his actual body. Joints and muscle attachments specifically.

Imagine max rep day at the gym only you decided to just do it for every muscle group, like a mongoloid pump addict hopped up on caffeine doses that would render an ox hypertensive and with a side of a nice cycle of the juice. That was what [Surge] did to him. Problem was, it was just too damned useful not to employ when his ass was on the line. It was the first time these wacky classes seemed to directly amplify him in a way that was so very tangible. Power like that was more than a little addictive.

Ulric was, not to be over proud about it, a specimen, thanks to the workings of the Watcher. For a guy only a little over two meters tall he was built like he pulled stumps for a living. And, while a big part of that was part of the Watcher's cosmic yoink, a not inconsequential part of it was due to how insanely active his life had been.

Between his time spent in the wilderness, living the neolithic life of a subsistence hunter and his time with the Iriel'en, being run through the accelerated program they'd give their most talented soldiers, the end of which was to produce the shock troops for which the Aes'r were feared by other races, he was fit in the extreme.

Human in name only, was Bald'rt Iriel's assessment.

Ulric was well past worrying about that asterisk in his status. Which was why, when [Surge] was active, he was able to truly reach the realm of the inhuman. Fast and agile as the Aes'r, if less coordinated, and almost as strong as a Beastkin, if not so purely huge. Alas, all good things involved compromise. His bodily integrity, for one. His mana pool, for another. [Surge] drew mana intensely, a firehose pressurizing the mana from his core into sheer physicality through means that he didn't pretend to understand, but paralleled what Bathe Iriel, known as the Golden Beast amongst her people, was capable of, if far lesser. Bathe could explain it, had been instructing him in the methods for body magic but he was a novice, it was his Ohmic Knight class doing the heavy lifting.

Not worth worrying about right now.

No indeed. He turned his attention to his Shadow and her trophy. The catlike traits of the Beastkin were only marginally intact. Ears ragged, an eye missing, three puckering wounds where it looked like an arrow had been broken off, and, most telling, deep, spiraling cuts, like a propeller prop had savaged the assassin's back and torso.

Pointing towards the unconscious but stabilized hitter, against whom his Shadow claimed to have elevated past a threshold in her already fearsome abilities, Ulric decided to get into figuring out what exactly the fuck was going on here. While he addressed the Iriel'en, he kept an eye out on the first aid being plied to Prenya by the Sauri Ash mage.

"Alright Taipan, oh Viper most majestic, tell me what happened that you brought half a corpse that looks like you ran it through a wood chipper first."

The Elf adopted a somehow even more smug posture. Proud of her murdery prowess was his lady wife.

Ignoring her own wounds she proclaimed, "I was minding mine own business, carrying out the tasks we discussed when I noticed that someone was filling my steps. When more casual attempts to throw them from my trail failed, I determined that one of our foes had found us and made to turn their tailing into an ambush."

Attacking first in the name of self-defense, Ulric chuckled to himself, wincing at his ribs. Now wasn't that just Taipan all over?

"The poison in my quiver was dry, for the second time, an oversight on my part that will not be repeated, and the arrow I put into her midsection was not sufficient to defeat her. Her skill with twin sabers was impressive and she deflected my follow-up shots, preventing a crippling hit while she closed on me." Narrated Taipan, savoring the memory of the fight.

"The Leor's rush was as good as some of the Royal guards, near in skill to Kryr'st. I took the cuts to my face then, she was trying to blind me and severed my bowstring while she did. She was not prepared for me to drive the arrows I had been holding into her chest when she struck and I gained space to draw my knife. We probed and feinted before I took an unwise engagement and was ribboned before I could force the [Bloodseeker] back, her abilities and skills were well developed. Oh! And she carried a pendant that rebuffed my [Scan], which was most of why I was caught off guard in the first place." His Wife said, lips twisting in a frown, as if at a bitter tasting herb.

"Impatience and over eagerness cost her victory though. She began taunting me with the knowledge that her comrades would be finding you. I…found that I was not willing to allow another failure. I am your Shadow, Ulric. None are allowed to have you. It is difficult to explain." Taipan's voice lowered as she started to mutter, her ears twitched.

Ahh, she's embarrassed to say she cares, Ulric thought. He very carefully did not grin at her, the Elf woman was proud and he wouldn’t be so crass as to tease her for caring about him.

Shaking her head and narrowing her eyes, she hurried on, as if to bypass the opportunity for a prodding joke, "Whatever reservations fell away and I achieved the oneness of purpose that Idra'se always preached. As if following a natural understanding for how to use them, my powers manifested more strongly and I wove Iskios into an armored form that blurred my opponent's sight of me and allowed me to shape the blades that are normally only so potently useful at night. It was only a matter of a few moments to rip my way through her defenses and cripple her from there. Whatever skill heals her closed her wounds but did not repair her spine. Possibly because my magic now has a more intensely disruptive quality." She ended, radiating satisfaction again from the telling of her conquering of her foe.

Well then, Ulric thought. She had been saying she was on the edge of a breakthrough. He guessed it had to happen sooner or later, what with all the bullshit they'd been put through.

Curious, he focused on the form of his Shadow, her figure, her salved wounds, and the fierce pride in her glittering eyes.

[Scan]

He tried not to gawp too hard at the already preening woman but it was a struggle. What the fuck?

Did Elves mature their abilities in massive leaps and jumps or something? The slight improvements in her base stats were modest, but Ulric had a feeling were slightly unusual for a mature Elf, maybe an aspect of her admittedly top notch pedigree.

But that wasn't the wild part, no. The crazy part was that Taipan's shadow mana-based skills were an order of magnitude improved compared to before. Comprehensively more powerful, less intensely limited by the effects of daylight, and other strong sources of brightness, and last but certainly not fucking least, she had a trait that allowed her to shadow walk.

He shook his head at her. So much for winning against her in any future spars. She didn't have gold hair or anything but her power level was definitely a cut above now.

No wonder the Leor looked like she'd been savaged by industrial machinery. He wondered how her abilities would have fared against that sonofabitching Dwarf's armor? If Xef'tocht hadn't been able to cut it, probably not great but he had a feeling she'd have found a way to stick something into that visor a hell of a lot sooner than he had. He found himself smiling in spite of himself. His precious Shadow was all grown up!

"Okay, okay, you're amazing alright?" Ulric conceded, granting his partner her deserving adulation, "I don't know how you did it but, wow. I thought I could pull off some spooky horseshit but you have taken the cake lady."

"Now, if you don't mind, can we see about patching you up before your marvelousness bleeds out?" Ulric checked, not bothering to let her know she was being slightly ridiculous.

"I will allow it, Glade Chief. But only if you continue to praise the greatness of me properly." His humble wife permitted.

Ja Ja Ja, Ulric caught himself saying. He realized at some point, while he dressed the various nicks and shallow cuts on his Taipan's body that she was swiftly becoming more akin to her mother.

Less randomly edgy, but more concentrated and focused. It was a good thing. It also meant that he could foresee a future in which he was almost certainly going to be husband to a Dragonlady. Hmm…he didn't mind at all. Somebody had to keep his ass in line and the gods knew it wouldn't be him. First thing that caught his curiosity would have him getting into who knew what kind of trouble. A solid slap across her rump announced that the treatment was done and her high-pitched yelp and not entirely unhappy scolding accompanied their return to Werona and her now much more stable patient Prenya.

Crouching down, Ulric whispered to the Sauri mage "How is she? Is there anything we can do to help?"

A clawed hand gently felt the forehead of the injured Herdrider, checking temperature before she placed large, yet delicate fingers to count the pulse.

"I do not believe so." Answered Werona tiredly, "The puncture wounds are closed as best as can be done until the Sano mages arrive and I detect no sign that her vitals are fading. I believe her life is safe."

Satisfied that all was as well as it might be she absent mindedly stood from her crouch, nearly stumbling, and Ulric nearly fell over as her shoulder brushed into his chest hard. He caught himself, and arrested the tripping woman, and saw a panicked expression on the draconian Mage's expression.

"Ah! Apologies Ulric! I am afraid I am tired. My strength is taxed. Overtaxed, if I am being honest." Babbled Werona, abashed at her lack of grace.

He waved her off quickly. The clumsiness was humanizing, a reminder that behind their intimidating looks, the Sauri lady was still just a person. More than a person, she’d saved his ass, she got to call herself a friend in his book.

"It's fine, I'm fine. Think nothing of it Werona. As a matter of fact, it's probably me that owes you an apology. It's a near certainty that these people were after me and my partner and I got you roped into this. Furthermore, without your help taking that assassin off my flanks, I probably wouldn't have made it out of that scrap. Thank you, Adept Werona, truly. I am in your debt." Ulric told her sincerely.

"As am I, Honored Mage. For your help against my mate's foes and for tending my friend Prenya." Echoed Taipan.

They didn't get a chance to say anything more on account of a score of Legranel Elves piled into the remains of the camp, weapons ready and looking like they hoped someone did something silly. Too late and a dollar short, Ulric thought somewhat ungenerously, typical coppers. Not that it was their fault. Who expects a gang of hitmen to just wander into your once in a century meeting and start fucking things up?

The Elves took in the sight of two corpses, both dressed for warfare, one of them pretty badly mauled, and a bound Beastkin that was, to all appearances, more than half killed. Beside them were a heavily bandaged cousin of their people and two Otherkin both bearing signs of having been thoroughly mussed and tossed about, though not badly hurt. They ran the numbers and came up with an approximation of the scenario, to which their immediate response was to leave half the guards behind to keep an eye on the situation while the rest of them went to go find someone in a higher pay grade to deal with the situation.

Taipan had taken a seat on the only stump available, while Ulric went to retrieve his sword from where the Svartalfin heavy had thrown it. When he got back he saw the strain of the fight and her injuries on the form of his partner. Her face was drawn tight and her closed eyes pinched. Ulric did what any man who wishes not to sleep on the couch does in that situation. He got her a bed made from the wreck of their tents and cooked dinner. She gladly sprawled out, trying not to aggravate the myriad of minor wounds.

Prenya came to while he did, and informed them that they owed her an explanation in repayment for her tent, which seemed fair. Then she demanded assistance, which she got, and snuggled Taipan gently and went back to sleep.

Werona had remained mostly silent the entire time. Ulric wasn't a great feeler of feelings or anything but the glances she shot him on occasion, and the studious way she pointedly never looked at the torn body of the ninja told him that she was greatly ashamed of having gone all feral.

She needn't have. People had tried to kill her, she was allowed to be as savage as she needed to be to preserve herself and anyone she wished to keep safe. Besides, Ulric was the last guy that could call somebody on getting too gung ho with the MDK. He had a little would be [Forest Lord] ghost living in his skull. Still. Given that he was more likely to make his comrade in the arcane arts more uncomfortable, not less, the silver-tongued devil he, Ulric stayed quiet and tended supper.

Things had come to an almost peace when the Leor killer woke up and immediately began howling such vile profanities as to make Ulric want a pad of paper and a pen. It was downright educational.

In between her threats to flay them, salt them, and eat them still kicking from the feet to their heads, the Leor bragged of her litany of murders. If it was all truth, not the deranged ravings of a psychopath living glory in their own head, this Beastkin was a serial killer of the highest order, responsible for well over two hundred deaths. Mostly innocents at nearly random, rather than targets of her profession.

Ulric was disgusted. This creature should not be alive. How she had avoided attracting the attention of powers that be was incredible. Unless. She hadn't avoided that attention and had instead garnered it early and been swept up under its aegis. Yeah, Ulric told himself, that's the higher probability outcome, this maniac had been shielded from justice, to be a dagger they could employ at need.

It was nearly enough to put him off his feed except that the day had been what one might call "a motherfucker" and he'd eat if he had to scrape scraps of murdering sonsofbitches off it first. Unsurprisingly, both Taipan and Werona took part in the repast with him, glad for sustenance. Ulric had lost none of his touch with the spice and the cook fire. Lunatic madness played background accompaniment to supper, before one of the guards tired of having their sleep disturbed by the wickedness and went to stuff a gag into the mad killer's mouth.

Just as he did, the insane rambling and threats started to congeal into something more menacingly specific.

"Your children will not be safe this time you Knife ears tree huggers! No sanctuaries will hide you this time, no!" Jeered the hacked-up murderess.

Both Ulric and his partner found themselves staring at the bound figure against their wills, which brought a ragged, drooling smile to the Leor's face.

"Oh? Have your attention now?" Taunted the assassin.

"It is a shame. I would have liked to have been there to see the looks on their faces when your people realize that they are no longer hidden. Such a slaughter will there be, not a gatherer, craftsman, child, nor elder will remain when the ashes cool. Root and branch will you Elves be torn, and the Bane scattered on what is left to poison even the memory of those place!" giggled the mad Leor killer.

Taipan's eyes widened and Ulric heard himself suck in a breath.

Laughter echoed through the clearing, suddenly aborted as the cackling form started coughing from the exertion, her wounds reopening to bleed freely.

"Such irony! Morion thought he sold slaves for coin. The fool never thought that all his riches were garnered to make Bane reagents, to end his people once and for good. Even when the idiot paid us to kill the man who took his son, he knew nothing. It is delicious." Slurred the hateful creature and it said no more as it passed out.

Shocked silence ruled the clearing, even the Lagranel guards being stunned into torpor.

Werona broke the freeze, her voice seeming too loud in the heavy atmosphere.

"Is there a way to verify that what this monster says is true?" She asked, hesitantly.

With good reason too, the Deep Wood sanctuaries had one rule, don't talk about the sanctuaries. If their location was known…it changed everything. The Elves had so long maintained their advantage by being able to disappear into the forests and maneuver against invaders, not being pinned down to a single position to protect civilians. If that was no longer the case it meant Orlethrem would require hard point defenses until those people could be evacuated.

It meant Prespang could crush them with numbers, surround them.

Taipan signed denial with her hand, "There is no way what she says can be true."

She closed her eyes, tired, but forcing herself to think. When, a few moments later, they reopened Ulric saw fear in them.

"Unless. Unless they had this knowledge from the Artifact they used to penetrate Orlethrem's wards before they attacked Irielhos. They had the information all this time…they simply were waiting to tie down our forces to launch the attack." She whispered.

"Ulric, we face crisis. Lumyt'seit must be warned, all of the Orlethrem must be warned." She told him, her voice catching.

He felt his hand scrubbing over his face, the grit of beard against his palm doing nothing to bring reality to this nightmare scenario. Focus Einar, he ordered himself.

There was only one option now, really.

"Then it has to be you Taipan. You have to go, you have to take news as fast as you can to Iriel. The Crown has to know what we know and you're the only one who can do it fast enough to make a difference. And the only way you'll make it in time is if you go alone." He told her, refusing to acknowledge the denial in her gaze.

Ulric smiled against his emotions hoping to placate her somewhat, her remembered threats when he'd suggested leaving her behind in Irielhos fresh in his mind. It didn't help.

She sat up and snarled a curse against the pain of her cuts.

"We go together. We have come this way already, we can return along our blazed trail even faster than we arrived." His partner said, sounding optimistic even to him.

He shook his head against that.

"No way, rejected." He told her.

She knew better, she just didn't want to admit it. So, he had to make sure she knew he knew it too.

"Look, I'm slowing you down out there." Ulric admitted.

"By yourself, you crossed Orlethrem to find Brighteyes inside of ten days. You're the only one who can do that Taipan. Just you. I'd drag every monster within a league trying to move that fast and I'd still not be able to match your pace." He said, hating every word of the reality.

He was, at the end of the day, a human. She was, at the end of the day, Aesir-Iriel'en, and their paragon at that. Taipan could carry the message and make it in time, he knew it. If not, the Orlethrem would move their armies to the borders to begin their netting of Prespang's diversion, and word would reach the leaders of the Elves too late to position them to stop the massacre of the people who thought themselves hidden and safe.

Iriel wouldn't survive the loss of all of its craftsmen, its grove tenders, its children and innocents, they would be shattered as a people.

"It's do or die, Taipan. Either you do, or your kin die. I cannot go with you in this. The forests are your place, its paths are your highways. My place is to go to Prosper and put lightning down the throats of the ones who decided that genocide was acceptable." He put the nail in the coffin of her resistance.

She looked away from him then, unwilling to let him see her uncertainty. She liked to appear strong all the time did his Taipan.

"Can the Clans of the Legranel convey word to the rest of the Orlethrem? All seven tribes need to know, all of its people must flee to safe haven." the Sauri mage inquired of the attending Legranel guards.

One of them snapped free of his shock and took off running like all the hounds of every hell were on his heels. It would appear that they would find out sooner rather than later.

Taipan freed herself gently of her Prenya blanket and stood over Ulric, looming threateningly.

"You will not die without me, Glade Chief. Husband." She commanded.

Ulric threw up a salute, "Aye, Aye, Capitan! This one hears and obeys. This one will not die until given permission!" He retorted, taking solace from her reluctant grin.

He'd plotted, planned, and cracked his brain for months at how to get rid of her. Granted, that was mostly before she'd started treating him like a person. But still. Now, they were to be separated and this frustrating, aggravating, alien, and, somehow endearing Elf was going to be missed. Such is life.

Her hand gently scrubbed through his whitened hair before taking hold of it and kissing him thoroughly.

"I will put my kit in order and be gone immediately. You will follow the route I gave you. Repeat it to me so that I know you were listening and not dreaming of these fairy ‘atoms’ of yours." His Shadow demanded.

Ulric complied, listing cities, estimated distances with their associated travel time estimates, and the ultimate destination of Prosper, citadel island of the Merchant Lords guarding the mouth of the Zelas where it poured into the Vatyn sea. Taipan nodded her satisfaction when he completed his marching orders.

"Good." She stated, hesitating.

Her gaze took in the surrounding clearing, the remaining plains Elf guards, the Sauri mage, and the general disheveled state underscoring the failed assassination and revelation following.

"I think that I will kill Lord Morion with mine own hands, for his part in this." She said, like telling him there was going to be a late frost.

"But later. First, I am going to embarrass these fine people by humping you loudly. Then I am going to do as I said and return to Iriel by the shortest path. I will find you with the [Hunter's Mark] Ulric, as soon as I am able." Declared his Wife aloud.

Glances were traded amongst the guards, who made an unspoken communal decision to haul the psycho murder catgirl away and leave the clearing. Werona didn't bother to hide a bemused observation that Elves were a remarkably open culture and that she had robes to clean. Ulric tried not to wince when she then muttered about needing a fresh tooth brush when this day was over. He watched the imposing, scholarly and gentle natured mage, check on Prenya and depart.

Taipan unceremoniously tossed a bedroll down, ignoring her wounds before stripping naked in the clearing, as if passersby wouldn't see her as she'd been born. She nonchalantly climbed into the bedroll and indicated that he should join her or watch her make pleasure with herself. Given those options, he felt that he had no choice but to shrug, strip down, and ravage this Elf one more time properly.

Thanks to the recent thrashing it hurt. For the both of them. They didn't care.

When they had finished, they neither one spoke while she dressed and assembled her gear. Neither wanted to say words that might indicate that something might happen that couldn't unhappen. Ulric was shitty at goodbyes in general. Instead, they shared one last standing embrace and Taipan disappeared into the thinning crowd of her cousins as she left.

Warm winds blew on him as he stood there, looking at the image of her pack shouldered form in his mind's eye.

He was alone again. It was the first time he ever remembered being sad about it. The Twins fell below the horizon before he managed to find the motivation to put himself in his own bedroll. Stars wheeled overhead, strange constellations moving as he stared at them.

It always came down to some few people making things worse for everybody else. Most people just wanted to live their lives, taste happiness, and raise their kids in modest comfort. And then came along those few fuckers that couldn't leave well enough alone. Humans being short sighted assholes wasn't exactly news to him but he couldn't help being a little disappointed in them again. There were other races that had their own shares of problems, but those people weren't familiar to him as his own.

Before he found sleep his last conscious thought was deciding that if Varda's humans weren't going to learn on their own to stop being assholes then he, Ulric Einar the Twice Borne, was going to show them war, Earth style. And may the gods have mercy on their souls.