blade emerging bright and unstained by the black blood that flowed from the wound it had inflicted. Carefully, Elerian slipped Rasor beneath the iron collar the Goblin wore around his neck. When he cut through the dark iron with a sudden flick of his wrist, the argentum inlaid in Rasor’s blade flared white, and Elerian felt a sudden drain on his power. He struck again and the collar fell to the ground in two pieces, its power broken.
“Only luck saved me in this encounter,” thought Elerian somberly to himself as he straightened up and examined the poisoned stained slash on his leather tunic. The leather was cut completely through. Only the thickness of the linen shirt he wore beneath it had separated his flesh from the Uruc’s poisoned blade. As he carefully cleaned the venom from his tunic with a handful of leaves, his thoughts turned to the two lupins which were still somewhere ahead of him. By now, they might have already discovered the presence of the Dwarves on the hidden road.
“They must be dealt with before they alert their masters to the presence of Ascilius’s company,” thought Elerian to himself, “but I cannot do it in the shape that I am wearing now.”
After retrieving Acer from where it had fallen, he hid both his knives in a clump of ferns. He then took the time to throw the bodies of the three Goblins he had slain into a deep ravine, covering them with leaves to conceal them. Elerian buried the collar in with them, using a stick to pick it up, for he did not want to handle it in any way. Casting a shape-changing spell, he then transformed himself into the familiar form of a large gray panther. His powers of scent in this body were not as acute as a lupin's, but he was still able to pick up the unpleasant odor of the shape changers where their scent lay thickly on the ground ahead of him. Moving on padded feet, he followed the two lupins higher into the hills. When he was close to the Dwarf road, Elerian bunched his powerful, supple muscles and leaped high onto the trunk of a mighty oak. Digging into the fissured bark with his powerful claws, he drew himself up into the tree's thick branches until he was high above the forest floor with a network of thick branches spread out before him. Padding silently over the rough bark of the limbs, he made his surefooted way from tree to tree, bridging any gaps with long, graceful leaps.
Elerian found the lupins a short distance from the road and the sleeping Dwarves. As he crept over the pair on a wide branch, he smelled the fresh scent of blood in the air. Looking over the edge of the limb, he saw that, nearly twenty feet below him, the two lupins were crouched over a Dwarf, who lay unmoving on the ground between them with his throat torn out. The shape changers were quietly lapping up his still flowing blood with their long red tongues, their eyes glowing like coals in the dark.
Baring his teeth in anger, Elerian stepped off the branch. After plummeting silently through the air, he landed squarely astride one of the lupins. A quick bite behind the head, a shake of his own head and powerful neck, and the Goblin was dead. As Elerian released the foul, fur-covered skin of the lupin, the creature’s companion lunged forward, seizing him by the throat with its powerful jaws. He tried to shake it off, but the lupin clung stubbornly to his neck, its powerful jaws grinding closer and closer to the great veins in his neck. Desperately, Elerian tried to strike at the shape changer with his front paws, but the crafty creature, whose strength matched his own, pulled him off balance whenever one of his feet left the ground. Unable to breath, Elerian felt himself weakening. He tried to form a spell, but a red haze now filled his mind and the words refused to come to him.
“My luck has finally run out,” was his last coherent thought.
Sensing that his enemy was weakening, the lupin squeezed its jaws tighter, savoring the blood now flowing into its jaws from the
“Only luck saved me in this encounter,” thought Elerian somberly to himself as he straightened up and examined the poisoned stained slash on his leather tunic. The leather was cut completely through. Only the thickness of the linen shirt he wore beneath it had separated his flesh from the Uruc’s poisoned blade. As he carefully cleaned the venom from his tunic with a handful of leaves, his thoughts turned to the two lupins which were still somewhere ahead of him. By now, they might have already discovered the presence of the Dwarves on the hidden road.
“They must be dealt with before they alert their masters to the presence of Ascilius’s company,” thought Elerian to himself, “but I cannot do it in the shape that I am wearing now.”
After retrieving Acer from where it had fallen, he hid both his knives in a clump of ferns. He then took the time to throw the bodies of the three Goblins he had slain into a deep ravine, covering them with leaves to conceal them. Elerian buried the collar in with them, using a stick to pick it up, for he did not want to handle it in any way. Casting a shape-changing spell, he then transformed himself into the familiar form of a large gray panther. His powers of scent in this body were not as acute as a lupin's, but he was still able to pick up the unpleasant odor of the shape changers where their scent lay thickly on the ground ahead of him. Moving on padded feet, he followed the two lupins higher into the hills. When he was close to the Dwarf road, Elerian bunched his powerful, supple muscles and leaped high onto the trunk of a mighty oak. Digging into the fissured bark with his powerful claws, he drew himself up into the tree's thick branches until he was high above the forest floor with a network of thick branches spread out before him. Padding silently over the rough bark of the limbs, he made his surefooted way from tree to tree, bridging any gaps with long, graceful leaps.
Elerian found the lupins a short distance from the road and the sleeping Dwarves. As he crept over the pair on a wide branch, he smelled the fresh scent of blood in the air. Looking over the edge of the limb, he saw that, nearly twenty feet below him, the two lupins were crouched over a Dwarf, who lay unmoving on the ground between them with his throat torn out. The shape changers were quietly lapping up his still flowing blood with their long red tongues, their eyes glowing like coals in the dark.
Baring his teeth in anger, Elerian stepped off the branch. After plummeting silently through the air, he landed squarely astride one of the lupins. A quick bite behind the head, a shake of his own head and powerful neck, and the Goblin was dead. As Elerian released the foul, fur-covered skin of the lupin, the creature’s companion lunged forward, seizing him by the throat with its powerful jaws. He tried to shake it off, but the lupin clung stubbornly to his neck, its powerful jaws grinding closer and closer to the great veins in his neck. Desperately, Elerian tried to strike at the shape changer with his front paws, but the crafty creature, whose strength matched his own, pulled him off balance whenever one of his feet left the ground. Unable to breath, Elerian felt himself weakening. He tried to form a spell, but a red haze now filled his mind and the words refused to come to him.
“My luck has finally run out,” was his last coherent thought.
Sensing that his enemy was weakening, the lupin squeezed its jaws tighter, savoring the blood now flowing into its jaws from the
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