Typo Alley~O Part One

I crouch behind a set of fallen trees RP created to hide me. I hope these things don't just disappear in the blink of an eye. It would be something RP would do, just to spite me. Cros is the only Typo visible. The rest of us are hiding, though I have my bow out, just in case. In the event that I'm actually discovered I'll be toast, but I'm not just going to fall into enemy hands without a fight.

I anxiously peek through a hole in the logs and watch as Cros creates a spiral of swirling air and rips a hole in ranks of the oncoming attackers. Wow. I would love to have powers like that. It's really too bad only a few people can use magic.

Cros continues his attacks by lifting up a wall of air, so to speak. A couple dozen soldiers rise to a height of thirty feet and then drop down in the midst of their comrades. The army pauses for a moment, but sets out. I wish I could do something to help, but in a situation like this, there is little to do.

By the look of it, Cros is becoming desperate. As a last resort, he creates a strong wind which causes sand to blow straight into the faces of the oncoming soldiers. I curl into a ball just before the storm hits. The sand blows consistently for fifteen or twenty seconds and then abates. When I look up, the first ranks have been stopped, but those toward the back are fine.

The shock value is the most important part. The ranks of Sebler's soldiers look like they just stumbled upon a fort full of dead bodies, not like they're ready to kill a small band of trouble makers. However, they part their ranks for a line of archers who unleash a hailstorm of arrows at Cros. He easily deals with them, but another storm of them has already started arcing through the sky. I realize they're just trying to wear Cros out and make him angry. But why?

Cros knocks several archers over and damages their equipment in a spare moment he has, but more archers moved in to fill the gaps. Soon, a group of soldiers with shields locked together advances. Cros is too busy dealing with the archers to worry about them. I look on anxiously. Should I fire on them when they get closer? No. That may be what they are hoping for.

Thirty seconds later the lone squad of soldiers is still approaching. I now have an arrow aimed at the man off to the left. He appears to be their leader. As I'm about to open fire, a solid wall of ominous wall of black appears. A flight of arrows come through and helplessly drop onto the ground, each at least ten paces away from Cros. For another minute, nothing happens until a hand reaches through the curtain of sorts and moments later the same squad of soldiers approaches through the curtain. Cros is ready for them. Evidently he has conjured up a gas or something that inhibits their breathing because moments later the soldiers fall on the ground, choking.

How long can RP and Cros keep this up? They won't be able to to fend of an entire army by themselves. A few seconds later, the black wall disappears revealing an army of startled soldiers. Their faces are white with fear.

"Beware," Borin's voice booms with the aid of Cros's air manipulation powers. "If any of you step past through the Void again you will perish in the same fashion as your friends did. The soldiers stand there like a heard of sheep facing a mouse that just ate one of their friends, but they soon retreat under the lead of their officers.

"They'll stop at the top of the hill or just beyond," Cros said, turning toward my and the other now visible Typos. "They're in a bad spot. I almost feel bad for them. They lie between their powerful master and uncertain death at our hands. It will be interesting to see which fat they will choose."

"It was calculated, old friend," Borin says. If it weren't for our little Dwarvish friend here, you would have been exhausted and unable to help us. Let's face it. You're old. And even if you were young, you would never be able to withstand an entire army on your own. We can't keep pushing you out there in front and hanging back ourselves."

Cros sighs and angrily, clears a hole the size of a man in the earth, and collapses into it. Wold and I share worried looks.

"This isn't good," Aiey says. "He's never used magic that carelessly before. I'm worried about him. He overexerted himself today."

"And did you catch the edge in his voice?" Borin asks. "I suppose it's for the best that he collapsed like that. It means he might be over the power craze by the time he wakes."

"I still don't like it," Aiey says. "We're going to have to step up and do our part, even if it kills us."

"What do you have in mind?" I ask.

"I'm really not sure," Aiey admits. "It may be too late to make a workable plan. I was foolish to not foresee an event like this taking place. I guess I was just hoping I could wait until we finally met Chaise face to face to figure out what to do."

A tense silence sinks in. I'm completely useless in a mission like this. I can't even come up with a freaking idea! And against a large army, a dragon, or a magician who can shoot out fire, I'm pretty useless. What good is one typical bow and an elf?

"I wish there was more I could do to help in a situation like this," RP says. "I've done my best so far with the illusions, but I I'm afraid it won't help much, in the end. And I rely on the help of Cros, which isn't realistic if he is supposed to be off fighting Chaise."

"It's fine," Aiey says. "You've helped us a great deal already. I'm afraid there is little more you can do."

"Is there a way we could solve this dilemma in a simpler fashion?" Wold wonders. "From what I've gleaned, Frans Sebler is at the crux of this power struggle. In other words, if we can persuade him that what he is doing is wrong, we won't need to have this fight. Chaise might still go on occasional raids, and the army he built up might try taking over some territory, but neither of those threats are as bad as what Sebler is planning right now."

"Well," Aiey replies, "What you said is true, but convincing him to come back now is probably pretty foolhardy. If he was ever going to turn back it would have had to have been long ago. Evidently, he's been pursuing this course for the past few decades, if not a century. I'm surprised no one picked up on him long before, but it's good we did. He's been left to pursue his plans unchecked for long enough."

"What I'm most concerned about at the moment is getting some food," RP says. "Think we could try fishing?"

"No," I reply. "All our fishing gear was burned up on the Vessel."

"I'm afraid any animals that were in the forest were scared off my that army traipsing around,"

"I can try hunting some game with my bow and hope something comes my way," I offer. "That should sustain us for a little while."

"I think that's all we can do with Cros down," Aiey says.

I take out my bow and make sure I have several good arrows in my quiver. It's too bad I lost one of my arrows to Chaise. At least it wasn't my best. I stride out into the forest looking for enemy soldiers. If I'm ambushed things won't go down well for me or my friends.

The amount of lush vegetation on this island amazes me. This is the warmest, greenest place I've encountered in my travels. While the vegetation is good cover for me, it also means there are a myriad of places where someone could be waiting to jump out at me. I clench the dagger at my side. In a hand-to-hand fight this thing will be quite useful.

I camp out in a good spot. I'm in a tree where I am cloaked by underbrush and vines about five or ten feet above the ground. It gives me a good spot to hide because it will make me above the range most people and animals look at, though my scent may still give me away. Even an island like this with so many trees is still fairly windy. My best chance is to catch something coming from the outside of the island because the wind is primarily blowing from the edge of the island inland.

I wait for a while in my perch, but nothing comes by aside from smaller animals like birds. I tried hitting a monkey, but the arrow was errant and flew off into to jungle, lost forever. I'm not even sure if there are any animals large enough to shoot here, and I'm too afraid to grab some of the berries because I know that they might be poisonous.

"Any luck?" Wold asks.

"Don't startle me like that, Wold. I could have fallen out of the tree and broken something."

"Sorry."

"It seems like a common occurrence recently. Elves like me are supposed to have good hearing, but evidently it doesn't mean we can hear people sneaking up behind us."

"I don't think you should fault your ears, Racen. Wolves are just naturally quieter than most animals and people. It helps us when we are stalking prey."

"When you're what?"

"Never mind. I'm actually here to replace you. I can smell out prey better than you, which will give my an advantage. You've been out here long enough. Maybe I'll have better luck."

"I hope so, assuming you have something to hunt. I'm not even sure if there are any good, large animals around here. The climate is so much different."

"I'm sure I'll find something." Wold smiles reassuringly.

"Wait. Wold, be careful. In dense jungle like this it's easy to get lost and . . . there could be enemy soldier scouting or waiting to ambush someone like you."

"I know. I guess I'll confess I was a little worried about you myself. That's why I came to replace you. I can smell if there are any men near."

"Aw. Thanks," I say, patting her. "You're a good friend. Stay safe."

Reluctantly I turn back and retrace my path through the jungle. The breeze has died down a bit leaving the heat quite oppressive. The humidity in the air is incredible, much worse than any so far. Weather like this almost makes me wish for it to be cold, but cold is even worse. The one thing that is nice about it is that you can bundle up and cope with it to an extent.

The trip back seems to go faster than the trip into the jungle, which is partly because I am not dreading it as much. It seems like this is the first time I've been able to relax since we arrived on the island. I miss that feeling.