Innocent Creatures of Purity and Grace (Josiah/NPC

[Hermia]

"You're not looking well."

The rings around his eyes were so very dark. So very obvious, even under mist-choked sun and flickering indigo light. Skin so pale it almost seemed bloodless. Loud sniffling to accompany the man's runny nose, which should have easily attracted any predator from a good mile away if the occasional deafening sneeze hadn't terrified it into seeking something less infectious.

"I didn't have many options." Hermia kept her eyes on the human, and not the dragon-spirit shimmering in and out in the mist. "If I'd known of a unicorn herd that lived somewhere more conducive, I'd happily adjourn this meeting right now. But they'll be going out to graze soon, and then they'll be all over the pasture, and we'd be lucky to run into one or two in an hour once they've all spread out. It's a very big pasture, you know." She winced at the next sneeze.

"Here..." The three-foot column of twisting fire descended, curving forward as it toppled in slow motion, yawning wide like a delta. As the indigo fire streamed from her fingertips to wreath the other mage, Hermia's other hand came up. "Incolumis."

Fire settled on skin and did not burn.

"That's the best I can do, for the moment." The fox reached into her skirt pocket to retrieve her compass. "And when this is over, I'll use some of those unicorn hairs to make a potion for you." She returned it to her pocket and began walking west. "The ones from my share."

[Josiah Gray]

Josiah was not a morning person. The sun was only a few degrees high in the sky. It was time for him to be asleep, in a comfy bug-proof bed, with a water-proof roof above his head, snuggled deep in a thick wind-proof blanket, with a watchful dragon curled up at his feet.

It was not the time to be woken up by said dragon and ushered out the door for a morning frolic with a dozen beasts of the "weighs a ton and can gore you with a magical horn" variety. His body angrily told him he was supposed to be sleeping for another hour or two, and went on strike.

"You're not looking well," the person responsible for his present unpleasantness pointed out.

He covered a shotgun-blast sneeze with his left sleeve, the noise of which still managed to surprise another set of tiny woodland creatures.

"Sorry," he apologize automatically, sniffling afterward as he continued to trudge along. The guardian spirit on point glanced back to regard him visually, if only to ascertain he was still right behind and not in danger of any surprise goblin attacks or sneaky fey enchantments.

"I didn't have many options," she said as if she was the one saying 'sorry.' "If I'd known of a unicorn herd that lived somewhere more conducive, I'd happily adjourn this meeting right now. But they'll be going out to graze soon, and then they'll be all over the pasture, and we'd be lucky to run into one or two in an hour once they've all spread out. It's a very big pasture, you know."

His lungs - crappy as they were - somehow put out another bird-scattering sneeze.

He wanted his bed back.

"Here..." she said, as she started to aim the blatantly magical fire toward her companion - causing the dragon's senses to narrow almost fully on her.

"Incolumis," was the second enchantment, and brought out a small growl from the beastly spirit - the sort of overprotective warning kind of growl that threatens to do bad things to frozen fingers in retribution.

Thankfully for all parties involved, the dragon noted his master was not dying in fire but was taking a deep breath, comfortably warmed up by the blaze.

"Um … thanks," Jo gave his gratitude softly, rubbing the side of his left arm as the warmth sunk in and reminded him of that very comfortable tavern bed.

The dragon just snorted, and went back to searching for goblins awaiting in ambush.

"That's the best I can do, for the moment," she said.

Josiah gulped once, watching her fiddle with the compass before he inserted that, "It's nice…"

"And when this is over, I'll use some of those unicorn hairs to make a potion for you," she added, changing their direction a bit.

The dragon snorted as their heading was changed without his foreknowledge, and bounded into the lead again to assert his rightful place as ghost shield.

"The ones from my share."

Josiah gave her a small look of confusion, not sure what she was getting at with "a potion."

"I don't really," he sniffled once, "I don't really need a potion for anything. Before, before yesterday, I didn't even, uh, have a plan, for something like this. Unicorn hairs, I mean."

[Presumes she asks about said plan]

"G-gloves," he replied, to a smaller, cautionary growl from the dragon. He knew the spirit didn't like him sharing details - but that had hardly ever stopped him before.

"I can, I can sort of heal, if I make the right symbol for it," he said cordially, with a bit more pride in that small fact. "But, you know… I figure unicorn hairs, wound as string ... augmenting healing magic…"

He let her fill in the blanks on her own, because clearly she was clever. Clever like a fox.

[Hermia]

Furrowed brows and searching eyes were turned on her. "I don't really - I don't really need a potion for anything."

Hermia returned the look askance, a singled quirked eyebrow indicating the human's reddened nose in respectful silence.

"Before, before yesterday, I didn't even, uh, have a plan, for something like this. Unicorn hairs, I mean."

"A... plan? With the - oh. Let's hear it, then? I'll know if it's a good plan."

"G-gloves." The guardian spirit made a noise in its throat like distant thunder. She resolutely ignored it. "Gloves," she repeated. "For channeling magic, like another mage might do with a wand? You'd have to know the right magic for unicorn hairs to help."

"I can - I can sort of heal, if I make the right symbol for it. But, you know… I figure unicorn hairs, wound as string ... augmenting healing magic…"

"That's clever, then." Hermia rocked back on her heels with a satisfied nod. "Thinking long-term. That's very clever. Travelling on your own, I assume you've had to learn to mend your own clothing? You'd do well to stitch healing symbols into your gloves with the hairs. Defensive ones too, while you're at it. Healing on one glove, defense on the other."

"Which is what you're free to do with yours," she said. "Think of the potion as compensation for being exposed to more of this country's dreadful climate. It'll last you a few weeks, at the rate of one sip a day - that's enough to keep microscopic invaders out of your body for a full twenty-four hours. None of - " she could feel the next gale-force sneeze tug at her hair as the sound blasted outward. "- that. Better resistance to injury. More luck, for a variable number of hours which I haven't figured out how to stabilize yet. Think of it as a way to conserve your own magic."

"All of which depends on us getting to the unicorns in time..." she squinted at the sun, gauging its distance above the horizon and the lack of warmth that could reach the ground. "We'll have to hurry, but I think we're on schedule."

[Josiah Gray]

The noise from the spectral dragon made it sound like it wasn't completely opposed to the suggestion.

You could use something to aid your barriers, the defensive-minded familiar commented.

"Yeah…" he said in that characteristically subdued way - aloud, for both to hear.

Your barriers are fast, but they rely too much on your mental fortitude. Like that time with the Yetis.

I was congested that day. I had a headache, Josiah tried to deflect meekly.

The dragon snorted. Your headache let him rip though your shield like tissue paper. Wet tissue paper. That you blew your nose with.

You're sounding like Elijah again Josiah replied, with just a hint of annoyance and a tad more nostalgia.

Yes. Because you're thinking about him a lot, the dragon countered. The mage automatically did a playback of all the times he'd thought of him in the last 24 hours, and was forced to take a deep breath from their weight.

He glanced at the fox fey, and smiled awkwardly. "No sneeze that time."

The dragon rolled his eyes once.

"Thank me later," he growled, as he moved over to a clearing

The almost humanoid draconic figure bent over onto all fours slowly, claws upon the ground. He looked almost strange like that, even with digitigrade legs, but the image didn't last. His extremities blurred for the sudden expansion of his ectoplasmic form, growing twice the size, then again, then even further as he grew to proper Dragon shape.

The beast made a point of glaring at the fox fey just once, and snorting out a small burst of white frost onto the air.

It was a sight the human was mostly (but not fully) immunized to, from seeing it so often before. That was the only reason he was rubbing his temples instead, muffling a whine under his breath.

"Is that really necessary?" he complained.

"Elijah," the beast hit him with the word, and lowered his neck slightly. He was still almost taller than Josiah like that, and so significantly taller than the fox fey.

Josiah stepped closer, then noticed that fact before offering his hand to her.

"Do you need a hand up?" he asked considerately.

[Hermia]

"Hmmph," said the dragon-shaped spirit. Hermia ignored it.

She found the following exchange of glances and expressions much more difficult to ignore. From the corner of her eye, she watched the silent confabulation turn in favor of the spirit, most likely warning Josiah to beware fox-faeries bearing agreements that came with more than adequate compensation on top of being decidedly unbalanced in his favor.

She was almost too busy working herself up to a good sulk to notice the two had stopped making faces at each other.

"No sneeze that time."

"What?"

"Thank me later."

"What?"

The spirit shaped like a dangerously large dragonfolk full of violent intent... got even bigger. Hermia put on an expression cultivated over years of study in dangerous environments, and pretended not to look like she was wondering if spirits were capable of digesting solid food.

She felt the dragon's contemptuous gaze pierce her mask, and diverted her thoughts to a detailed examination of how absolutely revolting foxes tasted. All stringy and furry especially when they had so many inedible and wholly unnutritious tails, and no real meat anywhere on their persons, and they'd be such an awful fuss traversing the entirety of any alimentary canal and they always smelled so strongly of dog; anything that tried to eat her, no matter how successful, was merely setting itself up for the worst case of indigestion in its... metaphysical existence -

Josiah came to her defence. "Is that really necessary?"

Hermia looked down as if she hadn't tried to engage in a staring match with the spirit, and noticed she was gripping her wand very hard and her knuckles were beginning to lose color.

"Elijah." The crime against existence fired back.

She didn't like spirits. She really didn't like spirits. The loss or complete lack of a body without proper eviction from reality gave them such narrow attitudes on life, or death, or whatever state of being they'd been suspended in. Come to think of it, she didn't like dragons either.

Dragons...

Leaving the thought to simmer, she accepted Josiah's hand and took her place on the ectoplasmic dragon's distressingly solid back, safely behind Josiah where it couldn't risk indigestion by casually flicking its head and catching her in its jaws to devour her whole.

"Dirige me. Ohryn." Smoke flowed from her outstretched wand, gathering in the form of a solid black arrow on the grass, pointing northeast. "Just follow the arrow," she explained, before returning to her thoughts as their ride left the ground behind.

Dragons. She'd met dragons before. A professor at Camford had been a dragon. He'd been one of the more capable teachers, keyword been, until he'd discovered religion or philosophy or whatever that gormless selkie from her afternoon Herblore classes had done to the man. Religion or philosophy or both, and introducing him to excessive use of... Hibernian smoke-leaf...

She didn't cackle. Cackling in public was frowned upon. Also, she didn't know how to cackle.

"Almost there," she said. "Land in half a mile, and then we can walk the rest of the way. Unicorns don't like it when dragons swoop at them. The fog should cover us most of the way, but I'd rather not risk it."

Josiah and his paranoid guardian spirit were likely to share an empathic link. Rather, the guardian would feel what its ward felt. It was what made them effective, a lot of the time. The excessive paranoia could easily have been programmed into the spirit's personality, a defense mechanism to protect someone who needed quite a lot of protecting -

- (and she was going to have a word with that brother of his when she inevitably caught up to them again, about leaving innocent virgins alone with the sort of protective knight templar entity who'd ensure they'd spend their entire lives being spiritually attractive to unicorns but she was digressing) -

- but assuming the guardian dragon would feel everything his mage felt, because that was the best way to make them effective, at the cost of making them bad-tempered...

"I say," she spoke up, "There might be another way to help bolster your health. A convenient one, on top of that potion which I'll still make for you. See, we're in Hibernia, and the locals - well, the local Halfling communities. They're decent, honest folk, quite pleasant to work with, and they grow their own sort of tobacco. Hibernian smoke-leaf. Different magical properties, and it only grows on Hibernian soil, and inhaling the smoke in modest amounts relaxes the lungs, heart rate and mind. You could keep yourself busy, looking for a dealer while I brew the potion."

[Josiah Gray]

Her hand felt small in his. His own hands, compared to hers, were probably much less dextrous. He wondered for only a moment, if it was because of her gender or her specie that lent to the grace of her form. Then his hand wrapped around hers, for support, as invisible waves of telekinetic energy gently buoyed them upwards.

He deposited her safely upon the dragon's back first, and let go only to take his own seat in front of her.

You should have sat behind her. Now I can't catch her in my jaws and devour her whole.

No one's devouring anyone, the mage frowned at his dragon counterpart.

If you get stabbed in the back, I reserve the right to say I told you so.

"Dirige me. Ohryn" she then said out loud. A dragon snapped to attention, turning its head around and glaring at her with one eye as if to say "I dare you. I idouble dare you."

But she remained safely outside his stomach as the spell formed a physical component.

"A ... tracking spell?" Josiah gathered, wondering what that last word was supposed to indicate.

"Just follow the arrow," she explained, and the dragon growled softly as he looked in the proper direction of its heading. The massive spectral wings extended up high, and they pressed off into the sky. There was a single blast of wind, pushing out against the trees and the plants beneath them, seeing off their departure from the earth. But that was the only one.

The dragon flew low over the forest, wings outstretched. His tail acted like a rudder, but there was no air resistance rushing past them, to catch at their hair. The dragon wrapped them up in magic, streamlined and protected. It was the same force that kept them aloft, jetting forward in the direction of her choosing.

"Almost there," she said after only a few moments. "Land in half a mile, and then we can walk the rest of the way. Unicorns don't like it when dragons swoop at them. The fog should cover us most of the way, but I'd rather not risk it."

The spirit grumpily acknowledged that she had a point, grunting once - and only once.

"Yeah…" Josiah replied, as he tried to imagine how the unicorns would react to being picked off the ground by spectral dragons.

"Swooping is bad…"

With little further complaint, the dragon began to hover more closely down to the forest. He chose a small opening in the trees, and when he had about dipped into it, his wings pulled inwards. Massive clawed limbs touched down onto the ground more lightly than it should have been possible, like a feather alighting upon the earth at last. He padded a bit further on, until it was too dense for him to fit through any further.

The dragon laid down again, for the pair to disembark.

"I say," she spoke up, "There might be another way to help bolster your health. A convenient one, on top of that potion which I'll still make for you. See, we're in Hibernia, and the locals - well, the local Halfling communities. They're decent, honest folk, quite pleasant to work with, and they grow their own sort of tobacco. Hibernian smoke-leaf. Different magical properties, and it only grows on Hibernian soil, and inhaling the smoke in modest amounts relaxes the lungs, heart rate and mind. You could keep yourself busy, looking for a dealer while I brew the potion."

Memories of certain eccentric professors was compounded by firelight parables.

He didn't need to be linked to know the dragon was glaring at him behind his shoulder.

"Sakuya … warned me about that stuff," Josiah returned. "It's, uh, supposed to relax you a little bit too much."

"Quickly, students. Flap your arms. Dance with the butterflies, and you'll take off from the ground! No! Don't just dance with them. Be them. Be the butterfly."

"Professor, are you high?"

"As a kite, son. As a kite."

Josiah shook the memory, and focused on something more relevant.

"So … who or what is this 'Ohryn' you were tracking?" he asked inquisitively.

[Hermia]

"Sakuya… warned me about that stuff."

Hermia's shoulders sank.

"It's, uh, supposed to relax you a little bit too much."

"Oh." Her ears followed.

She hopped off the phantom dragon's back and let her feet crunch into the grass by his middle, too close for swiping tails or snapping jaws to reach, and pointedly chose not to focus on her crushed dreams of the creature rendered blissfully insouciant.

"This way," she said, taking a few steps after the pointing arrow.

"About Ohryn," she began. Almost at once, she felt the strong urge to roll her eyes. "He's..." she paused to dig through her vocabulary for the most lenient adjective.

Ohryn was a number of things, in her estimate. Most weren't worth repeating, least of all to someone she might need to... engage in... dalliances with him.

"He's harmless." She broke the silence before it could grow long and loud enough to give the dragon second thoughts. "Mostly harmless," she hurried to add. "But especially harmless around virgins. He's a unicorn himself. A unicornfolk, rather - he's naturally gifted with magic, usually travels on two legs and has the vocal cords needed for talking. He likes talking."

He liked talking very much.

"He's the keeper of the herd. That's like a magically appointed shepherd, usually blessed by a Fey lord or some spirit who likes unicorns. He keeps the meadow safe and unpolluted for them to live... uh... and..." she stopped talking to inspect her boot soles for any remnants of hellhound dung. "Scourgify." She put her foot down in the grass and inspected the print it left behind, then looked back the way they had come. When she didn't see a blackened trail of withered, scorched ground, she kept walking. "It'd be his job to drive out all intruders, but he's not quite unfriendly enough to follow that rule to the letter."

Quite the opposite; she thought he was a bit too friendly, but what Lord didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Or gnash her to tiny, stringy, foul-tasting pieces between sharp ectoplasmic reptilian fangs.

"Keepers are appointed for life. There isn't much room for contact with the world outside their herd, so he'll want to talk. He always does, whenever he gets the chance. More so if it's a human virgin; he's mentally linked to his herd and I think he shares their preference in company, if not their standards of hygiene."

[Josiah Gray]

"About Ohryn," she said, and both heads turned as if expecting the cheerful facade of an easy mission to be turned upside down.

"He's..."

Here it comes.

Stop it.

I reserved the right. You heard me.

"He's harmless."

The dragon snorted as if he highly doubted that, but kept moving forward anyway.

"Mostly harmless," she hurried to add. "But especially harmless around virgins. He's a unicorn himself. A unicornfolk, rather - he's naturally gifted with magic, usually travels on two legs and has the vocal cords needed for talking. He likes talking."

"Unicorn … You mean one of the mythic beastfolk," Josiah said aloud, without it actually being a question. "Sakuya told me about them, but I've only seen one before. And she wasn't a unicorn."

"He's the keeper of the herd. That's like a magically appointed shepherd, usually blessed by a Fey lord or some spirit who likes unicorns. He keeps the meadow safe and unpolluted for them to live... uh... and..." her shoes interrupted her. "It'd be his job to drive out all intruders, but he's not quite unfriendly enough to follow that rule to the letter."

The dragon paid more note to the last part, giving her a light glare. The thought of wrestling down a unicornfolk came to his mind, and already he started to run battle scenarios. This 'Ohryn's' horn would be the most problematic part of the grapple, to pinning the man down beneath his weight while Josiah stood around "looking pretty" to unicorns.

The things I do for you… mumbled mentally.

Did you say something?

No. Nothing. Pay attention to her before she charms you with her fey wiles.

"Keepers are appointed for life. There isn't much room for contact with the world outside their herd, so he'll want to talk. He always does, whenever he gets the chance. More so if it's a human virgin; he's mentally linked to his herd and I think he shares their preference in company, if not their standards of hygiene."

Josiah tripped over a root - or a blade of grass. A dragon guardian was quick to steady him, unnecessary though the thought was.

"Shares their what?" the mage struggled to ask. "Doesn't their what?"

"A human what?" the dragon interjected, pretending to share Josiah's surprise.

The mage stared at him with another rush of heat on his face.

"I wanted to be involved."

[Hermia]

Note to self. Josiah was changing color again, a warning sign Hermia was growing to recognize and dread. Research "tact". Practice regular application. Recalculate the value of "silence".

"Well..." Her foot scuffed and scraped at the grass. "Ohryn's a male unicorn. Of the variety that walks on two feet and has vocal cords, but... in many other respects... is still a male unicorn, and - and, you see, like other male unicorns..."

Was it too late to search for a more confident human male virgin?

The thought of more unicorn tail hairs than most poachers would ever lay their hands on spurred her forward.

"He'll take an interest in you," she spoke in a rush. "An... amorous kind." The explanation rushed out even faster. "It stems from your having never returned or consummated such an interest before, and I understand you might not appreciate attention of that nature from that source, but he won't be any trouble as long as you're able to say no -"

"Who's sayin' no ter wot now, then?" A distinctly male voice cut in, right behind her, opposite to the direction her indicator spell pointed.

Hermia froze. Her expression twisted into a scowl a moment later, and she jabbed a finger in the direction of her arrow. "Pungo!"

A small bolt of white light shot into the mist. The male voice rang out again, this time in a yelp. "Oi!"

"And he's evidently learned to perform scrying magic," Hermia said. "Josiah, that was Ohryn -" out of the clearing mist, she saw a familiar silhouette limping in their direction.

Bare hooves instead of feet. Thick, strong legs, built to run with ease or kick with deadly force. A red kilt, woven with white patterns, covered the emerging figure's waist and knees. His upper body was proudly bare to show off layer upon layer of muscle, visible through groomed white fur, from the thick chest and lean stomach to his hefty biceps and forearms.

The sharp horn that rose from his forehead, glowing with its own faint light as it parted his solid black mane, sat tall and dignified above a childishly aggrieved expression. "Lay off the witchcraft, lass! There was no need fer tha'!" He protested, one hand rubbing at his left thigh through the kilt.

"Let me try that again," Hermia muttered. At a louder volume, she said, "Josiah, this is Ohryn. He's harmless. Mostly harmless. Ohryn, this -"

"Who's this?" The unicornfolk swept right past as if he hadn't heard, stopping to examine Josiah when he was a foot away. The human's height came up to his shoulder.

I want to go home and rethink my life.

[Josiah Gray]

"Well…" Both pairs of eyes zeroed in on her foot, and its attempt at crushing the grass beneath - crushing it like Josiah's confidence. "Ohryn's a male unicorn. Of the variety that walks on two feet and has vocal cords, but... in many other respects... is still a male unicorn, and - and, you see, like other male unicorns..."

The male dragon gave a soft, gutaral noise that Josiah was intimately familiar with, even if he didn't understand the reasoning for it this time.

"He'll take an interest in you," she spoke in a rush. "An... amorous kind."

And then he did, and Josiah froze up faster then the pack of hellhounds caught in an underground lake (a unit of time Lord could scientifically confirm and everything). Thus frozen, the young man's blood system wasn't sure whether it should speed up, slow down, heat up or mimic a temperature more appropriate to his lack of motion. If it was trying to do all of them, then that might explain the myriad of sensations his brain was trying to interpret.

He only managed to half listen to the further explanation that followed, which do nothing to assuage rampant mental imagery. Words clearly lacking, the guardian spirit made a game of pointing at the feminine fox behind her back, violent gestures suggesting a KO and quick get-away. Motions ceased a split second before she turned around.

"Who's sayin' no ter wot now, then?" A distinctly male voice cut in, causing the draconic figure to shift back onto high alert. He glared daggers at the source of the voice, and upon encountering nothing but a now rightly terrified elm tree, whirled protectively around behind his mage in an instant.

One quick spell later brought the perpetrator to light.

"And he's evidently learned to perform scrying magic," Hermia said. "Josiah, that was Ohryn -"

Mage and dragon zeroed in on the limping figure, taking his form into proper account.

Bare hooves instead of feet. Thick, strong legs, built to run with ease or kick with deadly force. A red kilt, woven with white patterns, covered the emerging figure's waist and knees. His upper body was proudly bare to show off layer upon layer of muscle, visible through groomed white fur, from the thick chest and lean stomach to his hefty biceps and forearms.

The sharp horn that rose from his forehead, glowing with its own faint light as it parted his solid black mane, sat tall and dignified above a childishly aggrieved expression.

Calculations were quickly made on the dangers of pointy objects to easily bruised skin, and relayed to the dragon's ward - or would have been, if Josiah could manage to pry his head away from all the layers Ohyrn was and wasn't wearing.

Oh God, not again.

Lord. Lord. My brain. My brain, Lord.

"Lay off the witchcraft, lass! There was no need fer tha'!" the mystic equine rubbed at his thigh, dragging Josiah's gaze down lower for a split second. The dragon helpfully tugged his gaze back up to appropriate levels with a snap of his fingers.

Focus, Jo. Fooocuussss.

"Let me try that again," Hermia muttered. At a louder volume, she said, "Josiah, this is Ohryn. He's harmless. Mostly harmless. Ohryn, this -"

"Who's this?" the interloper approached rapidly, despite a dragon's warning noises. Near success at getting his brain under control became a complete and total failure as the metaphorical rug was ripped, torn, shredded and trashed right beneath Jo's feet. And he couldn't breathe either.

God, I bet the other guardian spirits don't have to put up with this.

Mrewp.

The spectral shadow solidified and inserted himself between unicorn and human, staring down the white-furred creature eye to eye.

He snorted once, an icy puff aimed at Ohyrn's bare chest.

"I don't like the cut of your jib," the spirit said angrily, fists at his sides prepared to intercept any perceived threats on his still very stunned ward.

[Hermia]

The threat-devouring guardian spirit interposed itself between unicorn and virgin, every motion suggesting bloody violence in the near future. As Ohryn folded his arms and narrowed his eyes, Hermia leveled her wand at the hulking beastfolk, prepared to quell the disaster in the making.

The unicorn's nostrils twitched. He snorted a deeper breath in. His eyes widened.

His lips moved, barely a whisper. "A virgin?"

He turned to stare through the dragon at his petrified ward. "Two virgins?"

He swiveled from the two and rounded on Hermia before she had time to feel relieved. "Two virgins, lass? Two of 'em?"

Why me? Why me?

"Oi've no idea wot ter say," the unicorn said, his voice trembling with awe. "Is this - are they... a present?"

Words still caught in her throat, Hermia let her gaze dart back and forth between the host and the other two guests. The deathly pallor on human features, partially visible through the translucent and murderous glare, inspired her to safety.

"They're - visitors," she said. "They're just visiting. They've never seen a unicorn - " which was entirely true, but as close to a lie as she dared, "- and they..."

Ohryn chuckled. "Oi'd wager they never 'ave, 'specially not the younger lad hoidin' away there."

"Josiah," the fox-fey added. "His name's Josiah."

"Never thought we'd luk so gran' as this, did ya?" Craggy fists clenched into compact boulders, and both arms lifted, bending at the elbow. Huge biceps became huger. He inhaled, making his broad chest swell with air and pride. "Well, ye've seen a unicorn now." Perfect teeth gleamed as he bared in a grin. "Will the two of ya be goin', or were ya plannin' ta stay? Oi'd be happy ta show ya... more -"

"No." Hermia spluttered. "Yes. No. I mean - Josiah?"

In the short time that had lapsed, previously chalk-white skin had gained a healthy, ruddy shade that could turn easily prize tomatoes green with envy.

She shot Ohryn a nasty look. "Just give him a moment."

[Josiah Gray]

"Never thought we'd luk so gran' as this, did ya?"

The young mage responded by looking - looking long, and hard.

Fists clenched.

Arms lifted.

Elbows bent.

Biceps flexed.

Pecs swelled.

"Well, ye've seen a unicorn now."

Teeth gleamed.

Mouth grinned.

"Will the two of ya be goin', or were ya plannin' ta stay? Oi'd be happy ta show ya… more -"

"No." Hermia spluttered. "Yes. No. I mean - Josiah?"

Josiah fainted.

[Josiah Gray]

The draconic figure sensed him going down before his knees had given, and turned around fast to fulfill guardian instincts. Solid arms grabbed him around the back and sides, strong and protective. He carefully guided Josiah into laying on the ground, using the thick tail as a pillow for his ward's head.

Bared fangs were shot at beastfolk and fey alike, an ice dragon's frigid glare promising quick retribution for any permanent damage.

He snorted another breath of frost.

"Jerks."

[Hermia]

Josiah dropped like a puppet cut from its strings.

"Oi?" Ohryn leaned in closer, his expression straddling bemused and flattered. "Wus it somethin' oi sed?"

Hermia forcefully applied the obverse sector of her right metacarpus to the anterior portion of her skull and kept it in place to avert her vision.

"Jerks," Lord snorted.

And to think she'd started off laboring under the delusion that this would be a good day. Was it too late to go back to bed?

Ohryn frowned again. "Wot's a jerk?"

"You're a jerk." Without removing her right palm from her face, Hermia snapped up her other hand in the general direction of the unicorn's significant bulk. "Pungo!"

The stinging bolt struck true, an inch below and to the right of the magnificent white tail, to the tune of another undignified yelp.

I hate unicorns. I hate hellhounds. I hate dragons. I hate guardians. I hate virgins. I hate my life.

"We shouldn't... waste time..." she said when she was sure she wasn't going to break out in hysterics. "Lord, I'm going to... wake him up..." She felt a nudge to her elbow. "Not now - " Another nudge, more insistent, with a touch of magic that bubbled a warm path up to her heart.

Suddenly, she didn't feel so frustrated. "I appreciate the gesture but really, this isn't the... time...?" She dared to lower her right hand. The unicorn foal whinnied at her and nudged her with its short, blunt horn a third time.

She recognized the sensation of empathic magic as it swelled up again, and denied it with a push of her own will. "No."

The little colt wagged its head and snorted as if to say Well, I tried, and trotted past her toward the human virgin, completely unafraid of the dragon standing over him.

Hermia's vulpine ears twitched, recognizing the sound of distant hoofbeats becoming less distant. She turned. Two more unicorns, these fully grown and easily dwarfing her own figure, were closing in at a lively trot.

Taking an... interest.

Her own complexion paled to near-Josiah levels.

"Ohryn," her voice shook slightly. "Stand over there. Away. Give him room to breathe. Further. Move back a bit more. Three more feet. Further."

"This good enough, lass?" The unicorn called from ten feet away.

"It'll do." Her wand traced a circle, spiralled in, and centered on the unconscious human virgin. The unicorn colt stepped into her line of sight, innocent eyes drawing within poking distance of the wand. It whinnied again and tilted its head in question.

The hoofbeats got closer. The drumming rhythm spread out as more clopping feet took up the call.

She scowled at it and spoke through gritted teeth. "Get. Out. Of. The. Way."

It complied, with another snort like a shrug, stepping aside for her wand to point at Josiah again.

"Suscito." The red light of the revival spell glowed around the wand, concentrating at the tip, then arced out like lightning and jumped across to Josiah's body.

[Josiah Gray]

A dragon's clawed limb wreathed itself in an aura of blue magic, and batted away the would-be wake-up spell - if that was even what it was. The paranoid spirit was suspicious enough to doubt event that. A single, magic imbued claw then pointed itself threateningly in the fox's direction.

"No. No magic," the draconic figure growled out the way things were going to go. "You don't touch him. You don't cast at him. You put the wand down and you let him -"

The unicorn foal nuzzled his outstretched hand from the side, interrupting the dragon's tirade and pulling glaring eyes in the young creature's direction instead.

"Stop that," he demanded, trying to shoo the foal away with the hand instead. The young unicorn nickered as if it was a game, and more intently tried to play with the spirit's disapproving hand.

The older group of unicorns used the distraction to move in, approaching the sleeping - sickly - innocent from the other side. The dragon turned in on them when they were only a few feet shy, putting his hands down over Josiah's body and baring his fangs upon the latest interlopers.

Older unicorns seemed unimpressed somehow, looking to each other and communicating in some kind of way their own. Lord took the opportunity to glare in Hermia's direction, and sent her a very biting telepathic message of Get on with it.

[Hermia]

Blue light intercepted red and swatted the reviving energy clear of its target with infuriatingly casual ease."No. No magic."

Hermia fumed and desperately wished she could stomp her foot and scream undignifying expletives. "I was only -"

"You don't touch him. You don't cast at him. You put the wand down and you let him -" the unicorn foal, finally deciding to make itself useful, interrupted the dragon with a friendly nudge.

Frustration and glee fought to a deadlock, neither achieving control of Hermia's facial muscles. The fox-faerie decided it was for the best, as it kept her from grinning or cackling or doing anything which would have reduced her to a dragon spirit's late breakfast in a matter of seconds.

Instead, she stayed silent and passive and took in the beautiful sight of a guardian spirit with attitude problems being harrassed by a small group of unicorns.

This image is going to keep me warm when I'm flying through the choppiest snowstorm Hiems has to throw at me -

Get on with it.

She squeaked and whipped her gaze up to meet Lord's, his glare identifying him as the source of the psychic message.

"Get on with what?" she yelled out loud.

The intensified glare looked like I'm eat you, my pretty, and your little lizard too, but the thoughts came across sounding more like The *Plucking*.

"Right." She gritted her teeth and turned to where Ohryn stood ten feet away, admiring the disaster unfolding before his eyes. "Ohryn, you know why I'm here."

"Aye, lass." The beastfolk called back. "An' Oi trust ya know the rules."

"Don't spill blood," Hermia recited. "Not mine. Not theirs. Don't harm. Don't touch the horns." The final word was a whisper, directing magic onto herself. "Absconda me."

She faded in a moment. Her shadow turned watery, then translucent, then it was gone too.

A muttered "Accio," brought the jar and tweezers to her hands.

She narrowly sidestepped the fourth and fifth incoming unicorns. She circled the gathering herd, seeking the bushiest tail first, while they all stopped around Lord, some bowing low, their glowing horns prodding at his form with the most diplomatic persistence.

There.

Tiny dents silently marked her tread through the tall grass. And stopped.

The unicorn foal was staring at her. Not through her; not past her; directly at her.

One twinkling eye closed and opened again. It turned away.

She continued creeping forward.

The targeted tail gave an unexpected swish, almost clipping her hand.

She scowled, pushed up both sleeves, and closed in with the tweezers extended. She closed them around one gleaming silver hair.

She yanked. Hard.

It came away cleanly, jumping from the follicle with a sound like a snapped guitar string.

Poink.

She backed two steps away, turning intangible on her next breath, slipping the particles of her form through the grass without disturbing it and marking her trail. The unicorn jerked its head up with an undignified, high pitched Eep.

She circled once more, still intangible, one foot only denting the grass on the last step that brought her back in. She reached out...

Poink.

Another squeak, another unicorn momentarily distracted from its efforts to molest one virgin or the other.

Poink.

She ducked just in time. She narrowly missed a glowing hoof as it reflexively lashed out over her head.

As she withdrew, three hairs curled comfortably in the jar, another unicorn trotted up close to investigate the melee.

Poink-poink.

Two more hairs were stuffed into the jar and she fled like the proverbial bat out of hell, repeating the cloaking incantation under her breath over and over again. Passing the one unicorn in a kilt, she decided some light vengeance was in order.

Poink.

"OI!!" She was already well away by the time Ohryn jerked up with a yell.

She only dared to venture in a minute later, by which time Ohryn had decided to move in. The non-humanoid unicorns parted to either side of his approach, lining up respectfully and flanking their keeper.

All those tails in a neat row. It was eating her alive, having to gather them one by one.

Poink. Poink. Poink.

The little foal bowed its head and shook like it was chuckling.

Poink.

[Josiah Gray]

The human mage stirred slowly, blood properly circulating through his body (no thanks to unicorns that will remain nameless) and bringing consciousness with it. It was on the edge of being awake, the he realized the grass felt softer than grass should normally be - more bedlike, and less pointy. He wondered if Lord had done something to it, while he was out. He sensed him nearby, but then noticed something else new about this particular awakening.

He couldn't see.

"Lord?"

"Don't look," the dragon growled gently - or as gently as a perpetually paranoid, half-angry guardian spirit could do 'gentle' sounds.

"Huh?" The youth of flesh and blood one reached up towards his face, and recognized the dragon's hand latched tightly over his eyes. "Hey! Let go."

A large beast whinnied nearby, sounding a lot like it had just been forced to endure some indignation. Cowboy movies of spurs digging into sides - those had horses making that kind of noise, if he remembered correctly. But cowboys don't live in the woods of Greenwich, and they weren't looking for horses.

Josiah's heart spiked once.

"No," the dragon outright refused. "You'll panic. Stay down."

Another horse-like noise accompanied a heavy stomping of the grass nearby. It sounded too close - and the fact that Lord tried to shoo one back didn't make things any easier on blind fears.

I'm panicking because I can't see. Now take your hand off me he rapidly, telepathically shot at his counterpart, pushing the spirit's limb off of his head. That time, Lord actually let him.

Josiah opened his eyes wide, looking straight up at the circle of white figures. His vision focused, and made a half dozen horned white horses shapes of the circle. They were all breathing excitedly, eager to be the first one the virgin saw first - or maybe did other things first.

The young mage's skin flushed again.

Put it back put it back put it back.

[Hermia]

Yet another unicorn arrived to the gathering, and was swiftly charged its admission fee.

Poink.

With fifteen hairs in the jar, her hands beginning to shake and the unicorns clustering around the good-hearted human virgin in a jostling melee once more, Hermia retreated a safe distance away to catch her breath. The unicorn foal came cantering after her, its expression the very model of guileless bemusement.

She didn't like that expression. She didn't trust it. Among her Camford peers had been a set of Halfling twins who cultivated and used that very countenance to mask their frequent nefarious plots and their incontrovertible responsibility for whatever calamity had just occurred in their presence. When people made that face, it meant trouble, and it brought to mind a long list of Latin words and phrases with which she could make their lives very inconvenient.

But this was a unicorn making that face at her, and she knew the rules, so she settled for making the nastiest, most threatening face she could muster back in its direction and thinking about how she converted live rabbits into a delicious stew. And boiled their bones to make her bread. And how she then left the inedible leftovers in an untidy mess all around the vicinity, and then cackled her most evil cackle while gloating over her handiwork.

The foal moved in, completely unfazed, and nuzzled her shoulder.

Hermia huffed, plopped down onto her tails in the soft grass, summoned a flask of tea to her hands and took a long, calming swig. She hugged her knees close and watched another batch of unicorns, an adult with three foals at its heels, moving in to investigate the virgin.

[Major NPC]

Braving the threat of the very large, sharp-clawed and -fanged translucent virgin of technically human origin, the biggest unicorn in the gathering approached the fallen human, going down on one knee as he drew close enough to touch him.

"Josiah?" Ohryn tasted the word as he spoke it. He felt it on his tongue, weighed the sensation against the sight of the young man and the guardian spirit looming defensively over him with a hand over its eyes. He sensed the fluttering anxiety, the racing heart, all a shadow of the heated rush that had poured from the human right before he collapsed.

He had to hide a smirk at the memory, even as he wondered if he could make it happen again. Except the next time it did, he'd be doing the catching. And holding. And the...

An impatient snort and a waiting nudge to his back saw his thoughts grounded back in the present.

"Josiah," he whispered. "Can ya hear me, lad?" He kept his other foot planted, an elbow resting on his bent knee for support. He leaned forward, shoulders lowered and pulled in to make himself seem smaller and less hulking. "'Tis safe ter look now," he said.

He turned, making eye contact with the nearest unicorns, and waved them back several paces with a gesture. "We won't 'urt ya," he continued. "Never. Oi promise."

He reached a sinewy arm out, his thick palm upturned and open, offering a hand to help him up. Still not touching, with the guardian spirit's glare so intensely fixed on him. "Yer safe 'ere. 'Tis a good place. Ye won't come ta harm on these grounds."

[Josiah Gray]

"Josiah," the voice whispered twice, giving closed eyes a sound to focus on amid the antsy hoofsteps. "Can ya hear me, lad? 'Tis safe ter look now."

The friendly accent enticed him to open an eye, to look past the dragon above and see the beastfolk of mythic birth. Shadowed features should have been darker, but the white fur practically glowed with its own, inborn light. Josiah couldn't tell if it was that, or just a reflection off of something else that was casting the angelic aura on him.

The light made looking away from his chiseled feature's a task all the more difficult - one that nervously swallowing did nothing to make any easier. Ohryn directed several of the more eager unicorns to back further away, and Josiah felt like he could take a deeper breath at last. It was all in his head - and that he knew, but getting that through to his head was harder.

The dragon guard gave his consciousness a nudge, reminding him that the spiritual guardian wasn't just outside but in, and perfectly willing to throw a few switches inside on Josiah's behalf.

"We won't 'urt ya," Ohryn continued, external affirmation so very necessary for the scarred mage. "Never. Oi promise."

The broad unicornfolk reached a sinewy arm out, his thick palm upturned and open, offering a hand to help him up. He didn't touch him - it was just an offer. The dragon's teeth bared slightly, dangerously sharp fangs reminding everyone in the glade with a horn that some spirits can still chew.

"Yer safe 'ere. 'Tis a good place. Ye won't come ta harm on these grounds."

Josiah wasn't sure of that. Something still felt very wrong, and memories of stampedes past had taught him of the very lethal nature of quadrupeds. The incredibly loud distraction of the well-endowed body above was completely and totally not helping anything, and the very recent memory of hefty biceps raised and showing off only further occupied his mind's eye.

But Ohryn promised - he promised - and his heart twinged and wanted to believe him. Synapses racing a few million miles per hour criss crossed over that feeling with paintbrushes, doing their best to come up with all the reasons and fears that they should just be vanishing and finding another way to Elijah. But the feeling was still visible through the mess. The feeling was bigger.

He reached up to grab at his hat with his left hand, holding it to his head as his other grasped Ohryn's thick, strong hand.

A prideful dragon looked away and blew a misty gust at one of the nearer unicorns, then he stood up as well.

"Thanks," Josiah mumbled, just barely audible, before he coughed into his left hand.

[Major NPC]

Josiah reached out and touched him.

The gathered assembly went still.

Josiah touched him.

There was a breeze dancing on his palm. Warmth circling around his fingers. A new soul. A kind soul. A pulsing fire, unjoined to another.

Ohryn shivered. His own fingers curled around the man's smaller hand, holding tighter, keeping the grip gentle, anything to get closer to the soul wrapped in human flesh and feel more of the pleasant rolling up his arm.

"Thanks," the human mumbled.

Ohryn's other hand closed over the point of contact, sandwiching the pale fingers in warmth. "Yer welcome," he said, his voice still a low murmur. He lowered his head. The top hand shifted aside, baring Josiah's. His gaze stayed on Josiah's eyes as his lips brushed the skin - so cold, so warm, all at once - and as he came back up, allowing a hint of the previous triumphant smile to creep back onto his features.

"Be welcome."

The surrounding unicorns breathed as one, exhaled as one, hot breath steaming into the cold air as one.

Poink.

One irritated squeal was followed by an amused snicker. Beneath his hooves, within the ground, the Presence stirred and grumbled, dulled emotions and half-formed images flickering as if prodded in its sleep.

He was going to have a word with the little witch. Later.

"Josiah." He said the name again. He was beginning to like that name. "The witch tells me ya came ta see a unicorn..." He loosened his grip and rose halfway, waiting for Josiah to pull himself up. "Now ye've seen 'em. Are we anythin' loike ye heard tales of?" He allowed himself a chuckle. "Better, even?"

Poink.

The young man was pale. Eyes going wide. Shock, realization, a self-directed beratement, all churning and rising within.

"Josiah?"

A noise like distant thunder rumbled.

The Presence awoke like a torrent. Ohryn winced as new images were imposed over his vision, not a fox-fey and a human and a dragon as before, but so many, so many, a human and a wolf and feral dogs and figures in armor and hands with nets and sharp blades and guns, and he felt the rage blaze like his own; thieves, sacrilege, harming the children, danger, danger, thieves, and it was all he could do just to forge his way back through the storm, back to his own body and mind as the spirit still railed of the children in peril and danger and thieves -

"Thieves," he whispered, as the world came back. He was on his hands and knees, gasping for air.

The sky above blazed electric violet, seen through a dome of that same color that stretched beyond his vision but which he knew, because the spirit of the land knew, touched seamlessly to the ground. Encircling. Trapping.

Hooves drummed in the distance. A unicorn screamed.

Invisible feet silently dented the grass, the form of the little witch fading back into solid color as she lifted her own enchantment. A haversack rode high on her shoulders where it hadn't been before, a familiar blue tail and clawed foot hanging out. "Poachers!" She yelled, then met Ohryn's face and turned pale. "I didn't do it! I didn't bring them, I swear!"

[Josiah Gray]

Life signs, 300 feet!! the dragon mentally pinched the young mage into alertness.

Josiah forgot to pay attention.

He'd been paying too much to Ohryn before, and not enough elsewhere. He didn't answer Ohryn. He was too busy looking far and away and all around and only then noticing the danger his subconscious had been trying to focus on. A vast surge of magic preceded the quickly growing barrier, encompassing the entire area and all of the beings inside. Josiah's eyes darted back and forth between the herd of unicorns - such a big herd of them - and the guardian folk, visibly wincing from what must have been the same danger he felt.

The unicorns stomped and pattered around, and Josiah felt fear bubbling upwards in each of them, which only compounded his own nerves. Raging hoof steps suddenly attached themselves to an image, as two men on horseback chased one horned straggler into the main group. All the beasts twisted and ambled to get away, jostling for an escape route. Josiah grabbed and pressed himself closer to Ohryn, hiding against his bigger body, away from the other mystic beasts.

The closest poacher readied his arrow, unloosing a quick shot at the unicorn nearest to him.

The spectral dragon phased through the edge of the herd, turning himself tangible again in front of them so as to be a solid bulwark. But the arrow wasn't designed to pierce. It exploded into a net a few feet before the dragon, steel-like wrappings surrounding and dragging him down onto his back with its force.

"Lord!!" He shouted the name as he pressed away from Ohryn and tried to get closer to his familiar's side.

I'm okay, just stop them!! The dragon shot back even as he tried and failed to phase through its enchanted bindings. Claws resorted to tugging and shredding at it instead - with more difficulty than he expected.

The archer fired more shots as the panic hit full swing, the herd shoving each other all about as they scattered and ran, outright bolting for an escape route. Josiah crossed his arms in front of him protectively, his body glowing with a blue aura of defensive magic.

One of the poachers hoisted a pair of great javelins up, and threw them high in the air over a big clump of the herd. Each exploded out into the shape of a net, weighted ends designed to capture and hold just like the arrows. Josiah reached out with his mind and grasped at them, flinging one net aside into a tree and throwing the other back in the complete opposite direction.

Then he magically reached out again, toward a low hanging tree branch. As the javelin thrower prepared for another barrage, the branch swatted him clear off his horse and into another tree. A quick clench of Jo's hand had that tree growing branches for a bear hug.

"Mage resistance! Mage resistance!" the poacher shouted over a handsfree commlink. The tree made a fist and gave him a quick bop on the helmet to keep him quiet.

Josiah fell back on old tactics, when a young swordsman and ancient witch walked in front of him. He projected his own thoughts to the fox and Ohryn, along with previously gained intelligence: images of the poachers surrounding them.

There are four groups of people in the barrier - a fifth outside. We've gotta split up before any port out! I'll grab East. Lord, go north!

Josiah had turned only half way around, before his body suddenly vanished a mid a flurry of snow.

[Hermia]

Some days, Hermia thought the universe was out to get her - if not the whole, at least some significant parts of it. Greenwich had been a crucial factor in her journey as a mage, but she was beginning to believe she had overstayed her welcome.

The archer drew too close. Ohryn rushed him with a yell. The whole of his body flowed through the practiced motions of a haymaker swing.

Solid knuckles at the end of so much momentum turned bones to fragments and brains to jelly, and threw the man from his horse to land like a flopping ragdoll, the head at an unnatural angle. Hermia barely blinked at each impact.

She took in the commotion and panic with the detached, resigned aplomb of a witness to far too much bullshit, allowing herself a brief flash of satisfaction at the sight of Josiah's guardian spirit thrashing in the loving embrace of a magical net. Memo to self: get one of those. Learn to launch it from a squirtbottle.

She felt Josiah's mind brush her own, leaving thoughts behind in images and his voice.

There are four groups of people in the barrier - a fifth outside. We've gotta split up before any port out! I'll grab East. Lord, go north!

Then he was on the move - and so was Ohryn, the big unicorn moving in with a surprising amount of caution to approach the struggling dragon spirit. "'Ere now, stop flailin' around! Oi can 'elp, jis don't hit me fer troiyin'!" He dropped back to his knees andtook hold of the wire mesh. Thick arms strained, veins standing out like cords as he hauled on the net with a ferocious grunt.

Hermia's wand was up and aimed in a moment. "Laxus."

The net glowed blue. The spell light faded without any change.

"Of course they'd make it to withstand that," she grumbled, taking a step closer. Time was against them and there were poachers out there waiting to be dealt with, so -

"Dimitto," to stow the jar safely in her haversack. "Accio," brought a straw doll and a pair of wire clippers to her hands.

She raised the faceless doll to her lips, felt the magic sleeping inside, woven through with blood and body, waiting for the touch of breath and spirit to awaken. "I am," she said, and threw the doll to land by the net.

Straw scattered in a puff of wind, and she looked back at herself, and tossed the wire clippers over to her straw duplicate - her Fetch - before turning to run.

Lord, go north, Josiah had said. "I'll deal with the group at the south," she said through the straw body. She knelt, eyes focused to observe the movements of the net, pinpointing the places where metal wound thin, and moved in with the shears to work them thinner still. "Laxus," she repeated the word once every few seconds, casting and maintaining the blue glow over the net. Magic to trickle against the net's solid enchantments. Magic to wear it away like water.

[Josiah Gray]

The struggling dragon chewed harder on the wires, vengeful growls loosed upon all around. Slitted eyes glared at them both, first at the horse of a man and then on that suspect vixen. But his thoughts weren't really on either of them, but on the mage suddenly absent.

Damn it, Josiah, if you get yourself killed!!

The young mage didn't respond.

In an explosion of icy snow and wintry cold, Josiah forcefully made his presence known in front of his called adversaries. Three unicorns were racing towards his back, pounding as hard as the heart beating in his chest. The poachers only allowed themselves a single moment of surprise at the glowing figure's appearance, before mercenary experience had them aiming weapons again.

He swatted aside a group of binding arrows without touching them. His mind grasped a flying javelin, and threw it back at two of them. The net exploded out, just like the one that caught Lord. One of the poachers was able to dive out of the way, but the other gave a cry as he was webbed up and launched off his feet.

The unicorns braked hard as they noticed the conflict ahead, stomping feet and changing their direction to flee in some other way. Weapons readied again for another barrage. Josiah threw his hand out wide, and the earth shot up as a solid wall between them and the unicorns.

"I am the Blue Mage, Dragon Knight Josiah, and you are threatening a protected species. Disperse from this location or -"

A lightning bolt launched itself from one of the poacher's hands, striking with enough explosive force to blow apart a large chunk of the wall. Josiah raised his arms up to protect himself again, recoiling slightly even though he'd never dropped his protective field.

An ash-skinned fey kept his hand held up, as he took a few steps closer, purposefully letting Josiah know who it had been. A wizardly touch of dark flowing sleeves was added to the black leather armor he wore, and the stark white hair only further clinched him as one of the Dark Elves.

"You're slightly outnumbered here, Knight," he said in an unnaturally elegant way.

The dragon's voice grew from a growl into a roar, and his body grew with it, pushing aside his two helpers as bulk strained and magic attacked. Wires snapped and shredded, torn to pieces and flung every which way with the extension of massive wings. With one great flap, the full grown draconic spirit was airborne and rocketing north, following his master's orders.

Damn it, Josiah, don't you fucking die!!

[Hermia]

Hermia ran. The dense fog blew through her, never clinging to her form or slowing her steps. She sprinted, never touching the air, for whatever few more seconds it bought her. Far away, the net ripped as Lord burst free. She severed the connection to her Fetch at once, letting straw return to the ground.

Hooves hammered at the dirt, close behind and gaining on her. She whirled, wand pointed, and almost put the young foal's eye out. It swerved aside in time, rapidly slowing, and trotted a slow circle around the fox.

"No." She made a half-hearted attempt to swat it on the nose and it pulled away with another cheerful sound. "Don't follow me. Bad men are trying to steal your friends and do awful things to them. They'll try to steal you too."

If it understood that, it gave no indication, instead choosing to nuzzle her again.

"Homines revelio," she said into the southward fog. She saw three solid yellow shapes - the figures of humans, detected by her spell. The images relayed by Josiah suggested there were probably more.

She tried again. "Corpores revelio." More solid shapes of light - some on all fours, horned, fleeing or backed against something or lying on their sides, unmoving. More figures on two legs, one with a canine snout and ears and tail. The unicorn tried to sniff her shoulder. She caught it by the chin and spoke another spell. "Transmitto visus."

The foal looked past her shoulder, seeing the figures highlighted through the fog as she could. "And that's why you can't follow me." Resolving to ignore the creature's further attempts at communication, she summoned a vial from her bag, downed the viscous red syrup glowing inside, and felt the magic fizz to her fingertips at once - a liquid boost to her magic, designed to make her spells strike harder and last longer.

The foal's horn dug into her ribs, and she felt someone else's concern.

She squared her shoulders and took a step further. Another nudge. She turned, ready to snarl as time slipped through her fingers, moment by moment.

The young unicorn looked back at her with sad, expressive liquid eyes.

She huffed. "Oh, alright. You can help..."

"Levicorpus." Trouble snuffled in his sleep and swiped at the air as the magic lifted him from his perch. She caught the salamander in her hands and held it up to the foal. "This is Trouble. Could you take care of him for me, please?"

The foal nickered in a happier tone and leaned in to bump her familiar, nose to nose.

"Thanks." Hermia ran.

* * * * * * * * * *

Hidden from sight, footsteps muffled, she watched the poachers with their electric prods surround the unicorns and steer them into a small cluster. Some of the horses looked frightened, others rebellious. All likely to dissolve into another milling stampede if they didn't think those sharp rods could hurt them.

Unicorns were fairly intelligent. Put a gap in the circling poachers, and they could figure out the rest.

"Accio." From the depths of her bag, a glass orb was summoned into her hand. She hefted the sphere, studying the "butterfly" frozen inside it - a patchwork insect, the body of a wasp, the multicolored wings stitched from a forgotten number of different scales.

One poacher brandished his prod. She took aim at him. "Everbero!"

Orange light streaked for his head. It made contact with a sharp clang and a tinkle of broken glass as the impact hammered through his skull and smashed his goggles along the way.

She was already running as the yells rose, shock turning organization into chaos, taking aim again. "Stupefacio!"

Red light rebounded off a second poacher. Struck his neighbor and dropped him without a sound.

"Expelliarmus!" A prod was ripped from the hands of a third and sent flying up, end over end.

She wheeled her left hand overhead and let the orb fly. Brittle glass hit the earth and shattered at the group's feet.

Hermia retreated as a million, million phantom butterflies scattered every which way, all dazzling wings and buzzing like furious bees,. They drowned out the sounds of the frantic yelling, made regrouping all but impossible - and then came the clamor of a hundred, hundred hoofbeats as the unicorns fled all over again.

She summoned two dolls and awakened them into Fetches. Her two copies dropped to all fours, faces elongating, bodies shrinking, transforming from faerie to fox. Another spell turned them invisible. One charged into the fray.

[Josiah Gray]

The scattered herd of unicorns was already trapped. The poachers just had to shoot the white horned fish in an electric violet barrel, and they'd walk away with billions. Everyone there but the unicorns already knew that.

The northernmost poachers waited, several of them holding back the war dogs given enchanted collars for strength and speed. Crossbow men were on a knee each, waiting with their own magicked armaments for the figures to run into their ambush.

Hooves stomped louder and louder, the white shadows glimmering through the foliage in front of them.

"Wait for it," the armored Orc commanded from behind them, tall and broad and decorated for combat with dark blood across his steel attire.

The unicorns were fifteen feet shy of the glade, and closing rapidly.

"Get ready to -"

A sudden gout of blue fire shot down from the sky, trailing side to side and creating a massive wall of flames. The unicorns whinnied in terror, jumping back on hind hooves and taking off another direction. But the poachers weren't looking at the unicorns. They were looking at the great white dragon flying over them.

Barked orders had the group changing targets and formation, aiming at the largest threat under the barrier instead. Crossbow bolts had been enchanted like arrows, blasting into nets as the dragon approached. The great beast opened its maw again, streams of fire torching the bolts and heading further in the direction of the poachers.

A sudden loud noise rang out like a bell, and fire was dispersed before it could reach them. The armored Orc was wielding a metallic staff, and both ends seemed to be adorned with cylindrical extensions. Lord looked at it closer as he winged back again, and this time launched a fireball from his maw.

The Orc swung the staff, and the sound came ringing out again from one of the "bells". The fireball exploded as if hitting an invisible wall, poachers protected from searing heat and flame. The Orc laughed loudly, just standing for another moment before he jumped up and slammed one end of the the staff into the ground. The wall of flames blew away, and the trees bent with the force of it as well.

Small bits of metal suddenly peppered his hide, as the would-be horse thieves switched to more deadly implements - or what would have been. Normal bullets were only an annoyance to the spectral reptile, and he didn't try to dodge as he came around for another pass.

Then one made contact, and detonated an explosion right against his chest cavity. The force of it blasted his whole body flying away from its intended course, spiraling wildly to the right.

Stupid dragon he berated his overconfidence, even as levitation fought to regain his quick descent into the trees.

Dust shot up high through the tree tops as the earth shook.

[Josiah Gray]

"Do not waste your weapons," the elf ordered his comrades. "Get the unicorns while I deal with this pest!"

The earth shook beneath their feet, accompanied by the great noise. Poachers staggered a moment. Josiah lost his balance and only avoided a fall with a telekinetic assist. Then his face turned sharply back toward the northern group as he realized where the tremor and sound had come from. He promptly reached out towards his other half, along the invisible connection that bound the two together.

Lord! LORD!! he shouted more urgently in his mind.

I'm fine. Focus on your own group!! the reply came back quick.

The young mage turned around just in time to see the blasts of magic rapidly approaching while several of the poachers ran toward the hole in the rock wall. His weak body braced itself, but it was his mind that crafted the blue barrier around himself just in time. Teeth gritted hard as pain blasted into his mind from multiple sides, but left his body unharmed.

"Hey!" Josiah thrust his right hand at the escapees. Water blasted from his open palm, a torrent that split out into three airborne streams. The snake-like rivers smashed into the poachers, knocking them off their feet. Water instantly turned to ice where they landed, glueing them helplessly to the ground and trees.

Both hands aimed a second torrent at the rest of the poachers. The dark elf's hands wreathed with a dark purple flame, and water crashed against translucent shields of the same. As soon as the water stopped flowing, the firey shields vanished as well - but not before the dark elf took that opportunity to say something in a language Josiah didn't understand.

Ice restrained mercanaries were suddenly freed as their bonds turned to steam. Weapons were grabbed again, and started to aim, but the dark elf repeated the orders.

"Do not interfere!" he started soft before ending in a yell. "Go and get the unicorns!"

Josiah's eyes flared with blue light, and the ground beneath the poachers suddenly shook again as it turned to sand under their very feet. Their legs dipped down two feet deep into the sudden quicksand. Then phantom hands appeared near each of the poachers, grabbing them by the jacket and practically tossing them out of the simple trap.

More mystic missiles fired Josiah's way, while the elf laughed with all the confidence of one controlling the battle. Josiah didn't try to block it himself this time. A chunk of the ground unearthed itself and flew in their path, exploding under the force of the barrage. Josiah instinctively put his hands in front of his face to shield himself from the dirt and dust. A quick gust of wind around himself blew away the debris in the air, before it could give him any further breathing trouble.

"Perhaps you should be changing your strategy, child," the elf taunted, folding his arms across his chest. Josiah's chest was pounding rapidly, a sudden clenching tightness in it making it harder to breath and harder to think.

He swallowed, and had to agree.

"Yeah. … I think I will."

Hands slapped together in front of him, and winter exploded from them as the most violent of snowstorms.

[Major NPC]

Children afraid. Children in pain. The ground was silent. The land was screaming.

Ohryn saw the thieves, the fleeing herd, and the battles joining on three fronts to push the invaders back.

One group left to deal with. The Spirit showed him an orb of red light hovering aloft, extending tendrils of dancing fire that charred a circle around the Children to keep them hemmed in. Long sleeves flowed like rivers of white and black around a figure's circling arms, mystic gestures holding the spellwork while thieves in armor and thieves in forest green prowled close by on high alert.

His patron's anger leaned against his own, urging him forward, desperately cajoling and frantically prodding the Keeper to act, to act now, and his heart ached with a pain not entirely another's as he forced himself to slow his steps and stay hidden and think.

The guardian spirit lay stricken from the sky, either wounded or waiting. The little witch was moving to punish her foes with cold, mercenary intent. Josiah was hidden amid a world of blinding white, snow whirling like Ohryn had never seen. The Spirit relayed snatches of frantic yelling. Mage resistance. They already knew, then, and were prepared to meet magic with magic.

He counted his enemies one last time and tried, without success, to identify the array of weaponry in their hands. Then there was nothing left but the charge. The Spirit helped where it could. His pounding hooves made no sound.

His first blow fell like a hammer. The rough, solid material of the first thief's helmet splintered without resistance, and his fist continued down through to the man's skull and spine. He dropped. His body convulsed.

And then Ohryn yelled his own rage, and his solid hoof lashed out to catch one poacher who was moving too slow. The leopardfolk was backing away, the long barrel of his gun coming up to aim. His chin jerked too high and too far back. The weapon never fired.

His next strike passed straight through a body clad from head to toe in forest green. Cloth and flesh wavered like a mirage as the poacher's charge carried on, the intangible body passing by his own. Serrated metal dragged along his right side, just above the kilt, and the wound erupted into pain, more pain than befitted the shallow kiss of a blade.

He staggered. Five pinpricks sank into his naked back, a brief spark of pain followed by total numbness that began to spread through his flesh.

Barking and snarling, a hound worried at his heels as he sank to his knees.

Footsteps thudded closer. He heard the noise warping as if he was underwater.

His eyes closed.

When they opened, they were a solid white.

The unicornfolk surged back up with a defiant snarl, bleeding silver fire from wounds that were already sealing. The world snapped back into sharp, perfect focus, and he seized the hound by its throat when it next jumped for him. Caught, and squeezed, until its sizeable body convulsed and cartilage popped. Kept squeezing as he threw himself forward and rolled and came back up, dodging a javelin that became an empty net yawning wide. More darts struck, and the white fire leapt from his veins to burn poison and metal to dust.

He whirled to the left at the Spirit's prompting, in time to see a crossbow raised and ready to fire.

The hound's lifeless body intercepted bolt and poacher in a single throw. The elf in his armor didn't have time to rise off his back before Ohryn's hooves came on the gap between chestplate and helmet.

[Hermia]

The prismatic cloud of fluttering insects slowly thinned, revealing what she'd hoped - the unicorns had seen their chance and scattered. At least, most had; some that had been unconscious not more than a minute ago were now up and attempting to escape on their unsteady legs, while other less afflicted unicorns stood between them and the poachers to guard their flight.

Not that the men would have noticed, when something small and invisible with very sharp teeth was running between their legs, yapping out a taunting call as it clawed at gloved fingers and worried at whatever bare skin it could find.

She watched through three pairs of eyes as the poachers flailed and swung out wildly at their unseen foe. One was hanging back - carefully withdrawing from the center of confusion, and she recognized him as the one whose polished bronze armor had deflected her spell. A dark, sleek helmet, chrome-polished metal in the shape of a dog's head, seemed to be following her Fetch's movements.

She checked through the straw construct's eyes. No mistaking it. The armored poacher's gaze with its red lenses was trained directly on the doll-made-fox.

The poacher barked an order and raised a gauntleted fist, pointing the arm directly at the Fetch. As the others scattered out of the way, there was a high-pitched whine. A tiny gun barrel protruded from the gauntlet, its tip glowing the same bright red.

The whine of the tiny steel bead made Hermia's ears itch as it blasted through the air at an appreciable fraction of the speed of sound and reduced her Fetch to scattering straw.

Hermia took a prudent step back, the first of an intended many in a swift tactical retreat.

That turned out to be a mistake, as the wolf-helmet swivelled to aim its glare straight at her. Following their leader's gaze, the rest of the poachers raised their ranged weapons in her general direction.

Well, that tears it. A female voice yelled a mystic phrase, and the stealth charms whipped off her form with a loud and distinctive whump.

Well, that definitely tears it. She jabbed her wand at the ground near the poachers. "Confringo!"

The shockwave kicked up pebbles and clods of grassy earth, and the nearest of her opponents jumped back, one obscuring the wolf-head's line of sight long enough to let her get another spell off. "Mucus aligerum!"

The red jet of light splashed onto a javelin-toting orc. The energy spread like water for a moment, then changed directions and shot right up his nose. Hermia saw his yellow eyes widen in shock, before both his hands came up to stifle his sneeze, clapping over his nose hard enough to dislodge the wolf pelt from his head and shoulders.

The bloodcurdling screams began, growing hoarser and higher in pitch as something extremely disgusting happened. Taking advantage of the gruesome distraction, Fey and Fetch turned and ran. They didn't have five seconds before the bullets began to fly.

[Josiah Gray]

White flakes swirled with such speed and intensity to make a blinding whiteout of their surroundings. The roar of the wind was practically deafening, and only added to the sensory onslaught they had to deal with. The escaping poachers were brought down to a walk amid the freezing gale, unable to see anything beyond a few feet. The confused lot wasn't sure whether to keep following orders, hold still, or turn back to attack.

Separated by the storm, each poacher simply did whatever he thought best. Several bolts were fired into the wild flurries, and disappeared into them as well. The dark elf slashed his fire-wreathed hands at the storm, calling up counterspells and loosing them with his voice. It abated only slightly, before empty spaces quickly filled in again.

Poachers were struck, one by one, dropping to the ground in the storm as something wrapped around them and webbed them down.

The dark elf's sense of magic was clouded just like his eyes by the whiteout, wrapped in such a thick layer of magic as it was. He listened over the commlink, as first one ally shouted they were tied down. Then a second said it. Then a third, and a fourth, and the wizard's rage slowly bubbled as his troops were taken out of the hunt.

Josiah teleported a distance behind the last mercenary in his field, a stolen crossbow in hand. He didn't need to see through the snow, to know where he was.
He could sense it. He pulled the trigger, the bolt flying out and becoming the magic-resistant net, capturing and restraining - and not killing. The last of the grunts went down, leaving just the elf.

A wicked shortsword shoved itself through Josiah's back, sticking out the other side of his stomach. Eyes were wide with shock and his whole body tensed up with it, too. The blade drew back as the elf shoved Josiah forward onto the ground. His landing was only slightly padded, by the layer of snow he was responsible for.

The wintry hurricane abated, wind losing its energy and snow falling to the earth at gravity's beckon. The young mage clutched tightly at his stomach, the arm once wielding the crossbow now covering the wounded area. Josiah rolled over, onto his back, looking up at the dark figure. He was looking down at him, too, holding the enchanted blade at his side.

"My kind practically invented the concept of stealth," he gloated. "Did you think that storm would be your benefit alone?"

Josiah didn't respond. He breathed heavier, taking deeper gulps of air through his mouth while shoving himself away onehanded in a backwards crawl.

"I admit, you have been quite a nuisance. But you are done now, and so am I," the elf said victoriously. Eyes locked onto Josiah's as he brought his blade up closer to his lips. "I wonder how you taste…"

His mouth stayed open after the last word, and his tongue darted out to drag along the blade.

And then he couldn't pull it away.

"Whagh? Whagh ihhs hihhhs?!" The elf's face suddenly contorted in confusion, as he tried tugging the blade harder away. It was Josiah's turn to give a small chuckle, as half-feigned fear gave way to images of an elf sticking his tongue to a metal pole in winter. Rage took over the elf's features again, and he used his free hand to fire a bolt of lightning at the downed mage.

Josiah disappeared in another flurry of snow before it could make contact, taking his place twenty feet away. He brushed himself off a bit, and dared to have a smile on his face. Where the blade had pierced, there was a distinct lack of any red. All around his feet, the white flakes began to rise up again, swirling in a ring just a few feet around his legs.

"Snow," Josiah answered with a muted smile. "My blood tastes like snow right now."