Wake (Breathe III) (Underconstruction, over 400 pages lost)

[Riverdane]

Camille approached Talvarien from behind. The barbarians he had taken with him, half of the tribe’s warriors that would be storming Vox, were clumped in a tight group, the five watching Talvarien positioning another of them in front of the tree they were using for target practice. Arrows lay scattered on the snow. Camille waited until Talvarien stepped back from the man to watch him draw, and then tapped him on the shoulder. Talvarien nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Oh, Cami, it’s you.” Talvarien sighed, exhaling visibly in the cold air. His breath came out like white mist. He turned his attention to the barbarian, drawing on his bow. “Ok, Gillan, pull the string back behind your ear, but easy, and not too far, like I showed you.” He turned his attention back to Camille, and Gillan pulled back the bowstring. “How’s McCullen?” he asked.

“He’ll live.” Camille replied. “Once we got him back to Brieah, she slapped a regeneration onto his foot. The hole disappeared after a few minutes, but he bled all over Divad’s bearskin rug.”

“How…” Talvarien asked, eyes weary. “…how in hells does one shoot their own foot….with a bow!”

Camille just shrugged, as weary as he was. “Luck?” she offered.

“Take McCullen off the list.” Talvarien suggested. “Put him in the tank line up.” Camille nodded.

CRACK!

Talvarien didn’t even turn to look. He just closed his eyes.

“Throw it in the pile.” he said resignedly. Camille watched Gillan sheepishly drop the bow he had snapped in half on top of a pile of split bows. There were at least four already in the pile. “Brody, you’re up. And remember, you’re archers, not warriors, for this hit. You have to control your strength before we’re out of bows.”

Brody stepped forward, holding his own bow as if it were a live snake. “I keep tryin’ ta tell ya!” he whined, “We learnt all we hadda when we were trained as warriors! Pull back and let the arrow bounce off the monster, get its attention and when it gets close, chop it up!”

Talvarien sighed. “I know I know what they taught you. But this fight is different. We need to do some damage from a distance, and you guys are…the best from what I’ve seen to do that. You have to shoot for the eyes, the nostrils, the mouth of Vox. You have to find holes in her defenses and send the arrow there. You don’t NEED to just get her attention by bouncing an arrow off her head. You have to send the arrow THROUGH her head. We send all of you rushing her and her tail is going to take out half of you and her breath the other half. So work with me here. Try to hit the tree. Just one of you. Please. Try. Or Talv is going to cry.”

“Sissy.” Brody muttered, and stood up to the mark. Talvarien turned back to Camille and lowered his voice.

“ALL these guys were taught as warriors is to point the bow somewhere in the target’s vicinity, and hope it notices you when you miss. They use bows only ‘cause they shoot further than throwing rocks, or they’d be throwing them instead to get attention. They have no, repeat, NO skill at archery. How the hells are we going to mount a ranged offensive when they couldn’t hit Grummus after he swallows a pickup raid?”

Camille just shrugged again. Talvarien sighed.

“Ok ok ok.” he muttered. “But I hope you have training equally as unpleasant in store for Grelin to teach. If I have to be cold, frustrated and miserable, so does carrot boy. And where IS he? Skiing?”

“I haven’t seen him since this morning.” Camille replied, rubbing her hands together as the wind picked up.

Talvarien turned to watch Brody draw back. “Right, Brody, behind the ear, but not so far that you break the bow….Now, steady….ok. Let it fly.”

Brody let go of the bowstring with a twang. And screamed. Blood spurted out of the side of his head in a crimson spray, as something small flipped through the air like a tossed ball. It landed between Camille and Talvarien’s feet. They both looked down, as Brody dropped the bow, screaming as if stabbed, hands clamped over the left side of his head as blood fountained through his fingers. His ear lay neatly on the snow between them, perfectly severed.

“I said behind the ear, not BEHIND your ear!” Talvarien moaned.

“BRIEAH!” Camille called.
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[Riverdane]

Camille had one nerve left, and McMillan was stepping on it.

The day before, Talvarien had run out of bows and had given up for the day. fingers blue and mind fried. He spend most of today making new ones, and would try again with his team of ‘archers’ tomorrow. Camille had spent the remainder of the day inspecting the remaining warriors and looking over their armor, and having them spar against one another. She had finally chosen Gregor to be the main tank, given his brawn and rather singlemindedness in combat. She told the warriors to meet at the snow dragon the next day, which had aquired four lumpish claws, a long neck, and a tail, thanks to the beastlords and rogues who were pretty much set in what they had to do during the dragon fight. Brieah was working with the shaman on how to effectively time small heals to possibly keep a warrior alive long enough to tank Vox. It was Camille’s job today to give the other warriors a specific job for dealing with a potentially dangerous ability Vox may use.

“We’re low on tanks.” Camille said, pacing in the snow in front of the mock dragon while the seven men looked on at her. “And I need Henrid and Donnigar off-tanking Vox’s two giant clerics, who will be trying to heal her. That leaves us with five on Lady Vox herself. Gregor is going to main tank her, and Sellock will be on call as the second assist, in case Gregor falls or gets feared off or can’t hold agro, for whatever reason. Patror, you’re Sellock’s backup, in case the same thing happens again. If we lose all three of we’re in trouble.” She looked at the remaining two men, McMillan and a warrior that went by the nickname Spike for the spiked collar he always wore. “McMillan and Spike will be the shield men for keeping Vox from casting a Complete Heal on herself. If she gets off that spell, and she’ll try, you’ll have to fight her all over again, and believe me, you won’t want to do it. So, McMillan, Spike, you have your shields?”

Spike just nodded, picking up his shield from the snow. He carried it awkwardly and upside down. McMillan just stood there, shield at his feet, glaring hostilely at Camille. She sighed and turned her attention full to him.

“McMillan, is there a problem?” she asked. She was in no mood. Grelin had not returned the night before and she was sick with worry, plus the cold and the barbarians reluctance to adapt to a difficult task was not helping things.

“No problem.” McMillan said. “Jest not gunna use that there shield. I need both my weapons to chop the dragon up.”

“I already told you…” Camille said, tired of repeating herself. “The rogues are going to be providing much of the damage on Vox from behind. Your job is stop Vox from casting any spells, especially healing herself. That requires stuns, so you’ll have to use a shield to bash her from the side and stop her from getting off a Comp Heal.”

“Warriors don’t use shields!” he challenged, face set stubbornly. “I’d be providin’ half the damage I can put out! I’m not a damned sissy that hides behind a piece ‘o metal!”

“You’re not hiding behind the shield!” Camille retorted. “You’re using it like a weapon!”

“It’s not no weapon, it’s jest another piece ‘o armor, and I’m not givin’ up me offhand weapon to be running up against the side of no dragon like a ram buttin’ his head against a wall! The beastlords have a spell that makes their warders magic and give ‘em the ability ta stun, let them do it!”

Camille fought a losing battle with her patience. “I already told you, McMillan. We only have four beastlords. Two each will be on her two giant cleric guards, using the warde’rs stun ability to keep the giants from healing her as well. But the warder’s stun is a random thing, they don’t control it, it just happens when it happens. On Lady Vox I need men who can watch and see when she’s going to heal, and stop her, on cue…”

“I ain’t no beastlord’s pet!” McMillan exclaimed. “I’ll keep the damned thing so hurt she won’t be able to think of no healin’!”

“Fine, you think you can do that?” Camille asked, done with arguing with him. She stood squarely in front of him, about 6 feet away. Her eyes began glowing white, building up in power.

“What are ya doin’?” McMillan asked, glancing at her nervously. Her eyes had gone bright, and vacant, as she held her spell, her magic, in check.

“I’m going to cast on you, McMillan.” she said. “And you’re going to stop me, the way you claim you can, with your two weapons there.”

McMillan exchanged glances with his six companion warriors, then turned back to Camille. “I uh…I can’t hit ya. Yer a womman.”

“So is Vox.” Camille said flatly, eyes glowing brighter. “Stop me from casting.”

McMillan just shifted uneasily. “That’s different.”

“Aye.” Camille said. “She’s going to try to kill you. Me? I’m just going to hurt you.”

McMillan laughed a short little ugly laugh. “Ya gunna hurt me huh?” he snorted. He looked to Spike standing next to him. “Ya hear that, Spike? She’s gunna h…”

STUN.

The blast of power shot forth out of her eyes, knocking McMillon flat onto his back. He blinked numbly up at the sky.

“You were saying?” Camille asked. Spike uttered a laugh that McMillan silenced by staggering up to his feet and glaring at him. Both weapons were in his hands.

“Ok, womman, that’s how ya wanna play it.” he growled. He took two steps towards Camille, arms swinging up, both swords flying in the air in a blur.

STUN.

This time McMillan didn’t land flat on his back, but he did end up plopped into the snow dragon, pushed back far enough to have his backside disappear into the snow. Now the other warriors were chuckling openly at him. His face had gone an ugly dark red. Gregor teasingly picked up the shield sitting on the floor and handed it to McMillan. McMillan just spat on the ground.

“I can take a womman jest fine with no shield!” he snarled stubbornly. Gregor just shrugged with a smile and let the shield drop to the floor.

“Then take her, before she gives ya so many bruises ya can’t sit fer a week.” he suggested.

That was enough for McMillan. With a howl, he launched himself at Camille, coming in so close she could smell his warm breath. Swords flashed in the sunlight.

STUN.

This one pushed McMillan straight into the snow dragon. He disappeared in a puff of white powder. The men laughed loud and jeered.

“Will you use the shield?” Camille called into the hole in the side of the dragon.

“Never!” McMillan shouted back, sound muffled from the snow.

Camille had had enough of arguing with him. “Then you’re out, McMillan.” she said, as he stumbled out of the snow mound.

“I’m what?” he asked.

“You’re out. You won’t follow orders, and your damage output is negligible if you don’t keep her stunned.”

“You can’t jest take me out!” McMillan protested. “I’m a good warrior! The hells I’m out!”

“Good warrior?” Gregor snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Ya just got yer arse kicked by a womman. I’d agree her eyes are somethin’ else, but she laid ya out like a newbie.”

“Shaddup!” McMillan cried, ramming his shoulder into Gregor. It caught the big barbarian by surprise, knocking him to the ground. McMillan angrily sheathed his weapons and went to storm off.

“Wait!” Camille cried, staring at Gregor blinking in a daze on the ground.

“What?” McMillan asked, spinning around angrily.

“What did you just do to Gregor?” she asked.

“I slammed him for being a wise arse.” McMillan retorted, and turned to leave.

“Can you do that too?” Camille quickly asked Spike, a plan forming in her mind.

“Sure.” Spike said, and then with a move she couldn’t quite follow, Spike slammed his shoulder into McMillan, knocking the big barbarian down into the snow next to Gregor. McMillan cursed.

“That would stop a spell from being cast…” Camille murmured, half to herself. “…while leaving your hands free to dual weild your weapons.”

“Aye.” Spike said, nodding. “I imagine ya couldn’t get one of yer stuns out if I slammed ya.”

Camille reached down and offered McMillan a hand up. He stared at it.

“I think you won’t have to use that shield after all, McMillan.” she said.

He took her hand, and resisted the urge to squeeze it till she cried out. Instead, he allowed her to help him to her feet. “Good, cause I ain’t usin’ it.”

“Let’s get working, gentlemen.” Camille said, helping up Gregor. “We have to learn to time those slams, from all five of you.”

And other than the nagging worry of Grelin not returning, the latter part of the day went much smoother than the former.
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[Riverdane]

“Well?” Camille asked Talvarien, as the last of the sun’s light disappeared over the icecapped mountains of Everfrost. A light sprinkling of snow had begun to fall.

“Well what?” Talvarien asked, rubbing his hands together. “Well, how did the day go with the Merry Bowmen? Or Well, did you find any sign of Grelin?”

“Both.” Camille replied.

“Well, today I only had five broken bows and two casualties, so that’s a marked improvement.” he said, frowning. “Once he had no more ear to chop off with the bowstring, Brody actually turned out to be a halfway decent shot. But the rest of them? They don’t listen to me. I catch them making comments behind my back, calling me half-fairy, not listening when I talk, making fun of me. I don’t think I have the respect of these guys to teach them anything.”

“I know the feeling.” Camille said. “I had the same problem with McMillan today. Actually had to show him who was boss before I could get the warriors to start listening. They’re a thickheaded bunch, that’s for sure.”

“But you won them over?” Talvarien asked, eyebrow raised.

“I wouldn’t say won them over…” she admitted, “But I would say I made enough of an impression on them that they’ll stop fighting any suggestion I make. And in the process learned they could shift quite a bit of weight just by slamming it with their shoulder. It isn’t exactly a proper stun chain, but the way they slam may even give Vox a pause during her complete heals.”

“With the way things feel in here, they should just headbutt her!” Talvarien exclaimed. “They could take out a brick wall with their heads!”

‘Regardless,” Camille continued. “We’re doing everything we can with what we have.”

“Aye.” Talvarien agreed. “But…do we have enough?”

“I don’t know, Talv.” she replied with a sigh. “I simply don’t know.”

“Well, it’s a good thing it wasn’t Grelin teaching the shamans to do a fast heal spam. Half-fairy, they call me. They’d eat Grelin up alive. At least with Brieah, they’re afraid of Divad so they do what she says.”

“Speaking of Grelin…”

“I don’t know Cami.” Talvarien said, with a worried look on his face. “You know Grelin. He used to disappear for days on end back in the day. And with the way snow has been falling on and off, I couldn’t track him even if the tracks were two hours fresh, much less two days at this point. He probably just got frustrated and went to blow off steam somewhere. Wh knows, with Grelin?”

“I know Grelin.” Camille argued. “Better than anyone. And this isn’t like him, frustrated or not. He’d be here, time is too short. He may be lost out there somewhere, or hurt.”

“He’s not a kid anymore, Cami.” Talvarien said gently. “He’s a big boy now, and he’s probably off somewhere, fine. Grelin is more capable of taking himself than WE were, even when he was fifteen…”

“I don’t believe that, Talv.” she countered adamantly. “He wouldn’t simply leave when there’s work to be done.”

“And yet…he has.”

Camille would not look at him after that, just stared off watching the hills.

“Ok, Cami, you know, you’re as stubborn as River, sometimes.” Talv laughed. “If our wayward half-fairy doesn’t come back by tomorrow, I will go out in this freezing cold and search for him yet AGAIN. But for tonight, I…must….sleep.” He said each word slowly for emphasis, and Camille turned to him finally with a resigned look.

“Aye, Talv.” she said. “Go sleep. We’ll look tomorrow if he isn’t around.”

“Ok, it’s a deal.” Talvarien said, turning to leave. He looked back at her. “You coming with?”

“No.” she said. “I’m going to hang out here a while. Enjoy the scenery and the quiet.”

“Ok.” he replied. “Just don’t wander too far. I hear the orcs out here can get pretty nasty, and they hunt by night.”

“I’m a big girl, Talv.” Camille told him with a look.

“Ok, ok.” Talvarien said, hands up in the air in supplication. “But if you got hurt by being alone, River would come back to life just to kick my ass!”

“I’m ok, Talv.” she said, gentler. “Go.”

“Night Cami.” Talvarien said, trudging off through the snow.

“Night Talv.” Camille said absently, looking off into the snowy hills.

When Talvarien was out of sight, she rubbed her mittened hands together and trudged off, without a backward glance, into the hills.

Grelin was out there somewhere, and she was going to find him.
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[Riverdane]

The snow was falling so heavily her tracks would fill up before she walked one hundred paces from them. The air was bitterly cold, with the wind blowing the heavy flakes around and adding extra bite to the chill. She was only a half an hour into her search for Grelin, and already plain white snowy hills ahead. Plain white snowy hills behind. North Ro with snow. She was lost.

What the hells was she THINKING when she came out looking for the missing druid? Did she really think she was going to have more luck than an expert tracker? And for all she knew, Grelin wasn’t lost out here at all. He was probably in Plane of Growth eating apples with that girl Duir while she was lost in the frozen tundra freezing her breasts off.

The wind kicked up, making her body freeze and blood turn to ice in her veins. She found herself suddenly snowblind, and realized she could not even tell forward from backward for one numb, dizzying second. Then the winds kicked down, and she could make out the bark of a tree not yet completely covered in snow. She made for it like an oasis in a desert. All thoughts of Grelin were forgotten. Now the only thing she wanted to find was the barbarian village, and a warm fire. Panic gripped her like a mailed fist.

Again the wind started up, just as she reached the tree, howling from between two hills as it rushed across the lands of the north. It was strong enough to almost knock her off her feet, and she gripped the tree trunk for support. Ice and snow bit into her face as she was assaulted by the frozen atmosphere. She squinted her eyes as the winds died down and peered into the distance.

Off a far ways, she saw light.

Firelight, a big fire, the barbarians’ communal fire pits. Somehow, she had marched in a complete circle, and had come back toward where she started. She marveled briefly how the snow could turn people around, when she had been pretty certain she had marched in a semi straight line. But, lost in the dark, frozen, windtossed and tired, she was glad that for once her lack of direction had worked out for the best. All she wanted now was her bed. She beelined for the fire, lifting heavy boots through deep snow, half running, half stumbling towards the light.

Closer she drew, snow flurrying past her eyes. She used the light as a beacon, and ignored the cold, ignored the low lying snowcovered branches of overgreens that blocked her way.

Ignored the orc who stepped in front of her until it was almost too late. Too late. As his dark black, piggish features swam into view, she was able to finally make out details around the bonfire. And the orcish figures huddled around it for warmth.

Camille’s frozen senses were just a bit too slow.

“Redwind will be pleased.” the orc said in guttural common, as Camille reached sluggishly for Reaver.

And then her brain exploded in pain as she was struck heavily from behind, and all was black.
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[Riverdane]

Riverdane, cold and gray, stands in front of the dark haired, pale eyed human and inspects him, much like the people shopping for horses in the Bazaar do. The man being inspected is sitting passively in front of River, not making a sound, while Riverdane pokes and prods at him. River lifts one of the man’s hands and releases it, watching it drop lifelessly to his side. Then he lifts it up again, and drops it, but commands “Hold” in a voice that it not River’s. And the man’s hand stops mid-drop and freezes in place. Next to them, on a velvet cushion, sits a large gluing blue gemstone, with a flaw inside that seems to be moving.

Camille watches all of this from about three feet away, but neither River nor the strange human seem to notice her. And with sudden lucidity, Camille realizes that they cannot see her, that this is some sort of dream, and that River is not in front of her, but Grieg, in River’s form, and that River is the small moving black fleck in the gem.

The statue of Riverdane begins to speak.

“Soon, Servitor.” he says softly, and reaches out to the mans temples and places one cold gray stone fingertip to either side. With a press of his fingers, the man’s scalp suddenly smoothly tips up, revealing a black emptiness inside. Camille fights the urge to scream.

“Good for you, Master.” the passive mutilated human, Servitor, says emotionlessly.

“The engine is almost done. When it is finished, we will adjust your fittings for output and then you shall carry the power source.”

“You are brilliant, Master.” Servitor says. Grieg/Riverdane lifts the blue gem from its velvet mount and places it gently within the brain cavity of Servitor. It fits snugly inside. A satisfied nod from Grieg, and the gem is once more taken out and put on its soft cushion.

“Fits perfectly.” Grieg comments. “Two more weeks, and my vengeance shall be complete.”

“Perfect.” Servitor repeats, though whether agreeing with the gems fit in his own skull, or commenting on Grieg’s timeframe Camille cannot guess.

“Yes, you are, aren’t you.” Grieg says, not even looking at Servitor, but rather off in another world, with a bemused smile on his face. “Of course you are…I made you that way.” And then with a casual movement, Grieg closes up the man’s scalp with an audible click. The man does not move.

And then suddenly, the scene fades away, and the only thing Camille can see are two large black pupilless eyes.

~~your sleep is not a natural sleep, so rather than dreams, I show you the truth~that was no vision, mithaniel’s handmaiden~you have two weeks~~

Camille wants to say something, but finds she has no voice, and realizes her head hurts, very much.

~~no questions now~~ Terris’s voice rings in her head.

~~WAKE~~
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[Riverdane]

Camille’s eyes opened slowly, as pain rand in her head. She had no idea how long she was unconscious, but one thing other than the screaming ache in her head registered immediately.

She was no longer cold.

He body was warm from some source of heat. The flickering shadows in front of her eyes suggested torchlight, or a large bonfire.

The second thing she registered was that she was tied to some sort of table, legs spread, arms above her head. She could barely turn her head, and the few stray locks of golden hair that lay across her face were dyed copper red. The blood from her head wound, she thought sluggishly. She was still in her armor, but not for long. She could feel the cold blade of steel sliding under her leather straps of her leggings and sawing through.

“Stop.” she said numbly.

The dark face of a snow orc appeared in her field of vision. He seemed larger than others of his race. His lips twisted into a cruel smile.

“She wake.” he said in gutteral common.

“Free me.” she said, “Or Tundra Jack and the Barbarians of the Norse will lay this camp to waste.”

The orc laughed loudly. “Maybe, human, maybe not.” he chuckled. “They not find Redwind yet, they no find Redwind tonight.”

“You are Redwind?” she asked, as the pain in her skull fought her for consciousness.

“Yes.” he said, going back to sawing at her leggings.

“What are your intentions?” she asked, wincing as the knife cut her leg in his carelessness.

“Pleasure and pain.” he replied, not turning back to her. “My pleasure, your pain.”

Wonderful, she thought. I’m about to get raped by an snow orc.

Escape would prove to be useless; her feet and arms were bound to not even allow slack for comfort. She felt one of the plate pieces that cover her left leg slip off, and closed her eyes. Maybe if she did not react at all, he would grow frustrated or bored, maybe…

“Nice job tracking, woodelf.” a strong female voice suddenly cut across the air. Camille heard the plate legging drop, as if Redwind was caught by surprise. Then a grumbling of orcish voices from behind her, as his men gathered at his back.

“Who you?” Redwind called.

“Another girl.” the woman called. “Wouldn’t want Camille to be the only lady at the party.”

“Not smart girl to come alone.” Redwind sneered.

“Aye, only a dumb girl would come alone.” the woman agreed. “Which is why I brought friends. Come on out, people.”

And then the murmur of voices, from the direction of the woman.

“KILL THEM!” Redwind screamed, but there was something in his voice….fear?

And then the sound of battle. The zing of arrows, the clash of steel, the hum and screech of magic. Redwind suddenly fell across her body, clutching at her face, an arrow neatly through his throat. Blood splattered her as the cries of the orcs rose, and then suddenly…..silence.

“Get her free.” the woman called, but someone was already sawing through the ropes that held her hands. The face of the person freeing her suddenly appeared in view.

“Milady?” the handsome highelf said, finally finishing cutting her bonds.

Camille blinked.

“Nizzre?” she asked.

The white haired paladin smiled at her, as she turned her head to her saviors. There was Kaguera beaming at her, her fiancé Coldhand at her side. There stood Malkar the wizard, flanked by the two halflings Barnabe and Annir. Zullie the iksar stood wrapped in two furs, looking for all the world like she was miserably freezing to death in the warm heat of the bonfire. Bwael was retrieving his arrows from the bodies of fallen orcs, being assisted by a human woman Camille did not recognize. And Grelin just stood quietly, as always, watching her from afar, an odd smile on his lips.

“And now,” Nizzre said, helping her down from the stone altar that she had narrowly escaped being raped upon, “Will you please tell us why Grelin dragged the old officership of Razor’s Edge to the middle of a blizzard?”
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[Riverdane]

(Bumping, so old readers and new can refresh...it's time to take up the pen again)
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[Riverdane]

"You are as bad as River." Nizzre said, searching Camille's face for some hint of humor. But Camille was not smiling.

Nizzre still had no idea why they had been summoned by Grelin. Camille had hugged him fiercely after her rescue, getting him a raised eyebrow from the brunette female who helped Bwael collect his arrows. The woman was introduced to her as Aaraeby, Nizzre's human wife, whom Camille had never met. Camille briefly embraced her other friends, and planted a huge kiss on Grelin's cheek, making the pale blonde man blush as red as the torch Malkar brandished. And then they hurried back, following Grelin, to the barbarian village, for more hugs and greetigns as Talvarien and Brieah were reunited with their old guildmates. Wine and ale poured, and Camille and Nizzre found a spot away from the crowd to talk.

And Camille told him everything.

"You're not kidding." Nizzre concluded, eyes moving around the room, at the mostly inebiated and reeling barbarians. "Cami, you are talking about a dragon..."

"I know." she replied quietly.

"We have plenty of tanks..." Nizzre continued. "But Vox is not a grizzly bear or an orc. And we have good damage output with the rogues and beastlords, but...it's short range. Bwael could do more damage with one arm than all of Talv's trainees firing at once. Malkar's 20th level nukes are more dangerous than anything these shaman can put out, and they are going to be busy enough attempting to keep a heal chain on the poor idiot that ends up main tanking the Lady."

"I know." Camille repeated.

"Old Razor officership lacked clerics and chanters. We'll have no heavy mana regeneration, no buffs like virtue to protect the melees. Most we can do is give them upgraded shaman buffs, some paladin buffs, ranger attack buffs and some druid mana regeneration..."

"I know." Camille said again.

"Camille, I understand what is at stake here, but, we can't pull this off. Not even River would try this..."

"Yes he would." Camille said quietly, looking him in both eyes.

Nizzre paused, then sighed audibly. "Aye, you're right. River WOULD try this. But River was crazy..."

A smile crept across Camille's face.

"...and I was crazy for following him." Nizzre continued, "So that makes me crazy in general. Ok, Camille. Let's tell the others. If we could start a guild with only a druid, a shadowknight, a ranger and two paladins, we can turn a tribe of mid-level barbarians into an effective dragon raid."

"Thank you." Camille said.

"Don't thank me yet." Nizzre said, a pained look on his face. "We still have a lot of work to do."

And with that, he turned towards his old guildmates, and called them round.
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