Prologue: Troubles at Red Larch.

"Take THIS!" Midnight conjures up another bubble of acid and flings it as hard as she can at the new bandit.

Falka's eyes fix unblinkingly on the bandit who stands at the southern corridor. For a moment that feels like forever, she simply stares. Every little feature, every imperfection, everything just angers her more, and she twitches as if struck over and over by jolts of electricity. All she hears is the pounding of heart, the rush of blood. Her trembling hands look as if they might snap the haft of her glaive in two.

An orb of green pounds into the brigand. From a lump of sizzling flesh, a trickle of blood wends its way to the floor. The drip, dripping of the scarlet flow assail's Falka's every sense like an earworm.
Like a tidal wave if fury, she crashes over the stone wall, wailing like a man on a pyre. Her glaive thrusts from her body as if shot from a bow, the shaking tension in all her muscles releasing frenzied force into her weapon.

The party hears the low booming voice of Grum echo throughout the northern corridor.

"C'mon then bounty hunters. Come get your prize."

He emerges once more from the corridor and heaves another javelin straight for Vardo.

Vardo, normally keenly alert, is distracted by the sheer savagery of Falka's raging attack and is caught off guard. The sheer force of the javelin's throw knocks him back a few steps as he is impaled almost half way up the javelin's length. The damage is severe.

A wicked smile grows on Grum's face. "Pathetic!" And as if teasing the party in a game of tag, disappears again into the corridor.

Yohna curses as she sees Vardo struck, another devastating wound. Can they really chance moving up the corridor? It's clearly a trap. Perhaps they can catch the leader the next time he tries this little game he's playing. She moves up to cover, ducking behind the wall beside Keavan. "If he tries that again, we can't let him escape. Hopefully we can get the drop on him, if we're careful..." In saying so, she casts a spell of guidance on him.

Clearly flustered by the pace of attacks, the cleric grimaces and adds. "I'll follow your judgement on this one, but whatever you do, I'll have your back."

"Enough!" Keavan yells.
"Stand and face me if you dare."
Keavan vaults the low wall and advances up the tunnel, muttering to Vardo as he passes.
"Stay behind me but stay close."

Vardo hits the ground flat on his back and takes moment to understand what exactly happened. The ferocity of the attack and the power of the impact disorient him. The searing pain in his side drag him forcibly back to the reality of his predicament.

He grimaces as he snaps the javelin in two so that he can stand and move about without hitting any protruding section. The half still in him causing him continued pain, but he struggles to his feet as he hears Keavan asking for back up. Forcing the pain into the background he readies his bow and follows Keavan down the corridor alert to any danger and aware that another hit could be the last thing he registers in this life.

With a hiss, Breezy's eyes flare once again as the elemental energy erupts within him. With a flourish of his arm, he throws a ball of icy-blue energy directly at Vardo. The mass strikes his comrade, and coldness envelops around his wound encasing it in a sheet of ice. It lasts but a moment, when the ice cracks and falls away, revealing a partially-healed wound.

Spinning back to face his attacker, his visage a mask of terrible beauty, Breezy smiles at the reaction of the bandit who was just blasted by the cold energy released by his Armor of Agathys. With his hand outstretched, Breezy makes a grasping and pulling motion as he rips more of the lifeforce from the same bandit.

"Lord of ice and air, feast upon the life of my enemy!"