Subject: Who would have won?

Rennik lunges forward, using the side of his axe to force Garyth to change position, trying to tangle up the taller man's feet, then deliver the knockout blow when the quick guardsman can't dodge. But long weeks of almost constant fighting have made the young man far more canny, and he slips backward out of range while still keeping his feet under him. Rennik winds up for a quick shot to the thigh to slow him down, when a strange wind blows through the clearing in front of Gully's trading post. The grass and brush around the two fighters are blown flat, and their hair is whipped around their heads. The guardsman Robert shouts, "What the hell is that?"

Garyth turns to look in the direction his man is pointing and sees a vague white shape, like a small cloud, descending rapidly toward them. In an instant, his grip on his weapons shifts. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rennik move to his side, axe gripped tightly. How like a family we are now. We fight among ourselves a bit, but in an instant we have each other's backs. He sees the two wizards plunge their hands into the pockets of their robes. Whatever new devilry this cloud represented, the group looked ready for it.

When the cloud reaches the ground, it begins to shimmer and shift, gradually taking on more and more opacity. After a few seconds, it becomes clear that it is man shaped. A few seconds after that, Farron and Sa'id shout and run toward it. Farron says, "Sunmaster! We had begun to think something terrible might have happened to you! We are so glad to see you."

Where the glowing white cloud had been, there is now just a very old man, standing unsteadily and leaning heavily on a large oak staff. Sa'id quickly moves to his side, putting one of the old man's arms across his shoulder. "Let me help you, Master Fellus."

Subject: Re: Who would have won?

OOC: All sorts of happiness now.

Mark

Subject: Re: Who would have won?

:cough cough: cop out :cough cough:

Subject: Re: Who would have won?

Osred wheels at the touch of the unnatural wind, the contest he'd been so immersed in a moment ago forgotten. Reflexes honed by decades of practice and nearly a hundred battles carry his body into a fighting stance, longsword held at the ready, even as his mind works at the puzzle of what this strange cloud could be. It doesn't look menacing, but he has no doubt that the demon can be cunning when it suits its purpose.

As the cloud coalesces into the form of a stooped old man, Osred sliently rebukes himself for not having prayed that morning for the ability to see into the hearts of men. One spell could have silenced or confirmed his doubt. As it is he will have to watch and judge for himself whether the man before them is truly the Sunmaster.

He lowers his sword as he strides toward the old man, but does not sheath it.

[OOC: When the Sunmaster begins speaking, Osred will be attempting to sense motive]