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The gray robed stranger took off after his elven partner while the cave was roaring with high pitched mayhem. Balamor watched the torchlight fade off to his left. The figures of small batlike beings poured from the walls with tar dripping from their bodies. Their screaming escalated as they smashed into each other in a disorganized attempt to form together. Moving in hive-like patterns their twisted frames winged into position and formed the silhouette of a man.

Balamor reached into his bag and felt for his runes, rummaging through all but one, a square stone with a triangle of three points sunken into its surface. He had no plan nor the time to make one. He needed to wake Awkid, they needed to do something. He reached for the dwarf beside him and began to shake his left arm. More of the creatures were screeching and running through the tunnels madly, Balamor started to panic. He pushed against Awkid’s chest and clutched onto the rune in his left hand. The dwarf would not wake, Balamor looked down at the remains of the cursed arm and placed his hand over it. He knew didn’t know magic, but it didn’t phase him. He closed his eyes and focused, everything seemed to disappear. The words of Nim were caught in his mind, words he didn’t understand.

“...Ehn Vis Payr”

Balamor’s eyes exploded open, pale green light shined from them. Snapping to focus he could see from someone's perspective, a green cloak billowing against heavy gusts of rain. They were running from someone. The terrain was mountainous, deep valleys disturbed by small rocks tumbling as they traveled a narrow road. Lightning flashed, and he felt something grip his right hand. His vision returned to see a tall man wearing long black robes reaching his hand toward him, his face was hidden but a deep voice commanded him.

“Balamor, give me the scrolls! We have not time!”

Balamor found himself lying in the dunes of gray ash whipping in the winds of a ferocious storm. Streaks of fire trailed humongous stones through the air accompanying the sounds of devastating battle. Balamor was frozen and his hands were trembling as the world around him quickly faded to darkness. The slight glints of Awkids eyes greeted him and the young Wisebeard dropped the rune from his hand. Suddenly he screamed but the large hand of the dwarf muffled the sound. Moments passed with Balamor’s heart beating intensely. He couldn’t trust his eyes until Awkid spoke,

“Where have you brought me Hobbit?” His strict voice faltering with a grimace of pain. Balamor was laying back against the cold stone floor as he looked to his left and right frantically.

The End

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