Duendewood Resistance: A Proper Dance

The night was still beneath the trees, the darkness broken only by the light of a single campfire, the silence broken only by the soft chatter of voices, the crackle of the flames, and the soft calls of the nightbirds. Sherra sat by her friends on a small, collapsible stool, sipping from an elegantly-carved wooden mug and laughing softly. Much as she enjoyed performing in the towns, it was good to get back out where it was just the four of them. Well, five: Evrimon had finally acquired either a companion animal or a wife, and none of them were entirely sure which. 

Moonshadow was currently dozing beside the fire, dagger-like fangs visible and whiskers twitching. A short coat of grayish fur covered her muscular frame, and a flash of claws was briefly visible as she flexed one paw in her sleep. Most of the time she was like this, all fur and claws and apparently completely feral. 

And then, every once in a while, the saber-tooth tiger would be gone and there'd be an elvish woman tangled up in Evrimon's blankets. Sam and Sherra had been inclined to dismiss it as being solely Evrimon's concern, but Leander The Elf could never leave something that interesting alone. He was the one who asked Evrimon if Moonshadow was a fellow elf druid who just preferred to spend her time in animal form, or whether she was some sort of smilodon druid who sometimes chose to assume human form. 

Evrimon had just shrugged and said, "I'm not actually sure. I just know she wants to be with me."

Leander had opened his mouth to ask another question, then closed it again, and finally allowed that if that was good enough for Evrimon, it was good enough for him. So, one way or another, it was the five of them now. 

Well, the five of them and Darvinin, who had vanished into the night before they'd even made camp. The gods alone knew how he managed it; likely not even the gods themselves knew why. 

"Enemies of the King," pronounced a voice in the darkness beyond the fire, and they all froze. A moment later, their small clearing was flooded with light: three separate light spells, affixed to the trees around them in a rough triangle, banishing all but the faintest of shadows. Damn it, thought Sherra. Still, now she could see their captors: eight of them, in a careful ring around the camp, doubtless sent by the King in the North or one of his subordinates to capture them before they could spread the goat-fucking song any further. 

"Sherralitha Goldsong," the voice continued inexorably. It belonged to a True Elf, one wearing black robes marked with the sigil of Appollyon. "Saminansa Eldrish. Evrimon Broadleaf. Leander the Elf. You are all under arrest. Throw down your weapons and come with us."

Sherra stood up a little too quickly, upsetting her stool and putting a foot behind it to try to catch it. "Are you sure you wouldn't care to join us?" she asked, striving to keep her voice even despite the quiver of her nerves. "The evening is chill, and the spiced cider is very nice."

Beside her, Sam stood and drew her sword in a single, smooth motion. Leander gaped, and Evrimon remained frozen. 

"Your courage does you credit," said the priest. Empty words, Sherra thought, waiting for the next-- "but you are outmatched and outnumbered. Surrender now." 

He wasn't the only one wearing the robes of Appollyon; two of the others were as well. Of the remaining five, three were heavily armored -- two humans and an orc, she thought -- another human wore a red robe trimmed in gold, and one more True Elf stood ready in light armor, holding rapier in one hand and a dagger in the other. 

Sherra sighed, then carefully set the mug down on the ground beside her. "As you wish," she said, shoving her leg carefully into the tiny corner of shadow that she'd formed with her fallen stool. "Catch me if you can." She pushed herself down through the shadow and out into the darkness. Tight. She thought she'd have hurt herself, or failed completely, if the opening had been any smaller. 

The priest was still screeching in outrage when the first wave of arrows slammed into the red-robed human, staggering him. Sam crossed the clearing and casually removed his head, dodging past one of the human warriors to do it. Paladins, fighters, barbarians... she wasn't sure, and maybe it didn't matter. 

Then Darvinin was suddenly there, and the one with the rapier and dagger went down as the double-bladed scimitar cut into his back. Moonshadow came up from beside the fire as if she'd never been asleep at all, and sank her fangs into one of the priests of Apollyon; the woman disappeared under her shadowy bulk, screaming in pain and terror. The other one was mouthing the words to some sort of spell, but Leander came up with a pair of daggers and put them both in his torso, just below his ribs; he staggered, and the spell bled away. 

The first priest of Appolyon spun, looking for Sherra, just in time to find her standing in front of him as she drove a pair of daggers into his ribs. She stepped back into the darkness and disappeared. He didn't go down, though; instead, he gasped out a spell and let the daggers fall free. 

Evrimon rose and transformed as well, matching the shape of his... companion. He fell on the priest that Leander had stabbed, dragging him down; Leander leaned in and put a blade through his throat, finishing him. 

Sam had engaged two of the warriors. She hadn't taken either of them out, but she'd cut them both and neither of them had yet managed to touch her; what she couldn't dodge seemed to glance off her scales. Darvinin froze one of them in place with a word and a gesture as another wave of arrows slammed into the priest who seemed to be in charge; he grunted with the impact, despite his armor. 

The last of the warriors moved to protect the priest; he too bore the sigil of Appollyon, and was probably some sort of paladin. Sherra considered, then called for her shadow. 

It rose up beside the priest and touched him; he screamed as his strength fled, and Sherra stepped out of hiding and stabbed him again. The paladin cut at her and drew blood, but it was nothing she couldn't deal with. Still, two of them at once... 

Sam finished the fighter she'd been engaged with as Leander slipped in and finished the one that Darvinin had bound. Moonshadow was still casually ripping her victim apart, but Evrimon growled loudly and moved in, flanking the paladin that was worrying Sherra. He cut at Sherra, wounding her again, then turned to attack Evrimon but missed. 

Gleaming golden arrows struck the priest of Appolyon, once and then again. Sherra stabbed him once more, placing her blade for maximum effect... he went down. Then Sam was there, that massive sword of hers cutting through the paladin. 

The battle was over. A half-dozen archers emerged from the trees, looking expectantly at Darvinin. 

"Clean it up," he said, and they stepped forward and began shifting the corpses into a pile. 

"Wait," said Leander. "Can't we...?"

"Check them for coin," Darvinin told him, expression serious. "Anything else, anything they fought with or wore or that might be associated with them, leave it. They have to disappear, and that means that all of them and everything they possess have to be disintegrated."

Leander nodded slowly, brightening as he considered the idea. "Give me two minutes," he said.