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As the last enemy is cut down Lifnetheril spots Ceseula amidst the sand and quickly realizes the danger. His eyes begin glowing a deep purple as magic crackles around him. "Rise Cesula! Escape from danger!" The magic that backs his words causes a hint of an echo that occurs a split seconds after each sound.
Lifnetheril is buffeted by the sandstorm and struggles to maintain his breath. As he holds his breath, he reaches out an open hand and clenches it. In the air in front of him, some of the sand is clumped and then compressed together. He then shouts "Ject!" As the compressed clump of sand bullets toward the creature, Lifnetheril steps out of the storm and breathes normally.
Lifnetheril sighs and gestures toward the trio of hermits. "G'Mba," he says, his words seeming to have some power infused within, "go ahead." (Amped) Message:
Your message is not so easily bound by obstacles. The spell can travel up to 120 feet to reach the target, bending around walls and obstacles; this means you don't need a straight line of effect or line of sight to cast message as long as you know the target's space and there is an unblocked path of 120 feet or less that can reach them. It also gains the following amp.
Amp Your telepathic message allows you to coordinate your actions while you pass on information. The target of the message can immediately spend its reaction to Step or Stride.
He then walks toward the trio. As he gets closer he stares down the one on the far side . "If you do not run away now, your life is forfeit," he says coldly.
Lifnetheril looks to Wormcaller with a intrigued raised eyebrow. "The sun orchid elixir you say? Now there is a real sport! The multitude of precautions they take to protect the transportation of those makes it simply tantalizing!" he says with obvious enthusiasm and then looks around quickly and adds, "Or so I hear. Not that I would take part."
Lifnetheril calmly begins strolling to the northest after a short moment of thought. "I remember my last visit to the Flowing market. There were many more daggers pointed at me the last time." Once in the market proper, he again reaches into his memories. "Zarta is looking for..," he starts before trailing off. ...Would be over this way I think."
The middle-aged looking elf casually strolls down the gang plank with the air of one who is returning to a familiar place. He is bedecked in some fine leathers. Though fine, the leathers are far from austentatious. He, strangely, has no weapons or even sheathes upon his person. He deftly picks the message from the imp's claws, opens it, and begins reading it aloud. His voice, as he speaks, is smooth and calm. "Well," he starts with an amused smile after the recitation, "It would appear that we have a task before us that will truly test our mettle." |
