[Magus]

“That does it god damnit!”

The archer, who was lining up his next shot, was hurled against the wall by a couple of Magic Missles, causing several deep cracks in the oak.

The archer grabbed his side and dropped his bow. Then, glaring at the little halfling, he drew a longsword. “You should have stayed out of this, runt.” He charged forward, as flames shot forth from the halfling’s fingers. He pressed onward, screaming as the flames engulfed him, and slashed for the meddler’s pudgy head. Yllidan threw himself to the ground, feeling the blade graze his shoulder as he dived. As he struggled to his feet he heard a thud, and he looked down to see the archer had fallen, his body charred and smoldering. He glanced at his shoulder. It was bleeding.
* * * * *

Rojin came crashing through the door, and almost stumbled over one half of the rogue and grimaced. He strode over to one of the patrons, unsure who's party to side with, he suddenly realized the religious signs of Mask on one of the cloaked figures as he passed by. He struck him on the head, unbalancing the cloaked figure and clearly disrupting the spell, then he knocked him over forcefully, the body thudding to the floor. He was about to subdue him with a sound blow to the head, but the man chanted a few words and disappeared, and his blow hit empty air. A floor board creaked beside him and he lashed out, again with no result. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, and before he could even react a terrible pain shot into him, making the arm go limp. He whirled around and smashed the now visible cleric in the face with his elbow. The dark figure fell in a heap to the floor, his face noticeably rearranged.

* * * * *

The half-elf stepped back as the great sword came sweeping across. Then he slipped behind the blade and sliced out, drawing blood. The burly man stumbled back, as if taken by surprise. For an instant, the half-elf stood there, wondering why this was happening. He just wanted to be left alone. What he was doing fighting this pointless battle? Then suddenly the muscled fighter charged forward with a roar of rage. The half-elf’s blade shot out reflexively to deflect the blow, but the massive sword batted it away like a toy, descending to part the half-elf’s head from his shoulders.

As the sword cut towards him, the flash of incoming magic missiles caught his eye from the side. With inhuman agility he tucked his head down and threw himself forward and to the other side, the great sword slicing stray hairs from his head as it passed. He heard the thud of magic missiles striking flesh, and he leapt to his feet to meet the fighter’s next blow, two round concussion marks blasted into the man’s back.

* * * * *

Farul had seen enough. That half-elf had cut down Erik before the poor bastard knew what hit him, and it looked like that fool Garth was soon to follow. Hells, the freak had managed to evade magic missiles! And now two random strangers were waylaying Jerard and Ramon. Screw it...no amount of money was worth losing your life.

He chanted a spell and abruptly disappeared.