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*Stop and looks at Ark and looks at him innocently hearing his outward thought.*

Sir, I never claimed to be a Witch-Hunter, Mage Hunter or whatever people trained like I am are to be called now. My Grandmother had an actual title like that.

Sure I have been trained in the art, I am not going to stand here and say that I haven't been, but as Uncle Mohdri has explained to me very patientely and through my own experiences that magic does not work like it once did, so I'm still trying to figure out what of the old codes applies to the way things are now. Like for starters, I can enchant my own blade and make it do damage of a magical nature instead of just cut into something like the blade normally would.

What I'll be good at is taking down I guess the elves when they come here since they are more in tune with that magiks I guess *shrugs* heck I don't know yet.

I don't care that this Vaun calls herself a Witch Queen. As long as her main purpose is to help in the survial of you all and not harm innocent people then she won't have a problem with me.

*She bows to Ark and then with a playful, almost child-like grin hits Atrum with a snowball after being hit a few times when she is trying to leave by the children whom she was entertaining earlier with Esmerelda.*

But right now, if you'll please excuse me good Sir I need to get to the lesson. I want to be ready for any problems in the future and be able to hold my own out there in battle.

Esmerelda races to Atrum's side, aiming a well timed snowball at Sethreal's face in passing him.

"We've dropped the leader! Victory for all!" Dropping to her knees beside him, she lets out a mock cry of horror.

"We've been deceived! This was no enemy, but our sweet prince! And now we've slain him in our folly. Whatever shall we do?" Smiling playfully at Aturm she flicks snow at his face.

**Slowly clenches his outstretched hand into a fist, and drops it to his side, turns, and limps through the crowd back to the bell tower, climbes to the top, and resumes his watch over the town**

Ark seems out of place as snowballs and kids raced around his still form, he looks up the tower at Ren watching everyone. "Thats all any of you can do, not me, waiting isn't my game, I have things to do." Ark begins walking in the direction of the keep, longsword on his shoulder

*Sethreal wipes snow form his face and looks confused. A small smile apperas on his lips and he joins in the fun.*

Lying in wait, the creature had bided its time, eyes narrowed and ears flat from the profusion of cutting words and harsh voices. The anger and verbal violence both fueled its own instinct to attack with angst-ridden fury and strengthened the need to stay hidden, out of sight. Practically buried in a snow drift, it was the only place it could blend so easily. How long it had crept furtively near and amongst the settlement was not known, merely wishing to avoid contact until the last possible moment.

And now, the laughing, shrieking creatures were all distracted.

Perfect.

With a loud roar, the creature exploded out of the snow, sending small white, wet missiles spraying everywhere and charging into Esmerelda's army.

"BEWARE! The abominable snow beast has come!" cries the white-haired youth, grabbing up one startled child and promptly receiving a face full of snow. Munching on the icy crystals in exaggerated contentment, the sage gently but grandly "slams" the squealing child into a snow drift. Tickling the "victim" without mercy, the youth lets out another roar.

"None can take me!!" The seer's stance is stoic and almost blissful as the air fills with snowballs that pelt the grey-clad form.

*Aurora turns around with cat-like reflexes when she hears the commotion and then proceeds to laugh out loud watching the children playfully laugh and squeal with glee at the new people joining in on their snowball fight. The young woman then turn back around and continues towards where in lesson is going to take place.*

Turning to hear the sound of laughter she turned and hid amongst the land, blending in as she went along her way. She watched as the new arrivers laugh and throw snowballs. Seeing as she was not one to miss out on fun she threw a missle at the back of the Aurora's head (which missed) and disguised herself back against the land.

Her laughter filled the air as she sent another snowball towards the one called Esmerelda, the white-haired youth and the child. *Snowballs hit there targets dead on*

With that she disappeared into the landscape once more, happy and joyful, thinking to herself how wonderful it was to have new friends to play with.

Abaddon walked into the keep and approached the door leading up to the Bell tower. It had a thick black door made of a strange metal that showed no reflection. Stonger than steel, this door took an exeptionally long time to knock down or pick.

He took out a long metal key, one of two. He inserted the key into the door and it clicked with a cold and satisfying noise. Abaddon grasped the handles, pulling back as hard as he could and the door swung free.

Inside there was a tiny, cramped stairwell that twisted up and away. Abaddon closed the door behind him, locking it again with the same methodical action. Then he went up to the bell tower.

The bell was magnificent. Newly re-forged several months ago, it was mounted to the iron cross beams of the bell tower. It radiated magic so thick that Abaddon could practically taste it in the air. This bell, was the only weapon against Corbyn. It stood between HIM and the people that were filling this little outpost. It had worked once against the Betrayer. It would work again.

Abaddon had long known that the Elves were the Ancient Enemy. They had raped the Valkyn'vi, set them to a life of servitude. It was only justice that they come together now against the abomination that was the elven nation.

Abaddon pulled the thick leather strap and the bell rang once. It's thunderous echo ripped through the outpost, vibrated the keep. It was the toll of freedom. Of HOPE.

And with That, the Painted man went back down the stairs.

She glanced at the bell tower as she pulled herself up into the trees, hid herself and watched the new comers come and go as they pleased.

She had heard rumors through Caledonia that a group of settlers were making there home close by. The survivor's of Haven... she had head of them even here. The betrayal of the one called Corbyn. The journey they had made. Anyone who came this far to start a-new was well worth her time.

The young seer turns sharply towards the tower; for a moment the beauty of the sound ringing from it is entrancing. Then as it fades, the inner doubts twist the echoes into a judgement toll in the youth's mind. There is a nervous glance around, as though searching for someone. Clearly relieved they are not there, the young seer quickly leaves the snowgame, striding off into obscurity again.

How dare I play after what I did to her...

She watched as the youth walked away. When she was absolutely certain there was no one around she jumped down, her cloak dancing around her, as she landed. The jewels around her forehead sparkled in the sunlight. Pleased that she had remained out of sight, she turned and walked in the direction of the youth, watching as the young one walked into the new Inn. Clearly content... she smiled once more and threw back her hood as she walked away.

*In the distance a lone figure dressed in flowing black that billows in the stark contrast of the snowy remains comes. He comes from the Gates to Caldonia proper walking in a manor the says he hates the snow. The way it mushes and slides beneath his feet. He steps however indicate that he expects the ground to know its place. Beneath him. When he gets to a point half way between the Walls of the Caldonian Gate, and the source of of the commotions he raises one arm and holds it high*

*it could be mistaken as a wave*

*with a swift downward stroke of his arm the spring and thump of catapults can be heard. Simultaineously five large groups of projectiles soar over the wall.*

*The man continues to walk casually into the camp as the projectiles return to earth. The drumroll of 1,000's of snowballs striking the ground, and even a ping of of the bell sounds as the man steps within speaking distance.*

*grinning like a Cheshire cat the man pushes back his hood revealing a long black braid, woven with Dwarven stones. He looks at the faces of those around, some not happy to see him*

"What? *pointing at Eilonwy* Only the snowchild may plot ambushes?"

*the sly grin never seems to fade*