No more words were necessary to urge the hunter to action. His hand rose quickly, briefly cupping Elariel's cheek and pressing his forehead to hers, in love, in gratitude. He then ushered her quickly into the sturdy silo and closed the only door behind her. His Fel eyes then fell upon the materializing mages. Intense shades of green flooded his field of vision, signifying the great power of these long-lived blood elves. There were three of them, lean, tall, and statuesque. Tae'lo'ren respected them, understanding that their level of power and ability was of bardic legend. For a hunter, this fight would end quickly and effortlessly on their part, but Tae'lo'ren was no longer just a hunter, he was now a demon hunter, their posture, their power, their spells all revealed by those corrupted Fel eyes of his.<br/><br/>All four elves stood, facing each other, sizing up one another. Tae'lo'ren's twin longswords, imbued with magic resistance, were in his hands in a moment, yet the mages remained unmoved. Most craftsmen and fellow hunters believed him foolish for imbuing a weapon with magic resistance and not his armor, but the idea was to allow his blades to cut through magical effects, being that, as an elf, he could move much faster than most any other being. Tae'lo'ren gazed upon his adversaries, yearning to reason, seeing no point in ending such ancient lives; the benefit of Fel vision was stripping the personable attributes from and individual. “I'm sorry,” Tae'lo'ren whispered, lunging toward the center of the three mages.<br/><br/>While the hunter predicted that the mages would rely on a hold spell, his eyes allowed him to see it being cast. There was a brief flicker of energy on the hand of the mage to the far left, then directly in front of Tae'lo'ren a massive disc of energy flickered before becoming solid. Agile elven feet danced nimbly away from the disc and continued at blinding speed toward the mages. Intense, steadily pulsating energy built up on the extended palm of the central mage, which would indicate a beam of some kind since it wasn't centered around the mage's fingers. Tae'lo'ren raced fiercely as he felt the ground explode behind him, directly behind his heels as he continued his direction for the left mage. Feeling the energy beam catching up to him he had no choice but to reveal the enchantment of his sword, slicing into the ground directly behind his foot in a reverse grip, slicing the ground and disrupting the path of the energy beam.<br/><br/>All three mages seemed to pause a moment at the revelation, then all simultaneously began to cast again. The far right mage seemed to be engaging a slower spell, likely involving protection, being that he wasn't as focused on the hunter as the other two. The middle mage appeared to be engaging an area spell, being that his view of Tae'lo'ren was obstructed by the left mage, who was engaging in another quick-cast, energy flickering on each finger. Projectiles. Tae'lo'ren allowed himself a brief smile, for not only were his twin longswords resistant to magic, but were custom-crafted; the cross-guards were unusually wide and dense with centered-slots measuring the width of the base of the tip, allowing them to lock together. He did so now, his Fel vision tracking the projectile's trajectory, lifting his sword-shield to once more disrupt the magical energy. Surprise crossed the left mage's eyes briefly as he attempted to move, exactly what the hunter wanted.<br/><br/>Causing chaos among the mages was exactly what Tae'lo'ren desired, and he wanted the left mage to believe that he was the hunter's target, when it was really the central mage, who was almost finished with his spell, as was the right mage. Tae'lo'ren deliberately dodged away from the left mage, behind him, leaving a clear strike path for the central mage. The right mage's spell had finished, appearing to be some sort of group protection. The hunter's blade, however, was already piercing the central mage's chest, driving through his internal organs. Tae'lo'ren used his momentum to turn the body, obstructing the attack path of the left mage, leaving the right exposed. Twisting his wrist drew his sword free of the central mage, allowing him to thrust the other toward the right mage, causing him to begin a quick cast, which would target the hunter's location, not the hunter himself.<br/><br/>It was a feign, though, as the hunter dropped down, sliding on one knee, performing a pirouette, using his bent knee to launch him into a vicious spin behind the right mage, driving his recently-freed sword into the right mage's back and out through his chest. The far left mage ignited with magical energy, nearly blinding the hunter, a series of beams assaulting the body of his companion and the hunter. Tae'lo'ren would be dead had the right mage not previously cast his protection spell, for while his blades could pierce and block magic, they did not actually disperse the magical energy, leaving it intact. The hunter still flew back ten feet, his body coursing with agonizing magical energy, as though acid was pumping through his veins instead of blood. Thankfully, the Fel energy coursing through his blood was stronger and neutralized the effect, fast enough to give him control of his legs again, which launched him in some direction away from where he was just as it exploded.<br/><br/>Turning his blades to the reverse-grip, the hunter charged the mage. It may not have been the wisest tactic, but Tae'lo'ren held no advantage now, having enraged this last mage by slaying his companions. The hunter charged with reverse-grip once more, but this time, and hopefully the mage hadn't noticed, he was holding the swords to be thrown, with the grip resting between his fingers and the blade resting along the back length of his arm. Quick cast. Quick cast. Several of the projectiles the hunter dodged thanks to his Fel vision, a few hit their mark and staggered the hunter, jolts of nearly-immobilizing pain surging through the hunter's body. He stopped at about ten feet from the mage, dropping to one knee. In his mind, he was hoping that the mage would allow his pride to reveal itself. It did. Not in gloating, not in some smug smile, but in a slower spell cast. Tae'lo'ren wouldn't get another chance. He pivoted his kneeling foot and launched himself at the mage, not to fly toward him, but to use the momentum from his legs to launch his sword, rotating his shoulder and releasing it like a spear. That beautiful blade sang shrilly for several seconds, then stopped abruptly with a sickening 'thunk' as it sank halfway into the mage's chest, launching him seven feet back to crash into the floor.<br/><br/>Tae'lo'ren was already running after the soaring body, reaching it seconds after it crashed. He looked down at the dead mage only for a moment, then jerked his sword free, rushing back toward the silo. He stopped just outside, braced himself against the wall, then vomited violently, vile, thick fluid spewing from his mouth. It tasted like putrid Fel energy. The mage had attempted to corrupt him. Tae'lo'ren felt dizzy and nauseous, several parts of his body, specifically his abdomen, racked with painful spasms. He sheathed his blades after wiping them on his own pants, struggling to undo the latch on the silo door. He stumbled inside, closing the door and leaning heavily upon it, breathing hoarsely. “Please tell me...you're ready.”<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>