Inside he’s tent, Malag-Tog (the rainbow mage) peeped through a small hidden hole within its side. He knew that sooner or later his little escapade upon the island would be noticed sooner or later. He had felt another magicians magic sniffing around him, sensing the cold and evil nature of his plans. Once discovered he thought that the word of the killers whereabouts would spread around the village like wild-fire, and was indeed surprised it had taken this long for him to receive company.
The men outside however did not look like weak minded villages that could be easily tricked and confused by his magic. Still he knew one or two spells that would see this squad of mercenaries slaughtered by his many loyal Quibs; what with there number being so few the quibs could their number to gang-up and surround them, slaughtering them easily. Although without his magic he guessed the Quibs would stand far less of a chance, these men looking like experienced well trained fighters.
Beside him the huge Delvock snorted, no doubt it too wanted to go outside and rip into these men with its full mite. But the delvock made an excellent bodyguard and just in case one of these men did overcome his magic and got to close to him, then and only then would the Delvock get its chance to spill some blood.
Malag-Tog settled himself down crossed legged on the ground. He began to breathe deeply as he prepared his mind for a mass fear spell that would reduce the group of men outside to shaking wreaks. There weapons would be useless, even keeping hold of a weapon once the fear spell was cast was difficult. Never mind wielding one.
Suddenly he felt another mind blocking him. The same mind that he had sensed sniff him out…..Another magician.
He gave a curse as a rage swept through him as he realized that his new improved powers were being blocked. The rage registered across his face as he realized that he would have to form a new plan and use weaker magic even though his powers where much greater.
The fact was there now was a risk, and the realization that he was up against a foe that would be no easy pickings made him tell the Delvock and the Quibs through a mental mind message spell to prepare to charge the men when he gave the word.
Looking out of the hole he spied a warrior type of a kind familiar to him. He wore no armor and carried deadly darts tipped with poison. He prepared another spell, one which the other interfering wizard would not be able to block.
Again he began chanting arcane words of power and pictured the Gell warrior in his minds eye. Then he drew from his belt which fastened together his robe a fine gold hilted dagger. He began to make a sawing movement with the dagger through the air until he heard the ripping sound he had been waiting for. The dagger had made a cut into thin air and opening the cut up Malag-Tog looked at the side of the Gell warrior.
The group waited silently, listening to any noise that may come from within the tent when suddenly one of the men screamed in pain and all looked round to see Abe who had fallen to the ground, a fresh wound in his side bleeding heavily.
"A hand, a man's hand came out of fresh air and did it" screamed a clearly terrified Stan who had been waiting behind Abe.
As the men went over to Abe's aid they made the mistake of turning their backs on the large tent. Hideous gurgling screams sounded and as they turned around a dozen Quibs exploded from out of the holes in the ground and ran towards them. Mulk was the only one who had stayed fully alert and fired his crossbow at the nearest Quib. The bolt caught the creature in the chest and sent it hurtling backwards leaving an ark of green blood in it's decent. The others carried on, ignoring the death that had just been dealt out to one of there number.
All the men were ready however to meet the assault as the Quibs came at them wielding there spiked clubs. Even Abe had got to his feet trying to fight off the burning pain in his side as he prepared himself for the on-coming battle.
Then came the clash as the mercenaries many varied weapons met the Quibs spiked wooden clubs. The men were clearly outnumbered and all but Haurick fought against two opponents.
Calin dodged a sweeping blow from a club aimed at the left side of his head while he counter-attacked the other Quib. His sword swept at the Quib on his right which blocked the blow as it stepped backwards. He fought in this way, using his shield mainly to block the blows of the Quib on his left and relaying on his agility and sometimes armor to stop the other Quib. After several minutes of battling in this manner and suspecting the Quibs were waiting for him to tire, one of them made a mistake and Calin seized his opportunity. The Quib on his left came to close to him and thrusting at the one on his right so it moved backwards away from his blade, he kicked the one to his left in the leg, his steel two-capped boot bringing a squeal of pain as it cracked against it's shin-bone. Then he slammed his shield as hard as he could into the things ugly face. It gave a sick cry as the shield busted its sensitive nose, sending it crashing to the ground. Immediately he attacked the other Quib, in a one on one situation the Quib was no match as his sword flashed back and fourth sending shards of woods spinning through the air from its club. Then he broke through its defense and slashed it hard across the stomach, splitting it open and spreading green blood and guts all over the ground. Calin felt a pain strike him across his left shoulder. The Quib who's nose he had busted now attacked him from behind and had whacked him with it's club, fortunately his chainmail armor and a bad strike from the Quib only managed to cause for the spikes to dig in half an inch into his flesh. Still it hurt and he turned around sharply to meet it.
"You backstabbing son of a sod. I'll cut you in half and piss on your insides for that", he shouted as the sharp stabs of pain caused a maddened battle rage to well up within him.