"Just a little more magic and some steel is all we need"
Had death always been this easy? Had this not been a fun hobby so many months and years before?
Best not think about that now, their footsteps are getting close.
And yet, Aramil was reminded of a time when skulking in the shadows and running on rooftops was sport, how he and his young friends in his shining city chaffed under the strict, stoic rule of the Eladrin Council and made a game of causing mischief, including certain instances of breaking and entering. All was grand until that fateful day, when he found a peculiar rounded jewel in a locked box that should not have been opened. With the aid of this orb, his magic skills had increased manyfold, and he was more and more a danger to the city.
Banishment wasn’t so bad, he mused. After all, humans were far more prone to panic when hit with magic.
Below him came a carriage, pulled by two horses and guarded by half a dozen guardsmen. Drawing on his orb’s magic power, Aramil concentrated on the center of the group. Suddenly, an explosion tore through the guards. Some feel, others ran to calm the horses. Aramil jumped from his shadowy perch, sneaking up and dispatching each guard with spell or blade. By the time more guards arrived, Aramil was well outside the city gate, rubbing the newfound coin in between his fingers.