[ IP ] Un Immortalis

“ Sometimes things just don ’ t go my way ” thought the Ranger. “ Six days to get over the pass, bear tries to eat my leg while I ’ m asleep and tears my favorite cloak, *of course* there had to be a fade on the other the side. ” It was a typical mirage, man-like form with bony protusions, although this one did have horns. Fades weren ’ t necessarily of this world, they were here but couldn ’ t really get themselves together: the power of Elid held them from coalescing. But the fades gauntlets could tear a man ’ s soul and corrupt him, which allowed evil a more tangible foothold in our world. He would not become a Fadeling, a creature controlled by this evil apparition. 
 
 Dwarven cross bows were a work of non-magical genius, in essence the antithesis of magical forces. Not differentiating between light or dark, these creations were so solidly of this realm that they devolved and voided the purchase of any magical entity, sending it back to the other side. They were good at regular old killing as well, which is why they were the choice of rangers. He kept one bow, the one is his off hand, loaded with a hard steel bolt. The bolt in the bow of his sword hand was meridium, dwarven iron, and engraved with anti-ward Tath rune. 
 
 The fade began its monologue, in the hissing whisper crafted to drive fear through the hearts of men. It entreated him to bow before it, to accept it as his master. The ranger was tired, and had a long way left to travel before the soft beds of the Red Pony. As the fade began its display of crackling lightning, he lifted the un-runed bow and fired at the fade ’ s chest: the lightning arced down, creating a web across the apparitions chest, and the bolt flew away, deflected as if it bounced off a wall. The rasping hiss turned to a dark chuckle, but before the creature could continue the ranger lifted his second bow, and fired directly into the shadowed mask of the fade. Lightning arced again, but the bolt was unaffected, and streaked through where the face should have been, leaving a trail of smoke out the back of the fade ’ s hood. The lightning stopped, the fade crumbled into a pile of ash, leaving only the gauntlets behind.Stripped of evil by the dwarven bolt, these would easily pay for his room, and possibly a new cloak in Kingshall. Weary, but glad for the extra money now strapped to his back, the ranger continued down the Traveler ’ s road. Mythical or not, all things have a weakness, and the dwarven bolts know them. “ I think that merits a drink, maybe even spirits. Ha, ‘ spirits ’. ” This day was not a total loss. 

