a touch much

Moonhawk paced the small confines of her prison. Nothing more than a small pit lined with steel. She hoped the message she’d sent had gotten through, but she wasn’t about to rely on it.

Sweat poured down from her forehead, her throat was raw with thirst, even her abilities as a cleric of Mavour didn’t ease all her discomfort.

She considered trying another spell, though the one for water had ended abysmally. Whether it was her lack of ability, the lack of water in this desolate area or someone blocking her she didn’t know, nor much care. If it was the latter she’d ensure they regretted that choice, anything else was beyond her control, therefore not relevant.

Instinctively she called on her sword, hawkblade. It arrived with ease, rejuvenating her a little.

“Are you ready to confess your sins?”

“I confess, I’ve not sinned enough, jump down and let me demonstrate.” She replied barely recognizing her voice.

“I have water.”

“If you want a medal, again hop on in..” Moon offered even as she sought out the speaker. She located the source, using the same psionic gifts she tried to pull it to her, the holder held tight, she changed tactic and went for them both.

The man went for his sword as she leaned over and took the water. Moon looked at him, daring him to do it, bringing hawkblade up to his throat.

“Leave or die.” It was a command and voice she knew. Moonhawk sighed in relief, wondering if she’d been too long in the sun, even as she formulated an excuse for being captured

“You had enough of sunbathing? There is a war on you know?” Ginfla called down, tossing her a rope and trying to ignore the burns he saw covering her body.

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