Syntorri bolted recklessly through the dense forest at break-neck speed; catching glimpses of the massive grey furred beasts between the trees that whirled passed as they charge ahead on either side, knowing that they would converge to cut off her escape, all the while hearing the snickering yelps of their masters as they pursued her from behind, sensing Nykademous’ fear as she poked her head out of the pack slung on her mistress’s back. A half dozen gnolls would’ve been bad enough to deal with without the pair of dire wolves, but together they were likely more than she could handle alone. Seeing the monstrous wolves arch toward each other, she pulled up short, focused her mind and began a short incantation in Aragrakh, old high wyrm, a dead language used only by arcane spell-casters. Stretching her hand outward as she finished the spell, a small ball of shimmering light shot forth, then exploded in a burst of electricity between the wolves as they rushed toward her. The forest echoed with the crackle of thunder, the air filling with the stench of burnt fur and flesh, while the howls of pain fell silent with a dead thud as Syn turned to face the wolves’ masters with deadly determination burning in her deep emerald eyes. The hyena-like humanoids’ snickering fell silent as they stopped short at the sight of the smoldered bodies beyond her, but then they howled for blood and charged forward behind battered shields with their battle axes brandished. She downed the first beast to reach her with deadly grace as she began the lethal ballet of bladesong; the time honored elven martial art that combined sword-craft and spellcasting in an elegant dance which her father had proudly taught her when she had earned the right. Then she unleashed a small barrage of magic missiles in rapid-fire succession downing a second. But while she fended off three others with a sharp arch of her long sword, the final gnoll rushed her from behind, baring her to the ground with such force that it drove the breath out of her, leaving her stunned for an instant, knocked the moonblade from her grasp and catapulting Nykademous from her pack; sending the feline scattering for cover behind a tree. Nearly retching on the putrid breath spewing from the beast’s mussel as it snarled and snapped at her face from mere inches away, Syn twisted and thrashed her lithesome body in a desperate bid for freedom as it clumsily grappled with her. At well over seven feet, it weighted nearly three times what she did, but entangled with its own shield and worn, ill-fitting scale male, the gnoll struggled to keep her pinned to the ground, while the remaining three stalked forward to surround them. Unable to focus her mind enough to harness the complex formulas of the spells that burned in her memory, she franticly reached for her moonblade while trying to hold its beastly jaws at bay. Then suddenly one of the gnolls moving to surround them howled in surprise and pain as it flung backward to land ten feet away in a crumpled dead heap; leaving the others in stunned shock. Both looking from the fallen gnoll to the source of the sudden attack, a dark hooded archer, Syn took advantage of her foe’s distraction and slow wits, lunging across the ground to grasp the hilt of her sword and, in the instant it took for the beast to look back, willed forth a blinding flash from its everbright blade; which caused the gnoll to instinctively rear up on its knees, away from the bust of dazzling light, and try to shield its eyes with its hands, allowing her to nimbly flip heels-over-head back to her feet and then spin in a deadly pirouette that brought her blade across the stunned creature’s throat.