It was a near perfect plan thought Tracker. The Mercenaries or 'murderers' known as the Elf Reavers must have been studying his movements for days. Their positioning was flawless. They were all out of range for any of his special abilities when the murmurings of the last syllable of a silence spell were spoken. They had caught him at a most inopportune moment. Two seconds earlier he was almost finished casting the dispell magics needed to open this warded door. Now they had him surrounded. All brandishing the most deadly artifacts in all the realms. He knew each blade by name. Every elf did. There was Faye Bane, Witch Cleaver, Devil’s Tail, and Venom Tongue. Behind him was an ancient elvish door that has left many a thief cleaved, scorched , and dead from wrath of its mystical protection. Without the ability to speak the magical words that would summon his spells to his aid the youngest son of house Vramyrr was truly trapped between a rock and a hard place. But there was one thing not many new about Tracker. One thing he kept secret for times like these. Once long ago the goddess of magic kissed him and bestowed upon him a powerful gift as chaotic as himself. None here knew of this or expected it. Their astonishment was clearly shown when Tracker summoned up the power that needs no magical words. Every sword, knife, spear, hammer, axe, whip, and arrow more than five feet from Tracker was now replaced with the prettiest bouquet of sapphire daisies and sunshine pansies anyone had ever seen. Tracker spun around in an elvish fighting crouch willing one of the Longteeth of Vramyyr to its long blade form and leaving the other in its dagger form so that he could activate its teleportation magic. Someone was going to die.