[introduction] Jean-Claude

Slowly, the small caravan crawled along the mountain pass in the woods: two chariots, six mules, two herders and a load of goods. The company was protected by six horsemen in the front and four horsemen in the back, though every driver and herder had a minimum of arms. The night guards rested in one chariot, the other chariot had a special guest...

Remy, lead the caravan moving to the front and back to issue orders as they went. Remy did not trust his special guest, keeping a sharp eye on the second chariot. There was power in this man that could not be seen. He was sure of it. The man wore plain clothes and seemed deprived of the physical strength through age but he kept a determined look and did not seem the least impressed when the guards were demonstrating their weaponskills before the trip. Remy had asked this demonstration, trying to bargain a higher price considering the safety.

A bird sang an odd and very loud tune in the distance. Remy looked up in panic and immediately shouted to increase the pace. He issued orders to the rear guard and woke up the night guards in the second chariot. With a loud crash a tree fell down in front of the caravan, blocking the road. The company was brought to a halt. From the high side of the mountain, a loud noise of shouting men and the unsheating of swords could be heard. The herders took their short swords in panic and with trembling hands they faced the danger.

Remy spurred his horse to the other chariot and lifted the sail, to find the old man staring back at him in surprise.
"We'll soon be under attack, mr Hedgewizzard. If there is any power in you, I think it is time to come forth."
The old but tall man stood up with some vigor, bending his back as not to hit his head on the top frame of his kart. He looked down at Remy.
"My name, master Remy, is Jean-Claude d'Armagnac and I am not a hedge wizzard. But how did you guess my magic abilities?"
Remy forces a wry smile.
"I sipped your beer yesterday. Chilled beer is a rare luxury when traveling in the mountains, master wizzard."
"Nor am I a master wizzard... but that debate will have to wait."

Jean-Claude stepped out and inspected the situation. Armed men came running out of the trees, yelling a loud warcry. They were poorly armored, but that did not make their swords less deadly. Remy's sword sent a high ringing sound in the air as it was unsheated.
"Wait", shouted Jean-Claude, "cover the low side! They might send rogues to sneak among our troops. Send the herders to hew the tree. I'll cover this side."
Remy nodded and spurred his horse forward, gesturing orders. One of the rear guards came running to Jean-Claude, sword ready for the fight.

Jean-Claude closed his eyes and extended an arm. A flame burst on the ground and fast as lightning it spread accross the ground, following the side of the road. He lifted his hand the flames rose in the air for twenty feet high and roared like thunder. The horses neighed in fear and the drivers had their hands busy keeping them under the control. Soldiers who stood close to the edge of the road sprang back in surprise and fear.
Jean-Claude put his other hand on his neck and with an unnaturally loud voice he threatened the attackers,
"Your souls will burn for all eternity if you step through!". He released his neck and turned to the fear stricken soldiers from the other chariot,
"Quickly move to the front and assist freeing our way. It never takes long before they realise it's an illusion."
"Illusion?" a soldier stammered and with wide open eyes they ran of to the front. In the front the clanging of swords could be heard but with only a small front to attack and six well armed horsemen holding that front, they wouldn't be able to overwhelm the caravan.

Jean-Claude peered at the burning wall. "There's always a first one", he thought, as his brow started to sweat.
"Your pathetic tricks will not stop me sorcerer!", a loud voice boomed accross the fire.
"Here he comes.." thought Jean-Claude.
Suddenly a huge man jumped through, unscathed by the flames. He had pitch black long hair bound to tail. He had a big metal ring in this nose and a very wicked grin as he saw the wizzard. In the blink of an eye, Jean-Claude waved his free hand and a fire blasted in front of the man, knocking his burning body back through the flames. He could be heard screaming accross the flame wall and loud curses responded from the attackers, locked out from their pray by the flame wall. Jean-Claude's brow started to sweat more heavily and he gasped for breath. The flame wall started to flicker briefly.
"Not as strong as I used to be" he thought to himself, gasping for breath.
With great resolve he blew in the direction of the wall, an unnaturally strong wind rising, thick with the stench of burned flesh and hair amongst towards the attackers. He fell on his knees, gasping for breath and again the flame wall began to lower a bit. Putting his hand on his neck again he shouted,
"You shall pay dearly for every step you take." Shouts, curses and taunts responded but nobody stepped through the flames. How long it would hold them off, he could not tell. He wasn't recuperating. The illusion was sapping his strength as he kept breathing deeply from exhaustion.

A loud horn was heard in the distance. The noise at the front stopped and Remy came running back on his horse. "They called off the attack. You scared them off." Barely a breath left in his lungs Jean-Claude replied "Good, now help me get up and back in the chariot. I have no strength left and their fear will soon end if they see me like this." Remy frowned, but jumped down his horse and helped the old man get in the chariot. A few minutes later, the trained herders had chopped through the tree and push away the trunk with the aid the horses. Slowly the caravan started moving and Jean-Claude finally let go of the illusion. His vision was darkening and he felt close to passing out. As the chariots passed the hewn tree he saw a corpse laying on the ground, a guard sword sticking from its chest. Jean-Claude looked at the hewn tree trunk and body. So close had they been to a vicious death... These attackers had not expected such a strong resistance and fled. But it was little comfort. "Such a narrow escape. I must regain my strength... " Jean-Claude muttered and he passed out.