It all began so simply, a single strum of metal strings. A desire to weave and warp esoteric energies into a coherent form, an illusion unlike any other created by bardic magic. An illusion formed of sight and sound, touch and scent, combining various disciplines into a unified whole. For a brief moment, an image coalesced in the air, a stunning elven beauty the Bard once glimpsed in an artist's collection. In that moment, he recalled the caption beneath the image.

That's when it all went to crap.

The caption stated of an old legend, A vision to lure travelers off the beaten path, to their inevitable doom. He focused his thoughts, but couldn't shake the memory, and his eyes went wide as he watched the illusion shift against his will. And that's when the shrieking began...

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Poquito seemed rather distressed. The door to the Bard's bedroom hadn't opened in a few days. No sound escaped the warding, and his collection of food pellets was running a little low. So, there was only one thing he could think of to do. He had to get help.

Angel was stepping from the shower after another long day of classes and training. She hadn't seen Esteban in sometime, but that was becoming a trend with all the work they have been buried in. Still she missed him.

The bird waddled up to the bathroom door and squawked plaintively. Angel came out of the bathroom and looked wide-eyed at Poquito. She coo'd softly, picking up the familiar.

He's a friendly little cuss, at least to people that he knows, and he knew her quite well. He nuzzled and coo'ed back, then looked in the general direction of the Bard's door.

Angel understood well, Poquito came to her when the Bard got really engrossed in his studies, which seemed to be the case yet again. She set the bird on her shoulder. She had just finished getting dressed and moved to the door. She rapped on the door to get his attention. Obviously, the warding receieved and upgrade in the past couple of days, as no sound came from the knocking. She wondered, just what was he doing in there? She frowned as she couldn't shadowstep past the ward. But then she knew how to fight dirty too. "Esteban Velasquez. You've got exactly 5 minutes to open this door, or you are cut off for the next month."

Whatever this was, it wasn't normal. The warding almost felt... cold. Angel frowned, knowing that that should have gotten his attention. The wards should be keyed to her, she tried to unlock them. She was getting worried now. Esteban had given her one last-resort key just in the unlikely case of emergencies, a six-note whistled tune. But it would break the ward completely, and even the Bard didn't know what that would do to things. Still that didn't allay the feeling of dread.

Angel didn't like the feeling she was getting. She whistled the tune softly, prepared to layer up her own wards if need be to keep things from going south completely. The warding shattered, like sheets of glass, and an eerie shriek sounded out from behind the door, warbled out over the sounds of strummed guitar notes.

She moved into the room and set a ward in the place of the one just shattered. She looked around, looking for Esteban, now very worried. And there the bard was, kneeling on the floor, guitar in hand, staring at the ceiling. Whirling around him, just outside of his personal shields, swirled the apparition of a banshee. Flakes of dried blood still stained his ears, the tendons of his neck standing out from the strains upon him. Apparently, his idea of an ascension-level bardic illusion went a little too far.

There was a guttural growl from the half-demoness as she looked over the scene. He hands seeming to claw as her eyes shifted to that feline cast. A claw extended to point at the apparition. "Begone, he is mine." She was not a happy kitty to say the least.

Esteban's fingers twitched, sending another round of notes into the air. The illusion recoiled, then let out another piercing shriek. The Bard flinched, as a fresh trickle of blood seeped from his ears.

"Esteban... Release the illusion, Amante." Angel moved to where he could see. She could not get close enough, "Please Esteban... come back to me." His personal shields seemed capable of keeping the illusion at bay, but not enough to keep all the sound of the shrieks out. She murmured softly a spell and dropped a globe of silence around the Banshee. "Esteban!"

A weak groan slipped from his lips, and he twitched. She moved closer to him and the shielding, "Esteban, Amante. Come back to me, please." Finally, the guitar slipped from his fingers, and the struggling illusion vanished. He swayed on his knees for a moment, then collapsed.

She was down on her knees fast to catch him. She looked over his form and wanted to cry, "(vq) Esteban, please..." Another groan, and his eyelids fluttered. Two, possibly three days of constant playing, putting his energies into the illusion left him dangerously weak. She ran her fingers along his face and drew him to her quarters at her mother's house through the shadows. ~Damien, I need Crystal.~ She was very frightened now.

He looked shrunken, almost. The strings on his guitar quivered a moment, then fell silent as he slipped into unconsciousness. She had the strength to lift him into the bed as her red-headed twins escorted a silver haired woman... no elf into the room. The elf moved into Angel's place and immediately went to work on healing him and restoring his energy with a soft song.

It would take quite some time, before he had the energy to respond. Angel stood by, watching worried. Crystal wavered a bit, before ending the healing song. The elfess gave the bard a critical look that would have withered a tree. "That was the most foolhardy thing I have seen in a long time, young man."

With an effort, he nodded. "The... the illusion got... it got away from me."

"It was ambitious, too ambitious. You have the talent, you just need the patience for when you know more." The tone was kind, "You scared your lady and your familiar." All he could do was nod, before letting his eyes drift shut again.

Crystal sighed and looked to Angel, "He is to rest a few days. Here is preferable." She moved from the room then and Damien had since disappeared. Angel moved over to the bed, "Esteban."

"Nnng... si, amante?"

She settled next to him, soothing the hair from his face, "Why?"

"Didn't... want to be stuck... at a novice... forever." He shook his head weakly, and sighed. "I guess... I guess I just got too... ambitious for... my own good."

"You would not be stuck as a novice, love." She sighed softly and leaned over to kiss his forehead.

One more sigh, as Esteban settled in on the bed. It was time for him to get his sleep. Angel curled next to him, to rest.

Thanks to Angel's Player for the assist!