Editing Ivas, the Unwilling (section)

==The Weight of Truth==
Ivas' thin robes were ash within moments.  He ignored the alternately blistering arcane fire and freezing mountain-top cold that seared his flesh.  He did not know the name of the eladrin warmage he fought, but the Weaver's directive coiled around his mind, goading him on despite his foe's protests that this was a mistake, that she was guilty of no crimes against the gods or anyone else.  He would fight or he would fall; reason had no bearing here.

Finally driven to her knees by a blow from his sword, the wizard locked eyes with her executioner, fear and fury mingled in her gaze.

"Your Mistress is crazed.  She will drag you to hell with her, drow."

Though a great power in their own right, true words spoken cannot turn aside a blade already in motion.  When the eladrin lay dead, Ivas felt the cold again, his bare form shivering.  The only clothing on the mountain to protect him from the driving winds and building snow was the leather armor encasing the corpse at his feet. 

As he struggled down the mountain, Ivas shrugged uncomfortably at the armor on his shoulders, trying not think of what was to come.  (Feytouched Drowmesh +3)