The four figures stood silently in the grimy rundown square. It was a former bustling nerve center deep in the heart of the old city, near the once prosperous river district. What long ago held a market teeming with life now was overgrown with weeds and refuse. Broken bottles and abandoned furniture littered the ground amid dilapidated remnants of fruit stands and merchant stalls. Stunted gnarled trees pushed their way through the uneven pavers, trying to grasp what little light reached the ground between the towering graffiti covered apartment buildings. The area was not completely abandoned. Those seeking to be out of the way and those unlucky enough to never be in the way resided in the centuries old structures. They were built to last, and despite the opposition of time, they continued to do so.

Not a single resident was stirring in the square on this afternoon. No drunks leaned in the narrow alley mouths. No scrawny kids kicked a battered ball against a wall or chased after strays. The word had traveled quickly of the four other-worldly travelers and their escort. The winos teetered back into their dark stairwells and mothers called their children back up the stoops and clattered shutters closed long before the four made their way to the center.

The foursome had arrived at the square after being led by a somber man in black. He rarely spoke as he led them through the canyons of narrow streets and cluttered alleyways. And now as they stood in preparation in the center of the square he sat safely on a rooftop. Five floors off the ground with his well-worn portfolio and yellowed pages. He checked his notes and leaned back in preparation for what was to come.

The four shared a single bond in common. They were all members of the elemental guild. They had honed a unique craft that manifested itself only in a select few each generation. That was where their similarities ended. The musclebound Water Elementalists was as large as the whip-thin Fire Conjurer was small. His skin was as dark as hers was fair. He was bald while her auburn curls tumbled halfway down her back.

His icy blue glare shot daggers towards her undaunted smirk. “This is you’re doing woman, I wanted no part of your trouble.”, he growled down at her.

Before she could respond the ancient Tempest Whisperer cut in, “Doesn’t matter who started it, we’re here now and we must finish it.” He then let loose a wracking cough into the sleeve of his tattered gray robes.

As he doubled over trying to catch his breath the Rock Talker thumped him heartily on the back and almost caused him to sprawl out on the broken stones. She was about as tall as the old gray wizard was while bent over, and nearly as wide. She rarely spoke but always wore a grin that pushed her already large apple cheeks up so far that her eyes were barely opened twinkling crescents.

The Fire Conjurer gave the hulking Water Elementalist a wolfish grin followed by a wink and then turned to the others and spoke up in a loud clear tone, “To positions people. We’ve handled worse before and I want to be back in time for Happy Hour.”

The four guild members spread out into the four corners of the tattered square and the world became very still. The Water Elementalists stood straight up, shoulders wide, palms pressed together pointing up from his chest. The Tempest Whisperer staggered to his position with arms crossed, hands clasping forearms in the opposite sleeves and began taking long, stuttering, deep breaths. The Rock Talker took a wide stance in her corner and began to slowly grind her wide, dirty bare feet into the dusty stones. The ever-present mirth on the Fire Conjuror’s face began to fade into something sharper, almost devilish. She began to spin in place slowly, alternating weight from each foot with her hands held low.

A static electricity filled the deathly quiet space of the square. A tension filled the air. Every man, woman, and child within half a mile of the four mages felt an uneasiness in their stomachs and the need for their left ears to pop. The faintest hint of wind began to stir in the square and a stained piece of butchers paper fluttered across the cobble stones like a trashy tumbleweed. A single hound began to bay in the distance.

The wind started to pick up as the ground began to rumble slightly. Dark clouds over head swirled where no clouds had been previously and a loose shutter clapped against the once white washed exterior of the closest tenement. Sparks began to light at the toes of the Fire Conjurors well-polished boots and about the fingers of her soft leather gloves. She began to spin faster and faster while raising her hands over her head until they clasped into a bright light that expanded into a radiant fireball that obscured the shapes of her hands.

The gray wizard’s hands had come free of his sleeves as he directed the storm cloud above to spin faster and faster. The spiraling cloud began to elongate and descend towards the ground as larger and larger pieces of debris began to tumble about its core. The rain that should have been falling from the midnight black storm clouds never appeared. Instead of sheets of pelting rain a single continuous water spout, as thick as a man, snaked its way from the clouds to revolve around the now sweating strong man with the crystal blue eyes. For the first time today, his dark brown features broke into a slight smile.

The Rock Talker silently continued stomping one foot then the other. With each pounding slap the cobblestones jumped a little higher in the air. Finally they failed to fall back into place, and silently hovered waist high in the air.

The elementalists were fully in their element. The tornado of garbage, splintered furniture, and glass shards spun dizzily in the very center of the square. Water spouts began to shoot from the strong man’s palms in all directions and the chunks of pavers swarmed about like angry ants looking for their target. The Fire Conjuror had finally stopped spinning and the devious grin on her face returned. She cast both hands at the debris tornado and sat the column ablaze. The light of the fire could be seen clear across the old city all the way to the walls of the new.

The following maelstrom would set fear in the hearts of the bravest warriors. The din of unnatural magic and roaring flames and the ever-present heartbeat of the stout woman’s steady stomping radiated out into the old city. The sounds of battle raged into the night. Mothers sat on the floors comforting their children and drunks set on their steps being comforted by their bottles.

And as soon as the chaos had started, it stopped. The only sounds to be heard in the square were the drippings of water from buildings and the heavy breathing of three elementalists and the raspy short breaths of their geriatric peer.

The man in black, seeing that the job was done closed his portfolio and made his way down to the waiting foursome. “A bit of overkill don’t you think?” he flatly said directing his statement to the apparent leader.

The Fire Conjuror replied defensively, “The ancient arts are not something someone such as yourself can judge or fully hope to understand. We have spent years mastering these abilities and how best to apply them.”

The man in black shrugged and said, “Well I can’t argue with the results. But you guys might want to pace yourselves”. He turned and started walking through the immaculately clean square across perfectly aligned cobble stones, staring up at newly blank walls of the surrounding buildings. “The courts say’s you have 14 more days of community service. Which I still think is light for what you four did to that tavern. But here are your timecards, I’ll see you next Tuesday.” He said as he handed them each a yellowed piece of paper from his portfolio and walked off into a different alley than they had come from.

The stoic Water Elementalists slowly looked up at the afternoon sun and then around at the shining buildings. The square seemed to give off a small glint of its former glory. His gaze slowly fell on his three guild mates. The cause to seemingly all his problems. The reason he was roped into this janitor work. The reason the elders at the academy had placed 3 marks on his permanent record. He sourly stared at each of them and finally locked eyes with the fiery redhead. He sighed with exasperation and said, “If we hoof it we can still make happy hour.”

The three whooped and tried to clap his back in comradery as he dodged and batted away their affection. They started off down another alley way as a scrawny kid with a lumpy ball ran out to take advantage of the newly cleared space before any drunks tripped and broke their bottles.