Thirty-first day of the month of Marpenoth, also called the Day of the Dead. Forty-three lost souls running down a pitch black road in the dead of night, feeling the chill of the air, competing against the heat of the coming battle. We ran, all along screaming war cries at our unseen enemies. I raised my sentient Shamishir style scimitar, pointed my Musame long sword straight ahead, and started running down the road alongside my fellow elves, while screaming "Carpe Noctem!" I then hear my lieutenant, Nicalen, running along side me, with his two enchanted, dragon-hilted broadswords whirring and screaming obscenities.
We struck our Drow attackers hard enough to cut down two dozen with just our initial charge, while only losing six or seven of our own. I paused to examine the enemy, to survey the chore at hand. The Drow force consisted of about fifty warriors, ten clerics and seven mages, and Drow are extremely skilled at their professions. I noticed the Drow were falling all around us, but so were our own forces. I felt the heat of the spells both our mages and theirs threw back and forth.
As I felt my blade slip through the ribs of my enemy, I turned to the next nearest free Drow, but stalled in hopes of catching my breath.
"Prayne de crabug ahm rinedere be-yogt iglo kes gron" I called teasingly.
"Damare ketsu" he yelled back.
"Oobie doobie ex flagulatem"I replied, not missing a beat.
His face contorted in rage, "vith tir" he snarled, and charged-right on to the edge of my sentient sword, who, having been created to destroy evil entities, glowed brightly, -and telepathically begged for more. I watched the life fade from my opponents eyes, and barely heard his final curse, as he slipped from the edge of my weapon.
I turned to face my next attacker, and realized that their were barely any enemies left to fight, so I slumped back in silent resignation of our victory. I nodded and smiled as Nicalen sank down in exhaustion next to me.
"I killed two mages, three clerics, and thirteen warriors" he said
"Three mages, four clerics and sixteen warriors" I grinned back.
"I'll beat you next time" he said, feining annoyance
I suddenly felt a chill, as if I questioned if there would be a next time.
"We shall see" I said grimly.
He looked at curiously, questioning my meaning, but seeing I wasn't going to respond, he slumped back and rested.
You must understand a few things. Nicalen and I are the heads of the elven branch of a covert resistance movement, determined to destroy the Drow army, under the command of Matron Immuriel, who is attempting to form an above ground colony in hopes of one day conquering the entire surface world (Drow live in the underground world called the Underdark). Nicalen and I, being elves as we were, and Drow being our mortal enemies, readily took up the task of their destruction. We were soon joined by a rank of dwarves, whose mines were in danger of being raided, and though I personally don't have any kind of liking of dwarves, we weren't about to turn away any help, especially since half of them were clerics, and we desperately needed their healing spells.
Then came our backbone. Unannounced and uninvited, but hardly unwanted, thirty mages showed up at our door, coming from the Hosttower of the Arcane, who supposedly wanted to supervise and aid our mission, although i'm sure they, like most humans, hoped for some form of power or influence to come to them.
Now that you understand, we return to the battlefield. Our clerics go around, healing our wounded, and a task force going around, beheading the Drow bodies, just for assurance that they were all dead. We only keep one or two prisoners from each battle, as Drow are too dangerous to take chances with.
Then we fall back and begin planning our next attack, and continue to push the Drow back to the bleak, dark holes from which they emerged.
It is the fourth day of Nightal. My advisors and I sat in a strategist room, planning our next attack. We had expected a retalliation, but had not heard much from the Drow in the last month. Then our intelligence came through with reports of a large-scale operation our enemies planned on using in hopes of eliminating us altogether. But we wouldn't go down without a fight.
I do make light of the task, but deep down, I fear we may be in over our heads, our forces still recovering from the last battle. So turn my attention to the meeting, just as Onyx Castlemeir, the dwarven general stands up and speaks.
"I still feel we would do better to attack underground."
"What kind of an idiot are you!?" I screamed at him, finally losing control. "The Drow live underground! They would then have every possible advantage!"
"We wouldn't be in the tunnels, we could collapse the tunnels on top of them, crippling them at worst.
"Because none of my elves are going to go running around in some dwarf-made hole in the ground, and risk far to many casulties!" I growled, thoroughly annoyed at the idea, even though it was a reasonable idea.
My paladine advisor, Sir William of Martin, the only human present, other than our mage leader, tried his best to calm me, but the dwarf hefted his battle ax and sneered, which annoyed me more. I then turned to Nicalen and created our own more private meeting.
The following morning, the morning of our attack, I sat, very nervous as I sharpened my Musame long sword and talked to my sentient sword about the coming battle.
"Nervous, are you?" the weapon asked.
"Of course not" I lied.
"I have telepathy, you stupid elf."
"Shut up, sword" I replied hastily.
Then Sir William entered the room and announced the time of our march drew near, and then stoically as always, turned and walked silently away.
After a days march, we arrived at the Drow complex, about an hour before dawn. After convicing myself they were not suspicious of an attack, I had our mages cast various protection spells on us, and we began to climb the wall. Once my own group reached the ground on the other side, we, meaning Nicalen, Sir William, two mages, and seven Dwarven clerics, made our way to the main complex, which was the mouth of a cave which led back to the Underdark.
I held Faer Daphen, my talking sword out, as it conjured a magical light to guide us.
Eventually, we found our way to the main audience hall, and prepared for the coming battle. As we called out our various war-cries, Sir William smashed in the door, and we charged in... to an empty room. I paused for a moment to admire the beauty of the Drow handiwork that filled the room.
Then I heard a noise that chilled my bones-- laughter. I turned slowly to see Matron Immuriel sitting on her chair looking at us amusingly. We had been set up. She made a signal, and thirty Drow dropped down from the ceiling. In just that initial attack, they slew a mage, and five dwarves. I charged, blocking a blow directed at my head, made a feint to the left, swung right at the last and beheaded my opponent. I swung again, and just by pure luck, disemboweled another potential enemy. I saw a pile of enemies around Nicalen, and Sir William, with his Holy Avenger two-handed sword, cut down three Drow in one swing. I could feel the heat of spells, both arcane and clerical, being thrown back and forth. We battled on, but for every Drow that was slaughtered, two more replaced it.
Only me, Nicalen, and sir William were alive, but I then saw the Paladin go down, a sword in his chest and a dagger in his skull. I realized just then that we were fighting a hopeless battle.
Then my very heart was racked with horror as I saw Nicalen, my best lieutenant and closest friend, fell. I was fighting alone for my life, even though I knew it was a worthless effort. It didn't take long before I felt the sting of a blade slipping through my ribs, and reach for my heart. I looked down at the blood, my blood gushing out of my chest and through my fingers.
I turned to the matron and cried through the pain "Dos orn neitar g'jahall udossa", Drow for "you will never defeat us."
I then sank back, felt the Drow begin hacking and mutilating my body. Then I was engulfed in darkness and knew no more....
We struck our Drow attackers hard enough to cut down two dozen with just our initial charge, while only losing six or seven of our own. I paused to examine the enemy, to survey the chore at hand. The Drow force consisted of about fifty warriors, ten clerics and seven mages, and Drow are extremely skilled at their professions. I noticed the Drow were falling all around us, but so were our own forces. I felt the heat of the spells both our mages and theirs threw back and forth.
As I felt my blade slip through the ribs of my enemy, I turned to the next nearest free Drow, but stalled in hopes of catching my breath.
"Prayne de crabug ahm rinedere be-yogt iglo kes gron" I called teasingly.
"Damare ketsu" he yelled back.
"Oobie doobie ex flagulatem"I replied, not missing a beat.
His face contorted in rage, "vith tir" he snarled, and charged-right on to the edge of my sentient sword, who, having been created to destroy evil entities, glowed brightly, -and telepathically begged for more. I watched the life fade from my opponents eyes, and barely heard his final curse, as he slipped from the edge of my weapon.
I turned to face my next attacker, and realized that their were barely any enemies left to fight, so I slumped back in silent resignation of our victory. I nodded and smiled as Nicalen sank down in exhaustion next to me.
"I killed two mages, three clerics, and thirteen warriors" he said
"Three mages, four clerics and sixteen warriors" I grinned back.
"I'll beat you next time" he said, feining annoyance
I suddenly felt a chill, as if I questioned if there would be a next time.
"We shall see" I said grimly.
He looked at curiously, questioning my meaning, but seeing I wasn't going to respond, he slumped back and rested.
You must understand a few things. Nicalen and I are the heads of the elven branch of a covert resistance movement, determined to destroy the Drow army, under the command of Matron Immuriel, who is attempting to form an above ground colony in hopes of one day conquering the entire surface world (Drow live in the underground world called the Underdark). Nicalen and I, being elves as we were, and Drow being our mortal enemies, readily took up the task of their destruction. We were soon joined by a rank of dwarves, whose mines were in danger of being raided, and though I personally don't have any kind of liking of dwarves, we weren't about to turn away any help, especially since half of them were clerics, and we desperately needed their healing spells.
Then came our backbone. Unannounced and uninvited, but hardly unwanted, thirty mages showed up at our door, coming from the Hosttower of the Arcane, who supposedly wanted to supervise and aid our mission, although i'm sure they, like most humans, hoped for some form of power or influence to come to them.
Now that you understand, we return to the battlefield. Our clerics go around, healing our wounded, and a task force going around, beheading the Drow bodies, just for assurance that they were all dead. We only keep one or two prisoners from each battle, as Drow are too dangerous to take chances with.
Then we fall back and begin planning our next attack, and continue to push the Drow back to the bleak, dark holes from which they emerged.
It is the fourth day of Nightal. My advisors and I sat in a strategist room, planning our next attack. We had expected a retalliation, but had not heard much from the Drow in the last month. Then our intelligence came through with reports of a large-scale operation our enemies planned on using in hopes of eliminating us altogether. But we wouldn't go down without a fight.
I do make light of the task, but deep down, I fear we may be in over our heads, our forces still recovering from the last battle. So turn my attention to the meeting, just as Onyx Castlemeir, the dwarven general stands up and speaks.
"I still feel we would do better to attack underground."
"What kind of an idiot are you!?" I screamed at him, finally losing control. "The Drow live underground! They would then have every possible advantage!"
"We wouldn't be in the tunnels, we could collapse the tunnels on top of them, crippling them at worst.
"Because none of my elves are going to go running around in some dwarf-made hole in the ground, and risk far to many casulties!" I growled, thoroughly annoyed at the idea, even though it was a reasonable idea.
My paladine advisor, Sir William of Martin, the only human present, other than our mage leader, tried his best to calm me, but the dwarf hefted his battle ax and sneered, which annoyed me more. I then turned to Nicalen and created our own more private meeting.
The following morning, the morning of our attack, I sat, very nervous as I sharpened my Musame long sword and talked to my sentient sword about the coming battle.
"Nervous, are you?" the weapon asked.
"Of course not" I lied.
"I have telepathy, you stupid elf."
"Shut up, sword" I replied hastily.
Then Sir William entered the room and announced the time of our march drew near, and then stoically as always, turned and walked silently away.
After a days march, we arrived at the Drow complex, about an hour before dawn. After convicing myself they were not suspicious of an attack, I had our mages cast various protection spells on us, and we began to climb the wall. Once my own group reached the ground on the other side, we, meaning Nicalen, Sir William, two mages, and seven Dwarven clerics, made our way to the main complex, which was the mouth of a cave which led back to the Underdark.
I held Faer Daphen, my talking sword out, as it conjured a magical light to guide us.
Eventually, we found our way to the main audience hall, and prepared for the coming battle. As we called out our various war-cries, Sir William smashed in the door, and we charged in... to an empty room. I paused for a moment to admire the beauty of the Drow handiwork that filled the room.
Then I heard a noise that chilled my bones-- laughter. I turned slowly to see Matron Immuriel sitting on her chair looking at us amusingly. We had been set up. She made a signal, and thirty Drow dropped down from the ceiling. In just that initial attack, they slew a mage, and five dwarves. I charged, blocking a blow directed at my head, made a feint to the left, swung right at the last and beheaded my opponent. I swung again, and just by pure luck, disemboweled another potential enemy. I saw a pile of enemies around Nicalen, and Sir William, with his Holy Avenger two-handed sword, cut down three Drow in one swing. I could feel the heat of spells, both arcane and clerical, being thrown back and forth. We battled on, but for every Drow that was slaughtered, two more replaced it.
Only me, Nicalen, and sir William were alive, but I then saw the Paladin go down, a sword in his chest and a dagger in his skull. I realized just then that we were fighting a hopeless battle.
Then my very heart was racked with horror as I saw Nicalen, my best lieutenant and closest friend, fell. I was fighting alone for my life, even though I knew it was a worthless effort. It didn't take long before I felt the sting of a blade slipping through my ribs, and reach for my heart. I looked down at the blood, my blood gushing out of my chest and through my fingers.
I turned to the matron and cried through the pain "Dos orn neitar g'jahall udossa", Drow for "you will never defeat us."
I then sank back, felt the Drow begin hacking and mutilating my body. Then I was engulfed in darkness and knew no more....