AN: I have this story set in my own campaign world, though I'm using the Forgotten Realms Drow with a few tweeks. (Because RAS's Drow are awesome) If you could leave a review with your thoughts I'd be very greatful. I'll try to get a chapter out every week, barring work and you know...that life thing.
Clouds drift across Eiden's nighttime sky like a ragged cloak, masking both red and white moons. Below the land darkened considerably, the areas where humankind dwells clearly marked by watchfires. The wooded hills to the west lay mostly tame, but the deep forest in the south come alive with the sounds of night creatures.
The Elvenwood, the Home of the Fey, the wild land where the fair folk rest their heads in reverie. Closest to the human lands lies the elven outpost Watcher of Autum, nestled in the foothills of the Dragonridge mountains southermost reach, home to two score elven warriors and their families. Relative peace has rested here for nearly a century.
Tonight the forest fills with screams, the cries of the dying mingled with the exultations of battle lust.
A single human male, the only one who lives within the deep woods of the south, creeps slowly closer. Alarmed by the sounds, the man, Jerek Two-arrow by name, carefully made his way towards the commotion. Being a close neighbor and sometime friend to the people of Watcher of Autumn forces Jerek to confront his fears, creeping as close as he dares to the commotion ahead.
The sight that greets his eyes as he enters the perimeter of the outpost freezes his blood cold, forcing him to unwittingly hold his breath in horror while clutching a nearby maple for support. For in his view lie many faces he knew, all dead, with the cloaked figures of their killers hovering over them. The beautiful houses woven from trees with magic burn, casting an earie light on the scene and distorting the forms of the murderers.
One of the shadows turns half towards Jerek, causing his stomach to drop in fear as a wisp of snow white hair trails from her hood. The woman's skin is dark as pitch, her face as fair and haunting as the Midnight Lady* herself. In her arms, the only one of her kin without a weapon in hand, is a small squalling bundle.
At this a single word escapes Jerek's benumbed lips without his concious intention.
"Drow..."
He claps a hand over his mouth, suddenly aware of how unnaturally quiet it was, fearing the dark elves had heard him. However, instead of turning their attention to the east (and Jerek) they watch the woods somewhere south of the human. After a few seconds Jerek hears it, just as a host of elven warriors bursts almost silently onto the scene.
All is stillness for several seconds, then the Wood Elves cry out in rage, horror, and grief. Both sides spring into action, the Wood Elves fire their longbows as several Drow throw knives or fire small one-handed crossbows. Several elves on both sides fall, some dead, many wounded. The Drow turn to run northwest, into the foothills, and their surface cousins gave chase, slashing at slow survivors. As they run, Jerek sees the Drow maiden with the child fall with an arrow in her back.
As the fey leave Jerek steps forward, coming out of his shock, he goes to help the wounded. Many of the forest dwellers have died in seconds, even without mortal wounds they curl apon themselves. Blood seeps from their mouths, turned in grimaces of pain. Unnerved by the utter chaos, the man takes several seconds to react as a child screams again, the loudest sound now besides the fire's roar.
Blindly, he goes to the Dark elven woman. She still lives, though her breathing is labored and she coughs blood into the dirt. Upon seeing Jerek, she sneers, weakly moving herself over the squalling child. Jerek first thinks the Drow woman is trying to protect the babe, until the childs cries grow more and more labored. Realization forces the compassionate man into action. His right foot connects with the dying Dark Elf's jaw with savage force, causing her to roll to her back. The child's cries redouble as his would-be murderer coughs up her last gasping breath, her lifeblood running from the corners of her mouth and her crimson eyes roll upwards. With one last shudder she dies, leaving the human with the only other living thing in the burning elven village.
*Refering to Eiden's goddess of death, Lillith. She is also known as Lillith of the Pale Hand, the Grim Beauty, and Mistress Death. She governs the souls of good folk and helps them cross over to the afterlife. Despite this her name is considered bad luck by humans, who believe invoking her name brings her near.