Disclaimer: Dungeons and Dragons and its material are copyrighted to Wizards of the Coast. Pathfinder is copyrighted to Paizo Publishing.

N1: So this story was inspired by reading the Pathfinder system; I'm trying to keep my stuff close to accurate in game terms, so if you see some strange or mislocated powers that aren't core d20, it's because it's from the changes in Pathfinder. However, I dislike the whole Golarion setting, so I'm gonna go with Dungeons and Dragons with its Points of Light setting instead. I don't enjoy Dragonborn that much, so it's unlikely that they'll make an appearance.

N2: Trance is what elves go into instead of sleep. They pretty much meditate. Just for you who didn't know.

N3: As it isn't that set within fantasy settings, I'm going with Pathfinder height. A.k.a., elves and drow are taller than humans, rather than shorter. This probably doesn't matter too much, though.

N4: This is also using the fourth edition pantheon set in the Player's Handbook.

-~-

Chapter 1: The Contract

Hunting: it is something that my people are used to doing. It is an activity that our society has done since the dawn of time. Whether for food, shelter, or protection, we hunt. It is the art of survival to my people. Some may call it being overly proud, but my people are the only ones who have not been fully domesticated by civilization. We keep our ties to this world, while others, like the humans and dwarves, have forgotten the beauty of the earth we live on.

Of course, there are others who do not appreciate the earth's bounty. One particular people- the drow- have my undying hatred. Bastards of Lolth- they don't deserve to call themselves elven.

And one is in my sight.

I laid prone to the ground, hidden in the underbrush. Not more than fifty paces in front of me sat a drow, legs crossed and floating nearly two feet off of the ground. He was in trance, no doubt. Such a bad spot to rest.

I began to crawl across the cool ground, approaching the drow. Gripping my two daggers tighter as I came closer, I knew this would be an easy kill. Serves him right for encroaching on elven lands. My body lithely flew up and behind a great pine tree without a sound; I silently made my way towards the man, my daggers in a readied position. He was within striking distance, the tranced fool.

My eyes scanned over the drow. The man's face was sharp and angular; his goatee seemingly formed a point for his chin. White marks made their way around his face, their angles only accentuating his features. His white hair was kept short and slicked back, revealing a crown of sorts tattooed onto his forehead. His body was covered by a well-fitting black jerkin and slacks, accented by white trim. A small tome was chained to his belt, hanging loosely but securely at his hip. Emerald gems were embedded into the leather cover of the man's spellbook.

This man was no simple brigand. What was such a noble drow doing outside of the Underdark? Usually the only drow who ventured this far out of the Underdark were small parties of raiding drow and duergar, not lone nobles.

"Color Spray."

Suddenly, colors of all sorts shot towards me. Reds, blues, greys; every color and every hue seared into my vision. Even colors I have never even encountered before flashed before my eyes! Everything went hazy as the storm of colors overloaded my eyes. I began to feel lightheaded, before passing out.

-~-

Light.

I could feel the sunlight on my face, although my eyes refused to open up. I forced my eyes open, the sun in my face. I was propped against a tree, a pillar of light straight above me from a break in the canopy. I shook my head and tried to gather my thoughts. What happened? Everything moved so quickly after I found that lone drow, it was all slurred into a single moment. Was I flanked by another one of them?

"Next time, at least attempt to be stealthy. I could hear you approaching from thirty paces away."

I attempted to put up my arms in defense, only to find that I was bound to the tree I laid against. My head darted from side to side, to catch sight of my captor. He approached me from my left, casually strolling till he stood directly in front of me. He held his tome in one hand, turning the pages slowly with his forefinger as he scanned each page. I instinctively spat, my saliva landing on his right boot.

"Underdark scum!" I shouted in Elven. "What's your business in our lands?"

"I'm sure I am the only one in the position to be demanding answers," the drow replied in a thick Undercommon accent. He closed his tome and let it fall limp to his side before approaching me. He simply wiped his boot against my breeches. "As it appears, you are the prisoner while I am the jailor. Quite interesting, isn't it? I was led to believe you were attacking, while I was the unprepared one."

"Your kind are not allowed in our lands. If you don't leave, my people will hunt you down and kill you," I announced.

"Hopefully more successfully than you," he replied boorishly. "If you point me to the nearest point of civility, I will oblige you and leave this horrible place."

"The only place you're worthy of is the Pit! Go back to the Underdark, where your kind belong."

The drow's eyes affixed to my face, widening with interest. A smile crept across his face, only to blurt out a loud laugh. He continued for a few seconds, before regaining his posture. "Oh? You were serious?

"Well, for reasons undisclosed, I cannot return to the Underdark at this point in time. I will attempt to return to my homeland as soon as I acquire the resources necessary for my return."

I looked at the man quizzically, tilting my head to one side. "What's with your language? You talk like you might be worth something."

His eyebrow twitched, but he quickly stopped himself from lashing out. "My worth is not the question, but what I will accomplish. Now, if you are done interrogating my purpose, can I offer a pact of sorts?"

"What kind of pact?" I inquired, resting myself from my struggle to escape. At least this guy doesn't seem too violent.

The drow held his hand aloft, motioning off from behind me. A piece of parchment flew towards him, along with a feathered quill and an inkwell. The parchment unraveled itself and the quill quickly dipped itself and got ready to write. He began to speak, the quill writing his monologue as he spoke:

"I, Szadec the Fifth of House il-Nero, will commit myself to hold fast my spells to your person and will leave these elven lands, if and only if, you. . . . ?" "Davaria dal-Patar." "Swear to bring no harm, mundane or magical, to the first party- me- by personal force or by directive. The second party, you, must also see to it that the first party is properly led out of the elven lands and to the closest non-aggressive city or township."

"Are you serious?" I inquired, a bit thrown off.

"This contract will effectively complete your task of removing this trespasser, while also keeping my interests in mind. If you would prefer, I can dismiss myself from this conversation and remain in this land for an undecided amount of time. All that's needed is your signature."

The parchment floated in front of Szadec as he signed it, then it quickly found itself on the earth next to my hand, while the quill snugly fitted itself within my grasp. I contemplated the contract for a second; what choice did I have? I signed the paper, only to have the contract and quill yanked by his minor telekinetics as my last letter was written.

"Good, now release me, so I can lead you out of our land."

Szadec looked down at me with a befuddled look, then peered at the parchment once more. "No where in our contract does it mention the removal of your bindings. Just hurry, my patience grows weary."