Jessi: I do not own Forgotten Realms. And Tiamet is a nuetral aligned deity. As to why he fell... that will be explained later on in the story.
Keroigar knelt beside the elf, healing magic sweeping from his hands into the stranger's frail body. Vale sat beside him, checking for signs of infection. Her delicate fingers were seeking additional injurys.
The dark lashes fluttered as Keroigar finished his work and a hint of green was visable beneath them. When Vale touched his forehead the eyes opened fully, wide with shock. Then the mouth opened and the elf screamed.
Vale flinched and placed her hands over her ears. Did he want to bring the whole forest on them?
In the shadows a pair of eyes narrowed in fury before their owner vanished.
At that exact moment the scream was cut off. The elf sat up, his mouth working soundlessly, his hands clutching his throat.
"What happened?" Vale took her hands away from her ears.
Keroigar frowned and cast a healing spell on the dark-haired elf. Still no sound came from his throat. Chel left his seat and used some of his diminishing reserves of healing magic. Nothing happened but Chel swayed and had to sit back down.
After Samera's unsuccessful attempt the elf wrapped his arms around his knees and sobbed silently into his robe.
Vale felt usless without her clerical magic and sighed, feeling like bursting into tears herself.
"We may as well set up camp here and think on this in the morning," Keroigar got to his feet and began to set up a fire.
The corridor had been carved out of the bedrock many years ago with a high, arching ceiling and vast columns. These columns were carved with wicked devil faces and grusome scenes of torture. Between each pair of columns, of which there were five, was a stone dragon. These seemed to not have been made as skillfully as the rest of the decorations. Their hides looked rough and unfinished and their bared teeth were jagged and uneven. The flared wings were tattered and torn. However the eyes gleamed with malevolence that seemed to bring the statues to life.
The staues were unatural in the private thoughts of the black-robed mage as he hurried along the corrdor to his Lady's chambers.
When he pushed open the doors he had to duck to avoid a hurled figurine.
"You fool! You have failed!" the Lady's eyes burnt with raw fury behind the dark mask.
"B- but my Lady T-" the mage began stammering from his crouching position on the floor.
"Do not use my name!" she looked quickly about the room, "They might be listening!"
"But my Lady... We made him mortal-"
"I did not want him mortal! I wanted him dead!" The Dark Lady crossed the chamber and strode over to the wide bed. On this her body slave, captured just a tenday ago, trembled in his chains. The mage had seen the moon elf being brought in, resisting every step of the way. Now however the exquisite face and slender body bore the mark of whip and dagger and he flinched whenever the Dark Lady made a move towards him.
"Dead! I want to see his blood flow! I want to hear his screams as I slowly exact my revenge!" with a shouted command her pale, dainty fingers became black talons. She drew her claws across the moon elf's face and grinned at the screams that followed.
"But... but my Lady he is with four others. We do not know..."
"I do not care!" the Dark Lady turned away from the mutilated moon elf, "Send out twenty of our troops," she turned back and licked the blood from the male elf's ruined face, relishing the saltly taste, "Bring them all back... I want their deaths to be so... very... slow."
"Yes, my Lady," the mage retreated while the flames of insanity in his Lady's eyes flared brighter than ever.