21 nightal

The crunch of the underbrush signaled they had returned from the dragon's lair. The sun, though not seen below, had just crested the horizon. They were back at the ruins in the twisted portion of the Forest of Mir. As it had been before, it was quiet. Too quiet. No stirring of the winter animals, no songs of the birds. Just creepy silence and the sounds of their breathing between the crunchy steps. Jinx had to reorient herself to point out the path they needed. They found their horses still around, spent the next half hour feeding and caring for them, and then everyone was trapsing again twords what they assume was the way to Myth Dyraalis. It was about two hours before they realized they had been off the correct path. The tabaxi realized her mistake back at the stream they crossed. The five companions doubled back, finding the body of water, and returning to the correct path. Another several hours traveling when the horses started becoming spooked. The lythari, in her wolf form, sensed it too. The pungent smell wafting past her nose. Looking back at her companions, she stopped in her tracks and motioned with her head the direction she sensed. Everyone's hands moved twords a weapon as they stood waiting, expecting an ambush.

Padding out of the underbrush was a dire wolf as large as a fully grown horse. Sniffing at the air, the monstrous canine bore its slavering fangs. It saw the black furred wolf and sprung at her. Ariali was barely able to move out of the way of the attack. Zarae saw the beast lunging for the lythari ranger. The bracer of daggers released three subsequent blades for the monstrous wolf, two just missing as the dire wolf tumbled with the ranger. The third struck the beast's rump. The beast growled in agony, turning its head twords the attacker. Ariali used the distraction to lunge at the enemy, teeth clamping onto its leg. It jerked its head back to bite into the neck of the black wolf. Zarae hurried over, drawing her sai and slashing at the large beast, drawing a bright red line along its side. It didn't let up however, clamping harder on the lythari. Ariali jerked wildly, teeth tearing flesh and tendons of the dire wolf's leg; where her neck meet her shoulder was torn open, blood gushing. The drowess stabbed again, aiming for the ribs.

On the heels of the dire wolf had been the clomping of large feet. The feet were attached to a tall hunch monster with putrid grayish-green rubbery skin and eyes glowing a fierce red. Long pointy teeth were bared and ungainly arms ending in long sharp claws swiped at the nearest companion. Jinx tumbled into a roll, avoiding the clawed attack of the forest troll.

Zyne didn't hesitate; he hurled a mote of fire at the creature. "Use fire!" he yelled as the fire bolt struck, charring the troll in the chest. The tall creature took another awkwardly wide, swipe, this time aiming for the dwarf who struck him. The dwarf in the midst of his next spell was unable to avoid the attack, claws racking his shoulder. It interrupted the spell and he cried out from the pain, blood drizzling down his robe.

Jinx was back at her feet, paws feeling for one of the few fire arrows in her quiver. The warm metal between her fingers, the arrow was knocked and released into the troll. It hollered as the fire damage prevented the regeneration of its flesh. Tahlethar slipped in from behind, his morningstar just clipping the troll's hip. The troll responded with a backhanded swipe, knocking the elven cleric back and the breath from him for the second. The last fire arrow struck the troll in the neck, and it stumbled a moment, but maintaining its footing. It turned quickly on the dwarf, attempting to bite at the outstretched arm. The magical bolts of fire flew, hitting the troll in the head. Dazed, he was unable to avoid the morningstar crushing his knee and knocking his feet out from under him. Grimacing in pain as he flung his arms twords the monster, the dwarf cast another scorching ray that hit the troll square in the chest. Arms flailed as he fell, knocking the elf down as he went down. Jinx hurried in a better position, releasing an arrow at the troll's face, bedding it deep into its eye. The non-fire arrow and morningstar's wounds had started regenerating, but the fire blast to its chest kept it injured.

The dire wolf released the black wolf, turning to snap at the dark elf withdrawing a blade from its ribs. But it found itself wheezing as blood billed its lungs. Zarae didn't let up, her second sai aimed for its throat. Ariali stayed down, unable to use her left shoulder at the moment. Blood spurted as the blade hit and soon the dire wolf was down, unable to attack. The drowess ran over to the wolf returning to elven form; Zarae grabbed Ariali's cloak and held it to the wound to staunch the bleeding.

"Medic!"

The troll twitched as it gave up its life, unable to recover from the flames. Tahlethar laid their stunned a moment catching his breath. Hearing the call for help, he let out a gasp of pain attempting to sit up. The troll's blow had taken him in the ribs, which no doubt had broken one. The cleric scooted over twords the dwarf, calling on the healing magic of his goddess. The gashes started knitting and the flow of blood eased.

Zyne eased himself to the ground, holding the wound, "why is it always me blasted arm?" he grumbled, between painful breaths.

"Your head's too hard?" the elf tried to joke as he failed to stand. Zyne able to move his arm helped the cleric make it to his feet, both rushing over to the ranger and drowess. Her wound was deep, teeth having torn into muscle to the bone. Tahlethar began whispering a spell over the female elf. Lifting the cloak, the wound had started to heal, but was still bleeding pretty bad. Another prayer of healing magic slowed the blood flow; Ariali was able to move her should, though not without severe pain.

"Thank you," she whispered between agonizing breaths.

"Well, it was not a total ambush," the drow offered in the awkward silence, as they took a short rest. A waterskin was passed around and a few rations opened.

Jinx retrieved her three fire arrows from the troll, kicking it before rejoining the other four. "Looks like the horses got scared off," the tabaxi called back, noting the tracks leading away from the trail. She knelt down to the leaves spotting drops of blood. It looked like at least one was injured.

"Hey! Don't ye be trapsing around out there!" the dwarf tried to holler before she was following the trail. "Durn cat," he grumbled to the other three.

Zarae volunteered to follow, making sure their tabaxi friend didn't come into trouble. The broken branch was easy to spot, as were the running hoofprints in the soft ground. She was following the path she suspected Jinx and the horses had taken. The footpath divided, a set of prints going in both directions; the horses had split up. It was then she heard one neighing and pounding the ground; its reigns were tangled in a thick bush, legs scratched up from fighting with the thorny branches, but it was a minor injury. The drowess slowed her approach, trying to calm the equine who continued to rear up against the bush. It was clear the horse had been tiring from its struggle, breath heavy from the exertion. It yanked its head one last time, when it spotted the dark elf nearing slowly. She held out a hand to allow the horse to sniff, then rub its brown furred neck.

Jinx quietly made her way through the underbrush, still following a set of two tracks. She clawed the trees marking her path. The scout paused to listen, hoping to hear some sign she was closing in on them. Her keen ears picked up the distant splashing. Picking up speed twords the sound, she had to hope that it was the horses and not something dangerous. More blood smeared on the leaves and tore up ground led to the stream. The tabaxi backed up, not wanting to be near the body of water. she took a second trying to get her rising panic under her control. Leaning against the tree, she took a steadying breath, then gave herself a running start. Launching herself in a graceful flip over the stream, the cat landed on the other side with a squish in the mud but having cleared the running water.

In a small clearing she saw one of the horses slowing to a trot, a deep gash on its hindquarters seeping blood. Its gait was awkward, clearly favoring one of its hind legs. The scout too slowed pace, easing twords the injured mount. The sharp neigh was the warning as two goblins jumped from the brush brandishing spears. The palomino reared up kicking out at the small creatures; the attack too much for its injured leg and the horse lost balance. Front legs came down, and so did the rest of its body. The goblins neared the horse cautiously, one, shaman looking, handed its spear to the other. It neared its rear end to examine the wound, trying, and failing, to calm the beast. Jinx didn't understand what was happening, popped up from the bush and fired an arrow at a tree, attempting to scare off the goblins. She quickly knocked a second arrow, stepping out and threatening to fire at them. The two goblins turned as if to protect the horse from an enemy causing Jinx to hesitate. The second one tossed the shaman its spear back.

"That is our horse," she hissed out in broken undercommon. They looked at each other, not understanding and moved closer to the cat woman, spears lowered. She repeated herself in the common tongue and elvish. None of which the goblins understood. Lowering the bow, but keeping it loaded, she pointed at the palomino, then pointed to herself, trying to communicate the horse was hers. Spears stabbed the air, their attempt to run off the feline woman, claiming the horse for themselves. One rubbed his belly, indicating they saw the horse as their next meal.

Zarae walked the brown horse back to the clearing with her companions, "found one," handing the reigns to Tahlethar.

He was up and about, an arm close to his side where the troll had hit. The horse was led to a tree and secured. The elf did a quick pat down, making sure the horse hadn't sustained major injuries, then checked his saddlebags. An apple was pulled out and fed to the horse while he rubbed its neck, soothing it.

"Still hunting the other three and our feline," the drowess called back vanishing into the trees again.

She followed the path, taking the other trail at the split. Ten minutes traversing the horses' trail, it crossed a wide stream. The other side of the water one horse's trail continued up the embankment and did the barely noticeable pawprint of her companion. She guessed the other horse had traveled down the calm stream.

In the distance, the grunting sounds and unmistakable guttural tongue of goblins. She picked up speed to twords the clearing, the sounds implying it was about to get heated. Busting through the thick bush, the drowess nearly slammed into the tabaxi. The two goblins were not expecting the appearance of the dark elf. They hesitated in their advancement, fear showing on their faces. The goblins took a step back, twords their claimed prize.

"They want the horse," Jinx whispered to Zarae, "they seam to think it is their next meal."

Speaking in the goblin tongue rather badly, Zarae tried to explain the situation. Eventually she made a deal, if the horse is too injured, they could have it, as long as they get their supplies off the mount. At first the goblins wanted the saddlebags too but looking at the two armed and dangerous people before them, this would be the best deal they would get. Especially from a drow. Reluctantly, they stepped to the side, allowing the dark elf near, but kept their spears ready. The horse was lying on its side, breathing heavy and in considerable pain from the wounds.

"They believe it will feed the tribe for weeks," as she knelt down, a calming hand on the horse's neck. Zarae motioned for Jinx to examine the horse to confirm her suspicion. Jinx agreed. If they could cast healing magic, they could save the horse. But that meant getting the cleric back here to cast the spells. They doubted they would get the elf here in time without a battle with the goblins. The girls cleared the saddlebags of most the supplies. Hesitantly, Jinx agreed to the goblins having the horse, if they killed it mercifully.

"It just the speckled horse we haven't found?" the dwarf asked after it was confirmed that the palomino was gone.

"It ran down the stream most likely and I am unsure how far and where its trail might have gone," the tabaxi confirmed.

"Maybe we can get horses in Myth Dyraalis?" the lythari offered.

"From me understanding, not many willingly leave," the sorcerer commented offhandedly.

"Not from be prevented," the elf clarified, "most willingly stay."

Since they had lost a few precious hours with the troll, they decided to take a long rest and restart fresh. They burned the troll, making sure there was no chance of it returning. Afterwards they sought a defensible clearing to rest in, setting up and securing their camp, upwind of the burning monster. They sat in quiet watching their campfire burn, no one in the mood to chat. There was an unexplainable sense of weariness and dread that rested over the forest. A nearly tangible oppressive feeling, keeping each of them edgy and restless. The dwarf took first watch, stirring the fire as he glanced to each of the companions. Suspicion and ill-ease started filling his mind as he was mentally questioning each of their motives and purposes.

The young tabaxi looked back over her shoulder as she gripped the coveted blade tight in her paws. She knew she should give this burning desire up. But the hatred for the mage overwhelmed her common sense. The voice calling her back was just a muffle. There would be no stopping her in this, not even her best friend's plea for her. Everything was quiet this late hour, not a single slave or captive stirring. They had long ago given up hope of freedom or rescue. Resigned to their fate, they slept in their ongoing exhaustion. The tent flap pulled back quietly despite the soft breeze that night. Again, she ignored the cry of reason. Sleeping in luxury and completely unaware of the threat looming over him, the mage rolled onto his back, lips smacking and then returned to snoring. She raised the dagger, the candlelight flickering off the metallic dull edge. The keys, at the worst moment, jingled as they fell to the wooden floor. Eyes popped open as the blade came down. It was a split second when the blade plunged in. But the mage was just as quick, the magical barrier came up throwing the tabaxi across the tent. All silence was gone. The mage screamed from the blade sticking out of chest. The commotion awoke the person in the cot on the other side of the tent. She sprang from her sleep, nearly falling to the floor. The cat girl had managed to her feet, dazed. She turned on her paws, running for the cage her best friend was in. The second spellcaster did not miss the flash of the person who exited the tent. The wizard stumbled to his feet, realizing he had gotten lax and trusted he had broken the young cat, to his detriment.

"I want her dead," he grunted between painful breaths, yanking the blade free, and pressing a hand over the pouring wound.

Outside the tent, the flash of a tail went around the corner. The tabaxi tumbled over a table with loud clanking sounds of the dishes fell. and then but realized her mistake- the keys!

"Hurry up," the male tabaxi called frantic as he could hear the rest of the camp awakening to the screams. Seeing his best friend stop, fear on her face and hands empty. "The keys?" Sneaking Shade asked.

"I dropped them," Jinx whispered, forced to turn and head back twords the mages.

Terrified what this meant, more for Jinx than himself, he urged her to flee, escape, get away.

"Never," she would not leave Shade behind.

Spinning on her heels, she started back for the largest tent again. The blast of purple energy tore into her chest knocking her off her feet.

A wicked grin replaced the surprise on the female spellcaster. Hands in motion and the incantation building, she flung his hands out. However this missile didn't hit the female tabaxi. Streaking over her head it slammed into Shade.

"SHADE!" Jinx screamed as she attempted to roll over to her stomach. She could barely move and clearly would not move fast enough.

Shade slumped against the cage, haven taken the blast full in the chest. He groaned; eyes full of terror as the female stood at the cage door. Shade glanced to Jinx as she managed to her knees, her own face full of panic.

They both knew what was coming. The swords edge slid between ribs deep into the tabaxi's chest. Blood filled his lungs. He tried to gurgle something to his best friend. But it was drowned out.

Helpless, she took off twords the woods. The wizard saw the female tabaxi running, releasing a dagger into her side just before she made the treeline.

"Get her," the wizard demanded with clinched teeth to the men who surrounded him. He fell to his knees, one of his men stayed behind, already in a healing spell.

Jinx stumbled again, losing precious blood as she fled. Tears blurred her vision, burned her eyes. She didn't know how long she ran, but she was aware of her slowing pace, the trail she was leaving behind. It would only be a matter of time before they would catch up to her. a hole tripped her, and the tabaxi didn't get back up. She rolled to her back, wheezing, her breath strangled. She didn't know how long she had lay there. All she saw was Shade's face. The look of betrayal she was sure of. A look that would forever be burned in her mind. All because she could not control her temper. She told herself she had to kill their tormentor, their enslaver. She had to end her hell. Soft steps, a breaking of twigs alerted her to a presence. The young tabaxi closed her eyes, still seeing Shade's dying face. At least she would join him with the Catlord soon. Maybe she would be allowed to apologize to him? Or would Shade even hear her out? Could he forgive her?,,,

,,,

Music carried out on the summer wind. The sun was setting and the forest nightlife was moving about. The female sun elf wrapped an arm around the male wood elf, nestling closer as he whispered in her ear. The elfling made fake gagging sounds as he saw his parent's loving embrace.

"Oh shush," the male remarked to his son.

"One day you will find yourself just like us," the mother commented jovially.

"Not me," the boy called, "yuck!"

The parents laughed at their son. The stars twinkled so clearly. It was the night of the new moon. A few day it would be the young elf's anniversary of his birth. How excited he was. He would be taking his next step twords adolescence. Outside the other cottages families sat, most enjoying an evening meal. Many were laughing, others were playing musical instruments, everyone blissful.

Back in the cottage, the sounds of a crying infant. The sun elf put her head on her partner's chest, clearly exhausted, though the smile didn't depart from her face.

"My turn?" the wood elf asked.

"No. I can take care of her. It is time for her evening feeding."

The male elf child watched his mother depart inside to care for his sister. The father watched the boy return to practicing with his toy sword. Walking up, the wood elf corrected the boy's stance, adjusted his arms to better hold his sword, "there, damia."

No one saw nor heard the shadows creeping from their hole, moving as silent as death. They split into two groups, the first surrounding the small village in the bushes waiting for the signal. The others crept twords a clearing near the creek. The second group split again, intentionally setting themselves up to draw the men out.

A small horn was heard, alerting the tiny village of the threat nearing. The elven warriors armed themselves with swords and bows and headed twords the drow warriors. Swords clashed and rang, dark clad and heavily armed fighter against peaceful villagers. Another horn call, and more drow warriors appeared, some up in the trees armed with poisoned crossbows. When the elven warriors were in range, they released their bolts, most finding their targets. Several wizards cast their killing magic into the group, throwing elves to the side.

What the elven warriors missed was the shadows now creeping from the treeline into the cottages. Screams alerted the elven warriors to what was happening. Some trying to get past the drow to their children. Mothers fought back as best they could, some trying to plead for their children's lives. But the bloodthirsty drow were too many and not merciful. They were chopped down as they shielded their young, many of the elflings caught in the path of the bolts or blades.

Tahlethar ran, his mother's sword in hand and baby sister in arms. Commissioned to get to the forest and stay hidden. He turned twords the cottage the drow just exited, thankfully the infant was quiet, and they remained hidden from the drow's superior darkvision as they were focused on dragging the severely injured female elf out. Another drow beside him held a dead elven child by its foot. Many of the female elves were thrown to the ground, tied up and bleeding out. A priestess of the Spider Queen stepped into the clearing. The most wicked grin of glee on her ebon face. Eyes blazing crimson, her hands raised as she began a chant, a prayer to Lady Chaos.

"Death is strong;
But Llolth is stronger.
Time rules long;
But She rules longer.
She solaced our woe
and soothed our sighing;
And what shall we do
Without her guidence?

"She sends us pain,
and we bow before her;
She smiled again
and bade us adore her;
She solaced our woe
and soothed our sighing;
And what shall we do
Without her guidence?"[1]

One of the elven mothers shoved the drow dragging her aside and attempted to rush the priestess. Evil magic building in the air as the praises to Lloth released the power. The elf was thrown back like a ragdoll, slamming into a pile of stones that was a firepit. Tahlethar saw the scene, horrified at the slaughter happening all around him. They entered a partially built cottage and hid in the far corner.

"set the trees ablaze!" the priestess called in the midst of her chant.

The dark elven wizards released several fireballs on the cottages and trees. The living male elves were dragged twords the drow priestess as their homes burned down around them. "Death to the dathiir!" rang out from every drow there.

"Mother Lloth, take these males as sacrifices," the priestess started, "our enemies, your enemies the faeries…" When the time came in the prayer, sacrificial daggers raised and driven deep into elven chest. The living females selected to return with the drow were chained together, snake headed whip tasting flesh as the male warriors dragged them.

Tahlether huddled in the black corner, hearing the chants of the drow, and the sounds of crackling wood, the support beam falling beside him flinging hot ambers onto his arm that protected the girl. He stifled a whelp, so terrified of discovery. The infant whimpered before her face screwed up in a wail, but no sound was heard. Tahlethar suspected his mother cast silence on his sister, knowing she wouldn't be able to keep quiet. "Aillesel Seldarie," he whispered for himself and his sister. Thick black smoke, the smell of burning flesh,,,

,,,

The eldest daughter gave the girl a wicked smile, not easing the girl's fears. The next oldest daughter turned to face the rest of the people in the large domed chapel, waved her hands and the house began chanting;

"She is hungry and eats our children; - how shall we feed her?
She takes our young males and our maidens; - ours to obey her!
We are loathed and feared and reviled of all Elvenkind; that is our pride.
She feeds us, protects us, loves us, and kills us; no longer shall we hide
She is Evil and huge and beautiful! She is our mother!
She is lustful and lewd! - Spider Queen; we have none other!
In the day she was hidden from us, but we found her moaning in the shade.
We shudder and give her our will in the darkness; we are afraid."[2]

It was a song to the Spider Queen. The room grew darker as the brazier fire went dull, billowing thin smoke onto the platform. A foggy haze grew as the song rose and fell in intensity. The effects made the girl feel lightheaded and dizzy. Refusing to grab ahold of anything to not appear weak, she stood still in the middle of the aisle and closed her eyes, fighting the overwhelming sensations and feelings.

Then as the song neared its first pause, the matriarch stepped out from the curtain. Zarae opened her eyes to see her mother dressed in her most elaborate ceremonial priestess robes. Blood-red spidersilk with purple and black shimmering effects. On her belt was the snake headed whip writhing in anticipation.

"Step up here, my dalharil," Matron Shyntyl called to Zarae in an eerie motherly way.

Zarae stood dumbfounded for a moment; her mother had not claimed her yet so personally. It was something to be earned. But the hesitation was only a second or two and she did as she was told. The eldest daughter raised a hand, and the chapel became a silent as death, even the crackle in the fire seamed to heed the high priestess. A snap of fingers echoed in the chamber and two female priestesses stepped out. Between them was a pale skinned bound prisoner with a burlap sack covering the head. Dressed in tattered rags, one could see it was a female; and her body structure gave away as elven or elven ancestry. At first thought, Zarae thought it might have been one of their surface cousins for a special occasion. It was not uncommon to have special offerings the Spider Queen or begin high holy days with the shedding of the blood of the drow's most hated enemy. Only, it wasn't a holy day. Every drowling learned those early on. She didn't think they were going to war and asking for aid, no house wars had occurred in over four centuries; not to mention only one house remained above them in rank. She didn't believe they had lost favor. Such a ceremony would not have been so public.

Matron Shyntyl uncharacteristically took the girl's hand and walked her close to the altar. the sacrificial dagger was held out to the matron. Zarae took a sweeping glance over the audience, the look not easing her nerves.

The two priestesses roughly forced the prisoner to her knees. The matron circled her, the sacrificial kris tugging at the burlap on the prisoner's head. Stopping behind the bound female, the matron's hand grabbed the sack and yanked it off. Once again, the girl was dumbfounded. Her brows knitted in confusion and she started to back-peddle. Zarae's oldest sister stood directly behind her, cutting off any chance to run. There bound and gagged was Averl, her beloved guardian, the closest thing to motherly she'd ever had, in the worse condition she had ever seen the slave. Zarae's heart dropped and her eyes grew bluish in hue.

The incense and mix of emotions left her stunned and mind clouded. Thoughts were blurred and she could not think straight. Zarae unintentionally tuned out most of what was said to her. However, the word betrayal rang through her mind as the high priestess spun the tale. Bile rose in her throat- trust invariably brought betrayal. Averl had betrayed her.

the matron's influence washed over the drowling, the girl's eyes change as the emotions played out. They were weaning out weakness, turning her into that cold blooded emotionless killer, to remove compassion and mercy, joy and laughter, and fill it with hate, greed, and lust.

Matron Shyntyl held the sacred blade out on her palms, "Show us," was whispered in her ear, "Do what you desire."

A moment passed, what felt like a century to the girl; everyone watching begin chanting again. Dark supernatural powers fell like an oppressive invisible blanket trying to smother her, trying to choke her soul. Zarae could not get out of this, even if she desired. Her mother, the powerful matron stood before her, and no doubt Lloth was watching. If that was not bad enough, the entire house was watching her in expectation that this half faerie elf would die. If she did not do this, loss of favor of her house would only be the beginning of new kind pain.

Compelled by so many external influences and her own feelings of anger at betrayal, Zarae took the blade into her hands. She just held it, hands trembling as the song of the chapel began and grew twords a climax. Turning to Averl, she closed her eyes once again, this time removing any compassion she had for the friend. Opening them again, her face was cold, dark, and lifeless as any other drowess. Zarae stepped up to the slave she viewed as a trusted associate. The blade in hand, the matron pulled the slave's hair, yanking her head back to expose her chest for the blade to plunge in.

In a blink of an eye, a thin red line appeared on the slave's throat followed by a gush of blood pouring and spraying the girl. Gasp of final breaths the body was allowed to drop to the floor. Blood spilling out in a gush forming swirling red paths on the black floor flowing twords the depression. Cheers of victory rang out among the gathered house and praises to Lloth along with shouts for the death to all their surface cousins.

She looked down, her hands and arms covered in warm red liquid. When Zarae registered what she had done, she tried to drop the bloody blade, but her hands refused to let go. Matron Shyntyl placed a proud hand on her youngest daughter. The matron's following words were not even heard by Zarae who had watched the red sparkle of heat leave Averl's eyes. Nausea and sickness threatened to overwhelm her,,,

,,,

Roughly she was thrown to the floor, barely able to catch herself before her face slammed into stone. The thick slave collar prevented her from retaliating. A mocking laugh echoed in the chamber. Blood dripped from her hands, her face. But it wasn't her blood. Sobs escaped as she curled up, arms wrapped around her knees. She could already hear the cries and screams all around her.

"Well done my pet," the aasimir purred, his hand on her shoulder.

She couldn't look, for she already knew. Her mind replayed the scene over and over again. Their expressions held confusion, eyes pleading for explanation. The compulsion fell over her; the pull of magic so strong, she couldn't resist. She screamed as her body was forced into her wolf form. Screams turned to growls as she still tried to fight against the commands. But it was no use. Her body acted of its own accord. Teeth bared as she neared the elven cleric. The woman, nearly identical in looks to the lythari, pleaded for her to stop. The other elves, all chained to the wall, called out, trying to reason with the black wolf advancing on them.

"A'Sum," she called to her daughter, hoping the words would wash over her, reminding Ariali who they were.

The aasimir's magic was stronger. Teeth found a bared neck, sinking deep into the flesh.

The sobs continued for what seemed like eternity, returned to elven form and laying next to the shredded dead. Brom checking her work, genuinely surprised at the savageness and clearly pleased.

"Don't be like that, my pet," he walked over to her, gentle like a lover, lifting the lythari to her feet. "I have another surprise for you."

Behind him was chained her former companions, revulsion on their faces. They had seen her previous acts on her clan members, her own family.

"Not yet," leading her down the corridor, "we will enjoy them later. I must show you the success of your work. What you have accomplished!" as they stepped into the grand chamber.

The temple was dedicated to a world apocalypse. Murals and frescos re-reinforced the idea with various depictions of the end of the world. The air was heavy with a sense of despair. Incense filled the chamber with a thick fog.

A tortle waved a powerful wand in front of a portal, her other hand holding a scroll buzzing with power though it now was empty of the arcane script. Around the tortle bodies piled up. The portal opened wide, on the other side a familiar desert landscape. The sky was clouded over, but not by natural weather and the unearthly sounds fill her with terror. Helmyn motioned for the aasimir to lead the way through. He pulled his pet with him. It didnt take long for the lythari to see the undeniable signs of the Horned Beast's passage from the opened-up earth: desert trees unrooted, cliffs mangled, boulders splintered into pebbles. Buildings were reduced to rubble and dust and scattered across the desert expanse. The acrid smell of smoke and burning wood filled the air, mixing with the metallic tang of spilled blood. A burning tower in the distance was the source of the think plume of smoke.

A gargantuan bipedal monstrosity, horns thick as tree trunks, rose up on its hind legs to come crashing down, demolishing the tower as if it was a pile of sticks. The structure crumbled, collapsing, and sending flaming debris everywhere. This was once was a well-fortified city, but nothing stops the beast. Small figures scramble in the distance, desperately seeking escape. Powerful claws ripped, tore, shredded through the remains. A gaping mouth destroying everything alike. Pitiful attempts to stop it, weapons don't even leave a scratch. The creature completely ignored the army before it, not quite done destroying the city and was more occupied with smashing the last few buildings and hunting down the survivors.

The triumphant posture of the tortle as she screamed and laughed in victory, then turned to face Ariali, "thank you," barely above a whisper.

Brom set his hand on her shoulder again as he leaned down to her ear to whisper gently, "you didn't really think you could leave me did you?" pulling her in close as his arm slid down to her side.

[1] Unsure where I found this. Lost my notes with credit.

[2] ibid