RP:Ambush in the Forest
Outskirts of Sage Forest
An opening in a rock leads from a place above the pass to this forest, filled with the sweet chirrup of birds and the ever sweet smell of life. Leaves litter the floor, along with small bugs and bent roots. The gnarled, yet majestic trees cast cooling shadows over great distances. Squirrels, chipmunks, woodpeckers and all different types of animals make home in Sage, and simply add to its wonderous beauty. This is the mystical beautification of Hind, the Emerald-Seer. North, through a dwarven-made crevice, is a tall outcropping, looking over the pass. East is a continuance of the Sage Forest.
Silence reigns in the early morning, mist shrouding the forest floor. Amongst the shadows at the roots of the gnarled trees, the drow wait. There are ten of them, crouched in their hiding places, heads cocked in rapt attention. There are six warriors, all armed to the teeth. Scattered through through the melee fighters are four mages, robed and hooded, just as sinister as the drawn swords and lances. Their prey soon becomes obvious; a small patrol of elven rangers approach, near the end of their nightly duties. A few of them speak softly to each other, and it is this sound that the drow focus on, ready to pounce. One of the warriors, slightly apart from the others and clad in a strange, pale leather, catches sight of them first, and raises a hand slightly to signal the others.
Daath : The patrol, unaware of the danger that lurks ahead, continues on the path that nears the boundaries of sage forest, and ever so more into danger. The drow, having mastered the art of stealth seemingly blend into the environment about them, using the shadows of the various trees provide for them this early morning as the allow their prey to travel into the depths of their cleverly laid trap. When the last one passes, this being the rear guard, the drow spring into action, led by the mages, who quickly unleash powerful spells of silence, that cause the entire area to become magically mute. Not even the shrill cry of the songbirds can escape the sphere the mages have put in place. When the elven rangers suddenly go mute mid-conversation, they are alerted to the danger, drawing forth their bows and swords and readying themselves for what is to come. It is only now that the trap fully comes into fruition, as for the next magical aspect of this assault if for each of the mages to drop a globe of darkness in precise locations, thus blotting out an area some one hundred feet by one hundred feet, thus creating a silenced and darkened arena of death for the drow warriors to enter. Daath, looking to his brother, uses the drow sign language to communicate to his brother. " Have fun." Before he takes a step back, and prepares a series of planned spells to unleash upon his prey.
Vlontyrr gestures the warriors on, and they spring toward the half dozen wood elves from all sides, each moving to their targeted foe. Vlontyrr, garbed in his eerie armor, meets with the captain of the rangers, dual blades whirling in silent fury. All around him, men fight silently, not even the sound of blades escaping to tell of the fight. The two bowmen die swiftly, their weapons rendered useless in the close quarters, but the swordsmen react well, parrying each slash and thrust and even striking back. A drow falls, a red stain spreading from his stomach. Vlontyrr bulls into his foe, slamming him against a tree before whirling to take on the newly freed elf, engaging him at once to keep him from fleeing for help, leaving the captain unconscious in his wake.
Daath hears naught a single sound from within the magically silenced darkness that his brother has entered, but allows a devious smile to form upon his ebon lips at the thought of elven blood being spilled by drow hands. As if his mind was read, the sergeant of the troupe charges forth from the magically conjured globe, and springs forth to cut down one of Daath's mages with ease. This causes one of the globes to vanish, and creates a sizable hole in the area for sight once more. The elven ranger then turns, and eyes Daath now, a zealous fervor burning in his eyes. But that same spark is alight within the eyes of House D'Jiv'undus' House Wizard, and as the ranger lunges forth, Daath extends his right hand and calls forth from out of the shadows the Xalious-staff that was gifted to him by the Eldermage, Tiphareth D'Artes. With a single word, a powerful bolt of lightning erupts forth, and is sent towards the elven sergeant in hopes of felling the fool on the spot. But this man is a seasoned warrior, and quick on his feet, he dodges the bolt by rolling to the left. Daath, now highly aggravated with this man, ceases to toy with his foe, and twirls the mystical catalyst about with skillful ease, occult verses pouring from his gullet in rapid succession, causing what appears to be various dark tendrils of arcane power to erupt forth from Daath's staff, to ensnare the foolish ranger as he charges forth so valiantly. Each of the sergeant's arms, legs and about his neck and torso, is now firmly grasped by the power of Daath's spell. It seems the sergeants very life force was being drained, as a look of utter horror overtakes the ranger's ever fading features. Within moments, he is barely alive, seemingly held in thrall by Daath's very will..
It is over as suddenly as it had started. Two drow lie dead on the ground, another two sorely injured, but elven blood stains the ground as well, seeping slowly from the four dead bodies. Vlontyrr saunters over to bind the elven captain as he begins to stir, gagging him as well. This done, he draws a long, curved knife from his belt and looks at Daath with his pale eyes, then at the dying sergeant.
Daath knows that looks all to well, and seeing that they need to move quickly, before another patrol comes about, says to his brother from the boundaries of the sphere of silence. " You may have him brother, you are in need of a new vest." A devilish smirk form upon the dark elf's features, as he drops the sergeant, and makes his way over to the captain, as he says to the men. " Go, back to the Underdark, we shall be there shortly." Daath takes hold of the captain, and turns to his brother and says. " I am sure the good ranger there would love to help us send a message, aye brother?" Knowing well that Vlontyrr was damn good at sending the messages Daath wanted sent, the mage leaves his brother to his work, and disappears by means of a magical incantation...
Vlontyrr stands above the weakened ranger, who is unable to do anything but look up at his death. Crouching, he sets to work. The sergeant screams, but he cannot be heard. The pale drow does not seem pleased by that fact, but he continues his work all the same. When he is done, he fetches the rope. It takes a goodly amount of time, but in the end, five bodies hang from the trees, skinless and bloody, the sergeant easy to spot because he, unlike the dead, still twitches feebly, scattering droplets of bright red blood. Vlontyrr takes his gory trophies, and leaves.