RP:Drow Hunting
Part of the Surface Tension Arc
Synopsis: After having been persuaded, or manipulated depending on your perspective, by X into hunting drow, Skylei ventures into the Underdark alone, consumed by a lust for vengeance for the Sage elves. To her surprise, a drow lingers just beneath the surface, alone and ripe for Skylei's anger. The half-elf and drow meet with violence. The foes engage in close combat in the dark, relying on physical prowess, magic, insults, and taunting gestures to bring this encounter to a fatal end. Gevurah gains the advantage, forcing Skylei to flee to the surface, with a lock of the drow noble's hair clutched in her bloody fingers.
This rp is a free form duel in spirit.
Entry to the Underdark
Gevurah leaves the city alone, and there’s no good reason why a drow noble ever should, and so her reason must be bad. The Underdark is a dangerous network of monsters and darkness, and Gevurah has the right to accessorize for any mission with common soldiers that fight under the insignia of her house, the First House of Trist’oth. But today her entourage consists of one creature, and bipedal it is not. Halbyrn, her giant spider mount, patrols the tunnel leading deeper into the caverns, towards the danger that lurks and infects the air with evil so palpable it suffocates. Gevurah, in her arrogance, neglects to guard the passageway that leads towards the surface – the world of light, which fears the world of darkness. She is the terror to those who dwell above her, and that knowledge contents her as she culls glowing mushrooms. She kneels in a thin layer of mud, her gaze flickering into her left periphery to scan the deep and to her right periphery to scan the surface, but heavily favoring the former.
Where better to strike than at the heart of Skylei’s problem? The Underdark, one of the few places Skylei has never desired to venture, is her destination. Xersom’s false words have planted seeds in her mind that she is stronger than she is, and so she believes that she alone could penetrate the outskirts of the Underdark. There is something poetic, in her mind, about this venture; the drow have taken her home and so, in foolish retaliation, she shall invade theirs. The darkness is like none she has ever known and, for as long as she can she descends using only the blessing of her nimble footing and her hand pressed against the wall. She daren’t press to hard, save the jagged stone cut into her flesh. Her other hand is held in close to her chest, a paltry dagger in its grasp. However lightly she steps, the bones underfoot crunch and crack indicating her presence to those of good hearing. If she turns another corner she will be confronted with the sight of Gevurah in the light of the glowing mushrooms.
Gevurah takes flight at the sound of an approach - an unwelcome approach as all approaches are in this foreboding terrain. She retreats and presses her back against the wall opposite the copse of mushrooms. Though she was already moving as Skylei turned the corner, it is unlikely she escaped the bewitching glow of the fungi completely, and, when moving quickly, it is difficult to silence the hushed swoosh of her piwafwi, and the whispered groan of her supple leather armor. The drow knows she has been seen, betrayed her own gear and her own arrogance, though she is loathe to admit the latter. Skylei’s heat signature and stature marks her to be a human, elf, or some kin thereof - a multiple choice list of foes which fares poorly in striking fear into the heart of a drow. Quite the opposite, actually, for elves are the natural enemy of the drow - the boogeyman drow parents use alongside a whip to discipline their children, and the target drow leaders erect to unify the race. Gevurah slips a dagger from her weapon’s belt soundlessly, and lets it loose in a cartwheeling trajectory towards Skylei’s eye with the speed necessary to ensure the pointy end finds flesh, and the force necessary to ensure it bites deep.
Skylei sees a flickering of a figure into the darkness as Gevurah presses herself up against the wall. A drow? Here? Or simply a beast lurking in the cavernous darkness. Skylei had not realised that she had reached quite so deep underground; of course, she hasn’t, Gevurah’s simply straying where no ‘good’ drow noble should be. What the thing is, Skylei cannot be sure, but she knows full well that everything in this condemned place is fit and able to kill her. That is when the dagger flies. It is mere luck and not skill that keeps Skylei moving and prevents her from being impaled on the sharp end of the knife. It grazes the side of her ear and bites her flesh before embedding itself with a sickening crack just to the side of her head. Though a minimal wound, it shocks her into action. She knows just about enough about drow to know that fighting in the dark leaves only her at a disadvantage. And so Skylei said, let there be light, she willed it, and at once there was light. And the light was good. Well, it didn’t quite happen like that, but a flame, small enough so as not to exhaust her energy but bright enough to light the expanse of the cave, bursts forth from her left hand. Gevurah, now clearly visible, and clearly drow, becomes Skylei’s target. Two daggers, one in hand and the other pulled from her belt, are thrown in quick succession; one slightly to Gevuah’s left side, the other to her right.
Gevurah winces against the burst of light, letting loose a low snarl. As a visible target, she must move. She pushes off the wall and backpedals in a few zigzagging paces as her eyes adjust from the infrared spectrum to the light spectrum. Gray eyes open and glare at Skylei, replacing the red-glowing eyes that shone a moment before. She charges forward as Skylei releases two daggers consecutively. Gevurah can clearly see both weapons, and the existence of a second dagger suggests that she should duck under the first dagger, rather than feign to the left, where she expects the second dagger will fly, and it does, moments later. Suddenly a globe of darkness envelops Skylei, blinding her with Gevurah’s preferred ambient light: none. Darkness swallows light. The innate skill of the drow race cannot be bested by magical light, and within it even heat is hidden from the heat-seeing eyes of the drow. Despite the fact that within the stationary globe both Skylei and Gevurah alike are blind, Gevurah strikes at where Skylei last stood. She kicks her booted heel, toes flexed back, straight up at Skylei’s mouth and nose. Outside the immobile globe, Skylei’s light burns on.
Skylei ’s only guess as to where Gevurah is, in this internal darkness, is the position of the drow prior to the darkness’ envelope. Hands instinctively rise to fighting stance – left before her chest and right before her face. As Gevurah’s kick comes it meets Skylei’s flesh, but that of the protective hand rather than face. Her hand pushes against the heel of the boot, deflecting it from her face with a sharp outwards motion. Fast moving boot against bare flesh stings like a bitch, but Skylei resists the urge to withdraw her hand as a reflex, Instead, should she be able to, in the few milliseconds that she has in between the kick and the withdrawal of her leg, Sky would wrap her hand around Gevurah’s ankle and twist it sharply to the right in an attempt to send the drow off balance and crashing to the floor. She ducks low as she reaches for her ankle. Skylei assumes that now Gevurah knows where her target is, a fist or knife will quickly follow the first blow. The only indication as to where Skylei is in the darkness that surrounds the duo is the heat of invisible fire still burns in her left hand. Skylei doesn’t know that if she steps back a few feet further, she will be out of the all-encompassing darkness, so she stays put for now.
Gevurah won’t relinquish contact within the globe of darkness. The best way to know where her opponent is at all times is to maintain physical contact. The halfling is quicker than Gevurah expected, and to her frustration that speed prevents her kicking foot from withdrawing from the attack. Skylei has a firm hold on her ankle, and there is no way Gevurah, off-balance and slight, can resist going down. However, she’ll make damn sure Skylei goes down with her. She grabs Skylei’s forearm just above the wrist, its position revealed by the ranger’s grip on Gevurah’s ankle. The drow keeps her own elbow bent and close to her body so that her arm doesn’t extend vulnerably as her left hip crashes onto the unyielding stone floor. The drow lets out a roar that is part pain, part aggression, all a release of energy to buoy her to keep acting, keep moving, keep fighting. With her vice grip still on Skylei’s forearm, she quickly sits up in a twisting motion to lodge her shoulder under Skylei’s abdomen. She seeks to use her bent elbow as leverage to send Skylei flipping over the fulcrum which is Gevurah’s shoulder, and, if all goes well, set the halfling prone to the drow’s anger.
Skylei goes down with Gevurah. She hits the floor with a crack as her hip makes contact followed by her skull. That hurts, but Skylei is keener on wrenching herself free of the drow’s grasp so that she can take her distance and recalculate her attacks. Gevurah might like to fight up close and personal, but Skylei favours space. Try as she might to tug her arm free of Gevurah’s grip with repetitive inward, she cannot wrench it from her grasp. Skylei is so concentrated on tugging her grip free that she doesn’t foresee the next move and is promptly flipped over Gevurah’s shoulder. The twist of her arm following the flip is agonising and, the half-elf screams some kind of violent curse. Like most wounded animals in a trap, Skylei lashes out wildly with her free, and still flaming, hand, kicking her legs to force herself nearer to the drow. This wild, unrefined attack has no target, save for getting Gevurah to let go of her aching arm and, if possible burning her flesh a little. Any injury will do, though Skylei’s hand lingers closest to the drow’s neck and shoulders.
Gevurah left her legs in the wrong place to properly defend herself from Skylei’s flaming swipes. A faceful of fire forces her to reconsider her strategy against the pyromancer. The sting of the burn elicits a terrifying howl and she is forced to surrender her grip on the halfling’s arm. Though even as she withdraws she inflicts, her sharp nails drag briefly, but forcefully, against the bare flesh on the lower half of Skylei’s forearm, the half not protected by armor. She rolls away from the halfling and quickly finds her feet. Gevurah is lucky her piwafwi is fire-retardant, but unfortunately her cheek is not and the boil of a second-degree burn blooms over her ebon flesh. Adrenaline keeps her going; rue the moment when the adrenaline subsides. leaving her to feel the full sting of that burn. Gevurah backs out of the globe of darkness, giving Skylei the distance she foolishly believes will save her. The drow noble levitates above the globe of darkness so that she may see Skylei’s reappearance into the light. As she floats, she whispers the incantation of a chilling spell, ready to be unleashed whenever Skylei finds the light, if she finds the light. It is of no consequence what the half elf chooses to do, because even if Skylei stays put, Gevurah will simply dispel the globe of darkness when she is ready to test her theory. The spell is typically used to drain the target’s body heat as a camouflaging tactic (usually used on Gevurah herself as an evasive move against infrared-seeing predators). Gevurah has never used the spell offensively, but against the pyromancer she surmises that the spell may extinguish the flame engulfing the halfling’s hand by either removing its heat source or overpowering the heat with frost. The spell’s frost is not powerful enough to freeze Skylei or cause any quantifiable damage, but that isn’t Gevurah’s goal; eliminating the threat of fire is. However, the spell is transmitted through touch, not over distance, and Gevurah must successfully make contact with the pyromancer. She floats over Skylei’s head and drops at the speed of gravity right on top of the halfling! Ideally, she’ll jump on the halfling’s shoulders, grab Skylei’s face briefly and unkindly, then hop off with acrobatic grace. Failing that, any contact will do.
Skylei doesn’t even feel the digging of Gevurah’s nails into her arm. Like the priestess, adrenaline pumps through her veins and the only pain that she feels is the ever-pressing throbbing of her right arm, still stinging from Gevurah’s hold. After the release of her arm, Skylei backs away quickly from where she thinks that the drow is, pulling herself to her feet. Skylei would move around the orb of darkness for a good few moments, stealthy steps and waving arms are her guide and inform her that the drow is nowhere to be found. Where has Gevurah gone? Skylei internally curses herself for not researching or understanding the way that drow work and their special abilities, because she certainly does not know that noble drow have the ability to levitate. Had she known this, she might have been filled with gladness. What is more satisfying for an aggrieved wood elf than knowing that she had caused harm in some way to a drow noble? The only suggestion of where she might be is the whisper, almost unheard, from above. Anyone with lesser hearing would miss the subtle utterings, but Skylei, ever dependant on her elf lineage makes out noise from above. As she retreats beyond the hold of the dome of darkness, Gevurah drops from overhead landing, as she had hoped on Skylei’s shoulders. At her touch, Skylei feels a cold emanating from within her ball of flames. Her hands are lifted to above her head and slammed backwards into the drow’s face, either to bruise, break, or knock her from her shoulders, but almost as soon as this is done, Skylei’s flames are forcibly extinguished by the spell and they are submerged back into darkness.
Gevurah doesn’t linger on Skylei’s shoulders long enough to be hit properly. Skylei manages to land a glancing blow on the side of the drow’s piwafwi as Gevurah leaps off the halfling’s back. The darkness reassures the priestess; she has the advantage again. Although she cannot see Skylei’s heat signature due to her own chilling spell, her advantage is not lost. The drow have yet one more innate ability. Skylei is suddenly outlined with harmless faerie-fire which betrays her position to the cruel drow priestess. It would be easy now to strike from the shadows, to surgically cut the vital lifelines that sustain her opponent - but where is the fun in that? The drow are often mischaracterized as dry, evil, brooding creatures, but that is only because those who have seen a drow enjoy torturing a lesser race (read: all races) have not lived long enough to refute the mischaracterization. Gevurah soundlessly unclips a whip of vipers from her belt as she circles her prey unseen, moving towards the dagger she lost at the start of this encounter. The whip hisses towards Skylei’s feet, and the venomous vipers would bite as they constrict around the halfling’s ankles. The venom is not fatal, but it is very painful. That is it’s only purpose; it does not kill, paralyze, or blind, but simply causes pain. The drow have a long cultural tradition of torture and this whip is its symbol. If the vipers manage to secure a strong grip, Gevurah would jerks her arm back in an attempt to trip the pyromancer. If she fails, it does not matter. She retrieves her dagger and approaches Skylei, dagger held offensively. “You’re too unwieldy to keep as a slave. Offer me something of use, and I’ll consider reducing the pain you suffer as I kill you.” She speaks elven, not drow, with a strong accent.
Skylei has no knives left. The two she had brought with her are lost in the darkness and she has no hope of retrieving them. Up close, Skylei prefers not to use a bow, but she really has no choice here. She’s going to have to pull a Legolas and shoot at close range. She’s blessed with centuries of bow use and whilst she can fire and reload in milliseconds, it leaves her uncomfortable and feeling vulnerable. With an arrow readied, Skylei knows she is at a disadvantage. What fool comes into the Underdark without heavy training prior to travel? Skylei Lucindio, that’s who! She doesn’t shoot yet. She cannot see and her only indication as to where Gevurah is, is that heavily accented voice and the vipers that bite at her ankles, leaving her in agony. “Name your price.” Skylei replies in common as she edges in the direction she thinks the drow stands, not wanting to grace the woman with the language of her people. Her surprise at the drow knowing her language cannot be suppressed, but the half-elf is playing for time, desperate to come up with some solution. The arrow is pointed down to the ground, Skylei hoping that Gevurah will take this as a symbol of co-operation. She won’t co-operate, nor can she out sneaky a drow. But she’s grasping at straws and she’ll at least try.
~~Knowing languages and being bratty, just drow noble things.~~ Gevurah laughs - ‘cackles’ would be the word most would use to describe that horrible sound, but to the drow, this is a laugh. She is having a grand time. “Stupid mutt,” she responds in elven. Aware that her voice gives her away, she keeps moving quietly in the darkness, always a moving target. “Your screams are reward enough. If you have nothing to give, then I am doing you a favor by ending your worthless life!” Her whip strikes again, this time aimed at the bow in Skylei’s hands in an attempt to disarm her.
Ew. The sound of drow laughter hurts Skylei’s ears. The half-elf keeps moving along with the drow, following the sound of her voice in a circular fashion, keeping the wall behind her. It’s true, when deprived of sight, the other senses really do get stronger. As the vipers snap at her hands, Skylei maintains her grip inspite of the new agony. She will not cry out. Skylei would rather face the pain in her hand than lose her bow or give Gevurah the pleasure of hearing her pain. Anything but that. Skylei’s bow is worth nearly as much as her life. That final insult to her snaps the half-elf’s questionable patience. Once she reaches the point where the wall break away into a passage, she stops, “You speak elven like a dog” she informs Gevurah in the aforementioned language. Then, as soon as the words have left her mouth, she would fire three arrows in the direction that she hopes Gevurah is in based on the sound of her voice alone. The first is way off mark, the second two fly in her direction.
Gevurah has decided that the halfling’s insistence on survival is one of the greatest frustrations the drow has experienced this decade. Lesser races should learn to accept when they are being put down, and yet here is Gevurah still trying to break this foolhardy creature. She wants her to break, to just give in and accept torture and accept death. Instead, Skylei fires off three arrows. In close, dark quarters it is nearly impossible to dodge arrows. Gevurah swings her whip in a wide arc to redirect the trajectories of the three arrows. Two of the arrows clap against stone, but the third grazes her side just above the ribs. The hit would have been more direct were it not for the minor but crucial deflection afforded by her leather armor. The sharp arrowhead still cuts through the the supple leather and draws thick, deep blood. Gevurah chokes back a choice insult; talking is what gives her away. She knows this, but that knowledge does little to absolve her prideful nature’s yearning to eviscerate opponents in dialogue as well as combat. She hisses through sharp teeth and moves again through the shadows soundlessly, hoping to disorient Skylei in the darkness once more. When the halfling faces the wrong direction, the priestess whispers for another spell - a rather quick one, thankfully. This one grants her hardened skin, akin to that of the stone which will eventually entomb one of them (aka Skylei). The hardened skin will better withstand arrows should she be hit again, though magically enchanted arrows would still be able to pierce through her skin at reduced efficacy. Gevurah keeps moving; she waits again for Skylei to lose her. At the first opportune moment, she unleashes her serpentine whip once more, this time aiming for the halfling’s throat. In contrast to last time, the drow does not hang back. Regardless of where her whip lands, she attempts to tackle the ranger to the ground and force the long-range combatant into a grappling fight.
Skylei agrees! Lesser races -should- learn to accept that! Unfortunately, the two differ in opinion on exactly who that lesser race is. As Gevurah moves around the cavernous expanse, the creak of leather and subtle breathing is Skylei’s only indication as to where her adversary is at that moment. It’s disorientating and yet, she doesn’t move from the spot she stands. Knowing that she has an escape passage behind her is imperative to Skylei’s plan; she will not give up that spot unless forced. She does spin, turning her head, this way and that in order to locate the female. Gevurah takes her chance as Skylei turns away from her, and lashes out with the whip. Two of the vipers latch onto the half-elf’s neck, biting at the soft flesh, and finally Skylei can hold out no longer. She utters a short cry of pain, but it is enough to leave her feeling defeated for her show of weakness. That said, this is a new level of agony, the kind of pain that leaves you dizzy and faint. Her surroundings spin, or at least they would if she could see anything. She barely has time to cast the bow aside to save it from being crushed beneath her weight as Gevurah tackles her. One hand reaches behind her for an arrow to service as a makeshift dagger, the second reaches for Gevurah’s hair. Girl-fighting is the level they have reached in this battle of wills. The arrow-dagger is aimed under and into the space in Gevurah’s ribcage with as much force as she can manage as she tugs at the priestess’ hair. She doesn’t remain still, constantly tugging pulling and squirming in an attempt to pull free of the drow.
A stab to the rib cage during a grapple is the oldest counter move in the book. Skylei should consider getting her nose out of books and her feet in the dojo - especially if she plans on being a drow hunter. Gevurah’s first instinct in entering a tackle against an armed opponent - a move only a very angry and equally cocky combatant would dare risk - is to immobilize Skylei’s hands. Once again the halfling’s slippery resistance blemishes what would otherwise be a flawless execution of violence. Gevurah only manages to prevent the arrow-wielding hand from piercing its target. Skylei’s other hand successfully grabs a fistful of pale hair and aggravates the burn on Gevurah’s cheek, provoking the drow to roar in pain. Flexible and quick, Gevurah pins her bent knee, with the bulk of her weight behind it, against Skylei’s wrist to render the arrowhead useless. Her other hand wrestles Skylei’s fingers in her pale hair. Skylei’s armor whittles down potential hand-to-hand targets to just one: that grotesquely-pale halfling face. Gevurah’s free hand turns inward at a sharp angle, fingers tense and poised to claw at tender, unguarded flesh. Her sharp nails aim to quickly scrape against Skylei’s lips and hook beneath her nostrils to jerk her head back. Gevurah is not squeamish about ripping through the bulbed flesh of Skylei’s nose.
Skylei doesn’t expect Gevurah to be quite as strong as she is. Sky had been counting on her human blood to work in her favour. Her hand is pinned against the ground before she is able to meet her target and, in spite of her struggle, she cannot pull it loose. As Gevurah starts to claw at her face, Skylei snarls and tosses her head from side to side in a wild attempt to prevent Gevurah from getting a grip. This is only slightly successful and the nails dig into her skin, causing a stream of blood to hurtle down her face and into her mouth. As the blood pools, Skylei continues to struggle against the grip of the drow tugging her hair upwards in an effort to pull her up and away from her body. In an act of foolish retaliation, and a reflex that comes as natural when in close proximity with a drow, Skylei spits her bloody spittle in Gevurah’s face in the hope that the drow will be distracted and disgusted by this harmless, but vile, attack. Then comes a sudden change of tact. Pulling her knee in as far as she can with Gevuah’s body pressed against hers, Skylei pushes it up and into the drow’s stomach. In tandem, she uses the hand that’s engaged with the drow’s hair to pull her abruptly to the side. Her aim is to push Gevurah’s weight at least partially from her body and free her trapped hand from under the priestess’ knee. She hopes she will have the element of surprise and the drow will have been expecting a continuation of her wild-struggle technique
Gevurah would have preferred to destroy Skylei’s nose, but is appeased by the halfling’s bloody maw. It won’t matter much what part of Skylei’s face was tortured after the halfling is dead. Gevurah savors this moment. This blissful torture in which she carves up an elven face up close and foul, in which she feels the skin of elvenkind buckle and puncture beneath her nails - this is the fevered dream of her entire race. Few acts could be more satisfying than the defilement of an elf - even a half-elf will do. And perhaps the drow is a little too content in her macabre joy, for she does not expect, and as a result suffers the full brunt of, a spray of bloody spittle to the face! Skylei’s jaw prepares for a second round of spit, and the halfling’s grip in Gevurah’s hair ensures that the drow won’t be able to avoid the spray. Forced to face it head on, and too proud and livid to just take it without some retaliation, Gevurah catches the bulk of Skylei’s spit and blood in her own mouth, and spits it right back at Skylei between her teeth like a viper spitting venom. The in-kind retribution and Skylei’s thus-far unimpressive grappling technique leaves Gevurah blind to Skylei’s final move: the leveraged flip. The halfling successfully usurps Gevurah’s pin completely. In fact, because Gevurah was leaning her weight off towards the left, onto Skylei’s right wrist, Skylei has the advantage of Gevurah’s own momentum. She sends the drow sprawling with such force that a fistful of pale hair tears free in Skylei’s hand. Gevurah uses the momentum’s swing to continue rolling to a safer distance away from Skylei before gracefully popping back up into a stance. The Underdark flanks the drow; the daylight of surface world flanks the halfling, unseen but felt. Drow eyes set in determination and Gevurah, mindful of Skylei’s bow and her impressive skill with it, charges forwards again, cursing as she closes the gap between them - literally. She calls upon her goddess to curse this elf, and the curse will take effect instantly. It aids Gevurah by making Skylei feel sick, feeble, confused, disoriented. It won’t kill Skylei on its own, but it will make it almost too easy for Gevurah to do so. Tired of this toy, Gevurah retrieves her dagger and strikes at Skylei’s throat, hoping to end this once and for all.
As Gevurah rolls away using the momentum of Skylei’s force, the half-elf would scramble to her feet, a handful of drow hair still in her hand and a mixture of both their spit and her own blood smeared across her face. Skimming her empty hand along the uneven ground, Skylei quickly comes across the bow, but before she has a chance to properly load the bow she is truck with a wave of sickness. Skylei begins to feel nauseous, her stomach turning and her head spinning. This nausea created by Gevurah’s curse, is only aided by the dank smell of the Underdark and the fact that she has a mouthful of copper-tasting blood. Skylei needs to get out of there and now. Unable to loads her bow, she doesn’t drop the hair from her grasp. As Gevurah approaches, all that Skylei can do in retaliation is reach out with her hand and attempt push the drow away with as much force as she can manage. Oh gods, her head is whirling and she can’t see straight. She feels as though she’s about to fall over and she doesn’t have much time before she strikes again. Still blind, she turns as soon as she pushes the drow away, and, after near stumbling straight into the murderous wall, begins the quickest retreat of her life up towards the surface. Bloody, battered and bruised but not entirely defeated and, most importantly, with a fistful of hair in her possession.
Gevurah chases Skylei, but the half-elf proves quick and just as Gevurah begins to catch up, Skylei is saved by the sun.