RP:Exiled drow raid part of the Exodus
Background
A group of elves, mostly children, had decided late in the process to participate in the exodus, and was being led by the healer Sophie.
Due to a peculiar twist of circumstances, and a bargain struck, the elves are escorted by the drow Kuzial.
A group of drow exiles, led by former weaponmaster Kell'Var, had chosen the later stages of the exodus to reap some havoc of their own upon elvenkind.
More conflict erupts, and more blood fertilises the trees of Sage Forest
Trouble in Sage Forest
Sophie and the frightened group of elves are hidden on a platform high amongst the trees. Hopefully safe, for now, from any drow other than Kuzial, though Sophie has informed her lord of the position of their hiding place. The healer is doing her best to reassure a group of frightened children that everything is going to be alright.
Kuzial stalks silently through the forests, his movements resembling a hunting panther. As he makes his way to the tree, the patron drow flashes his hands through a series of words in the silent dark elf hand-language. His men, fellow males who are forced upon the surface, spread out around the forest with weapons drawn. Kuzial enacts his innate power of levitation and floats languidly upwards until he reaches the platform. He moves himself forward using a limb, before sneering at the children. "Healer, I have come. Let's get this over with. And children..." He turns his cold gaze to them, "You are only as safe as I decree. So stay silent! Or I'll kill you myself."
Elsewhere, stalking silently through sage forest, an entirely different drow had thoughts of bloodshed swirling through his eager soul. Kell'Var, exiled many years ago when his Matron's house had crumbled, calculated his timing for this endeavour was perfect. With most of the elves already gone, it would be like culling the weakest of an already weak stock from the herd. Most of the rangers had left with the main exodus, and any left guarding the remainder would unlikely to be of any skill. It was, as he had explained to his three blood-brothers, the perfect chance to unleash their frustrations and hatred until they were sufficiently sated by elven blood to last them a lifetime. Carefully, they moved through the undergrowth, mottled green cloaks worn in place of the piwafwis which had long ago crumbled under the hateful eye of the sun.
Sophie :: The poor elf children are terrified into silence, they have been raised on stories of drow brutality and ruthlessness. The few adult elves among the group regard the drow suspiciously. They leave their bows across their backs however, and hope that Sophie is correct in assuring them that these drow will do them no harm, merely escort them safely out of Sage Forest. Sophie bows very low respectfully before Kuzial. "My lord." The gentle healer is very afraid of Kuzial herself, but is trying not to let the children realise this.
Kuzial had glared at the children for a long time, before his gaze raised once more to Sophie, "Get them down to the forest floor. My brethren are our eyes, and for now it is safe... Just ensure they..." He points at the males with bows upon their backs, "Keep their weapons sheathed, no matter what. If they draw their bows, or pull forth the fine knives at their belts, my men will slay them. Let us leave." Without taking his eyes from the elven healer, Kuzial steps backwards and uses his levitation power to float back to the ground. There he waits, tense and ready, for the elves to follow.
Kell'Var motions a halt in a section of thick undergrowth near where the main exodus had passed through, fingers rapidly flashing out handsigns in the drow cant. 'We wait. The accursed forest speaks. Listen for signs of approach. Crossbows ready." With the adaptability learned from years of surviving aboveground, their crossbows are of human make, as are their blades. The curse of exile is the loss of inheritance, but these drow had adjusted, and armed themselves accordingly. Now they waited, like spiders, for the flies to come to slaughter.
Sophie bows low to Kuzial once more. "It shall be as you command my lord." The healer lowers a rope ladder and helps the children, climb down to the forest floor. Carrying the smallest child down in her arms. The adult elves leap gracefully down from the trees. One young adult male, very young barely more that a child himself , glares angrily at the drow Patron and beings to address him. Before he can get out more that a couple of words, however. "I will..." Sophie moves with surprising speed for one not trained in combat. She clasps her hand over the young elf's mouth to silence him. Kuzial's healer servant lowers her eyes and addresses the drow leader once more, not removing her hand from the young treeborn one's face. "My lord, I humbly beg you to forgive this foolish young one's disrespect. He shall speak no more."
Kuzial grins the most unpleasant smile seen in these woods for many a year. He takes a few steps closer to the child and motions for Sophie to release her hand from his mouth. "Speak, elf. Let me hear your words of damnation." He stands there looking almost relaxed, though his hands have come to rest on the hilts of his dagger and sabre.
A slight misty fog arises as the ground's warmth embraces the cooler air as dusk envelops the forest, casting an eerie haze between the trees. Hand signals flash 'Our vision is obscured', responded to by Kell'Var 'So use your ears', continued with 'Heat signals will be weaker', and silenced on 'If afraid, go crawl in a hole. We wait.' And so the four drow wait, crossbows to hand, ready to strike.
Sophie releases her hold which was preventing the angry young male from speaking as Kuzial commanded by his gesture. The gentle healer is trembling with fear for the boy who now speaks his piece as the Patron instructed. Spitting the words out with fury. "I am loyal to the archdruid! This is not your forest drow scum! If you dare spill a single drop of elf blood I will hunt you down and slay you!" Sophie thinks it wisest to remain silent for now, after all she has already begged the drow Patron to whom she has sworn loyalty to show mercy. To speak again might merely enrage Kuzial even more than the foolish boy's speech is likely to do. She watches the proceedings, with great fear and concern, holding her breath.
Kuzial erupts into a fury of motion that in the fading light looks more like a mere blur. He leaps forward, one hand drawing a fine dagger from his belt, the other striking forward like a hungry snake and grabbing hold of the young elf's tunic. With brutal strength the elf is lifted from the ground and bought forward so his eyes are level with those of Kuzial. The razor sharp dagger is placed on his throat and slowly draws a faint stream of blood, though the wound is little more than a scratch. "You are loyal to a whore. This forest is mine. And I have already shed enough blood on the surface to drown many of your kindred. Speak again, child..." Without any strain the elf is thrown to the ground, to land on his back. "And for each word said I will slay one of these children." He stands there, tense and ready, his expression maniacal in the twisting shadows of dusk.
Elsewhere, the exiled drow Kell'Var settles into a semi-trance state, carefully listening to the sounds of the forest. The chorus would change with the presence of others moving through it, and then there would be elven blood once more fertilising the forest. As time passes, the drow knows, there will be less sign of their presence in the song of the forest - less chance for the elves to have forewarning of their doom. As below, so above: a drow hunter must always be patient.
Sophie :: The young elf falls ignobly to the forest floor. He is furious, but given the Patron's threat, he of course does not utter another word. Three of the children here present are his own siblings, and in any case he will protect the life of any elven child. He climbs to his feet brushing leaf litter from his clothing. Sophie places a gentle hand on the lad's shoulder and begins to lead the children towards the west and Frostmaw.
Kuzial grins again in his most unpleasant way, before leading the group of elves towards the distant peaks of Frostmaw. He motions Sophie to walk beside him, and to her he shares whispered words. "You ask much in this task, elf. I hope it is worth it... For your sake." He ends the ominous words with another disgusted grunt, before stepping away from her relaxing into the state of most awareness. He senses more than sees the dark elves that mirror their movements; the surface drow not as agile as once they were; time upon the less dangerous surface having dulled their natural gifts for silence. And it is so that they, the scouts, do not come across the waiting Kell'Var and his men. Though, whether he has seen or heard something, Kuzial seems to be more wary than ever. And as a gift bestowed upon him by a lifetime of violence, he has kept his dagger drawn and held ready for usage.
Time passed with agonising slowness for Kell'Var's companions, though they endured the boredom with drow determination. Eventually the birds stopped their carefree chorus as the hostile presence of the elves drow guardians put the Sage fauna on edge. As the refugee group comes into view above the thin swirling layer of mist, Kell'Var makes two handsignals in quick succession "Adults first. Loose bolts." The four drow rise out of their cover in silent unison, calmly pulling the triggers to send bolts flying towards the taller elves, preference given to those who are obviously armed. Whether these bolts strike or not, Kell'Var's three companions swiftly break to take cover behind the boles of Sage's great trees, bending over to catch the crossbow string in the claw at their belt, foot lodged in the stirrup at the crossbow's end. It will be the work of a few moments, but the act of standing back up will have those crossbows cocked and ready again, a bolt slotted in place. Kell'Var, however, draws his melee weapons - a scimitar and shorter curved blade - as he recognises the elves' guardian. In a sneering voice he calls out, ready to move the instant he hears the twang of bows "So. The prettyboy of House Stavret is a lapdog to the elves now, is he? Have you got a fancy little collar and a shiny bowl?" Kell'Var spits "Imagine that. A drow dirtying his very soul by -helping- an elf. The very idea sickens me. The matrons fall, and -this- is what my people turn into? Namby-pamby elf-lovers? The very sight of you nauseates me." Kell'Var prepares himself - shortly his companions would be ready to strike again, and then no doubt things would get gloriously messy.
Sophie , Kuzial's servant moves to walk beside him as he indicates. Sophie cannot hide how terrified she is at being so close, to the powerful drow warrior who now has the right to command her. She listens carefully to his words, they worry her greatly, many fears run through her mind, what if the Patron has plans to order his obedient elf healer to participate in torture or killing or enslaving beings in the future, now that she has given her oath to obey him, and be loyal to him and his. She speaks nothing of these fears to the drow of course. Merely bowing her head respectfully. "I thank you for your kindness to these refugees and your great mercy in sparing the lad who spoke disrespectfully to you my lord." She sighs with relief when the Patron moves away from her once more. This relief is short lived however as crossbow bolts appear seemingly from nowhere. One strikes an adult elf in the lower back. Another catches Sophie herself , just above her right knee the powerful bolt burying itself deep into her leg. She cries out in shock, fear and pain, stumbling to the floor.
Kuzial allows himself a smile filled with joy at the sight of the male elf being brought down by a crossbow bolt in the back, though when Sophie also falls his smile turns into a snarl of rage. He speaks loudly to Kell'Var, the words laced with commands to his own men. "Death comes from many places, Drow of No House Worth Mentioning." It seems Kuzial has recognized the surface dark elves to be of a destroyed house. "How easy it is to test yourself against our pathetic surface cousins. Let's see you put your pretty weapons to use against a drow weapon master!" With his typical languid grace his sabre is drawn, and with no apparent care for crossbow bolts that may come from Kell'Var's companions, the patron of House Stavret leaps at the rogue drow. His sabre snaps through a series of feints laced seamlessly with dizzying thrusts and swipes as he puts the man through high, mid and low attacks; his sheer brutality almost unequalled by any on the surface. A few of his men have located the companions of Kell'Var and from their own crossbows come bolts aimed at their bodies, before the weapons are cast aside and swords are drawn. Kuzial cares nothing of how successful they are as he continues his vicious attack on the leader of these surface drow.
Kell'Var is forced to cut his vitriolic tirade short by Kuzial's attack, as he flows into the stream of blows, a weaving dance which uses the curve of scimitar and khukri to deflect and slash towards Kuzial's appendages insidiously. Once a weaponsmaster himself, Kell'Var is no slouch with a blade, but where the two drow differ is in the quality of recent opponents. For Kell'Var, it had been many years since he had faced an opponent of significant skill, and Kuzial's early round of attacks open up cuts on the drow's right thigh and left arm as the enchanted sabre cuts through the unenchanted chain shirt Kell'Var wears. But the pain only spurs Kell'Var on as his hatred for the pathetic excuse for an elf-loving drow before him pushes the immediate discomfort from his mind. He spins, cavorts, contorts with Kuzial's momentum and counters, his blades whistling as he moves in snakelike patterns, the dance of his blades designed to slowly shred an opponent's extremities - fingers, hands, wrists, forearms, thigh and knee - all done with the patient love of cruelty the matrons had encouraged in their warriors. Kell'Var's companions, in the meanwhile, were forced to engage with the drow. One of them was too slow in reloading, and was cut down by a drow bolt. The other two however were just fast enough to reload and dive, rolling to their feet to loose bolts at their assailants. Then crossbows are likewise dropped, and the clash of steel on steel echoes around the glades of Sage Forest.
Sophie winces her face contorted with pain. Blood flows from the wound, but not to the extent that the healer is in any immediate danger from loss of the vital fluid.. She makes no attempt to remove the missile projecting from the wound as she knows that to do so now, without first applying a tourniquet might well cause her to bleed to death, she is in too much pain and too afraid for her elf cousins to focus and attempt any healing on herself just now. Many of the wood elves take what cover they can behind bushes and trees. The injured healer begins to attempt to crawl to cover herself, but a wave of such agony passes over her when she tries to move the wounded leg, that she almost loses consciousness. Sophie therefore lies at flat to the forest floor as she can hoping she will not make an inviting target for the crossbowmen.
Kuzial ignores the sounds of ringing steel as his men engage Kell'Var's. He keeps his mind focused on the task at hand; weaving with feline grace from the vicious counters Kell'Var so cleverly sends his way. He takes cuts on his wrists, and a fine striking thrust drives into his shoulder. But the wound isn't too deep, and as many can attest to, it would take far more than that to even slow the enraged attacks of the young Kuzial Stavret. As he spins around, moving like a dancer in the web of steel cast by the two weapon masters, he notices Sophie laying unmoving on the ground. Knowing the entire point of this operation is to keep her safe, he drives the battle further and further away from where she lays. He takes a few small scratches from his reckless attacks, but this matters nothing to him as his own ferocious onslaught continues unabated: His blades flow through complicated attacks that force his opponent's curved weapon higher and higher, then viciously low, before driving it out to the right moments before a tight twist of his heel sends his dagger coming from the left . The moves are fluid, brutal and sadistically aimed to cause death by the most painful method possible. And all the while, the sound of steel on steel, and occasionally steel on flesh, echoes from the warriors fighting their own kind; ironically, the drow causing more damage to dark elves than the Sage Forest elves ever have.
Kell'Var can feel the skill of his opponent as the Patron skilfully dictates much of the momentum of the conflict, and his focus on the fight at hand does not make it clear to the rogue drow that Kuzial might be attempting to protect one elf in particular. Kell'Var knows he is in trouble when he feels the flurry of blades rising higher, and when Kuzial's sabre pushes his scimitar offline he finds himself with limited options - and so, with sheer bloody-mindedness, he ignores the dagger, lets the scimitar sweep out in preparation for a return strike, and as the dagger enters his right ribcage he spins, sweeping his khukri around in brutal backhanded fashion, its reverse curve targeting Kuzial's left shoulder and neck, left exposed by the dagger's strike. The dagger rips through Kell'Var as he spins, causing the drow's assault to be delivered with an agonised shriek of rage. Kell'Var's two remaining blood-brothers continue to fight viciously, but the wounds inflicted by superior numbers start to slow them down.
Sophie is unaware of the Patron of House Stavret's attempts to move the battle away from where his wounded elf servant lies, but does notice that the din of clashing steel seems to be coming from a little further off now. Her pain is less as she is lying still, and hence she looks around for ways to improve her chances of getting out of this bloodbath alive. Sadly there is no stick, strong enough to be used as a crutch nearby, and her druid's staff was thrown some distance away when she was first injured. The healer does however find a long thin piece of a vine, with which she attempts to reach out to her blackwood staff and try to pull it towards her. She also takes a stone in her other hand. A rather pathetic weapon, but she might at least be able to use it to distract an attacker if any rogue drow were to attempt to approach and finish off the wounded woman.
Kuzial drives himself forward as his dagger enters the flesh of his opponent. He pushes hard, causing the dagger to tear through his body with a vicious splattering of blood that soon shifts to a horrendous slushing gush of innards as the dark elf before him all but disembowels himself upon the blade. With his momentum driving him forward, he doesn't even notice the final attack Kell'Var will ever offer in this world of men. But oh how he feels it! His opponent's dagger so easily slices deep into the flesh of his shoulder, and with strength born of desperation it was ripped up towards his throat. But the final slash is stopped at the wrist when Kuzial, with all the brutal speed and skill he has, tears his upper torso back and drives his sabre upwards, severing the hand at the wrist. The death-grip of the ebon hand remains on the hilt of the khukri, sticking from the shoulder of the patron drow, and this causes him to laugh, long and with genuine, though it is dripping with malice, good humour. He eyes the deceased dark elf at his feet with nothing but contempt. "Pathetic." Ignoring the plight of his own men, knowing the males Kell'Var commanded would hardly keep fighting without their leader, Kuzial turns and stalks back to Sophie's side, his bloodied weapons still in hand. He kneels down beside her and harshly demands, with no interest at all towards her own wound, "Heal me, elf..." The woods begin to grow silent once more as the battle between dark elves stops, though knowing the unpredictable temper of their master, none of Kuzial's failed scouts dares to come forward and ask for further commands. They would continue with their scouting in silence, praying to Astrala they would be alive to see the birth of another day.
Kell'Var hisses out one word as the life flees his torn and ruptured body "...traitor..." and soon his companions too fall beneath the blades of the more numerous drow allied to Kuzial. Sage Forest is silent for a moment, before nature, uncaring, continues its chorus of birdcalls, rustling leaves, and the whirring and chirruping of various insects
Sophie the healer quietly replies. "Yes Patron Kuzial." There is still terror in the elf's voice when she addresses her drow lord, but at least she is no longer trembling. She pulls herself up into a seated position her face twisted with agony as she does so, though she makes no sound to indicate that she is in pain. She channels a little healing energy into the shoulder, and into healing the many lesser wounds with which he is covered, then pauses. "My lord. Your humble servant will need to remove the blade from your wound. May I offer you a potion to lessen the pain before I do so? In any case, this lowly one most respectfully begs forgiveness in advance for any discomfort she may inadvertently cause?" She frightened woman await's her patient's reply before proceeding.
Kuzial snarls, "Just tear the bastard thing out, elf. Something like this!" The fine dagger is returned to his belt, before the patron of House Stavret reaches out and wraps his hand around the bolt sticking from her leg. With a vicious lack of caring her pulls with all his strength, tearing the wood free and giving birth to a small sanguine flower that flows from the injured elf's limb. With a smile born of sadistic hate the dark elf speaks again, "Your turn, elf." The bolt is placed into Kuzial's belt, though what nefarious plans he has for Sophie's blood isn't known to any, probably even to him.
Sophie screams in agony as without warning the deeply embedded missile is torn from her leg, further tearing her muscles and skin. She is bleeding profusely and for the moment in far too much pain to continue to treat the drow, or even to act to staunch her own bloodloss. She just continues to scream mindlessly in pain and shock.
Kuzial basks for a moment in the flowing agony of Sophie - her horrendous scream of anguish doing great things to numb his own vicious pain, caused by the khukri still sticking from his shoulder. He lets the sound, which would be horrific to any ear that wasn't owned by a drow, resound for a long moment, before finally having enough. He wanted this woman alive, and needed her to heal him before the dagger did further damage. So with the callous hatred that makes up every part of this young patron, he grabs Sophie's vest and pulls her up so their faces are inches apart. Madly glowing crimson orbs meet the pain-filled depths of Sophie's green-hued eyes and he speaks in a voice that carries only to her. "Listen to me, you whore of an elf. You will cease your screaming before you bring forth every other dark elf in the forest. You will heal me, then heal yourself, and only then will we take your pathetic, useless kin to their safety. More than your own life hangs on a knife edge.. A knife held by the hands of my own brethren. Do not try to rely on drow mercy or drow incompetence to survive, for you will live a short life indeed."
Sophie stops her screaming and recovers control of herself enough to speak though her terror is now absolute. "My lord. May this wretched one beg permission to act to stop my own bleeding before I continue to treat your honoured self. I fear that if I do not I will probably be dead from loss of blood in some minutes, before I would have time to completely heal you sir." Despite this fact she will await his permission before making any attempt to treat herself. After all there are far worse things than bleeding to death, and a drow noble angry at being disobeyed knows all about those worse things. The healer is terrified of seeing her wood elf cousins slain and once more herself seeing the inside of a drow torture chamber.
Kuzial snarls in growing rage. "Be quick about it, elf!" He ponders tearing the dagger out of his own shoulder and driving it through her throat; he would quite enjoy the irony. But he shows great restraint by letting her vest go and allowing her time to heal her own, far worse off, no thanks to Kuzial, wound.
Sophie sits and quickly grabs her healers kit, working frantically with no regard for long term care of the wound, just intent on staunching the bleeding before the drow Patron becomes even more enraged. When she has tied a pad tightly in place to staunch the bleeding. She pulls herself to her feet using the trunk of a nearby tree to aid her in doing so, and then to lean upon to prevent her once more collapsing. With clean pads and bandages nearby ready to staunch the drow's own bleeding, she grabs the handle of the short curved blade with both hands and pulls hard. She manages to remove the weapon, but doubtless causes the already angry drow much pain in the process.
Kuzial groans in agony as the weapon is torn from his shoulder. Without conscious thought he shifts to the left and punches the tree that Sophie leans on in an effort to drive away the pain. It is a primal gesture, though, and now with a few splinters in his knuckles of his uninjured arm he manages to calm down. "You... smile... at my pain... You die..." The words are snarled through clenched teeth as blood once again freely flows down his chest. But he doesn't collapse. He lets the healer cast her magic and use her more mundane skills to staunch the bleeding, so he can get the disgusting business of helping elves over and done with... It seems Kell'Var's final word resonated in the twisted soul of Kuzial Stavret.
Sophie has a kind gentle heart and has never smiled or laughed at another's pain in her life, though such a concept is likely alien to the drow.The healer quickly wraps up the drow's shoulder to stop his own bloodloss, taking far more care than she did with covering her own wound she then gently lays her hands on his torso and channels a great deal of healing energy to knit his wounds back together. This process is exhausting at the best of times, and the elf is weak, in pain and wounded. When the drow's healing is perhaps two thirds of the way to completion she is no longer able to stand, even leaning against the tree for support, she collapses back to the forest floor. Not even wanting to attempt to regain her feet in her weak state, but terrified of the consequences of not healing her drow lord to his satisfaction, the elf servant once more reaches out, laying a hand on his nearest ankle and channeling more energy to continue to heal his wounds. It should be noted that said healing power is flowing more slowly now due to Sophie's weakness and near exhaustion.
Kuzial feels the unique mixture of soothing and disgust that comes from having his slashes healed. The skin knitting back together feels putrid, but the warmth that comes from his body repairing itself is pleasant even to one so unused to anything nice. As Sophie collapses, before carrying on trying to heal him, the patron has had enough and tears his ankle free. "Your worth makes this worthwhile, elf." He smiles one of his ugly grins filled with no passion other than hatred, before barking out commands to the elves who are still hidden amongst the trees. "Come, idiots. Pick up this woman who so bartered for your freedom! We wait no longer. You will carry her... carefully..." His words are a rather unsubtle threat... aren't all drow words that way? "And we will take you to safety. The sight of this forest offends me..." One of the males who wasn't injured moves forward and glares at the weapon master for just a moment, before bending down and carefully picking up the wounded Sophie. Kuzial returns the glare with a challenging sneer, before turning on his heel and stalking off towards Frostmaw, and in his wake the reluctant elves have no choice but to follow...
Sophie gasps quietly in pain as she is lifted and carried. She whispers her thanks to the elf who is carrying her, and does her best to rest and regain some strength, despite then odd jarring step the male elf takes causing pain to flood her mind once more periodically.
Kuzial leads the elves through the forest by the most direct route possible. His scouts occasionally appear in the distance and flash hand signals to tell the patron drow the way is clear, but in his current mood this causes Kuzial to grow more and more angry. Traitor indeed... All drow understand that personal profit is the driving force behind all actions. More than once he ponders turning on his heel and murdering the children one by one - their screams would so fire his blood - but having a healer on hand, one who is so formidable in her soothing magic, is a price worth the inconvenience of having to actually help the elven kind. And so they wander the forests of Sage, and then through the more mountainous regions of Xalious (taking special care to stay far from the mage's guild, 'less Tiphareth be in residence) and ever closer to the edges of Frostmaw's snowy peaks. And just as they are in sight, Kuzial would go back and speak to Sophie, ignoring completely the elf who carries her. "No drow are beyond us now, healer. My end of our pact is done..." The patron of House Stavret reaches into his belt and draws forth a small pendant. It depicts a blind drow being circled by two large spiders - it is the insignia of House Stavret. He puts it around Sophie's neck and speaks again to her, though this time more quietly. "We are linked now. If you remove that pendant, I will know, and you will suffer. With it around your neck, you can call my name and I will hear it, just as you will hear if I call you. Let none know you are in possession of it. Many would kill to own a drow insignia."
Sophie lowers her head respectfully."My thanks Patron Kuzial. Your loyal servant shall do as you command."
Kuzial nods once at the healer, before speaking to the male elf holding her. "You will take Sophie the healer to the safety you seek, and you will ensure she is healed by whatever druids follow you. Do not fail me." He glares for a moment at the man, showing him the depths of his malicious, before spinning on his heel and stalking away. Far earlier than should be possible, Kuzial has faded into the many shadows that surround the mountains and is soon long gone from the foot of Frostmaw's icy mountains.