RP:Just Another Typical Example of Drow on Drow Violence

From HollowWiki

Synopsis: Donatien and his slave Bathroy were riding through the Xalious Mountain pass, minding their own business, when they had the misfortune to land in Gevurah's sights. A thoroughbred drow noble, she is pathologically short-tempered, and easily offends at any hint of irreverence in those beneath her station. Her mood quickly shifted from watchful to vengeful. It wasn't long (we're talking minutes here) before the encounter escalated into a full-blown fight.

Donatien, a death knight, succeeded in turning three of Gevurah's guards on each other. One was badly wounded. Gevurah inflicted enough pain on Donatien and his undead priestess slave Bathroy to free her men from his spell. Her rogues then engaged Donatien in hand-to-hand combat. One of them succeeded in landing a throwing knife in Donatien's back. Bathroy launched a wall of flames at Gevurah, but the drow, determined to end the slave, barreled through it with magical protection in order to deliver true death to the undead priestess. The drow noble missed. Bathroy shot back a magic beam which Gevurah believed she had avoided, but which bounced off the stone face of the mountain, hit Gevurah in the back, and chewed through her armor and part of her flesh and muscles.

With the battle attracting the attention of Xalious Guard, and Tiphareth by proxy, Gevurah flees the scene in order to avoid discovery and the First Patron's questions.

Drow translator used in rp: http://www.eilistraee.com/chosen/language.php

Mountain Path

Donatien 's entrance is foretold by the sound of horse shoes thudding along the dirt path below at a slow leisurely pace. The drow rides in full armor with the exception of his helm, behind him a woman figure dressed in priestess clothes with a vail covering over her visage. The horse below, a tall sturdy beast, with a mane of fire and eyes a dancing flame. Headed from the west the two ride in silence with only the sound of the trotting below them.


Gevurah scans the road from a high vantage point on a ledge. The drowess’s piwafwi hood casts a shadow across her face. Her glowing red stare searches for elven prey, but finds something unsettling. A male drow on a horse? The bile rises in her throat. How disgusting. The priestess in tow behind a warrior flips the hierarchy, and Gevurah’s mood. Foul tempered, she flashes from watchful to vengeful in a second and throws a stone towards the horses’s hooves. The noble levitates above her ledge and shouts down at Donatien in the drow tongue, “From which low-house did you slither out of, low-born?”


Donatien pulls the reigns on the mare and turns his gaze looking over to stones origin. The knight's lips form into a smile. “Gein do dinok rah supporters, fent mu lost bit do moor voth ek?” the priestess slides from the horse and down to the ground, where upon standing the sigil of Arrecation shows clearly. Swinging his leg back behind him, the pseudo-drow drops from the horse second and stands firmly. The vailed priestess moves heading to the horses rear when she is halted by a motion of Donatiens hand. The drow places his hand upon the hilt of his sword but doesn't draw, just a simple resting place. “ L'qu'ellar Usstan doer dal uriu verve yol tlus wiped dal nindol thac'zil. Lu'udos ph'naut wun l'harl olath ji kyorl dosst tone.”


Gevurah snarls at the incomprehensible tongue. “Xuat telanth ilythiiri, xun dos?” She raises a palm towards Donatien in the universal symbol for ‘wait.’ She murmurs an incantation under her breath, asking her god to grant her the power to comprehend languages. That spell, rarely used and asked for in the Underdark, has proven to be quite useful up here, in the land of the chatty and multilingual. She snaps impatiently, signalling for him to speak again. “Telanth 'sohna, v'utir.”


Donatien laughs “Usstan xun telanth ilythiiri, ph'dos un izil ulu ankonnuz'ka ol?” he then shakes his head “ Vel'bol xun dos ssinssrin? Dos phuul brane'uns'aa” The drow turns to the priestess and nods. She pulls down her vail and her hood, revealing her elven features. She lowers her head and begins to speak softly, as she rises her head, her dead eyes pierce into the drow womans. “If you wish to learn our tongue then do it, but don't cheat by asking your pathetic god to translate for you.” she says coldly.


Gevurah is about to respond to Donatien when the elf begins to speak softly under her breath. As a priestess herself, the drowess immediately sees that as a direct attack and responds accordingly. She signals to her rogues in hiding, three of whom make themselves known along the mountain path’s ridge. They train their arrows on both Donatien and his slave, but wait for Gevurah’s command. “Xuat tlu natha wael. Xun dos naut zhaun vel'uss Usstan tlun?” She taps the insignia of the First House of Trist’oth. “Venorsh dosst darthirii elg'caress lu'tesso uns'aa dosst kaas. Xun dos xund whol jaluss wun l'Har'oloth?”


Donatien 's eyes travel to the three. Still his hand rests gently upon the hilt of his blade, his other hand lowers down to his side moving swiftly “ Vel'bol morfethe dos talinth Usstan kyon vel'uss dos ph'? Lu'dos xal ssinssrin ulu lar dosst nesstren harl, nind vlos dosen't ssrig'luin ulu spill ghil maristo.” as he speaks a cloud of smoke appears around his right hand, when it vanishes the knight seems to be holding something round but the exact item is obscured by his hand.


Gevurah blurts a quick phrase and a grayish blue sphere appears and disappears around her frame, setting in place an invisible shield. Her three archers let loose six arrows, four aimed at the whispering priestess and two at the alleged drow. On the ground, two more assassins move through the natural shadows of the mountain range to attack Donatien and his slave. Gevurah’s fiery temper simmers to the focused discipline of a priest. The drowess shows no sign of panic as she draws a finger in an intricate pattern against her palm. She whispers a lengthy incantation.


Donatien : At the first sight of the hidden drow, Bathory lets out her own trigger word, a moment later a sphere rises around the trio (nightmare included). Donatien raises his hand from his side, in his grasp a humaniod skull aimed in a greenish ray aimed at the drow rogues and moves so that the beam hits over all of them, then back and forth. Each time the ray passes over each of the rogue drow a thought is implemented that implies his allies are going to shoot him, and should shoot them first.


Gevurah thrusts her hand above her head, the drawn-on palm facing her foes. Her voice booms all around them in command. “Lor pholor l'T'aw d'Jiv'undus!” From her palm a glowing back symbol projects before Donatien and Bathroy’s eyes. Donatien may recognize it as the Symbol of Pain, and as soon as he sees it he is susceptible to its power that inflicts crippling pain, which throbs throughout the body and hums the mind mad. The symbol disappears quickly, but its potency remains so long as Gevurah’s command echoes against the mountains’ walls, and echo it does. The command usurps the laws of nature and pummels against Donatien and Bathroy relentlessly “Lor pholor l'T'aw d'Jiv'undus! Lor pholor l'T'aw d'Jiv'undus! Lor pholor l'T'aw d'Jiv'undus!” Gevurah floats above the greenish ray and assesses the madness which takes her men. Donatien succeeded in turning the three arches on each other, and the youngest has already taken an arrow to the knee. The other two race towards each other, firing arrows and ducking, using boulders as shields. With any luck, the symbol of pain will force Donatien to lower his arm in agony. The noble’s tongue begins flicking sibilant syllables against her teeth as she searches for her next spell. The two rogues in the shadows quicken their pace, the first reaching Bathroy and drawing his sword,preparing to strike. The second is moments away.


Donatien and Bathory both drop in pain. Both of Arrecation's followers begin chants of their own after dropping to a single knee. Donatien shatters the skull in his grasp and draws his sword, as its drawn from its sheath it would be easy to mistake the sound for that of screams. Once the blade is fully drawn the spell in which he was chanting finishes and the steal erupts into flames, and charges rushing toward the closest rogue sword lowered down as his speed picks up. As he gets close he thrusts the flaming weapon for the chest of the rogue drow. The elf finishes her prayer, as she raises her head her once black eyes are replaced with a flame, the same as the mare from which the road in on. “Children should learn their place!” she extends her hand, a flame swells at her shoulder then rides down her arm and through her hand then out the same flame takes the shape of a hand which grows as it races towards Vakamrathas' priest. When it would get close enough, it would close around her engulfing her in a wall of flames that close in around her.


Gevurah sees the flames coming and recognizes the spell instantly. Knowing its limits, she decides to continue with her prepared spell rather than wasting it, and precious time, by asking Vakmatharas to dispel Bathroy’s flame. Wrapped in her flame-resistant piwafwi and her magical shield, she barrels through the wall of flames like a bullet in Bathroy’s direction. The magical heat eats away at her shield and kisses her piwafwi. Still uttering the same chant, she touches down on the ground and discards her piwafwi which has caught a few flames. Without her piwafwi and shield, the priestess is much more vulnerable, relying on the simple enchantment of her form-fitting, soft armor. This doesn’t stop the over-confident drow from rushing at Bathroy, arm extended. When she is within five feet of the slave, she shouts “Aphyon ulu l'naut-elghinyrr!” Vakmatharas, the God of Death, delivers his disciple’s wish to bring true death to this undead creature. A short, steel-colored beam shoots from Gevurah’s extended palm towards Bathroy’s chest. As soon as the beam has been released, Gevurah jumps backwards and levitates diagonally away from the fight and the wall of fire which still rages over the ledge. The rogue engaged with Donatien deftly avoids the flaming blade and feints to the right before attacking from the left, aiming for Donatien’s knees to cut him down. The second rogue on the ground joins the fray, throwing a knife towards Donatien’s back. The three archers are out of commission for a few more moments as they try to regain their wits and bearings. They are on the wrong side of the wall of flames, and must circle around it.


Donatien lets out a growl gripping the hilt of his weapon with both hands, lowers his blade catching the drows sword and deflecting it to the side. He slides the blazing weapon along the steel, using his strength and pushing the heavier weapon into the drows sword pressing the heat from the flames his opponents steal. After a moment he lifts the blade up and slams it back down hoping to snap blade in two. He shoots out a glare as he looks to the drow who threw the dagger which now resides with in his back. Bathroy takes the air shooting straight up as she levitates up and away from the beam. She holds out her hand in a challenge and reflects the same spell, though her god being different, the beam of light comes out as a black/purple light which rushes forward the effect of the spell if connected would begin to decay Gevurah upon contact.


Gevurah didn’t imagine that Bathroy could fly. Thus, the spell she was preparing to attack Bathroy and Donatien on the ground must be aborted. It’s useless in the air. She starts to prepare another spell just as Bathroy prepares her counter-attack. With comprehend languages still in effect, Gevurah understands enough of the undead’s prayer to know that she will be launching a similar, focused strike. This advantage allows her to deftly avoid the beam by floating to the right. Unfortunately for Gevurah, there is one major difference between her undead-death beam and Bathroy’s decay-beam. The noble’s evaporates after it misses, but Bathroy’s bounces off the stone face behind Gevurah at just the right angle to hit her in the back. It’s such a lucky shot that it just about disproves the laws of probability, but it happens. Gevurah’s magical robes slow the decay, buying her some time to abort a second spell in a row. She manages to blurt out the prayer to dispel magic just as the beam starts to eat away at the flesh between her shoulder blades. She howls in pain as her exposed, pocked muscles knot and writhe. This prey has proven more difficult than she anticipated, and disposing of them won’t be as quick as she had hoped. Soon the Xalious guards, who work for Tiphareth, will be here. Gevurah cannot risk being seen by them; or more specifically, she would prefer if the First Patron did not know she was here today. Calling upon her training to focus in the face of pain, the priestess prays for an exit as speedy as the wind. She instantly turns vaporous, the mist only a vague outline of her former silhouette. She flees through the labyrinth of boulders, calling her men to follow suit. The rogue who was fighting Donatien black flips away from him. The entire pack disappears as quickly as they appeared.


Donatien lifts up his blade and prepare for a swing as the drow begins to back away. He lets out a roaring laugh letting a bit of green mist escape from his nostrils. The Elf floats higher into the sky and lets out a shout “Run now drow! This is not over!” and with that she lets out a shout that echos through out the realm before lowering down to the ground and moving over to Donatien, she looks over the male and rubs his back removing the dagger from its wound.