RP:Massacre In Sage Forest
The contrast here - for the present, in comparison to what lay before - is stunning. No longer does the stark, barren landscape lie void of life. Now the works of the denizens of the forest and the powers of the Pixie Druids have restored it to the full glory it deserves. A thick carpet of grass lies underfoot, moss and shrubbery making it soft and spongy. You almost feel tempted to remove your shoes if only to run through this lush blanket of greenery as no thorns or briars are visible, but decide against it as unsure who may come across you. This small patch of forest harbours a new feature than before, a glistening pool encircled by trees. The harsh destruction wrecked from the fires split the very earth here but the final effect has been far from detrimental. From the very ground has sprung a clear spring, filling the small crevice with its natural fluids as if the blood of the earth. Walking slowly over to the waters edge, you spot several tiny creatures flitting on ethereal wings about the radiant water, water Nymphs that guard this haven of life and nourishment with their Druidic magic. You cautiously lower a hand to scoop up some of the blessed water, the Nymphs paying little attention as you mean them little harm and upon drinking it down you feel a sudden rush of vitality. It's truly a wondrous act of nature and once again showing its unwillingness to give up. To your north, east and west lay the other patches of new forest whilst the southern route leads to the Old Forest.
Alannah skipped along through the forest toward the spring. Her little black tutu bobbed around her small behind with each light and graceful movement from the tiny elf. Her left side from armpit to waist was nothing but black-blue and yellow bruising, but she seemed to almost not notice it. Thing her obese cat ran along way ahead of the slave, chasing after something.
Falastarian can be seen sitting about the edge of the spring, his animal companion, Ilthaine the dire-bear, grazing upon the lush grass that grows along side the sacred pool. Seven wood elf rangers sit in various places along the grove, each doing idle business as the rest after a long day of patrolling the woods. When Alannah comes up, her tutu gaining more than a few looks from the elven men, Falastarian looks over toward the slave woman with a curious gaze, knowing that as innocent as she looks, she brings with her endless trouble. Calling out to the woman, the druid says. " Greetings Alannah, its good to see you again."
Alannah skidded to a almost stop. The clumsy elf stumbled the last few steps before coming to a complete stop not but two feet away from Falastarian. The woman did not even pay any attention toward the other males sitting along the spring. Mint green eyes fell to stare upon the man whom had spoken to her directly. “Hello, there. Nice to see you too,” she said with a small giggle and a soft smile.
Falastarian returns his gaze to the shimmering depths of the spring before him, saying as he pats Ilthaine upon his head. " I hope to find you well this day, it seems you may have taken a fall or two in your travels." A subtle way of addressing the various bruises that adorn her petite frame.
Alannah frowned and shook her head slowly. “I have not fallen lately. The fox man kicked me.” She stated in blunt terms like the male should of known the injury was not from falling down. Glancing his form up and down she frowned once more, “What happened to your little wrist link?” she questioned curiously.
Tiphareth strolls through the venue, accompanied by his oft present entourage. The group following close behind the Patron seems to be distracted by the wood elves gathered here, their pace slowing as glares narrow upon the others present here.
Falastarian does not remove his gaze from the spring, and replies to the woman. " It was removed." In a very blunt manner.
Alannah shrugged. “Ah, I see.” She flashed him a brief smile before skipping up to take a seat next to spring. “So, how have you been since we last meet? I am sorry about our last encounter. I didn’t really want to hurt you, but I was just doing what I was told to do.” She frowned at him, feeling slightly bad. Not knowing anything about the new male who had arrived she politely ignored him. Maybe that would keep her out of trouble today.
Tiphareth grins upon hearing Falastarian's words, thin ebon lips curling slightly at the corners whilst he peers at the druid. "I see you know of me wood elf. I can not say the same of you." The Eldermage seems to be rather calm, though his assassins are less reserved, visibly agitated by the number of wood elves in their midst.
Falastarian watches as the Drow assassins make their obvious agitation known, only to have it matched by the wood elf rangers own feelings of contempt. Falastarian says in response to the mage's words. " It is wise of a man to know of those in power." The elven druid then says. " It is also wise for a man to know of his enemy, Lord D'Artes."
Alannah watched the two males speaking back and forth. Shrugging it off the little bruised elf got up and headed to skip out of the area. She did not wish to find any trouble today. Heading away from the dark skinned man she waved back at all of them, "Good bye Misters."
Falastarian exhales a deep sigh as the Drow speaks those words, having seen first hand the dozen or so bodies of his kinsmen, skinned and hung like animals. This statement does little to ease the growing tension between the two fractions as well, as the rangers to his rear voice several insulting remarks is response. Falastarian, holding back the surge of emotion that boils beneath the surface, replies. " We are not those men, Patron, and this is not the same circumstance as before." Ilthaine, the druid's animal companion moves to stand beside it's friend, and offers a vicious snarl toward the dark skinned elves.
Tiphareth emits a cruel laugh, shaking his head in a horizontal motion. "Indeed, you are not those men. Those men are dead... though I fail to see how the circumstances are much different. Just more surface elves with an artificially inflated view of their place in the world, parading about with some mock authority from your pathetic excuse for an "arch" druid."
Falastarian seems to remain calm, where as his counterparts become infuriated by the Drow's comment. In a blunt manner Falastarian replies. " The opinions of murderers hold little sway here, Lord D'Artes." Ilthaine grunts in agreement it seems, as one again the rangers make a wide range of remarks, most very vulgar and racists.
Tiphareth narrows his glare upon the druid "What you call murder, I call extermination. Merely a service to the world... and this forest. You really think you or Liana are capable of protecting it." Upon completion of his comments, the Drow entourage seems to be running low on patience. The stealthy warriors begin spreading out, obviously assuming a battle posture.
Falastarian returns the glare with a confident stare of his own, saying only. " I guess we shall have to see then, Eldermage." Before the druid, his animal companion Ilthaine, and the seven rangers respond to the Drow advance by forming a quick defensive perimeter around the spring. Three of the rangers take up their bows, and nocking back an arrow while enchanting it with various degrees of elemental magic. The remaining four bring forth their chosen melee weapons, two wielding twin scimitars of fine make, one an axe and shield and the other a bastard sword. Falastarian himself has no martial weapon to bring forth, but if Tiphareth is as well versed in magic as the rumors say, he would easily feel the fast growing aura of druidic magic that forms about the druid. Tensions are high, but as no direct actions have been taken by the ruler of the underdark, it is not the elves place to attack a political leader without just cause. And while his words have infuriated Falastarian's troops, mere words do not give them the right to attack such a high ranking official. Several moments go by with an eerie silence, the only sound heard is the distant call of an a wolf on the prowl for its next meal this night..
Tiphareth proceeds with a low chant, the archaic words slipping rapidly from his lips as his hands flourish outward, both of the Eldermage's hands work independently as if casting a pair of spells in unison. The Patron's left hand suddenly drives outward with palm extended as the earthen area surrounding the spring suddenly transmutes from solid terra to a loose sticky mud some 3 feet in depth. Just as the opponents drop into the messy viscous liquid the alternate hand thrusts forward with the paired response to his original spell. The gathered energy releases upon the enchanted area as the mud is suddenly returned to it's formerly firm nature. The entourage of assassins awaits this action patiently before quickly rushing forward upon the half buried foes. Various attacks rain down upon the wood elves, some wielding death lances, others with bows and still others utilizing the ever present assassin dagger. Tiphareth himself looks toward Falastarian, the druid obviously leading this group. His energies reeked of nature magic and he assumed the wood elf to be of druidic skill. Tiphareth wished to test the druidic practitioner's skill in the elemental arts and as such he summoned forth a column of water from the nearby spring. Only minor movements were required by the Eldermage to send a torrent of water emerging from the spring. Violently the water swirled about in a column some 5 feet in circumference and 10 feet in height around Falastarian, swirling and churning in hopes of drowning the wood elf where he stands.
Falastarian watches as the occult verses pour from the Eldermage's lips in rapid succession, the arcane magic being felt by the druid as the earth about his feet becomes subject to the Drow's powerful will. Indeed, such an impressive display or magical mastery has the druid somewhat intimidated, for he has faced many foes, and besides the dragon known as Sebias, few opponents have tested the druid both physically and spiritually as arcane spellcasters. The elven ranger's have little time to react, before most fall victim to the Drow's transmutation spell. The few with bows unleash their enchanted arrows upon the advancing Drow as quick as they can, hoping to land a successful blow on the more immediate threats, those being the advancing melee combatants with the lances and daggers. The ranger with the axe is trapped fully, and being the closest to the on coming assault, quickly falls before the blades of two Drow assassins, who take advantage of his situation with merciless glee. The elf with the bastard sword had managed to avoid getting both feet trapped, and is able to defend himself to a better degree than his fallen comrade, and engages one of the Drow in martial combat, matching deadly blows with skillful parries. Another of the rangers fall, this one being one with the scimitars, as he defends the previously mentioned ranger with the bastard sword from a devious sneak attack. The remaining elven rangers, trained and seasoned warriors, now try to go on the offensive as best they can. Ilthaine, the dire bear companion of the druid, even manages to assault one of the Drow as he passes, swiping with furious abandon in an attempt to rend the dark elf's insides out. This leaves Falastarian to Tiphareth's clever assault. While mages are very capable of mastering the elements, they can never achieve the connection that druid's share with nature and its powerful forces. In response to the Eldermage's attack, Falastarian calls upon the winds, pleading with the aloof element to heed his call. And indeed it does, as a sudden and powerful gust of frigid wind sweeps through the glade with tremendous force, the chilling temperature of the air causing the water to freeze, as the two elements combine to form an icy column around the druid. Having already inhaled a deep breath, Falastarian seems to have now entombed himself in a frozen prison. But the truth of his actions becomes apparent within moments, as the previously gathered energies the druid mustered forth before this encounter are unleashed through him, causing the frozen spire to erupt forth, and send a wave of razor sharp ice-shards toward the Eldermage, and his entourage, and sadly, even his own men. The area of the attack is some fifty feet in diameter, and the force of the expulsion is capable of sweeping most grown men off their feet.
Tiphareth prepares himself for the ensuing onslaught, assuming the druid would not succumb to such a basic attack. Little regard is given for the Drow entourage as they rush forward, a pair of leading warriors seems to be caught off guard as the few arrows loosed before the Eldermage's spell come to meet their ebon flesh with a sick piercing noise. Those who have gone to work on the ensnared rangers seem to make short work of the largely defenseless opponents. Those who have defeated opponents quickly rush forth to face the free rangers. The rushing attack is short lived, however, as the druids attack is suddenly released on their form. Minuscule shards of magical ice readily pierce the spaces within their Drow chain armor, precious vitae bleeding forth from beneath their armaments. The more seasoned among them hit the deck before the rushing shards meet them, largely escaping the brunt of the attack. Tiphareth rapidly responds, his preparations beginning as he felt the pressure building within the icy structure. Both hands extend outward with palms toward the sky, quickly he lifts his hands upward in a motion akin to thrusting a window open. The sympathetic gesticulations send a wall of fire suddenly flaring upward into the cool night air. Countless shards rush outward from his enemies attack, though the furious wall of licking flames prove too much for them, leaving the Eldermage rather showered with a spray of mist and steam. The Drow Patron grins once more, rather impressed at the Druids obvious lack of concern for his fellow wood elves. The thought is quickly shaken from his mind as he commences the follow up actions to his enemies attack. Tiphareth grips his House Insignia as a short chant is uttered in hushed tones, the immediate effect not obvious to any but the Eldermage as an arcane portal is opened some 20 feet behind the current mêlée. Mere moments after the gateway's appearance, a flood of 8 additional Drow warriors pour out of the enchanted hole, immediately sneaking from behind as they attempt death blows upon the unsuspecting elves. The Eldermage is not through with his casting, however; as he reaches into his robe, retrieving a small ruby vial the Eldermage casts it with a deft flick of his wrist in Falastarian's direction. The vial breaks on impact near the druid's feet, chorus fluid splashing upward onto his garments. Ancient Drow dialect now resounds from Tiphareth's lips as the spells weaves forth sending a pouring of arachnids out of the fluid. The torrent of spiders cover his opponents lower extremities before simultaneously attempting to pierce the elf with unnatural venom from their enchanted fangs.
Falastarian lands upon the ground with a sickening thud after his spell is unleashed, the devastation caused by his reckless assault leaving a heavy burden upon him that he would have to atone for at a later time. The arrival of more Drow forces overwhelms the small band of elite elven rangers, whose numbers were already dwindling fast. Within moments the rangers, valiant warriors as they are, fall before the well trained Drow assassin squad, a few managing to possibly take one or two with them, though Falastarian is unsure, for he is suddenly plagued by the Eldermage's foul magics once again. The unleashing of the magically created swarm causes a shudder to run up the druid's spine, as these unnatural arachnids assail his form in a wave of horrific proportions. The druid's saving grace comes only in the fact that he is in the embrace of nature herself, and the eternal mother does not forget her children so easily. With the recent transmutation of the earth into mud, and then back into hard packed spoil, Falastarian pleads once again to the elements for their aid. The response is indeed swift, as the prone elf is quickly swallowed by the earth, and taken to the sacred shrine of the ascendi Lauria for protection. Even though the elements responded with surprising celerity, Tiphareth's arcane mastery is not so easily escaped. One of the numerous arachnids manages to puncture the elf's tender flesh, and inject it's vile venom into him. The searing pain of such an unnatural substance sends a pain like no other coursing though the druid's body, resulting in a series of pain filled howls to erupt from his form. With such happenings going on, Ilthaine, the dire bear, flees to the safety of the forest to await his master's return. It seems Tiphareth has won the battle, as the Lord of the Underdark now stands before the fallen bodies of the elven rangers...
Tiphareth watches in disappointment as the druid fades from view beneath the earth, not knowing if the man was alive or dead. The Patron calls out to his men, a number of them now seriously wounded and in dire need of medical care. The Eldermage points toward the previously created portal, his entourage quickly rushing toward the mystic hole before Tiphareth stops them. "Go back, gather up the dead Drow, we do not wish to leave behind such signs of weakness. Bring them to the Underdark and dispose of the bodies. Leave the half buried elves, they will serve a rotting sign of what has transpired here." A motion toward to of his senior men indicates further orders. "You two, your injuries appear to be insignificant, stay back and skin the others and hang their bodies from the trees. Eventually these wood elves will learn their place... either that or the bears of sage will be well fed." With that, the Drow Patron takes his leave of this place, to clean up and lend his mind to future plans.
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