RP:The Price of Freedom

From HollowWiki

Part of the Surface Tension Arc



Synopsis: In exchange for Krice's freedom, Laezila promises to bring Gevurah an important elf. Spying Skylei travesring the Xalious mountains and recognising her from the drow-elf conflicts, deems her a worthy prize for Gevurah. Skylei is attacked, knocked out and taken to Trist'oth.


Northern Highlands

Skylei ’s travelling down from Frostmaw towards the more populated and forgiving towns of Hollow. She’s alone, naturally. Skylei prefers to move alone; quicker, simpler and means that she is not required to engage in fruitless conversation across ever hour of every day that they journey. In her bag are three letters, each one addressed to a separate elven elder located in three different cities. Guess which halfblooded bastard drew the short straw and thus is required to deliver each one? Dressed normally with the addition of a thick white coat to warm her person, Skylei cuts a stark figure against the blacks and browns of the landscape as she moves with careful steps across the unforgiving crags of the mountainside.


There was something different about this approach, though; it could've been the unsettling feeling that was drawn over the area, or the nagging intuition that something bad was going to happen. Far more camoflauged into the background of blacks and browns was mottled black and deep brown fur of anthro lycans, who ran in a pack behind her like monstrous hunting houds. And even further back, gracefully moving along the rocky terrain of the mountainside in trail of these lycanthrope drow, draped in black and with a stark, familiar, smooth and faceless mask of contrasting burnt black and ivory white.


Skylei feels movement in the earth below her feet. Suddenly alert, her eyes sweep across the descent of ground before her as well as the snowbound territory that she had left behind her. In land like this you are far more likely to meet foe than friend. More common foes than lycanthropes are bears and thus at the move of the ground and thus she arms herself as she sweeps the land, taking bow from her back and shifting her belt so that her daggers are far more easily accessible. But this land is unfamiliar and thus she struggles to spot the lycanthropes moving across the ground below her. It’s bewildering, that’s for sure. The only indication that there is something amiss here is that mask that the matron wears, the white half standing as stark against the mountainside as Skylei’s own coat. But that could be snow. Just a little peak of snow a little further southwards than she expected… and moving…


Laezila's azure eyes narrowed to fix on the more easily contrasted form of Skylei, since her white cloak stood out against the backdrop of darker hues, keenly her gaze in the air and without a hitch in the fluidity of her agile, graceful step. She had endured a lot since their last battle, and it hardened the heart of the enigmatic and young drow matron; this was the price for Krice's freedom from D'Artes, after all. The sudden and violent sound of barking and panting gave indication to the lycans, who were closing in and much, much closer than Laezila.


Skylei realises too little, too late. She realises the presence of Laezila’s lycans by the barking and panting that fill the air when they are close and ever moving closer. Skylei has nowhere to run at this point. The land is craggy and unstable beneath her feet and it matters little anyway; how could she out run a pack of lycans? Every moment of indecision costs the half-blood dearly. Every moment that she doesn’t strike is a second wasted as they continue their run. Her attention is torn away by the whiteness moving in the distance. That is when she makes the horrible realisation. The woman with a face marked in black and white flanked by lycanthropes. Skylei may not know her name, but she recognises the matron and her mercenaries. No more thought, Skylei loads her bow and pings off a number of fire-lit projectiles in the direction of the onslaught of lycans.


Laezila did not have much interaction with elves, and certainly had never taken one alive before, but how much more difficult could it be than tearing one apart? That, after all, was what the House D'l'Sel D'issan excelled at; they were the most ruthless and most brutal of forces. The last prisoner, Krice, was taken as a fluke, mostly, on the whim of the matron in an attempt to nurse him back to health rather than keep him confined, though events spiraled from there; he was nothing she thought he would be, and although she still yearned for his affection, had now given up on receiving it. Yet she would honor Gevurah's willingness to part with the mysterious swordsman, and deliver an elf hostage. She did not know Skylei's name, but knew her as an elf that directly fought the drow matron and lived; something she could not abide, that she must punish. Though she didn't know it, it was appropriate that Skylei was a half-breed to be targetted by a House of half-breeds, diseased, crippled, and outcasted. The lycans closed in, and the proximity of their approach coupled with their brutal pace made the arrows both wildly dangerous and relatively useless, randomly. The first arrow struck perfect in the shoulder of the furred beast, which caused it's arm to go out from under it and face to crash into the earth, sliding in an upturn of dust. The second struck against one of the four remaining lycans' pauldrons, and shattered over the force of the darksteel armor in a rain of splinters and dust behind him. Another lycan left the ground, launched in a barreling shoulder-charge toward Skylei's smaller, frailer body.


The effects of her arrows are minimal and Skylei is left with no time more to protect herself before the onslaught of lycan attack reaches her. The crash of a lycan into her frame sends her entire body flying backwards with brutal force. Tucking her head into her chest, the half-bred allows that near overwhelming force to send her spinning head over heel backwards until she has completed a full rotation. Though her knees bump and scrape the floor and draw blood, her elven agility allows her to land in a mostly upright position, saving her vital parts from major trauma against the harsh craggy floor. It does, unfortunately, send her bow flying well away from her person, leaving her without her favoured weapon. Physically vulnerable, and much weaker than her assailants, Skylei turns to last ditch attempts to keep them away; two knives are thrown towards the neck of the lycan who had attempted to charge her into the ground. Then she does something potentially stupid. Reaching into all her mana reserves, the half-elf creates a firey barrier that spans from her neck to her waist. Every inch of her torso is wrapped in a cloak of flames that emanate purely from Skylei’s own being; the only reason that she isn’t screaming in agony. The fire is hot, that’s for sure, and she hopes it’s a large enough incentive not to body slam her petite frame again.


These weren't exactly stupid lycans, despite their bestial forms of anthromorphic wolves and drow men, and were doned with armor especially layered with plating in order to expand and contract according to the size of their body in shifting; their ears were flat, their teeth bared, even the one that had attacked the woman had rolled in the wake of the antic and whirled to face her. Unfortunately, his growl was cut off by the sudden whine from the impalement of two knives into its neck, which sent blood spraying and his form shifting back into a drow as he toppled over in a heap. His dead, armored carcass limply tumbled down the mountainside. This did not even deter the others, surprisingly, as they formed a loose circle around the elf and cut off her escape route. It was at this time that the young, lithe, and masked teenage form of the drow matron Laezila approached in a slow, predatory gait. There was no evidence of her expression beyond that mask or the striking blue eyes that bore their stare upon the elf from eyeholes, half of the ivory piece burnt to a blackened hue. A hand lifted, both gloved and slender, but it was not to attack -rather, it was a signal. One of the lycan drow to Skylei's right abruptly flung his weapon forward, revealing as it uncoiled to be a steel-coiled net. It was with fairly precise aim that he flung it, and the steel balls at the ends sought to keep their momentum, and entangle the legs of the woman.


Skylei is running out of options and running out of options fast. Her bow is out of her reach, her knives may have impaled a lycan, but now are a long way from her hands and her mana control weakening second by second. She can’t fight for much longer. So what can she do? She turns to look behind her to flee back up the mountain and seek refuge in Frostmaw, but finds every escape route blocked off by lycans. It’s like a bad film; she takes two steps in one direction and two steps in another, desperately searching for a way out of this horrendous predicament finding lycanthrope after lycanthrope blocking every path. She could attempt to ram into one of the lycans and make a break for freedom, but each is heavily armoured and she’d likely to do little more than shatter her shoulder against the . Surrounded by lycans, with nowhere to run what can Skylei do but panic and struggle; it feels like game over. She only half-heartedly attempts to avoid that steel coiled net and those attempts fail horribly. The momentum of the steel near enough knocks her from the ground. Though she might be making little attempt to escape, she grits her teeth and looks defiantly at the masked matron, almost daring her to do her worst. She doesn’t know Laezila’s true aim and thus assumes that today is the day that she will finally meet her death. She will not beg, or scream or cry, she just prays that whatever awaits her is quick.


The matron watched from behind her mask, which veiled any emotion or degree of sympathy she could've (maybe) had for the woman that she had personally fought against -but Laezila was far more prepared in this case, and sought no honorable combat. Thus it was with the pack of lycans that she had hunted Skylei in order to ensure a victorious capture, and their ruthlessness was just as merciless as their efficiency. As she looked defiantly at the matron, one such lycan leap in behind her with a swing at the back of her head intended to knock her out; it was only after which that they'd bind her ankles and wrists and then haul her into the Underdark, led by the young drow woman.