RP:Unwilling Assailants

Part of the Surface Tension Arc

Synopsis: Towards the beginning of the Battle in Sage, Laezila and her forces meet with Krice. Neither seem happy about this meeting. Laezila tells Krice to leave, the latter makes the same request. Eventually, needing to complete what is required of her, the matron of House D'l'Sel D'issan sets her lycanthrope soldiers on Krice and continues into the forest.

(Note: Continued in When Fire Fought Fire... With Fire?)

Sage Forest

The sunlight was harsh on the red eyes of the drow soldiers that had to grow accustomed to it, who were far too armored for a simple scouting sojourn into the forests of Sage where rebellious elves were rumored to be lurking. There wasn't great numbers, but an even ten; they were not incredibly quiet as they moved with the accompanying sounds of darksteel platemail and chainmail, as black as the darkness that they were far more comfortable in. The soldiers neither moved in an orderly formation nor tried to linger too long from the shadows and shade of the trees from the oppressive sun above. In fact, they moved in a manner that was far more akin to a pack of prowling wolves, which was only the initial evidence of their association with House D'l'Sel D'issan -the 'Outcast House'. All ten soldiers were larger, more muscular than the normal of drow physiology, but that could also be attributed to their lycanthropism which was further made evident by enlarged and intimidating canine teeth that seemed to nearly not fit in their mouths. But there was another figure in contrast to them that walked in the light just as well as the shadow with a slender, diminutive female form. The light hardly had any disadvantage to her unnaturally azure eyes that bore out from the eyeholes of a white, smooth, and faceless mask. Where the sound of armor and the suppressed growls of the force she led filled the ambience of the air, the teenage matron was silent and contemplative as she walked with a predatory gait.

A figure familiar to that diminutive woman stood on the blind-side of a tree, revealed to all in the drow party as they passed it. He was without panic or malice despite the situation, white-skinned as he was, with eyes as red as theirs but decidedly more human. Though his katana rested well within reach as always, strapped to his back, the man did not seek to withdraw it; he was naturally calm unless provoked, and showed as much now, even though numerous enemies approached. Gilded eyes shifted through the haze of the forest to land upon the woman ensconced by those other males, his expression mostly indifferent but harbouring hints of curiosity. What was this large cluster of cave-creatures doing above the surface? What was their intention? Perhaps they had come to fight in the war against the wood-elves; this revelation darkened the warrior's expression yet he still did not move against them.

They certain had; they were the party that was resolved to root out the elven menace and exterminate them, and were chosen not only for their tracking affinity but their ruthlessness as well. All the drow knew the House D'l'Sel D'issan desired much more to be feared among their kind rather than rule, and the suppressed growls and almost primal nature of the soldiers did not hurt that image. Of course they had seen Krice, they had actually picked up the scent of the steel-haired warrior awhile back; he was neither elf nor seemed hostile, though that didn't stop several of the soldiers from growling at the smaller form of the lean swordsman. One even had his blade drawn, and began to move menacingly toward the male, which drew the attention and approach of two more. That is, until a soft and feminine voice said, slightly augmented and otherworldly from the design of the mask, "Hold." They all immediately fell still, continuing to growl though, before they stepped away and revealed the approaching form of Laezila, "Krice. You shouldn't be here."

Krice didn't react to the aggression shown by that trio of drow warriors, for he was fixated on Laezila. As she emerged from the small gathering that surrounded her, the warrior lifted his chin and took a casual pair of steps clear of that tree to level himself with her, gold-freckled eyes locked on her face " This is the land of surface-dwellers," was his answer, spoken smoothly and succinctly without emotion to support it either way - neither malice nor sadness swaying his tone. " I'm a surface-dweller. I'm exactly where I -should- be." After a moment, the man's gaze drifted off the masked face of the female to the eyes of the men who surrounded her, watching them in a relaxed and observant manner. The soldiers around them all were growling and sounded more like an encircling pack of rapid animals rather than soldiers, though their armor and vicious weapons spoke otherwise. "No, you do not understand," she said, before she looked to the side, as if over her shoulder, "Leave us." She commanded the ten. They didn't obey at first, but instead looked at one another with a bit of surprise, "Now." She said more firmly. Immediately, they began to disperse throughout the forest; anywhere but where the swordsman and matron stood. Her blue gaze turned back to Krice, "Please, Krice. The surface elves have been picking off our troops, it's dangerous here." Because, of course, they were the source of the danger. Not Laezila and her forces.

Krice was on the verge of snarling at the men who growled his way, not because he was stooping to their level, but because their level disgusted him. Ridiculous behaviour. As they dispersed, the warrior watched the drow soldiers until his name was spoken again by the woman who stood in front of him. His gaze was soft at first, almost as if the plea in her tone had drawn him toward her without the veil of the threat she and her men posed, but a calm blink reinstated the guardedness there and he lifted his chin, regarding the woman along the length of his nose. " The surface elves do not wish to harm me - only those who threaten them." He nodded left, right, and then regarded Laezila again, gaze unwavering and tone just so. " Dark elves have been patrolling their lands for months on end, attacking where they see fit.- Your- people are the intruders, the aggressors, not the surface elves who live here."

Laezila blinked through those eyeholes with that azure stare, and even drew back slightly, hardening her voice just a hint. "-My- people would rather be beneath the surface. -I- would rather be in the open sun, I would rather be beautiful and not have to wear a mask. But we don't get what we want, and you don't refuse the First House without a death wish, and a death wish of your people. Your family." One tightly-gloved hand gestured, before she boldly stepped forward and pressed it against the man's chest, "I have scraped and scrapped to provide a place for these drow, these that would be killed had I not, gave them a family to call their own. A place in the Underdark. Yes, some might be killed, but that is the better alternative to all of them being slaughtered by D'Artes." She withdrew her hand as if she had touched him when forbidden, "You should not be here, Krice."

Krice stiffened when Laezila's hand found his chest, a touch he hardly welcomed but didn't shirk; after all, the warrior had no issue with her, directly. The woman's defensive reply was acknowledged with the simple furrowing of a brow. By the end, he spoke a reply that refuted her warning, " If I'm in danger, it's from the drow, not the elves. Don't tell me again where I shouldn't be." With the drow woman withdrawing her hand, the surface warrior felt no need to physically push her away. Turning his head, he sought out the locations of her soldiers with a sweeping, slow glance into the shadows of the forest.

The teenaged matron shook her head, causing those glittering white tresses to shake around her features, "Please don't, Krice, I don't want to fight you," she pleaded softly- enough that even her lycan warriors would not be able to hear, yet the warrior's keen senses would because of their proximity. A few of the soldiers could still be seen, a few out of the vantage of the swordsman by the obstacles of tree trunks and foilage in the way. The last of the soldiers were simply too far out to be seen. "You're going to fight, aren't you?" Krice had located all of the soldiers, despite that he could not see them all from his vantage point. Laezila earned his gaze once more with her pleas, and it wasn't a look of aggression or defiance that he gave her, but one of distant apprehension. " This is a war that affects everyone. I'll fight if I have to."

A distinct sound came from Laezila, partly muffled by her mask; it was a sniffle. She shook her head, then lifted it with blue eyes slightly reddened by grief. "I cannot retreat. So if you're to fight us, you best strike me down now."

Krice lowered his haze over Laezila's face as she spoke, and perhaps in deference to the change in her mood, the sadness if that, the man's own demeanour softened slightly. His voice was quieter when he murmured his response. " I won't strike down non-aggressors." He wouldn't simply attack a woman standing passively before him.

"Non-aggressor?" She shook her head, "You have no idea why I'm here, do you?" The matron asked him pointedly.

Krice didn't need to be asked that question, and thus, he did not answer it. " If you raise your blade to me, I will strike you down." Did she understand him then? " If you and yours attack surface dwellers, I will respond in their defence." He fell silent shortly afterward, his gilded eyes softening with regret. " This war is needless. You can coexist. Most of the surface dwellers -want- to coexist. Why can't you?"

Laezila certainly understood him, and again that sniffling sound came, just very softly and subtly, as she turned away from Krice. "Because when you refuse the First House, you die with the rest of your own. We have to do this. Please leave, Krice, please please." In the natural daylight of southern Sage, Laezila's azure gaze was set to the forest through the eyeholes of her white and faceless mask with her back to Krice. All ten lycan drow soldiers, outfitted in the darksteel platemail layered with chainmail and wielding drow-forged weapons of varying style -swords, scimitars, axes- were scattered around the two, suppressing their instinctive growls as they repeatedly took the scent of the air in attempt to discern the location of any elves nearby. The 'click' of the bladed and slightly armored right glove, as opposed to the tight cloth of the unarmed other, give evidence that her weapon had been present all the while. "I have to burn this forest. I love you, Krice, but I have a responsibility to my people. I can't let you get hurt." One of the lycan drow, having shifted into a large, armored anthropomorphic, violently flew at the steel-haired swordsman in attempt to bodily crash into him, as the other nine closed in.

Krice sensed that he was running out of time; Laezila's soldiers would not leave them alone forever. The woman's pledge to burn down the forest engaged him more than did her profession of love for him, but he had little time to respond. Before the intensity in his eyes could become words or actions against the woman, his periphery caught sight of the drow-wolf as it leapt into the air. Rather than standing there and waiting for the beast to crash into him, the seasoned warrior took a hastening step back, ducked, and twisted low to the ground, avoiding the jaws of the animal - though barely; its claws sliced through the right shoulder of his shirt, tearing open the fabric. The flesh beneath was untouched but the closeness of the encounter still drew his attention as if to check. The werewolf was regathering himself quickly, which left the man but a few seconds to seek out Laezila. She was already out of reach, and other drow lycans were already closing in on him and he had no choice but to engage them. It was with regret and subdued frustration that he let Laezila depart, his focus shifting over to the werewolves who surrounded him.