A Deed Most Foul

Part 5 - Tas (March)

The days passed in considerable discomfort for Vognar. With his hands, feet, and neck bound, his muscles burned with the discomfort of carefully holding a semi-stooped posture as he walked the light dappled paths of the Mierani Forest. Any time he stumbled, he was treated to a spear point in the back from one of his escorts, and as if in sympathy with his captors, a cruel tightening of the vines around his extremities and neck.

With each passing day, Vognar did everything he could to catch even a glimpse of Elordria. The blinding image of her beauty kept his feet moving, and bore him through the occasional darkening of his sight due to lack of air. Even the occasional sharp prick of a spear point served only to make him all that much more determined to see that she came through this ordeal in the safety and comfort she deserved. A small growing pressure in his mind, however, reminded him that all was not likely to end well for the two of them.

****

One evening, Elordria brought Vognar a bowl of water and a rag to clean his cuts and bruises incurred during the prodded trek thru the forest. A cool look at the guards caused them to step back from the Elven Noble and Vognar.

Elordria bent down and began blotting Vognar’s head wound. As the Ulfen winced, Elordria whispered, “What will happen now is they will throw you in a cage and question you”.

“Just answer with truth I will speak for my half in this”, Vognar dared a look of warmth towards her but only for a moment, as he noticed Lythar and the other Elves’ gazes bore into him from the other side of the camp.

“Lady Elordria, I am sure he will live”, Kaerishiel stated flatly in Elven, eliciting sneers and quiet laughter from Lythar and the others.

“They,” another Shin’Rakorath called Tolinthar added, pointing to the captive, “would not treat us so kindly if they caught us doing the same in their lands”.

The elf maiden’s stare became cold and composed as she regarded her people as she replied, “Then its good we are not Orodae and that we are better than that.” Her statement seemed to quiet further discontent at her care for the Ulfen.

****

The remaining three days’ pace was fast and brutal as the party and their charge made their way to Crying Leaf. A massive curtain of cultivated and carefully tangled brier-vine walls both protected and obscured the town. As one of the Shin’Rakorath blew on a soundless silver whistle, a section of the vines untangled themselves and magically parted, creating a narrow, thorn protected tunnel into the town. Both on the ground and in the trees, buildings were built with such skill as to make it difficult to determine where the natural features of the terrain, rocks, and trees stopped, and the Elves’ homes and stores began.

Elven warriors lined the path leading into the town, their hard eyes seeming to flay the skin from Vognar as he was marched past them. Despite their glares, Vognar held himself as erect as his bonds would allow, his eyes straight forward as he attempted to steel himself for the ordeal to come.

His eyes did not stay straight for long though, as the beauty of the architecture finally drew the eye, causing Vognar to stagger in abject amazement. Noticing the ever so slight stumble, Elordria gave him a mildly amused sidelong glance, which turned into a frown as a smirking Lythar tugged on the Ulfen’s choker restraints, pulling him further into the village.

Quizzical, confused and even cold elven stares met the Ulfen on the parade to his jail, but he was like a child, amazed and wondering if any of his kin had ever seen such sights.

As they neared the center of the town, Vognar noticed that a large tent had been set up, with armed and armored Shin’Rakorath guards standing post at the entrances. A quick flash of light in the main entrance treated Vognar to a quick glimpse of a stunningly beautiful Elven Lady, dressed fully in gleaming mithral scale. When his eyes fully alighted upon her, he noticed her weighing him for a moment before she turned on her heel and disappeared into the tent. A shudder ran through him, as if her gaze had pierced him to his very soul.

Shortly before reaching the tent, Vognar was firmly turned towards a finely sculpted stone building. Upon entering, he noticed two cells of an unknown, but very sturdy looking wood, both of which were empty. Vognar’s escort pushed him into one of the bent wooden barred cells, and then as four elves with spears covered him, carefully removed the vines from his feet and neck, leaving his hands bound. Once he had coiled the vine, the gaoler stepped back as the bars moved of their own accord to close off the entry hole, preventing egress.

His jail, if it could be called such, was made of thick, live dark wood stronger than steel. Sitting heavily onto the bed, Vognar realized that it was more comfortable than any in which he had previously slept and there was even fresh water to drink. One would think the elves a soft and weak people with such luxuries to spend on a prisoner, however, a week with their finest soldiers had proved to Vognar that they were far from soft; more like quick and quiet like shadows with deadly sharp senses. He had none of their skills but admired them, warily from a distance, as one would a mountain lion.

Looking around, Vognar caught sight of the raven-haired elf that had surprised him in the cave. “I do hope you enjoyed your walk Orodae,” Lythar sneered, “that may be the last time you see the sun.”

After dropping off his traveling kit, Lythar was later assigned to guard the stinky Ulfen by Kaerishiel himself. Sometime later that evening, he used a stick to push a small dish of a simple meal of roasted nuts, roots, and fresh berries to Vognar, who picked it up and settled in to wait his fate.

***

Normally, gaoler duty was assigned to Vaeler or Shaleas. For a Velaes to draw such a task was usually done in penance, or after a demotion. As Lythar worked on an arrow shaft, keeping a wary eye on the large Ulfen, he realized that guard duty would bring the captive before her Ladyship Eviana for judgment and with him, Lythar. To be in Eviana’s presence, even in such a lowly role, would be considered a great honor.

As he turned his attention to a fletching that had come loose during his travels, Lythar’s eyes snapped up as two entirely unexpected visitors entered the jail.

The Ladies Eviana and Elordria appeared to flow in through the door, followed by a retinue of elven Lords including Kaerishiel himself. Snapping to attention, Lythar did not dare speak. Eviana’s voice was melodic like the running of a peaceful stream, her presence like bliss of the heavens itself.

“Has he eaten?” Eviana asked.

Lythar answered only by nodding, thinking it was more than the stinking savage deserved.

Eviana stared at the Velaes as if sensing his thoughts, an idea that unnerved the young Elf warrior. Bowing his head to avoid her gaze, he stood perfectly still as the others filed into the small room as if they where looking at a dirty caged animal.

“Vognar, son of Gilbere and Valda,” Eviana began, “it must have been Thari (fate) that brought you to our fair shores. I have spoken to my daughter and she has told me of the fight that occurred between her people and the dark elves”.

Lythar raised his head at the mention of an enemy more hated than the Ulfen raiders.

“She told me that her team intercepted your people and that you were here for trade. Had you not acted quickly, my daughter would surely have perished after the dark elves had fun with her so I can understand her… gratitude towards you as her savior.”

Lythar’s mouth twisted as he finally heard what must have been the reason for the unholy union he knew had occurred. He knew that no woman of noble blood would ever mingle with a mongrel such as this without it being for pity or gratitude. His smirk was quickly washed away to impassive stoney expression, however, when he was treated to a sidelong warning glare from Kaerishiel.

Eviana’s white dress shimmered in the candle light of the room as she asked, “Do you have anything to add to my daughters testimony”?

To this point, Vognar had been looking down at his bowl the entire time. As he raised his gaze, ice blue eyes like that of a wolf fawned upon Elordria with what everyone in the room could immediately see was love. Kaerishiel and most others stiffened at the notion, all except Eviana and Elordria of course.

“I wish I could agree with your daughter, that my people where here for trade, but it was actually for plunder of the lost city of Celwynvian.” Vognar shook his head as he added, “We never intended on fighting your people, but when both sides were set upon by Dark Elves who seemed more interested in killing your people than my own, my people retreated to the sea.”

Shocked and disgusted looks were exchanged amongst all of the Elves save Elordria, who looked at the floor in shame for her new love. She shook her head slowly, knowing this would not help his case. Noting her daughter’s frustration, Eviana made an effort to compose herself and nodded for Vognar to continue.

“I intended on running but could not allow your dark cousins to have sport with Elordria”. At the familiar mention of her name without respect to title, Vognar suddenly found himself meeting many angry Elven stares. Lady Eviana, however, noted her daughter did not share their anger, and to Eviana’s chagrin, was giving Vognar a loving stare in return.

“So I turned to save her, and with the luck of the gods we found a place where I could tend her wounds and prevent the skilled dark stalkers from finding us”.

The elves whispered a mix of curses and astonishment among themselves, before Lady Eviana brought silence with a raised hand.

“You speak truth, and I would known if you lied, young Orodae. Now, though, we have a problem.” Eviana smiled sadly as she continued, “because only you and one other of your kin escaped the battle. A battle that we must keep quiet at all costs”.

Eager looks broke out amongst the Elven nobles. Even Kaerishiel looked hungrily towards Vognar.

“So then, what shall be your fate, Vognar son of Gilbere and Valda?”

Realizing his fate was out of his own hands Vognar did something foolish.

“What I will say has happened, will be that I led a raid on your people, took an Elven maid as a prize, and I will return home to face the consequences of my failure among my people”. Vognar then regarded Elordria with a pained look, “If this act will protect you and your people, I will live or die with this secret for all of my remaining days, however few”.

A stunned silence fell over the room, as many of the Elves regarded the Ulfen dubiously. Elordria’s eyes welled at the thought of being parted and the stunning sacrifice he was willing to make. Lady Eviana was also at a loss, but knew he meant every word.

Lythar’s jaw actually dropped open in disbelief at the idea that they were actually considering this ludicrous idea.

Eviana drew herself up into the regal pose that all present knew was a signal that she was not to be trifled with. “We will need to talk in private amongst our leaders to consider your noble sacrifice”.

***

Several days later, a dispatch was sent to the Land of the Linnorm Kings that a warlord named Vognar and his men failed in an attempt to raid an elven city. The war leader and sole survivor would be transported to the leaders of his country to face justice.

He would be accompanied by Velaes Lythar, to ensure the ruse worked and to represent the Elven people. Vognar was allowed parting goodbyes to Lady Elordria whom he told not to worry. While his people would brand, banish or indenture him to servitude, he assured her that he would be fine.

He was wrong…

In the Land of the Linnorm Kings… a mockery of a trial with a real execution.

In the Land of the Linnorm Kings… a mockery of a trial with a real execution.

The smoke hazed feast hall had been cleared its oval chamber lit by a hole atop the roof to let out the fire pits emanations’. A shaft lit Vognar, kicked to his knees by burly guards, a large block of wood and chains held his immense arms securely aloft.

“We are here to convene on a troubling matter. One of our own thru his actions has precipitated a war without the approval of the fates and this council!”

The large salt and pepper haired Ulfen, richly dressed, orator gestured to the Kings on the far side of the room, sitting in the shadows.

Darkly regarding the young Ulfen whose head hung low in shame, “This impetuous WHELP, has taken it upon himself to claim a prize out of a noble she elf, further precipitating the ire of the elves of Celwynvian.” Nodding gravely to Lythar who sat like stone to the side of the dark room with other lookers on.

“The world regards us as savages, and this warriors actions and those of ‘his men’ have damaged relations and trade with a friendly nation who we wished nothing but peace”.

‘Peace and trade’, scoffed the elf. Not less than a hundred years ago the Ulfen horde poured into Meirani Forest for looting and pillaging. Most likely this very mans grandfather.

‘Hypocrites’ Lythar mused.

The orator listed many other felonious flaws in Vognars character none of which Lythar had noticed even since capturing and nearly killing the Orodae several months ago.

The only real fault his people could levy against the Ulfen is foolishness that bordered on suicidal tendencies when it came to lack of wisdom in decisions. Trespassing in Elven lands does not warrant death, and although he did not kill a single elf in their forest, he did lay with a noble elven woman, of her own accord, again not a crime where the penalty of death would be warranted, a sound thrashing and banishment from their lands.

The thought of the barbarian and a noble elf lying together still repulsed Lythar. He only glimpsed the sanity of her choice the day Vognar told Lady Evianna and the council of Lords, he would take the blame for the deaths of the Elves of Crying leaf and keep their private war with the Dark Elves secret even unto his death.

‘Impressive for one so young and foolish, this is what the Orodae must mean by ‘Noble Savage’.’
Lythars reverie was broken by the change in tone among the Ulfen, a dangerous change.

‘This did not look good, many of the Kings where there all but the actual one who led his men onto Mierani shores uninvited, Ingimundr the Unruly King of Bildt. That means no one would speak on his behalf.

Speaking in their strange mix of bastardized dwarven / Varisian the leaders debated Vognar’s fate and Lythar could only make out every third word.

The accuser and orator leaned forward to hear the counsel of King’s decision; his large frame went rigid as if not expecting the verdict.

With less pomp to his gate the old warrior stood before Vognar grave tone, “Vognar son of Gilbere and Valda you have been judged by this council to be guilty of all the crimes listed and although the elves of Celwynvian have spared you we will grant them justice to keep the peace between us”.

“The punishment is DEATH, by beheading”! Shocked roar of voices filled the room of on lookers, never has a Ulfen been meted out death for the attack on a non-ulfen, it has been their right to die in combat with honor.

Cries of the unruly crowd only magnified the shocked expression on Lythars face, for the first time Vognars head raised and their eyes met. A strange, look of pain mixed with resignation played across the young condemned orodae.

The room was being cleared by the councils soldiers, Lythar noted the orator leaning forward quietly talking to the young man, a hand on his shoulders comfortingly.

“Is there nothing you wish to say to your defense, my son”?

“I know you, this situation is not of your making, speak truth and they will reconsider”!

Vognar’s blue eyes welled, setting his jaw, “Forgive me father but I have given my word, I cannot speak to my defense on this, I will see you in the afterlife”.

Shaking his head at his boy, the old warrior, his accuser and father stood eyes locked with his son nodding to him, Gilbere father of Vognar strode from the hall to drown his pain in mead and comfort his wife.

Lythar sat frozen during their exchange, only his acute hearing could pick up their words.

As Vognar was led to away, await his execution the following day.

‘By Ketephys, I cannot let this happen’; a plan was forming for Lythar one that would surely be as foolish as the young Ulfen he captured and would now release.

A Deed Most Foul

Part 4 - Ailaesaelol (Intervention)

“Myr!”

Lythar quickly rocked his wrists while raising his forearms, and the falling blade’s tip embedded itself into the log on the far side of Vognar’s neck with a resonating thunk. The blade’s edge was now nearly touching back of the Ulfen’s neck, but the quick reaction had prevented any injury. The female voice that yelled that single word was so full of command authority that Lythar’s subconscious responded before even his brain was able to intervene.

***

The bear had just sat down on its haunches and begun looking towards the cave containing its cubs when Elordria heard unintelligible voices coming from the clearing outside the cave. Able to delay no longer, she hurried outside, rounding the waterfall just as Lythar began his downstroke.

Elordria’s eyes brimmed with tears as her imagination played her worst fears over and over in her head. As she her eyes took in the scene, she blinked to clear the horrific site of her love about to be beheaded. A strange sense of calm flushed through her body as she yelled “STOP” as loudly as she could in Elven, with every fiber of her being willing that the brightly flashing blade would stop in time.

***

Lythar’s head whipped around in shock, his intense gaze causing Elordria to cover herself reflexively. Rocking his powerful shoulders, Lythar pulled his blade out of the log and turned towards Elordia.

“He is Orodae, he has killed our bretheren, and he has defiled a Lady of the Mierani Forest!” Lythar exclaimed angrily. “The penalty for the latter two is death on sight, and you know it!”

“Vognar did no such thing!” Elordria called back, straightening up and striking as regal and authoritative pose as she could in her state of undress.

“Ahh...so it’s Vognar now is it?” hissed back Lythar. “I know not how he has muddled your mind, or what enchantment he has you under, but I’ll take care of it immediately.”

“I demand the right of Thosaeror as the aggrieved party!”

At Elordria’s proclamation, Lythar’s eyes narrowed, however, he once again turned back towards Vognar and raised his blade for the killing stroke.

Elordria’s mouth opened in protest, but before she could try again to turn the enraged elf from his intended action, Kaerishiel strode boldly into the clearing, his Shin’Rakorath fanning out. “Velaes Lythar, I believe the Lady has called for Thosaeror, and you know she has the standing and the authority to do so. His fate is in Lady Eviana’s hands now, not yours.”

“So she does, so it is,” breathed Lythar, lowering his blade slowly and leaning down towards Vognar, “and so it shall be. Lady Eviana will sort you out, and before this is done, you may wish I had been permitted to end it quickly.” Straightening as he turned towards Kaerishiel, Lythar levelled his tone and said, “He will be conveyed safely to Crying Leaf, and with no more harm than he brings upon himself.”

****

Breathing a sigh of relief at Kaerishiel’s interference, Elordria turned back towards the cave to get dressed. As she did so, however, it occurred to her just how hard it would be to open her xenophobic bretherens’ eyes to the true situation. Worry once again flooded through her, and she immediately turned her thoughts towards trying to find a way to keep Vognar alive and unharmed once he reached the Court at Crying Leaf.

****

The vines once again clamped down on Vognar’s windpipe as he was jerked roughly to his feet and held while the elves cleaned up the cave, keeping a wary eye on the adjacent cave containing a still grumbling mama-bear, and began preparations for the journey back to Crying Leaf.

Kyle Ambrose: A night at the Pixie Mix

A night at the Pixie Mix

Kyle Ambrose looked around the bar and smiled. No place finer then a good tavern. And this place wasn’t your average watering hole. This was the Pixie Mix with some of the best brew in all the River Kingdoms. It’s a perfect place to bring the spiritual minded the true words of Cayden. “Drink, Be Merry, and Live The Adventure.” That’s what it’s all about anyways.

You only really got one shot at making a name for yourself and this place is amazing. This town of Uringen even has a disappearing town in the middle of a town. You honestly can’t get much more interesting than that. But I digress I need to see how my new friends are doing.

Walking into the kitchen two men are scrubbing the floor as hard as they can with some of the smallest brushes you have ever seen.

“Hey Gregor have I ever told you any of my amazing stories?” A 6’4 half Ork covered in animal firs looks up from the floor and shakes his head.
“No Kyle I don’t think so”.
“Great!!! I got a good one for you then.”

Kyle hopped up on the counter and began to recite. “My Mother used to talk a lot about my father. I got a million stories about him from her.My Favorite was the time he lost his best horse and half his clothing from an angry Red dragon! But from what My mom says he was drunk a lot while he was adventuring and she says that sometimes you have to look at a human adventure story a bit harder to figure out if it’s true or not. I guess being a beautiful bard did not hurt when it came to gathering all the facts. Turns out my dad was stalking a dragon with some pretty inept adventurers. A tiny one but I’m sure he would say it was one of those Dragons of Legend you hear about all the time. Well they all got a great big fire going was roasting a pig and got a bit drunk.

Well everyone forgot about watch and a loan Kobold wandered into camp and started to steal everything in sight. My dad woke up not able to stand and started to scream TO ARMS TO ARMS!!!! Well his friend Billy was a bit to close to the fire pit and scattered hot embers all over the place Well that Trixie little Kobold stole my dad’s horse and road it as hard and as fast as he could. to make his escape. Turns out the daft little thing forgot about the terrain and road off a cliff with all their supplies. Drunken and on fire the men managed to jump in a creek not far away and put themselves out. You know you Got to love proper planning when dragon hunting I suppose. Hmm my story does make an interesting observation. Makes me believe there is a reason you don’t hear too much in the way of Kobold Cavaliers and Horseman.”

Belly laughing from the floor the giant half-ork and a much shorter human started to laugh.

“Hey Gregor look you missed a spot!” “Oh!!!! I’m so sorry Kyle I didn’t mean too. Please forgive me. This floor is so dirty and this brush you gave me is only so big and I think one of my eyes is swollen shut so it’s a bit hard to see. But I will happily do it all over again if it doesn’t make you happy. I mean we are great friends and all aren’t we?”
Gregor instantly had a very sad expression on his face. “Ahh my good sir of course we are friends! And through the power of my god you have seen just how great friends we actually are.

And you know I love it when you come to town but I have to admit you did start that fight with poor Madren over there.” Kyle looks over at another man hunched over scrubbing the floor with a tiny brush

“You doing ok over there Madren?” “Madren looks up with a lopsided grin with a few teeth missing. Yes my friend. This here is the least I can do for you. Ahh and I appreciate your efforts and I know that Nikka appreciates it as well. Oh and By the way Nikka asked if you wouldn’t swat her on her tiny butt anymore. She is a Gnome after all and if you swat her to hard you might just toss her over the bar by accident and I would so very much hate to see that.”

“Ohh… That would be a tragedy. Thanks for pointing that out Kyle. I sure wouldn’t want that to get in the way of our friendship.” “Oh Madren think nothing of it. Just keep cleaning for a while and everything will be grand! I do know that in about an hour or so Keenan wanted to talk with you about some damages to that chair you hit Gregor with but you great guys can sort all that out later right?” “Of course we can Kyle. I would do anything for you.” “I appreciate that Madren.

Now where was I… Oh Yes! Gregor!”

“Yes Kyle?” “I know that you are in the forest a lot and you don’t get to town much but every time you come we seem to find ourselves in these situations. You know it saddens me when I have to use extreme measures to get you to calm down for the enjoyment of others. I mean last time you chopped enough fire wood for us to last at least a month. That was so nice of you by the way. If you keep this up though I am going to start running out of chores!”

“Kyle you have always been so nice to me even though I don’t really belong anywhere. Humans don’t trust me and they hurt my feelings. Madred called me something pretty horrible in Orkish and suddenly I was holding him in the air and I was just punching away until all his friends tackled me and they hit me with that chair.” “Well Gregor we all have a place in this world by Cayden. I mean I live in two worlds as well. Not an elf and not a human but we all have to get by some how you know. Lots of people have hurt my feelings but I’m a pretty forgiving soul after all so I don’t worry about it overly much.”

“Oh Gregor! One last thing before I let you get back to cleaning the kitchen. I have told you that fighting in the Pixie Mix really upsets Keenan and Zarzukel. I mean those guys put a lot of time into this place and they can’t have you busting it up every time you come in from the forest trapping all those poor animals in those cruel traps you use to get their hides.” “I understand you have to make a living but you have to be nicer to folks in a Holy Place like this. It took a lot of persuading to let you use that brush and not ask you to clean the floor with your tounge. My great friend Zarzukel thought that would be an appropriate punishment after you broke that barrel of some of his finest ale. I would stay away from him for a while ok!” “Sure Kyle anything for you!”

Wandering out in the main part of the Tavern Keenan Dathar, Zarzukel Thistlewhiskey and his sister Nika were stareing with grim expressions on their faces.

“HIS TOUNGE!!! I said I wanted him to clean the floor with his tongue!!!!” Shouted the small gnome in the most boisterous expression I had seen to date.
“Zarzukel relax those two will be scrubbing for the next hour or so and then will have a moment of clarity and very clean hands. And by that time the town Sherriff will arrive to explain exactly what will happen to them both the next time something like this happens. So calm yourself my friend.” Kyle said with a great big smile…

“They have both already compensated the bar with enough coin to replace what was broken and then some. Plus thanks to my God they are happily doing the entire close down chores for the night. I know you wanted to simply beat them senseless Keenan but I think this has the desired effect. People in town will talk about these two for a long while and it keeps the trouble down. No tough guy wants to be brawling one moment and then cleaning the kitchen the next am I right?”
Keenan looked at the ceiling and began to shake his head. “ Lad I do believe you have the spirit of your god in you for coming up with this kind of penalty for bar fighting of all things.”

“Well what can I say? Cayden has blessed me with his benevolent power. And if someone is going to desecrate a sacred barrel of ale I will not stand idly by while they threaten the others.” “Now, if you will excuse me I am off to bed and I will see you all in the morning.” I can only imagine the new set of riff raff that will come in on the marrow. “Good night my friends and sleep well.”

“Ohh and Nika… I know he swatted you on the rump earlier but you didn’t need to hit him in the teeth with that mug while he was unconscious. That was a little mean!”. Nika giving a sly wink just turned around and walked away. Well that’s one gnome I am never going to cross!

On to Uringen

The old hag sat baking in the sun of the market with her dried lissticks laid out like rows of leather strips. She was obviously of Osirian origin but how old none could tell. She looked as if she were one of the mummies freshly unwrapped and set up for display on the small straw palette. She cawed to the passersby and waved her bony arms to draw attention to her wares, periodically spitting to clear her throat.

The market was thick with traders, travelers and hawkers of all kind. Thistlebark cautiously approached the old woman where she sat at one corner of the walkway. He studied her momentarily before catching her attention. When her jaundiced eyes caught his she waved him over and spat through her toothless grin.

"Young traveller," she cackled, "come and have a taste of the finest dried lizard in Katapesh!"

"While your wares appear delectable, crone, I have really come looking for information."

Her amber eyes widened.

"You see, I'm seeking the recipe for a rare healing elixir."

She squinted through heavy leather lids, "There is not anything I can tell you about that. Be off if you're not going to buy something."

Thistle grinned, "Oh, Master Dacron said you may know of someone who had writings of such things. He called it Nightmoss." Thistle pulled a polished gold coin from under his cloak and regarded it casually.

She sucked a short breath between naked gums. "Master Dacron? Well he and I are out of sorts, but I can point you in the right direction." Her eyes gleamed as she regarded the coin Thistle fumbled between his fingers.

"Go on."

She licked parched lips and glanced from side to side. "What you're looking for is in the River Kingdoms to the north. I was there many, many years ago and held council with Erinin Thulgath. Her encampment is known as the Nightmoss camp. You will find her for more information on the plant you seek."

"The River Kingdoms?"

The hag cackled, "Yes! It's a long way from here for such a small creature to to travel alone."

"Don't get any funny ideas, crone. I'm not traveling alone. And I'm certainly not taking you with me."

Tajzh was actively sniffing at the dried lizards and quickly turned up her nose.

"I see you have a unique little companion already. Would you care to purchase a treat for your little pet?" Her toothless grin widened.

"I think these have been out in the sun too long." Tajzh replied indifferently. Her attention began to stray.

"Indeed?" The hag sat forward on her palette, and spat again. "I'd do to have you on a stick you little..."

"That's quite enough!" Thistle dropped the gold coin. "You have been most knowledgeable and helpful. We do wish you well." He turned to go.

"Don't be swayed by the charlatans there little gnomeling! They'll give you hadrock root for bowerleaf if you don't know the difference!" She called after him punctuating it with another spit.

Pushing his way through the crowded market toward the docks Thistle called back to her, "Thank you again, but I do know the difference." He waved at her over his shoulder.

"I'll just bet you do, you little shit," she mumbled to herself tucking the gold coin in her sagging, wrinkled cleavage, "I'll bet you do."

The Journey begins..

Vognar crouched in a shallow hollow of a hillside, repetitively rocking heel to toe, rubbing his chest in a vane effort to keep warm as winds whipped a the meager shelter.

‘I will freeze to death’, his teeth chattered and body shook uncontrollably with clanking of his iron manacles the only respite from the howling blizzard around him

Eyes almost frozen shut, a cloaked outline at the edge of his vision closed on him. The tall form drew was difficult to make out but carried a bow drawn and knocked, dressed in the pelt of white wolf furs and supple leathers, the snow striders’ face obscured in warm cloth to protect against the cold. Vognar was too tired and frozen to fight anymore, in what would most likely be his last moments. Darkness began to overtake him as the frigid drove him to unconsciousness’, slumping to the frozen ground Vognars’ last site was a stoney familiar elfish face… the one known as Lythar of Crying Leaf.

***

Regaining his senses, warmth and pain greeted the groggy Ulfen, who lay covered in furs in a tent made of evergreens, a warm fire and trout smoking near by. Not sure of his surroundings he thought himself back in Mierani Forest with his love.

“Elordria”, croaked the near frost bitten warrior pathetically.

Silence, at first, then movement across the fire caught straining eyes, “No” came a baritone elven voice. Lythar gazed steely at the orodae for a moment then softened only slightly.

“Your lucky to live, I have been tracking you since your flight from your people”, waving his dagger north, then continuing honing an arrow shaft.

Vognar weakly lifted his arms, his rough hands rubbing bruised scabbed wrists where manacles once held him.

He looked at the elven warrior questioningly, Lythar did not look up, “I removed them, for now”, a serious gaze given again at the blond human, apparently he considered leaving them on.

Nodding, thankful, the Ulfen flexing hands to test their strength, leaned forward, “Why did you not let me die, either by my people or the storm”?

Looking at his savior, chewing on some fish the elf offered him, “Your peoples secret would be safe from discovery with my death”.

At first Lythar was silent as was his way, “What honor would my people have if we let you die for a lie”, eyeing his crafted arrows’ trueness, still not gazing at the human.

Smirking over at Vognar, “Besides I only wished to see how far the gods would let your foolishness go on before they let you die”.

“Rest, soon we must make the crossing through Orc infested territory of Belkzin”, wrinkling his sculpted face at the thought, “and head east towards the River Kingdoms where you will be safe from all concerned”. No more to say the two sat in silence.

Vognar contemplated his new companion with appreciation; he would not let this debt of life go unpaid. He recovered quickly and several days later the pair headed across the Hold of Belkzin.

***

Smelling the air Grank wrinkled his grey-green pig-like nose “Man and elf flesh, nearby perhaps in those trees ahead”, pointing ahead for the other orcs in a low growl. The orc tracker seethed at the thought of elves in his lands worse than dwarves and humans combined.

On a ridge above them Vognar crept to the edge, eyeing the three orc poachers pointing at the trees where Lythar hid. They spoke in guttural tones drawing crossbows and fanning out as to surround him.

‘Fools’, Lythars’ plan was working perfectly they headed straight into a trap.

Moving back to his position next to some boulders Vognar strained to see his elven companion who was well hidden in the tree and scrub ahead, waiting for Lythars’ signal, which came in the form of an arrow that embedded itself deep into the lead orc’s thigh.

Roaring in pain, the orc leader raised his crossbow and fired at the brush where the arrow came from missing Lythar who was behind a copse of trees. The orcs companions also loosed bolts and sought cover right underneath Vognars position above them.

Seizing the opportunity he moved to push rocks upon the orcs underneath. His considerable muscles strained, pressing all his strength against the boulders on the edge of the cliff, which seemed not to give. A red haze of frustration and anger covered Vognars eyes; the stones gave way to his rage, hailing down on the orcs below.

Bellowing in surprised pain one orc was instantly crushed beneath a landside of rock leaving dark red and green streaked rocks. The other dropped his crossbow and drew his shield and axe looking up at the source of the rock shower.

A challenging roar erupted from the enraged human above the orcs, and he leapt down at the orc rolling to his feet on the sandy ground. Grabbing a two-handed sword laying next to a now buried orc, Vognars eyes promised death.

Grank turned to face the newest threat but received another arrow for his efforts, this time in his shoulder. A mocking laugh from Lythar, stood out of his cover, drawing his own weapon, charging the wounded orc leader. The glint of his wicked curved elvish blade caught in the dawning light was the last thing the orc saw before losing his ugly head.

Vognar the other orc traded bows the ringing of steel only broken up by the feral roars of both warriors. Circling each other like wolves, the orc swung his battle-axe first drawing a bloody graze across the Ulfens shoulder.

Crazed with bloodlust, fire in his eyes, barely acknowledging the wound, Vognars blade shattered through armor, splitting the orcs stomach open spilling intestines on the ground in a sloppy brownish red heap.

The orc leader had not landed a blow, and Lythar stood over Granks corpse wiping the foul blood off his blade.

The haze left Vognar tired but not spent. However, his survival instincts kicked in, as the Ulfen scavenged armor, the great-sword, and serviceable equipment from dead opponents who would not be needed them.

Both warriors agreed it would be unwise to linger, and headed east as far away from his people and the orc nation as possible… to the River Kingdoms.

A Deed Most Foul

Part 3 - Aelylaes (Encounter)

The fire struggled to banish the morning’s chill, or at least take the edge off of the deep cold a hole in the ground could attain during the winter. If nothing else, it provided a warm, cheery light, though it did little to melt the chill in Elordria’s heart. Remains of the previous night’s dinner (still fish, with a few of the easier to gather nuts and plants to provide a little spice) sat to the side of the fire circle, waiting to be delivered to the now expectant bear.

Elordria, warm in a sleeping roll, and not wearing much of anything after the previous night’s activities, once again began to worry in earnest about what would lay at the end of the journey they were to embark upon this day. How would she possibly justify this to her xenophobic people? Could she manage to sneak out of Mienar Forest with Vognar and attain a safe distance before being noticed by a patrol?

Feeling the waves of worry coming from his beloved, Vognar stood, wearing little more than a loincloth, and gathered the food remnants in preparation to make his way to the cave entrance to give them to their furry, if moderately ill-tempered, neighbor. As Vognar scooped up his great-sword and finished grabbing the last bits of food, Elordria faintly heard the sound of a raven outside the cave. The distinctive sound tickled Elordria’s memory, and while she attempted to sort out her thoughts, Vognar finished his task and disappeared around the bend in the cave.

‘I love her too much to let anything get in the way! Somehow, it will be made to work.’ thought Vognar desperately as he worked his way up to the cave entrance. A dimming of the light streaming in from the entrance caused his eyes to snap up in alarm. The silhouette of a trio of Elves, swords bared, blocked the entrance to the cave. With a wordless roar, Vognar threw the offal from dinner at them and charged, drawing his sword...

Startled by Vognar’s roar, Elordria’s memories snapped into place. The raven call - there weren’t any ravens in the Mierani Forest this time of year, and the pitch and timbre were all wrong. With shock, she realized that call could only mean her brethren had found them. Mortal fear for her beloved sent Elordria surging out of her bedroll, heedless of her state of dress (or lack thereof)...

***

A heady smell of hibernating bear emanated from the cave entrance to the left as Lythar, and Shol members Fel’thusaar and Tyl’las, advanced into the rightmost cave entrance behind the waterfall. As the three entered, their eyes picked out a nearly naked human carrying what appeared to be the remains of a meal in his hands. Three sets of eyes also immediately locked onto the great-sword's distinctive hilt protruding from over his shoulder.

Lythar was known for fast reflexes, but he was entirely unprepared for the roar that emanated from the human, and the sudden rain of fish bones, heads, and other garbage that pelted him. The human was making a primal sound, outstripping even the thunder of the waterfall at Lythar’s back as the human’s sword led the way in a headlong charge.

Steel rang as Lythar barely brought his Elven Curved Blade up to parry the charging thrust of the large human. Lythar’s training took over, however, and he rapidly lowered, then raised his center of gravity as the Ulfen ran into him, ramming his shoulder into the Ulfen’s gut. The result, while better than being spitted, was almost equally catastrophic, as both warriors’ swords flew from their hands, and the Ulfen was launched headfirst into Fel’thusaar and Tyl’las, upending the lot of them into a large pile of tangled limbs.

Being thrown by the diminutive Elf, coupled with frustration that his nascent plans should be so suddenly crushed, was just too much for Vognar, and a haze of red rage descended over his eyesight. All reason was now gone, as sheer anger and desperation gained instinctual control over the Ulfen.

Lythar managed to avoid being entangled in the pile of struggling bodies by continuing the movement his throw generated with a roll that put him deeper into the cave entrance. Tactically, Lythar realized that this position would also allow him to block the Orodae from reaching Elordria, or what may be left of her. He finished the roll by tumbling lightly onto his feet, and turned just in time to see the enraged Ulfen stand up with Fel’thusaar and Tyl’las hanging off of either arm, like puny tree limbs. Abruptly, Vognar windmilled an arm, causing Fel’thusaar to fly right past Lythar deeper into the cave. A dull thud sounded from behind a surprised Lythar as the unfortunate Elf impacted the cave wall behind him.

Tyl’las, undeterred by the sudden and swift departure of his companion, used the tenuous grip he still had on his longsword to bash the human behind the ear with the hilt. Vognar, eyes glazed slightly, but he reacted instantly, by crushing Tyl’las into the cave wall as hard as his rage-enhanced strength would allow. The mighty blow caused the longsword to fly from Tyl’las’ hand, and so did the breath from his lungs as the cave wall seemed to rise up and swat him. Somehow, though, the battered Elf managed to consolidate his grip, and worked around to the rear of the thrashing human.

Lythar, not to be outdone, and concerned for the safety of both of his friends, chose that opportunity to rush Vognar, managing to hit him low just as Tyl’las yanked backwards - sending all three struggling warriors flying backwards. Their fall was unexpectedly short, however, as they impacted a large, warm, furry wall.

***

The mother bear had spent the month feeding her cubs, and enjoying the frequent snacks left by her new neighbors. While she didn’t like the little pink hairless creatures anywhere near her den, one of them had said such nice things, so she had tolerated their presence, and the interruptions and odd smells that emanated from their branch of the cave.

Today, however, all of the roaring, screaming, yelling, and thuds were most unpleasant, and not at all conducive to a wholesome family environment. As her cubs squealed in fright, the bear decided she had had enough, and proceeded next door to file a complaint utilizing the only method available to her.

***

The warriors had but an instant to register that something was amiss before, with a roar that was far louder than the waterfall, the bear took a mighty swing at the interlopers who had so rudely interrupted her rest.

Lythar, having had the good fortune of seeing the swing coming while also being low to the ground, managed to roll to the side as the bear’s huge paw swept past overhead. Vognar and Tyl’las were not so fortunate, and the mighty blow knocked both of them off the narrow ledge and into the fast rushing water of the falls.

The bear was quite satisfied with the direction her complaint was taking so far, and decided to take it up with the remaining little pink ones in the cave. She could smell one of them close by, and two more farther back in the shaft.

Deciding that his best bet was to find a cleft or other feature of the rock that might give him a chance against the bear, Lythar quickly fell back deeper into the cave. As he turned to begin looking for a cranny to stuff himself into, his jaw dropped in shock as before him he saw Elordria, who was bent down over Fel’thusaar. Seeing the bear beginning to lumber deeper into the cave, Elordria quickly stood, passing a blushing Lythar to stand between him and the angry bear.

***

‘How is it that I always end up facing angry bears?’ Elordria thought grimly to herself as the bear’s roar washed her in fetid breath.

Standing tall, Elordria began the process of soothing the angry bear, always dancing just out of range of the bear’s lunges and swipes while speaking gently and steadily to the angry animal, refusing to show any reaction to its frustrated roars and whuffs. Lythar, wise to Elordria’s skill with the creatures of the forest, concentrated on staying out of her way and not presenting a convenient target. A quick glance at Felthusaar confirmed that he was stunned, seriously banged up, yet not mortally wounded.

As the bear’s protests fell from murderous rage to mere “annoyance”, Lythar quickly scooped up his blade from where it had fallen and walked steadily past the large animal out of the cave. ‘I’ll teach that...human...to enter Elven lands and have his way with our women!’

Lythar’s passing alarmed Elordria as she realized that, in her current state of (un)dress, Lythar might not wait long enough for her to leave the cave before dispensing the justice authorized to any of the warriors charged with guarding the forest. Despite her rush of worry, however, Elordria knew that the bear wasn’t yet in a condition where she could be left alone. Until she was back with her cubs, the groggy mother was a threat to all in the area. Her mind torn, Elordria turned fully back to calming and soothing the huge animal as quickly as possible.

***

‘The river bottom is quite pretty...all those little stones and pebbles, and there goes a little fish...’, Vognar’s sluggish thought processes suddenly realized that there was a hand on the back of his head, and he was under water. The hand gave a sharp tug on his hair, and he began hungrily sucking in air as he became aware of two Elves covering him with their bows, as the third finished his bindings. His head felt like someone had pounded on it with a sledgehammer, and the sight of the rocks at the base of the waterfall reminded Vognar of where his head must have landed for him to feel so.

Tyl’las finished tying Vognar with the enchanted assassin vines that the searchers had been given by Kaerishiel with a neat knot. The semi-intelligent vines snaked in two loops joined by a short length around his ankles, connected to the vines binding his wrists together in front of him, and finished with a join to a neat loop around the neck, which began to tighten alarmingly as Vognar squirmed a little. The entire rig restricted Vognar to short steps and an unhealthy hunched position. A leather gag finished off the arrangement.

“You’ll be wanting to hold really still now, ye filthy Orodae.” Tyl’las rasped in Vognar’s ear. “Those vines, you see, are quite hungry for blood. And while they’ll behave so long as you do, they’ll not hesitate to squeeze your head clean off of your shoulders if given half a chance.” With that pronouncement, Tyl’las roughly helped Vognar to stand and led him shuffling awkwardly to the river bank.

Lythar rounded the edge of the waterfall and smiled at the sight of his brethren holding the human, walking gingerly with a slight limp over to the group. Seeing that the situation was in hand, Lythar pulled a small signaling horn from his pack and blew a recall signal.

As the clarion note of the horn faded down the ravine, Lythar turned and faced Vognar, who unflinchingly returned his stare.

“I name you Orodae, a trespasser in the Mierani Forest, murderer of Elves, and violator of an Elven Maiden. The punishment is death.” Lythar announced loudly in Common. At the final word, Tyl’las pulled the Ulfen over to a snow covered log, and roughly laid him out face down with his neck at the highest point, using his hold on the vine joining wrists and neck to keep the human still. As Tyl’las’ hand jostled the joined vine, it once again tightened reflexively, restricting Vognar’s air supply and painfully cutting into his wrists.

Stepping up beside the human warrior, Lythar announced in Elven, “The punishment shall be carried out immediately, the Forest and our People shall be avenged”.

Lythar’s blade, with water droplets glinting in the dapples of weak morning sun, rose high above his head. Lythar finished the upswing in one smooth, practiced motion, and the muscles in his shoulders and back bunched as the blade gracefully began to fall...

A Deed Most Foul

Part 2 - Veser (Pursuit)

The ancient trees of the Mierani Forest swayed gently. As leaves gently fell to the ground, they passed a number of Elven Sentries strung out across the great valley. Mostly high in the trees, the Sentries were guarding one of the main approaches to enter/exit the Mierani Forest. Ravines and other natural hazards created a number of geographical funnels that most Orodaes had to utilize to enter/exit the area.

One hundred feet in the air, perched at the base of a wide branch, Lythar sat stock still with his back to the tree’s trunk as his eyes played back and forth in a scanning pattern, watching the slice of the valley to which he had been assigned. The leaves woven into his Tylaelaes (a cloak much like the gillie suit) fluttered softly in the stiffening breeze. As a quick sniff of the passing air revealed the ozone smell of the coming storm, Lythar sighed inwardly at what would definitely be another cold and wet night.

After a week of travel, Lythar and a small group of Thysaer Kasol had been monitoring the area for two additional weeks. In that time, they hadn’t seen hide, nor hair, of either the Orodaes that spurred their being ordered into the Forest, nor their Dark Cousins, who infested nearby Celwynvian. “It is, however, rather odd that we haven’t heard from Crying Leaf by now...” Lythar thought to himself. Surely Elordria dealt with the Orodaes and we will receive recall orders any day now with our relief?

The slightest tremble passing through the tree was all the warning Lythar had, as another Elf settled lightly onto the branch in front of him. A quick twitch, and Lythar froze as he found himself looking down his hastily drawn arrow at Kaerishiel, who was returning Lythar’s gaze with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you mean to spit me on that arrow then Shalaes Lythar?”, Kaerishiel asked dryly, yet very quietly.

“Of course not Tadal! Cry pardon!” Lythar responded equally quietly, as he reduced tension on the bowstring and re-concealed the bow and its nocked arrow inside his Tylaelaes.

“You need to be far more vigilant lad,“ Kaerishiel observed, as his own eyes scanned the forest floor and canopy, “there are Drow about if I don’t miss my guess. And these seem to have some skill, unlike most of their worthless brethren. Watch above, as well as below you. While Orodaes usually move with all the grace of a stampeding buffalo herd, and as such can be heard and smelled for miles, our shadowy cousins are far more circumspect and have a talent for appearing where, and when, least expected.”

For Kaerishiel to mention Drow with any type of respect was nearly unheard of, and an icy chill passed through a chastened Lythar, as he found his own eyes immediately darting to scan a much more sinister appearing forest canopy.

“There is at least one Stalker about, “ Kaerishiel continued, “and he is very good. Even Zerranthus was having trouble tracking him last month, prior to his coming and warning us of the Orodaes.” Kaerishiel paused, eying the young Thysaer Kasol scout, then said “But that is not why I’ve...dropped in...on you this evening. We have a much larger problem. It would seem that Lady Elordria and her retinue ran into more than they could handle with the Orodaes.”

At that proclamation, Lythar was completely floored. It was unfathomable to him that a small group of Orodaes could waylay Elordria and the Shin’Rakorath. In a moment, Lythar realized why they were still out on their original orders. His control slipped for a moment and his cloak shook in a way even a blind Orodaes couldn’t miss as he briefly tottered on the branch. “What happened?”

Kaerishiel replied “It must have been an ambush by a superior force. The tracks indicate that the Orodaes appear to have moved a good-sized raiding party into the Mierani Forest. From the evidence, it looks as if Elordria was likely carried off by one or more humans, while the rest beat a retreat towards the sea. We have scouts out looking for the main body now, and it may be war, lad. In the mean time, I’ve been following horse tracks for a week now that appear to be related to Lady Elordria herself, and when I passed near your post, I decided that I should have some extra help, in the event that this is a trap.”

With that revelation, Kaerishiel looked thoughtful for a moment, then removed a small wooden box from his cloak and handed it to Lythar. “You were first in your class were you not Lythar?”

“Aye, that I was Tadal.” Replied Lythar, taking the box and gently pushing the cleverly concealed lid open, to reveal a small silver insignia consisting of the crossed leaves of the rank of Valaes (Runner, or Wing Leader).

“You’re out of uniform Lythar, and you and your Shol (Wing, or Squad) are assigned to me until this crisis is over.”

At that news, Lythar once again almost fell off his branch. To be promoted and assigned to one of the greatest Elven Shas Jhaedaes (War Leaders) in one day was almost too much.

“Valaes Lythar, your Shol is to accompany myself and my Shin’Rakorath in pursuit of the Lady Elordria. We’re ordered by the Lady Eviana to bring her back, dead or alive, without regards to the cost to ourselves to do so.” Kaerishiel’s eyes hardened as he assumed a grim visage and continued, “These filthy interlopers can not be allowed to possess her in any way, shape or form, and they’ll pay very dearly for their transgression.”

With that proclamation, Kaerishiel dropped lightly down the bole to the ground. As he did so, a half dozen Shin’Rakorath seemed to materialize out of nowhere, some in the canopy, others on the forest floor. Lythar marvelled that he hadn’t noticed any them prior to that moment.

Loudly giving the bird call for “form on me” followed by “make ready to march”, Lythar descended the tree rather more slowly (and less deftly) than Kaerishiel had. Then, attaching the new rank on the collar of his studded armor, waited for the...no, his...Shol to arrive from their posts and make ready to leave.

***

The silent forest’s reverie was broken briefly by the forms of Elves living up to their fey nature as they became visible in brief glimpses flitting through the trees. Now and again, one or more of the forms would pause momentarily to read sign, or to watch their back trail. To an observer, it was almost as if the dense undergrowth moved aside for the graceful Elves, who seemed not bothered at all by tangles of briars or vines.

Lythar had now been in pursuit of the interloper for a few days. Kaerishiel’s ability as a tracker had absolutely stunned him, as the older Elf picked up sign that the younger Elf barely noticed even when it was pointed out to him.

On the fifth day, the trail seemed to stop near at the edge of a ravine. While it appeared that one or more items had gone down the steep slopes, the sign was muddled, and confused.

“Lythar, take your group down into the ravine for a look, we’ll continue farther downstream and see if we can pick up the trail again. Meet up with us at sundown.” Kaerishiel ordered in an almost silent voice.

Nodding once to Kaerishiel, Lythar looked at his Shol and indicated the ravine. The five Elves immediately began to carefully pick their way down the side, as Kaerishiel and the Shin’Rakorath continued downstream, slowly checking the ground for the trail they had been following for so long.

Upon reaching the ravine floor, Lythar’s eyes immediately picked up scattered horse prints heading downstream along the ravine’s floor. As he began to move to follow them, the low morning sun peeked its way through the thick canopy to pick out a detail that would have gone unnoticed otherwise - the horse’s prints weren’t as deep as they had been on prior rare occasions that they could be found. Looking even closer at a few relatively clear prints in a sheltered part of a rain pocked snow drift revealed that the horse couldn’t have been carrying much at all when it made those prints, let alone two bodies, and the lack of any obvious accompanying prints immediately sent a chill up Lythar’s spine.

At that moment, a raven sounded from behind him. Lythar turned his head to see Fel’myhtaria, an excellent tracker in her own right. As he quietly joined her, she pointed at a spot Lythar had missed where the river stones, old icy snow, and sand had been scattered haphazardly in an attempt to sweep away tracks....their prey had definitely been in this area for an extended time.

With a quick signal, Lythar’s Shol immediately melted into their surroundings, bows springing into their hands as they did so, leaving Lythar to draw his Elven Curved Blade as his eyes began scanning around him.

A meditative technique he’d learned as a child while playing the wolf version of hide and seek (the wolves cheated of course, with their sensitive noses) allowed Lythar’s unfocused gaze to notice a pair of caves tucked up under the ravine wall, behind a fall of water. Now that he was looking, it was obvious, as the ravine wall’s tilt would have created a much different pattern in the cascade. Further scanning pointed to those caves as being the only likely place their prey could hide, if they were indeed still in the area.

After indicating the cave to the covering Shol Members, Lythar and two of his burlier compatriots cautiously advanced on the shared cave entrance.

Vognar two months earlier…Part 4

Vognar two months earlier…Part 4

What would have been two weeks of recovery for the wounded elf quickly turned into a month due to her feigned slow recovery, as the pair became closer than either had thought possible. Winter now fully on the Mierani Forest, the previous night had been spent in unexpected passion and warmth, something that neither had ever known before. However Vognar was coolly quiet that frigid evening, even the fire he built did not seem to warm his condition.

Lying against his broad firm chest, Elordria wondered if he had grown tired of her company, now that he had her. Men especially human men where known for that, “You seem far away tonight”. She spoke softly in elven.

He stirred at the statement as if pulled away from troubled thoughts; “Hrrrm” was the only answer she received for some long moments.

“We should leave tomorrow and try to make one of your peoples cities, now that you are well”, stroking her long fair hair with his calloused hands.

She stiffened in his embrace, sitting up looking intently at him, Elordria pain glinting in her giant golden eyes. “Do you grow tired of me so quickly”, attempting to be coy but with more concern than she had planned.

Vognar looked shocked at first, then a strange smile of incredulity, followed by a loud laugh, “You think I wish to be rid of you, that I grow weary of your company so soon?” poking at her playfully to which she reposted with mocked shock and punches on his rock hard arms. The playful match ended in a embrace and a kiss.

Relieved that was not the case; she had more feelings for this Orodae than thought possible, nuzzling close to him again. “Then what troubles you”? Pressing him.

“I am concerned about my people and yours” daring to ruin the mood at the mention of the Ulfen raiders and appearance of her dark cousins. ”Although my concern is for your safety, we must travel in this weather, tell our leaders what has happened so that nothing ill comes to pass between them”.

More meekly now, Vognar dared “Then I will ask for your hand from your father and fight other suitors for your love”, more seriously at the last part.

Now it was Elordria’s turn to be stunned by Vognar, as a myriad of emotions crossed her face. ‘He wants to marry me? How wonderfully sweet and ridiculous, but he will die in a mere forty or fifty years, barring violence or sickness, she will still be an young adult’. She welled up at the thought of those few short decades together being so passionate but short.

‘Her family, what would they say they hated Orodaes, like him, rightly fearing their judgment of Vognar would be tainted by recent events’. Elordria swore, naively, she would not allow her people to harm him, but begrudgingly admitting, ‘that even if she had not fallen for this young man, she might have shared their contempt and condemnation of his kin’.

With a sigh, “Yes my love I want all the things you do and it is true there is danger but we must face it”, looking up into his icey blue eyes brushing a lock of hair from his face trying to etch this moment into her memory for all time. Their lips met in a tender kiss, resting her head back on his chest her eyes full of emotion.

“When” was all she could manage without weeping.

“Tomorrow”, feeling her fears Vognar drew her close surrounding Elordria in his strong embrace. The star-crossed lovers spent their last night in warmth, love and passion; soon their worlds would be turned upside down.

Vognar several months earlier…Part 3

The brush and scrub of the Mierani forest cut and scraped the big Ulfen man hunched over as far as he could without crushing his unconscious elven passenger. His horses breathing more labored than normal due to the poisoned bolt in the mares rear rump.

The venomous dark elven darts meant for Vognar missed him, but one struck exhausted mount. Collapsing to the ground in a heap the horse toppled falling to the ground unconscious. The passengers were flung wide of the mount, down a ravine side, to a stream bank below. Cold muddy but alive the young Ulfen warrior got up and spotted a cave up stream behind a cascading waterfall about hundred yards ahead.

Checking on the elf, she appeared to not have regained consciousness during the fall and her wound would need seeing too soon if she were to survive.

If his instincts about the dark elves where correct, they would be excellent trackers like the surface ones, they needed to hide, heal, pray that they passed this area bye. Then he could head for the coast and then north with his elven prize. An elven witness, as both a prisoner and prize, would make him renown among his kin.

“If I survive” chuckling quietly and ironically to himself.

Drawing his fathers huge two handed sword the Ulfen warrior strode cautiously in knee deep cold water of the stream and under the waterfall, into the cave that was deeper than it originally looked from the outside.

Curving in for some twenty paces to the left and opened up larger area. To the right another smaller tunnel where one would have to crawl on all fours to proceed further inside seemed to go for farther than the human could see.

Something stirred to the left and growled annoyed, at its rest being disturbed, Vognar froze as something large and brown rolled over and yawned. A huge brown bear lay resting in the left cave, apparently getting a jump on its winters nap.

Cursing himself a fool he tried to retreat out of the cave but the she bear woke rolling up on all fours with speed that belied its large girth, revealing three small cubs, who now cried out at having their breakfast interrupted. The momma bear roared with rage and Vognar flew from the cave, not before slipping on the mossy rocks to fall into the stream he left earlier face first.

Vognar managed to hold on to his sword thankfully. He jumped up and spun around as the angry bear emerged from the waterfall-covered cave, angrily striding towards the soaked Ulfen warrior.

“Lower your weapon, your head and step back slowly human, on your life” a weak feminine voice spoke behind him.

Looking to his left, the elf maid knelt weakly on the ground leaning against the bank. “Do it or she will kill us both”, she hissed with as much energy as she could.

Although against his nature, Vognar did as he was instructed. As he did the wounded elf began to speak soft soothing tones to the mother bear in a language the Ulfen did not understand, for it was not the common tongue or the language of the elves, ‘some other magic perhaps’, he wondered.

The she-bear roared at the two for some time but eventually it calmed to a grumpy growl, only wanting to protect her young and drive out intruders. The mother bear did not want to fight and leave its cubs unattended.

“Now … open you pack and toss her the food in it”, Elordria stated as even toned as possible.

“Are you INSANE that is all the food we have” the young human, scolded the elf woman, to which the bear roared loudly at the sudden movement by the large man who froze and looked at his feat again.

“Please do not make any sudden movements or yell” the elf said quietly still keeping her tone lilting and sweet towards the bear, but clearly talking thru her teeth at the human. “Just do it”.

Annoyed but in no position to argue with a bear that weighed nearly a thousand stones, Vognar pulled out some meats, cheeses and breads he had packed for the long crossing. Tossing them on the riverbank, the brown beast’s sensitive sense of smell and hunger got the better of her and she began to eat. After all the food was gone, the bear satisfied the pair meant no threat, had calmed down to heavy sighs and lumbered back into her cave to tend her young.

The odd pair both breathed a sigh of relief. “How did you do that”? “What language was that”? Vognar said turning on her his curiosity getting the best of him.

Elordria swooned from the energy used to calm the bear, her wound and poison, “sSstupid human, it’s amazing you have survived this long”, and she began to loose consciousness.

Running to catch her he slapped her face to trying to keep her awake, Vognar pressed, “Which way is the sea? Where are your people”?

Her eyes, rolling back now head lolling about, opened one last time, “You will need more food to get in there …” eying the cave, slipping back into black oblivion.

Piecing together a plan Vognar laid the maiden down and covered her in his fur cloak. Removing the sleep dart from the horse and rousing the animal he pointed the horse in a direction and smacking its wounded rump so that it would run on for miles. Hopefully leading pursuers off after he animal. Then he cleared the trail as best as he could of their decent into the ravine.

Although not particularly wise Vognar was smart and new how to fish and hunt. By midday he had speared a half dozen salmon from the river down stream using the water to travel hiding his scent and tracks. Living on the edge of the cold north his father had taught him many such lessons on how to survive.

Using the fish to bribe the bear, he now called ‘Norga’, into the letting them stay in the smaller cave to the right. Able to leave and enter as long as he had food for his new land liege, of course not without receiving a customary growl from the surly mother bear each time he passed the entrance reminding him that he was a guest at her good graces.

Removing her dart, cleaning the wound, Vognar made a low fire to warm them both as he tended to the noble elf girl for three days, she lay unconscious and feverish.

With a start in the low light Elordria woke unsure of her surroundings a huge human barely dressed save his leather breeches reclined by a dim fire. The stench of him, wet bear, moist earth and fish assaulted her nostrils, as did her aching wound and ringing head.

“By the gods what did you do to me”, the elven girl croaked, weakly trying to sit up, she noticed her wrapped chest wound, made from his shirt. He used layers of his own clothes used to keep her warm.

Vognar just stared at her popping some cooked trout in his mouth and chewed deliberately. She gazed at the young man who stared at her so intently, barely twenty winters old, but so many scars covering his body for one so young she mused. He had to recline in the low, dark, cave where she could actually sit up and not hit her head. Easily as big as the war leader, Vognar accompanied at the ruins, he was covered in muscles well defined from hard work or from raiding peaceful elven towns she thought sourly.

Motioning to the food on the fire Vognar wondered how he would get her to be his prisoner. She although looked younger than him was most certainly his senior by sixty years and crafty. His mother had told him that the long lived elves where once fey and tricky. In this situation there would be no way to take her across elven and drow lands by force without them getting them both caught and him killed by either race of elf.

“My name is Vognar, son of Kursk and Ulga and you are my prisoner. Eat you will need your strength.” Popping another piece of fish into his mouth and spitting the bones into the fire.

Elordria nearly laughed aloud, “I am no one’s prisoner you smelly savage and when you sleep I will slit your throat” she lilted playfully, in elven, smiling as if to insinuate thanks for the food.

“You ARE my prisoner, Elordria of Crying Leaf, I saved your life and your virtue, although I offend your sensitive nose, and have no doubt that our destinies are entwined”.

“Both your life and your virtue belong to me now”. He spat back at her in her native language for emphasis.

“How far will either of us get in this forest with so many of your dark kin about?” The reference to the drow along with the shock of hearing it in her own language jarred Elordria. The thought of what the dark elves would have done, caused a shiver up her spine that calmed her ire towards her new captor.

Grateful to be alive and introspective about her situation she began to regard the Ulfen youth more appraisingly than before. As she ate, fish from the river, silently noting it was not some animal killed so he could not be tracked back to their cave. If Vognar knew elven then also was able to assess that they did not usually eat many animals so he was considerate and intelligent, despite his rash and savage exterior. ‘We have the humans all lumped together, but this one is different’ she musing at his long unkempt blond locks and beardless chiseled jaw she had never seen a human before lest be left alone with one. Her brother would boil with anger if she saw this Ulfen.

Smiling to her self, ‘With a bath he might even be handsome’.

Noticing her amusement Vognar scowl grew deeper only drawing the smile out of Elordria into a giggle, who thought, he looked more like the grumpy bear that slept in the cave next to them.

“What do you laugh at elf”, the Ulfen tried to sit up but hit his head on the low stone ceiling, causing her to blurt out laughing even more.

“I am serious, you’re my prisoner. This is no laughing matter”, the big man stated wincing and rubbing his sore head, looking less dangerous and more humorous to her as before.

Shaking her head in apology but unable to contain her giggles which hurt her wound. Vognar thought how he must look to her, probably as odd as she looked to him causing him to smirk and then join her in laughter.

The over the next week two sparingly exchanged stories of their lives. The elf maiden corrected his elven and he explained his customs to her but kept the secret of why the Ulfen had come to the Mierani forest in the first place figuring plunder of her elven ancestors would dampen her spirits. As Elordria kept her own private thoughts about the alarming number of dark elves in her peoples ancestral home.

Vognar began to care for her more like a comrade and less like a prisoner or a prize. He even bathed freqently in the waterfall that was growing cooler with winter approaching. Elordria’s wound grew better each day but she feigned a slow recovery biding her time as to get to know her ‘captor’ better for her people. Originally planning to escape, but soon she discovered that when he left for food, she missed their talks and his company, so she recovered slowly that their time together would not stop.

A Deed Most Foul

Part 1 - Shaendrolol (Beginnings)

“If I were a drow stalker, you’d all be feeding the trees right now - and that is most certainly an affront to manure, which at least HAS a valid function around here!”

The female instructor’s voice crashed into the pre-dawn darkness of the barracks, just as she and her three assistants illuminated themselves by unhooding their lanterns.

Throughout the room, young elves crashed to the floor in surprise, either fighting to get out of their bedsheets, or tangling their limbs with their shocked and struggling bretheren. The Instructor, known to the Elves of Crying Leaf as Shalelu, sighed, and eyed the assistant to her left. “You think this lot is worth the effort Sulaarn?”, she asked while rolling her eyes in barely concealed mirth.

“Probably not, but we may as well try Shalelu.” Sularn replied with an eye-roll of his own.

“Get your gear and fall in, drow bait!” Shalelu yelled.

The instructors begin to lay about them with willow switches. Vaeler (Recruits) not moving fast enough got a firm swat on exposed skin, creating a chorus of yelps as the instructors moved through the barracks.

In the bedlam, Lythar Kille'eplith untangled himself from the fellow Vaeler that had landed on him as Lythar was rolling clear of the lower bunk. Lythar’s sapphire eyes seemed to glow in the dim light as he pulled his raven black hair back into a leather thong. Ducking an instructor’s switch as it whistled by, Lythar grabbed his tunic and breeches and began to maneuver his way through the chaotic throng of other recruits.

As he slipped by Shalelu, who was happily swinging her switch at laggard Vaeler and chuckling almost evilly under her breath, Lythar couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe that his group had pulled her as their instructor. Shelelu spent most of her time out on patrol, usually patrolling haunted Celwynvian or roaming the edges of the forest in search of Orodaes (Outsiders). The village of Crying Leaf was awash in stories of her prowess in battle, her propensity for almost disappearing from sight when sitting still, and her ability to get in and out alive from areas that had swallowed entire patrols without a trace.

As far as Shalelu was concerned, she would rather have been out drawing blood than training a bunch of wet behind the ears Thysaer Kasol (Forest Guardian) candidates. She knew, however, the absolute importance of molding this raw material into a premier fighting force. The Mierani Forest seemed to act as a lure for foolish bands of humans and other races who were attracted to the stories of great riches in the nearby ancient Elven ruin of Celwynvian. While the riches were definitely there, and were remarkable, outsiders had no business plundering Elven tombs and priceless artifacts. Besides, cleaning up the bodies after a demon, or one of the other denizens of the ruins got a hold of a group of Orodaes was a filthy business - after all, their bodies couldn’t be left to further corrupt the fallen city, or rise again to plague the countryside.

Noticing one of the Vaeler mooning at her, Shalelu took a hard swipe with her switch at the raven-haired youth’s shoulder, grunting in surprise when he not only dodged the blow, but seemed to instantly once again be in motion as he flowed out of the barracks, easily dodging the chaotic movements of his fellows. “Maybe this won’t be entirely a waste of time...” she thought to herself as yet another yelp sounded at the end of her switch.

***

In the months that followed, Lythar watched more than half of his fellow Vaeler fall out of the program. Many would continue learning the trades of their parents, or become town militia. Lythar, though, took to the program with relish, and often surprised his instructors (and himself) with his progress in training. You see, Lythar was a little different than many of his brethren.

Lythar wasn’t a “City Elf” (though admittedly, a traveled Elf would hesitate to call the small hamlets and towns of the Mierani Forest “Cities”). Unable to stay cooped up in his home, or even in the confines of the town of Crying Leaf, Lythar spent most of his childhood in the forest itself. This “natural” education gave Lythar an edge not obtained by many Elves, and his youth spent running with a friendly pack of local wolves and living “rough” in the wilds had granted him skills in tracking and survival and a physique built for combat. After a while, even Lythar’s parents stopped trying to “civilize” him - “some elves are just born for the wilds” they’d say while clucking their tongues.

While he stayed well away from the haunted ruins of Celwynvian, as a youth, Lythar had come to feel more at home in the forest than inside of buildings and towns. This forlorn childhood made him perfect for Thysaer Kasol. As for his parents, they were very happy to see in him a joy for the hunt, and that he had found a calling that suited his very nature. After all, it was the next best thing to him becoming a Druid and going “wild”.

***

Over the next year of training, the group of Vaeler became smaller and smaller. Lythar quickly established himself as one of the more skilled of the group, and rose to become the Thos Vaeler, or First Recruit. After a year of training, and improving their skills in archery and with blades of many sorts, along with improved skills in tracking and survival, Lythar and the small remainder of Vaeler left in his class reached Graduation. As was custom, the entire town of Crying Leaf turned out to welcome the new Thysaer Kasol into their midst.

Upon Graduation, the Vaeler became Shalaes, or Walkers. Charged with patrolling the forest in small groups as scouts, their first years in the service of the Forest were usually as watchers and scouts, tasked with keeping tabs on any Orodaes who penetrated the sacred Forest, notifying the more senior Thysaer Kasol of their location so they could be appropriately dealt with.

That night, as the celebration feast began to wind up, though, a tired and winded Elf burst into the town proper.

“Orodaes,” growled Zerranthus, “have come to desecrate Celwynvian. To arms!”

At Zerranthus’ rasped call, Lythar’s head snapped up, a mixture of excitement and dread filling him. His hands immediately began to check for the presence of his omnipresent bow, arrows, and sword, as well as the other gear granted to Shalaes, and expected to be on their person at all times.

Tadal (Captain) Kaerishiel Neirenar, head of the Shin’Rakorath, the elite warriors of the Mierani Forest, conferred quietly with Zerranthus, and then immediately called to all warriors present to gather for assignments. Lythar was tasked to a screening force which was ordered to the far side of Celwynvian to reinforce the Shalaes already on watch in that area, and to help prevent any runners from getting too much farther into the forest. Upon receiving their orders, Lythar’s group loped off into the forest to take their stations.

Having seen the newly minted group of Shalaes off, Kaerishiel turned to Lady Elordria and her assigned squad of Shin’Rakorath. “M’Lady, why don’t you and your group see our friends back to wherever they came from?” he said with a smirk.

“With pleasure Kaerishiel!” Lady Elordria replied, as she turned to the grizzled veterans under her command. “To horse! Let us kindle a desire in these Orodaes to be on their way!”

With a hearty roar, Lady Elordria and her Shin’Rakorath retinue thundered off towards Celwynvian....

Vognar several months earlier…Part 2

Zerranthus leapt from tree branch to tree branch tracking his quarry but the dark stalker was adept at staying just out of bowshot, and the sun was going down soon. Although elves see in starlight just as well as they do during the day tonight was a new moon with clouds and that meant his quarry would have the advantage.

Cursing that he would need to find a place to hold up till sun up, Zerranthus found a large hollowed out spot in a great darkwood tree where he could get some rest and continue after his prey in the morning. After quietly eating some mixed nuts and berries, his sister had packed for him, the elven warrior laid several soft pine branches in his hollow and began to settle in to meditate and rest. Four hours is all he needed of reverie before he could begin the trail again, more time than Zerranthus wanted to spare for someone so vile, but it could not be helped.

Barely cognizant of the rhythmic drops of rain that fell on the trees branches, his rest was interrupted by the sounds of hoof falls on twigs below. His pointed ears twitched instinctively as hearing the rattle of horse bridles, some language akin to bastardized dwarven mixed with common, being whispered by the travelers. Then his nose was filled with the wet stink of them.

‘HUMANS’, his nose wrinkled at their odor of sweat, furs, and horse, so strong he could have shot them in the dark.

Apparently the Ulfen thought the tree a good place to make camp as well for all their horses where tied below. Just over fifty, mostly males but a few female, warriors began to break off and make low fires in groups of five or ten.

Zerranthus leaned forward making out their leader, a tall man at almost seven stones high, with long immaculately braided salt and pepper colored hair and beard, dressed in the furs of a winter wolf and worn but sturdy looking plate mail covered his broad muscular frame. Although most of the north men where large easily over six stones high or higher, this one was immense and carried himself with great grace despite his size.

‘Most likely the war party leader’, the elf mused. Only one other seemed to even come close to his size a fair-haired youth who followed he great warrior like a wolf pup. But even a pup has fangs and what the Ulfen youth lacked in experience he made up in size and impressive physique most likely the strongest man among them next to the leader.

Their presence vexed the elven warrior. ‘What where they doing here? Surely they where not so foolish to think they would attack the elves in their forest home?’ Plunder and prey would be easier to find further south.

Of course the Ulfen also enjoyed challenges in battle, exotic prisoners, like elves had been taken by his people hundreds of years ago.’ Zerranthus heart turned cold at the thought of these humans encroaching on his homelands for slaves, the thought of some blond barbarian youth taking his sister as a prize boiled his elven blood.

“Filthy humans” he mouthed silently between his teeth. There would be no rest for Zerranthus tonight he must make Crying Leaf before the dawn tomorrow, to warn them of the humans. His hunt of the dark stalker must wait in spite of how close he had come to finding him this time.

Vognar laid his wet pack by the fire in hopes it would dry out before he laid to rest with the others in a circle. Sentries where set up around the war party but none noted the elven warrior slipping past them with ease.

Above the tree hollow Zerranthus used, the dark stalker laid motionless mere branches away from his surface elven counterpart. His ebony skin, pointed ears and red eyes saw the exchange of contempt Zerranthus had toward the humans. How the dark elf wanted to kill the elf warrior, being so close to his surface enemy made him tremble with anger, it would have been simple, but his orders where specific 'do not engage our surface brethren yet'. However the trap of mistrust was set and what he had accomplished what he was told to. Soon the humans and surface elves would go to war.

Vognar laying beneath the great tree thought of the elves and what they might look like, then a shadow moving above caught his eye. The young warrior sat up peering intently at the tree branches above, for a moment thinking he saw elf demons in the trees shadows above. Shaking his head, the dark apparition disappeared, apparently a trick of light and shadow, he laid down dreaming of gold and glory.

The following morning the invading humans came to a set of ruins near the ancient elven city, many of the younger warriors wondered if they had arrived at Celwynvian. Ingimundr their leader corrected that this was once a watch post but they were close to the city, perhaps another day. A sudden stillness came over the air and animals, that alerted Ingimundr to danger. The trees where silent the war leader noted, reaching for his axe and shield, about to warn his men, a voice clearly accented, but well spoken, broke the silence as and arrow landed a hairs breathe from Ingimundr.

Vognar reached for his weapon but was held in place by Ingimundr shaking his head. “You are intruders here, HUMAN, go back to your ships and leave now or you will feed the trees and birds with your carcasses. You are surrounded.” A clearly elven female voice spoke from the cover of trees ahead of him, in the common tongue.

“I go where I please, perhaps you are just one or few and we are many. I might accidently burn your forest you will have no place to hide anymore, come out so we can talk. Either that or my men and I continue on.” Ingimundr had no intention of talking; Vognar knew this, his hand edging for his own great sword, staring intently at the trees for a glimpse of an elf to charge.

“My name is Ingimundr King of Bilt with whom do I parley wit?” attempting to stall for more time and assess the locations of his enemies.

Seeing the obvious ruse, “You will not find us human besides we smelled you long before we heard you, we could shoot you down blind folded.” The female elf jeered. “My name is Lady Elordria of Crying Leaf and you are not welcome here”.

“Go home NOW, or suffer the…” A series of twangs was heard all around but no arrows flew towards Ingimundr and his men, interrupting the young elf maids’ words. The ringing of swords and elven calls of alarm where cried out all around the Ulfen. Confused and angry at the injury to his pride, Ingimundr yelled for his men to arm themselves and find them.

His men confused attempted to follow their leaders orders, spreading out in every direction to engage the elves, but soon found two groups of elves fighting amongst the boughs and branches above. One very small group fair skinned elves like they had envisioned and the other larger group of sinister looking wraiths with skin dark as night fighting amongst the boughs and branches above them. Unable to reach them in the trees above and unable to keep up with their aerial speed and agility they stood confounded.

Vognar had heard the tales of dark elves and elves warring from his mother, a sky maiden, but could not have imagined the grace and speed of these fierce people until now. Standing dumbfounded the naive Ulfen warrior watched as the dark elves that out numbered the elves four to one still took great losses to their surface cousins who fought with brave desperation.

Ingimundr strode up beside him seeing the macabre spectacle of battle between the two races above, realized the rumors where true about the ancient Mierani forest being a place held by dark elves.

Calling to his men he yelled in Skald, “To the horses and back to the ship. RETREAT!” Turning to Vognar hand on his shoulder, “Come boy we must leave and tell the other Kings of this, or this will be the last thing we see.”

Ingimundr although crude and unruly was no fool, the sight of so many dark elves meant death for him and his men. With no other option the Ulfen raiders saddled and ran for the bay before the dark elves finished their work with their surface cousins. All except Vognar, who stood in awe of the battle above, too long and was soon left alone in woods among the fray of elves, which was quickly dying out.

A particularly beautiful but young elf maid became cornered by a male drow warrior, locked in heated exchange of ringing blades, the she elf deftly dodged the male marauders rapier thrusts, in time to be struck mid section by a small crossbow dart.

Laughing in hateful glee “My poison will do its work my fair haired cousin and you will suffer at my hands tonight I will take pleasure in your screams” the dark evil sneered hatefully.

Elordria was the daughter of a noble house, refusing to show the drow any fear, in spite of poison doing its work and feeling heavier by the moment. However, she could not ignore that her eyes, arms grew heavy and after a few more weak exchanges her weapons fell to the ground, which came rushing up towards her. Her last sight was the dark elf standing over her laughing evilly unbuckling his breeches.

Vognar ran to his mount as soon as she came into view, realizing all too late he had lingered too long, he prepared to leap on his horse and retreat as he was ordered. However when the elf maid was struck, with a poisoned bolt, something snapped deep within him, as the dark elf loomed over the young elf maid to gloat, all he could see is red, changing his direction Vognar rushed the dark elf with his horse.

Yizven turned at the last second at the sound of hooves barring down on him, barely deflecting the large humans immense sword swing, he was clipped by the large animal. Spinning Yizven was knocked head first into a tree and unconscious.

Vognar didn’t actually intend on hitting the drow, just distract him long enough to reach down and heft the elf girl over his saddle. He was surprised how light she was to lift, despite her height. His broad strong arms easily raised her up and Vognar spurred his horse to a gallop, deeper into the forest away from his people and the battle, trailed only by angry dark elven cries and poisoned bolts.

“STOP” a dark robed and hooded drow stood amongst them with a commanding presence, seeing his troops about to give chase to the solitary human. “Leave them, we can hunt them at our leisure they head further into our lands”.

“Gvneresti”, the hooded leader hissed aloud calling the dark stalker, who instantly appeared kneeling before his master.

Pointing after Ingimundr and his men, “Hunt those foul north men down and bring their bodies and equipment to me… use no poison to retrieve them, leave none alive”, a vile sneer crossed the leaders stony onyx face, “it must look like our elven cousins fought valiantly.”

“As you wish my lord”, the dark stalker stated.
“The elf girl and the Ulfen pup” the assassin questioned hopefully?

The drow leader Nolveniss nodded understandingly from deep his dark hood, “Very well, when you are done with your work you may hunt them down as well alone they are yours”.

Smiling triumphantly, the dark stalker nodded for the dark elven warriors to follow him north, after the Ulfen men, disappearing into the dark like silent specters most of the drow warriors departed, leaving their leader and just a two body guards to change the battlefield to look like Ulfen had fought here.

Burning the area Lord Nolveniss called upon all his dark arts of magic and cunning to obscure the terrain, while his best trackers removed signs of the drow having ever been there so they could place the bodies of the Ulfen warriors about stragetically.

'The elves will blame the humans and we will use their distraction to our advantage' he mused. 'Only the elf maid and the human can ruin my plans now'.