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Prelude
25 Nightal, 1372 D.R.
The drow elf crouched low in the bushes, observing the quiet, peaceful city of Silverymoon below. She sat on a small forested hill, her back to the giant and ancient Nether Mountains. The individual pixie like-lights of the city, whether from magical means or candles, stood out to the drow like daylight, though it was past midnight and to surface dwellers, pitch black out. Every few moments, the drow would look away from the city. Even the faintest light hurt the typical drows' eyes. Adapting took years.
As she waited in silence, another dark elf joined her, and another, and another, until twenty drow elves waited behind her at her command.
The dark elves waited as a small caravan of over twenty wagons pulled by huge, well bred horses came through the Silverymoon Pass, toward the city Sundabar. As the caravan passed, one drow cast his leader a hopeful glance, asking about the fate of the caravan in the drow silent language, which uses quick hand gestures made for times of complete silence.
"No," the war cleric responded in the silent code. "That is not what we were sent here for, though it would be an easy loot. What they are doing at this hour, I do not know."
A quiet, high pitched whistle blew from over a mile away. To the drow elves, who had incredibly keen hearing and eye sight, the whistle was amplified ten times what a human would hear. A human couldn't hear it if they blew it themselves.
"That is the signal from our scouts," Chalrath the priestess of Lolth gestured. Chalrath got up quickly and immediately started jogging down the hill towards their destination, Silverymoon. For her small size, Chalrath was amazingly fast and doubly agile. She disappeared into the night quickly, partially due to her jet black adamantite armor, dyed black hair and charred-black flail. Then again, you can not disappear into the night with drow watching.
Chalrath's followers, with their useful heat-sensing darkvision, quietly followed her down a dirt path on the hill. Soon, other drow squadrons joined Chalrath's, each meeting at the bottom of hill range.
Every drow war band was led by a specialized war priest, but of all of the drow bands, Chalrath was the commander of the entire operation. The success of the drow invasion was completely her responcibility. Failure to the drow clergy back in the underground city of Menzobarranzan meant death. A slow and horrible death.
As Chalrath looked upon her attack force, she smiled to herself. Year after year of planning went into this surface raid. They had one of the biggest raiding forces from Menzoberranzan since the attack on Mithral Hall years ago. Everything was organized perfectly, from the battle squadrons, the soldiers themselves, down to the fact that there was no moon this night, which would otherwise cause the drow to have to squint in the bright moonlight.
Some one thousand drow stood dead still, yearning for the blood shed to come, and natural, evil glares in their eyes. Majority of the drow stood as foot soldiers, wearing adamantite plate mail, drow-made armor, and having assortments of weapons including spears, swords and poisoned bolts for their crossbows. The battle wizards stood lined behind the common warriors, with deadly offensive spells at the ready. Lastly, at the back of the horde were twenty war priestesses, Chalrath among them. The priestesses had spells prepared to boost the speed of the drow's running and fighting capability, along with spells to create darkness, what they were used to, when they arrived inside the city.
As Chalrath stood before them, she prepared a short pre-battle speech in her mind. Using her hand gestures, she began to prepare her warriors and wizards. Every single drow before her stared intently upon her, never missing a sentense she signaled with her hands.
"We are priveledged, raiders. Every one of you has been hand picked by Lolth herself, for this outstanding raid. House Baenre, First House of Menzoberranzan, approved of you, and I myself overlooked your training. For over ten years you have helped take part in the planning and for twenty more you, yourselves, have trained for this. Now you get the pleasure of living it. We go, this night, on the surface, to a weakling city called Silverymoon, that is enriched by magic artifacts,, weapons and best of all, thousands of surface elves to smite!" Chalrath paused, spitting the words "surface elves" like the deadliest and the most disgusting words that could exist.
"We go now, friends! Warriors! Champions! We go now to make this the most successful invasion from Menzoberranzan in existence! Make Lolth proud!"
Chalrath's final statement sent the army of drow into action. Without making a sound, the horde of drow split into fifty individual group, each led by a war priest, containing ten sorcerers and wizards.
Every squadron went a different direction toward Silverymoon, some toward the northern side, some southern, and several straight towards the Eastern side.
Chalrath's personal team of twenty were of the best fighters and mages in the drow city of Menzoberranzan, hand picked by herself after observing them for years. With yet another smile on her face, and confident thoughts in her mind, Chalrath and her stealth team set out towards the eastern wall, running past the famed Moon Bridge.
"Prepare the grappling hooks."
***
Part One
15 Nightal, 1371 D.R.
Ten days earlier
Nymith Tarith the elf, known to his friends as Nym, sat in his favorite tavern, The Elven Lyre, enjoying a rare glass of Elven Wine. The Elven Lyre was a cozy place, a typical four walled tavern with a warm fire roasting in the fireplace, perfect for the current cold, snowy morning in this mid winter day. Purple cushioned chairs were scattered around the room for comfort, and several round tables for small parties to socialize. It was located at a residential corner at the north and eastern side of Silverymoon, a popular place for elves, bards, and all assortments of musicians and poets alike. The Elven Lyre was a place for friends to chat and gossip, perform their newly made ballads, songs and poems, and socialize with each other on a cold winter day, like present.
Nym was a bard himself, having graduated the famous University of Silverymoon over thirty years ago. Nym earned his diploma of music and magic from the University's separate school, The Lady's College, an academy for sorcerers and bards alike. Since then, Nym stayed around the Northern regions surrounding Silverymoon, helping the city with orc trouble, sometimes performing his musical talents in small theaters. He was very wealthy, one of the wealthiest elves in Silverymoon, and his attire always showed it. Currently, he was wearing a light green tunic made of Elven fabric, made by the Elf taylor he always went to. Over the tunic was a dark green surcoat, also of elven material. His chausses, or tights, were also green and made of fine wool. He had a masterwork black jeweled belt wear he wore a his long sword sheath. He appeared to be a high ranking noble, but really he was a rich commoner.
Lately, Nym was involving himself with the Harpers quite a bit.
Nym did not know what the Harpers were exactly until he became involved. The Harpers were a semi-secret organization across the realms that sought to keep balance across the lands. They opposed evil organization such as the Zhentarim, who's quest was to dominate tradeways in the heartlands. Often the Harpers meddled and thwarted the plans of villains about to commit crime and evil.
The Harpers first became interested in Nym's talents over a decade ago, when the Elf's skill with music, magic and wilderness travel became apparent. Nym, only 138 years old at the time, very young for an elf, joined with a small band of adventurers from Silverymoon to drive an orc tribe farther north, away from the city. The Harpers sent an agent of theirs to join the band as well. The agent, a ranger named Luthe, observed the party closely for weeks. After he saw Nym's swift take down of three orcs by using a spell to enhance his sword's speed, he reported back to one of the High Harpers. That's the reason? Nym thought to himself. Killing orcs? There must be something more.
Nym didn't have much more time to think about his involvement with the Harpers, because at that moment, the person he was to meet arrived with a wide spread smile on his face.
"Lovely day, isn't it Nym?" The speaker was a short and thin, black haired young man, by all appearance twenty years old, wearing a fur coat and black boots. Because of the fact that he wore his hair long enough to cover his ears, few people knew he was a half elf. The half-moon elven man raised his eye brows in questioning and put on a fake smile as Nym looked over.
"To be honest, Chand, I am in no mood for our usual jokes and sarcasm," Nym replied calmly, commenting on the way the two friends always sarcastically spoke with each other. "It is not you, by any means, but the Harpers have interfered with my personal life many times in the last week and I am not sure how long I can take it."
"This is important news, trust me."
"The last time I trusted you, Chand, I ended up almost getting ambushed by a giant of an ogre mage after carelessly taking your advise on a shortcut," Nym laughed to himself quietly. Chand smiled to himself after hearing the elf's laughter, a melodic and musical sound that filled a persons heart with hope. Chand looked at Nym sadly, not wishing to break the Sun Elf's happiness with the bad news to come. A short pause fell between the two Harpers as Chand tried to figure out how to put the news.
For a moment he observed Nym's exotic elven features for the first real time. The majority of sun elves like Nym, also called gold elves, were beautiful to everyone that looked upon them. Nym's golden-bronze skin was uncommon among all races accept sun elves themselves, and his large almond shaped eyes were of a golden color with light blue flecks. He stood a hand span over five feet, and was quite strong for an elf of his thin and agile frame.
"I have news of the drow," Chand said. "It turns out, our Harper Scout was correct with his information. Dorn sent him out again. The drow are planning something bad, but what it is, the Harpers nor the Knights in Silver do not know. We suspect a raid. Somehow the drow developed the courage and a plan. What they've had all along though, is the deadly skill."
Nym slowly took in what was just said. The Harpers had a challenge cut out for them, one that would test them to the limits.
Nymith used to belonged to the Moonstar's, a section of the Harpers run by Khelben Arunsun, the archmage of Waterdeep. The Moonstars mainly operated in the north, spanning from Waterdeep to Silverymoon itself. Recently, the Moonstar's fell out of league with the Harper's because of differences in goals, and no longer consider themselves the same organization. Nym himself tried not to take sides, but in the end left the Moonstar organization and remained with the Harpers. Few Moonstars could be found at this eastern area of Silverymoon.
"This is bad news indeed, Chand," Nym finally replied. "I am grateful you told me."
"High Harper Dorn Lannyin told me to tell only the people that needed to know no matter what. I told the commander of the Knights in Silver, and some of the knights. Dorn told Taern Hornblade. You are the first of the Harpers I have told, and the first one to know, besides Dorn and I. I am responsible for telling at least the main Harpers in Silverymoon. There is no one I would trust with this information more then you, Nym." Chand smiled. He considered Nym a good friend, almost like a brother to look up to. If he couldn't trust Nym, who could he trust?
"It is logical that Dorn would not want many to know. A dark elf raid would cause panic and confusion. Until we have facts it's best to leave this in the dark," Nym reasoned. "I am not sure what is to come of this, but I do know I will do the best I can to prevent it."
"And I, as well."
The two sat in silence with one another as Nym drank another glass of expensive Elverquisst. He had the money to spare. Chand ordered a drink, and soon they were sipping and chatting about other rumors and topics.
"So did you here about Evermeet, Nym?" Chand asked. "Wasn't too long ago, some rebel elf led an invasion, almost wiped the entire island out and took it for himself."
"I did hear that. I am a Harper as well as a bard, Chand, drawn by news and lore. The elf's name was Kymil Nimesin. Wasn't more then a decade ago where he was tried for the murder of twenty Harpers. It seemed to the elves of Evermeet that his life goal was to destroy the monarchy and return it to the old ways- the high council. He was in a prison out of our plane of existance for years, condemned by the Harpers. He somehow escaped. Next time he was seen he was backed up by a fleet of ships containing Red Wizards of Thay, Zhentarim soldiers, renegade elves and even drow."
"The traitor elf allied with drow! The scum! Where is he now? Did they catch him?" Chand asked.
"No. Sadly he escaped justice once again. He hasn't been seen since."
When the two friends were finished with their chatting, after drinking several glasses of wine and the likes, they said their good byes and headed home, promising to inform each other on news.
Nym lived close to the Elven Lyre, in the center a beautifully and magically grown giant oak tree in a friendly neighborhood known as The Nymph Willows. As he walked to his comfortable and magically grown home he didn't even notice his beautiful surroundings, he had lived in there all his life.
Silverymoon was a city of magic and beauty. Everywhere you walked there was beautiful architecture surrounding you. Giant trees filled the city, like the oak Nym lived in. The trees soared to the sky, seeming to touch the fluffy clouds above. Beautifully cobbled streets ran through the entire establishment, curving and swooping like a trickling stream uphill and downhill. Everyone that lived in Silverymoon had a colorful garden planted around their home. Vines ran up the walls of shops, ending in a uniquely tiled or shingled roof. The towers of Silverymoon's mages soared to the sky, and at night they were part of the stars, full of fairy lights and other magical light spells.
All the common races lived in Silverymoon in peace and harmony. Dwarves were neighbors to halflings. Gnomes lived beside elves. Everybody respected one another with honor and tolerance.
The Knights in Silver, Silverymoon's elite army, policed the streets, ensuring safety for all and protection to the weak. Certain areas of Silverymoon prohibited spell casting and some had wards, making many spell misfires and wild castings.
Nym was just passing by Quiliue's Shop of Rings and Wands, one of his favorite places to visit, when he was suddenly pulled into an ally between two buildings. A gloved hand covered his mouth and a dagger rested in front of his throat. A deep and raspy voice spoke to him angrily.
"You don't tell anybody anything, got it? You pass any information to a meddling Harper and you and that half-elf are going to find knives in each of your backs." As soon as the masked man came he was gone with the swoosh of his black cloak before Nym could draw his longsword or cast a spell. A fraction of a second passed before Nym heard the quiet sound of metal hitting the cobblestone ground. He looked down to the ground and there lay his Harper Pin, a crescent moon and a harp surrounded by four stars. He picked it up, brushed it off, and pinned it back to his left shoulder, covering it with his green cloak made of soft and rare elven star silk. Most Harpers hid their pins from public view.
The man that threatened him must have somehow unfastened the Harper Pin and let it fall to the ground in the blink of an eye as further intimidation.
As Nym walked out of the ally he cast a wary eye around the bustling morning street crowd searching for a black cloaked man. Few things scared Nym, and a threat from a cowardice masked man with a dagger almost made Nym laugh. Still, his natural curiosity compelled him to find the man. I'll keep a look out, he thought to himself.
When he finally reached his big oak tree home and got to the upstairs, his emotions rose from curiosity to anger. The first level of his home, containing his dining table and small kitchen, was perfectly fine. The second level of his home was trashed with various items thrown around, his furniture broken and smashed to bits and paper ripped up all around, probably his spell scrolls. His personal room was in ruins. The only things in tact were his various magic items that would not break for the vandal.
He picked up the few things he could salvage, a few wands, a couple scrolls and, Tymora's luck, his beloved Lyre. As he began to pick up his room manually and using object movement spells, he assumed the black cloaked man did this, and realized how dangerous the man really could be.
The drow had inner allies.
***
Taern Hornblade, holder of the Silver Throne, ruler of Silverymoon, and lawful and skilled mage, was not pleased to hear Nymith Tirith's news. After picking up the remnants of his room and buying a few new furniture items at a popular store of imports, he immediately reported his news to the ruler of Silverymoon itself. It seemed the logical thing to do.
"I see," Taern replied, trying to keep his calm all the while that the bard sun elf told his story.
"These drow are not stupid, we've known that for years," Taern said. "To think one of our own would betray us? Silverymoon is supposed to represent peace and tranquility, not traitors and liars!" Nym searched his mind for a way to bring some good news to Taern, to calm the wizard. No thought came to his mind.
"Using my many resources I'll find this man, I promise," Nym said, determination in his eye. "I am honored that you heard me out, sir Hornblade. I believe I can smite this drow problem and destroy their inside resources with a little help."
As Nym got up out of the big red velvet chair he sat in, Taern stopped him abrubtly.
"Report all findings to me, elf. Silverymoon is in danger and very few know about it. We have no hint as to the size of the drow raiding party, no idea when it will happen and still not sure as to if it is to happen. The officials are halfway out of their seats out of pure nervousness for the city. A treasonous bastard will only make thing worse. If we don't find out more information soon, I'm going to alert all the guard, and be forced to mobilize the Knights in Silver and the wizards of Silverymoon. I do not wish to do that for the sake of our city's people. So you see, the city is in your hands, friend elf. Go now. For Silverymoon and its people."
***
Nym did not feel much better after leaving the palace. The way Taern Hornblade described the fate of Silverymoon being up to his insignificant self made the sun elf feel too important for his liking. Most sun elves were arrogant, ignorant, and lacking humbleness. Most of those elves learned those mannerisms while living on Evermeet, the island for and containing Elves. Nym grew up in Silverymoon, seeing in change over the century, with only his mother to raise him. His mother was quiet and had none of the typical gold elven mannerisms. After going to college, Nym grew to be around more humans and not just his mother, picking up human humor and sarcasm.
With renewed determination and confidence but lack of enthusiasm, Nym made his way to Chand's home.
"My resources," Nym muttered to himself.
***
Part Two
The Harper ranger and scout, Jhack "the Jackel" Tinly, was traveling through the underground tunnels at surprisingly fast speeds for a surface dweller. He dodged stalagmites and stalactites as he raced on and on into the dark, with nothing but a magically enhanced glowing stick that could be extinguished with a simple word.
In the past few weeks the Harpers had been sending him on missions, spying on the movement of the drow in their subterranean caverns.
Jhack didn't dare go too deep, staying close to the exit out of the Underdark to the surface. He knew the individual caverns and tunnels well enough by now, and he spent his days scouting a five mile underground area.
Small drow parties showed themselves several times, more times than normal for this close to the surface, but unable to hear them or understand their silent hand language, Jhack could only watch and wonder what they were saying.
At least once or twice dark elves came near to spotting him hiding on high cavern ledges. With their amazing darkvision they could see anything warm blooded.
Jhack also had his share of fights without the help of the evil drow. He fought a group of Duergar, evil underground dwarves, and managed to escape with his life as they pursued him. And just yesterday he fought an angry underground serpent, slaying it without getting poisoned.
At this moment though, Jhack was running frantically from four drow themselves, his first time seen by dark elves since his mission was assigned. He was a skilled ranger and swordsman, but doubted he could match even two drow in combat. With their wicked twin sword fighting styles their attacks always came in swift and deadly. He had spent months studying drow fighting styles, anatomy and culture and more before his expedition, and now he wished he had brought someone else along. The drow were known for being fierce warriors, cunning and resourceful, and for the first time in many years, pure fear engulfed Jhack.
As Jhack took a swift turn through a passage to his left, he ducked down and crawled on hands and knees through a tunnel he could barely fit in. He crawled as fast as he could, skinning his hands on the ground along the way, but kept going as he heard the pursuit of the drow not far behind.
The surface light shined straight ahead about 100 paces. Just a little father. Almost there. Jhack said a silent prayer to Mielikki, the goddess of rangers and wilderness, and continued crawling.
As he passed a separate tunnel entrance, a plan formed in his mind. He went inside the tunnel that he saw, turning away from the original one and the light and instead into more darkness. There, he lay on his stomach and waited.
The drow are probably adapted to surface light, Jhack thought. They will chase me out there until I am dead. What do I have to lose?
Slowly, Jhack unsheathed his beloved short sword, a beautifully crafted sword made and enchanted in Silverymoon. It was perfect for swift one handed attacks. Without much space to move, he rested his sword in front of him, his right hand gripping it strongly.
Finally, after waiting what seemed like hours, but was really minutes, the first drow passed by the Jhack's tunnel, not bothering to look to the side at the ranger waiting in the darkness. With a swift sword lunge, he stabbed the drow fiercely, going through the dark elf's black leather armor and finding his heart. The dark elf slumped down silently face first in the tunnel, never to move again.
Thinking his companion had stopped for any amount of strange reasons, the drow behind the now dead one tried to shove the dead body forward again and again. Realizing the real reason the tunnel leader wasn't moving, the drow shrugged off the loss and crawled over his one-time friend hastily. Thinking his friend's death from an arrow from the outside, the drow soldier continued on, the lead one covering his face with a small metal shield to prevent death from missiles.
After the three remaining enemies were passed his tunnel, Jhack scrambled out and quickly crawled up behind the drow at the back of the line. With another swift thrust to his victims back, that drow slumped to the tunnel floor as well.
Holding the dead drow's body in front of his, he made his way for the exit, pushing the body along to make it look just like it was alive and still crawling. The two left had already made it out of the tunnel and into the forested mountains. Gazing back into the tunnel to see what became of their straggling friend, they saw the body Jhack pushed and thought nothing of it. When Jhack made it to the exit at last, he did several things at once.
Shoving the dead body out of the hole, he dived out of the tunnel head first, did a somersault on the rocky ground and flung a dagger at one of the bedazzled drow scouts. The dagger found its mark in the unlucky drow's neck and he fell to the ground with a wide eyed look on his face.
With anger in his eyes, the last remaining dark elf unsheathed two swords from his side. He snapped the two swords together hilt first to create a double bladed sword with a very long handle.
Jhack held his short sword in front of him and went into a defensive crouch, planning in his mind the best way to defeat this foe that he had studied so much about. Jhack stared at the ebony skinned drow. Drow were shorter then most subraces of elves, most not even five feet tall. He had white hair and pale, almost transparent eyes that stared at Jhack, the human intruder, with deadly intent.
"You were foolish to go in there," the drow spoke.
Jhack, startled by the fact that the dark elf knew the common language of surface dwellers, put his sword down for a brief moment.
"We can talk about this. What is your name?"
The drow smiled and narrowed his eyes. "Saarberae," he said. "And no, we cannot talk about this. You are a spy and shall be killed in honor of Lolth!"
Saarberae began twirling his double sided and double bladed sword in a circular motion. It spun vertically in the air, gaining momentum and speed with each twirl, until it looked like a big whirling magical portal leading to a distant world. Slowly, Saarberae began walking towards Jhack, the sword still spinning around.
Jhack had never seen such a defensive technique used before, both the sword and the spinning move was foreign to him. He raised his short sword and murmured a prayer to help save him from this skilled sword master.
Saarberae attacked suddenly and with absolutely no warning. It seemed to Jhack that the sword was still spinning as the dark elf tried to cut him down from above and come up with a blade from below at the same time. The noble ranger had no time to block both attacks at the same time with his one sword, which forced him to dance around, jumping back with each attack from the small but deadly drow.
Farther and farther! The drow pushed the ranger towards a steep cliff leading to jagged rocks two hundred feet below. Until this day, Jhack had never met a person who could match him in battle. The small drow changed all that.
Jhack finally found himself with his back to open space, just inches from falling to his death. With all the agility he could must, he rolled to the ground, propelled by his feet, and came up on the opposite side of where he was, safe from the cliff and with his back now to the mountain side.
Thinking he had the upper hand, Jhack confidently attacked the drow with several slashes that Saarberae easily deflected. Suddenly, as if the dark elf was just warming up before, he attacked Jhack faster then he ever had before. Jhack's arms could not keep up with the speed of the dark elf berzerker. Saarberae stabbed viciously into Jhack's shoulder, just in between the shoulder bone. Heaving his double sword up like a lever, Saarberae lifted Jhack off the ground with all the strength the little drow could muster, spun him around once, and let the ill fated ranger fly off the mountain cliff into the sun setting sky.
"You were foolish to go in there."
***
Chand was just as upset when he heard Nym's tale as Taern had been.
"Traitor!" He yelled. "Who would do such a thing?" Chand seemed to be seething with anger as he paced back and forth through his small four walled cottage. A fire blazed in the hearth and Chand's pet, a well trained, all brown dog, lay stretched in front of it.
Chand kneeled down and scratched behind the dogs ears. "Good boy, Roddly." Nym smiled. He'd known the dog Roddly for years, and became attached with him right from the beginning.
"You will help me, right Chand?"
Chand looked shocked. "Of course I will Nym. We can even get started now. I know the perfect person to help us too."
The two friends set off away from Chand's house with Roddly the dog trailing behind them. Nym followed, having no idea where and who this friend of Chand's was. After walking down many separate cobblestone paths and roads, passing by a bakery and a blacksmith's shop along with many other smaller residences, the two arrived in front of a giant tree, similar to Nym's home. It was almost twice as tall and twice as wide as Nym's home was, looking more ancient and magical too. Nym stared at the giant tree-like residence. He'd passed it by a few times before, but it was too regal and magical looking he never dreamed of going in.
"Nice place..." Nym trailed off, staring up into the branches. "So who lives here?" Chand shook his head, chuckling to himself. "You'd never guess it. A pleasant fellow. You would think living in a house like this he'd be some feral wood elf or so.... No, no. His name is Brallihl Shorrn, the tiniest human I have ever seen... Good at collecting information and the best thief I've ever met, as old as he is."
After Chand knocked on the entrance to the magnificent structure, the giant oak doors swung open revealing indeed a very small, thin old man, standing under five feet tall and wearing giant spectacles that magnified his eyes several times. His hair was everywhere at once, a very untidy mass of frizzled gray atop his head. The man, Brallihl, smiled, beckoned the two in and closed the double doors behind them.
"Chand! My son! Come in, come in. Make yourselves at home. And who is your friend?"
Chand patted Nym on the shoulder. "Nym Tarith, a friend and fellow Harper. We're here to ask for a little help with... a conflict involving a man who threatened Nym. Could you help us, Brall?"
"Of course, of course! We will get to the bottom of this, I will be right back with some refreshments." The old man waddled off through a door into what seemed to be his kitchen.
"Son?" Nym asked, as soon as the man was clear of hearing.
"Brall and I have known each other forever. I was like the son he never had and he was like an uncle to me. He was my father's best friend and was always around our house helping out."
"I see," Nym said. "How can he help us?"
"Brall was a Harper a while back, used for his mastery in alchemy and famous around the North for his ingenious detective skills. He seems to have knowledge of every skill world-wide, including some magic. If there was someone needed to be found, they'd come for Brall. Good at picking locks too..." Chand trailed off as if he'd said too much, then pretended to examine a glass sculpture on a table.
Brall's earliest history as a thief was not known by many. When he was not twenty winters old he had to stay alive by stealing from who he could in the huge city of Waterdeep, even killing here and there. When he was finally caught by the city watch, he escaped the city prison, fled to Silverymoon, changed his name, and took up alchemy. By the time he became a Harper, his dishonorable past was long forgotten by him until he later revealed it to the trusted half elf, Chand.
Brall returned a few moment later with a metal tray full of wine and pastries. After snacking on the delicacies, the three talked about their business in coming.
"So," Brallihl said. "You want to track this man? See if he has anything to do with the drow?"
Nym and Chand both nodded. The old alchemist took off his thick glasses and began cleaning them with the sleeve of his green robe.
"Then I can help you. First of all, we need to use Nym as bait. I know that sounds bad, my elven friend, but I've done this before. If all goes according to plan, we will capture this treasonous fellow before tomorrow's sun sets."
They spent the rest of the day making a planning, practicing what to say and what to do. It turned out Brall was really a genius, as Chand had said, and his plan was flawless. After the two Harpers went home, Brall spent the rest if the night making an alchemy potion for use the next day.
Chuckling to himself, the small man was excited to be doing something different from his boring retired life.
"This shall be fun."
***
Dorn Lannyin, one of the High Harpers and a veteran of countless orc battles as a Knight in Silver, paced his study back and forth, his hands clasped behind him on his back. His grim set face was concentrating and thinking while stroking his thick black beard. He was a very tall man, with giant muscles covering his entire war built body..
As he paced his study, morning sunlight streamed through the open window shedding light and hope into the room. A sudden knock on the door brought him to rapt attention.
"Come in."
A young man walked in with brown hair and a whiskered unshaven face. He wore a green cloak that openly revealed a Harper pin on his left shoulder.
"You bring news, Zan?" Dorn said eagerly.
"Yes, I do. I scouted Jhack's region. Unfortunately I found the brave ranger dead. He was at the bottom of a steep cliff, obviously defeated in battle with a sword wound to the upper chest and tossed off into the jagged rocks below, or he fell. I tracked the winner of the battle. I am fearful to say the tracks led to an Underdark entrance. If you don't mind me to say, Sir Lannyin, but I fear greatly whoever defeated Jhack in battle. I have never seen a single man who could best him in a fight."
"Drow aren't men, Zan. They are evil lawless cowards that strike on raids against the weak." Dorn tried to hide his strong emotional hate towards the dark elves of the Underdark.
Dorn's personal history with drow was not pleasant in any way. Over forty years ago his family was killed by drow who were raiding a small village to the north of Silverymoon. The screams of his sister and mother being slaughtered by the ruthless marauders rang freshly in his ears as if it happened moments ago, and the fierce battle cries and shouts of his father as he fought fiercely against five dark elves with nothing but an axe, were branded into Dorn's memory.
"Can we be sure it was drow, Zan?"
"Definitely. The prints were light and small, I could recognize them any day," Zan paused calmly, thinking about what to say next.
"What's do you want me to do, Sir?" Zan asked boldly. He was a brave, but halfway foolish young man that was dedicated in the Harpers and their activities. His ambition would sadly someday get him killed, Dorn thought.
"Nobody is to go back in there. From now on our spying is to be done from the outer areas of the mountains. I want you to go with two others of your choice and patrol Jhack's old region from the outside day and night. Send someone to report back to me every other day."
"I will leave now."
When Zan was gone Dorn immediately went to the Elven Lyre tavern where Chand, his half-elven agent, almost always was. When Chand turned out to not be in the tavern drinking like normal, Dorn began searching for him through the many streets of the district of homes called Sword Hedge Estates.
As he walked down a cobbled road past the colorful signs of various shops, he saw a fellow Harper, the intelligent and resourceful sun elf bard, Nymith. It looked as if Nym was talking with a man cloaked in complete black and casually wielding two daggers. Slowly, Dorn, the retired Knight crept up and listened to the conversation. As he got closer Dorn noticed that Nym's hand were bound together with a leather strap and he was facing the opposite direction of the suspicious man's face.
"You will cooperate or die," the man said. Nym shook his head slowly and closed his eyes as if to rid himself of the man's stupidity.
"Do you think you will get away with operating with drow in a city that so severly frowns upon such a race?" Nym said, his melodic elven voice seemed to sing by itself in a mocking tone. "You were more foolish than I thought."
Nym continued, smirking. "You came back, risking your identity, with a second threat, then expect me to help you or else you will kill me?" Nym laughed quietly to himself. The calm soothing sound of good and righteousness sent shivers down the evil cloaked man's spine. It was too friendly and inviting for his likes.
"Yes, you stupid elf! You will help me, or die!"
"Stupid? We shall see."
Nym lifted his hand to reveal the tattered remains of the straps he was once bound in.
"How'd you-"
Bright lights of gold, yellow, green, blue, and orange blinded the man for an instant, sending him falling to the ground from surprise. As he scrambled to get up, rubbing his eyes to rid himself of the blindness, he hurriedly tried to scramble away.
A quick kick by Nym caused the man to fly several feet and hit the ground on his back. With a smooth motion, Nym had his beautifully crafted longsword out and battle ready. The man had no time to get up before Nym attacked him, slashing with his longsword several times. The man barely had time to parry each blow with his small dagger. A swift circular motion of Nym's wrist caused his longsword to twirl and disarm the mysterious man. The man rolled over on to his stomach, kicked out, and landed on his feet. Before Nym knew it, the man was running at top speed trying to get away.
Nym pursued him through the cobblestone streets and down narrow allies, passing jewelry vendors and rolling carriages. He sheathed his sword and while running and concentrating on the same time, he began casting a spell of invisibility. To people watching on the streets, Nym suddenly disappeared from view. He dodged innocent bystanders, careful not to run into the people he could see but couldn't see him.
The man continued to stay into view of the sun elf, but barely, his dark cloak trailing wildly behind him like a flag in the wind. As he came down another narrow back ally, he jumped onto an iron ladder leading to the rooftops and began running hastily across the roofs of the city. Nym followed behind, carefully taking out the potion that Brall had made the night before.
The man looked back cautiously to see if anyone followed him. With a grateful sigh, he collapsed in exhaustion on the roof he was on, trying to catch his breath. Suddenly, out of no where came a voice.
"Traitor!" The familiar melodic voice rang. The man felt a sword point resting at his throat before he knew it.
A five and a half foot tall elf with bronze kin and black hair suddenly appeared into view right in front of the tired man sitting on the roof. Nym's invisibility spell had been disrupted when he prepared to stab the cowardice fugitive man. The cloaked one watched in horror as the elf backed away a few steps and flung a vial of some sort of liquid at him. There was a huge explosion of light and sound and the man blacked out.
***
Several minutes later, Chand, Dorn and Brall all caught up to Nym and the unconscious man on the rooftop. Brall and Chand looked at each other and smiled.
"Obviously the flask of potion worked," Brall said.
"Yes, it did, didn't it? What was that potion anyway?" Nym asked. Chand and Dorn looked to Brall for answers as well.
"It does several things. First, it knocks the victim out. Secondly, when he awakes he will not remember the last few hours, and finally, he will be compelled to tell the truth to all questions asked to him."
"That's a powerful potion," Nym said. "I didn't know you were a mage as well as an alchemist. That is a perfect way to mix alchemical potions to knock out victims, mixed with potions of honesty and what not. By the way, how did you know about our plan?" Nym turned to Dorn who he had just noticed.
"Honestly, I had no idea of your plan, and still don't. I just saw a fellow Harper in trouble and went to help him. Then I saw Chand cast that spell to destroy those leather bonds around your hands, so then I really knew something was happening."
"What we were actually doing," Chand said, "was catching a suspected traitor to the silver throne. He threatened Nym with death if he ever gave anyone information about the drow plan, so we set a trap for him with the help of old Brall here and-"
"Shall we wake the sleeping ogre?" Brallihl interrupted randomly.
Several minutes later, after splashing water on his face, making loud noise and yelling in his ear, the unconscious man on the rooftop awoke with a terrible groan.
"Where am I!" He yelled. "I... I can't see! I'm blind! Help someone, I'm blind!" Chand slapped the man across the face. "Shut up! You're not blind, you'll be able to see in a few minutes, the explosion just distorted your vision for a little while."
The man frantically rubbed his eyes as if they were covered with mud and dirt. After several times, the panicked man started yelling and screaming for more help. Annoyed, Dorn suddenly lost his temper.
"Listen here you traitorous bastard! Shut up and cooperate and we'll let you live. Maybe." He muttered the last part quietly.
"Never, scum!" The man sneered. "Go ahead and kill me, you won't get information out of me."
Dorn immediately drew a long and slender dagger and put it up to the cloaked man's throat. "Ok," Dorn said. "If you insist."
The man screamed, tried to get away, and was quickly pushed back to the ground by the huge knight veteran. If only the blind man could see Dorn strength, and his hatred for drow and drow allies.
"What is your name," Dorn said to the man as he put pressure on the mans neck, almost choking him. The man coughed several times before his short reply came out.
"Mikoln," he managed to say.
"And what are you doing dealing with drow!"
"Nothing! I... I-"
Without warning Dorn hit him over the head with his dagger hilt knocking Mikoln's head back, dazing him without putting back into unconsciousness. When he recovered, Mikoln starting yelling answers.
"The drow offered me one-thousand gold pieces for information about the city and its entrances! Then they offered me several magical items including enchanted adamantite swords if I eliminated anyone who found out! They were tempting me I, I just couldn't resist!"
"Fool!" Dorn yelled. "Dealing with drow is the stupidest thing you could possibly do! They would kill you as soon they were done with you. And don't you know adamantite turns to nothing but powder in daylight after a few days?"
Mikoln looked shocked with a boyish innocent look on his face. "I didn't know! I was foolish! Just let me live, please?"
Dorn wasn't convinced. "What did you tell them?"
"I told them about all the main entrances and the height, and thickness of the walls and about the palace and its inhabitants. And of the Knights in Silver and their numbers," He stopped for a second then added, "I'm sorry!"
"What are the scum planning to do?"
At that exact moment Mikoln lunged at Dorn, his vision obviously returned, with a hidden dagger he grabbed from the inside of his boot. Dorn's reflexes served him well as he narrowly dodged out of the way, leaping to the side. The black cloaked man flung his dagger at Dorn and ran across the rooftops once more, not waiting to see where his dagger hit.
The thrown dagger whizzed by Dorn, slashing into the side of his stomach and sending him to the ground. As Brall stayed back with Dorn to give him a healing potion, Chand and Nym sprinted after the escapee.
Frantically, Mikoln leaped across the thatched cottage roofs, his vision slowly returning and confident that he would elude the two in pursuit.
As the quick runner Chand gained on the cloaked man, Mikoln leaped across a particularly long gap between two homes. As Mikoln realized he wouldn't make the leap, he tried frantically to at least land in the hay stack below to break his twenty foot fall. Suddenly he felt himself stop in mid air, levitating a few feet above the hard ground. He saw the elf above on a roof as he summoned Mikoln back up to him on the roof obvious controlling him with his levitation spell.
Just as Mikoln was just feet from the elf, he attempted to kick Nym while he was still in the air. The kick made Nym lose his concentration and as fast as he had lashed out, Mikoln had fallen and hit the ground at tremendous speed, head first.
"Damn it all!" Nym cursed. "The fool killed himself. I had a hard enough time levitating an object of such weight and any little distraction would have made me drop the foolish fellow."
"Well at least we got what we did out of him," Chand offered.
Nym just shook his head, muttering to himself of the stupidity of most humans.
Not long after they alerted the authorities and had them take Mikoln's body away, they returned to where Dorn lay healing.
"He's not bad is he?" Chand asked.
Brall, kneeling on the ground beside Dorn, smiled up at the worried half-elf. "He'll be fine, gods know big Dorn has seen worse wounds than this. I gave a healing potion and a sleeping potion all in one to ensure that he feels no pain. Help me here, let's go back to my estate."
The three carried Dorn back to Brall's house, which took over an hour considering they were carrying a man over 200 and some pounds. A thin elf, a just as slim half elf and old man can't be expected to do much more, can they?
***
To the east of Silverymoon, and deep below the surface, the drow matron consulted with one of her many spies. They talked slowly and thoroughly, determined to leave no details out.
"Mikoln lies dead, Mother Xzaalin. Our two other human spies in the city saw it happen. They say he was thrown off the roof of a cottage by none other than Harpers. And one was a surface elf." The drow spy talking stopped talking abruptly and for no apparent reason, other than the hatred for elves of the surface. He had just returned from consulting with one of the human spies above and was fearful to report the news to the Matron, who often physically displayed her anger.
Now the tiny Matron Xzaalin stood as tall as her skinny four foot frame could stretch, her tiny pale eyes narrowing as she spoke, and spitting out the words said like venom.
"I want you to tell those worthless humans, that all known Harpers must be killed, in secrecy and very subtly. They need to kill any they see. Failure to do this will result in their death. And I want that surface elf alive, whoever he is. That is all."
The drow spy bowed to the Matron and hurried off through the tunnels to get to the surface, praising Lolth that the Matron for once did not unleash her fury upon him.
***
Zan sat up in a tall evergreen tree, just a few hundred feet from the Underdark entranced that he tracked the drow too. It was just his luck that only a day after he arrived at his patrol station he spotted a drow climbing out of a small passage on hands and knee. Without even squinting through the sunlight, the drow began to wait by a boulder settled nearby.
"He doesn't even squint at the daylight?" Zan said to himself. Most drow would feel unimaginable pain after surfacing and getting a glimpse of the sun. Odd things were going on and Zan didn't quite understand any of them.
"This is not good," Zan whispered. "They've adapted to sunlight.
***
That next day Nym left his home in the Elf Willows and made his way, cautiously, to Dorn's home, a good half hour walk away in the richest part of Silverymoon. The sky began to turn dark gray suddenly, most likely a sign of severe rain and thunder storms. Nym pulled his cloak hood over his head and continued down the road.
He arrived at Dorn's huge villa, an odd exotic home for this far north that reminded the retired knight of his earliest days in Calimshan. It had orange colored tiles on the roof meant to keep heat out way down in the deserts of Calimshan. There were several odd plants that would never grow up North too. How Dorn kept them alive in the cold weather, Nym would never know. Nym knocked on the giant doors made of Chultan wood. Dorn's servant accepted Nymith in.
The elf waited in the front lounge room for just over ten minutes before Dorn finally came.
"Ah, welcome Nym. What brings you hear?"
"I came for a few reasons. I wanted to check on you, make sure you're alright from yesterday. I trust that you are?"
"Yes, the wound has healed thanks to kind Brall's potions."
"Excellent. And the number two reason, I came to talk to you of the recent talk of drow. We have already caught one spy, isn't it a possibility that there are two? Three? What if they were each offered thousands of gold pieces, that they obviously will never receive from the deceiving drow, and there are more spies then we can deal with?"
Dorn did not seem at all surprised at Nym's revelation.
"I have thought about this possibility, and I have sent several men to be watching all around the city for potential suspicious men. Mikoln Decantur was a normal man, he ran a shop that sells small daggers and knives, I have bought a few weapons there. It will be very hard to sniff out the individual spies. That is one question we should have asked the man before he ran off. Who are some other spies."
A maid began dusting around Dorn's welcoming lounge room, pretending to ignore the two Harpers conversation.
"It seems that I have been found out by these traitors and spies," Nym said. "I have been threatened, and I Chand and I were known by Mikoln as Harpers. More than likely he told others. Our lives are in danger."
"That is so. So I suggest you two keep a lookout as well."
Nym raised his eyebrows. "Keep a lookout? I'm going to smite this mysterious and intriguing problem, my friend."
After only a few more minutes of chatter and good-byes, Nym left Dorn's villa and began towards his home, feeling no better then when he came. His fears were confirmed.
***
Another drow scout emerged from the small hole coming out of the Underdark. It seemed to be where all of the drow traffic came from around these parts. It was nearing dark but still, Zan could make out the form of the tiny, thin elf emerging. This time, Zan had two others with him. Kellan and Doryan, two brothers, and elven archers. There plan was dangerous and daring, and Dorn would never approve, but if it worked all suspicions would be gone. Or confirmed.
Slowly the drow crept to the opposite direction of the trio of archers who were hiding in a tree above, careful not to be seen by the drow and his heat sensing dark vision. The drow was doing just as they anticipated, going straight towards Kavar, another one like them, waiting in the tree across the way with a giant chain net.
The best archer of the trio, Kellan, slowly placed an arrow on the longbow string, reared back with all his strength, took aim, and fired! The arrow made whizzing sound as it sailed in a straight line towards the drow like an angered hornet. Just as the arrow sunk into the drows inner thigh and the drow howled in sudden pain, Kavar's net flew over the unfortunate dark elf. The drow struggled in the net, slashing with his scimitar, but the net was made of thin metal, similar to chain mail. Kevar and the trio in the other tree leapt down. They tightened the net with rope and hit the drow over the head with the butt of a sword to knock it out. With triumphant smiles on their faces and heroic feelings inside, they marched back towards Silverymoon, a very heavy net with a captured dark elf dragging behind.
***
Far beneath the ground, miles below Silverymoon, and north a little, in the city of Menzoberranzan, in the gray, dull Underdark, two drow conversed together of a plan. A plan of benefit, only for them. A plan of greed and bloodlust. An ingenious plan.
"Largan the spy told us some useful information today," Chalrath began, choosing words carefully. Anything could offend Matron Xzaalin for no particular reason.
Chalrath went on, unafraid, but cautious. "Silverymoon, traditionally, must be entered from the Moon Bridge, as you know. There aren't many other ways to enter the city without a major risk involved. Other possible entrances are heavily guarded and would require unnecessary bloodshed. Largan revealed to me a way, on the same side as the Moon Bridge, to enter without being seen. There are several giant and ancient trees scattered over the city. If we could get the squads to use grappling hooks to enter just near the Moon Bridge, we can enter easily. The problem is, we won't be close enough even with the longest of grapplings to reach a tree, and on top of that, it could make a lot of noise in the dead of night. Largan, the most trusted of our informers, will create a distraction, but only if necessary. He will then retrieve the grappling we have shot from the other side of the wall. After placing a new extension on it, he will lodge it firmly onto the tree, thus giving us access to the city. This will happen all over the city. After my first squad goes over, the raiders will go to the designated spots all over the city where the rest of us shall enter. It is flawless."
Matron Xzaalin thought about this. She looked pleased but you couldn't quite tell with her.
"Why not just extend the grappling hooks now and save the bother of Largan doing it," the Matron asked.
"We've tested it. The firing devices won't allow another twenty feet of weight inside of them, let alone fire it."
"Are there grappling hooks for every member of the raid?"
"No," Chalrath replied. "One per squad. We will be climbing along the metal rope, not pulled."
Xzaalin smiled, pleased for once in her dark life.
"Everything is beginning to sound well planned. I congratulate you on your plan. To add some flavor, kill any child you see, any surface elf, and any innocent commoner or merchant. Killing is more important then the looting. Cripple the city of its resources. Maybe someday it will be ours... Proceed with arming the raiders. You will march within five days."
***
Part Four
What the hells were you thinking?" Dorn boomed. "That was the stupidest thing you could have possibly done, and you came up with it Zan!"
All four rangers were lined up as Dorn paced back and forth yelling at them, as if they were little children. Kellan and Doryan, the two elves, were not intimidated by the big warrior, Zan and Kavar, however, were.
"You know perfectly well that when your mother died she left ME responsible for you, don't make this harder on me Zan. You're only eighteen, and granted you are a man, but I just... I care about you too much to see you get killed."
Dorn stopped pacing his study, the archers waited in complete silence, filled with dread for what was to come. Suddenly, Dorn started chuckling to himself quietly.
"You did do a good job though."
The four companions, suddenly relieved, began telling Dorn the story of their masterful capture all at once. When they were done telling the story, they awoke the drow on the floor with a minor healing potion after disarming him of everything he had, including his armor and weapons, and left nothing but its underclothing. While capturing the dark elf, they didn't see it long enough to realize it was female. Zan stared at it longingly, suddenly not so glad he captured her. She was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.
"Don't fall for its beauty Zan, their hearts are darker than coal, they just have outer beauty to hide it."
Another hour went by before Dorn could get a mage to cast a speak language spell upon the drow to get it to speak fluent common. The big veteran knight walked up to the tiny five foot drow, and stared at it, attempting intimidation. The archers four each had their blades out, although they weren't as skilled with their swords as they were with their bows.
"Elf, I think you have something to tell us, do you?"
The drow arched her head back and spit in Dorn's face.
With lightning speed, doubled by his sudden fury, Dorn unsheathed a dagger a held it right up to the drow's throat.
"First, little lady, let's start out with your name." Dorn put pressure on her throat.
"Kaarin."
"That's a little better. Now, what are you demonic little dark elves doing so close to the surface."
"I'd rather die then tell you."
"How did I know you were going to say that? Let's make this easy, and if you give me the answers I'm searching for, you'll be spared. You'll live. You have a knight's word."
"The great city of Menzoberranzan is planning a raid, organized by house Xzaalin, led by Chalrath Xzaalin."
"Gods be damned!" Dorn yelled. "When?"
The drow hesitated, knowing the giant man had anger problems.
"Within five days."
The four archers gasped in unison, from fear and surprise.
"And how are they going to do this."
The drow again paused and looked around sideways towards the window and then down at Dorn's dagger without moving her head. Sweat beaded down her forehead and the veteran warrior, seething with anger and on the verge of going into an enraged fit and completely destroying his study, waited for an answer, his eyes wild and blood shot.
Zan leaned over and whispered to Kellan. "I never realized just how much my Uncle hated drow. He is going to go berserk."
Finally, seeing no way out, the drow replied.
"Grappling hooks. Hundreds of drow and grappling hooks. They'll arrive from the east in the cover of the night and go over the walls, skipping all the real entrances to avoid unnecessary combat."
Dorn smiled. "Then we'll have to stop them won't we?"
After spending another half hour with the drow, gaining every single piece of information he possibly could and going over the drow invasion plan with this obviously high ranking female cleric, he quickly and mercilessly slit her throat and let her die on his floor. Zan and his companions stared at the elfwoman, wide eyed with terror.
"Tell the maid to clean up the mess," Dorn said to the butler as he walked out of the room.
Zan turned to his friends. "What is my uncle turning into?"
***
With Chalrath Xzaalin leading a full horde of drow behind her, they fearsome army began marching through the wilds of the Undarkdark, leaving Menzoberranzan behind and going south and east. Meeting no monsters or beasts foolish enough to get in the way of the advancing horde, the army was able to travel quickly through the tunnels. At times, the passages were so narrow that they were forced to travel single file, the line soldiers, mages and priests stretching over a mile long.
When tired they would camp in huge caverns they would find, eating fish and herds of rothe. After briefly resting they'd continue on without complaint. These were warrior born drow, fearless, trained and deadly. By the time they reached their destination, they were ready for battle.
Chalrath, with her voice magically enhanced to boom through the caverns, called out, "We wait for one more day, rest, eat, replenish yourselves. Do not leave the safe confines of the tunnels. In twenty four hours we will have what we have been waiting ten years for. It is ours."
***
25 Nightal, 1372 D.R.
It was early afternoon and plans were still being laid. All of Silverymoon knew about the drow. Word spread like a brush fire, and soon every farmer, every merchant, every beggar and commoner, the nobles, the pages, the squires, the mages and their familiars were armed with blade, club, staff, or deadly spell.
Taern Hornblade and Chand were wrong about revealing the threat. People were not panicked as they thought they'd be. They were angry. Their homes and family were being threatened and they were furious. The dark elves would die, that was for sure.
Dorn and his caravan troops were prepared, each were fully armored with the best plate mail. All armed with their chosen weapon, sword, spear, crossbow, battleaxe. It didn't matter. They were each seasoned warriors. Elves, humans and dwarves alike filled the ranks of Dorn's personal battalion.
In another part of the city and group of wood elf archers gathered, led by Kellan himself. As they tightened their bow strings, feathered their arrows and sharpened their daggers with whet stones, ancestral revenge swept through their minds.
Over by Rahjin's Tower, ten mages of exceptional power prepared offensive spells for hurling, and defensive spells for abjuring purposes.
Nym scurried about his home in the Elf Willows, loading his belt with wands and scrolls, putting magical rings onto his fingers, and protection bracers on his wrists. He polished his longsword and enchanted it even further with a spell of his own.
The peaceful city of Silverymoon was being honored by its citizens, as they prepared to protect it from a raid that would most likely destroy it.
By the time it was getting dark outside, and the bright and silver stars appeared in the sky, the forty thousand citizens of Silverymoon were prepared. Even the traitor spies thought better of warning the drow. They wanted to be on the winning side.
***
Dorn traveled in the lead covered wagon, led by several horses and a rider. Four more wagons trailed behind his towards Silverymoon Pass. The men in Dorn's wagon fingered the weapons nervously and anxiously.
The wagon came to an abrupt stop when they finally reached the beginning of the pass, miles away from Silverymoon.
"This is it," Dorn said.
The men in each wagon got out as quietly as they could, knowing drow could be anywhere around. It was pitch black outside, and freezing cold. The dead of night, the dead of winter.
Dorn's battalion traveled up a small hill and looked ahead of them towards where they came from. Sure enough, they saw the drow faintly in the starlight.
Damn! Dorn thought. There must be over a thousand of them!
Suddenly, without any signal that Dorn could see, the drow began silently trekking towards the great city, jogging at a brisk pace in the cover of the many trees. Just as silent, Dorn and his men followed.
***
"Here they come," Kellan whispered. "Remember, only get the ones in the very back so they go unnoticed."
The drow jogged past the elves in the trees, who were hidden from darkvision by leaves, mud, war paint and other masterful and useful disguise items.
Finally, after minutes, the horde of ebony skinned drow had passed the elves. All the elves looked towards their leader. Kellan nodded.
Twenty arrows flew through the air, each at a different target. Sixteen drow fell dead, unnoticed by their intent comrades. Three more volleys of arrows slowly broke the back ranks of the invading army. Kellan put his hand up to signal that that was enough. In unison, the elves dropped from the trees and sprinted silently through the woodlands just fifty yards to the left of the unnoticing drow. Again, after climbing the trees once more, they waited for the drow to get ahead, and Kellan nodded.
Slow but steady, he thought to himself.
***
Finally, Chalrath and her squad reached the eastern wall. The grappling hook was fired and their loyal spy connected it to the proper tree. Their last loyal spy.
Dorn was considerate let the drow cleric climb the metal rope to the walls and into his city before ambushing the squad. No longer caring about stealth, with a loud yell the battalion charged the squadron of drow, taking down four of them before they could respond to the surprise.
Without a cleric to enhance their fighting as they expected, they had to rely on themselves for once.
Dorn fought a skilled foot soldier wearing adamantite plate armor. After seconds Dorn took him down with his giant great sword. Not skilled enough.
A flash of light lit the night sky as a drow sorcerer hurled a lightning bolt. Two of Dorn's men screamed as the lightning scorched their entire bodies, and they fell to ground, unmoving.
A young elf named Narwick sliced the sorcerer angrily from behind, quickly getting rid of the spell threat. Without their leaders, the foot soldiers fought for their lives, now angered by this disruption of their plan. Two dwarves fought back to back with huge battleaxes, destroying anything that came their way. Although the drow squads skill exceeded the Silverymoon battalion, they were outnumbered. Within a few more minutes, it was over.
"Come," Dorn said. "We're just getting warmed up."
His force followed him, knowing that they were going to sacrifice their lives for the city they love. Twenty-five men and two women jogged behind their leader towards the next group of drow bastards, out of the original forty.
***
After hearing the sounds of battle coming from over the wall, Chalrath knew something was severely wrong. The city itself was too quiet. Panicked, she raced through the streets to help one of the squadrons over. Even if she got just a hundred of her troops over it would be a worthwhile raid. Her spy went in another direction to help a different squad. Just as her destination came into her view, a giant club smacked into her face with full force, killing her instantly.
A giant farmer stood over her, staring down. A huge wooden club resting in his hand.
"That's them dark elves everyone'd be talkin' about? Don't look so scary to me."
***
The spy, Carnin, got a full squad over the walls successfully within minutes. Right away the dark elves got to work with their looting. Upon entering a magical weapons shop, three drow right away came across difficulty when they found armed merchants waiting for them. Smiling, the owner of the shop unsheathed his rapier and charged, backed by twenty friends.
***
By the time Dorn and his group got to the third squad, there were nine of them left. They caught the last squad with only fourteen drow left, the rest already over the wall.
Seeing their third squad tonight a hundred feet ahead of them, waiting for their grappling hook to be latched onto a tree, three dwarves, an elf and five humans charged with fury and battle lust in their eyes. It didn't phase them that they were taking on twenty-five fully trained dark elves.
The red bearded dwarves went into a berserking rage swing their axes, taking drow down by the shins, finishing them off while they were on the ground. Dorn crashed his great sword time after time again into the drow, screaming oaths of vengeance for his slain family. The odds overwhelmed them and the drow finally circled in on the remaining brave souls, a cleric casting spells upon them in the background. Dorn and the three remaining dwarves, all that was left of the battalion, were all back to back in a battle circle formation when the twenty drow rushed in.
***
Chaos reigned through the city. Shouts of battle, screams from children, and dark elves dashing here and there slaying the innocent. Over six squads had made it over the walls. Unknown to the drow, five squads were taken by Dorn and his men and Kellan and his elves. The odds were still far fetched.
Nym charged out of his oak home at the first sounds of battle. Across the cobblestone street, a hay thatched house was on fire and a child was crying inside. Before Nym could rush in to help, a mage conjured a rain cloud over the home, put out the fire and saved the young lass inside.
Nym followed four drow who were intent upon killing an elf merchant and his family down the street.
The unarmed elf merchant was about to be killed when Nym leapt into the air, kicked one drow in the back, unsheathed his longsword, sliced another through the chest and shot a spell of colors out of his wand all in one fluent motion. Out of the wand emitted thousands of colors, spraying into the drows faces and blinding them. Nymith didn't deactivate the wand until all three living drow were unconscious.
Nym handed the elf merchant a short sword for his own protection and continued on his way, knowing the sword wouldn't truly protect the elf from these evil drow intruders.
***
"Ha ha ha ha ha!" The mad mage laughed and screamed hysterically from his giant tower, hurling spell after spell out of his window at drow below. As eight of the thrice bedamned dark elves rushed by, a sphere of magic rushed down from the mages hands, exploding into the middle of the raiders. The explosion created a blinding light and a fair amount of smoke. When the smoke finally cleared, a crater stood where the drow were, and the drow's bodies were littered in random places around the street. One resting on top of a small cottage.
***
The group of organized mages were enjoying themselves. They had just cast spells of daylight all across the city, blinding majority of the dark elves that weren't adapted to the bright light, used to living in the dark, subterranean caverns.
As the blinded drow rushed around, no longer sure they would make it out of the city alive, a dark elven sorcerer in black and red robes approached the mages from hundreds of feet away. Not blinded by the light, the sorcerer shouted a few words of powerful magic and a huge ball of fire leapt from his staff, traveling at astonishing speed towards the unprepared mages. Before Garrus, the most skilled mage of them all and taught by Alustriel herself, could create a protective shield around them all, the fire ball exploded in the middle of the wizards, burning them and sending them flying.
Garrus, who had succeeded in creating a shield over himself, sent five balls of red magical missiles at the sorcerer. With his natural drow resistance to spell, they harmlessly evaporated upon reaching him. Garrus, in his beautiful blue robe of wizardry, had the skill and ability to cast spells without saying any words. Soundlessly, he conjured four ogres that appeared behind the sorcerer, and commanded them to wait. The giants, with their rippling muscles and eight foot tall height, raised their clubs and flails above their heads, ready for attack.
"Leave our city alone!" Garrus yelled. With a brisk move his hand he sent the ogres into action.
Without any warning, four clubs pounded the drow sorcerer into the ground.
"Go and kill the rest!" Garrus yelled.
The ogres thundered off in search for more dark elves.
"These drow pip squeaks are funny looking!" One commented, in a deep, rumbling, but comical voice.
***
Five gold elves on aerial steeds swept down from the sky upon fleeing drow. None could escape.
One drow fleeing a pegasus rider was beheaded without mercy. An eagle rider named Marlos picked up drow in the talons of his giant eagle, fly up hundreds of feet, and released the deserving victim. A moon elf riding a magical wingless horse skillfully shot drow with arrows from above.
Surface elves and drow do not mix.
***
By the time it reached dawn, the battle of Silverymoon was over. Bodies were scattered throughout the city, blood was everywhere, drow, humans, elves, dwarves, halflings, gnomes, even a few half-orcs littered the streets. Those surveying the carnage prayed for their souls to whatever god would hear them.
The forces of Silverymoon had arose victorious from the battle that would be remembered for all time. The drow outside of the walls that never quite made it over fled to their underground homes. The day was spent burying the dead, repairing roads, homes and taverns, and raising important mages from the dead with difficult magic.
The entire evening was full of celebration. Every tavern in the city was filled with joyful people dancing, singing, and drinking to the good times.
The Elven Lyre was full of elves and bards, including Nym who was laughing and joking, drinking Elverquisst and dancing with the pretty young elf lasses. Four musicians played fast paced dance music for the happy occasion. Nym took a deep breath and sucked in the smoke filled tavern air.
"Close call."
***
The next day Nym set off to the government district of Silverymoon to find out the exact aftermath of the battle. After the hundreds of people had inquired the same thing Nym was, the guards each had a scroll listing results, and read them out loud on command.
"Six hundred dead drow, an estimated eight hundred dead civilians, sixty dead mages, four hundred and eighty five dead humans, two hundred dead elves, sixty dead dwarves, and the rest were put under a category of 'other'. Twenty burnt homes, eighteen burnt shops, thirty five thousand gold pieces worth of damage. May the government remind everyone that they owe nobody anything for their losses, but they give their sincere apologies. Thank you."
Nym sped off towards Dorn's villa, needing more information. After the initial shock of hearing that Dorn was killed in battle, Nym went to the Harper Safehouse where he talked to Kellan the elf.
"Yes, its true," Kellan informed. "Dorn and his entire troupe were killed. But it was said that their mere thirty men took out over forty-five drow! Can you believe that? As for my elves and I, we were very successful, not losing a single person to a drow blade or bolt. I'd estimate we killed over a hundred of the buggers in the cover of the night and trees. And as for your last question, I regret to inform you that your friend Chand was killed by a poisoned bolt. I'm sorry, Nym. He was said to have fought fiercely."
Nym looked sad, but for no apparent reason, tried to cover it up with another subject.
"Those gray skinned halfling excuses for elves will think twice before they try that again eh?"
"Aye," said Kellan. "I would think they'd wait another century or two."
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