Forays

[TheSpaniard]

Donning blue armor the stout and oddly jovial svirfneblin walks over the red haired woman's body, shaking his head, he retrieves the bolt that had gone through her plate mail and into her back.

"Don't know why she attacked, Leafblade, all we wanted was her gold," Hyga grins smoking a hand rolled cigarette, watching as Shur quickly rummages through her pockets.

"Bah... She's a wael ... We aren't far from the road or that large Inn so she must have felt brave," having quickly deposited the dead woman's gold in large knapsack, the Drow stands up, looking into the druid's one eye as he speaks, "Even if disguised, I rather not attract unnecessary attention. We should go separate ways for the time being."

Shrugging Hyga looks up at him, "I have some things to do anyway..." he trails off some as he peers North toward the Friendly Arm Inn, he can almost make out some people heading South on the road, "Well, Leafblade it was a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, and I like how you do business. Let's meet at the hide out in say... four hours?"

Grinning from ear to ear, he spits out his rolled cigarette on to the ground before transforming himself from gnome into powerful feline. Bounding powerfully in sabre form, Hyga blends seamlessly with the surrounding landscape before eventually leaping through the bush and disappearing.

Staying clear of the road and wearing light weight clothes unusual for the Drow Druid, Shur marches North West quickly, his face obscured by a magic cloth bound over his face. His mind wanders during the trek, as he glides through the rough terrain, making a concerted effort to avoid the Friendly Arm Inn on his way.

He thinks of home. Of the Under Dark and his mission for The Baleful Maw. The stress of supporting The Maw's economy is grueling but it has its benefits. It's given him power and meaning to his otherwise dreary existence. His mind wanders to Zilv'eari, the lethal Drow who had threatened to end his life numerously. Yet, her body taunts his meditations, images often disrupting his rest and leaving him dripping cold with sweat. Knowing his attraction to her is like a moth's to a flame, he shakes his head in effort to drive her from his mind. "I mustn't lose focus," he smirks, thinking to himself aloud, "After all I aim to show her true strength."

Gold had been the reason for his journey. To hopefully quell The Baleful Maw's insatiable appetite and appease its dreams. In a way, the guild had birthed a life of its own, and it requires nutrition. "Soon, though, it would be over," he thinks, smirking as he hacks the thick brush with a machete, "The rivvil are easy prey and gold lines their pockets."

Shur comes up with his theory after having spent cycles in the Gloura's Wings carefully scheming. Before departing for the surface, Shur expresses to Hyga, Inxun, and the others what he feels is the rivvil's main weakness: their care free attitude. His abbils, denizens of the Under Dark, with more experience brush off the Drow's words and taking them for sheer bravado. At first, anyway, slowly those who stay on the surface begin to adapt and learn from one another.

"The strength of these surface dwellers is not all together weak," he thinks to justify his actions, "It is the rivvil's overly trusting nature that winds up getting them kill."

He cuts the thick brush with a machete,"They don't value their life and risk it in tilted battles, against armed bandits, for mere gold."

"I can't leave myself vulnerable...," he decides, emerging into a clearing it gives him a brief respite as he winces at the the bright sun. Pausing for a moment he closes his eyes to focus his soft Druidic chanting, suddenly the world becomes more alive and senses of hearing and sight improve. He scans the clearing now carefully, making sure he is alone before unbinding the cloth around his head to wipe the sweat from his eyes to relax.

Shaking his his head he leans forward, his hands on his knees as, gritting his teeth as he stands wearily,"I can't be like them; one slip up and it's over."

Hearing the sound of flowing water, Shur passes the clearing quickly as he heads to the nearby brook. He pauses, machete in hand to enjoy the sound of the glistening water lapping calmly against smooth rocks. If not for the spatters of blood, broken arrow shafts, and splinters from battered trees, this area is serene. The Drow sheathes his machete into a small scabbard lying diagonally between his shoulder blades and hoping for good game he equips his Widow Maker. The muggings and murder make him hungry.

Just then Shur spots a large bloodied human warrior, kneeling by the riverbank to drink from its water. The warrior's cumbersome battleaxe lays at his feet as he drinks, the weapon as wide as Shur's shoulders. Ignoring his hunger he stalks the human, "An opportunity and I'd rather stay here if I can anyway," he thinks to himself smiling slyly underneath his mask.

Shur approaches the human's flank and soon notices the blood on the human is not his own. Waiting until he's roughly fifteen feet from the man, he jumps atop a large tree trunk to make his presence heard. The human stops drinking and slowly turns as he gets to his feet. Raising his battle axe and propping it on his shoulder, the man looks up at the elf- aiming at the human's heart he nocks an arrow quickly.

"Oh, what do we have here?" Growls the large human, seemingly not bothered by the bow and arrow.

"It's a robbery, good sir," says the elf in a sing song voice dripping with cynicism and anger, "So don't make the mistake the ones before you have..."

The human starts to laugh, a loud and boisterous booming, "...Are you trying to scare me?" he raises his burly left arm, digging his pinky finger into his ear nonchalantly as he talks, "You can do better than that, wood elf!"

"..." pulling the bowstring and making it tauter, Shur's eyes narrow at the insult and the human's brash demeanor, "Talona wills your death, and so it shall be...!"

His eyes focus on the grinning human's chest as he starts to let go of the taut string between his fingers. At that exact moment, something smashes into Shur's lower back causing shearing pain as his skin flays agonizingly. Magic! Shur's keen ears pick up the sound of several more magic missiles descending upon him; his arrow already veering far off from its target, the Drow turns quickly dissipating the incoming energy with an outstretched hand. Shur is barely able to make out three hooded figures through the smoke.

"Vith," he curses under his breath,"Two faerns and an archer..."

Without a moment's notice, continuing their movements and chants, they unleash a firestorm of spells. Shurs ducks underneath a scorching fireball and barely spots the human raising his battle axe high over Shur's neck, smoke bellows around them as the brute's voices booms the word, "Die!"

With muscles like a boulder, the human male crashes the axe down devastatingly. Shur reacts at the nick of time rolling to his left to dodge the blow. The thunderous strike shatters through the granite in the ground, the debris mixing with the veil of smoke looming over the combatants, as the blood lust clearly marks itself in the human's eyes he readies himself to attack again.

Shur is quick to regain his composure he stands and commences his own counter attack. Raising his left fist, he opens to reveal a few wooden splinters lying in his palm. They begin to vibrate and hum, levitating a few inches in the air. A look of surprise falls on the Human's face at the elf's lowered weapon, and never sees the magic attack. The splinters in Shur's hand emanate an astounding blue light and streak powerfully through the air and into the human's armored chest protector. Shur watches with a smirk as the warriors shrieks, his body careening lifelessly into the river from the forceful blast of the splinter bolts.

Quickly after dispatching the human, he is on the defensive, bracing himself against deadly and magical fire as they rain upon him. His wards sustain the majority of the attack, but an arrow strikes his Achilles's tendon. The arrow head tears through the sensitive meat, causing Shur's eyes to flare with an animal like fury. Without a moment's hesitation he chants in Druidic, pointing his right index finger at the trio. They brace themselves for more splinter bolts, but the resulting spell is more than enough to conclude the fight in one move.

To their surprise, entangling vines sprout from beneath their feet, wrapping their sturdy tendrils around its victims as they panic and yell. Shur leers at his assailants with a cruel smile, enjoying how the physically frail mages struggle against the vines. It is the archer who gets free first by cutting away at the tough vines with a large knife. Slinging his bow over his shoulder, Shur takes out a shield and then his scimitar with a flourish. He clenches the hilt of the blade tightly, his mouth slightly frowning as he examines the cool clean metal. Beginning his silent charge toward his defenseless attackers he thinks, "I won't let them escape!"

The Mages and archer struggle mightily at the sight of the Drow barreling down at them. The archer is able to escape the vine mine but only in time to gurgle his last breath before Shur's scimitar spills his blood, silencing him forever. Giving up against the vines, the terrified Wizards can only stare at the wounded Drow laughing manically over their fallen friend. However, the unadulterated rage the wizards feel can not stifle the ebbing fear gripping them. Shur turns and ambles toward thepair, blood dripping from the tip of his blade.

As he stands over them, and raises his scimitar, the dusk light of the sun taints the blood-drenched steel orange as it descends to snuff out their lives. He quickly gathers their bodies, and then lights them ablaze, before dashing away from the Cloakwood. Beginning to run a fever, the Drow hurries toward the bandit hideout so that he may lick his wounds.