A Return to Faerun from Elben Aator

[NathreeDe'Shezbron]

Zazzt stood up, a little unsteady, thank full that he cast the spell to protect him. He smiled, the teeth a little redder than before, if the human did that anymore, the temple would burn, Zazzt decided, but that later, he cast a spell that would search the man's mind and pull out his deepest and darkest fears, and give them a semblance of life. The man would literally die of fright.

[BaravarImrathiln]

The crack of the thunder from the stroke of lightning was hard to miss, and the fact that the temple full of rowdy, drunken murders didn't run out of the temple to see what was going on was just a testament to their collective level of inebriation. Baravar heard the sound easily, knowing that it had likely come to blows between the observer and some of those inside. He was still no match for them all, but if he played his cards right, he might be able to make enough of a ruckus and disable enough of the villagers that this could be dealt with without killing. So, with a muttered curse on his obsidian lips, he spurs his horse back toward the village's main trail, directly opposite the doors of the temple, and about 200 yards away. Well within bowshot, and well within the cleared region. The moonlight behind him made him seem like a black shadow from the side of the temple. He curses once more and digs a helmet from his saddlebags. His armour, enchanted as it was, was more than enough protection for this little episode. It glittered like the best mithril or adamantine plate, but it rippled and moved as if it had been made of soft linen. He settles the helm firmly on his head, then draws a slender wand from among the several on his belt. It was smooth, with silver tracery in the black-laquered wood. It glitters in the moonlight as he raises it skyward, bow and arrow held in the other hand.

He shouts in a strange tongue, his voice ringing clear and cold in the darkness of the night, a voice of command, accustomed to being heard over the hue and cry of battle. As he cries out in the darkness the tip of the wand sparkles into blinding, silvery-white light, shedding sparks from it's tip. The Ranger himself is careful to avert his eyes from the sudden spark, shining like a star in the darkness. A second later the spark shoots upward from the tip of the wand, rising like a rocket into the black sky. It slows as it rises, and as it reaches the peak, it bursts into a halo of white light, surrounding the image of a Silver Dragon, rising in wrath toward the stars. The image is accompanied by a deafening roar that would be sure to draw the villagers out of their temples and houses. Then he would have a moment to assess the situation and act before they fully recovered from the shock. If nothing else, it would isolate the magicians enough to avoid a complete bloodbath.

((OOC: Just to note..that's just a signal flare nothing solid, so it's light and noise, but no potential for any kind of damage)

[NathreeDe'Shezbron]

Zazzt heard the roar of some great beast, and out of the corner of his eye saw a flash of light, and remebered the people in the temple. Sure that the man would die from his spell, Zazzt leapt out the window to investigate. He saw a great dragon over the village, and he also saw some man under it, Zazzt sighed, another person bent on destruction of some place or another... Oh well, he would deal with him accordingly. Maybe he wasn't so bad, a... lost soul, like myself, Zazzt thought. Renewing his armor, Zazzt walked calmly toward the drow, drawing his other sword, but both were held unthreateningly, points toward the ground.

[Adian Novar]

(No halfway measures here, I see...)

Chaos.

Panic.

The sound caught the attention of everyone in the village, the light drew it, and the sight paralyzed it. The revelers burst out of the temple and stared into the image in the sky. Mony simply stared in stunned amazement. There were shouted prayers and curses. As the realization of what they were looking at settled in, panic ignited among them like a fire in dry weeds.

Someone ran for their home, presumably to secure their family. As though it were some kind of signal, the villagers were suddenly screaming and racing everywhere, shouting in drunken panic and unfocused rage. No small number fled the village entirely, scattering into the dark fields and away. Others raced for their homes and shut themselves inside. Someone shouldered Zazzt aside without even looking at him. The shouting of the younf priest of Tyr for order and calm went completely unheard.

Inside the temple, Tanek threw off Zazzt's enchantment with a great exertion of will. When he saw what was happening outside his window, he did not do any of the things one might expect of a leader. Instead he scrambled for his saddlebags and fled out the back door for his horse. No one noticed him.

[BaravarImrathiln]

((Chaos, panic, and disorder...My work here is done...))

Baravar watches in slightly stunned silence as the village erupts into a blind panic. It hadn't quite been his intention, but it would serve, he supposed. Not that he had a great deal of choice in the matter at this point. The image didn't linger long, only a second or three, but it had been enough to throw the entire village into a panic.

He sighs and shakes his head softly, his face completely hidden by the darkness and by the helmet. This was unpleasant indeed, but it seemed unlikely that the panic would injure anyone. He sits tall in the saddle and waits a bit for the panic to die down. When it does, he speaks up, his voice again clear and calm in the night air, authoritative without being threatening.

"My apologies, good people." He was used to playing this part, as it was a thing he did when he was in his own country as well. So he fell easily into the role of authority that he donned.

Baravar holds one hand up in the air, leaving the bow and arrow held in the other. Considering the weapon, this was as effective a gesture of peace as pointing blades toward the ground or crossing his arms over his chest. But it was more universally understood.

"Please, do no panic. I am not here to harm you. I am Lord Commander Baravar Imrathiln, Knight of the Silver Flame and Warden of the Greenwood." Another set of titles, as he had many and none of them were very useful, unless he needed a mantle of authority. "Rumours have come to me that this village is threatened by some dark force nearby." This would serve him well, he thought, and get enough of the villagers on his side that some of them would be willing to tell him what had happened. Baravar knew that seeming to be against them, as if seeking revenge would not serve anyone well, and could only result in more bloodshed.
"Are you in need of aid against this dark foe?"

[NathreeDe'Shezbron]

Zazzt faintly registered the voice of the helmeted man, it sounded elvish, perhaps even drow, but he couldn't be certain "Well, there is a man dieing of fright in the building behind me, if you wish to collect him." He turned to the villagers, "Perhaps you might explain to me why you have attacked the temple, I have seen some of the worshipers there, and I have also seen the mark of Tyr on the walls. The drow who were at the temple, why did you attack them? Have they ever caused you harm." He sheathed his swords.

[silke_rahn]

Nedylene stayed with the Moon Dancer that ran the Shrine and survived the attack on it. However both Delia and Elfie rode toward the village after the rest of the party. The road as fast as two rangers could.

"Delia what are we going to do once we get to the village?"

"Elfie, we are going to prevent a massacre."

"Well then sister let's ride as fast as we can."

"Good when we get there we will show the Rivvin that though we fight savagely at times not all Ssi' Tel' Quessir are evil ravenous killers. Many of us are great champions of the righteous."

[Adian Novar]

Adian rode alongside the rangers, his mouth a set line. Only the goddess knew what havok the warrior-mage might wreak...or how the humans would react to it.

And then they would sort out who had been behind the attack. Three Moon Dancers were dead. Since Tyr were interested in justice, perhaps he too would favor Adian's efforts.

And, if need be, his sword arm.

[center:17he4aht]* * *[/center:17he4aht]

When one is frightened, one tends to gravitate towards the nearest, usually the most impressive, figure of authority. In this case, it was the promenent, armored figure of Baravar. His easy assumption of the mantle of command, his fine armor and weaponry held aloft in peace, and his strong voice drew the frightened people to him rapidly. No one seemed to notice his black skin, hidden as it was by his helm, not did they notice his comparatively short stature hidden as it was by his being mounted.

"The drow have set a dragon on us!" one man cried, his voice taught with the remaining edges of panic.

"Aye, the drow!" a second man shouted, holding his small son protectively.

"We burned out their shrine," a farmer shouted. "Now they mean to burn us out!"

This let loose a cacophony of exclamations, predictions of doom, and the occassional appeal for help.

A young priest of Tyr, unbearded and no more than perhaps eighteen at best, shouldered his way through the frightened farmers.

"Were you not celebrating Tyr's favor moments ago?" he demanded. "Where has your faith gone so quickly?

"As for you, stranger," he said, making an effort to look authoritative himself. "Surely you are a sign of Tyr's favor as well. Though I do not know what Order you hail from, if your arms can lend aid to our village we would be most grateful."

A grizzled, work-scarred farmer was not impressed by the boy's efforts.

"Tanek!" he shouted. "Where is Brother Tanek?"

A short distance away, a stray villager spotted Zazzt. His eyes widened. If ever there was someone who looked the part of a marauding dark elf, Zazzt fit the bill.

"Drow!" he shrieked, pointing at Zazzt.

As one being the villagers turned and looked. There was a startled silence, but it would not last for long.

[NathreeDe'Shezbron]

Zazzt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose "Finally, and her I thought you all were so drunk as to be blind," He muttered underhis breath, aloud he said, "People of this village, tis true, I am indeed a drow, and the dragon was not sent on you, it is an illusion, to those of you familiar with magic. To those who aren't, an illusion is an image, a fake, in and of itself, an illusion cannot harm you, but if you believe in it enough, it can kill you." He smiled, "Now before you all rush forward to what was the phrase you used... ah yes, 'burn me out' I might remind you that I indeed a drow, and I believe that you know well a drow warrior's skill at arms, and a drow wizard's skill with magic. And know that I am both. If you attack, I will defend myself."

He turned to the man inquiring about Brother Tanek, " The priest, and note I use the word loosely, is in the building behind me, possibly dead, maybe not, I know not, and care little, my friends can track him again. But I must ask you again," He turned to the crowd, "Why did you attack the temple of Eilistraee? Have her clerics ever brought you harm?"

[silke_rahn]

Delia and Elfie Rahn both arrive just as Zazzt spoke his words to the villagers and glared at them wondering the same thing. Delia addressed the crowd from the back of her horse with her bow drawn and ready. Elfie just covered the crowd with her own bow and watch for someone to make a mistep and initiate violence toward the Drow and half-Drow present.

"I am Delia Rahn, adopted daughter of Nedylene Rahn. Ah from the reactions of some of you in this crowd the name means something after all. Now what possessed you to follow this particular priest in destroying a sanctuary of Eilistraees, attacking her priestesses and incurring the wrath of the only Drow that would come to your aid if evil were to attack this village?"

Delia looked over each and every face present. She even locked eyes with a few as she scanned their faces. Delia wondered who among the gathered villagers took part in the attack on the shrine. She also noticed some of them were looking at her and Elfie strangely.

"Yes, Elfie and I are half-Humans of Drow heritage."

[Adian Novar]

Adian stared at the villagers, a combination of anger and pity on his face. Many of the faces he saw were the blank stares of ignorant, frightened people. He had been warned that villagers were "simple folk" but he was not prepared for this.

[i:8acmj4yw]Do not hate them for their ignorance,[/i:8acmj4yw] Qilue's voice came back to him. [i:8acmj4yw]For theirs is a hard lot, filled with many who take from them and return nothing but promises and fear.[/i:8acmj4yw]

Attacking a shrine of outnumbered and surprised drow was one thing. Attacking an armed and ready dark elf was quite another, and the villagers had not had the chance to arm themselves at all. No one moved in Zazzt's direction, though there were a few looks directed as some of the rocks laying about.

There was some uncomfortable muttering among the crowd. Finally someone shouted "Kill'em all!"

This was followed immediately by a right hook from the young priest, dropping the billigerent one in a single blow...though considering how drunk the man was it wasn't that much of a feat.

"We do not know this name, 'Eilistraee'," the priest said, stepping forward with his hands open. "But if we can solve this without more violence, I would certainly hear more. I would hear you, if I may."

[Arya Baenre]

She rode with Delia, Elfie, and Adian, bringing up the rear to group as they rode swiftly to the village.

Kaeli kept hidden throughout Delia's short speech, her hand clenched tightly around her sword. When the priest stepped forward and gave his opinion, she grit her teeth, turning her head away. It was clear that she wasn't in the mood for negotiation. She slowly moved her horse a little backwards, pursing her lips shut so that she did not interfere, although she wished to. Images of the broken shrine flashed through her head.

[BaravarImrathiln]

Baravar sighs within his helm at the thankfully stunned population of the village. Zazzt had come very close to ending things badly, but thankfully, between the welcome efforts of the Tyrian Priest and Nedylene's group, it did not seem that things were going to get out of hand after all. He takes a deep breath and very, very visibly puts his arrow back into the quiver at his hip, tucking the bow into the scabbard beside his long, basket-hilted sword. It would help, he thought, to see the present figure of authority to relax his guard.

He remains silent, content to allow the priest to do his work in his own way. It was better thus. They were his flock, not Baravar's, and it would not do for Baravar to do this. The young Priest had a good head on his young shoulders, and nerve enough to stand his ground where it was needed. A good shepherd indeed.

Baravar, though he keeps an eye and an ear on the goings on, rides instead toward the temple, giving it a once-around to satisfy his curiosity about the place, and to ensure that there were no ambushes in hiding.

[Adian Novar]

At the back of the shrine was a single post for tieing horses. No horse was present now, but the fresh tracks attested to the presence of one...minutes ago, perhaps even moments. The horse was weighed down but still managed a running speed, headed out of the village and down the well-travelled road.

To Delia and Elfie the priest was speaking in a slightly strained voice, one not used to confrontation but slowly growing in confidence.

"I am Brother Garath," he said. "An acolyte, and I tend the temple here until the church sends someone of better experience at such things.

"Two years ago we had begun falling on hard times," he began. "Crops were not growing well and rain was sparse. Rats were gorging themselves on our seed stores, and Brother Dren was struck down with illness.

"Suddenly feed began appearing on our doorsteps during the nights. Seed stock was replenished without our guards noticing and the rats began to vanish. The next year we began to hear stories of children who, becoming lost would find themselves guided back to safety by beings unseen. Even Brother Dren's illness subsided to manable levels. No one knew what to make of it. We thought we had earned the goodwill of a druid or forest spirit of some sort.

"Recently Brother Dren passed on, leaving me as the only priest here. A replacement was still months away, but things were looking more optimistic, especially with the help our unseen benefactors were giving us.

"Then Brother Tanek arrived. When he heard our story he told us that he would look into the matter for us. Not long afterward he came to us, pale and angry. He told us that he had discovered that our rescuers were dark elves."

He looked a little uncertain at this, eyeing his audience as though expecting some sort of rebuke. When none came he went on.

"He told us all about them...you. About the Spiderqueen they worshipped and stories about what they had done to other places like ours. He told us that we were being lured into a trap...that our trust was a tool to make us drop our guard and make us vulnerable. That we would awaken one day and find ourselves bent backwards over an altar and our hearts about to be torn from our bodies.

"I confess that I was more than half-won over," Garath said. "Until today. Tanek was a great, persuasive speaker. Over the past few months he worked us up until we were ready to do whatever he told us. He told us where the shrine to the Demonqueen was and...he whipped us into a frenzy. He led us into the woods to attack the shrine.

"That was when doubt seized me," he added. "Sending villagers against a dangerous threat...it did not sit well with me, but I was unable to disuade anyone else."

He looked around at the villagers now. There was an uncomfortable silence, then he want on.

"And then he returned, flush with victory and not a single man lost. As though he had worked a miracle.

"But where is he now?" Garath demanded of his own flock. "Where is he now with his speeches and leadership? These people could destroy us as easily as you did the shrine, and yet they do not. Whose actions speak more loudly here?"

Silence again.

[NathreeDe'Shezbron]

Zazzt sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose, he wasn't a diplomat, not enough patience, he supposed... ah well, he walked back to the building where Brother Tanek lay dead... except there was no corpse. Zazzt smiled, then started to laugh...This human is unusually tough for his race, or perhaps Zazzt had misjudged him, unlikely though that was. Zazzt walked out of the same door that Brother Tanek used, even though he didn't know it. He did, however, spot a few step marks where a human had walked. Zazzt smiled, perhaps he would have to call on one of his friends to assist him... oh well, that can wait until tomorrow, or he could show one of Nedylen's group where to look... yes, that seemed best to him. But nonetheless, he thought, it seemed to be the appropriate time for one of his first aquaintances to make an appearance. Zazzt walked out of the building, and signed to Adian, "[i:3v582z5q]The human escaped, to be honest, I applaude his force of will, but one of you must track him, for I have no skill in that field.[/i:3v582z5q]" Then he silently pulled out a moderate sized mirror, and looked into it. The mirror showed an utter darkness, then a single eye, the rest of the face was covered by a mask, "Ah, my good friend Zazzt," the voice sounded elvish, "Why have you called me?"

Zazzt smiled, "I have adventure, and bounty for you, if you care to travel with a group of drow." The head nodded, and the elf said, "I am already there."

Within moments, out of the shadows, not far to the right of Arya, even though he didn't notice her, stepped an most peculiar elf.
He wore a cloak of gray cloth, and a shining mail of mithril, hidden under a black vest. On his hip the elf had a slender rapier, and on his other hip he had a dagger. His hands were in gloves of some black material. Half of his face was hidden by a peice of cloth. He walked over to Zazzt, and the two started talking in hushed tones.