Hunted

[Alvis Alendran]

'kay, I'm putting this up right now. Is a work in progress, and the result of me having time on my hands between calls at work. It's chronicling the flight of a party of four adventurers, having had a bad run in with a Drow.

Warning: Shit gets brutal, and pretty unapologetic. You're warned.

The night was dark, oppressive. And what was more, they knew they needed to get under cover. That last skirmish had been close, all four of them barely able to hold off that one Drow. They'd never faced anythign like him before, and now one of their number was wrapped tightly in bandages, barely able to keep his slashed guts in place. There was a farmhouse ahead of them, and they amde for it like their life depended on it.

"Where is he?" Amelia, the healer of their party asked.
"What, you're complainign about him not being around?" Alaric, the best warrior of their number, and leader of the group asked.
"Yes. I am. What has he been doing all this time?" No one really had an answer to that. Dominic, the wounded thief of their group hissed, the bandages showing a speckling of red as he began to bleed again.
"Damn it. We need to get out of the open. Come on, we can get Dom better care inside." No one thought to argue this point.

The house was lit brightly within, all the lamps burning. The weary party stumbled up the steps, and reached the door. Alaric raised his hand to knock, but froze. His keen eyes picked out several points of glittering light on the back of the door. He gingerly reaced out, leaving his armoured gloves on, and touched one. Cold, hard steel. And what was more, smeared with blood. He touched the door, and it felt...heavy.
"What are you waiting for?" Amelia demanded. Alaric squeezed his eyes closed.
"I think I know where he's been." He replied with a hint of growing despair. Amelia went quiet, adn Alaric opened the door.

The handiwork of the Drow was clear. A girl, no more than fifteen, had been staked to the door, the hilt of several long kinves present. She had been carefully, cruellly, nailed directly tot eh wood, blades through her shoudlers, her forearms, and both of the lower legs. Amelia cried out, seeing this. Dom went paler, is that was possible, while the last of their number, Clara, simply looked away.
"Gods. Why would he do this? What reason is there to do this to them?" Alaric wondered aloud, reaching for the girl.
"Why else? It was on our path." Clara observed darkly. Alaric shook his head, adn his fingers brushed the hilt of a blade. The girl jerked, and cried out, her body ripping the woudns in herself wider as she moved. The whole party started.
"She's still alive?!" Amelia almost shouted.
"Help me get her off of there!" Alaric shouted, moving to the side.

Dom found a place to sit down, taking the strain off his wound. Alaric and Clara were on either side fo the girl, keeping her still, while Amelia spoke to her in soft, soothing tones. She rubbed a measure of salve onto each punture wound before drawing the knife out of the now numbed flesh. The shoudlers were the last, as these bore the majority of the weight.

"Gods, it's right through the bone." She muttered. Taking a deep breath, she managed to work the blade of the first knife out. The girl whimpered, aware of what was happening, but Clara was not entirely sure how much of her mind was even going to be remaining after this ordeal. Alaric took the weight as the blade came out, and Amelia quickly removed the other. They pulled her away from the door.

The trap that had been behind her, pressed to the door by the weight of her back, went off then.

The spring loaded bolt launchers went off, propelling a trio of darts clean through the young girl, the barded heads ripping up her torso, and lodging int he far wall. Alaric started, letting go. Clara hadn't reacted, other than hanging her head. She gently lay the now dead girl on the floor.
"What the hell is this guy?!" Alaric demanded.
"A Drow. And he's a Weapon Master, for one of the upper houses unless I miss my guess." Clara responded. All eyes turned to her.
"How do you know that?" Amelia asked very quietly. Clara held up one of the knives that had been used to pin the girl in place.
"The strike. It's top qualtity, and it looks like it's not the normal manufacture. They don't show any degradation from sunlight. And there's a stamp on the blade. It's a noble house weapon." Clara explained, holding the weapon out. The group stayed quiet.
"How. Do you know that?" Amelia asked. Clara met her gaze without flinching.
"I told you that I've had a...checkered background. I served three tours in the underground with the Delvers. So trust me. I know about the Drow." Clara answered. The group stared at teh woman with surprise. Everyone knew about the Delvers. They were the most celebrated mercenary group to ever handle underground fighting in the lands. They charged a premium for their services, but were well worth the expense. Thinking back to the ambush, Alaric remembered how she'd met the assault, kept the Drow away from Amelia as best she could. Clara might be the best chance they had to get out of this alive. A dark thought came to mind.

"The girl is too young to be here by herself. Where are the other people who lived here?" He asked no one in particular very quiet. No one moved for a long moment. Clara stood up.
"Amelia. Stay with Dom. See what you can do for him now that we're stopped. Alaric. Come with me. We need to sweep the place." She said very calmly, far more so than she had any right to be. Alaric didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that his uthority as the group leader had been surped so easily. Clara was the expert in this situation. She needed to be on point for this. The man moved in her wake, hoping against hope that they didn't find anything.

They did. The room to the west, that had been a dining room, there was a heap of blood and meat that had once been a human being. Thre was a rack nearby, something used by hunters to stretch out a hide to be worked on. The owner of this home had made good use out of it, as was evidenced by the fur blankets strewn around. It was put to new use now.

The hide stretched on the rack now belonged to teh heap of blood on the floor. The hank of hair attached to the scalp still was long and blonde, a woman's hair. The Drow had skinned the woman. And what was more, it was very likely that he'd done it while she was still alive and screaming. There was a chair nearby, the remnants of retraints on it, and small pools of blood under it. Clara touched the chair, adn looked at the corpse.
"He tied her down?" Alaric asked.
"No. This was for someone else. Most Drow would find something like this...restrictive." She said, averting her gaze.
"What aren't you telling me?" She sighed. Alaric was at times too perceptive.
"Someone was tied there. And made to watch what he was doing." Alaric winced, adn looked away.
"How? How can something do this?" He asked aloud. Clara looked around the room, seeing a few other marks on the table, and the tiny pieces of skin there. She shuddered.
"With a lot of enjoyment, from what I can see."
"He's not doing this to get to us? Just...because he likes it?"
"Oh no, he's certainly doing this to mess with us. But he's also doing it because it's fun." They moved on.

They found the man that owned the farm in the cellar. There was a pile in the corner, a pile of limbs. Arms and legs were there, all of them neatly severed by a terribly sharp blade. Clara and Alaric looked around the cellar, trying to track the person that belonged to the limbs.
"Where is he?" Alaric whispered. Clara shook her head. The cellar had a selection of dried goods, and some barrels. Clara took her time. There had been one trap, so it stood to reason that there might be more of them. And that was a danger to be kept foremost in the mind. She noticed that one of the barrels was set off to the side. The floor aroudn it was damp, and there was a length of rope hanging down towards the top. She approached it slowly, Alaric right behind her.

Alaric poked his head over the edge, and looked within. He pulled back with a curse, his face turning green as he fought to avoid throwing up. Clara closed her eyes, and looked within. Sure enough, the owner of the limbs was withint he barrel, submerged beneath the water within. Somehow or another, the Drwo had cauterized the stumps, leaving the man just a trunk with a head.
"Why...is the rope there?" Alaric asked, still fighting to keep his gorge down.
"If I had to guess? I'd say that he set it up, and had the man within hold onto it. With his teeth. To keep him above the liquid. And when he couldn't keep his grip-"
"Gods damn this Drow!" Alaric spat, looking around the cellar. Clara broached the subject that she kenw he didn't want to hear.

 

[darkangel76]

Ooohhh....wickedly and viciously dark! This Drow is rather sadistic now, isn't he? XD Thanks for sharing this...I'm so glad you did. <3 Hope there's more of this.... *hint hint, is relentless and shameless*

 

[Alvis Alendran]

I'd have never guessed you were shameless! :O

There's some more, but I need to get it from the files. And finish it off. SO stay tuned folks. There will be more coming.

 

[darkangel76]

>///////////////<
Well, no shame in telling it like it is and nudging that you should add more to this. XD
MEEP!
Anyway, glad to hear more will be added. HUZZAH!

 

[Esyel]

You got my attention the second I saw the word "Drow" in that story.

Very well written. And don't worry about it being brutal. That's how they are. Besides, it'd be more of a crime to restrain yourself as a writer.

Now if only you can take your own advice, Esyel, and muster up the courage to type/write something one of these days.

^^;;

Anyway, loved this! I hope you keep going! ​

 

[Alvis Alendran]

You ought throw somethin' up Esyel. Promise ya flat out, you write something on here, I'll read it.

And the rest of the tale...

"Alaric, you know we can't stay here. Not even long enough to bury the dead."
"What else would you have us do?" She had expected him to be spitting in fury at the suggestion, but he seemed just...drained.
"Leave. Run. Set the house on fire if you want to do something, give them a pyre. But he's counting on us to stay here. Pinned. Exposed. And he'll make a move on us while we're working. Probably go to finish off Dom, or hit Amelia. We have to keep running." Alaric was quiet.
"Let's see how Dom is doing. I'll make the call then." Clara nodded. It was a better answer than she'd expected.

Dom was sleeping, Amelia sitting in the middle of a circle of salt beside him, faint power glowing around them. Clara was stunned. Amelia had been reluctant to use any magic, even to heal Dom. The strain on her, and the fact she needed to expend the ritual items made it risky.
"He was that bad?" Clara asked quietly. Amelia nodded.

"The circle can keep him with us, but the wound is showing signs of infection. I'm doing all I can, but if I purge the wound..."

"You'll be too worn out to move." Amelia nodded.

"What do you think?" She asked quietly. Amelia closed her eyes, drawing in a few deep breaths, the circle pulsing brighter. When she opened her eyes, Clara didn't like what she saw.

"I think we're all going to die here Clara. And I think you know that." Clara was quiet. "You might make it you know. Leave us and run for it. I wouldn't blame you. Alaric wouldn't either. maybe you can find some of the Delvers, bring help."
"They'd never make it in time. And he might just take me in the open."

"But you could hold him off."

"Maybe. Amelia, he's better than me. He's a weapon master. I might be able to hold him off for a little while, but...I can't beat him." Amelia nodded.

"Then we are all going to die here." Clara was quiet, but nodded. Amelia actually smiled. "Then let's meet our end bravely." Clara felt her own smile coming back. That was something she could do.



Dom was breathing easier now, and Amelia looked a little drawn, a bit pale. She'd poured a lot of herself into getting Dom back on his feet. The wound was mostly closed, but not enough to be safe. he needed more rest, more magic, or both. And everyone knew that they were running out of both. Clara had gone about the house, preparing things. She was agreeing with Amelia. They weren't making it out of here. Not alive. They needed to do everything they could to try and bring the Drow down with them. They were sitting in the main room, waiting. They knew that the Drow was out there, they knew that he'd be waiting for them to either make a break for it, or trying to find a way to fortify the area. Alaric looked like he was asleep, but Clara knew better. He was meditating, keeping himself focused, preparing himself. Clara loved Alaric dearly at this moment, because he'd dismissed the idea of their death. He still believed that they were going to survive.



Clara had moved around the house, setting small noise traps. Not enough to set off much sound, but enough that they might have a chance of noting that something was coming. The Drow was quiet, they'd learned that to their peril. All they could do was to wait, and prepare, and kept themselves steady. Every minute counted now. Every minute gave them a chance to rest a little more, recover just a little more strength. And they would need all they could get. Hours rolled by. Clara let out her breath slowly, and heard a faint tinkling. That was the tiny chimes of glass she'd set up, hanging in the northern room of the house. She gave a low snort, like someone snoring. The other gathered themselves. It was going to be time.



When he came, he came in hard. Not a stupid creature, the Drow knew he'd been made. The door to the room burst apart, his boot sending it flying. Alaric was on his feet, glad that the house had been built with high ceilings, letting him use his weapon of choice well. The halberd in his hands whirled around in an arc, knocking aside the dagger that had been thrown by the Drow, before chopping down in a vicious strike. Unlike nearly every other Drow that Clara had fought, this one was using a long bladed sword, one that took two hands. The gentle, sloping curve of the blade was beautiful, graceful, and looked entirely lethal. That weapon met Alaric's with a thunderous clash, sparks flying from the impact as they collided. The metal of each weapon held, though the edges shone brightly, showing that they were wrapped in layers of protective magic. It was also likely that each weapon would be much more deadly. The Drow was fast, his blade blurring in motion as he bounded away from Alaric, coming after Amelia. The healer stood ready, spear in her hands, and stabbed out at him as he approached. His sword bat the weapon aside almost contemptuously and swept in for a killing stroke.



Clara was there, sparks flying as she parried on the heavily reinforced bracers on her arms, before spreading her arms out, the twinned axes there sweeping out for a kill shot. The Drow was simply not there, moving in a rapid blitz to go after the barely moving Dom. The thief rolled back, wincing as he did, and ended on his knees, aiming a crossbow. He fired at the Drow, the weapon shifting, reloading automatically, and he fired again. The Drow dodged one, and the other hit his chest. No chain mail here, but a hard plate of mithril, and the bolt failed to penetrate. The Drow was smiling now, looking as though he was enjoying this now, his eyes blazing red. He had to check his momentum as Alaric came in with another swing. More sparks, and Clara moved in behind him, looking to check his movement, while Dom peppered him with crossbow fire. The Drow was a whirlwind of motion, blade moving in wide sweeping arcs that both intercepted attacks and made powerful strikes. Alaric was hard pressed to keep himself in striking range of the foe, while Clara seemed adept at avoiding the blows. She managed to land a strike that drew blood, a wound on the elbow of her foe. The Drow spun away, his blade held tightly to his body, warding him from blows. He got enough distance from his attackers that he was able to make a powerful cross-swing that would have taken a person in half. Dom aim carefully, and fired another bolt. This one managed to find the gap in the shoulder of the armour, adn punch deeply. The drow grunted, and took another step back, a hand going to his wound, ripping the bolt free. Blood arced in the air, and the Drow whipped his sword up, running the blade through the falling blood, and then lunging back in.



They moved in, expecting the Drow to hit and move back out, but this time, he simply bulled in. Alaric parried frantically, giving ground furiously, before Clara interposed herself, taking the defence letting Alaric begin an attack. Clara used her smaller size to good advantage, keeping under teh swings from Alaric and springing back up to keep him protected. Her arms were beginning to throb as she continued to block. There were deep score marks on the heavy bracers, testament to the power of his blows. The halberd finally landed a blow, landing on the shoulder of the Drow. Blood flowed, and the Drow staggered. Clara rushed in, axes swinging in a doubled cross blow, ready to fell the Drow. It was more than she had hoped for, this opening. As her foe shifted his stance, she felt a sinking feeling. Her eagerness for the kill had opened her defences, and she'd taken the bait. The Drow leapt back, arms extended, and stopped cold, a stop-thrust. That long blade hammered into the hardened leather on Clara's chest, the wickedly sharp point piercing it like it was paper. Her own momentum betraying her, Clara impaled herself on the blade.

"Clara!" Alaric shouted, leaping forward to try and reach her.



Clara spat blood, dropping her axes as she saw the Drow smile. Her hands went to the blade, gripping it, keeping it in her, trapping it. She smiled back, blood on her teeth .As Alaric moved, seeing what she was doing, giving him the opening, the Drow reacted. He twisted the blade within her, and pushed. The aburpt change of direction unblanced Clara, sending her backwards. An armoured boot kicked her free of the blade, her hands shredding on the sharp edges. Ducking under the halberd swing, teh Drow rose, transfixing Alaric through the abdomen. The warrior cried out as the Drow ripped the blade out to the side, adn turned. Dom was relaoding the crossbow frantically, while Amelia seemed to be in the midst of a spell of some kind. Ignoring the healer, the Drow advanced on Dom.



Amelia opened her eyes. She not used much magic in a long time, and the work on Dom had been taxing. But then, she'd not always been a healer. She'd turned her back on that life a long time ago, but here and now, she needed it. As the Drow moved in on Dom, she stepped forward, he hand extended, adn the room shook with relesed power. Her hadn landed on the head of the Drow, her senses extended, and she dove straight in. She'd tear him apart, shred his mind, and leave him a vegetable. She opened her minds eye, and looked.



What Amelia found was not what she had expected. She had expected the same thing she normally found in the mind of a Drow. Cold steel and ice, a calculating machine, intelligent and balanced, with a merciless bend to it all. Amelia felt herself screaming at what she found. There was no calculating machine, only a maelstrom of blood, a cacaphony of sound and light, pure chaos and fury, blended with the raucous joy of the slaughter. Amelia had no idea what to even do with this kind fo a mind. It didn't work anything like a mind that she knew. Knowledge dawned on her. She couldn't damage his mind. It had been broken and lost for a long time by now.



The Drow staggered as he felt the invasive magic worm into his mind. Eye blazing, he lunged forward, his sword forgotten, laying on the floor, and seized Amelia's face in his hands. His thumbs jabbed in, pushing through her eyes. Her voice rose with a shriek that set Dom's teeth on edge as she was born tot he floor. The Drow kept his grip on her head, and began to slam it ino the floor. Dom had both hadns on the dropped sword, marvelling at how light it was, how easily it moved through the air. He turned to strike the Drow down, just as he heard the sickening crush of a broken skull. He'd been too slow, his still tender wound keeping him from moving quickly. The Drow turned, his hand swinging wide adna brace of long knives flying out to catch Dom in the chest. As the thief hit the wall, the Drow advnced on him, plucking his sword free, and sliding it into the sheathe on his back.
"And now, little man, the fun begns." The voice was light, but somehow thick with menace. Dom knew exactly what kind of death was waiting for him, and reached for the knife in his chest. Pulling it free, he rammed it home into his own eye.



The Drow sighed, looking at the dead all around him. Gone now, adn not a morsel left for his enjoyment. But then, this excursion to the surface world had been nothing if not...stimulating. He'd been gone for too long, he knew that he'd be needed back in the city. With a smile, he set to work, cutting the heart from the newly dead warriors. He ran his tongue along the blade of th knife he'd used, revelling in the taste of the mingled blood. He felt his head swoon slightly, all his senses seeming to ignite at the taste, before his face spread in a grin. For just a few more moments, thigns made sense, adn life was good. he started the walk back to teh tunnels that would lead him home. Perhaps he'd find some other...entertainment while he was on the way.

 

[darkangel76]

Ooohhh..... verrrry nice. Me likes! And the end? Just beautiful. I loved how vivid all of this was. Yes, this put a nice little smile on my face. Thanks for sharing this. <3

 

[Esyel]

Whistles
That was really good, Alvis.

Very well written, especially with the details. ​