View source for Chapter Six - The Futility of War

'''Title: Chapter Six - The Futility of War '''

'''Author: The Amanuensis '''


Silvaria, held captive, 
were moved to the 
very womb of 
Hythloth so that the 
Brethren could collect 
their thoughts and 
contrive a plan to trade 
her for one of the 
sacred Dragon Tomes.  
Niltsiar used his 
every resource, and 
finally opened a 
moongate to the City of 
Ocllo.  The Rules of 
Engagement strictly 
prohibited any 
warfare inside the 
limits of a city, so 
surely they could 
negotiate safely there.


As soon as they 
arrived, a swarm of 
the vile elvish 
warriors and mages 
surrounded them.  
Some of the most foul 
words were 
exchanged, with the 
threats and glares to 
match.  Yet none 
attacked, and none 
backed down.


It was by unfortunate 
happenstance that 
Silvaria had stepped 
down as Jabbress only 
hours ago.  In her 
place, Caleb would 
struggle the Drow 
within, mimicking the 
struggle taking place 
between Silvaria 
and her captors.


Lord Niltsiar finally 
stepped forth and 
demanded one of the 
sacred Dragon Tomes 
in exchange for the 
free release of 
Silvaria.  The Drow 
grew furious and 
impatient: a rather 
dangerous 
combination.  In a 
stroke of unfortunate 
genious, Caleb 
surrendered a tome to 
Lord Sovereign.  The 
tome: The Dragon's 
Spirit.


Niltsiar was 
unfamiliar with the 
writings.  He called 
upon the spirits of the 
dead to aid him in 
identifying the 
scribings.  By the 
time he received an 
answer, the Drow had 
already made up their 
minds on what should 
be done.


"Thee takes me for a 
fool?" Niltsiar 
quipped.


"Xas," Caleb smiled. 


"You asked for a 
Dragon tome.  You 
never said which."
Niltsiar was furious.
"A deal is a deal, 
wael," Caleb continued. 
"Now release her."


Sovereign had already 
turned his mount to 
ride back to the 
prisoner.  He shouted, 
as if to the air, "She 
dies!"


No sooner had the 
words ecaped his lips 
than the Drow went on 
the attack.  The 
Brethren were 
severely 
outnumbered, and the 
Alliance could only 
provide but a few 
weary soldiers.  In 
the few short seconds 
that passed, the battle 
was lost.  As was 
their prisoner.  Her 
escape left the 
Brethren with 
nothing.


In due time, the 
Brethren of Light 
were once again 
together, recuperating 
from their collective 
death.  They cursed 
themselves for 
allowing this to 
happen.  In the midst 
of it all, a ghost 
appeared.  A ghost that 
had not been expected. 
He had followed them 
from the guildhouse, 
through the moongate 
to Hythloth, and into 
the island city of 
Ocllo.  The ghost 
approached the 
darkest he could find: 
Sorn Duskryn.


In a moment, Sorn had 
raised the ghost from 
the dead, revealing 
none other than the 
Outcast.  His head 
remained lowered.  He 
would not -- could not 
-- look anyone in the 
eye.


"I hath been cast off 
by my former 
Brethren.  The life I 
know with them... 
'Tis all gone.  I've 
nowhere to turn."


Sorn smiled wickedly. 
"Xas, Tanth," he 
nodded.  "Come."  And 
with the flick of his 
nimble fingers, 
opened a gate to the 
Dark Tower.  Both 
men stopped for a 
moment, regarding 
each other, and what 
events were about to 
transpire.  Just before 
the moongate closed, 
both men slid away 
into the blue, magical 
sea that stood in the 
street.  And just as 
fast as the Drow had 
slain the Brethren, 
they were gone.


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