Chapter Six - The Futility of War

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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.