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.