The three drow met in the tower, preparing in silence. Their leader, a velg'larn drew up the battle plans for the two sargtlinen. It would be a simple and effective ambush.

One last time Drek checked his crossbow--he'd not have another opportunity to do so until the battle was over. Glancing back to the location where the others lay in wait, he began moving through the forest toward the darthiir settlement. Too many damned trees, he scoffed. They made so much noise when the wind blew that it was impossible to hear anything but the loudest beings. But tolerating all the annoyances in this environment would be worth it in just a handful of minutes.

Soon he knelt behind a shrub, just outside their tavern. Their scouts had been so few and far between, it had been almost enjoyable to deceive them into hurrying after fake signals. He knew he didn't have much time though. Somehow, they would detect him, and their plan couldn't handle too large a force. He peered through the last few trees to see the building. Rising up to his feet he swept his crossbow up and fired a bolt through one of the open windows, eliciting screams from within.

He couldn't have asked Lloth for a better reaction. Two darthiiren and a rivvil scrambled out of the tavern. One darthiiren raised her bow and released an arrow that whistled by his ear. He resisted the urge to sign an obscene guesture. They'd be more likely to follow if they thought he was scared. So instead, Drek stomped away from them, being sure to step on every small bush and leaf pile he saw. He didn't want to take the chance he'd lose them, no matter how unlikely. Surely they thought he was simply clumsy in their lands. They would learn otherwise.

He led them on a wavering path, toward the west. They should've planned their ambush closer, Drek mused. The darthiiren wouldn't be so foolish to chase a lone ilythiir so far into the woods again. But it would work this time.

The approach to the site came into view. One of the crude stone structures of the "crypts" stood on the left. On the right was the head of the river that flowed north of their village. Between these two he ran, assuring the prey still followed him. He needn't have bothered, as another arrow thunked into a nearby tree.

From behind the two darthiiren stepped the ilythiiren. The rivvil, who stood farther behind, called out a warning to his friends moments before a dark blade flickered and a spear shot out. One of the fair ones fell while the other stumbled to the ground, a hand clutched to her shoulder--neither attack was a kill. Sloppy, Drek thought as he reloaded his crossbow and targeted one of the darthiiren before the rivvil could cast healing spells on them.

A giant, reddish cat jumped out in front of him, blocking his aim. He fired anyway, scowling as his crossbow bolt disappeared in the massive animal. The poison on the dart seemed to only infuriate the cat further, and it leapt at Drek. He dodged aside, but not far enough, and he felt claws tear into his ringmail armor and across his shoulder. Then a fireball slammed into his back, throwing him into a small tree. He glanced back at the animal and saw it dealing ably with his two companions, who were staggering from claw wounds and burns. This must be the other darthiir's pet. With a quick hand-signal, the three dispersed, leaving the fire-breathing cat to protect the three surface dwellers.

They would regroup at another location later that night. And this battle was far from a loss. For the darthiiren would return to their kind as a terrible message. And that would do for now.

Drek