Forum

[the Jester]

She had trained since the age of 29- which is very young- in the arts of a proper Drow lady: swordsmanship, sorcery, dancing and poisons. She was only a fair spellcaster- no greater than any of her kind- and her mastery of poisons was not as great as it should have been, but she was one of the best dancers in her entire House. Her swordsmanship, too, was remarkable; Thizul “Riposte” Briz’Kellar herself had commented on Thalanaz’ skill with a blade.

Oh, but she was good.

In seconds Vosh was bleeding from two wounds, and even with their bard singing the pirates couldn’t seem to land a blow.

Delilah’s spells slid off the female dark elf like water off a wall of force, and she whirled away and dodged Vosh’s hooves and Urdor’s axe with ease.

Then it was another prick, this time on Urdor. He snarled and swung, but she swayed away from the blow. “She’s too quick!” yelled the Bleakist.

Delilah cursed silently as another spell fizzled off the deadly Drow. “Well played, Illspree!” she called, and the wild mage smiled wickedly.

Meanwhile, Thalanaz stabbed Urdor in the leg, Vosh in the side and Akakathan in the arm. Vosh managed to heal some of the worst of it, and he tried to interpose himself between the vicious blade of the dark elf and Delilah, but it stabbed her as well. Thalanaz danced away from all their countermeasures, all their spells and blows. They hadn’t even wounded her.

“Tsk,” Arvandor Illspree shook his head. “It appears you are not as worthy as I had thought.”

Delilah glanced angrily in his direction, but it’s a terrible mistake. She screamed as sudden pain ripped through her chest and out her back, and she fell, twitching and moaning, to bleed unconscious. Vosh swung his scimitar and finally dealt a scratch to the vicious elf, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough.

She’s going to kill us, he realized with dismay. He bit his lip. We can’t lay a finger on her, and she’s tearing us up- she’s too quick! How can we equalize the odds? Our spells can’t hurt her...

An idea pricked him even as she stabbed him in the flank. “Aargh!” Vosh cried in pain. “All right, that’s it!” He cast a spell, not at his enemy, but at the ground beneath her. And with his remarkable skills as a sculptor*, he quickly managed to grab her feet in shoes of stone before she realized what he was doing.

“This won’t help you,” the Drow sneered.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Vosh responded tartly. “I don’t think you’ll be quite as tricky when you can’t move.”

And he was right. Suddenly, even though she could still dodge and move her body a certain amount, she was no longer nearly as difficult to strike. In a few short moments the party had defeated her, and Arvandor Illspree looked much less smug.

“Impressive,” the wild mage admitted. “Very well; take the amulet. Perhaps you shall do something worthy of mention with it.” He tossed a disc tied to a leather cord to the group. “Now begone.”

“Gladly,” quipped Akakathan, and the group left triumphant.

Next Time: We’ll be looking in on some crazy crazy stuff, folks- the remnants of Farenth’s journals from this period, which were found a century later in the ruins of the Halls of Light after the Tarrasques were put down! Since they’re an integral part of this period’s goings-on, we’ll take a look...


*Vosh had several proficiency slots in Craft (sculpting) or whatever it was in 2e.