Dark Rising (IC)

It had been a day, and they were halfway to the surface. Kiana craved the moment they surfaced, the elven castle just days away. She turned to Nauda, who looked nervous, yet excited. She smiled at his question, and pulled a map of blueprints from her pocket.
"When I stole you, I stole this." Kiana said. She folded the map, slipping it back in her pocket. "It's a blueprint of the whole castle, and the castle has many weak points. Some will be hard to get to, but others, not so much. We will scale the walls, and send a team underground, where a tunnel leads into the castle armory. From there, they will move to the keep, then the courtyard, and we will slaughter our enemies from both flanks." She smiled wider, the plan going through her mind, victory was just days away. "Soon, we will have that castle." She leaned in closer to him, so that no one could hear. "And while the Prince moves above ground to admire his new domain, we will take over." She chuckled, slipping one arm around Nauda's shoulder. "Warlord and Prince, mother and son." She said. "It will all work out in the end, in our favor."

It had been several hours since the war party of Dwarves had passed over the Gara'Gor Mokrag and entered the dark, cold corridors that reached out through walls of solid ice and snow-chilled rock. Taking up their torches they had banished the dark, sending it scuttling into the corners of the tunnels that they traversed, and set off bearing south through the long and twisting alleyways of the mountains belly. Dane had never been this far South before, having focussed mainly on the masses of green skins in the North and West of the mountains. He had heard tales of the great cities in the mountain itself and the tunnels that linked them, but seeing these clever and sturdy constructions first hand was something different all together.

"This is amazing," whispered Dane to Bjard and Yarn'd, as though his awe of this place robbed him of his voice.

"Aye, it was," said Yarn'd and Dane could hear a peculiar streak of venom in his voice. He fancied he knew why.

"I am guessing it was far more grand before the Orcs and their ilk invaded, no?" he asked.

"Invaded? They did more than invade, boy. They defiled these great halls! Defiled them I tell you," growled Yarn'd, brandishing his axe at the darkness as though accusing the shadows themselves of desecrating this ancient place.

"Save yer anger for any green skins we may encounter Yarn'd," said Bjard, and Dane could have sworn he could hear the excitement in his old friends words.

"Oh aye, the further we go the more the possibility of encountering green skins becomes. I suggest you're all on yer toes down here," said Yarn'd darkly, taking up an even tighter grip on his axe.

They pressed on, marching hard and fast through corridor after corridor. For a Man or Elf getting lost would probably have been an easy thing, but for a Dwarf, traversing this labyrinth of tunnels couldn't have been easier; they recognized the markings carved into the walls at intersections, they knew the type of corridor they were going down by its build (main roads, side roads, alleyways), and besides all that, they were Dwarves and this was and always would be their domain, even if they didn't have a complete hold over it...yet.

Dane looked in on awe as they marched on; trying to take in everything they went, for there was so much to see. They passed portals that opened up to huge caverns that cradled the noble ruins of old cities; they crossed over underground rivers and gazed upon waterfalls that poured down into even deeper depths. To think that all this was beneath the surface was amazing and mind-boggling at the same time. It was like a whole new world separated by a crust of rock and dirt and Dane was granted an amusing image of two cities rising up from either side of a horizontal strip of land where one was underground and the other was on the surface, but if you turned the image on its head it was the other way round. Dane guessed that was how things were between Humans and Dwarves; everything was just a matter of perspective between two vastly different races.

Many hours later the group reached a long, twisting stairwell that drilled its way up into the tunnels roof. Dane had a feeling that this was their exit and he felt a pang of sorrow at having to leave this place where the Ghosts of his ancestors lingered. Yarn'd seemed to notice and patted Dane on the shoulder.

"We're not out of these tunnels yet boy, you just wait till you see what is up there," he said, jerking his thumb upwards and Dane felt a rush of excitement and longing rise up in his stomach.

The band began the long ascent, clambering up the stairwell towards whatever wonder awaited them above. As they climbed the stairs became wider and more broad and eventually the walls that surrounded them fell away to reveal floor after floor of houses that stretched away into the darkness. Although they were in a state of wreckage Dane fancied he could picture how splendid they must have once looked; like a tower with many floors, except these floors held entire city districts. As much as he would have liked to explore each and every platform they had to press on, ever upwards towards, presumably, the snow-bound surface of the mountains.

The stairwell must have ascended for many hundreds of feet, for Dane estimated that they had been climbing them for roughly an hour before they reached the top, where the stairway narrowed and the floors were once more replaced by enclosing walls of rock. In front of them now was a large door, oak protected with plates of steel; such protection from the outside world seemed in vain to Dane, as the enemy came from below, not from above. Yarn'd leaned his axe against the wall and grabbed the large iron rung that served as a door handle.

"Brace yerselfs!" he cried and heaved hard on the metal, causing the door to creak and groan at being awoken after what must have been decades. Ice that had long since sealed this door shut cracked and crumbled in the face of Dwarven muscle and slowly but surely the door cracked upon, letting in a cold breeze that carried with it a handful of snow. With yet another impressive display of strength the door was wrenched aside and Dane was momentarily blinded by the whiteness of the vast amount of snow. When his sight returned he was sure that a picture had been pulled before his eyes in his moment of blindness for there was no way what stood before him could be real.

The party trudged out onto the snow-crusted ledge that jutted out from the peak of the mountain they had, hours ago, entered. Dane could see for miles around him, the gentle and green lands of the south bathed in the golden-orange glow of the setting sun to the gaping oceans of the West and behind him, to the North and East, he gazed upon more mountain peaks that punched their way through the very clouds. This was not the truly amazing thing, however, for what was before Dane drained such a vista of its awesomeness.

There, laid out just before his feet and stretched away into the mist and clouds of the sky was the largest bridge he had ever seen. It was narrow, wide enough only for two Dwarves to stand side by side on and even Dane wouldn't risk that. With his mouth agape he stumbled towards the edge and looked down under the bridge to see vast pillars holding up the bridge and reaching all the way down to the very floor of the mountains' valleys.

"Welcome to Dago'rath," said Yarn'd, his voice firm and proud before such an amazing construction, "The Bridging of Giants,"

"By the Gods..." muttered Dane, straining to see what mountain this bridge connected to and words escaped even the witty tongue of Bjard.

"We have come a good way in such a short time," stated Yarn'd, making his way back towards the door that led into the mountain peak, "We will rest for a while and then cross Dago'rath. In two more days we will be out of these mountains and another day will see us at the Elven castle,"

With light-heads the Dwarves made their way back into the cold darkness of the mountain and travelled down to the closest floor to clear a space for some rest and a well deserved meal. One day of their journey was over and three more awaited them...

Craig sighed and rubbed his wounded arm, cursing the Orcs under his breath. He'd probably have a scar when it healed, an ever-present reminder of his recklessness. It had happened yesterday, but it still hurt like hell. He hoped it will have healed enough to use by the time they arrived in a few days.

The army crested a large hill, and he surveyed the land before him. After two days of endless plains, they had at last reached Arkenwood forest. The great expanse of trees stretched out before him, dark and foreboding, but it would be a nice change to walk in the shade after so long in the blazing sun.

He turned his mount and addressed his troops, "Soldiers! Yonder lies Arkenwood, and beyond that, our destination! I don't know about you, but I could do with some shade!" The soldiers laughed, and some cheered in agreement.

Craig continued, "But be wary, for the forest is not without danger, and you never know what lies around the next turn in the path. So heed my warning, and keep your wits (and your weapons) about you. We march!" And with that, he nudged his horse into an easy canter, heading towards the looming trees, his troops following behind.

You may never know what lies around the next turn, but you can have a bloody good idea, he thought grimly. He did not expect their trip through Arkenwood to be uneventful.

Lethias sat in a chair in his quarters, considering different possibilities of the situation at hand. He and his forces were assigned to protect the castle, investigate the area, and crush anything that could be deemed a threat.

"An invasion?" he asked himself. This seemed hard to believe, but the High Elf court did suspect an attack on the castle, and there was an enormour increase of Orc band activity and some Drows and Ogres running about. Thats also explained why the Ogre camp his scouts found a little while ago were making catapults.

This was a disturbing thought, one in which Lethias didnt really want to believe, yet somewhare deep witin him he secretly hoped would happen. If there was a large scale invasion, and Lethias headed the fight against it, the High elf nobles couldnt ignore him, and he would be awarded with the recognition he felt he so rightly deserved. It was a scary thought to Lethias that this invasion excited him so, and he quickly banished the thought from his mind, reassuring himself that a large scale invasion wasnt very likely to happen, in fact, there was no actual proof of it either, it was all speculation. In all his years as a general and a soldier there have been minor invasions from various races, but nothing huge. Though no matter how many times he tried to banish this thought, he felt it creeping back up. Lethias justified thought eventually by internaly claiming that if he didnt consider this possibility, he would indeed be a poor general. Each and every possibility had to be accounted and prepaired for. Besides, it was almost a certainty the castle would be attacked with all this hostile activity around it, just not by an invasion force.

Lethias stood from his chair, then began pacing about his quarters, considering different tactics and strategies to employ. The Ogres were clearly a part of the battle, and Lethias had little faith in thier siege equiptment, thinking an Ogre wouldnt be smart enough to construct a catapult with enough efficciency to fire enough rocks accurately enough to destroy a castle wall without breaking, se he figured the catapults would go to other races as the Ogres crushed the castle gate. This was a task much more beffiting someone of thier breed, and a task they could achieve with little effort.

A knocking at the door brought Lethias out of his trance, and surprised, he gazed at the door untill it knocked again. "Sir, I bear for you a message!" a voice cried, muffled through the door. Lethias slowly approached the door, resting his hand lightly upon the knob before turning it and creaking the wooden mass open. Before him stood a scrawny, pubescant, young male Elf, clearly a citizan of the city. "The govoner of the city would like to meet with you, sir... He, uh, wants to talk about the stuff thats been going on recently" the Elf stammered. The young Elf was nervous before the war general, and didnt really know how to handle himsef, adso with one quick, nervous glance to Lethias' eyes, the Elf turned and left.

Lethias closed his door, walking back into his chambers, and went to his closet, to make himselfmore presentable for the meemting.

They were almost to the surface, but unfortunately, the elves needed to rest. They had marched two days down the tunnel, carved for just this reason. The sound of the synchronized steps was soothing to Kiana, and she hesitated to call them to a halt. Tomorrow, they would make it to the surface. It would be late at night on the surface world, but they would continue their march toward the castle till dawn. She didn't want to wait any longer then she had to, knowing her orc and ogre allies on the surface would quickly grow impatient.
A number of orcs would be meeting them at the surface as a sort of escort. Though they could protect themselves, the first hours of dawn was the time the dark elves were most weak. During the day, they could function normally, but it took time to adapt to the strong sun. The orcs would help them with that.
They sat up camp, the tunnel now filled with small bumps the same color as the stones beneath them. No one but a dark elf would recognize the camouflaged tents, all others would walk through them as if they were boulders, and quickly meet their deaths. Kiana's tent was larger then any other, would an extra room for her son. Nauda, though old enough to sleep on his own, would stay under Kiana's watchful eye as she protected him from any danger. She was use to death and war, but she had seen parents in mourning. It was a pitiful sight, and she would not be reduced to that. Nor would she have her honor blemished, for there was nothing worse then dieing at your first battle. You would appear to the rest of the elves as weak and useless, and be branded so forever. Your family would also suffer, and Kiana was not prepared to lose her position as Warlord.
With her tent set up, she sent out scouts. Her soldiers would be sleeping, and like she said, no one would know an army lay in the tunnel. Though it wasn't traveled by many races, orcs and the occasional goblin walked from the caves to the surface and vice versa. Goblin armies were many in the area, and though they could not compare to an elves, they would not hesitate to stomp through a boulder field. Kiana would not have her soldiers startled, or her numbers dwindled because of a goblin attack.
The scouts left her tent, where she sat cross-legged, thinking of the battle. She was surrounded by comfort, huge pillows and comforters of the blackest silk lay before her. She yawned, also tired after the days march. She couldn't sleep yet though, and would have to wait for the scouts to come back with news.

Gurglok

It had been quite a while since a belligerent illness plagued him. It had stricken his body with numerous odious warts and blotches that came to bear close resemblance to his molding food stains. His ignoble body had bereft him of the computing power his comrades needed in the completion of the moat he wanted to have built. Gurglok felt a great reprieve come in for the High Elf castle, and wondered if that might mean anything. Not that he would show it, the same way his chief hadn't shown his worry at the rapid decrease in Gurglok's weight and sense of balance.

"Arr yoo goin' too be ok?" Asked his chief mildly while taking a sweep with his eyes over the catapults. Some of them were finished, if a bit timid and crude because Gurglok's guidance had lacked them, but most remained impressive mounds of garbage. The chief turned his gaze again to Gurglok, and waited patiently for a reply.

Gurglok's breathing was heavy, and most of his voice became too deep to make any sense of it, but it was the chief's patience that allowed him to take time with his speech and make it intelligeble. "I'm fine," he said as usual. His belly ached with... something; Gurglok never knew the source of the pain, and the uniquity of it staggered his aides.

In the course of the day Gurglok laid several plans out for his chief. The catapults would be finished through word-of-mouth, and the moat would be started in a random pattern that, as Gurglok described it, should somehow make a big swooshy circle around the castle so Elves can't rush out. Most ogres simply looked slack-jawed at the logic, but nevertheless started on their work.

What worried his chief, however, were the reports of troops closing in on their location. The forest had become very loud with distant noises of... something yet again. Unlike Gurglok, he focused on the brute strength of their military, and like Gurglok he cared very much for every other ogre, and the thought of allies creeping up behind them did not escape his worries.

Lethias, now wearing an elven dress outfit good enough for the meeting with the govoner, made his way out of his quarters and toward the meeting room.

"Sir" two guards said in unison as they saluted the general and opened the council room doors for him. It was as if both guards were possessed by the same entity the way they timed thier movements. Lethias made his way into the council room, ware he found not only the mayor, but but leader of the city watch, and a few of Lethias' officers. Presented a seat by a leutenant guarding the inside of the room, Lethias sat down. They clearly wanted to talk about something important if they had the inside guards leutenants.

When Lethias sat, there was a moment of silence whare the high elf govoner sat staring at him. "Well?" the govoner stated blankly. "Im assuming your talking about the current war situation no?" Lethias replied. "Yes, what are your plans and improvements so far" the govoner retorted. "preperations so far have been decent enough to prepare for a siege. The mages have been assembling a few magical ploys to befall the enemy should they fall into the traps, though the Ogre encampment in the forest has some of the men worried. How goes the gathering of supplies?"

The govoner looked at some papers he had before him, calculating the storage in his head. "the supplies should hold out for quite a while, we have a lot in reserve." Lethias nodded. "And the water?" "We have a sturdy amount of water in our wells as well" the govoner replied swiftly.

Lethias looked about the room, at all his officers and the govoner with his city watch commander. "I want to raid the Ogre camp, they could be a threat to this castle, not to mention they are making siege weapons, and though I doubt the siege weapons will be any good, if they are modified by any other allies the Ogres might have, they could prove to be deadly. This cant be allowed." Lethias' officers all nodded in agreement, and started debating about how the raid should go about.

The govoner quickly protested, not wanting to lose any soldiers before the battle, but Lethias, being higher ranking in times of war and war preperation, took little note of the protest. "The horses we have in the city will take up extra supplies to feed and store, and on top of that they are not of much use when fighting in the confinement of the city, so I wish to station the cavalry we have and get from reinfocements inside the forest, so on call they can launch raids on the Ogre camp, and any siege camp that might find its way here."

Though for a while the mayor voiced his protest, when Lethias and his officers convinced the city watch commander, the mayor gave in.

"We will launch the raid tomorrow night, and I will lead the soldiers" Lethias told his officers.

It took much more convincing to have the govoner agree to have every horse in the city assigned to military uses, but after a long discussion about it, among other things, he was convinced.

Lethias left the meeting, and ordered his officers to have the soldiers ready for the morrow night.

"Are we theeeeere yet?" groaned Rie, stressing the third word as he walked southwards, jokingly leaning on a short twig for support, as if it was a cane. Another day had come and gone, and he was well on his way to the southmost territory of this region. He didn't see anyone on his way here, and Bifron doubted the existance of any decent shamans in the legions of ogres, despite Rie's protests. Then again, they were busy, and even Rie could respect leaving them to settle down. However, now he had to continue searching more a teacher. And, like note earlier, they have yet to see anyone between then and now.

"Brat, we aren't goin anywhere." reminded Bifron, the mouth on his left and, where it usually was when they were talking casually. "We are simply searching for a shaman, or at least a fighting expert." he said, knowing well enough that a shaman was more physical than spiritual anyways. After all, while a shaman did use spirits to enhance their own abilities, they couldn't use a spirit to defend themselves- They needed attacks of their own. Meanwhile, Bifron was still slightly irritated at Rie's choice to leave the orges be.

Rie didn't respond to Bifron, but noted his answer. Personally, Rie was way behind in terms of training, and he was desperate to get better. Not that he needed to, but having skill just seemed comforting to him. Plus, wandering town to town was fun, at times.

"So boooored" he thought to himself, trudging forward, now long out of the forest. He noticed the occasional small cavern, which were either homes to wild animals or abandoned, and trudged onwards. Dull, dull, dull! he thought, his feet carrying him along the earth below him. Grass wasn't so abundant anymore, and his feet stepped upon solid rock as he walked.

Looking forward, Rie let out a small yelp in surprise, which Bifron quickly suppressed with a tendril of sable fluid. The wood elf rolled to the right, and into a smaller, empty cavern, in which he could hide. Bifron retracted the tendril, and the two looked through Rie's eyes at the source of his surprise- Further ahead was another pack of human enemies- orcs. These orcs were different than the ogres, they were not just armed, but they were tense. Bloodlust radiated from them, and if Rie was to attempt fighting, he would surely lose his element of surprise and be smashed to bits! And for future referenc, Rie didn't want that to happen.

The two silently watched the group, Rie out of boredom, and Bifron out of wonder. Bifron, being experienced in battle, found it odd for and armed group to just wait around, especially when they were so thirsty for blood. They didn't try to escape, knowing that it was luck for them to arrive in the first place... Plus, trying to go from cave to cave would put them in full view of the orcsfor quite some time before they could get to the next cavern to hide... And so, the two remained silent as the orcs muttered, some giving off the occasional roar or grunt. They wouldn't be detected by the weak minded orcs.

They had marched through the oppressive gloom of Arkenwood forest for several hours when it happened. Even Craig had not been expecting it.

They had stopped in a clearing to rest, and eat. The horses neighed softly, chomping on the fresh grass that covered the small clearing, as the men sat, ate, and talked quietly to each other. Craig sat with a group, munching thoughtfully on the salted venison which was part of their rations.

His arm still ached, and he thanked his lucky stars that it wasn't his sword arm, or he'd really feel useless. At least he'd still be able to fight. He heted the idea of the general sitting back in a comfy tent while the soldiers did all the fighting. It seemed cowardly to him.

His musing was interrupted by a commotion on the edge of the clearing. Crashes echoed around the meadow, the sounds of trees splintering and bushes crunching reaching his ears. Craig leapt to his feet, grasping his sword in his hand, and cursing as his other arm twinged with pain.

Some of his men were shouting now, and at first he couldn't make out what they were saying. He watched as the men standing by the edge of the trees on one side drew back into the safety of the ranks.

"What in the blo0dy hell is going on?" Craig muttered under his breath, as he headed towards the disturbance.

Then one of the men standing on the fringe of the group yelled, "Oh, gods! It's a forest troll!" and turned to run. He stopped when he saw his general, glaring at him.

"You want to run, boy? I don't think so. As long as you are a part of my army, you'll be a man, and fight!" he growled, as the crashing noises became louder. Craig turned to the rest of the nearby soldiers, "Form up!" he barked, "Archers! To the front!"

The men hastened into action at the sound of their general's voice, and around a dozen men with longbows lined up before Craig, who nodded his approval. "Archers! Ready your arrows!" They obeyed, nocking the feathered shafts and drawing the bowstrings back.

Craig turned back to the trees, and raised his sword arm, "On my signal!" he roared, as he glared at the edge of the trees. There was a moment of breathless silence...

Then the trees exploded outward, splinters of wood flying through the air, as not one, but three massive forest trolls burst into the clearing. Fully twelve feet tall and around a half-ton of bone and muscle, their brutish, rocklike heads sitting upon a squat, powerful body. Beady black eyes surveyed the soldier filled clearing, and the beasts released an angry, bellowing roar that echoed around the meadow. They smote their chests with thick, powerful fists and growled at the sight of so many weapon-wielding men. Then they charged.

Craig was not cowed by the spectacle of such beasts bearing down on him, but thrust his sword in their direction and yelled, "Archers! Release! Fire at will!" The bowmen obeyed, and the wooden missiles whistled through the air to the sound of bowstrings twanging. They reloaded, and fired again, as more bowmen from the ranks stepped up to join the others.

The trolls bellowed in anger as they pounded toward the army, the arrows plunging into their thick, grey hide. An arrow struck the leading troll in the eye, and it stumbled, howling in rage.

Craig settled into a fighting stance, bracing himself. Then the trolls smashed into the ranks of soldiers, arms flailing, throwing several men screaming into the air. Craig dodged to the left, narrowly avoiding a kick from a massive foot, and swung his sword into the back of passing beast's leg. The blade cut deeply, and the troll stumbled, allowing several other soldiers to go on the offensive, chopping away at the wounded beast.

The troll howled in agonized rage and struck out at the attacking men, bashing anyone not fast enough to avoid the blows. Then the creature's leg gave way, and it collapsed. The men roared with frenzied glee at their victory, but kept chopping away at it, making absolutely sure it wouldn't be getting back up again.



Craig glanced quickly around, and his face lit up with a smile. Only one troll remained, and it looked to be about finished. He nodded with satisfaction as, with a final roar, the beast succumbed to it's injuries, and crumpled to the ground. This was more like it. He felt proud of his men. They were proving themselves to be fine soldiers, just as he'd trained them to be.

Gurglok

Gurglok remained in the makeshift shack called a shelter by some of his lesser buddies, and so the chief was left with some simpe instructions and his own wits. His instructions told him to make a moat, but his wits told him to blather about with some attractive ogre women while he told stories of his heroid acts. Actually, none of that happened- he needed a nap; instructions would wait until later- presumably after dinner.

After his most excellent nap- 12 hours more or less he wagered- the chief went about to make sure that most catapults had neared completion. It was a task he had assigned, with the instructions from Gurglok, some time ago before his nap. The moat now seemed a bit trite, and not worth mentioning until later. Instead, he took a round to inspect his troops. Most seemed to enjoy the sun more than the shade because it backed their grease in a nice glistening brown. Each ogre towered well over the average human, and, as such towering mammoths, had to occupy more space. Their colony stretched a mile or two out before the forest- a place more or less completely barren and raped of its pristine state- in the distance they sometimes heard Mother Nature weep for her lost.

Overall, the chief never had such a massive amount of ogres. Probably just short of a 1000 members- most close combat brutes that should punch through human's puny metal with ease. Dwarf might make things more difficult- slippery buffoons, but the chief didn't expect them anytime soon. Actually, he didn't expect them at all this time around. Only the elves and luscious fresh, raw meat. Some ogres had a little affinity to the strange- throwing large rocks and other things. These members could throw half a tree trunk and demolish almost more than their catapults.

Speaking of which, the chief took a moment to monitor their size, and comprehend their enormous strength. What they lacked in the beauty of woodworks, they made up for with size and brutality- as with just about anything they do. These monstrosities used entire trees, large rocks weren't too plenty in the forest, to throw against the castle walls, and the chief had often wondered about the application and the use of other ogres as ammunition. Not a bad idea, he mustered, and marched on.

Females also made their home in this place, and they enjoyed just as much a position in society as the rest of the males. They, unlike males, are the only things that enjoy even a modicum of magical talent in the bunch. Most of this talent goes into the refinement of cooking- burning a meal without making a fire is often a skill much wanted by the males. However, their craft remains crude and untrained for much of their life. As the chief knows, only one ogre woman has the ability to make fireballs that do not go 'poof' in their hand at a consistent rate. However, he valued them for the club they wield in the other hand when that 'poof' sound comes to ears.

Later in the day the chief went back, checked on Gurglok, and decided it was time for bed. Without the night elves kicking their butts, he thought, they wouldn't lift a finger. Battle-starved as they might be, lazyness takes priority over their other needs besides food. They should be here soon, the chief thought absently, only a little more time maybe...

The chief also wondered why his dialogue seemed so grammatically correct in his mind, but not his mouth. He would improve on his motor skills in the morn.

The scouts came back with no news, which Kiana considered the same as good. She set them to guarding the camp, and slept until she felt refreshed, waking Nauda so they could quickly start their march. The elves packed up, shouldered their packs, and started the march toward the surface again.

Many hours had passed, and Kiana peered from the caves and into the sky. She sighed, enjoying the sight. The stars were so bright, like beautiful pinpricks in the sky blanket. She called for Nauda, who for some reason was not marching at her side. She knew this was going to be more amazing to him then it was to any of her elites, who had visited the surface repeatedly. Even to her the sight remained remarkable.
While waiting for Nauda, she let her body and mind rest and melt together. Feeling like she was one with nature, she exhaled and blinked, this time her vision changing. Everything seemed more clear, seen in a different light. She could hear elves around her breathing deeply as they did the same. They were adapting to the surface, the surface that would become home for many of the dark elves. Kiana braced herself as the wind started to tug at her hair, fanning it out behind her. She shivered, enjoying the cool sensation.
"Nauda!" She said again, growing impatient. There was murmuring within the ranks as the soldiers beckoned for her son to step forward. "Do not be afraid." She said so low that no one but herself could hear. "Everything will be alright."

The smell of the forest filled Lethias' nostrils with a pleasing, relaxing scent as Lethias looked up through the twigs and branches of the forest above him. The cool night sky was clear, calm, and riddles with stars. Not exactly the best ambush weather, but it would have to do. All the horses they had assembled for this raid totaled at 150, and Lethias had some of the soldiers that were not normally riders but had experience and skill at riding on horseback to accommodate for the surplus of horses. A few of the horses bore two Elves on their backs, one cavalier and one ranger.

The plan was to loop around the ogre camp, and approach it from down wind, so the foul beasts would not be able to smell the soldiers approach, and when they got close enough, the 50 rangers on double back would dismount, slowly and cautiously meet up with the group of 20 scouts sent ahead to guide the mounted troop through the trails that made the least possible noise, and set themselves up to launch volleys of burning arrows into the ogre camp. The mounted troops would charge through into some of the ogre encampment in two groups. The first group would move until they reached the catapults, lighting anything ogre made on fire on the way, and would light up as many catapults as humanly possible. The second group would charge through a little bit after the first group, slaying any confused and startled ogres on the way, and lighting anything the first group missed on fire, thus enhancing the enemy confusion and delaying the speed in which they can launch any formidable resistance, or expel the raiders from destroying the ogre made catapults. Both groups of the cavalry would charge in a straight line to the catapults, and the archers would unleash their fiery hell upon the parts of the camp the cavalry wasn't charging through to avoid friendly fire, and spread the confusion and flames throughout as much of the camp as possible. To escape the cavalry would determine the path of least resistance and the most opportune moment. The archers would wait till the cavalry had withdrawn, and the ogres had organized themselves before they disperse into the depths of the forest and make their way back to the castle. Since Lethias himself was leading the cavalry group, he was very confident he would be able to time his attack right, and with the spell the mages cast on the horses to prevent them from talking, Lethias was confident he could get to the camp in relative silence.

The forest smell that Lethias was very much enjoying as his soldiers stealthily made their way through the forest began to change. The smell was shifting into that of rot and death. Lethias' nose cringed at the horrid smell, and he wished he hadn't needed to approach from downwind to make the raid successful, and he could tell his troops felt the same way. They were obviously almost at the Ogre camp, and so far there had been no resistance.

Though the High Elves were no ware near as good as the Wood Elves in terms of stealth in a forest setting, they were experienced soldiers, and this wasn't their first raid, and on top of that,they were still Elven. They moved through the forests very silently, with only the noise of clattering hooves, but with almost all the Ogres asleep, and the distance between them and the camp, there was no way the Ogres could hear.

After some time had elapsed, a scout came into distance. Lifting his right hand in a fist, he silently ordered the halt of the small mounted force. There was nothing but silence. Dismounting, Lethias approached the scout as the scout came to Lethias. The scout leaned in to Lethias' ear and whispered "The Ogre camp is just ahead, let me lead you to the best suited place for the assault. Lethias nodded to the scout, and slowly made his way to his horse, remounting as silently as possible. Emitting a quick hand signal, the troops moved onwards.

The scout led them through the last bit of forest before the ogre camp, and when the proper distance so the horses would still be concealed was reached, the archers dismounted and hid at the forests edge, notching their arrows ad preparing for the cavalry to properly deploy in their two groups.


(THIS POST IS CURRENTLY VOID, IM ONLY KEEPING IT HERE SO THAT I CAN USE IT LATER WHEN THE RAID ACTUALLY HAPPENS)

Craig marched at the head of his army, his arm now out of its sling. He would need his arm in the coming battle, and so he only wore a bandage for support. He breathed deeply, enjoying the cool night air, and sighed. They were nearing the edge of their journey; the edge of the forest drew near.

Normally they would have long since stopped and made camp, but Craig had a feeling that time was growing short. So they had pressed on into the night, trying to reach their destination with great haste. And now they were almost there. Craig loosened his sword in it's sheath, ready to draw it in a moments notice.

After nearly half an hour had passed, the force crested a hill, situated on the edge of the forest. In the distance, lights twinkled, marking the location of the castle. At long last, they had arrived.

He called for one of his scouts, "Ride ahead of us to the castle, and let them know that the aid that they requested has arrived." The rider nodded, and took off in the direction of the castle.

Craig turned to the rest of his army, "We head for the castle! I'm rather keen for a hot meal and some ale!" The men laughed, and they started marching towards the castle, in good spirits.

A messenger managed to catch Lethias as he was walking out of his chambers "Sir!!! The humans, they have arrived!!!" Lethias looked at the pubescent messenger in half disbelief, half glee.

Lethias took off full speed towards the gates, alarming the night watch on his way. When he made it to the gate, he ordered the soldiers on guard to prepare to have the gates opened, and Lethias made his way to the roof of the castle wall above the door, waiting to welcome his guests.

Craig gazed up at the elegant structure with something akin to awe as he drew near it, leading his army. There was what looked like the beginnings of a moat, very crudely done, encircling the castle. Hm...I doubt the elves were the ones who dug that thing... he thought, as he lead his horse across the half-finished ditch. He neared the gates, and pulled lightly on the reins, halting his steed.

Gazing up, he noticed an elf standing on the wall above the gates. Not much of a welcoming party, he thought. He wondered again who (or what) had dug that moat.

Lethias noticed the army of the humans stationed outside the castle, and with swift words let out in elvish tung, he ordered the gates opened immediately. The hardwood doors that protected the castle from outside harm creaked widely open, and the square cross pattern metal inside gate lifted, opening the passage to a tall, wide, half oval tunnel spanning the length of the wall with small holes on patterned on either side for the unleashing of arrows upon unawares invaders.

"Please, feel welcome to come in, I apologize for the lack of pretty display, had you not come so late our greeting would be far more welcoming." With these words spoken Lethias strode at brisk pace down the wall to meet with the human commander. On the other side of the gate were a small group of soldiers waiting to guide the human army to their quarters and accommodate them properly, and Lethias himself would aid the human commander.

When Lethias had descended from the steps connecting the wall to the solid earth beneath him, he quickly ran to the front of the gates, with the small assortment of just over 20 soldiers waiting in formation on either side of the open gates.

As the gates opened wide and the iron portcullis was raised, the elf bade the army to enter. As the troops slowly marched through the castle entrance, Craig stepped forward to clasp forearms with Lethias in the human gesture of greeting, before stepping back and casting an approving look over the elves garb. Obviously an elf who possessed authority in the castle.

"Hail from Jargalan City! My king wishes you peace and prosperity, though I'm not so sure about the peace!" Craig chuckled, executing a formal bow, "I am Craig, the general of this fine army, and we are here in response to your call for aid. I and my men are at your service!"

Lethias listened to the commanders joke and words, and giving a slight chuckle with the human commander, he called back after returning the formal bow "Hail good sire, I too fear the peace will falter. I, Sir Lethias Semrian, General of the Griffalthos army serving the Royal High Elf Court, have been stationed here as commander of the city during war times, and deeply welcome your highly able body of soldiers. Please, come and make yourselves at home within our humble abode!"

With this Lethias walked to the side of the path, out of the way of the incoming army. Lethias was immensely relieved that reenforcements had arrived. They could even help with the raid scheduled for the latter night, should their commander agree to aiding him and his forces. Lethias was also highly eager to make these men feel welcome, as high moral was part of the key to success in battle.

OOC: Terribly sorry for the absence ya guys, OOC thread explains a bit

IC: They had reached the surface, and during their march Nauda had fell behind his Mother. But now she beckoned him forward, to take a look at the lands of conquest. Nauda came forward, and stood next to his Mother. "Look..." She said simply, pointing up. Nauda looked, and instead of seeing a cave ceiling, or just un-ending darkness, he saw something different. Nauda was literally amazed, his mouth opening a bit in awe. The darkest of blues was the color of the sky, and it had millions of tiny little lights in it. It almost looked as if someone had taken a crystal glass, smashed it into many pieces, then those many pieces into many pieces, and spread them across a beautifully crafted tapestry.

After another moment of admiring what would soon be his, Nauda walked up to his Mother and said, "Mother, these surface lands are amazing to me already. I swear, I will win these lands for us or die trying!" Nauda was getting really worked up now, blood-lust taking over slightly as he drew his blade. "Come, let us march and take this fight to our enemies!" Nauda said to the band of elites, and the rest of the army that could hear him. A light cheer and roar emanated from the army. Nauda took a step closer to them and said louder, "I can't hear you my brothers and sisters! I said, let us take this fight to our enemies, and claim what is rightfully ours!" This time, the sea of Dark Elves roared and cheered, banging their weapons on shields, and screaming out battle cries. Nauda then turned toward his Mother and walked up to her. He sheathed his blade, leaned in close to her and said, "Give me blood to spill, Mother."

Kiana smiled at her son, and roared along with her soldiers. They had done enough sight-seeing for now.
"Let us march!" She called out, knowing there were still many hours of darkness ahead. The beautiful and deadly army took their first steps on the surface toward the castle. They marched with purpose, and determination.