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Our story begins with Laban, a dark elf on the run from his homeland for murdering his sister before she could murder him.
He steals a map from the inner library in the underground city, and heads for the surface, hoping to find a better life among the surface dwellers.

Laban, consulting his stolen map, realizes he still has a little way to go before getting to the surface. He rests for a moment, having been stumbling through the labyrinth for days. His supplies have dwindled to little more than nothing. if he is reading the map correctly, he should be able to break the surface tomorrow. Surely he can last without food for one more day. Hoping against hope to find a water source soon, Laban rises and continues his trek towards the surface world. He ponders again as he walks, his decision to leave his home, his family, and his life. But reflecting on all the needless death and struggle to survive he knows he has made the correct decision. After several hours, he comes upon a small underground stream. Breathing heavily from his exertions, he approaches slowly, intent on refilling his waterskin and restoring some of his life force that he can feel draining away rapidly. But as he approaches, he hears quiet voices. Stopping and stepping into a crevice in the wall to hide himself, he overhears a group of 3 men. Doweirarre obviously, they seem to be searching for a renegade Doweirarre. Upon consideration, he realizes it is himself they speak of.

Laban shakes his head he knows that he has to either act or wait and hope they will pass him by. Thinking that the second choice is slimmer but the best one to take he slips his swords free and placing them behind his body to stop any light reflecting of the blades he pushes into the crevice in the hope that they will pass by.

When they stop right in front of where he is hiding, Laban knows it is but moments before he is discovered

Laban steps quickly out of the crevice and swings his sword around in front of him, he cocks his head to one side looking for the weak link in each of his opponents. He studies them for but a few seconds before feigning one way to see how they react. "Three to one! You should have brought more with you! You will surely die this day if you try to stop me!" He speaks quickly and clearly full of confidence. He waits to see if they are going to attack or if they hesitate he will attack himself. Swinging one sword chest high and the other lower down to make it hard to block both blades.

The tunnels only wide enough to fight one on one, Laban gets lucky as 2 of the elves stand back, while the largest of the 3 attacks, making the odds a bit more even.

Laban grits his teeth and lets his instincts take over both his scimitars flash with deadly precision and efficiency. He attacks the Doweirarre who hit him as the other two had hung back.

Quickly dispatching the elf in his path, Laban turns to the others.

Laban closes with the other two Doweirarreirarre fighters knowing that he has to kill them and make his escape with no trace of his whereabouts. Again he feigns one way before lunging in to attack the fighter on his right.

Laban takes a nasty cut to his shoulder, before bringing the second elf to his knees. calling up his innate skill of darkness, he surrounds them in a globe of blackness impregnable by any light source. Relying on his memory, he thrusts downward with one scimitar, and to the side with the other, to catch the dark elf by surprise.

Unsure how your spell will affect one who is your equal, you continue with your attack on the somewhat helpless drow in front of you. As he parries your strike from above, the one to the side penetrates his armor, causing him to gasp as blood starts pouring down his side. At the same moment of your connect however, the other Doweirarre, enshrouded in darkness, is still able to fight it would seem as you feel a biting pain in your already injured arm. It causes you to drop one of your weapons but gives you the initiative in next round.

Laban presses forward attacking the Doweirarre which is in darkness. Dropping to a crouched position and swinging at knee height to try and take his legs out. Laban reaches out with his empty hand to feel for his dropped weapon.

Reaching for his scimitar, he feels the fighter coming at him, just before he feels the sword connect with his uninjured arm, but fortunately glancing off his armor. The blow however, knocks him off his feet, and into the wall dazing him just a bit.

Laban grunts as he hits the wall. Looking up as the Doweirarre comes at him he pushes hard with his left leg sending himself into a roll to his right as he comes back to his feet he sets himself for the attack.

Rising with an upward thrust, he takes out the last elf with a fatal blow to his groin, slicing him in two. Bleeding profusely from multiple cuts and scrapes, he realizes that his arm is completely numb, and losing blood quickly.

Laban curses softly, he picks up his cloak and tears some strips from it. He ties them around the wounded area trying to form as best a dressing as he can then tearing a long strip he ties it around his neck to make up a sling and eases his arm into it. Quickly then he searches the dead bodies for anything that might be of use. but finding nothing, he drinks once more, and continues his journey for the surface.

Traveling the rest of the day, laban decides to forego rest and continue on as long as he can. The bandage on his arm is a good one, but in many spots the blood has already begun seeping through the wrapping and Laban knows it's only a matter of time before he'll lose consciousness if he doesn't get some help. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he finds the exit to the surface world. The moon is shining high in the sky, and Laban immediately shields his pained eyes from the brightness he has never before experienced. He'd heard stories about this huge ball of light in the sky on the surface world, but his first contact with it was disconcerting to say the least. Shielding his eyes with his cloak, as well as his good arm, he steps onto the surface.

Meanwhile, our friend Edo the human mage has been adventuring on his own, searching for the source of the magical troubles. Having made camp near a small cave he settles down for a leisurely supper and a nice restfull nap.

Edo is sets up camp near a small cave when he is startled by an elf size figure emerging into the moonlight. Streaming white hair, and darkened features remind Edo of long ago legends of the elvin folk who lost favor with the light and vanished from the realms.

The olive skinned man looks up at the approaching elf. He simply sits upon a log pulled close to the fire. Beside him rests a simple staff and a satchel. A bedroll is streached out as well, near the fire.
"Peace friend elf. Share my fire if your intentions are true." says the cowled man known as Edo.

Laban walks slowly into the camp "I mean you no harm friend, may I share your fire and a little water if you have it?" Laban steps close to the fire feeling cold and tired from his exertions. He kneels down beside the fire and looks at Edo.

Laban looks at Edo "I know what you are thinking and I don't blame you at all. My people are a violent race and that is why I have shunned them. I want to lead my life here on the surface world. It is so beautiful!" He almost falls over as he says this and grabs his arm with a severe wince but remains upright.

"I have also heard they speak lies as easily as the truth. Why should I believe your words are any different?" says Edo, his eyes seering into the dark elf's very soul.

Laban nods his head and winces again, "That my friend is for you to decide." He reaches up and slips his clothing off his shoulder and gently peels the dressing from the wound which appears there. He tears a few more strips from his cloak and replaces the dressing as best as he can. He ignores the stare from Edo knowing the man has every right to be suspicious of his motives.

Suddenly, a shadow appears across the moonlight plunging the night into unnatural blackness. A hissing sound brings you both to attention and as the light returns to the sky you see a large spider the size of a horse advancing towards you in the direction Laban recently came from. Venom drips from fangs as long as your forearm, sizzling as it drips onto the ground and causing the vegatation to wither away as if from acid.

Edo grasps his staff and slowly edges to the right of the creature, motioning Laban to the left. "It has to go for one of us. When it does, the other must strike with all their might!"

Laban edges to the side indicated by Edo drawing his sword as he does and as the spider hops? towards Edo, Laban lunges forward slicing with his sword.

Laban lunges, slicing with his scimitar and causing green blood to spatter all over the ground. The spider doesnt appear to be missing any limbs, but is seeping blood in a trail as it continues to lurch (much slower now) in Edos direction, ignoring Laban and the whirring scimitar.

Edo continues to backpedal, leaping backwards whenever the spider gets close enough unless it turns for Laban, then striking.

Laban continues to press the fight to the spider striking hard and fast. "Die you piece of scum spider!"

As Laban moves in, his scimitar hacking and slashing, the spider starts spitting some sort of goo in Edo's direction. As Edo continues to leap backwards, he slips and the spider hops towards him. With a yell Laban pushes his luck and jumps towards the spider unmindful of his own health, burying his scimitar in it's head with all his strength. The spider topples, falling onto Edo, barely missing him with it's razor sharp fangs as it dies thrashing about.

Edo is buried under the spider, labans weapon is buried to the hilt in it's head.

Laban pulls sharply on his sword trying to drag it out. Then climbs off the dead spider and tries to either roll it off of the top of Edo or drag him out from underneath it careful of its fangs.

Mindful of the dripping fangs, Edo levers the dead spider off of him and slips from underneath the beast.
"My thanks for the timely assistance my dear elf. I fear my life is in your debt. Let me see to that wound to begin repaying that debt."

Laban smiles at Edo "I thought you might be done for there but the gods be with us my friend!" He pulls off the dressing and reveals the wound to Edo.

The wound is fairly nasty looking. Although obviously a recent sword cut, infection has already set in causing it to ooze with a greenish pus. Neither of you have ever seen a wound get this bad so quickly. It would normally take at least a week for this degree of infection to occur.

"How did you get this?" asks Edo as he searches his satchel for the proper herb. "I don't like the looks of it I am sorry to say. We need to find you a true healers, and soon."

"It happened in my escape to the surface world, my family has sent others to stop me and I ran into three of them. They will not bother me again, that is for sure!" He looks at the wound and sits down rather sharply taking a deep breath as he goes.

Edo makes a paste from some herbs he possesses, and applies the poultice to Labans arm, before re-wrapping it with clean bandages taken from his satchel. The pain lessoning a bit with the numbing poultice, Laban feels much more comfortable. Sitting around the fire, the 2 men chat a bit about nothing important, as night continues to deepen.

The story continues...
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