Score and Sightless Nov 2, 2009 20:32:16 GMT -5
Post by Cachot Maître on Nov 2, 2009 20:32:16 GMT -5
THERE IS NO ESCAPE,
FROM THE SLAVE CATCHER'S SONGS.
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"I always have the worst luck."
Another boulder came crashing down into the valley. This one came close to hitting him upside the head and knocking him out, or worse, shattering his skull. Mountain trolls were incredibly powerful, and were infamous for their surprisingly dead-on aim. At least, that was the case with Tundra trolls. All the years of living in the blinding white snow, and thick storms, one has to learn how to aim properly. With a score of trolls surrounding the exits of the valley, and only a few good hiding spots left, the eladrow was running out of time.
He could clearly pick out the figures in the storm, as it was less intense down in the valley. However, with the blinding shade of white reflecting into his sensitive eyes, Nolofwine had no chance for a clear shot at this distance, no matter how skilled with the bow he was. The wind wasn't helping either.
Another boulder came down.
Had he been in the Underdark, he would have been able to slip past the trolls without a problem. His boots and piwafwi would have rendered him as invisible as can be without a spell. Here on the surface though, and in the white of the Tundra, where any ebony skinned elf or black leather-clad ranger stood out like a sore thumb, the eladrow had no chance in sneaking past.
With stealth out of the option, along with ranged combat, he would have to resort to a more direct approach. His swords quickly found their ways out of their sheathes and into his hands, and his hood was pulled down over his face to help with the glare of the snow.
Another boulder came, directly pointed at Nolofwine.
The troll's grin was short-lived as a sword drove through it's throat.
Nolofwine had enough time to look up and spot the boulder, slip through the dimensions that separated the material realm from the fey realm, appear atop the boulder, then slip through the same gateway on the shoulder of the troll. Such a distance of fey teleportation would force even some of the oldest eladrin to drop their jaws at the extensive skill behind the step.
It didn't take long for the trolls to realize that the intruder had escaped the valley through some sort of magical means. It wasn't until the second troll fell with a roar that the others realized that two of their giant kin were slain, and that the drow was quickly gaining on the third.
Two down, eighteen to go.
The third victim roared and slammed it's fists into the ground repeatably, smashing the poor creature into mush. By the time the illusion faded, the troll already had a sword through it's thick skull.
It was almost too easy for the skilled ranger. The rest of the trolls were charging towards him, and with a wave of a hand, he dropped a globe of darkness in front of the stampede. Their momentum prevented them from stopping, forcing them into the globe.
Into the trap.
Like an eight-armed arachnid, Nolofwine worked his swords around expertly. The clashing of blade vs. armor and flesh, and the roaring and grunting as each individual troll collapsed after drawing it's last breath, either by drow blade or a blind troll fist, echoed all throughout the frozen tundra.
When the spell faded, only two remained.
A second later, one fell backwards, slashed across the throat.
Only the eladrow survived, and he let loose a cheer of victory before cleaning his blades on the snow and slipping them into their sheathes.
That bout cost him precious time, for the boat would be leaving within a few hours, and it would take nearly those few hours just to travel to the port town.
Luckily for Nolofwine, he had the speed borne of shadow, drow, and fey.