Thread: Hunted

'kay, I'm putting this up right now. Is a work in progress, and the result of me having time on my hands between calls at work. It's chronicling the flight of a party of four adventurers, having had a bad run in with a Drow. Warning Shit gets brutal, and pretty unapologetic. You're warned. The night was dark, oppressive. And what was more, they knew they needed to get under cover. That last skirmish had been close, all four of them barely able to hold off that one Drow. They'd never faced anythign like him before, and now one of their number was wrapped tightly in bandages, barely able to keep his slashed guts in place. There was a farmhouse ahead of them, and they amde for it like their life depended on it. Where is he? Amelia, the healer of their party asked. What, you're complainign about him not being around? Alaric, the best warrior of their number, and leader of the group asked. Yes. I am. What has he been doing all this time? No one really had an answer to that. Dominic, the wounded thief of their group hissed, the bandages showing a speckling of red as he began to bleed again. Damn it. We need to get out of the open. Come on, we can get Dom better care inside. No one thought to argue this point. The house was lit brightly within, all the lamps burning. The weary party stumbled up the steps, and reached the door. Alaric raised his hand to knock, but froze. His keen eyes picked out several points of glittering light on the back of the door. He gingerly reaced out, leaving his armoured gloves on, and touched one. Cold, hard steel. And what was more, smeared with blood. He touched the door, and it felt...heavy. What are you waiting for? Amelia demanded. Alaric squeezed his eyes closed. I think I know where he's been. He replied with a hint of growing despair. Amelia went quiet, adn Alaric opened the door. The handiwork of the Drow was clear. A girl, no more than fifteen, had been staked to the door, the hilt of several long kinves present. She had been carefully, cruellly, nailed directly tot eh wood, blades through her shoudlers, her forearms, and both of the lower legs. Amelia cried out, seeing this. Dom went paler, is that was possible, while the last of their number, Clara, simply looked away. Gods. Why would he do this? What reason is there to do this to them? Alaric wondered aloud, reaching for the girl. Why else? It was on our path. Clara observed darkly. Alaric shook his head, adn his fingers brushed the hilt of a blade. The girl jerked, and cried out, her body ripping the woudns in herself wider as she moved. The whole party started. She's still alive?! Amelia almost shouted. Help me get her off of there! Alaric shouted, moving to the side. Dom found a place to sit down, taking the strain off his wound. Alaric and Clara were on either side fo the girl, keeping her still, while Amelia spoke to her in soft, soothing tones. She rubbed a measure of salve onto each punture wound before drawing the knife out of the now numbed flesh. The shoudlers were the last, as these bore the majority of the weight. Gods, it's right through the bone. She muttered. Taking a deep breath, she managed to work the blade of the first knife out. The girl whimpered, aware of what was happening, but Clara was not entirely sure how much of her mind was even going to be remaining after this ordeal. Alaric took the weight as the blade came out, and Amelia quickly removed the other. They pulled her away from the door. The trap that had been behind her, pressed to the door by the weight of her back, went off then. The spring loaded bolt launchers went off, propelling a trio of darts clean through the young girl, the barded heads ripping up her torso, and lodging int he far wall. Alaric started, letting go. Clara hadn't reacted, other than hanging her head. She gently lay the now dead girl on the floor. What the hell is this guy?! Alaric demanded. A Drow. And he's a Weapon Master, for one of the upper houses unless I miss my guess. Clara responded. All eyes turned to her. How do you know that? Amelia asked very quietly. Clara held up one of the knives that had been used to pin the girl in place. The strike. It's top qualtity, and it looks like it's not the normal manufacture. They don't show any degradation from sunlight. And there's a stamp on the blade. It's a noble house weapon. Clara explained, holding the weapon out. The group stayed quiet. How. Do you know that? Amelia asked. Clara met her gaze without flinching. I told you that I've had a...checkered background. I served three tours in the underground with the Delvers. So trust me. I know about the Drow. Clara answered. The group stared at teh woman with surprise. Everyone knew about the Delvers. They were the most celebrated mercenary group to ever handle underground fighting in the lands. They charged a premium for their services, but were well worth the expense. Thinking back to the ambush, Alaric remembered how she'd met the assault, kept the Drow away from Amelia as best she could. Clara might be the best chance they had to get out of this alive. A dark thought came to mind. The girl is too young to be here by herself. Where are the other people who lived here? He asked no one in particular very quiet. No one moved for a long moment. Clara stood up. Amelia. Stay with Dom. See what you can do for him now that we're stopped. Alaric. Come with me. We need to sweep the place. She said very calmly, far more so than she had any right to be. Alaric didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that his uthority as the group leader had been surped so easily. Clara was the expert in this situation. She needed to be on point for this. The man moved in her wake, hoping against hope that they didn't find anything. They did. The room to the west, that had been a dining room, there was a heap of blood and meat that had once been a human being. Thre was a rack nearby, something used by hunters to stretch out a hide to be worked on. The owner of this home had made good use out of it, as was evidenced by the fur blankets strewn around. It was put to new use now. The hide stretched on the rack now belonged to teh heap of blood on the floor. The hank of hair attached to the scalp still was long and blonde, a woman's hair. The Drow had skinned the woman. And what was more, it was very likely that he'd done it while she was still alive and screaming. There was a chair nearby, the remnants of retraints on it, and small pools of blood under it. Clara touched the chair, adn looked at the corpse. He tied her down? Alaric asked. No. This was for someone else. Most Drow would find something like this...restrictive. She said, averting her gaze. What aren't you telling me? She sighed. Alaric was at times too perceptive. Someone was tied there. And made to watch what he was doing. Alaric winced, adn looked away. How? How can something do this? He asked aloud. Clara looked around the room, seeing a few other marks on the table, and the tiny pieces of skin there. She shuddered. With a lot of enjoyment, from what I can see. He's not doing this to get to us? Just...because he likes it? Oh no, he's certainly doing this to mess with us. But he's also doing it because it's fun. They moved on. They found the man that owned the farm in the cellar. There was a pile in the corner, a pile of limbs. Arms and legs were there, all of them neatly severed by a terribly sharp blade. Clara and Alaric looked around the cellar, trying to track the person that belonged to the limbs. Where is he? Alaric whispered. Clara shook her head. The cellar had a selection of dried goods, and some barrels. Clara took her time. There had been one trap, so it stood to reason that there might be more of them. And that was a danger to be kept foremost in the mind. She noticed that one of the barrels was set off to the side. The floor aroudn it was damp, and there was a length of rope hanging down towards the top. She approached it slowly, Alaric right behind her. Alaric poked his head over the edge, and looked within. He pulled back with a curse, his face turning green as he fought to avoid throwing up. Clara closed her eyes, and looked within. Sure enough, the owner of the limbs was withint he barrel, submerged beneath the water within. Somehow or another, the Drwo had cauterized the stumps, leaving the man just a trunk with a head. Why...is the rope there? Alaric asked, still fighting to keep his gorge down. If I had to guess? I'd say that he set it up, and had the man within hold onto it. With his teeth. To keep him above the liquid. And when he couldn't keep his grip- Gods damn this Drow! Alaric spat, looking around the cellar. Clara broached the subject that she kenw he didn't want to hear.