The raid was planned. Two teams would strike at two fires on the edge of town closest to the Spire. One drow in each team, to smother the fire’s light and confuse the unsuspecting guards.
Myself, Hershel, and the woodsman, Lazar, were to strike the further camp. Separated from the path of retreat and exposed for longer to the enemy, ours was the greater risk. However, we were also adept at remaining hidden, so it made sense for the risk to be ours.
Exelar and Xeroth took to the posting that lay on the main road coming down from the Rise. That more direct path favored a larger man in heavy armor. And, despite being a more drow than myself, Xeroth is a fahliell, and so is more adept at overt displays of power than going unnoticed.
As we set out to stalk our target, familiar feelings came to me. Here, at night, the skies blocked by plants and smoke, stalking around structures to hit the enemy, I could be back in the har’oloth. Calling on my drow blood, I covered the fire, along with the troops near it, in twisting shadow. With the signal made, we advanced. Lazar was more effective than I suspected and killed the sniper in a shot. Cries echoed from one of the Bowmen as they blindly stumbled into their own fire. Hershel laid low one and engaged another. Seeing an opening, I dodged around his melee and another fell, broken.
We were competent, and the attack ended quickly as it began, with only the burning man still breathing. I could hear clashes in the distance. Exelar must have taken his cue from our attack and begun his own. Turning to leave, I was confronted with the sight of my human companions both standing and staring further into town. What were they doing? The plan was progressing perfectly and it was time to go. If they kept standing like rothe, we would all be dead!
“Hershel, it’s time to go!” Nothing. The hunter had begun to move, but he still stood as if dumbstruck. One more time, then.
“We need to go. Our job is done. If you stay, you do so alone. I will not risk the others!”
Apparently, that was enough. His head snapped toward me and I began our retreat back to the North road. I could hear him following.
Emerging from the treeline onto the road, I could still hear combat from the other team’s position. A shadowy sphere still blotted the firelight. I sent my companions on to the Spire and ran back to the others. As i approached, I could see Exelar being pressed by a bowman opponent. Several bodies were strewn around, and he seemed to be flagging from a few significant wounds.
I could hear a bowman commander shouting orders and the march of heavy-armored feet coming in our direction. Lacking the time for subtlety, I charged with all speed. Leaping over Exelar’s flagging guard, I drove all my weight through my fist and into the face of the bowmen. Bone shattered as he went limp and fell. Handing my mentor a healing draught, we made pace for the Spire.
Regrouping at the Spire, I had a feeling that the bowmen were not going to let things end here. We’d rattled the bat nest and they weren’t going back to sleep soon. I had Hershel scout West as I went East, looking for others like ourselves that would be hunting us down.
In short order, I found a group of a dozen or so lightly-armored bowmen working their way toward the Spire through the trees. i wouldn’t be able to eliminate so many on my own. Again calling on my drow nature, I summoned wisp lights formed as torches to imitate a hunting party and sent them on a path to flank the bowman advance. Hopefully this would provide a delay.
As I emerged, Hershel was there with another group I’d not seen before. A story for later, then. I discussed with the others the oncoming forces and it was decided that we’d not be able to hold the Spire. Balk dropped rubble onto the basement entrance, The fire log trap was lit and kicked onto the road, and anything burnable was set alight on the rubble pile to conceal it and prevent further use. Anything else of use we picked up and carried back to the Rise, where we now prepare for the enemy arrival…