Drow Problems

-Dalen Capital, Lower Quarter. Night, 2 DSTR-

The elves were fast and the armor they word only added to the difficulty of seeing them in the darkness of the street. The street lamps lit by magic were snuffed, and the shadows seemed to grow darker and more so around them. Magic was being used, he could feel it, like a sense of a storm in the air.

Kline was in a tight spot, close quarters was never his best place to fight, preferring the open field. They had walked into this, he half knew it was coming, he did not have to like it, but it was what it was. His long sword was not made for this close in fighting and it was all he could muster to keep from being cut. His long blade did not have the arch here to make a full swing, forcing him to thrusting and blocking. His strength and size were more hampering then helping, finding he was backing into walls or sidestepping into others.

Herod had taken to moving the wounded with Froggy covering him. Kline was glad his men were watching that, here in the fray he was not able to help the ones that had been shot, and Froggy had little to fear from the poison, his halfblooded nature kept him safe from that, infernal blood burned out toxins from all but the holiest of sources.

The hounds had rushed forward when the handler fell, running to the pit. The howls of the hounds on the hunt were enough to make a man freeze in fear, and for a moment the fighting paused when they did. The door closed behind them and there was a flash as arcane runes activated to seal it.

Kline made use of the pause; he reached out and grabbed at the arm of the dark elf. They were light, and they were fast, but this was also a disadvantage, the bone in the arm snapped as his hand twisted it. They were not made of stern stuff, the bones would break easily, and they were not as hard as a human.

His long sword was dropped and his fist came into play, hitting the drow across the side of the face and sending him back staggering.

The flash of fire illuminated the place and the drow covered their eyes. Kline did not pause or slow down, he grabbed the attacker by the neck and his hands tightened. The Emerald Scarf bandit stabbed a blade into Klines arm, but the beast was out and his grip only grew until there was a wet crushing noise and he started to drown on the blood from the crushed windpipe.

“We got what we need.” The female leader said, jumping back into the shadows, fleeing the fight with a parting dagger thrown at one of her fallen comrades. “Leave no one alive.” The others started to look to kill those who could not part with them, slaying those who fought with them and looking to ensure the group had no one to question.

As quickly as they appeared, they had fled and left the dead on the ground.

Kline staggered back, the rush of combat fleeing him as the poison started to work on him. Froggy came to his side and started to cover his wound in the blood of the half infernal. “What now?” The deep voiced, grey-skinned fighter said to his Captain. He could feel the blood mixing with his own, the poison would affect him slightly, but he could fight through it.

Kline looked around. “Herod and Froggy, get the wounded.” He pointed to Eliza who had been attacked and warranted saving. “You go with them, get them to a healer. Fast!” He spoke as if it was unquestionable who was in charge. “I guess the rest of us are going in there.”

He looked over at the building for keeping the slaves. It was tall and windowless, a place for keeping and perhaps breaking souls. The outter door was wooden, but thick, and he did not know magic.

“Careful, sir.” Froggy said looking at the place, a black shadow in the night. “Innocent blood, and magic, I can smell it, likely the hounds did too. It is like catnip to the infernal, and whatever they killed was holy as well.”

Kline looked around. “Anyone know enough magic to get around that door? I can only assume it was locked or something worse.”