The Deep Realms

[WhiteLily]

Rosalie saw the new human get hit, but recover. She called to him as she rushed the third troll, "Aim for the eyes!"

 

[Big Al545]

((If this doesn't suit anybody's likings, I'll change it.))

Gabriel surveyed the battle below, deciding what the best offensive strategy would be. Even with the newcomer, they were at a serious disadvantage. He drew his sword and stood up on the thick branch. He waited for the medium sized troll to come directly underneath. With a shout, Gabriel dove off the branch, spiraling downwards towards the troll.
"You will live no longer, foul beast," shouted Gabriel.
He plunged his longsword directly into the trolls throat. Luckily, the troll had turned it's head upwards, exposing it's soft neck. Gabriel plunged his sword in deeper, and with a twist, drew it out of the troll. He forced his sword into the trolls chest, and once again drew it out. He jumped of the troll as it fell backwards, smashing onto the tree wall, and slowly sliding down.
"It seems there is only one troll left," said Gabriel. He turned his head towards the remaining troll, who seemed to enter a fit of rage as it realized it's companions were slain.

 

[Shadowseldil]

(((Make it the middle sized troll, and we've got a deal. It makes more sense logistically, and besides, I don't want this too be too easy, now.)))

As Arius engaged the troll, Naaman took the occasion to step away and try to get to Gabriel. He seemed to have his hands full as he leaped onto the other troll's shoulders and began thrusting into the neck. Rosalie was ready to provide backup, but it seemed that Gabriel would not need it. Thrust after thrust found its way through the skin of the troll's vulnerable neck while the troll seemed helpless to retaliate. It fell to its knees, and with a last breath, toppled backward, possibly hoping to crush its assailant with its corpse. Either way, Gabriel was able to leap off before the massive creature pinioned him beneath it.
Naaman grabbed Gabriel's arm, both steadying him and casting his protective spell on him.
"It seems there is only one troll left," he said, indicating the last troll with his sword. Naaman looked over just in time to see Arius flung aside. He was quick to recover, but so was the troll. It had wretched its club free and gave a foul bellow of rage. Naaman ran for Arius to see if he had been injured, but the troll caught his movement and swung its club in a half-circle. Naaman attempted to vault the club, but it caught his heels and flipped him to the ground. He landed hard on his back, stunning him for a second. The troll brought the club around in a circle and, gripping it with both hands, prepared to bring it down on Naaman.
Perhaps Naaman could have dodged it, but he was never given the chance. A loud cry came from the direction the trolls had come: "Aiyeeya!" A black streak darted through the clearing, stopping only briefly enough to grab Naaman by the waist and haul him out of the path of the deathblow. Naaman rolled as the two of them stopped and he was released.
He could see a little of rescuer. At first he thought that he was dressed all in black, but he quickly saw that the man was not dressed in black, but that he was black. His chest and back were bare, and his flesh was as black as night. That was, with one notable exception: coursing along his skin in intricate designs were orange and crimson tattoos. Most of them were dark crimson, almost like blood, and, for a moment, Naaman though that he was bleeding. But then the orange ones, they were bright, bright like fire, and Naaman would swear they were actually glowing, if such a thing were possible.
As for his head, it was bald, but he sported a bright red-orange circle beard. More tattoos ran the course along his head, again some of which were the muted crimson and others brilliant orange. His ears were pointed, like an elf's.
Naaman took all this in in a second, and he had little time for much else, for the troll was ready to strike again.
The man spoke, a deep, almost growling voice, "Stay back, fairies," the stranger shouted, "This prey is mine!"
He took a combat stance, but Naaman noticed he bore no weapon. Surely he did not intent to battle the troll with his bare hands. Did he?

 

[armyman_83]

Arius readied himself for a fresh attack. One of the trolls had been slain and Arius waited for an opportunity to attack the large beast’s eyes. The cloaked man made an advance at the troll but fell. Then was suddenly the cloaked man was, seemingly, thrown aside by some strange thing. A black creature with strange markings it seemed to Arius. Arius, partly confused just stood ready for to attack if need.

 

[WhiteLily]

Rosalie landed in front of Naaman, just behind the black man, her eyes watched him with a hard glint within. "I don't know you."

 

[Shadowseldil]

The man did not bother to look at her, keeping his eyes rather on the troll. "No," he said coldly and fiercely, "You do not."
Naaman had recovered fully now, and could see that the troll was ready for another swat at them. He was going to make a wide circle around the troll to get to Arius when the black man pushed them both back as he jumped back himself.
It was a good thing he did, too. The troll made a clumsy, but effective, flèche, or a sort of sweeping lunge, which passed quite close to them all in their retreated position. It would have killed them if they had not been dragged back as they were. However, the troll, because of clumsiness, toppled over himself with the move. He lay on the ground, but was slowly recovering.
"Get out of the way and stay there," the stranger ordered. He moved forward in the what was now a clearing and faced the troll. Naaman grabbed at Rosalie's shoulder, saying "This way, come on." They were in the undergrowth now, and it would be easy enough to move without being seen.
Naaman hoped Rosalie would follow him instead of joining the new guy. It was clear he knew how trolls fought, although his method of fighting them was puzzling. Eventually he got around to Arius. "Hey, new guy," he said from his concealed position, "You alright? You took a pretty nasty knock."
Naaman saw, over Arius's shoulder, the troll try to smash the black man. The attack missed, but surprisingly, the black man had grabbed ahold of the mighty club, and seemed to be trying to wrest it from the troll's grip. What was even more shocking was that he seemed to be having some success, as the troll was straining to keep control of it.

 

[WhiteLily]

Rosalie followed Naaman, but kept her eyes on the black man. Rosalie knew the Realm like she knew herself, from the salty waters to the fire fields to the grass plains. But most of all she knew this forest and the trees would have certainly alerted her to a stranger among them. The black man also knew how to fight, and fight well. Rosalie was mildly impressed by the way he dodged the trolls advances. But still, he didn't seem right. Not even the fae of the fire were this black skinned, this man was the color of the Dark Realms. With a shake of her head, Rosalie banished those dark, forbidden thoughts and focused on the others. "Is everyone okay?"

 

[armyman_83]

Arius was taken aback by the strange creature that came to an apparent aid. But the close blow from the troll was enough to bring Arius back to his senses.

Naaman spoke to Arius from the bushes, and Arius turned slightly to reply, still trying to keep his view upon the troll.

"Aye," said Arius "I shall live." Arius grunted as he moved slowly back toward the undergrowth. He figured the new black creature could handle himself and meant no harm. Before moving to the cloaked man and the fairy's position he grabbed his bag of trinkets he had dropped along with the small goat skin of waterd down wine.

"I am better now that there are some friendly faces around." Arius grinned when he joined the fairy and the cloaked man.

 

[Shadowseldil]

Naaman nodded, still keeping watch on the black man's actions. There was something odd about him. "That is good," he said quietly.
Suddenly, it seemed that the troll grew frustrated at the tug-of-war, and yanked his club up into the air. But then, the black man was gone. It was the full training of Naaman's eyes that spotted him rising with the club. He was thrown powerfully into the air with the maneuver, but from what Naaman could tell, it was completely controlled. The black man flew up, hard to spot against the pale walls of the underground, but at his apex, he did a skillful flip and began falling straight for the troll's head. He gave a mighty warcry once again, clenched his hands together, and made as if he would hammer the beast. The troll, who was looking around for his foe, looked up just in time to receive a blow straight in the forehead.
Naaman had half expected the troll to simply shrug it off. But it did not. It collapse to one knee as if it had been hit with a mighty blow. The man was far from finished, for he landed expertly next to the troll and gave a solid punch into the troll's calf. Agian, surprisingly, the troll bellowed and gripped at its leg. It also gave a poorly aimed swat at the black man, who had already leaped out of range.
Naaman was thoroughly shocked at this man's combat. Unless he knew more about trolls than Rosalie, he must otherwise possess a strength far greater than his body should allow. Magic, perhaps? Naaman thought, It is not unheard of, but it would be a rare thing to have a spell so steadily maintained without a caster.
The black being stood in a ready stance, fists before him. The troll was still kneeling, but rising slowly. It was obvious that its leg was wounded badly; it was nearly crippled by the blow. It could no longer put adequate weight on it, which meant fleeing was no longer an option. It also meant, Naaman soon realized, that it could no longer make full use of its strength to swing the club around, unable to shift his weight with the swings. It still seemed unsteady from the blow to the head, but it was recovering rapidly from that.
Once it was on its feet once more, the black one began the offensive. With fine speed, he darted in toward the troll, easily avoiding a flick of the club and swats from the arm. Once his was past the troll's range, he delivered nonstop volleys of punches, stopping only to dodge a swat from the troll.
It was a thing to watch, almost like seeing a wasp attacking a bear in slow motion. A flurry of punches to the side, dodge a swat from the troll's arm, and next he would be sidling the troll's knee, landing punches to the troll's arms. Sting and swat, sting and swat, the brawler weaved his way around the troll, delivering a barrage of blows at every stop.
It soon became clear that the troll could not take the abuse forever. It was enraged, flustered, and seemingly unable to stop the fighter from doing whatever he please no matter how hard he tried. It was a sloppy swat that ended the fight. The black man caught the troll's arm, and with unbelievable control (Naaman himself felt that it was somehow impossible to have seen what he saw), the black one threw the troll clean over his shoulder. The troll landed hard on his head, and lay motionless on his chest where he landed.
The black one looked about to ensure that there were no other trolls in ambush, and lowered his guard. Naaman could see he was breathing hard, but not so hard as he felt he should be. He walked slowly but purposely toward the troll. Naaman stepped out as the man climbed up the troll's back and positioned himself astride the troll's shoulders. "Hey," Naaman cried, "Are you okay? Are you injured?"
The black man afforded Naaman a glance, turned his head away, and said simply, albeit gruffly, "I am well."
Then it happened, and Naaman's jaw dropped. He saw several of the curious tattooed markings on the man change. Some of the bright ones faded away, while other dull ones shone into life, as it were. As they did, fire jumped into and around the black man's hands.
He held his flaming hand near his face, palm flat. As he focused on it, the flames became concentrated, straight, more intense. They changed from orange-red of normal flames to a cold, searing blue, the sort one would see on cutting torches. Once the flame reached this potent edge, he turned his hand and its flame to the troll's neck. It cut through it easily, although slowly.
"I am taking the head as my trophy," the stranger stated as he worked his way through the neck. It gave off a rather foul odor, though not as strong as one might imagine. The fire must be too hot to give off stronger smells, Naaman surmised. The man continued speaking, "You will wait until I am done. I will say something to you all."

 

[WhiteLily]

Watching in digust as the black man cut off the troll's head, Rosalie huffed a breath. "Who are you to demand us to stay? You are the stranger in my woods, in my thronedom, not the other way around."

 

[Big Al545]

Gabriel turned his head towards Rosalie and nodded his head in agreement, then turned to the black man.
"You have no right to give us orders, what ever you might say cannot be as important as our current task," said Gabriel, "We will leave if we want, or we will stay if we choose."
Gabriel walked away and began gathering his weapons that he had lost during combat. He picked up his flintlock and placed it back into his hip holster, and placed his leather body over his chain mail, then he strung his claymore around his back and went back to his group.
"So, do we stay, or do we leave," questioned Gabriel.

 

[WhiteLily]

"We should find the others. We don't know if they made it to the place. It is a small cave opening about as tall as my shoulder. They could not have entered, you need an invitation, but they are safe there. It is a sacred place." Rosalie wiped her knife off in the grass. "But we need to be going, this young troll is the troll king's son. I expect the large one is Grok, the king's head hunter, and the best troll bounty hunter."

 

[Shadowseldil]

"Yes," the black one said as he at last severed the head from the body, "We have hunted them for many days. They must be taught the price of their allegiances."
He tied the head to his waist and leaped from the troll's corpse, landing not far from the group. He stood in a combat posture, and his face was hard as he studied them. When he spoke, it with some suspicion. "You, fairy," he said, "You are free to go and do as you please. But you three; what are you? You are not fairies, as I had first thought. You are too tall, and you bear metal arms and armour. You are too short and scrawny to be trolls. You certainly are not Svartalfar. Tell me quickly what you are, I will decide what to do to you."

 

[WhiteLily]

Rosalie stepped in front of the men and faced the black man. "You overstep your boundaries, stranger. These are my friends and I am responsible for them. Besides that, you are in my land. These woods are rightfully mine by birthright from my father. You will tell me who you are and what you are doing here. I order you." Rosalie glared at the man and the trees and bushes around her rustle, reacting to her anger.

 

[Shadowseldil]

"Do not threaten me, fairy," the man growled as his fists burst into flames, "I have hunted terrors you cannot imagine.
"If you are their ward, then you speak for them. What are they?"

 

[WhiteLily]

"And I have faced horrors that you can't imagine. Do not test me." Rosalie's eyes glowed a fierce green, "I do not have to answer you, but these creatures are humans, from the Above Lands. They are under my protection, you will not touch them or you will feel the wrath of the Queen of the Forest Throne."

 

[Shadowseldil]

The man looked at her sternly, then at the other three. "The Above Lands?" he said gruffly, "Humans? The name is not a familiar one." He stood, considering for a moment, though not dropping his guard for a second.
Abruptly, he seemed to make a decision. "They must come with us to see our king. He will know what is to be done with them. You, fairy queen, may come, or you can leave. I will not prevent you. But know this, for you are too young to know it yourself; your people are here at the will of our people. It was our kings who gave you this land and helped your trees grow in the Deep. The Deep is ours by birthright, by conquest, and by will of the Divine Fires. We shall do as we please in it. Do not you be the cause of war between us."
"Rosalie? Hallo? What is all this?"
It was the scholar. He and the other two mercenaries had returned, being guided by four other black men, each attired and tattooed like the first.
"We found these wondering in the woods near the waters," one said, "One is injured. We have brought them for protection. There are still trolls about."
"More humans?" The first black man said, looking suspiciously at Rosalie.
"Our companions," Naaman said at once, "One is injured, and another is not a fighter, so we sent them ahead with a guard while we fought the trolls."
The black man looked at Naaman warily.
"What is the meaning of all this?" asked the scholar in a huff, "Rosalie, do you know what these men want? Who are they?"
"We are KhalJhala: the flame dervishes," the black man announced with pride, still looking at Naaman.
"We are a mercenary company," Naaman replied, "Exploring the dwarven ruins. We fell down a great pit."
"Dwarven?" the black man said, "what is this word?"
"They are a people, like fairies or--"
"Or humans?" he said, cutting Naaman off.
"Yes, like humans, or like Khaljhala."
"Khaljhala are not a people," he said fiercely, "Only few Svartalfar can be Khaljhala."
"Svartalfar?"
"That is what we are, like humans."
"I am Naaman Bravmire. My name. What is your name?"
"I am called Drue Kry'bhri. We must go before more trolls come."
Naaman walked over to Rosalie and said quietly, "Listen, now is not a good time to tussle over an issue of power. They do not seemed inclined to hurt us, so I think we should just go with them. Aside from that, I think that fighting would, on the whole, be the worst thing. He seemed to dispatch that troll with ease. If it was a case of fighting just him, I would think maybe, but if it came to fighting all five, I doubt we could do it."
He sighed, and continued speaking, "Thank you all the same. Look on the bright side, now you won't get in any trouble for helping us."
The scholar, however, was still a little flustered, "Will someone tell me what is going on here?"
"It looks like we're going to visit the Svartalfar, scholar," Naaman called to him, "I thought you wanted to explore the deep places?"
"Well, yes, but, I mean, it's just a little irregular, is all."
"Move," Drue commanded, "We should go before other trolls come to look for the missing prince. Much as I like killing the foul traitors, I must get you to the king. He will know what to do with humans."
"Did you bring water, scholar? I could use some."
"Here," Simon said as he handed Naaman a canteen, "Should have enough for us for a couple of days, at least."

 

[WhiteLily]

Rosalie hissed, but resigned to follow Drue. "I'm not leaving the humans. Where does your king dwell?"

 

[Shadowseldil]

(((Is anyone else still with us?)))

Drue did not bother to look at Rosalie as he spoke, "We dwell in the deeps, past the magma plains of the fire fairies."

 

[WhiteLily]

"The Dark Places?" Rosalie's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

((Want me to invite some people? I think some of our old buddies are still hanging around.))