Post by Heero007 on May 27, 2005 19:58:44 GMT -5
Darkness descended on the ruins Hjary, a once great Kingdom that had long ago fallen at the hands of the Dark Elves. Hjary itself being the kingdom that had cursed the Kindred, and forced them to take up the Dwarven Arts, making their homes in mountains, while others dug tunnels under the ground that became great kingdoms.
The Dark Elves themselves had once been greatly admired Light Elves, but when the First Kindred Wars broke out, they displayed such a cruelity and mercilessness that their Elven brothers disowned them. What they didn't expect was that the Dark Elves would be cursed after torturing the King of Smithdon to death, the king who had brutally murdered many Elves, prolonging their surfering for his own twisted pleasure.
It didn't matter why they had tortured him to death to the King of Hjary, it only mattered that they had done it. So without seeking the advice of the Elven High Counsel he had cursed them, not thinking of the consequences of his actions, what the Dark Ones might do in the future.
The Majority of the Drow grew sensitive to sunlight, causing them to hide themselves from the beauty they had once loved. Their hearts became full of hate, the desire for revenge consuming them for two hundred years.
On the two hundredth anniversary of their banishment the Drow attacked, surprising the Kingdom of Hjary and sending them into disarray, which lead to Hjary's defeat. When they captured to King they publicly tortured him and then slit his throat, throwing the bleeding carcass onto the people, killing many who touched their king's body just for sport.
The people of Hjary were then enslaved, and their Capitol leveled as a reminder of their victory. That was why they were marching slaves through it right now, to say without speaking the words that they had no hope.
A young slave stumbled in the line, a whip cracking sharply on his back. "Keep moving boy." the drow barked, "Or you'll be whipped."
The thirteen-year-old winced, his blue eyes scanning the ground, his short dark brown hair in wild disarray. The Drow didn't care about the age of the slave, he knew, they only cared about whether he or she worked and if they died the Dark Ones didn't care, they simply burnt the bodies, and replaced the person with another slave.
The boy shook his head, no he would not die like this, one day he hoped to be free, even if that freedom came from his death. He looked around at the others, his tall muscular slender, yet surprisingly strong form seeming slightly out of place as he noted that the slaves in this caravan were largely older than him. He shrugged, no matter he would survive even if no one said a word to him, unlike in the other caravans.
The Drow's whip hit his leg, this time he stopped and pulled the drow off the horse and punched him. Not before two other men grabbed him and let the other gaurd start to whip him.
"Foolish half-breed." the drow spat as he whipped him, the boy's screams of pain filling the air.
The Dark Elves themselves had once been greatly admired Light Elves, but when the First Kindred Wars broke out, they displayed such a cruelity and mercilessness that their Elven brothers disowned them. What they didn't expect was that the Dark Elves would be cursed after torturing the King of Smithdon to death, the king who had brutally murdered many Elves, prolonging their surfering for his own twisted pleasure.
It didn't matter why they had tortured him to death to the King of Hjary, it only mattered that they had done it. So without seeking the advice of the Elven High Counsel he had cursed them, not thinking of the consequences of his actions, what the Dark Ones might do in the future.
The Majority of the Drow grew sensitive to sunlight, causing them to hide themselves from the beauty they had once loved. Their hearts became full of hate, the desire for revenge consuming them for two hundred years.
On the two hundredth anniversary of their banishment the Drow attacked, surprising the Kingdom of Hjary and sending them into disarray, which lead to Hjary's defeat. When they captured to King they publicly tortured him and then slit his throat, throwing the bleeding carcass onto the people, killing many who touched their king's body just for sport.
The people of Hjary were then enslaved, and their Capitol leveled as a reminder of their victory. That was why they were marching slaves through it right now, to say without speaking the words that they had no hope.
* * * *
A young slave stumbled in the line, a whip cracking sharply on his back. "Keep moving boy." the drow barked, "Or you'll be whipped."
The thirteen-year-old winced, his blue eyes scanning the ground, his short dark brown hair in wild disarray. The Drow didn't care about the age of the slave, he knew, they only cared about whether he or she worked and if they died the Dark Ones didn't care, they simply burnt the bodies, and replaced the person with another slave.
The boy shook his head, no he would not die like this, one day he hoped to be free, even if that freedom came from his death. He looked around at the others, his tall muscular slender, yet surprisingly strong form seeming slightly out of place as he noted that the slaves in this caravan were largely older than him. He shrugged, no matter he would survive even if no one said a word to him, unlike in the other caravans.
The Drow's whip hit his leg, this time he stopped and pulled the drow off the horse and punched him. Not before two other men grabbed him and let the other gaurd start to whip him.
"Foolish half-breed." the drow spat as he whipped him, the boy's screams of pain filling the air.
