The sound of smashing rock greeted the trio as they drew near the clearing where the Standing Stone stood, raising an alarm in all of them. Rushing forward, they rounded the trees at the edge of the road to see a group of drow swinging heavy hammers at the towering monolith; an act of senseless vandalism that literally stopped them in their tracks. “Stop!” Willow roared, searing rage ablaze in her eyes as she pulled her great helm on and snatched her shield from its tether on her saddle, preparing to charge. “What are you doing?” Taenya challenged, barely able to comprehend the pointless act. The legendary artifact raised 1,372 years ago to mark the Dales Compact between the Elven Court of the Cormanthor and the human settlers who had occupied the dales on its fringes was well know for its high magic affect that constantly restored it, so that it would stand for all times as a reminder of the agreement between men and elves. “Erasing a mistake,” snarled Adamar, the leader of the small band of male drow; unlike the others, he wore no armor and bore no visible weapons, but held an ornate staff. “Those fools of the old Court should have driven the human vermin back into the sea when they invaded… Which is exactly what we drow will do!” “Defacing the Stone is pointless, its high magic will restore it over time… it was made to stand forever,” Taenya decried with an almost pleading tone. “Just as pointless and unnecessary as waging war against the Dales. You finally escaped the oppression of Lolth and her matrons, and now you condemn yourselves to a constant battle against those who do not have to be your foes… you could forge a pact as the Cormanthor elves did and leave in peace.” “Of course,” he snarled, noticing the amulet at her throat, “one of the Dark Maiden’s doxies. Maybe if you strip naked and dance for us we’ll see the error of our ways… but I doubt it; we’ll probably just steal that pretty mithral breastplate, kill the man and have our way with you and the woman. But its your best chance to survive this!” “We’re not the ones who will not survive,” Willow growled as she drew her sword and spurred Storm to charge. Raising his hand, Adamar chanted an incantation in Aragrakh, the ancient tongue of dragons used now only in the casting of spells by wizards and sorcerers, unleashing a small sphere of magical energy that shot toward the trio before exploding into a rapidly expanding sphere of fire. However, Willow veered Storm to the side and raised her shield which bore an enchantment to resist spells, while Coran’s martial training allowed him to evade the fireball’s effect, and Taenya’s natural immunity to magic as a drow left her unaffected as well. “Damn you to the light,” he growled a drow curse, as he tried to quickly ready another spell. But the sound of thundering hooves and the scream of one of his men drew his attention to one side, where he saw Willow had wheeled Storm toward him and was charging at full speed; cutting down a hapless warrior who stood in her way. Instinctively raising his staff to defend himself, an act that may have saved him, but wasn’t sufficient to fully turn away the attack as her longsword shattered it and slashed deeply into his torso, sending him sprawling in her wake. The paladin continued to rake through the drow ranks, leaving two more dead behind her, before she turned back to make a second charge. However, in the meantime Taenya had hacked down another two with her bastard sword in a two-handed grip, and Coran had left three more with lethal beatings, leaving none left able to fight. By the time she had returned to the fallen drow wizard, Taenya was kneeling beside him, having rolled him onto his back and was preparing to cast a healing spell, when she confronted; “What are you doing? If you heal him he’ll be able to cast spells again!” “If he dies what he knows of the drow forces in the area dies with him,” the drow priestess snapped back, though she was motivated by compassion, she reasoned that the paladin would respond better to the loss of military intelligence.