<o:p></o:p><o:p></o:p> In a state of Torpor the Underdark slumbered, waiting forthe opportune time to rise once more. Like a phoenix from its ashes; time and time again they crept forth from the belly of the earth. Stepping from a hostile world of darkness, to a more plentiful and peaceful realm of light. The drums of war now subtly beat, as the war machines of the Drow had begun to stir. From fire weapons were forged, legions outfitted for a single purpose. To enslave the cattle which claim the surface. Beings they felt to be unworthy.Undeserving of free will or rights; creatures bred for a single purpose, to serve the Drow without question. Kneeling was alwayseasier for these creatures. A truth which will soon be put to the test. Unlike most cultures of this Era; in Drow society it was the Women who ran the houses.The men existed as mere tools of war and manual labor far too insulting to be done by their feminine counter parts. The cries of blood deprived killers reverberated from thedampened walls of their tunnels. The shrills of their spider mounts overpowering the clamor of the masses. Soon it would be blood which waters the soil. The corpses of their enemies would serve as fertilizer and food for those they once thought themselves above. A humbling tale how even those high on the food chain will in due time fall and be devoured by those of lesser status. Ofcourse in the Drows eyes the worms which squirmed beneath the rain deprived earth were of higher birth. Their xenophobic mentality often made diplomacy impossible.However even the Drows were not as foolish as to fail to understand that the lesser races could be used as tools. An extension of their own arms accomplishing the will of their people. Any such race which bowed the knee would be spared. So as long as they proved worth the expense of tolerance. Most would label them as savages, ignorant of the complexity within their government and way of life. And the Leader of the Underdark's military might was a woman who went by the name of Valerna. Who was as insipid and baneful as she was beautiful. Showing a form of justice toward those under her charge void of clemency or remorse.She knew only atrophy and the blight that is war. If killing was an art, then she was a master. Her blade was like a brush her victims a canvas. Through their demise she would paint a gospel. They would serve as involuntary apostles. Even now as those who dwell on the surface went about their daily routines. The armies of the Underdark would awaken. Spewing forth from their tunnels and spreading acrossthe land. Clouds of smoke and desecrated villages were left in their wake. Like a cancer they would spread both with haste and potency.However despite their initial surge the pace of their advancement would slow down by their own accord. For the first time in their history they would set upc amp. Nesting within the walls of a recently claimed castle; the lord of whichno longer drew breath. His subjects and servants now being carted into the darkness of their home, they would all soon know enlightenment. Forcibly accepting their now role as a slave. Messengers would ride throughout the realm. Carrying a sealed letter filled with a finely grounded black mineral. As well as a map pinpointing their location. It was not a declaration of total war. Rather a summit of sorts. Offering all the nations one chance to elude destruction. The finepowdered mineral was stable, however if thrown into the fire it would ignite a glorious awe inspiring blast. A metaphor toward the fragile state shared between races. It would take many months before the meeting could begin. Valerna was no fool; she understood that while they flirted with their options. The kings and rulers of this land would ready their armies at home. But this was something she and her men welcomed. They adored the notion of a challenge…or as much of a challenge as a surface dweller could pose. In the nearby providence word had spread of the black army. Elves whose skin were as swarthy as night, with hair as white as snow. Who rode on the back of spiders and slew the dictator which had oppressed them. Some considered the Drow to be heroes. They were fools, the Drow were but the harbingers of their end. The reapers of the harvest, and the harvest drew nigh. The belief that they were saviors of some sort, gained followers as the Drow simply sat there within the castle. Showing no hostile intent; something they may utilize toward their advantage in the not so distant future. Within these stone walls they would wait and see who wouldanswer their call or dare approach the monolithic weather worn wooden doors. Those with enough courage to pass through the mouth of the castle would find themselves venturing into a new world.