“DESPERATION AND HOPELESSNESS”
Lucian groaned, and opened his eyes. He forced himself to stand, and looked around. The guard station was trashed, and several of his men lay dead or dying around him. He stumbled forward, steadying himself with his remaining hand. He squinted and peered out the broken window. Despite the darkness outside, he could still see the Drow herding several of his men towards the woods.
Withdrawing his longsword from its sheath, he gritted his teeth. He lunged forward towards the shattered front door, trying to ignore the pain in his side. He moved as fast as he could with his wounds, pursuing the Drow. He shouted at them, and two of the Dark Elves dropped away from the others. They stalked back at Lucian, firing hand crossbows with deadly aim.
He barely felt the darts pierce his leather armor and sink into his flesh. He engaged the two Drow, lunging at one with his longsword. The Drow dodged deftly, sidestepping the thrusting blade and parrying it away. The second Dark Elf flanked Lucian, stabbing twice with his long, curved daggers. Lucian felt the dull tear of his skin and the sharp sting of the blade. Warm blood leaked down his side and dripped down his leg. He tried to stay up, but stumbled sideways, falling to the ground.
The Drow turned away, rushing back toward to join their group. Lucian watched through blurry eyes as a tall, thin grey-skinned being appeared near the treeline, and used some kind of magic to open a shimmering portal. The Drow shoved the remaining Guardsmen into the portal one by one, and then stepped through themselves. Lastly, the grey-skinned being stepped through the portal. It winked out of existence, leaving Lucian alone … bleeding on the dirty streets of Falstaff.