Unorganized ResistanceUnorganized ResistanceUnorganized Resistance
The Drow sat with his back to a cedar tree and stared at the canteen he was holding. They had been five days in the mountains, away from any town or village, and he sorely wished for a bed. He studied the ten other men under his command that where resting alongside the mountain trail with him. A mixture of bandits, idealists, and adventurers, the elf thought, where did we ever pick up such a motley crew? By “we” he meant him and his friend. The friend was, at that moment, standing behind the elf -- also leaning against the cedar. &
Story of Sorts
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