The ambassador shifted uneasily from one foot to the other as the crooked smile worn by His Eminence, the Drow Underking Xun-yl, continued to widen. He inwardly reassured himself - he was on a diplomatic mission (although who knew if the dark elves would respect such civilities?). And, besides, he was flanked by a squad of the finest mage-warriors the Bright Isles could muster; all of them prepared with high-level magics of brightness and blinding to repel all but the most stalwart of Drow. So why did something feel so... wrong? "It is our... custom,that the diplomats of men shall not leave our lands with blood in their veins," spoke the Underking with a sneer. The ambassador stiffened nervously with shock. "You shall harm no-one this day, elf! We of the Bright Isles are well versed in the ways of the light that you fear. Raise your weapons against us and you will suffer our magics!" To the ambassador's horror, the Drow's smile did not lessen. "You say you know our fears, human? You say we fear the light?" The Underking, almost without effort, lifted a finger in signal to the shadows beside him. "There are things in the darkness far more worthy of our fear. And yours." A stony rumble announced the ground beneath the ambassador's feet splitting open like a trapdoor into a pitch-black chamber below. "They are ancient, and care little for magic." But the ambassador was already falling, and he screamed at what he saw.
Composition is clustered as hell. Look at all the hoots I give!