Lolth Sworn Drow Names Novels & Stories

Draekon muttered, placing his hands on his desk in a composed stance, but frowning when he felt some dust on his fingers. "Whose name was mentioned?" He asked, taking his hands of the desk and wiping it clean on a napkin that was neatly folded by the corner of the desk. "Hashemii." The name struck a nerve. Draekon’s wolf stirred beneath his skin, a low growl rumbling in his chest before he caught himself "Am I crazy for thinking that name sounds quite familiar?" "Not at all." Ambrose replied. "That is the former Sovereign leader of the DragonBorns."

A few of the men remained on the ground, not transitioning to dragons, for they were to deal with the English mages and stop them from continuing to curse the weapons the knights used. They used old and powerful magic that could quickly kill a dragon, and that was the only way the pathetic English were any match for the dragon-shifters. The English had a few shifters themselves, but none of them were dragons, and only a few could fly. There was a phoenix and a griffin among them, but Ian had injured the griffin hours before, and Valen had destroyed the phoenix. It would rise again, but not during this battle.

Joanna was finally unable to hold it in any longer and asked, “How long is this going to go on, Rue? I don’t understand a word of what they’re singing.” Rue smiled when she heard this. But before she could explain, Juno stepped in and said, “This choir was invited from Azure Creek, and they’re called Tenshore Choir. The owner of the choir is named Franzen, and they’re singing ‘Dracolier’s Den.’” “Dracolier’s Den? What song is that?” Joanna asked in confusion. Samantha, too, was listening intently. Adrian explained, “Dracolier was one of the originals of Wyvern Peak, while Dracolier’s Den refers to the ten strongest warriors he had by his side. According to Wyvern Peak’s history, Saint Elmer

The moon hung low and blood-red over the jagged peaks of the Highlands. The wind whispered through the twisted branches, carrying secrets from the past and warnings of the future. In the cold shadows beneath a crumbling archway, a figure moved like smoke silent, unseen, and deadly. Her eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the firelight from the distant pack camp far below. Her name was Liora. She was the Shadowborn chosen, a guardian of ancient magic and dark truths buried long before the first bond was made.

Taiya – (Tah-EEY-ah) Jeylin – (JAY-linn) Layna – (LAY-nah) The Hiamaar – (HIGH-ah-mahr) (Northern Elves) The Chi-maaya – (Chee-MAHyah) (The Faerie Folk) Elyta – (El-EE-tah) Hayle – (Hale) Creatures Goblins: Gerth – (Gurth) Hruge – (Roodge) Oh’Kapi – (Oh-KAH-pee) Ma’veth – (Mah-VETH) Ma’vhor – (Mah-VORE) Weapons Grenyaar: Khortaal – (Kor-TAHL) – Slightly curved sword Khor – (Kore) – Large dagger Dwarvish: Styrha – (STIR-hah) – Obsidian dagger

At the center of the group stood Lilith, a powerful vampire sorceress known for her cunning and ruthlessness. "We cannot let the werewolves believe they have won," Lilith declared, her voice echoing through the chamber. "Draven's defeat is only a temporary setback. We must awaken him and reclaim our dominance." A murmur of agreement rippled through the assembly. One of the elders, a vampire named Vlad, stepped forward. "There is a witch," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. "She possesses the power to bring Draven back. Her name is Morgana, and she dwells in the Dark Woods."

He sensed her close. As he turned to leave, a long shadow blocked the exit of the small cave. It was in the shape of a man, Fae, tall and lean, long dark hair swept back in a low tail. His leathers were black and oiled to a shine and a long, wicked blade hung at his hip. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Prince Aelnith,” The man said coolly. “I am Dother, brother to the Dain and to Dub. Son of Carmun.” Dother’s slick smile never wavered and the very air around him seemed as cold as death.

An old man he was … old but skilled, Raeherys noticed. “Bloody fools,” the man said. It was only him, walking out of the golden doors. Raeherys looked at Larice, who seemed to know the hunter well. “Grand Lorath,” she muttered, making her own stance with her silver sword. “Whitewind …” Lorath spoke, his husky voice hinted hatred. “Why are you fighting on the side of these vile creatures? Have you lost your senses? How could you bring such big shame to the dragon hunters in Shavath?”

The Lycan guy standing by Gloringreag Horncoat stepped forward, followed by a mix of werewolves and Lycans, they came to stand about ten feet away from Saraya and I and bent their knees. "Luna, long may you live," their leader said. "Thank you," Saraya said. "No. Thank you for saving us. A lot of lives would have been lost today have you not come to our aid," the Lycan in the lead said. "What is your name?" Saraya asked. "Adalwulf," the Lycan replied. "Adalwulf, it is an honour to be of service," Saraya said. "Luna, Prince Dane, my sincere gratitude for weighing in even when it was not your fight," Gloringreag Horncoat said, standing by Adalwulf. His clan of dwarves lined behind him.

A HALF-DOZEN MEN that hadn't been visible a moment before, appeared around them and blocked even the only exit. Chloe scanned the room, noting that they were in fact inside a dungeon. She raised Bellatrix at the ready until she found what she was looking for. Drake Lornn and Theo Jōn were tied with heavy chains inside a single dungeon, looking half-dead. There was no sight of Marjien Zūng at all. Chloe turned her gaze upon the enemies that surrounded them. This time, the men of the Olaire Tribe were all accompanied by venomous monsters. Snakes, scorpions, even felines with their tribe's poison.