An younger elf quickly walks over the walls, as the rain pours and thunders rumble. The air is so thick with all the pressure and anxiety it could be actually cut into pieces. Several lines of elves from the House of the Swallow lean over the wall peeking out at the enemy, quickly gathering as much arrows to put in their quivers as they can. "hmmph..." Duiling hums with uncertainity, checking his own quiver "... Does anyone have extra poisoned arrows?" the young elven lord calls out