You fight and hold your own.

You break into a cold sweat, realizing your **** situation. A three against one odds you could deal with even with the long range given to them with the spears. Combat training is mandatory for a Paladin of the Burning Rose and you've had no small amount of pride at being one of the most skilled swordswoman if not the best at the abbey.

But you know the situation is heavily stacked against you here. The enemy knows the terrain, possesses long range and mounts that can navigate the fungi forest. You've only have your skills and wits, it will have to do. There will be no retreat if you fail, not with the Deep Elves' mounts. Only slavery and other horrors await you and the woman if you are defeated.

You give a short prayer to the Burning Rose as you prepare for battle, then the Elves charge. Their horrid mounts cover ground terribly fast, insectoid limbs practically swimming across land. One of the elves had brought out a large net and race towards you.

Just moments before they reach your location, you dodge, throwing yourself to the side. Crouched you level your sword and slash. The swing cuts through all three insectiod limbs of one beetle mount, drawing a sick looking green blood.

The crippled mount lets loose a shriek as it crashes, throwing its rider right at a fungus tree. The other rider gives a disturbing laugh, throwing aside the net and grip his spear.

"The little virgin proves herself to be more interesting than previously thought. We're gonna get a good prize for her."

You say nothing, scowling to yourself and prepare for the coming attack.

He charges at you, spear tilted directly at you. You've stand still, centering your mind for an attack. At the last minute possible you sidestep the attack, spear tip glancing your skin and you hew directly at its center.

Wood breaks before steel, splinters exploding from the impact site and the spear top falls to the ground. You quickly grab the spear half and throw it at the passing Deep Elf. Metal head pierces flesh and wood sinks in after it. Pale hands let go of the reigns and drop to the ground.

Two down and only one left

The last Deep Elf, seeing her compatriots fates hangs back. Her spiteful grin grew larger as if drawing satisfaction from her partner's deaths.

"Stupid idiots, good for nothing fools. Figures that the only thing they would excel at would by dying to an upper race. At least i'm going to get all the prize from selling you at the City."

Then she pulls out a crystal orb from a saddlebag on her mouth's side. You tense as the elf begins to chant an arcane spell and you feeling currents of magical power feeding into the orb.