"Tomorrow we attack House Macjayata. Doubtless, many of you will die, perhaps horribly. But you may take heart that you give your lives in the service of your House. The enemies of our House and our Faith must pay, and we in this room shall be the sword that strikes the blow.
"Draw your weapons from the armory and get some sleep. You are like to need it."
At that, the House drow cheered. For the rest, there was merely a sense of dread. An attack means battle. And in battle, the drow send in non-drow fodder first, to soften up the enemy's defenses and use up the worst of her defensive magic.
Well. As Sha'quia said, you are like to need your sleep.
You were led that night to the Armory, along with a few other chosen slaves. There you drew weapons and equipment. Along with that, you drew a pair of massive tower shields and what can only be described as a massive tree topped with a black iron ferule. A battering ram.
Seeing you, Nymeria had laughed. "So, it's you five that drew gate duty, huh? Well, your corpses will make as good a carpet as any when I stride into House Macjyata. Like the mistress said, get some sleep, yes? I'll see you again on the morrow."