Drips of Blood

                Imryll didn’t feel safe, these forests were dark, haunted and soaked in evil – why had Araloth sent them so far to monitor the erratic movements of the Beastmen? Her sister was not bothered by their lord’s commands; however Imryll simply didn’t feel comfortable lingering in the murk of the aptly named Forest of Dinge. As usual, her feelings were the polar opposite to her sisters, a trait which had duly led to much bickering but had also changed their fortunes countless times.

                Her thoughts snapped back to the Beastmen at hand, “Disgusting creatures” she murmured as she slid her duel blades from their scabbards. Victory needed to be quick. 

            

                The Elves were routing the marauding Beastmen within minutes, their surprise attack had caught them completely off guard – it seemed that the majority were suffering from heavy intoxication that had occurred the night before. This would be an easy victory Imryll thought, Shael’s counter attack wouldn’t even be required in expunging this menace from Loren’s borders.

Or at least that was until Malagor arrived...

He approached from the sky on his dark twisted wings, blackening the horizon and making the trees groan with fear and hate. Imryll knew of the dark legends of this Bray Shaman, but she’d never seen the creature in the flesh or experienced his dark acts. However before she could even readdress her troops, the scattered herd had already begun regrouping with new hate filled fervour… “Where is my sister”, Imryll thought to herself?

The battle resumed with new ferocity and Elven lives began to fade in the onslaught, it would soon be time for a tactical withdrawal if Shael’s counter attack failed to arrive. Perhaps her sister had already been ensnared by the Beastmen, perhaps the predators had become the prey… “Malagor will pay for this trickery”, Imryll barked in vengeance.

“Will I now?”

Malagor’s twisted hulk crashed into the earth in front of the Elf, his wings retracted around his body as he stood tall, grunting and wheezing as he gazed a hellish stare into the she-elfs eyes.

“The Dead Ones want your blood, or should I say Tainted Blood – Elf.”

Imryll gazed up in horror as the Bray Shaman lurched over her sleek frame; the impact had thrown her to the floor and she hadn’t the chance to escape from the beasts gaze.

“The One shall not rise, they demand that you and your sibling be bled dry, their mission will not be hindered by any other”, Malagor slid a jagged dagger from a pocket dripping with filth and held it to Imryll’s bare throat.

“Perish – Elf”...