Bloodstained Elanor RPG

[Amanaduial the archer]

Koran looked across, shocked and frozen as he recognised the slim, lissome figure of the woman who stood beside both he and Herding. But this woman was no mortal: in her hands she held a bow so naturally that it was another limb, half-raised, ready to shoot, and along with the quiver peeping over one shoulder, Koran recognised with a pang of guilt that these were weapons he had taken; her long dark hair had come partly loose and hung around her face wildly; at the bottom of her dress, the material was ragged and dirty, parts having been cut off. But her perfect, porcelain features were the same as the last time Koran had seen them: alert and exhilerated but, this time, completely unafraid, self-possessed, confident. She didn't meet his eyes but in that suspended moment, all Koran could see was the elf.

Herding didn't feel the same way though. With a snarled cry, he raised his sword high above his head with both hands and brought the weapon's blade sharply down towards Koran. The Southron didn't have time to react, turning to see it coming down, ready to stab directly into his collar-

But men are but young in this world: over a millenia of experience gives the elves a certain edge - the edge, the be more specific, of Koran's dagger, grabbed by Coromswyth from his belt and rammed into Herding's stomach, up towards his ribs.

The Southron froze, his breath stopping on his lips and his arms faltering in their vicious downwards arch that would have ended fatally for Koran, and the sword slipped in his fingers, looking about to drop. Slowly, an expression of surprise on his face, the older captain looked down at where the dagger blade was wedged beneath his armour breastplate, stabbing into his ribs, then raised his eyes to the elf, who stared back defiantly. He seemed to waver, sagging slightly at the knees, his fingers loose on the handle of their dangerous burden, his eyes squeezing tight shut, for a moment...two moments...three...

But although he was not a brave or good man, Herding had the strength of an ox. His eyes snapped open suddenly and, giving a terrible roar, he swung towards Coromswyth with a roar. She nimbly stepped out of his path, her face completely impassive and calm, and with the twin sliding silver sounds of metal being drawn out quickly, she unsheathed both knife and sword and faced Herding, waiting for him to turn, taking a ready stance. Glancing across at Koran, she tipped her head towards Herding, one eyebrow raised. Koran understood. Nodding, he drew out his sword, holding it with his uninjured left arm (the other's fingers were entirely useless at the moment) and spoke confidently to Herding: "Come on, Captain, you said you could kill me: do it."

The Southron swung about with surprising speed, and in doing so he whipped his fist around to strike Coromswyth full across the face. She fell with only a gasp, and her head struck against a stone: even amidst the sounds of battle, Koran swore he could hear the sound of her head striking the stone with an ominous crunch as her eyes flickered shut. He flinched towards her, eyes widening, and he heard the other man laugh - a slow, cracked, cruel sound. Looking up, he glared at his foe with every ounce of hatred he possessed. Herding returned his gaze mockingly, his face haggard and the sword grasped in a concentrated, white knuckle grip. Raising one hand, he wrapped his fingers sluggishly around the intricate handle of Koran's dagger, the red pommel shining like a prophesy of Koran's own doom against his hands then, with a yell, he tore it out, throwing it to the ground but an inch from Coromswyth's eyes. Once more, against his will, Koran moved towards the elf.

"What, boy, afraid for the life of the pretty elf?" Herding hissed maliciously, moving between Koran and Coromswyth's prone body. "Elves...wait, I was so sure they were the enemy..."

"Let us have this out now, Herding." Koran's voice was icy and restrained although his mind whirled with questions - he refused to let his eyes turn to Coromswyth, even to acknowledge her.

"Have it out? Why, we shall, boy. And then I think I shall have it out with her - but no, wait, I..can't, can I?" Herding smiled cruelly. "I cannot kill her because, well, you already took care of that, didn't you?"

Koran didn't say anything. Herding's smile widened. "Wait until the Eye hears about this...the captain who slept with the filthy immortal enemy-"

That was it: the younger Southron spun towards Herding, whirling around and bringing his sword with crushing speed towards the other man's side. Herding just rallied in time, his own sword meeting Koran's out of chance more than anything, and sparks flew as the blades met with such force. But there was no stopping Koran now: his brown eyes glowed with deep fire and the scar stood out on his face as he glowered at Herding, spinning away and turning to fight again. They fought by the book: attack and defence, each flawless, but Herding weakening. As Koran swung towards his chest, Herding feinted and stepped backwards, before driving the blade straight towards Koran's unprotected chest. The man leapt backwards, but not before the blade slashed a wound more than two inches deep across his tanned stomach. His hand moved to it automatically and the blood soaked into both his shirt and sleeve and he clenched his fist in pain, doubling over as stars flashed in front of his vision. Herding's laugh rang mockingly in his head as the audacious captain swaggered towards him and put a mockingly companiable hand around the younger man's shoulders, making his knees buckle. He fell to the ground and Herding laughed even more, leaning down towards him.

"This is what comes of defying those far superior to you-" he began, his voice a wicked, gloating whisper in Koran's ear. The young man lashed out with his sword, both hands on the handle as he forced it in a sudden motion up...into Herding's throat. The Southron's eyes widened open and he gave a strangled squawk...before crashing backwards, eyes still open, never to close of their own accord again. Koran knelt unsteadily on the ground.

"Yes," he panted. "Yes, that is what comes of defying those superior to you..." Looking across sadly to where the elf had fallen, his eyes now widened in sudden shock.

Her body was no longer there.

Koran stared at the spot, disbelieving. He had seen her fall, and she had taken such a blow...her head had struck the rock so loudly...

Or had it?

A rush of warmth flowed to Koran's stomach and he groaned, expecting the blood to gush with even more vigour through his resisting fingers...but instead of darkness in front of his eyes, he saw light - the light shining behind a woman's silhouette, her hands held out. Koran's cynical mind immediately presented the solution: he was dying. But even as the thought came, he knew it was wrong. He was not dying: he was somehow recieving life.

"For the kindness you once showed me, Captain Cenbryt, the debt has been repaid." The soft, musical whisper was directly behind Koran's ear, but as he whipped around, standing sharply, sword in hand, he saw no one there. Only a figure bounding away into the crowd, her black hair flowing; and one last time, Koran saw those brilliant grey eyes fix on him with such intelligence that he felt weak and childlike.

Retrieving his dagger from the ground with shaking hands, he surveyed the battle: the elves had increased in numbers, and now the arrows fell like rain over the heads of men and orcs. They would lose...

"Southrons, rally to me!" he yelled over the sound, holding both his weapons ready - just as she had done: the elf who had saved his life.