Fantasy Children of Blood and Shadows - Devil's Walkway

[Roaring_Dragon]

Children of Blood and Shaddows: Devil's Walkway



*Trigger Warning: This RP contains mature content. If you are not comfortable with gore, violence and swearing, then reading this may not be for you*

An extract taken from the historic writings of the elf Sir Aegadan of Erenanor, written in the year 645



In the year 432 of our ancestral calendar, the first Elven settlers of the Empire of Elyria landed on it's shores. This is to say, they were not the only settlers at the time. The land was populated by what one can only call 'filth'. Demons, grotesque in their appearance and savage in their habits and culture roamed the land as nomads or abiding in archaic settlements. More populous were the humans; short lived and with the gifts of magic so vastly dilute in their veins that they were hardly worth noting. The two primitive races were greatly at odds with each other, petty squabbles over nothing more than farming land.

In the following years after the first Elven ships landed on the shores of the empire, the enlightened of our race proceeded to cleanse the land of the common rabble. They pushed back the unprepared humans and demonic races to areas more deserving of their position; claiming the fertile lands as their own, as was their right. In these holy lands started the construction of our capital, Elaluma. The city's vision was that of architectural and technical innovation, a wonder unlike our race had ever seen.

Ten years after our landing, the empire experienced it's first skirmishes at it's boarders. Petty, unorganised attacks by both humans and demons. It seemed that at the time, the two races were not coordinating with each other and were no more than a nuisance. It wasn't until the year 451, nineteen years after our landing that the two races banded together to form the rival kingdom of Omega. A fitting name of a kingdom that comes last, I say. The kingdom encompassed the mountains to the east, as well as the uninhabitable desert adjacent to the mountain range. After it's founding, it was filled with unrest for many years to come due to racial strife between humans and demons. The empire of Elyria did not feel threatened by the creation of this new allegiance. Focused as they were on the construction of their cities, cultivation of their sacred forests and the extermination of non-sentient monsters from their lands, the early elf settlers decided not to act on this change. The happenings of infertile far off lands were of little consequence. In hindsight, this was a grand mistake.

With the populace united, the savage kingdom of Omega was able to mount an ever increasing pressure on our boarders. Many of our boarder settlements were quickly raided and settlers had to retreat further towards the coast. In the year 453, our queen Iryen the Fair declared that henceforth any humans and demons in the empire of Elyria would be executed on sight. This started the escalation of defensive measures to strengthen our boarders and keep out any invading forces. Very quickly the two sides saw the formation of a buffer zone, latter dubbed the 'Devil's Walkway'. So much pure Elven blood has been spilt there ever-since that even decades later, no vegetation grows on this accursed land.

Now, almost 200 years after the founding of Omega and the start of the war, both sides have been sending envoys for peace talks with the possibility of ending this accursed strife. In my most educated opinion, my personal belief is that any talks will surmount to more bloodshed, as it has always been in the past. Demons and humans with their savage ways, cannot stand for the grandeur of Elysia and will always try and see it's downfall.

Signed
Sir Aegadan of Erenanor,
Historian and Scholar of the Elven Capital of Elaluma

 

[Ririn]

The carriage had left Elaluma five days ago. White and more luxurious than most travelling carriages even for the Elven standards, it was led by three grey horses, bred in the Royal barns, animals of high intelligence and dexterity. Fit to carry one of the most important citizens in the whole Kingdom. Lord Equalon the second.

Lord Equalon was part of the Royal family, not a direct successor to the throne but a young man that had spend more than ten years in the army and was brought up next to the King himself. Equalon, though a military man, was now travelling so luxuriously because he was about to start his most important mission yet. Bring peace to the Elven Kingdom after centuries of war, by wedding a Demon bride of high status. A sacrifice, only a man this noble would make for his people. Stripped off his military clothes, dressed in the finest of silks with not even his sword with him, Equalon was guarded by a twelve member force team, his older brother I'm unculturedhon and his personal advisor, Lady Erin.

Ivorel of Shadows was one of the few members of Equalon's guards that saw this union between the nations as something positive, that's why she was chosen to lead this mission. Yes, it was weird and unheard of but she knew first hand, what this war was doing to their Kingdom. Ivorel remembered all those killed at the borders under her command and those few that she had allowed to follow her, in her undercover missions.

Thankfully, the journey up to now had been nothing but easy. The weather was in their favour and what travelers they had met at the road cleared the path before she could even ask them to do so. Even though the white carriage had no special symbols curved on it and the guards had left their blue and yellow flags behind, their people knew what was happening. Most clearly seemed to disapprove the King's decision to bless such a wedding but few of them had dared to speak up, back when that decision was originally taken.
Now, nobody even dared to think about stopping the convoy. Who would go against some of the best soldiers in the land?

Nobody, was the answer but Ivorel was starting to get tensed now. The borders were still, two days distance but this part of the road was dangerous. The forest was, for the most part, so thick that the sunlight didn't get through and the main road would soon become too narrow for the white carriage which ment Ivorel would have to lead the convoy off the main road, into a more wide one. She had fought with everyone involved in this journey, trying to avoid that but both the King and Lord Equalon wouldn't have anything less than this over the top carriage. They were politicians, fine, they cared about their image especially for such an occasion, where showing their power and riches to the Demons mattered now more than ever, but safety was supposed to be first.

But nobody had cared of her opinion!
So here they were, ready to get in a part of the forest Ivorel didn't trust at all.

"I want everyone on their toes." She yelled from the very front of the convoy, as she raised her fist motioning it was time to turn left, into the dirt road. "Get an archer to come up front." Ivorel said more quietly to her second in command, a dark haired man that rode right next to her.
"Why are you being like that?" He asked, seemingly not giving a damn about his superior's orders.
Ivorel turned her grey eyes on him as a half smile formed on her lips.
"Why are you being like that? I swear, some day your attitude will get us killed Conor!"

Conor returned the smile before turning his horse around, heading to the back of the convoy where a much smaller carriage, carried half their team. He liked messing with Ivorel, who was always too serious with everyone else but him. Having spent years fighting side by side, Conor was probably the one person who knew her so well.
Now riding next to the carriage he banged on the small window.
"Ivorel wants an archer upfront. Move it!" He ordered, not waiting around to see if the soldiers would follow the order. They would, as they always did, out of fear and respect for the white haired female that led them.

"You think it will go wrong?" Conor asked her once he got back to riding next to her but for a while he got no answer.
"I don't know what to think anymore Conor." She admitted "I just wish it won't go wrong. I'm not sure how much more blood I can see in my life."
"I've seen you get aroused because of the bloodshed. Where is that woman?" Conor asked laughing only to receive a cold look from her. He wasn't wrong, but Ivorel didn't want to remember the past anymore.

There was a new era ahead of them, that was the only thing that mattered!
Ivorel took another turn left sending the convoy under the tall trees, feeling her skin chill as the temperature was a few degrees lower in the dark parts of the forest.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

The ancient Elven forest was shrouded in looming shadows as the day stretched into twilight. Tall evergreens reached up to the sky, desperate for the last rays of light, casting the world underneath in darkness. A watery mist clung to the forest floor, hugging every tree trunk and upturned root. It seemed a normal, sleepy forest even to a trained eye. But if one was to look closely, to listen closely, they would notice nothing. Nothing, as silence befell the forest. No birds sang, no animals rustled in the underbrush, not even the buzzing of the ever-present swarms of evening insects. The silence was all consuming.

Yet the presence that the crepuscular creatures so keenly sensed was to be lost on the Elven caravan plodding its way though the greenery.

A flick of golden eyes was all that gave away this foreboding presence. Vox of the Bal'Narathu perched on a sturdy branch of an evergreen, silent as the forest around him. He was clad in earthly colours of moss greens and tree browns, merging perfectly with his surroundings. Even if one knew what to look for, they would simply miss the unmoving figure. Yet the demon was not alone. Three more figures, equally immobile and similarly dressed crouched on their own perches, trained stillness apparent save for their flashing bright eyes, catlike in the forest gloom. And yet, their senses were all on hyper alert, waiting for a sound, a smell or a motion of the swaying vegetation, signifying the presence of their mark.

Vox's eyes wandered to the members of his band. Leon was the closest to him, skin so dark and covered with fur that he barely needed the support of his clothes to keep him hidden. His lithe, catlike form easily found its balance on the forest rooftop, so unlike Vox's own. Yet even though Vox was a creature made for the vast expanses of the desert wastes, he held his own even in this unusual environment. And for that, his men respected him. Vox hadn't been a member of the Black Hand for long, but in the time he had been working with them he had quickly risen though the faction's ranks. His prior history and reputation had no doubt influenced this outcome. In fact, the Black Hand had specifically recruited him for this task. Vox had gladly accepted, but he was no fool. He knew the chances of surviving the day were slim to none. Yet Vox did not fear death, in fact, he welcomed it, like an old friend who had long been denied his company. Anything, to see his goal fulfilled.

A crack in the distance, then a rustle. The group's eyes flashed in the direction of the disturbance. Too far away to be detected by human ears a steady shuffle of horses' hooves could be heard. Leon gave Vox a quick glance to which he replied to with a faint nod. The message was passed on to the rest. Silent as the night, they each slid an arrow out of their quiver and paired it with their strung bow. The caravan was closer now and Vox could count the number of guards. He silently pointed out the archer at the front to one of his companions and they nodded their ascent. They had planned this. They knew what to do.

Suddenly the caravan stopped, a chorus of 'Halt' and 'Problem ahead' was passed down the train. A felled tree stopped their progress down the forest path. The tree looked naturally felled, roots reaching towards the heavens as if to curse the gods for their injustice. Suspicious? No, who would suspect a fallen tree in the middle of a forest? Yet little did they know it had been specifically placed there for their party. As the elves tried to figure out what to do next, Leon made his move. His eyes changed colour, from the darkest blue to a misty white, as if gone blind. As if on cue, the watery mist that clung to the damp earth started to seep higher, weaving ever upwards to obscure the elves' vision.

Everything happened at once then. The sound 3 bowstrings loosing arrows onto their unsuspecting victims twanged in the air. The first arrow took the archer square on the chest, piercing the elf's heart. He crumpled to the ground, like a wet piece of paper. The second was met by a soldier in the mist. Vox didn't know where it hit, but the anguished reply of pain told him that the soldier would be out for the count. Vox's own arrow pierced a soldier through the neck. So much force was put behind the arrow, that it embedded onto the wood of the caravan behind the soldier as he fell dead to the ground, gurgling his own blood.

The group took advantage of the confusion that ensued and before any leading officer could restore order, the group of demons were out of the trees, onto the ground and speeding towards the main caravan. Vox had his two-headed axe out, a fierce grin on his face. Nothing else mattered save for reaching that caravan. He couldn't help it; he let out a vicious laugh swinging his axe at a soldier that deigned to stand in his way.

 

[Ririn]

Dusk was coming at them faster than she liked. This slow marching was killing Ivorel. They had horses, they had carriages, why not push their speed a little? Because they simply didn't want the white carriage to get too muddy or anything! Ivorel had to hold back from cursing the winds!

She rode in silence, not even Conor dared to irritate her right now as the aura around her was becoming darker and darker, much like the forest around them. And when they came upon a fallen tree, Conor knew his leader would execute the first man that would oppose her.

"Halt!" Conor yelled, raising his closed fist in the air for all to see. Both him and Ivorel immediately stepped off their horses.
"This damn forest!" Ivorel yelled kicking the fallen tree. This wasn't going as planned and it made her even more suspicious. She looked around, not sure what she was expecting to find and as she realised the fog had gotten heavier, she heard the familiar sound of arrows flying, even felt the wind on her face by the one that killed the archer closer to them.

"IT'S AN AMBUSH!" Ivorel screamed reaching for the metal whip that hung from the belt around her slim waist, her sensitive hearing informing her of more deaths around her. Lord Equalon! she thought, running straight for the white carriage seeing that one of the attackers, was already ahead of her!

Conor was trying to regroup their men around him, standing firmly next to the carriage, sword in hands, yelling commands unsure of who would hear them. A set of piercing eyes came at him, the only clear sing of the attacker that was otherwised covered by colours that matched the forest, head to toe. Conor marched forward, the sword making a circle above his head before it came down, clinging against metal. Conor made another step forward, charging again, trying to lead the attacker away from the carriage.

Ivorel let the whip unfold, the hundreds of sharp, metallic scales on it, opening up ready to rip flesh off bone if necessary. Somewhere, someone screamed but she didn't have the time to deal with that. She send the whip towards the attacker infront of her, aiming for their leg so she could send them face first,on the moist ground.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox's axe came down on the helm of the guard in front of him. The vicious looking edge sunk down into the metal, letting out a searing screech as it parted the way to the elf's head. The stunned elf didn't even have time to draw his weapon before his eyes rolled back and he went limp. Despite his slow response, the rest of the soldiers were quickly responding to the ambush. By Vox's count, six soldiers were down and another six to go. The rest, under the barked orders of one of their leaders, were swarming the white carriage, trying to protect it's precious 'cargo'. Their intent was focused on the three demons now assaulting the caravan. Vox grinned a maddening smile as he yanked the axe out of the soldier's head, painting him red in a spray of arterial blood. Exactly how they had planned....

Swift as a bird, Cara surged passed him, slender form nothing but a blur. Her daggers were out, slashing and dashing as she cleared a way to the carriage. Her effort, although valiant, was soon soon stopped in a clang of steel by one of their commanders' steel. She hissed at him, forked tongue and red eyes flickering dangerously. She parried the blow and leaped back, avoiding his next attack, before swooping low with her daggers to try and hamstring him.

Vox didn't have time to see how their skirmish would unfold as he carved his own path with his axe. Another fell under his weapon before he heard the shrill scream of Pix, the last member of his team. A quick glance told him of a sinister scene, Pix clutching his now stump of an arm, pain written on his face as a soldier closed in on him. Vox turned his attention back to his own strife, dismissively. Nothing he could do now. They all had known what they were getting into. The plan must go ahead.

Vox all but missed the rush of air as the whip undulated towards him. It was by reflex more than conscious action that he leapt backwards to avoid the surprise blow. Despite his speed, the sharp scales still nicked the side of his half. His eyes shot to the attacking elf. Slender with long white hair, plaited and dreaded back from her face, Vox would have considered her attractive were it not for the pointy ears that bespoke her race. He sneered at her, sharp canines flashing in the dim forest light.

"What is a little kitten like you doing in a place like this?", he scoffed in a deep voice, provoking her as he circled around his new opponent. His voice was edged in the thick accent of his tribe, almost guttural sounding as he pronounced the words of the common tongue.

 

[Ririn]

Conor brought the sword down, lowering his body just a bit, stopping his opponent's attack. With a swift move, he circled his sword upwards, in hopes of disarming the attacker.
"Fucking scums!" He yelled taking yet another step forward. Behind him, the carriage's door opened up just enough to allow Gongo, Lord's Equalon older brother and protector to get off, sword already drawn, ready to protect his blood at all costs.

The whip missed it's target by a few inches but the figure infront of her stopped and turned around to face her. Almost nothing of his figure was visible under the camouflage but the horns on his forehead and the canines that momentarily showed when he sneered at her, was enough to assure her, the ambush was Demons' job.

Ivorel started moving circularly, following his steps, unwilling to lose him from her sight as she gripped the whip tighter, ready to lush at him or use it as a way to keep him away from her, if he dared to make a move. His words, made her smirk. Now that they weren't running she had realised, like most of the Demons, this one was much taller than her, with a broad build. Surely, he had also noticed her slim figure and now she hoped he made the mistake to think of her as weak too.

"This is our land." She answered back in the common tongue sounding like it was her mother tongue, not giving in to his savage way of speaking low of her. The weaker an opponent thought her to be, the bigger the pleasure was when she got to make them bleed!

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Cara danced away from her opponents upwards thrust. She shimmied backwards, drawing the Captain away from the gleaming white carriage. She seemed to be playing him in the palm of her hand before the new arrival from the carriage joined the fray, lifting his sword in a decisive strike. She ducked away from the blow, but the smirk on her lips had been replaced by a frown of concentration, parrying or dancing away from the blows of the two men. Between both trained elves, she was struggling to find an opening to attack.

Vox let out a bark of laughter at the female elf's comment, throwing back his head slightly as his mouth pulled into a feral grimace. The gesture revealed some of his features to the elf, bronze skin and angular yet heavy set facial features.
"Your fucking land?! You mean our land, as it was for centuries before your kind claimed it as their own. We have more of a right to be here that you filthy pieces of shit." His gaze was filled with loathing, snarl set upon his lips and horns lowered as if to charge, a threatening gesture by his people's standards.
"And what about the land you so frequently invade unprovoked, killing hundreds if not thousands of innocents. Will you deign that as your 'right' as well?" He continued. He never stopped his circling as he spoke. He was no fool to let his guard down; the weapon the elf used bespoke of her skill. It took years of training to learn how to use such an unpredictable weapon and years still until one could implement it in combat. His plan was to keep her talking and focused on him.

Yet suddenly, his demeanor changed. The hate was still there, but he smiled a vicious smile. He stretched a long clawed hand out and pointed to the top of the white carriage. "Besides, we might not have won the war, but we have definitely won this battle. You are fools, playing right into our hands". A giggle rose from behind him as Cara noticed what he was pointing at.

The remainder of the elf's party froze, gaze raising where directed. At first, confusion filled their faces, uncertain at what they where looking at. It seemed like a pool of blood was forming at the roof of the carriage, dripping down the side and marring it's pristine white surface with a sinister stain. Yet it was unclear where the blood was coming from. That was until the air shifted like a mirage, and shattered like a mirror, revealing Leon standing there with a devilish smile of triumph on his face. He half crouched on the roof, dark fur rustling in the forest breeze. In his left hand, unmistakably, hang the severed head of Lord Equalon the Second. The Lord's face was distorted in an expression of anguish, as no doubt he had known he was going to die. Leon liked to play with his pray. To attest to this, the demon lifted the man's head so that it hang above him, turning his face upwards to be showered in his victims blood. A fierce laugh escaped his lips before turning his blood soaked face to the horrified crowd and throwing the head at his older brother's feet.

"No wedding for you, little lord. But I'm sure a feast is waiting for you soon. A feast for crows" Leon laughed again, and scurried off the roof and into the darkening forest. The rest would not be far behind.

 

[Ririn]

Conor and Gongo took yet another step forward, this time in sync, both going against the female Demon. Not much could be seen under the camouflage she had on but her small size spoke enough for them to know she was a female.
The Demon dogged their first common attack, jumping backwards, momentarily loosing her firm stand.

Ivorel, still away from the carriage she was supposed to be protecting, more far away than she liked, had her grey eyes fixed on the Demon before her. She was sure, if she run, the man wouldn't be able to catch up with her but he seemed a bit too confident, it made her believe he was the leader of the group and there was no way she was turning her back on him.

"You people seriously need to learn how to leave the past behind you." The elf said smirking, whipping the air not against him, but as a sing she hadn't forgot how this was still a battle, even if he spoke so much,and how she could use the whip without having to look at it to know where it would land. If he was half as smart as he was cocky, he would know wielding a whip ment many years of practice and Ivorel had decades of painful training before she could bring such a weapon to a battle.

And then his aura changed. The darkness was still there, the elf could feel it crawling on her skin but something had changed. Determined not to let him deceive her, at first she didn't follow his hand gesture not wanting to look away. But as everyone's auras around her changed, Ivorel finally looked.

"Fuck me!" she cursed as the mist around the carriage vanished, revealing the Demon holding Lord's Equalon head. "Monsters!" She caught herself saying, as her fingers tightened their grip around the whip's handle.

Gongo froze for a few moments, looking down at his feet, his brother's head laying in the dirt, half covered in blood, his terrified expression frozen in time for ever. Then the elf screamed, with a voice of anger and pain, jumping on top of the carriage, falling from the other side as he run behind his brother's murderer.
Conor, a true military man didn't stay frozen for so long. Instead, he grasped the opportunity ahead of him. The female Demon was distracted, laughing pleased for the outcome. Well, not for long, the dark haired Elf thought, as his sword came down to meet with her left arm. The female lost her weapon, crying out in pain as her blood bathed her camouflage. Their weapons clashed furiously as she tried to maintain her balance, her left arm hanging useless on her side as Conor's sword had cut through the muscle.

Ivorel's face was now a mask of nothingness. Her own aura, growing bigger and darker. Not making a step, Ivorel let the whip flow gracefully towards the man before her, aiming not for him but the double edged axe. Ivorel didn't want him dead. She wanted him alive and chained up.

Conor finally had her where he wanted her. Unstable as she bled out, ready to collapse. He kicked the Demon in the chest, throwing her down, making her lose her second weapon as well. Losing no time, Conor jumped on top of her, bringing his sword down on her chest with so much force that most of the blade disappeared inside her. Conor stood there, watching her fight for a breath, as blood poured out of her mouth. Kneeling, he stripped her head from it's cover, smiling over her face that wasn't smiling anymore and stayed there, zoned out, until her fight stopped and her eyes lost what spark they had. Only then did the man pulled his self, and sword, away from the dead body, looking around him trying to spot Ivorel. His captain looked furious, even from that distance. Conor smiled, running to the carriage instead of her direction. Maybe Lady Erin was still alive in which case he needed to move her away from there, though the changes of that being true were looking very slim. Animals like them slaughtered everyone in sight, even defendless women that were only involved in politics and had never held a weapon.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Leon sped his way through the forest, his part of the mission a success. The rest were now on their own. The initial missive was clear; get in, execute the target, get out as fast as one could. The rest of the elves didn't matter. All that mattered was stopping the accursed wedding. Vox had done a good job planning the ambush, but their master of subterfuge was a keystone for making it all happen.

Leon's sensitive hearing picked up a pursuer crashing their way though the forest. Their gait informed him that the person was charging blindly behind him, carelessly. A smile played on the demons lips. He continued in his trajectory, not doing anything to hide his tracks before backtracking carefully to set his own little ambush. Half closing his eyes, he focused his mind to the air around him as he had done on the carriage earlier. His eyes took on the characteristic appearance of his tribe when delving into the source of magic. The air shimmered around him, and he seemed to vanish, no trace of him remaining. An illusion. Leon sat and waited patiently for his pursuer, dagger drawn.

It wasn't long until Gongo, the lordling's older brother came thumping through the underbrush following the demon's trail, half blind with rage. Leon allowed the elf to pass him and travel further into the forest before he swung down from his perch and onto the now-trodden path. With a swift motion of his hand, he slashed his curved dagger at Gongo's back. The dagger, a vicious looking thing that looked more useful for skinning or dismembering prey rather than combat, dug into the elf's back. The slash was not deep enough to kill; Leon wanted to play some more. The elf let out a anguished cry as fiery pain tore though his back muscles . He turned around, slight hunch in his posture, weapon drawn to meet his attacker. His face was clouded in confusion, unable to spot his pursuer though the illusion.

"Well lookie here... Little Lordling's brother wants to play." he said, disembodied chuckle floating through the air. Leon appeared again on a branch on the opposite side. He brought his dagger to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick the daggers edge dangerously, tasting the elf's life blood.

"Curse you, you sadistic fuck" said the elf, voice strained. He gritted his teeth and coughed, turning his attention to the branch under the demon's feet. At his command, the limbs of the tree started to shift, curling around the demon's ankle. Leon quickly slashed at the limb, before disappearing behind his illusion.

"Shall I tell you of your brother's last moments?" he said, appearing again behind the elf, slashing his hamstring before vanishing yet again. The elf cried out as he fell to one knee.
"Fuck you." he muttered through clenched teeth. "You will pay for this! You destroyed a good thing."
"The little prince begged for his life as I gutted him" the demon continued, ignoring his remark. The dagger appeared to the elf's left, but this time, he managed to lift his blade in time to parry the incoming blow before it vanished. Gongo spat blood on the ground.
"You should have seen him, clutching his entrails pitifully, soaked in his piss as I tore my dagger though his neck" The elf yelled with furry as he lashed out blindly at his attacker.
"Maybe I should gut you too" The dagger was back and parried, but the demon was simply toying with him. They danced like this for some time, before exhaustion and blood loss took over Gongo, array of wounds growing as his parries slowed. He fell on the ground, too exhausted to block any more attacks.

Leon materialized in front of the fallen elf, clothes speckled in blood. A mock thoughtful expression adorned his face as he towered over the prone figure. "Hmm, what shall I ever do with you now? You're no fun." his lips split into a maniacal grin "I think my boss would pay good money for a royal prisoner of war, don't you think?" The elf's vision went black.

***

All hell broke loose in the clearing. Cara's and Pix's death soon followed after the death of their target. Vox was the only one left against four elves. Not the best odds, but not the worst he had ever faced. The deaths around him, both friend and foe invigorated him, giving him an new sense of strength to fight harder. He barely caught sight of the whip as the female elf aimed towards his weapon. All he could do was shift the position of his axe so that the whip wound its way around the pommel and shredding the side of his hand. He gripped the handle hard, keeping the whip tensed between him and the elf, palm dripping blood. Yet given the elf's inferior size and strength, she was not able to yank the weapon out of his iron grip. Instead, he pulled on hers, making her take a couple of steps forward and allowing the whip to go slack. This allowed him the opportunity to untangle his hilt and free his axe. Before the elf could react, he was off, speeding though the tree trunks of the forest and leaving the clearing behind, clothing already serving to hide him from his pursuers.

 

[Ririn]

Ivorel didn't feel bothered when her opponent caught the whip in his palm, securing his weapon was still on his hands. She didn't even flinch when he used his size and strength to pull her closer. All she did, was rotate the whip handle, knowing that the rest would follow, cutting his hand deeper even as he managed to free his weapon and turn like the coward he was, to run away. The elf knew all she needed was his blood anyway, not his head.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Conor yelled next to her but she just smiled, pulling the whip towards her, securing it back on her belt.
"You three!" She yelled to her soldiers. "Stay here and make sure nobody comes close. You," she said pointing at the only female left in the group. "Take a horse and go to the nearest town. Send word to the King and only the King. Wait for us at the outpost." As the girl bowed, rushing to fulfill her command, Ivorel turned to Conor.
"Is Lady Erin dead?"
"Yes. He slaughtered her like a pig."
"Fuck me!" Ivorel yelled again, walking in circles feeling the need to punch someone grow bigger inside her by the minute.
"What do we do now? It's the worst that could happen. Fucking scums! Fucking animals!" Conor was angry too and it showed.
"Now we find that fucker. Track him down." Ivorel ordered walking deeper in the forest following the direction the massive Demon had taken.
"You drew blood?" Conor asked with a smirk following her.
"Of course I did. Now find him."

Conor closed his eyes, focusing on the energy around him. Then he reaches blindly for the closest tree with his free hand. The moment he came in contact with it, his eyes shot open. His thoughts were overrun by images of the forest. His mind connecting to a deeper level with the flora around them, gathering images and senses and smells. A leaf had his blood on it, Conor started to move.
A tree had been touched by him, Conor opened up his steps moving a bit faster, Ivorel following right behind him.
No clear image yet, he was still camouflaged but the smell of the blood was strong. Conor started to run.

After a few minutes he froze, Ivorel stepping to the side just in time to not crush on him.
There was a time, long ago, when she would have asked Conor why had he stopped or what the plan was, but she had worked with the tracker for long enough by now.

Ivorel climbed on the most thick tree, balancing on a branch that reached over the path below them. She brought her hand to the whip, ready to free it as soon as the Demon would come in sight. Ivorel's eyes became just a hint darker than they normal grey as the shadows around her draw her in their safety, hiding her physical form as well as her aura from everyone around her. One of the many positive things about being a Shadowborn like her.

Conor had brought them exactly where the Demon was coming, taking a bigger root than the Demon had, but using the Elven speed to their advantage, he had brought the two on the right spot on the right time. Now, to make the ambush perfect, Conor started walking, sword in hands, to meet with the Demon by... accident. When Conor would start to run, the Demon would follow and Ivorel would take it on from there.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox snaked his way through the forest, leaving as little a trail as possible in his wake. As he ducked behind trees and jumped over roots, he kept an ear out for his pursuers. Despite the years he spend fighting in forests, his lumbering form did not make it easy for him to navigate the current environment. Alongside this, the humidity of the forest made his clothing stick to him like a second skin. What he wouldn't give to be conducting this operation in the scorching deserts of his homeland...

Vox paused behind a tree, senses alert, breathing slightly irregular. No sound or smell told him the position of his enemies. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. He knew they would not give up the chase this easily, not after their Lord's death. In fact, Vox had counted on it, hoping to lure them in the forest and split them up as they searched for him. Then he could just pick them off one by one as he attacked from the shadows. So, where were they?

Vox continued his trajectory, more cautiously this time, eyes scanning both the ground and the treetops. A prickling tingled the back of his neck, as he sensed some unknown magic in the air. Then, he spotted the male officer, tugging his way though the underbrush towards him. Alarm bells rang in his head; what were the chances that the elf had both overtaken him without him noticing and be found in his path? Vox scanned the treetops, expecting an ambush, but his superior senses spotted none. He wasn't a fool.

Silently, he unhinged his strung bow from the position on his back, palming the carved wood. He notched an arrow and in a controlled motion, he pulled back the bowstring. On an exhale, he parted his fingers and the arrow whizzed through the air aiming for the elf's legs to immobilize him.

 

[Ririn]

Ivorel still waited. Breathing in and out, slowly, carefully. She had patience. All of her kind had patience, time wasn't relevant for them. Not like it was for humans not even like it was for Demons. Plus, she felt comfortable in the shadows, hidden away from the rest of the world. Now, hidden from the Demon that had led the attack on them. I'm sure he was their leader, she thought and then suddenly she heard the wind change, very slightly, somewhere behind her. He was here!

Conor had also figured out the man they were after was close by. The trees around him had told him of his coming so when the arrow flew towards his feet, Conor spinned around, the roots around him, pulling themselves up from the moist dirt, protectively standing tall infront of him, the arrow piercing one of them, the wood opening up under the hit. Conor gripped his sword tighter, standing defensively at his spot, narrowing his eyes just a bit, before he finally spotted the Demon a few metres away from him. Good, this would end soon.

"Hello again coward!" Conor said loud enough to be heard even from a distance.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox narrowed his eyes at the display of magic. He needed to be more careful. He had experienced elf magic before, yet this man seemed stronger than the average elven soldier. He shouldn't be surprised really as he know this elf hadn't gotten to his position without the skill to back him.

His cover blown, Vox saw no point in hiding anymore. He stepped out from behind the tree, an imposing figure blending into his surroundings, piercing golden eyes almost appearing to glow in the dim forest light. He had another arrow notched, bowstring taught, ready to let another arrow fly at the slightest sign of the elf's form from behind the tree roots

His voice was deep and provoking as he said "Says the person hiding behind his magic roots"

 

[Ririn]

Conor didn't move. He stood behind the roots smiling to himself. The Demon needed to be drawn closer to Ivorel's point, without making it too obvious that it was a set up. If Conor just turned around and started to run, even a Demon moron would find his behaviour odd.

"Well, if you are so brave why don't you come closer scum?" He answered back, amused. "Are you afraid of a little magic?"

Meanwhile, Ivorel was still waiting, feeling the darkness spread through the forest as soon the last of the sun would be gone. And then, with the blessing of the Moon Goddess and the ancient forest around her, her strength and powers would be at their pick. Closing her eyes, she could already fantasize of the Demon man screaming under her whip.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox's lip curled in a sneer, canines peaking though his upper lip. His mind raced, trying to find a way to combat this impasse. It was true, he was weary about the magic, but any sensible creature would, given the fact that he didn't know the full extent of the elf's powers. But he couldn't see a way to defeat the man without getting closer.

Swift as a snake, he unsheathed two of his throwing knives. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them flying, hilt spinning over tip. He aimed for the right edge of the root wall, where he had thought he had seen some movement and the root was less thick. He fully expected them to be blocked, but used them as a distraction as he swerved towards the left, axe drawn. With a growl, he lifted his hefty axe and smashed down with his vast strength on the right hand side of the wall. The root crumbled, collapsing under his weapon. He twirled the axe, second swing towards the elf, fully intent on dismembering him.

 

[Ririn]

Conor heard the knife cut the thick moist air and dugged not bothering to block it. The knife cut through the roots but got tangled between them where they got thicker.

His opponent was moving fast but he was bulky. Too bulky in this environment especially in contrast to an Elf that was in his natural environment. Conor rolled backwards, avoiding the axe coming at him, jumping back on his feet. He took another step backwards, holding his sword extended infront of his body as a shield, ready to block another attack by the Demon.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

As the elf rolled away from his axe swing, Vox took a step forward, closing in. He hefted his two-sided weapon with both hands and brought it down with a mighty downwards strike. The elf took the blow on his shield, yet shocked by the force of the strike he was pushed back, arm going numb momentarily. The blow had put a dent in the shield but before Vox could strike again to shatter it, the elf deftly moved out of range. The axe embedded itself in the ground where the elf had just been. Unbeknownst to Vox, the elf was leading him further and further down the path.

The elf lashed at Vox with superior speed, sword extended in a lunge. The demon barely had time to lift up his axe, parrying the blade with a clang. Vox smiled, half maddened grin on his face. They were well matched, both equally skilled and Vox lavished the thought of besting such an opponent. War and battle was in his blood; this is why he lived, this is how he came alive. At the elf's next lunge, the demon sidestepped his sword and recklessly, grabbed the naked blade. The sword's edge bit into his left palm. The elf, so taken by surprise by this careless act was slower to respond as the axe came down on his face. All he could do was lean away; most of the axe's blow falling on his cheek, slashing it open. The elf cried out in surprise, retreating further as the demon let go of the sword.

Vox laughed; a crazed sound, looking at the bloody gash on his palm. He then looked at the elf's blood on the rim of his axe. "Blood. Ain't it glorious? It gives us life, and if we steal enough of it from our enemy, we take away his life away"He rested his palm on the edge of the weapon, combining the two crimson fluids. A searing sensation swam though his hand before he withdrew it. He bought his palm to his mouth, licking off the excess blood. All that was left of the wound was a half healed scar. "Your kind's blood is especially powerful for me". He laughed again before stepping closer to the elf. The elf backed further down the path, left eye half closed and blood dripping down his cheek.

"Fuck you, scum. You disgust me.", said the elf. But he had him right where he wanted him.

 

[Ririn]

Ivorel was calm, even though she had heard Conor screaming in pain and could now see his face covered in blood, his cheek slashed open. He would complain non stop about it, whining about how the Demon had messed up his face.

But then, the Demon got right into where she wanted him to be and she took action. First, silently the shadows started to grow thicker around him and as Ivorel freeded her whip from atop the tree, still hidden away, the shadows formed clawed fingers, creeping up from the ground, going straight for the Demon's feet. His higher senses warned him something was wrong but he didn't expect shadows coming up at him.

Vox tried to walk away but you can't just escape a shadow like you would do if it was a tree root. He growled as the claws sunk in his flesh, bringing his axe down forcefully. It went right through them, hitting the dirt below them but their grasp on him didn't stop. He managed to get a few steps backwards but that didn't seem to stop them either. The shadows only grew bigger, following him, their clawed fingers tearing away at his clothes and flesh as he moved. What kind of magic was this? Shadow Elves were a thing for fairytales, spooky stories for children. Vox looked around, pinned on his place, eyes shinning bright with hate. Was the male elf doing that? His higher senses told him somebody else was controlling the shadows.

At the same moment, Conor backed away, a grin forming on his lips as he looked straight at the Demon.
"Well, now you are fucked." Conor commented as Ivorel let her body gracefully fall forward, like she was driving in a lake at a summer's day.

First came her whip, wrapping around his neck, round and round forming the most peculiar of necklaces around him. Then came Ivorel herself. She fell on him with her knees kept close to each other, hitting his spine, making him loose his balance and fall over. Ivorel expected that to happen and pulled on the whip as she fell with him, causing the small blades to sink in his clothes and flesh, forcing his head to move violently backwards.

Vox hadn't expected an attack from the air. He had checked in the trees yet he had seen nothing! And now here he was, getting choked by that bitch, his legs feeling akwardly weighted down as more and more of the shadows were wrapping around him under Ivorel's command. But he wouldn't fall so easily! Putting one hand firmly on the ground, the Demon pushed his torso up and at the same time swinged the massive axe backwards, aiming blindly but finding his target.

Ivorel yelled in pain and anger as the blade of his weapon cut her upper hand. She had seen it coming fast enough to not get hit right on the head but not enough to avoid the hit completely. She rolled away from him and Vox immediately took advantage of the opportunity, rattling like a snake trying to stand up again.

"Oh, no! You are not going anywhere!" Ivorel said, utterly pissed off now. She jumped back on her feet, pulling the whip with her, tightening it around his neck as her right leg came down kicking his spine hard. The Demon still tried to brake free but the weight felt heavier and heavier, plus that bitch Elf was chocking him.

"Damn.You." he managed to whisper as Ivorel pulled more of the whip, securing it around her hand in a loop, making the distance between them shorter and shorter until finally, she was kneeling right next to him.

"Nighty night!" She wished him with a wide smile on her lips though she doubted the Demon had time to hear that before he passed out. Ivorel kept chocking him for a few more seconds, making sure he wasn't playing games and then finally she stopped, pulling the whip away more harshly than necessary, knowing the blades would have cut him.

"I never get tired of watching you do that!" Conor said approaching the two opponents, bleeding heavily but managing to smile. Sort of...

"That motherfucker got me!" Ivorel said looking at her own bleeding shoulder, feeling the cut with the tip of her fingers, closing her eyes and bitting her lips in clear discomfort.

"We need to get out of here." Conor noticed but his captain was on her knees again, turning the Demon around.

Ivorel's shadows were still all over his feet to the point where there was nothing visible of him and were now climbing up higher. When they would reach his ribs, there wasn't a chance of him waking up before she wanted him to, as they would cut out most of his air supply by tightening around him like a snake. When they would reach his face, covering it, Ivorel could kill him at any given moment. But right now? Right now she wanted to see the face of the one who had fucked up everything.

She pulled his head cover away and blinked. Passed out like that, he looked almost normal. Peaceful even yet there was something about his face, something that spoke of strength and hate. It wasn't just his face, it was his aura too. Ivorel reached over, placing a hand on his cheek, closing her eyes ready to push herself in order to read more of his aura but it wasn't necessary. It burned her like fire, making her scream in surprise, pulling away immediately.

"What?" Conor asked worried, leaning over her, a drop of his blood falling on the Demon's forehead.

"NO!" Ivorel screamed, pushing Conor away and wiping the blood away. "NO! Don't come near him! Cover your wound." She said, getting up and tearing a piece of her shirt, wrapping it tightly around her shoulder.

"Why? What's wrong?" Conor asked but at least he had walked away like she had told him to do.

"I know him. You know him." Ivorel turned her grey eyes on Conor. "Everybody fucking knows him!" She said kicking his weapon away. "He is fucking Berserk!"

"Who?"

"Oh, for Gods' shake Conor! Berserk! The Blood Demon? The one that goes crazy when he smells his opponent's blood?" She explained pointing at the still, passed out Demon between them making Conor's smile freeze on his face.

"We are fucked!"

"No, we are not. He is, he just doesn't know it yet!" Ivorel said very seriously, returning her whip to its place on her waist, motioning for Conor to follow her. "Come on. I want him in chains as fast as possible."

The two Elves walked fast and between them, held just above the ground, Vox was unwillingly following, wrapped in a cocoon of thick, pitch black shadows.

Knowing every moment wasted on anything else other than the Berserk's interrogation was a moment that could cost her place, Ivorel didn't wait around for her soldiers to understand what was going on. She left them behind to take care of the young Lord's and his female companion bodies, walking without stopping with only Conor by her side.

When they finally reached Ghason, the nearest town with an army outpost they were greated by the highest officer there. A dark haired, male Elf that looked at the shadowy cocoon like he was seeing Death himself on his gates.

"We expected you Captain." He said after the formalities, still looking at the cocoon though. "Your soldier told us to prepare our chambers for a prisoner?"

"I want a tend." Ivorel said "Set it right now, in the outpost's perimeter but away from anyone else. Bring the toughest chains you've got, two chairs and the biggest, most solid shit I can hung him from!"

The officer looked at her, obviously confused. "Like I said, we have prepared..."

"I don't give a horse's shit about what you said. I don't want him near anybody else."

"Who is he?"

"None of your business." Conor said now getting angry. He was tired, in pain and worried. They didn't need a moron telling them their opinion. "Look dude, you seriously don't want to get her angry. Just do what the fuck she told you to do and shows us your infirmary."
The officer took a whole silent minute, looking the two, observing their weapons and constantly looking at the freakish cocoon between them. Eventually he nodded in agreement.

"I will set the tent as fast as possible. The guard will take you to the infirmary." He said motioning to one of the gate guards to come closer. "Lead the Captain and her commander to the infirmary immediately, then return to your post." He ordered his man, leaving before they could ask anything else of him.

Ivorel followed Conor and the guard but her mind was solemnly focused on her prisoner. She was tired. Extremely tired. They were out of the forest for too long now and her powers were beginning to fade out, she was drained. And maybe some part of her, a very small one, was scared too. Her prisoner wasn't just anybody. He had a name, one she didn't know, but he also had another name, one given to him in battle. Berserk. The Demon that terrorised their armies for years now. Somebody cold blooded, somebody stronger and more wild and fiercer than they had seen before. A brute. A man that lived to spill blood. And Ivorel had failed because of him and was now ... What was she supposed to do now?

Somebody was dressing her wound and somebody was pushing a cup on her lips. Something hot. Ivorel only looked at what she knew lurked under the darkness she had created. The same darkness that everybody avoided. The same darkness that was draining her.

"You need to stop now." Conor said, putting a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Is the tent ready?"

"No idea."

"I'm not letting him until he is up in our chains."

"You are starting to look sick Ivo, seriously. You know even if he let him he won't come around for a few hours still."

"I'm not letting him among our people." Ivorel said shaking her head and pulling away from Conor, forcing her self to walk out of the infirmary, taking the Demon with her, feeling as if she was pulling a stone behind her.

"Captain! Just in time. We have prepared your tent." The officer appeared before them, standing with his hands behind his back. "Please, follow me."

They did, walking through small buildings and large tents, going closer to the wall of the town with every step until finally, a lonely large tent appeared before them. The officer pulled the fabric of the entrance to the side, stepping to the side as far away as possible from the weird trio.

Ivorel was greated with a sight better than the one she was hoping for originally. They had set up a whole metallic system of pipes that formed a triangle of sorts. On the top part, where the pipes met, there were two big hoops , where the chains for his hands would go and two equally big hoops lower, one on each of the side pipes, for his feet. The construction was kept in place by smaller pipes that ended up in the ground and a number of weights so the rattling wouldn't let it move, allowing the prisoner to escape. Heavy chains layed on the ground before it, a bucket of water and two chairs. And on the other side of the tent, a large table with clean water, a carafe of wine, two cups and a bowl of fruits.

"Is it properly done?" The officer asked, making Ivorel almost smile.

"It is, yes, thank you. We won't be needing you anymore for now." With that, the man was gone and Ivorel collapsed to the nearest chair, the Demon's body hitting the ground as it fell with her, the shadows quickly starting to vanish.

"We need to tie him." She said trying to get up only to get pushed down by Conor.

"You stay there and leave the rest to me." He said and only now did she notice that half his face was covered in gauze. The sight made her hurt and she wanted to help him with getting the Demon securely in chains but instead, Ivorel fell asleep right there on the chair, leaving Conor to do the heavy work for the next half hour.

When he was sure the Demon's hands were secured in chains, hanging far above the ground but not completely stretched yet, he also secured his legs leaving the body lying on the floor, instead of forcing it into a position that could probably wake him up sooner. Then he carefully layed his cape down, away from the Demon, picking Ivorel up and letting her sleep on the ground, making sure to cover her up with her own cape.

Only then did he leave, searching to find another tent to sleep in or better yet, set it up next to where they would keep the prisoner.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox phased in and out of consciousness. His body was immobile, no amount of willpower or sheer strength were able to shift the crushing pressure on his limbs and chest. In brief moments of wakefulness, he viewed the world around him though a mist of purple and black shadows. In those brief flashes, all he was able to do was take in a snapshot of the scene around him before his sank back into darkness. Faces phased in and out of his vision occasionally, strangely warped and malformed by whatever shroud engulfed him. He recognized the two elves from the carriage walking though the forest. A settlement surrounded by pitiful walls, tents pitched on the outskirts. The inside of a red tent. Then nothing. The void of unconsciousness swallowed him up and he was unawares of the world around him. His mind however swirled with colour. Memories, snippets of his life flashed before his eyes tormenting him. His mind settled on two scenes, repeating over and over in his head, his own personal form of torture.

***

The curved horn of the Sand Wyrm thumped on the arid desert ground. It's jagged tip torn from the skull of the deadly creature still had pieces of scaly skin attached to it.

"Uzuk!" Vox's voice boomed across the gathering. His leather armour was dusty from the desert wastes, parts torn where the Wyrm had ripped it away. Blood streaked down from his shoulder; a new wound. A murmur rippled through the gathered crowd as they stared at the horn, fully comprehending the significance of the gesture. The gathered demons buzzed with excitement, many a golden eye gleaming with fervor in the desert heart.

"Uzuk Al'Roth, chieftain of the Bal'Narathu! I, Vox, son of Gorlath; chosen of the old blood, challenge you for the leadership of the tribe of Bal'Natharu." The formal challenge rang through the crowd. It was met by a mixture of growls, some of approval, some of dismissal. "To prove my worth to challenge you, I have bested a Sand Wyrm and brought the tribe it's horn to prove my valor."

Surprise ran though the crowd. The deed was not unexpected. It was tradition to bring a horn to initiate a challenge for the leadership. Yet it was unheard of for one to best a deadly sand wyrm on their own. Such a thing hadn't been heard of since the old blood ran thick in the veins of the tribes-people.

Uzuk Al'Roth sat on a throne made of such horns, wielded and carved together to make an imposing ivory mass of jagged protrusions. The tribe was semi-nomadic and few structures were kept that were not easily discarded or deconstructed. The throne of their ancestors was one of them. If Vox won the challenge, his Wyrm horn would be added to the throne, a permanent mark of his prowess in the ever changing settlement for generations to come. Uzuk learned forward on the bone throne. His face was almost black, not due to the colour of his skin, but the heavy tribal tattoos that the Bal'Narathu favored. His bare forearms were marked with purposeful scars, each representing a fallen opponent he had bested in a challenge. His own horns were majestic and bespoke his age; large twisting ram-like protrusions that curled from his forehead back around. He lifted a scared lip, flashing long canines.

"Vox, son of Gorlath. It does not surprise me that this day has come. Come, I will tear off your horns and mount them in my home. It will remind young-lings like yourself to leave leadership to someone of experience." Uzuk scoffed. His voice was deep and guttural as he pronounced the language of the tribe. He heaved his massive form from the throne, towering over a lot of the Bal'Narathu. He lowered his head, a gesture of challenge and aggression. As he descended the makeshift dais onto the packed earth the crowd parted in his wake like a slow moving liquid. The people of the tribe cleared a large area for them to fight, crowding close together to observe what would be a fight to the death.

Uzuk drew his axe; a large vicious thing, marred with scars that told a tale of many battles. Vox mirrored him, weapon out, twirling his two headed axe in his hand. The steel glinted in the unrelenting sun. He charged, furious shout echoed by the cheers of the crowd. Uzuk met his axe with his own, the clang of metal a sheer shriek. He brought his own weapon up and pushed the younger demon back.

They danced like this for what felt like hours, circling each other as the crowd jeered. At first, it seemed like Uzuk had the upper hand as small wounds appeared on Vox's body. Yet the leader did not remain unscathed, and soon his blood stained Vox's blade. But where it slowed Uzuk down, the smell and taste of coppery blood in Vox's mouth just added to his stamina, growing stronger as he drew on his opponent's life force. The magic of the old blood assisted him where it failed the old leader.

There was a point where the tide turned, and Vox was pushing Uzuk back. The sneer on the leaders face vanished as he concentrated on blocking the other demon's blows. Vox laughed, a crazed sound filled with blood-lust. He twisted his weapon and with a practiced motion, Uzuk's axe went flying out of his hand. Vox laughed again as he closed in on the retreating demon.. Vox dropped his own axe and it landed with a thump on the hard ground. He leaped at Uzuk, arms extended. They grappled on the ground, each trying to get a hold on his opponent. The combination of sweat and blood made their palms slick and their bodies elusive. Uzuk managed to get a hold of his neck at some point before the younger demon could throw him off. Vox grabbed the leader's horns and yanked him to the ground. He placed a knee between his shoulder blades, keeping a tight grip of the bony protrusions, turning his head to an awkward angle. Uzuk yelled and growled, trying to shake him off. The hands didn't budge, forcing his face closer to the ground.

"Submit" Vox said, his breath uneven.
"Never" Vox yanked on his horns harder, causing the other demon pain. Uzuk howled in rage.
"Submit" He repeated, face close to the other man's ear. Uzuk snarled, one amber eye boring into Vox's own.
"A Bal'Natharu never submits." Uzuk uttered in a pained voice. "Kill me now, so that I can join our ancestors in the great desert hunt" The amber eye closed, defeat lining his features.

Vox conceded. It was not the Bal'Natharu way to shy from death, but to welcome it. No Bal'Natharu would submit to an opponent without suffering the scorn of their tribesmen and ancestors. So Vox jerked his hands. Uzuk's neck snapped. He shuddered once; then he stilled.

As he stood from his opponent, the crowd cheered and closed in. Faces swam in his vision, his people. Faces he knew from his childhood; teachers, friends, relatives. He was now their leader. Many now touched their forehead when they looked at him; a sign of respect. He laughed, a joyous sound as he basked in his victory. A face came into view. A beautiful demon, her hair as dark as his, skin the colour of liquid bronze and eyes a bright shining gold. Her horns were graceful and arched, framing a slender face. She smiled and the world melted away as he beheld his mate. He drew her in for a kiss as the crowd pulsed around them.

"I'm proud of you, Vox, chieftan of the Bal'Narathu" She said as she pulled away from the embrace, the smile playing on her lips. Her hand rested on her swollen belly that carried Vox's child. Vox turned to the crowd.

"Tonight, we feast! Let us celebrate the passing of our old leader as he joins our ancestors and to the victory of your new chieftain!" The crowd cheered again as he looked into his mate's eyes with adoration. One set of eyes, full of hate gazed at the couple from afar before turning away from the celebration.

The scene changed and melted away. A different memory replaced the happy victory. Gone was the cheering crowd. Gone was his mate's captivating smile. Gone were the tents and makeshift structures around him. It was no longer afternoon, but late evening. The sun had sunk far on the horizon, painting the desert a sinister red. Vox grasped his waist, putting pressure on the wound on his side, limp obvious in his stride. He dragged his leg behind him, ankle useless, left eye half closed due the new gash over his face. The prospering settlement around him was in shambles. Tents littered the ground; torn or burnt. Mud structures crumbled around him, shattered like a child's toy. His foot squelched as he walked though blood soaked mud. Bodies littered the ground around him, friends and loved ones. He ignored them all, his intent focused on reaching the temporary structure that he had called home. His body was on fire, yet every wound spurred him on a bit more. One more corner, one more blood soaked path.

He stopped.

He stared.

He sunk to his knees, a cry of anguish on his lips as he put his head in his hands.

There was his mate. Her face was twisted in lines of anger and pain and fear, forever frozen in time. Her eyes were glazed over starting into space as her head stood impaled at on the tip of a spike. Vox crumbled. Everything was lost. He couldn't protect them. And worse, he hadn't died with them.

***

Vox's eyes opened, his breath coming in short gasps as if he had been drowning. He took in his surrounding with practiced ease in a split second. The tent. The chains around his limbs. The hard ground he was slumped on. The sleeping figure at the side of the tent. He coughed, his throat raw and damaged, spitting out blood. He brought his hand to his neck and fought a wince. The skin was in tatters and deeply bruised, necklace of small wounds encircling his neck from his encounter with the whip. He was surprised he was still alive. His amber eyes lingered over the structure he was chained to. The chains were loose as he was not firmly affixed to the metal frames. He tugged hard, attempting to dislodge the structure. It didn't budge but the yanked chain sent a metallic ringing sound though the cavernous of the tent. He got to his knees and tried again, using his body as leverage. Nothing. It was well built. How many felled enemies would it take to give him the strength to move such a structure? He dismissed the idea.

His eyes lingered on the sleeping figure by the table. He couldn't see much under the cloak, but he could tell the sleeping form was small and long pale hair thoughtlessly sprawled across the floor. He couldn't tell if the figure was facing him or not, curled as they were under the blanket. He tried taking a shuffled step forward to close the distance, yet the chains pulled back. Annoyed and and exasperated, he sat down on his knees, his back perfectly straight. His golden gaze was intent on the figure as he waited.

 

[Ririn]

Ivorel had sunk in a dreamless sleep of pure exhaustion, enough to make her mind forget everything else that was going on. What she could and couldn't do with her powers was an unclear mystery even to most of her own kind. Not many Shadow Elves were left, since they were used in great numbers when the Elves had first taken up the land of Elyria, fighting in the first line, going under cover against the Demons, as they could move in the shadows and hide better than anyone else of their kind. A sacrifice they had made, willingly as the ancient books said, for the benefit of their race.
What most still didn't know was how easy it was for a Shadow Elf to overstep their boundaries, spend their life force when using their magic. Conor though, having fought side by side with Ivorel knew that, so he made sure to let her be. She needed sleep, now more than ever.

The ringing sound of the chains as the Demon pulled on them wasn't enough to wake her up either. If they hadn't been carefull, he could have broken free, killing her as she layed there but Conor knew that too, so he had made sure the prisoner couldn't escape.

It took more than an hour after Vox had come around, for Ivorel to open her eyes. In an instant, everything came back at her, the memories of how her mission had failed, hitting her harder than she would have expected. It was bad. Really, really bad. For her. For Conor. For their people. For peace. Ivorel moved, pushing the cape away, blinking her eyes to send the last of sleep away. Looking around, she found the Demon waiting for her, exactly where she had left him. Chained up, looking directly at her with his golden eyes, on his knees.

She didn't say a word and instead turned her back at him, reaching for a cup and the water. She drunk the full cup, licking her lips and silently wondered if she should eat or not, only to discover her appetite was long gone. Eventually, she poured another cup, taking it with her as she walked towards him.

"Take it." Ivorel said bluntly, extending her hand towards his but still keeping her distance. He couldn't get to her but better be safe than sorry, right?

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Time passed slowly as Vox stared at the Elf. Plans and possibilities raced through his mind, many discarded as quickly as he thought of them. Plans of escape, of getting a message to the Black Hand, of sabotage. Many plans of trying to take down as many elves as he could before they felled him. Yet all he could do was sit and stare at the elf under the cloak. She had shifted in her sleep- yes she, as he could now see it was the elf from before. Her face was slack, eyes flickering behind her eyelids occasionally. Fair features were lined with exhaustion. There was something very vulnerable about watching a person sleep. Vox shook his head, shaking the thought from his mind. No, she was not a person. She was an enemy. She was an elf. His heart hardened, full of hate.

A pair of guards stood at the tent entrance, ever present, ever vigilant. Voices came and went as elves passed by the tent. He caught snippets of conversation, mostly muffled. He swore he caught the voice of the male elf as well, though he couldn't make out what he was saying. Time passed. An elf, young by the sound of his voice, replaced one of the guards relieving him from duty. He was silent for a while, until in a quiet voice he muttered to his older companion. An elf would probably not have picked up the quiet sound, yet Vox's ears perked at the low voices.

"It it true what they are saying?" The younger elf said. The older elf shot him an annoyed glance before turning their gaze back to their surroundings.
"You're on duty, private. Keep your your mind sharp" The voice was female, and firm. The younger elf was subdued by the harsh remark. Yet for the next five minutes, he shifted from leg to leg, jitterish. Vox wondered how old the soldier actually was.The female elf sighed.
"Well, spit it out then" The young elf perked up at her reply.
"Have we captured The Berserker?" his voice was filled with excitement. Vox's eyebrow lifted at the term. The female elf didn't reply for a little while, considering her answer carefully.
"Yes, I think so. Captain Ivorel brought him in in a shadow void. The whole barracks is abuzz with it."
"A shadow void?" the young voice piqued. The female elf gave a shiver.
"I saw the shadows myself. They were... unnatural. Something only fairy-tales and ancient history books talk about" The private was silent, listening.
"But what about the demon?"
"What about him?"
"What do you know about him?" The female elf shrugged, Vox barely saw the movement of her shoulders from his position.
"Strange tales of wild rage and showers of blood. Some say he is immortal."
"That can't be possible" The female elf shrugged again in reply.
"I had a friend who was stationed at the Devil's Walkway three winters ago. He wrote to me of the last attack before the snows set in and made fighting impossible. He said a devil prowled the dead land, a madness in his gait. He appeared in the night, cast in darkness and bathed in blood. He took many a wound from soldiers that attacked him. Yet they all fell to his axe as he laughed and laughed at them. No gash nor wound lasted for long on his flesh, healing as he mowed down our troops. He plucked arrows and daggers out of his flesh like they were harmless splinters. The men were completely spooked. They thought he was a ghost of vengeance at first. Until he re-appeared next spring after the snow melted. Only that time, he was backed up by an army of demons." The private swallowed, and cast a glance in the tent. His round face was pale as he caught sight of Vox. Vox's lips turned in a amused smile as his terrified eyes widened even more. He whipped his head around shoulders tense. The guards fell silent.

Vox remembered that winter well. It was the winter he had joined Omega's forces. His first winter away from the desert wastes of his homeland. His mood darkened.

A shuffling caught his eye. The elf stirred, cloak falling away. She gave him a brief glance before helping herself to some water. She looked more rested, but Vox could still see her sluggish movements as she poured a second glass. He narrowed his eyes slightly, curious at the change in her.

As she handed him the cup of water, he stared at it for a moment. He knew it wasn't poisoned, she had just drank from it. He considered rejecting the cup, perhaps spitting at her. He considered grabbing her wrist and hurting her, though she was ever so slightly out of reach. Instead, he accepted the cup. Better to seem cooperative now; let them lower their guard. Then, he would strike.

His throat was parched and the cool liquid revitalized him, even though it hurt to swallow. He coughed, sputtering some of the liquid on the packed earth. He downed the rest of the liquid, placing the cup by his bound feet. Vox's amber eyes bore into the elf's grey ones.

"I'm surprised you give water to a dead man." Vox said, his voice raspy from disuse as well as his new necklace of wounds. "Maybe you want a re-match, Ivorel?" he scoffed, provoking, using the name he picked up from the guards to unnerve her.

 

[Ririn]

She didn't move her eyes away from him as she offered the cup, seeing a myriad unspoken thoughts pass behind his eyes. It wasn't hard for her to assume he was trying to figure out if this was somehow a set up, thinking if he could attack her from where he was calculating the outcome of that action. Eventually, he reached over taking the cup and Ivorel didn't flinch. Instead, she let go of it slowly, showing she wasn't nervous or scared of him.

As he drunk the fresh water, Ivorel took one of the two chairs, placing it infront of him, exactly where she would be just out of his reach. Unable to hold back, she laughed as he coughed, spitting out water.
"It hurts, doesn't it? To drink or swallow after you've been choked?" She asked, sitting down with a smile, crossing her legs as once again she looked into his eyes. Such peculiar colour. Demon's eyes were always peculiar to her. In her own kind, the most weird colour one would find was purple, either a light one or a very dark one. But Demons? Their eyes spoke of who they were, where they came from. So did their horns and this one she presumed was mighty among his own. And his tattoos... She didn't know what they ment but she knew enough to know they were important. After all, Ivorel bore markings herself only they weren't viable under her clothes. Elves didn't go around walking with tattoos and symbols on their faces or uncovered body parts. They were sacred, meaningful to the one who had them kept hidden for only a few chosen ones to see. Sometimes, not even for them.

Hearing him speak made her smile grow wider. So he knew her name. Ever so slightly, her head moved to the left towards the entrance of the red tent, dreadlocks and free hair falling the movement.

"Guard!" Ivorel shouted making sure the two outside the tent would hear her. "Come, both of you." She ordered, never taking her eyes away from her prisoner, smile always across her lips even as the two soldiers entered, standing side by side, holding their spears on their sides.

"Captain!" The said in unison, bringing their index and middle finger to their heart, saluting her.
"Our guest here" she said speaking softly, waving her hand towards Vox "Knows my name. And last time I checked, his kind didn't posses powers that could acquire such knowledge so, either one of you two, or somebody before you thought that speaking about me just outside my tent was a good idea. Who was that soldiers?" She asked, her voice ever so smooth and calm. Was she trying to prove a point? Definitely. To who of the three others in her tent though, it was hard to tell right now as beneath her calmness it wasn't difficult to see she was cold as ice.

The soldiers shifted around nervously, staying silent. The male one, a bit more nervously but he was younger than the female, easier to get nervous before a higher officer.

"Will you really make me ask again soldiers?"
"We were both chatting Captain." The male said, gulping. "I started it, private El.."
"Hush." Ivorel stopped him, raising her fingers, slowly turning them at the female. "So, it was you. Right? The one who thought it wouldn't be a problem to talk about me, mention my name while there is a Demon in chains right here?"
The female, seeing no way around it nodded. "Yes Captain. Forgive me."

"Go on then. Tell our prisoner more." Ivorel said feeling highly amused of her little game.

The two guards were so puzzled they almost broke their stance and turned to look at each other. Almost!
"Captain, I don't understand." The female admitted, feeling restless now.
"I want you, to tell our prisoner, whatever you know about me. Come on, who doesn't gossip uh? Especially a higher officer. Go on, I won't bite. And neither will he." Ivorel said, laughing at her own silly joke, winking at Vox, like the two of them were in this together.

The guard just stood there, unable to wrap her mind around what was, the most weird order she had received in her army career thus far.
"Are you going to make us wait? That's not very kind. Go on, tell him what you know." Ivorel insisted and the guard finally decided to speak.

"The soldiers call you Lady of the Whip, because of your weapon." She begun saying getting a hand motion from Ivorel to go on. "You are one of the best tortures in the army and rumour is you can make anyone brake." She continued making Ivorel smile even wider as she monitored the Demon's reactions to what was being said. It couldn't be any better if she had planned it. She motioned again, for her to go on. "You were brought up in the army and you have powers bigger than most. Even the Elves fear you, even those in higher rankings. They also say you used to..." The guard stopped but Ivorel had her continue, really wanting to hear more details of the gossip that went around. "They say you used to be the King's lover. Or your trainer's. Or both of them." She concluded shaking like a leaf and finally Ivorel decided to stop tormenting her.

She clapped, like she had seen a very good play and crossed her legs again.
"Very good, very good. I love gossiping, especially when it's about me! Now off you go. I don't want to see you near my tent again. Send somebody else. Somebody that knows to stay fucking quiet in their post!" That last part was told in a much colder and stern voice, eyes momentarily going to the two that saluted her again, backing away faster than rats abadoned a sinking ship.

Now alone with the Demon again, she focused all her attention back at him.
"Well, now that we've got that out of our way... You are not a dead man, are you? And I promise you, you won't be a dead man for a long, very long time. Death is the finishing point wouldn't you agree? It's the journey towards it that matters." She smiled again, eyebrows arching as she licked her lips. "So, do you want some more water?" She asked like nothing was going on.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox observed the bizarre scene with a raised eyebrow, his face carefully neutral. The soldiers obviously regarded the elf with both awe and fear. She toyed with them like a cat would with a mouse, knowing she had the power to snuff them out with a snap of her jaws but enjoying their nervous fluttering. Her smile dripped with both ice and venom. She lounged in the chair, playful look on her face. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but he approved. It was hard to command absolute obedience in a large army. Fear would do the trick. He bet that the two soldiers would be too terrified to even speak of her name again soon, He wouldn't be surprised if many a soldier in this outpost would look at her differently from now on.

He sat back on his heels, using the little movement the chains allowed to rotate his wrists in the cuffs. The chains clinked against the metal frame again and he resisted the urge to pull them taught and try and rattle the frame. He pondered the soldier's words as she spoke. Lady of the whip; he understood that. Master torturer; no surprise there ether, given on how she enjoyed playing with her soldiers. Lover to the king; now that was interesting. The Bal'Narathu didn't fret over sex like other races did. When one was unmated, sex was freely given between willing participants, fun and harmless. Yet he knew the term 'lover' meant a lot more to elves than it did to his tribe. His lip curled slightly in amusement.

The soldiers left. Ivorel's storm grey eyes fell back on him. The threat that followed amused him further. He almost laughed. She had no idea how much he agreed with her statement.
"Indeed we all die one day. All one can hope for is a glorious death. But do your worst, elf" He spat out the name of her race like a curse, to be despised. "Your people have already hurt me more than you could ever do with any kind of torture." and with that his eyes filled with scalding hate and fury, seeming to glow with golden intensity. His head was lowered, presenting horns, a threatening gesture.

 

[Ririn]

Ivorel couldn't help but find his ways amusing. Everything about him drew her in. The untamed shine in his golden eyes, the way he spoke certain words as if he could hurt or provoke her with them. His body language, even now that he was in chains showed extreme strength, too much faith in himself. It was almost erotic to her, to be faced with such an opponent. One than even on his knees, presented his horns like he was inviting her for a battle.

Ivorel stood up, looking down at him as she unclasped her cape, living it on the chair behind her and took a step forward, where he could, theoretically, get to her if he really tried and painfully stretched his own hands to do so.

"My people have already hurted you more than I could ever do. What a big statement that is. But tell me, how have my people hurted you?" She asked, still speaking softly, raising an eyebrow almost in honest wonder about his answer, her face a mask of friendly care.

Outside, two new guards came to stand at the entrance of the tent, staying silent and utterly still in their positions.
Good little soldiers, Ivorel thought to herself. Teach one of the sheep and the whole herd will follow!

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox noticed her change in demeanor as she neared him. Close enough to be in his range. Close enough for him to wrap his hands around her slender neck. Close enough for him to wipe that sneer of her face. She was baiting him, like a child playing with a trapped insect as if saying ' Look how easy it would be to sting me, why don't you try it? Why don't you just try and sting me and die trying?'

He didn't take the bait. Not yet anyway. He would wait for his chance. Let her taunt him, he would strike when she least expected it.

His eyes flashed dangerously at her question, not buying her sincere act. His upper lip was fully curled now, long canines glinting in the dim tent interior.
"Cut the innocent act. You're full of shit. If you're a Captain, you know exactly the decimation your armies have wrought on my race."