Drop by drop, the rain washed off the remaining blood on his face. Water reaching through the torn cloth was cold, he felt it like small insects biting every bit of his wounds. Slowly, his senses came back to him like waves of pain running through the veins. The smell of trolls made his blood boil and he quickly reached for his dagger. A blink of time later he had his hand on the holster. Then he realized how lucky he was the troll closest to him wasn't paying attention. The holster was empty.
"Burn them all mon, they be no use dead!" said the warrior, slowly sliding his sword from a corpse.
Sniffing the air, ignoring the greenskined warrior, the shaman whispers
"But not all of them be dead yet. Tha priestess want to catch one alive, mon. That one be around here somewhere, don't let off ya guard! Don't be stupid mon!"
"What would a skinny blood elf be able to do mon? The goblin black powdah must have turned their bones to ashes."They kept looking around for something. Or someone. While the warrior swings his leg, hitting the fallen elves, the shaman whispered something and gave life to the fire on top of one of his totems. A weird smell filled the air as the plate boot resonated through the woods. And again, and again.
Lying half covered under the remains of a cart with his holster empty, the blood elf fainted. Soon, a silhouette made it's way through the trees, floating in mid air and untouched by the rain. The warrior kicked the wheel of the cart, without noticing the priestess approaching.
"Mon, where ya be? Ovah here mon!" shouted the shaman. The warrior stepped on the remains of the cart and jumped towards the shaman. A piece of wood shattered it's way through the leg of the blood elf beneath it, waking him with another wave of pain.
With eyes wide open, screaming on the inside, he could see three silhouettes washed by the rain. The one floating got bigger, as his vision narrowed slowly..
A voice inside his head shouted
"the dagger kid, get the dagger!"He woke up, tied to a tree. His wounds were healed, there were just torn clothes stained with blood covering him. Raising his head, he was staring right in the shaman's face. A large smile, long tusks and cold eyes made him shiver.
"Hey there skinny, ya be awake? Soon tha priestess will be searchin` yer mind, hwahaha!"The elf struggled for a moment, only to realize he'd been tied real tight to the tree.
"Don't be tryin` nothing, elf!" the warrior said, slowly swinging his sword,
"the priestess need ya alive."The senses came back once more, all that felt like a dream vanished like clouds. There were ashes all around, only bits of armor were pointing out. Calmly, the blood elf looked around, weighting the scene. They were all dead, no sign of anyone beside him and the two trolls. Somewhere near had to be the priestess.
As the two trolls kept staring at him, the air was getting hard to breathe and the dark silhouette of a troll female made it's way through. The rain stopped and light began to flow around the branches, early morning air refreshed the blodelf and wind blew his hair, covering his eyes. As the priestess began to cast a spell, the two trolls made two steps back, grinning at him. The elf let himself caught by the spell and the priestess slowly started to levitate. Her eyes turned white as she was searching through his head, channeling the spell. The priestess managed to browse through his memories like pages in a book. Every page that was turning fed waves of pain down his spine, his nails cut through the palm of his hand as he was trying hopelessly to get out of the ropes.
Page by page, the agony grew to the point he couldn't feel his body. Then, the words of Zelanis echoed inside his head:
"Be one with the shadows."and the ropes glided towards the roots of the tree, as if they had nothing to keep tight. The shaman pulled one of his totems and began to whisper incantations, the warrior roared and pulled his blade as the priestess felt to the floor, drained of mana.
"Where be tha elf? Find him NOW!"Swinging his mighty blade through the air, carelessly, the warrior roared. Stepping out of the shadows, the rogue pushed the shaman towards the swinging blade. Holding the shaman's head by the hair, he watched the shaman's body dropping with a blank sound to the ground. Quickly he turned towards the priestess, sprinting from the ground up on the shaman and jumping from the warriors shoulder. Her cold eyes died as the tusks went through her heart. A moment later, the warrior's blade missed his shoulder. He took the priestess's dagger and stepped through the shadows once more. Carefully, he stalked the warrior and stabbed him with the rusty dagger just deep enough to reach the kidneys.
Moments later, the elf was running through the forest. When he was far enough, so the warrior couldn't see him, he embraced the safety of the shadows. Holding the rusty, bloody dagger, trembling from head to toe, he was safe. He was alive.