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The Elf and the Warrior 1-14

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  • #16
    Re: The Elf and the Warrior 1-9

    “There, those look like good targets for rebel elves,” Whizess whispered to her companion.

    “Well, I’m not attacking them,” came the churlish reply from the healer. “We’ve already attacked five innocent merchants, a farmer and three passing minstrels. It’s lucky we haven’t killed anyone yet.”

    “Well it would help if you stopped helping them after I’ve shot them,” the mage retorted. “I’m no archer and this lousy bow,” she waved a fancy looking recurved bow,” doesn’t do anywhere near enough damage.”

    “We’re supposed to pretend to attack innocent people, not actually kill them,” the elf responded angrily.

    “And we’re really going to convince the rebels if we don’t behave like them and kill someone – painfully?”

    “Like you killed those goats?”

    “Yes, that was fun …”

    “And the dogs?”

    “I hate dogs …”

    “And the:-”

    “Pssst!”

    “What?” asked the healer puzzled.

    “I didn’t say anything.”

    “Well someone said:-“

    “Pssst!”

    The elf healer and the human mage, now looking like an elven archer dressed in the same short purple outfit stopped, aware that they were no longer alone.

    “Over here,” a hoarse voice whispered.

    The companions turned to a large rock at the side of the path on which they stood and approached it.

    “Who are you?” asked the mage readying her bow.

    “I am Rice, a Captain in the Winged Elf Rebellion,” came the reply. “We have heard reports about you …”

    “Really?”

    “Yeah. Two cheap sluts slaughtering animals and giving the humans a hard time:-“

    “We’re not cheap!” the mage retorted.

    “Coulda fooled me,” Rice responded.

    While they were talking the mage and the elf healer circle the rock the mage taking the left side and her companion the right.

    “So have you come to recruit us?” the mage demanded as she circled the rock, to find herself face to face with her companion.

    “Kinda. I need to know that you’re not spies sent by the Council to infiltrate our movement. We’ve been having a problem with spies lately. It sometimes seems like everyone knows what we’re up to before we do it.”

    “Well you’re not helping yourselves,” the mage retorted. “Those notices you’re pinned up on the trees are a bit of a giveaway!”

    “What do you mean?”

    The mage pulled a piece of parchment out of her pack, and waved it in the air before reading from it.

    “ ‘Bored with the constant grind? Fed up with your life? Feel you’re not making any progress? Come and join the Rebellion,’” the mage began reading the poster, and continued:

    “’We offer an interesting and challenging time. Tomorrow we will kidnap the Lady Yoko. Come and join us half a league South East of Dragon City at noon!’

    “How stupid can you get?”

    “Oh that,” came the sheepish reply, now clearly coming from behind a bush a few paces from the rock. “It seemed a good idea at the time, and we did get a few new supporters …”

    “And how many hundreds of people turned up to stop you?”

    “Yeah there was that, I suppose.”

    “You moron,” the mage spat out with her usual tact.

    “Slut,” came the considered response.

    “Bonehead.”

    “Harlot.”

    “Er, could we leave the insults until later,” the elf healer interrupted.

    “No!” came the response from both adversaries.

    “Dimwit!”

    “It’s just that:-“

    “Strumpet!”

    “There’s a large party of soldiers:-”

    “Cretin!”

    “ … comng up the path.”

    “Hussy … oh b*gger, so there is. Quick this way.”

    Forgetting their differences the two elves and human slipped away down an almost invisible track, and soon were into the dense undergrowth out of sight of the soldiers who marched along the main path.

    * * * * * * * * * * * *

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    • #17
      Re: The Elf and the Warrior 1-9

      The arrival of the party of the mystically enhanced adventurers completely changed the balance of the battle.

      Soon Bardin and the blademaster realised they were no longer on the losing side. Several times the warrior took incredible amounts of damage, but the airborne elven healer always managed to cast some healing spell on him in time to allow the human to fight on without pause.

      Even so, Bardin noticed, the warrior winced in pain on several occasions when the healing spell struck. Perhaps it was not so easy being a hero after all he reflected.

      After what seemed an incredibly short period of time it was clear the monsters were beaten. Repulsive green corpses lay on the ground, many of them decomposing with that unnatural speed of that seemed to curse the creatures of the dark gods.

      Even as an arrow burned into a creature that was trying to attack Bardin the soldier realised the fight was over. Now the dead and dying were not just the members of the caravan but the foul vermin that had attacked them.

      The tiger, weir beast who it appeared was leading the rescue party, barked out a few orders. The venomancers sent their own creatures to the periphery of the camp, presumably to guard against any return from the enemy, while the elf healer dropped to the ground furling her wings away. A few moments later she was tending to the wounded survivors of the merchant’s party.

      Verace was alive and a surprisingly high number of the party were alive, if very badly wounded. The elf did not cast spells on them as she did with those blessed by the gods, but administered healing potions and bandaged wounds. Simple mundane help the solider noted. She had been well trained.

      “How goes it Charlock?” the tiger asked after a long while.

      “I have helped those I can, and the rest have been buried,” by their comrades the elf replied sombrely. “It would have helped if we had brought another healer.”

      “Yes, but Clarwen is on another mission,” the leader replied, mentioning another elf, “and we haven’t heard from InfoLost for a few days.“

      Bardin had no interest in their conversation or their business.

      “You did well lad,” he informed the young Jerrins.

      “But, but I ran. I was so scared.”

      “Aye you ran – to get help, and you came back,” the older soldier replied. “I had faith in you lad, and while I knew you were alive I had hope.”

      He looked around him.

      “It’s surprising how far hope can take you when common sense tells you all is lost.”

      At that moment they were joined by the blademaster, who held out his hand to the older soldier.

      “I may be joining this group,” he said waving a hand at the group that had come to their rescue.

      “I suppose you’ll be wanting this,” the soldier said holding out the sword the blademaster had given him.

      “Keep it. That way I’ll know it’s in good hands,” the warrior replied. “It’s been an honour to fight at your side,” he finished shaking the soldier’s hand.

      Comment


      • #18
        Re: The Elf and the Warrior 1-11

        “Here, this is one of our camps,” Rice informed the two companions he had escorted to a clearing at the foot of a hill.

        In front of them was a cave entrance. Whizess stared at the entrance noting that it was easily wide enough for three riders to enter at a time and more than high enough for them to do so.

        Although no guards were visible the mage noted movements in the long grass. As the breeze took the grass in one direction several patches either remained unmoved or even drifted the opposite way. She estimated five elves at least keeping watch over the entrance.

        Walking ahead of them Rice made a strange gesture with his right hand, no doubt a signal to the unseen watchers, then led the way into the cave entrance.

        As a mage Whizess was particularly attuned to the forces of magic, and felt the subtle influence of a sorcerous spell as they entered the cave. This was not like any enchantment she was familiar with. As a wizard she could call upon the power of the elements to generate forceful blasts of magic to direct against an enemy. What she felt in the cave although sourcerous was not the magic she was familiar with. Not even those servants of the dark gods she had fought against used enchantments like this. The whole place felt subtly wrong. This was witchery which simply did not belong.

        Her two companions seemed unaware of the mystical influences at work, which was not too surprising. Although both were able to tap into the rivers of mystical forces flowing around the world few were as attuned to the supernatural powers as mages.

        Soon they found themselves in a cavern. Eerie yellow light flowed from orbs in the walls. The cavern itself was occupied by a number of elves some sat on benches while they listened to another elf address them, others working at tables. Some were writing out what appeared to be notices to put onto trees. The mage noticed that around the cavern were what appeared to be merchants, blacksmiths, jewellers, tailors and pharmacists. All the facilities for an army of those able to use the forces of magic to be armed and equipped for battle were available here.

        Comment


        • #19
          Re: The Elf and the Warrior 1-11

          “New recruits Rice, well done!” the elf commander snapped.

          He seemed incapable of actually speaking in a normal voice. Tall and, for an elf, powerfully built he looked more human than elf, even to the huge sword he carried and the red armour he wore.

          “It is good timing,” he continued as if barking out an order. “The Leader is going to address the faithful soon.”

          He looked at the two females, his gaze lingering over the body of the mage, as if inspecting her closely.

          “If you are worthy to support the cause you will be well rewarded,” he instructed.

          Whizess wished shoe were wearing a longer skirt, or top, or even a long thick coat. She did not like this elf’s gaze, nor the sense of power that exuded from him. By any standards he was no normal elf.

          “If not,” the commander finished. “you will feel the anger of the righteous elves.”

          A few moments later the two females found themselves sat on benches as a large congregation of elves sat waiting the arrival of their leader. Several elves addressed the crowd of some two hundred, extolling the virtues of elf kind and denouncing humans fro their cruelty and oppression of the elven race.

          After one female elf left the crudely erected wooden stage silence fell on the audience. Whizess could feel something in the air. This was more than an atmosphere generated by the crowd, it was almost physical a form of enchantment unlike any she had encountered in the normal world. It seemed to be affecting the crowd, stilling them to silence. As she looked around her she saw elves sat staring at the empty stage as if transfixed.

          Eventually a short figure walked onto the stage. His skin the colour of coal his hair a strange changing hue as if it couldn’t decide which colour to be. The mage realised that she cold feel his presence like a physical intrusion into her brain. She felt words coming into her mind, praising the justice the wisdom the prowess of this super elf. With an effort she blocked the messages. Her mind was her own and no-one was going to take it over.

          Suddenly she realised that the figure had been speaking.

          “ …. Must take back the land that is rightfully ours and put the humans to the sword …”

          He really was insane! She turned to her elf companion, who was staring blankly at the speaker on the stage.

          “He’s a nutcase,” Whizzess whispered.

          “No, he’s making sense,” the elf replied. “I can see it now …”

          “… even tried to sacrifice one of our people to their vile god Pan Gu! They chained a pure innocent elf maiden to a stake ..”

          Roars of anger from the crowd, with one voice muttering:

          “She’s not that pure …”

          “… and burnt her alive!”

          Hmm that wasn’t right.

          “… but the forces of the Rancor pulled her from the flames and sent her spirit to walk amongst us …”

          That didn’t make sense.

          “In her name we will take a human high born and put her to the sword in front of the servants of the dead god!”

          More roars of approval.

          The demeanour of the speaker changed. A look of surprise crossed his face.

          “Brothers, sisters,” he bellowed. “I sense there is a non believer ion our midst. A spy.”

          “Uh oh,” Whizess turned to InfoLost who seemed completely under the spell of the orator.

          “Yes,” the elf muttered there is a spy amongst us.

          Whizess smashed the pommel of her dagger into the back of the elf’s head.

          “Here she is!” she cried out. “The spy! She was about to betray our leader.”

          Not much of an accusation, but the best she could think of in the circumstances.

          Heads turned round to look in her direction. For a moment the blank expressions changed. Some looked puzzled, others angry. Even as she looked at them a movement at the edge of her vision caught the attention of the mage.

          Two figures dressed in long black cloaks, one definitely and elf the other human?

          Whizess instinctively knew these were the source of the enchantments that she had been aware of. They were the ones controlling these elves not the Lord Kalin.

          She wasn’t sure if they were aware of her or not, and somehow she had to keep the distraction alive.

          “Quickly take her and hang her – show the world how we treat spies!” she bellowed, showing a less than loyal approach to her unconscious companion.

          A few elves took up the cry: some calling for the spy to be hung, others favouring knouting, disembowelling or other humane methods of relieving their suffering.

          Suddenly the crowd around the mage fell silent. An avenue appeared as elves parted to allow the Lord Kalin to stride through.

          Soon he was standing over the fallen healer. A look of recognition fleeted briefly across his face.

          “Don’t kill her,” he said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

          For a moment there was silence, then the dark elf’s features took on a more sinister expression. Whizess could feel the power of magic flowing through the air. It was like watching a puppet with its strings being pulled she decided.

          “Yes! No!” the elf leader bellowed. “Take her for questioning. Do not kill her ….. yet.”

          Each word seemed to be dragged from his lips as if some internal battle was being fought.

          Even as she recognised that the mage realised that an interrogation of her companion was not in her interests. Somehow she had to kill her before she talked and exposed another spy!

          Comment


          • #20
            Re: The Elf and the Warrior 1-11

            “Do you have any idea how many people are looking for Kalin?” asked the elf healer.

            “Probably a lot by now,” Hunter replied. “The Grand Masters have raised the bounty on his head. Every adventurer, mercenary and champion will be looking for him. The guild houses have organised groups to search for him. His days are numbered.”

            The weir beast and healer stood at the shore of a large lake. The deep blue water concealed dangerous threats to any who ventured into its vicinity.

            The loss of a number of local fisherman had cause the weir beast and his party to pause in their search for the leader of the elf rebellion, and instead cleanse the lake of its unholy influences.

            Shrill laughter cut through the air. Another undine had spotted the group, and was readying to attack the weir beast. He stood perfectly still for a second allowing the first spell from the wretched creature to strike him. His phenomenal constitution was sufficient to allow him to absorb the damage without sustaining any harm. Now that the creature’s attention was focused on him he moved toward it, casting his own sorcery to rile the thing to unreasoning anger. Within moments it was so incensed it could only think about one thing – the creature that stood before it now in the form of a white four legged tiger, constantly growling, snapping biting.

            A few seconds later the creature lay dead. An elven archer, crossbow slung casually over her shoulder, examining the corpse.

            “Don’t put up much of a fight do they?” she complained as she retrieved a few coins the pathetic creature had dropped.

            “I doubt many things could put up much of a fight against your bolts, Celeste,” the tiger replied, now changed back to its bipedal form. “Besides these things are more victims than offenders. The local village elder believes the water has been poisoned to drive them crazy.”

            “That seems to be true,” replied another voice. “I have listened to the singing of mermaids many times. It has not been like this before: these are singing the songs of those in terrible anguish and pain.”

            “Yes, you would know Bard,” the weir beast responded. The elf, a healer was also a passionate bard bringing songs and poetry to all who would listen. Hunter found it comforting that in a world of so much violence a chosen warrior could also embrace such a path.

            “Then let’s end their suffering,” Celeste responded.

            “Just try not to enjoy it too much!” Hunter asked of her.

            Sometimes it was too easy for champions to become infatuated with the slaughter of the enemies of the innocent. All too easily they came to enjoy killing just for the sake of killing. The next stage was to face the stiffer challenge of killing other heroes. Duelling in the cities failed to satisfy the blood lust, and only the death of another champion would do. Such pleasure killings easily got out of hand and the offenders had to be hunted down and despatched, something the weir beast had been forced to do far too often.

            He hoped he would never have to deal with the elven archer in this way.

            “Over there. Looks like a ‘boss’!” a human warrior broke in.

            Hunter looked. Rising out of the water and surrounded by five of the mermaid creatures floated a far more sinister looking undine. Before he could respond it threw a spell at the group. The warrior fell completely the colour drained from his face.

            The weir beast had to act quickly.

            “Charlock, heal Ironfist, then keep me alive! Celeste get out of its range and kill its guards!” he bellowed then changing into his quadruped form he rushed for the mermaid.

            Snarling , biting dodging and rushing around the creature the weir beast got its attention. So confused did it become that it failed to cast its next spell in time to kill the fallen human.

            Whilst their leader was engaging the boss the elf loosed bolt after bolt into the mermaids guarding their own leader. Mystically enhanced the bolts burnt their way through the soft flesh of the water creatures. But fire was not the only skill at the archer’s disposal, and soon the fell creatures were barraged by bolts that used earth and metal elemental skills to send them to their deaths.

            The healer managed to cast a sufficiently strong spell to keep the human from the arms of the grim reaper. He sat up with a shock and was violently sick.

            “Thanks,” he managed as he staggered to his feet.

            “You’re welcome, came the reply as the elf turned her attention to the white tiger.

            A bellow at her side indicated the warrior was going into action. He raced to join the tiger and another bellow froze the mermaid boss for a vital few seconds. For the mermaid it was a fatal delay. The archer found her range and slammed arrows into its unprotected flesh. The weir beast changed form and wielding two huge axes battered her unmercifully. The warrior got his own revenge, using a huge axe he delivered the final fatal blow.

            With a final scream the creature surrendered its hold on life.

            “Well that’s put it out of our misery,” the archer stated brightly.

            “Look, over there!” the healer shouted to the rest of the party.

            Hiding behind a bush was another elf – an archer. Hovering on the air to cast her spells of healing the bard had seen him and sensed the surrounding aura of dark magic.

            “I want him alive!” Hunter bellowed as the archer set an arrow to her bow.

            Comment


            • #21
              Re: The Elf and the Warrior 1-12

              The mage stalked the narrow tunnels of the cavern some of which were in almost total darkness. She bypassed a few guards sat or stood around what looked like cells hewn out of the solid rock. Thin bars served to keep whatever prisoners were held within. There were also what appeared to be rooms with meal doors that served to hide whatever was happening within. The occasional agonising scream cutting through the darkness suggested that elven torturers were busy.

              Whizess did not want her erstwhile companion to suffer that fate. Who knew what she would say. At last she made out two figures coming toward her: they looked suspiciously like two of the elves that had dragged the healer off to be tortured. Quickly she squeezed herself into a narrow alcove at the side of the tunnel. In the darkness the elves didn’t notice her as they walked past grumbling to each other about missing all the fun.

              Once they were safely past the mage slipped out of hiding and followed the route the two had come down. Eventually she came to another metal door. She put her ear to it.

              Muffled sounds came from within.

              “Hand me the thumb screws,” an authoritative voice commanded.

              “Erm sorry, no thumb screws ...”

              “What?”

              “Old Ernie, the jeweller he found the thumbscrews make nice little vices. Really good for working on rings and jewellery and stuff... “

              “He did what?”


              “Reckons he can make a really awesome amulet now and you should see his:-“

              “Enough! I don’t wish to listen to your ramblings. Hand me the pokers, we will see how hot pokers loosen the tongue ...”

              “Sorry, can’t”

              “What!”

              “The lads have been using them to roast chickens and grouse over the fire on an evening,” the other voice responded. “Well after a while on the run you get to enjoy a bit of cooked meat ...”

              “The whip then?” the authoritative one was beginning to sound a little resigned.

              “Yes, er, Clarina borrowed the whips last week. You know I’m a bit worried about her. Between you and me she’s a bit too popular with the lads, if you know what I mean...”

              By now Whizess had managed to open the door slightly and slip into the room.

              The two figures conversing were much as she had expected: a large dark clad figure was undoubtedly the torturer. His face was completely covered by a black hood.

              The other figure was a small winged elf who looked remarkably like Rice the archer who had guided her to this hideout.

              They were far too intent on their own discussion to notice another “elf” in the chamber.

              “Bring me the Pear of Anguish” the dark robed figure commanded, trying to regain his position of authority.

              “Pair? Pair of what?” came the puzzled reply.

              “Its a metal device shaped like a long pear with a screw at one end. Turn the screw and the leaves of the pear open, exposing sharp blades that rend rip and tear causing exquisite pain and eventual death...”

              “Don’t sound so painful to me ....”

              “Yes but first it is inserted into an orifice of the victim. We normally use it on a certain kind of person”

              “Orifice, what orifice?”

              The torturer told him.

              “Oooh!” came the response.

              The smaller elf shot upright this legs suddenly clamped together.

              “Well!”

              “Ah, me and the lads though it was a nutcracker,” the smaller elf replied. “It works all right with walnuts but with some of the bigger ones.”

              “Bring it!”

              As the elf began to mince toward the door the dark robed elf bellowed after him.

              “And hurry, curse you!”

              “It’s hard to hurry,” came the plaintive response, “when your buttocks don’t want to say goodbye to each other.”

              And with that he tottered out of the door, muttering about injustices to 'certain kinds of people'.

              Comment


              • #22
                Re: The Elf and the Warrior 1-12

                “Well, where are they?” the warrior asked.

                “Do you really think I would betray my companions, my comrades in arms, those I have fought with, eaten with and slept with these long months for a few pieces of gold,” the elf spat back.

                “Thirty thousand in gold, and this bow I recovered from:-”

                “Down that path to the east, you come to a fork, go south for half a league and you come to a large tree, follow the small path next to it for about two hundred paces and you’ll come to a clearing. That is a really nice bow,” the elf replied his eyes fixed on the weapon.

                Comment


                • #23
                  Re: The Elf and the Warrior 1-14

                  The mage pulled the long blade from her pack. She rarely used knives preferring the power of her magic to destroy enemies before they could get close enough for any physical combat, but in the close confines of this chamber she would be unable to cast any spell quickly enough to kill the torturer. Besides if she used the knife she could also kill the healer put the knife into her dead hand and make the killing look like an escape attempt.

                  “Is that someone in the sha:-“ the dark robed figure began.

                  Whizess stepped forward and lunged the dagger into what she hoped was his heart.

                  “… dow? Aarggh!”

                  The figure dropped to the ground. Whizess pulled the knife back and struck the fallen figure again.

                  Gods that felt good, she thought. Never before had she used a blade in this way. It was exhilarating: the feeling of power was incredible. As a mage she had killed often, but almost always at a safe distance, there was had never been that closeness to the target being killed. This, this looking into the eyes of the victim and watching the life disappear was incredible. She pulled the hood off the man to look at who she had killed. He was thickset but unfamiliar.

                  She realized she was trembling, but not from fear but excitement and anticipation. She had killed a man – the first human she had ever killed – now it was time to kill an elf, another first.

                  A human! That was wrong: he should have been an elf. For a moment the mage wondered about that, then she thought back to the shadowy figures she had seen in the main chamber. There was more going on than a mere rebellion of a few discontented elves.

                  But that was something to resolve later, now she had more immediate concerns.

                  Stepping over to where her companion lay strapped to a crude metal table she checked the elf. She was still unconscious and her breathing was uneven. Her skin had an unhealthy pallor and even to the mage’s untrained eye it was clear she was dying. She had struck her much harder than she realised.

                  Oh well, she had come here to make sure the elf wouldn’t talk: might as well finish the job.

                  Gripping the knife in both hands she turned it blade down then prepared to plunge it into the elf’s chest.

                  A sound from the passage caused her to pause. Someone was walking toward the chamber – a heavy tread: someone wearing armour?

                  She moved to the wall alongside the door and pressed herself against it. There was nowhere to hide in the dim chamber but she could hope not to be spotted before she got the first attack in.

                  The door opened and a human stepped in. Dressed in full plate armour he was clearly one of the champions favoured by the gods. To the mage he looked vaguely familiar although in the dim light it was hard to be certain.

                  He spotted her before she could strike.

                  “Prepare to die, elf traitor!” he challenged.

                  “I’m no elf the,” mage responded indignantly.

                  For a moment he hesitated.

                  “Do you think to fool me with such an obvious lie,” he mocked raising a large glowing sword to her chest.

                  “Watch where you point that thing! And yes I’m no elf, I’m a human a mage. Whizess of the house of Warnock. If I am to die I will die as a human mage not some snivelling cowardly elf scum.”

                  “You certainly don’t sound like an elf, but those .... are they false?”

                  His left had shot out and grabbed one of the unfortunate mage’s winglets.

                  “Owww!” she screamed as the man almost wrenched it from her head. “They’re real, in a way, that stupid trasnfigurater, on whatever he’s called grafted them onto me. And don’t you dare grab hold of anything else you think might be false!” she finished angrily.

                  “Well you do seem well endowed for an elf,” he replied forcing his eyes back up to her face. “But that sort of transfiguration is forbidden. I believe the penalty is death.”
                  “Good, I’ll enjoy seeing that cursed elf die,” the mage stated, “and speaking of elves and dying I
                  have some unfinished work.”

                  She stole past the warrior’s blade and once more raised her knife to strike the prone form of her erstwhile companion.

                  “What are you doing?” the warrior demanded.

                  “Oh, don’t worry, she’s one of the traitors, I’m just making sure she gets her just punishment.”

                  It looks to me like she’s going to die anyway,” he suggested, catching the mage’s wrists one handed as she tried to slam the blade into the elf’s chest.

                  She pressed down on the knife, but the warrior was simply too strong. The knife hovered invitingly two handspans above the elf’s chest.

                  This close she could make out the warrior’s features, his brown hair and beard were familiar, and she knew where they had met before. He and the elf had history.

                  “Perhaps if we loosen these straps ...”

                  “No need,” she said flatly “I can get the killing stroke in with them there.”

                  Still holding her wrist with one hand he loosened the straps that held the elf down.

                  “You know, I’ve seen her before,” he muttered, sounding a little puzzled.

                  “You’ve done more than see her!” the mage responded, still pushing down on the knife.

                  “Why yes we have been ... intimate,” he breathed, shocked.

                  “That’s one way of putting it. Could you move your hand please?”

                  “Oh dear, poor Amelia,” he all but sobbed. “You’re the only maiden I have ever loved.”

                  “She’s not Amelia.”

                  “Oh, I mean Binini .. “

                  “Not Binini either.”

                  “Erm Charlotta ...”

                  “Have you been going through the whole damn alphabet of elves!” the mage demanded genuinely shocked.

                  At that moment the elf arched her back and with her eyes still closed issued a muffled cry. For a second a blow surrounded her body then she slumped back onto the table.

                  The two humans stared at her. Nothing else happened.

                  “If you could just move her hand, please, I will put her out of your misery,” the mage asked again.

                  The elf spasmed again, and again the glow surrounded her for a brief instant.

                  “Damn,” the mage swore. “She’s healing herself. She must be able to do that when she’s unconscious.”

                  “And doesn’t have straps restraining her movement,” the warrior concluded.

                  “Well, still time to kill her,” the mage pleaded. “It won’t take a second.”

                  “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were looking forward to killing a helpless elf who has done you no harm,” he shot back.

                  “And your point?”

                  Comment


                  • #24
                    Re: The Elf and the Warrior 1-14

                    that kind of blade is very sharp and its good looking,
                    i want one of that blade.pm me for faster transaction.

                    Comment


                    • #25
                      Re: The Elf and the Warrior 1-14

                      ....Lol whut?

                      Comment


                      • #26
                        Re: The Elf and the Warrior 1-14

                        The last post of that was 15th May 2009, you really went digging to dig that back up. I admire your resolve to read old stories, and it was a good story, but you must be all covered in cyber-dust from finding the pages of that story :) :lol:

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