The vengeful shadow
The beginning
Now was the time. She was about to give birth to their child. Ekeroth and his beloved wife were in a Dark elven slave camp. They had been captured only 2 months ago and put here. He was the heir to the rulership of the kougans, and the only son in the family. They were attacked while hunting with 4 other kougans, and the dark elves had slaughtered the others. Since then Ekeroth and his wife, Aiilo, had been slaves. They were forced to work hard in the mines, suffering under the whip. It was a bit of a miracle that Aiilo had not lost the child, but as all kougans, she was tough, and apparently their child was as well. They were living in a small cell along with one other slave, an old woman. Aiilo’s scream brought him back from his thoughts. They were lucky that she was giving birth in the night. Otherwise the dark elves would certainly be there to cause even more pain. Ekeroth looked at his wife. Despite all she had been through her beauty had lasted. Despite the dust from the mines in her hair and on her ragged and worn clothes, she still looked wonderful. Her golden hair was spread out on the floor where she lay. Her face was still as beautiful as the day they met, the blue eyes were especially hypnotizing to behold. Ekeroth himself was high and muscular, even for a kougan, even for a Shadowfury. His skin was darker than usual for an elf, but still not as dark as the human’s got in the end of the summer. His hair was black, about the length of a dagger. His eyes were dark brown. His body, especially his arms, was dotted by scars from countless skirmishes. Aiilo screamed again, and a shaking went through her. At the same time, the old human woman stood up with a small elf in her arms. The old woman gave the elf child, the son of Ekeroth and Aiilo shadowfury, to Aiilo. Aiilo’s happiness with her child was obvious, shown clearly by her smile, and the gleam in her eyes, she was tired but happy. Ekeroth was happy too, but he was also worried about the child, for what upbringing would it get. Either it would be condemned to a life as a slave, or it would be taken away from them to be raised by a dark elven family, in order to turn him to the darkness. They had a mean to protect him from being turned to darkness, even if he was taken away.
“What are you going to name him?”
The old woman asked.
“Dragor Shadowfury”
Ekeroth replied. Everything was silent for a time, except for the sound of a feeding baby. Suddenly Aiilo spoke, with a worried voice
“We need to prepare for giving the soulward blessing. We’ll need to be done before the slavers come to take us to the mines.”
Little Dragor was walking alongside his mother towards the mines, the sun had barely risen. He had just learned to walk properly. He had not been taken away from the beginning, but was instead brought up by his real parents until now. On their way to the mines, a high ranking dark elf officer and his 2 bodyguards approached them. They were all clad in daily clothing, but carrying their weapons. One of the bodyguards walked directly up to Ekeroth and punched him in the stomach. The officer took a hold in Dragor’s arm and pulled him from his parents. The other bodyguard pushed Aiilo up against the cliffs, tore her skirt apart and tried to rape her. Ekeroth got up and grabbed the first bodyguard’s blade. He stabbed the one, who was trying to rape his wife, in the back, then turned around and cut the throat of the other one. Blood splashed on the cliffs, and onto the face and torso of Ekeroth, making him a scary sight indeed, an elf, but muscular for his race, covered in blood, with a blade of blackened steel in his hand and an intense wrath and hatred in his eyes. The dark elf officer pulled forth a crossbow and took aim at Ekeroth. He ran at the officer, sword raised to strike, but the officer bulled out a blade from his sleeve, and stabbed Ekeroth in the eye. All the while Dragor had been standing still, too terrified to move.
Escaping
Now was the time. Dragor was sneaking through the darkness towards the bedroom of his former master. Since the day his father was murdered, he had lived in a dark elf family. They had named him Natesh Poisonarrow. He had pretended to be similar in thought to a dark elf, but the sight of his father’s murder had burned itself to his mind. That he could never forget. He had been picked for military service, fighting the greenskin in the Shadowspine Mountains. He had done well, and eventually he was picked to join the ranks of the shades, the most feared assassins in the world. There he had trained for 30 years, and now he was done. He knew how to fade into the darkness, and where to strike to cause the most harm. He had learned create and recognize poisons, and where to use which one.
It was surprising how few guards that were stationed in the shade training facilities, it was almost too easy to move around here. Dragor reached his destination. He stretched out his left hand to open the door. In the meanwhile he raised his other hand, holding a small hollow stick made of darkwood. Inside rested a needle covered in a potent poison, causing death in mere seconds. He opened the door slightly and blew in the pipe. The needle was propelled at his master Seresh. It struck his arm, and awakened him. Seresh felt a searing pain around the needle, along with a weakness and paralysis that spread rapidly through his body. He recognized to poison easily, and he knew that he had only little time left alive. He turned his head at the door and asked with a failing voice
“Poisonarrow?”
Dragor was surprised to be recognized. He was wearing dark clothes and a black cape. He was also wearing a mask that was hiding all but his steel gray eyes. The life in Seresh’s brown eyes was quickly fading away, but just before he drew his last breath Dragor replied:
“No, Shadowfury.”
Then he turned around and left the area. He walked towards the exit, carefully placing his feet, making sure to avoid even the slightest noise. The darkness was so thick, he could almost feel it, but thanks to his elven eyes he could easily see.
He reached the exit, and looked out of the window that was incorporated in the door. Outside stood two guards, laughing about something. Dragor needed to bypass them. If he chose to fight it might alert some of the other guards. He stood up and opened the door. He looked briefly up to the sky. Perfect, clouded, neither moon nor stars to see, just perfect.
“Who are you, and what is your business here at this time?”
The guard spoke with speed, and a grin beneath his helmet. He had caught a night runner, which could possibly lead to a promotion. Or so he thought, but Dragor knew that he was unlikely to survive until dawn.
“Natesh Poisonarrow, shade and on my way to Koughas on a mission. The reason you don’t know about it is because it relies on information that was just acquired, and with a need of haste that prevented us from sending it through the usual procedure”
“And how do we know that you speak the truth?”
Dragor replied with a harsh tune and a louder voice.
“You don’t, but any further delaying of my mission may mean its failure, and I don’t think I need to tell you what happens when Master Seresh learns that you prevented its success”
The guard stepped backwards, and his eyes began to flicker between Dragor and the other guard. As he spoke a slight tremble could be heard in his voice.
“A-all right then. Go along”
Finally he could stop being Natesh poisonarrow, and be Dragor Shadowfury, the one he truly was. Dragor proceeded, and wandered into the night, leaving the slave camp, but not for long. Soon he would return for his revenge.
Traveling to Koughas
He ran through the pine forest. Only a short time to the dawn, the eastern horizon was already lighting up a little. The dark elves were just behind him, only a few branches were separating him and their blades. They had discovered his deeds and his escape quickly, and send out a group of warriors to hunt him down. His feet hammered down on the earth and the cliffs, breaking through the layer of earth and pine needles from the mountain. He knew he was on the way to Koughas, the home of his ancestors. Suddenly he stopped, because he had ended up in a blind way. From the woods on both sides of him, vertical cliff walls appeared, and the cliffs rose from the ground in front of him as well. He was trapped and doomed. There was little chance that he could defeat all of the warriors on his tail, but if it could happen it would be here, where only one or two could reach him at a time. He turned around and drew his blade.
“And so it ends, your petty betrayal attempt has ended before it really began Natesh, or should I say Dragor?”
The dark elven sergeant’s voice was filled with triumph and scorn
“I never betrayed anyone, but if I had stayed any longer then I would have betrayed myself.”
Dragor replied with neither fear nor regret in his voice.
He then kicked a rock towards the dark elves, nearly hitting the sergeant in the face. The dark elves moved forwards to engage him, murder shining in their eyes. The first one swung his sword to hit Dragor from above, but his blade met Dragor’s in midair. The other one trusted his sword at Dragor’s chest, but he evaded the blow by turning his torso, the blade hitting the cliff behind him. At the same time, Dragor’s clenched fist struck the first soldiers’ belly. The soldier folded up as Dragor swung his blade to slash through the lunge of his other opponent. Dragor then grabbed the handle of the first soldier’s sword and slashed his throat with it. Another soldier went forward, swinging a heavy axe at Dragor from above. Dragor needed the strength of both his arms to block the attack. The soldier did not think of guarding his groin though, and Dragor’s kick made him let go of his weapon and fold up in surprise. A knee kick in his face finished him off, smashing his face and breaking his neck, killing him instantly. The Dragor threw one of his swords, hitting a soldier that was aiming at him with a crossbow right in the throat. Then the sergeant moved forth, drawing a sword and a handaxe. Dragor blocked a perfectly arced swing from the sword, and dodged the first blow from the axe. Then it happened, a bolt from a dark elven crossbow struck true and hit Dragor in the shoulder. He brought forth his determination and blocked the next swing from the axe, but the pain from the wound had clouded his concentration, and he did not see the danger. The dark elven sergeant twisted the axe and pulled it backwards, pulling the blade from Dragor’s hand. The sergeant then struck him in the side with his sword. Dragor fell backwards, barely evading a swing from the axe that would have separated his head and body, but he knew that the next strike would be fatal nonetheless. But the next blow never came, for in the same second the sergeant’s throat was pierced by a black feathered arrow. Just a second later another few followed, slaying the dark elves where they stood.
Then a band of hooded persons emerged from the forest on top of the cliffs. They wore dark green clothing that blended in with the forest, and they carried bows and swords. One of them lowered a rope from the cliffs and they crawled down. They took position in a half circle around Dragor.
“Should we take him with us?”
One of the hooded figures seemed to direct the question to the whole group.
“I think we should leave him here to rot, he is not one of ours and he carries dark elven gear.”
Another one replied with a voice filled with hatred.
“But the dark elves chased him. They were trying to kill him”
“I know, but that doesn’t make him our friend. Maybe he’s just another dark elf who didn’t know his place”
“Really, then they don’t get this far. An enemy of the dark elves is your friend. What do you think fellows? Should we bring him back to Koughas?”
A few of the hooded moved from side to side, but most moved up and down.
The beginning
Now was the time. She was about to give birth to their child. Ekeroth and his beloved wife were in a Dark elven slave camp. They had been captured only 2 months ago and put here. He was the heir to the rulership of the kougans, and the only son in the family. They were attacked while hunting with 4 other kougans, and the dark elves had slaughtered the others. Since then Ekeroth and his wife, Aiilo, had been slaves. They were forced to work hard in the mines, suffering under the whip. It was a bit of a miracle that Aiilo had not lost the child, but as all kougans, she was tough, and apparently their child was as well. They were living in a small cell along with one other slave, an old woman. Aiilo’s scream brought him back from his thoughts. They were lucky that she was giving birth in the night. Otherwise the dark elves would certainly be there to cause even more pain. Ekeroth looked at his wife. Despite all she had been through her beauty had lasted. Despite the dust from the mines in her hair and on her ragged and worn clothes, she still looked wonderful. Her golden hair was spread out on the floor where she lay. Her face was still as beautiful as the day they met, the blue eyes were especially hypnotizing to behold. Ekeroth himself was high and muscular, even for a kougan, even for a Shadowfury. His skin was darker than usual for an elf, but still not as dark as the human’s got in the end of the summer. His hair was black, about the length of a dagger. His eyes were dark brown. His body, especially his arms, was dotted by scars from countless skirmishes. Aiilo screamed again, and a shaking went through her. At the same time, the old human woman stood up with a small elf in her arms. The old woman gave the elf child, the son of Ekeroth and Aiilo shadowfury, to Aiilo. Aiilo’s happiness with her child was obvious, shown clearly by her smile, and the gleam in her eyes, she was tired but happy. Ekeroth was happy too, but he was also worried about the child, for what upbringing would it get. Either it would be condemned to a life as a slave, or it would be taken away from them to be raised by a dark elven family, in order to turn him to the darkness. They had a mean to protect him from being turned to darkness, even if he was taken away.
“What are you going to name him?”
The old woman asked.
“Dragor Shadowfury”
Ekeroth replied. Everything was silent for a time, except for the sound of a feeding baby. Suddenly Aiilo spoke, with a worried voice
“We need to prepare for giving the soulward blessing. We’ll need to be done before the slavers come to take us to the mines.”
Little Dragor was walking alongside his mother towards the mines, the sun had barely risen. He had just learned to walk properly. He had not been taken away from the beginning, but was instead brought up by his real parents until now. On their way to the mines, a high ranking dark elf officer and his 2 bodyguards approached them. They were all clad in daily clothing, but carrying their weapons. One of the bodyguards walked directly up to Ekeroth and punched him in the stomach. The officer took a hold in Dragor’s arm and pulled him from his parents. The other bodyguard pushed Aiilo up against the cliffs, tore her skirt apart and tried to rape her. Ekeroth got up and grabbed the first bodyguard’s blade. He stabbed the one, who was trying to rape his wife, in the back, then turned around and cut the throat of the other one. Blood splashed on the cliffs, and onto the face and torso of Ekeroth, making him a scary sight indeed, an elf, but muscular for his race, covered in blood, with a blade of blackened steel in his hand and an intense wrath and hatred in his eyes. The dark elf officer pulled forth a crossbow and took aim at Ekeroth. He ran at the officer, sword raised to strike, but the officer bulled out a blade from his sleeve, and stabbed Ekeroth in the eye. All the while Dragor had been standing still, too terrified to move.
Escaping
Now was the time. Dragor was sneaking through the darkness towards the bedroom of his former master. Since the day his father was murdered, he had lived in a dark elf family. They had named him Natesh Poisonarrow. He had pretended to be similar in thought to a dark elf, but the sight of his father’s murder had burned itself to his mind. That he could never forget. He had been picked for military service, fighting the greenskin in the Shadowspine Mountains. He had done well, and eventually he was picked to join the ranks of the shades, the most feared assassins in the world. There he had trained for 30 years, and now he was done. He knew how to fade into the darkness, and where to strike to cause the most harm. He had learned create and recognize poisons, and where to use which one.
It was surprising how few guards that were stationed in the shade training facilities, it was almost too easy to move around here. Dragor reached his destination. He stretched out his left hand to open the door. In the meanwhile he raised his other hand, holding a small hollow stick made of darkwood. Inside rested a needle covered in a potent poison, causing death in mere seconds. He opened the door slightly and blew in the pipe. The needle was propelled at his master Seresh. It struck his arm, and awakened him. Seresh felt a searing pain around the needle, along with a weakness and paralysis that spread rapidly through his body. He recognized to poison easily, and he knew that he had only little time left alive. He turned his head at the door and asked with a failing voice
“Poisonarrow?”
Dragor was surprised to be recognized. He was wearing dark clothes and a black cape. He was also wearing a mask that was hiding all but his steel gray eyes. The life in Seresh’s brown eyes was quickly fading away, but just before he drew his last breath Dragor replied:
“No, Shadowfury.”
Then he turned around and left the area. He walked towards the exit, carefully placing his feet, making sure to avoid even the slightest noise. The darkness was so thick, he could almost feel it, but thanks to his elven eyes he could easily see.
He reached the exit, and looked out of the window that was incorporated in the door. Outside stood two guards, laughing about something. Dragor needed to bypass them. If he chose to fight it might alert some of the other guards. He stood up and opened the door. He looked briefly up to the sky. Perfect, clouded, neither moon nor stars to see, just perfect.
“Who are you, and what is your business here at this time?”
The guard spoke with speed, and a grin beneath his helmet. He had caught a night runner, which could possibly lead to a promotion. Or so he thought, but Dragor knew that he was unlikely to survive until dawn.
“Natesh Poisonarrow, shade and on my way to Koughas on a mission. The reason you don’t know about it is because it relies on information that was just acquired, and with a need of haste that prevented us from sending it through the usual procedure”
“And how do we know that you speak the truth?”
Dragor replied with a harsh tune and a louder voice.
“You don’t, but any further delaying of my mission may mean its failure, and I don’t think I need to tell you what happens when Master Seresh learns that you prevented its success”
The guard stepped backwards, and his eyes began to flicker between Dragor and the other guard. As he spoke a slight tremble could be heard in his voice.
“A-all right then. Go along”
Finally he could stop being Natesh poisonarrow, and be Dragor Shadowfury, the one he truly was. Dragor proceeded, and wandered into the night, leaving the slave camp, but not for long. Soon he would return for his revenge.
Traveling to Koughas
He ran through the pine forest. Only a short time to the dawn, the eastern horizon was already lighting up a little. The dark elves were just behind him, only a few branches were separating him and their blades. They had discovered his deeds and his escape quickly, and send out a group of warriors to hunt him down. His feet hammered down on the earth and the cliffs, breaking through the layer of earth and pine needles from the mountain. He knew he was on the way to Koughas, the home of his ancestors. Suddenly he stopped, because he had ended up in a blind way. From the woods on both sides of him, vertical cliff walls appeared, and the cliffs rose from the ground in front of him as well. He was trapped and doomed. There was little chance that he could defeat all of the warriors on his tail, but if it could happen it would be here, where only one or two could reach him at a time. He turned around and drew his blade.
“And so it ends, your petty betrayal attempt has ended before it really began Natesh, or should I say Dragor?”
The dark elven sergeant’s voice was filled with triumph and scorn
“I never betrayed anyone, but if I had stayed any longer then I would have betrayed myself.”
Dragor replied with neither fear nor regret in his voice.
He then kicked a rock towards the dark elves, nearly hitting the sergeant in the face. The dark elves moved forwards to engage him, murder shining in their eyes. The first one swung his sword to hit Dragor from above, but his blade met Dragor’s in midair. The other one trusted his sword at Dragor’s chest, but he evaded the blow by turning his torso, the blade hitting the cliff behind him. At the same time, Dragor’s clenched fist struck the first soldiers’ belly. The soldier folded up as Dragor swung his blade to slash through the lunge of his other opponent. Dragor then grabbed the handle of the first soldier’s sword and slashed his throat with it. Another soldier went forward, swinging a heavy axe at Dragor from above. Dragor needed the strength of both his arms to block the attack. The soldier did not think of guarding his groin though, and Dragor’s kick made him let go of his weapon and fold up in surprise. A knee kick in his face finished him off, smashing his face and breaking his neck, killing him instantly. The Dragor threw one of his swords, hitting a soldier that was aiming at him with a crossbow right in the throat. Then the sergeant moved forth, drawing a sword and a handaxe. Dragor blocked a perfectly arced swing from the sword, and dodged the first blow from the axe. Then it happened, a bolt from a dark elven crossbow struck true and hit Dragor in the shoulder. He brought forth his determination and blocked the next swing from the axe, but the pain from the wound had clouded his concentration, and he did not see the danger. The dark elven sergeant twisted the axe and pulled it backwards, pulling the blade from Dragor’s hand. The sergeant then struck him in the side with his sword. Dragor fell backwards, barely evading a swing from the axe that would have separated his head and body, but he knew that the next strike would be fatal nonetheless. But the next blow never came, for in the same second the sergeant’s throat was pierced by a black feathered arrow. Just a second later another few followed, slaying the dark elves where they stood.
Then a band of hooded persons emerged from the forest on top of the cliffs. They wore dark green clothing that blended in with the forest, and they carried bows and swords. One of them lowered a rope from the cliffs and they crawled down. They took position in a half circle around Dragor.
“Should we take him with us?”
One of the hooded figures seemed to direct the question to the whole group.
“I think we should leave him here to rot, he is not one of ours and he carries dark elven gear.”
Another one replied with a voice filled with hatred.
“But the dark elves chased him. They were trying to kill him”
“I know, but that doesn’t make him our friend. Maybe he’s just another dark elf who didn’t know his place”
“Really, then they don’t get this far. An enemy of the dark elves is your friend. What do you think fellows? Should we bring him back to Koughas?”
A few of the hooded moved from side to side, but most moved up and down.
