The elf slipped silently over the edge of the cliff, walking delicately through the underbrush as if it weren't even there. In the still of the night, a nocturnal bird set off a warning in the night to his right and a small mammal moved to his left. The air was thick with the scent of filth and smoke, not the most common of scents this wanderer was accustomed to.
Now fifteen feet from the overhang he had dropped from, the elf crouched low as the orc sentry kicked a stake from a hastily made enclosure. The resulting stream of profanity brought a light smile to the white haired sylvan's otherwise emotionless eyes. Tonight these orcs would pay.
He had been tracking them for several days now...almost a week as he recalled. They had fell upon his party that day, nearly twenty strong with three ogres leading the attack. The mage of his party, wise as ever, had removed him from the battle and the world of conciousness. When he awoke, the camp was no more...all that remained were the tracks of the war party. They had been easy to follow, but fast. The horses the orcs rode were strong beasts and a challenge even for the light-footed elf to gain on. All that had changed when they reached the river though; apparently most of the horses were carried away. Poetic justice almost, considering the river of blood the elf would unleash from their bodies...that river would consume them yet.
The orc sentry had moved on now, continuing his circles about the camps. Funny things these orcs, big...strong...but incredibly dumb. Why the elves had not extinguished them all was a question the elf had still to answer.
Rising up from his knee, the lithe form slipped closer and closer, now merging with the shadow of a tent; probably stolen from an unwary caravan. The pair of sentries were speaking on the other side of camp, if the forest dweller listened quietly, he could even make out some of their words. Their lips would not move much longer he promised himself.
It was almost time to strike. Silently, the elf slipped a dull black blade from his right boot and waited as the orc came near. Hopefully the fire in the middle of camp would prevent infravision from working properly...that much heat was always a problem at night for such creatures, they would have done better without it.
It was time, the orc stepped past the elf. With instincts born from years of killing such creatures, the sylvan creature slipped behind the noisy beast and severed its spinal cord. Dark black blood, reflecting the light of the fire in the middle of camp, flowed from the deep wound and onto the white tabard adorning the assassin. With strength possessed only by the fae, the elf managed to set the orc down without a noise against a tree. The wound would prevent all movement below the neck, and since the lungs could not be controlled, the putrid beast would be unable to speak.
The still young bladesinger move quietly around the edge of the camp, approaching the second sentry moving about on his shift. Another easy dispatch...with luck, the sylvan elf would be able to dispense with all the orcs without a sound in warning to their 'pets'. Crouching down, the elf pulled from his pouch a small measure of glittering white sand. Whispering words of the arcane, his eyes tracked the orc. A small puff of smoke signalled the success of the spell and a triplet of purple arrows hurtled into the back of the orc. Quite aware of the noise the orc might still make, the cloaked figure intercepted the collapsing orc and laid waste to its throat.
He had moved too soon, to his left came a sudden cry of alarm...one had been sitting a few yards from camp against a small rock. Not good! Pulling more powder from his pouch, the elven voice pulled force the arcane energies into a stranglehold about the orc's throat. It would cry no longer...had it managed to awaken the others though?
Within seconds, the question was answered as a great roar came from not 10 yards away. There, laying on the ground, was a great beast nearly twice the elf's dimunitive stature. To his right came the sound of an creature moving quickly.
A streak of glinting silver announced the readiness of the elf. Both elven longswords found their target within milliseconds, removing an arm and cutting through the orc's shoulder before become planted in its mid-chest region. With a powerful kick, the elf knocked the orc off his blade and back to the ground. A measure of relief came in the tiny black spout that erupted from the ruptured arteries within the putrid creature's wound.
All around now came the sounds of creatures coming to their senses...at least twenty orcs and how many more ogres? The orcs would be easily dispatched, not so of the ogres. Moving swiftly, the elf leapt over a felled foe and neared the woods about to leave the orcs to recover their dead and wounded. The ogre had other ideas however.
Just as the creature of the woods neared his escape, the fire glinted off the large, dumb eyes of an ogre awaiting him. His teachers had warned him of such things and previous experiences had taught him to fear them. Despite all that stupidity, they were still very strong and not too slow. Faking right, the blade-wielding elf leapt left onto a rising arm.
The elf landed lightly on the ground as the ogre grasped its badly bleeding arm. The elven blades had cut deep, but not deep enough to sever the muscle...another attack would guarantee that. To his back and left came the sounds of three or four orcs leaving their tents. Instantly, the elf turned his his still raised foot and leapt back at the ogre. So preoccupied with its suddenly bleeding arm was it, that the right had no time to block the deadly weapons from its hated foe.
With cold certainty of mission, the elven feet landed daintily on the ogre's chest, to be followed swiftly by a glinting longsword for support. The longsword buried itself deep into the giant, giving the elf the opportunity to slash across the eyes of the beast with the other sword.
A rush of air followed the elf back as the ogre attempted to swat him off. A cry of anguish and agony came from the beast as it realized, suddenly, that it could no longer see and pain came from all over. Fury took it over and the elf barely managed to dodge the leg-sized fist as it crashed into the ground where he had stood.
Rolling to his feet, the elf pulled more powder from his pouch. Arcane words spewed forth and a triplet of magical bolts exploded from his hands to bury themselves in the chest of the beast. Still, it didn't stop...though the orcs did. One did not get within several dozen meters of a pissed ogre, it was reputedly quite unhealthy according to the few who had survived.
Its rage still seething, the beast made a grab at its quick-footed tormentor. Luck was not with it however as the elf leapt through its closing fist and onto its right arm. With deadly accuracy born of cold determination, the elven longswords cut deep once again and the arm rose high, hurtling the elf into a weak tree branch. With a small groan, the elf fell from the tree in time to see the ogre destroy the branches that had caught him. Death loomed near, but his training was up to the task.
Moving as only the elvenkind may, the ogre found his opponent behind him and the ever sharp weaponry digging deep into him once again. With a sickening snap, the ogre found his hamstrings both broken and collapsed to the ground. The deep chest wound and injuries to face and arms were taking their toll in both pain and bloodloss. The beast would not stop crying out its agony for days if it were not fully slain.
Slipping into a lower stance, the elf heard the familiar <pling> of a crossbow bolt sailing through the air and a slight <whoosh> as it passed above him. Just ahead, several orcs were charging forward to meet him.
OOC) Hope you enjoy, I'll write more when I get more time...not really an rp thread yet, we'll see if I decide to change it
Feedback is appreciated.
Edit) I hate when it doesn't recognize my spacings
Now fifteen feet from the overhang he had dropped from, the elf crouched low as the orc sentry kicked a stake from a hastily made enclosure. The resulting stream of profanity brought a light smile to the white haired sylvan's otherwise emotionless eyes. Tonight these orcs would pay.
He had been tracking them for several days now...almost a week as he recalled. They had fell upon his party that day, nearly twenty strong with three ogres leading the attack. The mage of his party, wise as ever, had removed him from the battle and the world of conciousness. When he awoke, the camp was no more...all that remained were the tracks of the war party. They had been easy to follow, but fast. The horses the orcs rode were strong beasts and a challenge even for the light-footed elf to gain on. All that had changed when they reached the river though; apparently most of the horses were carried away. Poetic justice almost, considering the river of blood the elf would unleash from their bodies...that river would consume them yet.
The orc sentry had moved on now, continuing his circles about the camps. Funny things these orcs, big...strong...but incredibly dumb. Why the elves had not extinguished them all was a question the elf had still to answer.
Rising up from his knee, the lithe form slipped closer and closer, now merging with the shadow of a tent; probably stolen from an unwary caravan. The pair of sentries were speaking on the other side of camp, if the forest dweller listened quietly, he could even make out some of their words. Their lips would not move much longer he promised himself.
It was almost time to strike. Silently, the elf slipped a dull black blade from his right boot and waited as the orc came near. Hopefully the fire in the middle of camp would prevent infravision from working properly...that much heat was always a problem at night for such creatures, they would have done better without it.
It was time, the orc stepped past the elf. With instincts born from years of killing such creatures, the sylvan creature slipped behind the noisy beast and severed its spinal cord. Dark black blood, reflecting the light of the fire in the middle of camp, flowed from the deep wound and onto the white tabard adorning the assassin. With strength possessed only by the fae, the elf managed to set the orc down without a noise against a tree. The wound would prevent all movement below the neck, and since the lungs could not be controlled, the putrid beast would be unable to speak.
The still young bladesinger move quietly around the edge of the camp, approaching the second sentry moving about on his shift. Another easy dispatch...with luck, the sylvan elf would be able to dispense with all the orcs without a sound in warning to their 'pets'. Crouching down, the elf pulled from his pouch a small measure of glittering white sand. Whispering words of the arcane, his eyes tracked the orc. A small puff of smoke signalled the success of the spell and a triplet of purple arrows hurtled into the back of the orc. Quite aware of the noise the orc might still make, the cloaked figure intercepted the collapsing orc and laid waste to its throat.
He had moved too soon, to his left came a sudden cry of alarm...one had been sitting a few yards from camp against a small rock. Not good! Pulling more powder from his pouch, the elven voice pulled force the arcane energies into a stranglehold about the orc's throat. It would cry no longer...had it managed to awaken the others though?
Within seconds, the question was answered as a great roar came from not 10 yards away. There, laying on the ground, was a great beast nearly twice the elf's dimunitive stature. To his right came the sound of an creature moving quickly.
A streak of glinting silver announced the readiness of the elf. Both elven longswords found their target within milliseconds, removing an arm and cutting through the orc's shoulder before become planted in its mid-chest region. With a powerful kick, the elf knocked the orc off his blade and back to the ground. A measure of relief came in the tiny black spout that erupted from the ruptured arteries within the putrid creature's wound.
All around now came the sounds of creatures coming to their senses...at least twenty orcs and how many more ogres? The orcs would be easily dispatched, not so of the ogres. Moving swiftly, the elf leapt over a felled foe and neared the woods about to leave the orcs to recover their dead and wounded. The ogre had other ideas however.
Just as the creature of the woods neared his escape, the fire glinted off the large, dumb eyes of an ogre awaiting him. His teachers had warned him of such things and previous experiences had taught him to fear them. Despite all that stupidity, they were still very strong and not too slow. Faking right, the blade-wielding elf leapt left onto a rising arm.
The elf landed lightly on the ground as the ogre grasped its badly bleeding arm. The elven blades had cut deep, but not deep enough to sever the muscle...another attack would guarantee that. To his back and left came the sounds of three or four orcs leaving their tents. Instantly, the elf turned his his still raised foot and leapt back at the ogre. So preoccupied with its suddenly bleeding arm was it, that the right had no time to block the deadly weapons from its hated foe.
With cold certainty of mission, the elven feet landed daintily on the ogre's chest, to be followed swiftly by a glinting longsword for support. The longsword buried itself deep into the giant, giving the elf the opportunity to slash across the eyes of the beast with the other sword.
A rush of air followed the elf back as the ogre attempted to swat him off. A cry of anguish and agony came from the beast as it realized, suddenly, that it could no longer see and pain came from all over. Fury took it over and the elf barely managed to dodge the leg-sized fist as it crashed into the ground where he had stood.
Rolling to his feet, the elf pulled more powder from his pouch. Arcane words spewed forth and a triplet of magical bolts exploded from his hands to bury themselves in the chest of the beast. Still, it didn't stop...though the orcs did. One did not get within several dozen meters of a pissed ogre, it was reputedly quite unhealthy according to the few who had survived.
Its rage still seething, the beast made a grab at its quick-footed tormentor. Luck was not with it however as the elf leapt through its closing fist and onto its right arm. With deadly accuracy born of cold determination, the elven longswords cut deep once again and the arm rose high, hurtling the elf into a weak tree branch. With a small groan, the elf fell from the tree in time to see the ogre destroy the branches that had caught him. Death loomed near, but his training was up to the task.
Moving as only the elvenkind may, the ogre found his opponent behind him and the ever sharp weaponry digging deep into him once again. With a sickening snap, the ogre found his hamstrings both broken and collapsed to the ground. The deep chest wound and injuries to face and arms were taking their toll in both pain and bloodloss. The beast would not stop crying out its agony for days if it were not fully slain.
Slipping into a lower stance, the elf heard the familiar <pling> of a crossbow bolt sailing through the air and a slight <whoosh> as it passed above him. Just ahead, several orcs were charging forward to meet him.
OOC) Hope you enjoy, I'll write more when I get more time...not really an rp thread yet, we'll see if I decide to change it
Feedback is appreciated.Edit) I hate when it doesn't recognize my spacings
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