16 Fun With Elves

Silth Harshlore peered around a corner and scowled, his white teeth gleaming against black skin. Curse this area! It all looked the same. He slid around the wall and moved smoothly forward, eyes darting left, right, up and down, checking for traps as he went. He had already nearly been skewered by spikes and squashed by falling rocks. This was a perilous region.

He found a small alcove and, after checking it carefully, squatted down to rest. How could they have lost it? It must have been stolen, despite what Scut had said before the squad leader had gutted him for dereliction of duty.

Anyway, if they didn't find it they would all be made an example of. He fingered his sword. Perhaps he should try and make it out on his own, he knew of a colony not too far away, in the Shadow Mountain Range.

Silth's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of something approaching. He stood up and moved back against the wall, further into the shadow, as a hulking figure loomed into view.

The solid form of the Golem stopped, and Silth cursed as a piercing red glare swung around to appraise him.

"I am Silth Harshlore, Dark Elf scout. I carry nothing of value, killing me would be pointless," he said boldly as the eyes drew close.

The Golem bent over to address him face to face. "Where are they?" it asked.

"Where are who? My party? I will not tell, gut me if you will, for they will do worse should I betray them."

"I am not interested in your pathetic group. I'm searching for the one called Dreth."

Silth shook his head. "Never heard of anyone by that name. I'm not from this area though."

The Golem rumbled and drew closer, the eyes seemed to burn into him, and for a moment Silth thought his time had come. Then it stood up again and stepped back into the passageway again.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Silth leaned against the wall. There was a sudden 'click' and he just had time to look around before the trap's darts skewered him.

He grabbed at his side as acid sizzled and smoked, burning his flesh away. A fiery pain spread down his body as clothes and skin succumbed to the corrosive. The Golem watched, unmoving as he slumped to one side, his internal organs now exposed to the air.

"Help... me," he gasped, holding a hand out towards the stone creature. His fingers started to dissolve where he had touched the dart, and one fell off. As he dropped to the floor in agony the watching giant lost interest, and turned away to clump off down the corridor.

As his liver was eaten through, Silth thought he heard it humming to itself. Then everything went black.

~ * ~

"What," said Dreth, pulling a bundle out of the sack, "in Dreg's name is this?" So saying he held up, by a leg, a chubby baby wrapped in a ragged cloth.

"It's a baby elf! A cute, young, juicy baby!" exclaimed Percy. "Oh please, please! Give me a bit! I have never tasted baby elf before! Just and arm, or maybe a leg."

"Uuuugg uuuuur!" agreed Cuthbert.

Dreth held the baby upside down and looked at it. It gurgled and attempted to put a fist into its mouth. Big green eyes stared at him in a sickeningly cute way. He grimaced. "Very well, but I get the liver and the brain. Here, slice it up." He started to pass the infant to Cuthbert when he was interrupted.

"HOLD!!" Redthorne stepped forward, his staff blazing light. "I had forgotten what foul beasts you really are! I will not allow you to devour this innocent."

"Oh foo! What are you going to do Mr. Wizard?" asked Percy, though he eyed the pulsating staff warily.

"I will use all my power to stop this depraved act, even if it costs me my life," replied the mage.

Dreth paused, the baby still held in one hand, and looked at the scowling Redthorne. He glanced over at the zombies, who would have been drooling if they were capable of such. Even Smudge was licking her lips.

"Well, I don't know. I mean it is a baby. We don't often get such a morsel down here you know..."

"You may kill me," growled the wizard, "but I will take the zombies and the flying shrimp with me at least. And who knows? You may find you're not so tough yourself."

Dreth scratched his ear and thought about it. He was fairly sure he could take out the wizard, but the mage had the right of it. It was likely that Redthorne would do a large amount of damage before he could stop him, and Dreth couldn't really afford such a setback.

"Here then, you want it, you look after it." He passed the baby over to the wizard, who nearly dropped it in shock.

"Aaaawww! What did you do that for? Do you know the last time we had a baby down here?" moaned Percy.

"Uuuhuuu!" said Cuthbert.

"That's right! Never! You're such a spoilsport." Percy folded his arms and tried to sniff.

"Uuu uuu uuhhh ahhh uuuung?" asked Cuthbert, gesturing to the baby and his mouth.

"No, you can't have its tongue. It's too small anyway," said Dreth. "Now, fix Percy up. We still have that Golem behind us, remember?"

"Bah. This will come back and haunt you, mark my words," said Percy. Still, he held out his leg as Cuthbert reached into his bag and drew out the zombie fixing kit.

"It can't have been in that pit very long," said Smudge, hovering over the infant, which clapped its hands in delight.

"You're right." Dreth looked about. "Whoever left it may still be near. We'd better be careful."

"At least it seems to be in good health," said Redthorne. He leaned his staff against the wall and made a complicated gesture. There was a flash of light and a bottle of milk appeared in his hand. "Dinner time."

"Very convenient," said Dreth. "You always carry a milk conjuring spell with you?"

"I am a wizard of the 11th order of White Light, capable of many spells beyond your ken creature," replied the mage haughtily, as the baby sucked happily at the meal.

"Mmmm." Dreth wasn't convinced. There was something going on here. However, centuries of half-life had taught him patience. He would find out in due course, or it would be baby brains for breakfast. He looked at the zombies. "Are we ready?"

Percy was standing up carefully, testing his damaged leg whilst leaning on Sprat. "I think so."

"Good. I suggest you watch where you step from now on." Dreth turned to the wizard. "Keep the brat quiet, or I'll be having a sudden snack." He gestured at Percy. "Let's go."

The zombie muttered something under his breath, but limped through the door, being careful to step around the pit. The others followed, with the mage, still holding the baby, bringing up the rear. Sprat trotted next to him, fascinated by the little elf.

~ * ~

Furn sloped forward, bow ready and senses straining. The rest of the group was close behind, in standard dungeon formation. The sorceress was in the center, protected by the other warriors.

He wiped his brow. Elves weren't supposed to sweat, but the strain was beginning to take its toll on them all. They had encountered several dangerous creatures, and brave hunters had fallen in battle fighting them off. Still more had succumbed to a swathe of deadly traps, and they had just discovered the half eaten remains of Fyy Fleetfoot, their best scout.

Still, they were the best of Jollygreenwood, so they pushed on. They had a job to do, and they would do it or die trying. Unfortunately, thought Furn, it was looking as if the latter would be the likely outcome.

He stopped suddenly, raising his hand as they rounded a corner. A short distance away was a creature. A zombie! He drew his bow back and fired in one smooth motion, hitting the beast in the arm. It fell back with a dry hiss.

The other elves moved forward, bows ready and blades drawn. The mage started to chant a spell.

The zombie crawled back, to be replaced by another figure in a long robe. Another zombie, Hurn though as he threw his bow to the ground and drew his rapier. No, not a zombie, it was moving too fast, he barely had time to get his weapon up as the attacker swung his black blade around in a low sweep.

He blocked, but the dark sword simply smashed through the metal of his rapier, leaving him staring at a stump.

As the others rushed up to help him, the creature thrust, moving far faster than he had ever seen anything move before. The blade pierced his chest, and now he could hear the laughter, the cold evil laughter, in his head.

As he felt his life energy sucked away into the metal of the sword, the shouts of his comrades faded, to be replaced by a dark voice that became his whole world.

"Blooood," it hissed. "Blooood."