IX Days of Darkness

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The incessant marching of Ifer's army echoed through the empty planes. The great dwarven hall of Frostforge was their destination - Grauknok's hold in the mountain. Glortur would make no mistake, this time. His master instructed that all life was to be extinguished, whether by blade or fire. Even life as insignificant as a rat that dwells beneath tavern floors. Glortur led the army, mounted on a mountain goat (it being three times the size of a normal mountain goat). Behind him was nearly five-hundred of the skeletal hell spawn, and two scores of Moon-Elves. Four other trusted worshipers were mixed within the army to aid in instruction.

"Let us be quiet like! Be best we catch 'em while dey be sleepin'." Glortur called out. The city was within a mile's reach, now.

Upon Glortur's command, the army soon was divided and inherited a new leader. The five worshipers approached the hall from different directions. Each had roughly one-hundred undead trailing behind them, and four moon-elves. Each of the armies, now, were at least two miles apart from each other.

One of the worshipers delayed their advances. The boorish creature became a ball, protected by its scaled, armored hide. It came to a halt before the moon elves. It stood up, its back hunched over and its knees curved inwards. Its lanky, linen wrapped arms dangled towards and met with the ground. Trudging towards the blue skinned elves, its forked black tongue slid about its lips, catching the drool that fell from its large overbite. Large tusks curved out from the corners of its jaws to shield its long, yet flat face, causing its speech to be sloppy and muffled.

"You quaer." It grunted, a twisted hand slowly rising off the ground and pointing to the four elves. "There, you go." It continued, sluggishly thrusting a finger towards the large dwarven hall in the distance. "They see us. They evacuate king dwarf. You get them first." It instructed, its tongue once again making effort to catch the waterfall of muddy saliva that inevitably escaped while it spoke.

The elves, while repulsed by the creature's grotesque appearance, understood their mission. They gave each other a wicked grin, eager to begin their gruesome task. Bringing their hands to their chests, a silvery glow came from their palms as they muttered in their native tongue. Within a moment, they were no longer visible. To kill the king of the mountain, King Silverheart. Oh how great of a task!

-

King Silverheart was an honorable man. Few dwarven kingdoms were in alliance with man, elf, and races of all kinds! During the unknown siege, he sat slouched in his stone throne. He was nearly half the size of most mortal men, a bit shorter than the average dwarf too. While plump, he had his fair share of muscle strength. Decorated in comfortable, silver robes, King Silverheart looked as though he could fall asleep in that uncomfortable chair! A late night meeting had been held in regard to the burning of the forest and the mountains. Though somehow, news of this hadn't reached common folk and the majority of the city guard. One would think, however, that they could simply look to the sky and pass judgement. The days were growing dark, night blending with day as smoke devoured the sun.

Silverheart lifted his head abruptly, more startled by the sound of his own snore than the young knight who had thrown the throne room doors open wide.

"What is the meaning of this!?" A voice cried out.

The voice belonged to Yesyth, King Silverheart's personal guard. She had quickly drawn her blade. Whether it was directed towards the young knight, or she was seemingly aware of probable danger, one simply could not tell.

The young knight tripped over his words, stiff with fear. He briskly walked further into the room, gulping at the air a moment. "The gate-- an army is here!" He gasped. "They're in the--" He attempted to continue, but instead choked up blood.

A long, slender blade had buried itself in his ribs. No sooner did his corpse fall to the floor. The blade withdrew, and its holder sighed. "What a pity. I had hoped to be the bearer of bad news." He complained. Casually, he pulled a brownish red cloth from his belt and cleaned the blood from his sword.

Yesyth's jaw clenched and she shuttered. She could assume that the color of the rag came from the blood of many. She gripped her claymore firmly, her knuckles white. She opened her mouth to speak, but the murderer's taunting voice filled the room instead.

"Tsk tsk, how weak this 'great kingdom' is! This knight, that's what he is, yes? He looks as though he's hardly seen thirteen winters and yet he defends the great hall of Grauknok! Your prized army is a bunch of milk drinkers, then?" He breathed. First, he looked rather disappointed. Though his icy blue lips then quickly stretched into a wide, satisfied grin, and he laughed! "Wonderful! I truly admire you!"

King Silverheart's brow furrowed, a vein bulging against his temple as a feeling of absolute rage bubbled in his chest. He stood and swiftly snatched the sword of a nearby guard, launching it at the moon elf's wicked grin.

The cave dweller simply stepped to the side, avoiding the sloppily thrown blade. "You're so full of life, my lord! It is a shame that I'm to strip you of even that."

"Assassin scum!" Yesyth blurted out, darting in front of Silverheart. "Who are you to dream that you can kill our king!?"

Tossing the rag down against the young knight's drooping figure, the moon elf advanced towards King Silverheart and Yesyth. All other knights in the room now drew their blades, earning a glare from Yesyth. Were they so shocked that they hadn't thought to do so before? A bunch of milk drinkers indeed! Yesyth's gaze then returned to the elf, who was now a sword's length away.

He smiled. "Me? I'm but a humble messenger."

"My ass! You've watered our floors with the blood of a child. What more could you have to say?" Her voice trembled for a moment, yet was full of force.

"Those 'words' were my own, as my master has instructed me to say only one thing." He replied, sweeping a low, mocking bow.

"And?"

He lifted his head, his expression being that of killing intent. "The days of darkness are upon you."