Soul Slave

Fiery Wrath

"I'm glad you agree with me, this waiting for the morning game was boring me down to my bones..." The elf warlord Varanthar spouted out from beneath his red and black leather cloak, mail armor underneath the platemail that reflected the night sky, dyed gold.

"They could succumb to your dwarf's illness, or prepare a militia for morning. We cannot allow that my lord." Spalsa spoke like a rat, high pitched and low volume, curling at the presence of his master.

The two were just now walking off their ship that landed, the blockade had opened up and allowed the king of the high elf to pass onto land. Their boots stomping onto the ground, Spalsa spoke his mind that was full of anxiety about the situation they were walking in on.

"We were supposed to delay your arrival until the morning with sunrise, when the lich will have control over the illness better... Right now as he described it is still in it's incubation period which means.-" He was interrupted in the middle of his lecture.

"I know what it means, welp, doesn't stop me from eradicating the entire village with my hands."

"If you're bit, before the undead are controlled you will become them sire."

"No wretch shall bite me." Spouted out Varanthar as they began to walk up the steps from the shipyard leading to the trade district where hundreds of undead waited to bite them.

Varanthar realized the irony in his words seconds after entering the bazaar, at least seven undead turned their attention towards the two elves. Yet they didn't see the flurry of arrows coming from above, nor if they did would that stop them from shambling and gurgling at the sight of two elf's on the menu.

Being impaled all over the body with arrows didn't stop them as they kept coming, the entire market turned into a horde of undead rushing shoulder to shoulder at the steps that lead down to the ship yard. Varanthar revealed his gloved hands from under his cloak and brought his arms out in front of him releasing a cone of fire that enveloped the entirety of the marketplace, but almost immediately he realized the hood created a blind spot. An infected dwarf ran up from under him, grabbing his forearm and pulled it down.

Varanthar stopped the fiery stream, that left over twenty undead nothing more than ash at the intensity of the heat. He saw the dwarf about to take a bite into his leather bracer when suddenly Spalsa shoved a dagger through it's heading causing it to go motionless at once. He turned around, looking at the archers that were hidden amidst the shadow behind them on the steps.

"Aim for the head, you cunts!" Shouted out Spalsa.

Varanthar looked down at his wrist and glared, looking up to the hundreds more undead approaching, but he had plenty of time before he had to make a choice. Right lead out into the part of the community owned by the dwarven Harmont brother, while the left would take him towards the rendezvous point that Quintus was supposed to meet him at sundown if he hadn't fleed already.

Throwing off his cloak, he'd look up to the moon that was still barely appearing. "The night is young, let's do Quintus a favor shall we?" Varanthar grinned maliciously and took off in a quick stride to the right.

Spalsa and his elite squadron of archers who had been given the name night's venom followed behind their master in hopes to find more things to kill. As Varanthar had stated it was still far from sunrise, and the full elven fleet where far from arriving and decimating the humans, giving forth a new era where the genocide of the humans means the peace and security to the elven empire.

Varanthar marched fast, making Spalsa have to awkwardly run up, he had also thrown off his cloak just not in such a dramatic fashion.

"Think their teeth can rip through leather?" Varanthar slowed his pace, looking around the abandoned apartments but otherwise seemed untouched by the disaster that had been playing out before their arrival.