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Ive been writing for a few years and wanted to post something i thought had potential. Hope you all enjoy and I'd love to hear opinions or any critiques on it. Thnks sweatdrop




He slowly stalks down the path, hair flowing through the nights’ gentle breeze. Ever so cautious of his surroundings, without even the slightest hint of noise arousing from his bare foot steps. Treading through the still somewhat burning embry remains of his once elegant home. Fires still ablaze in many different directions, lighting his way before him. Lief felt alone...
None had survived the massacre which had just so abruptly ended his happy world. Not even his sister could avoid this slaughter of innocent life.
Regardless of all his feelings there was no denying the fact that he was far from alone this tragic night. Surrounded on all sides by numerous orcs, smiling, happy of there indescribable deeds. Beaten, broken, and helpless, Lief was left with only one possible way out…death.
“Face me!” yelled an orc standing behind Lief.
“Maybe you can provide us with more entertainment then your women could.” Grinning widely it baited.
Anger and rage filled Lief’s heart as he swelled up for the certain confrontation.
“Give me my blade!” he spat eyeing the orcs, “Or are you that afraid of one tiny little Dallian elf.”
With a look of shere disgust the orc looked upon the truly small elven boy. Clad in nothing more than a thin pair of green pants and what seemed like a half burned shirt, that swayed back and forth at the his left side along with the wind. Skinny and pale, with long flowing golden brown hair that seemed coated with soot and other debris from the fires and ground he had been thrust upon. Ears pointing high and proud on either side of his head with a firm and elegant face.
What could he, the leader Dallvish orc clan have to fear from such a pathetic opponent. Standing nearly twice his size and twice his width to boast. Clad in multiple different armors from foes he had slain, foes much more threatening then this, child?!
“Give him your blade Finbelk.” Stated the orc leader as he glanced over his shoulder.
The small sword clanged noisily against the ground, smeared with mud and dried blood from battles long before this one. The hilt was worn and seemed to be replaced by some sort of dirty brown cloth latched in with wires. Still a blade was just that, a blade.
Lief reached down and grasped the pathetic thing in his hand, raising it above his head, end facing his foe and steel drawn slightly over his head. He sprang forth. Lief dashed towards his adversary moving with pure hatred in his eyes… death was his only thoughts.
As his every step brought him closer to his foe, the orc began to raise his crudely made axe. He planned on decapitating the boy once he was within reach, with one mighty swing.
Lief was upon the orc within six quick steps and had planned every last part of his attack before the battle had begun. Right as the orc swung his axe, placing all his power behind it, Lief simply dropped. Right down onto his knees in a sliding maneuver that brought him right beside the orc leader.
Surprisingly the orc looked down at the boy. Barely even seeing the adjustment in his charge as he had attacked. But once his eyes locked onto the child's he knew immediately of his errors. Looking back into his face was that of his worst fears… redemption. All the vile tasks he had completed, every little despicable thing he had once committed was staring him right in the face.
Just out of arms reach was the blood stained face of Lief. He had dropped down onto one knee leaving his other foot planted on the ground using the strength from his legs and arms to push his point through and brought the sword right into the orcs stomach, directly below its ribs pointing straight up. Hitting every vital organ there was under that armor.
The elf pulled loose the sword watching as the wounded orc fail to his knees before him. Eyes unmoving from one another the leader did the one thing he could do in his situation. Plea. Plea that the boy would let him live, spare him his life as he had denied to so many.
As he began to beg and shake at the blood loss at Lief’s feet a sharp noise cut into the night’s air. Laughter began to ring out over the night’s silent breeze. A cold a demented laughter that chilled the bone. Lief stood there, faced and chest drenched in blood, eyes swelling up with tears as he stopped laughing.
“Show you mercy! You will never understand the meaning devil!” cried Lief. “Never!” and with that he spent unbelievably quick letting off a loud snap as he came back around.
“Never…” he murmured as he kicked loose the orcs head. His sword had come almost completely through his neck before snapping in two ruggedly down the middle.
Finbelk was amazed. No one had ever been able to lay a hand upon his fearless leader, the tyrant could best three of there own in a fight alone. Yet here stood this tiny elf that had done what none else could accomplish.
“Kill him.” He directed in a low snarling voice to the others as he began to walk away. He knew none of them here could capture or slay that one. But he hoped they would at least buy him enough time to get far away from this place, so he could report the strange of occurrences of this night to his night matron.
“Guide me Civilla.” He whispered to the night.
Lief looked upon his opponents, he was outnumbered, overpowered, and only had half a weapon. Yet with all these benefactors against him he smiled… this would be a long and bloody night as long as there was a breath left in him.
Horns rang out through the air suddenly and Lief understood immediately he was no longer alone. The other surrounding elven clans had come at the sight of smoke, and the orcs had no chance against the fierce archers of the Dallian Moon Elves.
Seeing this as a signal to retreat the nearest orc from Lief stopped and turned to follow behind his fellow orc only to feel a sudden pain in the back of his neck and upper spine. He slowly turned reaching back to feel what he presumed was a hilt protruding from his neck. Standing directly in front of him was Lief. Gazing into his eyes with hatred, burning red with unparraled passion. The elf slowly drew the orcs long dagger from its sheath and slid it into his heart.
“I will be the last thing any of you see…” he whispered into the dying orcs ear.
“AH, Nolaz!” cried a near orc seeing as Lief freed the dagger. He ran in swinging madly at the elf. Only to catch nothing but air each time. It seemed as if the elf could anticipate his every attack and dodge it with reflexes that denied his current state.
“Stand still a face me coward!” shouted the orc.
“How could you dare call me a coward you fiend!” shouted Lief as he dodged yet another flailing attack only to counter it with a sharp jab of the dagger to the orcs left knee, puncturing it deeply. “You and your kind are the cowards!” yelled Leif at the limping orc.
Seeing the battle going in his disadvantage the wounded orc slung his sword through the near fire slinging flaming pieces of wood towards Lief. Lief leapt to the side and tossed the dagger, right into the orcs throat.
As the orc laid there trying desperately to deny death its claim on him he could see Lief standing above him through what seemed a dark distant tunnel. The elf was smiling. The orc gurgled on his blood and gasped as he cursed the boy.
Lief removed his dagger and roughly rubbed away the blood onto the fallen orcs cloths. He glanced around to see if the remaining orcs where anywhere nearby still. He could hear off in the distance the fighting and what seemed like screams from the last few surviving orcs. The Dallian duelists had assisted him in finishing this fight.
As he stood there among the wreckage and flames he felt this overwhelming sense of sadness. All of his family was gone, and he had nothing else to live for, what was he destined for. Why had the gods slain everyone yet spared him that fate.
“’Tis a curse upon me, a curse I shall bare and gladly take to my foe’s in battle. I will not rest until I’ve seen every orc and vile creature driven away from this land…” spoke Lief softly into the nights breeze. He was no hero but he was exactly what this realm needed, a warrior with nothing to lose.
The other elves where making there way towards him now from atop the hill just out of the tree line, no doubt to ask him of what had transpired this murderous night, when Lief seen something glimmering among the ashes that lined his sisters part of the house. It was her reddened rose pendant. It was said to give its wearer special abilities during the night in a time of need but Lief had never been a huge fan of myths and magical items. Yet something at his chest told him if he cast it aside he would regret it always.
“Aye, better to remember the pain and bare it strongly then to forget about it cousin.” Spoke a near by elf.
Lief only smirked at the comment. “How would you know of the pain I suffer, have you lost your entire family recently? Or are you simply stating old wise man sayings to make me feel better.” At the he began to walk away when the elf stepped clearly out of the shadows in front of him. He bore a scar across the entire right side of his face which resembled a brand of some sort.
“The orcs here where only a small portion of the ones that have been gathering in the west friend.” Spoke the elf putting enough emphasis on the word friend to let Lief know he had meant it to be sarcasm. “And yes I have. My father was taking from me nearly two winters ago during a hunting campaign. We along with three others from our clan where ambushed in the Tatguine Forrest. They slew all of them…and left me with this mark so I could carry along the word to the elders.”
“And what words where that?” asked Lief
The elf studied him very carefully before speaking again. “The siege has begun. Dratangen has returned.” He replied lowly.
The words burned away at Lief deeply. Dratangen, lord of the. The only person to ever crossover unto the depths of nine hells and be cast out. The most evil creature to walk the plains of this earth had come back from hell.
“What has happened?”