Slice, Dice and Elven LoreMature

Sigurd cut aside one goblin, then a second and a third with a swift flick of the blade in his right hand. A flicker of blood glanced across his vision, with a small trickle falling from his resting blades. 

He pivoted clockwise and ducked, dodging the incoming swinging axe of a desperate goblin. Swinging downwards before rocketing up, he gutted the creature with his blades. In the brief moment of peace he was granted, the Elf sheathed the weapons, so that they once again formed a powerful staff. 

With his hand halfway down the weapon he swung, catching a running goblin just above the eye, and with a clatter it fell. Not moving, still. They began to circle the Elf, four around him, then five, before the number doubled to ten. 

The staff swung, snapping the legs of three goblins, as a nearing breathless Sigurd spat the words. "By my fathers home, where are they all coming from?" 

The words traveled past a preoccupied Halfling. He ripped at the oncoming creatures with ferocious lunges with his rapiers. Four had fallen since the reinforcements arrived, but more kept on flooding in. 

Racious roared over the sound of metal on metal, he blocked the blows from the murderous  animals. "Sigurd we cannot possibly ho..." 

The Elf charged forward at two goblins that concealed the Halfling from view. He upper-cutted the pair with a two handed lift of the staff, snapping the necks back violently. The Halfling came into view, perching on one knee holding his neck. 

Encroaching around him were several goblins, each eager, but nervous, to get any closer. The first arrow whistled into the eye of the nearest one to Racious, throwing the creature back, cold. 

Two more were skewered through the head, the first was pierced just above its ear, the second received a third nostril. The Elf cried out towards Racious. "Why are you down?" Sigurd let off another arrow, cutting through the armour of a goblin, killing him and consequentially dropping its broadsword onto its ally in a pace ahead, crushing the skull. 

"Rise Halfling." The Elf, now by Racious side, put an arm under the little ones shoulder, hoisting him up. 

"Its a poisonous dart Sigurd." 

The Elf reached down, keeping one eye on the circling goblins, he grabbed the dart and licked the tip lightly. Allowing for a moment of thought, a flash of fear took over his face. "This is an Aure Poison my friend, we must move swiftly." 

A purple bruise was already forming along the Halflings jaw, where the dart had connected.  The Halfling must have seen the fear in the Elves eyes, for now he too felt fearful. "How long?" Racious murmured. 

"Long enough." 

Sigurd rose, and lifting his bow high, whispered into the drawn arrow. "Isse Silmo ailo, lumna kuile." The Elf released the arrow, it whistled to a nearby tree and stuck in its bark. 

Racious coughed. "You misse..." 

The branches of the tree exploded outwards with a numbing bang, ripping the goblins in two as if great razors had sliced down through them as in a Dwarven feast. Blood erupted, spewing over the landscape. 

"I never miss little one."

"Could you not have done that ten minutes previous Elf?"

"It pains the forest to use it in such a manner, it is for unbearable situations only. Elven magic comes at a cost." The Elves eyes dropped to his hand, a new scar forming above his index knuckle. "A small cost, but small costs build to fortunes."

Sigurd called for the horses. He hoisted the Halfling onto his horse. "We must ride swiftly," the Elf nodded onwards and slapped the Halfings horse into gear, "we have no time to waste. Minnis Fanyare is not as near as we might hope." 


Racieus had blurred vision when his weary eyes were first set upon the Elven city of Minnis Fanyare. He could make out white marble, and the smell of foreign scents echoed through his disillusioned mind. 

Nine towers stretched into the higher epsilons of the sky, until it appeared that the clouds held them aloft. The nearest three were cast and carved from an ancient Elven recipe for military grade glass. They reflected the suns light through the multitude of different coloured panes. Reds, blues, greens.

The common rumour, amoung non-Elven folk, was that the towers were created after the Elven Elders captured a rainbow, and to contain it they divided it into three, and sealed it into towers. Harnessing the awesome power of nature in these magical towers was, in fact, not just a rumour. But that was only one cavern of many secrets and misleadings in the many tunnels filled with Elven lore. 

Sigurd spoke over to the Halfling, who was trotting along on his horse. "Racieus, try raise your head. Take in the view of the city, not many Halflings have the honour of setting foot here." 

The little one coughed. "I'm not walking you fool. My feet have yet to touch the ground." 

The Elf stuttered a laugh. "It's glad to see you haven't lost your wit." Sigurd waved his hand high, "the infirmary is just ahead of us." Two female Elves walked calmly from the infirmary towards the pair. 

"We will take care of him Lord Villentious. He will be in the company of good health soon." 

"Thank you my dears." Sigurd nodded in the direction of the Halfling, "we will speak later my friend." 

Racieus could only utter a single, confused word. "Lord?" 

The End

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