A Change Of Scenery

[ThatWeirdGirl 432]

The chilled air was stale and rotten and carried the sounds of the dead and reanimated. Their groans echoed around the hall and through the cracks in the locked door a young high elf was hiding behind. Her fingernails were caked with a mixture of her own blood and dirt, and her eyes stared vacantly ahead. Her thin fingers had been gnawed on by rats and herself, and curled tightly around a large rock. Her lips twitched and shook as strangled noises escaped her mouth, struggling to form words with her mutilated tongue.

 

Her chiffon dress was ripped beyond repair, and her cheek was scratched and infected from a ghoul's nails. A partially devoured loaf of bread lay on the mattress, long gone stale. She could hear a ghoul shuffling outside, the dead man's groans low and lonesome, never failing to remind her he was her only company. She slowly blinked, her eyes vacant as if she were no longer a person, just a husk her soul had left behind too early.

 

The high elf's mind focused on ivory towers that seemed tall enough to caress the skies with their soft blue shingled roofs. The library where she had spent countless hours with her favorite books, forgetting the world around her. In her mind she was curled up with one comfortably, the sounds of a heated but hushed and muffled debate somewhere behind her. She wasn't living among the dead, the only protection being a rickety wooden door.

 

She wondered what she had done to deserve being tortured, the man who nearly killed her said his master demanded it. She figured he had needed corpses for his army of ghouls. She still had so much she wanted to do, she wasn't old enough to be lawfully an adult but she was too young to be considered a child. Her life had just begin by her standards, but seemingly it was being ripped from her grasp once more, and hoisted just above her reach.

 

She could remember yearning to be with her people as a child. She locked herself in her room, only coming out to eat, bathe and go to the library a few towns over. The not-child-not-woman had always admired her pure elders, even if she had never seen them. Their lives were filled with beauty, long debates over cups of tea, and silver towers she longed for. When she slept, she dreamed of living among them. And that life had been hers for a while, it was everything she had ever wanted.

 

Her gaze slowly turned to the doors, and her pale eyes narrowed. She could escape, even being killed and eaten would be preferable to spending years cowering in fear. She was a high elf, not a lowly animal to be caged and abused. She wasn't made for dark, musty lairs. She was made of gold and silver and iron. Her pale feet slowly reached down, and pressed against the cold stone. She gripped her stone, brow furrowing as adrenaline pumped in her veins. She was one of Larihei's blessed children, she would not tolerate this treatment.

 

She strode to the door, a newfound confidence in her posture as if a great weight had been removed. The ghoul groaned somewhere in the halls, echoing so she couldn't tell where. She had at least twenty seconds to get past the first door or get a better weapon, to kill the beast. She took a deep breath, getting ready. Was this a mistake? Would she re-

 

She didn't get a chance to finish her thought. She flung her foot forward, wood splintering and the door flying open.  She could hear the ghoul shuffle towards the sound, gargling hungrily. She spotted a chest, ripping it open and digging around hurriedly. A wide grin spread across her face as she found an axe, standing just as the ghoul reached her. It bit down onto her shoulder hard, and she used the top of the axe to knock it loose. She swung the axe madly, screaming wordlessly from a mix of fear, rage and pure adrenaline.

 

The ghoul gouged open gashes in her arms and down her face, snapping it's jaws around her forearm. She let out a shriek of pain, bringing the axe down hard, into the ghoul's brittle skull with a wet snap. It fell, bringing the axe with it and leaving the high elf bleeding heavily. She was a blessed child of Larihei, she had to keep moving. She planted a foot on the ghoul's neck, ripping the axe back and splatting more rotten blood on her face. She was made of gold, silver and iron with beautiful but sharp edges that glinted dangerously.

 

She turned to the door, swinging her bloodied axe. She ached dully, her muscles strained from the fight. She wasn't made for fighting, she was built for silver towers and long debates over cups of tea. She was made for long hours in a library, a life filled with magic and beauty. She swung her axe, wood splintering enough so she could kick the rest apart. She would need a new dress, and a good bath to wash the stench of blood and death away. She would need to wash away the sins she carried on her skin, from the blood to the infected scratches on her face.

 

She hurried up the steps, towards the surface. Her axe dripped blood, a mix between the ghoul's and her own. She reached the top of the stairs, shoving the wood up and out of the way. The smell of death and must cleared, making way for crisp, cool air and a few snowflakes. She crawled out of the hole, a gaping smile creeping across her face as she looked upwards.

The blessed child of Larihei thought for a long time, and her lips twitched and quivered, trying to form words with her mangled tongue. Strangled noises escaped her throat, but words finally formed. "M-my..." She croaked, voice cracking from lack of use,"My nahme ish... Alaish Thill'vulhn..." Alais started limping towards the city she remembered not too far away, axe leaving drips of crimson behind.

[Elad™ 560]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.