A Bad End for a Bad Elf

[Shalashask 1112]

A Bad End for a Bad Elf

Spoiler

 

Elrach lent his head up against the hard and musty wall of the cell. Its coldness offered little relief for the gash he had sustained hours earlier. The elf had grossly overestimated the strength of his knightly mask, as a Courlandic blade made quick work of the thin scrap metal that it was fashioned from. As he ran a finger underneath his wound, the dried blood spiralled under his finger nail before flaking off onto the already bloody floor. It gave him a little nudge of reassurance that he would live long enough to face the Courlandic gallows as opposed to bleeding out ten feet underground.

Readjusting himself he sent his hand down to fondle his belt. The guards had confiscated all his weapons and stripped him of his plate, but it appeared that they had left him with one of his most prized possessions. His hand firmly gripped the instrument and tugged at it lightly, releasing it from its leather binding. As he brought it upwards his fingers found themselves in a familiar position either side of it, and he pursed his cracked lips.

Despite his concussion, Elrach found his pan fluting skills intact. The light and cheerful notes resonated in the dungeon walls, contrasting with his bleak situation. Although the sound caused his head to pulsate against his cranium, it brought himself back to more joyful times when he was just a simple thug in Felsen. For a moment, he could taste ale pouring down throat, the warmth of a tavern fire and the weight of someone else’s coin in his pocket.

As he continued to play, his notes began to be accompanied by the merry jingle of bells and the pitter patter of playful footsteps. He lowered his flutes, raising his gaze to door of his cell. The lock mechanism clicked and the door was pushed open. The torch illuminated a figures face, and it was not one Elrach had been expecting. Instead of the Courlandic tabard and plate armour it was a jester outfit of red and green. Elrach let his pan flutes clatter onto the ground as the jester pranced forward, the bells on his hat dominating the sound in the cell. Its footsteps made little sound as the jester began closing the gap between the two. Perhaps it was some Courlandic tradition to receive a jester’s routine as a last rite in Courland, the elf thought. But he was wrong.

The Jester towered over the slumped body of Elrach. Its glee, bloodshot stare met Elrach’s defeated and quivering eyes. Elrach found his shirt being tugged upwards towards the Jester by a pair of surprisingly steady and smooth hands. The mouth of the Jester opened, and a smell of peppermint and bacon entered the elf’s nostrils. It began moving closer and closer to his face, before the Jester’s jaw twitched, sending his teeth down onto Elrach’s face. The elf yelled as his brain scrambled to assess the situation. Without realising it himself, he launched his forehead forward towards the Jesters jaw. Pain echoed through Elrach’s head, the impact sending his brain to bounce against the inside of his skull.

The Jester appeared unphased, as it remained stationary for a second to observe Elrach’s pain. As the elf groaned and tussled in his corner of his cell he could hear the bells of the jester descending towards him again. He kicked and flailed in all directions, but the Jester’s path was fixed. Its teeth found Elrach’s neck, and then its jaw slammed down. The elf felt the stream of warm blood first, and the cold air of the dungeon entering his neck. He thrashed about, the blood sluicing the dirt that he lay on.

As Elrach began making a meagre attempt to stop the blood, the Jester skipped over to the door and left, the sound of his bells slowly fading. Elrach continued tussling with his wound, his hand making for a poor replacement of a bandage. The sound of the Jesters merry bells returned, but this time they were not alone. The sound of heavy plate could be heard clanking down the footsteps. As the Jester reappeared in the doorway he was accompanied by a huge figure. Elrach could not tell what was the colour of his tabard or the metal of his armour, his eyes were beginning to fail him. The Jester flung a finger towards the doomed elf, and the figure followed. Even combined, Elrach’s pan flute and the jester’s bells would not be able to compete with the figures footsteps. Every step resulted in a deathly thud that absorbed all other sound.

Elrach began to attempt to steady his breathing. He didn’t want to go out like a helpless rat cornered in the cell, but that was the way he was going to go. His eyes betrayed him, and seeped out his fear and cowardice. As the figure reached the elf its eyes glowed like ember, the light breaching out of its twisted helmet. It moved its blade backwards in one movement, moved it forward in another, and Elrach was gone.

 

Spoiler

Had fun playing Elrach, enjoy my shitty writing.

 

[lawnmowerman 3040]

Vitallius welcomes his brother into the Seven Skies.

[Proddy 2415]

Robert of Anjou overhears about the would-be assassin’s demise and the manner of his execution, uttering only three simple words to describe his thoughts on the Elf’s death.

“Cruel and unusual.”

[Reckless Banzai Screamer 15456]

"So it goes." Rakim says after not hearing from Elrach for sometime. He wasn't sure if Elrach ran off or Elrach had met his demise. Regardless - Rakim took a moment to remember Elrach fondly before going back to work.

[gandalfo 1452]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

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