Battle In the Faydark (part one)
Coughing on the black smoke blinding him, Taureth stumbled through the remains of the chaotic battlefield spread among the great trees. Orcish corpses with faces still grimacing horribly lay entangled with fairer high elven forms clad in the same shining silver armor as the koada’dal whom they tripped, their life’s blood marring the beauty of the picture. The cloth covered arms of the arcane casters crossed in a macabre embrace, light and dark skin mingling on the ground.
The white haired paladin staggered past a startled looking corpse of a tiny wood elf woman who hung from a great oak, still pinned by the multitude of arrows piercing her from braided brown hair to the legs of her worn rawhide armor. Taureth swung his bloody blade almost casually, slicing through the torn leather armor of the dark elf woman lurching off the ground at him, her knife tightly clutched. Unsteadily he walked up a small rise, pausing as he was stifled by the billowing smoke.
Tunare’s Teeth, have they set Felwithe itself on fire?, he wondered. Gazing around with watering eyes, Taureth strained his vision but found no gleam of the city’s white walls. Only the clearing of corpses ringed in the thinning black smoke was visible. Or maybe the Faydark itself… For a moment he paused, wondering which might be a worse option. As the sounds of battle from the east filtered to his elven hearing the paladin shook himself.
He walked wearily east, his plate mail armor seeming to grow heavier with each step the exhausted elf took. As the koada’dal reached the edge of the still raging battle a gasp of pain escaped him as he felt his life being ripped from his body. Spinning to his left, Taureth found himself facing a grinning, ebony haired and skinned tier’dal man. The emblem of Neriak’s shadowknight guild gleamed prominently on crimson armor darkened by dirt and blood.
"Mistake, tier’dal," Taureth growled swinging his long sword. The dark elf brought his shield up to block the blow barely in time, rattled by the bone-jarring hit. The dark knight’s stuttered call to the dead was suddenly silenced as the flat of the paladin’s blade slammed into his throat. As he tried to recover his footing, Taureth again raised his sword.
"Wrong," the high elf announced calmly, as if correcting an erring student. The word ended in a surprised gasp and a gurgling choke as blood gushed from Taureth’s mouth. He began to turn as the spear in his side pushing upwards until the mithril tip crested in his mouth.
The world grew bleary around Taureth as he sank to the ground clutching at the spear as if to draw it out. Laughing in malicious amusement above him was a dark elf warrior wearing nearly the same face as the shadowknight. As the high elf crumpled the dark elf stepped into the dying elf’s line of sight to ensure he would be clearly seen. Reaching down he twisted the spear then brutally ripped it out showering the area with his victim’s blood.
Taureth Paladinson, koada’vie defender of Felwithe watched the world around him run together as a roaring filled his ears. As he fell into darkness he heard the laughter cease and a single word was spoken in a voice of poisoned honey.
"Wrong."
A/N Don't own any of Norrath, including places and people and any other Sony property, this is just a bit of fan fiction, so please don't sue. Thank you to Dreadskull for letting me borrow your shadowknight, even if he is unnamed (thus far).