Thwack! The arrow dug into the tree directly next to him. The elf, dancing like a fox, sprung to the left and fired his own bow in return. Dead on. The arrow ripped through the Marauders only weak spot, the neck. The Imperial fell to the ground, clutching his throat. A disgusting gurgling sound was the last to escape his dying lips. The elf, clad head-to-toe in dark robes, walked over to the corpse and retrieved his arrow. He wiped the blood from it and replaced it back in his quiver. He took a glance around for any other potential enemies, and then silently continued on.
The forest was dense in this part of the West Weald, but the experienced elf had no problem picking his way through to the abandoned fort. His goal was to fight, or sneak his way through, and assassinate the Warlord here. The elf knew that he would be the only soul left alive in the abandoned fort once his work was done. On his back was a fine elven bow. It glowed, and was magically enchanted. Same as with the sword that hung at his hips,it was an Akavirian Katana, and strange it was that this Dark Elf had one. Underneath his thick black robes was an even blacker set of armor, leather armor, lightweight and magically enchanted to be as strong as steel. The elf was well prepared for his job, and was no stranger to dealing death.
He made his way to the door, and entered silently. It opened up to a large dark corridor with torches on the walls. At the end was a fork turning right and left. The elf nimbly crept down the corridor, but paused when he heard a soft rustling around the corner. He stopped and carefully knocked an arrow into his bow. The rustling came closer, and then a steel clad marauder walked by. He didn't take a right down the corridor the elf was in, but instead kept walking forward. The elf went to the juncture and took aim at the back of the Orcs head. Foolish creatures, too proud to wear a helmet; the elf laughed as the Orc fell silently to the floor, an arrow implanted into the back of his spinal column. He repeated the arrow retrieving process, not content with wasting a single arrow on these scum.
He chose to go the way that the Orc had come from. As silent as the deepest night, the elf stalked through the corridor. He heard voices up a head in a fire-lit chamber. For this encounter the elf chose his blade, he strung his bow on his back and crept carefully forward. His back up against the wall, the elf chanced a quick glance around the corner, and he quietly chuckled to himself. Too easy. The two Imperial Marauders were side by side, backs to the elf. They were sitting at a table, enjoying a meal and drink. The elf stalked closer to his prey, and with lightning speed he slipped his blade under the throat of the male and quickly dispatched of him. The female reacted quickly and was up with her blade drawn instantly, but the elf was quicker. He launched himself into an intricate, and impossibly fast, attack. The elf slapped the blade of the woman to the left, putting her off-balance, and then he spun around to the right and slapped the woman in the side of the head with the flat of his blade. She fell to the floor unconscious, and the elf ended her life with a quick thrust of his sword.
The elf came to the last room of the vast underground ruins. It was a large chamber that had an upper balcony on which, the elf, was crouched in the shadows observing the room. Five people sat at a table eating, four were covered neck-to-toe in steel armor. The one had shining Dwarven armor and was most certainly the elf's target. From his perch the elf chuckled to himself once again. Too easy. This wasn't the first time that the elf had been sent alone into a place packed full of rogues and outlaws. He had come prepared for just this thing. Silently, he pulled his small pack from his back, and pulled out something that was wrapped in cloth. He unloosed the tie, and pulled out four glowing red glass arrows. He carefully picked one up and notched his deadly bow once again. The elf then took aim, but not at one of the marauders or the Warlord, he instead aimed directly in the middle of all of them. He loosed the arrow, and as soon as the arrow hit, a huge ball of flame erupted from it throwing back the four marauders. Their lifeless bodies hit the wall and fell to the floor, all but one. The Warlord stood up, casually as if nothing had happened, and smiled at the elf; then he simply disappeared. The stunned elf searched the room, but found nothing. It was the last chamber and there was nowhere to go, but back. The elf cursed, loudly. The Warlord is long gone by now, and I'm not going to get paid. N'wah! Immediately he began sprinting back out into the West Weald, vowing to find out more about his latest mission, and where the Warlord disappeared to?.
this is intended to be a prologue sorta thing, and i will continue if there's any interest. if i totally blow at writing, well feel free to tell me. hahah