P
Psychedelic
Guest
Original poster
Orrin liked to think of himself as a cultured man, but that did not put his sensibilities above dirty tactics in war. It was one of the necessities of this conflict, in which both sides were ailing, and neither were willing to give ground. They were evenly matched, and unable to break the stalemate in which the races had been locked for many years. The dark elves of the mountain caves were numbering little more than five hundred, down from more than two thousand just a few years ago. They would not last long, even if they did win this war soon, the race was in dire straits, not that anything could be done about their numbers now.
The young noble elf had been sent out with a troop of half a dozen men, all lithely built and silent through the forested terrain in which their enemy dwelled. All were blessed with hair of various shades of white and grey. Orrin's own was pure ivory, falling to the small of his back, hanging loose behind his head as he trudged through the woodland. Grey eyes surveyed the route, aware that they were reaching the ambush site. The men fanned out, taking to the trees at this point.
Their dark skin and armour blended in well with the night air, and the rustling they made was minimal. They were not adept tree climbers, but had taken the time to learn the skill in order to ensure they were at least equal to their enemy. The seven men moved quickly through the trees, often leaping great distances from branch to branch, until finally they came to rest in varying positions around the enemy camp. The small fire had been quenched for the night, the diurnal men and women were sleeping, while the nocturnal aggressors were more than awake.
The officer of the group gave the order silently, and the men descended upon the camp. Orrin leaped from his position, wielding an ebony dagger, along with an intricately carved silver mace which he held in his right hand. The objective was to dispatch those deemed worthless, while a couple of the more informed members of the party would be taken prisoner, bled for their information, and then killed. It was a simple idea, and should go without any issue.
The young noble elf had been sent out with a troop of half a dozen men, all lithely built and silent through the forested terrain in which their enemy dwelled. All were blessed with hair of various shades of white and grey. Orrin's own was pure ivory, falling to the small of his back, hanging loose behind his head as he trudged through the woodland. Grey eyes surveyed the route, aware that they were reaching the ambush site. The men fanned out, taking to the trees at this point.
Their dark skin and armour blended in well with the night air, and the rustling they made was minimal. They were not adept tree climbers, but had taken the time to learn the skill in order to ensure they were at least equal to their enemy. The seven men moved quickly through the trees, often leaping great distances from branch to branch, until finally they came to rest in varying positions around the enemy camp. The small fire had been quenched for the night, the diurnal men and women were sleeping, while the nocturnal aggressors were more than awake.
The officer of the group gave the order silently, and the men descended upon the camp. Orrin leaped from his position, wielding an ebony dagger, along with an intricately carved silver mace which he held in his right hand. The objective was to dispatch those deemed worthless, while a couple of the more informed members of the party would be taken prisoner, bled for their information, and then killed. It was a simple idea, and should go without any issue.