Drulissa's Domain

 The door slammed shut. Grakdar stood there, the darkness around him, the cold stone walls and dirt floor pressing against his body. He could smell the fear of the two elves and the stench of the demon outside, and he knew he had no choice. "It is okay," Grakdar said, his deep voice echoing in the darkness. "How is this okay?" Hope said. "The demons can't get us," Laira replied. "The burial wards will keep them out." "But we are in here," Grakdar sighed. "With little food and water. Best case, we die here with a bunch of elven corpses." Hope kicked him. "Ouch!" "Stop being so negative. I'm tired of your gloomy attitude." "Sorry. Being trapped in an Elven burial mound with a pair of elves has me on edge." "Well, I'm an elf, and I'm on your side. So, get used to it," Hope said. "I suppose you are right," Grakdar replied. "Of course I...

 There are moments when I wonder why I am even here. A fight, a battle well past over, and I stand on a field of battle long devoid of life or anyone who cares. The sun has fled the heavens and not so much as a single cloud remains to muffle the sound. Nothing but silence lies before me like an ocean of blood, and in its midst stand tall of not corpses, but memories lost to time. I see them now — some are friends, others foes. Some have been loved by many, while others die alone each day with only their thoughts for company. But they all share one thing that sets them apart from those around them; something that cannot be mistaken for anything else, no matter how hard you may try. They stand tall and proud, yet they bear the scars of what was done to them on this very ground. They are dead. In this world perhaps, but live on in countless others. A life removed from this reality to continue in another place and another time. And I stand here in a field of memories which hang...

 Tyler spotted the group of dark elf refugees on a small trail to the west. He pointed at them and kicked the dragon Vaishali’s scales to get her attention. A turn of the beast’s head and she nodded, having seen them as well. Tyler held on tight as the dragon’s massive wings billowed out, the leathery hide inflating and stretching against the wind buffet as they fell, acting as massive sails of leathery cloth would slow their descent. They landed with a thud on the trail and Tyler hopped off, the paladin’s sword in hand. “I am Woodsman Tyler, holder of the Sword of Light!” The name he made for the sword attracted a curious glance from the dragon, and what he saw as a sly smirk. “I am the husband to be of Ophelia Kya Leigh, the sorceress among you who has fled and seeks to open the Waystones! I am here to help you!” The dark elf refugees, as one, turned and fled, melting away into the forest. A few stayed behind, weapons raised, covering the others’ retreat. Tyler blinked. “...

 Darkness crept around his vision. He felt his life draining away. This was the end. The dragon heaved, and the spell cast upon the two felt powerful enough to slay the beast, let alone a simple man. The face of his dark elven executioner, Darigoth, twisted in a mask of hate and rage. The skin on the wicked man’s face seemed to stretch over his skull in a smile only death itself could admire. Tyler felt the night come down upon him. But the sun refused to set. Something felt wrong; the light remained around the spot where the sword entered the dragon’s body. Was the dragon’s magic somehow protecting him? He tightened his grip on the blade, and the darkness pushed back. The dragon Vaishali heaved and tried to pull away from where he had tied the rope to the sword’s hilt. The rope snapped and jerked into the air, nearly taking him with it. The sword was pulled from the dragon’s body, spraying him with hot blood. His entire body felt numb, but the space and air around ...

 The sword was stuck in her side so deeply he could not pull it out. He tied a rope to the hilt, praying the blade did not cut the hemp, and tied the other end to the trunk of the most giant, most deeply rooted tree on the hilltop. She kept a close eye on him as he worked, and he put his weapons and his shield far out of reach of the area he worked in. He worked with a wounded animal and kept his movements slow and deliberate. He also announced everything he was going to do before he did it. He kept securing the rope and tied another loop to the hilt, securing it with a rope spiral. “So, if I may ask, how did you get this stuck in you?” She sighed, the rumble shaking him to his feet. “Paladin. On a winged horse. She was trying to kill me, and we were both airborne. We collided, and her sword struck its mark. She fell from her mount, and her horse dived after her. I howled in pain and fled, knowing I was wounded.” He nodded. “And how long has this been in here? So much blood...

 “Good morning!” he shouted. The dragon sleeping at the top of the hill opened her eyes and blinked in disbelief at the foolish man standing beneath her. Tyler smiled at the magnificent beast sitting atop the hill above him. Dragons were beautiful, like standing in front of a raging forest fire or funnel cloud coming straight at you. Deadly but unique forces of nature. “May I use your name, Miss?” Tyler shouted, standing upon a large boulder down the hill. The dragon blinked again, her rasp-like voice cutting through the air like grinding stones making sounds into words. “Does it matter if you are dead, insect?” “Vaishali, is it?” Tyler smiled, his arms to each side. “That is a dragon’s name, lovely. It has this ring of death and destruction to it as well. May I ask who gave you the name?” Vaishali’s eyelids lowered, and her upper lip pulled off her teeth. “My mother.” He raised his hand as if he meant her no harm and turned as he sat upon a large stone. He kept his b...

 “Dragon? What the hell?” He pulled the horse to a stop, and they hid from the sky under the branches of a tree. The sun continued to fall, the shadows growing longer, and he held no wish to fight a dragon at night. Or, for that matter, to fight a dragon at all. Even with magic, they would die. He peered through the lattice of branches at the circling beast in the sky. “Do you know about this?” “Vaishali is her name,” Ophelia said as she clung to his arm, “she has been known to roost on that hill when she senses trouble, in times she can take advantage of for her gain. They call her the Black Vulture.” “You are serious, right?” “Do I look like I am joking?” “Fair point.” She nodded. “There were once battles between dark elves and mercenaries to control this road. She would swoop in and finish off the survivors of battles, loot them for anything of value for her horde. Or food for her children. She takes, scavenges, and preys upon the weak.” “We are not the best ...

When I see her, I imagine sitting across from her in a classy bathtub, the type which stands on four legs and two can share. I am the dark elf, and she is the human female with deliciously blonde hair. The tub has an elegant faucet and spout, with flowers floating about. We've been chatting for some time now, but she has something vital to say. She's looking me straight in the eyes and hesitating before opening her mouth—and I know just what she wants to say. "I love you," she tells me. And then I would reply, as the dark elf: "And I love you more." She plays in the water, her fair-skinned foot brushing the skin between my breasts, teasing, and touching them with her toes lost to the suds and hot water. I am aroused yet ashamed at how deeply she affects me. My fingers twitch, and I must resist the urge to cover myself with a towel. She sees this; she knows all too well how much I desire her. But although I'm still embarrassed about my feelings, I am no...

They were never going home. They had ridden a short while to a nice place, secluded off the main road, in a sparse clearing he was sure would never be found by those passing by. And he buried the dead. No chance at resurrection, my brothers. I shall see you in the next life. I am sorry. Ten graves for ten fine men, humans and dwarves, one elf, one of orcish blood, all brothers. Ophelia rested beside the cart, sleeping most of the day and waking up to watch him dig the next grave before drifting off again. He collapsed beside her when the final man was laid to rest. She rubbed his shoulder and offered him some of the last of their food. “You need to eat.” He nodded, eyes still closed, and held the food in his hand as he let out a sigh held inside for far too long. “Three days travel?” She nodded. “That is how long we had to go to reach the bend where you feel the ambush is, but we wasted an entire day burying your friends.” He stared at the beautiful spot he ch...

 They hid together. Four dark elves, all of them male, wandered around their camp. They spoke in the dark elf tongue, which he did not understand; the lyrical and wisping words had this darkly beautiful quality, reminding him of the sounds shadows would make if they could speak. Ophelia’s eyes edged full of panic, and they darted around the scene from figure to figure. He kept a reassuring hand on her was all he could do. The elves were armed and armored, with the black scale and ring mail common to their kind, designed less for protection but complete silence, yet the black, unholy metals were still alien and stronger than dwarven steel. Swords and weapons were drawn among all of them, the wickedly curved and styles longswords still straight, but with cuts and curves inside the blades to make them look more like fancy fish skinning knives than swords, and the steel was marbled with that same black metal in hypnotizing, darkly beautiful patterns along the lengths of the bla...

Grakdar was a tracker who was good at following game trails and animal paths. His keen nose helped him to identify the different types of creatures in the area. Grakdar was also an orc, and he had a knack for fighting. But demons were not something he wanted to fight. As Grakdar trudged along the forest floor, carrying Hope in his arms, he tried not to think about the demons. He tried not to think about how strong they were, how fast they were, and how much damage they could inflict. He tried not to think about their claws, fangs, and razor-sharp horns. But the images of his slain wife and son returned to him, and the pain in his heart was almost unbearable. He couldn't stop thinking about the demons. But he kept moving. Grakdar followed the trail of the creatures fleeing the area. He knew the animals were running for their lives and hoped he would find safety if he followed their path. Grakdar looked over his shoulder. Laira followed him, keeping up as best she...