"Hey there sexy," Two burly men took long strides flanking the young,
black-haired boy. "What brings a pretty girl like yourself to these parts
of town?" It was not well lit in the back hallway of Greven's Bar & Inn, so
the half-elven boy was easily mistaken for an exceptionally slender figured
whore. Waist length, silky black hair was the only piece of the shadowy
figure the two men could determine, and as they sized him up, they figured
'she' would be an easy target for their desperation for pleasure.
Both men glanced at each other, maintaining neutral expressions only when staring at each other. The moment their focus strayed back upon the boy, their eyes glazed over with lust.
"What d' ya think Cid?" The first man, tall and masculine with closely cropped brunette hair, asked his colleague.
"Hell. I don't even think we'll need to pay for this twig," the second replied with the same glazed look in his eye. "She'll crack under the pressure and forget about money, let alone forget why she hadn't found us before." He stifled an oily laugh, slicking his own wavy black hair by licking his palm and combing it back.
Meanwhile, the 'girl' was standing with his back turned, arms crossed, completely ignoring both the men creeping up behind him, and the bothersome lock of hair that draped over his left diamond-blue eye. As the footsteps grew closer, he flinched for a moment, fearing that his past had come to haunt him in the form of another male figure, and as he could tell from the sound of their heartless voices, they much resembled the person who had treated him wrongly.
His instinct lashed out against reason for an instant as he reached for his blade and whirled, his long hair blending with the shadows as it followed him, cutting the air just in front of the two men. He came to his senses just in enough time to notice the look of surprise that stamped itself on their faces, as opposed to the glare of a man desperate to feed his pleasure. He knew all too well what the latter gaze meant, and it filled him with both fear and rage beyond what most any mortal soul could contain.
The brunette was the first, after a long pause, to stammer out what each of the two minds had been thinking. "W, what in all of he, hell?! Th, this girl's c, crazy!" His voice was shaking almost in comparison to the rest of his body. The half-elf decided to retain his thought to eviscerate them just because they were idiots. Evidently, they still had no idea that 'she' was a guy.
"I am sorry, gentlemen." He spoke in a voice that was strong of Elven accent, but clearly signified a deceptively kind voice. "You must have mistaken me for someone else. I am flattered you find me to be quite the effeminate figure, but as you can see... I'm a guy. Terribly sorry to lead you wrong."
The look of surprise faded from their eyes, even in spite of the finely crafted longsword being waved at their faces
"A guy!?" Confusion cast over the black haired male's face before turning to anger. "You stupid, deceptive bastard! Kill him! After we get through with you pretty boy, we're gonna make you wish you were a girl!" With the last snap of his oily voice, he leapt backward, his slicked back hair now falling over his face a trifle, soaked with sweat from previous fear, and drew his own blade, whilst his partner wielded a massive axe. Kris gaped at the blade of the latter for a moment, as he realized it was easily twenty times as wide as his near parchment-thin waist. However, he shook his dread off and looked away in time to dodge the rusted edge of his other opponent's greatsword. There was a loud smash as the sod walls of the storage shack in back the inn were crushed with the hammering blow the sword could have dealt to him. The half-elven Bard took his initiative to swirl around again, his hair once again resembling that of a gothic setting, following him closely. He thrust his blade out as it struck something with a faint clatter of metal against metal, and then the satisfactory sound of soft flesh gurgling around his steel.
As he drew his crimson stained blade from the swordsman, he ducked only to see his first opponent's comrade decapitate his own partner as the head rolled to the hard gravel. He took note of a hint of grievance from the axe-wielder, but dared a glance into his enemy's eyes, which told him that his opponent would grieve later. Completely ignoring his friend's random spurts of blood that were drenching his armor, he swung wildly with his axe, utterly destroying anything that flickered with the breath of the wind.
It didn't take long for the Bard to realize that his opponent's occupation had been a Bbarbarian, and that his rage had been evoked.
The axe swung from side to side, drifting smoothly, but recklessly through all angles of the corridor which was rapidly coming to a dead end. He closed his eyes and waited for a silent death wish to be granted, although he had not wished to die in this manner, and embrace the consequences inevitable.
To both his pleasure and secretive dismay, the thrashing of the greataxe and the howling fury of the barbarian silenced itself with a stifled gasp. Crimson sprang itself forward from his sneered lips, as the barbarian turned to see his attacker, but did not get the chance to before two arrows flew forth through each of his eyes, and a third caught him in the throat, consequently ending his scream of pain.
Kris peered up from his self preserved shell a moment later, as he had curled back up, expecting to die at the hands of the assassin whom destroyed what would have been the half-elf's death. To his surprise however, he saw scarlet-wine stained, ice-blue eyes gazing comfortably at him, and appeared to be looking him over. Although he felt violated in a way, he somehow knew that the figure was not going to harm him. He glanced past his temporary loath and savior, only to see several daggers imbued into the barbarian's back, and the arrows completely covering his crew-cut brown hair almost completely with deep red blood. He glanced once more at the carnage of which his sardonic comment had started, then back at the assassin, and passed out.
Before his mind was consumed in darkness however, he couldn't help but feel afraid that this new person would harm him in the same way he had been years ago.
The elven hero who had saved the half elf looked at him with complete awe. A sense of both duty to protect, and love crept over his mind, and he unsuccessfully tried to shake it loose. He turned his attention back to the former victim, and began caressing his hair gently, watching the slow, comforting breathing of the Bard as he slept. "Kris Valete, could it be you? Could you be what the prophecy has spoken of?"
~End Chapter~
Both men glanced at each other, maintaining neutral expressions only when staring at each other. The moment their focus strayed back upon the boy, their eyes glazed over with lust.
"What d' ya think Cid?" The first man, tall and masculine with closely cropped brunette hair, asked his colleague.
"Hell. I don't even think we'll need to pay for this twig," the second replied with the same glazed look in his eye. "She'll crack under the pressure and forget about money, let alone forget why she hadn't found us before." He stifled an oily laugh, slicking his own wavy black hair by licking his palm and combing it back.
Meanwhile, the 'girl' was standing with his back turned, arms crossed, completely ignoring both the men creeping up behind him, and the bothersome lock of hair that draped over his left diamond-blue eye. As the footsteps grew closer, he flinched for a moment, fearing that his past had come to haunt him in the form of another male figure, and as he could tell from the sound of their heartless voices, they much resembled the person who had treated him wrongly.
His instinct lashed out against reason for an instant as he reached for his blade and whirled, his long hair blending with the shadows as it followed him, cutting the air just in front of the two men. He came to his senses just in enough time to notice the look of surprise that stamped itself on their faces, as opposed to the glare of a man desperate to feed his pleasure. He knew all too well what the latter gaze meant, and it filled him with both fear and rage beyond what most any mortal soul could contain.
The brunette was the first, after a long pause, to stammer out what each of the two minds had been thinking. "W, what in all of he, hell?! Th, this girl's c, crazy!" His voice was shaking almost in comparison to the rest of his body. The half-elf decided to retain his thought to eviscerate them just because they were idiots. Evidently, they still had no idea that 'she' was a guy.
"I am sorry, gentlemen." He spoke in a voice that was strong of Elven accent, but clearly signified a deceptively kind voice. "You must have mistaken me for someone else. I am flattered you find me to be quite the effeminate figure, but as you can see... I'm a guy. Terribly sorry to lead you wrong."
The look of surprise faded from their eyes, even in spite of the finely crafted longsword being waved at their faces
"A guy!?" Confusion cast over the black haired male's face before turning to anger. "You stupid, deceptive bastard! Kill him! After we get through with you pretty boy, we're gonna make you wish you were a girl!" With the last snap of his oily voice, he leapt backward, his slicked back hair now falling over his face a trifle, soaked with sweat from previous fear, and drew his own blade, whilst his partner wielded a massive axe. Kris gaped at the blade of the latter for a moment, as he realized it was easily twenty times as wide as his near parchment-thin waist. However, he shook his dread off and looked away in time to dodge the rusted edge of his other opponent's greatsword. There was a loud smash as the sod walls of the storage shack in back the inn were crushed with the hammering blow the sword could have dealt to him. The half-elven Bard took his initiative to swirl around again, his hair once again resembling that of a gothic setting, following him closely. He thrust his blade out as it struck something with a faint clatter of metal against metal, and then the satisfactory sound of soft flesh gurgling around his steel.
As he drew his crimson stained blade from the swordsman, he ducked only to see his first opponent's comrade decapitate his own partner as the head rolled to the hard gravel. He took note of a hint of grievance from the axe-wielder, but dared a glance into his enemy's eyes, which told him that his opponent would grieve later. Completely ignoring his friend's random spurts of blood that were drenching his armor, he swung wildly with his axe, utterly destroying anything that flickered with the breath of the wind.
It didn't take long for the Bard to realize that his opponent's occupation had been a Bbarbarian, and that his rage had been evoked.
The axe swung from side to side, drifting smoothly, but recklessly through all angles of the corridor which was rapidly coming to a dead end. He closed his eyes and waited for a silent death wish to be granted, although he had not wished to die in this manner, and embrace the consequences inevitable.
To both his pleasure and secretive dismay, the thrashing of the greataxe and the howling fury of the barbarian silenced itself with a stifled gasp. Crimson sprang itself forward from his sneered lips, as the barbarian turned to see his attacker, but did not get the chance to before two arrows flew forth through each of his eyes, and a third caught him in the throat, consequently ending his scream of pain.
Kris peered up from his self preserved shell a moment later, as he had curled back up, expecting to die at the hands of the assassin whom destroyed what would have been the half-elf's death. To his surprise however, he saw scarlet-wine stained, ice-blue eyes gazing comfortably at him, and appeared to be looking him over. Although he felt violated in a way, he somehow knew that the figure was not going to harm him. He glanced past his temporary loath and savior, only to see several daggers imbued into the barbarian's back, and the arrows completely covering his crew-cut brown hair almost completely with deep red blood. He glanced once more at the carnage of which his sardonic comment had started, then back at the assassin, and passed out.
Before his mind was consumed in darkness however, he couldn't help but feel afraid that this new person would harm him in the same way he had been years ago.
The elven hero who had saved the half elf looked at him with complete awe. A sense of both duty to protect, and love crept over his mind, and he unsuccessfully tried to shake it loose. He turned his attention back to the former victim, and began caressing his hair gently, watching the slow, comforting breathing of the Bard as he slept. "Kris Valete, could it be you? Could you be what the prophecy has spoken of?"
~End Chapter~
