Disclaimer: What you recognize is not mine. What you don't, is.
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Introduction: Raid
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Eithryn Danoi observed from a crouched position. The Ogre overseeing the humans seemed to be in the most perfect position; alone, relaxed, and thoroughly focused on abusing the slaves. With a motion of his hand, Eithryn signaled his unit's advance to the tree line.
The gem mine was small, had been chosen because of that fact. The elven captain stood up and unsheathed his sword, his warriors doing the same. Forward they leapt, rushing the overseers' tarp, humans scrambling away from them. The Ogre snarled as he saw them, the magic around him dying as his lips ceased to move, as his head thumped to the dirt.
Unmoved, Eithryn called out to his fellows. "Take the food back to camp. Pick up the stones." He toed the Ogre's body. It smelled of perfume. "Remove his weapons too." The captain walked around the excavation as his men followed his directions. The mine was shallow, filled with puddles and slaves chained to stakes. The humans were nonexistent to the elves. As he stood at the edge of the pit, one of the slaves nearby approached. He lifted his manacles to the elf. "Aren't you going to release us?" Eithryn ignored him. The human got closer. The elven captain could smell his filthy perspiration. "Hey elf, I'm talking to you. Are you going to release us?"
The warriors were done. Eithryn walked towards the trees. The human stood there. "Hey elf! Come back here and let us go!" The elves still receded, the tree line absorbing them into the greenery. As the quarry disappeared behind them, Eithryn heard a final muffled "The gods damn you!" before the chirp of the birds returned and his shoulder muscles relaxed.
Later that morning Eithryn sat at the edge of the camp ring, staring at a thick handled dagger. It had been the Ogre's. It was beautiful, despite the harsh lines and the menacing blade. The steel was unblemished; the handle was engraved with a simple, forceful pattern. The cruelty of it made Eithryn stare, made him desire to use it. He had long ago learned to understand the source of these emotions. He had long known that the magic infused in many Ogre articles evoked the desire for violence. With a sigh, he sheathed the dagger and put it aside. The elf surveyed his fellows.
As he did, his thoughts turned inward. At this very moment an observer would have been granted a rare insight of the elf captain. He had a flowing beauty about him. His bones seemed to meld together to make his face appear without edges or planes. At other times, when Eithryn walked, it was in a single motion; he moved forward as a petal moved downward in the air. Relentless, and yet beautifully graceful. Bright green eyes, pale skin, blonde hair. His exterior was the norm for an elf. When he slept, he was as ordinary as an elf could be. Awake, there was something in his eyes. There was something in his movements. Awake, he was as ordinary as a pink diamond. Awake, Eithryn Danoi was something out of a dream.
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To be continued…