Descension
They were fools to come here alone. He tore a path through the brush, the branches and trees slapping into his face, leaving it full of tiny cuts. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his comrade, Lanach, right behind him, yelling at him frantically to move. More stinging branches and briars ripped into his face and hands as he streaked by. The pastel shades of sunset blanched the forest and made way for the darkness that was soon to come. And thus they are fools. They had not planned to face the Dark Elves in their element. They had not planned for night to come upon them so quickly.
We are all dead fools!! Phalen raged at himself for going along with the war party. Lanach said it would be simple, that it was nothing more than a few young Drow dogs on a training mission. Glory would be theirs, he said. It would be for the glory of the High Elves. And when the twilight came upon them, they were all dead men! Out of fifteen, they had been reduced to six within a matter of moments! Moments!! Phalen and the others had scattered to regroup. He could not tell if any of the others were alive, all except for Lanach, who ran frantically after him. Both of them gleaned through the forest blindly like madmen.
Lanach staggered. Against all his gut instinct to run, Phalen whipped around and ran towards his friend. Lanach stumbled forward to try and flee once more, but fell down again, tripping over his own feet. Phalen finally reached him and yanked his arm, trying to pull him to his feet. His friend screamed and he felt a light spatter of warmth on his face. Not realizing what it was, he pulled Lanach along a few feet before finally getting a glimpse of two daggers poking out of his back. One jutted out of the rear of his skull, while the other had hit right at the nape of his neck. Phalen cursed and dropped his body to the ground.
el t'puuli darthirii! He heard the alien language almost right behind him.
Phalen turned and ran. The pure animal instinct for survival took over as he tore, climbed, tripped, and stumbled his way through the wood, uncaring of what was ahead of him as long as he was away. The blood of his friend felt wet on his face, but it was forgotten as his own blood and sweat mingled on his cheeks. He screamed as white-hot pain shot from his abdomen. He did not stop to see the blade jutting clean through his side. He did not stop to watch the red blood trickle over the pristine blue Elven armor he wore. In front of him the trees parted, opening up to reveal the dwelling place of a waterfall. Outside the chaos of his mind, the waterfall sang beautifully the tinkling melody of water spirits.
He stood straight up, blood slicking unnoticed at his feet, and looked back.
Gaer! udos inbal ukta!
Phalen was out of options now. The fall alone would probably kill him, but so would the Drow. His mind grew quiet for a moment as his body flew, the white spray of the falls cooling his hot face.
The water rose, the roar of the falls engulfed his form, and the water consumed him.
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