Death Night

The smoke of burnt flesh rose in streamers above the huge altar. Blood runs in rivulets down the platform, into the screaming, howling, frenzied crowd below. The gore-stained figures atop the platform shriek up prayers to the towering effigy looming above them.

Kill!

Death night.

Murder!

Death night.

KHAINE!

A full moon cowers behind clouds as though afraid it too would be offered up in the festivties. The only light coming from the sacrifical pyres burning around the altar. Half mad with bloodlust; the Dark Elves dance, screaming praise to their dark God.

Upon the altar, Malekith, master and lord of the Druchii, howls along with a praise to Khaine. Holding a blood-soaked blade in one gauntlet and the severed head of his latest victim in the other, he raises both and throws the head into the heaving crowd.

"How kind of the Ulthuan traitors," He shouts to them "To save us the problem of rounding up offerings by turning up themselves!"

Raucous laughter echoes his words. Malekith joins in, thinking about the last battle, with Eltharion gone, it had been all too easy to round the shocked elves up and throw them into Naggarond's dungeons. It really had been too kind of them to come two weeks before Death Night. It meant that they could host a celabration that would put Har Ganeth's slaughter to shame.

His train of thought was derailed by the horrified shrieks of their next'offering', a young High elf warrior. This would have been the first real battle the fool had seen, and Malekith could see in his eyes that he had not been prepared for this.

The moment the elf caught sight of the altar and the armor-bound figure beside it, he panicked compelely. Letting out a terrified scream, he began to thrash madly against the Druchii holding him. Seeing the whelp about to break loose Malekith strode over and grabbed him about the neck.

The High elf stilled when he felt the cold iron closing like a death-trap around his throat, eyes wide with unspeakable fear. The Witch-King tore him out of the guard's grasps and dragged him to the altar. Malekith held him there for a few moments, drinking in the elf's terror and the blood-hungry howls of the surrounding crowd. Looking into the child's fear-maddened eyes, he wondered why everyone thought all high elves were brave and fearless.

A new, nasty idea slithered into the Witch-King's mind. Why not? He hoisted the High elf back up and threw him into the raving crowd.

The bedlam that followed was really something to watch. The best comparison Malekith could come up with was that of sharks in a feeding frenzy. The whelp was torn, shredded, rended limb from limb and stripped of flesh within a minute. Blood splattered the crowd who howled and screamed for more.

KHAINE!

Cynath! Urithair! Thalui!

KHAAAAINE!

Malekith laughed again, Oh Murder God, it had almost been WORTH being thrown out of Ulthan to be able to take part in such revels. Almost worth having been hacked to shreds by demons so he could strike a bargain and have the Pheonix burns healed.

He tore his helmet off and sang the next few lines of the praise at the top of his voice. Another good point, by tomorrow, everyone would be so drunk that they wouldn't remember if he had been at the altar at all, let alone how he was acting. Fuck appearences.

Morathi came to stand beside him and placed an ebony and jet chalice to his lips, he drained half of the scarlet liquid inside and had the rest poured over his head.

Blood ran down over his black hair, running red streaks over his pale, now smooth face. he opened his mouth and let some more trickle inside.

Now high on blood, rage and sheer exhileration. Malekith pulled off his armor, never mind the fact that he was wearing nothing underneath. He threw back his head, shrieking something incomprehensible as another chalice was upended over him.

The next sacrificial victim arrived, a member of the Shadow Warriors this time, Calm, he stood tall and spat at the guards holding him. Malekith rubbed his chin with one hand thoughtfully, he knew this one... Ah yes, Alith Anar, the so called 'Shadow King'. Malekith beckoned them closer, smirking at the proud High elf. The guards wrestled Anar onto the altar and tied him down.

The Witch-King came forward and loomed over Anar, a broard grin splitting his blood-stained face. "Well /Shadow King/" Malekith sneered, "Is this a satisfactory end to your little invasion?"

As he expected, Anar could not let Malekith mock him without retaliating, lifting his head as far as he could, he hissed "You will never win this, we do not fear you, Eltharion will not have died in vain-"

Malekith's grin broadened, "Oh, but he isn't dead."

Anar stopped speaking, shocked.

Malekith leaned forward so their faces were inches apart. "Do you want to know where he is?" He whispered, trailing the razor sharp knife down the High Elf's face, leaving a line of scarlet, "He's cowering in my bedchamber, a carnal-slave's collar about that slender neck, shackled to my bed, awaiting my return." Malekith bared his teeth and licked his lips, "And do you know what I'm going to do to him when I get back?

"....."

"I'm going to pin him down and sit astride his waist, then stick needles where those pretty eyes once were, and then, when he's screaming in agony and clawing at me, I'll tell him what happened to his army, I'll tell him how we set your ships alight, how we trapped you in that canyon and took so many of you alive, I'll tell him of how Belannaer was given to Tullaris and his men, how they used him before cutting his head off-" Malekith drew the knife lightly over Anar's neck"-and fastening it on their standard. How the streets ran red with elven blood tonight and that some of it was yours. Then I'll fuck him, hard, over and over again until he screams. And then, only then," -He leant furthur forward- "I'll tell him how I copulated with your corpse after you'd had your heart ripped out."

Anar's look of horror froze on his face as Malekith ripped the knife across his chest, slitting him open from diaphram to collarbone. Agilely, Malekith leaped astride Anar's body and wrenched his heart out with both hands. He held the organ above his head and let the blood drip from it into his open mouth.

The Witch-King arched back and looked up into the twisted face of his God. The great statue of green marble cluched a ruby heart much in to same way as Malekith held Anar's. Malekith wondered if it was a trick of the light, that blood seemed to be running from that heart too. He smirked and tore at the clothes still covering the Alith Anar's corpse.

Good? Bad? Don't blame me if you vomited on your computer. This was written while listening to Marilyn Manson and Cradle of Filth, but I'm the only one to blame. Even the people who own this aren't to blame.

Review responses to 'Obedience':

Gwen- High elf eh? Hurry up and get on the altar, scum, go on! Thanks for the sensible review, they seem to be a rarity.

Medevilmouse-This is NOT about how many points of Dark Elves I have, this is about writing a fanfiction. If I want to beat Eltharion to a pulp then I have as much right as you have to kill Malekith, this is fanfiction so you have no right to tell me what I can put up unless you're the owner of this site. If you don't like what I'm writing then read something else! No one's holding a bolter to your head and telling you "Read this!"

Incidentally I have about 3,000 points in Dark elves. If you think that 210 points of high elves is impressive then you must live under a stone.

I am not considerate of High elf players because I think that the people reading this prefer Dark Elves, the reference to Malekith puts most players off.

I have not put this fanfiction up to be bad mouthed by some high elf player with zero IQ who has no grasp of capitals OR grammer, and thinks "The Space Things" and "lalalala" are good titles and summaries.

If you think that what you wrote is constuctive and/or makes you look intelligent, then think again.

Her-Dark-Materials- Hi Rowan, thanks for reading this and remaining my friend! It was meant to be an 'ew' fic..

Coffee-freak-Glad you liked it.

Kendraen Ideals- It /was/ no-con, it was rape! Glad you enjoyed it, but if 'Obedience' made you feel bad then reading this may not be a good idea.

wouldn't you like to no- Yes, I would love to know you E-mail address, although I could delete your review, I would rather leave it up, you made me laugh so hard I almost fell off my chair, please, review again. Your flame was the funniest I have ever recieved!

And no, I am not human, I an a Skull Bearer, read the screen name.