Wednesday, 8 August 2012
Murder in the Dark: An inhuman detachment
Malmir could never quite understand the curious condition that overcame humans after combat. They shook, blinked and looked remorseful for what they had done. Privately, Malmir thought this a terrible weakness. After all, the dead were the enemy, no difference here between a Tilean thug and a goblin wulfboy. He remembered his travels with his friend Orfeo. Now there was a human used to the sight of a fallen foe! No queasy knee knocking for him!
Still, Malmir wasn't having it easy. They'd been underground for some time now and the low ceilings, irregular walls and overwhelming stench of damp, human waste and decay was beginning to pull taut his nerves. Elves were not built for this work. Even elves who had turned their backs...
Action helped ease the growing sense of uneasy suffocation. He knew from experience that remaining static after a melee was foolish in the extreme. Any moment now more of these gutter thugs could be piling their way down the corridor and into the room and judging by the state of his companions they'd be quickly over run unless the alarm was called. Malmir nocked a fresh arrow and moved quickly towards the room's exit. He stared vigilantly into the semi-darkness, his elven eyes searching for any sign of movement.