EZ_Dranec
07-21-00, 10:10 PM
The man walked down the silent streets of Freeport. Nothing was to be heard except the “thud” of his steel boots on the dusty roads.
       
It was well after midnight. Everyone had gone in except the local alley thugs and beggars.
       
No one intercepted his path as he moved down the dusty road. His reputation as one of the most powerful warriors in Freeport well protected him.
       
The message his contact had relayed to him was terrifying. It could possibly mean the end of Freeport, his home. His destination this night was the Paladins Guild, he had to pass this message on to them.
       
The dark sky over his head watched his passing. The buildings stood impassive as the warrior moved through the torch lit streets. His eye’s moved back and fourth peering down the passing alleys lit only with the occasional moonlight.
       
Cold sweat streaked down his neck. He sped up his pace not wanting to waist any more time. His warrior’s sixth sense, the one that he had learned to rely on in more then one occasion, told him of danger, but he neither saw it nor heard it. He simply rejected it because of his growing anxiety.
       
The shadows seemed to follow him as he made his passing, as if they monitored his every move in hopes he would not succeed. The torches offered little comfort now as the shadows of the sky seemed to consume them. It was as if a soul of darkness watched the only hope of Freeport move through the streets, following to stop him.
       
The warrior stopped to stare off into the street, again his warrior’s sense spoke to him, like a dear friend, warning him of the danger. He looked off into the sky, his eyes moving to the tops of the Freeport buildings skimming them, in search of the danger he felt.
       
His gaze settled on one of the roof’s of a darker store. His eyes widened in horror as a dark figure fired an arrow down at him, it whistling through the darkness toward him like the hand of death itself.
       
His honed reflexes saved him he as quickly dodged out of the arrow’s path leaving it vibrating as it hit the dust filled roads.
       
The warrior tore down the street ducking into several alleys in hope he would loose the assassin that was with no doubt pursuing with lethal intentions.
       
As he moved through an alley, his pursuer dropped from the roof rising slowly into the moonlight several feet ahead of him Smile on his face.
       
The figure was of Dark Elven heritage, skin as dark as the shadows that covered this night. His eyes glowed with the sign of ultravision. The white locks of hair that was the mark of his ebony race flowed just below his shoulders. It was well kept as not to distract him during battle. In his hands he held two finely crafted dirks. They both gleamed with the enchantment of magic. He wore armor as black as his dark skin, fitting perfectly around his slim but muscular shape.
       
The warrior drew his mighty swords in a flash, moonlight reflecting off their magnificent steel.
       
The warrior looked upon the elf that now stood between him and the survival of Freeport. His rage rising with the thought of all the innocents that would be slaughtered without mercy, of the soldiers that would die in battle.
       
His grip tightened on his swords. His heart pounding he charged. The dark form moved with a blur and parried the warrior’s first attack with little effort.
       
The two jumped in and out testing each other as the night wore on. The ring of steel was becoming a constant sound. Both taking the attack at different times but neither taking the advantage. The fighters danced with swords and death, lethal intent in both minds. Dirk and sword lit up the dark alley. Sparks flew as each moved around the other’s attack returning their own, only to be intercepted with blades of death. Gashes appeared on both, but individual movements could not be distinguished as the two master swordsmen engaged       
       
The warrior felt his reflexes slowing. He then knew the daggers were coated with poison as the battled reached it’s climax giving the dark elf more then a slight advantage.
       
The ring of steel slowed as the warrior missed more and more parries, receiving more and more minor wounds. The elf smiled, he knew he had won. He moved with death as his daggers wove their way past the warriors slowing blades.
The warrior fought on with passion, though all was lost. His heart ached as he knew what would become of his home. He would not be able to pass on his message.
       
The elf’s dirks penetrated the warrior’s defensive ring of steel, finding their mark as they sank past the human’s ribs into his heart.
       
The warrior slumped to the ground, freeing himself of the cursed blades but not from death. His breathing slowed as he stared up into the face of his slayer.
       
The elf smiled at him revealing a “L” shaped scar under his lip.
       
“You basts…,” the warrior mumbled with his last breath, then slipped into the blur of the after life.
       
After cleaning his blades on the warrior’s torso the ebony skinned elf sheathed his daggers grinning as he thought of the glory he would receive for this and the payment. He moved out of the alley as quit as he had entered, into the darkness of night into the darkness of his soul.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
<author's note> Hello! This is Drakc(somehow lost my password to Drakc's account or something, but oh well) I wrote a story earlier called "My little short stories".
And the advice I got I tried to follow, I watched my grammer better this time, and my spelling. I hope you enjoyed reading this. Please do leave any comment about my story, I wish to know how to improve my writing.
       
It was well after midnight. Everyone had gone in except the local alley thugs and beggars.
       
No one intercepted his path as he moved down the dusty road. His reputation as one of the most powerful warriors in Freeport well protected him.
       
The message his contact had relayed to him was terrifying. It could possibly mean the end of Freeport, his home. His destination this night was the Paladins Guild, he had to pass this message on to them.
       
The dark sky over his head watched his passing. The buildings stood impassive as the warrior moved through the torch lit streets. His eye’s moved back and fourth peering down the passing alleys lit only with the occasional moonlight.
       
Cold sweat streaked down his neck. He sped up his pace not wanting to waist any more time. His warrior’s sixth sense, the one that he had learned to rely on in more then one occasion, told him of danger, but he neither saw it nor heard it. He simply rejected it because of his growing anxiety.
       
The shadows seemed to follow him as he made his passing, as if they monitored his every move in hopes he would not succeed. The torches offered little comfort now as the shadows of the sky seemed to consume them. It was as if a soul of darkness watched the only hope of Freeport move through the streets, following to stop him.
       
The warrior stopped to stare off into the street, again his warrior’s sense spoke to him, like a dear friend, warning him of the danger. He looked off into the sky, his eyes moving to the tops of the Freeport buildings skimming them, in search of the danger he felt.
       
His gaze settled on one of the roof’s of a darker store. His eyes widened in horror as a dark figure fired an arrow down at him, it whistling through the darkness toward him like the hand of death itself.
       
His honed reflexes saved him he as quickly dodged out of the arrow’s path leaving it vibrating as it hit the dust filled roads.
       
The warrior tore down the street ducking into several alleys in hope he would loose the assassin that was with no doubt pursuing with lethal intentions.
       
As he moved through an alley, his pursuer dropped from the roof rising slowly into the moonlight several feet ahead of him Smile on his face.
       
The figure was of Dark Elven heritage, skin as dark as the shadows that covered this night. His eyes glowed with the sign of ultravision. The white locks of hair that was the mark of his ebony race flowed just below his shoulders. It was well kept as not to distract him during battle. In his hands he held two finely crafted dirks. They both gleamed with the enchantment of magic. He wore armor as black as his dark skin, fitting perfectly around his slim but muscular shape.
       
The warrior drew his mighty swords in a flash, moonlight reflecting off their magnificent steel.
       
The warrior looked upon the elf that now stood between him and the survival of Freeport. His rage rising with the thought of all the innocents that would be slaughtered without mercy, of the soldiers that would die in battle.
       
His grip tightened on his swords. His heart pounding he charged. The dark form moved with a blur and parried the warrior’s first attack with little effort.
       
The two jumped in and out testing each other as the night wore on. The ring of steel was becoming a constant sound. Both taking the attack at different times but neither taking the advantage. The fighters danced with swords and death, lethal intent in both minds. Dirk and sword lit up the dark alley. Sparks flew as each moved around the other’s attack returning their own, only to be intercepted with blades of death. Gashes appeared on both, but individual movements could not be distinguished as the two master swordsmen engaged       
       
The warrior felt his reflexes slowing. He then knew the daggers were coated with poison as the battled reached it’s climax giving the dark elf more then a slight advantage.
       
The ring of steel slowed as the warrior missed more and more parries, receiving more and more minor wounds. The elf smiled, he knew he had won. He moved with death as his daggers wove their way past the warriors slowing blades.
The warrior fought on with passion, though all was lost. His heart ached as he knew what would become of his home. He would not be able to pass on his message.
       
The elf’s dirks penetrated the warrior’s defensive ring of steel, finding their mark as they sank past the human’s ribs into his heart.
       
The warrior slumped to the ground, freeing himself of the cursed blades but not from death. His breathing slowed as he stared up into the face of his slayer.
       
The elf smiled at him revealing a “L” shaped scar under his lip.
       
“You basts…,” the warrior mumbled with his last breath, then slipped into the blur of the after life.
       
After cleaning his blades on the warrior’s torso the ebony skinned elf sheathed his daggers grinning as he thought of the glory he would receive for this and the payment. He moved out of the alley as quit as he had entered, into the darkness of night into the darkness of his soul.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
<author's note> Hello! This is Drakc(somehow lost my password to Drakc's account or something, but oh well) I wrote a story earlier called "My little short stories".
And the advice I got I tried to follow, I watched my grammer better this time, and my spelling. I hope you enjoyed reading this. Please do leave any comment about my story, I wish to know how to improve my writing.