Dark elves:
Skin: Pale purple, pale blue, dark green, black, grey. Some of the elders have unnaturally pale skin because of their affinity with moonlight.
Eyes: Silver and any dark color
Hair: Silver and any dark color
Build: Typically taller than most humans, thinly muscled with sharp facial features, thinner than light elves
Abilities: Capable of blending into shadows, their feet make no sound no matter the terrain, the older ones blend completely into direct moonlight. They have affinity with other predatory animals.
Typical weapons: Feral weapons like spears, daggers, bows etc; masters of poison
Beleifs: The dark elves worship the moon as a supreme goddess and celebrate her with several festivals through out the year. As each dark elf comes to age at seventeen and announces the path he or she has chosen to follow (the young elf would have trained in this path for several months before the ceremony and will continue to study it. Paths include hunter, crafter(everything from jewerly to weapons) or another odd path like dancer, moon preist/preistess etc) they must offer something of their own skill to the Moon Goddess, whether it be jewerly or a freshly killed stag. The dark elves, though not a warring people, are feircely protective of their territory and despise humans or any other being who infringes on it. The human threat effects them greatly as they are a tribal, land based people. The mating system is for life. After coming to age an elf, male or female, may court another elf reguardless of age or path. Typically the male asks for the female's hand but there have been cases otherwise. The male part of the union joins the female's house and is expected to behave as the males of that independent family do, unless the female is an orphan or her parents are destitute in which case the female would join the male's family. Infidelity is punishable by a period of shunning for both parties, in which the ashamed elves must fend for themselves. Other customs can be suggested to me and added to this list. : 3


Light elves:
Skin: ranges from pale white to a sun tanned gold
Eyes: Gold and all light colors
Hair: All light natural colors and white
Build: Though typically taller than humans they rarely outgrow the dark elves. Usually broader than dark elves but never beefy. Their faces are still sharp but have more of a soft appearance.
Abilities: Normal elves have more psychic ability than their dark counter parts and are capable of entrancing humans or other elves as well as some mind reading and being able to see into the future. They have affinity with horses, deer and other typically gentle creatures
Typical weapons: Light elves are more skilled with metal type weapons like swords and staffs. They are master healers.
Beleifs: The only real difference in the light elf beleive system is that it is more male driven. The supreme deity is the Sun, a male god. Females are typically expected to take on a less dangerous path, like a singer, dancer or healer and join the male's family after mating. Being a less severe race mating is not for life and can be ended by request of both parties fairly easily. Infidelity and other crimes are usually punishable by a fine. The light elves are more friendly towards humans if they meet them, as they still honor the old alliance that was made so many years ago. Message me if you have more ideas for customs!

The stag moved cautiously through twisted woods, proud nose raised to the dismal winds as his ears pivoted back and forth. The animal was not in his element: his hooves sank into the wet earth with each step, the trees rustled endlessly even in the breeze and he could hear no sound, despite seeing glimpses of movement in the trees. The creature felt tempted to bolt at every minor glimpse, but he relied heavily on his instinct. The woods were full of shadows, surely their shifting was all he saw.

Another creature watched the stag’s progression, his ruby colored eyes following his every breath, his every move. He was a predator more fearsome than wolf or bear, perhaps even more fearsome than man with his bullets. Silas Nightshade knocked an arrow silently, fingertips brushing the soft green and violet feathers that adorned its end. The arrow head did not reflect the moonlight, but it was illuminated enough by it to show its shape. The metal head resembled a fleur-de-lis but was cut much more sharply while being guaranteed to hook into whatever flesh it made contact with.

The elder’s eyes narrowed sharply in concentration as he pulled the string back, aiming straight for the stag’s racing heart. There was a strong belief among his people to make death quick, so the creature may race to the moon without suffering. This belief did not and never would safe their enemies suffering, but a dark elf was taught not to leave his prey until it breathed its last, it may very well get back up.

The arrow flew straight strong, piercing the stag’s flesh and muscle, tearing through the workings of its heart. The creature fell gracefully on its side, its coat shining silver in the moonlight. Silas made his way gracefully down the tree, nails assisting him without damaging the tree. His footfalls were totally silent as he approached the creature, ever cautious of a dying creature’s might. The deer spasmed weakly, already dead by scientific terms. Silas crouched, running a dark hand over the stag’s side to ease this, his religion having taught him that those spasms and twitches were the deer’s soul ripping from its body. He murmured briefly in the old tongue before hefting the creature over one shoulder.

The walk back to the village was uneventful but still enchanting to the ancient being. The moonlight on the grass still took his breath away, just as did the rippling of the salty water and the distant whisper of the river. He entered the camp silently, touching his forehead at any who greeted him. That was another old thing, touching one’s forehead in a way of greeting. He didn’t know of any young elves who did that any longer. The tribe leader sat in a patch of moonlight, observing his people go about their tasks with a silent awe. They were still alright, not thriving but existing. The stag was cleaned with precision and old skill, and soon there was a neat pile of edible meat and another pile of bone and skin that a crafter of some sort would be glad to have. Silas wrapped the meat in long leaves and left it at the salt shack’s door, someone else would hang it.

He more or less leapt into a massive, low branch on a nearby tree as lithely as some of the children did. He pressed his back against the trunk, soothed by the rustling of its leaves and the coolness of its bark. Silas was a stern elf, harsh in some opinions. But unless provoked he went about his business like any other member of the tribe. He watched the dark figures of his people mill about, a small smile gracing his lips.

"So I have finally found you." Nascus said silently loading the arrow. He hand made each and everyone of his arrows to spin in air and make a puncture wound so bad, that the arrow would only come out in surgery. He tied a rope to the end of the arrow and he pointed the jagged tooth arrow at the bandit. "Good bye." Nascus said before releasing the arrow on its bloody path.

The arrow sliced threw the mans skin and barreled threw his bones. He normally would have stolen his money and brought it back to the bandits victims, but he had information leading to this man in his mothers murder. The bandit tried to limp away, but his tissue damage was far to sever. "Trying to run ,eh?" He said pulling on the rope that was lodged into his bones. "Your mother died begging for her life!" He said laughing at his poor mothers demise. Nascus ripped the arrow out and the bandit passed out due to the extreme amount of pain. "Oh I am going to make you watch it!" He said pulling out some smelling salts and making the idiot watch his own death.

The village was practically humming. Men and women bustled through the trees, laughing, joking, flirting. Someone had started a large bonfire, something they didn't light often because of the effort it took to get the eternally damp wood to take to the flame. A few had brought out instruments and singers were coaxed to share a song, dancers entreated to share their beauty. Everything had a subtle feeling of ease and mirth about it. It was the moon that did it. So clear, bright, and full, no dark elf could feel anything but at peace bathed in its light.

Tchata was seated around the fire, one of her attendents on her right and two or three of her guards seated around her, clapping in time with one of the more talented fiddlers in their village. A troupe of elflings were carefully weaving flowers and pretty feathers into her wealth of hair, chattering happily at her about this, that, and everything. Suddenly though, one of them broke off, sprinting over to where a dark shadow with deep crimson eyes was settled comfortably among the branches. The little one made a very careful salute, which was returned with a touch to the forehead. Tchata considered and then grinned.

"Enough," she said, softening the harsh words with a gentle touch to each of their foreheads and a whispered blessing for each. "Yvana, come to me tomorrow night so that I can see that cut. Tell your brother to be more careful." She stood and strode toward the tree where her leader rested purposefully, secure in the fact that her entourage was at her heels. Once she reached the trunk of the tree she bowed low and saluted her leader, with her hands stretched toward him, over her heart, to the shining moon overhead, and then back down to her forehead. "My chief," she murmured in greeting, and then she leapt into a branch adjacent to his own. One did not share Silas Nightshade's seat unless invited.

"There have been sightings of Hasa and her pack on the outskirts of our territory. If they are close, we may be able to include them in the summer solstice ritual. Is this acceptable, Nightshade?" The name had practically become a title in itself. Tchata sometimes felt bad for the young Nightshade... Hasa was the alpha female of a pack of wolves that was closely associated with the tribe that moved through their territory from time to time. The wolves knew the moon well and Tchata liked them, felt that the goddess liked them.

Valetea knew the summer solstice was near. It was one yearly tradition that the young elf never forgot.
Dear, don't be too long. We'll be asleep when you get back, so please be quiet. A tall, slender, graceful female said.
Okay, Mother, okay. I promise. I'll see you later, shorty. Valetea had replied, ruffling her little brothers' hair.
With that, her parents and brother had left, gone home. Their backs was the last she had ever saw of them.

Three hours later, Valetea had come across a sea of blood.
WHY?! Who did this? Why was...everything taken from me? She had screamed to the rising sun.

These were the thoughts that ran through her head as she sat atop a large rock in the middle of a marsh, stroking Hasa gently. Hasa shared Valatea's pain of loss, so the two shared a bond as well as the elf's affinity for wolves.

"Another year has passed, my friend. How many more must my family rest without peace?"

"Goddamn prick of..."

Alyssa trailed off, trying in vain to pick her hair out of a snarl of twigs that held it captive without yanking it out by the roots. With a frustrated huff, she
removed herself from the thicket and brought her flashlight and map close to her face. Yeah, now that it was right at the end of her nose, she could clearly see the marks from the pen where Camden, her dick of a brother had marked a new, completely bogus, path on her map. And now she was completely and hopelessly turned around. In the woods. At night. It was all she could do to keep the panic from choking her, at the moment she was managing to trick herself into thinking it was anger at her brother for putting her in such a situation.

After all, everyone knew the stories. Everyone knew about the few people who, dumb enough to get lost in the woods, were actually found, sometimes no more than a few hours later, ripped almost to shreds. Most were lucky if their bones were found scattered a few miles from the treeline. The wolves and panthers that staled the forrests outside of town were particularly ferocious. Most of the intellectuals (a few science teachers...) thought that it was because they had been exposed to people just enough to recognize them as threats, or some mumbo jumbo like that.

She had to get out of there...

She made a bold decision, finally, to just keep moving in what she knew to be east. It was bold. If she was where she thought she was, she would hit the treeline soon and then the highway, hitch a ride back into town and will have slain her brother before breakfast. If she wasn't though... she knew, at all costs, she needed to stay away from the river. Animals had to drink too...

Suddenly, though (miracle of miracles!) the faintest strains of a human voice reached her ears. She couldn't tell what was being said, but she ran anyway, without thinking. Help was help was help, right?

She came upon the scene more quickly than she thought possible.

A man lay in a pool of blood on the ground, looking like every picture of the consequences of time in the woods she had ever seen. And over him, an impossibility, a fairy tale. He was huge, long and wiry, with claws, with long pointed ears, and with eyes like the devil himself. Alyssa dropped to her knees, crossed herself absently, and began to scream.

The scream reached Valetea's ears before it reached Hasa's. The she-elf had smelled blood from a human, but had paid it no attention. She knew the Heir was 'hunting'. It was none of her buisness. But if he let his father find out...
Valetea bounded from tree to tree, reaching Nascus and the two humans within mere seconds. Acting quickly, the she-elf wrapped a clawed hand around the human's mouth, muffling her. She hissed lowly and softly to the girl, telling her to be quiet. She turned her blue and silver eyes on Nascus and the man who lay dying.
"My Brother, I understand why you are doing what you are doing, but I must insist that you do this quieter." Valetea told her friend with a smirk. "Lord Silas is not one who needs to find out about your little excursion, am I right?"

(this is supposed to be in dark elf woods, I forgot to put it xp)

Silas watched the little village wake up, as the moon was finally making her full rise. Some of the children didn’t wake until the moon peaked, and most of the adults didn’t get moving until well after her rise. The dark elves simply were not able to take the sun any more. Generations ago, they could at least live in it but now most of the young ones could barely open their eyes, and even Silas himself could only move around in direct sunlight for a few minutes before feeling fatigued. An attack during the day would be devastating, but the dark elves had friends to protect them. Wolves, bears, cougars, even the raptors of the forest would watch over them as they slept. It was an unexplainable affinity. There was little the elves could do for the animals, save offer them things when there was surplus and watch over their young when they hunted, but still the predators would look after them.

A fire was burning in the center of the village, sending flashes of sparks into the night sky. Fire wasn’t something Silas was particularly comfortable with, considering that it had killed his wife. But the woods were too wet to burn in this new home, and the river was close enough to save any who were mistakenly burned or otherwise injured. He watched vigilantly despite that, ever a silent sentinel to his people.

The child’s approach dissipated his thoughts for a moment, and he touched his forehead in return. The boy wanted to show him that he was brave, wanted to show the pretty lavender girl that he was strong. Silas watched him strut back, like a young cock before a group of hens. He chuckled to himself, recalling his own long past childhood. The forests had been greener then, the land wilder.

“My chief.”

He cast a ruby eye down, his ears having already alerted him to the priestess’ presence. He touched his forehead in return to her elaborate one. The girl had more respect for the moon than of the priestesses before her and Silas appreciated that. His people needed a strong spiritual leader just as much if not more than they needed a political one in a time such as this. They needed the moon in time such as this. Tchata spoke of the wolf mother and her pack with a subdued excitement, reminding Silas that she was still young, still ripe.

“Hasa is always welcome here. Lisen’s cubs have grown over the summer as well, and they plan to take their mother’s spot at this solstice.” Lisen had been the tribe’s favorite bear since they’d come to the dark woods but was growing old and gray, much like Silas himself. But Silas had an eternity left to live, whereas Lisen would soon return to her mother, all of their mother.

One long ear twitched as he spoke, picking up the sound of a rather eerie scream to accompany the sounds of bloodshed he’d been picking up on throughout the night. He knew very well that his son was hunting man, and he did not approve in the least. But Nascus was sure that man had a hand in the terrible fire, so he let him be. Silas knew very well that humans did not take kindly to their own being murdered, unless it is by others of their kind. Hopefully he would properly dispose of the boy and man would keep his nose out of their business.

Tchata tapped her index finger against her lips thoughtfully. New blood in the ritual's circle was good. It signified the circle's ability to endure through time, which was an important part of the Solstice. She needed to send a few hunters and a few of her priestesses to mark the new chosen cub. Perhaps it would be a good learning experience for their heir... She smiled suddenly, pleased with the idea and shifted in her perch, reaching behind her to comb her fingers through her hair. "Already? I hadn't heard... It will be a good renewal for the circle. Perhaps it is a sign that young Nightshade is meant to learn more a--"

She stopped, turning her head toward the gnarled woods. The scream reached her faintly, but clearly. The night had seemed peaceful to her beforehand, but danger rarely called a truce for her people. She quickly thought back to any of the villagers who had ventured out alone that night. All of them were accounted for, either they were safe in the villiage, or she was confident enough in thier abilities to rule them out. That left an enemy from across the river or a man. Tchata would prefer neither to wander unescorted, on their land... Still, Nightshade seemed unconcerned with the scream in the forrest. There was little that went on in the marsh that he did not know about, honestly.

"Nightshade?" she murmured, standing and turning her nose toward the sound. The wind was blowing in the wrong direction. She looked to her chief, confused.

The trees rustled in the gentle breeze, their leaves seeming to whisper to the young elf who sat amongst their highest, but still very sturdy, branches, leaning against a thick trunk. It was impossible, even for those who knew the trees by their old names, which leaves belonged to which tree and it was something that forever puzzled Vanya. The trees, although deemed to be the ultimate icon of peace and nature, were forever competing against one another for sunlight, moisture, and most importantly, space.

Space, whether for trees or living beings, was something there was never enough of. The humans wanted their space, the Dark Elves theirs, and obviously the Light Elves needed some space for themselves too. But the human's rapid expansion over the last few centuries had pushed the Elvish civilisations to their limits and had forgotten about them. And now, the two Elvish tribes were at odds with each other, declaring themselves as near enemies.

This tale made Vanya sad. She was by far the youngest elf she had heard of, whether Light or Dark, and as a whole, she was a disappointment to her tribe. Vanya would not be the one to save their tribe, in fact, the she-elf would rather unite them, but not to conquer the humans; to be at peace in their dying days. The number of Elves were small, never enough to populate the Earth, and though they would live forever, the advancement of the human race would forever better the Elven struggle to survive in the modern world.

And so, it was with these thoughts, and a small headache because of it, that Vanya sat leaning against a tree trunk, her legs dangling below her.

Silas walked lithely to the edge of his branch, extending a spidery hand to the young priestess. He helped her down from the tree with gentlemanly grace and turned an eye to the celebrations. The people were either ignoring the scream or relishing in it. It was too high to be one of their kind, who were taught screaming was a good way to lose your soul. The tall elf lifted his chin in the vague direction of the scream. He felt himself foolish for not doing something about it earlier, and had to be reminded of it by Tchata. He glanced over his shoulder at her.

“I’ll attend to this priestess. If human blood was shed on our land you will need to make it pure again.”

His lips twitched ever so slightly as he drew his bow from his back, holding it loosely by his side as he started towards the disturbances. He would have much rather spent the night watching his people rejoice and talking with Tchata about bear cubs and solstices. He walked to the edge of the encampment and leaned against a particularly twisted old tree. He would wait for a call for help, or until all signs of struggle stopped. This was his son’s kill, and he would leave him be. Silas’ crimson eyes fell over the enchanting landscape, taking on a faraway look. Nostalgia stole his features briefly. Racing through moonlit plains with the other elflings, the first time his arrow made contact with flesh, his wife’s beautiful voice, the birth of his son. A creeping fear coiled around his heart. Some of the young ones may very well never know those feelings. They may never learn the thrill of the hunt or reverence for a mate. Their race was dying, being erased. They could cling to their forests and be burned or poisoned out. Or they could assimilate into the human world as best as they could. He saw himself strolling into the human city and touching his forehead to a passing human. Saw Tchata cutting her hair short and serving food to fat human men. He saw his son marrying a human woman…

Silas fought the violent shudder that threatened to rack his body. He would let his people die before that happened. He would kill each of his own before he allowed such a thing. If they were going to lose their way of life, they would lose it in the receding shadows, clinging to their ruins with their dying breaths.

Any hopes of joyful conversation or dancing with the young ones was crushed with these thoughts. Silas Nightshade set his mouth in a hard line and waited.

Valetea's ears twitched. "It appears that my Lord already knows..." She siad softly. "The girl was unexpected." She once again turned to Nascus. "What should we do with her?" The she-elfs' hand was cold against the humans' skin, like ice. Hasa came trotting up slowly. Valetea gave the wolf a sidweays glance. "Hello again, my friend."

((I guess we're transitioning this to Modern Earth? And then back to the woods?))

Tchata took his hand and stepped from the tree, still watching his face curiously. The village seemed unconcerned with the solitary wail, as did Nightshade, but still it would be irresponsible for her to leave them without protection. She nodded her head as Silas spoke and then took off into the bush. "Stay here," she said to ther guard. She would be safe enough in Silas's company. "Bring me my axe and the hsitha," she told the attendant. these things were kept ready at all times and so her attendant had the axe and the lightweight staff in her hands within moments. She took a length of cord from around her wrist and bound her hair and approached the treeline. She hesitated for a moment, praying for patience. Human filth did not often bring out her best qualities.

That done, Tchata took off into their forrest, keeping close to Silas's track. She was aware, as she ran, of the life of the forrest being lived. Some souls took lives, other gave bowed gracefully and turned to race to the mother. Some simply stretched silently upwards, unjudgemental and simply providing. Of all things in the forrest, the trees were what gave her pause. The trees bore no grudges. The trees had given their lives to the light elves to build their gaudy houses, sheltered the humans in their infancy, and cradled her people when they were tired. They were noble, these trees, but they depended so heavily on the goodwill of others. Her people were coming close to being like the trees themselves... She sighed quietly, shaking her head. She needed to focus. Sounds of a struggle and whispered voices reached her and Silas had come to a stop. She slowed and crept up to him, peering over his shoulder. She kept her mouth shut about what she saw. Her job was to cleanse the scene and maybe make a tribute out of a few bones to Hasa's pack or Lisen's cave.

---

Alyssa's felt like her body was made of wood of stone. Terror had flooded her system, filling her limbs with lead. Another demon had leapt out of nowhere, roughly clamping its chilled hand against her face. All that filled her mind were bits and pieces of old bible verses, some that had nothing to do with anything and some that she was sure she was getting wrong. She hadn't been to church in months, but she was trying like hell (if you excuse the pun) to make up for it now. She trembled as a huge wolf stalked out of the shadows.

I'm going to die... she thought faintly.

Hasa turned fluidly at Silas' and Tchata's approach.
"My Lord...Preistess..." Valetea said with a bowed head. She knew they were there wthout having to turn around. She looked down to the human. "Will you be quiet if I let you go and will you be still?"

Be still and quiet? Could she do that? Could she do anything else? Was it even ethical to do what a demon told you to? What if they were going to kill her if she said no? But, if she did what they said, would she go to hell? But she'd be alive, maybe she'd live long enough to atone for it. How many hail Mary's cancled out following the instruction the the devil himself? And what if it was lying? It was probably planning on making her sin then sending her straight to hell...

She was vaguely aware of herself nodding dumbly to the hissed question in her ear.

Silas was comforted by Tchata’s presence as they hurried through the woods but all comfort stopped at the scene before him. His long abandoned fangs clenched as he took in the situation, a growl of rage rippling through his body. His son stood a little further off over a mangled human male that may or may not have been dead. Valetea stood with her back turned to him, a bad move, holding a small human woman by the mouth. There had been two humans freely roaming in their forest. That alone was enough to anger him. Now, one of them was dying or dead, he wasn’t entirely sure and the other was alive. They were coming closer, moving more and more boldly into their lives. The girl human’s eyes were wide like cornered doe and she seemed to shiver beneath Valtea’s hand. A few centuries ago he may have scolded Valtea for such treatment and sent the human on her way with good story and bruised lips. It was different now though, much different. If the human was sent back, she would assuredly tell her leaders about them and hundreds, maybe thousands would invade their lives with fire and their cruel guns.

Silas gritted his teeth and cast a glance at the human male. He seemed despicable and likely unloved, but the girl looked far more innocent than he preferred. Just like a doe. He could never bear to hunt them as it was, and now he had a two legged one before him. If he had her killed, her kind may come looking for her. If he kept her alive as a prisoner, they would likely still come looking for her. The best solution he could think of was to drop her off at the edge of the woods and have one of the animals have its way with her. Her fellows would have no reason to investigate if it was clear an animal had done it and may even mark off the forest as dangerous…then perhaps no one else would come here.

He looked once more to the frightened girl. Maybe she wouldn’t tell…”Valtea release her. If you utter one word out of turn I will remove your means of uttering.” He wrapped his own thin hand around the girl’s arm, aware of how their bony digits could bruise soft flesh. He pulled her gently beside him and forced her into a sitting position like a teacher may do to a young child. He cast an eye on Nascus and scoffed at the corpse. “Clean your kill and give the remains to Tchata. Do not keep any of its clothing or possessions.” He looked to Valtea. “Return to the village with Hasa if she so wished to join us.” His words were spoken softly but with purpose, his eyes gleaming with annoyance. “Tchata this human and I will make sure this purification goes as planned.” He squeezed the human girl’s shoulder firmly, not to hurt her but to show her his strength, and how foolish it would be to try and run. A heavy sigh followed his powerful words. For a moment the moonlight fell on his dignified scars and he seemed his age. He was getting tired, like the trees who had twisted in too many directions to reach the moon. His son was not ready to lead and neither was anyone else in his tribe. They would not be left alone any time soon, and he would not be resting any sooner. "Go, do as I say."

"Yes father." Nascus said after a long period of silence. He gripped the arrow and whispered in the humans ear," This is for mother." He tore the arrow out, but it still was connected to his bone. "And this is from me!" He said stomping on the mans forehead and causing it to snap against the humans brain.

He took a locket out of the humans pocket and opened it up. "Mother." He whispered after looking at his mothers beautiful face. Nascus whistled and an extremely large wolf jumped out of the trees. "Danesh cof." Nascus said after scratching the wolf behind the ear. The animal nodded and bit the human on the neck and ran back to her new born baby's. "I really hope they will be ready for the hunts this winter." He said with a smile on his face. "Can I keep this father?" He asked showing the locket to his dad.

Alyssa gulped. They just kept comming out of the woods. Now there was one who's skin was probably charred that color in hell with wild blue hair. The one who spoke was pale as a ghost and Alyssa wasn't sure if it was the demon who held her captive or herself that he threatened so calmly. She clamped her mouth shut just the same and tried not to whimper when he reached for her. His hands were hard and bony, with fingers that were way too long. He seemed not to even think about manipulating her body, settling her in a seated position by his side. She was that insignificant to him. He squeezed her shoulder briefly and she winced. She had seen how fast the girl was and heard the silent feet on which they approached. Her dread made her feel dull and heavy, not fleet and clever.

She couldn't help but flinch when the first demon leaned over the remains of a human man, one who looked about the same age as her own father, and tore the arrow vicously from his body. Alyssa thought she was going to throw up and then she would certainly lose her means of uttering and probably go to hell right afterward. The man made a sickening gurgle. Dear Lord, he was still alive. "And this is from me!"

There was a gut-wrenchings, wet crack. A fleck of something wet splatted against her face. For three long seconds, all Alyssa could do was gape at the body and for some reason an image of the splattered remains of a dead racoon her brother hit with his truck last week sprung to mind. "Can I keep this father?" the demon asked, and Alyssa thought of her little cousin, who had begged and pleaded and cried when her mother wouldn't let her keep any of the feathers from an overturned bird's nest, the broken baby birds strewn across the yard. The wet splat of something was sliding down her cheek. And so Alyssa did the only thing she could possibly think of. She burst into tears, her body folding in on itself with the force of her sobs.

---

Tchata pressed her lips into a grim line, but did not flinch as she was sprayed with blood and a bit of entrails. Sloppy kill. Nascus's anger was often... well it often presented itself in a manner such as this. She whispered a few words to the wolf as it left, knowing that she had few pups and there would be meat left over. She would need to send one of her priestesses to collect the clothes and bones for further purification. As she was mulling over these details, with a sound like a ripping cloth, the little human femal hunched over, sobbing into her hands. Tchata's eyes were wide and alarmed and she stooped curiously, trying to discern the strange half-formed words comming from the girl.

"...My shepherd, I shall not... maketh me lie in green pastures... light unto my path...deliver us from evil..."

Tchata made an incredulous sound in the back of her throat as she stood. "Godess above. The human-ling is praying to her gods. You've made her hysterical, brother." She sighed and stepping away from the girl and scratched a wide circle in the ground around the spilled blood and bits of shattered bone. The dark elves did not eat meat from humans, just as they did not eat meant from light elves, though for slightly different reasons. The light elves, though foreign, were in some ways, still kin to the dark elves. They shared ancestors from long ago, though they would surely weep at what the long lost cousins had become. Humans, on the other hand, simply could not be eaten. Their blood was full of the poisonous environments in which they lived and it made her people sick to ingest it. Somehow the animals of the forrest were far more robust, maybe because of their own contact with man and so all human meat went to them. Still, human blood in the ground was not good for the trees, for the soil, or for the marsh.

The ritual site clear, Tchata approached Nightshade and, bowing, drew one of the unpoisoned arrows from the quiver on his back, sniffing it to be sure it would do her no harm. "If I may, my chief," she said absently, drawing the point of the arrow over the palm of her hand. She let her blood fall into the circle for a few moments, only a few drops of blood were really needed, and then pulled the leather strip from her hair, binding it around the wound. She quickly became immersed in her words as they flowed from her memory to her heart, out of her mouth and to the goddess. Her fingers tingled and turned an iridescent pearl, the color spread over her hands and up her arms as she moved around the circle, making sure that the ground was clear.

Valetea nodded, not daring to say anything. She gave a sideways glance at Hasa, and the two of them left together, returning to the village. She knew she was lucky. Lord Silas was angry, that much she could tell. Nascus was...she didn't know. The two may have been friends from an early age, but Valetea still couldn't read him. Hasa looked in the direction of the river.
"Hm? What is it my friend?" Valetea asked the wolf, who growled.

Iesheen was positioned across the river, well hidden in a tree. He was still on Light Elf territory, so he was doing nothing wrong. He was about to though. A young male wolf walked along the bank of the river. Using his talent, the elf told the beast to go and get the she-elf who shared the talent with wolves. The male looked arounf a few times, as if trying to see who was speaking to him. After a few seconds, the wolf trotted off, twords the direction of the village.

Valetea was surprised to see Deken, one of the younger males of Hasa's pack, come running up to her. "Deken, my friend, what on earth has gotten into you?"
After a few seconds of conversing, Valetea was intrigued enough to follow him, with Hasa followed cautiosly. The Alpha female was not very trusting of the younger males, and this one seemed to be up to something.

Iesheen smiled when he saw Valetea. "There you are, my lovely prey." He notched a posioned arrow onto his bow, and shot. The arrow made a whizzing sound as it passed through the air, and Valetea heard it coming. She doged, but not fast enough. The arrow grazed her right forearm. She hissed, looking back and forth quickly to see who the enemy was. That was when everything started to go black. The posion on the blade was fast acting, quickly nocking the she elf out, forcing her into a deep sleep. Hasa and Deken had taken cover in a nearby bush, watching. Hasa knew things were bad when the male Light-elf came and carried Valetea off, back in the direction of the Light Elf Village. Snarling a warning to her pack member, she raced back through the woods, back through the marshes, back to Silas.

One of his own had been captured. She was in danger. Hasa knew that if they didn't recover Valetea soon, they might very well never see her agian.

Hasa Came back upon the scene of the man lying dead on the ground, Silas, Tchata, and Nascus standing over him. Tchata was getting ready to begin the Purification Ritual. The young human girl was sobbing. Hasa stopped for a brief moment, panting. Tchata could understand her, but interupting a Purification was never a good idea. But if nothing was done then Valetea would surely...Hasa shook her head, growling. The fur around her neck and down along her spine was standing on end.

Tchata! The she-wolf called out to the Dark-elf High Priestess. Valetea has been abducted by one of the Light-Elves!He's headed back to his village!

There was something odd in the air this night, there was no noise to be heard in the forest. The moon seemed stronger than before, the forest felt like it was dying. The air was stuffy, you could feel it even if you didn't pay attention. Beatru was standing outside her room, she couldn't sleep. This happened other times before, but she didn't like it at all. It's like an old power is out, and it's ready to kill, she thought, it's most likely the work of those dark elves, they're always up to mischief. She broke out of her trance as she noticed someone walking up to her, it looked like one of the guards. "You're supposed to be in bed, there are too many dangers that happen out here at night. It'd be safer if you went inside," the male guard said, he was one of the nicer guards there were and Beatru never learned his name. "Thank you for the warning, I'll be inside right away." With a bow from the guard and a nod from Beatru, they turned their backs to each other and went their ways.

Something is wrong, I want to find out but it's too dangerous to go on my own, I'll have to make plans the next time this happens. With that final thought, she closed her eyes and eventually fell asleep.

Silas peered at his son when approached him, peering at the jewellery in his pale grasp. His crimson eyes flashed momentarily with old grief as he examined the picture of his long dead wife. The little painting did her little justice, but her image was enough to get him thinking about her again which was the last thing he needed. He brushed his fingertips over the image before nodding at the boy and gesturing for him to leave. The finishing of the kill had been messier than he’d liked, and he was now flecked with foul human blood. His sensitive ears twitched as he cast a glance at his wailing prisoner, who was sobbing and murmuring incoherently into her knees.

“Her gods will be of no help here. They do not walk in our woods.”

He murmured, patting the human girl’s hair in an attempt to calm her down. He would have hissed at her and told her to be silent in normal circumstances, but there was a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach and the moonlight fell on his eyes each time he thought of reprimanding her. The Goddess was warning him, giving him the same guilty feeling he got when he thought of hunting a rabbit or young fowl. He exhaled through his nose, much like an old stallion would. He patted the girl once more, watching Valtea head off as she was told.

Silas took a step back, gently moving the girl back with him as Tchata began the ritual. It was a beautiful process and made Tchata all the more stunning. He watched with the fascinated look of a child. The colors of mother of pearl staining her ebony skin. His own skin had been a similar color upon his birth, but had gradually faded to the metallic gray he now wore. He observed with a look they may have been more than tribal affection, but he quelled it quickly. Such thoughts were not allowed after the loss of mate, save for if it was with another widow or someone who never intended to fully mate. Tchata was far too beautiful to waste her affections on an old man like himself.

Not long after the ritual began and Valtea had lift, Hasa came bounding back into the clearing, hair on end and teeth showing. Silas had never seen the mother in such a state, especially in the presence of the priestess. He approached the she-wolf silently and crouched beside her, reading her frantic eyes. He couldn’t communicate directly with wolves, always having had more of connection with birds of prey, but he knew she was distressed, enough to interrupt a ritual.
He stood up, quickly taking his hostage by the arm so she was forced to stand. Seeing that she was clearly still in shambles, he tossed her over his broad shoulder like a small child. The moment Tchata expressed what the problem was, he would drop the girl off at the village and attend to the problem. There was too much happening tonight.

Tchata flushed cold, even as the words of the ritual continued out of her mouth. Hasa's call came to her in words, but much more of it came in a river of images and smells and feelings and it took a valuable second for her to get her head out above it. She stumbled in the incantation and then hissed at a sharp burning pain in her side. She was channelling a lot of energy from the goddess, energy that could be very destructive. No one was completely pure, not even a high priestess. If she interrupted the flow in the wrong way, she could seriously injure herself or the others in the clearing. Gritting her teeth against the slight throbbing pain, Tchata tried to move quickly through the process. She was aware of Silas at the she-wolf's side, the human over his shoulder, ready to fly at her signal. In that moment, she felt a rush of gratitude to him, for understanding the situation. She bounced on her toes as she spoke the words to seal the power on her side and send it back to the moon...

Finally! She turned sharply, wincing at the backlash of her sloppy endwork and leaned on the handle of her axe. "To the river, Nightshade!" she gasped hoarsely. "It's Valetea-- a light-elf... go! The edge of the river where the two logs fall to make a cross, close where the women draw our water. Leave the girl, I'll take her to the village and follow with the warriors." She screwed her eyes shut, listening to the absence of sound that meant her chief was running. "Be careful!" she shouted frantically.

Gritting her teeth, Tchata forced the dizziness under control and lugged the girl over her own shoulder. She had ceased her obnoxious sobbing and was now sniffling quietly, looking dazed. Tchata did not speak to her as she ran with Hasa on her heels back to the village where the bonfire still roared and the children had begun to dance. How had she missed this?

Goddess be praised, she found a warrior on guard on the outskirts. She practically threw the girl at him. "Place her in my quarters, I want guards at the door. No one goes in with her and she does not come out. Tell Saine and Katla to bring their warriors, they will follow my path. Tell them to come armed. Tallow and Hil will put their warriors on alert, keep everyone within the village, patrols everything." The warrior stood still for a second too long, gaping, and Tchata's lip curled into a snarl. "Now!" she snapped. When the guard finally started moving, she turned and sprinted toward the place she had described, breaking branches and brushing against trees as she went, hoping to leave a followable trail.

All that Valetea felt was cold and pain. What's happened? She thought. She was vaugly aware that she was being carried, and through a part of the woods other than the marshes. The black cold swirling about in her head made it hard to concentrait. The one carrying her shifted her wieght and seemed to realize that she was awake.
"Hello, Valetea. I hope you won't die on me too easily. I want you to suffer for me. I want you to experience all the pain and agony that my parents suffered. If you can do that for me, then perhaps I'll be satisfied with your death, and won't go after any more of your tribe. Is that aceptable, my dark-skinned sister?" A high, cold, male voice drifted to her from what seemed far away. After contemplating what might be going on, Valetea succumbed to the darkness again.
Iesheen smiled to himself. He was going to have fun killing this one. After about two minuets, he had the Dark-elf safely bound and hidden in his home. he put up the neccesary spells so that his people wouldn't sense her. He had just enough posion running through her body to keep her alive, but in imense pain, which was what he wanted. After all, Valetea's father had killed both of his parents. And he, Iesheen, had killed hers, as well as her younger brother, Mortgen. Killing them had been an imense sweetness, and he had savored the pain etched on their faces.


I apologize for interupting you and causing you pain, Preistess. Hasa said gently as she ran by Tchata's side.

Silas’ feet flew over the wet ground. His bright silver hair flew out behind him as he threw himself into a near gallop, the ringing of the river growing ever louder in his long ears. He closed the distance faster than any of his kind or any other could match, the birds even looking on him with an envious eye. His boots dug into the wet ground as he skidded to a stop, thin chest not bothered by the hard run in the least. He drew his bow and knocked a poisoned arrow, eyes sliding smoothly over the landscape as his ears opened to the night.

Bugs, birds and all the creatures of the forest but not a single elven footfall anywhere near him. He frowned and slunk over to the crossed trees, crouching. He could follow Valtea’s light tracks as well as those of a young wolf. He ran his fingertips over the ground gently, shutting his eyes. She’d walked cautiously but without fear. The wolf’s gait was odd though, his paw prints almost dragged. He had been enchanted or something to that effect.

Silas stood tall and scowled. There was no reason for him to attach the light elves to this incident but Tchata had said… A glint of gold caught his eye. He turned, eyes narrowing sharply at the sight of a gaudily crafted arrow stuck in the earth. He wrapped a hand around the shaft and pulled it from the earth, hissing as the smell of poison assaulted his nose. He glanced at the carved head, snarling at the sight of the dark blood on the arrow. Dark elf blood.
He jerked his head towards the other side of the river, a snarl stealing his face. He had proof of their offense, right there in his hand. They had taken and maybe even killed one of his people, a woman at that. Silas Nightshade was not one to be crossed, especially by a lot of sun-loving pale-faced …man-lovers. He glanced over his shoulder, hearing Hasa and Tchata’s approach. The warriors were most certainly on their way. They would follow him across the river, straight into the home of Moonbrook.

“Tchata, begin war prayers! Tonight we walk with the moon.”

He snarled, gripping the arrow with vindication.

Tchata shook her head waved the wolf's apologies away. "The dizziness does not last long, and the energy burns cleanly. I will be fine by tomorrow." By this point a few of the swiftest warriors were right on her heels. Finally, she burst out of the trees, trying in vain to contain her hair. She breathed easier as she noticed that Silas was there, something clutched in his hands. But... something was wrong. His shoulders were knotted and hunched and his breath came in short bursts.

"Tchata." There was so much power, anger, and feeling poured into her name. It made her feel afraid. "Begin war prayers! Tonight we walk with the moon."

Tchata's eyes were wide. "Valetea?" she whispered. She took a timid step forward. "Do you know..." For one terrible moment, Tchata thought she might cry, something she hated. She curled her hands into fists and let her claws dig into her palms. Valetea was always so careful to seem strong and unaffected by her parents' deaths, but she always seemed fragile to Tchata, especially around this time. She should have been able to see this coming and warn someone. Tchata closed her eyes, turning away from her chief. "Hasa." Hasa trotted to her side. "Wake the rest of the priestess' house and tell those who understand what has happened. Tell them we cross the river." Hasa nipped her fingers, turned and galloped into the brush.

Under normal circumstances, she would stay with the village and lead them in the prayers herself. But her heart was too heavy. It would be wrong for her not to cross the river, she felt it in her bones and she had her suspicions why. When it came to the light elves, Silas Nightshade had a temper rivaled by none. A war... they could easily kill each other out of the world.

She stepped to Silas's side, her hands tight to her side, hoping desperately that he would not send her away. In a whisper, she began her prayers, swaying with the hypnotic tempo as she invoked the strength in their warriors and in her leader. "I am ready," she told him, dipping her toes in the river.