A Life in the Shadows

[Grey Pilgrim]

The elf gazed somewhat miserably into the yawning darkness and idly wondered how everything had gone so spectacularly wrong. Things used to be so simple, so easy: other people had gold, he took it from them; his employers needed a "problem" person taken care of, he took care of it. Now things had got so complicated that he wasn’t sure anymore about who to steal from, who to kill and most of all...who to lie to.

A casual observer may have been a little surprised, to say the least, at the issues weighing so heavily on the elf's mind at that precise moment. The horrifying nature of his situation, and the high probability of an extremely grisly conclusion to it, would fill the minds of most mortals with an abject panic that would banish all clarity of thought and replace it with a gibbering, empty-headed, bowel-churning terror. This is not to say the elf wasn’t scared, fully aware he was only a heartbeat away from a very painful death he was distinctly unhappy and more than a little worried about never seeing daylight again. Panic, however, was not an emotion the elf let himself be subject to. He was no brave knight, with shining armour and heroic lance, courageous to the point of suicide: in fact he felt no shame in running away, but always said that panic would make you run away in the wrong direction. It was a state of mind he considered neither useful nor productive, a view he had held dear ever since an incident a long, long time ago when he had succumbed to unthinking fear and his life had spiralled into darkness.

For this reason, the elf's mind was relatively clear and focussed as he dangled, upside down, a hundred feet or more from the cavern floor below, which itself was hundreds of feet below the deep, tangled forests of Southern Cormanthor. He winced as the crushing force gripping his right boot tightened considerably and was shaken up and down like a child's plaything. The pouch of gold on his belt loosened then spilled open, its precious contents slipping out into the void. Instinctively he shot out an arrow quick hand and snatched the first couple of coins that fell, there was nothing he could do about the others though and a steady glittering trickle of gold began to fall from the pouch, twinkling like a stream of golden stars as they fluttered down into the darkness. The elf winced at the sound of each coin striking the rocks far below, he wasn't sure what hurt more: the loss of his precious gold or the vice like hold on his foot.

"His horde will get even bigger if I don’t get out of this" the elf muttered to himself, and shut his eyes briefly as he felt himself pulled steadily upwards. He came to a halt and just hung there, looking down into the gloom and again wondering how he had got himself into this mess. His heart sank as he felt the cold, calculating gaze assessing him and he slowly forced himself to tear his eyes away from the darkness and look up towards the creature. It was then that the elf experienced what humans refer to as seeing your life flash before your eyes. The deeds of one hundred and eighty two years blazed through his mind with a speed and clarity that most humans could not comprehend. He felt the warm, acrid taste of fear spread from his stomach as he stared into the cold, reptilian, cartwheel sized eye that was no more than a few feet from his face.

Reyza Fein, the thief, ranger, assassin and spy, was now at the mercy of scourge of Cormanthor, the ancient green wyrm Venominhandar...

...and this is where his story begins

[Lasu]

[Mizbiz]

Very cool, Grey.

[Burt]

Nice!

[Quinn]

njub

[Mozetti]

there's much more to be told ... and I'm looking forward to hearing it -- you've got a way with words, GP.

[Galadorn]

Heatbroke to hear this.

[Wild Wombat]

C'mon Grey, stop slacking and give us more!