Daramlhoardd’s War

Two defiant blue eyes glared into Daramlhoardd’s rheumy green one. A gob of purple and green, hawked out of a slender throat flew through the air and landed on the elf lord’s face.
If looks could kill or wither, the glaring, hate filled eye would have felled the blond haired elf princess where she stood. A cold, malevolent grin spread in an instant across the salt and pepper bearded face. A heavy mailed fist lanced out, glimmered, shimmered in the moonlight.
A rebellious smile lit up the sculptured face. Drops of blood dripped out of her open mouth, down a perfect chin, down snowy neck. “Is that all you have,” the soft defiant voice ,caused the few knights gathered around their lord to cringe at this shameful deed.
No elf worth their salt would strike a maiden, no matter who her father was.
“I’ll have no insolence from you,” the elf lord paused, “You base born whelp.” The last words were spat out as if there was a bitter taste to them. “Now what has the coward of a father done to my son. If one hair of his head has been harmed, I’ll give you fifty lashes and then feed you to the wolves of Grayhome Woods.”
“No harm has come to Prince Karodem.” The soft reply caused the night birds to pause in their song. “He yielded his sword without fighting.”
“You lie,” a mailed fist once more glinted in the moonlight.

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