Dramalhoardd’s War

The taunting voice brought Daramlhoardd’s eye back to focus on the delicate, tanned face. He roared, “All of your house are liars, it is what you have been born to. My son would never yield his sword. He would sooner die first.”
“He surrendered because he recognized the rightness of my father’s claim to the throne of the nine cities.”
Daramlhoardd shouted again,“You lie.” This time his voice was not as full of conviction as before. “You will be held as a surety for his release.”
The night air was rent with a loud whinny. Four white fetlocks shone as silver and the body of the tall horse gleamed like the purest of dwarf gold in the moonlight. He trotted through the place of death, careful not to step on the bodies.
“Xzyander,” Galowyn’s soft, sweet voice trembled, “Run, my beautiful friend, run away from here.”
Galowyn’s great steed, that always obeyed her slightest command ignored her and kept coming.
Her voice was filled with fear as she called again, “Go home, my faithful companion.”
Gravel crunched under the hooves as the horse continued towards her.
Daramlhoardd yelled, “Catch that beast. Catch that beast and bring it here.” He directed his foul gaze back to his captive. “I take it, that this one you call Dwarf Gold, is yours?”
Xzyander did not fight as half a dozen thin elfish ropes were tossed over its aristocratic head.
“Alderod, the voice was cold, commanding, “Plunge your sword deep into this beast’s heart. Catch me the blood as it pours out. I have a thirst that only blood can quench.”
“Sire?”

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