The End Of Suriak Blackblade Suriak Blackblade strode down the deserted street. The light of the full moon cast eerie shadows down the dark alleys that branched oof the road. It had been many months since he had last walked in his home city of Ghrond, but even so the streets were normally lined with Elves cavorting in all manner of twisted pleasures. A schuffling behind him broke his train of thought and he turned to face the source of the noise. A shadow darted into an alleyway, disappearing into the darkness. Probably just a rat, Suriak thought, laughing at his own nerves. Still he was close to home now and would welcome the warmth of his house. He had left his family to join one of the slave raids. For nine months the Ark of Damnation had sailed across the Sea of Chaos, launching strike raids at any settlements they happened upon. By all accounts it had been a most successful voyage and Suriak's percentage of the profits would raise the status of himself and his family a great degree. Slaves fetched a high price in the city of Ghrond, and Suriak was pleased with his cut. At least he would be able to leave the lower outskirts of the city and move into one of the towers that overlooked this dangerous quarter. He would be thankful when he could escape this rough area where murder and theft were everyday occurrences. Perhaps he would even be able to to purchase on of the slaves that the raids had captured. Another sound behind him caused Suriak to turn once more. This time the noise was too loud to be mistaken for vermin. A short distance behind him he could see the silhouette of and Elf facing him. By the lenght of the figure's hair he guessed it must be female. In her hands she held two wickedly curved blades, and stood motionless facing him. As Suriak glanced back over his shoulder he saw that his route had also been blocked by another woman. A sudden thought caused his heart to beat intensely. The deserted streets, a full moon, how foolish could he have been. Tonight was Death Night, when the Witch Elves emerged to revel in the shedding of blood and the slaughter of innocents. The two Elves started to walk toward Suriak. Their movement was graceful and had they not clutched deadly blades in their hands it would have been alluring. As they drew closer, Suriak could make out their attractive sharp features. Visages of astounding beauty, their long flowing black hair seemed to move with a life of its own. Their slim and shapely bodies were barely covered by a small amount of purple silk cloth, their long, pale legs ending in knee high, black leather boots. Had Suriak not known of their dark intent then he would have truly been in paradice, but these were Witch Elves. If he were to stand any chance of surviving this encounter he could not let his mind become clouded by their stunning apperance. Carefully drawing his own blade he slowly backed towards a wall, using it to guard his rear. The Witch Elves now stood before him. He could see by their bloodshot eyes and dilated pupils that their minds were under the spell of the legendary potions that created a lust for blood. "You have two choises," one of the Elves spoke to him. Even her voice was seductive, "You can come quietly with us, experience pleasures the like of which are beyond your wildest imagination before learning the true meaning of pain, or..." the Elf ran her finger down the lenght of her blade, "we can offer your body in holy sacrifice to Khaine where you stand." The Witch Elves invitation was a tempting offer but Suriak preferred to remain alive and neither of those options gave any such allowance. He thrust his sword towards one of the Witches and prepared for battle. She parried the blow easily, bringing both her weapons in an upward thrust at his torso. He had barely dodged the attack before the second Elf was upon him swinging her blades straight for his neck. He managed to to duck drawing a small dagger from his boot as he did so. Again the first Elf came at him. Anticipating her action, he quickly stepped to one side. The Witch Elf was over balanced and, as she passed him, he thrust out whit the dagger, driving it deep into her rib cage. As the second assailant charged him, all he could do was kick out with his boot, but he connected with knee and sent her stumbling to the floor for a moment. Suriak sprinted away down the street, thanking his his good luck and the combat experience gained in the previous months. His home was close by and if he didn't get indoors he would be dead by morning. As he rounded the corner his heart sank. There before him the door to his home hung loosely from it hinges. Suriak bound into the hallway. The runes of Khaine had been traced in blood upon each wall of his small house. As he ran into his bed chamber a bloody heap in the far corner confirmed his worst fears. His wife lay dead, a sword in her hand, where she had tried to fend off the murderous intruders. In the centre of the room a crib lay broken and empty. If only he had been here to protect them instead seeking fortunes abroad. He did not hear the Witch Elf enter the room behind him, nor did he care as her poisoned blade cut a small scratch into his exposed back. Suriak groggily opened his eyes. He could not move his arms or legs and his mind span with clouded visions. A musky incense filled his nostrils and in the dim light of the candles he could see a massive statue of Khaine towering above the altar upon which he was bound. "At last, the sleeping one wakes." He had heard the smooth and sultry voice before. The evening's events flooded back into his memory and Suriak struggled to free himself. "It is futile to attempt escape, you are tightly bound. By struggling you will only prolong the agony. Come relax, believe me you will enjoy the experience far more if you free your mind to us." The Witch Elf leant over Suriak, her full red lips kissed forehead as she gently caressed his long dark hair. "Your spouse fought well, she must have been a brave warrior before she bore your child." The Witch Elf laughed as she saw Suriak resume to his struggle to break from the chains at the mention of his daughter. She drew a curved ceremonial dagger and ran the cold flat steel blade across Suriak's exposed chest. "Fear not, the infant still lives and will make a fine addition to our coven."