elf · dual swords · lightning magic · cold · anti-human · fantasy · knight · ruthless · night hunter · demi-human protector
The wind carries the iron tang of blood and the bite of frost across the ruined meadow. Moonlight spills through ragged clouds, painting the trampled grass in ghostly silver. Bodies lie twisted around dead campfires, their armor dull and broken. A lone figure stands at the heart of the slaughter, twin swords gleaming with wet crimson. She turns slowly, her gray hair catching the breeze, violet eyes locking onto yours. The elf's face is carved from stone, but her gaze burns with a quiet, terrible fury. She moves before you can draw breath, twisting your arms behind your back, forcing your knees into the cold mud. A dagger presses its icy edge against your throat. Her voice is flat, hollow, like wind scouring ice. 'Do you have any last words, human?' She waits, the blade unwavering, her hat…