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Eliana screamed, arching her back in pleasure. Her nails raking Jeselith’s bare chest painfully, leaving bloodied marks. Jeselith grunted in pain and smiled down at the woman, sprawled out before him, her brilliantly golden hair forming a halo around her head. “You are so beautiful dear” She giggled at that, reaching over for a small ornately carved goblet filled with a rich, honey wine, sitting on a small table beside the bed. Jeselith grinned, lowering his head, lips meeting hers fiercely. After a moment Jeselith slipped down to kiss her neck, gently at first…

Eliana groaned then begin to thrash, the wine goblet clattering to the floor, desperately trying to brake away from Jeselith. The male kept his weight and lips firmly on her. Less than several heartbeats later her struggling ceased. Jeselith rose smoothly, his naked body glistening with sweat. Sighing softly the Sin’dorei gazed down at Eliana’s still form. How he hated this curse. The need to draw on the essence of the living troubled him greatly. Yet, it had become necessary to survive. Jeselith slipped into his darkly coloured robes and sat back down beside Eliana, stroking her forehead slowly. He took a long moment to compose himself, both hands set upon Eliana’s face. The sorcerer began to chant softly, under his breath, Jeselith’s startling jade eyes not braking from Eliana’s face. With painstaking care he began to replace her memories of the night’s passion, one by one.

Eliana had left the tavern and bade the raven haired young man goodnight. Then she had taken the long path home, wandering aimlessly through the Bazaar, stopping to examine a few late night stalls before entering her chambers.

Jeselith broke his eye contact with her and removed his hands from her now pale looking face. The girl was lucky, he thought. Had he been more desperate he would have drained her entire life-force, leaving her merely a husk, dead in mind and soul, as he had been sadly forced to do several times now over the long, lonely years. He climbed to his feet, swaying unsteadily, the usual feeling of elation and drunkenness assailing him. Eliana began to stir slightly, moaning in her sleep, moving a hand to the small bite mark on her neck. Jeselith frowned, annoyed at his own barbaric act. He had not found the chance to use the small metal claws to pierce her flesh, instead he had been forced to crudely use his own teeth.

Eliana’s eyes slowly opened and she looked up, a chilling gust of wind sweeping through her room, a shadow darting through the open window. She rose, shivering, wrapping the fine crimson quilt around her and moving over to the window. Swinging the shutters closed, Eliana fell back to her bed, a nauseating sickness beginning in the pit of her stomach. “Too much wine for me tonight I think” the girl muttered, closing her eyes once more. As she drifted off to sleep an image stuck fast in her mind, as if imprinted on the insides of her eyelids. Those startlingly brilliant jade eyes, mysterious and deep, she became lost within their hypnotising gaze.


“Kill him! Kill the monster!” The woman screamed. Jeselith spun away from the now dead body, the decapitating blow instead cutting deeply into his shoulder.

The warrior came at Jeselith again, blade sailing through the air towards his unprotected chest. Jeselith's long, tapered sabre flew out too meet his attacker’s blade. The Sin’dorei warrior’s eyes widened in surprise and he angled another strike at the sorcerer’s chest. Jeselith spun backwards and down in one graceful movement, reversing his blade, plunging it through his attacker’s bowels, a satisfying scream accompanying it. The Watchman fell back, clutching his stomach, shrieking in agony. Jeselith stood quickly and surveyed the room for more attackers. The tavern-keeper had fled the room already. He could still hear her muffled shrieks of panic in the common room below. The second Watchman, more cautious than his doomed companion, had drawn his shortblade and was edging warily around the silken bedroom, unwilling to go near the body of Jeselith’s prey. The sorcerer spoke quietly, his cold voice betraying no fear of the approaching warrior, “Do you really want to follow the same fate as your companion?” “You are a criminal and shall be dealt with!” The Watchman’s voice was tinged with fear. As he had uttered his reply, the warrior had come within striking distance. Jeselith smiled grimly, pivoting off one foot and diving towards the oncoming Elf. The Watchman stumbled, surprised at the sudden attack. Jeselith’s spellsword flew through the empty air where moments before the lucky Watchman’s head had been. The Sorcerer recovered quickly. He landed, rolling besides the Watchman, blade thrusting out again. The other man reacted quickly. But not nearly fast enough. He stumbled once again toppling to the floor, the deadly spelled steel emerging from his neck. Jeselith sighed wearily, wiping his precious blade clean on the robes of the dead man. The first Watchman was now dead, laying some several feet away, his clothes stained with blood and piss, bowels unclenching at the moment of death.

Once more Jeselith slipped out into the night, leaving death in his wake. That had become his legacy and trade… death. The sound of armoured boots striking against stone floated down the street, Jeselith spun into a low side alley besides the path, flattened against the dark stone wall, cloaked by the clinging shadows. A dozen armoured soldiers, sporting the flaming Phoenix symbol of Silvermoon rushed down the path towards the Inn, unaware of the living shadow lurking in the alleyway.

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