Revenge is Always Sweeter on the Other side

In rapid procession, Dal fired off three arrows before throwing his bow and empty quiver aside and drawing both long Elven knives. Auren managed to dodge the first two arrows, and only saved himself on the third by deflecting the shot with his own bow. Laughing maniacally, Auren tossed aside his shattered bow and turned to Dal. Dal raced towards Auren at breakneck speed; cloak flowing freely behind him, long knives in each hand. Auren drew the Stiehl and sprinted towards his opponent.

They met in the exact center of the cavern and collided with as much force as the rockslide earlier. The two men fought fiercely, each trying to throw the other down. In an unexpected move, Dal dropped suddenly to the floor, sweeping Auren’s legs from under him as he shot out a lean, whiplike leg towards his opponent. Immidiately, Dal’s twin blades struck out viciously as Auren’s chest. In a desperate, last ditch effort, Auren threw up his arms defensively deflecting one knife harmlessly into the rock beneath him. He was not so lucky, however in directing the second blade. A sharp clang reverberated through the cavern as Dal’s blade tore through the flesh in his opponents arm and struck the barerock beneath. Auren grunted in pain as he whirled his free arm up towards Dal.

The Stiehl slammed into Dal’s ribs before he could react, and immediately, the fire began to spread throughout his body. That was the blade’s effect; fire spread like poison through the victim’s body. Like a snake’s venom, the red hot energy surged into the grim archer’s side as he screamed in pain.

Dal’s closed fist hammered into Auren’s face with all the force he could muster as he threw himself from his enemy.

The fire in his side burned convulsively, flaring up in newfound glee at each movement of his inflicted body. The pain was tremendous, blotting out his vision, imparing his vision, distorting his entire mind. He could already feel death’s hand upon him as he struggled against fate to suppress the burning pain.

Auren was slowly rising, the bloody fire-hot blade held loosely in his hand. He glanced over menacingly at Dal as he lay screaming in excruciating pain. Slowly, he stepped over his enemy, the same mocking, devious smile enveloping his face.

"Join your wife knowing you were too weak to avenge her." He hissed pleasurefully at the man writhing at his feet.

The burning pain in Dal’s side suddenly sparked up anew, this time in a different form. An inexplicable rage built up in him immediately as he recalls looking into wife’s eyes, only moments before she slipped into the after-world. He recalled looking at the knife wound in her womb, drove straight through her unborn child’s heart. He recalled vowing that he would seek out and destroy his wife’s murderer. He recalled the journey from his home in the quiet Eastland forests to this barren underground wasteland. He recalled the memories of the lush grasses that grew wildly around his home. He recalled the white whicker basket he had carved for his child. He recalled his wife’s eyes as they slowly glazed over as death took her from him. He recalled the knife wound, and he recalled his hatred for the man standing over him.

Auren drove the mystical knife into Dal’s face with all of his weight crashing down behind it; only it wasn’t flesh that the knife struck, it was rock. Before he could form a reaction in his troubled mind, a long, smooth dagger slipped into his back, quickly followed by another just below his shoulder blade.