Death had come to the forest of the elves. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, darkness filled all of the space between the trees. A light layer of snow was on the ground, carpeting the forest floor. Through it all, a dark figure moved. Another shadow in the darkness, one who could not be stopped by simple sentries who sat in the trees. Even keen elf eyes would have trouble spotting him, and any that did would soon die. At his side stood the royal hound that he had aquired not too long ago. It was time to see what his new familiar could do, but Death was going to be going with the hound, making sure that nothing happened to him. After having gone through the trouble of getting the hound, Death wasn't about to chance losing him to a lucky elf with a bow. All in all, it looked like there was an interesting night ahead of the two of them.

The wind died down, silence falling on the forest. To the elven sentry up in a tree, all was well in the light. Little did he know that Death lurked at the base of his perch. With a small signal, the hound began climbing the tree, it's claws latching onto the bark without a sound. Death's eyes followed it carefully, easily picking out it's dark shape as it slithered up the tree. To anyone watching, it would seem as though the elf's head simply fell forward as though he were asleep; however, Death had seen the lightning strike that the hound had made, slitting the elf's throat with a clawed paw. When the hound came back down to the ground, Death rested his hand on one of it's heads for a second, before swiftly walking on.

Death took care of the next guard himself, simply teleporting behind the guard. Sitting down in the branches, Death slowly pulled a knife out of the folds of his cloak. The knife, aptly named "skullshredder", lived up to it's name, easily piercing the elf's skull, killing him instantly. The elf dropped from the tree before Death could grab him, falling with a muffled thump to the ground below. Dropping from the branches, Death once again moved on, the hound following like a shadow. Moments later, he came in sight of the buildings that the elves lived in. A grim smile came to his face, now the contest would truly begin. In the distance a horn sounded. Apparently the the first dead guard had been found. Cries of alarm came from between the houses as the guards in the city heard the horn. Death was thrilled, he was glad that the rest of the night wouldn't be simply killing people while they were unalert. There was no sport in it. Without a sound, Death set off, simply another shadow making it's way through the city. The night had just begun.

Wandering through the forest and following a trail via his heightened sense of smell, though no trail in particular...really, whatever he could pick up...the red-furred fox-boy known as Darkfire trudged along, his hands as always in his pockets, hoping to finally find something of interest to him after spending days and days in absolute boredom.

Quickly noticing where he was due to a warning shot from a bow clearly high up in the trees hitting the tree next to him, he glanced over to the slightly quivering arrow unconcernedly. If only he still had his actual flames...but alas, the one that he'd been created from years ago had taken them with him upon their separation. Now all that remained was some necromancy, and whatever other powers he steadily awakened inside himself.

Glancing up to where the archer must be, he smirked lightly, rushing forward and weaving to the side occasionally, dodging each arrow that came at him as if he knew exactly when and where it would come, which in a sense he did. This archer wanted to play? Fine, he'd play, but his playmate wouldn't enjoy his definition of it.

Letting a dark, fearful aura build around him, he smirked once more as the arrows stopped for a few moments, all the time he needed to thrust his claws out of his pockets and swing up onto a nearby branch, letting his natural instincts take him from there to the point where he was standing on the same branch as the elf, a small cut on his side where an arrow had grazed him in mid-air, claws through the nimble creature's throat.

Then, letting the elf fall back to the ground, Darkfire looked around from the good view of the elven city that he'd just been given, which seemed to be on alarm. Someone else was here...making his way back down the trees, he hurried over to the entrance to the city, slipping his hands, ever-burning with a faint dark flame, back into his pockets, looking around to see what the commotion was about.

Rallika shivered in the cold night. Something was not right here. Something...sinister was at work here. He approached the gate leading into the Elven city and saw dead guards on the ground. Now he knew something was wrong. One guard was left but he was too freaked out to keep his bow steady. "S-s-s-s-ta-a-y o-o-ut! No t-t-re-e-espa-s-s-s-ers!" "I'm not here to cause trouble! In fact maybe I could help?" The elf pulled himself together and explained the situation. "This black hooded guy carrying a scythe killed two of the guards here. A fox with fiery hands killed a third. I'm the only one left." "I know one of them definitely and the other, maybe. How did you survive?" "I just kept out of sight! I knew this cold was unnatural!" "Alright, I'll check it out. You stay here and keep anyone else from entering with permission alright?" "Yeah sure, whatever. Just so long as you kill those guys I'm fine." Why would Darkfire do such a thing? Wait a minute, when we met he told me he was evil! I should have seen this coming!

Rallika entered the city and saw guards running about. It's worse than I thought. One of the guards saw him. "Are you here to help us? If so, turn back now! If any outsiders die here our king will be held responsible!" "Maybe, maybe not but I'm staying here no matter what!" "Fine, its your funeral." The guard left Rallika and he continued on his way. He saw Darkfire a little ahead. "Hey Darkfire! I want a word with you!"

A faint tingling warned Death that one of his followers was near. Stopping for a second to get what direction the follower was coming from. Concentrating, Death pinpointed the direction, turning to face that way. In the alley where he stood, he ended up facing the wall of the building next to him. Without a sound, Death unsheathed his dark blade. Using the magic of the blade, black, draconic wings grew from his back. Taking a few experimental flaps, Death leapt into the air, swiftly flying over the building roof. Without a sound Death flew, barely clearing the buildings, maintaining a balance between speed and remaining hidden. Finally, he landed on one roof with hardly any sound. The wings dissappeared, and his royal hound ran up to him. It had scaled the walls with it's claws and run along the roofs, leaping across the gaps.

Peering at the streets below, Death soon spotted a familiar figure. The follower was a fox like being called Darkfire. For a moment, Death simply watched Darkfire, noticing another figure who was running up to the fox. Whatever business his follower had in the city of the elves, it mattered little to him. Crouching down slightly, Death saw another elf hurrying through the alley next to the house. Waiting for the exact moment when the elf ran below him, Death struck. With a whispered spell, a grapple of dark energy shot downwards, grabbing the elf around the chest. Yanking the elf upwards, Death impaled the elf with his sword, watching the pained expression for a few seconds as blood flowed from the hole in the elf's chest. Without a sound, Death let the elf drop to the ground.

A shout caused Death to turn his head. Another elf stood in the alley, and he had spotted the dark figure standing on the roof. Now the fun would begin. Turning, Death raced along the roof, intending to make his way around the city. Just before he reached the edge, he stopped, turning once more to look at the main street. Raising his hand, Death whispered another spell, planning on creating more chaos and destruction. A bar of red lightning shot from his hand, aimed down at one of the buildings. It burned across the night sky and struck with a loud explosion, immediately catching the building on fire. Now the whole city would awake, and the hunt would become a more difficult challange. Dropping over the edge of the roof, Death landed lightly on the snow in the alley. Once again he raced off, a swiftly moving shadow that was intent on killing where it willed.

"Hey Darkfire! I want a word with you!" he heard a familiar voice shout out, and tried to place it, something he was good at if he ever gave half a care. Hm...Rellika? No, that wasn't quite right...Rallika...yes, that was it, from back in Lomedor with the ordeal with that pathetic 'Shadow Cult', and that 'heir', both of which he still didn't know what was about unfortunately. Anyway...so he wanted a word with him, did he? Well, as long as he didn't think that Darkfire was some kind of friend or ally of his, or especially some kind of good guy, because he wasn't, by any means.

His ears perking up, Darkfire noticed the sound of wingbeats, seemingly light and probably experimental at first before forceful enough to carry their owner into the air. Ignoring them for the moment, Darkfire turned to Rallika, smirking lightly.

"Sorry, I'm kind of busy right now looking for this other person who's here, and now I think I have a pretty good guess of who it is. If you wanna talk, talk to that elf I slew...if you can," he said, smirking evilly, and rushed off, moments before an arrow shot out from just outside the entrance of the city, aimed straight for the elven guard; an elven arrow, obviously from an elven bow. Had they not known earlier what he meant, they knew now, as the slowly decaying elf nocked his bow once more with a fresh arrow, walking slowly and silently into the city. That was one of Darkfire's powers: returning to life under his control those he slew with his claws, though their bodies only lasted up to a further hour. A small problem, no doubt, but one he'd eventually work through. Right now, though, he was concerned with finding this other person here, which didn't take long thanks to his proficiency at tracking, when he came up right in front of the creature's path.

"I had a feeling it was you...how long has it been since that sad, failed little meeting I called, anyway?" Darkfire asked in his cold, slightly growling voice, though it was clear he wasn't serious about the question. "Hope you don't mind some company, things've been too peaceful for far too long."

"Sorry, I'm kind of busy right now looking for this other person who's here, and now I think I have a pretty good guess of who it is. If you wanna talk, talk to that elf I slew...if you can." "Wait, you only killed one? Then someone else killed two of the elves there. Fortunately one was hiding and told me everything he knew. Who else is with you Darkfire? And what is it exactly that you want?" An arrow flew and hit a wall just in front of Rallika's face. Some elves saw them and one of them yelled. "Kill them! Kill them all!" Darkfire brought one back to life through necromancy. "I had a feeling it was you...how long has it been since that sad, failed little meeting I called, anyway?" "Wh-what are you talking about?" More arrows flew from different directions as they were soon surrounded. "Hope you don't mind some company, things've been too peaceful for far too long." Rallika let out a sigh then yelled at the top of his voice. He transformed into demon form and drew Raku's Bane. An explosion boomed across the city and more elves were alert. "It's a demon! Kill it first!" "What was that?" "You're a demon!" "Yeah that and that explosion! Racist are you? I'll settle that soon enough." Rallika gripped his axe tight and held it into the air. "Blade of Flames!" The axe blades quickly flared up and blazing fire surrounded them. An elf fired an arrow but it got near the flames and a spark made contact with it and lit up the arrow. The fire burned all but the arrowhead and it landed at Rallika's feet. "Now you people have really ticked me off."

Death watched as Darkfire came up to him, unconcerned now about being spotted by anyone. The time for stealth was past, setting the buildings on fire had taken care of that. For a moment, Death wondered how it came to be that one of his followers had decided to come to the elf city on the same night has him. That wasn't important at the moment, so Death pushed it to the side. Turning his eyes back to Darkfire's face, he spoke quietly, "Do whatever you want, I care little. Just make sure that I do not have to pay you a visit on the other side of life." With that admonition, Death walked past Darkfire, heading for the main street where the elves were inevitably gathering. A raised voice came to his ears, informing him that yet another person was playing with the elves tonight. It was a strange coincidence, and one that intrigued Death.

As he walked, Death allowed his weapons to leave him, each disappearing in turn. The great scythe, the sword, both knives, they all vanished, leaving him apparently weaponless. Only a fool would go with appearences though, for he was already casting more magic. As he walked, his bony hands grew large, razor sharp claws, elongating until they were several inches long. Once that was done, a second spell was cast, a newer one that he wanted to experiment with. Whispering quietly, several spikes burst from him. Arms, shoulders, back, the spikes seemed to create a sort of armor. Each one was at least two inches long, with a point that would pierce dragonhide. All in all, the claws and spikes greatly changed his appearence and made him into a formidable figure.

Stepping into the main street, he saw a large group of elves at one end, bows up, arrows knocked. Further away from them was a person with a flaming axe who was the target of their arrows. Upon his arrival, one of the elves let out a random shot at him, unsure exactly who he was, but certain that he meant no good. For his part, Death barely seemed to move, simply swaying to one side and letting the arrow embed itself in the house behind him. Turning, he simply stared at the elf who had fired at him, his eyes shining out of the hood of his cloak. Now the rest of the elves had seen him, and they hesitated for a second, unsure of what to do. Bringing up his hand in a swift motion, Death flung one of the spikes out of his bodying, sending it straight at the elf who had shot at him. The spike struck the elf in the throat, piercing the skin easily before stopping at the bone. With a gurgle, the elf fell to the ground, his blood staining the white snow. With that done, Death simply stared at the elves, watching them. It wasn't over, for he was already hearing sounds of elven feet on the rooftops, attempting to surround the trio of evil doers.