Traditions

Footsteps.. Silence.. Footsteps.. A breaking twig.. Silence.. The footsteps seemed to be getting closer.. The pain from the arrows.. Again footsteps.. A slowed pace.. Pain.. Footsteps.. Pain.. Silence..

He had to be standing next to the tree where Azai attempted to hide himself.. Azai needed to act fast, as the ranger was following his blood trail. Azai quickly drew his ritual knife and jumped away from the tree. The ranger looked up from the blood trail and tried to draw his sword. But the Elf was too slow, he had only drawn his sword half-way before Azai had reached him and rammed his knife into the Elf’s neck.. The High Elf fell to the ground, blood pouring from the crude wound in his neck..

Now the High Elf wasn’t laughing anymore.. Just minutes before his death he had spotted Azai, and shot an arrow in to his shoulder. Azai turned around and saw the High Elf, who was laughing at him, and quickly decided that his best chances of survival would be to flee. In Azai’s flight, the ranger shot another arrow into Azai’s back. Azai fled into the plagued woods and hid in one of the hollows of the trees.. There he had waited in ambush for the High Elf..

The pain.. The arrows.. Azai sat down on the rotten soil of the Eastern Plaguelands and carefully pulled out the first arrow.. The disgusting sound of iron, flesh and blood.. Pain.. Even more.. The second arrow.. Again the disgusting sound.. Again the wave of pain..

Azai quickly cleaned the wounds and bandaged them, hoping to prevent any infections. He then turned to the lifeless corpse of the High Elf. He instantly felt uncomfortable.. Azai knew that the spirit of the Elf was still lingering inside the dead corpse and if Azai wouldn’t stop the spirit it would flee the body and wreak havoc upon him. The young troll quickly scanned the surroundings, and concluded that this place was not safe enough. He immediately picked up the High Elf and moved towards an higher area, an small hill.

On top of the hill, Azai lay the corpse of Elf on the ground and started a small campfire next to it. The spirit was still in the body.. At least so he hoped. Azai hadn’t eaten, at least not much, since he arrived in the Plaguelands a few days ago..

According to the ancient rituals Azai started cutting in the body. Cutting away various pieces of flesh and bone in the process. The larger pieces he would cook, but he immediately ate the smaller pieces. The flesh tasted sweet.. Sweet.. Something tasty at last..

After hours of butchering, Azai had cannibalised the entire body (except for the bones and the skull). The angry spirit of the Elf had been consumed and would leave him alone..