This story wasn't actually written by me; it was written by the brother of a friend of mine, who emailed it to me a while ago. I didn't notice until I cleaned out my Inbox. It's very short, but it has a sharp flavour to it. Take a look:
The dagger bit deeply into his flesh and sent tendrils of searing pain through his body as the enchanted blade poured its venom into the young elf. Armin's hand convulsed and his body shot out, his back arching on an extreme angle. The sound of his sword rang out as it clattered on the cobblestones below, and the there was silence. The elf's body lay rigid on the ground, blood trickling from his nose, ears and eyes. The dark cloaked figure knelt down by the corpse and wiped the moist blade upon the elf's forehead. A black gloved hand slowly appeared from within the cloak and then darted into the elf's leather jerkin until it had found what it sort. A small intricately designed silver ring, with a black oval shaped stone sat encased in three superbly crafted silver talons, hung from a plain leather band swayed lightly in the monster's grasp. With the trinket secured, the figure turned and began to walk away from the grizzled scene, but not before tracing a small symbol in the air with the tip of its gloved talon.
Shortly after, a thin line of smoke began to rise from somewhere inside the elf's jerkin until the line was as think as a man's arm. At that moment the rigid corpse burst into flames engulfing the now empty alley way in a bright orange glow and the strong scent of sulphur and crackling flesh.
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