After a fatiguing long run last night, Cenedra rejoined the others. She passed out as soon as she reached them. In the following night, while Cenedra was still asleep, Balur stood guard. After he'd heard some disturbing noises, he woke the rest.
I was woken deep into the next night, only to find trouble. But that
didn't discomfort me, after all, every Elf needs to prove his worth once in
a while.
Balur had spotted a man-sized silhouette in the distance, which was heading
towards us. Since he, as a mul, lacked Elven vision, he didn't pursue.
Kalidor, however, did. I sighed deeply. If only he would have half a brain...
Syrx asked me why I had gone off like that. I managed to evade his questions, by pretending not to be feeling too well. After a short while Kalidor returned. He had lost track of the shadow. I barely kept myself from laughing. What else could he have expected! The dull-witted half-giant didn't notice it, however.
As you might notice, my attitude towards the half-giant is, and has been, shifting. First I thought him worthy of an Elven test. He blew that so big, that I was extremely angry with him. He didn't fail or succeed, he lacked the brainpower to do either. And that kept me angry at him for a while, since it ment the test had reveiled nothing as to his intentions and thrustworthiness. But lately I had begun to enjoy his brainlessness.
The idiotic Kalidor took up the next shift in guard-duty. I went back to sleep. I was awakened a little later by Syrx, who had taken the next guard duty. He'd heard something and thought the shadowy figure had returned. He was right.
Balur climbed on the car and jumped on our stalker. While they wrestled,
the rest soon saw the opponent was another female templar. Enraged by this
constant pestering, I took my knife and headed towards the two wrestling
people. I angrily grabbed the woman's hair and intended to cut her throat.
The jukkete mamuk ud'raanud (Co.: Lit.: city-dwelling mother, outcast
of her tribe, of a half-elf. Sem.: bitch) had pulled a knife and thrust
it towards me. By the stupidest luck, she hit me - good.
Suddenly, time itself slowed to a crawling stop. I felt the blood slowly leaving my body. I felt myself losing my consciousness. Before my body touched the sands of the desert, my spirit had fled from me and the world had turned black. I was dead.
But before my spirit had gone off towards it's destiny, I felt a terrible grief. A grief greater than I had expected. Balur had walked of grieving my dead. Struggling to remain just another couple of seconds, I tried to pass him a message of comfort. I told him to take good care of one of my dresses. It has all my magical spells inscribed upon it, but I didn't tell him this. I tried to comfort him further, but felt a pull at my spirit and form then on I can't remember anything.