Raavana lost count of the Empire humans she slew. They came in swarms like angry bees, each as inexperienced as the last. She made red work of them all, bodies easily piling up knee-high.
Today she favored sword and tower shield. Each attack was met with the shield’s wall, a head rattling crash. Next, the shield slid aside to emit the serpent’s tongue of her dark elf long sword, and then came the wrenching twist: Her point turning in the pit of her foe’s innards.
Each fell at her feet, agony and death taking each by hand away from this world.
She was positively alive with hatred, could feel that frozen ecstasy coating her bones with strength beyond mortal ken. This was what it meant to be druchii. To smell the blood in the, to see the carnage working its horrors upon the minds of the enemy. This was druchii…
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