Page 4 of Plaything of the Dark Elf

Etheron

Ithrow back the liquor in my glass and slam the empty vessel down onto the bar in front of me.

Around me, the speakeasy buzzes will dull noise that irritates me. As my shift ended this afternoon, I’d stumbled in here with a singular thought stonewalled inside of my mind: drink until my thoughts were no more but a fleeting existence.

A dark hand stretches out, grasping the side of my tumbler before amber liquid is poured up to the rim. It’s a stupid decision to get so drunk in the middle of the week, but I could care less at this point with my mind still functioning.

The glass is passed back to me with a kind of care that is unfounded in these parts of Vhoig. I suppose that it has something to do with the badge pinned to my lapel, stating my status in the army proudly.

I’m aware of my reputation and the thin line that people walk across in order to placate my tumultuous mood swings. On most days I ignore the side-glances and tight-lipped monikers that my underlings give each other while I bark orders at them.

On others, when I’m feeling not so generous, I enjoy cracking heads against stone.

Usually, my underlings know better than to be so obvious with their distrust in me. However sometimes, they must be reminded of who exactly is in charge.

Sooner or later this darkness inside of me will consume me and bleed me dry of the very essence of my being, to the point where I know I will not come back from it. It will only be a matter of time before the shaky semblance of my control will slip for good.

I grab my tumbler and swirl the contents of it around a few times before throwing it back and letting the burning liquid coat my throat. I slam the glass back down and push back from the bar, throwing a few coins down onto the surface before rising to my full height.

Other than drinking, there are other ways that I use in order to manage my twisted soul: through violence and lust.

I loved killing. I craved it. It was one of the many reasons that I joined the army when I was younger and rose through the ranks so quickly. But sometimes it made my darkness worse, dragging me down into a deeper hole than I was in beforehand.

That’s where fucking came into play.

I stride out of the speakeasy and head into the streets. There is less noise out here, though people still mill about aimlessly. The sounds of them though aren't so congested into one space, making it far less overwhelming than inside of the speakeasy.

I push through those that stand in my way and head down towards the next district over, my pace brisk.

The buzzing in my head is just as loud as when I left my post this afternoon. Which means that it’s time to go to the human slave house and purchase a new bed companion.

I don’t dare try and solicit a dark elf female from a local tavern or the speakeasy. My violence tends to be all encompassing and I would hate to strike down my partner in a fit of madness. I can’t, in good conscious, put another dark elf through that torture. It wouldn’t be fair.

Humans, however, are expendable, and I couldn’t give two shits if I killed them after fucking them.

It only takes me a few minutes before the main entrance to the slave house is visible from the street. The main entrance to the building has been kept as well as can be, considering the state of the district it’s in.

A guard stands outside with a hard look on his face. A flash of terror passes over his features when he sees me approaching, and he has the sense to bow his head and allow me through without hassling me for a cover fee.

A smart move on his part. I’m likely to rip through his jugular in any other case while my mind is still buzzing like this.

As I step into the main lobby, I’m greeted by two dark elves that I vaguely recognize.

“General!” one of them pipes up. “So glad to see you back. Shall we take you back to the merchandise to view?”

I don’t bother with the exchange of pleasantries and instead simply nod. The taller dark elf moves around the front counter and leads me through a set of double doors. I can already hear the distinct sounds of people fucking filtering through the thin walls.

A hot pit forms in my stomach. I’m ready to sink my teeth into a human and tear them apart while I fuck them into oblivion.

“Here we are.”

I scan my eyes at the cages in front of me, all together in a uniformed row. There are a few human males and females sitting in each cage, their bodies crumpled together as they foolishly hide in the corners away from us.

Their heads are bowed, whether out of fear or respect, I don’t know. Nor do I care.

I sigh through my nose, seeing none of them peaking my interest.

Perhaps I’m in the mood for a fight, instead…

---