Editing Chronicles of Sir Bruce (section)

==Side Story: The Victim==
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Green eyes stared out from under a dark hood, a bright pink cut that was only just beginning to scar standing in contrast to pale skin. A gloved hand with delicate fingers gently rose to stroke the scar, a physical memory of cruelty and oppression. A soft sigh left even softer lips as those piercing green eyes regarded the stone structure around them, observing the stone sanctuary with an expert precision. A long, slim nose inhaled, noting the riot of new pheromones that had not existed the previous day.<br>
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The lips curled in distaste, and the gloved hand fell down towards a leather-bound quiver filled with black-feathered arrows, drawing one out softly and nocking it against the string of a fine, ornately carved recurve bow. Stolen arrows, and a stolen bow. Recompense from the cruel suitor whom had cut that scar into place. The nose twitched again as it identified the scent it was sampling. Human. Male. Filthy and sweaty and unclean, intruding upon what was now a home.<br>
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Bare feet padded silently against the stone floor as the cloaked form melted from shadow to shadow, years of hunting experience serving well as the scent grew stronger and stronger, the warm spoor of footsteps visible to eyes more sensitive than any human could hope to possess. Pointed ears twitched as they picked up footsteps. Quiet, for a human, but easily loud enough to betray position. There was an odd clanking sound, like armour, only quieter. Fingers tightened around the bowstring, as the figure stepped through a doorway and gasped aloud at what it saw.<br>
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Black cloth hid under gleaming, reflective white armour, smooth and polished to a degree unlike anything those emerald green eyes had ever seen before. It had a hump on its back, and geometric black stripes along its armoured carapace. It held a small object in its hand that looked like a crossbow without a string. Its shape was vaguely human, but the armour seemed…wrong, somehow. Alien. It didn’t belong, and before the shadow knew what was happening, it had loosed an arrow straight for the back of the armoured thing’s head.<br>
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The arrow whistled harmlessly over it as it ducked, then fearlessly turned and pointed its own weapon squarely between those green eyes, rising to a somewhat respectable height and glaring coldly through a faceless mask. It was lithe, but not quite as thin as an Elf. Its mouth made no movement as it spoke, a distorted roar of angry, aggressive words, thick with indignation and authority. Exactly like how the males had spoken, back in the village. Breath caught as the shadow took an unsteady step back, surprised by the sudden, fearless wrath.<br>
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It advanced onwards, speaking again in its distorted way, clearly making an order. Surrender, it called out in its weird language, the intent unmistakable. Submit. Do not resist, or it will not end well for you. Teeth gritted in defiance as a gloved hand reached for another arrow, the action sending the faceless monster thundering forwards. Fumbling, the shadow nocked the arrow and fired it into the creature, the arrow impacting solidly with its shoulder, in a gap in the armour.<br>
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It didn’t even slow down. A gloved fist lashed out, smashing against the pale face and opening up those soft lips, sending a spurt of blood onto the previously pristine armour and glove. The hood fell back, and she gasped from pain as she looked indignantly at him, hissing in pain. Too late, she realized that its shoulder didn’t have the arrow in it anymore, and its free hand was racing towards her armpit. Suddenly, pain lanced up her side, as the arrow bit home. She gasped, and felt her strength leave her as her blood spurted free from her body. Then, her lung popped.<br>
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She gazed up at the faceless mask of her killer as she felt the ground rush up to meet her back. The stars danced before her eyes, as she looked up at the unmoving statue that had a moment ago been an explosion of rage. Now, it felt cold…numb. Everything felt cold. She tried to raise a hand, tried to speak, but her strength failed her as the colour began to bleed out from her world. Damn it…she’d fought so hard for her freedom. It didn’t matter now. As her eyes closed, she gave in to death’s cold embrace.
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It was kinder to her than life ever had been.<br>
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