With each passing over the blod-smeared wetstone the edge got keener, the blade reflecting the wicked smile of its owner, Nagharioth the Night Stalker.
They sat silently around the camp fire, thirty dark clad and hooded elves. Shades.
They were the elite scouts of the mysterious and rightfully feared Dark Elves of Naggaroth - and this night they were preparing for yet another dawn raid on their weaker kin, the High Elves of Ulthuan.
When the first rays of the morning sun would touch the keep wall the light would temporarily blind the defenders - and the dark kin would attack.
Hard.
Crossbow bolts would pierce Mithril armour allowing the Shades to scale the battlements, sowing confusion and panic among the guards not yet disposed of.
Then Nagharioth will lead his force to the gatehouse and, with a little help from blackpowder and Dragon's Breath, breach the gate defences, allowing his Shades to open the main gate.
From there on the main Dark Elf force would sally forth and take the garrison with brute force, ensuring another glorious victory.
Wagon loads with loot and hundreds of slaves and sacrifices would be theirs for the taking.
- "Is it really wise? Having the camp fire I mean?"
The silence was broken by the nervous voice of one of the newest members in their small vanguard force and several of the more experienced scouts cast worried looks at their leader.
To question the decision of Nagharioth the Night Stalker was known to result in certain death - and seldom a quick and easy one.
The knife kept moving over the wetstone, hissing like a snake.
Nagharioth started to smile broadly, his white teeth glimmering in the flickering light, but the smile never reached his cold eyes who stayed focused on the ever sharper edge.
- "You have much to learn about warfare, young one.
We are deep into enemy territory and have drawn blood on several occations. Rest assured that our presence is already known.
What is not seen is always more frightening - thus by using a camp fire we will seem to present a lesser threat to the High Elves, softening their readiness for the upcoming assault.
In addition this fiery beacon in the night will draw the attention of scouts and animals helping our enemies, helping our main army to move in undetected from a different direction."
With that short lesson in strategy told, their leader silenced, all his focus once again fixed on honing his blade.
The elf who had spoke up bowed his head deep in a gesture of submission and gratitude, silently cursing his loose tongue - that he too had realised nearly costing him his life.
However, while bowing he totally missed the exchange of quick hand signs between the two Scouts acting as second in command, deciding his fate.
He would indeed be punished for speaking up - but not until the raid was over.
The Dark Elves needed every one of the Scouts in the upcoming battle...
Dawn Raid
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