This is the prolouge to my DND characters backstory that I was talking about. I might post more as I finish them. Let me know what you all think.
All that she could remember of that cold night was a solitary figure. His armor was coated in the deepest night, a large black plume of unknown origin resting on the top of his helmet. In his hands was a horrible black blade, something about the length of a longsword, but was in no way made of any metal on this earth. The blade seemed as though it oozed the dark itself, a black smoke of unknown origin breathed out from the sword, and she could see its cold gleam outlining the blade. The man was staring down at an older man dressed in kingsley robes. He had for certain come to know many years than the average man, but that was because he was not human. His moon-pale skin and pointed ears gave away his identity as a Moon Elf, and a wealthy one at that. She knew this man well, for it was her father, the king of the kingdom that they had come so far in building. He was on his knees, his arm bleeding profusely from an earlier wound, but he did not care about that now. All he cared about was the beautiful moon elf woman that lay at his feet, a monstrous gash revealing her stomach to all. The now cold organs inside were stained an evil black, a curse given to her from being run through by that unholy sword of night. Tears ran down her face as she saw her mother lie there dead next to her soon to die father. She didn’t know what in the world caused her to think something like that, but something told her deep down that her father would not survive to see the morning. She looked at the black knight with nothing but anger in her eyes, but deep down she wanted to run. It was cowardly of her, yes, but she was still very very young. Every nerve in her body was telling her to run away, to put as much distance as possible between her and that horrible abomination of the night. Still, something was causing her feet to stay rooted to the spot, causing her to watch as her parents were slaughtered by this evil monstrosity.
The Black Knight raised his dark blade above her fathers head, and she could hear her father cursing at the creature in Elvish, calling every god the elves prayed to, so that they might smite this creature where it stood, so that they might send this abomination back to the Nine Hells, were its kin Asmodeus, Belial and Glyssa called home. The creature stood there with its sword raised high, as unfeeling as the cold dark steel in his hands, not feeling, not caring about the man’s curses, or the dead woman who lied in his arms, or the flames that surrounded the entire scene from this horrendous play. Quick as death the figure dropped his sword down and buried it in the skull of the king. She was watched as the life left her fathers eyes, the body slide off the sword with a sickening sound, and the body fall with a dead thud. Tears filled her eyes as she saw death come for those who gave her life, and her heart ached with the loss. Now the child laid there, the heat from the flames reaching out towards her, the smoke threatening to choke the air out of her lungs. But more than anything it was the grief and despair that truly gnawed at her soul, the loss of her parents piercing and painful like the cold blade. Suddenly, the creature turned. Perhaps it was attracted to the scent of despair emanating from the girl, or perhaps it had always known she was there. Perhaps it could even hear the soft sound of her tears dropping from her face over the tremendous roar of the flames. Suddenly, a new feeling gripped her. Now it was fear that replaced the grief and kept her rooted to her spot. A ball rose to her throat, she gasped for air, and the familiar feeling ran through her body. Every fiber of her being was telling her to run from this terror, to get away before it came any closer. She fled back, moving backward and backward, backward and backward away from the beast, as it slowly stepped toward her, each step ominous and deliberate. Finally she retreated straight into a wall, and could not go anywhere else. Tears streamed down her face, her lungs hurt from lack of breathing, and her nerves were completely shot. The beast looked at her with those same horrible eyes. It raised the sword again. Her life flashed before her eyes, such a short life that it was. Despair reigned in her head; her time had come, and nothing would stop it.
The sword came down.
Lanrinil awoke with a start, grabbing her longsword before finally realizing where she was. Another horrible dream of that night when her life was changed forever. She hadn’t had the dream in quite a while, and she dreaded what it might mean. She looked around her; she was in a forest clearing, her companions sleeping soundly beside her. A surly dwarf, her oldest friend slept soundly, snoring deeply and loudly. She looked at him fondly; out of all her friends, he was the one she had known the longest, and the one she most understood. Next to him were two elves who were sleeping in the same bedroll, a elf couple who had been married for longer than most men lived. On the far end of the clearing slept a young dwarf and the only human there, two of the newest members of the company. These two were untested and were relative newcomers. It fell to the four to make sure these two became competent in short time. These were a group of people that had all come together because they had all lost something dear to them. Tragedy makes to bring many people closer together. Lanrinil thought to herself. Even if my family is gone, I still have them. She clutched a necklace that hung on her neck. It was of a gold dragon, tall and majestic. The group had made a pack one day that they would all slay an elder wyrm gold dragon together, just to see how far they had progressed as adventurers. Lanrinil clutched the item fondly. May we live that long, she thought to herself. Then she laid herself back to slumber. Tomorrow would be a long day.