From the Darkness
Part 3
The satyr licked the rapidly congealing blood from his lips as he galloped away from the now-empty hut. His hooves marked a steady beat through the undergrowth as the blood-red demon moved through the forest he had called home for many years. For some time now, he had hunted the forests of Ashenvale, using the trees and foliage to launch unsuspecting attacks on the elves he hated so much. He had seen his share of conflict as well. his body carried countless scars from these encounters. Many had been fierce struggle. However, he was still here today. Morvai Bloodhorn was still here, hunting.
However, if one dared to look closely, one could see that a relatively new series of scars had torn through the demon's hide. Fresh burns littered the fur-covered shoulders and back, and in several places Morvai's fur had been singed off. His face had suffered as well. his left ear had been burned so badly that it was now barely there. His cheek was almost gone, revealing a flash of yellowed fangs. Only a singed, blistered mass existed now, which only served to make the satyr's demonic visage even more intimidating.
Morvai had disappeared from sight sometime during the strange episode that had swept through Ashenvale some time ago. It had started with a dreadlord's corruption of several wells, leading to a surge in Ashenvale's demonic residents. Morvai had played a hand in this, and appeared periodically thereafter, hampering the efforts of those who had tried to fix the problem. However, after some time, he had vanished. Not a trace of the bloodthirsty demon remained.
Morvai had moved to the heart of Ashenvale. As fun as it had been to torment those cretins who had dared to stand up to his ferocity, he had grown weary of those trying to bend him to their own wills. Morvai would bow to no one, and those who tried to make him kneel would soon find themselves missing various, vital body parts. He had washed his claws of the mindless drones, and moved off to his own devices. For a while, he had been content to hunt elves, his preferred prey, but something had happened which even he had not expected.
The land had bucked and roiled, and a roar had been heard, so loud that is seemed that it had echoed around the entire world. Morvai had felt the earth beneath his hooves quake and explode. Heat had blasted him as he leaped from rock to rock. He had seen lava burst from the cracks rapidly appearing in the ground. He had retreated back into the remaining forest, and watched as a massive mountain had risen into the air, spewing fire and molten rock in every direction. Morvai had watched this with a savage snarl. His hunting grounds were now burning.
This was only the beginning. Faced with the loss of his favorite hunting areas, Morvai soon found new creatures to contend with. Burning elementals has issued forth from the changing landscape, and their hostility was unquestioned. many times Morvai had found himself fighting these burning beings who had invaded his forest. He has been pushed further and further away from his food source, leaving his to fight alone against gradually increasing numbers. He had been scorched, burned and wounded countless times.
However, one thing his adversaries had underestimated was the blood-red satyr's sheer ferocity. Morvai had fought with the bloodthirsty glee that had earned him his sinister reputation over his years in Ashenvale. He had fought, he had killed, and he had lived. Now, after many months, he had circumvented the volcano and the elementals, and had found himself back in familiar territory. There were new landmarks and settlements, but this was his forest. He could continue hunting.
Now, as we paused in the undergrowth to enjoy the remnants of his last meal, the satyr glanced east towards the smoking mountain. For once, his manic grin faded, and a thoughtful expression spread across his mangled features. Prey had been scarce, even after his return. He had fed less and less frequently. The animals of the forest, which he could eat of necessity, were dwindling. he did not know why, but that was irrelevant. What mattered to him was that there weren't as many elves for him to butcher. Hunting wasn't as fun when could main prey could not be found.
Suddenly, a deep, sinister chuckle issued from Morvai's fanged mouth. He turned his head north, a grin spreading across his demonic features. He had come a decision. If there was no food to be had here, then he would relocate. he would head north, and find new hunting grounds. He broke into an easy gallop, not pausing to clean the now-clotted blood from his claws and fur. He continued chuckling as he moved, his mind already absorbed in thoughts of carnage and gore.
Wait for me, little elves. Your death is coming to you.
However, if one dared to look closely, one could see that a relatively new series of scars had torn through the demon's hide. Fresh burns littered the fur-covered shoulders and back, and in several places Morvai's fur had been singed off. His face had suffered as well. his left ear had been burned so badly that it was now barely there. His cheek was almost gone, revealing a flash of yellowed fangs. Only a singed, blistered mass existed now, which only served to make the satyr's demonic visage even more intimidating.
Morvai had disappeared from sight sometime during the strange episode that had swept through Ashenvale some time ago. It had started with a dreadlord's corruption of several wells, leading to a surge in Ashenvale's demonic residents. Morvai had played a hand in this, and appeared periodically thereafter, hampering the efforts of those who had tried to fix the problem. However, after some time, he had vanished. Not a trace of the bloodthirsty demon remained.
Morvai had moved to the heart of Ashenvale. As fun as it had been to torment those cretins who had dared to stand up to his ferocity, he had grown weary of those trying to bend him to their own wills. Morvai would bow to no one, and those who tried to make him kneel would soon find themselves missing various, vital body parts. He had washed his claws of the mindless drones, and moved off to his own devices. For a while, he had been content to hunt elves, his preferred prey, but something had happened which even he had not expected.
The land had bucked and roiled, and a roar had been heard, so loud that is seemed that it had echoed around the entire world. Morvai had felt the earth beneath his hooves quake and explode. Heat had blasted him as he leaped from rock to rock. He had seen lava burst from the cracks rapidly appearing in the ground. He had retreated back into the remaining forest, and watched as a massive mountain had risen into the air, spewing fire and molten rock in every direction. Morvai had watched this with a savage snarl. His hunting grounds were now burning.
This was only the beginning. Faced with the loss of his favorite hunting areas, Morvai soon found new creatures to contend with. Burning elementals has issued forth from the changing landscape, and their hostility was unquestioned. many times Morvai had found himself fighting these burning beings who had invaded his forest. He has been pushed further and further away from his food source, leaving his to fight alone against gradually increasing numbers. He had been scorched, burned and wounded countless times.
However, one thing his adversaries had underestimated was the blood-red satyr's sheer ferocity. Morvai had fought with the bloodthirsty glee that had earned him his sinister reputation over his years in Ashenvale. He had fought, he had killed, and he had lived. Now, after many months, he had circumvented the volcano and the elementals, and had found himself back in familiar territory. There were new landmarks and settlements, but this was his forest. He could continue hunting.
Now, as we paused in the undergrowth to enjoy the remnants of his last meal, the satyr glanced east towards the smoking mountain. For once, his manic grin faded, and a thoughtful expression spread across his mangled features. Prey had been scarce, even after his return. He had fed less and less frequently. The animals of the forest, which he could eat of necessity, were dwindling. he did not know why, but that was irrelevant. What mattered to him was that there weren't as many elves for him to butcher. Hunting wasn't as fun when could main prey could not be found.
Suddenly, a deep, sinister chuckle issued from Morvai's fanged mouth. He turned his head north, a grin spreading across his demonic features. He had come a decision. If there was no food to be had here, then he would relocate. he would head north, and find new hunting grounds. He broke into an easy gallop, not pausing to clean the now-clotted blood from his claws and fur. He continued chuckling as he moved, his mind already absorbed in thoughts of carnage and gore.
Wait for me, little elves. Your death is coming to you.