ilya-thewarlock

[ilya-thewarlock]

Pain with a purpose.

AbdirakxNamed!Tav

Smut || NSFW || BDSM || Kinda PWP || Mention of blood and wounds || Very kinky || Knife play || Chains and shackles || Everything Abdirak did multiplied || Inappropriate use of the hilt of a dagger || MLM || Anal || Handjob || I mean it's... It's a lot || 3.7k words

(I said it once and I'll say it again, English is not my first language)

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The heels of his boots slightly echoed as he walked into the chamber. Everything was made out of stone, from the walls to the floor, a couple of pillars close to the entrance and two more on the other side, right where a small altar stood. Beyond that an alcove in the wall, just like the one back in the Shattered Sanctum.  The only difference where two chains, one on each side, with shackles at the end.

He swallowed a gulp.

The monk was standing right in front of him, his back turned like the first time they met. As the door behind them closed on itself, the noise of rusty hinges echoed lowdly then his steps, making the priest aware of his presence. He smiled.

<< I knew you’d be back, dear one... >>

Abdirak turned around to face him, still smiling, his eyes fixing on his more casual form, different from the first time they’ve met, in that dirty, dusty goblin camp, a defiled and abandoned Selune’s temple. This chamber, on the other hand, was rather modest, with some benches, a slightly worn burgundy carpet going from the main door to the altar. There were torches all around the walls, a couple standing on each side of the altar, some located on the pillars, but the back of the room was darker. The symbol of Loviatar was displaced in a couple of banners, as well as on a cloth adorning the altar.

Orion didn’t spoke, just smiled at the priest, slightly fidgeting with his fingers, still too embarrassed, too... Shy. He was exploring the hidden parts of the lower city with the rest of the companions, searching for clues about Orin and the temple of Bhaal, when a mislead and a poor sense of direction in a city he barely knew, led the young warlock to the sacred temple of Loviatar. They met again, him and Abdirak, where he asked to come and visit him again.

And that’s what he did.

It was the middle of the night, the rest of the party was sleeping in their camp, when he left to see him again. Something was drawing Orion to Abdirak once more, the same, hidden connection that made him turn his head that day, getting to meet him.

<< Still shy, I see... Dear one there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your presence here is pleasing our dear Goddess Loviatar. She just wants to help, and so am I. >>

Abdirak moved forward, stepping slowly to get closer to him, and Orion caught himself staring, mesmerised, watching his figure with his mouth slightly agape. He was fascinating...

The man’s hand gently reached the young warlock’s face, tilting his chin just to see him better, as the hood of his cape fell from his raven hair.

<< We both know why you’re here... >>

He kept talking in the smoothest voice, dark, vibrating in his ears, like a purring cat, as his thumb slightly caressed his chin, before withdrawing once more.

<< You already know what to do... >>

He said, as he gestured to the alcove in the back with one hand, and to his form with the other, looking at him from head to toe, back to his eyes.

Again, without a word, Orion moved, unlacing the knot of his cape, letting it fall to the ground, exposing him in his modest camp clothes: a simple pair of trousers and a violet shirt, unbuttoned on his chest, revealing some dark chest hair. The more his hand moved to undress him, the more the embarrassment left his body, leaving him with needs, with trepidation.

His shirt was gone, falling right on top of the dark cloak he used to hide his form on his way from the camp to the temple. With a small kick, each of his shoes where discarded, as he started to open the laces of his trousers.

Abdirak’s breath caught in his throat.

Orion let his trousers down his long, toned legs, a slightly swing of hips and knees to help him, before moving them out of his feet with another kick to the side. His underwear following soon after.

He raised his head, naked, his pallid skin adorned with some scars, the dark red tattoo on his neck even more prominent.

<< Beautiful... >>

Abdirak whispered and Orion couldn't contain a proud smile, before walking to where the priest instructed. From the main part of the temple, that area was unlit, darker and not much visible, hidden from the stone altar. He could now see two small wooden tables: one with potions, oils and vials of all kinds, mostly for healing; the other one had a dagger, a mace, a whip and an axe. More detailed, beautiful version of the ritual weapons Abdirak brought with him to meet the goblins.

The man came behind him, a hand gently caressing his left arm, slightly tilting his head closer to his hair and shoulder. Orion slowly closed his eyes, feeling the sensation of his cold, rugged hands on his delicate skin, letting the man do anything he wanted and needed.

<< Don’t worry, dear one. Me and Loviatar will take great care of you... >>

He spoke softly, as he raised his left arm first, reaching the chain and adjusting them to his height, before closing the shackle around his wrist, tight. Orion hissed and winched, a reaction Abdirak appreciated.

Pain.

The priest shifted, moving to his right side, raising his arm and locking in the same way with the other, hearing another hiss from the warlock. He then stepped back, admiring his work, as the young man in front of him stood completely naked, his own shadow projecting on the white skin of his bare back.

<< Oh, dear one... You look simply divine... >>

His hand was on him again, a feathered touch on three new scars he recognised a bit too well; he made them, when he entered the room driven by curiosity, when his eyes flickered with interest, when he expressed his desire to learn...

He could still see clearly that moment, the smell of his sweet, dark blood as his dagger flashed on his pale skin. The way he took each strike, the way he winched but tested him, taunting him, tempting him to do more, using that slightly intimidating tone no one would think could come out from such an angelic face. Oh, what a challenge he was! He laughed as he almost insulted him, saying a child would’ve done better. It was driving him crazy.

<< Would you like the usual, dear one? I promise this time I’ll be better. >>

He wanted him to pick up the dagger so bad, he wanted to see if he could actually break him, hear him cry, now that they were alone. No filthy goblins on sight, no sarcastic comments from his noisy companions, making fun of him for choosing to pursue such experience. How dare they...

<< Yes... >>

He simply said, his first word spoken since the moment he entered his temple, and it was nothing but a whisper, a tremble betraying him.

Abdirak smiled, almost greedy. He was not as bold...

<< A perfect choice, dear one... >>

He talked again like he was purring as he moved to take the dagger. The metal glistened in the dark, the silver blade adorned with darker incisions, as nine ramifications decorated the hilt, resuming the symbol of Loviatar. A dark ruby was sitting right on top, creating a small curve.

Abdirak smiled again, moving to stand right behind his back.

<< Now close your eyes, dear one, and let Loviatar’s love flows through you... >>

In the complete silence around them, Orion could almost hear the vibrations coming from the blade being lifted in the hair, as he closed the eyes with trepidation, waiting for the moment the man would strike. He was expecting a strong, steady slash, but that never came. Instead, the sharp point of the blade was on his skin, tracing intricated design, starting from the base of his neck, down his shoulder blades. Rivets of blood started to form on his pale skin, as a burning sensation followed the cold silver. He stiffened, hissed and gritted his teeth, before a choked moans left his mouth. But Abdirak didn’t stopped, the blade was notw back to his shoulders, before moving to one arm, up to the elbow, as the blood kept staining him and the dagger, a couple of rivets falling on Abdirak’s fingers.

Orion moaned, as the burning sensation grew from his wounded skin to his entire body, pain and pleasure starting to mix together.

<< Do not resist, my dear... Let me hear your pretty voice. Let Loviatar hear your call. >>

He pressed the dagger oh so slightly, causing the skin to open more. Orion raised his head, his eyes closed shut, his whimpers growing louder into mewls and moans. The priest smiled again, proud, satisfied, as he descended with the blade down his spine. The shackles rattled as a small spam went through the half-elf's body, his moans now echoing in the chamber.

Abdirak chuckled, his noise pure music to his ears.

<< Thats, it, dear one... >>

They were alone, no one in sight, no one close to hear them. He could’ve screamed, encouraging him like he did the first time. Yet he stayed terribly closed to his ear, moving occasionally, just to admire his own work of art, and he kept whispering, kept his voice so low, so intimate.

Orion shivered, he was feeling warm, too warm, as the man stood so close he could feel the leather details of his collar touching the back of his neck, his hot breath fanning over his shoulder.

And that’s where it striked, the first slash on his side, caught him totally by surprise. He yelped, screamed, his eyes wide open, his breath now short and quick, his heart beating fast.

Pain.

The man behind him laughed, pure bliss in his face, as he pressed his free hand on his new wound, coating his fingers with some of his warm blood.

<< More, give me more. >>

He almost growled, as the blade was back to draw random designs, this time on his lower back, going down his rear, before coming up again to slice the skin on his left shoulder blade in a flash movement.

Orion contorted, arched his back as he gripped the chains. The scream louder than the others, as the pain was quickly followed by the pleasure. His own body was reacting in ways he didn’t knew it was possible, as he felt a warm sensation at his lower abdomen. He looked down, trying to catch his breath, still moaning, as his cock slightly twitched between his legs.

He was hard.

Abdirak stepped back, giving some time to the warlock, letting him catch his breath, while devouring his naked, bloodied form with his own eyes, tasting the blood on his hand. It was absolutely delicious, sweet, tainted.

<< You’re a sight to behold, dear one. How lucky I get to witness this. To create this. >>

He growled once again, getting closer to the man, who was now a whimpering mess. His nose slightly touched his shoulder, as the free hand gently caressed his skin, smudging blood all over his back. He inhaled his scent, blood and sweat mixing together with a touch of musk, the smell of a dark, eerie forest. He could’ve gone high on that.

And when he opened his eyes, the sight in front of him was so damn tempting.

A chuckled left his mouth, stifled by the man’s shoulder where his lips involuntarily laid on. His eyes darkening in desire.

<< Dear one, you’re doing so good for Loviatar. And me. >>

He whispered, as the dagger moved down his body, reaching his rear once more, his eyes now fixating on the stiffed member of the man still shivering.

<< You want more, dear one? Tell me, and I will provide. >>

Another whimper left Orion’s mouth, his head dripping low, his body turned mush, barely hold by the chains and tight shackles around his wrists.

<< Yes. >> He breathed out. << Give me more >>

The priest was too eager, too excited to waste time. That’s all he needed to hear. He smiled, wicked, dark, and he flipped his dagger into his hand with an expertly move, the hilt now tracing the bottom of his partner.

<< You're amazing, dear one. >>

The next thing Orion felt was the ruby adorning the hilt of the dagger pressed between his buttocks. His own brain started to fight with his body, as panic started to grow in his stomach, but his legs instantly slid on the concrete, spreading more in front of Abdirak, who couldn’t help but smile again. He moved the hilt from left to right, enough to help the warlock, before pressing the cold gem right on his tight hole.

Orion gripped the chains once again, looking at the man with the corner of his eyes, then back to the wall and down to his cock desperately twitching. That sight alone should've embarrassed him, but his brain went shut as the man urged the hilt inside.

Pain.

He felt the first inches stretched him roughly, burning, tearing his delicate skin, bruising it. He yelled, head tilted to the ceiling, Abdirak’s free hand still caressing his back, fingers now dirty with blood.

The man behind also moaned, as he pressed the hilt again.

There was pain, and there was pleasure. Orion’s head started to spin, his eyes watering, as he couldn’t control himself anymore. The hilt wasn’t as big as a normal dagger, but it was rock hard, and the ridges of the decoration around it were scraping his walls. He definitely wasn’t used to this, but he couldn't care less. He was there to feel that. The pain with a purpose.

<< Yes, dear one. Yes! >>

Abdirak started moving the object inside of him, guided by the divine noises coming from Orion’s mouth, in and out, watching the man squirm, scream, shiver. His own cock twitched, forming a tent on his robe.

Orion’s mind was clouded as well as his own sight, screaming in pain and pleasure, his legs wobbling and his mouth open, noises coming out uncontrollably, his cock painfully twitching in desperation. He was a mess.

<< Do you like it, my dear? >>

Oh, how he liked being called his.

He couldn't even breath properly, so he nodded in response. The man behind smiled satisfied, as his free, dirty hand sneaked from behind, gently touching his hips, the opposite of what the other hand was doing. It was now on his abdomen, getting lower, caressing his body hair, before reaching further down, taking his aching cock in his hand.

Orion yelped, his eyes widened, and a different noise came out of his throat as a shock shot through his body.

Abdirak started pumping his hand, coating his length with his own blood, moving faster, oh so swiftly. He never stopped with the hilt, as it was now fully stretching him, only the hand of the man stopping it, as he was holding two fingers on each side of the hilt, while the rest of the hand was around his blade, cutting through the skin. Orion could hear the slap his own bare back was doing against his hand, around the object as he instinctively moved his hips with it

The warlock’s throat burned, as well as the rest of his body, as he screamed uncontrollably, abandoning himself to the attention of the priest, feeling his head spin, his legs wobble. It was too much and he was close, so dangerously close.

<< Ab-.. Ah!... >>

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, so he let his body do anything it wanted, as he came undone, white cum falling on the wall in front of him and on the ground. His own knees started to buck, the sensation of his high rushing through like a storm, while the man behind him didn’t stop, letting him come on his hand, making sure every single drop was out. A breathed laugh left Abdirak’s mouth, looking at the mess, his cock tinted now in red.

Once satisfied, the priest slowed down and then stopped, freeing his cock from his grasp and slowly removing the hilt from his hole, resulting in another, delicious moan.

Abdirak threw the dagger on the table, not even caring to see if it landed correctly, too busy admiring his own work, both catching their breath. Tears where now drying on Orion’s cheeks, his head dropped low, only the shackles keeping him in place, as the priest’s hand gently touched his hips, sweetly and caring holding them. He lowered his forehead, letting it rest on the young man’s shoulder, still catching his breath. They stayed there for a moment; the silence broken by their huffed pants.

Abdirak moved closely, his hips pressed against Orion’s back, his eyes closed.

He could still feel it, behind the only piece of fabric creating a barrier between them; his own cock was now stiff, hard, begging for a release.

Orion was still coming down his high, head still clouded and spinning; the state he was in let him move without even thinking, as he bent slightly back, feeling the shape of his length pressing against his still aching rear.

The priest moaned, tilting his heads up before laughing.

<< Oh, dear one. You really are Loviatar’s favourite... >>

He whispered, gently pressing a skin on his shoulder, letting him move closer, guiding him with his hands sill on his hips.

For the first time since being inside that chamber, Orion felt proud of himself and smiled, turning his head as much as we could, to see him. He was red, his hair messy, some locks attached to his forehead and sides due to the sweat. And Abdirak loved him that way.

<< Do it, please... >>

For a moment, the priest of Loviatar was gone, only a man, terribly attracted to this creature, was looking back at him, in need of release, wanting to give up on the temptation.

And he smiled, hungrily.

He didn’t need to hear it twice, as he moved away the skirt of his robe, his cock popping out from the slit of it.

Of course he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

<< My dear, you’ll be the death of me. >>

The man growled, moving his hips back as he guided his length to his entrance. With a swift, fluid movement, he could feel his cock stretching him. He winched in pain, still sore from the previous activity, but the sensation brought by his cock was divine as he moaned deeply.

The hand on his hips were gently yet rough, as he started to move, slowly raising the speed, being guided by those delicious noise once again, this time only because of him, of his cock. He was so warm around him, clenching oh so sweetly, sending him into an orbit of pleasure as the pace quickened. Orion moaned loudly each time the man pressed the head in the deepest part of him, bottoming him out. Despite everything, the pain was now almost gone, and pure pleasure cursed through his body, moving now with the man, his hips meeting his.

One of Abdirak’s hand reached up, taking a handful of hair into his fingers and pulling roughly, tilting his head back, earning another blissfully moan. He other hand squeezed his cheek, grabbing it until red was tinting the delicate skin, together with all the cuts. Orion could feel the skin of his hips slapping against is bare, sore back, his movement rough and desperate, rhythmic.

Pure bliss, pure pleasure, after the pain he inflicted on the man, and the one of himself, for having resisted for so long. He wanted him, desperately. Like a starving man in front of a feast.

He moved closer to his shoulder, biting and kissing the skin, moaning against it.

<< You’re mine, dear one. >>

Orion moaned in response, letting the man do everything he wanted, claiming him as his. Yes, he was his. His dear one.

Abdirak’s movement became erratic, irregular, feeling his own high coming. His hand left his hair, just to sneak in front and grab his chin, tilting the man’s head closer to his, breathing and moaning into his pointed ear, while the other circled his hips, holding him closer as much as he could, grabbing his cock again, pumping it quickly. Orion almost shouted, his hips still coming to meet his.

<< Dear one, dear one... >>

The priest chanted as he released himself inside the warlock, white hot shot filling him and coating his hot, stretched and bruised walls. Orion came soon after, screaming his name loudly, letting it echo in that chamber.

It was perfect. He was perfect.

Abdirak slowly stopped, resting his head on his shoulder once again as he tried to catch his breath.

He was now holding Orion, one arm around his shoulders and the other around his abdomen, his hot skin against his.

The young man was trembling, his legs threatening to give up in any moment. The hot semen now dripping down his deliciously abused hole.

The priest raised his head, looking at him for a moment, before helping him out with the shackles, opening one, then the other. The warlock almost fell on him, but he was quick to hold him, slowly getting to sit on the ground on his knees, bringing him down, close to his chest. His lips gently pressed a kiss on his forehead.

<< You’re simply amazing, dear one... >>

He whispered holding that dearly mess in his arms, blood and sweat covering his perfect skin, now scarred and marked by his own work.

His.

Orion moved his head to the side, resting peacefully and tired on his chest, as his eyes slowly closed, catching his breath.

He needed to go back, but he wouldn’t mind staying there, just for a little while.

[ilya-thewarlock]

The moon and the dark

This is my first attempt to write after over 15 years and english is not my first language so please be kind. Angst || Mention of blood and wounds || Shar!PaladinxSelune!Paladin || Named OCs || 1.6k words

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Thunders roared in the sky as the rain fell heavily on the ground, washing away the blood on his comrades. He called them friends, he knew all their names, their stories. From the day he joined the army and the City Watch, he grew close to them all, spending days together, facing perilous challenges, happy moments, proud achievements.  

Yet here he was, the last man standing, the betrayal heavy on his shoulders, dark in his heart. 

How could something like this happen to the most devoted soldier, to the paladin who swore his whole life to protect the city he loved, to aid and help every baldurian? Did his goddess turned her back on him, leaving him with nothing but grief and loneliness?  

All those years, praying and vowing to Selune, like his father, and grandfather, and his entire bloodline before him, could this really be the ending he deserved?  

Another thunder echoed, interrupting the constant white noise of the rain. 

Emyr lifted his head to the dark sky. Grey clouds hiding the usual dark blue colour and the stars he used to love and admire, the moon not a comforting sight anymore. 

Something in him broke, left his body and soul empty and wounded, more than the battle scars he gained these years, more than the fresh cuts around his skin his now dead friends, lying on the ground after rallying against him, did to him. 

The Traitor of Baldur’s Gate. 

Those words ringing in his ears, imprinting on his mind like a demon, whispering to him each living moment. 

He couldn’t even cry, scream, yell at the nothingness around and inside him. 

He was empty. 

There was no going back now. His entire city was against him, a possible bounty was on his head. Or even worst, the news of his death brought at dawn in a few hours. 

Yet here he stood. Silent, broken, still. Nothing moved around him, no noise but the occasional thunders and the heavy rain. 

But in the dark, behind him, he was not alone anymore. 

Many thoughts ran rapidly in his mind, pictures on his family, his young beloved sister, his stoic father, even Selune herself. 

But deep in his heart, he knew who was there, emerging from the shadows, the same shadows who slowly grew into the heart, twisting the mind, before claiming him. 

He slowly turned, facing the man who were not that different from those he just defeated. There for a specific purpose. There against him. 

A heavy sight escaped his lips, as the man in front of him stood proudly in his new, dark amour. 

«Hawk... » 

His smirk, usually playful and often accompanied by a sarcastic joke, was now dark, almost obscure, and Emyr knew in that very moment the fight wasn’t over. 

 «Would you look at that. Emyr, the infamous light of Selune, the Paladin of the moon, standing covered in the blood of his friends. » 

He chuckles, deeply, his eyes never left his form. He was walking slowly, like a predator hunting down its prey. Another thunder roared. 

«Go back to the city, Hawk. There’s nothing for you here. » 

Emyr almost pleaded, the grip around his greatsword tightened, but he didn’t dare to budge. 

The man in front of him kept coming closer, steady in his steps, filled with a new, dark purpose, as the smirk never left his face, his facial features almost darker, sharper on the usual, handsome face. 

There was nothing left of the man he once knew. 

« Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, my friend. I am exactly where I’m supposed to be... » 

His voice sounded taunting, obscure. The shadows now part of him. 

For the first time in his life, Emyr was afraid. The knuckles around his weapon turned white, as he shifted uneasily in his spot, not daring to back up, despite an anxious feeling creeping up his spine. 

« I’ve heard words in the barracks about you, how you turned your back against the city, how you betrayed the very same order you swore your life to. » 

« Whatever you’ve heard it’s wrong Hawke and you know it! » 

Those words came out faster than he thought, as knot was forming on his throat. One foot moved back, slightly.  

« Are they? » 

He laughed, a noise that crept underneath Emyr’s skin.  

Hawk stopped in his tracks, the distance between them as much as their greatswords, enough for them to confront, enough for them to strike the first blow. 

« Aren’t you the one who openly talked against Lord Gortash? Aren’t you the one who accused the General of his own corruption? Or was I told wrong? » 

Lord Enver Gortash, a man so distasteful in Emyr’s eyes he was almost disgusted by how blind some people turned their entire loyalty in his favour. The Flaming Fists now puppets of the Tyrant, closing the city to its own people and to the poor civilians afflicted by this new Cult of pure lunatics, leaving them outside the city, dead in the streets, as these giants, The Steel Watchers, mechanical aberrations turned war machines, crushed down the very meaning of Baldur’s Gate as a city with nothing but violence. 

Emyr gritted his teeth, his breath quickened.  

Hawk smiled, creepy, dark, as a hand reached behind his back, grabbing the hilt of his greatsword, slowly removing it from its sheath, the sound of the steel vibrating in the air, followed by another, almost calculated thunder. 

« Your own ambitions turned you blind, Hawk. Why can’t you see reason?! » 

Emyr shouted as his voice roared angrily above the sound of the rain, still falling heavy on them.  

« You, of all people, would’ve agreed with me. We are friends! » 

« We are not! » 

Another, stronger thunder almost immediately followed the sound of those words, the reality striking the selunite like a blow in his heart. Hawk almost growled. 

« Whatever we were, whatever was between us, is gone. Lady Shar is my only truth. » 

Emyr’s eyes widened as those words echoed in the air, as he stepped back for the first time. 

It was a standard procedure, for Sharran initiates, having their memories removed... 

“No...” Emyr said to himself, as the picture of his long, dearest friend, was nothing but a painful memory, but only in his mind. In front of him stood an empty shell, stripped of everything he was before. A paladin, a selunite, a comrade.  

Hawk’s face twisted in a smirk once more, slowly lifting the greatsword to admire the dark steel reflecting the thunders, a hint of dark purple flashing right around it. 

« And to prove my loyalty to her... » 

His eyes now fixing on Emyr’s face, contorted in disbelief, as he pointed the weapon towards him. 

« You will be my sacrifice... » 

Ther selunite didn’t have time to react, despite his heart screaming deep in his chest, as his former friend launched against him, striking the first blow, condemning their relationship into a forgotten void, a distant memory washed away. Emyr was quick to react, greatsword against greatsword, as the clash echoed around them, buzzing in their ears. Hawk stepped back just to charge again with another blow on his left side, a slash, a strike, a cantrip. During the entire fight Emyr tried to stand his ground, in a defensive position, casting protective shields, parries, anything but harm his opponent. He did not want to hurt him, he did not want to believe he was gone. All these years, training together, growing into the men they became, growing closer and closer, they couldn’t have disappeared in the blink of an eye, only for the twisted, sick joke of an evil goddess, taking her rivalry with her sister on two life companions.  

But Emyr was wrong, and tired, the previous fight against the rest of the order tore him down and even if the days he would've been proud to admit this are gone, Hawk was stronger than him. They were the perfect duo, one focusing of defence and heal, in support of the other who conquered the ground, slashing though everything who dared going against them. 

He stumbled back, his breath short and fast, his heartbeat echoing in his ears, muffling the thunders and the clash of steel. One mistake, one Hawk was quick to benefit from, as he raised his weapon from the ground and a quick, flashy strike hit the selunite right across his face. Emyr barely had time to channel a radiant power in his free hand, sending it blindly in front of him, before the blade hit. He screamed, pain shot across his entire body, his skin on the right side of his face burning like thousands hell’s fires. He lost his balance, and let his greatsword fell to the ground, as he covered his face, fingers already dirty with his blood, his vision blurry. 

The last thing he saw was Hawk, yelling and cursing as he was also holding his right side of the face, right where the radiant orb has striked against it, his face twisted in anger as he was looking at him. But before Emyr could even realise what was happening, he charged, greatsword straight, as another, even stronger and piercing pain shot through his left side, right where the armour left space to the leather. Emyr eyes widened for a moment, his hands no on the blade, his own blood slowly sliding on it. 

« Hawk... » 

He whispered, weak, cold, as his vision went dark, and the only thing he could feel was the rain on his body, and the ground underneath.