Disclaimer: I rarely write stuff. So my style is... kinda out there probably.
Also BIG CW: This is needlessly graphic and gory, so proceed at your own risk.
The first time Arel took a life, he was horrified.
Death had been in his life since he was just a little child, but ending a life with his own hands was something entirely different.
He was alone that day, on the way to wherever his feet would take him, and he looked like he had money.
It was all in self defense. The bandit wouldn't have cared whether Arel lived or died, as long as he got his money or other things of worth.
The Wizard tried to talk his way out of the situation like he always would, but the bandit seemed to have gotten impatient and struck first.
A punch to the face sent Arel tumbling back a few steps after he managed to slip out of the bandit's grasp.
He immediately felt the tears well up in his eyes, not because he was scared, but rather because something inside of him snapped in the very moment the fist connected with his face. The drow could feel burning anger wash over him, replacing the nervousness of trying- and failing to talk himself out of a robbery.
Why would this man do that? How does this man DARE to do that?
"Quit whimpering and hand over the money, you crybaby." Arel barely heard the man's voice over the buzzing in his ears and the thumping of his heart.
"Didn't you hear me? Gold. Now."
The Drow caught the glint of a blade, which finally ripped him out of his temporary stupor.
With a swift motion, he threw up his Shield spell to deflect the incoming blow and throw the bandit off balance. Almost instinctively and with the ferocity of a cornered animal, Arel lunged forward with a guttural growl and threw the man to the ground, pounding his fists into his face again and again but it wasn't enough, he was still fighting back.
With a furious snarl, Arel bared his fangs and bit the arm that was trying to push him back.
The bandit screamed as this little, helpless looking Drow tore a chunk of flesh out of his arm.
It was at this moment, that this bandit knew, this was the last mistake he ever made. "NO! WHAT THE FUCK?! GET OFF ME, YOU MONSTER! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU? GET OFF ME!" Arel could hear him scream but he didn't quite register the words as he bit down again, into his shoulder this time, trying to rip another chunk out of the man, but letting go when his teeth knocked against bone. Too hard. Too irritating. Stop flailing.
Arel shoved the bandit's head back into the dirt with an aggravated growl and began clawing at his face. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Fuck you! FUCK YOU!” He snarled as he delivered more punches to the man’s face.
Still irritating. Stop moving.
“NGH-! NO PLEASE! AGH! Oh gods… HELP! SOMEONE!” The bandit begged as it started to truly dawn on him, that he’s not going to get out of this one alive.
But still, the words didn’t register in Arel’s brain even though he could hear the terrified screams of the man beneath him.
He wanted him gone. And with another frustrated, and aggressive snarl he sank his sharp teeth into the man’s throat and ripped and tore until the screams and cries turned into gurgeled wheezes, which then turned into deafening silence as Arel ripped his throat out and spat the gory mess onto the ground next to the now still body.
Silence.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
In.
Out.
In.
Oh gods…
Out.
In.
The rush of adrenaline subsided and his body began trembling.
Out.
In, out. In.
Fuck. This can’t be happening.
Out. In, out, in out, inoutinoutinoutinout.
Arel’s breath picked up, his vision starting to get fuzzy with the realization of what he had done just now.
The screams and cries and pleas of the now bandit beneath him finally registered in his brain.
He looked down at his trembling hands.
Red. The taste of blood in his mouth was so strong, Arel began to feel sick and dizzy.
With shaky legs, the Drow slowly stood up.
“What have I done…”
The dead bandit to his feet looked more like he fell prey to a wild animal. But he did this.
Arel Thelyss has killed a man.
In a most gruesome fashion no less.
Tears started to mix with the blood covering his face and after stumbling a few steps away from the body, the Drow sprinted off into the woods, trying to find the nearest river.
Why did he do that? He was supposed to be there for people. He was supposed to be helping them and save them and show them grace.
He wasn’t supposed to kill them!
After stumbling through the underbrush for a short while, tears never ceasing, he found the river and fell to his knees by the bank.
He dared to look at his reflection in the water, but he didn’t like what he saw. Blood was smeared across his entire face. Even some strands of his usually snow white hair had now turned pink from being stained by blood.
Whether it was blood or tears dripping down his chin, he didn’t know. He didn’t even care to know, if he was being quite honest.
“Fuck… What have I done?” Arel shakily whispered to himself as he plunged his hands into the cold water to begin scrubbing the blood off.
“Sure, he was a bad person. I mean… he tried to rob me!” He began talking to himself to try and calm his nerves a little. “Even attacked me… But- Fuck I didn’t mean to-” He shuddered, as the screams still echoed in his mind.
“No! He was a bad man! But… Ugh! So much blood…”
It was also slowly beginning to dawn on the young Drow that he was going to have to explain the blood on his clothes when he got back to the Inn. Sure, he could wash it off his body but he unfortunately didn’t know Prestidigitation to get it out of his clothing.
Death had been a part of Arel’s life since he was a small child, but ending a life with his own two hands, and teeth, was something entirely different.
This was a very bad day.
4 notes
·
View notes