Craciss

Drow

Brother of Elorand; Inwe; and Mephrass

Killed by Astorin

Extract from Dafydd vision in Nagrad:

“We meet, Craciss,” ‘Golden’ shouts above the noise of battle and elements, “prepare to meet thy doom.”

In mid chant, Craciss (Grey) does not reply with words, his retort is far more deadly – hailstones the size of boulders shoots forth from his hands at blistering speed smashing into his foe. Slowed but not deterred, ‘Golden’ closes to range and whips his sword at Craciss’ throat. Like a viper he jabs, keeping Craciss from using dweomer and his sword free from entanglement. Joined by others of his kind, Golden presses his attack and ignores the belligerence of the dark elves around him.

“Get thee gone, foul abomination! My Uncle should have gutted you like he did your brother.”

“Ah, Astorin, isn’t it? Oh, how we enjoyed watching your uncle die; we used him for stud then took years to bleed him dry.”

The protagonists circle each other, swords drawn – feinting, dodging, leading, jabbing and exchanging ‘pleasantries’ – trying to find an opening.

Suddenly, it was over. Astorin bends his left leg as if to feint, pirouettes clockwise, extending his sword arm at the same time, and slices the blade’s razor sharp edge into Craciss’ unprotected neck, just above his cuirass. The sword completed its arc as if at had sliced thin air. There was a pause, filled only by Craciss’ gurgles, during which only his mouth moved - still recalling the signals sent from his brain a split second before. Then Craciss’ head rolls slowly from his shoulders and bounces down the parapet, whilst his torso slowly heaves to one side and plunges over the parapet to the sea below.

Dafydd finally recalls seeing Magreb stood helpless on the launch staring up at the combat, hands slowly moving from hips to face.