Cyril, for just a moment, was surprised at how calm he kept when the Dark Elves descended upon the encampment.
He was also very thankful that he hadn't drawn the short straw that night and ended up on first watch as he now looked down on the three small darts sticking out of his comrades face and throat.
The other eight guardsman he traveled with, fought the ebony skinned forms around the light of the campfire and as he rounded the wagon he watched them all disappear under a globe of what he assumed to be magical darkness. Panicked shrieks could be heard from within as he edged closer, as his eyes adjusting to the clear pale moonlight.
Faint foot falls behind him pricked his ears up and he instinctively spun, hands in motion as they caught a blade destined for his back and deflected it harmlessly sideways. Turning his wrist quickly to bring his hand over his assailants hand he kept control of the arm, crossing it over the dark elf's body. The lithe onyx form spun with the momentum his other hand whipping down with an over head strike from a wicked dagger.
Cyril moved with in cohesion with the Dark Elf, keeping in his blind spot and catching the dagger hand at the wrist before bringing down his weight just behind the elbow of the extended arm, Cyril fell on top of his attacker as he felt a satisfying 'pop' as the cartilage from Dark Elf's elbow tore, shrieking as the blade fell away from his now useless arm.
Cyril silenced him quickly, snapping a fast punch to the back of his neck, a single knuckle extended.
He scooped up the dagger, nimbly turning it over in his hand so that the blade ran concealed down his forearm before moving to aid his compatriots.
In the time it had taken him to dispatch one, the Dark Elves had dispatched the remaining seven.
Six slinking forms now stalked in towards him. There was no victory to be had here in this moment.
"If the enemy are stupid enough to want to capture you, don't fight it."
He heard his instructors voice in his head as he let the blade slip from his hand and fall to the ground, his foot kicking it aside as he locked his fingers behind his head, arms raised and heart racing.
There were three clicks in quick succession from the hand crossbows leveled at him and felt the sting of the darts pierce his leather tunic and bite his flesh.
The pain only lasted a moment as he felt the numbing effects of the poison spread through his body.
He knelt, just as his legs began to give way.
He then decided that if he woke up from this, he was going to find a way to escape. He would bring news of this capture to the surface and warn his superior officers.
This would be his ultimate test to prove his worth to the Lords Alliance.
