100 Words a Day 1075

The bandits surrounded Morg. After a moment, their leader came forward. Unlike the rest of the gang, who appeared to be runaways from the surrounding farming communities, he was a large man who moved like he had fought for his life before.

“I’ll take your purse then, traveler. Instead of or in addition to taking your life. It’s up to you.”

“I have no money to give you,” Morg said quietly, eyes on the ground.

Taking his response as a sign of weakness, the man strode forward and yanked Morg’s cloak from his shoulders, revealing the his bulbous, purple arm.

100 Words a Day 1074

Morg winced as the roving blade’s sword severed his hand at the wrist. He grunted in concentration and the flow of blood slowed, stopping completely after several moments.

There was a thud as the tip of the sword hit the stone floor. Its wielder’s mouth agog. The people watching them were equally confused. The screaming began after Morg’s purple, bulbous, clawed hand emerged from his cloak to retrieve his severed one from the ground.

The appearance of the arm broke the elf from his trance of confusion. He raised his sword again. “Are you a demon?” he demanded, voice shaking.

100 Words a Day 1073

A great clap rent the air and someone behind Morg screamed. He slowed enough to glance over his shoulder and saw one of his pursuers writhing on the ground. The rest continued to follow him, but with some of their fury replaced with confusion. A second clap and another villager fell.

They gave up the chase and scattered into the forest. Morg continued running until he realized there were no more sounds of pursuit. He stopped and looked back the way he had come, confused by the lack of villagers and curious about the loud noises that struck them down.