Xykon/Vaarsuvius

Xykon didn't show it - he wasn't one to let his mannerisms reflect his thoughts, unless of course he wanted them too - but this elf fascinated him. There was something about the sheer arrogance and foolishness of the wizard that drew him to the elf. He wanted to hurt the elf, yes, but his finger bones twitched at the thought of touching that soft skin as he ripped it apart, seeing up close those delicate feature twist with pain.

He effortlessly hurled the crumbling section of wall from the battered elf who now lay powerless and dazed and grabbed it by the front of its cloak, pulling its prone form from the floor like a rag doll. He wrapped bony fingers around its slender neck. He could feel its rapid pulse. He squeezed.

The elf, coming back to its senses raised an arm, tried vainly to push him away. The sensation of its slender fingers against his bones was electrifying. He didn't let go, but relished in the feel of the elf's windpipe as it splintered, delighted in the soft muffled gasp of pain. Finally he felt the pulse beneath his fingers slow, the body go limp, the fragile life diminish.

Xykon let the elf's body fall back to the ground, and then glanced over to the caged paladin, who was rattling one of the bars of his cage futilely.

He looked back at the elf.

In death its features looked no less troubled; blood caked it's face and matted it's hair, it's slender upturned nose was bent, shattered; one eye was swollen shut. But it was still mesmerizing. And it would be a shame to let the body go to waste: he leant down, delicately placing a hand on each side of that slender face. "Create Greater Undead."

The undead elf opened softly glowing eyes, it's skin took on a greenish tint. To Xykon, in undeath it was only more beautiful. Xykon looked over to the paladin, who had sunk back onto the floor of the cage in despair.

"Let’s go somewhere more… private." the lich mused, looking back on the undead elf as it rose to its feet.

"Yes, master."

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