Best of Enemies

 The Dark Elves and the Vampire Counts have developed some issues. 

Dark Elves

"It's contained?".  "It is my lord".  "what can we DO to it?".  "My lord we can give it hope". Sangrin regarded the torturer, this was new.  He wasn't known for giving hope and now he was intrigued.  "Hope?".  The torturer regarded his lord, well at least it looked that way, his one glass eye fixed him, the scars on the one side of his face pink and angry in the blazing candle light.  "Yes my lord, we returned it's spirit to a human host and it's enjoying being flesh once more", Sangrin wondered who the lucky host was.

The undead spy had been found in the upper towers and rather than have the sorcerers destroy it they had contained it then on the instruction of the torturers placed it in a screaming host.  The host had died instantly from shock but the wraith had lived again in the new body.  So far he had been treated well and was confused and for the first time in a very long time it looked, frightened.   At first it had eaten, washed, ran, screamed and tried to experience everything possible as quickly as possible as it was whole once more.  it was now becoming comfortable with it's surroundings, still a little confused but certainly for the first time in many decades it's view of things had changed.

"Has the room been prepared?", "yes my lord".  The armourers had worked double time to complete a room clad in cold iron.  When the torturers had finished with it it's spirit would never leave that room.

Never trust the undead his father had told him. very good advice.

Vampire Counts

The moon shone bright and cold on the shore, and the green light of the glowing crater to the South just visible on the horizon. The waves lapped lazily onto the sands, the only other sound the mournful rasp of the wind on the dunes.

Out from shore, a dog-faced helm broke the surface of the water as a black armoured warrior raised himself out of the surf, sea water pouring from his visor. He struggled a little making his way through the soft sand, but soon stood drenched on the beach. His sodden cloak clung to his form making him look like some massive, sodden bat.

The vampire lifted his helm revealing the face of a drowned man, soft and pallid. Pieter had not fed in near a month as he trudged along the seabed after his fleet had been destroyed below the vile cliffs. He was weak, but at least he had had company.

As he looked about he tapped his thigh with one gauntlet as one might call a hound. In response, a second figure rose from the dark sea, though this one's movement was stiff and ungainly. Eventually the figure stood beside it's master. The elf had changed much since it's descent into the depths in Pieter's grip a month before. The fish and crabs had taken it's face, leaving two glowing orbs where it's eyes had been. Sharp, angled armour covered the rest of it's form, a shattered sword still held in it's grip.

Pieter smiled a humourless smile at his servant. "Now, my lord, we shall rejoin our brethren, yes?"

Inside his mind, he heard his new wight's reply. "One day...one day I will kill you."

Pieter could not hold back his mirth. "No doubt, no doubt. But until then, you shall serve, and serve well. But be of good cheer, I believe Morbius has a collection of your kind in his service, no doubt you will draw comfort from such scintillating company. Now, on, my faithful hound!"

The vampire's laughter rang out along the bleak sands.