Blood Elf Novels & Stories

We drove carefully while Christmas music played on the radio. “I don’t know what it is, but I just love Christmas even though we don’t celebrate it.” Alex laughed. “I just love all the lights, the Christmas tree, the idea of everyone opening presents together on Christmas morning. I wish werewolves celebrated something similar. I guess we have winter solstice, but it’s not really the same, eh?” He looked so sweet as I peered over at him, a small smile on his face as we drove. He was so handsome, his face so perfect like a master sculptor had carved it. I looked back at the road only to spot a flying deer heading toward the windshield. A flying deer???

I laid my head on his shoulder and looked at him. "Do you turn into that bright ball thing after all your tasks are finished or do you continue to age," I asked curiously and he sighed. "When dark elves' tasks are all finished we turn into a ball of energy and go to bury ourselves to become trees in Alfheim forest. I'm very ancient Skye and have done many tasks and have discovered my new ones over the centuries. Joining with you was one that I have enjoyed greatly," he said sincerely as he brushed back my hair.

We look forward to the day she can run with us. "Soon." The witch agreed with a soft smile. Some of the shadows began to dance like excited pups, their excited yips filling the air as a giant blonde man stepped out of the darkening tree-line followed by a smaller version of himself. Despite the winter months being on them, both males were golden like the husks of wheat and barley. Their white blonde hair matched that of the little girl babbling in her mother's arms. Ulf was much taller than his son and bulkier with muscles crowding his limbs and torso. His chiseled facial features could easily make the gods jealous and his blue eyes were topaz blue and as hard as ice as they surveyed the wor

The ears of the beautiful girl Cecil in front of my eyes have a distinctive shape. If you are familiar with fantasy stories, yes. Those are sharply pointed ears. She is an elf. Apparently, the elves in this world seem a little different from the elves I know, but the basics remain the same. Everyone has a beautiful appearance, sharp ears and long life. I was born here like the usual babies, and am now 19 years old. Compared to human beings, I think I have a greater physical ability and a more convenient body. In Algarde, Humans, Spirits, Demons, and others species live beside us. Each has an independent state, in which some cooperate and some are in hostile relationships.

I comment, “That’s normal for a human, and normal for many other Daemonaria. I look a lot like an Elf, as you suggested. But people will know me as a Trickster even if I keep my mouth shut and don’t bare my fangs simply because Elves don’t have brown eyes.” “Oh, so it’s like an immediate giveaway. That’s why you hide your ears all the time.”

Ciel was mounting an enormous deer as well, but its coat was a light grey. The raven Elf silently examined me from head to toe then signaled one of the guards. "They reek of werewolf scum..." a snobby pout stretched his lips down into a frown. Another snarky Elf to deal with... Great. I frowned as well, insulted. "We don't wish any harm." I replied, which caused the Elf's eyes to grow wide. He seemed... surprised. Weird, has he never met a or even spoke to a werewolf before or what?

With their men's hiding in the White Wolf lair, the access of information was very easy. "One White Wolf's soldiers group consisted of five members. 3 boys, 1 girls and 1 gay." Jason caught Alexander attention as he raised his head and looked at him. His eyes were sparkling with amusement at what he heard. This news was very rare to be heard of among the White Wolf's Clan.

They appeared like a snow bandit that was ready for an onslaught. These elves were burly, with visible scars on their faces, and their bodies were covered in a thick fur cloak, holding different kinds of weapons. “Damn. They’re members of the Ayesiks rebels.” Frode raised his bow. “Well, well, well. Look what we have here, a lump of fresh meat!” said the plump elf standing in the middle, with a large, spiked bat. “Let us cross. We’ll share this meat,” Helga said. “Share?” The plump elf looked at his companions, and everyone laughed.

"Feel like talking now? Sorry about killing your motorcycle. There is a good bus system here in town you can use." The elf glared at him. Rhychard knew the elf couldn't leave. He wasn't a gargoyle, the dogs of the Unseelie Court. He was a dark elf, equal to the Seelie Sidhe. Vargas would have him killed if he returned alive without killing the Warrior. This battle was not over. Not by a long shot.

What is her gift? - We, by virtue of nature, cannot freely communicate with animals, they are afraid of us, - she began to explain, - and werewolves with such a gift not only approach any animals calmly, but also feel their life streams. For example, you can say that your head hurts, show where it hurts, and werewolves with such a gift feel it. They are excellent veterinarians and are highly valued at our fur farms. In our flock, sable, arctic fox, marten, ermine are bred. A very profitable business. I still don't get what's wrong? A wonderful gift, - but I thought to myself that I don’t have a gift at all.