Utterly Mad

Ferret had only just started to squeeze through the doors she had forced open only that morning what something grabbed her by the wrist of her right arm and wrenched her from the doorway. Her confusion gave way to terror as she recognized the tall porclain clad figure and it's needle filled hole of a face lifting her high into the air. "Ferret? what's-" Lydia had emerged and saw what was happening. What was about to happen. "It's ours!" came the many voices from that hole, "Such a quarry never gave us such trouble, but it's ours now!" Ferret felt the last whisps of demon essence being sucked away by this monster, and the strange sickening feeling of the flesh in her wrist softening. She reached for her sword with her left hand, but the draw was clumsy. Regardless the elf saw the move and slapped her hard, releasing his iron grip and sending her tumbling to the ground and her sword sailing into some dark pool nearby. Her bag split and the contents spilled out. Lydia screamed something, but Ferret didn't hear it. All her attention was focused on the elf stooping to pick something out of her collection of artifacts. It had taken a long curved dagger which seemed to fit it's hand wonderfully. She saw it examine the knife with what must have been recognition. Lydia screamed again and Ferret realized she was calling for help. A hopeless call to any that could hear. The elf stooped again and this time wrapped it's long, wicked fingers around her throat and raised her to eye level. Her breath burned, more over, it choked her. The monster holding her didn't need to strangle her, it just needed to hold her. The foul vapor of decay filled her lungs and stopped her breath. The elf held the knife before her eyes. She couldn't hear Lydia anymore, she couldn't hear anything anymore. The knife moved forward in a practiced movement carried out by hands whose alacrity had not been diminished by time and madness. Fortunately for Ferret, she saw and felt none of it. Fortunately for Ferret, she had passed out.