Vorim swore under his breath, staring towards the mouth of the cave. Out there, the enemy waited, the fading light of day illuminating slanted green eyes peering back at him. Up until recently, Vorim had never been the prey for such as these: dark elves. They were olive-skinned, but without the regal poise and stature of the larger ones. These were diminutive and scrawny in comparison. But their reduced size lent them nimbleness and their disposition provided a cold determination. Though male, they were almost pretty, like the little nymphs whose form and grace had so enthralled the hearts of men. And there was murder in their eyes.