"Do you have anything to say for yourself, dwarf?" the voice asked. It menaced through the empty space, threatening in tone where the pitch was syrupy, almost melodic.
Logom Handscramp, Royal Bookkeeper and, until this moment, the Lord Regent of The Letters of Dwelling, strained to see the voice within the grand, yet unlit hall. Certainly his eyesight could make out even the faintest figure in darkness. The Royal Chamber, however, was so vast, so long, that it seemed to curve with the planet itself, and Logom could not identify the voice that spoke to him now. The whiskers of his beard trembled, detecting the staleness of the air within the dark, tomblike chamber, and the dryness seemed to catch the breath in his throat. But he had to answer, his king had asked him a question.
"You are too late! They are gone. Away from here and away from YOU! Our country will arise from your foul darkness, and when the time is right, they will come to END YOU!"
A blast of wind struck the dwarf full in the face, and further words drowned in the tempest. The gale increased until the noble administrator was driven to his knees, face downcast to shield his eyes from the dust and pebbles whipping like needles through the churning air. A being was suddenly before him, standing tall and seemingly invulnerable to the chaotic sound and fury about him. The voice came again, smooth as silk, dark as pitch.
"You have committed treason, Royal Bookkeeper," the king spoke, cold and emotionless. A smooth, unblemished hand rose to move golden hair from the being's face. The King spoke again, "We will find them. I have not ruled this long without knowing how to put down some petty rabble."
Horror reflected in Logom's eyes. He had figured out the king's secret, or he thought he had. Drained bodies, barrels of blood from caravans that were bought in bulk, then vanished seemingly overnight. The traditions of the nation, that only the Mouth of the King had the honor of speaking to the Royal. He had dug, too deep it seemed. The Ears and Eyes learned of his meddling. But before they cornered him, he turned to seven of his closest friends and told them the truth. The king was a vampire. Their king was a horror. Secret messages had gone out when the Lord Regent met with the foreign caravans from the other dwarven nations. Coordinates of a new settlement. Dwarves that would need help with supplies and migrants. He told only those he could trust, three of the seven Great Dwarven Nations. The Liaisons would nod grimly, but promise that aid would come. A dwarven promise was always kept, or Armok's wrath would be terrible.
Logom was prepared to deal with the horror.
But this...
This was a nightmare come real.
"A-an elf!" Logom gasped. They were his last words, as the elfking dove upon him, fangs sinking into the rugged, yet vulnerable dwarf flesh, draining the poor creature within seconds.
"Guards!!" the King shrieked, "Clean up this rabble! And send me an Ear." Ducin turned and started to walk back to his throne in the darkness. The seven must be found. At any cost.
Edit: spelling errors