Duran awoke from his ragged mat he slept on in his tent. Looking outside he looked at the pirates with no emotion other than if they were food. But on the inside, he knew that he despised what he did to them along with bandits. He brandished his sword Life taker as he felt the urge. It was as if a hammer were being struck upon his insides until he complied and let go of being a moral elf. Of being his inner self.<br/><br/>The darkest dark elf you have ever seen would emerge and fight to the death to prolong his life. Of course... it depends on if that makes sense for you to understand it. Sliding the heavily engraved almost great-sword into his sheath he walked out of the tent. A great-sword was a very long and heavy sword that required two hands. This sword was nearly that length as it was just on the barrier of being a long sword and one of the giant blades. Scaring a curious pirate that strayed too close to his tent as the man found out who he was... Duran resisted the urge to kill the human.<br/><br/>Ignoring the bumbling and fumbling fool he walked into the forest in search of something to kill... Anything that would take this hunger out of him. He kept his sword sheathed. The sheath that held its extraordinary long and strangely light weighted blade just brushed the ground. He would decide to strap it onto his back later.<br/><br/>As he walked through the forest he saw some smoke.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">Bandits!</span><br/>He figured and hoped at the same time. If he did not kill soon he would go mad. Then he would have to resort to a mass animal genocide. Which although it was quiet funny for some to see a dark elf going berserk on some squeaky squirrel Duran loved the small furry and feathery creatures. He killed what he would eat and nothing more. Others, others would see an insane dark elf who was looking for a good laugh... they did not know it was only to survive. He walked forward a little further toward the smoke.