A Dark Elf raiding party!

Lithe, pale-skinned creatures, Dark Elves otherwise known as Druchii, are exotically alluring, regardless of gender. Their titillating high cheekbones, angular faces and silky raven black hair paired with sensual curves make them highly desirable. However, their warlike and vicious nature usually meant that other sentients usually end as a ritual sacrifice to their god, Kaela Mensha Khaine, the Bloody-Handed God and Thousand Faced Lord of ****. Dark Elves have one major source of income: **** labor. Dark Elves raid all other lands, particularly Ulthuan, home of their enemies the High Elves. They take food and treasure, but the main purpose of their raids is to obtain slaves. Every now and then, there have been reports of incursions into the Empire's lands. But to find a Dark Elf raiding party so deep in Empire territory and on such a well-traveled road?

You push aside your train of thoughts as you reform your battlestance to meet your attackers just in time as the two warriors in black enameled scale mail bear down on you with their thin long blades. Behind the tall, thin figures rushing at you, silhouetted in the glow of a purple light that hovered over her palm - an intoxicating beauty with black hair to her waist. She wore a scanty, long flowing black robe that was nothing more than two thin slashes of fine silk that could scarcely veil her ample pert breasts. The steadily blowing winds offered teasing glimpses of her long toned legs that seductively peeked though the high slits of the robe. But more pressingly, her slender hands, so smooth that one would've thought it wrought of porcelain, were raised towards you and weird words poured from her luscious lips in a sinuous melody.

"That can't be good," you thought to yourself, "Foul sorceress needs to be dealt with first." Your chanting of the Holy Deus Sigmar verses grew in passion and fury as you skillfully wielded your warhammer, swinging in great powerful arcs as you sought to smash and smite these foes of Sigmar to get to the spellcasting wench in time whilst parrying and warding off the sinister blades that seek to penetrate your defenses. But skilled as you are, you are at a numerical disadvantage and it takes all your experience and ability to defend yourself against the two agile Druchii warriors that harried you with a flurry of slashes and jabs, both complementing each as they pressed on relentless against you. Suddenly, both of them leap away from you and your crushing swing only met air.

Before you could think or react, eldritch lightning struck you, bringing you to your knees as you collapse on all fours even as unimaginable pain seared through your whole body, your entire body twitching and convulsing. A red haze descended upon your vision as you felt blood trickle from your eyes and nose. Shakily lifting up your head, you see through your bloody sight the sorceress had already turned her back to you and had started walking away, her hips swaying seductively even as the outline of her perky ass showed through her robe, thinking you fully defeated as the two warriors slowly closed in on you, their drawn blades glinting hungrily in the morning sun.

With the sorceress' attention elsewhere and that the warriors had dropped their guard, now would be a good opportunity as any to strike at these foul enemies of Sigmar. Yet your body still spasms from the aftermath of that magickal attack and you're pretty sure that strike was meant to incapacitate rather than kill. It would seem that they mean to capture you as a **** instead of outright killing you. A mistake you would make sure they would never live to regret. You let your head drop back down as you heaved and spat mouthful of blood. Would you rather fight to the end like a true son of Sigmar? Or would you allow a brief but tactical surrender to regain your strength and seek another opportunity at vengeance?