The Chronicles of Avorai
Thies In den Hoffen
Half-Elf Ranger searching for his past while forging his future...
After the great “Flash and Thunderclap,” as it became known, a silence fell over the wood and a gentle mist hung in the air. A mist that still resides deep in the wood today. Things that were once known, now are eclipsed by this pother. Things seen now hidden. Musings and poems once sung; unsung. Out of this billowing murk, I arose. Alone.
Whoever or whatever I was before the event that forever altered the wood, I know not. Clothed in tan linen and green vestments, a bow and quiver lay by my side. A dagger, a small sword, bracers, and fur boots set upon a sack nearby. A burn mark on my arm, still warm and in the twisted shape of a coiled dragon, hisses.
Who am I? Due to the coloration of my skin, I know I must be Half-Elf, from far North. Where am I? What do I do? Where do I go? Someone MUST know something that can unlock my past. I gather what seems left for me, and set out cautiously.
I hear a small trickle, a slow movement of water passing by somewhere to my right and I realize how thirsty I am. No more than 50 paces from where I awoke a narrow brook settles into a fresh water pool. I bend to draw the water cupped in my hands, and fall back startled. In the water, instead of my bluish hue and flame tipped eyes reflecting back at me is a snarling, lunging Ice wolf! Falling back onto my hind, the image dissolves into a ripple that dances back into the stillness of the calm pool. Maybe I am not that thirsty.
I collect myself and head the opposite direction. I feel somehow both terrified and connected to the wolf image I had seen in the water. It won’t be the last time I feel like this, I am sure.
A snap and brief thrash of fallen foliage raises the hairs on my arm, and instinctively I dash and roll behind a fallen Grand Oak. Through the mist, I can not be certain who or what might be approaching, but I can make out four to six sets of footsteps and cloaks of black with red lining and trim. As the grouping advances I can distinguish a male dwarf, beaten and tied, being drug along.
“I need a distraction,” I whisper, barely audible. Almost instantly, as the breath that formed that thought parted my lips, a varmint cackles and rustles a neighboring brush. The party abruptly halts and turns to face the diversion. Without hesitation, I find myself rising like a flame; arrow already drawn in a taut bow. Like the lap of flickering wick, the first draw meets it’s mark. As the first figure stumbles then falls forward, arrow through the back of the neck, the dregs wheel about in confusion searching for the deliverer of their comrades demise.
With little to no sound I am 20 paces away moving behind them again. So close to them now, I rapidly thrust my dagger once, twice, three, four times…and a slice. The next one falls, life escaping. I am now 10 lengths up a nearby tree.
In the brief moment of their confusion, I am able to compose myself and wonder in how I was just able to achieve what just transpired. Moment over, I find myself nimbly crawling along a branch preparing to pounce upon the next victim. Crouched like a wild cat, eyes darting left and right, calculating, my scarred arm starts to burn and the sword now drawn in it’s clasp is enflamed. Interesting…