Upon Arcanum's Eastern Shore.....

{OOC} Greetings! I realize that the roleplaying forum has been a bit dead as of late, but I'm gonna give it a whirl. I'm feeling a creative urge. From the rules post, I gather there's no "character submission" system, so here I go. I'm not sure where I intend to go with this, but, that's the beauty of 'living threads'. No one's sure where it's going to go till it gets there. Besides, it's not the destination that's important. It's the journey.{/ooc}

The sun rose high in the sky, warming the Eastern shore of Arcanum. The golden-orange light glittered and glinted off a prostrate form amidst the sand and rocks. With a grunt, the shape begins to stir.


A man, slight of frame, but covered in whipcorded muscles sat up and surveyed the scene. His slightly pointed ears twitched, and his long, once-braided auburnn hair danced in the sea breeze as he tilted his head and listened to the sea lap upon the shore. His eyes fell on a shattered log raft near the rocks. Stiffly, he began to stand.

I'll be needin' a blade and some armour..
He thought as he inspected the wet, and salt-damaged leather armour he wore.

Where the bloody hell am I?

Flashes came back to him. A horrific battle within a stockaded colony. It left many dead, and himself greviously wounded. It had been an island. He remembered finding a raft and hiding under it until the sounds of battle subsided, while he summoned the last of his energy to heal his wounds. He remembered shoving the raft into the surf, amidst flying arrows and bullets. Next thing he remembered was waking up here, baking in the morning sun.

Och! I be needin' a drink! he uttered. Where's th' nearest town, I wonder?

He gathered what remained of his wits, and since the sea was to the East, he assumed the nearest town would be West. So he put his back to the sea, and strode lithely into the West.

{ooc}((I have a basic idea of what this character's stats are, but I haven't worked out all the details. If this goes anywhere, I'll be happy to come up with them, if needed.))

 

{OOC}( A day's journey has passed. The man, obviously of Elven descent has found his way to a grove a bit North of Ashbury, as the sun began to sink){/ooc}

The traveller paused in his journey when he noticed the sun dropping to the horizon. He'd found a grove of trees and decided this was as good a place as any to set up camp. A quick loop of the perimeter told him the area was empty save for himself. He set about the task of gathering firewood. During his journey, he'd come across a rusty sword, and a knife upon the corpse of what he assumed was a brigand.. After the first load of firewood was gathered he set them down next to the makeshift firepit. He eyed a young, straight sapling of yew, and cut it down. He'd also found a reasonably straight 'staff' of oak lying in the leaves. The man glanced to the sky to mark the sun's position. It was nearing dusk, and dark was coming on quickly. His stomach began to twitch and cramp with hunger. He needed to eat. He knew there were boars around, he'd come across some relatively fresh droppings during his wood-gathering foray.

When the wood was neatly stacked, he sat back and stripped off his worn leather armor. Using the knife he'd looted, he cut the armor into thin strips. He then tied the knife to the end of the oaken 'staff' he'd found. Now he had a spear. Silently, he strode into the treeline, and began tracking a boar.

Some time later, it was now full dusk, and the wooded shadows played tricks on the eyes. The smell came to him, and he froze in mid-stride. He quickly spied a tree and moved toward it. Without breaking stride, he shimmied right up the trunk, making no more noise than a squirrel.

From his vantage point in the tree, he could see a rock outcropping just the other side of the small ridge where the smell first came to him. In the shadowy dusk, he could just make out the outline of a cave in the rocks. It appeared no bigger than 4 foot wide, and perhaps 5 feet tall. Not quite big enough for a man to walk through, but a child or one of the minute races could fit fairly easily.

Snuffing and grunting, a good-sized boar emerged from the mouth of the cave. Most likely seeking out a pre-dark snack. It began grazing about the mouth of the cave, then ambled toward the very tree the Elf(?) was perched in.

He waited. When the boar was directly under him, the Elf held the spear out before him, point down, and lept from the tree. With a muffled scream, the boar died. Dinner time. The Elf slung the boar over his shoulders and strode back to his camp, where he gutted the boar.

It was now full dark, and he needed a fire. The Elf whispered a word in an ancient tongue. A spark lept from his fingertips and caught the kindling aflame. A moment later, an infantile flame rose from the kindling and writhed along the stacked logs. He quickly fashioned a makeshift spit and began roasting the boar.

While his dinner cooked, the Elf stripped the bark from the yew shaft he'd cut . He set the shaft down and inspected the sinew that dried on the rocks of the firepit. Nearly ready. He then went back to the yew, carving notches in the top and bottom of the shaft. He checked the sinew again. It was ready. He retrieved the longest piece from the bunch, and tied loops into each end, then hooked one of the loops over the top of the shaft. It nested easily into the grooves he'd carved. The Elf stood and held the shaft upright against the ground. Grunting with effort, he bent the top end of the yew backwards until the dangling sinew could reach the bottom. His arm muscles strained, and veins popped out as he stretched the wood, and looped the end of the sinew cord around the bottom of the shaft. The Elf held newly fashioned bow against the firelight. It looked sound, and curved gracefully at the right angles. He plucked the sinew. The resounding thunk! told him that the bow was sturdy, and ready for use. Now all he needed was some arrows. He was sure he could find branches and twigs straight enough to use, but what to use for fletching?
He wasn't likely to catch a bird without arrows, and he still wasn't sure where the nearest town was. Well at least he had the bow. Arrows weren't terribly hard to come by. One just needed to look. There might be a bird corpse to find and pilfer some feathers from. But he wasn't about to search in the dark. That was a job for daylight. He poked at the boar meat with his knife, and found it was ready for consumption. He cut off a long strip and ate it. He'd managed to gather some salt from the sea, and some herbs from the forest, so he could preserve the meat for journey rations.

He sat on his haunches staring into the fire, reflecting as he chewed his meat.

Where am I? How did I come to be here? I get the impression I'm running from something, or someone. But who? Or what, for that matter? What was that island, that battle, all about? All I really know is my name...

[OOC]I know I'm taking a little creative liscense here. But I'm doing it for story sake. I have a rough idea for a plotline, and it's slowly coming to me as I type. That's pretty much how I work when it comes to things like this. Anyone, feel free to hop in at anytime. I'm not doing this just to boost my post numbers, but I will keep telling the story until I'm either told to stop, or completely lose the idea. That's what storytellers do..:wink:.[/ooc]

 

Somewhere in the Glimmering Forest...

An ancient looking Elf, sat upon a wooden throne contemplating. Lost in thought, he barely heard the knock at the chamber door. He glanced toward the door. Mage lights glowed along the walls, casting a bluish glow to the wooden walls.



Enter.. his voice was reedy, nearly melodic.

The large door creaked open, and a young, dark-haired Elf entered.

Pardon the interruption My Lord.

Ahh, Thelwyn. What can I do for you this day, trusted advisor? the Lord replied.

Lord Kantyr, I bring distressing news.

Of what nature, lad?

The dark-haired Elf took a deep breath.
My Lord, TairNean Aibhainndubh has escaped from the Black Isle. I fear he may come back here and attempt to strike at you again. He tried to assassinate you once before. Now he's been banished, and likely has an even more bitter score to settle.

The Lord nodded.


Aye, that is distressing. How does one manage to escape the Isle of Despair? Do you really think he will try again?

Thelwyn looked away briefly, and uttered
He's very resourceful. I'd stake my life that he'll be back, Lord.

Indeed. Perhaps he should be found. Send out some hunters, and a few Rangers, to track him down, and bring him here.

My Lord, with all due respect. Is that wise? That could put you in grave danger.

Lord Kantyr chuckled.
Ahh, Thelwyn. I always stand face to face with an enemy. Morever, we haven't determined why he attacked me in the first place. I want to know why. That is not common practice among Elves.

Thelwyn inclined his head slowly.
As you wish, M'lord. I'll dispatch a party to find the rogue.

Very well. You are dismissed.

Thelwyn turned to the door, and opened it.

And Thelwyn?

Sir?

Make sure you tell the party that I want him alive.

Aye, M'lord.

Thelwyn strode from the chamber, and caught the attention of the Ranger Captain.

Captain, dispatch a team of your best hunters, and Rangers. I've receieved word that TairNean Aibhainndubh escaped from the Isle of Despair. I want him found, dead or alive. Preferably dead. No Elf that attacks our Lord should be permitted to live.

Yes m'lord. the Captain snapped to attention, then strode off to gather his forces.

Well TairNean. You are a slippery lout aren't ye. No mater. You'll be found.