conversations: human
conversations:  Spoiler: prologue 
    The Ranger  
  "Quickly now, quickly!" The tall elf hissed. His blond hair whipped in the wind behind him as he and his charges ran silently through the woods.
  "I can't!" cried the boy, gasping for breath. His feet flailed wildly as he tried his best to keep up with the older elf.
  "You must," he replied. He didn't slow down. He couldn't. The Emperor's hired goons were right behind them. If they slowed down--even a little--those evil men would catch them, and kill the boy he had sworn to protect. The ranger would die a thousand deaths before he let that happen.
  
  His eyes took in every leaf, every bird and every insect as they ran. They were like the eyes of an eagle, taking in every detail, noticing every movement. Only he wasn't looking for prey, he was looking for other predators. Any one else could have only seen giant trees and thick underbrush. The ranger saw past them. He saw  through  them. He saw a rocky outcropping at the edge of the woods, perhaps half a mile away. They had a chance.
  
  The ranger signaled to the other elves behind him. They split of to the north and south. He gestured towards a thick tangle of undergrowth. The woman took the young boy and his friend by the hand and disappeared into it. He made a sign with his hands, spoke the ancient language his father had taught him, and prayed to the Wood Father and Earth Mother to protect them.
  
  The boy's heart thundered in his chest like a stampeding bull. The woman patted his shoulder to try and comfort him. It didn't help. He and his friend exchanged nervous glances. The boy watched as the Ranger ran off. Moments later the bounty hunters ran by with bows raised, arrows ready to fire. The boy couldn't see. It looked like they might overtake him. He tried to stand to get a better look. The woman tried to grab him by they arm and pull him back down. It was too late.
  
  The boy watched in horror as a bounty hunter's arrow buried itself deep into the ranger's back. The woman instantly jumped up and clapped a hand over they boy's mouth to keep him from crying out. She pulled him back down into the bush. The boy's eyes widened suddenly as he saw himself, his friend, and the woman go running off in another direction. One of the men shouted. Ten of the twelve bounty hunters took off after them, firing arrows as they went.
  
  The woman crouched low, holding the boys close. Seconds felt like hours. The boy's gaze crept up, peering through the leaves until he could see the two men that remained. They crept slowly towards the ranger's body, bows drawn. There were shouts in the distance. The other bounty hunters were calling out that they had shot at the boy, and they had missed.
  
  One of the two kicked at the ranger's body. His boot passed through it.
  "It wasn't him!" shouted the hunter, "You're chasing an illusion!"
  "Double back!" called out the other hunter. They glanced at each other and began scanning the trees and bushes for their prey. One turned towards the briar patch. The boy was sure he was staring straight at him. The hunter took a step forward. An evil smile split his face. They boy would have gasped if the woman's hand hadn't been tightly clamped over his mouth. The boy's friend panicked, jumping up from the bush and running as fast as his feet could carry him.
  
  Both hunters brought up their bows and took aim. One stiffened suddenly, his arrow flying harmlessly into the trees. They other fired his arrow into the dirt before going completely limp and falling on his face. Three arrows protruded from his back. Then the other one finally fell, revealing the arrows in his back as well.
  
  The illusion of the ranger's body faded away as he ran back into view.
  "Come back boy!" he called
  "I'll get him," offered the woman, standing quickly.
  "What about the others?" asked the boy, his voice shaking. Cries in the distance answered his question. The ranger held out his hand.
  "Come. We haven't much time."
  
  In minutes they stood atop the outcropping, watching hordes of elves comb the woods behind them.
   
conversations: Artman77:
conversations: human
conversations:  Once upon a time, there was an ordinary farm boy who lived in an ordinary village. The village was peaceful and quiet, nestled between the wild wood and the rocky river. The village was home to people hiding from adventure and home to people wishing for it, but adventure never came...
  
  Until one day, when Renly was tending the field, he saw them. He peered into the distance for a moment, not quite believing what he saw. There were three men, running towards him. Running quickly, waving their arms frantically. And a boy. A young boy Renly's age, perhaps younger. A cloud of dust rose up from the ground behind them. Then it dawned on him.
  
  They were covered in blood. The hair rose on the back of his neck. The cloud was from horsemen, no doubt. Horsemen intent on killing the men on foot. Renly's heart pounded in his chest.
  "Quick boy! Fetch the guard!" the men called from the distance.
  Renly froze. There were no town guard. Whom then should he call upon? He didn't have much time to think. Soon they were upon him.
  "Boy! Where are the guards?" One of the men grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him in desperation. Renly snapped to his senses.
  "W--w--we have none." he stuttered.
  "What?"
  "We have none."
  "We haven't much time, a band of outlaws rides to kill us and this young boy, noble birth his only crime."
  "I'll hide you. Come on!"
  
  Heads turned as they ran through the small village, past the smithy and the mill, past the library and meeting hall and around the back of the old stone church at the village's center. It was a monument of a bygone era, its wall beset by time, its windows cracked and faded, its wooden doors soft with age. Neglect had covered its floors with dirt and kept its secrets from all who now lived in the village. All that was, except Renly. Onlookers watched curiously as the villager's favorite farm boy ushered the odd foursome inside.
  
   ---------------------------------- 
  Hooves thundered down the main dirt road that lead to the church. A crowd gathered to stare in awe at the sight. Their horses were a proud and noble breed. Their saddles were of the finest leather. Their armor was of the highest quality anywhere in the nine realms. The sharpness of their swords was only matched by the sharpness of their sight and their deadly accuracy with the bow. Elves.
  
  "We come in peace!" said the leader in response to the fear he saw in the villagers' eyes, "We are pursing a band of criminals! They have kidnapped an elven child! Tell us where they have run so that we may save him!"
  
  The elves' polished armor glinted in the sun. No one said a word. Nobody moved.
  
  "For the sake of the child! The criminals must be brought to justice!"
  
  One of the women glanced around nervously, clutching at her shawl. She opened her mouth to speak, but was suddenly elbowed by her husband. The elf saw the nudge. Then he saw the worry in her eyes. He turned his horse towards them and trotted forward. The black steed towered over them. His shoulders passed in front of the sun, casting a shadow over them.
  
  "I only wish to keep the child safe," his voice was calm and smooth, "just... tell us where they are."
  "We don't want any trouble," said the husband.
  The horseman ignored him. He locked his dark gaze on the woman, leaning towards her as he spoke.
  "Tell us where they are, and no one gets hurt."
  "W-w-we didn't see anyone come through here, so just move along!"
  
  The elf lashed out suddenly, grabbing the woman by her hair. She shrieked with terror. The husband lunged forward, shouting at the elf to let her go. He received a kick in the belly for his efforts. His friends rushed forward to fight but we immediately struck down with the butt-ends of the horsemens' spears.
  
  The villagers watched in terror as the elves began lighting torches. They rode to the edge of the streets, kicking or riding over farmers who attempted to get in their way. They set the thatched roofs ablaze.
  
  "It is a pity this town is so far from the great cities of your fellow men! Perhaps more learned minds would have had the wisdom to acquiesce to their superiors!!"
conversations: Artman77:
conversations: human
conversations:  Karpan Davos  
  
  When the villagers got up to see what the commotion was, Davos continued his meal.  Only when loud voices made their way into the tavern did he stand up and look to the window.
  
  Elves.
  
  His face twisted into a sneer.  Nothing good would come of this.  He quietly slipped out of the back of the tavern and made his way to the town's well.  He'd be damned if he'd go back to rooting around for berries and fruits after only half a decent meal.  Three days in the bloody wilderness and he has to walk into the only village in 500 miles to get raided by bloody elves.
  
  He fully intended to Call upon the spirit of the water  to douse those flames and deal with the raiders.  The surprises look on the faces of those smug purebloods would be a nice bonus, if he could pull it off...
conversations: Thundercracker:
conversations: human
conversations:  Grandar had grown accustomed to boredom in his time, the war he was seeking was still many weeks wondering off, still by the sound of dissent outside he way not have to wait that long before indulging in his own worship. With hope in his heart he uttered a prayer to his gods before hefting his axe and his longbow and journeying through the backstreets towards where everyone else was gathering.
conversations: JbeJ275:
conversations: human
conversations:  Doing an odd job scratching at the dirt in this backwater village, shaking out last nights drinking
  
         
       Talisker Skye     
   
    
   
  Hears horse hooves, and shouts.
  
  Dropping the shovel, he goes to spy and sees armed horsemen.. Elves? burning the village.
  
  He was just passing through.
  
  He really didn't know these people.
  
  The smart thing to do would be to stay hidden, and then escape.
  
  Talisker was never very smart.
  
  He goes to collect his war gear.
conversations: 2D8HP:
conversations: human
conversations:  Atop a nearby hill, a proud old man sits under a proud old tree, resting from his travels, trained eyes absent-mindedly scanning the horizon. Aldric Aiden is his name. Before he acknowledges the rising smoke, his body does. His right hand springs to his left hip, but finds no sword there. Sighing, he climbs to his feet, reaching for his backpack.
  
  He retrieves his chainmail hauberk and dons it over the padded clothing covering his body against the biting wind, and clasps the plate armor to his arms and legs. He slings his sword over his shoulder and clasps it to his belt. Securing the straps on his helmet, he runs his hand through his graying beard and into his holy symbol, grasping it tightly.
  
  The symbol of a promise to protect the weak and defend the innocent.
  
  Finally, he grabs his staff and rummages in his bag for the spearhead, and hammers the three rivets into place with a rock, ending up with a solid spear.
  
  Donning his cloak, he speaks to his horse. " Today we ride, friend, " he jumps atop her and spurs her lightly.
  
  " May the gods be with us all, " the holy warrior utters, gripping his holy symbol.
conversations: wkwkwkwk1:
conversations: human
conversations:  The straw crackled as the roofs went up in flame. Dark smoke rose into the sky.
  "Let her go!" shouted the farmer desperately. A young man charged. The leader drew his sword and plunged it into the young man's chest with a single fluid motion. The woman shrieked in terror. The tension rose.
  
  Men looked at each other anxiously, then at the husband, not wondering  what  they should do, but if they should do it  now . As some would later recount, that day they had fought fifty elves. Some would say over a hundred. To the fearful observer, that estimate would be correct. In reality it was closer to twenty. None of that mattered now. What mattered was the blood of their dead friend seeping into the ground.
  
  A lone figure appeared in the street, jaw set, weapon in hand. He strode confidently forward.
  
   
   Spoiler: OOC 
  The "lone figure" could be anyone... First come first serve. Go ahead and roll your magic/combat/diplomacy skills when you post, and I'll describe the outcome(s) in the next post
   
conversations: Artman77:
conversations: human
conversations:  Grandar approached the elf in the lead, murmuring under his breath a constant prayer to the old Gods, combat to fight this type of oppressor was the noblest of all. He walked with a steady caution towards the elf in the lead whereupon he swung his axe going down in a decisive swing.
  
   
   Spoiler: OOC: 
  
  I think is how it works, what do I need to roll?
   (6d6)[ 22 ] 
   
conversations: JbeJ275:
conversations: human
conversations:  Spying glass in hand, Aldric scans the carnage, gritting his teeth. Seeing the warrior walk forth, he spurs his mount and urges it along.
conversations: wkwkwkwk1: