Rivin scratched his nose and leaned against the wooden fence at the edge of the small village, watching the burly, shirtless man split a particularly gnarled looking log, one that had to have come from an ancient tree. Behind the laborer, next to where the dark elf stood watching, there was a stack of neatly split lumber. On the other side of the tree stump he used as his work-surface, a very large pile of uncut logs waited for the man's hatchet.<br/><br/>He felt an inch and scratched his right cheek beneath the eyepatch, wondering if he'd made the right decisions in choosing his line of work. It wasn't like being a full blooded Dark elf, down to the reddish-maroon eyes, grey skin and high cheekbones, left one with a multitude of options. It was either work odd jobs or go into the army, which he had absolutely no desire to do. A life of crime would've been more profitable but would've also required a lot more effort.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">"Need some help there, friend?" </span>asked Rivin, as he stuck a hand into the right side pocket of his breeches, where he usually kept his coin. His fingers felt cloth and nothing else, to his disappointment. If pressed he could kill his own lunch, but what he really wanted was a mug of ale, which was out of reach for him if he didn't have the funds to procure it. There was still a small bottle of kavodrum tucked into one of his boots, but it had cost him all the money he had left and he was saving it for an emergency.<br/><br/>Hearing him, the man turned around, an eager smile on his face- woodcutters working out in the sun were always happy to take a break, even if it meant losing a bit of coin. The sun's rays were particularly harsh that afternoon, and the man's cheeks and shoulders were red, as if to prove it.<br/><br/>As soon as the man caught sight of Rivin the smile slid from his face to be replaced by a look of the utmost distrust (precisely the reaction Rivin was expecting).<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">"You're no friend of mine, firi'wuhn."</span><br/><br/>Rivin watched him, not upset or surprised in the least- thanks to how often he heard it, the term didn't even bother him anymore. It was being called a deserter that got to him. One day, if enough people shouted it at him, true or not, it would likely earn him an arrow in the back.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">"Since you seem so <span style="font-style: italic">friendly</span>, I find that a little surprising. You want help or not?"</span><br/><br/>The man, who didn't seem like the sharpest tool in the shed, spat on the ground between them.<span style="color: #00FF00">"Shouldn't you be in the army? Instead of here defiling my fence?" </span><br/><br/>Rivin released the flimsy, uneven wooden rail and stared down at it, his lone eye wide with mock admiration.<span style="color: #00FF00">"And what a <span style="font-style: italic">fine</span> fence it is! Even the dwarves would envy its craftsmanship!" </span><br/><br/>The man stared at him for a moment, appearing to have missed the sarcasm. After a moment he glanced from the large pile of uncut lumber to the blinding sun above them, then back to Rivin.<span style="color: #00FF00">"Two coppers." </span><br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">"You've got to be kidding," </span>countered Rivin, disgusted.<span style="color: #00FF00">"That's worth at least five." </span><br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">"I should offer you one, you filthy grey-skinned deserter," </span>the wood cutter spat, before turning back to his task, hefting the hatchet once more.<br/><br/><br/>As Rivin walked away, without breaking stride he whispered something and pointed at the pile of split logs; he was down the road and well on his way when he finally heard shouts behind him. Turning, he saw a thin column of smoke rising up from the edge of the village.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">"Joh'wat,"</span>he mumbled to himself, pleased- sometimes the only way to educate others was to burn their lumber. He wasn't sure if that was a saying or not, but it seemed like it should have been.<br/><br/>The satisfied grin slipped from his face as he glimpsed the armor of the Empire approaching from up ahead; two soldiers had seen him and were closing in quickly, undoubtedly because they noticed his race and lack of Imperial gear.<span style="color: #00FF00">"Well, here we go again,"</span>he said sadly as the two, one a female elf, with only a long knife at her belt, and the other a human male with a sword at his side and a heavy looking shield on his left arm.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">"Before you start,"</span>he said as the elf opened her mouth,<span style="color: #00FF00">"I'm not a deserter. I showed up for enlistment and they said I was unfit for duty."</span>He could see in her cheekbones and the tone of her skin that she was Dark elven, but only partly. There was no brand visible on her cheek, anyway.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">"Why, because of the eyepatch? What, did you look into a mirror?" </span>the male soldier asked with a chuckle, pleased with his joke. Rivin watched him coldly.<span style="color: #00FF00">"Oh yes, I'm ugly. I must say, that's <span style="font-style: italic">very clever</span>. But it would be funnier if your own face didn't resemble an Orc's backside." </span><br/><br/>The man's expression darkened and he placed a hand on the hilt of his sword; Rivin watched him warily, wondering if he hadn't gone just a bit too far. He could kill the man with relative ease, but the last thing he wanted to do was use destruction magic in front of an Imperial eyewitness, not to mention any others that might be watching. It would only take one pair of eyes seeing him at the wrong moment to finish him, and he was standing in a wide open area.<br/><br/>The soldier didn't draw his sword, but Rivin wasn't out of the water yet.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">"I don't believe him,"</span>he said to his comrade, who was watching Rivin with great interest.<span style="color: #00FF00">"Having one eye shouldn't stop him from throwing fireballs. Right?"</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">"Well, he is a Dark Elf,"</span>she replied thoughtfully.<br/><br/>Not liking where things were going, Rivin moved forward, extending his palms; they both started, the female going into a defensive stance and the man tensing up, his sword halfway out of its sheathe before they realized he wasn't attacking them.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">"Look," </span>he said, showing them the flame brands on his palms.<span style="color: #00FF00">"See these? They mean I'm too dangerous for the field. If you took me in they'd only write you up for wasting their time and yours."</span><br/><br/>The elf moved closer to him, her expression somewhat unreadable.<span style="color: #00FF00">"You seem sure of yourself."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">"I am, because it's happened before. More than once." </span><br/><br/>She put a gauntleted hand out, touching his shoulder, her fingers flexing against the taut muscles connecting his arm to his neck.<span style="color: #00FF00">"A shame, you'd make a fine soldier. Very strong…" </span>she added with a smile.<br/><br/>Rivin watched her darkly; her interest was a ploy, he knew. The world had beaten all hopes of romance and friendship out of him, and he knew better than to place his faith in an Imperial- even if she<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>decent looking.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF00">"I'm not interested in a daughter of filth, Si'akt."  </span><br/><br/>She stared at him in disbelief.<span style="color: #00FF00">"But you… you're a Dark Elf!" </span><br/><br/>Rivin returned the stare incredulously, with a shrug of his shoulders.<span style="color: #00FF00">"What, I'm not allowed to hate myself? Now you may take your half-firi'wuhn hand off me, if you please. I already bathed this week and I don't have time to waste washing your remnants from my shoulder."</span><br/><br/>She snatched her hand back as the surprise on her face was replaced by a very ugly look; she glanced at her fellow soldier, who was watching with the shadow of a smirk on his face.<span style="color: #00FF00">"Maybe he'll show us what he's capable of if… pressed,"</span>she said with a narrowing of her eyes that told Rivin his mouth had, once again, gotten him into trouble.<br/><br/>She reached out with the same hand, this time shoving him back; he was much heavier than her, but he still allowed himself to be pushed away by a few steps. He needed to put some distance between himself and the pair, or he'd be forced to do exactly what they wanted him to do.<br/><br/>She shoved him again, and he went a few more steps back, realizing he was very close to the tree-line behind him. If he could only make it into the foliage, he could possibly slip away…<br/><br/>The male soldier moved closer, hefting his shield menacingly; Rivin had a good idea of what would be happening next. Just as the man arrived within arm’s reach of him, alongside his comrade, Rivin suddenly turned and fled, releasing a small gasp of desperation as he pumped his legs as quickly as they could go, plunging into the forest.<br/><br/>The metallic sound of armor hitting wood followed right behind him; he swore under his breath, realizing he hadn’t caught them by surprise as he’d intended. He picked an erratic path forward, weaving between trees, turning right, making a sharp left, then sprinting straight forward, desperate to shake off his pursuers.<br/><br/>He could still hear them following, but mercifully it seemed they were a little further behind- at that point Rivin suddenly heard voices to his right, distracting him from his purpose. He heard the delicate sound of a female's voice, Elven he believed, followed by a much more familiar sound- the gruff tone of a Dwarf's speech. He froze and turned, his surprise overpowering all other thoughts- he thought he glimpsed several figures standing in a clearing.<br/><br/>Before he could do more than take two steps towards them, something heavy smashed into the side of his head and the world went black.