DM Handle: Sylvirci

Character Name: Valynt Nororama

Physical Appearance: 5′10 and 135lbs. Black hair with a light grey streak from crown tip to back of neck, the middle of his head. Eyes were sapphire blue, now a dark gold color. Valynt is a slender lad with dark golden eyes and black hair shot through with a light grey streak that glistens with a silvery sheen in moonlight. He has been trained in the ways of a hunter and as such is supple and graceful in his movements, like a wolf stalking prey. His skin is a golden tan color marred by the tiny scars of dueling and hunting wild game and he bears those marks with pride. He is an average looking lad with a fierce and slightly wild unkempt look about him that some find highly appealing.

Age: 16

Gender: Male

Wolf Name: Silverstreak, as close as it gets from the wolf-images.

Place of Birth/Raising: Chachin, Kandor

Physical Appearance: 5′10 and 135lbs. Black hair with a light grey streak from crown tip to back of neck, the middle of his head. Eyes were sapphire blue, now a dark gold color. Valynt is a slender lad with dark golden eyes and black hair shot through with a light grey streak that glistens with a silvery sheen in moonlight. He has been trained in the ways of a hunter and as such is supple and graceful in his movements, like a wolf stalking prey. His skin is a golden tan color marred by the tiny scars of dueling and hunting wild game and he bears those marks with pride. He is an average looking lad with a fierce and slightly wild unkempt look about him that some find highly appealing.

Personality: He is a guarded and quiet lad around people who are not hunters or woodsman, and there are not many of those in Chachin. He is friendly with others in small groups, but any mention of his… uniqueness and he clams up or changes the subject. He prefers solitude to the company of most and his father has only increased this quirk of his. Losing his mother during the onset of his changes, he has become fearful of forming close bonds and then losing them. The only other person he has a close bond to, well, you’ll just have to hear his tale…

History/Background:

Valynt was running, hard and fast, through the lightly forested hills that sat just North of the Black Hills. He could hear the men pursuing him, but with his hearing like this being so new it was hard to judge their distance. He could feel the wind whipping through his hair and drying the light sweat as soon as it seeped out of him. He was afraid though, so he didn’t notice the sight or sounds of animals scurrying out of his way. He only felt his fear of being caught and the thoughts or images flashing through his mind in fleeting snatches.

**********

He was six and his father had just given him his first long knife. A boy two years older had challenged him to a duel. His mother felt he was too young but his father said he needed to learn and now was as good as any time to start. Looking at the older boy he felt a moment of fear before his father spoke softly into his ear. It was a reassurance that no adult would let a maiming or killing blow be struck, it was to first blood only. Valynt wasn’t sure why the boy had challenged him but he would never forget that first duel. It set the tone for how others saw him later in life.

He was ten paces from the boy, holding his knife awkwardly in his hand. It was new to him and felt heavy, he wasn’t sure he could do it. The other boy gripped his knife like he had done this before and there was a crowd forming made up of others he played with and yet others, who like the older boy, taunted him constantly. Then the older boy flew forward with his knife pointing straight at his heart. Reacting as quickly as he could, Valynt turned while moving sideways and, gripping the hilt hard, let his knife trail across the older boy’s stomach. The boy fell, writhing in pain and screaming, the screaming so loud that it froze Valynt in place. The knife fell from his numb hand and he watched as healers were called and the boy’s open belly was closed and bandaged until a healer could come.

The boy died a short time later and everyone blamed him. They said that he shouldn’t have been able to avoid the other boy, or that he shouldn’t have been that lucky in his first duel. They whispered it was the Dark One’s luck, but not around his father or him. They whispered it around his mother though who kept it to herself and to his friends, who started to look at him differently. Within a year he had lost all but a handful of his friends and no one ever challenged him again.

************************************

His heart was pounding just as loudly as the horses hooves that trailed him. How long before they would overrun him he wasn’t sure, and he was surprised they hadn’t yet. He pushed himself to move faster which was hard as he was avoiding most things that would mark his passing. Twigs, brambles, bushes and trees would all leave signs that would be too easy to follow from horseback. He wanted to slow them down and force them to dismount in order to follow him then he would have a chance, but it was very hard to accomplish that while running as fast as he could.

The images flashing through his mind weren’t helping either, especially the ones that seemed to be him right now as if being seen from behind. The wolves surrounding him weren’t helping either, what did they want? They were herding him, as if they wanted him to escape but why? What were they planning for him?

************************************

Another memory, this one when he was twelve. He was getting ready to tell his father he was ready for the trip to Andor. His father was suppose to escort a merchant down there and back for the Queen and gather what news he could while he was there. Valynt was going to increase his skills at hunting and gathering information so he could one day be like his father, a spy master for the Queen.

His parents were talking in hushed but heated voices. His father was trying to convince his mother to stay while his mother said that Valynt’s grey streak in his hair was a mark of the Dark One and now his dreams and talking in his sleep about wolves and shadows fighting the wolves. It freaked her out and she was done living with someone touched by such darkness. She wouldn’t declare her son a dark friend but she wouldn’t live with him either. By the time they got back she would be with her mother on those estates.

The trip went well but his father made them sleep well away from the merchant and his guards. The only problem the entire trip was when his father and he were hunting one night in the outer edge of the Black Hills. His father was about to shoot a stag when out of nowhere Valynt got an image of wolves taking it down, and an arrow piercing one wolf. He panicked because he could hear and smell wolves close by, so he grabbed his father’s arm, offsetting his shot. Just then wolves attacked and took down the stag, and when they finished they brought a hunk of the raw meat to him and laid it about ten paces away.

His father never said a word but he never looked at Valynt again without a wondering look in his eyes. His father wanted to ask him but was afraid of the answer, so rather then ask and see him as a dark friend he kept quiet about it. That was the trip where he completely lost his mother and lost his father’s affection and teachings. His father still cared for him but from that day forward a gap had formed that would never heal.

**********************************

The Black Hills loomed up as the trees gave way to increasingly bigger hills. He could hear running water and remembered that if he had ran due South the river before him started in the Black Hills and ended in the river halfway between Tar Valon and Aringill. Here though is close to where it starts, and he made his way towards it. He knew if he could cross that river it would take the riders days to find a place to ford across, days he needed at the moment. He listened as best he could and was surprised to find that the sound of hooves was quieter and fading. Glancing around he spotted the dozen or so wolves that surrounded him.

He wondered at them, with their tongues lolling out the sides of their mouths. They hadn’t once made a move against him, but they hadn’t that day either, when he had protected those merchants. When he had also started preferring meat over any other food, and the bloodier the better.

************************************

Fourteen and he was shaping into a really good hunter and spy. He could catch occasional snatches of conversations from a greater distance then his father could. Like now he was eating a large slab of slightly bloody meat and the only other food he wanted was potatoes. All the way across the tavern was several men he had just helped escort back from Andor. They were talking about how uncanny he was at finding game and hunting, as well as how the wolves had backed down from him rather then attacking. He listened and watched others casually to see if they heard what was being said and their reaction. He continued to eat and realized he no longer wanted anything else but meat right now. So he left the potatoes untouched, and left quietly while looking carefully at others while they ate.

Fearing what people would say he started eating in his rooms, privately. It didn’t help that the images were getting more frequent or that his father put him in the highest room at night so his dream talking couldn’t be heard by anyone. He noticed that his hearing was also getting better and that he could smell things from further away then others he knew. He was starting to panic and believe his mother might have been right, he was touched by the Dark One. He vowed to fight it with all he had, never would he serve such a being!

****************************************

He was at the river now and without hesitation, dove in and swam across. At this point it didn’t surprise him that the wolves climbed out as he did or that they immediately surrounded him. They led him to a thicket set deep in a horseshoe shaped rock formation, and showed him how to enter. He crawled on his belly into the heart of the thicket and was surprised to find pups and more wolves. He was scared of being caught and fed up with running and hiding his…differences, so he said quietly, ” What do you want of me? Why do you help me?”

Images poured into his mind at an alarming rate. He could just make out that some were his while most were not. That meant that the wolves had to be giving him the images.. It was too much so he latched onto an image he knew was his.

*****************************************

A few months ago he had been walking through town at dusk. He saw the most beautiful young woman he had ever known walking towards him. She smiled sweetly at him while her escort glared at him. He vaguely remembered the man as one of those that disliked him and his oddities. He smiled shyly and walked quickly past.

The next morning she came to his house and asked him to walk with her. She explained that to keep her honor her brother would be their escort but he wouldn’t interfere with them. Her brother was the scowler from the night before but he left them be as he watched like a hawk.

The next few months seemed to fly by in a rapt wonderful bliss of laughter and talks that lasted well past dusk. It was a wonderful time, where she learned of his life, his oddities and she didn’t shy away! Instead she embraced him wholeheartedly and begged him to seek her father and mother for her hand. He was falling in love so fast and strongly that on the night of his sixteenth birthday he slipped up and it cost him everything..

He was alone with her in his family garden. His father had decided to throw a big party for his turning into a man and his choosing this night to seek out her parents and request their daughter’s hand in marriage. Shimuko, his love and the light of his life was dressed beautifully in a bright cream and green outfit fit for a noble of her family’s status. He decided to tell her everything, his life, why his mother left, and all the things that had been happening over recent years.
He told her about the strange dreams, the images that seemed to be of things happening outside the walls. The way he could hear things from much farther then was normal or the way he could smell even the faintest scent and identify it. Of the way his eyes seem to be sharper then others and finally of the hunting trips and how the wolves he could swear were always the same ones hunted with him. How he wanted to set down his bow and use a long knife to hunt as they did, and had done so several times in the past year. Of the scars to prove it, that he had earned from teeth and hooves and claws. What he failed to notice, couldn’t really, was that as he talked about all these things his eyes started changing. There was no real reason other then it was just happening, the final touch on a journey begun years earlier.

It did not however go unnoticed by her brother, who jumped forward and shoved him back shouting dark friend. The guests all came running and seeing his eyes, took up the charge. He stood quickly and sought out his love, but she was being ushered away and his father just stood in the back shaking his head sadly. He had hoped this day would never come but now that it had he could do nothing to help his son. Seeing that they were ready to hang him on the spot and no amount of arguing was going to help, Valynt fled.

He ran like the wind and fled the city, his life, everything he had known. Even his father and his love, the last two people he had ever expected to leave him had turned their backs on him.. He was alone and now hunted in the world. It was just barely felt when the pack joined him in his flight or when they turned him South towards the Black Hills.

**********************************

He cried, he had lost everything. So he cried and blamed the wolves, because he could understand them and knew now that he was more like them then the humans he had fled from. He cried himself to sleep, and was very aware that the wolves lay around him protectively.

The weapon techniques of the Rangers have been based on three very important principles:

1. Weapon Design – Long swords are no good in close quarters and it is also not easy to carry them through dense foliage. Our swords are shorter bladed and our weapons are much lighter than typically found weapons.

2. Systemization of Training – It is much easier to teach all warriors to use a single style of combat.

3. Refinement of Style – This focus on one fighting style allows the Ranger Leader to refine and define the “perfect” way to execute that fighting style.

The Weapons of the Wolfkin

Daggers
The Wolfkin have a large quantity of daggers. The classic Wolfkin dagger is a thin, short hafted, long bladed, eight inch long weapon.

Staffs
The standard quarterstaff is six feet in length with a number of metal studs driven into the wood near both ends. These metal studs give the weapon more heft and striking power, while the overall weapon remains remarkably light and quick. The quarterstaff is a two-handed weapon.

Swords
A Wolfkin sword is slightly curved and is about 3 feet in length. Perhaps its greatest virtue is that it requires almost no strength or deftness to wield effectively.

Practice wooden swords are also used when training at the Barracks. These are made of bundles of staves instead of a blade and will leave welts when they hit their opponent.

Bows
There are two major types of bows. The first is the typical training bow, of about four and a half feet in length. It has a maximum range of about 100 yards and is average compared to what you would find in the field. Bows of this sort are made from pieces of mountain ash, spruce or pine. They are strung with plaited or twisted deerskin.

The second type of bow is the Wolfkin longbow. This longbow is 5 feet long and is a composite of three layers of wood, horn and sinew, with the wood in the middle and the sinew on the outer curve. This bow can pierce a tree at about 170 yards.

The Wolfkin’s Tent
A Wolfkin’s tent has panels of the finest, hand-tanned leather, sewn with double seams and then carefully waxed for weatherproofing, increased durability and extended use. The sides, and even some of the roof panels, are vented with hanging, overlapping flaps that can be opened, weather permitting.

This should give you an outline on the idea behind WS. There is no limit on what people attain in WS, except those that are listed in the Weapons Score for the Wolfkin, at the bottom of this post.

Weaponskill

Weaponskill (WS) is a primary career path of Armsman, pseudo-Armsman, and Aiel Divisions.
Skill in a weapon is measured on a 20-point scale. Characters may have skill in several weapons, subject to Division limits.
WS ranges from 0 (no skill) to 20 (complete mastery) and is split into four ‘tiers’.

Basic Tier
This encompasses beginning skill levels, from no skill to enough skill to protect self from simple threats.

0. No Skill
1. Simple Self-defense

Regular Tier
This is the range of skill levels for most military professionals. It ranges from those able to defend themselves in single melee combat to those who are able to attack and defeat others.

6. Beginning Soldier
7. Soldier
8. Seasoned Soldier

Advanced Tier
This is the range of skill levels for those who have extensive military experience/training. Most elite soldiers (officers, special forces) fall in this bracket. Characters at this level are able to combat multiple foes of lesser skill with little difficulty.

11. Veteran Soldier
12. Elite Guard
13. Honour Guard

Master Tier
These skill levels are rare, and represent those who are close to complete mastery of their weapon, enabling them to defeat multiple opponents of lower skill with ease.

16. Pathmaster
17. Weaponmaster
18. Legend

Melee Weapon Guidelines

‘Basic’ WS tier is for those who are still learning basic use of a weapon. It starts at Level 0, which represents no skill, and rises to Level 5, which confers enough skill to defend yourself from simple attacks. Not everyone will start at 0 in every weapon. Most people will have 1-3 in Unarmed since most people are capable of throwing simple punches, if it makes sense for their character.

‘Regular’ WS Tier is generally for those who are capable of defending themselves in one-on-one combat with an average Westland army soldier of similar skill. A WS Level of 8 in a weapon makes you the equivalent of a typical army soldier.

‘Advanced’ WS Tier is for those who have had extensive training and/or experience with their weapon. They can typically hold off more than one Regular with little trouble. Rising to WS 13 makes you the equivalent of a typical elite unit member (think the Red Hand soldiers who acted as personal bodyguards to King Aemon).

‘Master’ WS Tier is for those for whom a weapon is not a tool, but an uninterrupted extension of their body. Masters can typically hold off more than one Advanced fighter, fight their way out of a circle of Regular fighters with ease, and completely decimate a circle of Basic fighters without breaking stride. Rising to WS 18 makes you a master of your chosen weapon, with higher ranks representing advanced mastery.

Ranged Weapon Guidelines

A WS of 0 means you have the skill of someone who has picked up the weapon for the first time, and might be able to hit a target a few feet away if you are lucky. When you reach WS 5 you will be able to make semi-accurate shots at stationary targets at half the effective range of your weapon.
When you reach a WS Level of 8 you can accurately hit a stationary human-sized target at the maximum effective range of your weapon. When you reach Level 10, you can hit the same target when it is moving slowly at a contant speed.
A WS Level of 13 allows you to accurately hit a human-sized target moving at an irregular or high velocity, at the maximum effective range of your weapon. You are also able to make indirect shots at stationary targets if you are using a weapon capable of such shots. (An indirect shot is where the projectile is launched at an angle greater than 45 degrees)

When you reach WS 15 you will be capable of more effective indirect shots, with the ability to use them against moving targets, and your accuracy with normal shots will improve, allowing you to hit specific body parts of a human-sized target moving at a high/irregular velocity.

A WS Level of 18 makes you a master of ranged attack, and you can hit targets with pinpoint accuracy at the maximum effective range of your weapon if they are stationary. You can also make indirect shots against such targets and hit a specific body part.
When you reach Level 20 (Legend) you will be capable of unerring accuracy against any target up to the maximum effective range of your weapon, being able to make a succession of shots that hit the exact same location, and of making indirect shots (if your weapon allows them) with almost the same amount of accuracy.

Weapons and Classes

Bows
· Long Bow
· Short Bow/Horse Bow
· Others
Crossbows
· Heavy Crossbow

· Light Crossbow
· Hand Crossbow
· Others
Crushing
· Club
· Mace
· Hammer
· Morningstar
· Flail
· Others
Missile
· Sling
· Dart
· Shuriken
· Others
Polearms
· Staff
· Spear
· Halberd
· Others
Light Swords
· Knife
· Short Sword
· Rapier
· Others
Heavy Swords
· Long Sword
· Bastard Sword
· Greatsword (2-handed)
· Others
Classless
· Aiel Spear [DL]
· Whip
· Unarmed [DL]
· Dual-weapon [DL]
· Others

Weapon Slots

Each character has a certain number of weapon slots. Each slot represents a single weapon.
All weapon slots must be filled with specific weapons. You must choose a specific sword to be skilled in, for example, not just be skilled in all swords.

However, you can pick up and use a weapon of the same class and use it at a lower WS. For example, if you are skilled with a scimitar you can pick up and use a longsword… but you can’t use it with as much skill as the scimitar. This is because it makes sense for you to have some skill in a weapon similar to your own, but not quite as much. [DL]
Dual-weapon styles are a special type of weapon slot which allows a character to wield two weapons simultaneously with no penalty. For information on these, contact your Division Leader.

You can also specialise in a single class, if you want to. For example, a sword trainer would be good with most swords, not just one. Contact your Division Leader if you are interested in this. [DL]
All characters get an inherent ability in Unarmed combat, as mentioned earlier. In most cases, this means you can throw a few punches, and that’s it. If you have Unarmed as a weapon though, you can have a higher skill, just as with a normal weapon. [DL]

Disputes

In all disputes over combat outcome between two characters, the following rules apply:

1)The characters attempt to come to an agreement. If this fails, they contact their Divison Leader (or appointed representative).

2)If both characters are in the same Division, the Division Leader (or app. rep) negotiates/decides the outcome.

3)If the characters are in different Divisions, the Division Leaders (or app. reps) negotiate an outcome.

4)If this fails, the official rules (this document) will be consulted to determine the exact WS of the combatants, and any external factors (occupation, injury, sensory status etc.) will be noted. If one combatant is clearly superior to the other, that one wins. If both are equal or unknown (after external factors are included) then the result is determined at random.[DL]

Conflicts of Interest

Where a Division Leader feels there is a conflict of interest, they can contact the Site Admins for assistance if they wish.

Weapons Scores for the Wolfkin

Wolfkin Ranks

Wanderer
Wolfcub
Wolfbrother

Watchers
Scout
Watcher

Trackers
Seekers
Tracker

Sages
Apprentice
Sage

Rangers
Guardian
Ranger

1st Level
1
2
3
4
5
Second Level
6
7
8
9
10
Third Level
11
12
13
14
15
Fourth Level
16
17
18
19
20

First level will be for the Wanderers only.

Second level up to 8 is for is for the Wolfcubs. 8-10 is for the Wolfbrothers and starting point for Guardians, Scouts and Sages.

Third level up to 12 is for Watchers and up to 13 is for the Trackers, Watchers and entry Level for the Rangers. 14-15 is for a Ranger who can use either the Void or the Spring. Ones who have just learnt these disciplines.

Fourth Level 16-17 is for experienced Rangers and Elders of the Kin who have been through all the weapons courses that the Rangers have done. 18-20 is for the Deputy Ranger and Ranger Leader only, anyone else will have to come up with a good case as to why they should be in that WS range.

Group leaders are special cases and would in the case of Trackers and Watchers have higher scores than normal Trackers or Watchers indicating their extra training. The Sage Leader would not necessarily be in the same class because of their extensive training in the dream.

Character Name: Seth Roses

DM Handle: Tigara

Email address: tigara@look.ca

Physical Description: Seth is a slim youth. He has shaggy brown locks that often cover his eyes. His eyes have not yet turned gold, but his bright blue eyes do seem to shine in the moonlight. His skin is of an average tan. He is about 5’11” and about 120 pounds. His taste in clothes leans heavily to green, red, and orange.

Age:

Gender: Male

Place of Birth/Raising: In the Hills north of Andor, close to the Tower of Ghenjei.

Character History:

Seth was born a Tinker. His mother gave birth to him while they were north of Andor. His father told him that when he was born, they could see a gray tower shining in the distance.  They were on their way east, to Cairhein.
He lived an average, peaceful Tinker life, singing, and playing instruments, but his favorite was dancing. His feet were light and his figure was slim. Many said that he looked like the wind itself dancing for them. He danced to fast beats, and to slower ones. Dancing was all he wanted to do, and that’s what he did for 15 years.
His caravan was heading west after touring around the Spine of the World. He started to notice that the instruments were sounding sharper and clearer. He kept asking whether the players had made new instruments, but they assured him, they were the same ones they had been using for years. It bothered him, but not as much as being able to see things in the distance that no one else seemed to be able to see. His parents thought he might be sick, so they gave him different herbal concoctions, but they didn’t affect him at all.
Things kept getting worse. He started to crave meat. He had never eaten much meat before, just what the dogs brought back occasionally. It wasn’t his favorite food. He much preferred fresh fruit. But he felt strong impulses to just grab an animal and bite into it. He was becoming afraid of himself.
It was on a cool night with a full moon, that it all fell apart. He was sleeping, and he was beside a tall metal Tower. It was huge! He walked around and saw no entrance. “Leaf Dancer” he heard. He turned around, and saw a big she wolf, with white fur mingled with gray. “Leaf dancer” he heard again, and another wolf was with her. He was going to run away, but they just sat down, and it looked like they were smiling. “Go” he heard. Were the wolves talking to him? Images filled his head. Images of stars. He didn’t really know how, but he thought that the images told him to go west. To some kind of mountains. Probably the Mountains of Mist. “Go, Leaf Dancer” the wolves nodded and then vanished.
Seth woke up in a cold sweat. The wolves were talking to him, and they wanted him to go west. He looked over, and another young man he had grown up with was staring at him. “Seth, your eyes are glowing.” Seth grabbed a mirror and stared at the blue eyes that were staring at him. He nearly screamed. “Umm, it must be a side affect from an herb. It should be gone in the morning.” He told his friend nervously. He pretended to go back to sleep, and waited for his friend to drift back to sleep as well. He got up quietly and sneaked off, running west.
 

He ran for days. Days and days. He approached the Mountains of Mist after about three weeks, and began to climb. It was a hard climb, and he was tired. He was resting with his back to a stone, when he heard footsteps. Human footsteps. Who could it be?

Character Name: Darin Saine

DM Handle: Darin Saine

Email address: hrdskn3004@yahoo.com

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Place of Birth/Raising: Amadicia – Amador

Physical Description:
Darin stands roughly five feet and seven inches tall, with his straight, ebony hair hanging to a tapered point between his shoulder blades. He has a muscular build thanks to his years in the Children of the Light, though he is certainly no blacksmith. His eyes, once a deep brown, have become a burnished gold, almost glowing in the night like a wolf’s. Other than his odd eye color, the only thing that would mark him as out of the ordinary is the confident, easy air with which he carries himself, as though he were a noble, or someone else who knew none around them could do them much harm.

Character History:

Darin was born to merchant parents, though it was only his father who did any travelling. Though his father’s punctuality and personality were what made him so well liked, it was Darin’s mother’s head for numbers and business sense that kept them all living an upstanding lifestyle, as Darin’s father liked to indulge himself in taverns on his travels. Darin himself had little to do with the business, save loading and unloading his father’s wagon when he departed and returned respectively. As such, Darin considers himself raised more by the streets of Amador than Alam or Jaya Saine, though granted with the Children of Light’s headquarters in town, those streets were nowhere near as rough as those of Caemlyn or Cairhien. His childhood was that of a normal Amadician child, playing swords with his friends; admiring the Children or the king’s men, and pestering the opposite faction (though king’s supporters got the short end of the fun stick, no one ever dared pester the Children of the Light).
When Darin was seventeen, his father decided it was time for him to come on his first trading route, as it would be his job to take over his father’s business one day, though the idea rankled at Darin. Still, enticed by a wondrous desire to see the world, to know the lands outside the walls of Amador, Darin loaded himself into his father’s cart after detaching himself from his mother’s tearful embrace, and he and his father set out for Cairhien, stopping at several small towns along the way. Darin marveled at the beautiful Ogier architecture of Caemlyn’s Inner City, and the topless towers of Cairhien, but when he and his father returned home a year later, Darin had made up his mind that he was never going to be a merchant. Having to put up with fool people complaining about your prices, as well as the ever-growing risk of bandits did not exactly appeal to the boy of eighteen. And because he was eighteen, Darin, much to the protests of his mother and father, joined the ranks of his childhood heroes, the Children of the Light.
While he had never been anything special outside the Fortress, as an Anointed of the Light, Darin excelled, taking to their philosophies with ease. His father had imbued into him discipline and punctuality already, so these things came naturally to Darin, though he nearly perfected them in the Children. He climbed the ranks quickly, and at twenty-three, he was just on the verge of being promoted to a First Lieutenant he was certain, until the Howling came upon him. He didn’t know what it was of course, but he began noticing…changes. He began hearing things that none of his men could, seeing things long before any other man possibly could have. And with all this, oh Light how he cursed it, Darin began hearing mutterings of Darkfriend among the ranks, and he was certain they were talking of him. He grew paranoid and angry at once, and these led him to do the unthinkable. He broke his oaths to the Children.
In the dead of night, Darin shed his pure white cloak, caressing the golden sunburst over the silver lightning bolt as he laid it on his cot, on top of all his other belongings save his sword, and a fresh set of civilian clothes, a sturdy pair of trousers, a red shirt with golden suns at the collar, and a knee-length, dark green coat with blue vines embroidered on the sleeve. He fled into the woods, avoiding all the sentries with ease (he had placed them himself). It wasn’t until he was away from the camp that he began hearing…them. It wasn’t hearing so much as it was seeing pictures in his mind and being aware of something outside of his own body. He traveled for days along the edge of the forests of Amadicia, sleeping on the ground more often than not, though he usually managed to stop at a village inn for a hot meal at midday.
It was on one of those stops that he truly feared for his life. The meal was received and paid for, but when Darin thanked the man, the innkeeper only stared at Darin’s eyes before throwing up a call of Darkfriend. Darin, as a former member of the Children, took a few moments to discern that he was the so-called Darkfriend in question, and flee the town. He has not been near another human being sense, hiding out deep in the forests of Amadicia, trying to figure out exactly what is happening to him….

Character Name: Medrin K’Lethwyn

DM Handle: Daegus

Email address: flitwig@gmail.com

Age: 19

Physical Description: 5’10’, 195 lbs., golden yellow eyes, black hair fashioned in the Shienaran top knot, always dressed in clothes to give him the best cover possible.

Gender: Male

Place of Birth/Raising: Shienar

Character History:

Medrin was born as the second son of a noble military family. His father was an officer in the Shienaran Infantry. His older brother had been training all of his life to follow after their father in the Infantry. Medrin, however, was fascinated with horses. He was always running after the stable and horse masters, watching and learning all that they did. His father and brother taught him all about the basics of weapon use and how to keep them in good condition. His mother hired tutors to make sure that his other academics did not suffer.

At the age of 16 he joined the military but to his father and brother’s dismay, instead of the Infantry, he joined the Calvary with his love of horses and the training he already had. He learned his place showing ability and aptitude and quickly made the rank of Sergeant. For two years he worked along the border outposts, ranging from one to another. But all that was good was not meant to last.

He started to notice things. He saw things more clearly and at a greater distance then the rest of his squad. His hearing improved… smell, taste…it all grew to sharper and higher proportions. At first he thought it was a sickness and went to the military chirurgeons for help but they could find nothing wrong. A couple of months later he started feeling brushes against his mind… thoughts that weren’t his entering in. His dreams became troubled. He was a wolf in human guise… running on hands and feet with a pack. Hunting and feasting on fresh game. During this time the men in his unit started growing distant and watched him most of the time. He knew they thought he was going mad. There were days he wondered the same.

The day it all fell apart was when he woke up and saw that his eyes had changed. No longer were they the grey of his birth but they had changed to a golden yellow. He could not hide this. He tried to keep his gaze averted but it was to no avail. When the rest of his unit saw this there was angry muttering. Finally the mutterings became open accusations. He was a darkfriend… he was shadowspawn touched by the Dark Lord himself. He was persecuted at every turn. He left the unit on horseback and fled deep into the forests. He started hearing voices. He didn’t know where they were coming from he feared he was going insane. He made a campfire deep in the forest.

During the night he had a visitor… she called herself Fireschild. At first he thought she was a darkfriend sent to torment him or another part of the madness. However, she explained to him what was going on and for the life of him he believed her. How could he not when he saw the same golden eyes he had reflected back at him in her gaze? He allowed her to take him to a settlement where there were others like them. He underwent the basic training to control and accept his new gifts and to start learning his place within the society. Through this he learned the name that the wolves had given him… Shadowstalker.

After this he was asked where in the society he wanted to be. At first he thought about being a Tracker as that was what Fireschild was. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that they needed a proper defense. A way to protect them all and that the handful of warriors they had were not enough. So he opted to train to become a Ranger, to serve and protect the Stedding as a whole. He was placed under Nightsfire for training till he was considered ready to join the ranks of the Rangers.

About 3 miles from the Stedding lies the Training Grounds and living quarters of the Rangers. Surrounded by forest, this area consists of the Barracks, storage shed, archery ground and main training area. You can find a description of each of these below.

The Barracks

The Barracks are the living quarters of the Rangers and were built by Ogier stonemasons many years ago. They do not, of course, possess the same flowing artistry which charcterises the Infirmary and Library, built as they were for strength, simplicity and utility.

Two large oak doors mark the entrance to the Barracks and, once inside, a Wolfkin is confronted with a wide hall where the Rangers and Guardians gather to eat their meals. To the right lies a doorway which leads to the kitchens. To the left, another door leads into a hallway which runs left and right with doorways opening in both directions onto rooms along the western side of the Barracks. These are the rooms where Guardians live durign their training and a small flight of stairs leads to the second floor which houses more rooms should they be required.

Finally, at the other end of the main hall, directly opposite the entrance, is a third doorway leading into the Ranger quarters. These are similar to the Guardians’ rooms but slightly larger, taking up both floors on the northern side of the building along with the top floor on the eastern side, above the kitchens. The Ranger Leader’s room is no different to the others as all men are brothers within the Barracks. When in the field, it may be quite a different story.

The Storage Shed

The storage shed is slightly smaller than the Barracks and is full of weapons, hunting gear, supplies and odd trinkets which the Rangers have picked up over the past 1000 years. It stands directly east of the Barracks, the two buildings side by side.

One particularly interesting area of the shed is at the very back where the most unique and interesting weapons are kept. These items are the individual trademarks of past Rangers. A sword with a long curved blade from the north, slim jewelled daggers from the south, a 2 and a half foot axe with a huge double-bitted blade, short spears from somewhere in the east, a 6 foot long broadsword with a cross tee hilt… the list is endless. These weapons are taken down only for cleaning and sharpening, hung at the back door in honour of those great Rangers who lived and fought in past times.

The Archery Range

The range is little more than a number of targets arrayed at varying distances west of the Barracks.

The Training Ground

A wide area of beaten dirt just south of the Barracks marks the Rangers’ Training Ground. It is surrounded by pells, 6 foot high wooden posts, wrapped in burlap to minimise wear and tear on both sword and sword arm. Students and veterans alike may practice stances and attacks, either individually against the pells or one-on-one in the centre of the Grounds or in a group.

The Marshland

To the west of the Barracks, the land gradually becomes muddy wetlands with dense brush in which to hide. This area is often used for large scale training exercises.

The Cave

West of the Lake and south-west of the marshes, one can find a few waterfalls and streams running down from the western reaches. One waterfall, the largest in the area, conceals a small crevasse. Inside, a long passage delves deep into the mountain and emerges in a large underground chamber. Torches are mounted all along the passage and round the chamber, driven into the solid rock face. This cave is where new Rangers are invested and it also offers a place of solitude for the Ranger Leader to escape to in times of need.

Character Name: Raithgar Urion

DM Handle: Kura

Email address: shadowfreak0000@yahoo.com

Age: 17

Gender: M

Place of Birth/Raising: Shienar

Physical Description: A silk black top knot adorns his head, the rest shaved. He is moderately tall, standing at 5′11. Like most of his countrymen, he has the shoulders of a blacksmith. His face is riddled with scars, white marring his sun-darkened complexion. He wears a heavy full, plate, with a katana strapped to his back. His eyes once dark, are quickly taking on a yellow tint.

Personality: Practical and polite. He tends to put a sugar coating on things, but doesn’t hide the truth. He is accepting of his new ability, taking it as another way to fulfill his duty to fight the shadow. Of course, this is after he will have had it for a while.

Character History:

Raithgar is what most of his countrymen are, solders. Trained to fight the shadow from a young age, he has never known much not related to the subject. One of those abilities, is to survive in the wilderness surrounding his homeland. Which is where his story truly begins. It was after a day of training in the forest, him and his father resting by an open fire, Raithgar eagerly listening to the stories of the blight from the grizzled veteran. He held up a scared hand, pointing to the socket where his left eye used to dwell, “Yeah boy, that bloody half-man tried to run me through, straight through the skull, but only managed to take this instead. I got him though, one fell swoop and lopped off his head. I waited till nightfall, watching the bastard who took my eye die.” They both shared a laugh at that, perhaps it wasn’t a pleasant thing to laugh at, but little near the blight was. Blistering cold, trollocs, fades, and the ever creeping blight itself.

The two men heard wolves howling, a good sign. Trollocs avoided wolves when they could. The howl sounded again, an answering closer. And again, and again. Both men eased their blades in their sheaths, wisdom taught caution. Raithgar saw a splash of white on the edge of the firelight. He was stunned, wolves avoided humans. “They are getting bold, father.” He watched the old man nod, “A bad sign. Boldness implies desperation, and in both men and wolves that is a very bad thing.” Raithgar sighed; he would not know the peace of sleep this night.

He did not assume the void quite yet, instead hoping that the wolves would simply leave. To his surprise, they did. “I think they are leaving us.” His father gave him a quizzical look, “What makes you say that?” His son shrugged, an odd movement fully armored, “I just know.” Raithgar’s father looked at his son with an intense scrutiny, but nodded his acceptance, and again sitting by the fire. “Alright, if you say so kid.” Raithgar soon followed suit. “I’ll take first watch, god knows you old-timers need your sleep, and don’t like to get up in the morning.” Raithgar and his father shared another chuckle, before the old man laid down to sleep, his breathing quickly becoming rhythmic.

The wolves appeared again, and again he eased his sword, not yet bothering to wake his father. They seemed to draw near, and then fall back as he told them to in his mind. Each time he was sure that they had left. Concern was prominent in his mind, would they attack? He somehow knew they wouldn’t, and that scared him more than the thought of fighting them did. He stayed on guard all night, only kicking his father awake when the sun rose over the horizon. “Get up; we should head back to the city.” The old man blinked sleep from his eyes, staring at the sun. “Alright kid.” He didn’t question why his son didn’t wake him, or why the sudden inclination to go home to Fal Maron. He never did, a man had his reasons.

They were returning from a trip to Saldea, and the journey took a good while. Raithgar never again took the full night’s watch, but he did come close on more than one occasion. Each night the wolves coming to his camp, and each night his awareness of them grew a fraction. On the final night, his dad took first watch. A wolf appeared in his dreams, something he didn’t think odd in the least. It was simply laying there lazily, but when he awoke he realized it and was shaken. Unable to get back to sleep, he took over the watch.

He saw the concern in his father’s eye, which quickly grew into shock. “Boy, you sick? You look to be getting a bit of yellow in your eye.” Raithgar’s eyes grew wide; wolves had yellow eyes. “Uh… yeah. I’m alright, get to sleep, your eyes are already playing tricks on you.” The old man nodded, and went to sleep after a while of worrying about his son. The worrying of his father, was nothing compared to that of the son, who looked into the darkness, hardly hindered in the faint light. Light, what’s happening to me? A wolf appeared, and he got an image in his mind.

You are a brother to us. Now, go seek another with our eyes, he will meet you South, away from your two-legged lands. Raithgar back peddled, nearly tripping into the fire, and the wolf disappeared.

The next morning, he waited for his father to awaken. When the old man did finally roll out of his blankets, his son was quick to speak. “I’ve got to go south. You head back to the city, and don’t worry. You’ve trained me to use these well enough,” he gripped the hilt on his back. Raithgar’s father looked into his son’s yellow eyes, “What’s happening to you kid? That yellow got sharper since yesterday,” the old man reached for his own sword, and his son’s yellow eyes narrowed.

“Do you really believe me a darkfriend? Or some new form of shadowspawn?” That stopped his dad in his tracks,

“I.. No. No I don’t.”

The veteran of hundreds of blight campaigns hardened as he continued to speak, more conviction. “Then, just go back to Fal Moran, father. I’ll be alright.”

His father sighed, and quickly donned his armor. “I’ll see you then, son.” They shared another moment together, saying good-byes, before they headed off in opposite directions.

A few miles south, a man appeared, his hood thrown back despite their distance to the city. Raithgar’s sword already bared three inches, before he noticed yellow eyes. The man spoke in clipped tones, but his accent was of Shienar. “I’ll be taking you South, to the old stedding. There you will learn to wield you new found abilities.” With that, he turned, heading South. When they camped, Raithgar tried to get some information. What was he? What could he do? Had the shadow touched him? He was told that he was a wolfbrother, and that no, the shadow had not touched him, and that his teachers would tell him the rest.”

After an eternity of traveling, they finally reached the Mountains of Mist, and the Stedding nearby. He eagerly awaited the answers to all of his questions, and more. He needed answers, and more than his yellow-eyed escort would provide.

Character Name: Orrin al’Cairdarei

DM Handle: spec_op_soldier

Email address: Michael.quinn3@us.army.mil

Age: 19; sword age 5

Gender: Male

Place of Birth/Raising: Shienar

Physical Description: 6’ 2”, 205 lbs, steel blue eyes, brown hair. Orrin is tall with a trim muscular build. He had the blue eyes and waist length brown hair held back by a Hadori typical of those with Malkier ancestry, at least among those who remember the traditions.

Character History:

Orrin is the second eldest of three brothers. His grandfather settled in Shienar after ferrying the infant king of Malkier to safety. Orrin’s father was the youngest of all his siblings and the only one not old enough to fight and die against the shadow when the Seven Towers were destroyed. Being raised without a mother hardened Orrin’s father, a hardness which despite Orrin having a wonderful mother was passed down to him. Orrin and his 3 brothers were sworn by there mother to fight the shadow. To this end they were trained in the use of weapons before they knew what death was.

Since the age of 8 Orrin’s grandfather would take him through the woods to a clearing far from any man-made distractions. When there his grandfather would have him lay aside all there weapons and begin moving through different poses. Despite the fact that the movements were very slow, by the end Orrin was always sweating and his muscles were always fatiged.

At the age of 12 Orrin was allowed to join the older boys on the roofs of houses to let fly arrows when the Trolloc raids came. At the age of 17 his father first took him into the edges of the Blight and began instucting him on the dangers one will experience there. The day after returning from a trip into the Blight his family was shocked when he woke up with eyes not hard blue as usual, but tinted yellow.

Orrin began to be able to see better than everyone else and hear better too. Then he began to notice that everyone around smelled and he could tell who was around with his eyes closed just by using his nose.

One night as Orrin’s family was settling in the den after a delicious dinner, Orrin had a vision flash in his mind of trollocs and fades. Shaking it off he continued to read his book. Then the vision came again, longer and more intense. When his mother asked what was the matter he said that he just needed some fresh air. When he stepped outside he had another vision, this time it was so strong, mixed with the fact that he could now smell trollocs on the wind whipping in his face, he mistook the vision for reality and as loud as he could warned that a trolloc raid was upon them. His father and brothers ran and grabbed there weapons as well as his. He sprinted toward the warning bell in the center of village yelling his warning the whole way. His younger brother met him at the bell as he was ringing it handing him his short sword which he belted around his waist as well as his spear and buckler. When it was obvious that all the men of the village were out and ready to fight Orrin stopped ringing the bell and ran back to his families house just outside of town. The quiet of the night seemed unearthly after the tolling of the bell stopped, broken only by the muttered questions of those who had expected to be met at their doorsteps by trollocs. When Orrin arrived back at his house he saw his grandfather and youngest brother guarding the front and back doors. His other brother and father where outside the house watching for any sign of attack. Orrin was confused, he could have sworn that the trollocs where on top of the village when he started sounding the alarm, he hadn’t even been sure he was going to make it to the bell in the center of town before they struck. The sent of the trollocs was even stronger now and he turned toward the house and let his family know, none of them could smell anything. Orrin heard a noise behind him and spun around. Then he saw the trollocs he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to if not for the torches that someone had lit. No one should be lighting torches now, but Orrin had more important thing occupying his thoughts. Orrin hurled his spear at the nearest twisted one drawing his sword before his spear tore through the twisted one’s head. The twisted one’s companions roared in anger and exitement knowing that the time for battle had come.

After the trollocs had set fire to one of the barns and had tired of seeing their numbers dwindle, they turnedd tail and ran back into the darkness. As Orrin was about to persue them alone his brother grabbed him by the arm and told him that his gandfather was dying. At those words it was as if Orrin was shaken out of a dream, a dream where he hunted twisted ones. He ran to his home and saw his grandfather lying on the rug in the family room with the thick black shaft of a trolloc arrow through his chest. As Orrin watched his grandfather take his last breaths, his eyes began to blaze a bright gold as if they were light itself, his family was scarred as he began a low gutteral growl that became louder and seemed to stretch on for hours. When his grandfather’s eyes went blank with death, Orrin howled. Then with death in those bright eyes and hatred so plain on his face that it caught even his own family off guard and left them silent and still, Orrin grabbed the golden headed spear that lay by his grandfather’s side and ran out into the night. He knew that direction the twisted ones had gone and he could smell them.

Character Name: Lianrin al’Emerie

DM Handle: Sorandha

Age: 19

Gender: Female

Place of Birth/Raising: Andor

Physical Description: About 5 feet 4 inches tall, she has grown into her womanhood with a kind of wild look to her. She’s not fat, but with curves in all the right places and a good hourglass figure. Being raised on a farm, her hands are deft with long beautiful but hard working hands. Her hair is a mass of black curls that seems to have a mind of its own ending just below her shoulders. Although she usually puts it up in a bun, errant curls will escape and create a very haphazard look. Her bangs are overly long and fall over her left eye and frequently irritate her. Her sharp green eyes are one of her favorite features, with a stare that can put any of her four brothers in their place.

Personality: She’s a no nonsense type of girl. Being the eldest, she and her mother often band together to keep the five men in the household working. She was raised to be a good housewife and thus she is rather quiet in her demeanor unless the situation calls for a firm hand.

Character History:

Bounding through the forest, the wind whistling in her ears, Lia ran for all she was worth. The scents and sounds of the forest bombarded her, but there was only one that she cared about. The trees and foliage passed by with disturbing clarity despite her speed, and then she spotted it. The rabbit broke cover and shot forward into the distance. Reaching so far with her claws, Lia felt that if she could run any faster, she would surely sprout wings and fly.

A part of her felt as well as heard others behind her; curious as to where she was going. Seconds stretched forever but the chase was surprisingly short as she planted her claws onto the rabbit and brought her jaws down on its neck. Never would she feel the same exhilaration as the moment of warm fresh meat bursting into her throat. She relished her prey.

A low growl emanated from beside her and she froze, lifting her head slowly to behold a huge black wolf before her, his lips peeled back in a dangerous snarl. Her brain became confused as images flashed in her minds eye, but she couldnft understand them. And before she could stop herself, she was challenging the wolf. It was her rabbit, she had earned her meal. A growl came from inside her, startling her to her core. What creature was she?

Too young, the words reverberated in her brain. Not so much words, but feelings. Like a parent having found their child outside the crib. Confusion rang through her again. Wait, I’m a human! she cried within her own mind.

The wolf lunged for her, his gaping maw open to mangle her.

Lianrin sat up straight in bed, gasping for breath. It took her a moment to realize that she had a hand to her throat, and pulled it away. And then she noticed the taste of blood in her mouth.

Leaping to the bedside table with a bowl of water for washing her face, she stared into the mirror and bared her teeth at herself and nearly gagged to find that indeed her tongue and teeth were covered in blood, and even a little down her chin. She washed her face frantically in a half panic, her mind whirling as she washed her mouth out twice.

She stuck her finger into her mouth, checking for a bitten cheek, tongue, or a missing tooth. The horror of the possibility of loosing a tooth made her shudder. Finding no problem, she finally noticed how bright it was in her room; close to midday. She would have to hurry if all her chores were to get done before the day was through. She picked up her hairbrush and looked once again into the mirror.

A pair of burnished gold eyes flashed back at her from under her ebony bangs. She screamed and threw herself away from the mirror. She heard footsteps coming toward her room.

A loud knock came from her door and her brother Dayn stuck his head into the room.

 ”So you’fre finally up. Are you going to help Mother prepare supper, or continue to make weird noises in your room all day?”

The hairbrush made a loud bang as it hit the door. “I’m in my shift you pervert! Close the bloody door!”

“Such language from a lady!” Dayn closed the door behind him and she heard him laughing all the way back down the stairs.

Life was never the same for Lia after that first dream. Every night she had another dream similar to the first, each ending with the same black wolf appearing before her and telling her she was too young; for what she didn’t know. She caught glances of her family members looking at her oddly when they thought she wasn’t looking, and she could always tell when one of them was coming near her.

Life on a farm had always been smelly, but she was noticing it more and more with each day, and things she never would have noticed before. Her brothers didn’t smell any differently than her father after shearing the sheep, but now she could tell when Dayn was trying to sneak up on her or when Jolal was bringing her a cup of water in the fields.

Lia was washing the evening meal’s dishes when she could hear and smell her mother coming up behind her. She shifted over so that her mother could help washing, but she just paused and gave Lia another one of those stares.

“Lia, could I talk to you, um..privately, sweetheart?”

 ”Sure Mom, as soon as the dishes are done.”

“No, Lia. I mean now.” Her voice left no room for argument.

They silently went out to the stable where the four cows and two horses they owned were kept, Lia’s nose wrinkled a bit at the stench but then she turned to her mother with questioning eyes.

Her mother looked into Lia’s eyes, but only for a moment; she quickly stared at the ground and folded her arms beneath her chest.

“There have been quite a few changes in you, Lia. The whole family is concerned.”

Lia attempted to smile reassuringly and raised a hand to touch her mother’s shoulder, but her mother jerked away.

“I think you should go to Emond’s Field, Lia.” She blurted. “You’re old enough now to be on your own and well passed the age to find yourself a husband.”

Lia’s eyes filled with hurt. “Mother, what about all the arrangements we made for me to marry into a nearby farm? I thought-”

“Well those changes-I mean… Those plans have changed.”  She put her arms down to her sides stubbornly and forced herself to stare directly into her daughter’s eyes. “Your brothers have agreed to help you prepare Deela for your departure so you can go tomorrow.”

“Mother, I’m not going to take our only mare and run off into the rest of my life. I want to-”

Her mother turned on her heel and simply walked off back to the house. Tears spilled down Lia’s eyes and she couldn’t hold it in. She let loose a howl of sadness at her mother’s back.

The sun had set by the time Lia was done crying, but she could still see as clearly as though it were mid afternoon. She cursed herself for whatever it was that was happening to her, and fled the noises and smells of the farm. Running for the most part with her eyes closed, when she finally stopped before breath she realized that she had entered the woods. With one final look back to her home, her heart made the decision. She could never bear to see whether her family was happy to see her leave with her evil eyes and powers. She continued into the darkness of the forest.

Lia never really had an idea of where her family’s farm was exactly, only that a few times each spring and summer the whole family piled into the wagon with wool and fabric and produce to sell in Emond’s Field, which was a two days journey away to the west. Using the stars as a guide, she picked out the direction she thought was west and made sure that she could see the road from where she was walking.

Hours later, she collapsed beside a tree from exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep. At least, deep until the burlap sack was pulled over it.

She screamed and kicked but her fists and feet only found air as a pair of hands lifted her by the back of her dress and planted her none too gently over a horses back, and with the horn of the saddle pressing into her hip, she felt the horse move under her.  She wiggled a bit, hopping to perhaps slide off the horse, and was suddenly knocked unconscious over the back of the head.

When she finally came too, her head was pounding and she thought she could smell blood inside the sack, but not much. If theyfd hit her any harder, they may have killed her on the spot. She was lying on the floor with her hands tied behind her back but her ankles were free. From the dirt under her fingertips she could at least tell that they were still in the forest, and she didn’t think she had been out long because she heard snoring very close to her. She concentrated, and thought that there might be three, maybe four people holding her captive.

She felt along the cord holding her hands tight, and grinned to herself when she found that whoever tied it had been foolish enough to leave the knot where she could get to it. Working it free with her fingertips, and cursing in her mind a few times as her fingers got tangled, she felt the cord slacken to the point where her right hand could slide through.

She quickly reached up and removed the sack from her head and paused when she saw the camp. Yes, there were four men sleeping around a very small fire, but there were two staring straight at her, and one of them had a knife out.

Leaping to her feet, she heard a sickening thunk as the knife went deep into the tree where she had just been, and Lia ran as fast as her legs could carry her.

Shouts rang out from the camp of bandits as they woke their companions and made chase. Lia praised the Light for being able to see in such darkness as she bounded over tree roots and continued to put as much space between her and the bandits.

Pain seared her as an arrow took her in the back of her right shoulder, the force of it turning her to the side as another arrow skimmed across her throat. Her eyes widened as she clasped a hand to the heavily bleeding wound that would have killed her instantly had she not turned.

She coughed and sputtered but thankfully could still breathe as she pushed herself forward. More arrows thunked into the ground and trees around her, but thankfully none found their way into her flesh. Her strength waning, she felt more and more frantic.

Please, someone, anyone, help me!  Her foot caught on a high branch and she flew through the air before falling on her face and sliding along the forest floor. A cacophony of images flashed through her mind and she heard wolves howling very close by. The sounds of the bandits were coming closer, and as darkness threatened to swallow her, she saw a blurry silhouette in the distance.

And then the world turned black.