Is this thing on? Yeah, okay. Let's see, where should I begin? My name? Yeah, there we go. Okay, I'm Tatuana Estelle, a half-elf who is currently not dying, very surprising, in the zombie apocalypse. However, this story is not my story, this story is about a high-elf named Arcadia Noric, my only true friend. Here we go.
The muffled sounds a leaves crunching beneath the boots and a young-looking women, her long light brown hair tied up in a messy braid bouncing up and down as it hits her back. Her face smeared with dirt and other residue from the forest darkening her pale complexion, her ears were pointed, a tell tale sign of elven blood,
The women slowed as she approached a vibrant green bush, it's leaves looked a lot like holly leaves, waxy and prickly. Gently, she removed the so-called bush to reveal a decaying body. Most of it's features were gone with age but it was apparent it was female and suffered from blunt damage to the skull, based on the dents just above the ear. That's about all someone could tell from the body.
As the elf quickly whipped her head from side-to-side, just to be certain no one followed her here, she undid her hair, letting the messy brown hair fall. She combed a part of her hair near her face and as she reached for a knife. Swiftly, she cut a lock of her hair off. Then she dug through a small satchel, retrieving a piece of yellowed parchment. She unrolled the parchment, a note written in scrawny letters as if it was hurriedly written. Her green eyes scanned the note before a sly smile formed from the corners of her thin lips. Once again she took the knife and placed the blade on her hand. She raced the blade against her hand, drawing blood from the wound. She decorated the note with her blood and when she finished, wrapped up the wound. Her note was almost done. She took her locks of hair and placed it in the center of the parchment before rewrapping it back. She stuffed the note on the decaying body's arm.
Her plan was nearly finished. She took a deep breath and started to unbutton her jacket. As she unbuttoned the finish one, she slid off the jacket and set it on her lap. She looked the various pins spewed about as she started to take one off. She held the pin in her hand, three stars, a commander's pin. She reached for the jacket on the corpse and secured the pin on it's own jacket before returning to her own. Next, she removed a longer pin made from carved wood with metal smelted among the edges. As she flipped the pin over in her hand, her eyes looked at the letters that read out Arcadia Noric. It was a name tag, her name tag that she's worn since her joining of the military. Her eye hinted of remorse as she pinned the name tag on the corpse. She had given this corpse her name, her own name: the only thing left that she actually owned and just gave it away so willingly to something that won't use it.
Arcadia finished dressing the corpse, it was at least a convincing doppelgänger, just enough to buy her enough time to make a new life for herself, possibly more. For all she knew, they would be completely convinced it was her and just leave it at that. Though she knew that would be wishful thinking, the High-Elf Legion, her military force, is always thorough on their autopsies, something she'd witnessed many times from watching her own men get their examination.
Rustling from behind her broke her train of thought as she quickly rose from her spot, her jacket fell in her hand. It was silent for a few seconds and Arcadia thought it could've been an animal or even just the wind. However, that unmistakable sound of groans broke the silence. She had lingered too long and she looked back at the corpse and kicked the holly leaves, although very messily, back on before sprinting away from the scene.
Author's Note
Hey guys, this is my first story in well, awhile. This is just the prologue of a, hopefully, long story about an alternate version of a few of me and my friend's D&D characters. Hoping for some constructive criticism and most of all, I hope you enjoy!