The Silver Arrow
Prologue
Ominous clouds covered the skies like a thick, black blanket of despair. The villagers of Haberforth gloomily walked through the streets, buying, selling, walking idly, and talking amongst friends. However, when the first drop of rain fell on a female villager's nose, everyone rushed for their houses. Rain was terrible in Haberforth—people had to flee for their lives. Creatures would come out of nowhere and attack their crops and livestock; they would break into the bars and steal the mead along with meat and grains. What the villagers didn't know was, these were not creatures—merely wizards whom have transformed themselves into the misshapen shape of a bird. However, the creatures would not penetrate the warm home of a villager; too much blood has been spilt by the war and no more shall scar the ground.
The war had been going on for thousands of years, but no one has thought so much as to stop it. It was out of their hands and they could do nothing about it—nothing at all. By now, everyone was desperate; warriors of the war would come through villages and tear them down in search of guns, gun powder, food, clothes, and sleeping bags. They have yet to come to Haberforth, which was in the southeastern part of Malisea. The troops were far away from the cozy little village that had always been safe—until the Ragnok arrived. These were the half-bird, half-men that would rob the villagers of their goods.
"We need to stop the Ragnok!" a man exclaimed at a board meeting after the rain had passed. "We cannot afford them to take any more of our goods! We are low as it is."
"And what do you proclaim, Ander? We have pitchforks, they have talons. We have torches, they have beaks. Tell me, Ander, how do you defeat the undefeated?" another man, whose voice was quite low, snarled.
"Turam, I am sure you know that they are only undefeated because we have not challenged them. Are you too much of a coward to fight for your wife—your children?" Ander had struck low between the knees. Family was too important in Haberforth; having a wife meant you were successful in life and having children meant you were above extraordinary.
"Ander is right, Turam. We must fight for our wives and our children! The future of Haberforth is in their hands. Without a proper supply of food, they would starve and without a proper supply of clothes, they would freeze. We must attack them before it is too late!" a man named Urio exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table for emphasis.
"And who, might you suggest, would take the role as to kill the Ragnok?" Turam growled. "Certainly, our families cannot prosper if our wives are widows." Argument broke upon the men. Some of them slammed their fists on the table, and some shouted verbal threats that were backed up with a punch to the wall or a pointing finger and a death glare.
"Gentlemen, calm down. Shouldn't we act as if we were civilized?" A calm, gentle voice came from the door, which now stood ajar, the cold winter air seeping into the warm shelter. The voice could have been feminine, but it was way too deep. Although, it was as reassuring as the crackle of fire on a snowy day.
"Oi! Who are you?" a man called from the far end of the table. The hooded man merely grinned maliciously.
"Adier, hmm? Well, Adier, I am the one feared race in this country. I am a Night Elf, master of magic and the master of the bow. You will have respect for me, sir, as you will have towards Ralf, the King of Malisea himself." The man—elf—took off his hood to show his bright gold hair and his sparkling emerald green eyes. His face was flawless, the features matching his dark, elfish skin. His ears started normal at the bottom, finely shaped, but at the top, it was like the point of a spear. "My name is Marlo, the Great, and I have come to help your village."