Vengeance of a Ranger
Chapter 2:A desecration of life
I can feel them moving through the forest towards the settlements. It is not the invaders that I sense; it is the forests discomfort with their presence. I have tried to gain a clearer impression of these intruders but my affinity with all life in this forest fails. They may well be the perversions of life more commonly known as the Undead. The animals I encourage to scout for me flee before they can gain a clear view of what I am facing. Before the sun rises I will leave my lair and conduct my own investigation concerning these intruders. Regardless of my own desires, I must protect the innocent settlers of this forest.
My course of action was easily determined when one of my watchers heard screams from one of the northern settlements shortly after nightfall. Even without my Elven heritage I would still be able to move quickly through the darkened forest, such is my familiarity with my home. I could feel the unease of the forest as I approached the settlement; the absence of life was disturbing the trees. Distracted by their discomfort, I barely noticed the shattered remains of the boundary fence until I was almost upon them. I began to fear for the lives of my wards, aware that I may already be too late to protect them. Using my skill as a hunter, I carefully approach the nearest stable only to be confronted by a broadsword wielding skeletal warrior. The warrior notices my approach as I draw my dual katanas and dodge his first, wild strike. I can feel his inhuman strength just from the passing blade. Until this moment, my tenure as guardian of this forest has been fairly peaceful, the only exception being the bandit raids last summer. I can feel my rage mounting when I think of the innocent settlers that I was supposed to protect. The monster swings it's blade in a bold attempt to decapitate me but I duck and use one of my own blades to divert his attack, intending to follow through with my other blade and finish this quickly. Imagine my shock and horror at seeing my blade shatter under the strength of the blow and the despair that rose when my spare blade struck home only to leave my foe unscathed. My blow should have cut through the warriors shoulder, leaving it at a disadvantage. With my attack proving ineffective, I find myself placed at a distinct disadvantage. Reduced to one blade against a stronger opponent I am forced to rely upon my speed and agility if I am to escape with my life. I revert to wielding my katana two handed, a method I have not favoured for many seasons, in an attempt to put more force behind my blows. Still my foe tries to press his advantage and force me to make a fatal error. I back pedal, leaving an opening in a desperate attempt to end this now. Relief floods through me when my foe swings high, only to find me rolling beneath his guard. His blade connecting with nothing more than thin air whilst my blade connects cleanly with the back of his knee, dropping him to a more vulnerable position. I reverse the swing of my blade, severing my foe's head from his skeletal neck. It seems that desperation can provide opportunities that a sane being would never consider.
As I turn from my fallen opponent, I realise that I'm not alone. A dozen zombies are slowly approaching, followed by a lone, robed figure. One by one the zombies attack me and one by one they return to death by strokes of my blade. I relish in the fact that I can harm these opponents with far greater ease than the skeletal warrior, but I find myself longing for my second blade, which now lies shattered in the dust. Five zombies have fallen to my blade when I begin to tire without warning. The lone figure has revealed himself to be a mage by casting a ray of enfeeblement upon me. Still I battle on against the remaining seven zombies, regardless of the spell caster's attempts to aid my foes. I skewer the throat of the first zombie who looks to press this advantage and kick out against a second who was looking to flank me. I spin as I withdraw my blade from the recently disposed zombie and remove the head of the would-be flanker. I roll forward to avoid an attack from behind, lashing out as I return to my feet. Another desperate manoeuvre which pays off as I watch two more zombies fall by my blade. The odds in this encounter are slowly beginning to equalize as there are only three zombies left for me to face. Seemingly unbidden, the last three zombies attack in a headlong charge, hoping to overwhelm my defences. The first tries to disarm me, only to find my katana slicing through his midriff. The second and third staggered their attacks, planning to create a hole in my defence. I may not count myself amongst the most proficient warriors of the Realms, but I am able to wield my blade well enough to defeat this tactic. A sidelong dash as my foes collide leaves me an ample opening to defeat them and face the mage. A simple tactic to overcome two foes leaves both zombies returning to the land of the dead.
Turning once again, I stand to face the robed figure. He surveys his fallen troops and lowers his hood to reveal the truth of what he is, I cannot prevent the gasp that escapes my lips. "What place does a Drow have amongst a group of Undead upon the surface?" "Whatever place he chooses, but tell me tu'rilthiir, why do you defend these woods?" is his reply, spitting the word tu'rilthiir as if it is an insult. "I defend those who cannot defend themselves from the evil of this world, evils such as the Drow!" "Ah, one who follows a noble path. Tell me defender, who will protect you?" His words warn me of his intent to strike. I raise my lone blade in defiance and defence. "I do what I must, regardless of the cost" "So be it, defender. Iirith of House Arabani shall show you the cost of defiance"
With these words, darkness claims me as pain consumes my very existence.
(A.N. a bit shorter than I'd planned, but more action based. "tu'rilthiir" means Half-Elf. Thanks to my reviewers as well, I can only hope to meet you expectations)
Chapter 2:A desecration of life
I can feel them moving through the forest towards the settlements. It is not the invaders that I sense; it is the forests discomfort with their presence. I have tried to gain a clearer impression of these intruders but my affinity with all life in this forest fails. They may well be the perversions of life more commonly known as the Undead. The animals I encourage to scout for me flee before they can gain a clear view of what I am facing. Before the sun rises I will leave my lair and conduct my own investigation concerning these intruders. Regardless of my own desires, I must protect the innocent settlers of this forest.
My course of action was easily determined when one of my watchers heard screams from one of the northern settlements shortly after nightfall. Even without my Elven heritage I would still be able to move quickly through the darkened forest, such is my familiarity with my home. I could feel the unease of the forest as I approached the settlement; the absence of life was disturbing the trees. Distracted by their discomfort, I barely noticed the shattered remains of the boundary fence until I was almost upon them. I began to fear for the lives of my wards, aware that I may already be too late to protect them. Using my skill as a hunter, I carefully approach the nearest stable only to be confronted by a broadsword wielding skeletal warrior. The warrior notices my approach as I draw my dual katanas and dodge his first, wild strike. I can feel his inhuman strength just from the passing blade. Until this moment, my tenure as guardian of this forest has been fairly peaceful, the only exception being the bandit raids last summer. I can feel my rage mounting when I think of the innocent settlers that I was supposed to protect. The monster swings it's blade in a bold attempt to decapitate me but I duck and use one of my own blades to divert his attack, intending to follow through with my other blade and finish this quickly. Imagine my shock and horror at seeing my blade shatter under the strength of the blow and the despair that rose when my spare blade struck home only to leave my foe unscathed. My blow should have cut through the warriors shoulder, leaving it at a disadvantage. With my attack proving ineffective, I find myself placed at a distinct disadvantage. Reduced to one blade against a stronger opponent I am forced to rely upon my speed and agility if I am to escape with my life. I revert to wielding my katana two handed, a method I have not favoured for many seasons, in an attempt to put more force behind my blows. Still my foe tries to press his advantage and force me to make a fatal error. I back pedal, leaving an opening in a desperate attempt to end this now. Relief floods through me when my foe swings high, only to find me rolling beneath his guard. His blade connecting with nothing more than thin air whilst my blade connects cleanly with the back of his knee, dropping him to a more vulnerable position. I reverse the swing of my blade, severing my foe's head from his skeletal neck. It seems that desperation can provide opportunities that a sane being would never consider.
As I turn from my fallen opponent, I realise that I'm not alone. A dozen zombies are slowly approaching, followed by a lone, robed figure. One by one the zombies attack me and one by one they return to death by strokes of my blade. I relish in the fact that I can harm these opponents with far greater ease than the skeletal warrior, but I find myself longing for my second blade, which now lies shattered in the dust. Five zombies have fallen to my blade when I begin to tire without warning. The lone figure has revealed himself to be a mage by casting a ray of enfeeblement upon me. Still I battle on against the remaining seven zombies, regardless of the spell caster's attempts to aid my foes. I skewer the throat of the first zombie who looks to press this advantage and kick out against a second who was looking to flank me. I spin as I withdraw my blade from the recently disposed zombie and remove the head of the would-be flanker. I roll forward to avoid an attack from behind, lashing out as I return to my feet. Another desperate manoeuvre which pays off as I watch two more zombies fall by my blade. The odds in this encounter are slowly beginning to equalize as there are only three zombies left for me to face. Seemingly unbidden, the last three zombies attack in a headlong charge, hoping to overwhelm my defences. The first tries to disarm me, only to find my katana slicing through his midriff. The second and third staggered their attacks, planning to create a hole in my defence. I may not count myself amongst the most proficient warriors of the Realms, but I am able to wield my blade well enough to defeat this tactic. A sidelong dash as my foes collide leaves me an ample opening to defeat them and face the mage. A simple tactic to overcome two foes leaves both zombies returning to the land of the dead.
Turning once again, I stand to face the robed figure. He surveys his fallen troops and lowers his hood to reveal the truth of what he is, I cannot prevent the gasp that escapes my lips. "What place does a Drow have amongst a group of Undead upon the surface?" "Whatever place he chooses, but tell me tu'rilthiir, why do you defend these woods?" is his reply, spitting the word tu'rilthiir as if it is an insult. "I defend those who cannot defend themselves from the evil of this world, evils such as the Drow!" "Ah, one who follows a noble path. Tell me defender, who will protect you?" His words warn me of his intent to strike. I raise my lone blade in defiance and defence. "I do what I must, regardless of the cost" "So be it, defender. Iirith of House Arabani shall show you the cost of defiance"
With these words, darkness claims me as pain consumes my very existence.
(A.N. a bit shorter than I'd planned, but more action based. "tu'rilthiir" means Half-Elf. Thanks to my reviewers as well, I can only hope to meet you expectations)