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“…The kingdoms if the east are a land not at all unknown to me. My entire life has been based around travel – never looking back upon where I’ve been, or where I come from. Sometimes I feel like I’m running, not just from my enemies, but also from my though there is something apart of me I do not know of yet. Archanine, my dear friend and only companion, has been with me ever since I was exiled from my home, almost 9 years ago. Why I was exiled, is still, as of yet, unknown to me. Yet, whenever I think back on my past - or try to – I get the feeling of something more powerful than myself growing within me. I guess it is something I will have to learn about in due time. Until then, I remain Archerion Fellonar and nothing more...”


From the journal of Archerion Fellonar

1: The Trails of Senscitar

The trails through the quiet forests of the west lie in the morning with a small topping of frost, signifying winter’s approach. With Archanine at his side, Archerion continued his travels through the dense forests of Senscitar, his bow tucked into his quiver of hand-crafted arrows strapped firmly in his back.
With the brown hood of his cloak draped over his face, people often mistook him for a bandit. There have been multiple cases of townsfolk calling the authorities upon him for his suspicious behavior and looks. Yet, by time the authorities get to the area in which he was, he was already gone from sight…vanishing without a trace as though he were only in one’s imagination.
Archanine, his panther friend and companion, had also been mistaken for fair game by both hunters and poachers, only to find the marksman’s arrow flying only inches from their ear. Although Archanine is capable of caring for himself, as is Archerion, they rely on each other and fight together as a team, which they were – and a fine one, at that. Archanine, with his razor-like claws, distracted the enemy while Archerion hides within the shadows and barrages the enemy with arrows.
Their travels have taken them far across the continent, through the countries of Zen’ Kallin, Sak’ Fensha, and even the capital city of Varon. Many have challenged their rights as companions and have fallen, never able to back up their remarks.

The day quickly turned into night as the marksman and his companion grew slightly fatigued. His respect for the forest and its beauty was too great to take anything from the trees directly. He took whatever wood was big and dry enough to use and brought them back to their small encampment on the outskirts of the trail. When he returned with the lumber, he saw Archanine lying in the clearing calmly and faithfully.
Thanks to a stone and his arrow tip, the fire was started. Archerion sat there with his arm around Archanine, who was lying next to him purring a small bit, and gazed into the heart of the fire and it appeared at times, as though the fire was returning with a gaze of its own.
As the fire died to a smolder, Archerion snuggled up to Archanine and drifted off to sleep, the warmth of Archanine’s fur keeping him warm. But his sleep was not to well, for his dream kept reoccurring just as it has done every night since exile. Dreams of ancient horrors within the Southern Kingdoms, flying demons in the Eastern Kingdoms, and at the Roof of the World…an eye attracting glow, but before he can realize what it is, he awakens, as though he is not meant to know what it is, just yet or at all…
They set out the next morning, reaching the end of the forest by noon, only to find an unordinary welcoming party awaiting them…

When you've betrayed all those about you, who will be there to have your back and not your head?

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The following comments are for "Death at the Roof of the World (Chapter 1)"
by Archerion

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