“…Everyone and everything meets its end in some point in time. Yet, as a human, I cannot help but wonder how soon my time will come. The immortal races of Sazacon can rest easy on the days knowing that their age will never show nor will time ever catch up to them. But humans only have a short time to live. No matter how much we try to avoid time, it always seems to catch up to us one way or another. At night I wonder…if tomorrow will be the final day I walk this world…”
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- From the journal of Archerion Fellonar.
As they approached the burning city of the Sun Elves, Archerion couldn’t help but feel something was amiss - that no ordinary force could have done this kind of damage to such a city – and that what ever caused this disaster was still lurking nearby.
Archerion drew his bow, along with an arrow, and cautiously walked into the Sun Elf city looking for some clue as to what had happened. Canialia hesitantly started to follow, but Archerion motioned for her to stay back.
Out of, what appears to be nowhere, a volley of arrows began to rain down upon him. Noticing the nearby wall still partially standing, Archerion dove behind it, Archanine following, protecting them from the sudden attack.
He, slightly, peered out from behind the wall then looked back at Canialia and her party. He aimed his bow, seemingly, at Canialia, triggering the rest of the group to draw their bows and aiming them towards him and Archanine.
“Fools!” he yelled shooting his arrow precisely 7 seven inches from Canialia’s chest then diving aside, along with Archanine, to avoid her bodyguards’ attack. He then threw down his bow and put his hands up in surrender.
“Some marksman,” Canialia growled. “Your arrow missed. Was it the pressure that caused your aim to be off? Or was it—”
“—the goblin that was behind you.” Archerion interrupted and nodded to look behind Canialia at the Goblin scout’s lifeless carcass. “Do you truly think I would shoot at a woman?” Archerion said sarcastically and with a wink.
Canialia, looking back at the goblin with Archerion’s hand-crafted arrow gouged between its eyes, falls to her knees as her eyes begin to flow with tears. The others lowered their bows as Archerion quickly grabbed his and ran to her side.
“My kin…my home…all of them, dead to the hands of these goblins…”
“Perhaps not.” Archerion said placing a hand on her should and snapped his fingers for Archanine to bring the arrow he had recovered from the volley that was fired on him. “This is no goblin arrow,” he explained, showing it to her. “The wood this arrow was made from is a Madicon Tree, a tree only found in the Eastern Kingdoms near my former home of Shin’Alor.”
“Wait…” she interrupted, “why would the Denizens of Shin’Alor be consorting with goblins?”
Archerion sighed. “I have a feeling that this is not the only place to have fallen to this horde of goblins. As I was saying, the wood from a Madicon Tree is extremely durable, almost as strong as that of steel, and is not easily broken. The tip of the arrow is forged from a very rare metal called Acidite.”
“I’ve heard of this substance. When it strikes the target, the metal shell breaks releasing acid unto the target, correct?”
“Yes, but for some strange reason, these did not release like they should have. I’ve a very strong feeling we shall find our answers here, in the Northern Kingdoms. If you are willing to travel with me, you are more than welcome to do so.” He smiled at her, placing the arrow and his bow into his quiver and stood up bringing her with him.
“Archerion?” she said as he started to walk away.
He stopped and turned around slightly to look at her. “Yes?”
She walked up beside him, her cadre of archers behind her, and smiled. “Thanks.”
He smiled and simply nodded then began walking northbound in search of a trail to follow.
When you've betrayed all those about you, who will be there to have your back and not your head?