3. Errhanous Tallon

Errhanous Tallon


  • Player Login: Kell Durand
    Character Name: Errhanous Tallon

    The cuts on his body stung, and he dislodged the arrow from his back. It hurt but he was learning. All this pain for a promise, he shook his head wondering if he was a little crazy. Errhanous leaned up against the tree and surveyed the dead. Arrows protruded from all of their bodies save three with deep Spear wounds. His eyes fell on those three and he made a face.

    “Tsk, force of habit.”

    He looked up as the snow began to fall. It was getting colder, but that was to be expected. The farther he moved north the more the snow would fall. Pulling his cloak tighter he slipped into reverie.

    It was the day of his expulsion. His brown skin glinted in the sunlight dirtied with mud and blood. He was surrounded by elves all chiding him and tossing rocks, their leader pointing an arrow at his face, not fifteen feet from him. His own bow and arrow shook in his hands as he was pelted with dirt and pebbles.

    “Your father was a ferocious animal, you don’t belong. Go join your wild cousins in the forest.”
    “Wendelyth doesn’t love you; don’t taint any more of us with your wild blood.”
    “What makes you think you could be a Ranger?”

    It happened so fast. He had cried for them to leave him alone, but was responded with an arrow whizzing by his face striking his ear; clipping it. He felt the blood drip down the side of his face and pool at his neck. A sting on his hand and he loosed his arrow. Time seemed to slow and he watched in horror as the arrow found a home in his tormentor’s chest. It was a sickening thud as it struck through soft flesh and pierced heart. Errhanous stopped the memory; he didn’t need to play out the next painful events.

    A hand found its way to the torn ear and rubbed at the stub. Instead he pulled forth the day of the promise. A man lay dieing, gutted like a pig his short bow broken before him. It had been so long since Errhanous encountered another sentient, that words were hard to come by, he approached cautiously and silently as the man choked on his own blood.

    “Elf, over here … please” He motioned Errhanous over his voice almost a whisper and in shallow gasps. “I need, I need to speak with you. Just listen to my tale.” Errhanous nodded, simple enough he didn’t have to speak just listen.

    “My name is Errhanous Tallon. I come from a long line of warriors. I was born not far from here; my clan was feared for our power in battle. We have ever lived a simple life here and seek only to improve ourselves through battle. But times change and when wars pass into peace, there is little for a clan as ours to do but fight among ourselves. To improve ourselves as well as teach others we test ourselves to our limits, even risking death. Tell me … have you any goals?”

    He cocked an eyebrow at the man and shrugged. The man shook his head and sighed.

    “I envy you of elven blood, to have so much time, yet to squander it as you do. If only I had your life, your dexterity. My dream was to teach, to craft this bow into a weapon to be feared in Melee combat, to outshine the longbow and to cause great damage to my foe.”

    Errhanous chuckled and smirked at the man.

    “Yes you laugh. It is funny. I must be out of my mind yes? But it is a dream none the less. We humans have such a short life compared to you Elves. And we do not remember as well as you do. But if I had created this bow, if I had been able to teach this fighting stance.” The man coughed up more blood. “I was almost there … but I was cut down by a mob of Orcs. As good as I was I could not escape death. And now my legacy will die with me. The bow I crafted, my fighting stance, fate is cruel. But perhaps it is also kind. Tell me … please, that you have stumbled onto me, in my hour of need, so that I can pass on this to you.”

    The man looked so tired so small, crumpled against the tree blood oozing from countless wounds. Scars covered his body, showing signs of his painful fighting stance. And yet in his eyes there was a fire, a determination to see his legacy passed on. Errhanous looked into those eyes and could not be drawn from them. The old man’s hand reached out to Errhanous and squeezed tightly.

    “Will you promise me? Will you take up my legacy?”

    Purpose, he finally had purpose. After wandering the past century in the wilds, Errhanous finally had a purpose.

    “I pledge to take up the name Errhanous Tallon, to seek out the way of the short bow, and create a Fighting technique that will withstand the blows of Melee fighting, and to create a short bow that will rival that of the long bow. This I do swear. My word is my bond, my bond is my life.”

    The man died and Errhanous buried him. He snapped out of Reverie, and examined the scars that lined his body. He sighed and wished he could learn as fast as the humans did. He stretched, careful of his still fresh wounds. It was going to be a long journey. As the snow fell he buried an arrow into the ground and continued to walk north clutching at a wound in his side.


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