Arnell WindBlown-The Howling Woods 1
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“Going out hunting?” the aged Elf looked at Arnell, slowly starting to gather his gear. “Not tonight” was the curt reply. He snorted as he walked away, the Old one was sitting with two young female elves, clearly enjoying the company.
Arnell frequently hunted Goblins at night or in the early morning. His preference was to take them one by one, out of the darkness. He felt it was Darkly Romantic in a way. He had no intention of doing so tonight, needing to return to his temporary home and his meditation.
As he left the South gate of Norwick he gave a low whistle. Out of the darkness trotted a Wolf, Aslimnad, his second closest companion of late. The first being the least likely of candidates for the solitary Elf. It was a Half-Orc. A rather large and smelly one, named Ghorag. He was a little 'airy' in the head, but was mostly quiet, and was particularly proficient with a Rather Large (even for a Halfer) sword.
Giving Aslimnad (Aslum or Big Doggie according to Ghorag) a good roughing behind the ear before heading out, Arnell started South, ears pricked and Bow ready. He had already had a rather horrible accident defending the South Wall once already, and was not eager to repeat the experience. Moving silently and aware, he started to notice it gradually. A …feeling; unpleasant. Something was changing in the woods tonight. The animals were quieting. Even the Spirits in the trees grew silent. The hair raised on the back of Arnell's neck. Glancing to his left, he saw Aslimnad tense. Something was happening...not here...but close....Arnell tasted blood in his mouth. Suddenly hurrying he moved East fast. As quickly and quietly as only one completely attuned to the forest could.
He had come to these woods a Ranger, now he was ...different. A series of epiphanies; the knowledge of greater things to come, and a great need in this place. He had awoken one morning startled “I think I'm a druid!?” A wolf had been laying head in paws looking at him, a few feet away. He could feel the deep connection to the wolf, and to the surrounding woods flowing through him....now in the dead of night that connection was humming. Vibrating with power, with a message he could not know.
He rushed silent, the wolf in the dark beside him. He spotted them ahead, some foul Goblins, a shaman at their head. He stopped, his elven hearing bringing their voices to him “The survivor. Has been sent South yes?!!” a smaller goblin grovelled low “yes O' great one, sent ahe....gaghhhhhhk” Arnell had not even thought about it, the Bow singing in his hand, Goblins dropping fast then Aslimnad was among them, snapping death about his jaws. It was over quickly, Arnell moved in swords bringing mercy to survivors as he surveyed the ground. It told a story to his trained eyes, an ambush, another party of goblins moving south, possibly with a captive...then the imperative feeling flowing over him, he had to move fast now!
Moving as fast as he could and still remain silent, he ran South, wolf at his side. In the next stretch of woods he encountered 2 marauding wolves. Not giving them the chance to see him or warn others he sent death to them. Three arrows, two wolves dead. Arnell's jaw tightened, he hated killing these poor creatures, perverted by the goblins in these woods now. He couldn't bear the thought of having Aslimnad slaying his own Kin either. Kneeling quickly “Come here Brother. You must go now” the overly intelligent eyes of the wolf looked up at him-questioning? “the danger ahead is not too great, and I would not have you mar yourself with the blood of your kin. I will avoid killing any that don't need it tonight” His head felt like a great fever was burning in him. He could feel power around him, smell blood too. “Go!” he barked, Aslimnad walked slowly into the trees, looking over his shoulder.
Quickly Arnell arose, running South East. He knew these woods. He hunted them often; bringing death to the Goblins and a respite from their axes and foulness for the trees. He could no longer feel his connection to the woods, didn't notice the loss even. Believing he could cut ahead of the Goblin party, he rushed through a stand of trees, noticing how the creepers lashed at him, branches snagging his clothes. Startled suddenly as a small branch pierced his arm two things happened. The Spell broke. The forest that had so desperately been trying to hold him back, warn him, won through. His connection flowed awake again. These woods were swarming with Goblins now, many more then usual, wolves were even now following his scent to cut him off. A trap! The Goblin magic had worked well, he had sent Aslimnad away, abandoned most of his gear for speed, he was vulnerable. Secondly. He had succeeded, his last step had brought him out directly behind a small group of goblins, with a struggling bound captive.
They seemed as surprised as he was. Recovering quickly he lashed out, his enchanted Long Sword and his Short sword leaping into his hand. He slashed into the Goblins, moving fast, using his bulk to scatter them. He stabbed and slashed them down, knowing he had to move fast, the trap was closing. Glancing around he saw a large group of Goblins moving up from the South, Shamans and Bashers calling brazenly to him. Kneeling fast he ripped the bindings off the poor being...only to be surprised by a glancing dagger into his ribs. A Goblin! Even as he exhaled sharply in pain his twin swords swept the creatures head off, combat reflexes sending him into a short roll, spearing his longsword into the leaping wolf. A scout for the pack closing in from the north.
Sheathing his swords, he drew his shortbow. With one hand he quickly pulled the dagger from his side and dropped it. One chance only. Slow the Goblins, punch a hole through the wolves and run for it. He knew that if they met around him, he would fall. Firing rapidly he sent shafts into the approaching goblins, his blood slick hands delivered promises of pain to the shamans. The Goblins slowed perceptibly, morale dropping. He took that one moment to drop his bow, pulling his swords he ran the short distance to the lead wolf coming in. With Elven nimbleness he stepped to the side stabbing into it even as he roared a challenge to the next two closing in.
Blood flew from his blades as he fought to create an opening. Then he saw them. Alpha wolves moving in from behind. Many of them. “it seems I have made quite the impression lately to warrant such attention” he thought wryly, even as he felt the pit of his stomach drop. TOO LONG!! He spun, taking a Goblin in the face, feeling multiple blades stab into him, scraping on bone, finding the tender meat of his innards. He fought on, spending his life dearly, before falling. He was still alive when the foul beasts, Wolves and Goblins, began to tear into his flesh, taking an early morning meal. Clenching his fists in impotent rage, his vision faded.
The last thing he registered was a smell...?...Wine...Bone..
Hope you enjoyed! This was the 'BIG' death for Arnell...I worked it up a bit for a good story! -but just a bit- I've got his 'rebirth' coming, and sadly after tonights session, his death...I'm pretty sure it will stick this time
Mkable
