You blink, rubbing your naturally dark green eyes. Casually remembering the previous night, you recall spending the last few days out in a friend’s wilderness camp in the region of Quel’Thalas, just on the outskirts of the high elf capital city, Silvermoon. Coming from a region south of this land, you knew little about the surrounding region of Quel’Thalas, other than it was home to the vast majority of the High Elven race. You calmly shake your head, attempting to remove the fragile memories from your mind.
Turning around to exit the bathroom, you’re immediately greeted by a large bear-like creature staring at you through the doorway. “Adjusting, friend?” the creature asks, his comforting, deep voice resonating within the cabin. He was a furbolg, an entity of the wilderness, and a friend of yours from years back when you met each other in this very wilderness. “Ah.. Lorg. Yes, my friend, I’m adjusting to this life.” You ask, walking past Lorg. “Did I wake you?” you ask, approaching your light metal armor and long sword in the corner of the room. “No…” Lorg states, trotting over to exit of the cabin, his words clearly lacking definition. “We hunt tonight. Prepare.” He says, exiting the cabin. As Lorg opens the cabin door, the bright morning sunshine infiltrates the dark cabin, shining onto your fully equipped armor. You pick up your long sword and follow Lorg outside.
As the cumbersome beast waddles his way forward, you can’t help but wonder why this day feels strange. You turn to Lorg, who appears to be cleaning his paws off in a small trough of dirty water. “Did anything happen last night?” you query, sliding your long sword into it’s sheathe. Upon finishing cleaning his paws, Lorg softly rotates his head towards you. “More elves in forest. Had two enter camp looking for something.. what, not sure.” He states, a bit of concern in his low, growling voice. Grasping his words, you wonder whether or not you would run across someone you knew, or more importantly, someone you really didn’t want to meet with again. Shaking the thought off, you return to Lorg’s side, following his relaxed figure further into the forest.
After a short walk with Lorg to his favorite watering hole, an uncorrupted pond, you decide to question Lorg further about the elves he had seen. As you both approach the edge of the pond, Lorg suddenly stops, halting your progress as you bump into the back end of his warm, furry hide. As you peer past him, you see two cloaked figures armed with bows already at the pond. One appears to be filling their canteens, as the other plays sentry and watches your fuzzy friend intently. “Who are you?!” Lorg shouts, his powerful growl startling the figure gathering water, as the sentry raises it’s bow towards Lorg. You withdraw your long sword from its sheathe and hold it in front of you defensively, keeping the blunt side of the sword in front of you and the cloaked figures. As you step out from behind Lorg, preparing yourself for combat, you analyze the cloaked figures quickly. You notice the fair-skinned limbs on both the sentry and the one previously gathering water, who now shambles for a second bow.
“By orders of the Windrunner clan, stay back, creature! If you wish to talk, send your companion!” the feminine sounding voice demands, removing her hood to reveal the blindingly beautiful female elf underneath. Defined blue eyes, blonde hair, and the instantly distinguishable sense of authority. They were high elves, without a doubt. You immediately lower your sword and turn to Lorg. “It’s alright, friend. These are protectors of the woods here. Rangers, to be precise.” You say, sheathing your sword in hopes of correcting this misunderstanding.
The rangers turn to each other, muttering quietly among themselves. You stare at the rangers, raising an eyebrow at their mysterious conversation, while Lorg understandably shifts around impatiently. Finally reaching their consensus, the rangers motion for you to come closer. You nod and begin walking forward. As you close in on the rangers, an ominous feeling enters your gut. Unsure of the situation, you stop in front of the rangers and ruffle your hair. “What seems to be the prob-“ you ask, immediately cut off by a sudden burning in your back. Your vision fades as you hear Lorg growl with absolute rage, while the rangers in front of you hastily scramble into the woods ahead of you. Attempting to diagnose yourself vain, you collapse to the grass in front of you. The clattering of metal weapons is heard briefly before you fade into unconsciousness.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Get MORE!
Shop Memberships
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
