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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Fantasy · #2301509
A series of posts from Anga's perspective of in game (and not) events.
(orig 2002, wip compilation)

DESPERATE TIMES


Anga sat quietly on his stool in the Arrow, sipping at his goblet of Feywine, just as he had done many times before. The persistant chatter and laughter surrounding him, a blur of sounds. Smiling softly to himself, he started to think back a while, before things were so complicated...

Now... well, things have changed for Anga over the years he's been a resident of Tel'Ruid. He ventured to the quiet glade many years ago, little more than a boy in human years, he arrived tattered, homeless and without a place in this world we live in. Over the years he had studied many things, swordplay and archery, bowcraft... and of more recent, the magical arts. He had made many friends, some more like family than a chum. Of course, he had made the acquaintance of a few less-friendly types as well. One such type in particular flashed through Anga's mind. A drow, when they first came to Tel'Ruid and made their first grisly attacks upon it's residents.
Anga had tracked him in the first days of the raids, Anga had made it his business to know where this drow was, what he was doing, where he was going. Everything about this drow, Anga made it his business to know and it had cost him, Anga had tracked the drow to near a suspected drow outpost. Now, Anga knew he shouldn't have explored further, the Drow had entered his outpost and was likely to be in waiting. The outpost itself, a tall dark tower, made of a roughly cut stone. However, Anga being Anga, decided the outpost needed to be explored, drow or no drow. Swiftly and silently the young elf scout moved toward the tower, too swiftly it would later seem. The drow, weilding a long bloodstained spear leapt out of the shadows of the building and charged him down. Anga was wounded, badly.

* * *


Anga was snapped out of his thoughts by a familar scent. Drow. He knew the smell well enough, often he had spent days at a time in the woods tracking these creatures. He sniffed the air and stood up, almost knocking his half empty goblet all over the tavern floor. With a quick look out the window, Anga was off out the door and in to the forest in the direction of the drow's scent. It didn't take him long to find the drow, and to Anga's surprise Laerithil as well! His years of training in the woods quickly took over, Anga drew his long oaken bow and before he himself knew it, had fired the first of many arrows at this Drow. The drow responded with amazing speed, galloping toward Anga on his steed and nimbly guiding his mount around the heavy bow fire. The drow forced the wary archer to roll away behind a bush, and another arrow found its way in to Anga's fingers as he rose up for a clear, life ending shot.

Hmm...

Anga looked about, the drow was gone and Laerithil was nowhere to be seen. Looking around him, Anga checked the forest for the tell tale signs of recent movement. Laerithil had headed back toward tel'Ruid, whilst the Drow had headed north. Khalin, Anga knew was toward the north, he had spied Khalins ever present pitchfork when he first had followed the drow's scent.
A shiver ran up Anga's spine, and he put a hand to his stomach, re-assuring himself that he had indeed learned his lesson about drow. Anga was off again, racing through the woods following the drow with the same speed and agility his race are known for. Anga spotted the drow, moving in to the shifting shadows of the leaves of overhanging branches.

"These drow certainly have adapted well to the surface" Anga found himself whispering to himself, as he closed in on his quarry.
Counting down to the combat that was about to ensue, Anga paused briefly, something wasn't entirely right about the drow's hiding place.

I should have seen him again by...

Anga fell to the ground and entered a sharp, painful blackness thoughtfully provided by the butt of the drow's spear.
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