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Two Orcs fighting over a dog?s carcass, another Orc swinging a screaming child by the feet, dashing its head against a tree, another Orc gutting an Elven warrior and pulling out his entrails, howling with glee; all these Amras witnessed, burning through his eyes into his soul!
The Orcs had emerged from the forest like wraiths, making none of the trampling sounds they normally made, heralding their arrival and giving the tree born village little time to prepare?..was it magic? It seemed an entire Orc tribe attacked the village, there were so many Orcs, tearing through the trees, setting fires and waiting for the Elves to descend to defend their homes.
His father had rallied a few warriors and battled in the center of the sacred glade, Amras at his side, swinging the only weapon he could find quickly, a rusted greatsword an Orc had dropped as he was struck by Elven arrows. Cut, dodge, slash, overhand blow, cut dodge, slash, side blow, dodge???Amras lost track of time as one Elven warrior after another fell from the Orc attack, until only Amras stood. He appeared as an apparition; blood and sweat soaked hair hung over his eyes, his face was covered with soot from the burning trees, and blood stained his leather overtunic, his leather boots, and his arms up to the elbows!
With a grunt, Amras raised the rusted greatsword and rushed towards the Orcs. The Orcs, momentarily stunned by this move, flinched backward; giving Amras time to reach the nearest Orc, a large sub-chief. Amras began to scream as his sword entered the Orcs breast, emerging with a gout of blood and detritus from his back. With a howl of rage, the Orcs swarmed Amras, pulling him to the ground and clubbing him, over and over, battering his already beaten body, until his movements stopped!
Amras awoke to a sea of pain! His entire body throbbed as he struggled to sit. It took him almost twenty minutes to sit upright and he could only open one of his eyes, the other was swollen shut. Finally, Amras stood upright, tottering on weakening legs, only to topple over in pain and exhaustion.
Again, Amras fought his way to the surface, breathing a great gulp of air and biting back a gasp as he felt the pain from his many wounds. A broken nose, swollen left eye, three broken ribs, a broken wrist, and many, many minor and not so minor cuts and slashes was his legacy. Luckily, the healer?s tree was not completely burned and he was able to crawl to the tree and ascend the intricately worked wooden ramp and retrieve some bandages and ointments the Orcs had either missed or neglected. After almost two hours, Amras was able to stand and climbed slowly about the burnt tree village, looking for survivors and supplies. He knew that the Orcs could come back at anytime and wanted to make sure he made funeral preparations quickly before they returned.
It took almost the entire day to collect all the dead and place them on the huge funeral pyre he had created. He felt devastated that he could do no more for his fallen family and friends, but it was all he could do. After saying a prayer to Correlon Larethian, Amras lit the pyre and watched as his life disappeared.
Amras limped along a little used path he had found as a little boy, making his way towards a small, clear pond in the middle of a glade. He had spent many hours in this glade, playing with friends and swimming in the pond. Exhausted, Amras fell beside the pond and slaked his thirst, then turned his eyes heavenward, contemplating his next move.
Amras awoke with a start! He could not tell how long he had slept, but knew that he ached in every part of his body and his belly rumbled with hunger. Amras took off his bloody leather overtunic, boots, and undergarments and slowly slid into the pond, forgetting pain and hunger as he enjoyed the cool, fresh water.
Amras stayed in the little glade for two weeks, living off fish, game, and berries, slowly regaining his strength and contemplating his next move. As he stared down into the pond, remembering his previous life, his father, mother, sisters, village friends, bitterness enveloped him and his decision was made. Henceforward, he would be known as Elalvaillnya (vengeance) and would destroy the Orcs that had so utterly changed his life! Elal slowly hefted the rusted greatsword and made his way from the glade????