An arrival...

[iowanscott]

The day was young, dew still clung to the deep green foliage around the post.. A few are gathered, creeping ever closer to the precious warmth eminating from the small fire. The only sounds are that of their own breath, creating small puffs in the still chill morning air. They suddenly notice something, a figure dressed in a flowing black tunic and hood, an omnious figure, looking nearly like a shadow in the dim light. Seeing he had been discovered the figure steps forward, simultaneously removing his hood to reveal a tanned elven face, he bows and says his greeting in a soft, eerie, yet pleasant voice. "Greetings, you may call me Ver'il".....

[iowanscott]

Darkness creeps over the hills, night has falllen once again, and the elf darts in and out of the shadows.. Searching.. "Yes!" The cheer so loud in his mind he falls low, afraid someone may have heard him. laying a hand on the already bulging pouch of goblin ears, "Tonight-*a devilish grin twists his face*-Tonight I will dine well.." He unsheathes a small dagger, kissing the base of the blade, whispering a prayer, he readies himself for the coming battle. He spots three of them, two archers and one carying a short sword. The plan of attack races through his head, small doubts bubble into thought "What if he doesnt go down--What if my concentration is interupted--What if--". He shakes his head violently. Cursing himself for such doubt. Thoughts gathered he goes over the plan in his mind one more time... " Attack before they see me, take the first archer with magic missiles, in the initial confusion ready another spell and stun the two that are left, ready two more barages of missiles while they are dazed and it will all be over.. Nothing can go wrong.." The last part echos through his thoughts for a few seconds, then almost as if pushed by an unseen force he leaps out of the shadows already halfway through casting his first spell;"Success!" The voice in his head screams in triumph as the first part goes flawlessly, the two other goblins start in fear and supprise. Whipping around in circles trying to see the source of the spell, a branch cracks giving away the elfs position, as each of the goblins snap to look in the direction of the noise all they see is a green flash. The elf hisses a fanatic laugh, feelings of supreme confidence and elation course through his body. He readies his spells with haste and before the goblins ever recover the final spell is cast, leaving the remains strewed about the clearing. He walks to each of them removing the ears and sliding them into the bloodied pouch hanging from his belt. he turns on his heel grinning widely "Grayham better have a lot of gold on hand today..." He laughs quietly to himself patting a hand on the bulging pouch, the pouch so full it looks as if it may burst at the seams.. He throws the black hood back up over his face and melts back into the shadows, easily staying hidden from sight.

[iowanscott]

He slips a small slice of bread from a fold in his black tunic. Bringing it to his lips he takes a bite of the rotting hunk, thinking to himself "Only a few days longer.. I will return.. I can be safe.." He gags down the food and takes a small swig of water to wash it down. He then returns the flask to his tunic, and folds the bread back into a small cloth and sets it between his legs, drifting back into a deep sleep, fighting for room in the small dark place he has made his temporary hideout.

[iowanscott]

The elf's muscles tighten, sweat glistening on his forehead, he lunges up and takes hold of the top branch. Swinging his weight to the other side he peers out over the valley, barely able to keep himself from screaming. Quickly climbing down he lands lightly amongst the deep green foliage. Gathering himself he picks up a small bag and starts walking, a long and quiet walk, thinking of what is to come... Seeing the trade house and the people gathered around the fire he smiles, thinking to himself "I'm Back! And it will be different..." making his way quietly toward the fire he takes up a spot, bathed in shadow, listening in on what he has missed..