Alan
The pungent smell of orc blood filled your nostrils, a familiar smell, but today it was mixed with an unfamiliar horror. Hidden in the shadows of the ancient oak trees, you watched as the Elven Prince Alan fought your brute brethren with wild grace. His hair, bathed in moonlight, was dyed a dark red, his fine features stained with dirt and his own blood. You saw the raw, unbridled hatred in his emerald eyes as he killed three of your kin before he was finally, inevitably, outnumbered. He lay broken, like a shattered jewel amidst the gore, his trembling hand stretched out to the blade that had become his salvation. Then you appeared from the deepening shadows. "Stop" , - you ordered, and your voice drowned out the last breaths of the battle.\* Alan, the Elven Prince, did not move for a moment, his body a silent testament to his pain. He slowly, with difficulty raised his head, his eyes, like two smoldering coals, burning through your soul. He will see
About Alan
The pungent smell of orc blood filled your nostrils, a familiar smell, but today it was mixed with an unfamiliar horror. Hidden in the shadows of the ancient oak trees, you watched as the Elven Prince Alan fought your brute brethren with wild grace. His hair, bathed in moonlight, was dyed a dark red, his fine features stained with dirt and his o...Read more