[i]A crowd caws in the Whispering Wood outside Oshserion, causing other birds to flutter away from the noise.[i]

An Elf runs through the forest with lightning speed and mouth-dropping agility, hopping over fallen branches and swinging on branches. His face is covered by the darkness of his brown hooded cloak, which covers his body and cloaks him in darkness. He jumps down a hole and covers himself with his cloak, before listening to the footsteps of the bounty hunters following him.

Head Bounty Hunter: Where has he gone? He can't have escaped us this easily!

The Second Bounty Hunter scoffs and pulls out his sword, hitting random trees to try and get the Elf's attention.

Bounty Hunter: We know you can hear us! Come out, Elodar! You're Uncle wants you dead!

Elodar springs from the hole, slitting the Head Bounty Hunter's throat with his knife, before landing perfectly on his feet.

Elodar: Run, before the same thing happens to you.

The Bounty Hunter breaks into a sprint and bolts into the forest, with Elodar following him with his pace. He manages to catch up to the Bounty Hunter and shoots him in the back with his bow, knocking the Hunter down.

Elodar: Can't have you running back to dear old Uncle now, can we? Telling him I'm still alive, huh?

Elodar pulls out his knife and runs his hand across the blade.
The Bounty Hunter struggles to get away from Elodar, who pins him down with his feet, almost breaking the man's left arm.

Bounty Hunter: Please! I won't tell him! I swear, I'll disa-

Elodar shushes him.

Elodar: No more words, sleep.

Elodar slits the man's throat and drags the corpse over to the other Bounty Hunter, throwing them both down the hole he hid inside.
Elodar swings his hood back up, and disappears into the night, heading to the closest town to Oshserion, Wah Tirion.

As Elodar walks through the gates of Wah Tirion, he ignores the greeting of the Gatesman and continues straight to the Inn for some food and rest.
He walks through the street, looking at his feet so nobody recognizes his face, and continues to the Inn, ignoring anyone's attempt to try and start a conversation with him, a conversation that Elodar has no interest in.
He reaches the Tavern and looks at the sign, a donkey with a drunken man on it's back, this was the Inn of the Drunken Donkey, he was in the right place. He chuckles to himself and swings the door open, before feeling the warmth of the roasting fire and the sounds of the bard's flute and drunken singing.
He walks inside, pushing a man who is so drunk he can barely stand out of his way, heading straight to the bar.

Elodar: Dwarven Mead, if you would.

Elodar throws a few coins on the table, which are collected by the Bartender.

Bartender: You from around these parts, Mr?

Elodar: Darel, just Darel.

Bartender: Well, is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Darel?

The Bartender passes Elodar a flagon of Dwarven Mead, which he takes by the hand as it slides across the table.

Elodar: Hmm, do you have any herb bread? And I shall also need a room for the night.

Bartender: In terms with the herb bread, I shall see what I can do. Your bedroom is right there.

The Bartender points to a door to the right of the bar.

Elodar: Thanks, I shall just go and place my bags down and I shall be with you in one moment, good sir.

Elodar gets up from his stool and takes his pack into the room, placing beside his bed and unstrapping his sword and knife, which he cleaned after the scrap with the Bounty Hunters. He takes off his cloak and sits it down beside his bow and sword, revealing his dark hair, which he dyed to make sure he wans't recognized. He walks back to the bar and sits back down, where his mead and herb bread are waiting for him.
Elodar nods to the Bartender as a thanks, and leaves a pouch of coins on the table, before beginning to eat his meal.

Elodar is sat by the warm fire in the Drunken Donkey, warming his hands after a cold night out hunting for the Innkeeper, who was running low on food. He blows onto his hands and continues to warm them, before getting up and grabbing his flagon of mead off of the table he was sat at.
As he leans on a support for the roof, he watched as the door slowly creaked open, readying his blade. A man enters and looks around. He seems confused, drunk and unaware.
Elodar chuckles and dismisses him as a drunk, before taking a sip of his mead and thinking.

Elodar: I need an army, but where can I start one?

Elodar's eyes brighten as he remembers.

Elodar: Do'sherran! I can do it at Do'sherran!

Elodar quickly begins to pack up his things and leaves, heading to Do'sherran to begin his preparations, and learn how to wage a war.

A few hours after leaving Wah Tirion, Elodar was in the middle of the Great Forest outside Do'Sherran, tending to his campfire. He heard a rustle in the leaves, and immediatly pulls out his blade. He looks around, and grabs his ancestral bow.
He heard another rustle behind him and spun around to deal with the noise. Immediately afterwards, someone jumps out of the bushes and dives at Elodar, flying straight over him as Elodar ducks.
Elodar grabs his sword, but before he can attacked he senses a sharp pain in the back of his knee. He turns around to see an archer poised and ready with another arrow. The man kicks Elodar in the face and picks him up, taking Elodar's sword from him.

Mercenary: You're wanted by your Uncle, Prince Elodar.

Elodar mumbles something and headbutts the man, before trying to run, but falls down because of the pain in his leg. He looks down, and sees a small, crossbow-like bolt in the back of his knee. He yells, and is ran at by the Mercenary.

When some kind of large event happens, that occurrence would be known everywhere. It would start off as newspapers in the neighboring lands, then as conversations in farther countries, then it would just go on to be "Did you know xxxx happened?" rumors. Well, Damion Howard wasn't one to turn down a cry for help. The sudden rise of a tyrant in a country of elves, even if he heard it as a rumor, was worth investigating. So, it would make sense for a human like him to be on the elven side of the border containing Do'Sherran.

Damion himself is a person who would help anyone who is crying for help. That being said, someone just did. A few miles to the East of Do'Sherran, Damion was walking down the dirt road in the middle of a forest. The whole setting was peaceful, nature commanding the setting to be silent except for the very few chirps and sounds of the insects and birds. This peaceful silence was ruined when a scream sounded. Looking to his left, Damion saw that a man running at what seemed to be an injured person. Immediately, Damion sprung into action, unsheathing the sword he had and running to the scene.

It was quite reckless of him, but sometimes in battle, you can't afford to spend time to create a strategy, just act. Act did Damion do, and he ran the the armed man through with his blade with almost little effort. A crossbow bolt whizzed by Damion almost immediately after that, and Damion took the time of the mystery shooter reloading to look to see where the shooter was. Damion removed the blade from the corpse before running straight at the crossbow wielder. Because crossbows still needed time to reload after each shot of the bolt, wielders are open to attacks if their allies are killed. The wielder may have been hidden, but his position was revealed as he struggled to get a new bolt in the crossbow.

During this process, Damion stabbed the crossbow wielder through the chest, glaring at him coldly in the eyes before pushing the corpse with his foot into the bushes. "Tch...." Damion muttered to himself before sheathing the blade.

Elodar dusts himself off and stumbles to his feet, smiling at his saviour.

Elodar: Thank You, Friend. My name is Darel.

Elodar turns to walk off but falls down at the pain in his knee.