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[Orange Wizard]

The elf cursed under his breath. He was Ametha Amiÿaiti, and was born as a child of the gods themselves. He had travelled to the baking north of the world with a task: to rid the world of evil.
Despite all this, there was little chance of him overpowering all three of the bandits patrolling the camp.
He quietly moved closer and ducked behind a tree, just out of view. He picked up a rock, and tossed it at the nearest bandit, a long-haired man with a nasty looking morningstar. The rock went wide, bouncing past the maceman. He looked up to where to rock came from, and saw nothing. Ametha had rolled backwards down a slope, and landed in a small cloud of dust. A bowman, who had been keeping watch at the bottom of the hill, was looking at him quizzically. He drew an arrow from his quiver.
Ametha charged the bowman, who jumped out of the way before smacking Ametha on the hand with his bow as he rushed past. The elf spun around, and stabbed the bowman in the chest with his spear. The polished alder branch barely raised a bruise, but it was followed by many, many more stabs that bruised and tore skin and muscle all over the bowman’s body. Finally, Ametha bit out his throat, and the bandit bled to death.
The elf, now armed with a bow and quiver full of arrows, crept back up the slope to the rest of the camp. They clearly hadn’t heard the scuffle with the bowman; they were sitting around, making jokes. Ametha made his way to the other side of the camp, and loosed an arrow. It struck a spearman, who appeared to be the leader, in the leg. There was a spray of blood, a crack, and the leader fell to the ground. The other two bandits, an axeman and a maceman, drew their weapons and began to search for the phantom archer.
A second arrow flew out from behind a tree, and hit the axeman in the chest. He staggered backwards, and blood poured from the wound. A third arrow flew into the maceman’s hip. He collapsed, groaning in pain.
Next, Ametha himself leapt out from cover to drive the point of his spear through the axeman’s head. Blood and brains spattered Ametha’s clothes and the surrounding grass. The elf walked over to the leader, and tore his throat out with the point of his spear. He tossed his wooden spear aside, and picked up the bronze pike that the leader had held. This will be much more effective, he thought.
A short walk back to the centre of the camp revealed the maceman had attempted to drag himself away before passing out. He had left a trail of blood, and it was already drying in the harsh northern sun. Ametha drove the point of his pike through the bandit’s head, and started on his journey back to the village of Thadnek, or Agedarrow in the human tongue, where he would spend the night.

[Lt_Alfred]

Awesome! good job!

[Gavakis]

Nice story, 7/10.

[Orange Wizard]

Awesome! good job!

Nice story, 7/10.

Thanks! There's more coming in a few hours.

[Tirion]

Badass elf is badass.

[Orange Wizard]

Woo! Next update! I'm actually a few days ahead with my prepared updates, so I may slack off and fall behind.

The next morning, Ametha checked his diary for his next target: another bandit camp. He arrived at the camp, and walked past a tree to reveal a spearman, staring straight at him. His thrust was parried, the spearman raised a shout, and two more bandits charged in, one armed with a war hammer, the other with a mace. Not wanting to go toe-to-toe with three bandits, the elf turned to run.
He barely made his first step when he felt searing pain in his right leg. He collapsed, and raised his shield to deflect a flurry of blows from the bandits. He flung an arrow from his quiver, striking the hammerman in the leg with a burst of blood. He gasped in pain and collapsed. The second arrow struck the maceman in the arm, chipping the bone. He fell to his knees, and passed out from the pain. The spearman stepped back and raised her shield, backing away from the crippled, yet deadly, elf.
Ametha dragged himself over to the two fallen bandits, and with two quick thrusts, made sure they wouldn’t rise again. He turned to look for the surviving spearman to see a crossbow bolt slam into the hard, dry ground next to him. The crossbow’s bearer stood at the other side of the camp, loading another bolt.
Ametha’s mind was racing. He couldn’t stand, let alone run, the crossbowman would be able to fire at least two more shots before he would get to hand-to-hand combat, the spearman was somewhere in these hills, he had a quiver full of arrows…
He grabbed an arrow, and threw it at the crossbowman with all his strength. It sailed through the air, and its point drove deep into the bandit’s chest. He gasped, and tore it out. A torrent of blood gushed from the wound, and drenched his clothes. He collapsed, and the pool of blood continued to grow. Ametha sighed in relief, and began to search the chests and bags that were piled at the centre of the camp. They contained armour and weapons. The armour was too big to fit his elven frame, and he already had a decent weapon.
With nothing else to do, Ametha checked his map. The human castle of Iquiadi was not far away, and there would be doctors there to treat his leg. He leant on his pike and struggled to his feet, only to hear footsteps behind him.
He tried to turn, but lost his balance and fell. In front of him was the last bandit from this camp, the woman with the iron spear. She raised her above her head, and drove it down with terrifying force. Wood chips flew from Ametha’s shield, and he attempted a counterstrike. His thrust missed, and the bandit jumped backwards. Ametha flung an arrow, and it struck her wrist, and stayed there. The bandit collapsed from the pain, and Ametha made his hasty escape.

[Lt_Alfred]

Once again an awesome story.
and I don't think Ametha should have ran away before finishing the job, just saying.

[Orange Wizard]

Once again an awesome story.
and I don't think Ametha should have ran away before finishing the job, just saying.

It was actually the spearman who ran off, but I didn't know how to fit that into the story, so I made her not chase Ametha.

<section break>

Sadly, Ametha has some serious nerve damage in his right lower leg. He can't walk without aid of a crutch, and he can't move anywhere near as fast as he used to be able to. I don't know of any way of healing this outside of werebeast curses, which I *may* be able to arrange in future. [foreshadowing]It *may* also become a lot more important in future for Ametha to obtain supernatural healing.[/foreshadowing]

[Lt_Alfred]

Ametha Amiÿaiti, the Spear-Werecreature-Elf
sounds interesting.

[rabidgam3r]

I like it just because its giving an elf a chance to be a NOT-ELF. Stupid tree-hugging hippies with their wooden spears and their bows and their pointy ears....

[Orange Wizard]

In a (since rewritten) section later on, Ametha distinctly said "Bugger the trees". And no, he did not mean it literally.
I've started on a really complicated contrivance for him to be were-creature-fied later on, but it may not work.
Anyway, I have plenty of this stuff prepared, so have some more:

The fortress of Iquiadi rose high above the undulating hills of The Craterous Steppes, and it was here that Ametha had found a place to rest. His leg would never heal, he had been told, but a crutch helped him walk. It had a fist-sized agate set in its handle, and was carved from a branch of mahogany.
With the crutch and his shield held in his left hand, and his bow held in his right, Ametha set out to attack yet another camp of bandits. This time, however, he had two hammermen with him, who would do most of the hand-to-hand fighting. When they reached the camp, the hammermen charged in, while the elf fired arrows from cover. It was nighttime, and the bandits drowsy. A massacre ensued.
A crossbowman managed to get a lucky shot in, tearing out the throat of one of the hammermen. Ametha crept up behind him and brained him with his shield. A lasher shattered the other hammerman’s spine, and the elf rewarded him with an arrow to his shoulder and teeth to his throat.

Once again, he was alone.

With nowhere he needed to go, Ametha began to travel north. Eventually, he reached a river, and jumped in to cross it. Almost immediately, an alligator burst out from the water with a stomach-turning roar. Its jaws clamped shut around Ametha’s shield, and promptly had its front leg shredded by a lucky strike from an arrow. It backed off, and the elf flung a second arrow at it, which lodged in its gut. Ametha brained the unconscious alligator with his shield, and swam towards the other side of the river.
He didn’t make it far before searing pain tore through his right arm. He dropped his bow and screamed. His crutch drifted downstream, forgotten, as he groped for his arm. He found it, trailing blood, in the jaws of a second alligator. A few strikes of his shield stunned it long enough for him to tear out its throat with his teeth. Yet More alligators swam towards him, which he managed to dispatch in a similar fashion.
Finally, he hauled himself out of the bloody river, and passed out from exhaustion.

[Orange Wizard]

And some more:

Ametha woke. It was dawn.
He sat up, and surveyed his injuries. His right arm was gone. His right leg had no feeling in it; the nerves had been shredded. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t stand. He couldn’t fight. His bow was lost, his crutch was lost, and his pike was lost.
He had a short iron sword in his backpack, one that he had no clue how to use. He took it out anyway. At least he could try to stab things, now.
He travelled north once again, to find a village known as Catchsafety. There, he learned of something else he could do, besides slaying bandits. A vampire had taken up residence in a nearby village.
Dutifully, the elf dragged his one-armed body westwards, towards this vampire's house. He arrived a few hours later, and staggered through a door, leaning on the point of his sword. He looked around the room at the baffled faces. A one-armed elf? What?
One of the humans paid Ametha no heed, however. He stood in the corner, adjusting his crown of human nails. The elf stood up as best he could, and accused the human of being a vampire, a child of the night. The vampire responded by drawing a knife. For a heartbeat, nothing moved.
Suddenly, everyone in the room had knives in their hands, and charged at the vampire. Ametha swung his sword, and severed his left foot. Soon, the shouting ceased, and the humans returned to their duties, ignoring the disfigured corpse lying in the middle of the floor.
The elf struggled to his feet, one again leaning heavily on his sword. Before leaving, he managed to recruit a woman with a silver spear. She called herself Uda, and swore to follow Ametha to glory, and to death.
Ametha journeyed north and east for the better part of the day. The sun was setting in a red blur by the time he and Uda arrived at the town of Flowertoe.
The crippled elf staggered into an abandoned warehouse, and collapsed. He slept intermittently for about five hours before he woke and limped off in the direction of the castle.
The guards let him pass into the central keep, and he stood before Therset, a gigantic skinless lizard, who called herself god. He bowed deeply. The deity did not appear to notice him, however, so he continued on to the infirmary, where he found a second crutch. By putting his shield in his bag, he could hold both the sword and crutch in his remaining arm, albeit poorly. He would never move as fast as he once did.
A weapon that he knew how to use would be invaluable. He hobbled off to the armoury. Eventually he found a weapon that was not made of silver: a finely-crafted iron halberd adorned with hanging rings of several gemstones. He hobbled out of the castle, and looked in his diary. There was someone here by the name of Sattha who he had been called upon to kill.
Inquiries revealed that Sattha was an outlaw, hiding in the city’s catacombs. They could be accessed from the lower levels of the Church of Heathers. Ametha grimaced, and staggered down the street.

[Tirion]

Yeah, that elf desperately needs healing. He's very lucky if he lives that long, though.

[Orange Wizard]

It gets worse.

The Church of Heathers had no door that Ametha could see, making it all but inaccessible from anywhere other than the roof. Cursing, he opened his diary find his next target. Sattha would have to wait… until elves could fly.
Ametha grabbed a passing dwarf by the shoulder, and asked him what he knew of Ebbak Sculptedblushed. After some bribes and threats, the dwarf, Seto, agreed to guide Ametha to Ebbak’s camp.
It was midday when the mismatched trio arrived at the camp, Kissflashed, and the battle began soon after. Seto appeared to be quite adept with his knife, Uda ran almost immediately, and Ametha laid waste to the pair of bandits by throwing copper arrows. Everything descended into chaos, and then blackness...
When Ametha awoke, he discovered that his three remaining limbs were all but useless. He could move by wriggling along the ground, he could bite as well as ever, but he could do nothing else. And Uda stood impassively at the edge of the carnage. Seto was dead; his skull smashed open. The bandits had died with a great many arrows sticking in their bodies.
Blood had turned the ground to mud. Death had come to this place, and Ametha Amiÿaiti, the Sunspear, child of the gods, had not passed through unscathed.

[Orange Wizard]

I forgot about this thread, and I misplaced the file where I was keeping my story

I suppose I'll get round to writing some new stuff later.