"Well... It's quite long, so I'll tell it in parts. First off, my name isn't actually Reserti. When I told the recruiting person my real name, they asked if I'd like to be called something a bit easier to pronounce, so I chose Reserti. The name I'm known by outside of Akras is Glawardír. That's the name known to my beloved. But you can keep calling me Reserti if you wish, I don't really care."
"My village had fallen on hard times recently. Bandits and Orc Warbands were frequently sighted and twice made an attempt to pillage the village. We lost a few good Elves, but we prevailed. On my 80th birthday, I joined the Village Guard as a mounted archer. Three more attacks were made between me joining the guard and my leaving the village." Reserti lifts his right hand and shows Ratodx a small round scar, "Orcish arrow got me while I was collecting my gear. Iúlwen healed it up for me, as she had done many times."
"After the third attack, I decided something must be done. I gathered my two closest friends and whispered goodbye to my fair Iúlwen in the dead of the night. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. My friends and I roamed the skies until about midday, searching for something which could take out the local warbands."
"We ended up flying right over a warband camp without noticing. The arrows came thick and fast, but thankfully there were few skilled archers among them. We lured the combatants away and annihilated them from the skies, dropping stones when we ran out of arrows. When we collected our arrows afterwards, my closest friend collapsed. He had been hiding a wound from us, knowing we would panic. The wound proved fatal, and he..." Reserti sniffs, seemingly unable to go any further.