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[Avelon]

Prologue

Keth always knew he was different.

As a child he never played with the other children, instead preferring to venture out into the woods beyond his home to hunt squirrels with rocks, or stand in the shallows of the river Ponoc and spear passing fish on a sharpened stick. By the age of twelve he was a skilled hunter and able to forage for himself. Through the summer months he would go into the woods and set up camp, returning only when the chill winds of autumn brought him.

He was born to the name Amsanir, a simple farmer's son. Tenderwield. One winter night he looked across the table at his father Ramet, and saw in him a world-weary air; a man who had wasted his life and was troubled by the fact each day. 'Is this what I will become?' he asked of himself. 'Is that all there is to look forward to - regret?'.

"...no." Ramet looked up, eyebrows raised. "What was that, Keth?" Keth shook his head. "No," he repeated. "I will not become you!" Rising from his seat, he stormed from the one room hovel, his father's bewildered askances on his heels. "Keth? Where are you going? What do you mean, become me? Come back!"

That night he shivered. Not dressed for such cold, he huddled beneath the window of the blacksmith, sucking in what warmth he could from the wall behind him. He knew then that he had to leave. There was nothing here for him. But in winter, with no supplies and no coat, how would he live? Looking up at the twinkling stars, he sighed, resigning himself to wait here another month. When the first leaves appeared on the maples in the town square, he thought, he would go.

It was then that Keth noticed the window above him was ajar. He gazed at it for some time before looking around, and then slowly pushing it up. It opened easily. Looking in at the room beyond, the dying embers of the forge cast shadows across the walls. Shadows of the dully gleaming weapons scattered around tables. He remained there for several long moments, forgetting the cold, before slipping through the window.

A sword and shield stood out from the rest. They were plain, the sword and shield, and of iron make. Hefting them, Keth grimaced. They were heavy. 'But I will become stronger,' he mused to himself. 'Much stronger.' Casting his gaze around, he spotted a suit of light leather armour mixed with chain to provide extra protection around the chest and hips. The chain over the chest was broken, which was likely why it was here, but Keth knew he would not get another opportunity. He took the armour and hastily buckled it on, found a swordbelt, and absconded through the window.

The bitter cold seemed pleasant after the heat of the forge, and Keth laughed for the first time he could remember. He ran, then. He knew that a mile to the north the misty seas met jagged bluffs, which turned into steep cliffs as they extended west. But to the south - to the south he knew very little. Only that there were other places - other things to see. Trees passed by him in a blur as the cold wind caught his hair, the broken chain of his armour clinking as it was jostled around. His footfalls sounded heavy in his ears, and although his newfound equipment was heavy, he felt lighter than he ever had in his life.

Freedom.

[Hawkfrost]

Please continue.

[Avelon]

The introduction is somewhat rushed so I could get straight to the adventurer bit. Apologies for the low quality; I didn't want it to be tl;dr.

Chapter One

Keth stared into the bottom of his mug, contemplating the thin oily layer of liquid within. It wasn't by any stretch of the imagination good ale, but it helped stave off the cold slipping in through the cracks of the old tavern. He was brought out of his reverie when the hostess set a plate down in front of him with a few slices of greasy...pork, he fervently hoped. He pushed his near empty mug forward and, without looking up at the comely wench, hungrily descended upon the first hot meal he had had in weeks.

Later that evening, Keth drew from his pack the old map he had found - along with the pack - in an abandoned shack a few miles to the south of his hometown. Unfurling it, he spread it across the table and pinpointed his location. 'Bottomgreaves,' he mused. 'Well, I suppose it's no worse than Hardlabours.' Squinting in the dim light of the candle, he carefully scanned the surrounding area. Another small town lay half a day's journey to the southeast, but apart from that, there was nothing but forest and hills for miles.

"...and even Rorec won't go." Keth looked up as two men entered: one a stately looking man with a wolf pelt cape and an enormous warhammer strapped across his back, and the other a portly looking fellow in a long undyed cave spider silk robe. The latter of the two seemed to be the speaker. "I've sent a request out for warriors to every edge of the Earthen Empires' territory and heard nothing back." The two sat at a table across the room, and the robed man called for beer. "So you see, Your Excellency, that is why I have prevailed upon you to rally some of your men." The caped man slowly nodded. "I see. This ettin has killed three, you said?" The mayor, as Keth identified him, set his jaw and nodded once.

As the two fell into brooding silence, the tavern wench entered and, giving a start at the caped man, swiftly deposited their drinks and left again. Keth slowly rose, scooping up his map, and strode with confidence toward the table of the seated men. The mayor looked up with an expression of exhaustion, but the eyes of the other man were sharp, calculating, and perhaps interested in the young man with broken armour.

"You have need of my services," Keth stated bluntly, trying to sound casual. He kept his gaze riveted on the mayor, whom he found was easier to stare at. "...do I?" The tired expression lifted only slightly as the mayor's gaze swept over him once. "YOU are going to kill an ettin, are you?" Keth narrowed his eyes and nodded sharply. "I will bring back its head," he said, "if you will but tell me where its lair is." The two men at the table looked at one another and shared a private smile, though the stoic hammerman hid his behind his beer. "Alright then. The Deep of Ink is about a day's journey to the south and west. I'll mark that map you had out with its location." As he did so, Keth noticed that the mayor was missing two fingers on his left hand. Catching his look, the man dryly explained, "The ettin. I threw myself in front of my wife and it sliced them off with my own sword. Then it ate her while I watched." Keth's eyes widened as the map was passed back to him. "Go with treachery," the mayor said through clenched teeth.

He went with reluctance.

[Avelon]

Sorry for the double post; I'm doing it this way so as to avoid running into the character limit, which I do not know. I'm probably being overly generous, but better safe than sorry, right?

The air was still as Keth left the roughly cobbled street behind and trudged through the tall grasses toward the woods. He cursed himself with every foul word he knew in Elven - which, given that his hometown had been on relatively good terms with the Elves since the last war, was a fair number of words - and muttered to himself about his foolishness. Take on an ettin, sure! Be eaten while being taunted! Every bad quality of an ogre or a troll, multiplied by two.

"Perhaps I'll just leave, and never return here," he murmured. "If I go back without the ettin's head-" heads, he thought, what a fool he must have sounded! "-they will surely ridicule me and call me coward." Keth stopped, and looked up through the twisted branches above him at the stars beyond. "And I would be a coward. A coward, thief, and closer than ever to my father." He stood there a moment more, then lowered his head. Just in time to see a flash of white dart between two trees. Instantly on guard, Keth drew his sword and hoisted his shield from his shoulders. He could hear them, now, all around him. Circling him - waiting for him to run.

Keth did not run. "Come on, then, either attack me or find an Elf to fu-" The first wolf took him by surprise, barreling into his side, but caught only the man's armour in its jaws. Keth rolled, gripping the torso of the wolf tightly to ensure it didn't recover before him. Ending up on top, he pushed himself back enough to thrust his shortsword down, skewering the wolf's neck. Propping himself up on his sword he used the thrust to get to his feet, just in time to bash a charging wolf to the side. Another attacked him from behind, tearing into his leg painfully. Twisting around, he hacked into the wolf's shoulder, cursed his inaccuracy, and had to turn back to fend off a third attacker with his shield. Suddenly dots flashed across his eyes as he felt flesh being torn away from his leg, and he fell forward, onto the dead wolf. Stunned, it was all he could do to block the two wolves near his head as the one near his legs pounced.

Too late, Keth raised his sword to impale the wolf, but was bowled over. His sword cut into the wolf's upper body, but while it yelped in pain, it did not get off of him. Rage and pain swept in to cloud Keth's mind. Without knowing what he was doing, he let go of his sword and grabbed the wolf by the scruff of its neck. With a violent surge, he threw it down onto the ground beside him and rolled to his feet, just barely managing to block the descending muzzles of the other two wolves. Letting out a war cry, Keth drew back his shield arm and slammed it into the side of one wolf's head, knocking it away with the force of his blow and stunning it. As the largest wolf stood up, Keth grabbed his sword and stared into its eyes.

Hackles raised, the two wolves left standing lowered themselves to pounce. Keth drew back his sword arm, waiting. The scent of blood spurred the smaller of the two wolves on first, and it launched itself at Keth with a ferocious snarl. With a loud yell, Keth brought his sword down on the charging wolf's head, splitting its skull in twain, and followed it with a crushing slam from his shield. The larger wolf hardly had time to react as Keth rounded on it, wildly swinging his blade. It dodged to the side of the crazed swings twice and charged, knocking Keth flat again. This time the man knew no fear or mercy - he released his sword, wrapped his shield arm around the wolf's throat, and strangled it against his chest. As the wolf valiantly struggled against his grip, he buried his fingers in its eye sockets, gouging out both eyes, and braced his shield arm with his free hand. The wolf who had been stunned chose this inopportune time to rise again, and leapt in to its brother's assistance, latching onto Keth's bare arm. But he ignored the pain, squeezing ever tighter as the large wolf's struggling subsided. Only when it had sagged against him did he take sword in hand and deal with the last wolf, still somewhat weakened from the previous blow to its head.

There he sat for the better part of an hour, too exhausted to move the dead wolf's head from his lap or even wipe clean his blade. When he did finally regain the energy to stand, he stumbled on his wounded leg. "Damn it," he whispered. Using a nearby fallen branch to support his partially lame leg, Keth slowly hobbled away from the bloody scene, memories of the vicious slaughter already fading from his numbed mind.