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Old 08-19-2010, 07:13 AM   #3
DeadYorick
The Keeper of Peace
 
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Join Date: Apr 2006
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,275
Current Game: Pheonix Wright
((I hope Ty doesn`t want Archon to edit.))



If he had to name one thing in particular Cairn enjoyed the most about Ferelden would have to be it`s trees.

Not the quality in what he remembered during his childhood could be attributed toward this. Such as easy to climb stature, or something along the lines of that. Nay, even the Sylvans rarely payed too much attention to him climbing their trunks. But, the principle thing he enjoyed in a tree now were it`s branches. Specifically their gnarled features in which he could hide himself.

Darkspawn were a tricky game for the elf. Contrary to the tales he heard of them as a child, they were not a roaming demonic dwarven problem. Rather, they proved quite the challenge the first time he had seen them, in the Brecilian Forest. Cairn had taken to setting simplistic ``traps`` if they could be called that. Really, they were more set up to alert him of whatever he hunted. This worked on Werewolves before, but not on Darkspawn. He still remembered the scars received during the battle that followed.

This encounter he suspected would just be the first of many, and through his paranoid mind the idea of simply watching a band of Orlesian soldiers.

He had heard of the recent trials and tribulations occurring within the government of Ferelden. During the odd chance he would find himself wandering through a town big enough to have a tavern. Even then it was hard to search through the bias illiterate farmers tended to have. In the end throughout all this he did eventually manage to find one. It wasn`t that hard considering the Darkspawn corpses littering the ground around their campsite. Likewise it particularly easy to climb a tree and inspect as he so pleased.

This went well for several hours, the day nestled into the night, and he observed the campsite carefully. When the drunken foray into foolishness did occur as expected, Cairn felt his motivation of simple thievery start to subside. Shortly after the only female of the band walked off, he suspected for firewood or something similar, he heard noises surrounding the campsite.

"Hey Brythe, whazzat sound? It sounds familiar..." Cairn heard it as well, a twig snapping just underneath his tree in fact. Paranoia gripped the elf for a few short seconds, as he grabbed the dagger sheathed at his waist. The dagger he rarely found a use for in combat. Before long the panicking started with the rest of the group.

"Shut it...Can't talk and vomit...*Bluuureh*...At the same time!" The act of repulsion calmed Cairn down for a few short seconds, and his breathing lowered to a steady inaudible pace.

"Do you hear laughing, Brythe?" That was surprising to Cairn, something he didn`t hear. A tear of sweat drizzled down his neck as he held the dagger out fully in front of him. He didn`t have a chance to react as he heard one of the soldier`s scream.

"Quiet you two! There's something in the..." Cairn watched as one of the less experienced soldiers stood up, drawing his claymore. Walking out of the lit sanctuary of the camp. His footsteps stopped abruptly as he screamed once more. "Andraste!!! Dar-aaaaAAAAAHHHHhhh..." and before he knew it, Darkspawn poured out of the trees around him. So many Cairn could barely see the ground anymore, much less the soldiers now butchered. The amount of time he spent stalking rabbits by hiding in trees he felt payed off. In some horrific and surreal way. Cairn watched on as the Darkspawn continued to kill, and observed one in particular gripping both a mace and a sword. He observed as it stood over one of his fallen comrades, killed by one of the actually alert soldiers. With no possible idea of escape coming to mind. Cairn waited, his dagger in his hand, observing the Darkspawn. He did not have enough room to unsheathe his bow without giving away his entire position.


"There's gotta be a better way to make a living"
-Kyle Katarn

Last edited by DeadYorick; 08-19-2010 at 07:21 AM.
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