nooberoob
Loyal Servant of Altera
Name: Rowan Silentfoot
Nickname/ Alias: Silentfoot
Age: 444 years
Gender: male
Race: Northern Wood Elf
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 196 lbs.
Hair: Light Brown
Eyes: Dark Brown
Skin: Cream/ Tan
Identifying Marks: Long, five inch scar down right jaw.
Appearance: Tall, Muscular
Strengths: Covert operations, stalking, hunting, silent maneuverings
Weaknesses and Fears: Spiders, Hell-Dwellers (More of a hatred), weaknesses: Cannot hear out of left ear as well as right.
Religion and Cults: No notable religion
Profession: Assassin, Bandit, Captain of the Protarian Army, Co-owner to the Great City of Protaras.
My name is Rowan Silentfoot. I am an elf who was born into a small family long ago. You may think of my as old, yet for an Elf, I am young. My father worked as the village blacksmith and was constantly weaving spells and metal together to create weapons of pain and suffering. Though he was never around much, his profession led us to gain wealth. We were a happy family, my Mother, Father and I. I would help my father to heat swords sometimes, but most of the time, I ended up wandering the forest aimlessly, learning all it could tell and trying to find its’ secrets. When I came of age I was inducted into the Elven army. Most of my friends had been too, so we endured ten years of hard training together. My friends were siphoned off into their respective classes, so that only me and by some twist of fate, my best friend Ryuan remained. Our Captain told us one day, that we were to be trained as assassins, and that the Commander had deemed us fit to. So then I endured ten more long and brutal years of training. We had become the best there was, Strong, silent, agile, nimble, and excellent spell-casters. We were finally ready for our missions. At the time a great war had been raging between the Dwellers of Hell, and our race. We had been fighting a long time and slowly pushing the demons back to their hell-holes. Our job was to assassinate their officers as to lower their morale. We infiltrated countless strongholds, and slayed countless demons, but one mission in particular would stand out to me most. It was a silent night; we were stationed on a hill along with the other fifteen assassins. Ryuan on my left, Dractul Motban on my right. I hadn’t gotten to know Dractul very well, we were always so busy. All I could do was to trust him, and hope we both didn’t die. Someone sounded the signal and we began our silent descent down the hill. All was going according to plan when one of the enemy mages turned around and looked directly at me. My heart stopped. He then turned to Dractul and nodded. My heart stopped again. Dractul turned and fired curse after curse into our midst. I lunged at the black-hearted; hell-dweller traitor and my sword caught him in the stomach. He dry-heaved several times, and then in horror I watched as he pulled himself off the sword and stared straight at me. The sword had no blood on it, and neither did he. A curse whistled past my head and struck him full on in the face. He flew fifty feet backwards and landed with a dull thump. Then, again to my horror, he got back up, his face burnt beyond recognition. He charged the nearest fighter to him, Ryuan. His sword had been drawn and he thrust it deep into Ryuan’s chest. I had seen death before, but not like this. Ryuan hadn’t had a chance. He had been stabbed from behind, straight through his heart. The Traitor laughed maniacally, and turned for me. He lunged almost mechanically and I parried his blade with mine. This caused him to slide sideways and almost hit a nearby tree. His clumsiness was odd, I had never known Dractul to be that clumsy, and it was then I realized it. The mage who had nodded was standing several yards away, his mouth foaming, and his eyes showing white. Dractul was being possessed. The mage inside him sensed my distraction and struck. His blade came directly for my head, and I only had time to pull off a clumsy parry, that sent the blade into my jaw bone, with such force that my vision blurred. My head spun with white-hot pain, and I felt cold, and dead. I stabbed again and again at the possessed assassin, but to no avail. I finally admitted defeat, but feinted my incapacity to fight. I slumped to the ground in the direction of the mage, who didn’t realize my intentions at the time. Dractul came forward to take me while on the ground, only a coward’s way I thought. And as he struck I pulled up my sword and locked his hit with mine, causing him to lurch forward at the unexpected attack, and onto my blade again. This time as he struggled to pull out the blade I dashed at the Mage with his blade, and thrust it deep into his neck. The mage writhed and slithered on my blade. His limbs disintegrated into black shadow, and he fell off the sword, in a sizzling and popping could of smoke and ash. Dractul did nearly the same. This body withered and wriggled, and then he was still. Blood squirted from his wounds once more, and all was silent.
It took me a moment to really comprehend the outcome. I stood there looking dumbfounded. I gazed around me at my fellow assassins, and they too looked like hell. My eyes fell across Ryuan’s body and my sword fell to the ground. In seconds I was kneeling beside him. His life had long-gone, but I still kneeled there looking into his blue eyes, with hot tears streaming down my face. This was the first time I had ever truly cried. Not even as an infant had I cried like this. It was a terrible sorrow, to live on, when he could not. And it is a burden I carry with me to this day. I left the land after attending Ryuan’s funeral. It was a funeral of great magnitude, one like no other I had ever attended. It is a terrible thing when an Elf dies, for it is such a rare occasion. From this land I left, to find a new world, one by the name of, “Hollowworld.” It was here that I met my new brother sushi23. A brother of bond, not blood and many adventures awaited us in this new land. It is there I reside today, and it is there I call Home.
Nickname/ Alias: Silentfoot
Age: 444 years
Gender: male
Race: Northern Wood Elf
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 196 lbs.
Hair: Light Brown
Eyes: Dark Brown
Skin: Cream/ Tan
Identifying Marks: Long, five inch scar down right jaw.
Appearance: Tall, Muscular
Strengths: Covert operations, stalking, hunting, silent maneuverings
Weaknesses and Fears: Spiders, Hell-Dwellers (More of a hatred), weaknesses: Cannot hear out of left ear as well as right.
Religion and Cults: No notable religion
Profession: Assassin, Bandit, Captain of the Protarian Army, Co-owner to the Great City of Protaras.
My name is Rowan Silentfoot. I am an elf who was born into a small family long ago. You may think of my as old, yet for an Elf, I am young. My father worked as the village blacksmith and was constantly weaving spells and metal together to create weapons of pain and suffering. Though he was never around much, his profession led us to gain wealth. We were a happy family, my Mother, Father and I. I would help my father to heat swords sometimes, but most of the time, I ended up wandering the forest aimlessly, learning all it could tell and trying to find its’ secrets. When I came of age I was inducted into the Elven army. Most of my friends had been too, so we endured ten years of hard training together. My friends were siphoned off into their respective classes, so that only me and by some twist of fate, my best friend Ryuan remained. Our Captain told us one day, that we were to be trained as assassins, and that the Commander had deemed us fit to. So then I endured ten more long and brutal years of training. We had become the best there was, Strong, silent, agile, nimble, and excellent spell-casters. We were finally ready for our missions. At the time a great war had been raging between the Dwellers of Hell, and our race. We had been fighting a long time and slowly pushing the demons back to their hell-holes. Our job was to assassinate their officers as to lower their morale. We infiltrated countless strongholds, and slayed countless demons, but one mission in particular would stand out to me most. It was a silent night; we were stationed on a hill along with the other fifteen assassins. Ryuan on my left, Dractul Motban on my right. I hadn’t gotten to know Dractul very well, we were always so busy. All I could do was to trust him, and hope we both didn’t die. Someone sounded the signal and we began our silent descent down the hill. All was going according to plan when one of the enemy mages turned around and looked directly at me. My heart stopped. He then turned to Dractul and nodded. My heart stopped again. Dractul turned and fired curse after curse into our midst. I lunged at the black-hearted; hell-dweller traitor and my sword caught him in the stomach. He dry-heaved several times, and then in horror I watched as he pulled himself off the sword and stared straight at me. The sword had no blood on it, and neither did he. A curse whistled past my head and struck him full on in the face. He flew fifty feet backwards and landed with a dull thump. Then, again to my horror, he got back up, his face burnt beyond recognition. He charged the nearest fighter to him, Ryuan. His sword had been drawn and he thrust it deep into Ryuan’s chest. I had seen death before, but not like this. Ryuan hadn’t had a chance. He had been stabbed from behind, straight through his heart. The Traitor laughed maniacally, and turned for me. He lunged almost mechanically and I parried his blade with mine. This caused him to slide sideways and almost hit a nearby tree. His clumsiness was odd, I had never known Dractul to be that clumsy, and it was then I realized it. The mage who had nodded was standing several yards away, his mouth foaming, and his eyes showing white. Dractul was being possessed. The mage inside him sensed my distraction and struck. His blade came directly for my head, and I only had time to pull off a clumsy parry, that sent the blade into my jaw bone, with such force that my vision blurred. My head spun with white-hot pain, and I felt cold, and dead. I stabbed again and again at the possessed assassin, but to no avail. I finally admitted defeat, but feinted my incapacity to fight. I slumped to the ground in the direction of the mage, who didn’t realize my intentions at the time. Dractul came forward to take me while on the ground, only a coward’s way I thought. And as he struck I pulled up my sword and locked his hit with mine, causing him to lurch forward at the unexpected attack, and onto my blade again. This time as he struggled to pull out the blade I dashed at the Mage with his blade, and thrust it deep into his neck. The mage writhed and slithered on my blade. His limbs disintegrated into black shadow, and he fell off the sword, in a sizzling and popping could of smoke and ash. Dractul did nearly the same. This body withered and wriggled, and then he was still. Blood squirted from his wounds once more, and all was silent.
It took me a moment to really comprehend the outcome. I stood there looking dumbfounded. I gazed around me at my fellow assassins, and they too looked like hell. My eyes fell across Ryuan’s body and my sword fell to the ground. In seconds I was kneeling beside him. His life had long-gone, but I still kneeled there looking into his blue eyes, with hot tears streaming down my face. This was the first time I had ever truly cried. Not even as an infant had I cried like this. It was a terrible sorrow, to live on, when he could not. And it is a burden I carry with me to this day. I left the land after attending Ryuan’s funeral. It was a funeral of great magnitude, one like no other I had ever attended. It is a terrible thing when an Elf dies, for it is such a rare occasion. From this land I left, to find a new world, one by the name of, “Hollowworld.” It was here that I met my new brother sushi23. A brother of bond, not blood and many adventures awaited us in this new land. It is there I reside today, and it is there I call Home.
