Elk Vale

Elk vale

The Glimmen. A huge wood in which the trees grew to an unimaginable size, they grew so wide that eight men couldn’t hug round one, they grew so tall that you couldn’t see the top. The Glimmen was a fascination, one of the real wonders of the world. Though amazing as it was it was dangerous. Every one that came here perished. Among the trees hid vicious beasts. Some so hideously terrifying that even an army of Evokers would be petrified within a night of being here, and dead within two. Wyrms, Centaurs, Chupacabras, Yerenians, Elementals, Ogres an other dangerous beings occupy the great wood in the day, though terrifying, these species are not the worst of The Glimmen’s residents. For at night far worse beasties come out. Wild Bred Methuselah (vampires), Lycanthropes (werewolves), Phantoms, Ghouls, Daemons and an increasing number of Balverines.
Elk Vale was a small village in the heart of the Glimmen, it was built entirely of carved wood, around the outside of the village there was a huge fifteen foot wall built of tree trunks sharpened at the top to keep out most of the nightmares of the wood. A platform ran around the inside of the wall near the top for the villages guards to patrol around, there was only one known entrance and exit to the village, and that was the huge gate at the bottom of the village, it was about twelve feet tall and had a guard post outside of it with the gate keeper inside, he made sure everyone that came in was living and wouldn’t cause any trouble. Four archers were posted above the gate, as security. The village was all built of wood because it was the only resource around, huge carved oak pillars held up all the buildings, instead of roofs the building’s shelter was made up of huge thick canvas with tribal imprints on them.
All was peaceful in Elk vale, the moon was full in the sky, the gentle breeze forming the trees into calming instruments. The sky was cloudless and the stars sparkled in the night. Quinlan Oren stood at his post, letting the soft wind wrap his face in calm. He was in his mid forties and was large and muscular. He had kind green eyes, a thick full beard, and shoulder length brown hair loosely braided. He kept one hand on his wide iron sword. His thick leather armor fit perfectly over his well chiseled body. He stood at his post, it was nearly midnight and his shift was nearly over. He brought his weathered hands up to his face and breathed into them, his breath came out as steam and dispersed into the night. Through his misty breath Oren saw movement, he focused his eyes and saw the silhouette of a man on horseback. Oren’s hand immediately went to the hilt of his sword, and he stepped cautiously out of his cabin. He stood in front of the gate and called out to the figure.
“hello stranger, what business do you have here in Elk Vale?”
The stranger stopped his horse ten paces away from the guard, the two huge torches immediately flooded the stranger in a warm glow, which gave Oren his first good look at the figure in front of him. He was very slight, a dark red cowl covered his face, his cloak flapped behind him accompanying the trees’ swishing, his armor was of an old leather with one plated shoulder, buckles and straps wrapped around him like snakes, obviously concealing weapons of some kind, a huge belt with a emerald centre held up his huge baggy karats, huge baggy trousers made of a light cloth. Something large was wrapped in a thick cloth, no doubt a weapon, it was nearly as tall as he was but he carried it as if it was one of Garuda’s feathers.
Some time passed until Oren talked again, “you know, it’s dangerous out here alone, now why have you come to Elk Vale” despite his impatience Oren kept his tone friendly. The stranger ignored Oren and commanded his horse forward, and Oren stepped forward authoritatively, not aggressively. The horse stopped and the winds seemed to pick up, he slid quickly from his horse and landed without making a sound. The winds blew more ferociously, Oren drew his sword and readied himself. The stranger put up his hand and darted forward. Oren felt a shock in his chest and the next thing he knew he was hurtling back, he smashed hardly into his small cabin, the wood cracked around him embedding him in the wreckage. He couldn’t move. This thing had just threw him thirty paces with a touch, even for a mage that was immensely powerful. What was that power. As if in answer to his question the figure stood by him and whispered in a raspy voice
“Anger is a gift” and his features dispersed into a black mist. Unable to keep a hold on consciousness Oren slumped and blacked out. Cowan Dow made hi way to the main gate, he had heard a commotion and it was his shift he was walking along a path when he heard something, he heard heavy breathing. It was coming from the gate, he made his way over cautiously. He reached the gate and slid open the peephole, he looked through and saw a thin hooded man. He only got a quick glance before the stranger rocked back with a fist raised then carelessly swung forward. His fist hit the foot thick gate, sending huge cracks splitting the wood. He rocked back, swung forward and hit the gate again, the cracks widened he punched three more times and the once strong gate had a gaping hole in the middle, a guard lay on the floor ten paces away, trying to move get up, Utter confusion on his face.