[h3][color=000000][b]Archenos Pinesorrow[/b][/color][/h3]


[color=f9ad81]“You there! Stop.”[/color] Exclaimed the shorter of the two guards, a brutish elbow wedged in his back by his fellow man at arms. Waving his sword in front of his nose as if to hypnotise himself away from the situation, the young trainee, who could be no more than eighteen, took a few brief and heavy steps towards Archenos in his over sized iron boots.

His eyes flickered as the ebs of a dying flame do in the soft breeze of night, looking painfully over every inch of danger that the man before him presented. The tip of his nose shivered along with his soft bottom lip, the night air driving cold past his stalwart and chattering white teeth.

[color=f9ad81]“Who-o are you? What’s your busi-iness?”[/color] The boy pressed cautiously past the boundaries of his position so far, the swaying blade of his sword slowly coming to rest by his side. He stared up into the empty mass of shining steel as if he expected the armour itself to speak forth from its breast plate, a face to appear upon the faultless smithwork. 

Such a frail opponent, unworthy of Archenos’ effort, an execution rather than a duel. However, the child-guard was shadowed by an elderly man, large in every aspect, including his wide coniferous eyebrows and mountainous nose. This one held his mace by his side in a forward grip, fingers pressed against the shaft for a rapid response and alteration of stance. Even still, the night was long and Archenos was insistent upon himself that he should make the city by sunrise.

[color=7bcdc8]“I am Archenos Pinesorrow, The Fallen.”[/color] He replied, his words dropping slowly to the ground in a thick mist.

[color=8882be]“Pinesorrow... Elf then are you?”[/color] The older guard spoke for the first time, the deep metallic tones Archenos expected thwarted by a higher, broken glass pitch.

[color=7bcdc8]“That I am,”[/color] Archenos nodded, a tempered lowering of the head to distract from the fact that he glanced to the tower from within his helm. The iron helm was now lifted from the sleeping eyes, the sights of a crossbow risen to furrowed brow.

[color=f9ad81]“Fallen, what, why do they - they call you that?”[/color] The boy asked, his alerted posture exchanged for that of a disciplined child.

[color=7bcdc8]“I cannot say. It isn’t something I ask when I fell my enemies.”[/color] Archenos answered plainly, but simultaneously lowered his hands to his sides, leaving Vein Drainer to sit in its sheath for now.

[color=fff79a]“We aren’t scared of you!”[/color] Shouted the guard from atop the tower, his feet adjusting as he lifted the crossbow closer to his chest. His voice stated the contrary to his assertion of courage, as did his need to exclaim at all.

[color=7bcdc8]“No? Perhaps not...though, should you hold that bolt in my direction any longer, your companions before me may have reason to,”[/color] Archenos held the gaze of the boy and old man, waiting for the crack of the crossbow to resonate around him, a crystalline ball of ice sprouting like fungus in his palm.