Thorain Toradur, Precipice of Change

Thorain laid upon the ground of the Staglord's acquisitioned keep, his rich dark blood warming the thick stones beneath him. The Staglord's arrow was burried deep in his chest an d it was clear to Thorain that if not treated soon, he would die. The battle raged on about him, he saw Gren's figure approach, fending off the hulking brute that was about to bash in Thorain's head. Thank goodness, he needed the help. Slowly Thorain drifted away from the material plane...into the realm of visions and dreams, between waking life and death.

He soared high above the Greenbelt, the wind cleaned the feeling of death from his feathers leaving Thorain refreshed. When he had first entered this land he had found it oppressive, barren of goodness and filled with the stink of trolls. Now the Greenbelt changed it's appearance. No longer a frightful wilderness, it opened up and offered new opportunities, chief amongst them, the opportunity of freedom. He was shunned by some elves in his home land for his appearance, and by others for his queer ambitious nature, not natural to most elves. But here in this land, none knew what he was supposed to be, and if they knew, they didn't care.

He looked down across the land and began to see "home" among the clusters of trees. The keep, rebuilt looked majestic, newly woven banners snapping in the crisp wind. The rivers ran clear and wild, nourishing the realm, free of evil, free of the oppressive taint of civilization. But they would come. Humans spread across the realm "taming" it wherever they could. Stupid. The land tamed them. It told them where to live and gave them what they needed to live. But they would slowly ruin it. Thorain knew that he could not stop them, they would colonize the greenbelt soon, so, he would simply have to ensure that it was done properly. Instill the correct beliefs in people and perhaps this land would survive where others would have surely failed.

He soared over the land that he hoped to finally call home. Or at least for a time; a wood elf never stays in one place for too long before the winds call them to a new home.

"Thorain!"

"Thorain get up!"

Gren's voice; the paladin had saved his life. Good, there was still much to fight for.