Cynraede

"Is he really going to be there? The Cardanith?" 

"You've yet returned, my student?" The lithe figure clasped his hands together as he peered over the man that stood before him, clad in a tattered crimson hood and shoulder wrap. His trappings worn and weathered, clearly having seen better days but one object stood out from all the others. A shimmering brooch pinned upon his breast.

Cynraede stood atop one of the many green, rolling hills of the Northern lands. The town of Dale lay just before him and within its walls, hopefully the faces of old friends and loved ones. His coal colored hair pulled back loosely into a wild pony tail with the remainder sprawling about his shoulders as locks of his mane billowed gently in the soft winds that graced the landscape. 

Screams and the ringing of an anvil filled the halls of the citadel as Cerythael and Pellam watched The Hunter work the fire and forge for the undoing of the strange blade he had been given by The Grandmaster. 

"Who is he speaking to?"  Inquired Pellam, who looked over to Cerythael rather confused.

The man sat upon a stone, pipe between his lips that loosed wispy clouds of cherry tobacco. Softly humming as he flipped the sizzling bacon on the skillet, looking over to his companion. A bear of a man, hair a dulled silver but yet his face hadn't seen more than thirty winters. Several markings decorated his face, most notably a band of blue runes reaching from cheek bone to cheek bone, bridging over his nose.

The ice crunched underneath his foot, Her words echoing softly in his head. "Your heart bears enought light to brighten even the darkest of days. Go forth, and make them fear the night." 

"Valour. Possessing the courage to face all challenges with a resolute and morale heart. It is important that bravery and courage should not be confused with pride. Bravery and courage are necessary to Identify and achieve life goals and the setbacks that surround them... This, was the first lesson I learned." 

The soft breeze rustled the leaves off the tall trees in the small village of Arrowhaven, the grass waving in its gentle wake. The stone walk way had been freshly swept it seemed, not a speck of dirt on its surface.

The hunter walked across the pathway, his boots quietly thumping across the stone. His gait was swift as he cradled the quiver of arrows he had plucked from the goblin corpses. He carefully reached for the knob and gave it a twist, opening the door and walking inside with pause.

The small, dark haired child ran along with the elven children that played in the grass. The group laughed and giggled as the sun shone down on the field of grass, making the all but one of the children's hair seemingly shine in the brilliant light. 

A few adults stood by, watching the children closely as they played, though there was a set of keen eyes that watched one in particular. He was dark haired, and tall for his age, it was clear he was human, a descendant from the west.