L Most people would agree that it was not wise to interfere in the affairs of mage slavers, but when those slavers chased an elf through the forest it did not matter to the Hunter what they were capable of. Tevinter had enslaved the elves after the fall of Arlathan, and hadn’t stopped since. It sickened him. These humans who thought they could take people away from their lives and force them to do their will. Someone had to stop them, and if that someone had to be the Hero of Ferelden then so be it.
He raced through the forest with them. He stayed at a distance for now as he tried to formulate a plan. Dweomer runes were etched into his daggers and his armor. He held a healthy respect for magic, and the damages it could do. It wouldn’t be enough to protect him if he drew too much attention however.
Beo’s voice entered his thoughts like a faint whisper. The black wolf chased after the hunter on the other side of the forest. They stalked their prey together always.
“We have to distract them Fen’Falon. If we separate them and catch them by surprise we can win.”
The wolf didn’t answer in his head his time, instead he howled. The sound echoed throughout the forest. After a few moments the howl was followed by screams and loud shouting. It was then that the hunter burst into action.
He broke into a sprint making his way toward the slaver’s party then. He pulled his bow from his shoulder before quickly notching an arrow into it.
He had to move quickly least his companion be harmed. With little hesitation he fired his first arrow, striking an unsuspecting mage in the back. He quickly drew another arrow preparing to strike again, but by the time the first mage fell, the others realized that they were under attack.
A second arrow flew and this time one of the warriors that accompanied the mages was stricken and fell.
By then the battle had already begun.
Escaping from her Master had taken years of preparations. Sylvanas had always been watched carefully. She had been raised up to be as important as a slave could be in Tevinter to a Master because of her talent with magic, with necromancy. In that time her anger and bitterness for the system grew until those were the only emotions that could inhabit her body. She would take revenge on the cruel man that held a tight grip on her leash. Though first, she needed to escape.
The humans that chased her through the forest were heavy footed. Giants stomping around where they didn’t belong where she was lithe and quick, this was her domain. Sylvanas had run out of mana so her magic was useless at the moment. Until her mana reserves refilled. Dodging spells was growing tiring as well.
Just as she sent a silent plea to Mythal a howl echoed around her causing a chill to run down her spine. Her feet quickly came to a halt and she turned to see one of the men being attacked by a wolf before an arrow took out another. Someone was distracting them --- now would be her best shot at getting away but as she watched the Elf come through the trees she knew she couldn’t leave him deal with her fight.
A curse is said through clenched teeth and she moves towards the group of men she was just running from. She was still weak, couldn’t do much but perhaps --- pulling on her mana reserves she feels her magic pulling at the bodies around her, the veil stretching thinner. Two more fall before she lets loose her spell and they, along with the first mage, rise back up, undead and under her control. They turn to fight their once comrades as she falls to one knee, panting and even more weak than before. Hopefully that would be enough, hopefully the Elf and his wolf could take down what her horrors couldn’t.
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