Chapter One
His hands were freezing. Cold—So cold, he could feel his joints squeak and creak, like a tiny groan beneath his skin. He didn't know where he was, or how he even got to here. What he did know was his name and age, and nothing much past that. There was no snow, but the winds were picking up, and he needed to find out where he was and who could help him. As the hills sank, the rough, dirt path dipping, the roads became cobblestone, homes coming into view over a large stone wall before disappearing behind said wall as he descended the path. On his way past the gate, he accidentally walked into an orc who just shoved past, bumping his shoulder. The man grumbled something he didn't quite understand.
He felt an urge to speak up and demand respect but...he simply couldn't. He stayed there, still, before deciding perhaps it just wasn't worth it. His stomach was tight and aching from hunger pangs. His red eyes scanned the area, his weak, heavy legs laboriously carrying his equally weak body through the dim streets. He wrapped himself in his cloak, shivering. The heavy winds were picking up, and signs flapped in the winds, hung by their chains. He squinted to get a better look at one of the signs that caught his eye. 'TAV...TAVERN'! Thank the gods. He was starving, but he felt his pockets, and they were empty. Right...No money. Oh well, he would survive without food for a time.
This weather—Not so much. He pushed the door open, and the immediate rush of warm air over him settled his bones. No one was in this tavern, strangely enough. Which was odd since taverns are typically fullest with bustling patrons when it's late. He sat at one of the empty tables, a small frown making its way to his blue lips. He squeezed one of his ears in his hand, feeling how cold they were. If he didn't know any better, he'd have half expected them to fall off. Get your self together Avoroth. You have to. Have to...What exactly? He wasn't sure what even kept him going at this point. How could a Drow just simply forget seventy plus years of their life at random? Hells, he didn't even know if it was random. Maybe someone put a spell on him? An evil sorcerer? A hag? Who could really say? Perhaps that was the hunger talking.
Suddenly, a hand planted itself on his shoulder and nearly made him jump out of his skin. He let out a sharp gasp and looked back at who could be touching him. His bug-eyed gaze softened when he realised it was just what looked to be the barkeep. A Wood Elf, no doubt. Long pointy ears, chestnut skin, dark brown hair, and yellow eyes. She was gorgeous. Her features were soft, but it was clear that behind that apron there was some serious strength and muscle.
