Not In Blood But In Arms

"Sometimes, the differences between us is what keeps us alive... - Zale Swordstern

Some believe in fate, others in luck, but the easiest explentation I can give you is that the gods have an interesting sense of humor.

It often turns out that your weaknesses become your strengths, your enemies your friends, and when you find your faith crumbling, those you hate may save your soul. Such is the story of a prideful Half-elf...

The only sound that could be carried accross the rapidly dissapering vally was the soft crackle and crunch of padded feet in the first snow of the season. A single tall figure traveled gracefully, stride by stride, through the new drifts. He traveled alone, always alone. So much went on in the solitude of the young halh-elf's mind that interuption or inquaries would be undisirable.

His legs carried him to wherever he sought, though his mind stayed eternally lost contemplating one possiblility after another, brooding on a bitterness, cursing his heritage. He pointed his nose south and so his legs followed. The snow drifts becoming less surmountable as the trek persisted.

For now he knew not where exactly he was going just that he wanted to get out of this dreadful cold. Finally a snow mound yeilded something other than another. The young Half-elf found himself looking down on a tiny village nestled up against the white woods, the small beared pines giving the sad looking cabins some shelter from the biting cold.

Though very small the cabins offered a warm glow from shuttered windows that was for at least some part inviting. The largest cabin, adorned with the sign "Inn" would be a far better stopping place than was originally expected. 1

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