Windfall (Causeway / oyzar)

On an island, in a forest, near sunset, there was a figure running through the underbrush. An elf, blonde, with light armor and a cold iron sword, pushed through the growth with all the strength he could muster. He no longer saw or heard... it... But that did not mean it wasn't still pursuing him...

Elendil Ganduriel was confused. He knew he was somewhere on Windfall and he could dimly remember something called High Rock. Was it a village he remembered? He had come here to... To do what? He couldn't remember. What mattered now was his current situation, he had to get away. Get away from...

The links of Elandil's chain shirt clinked as he ran, the failing rays of the falling sun reflecting of the shiny metal armor. Thankfully the the shirt was rather light, his sword was just a rapier and he didn't have a heavy pack. Elandil was not a strong man, but he could barely carry what he had with him without his movement getting slowed. Running over long distances was not his forte though, he was more of a sprinter. His breathing was heavy and he could feel sweat running down his forehead.

Flashes of memory came to him as he ran. There had been other people right? He could barely remember. Elandil didn't think he had come here alone, but he couldn't even remember their faces. What had happened to him? He was alive and he would do his best to stay that way. He could figure out the rest later.

As he ran, the elf remembered short snippets of history, like pages in a ruined book, sorted through. An old man with a scar... a deep cave with glowing blue-green mushrooms, sahuagin, a dreadful doorway... His memory faltered there. He knew something had happened afterwards, screams of terror and pain, madness and nightmares come alive....

He knew two things though: The first was that all of his companions were dead. The second was that he was Marked. Something had singled him out for being there, and would not leave him be. He had to keep running...

Elandil could feel the blood thudding in his ears as he ran. He looked around as he ran. He realized he couldn't blindly run forever. He needed a plan. Where was he?

As the elf ran through the thick forest, he noticed that it was beginning to thin.

Perception:


In the distance, he thought he saw a small farm. Did he seek refuge there, at the risk of bringing whatever calamity haunted him to its inhabitants?

Elandil didn't think hiding would solve the problem, but maybe he could aquire a horse to get away faster or at least ask for directions there. He decided to head for the farm either way, if nothing else it would lead him closer to the road.

He thought it was sad that all his companions were dead, yet he did not cry. He was used to bad things happening to him. All good things must come to an end. As long as he lived at least there was hope for him.

As Elandil came into sight of the farmhouse, the sense of urgency about him diminished, and fatigue set in. He came to believe that he had time to rest. Whatever was after him, was not here now. He hadn't lost it, but this could be a safe place to rest...

As he approached, a figure emerged from the barn. She was a young woman, in her late teens to early twenties likely, and very pleasant on the eyes. Her plain milkmaid's dress accentuated her creamy skin, fair hair and ample bosom. "Hello, stranger," she says in a pleasant if somewhat confused voice. "What brings you here to my family's farm?"