The Return of the Not So Wild Rover

[Seth_Bloodmoon]

It had been a bitter, cold winter when the tall elf had first set foot within Myrkenwood and the Dagger. His gaunt, almost sickly form enshrouded within the confines of a heavily travel stained, midnight blue cloak. He had been a fairly pathetic creature at that time, a mere shadow of his former self. For him, his own life had held little to no meaning. The only form of comfort he had been willing to accept was alcohol.

That changed slowly but surely during his time within Myrkenwood. Events, new friends, loathing for what he had let himself become had all eventually pushed him out of his pathetic state of being. Within time he had regained his health, if not more appreciation for his life. No, the long years and events of his past still bore down heavily upon his shoulders. Still, he had gotten past actively seeking his own death in a bottle or upon another's blade, so to speak.

Then events revolving around his own life, his grim past, transpired. The dark god he had once worshipped, then betrayed, had found him once more. Soon enough knights of the order he had once belonged to arrived. Three they had been. Two had been killed in the streets of Myrkentown and their leader nearly so. It was after that fateful encounter that the tall elf had made up his mind to depart Myrken. Without a word he had left for lands unknown.

Now, once more, the tall elf enshrouded in a travel worn midnight blue cloak strode within the land of Myrkenwood. This time, however, he did not arrive in poor health. There was strength in his step and an easy grace. Questions filled his mind. Would there be familiar faces still? Was there a new evil wreaking havoc? What fresh, new Hell did the people of the land possibly face? Myrkenwood did seem to draw the attention of many beings and creatures with ill intentions after all.

Booted feet carried the cloaked figure to the one place he had frequented during his stay in Myrken, the Dagger. When he reached his destination he merely stood in front of the building, twin pools of brilliant blue peering out from the shadowed depths of his cloaks hood. After a moment the hooded head nodded as if answering an unspoken question and then the tall figure strode up the steps to the porch. A gloved hand slipped from the folds of the cloak as he neared the door, rising to pull it open thus allowing him entrance within.

Without hesitation he passed through the threshold, allowing the door to close behind him as his hand then moved to push back the hood of his cloak. With that single motion, fine elven features were revealed, set in an unreadable expression. Long, silver hair was brought to light as well, drawn back in a simple ponytail to keep stray locks from falling across his face. Brilliant blue eyes swept over the commonroom as his hand then fell to rest casually over the pommel of the sheathed longsword at his left side. Seth of Clan Bloodmoon had found his way back, finally.