The crackle and warmth of the fire usually would calm you, but on the road in the middle of the forest, that's not so tonight. It doesn't change a thing though, for you. You're still here, and you must still get where you were going to get to. It would be peaceful tonight, were it not so cold, despite the fire. Bundling yourself up in a quilt doesn't help either. Sounds coming from the forest remind you just how alone you are right now. You haven't seen the face of another person in days, and the nearest city, which is where you're off to, is still three days' ride off. You slowly come to the realization of what the sounds from the forest are, though. Shouting. Human shouting. A shout and a swear comes, once more. Dropping your quilt, you set off toward the shouting, the curiosity getting to you. Inhuman growls and human shouts and grunts continue to …show more content…
One is pale, a bit short, and has... black markings covering his skin, like tribal tattoos bore into the flesh, covering his whole body. Meaning he's a Xiliavi. A race of people everyone you know says is evil, the spawn of demons. That man is me. I stand at about 5'9. I have short, messy black hair, and bright blue eyes. I have a strong jaw, very pale skin, and I'm thin, but there's corded muscle in my arms. I'm wearing a plain, reddish shirt (now stained darker in some spots with blood, and torn some), brown pants and heavy black boots. In my right hand I wield a strangely-built sword, about the length of your average arming sword, but wider, and more so near the end of the blade. My left hand is clenched in a fist, the sword held just above my shoulder on the opposite side, ready to strike. The other man is taller than me, but thinner, and less muscular. He's got tanned skin, hair the colour of salt and pepper, and bright yellow eyes. He holds a slightly shortened boar spear in both hands, but keeps it close to his body while he moves, the wide steel head still, several inches above his