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As of today Fabeth lives on her own as a scout in the northern forest near Trolenda. She does what she does because she wants to, not because she has to. She follows her own heart, no one else’s. No man ever claimed the heart of Fabeth SpiritDove.
Deep inside Fabeth longed for love. But nobody was perfect, nobody came near her standards. She loved to travel, loved to be on the move. She loved to live and was going to live till the end. No man or creature would stop her. The only way to stop her was death itself.
But still, she longed for someone who would be the same as her and live as long as her. Humans were very short lived; dwarfs were just too ugly for her and they loved the underground, not nature. As for gnomes and halflings, that was out of the question. And for her own kind, there were just to few, and she knew them all pretty much. The elfs did not win their battles in numbers, but with the mind. One elf could defeat ten goblins better then one or even two humans could.
She did live among all the good races. Once in a great while, at least once a year, she had some type of news for someone somewhere. Normally some orc band was on the move, or a caravan was robbed on its way to any other side for trade.
Sometimes she would stop a caravan robbery just because she couldn’t bear to watch it happen. She would shoot her arrows as silent as her steps, you wouldn’t know it was coming for you until it had already impaled itself into your body. By then it was too late, and you were dead.
She always hit her mark, very rarely did she miss. Even in high winds, her arrow would still hit its target. Not only was she great with her bow, but she was a master of swords. She used very light swords made of a metal only known to the deep gnomes. She was awarded it from a caravan of gnomes she had saved. It really wasn’t much of a fight, just an over sized giant picking on the weaker and smaller, like they always do. She just simply hit it in the back of the head with an arrow. The giant never saw it coming.
The metal was known to the gnomes as Fernda. It was very light and very strong. Almost as strong as diamonds, and much easier to craft. The name, she was told, was called Fernda because of the light green tent the metal had. It had the color of the forest trees almost, and proved a great ally in battle.
One day Fabeth was walking in the woods heading south. She had no plans really, was just walking around the forest talking to some of the animals as she passed. One bird told her there was a new band of orcs to the south west. She sat off, to the south west. The trip would take her at least two days, maybe more.
On the first day, the trip was easy and nothing crossed her path. There wasn’t much that would cross her path anyways; she had ridded the land of most of the creatures. But still there was always a threat of something or someone.
She made camp under a few trees near a stream. The sound of the water was very soothing. She slept gratefully and undisturbed. That night she had dreams, dreams of the future. The future of love, and a life of real meaning. A life of her own.
The second day was just as quick as the first. Nothing crossed her path but a few animals. She stopped to talk to them to see if she could learn anything else about the upcoming events.
She talked to a Robin and asked him if he could check on the orcs. In return she would pay the little red bird with a handful of seeds and life long friendship.
The bird reported very little. The orcs were restless but lazy at the same time. They didn’t move, they lay around there camp sleeping and drinking beer they had plundered.
That night she found a little cave in the side of a hill. It was a shallow cave but comforting. There was a bear within the cave, asleep in the back. She walked right up to the bear and talked to him. The bear was very nice and showed no aggression in sharing the cave with her for the night. The bear would like some company anyways; it had been a long time since he had talked to a ranger.
She woke up that morning and set off south west again. The trip was very short lived, she was closer to the camp then expected. She could hear the grunts and burps of the tribe in the distance. She softened her steps so not to be heard, and approached the sounds.
Once she had arrived she set up a post about a half a mile away in the brush on a hill. She kept an eye on the orcs, making sure they were not harming anything with in the region. If they were a threat to anything at all that might upset Fabeth in any way, she would strike them down without warning.
She was a ruthless killer when she had to be. She had a reputation for being a great fighter, wounded or not, she would fight to the end. She did not fear death but accepted it and that is what drove her. She believes that what she does in this life will affect her in the after life. Even with that acceptance, she still didn’t feel her life was fulfilled.
As Fabeth silently lay in the brush upon the hill in this distance, a small group of orcs returned to the tribe from some type of mission. As they walked into camp Fabeth could see them carrying something. She squinted her eyes. Then she saw it. The corpse of a man, the body of a human. Fabeth’s heart sank into her chest. She felt great guilt for the poor soul who fell to the hands of those horrid orcs.
From the look of the man he seemed to be a simple farmer. She really couldn’t tell, she was to far away.
Immediately she came up with plans in her mind to raid the orc camp. She had to avenge this poor soul’s death. Quickly she darted off into the forest silently searching for shafts to fit the arrows with she was about to make.
The arrows she was constructing were simply. The wood was very light, but not very strong. This didn’t matter much because her bow was powerful enough to dig the shaft deep within the orcs chest puncturing his heart.
Her bow, named Rivance, was awarded to her back in her younger years, had the power of gods. The bow was up for display in the city one day. As soon as she laid eyes on it she knew she must have it. The bow was a reward for the bounty the head of a troll that was living among the river. She was quick to accept the job. Although it nearly cost her her life, she knew it was worth the risk in more ways then one.
Nearly a day had past before she was done with the arrows. She crafted them with a simple pocket knife and a small hand axe. The shafts were near perfect and would not fail her. But she was careless; she did not keep an eye on the camp or the area around her.
Two orc scouts walked less then a hundred yards away before they caught the scent of Fabeth. The smell was sweet, soft, and filled with passion. How could the orcs resist, they walked towards her. Orcs being as stupid and clumsy as they are gave themselves away. But by the time they did it was too late. There weapons were already drawn, hers over ten feet away.
One of the orcs threw a spear at the woman, groaning as he released it from his huge hands. Fabeth ducked quickly to the side of the spear, but it still caught her and sliced the side of her chest. Though painful at the time, Fabeth ignored it.
She threw the hand axe squarely into the orcs head, burring itself deep into its thick skull. The other orc, equipped with a short sword and shield approached Fabeth with a snarl on its face. A snarl of victory, for she was defenseless. Orcs are so stubborn; he had no idea of her great agility. The orc charged forward full speed, sword above its head, swinging downward at the female elf. Fabeth dodged easily, almost laughing, as she ran over to her two swords.
The orc turned around and rushed towards her again, but only to meet his death. She had both swords in hand, and parried the orc’s attack with great ease. The other sword bit into the side of the green foul beast, dropping it where it stood just moments ago.
Although, the smell overwhelming, she went back to her original spot and picked up her arrows, packing them into her quiver. She had a quick meal as the sun set in the west. She sat atop the hill, watching the sun lower.
She would wait for night to fall and try to slay as many as she could in the dark.
That night, as the orcs lay in there beds with furs and rocks for pillows, Fabeth readied her arrows in her quiver. She spotted her first pray, the orc on the farthest side of the camp. She thought to her self this could be a good diversion, maybe they would think she was attacking from the other side. She also figured if she shot fast enough that they would think there was more then one of her. But really it didn’t matter, orcs were to stupid to notice any real details. As usual, Fabeth played it safe though.
She fired the arrow. The cunning design of the wooden shaft sailed through the air and plunged into the orcs chest, piercing his heart ending his poor useless life in a split second.
The arrow was so quiet, and the orcs death was so silent, no one even noticed. So using the element of surprise to her advantage she continued to attack. Arrow after arrow she slowly aimed making sure to hit her target and kill it instantly.
One of the orcs that was struck with the arrow let out a growl as it died, she missed its heart by less then an inch. One of the guards that was standing in front of the door to the chiefs tent went to inspect the sound and noticed what was happening. He ran back to the chief yelling wildly in the orc tongue “Awaken! Awaken der is a someone attackin ours camp! Awaken brudders!”
By then it was to late, hardy any of the orcs got up simply because, most were already dead. Fabeth shot the last arrow straight threw the head of the guard that was screaming among the camp. He died instantly, he never even heard the wind break as the arrow flew.
Fabeth rushed down the hill, even running full speed you could not hear her foot falls beneath the soft padded shoes she had bought in Kelvin when she was trained as a ranger. Both swords drawn she sliced the ropes that held the tent up for the chief, knocking it over unto the fire and setting it ablaze. The chief was not inside, he was to busy running around the camp in terror looking for anyone alive to help with the coming battle. By then it was too late, he was the only one alive. Fabeth would let this one live though. She wanted him to feel the pain he had caused for the life he and his men had taken. Normally Fabeth wouldn’t take action among others who did not commit the crimes themselves, but she knew the chief sent out the troop, therefore he was responsible.
In orc tongue, Fabeth simply said, “Never slay another living thing again” and she sliced the chief’s leg causing him to bleed greatly. Slowly starring him down she turned and walked without a sound towards the pitch- black forest, with a smirk on her face.
Turning around was the biggest mistake she had made in awhile. There was a reason this orc was the chief, he could endure and live long. Therefore the pain meant little to him. Also he was pretty smart for an orc. Quietly he drew the flail from his side and ran towards her, swinging it around in circles above his head.
He lunged forward and aimed the spiked mace tipped flail at her body. Fabeth ducked as fast as she could but not nearly fast enough. The flail’s spikes buried themselves to the side of her body. Fabeth screamed out in pain as she fell to the ground.
She drew her swords and rolled out of the way rapidly. The chief swung his flail around again getting ready for the second attack.
He underestimated her speed, for the flail was just to slow for duel short swords, especially magical ones.
Fabeth used one of the swords and thrust it into the air in the middle of the flails path, parrying it and tangling the chain around it. The chief was defenseless and Fabeth used the other sword and slit his throat.
The chief dropped to his knees, both of his hands on his neck, drowning in his own blood. He looked to the stars and started to fade away.
“I gave you a chance fool, now you pay with your life. Filthy damn orc!” Fabeth spat as she stared him down. Then she slowly limped off into the woods.
