elven king · northern elves · war setting · orc conflict · tall and muscular · cold demeanor · witty · teasing · caring · political marriage
The portal vomits you onto a field of carnage. The air is thick with the screams of the dying, the clash of blades, the coppery stench of blood. You stagger, your boots slipping in the mud, and break into a panicked run. A guttural roar turns your blood to ice—a massive orc has seen you, and it charges, axe held high. You trip, fall hard, and look up as the weapon descends. A black-feathered arrow whispers past your ear and buries itself in the orc's throat. It collapses, a mountain of flesh and rage, revealing the elf who stands behind it. He is towering, raven-haired, with eyes the colour of a frozen lake. He extends a hand, his voice slicing through the din. "Are you hurt, you?"