As of 5/24/99
Ethan de Nomestra raced down the broken trail that led through a portion of the Innocus Mountains unknown to him. To his rear, and not as far back as he would have liked, followed a band of fourteen bad-tempered poachers. And if that wasn't bad enough, they were bad-tempered orc poachers. "Now I know why I hate orcs," Ethan snarled to himself for the tenth time that day as he leapt over a fallen tree, landing on the other side with a grunt. Quickly, but carefully, Ethan lifted up the studded leather armor that covered his cotton tunic to reveal a large spot of crimson near the center of his abdomen. Although the wound itself wasn't very deep, it had bled profusely off and on for nearly two days, the injury reopening tie and again because of his exertions.
Hesitantly at first, Ethan reached into his backpack and pulled out one of the two vials of healing elixir he had left. He removed the small cork from the glass vial and downed the blue liquid in a single gulp. Instantly, he could feel the magic of the healing elixir begin working on the cut across his abdomen, as well as the stiffness that was beginning to set within his knees and hips. Gently, Ethan pressed a finger against the crimson stain on his tunic. His abdomen was tender, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. "Thank the gods for this," Ethan said, flipping the empty vial once in his hand before tossing it up and over an outcropping of rock.
Behind him, the sounds of the approaching orcs were getting louder. Ethan slipped his long bow off his shoulder and reached into his backpack once again, removing his last two sheaf arrows. He knew that the twelve flight arrows held safely within their quiver wouldn't do the damage the sheaf arrows would. Besides, Ethan thought to himself as he dropped to one knee behind the fallen tree, I wouldn't be able to get them all, even if I wanted to. True, there had only been two orcs at one time, but that had been five days prior, when Ethan had just entered the western foothills of the Innocus Mountains.
It had been the start of his three-month vacation when Ethan found himself sixteen days out of Orr-Natel, heading northeast through the Kingdom of Langington and the small peninsula of dense foliage that protruded from the Tempec Forest. All hopes of quiet and peace were thrown aside when Ethan came across two orc poachers. They had been in the process of cutting up an already dead unicorn--a sacred animal to the Fpathen of the Tempec and the nation of Jahhne--when Ethan stumbled into their camp. He had killed one of the humanoids outright, but the second was able to get away, with the unicorn's enchanted horn in hand. Ethan pursued the orc into the foothills of the Innocus Mountains for another day and a half, until eventually the orc lead Ethan to its second camp. Here sat another thirteen orc poachers, all well armed and armored, and ready for Ethan. He had just barely made it out of the camp with his life, following a broken trail that led him ever deeper into the Innocus Mountains. Two days after that, Ethan found himself crouched behind a fallen tree, with long bow and sheaf arrow in hand.
With expertise, Ethan nocked the sheaf arrow, gripping its tail with the first and second fingers of his right hand and smoothly pulling back on the oxhair bowstring. The long bow bent into a near-perfect crescent as Ethan took a bead on a small clump of bushes some fifty feet down the trail. He knew the orcs would have to bust through those bushes, and would be doing so at any mo--
"Umanik!" an orc shouted as it exploded through the clump of bushes. The creature was typical-looking for an orc, or so Ethan thought: brownish green skin with a bluish sheen that contrasted to the dirty pink of its nose and ears; deep black hair sticking straight up; and reddish eyes that made the creature appear more vile than it already was. In its right hand the orc held firmly to a rusted hand axe, and in its left hand was a battered shield of banded wood, held low and to the orc's side. Ethan made note of this and adjusted his aim slightly before releasing the arrow. An instant later, the brownish green skin covering the orc's chest was suddenly glistening crimson black as the sheaf arrow hit its mark. A moment later, Ethan had the second sheaf arrow nocked and ready, only to let it fly a moment after that at a second orc blasting its way through the clump of bushes. Before a third orc had a chance to follow its two dead companions through the bushes, Ethan was up and running, the long bow slung over his shoulder once again.
The sun was getting low in the western sky as the broken trail Ethan was following slowly became more visible. To Ethan, this meant he was getting closer to civilization, a hamlet or small town perhaps. He knew of several small Pseithen communities strewn about the Perrin Towers; not positive of his current position, though, Ethan wasn't sure as to where those communities lay. The possibility of coming across a hostile community was pretty much even with coming across a friendly one. With this in mind, Ethan decided to break off from the trail. He climbed several short boulders to the north of the path, following it down for a few hundred feet more. As the trail become more and more visible, Ethan could hear the faint sounds of a community off in the distance. To his rear, the sounds of the twelve orc poachers, once distant themselves, were becoming louder.
Carefully, Ethan made his way from one boulder to the next, traveling parallel to the beaten path. As the sun fell behind a horizon of rocks and outcroppings, casting shadows that reached far into the east, Ethan rounded a large boulder, coming face to face with yet another orc. Although just as disgusting as the two he had killed earlier in the day, Ethan was sure that this one was a female, simply by the ample bosom barely held under a cotton shirt. It mattered not to the young ranger, though, for he knew that the humanoid before him was just as despicable as those to his rear; as to every other orc that walked the lands of Western Glashia. Instinctually, Ethan unsheathed his long sword. The blade sliced across the female orc's chest, cutting a deep gash that quickly ended the humanoid's life, but not before it was able to let out a cry.
Ethan could see the fires of several torches dancing toward him as those from the small village came to investigate the female orc's cry. To his rear, Ethan could hear the advancing poachers. "Now I know why I hate orcs," he snarled yet again as he slipped his long sword into its scabbard and turned to continue his trek over the boulders. Suddenly, not knowing what had hit him from the rear, Ethan was thrown forward several feet, hitting the soft dirt between a jagged rock outcropping and a pair of large boulders. He hit the ground and rolled to his back, and cringed, for the sound of cracking glass told him that his last vial of healing elixir had cracked, and that the magical potion was slowly making its way over everything held within his backpack.
He stood quickly, his foot brushing against a chunk of wood that looked as though it had been fashioned into a club. As he bent to pick it up, three orcs appeared over the boulders, each donning a burning torch, while only two of the three held wooden clubs. "Umanik!" one of the orcs shouted, pointing a curled finger his way. Ethan tossed the wooden club at the three orcs as he turned to his left. With just enough room for a running start, Ethan jumped onto the jagged rock outcropping, scaling it faster than even he thought possible. As he reached the top, Ethan glanced over his shoulder - a horde of orcs, including those from the band of poachers, were flowing over the rocky obstacles like rain water running down stone steps.
"Celestial Kallissa, protect me," he said softly to himself as he got to his feet. Ethan ran through the night and into the better half of the next day, sleeping for only brief moments within shallow caves or under fallen, rotting trees. Eventually, four days later, when he was sure he had lost the pursuing orcs, Ethan climbed under an overhang of rock, pulled a thick blanket of branches over himself, and fell fast asleep.
The next day, Ethan was able to find a shallow pool of water being fed from a small mountain creek. He stripped himself down and bathed like never before, washing away nearly ten days worth of sweat and dirt, as well as the memories of the distant orcs. After his bath, Ethan was able to find some wild berries and roots that he combined with the dried beef carried within his pack. A short time later, after he had stuffed himself, Ethan continued his trek through the Innocus Mountains. Although he knew he was somewhere within the north central portion of the legendary peaks, Ethan wasn't sure of his exact location.
With a bit more than two-months left of his vacation, and confident that he would come across one of the many communities found within the Josurrian Reach sooner or later, Ethan decided to follow what looked to be a series of interconnected valleys, with the prospect of up-and-coming quiet and peace the only thing on his mind.
Background
Ethan de Nomestra was born in the Year of Our Keeper, 5370. His father, Duke Armistand de Nomestra II, is ruler over a small duchy located along the northwestern coast of Lake Gideon, in the Kingdom of Langington. This small parcel of land was granted to the de Nomestra family about eighty years prior as a gift from King de Angelosis to the first duke of the Duchy of de Nomestra, Armistand the First.
Ethan was brought up as an only child to a loving and dear mother and father, and was sent off when he was thirteen years old as an apprentice of the Royal Guard in Gideon. For the seven years that followed, Ethan trained under the leadership of some the Langington's best military soldiers and leaders, teaching him well the use of the long sword, as well as long and short bows. The primary focus of his training dealt within the woods outside of Gideon, allowing Ethan to hone woodsman skills he never knew he had. On the celebration of his twentieth year, Ethan was promoted to the rank of Captain within the Royal Guard; a position that he would hold for less than a month.
Shortly after his promotion, Ethan resigned his rank and commission with Gideon's Royal Guard, much to the dismay of his father. He longed for exploration of Langington and knew that, if he had stayed with the Royal Guard, he would have been stationed either within Gideon, or within one of the larger cities surrounding Lake Gideon. Not wanting such a secluded life, Ethan packed his belongings and found passage to the island of Orr-Natel, located in the heart of Lake Gideon. There he found a position within the ranks of the jailers of Langington's prison, also named Orr-Natel. Again Ethan rose quickly within the ranks, from a simple stable hand to a senior jailer, and finally to the position where he was referred to as a Collector. His job was loosely structured, although the basic premise of it had to do with the hunting down and capture of wanted criminals within the boarders of the Kingdom of Langington. Some referred to him as a bounty hunter, despite the fact that he collected no bounty on the criminals he captured. A simple monthly salary was all Ethan had ever asked for.
Although he stills hold a room within his father's keep in the Duchy of de Nomestra, Ethan is rarely found there, for his work has him on the roads of Langington nearly three-quarters of the year, with the remainder of the time being spent either within Orr-Natel itself, or on a solitary retreat, usually within the forested nation of Jahhne.
Although not as quick of a thinker as his father, Ethan is very patient and understanding of others, especially children. Despite the fact that he is along the lines of average looking for an Alasion, Ethan has had the pleasure of numerous women, although nothing he would call "marriage material." Although he worships Kallissa most of the time, Ethan has been known to pay homage to Terranna, the Great Swordsman. And finally, because of his form of work and his exposure to nearly every type of citizen within Langington, Ethan is very tolerant of all the races within Western Glashia, save those of orcish blood. Because of an orc attack on his family during a journey to the Province of Arvandus, and because of the death of his uncle and two cousins he loved as brothers, Ethan holds a burning hatred for the vial humanoids. He has been know to reject assignments from his superiors at Orr-Natel involving orc criminals and prisoners, for Ethan is unsure whether the orcs would survive while under his care. Ethan is especially fond of the Fpathen for their forester and ranger abilities, though, as well as the Havanathe for their whimsical way of sauntering through life, day by day.
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