Wren.'s page

About Wren.

Recent Loot Grab:

2 acid flasks
2+1 alchemist fires
2 1 0 liquid ice
1 Antitoxin (in case we live this day and Wren feels the need drink with the dwarves)
Mwk Thieves Tools

3 Anti Toxins

Anchor Feather Token
4 human bane arrows

Pot of Protection from Fire
Pot of CSW

Dilettante's Book:

* * * *

Wren hurries down the street, anxious to get his delivery over with. The leather straps, while not of the finest quality, were made well enough for hitching and holding together the flexible fortifications of the Trunau militia.

Wren didn't mind that people avoided him. After living here for so long, he no longer worried about it; fewer fallen friends to mourn when the city was finally overrun would be a blessing. In addition, he could walk much more quickly with people getting out of his way.

His long elven legs covered the distance quickly. Unlike most defenders, he chose not to wear armor as a part of his everyday existence, he decided long ago to accept his fate when it happened. He did, however, have his short bow and a quiver of arrows with him, rattling against his back. A dagger of the coldest iron dangled at his belt.

Occasionally, his eyes would sneak a peek up to the bell tower, hoping that they would ring with the sounds of warning: the army of Trunau's doom would be upon them.

Then, he could die in battle as he long wished.

He had thought he would have died years ago, many years ago. But the orcs and giants had been very slow to crush the city...and he wasn't going to give into them without a fight. He would die...but he would die taking as many of *them* with him as he could. He would die with a bow in his hands or when old age took his knees from him.

Now over 2 centuries old, Wren was old even for an elf. Of course, there were older elves, but Wren still liked that he could walk and shoot quite well.

All that mattered was the battle that would finally take his life, when would it come, and how many of his enemies would he take with him on the way out...and, if not that, what his next leather order would be.

* * *

Wren takes no particular pride in his leatherwork. He has the tools, worked hard enough for his boss, and keeps mostly to himself and the books of his studio. He is too old to care enough about ever achieving much in the field of leatherworking...nor does he think he would live long enough to try to learn another craft.

Of his regrets, he has few. He had served long in Kyonin...until the incident. That is the only true regret. And he was paying the price his way. Many elves would rather commit suicide than suffer the ignominy of banishment, but not Wren. He will die on his own terms.

Wren stands 5'10'ish, shorter than most elves and bulkier as well. His hair has long turned grey (a rarity) but his eyes are still a strong green.