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Vision of the Archer Wraith

Vision Cast by Amawar at QoH 2026


"Ailil!" your mother calls, her chiming voice ringing through the lustrous trees. Come back home, we're dining soon!" You drop lithely from a tree branch, quiver on your back, bow in hand, and grin impishly at your mother. While you are adorned in a shredded leather facsimile of rangers' wear, your mother wears the proper raiment of your family's station: draping colorful fabrics, intricate jewelry adorning her elegantly pointed ears, color enhancing her almond-shaped eyes. She looks down at you with a patient smile. "You know your father will have a fit if he sees you dressed like that," she says. "Come home and pretend you've been studying."

You are older, just past the age of apprentices and acolytes, standing by with parchment and pen as an elf somewhat older than you concentrates on arranging gems on a table. Your father stands behind you. "Just write down what you see," your father instructs. "This is simple mages' work, but will give you practice attending to details of an event." The mage at the table flashes a quick look at the suggestion that the work is "simple," but proceeds to incant and gesture until shimmering whorls of air coalesce into a gem that was not there before. Later, your father quizzes you. What was the mage wearing? What bird called in the window halfway through? What time was on the dial?....

You sit on a grand balcony, waxing your bow string. Your mother walks out and eyes your activity. "Back to your ranger games?" she smirks. "You'd best be done with your chronicling. Noble pursuits before base." You begin to protest but she continues: "It is neither your place nor mine to dirty our hands with the labors of life. We need your hands free and lithe to record the moments that matter. Your eyes are keen indeed, and they should be trained upon events of import."

Rumors of Dark Wraiths and fiery demon sprites reach your home shortly before they do. The wards hold for a while, but the attacking forces are powerful too. For all your watching, for all the scholars' work, nobody knows why they came. They seem trained on your family - the true prize - after cutting through the common chaff.

In the fearful scramble to fight them off, you find yourself with no means of defense but your bow and mundane arrows, hardly fit to hunt an enemy with powers from beyond your plane.

You track the foe to your parents' very own chambers. Terror seizes you entirely when you enter to see the Demon Prince with his hand poised over your father's sleeping face. Tendrils of dark intent trace downward from the hand towards the aged but delicate features. You draw an arrow, trembling, and aim it at the demon, who speaks with confidence. "Your service, or your father's life," the demon intones. "And any more I wish to take." You try your best to put on a brave face, but you are shaking, almost unable to speak.

"Be certain that your mother's life is already mine," the demon sneers. "And your father's fall will be but a start. What say you, lad? Join me and you will be the most powerful archer ever seen, never at a loss for prey to hunt. And your father, and the rest -" the demon looks down as the dark mist from his hand draws breath from the elf with a rasping sound - "will live."
Created by Chan Ottokar (Alex Taylor) at 08-31-26 05:25 PM
Last Modified by Chan Ottokar (Alex Taylor) at 08-31-26 05:25 PM