Trials of Azeroth

Chapter 1

He woke to the soft voice of the lute and the hard chorus of laughter and chatter. The roaring fire crackled away in the corner and the early morning sunlight shone through the old, stained windows. He lifted his head off the old oak bar counter and sat up straight in his stool. His skull pounded. Brushing his shoulder length hair back and scratching his well kept beard, the man let out a belch and began to recollect where he was.

"Finally woke up, eh? Fancy another drink, Codin?" Asked the mustachioed bar tender, filling another pint of ale for one of the other patrons.
"No thanks, Dobbins. I think I'll just go and get some fresh air." Replied Codin, stepping away from the bar and stretching his arms, making his way past the congregating group of townsfolk. He then stepped out of the Lions Pride Inn and into the cool, clear air of Elwynn Forest. Across the road sat the blacksmith, it's roaring furnace blazing away, the ring of hammer against anvil echoing around the town of Goldshire. Codin Brackbyrne, a broad shouldered, bearded veteran of the 2nd war, took in a deep breath and strolled down the packed dirt road. Birds fluttered overhead, singing their sweet melodies. The rising sunlight of the peaceful summer morn peeked through the cracks in the canopy of leaves that belonged to the towering oaks.
'A lovely morning, by all accounts' He thought. Keen to walk off his apparent tipsy state, he embarked east, on a wander down the quiet forest road.

He became lost in thought as he walked, and seemingly did not care where he would end up. Time passed slowly, with Codin savouring every moment, but his blissful morning was soon to be rudely interrupted. To his left, something stirred in the bushes. Shadows seemed to dance in the trees, deeper into the forest. The warrior's senses heightened, even in his mild intoxicated state. His right hand tightened around the hilt of his long sword, his left began to free his shield off his back. He slowed in his pace and scanned his surroundings. Something was afoot.

A blood-curdling cry erupted from the trees to his left. Half a dozen shady men sporting red bandanas vaulted over the old fence and onto the road, knifes and daggers at hand. Instinctively, Codin took up his balanced fighting stance, raised his heater shield and drew his trusty bastard sword. The ring of steel against scabbard filled the air, sending shivers down the spines of his assailants.
"Now, gents, I don't want any trouble. I'm tired, drunk and rather annoyed that you lot interrupted me. So what's say you boys get on your way, and no one gets hurt?" He proposed, in his  twangy northern accent. He was elicited no reply. The first footpad lunged at his abdomen with a vicious looking dirk. An easy move to block. The warrior parried the blow with his shield and thrust back with his sword, wounding the man in his arm.

Another swung with an equally vicious dagger at his chest, but it glanced harmlessly off his green inlayed mail vest. Codin struck back with the speed of a cobra, plunging his sword deep into the heart of his former opponent. He slumped to the ground, groaning with pain. But Codin had no time to celebrate, as before he could recover, another bandit came at him with a volley of blistering attacks. His head pounded, straining to block and parry in his shabby state. Through a stroke of luck, he managed to remain unharmed, as he forced the man back with a strong bash of his shield, but yet another bandit came at him. A large, burly, beast of a man armed with a club swung at his head with surprising speed. Codin raised an arm to block, but it crumpled under the force of the blow, planting him firmly on his back. His world began to spin as he drifted out of consciousness. The bandits then went about going through his pockets. He wanted to protest, but he was too weak to do so. His mind raced for an answer.

All of a sudden, an arrow whistled through the air and planted itself in the neck of one of the assailants. He fell to the floor like a boneless fish. A split second later, another found itself in the chest of another bandit. He too, fell. He heard shouts and curses, and through the corner of his eye he saw the remaining members fleeing off into the wood. His vision began to clear as he sat up, dusting off his roughspun trousers and forest green cloak. Both his strength and consciousness returned to him as he found a tall, dark haired night elf Hunter towering over him. He wore a leather tunic, tough brown boots and a green cloak with the hood up, covering his lean face. In his hand he held his honed recurve bow, with an arrow notched, at the ready.
"Well met, friend." He greeted.