Amorthon Blackwood

Family

Amorthon generally considered himself to be a calm elf…a reasonable elf. Under normal circumstances, he rarely saw the need or value in unrestrained anger or rage. But ‘normal’ circumstances didn’t include threats to his family…or what he considered to be his family.

The ranger snarled as he loosed yet another arrow into the trapper’s corpse before kicking the body aside and moving to check on Savage. For days the two had been moving through the Crimson Thicket, covering the Shal'dorei refugees as they escaped and picking off hunters when they could. They had been well hidden, with Savage only moving in to attack when absolutely necessary. Most of the time the ranger was focused on his shooting, while the tiger kept watch for any nearby threats. It was a practiced routine and one that had never had complications, until now. With Amorthon distracted by attempting to cover wave after wave of refugees, one hunter had managed to slip by unnoticed by the ranger…but he had not escaped the tiger’s watchful gaze.

The first warning that something was wrong was the low snarl, quickly followed by a roar and a shout. The ranger whipped around, only to see Savage nursing his front right leg before collapsing, and a Shal'dorei hunter, his blade coated in blood, moving towards the wounded tiger. The reaction was instant. Rage. Blinding rage. Rage that continued to build with each arrow the ranger released. “GET. THE FUCK. AWAY. FROM. HIM!!”  The first struck the hunter in the left knee, the second in his left shoulder, the third in the other elf’s gut. Amorthon lost count of the number of arrows he’d shot, only noticing when he encountered an empty quiver. 

He didn’t care that the other elf couldn’t move, that there was a growing pool of blood around him, or that he was struggling to breathe. He didn’t care that the man was probably in excruciating pain. He paid no mind to the fact that he had a knife readily available and he could end the man’s life easily enough. The only thing he was worried about, was Savage.

He grabbed his bag as he knelt down next to the tiger, running a hand over the animal’s head. With a groan, Savage looked up, clearly in pain. “It’s alright buddy, I’ve got you.” He emptied the bag, frantically searching for (and finding) bandages and a healing salve…enough to get them back to Dalaran. The ranger took a slow breath, steadying his hands as he worked to apply the salve and gently, but efficiently, wrapped the tiger’s leg.

“Okay…okay. Now, let’s get you out of here and get that leg patched up…” The ranger turned, meeting his tiger’s gaze, a half smile making its way across his features at the determination he saw there. “They’re going to have to try harder than that, aren’t they?” Slowly, methodically, he moved about gathering his things before helping the tiger back onto his feet. 

Used and discarded for most of his life, he was used to pain, physically and otherwise. But he’d be DAMNEDbefore he let anyone touch his family.