Alis felt as if he woke up, his pupils almost as large as his eyes, his hair blond, his skin pale. It was pale as if he was sick, suffering from a disease, yet he was not, at least not known to him, for he knew not of his vampire heritage. The Bow master’s face was tired and sad, to the point of depression, his head hanging, his eyes half closed, not caring to show emotions. The noble natured raised himself from his makeshift bed. Sitting up, he revealed his rather tiny figure that always where hid beneath his clothing. His pale skin was disturbingly white, to the point where he could outmatch the dead. As the wind broke about the area, he felt the breeze all to good, his eyes came to rest upon his body in a quick motion as he noticed he was barely with cloths.
With that though, his cloths appeared, within his eyesight, his ceremonial clothing. The white linen pants and shirt. The silk blue cloak and his leather boots also came on in a rush. With the feeling of the cloths on himself, the cold chilly feeling became bearable, and it would not take long before he would discard the cold feeling all together.
“Empty minutes, empty hours, empty days, empty years. Why is it so that my memories will not return, but yet haunt me with these emotions that are not mine to own.”
He questioned himself though he had done so many times before, almost like a ritual whenever he awoke from his slumbers.
Stabilizing himself the vampire was quick to find his belongings when he realized he was hearing voices, many of them and they where loud. Quickly he held his bow in his hand with the quiver on his back, with an arrow pulled back and ready in case he needed defend himself. He had never been here before, he knew not how he came to be here and the though scared him. He felt like it was like waking up in his grave all over again and his knees grew shaky from it. Slowly Alis Grave Nil, the vampire elf took his first step towards a dangerous path into the arena.