Alps Attack Narrative

On an icy spring night I was murdered by a villain who had raided my village. Two days before the attack my father and I had been fighting crime south of the Alps, I have been fighting crime since I was young. My father has always been a warrior for as long as anyone can remember. Tattoos cover our bodies, they symbolize the spirit of the warrior. We are the only warriors in our village, and are considered heroes. Bruises and scars cover my body, reminding me of past trials. I knew the Alps through and through and voyaging them was a large part of my life. A day before the attack occurred my father and I were picking herbs and plants at the base of the Alps. After we collected the needed medical supplies we headed back to our village just south of the Alps. The trek back was roughly a two hour long hike through thick vegetation. I was startled, when I arrive, all the tents had been burned down and most of the food and other supplies had been taken. I was immediately confronted by the chief, who told me a

He cries out in pain and fell to his knees. I tried to carry him to safety, but while I tried to put him over my shoulder another arrow struck his upper back and penetrated his right lung. I knew he had no chance of surviving so I drug him into the dense vegetation and gathered my things as quickly as I could but before I could retreat into the Alps the chief attacker drew an arrow and shot me in the upper right side of my back. Since he took the shot from long distances the injury appeared to be minor. I fired an arrow back in the direction it came from. The arrow struck him just below the chin and killed him instantly. I broke the arrow off that was embedded in my back and retrieved the other arrows. I knew my father was dead and decided to carry him to the place where he first trained me in hand-to hand