You stood, stumbling and staggering. You tucked away the strange note into your ragged clothes and quickly inspect the bow. It was a completely normal bow, no strings attached. Unfortunately. No arrows around either.
The boy next to you fired a pebble with his sling; drawing, aiming, and firing with youthful years of practice. In the tree-line, you heard a distant thump and an annoyed grunt.
"Boy! What did I say? Get back to the house, now!"
Turning, you saw a grizzled old man. Time and toil had left him hard and lean, but his hulking frame suggested he must have been a bear of a man in his youth.
"But," the boy started, still firing his sling. "I'm a man! I can fight!"
"Be a man, then! Go home and protect your grandmother."
Reluctantly, the boy turned and fled to a large house behind you. The band of orcs, around six of them, were encroaching hurriedly. Their spears were makeshift, their shields battered, but all that proved was their experience in violence.
"You there!" the old man called, pointing at you. "Had a good rest on my property? Get off your behind and help an old man!"
You shift around the bow in your hands. You thought, dejectedly, that it would at least make a usable club. As you raise it, however, a line of light appeared between the two ends of the bow limbs. You pulled it slowly, and another line of light shaped like an arrow materialized.
"Hann, help me. Here they come!"
With lightning speed, you aimed the bow at the nearest orc and loosed. The light flew like a shooting star. It buried itself into the orc's shoulder and vanished with a brilliant puff.
The old man wasted no time. He closed the gap with the wounded orc, burying a woodcutting axe into the pigman's neck.
As he pulled the axe out, a kick from behind knocked the man down. Another orc stood over him, spear poised to impale his gut.
You aimed. Drew. Loosed. The arrow flew and pierced the orc's chainmail as if it were parchment. It let out a squeal of anger. The man, quick as thunder, stood and swung his axe in one fluid motion. The orc's head rolled from its shoulders.
The four remaining orcs stood close, shields raised. You loosed another arrow. It went straight through an orc's shield as if it hadn't been there at all. The orc behind it roared in surprise.
You loosed again, and the orc fell with an arrow in his chest and throat. The other three, seeing the futility of defense, charged. Not for you, nor for the old man, but for the house behind.
One pulled out a torch and lit it by speaking foul whispers. The orc stopped in its tracks, arched its arm back, and flung the flaming torch.
The old man saw where it would go - the thatch roof. "No!"
Your eyes narrowed, your breathing deepened and slowed. Aim. Draw. Loose. The arrow met its mark as a hawk does a lesser bird, knocking the torch down into a patch of mud.
With a roar, the old man charged into the torch-lobbing orc, bulling the pigman down. One vicious downward swing split the orc from shoulder to belly.
The two remaining orcs skidded to a halt and turned to flee. They squealed like piglets as the old man chased them. You aimed your bow at the fleeing orcs, but the bowstring would not materialize at all.
Strange.
They were chased back into the forest by the old man, who sunk to his knees and clutched his chest. You jogged over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, one he brushed away.
"I'm not as spry as I used to be," he managed. He stood, refusing any help. He faced you. In his face of defiance, you saw relief and gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, stranger."
---
"Dear, you really must go to town and see Father Ham." A woman was tending to the old man. She was old and round enough to accommodate the kindness that permeated her.
"Don't need to, don't want to. Besides, what would happen if the orcs returned while I was gone?"
"I'd defend the house!" said the boy from earlier. He was watching the stew cook over the hearth.
The house was smaller inside than it had appeared without, but to you that gave it a rustic coziness. You sat at a table, sitting across the old man and presumably his wife. She turned to face you as the man waved her off.
"Thank you so much for helping my husband."
"I killed most of them," he muttered quietly.
"Hush, dear." She smiled warmly. "My grandson, Abel, said you fell from the sky!"
The old man snorted. "That was probably a dead bird. She's probably some vagrant who took a nap in our orchard."
"She did fall from the sky!" Abel said, turning from the stew. "I saw it!"
"We believe you, dear," the grandmother said.
"She believes you, boy. Now get back to the stew. And as for you," the man said, facing you. "I don't take kindly to trespassers, but if it hadn't been for you it could have gotten bad. So, thank you. You can stay for the night."
"You can stay as long as you need," she said, thumping the man softly on the head. "Go wash up, there's a water trough in the back for that."
---
You kneel and stare into the trough. You wash yourself, and as the ripples subside you see:
[ ] Write-in. Describe shortly your gender and appearance. Doesn't have to be detailed. Also, human only.