A small permanent village built onto one of the more forgiving sections of the Aberresai Savannah during the wet season.
Varys did his best to focus on nothing but the sound of his shoes on the shoddily pathed scrubland as he burst from the small trading post building in the center of the village. The sound of alarmed shouts and enraged swears followed him out of the door. Hey! Stop, Thief!" He heard the shopkeeper he'd just been talking with rather cordially call behind him. He closed his eyes and shot down the path he'd come into the village from as fast as his less than well-nourished legs could carry him.
It had been an unplanned theft. Varys had left his home of Fal'Addas with nothing but a paltry few coins and the clothes on his back about a month ago, on a search for his own reason to be alive. It sounded morbid, but for Varys it was legitimate question; He'd spent his childhood with a man who only spoke to gave him a name, and otherwise only kept him fed and nothing more, and when he perished, the young elf had fled to the city of Fal'Addas, where he'd lived as a vagrant swindler up until just recently.
He'd visited his so-called father's cabin one more time before he'd left though. It had been ravaged by the wildfires that once plagued the land, but he nonetheless found something he'd never seen before: His father's journal. The book contained all manner of topics written in language that he couldn't even begin to understand, but it was on the page that had been bookmarked that he'd found something unexpected.
His name, circled and written in large letters, connected by a line to a drawing of another object beside it, labelled with the word 'Prism'.
He didn't know what this Prism was, or how it was connected to him, but it was the only lead he had to a purpose. If this Prism the book mentioned had the answers, it was worth seeking out, right? He figured it had to be some sort of magical artifact or treasure, judging on the magical terms he could make out from the rest of the journal. That in mind, he'd taken the chance to check every bookshop, library, or any other trading post for information on magical items. Kind of like the book he'd just stolen, tucked away snugly in his jacket, with that very same Prism emblazoned on the front cover.
He was confident in his ability to outrun any pursuers, but he continued to hear the whizzing of arrows as the flew past his head. Turning for a moment, eyes partially obscured by the white hair that had fallen down his forehead as a result of his sweating, he saw two... no, three men armed with bows trained on him, struggling to keep pace. They were far too slow, though. He was able to make it out of the village gate with only a few scratches from grazed arrows. They hurt, and his clothes were a bit torn up, but they were rags anyways. He'd made off with the goods.
Just to be safe, and to ensure no stray arrows followed him out, he ducked behind a large rocky outcropping a ways out from the gate. As he did though, he felt his body collide with something large, and rather foul smelling. Falling back onto the ground, he looked up at the tall, yellow skinned creature that he'd accidentally just headbutted, now looking down at Varys.
A Savanna Troll, and an angry one at that.
Varys felt the heat of the irritated monster's breath blanket him, and found himself paralyzed in fear. "T-this..." His dry lips struggled to form words. Maybe if he'd been on his feet and armed he could escape, but he'd already hit the ground, and he'd never wielded a weapon in his life save for his fists. Varys suspected that fists wouldn't do him much good. His hands dug into the scrubland as he attempted to pull himself away.
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