Hey so it's been a while sine i did one of these and well i have plenty of ideas so might as well try and put some more of them here.
Teaching an upstart
with a hapless sigh you down the rest of your drink, letting the hearty gulps drown out the ruckess a few tables over, You'd long since given up on being sober tonight anyway. although that probably wasn't anything out of the ordinary even back in your hay day...
Letting the alcoholic hue take over you think back to your prime, looking over the hall you can see evidence of your past glories littering the walls and displays, each with fantastic stories to tell but many too you'd rather forget. the more you try the more they bubble to the surface. before you know it you've trapped your mind in a vicious cycle of sorrow and regret, at first just remembering those lost at the guild but then back to the war...
You were drafted like most in the kingdom when war broke out with the elves all able bodied men were needed to fight, although some would say lucky you were assigned to the archers as opposed to the infantry, and saw first hand just how devastating Elven archery could be on poorly equipped badly trained mobbs of men. You could only watch on helplessly as you watched entire Coulomb of infantry being cut to ribbons by arrows, shield offering little resistance to the saturation. And once ordered to attack the archers fared little better, not only did you have to close the distance to fire, you were simply out classed when skirmishing. The battle turned however as many of the Elves ran out of Ammunition, opting to flee the field rather than fight in melee. The "Victories" like Jakoben were utterly untenable and a truce was quickly signed. Next to nothing achieved except for the humiliation of the kingdom and the devastation to a generation of working class men.
Dissatisfied with the military life and the immediate draft over, you and what were left of your friends found work as mercenaries more often than not being contract to fight fellow deserters or veterans turned bandit. But as the blood money dried up your company had to change morphing into a legitimate guild of mercenaries/adventurers.
The most recent toast pulling you out of your delirium you flinch, sitting back with a grunt eyes glossing over as you look back over at the rowdy table of younger members, many cheering and boasting about their minor missions and achievements, you could live with that maybe even be content at the relative peace these members get to experience but one that you just cant abide by is the Elf sitting at the table, She hadn't been here very long but was already quite well decorated and quickly developing the ego to match.
In your intoxicated state you stare down the elf fortifying your disgust as your eyes wander over my radiant figure, trying to figure out just how old i really am, after all Elves can live to almost a thousand, was i old enough to remember the war.... maybe i was even shooting at these poor boys fathers back then... your imagination running wild determined this time to pick a fight with something anyone, regardless of guilt or evidence.
(so that's where I'll start us but uhm some pointers going forward, Elves are renowned for their beauty and it's often said that when they fail in fighting they try to bewitch their opponents. it might just be superstition or propaganda but still.
You are basically retired at this point, leaving you frustrated but still supremely talented, you are "honoured" and well looked after in the halls but these days you have little influence of the leadership or much of anything these days.
you are a gifted archer with a wealth of experience however in a straight contest a human has no chance of out competing an Elf Archer. i also wasn't really planing on a real fight just btws)