Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

A man in a brown cloak ventures into Cloakwood, stalking his prey in the cover of darkness. He narrows his eyes, then suddenly leaps out from the bushes and fires an orb of cold from his finger-tips, puncturing through a near-by deer and killing it instantly. He then leaps up and murmurs a ward to enhance his physical strength, laying his hand on the carcass and murmuring another spell, teleporting away to the Cloudpeaks. He leaves behind a frosty touch on the spot which the deer died, and a faint brisk, cold aroma.

Marcel quietly padded into a clearing by a stream. Thick tendrils of mist licked about his worn boots as clear grey eyes scanned the pre-dawn gloom.
There! A shape among the shadows, darker than a shrub, moved from the cover of the old forest towards the tempting waters of the brook.

The fugitive levelled his bow. It was a wicked thing, that bow. Old and bent and stronger than ironwood. Yet somehow he could draw it back with ease, despite being a man of slender build.

He loosed a razor-sharp arrow and it flew straight and true. The boar heard the thwang! of the bow a moment too late. It took a few quick strides before collapsing in a growing pool of it's life-blood. The hunter smirked; he was getting better, sharper.

Marcel dragged the beast back several hundred yards to where his camp was set up. After a short rest, and a celebratory puff of his pipe, he got to work skinning, gutting and quartering his prey.

A fine start...

A stout, tall man in blue leather robes walks into the nearby wood-line. A large hood hides his face and an even larger robe and cloak leaves a mystery to what the man has hidden underneath. . . He seems to walk deep into the forest slow and discrete but has a straighten posture and a long suddle stride to his walk length. The man approaches what seems to be a frosty ice patch within the forest. The ice patch seems to not blend in at all making it very easy not to over look. The man leans down reaching one of his hidden arms to the ice patch and placing a finger upon it.

"Frost magic. . ."

The man speaks silently before looking onward and catching a glimpse of a nearby Elk in the tree-line. With little cause for alarm the man slowly beings to walk to the deer making slow strides to his walk and no sudden movements other then his approaching posture. The Elk turns his head the opposite direction of the approaching man as an echo is sounded deeper within the woods and a boar squeal covered the previously quiet forest in a cry of survival. The Elk quickly felt the presence of something nearby and turned his head the other direction only catch a short glimpse of frosty cone of ice sharps that quickly ended its vision. . . and its life.

A few shards that missed their mark outline the location of the previous hunted Elk. And a small pool of blood marks the location of another released soul.