This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.
Messages - wardka
Pages: [1]
1
« on: June 26, 2006, 12:50:45 PM »
Night had long since fallen over the Ranger's Vale deep in Sielwood forest as the last dying shadows had blurred into the gloom of the twilight. It was a tranquil night, but the sort of tranquility that did not bring with it peace; instead, the same kind of tension that many had noticed prior to the final battle against Blood filled the air. Huddled up against the trunk of a tree sat Shielle, and she was feeling every bit as miserable as she looked. Dried blood had caused her normally silky hair to stick to her forehead, dust and dirt covered her face, and her robes were tattered and stained. Inner peace would not come easy this night, so she had found a spot to just sit, be by herself and try to digest everything that had just happened. A good way to gather her thoughts had always been to write a letter to a loved one, so shaky hands had pulled out a quill, an ink well and a piece of parchment and set to work. Dearest Mother, As I write now, I have just returned from fighting in a war and Shielle stopped and frowned, then winced as pain shot through her right arm. One of Blood's dwarfs had smashed the butt end of his hammer into her elbow, and it still hurt despite the healing potions. A few seconds and a few focused thoughts later however, she had again suppressed the pain and could focus on her letter again. But why? Why write to her mother when the last thing she wanted to do was worry her? No... better then to write to someone who would better understand what she was doing. Shielle s...ped the old parchment and brought out another to start anew. Dear Brother, I must implore that you do not show this to Mother or Father, as it would only cause them concern. Please forgive my shaky handwriting, as I have Once again, Shielle stopped herself. What would this then accomplish? Her brother would understand, she was sure of it. She was also sure that writing all that she had intended would make him seriously consider leaving Voltrex for her sake - and she did not want that. He belonged on Voltrex, not in this strange new world which would no doubt make him miserable. She could not, would be the cause of that. Thus, this letter was discarded as well, leaving her wondering just who she could write to. Not her family. Her Sisters on Voltrex? No - she had gone through so much to prove herself to them, she did not want them to know of her... failure? Yes, failure. Not like this, at least. She would tell them all that had happened, but from her own mouth, not scribbled on parchment. She could not write to Kali either, as she had vanished and Shielle did not know to where. Freldo? Hardly - he was nice, but he was human. He would not understand. Plenarius was out of the question; it seemed fairly obvious to Shielle he would be happier if she stayed away from him and the Leilon Arms entirely. No, all things considered, there was only one she could write to, one who would understand. Sighing to herself, she pulled a new parchment from her scroll case - her last one - and started writing. Dear Shielle, So it has come to this, then. Writing to myself because I have no one else to turn; it is ironic in so many ways, yet so appropriate in others. But so much has happened, so many emotions in me that I don't know how to express... so many thoughts I just have to get out somehow, and with no one to talk to, this is what I have. Perhaps I will even keep this letter to look back to, though I suspect this is a day that I will want to forget before too long. It all started with the rumors I had heard of the final battle in the war against Sinthar Bloodstone growing closer by the day. I had come to be increasingly restless, feeling that this dragoncalling was pointless - after all, what had I accomplished? What difference had my presence in the new lands made? The answers were simple - nothing and none. I had done nothing, helped no one, and come no closer to locating my lost Sisters. This looked as an opportunity for me at the time; healers and defenders would be needed in the war, and as the call for aid was made I would heed it, hoping to save lives. I was both right and wrong, I believe, but I shall get to that later. First I should say that I travelled to the port city of Lorindar on the continent of Dregar, a place I had never visited before. I was not certain what would happen, but the rumors I had heard all pointed to the gathering of the volunteer forces in that location, so it seemed the best way to start. It was also my hope to find more of my Order there, but I was in no such luck. Most likely had they already gone to fight elsewhere. A chance meeting with priestess Alleina Shiante - bless her soul - helped me better prepare for what was to come; she offered supplies I would come to need, but could not stay herself as she was needed elsewhere. She serves Lord Aeridin well, and it is my hope that she did not meet with the same tragedy I was faced with. It was in Lorindar proper that I encountered those who I would come to join on that fateful day however, men and women of many different races who had come to stand against the evil of Sinthar Bloodstone, risking their own lives to stop the invader. There were humans there, of course. Halflings too, dwarves, half-human crossbreeds, even some of the hated drow. Yes, there were those of our own kin too, but few - I was sharply reminded of how far away from home I was even then, and I was the sole representative of Voltrex fighting against a threat against all of Layonara. It was not a happy thought, and one that would set the mood for what was to come. One of the first I spoke to was a paladin protector of Lucinda, a human woman named Matilda Landsend. She startled me with her behavior at first - called me sister and hugged me, but I soon understand what she meant and her reasons for it. This was not just a fateful day, it was the fateful day that would decide the future of Layonara for a very long time to come. Despite her obvious speech impediment, she did her best to raise the spirits of everyone present, though they knew they could be marching to their deaths. She kept this up for as long as I saw her, and it earned her my respect, perhaps even my admiration in some way. She knew what awaited us. She knew she would be fighting on the frontlines. It is likely she was more worried, more afraid of what we were up against than most others, but if so she did not let it show. Matilda would come to lead our group, and she would do it well. After we gathered... a respectable forty or fifty of us, all dragoncalled... it did not take long before we received word of Blood's forces marching against the capital city of Pranzis. It marked the end of any peace that we had. We marched, and as we did, the sensation of impending doom grew stronger. It was not just going into battle, there was more than that... I pointed out to Freldo that something felt very wrong, and although he agreed I do not believe he understood what I meant. Now, in the aftermath of the war, I am afraid I was right. But alas, I am getting ahead of myself. We moved towards Pranzis, and along the way we had to fight Blood's forces more than once. It was chaos - there is no other word to describe it. Many fell on both sides, and it was all I could do to keep myself from being scorched by the arcane magics unleashed across the battlefield. I tried to heal those I could, but it was a difficult task, made moreso by so-called friendly fire. A drow woman called Zanirth by others, an archer supposedly in our own ranks unleashed several arrows at me during the battle, but failed to injure me seriously. It makes me all the more sad that there are those who try to defend their presence on the surface when these things happen, but as much as I would have liked to, I could not press the issue. We needed to move on, into the city, before the remainder of Blood's forces showed. And so we did. I have seen tragedy and despair before, but in the eyes of the humans I saw on the streets, it was obvious they believed themselves to be dead already. A rare few saw a glimmer of hope in our coming, but they were the exceptions. Even the city guard, the soldiers trained to defend the capital looked ready to surrender or flee. There was mention that several already had deserted their posts, leaving their charges unprotected. It made my stomach turn, I cannot describe it as anything else. I understand fear. I know what it is like to feel a lack of hope, to feel as an ant trying to escape the descending foot of a marauding ogre. But these men had themselves chosen to protect others - they had the lives of the entire city on their shoulders, and they fled, leaving those who relied on them to their own fates. Fortunately, some of the bards in our ranks managed to lift the spirits of those present with their music, singing ballads of hope and light triumphing against evil... it has always amazed me just how powerful a force music can be, wielded by those who know how to use it. The rest of us set to work reinforcing the gates and preparing for the imminent battle. I do not know how long it took until the forces finally appeared at the gates, nor do I know how long we fought for. In truth, I do not remember much of the battle itself. It was very, very loud... some of the screams of pain and anguish were louder than the clashes of metal and the sound of boulders striking the wall and gates. There was much blood, too. At one point, as I was moving to force a healing potion down a fallen soldier's throat, I nearly slipped on the flagstones. I looked down to see what was almost a small river of red pouring down the slanted street into a sewer grate. I remember trying to stay out of the way of our warriors while pouring healing potions on the wounded. I remember a human woman... barely out of adolescence, a chainmail tunic covering her body, dying in my arms before I could tend to her wounds... she looked at me with fear and desperation, begging that I take her home to her younger brother, a request I could not grant her, of course. I recall my fists pounding on a planetouched's plate armor over and over, trying to get him to let go of a guard he had seized by the throat. I can also remember Matilda's voice, trying to give hope to the defenders... but mostly, it was all a blur. There were lapses in the battle, too. As the fastest one there, I was runner for our group, taking messages to the others. I also tried so hard to tend to the wounded, but so many died anyway... I don't know how much time passed, but I know they attacked again and again, no matter how many times we pushed them back. It was clear... and still is... that I was no match for Blood's soldiers. I thought I could hit hard, but neither foot nor hand could make a dent in their armor, it seemed. All I could do was try to support the others... and as time passed, I grew more and more frustrated, especially when the defenders started arguing among themselves. The battle had worn on everyone's tempers, and some wanted to rush forward and meet the enemy in a charge, others claimed it was suicide. I still don't know which decision was the right one, nor would it have mattered if I had spoken up about it - I would not have been listened to. There is not much to say about the rest of the battle. It was brutal, and once the demons joined the fray we did not stand a chance. Many, many died. The city surrendered as the enemy controlled everything but the citadel itself... and in honesty, it was only choice they had. Blood's general, Bruegor, offered those who wanted a chance to leave the city, something he was being honest about. We did leave, in defeat... broken and battered, having failed to protect the people of Pranzis and Dregar itself. I do not know what became of the other defenders, nor do I know how I came back to Mistone, or how I came into possession of the banner I had with me when I snapped out of the blur I had been in. It does not matter. What matters is, I was all but useless in the battle, and it cannot continue this way. I look up at the hazy sky, I hear the tales of flights of dragons in the air, and I think to myself - I cannot be weak any longer. I cannot sit and pity myself for being unable to fulfill my duty to the Lifegiver and my Sisterhood as I am. It is time to embrace my heritage and my destiny, whatever it may be. It is time to let go of what was, of my own ineptitude and fears and become strong; not for myself, but for all those who may need someone strong to guide them in whatever future awaits us now. I am Shielle of House Eventide, and I am one of Aeridin's Chosen, a Sister of Rebirth. It is time to act the part.
2
« on: June 25, 2006, 06:35:42 AM »
Good job yeah! Was fun!
3
« on: May 26, 2006, 10:05:31 AM »
Left alongside Kali's note is another, penned in a flowing elven script:
I shall endeavor to meet with you before the opening as you have asked.
Your friend,
Shielle Eventide
4
« on: May 24, 2006, 09:15:40 AM »
Parties cause the most lag of all, more so when they increase in size. *nod*
5
« on: May 23, 2006, 06:08:55 PM »
What I think is odd is non-spellcaster based healing, like... bandages. People who just walk up to someone and start bandaging them without a word, that might land them a slap or two if they do it to the wrong person! *nods*
6
« on: May 19, 2006, 12:44:25 PM »
Hooray! Congratulations!
7
« on: May 18, 2006, 02:39:08 PM »
Dear Brother, I assume that you have heard of where I am and what I am doing by now, and as such I feel I must apologize to you as well. Cae'naar, you are very dear to me and I know you must worry, but I assure you that I can handle myself. I have changed in many ways, Brother, and I am no longer the weak, spoiled girl you may remember as your sister. I have learnt that there are more important matters in this world than what dress to pick up for the next merchant's ball. The mistakes I have made can never be undone, but if I can keep myself from repeating them, perhaps that is repentance enough. I recently had an experience that made me think of you, which is why I am writing - I suppose it can be thought of as an adventure, but it was hardly like in the stories even if it involved the lair of a dragon. It all started in the human town of Hlint, which is a horrible place. Though the guard captain keeps the law, it is hardly a place of peace; spellcasters crudely discharge their magics at random for their amusements, danger lurks just outside the walls and planetouched and crossbreeds walk the streets along with many other races... including the dark elves. Yes, Brother, you read correctly. Drow are tolerated among the other races here, for reasons I cannot fathom. It has been suggested to me that these are drow seeking repentance for the many sins of their race, but it is appaling to me how easily they are trusted, and how little the ones I have encountered actually try to make amends. Even those of our own kin here seem to accept them, but I just cannot bring myself to do the same, given their past. Either way, a drow woman was what this story started with, as I witnessed her in front of an inn in the formerly mentioned town. She was speaking with a few others - two humans and an elf - and I am not ashamed to confess that I was eavesdropping, hoping for some insight into this easily placed trust. None was granted, but that is irrelevant as what came after was what mattered. The scent of cooking from the nearby tavern caused a stir among those gathered for reasons I cannot understand. It was not an unpleasant scent by any stretch of the word, but why they were so surprised that a kitchen would smell of cooking is something I will just have to chalk up to the unpredictable nature of humans. I followed them into the inn, along with a few others - a planetouched human and a mageling (who would come to cause me no small amount of grief) who were also interested, and, sparing you some of the irrelevant details, got myself involved in retrieving a stolen recipe for a halfling cook. Why I would do this, would you ask? It is a good question, since a recipe is a fairly trivial thing to us. In halfling culture however, cuisine is of extreme importance and much of their society seems to be regulated around how much time there is left until their next meal. As such, the loss of a valued recipe to them would be the equivalent of an elven wizard losing one of her most treasured spells from her grimoire which made me simply unable to refuse her plea for assistance. Though in retrospect, plea may not have been the right word to describe it. She promised me and the others samples of her cooking as a reward, and although it was of no interest to me, the very idea of eating excited one of the two male humans, who were brothers, to the degree that he kept interrupting the cook, begging for a morsel to eat. I was considering offering some of my rations, but I had my doubts they would satiate him, given his girth. Now, here I must clarify something. While I would never condone the drow accompanying me on this task under usual circumstances, I did not have much choice in this case, as she was the only one who knew the way. Though I expected her to betray us at any time, none of the others shared such misgivings, instead berating me for distrusting her and even going so far as to accuse me of "judging her by the color of her skin". It fouled my temper and set the tone for the rest of our journey, which was full of argument and disappointment. Not long after we left Hlint for the port of Leilon we came under attack by mephits, of all things. While I had seen mephits as familiars back in Seldarine, those who assaulted us with magic there were different in a way I cannot understand. While we defeated them, what came next almost caused me to abandon this task, regardless of the promise I had made to the halfling. We were attacked again, this time by mercenaries or assassins of some sort. They had laid traps along the road, and one of the human brothers - the one called James Hearth - blundered straight into them, setting them all off and losing his life in an instant. The mercenaries then attacked the rest of us, and James' brother, Robert, went into a rage and threw himself at them. When the battle between our two groups was over, the mercenaries and James were all dead, and it near broke my heart. We had not been on this task long at all, and it had already resulted in bloodshed and death? How could a recipe be worth killing for? Is that the Mistonian way of Life? The loss of life grieved me greatly, though I tried not to let it show to the rest of the group. Though I wanted to reach Leilon as soon as possible, suspecting that these attacks were no coincidence, Robert insisted on taking his brother with him, which of course I could not argue against. What did trouble me however was that they wanted to find a temple to raise him from the dead. I could not intervene, nor could I condone the course of action taken as they borrowed a skiff and took James' corpse to the temple of Mist outside Leilon, where they entrusted him to the servants of Lady Doom. They returned not long thereafter, with the human back alive and his brother Robert gloating to me while explicitely mocking the Cycle of Life. What is wrong with these people to make them act the way they do? Is it their upbringing, the harsh conditions in these savage lands or is it simply because they are human? I have had my doubts about the latter, since I have met several who do behave rationally, but then there are others like the captain of the ship we wished to hire to bring us closer to our goal. I shall spare you the details, Brother, but suffice to say he thought I could be bought like a harlot - and the others, on the same task as me, excepting the elven scout cheered him on. At that point I was about ready to explode, but that would not be in line with the training I have received with the Sisterhood. While I remained in control, a few quips managed to slip out, which I do not regret I spent the entirety of the sea voyage to myself, meditating in a secluded spot below decks, away from the captain and his crew as well as the rest of my travelling companions. My thoughts were troubled however, and focus was not easy to attain. I knew something was not right, and I had the distinct feeling that things were only going to get worse. Unfortunately, I was proven right. Our destination was a large stretch of marshland named the Battle Fens, in which a black dragon had supposedly once taken up residence. Though the lair has stood empty for a fairly long time, we had been warned that the swamps themselves were home to a large number of trolls. If Mother has told you what I have written in the other letters, you will perhaps be able to venture a guess as to what happened next. It was battle, and battle eagerly joined by several in our group. Though we managed to sneak past a majority of the trolls on our way through the swamp with the aid of illusionism, when the spells waned everyone but me saw it as a good idea to simply kill any trolls we came across. You know me, Brother. You know I don't harbor any love for trollkin or such creatures, but never could I have imagined that the prospect of bloodshed was so appealing to some of these people. My memory of our journey through the swamp and into the dragon's cave is practically a haze coupled with the wave of nausea that comes over me every time I think about it. So much blood spilt needlessly. So many lives lost for no real reason at all, even if they were trolls. When I suggested that we attempt to parley with the trolls, as our quarrel was not with them, the humans mocked me with my suggestion, and kept doing so for the rest of the journey. At that point, I was almost ready to shed tears, Brother. These people simply do not care. They were the ones snipping off troll fingers and storing them in their packs as we went along, and I was the one mocked, and for trying to avoid a conflict, no less. What happened next is not important - we eventually found the recipe and brought it back to the halfling, who offered us gold and rations in return. I would have none of it. As I left the drunken revelry of the Hearth brothers behind me, I barely made it out of Hlint before I started weeping. I miss Voltrex so, Cae'naar. Everything and everyone is different here, and I sometimes feel as if this continent is tainted, and that if I stay here long enough the bloodthirst and lack of caring shall consume me as well. Then I think of my family, of my Sisters and of Aeridin, and I feel more at ease. I miss you all terribly, but I know I can manage. I merely wish I could find something in this land to prove that violence is not the only way, but so far it seems war and death is the norm, and my belief is the exception. Be well, Brother. I promise to write again soon, but I have written far more than I had intended already. Walk in Life, With love, Shielle Within moments, the letter had been consumed by the campfire, its dancing light reflecting off Shielle's sapphire eyes as she stared into its depths, feeling more lonely than she had in a very long time.
8
« on: May 14, 2006, 12:33:52 PM »
The flagstones on the end of the stone pier had cooled down a long time ago as the shroud of night had wrapped itself around the city of Leilon. The sun's light had given way to the soft, silken touch of the twin moons - a welcome sight to Shielle, who had sat down cross-legged with her back to a large crate, concealing her from the rest of the city. While the sound of the bustling port had died down along with the daylight, it was in no way devoid of activity - there were still a fair amount of sailors, dockworkers and others milling about, but the elven woman had chosen her secluded spot carefully, knowing that she would most likely not be disturbed as she was writing her letter, the second since she arrived on Mistone. Dearest Mother, It is my hope that what I wrote in my previous letter did not upset you or Father, but I understand that it may not have been the easiest of news to take in all at once. Thus, I decided to write again to clarify some of the things I mentioned before, in the hopes that you may better know what life is like in this land. First of all, let me say that though it is very different from home, and a much less civilized place, there are exceptions to this rule. You need not worry for my sake, for although being here constitutes a trial in itself, it is one I am confident I can pass. Now, I feel I should elaborate on the circumstances of my arrival here first of all. As I mentioned in my previous letter, I had volunteered for the journey myself along with three other Sisters, and we all knew that we may indeed never be allowed to return, and accepted it. We actually knew very little of our task beforehand, but the Sister on Mistone who had sent for assistance claimed it was of utmost urgency, and it is not the way of the Sisterhood to turn down a request for aid, especially not from a fellow Sister. So it came to be that we found ourselves on a sea journey with the human city of Leilon as our port of call, which was also the location we were to rendezvous with our Sister - but, as it happened, I was spirited away from the ship in the midst of night by a form of summoning magic unlike any I had experienced before. I estimate we had completed no more than half of our journey when it happened, but in an instant I found myself on Mistone itself, without the rest of my Sisters. Shielle put her quill aside, pondering what she had just written for a moment. She could of course go on to tell of her experience within the dragon dream, but would there be a point to it? Would her mother even believe her? More likely that it would sound fabricated, just because it was so unlikely. Better then to leave it out, letting the how and why of her summoning to Mistone remain a mystery. Being alone in this strange land was extremely difficult at first, especially since the other Sisters were meant to guide me, as they were all further along in their training than I am. Without their advice and support I was left to rely on myself, but knowing Aeridin is with me has bolstered my confidence; I shall persevere, endure and adapt, even if I am not reunited with my Sisters. I still have hopes of locating them, as I travelled to Leilon by foot to meet them, but of those I have asked, none have seen our ship dock yet. This troubles me, as it leads me to believe something has happened to them along their journey. However, I have been offered assistance by a kind and compassionate woman of our own kin, Kali, who owns an inn in this city. It is strange to me that she would intentionally want to live among humans, but the niche she has carved out for herself is incredible - her establishment appeals to members of all races, and I admit there is something about the place that makes me feel at ease as well. Kali has not only offered to keep her eyes and ears open for news of my Sisters, but has also given me shelter from the elements - though I do not mind spending time in the forests, the weather here is cold and rainy, and being able to stay within the city itself would make it easier for me to locate our ship if and when it docks. In return, I in turn offered my assistance to her, which she accepted in a way I had not anticipated - she wishes me to sell and serve beverages to her customers. I know how that must sound to you, but I could not say no - though I am uncomfortable doing it, it is the least I can do to repay Kali's hospitality. Besides, it has given me an interesting opportunity to study the other cultures I have encountered here, which has truly been a mixed experience. To elaborate on what I wrote about the humans before, they truly make for a diverse, almost random race, both in behavior and appearance. It does become more and more apparent that much of their culture revolves around finding a mate, most likely because they live such short lives. This has a tendency of making them edgy and sometimes even irrational, going so far as to suspecting others of the same gender as competition, creating rivalries that run very, very deep. Those who already have found mates seem considerably more mellow however, and have proven to be less confusing to deal with. Though I admit it was not a surprise to me, I have witnessed several humans seek companionship within our race, which is undoubtedly the reason why so many half-humans exist in this land. This is somewhat unsettling to me, but as none of those involved in these relationships seem to think of it as anything but positive, it is not my place to pass judgement. The dwarven race is one I do not care much for so far, but I admit it may be due to a lack of understanding - many of them have a thick accent, and I am still not entirely used to speaking Common all the time. It makes it difficult for me to understand the nuances when speaking to a dwarf - if nuances truly exist. Most, but not all, of the dwarves I have encountered have been loud, boarish and rude in behavior, to the point of being obnoxious to spend time around. Again, I have seen exceptions to this rule, but it seems to be amplified greatly with the consumption of alcohol which is done liberally in dwarven culture. Personal hygiene does not seem highly valued among dwarfs, either. I have seen another race, if it can be called that, that deserves a mention - the giantkin, or half-giants. Though not a true race, as they are hybrids with one human and one giant-kin parent, they are numerous enough to be seen rather often, and seen they are! They are lumbering hulks, most to the point of having to duck before entering any buildings here. Their physical strength is clearly superior, but their mental faculties are for the most part dimunitive at best; but, despite their flaws, I have seen kind hearts behind their hideous exteriors. One in particular, who I witnessed in Leilon, seemed almost a child trapped in the body of an ogre - shy, gentle and kind. While I admit their physical appearance makes me wary of approaching them, I have found myself enjoying having them about. Such are examples of these lands; very different from our own, and not ones I wish to stay in my entire life, but they certainly make for interesting experiences. Though I feel lost still, my horizons are definitely expanding - perhaps, with time, I will reunite with my purpose for coming here and seek my destiny here on Mistone. When that is done, I shall perhaps be able to return to our home and Seldarine. Until then, know that you are all in my thoughts and my heart. Walk in Life, Your daughter, Shielle This time, Shielle did not bother re-reading her letter in its entirety, or even let the ink dry. As she had finished it, she had felt herself grow more and more restless - a lack of discipline she did not wish to afford herself. Thus, she quickly folded the parchment in two, then again, and again. Finally, she tore it in half, then tore the halves before holding her hand out over the edge of the pier to let the shreds sprinkle down across the surface of the water where she watched them scatter. Sighing softly, she got to her feet and made her way back into the city proper, ignoring the looks the remaining dockworkers gave her.
9
« on: May 01, 2006, 07:08:25 PM »
Here is Shielle Eventide's custom portrait pack!
10
« on: April 19, 2006, 01:37:45 PM »
12
« on: May 08, 2006, 11:44:04 AM »
Shielle sat cross-legged before the last dying embers of the fireplace that had illuminated the common room of the tavern. She was wearing the robes of her order - the only set of clothes she had found herself in this new land with - and to her displeasure, they had already started to show the wear and tear of heavy use. Despite their condition they were clean with a faint scent of wildflowers - one of few luxuries she still allowed herself. In her lap was a small wooden board with a single piece of blank parchment spread out over it. Shielle's quill, made from a falcon's feather, was in her hand and a tiny ink well was placed on the floor next to her. She had been meaning to write this for a while, but had put it off repeatedly; wanting to write a letter is one thing, but knowing what to write is another entirely. Regardless, she dipped her quill in the inkwell, then put it to the parchment, forming a delicate, flowing script in the elven language. Dearest Mother, Please allow me to apologize for how long overdue this letter is. I know you have not heard from me in the longest time, and I can only say that I hope my absence has not been the cause for too much worry. I know how Father can get, but I assure you, I am very much safe and well. While I am certain you are not pleased with some of the decisions I have made, I know if anyone must understand why I made them, and why I continue to make them. I can only hope that I am not too much of a disappointment in the eyes of you or Father. Are my brothers well? Is Caenaar training with the Bladesingers yet? I so wish I could have been there to see him achieve his dream, but it shall have to wait. Likewise, I hope Cale'daar is enjoying his position as much as he did when I left. He will make our family proud, I am certain of it. Also, if you can, please give Miaenna's family my best. I should have done it myself a long time ago, and hope to be able to sometime in the future. At this point, Shielle paused and frowned slightly to herself. She dreaded writing the next part, because she knew how her family would react to it... but after a few moments of hesitation, she let out a soft sigh and set herself to writing again. Mother, I know you will not approve of this, but I feel it is important that I let you know nonetheless. I have left Voltrex on a mission for the Sisterhood, and as you know that means it is quite unlikely that I shall be returning to our homeland any time soon. I understand the consequences of this, and I know it is not the news you wanted to hear, but it was important that I did, for many reasons. Though I cannot go into the details of this task, as in truth I do not know them myself, the Sister who sent the call for aid sounded quite urgent in her request, which is why I and several others of the Sisterhood volunteered to travel here, to Mistone. In a sequence of events I do not entirely understand myself, I was seperated from the rest of my Sisters during the journey, and now I await their arrival in a human port known as Leilon. These lands are every bit as savage as I have been told, mother. Violence is everywhere; goblins ambush travellers, the undead lurk underneath the villages and the forests themselves are in turmoil and attack the unwary. It is nothing like our home, and I feel that it is difficult to find peace here, which can also be attributed to the inhabitants of this strange land. Humans are a strange breed, impatient and concerned mostly with completely trivial matters - what I have observed of their mating rituals is of special note, as it makes them prone to extremely irrational behavior. Meanwhile, many are rude and presumptuous, and most carry a rather unsettling scent about them... but of course, there are exceptions. I have witnessed both compassion and kindness among human-kind, and seen several who rise above the rest to concern themselves with more important matters than the number of crudely brewed alcoholic beverages they can consume. Several males and females alike have been quite accomodating in helping me adjust to human culture, and without their assistance I readily admit I would have felt much more confused than I am anyway. It is late however, and now I must return to my meditations; I have made the acquaintance of the proprietor of an inn here in Leilon, and it is my hope that she will be able to assist me, or at least give me insight into my current situation. Please give my best to the rest of our family, and know that though I may be far away, my thoughts are with you, Walk in Life, Your daughter, Shielle The elven woman dipped her hand into a small pouch of sand, then sprinkled it gently over the parchment. She bit her lip as she read through what she had written, then nodded in satisfaction. A slight twinge of loss touched her heart - while coming here was her decision, she knew there was much she would miss back home. She sat there for a while, alone in the common room, staring into the dying fire, letting her thoughts blend in with her growing weariness until she snapped back to reality. Letting out the softest of sighs, she picked up the letter after having made sure the ink was dry, rolled it up, then tied it together with a blue cloth ribbon. She leaned forward, planting a light kiss on the tied knot... and threw the letter into the fireplace, watching as the edges of the parchment inevitably started blackening and moments later bursting into flame. By the time the scroll had been consumed by the fire, Shielle had already left the room.
13
« on: May 04, 2006, 08:06:52 AM »
A skeleton in the Hlint crypts beat me up just a little while ago, and I went into negative hitpoints but immediately stabilized and started healing back up - literally less than a second after I fell. I proceeded to lay down the Kung ElFu on the skeleton and dragged my wounded elven butt out of the crypt, but then realized my character portrait had stayed as the "flashing death skull", and not reverted to my original one (f_shielle). It appears to be saved to my character, as logging out and back in didn't fix it.
Pages: [1]
|
Forums
Show Posts