The sword and the smile - Maz

[Rasterick]

Week 1 - Leaf Gold

  Share Day

 As I looked out in front of me, my gaze settled on the Cloud shrouded tops of the Greypeak Mountains. This is and always will be my home. I will return to behold your beauty every now and again. do not mourn for me, for I have not gone forever.   Barter Day

 I have learned to deal with sorrow, grief and all the pain that absence brings. My life has been full of these, but now, I step forward, not dwelling in the hurt and saddness.   Worship Day

 Arriving in Hlint, I find that it is a melting pot of peoples, races and origins. People and creatures that I have only read of in books. The first people I meet, invite me on a hunt, I duly oblige and discover that there is trouble all about, but the way that some warm to a stranger is most comforting.   My strangest encounter was with an half giant called Daggs, a freindly and amiable chap. Living where I did, our lives were always blighted by these tall ones, their insatiable hunger and complete disregard for others made them the bane of our lands. It is odd now when I look back, I see Daggs as a friend, and within him is a kind soul, and warm heart.   Council Day

 The men of this land are a brash and self assured bunch, their eyes follow you everywhere, their words attempt flattery and they see women as weak and helpless.  I hope I never have to give one a good beating for overstepping the bounds of common courtesy.  Dorena an Elf and Lence an Orcish man helped me in the crypts, the task of getting the soul of the shade made easier by their council. Had to throw my best leather armour away, no matter how I tried, I could not scrub the smell of death from them Met a magic flinger girl today, Iris her name, it was nice to have a female to talk with. It amazes me how she can keep that beautifu l orange dress of hers clean. I bet there is magic at work somewhere  Friend Day

 Lost my temper today, not proud of myself. An annoying little gnome did not heed my warning, and persisted in his silly antics of running round me and others. I warned him, and even threatened him by hanging him upside down over the well. I must learn to quell the  rage that burns within. If I see him again, I will  do my best to apologise.   Met a pleasant man today, he seemed honest and fair, not once did he gaze at me in the way others do. He spoke to me as an equal, and not once did he comment on my face, eys, legs etc etc..... His only failing, he claimed to be a bard, Ha!, thats a laugh, he tried singing a song of his own composition, the noise was excruicating, and sounded like a mountain cat caught in a trap. But his skill with the bow would shame many a man of my clan.  I will look forward to meeting Garic again.  A girl needs all the friends she can get.   I wonder what next week has in store???

[Rasterick]

One week ago.

From the land of my fathers, to the halls of the ancestors. My journey will be long and arduous, fraught with danger, filled with challenges and paved with heartache.

I am ready for all that is to be  thrown at me, the only fear I have is of that  fear itself.

On the eve of darkness, a suns turn ago, I ventured to a place that is so alien to me. Deep in the woods of spiders (a name coined by Annun) lies a caves entrance, hidden by leaf shedding trees. Upon entering, the path leads you into vast caverns and man made tunnels.  There I faced the dog faced creatures, that my companions called Kobolds. We fought and overcome the horde,  along with their allies, Bugbears and the shimmering square rocks.

My companions mined the soft metal that abounds there, I was not comfortable, the feeling of the walls closing in on me, crushing me, made my heart race. I felt the rage rising inside me. I had to get out. I paced around, sword drawn. Goading my friends to haste their mining.  Eventually they did, after what seemed like ages.

The air, once we emerged was a tonic, the sky above me, the trees, the sound of the wind. My rage quelled.

Outside the gates of Hlint, we parted ways, the four going to Hlint to forge swords. I ventured North, the three day journey through the mountains to Lar. I arrived home shortly before nightfall, my father was home, having just returned from the fish market. The joy on his face upon seeing me warmed my heart. We spoke of things past and things ahead, of ancestors and battles, of brave deeds and love and war.

When finally I retired to my bed, sleep came easily, the warm bear skins and smell of pine resin on the fire eased me to my slumber. Dreams came,  I found myself looking at faces I do not know, their voices uttering strange words. Strange lights and sounds filled my eyes and ears; the by product of a shamens work. On the crest of a nearby hill, a funeral pyre, unlit, the body on top, in armour of silver, his sword and shield of a design I have not seen before. Its unshaven face turns towards me, eyes still and cold, the young face of a man,   familiar yet unrecognisable. The mouth opened, from it fell a square of purple cloth, so similar to the piece my husband returned with, all those years ago. Then air crackling, the pyre was consumed by flame. The dream was gone...

In the morning, my mind found it hard to recall my previous nights dream. As I packed my thing to leave, I oddly found myself placing the sqaure of cloth that had returned with my husband, on his final journey home. Upon closer inspection of it, I saw it looked a all respects like something i had seen in a dream, but I just couldn't remember the the dream. Perhaps another night my dream will come again..

Last night

The dream came again, exactly as it had a week ago at my fathers house. Who are these people? this young man? what does it all mean? maybe nothing at all, just the fantasies of a silly girl.

[Rasterick]

I have never been a great one for writing.  Whenever i rummage though my belongings, I almost always happen upon my journal; a leaving present from my father before I left home. He said that I should try and add a few words every so often; so that when I came to look back on my days, I could, hold my head high, for it would contain the truth of my existance.

When did I ever listen to anyone? I hadleft the book in the bottom of my pack, it bacame bent and the leather cover stained from the leaking bottle of potion  I had left in there.  So I have taken the journal out, and made an attempt to make it look presentatble again. With my newly aquirred skill of leather craft, I have re-covered it , straightened it out and now sit beneath the shade of a tree, ready to write again..

[Rasterick]

I never really know what to write.  Should I make it like a diary? or like a story?

*Maz sits beneath the tree pondering this dilema*

The air is still and quiet, the few birds that take to the skies, perform their aerial acrobatics above Maz's head. She has been busy of late, and all the lack of sleep is starting to catch up with her. After a a few moments of excessive blinking and nodding. She fianlly succumbs to the land of slumber.

It is a peacefull sleep, and while she lies curled up beneath the ash tree on the outskirts of Hlint, her eyelids flutter rapidly, and her breathing becomes slow and deep.

She finds herself standing outside a forest glade, behind her, a vast mountain range sends it magnificent snow covered peaks into the clouds. The sun, high in the azure sky, indicates it is the height of summer. Thirty paces away, a crystal clear stream; its waters fed by the steady flow from the mountain spirngs, singing its song as it tumbles over the rounded stones and boulders. Close to the stream, their feet dangling in the cool water, sit a man and a boy. Their profiles look the same, only age differntiates them. Same rich brown hair, deep brown eyes and distinct nose. Neither could deny the close close bond of a father and son that exists between the two, they are taking of things that matter only to them, their warm smiles meant for only each other.

The piece of string in the boys hand, trails into the stream, the piece of cork bobbing and weaving in the current marks the point where it changes it angle sharply and extends below the surface. The cork suddenly twitches unnatually, and begins to traverse the stream, defying the streams flow; tightening the string in the process,  in turn tugging the eight year olds hand. The comic converstion stops, and the miniture version of his father jumps to his feet, screaming with excitemement. The man stands also, smiling proudly at his son, as the boy attempts to drag his quarry from its natural environment.

Within a few moments, the silvery stream dweller is on the bank. Its twitching form trying to effect its escape back to the water. All to no avail, the boy is too quick, he pounces on the trout and scoops it further away from its home. But these monsters can be slippery customers; its powerful body gives one last flick, its broad tail slapping the lad's cheek, momentarily forcing to loosen his grip. The trout now released sees this as its last chance, and makes a bid for freedom; rolling down the bank, over and over. Into the arms of the man who has positioned himself imediately in its escape route. His grip holds firm, and as if the fish realises the futility of it all, finally gives in, and slowly gasps its last laboured breaths in relative stillness.

Both Father and son, burst into sponteanous laughter, their joy complementing the natural beauty of their surroundings, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Maz sees the couple clearly now, the man; well over six feet tall is broad and muscular, his face is tanned and rugged. Noticing Maz looking at him, he smiles and beckons her over, his lips form words, but issue no sound. The boy, a minuture version of the man, waves and also moves his mouth, his lips come together and then open out from the sides, and then open with hi stounge touching the botom lip, forming a word that Maz never called anyone to their face. She smiles naturally and moves forward.  Dropplets of water splash on her face, the peal of thunder echoes it mighty roar in the distance. The water hitting her face become steadily more intense, until it is now a steady pitter patter on her right cheek.

She jumps up with a start, dissorientated from just awakening, her eyes still attempting to register her surroundings, and thus provide her with a clue of here whereabouts, take a few blinks to focus. Instead of a mountain range and stream, she sees the large round timbers that form Hlints outer wall. Instead of a father and son admiring their catch, is the familar face of her friend Garic, his eyes closed and gazing skyward into the shower.

Garic senses the movement and opens his eyes, looking at Maz's startled face, he smiles, closes his eyes and returns to the internal examination of his eyelids. The shower quickly abates, the fresh smell of ozone permeates the air, and just beyond the treeline behind Garic, a magnifient arch of colour traverses the horizon; red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet make it a calming sight, one that contradictes the distant rumble of the dissaperaing storm.

Maz now wide awake, reflects on her dream, and the word the boy uttered at her, the word she could not hear, but a word that  most women laong to hear; Mother.......

So many questions now, all without answers. Only a dream she tells herself, or was it? Or was it a view of things to be? Or maybe one of those dreams that form from the subconcious desires and wants of the deep recesses of the mind?

*Maz sighs, and pens a few word s in the journal*

I must remember to buy myself a new bow, the one I have has a shake in its belly, and if I use it again, no doubt it will snap at the most awkward moment.

*Maz closes the journal and places it back in her pack. She stands; bids Garic goodbye; and walks off in the direction of Krandor. As she ambles away she has one burning thought in her mind, a desire that needs sating; fire grilled trout.....*

[Rasterick]

*Sitting in the clover outside Hlint, Maz takes out her notebook an begins to write* There are some things in this world that are more important than fame and fortune; when weighed up against these things, family and friends far outweigh all the gold in the world. Some realise this, some do not, and their lives are poorer for it.  I met a Druid the other night, a halfling named Bido, we sat and talked as if we were brother and sister, about nothing in particular at all, just talked. It was so nice to break from the turmoil and trouble that walks this land. We are so different, yet so alike. Everyone needs friends.  Later I sat and talked with another friend, a friend of many months. I understand his pain and sorrow, for as we talked I noticed similarities betweeen my past and the situation he finds himself in now. To know that others have faced and overcome their sorrrows, gives you the strength to win through. I do hope he can put his sorrow behind him, he is far to nice to let saddness taint his life for to long. If I have judged him correctly he will come through, and be the man he once was.   Has Earg got any friends? or are those he meets in the Inn, just friends of the bottle? he wanders around town, looking in windows, sneaking up behind people, and sometimes just standing and staring. If you try and talk to him, he is always polite, but he has such a cold disposition, and all his conversations turn to his work.   So it seems that the trouble maker has left, their idle gossip, whispers and half truths have done no one any good, turning men against their brothers. What troubles me, is why did they do this? what did they stand to gain? I am certain that they knew not what they were setting in motion. Every word, smile and move, played out like a game, a game where the prize for the loser is saddness and sorrow, with no winners.  What of me, what am I to become? there is a path for everyone to follow., but I have yet to find mine.  I have all I need now, let the big adventure begin. *Maz closes the notebook, and places it back in her pack, stands and walks towards Lake Ibnoune. As she walks she sings a song that has been with her since she was a child. A song about a star that lost its sparkle, and how a small girls helped it shine again. As she sang the last words of the last verse "The star and the child, both bright and beautiful", she chuckled to herself. Stopped and smiled*