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[FR] Seven Swords of Myth Drannor...[Updated 2-4...A Mother's Lullaby]
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<blockquote data-quote="Celtavian" data-source="post: 1325419" data-attributes="member: 5834"><p><strong>A mother's lullaby...</strong></p><p></p><p><em>“A weapon is an evil thing if the hand that wields it lacks compassion or mercy or justice, traits true heroes regard as the entire reason to ever take up arms.”</em> –Salvanar Nedri</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><em>Eleasis 24, 1372…</em></p><p></p><p> The fourth day of the journey started out much as the others had with the eight companions breaking their fast on dry, salty meats and hard cheese before leaving the confines of yet another dark and musty abandoned manse for the sunlit ruins. Once above, they slunk through the city like small animals avoiding the attention of hungry predators moving from bush to wall to shadowy doorway taking hours to traverse a few miles. </p><p></p><p>Shortly after midday as the sun reached its apex, a soft song came lilting through the air like a summer breeze. Hoping to meet a friend, they followed the song coming to a slightly ajar oak gate bearing the arms of some elven noble house long ago forgotten set into tall, cracked, ivy-covered walls surrounding a great stone manse.</p><p></p><p>They stood in a line pressing their backs and shoulders to the ivy-covered wall listening, heads cocked and ears prickly.</p><p></p><p>Moments passed…</p><p></p><p>“The singer is an elven lady…she sings a child’s song…” Phallon sang softly, “…<em>Night has come, the stars doth shine… the moon mother is watching…go to sleep, my sweet child</em>...It is ‘The Moon Mother’s Song’, a song of Sehanine Moonbow though we dark elves name the Moon Mother Eilistraee, every elven child has heard it save perhaps the children of wild elves and subterranean dark elves. Our mother used to sing it to us when we were young.”</p><p></p><p>“I have never heard this song. You will have to sing it to me sometime my lady” said Uthar’zen.</p><p></p><p>“As you wish, my love” said Phallon sharing a soft, longing gaze with her handsome lover.</p><p></p><p>“Sister, how is it that an elven woman and her babe has come to Myth Drannor? This place is far too dangerous for such as them. And does she not know it is day?” said Thourne.</p><p></p><p>“I have the same questions, sister. We should approach. If need be, we shall take her and her babe to safety.”</p><p></p><p>“We may scare her off if we approach. Other elves do not love us though we are not their enemies” said Thourne sadly.</p><p></p><p>“I can approach with you. Perhaps my presence may comfort the elven lady. She may have walked through a magical gate and become lost in the city. Or it may be a trap. Or…” Celtavian paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his normally emotionless mask, “…it may be that she is a remnant of the past, some restless spirit unable to cross over to Arvandor.”</p><p></p><p>“It may be. The rest of you stay here, but be ready. Just in case it is a trap” said the twins. </p><p></p><p>“We will listen carefully” said Vaevictus.</p><p></p><p>“And come if needed” said Holly quietly unsheathing her greatsword.</p><p></p><p>The others consented.</p><p></p><p>“Celtavian, come” said the twins.</p><p></p><p>Phallon gently pushed open the oak gate, and then she, Thourne, and Celtavian stole into the courtyard. Within were apple and cherry trees and rose bushes and overgrown grass untended since the fall of the city. They wove their way through the overgrowth; there eyes searching for the singer, the lovely voice from afar that should not be in this ruin full of evil. After traveling no more than fifty yards, they came upon her.</p><p></p><p> “There she is… near the great house” said the twins from the shadows of an apple tree.</p><p></p><p> “I see her as well…just as I suspected” said Celtavian who was crouched behind a hedge of rose bushes several feet to the left of the apple tree.</p><p></p><p> Not far from where they were hidden stood an elven lady, tall and fair with auburn hair. She was alone gazing up at a large, jagged hole with blackened edges on the second story of the great stone manse that the walls surrounded, nearby were a set of steps leading to double doors that were nothing more than fragments of wood and rusty hinges. The elven lady wore mail that should have shown brightly in the sun, yet it did not, and she carried a long spear with a metal head and a wooden haft. Or so it seemed from afar, but after carefully observing they saw that she and all that she wore and held was a sculpture of translucent mist; a ghostly remnant of the past animated by some unknown sorrow or unfulfilled duty keeping her from passing over to Arvandor, the heaven of the elves. </p><p></p><p> “She is indeed a ghost…what now?” said Celtavian his voice showing no hint of fear.</p><p></p><p> “We approach and reveal ourselves” said the twins with wide eyes, “Let us hope that she does not seek to do us harm. We have never met a ghost.”</p><p></p><p> The blue-eyed wizard nodded, “I shall follow a short distance behind. I see no other dangers or hidden magic. Still…be wary.”</p><p></p><p> “We always are” said the twins. They said a short prayer to Eilistraee, then walked forward hands upraised and palms out taking up the ‘The Moon Mother’s Song’ with voices as soft and sweet as songbirds.</p><p></p><p>Celtavian walked a few feet behind them methodically studying the ghostly elven woman.</p><p></p><p>She turned, her ethereal green eyes upon them filled with misty tears falling in a continuous stream, each teardrop a ghostly wisp disappearing after falling from her cheeks. The anguish upon her face was as telling as a smile and pained the tender hearts of the drow women.</p><p></p><p>“Who sings with me…drow I see…but what drow know the songs of the <em>Tel-quessir</em>” she asked in a soft and wary tone.</p><p></p><p>“Drow who serve the Dark Maiden know the songs of the <em>Tel-quessir</em>” said the twins.</p><p></p><p>“We sing such songs often” said Phallon.</p><p></p><p>“Strange…have the drow conquered the <em>Tel-quessir</em> and stolen our songs?” </p><p></p><p>“Nay…they have not…” said the twins. They moved to within a longsword’s length of the ghostly elven woman.</p><p></p><p>“Then why are there drow singing <em>Tel-quessir</em> songs while walking in Myth Drannor…has our city fallen?”</p><p></p><p>“Yea…Myth Drannor has fallen…it is no more save in sorrowful memory and the songs of bards” said Phallon.</p><p></p><p>“A pity…I wondered why no one had come to help me…I’ve waited for so long…I cannot even remember how long...how long has it been since the city fell?” asked the ghostly elven woman. </p><p></p><p></p><p>“It has been over 600 years since the fall of Myth Drannor” said the twins.</p><p></p><p>She sighed sadly, “…and yet the orc remains keeping me from my child…600 years…” she stared off contemplating the revelation, “One endless day of misery it seems to me.” </p><p></p><p>“This orc you speak of…Is that what saddens you so?”</p><p></p><p>She looked again at the twins, “yes…’the orc’ is the harbinger of my sorrow…the orc bars the way to my child…he is in that room…the room beyond the hole…my child and this orc” she pointed a ghostly finger at the blackened hole on the second story, “There he stands vigilant watch over my sweet Arrian, my dear sweet child. He tells me that I shall never see Arrian again. The foul thing…how can it be allowed to keep me from my child?” She let out a sorrowful wail, “GIVE ME MY CHILD.”</p><p></p><p>An evil voice growled from beyond the blackened hole in simple common, “NO CHILD ELF WHORE.” </p><p></p><p>“That is ‘the orc’” she said eyes falling to the ground, “he torments me. I want only to see my child laid to rest, yet ‘the orc’ will not let me have him.”</p><p></p><p>The twins eyes narrowed as they gazed at the blackened hole, “We will help you lay your child to rest…fear not, the Power of Eilistraee will prevail.”</p><p></p><p>“You will help me? Drow will help a sun elf? How strange” her ghostly green eyes flickered with hope.</p><p></p><p>“Some dark elves are not drow” said the twins, “And we would help a sister elf be she sun or moon or wood…for love of our kin.”</p><p></p><p>“It is said that long ago drow were once <em>Tel-quessir</em>…now I know it to be true…I am the Lady Melithra Ventiyar of House Ventiyar. It is a pleasure to meet my dark elven kin.” </p><p></p><p>“We are…” said the twins.</p><p></p><p>“…Phallon…” said Phallon.</p><p></p><p>“…and Thourne…” said Thourne.</p><p></p><p>“…Spidermoon” the twins finished the sentence, “By the sword of the Dark Maiden we swear we shall rescue your child and help lay him to rest.”</p><p></p><p>The elven lady’s eyes glanced back to Celtavian, “And you sir? What of you? You look like a moon elf, yet you seem not so elven to me. Will you help as well?”</p><p></p><p>“I am half-sun elf” the blue-eyed mage said “… My name is Celtavian Magerius, son of Natherian Magerius, the Magesword of Evermeet and I would be remiss in my duties were I not to aid my father’s people…Of course I will help.”</p><p></p><p>“The Magerius family is well-known amongst the elves of Myth Drannor. It is an honor to meet the son of the Magesword.” Melithra bowed.</p><p></p><p>“It is an honor to meet you as well Lady Melithra of House Ventiyar.” Celtavian bowed in return.</p><p></p><p>“Come Melithra. We must speak with our friends. You must tell us of this orc. We wish to know what we fight.” </p><p></p><p>“I will tell you all I know of that foul thing…though it might be better if I show you” said Melithra, “then you will know my sorrow true.”</p><p></p><p>“Show us? Can ghosts still enter the reverie?” said the twins curiously.</p><p></p><p>“Yes…I can show you, though it will not be in a manner typical of elven reverie. I no longer rest as I did when I lived. Let us go.”</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Thourne and Melithra were joined, souls intertwined, consciousnesses merged, memories shared, no longer could either determine which memories were their own and which were the others. They were one sharing the lives of two. And swift and swirling came the maelstrom of memories to their unified spirits and minds. Melithra’s first dancing lesson…upon the fresh green grass of Moondancers Glen within the Cormanthor where Thourne’s mother taught her and Phallon the first steps of the ‘The Sword Dance’. Thourne’s first silver dress...made by Thentia Lavelliar, one of the finest seamstresses in Myth Drannor, radiant pink and red, constructed of the finest silk fringed with roses along the sleeves and neck. Thusly, the two elven women bared themselves, living from moment to moment the others life. Darkness did not enter their youthful memories until the coming of the Fall of Myth Drannor. Of that dark time, Melithra had only sad memories and Thourne had none at all having not yet been born.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Celtavian, post: 1325419, member: 5834"] [b]A mother's lullaby...[/b] [i]“A weapon is an evil thing if the hand that wields it lacks compassion or mercy or justice, traits true heroes regard as the entire reason to ever take up arms.”[/i] –Salvanar Nedri [i]Eleasis 24, 1372…[/i] The fourth day of the journey started out much as the others had with the eight companions breaking their fast on dry, salty meats and hard cheese before leaving the confines of yet another dark and musty abandoned manse for the sunlit ruins. Once above, they slunk through the city like small animals avoiding the attention of hungry predators moving from bush to wall to shadowy doorway taking hours to traverse a few miles. Shortly after midday as the sun reached its apex, a soft song came lilting through the air like a summer breeze. Hoping to meet a friend, they followed the song coming to a slightly ajar oak gate bearing the arms of some elven noble house long ago forgotten set into tall, cracked, ivy-covered walls surrounding a great stone manse. They stood in a line pressing their backs and shoulders to the ivy-covered wall listening, heads cocked and ears prickly. Moments passed… “The singer is an elven lady…she sings a child’s song…” Phallon sang softly, “…[i]Night has come, the stars doth shine… the moon mother is watching…go to sleep, my sweet child[/i]...It is ‘The Moon Mother’s Song’, a song of Sehanine Moonbow though we dark elves name the Moon Mother Eilistraee, every elven child has heard it save perhaps the children of wild elves and subterranean dark elves. Our mother used to sing it to us when we were young.” “I have never heard this song. You will have to sing it to me sometime my lady” said Uthar’zen. “As you wish, my love” said Phallon sharing a soft, longing gaze with her handsome lover. “Sister, how is it that an elven woman and her babe has come to Myth Drannor? This place is far too dangerous for such as them. And does she not know it is day?” said Thourne. “I have the same questions, sister. We should approach. If need be, we shall take her and her babe to safety.” “We may scare her off if we approach. Other elves do not love us though we are not their enemies” said Thourne sadly. “I can approach with you. Perhaps my presence may comfort the elven lady. She may have walked through a magical gate and become lost in the city. Or it may be a trap. Or…” Celtavian paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his normally emotionless mask, “…it may be that she is a remnant of the past, some restless spirit unable to cross over to Arvandor.” “It may be. The rest of you stay here, but be ready. Just in case it is a trap” said the twins. “We will listen carefully” said Vaevictus. “And come if needed” said Holly quietly unsheathing her greatsword. The others consented. “Celtavian, come” said the twins. Phallon gently pushed open the oak gate, and then she, Thourne, and Celtavian stole into the courtyard. Within were apple and cherry trees and rose bushes and overgrown grass untended since the fall of the city. They wove their way through the overgrowth; there eyes searching for the singer, the lovely voice from afar that should not be in this ruin full of evil. After traveling no more than fifty yards, they came upon her. “There she is… near the great house” said the twins from the shadows of an apple tree. “I see her as well…just as I suspected” said Celtavian who was crouched behind a hedge of rose bushes several feet to the left of the apple tree. Not far from where they were hidden stood an elven lady, tall and fair with auburn hair. She was alone gazing up at a large, jagged hole with blackened edges on the second story of the great stone manse that the walls surrounded, nearby were a set of steps leading to double doors that were nothing more than fragments of wood and rusty hinges. The elven lady wore mail that should have shown brightly in the sun, yet it did not, and she carried a long spear with a metal head and a wooden haft. Or so it seemed from afar, but after carefully observing they saw that she and all that she wore and held was a sculpture of translucent mist; a ghostly remnant of the past animated by some unknown sorrow or unfulfilled duty keeping her from passing over to Arvandor, the heaven of the elves. “She is indeed a ghost…what now?” said Celtavian his voice showing no hint of fear. “We approach and reveal ourselves” said the twins with wide eyes, “Let us hope that she does not seek to do us harm. We have never met a ghost.” The blue-eyed wizard nodded, “I shall follow a short distance behind. I see no other dangers or hidden magic. Still…be wary.” “We always are” said the twins. They said a short prayer to Eilistraee, then walked forward hands upraised and palms out taking up the ‘The Moon Mother’s Song’ with voices as soft and sweet as songbirds. Celtavian walked a few feet behind them methodically studying the ghostly elven woman. She turned, her ethereal green eyes upon them filled with misty tears falling in a continuous stream, each teardrop a ghostly wisp disappearing after falling from her cheeks. The anguish upon her face was as telling as a smile and pained the tender hearts of the drow women. “Who sings with me…drow I see…but what drow know the songs of the [i]Tel-quessir[/i]” she asked in a soft and wary tone. “Drow who serve the Dark Maiden know the songs of the [i]Tel-quessir[/i]” said the twins. “We sing such songs often” said Phallon. “Strange…have the drow conquered the [i]Tel-quessir[/i] and stolen our songs?” “Nay…they have not…” said the twins. They moved to within a longsword’s length of the ghostly elven woman. “Then why are there drow singing [i]Tel-quessir[/i] songs while walking in Myth Drannor…has our city fallen?” “Yea…Myth Drannor has fallen…it is no more save in sorrowful memory and the songs of bards” said Phallon. “A pity…I wondered why no one had come to help me…I’ve waited for so long…I cannot even remember how long...how long has it been since the city fell?” asked the ghostly elven woman. “It has been over 600 years since the fall of Myth Drannor” said the twins. She sighed sadly, “…and yet the orc remains keeping me from my child…600 years…” she stared off contemplating the revelation, “One endless day of misery it seems to me.” “This orc you speak of…Is that what saddens you so?” She looked again at the twins, “yes…’the orc’ is the harbinger of my sorrow…the orc bars the way to my child…he is in that room…the room beyond the hole…my child and this orc” she pointed a ghostly finger at the blackened hole on the second story, “There he stands vigilant watch over my sweet Arrian, my dear sweet child. He tells me that I shall never see Arrian again. The foul thing…how can it be allowed to keep me from my child?” She let out a sorrowful wail, “GIVE ME MY CHILD.” An evil voice growled from beyond the blackened hole in simple common, “NO CHILD ELF WHORE.” “That is ‘the orc’” she said eyes falling to the ground, “he torments me. I want only to see my child laid to rest, yet ‘the orc’ will not let me have him.” The twins eyes narrowed as they gazed at the blackened hole, “We will help you lay your child to rest…fear not, the Power of Eilistraee will prevail.” “You will help me? Drow will help a sun elf? How strange” her ghostly green eyes flickered with hope. “Some dark elves are not drow” said the twins, “And we would help a sister elf be she sun or moon or wood…for love of our kin.” “It is said that long ago drow were once [i]Tel-quessir[/i]…now I know it to be true…I am the Lady Melithra Ventiyar of House Ventiyar. It is a pleasure to meet my dark elven kin.” “We are…” said the twins. “…Phallon…” said Phallon. “…and Thourne…” said Thourne. “…Spidermoon” the twins finished the sentence, “By the sword of the Dark Maiden we swear we shall rescue your child and help lay him to rest.” The elven lady’s eyes glanced back to Celtavian, “And you sir? What of you? You look like a moon elf, yet you seem not so elven to me. Will you help as well?” “I am half-sun elf” the blue-eyed mage said “… My name is Celtavian Magerius, son of Natherian Magerius, the Magesword of Evermeet and I would be remiss in my duties were I not to aid my father’s people…Of course I will help.” “The Magerius family is well-known amongst the elves of Myth Drannor. It is an honor to meet the son of the Magesword.” Melithra bowed. “It is an honor to meet you as well Lady Melithra of House Ventiyar.” Celtavian bowed in return. “Come Melithra. We must speak with our friends. You must tell us of this orc. We wish to know what we fight.” “I will tell you all I know of that foul thing…though it might be better if I show you” said Melithra, “then you will know my sorrow true.” “Show us? Can ghosts still enter the reverie?” said the twins curiously. “Yes…I can show you, though it will not be in a manner typical of elven reverie. I no longer rest as I did when I lived. Let us go.” Thourne and Melithra were joined, souls intertwined, consciousnesses merged, memories shared, no longer could either determine which memories were their own and which were the others. They were one sharing the lives of two. And swift and swirling came the maelstrom of memories to their unified spirits and minds. Melithra’s first dancing lesson…upon the fresh green grass of Moondancers Glen within the Cormanthor where Thourne’s mother taught her and Phallon the first steps of the ‘The Sword Dance’. Thourne’s first silver dress...made by Thentia Lavelliar, one of the finest seamstresses in Myth Drannor, radiant pink and red, constructed of the finest silk fringed with roses along the sleeves and neck. Thusly, the two elven women bared themselves, living from moment to moment the others life. Darkness did not enter their youthful memories until the coming of the Fall of Myth Drannor. Of that dark time, Melithra had only sad memories and Thourne had none at all having not yet been born. [/QUOTE]
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