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Xath's Journal (A Kingdom of Ashes) - Updated 10/6/04
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<blockquote data-quote="Xath" data-source="post: 1792625" data-attributes="member: 17040"><p><strong>Introduction</strong></p><p></p><p><em>Every day is a story. I’ve believed that since the day I was born, and I’ll believe it ‘till the day I die. Stories are meant to be recorded, and whether that be through word of mouth or paper doesn’t really matter. As long as the stories are told. As long as people remember. This is my story.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>My story began 45 years ago last Tuesday in the northern regions of Sylvannus. Clan Thunderheart had a stronghold near the Wall, which, in the event of a breech, was one of the first lines of defense against the Bluestar. But no one really thought of such things then. The Bluestar was kept safely behind the wall; Quarion’s Watch saw to that. So the tunnels of the stronghold expanded until it was more of an under-city than a keep. Ores were found, and the people were prosperous. The tunnels got deeper and deeper, and crept closer and closer to the wall. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>When I was approaching 5 years old, the attack came. Legions of the Bluestar swarmed through the lower tunnels, slaughtering all in their path. Many of those killed rose again, joining the masses of the Bluestar’s forces. Several thousand of us were herded into the great hall. The massive stone doors were sealed. And then the world caught flame. My mother pulled a small blue bottle out of her skirts and made me drink it. She then held me close…This is one of the few memories I have of my mother…</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Regardless, the city fell to the legion of the Bluestar, and by some miracle or force of fate, I managed to be one of the few survivors. The details aren’t important. Story or no story, everyone is entitled to their private memories; I’ve believed that since the day I was born, and I’ll believe it ‘till the day I die. Moving right along…</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>There were too many orphans to send of to other Thunderheart clans, so many were sent to Sylvannus proper: a city made up mostly of High Alder, with a few humans and middies for a mix. I was one such orphan. I was assigned to one Naryan Sharpwind. He had two children, Nimisha and Nikhil, but had lost his wife several years before. He had served on the Watch, and now coordinated trades along the Sylvannus Wharf. A nice enough man, but we were never particularly close. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Once I was older, Nimisha and Nikhil began to take more interest in me. We became as siblings, even calling each other such when Naryan wasn’t around. He still subscribed heavily to the ideals of High Alder shame and would have tolerated no such nonsense from us had he heard about it. Nimisha taught me the use and practice of the sword and the bow, but those were not what really held my interest. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The house was full of music. Naryan’s wife had been a musician, and the house had every type of instrument I could imagine, and even some I couldn’t. I learned to play them all, at least, I like to think I did. The only two areas I really excelled in were stringed instruments, especially the harp, and the voice. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>There were other dwarven orphans in the area, but we were never really close. Most of them were older, and were more set in their dwarven ways, but I didn’t remember enough to be that stodgy. They tried to teach me. Even the elves tried to teach me how to be a dwarf. Fat lot of good that did them. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>At the age of 44, they finally considered me to be grown. I capped out at 3’10” and was nearly as wide. I re-invented my scabbard so that my longsword wouldn’t drag across the ground when I walked, and wore my bow horizontally across my back for the same reason. Having failed to teach me dwarven ways themselves, the elves thought it would be best if I spent some time with my own people. Maybe then I would be alright.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>So Naryan arranged, through his connections, for me to work as a generic lackey in the Stronghold of Clan Thunderheart in Thanesport. I was not particularly ecstatic about the arrangement, but I had to start somewhere if I was going to fulfill my ultimate goal: to regain the halls of my forefathers and defeat the Bluestar once and for all. A modest goal for a modest person, if I may say so myself. And…it couldn’t kill me to learn more about my heritage. This trip to Thanesport would have to be good for something…</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Xath, post: 1792625, member: 17040"] [b]Introduction[/b] [I]Every day is a story. I’ve believed that since the day I was born, and I’ll believe it ‘till the day I die. Stories are meant to be recorded, and whether that be through word of mouth or paper doesn’t really matter. As long as the stories are told. As long as people remember. This is my story. My story began 45 years ago last Tuesday in the northern regions of Sylvannus. Clan Thunderheart had a stronghold near the Wall, which, in the event of a breech, was one of the first lines of defense against the Bluestar. But no one really thought of such things then. The Bluestar was kept safely behind the wall; Quarion’s Watch saw to that. So the tunnels of the stronghold expanded until it was more of an under-city than a keep. Ores were found, and the people were prosperous. The tunnels got deeper and deeper, and crept closer and closer to the wall. When I was approaching 5 years old, the attack came. Legions of the Bluestar swarmed through the lower tunnels, slaughtering all in their path. Many of those killed rose again, joining the masses of the Bluestar’s forces. Several thousand of us were herded into the great hall. The massive stone doors were sealed. And then the world caught flame. My mother pulled a small blue bottle out of her skirts and made me drink it. She then held me close…This is one of the few memories I have of my mother… Regardless, the city fell to the legion of the Bluestar, and by some miracle or force of fate, I managed to be one of the few survivors. The details aren’t important. Story or no story, everyone is entitled to their private memories; I’ve believed that since the day I was born, and I’ll believe it ‘till the day I die. Moving right along… There were too many orphans to send of to other Thunderheart clans, so many were sent to Sylvannus proper: a city made up mostly of High Alder, with a few humans and middies for a mix. I was one such orphan. I was assigned to one Naryan Sharpwind. He had two children, Nimisha and Nikhil, but had lost his wife several years before. He had served on the Watch, and now coordinated trades along the Sylvannus Wharf. A nice enough man, but we were never particularly close. Once I was older, Nimisha and Nikhil began to take more interest in me. We became as siblings, even calling each other such when Naryan wasn’t around. He still subscribed heavily to the ideals of High Alder shame and would have tolerated no such nonsense from us had he heard about it. Nimisha taught me the use and practice of the sword and the bow, but those were not what really held my interest. The house was full of music. Naryan’s wife had been a musician, and the house had every type of instrument I could imagine, and even some I couldn’t. I learned to play them all, at least, I like to think I did. The only two areas I really excelled in were stringed instruments, especially the harp, and the voice. There were other dwarven orphans in the area, but we were never really close. Most of them were older, and were more set in their dwarven ways, but I didn’t remember enough to be that stodgy. They tried to teach me. Even the elves tried to teach me how to be a dwarf. Fat lot of good that did them. At the age of 44, they finally considered me to be grown. I capped out at 3’10” and was nearly as wide. I re-invented my scabbard so that my longsword wouldn’t drag across the ground when I walked, and wore my bow horizontally across my back for the same reason. Having failed to teach me dwarven ways themselves, the elves thought it would be best if I spent some time with my own people. Maybe then I would be alright. So Naryan arranged, through his connections, for me to work as a generic lackey in the Stronghold of Clan Thunderheart in Thanesport. I was not particularly ecstatic about the arrangement, but I had to start somewhere if I was going to fulfill my ultimate goal: to regain the halls of my forefathers and defeat the Bluestar once and for all. A modest goal for a modest person, if I may say so myself. And…it couldn’t kill me to learn more about my heritage. This trip to Thanesport would have to be good for something…[/I] [/QUOTE]
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