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Journal of the Souls of Legend (completed)
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<blockquote data-quote="Nthal" data-source="post: 7838899" data-attributes="member: 6971069"><p style="text-align: center"><strong>Fifteen Birds… 10/24/2019</strong></p> <p style="text-align: center"></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>Families can create such strong bonds, that their impression can be felt just by watching them interact. The subtle motions, touches, smiles, phrases all are the mark of kinship.</em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em></em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>So, watching the elves, you realize they are all kin to each other, that they all recognize one another as family. One bound together through not decades, but centuries.</em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em> </em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>It’s so strong, that makes us without families that ache with a longing unmatched by our own loneliness. And more than just a tad envious.</em></p> <p style="text-align: center"></p><p>“I am Alanathia Goldenmoor,” the elven woman introduced herself. She was short for an elf, perhaps shorter than I by half a head. Her hair were braided cornrows of copper, and her eyes a brilliant blue. She was dressed in a finely crafted leather tunic, stained maroon with leaf patterns through out. A long sword was at her hip, and her legs were bare until they reached soft boots rising to mid-calf. She was striking, and I was certain that Iesa would make a move to try to know her more, later this evening if he could help it.</p><p></p><p>“This is my kin, Galenas,” and she nodded her head to a male elf, who in many ways was a mirror image of herself. The same style of hair, the same eyes. Even the tunic, the lack of leggings and tall soft boots. But where she was lithe and almost delicate, he had the lean hard muscles of a skirmisher; someone who would hit fast and hard.</p><p></p><p>She walked forward and looked at each of our band, one by one. “You are the brothers, Iesa and Daneath, the gnome Beepu, son of beloved Pachook, and the <em>ha-celas</em> Myrai.”</p><p></p><p>The last part caught my ear. It was a phrase I had heard from some half-elves in Sigil. The word was elven and meant roughly ‘kin of angels,’ the elven word for Aasimar. I had been here for now sixty days, and it was the first time that I could remember being recognized for what I am, and not a strange looking human. She then continued, interrupting my thoughts.</p><p></p><p>“You seem to be severely wounded; do you require aid…Myrai?”</p><p></p><p>I stumbled a bit in my reply, “I will be able to manage for now…but I could use some help later this evening.”</p><p>Alanathia nodded, and then sat down on open lounge while Galenas stood by the door and continued. </p><p></p><p>“Ravalan has told us what had happened, and your timely aid. We are grateful for what you have done for our friend. He has also told us that you seek to speak to Melandrach himself—"</p><p></p><p>“Yes! Yes!” Beepu interrupted. “My father was a friend of Melandrach, and we would simply—”</p><p></p><p>Alanathia raise her hand and looked at Beepu and he fell silent. “We understand who you <em>claim</em> to be. And so, we recognize your claim while we inquire on its truth. But to see our liege will take more; being a son of a friend is not enough.”</p><p></p><p>“What? You don’t believe us?” Iesa said angrily.</p><p></p><p>“Many humans have lied before, as they took things that did not belong to them from this forest,” Galenas intoned. “It is because you aided Ravalan, that you are here. But that does not alone prove the worthiness of the son, compared to the father.”</p><p></p><p>“So, we should be thanking you…for our lives then,” Daneath spoke flintily, his eyes narrowed.</p><p>Alanathia smiled, “No. You had not despoiled the forest; you would have been given thanks for killing the goblins and sent on your way. We do not cull life without need. But to have the honor to talk to our liege, you must demonstrate your quality.”</p><p></p><p>“And you have something specific in mind,” I said from my lounge, listening to the dance of words. It was clear they saw something in us; opportunity perhaps. But it was more than that. The way their gazes watched each of us; measuring our reactions and listening with great care. It was a test of sorts.</p><p></p><p>“Perceptive. The goblins you have encountered are a recent incursion. They are led by a hobgoblin warlord who’s title we have heard only in whispers. What concerns us is that they are searching for old ruins harking back to ancient Ilefarn.”</p><p></p><p>“What are they looking for?” Daneath asked.</p><p></p><p>“It is not clear. The one scout we questioned said that this self-titled ‘Prophesized One’ is looking for a holy site. They have taken control of several locations on the forest edge. But most concerning to us, is that an ancient temple ruin has been seized by them. We had long ago ceded care of this ruin to the Highborn. But the Highborn have all but disappeared.”</p><p></p><p>“What’s a ‘Highborn’? Is that a…group of elves?” Iesa asked.</p><p></p><p>“No; the Highborn, like the elves, came from the Feywild long ago. To most, they look like stags with an elven torso, their heads crested with horns.” They are friends to us, but they prefer the deep wilds, and even the trappings of elven towns they find discomforting.”</p><p></p><p>“So, what do you want us to do about these hobgoblins?” I asked. </p><p></p><p>“We do not know what the danger they represent is. We want you to find out and address if possible and inform if not.” the elf replied.</p><p></p><p>“More delays! How are we going to catch up to my father with delays such as this!”</p><p></p><p>“Easy Beepu—” Daneath started.</p><p></p><p>“Do not ‘Easy Beepu’ me Daneath. I did not just get chewed up by worgs, just to go goblin hunting!” Beepu spat.</p><p></p><p>“Beepu really you—” Iesa started.</p><p></p><p>“Do not start on this as well! You alone cost us time with that Roggins character!”</p><p></p><p>“Somehow, I bet your father aided these elves before, “ I remarked quietly, as I looked at Beepu with an open expression.</p><p></p><p>He met my eyes with a dark gaze, and then after a moment it softened. “No. You are right. My father would have helped without arguing as much. Forgive me for my outburst.”</p><p></p><p>“I am certain that your…exhaustion from your efforts this evening is the cause. Perhaps some rest is in order. We can discuss the details at first light,” Alanathia commented with a small smile. “Places for you to rest have been prepared.” She then clapped her hands once, and Galenas motioned us outside. Along the walkway strung above the forest floor, several elves had gathered. A male elf motioned to the brothers and guided them towards larger group of structures to what I thought was the eastern side of the outpost. A slightly younger one with smiles, took Beepu to a smaller cluster to the west. Finally, a young female elf motioned me to follow her northwards.</p><p></p><p>She led me along the walkways, and I noticed that the farther we travelled that the higher the elevation rose. Eventually, we came to a smaller hut like structure, that was nestled at the top of a large oak. Unlike the others lower down, the walkway around this one was open to the sky; and the moon and stars above were visible. </p><p></p><p>The elf stood at the side of the structure, and her left hand motioned me to enter. Inside, the room was already lit with candles and the scent of spice was in the air; mints, pine and clove I could quickly pick out. Gossamer, who had been silently lurking behind, ran forward, and then flitted to and landed on a shelf within and watched us lazily.</p><p></p><p>“Alanthia has instructed us, to be of assistance if you require anything.”</p><p></p><p>“Thank you, and I do need some help. But what is your name?”</p><p></p><p>The elf blinked in surprise, “I…you may address me as Morlea. What did you require?”</p><p></p><p>“I need some help removing my armor. I don’t want to reinjure myself in the process.”</p><p></p><p>“You…you are injured? I should fetch the healer—” and she started to leave.</p><p></p><p>“No please,” and I gently grasped her hand. “I can…heal myself. But I need to see how badly I am hurt first.”</p><p>She looked at me uncertainly, and then she relaxed and looked me over nervously. “How did you…”</p><p>I smiled as I unbuckled my rapier belt and hung it on a chair back that sat next to a table. “There are three buckles underneath the right arm that holds the chain shirt to me. Once undone, you can help me lift the shirt over my head.”</p><p></p><p>She nodded, and I raised my right arm upwards, as I held my left arm close to the wound on my torso and I felt her hands work the buckles deftly. After releasing them, I bend forward, and she helped peel off the chain shirt, which we laid on the nearby table.</p><p></p><p>As she did, I watched her trace the rent in the shirt where the chain links had been split apart by the sword thrust, and I watched her turn to look at my thin padded gambeson underneath. It was only now that she could see how much blood had been spilled. The gambeson was once, a dark blue color. Now the blood soaked into the cloth, darkened it to nearly black in a wide swath around the rips in the quilting.</p><p></p><p>She moved forward and undid the front lacings of the gambeson, and she gently held it as I peeled the cloth away from my skin. The blood had mostly dried, and but it had bonded my skin and cloth together and I grimaced as it peeled away, leaving only my muslin halter covering me. I held the wound on my left side and turned my back to Gossamer.</p><p></p><p>I closed my eyes and pulled on a single strand that connected me to Gossamer, and in a moment, I was looking from Gossamer’s eyes at the injury from his perch on the shelf.</p><p>From that view, it appeared that I was very fortunate. A bit closer to the spine, and I knew that there would be some major vitals that could have been struck. But it still looked terrible based on the amount of blood that stained my skin below my halter, and probably soaked my leathers and small clothes.</p><p></p><p>I switched my senses back, and was looking at the elven woman, who was looking me over with concern. I could tell that her lack of recoil from the blood, that violence wasn’t a stranger here. But I did notice her hands were shivering a bit and her breathing was a bit quicker. Her eyes looked me over uncertainly, as I stood there in my leather breeches, and the thin muslin top, both covered in dried blood.</p><p></p><p>“Is something the matter, Morlea?”</p><p></p><p>“I…I am sorry. But I have never seen a <em>ha-celas. </em>I did…I did not know what to expect,”</p><p></p><p>“Beyond the hair and eyes?”</p><p></p><p>“<em>Ha-celas</em> are said to be each unique. Some are said to have…”</p><p></p><p>“Feathers,” I chuckled, “Some have been known to have them. Usually on the forearm, or on the shoulder blades. Sorry, I don’t have any. Well not real ones.”</p><p></p><p>“Real ones?”</p><p></p><p>“Well, now that I have seen how bad the goblin stuck me and I have had enough rest…” and I grasped my medallion with my right hand and reached within for a bright strand of light. Pulling on it and pulling warmth from it as I touched my abdomen with my left, I pushed the warmth into myself. I could feel the energy spread through me, and I felt the layers of tissue mend, and then finally the wound close. All the while I could feel some of the light and warmth spread along my spine.</p><p></p><p>Morlea eyes were like saucers as she watched the display. I stretched my arms upwards and twisted at the waist. The pain had receded, and the stiffness was now temporary.</p><p></p><p>“Thank you for your help again; I didn’t want to tear it open before I looked at it and closed the wound.”</p><p></p><p>“Of…of course. Is there anything else you require?”</p><p></p><p>“Some brandy would be nice, as I have a lot to clean up before I retire.”</p><p></p><p>“Certainly; you should find a robe in the chest there,” and she left, closing the light wooden door behind her.</p><p>By the time she returned with a decanter, I had removed my other weapons, armor and small clothes and laid them on the table. I sat in the chair, wrapped in the fine silken robe and was busy alternating between cleaning the stains of dirt, blood and grim from my things, and the slower work of mending. The gambeson was quick to fix and clean, as was the leather. But the chain rings in my armor took more time.</p><p></p><p>The chain shirt had a simple pattern to it, but I had to place each link in place by hand as I mended it with some light and dark strands to rebind the metal. Otherwise I risked fixing the rings but leaving gaps behind. I was focused on the work, when Morlea returned with the brandy. She entered and placed the tray onto a smaller table near the lounge. She then turned to look at the results of my cleaning and repair efforts.</p><p></p><p>“You have some skill with the Weave. The blood and damage are nearly gone.”</p><p></p><p>“Some. Enough to almost ignore what a bath feels like.” And I turned and with a quick motion, pulled the strand into reality in the shape of a feminine ghostly hand. It pulled the glass stopper and seeing the multiple glasses, poured some of the liquor into a pair. I then picked up the pair and offered her one of them, again, surprising her.</p><p></p><p>“Please, a small drink with me under the stars. It’s a poor thank you for the bloody mess I asked you to help me with.” Morlea took the glass, and I stepped outside into the cool breeze. </p><p></p><p>The moon Selune was overhead almost full, and stars twinkled in the clear sky above. Morlea followed and we both took sips of the strong drink. Here the wind moved through the branches and leaves in the tree, bringing fresh smells of wood and greenery, while the taste of tannin, vanilla and cherries danced on my tongue as I swallowed the brandy from my glass.</p><p></p><p>Morlea sipped and looked at me indecisively; on the cusp of a statement or question. Finally, after taking some more liquid courage she finally asked her question.</p><p></p><p>“I am sorry to be so brazen…but what makes <em>ha-celas</em> different?”</p><p></p><p>“Different? From…what? Humans?”</p><p></p><p>She nodded and looked at me, into my eyes. Or perhaps at herself in my eyes. I thought a moment.</p><p>“We are far from common, so no two of us are alike. We…supposedly live longer. We can see in the dark like elves. We can manifest some sorts of magic involving light and other things. And most…pay attention to what we say and do. And…many have a connection to…the one that started their line.” And I took a sip from my glass.</p><p></p><p>“But, the…<em>celas</em>…the angels are creatures of belief; they are a part of the ordering of the multiverse. But we…we have free will. We can choose our actions and our destiny. To do good or ill, to do great things or terrible. In that way we are just like humans. But everyone notices when we do something or even just say something. We attract all sorts of attention, wanted or not.</p><p></p><p>“So, let me ask you…what makes elves different from half-elves?” and I watched as Morlea looked at me quizzically. “Where I come from, half-elves are very common but true elves are rare.”</p><p></p><p>Morlea considered for a moment, “It is interesting to think of it that way. That if half-elves are what you know, then elves are the ones that are different. There are few half-elves in this forest as contact between human and elf is normally…discouraged. But I would say that we are more patient. Less concerned about the flow of time passing us by. We prefer a lifelong friend, compared to twelve human lifetimes worth of friends in a row. And we trance, as half-elves still sleep and visit the realms of dreams.”</p><p></p><p>I smile wistfully at that, “Well I admit that I would give a lot never to sleep again…or at least dream.”</p><p></p><p>Morlea looked at me perplexed, “You do not wish to dream?”</p><p></p><p>I stared into my glass a moment before replying, “I don’t remember most of my dreams. I only remember the nightmares. And I have far too many of them.”</p><p></p><p>It was quiet for a several moments as we sipped our drinks; feeling the wind and the soft sounds of the forest. Finally, I had drained the last of my glass, and turned to Morlea.</p><p></p><p>“Thank you again. I unfortunately do need to sleep and rest. Perhaps we can talk again in the morning before my friends and I leave.”</p><p></p><p>Morlea nodded, “May you…rest well this eve. Peace.” And she returned the empty glass to my hand, smiled and turned to walk down the walkway, deeper into Whitepetal.</p><p></p><p>I was intrigued by the elves. Before today, I am not sure I really had more than a handful of words with one before. But the even calm, almost serene nature of Morlea was interesting to me. I knew that she was young, yet she could have easily been a hundred years my senior. I chuckled at the thought of living so long; as a Sensate, could I ever get bored? The time to truly experience everything in depth and not rush to the next thing. I hoped that we would have more time with them after solving the problems that the goblins were causing.</p><p></p><p>I walked back into the hut structure that I was staying and looked around. I realized that the elves had no reason for true beds but must have reclined down on the lounges instead to ‘trance.’ I curled up on one and pulled my cloak over me and waited for the alcohol to wash me away into slumber. Hopefully a slumber without dreams.</p><p></p><p>I didn’t remember any dreams.</p><p></p><p>But instead I woke into a nightmare.</p><p></p><p>I awoke coughing, and my eyes watering. My room was filled with the smell of pitch and smoke, and I could hear screams of fear outside. I rolled off the lounge and onto my knees and crawled to the door where my shield lay, as I fastened my cloak around me.</p><p></p><p><em>Goss! What’s going on.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>--I was about to wake you. The screams started, then the smoke.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>I’m going to leave here, fly up and tell me what you can see.</em></p><p></p><p>Putting my back against the wood, I pulled my rapier belt around me and wrapped it around the robe I was wearing. I pulled my shield onto my arms, and with a quick deep breath, I threw open the door, and stepped outside, feeling ill-dressed for the occasion.</p><p></p><p>The outside was a stark contrast to what I last remembered. Many of the tree tops were aflame, as were the ropes along the walkways. I expected to see panicking elves running around, trying to douse the fires. What I saw instead was worse.</p><p></p><p>Just a stone throw from me I saw a pair of elves with blades drawn and trading blows with large armored humanoids. They swung with precision that only came with practice, as I watched one of them cut down an elf, and his partner smash his shield into a second one. The elf swung his blade, cutting deeply into the side of one, only to be laid low by a sword thrust, by his remaining partner.</p><p></p><p>I pulled at the light strand and threw a bolt of purple energy at the standing one knocking it down, and I ran over to the fallen elves. The first one I reached was beyond any hope of me saving, but the other was still breathing in shallow ragged breaths. I pulled a bit of the strand into him, so he would survive. I then looked at the one I had killed. His features were more bestial, and his body was bigger and stronger than a human. It had the narrow eyes and heavy brow, similar to the goblins we had fought before. I was certain, it was a hobgoblin.</p><p></p><p><em>It’s a hobgoblin attack! Can you see our friends?</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>--No, the smoke is worse up here. I can see more movement in the center of Whitepetal, and more movement beyond to the south, but not particulars.</em></p><p></p><p>I stood and made my way to the center of the outpost, and I saw more fighting. Elves fought against more of the hobgoblins on the bridges and walkways. I could hear the twangs of bows in the distance, and even saw a hobgoblin fall to the earth, tripping over some rope banisters with a lengthy scream.</p><p></p><p>Pulling on the dark strands, I threw dark miasmas around another pair of marauders, but not before they killed the elves they had been facing. Before I could do anything, I saw a bolt of fire streak out from a building, bringing another one down in a pile of screams and flame.</p><p></p><p>Its partner charged towards where the bolt came from, but I threw another purple bolt, striking it in the back as it ran towards the open doorway, where Beepu stood. I moved again towards the fallen elves, only to find that their lives had already left their bodies.</p><p></p><p>In the distance I could heard Daneath’s shouts, and the sound of a shield striking a blow and the scream of a hobgoblin, descending and cutting off into sudden silence. The smoke and haze from the flames made it hard to see where he and others were fighting. I covered my mouth and nose, as tears streamed down from my eyes from the stinging smoke.</p><p></p><p>Beepu circled on his platform and threw more bolts of fire at targets away from him. Daneath was still lost to me in the smoke and haze. Finally, I saw Iesa trading blows with a female hobgoblin with his rapier in one hand, and his dagger in the other. The female had the lithe figure of an elf woman over one shoulder. But this didn’t hinder the hobgoblin in the slightest as I watched the hobgoblin deflected some of Iesa’s strikes and dodged the others barehanded.</p><p></p><p>Then I watched her spin and level a kick to Iesa’s head, almost knocking him over. The female then turned and dove off the ledge into the dark smoke that now covered the forest floor. All still with an unconscious figure draped over her shoulder.</p><p></p><p>I watched Iesa look around himself frantically. Finally, he found a rope that he fastened onto a spar of wood, and he too slid below.</p><p></p><p><em>Goss! Follow Iesa!</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>--Gotcha…he’s the one with little brown—</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>GOSS!</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>--Going!</em></p><p></p><p>I made my way towards Beepu and finally shouted at him, “Did you see any others?”</p><p>The gnome shook his head, “No! Most of the elves are south of here, the few warriors died as the others retreated. However, I have not seen any more hobgoblins around either.”</p><p></p><p>“Iesa just jumped down chasing a hobgoblin,” I said.</p><p></p><p>“What? Alone? The fool will get himself killed,” Beepu said with a look of incredulity.</p><p></p><p>“Over here! Help!” I heard Daneath call out and turning to follow his voice I found him. He was trying to clear a doorway to a central structure in the middle of a trunk of a tree. A makeshift barrier was seemly placed there, to keep the occupants trapped inside, with fire spreading fast. I ran over and concentrated for a moment, imagining a light strand being spread out over the flames.</p><p></p><p>A quick shower of water appeared and extinguished the fires. Daneath then wrested open the door as Beepu moved debris and several elves emerged from the from where they were barricaded into. Each with the harrowed look of escaping a fiery death.</p><p></p><p>As we looked around, the sounds of fighting had died, but not the roaring of flames or screaming. We made our way through the smoke and haze and started to save who we could.</p><p></p><p>It was grisly business. For everyone I could find clinging to life, there were two others who had passed into the fugue. I wandered the night in the trees, putting out large blazes, and saving what fallen I could. Daneath and Beepu did in different ways; from freeing trapped elves, to Beepu using Foggle to reunite families. But I was searching for not just anyone. I was searching for one person.</p><p></p><p>It was late when I finally found Morlea. Most of the fires had been put out, and most of my strength already spent. I found her in a small hut that jutted out from one side of a trunk of a tree. Inside it was full of choking smoke, which was slowly clearing. I breathed a sigh of relief, as she appeared to be curled up unconscious on the floor. But then I saw that her chest lay still, and I reached out with my hand to find the warmth had already left her now cool skin.</p><p></p><p>I sat down on the floor next to her and pulled her lifeless body on my lap and I cradled her in my arms. I looked at her soot stained face and my tears poured from my cheeks, which streaked down her face washing away ash. I stroked her hair and closed her eyes one final time. Her face was at peace, as if dreaming. Dreaming of the next life or what ever lay beyond the fugue for the elven kind. A dream she never would have had before this night.</p><p></p><p>I sobbed there quietly in the darkness. Life could be harsh, and death was a final respite. A relief from the toils of pain and suffering. But for those who died before the fullness of time; by violence or accident we could take solace that they knew peace. We the faithful should help the living carry on and learn from those that passed beyond.</p><p></p><p>Words I believed in. But in this moment the words felt hollow. I had barely known this woman. I shared a moment and a drink with her in peace and friendship. I wanted to learn more from her and share with her things I knew and had learned. But the opportunity was gone, and now she would carry on that peace alone into the fugue.</p><p></p><p>And I would carry her memory of that moment alone.</p><p></p><p>Why?</p><p></p><p>We were only here, because we sought two fathers. Not even my own father, who the multiverse had not so subtly told me to leave well enough alone. And yet, I wondered if this was all for the mazes. It seemed unfair…no <em>wrong</em> that looking for two men should have such a high body count of innocents. It was like the multiverse had a vindictive streak against the four of us.</p><p></p><p>The dead are supposed to teach us about living. What was the lesson here?</p><p></p><p>I had no answers to my questions as I sat there alone on the floor with my grief in the night. All I could do was cry, hoping my tears would wash away the pain. But as I sat there, I slowly felt something else. An ember, now sparking and sputtering to life within me.</p><p></p><p>A flame of hate.</p><p></p><p><strong>Session notes: </strong>I did not like the last encounter. Not because it wasn’t well run, or fun or challenging. But because of the stakes of innocents were added in. It made the game feel bit grittier. But there was an emotional component to it that was unpleasant, because it wasn’t meant to be.</p><p></p><p>So, I admired it. I didn’t like feeling it.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nthal, post: 7838899, member: 6971069"] [CENTER][B]Fifteen Birds… 10/24/2019[/B] [I]Families can create such strong bonds, that their impression can be felt just by watching them interact. The subtle motions, touches, smiles, phrases all are the mark of kinship. So, watching the elves, you realize they are all kin to each other, that they all recognize one another as family. One bound together through not decades, but centuries. It’s so strong, that makes us without families that ache with a longing unmatched by our own loneliness. And more than just a tad envious.[/I] [/CENTER] “I am Alanathia Goldenmoor,” the elven woman introduced herself. She was short for an elf, perhaps shorter than I by half a head. Her hair were braided cornrows of copper, and her eyes a brilliant blue. She was dressed in a finely crafted leather tunic, stained maroon with leaf patterns through out. A long sword was at her hip, and her legs were bare until they reached soft boots rising to mid-calf. She was striking, and I was certain that Iesa would make a move to try to know her more, later this evening if he could help it. “This is my kin, Galenas,” and she nodded her head to a male elf, who in many ways was a mirror image of herself. The same style of hair, the same eyes. Even the tunic, the lack of leggings and tall soft boots. But where she was lithe and almost delicate, he had the lean hard muscles of a skirmisher; someone who would hit fast and hard. She walked forward and looked at each of our band, one by one. “You are the brothers, Iesa and Daneath, the gnome Beepu, son of beloved Pachook, and the [I]ha-celas[/I] Myrai.” The last part caught my ear. It was a phrase I had heard from some half-elves in Sigil. The word was elven and meant roughly ‘kin of angels,’ the elven word for Aasimar. I had been here for now sixty days, and it was the first time that I could remember being recognized for what I am, and not a strange looking human. She then continued, interrupting my thoughts. “You seem to be severely wounded; do you require aid…Myrai?” I stumbled a bit in my reply, “I will be able to manage for now…but I could use some help later this evening.” Alanathia nodded, and then sat down on open lounge while Galenas stood by the door and continued. “Ravalan has told us what had happened, and your timely aid. We are grateful for what you have done for our friend. He has also told us that you seek to speak to Melandrach himself—" “Yes! Yes!” Beepu interrupted. “My father was a friend of Melandrach, and we would simply—” Alanathia raise her hand and looked at Beepu and he fell silent. “We understand who you [I]claim[/I] to be. And so, we recognize your claim while we inquire on its truth. But to see our liege will take more; being a son of a friend is not enough.” “What? You don’t believe us?” Iesa said angrily. “Many humans have lied before, as they took things that did not belong to them from this forest,” Galenas intoned. “It is because you aided Ravalan, that you are here. But that does not alone prove the worthiness of the son, compared to the father.” “So, we should be thanking you…for our lives then,” Daneath spoke flintily, his eyes narrowed. Alanathia smiled, “No. You had not despoiled the forest; you would have been given thanks for killing the goblins and sent on your way. We do not cull life without need. But to have the honor to talk to our liege, you must demonstrate your quality.” “And you have something specific in mind,” I said from my lounge, listening to the dance of words. It was clear they saw something in us; opportunity perhaps. But it was more than that. The way their gazes watched each of us; measuring our reactions and listening with great care. It was a test of sorts. “Perceptive. The goblins you have encountered are a recent incursion. They are led by a hobgoblin warlord who’s title we have heard only in whispers. What concerns us is that they are searching for old ruins harking back to ancient Ilefarn.” “What are they looking for?” Daneath asked. “It is not clear. The one scout we questioned said that this self-titled ‘Prophesized One’ is looking for a holy site. They have taken control of several locations on the forest edge. But most concerning to us, is that an ancient temple ruin has been seized by them. We had long ago ceded care of this ruin to the Highborn. But the Highborn have all but disappeared.” “What’s a ‘Highborn’? Is that a…group of elves?” Iesa asked. “No; the Highborn, like the elves, came from the Feywild long ago. To most, they look like stags with an elven torso, their heads crested with horns.” They are friends to us, but they prefer the deep wilds, and even the trappings of elven towns they find discomforting.” “So, what do you want us to do about these hobgoblins?” I asked. “We do not know what the danger they represent is. We want you to find out and address if possible and inform if not.” the elf replied. “More delays! How are we going to catch up to my father with delays such as this!” “Easy Beepu—” Daneath started. “Do not ‘Easy Beepu’ me Daneath. I did not just get chewed up by worgs, just to go goblin hunting!” Beepu spat. “Beepu really you—” Iesa started. “Do not start on this as well! You alone cost us time with that Roggins character!” “Somehow, I bet your father aided these elves before, “ I remarked quietly, as I looked at Beepu with an open expression. He met my eyes with a dark gaze, and then after a moment it softened. “No. You are right. My father would have helped without arguing as much. Forgive me for my outburst.” “I am certain that your…exhaustion from your efforts this evening is the cause. Perhaps some rest is in order. We can discuss the details at first light,” Alanathia commented with a small smile. “Places for you to rest have been prepared.” She then clapped her hands once, and Galenas motioned us outside. Along the walkway strung above the forest floor, several elves had gathered. A male elf motioned to the brothers and guided them towards larger group of structures to what I thought was the eastern side of the outpost. A slightly younger one with smiles, took Beepu to a smaller cluster to the west. Finally, a young female elf motioned me to follow her northwards. She led me along the walkways, and I noticed that the farther we travelled that the higher the elevation rose. Eventually, we came to a smaller hut like structure, that was nestled at the top of a large oak. Unlike the others lower down, the walkway around this one was open to the sky; and the moon and stars above were visible. The elf stood at the side of the structure, and her left hand motioned me to enter. Inside, the room was already lit with candles and the scent of spice was in the air; mints, pine and clove I could quickly pick out. Gossamer, who had been silently lurking behind, ran forward, and then flitted to and landed on a shelf within and watched us lazily. “Alanthia has instructed us, to be of assistance if you require anything.” “Thank you, and I do need some help. But what is your name?” The elf blinked in surprise, “I…you may address me as Morlea. What did you require?” “I need some help removing my armor. I don’t want to reinjure myself in the process.” “You…you are injured? I should fetch the healer—” and she started to leave. “No please,” and I gently grasped her hand. “I can…heal myself. But I need to see how badly I am hurt first.” She looked at me uncertainly, and then she relaxed and looked me over nervously. “How did you…” I smiled as I unbuckled my rapier belt and hung it on a chair back that sat next to a table. “There are three buckles underneath the right arm that holds the chain shirt to me. Once undone, you can help me lift the shirt over my head.” She nodded, and I raised my right arm upwards, as I held my left arm close to the wound on my torso and I felt her hands work the buckles deftly. After releasing them, I bend forward, and she helped peel off the chain shirt, which we laid on the nearby table. As she did, I watched her trace the rent in the shirt where the chain links had been split apart by the sword thrust, and I watched her turn to look at my thin padded gambeson underneath. It was only now that she could see how much blood had been spilled. The gambeson was once, a dark blue color. Now the blood soaked into the cloth, darkened it to nearly black in a wide swath around the rips in the quilting. She moved forward and undid the front lacings of the gambeson, and she gently held it as I peeled the cloth away from my skin. The blood had mostly dried, and but it had bonded my skin and cloth together and I grimaced as it peeled away, leaving only my muslin halter covering me. I held the wound on my left side and turned my back to Gossamer. I closed my eyes and pulled on a single strand that connected me to Gossamer, and in a moment, I was looking from Gossamer’s eyes at the injury from his perch on the shelf. From that view, it appeared that I was very fortunate. A bit closer to the spine, and I knew that there would be some major vitals that could have been struck. But it still looked terrible based on the amount of blood that stained my skin below my halter, and probably soaked my leathers and small clothes. I switched my senses back, and was looking at the elven woman, who was looking me over with concern. I could tell that her lack of recoil from the blood, that violence wasn’t a stranger here. But I did notice her hands were shivering a bit and her breathing was a bit quicker. Her eyes looked me over uncertainly, as I stood there in my leather breeches, and the thin muslin top, both covered in dried blood. “Is something the matter, Morlea?” “I…I am sorry. But I have never seen a [I]ha-celas. [/I]I did…I did not know what to expect,” “Beyond the hair and eyes?” “[I]Ha-celas[/I] are said to be each unique. Some are said to have…” “Feathers,” I chuckled, “Some have been known to have them. Usually on the forearm, or on the shoulder blades. Sorry, I don’t have any. Well not real ones.” “Real ones?” “Well, now that I have seen how bad the goblin stuck me and I have had enough rest…” and I grasped my medallion with my right hand and reached within for a bright strand of light. Pulling on it and pulling warmth from it as I touched my abdomen with my left, I pushed the warmth into myself. I could feel the energy spread through me, and I felt the layers of tissue mend, and then finally the wound close. All the while I could feel some of the light and warmth spread along my spine. Morlea eyes were like saucers as she watched the display. I stretched my arms upwards and twisted at the waist. The pain had receded, and the stiffness was now temporary. “Thank you for your help again; I didn’t want to tear it open before I looked at it and closed the wound.” “Of…of course. Is there anything else you require?” “Some brandy would be nice, as I have a lot to clean up before I retire.” “Certainly; you should find a robe in the chest there,” and she left, closing the light wooden door behind her. By the time she returned with a decanter, I had removed my other weapons, armor and small clothes and laid them on the table. I sat in the chair, wrapped in the fine silken robe and was busy alternating between cleaning the stains of dirt, blood and grim from my things, and the slower work of mending. The gambeson was quick to fix and clean, as was the leather. But the chain rings in my armor took more time. The chain shirt had a simple pattern to it, but I had to place each link in place by hand as I mended it with some light and dark strands to rebind the metal. Otherwise I risked fixing the rings but leaving gaps behind. I was focused on the work, when Morlea returned with the brandy. She entered and placed the tray onto a smaller table near the lounge. She then turned to look at the results of my cleaning and repair efforts. “You have some skill with the Weave. The blood and damage are nearly gone.” “Some. Enough to almost ignore what a bath feels like.” And I turned and with a quick motion, pulled the strand into reality in the shape of a feminine ghostly hand. It pulled the glass stopper and seeing the multiple glasses, poured some of the liquor into a pair. I then picked up the pair and offered her one of them, again, surprising her. “Please, a small drink with me under the stars. It’s a poor thank you for the bloody mess I asked you to help me with.” Morlea took the glass, and I stepped outside into the cool breeze. The moon Selune was overhead almost full, and stars twinkled in the clear sky above. Morlea followed and we both took sips of the strong drink. Here the wind moved through the branches and leaves in the tree, bringing fresh smells of wood and greenery, while the taste of tannin, vanilla and cherries danced on my tongue as I swallowed the brandy from my glass. Morlea sipped and looked at me indecisively; on the cusp of a statement or question. Finally, after taking some more liquid courage she finally asked her question. “I am sorry to be so brazen…but what makes [I]ha-celas[/I] different?” “Different? From…what? Humans?” She nodded and looked at me, into my eyes. Or perhaps at herself in my eyes. I thought a moment. “We are far from common, so no two of us are alike. We…supposedly live longer. We can see in the dark like elves. We can manifest some sorts of magic involving light and other things. And most…pay attention to what we say and do. And…many have a connection to…the one that started their line.” And I took a sip from my glass. “But, the…[I]celas[/I]…the angels are creatures of belief; they are a part of the ordering of the multiverse. But we…we have free will. We can choose our actions and our destiny. To do good or ill, to do great things or terrible. In that way we are just like humans. But everyone notices when we do something or even just say something. We attract all sorts of attention, wanted or not. “So, let me ask you…what makes elves different from half-elves?” and I watched as Morlea looked at me quizzically. “Where I come from, half-elves are very common but true elves are rare.” Morlea considered for a moment, “It is interesting to think of it that way. That if half-elves are what you know, then elves are the ones that are different. There are few half-elves in this forest as contact between human and elf is normally…discouraged. But I would say that we are more patient. Less concerned about the flow of time passing us by. We prefer a lifelong friend, compared to twelve human lifetimes worth of friends in a row. And we trance, as half-elves still sleep and visit the realms of dreams.” I smile wistfully at that, “Well I admit that I would give a lot never to sleep again…or at least dream.” Morlea looked at me perplexed, “You do not wish to dream?” I stared into my glass a moment before replying, “I don’t remember most of my dreams. I only remember the nightmares. And I have far too many of them.” It was quiet for a several moments as we sipped our drinks; feeling the wind and the soft sounds of the forest. Finally, I had drained the last of my glass, and turned to Morlea. “Thank you again. I unfortunately do need to sleep and rest. Perhaps we can talk again in the morning before my friends and I leave.” Morlea nodded, “May you…rest well this eve. Peace.” And she returned the empty glass to my hand, smiled and turned to walk down the walkway, deeper into Whitepetal. I was intrigued by the elves. Before today, I am not sure I really had more than a handful of words with one before. But the even calm, almost serene nature of Morlea was interesting to me. I knew that she was young, yet she could have easily been a hundred years my senior. I chuckled at the thought of living so long; as a Sensate, could I ever get bored? The time to truly experience everything in depth and not rush to the next thing. I hoped that we would have more time with them after solving the problems that the goblins were causing. I walked back into the hut structure that I was staying and looked around. I realized that the elves had no reason for true beds but must have reclined down on the lounges instead to ‘trance.’ I curled up on one and pulled my cloak over me and waited for the alcohol to wash me away into slumber. Hopefully a slumber without dreams. I didn’t remember any dreams. But instead I woke into a nightmare. I awoke coughing, and my eyes watering. My room was filled with the smell of pitch and smoke, and I could hear screams of fear outside. I rolled off the lounge and onto my knees and crawled to the door where my shield lay, as I fastened my cloak around me. [I]Goss! What’s going on. --I was about to wake you. The screams started, then the smoke. I’m going to leave here, fly up and tell me what you can see.[/I] Putting my back against the wood, I pulled my rapier belt around me and wrapped it around the robe I was wearing. I pulled my shield onto my arms, and with a quick deep breath, I threw open the door, and stepped outside, feeling ill-dressed for the occasion. The outside was a stark contrast to what I last remembered. Many of the tree tops were aflame, as were the ropes along the walkways. I expected to see panicking elves running around, trying to douse the fires. What I saw instead was worse. Just a stone throw from me I saw a pair of elves with blades drawn and trading blows with large armored humanoids. They swung with precision that only came with practice, as I watched one of them cut down an elf, and his partner smash his shield into a second one. The elf swung his blade, cutting deeply into the side of one, only to be laid low by a sword thrust, by his remaining partner. I pulled at the light strand and threw a bolt of purple energy at the standing one knocking it down, and I ran over to the fallen elves. The first one I reached was beyond any hope of me saving, but the other was still breathing in shallow ragged breaths. I pulled a bit of the strand into him, so he would survive. I then looked at the one I had killed. His features were more bestial, and his body was bigger and stronger than a human. It had the narrow eyes and heavy brow, similar to the goblins we had fought before. I was certain, it was a hobgoblin. [I]It’s a hobgoblin attack! Can you see our friends? --No, the smoke is worse up here. I can see more movement in the center of Whitepetal, and more movement beyond to the south, but not particulars.[/I] I stood and made my way to the center of the outpost, and I saw more fighting. Elves fought against more of the hobgoblins on the bridges and walkways. I could hear the twangs of bows in the distance, and even saw a hobgoblin fall to the earth, tripping over some rope banisters with a lengthy scream. Pulling on the dark strands, I threw dark miasmas around another pair of marauders, but not before they killed the elves they had been facing. Before I could do anything, I saw a bolt of fire streak out from a building, bringing another one down in a pile of screams and flame. Its partner charged towards where the bolt came from, but I threw another purple bolt, striking it in the back as it ran towards the open doorway, where Beepu stood. I moved again towards the fallen elves, only to find that their lives had already left their bodies. In the distance I could heard Daneath’s shouts, and the sound of a shield striking a blow and the scream of a hobgoblin, descending and cutting off into sudden silence. The smoke and haze from the flames made it hard to see where he and others were fighting. I covered my mouth and nose, as tears streamed down from my eyes from the stinging smoke. Beepu circled on his platform and threw more bolts of fire at targets away from him. Daneath was still lost to me in the smoke and haze. Finally, I saw Iesa trading blows with a female hobgoblin with his rapier in one hand, and his dagger in the other. The female had the lithe figure of an elf woman over one shoulder. But this didn’t hinder the hobgoblin in the slightest as I watched the hobgoblin deflected some of Iesa’s strikes and dodged the others barehanded. Then I watched her spin and level a kick to Iesa’s head, almost knocking him over. The female then turned and dove off the ledge into the dark smoke that now covered the forest floor. All still with an unconscious figure draped over her shoulder. I watched Iesa look around himself frantically. Finally, he found a rope that he fastened onto a spar of wood, and he too slid below. [I]Goss! Follow Iesa! --Gotcha…he’s the one with little brown— GOSS! --Going![/I] I made my way towards Beepu and finally shouted at him, “Did you see any others?” The gnome shook his head, “No! Most of the elves are south of here, the few warriors died as the others retreated. However, I have not seen any more hobgoblins around either.” “Iesa just jumped down chasing a hobgoblin,” I said. “What? Alone? The fool will get himself killed,” Beepu said with a look of incredulity. “Over here! Help!” I heard Daneath call out and turning to follow his voice I found him. He was trying to clear a doorway to a central structure in the middle of a trunk of a tree. A makeshift barrier was seemly placed there, to keep the occupants trapped inside, with fire spreading fast. I ran over and concentrated for a moment, imagining a light strand being spread out over the flames. A quick shower of water appeared and extinguished the fires. Daneath then wrested open the door as Beepu moved debris and several elves emerged from the from where they were barricaded into. Each with the harrowed look of escaping a fiery death. As we looked around, the sounds of fighting had died, but not the roaring of flames or screaming. We made our way through the smoke and haze and started to save who we could. It was grisly business. For everyone I could find clinging to life, there were two others who had passed into the fugue. I wandered the night in the trees, putting out large blazes, and saving what fallen I could. Daneath and Beepu did in different ways; from freeing trapped elves, to Beepu using Foggle to reunite families. But I was searching for not just anyone. I was searching for one person. It was late when I finally found Morlea. Most of the fires had been put out, and most of my strength already spent. I found her in a small hut that jutted out from one side of a trunk of a tree. Inside it was full of choking smoke, which was slowly clearing. I breathed a sigh of relief, as she appeared to be curled up unconscious on the floor. But then I saw that her chest lay still, and I reached out with my hand to find the warmth had already left her now cool skin. I sat down on the floor next to her and pulled her lifeless body on my lap and I cradled her in my arms. I looked at her soot stained face and my tears poured from my cheeks, which streaked down her face washing away ash. I stroked her hair and closed her eyes one final time. Her face was at peace, as if dreaming. Dreaming of the next life or what ever lay beyond the fugue for the elven kind. A dream she never would have had before this night. I sobbed there quietly in the darkness. Life could be harsh, and death was a final respite. A relief from the toils of pain and suffering. But for those who died before the fullness of time; by violence or accident we could take solace that they knew peace. We the faithful should help the living carry on and learn from those that passed beyond. Words I believed in. But in this moment the words felt hollow. I had barely known this woman. I shared a moment and a drink with her in peace and friendship. I wanted to learn more from her and share with her things I knew and had learned. But the opportunity was gone, and now she would carry on that peace alone into the fugue. And I would carry her memory of that moment alone. Why? We were only here, because we sought two fathers. Not even my own father, who the multiverse had not so subtly told me to leave well enough alone. And yet, I wondered if this was all for the mazes. It seemed unfair…no [I]wrong[/I] that looking for two men should have such a high body count of innocents. It was like the multiverse had a vindictive streak against the four of us. The dead are supposed to teach us about living. What was the lesson here? I had no answers to my questions as I sat there alone on the floor with my grief in the night. All I could do was cry, hoping my tears would wash away the pain. But as I sat there, I slowly felt something else. An ember, now sparking and sputtering to life within me. A flame of hate. [B]Session notes: [/B]I did not like the last encounter. Not because it wasn’t well run, or fun or challenging. But because of the stakes of innocents were added in. It made the game feel bit grittier. But there was an emotional component to it that was unpleasant, because it wasn’t meant to be. So, I admired it. I didn’t like feeling it. [/QUOTE]
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