Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Nthal" data-source="post: 8006370" data-attributes="member: 6971069">A Morning’s Catharsis - 6/6/2020 We always remember things about the ones we lose. But sometimes it is a duty to remember things about others we don’t even know. Arnara and I entered the temple grounds, quiet and somber.  Today was the day of remembrance, for those that sacrificed themselves against the hobgoblin horde.  It wasn’t really a single service or a session.  Instead, each person came to the Temple of the Seldarine to pay their respects to the ones that meant the most to them.I considered not going at all, as I was afraid, I would intrude on something private for the elves, but Arnara encouraged me to go.  I could at least remember Morlea.  For Arnara it was more personal, not only did she lose her, but she had lost other kin; Palas, Casia and Zyana.When she first introduced herself, she almost called herself “Third daughter” of her house.  I learned that it wasn’t literal; she wasn’t the third daughter by her father; such a thing would be remarkable, and it would also be considered a bad omen as many children implied a need for them.  What it did mean of the next generation of girls in the house, she was now the eldest living.  The other two were cousins of some sort.  There was also a First Son and a Second son as well, but the prior First Son, Palas had also died fighting in the southern part of the forest. I assumed at first that they were close, but I was surprised to learn that despite the honorifics, they were quite separated in age.  The other Daughters were 304 and 231 years old, while Palas, was 278 and the current First Son was 210.  This meant that which made Arnara at 118 a was a youngster.  She did not grow up with the others; they were active adults centuries ago.  It also meant that while as close as family was, she wasn’t close to any of them due to timing.  The one she was close to was Morlea, but only because as Third daughter she was expected to be a Sonalta for another house for a decade or two and then find her own path.But becoming First Daughter changed this.“It is duty,” Arnara said sadly as she sat there one evening sipping on her mead.“That you must either become head of the house or at least marry?   And it isn’t even your choice?”  I said as I lounged drinking my wine.   “Why does…what’s his name, Wyan get to choose?”“It’s not that he chooses, its because of his age; he would be the next head of Ustina assuming the elders think he is right for the role.  He could perhaps marry into another house, but that is unlikely.”“But he gets to choose?  And not you?”Arnara looked at me with some frustration.  “No, again it is because of his age only.  Because of the others were older, he…and I for that matter, it was of no consequence.  He wasn’t going to have to do anything, as Casia is…was going to be a wise head.  But losing her and Zyana and Palas changed that.  With only two of us out of six pairings…someone must be ready to lead.  And so, all eyes are on him.  And I.”“But why does that mean you have to marry for the sake of the house?”“He does too…but if something were to happen to him, I would be the only Ustina left of my generation.  It isn’t likely that a sibling or a cousin would be born at this point.   And if one were to do so, both of us would be far older and ready to assume our stations as needed.  So, someone must marry in the house to continue the family and ideally both of us should.”“So, you wouldn’t become part of another house?”“No.  I have heard that this happens a lot in human nobility, where only the son matters.  For elven houses, anyone can marry into another house and take their name for their own.  But now…I could not do so.  Someone would have to marry into mine.”“I guess I thought that well heeled nobles had choices.” I said shaking my head.  “I guess I was naïve.”“Well...I did have choices.” Arnara said.  “I chose to study arcana and history, because they interested me and because they supported being a sonalta well.  I didn’t really have a plan beyond that.  But, as it appears, they also support being the next leader of the house.”“But I thought you said Wyan would be next?”“I said the elders would judge if he would be.  But…” Arnara looked away and sipped her mead again.  “He doesn’t have the skills; he was working closely with the druids and rangers here, and that is where his heart lay.  I do not think they would choose him as he is too far down the path.  But he will be pressured to marry and father children, keeping him away from the wilds he loves.  I think it is likely he will choose not to marry at all.”“Which leaves you.”“Only.  Because I am not yet set into a path, I can be guided.  And so, I am resigned to lead…someday it seems.”I shook my head, “Why is this so important?  It seems to be a lot of concern about something…intangible.”Arnara looked at me crossly, “We are the only two noble moon elf houses left here in the Misty Forest.   Many of our kin left in the retreat, but our house chose not to because we thought it was important to stay.  And the only way we can stay…is to be a functioning house.”   She looked at the fire in the open pit, its embers slowly dying down.“We were fortunate to have had five.   Everyone got what they wanted.  Now with only two, either Wyan and I have our choices made for us, like it or not.”So here we were in the Temple, quiet in our own thoughts.  Arnara gave me a an overview on the few things I needed to know to show the proper respects.   But it wasn’t all I needed though.The temple wasn’t a temple that I was used to; it wasn’t even a single building.  It was an open area, with covered shrines in a small grove of trees.   There were buildings around for the priests to study and teach, but it wasn’t like the large cathedrals in Waterdeep, or the bigger ones in Sigil.  This was a place for quiet, and personal retrospection.Because we were honoring our sacrifices, Arnara lead me to the shrine that was at the center of temple; the one dedicated to Corelleon Larethian.  It was a stone stele carved with a relief of a quarter moon.  The stele was almost completely shrouded in vine and moss, with only the moon showing.   There surrounding the stone stele were objects of memories, Poems on scrolls, or in folded leaves.  Arrows were common, as were carved bone and wood trinkets.  And some left small sweet cakes, in remembrance of better times.   Arnara told me of this, but she also said that some things left behind could only be carried in the heart, something that no simple object could convey.It was with her, as she knelt down and bowed her head quietly.   I waited, wondering what she was thinking, when she leaned forward, almost touching her nose to the stone path leading to the stele.  I was wondering what she was doing when I listened and could barely hear the sounds of tear drops falling down and splashing onto the stone, as she left behind her feelings.  She then straightened herself up and moved out of the way, so I could pay my own respects.For me, this remembrance was of Morlea specifically, and I chose to leave something of that memory.  I knelt down and pulled from my pouch a small vial.  Inside the vial was a dark amber liquid; the same liquor that Morlea and I shared together the night she died.  I pulled the stopper from the vial and poured the vial’s contents at the foot of the stele.“To that second drink we never had,” I whispered.   I then stood up and looked around.  Arnara had started to walk back to our dwelling, when she noticed I wasn’t following her.  I was instead making my way to a priestess that was tending to another shrine.  Arnara had just caught up with me, when I reached the priestess and asked a question.“I am sorry to trouble you,” I said in elvish.The woman was surprised but nodded politely, “And what can I do for you…Ha-celas?”“I am a priestess of Kelemvor,” I said continuing in elvish and watching carefully for signs of offense.  “I have read that he and one of the Seldarine have…an understanding.  I think it was Naralis Analor if I remember correctly.”She nodded slowly with respect, “Yes.  He aids Sehanie Moonbow in the shepherding of the dead, from Kelemvor’s realm.”  I heard behind me Arnara as she caught up with us.“I would like to, say the …appropriate prayer.  I saw many fall in Whitepetal, but I knew only one by name.  I feel obligated to honor them—”“I understand.  There are no formal rites for the dead as each one is personal.  However, saying a prayer to your own god at Naralis’ shrine would be…acceptable if you feel you must.”“Its an obligation.  Where is his shrine?”“There, under the willows at the edge. Others have left their thoughts there as well.”“My thanks,” and we bowed our heads to each other, and then I turned and made my way to the shrine she pointed out, with Arnara in tow.“I didn’t realize you had more to do,” Arnara said.“Duty is powerful thing,” I replied.The shrine was another stele of stone, but smaller, and instead of grey granite, this was one was of a dark polished stone, with veins of white running through it.  Here too were offerings, but unlike the ones at Corellon’s shrine, these were all keepsake boxes, tied shut with strings.“Messages,” Arnara said guessing at my thoughts.  I nodded and knelt on both of my knees and sat on the back of my heels.   Bowing my head, I grasped my symbol of the skeletal hand with the balance, and prayed aloud in elvish:No one should be alone, in life or death,Death is a part of life, not an ending but a beginningDeath is without deceit and has meaning,May all your souls find passage to Arvandor,And gaze from the Overlook, into the Crescent Grove, May your kin guide you on the next step of your journey,Because Death is never an end, but a way post,Not a destination, but a Journey, The memory of your deeds will live forever within you,So be the will of my Lord, and my desire in faithMay Death give way to Rebirth.I breathed in deeply and tried to remember the many faces that I had seen at Whitepetal.  I thought of Alanathia, and Galenas.  I thought of Arnara’s cousins.  It didn’t matter if they were living or dead, both needed blessings, if for different reasons.  For good fortune, for peace and comfort, for rest now that their labors were complete.I don’t remember how long it was that I knelt there, but finally I stood again and  turned around.  Arnara was still standing  there, looking at me, her brow furrowed in thought, and she followed me as we made our way back to the house by the pond.  By the time we had returned, it was only midmorning.I was about to head back into ‘that room’ to finish my work, when Arnara spoke.“That was…unexpected. I did not know you knew the Seldarine well, as we had never talked about them.”“I don’t really,” I said.  “I can’t say a know a lot of powers.  But I do know most of the ones related to death.  Many of them are involved with Kelemvor in some way.”“But he is a new god is he not?”I nodded, “Yes, but his position has been held by others before him.  The original one is now said to be Kelemvor’s scribe.  So, Death is eternal, but the one who guides the souls in the Fugue changes.”“For all souls? For all races?”“Kelemvor is the judge of the dead, not death itself.  So, while all `go to the Fugue, its perhaps the only the first step of a journey.  The dwarves are guided from the Fugue, by their respective servants of the Morndinsamman, the elves by the Seldarine, the dharrow by…well anyway very few stays.”“Why would any stay?”“They were not devout or were false I am told; they get judged and punished or rarely rewarded.  The worst are the Faithless and the False, they become part of the wall that surrounds the city and…fade away.”“And you…where do you believe you would go?”After a moment I said, “I would go the Fugue and remain as a loyal servant I suppose.”“I just have never heard of any elf going to that place; we go to Arvandor and are reborn.”“I believe they just pass through, it’s not like I saw any elves when I there.”Arnara was taken aback, her mouth dropped open in surprise.  Finally she asked, almost whispering.  “What…did…you say?”I closed my eyes and I grimaced; this wasn’t a door I had meant to open and talk about.  But now it was open a crack, I felt my heart pound as I talked.  “I was killed by a hyena outside of Yartar and I was…brought back.”Arnara was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, “And you…saw the afterlife.”“Briefly,” I sighed as I sat on the bed, shaking a bit.  “According to my friends it wasn’t even a day.   There, I had no idea.  I knew I was dead, and I…” I let my words fade away, uncertain if I wanted to explain.  No, that wasn’t right.  I was certain.   But I was very afraid to.“What?”I steeled myself, hoping that telling someone might help me find some peace.“I didn’t want to return,” I said looking at the elf revealing myself.  I had told the others that if I hadn’t come back that they wouldn’t have been in debt to Mordai, but I never told them my true shame; I never wanted to.“At the time, everyone else I had cared deeply about was already dead.  I had no reason to come back,” I hung my head and teared up a bit.  “So many others deserved to live.  Far more deserving than me.   I’m no one.  Why not Daneath’s and Iesa’s father?   Why not your cousins or Morlea?  Why not--”I couldn’t say Elisna’s name as I couldn’t hold back anymore.   The anger and the guilt burst forth up from within me, on full display to a woman who had lost her kin and her freedom.  The tears welled up within me and I slumped on the mattress, unable to contain myself.   Here I was alive again, and I was complaining about living, to a person who lost loved ones.  It felt selfish, and yet what I felt was more constricting than the binding.  Unable to escape the guilt, that tied me to my friends.  To everyone I met and saved; Pathorn, Alanathia, and Revelvan.  Was it ever enough?  And yet the ones closest to me were the ones I couldn’t save; Elisna, Markell, and Morlea.  Who would I fail next?My tears poured from my eyes like rivers, my stomach ached and heaved as I gasped for air.  I felt a fraud; a person unworthy of the gift bestowed on me.No forced upon me.  By my father.  One of several cruel ironies and unwanted gifts with even less wanted obligations.  An undefined purpose: a secret arrangement made I was to honor and uphold like…Arnara’s duty to her family, where all pretense of choice was revealed to be a sham.I lay there gasping for breath, and I felt Arnara lay behind me and pressed herself against my back as she embraced me.  I continued to cry as she spoke gently to me.“We don’t always make the choice; all we can do is live with what comes, and what doesn’t.   You should not feel guilty about something you did not do or could not do.  That you do, makes you…a worthy person.   To not squander what has been given, you must be aware of it.”My tears slowed as I rolled on my side to look at her in those grey eyes.  “I cannot blame you for my cousins; their fate was never in your hands.  And I do believe, you must be worthy to be returned to the living.  These are not casual mistakes or games of chance, no matter how it looks.  Just because we do not understand why, doesn’t make it less worthy of a miracle.”I sniffled, as I lay there looking up.  “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t burden anyone with my problems.”“It is not a burden; it can be painful.  And though it may not look it, we elves feel as deeply about matters as you.  We just have better—”“—manners?”“Timing,” she chided.I chuckled softly.  “Thank you…you are a good—”“Sonalta?”“No.   A good friend.  A good Sonalta would help me get dressed after I finish my project,” I said with a grin and a sniffle.“I see,” she said archly but with a smirk at the same time.  “Well, I will leave you to it, while I fetch your dress.  And she climbed off the bed, and gently waved as she left, with a kind wry smile on her lips.“I should do something for her,” I said to myself as I sat up, and looked at the desk.  The rod lay there, waiting for its final binding.   I got up, and stood at the desk, and centered myself.   It was time to finish my first creation.I picked up the metal rod, its surface smooth and cool to my touch.  I focused inwards, pulling on the strands to weave its final lattice.  I pulled from myself two strands; one light and dark and began to wrap them round it, starting at the base, and working their way to the purple sapphire at the top.  I pulled them taut and stretched them, drawing the pair until they covered the rod in power.  Finally, I pulled them around the corundum itself, crisscrossing and knotting it at the top.I could feel the quanta begin to follow the Strands, maintaining a balance between the opposing poles of light an dark, as the rod began to soak the ambient energy.  It wasn’t long before the rod was saturated with the quanta.   I took a deep breath as I started the final step.Talans mentioned that the difficulty in working this steel was the quenching needed to temper it.  As I found out, magic was no different; it just had a different method.  And unlike a suit of armor, or a sword you didn’t need to break it away from the fires of the forge to call it done.  But you did with magic; I needed to first infuse it with power, and then sever it from the source.From me.I began to open the rod to the power of the strands.  It first flowed easily, until I felt it hit some limit.   Then I gritted my teeth and focused.   I started to push more and more into it.  I could feel the strands first strain and then give; increasing their volume as the Strands now penetrated the surface of the rod, and now began to truly infuse it with power.   I kept pushing and straining, pushing all the quanta I had into it.  As I pushed, I could feel the energy waiver and resist; wanting to flow back into me.This was the moment; I  started to knot them at the top, stemming the tide of energy from returning to me.  I could feel the strands waver and shake in oscillation, desperate to release their power.  As the oscillations became more frantic, I then focused the last energy I had and welded the ends of the strands together.I felt a violent wrenching as the polar opposite ends of the strands touched; the energy started to travel from one end to the other, moving fast.  I then pushed one last time and focused my mind on one task: breaking the connection to me.I pulled the strands taught; swollen and full of power, and now resistant to my attempts to order and bend them to my will.   I gritted my teeth and yanked, and suddenly the strand burst, nearly knocking me onto the ground.I could see the corundum sparkle and glow with a light of its own.  It now had its own power; power that once I held, it now contained in a single never-ending strand.   I could feel what almost were like filaments caressing the object.  They connected me to it, without becoming a part of me once again.I held the rod level at my chest; and could feel the power circulating through it on its own accord.   Moving into the main room, I could feel it…searching.  I then spied Gossamer, sleeping in the sun.I turned it towards Gossamer, and I felt its power focus its attention at him.  Smiling I knew if I channeled magic at him, it would have an easier time binding my personal strands to the task.  I straightened the rod and pulled it close smiling, and kissed the jewel at the top.--If you use that thing on me, I will scratch you so hard, you’ll wish you were in Baator.Sorry; you were handy. --Expedient is more likely.Sorry!Ignoring Gossamers’ lecture, I was pleased with myself, despite the mornings’ emotional toll.  Now my emotions were at a peak as I admired it...my will, my creation.  And I suppose they were correct, that a little bit of pain did need to be involved.Session Notes:Originally this was just GIVEN to Myrai as a reward directly from Melandrach, and was laid out in her chambers.  But as the story evolved, it made more sense that he provided the means, and that Myrai put the pieces together.  It was something that was researched in Waterdeep originally as well (and gold paid for) but we never ran across as CR5 undead that was the original component.But the hobgoblin warlord, and devastator were close enough <img class="smilie smilie--emoji" alt="😊" src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f60a.png" title="Smiling face with smiling eyes    :blush:" data-shortname=":blush:" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" />.As a note, the next section will be the last of the downtime stories, but will quickly get back to us doing, whatever we were doing.</blockquote>

Verification