KirayaTiDrekan
Adventurer
The Duchy of Mentlar, 2375 (Elven Calendar)
"112 years ago, humans first came to Telgar. The explorers from another land did not expect to find others here, but they did. Elves and dwarves, and halflings, all living peacefully. Other humans, those of Thune, may have conquered these peaceful lands, but out ancestors chose a different path. Larent the First, first King of the nation that bears his name, sought peace with the people of Telgar."
The storyteller stood tall for a moment, mimicking Larent the First's pose in the paintings that depict him. The wooden stage was surrounded by eager children and their parents, some bored, some just as eager as the children. The parents had heard the story before, of course. It was told every spring festival, one of the five seasonal holidays of Larent.
Perrin, the storyteller, judged the frontier-folk's reactions and let his dramatic pause linger a moment longer before continuing the story, "The peace did not last long. A dark sorceress, Azilyk, forged a weapon, the Dagger of Souls, into which she poured all of her ambition, hatred, and lust for power. With it, she summoned an army of demons and undead to her side. Larent the First, his Kingdom barely a year old, assembled an army of his own. And by his side, his companions, those who come to this land with him, and new heroes, those protecting their homes. Galen and Blain Krona, cleric and thief. Ruggin Deepmine, dwarf. Moodrinthal, High Wizard-Lord of the elves. Jyros Logan, the stranger not of this time. And Kiraya TiDrekan, sister of Azilyk and the only one who could rival her in magical power. The final battle took the heroes to the gateway of Kae'Alor, ancient elven homeland. No one, except perhaps the elves of Kae'Alor, knows why Azilyk wanted the secrets within the elven homeland, but the heroes were determined that she not succeed. Azilyk and Kiraya lit up the night sky with magics of fire and lightning and eldritch power. Larent and the others fought against Azilyk's demonic champions on the very steps of the fortress containing Kae'Alor's most treasured secret."
Perrin raised his arms in a flourish, raising his voice for the climax of the story, "Azilyk, her body broken, unleashed one final, desperate spell, seeking to usurp another body. But, King Larent plunged his sword through her heart before she could finish. The power unleashed shook the very ground. Larent and Moodrinthal were the only ones to survive. The others were lost, but their sacrifice had helped to ensure Azilyk's defeat. Her soul trapped in an indestructible gemstone, hidden away by Larent and Moodrinthal. But...what of Azilyk's weapon, the Dagger of Souls? It was lost, never found by the heroes. What horrible destiny does it still hold? No one knows. Thus is the tale of the Dagger War."
Perrin bowed to enthusiastic applause from the gathering. The young Duke Dervin Mentlar, watching from his pavilion nearby, applauded as well. Perrin stepped off the stage to greet the Duke, whose father had been an adventuring companion of the storyteller.
Among the crowd was Merrick, far from home. Mentlar Duchy was on the eastern frontier, on the border of the elven land of Kae'Aline. Merrick was used to the rugged hills of Wyvernsbane Duchy and the constant patrols and militia training that most citizens underwent to defend the southern border of the Kingdom from the monsters to the south. Here in Mentlar Duchy, things seemed serene and peaceful. Life was hard work here, it seemed, as today's festival was the beginning to planting season, but hardly anyone was wearing weapons...back home, everyone carried a weapon.
Stoja was here as well. Her home village was not far from here, only a few days by horse, but it was an isolated village nonetheless. They didn't appreciate strangers...or magic. It was due to Stoja's practice of the latter that Stoja was now here in Mentlar Township, the capital of the Duchy, during the Spring Festival.
And then there was Cyral. A crowd like this was the perfect place for a pickpocket and a thief. Cyral wasn't the only one, of course. Most of the thieves in Mentlar Duchy belonged to Jareth's Jackals, a guild of bandits and thieves who spent most of the time harassing and stealing from travelers on the long road between Wyvernsbane Duchy and Mentlar Duchy. During the festivals, however, they came in to town to pick a few pockets.
Merrick, Stoja, and Cyral all notice an elf wandering through the crowd, careful to avoid meeting the eyes of the Duke or the storyteller. This elf was unlike the local Kae'Aline elves - they were all blond or red haired and had skin kissed with color by the sun. This elf had jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes, with skin as pale as moonlight. Merrick knew from his coloring that this elf was from Kae'Alet, the elven realm that surrounded the capital city of the Kingdom, north of Wyvernsbane Duchy.
The mysterious elf carried a a longsword and wore leather armor beneath his cloak. He spoke to no one and sat, away from the crowd, under a tree, his gaze wandering back to the Duke and the storyteller.
"112 years ago, humans first came to Telgar. The explorers from another land did not expect to find others here, but they did. Elves and dwarves, and halflings, all living peacefully. Other humans, those of Thune, may have conquered these peaceful lands, but out ancestors chose a different path. Larent the First, first King of the nation that bears his name, sought peace with the people of Telgar."
The storyteller stood tall for a moment, mimicking Larent the First's pose in the paintings that depict him. The wooden stage was surrounded by eager children and their parents, some bored, some just as eager as the children. The parents had heard the story before, of course. It was told every spring festival, one of the five seasonal holidays of Larent.
Perrin, the storyteller, judged the frontier-folk's reactions and let his dramatic pause linger a moment longer before continuing the story, "The peace did not last long. A dark sorceress, Azilyk, forged a weapon, the Dagger of Souls, into which she poured all of her ambition, hatred, and lust for power. With it, she summoned an army of demons and undead to her side. Larent the First, his Kingdom barely a year old, assembled an army of his own. And by his side, his companions, those who come to this land with him, and new heroes, those protecting their homes. Galen and Blain Krona, cleric and thief. Ruggin Deepmine, dwarf. Moodrinthal, High Wizard-Lord of the elves. Jyros Logan, the stranger not of this time. And Kiraya TiDrekan, sister of Azilyk and the only one who could rival her in magical power. The final battle took the heroes to the gateway of Kae'Alor, ancient elven homeland. No one, except perhaps the elves of Kae'Alor, knows why Azilyk wanted the secrets within the elven homeland, but the heroes were determined that she not succeed. Azilyk and Kiraya lit up the night sky with magics of fire and lightning and eldritch power. Larent and the others fought against Azilyk's demonic champions on the very steps of the fortress containing Kae'Alor's most treasured secret."
Perrin raised his arms in a flourish, raising his voice for the climax of the story, "Azilyk, her body broken, unleashed one final, desperate spell, seeking to usurp another body. But, King Larent plunged his sword through her heart before she could finish. The power unleashed shook the very ground. Larent and Moodrinthal were the only ones to survive. The others were lost, but their sacrifice had helped to ensure Azilyk's defeat. Her soul trapped in an indestructible gemstone, hidden away by Larent and Moodrinthal. But...what of Azilyk's weapon, the Dagger of Souls? It was lost, never found by the heroes. What horrible destiny does it still hold? No one knows. Thus is the tale of the Dagger War."
Perrin bowed to enthusiastic applause from the gathering. The young Duke Dervin Mentlar, watching from his pavilion nearby, applauded as well. Perrin stepped off the stage to greet the Duke, whose father had been an adventuring companion of the storyteller.
Among the crowd was Merrick, far from home. Mentlar Duchy was on the eastern frontier, on the border of the elven land of Kae'Aline. Merrick was used to the rugged hills of Wyvernsbane Duchy and the constant patrols and militia training that most citizens underwent to defend the southern border of the Kingdom from the monsters to the south. Here in Mentlar Duchy, things seemed serene and peaceful. Life was hard work here, it seemed, as today's festival was the beginning to planting season, but hardly anyone was wearing weapons...back home, everyone carried a weapon.
Stoja was here as well. Her home village was not far from here, only a few days by horse, but it was an isolated village nonetheless. They didn't appreciate strangers...or magic. It was due to Stoja's practice of the latter that Stoja was now here in Mentlar Township, the capital of the Duchy, during the Spring Festival.
And then there was Cyral. A crowd like this was the perfect place for a pickpocket and a thief. Cyral wasn't the only one, of course. Most of the thieves in Mentlar Duchy belonged to Jareth's Jackals, a guild of bandits and thieves who spent most of the time harassing and stealing from travelers on the long road between Wyvernsbane Duchy and Mentlar Duchy. During the festivals, however, they came in to town to pick a few pockets.
Merrick, Stoja, and Cyral all notice an elf wandering through the crowd, careful to avoid meeting the eyes of the Duke or the storyteller. This elf was unlike the local Kae'Aline elves - they were all blond or red haired and had skin kissed with color by the sun. This elf had jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes, with skin as pale as moonlight. Merrick knew from his coloring that this elf was from Kae'Alet, the elven realm that surrounded the capital city of the Kingdom, north of Wyvernsbane Duchy.
The mysterious elf carried a a longsword and wore leather armor beneath his cloak. He spoke to no one and sat, away from the crowd, under a tree, his gaze wandering back to the Duke and the storyteller.
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