Cambrya the Second Age

If rocks could talk. VI

“They won’t let me have a carriage.” Oblitus thought to himself while staring at a Ladder.

“I can lay the ladder across Henry, using the Forest Box as leverage, and build my own carriage.” Oblitus smiled as he created the early stages of his makeshift carriage.

“All it needs now are some walls. How will I make walls though? “ Oblitus let out a sigh from frustration.

“Oh well, at least I found this pitch fork. Silly werewolf thought it was a ghost! HA! Will I become a ghost when I die? Fereydoon came back to life, the Dragons died, some of the Drow came back as skeletons… How do you become a Ghost?” Oblitus’s thoughts were broken by the sound of the werewolves saying that enemies were coming near.

Oblitus quickly removed the ladder from Henry, and set it against the wall of the house that he had used last encounter as high ground. He climbed back up, and got into place in case there were more skeletons coming to kill him. “This time I will be ready for the Drow who can jump onto the roof.”

To his dismay, it was a group of Vampires that had strolled up to the party. Not just vampires, but the lead vampire of this area. Elliandor, and the rest of the group started to talk to him, trying to figure out a way to rescue Scarlet. “I hope I don’t fall off the roof. It’s not too far down. I wonder if I could use my Purple Feather Cloak to glide down. I will have to try it sometime! If I did it now, they would probably be angry with me. Plus I don’t want to be on the ground with Vampires. Not that they scare me. I don’t think Vampires can hurt me actually, I don’t have blood. I can’t be a vampire can I? I should ask the leader Vampire if I can be one. He is a bad guy though, I think. It’s hard to tell anymore who is good and who is bad. If he was a good guy I could tell him who I was and find out if I would become a vampire. I don’t trust him yet though. Oh, could I be a werewolf? They are good guys! Well, I think? They are helping us kind of. They aren’t attacking the Vampires though. Then again we aren’t attacking the vampires. Tobias might be a werewolf, he has hairy feet. A Wereling. Ha! Or a Halfwolf!”

Oblitus’s mind raced for a moment as he saw movement from near the party. The Vampire Drow moved to attack the group. One even jumped up on the roof where he was standing.

“What should I do?” he reached out to the group asking.

“Defend yourself, Kill the Drow” was Iz’Bryn’s response.

Oblitus nodded his head, and took a defensive posture. The Drow was quick, but Oblitus attacked with his mind, and the mind is much quicker than any Drow, or Vampire that he had ever seen. In what seemed like an instant, Oblitus brought forth a Hammer of Psychic Force which pummeled the enemy, easily felling it. “That was easy!” he thought to himself.

Oblitus looked for another adversary, but all of the enemies, save for the lead vampire were already dispatched. The werewolf said that we shouldn’t attack. Oblitus, and his companions all obliged.

“What happens if a Werewolf bites a Vampire? That would be a nasty creature. I can put a chair on Henry! That will almost be like a carriage…” Oblitus’s thoughts trailed off as he continued to ponder combining different species, and how to turn Henry into a carriage.

Quiet Thought

The snow is falling in quiet little flakes, its like the sky is trying to cry and its too cold. I have seen it colder, so cold the winter queen tries to steal your life with her eternal moan. Today however feels colder as I stand stoically on guard for Halbrecht while he meditates. The others are moving around some deep in thought, some angry at our situation, and I think the goblin is trying to claim a set of gloves that someone took off to tend the fire. I think back on the last few days and I see my past calling out from the darkness reminding me what indecision does to a group when its being faced with a real enemy. Albrecht’s eyes are hauntingly wide there is a cross bow bolt in his ribs and there is black ichor around where it went in. I run to him in panic; I force the old memory from my mind. It does however ring true one fact. I am standing in front of my friend who may be slain or slay his brother a brother in arms is dead and we all have an execution axe licking our necks because we have been making panicked decisions and letting the enemy control the board moving us like a pawns.

I keep look out with intent, but out jailers in this voluntary captivity are still sitting much as we do across the snow covered bit of ground. I notice one of their number is standing guard stoically 15 feet in front of Halbrecht’s brother staring back at me. One of there number seems to be tending the fire without the worry of a pet goblin taking his gloves when he isn’t looking. In this moment of peaceful tension I know they are out there watching. The two bastards have played this game well and the only thing I doubt they expected was us not to run right out after them into an ambush or a false trail. I know they are watching and plotting what they will do if these knights believe us. I glance at the four dead drow and remember there sneers. I wonder what the two in the woods are planning for me now. Surely now they know, from their listening tubes, I had a hand in there allies defeat and know more of the plot than I should.

The snow quietly drifts down and dances down the road of my mind and I see it falling lazily as I approach Redfield’s camp. I have seen many things in the woods that when caught off guard cannot stand in a fight even though they could kill a man in ambush. That is what I thought stalked Redfield’s camp looking for an easy meal. Then I saw it leave the back of large tent, a drow using his self conjured shadow to keep light from escaping the flap as he left. He then broke into a dead run, ASSASSIN, I ran after him. “Bane guide strongly my hands, world serpent cover my flesh, Dark queen please be prepared to greet your dead.” Snow whipped past as my heart thundered in my ears and I chased. Then I realized who was chasing who. I came into a clearing and felt the trap close. Four wicked smiles gleamed in the moonlight and they were no warning horns from the camp. There was a snicker and they started to circle thinking they must have caught some green stick farm boy fresh from the plow fields with a weapon he couldn’t possibly even swing with skill. I acted scared, not hard since I was, and slowly backed against a tree and jumped as one shot a bolt at my feet. They were laughing as the one I had chased and one of the other three tried to slide beside me. I allowed one of the scouts a spot next to me and yielded ground. When the one I had seen leaving the largest tent, what must have been Redfield’s tent I bellowed and swung. The smile quickly left the bastards face. Dagger, drow and blood went flying as the flaming heart of rage entered me. I tried to be coherent, to scream my anger at them and let them know the crimes they would be killed for. I don’t think they understood.

They changed tactics. They now knew they had a lion not a lamb and they came at me from the corners smiles all gone. One backed off firing a crossbow as I tried to hack one of the others limbs off. The bolt firmly in my arm I kept swinging down. Maybe they planned to feint so that one I was attacking could get in a gut shot but my mind and heart were alive only for his blood. I felt the other strike me as my sword cut open the one in front of me. I turned to face him, he spun and slashed across my leg, I didn’t care, I slammed the injured leg’s boot into his chest and brought my sword down. The one I had knocked away was getting up now and I felt a line form across my belly. I took a moment as some part of my mind screamed and checked to make sure my intestines were still on the inside. The drake in my soul ROARED in pain and would not be turned from it’s meal even if it died eating it. I swung wide and injured one seriously, it retreated a bit while the others shot at me. If they hit I didn’t care. I wouldn’t let these bastards take Redfield, Albrecht, or Valence the world needed good men and less of these pieces of scum who kill them. My left eye wasn’t working anymore I think there was blood in it, but my right saw just fine as the tall man knocked one of the two crossbowmen on their asses into the drow still at my side trying to kill me. He put a fist into the other one that must have sent teeth flying. The one next to me on the ground got up and turned his attention towards the newcomer I made him pay for it. Damned if I couldn’t chase him though. My arm was stuck to the tree. It must be caught on a branch. The snow lazily drifted to the ground and i’m on my knees, my blood is screaming at me to get up but my body isn’t listening anymore. I watch as the man with the grizzled beard fights and fights well. I can’t see well now blood is in both eyes and every thing is red and the snow is falling so quietly reminds me of something from my past I forgot.

I saw him a few times from the back of his horse, tall man. I must have been out for a while. When I awoke I had to explain to the guard I met in Bright cliff who was seated beside my bed what happened. He handed me the packed dagger and told me what the rest of the world knew. “I have to find Emiel. The king of the north will not believe me with only this, we have to come up with more and we have to go there and stop this war or the might of the north will be a terrible thing.” were words that turned him a little pale. “Let me get you a map and some directions to help you get back to Emiel.” he responded. I rode out later that day bandaged bruised and with a clear purpose.

I look at Halbrecht out of the corner of my eye as he sits in a small patch of warm snow cleared ground quietly speaking to his god. Must be nice to have faith so strong your god answers back. I can only stand guard as he prepares to fight his brother and know this is our fault. He is with us because I wanted him here. He has stayed with us because we needed him. He continues to stay with us because he thinks we are right. He could die or slay his brother for the men he has known only a month because they gave their word after failing to keep their word. Damned door to door dwarves, you would think that Bahamut would have given him more damned sense than to stick with our miscreant lot, but as I look over my friend I guess not today.

I have heard it is darkest before the dawn. As I stand guard for Halbrecht, I hope so. How we got to this em pass is a pattern only a spider would recognize , but our enemies are swift of mind and now they have the lives of two kings sons. Pup was a good man and he deserved more than he got. I think he believed in truth far more than this world could bear and because of our deceptions he is dead. I caused him to give his name and revealed our deceptions and like a madman asked him to lie to his mentors. Of course he walked off. I can only imagine how Roslyn feels, that’s a lie, I know exactly how he feels and it eats a man up inside. We should have taken charge let the cards fall before an honorable man and let him make his own choice. Instead we asked what we should never have asked and sent the man off. At least Roslyn was there for him when he died. Now though the piper is calling and we have answered and I wonder if Emiel sees that all the pawns are where the enemy wants them the rooks are dead and the knights are making the decisions for the king. Whoever leads, me, Emiel, Rynn, or even Frostfire we need to stop playing the other teams game and start playing our own or its going to be colder in the south than any day Solstin ever saw.

The snow is falling quietly and I want to remember something, someone, someplace, some people, but I can’t. I can’t seem to remember them anymore. Only the friends I came back for and who I am trying desperately to keep alive.

If rocks could talk. V

Oblitus sits in the dark temple of Vecna, with a small ornate chest open in front of him. He fumbles around with its contents quietly, keeping to himself.

They tell me it was a dream. I don’t sleep. If dreams happen when you sleep, how can I have a dream? I don’t believe it was a dream. I also can’t read thoughts, I mean I can see images, and I know how to communicate in another person’s mind… Was it more? Was I able to delve into the depths of Simon’s mind, and relive his memories? Even if I did, I didn’t see things from his perspective. I was Cillian! I was hungry, my wing was broken, I was a bird. How did I become a bird from the past, and still stay in the present though? There are so many questions, and I am not sure who to go to anymore. They are all dismissing my thoughts as though I am some child who knows nothing of the world. It might be true, they do know more than I.

I am sure the forest gives us the chests; I have seen the humans in the towns. They don’t part with anything of their own free will, unless they gain from it anyway. I really do not see why someone would follow us through the woods, in the cover of night, and leave us with treasures for no reason. People we don’t even know, if they are even people. What if I am right and they offend the forest? What if they are right and I look like a child to them? I need to prove myself and show them that I am not the fool they think me to be.

My experience as Cillian has to be the way… I felt the birds pain, I felt his hunger, I wanted to eat that field mouse. It had been days since my last meal. I saw the trepidation on Scarlet’s face when the guards announced who they were. How she began to cry as they broke into the house, and she had to flee out of the window. I saw Simon defend her, and give himself to the authorities so she, and her baby would not be killed for thievery. This was no dream. This happened. Simon knows it happened, he has been acting strange ever since I mentioned it. The validation I need is in the hands of the enemy.

Why have things become so difficult? It was much easier in Sigil where I could just do research, and translate for people. I had Lloyd, and my work to do, and that was about it. This adventuring is fun, and I really enjoy learning new things, and seeing the world. I just don’t know that putting everyone’s life at risk is worth it. I need to find a way to get Simon to admit that I know the truth, and that those events did take place. I need my friends to look at me as an equal. They must believe in the forest. They must believe I was a bird.

Oblitus’s focus is broken as he hears Tobias talk in his sleep. He looks over to his friend, and gives him the blanket he had stored in his backpack as he slips the chest back into its place.

“Sleep well Tobias.” he said quietly, then walked off to examine the temple better…

Cillian's Supper (by Anthony)

((This was a vision that Oblitus had before game on 1/22/11. In the morning, the party found him as a pile of rocks.))

You are suddenly not yourself. You can feel feathers covering your body. Long feathers, like spokes of a wheel, cover your wings. You are a black bird and you are perched on a tall hat rack in a lantern lit room. Yet, there is something off. Your right wing feels stiff and as you unconsciously move it, you feel a deep ache as if it was broken and mending.

Shattered crates and jugs litter the room, giving the impression of a store house. A woman with striking, red hair is humming a gentle tune, rubbing her belly. As you see her rolling up two bedrolls, you realize that you are looking at a young Scarlet Wanderlust. She can’t be more than 18 years old and looks sublimely happy.

Suddenly, there is a rhythmic series of knocks and scratches at the door. Scarlet stops for a moment to listen, then gives two stomps, scratches the toe of her boot on the ground, then three more stomps. The door quietly slips open and a young man glides inside, quickly closing it behind him.

“That was a close call”, he mutters.

Scarlet frowns, “Close call? Simon, what happened?”

The young Simon Oakheart seems to be about the same age as Scarlet. It is clear that he is the same Simon you know, the one that tried to kidnap you under the guise of Professor Waldorft. Judging by their faces, they seem to be approximately ten years younger.

“Don’t worry about it, Scar. You need to eat”, he says with a smile and a kiss on her cheek. Then he unrolls the bundle he had tucked beneath his arm to reveal a loaf of bread and a roasted pork haunch.

“Not if it means you getting arrested. When we get to Falgard the stealing has to stop”, she murmurs, her hand protectively over her stomach.

Simon deftly pulls out his dagger and begins to slice meat from the pork and lays the pieces gently in front of her. “When we get to Falgard, I’ll find honest work. But until then, you’re eating for two and I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure my family is fed.”

Scarlet smirks and nods towards you, “What about Cillian? He hasn’t eaten in days.”

“Cillian too. I brought something special for the bird.”

Simon stands and pulls a tied handkerchief from his pocket. He approaches your perch and an overwhelming sense of trust washes over you.

His voice is gentle and you can see concern in his eyes, “Cillian, you need to eat. I know that you want to hunt, but Scar says your wing may not be ready yet. Here, I brought you a bit of supper, if you’ll take it…”

Simon raises his cupped hands to reveal a delicious looking, live field mouse. You feel pangs of hunger in your stomach as it sniffs around in his hands. You want to eat, hunt or not. You need to feel this mouse’s warmth in your gut. Suddenly, there is a loud rapping at the door!

You feel fear and you see the look of terror on Scarlet’s face. “We are Bridgestone Law! We know you’re in there, you rotten thieves!”

Simon and Scarlet share a silent, meaningful look as the guards begin to kick the door. The wood frame shakes violently with each kick and it causes you to flap your wings. The movement sends pain from your feathers to your beak.

“Scar, the window”, Simon whispers as he let’s the mouse jump to the floor. Your dinner scurries away in the chaos, but panic has overtaken hunger.

“Not without you”, she whispers back, her eyes welling with tears.

“There’s dry-tarred rope from the roof to the street. You should be able to make it if you hurry. It’ll take you longer to climb down in your condition. I’ll keep them busy…”

“Simon, if they know of our crimes they will kill you. I cannot-”

He interrupts her with a yell, “Go!” Then he draws his short sword the instant the door splinters and crashes open. In a fraction of a moment, she’s holding her stomach, sprinting to the window.

Suddenly, you can no longer feel your feathers or your beak. You are no longer in the room. There is a pain in your shoulder and strangely enough, one near the middle of your chest. What happened to Simon and Scarlet? What happened to your supper?

Mages Monograph

The golden fields sway in a gentle breeze, in the distance a hint of smoke glides along wind. A commotion can be heard as metal clangs on metal. As the din of sound rings through the air a woman screams.

Rynn snaps awake shaking the sleep from his head. Groggy, he stands taking the few steps to a puddle that formed during the night. Cupping the cold dirty water in his hands he rubs his face.

“Damn dream” he sighs to himself.

His eyes flutter open as he checks himself making sure no one divested him of his belongings. He takes a look around at his surroundings, getting his bearings. After a few moments of clearing his head he leaves the dingy back alley into the streets of Brightcliff. The bustle of the City of Splendor was already in full effect as Rynn steps out onto the walkway. Rynn closes his eyes and listens to the quiet jingle of purses as their owners make their way through the marketplace; Rynn smiles to himself.

Rynn slips his way into the crowd, weaving in through the river of bodies easily making his way toward the Central District. For as long as Rynn could remember he could sense the movements of others and of the world around him. In pale blue hues the subtle movements of muscles could be seen and allowed Rynn a sense of the world he felt no one else had. As he grew up, he learned that he could create these movements where there was none; picking pockets had never been so easy.

By the time Rynn made it to the Central District he had more than enough money to get himself a decent meal. Making his way to the Tawdry Tome, he spied an elderly gentleman with a rather large entourage. While this wouldn’t normally pique Rynn’s interest the fact that every member of this group carried chests and, more importantly, books certainly caught his attention. Rynn’s eyes lit up with some excitement as he saw the pale blue hue highlight the movements of the group.

“Today is looking particularly good” he said to himself.

Then out of the crowd, “RYNN! THERE HE IS!” yelled an older gruff man in armor.

Rynn, feeling the movement of the armor, ducked into the crowd. He began weaving through the sea of people like a fish in water. Rynn looked behind him to see if Guardsman Grimson was still on his tail. It was quickly answered with a scream as the guards shoved their way through the crowd. Seeing an alley ahead, Rynn took a hard right and began working his way up the wall to a balcony above. He heard the guards below poking through the garbage looking for him. He rolled to his back and smiled; this was the life.

By noon Rynn was back on the streets wandering through the wizard district, poking his head in random stores. He finally came upon his favorite shop, the Mages Monograph. He opened the door for a customer that was leaving and smiled politely as they passed.

“Gilliand! You here?” Rynn called out.

From the back a gruff old voice answered, “Rynn? You troublemaker, what do you want?”

Rynn smiled as he approached Gilliand, “Just thought I would check out any new shipments you have in.”

“Oh, that so?” Gilliand gave Rynn a stern look as if expecting the young man to grab anything and run. “Fine, fine, I think I may have some new material.” Gilliand began to look through some stacks of books around him, pulling out a few. “Here you go lad. Just remember the rules.” Gilliand stated waving his finger at Rynn.

“I remember. No taking the books from the store. Or you’ll turn me into a sheep.” Rynn recited, “You know ever since the first time you did that I haven’t done a thing.”

Gilliand gave Rynn a wry smile, “To me maybe.”

Rynn took the books to a corner of the store; he looked at Gilliand and smiled. He had known the old man for almost two years now, ever since he tried to steal some of Gilliands stock and was summarily turned into a rather plump sheep. Gilliand offered to turn him back as long as Rynn agreed to work for him for a year and a day. Since then Gilliand is the closest thing Rynn ever had to family.

After finding a comfortable spot Rynn began reading through the books that Gilliand gave him. Hours past as Rynn poured over the tomes of history, diplomacy, tactics, and magical theories; suddenly he smelled smoke and the ring of swords sang clear in the air, fire appeared all around him, and a woman screamed.

“Rynn! Rynn! Wake up lad!” yelled Gilliand.

Rynn snapped awake, sweat covering his face breathing heavy he looked around frantically.

“Same dream, lad? Are you ever going to tell me what you see?” Gilliand’s normally gruff voice softened as the words left his mouth.

Rynn set the books down, started to rise and smiled nervously, “Gilliand, its nothing. You must have the fire going to strong. I should be going anyway.”

He slipped past Gilliand and headed for the entrance to the store.

“You take care, lad” called out Gilliand.

The next day Rynn went to meet Gilliand in the warehouse district to help him transport some new stock. Gilliand was there to greet him with a smile and small pouch.

“For you lad, thanks for helping.”

Rynn looked in the pouch and saw the glint of gold inside; he grinned, “Sorry Gilliand, I can’t take that. Your money is no good to me.” Rynn stated

“By Ioun, take the damned pouch” yelled Gilliand.

Rynn raised his hands stepping away from the pouch as if it were poison, “Sorry, Gilliand.”

The pair made their way through the warehouse district winding through people; Rynn helped his friend through doing his best to provide a clear path for the old man. Once they had made it to the warehouse Gilliand asked Rynn to stay outside for a moment. Rynn nodded and leaned against the wall watching the crowds move along the streets like water. After a few moments Gilliand returned waving Rynn over to him where a box was resting. Rynn looked down at the box rather incredulously.

“One box? Really?”, from Rynn

“I’m old boy! What do you want?”, exclaimed Gilliand

Rynn shrugged and lifted the box, it was a bit heavier than he expected and immediately understood why Gilliand needed help; Rynn used his arms, but only to hide the use of his other ability. Before long they were back in the throngs of people. Maneuvering was a bit more difficult with the box, but they were managing. As Rynn was working his way down the street he “felt” the familiar movements of Grimson and turned his head in that direction to get a look. As he looked towards Grimson in the distance a woman screamed, Rynn stopped looking around. When he spun towards the scream he caught a glimpse of something near Gilliand and halted. Gilliand had stopped and was grabbing at his side; pulling his hand away Rynn saw the sticky red all over his palm. As Rynn dropped the box to check on Gilliand, the old man fell to the ground dying.

“Gilliand, wha…” Rynn started, but was interrupted with…

“MURDERER! THE BOY KILLED THE OLD MAN!” came from the crowd around the pair.

Rynn looked up and around in shock, both at Gilliand and at the accusation. He “felt” Grimson moving towards him, and fear struck down at him. He looked down at his clothes, now covered with Gilliand’s blood. He knew no one would believe him. He slide back and turned to grab the box, but it was gone. Dismissing the box he began running through the crowd. Before long he found himself back in his alley still covered in Gilliand’s blood and began crying. After calming himself and gathering his wits, he realized he couldn’t stay in Brightcliff. Gilliand was the only friend he really had and there was little doubt that Grimson was eager to put him on the gallows.

Rynn sat in the alley for hours coming to grips with what happened, trying to figure out who would kill the old man and why. Finally he decided that staying here wouldn’t give him a chance to figure it all out. By now it was well past dusk, Rynn worked his way through the back streets and alleys picking up some new clothes along the way. When he had all he needed he stopped at his favorite shop one last time.

“Thank you, old man. I’ll miss you. And I’ll figure out who did this.”

No eggs please

As Darkness falls, over the snow filled forest, the temperature plunges ever colder. My team and I are trying to get some much needed rest. Simon sits on the opposite side of the fire from me reading Scarlet’s journal. I don’t know what she sees in him. I wonder why those guards had him, I guess we will never know. He tried to steal Oblitus to give to a crime boss, that doesn’t sound like someone who should be trusted to me.

As I slowly drift off into sleep, I remember the words of Sir Darver. He gave me my last quest and that was to find “someone to Protect, someone to save”. I took my eyes off the quest at hand, I knew better then this. Sir Darver had thought me this lesson before. How could I let this happen.

Even in sleep I find no solace. I go back to the day when I first learned this message. It was a quiet spring morning, as I returned from gathering water for the day. I see Darver standing by the tent with a big grin on his face. “Catch!” he says, as he throws something at me, I catch what happened to be an egg. “This isn’t enough for the both of us to eat.” I said. He replied “No lad that is not for you to eat, You need to watch after that egg and protect it as if it where a small child.”

Really, I thought to myself, it is only an egg. Squires don’t question the masters words though. For two weeks I watched over that egg day and night. At first I had it on me at all times, then I started to let it drift out of my mind. One morning shortly after getting up, I heard a shriek coming from the edge of the woods. I ran to see what the noise was. As I approached, Darver was running up next to me, we found a woman on a horse. The horse had thrown a shoe and reared up. She feel off and hurt her leg. I went over to help her up and we told her we would help her on to her destination. I picked her up and carried her while Darver lead the horse back to our camp. As soon as we got back to camp I set her down and got her a drink of water. I noticed that Darver had started to make breakfast and it smelled amazing. Then I thought, where was my egg. Darver had cooked it up and was offering it to the woman to eat. Later he scolded me saying " I told you to watch it and protect it. It was great that you went off to help another, but you should have kept your eyes on it. You should have brought it with you."

I woke up in a cold sweat. I was imagining the Drow doing some terrible things to Scarlet. Why did I take my eyes off the goal. I can’t let her die, She does not deserve death. If I fail I will not become a knight is what part of me says, if I fail a Scarlet dies and her blood is on my hands.

I will not fail I will save Scarlet. With the help of the rest we will save her. I will even use the help of Simon, it seems he has good intentions for once. We must save Scarlet. May Avondra give us luck and Bahamut give us the strength to serve Justice.

Journal of Richard Whitemane The beginning

The Beginning

With my decision to become an adventurer and the danger from the series of fights with the jackalweres. I have decided that I would like to keep a journal of my life so that one day should anything unfortunate happen to me people can know a little about the journey my life is taking. I figure I might as well start at the beginning.

My story begins on a boat. My earliest memories where the rocking of the ship and the sounds of the water. I spent fourteen years on the ship growing up. Overall this was a happy time for me. I spent my time practicing with the dagger and hand crossbow and a lot of time in the galley with learning to cook. That may seem silly to you but think about how little there is to do on a ship for a boy that isn’t part of the crew, it was fun also.

My father Martin Whitemane, wanting to sever all ties with Drow society for us, gave me a human name and took one for himself.- I once asked if we had any relatives and was told that we did not. The question now is what else haven’t I been told? I recently found out that I have a brother named Iz’bryn that must look very similar to me since I have been mistaken for him twice. Thinking about what he always told me he was defiantly wired wrong. He always said that anyone raised in Drow society would come out unredeemed evil, though a lot of what he has taught me seems to be wrong since I have been told that my brother is on a path of redemption to be a good person. The other lesson that he taught me was to always try to save someone, never let evil happen without trying to stop it.

I was 14 when the worst day of my life happened. The ship came upon a wrecked ship on the coast of Ostwick, now when I reflect I wonder why we were even sailing along the cost of Ostwick. The captain took most of the crew to the shore in boats to investigate and look for survivors, I was left on the ship. To my horror the wrecked ship was a Drow ambush that wiped out almost all of the crew including my father. The first mate was one of the few to return and he presented me with my fathers long knives and informed me of his death. The remaining crew then sailed the ship to the Port of Atria where I left the ship. My only request was to ask the first mate to bring word to me if he could find the name of the Drow house that set the ambush up so that one day I could avenge the death of my father.

Telrick West Swamp


By Verse and Phrase

It was the end of Eilliandor’s first week at Brightcliff University. He was sitting in the long dinning hall with about 200 other students, idly playing with his bowl of shepherds pie. His fellow students had claimed that this was the best meal of the week, and although it did contain potatoes he wasn’t quite convinced. His mind wandered back to the first time he had potatoes.

He was 12 and the house had recently taken on a couple new servants, including a half-elf girl by the name of Amelia. Eilliandor was captivated by her beauty. She had shoulder length, light-brown hair that glistened like winter wheat in the sun, and amber eyes that sparkled with some inner joy. Eilliandor remembered that she always smelled like cinnamon. She was, to him, perfection. It was Amelia that introduced Eilliandor to potatoes, she would make them for the staff, seasoned with a variety of herbs, spices and cheeses, depending on her mood. He always found the dishes intoxicating.

It was clear to his mother that Eilliandor was taken with the servant and did her best to reinforce the ideals of status, class and race, but there was a defiance in him unlike any other Eladrin he knew. His mother took to making sure that their paths rarely crossed, so Eilliandor and Amelia starting leaving notes for each other in a secret place in the house. This went on for a good three months. Matron Vearyll finally put an end to it.

Early on that fateful morning, Eilliandor crept down to the kitchens with his letter in hand, eager to leave it in their special hiding place and pick up her last note. As he entered the kitchen Amelia was there, sitting at the table with her hands crossed in her lap. He could see that she was troubled. He smiled and approached. “Here I wrote this for you.” Eilliandor held out his letter to her. Amelia frowned. She stood up and closed her hands over Eilliandor’s and the letter, crumpling it.

“We cannot do this anymore. I have been wrong to lead you astray as I have. My love for you was never true and I was just using you.” Tears started to fall from her eyes as Eilliandor stood there stunned. “To make amends to your family I am leaving. This is good bye Dori.” Dori…. she always called me that, it always sounded filled with happiness when she said it. She bent over slightly and kissed me on my forehead, turned and left.

Eilliandor stood there until the first group of staff entered the kitchen, almost an hour later. Tears had fallen silently during that time. The older elvin woman that ran the kitchen saw him and took pitty on him. Without saying a word she walked over and lead him to one of the quiet, unused rooms, sat him down and brought him some milk. “Here you go son,” she said calmly as she handed Eilliandor the cup, “you must have dropped this.” It was his letter, crumpled but smoothed out.

It seemed forever ago as Eilliandor sat in the long hall pondering his shepherds pie. His right hand moved to his vest pocket and he felt the rough paper of an envelope and trapped within a lost poem of youth and love.

You are an angel from above,
You are the one whom I love,
I hope that we never will part,
You’ll always have a place in my heart.
And that place is first, not last.

The days fly by so fast.
There’s not a moment I don’t think about you
I know I will cry if we are ever through
So please don’t leave me,
My love, please don’t deceive me.


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