Rising Up - Scion of Shaelara

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Ithildur
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Re: Rising Up - Scion of Shaelara

Post by Ithildur »

((A recent entry in Aglaril's journal... instead of the usual crisp Espruar penmanship, the writing is rather careless and sloppy...))



My mind seems to be in the doldrums of late... a kind of fog, a lackadaisical malaise that I've not felt in years.

Is it the Stone?

I've been carrying the cursed thing for far too long, though I am glad for one singular benefit it affords me. The irony would be supreme if it has kept me alive thus far, keeping me out of Ontak's reach by virtue of it's power to block scrying magics. But if it is starting to effect my mind...

Is it something about these Isles?

The poor inhabitants of these isles view Faer - the fair Art - with a most unfortunate degree of fear and superstition; not surprising perhaps given their disinterest in things such as books and libraries. Add to this the unique Power that hold sway over these isles... and all the other ways that the Moonshaes are simply different from the rest of the Realms I have seen - differences evident even among the Elves of these isles - and one cannot help but wonder,

Does the Weave itself function differently in these Isles somehow? The aversion to the Arts Arcana here, can it be that it somehow hinders it's practitioners?

Several times of late I found myself on the cusp of intoning arcane syllables, initiating the intricate finger dance that would begin a spell... only to find that my mind would go blank for a moment - the spell unfinished, uncast - and a strange reluctance to attempt another casting lingering with me.

Not only this, I find myself oddly hesitant to undertake any significant action, initiative, concerning the troubles that plague the isles. How long has it been since I've returned? Time surely grows short, and yet... I've done so very little with all the means at my disposal.

I'd imagine some of the elders back home (mostly those who have not lifted a blade in battle in centuries...) would say that a well crafted undertaking takes patience and time, but that is not the same as inactivity, nor are we dealing with crafting a pretty bauble leisurely over a century's adoe.

Once more I clearly see in my mind's eye the ship sailing away out of reach, laden with captives, those who might have been rescued. I can see the face of the young woman within the barred cage as well - the look of despair. These images haunts me each night, but so too this fog... I can see, visualize many things that need to be done, but it fades... replaced by a nearly overwhelming sense of apathy, reluctance, and doubt. I find myself battling thoughts, voices within, as I lie here staring upwards at the moon and the stars.

"Why trouble yourself with all this? Stay among the Lewyrr as your duty demands... the rest of the isles can fend for themselves,"
"What is fated to happen is inevitable. Do what little you can here and there certainly, but know that in the end, your path is set before you. Your actions will ultimately make little difference in the outcome."
"Swing that little sword of yours 'hero', and stay busy keeping your playmates alive. Really, you should be grateful that you haven't botched that up yet."



I am weary this day... and the voices are persistent indeed.
Formerly: Aglaril Shaelara, Faerun's unlikeliest Bladesinger
Current main: Ky - something

It’s not the critic who counts...The credit belongs to the man who actually is in the arena, who strives violently, who errs and comes up short again and again...who if he wins, knows the triumph of high achievement, but who if he fails, fails while daring greatly.-T. Roosevelt
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