Reflective thoughts - A Journal of a Wayward Elf

[dergon darkhelm]

yeah, that's nice.

[viigas]

((Very nice stuff))

+1 great read.. give such a insight of the whole personal sphere... keep it up !

[Blindhamsterman]

Beliefs - religion, purpose, philosophy... all these words are synonymous with belief... but so are words such as certainty or reliance to name but a few... even assumption.

An almost amusing word if one takes the time to consider it, a word that can have so many different and connotations.

We live in a world where religion is key, in life most of the inhabitants of Faerun strive to appease various deities when performing even simple actions, some take it to extremes; such as the sharran assassins that caused so much trouble for my friends and this region in recent times... or on the other extreme many monks of ILmater whom subjugate themselves to pain and suffering apparently in the service of their deity also.

Religion is in many cases a defining factor for the many varied peoples of Faerun, this is especially true with those especially devoted souls, the moonmaiden Persephone for instance seems to epitomise what it means to be a follower of Selune, the same can be said for Daertho as a priest of Corellon in my eyes, though I'm sure he'd not have agreed... wise, strong, caring and thoughtful, he tried to guide those about him on the correct path.

More than just religion is attributed to beliefs however, that much is clear from the varying meanings of the word! A certainty of purpose defines each and every one of us. When anyone sees Alyra 'Ironbeard' the Paladin on Lathander... It is quickly clear that she exemplifies what it is to be a knight in service to a realm or state, a guardian of the varied peoples under her ward. It's true that her religion likely makes such a role even more obvious, but all the same, her life choices have made her who she is, and she lives by a clear code and moral purpose.

For many, just believing in anything is all that is important, the thought that one day we will die, often forces even those generally less inclined toward religion to secretly hope they're proven wrong. To many the concept of a strict code laid out by their respective diety is important, they rely on it... it's not the same as making one’s own path and trusting you've done right, but it's certainly still belief.

I consider my allies, some of them do not have strong beliefs, others do. Sywyn for example believes so very strongly in the old ways of the people, he is so very mistrusting of non-elves, especially humans. I know he has had more than his share of pain caused by them. But still I believe it has darkened his soul in a manner he does not even realise. He is a good elf, his desire to protect and aid the people is admirable and in fact much the same as my own. But the way we go about it is quite different. Where in the past we've done things I can do naught but feel bitterness and sadness for now, he still feels it was a necessary evil to commit. We have similar hopes and desires but a decidedly different approach to how to get there... I for one would see the various 'goodly' races put aside differences and strive for a better, brighter future. My own beliefs are heavily influenced by the time I spent studying the code and hopes that Myth Drannor was built upon - a code Berendil told me of so long ago.

Of the others I admit I know less... Laniara's views are much the same as Sywyn's and the beliefs I myself once held, she believes the only race worth anything are elves, that we are better than all those around us, and that ensuring our own survival and prosperity at the expense of others is acceptable. I don't entirely disagree... but I feel there is a better way.

Maeredhel I think doesn't even know what he believes, he's been through so much that now I suspect he can know little more than confusion, still since his rebirth at the will of Corellon he seems to be becoming better, to what end I do not know, but perhaps I can guide him on a similar path to my own.

I admit to knowing very little of either Aglaril or Ethans beliefs, but I think in Aglarils case at least, he's likely somewhere between my own and that of Sywyn and Laniara. I could be wrong, mayhap he is entirely different. But like with Maer, I hope to set him on a similar path to the one Berendil once set me on.

So what then of the fallen bladesinger? His journal is fascinating, filled with concepts I'd already considered, but with so many new ways of looking at things... the code he followed, the way of life he strove to lead, in many ways I suppose there are similarities with the concepts that push someone such as Alyra forward. He followed a code of conduct that I've known for a century or more now, he allowed them to guide him it seems... so what went wrong?

What would cause someone like that to potentially fall so low that he would become a traitor? It's a question I find myself disturbed by... not because I could not answer it, but instead because I see all too clearly what would cause even the best of us to stray from the right path, to err and find themselves walking a new route, one they cannot turn back from.

All the same, I hope and pray that my own thoughts on the matter are wrong, that in fact he was as good an elf as his journal would seem to imply, I wish him to be a Hero in the same manner as my grandmother is. One truly deserving of the title "El'Tael".

Perhaps in a manner, the path this elf took is a mirror of my own, where I almost turned down those darker paths myself in the not so very distant past... mayhap he instead realised his errors too late? Where I was reinvigorated with a desire to do my duty; to protect my people... and more to find a higher purpose. Perhaps he instead truly fell. Had I seen his body I could easily have confirmed such a thing of course, such a one would have marked his tattoo, marking himself out as a failure. Time will tell I suppose, soon enough I'll learn the truth about him for good or ill. Perhaps I'll even learn more of myself in the process.

[Blindhamsterman]

The Final Lessons: Part 1

The Elf closes his eyes and takes a long slow breath, his senses are not like many of the people, likely no better than most humans. He knows this, and in this moment it does not matter, his focus is inward…

She looks at him from her perch in a branch, subconsciously rubbing the back of her knee, thoughts whirl through her head a moment before she re-focuses on the Male elf standing in the small clearing below her, she frowns a little to herself, her keen eyes picking out the multitude of scars and old wounds that cover his muscled – and bare pale skin.

“It’s a wonder any warrior can have so many scars and still be standing… let alone throwing himself in the way of enemies that are sure to do it to him again… Courageous or foolish?” She speaks softly to herself, eyes still on him below…

He takes a long deep breath, calming himself, his mind racing through the memories of his training years ago, of the time he’d spent practicing alone, honing those skills he’d learnt… and more recently to meeting a master, and realising he’d come so close by himself. He clenches his fists by his side, and then unclenches them, loosening his body.

The musical voice of the Bladesinger calls down to him, her tone is hard to read…

“Remember, you must seek a balance in mind and body, the art of the Bladesong is an art, you must think… but not overthink, be focused but not focus too much, you must move with precision and speed, but not rush. You should be as the people. Follow your heart Elenaril” She leans forward in the branch, balancing perfectly there despite not using her hands to keep her in place…

He draws Talvael from the silver scabbard at his side; the adamantine blade makes a hissing sound as it is pulled free, the silver-black metal glints in the moonlight, Elven words sparkle along the blade as if a thousand tiny diamonds capture the light. In a blur of movement the blade whips from his side to before his closed eyes.

“Corellon, I and this blade are one, we serve you and the people, now and forever” he whispers softly to himself.

The blade lowers slowly, almost at a glacial speed to his side once more, the muscles in his body tense and intense as he prepares himself…

“You must practice this on the robe, I’ve watched you perform the routine on solid ground enough times to know that you remember the movements and stances, I want to see that you can do it while also having to keep your footing as well.” She nods and indicates with her head…

Eyes blink open and he looks up to the ropes he’d previously set up, running a hand through his raven-dark hair he gives a nod of ascent and darts for the tree closest to him at the last minute leaping toward the tree, he uses the momentum to kick off from it, springing into a somersault and landing with cat-like grace on the tightrope.

He allows himself a small satisfied smile as he lands and steps forward with practiced and measured steps, glancing down a moment a short but brief sense of vertigo threatens to overcome him as he takes in the sight of rushing water many feet below him, the feeling passes almost as swiftly as it had come and he widens his stance on the rope. Talvael held down and behind him, the other arm bent before him, hand palm side facing before his face.

With a sudden movement he springs forward, the rope wobbles dramatically as his feet leave it, he elegantly pirouettes through the air his blade flashing in the moonlight, other arm perfectly positioned to ensure a precise landing. He comes down almost at a run along the rope, Talvael flashes to his side then up seemingly deflecting incoming blows as he with a practiced grace along the long rope, feet seemingly working of their own accord to compensate for the vibrations caused from his landing…

He ducks under an attack coming from the side, blade flashing up to deflect it before gracefully pirouetting around the next imagined blade it’s angle perfectly placed to riposte; had there been a true enemy. His footwork is precise and measured as he executes these manoeuvres maintaining near-perfect balance all the while.

He darts forward once more closing on the other end of the long rope now. Once more he leaps into a somersault, coming down almost within touching distance of the other trunk, spinning about at the last moment to deflect the third and final imagined blow with two swift flicks of the blade and allowing his momentum to spin him back round to the direction he had been facing.

She watches from her perch, interest in her eyes, pursing her lips at the less precise vaults but nodding approval at his controlled yet still graceful movements. Taking her eyes from him a moment she glances at the clearing where three of the Elven hunters have returned and also watch on, an impressed expression painted across most. She ponders quietly to herself

“So you can move well enough while on the rope, but what of the point when you have to cast a spell under such conditions?” A slight smile crosses her face.

“Cast Lynx, show me what you can do!” She shouts…

He hears the words and the beginning of her spell and reacts instantly, shouting out the words of a spell “Faer Theur!”

His protective magic in place moments before a series of arcane missiles smash into them, even with the spell in place his balance is threatened for a moment, his momentum slowed as he focuses on balance above all else.

His attention elsewhere he misses the next spell being cast, an immense gust of wind hammers into him, buffeting him backwards with enough force to knock him into the air. For a moment time seems to slow, he notes that he is spinning and the world seems upside down… "damn" is all he can think… and everything returns to normal he feels the hardness of the rope against his shoulder and instinctively hooks the opposite leg under the rope and uses his momentum to flip back to his feet, all the while holding onto the scaled adamantine blade.

He stands there on the still vibrating rope, eyes looking to where the woman sits, his expression perplexed.

“You wished to kill me?” He asks simply

“No, but it is one thing to know how to perform a complex manoeuvre with imagined foes on the ground… it is another thing again to perform those manoeuvres while on the tight rope as you’ve learned from our lessons. But… It is another thing entirely to do all of that without knowing what is coming and with the very real sense of danger” Her expression is one of thought a moment.

“Remember this Elenaril, you’ve read my grandfather’s journal, and you’ve been taught by masters not so very long ago, you know the price we Bladesingers must be willing to pay, That being said… Do not throw your life away needlessly, for you are no good to the people… if you have been slain.”

He nods his ascent for the second time in such little time. “My goal is to do all that I can for the people, for both our past and our future”

“Indeed, but your lesson is not Over Elenaril, Let me show you why you need to work on your balance” With that she draws her blade and beckons him down to her, a serene expression on her face…

((This short story was heavily influenced by dice rolls in its outcome, there is a second half coming eventually - hope at least a few of you enjoy ))

[thinkpig]

very cool BHM, thanks for sharing!

[NESchampion]

Very nice.

[Blindhamsterman]

Whispers of the Future:

He opens his eyes slowly, the room, his room bathed in moonlight. Rolling out of the soft bed he glances back at the other form lying there, peaceful, her breathing causing the thin sheet to rise and fall slowly, the faint sound of her breathing making him smile slightly.

Rising quietly to his feet he pads toward the open doorway, curtains blowing gently in the slight breeze. The wood of the floorboards creak a little with each step, the soft tinkle of wind chimes can be heard outside, but beyond that, nothing.

Stepping out onto the wooden platform he takes in the sight before him, multiple tiers of tree houses, each one of elegant and clearly elven design is nestled into the ancient trees. They're connected by a multitude of wooden and rope walkways, separated by the occasional larger wooden platform, some with tables and chairs of still living wood and oft-covered by a pastel coloured parasol. Glow globes cast a myriad of soft glows about the place giving it an almost magical appearance.

The town is quiet, seemingly not a soul moves amongst the trees at this hour, unusual that there is not a sign of the occasional elf still awake and walking about, or one of the guards patrolling the outer walkways. He looks up to the night sky and lets out a soft sigh, the moon this night is a crescent moon... though one obscured by clouds.

He starts walking toward the platform situated below where he makes his home; this platform houses the forge he set up so long ago. A sense of unease settles over him as he makes his way down a series of steps. Why had he still seen not a single elf? And why was there no sound of voices? Approaching the forge he pauses once more, a frown creasing his pale face.

"Not where I left you" he says quietly to himself.

His smithing hammer lies on the floor and a silver rapier - half finished lies beside it. As he steps in, a smell assaults his nose; blood. At almost the same moment he hears the scream, a shrill wail of disbelief that cuts through the near silence.

He spins about, hand flashing down to Talvael at his side... just in time to see the black skin, red eyes and flash of long white hair... just in time to feel the cold, hard steel slide into his belly and exit his back with force...


((minor change of pace from the current timelines stuff - but kind of an idea id been toying with for some time - the story that i'd like to have happen where he eventually dies - assuming he doesn't get murdered while I still play him. Will probably add to this over time))

[MaskedIllusion]

Very interesting and a really good read. Hope there is more to come.

[viigas]

+1

[Ithildur]

The Final Lessons: Part 1

Nicely done BHM. And Viigas too, for the NPC mentor's lines.

Stuff like this is why bladesingers are cool; almost makes me want to reconsider playing one again.

[Blindhamsterman]

Questions and Homecoming


*Elenaril returns to the Lady's College for the first time in many moons. He nods to the few students he recognizes and offers a greeting to each of the masters.

Some comment on his now shorter hair, even paler complexion and rather worn appearance - rings around his eyes as he passes through the library.

The elf makes his way to the dorm room he had once kept and stand before it. *

"Welcome home sir, Lady Alyra has been looking for you"

*He frowns at that, it's been even longer since he last spoke with the Knight Commander of the Knights in Silver. His thoughts wander to the posters he has seen since stepping off the boat from Waterdeep.*

"Maeredhel... what is going on..."

*Shaking his head he begins packing the few possessions within the room, he forlornly eyes the bookshelves that had once held a number of books, some of them quite rare and now all gone, lost somewhere deep in the Underdark. The items barely fill a backpack but they amount to the vast majority of his worldly belongings after the misadventures that saw friends perish and him nearly fall beside them*

"And I return home to find that those I helped in the south never made it home and the few that remained here have all disappeared... Corellon give me strength, was it all for nothing? Did we really go through so much hardship for so little gain?" *He sighs* "Ah but the life of an El'Tael is not supposed to be an easy one... There is always much to be done and I fear my brother is in need of aid...

*He checks his belongings and pulls his robes on over the finely wrought silvery shirt he wears, holding the oak leaf pendant at his neck he grimly vows to find out whats going on*

"Serapheena, I'll not be needing my dorm anymore, it has been a pleasure to be a student here" *With a small bow and the best smile he can manage he turns away*

*Giving the College one last look, he steps out over the bridge and doesn't look back*