Rivermoot Saga

[Mikayla]

The Journal.

This is my first journal entry. I have been learning to read from Captain Diane and Vaya and now I can write my first journal entry. I am in Rivermoot guarding the village and the bridge. From orcs. Vaya is in school in Silverymoon and we have a room there of our own with our own fireplace and our own bed and our own tables and chairs and chests. It is very nice but I have only slept there two times because I am in Rivermoot all the time now waiting for the orcs.

The Bane worshippers have gone. Barid led them to someplace beyond the village of kwarevar. I do not know where exactly. I saw Barid the night before they left. The orcs tried to burn down the bridge but we grabbed buckets and fought the fire and saved the bridge. Then Barid showed up while I was drinking ale. He looked nervous and had his weapon in hand but I told him I was not in Rivermoot for him and he seemed to relax. Then he went away.

Karl is my friend again. He called me a coward once and said mean things to me and he was unfair but then Captain Diane talked with him and he said he was sorry. I was glad he did. I did not like being mad at Karl. So now we are friends again. And he guards Rivermoot with us.

I saw the lich. It did not look like much. Just a skull. But it was floating. And there were lots of cultists in the crypt. We went into the crypt because there was darkness and lightening coming out of it. So we went in. And then we found all these people in black robes and we fought them and killed them. I never killed a human before. I was there when that other priestess got killed in the ruins but I did not kill her. But in the crypts I killed many of them. I thought it would feel different than killing orcs or gnolls but it did not feel any different at all. And then we found the lich. It was just a skull floating in the middle of some yellow bands of light. And then it did something to my head and I was very afraid and I could not move and Rathalan was yelling at me and pulling on my arm and everyone else was yelling too but I could not move and then I got my head back and I could move so I ran away with the rest of them. I do not want to see the lich again. Unless I can crush it. Then I would go back.

And I fought a dwarf the other day. He was crossing the bridge and said he was the best axe-man around. But I thought Karl was probably better and I thought I might even be better so I sort of laughed. He thought I was calling him a liar which I was not doing. Not yet. But then we got to arguing and then we fought and I nearly killed him. Vaya saved him though. And then I felt stupid for fighting amongst my own while the orcs are getting ready to come down on us. I have to learn to control my temper. I have to think before I fight like that or maybe it will cause us more problems.

Vaya is good though. He makes me happy. He makes a lot of other people unhappy I think because they do not understand him or because they do not get along. But I get along with him very well. And we laugh and we make love and we eat and we have fun together. But sometimes it is hard when Vaya makes other people I like mad. Vaya made Captain Lucas mad one day and then Lucas made Vaya mad and I had to get Lucas to say he was sorry to Vaya which he did and then we are able to go on but it was a pain in the ass.

That is everything for now. I have to get back to my guard post. We never know when the orcs might come so we need to keep watch even if it is more boring than cleaning the Jarls drinking horns. I will write more later.

Vellya Alfarsdottir

[mr duncan]

Awww.. lil sweetie is learning to write. As always, I love your stories.


J

[Mikayla]

A letter home ...

Dear Mother,

This is the first letter I am writing with my own hand. I am learning to read and write from Captain Diane and my friend Vaya. Who is an elf.

I am a knight now. Please do not be mad at me. I know you think knights are bad just like everyone at home thinks they are bad. I know at home we call them worms in iron cocoons but I have learned not all knights are bad. Here knights protect people. I have met really good knights. Like Captain Diane. Captain Diane is the leader of the Order of the Red Falcon here. And she is a knight. She made me a knight too. She tapped me on the shoulders and I gave her an oath and then I was a knight. And Priest-Captain Lucas is a good man too though I am not sure if he is really a knight. He is a battle-priest of the Red Knight who is a warrior goddess we all pray to but I do not know if that means that Lucas is a knight or just a priest or both. It is kind of confusing. They gave me a sword and a helmet and some other things. And I have heavy armor now like knights do. Heavier armor than anyone back home. And my sword is beautiful like the house-carl swords. And we do not hide behind stone walls like cowards. We go after orcs and gnolls and goblins. Right now we are guarding a small village called Rivermoot from orcs who want to destroy it because it is close to where the orcs live. I hate orcs. They are mean and they smell bad and they kill people. So we kill them.

I met a boy. His name is Vaya. He is not really a boy though he is a man. He is over one-hundred years old but he is an elf so it is not like he looks one-hundred years old or acts like one-hundred years old. He looks more like my age. And he is very smart and different and beautiful like you said my father was only Vaya has golden hair not black hair. Vaya makes the most beautiful music you have ever heard. He is studying to cast spells. I know at home witchcraft is for women but here on the mainland lots of men do witchcraft. They wear womens robes though. It is not as strange as it sounds. Or maybe it is but everyone here thinks it is normal. The woman who teaches the wizards says they wear womens robes so they can run away faster but I do not think she is telling me the whole truth. Vaya says I am smart even though I cannot really write and Sevaera says that too. Vaya is very protective of me which I think is funny because I think I could beat him up with one hand tied behind my back. But he is very smart and sneaky. And clever with people.

Vaya has a brother who is not really his brother but is his best friend. Ama’asha. Ama’asha is an elf. He is an archer and he is studying to be a witch too and I like him but I do not think he really likes me. I think he is kind of mad at me because Vaya loves me. But I am not really sure. Elves are hard to figure out. They are not just sneaky in the forest they are sneaky with their feelings.

Sevaera is another friend of mine. She is half-elf like me but she has white hair and red-eyes and she is very different looking than me and she is so beautiful. I have never seen a girl like her before. But she is unhappy a lot and scowls at most people though not at me very much. I do not know why. She does not get along much with Vaya which is too bad but the other day they both agreed about something but I do not know what. This made Vaya kind of mad because he does not want to agree with Sevaera.

I have another friend named Hyacinthe. She is an elf too. And she is an archer. We go hunting with her and we kill lots of gnolls and orcs. She is very brave and quiet. Sometimes she shoot her arrows so well I do not have to kill a single gnoll.

There is an elf called Tathar here too. And he is funny. He is brave but he does not fight that good. He said he wanted to be a knight so I went to go fight with him against some kobolds. Tathar killed two of them with his sword then got wounded. After the fight he tried to twirl his sword around like he was really good but instead he dropped it and nearly cut off his own toes. I like him though.

There are other good people here too. There is a warrior named Lemuel who is a lot like the men back home. He is blond and big and strong and good and brave and he fights against the orcs and the walking dead with us. And there is a priest of some god called Helm and his name is Rathalan. He talks a lot and he does not say much but he is brave in battle and fights well. And when the lich did something to my head and made me scared it was Rathalan who came to save me. So I do not mind that he talks funny.

There are bad people here too. There was a man named Barid who worshipped a god called Bane that everyone hates. And so they drove him away with all his people. And there is an elf named Gam who the other elves do not like. They call him a not-person which is the same thing they call humans but it is worse when they call an elf that. And then there are all sorts of sellswords and adventurers some of whom are good and some just want gold and some I do not really know.

Oh and this is important. I live at this school for witches now. Do not worry. They are all good witches and I am not a witch but I live there because Vaya does. And the school is so nice. It is not like the witch huts back home which are all small and dirty and full of bones and mice and rats and stuff. This is a big beautiful tower and castle. And we have our own room with our own bed and our own fireplace. Our own fireplace! Our own bed! Our room is nicer than the Jarls room. Truly. And there are people who bring us food and chop our wood. I feel like a princess in a fairy-tale mother. Only I have to fight a lot and kill a lot of orcs. But that is alright.

I will write more now mother now that I can write. I will send you letters whenever I can. I love you and I miss you and if I make some gold I will send you some. I hope the Jarl is taking good care of you. Say hello to my uncle.

Love,

Vellya

[Arkan Bladesinger]

I must say I have loved your stories before, Mik, but seeing this as you´re putting this perfectly as it would´ve come from Vellya´s pen makes me give you applauds I have sadly neglected to give before.

So, bravo!

Truly enjoyed.

[DarkHin]

Cool letter Mik. The grammatical mistakes make it very convincing.

[Mikayla]

Report of Knight-Corporal Vellya to Battle-Priest Hylan, Knight-Captain Diane and Priest-Captain Lucas

While sitting near the bridge near High Hold with Vaya and Laniara who is an elf I saw a man walk by who had been in our temple earlier that talked to Battle Priest Hylan. Vaya said the man was a worshipper of Bane and that he was Barids squire. I did not know this. Then the man came back and talked to us and asked what we were talking about and I told him we were talking about him and Barid and Bane. And he wanted to know how we knew he worshipped Bane but I only knew because Vaya told me and Vaya probably knows because he is very sneaky. And then Vaya got up and left and when he came back he was with a High Hold sergeant and a small mob of sellswords and adventurers. And the sergeant told the Bane-worshipper to surrender and I drew my sword and moved behind the man so he could not get away. And the man Kert Davis stood infront of the Bane worshipper so he was surrounded by us. Then he surrender.

So the sergeant took him into High Hold and I followed because I had taken the mans weapons but the sergeant did not want the mans weapons. The sergeant started telling the man how it was going to be and that he could not just walk around here and suddenly I thought the sergeant was going to let him go so I stood there but then the sergeant told me to go because I was no longer needed and then I really knew he was going to let the man go so I said really loud, that I was going to report the arrest and that Battle-Priest Hylan would probably want to talk to the man if he was still under arrest in 10 minutes when I got back. And then after hearing that the sergeant seemed to think that letting the man go was not a good idea. So then the sergeant chained the man to a tree which I think was a bad idea because I think the man got away but I think that is what the sergeant really wanted. And then Vaya told the man that he should not worship Bane but the man did not really listen.

I think the sergeant wanted to make us think he arrested the man but not really arrest the man because he is scared or lazy or dumb. So I kept the mans weapons and then sold them. And now I am making this report because I think the man has escaped from being chained to the tree. He is Barids squire and a follower of Bane and I think he is supposed to not escape but be arrested for worshipping a bad god. But I think the sergeant made sure the man escaped. I think.

Truly,
Knight-Corporal Vellya Alfarsdottir

[danielmn]

lulz, your PC sound like a high school cheerleader...totally, like, yeah.

Elves from the Ilses are funnay.

P.S. Enjoying.

[Mikayla]

She is not actually an elf, but a half-elf from Ruathym. And she "sounds" like that because she is 17 years old and barely literate ... which, come to think of it, would invoke the whole cheerleader thing, so, um, totally, like, yeah!

[Mikayla]

Like she had for many days, Vellya stood guard at the Rivermoot bridge, watching the rocky hills to the north for any sign of orcs. She had been at this for a couple of months, and the monotony was excruciating. So much for the glorious life of a warrior.

Vaya was across the river, sitting amidst the reeds by the Argent Legion’s stone tower. Vellya had her back turned to him, but she knew he was there, watching her. He had been lurking about, spying on her, for nearly a month now. He did not approach her and he did not talk to her. He just watched. A few days ago, Rig Sapplefire, a hin-warrior, had told Vellya that Vaya was behind a rock near the bridge. A small crowd had been lingering around Vellya in the late afternoon, watching the sun set and drinking ales. Vellya had walked over to where Rig pointed and sure enough, there was Vaya, lurking behind the rock, hiding in the shadows like a thief. How long had he been there? She did not know. And she was beginning not to care. “Blessings love.” He had said quietly. Vellya said nothing in return, she just shook her head in disbelief and went back to where she had been posted. If he wanted to talk to her, he knew where she was. She did not know what she had done wrong, but obviously, something was wrong if her lover would not even approach her.

Days had passed since then and Vaya had done nothing but lurk about and spy on her. No word, no approach, nothing. So, she was not surprised when, a few hours into her guard shift, she spied him sitting across the river amidst the reeds. Gam was lounging about on the grass near the bridge, talking endlessly about some fool notion or another. Today he was trying to assert he was the grand high king of some emerald realm, with hundreds of soldiers at his bidding in a castle far away. Vellya expressed her disbelief, but it was pointless with Gam; the man just liked to talk. It did not matter if what he said was true, or not, or whether anyone wanted to hear it or not. He just talked and talked and talked. After an hour or so, she dropped all pretense of caring.

“Gam. Shut up. Please.” She had said. Gam was not mad, exactly, but he did seem a little offended. He let his weasel familiar run about and then decided to go hunt some goblins. After he left, Vellya had prayed to Tempus to let the goblins cut Gam’s tongue out. She did not want him dead, she just wanted him silenced.

Then she heard the gate open behind her. Vaya was coming across the bridge now that Vellya was alone. She turned back to face the hills, her face an emotionless mask of stone. She waited. The footsteps stopped just behind her.

“Are you actually daring to approach me?” Vellya challenged. “I had begun to think myself too repulsive.”

“Is that what you think?” Vaya asked evenly, resting his arm upon the bridge’s railing.

Vellya was surprised. It had been so long since Vaya willingly talked to her she had expected him to just keep on walking. “I don't really know what to think.” She admitted. “My lover spies on me for days on end, but will not approach me or talk to me. I do not know what to make of that.”

“I dont either.” He replied softly. “I’ve been thinking of going home.”

She sighed. So he was going to break it off with her. He was just being a coward about it. How could she have misjudged him so? Perhaps he did not mean his real home, perhaps he just meant back to the city. “To Silverymoon?” She asked. “Or Evermeet?”

“Evermeet.”

Of course, she thought. Why did I let myself even hope?

“I’m not . . . who you think I am. At all.”

That was becoming more apparent by the minute. “Who are you then?” Even as she asked the question she realized she was starting not to care.

“The reverse applies too, I’m sure.” He continued. “I’ve been having trouble defining myself. Who I am is up in the air.”

That made Vellya mad. It was one thing for him to be a deceptive coward, but to project that on her? That was not acceptable. “I wear no mask.” She said curtly. “I am as I seem. I am not cunning enough to be otherwise.”

“No, I understand that about you. But your honesty doesn’t mean I didn’t project my own ideas, expectations I guess.”

“Oh.” Vellya replied. So I am learning. “You wanted me to be different than I am?”

“Wanted. That’s a funny word.” He mused, mostly to himself. “I don’t know. I want you to be you. How could I not?”

Now he was talking in circles and Vellya was growing frustrated. “Then what is the problem?”

“I don’t know, I guess it’s me. Maybe I’m not adjusting as well as I wanted or expected to.”

“So you're quitting?” She taunted. “Headed home, tail between your legs?”

“Hyacinthe told me ‘you protect yourself too well.’ I haven’t decided. I didn’t want to speak at all, while so foggy of mind. When I came to look at you before you were always with someone. Smiling or joking. You fit in here, with these folk.”

Yes, I do. Vellya thought to herself. Mostly because I don’t think I’m better than them because of who my parents are. And because I don’t go around arrogantly calling them all ‘roundears.’

“I just . . . you are alone now.” He continued. His voice was smooth, emotionless. “So I came. I don’t really have any solutions or ideas. I just came.”

Vellya was unmoved. Inside she was hardening. Vaya was not being honest with her. “I don't know how to help you Vaya.” She said flatly.

“I’m not asking you to.”

She looked up across the hills, scanning the rocks, but she was not really seeing them. She thought about the months leading up this moment, about what she had done, and not done. What she had felt, and not felt.

“I have loved you the best I could.” She said finally.

“You have, it is me that is flawed.” He answered.

“What is the flaw then?”

“I don’t know.”

That hardly seemed likely. “Truly?” She asked. “All this time in contemplation, and you don't know?”

“I am a foul rotten thing. I spent most of my time avoiding thought, or risking my life alone.”

She frowned. “Why do you think yourself a foul rotten thing?”

“My avoidance of my own problems, a lack of connection to other living things.” He shrugged. “My impatience? I don’t know. There’s a lot of reasons.”

“You are what you do.” Vellya told him. “And though we cannot change the past, what we do in the future is up to us. If you do not like who you are, you simply have to change what you do.”

“I’m not so sure it is all that easy.” He protested.

“It is.” Vellya assured him. “Be the person you want to be Vaya.”

“What if i dont know?”

“That is a quandry.” She admitted with a nod. “I am fortunate I suppose. I've long known what I wanted.”

“What is that?” He asked.

She avoided his question and went on. “But if you don't know what you want, then the first step is for you to figure that out.”

He did not let his question go that easy though. “I want to know what you want, if you’ve known for so long. You are only 17, how long can you have known?”

How patronizing, but she supposed she should answer. “As for me, I knew I wanted to be a warrior, a shield-maid, since I was very little, listening to my uncle's stories about my granddad. I suppose thats not that long to you. But for me, its almost my whole life. Being a warrior was not like I thought it was going to be. But it is still what I want to be. If you don't know what kind of person you want to be, you need to find out. What do you admire? What kind of people do you wish to be like? I wanted to be like my grandfather. That is how I came to be who I am.”

Vaya looked down upon his black-gloved hands on the bridge’s railing. “I don’t know. I’ve never met anyone I wanted to be like.”

Somehow Vellya was not surprised. “What traits in others do you admire?”

“Maybe her majesty.” Vaya wondered aloud.

“Your queen?” Vellya asked enthusiastically. There was something, a hook. "Good." Vellya said aloud. "She sounds like a good start.”

Foot steps on wood and a jaunty whistle announced the approach of another. Velly looked back to see another elf, this one wearing a wrap around his head, standing across the bridge. He was not familiar to her, nor from the look on Vaya’s face, was he familiar to Vaya.

“I should go now.” Vaya said suddenly.

Vellya looked back to Vaya. “To where?” She asked surprised. Vaya shrugged and she realized he did not need to go, he just was not willing to talk with a stranger around. That was fine with her. She led Vaya up the road to Cemetary Bridge.

“Beautiful river.” She said, leaning against the bridge’s rail. “So where are you going to go?”

“Where?” Vaya asked back. “I don’t know.”

“No more school?”

“I have two classes left.”

“And then you are leaving?” Vellya asked, turning from the river to Vaya.

“I don’t know.” He answered. “I can leave then. I didn’t expect to want to.”

Vellya was frustrated, but she was also worried. Vaya was clearly in pain. “What do you want?” She asked with genuine concern.

“Thats complicated. So much so that my next best choice is to be a hermit for a few years of drifting.”

The answer stung Vellya unexpectedly. “So your love for me? Just a novelty that has lost its newness?” She asked sharply.

“Don’t insult me with the same words as my damned sister.” He snapped back.

“Its a question Vaya, and one rightfully asked.” She replied, standing tall on the bridge.

“My intentions were honest, probably the most . . . the only really honest ones I’ve ever had.”

She looked straight at him. “Not long ago you spoke of love for me. Now you speak of being a hermit, or going back to Evermeet. My question is not unfair.”

“If I told you what I wanted, it would hurt you. More than this.” He spoke as if he was protecting her, but it was clear in his voice that he was growing angry.

“Oh?” Vellya asked, eyebrows arching in mock curiosity. “Well, what ever ‘this’ is, it looks like it is going to end our love. So, what have you to lose? Unless you don't want my love anymore.”

“That would make things so very simple. Yet it won’t be happening.”

He was talking in circles again – how could he run off to Evermeet or be a hermit without ending their love? “What won't be happening?” She asked finally.

“Me turning off my affections for you.” He answered plainly. “I tried.”

“So, you love me still, but you need to leave me?” She asked incredulously.

“I am so weak. I made your capt- uh . . . nevermind. I . . . I remember when I told you a while back, that there were just some things I needed to see happen on their own, without my prompting?”

“Yes, I think so.” Vellya’s brow furrowed but her tone softened. It seemed like they were finally getting somewhere.

“If I say it, I’ve ruined it. If I wait, it hurts you.”

“Ah . . .” Now she was beginning to understand. “You want me to do something, but, you want me to do it on my own without your prompting?”

Frustration showed for just an instant on his face. “See, just discussing it taints any hope of anything honest coming from it. I’m sorry.”

Vellya stood silently for a moment, looking the beautiful elf over. This was not how she thought her love would end. Only a few months ago she had felt like a princess in a fairy-tale. Now, she felt old. Jaded. Cynical. Tired. “I love you Vaya.” She said as warmly as she could. “But I am who I am.”

“I know. I can’t have it another way. This is the reason for my hesitance to speak.”

She smiled softly, warmly, but sadly too. “If you cannot find the strength, and courage to be honest with me and to love me back, you are not the man for me.”

Vaya looked away, and nodded. He seemed to want to hear that. To need to hear that. Vellya put a hand on his shoulder. She was not mad, she was just a little disappointed. Though this was the end of her first love, she found she was not nearly as distraught as she might have imagined. She supposed the last month of Vaya’s avoidance had made her face the fact that the love might not last. Indeed, she suddenly realized she knew her love for Vaya was endanger, if not mortally wounded, that day when Rig had told her Vaya was hiding behind the boulder; the day she had seen him, but he had refused to come out and talk. In her heart she knew now that she had been preparing for this moment since then. And she found she was not mad. She was sad, but mostly for Vaya. She put a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

“May the gods watch over you Vaya.” She said kindly. She held her hand there for a moment, then she walked away. She was near the end of the bridge when she heard his voice call after her.

“Vellya.”

She stopped and turned back. “Yes?” She asked, still smiling softly.


“I loved you, so very much that I was willing to spend all the rest of my days after your passing missing you, waiting to see you again in the end.” He said. “It was your choice to go a different way. To spend forever without me.” Anger was in his voice now.

“What do you mean?” Vellya asked, the warm smile dropping from her face.

“Thats why you left me, I never left you.” He asserted.

“I don't understand.” She replied, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“You know what I mean. You can’t be that simple. You have shamans that teach you of life and the afterlife.”

Now he was getting insulting, but Vellya let it pass. She just nodded slowly.

“You chose to spend forever without me.” He continued.

“All my people go to Warrior's Rest Vaya.” She interrupted. “And your people go to Alfarsheim. Arvandor.”

“You worshiped Fenmarel.” He said it like an accusation. “You were on your way to Arvandor.”

“Yes, and I worshipped Tempus and Valkur.” She answered evenly, trying to diffuse his rising emotion. “And never did I think I would go to Alfars..Arvandor.”

“Simple prayers are one thing. You know the difference between commitment and lip service to many gods.”

Vellya was starting to lose patience with his insulting insinuations. “I have always been headed to Warrior's Rest, at least in my mind.” She said firmly. Vaya backed off just a bit and nodded. “But that is the afterlife Vaya.” She said more softly. “We have this life. Here, now.” Could he not see that this life was a gift? A fragile, wonderful gift from the gods? And like everything else under the sun, it would not last forever. You had to enjoy it while you had it, and you had to know that you could never hold on to it forever.

“You don’t understand.” He snapped back, his voice rising. “Listen to me. This life is a tiny SPECK OF NOTHING! One breath, compared to forever. Even an elf life is nothing in this scope, this range. Your REAL life will start when you become immortal but you will remember this life. And if I give myself, like I have, I will ache for you. Forever. While you go elsewhere to fight forever. With your roundears.”

“Why?” Vellya asked quietly. “I would prefer that in this life, when I die, you find another love. I do not want you to be lonely after I pass.”

“Then you don’t love me.” His words were like a smack in the face.

“Of course I do.” She tried to remain calm.

“No, you don’t understand it at all.” He said angrily.

“Its because I love you that I want you to find another love after I am gone.” She explained softly, trying to diffuse his rising emotion.

“When I said I loved you, it was a preparation, a consideration that we might even bond one day.” He shook his head. “No, if you loved me, you will have said something like ‘when I pass, I will wait for you in Arvandor, and we will be reunited, forever.’ THAT is love. You had . . . lust.” Vaya walked past her quickly, angrily, and off the bridge towards the village.

Vellya stood motionless for a moment, watching him go. A part of her was angry that he would put this on her; a part of her was sad that her first love had come to an end. But another part of her wondered what she had seen in him. Was that the real Vaya? Really? He had been so mean at the end. Was he really a mean person? She had seen him be mean to others, but he treated her so well, at least until the last month. Did that mean he was really nice? Or did it mean he really wasn’t? Did it matter?

She found that it did not actually matter. Not any more. Vaya was walking away. She had held on for a month, waiting for him to build up the courage to talk to her. She had listened. And she had loved him the best she could. If that was not good enough, there was nothing else she could do. She was not about to change her goddess for him; he certainly was not offering to change his gods for her. Why should she? If people owned one thing in this life, it was their souls – each person was the keeper of their own soul and to each person fell the responsibility for seeing to their own afterlife. Vellya had not been raised an elf on Evermeet – why would she plan to go to Arvandor? So that the souls of full-blooded elves could look down upon her forever?

No, her people were destined for the battle-halls of Warrior’s Rest. At least the brave ones were. That’s where she belonged, if she could earn her place there. Elf blood or not, she was of the Northmen. She was Ruathym. But couldn’t Vaya see they had this one chance to enjoy each other? This one chance to live together, to come together, to love together? This once chance called life? In mortality, were all the great things of the universe as well as its greatest lesson – nothing lasts forever. It was funny; elves, with their long lives and ancient culture, were so obsessed with eternity that they did not seem to know anything about actually living life.

She shook her head sadly and walked down off the bridge. She had a village to guard, orcs to slay and glory to win. Vaya or no Vaya, her life would go on. Looking up she saw a wisp of clouds in the blue sky above. She smiled as the warm sun beat down upon her face. It was a good day. It was a good life. One way or another, she was going to make the most of it.

[Mikayla]

Journal Entry.

The orc war drags on. I am so sick of standing by the bridge I want to burn it down. Maybe I will. No of course I will not but I would like to because then I could go somewhere else.

I went on a raid against the gnolls with the elf Gam and two dwarves. Gam was supposed to be the leader but he was not really a good leader and one of the dwarves charged before he was supposed to and before I could help him he was down and then Gam was surrounded and he was down. Mordak and I killed the rest of the gnolls and I got to Gam just in time to save him and Mordak got to Darvi just in time to save him and everyone was saved but it was close.

Then a couple nights later I went on another big raid with Gam and Gam was supposed to be leading but again he did not really lead. He walked into a cave before we were all even there and then the fight inside was really confusing and there was this gate that we could not keep open and people got stuck and beat up but we won. Then we went to Quervarr and Gam said he knew how to get to the gnolls cave but he did not really know and we ended up in this box canyon with no way out. Then we wandered around a little bit until I headed north and we found the cave. Then Gam said he knew where it was all along and he had not been lost. I think he really believed what he was saying which means he was not just lying to us he was lying to himself. That made me worried so I decided not to go in with him because he is a good fighter but too dangerous to be around. If he cannot be honest with himself or us how can I trust him? So I was leaving. But then the dwarf priest Mordak who I like asked me to stay. And I knew if I did not stay the dwarves might get killed and I did not want that. So I went in anyway. There were a lot of us and it was a big mess inside.

It made me think a lot about the times I went into that cave with just Hyacinthe and Vaya. The three of us had taken down that cave before. Just the three of us. And we did it because we did it smart using door ways and ambushes and being smart and cunning and each person knowing what to do. But then with the big group and Gam we stumbled through the place. It made me sad. I miss that that little group of Hyacinthe Vaya and me. We fought well together.

Oh Vaya and I are no longer lovers. He said that I left him because I did not worship his gods. But that does not make sense to me. But I guess that does not matter. He really wants an elf girl all a long I think. I saw him with a pretty elf girl recently. Hyacinthe says he has been with lots of elf girls. She is worried about him. I guess I am too but I am a little mad at him and disappointed. I really thought our love would last a long time. Maybe until I died. Which could be soon actually. Not such a long time. But even if not soon I thought our love would last. But it didnt. So now I do not know. I bet the elves are happy though. They did not like us being together since I was not really all elf. That kind of makes me mad too though. But I guess I am glad I am not an elf.

Anyway I am calling all the sell swords together and we are going to go attack the orcs soon I think. I hope to end this war as soon as I can. I never want to see the Rivermoot bridge again. Maybe after the war I will burn it down and they will have to build a new one and then I will not hate it so much. We will see.

Vellya

[Sintaqx]

Very nice, Mik. Hooray for Elf Drama!

[Mikayla]

Vellya leaned back against the ruined stone wall that lay crumbling next to the Rauvin river just outside High Hold’s south gate. Hyacinthe and Farran Doth were also leaning against the wall, the three of them waiting for Lemuel Ogdenstein to return from the keep so they could set out for Silverymoon. The cobble-stone paved cross-road between the gate and the river was as populated as ever. Sentries, residents, merchants, sell-swords and adventurers came and went, some carrying torches in the dimming light of the evening, others lugging heavy packs or even heavier armor. Vellya recognized some of them. Mimosa the Halfling was here, as was Gareth Darkriver, also called Gareth the Living, since Gareth the scout was long since dead. She saw the bald-headed, foul-faced wizard Nephos Vorn walking up too.

“Alms for the poor?” Asked a cloaked and hooded beggar. “Alms?” The cloaked man slipped through the crowd at the gate, making his way from person to person, begging for coins. Vellya ignored him. “Alms for the poor?” The man asked again, this time addressing a large, wild-looking bearded man. Vellya recognized the bearded man from Rivermoot. He called himself Oak, or Oak-water, or something like that she thought. The beggar reached out and tugged at Oak’s cloak. The sign of Ilmater was flashed. Words were exchanged but Vellya was not particularly interested. She turned her attention back to her blade, Wolf-Fang, examining every inch of its edge for nicks.

The sound of scuffling drew Vellya’s attention back to Oak and the beggar. The big bearded man was now grabbing at the cloaked beggar’s rags, while the beggar was clearly trying to get free of the much taller man.

“Thief!” Growled Oak as he grappled with the beggar.

Now the scuffle had everyone's attention. Vellya stood up from the wall and walked over, sword drawn. She pointed the blade at the cloaked man. “What is the problem?” She asked calmly. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Hyacinthe, bow in hand, moving around the cloaked man’s flank to block an escape.

More words were exchanged between Oak and the cloaked man, and they scuffled again, Oak trying to take hold of the beggar.

“Hey!” Vellya barked. “You, remove your hood.” She emphasized her command by stepping forward and bringing the very sharp point of Wolf-Fang closer to the cloaked man than he probably liked.

Oak was already trying to pull the man’s hood down, but the beggar swatted the bearded man’s hand away. The beggar stood up straight and slowly raised a hand as if to remove his hood. His other hand, however, slipped a small-bag out of the folds of his cloak and threw it to the ground.

Instantly, stinging dust blinded Vellya’s eyes and she found she could not breath. Her free hand wiped at her tears while she coughed and hacked. All around her people were shouting. She blinked repeatedly, tears streaming down her cheeks, and she could not see the beggar any longer. Turning towards the yelling, she saw a knot of people running east. The wizard Nephos Vorn let loose with a spell that fired green arcane light across the dark cobblestones. Hyacinthe was running too, bow in hand. The elf paused long enough to loose a shaft, then ran again.

Vellya ran after them. She could barely see and she was still coughing but she sprinted anyway, sword in hand. Around the broken wall she found the knot of people had stopped. People were yelling. An arrow flew. She heard metal on metal but she could not tell what was happening. Then she saw the beggar. He had one of Hyacinthe’s arrows in the back of his thigh and he was surrounded by a group of sell-swords, sentries and other folks. Without slowing down Vellya sprinted through the circle and slashed at the man with her sword. Though her eyes were near blind from the choking powder, she felt the blade rip through flesh. She body-checked the beggar to slow her charge, planted a foot, and then thrust in low with Wolf-Fang, almost blindly to where the beggar was standing. The sword connected again, this time with an audible pop-rip. She withdrew the blade and stepped back. The beggar fell against the wall behind him. Vellya spared a glance down at her blade; the first half-foot of Wolf-Fang was covered in black-blood. She looked at the beggar, who was sinking down the ruined wall. Bright red blood flowed from a gash along his neck, but it was the black blood flowing from his gut that caught her attention. From many battles Vellya knew it only took 3 or 4 inches of a stab wound in the gut to kill man, and from the look of her blade, Wolf-Fang had sunk in at least 6 inches. She had delivered a mortal wound; the man was as good as dead.

She stood up straight, leveling her sword at the collapsed beggar, catching her breath. The bearded man, Oak, quickly cast a healing upon the dying man, staunching the worst of his bleeding. It seemed the beggar-thief might not die after all. Though the would-be thief had been caught Oak seemed strangely upset with the scene. People were yelling all around and Vellya could not make out who was saying what so she just stepped forward and pulled the man’s hood back while keeping her sword at his throat. Instantly she recognized the face.

“Anselmo!” She exclaimed when she saw him, stepping back with startled surprise. “Its Anselmo!”

‘Uncle’ Anselmo, as he was known, was a salty old sell-sword and pirate who frequented Rivermoot. The Bleak Raven mercenaries called him “Head”, though Vellya did not know why. What she did know was the knights and soldiers of House Invinicible, the Helmite church, were desperately looking for this man. He had apparently impersonated a knight of Helm and made off with a secret message bound for Rivermoot. So far as the House Invincible was concerned, this was the most wanted man in the Silver Marches. As the Red Knights and the church of Helm were allies, Vellya took it upon herself to apprehend the old pirate. “You are under arrest Anselmo." She yelled. "Bind him!”

Hyacinthe nodded, set her bow aside, and drew out a long length of rope. Quickly she bound Anselmo’s hands behind his back. Even as the old pirate began complaining and arguing.

“Arrested? For what?” He asked, coughing up blood while Hyacinthe was tying his wrists. “For begging alms girly?”

“For impersonating a knight of Helm, stealing their orders, and possibly for pick-pocketing.” Vellya replied as authoritatively as she could.

Vellya’s attempt at authority, however, did not cow Anselmo. “I’m not d’ one what turned on his mate, lass.”

More words were exchanged. Vellya knew he was goading her so she tried to cut the conversation short. “You are going to the Temple, to Battle Priest Severan.” She reacehd down to help him up but he shook her off.

“I can stand on me own, lass.” He growled, blood trickling from his lips.

“You!” Came a guttural growl from down the trail - Lemuel had returned from the keep. “You! Where is the letter?" Lemuel yelled as he strode purposefully up to the wounded pirate. "Give me the letter, NOW!” Lemuel stood infront of Anselmo, put a fist in the wounded man’s chest, and drove him backwards into the ruined stone wall. Anselmo coughed up blood, and then started replying, talking in circles about this and that while Lemuel was yelling at him. Vellya could see no good was going to come of this - indeed, seeing the glowering, blond warrior Lem standing over Anselmo it did not take much imagination to picture Lem's gauntleted fist smashing Anselmo's head to a bloody pulp against the ruined stone wall. With Hyacinthe’s help, Vellya led Anselmo back to the Red Knight temple inside the keep followed by a long procession of witnesses and a cursing Lemuel.

Inside the temple, Vellya and Lemuel explained the situation to Battle-Priest Severan. The Battle-Priest listened, and then asked Anselmo for his side of the story. The salty old pirate’s tale was long, convoluted and fantastic. It involved evil-men who were after Anselmo, and all sorts of complicated intrigue. It was a very entertaining story, but in the end, Vellya decided it was just that – a story. In the back of the temple, Vellya heard the wizard Nephos Vorn muttering that a priest should have spells to determine lie from truth.

“Sir,” she said, turning to Battle-Priest Severan, “the wizard says that priests such as yourself have spells to detect the truth. That might help sort things out.”

Severan turned to Vellya with a slight smile, then looked back to Anselmo, who sat, coughing and bleeding on a temple-bench. “He’s already admitted his guilt.” Severan replied. “Its for Helm to decide his sentence now. Take him to the House Invincible.”

“As you wish sir.” Vellya replied. She stepped up to Anselmo and checked his bindings.

“You’re going to regret this girly.” Anselmo growled. “I’m not gonna ferget ye turned on yer mate. I’m gonna get me revenge.”

“I bet you will.” It suddenly occurred to Vellya that Anselmo might not be executed for his crimes. And that would leave him alive to revenge. It would be a good idea, then to know the extent of what he planned. “So, you going to murder me?" She asked while tightening his bindings. "Rape me?” If he said yes, then she was going to find a way to kill him along the road to Silverymoon. No point in taking chances – if the man made a vow to rape or kill her, she would see him dead. Anselmo was not so predictable, however.

“No, lass.” He smiled his crooked smile. “Much worse. I’m going to marry ye.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, and he chuckled with her. Vellya looked Anselmo over for a moment. His weather-beaten skin looked as tough as leather, and his messy black hair seemed as wild as any bush, but there was a gleam in his eyes, a spark, that did not exist in every man. Indeed, Vellya was certain that Anselmo was unlike anyone she had ever met before. She did not lust after him, but she had to respect him. Even in the face of death he was making jests and he was his own man. She smiled, and gently helped him off the bench. “Time to go.”

*************************************

“Bandits, three of them I think.” Hyacinthe reported, kneeling along the road to Silverymoon.

Vellya nodded. “Alright, Lemuel and Mimosa, watch Anselmo.” She chose Lemuel and Mimosa because they were the two that should hate Anselmo the most; Anselmo had greatly embarrassed Lemuel’s church, and the old pirate was at least indirectly responsible for the death of the gnome Nebojen, who was a friend of Mimosa’s if Vellya understood things properly. Guarding Anselmo should not be too hard anyway, Vellya thought, as Anselmo had collapsed just a minute ago, begging to be healed from his wounds. Of course, Anselmo’s weakness could be an act, but with Lemuel on guard, the wounded pirate should not get away. “Farran, Gareth, Hyacinthe, with me.” Vellya donned her helmet, drew Wolf-Fang, and started down the road towards where Hyacinthe said the bandits were. She did not get two steps before the wizard Nephos stopped her.

“Stand still girl.” Said the wizard with some frustration. Vellya stopped and looked back at Nephos. She had not given the bald-wizard any commands as she figured he would not take them anyway. Besides, she did not want him along and was rather hoping he would take the hint. Instead of leaving, however, the strange wizard intoned a spell and touched her sword. Wolf-Fang glowed softly for a moment. Vellya recognized the spell – it was an enchantment. Not permanent, but good enough to make her sword magical for the upcoming fight. Before she could say thank you, Nephos was intoning another spell. This one Vellya recognized as a protection spell. She blinked in shock. “Thank you.” She finally stammered out, obviously surprised. She shook her head slightly and focused on the task ahead. The bandits.

Vellya jogged up the trail with Hyacinthe, Gareth and Farran on her flanks, and Nephos not far behind. As they rounded the next bend, she saw the first bandit. Magical darkness descended on the road but Vellya, now running, was out of it in a split second. Arrows flew over her shoulder. Praise be to Hyacinthe’s skill, Vellya thought. The first bandit in the road had caught an arrow or two by the time Vellya got to him. She slashed across his chest as she passed by but did not stop. She was sure Gareth or Farran or both could finish him off. The next bandit darted across the trail to intercept Vellya. Vellya shifted her run, turning towards her attacker. She ducked the bandit's swing while cutting low and wide with Wolf-Fang. The bandit fell, eviscerated. The last bandit, a half-orc, was off the trail altogether. Vellya charged; at the edge of the trail she leapt into the air and stabbed downward over the half-orc’s weapon arm, bringing Wolf-Fang down point-first into his neck. The half-orc’s counter-strike, however, missed entirely. Landing on the ground behind the man, Vellya turned and watched the half-orc drop to his knees clutching his wound, blood gushing between his fingers, then collapse to the ground. She was about to smile when she noticed everyone else running back down the trail towards High Hold.

“Anselmo.” She mouthed, and then she ran after them.

*************************************

Hyacinthe was kneeling by the banks of the River Rauvin, just outside of High Hold. “He’s gone across the river.” She announced. Praise Hyacinthe’s skill again, Vellya thought for the second time today. Her thoughts about Lemuel and Mimosa were somewhat less kind, as she did not understand how they had lost custody of Anselmo, but crying over that was pointless. Just as she would not be accepting any excuses from them, Battle-Priest Severan would not be accepting any excuses from Vellya. No matter what Lemuel or Mimosa said, ultimately, Anselmo had been in Vellya’s charge – if they lost him, it was the same as if she lost him. So now, the most important thing was finding the old pirate as fast as possible. Vellya pointed down river to where a few old row-boats were tied up. “Lets get across.”

On the other side of the river, Hyacinthe immediately started looking for the trail. Eloril, the local who collected boar-tusks, saw the war-party and yelled over at them. “There were two of them, they headed west along the river, looking back a lot.” Vellya’s war party jogged down the grassy, muddy river bank, Hyacinthe in the lead, looking for tracks. Down river they found Oak standing about; a jolt of adrenaline shot through Vellya. That was how he escaped. Vellya thought. Though Anselmo and Oak had been grappling, she remembered seeing Oak visibly displeased at her interference when she arrested the pirate. Had he come back and helped Anselmo get free? It seemed likely at this point. Vellya sent Mimosa back to High Hold to report the escape. Oak and Hyacinthe talked briefly and the war party moved on.

Hyacinthe pulled Vellya aside. “Oakwater says Anselmo went downriver, but the tracks lead to boar-hollow.”

Vellya looked back through the trees. “I think he helped Anselmo escape.” Hyacinthe nodded. “Follow the tracks then.”

As they turned inland towards boar-hollow, the wizard Nephos spoke up. “I assume you have someone waiting at the boats in case he doubles back.”

Vellya chafed at his arrogant tone, but he was absolutely right. Anselmo might just double back, and worse yet, given a chance, the old pirate could disable or sink the small boats and leave the entire war-party stranded on this side of the river while me made good his escape. “Why don’t you go guard the boats then.” Vellya replied to Nephos curtly.

“Because he would probably kill me.” The wizard replied calmly.

Damn, Vellya thought, he’s right again. “Lemuel, go with the wizard to the boats. Now.” Anselmo had gotten away from Lemuel once, but she doubted the Helm-knight would let that happen again. The man might be unbalanced by his anger at the old pirate, but Lemuel was a good fighter without doubt – if Anselmo tried to force his way to the boats, Lemuel would prevail. Lemuel was not keen on his new assignment, but he obeyed – a moment later Nephos and Lemuel were running back to the boat landing. Vellya watched Nephos for a moment. The scowling wizard had helped apprehend Anselmo; he had also helped Vellya fight the bandits on the road; and now, he was helping trap the escaped pirate and he was doing a good job of it. Despite the wizard's arrogance and obvious distaste for Vellya, she decided she was going to have to re-evaluate him. The wizard was not only helping see justice done, he was doing it smartly, and while he might not like Vellya, Vellya respected competence.

Her re-evaluation would have to wait, however, as there was a fugitive to catch. Gareth, Farran, Hyacinthe and Vellya spread out and combed the hollow and the edges of the moors and the fen. Half an hour later Vellya spied Hyacinthe up by the rocks, waving at her and pointing at a cave opening. Vellya, Gareth and Farran jogged up to meet the wild-elf at the mouth of the cavern. “Tracks lead in there.” Hyacinthe said quietly.

Vellya nodded and thought for a moment. Someone had to go in, and someone had to watch the entrance. Gareth was the one Vellya knew the least, so he was staying outside. Farran was good with his ubiquitous spear, and Hyacinthe was an archer, but . . . Hyacinthe was the one Vellya trusted when her life was on the line. More than once she had fought beside Hyacinthe against great odds and walked away the victor. “Gareth, Farran, you two stay here and make sure he doesn’t slip past us. Hyacinthe, you come with me.” Vellya donned her helmet again and entered the cave, Hyacinthe right behind her.

****************

“Vellya.” Hyacinthe whispered. “Up here.” Vellya moved to Hyacinthe in the dark, cool cave. They had been searching for a long time, but they had not found the old pirate yet, so they were making a second sweep of the caverns. Hyacinthe pointed up the rock wall she was standing by. In a dark recess, Vellya’s half-elf eyes could just make out a body tucked into the crevice. Hyacinthe reached up with a free hand to tug at the body as Vellya approached.

A dagger whizzed past their heads. Hyacinthe leapt away, putting arrow to string and loosing the shaft in a heartbeat. Vellya raised her sword and stabbed into the crevice. “Die!” She screamed as Hyacinthe’s arrow slipped past. Vellya stabbed again as Hyacinthe loosed a second arrow. “Die you lying, cheating bastard!” Vellya thrust once more into the crevice, blood splattering across her face and helm, then pulled Wolf-Fang away and looked at the blade. Gore streamed down half its length. Up in the crevice, she could see the tail-end of two feathered shafts protruding from the darkness, and blood running down the rocks. She looked at Hyacinthe, then to the body, and back. Both women nodded. Each reached up with a free hand, and together they pulled they body out of its hiding place in the wall. Anselmo’s bloody, savaged form fell to the floor of the cavern at their feet. Hyacinthe leaned over him, listening for breath while Vellya held her sword to his neck.

“Dead.” Hyacinthe said simply.

Vellya let out a long sigh and leaned back against the rock wall. She pulled her helmet off and wiped the sweat and blood off her face. Both women regarded the dead pirate silently for a moment. She wondered if that dagger had actually been thrown, or if Anselmo had just died of his wounds up in that crevice and let it drop. Looking up in the now empty crack, she saw the broken glass of a potion vial, probably a healing draught. Did you accidentally drop it? Vellya wondered. Or did you break it on purpose, knowing the end was coming anyway? She did not know, and it was likely she never would. The only thing she was certain of was that Anselmo had chosen his fate, from start to end - it was his life, and was not about to let someone else tell him how to live it. She had to smile.

“Its too bad.” Vellya said with a mischevious grin. “I was starting to look forward to our wedding.”

************************************

Vellya stood in the Angler’s Tavern across the river from High Hold, staring into the flames of the fire place. The war-party that had hunted Anselmo down had gathered here for drinks. Vellya, who had carried Anselmo’s body back to High Hold, had made the first toast and that toast had been to Anselmo – he might have been a dirty lying thief, but he had lived life on his own terms and met his death the same way. She had to respect that. Those in the war-party that had known him in life were sharing their tales about him for those who had not. Most of the tales were quite funny; there was just no denying that Anselmo had been quite the character. The wizard Nephos Vorn had come to the tavern also, though he sat apart from the rest of the war-party. Vellya glanced over at him and decided she should give the wizard a second chance - he had done well today. But there was time for that later. Tonight, she was thinking about Anselmo. As Vellya stood staring into the fire, she felt an odd mixture of pride and regret. She was proud to have brought the thief to justice, but she could not help but think that the Silver Marches were going to be just a little less interesting tomorrow without Anselmo in them. She held her mug out to the fire and made a silent toast: To the interesting people - may the gods watch over their souls.

[Mikayla]

Edited above to correct a few typos and add just a little bit more in a few spots with Lem and Hyacinthe and Nephos.

[Phineus]

Excellent writing Mik. Thanks for catching me up on the events of the night.

[mishmash]

I enjoyed that a lot, thanks Mik.
I'll try and get a little story of my own done if I get the chance. Coming soon, the private memoirs and confessions of a justified sinner...