Retreating from the Retreat

[jmecha]

A young moon elf no more then fifty years old living in a world of laughter, love, and ageless mirth, living amongst the crystal spirals and magical world of Leuthilspar. A young elf who sits laughing and crying amidst the audiences of his talented mother’s audiences, who spends his time learning the bow and dance of the blade with his friends while smiling, and who enjoys helping his father in the countless rows of the Grand Library of Leuthilspar researching and studying the history of his people. Young Moon Elf who enjoyed drinking evermead with his friends at the gatherings of the Moon and sneaking off with his love beneath the star lite canopy.

A young moon elf grows curious of the mainland and begins researching the history of the many different peoples there and their ways of living. The ideals of the Hin Fist Monastic order strike him as more profound and magical then anything he has ever witnessed in his time living on Evermeet. This spark of inspiration created by the ideas of the Hin Fist hit him as if he was kindling ready to become a flame. This young elf still lives in a magical world of love, laughter, and ageless mirth though. He still attends his mothers performances, the great dances, the nights of evermead drinking and kiss stealing. This young elf still merrily attends archery practice and practices with the rapier and long sword. The only real change in him and what he does is that now when he visits his father at the Grand Library he spends all of his time researching and studying all he can find about the Monastic Orders of the Mainland.

The young moon elf’s time spent studying the bold and fearless disciplined monks of the Sun Soul Order carrying out the work of Lathander, Sune, and Selune in their adventures. The Hin’s of the Hin Fist Order and a few Dwarfs even who were amoungst their ranks and their exploits in heroics. The self sacrificing monk’s of Ilimatier’s Broken Ones and Ilimater’s Yellow Rose monks, hunters of those who would cause suffering. The monks of the Long Death with their interests in studying the moment of death and even the monks of Shar’s Dark Moon found their place in his studies given time. Always though it was the Hin Fist Order and the small collections of texts he found about the Old Order that he returned to and reread over and over.

By the time he was fifty-five years of age he had read and reread everything he could find in the Grand Library related to the study of Monastic Orders. What was once a spark of curiosity set off by the introduction of an idea foreign to his world had since grown into a flame inside his head. Flames need fuel to continue burning and with no more texts to study, the fire of his curiosity started finding other things to fuel its flames, like the bridges in this young elf’s life. At first it was subtle and almost went unnoticed, many elves spend lengths of time alone on personal projects and their choices go unquestioned and their actions undisturbed due to the high regards the elves hold for the idea of each individual’s right to privacy. Slow but steadily he spent less time with his family, friends, and even on occasion would not attend communal celebrations and festivals. By the time he was sixty years of age the Silver Hills were his home.

No matter how much time was taken from his family, friends, and the other aspects of his life, it just was not enough to ever progress in the direction he wanted to, it was as if the very nature the world he lived in was holding him and his studies back, and that is why he moved to the Silver Hills over looking the sea east of evermeet. In an Old Order text it was written that understanding and unlocking ones potential was the same as attempting to fill a sieve with water. You can not pour water into a sieve without it running out, you can only ever fill a sieve by submerging it into the waters, and so that is what he did. Away from his family, friends, away from the community and living in solitude he focuses on training. The slopes of the Silver hills were used for physical conditioning as he ran the hilly region until exhaustion on a daily basis. There was a tree wrapped in cloth that was used to practice striking techniques on until his arms and legs were hardened enough to strike the rough bark of the tree without the cushioning of the cloth wrappings. The various combat forms learned from books were practiced in the waters of the eastern shore until his body moved effortless through the resistance of the water. These things were as much training as they were escapes though for the elf that practiced them daily.

Every moment not spent running till exhausted, spent bloodying his arms and legs against tree bark, spent concentrating on flowing his body through the patterns of movement used in the various exercises, was spent with the real challenge. The challenge of not returning to his talented bardic mother’s stage performances, not returning to share laughter with his friends, not having the discussions once had with his father the lore keeper about history and culture, the nights spent with his young lover, not dancing and celebrating at the festivals with the rest of the elves on evermeet. The real challenge was all of these things because never before did he have to suppress an urge to spend time with loved ones or laugh and dance, never before did he have to discipline himself to a rigid solitary existence. Never before had this young elf ever lived in such an unelven like manner and even the exhaustion and pain brought about by the continuous physical exercises and training did not really help suppress his urges.

Years turned into decades and slowly over the course of time his urges grew weaker and his resolve stronger. Only after almost two decades did any of the training start to show results, only after discipline and self control made his instinctive urges nothing more then easily deniable wants did he make progress. Once the desire to return to the others was suppressed enough that it did not haunt his every thought, he began to notice the way his breathing effected different things and how the slightest change in his body’s posture could created widely varied results when performing techniques. It was at this time his training began, all that had came before was simply preparation. Now that he was capable of truly training he did so and stayed living in the Silver Hills of Evermeet alone until the name day of his 120th year.

After sixty years alone training he decided his name would be Aness Mal-Triel, loosely translated in other tongues as the elven handed war dancer. This name was choosen by him to pay respect to the Hin Fist Order that first inspire him and the Blade Singers of his own culture. That same day he decided his name, Aness set out for the Mainland only stopping to inform his family of his decision out of respect for them and one last visit to Corrilan’s grove. While passing through what was once his home full of magic, laughter, and love…Aness felt none of these things. The once good hearted humorous antics of his old friend’s he now found tiresome and child like, the once enrapturing performances of his mother where now far less moving. the pleasure found in reading the many books in the Grand Library was unfilling, and his old lover had already taken to another. Aness Mal-Triel had no troubles with leaving his home for the mainland because Evermeet no longer felt like home, the things that once made him happy now only rung hollow and meaningless. His people were wasting themselves on frivilous pursuits and pass times all the laughing, the dancing, the songs, the artist pursuits......that time could be used for training, studying, and so many other things. Aness Mal-Tril was done with thoose things and going to the main land to challenge himself and seek out new methods in which to further his studies. He told himself he was done with Evermeet and the ways of it, or so he told himself over and over while boarding that ship and while sailing towards the sword coast.