Aelenta Renvanith, Fox Knight of Autumn and Child of Renvanna

[jmecha]

Dying empires cast a weighty veil of mourning, and Aelenta struggled to cast it off. For as long as he could remember he was the only child in a community of those old enough to resign themselves to the inevitable. The elves of Renvanna were not joyless, but they were certainly burdened with a malaise. They knew the glory of Illefarn, they knew what they had lost over the millenniums, and they knew the direction of the road they were upon, were as Aelenta was shielded in part by the blissful ignorance of youth. He was a mischievous boy wanting to laugh and play, trapped in a community of elders who only ever seemed to experience joy when distracted from the inevitable sorrow to come.

It had been a very long time since a child had been born in Renvanna, so long in fact that Aelenta suspected many of the Elders no longer bothered trying. Aelenta himself was no exception, he was not actually born of the elves of Renvanna, more so an unexpected surprise in swaddling cloths thrust upon the community. This was not without it's advantages. Being the only child in a community of aunts and uncles, allowed freedoms that might not have been so easily accessed with more direct parental oversight. In truth his childhood was one filled with love if distant, joy if often unshared, and he was grateful that they had accepted him and raised him as one of their own. They had called him Renvanith, Child of the Westwood, and when he came of age to choose his own name, he adopted such as his family name for he was a child of the West Wood.

He was as much everyone's favored nephew, as he was everyone's only nephew. While not everyone was interested in investing their time into him as a boy, those who did, did so whole heartedly. High Priestess Isiovieng tended well to him when he was just a babe, and made sure to enforce an education upon him through out the years. Sywyn Feren taught him archery and sword play, tracking and wood craft, as well as a constant source of disciplinary action when it was needed... and it was often needed.

As gilded as the cage was though, it was still a cage. Wooden safety rails and vigilant gate keepers always seemed to keep him well corralled, and after one hundred years of life in Renvanna he just wanted to explore. To see beyond the tree tops of his home, and experience everything the Realms had to offer. Now that he was of age, there could be no stopping him.

[jmecha]

He wanted independence and freedom, and Aelenta Renvanith quickly realized that would require gold, ridiculous sums of gold. The admission fees to New Olman alone were a staggering sum. The few coins he scraped together doing odd jobs around Renvanna over the course of his childhood was in truth a laughably pitiful sum compared to what he was going to need. With his most apparent options being limited to returning to Renvanna and trying to ask for donations, or stalking the unbearable wasteland known as the Waterdeep Rat Hills in hunt of disease ridden pelts to exchange for a pittance, Aelenta decided to swallow the minimal amount of pride...and became a rat hunter.

Even with the pungent acidic odors, the constant risk of disease, wadding through filth, and the possible threat of the humiliation of having to stand before the Seldarine and explain to them that he had been eaten by rats, Aelenta knew in his elven heart of hearts this was definitely easier then groveling before Sywyn or Isiovieng and asking for their help. Yes it was absolutely dirty, nasty, horrid work, but he got to keep his own hours and there was no one he had to answer to. It was far from the freedom and independence that he had imagined, but it was a necessary evil for now. A temporary trial he merely needed to endure until he had earned his admission fees.

What was important was that he was actually pursuing his dreams and ambitions, on his own terms, even if not as he had originally envisioned them. Would the other Renvanna Rangers laugh at him if they saw him? Yes, but they were not here and he was. He was here in the City of Splendors making it happen, and he even got to meet some of the Adventuring Community while passing through Kerrigan Court.

There was the whirling dervish of the staff named Nym, who was so fierce a warrior she would sometimes traverse the Rat Hills barefoot. A most...impressive feat, for feet, and one that Aelenta refrained from questioning the wisdom or practicality of.

There was the Half-Orc stoic who was both titled, named, and living life as the Avowed. He was a massive mountain of a half-man who wielded impressively large sword staff with blades protruding from each end. A weapon that Aelenta strongly suspected he himself may have struggled to lift, let alone wield efficiently.

There was the warrior Cleric of Mystra Cael Thoranson wearing his heavy mails seemed every part the crusader of the cause, who self admittedly professed his first priority was tending to those who needed Mystra's healing, and tending to those that needed a mace to the face secondly.

Last, but not least by any stretch was the lady Maday. Lady, not woman, because she was all poise and charm. She simply emitted an aura of inspiration that made Aelenta want to stand a little straighter, smile a little wider, and take on the realms with eyes a little clearer. The fact that she was stunningly beautiful had, almost nothing to do with any of that. Nor did he like her because of her flattery in suggesting that he may make a fine stage actor in one of her performances, for he was more then wise enough to not let such high praise influence his opinions. Knowing that she herself was a member of New Olman did for certain inspire him to redouble his efforts to earn admittance.

The loose collective of them, each of them following their own pursuits on their own terms, and their banding together for shared adventures into the dangerous unknown was an inspiration. What they represented to Aelenta left him no choice at all but to accept when they asked him by chance encounter if he would be willing to accompany them on a Vampire hunt. In his head, it would be no different then him hunting ghosts as a child. An entertaining game of imagination and fantasy to pass the time, except this time he would actually be playing with friends as opposed to alone.



All to quickly Aelenta came to learn this was not merely some game to be played in which they hunted imaginary monsters and shared laughter while trying to scare each other. There was a Vampire, and it had victims. More then Aelenta could count. His role in the hunt was little more then helping the warriors by pass the security the Vampire had in place to keep such hunters from it's inner sanctum, but he did his part, and the others did theirs. They had been successful in an endeavor he had only imagined possible, and there was one less creature of the night stalking the Realms for the blood of others. When the sun rose that following dawn, Aelenta saw it in a new light.

[jmecha]

Returning to the Renvanna Ranger Station felt like home's embrace, and Aelenta reveled it the sensation of all the familiar sights, sounds, and smells. He still had not earned enough to pay his way into New Olman, but he was a successful vampire hunter and had earned more then enough in his time in the city to afford the indulgence of using the elf gate to treat himself to the comforts of home. No one asked how his time in the city had been, and he did not volunteer any of it to them. They knew at a glance that he had returned victorious to visit, not that he had returned defeated and wanting to give up on his ambitions. These were those who changed his soiled leaves as a babe, and as a boy trained him to be who he was now, there existed no need for words.

What was most unexpected though was Magolir of the Manthor taking an interest in him. The defender of the woods was without question a hero of the people who had played in active role in not just defending the community but also being one of the few to venture out and lead his team of Woodland Defenders to do what others would not on behalf of the Tel'Quessir of Renvanna. To be addressed by the likes of the Manthor, let alone their leader Magolir was an honor that Aelenta was not expecting. An honor that once again left him no choice but to eagerly accept the opportunity presented to him when asked if he would be willing to risk walking the forest floor to visit the ruins of Illefarn in the company of the Manthor.

What followed was a deeply profound experience as he got to not only to walk through and explore the ancient ruins of Illefarn, but got to behold images of what once was. It was as if the ruins themselves or perhaps those that had died there long ago wanted to share with them what had been, and what had come to pass. Between bouts with the Rainbow Beetles that now infested the place, they were shown scenes of the Tel'Quessir of old. Tapestries of ancient Houses hung from the walls, store rooms were filled with wonderous goods, and library shelves were stocked full of the old knowings since lost to time. More importantly though, they were shown how they had died together sharing tables, or even as couples laying beside each other in beds with their hands interlocked as if to better embrace the inevitable passing in union. As sorrow felt and wonderous as it was to explore such history, it was most disturbing to know the images they were seeing were being presented to them by those there that had not found peace in Arvandor. For they were confronted with what could only be described as a restless spirit urging them deeper and deeper and clearly needing the aid of Priestess of Moonlit Mystery Eliyanas Amamion of the Manthor.

So deeper, and deeper they went. Battling through the swarms of mind altering insects, clearing tunnels of stone blocking their passage, and even defeating with the Rainbow Beetle Queen who despite the confines of her habitat had grown to be larger then a caravanner's cargo wagon. Then and there within the depths of the ruins of Illefarn, standing over the skeletal remains of own of their own who had passed untold years ago, Priestess of Moonlit Mystery Eliyanas Amamion prayed for the passing of the souls trapped beneath the rock and earth to find their way to Arvandor by way of Sehanine Moonbow's guidance and grace. The quiet that followed was one of peaceful release, as if the cave it self had breath it's final breath softly, letting free all those who had been trapped within for untold centuries, and Aelenta averted his watery eyes from the other so they may not see the tears of joy the miracle of Moonbow before him brought to surface.

[jmecha]

The Plague Rat charged with is short swords low and ready to thrust, and Aelenta greeted him with a grin and a graceful parry that left the disease ridden cretin spinning. Which was ideal for getting the head start he needed to escape. Somewhere down in these sewers there was a band of Adventurers looking for the Shrine of the Huntress, and Aelenta was at the moment all alone and trying to play catch up. This by far and away, was one of his less thought out plans. It solely consisted of him finding the Adventurers and joining them before any of the sewer denizens managed to take full advantage of his being alone. Was it a risk worth taking? Absolutely not, but he took it anyway.

When he heard the voices of Cael and Maday discussing the splendor of the shrine, echoing off the walls of a narrow sewer passage, it sounded like victory horns blaring boldly his success. Slowing his pace to a cocksure swagger he entered the large sub-terrain chamber and introduced himself to the one member of the Adventurering Team he had not met before, Caley Chao. She was a very petite and exotically beautiful woman of far eastern descent who was so very thrilled about having found the Shrine of the Huntress she was near buzzing with excitement. Several times during the course of his attempted introduction she must have repeated that the Shrine was an unbelievable inspiration for Performers. Personally Aelenta preferred to think of himself as an Artist, or even a Troubadour, or more accurately a Troubledour, but he was not going to split hairs with this beautiful woman nor say anything to possibly sour her excitement.



Standing before the Shrine of the Huntress, was in truth, inspirational. Aelenta had read the stories and even read the songs she had written, she was a local Hero and learning about her had been a part of his course work at New Olman for better understanding the Culture and History of the City of Splendors. Though actually standing before her shrine, really helped put into context the life this woman had lived, her sacrifices and accomplishments. For no one fights as fiercely against the evils of slavers as foul as the Xanthar for as long and as hard as Ashale’n Dervise had without deep personal cost. After making a quick sketch in his field journal and making some notes, it was time to shift his focus back to his companions and learn where if anywhere they maybe off to next.

The dynamic seemed simple enough, Maday and Caley were both Performers and students of New Olman, not unlike himself, though they were certainly far more shapely and aesthetically pleasing. The Warrior Cleric of Mystra Cael Thoranson and the Half-Orc Avowed were providing the duo an armed escort through the Sewers. Falling into formation felt as familiar as slipping on a favored pair of boots, and in no time at all the five of them were traversing the sewers as one, leaving a trail of slaughter goblins in their wake and even managing to discover several stolen gaming tables from Waterdeep's Golden Wheel Casino. Sadly, not all that begins well ends well as Aelenta was suddenly forced to violently learn.

Their travels took them down several side passages and further from the access ladders of the sewers main canal then they had planned. The unseen light of Lathander set silently in the West, and they found themselves stranded in the mire of increased goblin patrols, far from any means of escape. Clergy Cael Thoranson knew the sewers better then any of them and directed the scouting Avowed to lead them towards the City's North Gate as their nearest point of egress. They though were not the only ones with a plan, and the denizens of the sewers had rallied there as well to take violent vengeance upon the band of heroes who had slain so many of their compatriots. They had laid their ambush at the ladder, and it was sprung without hesitation, and executed without mercy.

Their numbers were simply overwhelming, and the selfless Warrior Priest of Mystra Cael Thoranson was the first to fall as several of the Goblins and Plague Rats singled him out for his heavy armor as the most dangerous threat. He did not fall alone nor without a fight, for he took several of them with him. During the fighting Maday managed to gracefully pirouette through the chaos and make it up the ladder while the surging horde turned their full focus upon the juggernaut known as the Avowed. It took several of Goblins and Plague Rats working in tireless concert to bring the orc blooded monastic warrior low, and even then their frenzy they managed to break their own questionable alliance and turned to fighting each other as the Avowed finally fell with an audible thud. Seeing no way forward nor back, Aelenta reached for a vial of liquid invisibility to make himself unseen while the Plague Rats and Goblins were briefly distracted by their efforts to murder each other.

His mind raced as he tried to take stock of what had happened, and what was happening. The Warrior Priest was obviously slain, but it was possible both the Avowed and Caley may have some life left in them, and so under the temporary cloak of invisibility the potion provided, Aelenta tried to quietly bottle feed his fallen comrades the curatives he carried. Their wounds were simply to grievous, and nothing he carried was going to be getting either of them back upon their feet. Crouched low and softly padding silently along the corpses and blood towards the Plague Rats who were taking delight in looting and mutilating Cael Thorsanson's corpse, Aelenta took a gamble upon pilfering away the priest's belt in hopes there maybe some means of reviving the wounded within. There was not, and now a choice needed to be made, and it was on Aelenta Renvanith to make it.

There were maybe seconds or at best mere moments left before the potency of the potion he had ingested faded and left him standing exposed amongst this band of murderers who would gleefully add his firm and fair elven arse too their tally. There was no time to think this through or fine another way, it was simply time to act, and so Aelenta padded softly towards where the Avowed laid breathing shallowly at the foot of the ladder. Supernaturally enchanting his strength with a potent potable, Aelenta worked his long elven fingers beneath the Avowed until he had a handle on the massive Half-Orc and tried to swiftly lift him and scurry up the ladder to safety. He would have had as much a chance of lifting the Avowed as he would have knocking out a stone golem with a sucker punch. Even with his strength augmented through alchemy, there would be no lifting the Avowed, let alone carrying him up a ladder. The failure of his efforts wretched his stomach into hollow knots and made his eyes watery with resignation for the fate he was going to leave his companion to.

Gritting his teeth and suppressing his grief for the Avowed, Aelenta quickly scurried as quietly as he could pass the smug and celebrating Plague Rats who had devolved into arguing amongst themselves over who would get to keep which of Cael's personal effects as a trophy, to where Caley Chao had fallen. There was roughly twenty feet between her and the ladder, and if he could get her on his shoulder and break into a fast enough sprint, there maybe a chance he could save her before the distracted victors realized what was happening. Taking one deep breath he carefully slipped one arm beneath her and prepared to move swiftly. The method of swiftly scooping up a fallen comrade in a retreat is one all of Renvanna's Rangers knew, and Aelenta had practiced it for decades, but never before had he performed in under real duress. Rolling her up onto his shoulder was easy, but running with her there certainly was not. Moving as quickly as he could towards the ladder he heard the audible gasp of surprise as the Plague Rats collectively noticed one of their victims floating away. With stabbing pain of guilt and remorse, Aelenta firmly planted his left foot on the Avowed's back to use him as a stepping stool to ascended the ladder as quickly as he could while carrying Caley Chao to the safety of the streets above.

[jmecha]

The loss of his companions cut deep, and Aelenta returned to Renvanna to mourn. Neither the Half-Orc Avowed nor Clergy Cael Thoranson of Mystra were his friends or family, but they had been companions and that meant something, it meant something to Aelenta. He could not help but feel responsible, feeling as if he had failed them both. He knew that there was nothing more he could have done for either of them, but that did not stop him form feeling as if he should have, for feeling as if he needed to have done more. It was difficult to imagine there was anything he could have done to save Clergy Cael Thoranson, but maybe if his arrows had found their marks more swiftly he could have prevented his death?

The Avowed though, that loss was painfully preventable. If only he was stronger, he could have saved him. It was literally a matter of raw physical prowess, and Aelenta had been found lacking. The failure nested in his stomach like a painful pit. Knowing that if he had been stronger that he could have saved him, but abandoned Caley Chao in the process. It was a twisting maze of melancholy in which his thoughts and emotions slowly meandered through bumping against every wall and feeling every corner as he explored the depths of his sense of failure. He had never really experienced loss like this before, and it was sobering enough to leave him stunned and reeling.

The only funeral he had ever attended was that of Elven Champion and Leader of the Waterdeep Adventurer's Guild, Dorian Orthallas who had lost his life during the fierce fighting of the Shadow War. That though was, so far removed from being personal. He remembered being sad, more so for all the others in attendance who did appear to be hurt and suffering a tragic loss at Guild Master Orthallas's passing. No one in Renvanna, died. No one in Renvanna ever, did anything that might risk their lives, other then the Manthor. They though had always returned home victorious, and between their successes, and the few successes Aelenta had managed to have in his time, he was wholly unprepared for dealing with these level of loss.

As painful as the sense of loss and failure was, there was also a deeply seated fear that he tried to pay no mind. This was a coping mechanism he had used before in life to varying degrees of success with other problems. It basically consisted of trying to ignore the problem in hope that it might sort it's self out. This seedling of fear was one such concern he would rather ignore then perhaps face directly. The fear that, in time the only way he might come to terms with such personal losses, which he now suspected would continue to forever be an inevitability of continuing to pursue a life of shared adventure...would be to become callused and cavalry about the lost lives of others?



Stepping out of the Ranger Station to take in the night he happened upon the Manthor preparing to patrol the abandoned tree tops West of Renvanna. The conversation turned to Aelenta's time in the city. He shared openly with them the tragedy of his recent experience. Only to hear their collective laughter, giggling, and shudders of revulsion at the Avowed being an Orc blooded scout. These were his heroes, laughing at his dead companions, and out of turn or not Aelenta was not going to suffer such silently.

"I understand the.....humor....believe me, I am not missing the irony.....though I returned home to distance myself from the tragedy....not to listen to my people laugh at the deaths I struggled to prevent."

At this Magolir changed the course of the conversation, introducing Aelenta, to Sulrath Starshadow the lead scout of the Manthor. It was an honor to be introduced to such a renown and accomplished scout, but there was vitriol in Aelenta that was difficult to swallow with grace due to the slight against the lost lives of his companions, and worst of all that nagging concern he had been ignoring noticeably stirred. In time would be laughing at the deaths of others as the Manthor just had? Was this the inevitable outcome of continual exposure to so much violence and death?

The less then subtle praised Magolir heaped upon his Manthor, did well to imply they would not suffer such a fate as those of the city who would allow themselves to be guided by an Orc Blooded Scout. It took some effort for Aelenta to not ball his long fingers into fists, and offer retorts of defense to his fallen companions. Mostly though he held his tongue because he knew very well his words would not sway the hearts and minds of the Manthor. They held very strong convictions about those that dwelled in the city, and defending the prowess of the Half-Orc Avowed who did lead his companions into a fatal ambush was no the hill to die upon.

When he was invited to join the Manthor as they patrolled the tree tops West of Renvanna, it was once again no choice at all. If he refused due to his mourning, or offense at their indifference to his dead city companions, it would have been a selfish act that would have only shamed him as he not only denied his own aid, but cut his own nose off to spite his face. So he saw to seeing his quiver filled, and set out with the Manthor into the night.

Come dawn, only Magolir and Aelenta remained upright as they carried the scout Sulrath Starshadow and Clergy Eliyanas Amamion. The Warrior of the Star People Relkanan Treerunner's corpse was beyond retrieval as he had valiantly sacrificed himself in a swarm of ambushing Kobolds to give the others a chance at escape. It was no different then what had befell his companions in the city, they had blundered fatally into overwhelming numbers and were quickly overwhelmed and torn asunder. The irony was not lost on Aelenta Renvanith, but it was certainly no laughing matter.

[jmecha]

Word had spread that Lady Maday had plans to put on an open air concert in Kerrigan Court, and Aelenta was not going to miss it. Within the audience was the young warrior of Ilimater Jav as well as the Priestess of the Vaunted Tasia. Aelenta could not help but privately chuckle about how spectacle and entertainment can be a common ground for even the most unlikely of individuals. Everyone enjoys a good show, and Lady Maday gave them what they enjoyed.




After a brief bit of tale telling to insure everyone was aware of who the Hypnodancer was, and his effect on the local entertainment community, Maday presented to the gathered her song, Bring Back the Halls.


Shadowed in the City of Splendors
Lurks one of artists’ worst offenders.
Another ten day comes and goes
Yet we, in gloom, have no new shows.

Dances, songs and plays suspended
‘Til this scourge is apprehended
Can we terror’s harm reverse?
Perhaps the legend now is worse.

Empty halls and coin now bated,
Heady dreams decapitated.
Whilst hope for bard’s renown is shrinking,
I wonder, ‘what could he be thinking?’

*Maday pulls off her cloak with a jerk and tosses it aside revealing almost everything that was once concealed beneath it.*



*the beat shifts and she begins to sing again in a slightly deeper voice*

Isolated and stranded
Is not how I planned it
I should have been exalted
but instead I’m reprimanded

for being modern and daring.
So what if everybody’s staring -
I brought the finest raiments
But now look at what I’m wearing.

*holds up his ale*

Here’s yet another tankard
To which I’m tragically anchored
I’ve got to change my name, my looks . . .
My brand is swift becoming fatally cankered.

Hypnodancer . . .
Needs an epithet enhancer.
Nobody’s gonna think of me
With such an unlaudative answer.

I could be the Enthraller,
The Chanson Caller,
Caterwauler.
I’m more than just a fan mauler.

Or the Whirling Gale.
When facing the Grim Wail,
Remedies are gonna fail.
The Mind Slug, Pink Clamor
Erotic Enamor,
There is no debating
Something fresh would be more captivating
And bring glory and glamor.

How about the Mind Slug?
Menace of the Jade Jug?
Would you even give a hug
To The Morkoth, The Clatterer?
The Magenta Music Scatterer?
Does it even matterer?

It certainly does
If only because

I gotta use the precise name
If I’m gonna gain the fame
I crave
So that others will rave.
But I may have to face the shame
Of being as alone as
A nameless necromancer.
If I am simply forever known as
The aimless Hypnodancer.

*falls to a heap on the floor*
*stands and pulls back on her cloak*
*resumes singing in the original melody*

The stages need reactivated
Adoring fans recaptivated
Could we before a court augustus
Bring this braying fraud to justice?

Time now around the cause to rally
And hasten the destined finale
Of this most antithetical campaign.
Let silence perish and music reign.

Everyone clapped and cheered for the performance, and once all of their attention was had, Lady Maday did not hesitate to share with them the poster for her upcoming theatrical production.



As well as a song as a sampling of what was to come.

If you search through the cowering masses,
You’ll find a bold group of lads and lasses
Who’ll drop their mugs, their steins, their glasses,
At the sound of squeaks, to risk their asses.

Rats, rats!
We’re speaking of rats!
As a reminder, if you’re ill at ease,
They’re stinky, disgusting and full of disease.
We’re going to go kill some rats!

They’re found in the sewers and in the hills –
Nothing quite like it when searching for thrills.
It isn’t prestigious – no glamor, no thrills –
But if you are coinless, it helps pay the bills.

Rats, rats!
We’re speaking of rats!
Gather their tails and collect the fees.
They’re stinky, disgusting and full of disease.
We’re going to go kill some rats!

For every one slain, there are two in its place.
How long can we keep up this feverish pace?
There’s only one motto that you should embrace –
Run if you must, there’s no prizes for grace.

Rats, rats!
We’re speaking of rats!
No one to stop you, so kill all you please.
They’re stinky, disgusting and full of disease.
We’re going to go kill some rats!

With Lady Maday having brought her show to an end, Aelenta asked if he might take advantage of the audience to share something he had been working upon. It only seemed proper to ask his fellow artist if he might use the crowd she had drawn, and with grace Lady Maday granted her blessing. It was then that Aelenta stood and shared with the others that recently he had heard the magical music of an Illfarn Battle Hymn performed on a harp by the leader of the Manthor, Magolir. He explained the words may had been lost to time, and the song may have originally been meant for harp...but Aelenta had only a lute, and the words he felt inspired to share.




Born of blood and moon beams
We exist as body and dreams

We are the children of the Seldarine
Risen from battle fresh and green

He bleed deep crimson red
and tears of love she did shed

We are the children of the Seldarine
Risen from battle fresh and green

Let there be no thorn
that gives you scorn

We are the children of the Seldarine
Risen from battle fresh and green

Let there be no bite
that gives you fright

We are the children of the Seldarine
Risen from battle fresh and green

Let there be no axe
That makes you collapse

We are the children of the Seldarine
Risen from battle fresh and green

We are the children of eternal spring
Born of Queen and King

[jmecha]

Privacy was a foreign concept, at least it was, until an adolescent Aelenta realized he wanted some. Living in the shared space of the Ranger Station provided none, and the Crafting Hall was just as porous in regards to such affairs. Short of actually owning a private residence, which he certainly did not, one needed to get creative to find any semblance of privacy amongst the communal elves of Renvanna. It is not as if everyone was constantly spying upon each other, in truth everyone was more then willing to give each other their space for the most part, all the same though sometimes a young elf just wants to be alone.

Climbing up into an unused archer's nest inside the community proper provided some measure of privacy, and was relatively safe, but there was always the threat of being walked in upon by someone. It was the sort of place you would go to be alone if you wanted to be interrupted. The Aerie above Renvanna was a better place for solitude so long as you kept vigil against the threat of predatory phase spiders, which was less then ideal. It was during these years that Aelenta took an interest in tricking locks open, not so that he could access other people's house and homes, but so that he might be able to slip inside some of the abandoned homes on the out skirts of Renvanna proper. The fact that he was strictly forbidden from roaming the abandoned tree top walk ways alone in his youth, only some how made slipping away to let himself into the long abandoned homes that much more rewarding.

That though was then, and today was today, and on this particular day Aelenta just wanted to be alone with his thoughts. There was no need to go slipping into an abandoned home on the outskirts of Renvanna, nor risk a spider bite. He just wanted to sit and make study of his own thoughts, and the objects that troubled them. So he decided an empty archer's nest would be more then fine and fair for his purposes, maybe even some part of him wanted to be caught?



Sitting alone in the Archer's Nest, he held in each of his hands the finely crafted and enchanted Dhaerow bracers from the Melee-Magthere warrior academy of Menzoberranzan. They were as shockingly abhorrent as they were stunningly beautiful to behold. Cool to the touch and made from masterfully refined darksteel that had been shaped and polished to a smooth sheen by the hands of a true artisan, designed and made intentionally for Dhaerow to more effectively wield their murderous weapons. The thought alone of an academy of such warriors training to spread merciless death and cruel enslavement for as far as they could reach was enough to make Aelenta shiver with dread and disgust. These were of the Dhaerow, beautiful and deadly. The thrill of such was not unlike the first time he held a live blade in his hands as a boy, after borrow it from the Ranger Station Armor so he might "Train" with it, only to almost completely cut off the tip of one of his ears while swinging it around like the reckless child he was.

He could not help but wonder which tongue lashing would be worse. The one he received for maiming himself with a stolen sword, correction, a borrowed blade, as a boy....or being seen wearing Dhaerow Bracers, that he had rightfully taken in a successful raid against a lair of Drider Priestesses and Warriors, as well as monstrous spiders? That though was only a curiosity to be weighed and measured for it's effects of public opinion, which while important was not most important. As much as he did not want to break the thin ice he always felt he was on in the presence of Magolir of the Manthor, more importantly Aelenta wanted to know if it would really be wrong to wear Dhaerow Bracers he had taken from them through bravery, prowess, some cunning, and exceptionally good luck?

Yes they were forged by the Dhaerow, and intended for evil...but were they innately so? Not that his current situation was some life or death affair in which any advantage needed to win the day might be acceptable, but he did live a life of danger...and if worn these bracers would give him an advantage in his next death defying experience which he could only imagine would likely be due to some valiant effort against some horrid evil or in defense of those who needed defending. So he asked himself, would it be wrong to repurpose these Dhaerow Bracers?

[jmecha]

So many dead without reason left Aelenta reeling. The warming summer season was a time for pleasing, and so quilled a song about better feeling. A bit of botanical innuendo meant to be played with growing crescendo.



Samara Fruit

A seed on wings
I am going to flutter
No need to close your shutters
I am the safest of spring flings

Flying fast
The distance I will last
Let me fill up your cask
leave your questions unasked

I am the future of the maple
Let me sweeten your table
I promise I am more then able
So long as you are not wanting stable

All I need is a pleasant place to plant my root
You have no need to fear this Samara Fruit
As light and breezy as playing a flute
Or as fast and furious as strumming a lute

I might appear to not have a care
As you see me dancing in the air
But if you take the time to dare
I promise there will be syrup enough to share

As I said I am a seed on a wing
So long as you are not wanting a ring
Open your tree house shutters let the rain wetten the gutters
I will deliver something richer and thicker then butter

No matter if you dine on meals of oats
or if you my lady wear the finest coats
let me cross your guarded moat
So I may sooth your sore throat
With my flavorful notes

[jmecha]

Floral in the City of Coral

No matter if the tide is high or low, this you should know.

Bring a gift that has more flash,
If you wish to swim and splash
through the night till morning
take to heart this troubadour's warning.

When thy lady or lad lives in a city of coral,
do not offer gifts of floral.
They will only question you moral,
and this may end in a quarrel.

This lesson I give thee,
For under the sea,
plants are for eating,
not for romantic preceding.

To my fellow sailors and swimmers,
deep divers and good dorsal fin riders,
Try a gift that brightly shimmers?
To steer clear of cultural colliders.

[jmecha]

Parlor Tricks

As a youth I was curious to my core,
just a boy looking to explore,
secrets were my treasure to seek,
I learned a thing or two about being a sneak,
Always wanting to see and learn a little more.

As I grew a little bit older,
my curiosity only grew bolder.
window curtains and doors ajar,
were no long enough to shine my star.

So I made my first set of picks,
so I may continue to get my kicks.
I put my skills to the test,
rank amateur at best,
often caught I took my licks.

This is now and that was then,
I have since expanded my play pen.
Now before you condemn my actions,
allow me to offer satisfaction?

These days I dare say my Larceny is varsity,
and if you have a need that locks impede,
together we might do the deed

Need you a treasure,
it would be my pleasure,
to help you acquire
your heart's desire.

Say it be a tome of lore from the days of yore,
or a lost and forgotten relic majestic,
or vestments of virtue who's restrictions bore,
we may share adventures fantastic.

[jmecha]

The blank canvas was as much a bane as it was a boon, and Aelenta Renvanith stood before it making all the appropriate faces for an artist at work, as well as perhaps several inappropriate faces. Not certain where to start, he narrowed his eyes and studied the canvas with all the intensity of a bird of prey searching the lands below for a field mouse in tall grass. Afterwards he entered into the subtle head dance of feigned interest in polite conversation, in which he wore a pleasant smile and arched a brow while slowly nodding at the canvas in hopes it might reveal something to him simply out of the desire to share with someone willing to listen. Then he applied the thinker, in which the corners of his eyes tightened as he stroked his hairless chin with his right hand while cupping his right elbow with support of his left hand, as if the thoughts swelling in his head needed both arms to carry them, even though they did not. Having poured some evermead into a comically small glass made to showcase the complex flavors of dessert wine, Aelenta arched his back some and nodded with a grin at the canvas while slowly swirling the drink with a smooth and steady circular motion of his hand. Each and everyone of these various legendary maneuvers failed to properly inspire inspiration and so he took a seat on the over stuffed couch and enjoyed his drink, while occasionally threating the canvas with disdainful side eye for it's unwillingness to cooperate.

There were several plates spinning currently and as much as Aelenta did not want to admit his concerns, he was wary of them all coming down in a horrific crash. In truth he did not even know where to begin with much of anything at the moment, which existential horror he ought to properly prioritize first and foremost, because as of the moment each of his swelling concerns seemed rather dangerously dire, and both involved friends and Tel-quessir. The more difficult of the two concerns, Aelenta eventually decided with some mental gymnastics to justify being less immediate of a concern, mostly because said concerns seemed mostly disturbing and less immediately deadly, and in part because he had no idea how to actually deal with several of Renvanna's most dedicated defenders offering sincere prayers and devout worship to an illusionary tree. It was all so very bizarre that inside an ancient ruin filled with illussions of the past, and a place that has been known to trap the souls of those who passed there, they would gather around an illusionary tree and refer to it as the tree of life. It only really made sense in the most abstract sense if you looked at the action as a manifestation of their deeply ingrained hero worship of a misunderstood past and their total revulsion to the present day realities of the Realms. There was something troubling in the Westwood, something that spoiled the hot springs, something that slowly dwindled the birth rate of Tel-quessir to non-existent, there was something that allowed the Spiders and Kobolds to thrive while his own people dwindled.....something more real then self delusion, but certainly self delusions were not going to be an aid to righting whatever the wrong was.

Pouring his fourth very tiny dessert wine glass full of Evermead, Aelenta decided that for certain the more immediate threat was the Rusalka preying upon the twin communities of Tharqualnaar and T'Quession out in Deepwater Harbor. When he approached Sir Ambrose Illance in search of a patron of the arts to invest in Aelenta's artistic endeavors, he never suspected he would end up actually adventuring besides the man he had heard rumors of being an liyan. Yet here he was saddled with the very real and dangerous dilemma of a Rusalka devouring merfolk and his sea elf kin, while himself as a member of Sir Ambrose Illance's coterie has been called upon to put an end to this Fey's predations. Ideally some accord could be struck with the Rusalka, because putting such a being to the death seemed not only distasteful, but likely fatal for any attempting such. Though seeing how the Rusalka was described as a beauty beyond mortal standards, capable of revealing every weakness and inadequacy with just a touch, and enthralling the minds of those who heard her sensual and sorrow laced song, made it really difficult to imagine any means of fair and reasonable negotiations with this being of the Fey. He could perhaps, try and earn her respect as an artist and fey blooded being, but to do so would be one wild roll of the proverbial dice, and he would need to bring something the bear better then a song about picking chastity belt locks free or comparing his loins to samara fruit. So many horrible ends to make there with that gamble, maybe worst of all is the very real potential to embarrass himself before her, then a distant second was actually impressing her so very much that she decides she needs him and then proceeds to drain his very life force from him in the most pleasurable life ending experience any young maple seed on a wing could hope for. Still though there was a small and treacherous middle ground where he might impress her enough to be considered a peer in which his companions and her might actually parlay. Not sure what if anything they might have to offer her that would be attractive enough for her to stop preying upon the sea folk as she has been, but maybe they could pull a pearl out of their pockets worth her consideration? Maybe a marriage between the Rusalka and Little Big could be arranged in which the pair of them might find an island in the sun to live out their days together?

The sweet evermead tasted bitter as Aelenta drained the last of his petite glass with the realization that he really had no plan, and that preparing cold iron weapons for confronting the Fey would be, the most practical move to make.

[jmecha]

There was quite a bit for Aelenta to wrap his mind around, and he made liberal use of the Temple of Beauty's stores to acquire the sweet wine needed to attain the desired mental flexibility. He though was careful not to over imbibe, because he dare not risk passing out. Not now anyway, not now that he had so recently learned that the realms of nightmares and dreams were very real places where one could be slain or trapped for potential eternities. Not that anyone ever claimed clear and rational thinking was Aelenta's strong suit, but desperate times called for desperate measures and he was willing to mull matters over, and try not to get to far lost along the way.

The general gist of the matter at hand was that Mooncalled Eliyanas Amamion appears to have recently returned from the dead as some variation of a Dream entity. Perhaps she never truly died and instead when her corporal form was slain she became a being of Dreams? Or perhaps she truly died and has passed on to Arvandor and the Mooncalled Eliyanas Amamion that he and the others of Renvanna have been encountering is nothing more then a collective dream made a reality of sorts by unconscious desire that she be the hero and wise mentor we need? It could be elements of both were true, and or that neither were close to the mark and all of this was wildly beyond both his knowing and his imagination. Thankfully the Temple of Beauty had a rather robust and generous selection of wines available for him to use to sort through all of this.

In addition to all of this, it appeared that the warrior Magolir of the Manthor and the druid Kivessryn Shinath'tar of the High Forrest, were experiencing similar if not overlapping dreams. Dreams about a taunting Leshy hidden above the trees in the southwestern reaches of the Westwood. Dreams that became a reality when we decided to follow them as a map to our destiny and did in deed find a Leshy. Who playfully taunted us and wanted very much to engage in games of frolic and fun, when not awarding us news of otherworldly horrors and ancient threats as rewards for our gamesmanship.

Why were only these two sharing these dreams? The pair were not, overly similar to each other in any particular way, yet they were sharing dreams and the rest of us were not. It could be easily dismissed as the others being to recently arrived to be properly in tune with the dreamscape of the region, and certainly someone may want to imply that the time Aelenta was spending in Waterdeep made him far to impure for proper dream, but the druidess Earlanni Rachiilstar of the High Forrest arrived side by side with Kiv.....which served to rule out the arrival time to the region being of much importance.

Thinking to write down what the Leshy had shared while it was still relatively fresher then vinegar in his mind, Aelenta took a brush to the blank canvas and practiced his calligraphy.

Tower pull your dream, but dreams I see. Bad place to go, not good to be!
Tower West, but not in jest.
Danger there, long locked away. Now escapes, leaves all to death-cay.. decay?
Live there two, children of gods. Vessel and prisoner. Watched by two, sealed in dream
Tried to keep away the rot, but in time was all for not!

Actually traveling to the "Tower" immediately after being warned to stay clear of it was a bold choice. That landed them in the company of what appeared to be a pair of guardians. Who after a bit of banter between the pair of them decided to send all of the interlopers to a Nightmare. A Nightmare that would have lasted their life time if not for the sudden and welcomed appearance of Mooncalled Eliyanas Amamion who saved them from the likes of a Balor and guided them to a Dream Door that they were never meant to find. A Dream Door that took them to a dream in which that had been lost to the passage of time might still exist to be reclaimed. Reflecting upon it all now, with all the potent power of hind sight as well as the fruit of the vine in his cup and veins, did very little to make any of it make any more sense then it did at the time.

The unremembered words of a long forgotten lullaby, gently worked to put him at ease, with an honorable assist from the hollow bottle beside him.

[jmecha]

Through Twilight's Journey

Sleep my dream and moon light attend,
Through the twilight journey
Visions of wisdom and love Sehanine will send,
Through the twilight journey
Dark and silent hours for sleeping,
Mind not nocturnal predators creeping.
Moonbow's grace forever keeping,
Through twilight's journey

Dream bears vigil, stand their ground,
Through the twilight journey
Midnight monsters will surround,
Through the twilight journey
Dark and silent hours for sleeping,
Mind not nocturnal predators creeping.
Moonbow's grace forever keeping,
Through twilight's journey

Moonbow's grace forever keeping,
Through the twilight journey
Dark and silent hours for sleeping,
Through the twilight journey
Immune to time's stealing
Internal truths revealing
Embrace her grace with feeling
Through twilight's journey

Dream bears vigil, stand their ground,
Through the twilight journey
Midnight monsters will surround,
Through the twilight journey
Allow her silvery light to disarm
All of the panic and alarm,
All hidden fears that would harm.
With her grace as a safeguard
Through twlight's journey

[jmecha]

The void door delivered him into a world of deadly darkness, and Aelenta's first thoughts were that this place was as ruthless as Malar's mauling midnight moans. The chill that seeped into his bones left him feeling hollowed out and frail. It was as if the plane of shadows wanted to blot him out of existence. Like ink spilt across the pages of his life story, in time he would just become another dark stain in a tapestry of shadows.

Having his companions beside him, was a small comfort in this otherwise dark and uncaring plane of existence. Not wanting to linger longer then needed, he almost immediately set out in the direction of Shadowdeep's Southern Ward. Careful to step lightly through the darkness and wary of what may hide in wait behind every corner, Aelenta Renvanith did his best to get them where they were going. Avernus was the goal, which was a funny thought to think, but for now the intermediate step was reaching Shadowdeep's equivalent of the Adventurer's Quarter to meet Torleth the Trader, an infernal devil with intimate knowledge of Avernus. The things we do for friends.

[jmecha]

The scent of lavender rose with the steam off the bath waters within the Temple of Beauty, and the knot of fear inside Aelenta's stomach was near crippling. The memory of being helpless, of having the life constricted out of him and his closest friends, scarred him. The Rusalka's beautiful and flowing hair had lashed out at them like the limbs of a monstrous octopus. Wrapping tight around their wrists and waists, crushing them and leaving them helpless contorted wrecks. They were nothing more then hapless puppets to be abused and beaten upon as she pulled the strings.

The mere thought of entering the water shortened his breath and gave him paralytic pause. Naked and trembling, he slowly worked his way through half a bottle of Manycherries Wine before building up the courage to slowly lower his lithe frame into the waiting waters. His heart raced on contact with the heated waters, but he submerged himself all the same. Slowly but surely, the hot waters worked to wash away all his aches and pains.

Her presence in his mind was unavoidable. As horrific and terrifying as being her drawn and quartered by her luscious locks were, it was impossible for anyone with a heartbeat to have been in the presence of such a beauty and not adore her. She was first love and youthful spring, stealing kisses behind the trees, and all the excitement indulging passionate desires that deepened the wanting for more. She was the first kiss that leads to the touch of tongues and followed with the clumsy fumbling with buckles and buttons. She was also a timeless companion,who needed you as much as you needed her. She would need and want you deeply forever and ever. The longing, the wanting she had for you specifically emitted from her like as undeniable as heat from a flame. The thought gave Aelenta chills.

The goal had simply been finding her, and finding a way to stop her preying upon the people's of Tharqualnaar and T'Quession. There was not much of a plan beyond preparing for the worse and seeking the Rusalka where she was rumored to lair, beyond Deepwater Harbor's sea wall. The only way initial contact might have gone worse then it went, would have been if she had killed Aelenta and his companions, instead of merely strangling them within inches of their life, and leaving them to recover from the folly of having drawn arms against her.

Why did she spare them? The question plagued Aelenta as he finished the last of his bottle with cherry stained lips.