Description
Fierce and honed like the toughest of bark, before you stands a female
wood-elf slight of frame and misleadingly delicate in stature. While no
youthful, she has a timeless beauty about her that can not be easily
explained. Despite her small size, her eyes burn with a fierce fire
that belies and adds a strange contradiction to the overall sense of
wisdom and serenity that exudes amidst her aura of power.
Her skin is a rustic tan that seems to speak of a century worth of
sunny days spent beneath the skies. Her hair however is as dark as
the deepest of night skies and grows as eternally as the raven's call.
Left uncombed and unattended, it flows about her with a will of its own
that can only be matched by this wood-elf's boundless spirit.
Her clothes are a mixture of odd sorts, combining things found in far
off lands. Her wrists and hair are wrapped in ivy, garnished with exotic
flowers both beautiful and deadly, common and alien. They hint at travels
to an uncomprehensible array of forests, mountains, and tundras from
the deep Pine Forests to the Gorges of Hardan Wood.
Around her neck hangs the only other and obviously most significant of
all her posessions: a wood-carved medallion etched to show an ornate mandala
surrounded by the maiden, the mother, and the crone...the latter of which
stands at the top in the seemingly even circle of three. When the medallion
moves even the slightest, a raven can be seen ever watchful among its lone
vigil on the medallions backside. Like the wood-elf who wears it, the wood
is old and surely nearing a millenium in age, having been both fashioned and
placed around the neck of this near thousand old priestess at the time that
orcish war drums beat and crawled forth in their adaptations. It seems
without question, that it will remain there along with this wood-elf for
some time yet to come.
Role
Call of the Cycle (Part 3)
Added Sat Jun 24 16:41:05 2006 at level 51:
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From darkness she stepped into swampy jungle terrain. Curiously she looked
about, for here surely was an Outlander ambush. Deadfalls hung in place with
a labyrinth of snares and traps. Like the sun and moon, outward stepped two
elves so very different. Each came with a grace benevolent and sinister as
the Elf Fieldsithian and Dark-Elf Ilimya stepped forth from the hidden
deadfalls.
She tilted her head saying, "This is a remarkable ambush! Who would need
such a combination of traps and snares?" Oddly, the often joyful Fielstithian
did not smile at all and Ilimya drew forth his daggers and said, "You wait
too long Harbinger. Can you not hear the call of the cycle? Why do you
resist it? Does even Amaranthe have the right to keep you from it so long?"
With unmistakable sadness, Fielstithian only stated, "It is for you we wait
Aeria my friend."
She tilted her head saying, "This is a remarkable ambush! Who would need
such a combination of traps and snares?" Oddly, the often joyful Fielstithian
did not smile at all and Ilimya drew forth his daggers and said, "You wait
too long Harbinger. Can you not hear the call of the cycle? Why do you
resist it? Does even Amaranthe have the right to keep you from it so long?"
With unmistakable sadness, Fielstithian only stated, "It is for you we wait
Aeria my friend."
Aeria shook her head in denial, for there was much to left undone for
Amaranthe. As she sought to escape, deadfall after deadfall was released,
and the elves stalked on relentlessly. Suddenly a swampy smell rose up and
with a buzz of insects her spine shivered in horror. She desperately sought
to escape but wherever she ran a wall of tangled briars and thorns rose
around her, cutting off escape.Refusing to look behind, she waited for the
voice she knew would follow the swampy smell and insect buzz. "Must make
death! Must return swamps! Death to Aeria as agreed, Yes!?" the voice of
Morasfenmire coldly rasped behind her. Down she was pulled into swamps that
would be a tomb. The descent seemed timeless and endless and as she was
pulled under she stared into the sky with a calm that only comes from a
lifetime of dealing and being dealt of death.
There against the backdrop of a nights sky on a gnarled jungle branch, a
raven watched her, tilting its head inquisitively. Behind it a shooting star
streaked the sky. With a small nod, Aeria Starblaze whispered to Amaranthe
and all was as it once was.
--'--,--'--,--'--,--'--,--'--,--'--,--'--,--'--,--'--,--'--,--'--,--'--,--'--
<100%hp 100%m 100%mv 5020tnl (26.61%)> indoor civilized 4 AM
The Crone lowers her gnarled crook and leaning her burdens upon it again,
whispers, 'Born under the Scythe of the Goddess as you may be, you still seem
young, and soft. Are you certain you are able to take upon the burdens of an
old crone at so young an age?'
<100%hp 100%m 100%mv 5020tnl (26.61%)> indoor civilized 4 AM
The Crone lifts up her gnarled cook with a shaky hand, poking you in the ribs
as she whispers 'You do not weep for loss, Aeria. Loss simply is part of the
Cycle. You merely accept it, or avenge it.'
<100%hp 100%m 100%mv 5020tnl (26.61%)> indoor civilized 5 AM
The Crone whispers 'We shall see if you are strong enou
Call of the Cycle (Part 2)
Added Sat Jun 24 16:33:07 2006 at level 51:
*****************************************************
When she woke to the depths of the damned, it was not as she expected.
Grayness, everwhere. The horizon stretched on endlessly from dull gray skies
to dull gray landscape.And alone in it all walked one figure whom Aeria had
known as Kaisse. Onward he walked seeming to accept where he was going and
where he had come from.Little deviation was there to his path as he walked
onward forever on the gray planes that surrounded him. Approaching him was
not difficult for his course was predictable. "Why do you walk on and on
among this gray plane with no end in sight? Have you no salvations? Why
resist you the calls of the cycle?" Kaisse hardly stirred as he whispered
only, "Do not mention the Ghosts. There are no choices, only fate. If this
is my fate I will walk it."
Grimly Aeria watched his progress and wondered if indeed it was without end
when suddenly she saw torches of flame among cliffs to the side. She looked
to Kaisse quickly, but he seemed not to notice. Wasting no time, she headed
in that direction.
As she approached, the drumbeats were deafening. Early memories of her life
flashed up before her and she thought back to the war drums of the swarming
orcs and their adaptive training. There on the crest of the hill stood vile
orcs, be they legendary or the most skulking. She saw among them faces she
recognized. Xzarg, Trelant, and Tuga. Grummtokk, Googee, Monglu, and
Skarthoz. Even the ferocious Brindobrack whom had been so cunning for an
orc! They stared at her hungrily and their grins were undaunted. This made
no sense...was she not once the Breaker of the Grinning Skull? Suddenly, she
realized that thousands of torches lined their ways down the lands around her
stretching far to her sides and circling behind. This was not just the
Grinning Skull!Hundreds of thousands of orcs surrounded her from tribes
unheard of!
Suddenly another was at her side and Aeria look to see Laenelis of the Molten
Circle, Damned by Grurk, standing there next to her. Fingering his fire
seeds and with a fire malison on his lips, Laenelis stared at the orcs with
anger in his eyes. Looking with his green eyes into Aeria's eyes, he said so
much as he had often done with just a look and little spoken word. It was a
look that said we are surrounded and will not survive this. But when he
spoke, Laenelis simply stated, "Laenelis thinks Aeria should not be here."
Behind the waves of orcs stood other damned who watched as the first of the
orcs charged on. So many shadow faces unrecognizable, but was that not
Cuucqa, Gharahka, and even Niazuruzain biding their time? As she and
Laenelis spun in crescent circles, they released spray after spray of fire
seeds and orcs fell in waves. Shillelaghs brought to bare, any orc who got
to close was brought down with simple bludgeoned savagery. A bit of hope
entered into Aeria's thoughts as she began to wonder if they could not
continue this endless fight as long as was needed in this land of the
endlessly damned.
Suddenly the wind stirred where there was no wind. A touch at the knape of
her neck with a carress that beckoned to her with a lovers touch. A kiss so
gentle that one nearly cried at the sorrow and finality of it. Amidst the
Kiss
Call of the Cycle (Part 1)
Added Sat Jun 24 16:26:52 2006 at level 51:
*****************************************************
Pass hierophants she walked, deeper into the Holy Grove through which she had
so often journeyed. Again she shook her head, yet the whispering voices
remained calling and beckoning her. She could not distinguish from those
voices benevolent and malevolent and they joined in chorus assaulting her
from a million directions as she begin to run through the ancient grove. Her
soul tugged and pulled, her spirit was dragged toward something unseen as if
caught in a rip tide that constantly pulled at her.
Running, she scrambled over trees and unders branches, falling and hitting
hard on a rock.Shaking off her fall and blow, she slowly got up. She
turned to her bearded giant for help and there stood not her companion, but
Thrugald whom long ago had parted. Overcoming astonishment was difficult and
suddenly with a simple, "Harumm", he turned and ran with massive strives
deeper into the Holy Grove.
Struggling to match pace with his long and deliberate strides, she knew he
was lost when she broke into a glade that was as beautiful as it was peaceful
with no sign of Thrugald to be found.. Yet there before her lounged two
friends, both long ago and recently departed. Aeria shook her head in
rejection of what could not be as Tredyn and Bolen smiled in joy at her
arrival.
"This can not be! You have departed and must return to the Cycle!" she
stated.With a yawn, Bolen simply smiled and layed back, muttering something
about lack of nymphs tonight but still needing sleep. Tredyn, on the other
hand, stared at her with a wry smile that would not relent. "For many this
is true Aeria Starblaze, but it is here for us, that Innis gives us respite.
Do you not remember well the depths of hell and the powers immortal who
interfere?"
Suddenly the tranquil peace of the glade was shattered and the cries of a
Maran War Party pierced the air, "We are close, the wicked forest witch is
this way!" Aeria spun around seeking the direction of the voices that
outnumbered her. Turning to the Bards of Innis she said, "We must prepare,
they will be here soon!" Yet the wry smile faded from Tredyn's face as he
said simply, "It is not our fight, Aeria. Later we will speak with the
dwarves and maran and hope they better understand our ways." And with that
he simply turned away as Bolen sank more deeply into his bed of leaves.
Into the clearing broke three whom Aeria could not forget. Leading the
charge like an Avalanche came Alriac, eyes focused and his charge prepared
for Aeria. Stalking behind him, eyes determined and face grim, came the
fierce Gryshilniar. And last behind the two warriors came Brinrok who
against seemed to be screaming."She is all that is wicked! Burn her so
that innocents may live and the world be less evil!" Gasping, Aeria turned
and fled yet whenever she began to use her superior pathfinding to escape
farther away, Brinrok would utter a prayer and back she would be summoned
into the charging crush of Alriac. Yet she must try to escape!Again she
ran, and again she was summoned back and thrown down! Gryshilniar stared on
grimly, escape unattainable. When all seemed loss, a nightgaunt dove with
horrible speed from the evening air and snatched her up and into the sky in
its inesc
A Glimmer of Moonlight Amidst Darkness
Added Fri Feb 3 00:35:33 2006 at level 51:
We are all caught up in the Cycle. It exists all around us. It is the Cycle
that proceeds are past and it is the Cycle that will succeed our future. All
endings that will come, give way again to new beginnings. Throughout this
Cycle are we, the spirits, who travel its neverending flow in meandering
paths. How often have enemies tried to argue that this is the binding of
order? But if such is true are we also order-bound for our need to breathe?
The cycle is vast, its flow the most expansive of raging rivers, and the
journeys to be found endless for the spirits who tread these unexplored
grounds.
From the most wicked of spirits to the most benevolent, we are taught that
all spirits will once again enter the Cycle. It is in this that the most
wicked of spirits are brought to an end, for in their culling will new
beginnings be found, perhaps far for the better. Yet those such as the
Anti-Paladins will seek to bind souls, albeit only a portion, into their foul
weapons of war.All my life have I seen this as a great evil, but now I have
come to realize a more Divine threat that interjects itself into the Cycle.
The Infernal Planes of Hell is a place of unimaginable sadness for those who
understand the Cycle. What powers are here that so completely hold from the
Cycle these spirits and are they truly condemned for eternity? Few evils
have I seen in this world more horrid that the binding of such spirits, no
matter how good or evil to this infernal afterworld. What is the power of
these Arch-Devils that possesses such strength?As I descend again in
journeys to come into this Hellish world, I know it is beyond me to free all
the spirits in these vast Circles. Yet the strength of Amaranthe is great
and my faith does not waver.
During my first journey into the Circles of Hell did Moonreaper light my way.
A gift of the ancients, it was a blessed light. How many ages had passed
while these bound souls had long since forgotten the memory of moonlight? Do
even the most wicked of spirits deserve such a fate? Inevitably as we
mortals were brought down by the Arch-Devils, it was lost on the Fourth
Circle "In the Darkness." A small glimmer of moonlight in a world of dark
night, where the bound souls know none. Perhaps such a sight was worth it to
the trapped spirits of that place, for they likely needed its soft light far
more than I. Gone now is it from the encompassing darkness as the world
turns. Many would despair in this, but I do not. The Ancient Innis told me
it had returned to the breast of Amaranthe. In this is found a blessed
lesson. I hold in faith that Amaranthe will take care of all her children
and such a world as these Hells is not a place for those free spirits such as
I. In the end we to will return to the breast of Amaranthe, if only for a
time, before we free spirits again begin anew in the Cycle.
I will be strong of spirit and survive these journeys into these depths if
only to better understand the Evil that so holds at bay these spirits, torn
from the Cycle. If into the bottom of the depths does my strength prevail,
it will not be seek out power or glory from this Dark Power as so many do.
Nay, it will be to look into the eyes of this vile power so great as to steal
spirits from the Cycle. M
A Moments Pause Among the Hunt
Added Sun Jan 8 22:42:47 2006 at level 45:
A moments pause among the hunt,
To thoughts of childhood does she drift.
Unblooded days where she danced and sung,
And little was that seemed amiss.
Yet the rose must grow the needed thorn,
And the young cub claws that soon must rake.
Amaranthe's hard young priestess she,
Blood and talon for Thar-Eris's sake.
Into the fray a priestess must venture,
Rivers of blood the scythe must lay bare.
Defilers put down, the cost is so small...
Blood of the cycle, her own must she share.
Aeria Starblaze
Added Tue Dec 13 23:22:48 2005 at level 6:
Aeria Starblaze, so named was the child of two wood-elves to whom she was
conceived on that night of omens and signs. On that night of conception,
Aeria's life spark began amidst the star showers that roared across the night
skies and over the dark untouched woods of her parents.So did nature let
one such falling star kiss the land that night before burning out, setting
the ground ablaze in a reminder of nature's fury.
Aeria Starblaze was born the daughter of her mother, a ranger particularly
gifted in animal empathy, and her father, a bard who was a greatly educated
ambassador for the wood-elves to the encroaching cities.
From her mother, Aeria's empathy and gifts towards nature were to be witnesed
at an early age. She seemed as able and willing to play and communicate with
the surrounding animals as with her wood-elf companions. Trained in the
basic necessities of woodland survival by her ranger mother, Aeria's
instincts and appreciation for nature grew greater than was even to be
expected among the nature loving wood-elves.
From her father, chosen ambassador of the wood-elves and bard, Aeria gained
rare characteristics for a wood-elf. Learned and trained in words and grace,
Aeria has the capacity to communicate fluently and is gifted with words, but
only those who seek to know her truly can see this beyond her wild tendencies
and upbringing. This alone is all that Aeria carries from her father, as she
struggles to not make the same decisions she sees as mistakes made in his
lifetime.
Though Aeria might seem as fierce and fiery as a wild creature, she posesses
the capacity for refinery if she so chooses. This is but one of many
struggling characteristics between the differences in her parents'
contribution to her upbringing.
If asked, Aeria would greatly prefer to follow in the steps of her mother
whom she sees as remaining true to nature. Aeria's father in the rare
position of ambassador from the wood-elves sought, perhaps in the race's
desperation, to work out co-existance with the encroaching city of Udgaard.
Despite all his efforts, promises made, deals reached, much of his work led
to few of the wood-elves surviving, Aeria's parents among them, when Udgaard
took their lands by force in their ongoing expansion. From it Aeria learned
of the mistakes and futility with dealing with established order so lost from
the old ways of the land.
Aeria seeks out to learn more in the ways of Amaranthe. She accepts in
pragmatism, and what she hopes is wisdom gained early in life, the need to
bring death to those who will not return to the old ways of the land. She
seeks to not fail where her father has by seeking treaties and compromise
with the bastions of order.
Her love for nature comes to her easily, and all the gifts that nature has
provided. She holds grudging hope and respect for the rural civilizations of
man whom live lifes of co-existance through co-dependancy with the land, but
struggles constantly to remain faithful that they also won't eventually
sprawl into the cities that are a scourge upon the land.