Description
Here amidst the distracting surroundings is the very whisper of an
elven woman. She is taller than the average human, standing roughly
six feet in height. Her lithe body is thin, such that a human man might
be able to put both hands about her waist and easily touch his own
fingertips. Her skin resembles polished alabaster. The smooth complexion
of her face would make many women whose life revolves around beauty
very jealous. Yet, she does not seem haughty or vain in any way, but
very down-to-earth. Her shiny raven-black hair is twisted around into
a loose bun exposing her narrow shoulders and pretty, slender neck.
As you look into her piercing hazel eyes, you can sense her love and
compassion as though it were a physical thing waiting to be grasped.
With a slight smile, she regards you as you do her, but before you
turn away, you take notice of her health and determine that
Role
*a tightly bound scroll addressed to Hanairdra Taerda'lin*
Added Wed Oct 18 18:56:29 2006 at level 13:
Dearest Mother,
I know I left in a hurry, but it felt important that I leave without
a fuss. I didn't want to be talked out of it either. You must be worried
sick and disappointed in me greatly, I would imagine, but there are
some things I must explain. Hopefully this letter will convince you
enough that my intentions are not foolhardy or just silly girlish dreams.
They're not. I believe in what I am doing. Let me also say that I do
not intend to go the way of my father. At least, not completely. I
will concede that what he did was unacceptable and very counter-productive
to his cause, but I can understand his reasons. When he stabbed that
dwarf in the back and labeled him a defiler, he not only ruined his
own future within the community, but yours and mine as well.
Still, I am not upset about that. I am upset that the other elves were
so concerned with appearances and alliances that, as a result of my
father's doings, we were treated as complete outcasts. We were no
longer welcomed in the marketplace, no guildmaster would agree to teach
me, and aside from the handouts the healer's guild proffered us, we
were left destitute and unable to find work. It is good, though, because
we learned greater self-reliance. Where my father is now, I haven't
any clue, but what he left behind was important. Do you remember the
stories he used to tell me as a little girl? Do you remember what they
were about?
The stories he shared were about a proud, noble race whose identity
revolved around nature, the care of the land, and the reverence of
the sacred sun. We were an immortal race, fairest of them all, living
off the land in peace and harmony. Over time, Darsylon grew up. Forests
were cleared so that we could live in buildings. We allowed trade with
other races and started to rely on coin rather than the gifts Thar-Eris
brought us. Thar-Eris, mother, not Thera. Thera is the name of the land
of cities, of destroyed beauty replaced by cold, hard, chiseled stone.
Our proud and noble race has fallen into the trappings of civilization.
Before you think too harshly of me, listen. I revere the sun and worship
in the name of goodness. My father, whether he was sorry or not I may
never know, decided to walk the path of the wood-elves, but that is
not the path for me. It would break my heart to snuff out the light
of another person who holds goodness to be true, even if they were
"misguided". I shall walk the higher path.
But do you see why I had to leave? Before you chalk my actions up to
that of silly girlish dreams, I must tell you... I am a dreamer. I
romanticize the times of old Thar-Eris when our people were fairest
and kindest of them all. Perhaps my father's stories had an influence
on me because I've talked with a guildmaster who will take me as an
apprentice bard. I have learned to sing some songs and they always
fill others with the visions of dreamers. It warms my heart. Since I'm
recognized as an apprentice officially, I will occasionally visit
Darsylon to study more song, but I try to keep away from the cities
as much as possible. I am afraid, too, that if I came to see you, they
might try to take me away. I haven't done anything wrong, but I do
intend to seek a group of people who fight against the flow of civil
*a tightly bound scroll unaddressed*
Added Sat Nov 18 13:37:57 2006 at level 46:
Dearest Mother,
I suppose I shall place this letter at the site of your final rest.
When I heard, months ago, I did not know how to react. I never thought
that you would be taken from me so soon. I should have done.. something.
I could have brought you with me and we could have fought for Thar-Eris
together. Somehow, though, I know that you would have never raised a
hand in violence. That was the way you taught me. Perhaps there is too
much of my father in me. I have, with the greatest and heaviest heart,
struck against those whose actions tend towards goodness. Each time
it has happened, there has been some sort of extenuating circumstance
to lead to it. Sometimes its by accident, and sometimes its because
I am wanted by the law of the cities. It is a demon within myself that
I have to face. It gets hard to sing of dreamy romanticism. Such was
I raised that killing sickens me, even if the person has the darkest
of hearts. The only way I can do it is to drink myself into a stupor,
making everything seem... surreal.
Innis the Sunborn has been a boon to my spirit. Yet, with his leaving
and return, I feel more distant from his presence. It is not as though
I do not hold the reverence of life within me, or the desire to strike
against evil, or even the precepts of the Ancients, but sometimes it
feels as though I fail them all. Perhaps I am not cut out for the ways
of heroes. Can I be brave if I'm too drunk to realize what I'm doing
harms others? Can I be wise if, time and again, I strike against the
Spire and Empire and yet deter none from their wicked paths? These
questions float in my head and I do not know the answers.
It has struck me now that you are dead. I will never be able to feel
the warmth of motherly embrace from you, nor share the secrets that
mothers and daughters are so fond of conspiring with. My heart breaks.
Farewell, mother. Rest well in Thar-Eris' earthy bed. When it is my
time to pass on to the Primeval Dream, I shall leave this world a
better place, as you have exampled for me.
With tears, love, and sorrow,
Chaisse