Description
The young elf before you is more shepherd than warrior.His worn leather
tunic is patched and simple, his clothes are that of pastoral watch,
inelegant yet functional. A carved medallion of a wooden sheep hangs at his
neck, and his spring-green eyes carry a deep thoughtfulness, yet tight from
concern and worry. His hands are callused as they carry the crook of his
staff. He moves still with a quiet grace, speaking softly, listening
carefully, unflinching but wary of the danger which lurks. Though unassuming
in appearance, he moves about with courageously.
Role
Day One.
Added Tue Nov 11 21:31:00 2025 at level 36:
The sun set low on the horizon, fading from brilliant light to a welcoming haze of
reds and yellows. A breeze blew across the open plains and the fields of grain bent
beneath its light touch, the golden stalks dancing lightly under the setting sun
like waves upon a golden ocean. Mesmerized, the youthful elf watched it unfold,
unmoving for a time as the warmth of the sun washed over him.
Picking up his shepherd's crook, he returned to his duties, diligent and grateful
of his pastoral life. He gathered his small flock of thirteen gentle sheep and led them
to the safety of their paddock near the mountain footsteps of his family home.
With all of the sheep safely accounted for, the young elf took to his patrol around
the outskirts of the farm. A soft crying caught his ear, and where the mountain
boulders began to grow he found a coyote pup caught in thistle and stone. Though no
danger to him, he hesitated, carefully considering, before he helped free the pup
that it might find its way away. He smiled at this small act of mercy and continued
on with his patrol of the outer boundaries.
As the sun slipped below the western horizon and only the light of the moon illuminated
his way, the quiet crunch of debris stopped him in his silent tracks. A small figure,
about half his size, wandered between the fields of grain and mountain stone. Gripping
his staff tightly in his hands, he saw the pointed ears of the figure from behind. He
sneaked nearer the child. Was it an elf, lost from the vale of Arendyl?
The figure turned and the truth was made known to him. Goblin. But a goblin child
only, seemingly lost and alone. He stalked it for some time beneath the light of the
moon as the goblin wandered aimlessly.
Eventually, he let it go, for he was far from the farm at the mountain's edge, and he
returned home. Settling in for the night, he fell asleep peacefully, pleased with
himself for his courage triumphing over his fear. Mercy won the day.
Day Two.
Added Tue Nov 11 21:32:28 2025 at level 36:
The young elf arose before the sun began its ascent. Readying himself for another
day in the pastures, he put on his humble attire. His family did not take to Darsylon
much, having left generations ago for a quieter, simpler life, one unencumbered by the
intrigues of the Palace, prestige, and even academia. Instead, they lived a pastoral
life, one which daily reminded them how much they had by how much they did not, an
ascetic life of simplicity.
From the morning chores, to his meditations, and a plain meal of honeyed lembas, there
was no indulgence for the young elf. He was no Moriate or Morian, as they liked to
quietly jest.
As the sun began to touch the realm, the elf left the small homestead to again tend
the pastures with his sheep. Gathering his crook and a few possessions, he noticed a
few things out of sort and clumsily knocked askew outside the shed. Kneeling to inspect
the ground, he noticed very clearly the same footprints he witnessed last eve.
The goblin child returned.
The sheep began to bah and bay as they noticed him, but his focus was elsewhere. He
scouted about beyond where the footprints disappeared around the cottage, and there
upon its toes the goblin child peered through the small window.
Cautiously, the young elf crept behind it and with the crook of his shepherd staff
pulled it by the neck to the ground. The frightened goblin frightened even the
young elf and the two startled but stared at each other in surprise for some time.
In the suspense of it all, with the elf seemingly paralyzed with uncertainty, the
rascal goblin threw down some sort of mechanism that hissed and exploded in a cloud
of smoke, and there it made its escape.
The young elf stepped from the smoke, his eyes burning, but deeper yet burned the
cowardice within him.
Day Three.
Added Tue Nov 11 21:33:28 2025 at level 36:
With an uneventful morning and the prior day's events behind him, the youthful elf
took again to his duties and tended the sheep as they grazed further from home.
Morning turned to noon, and noon to evening, and nothing stirred but the quiet wind
for him to bask amongst the amber waves of grain in thanksgiving. His fear, and
his failure, were behind him, and the busyness of responsibility took priority.
The breeze picked up, from the east, and the faint smell of smoke tugged at his
nostrils, rousing him from his quiet meditations. The scent grew stronger, but
the setting sun hid any sight of smoke. He wondered if travelers from Tir perhaps
camped nearby with a fire for the night. But something yet bothered him as he gathered
the flock of sheep to return home.
More quickly than usual he shepherded them through the rolling hills away from the
mountain steps, and as the plains opened up along the horizon, his heart fell.
Far in the distance fires burned tall against the night sky backdrop. It was his
home, and many fires raged. Rushing as fast as he could, he was not fast enough.
Goblin and orc prints were clear in the fire's light, and even more clear were the
burning husks of his family smoldering. Limbs ripped, and his father's head upon a
pike, the homestead had been pillaged while he was away. His heart sank and he wept
through his anger and grief, for he was undone.
Day Four.
Added Tue Nov 11 21:34:16 2025 at level 36:
They found him the next morning, still, upon the ground. Charred remnants of the
cottage smoldering had alerted some from Tir, and then Voralia, and they came out of
the goodness of their own to assess and help. But it was devastating.
A ranger helped scour the ground, examining the tracks and prints, it was eleven,
no twelve, wait, a small goblin's prints were also found, thirteen, which came upon
his home and marauded.
Such stirred the young elf from his misery. A goblin child? How foolish he felt,
the fault of irresponsibility to his duty. He had to see, to know.
Compelling the ranger to help take him, the two set out to track and stalk the horde.
They were not far and it took little time for the expert tracker to find the orcs and
goblins holed up in one of the shallow caves at the edge of the mountains. From afar,
the elf could see them as they rifled through his family's belongings of small trinkets,
a few pieces of his mother's simple jewelry, children's toys which once belonged to
him and his sister, some meager things from the kitchen. There was little of any value
to the marauders, but deep down he knew that it wasnt greed which compelled them, but
hatred, a desire to inflict misery upon others.
And then, there it was, the goblin child, pawing at the wooden carving he had made for
his father long ago. His father had always found great joy in it, though the young elf
did not know what he was even making, the stubby round figurine took on the appearance
of something like a thick gnome. 'Fortune's Smile' his father always used to remark as
he handled the carving.
The regret grieved the elf.
It was his fault, his caution had turned aside his courage, and now all was lost.
Retribution came not this day, and he and the ranger turned back from the horde.
Day Five.
Added Thu Nov 13 09:15:17 2025 at level 37:
With no home to return to, the young elf made his way south and east to Voralia.
He had only been through the Shining City once before as his family tended to
remain around the outpost of Tir. He marveled at the beauty of the city, how
the triumvirate and Voralian Order kept such a peaceful and clean city.
But there was work to be done here, too. Coming across an urchin, the young
elf felt mercy again at the resemblance of him and the young child. Though he
had little himself in his grave loss, he gave what he had generously.
He wandered the streets more, giving what he had until he had only enough for
his own last meal. There before him begged a vagrant. As he went to give
to this soiled teenager, he noticed the avarice in the vagrant's eyes, the
lack of shared values, when suddenly the vagrant teen gnashed his teeth and
flung himself toward the elf, trying to grab at his knapsack and coin pouch.
Reacting quickly, the young elf swung his shepherds crook down and around the
neck of the vagrant, slamming and pinning the vile teen to the stone road.
Swift in its own way, the vagrant produced a small dagger from the fold of his
tattered robe and tried to lunge again at the elf. This time, without delay,
the elf used the crook of his staff to twist and snap the neck of the vagrant.
There is mercy even in retribution. As the guards came near, they assessed the
situation clearly, and took up the lifeless remains to be buried outside of
town.
Witnessing the fracas, a crone-knight kept her stern eyes upon the elf. She
leaned on her massive sword. 'Many would run from that vagrant. Even more
would show no kindness to the urchin. But not you, for you remain virtuous
in a darkening world,' she spoke to him. Come, tell me of yourself, for
I see your light still shines with courage. she said, welcoming him into the
Hall of the Voralian Templars. 'I am Nicollete, guardian of this place, and
more. And your name, who are you?'
The young elf hesitated, but not out of any uncertainty. 'I, I am Semyarel.'
Day Six.
Added Tue Nov 25 14:26:32 2025 at level 41:
Semyarel knelt under the shining steel pillars at the Great Square of the Phoenix
and scrubbed, scrubbed, scrubbed. His hands trembled, the bones in his knees
cried out in pain, and sweat undignified him under the heat of the noon sun.
The pillars, the fountain, the steps, all of it shined bright by his tireless
efforts to clean it up. He could not remember how many buckets of water and lyme
he had gone through in his endeavor to meticulously clean it up at the behest
of Nicollette.
She stood further down the street though, watching, a tight smile at her face, and
he wondered if she smiled at his torture, the progress, or simply having new blood
within her guild to mold and teach. She soon walked over to him and there was no
disappointment upon her face.
'Semyarel, my brother, do you know why it is I have you take such a chore?' she
inquired. He did not, his tired face clearly communicated without a word. 'Consider
Voralia, it is known as the shining city. Yet it does not shine on its own, does
it?' she asked rhetorically.
'Each day it is tarnished. By the sins of the shadow. By the grime of the world.
And yes, even by the imperfections of each of us in this guild. Like you cultivated
your farmland for the harvest, so too must we cultivate the realm. And ourselves.
With fire and righteous fury. With generosity, kindness, and patience. Be temperant
in deed, but live again, Semyarel. Purification begins within and is expressed
without. Be humble in the Code of our guild and the light will see you well.'
'Arise, brother, it is time you enter this world, anew again, as a paladin.'
She bid him come, returning to the guild, that a new path begin.
Day Seven.
Added Tue Nov 25 14:35:43 2025 at level 41:
The seventh day dawned and Semyarel found true rest for the first time since the loss
of his family, farm, and way of life.
Peace was near him, and the memories of joy not so distant any longer.
PK Wins
Nov 25, 2025|Lv 41|The Citadel of Ostalagiah|Vuxa vs 1: [41] Semyarel (100%, kick)
Nov 29, 2025|Lv 41|The Eastern Road|Ymstrecca vs 2: [49] Mhurrea (20%, claw), [41] Semyarel (79%)
Nov 30, 2025|Lv 44|The Galadon Sewers|Rhodrae vs 1: [44] Semyarel (100%, heavenly wrath)
PK Deaths
Nov 25, 2025|Lv 41|Fortress of Light|vs 1: [50] Vuxa (100%, pierce)