Post by lucid on Dec 20, 2010 17:43:59 GMT -5
Vow of Propriety: As I am the wordly presence of my Lady's favor, so shall all my works be my Lady's, and Hers all praise and glory.
Vow of Itinerancy: As my Lady rises in a new place every night, so shall my Lady never rise to find me in the place of yesterday's rest.
Vow of Humility: As I am my Lady's servant, so shall I conduct myself, and strive always for her approval.
Vow of Charity: As I serve my Lady's will, so shall I never accept compensation for services given in my Lady's name, and give all in my Lady's service.
Vow of Surety: As my Lady favors those who wander, so shall I offer my shield to any who travel, that my Lady may guide and protect them as She wills.
Origin
Alindra had lived her whole life on the road. One of the gypsy-like caravaneers of the Western Heartlands, her family group plied the roads since the time she was born in the back of a wagon ten miles south of Beregost. It was a simple life, and not overly filled with danger. Every few years an attack would be bad enough to result in casualties, but for the most part the caravaneers were adept at dealing with the hazzards of the road. Until the werewolves came.
They came in the night, of course, under the full moon. The guards were quickly overcome as their steel blades proved unable to harm the beasts. By fortune's grace, a priest of Selûne was travelling with the caravan. But by Fortune's sister's grace, he was camped at the far side of the wagon circle. While many of the families ran to his side for protection, the lycanthropes cut off any such escape for the back few wagons.
The first she knew of any problem was the screaming. Her father, sleeping in his chair, was quick to grab his sword and dash to the wagon's door. But even as he threw it open there came a vicious snarl, and one of the werewolves began trying to force its way in. Alindra quickly jumped from her bunk in her nightclothes, moving forward to grab the crossbow on the wall as her mother and little brother were rousing. But as she did so she passed the small window in the side of the covered wagon. Without warning a furred, clawed arm smashed it inward, striking her and sending her sprawling. She hit the floor, stunned, and tried to get up but couldn't, her side hurt too badly. She glanced down at her nightgown to find it tattered and covered with blood where the claws had grabbed her flesh and torn it savagely.
The world went greytone around her. Shock numbed her mind, she felt nothing, could only observe. She slowly turned her head in time to see her father's sword batted aside and his belly slashed open, watched his long, slow fall to the floor. The creature paused to smile cruelly at her father, then at her, and then it turned hungrily toward the back of the wagon.
As it stepped out of the doorway, it stopped blocking Alindra's view outside. The bottom of the open doorway showed only the next wagon. But above it, framed by its roof and the top of her doorway, the full moon shone calmly in the sky, bathing her in peaceful silver light which clashed horrifically with the screams of terror now rising from her mother and brother. As she felt herself dying, the cold creeping in, she could only look on the moon with a feeling of betrayal more painful than the gaping gash in her side could possibly be. She'd never felt particularly reverent about the moon goddess, or any god for that matter. But she knew this goddess supposedly favored travellers, and one of her own priests was with the group.
"Why?!?" she cried silently, "Why would you allow this? You're a goddess for pity's sake! You could wave a hand and make it all go away, all this nightmare would crumble to dust at your whim! Why would you let this happen to us? I don't even care about myself, but my mother is a good woman! My brother is only a boy! Why won't you save them?? Why?!?"
Whether or not she died then, she would never know. But Selûne was strong in the sky that night, and her attention was already drawn by her priest across the camp. What Alindra knew was that time crawled to a stop around her, the wolf frozen in midstep, her family falling silent and motionless in their beds like insects trapped in amber. Even her own heart sputtered and fell still. There was only the moon in her vision, but it seemed to have faint motion now, like she was looking down upon a dappled pond with an immense holy light shining up from its depths. She felt herself drawn toward it, away from the pain of her body, the loss and grief, the fear of what would befall the others, away from the wagons and the physical world of air and dirt. She found herself before the goddess in all Her splendor, stripped bare and feeling very, very small indeed before this entity, this presence of palpable wisdom so ancient it had seen the birth of the world and gods alike.
What passed between them was not words. It was not language, not repeatable in any truly meaningful way. It was the direct communion of spirits, where thoughts and feelings are transferred whole without need for such crude translation. In a flash she saw such terrible truths as freedom and responsibility, glory and struggle. She saw that this ancient power was not omnipotent at all. She saw that only mortals may tread fully upon this world behind her, that gods and their like may touch the world in ways but to do so is a violation, resisted by reality itself. She saw the symbiosis of god and priest and worshiper, and when her vision expanded to include the struggle among the gods, and its extension down to their worshipers, she almost lost her wits completely in its vast complexity.
But the moon goddess pulled her back, and turned her about to face the wagon she had left behind. The Lady offered her a simple choice...if she wished the moon goddess to touch the world, she must be that touch. And as she looked back upon her frozen body, she was shamed to realize how petty were the words that prompted this meeting, how hurtful and painful they must have been, and how the goddess had taken her up anyway. Yes, she cried with her silent voice, yes I will serve you!
The moon goddess stood beside her, then, looking down at the scene with careworn eyes. She felt awareness wash through her, of what was required, that such service was not simply for Alindra's family, but for all the world who suffered as she did. The vows came fully formed into her mind, waiting for her acceptance. She mourned briefly that in saving her family she would lose them all the same. And yet she knew it was no true loss, and that she would be preventing others from suffering and loss. She turned from the wagon to the goddess, accepted her Lady's vows, and her Lady smiled. The goddess whispered a few brief words...such a simple thing, a small rhyme praising the silver moonlight, the peace of its soft glow, and the blessings of its ancient wisdom. Alindra listened to the strange poem, admiring its beauty but wondering why the goddess chose now as a time for recital. She began to repeat the words...
Then she was surrounded by a shimmering white glow, and her goddess's face retreated, the planet-sized being shrinking away, further and further until it was the normal size of the moon in the sky, and Alindra realized she was in her body, looking up at the moon through the doorway once more. There was no pain in her side, no feeling of cold, she felt as though freshly stepping from a hot, soapy bath. The world resumed its motion, time unsticking and flowing all too quickly again. The words of the poem the goddess had spoken flowed forth from her without thinking, she praised the silver moonlight-
...only it was not language at all. Fluttery syllables of divine magic called forth the Moonmaiden's power, and where Alindra's hand had chanced to lay upon the broken shaft of her crossbow, the three foot long log of shaped wood began glowing brilliantly silver. The glow faded but the mercurial hue remained, like the lump of wood was highly varnished and sat in its own personal spotlight moonbeam. She glanced down at herself, and her gown was still torn and bloody, but her flesh was whole once more. Her hair tumbled into her line of sight, and she was mildly surprised to see it had become as white as polished silver, just like the Lady's. This reminder brought focus. She pushed herself up from the floor, holding the large bludgeon awkwardly.
The wolf thing heard her and turned to face her, arrogant and disdainful. It saw her bloody gown, her makeshift weapon, and clearly thought this a hopeless gesture of defiance. Alindra was not entirely sure it wasn't. That did not change what she knew she must do. It strutted toward her, its face sneering as it smugly did not even move to block her wild, clumsy swing. It had no time to be surprised as the heavy cudgel smashed into its skull and crushed it like an eggshell, driving its already dead body to the floor to twitch spasmodically at her feet. She stood frozen for a moment, her family's screaming cut off in their utter shock. In the silence she heard her father's gurgling gasps behind her, and she quickly turned to him.
The next line of the poem flowed from her lips even as she fell to her knees to tend him. As she spoke the unworldly words describing the peace of the moonlight, a soft white light welled up from her fingers, and his wounds sealed over and closed even before she could examine or bind them. His vitality restored, he looked at her in unflattering disbelief, his pride wounded where her light could not reach by the fact that this teenage girl had protected his family where he had failed. His rage at her for his own helplessness pushed her away like a palpable force. She felt alien, rejected, exiled...her very soul tried to wither away into shadow and dust...
The final line of the Moonmaiden's song slipped out of her as she recoiled on the floor, the ancient wisdom sharpening her thoughts, and a silver glow suffused her skin. She recognized it as a barrier of some kind, a magical shield surrounding her to protect her as she carried out her Lady's will. The despair over her father's anger faded like a wisp of cloud racing across the moon, replaced by the cool purity of purpose. What her father now thought of her was unimportant. I am my Lady's servant,, she thought, and the calm that rode in on that realization flooded her soul with warmth.
A scream pierced the nearby darkness outside, and she rose to face the door with grim determination, gripping her silvery hunk of wood in both hands. She had defended her family, fulfilling her Lady's will and touching the world on Her behalf. But now obligation spurred her onward, and she left her wagon, never to return. Her family was safe...but others were not...
Vow of Itinerancy: As my Lady rises in a new place every night, so shall my Lady never rise to find me in the place of yesterday's rest.
Vow of Humility: As I am my Lady's servant, so shall I conduct myself, and strive always for her approval.
Vow of Charity: As I serve my Lady's will, so shall I never accept compensation for services given in my Lady's name, and give all in my Lady's service.
Vow of Surety: As my Lady favors those who wander, so shall I offer my shield to any who travel, that my Lady may guide and protect them as She wills.
Origin
Alindra had lived her whole life on the road. One of the gypsy-like caravaneers of the Western Heartlands, her family group plied the roads since the time she was born in the back of a wagon ten miles south of Beregost. It was a simple life, and not overly filled with danger. Every few years an attack would be bad enough to result in casualties, but for the most part the caravaneers were adept at dealing with the hazzards of the road. Until the werewolves came.
They came in the night, of course, under the full moon. The guards were quickly overcome as their steel blades proved unable to harm the beasts. By fortune's grace, a priest of Selûne was travelling with the caravan. But by Fortune's sister's grace, he was camped at the far side of the wagon circle. While many of the families ran to his side for protection, the lycanthropes cut off any such escape for the back few wagons.
The first she knew of any problem was the screaming. Her father, sleeping in his chair, was quick to grab his sword and dash to the wagon's door. But even as he threw it open there came a vicious snarl, and one of the werewolves began trying to force its way in. Alindra quickly jumped from her bunk in her nightclothes, moving forward to grab the crossbow on the wall as her mother and little brother were rousing. But as she did so she passed the small window in the side of the covered wagon. Without warning a furred, clawed arm smashed it inward, striking her and sending her sprawling. She hit the floor, stunned, and tried to get up but couldn't, her side hurt too badly. She glanced down at her nightgown to find it tattered and covered with blood where the claws had grabbed her flesh and torn it savagely.
The world went greytone around her. Shock numbed her mind, she felt nothing, could only observe. She slowly turned her head in time to see her father's sword batted aside and his belly slashed open, watched his long, slow fall to the floor. The creature paused to smile cruelly at her father, then at her, and then it turned hungrily toward the back of the wagon.
As it stepped out of the doorway, it stopped blocking Alindra's view outside. The bottom of the open doorway showed only the next wagon. But above it, framed by its roof and the top of her doorway, the full moon shone calmly in the sky, bathing her in peaceful silver light which clashed horrifically with the screams of terror now rising from her mother and brother. As she felt herself dying, the cold creeping in, she could only look on the moon with a feeling of betrayal more painful than the gaping gash in her side could possibly be. She'd never felt particularly reverent about the moon goddess, or any god for that matter. But she knew this goddess supposedly favored travellers, and one of her own priests was with the group.
"Why?!?" she cried silently, "Why would you allow this? You're a goddess for pity's sake! You could wave a hand and make it all go away, all this nightmare would crumble to dust at your whim! Why would you let this happen to us? I don't even care about myself, but my mother is a good woman! My brother is only a boy! Why won't you save them?? Why?!?"
Whether or not she died then, she would never know. But Selûne was strong in the sky that night, and her attention was already drawn by her priest across the camp. What Alindra knew was that time crawled to a stop around her, the wolf frozen in midstep, her family falling silent and motionless in their beds like insects trapped in amber. Even her own heart sputtered and fell still. There was only the moon in her vision, but it seemed to have faint motion now, like she was looking down upon a dappled pond with an immense holy light shining up from its depths. She felt herself drawn toward it, away from the pain of her body, the loss and grief, the fear of what would befall the others, away from the wagons and the physical world of air and dirt. She found herself before the goddess in all Her splendor, stripped bare and feeling very, very small indeed before this entity, this presence of palpable wisdom so ancient it had seen the birth of the world and gods alike.
What passed between them was not words. It was not language, not repeatable in any truly meaningful way. It was the direct communion of spirits, where thoughts and feelings are transferred whole without need for such crude translation. In a flash she saw such terrible truths as freedom and responsibility, glory and struggle. She saw that this ancient power was not omnipotent at all. She saw that only mortals may tread fully upon this world behind her, that gods and their like may touch the world in ways but to do so is a violation, resisted by reality itself. She saw the symbiosis of god and priest and worshiper, and when her vision expanded to include the struggle among the gods, and its extension down to their worshipers, she almost lost her wits completely in its vast complexity.
But the moon goddess pulled her back, and turned her about to face the wagon she had left behind. The Lady offered her a simple choice...if she wished the moon goddess to touch the world, she must be that touch. And as she looked back upon her frozen body, she was shamed to realize how petty were the words that prompted this meeting, how hurtful and painful they must have been, and how the goddess had taken her up anyway. Yes, she cried with her silent voice, yes I will serve you!
The moon goddess stood beside her, then, looking down at the scene with careworn eyes. She felt awareness wash through her, of what was required, that such service was not simply for Alindra's family, but for all the world who suffered as she did. The vows came fully formed into her mind, waiting for her acceptance. She mourned briefly that in saving her family she would lose them all the same. And yet she knew it was no true loss, and that she would be preventing others from suffering and loss. She turned from the wagon to the goddess, accepted her Lady's vows, and her Lady smiled. The goddess whispered a few brief words...such a simple thing, a small rhyme praising the silver moonlight, the peace of its soft glow, and the blessings of its ancient wisdom. Alindra listened to the strange poem, admiring its beauty but wondering why the goddess chose now as a time for recital. She began to repeat the words...
Then she was surrounded by a shimmering white glow, and her goddess's face retreated, the planet-sized being shrinking away, further and further until it was the normal size of the moon in the sky, and Alindra realized she was in her body, looking up at the moon through the doorway once more. There was no pain in her side, no feeling of cold, she felt as though freshly stepping from a hot, soapy bath. The world resumed its motion, time unsticking and flowing all too quickly again. The words of the poem the goddess had spoken flowed forth from her without thinking, she praised the silver moonlight-
...only it was not language at all. Fluttery syllables of divine magic called forth the Moonmaiden's power, and where Alindra's hand had chanced to lay upon the broken shaft of her crossbow, the three foot long log of shaped wood began glowing brilliantly silver. The glow faded but the mercurial hue remained, like the lump of wood was highly varnished and sat in its own personal spotlight moonbeam. She glanced down at herself, and her gown was still torn and bloody, but her flesh was whole once more. Her hair tumbled into her line of sight, and she was mildly surprised to see it had become as white as polished silver, just like the Lady's. This reminder brought focus. She pushed herself up from the floor, holding the large bludgeon awkwardly.
The wolf thing heard her and turned to face her, arrogant and disdainful. It saw her bloody gown, her makeshift weapon, and clearly thought this a hopeless gesture of defiance. Alindra was not entirely sure it wasn't. That did not change what she knew she must do. It strutted toward her, its face sneering as it smugly did not even move to block her wild, clumsy swing. It had no time to be surprised as the heavy cudgel smashed into its skull and crushed it like an eggshell, driving its already dead body to the floor to twitch spasmodically at her feet. She stood frozen for a moment, her family's screaming cut off in their utter shock. In the silence she heard her father's gurgling gasps behind her, and she quickly turned to him.
The next line of the poem flowed from her lips even as she fell to her knees to tend him. As she spoke the unworldly words describing the peace of the moonlight, a soft white light welled up from her fingers, and his wounds sealed over and closed even before she could examine or bind them. His vitality restored, he looked at her in unflattering disbelief, his pride wounded where her light could not reach by the fact that this teenage girl had protected his family where he had failed. His rage at her for his own helplessness pushed her away like a palpable force. She felt alien, rejected, exiled...her very soul tried to wither away into shadow and dust...
The final line of the Moonmaiden's song slipped out of her as she recoiled on the floor, the ancient wisdom sharpening her thoughts, and a silver glow suffused her skin. She recognized it as a barrier of some kind, a magical shield surrounding her to protect her as she carried out her Lady's will. The despair over her father's anger faded like a wisp of cloud racing across the moon, replaced by the cool purity of purpose. What her father now thought of her was unimportant. I am my Lady's servant,, she thought, and the calm that rode in on that realization flooded her soul with warmth.
A scream pierced the nearby darkness outside, and she rose to face the door with grim determination, gripping her silvery hunk of wood in both hands. She had defended her family, fulfilling her Lady's will and touching the world on Her behalf. But now obligation spurred her onward, and she left her wagon, never to return. Her family was safe...but others were not...