Post by grokan on May 11, 2007 0:48:51 GMT -5
An elf can be seen for quite some time, just staring at a blank piece of parchment. She isn't the most beautiful elf, but not ugly either, having red hair that matches the fire in her eyes that can be seen whenever she goes into battle.
An old, rusted sword hilt is set beside the parchment. Seemingly out of place on the rusted hilt are set three perfect diamonds, seemingly untouched by the age which it has obviously taken to rust the steel of the hilt. The elf keeps staring at the sword hilt, and it seems a tear almost comes to her eye when she looks at it. But then she looks back to the parchment, and ink set beside it. The quill in her hand has been dipped many times, but not a mark has been made on the parchment.
She dips the quill one last time before finally setting the quill to the parchment and beginning to write.
Alaria Willowleaf is my name. I am a warrior. Or at least, I thought I was.
She takes another long look at the sword hilt before continuing.
I constantly question what possessed me to become a warrior. I guess I just wanted to be strong. To protect those I care about. So that I would never have to watch someone I care about pass from this life while breath still remained in me. But life is cruel, and forces harsh lessons on any ambition.
Another look at the sword, and she sighs. She looks like she's about to give it up, stop writing, and go do something else, but she just relaxes back into the chair and takes the quill again. She resumes writing.
I guess I should start at the beginning. I arrived in Cormyr from Evermeet, and was stopped at the border of Cormyr. I was told that to enter Cormyr as an adventurer, I was to buy an adventuring charter. Of course, most of the coin I had I had spent to get this far, and so I had to perform a few chores to earn the coin for the charter. The outpost was having problems with a goblin infestation in a forest, and I was to first thin their ranks, and then to defeat their chief in battle. No small task, but not beyond my abilities. Having earned my charter, I entered Cormyr into the sleepy border town of Isinhold.
It seemed Isinhold had no shortage of small tasks for a strong sword-arm to perform. The cellar of the inn was infested with rats, and even further in, lycanthrope rats. Neither was particularly a challenge for me, though I had to wonder at the hardiness of the lycanthropes. They seemed to simply shrug off some blows from my naginata I had at the time. Other blows sunk deep, though, and I managed to sever something vital.
Sam was happy to know that his rat problem had been taken care of for the moment, and I mentioned to him that he might want to get some cats to keep it that way. He was estatic to receive his key back, which had been missing for some time. That chore done, I went on to others. The farm on the edge of town had its own problem. A giant white rat was breeding at an alarming rate, and needed to be taken care of. The tail of the rat proved adequate proof that the deed had been done. Some of my elven cousins had been taken prisoner by hobgoblins, and needed to be freed. The elves were all too happy to give me their slave tokens they had received from the hobgoblins to identify them, as proof to Aviel that they were happily free. Hashard had a terrible habit of dropping his amulet into the well, and every time he did, there was a crab that would wander off with its shiny treasure. The crab needed a little "convincing" that it should part with the amulet before it was returned, once again, to Hashard.
I did not always adventure alone, however. I met some great friends. Annie Rift, a human priestess with almost elven ears. She was a wonderful friend, always happy to go to one or another place to adventure. Shabba Wryn, the hin... there isn't a scout I would rather have watching my back... or the backs of my enemies. Abby Winters, another human priestess, whose healing skill using mundane bandages and salves is unmatched, her magical healing abilities only augmenting a skill and compassion that had no equal. I wish I could list more, but time and ink is short, and I have much more to write.
As my skills grew, I wandered into more and more dangerous areas. The kobolds kept a den to the south of Isinhold, and their numbers routinely needed thinning out. The undead in the crypt of Isinhold constantly got restless, and at one point I finally discovered why, with the help of a pair of good friend. There was a vampire child that kept its coffin deep within the crypt. We drove it back to its coffin, and drove a stake through its heart to end its unlife forever.
At some point, I met the best thing that has ever happened to me. My love, Entori. We were both shy, and it took us a considerable amount of time, but after some time we could no longer deny what both our hearts were telling us, and we have been together since. I wish that I could spend the rest of my life with him. But life as an elf reckons it is long, and we may both change in the millenia we may both live. That doesn't keep me from being happy about what we both share for now, though.
I'll spare you the details of my many adventures since. There is one that sticks out in my mind, though. Entori had been searching for three flawless diamonds apparently since he met me, and at one point had gathered the three. He had let me on to what he had planned for me, and I had been saving as well for the expertly crafted sword that would be used as the base for "Willowbite". But the enchantment Entori had planned required fairly expensive components to imbue in a sword, so with the base sword in hand, I and Entori set out to earn the gold for the components.
In a way, even though Entori did the imbue, the resulting sword was a product of both our endeavors... a symbol of the time we had spent together to create it, and the love we shared. "Willowbite", a sword forged of love and devotion.
And then Willowbite broke.
It was my own carelessness, really, that caused the destruction of the blade. I had travelled to the haunted Zorastryl estate with some friends on an errand from a man in the Regal Griffon Inn. I could not have been prepared for the monster that had appeared before us.
I had heard stories of Rust Monsters before, but had never seen one. I just knew they were bad news... able to eat anything metal, no matter what kind of metal, and no matter how powerfully enchanted that metal was. I didn't see the creature at furst... only sensed it as it rushed past me to attack my companion. And so I swung, sensing only ill intent to one I was intent on protecting.
The creature must have heard me move, for the moment I started my swing, it turned and caught my sword in its jaws. Rust spread from where it bit, and my sword was consumed in an instant. I am glad I am in the habit of wearing leather gloves, or the spreading rust may have consumed my armor as well. After it was done, I was left holding the hilt of what had once been a very powerful sword.
The elf looked again at the sword hilt, and a tear falls from her eyes before she can continue writing.
I was devastated. How could a sword full of so much meaning just be destroyed like that? It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And yet it was. The symbol of love, of devotion, of the time that Entori and I had spent together and the trials we had shared to create the blade. And the blade was completely destroyed.
Entori assures me that it doesn't matter. That Willowbite can be forged anew. I wish I could believe him. By allowing the blade to be destroyed, no matter the reason, I have betrayed our love. Our love has been symbolically destroyed.
I cannot any longer continue my adventures as I have been. I cannot protect those I care about... I cannot even protect myself. It's not just having lost Willowbite. Willowbite is simply the last straw. Rather than protecting those I care about on my adventures, I have found myself being protected, even to the point of having been brought from the brink of death numerous times. I can't even know how many times death has claimed me only to be cheated by a friend with a scroll or the skilled healers of the redmist temple.
I guess I know why Willowbite broke. It's because I was not worthy to wield such a powerful blade. I am not a powerful warrior as some are, nor will I ever be.
The elf stops writing, apparently not knowing how to continue. After staring at the final words for a few minutes, she shrugs, checks her ink supply, which has run rather dry, and decides to leave it at that. She gathers up the parchment, places the sword hilt carefully in a pocket of her pack, and heads up to her room in the inn. She doesn't seem to notice that she had dropped the last page of her diary, which contained the last two paragraphs of her writing.
An old, rusted sword hilt is set beside the parchment. Seemingly out of place on the rusted hilt are set three perfect diamonds, seemingly untouched by the age which it has obviously taken to rust the steel of the hilt. The elf keeps staring at the sword hilt, and it seems a tear almost comes to her eye when she looks at it. But then she looks back to the parchment, and ink set beside it. The quill in her hand has been dipped many times, but not a mark has been made on the parchment.
She dips the quill one last time before finally setting the quill to the parchment and beginning to write.
Alaria Willowleaf is my name. I am a warrior. Or at least, I thought I was.
She takes another long look at the sword hilt before continuing.
I constantly question what possessed me to become a warrior. I guess I just wanted to be strong. To protect those I care about. So that I would never have to watch someone I care about pass from this life while breath still remained in me. But life is cruel, and forces harsh lessons on any ambition.
Another look at the sword, and she sighs. She looks like she's about to give it up, stop writing, and go do something else, but she just relaxes back into the chair and takes the quill again. She resumes writing.
I guess I should start at the beginning. I arrived in Cormyr from Evermeet, and was stopped at the border of Cormyr. I was told that to enter Cormyr as an adventurer, I was to buy an adventuring charter. Of course, most of the coin I had I had spent to get this far, and so I had to perform a few chores to earn the coin for the charter. The outpost was having problems with a goblin infestation in a forest, and I was to first thin their ranks, and then to defeat their chief in battle. No small task, but not beyond my abilities. Having earned my charter, I entered Cormyr into the sleepy border town of Isinhold.
It seemed Isinhold had no shortage of small tasks for a strong sword-arm to perform. The cellar of the inn was infested with rats, and even further in, lycanthrope rats. Neither was particularly a challenge for me, though I had to wonder at the hardiness of the lycanthropes. They seemed to simply shrug off some blows from my naginata I had at the time. Other blows sunk deep, though, and I managed to sever something vital.
Sam was happy to know that his rat problem had been taken care of for the moment, and I mentioned to him that he might want to get some cats to keep it that way. He was estatic to receive his key back, which had been missing for some time. That chore done, I went on to others. The farm on the edge of town had its own problem. A giant white rat was breeding at an alarming rate, and needed to be taken care of. The tail of the rat proved adequate proof that the deed had been done. Some of my elven cousins had been taken prisoner by hobgoblins, and needed to be freed. The elves were all too happy to give me their slave tokens they had received from the hobgoblins to identify them, as proof to Aviel that they were happily free. Hashard had a terrible habit of dropping his amulet into the well, and every time he did, there was a crab that would wander off with its shiny treasure. The crab needed a little "convincing" that it should part with the amulet before it was returned, once again, to Hashard.
I did not always adventure alone, however. I met some great friends. Annie Rift, a human priestess with almost elven ears. She was a wonderful friend, always happy to go to one or another place to adventure. Shabba Wryn, the hin... there isn't a scout I would rather have watching my back... or the backs of my enemies. Abby Winters, another human priestess, whose healing skill using mundane bandages and salves is unmatched, her magical healing abilities only augmenting a skill and compassion that had no equal. I wish I could list more, but time and ink is short, and I have much more to write.
As my skills grew, I wandered into more and more dangerous areas. The kobolds kept a den to the south of Isinhold, and their numbers routinely needed thinning out. The undead in the crypt of Isinhold constantly got restless, and at one point I finally discovered why, with the help of a pair of good friend. There was a vampire child that kept its coffin deep within the crypt. We drove it back to its coffin, and drove a stake through its heart to end its unlife forever.
At some point, I met the best thing that has ever happened to me. My love, Entori. We were both shy, and it took us a considerable amount of time, but after some time we could no longer deny what both our hearts were telling us, and we have been together since. I wish that I could spend the rest of my life with him. But life as an elf reckons it is long, and we may both change in the millenia we may both live. That doesn't keep me from being happy about what we both share for now, though.
I'll spare you the details of my many adventures since. There is one that sticks out in my mind, though. Entori had been searching for three flawless diamonds apparently since he met me, and at one point had gathered the three. He had let me on to what he had planned for me, and I had been saving as well for the expertly crafted sword that would be used as the base for "Willowbite". But the enchantment Entori had planned required fairly expensive components to imbue in a sword, so with the base sword in hand, I and Entori set out to earn the gold for the components.
In a way, even though Entori did the imbue, the resulting sword was a product of both our endeavors... a symbol of the time we had spent together to create it, and the love we shared. "Willowbite", a sword forged of love and devotion.
And then Willowbite broke.
It was my own carelessness, really, that caused the destruction of the blade. I had travelled to the haunted Zorastryl estate with some friends on an errand from a man in the Regal Griffon Inn. I could not have been prepared for the monster that had appeared before us.
I had heard stories of Rust Monsters before, but had never seen one. I just knew they were bad news... able to eat anything metal, no matter what kind of metal, and no matter how powerfully enchanted that metal was. I didn't see the creature at furst... only sensed it as it rushed past me to attack my companion. And so I swung, sensing only ill intent to one I was intent on protecting.
The creature must have heard me move, for the moment I started my swing, it turned and caught my sword in its jaws. Rust spread from where it bit, and my sword was consumed in an instant. I am glad I am in the habit of wearing leather gloves, or the spreading rust may have consumed my armor as well. After it was done, I was left holding the hilt of what had once been a very powerful sword.
The elf looked again at the sword hilt, and a tear falls from her eyes before she can continue writing.
I was devastated. How could a sword full of so much meaning just be destroyed like that? It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And yet it was. The symbol of love, of devotion, of the time that Entori and I had spent together and the trials we had shared to create the blade. And the blade was completely destroyed.
Entori assures me that it doesn't matter. That Willowbite can be forged anew. I wish I could believe him. By allowing the blade to be destroyed, no matter the reason, I have betrayed our love. Our love has been symbolically destroyed.
I cannot any longer continue my adventures as I have been. I cannot protect those I care about... I cannot even protect myself. It's not just having lost Willowbite. Willowbite is simply the last straw. Rather than protecting those I care about on my adventures, I have found myself being protected, even to the point of having been brought from the brink of death numerous times. I can't even know how many times death has claimed me only to be cheated by a friend with a scroll or the skilled healers of the redmist temple.
I guess I know why Willowbite broke. It's because I was not worthy to wield such a powerful blade. I am not a powerful warrior as some are, nor will I ever be.
The elf stops writing, apparently not knowing how to continue. After staring at the final words for a few minutes, she shrugs, checks her ink supply, which has run rather dry, and decides to leave it at that. She gathers up the parchment, places the sword hilt carefully in a pocket of her pack, and heads up to her room in the inn. She doesn't seem to notice that she had dropped the last page of her diary, which contained the last two paragraphs of her writing.
