She stood yet again, black binder in her hand, with another name... struck from a list of an ever growing list. Another name, compiled and written, jotted in haste and marked up from months up upkeep, only to strike it, losing another. Another name, representing failure, shame and embarrassment. Someone who lost faith, someone who after all the trials and tribulations, all of the chaos and the strife, one who had lost the will to fight anymore.
There were too many names to list now, the running sheet of paper just looked like a crossed out page of black streaks, covered and coated with too much ink, or spilled with coffee.
It was a list she hated keeping, but knew that she must.
It was a list that represented failure.
Standing in the rain of Cordor's main square, she walked away from the message board, stumbling a little as she did. Passing the stone where she had been standing when she'd received a notice of threat... another place she had stood where she received more bad news. The bench she sat when a dead body was delivered to her feet. The obelisk she laid when she was battered bruised bloody and destroyed, her body ripped thru the weave and recovered after a harrowing attack.
Her wound was healed, but the scar upon her body, like many others would remain in her mind.
This name upon the list is just another. Another failure.
She stumbled aimlessly for a few moments, the rain bleating down around her, pouring, as it does in Cordor. Her black book refastened, protected from the cold, harsh rains of the port city she stowed it. Her cloak pulled high, her waistband cincher... she just pulled up her hood, hid herself from the world, and crashed to her knees. Her tears would go unseen, hidden from sight in plain sight and doused in the rain coming from the sky.
The emotions so great, the weight so high... How could this ever be fixed? How could they continue to fight such battles when those who did no longer wish to hold their words, draw their bows or ward their spells fight for the city. How, as the numbers of the Elves she called friend, continue to fight against increasing odds, decreasing numbers and an ever mounting set of losses that drug them through the very pits of despair.
Saba Ivae...
The Rain is Cold... in Cordor. But it feels no warmer in Myon as it falls and washes away the tears and blood. It falls and douses her. It falls, and she doesn't shield from it.
The Rain, is Cold.
The Rain is Cold
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Drogo Gyslain
- Posts: 367
- Joined: Wed Nov 13, 2019 5:35 am
Re: The Rain is Cold
*Plunk*
A few short moments go by as the ripples emanate in the water from the small splash zone.
*Plunk*
Quietly the ripples travel outward from the stone slipping into the water with a satisfying echo.
*Plunk*
Another soft, ploop heard as the water complained at the rocks being tossed into it.
Dregan sat on the shore, looking out and staring over the vast water. Her toes and feet dunked gently off the bank as she tossed in the small pebbles and rocks she'd collected from walking the shores, her feet touched by the greenery of the quiet, serene secluded vale. Her hand tossed another pebble, giving off the resounding *Plunk* as it too sank back into the water from where she had taken it from. Her other hand, resting on her journal, fingers wrapped over it's bindings tightly as she held it close.
The serenity of the forest is what she had desired, now more than anything. After such a day, it was something of a blessing to walk away and just recover. Her toes, coated in the fine, crystalline sands beneath the lake helped ground her to this reality as she looked out over the water, tracing the ripples with her eyes.
It had been too long since she just... calmed... Meditation from the past had helped but this needed something more ingrained. Something more visceral. Dregan just wanted to feel the serenity around her, in a place so pure and untainted that it would let her pour her soul out into her journal. That book was precious to her at this point, every page she meticulously kept, re-writing part of it even just to keep it from falling apart. Flipping through the pages she read again, as she had every day when she woke up and walked the shores, of her beginnings, tracing the names with her fingers.
She knew the stories, she remembered the deeds. She remembered the horrors and the joys, everything that had happened to her as she grew and became the woman she is today but most of all, she remembered... her. The Mentor she looked up to for so many years, growing up and learning from The Mossy Feet. The Mentor that, was like the mother she'd lost, so... so many years ago.
"I miss you... Miss Apple... I miss you, Darnella."
her hands grasped the book and on that page, was the crude, broken and poorly drawn symbol of an undignified looking bird, with a circle on it. It was the crude drawing of a young person, unrefined, hasty and every bit as personal to her as the brooch she wore now of the same symbol.
"I... I truly wish you were here. You... I, I have a friend named Diana. She reminds me a lot of you." she tells the book, running her finger over the name again, faded and worn from years of this occurring. That page was one of the oldest, the original paper still included in the book behind the new transcribed page, with the symbol drawn albeit much more well done than the older version.
The book was closed, and with her stomach growling, she would be forced to stand yet again and search in for her fare. The variety of bushes, carefully cultivated despite the non-existent populace were especially pleasing. Tending the plants... it brought her a level of peace that she never really thought about, happily running her hands through the leaves and taking some of the fruits and also pruning the bushes as her fingers passed through their branches.
"If there were ever a place of serenity, let it be this place for me." she thought to herself calmly keeping her fingers busy plucking away at the small, savory fruits of the bush.
With her routine of the past week spent wandering the small waterfront, she laid one berry for each of the statues at their feets. The Companion and the Guardian, and the Archer, watching over the water and the lake. Their ever vigilant visages bringing her a sense of security, of defense.
The two Stag-Mounted warriors, flanking the gates also, as she stroked over the marble and left the berries in tribute at their feets as well. A loud, almost jealous sniff brushed her hair as one of the forest Denizen's came up behind her. With a gentle smile she turned, looking upon the large white Stag and holding out an outstretched hand filled with yet more berries. With none taken the stag wandered off and she nodded to it, returning to the water side.
"I've never considered the possibility of... being a priest or cleric before... she mused to herself playfully, her toes dipping again into the cool and ever still waters surrounding her small, beautiful haven from the world.
Maybe one day. Maybe she would do something that bold.
A few short moments go by as the ripples emanate in the water from the small splash zone.
*Plunk*
Quietly the ripples travel outward from the stone slipping into the water with a satisfying echo.
*Plunk*
Another soft, ploop heard as the water complained at the rocks being tossed into it.
Dregan sat on the shore, looking out and staring over the vast water. Her toes and feet dunked gently off the bank as she tossed in the small pebbles and rocks she'd collected from walking the shores, her feet touched by the greenery of the quiet, serene secluded vale. Her hand tossed another pebble, giving off the resounding *Plunk* as it too sank back into the water from where she had taken it from. Her other hand, resting on her journal, fingers wrapped over it's bindings tightly as she held it close.
The serenity of the forest is what she had desired, now more than anything. After such a day, it was something of a blessing to walk away and just recover. Her toes, coated in the fine, crystalline sands beneath the lake helped ground her to this reality as she looked out over the water, tracing the ripples with her eyes.
It had been too long since she just... calmed... Meditation from the past had helped but this needed something more ingrained. Something more visceral. Dregan just wanted to feel the serenity around her, in a place so pure and untainted that it would let her pour her soul out into her journal. That book was precious to her at this point, every page she meticulously kept, re-writing part of it even just to keep it from falling apart. Flipping through the pages she read again, as she had every day when she woke up and walked the shores, of her beginnings, tracing the names with her fingers.
She knew the stories, she remembered the deeds. She remembered the horrors and the joys, everything that had happened to her as she grew and became the woman she is today but most of all, she remembered... her. The Mentor she looked up to for so many years, growing up and learning from The Mossy Feet. The Mentor that, was like the mother she'd lost, so... so many years ago.
"I miss you... Miss Apple... I miss you, Darnella."
her hands grasped the book and on that page, was the crude, broken and poorly drawn symbol of an undignified looking bird, with a circle on it. It was the crude drawing of a young person, unrefined, hasty and every bit as personal to her as the brooch she wore now of the same symbol.
"I... I truly wish you were here. You... I, I have a friend named Diana. She reminds me a lot of you." she tells the book, running her finger over the name again, faded and worn from years of this occurring. That page was one of the oldest, the original paper still included in the book behind the new transcribed page, with the symbol drawn albeit much more well done than the older version.
The book was closed, and with her stomach growling, she would be forced to stand yet again and search in for her fare. The variety of bushes, carefully cultivated despite the non-existent populace were especially pleasing. Tending the plants... it brought her a level of peace that she never really thought about, happily running her hands through the leaves and taking some of the fruits and also pruning the bushes as her fingers passed through their branches.
"If there were ever a place of serenity, let it be this place for me." she thought to herself calmly keeping her fingers busy plucking away at the small, savory fruits of the bush.
With her routine of the past week spent wandering the small waterfront, she laid one berry for each of the statues at their feets. The Companion and the Guardian, and the Archer, watching over the water and the lake. Their ever vigilant visages bringing her a sense of security, of defense.
The two Stag-Mounted warriors, flanking the gates also, as she stroked over the marble and left the berries in tribute at their feets as well. A loud, almost jealous sniff brushed her hair as one of the forest Denizen's came up behind her. With a gentle smile she turned, looking upon the large white Stag and holding out an outstretched hand filled with yet more berries. With none taken the stag wandered off and she nodded to it, returning to the water side.
"I've never considered the possibility of... being a priest or cleric before... she mused to herself playfully, her toes dipping again into the cool and ever still waters surrounding her small, beautiful haven from the world.
Maybe one day. Maybe she would do something that bold.
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Drogo Gyslain
- Posts: 367
- Joined: Wed Nov 13, 2019 5:35 am
Re: The Rain is Cold
Her back was cold. Lying there, with shadowvar guard walking around, but still yet un-settlingly alone. Embarrassed. Angry... but more than anything.
Disappointed.
Her heart sank hard, feeling like it was going to pull straight through her back and fall out onto the stone cobbles she laid upon, still having not moved for over an hour, laying there and just contemplating what had happened.
It hadn't been hard, for Elizabeth to just pick her up and toss her on the ground, just like it would have been no issue for her to strike her down in that very moment.
That was the only reason they had met in the Shadowvar.
That was the only reason, she was even still breathing.
What was she even thinking? Had she gone mad? Did she serious think that she was really going to convince someone like her that the surface would ever be able to forgive her?
The naivite of it, the hubris... Was this that arrogance that all the elves kept being accused of?
The ground robbed her of her body heat, having only come back for this meeting... having spent such glory among the realm, such peace. She'd written... written poetry... written tomes. Her hands had stayed busy and her notebooks filled with her thoughts.
Her happiness was truly expressed, recording her thoughts, writing her observations of the places she visited, the people she spoke with.
All that happiness...
Why could that not be shared?
The woman who had turned her away... shot by her own Kin when delivering missives, unarmed... She couldn't wrap her head around it.
"If... if only I'd been faster getting down the stairs..."
All the distractions of that day were clouding her mind, all of the events that coincided that she had no desire to deal with just slammed into eachother with the force of an exploding powderkeg.
It was the worst set of events that could have played out as they did.
She remembered seeing it in Sibayad. She remembered, the glint of hope. That small, tiny shard of truth within her. She didn't want this life.
Like the light of a candle, surrounded by an infinite darkness, she saw it. She observed it, as one would from a far distance away, barely able to distinguish it from the surrounding darkness and almost eaten whole.
But it was there.
It was still there.
She wanted to grasp at that light so badly, to brighten it. To kindle and nurture it. Maybe not to bring it back to the surface to reintegrate to society, but.... maybe, just maybe... to give her some peace, some ability to forgive for what had happened.
Some amount of resolution, though it not be restitution, something, anything...
She'd already felt bad enough for her involvement in the Death of Charlotte Crowe, was this some folly of penance she was extracting on herself? Was she looking at something that didn't exist?
Anaria.... She'd never been wrong the whole time. How could she ever have let herself believe an Underdarker could be reformed, or at the very least to exist peaceably on the surface in any capacity.
What right did she have, to believe that against the darkest of nights that the daylight would solve anything.
What right did she have, to do anything at all. She looked into Jezebel's eyes, lifted off the ground, and the light of hope, that tiny shimmer was gone. Now she only saw the steeled look of a warrior. The steeled and gory gaze of a fighter. The eyes of a killer.
Laying upon the ground, looking upward into the darkness of the cavern ceiling she finally picked herself up, dusting off her dress and getting it settled down again and looked to the portal.
"I'm not giving up my hope, even if you gave up yours."
All candle light eventually will fade.
All candles, will burn out.
All will become dark.
Not forgotten.
Disappointed.
Her heart sank hard, feeling like it was going to pull straight through her back and fall out onto the stone cobbles she laid upon, still having not moved for over an hour, laying there and just contemplating what had happened.
It hadn't been hard, for Elizabeth to just pick her up and toss her on the ground, just like it would have been no issue for her to strike her down in that very moment.
That was the only reason they had met in the Shadowvar.
That was the only reason, she was even still breathing.
What was she even thinking? Had she gone mad? Did she serious think that she was really going to convince someone like her that the surface would ever be able to forgive her?
The naivite of it, the hubris... Was this that arrogance that all the elves kept being accused of?
The ground robbed her of her body heat, having only come back for this meeting... having spent such glory among the realm, such peace. She'd written... written poetry... written tomes. Her hands had stayed busy and her notebooks filled with her thoughts.
Her happiness was truly expressed, recording her thoughts, writing her observations of the places she visited, the people she spoke with.
All that happiness...
Why could that not be shared?
The woman who had turned her away... shot by her own Kin when delivering missives, unarmed... She couldn't wrap her head around it.
"If... if only I'd been faster getting down the stairs..."
All the distractions of that day were clouding her mind, all of the events that coincided that she had no desire to deal with just slammed into eachother with the force of an exploding powderkeg.
It was the worst set of events that could have played out as they did.
She remembered seeing it in Sibayad. She remembered, the glint of hope. That small, tiny shard of truth within her. She didn't want this life.
Like the light of a candle, surrounded by an infinite darkness, she saw it. She observed it, as one would from a far distance away, barely able to distinguish it from the surrounding darkness and almost eaten whole.
But it was there.
It was still there.
She wanted to grasp at that light so badly, to brighten it. To kindle and nurture it. Maybe not to bring it back to the surface to reintegrate to society, but.... maybe, just maybe... to give her some peace, some ability to forgive for what had happened.
Some amount of resolution, though it not be restitution, something, anything...
She'd already felt bad enough for her involvement in the Death of Charlotte Crowe, was this some folly of penance she was extracting on herself? Was she looking at something that didn't exist?
Anaria.... She'd never been wrong the whole time. How could she ever have let herself believe an Underdarker could be reformed, or at the very least to exist peaceably on the surface in any capacity.
What right did she have, to believe that against the darkest of nights that the daylight would solve anything.
What right did she have, to do anything at all. She looked into Jezebel's eyes, lifted off the ground, and the light of hope, that tiny shimmer was gone. Now she only saw the steeled look of a warrior. The steeled and gory gaze of a fighter. The eyes of a killer.
Laying upon the ground, looking upward into the darkness of the cavern ceiling she finally picked herself up, dusting off her dress and getting it settled down again and looked to the portal.
"I'm not giving up my hope, even if you gave up yours."
All candle light eventually will fade.
All candles, will burn out.
All will become dark.
Not forgotten.
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Drogo Gyslain
- Posts: 367
- Joined: Wed Nov 13, 2019 5:35 am
Re: The Rain is Cold
It was raining in Cordor... again.
It rained in Myon.
It rained in Brog, and then it snowed.
It snowed in Guldorand.
And it rained again in Cordor.
Standing in that square, again, looking at the cobbles, the message board, and everything around me... It looked different, haggard and familiar. The stone cobbles where the blood of victims had splayed, the message board filled with its notes of anger and uplifting words, the political slogans and scrawlings of a comdedian, wetted by the rain.
It had been some time since Dregan had come to the island, it's vibrant and bright outlines, it's halos around its people long since gone. The tribulations of a lifetime of actions condensed into 5 years and the struggles of not only her but all those she cared about. What was the point?
She closed her eyes and from under her hood she felt back to the moments leading up to her final talk with Anaria, and the joy she felt in the stretches of Arboria. The faint, calming sound of the ripples of the lake and the soft words spoken that were barely louder than a whisper yet were understood clearly and with great compassion. The whispers of the trees and the silence of the grass, swaying in the breeze as it filled her with a peace so sublime she wanted to know more of it.
Looking down, for the first time, her shoulders were bared. Her Cloak removed, and her bow unstrung and passed into the hands of another. Her pack was light, her head was held high and her spirits felt light.
She... Felt light.
Dregan felt something, pulling in her heart, towing her in its wake... and it was bringing her to something she had run from, or was it something she was simply unaware of the entire time?
Her fingers found the mane of Lucama, and the totem Panther that had been her partner for so long rested by her feet as she waited. Her eyes closed, the rain around her falling drifted away and her mind blanked. Thinking to the note in her pocket, a call to her so profound she would be a fool to ignore it. For weeks, she prayed and prayed to Fenmarel to guide her to a decision.
Her body weak, her soul tired, she retained her ever present smile.
She had truly been blessed by Fenmarel, and he had given her her purpose. He had granted her, her wish.
"I'll find it, Father. If it was meant to be mine, I'll find it." she whispered, her hand firmly placed upon the note in her pocket and her eyes closed.
A Silver, heavy clank.
Two, heavy footsteps.
Silence, and an ungauntleted, feminine hand clasped her shoulder, bearing a silver ring.
"Are you ready to go, Ceela?"
"Yes, Sade Ivae."
The rain... wasn't really that cold afterall.
It rained in Myon.
It rained in Brog, and then it snowed.
It snowed in Guldorand.
And it rained again in Cordor.
Standing in that square, again, looking at the cobbles, the message board, and everything around me... It looked different, haggard and familiar. The stone cobbles where the blood of victims had splayed, the message board filled with its notes of anger and uplifting words, the political slogans and scrawlings of a comdedian, wetted by the rain.
It had been some time since Dregan had come to the island, it's vibrant and bright outlines, it's halos around its people long since gone. The tribulations of a lifetime of actions condensed into 5 years and the struggles of not only her but all those she cared about. What was the point?
She closed her eyes and from under her hood she felt back to the moments leading up to her final talk with Anaria, and the joy she felt in the stretches of Arboria. The faint, calming sound of the ripples of the lake and the soft words spoken that were barely louder than a whisper yet were understood clearly and with great compassion. The whispers of the trees and the silence of the grass, swaying in the breeze as it filled her with a peace so sublime she wanted to know more of it.
Looking down, for the first time, her shoulders were bared. Her Cloak removed, and her bow unstrung and passed into the hands of another. Her pack was light, her head was held high and her spirits felt light.
She... Felt light.
Dregan felt something, pulling in her heart, towing her in its wake... and it was bringing her to something she had run from, or was it something she was simply unaware of the entire time?
Her fingers found the mane of Lucama, and the totem Panther that had been her partner for so long rested by her feet as she waited. Her eyes closed, the rain around her falling drifted away and her mind blanked. Thinking to the note in her pocket, a call to her so profound she would be a fool to ignore it. For weeks, she prayed and prayed to Fenmarel to guide her to a decision.
Her body weak, her soul tired, she retained her ever present smile.
She had truly been blessed by Fenmarel, and he had given her her purpose. He had granted her, her wish.
"I'll find it, Father. If it was meant to be mine, I'll find it." she whispered, her hand firmly placed upon the note in her pocket and her eyes closed.
A Silver, heavy clank.
Two, heavy footsteps.
Silence, and an ungauntleted, feminine hand clasped her shoulder, bearing a silver ring.
"Are you ready to go, Ceela?"
"Yes, Sade Ivae."
The rain... wasn't really that cold afterall.
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Drogo Gyslain
- Posts: 367
- Joined: Wed Nov 13, 2019 5:35 am
Re: The Rain is Cold
The Rain is Cold... and gods does it feel good.
Her face blanched white, her skin paled and her body weak, heaving over the side of a railing looking down into churning waters below, the gentle patter of cold rainwater breaking over her neck actually brought immense comfort as the young Wild elf continued to feel sick. Day 3 into their voyage and she was still miserable. The Sailing ship had not been kind to Dregan as she remained queasy, almost violently so as her body continued to suffer from what felt like a severe illness. Either in her stateroom, resting in bed or bent over a railing was how the start of this journey had begun, but it would not be how it would end.
Her prayers were answered but... it came at a significant cost and a serious detriment, especially when traveling it seemed. Her now weakened body, imbued with a new strength was there but... at the same time she rocked wildly with each wave. Her constitution was not what it was, and having her prayers granted as they prepared to board the boat and depart the island may not have been the best timing.
She was determined however, leaning over that railing. She bitterly made promises to her feet, that they would never have to endure such a travesty again. Screaming into what seemed like a void of nothing but water.
The rain did a lot to help distract her from this misery, and the company on the ship.
Day 7 finally gave some relief. Almost an entire tenday of misery, her body likened to the movements of the ship and for the first time, she awoke and didn't instantly roll away from the bed and find the bucket that had become her second-best friend and her lifeline on this trip. She felt so guilty, to low of herself, to make herself such a burden to Emma as they embarked together only for her to be so unrelentingly ill. Relief... in the form of some level of acclimation, whether it was due to her power or due to simply acclimating to the rocking of the ship, she did not care. She was determined to take it if she could get it at this point.
Struggling from the bed and clutching at her side, she continued to Mutter to herself, as she had for the past few days. "I ca' do this...", repeatedly as she struggled out the door and to the railing. In her time, she often reflected, thinking back to Arelith and the past few years. With her eyes closed, and her nose surging with the scent of the sea around them she couldn't help but think back to Arelith in those times. Her banister moments became quite comforting, remembering the faces of those she cared for. The gentle and firm guiding voice of Anaria, the Trickster tones of Zathlan, the commanding voices of Elspeth and Aremis, and even the calming, innocent voice of Aliana and Tilly.
Bringing them to her mind and reminiscing on those she cared for now, the people that... had truly become what she enjoyed in this world, she was a far cry from the Wild Elf she had first come to the island as. A loner, an outcast, and a thief. Making her way in the earliest days on arelith picking pockets and stealing to make a little gold. Sure she never got caught, but most of the time she'd just lay the gold back on the ground for them to find anyway. It was... fun... like that. She enjoyed the cat and mouse game and it was oftentimes just innocent fun.
But her time on Arelith, it had truly changed her, with all the challenges she faced with the Delocké family, and her days first finding Myon.
It was hard to believe that this would all be something she would care so deeply for. She'd always just... wandered off... when things didn't make sense or she didn't care for things anymore. She was used to waking up and disappearing in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. From Inns or staterooms, from Luskan to Chult, she'd made a habit of making herself scarce whenever the need arised or her whim desired.
But it was different now... Thinking back to The Mossy Feet, that tribe of bandits that just seemed like a distant memory and her time with them, even then... she couldn't image staying in one place for very long and they moved frequently from town to town. The very thought of... staying in one place used to scare her. Staying chained down, isolated and alone. It brought with it so many memories and such much fear.
Except...
After a few moments of leaning against the railing a pop and open of the door was audible. Turning slowly the image and form of Emma, without her trademark armor came forth, lightening her gaze and bringing a smile to her lips.
Indeed. There was something that was certainly worth putting her efforts in, there truly was. There were people that, they cared about her. They even depended on her, and Emma was one of them.
She could feel something within herself, like at that moment, many times over the past few months grow. A desire to help, to quell chaos and bring some balance... Balance, that word felt right.
Maybe she was just crazy and this boat was making her crazy for thinking such things.
Her face blanched white, her skin paled and her body weak, heaving over the side of a railing looking down into churning waters below, the gentle patter of cold rainwater breaking over her neck actually brought immense comfort as the young Wild elf continued to feel sick. Day 3 into their voyage and she was still miserable. The Sailing ship had not been kind to Dregan as she remained queasy, almost violently so as her body continued to suffer from what felt like a severe illness. Either in her stateroom, resting in bed or bent over a railing was how the start of this journey had begun, but it would not be how it would end.
Her prayers were answered but... it came at a significant cost and a serious detriment, especially when traveling it seemed. Her now weakened body, imbued with a new strength was there but... at the same time she rocked wildly with each wave. Her constitution was not what it was, and having her prayers granted as they prepared to board the boat and depart the island may not have been the best timing.
She was determined however, leaning over that railing. She bitterly made promises to her feet, that they would never have to endure such a travesty again. Screaming into what seemed like a void of nothing but water.
The rain did a lot to help distract her from this misery, and the company on the ship.
Day 7 finally gave some relief. Almost an entire tenday of misery, her body likened to the movements of the ship and for the first time, she awoke and didn't instantly roll away from the bed and find the bucket that had become her second-best friend and her lifeline on this trip. She felt so guilty, to low of herself, to make herself such a burden to Emma as they embarked together only for her to be so unrelentingly ill. Relief... in the form of some level of acclimation, whether it was due to her power or due to simply acclimating to the rocking of the ship, she did not care. She was determined to take it if she could get it at this point.
Struggling from the bed and clutching at her side, she continued to Mutter to herself, as she had for the past few days. "I ca' do this...", repeatedly as she struggled out the door and to the railing. In her time, she often reflected, thinking back to Arelith and the past few years. With her eyes closed, and her nose surging with the scent of the sea around them she couldn't help but think back to Arelith in those times. Her banister moments became quite comforting, remembering the faces of those she cared for. The gentle and firm guiding voice of Anaria, the Trickster tones of Zathlan, the commanding voices of Elspeth and Aremis, and even the calming, innocent voice of Aliana and Tilly.
Bringing them to her mind and reminiscing on those she cared for now, the people that... had truly become what she enjoyed in this world, she was a far cry from the Wild Elf she had first come to the island as. A loner, an outcast, and a thief. Making her way in the earliest days on arelith picking pockets and stealing to make a little gold. Sure she never got caught, but most of the time she'd just lay the gold back on the ground for them to find anyway. It was... fun... like that. She enjoyed the cat and mouse game and it was oftentimes just innocent fun.
But her time on Arelith, it had truly changed her, with all the challenges she faced with the Delocké family, and her days first finding Myon.
It was hard to believe that this would all be something she would care so deeply for. She'd always just... wandered off... when things didn't make sense or she didn't care for things anymore. She was used to waking up and disappearing in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. From Inns or staterooms, from Luskan to Chult, she'd made a habit of making herself scarce whenever the need arised or her whim desired.
But it was different now... Thinking back to The Mossy Feet, that tribe of bandits that just seemed like a distant memory and her time with them, even then... she couldn't image staying in one place for very long and they moved frequently from town to town. The very thought of... staying in one place used to scare her. Staying chained down, isolated and alone. It brought with it so many memories and such much fear.
Except...
After a few moments of leaning against the railing a pop and open of the door was audible. Turning slowly the image and form of Emma, without her trademark armor came forth, lightening her gaze and bringing a smile to her lips.
Indeed. There was something that was certainly worth putting her efforts in, there truly was. There were people that, they cared about her. They even depended on her, and Emma was one of them.
She could feel something within herself, like at that moment, many times over the past few months grow. A desire to help, to quell chaos and bring some balance... Balance, that word felt right.
Maybe she was just crazy and this boat was making her crazy for thinking such things.
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Drogo Gyslain
- Posts: 367
- Joined: Wed Nov 13, 2019 5:35 am
Re: The Rain is Cold
Waterdeep.
The Human city, constructed upon the ruins of an ancient Elven one, situated beneath the shadow of Mount Waterdeep.
Even from the ocean on approach the city was stunning. The mixture of architecture and the nature surrounding the city and its large sprawl made it feel both inviting and intimidating even from miles out to sea. The lasting sculpture of the elven architecture in the landscape still not overridden yet gave the city an elven beauty that had not been surpassed but had been suppressed by the more modern construction of the humans.
Even still, Dregan stood at the bow of the ship looking out over the land as they approached with a solid resolve to get off the ship and finally walk the land and the forests of the Faerûn landscape once again. It had been 5 years since she had departed for Arelith from Waterdeep and it was only fitting that she return through the same port she first departed from all those years ago. With hopes and dreams, aspirations and with a desire to be and do good, now returning to find her cause and reinvigorate not only herself, but Emma as well.
Just as she started to think on this, she heard the heavy clank of a gauntleted foot step up behind her and a smile rose over her lips. Not turning to look, but trusting she was back there she looked out over the forests to the south and the mountains to the north, her eyes taking in the sight just as she had leaving it those years ago and even as they approached she couldn't help but make the observation, that it really hadn't changed all that much. Even though she'd only seen the entire scene once, it hadn't gone and changed at all since the day she left and it was just as green and as lush as it should be.
Without even a word she leaned back from the railing only to be caught in Emma's grip, and she remained there by the railing for a time, taking in the sights as the crew of the ship steered them in. Minute after minute, the port coming closer, it was almost like a dream to behold them coming so close yet again and seeing the mainland.
She thought to what she'd been told by Emma of who Roderick was, and part of her was a bit apprehensive but she was certainly excited to meet a man of her faith, someone who was that much of an inspiration that she would continue to seek guidance from the man living hundreds of miles from the island even now.
3 Tendays... 3 entire Tendays simply to get here and make their journey to the mainland and so far, she'd felt nothing but sickness, illness and a lack of strength. "Fenmarel, have you done nothing but curse me so far?" she muttered to herself, sighing and taking one last look as the docks became physical, tangible and before she knew it they were docked.
The first steps off the boat, were like the first steps getting on. The constant rocking and motion she'd felt daily dealing with the rocking of the boat felt as though they had just started all over again as she stepped up onto the wooden planks and her feet nearly gave way. Reaching and grasping for her bow, she instead found a pylon to grab and lift herself up on, smiling back briefly.
"I... I's though' I still 'ad my bow on me. I guess... maybe I shouldn't've given it t' Varen so soon." with a chuckle and a nod, she waved off any help offered, simply standing on her own and finding her footing as she had to do on the boat, though admittedly, it was easier getting off the boat than getting on it.
3 Tendays of misery, just to get off the boat and almost fall. Her life was full of stumbles like this, and gritting her teeth, she forced herself upright. Her mind, fixated on breathing through the discomfort, and finding the strength to stand on her own, it was important for more than just a few reasons.
They were here. They were home.
"Father... I'm on my way. Fenmarel bless my path with bright lights. I'll be in the Wealdath Soon."
The Human city, constructed upon the ruins of an ancient Elven one, situated beneath the shadow of Mount Waterdeep.
Even from the ocean on approach the city was stunning. The mixture of architecture and the nature surrounding the city and its large sprawl made it feel both inviting and intimidating even from miles out to sea. The lasting sculpture of the elven architecture in the landscape still not overridden yet gave the city an elven beauty that had not been surpassed but had been suppressed by the more modern construction of the humans.
Even still, Dregan stood at the bow of the ship looking out over the land as they approached with a solid resolve to get off the ship and finally walk the land and the forests of the Faerûn landscape once again. It had been 5 years since she had departed for Arelith from Waterdeep and it was only fitting that she return through the same port she first departed from all those years ago. With hopes and dreams, aspirations and with a desire to be and do good, now returning to find her cause and reinvigorate not only herself, but Emma as well.
Just as she started to think on this, she heard the heavy clank of a gauntleted foot step up behind her and a smile rose over her lips. Not turning to look, but trusting she was back there she looked out over the forests to the south and the mountains to the north, her eyes taking in the sight just as she had leaving it those years ago and even as they approached she couldn't help but make the observation, that it really hadn't changed all that much. Even though she'd only seen the entire scene once, it hadn't gone and changed at all since the day she left and it was just as green and as lush as it should be.
Without even a word she leaned back from the railing only to be caught in Emma's grip, and she remained there by the railing for a time, taking in the sights as the crew of the ship steered them in. Minute after minute, the port coming closer, it was almost like a dream to behold them coming so close yet again and seeing the mainland.
She thought to what she'd been told by Emma of who Roderick was, and part of her was a bit apprehensive but she was certainly excited to meet a man of her faith, someone who was that much of an inspiration that she would continue to seek guidance from the man living hundreds of miles from the island even now.
3 Tendays... 3 entire Tendays simply to get here and make their journey to the mainland and so far, she'd felt nothing but sickness, illness and a lack of strength. "Fenmarel, have you done nothing but curse me so far?" she muttered to herself, sighing and taking one last look as the docks became physical, tangible and before she knew it they were docked.
The first steps off the boat, were like the first steps getting on. The constant rocking and motion she'd felt daily dealing with the rocking of the boat felt as though they had just started all over again as she stepped up onto the wooden planks and her feet nearly gave way. Reaching and grasping for her bow, she instead found a pylon to grab and lift herself up on, smiling back briefly.
"I... I's though' I still 'ad my bow on me. I guess... maybe I shouldn't've given it t' Varen so soon." with a chuckle and a nod, she waved off any help offered, simply standing on her own and finding her footing as she had to do on the boat, though admittedly, it was easier getting off the boat than getting on it.
3 Tendays of misery, just to get off the boat and almost fall. Her life was full of stumbles like this, and gritting her teeth, she forced herself upright. Her mind, fixated on breathing through the discomfort, and finding the strength to stand on her own, it was important for more than just a few reasons.
They were here. They were home.
"Father... I'm on my way. Fenmarel bless my path with bright lights. I'll be in the Wealdath Soon."
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Drogo Gyslain
- Posts: 367
- Joined: Wed Nov 13, 2019 5:35 am
Re: The Rain is Cold
Waterdeep was the city she remembered, the streets were just as crowded as Cordors yet, at night, just as empty. Staying in Waterdeep, talking with Roderick and spending time with Emma had been fun, but now, it was time to go. Several tendays in waterdeep, visiting the Helm Church, and exploring the city and it's surroundings had given Dregan time to prepare, time to process her surroundings.
Finding passage along the Sword Coast was not not difficult, but doing it in the time they had to traverse the entire sword coast without getting back on a boat again was important. Luckily, there was a caravan leaving that with a few coins she'd earned doing a little bit of contract carpentry work around Cordor and pay for.
Emma protested, several times. "Ceela, I could have paid for us to..." and every time, Dregan reminded her that this was their trip and she wasn't going to let her pay for everything. Besides, she had to keep her skills up, and her hands busy while Emma was in counsel, prayer and meeting with Roderick All day long in the church. Her hands upon some woodwork throughout those few weeks in Waterdeep until they day they left, she was always finding small little projects to do, and whittling small items, statues and keepsakes for the citizens that she met in her travels.
Dregan had made it a point, never to give her name and simply to leave behind a legacy... every toy and statue she made, every staff she carved... it was a testament to that.
The Journey south... 4 tendays of constant travel. Stopping constantly along the sword coast, they visited so many... many... many... different places, towns that she'd not even remembered, sights she had forgotten. Places that, Dregan hadn't visited in almost 100 years, since she was nothing but a young child growing up. It was Nostalgic, it was emotional... It was peace.
The entire trip, Dregan had desired nothing more than to head into the forest and run, but remembering she couldn't, she restrained herself hard, staying with Emma and helping as they went along. It was hard though, to keep her from finding a branch thick on a tree, and hopping up on one of the oxen carrying a cart, and start whittling. The tiny, 129cm elf easily climbed up on the big animals and weighed nothing to them, often giving them nice scratches behind the ears or feeding them leaves off of the sticks she trimmed up. Every now and then she'd get ahold of a nice juicy fruit from one of the trees they passed and the oxen got a nice flavorful treat from Dregan.
Often she would look down or dip off the side of the ox, or the caravan, and tussle Emma on the head, or be found lounching lazily on the backs of them, sleeping the day away, layed out in the sun along their back. Being draped over the large beasts of burden, petting them was even thereputic to watch, her young and inquisitive side always flamboyantly on display as she continued to regain both her strengths and senses properly.
2 Months after they first left from the isle of Arelith, they were finally at the edge of the Wealdath Forest. It felt like honestly the time had gone by so quickly, so soon that they were there, standing at the edge of the forest. With the Caravan Departing, all that was left was to find the small Inn and Lodge, run by Abelath Apple. From where they parted ways with the caravan, the Inn itself was in sight, a small, hamlet style building lodged on the edge of the forest.
Everything Dregan believed in, had brought her to this point. Returning home. With Sade Ivae at her side, and nothing to go back on, the forest... where she grew up and the site of her birth... She was actually going to see it.
She was actually going to go there... and walk the forests where her father and mother walked. Even if they were gone, even if they were nothing but corpses in the ground...
She wanted to know. She wanted to know, where home was.
So she could finally cry for them.
Soon.
Finding passage along the Sword Coast was not not difficult, but doing it in the time they had to traverse the entire sword coast without getting back on a boat again was important. Luckily, there was a caravan leaving that with a few coins she'd earned doing a little bit of contract carpentry work around Cordor and pay for.
Emma protested, several times. "Ceela, I could have paid for us to..." and every time, Dregan reminded her that this was their trip and she wasn't going to let her pay for everything. Besides, she had to keep her skills up, and her hands busy while Emma was in counsel, prayer and meeting with Roderick All day long in the church. Her hands upon some woodwork throughout those few weeks in Waterdeep until they day they left, she was always finding small little projects to do, and whittling small items, statues and keepsakes for the citizens that she met in her travels.
Dregan had made it a point, never to give her name and simply to leave behind a legacy... every toy and statue she made, every staff she carved... it was a testament to that.
The Journey south... 4 tendays of constant travel. Stopping constantly along the sword coast, they visited so many... many... many... different places, towns that she'd not even remembered, sights she had forgotten. Places that, Dregan hadn't visited in almost 100 years, since she was nothing but a young child growing up. It was Nostalgic, it was emotional... It was peace.
The entire trip, Dregan had desired nothing more than to head into the forest and run, but remembering she couldn't, she restrained herself hard, staying with Emma and helping as they went along. It was hard though, to keep her from finding a branch thick on a tree, and hopping up on one of the oxen carrying a cart, and start whittling. The tiny, 129cm elf easily climbed up on the big animals and weighed nothing to them, often giving them nice scratches behind the ears or feeding them leaves off of the sticks she trimmed up. Every now and then she'd get ahold of a nice juicy fruit from one of the trees they passed and the oxen got a nice flavorful treat from Dregan.
Often she would look down or dip off the side of the ox, or the caravan, and tussle Emma on the head, or be found lounching lazily on the backs of them, sleeping the day away, layed out in the sun along their back. Being draped over the large beasts of burden, petting them was even thereputic to watch, her young and inquisitive side always flamboyantly on display as she continued to regain both her strengths and senses properly.
2 Months after they first left from the isle of Arelith, they were finally at the edge of the Wealdath Forest. It felt like honestly the time had gone by so quickly, so soon that they were there, standing at the edge of the forest. With the Caravan Departing, all that was left was to find the small Inn and Lodge, run by Abelath Apple. From where they parted ways with the caravan, the Inn itself was in sight, a small, hamlet style building lodged on the edge of the forest.
Everything Dregan believed in, had brought her to this point. Returning home. With Sade Ivae at her side, and nothing to go back on, the forest... where she grew up and the site of her birth... She was actually going to see it.
She was actually going to go there... and walk the forests where her father and mother walked. Even if they were gone, even if they were nothing but corpses in the ground...
She wanted to know. She wanted to know, where home was.
So she could finally cry for them.
Soon.
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Drogo Gyslain
- Posts: 367
- Joined: Wed Nov 13, 2019 5:35 am
Re: The Rain is Cold
Staring up into the black sky that night, the stars shining bright and the clouds parting beautifully upon the mountaintop her eyes gazed forward, upward and beyond.
Had the stars and Moon always looked that gleaming, and shone that bright?
She couldn't remember the last time that her blue eyes had gazed toward the sky and observed the nighttime sky so bright, so glamorous.
Standing atop the mountain so high up, so far away from Cordor and Myon, so high above Bendir and Brog, the night sky spoke to her. It vibrated with her to her core, and she looked up with a piercing gaze into the heavens with a single thought.
"I wonder... I wonder if you see it too."
Had the stars and Moon always looked that gleaming, and shone that bright?
She couldn't remember the last time that her blue eyes had gazed toward the sky and observed the nighttime sky so bright, so glamorous.
Standing atop the mountain so high up, so far away from Cordor and Myon, so high above Bendir and Brog, the night sky spoke to her. It vibrated with her to her core, and she looked up with a piercing gaze into the heavens with a single thought.
"I wonder... I wonder if you see it too."
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Drogo Gyslain
- Posts: 367
- Joined: Wed Nov 13, 2019 5:35 am
Re: The Rain is Cold
I'm sitting in the bedroom again... I wonder if any of you knew what happened here...
Its been 7 years now but it feels like just a short while... Back then it was so different. To be here again, to sit and look upon this room, I havent been back in that long yet it feels like I was just here.
The faint resonance of shadow energy still abides, the scars in the floor, marred by my arrows... that strange aire of mysticism ever lingers in these halls but it all feels different now.
I was so different then, and even now... I question some of my decisions. Should I have done this instead of that. Should I have done something more impressive... should I have not spoken up about that or... no.
That doubt is not welcome. For i am here today, because I took my stands. I see this bed, its 4 posters and the eyes of the dead, and I made the choice to fight against what I do not agree with. I made that choice, and many others, to better myself, and better you all. It just feels... poetic... reminicient that... you should own this place.
Perhaps one day, I'll write your legacies. I'll write your stories. Perhaps one day I'll write about those things you didn't know, or weren't here to witness.
Perhaps one day, I can forgive myself for having my own doubts.
Its been 7 years now but it feels like just a short while... Back then it was so different. To be here again, to sit and look upon this room, I havent been back in that long yet it feels like I was just here.
The faint resonance of shadow energy still abides, the scars in the floor, marred by my arrows... that strange aire of mysticism ever lingers in these halls but it all feels different now.
I was so different then, and even now... I question some of my decisions. Should I have done this instead of that. Should I have done something more impressive... should I have not spoken up about that or... no.
That doubt is not welcome. For i am here today, because I took my stands. I see this bed, its 4 posters and the eyes of the dead, and I made the choice to fight against what I do not agree with. I made that choice, and many others, to better myself, and better you all. It just feels... poetic... reminicient that... you should own this place.
Perhaps one day, I'll write your legacies. I'll write your stories. Perhaps one day I'll write about those things you didn't know, or weren't here to witness.
Perhaps one day, I can forgive myself for having my own doubts.