The elfess can be seen packing some things into a large leather bag. Some bundles that have the shape of cakes, some bread, some cheese, some bottles – water it seems. Besides this some candles and swords – whatever might be of use on a journey. After having checked the bag’s content again, the elfess stands and takes a long look around, slowly turning. A last deep breath, before her feet carry her in direction of the harbor, where a large ship seems to only be waiting for her to board. The sails are risen and slowly the ship leaves the shores of Gobaith, heading for the mainland.
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Man sieht die Elfe einige Dinge in einer großen Ledertasche verstauen. Eine Bündel, deren Umrisse auf Kuchen schließen lassen, ein wenig Brot, ein wenig Käse, ein paar Flaschen – Wasser, augenscheinlich. Daneben ein paar Kerzen und Schwerter – Dinge, die auf Reisen hilfreich sein könnten. Nachdem sie den Tascheninhalt nocheinmal überprüft hat, steht die Elfe auf und schaut sich lange um, sich langsam um die eigene Achse drehend. Ein letzter, tiefer Atemzug, ehe ihre Füße sie gen Hafen tragen, wo ein großes Schiff nur darauf zu warten scheint, dass sie an Bord geht. Die Segel werden gehisst und langsam verlässt das Schiff die Ufer Gobaith’s in Richtung Festland.
A journey to the past
Moderator: Gamemasters
A journey to the past
The elfess had walked for day on the streets and through the woods of the mainland. One night in the woods, she noticed a fireshine and carefully creeped closer. By the fire sat an obviously old elf, dressed in green clothes, leaves and moss in his hair – a druid, it seemed. Empty eyes ‘looked’ at her when she approached and he invited her to share the fire.
Both elves talked a lot that night and finally, the elfess told him about where she was heading and how much her heart was looking to return to Gobaith to be with her beloved elf again. The druid’s face brightened in a warm smile and his eyes, though blind and empty seemed to see an own memory of a love he might have felt a long time ago.
The fire slowly burned down and when the elfess wanted to place another log in it, to keep it burning, he held her back, waiting for the last sparks die to ashes. He knelt down besides the ashes and out of a pocket in his robe he got a small bottle with a deep purple liquid. An old, wrinkled hand poured some drops on the ashes – without any effect. The druid stood again, just smiling. “Patience” was his only comment and curiously the elfess kept looking at the ashes, while the druid sat down on the place where he had sat before. Some gasps when by, before the ashes started to move. The elfess’ eyes blinked in surprise, wondering if her tired eyes were kidding her. But no, a second look affirmed the ashes were moving, slowly taking a shape. A soft breeze began to surround the place, as if giving breath, giving life to the ashes until finally flames arose out of them, step by step forming the shape of a huge bird. Impossible to move, the elfess watched the whole process, ‘observed’ by the druids blind eyes. “Do you see this bird, that came to life out of only some ashes? Ride on it, it will bring you to Rubainn faster than your feet will do and maybe your water will be able to do the same ‘miracle’ with the woods there, that gave this bird its life.” Slowly, hesitating the elfess got closer and finally sat on the bird’s back. Just before it moved its wings to take them up in the air, the old druid gave her a small, purlpe potion. “You’ve seen how to use it. Be careful with it and only use it to get back to the ones you love.” Hardly believing what was happening, the elfess nodded and stored the bottle in her bag carefully, before she had to find some grip in the Phoenix’ feathers as he left ground behind, heading towards the unnamed mountains...
Both elves talked a lot that night and finally, the elfess told him about where she was heading and how much her heart was looking to return to Gobaith to be with her beloved elf again. The druid’s face brightened in a warm smile and his eyes, though blind and empty seemed to see an own memory of a love he might have felt a long time ago.
The fire slowly burned down and when the elfess wanted to place another log in it, to keep it burning, he held her back, waiting for the last sparks die to ashes. He knelt down besides the ashes and out of a pocket in his robe he got a small bottle with a deep purple liquid. An old, wrinkled hand poured some drops on the ashes – without any effect. The druid stood again, just smiling. “Patience” was his only comment and curiously the elfess kept looking at the ashes, while the druid sat down on the place where he had sat before. Some gasps when by, before the ashes started to move. The elfess’ eyes blinked in surprise, wondering if her tired eyes were kidding her. But no, a second look affirmed the ashes were moving, slowly taking a shape. A soft breeze began to surround the place, as if giving breath, giving life to the ashes until finally flames arose out of them, step by step forming the shape of a huge bird. Impossible to move, the elfess watched the whole process, ‘observed’ by the druids blind eyes. “Do you see this bird, that came to life out of only some ashes? Ride on it, it will bring you to Rubainn faster than your feet will do and maybe your water will be able to do the same ‘miracle’ with the woods there, that gave this bird its life.” Slowly, hesitating the elfess got closer and finally sat on the bird’s back. Just before it moved its wings to take them up in the air, the old druid gave her a small, purlpe potion. “You’ve seen how to use it. Be careful with it and only use it to get back to the ones you love.” Hardly believing what was happening, the elfess nodded and stored the bottle in her bag carefully, before she had to find some grip in the Phoenix’ feathers as he left ground behind, heading towards the unnamed mountains...
Re: A journey to the past
The phoenix’ burning wings took the elfess across the lands. Burning wings, but not hot. The flames that built the bird’s body were surprisingly cold. The emerals elven eyes looked down on the lands, as they pass the Erin sea, following some rivers to reach the edge of the Rough lands and the Pine woods, until crossing the Shadow forest to finally pass the Nameless mountains and land at their submontane. A flight of two days, to cover a distance that would have taken her weeks or even months by foot.
As soon, as the Phoenix’ feet touch the ground, it degrades, until nothing more is left than a small pile of ashes. The elfess, that had sitten on its back, stumbles a bit, as the body suddenly disappears and blinks surprised, looking at the ashes that are left by this imposing creature. When she was finally able to accept the disapperance of the Phoenix, she looks around to orientate herself. Not far she could recognize some dead trees and a river, that once had been of a clear blue, but thats color now had changed to a muddy brownish-green. Not likely to find the fish in it that used to live there, when she had left this landscape so many years ago.
Carefully, yes, one could almost say hesitating, she steps closer, touching the dead tree’s bark with her fingertips softly. The smell of death fills the air, sending shivers down the elfess’ spine with every breath. Nearly blind, due to the tears in her eyes, she steps forward, mind flooded by pictures of a happy, jaunty childhood.
At a voice in the brushwood she winces and quickly hides behind a close bush, watching her surrounding carefully.
A silently whispered “No...” leaves her lips, as her eyes get aware of some dark skinned, full armored elves, that don’t seem to be affected in any way by their dead surrounding – drows, obviously. Could they have caused all the trouble in the past? Could they be the reason of what happened to Rubainn? Could they have caused all this death of nature by their presence? Or by some Drow-magic? Would the holy water she had with her be enough in this case? How long would it be of help? Won’t she have to find others of her clan to fight back the drows if Rubainn should be safed?
Thoughts and doubts rush her mind, overlie the childhood’s pictures. Whatever the right way would be, she couldn’t face them alone. So she silently draws back to find a place in a save distance, to think and make up a plan.
Hidden by some rocks she finally dares to light up a fire, looking into the flames, thinking, until her agitated mind eventually falls asleep to send her into a weird dream...
As soon, as the Phoenix’ feet touch the ground, it degrades, until nothing more is left than a small pile of ashes. The elfess, that had sitten on its back, stumbles a bit, as the body suddenly disappears and blinks surprised, looking at the ashes that are left by this imposing creature. When she was finally able to accept the disapperance of the Phoenix, she looks around to orientate herself. Not far she could recognize some dead trees and a river, that once had been of a clear blue, but thats color now had changed to a muddy brownish-green. Not likely to find the fish in it that used to live there, when she had left this landscape so many years ago.
Carefully, yes, one could almost say hesitating, she steps closer, touching the dead tree’s bark with her fingertips softly. The smell of death fills the air, sending shivers down the elfess’ spine with every breath. Nearly blind, due to the tears in her eyes, she steps forward, mind flooded by pictures of a happy, jaunty childhood.
At a voice in the brushwood she winces and quickly hides behind a close bush, watching her surrounding carefully.
A silently whispered “No...” leaves her lips, as her eyes get aware of some dark skinned, full armored elves, that don’t seem to be affected in any way by their dead surrounding – drows, obviously. Could they have caused all the trouble in the past? Could they be the reason of what happened to Rubainn? Could they have caused all this death of nature by their presence? Or by some Drow-magic? Would the holy water she had with her be enough in this case? How long would it be of help? Won’t she have to find others of her clan to fight back the drows if Rubainn should be safed?
Thoughts and doubts rush her mind, overlie the childhood’s pictures. Whatever the right way would be, she couldn’t face them alone. So she silently draws back to find a place in a save distance, to think and make up a plan.
Hidden by some rocks she finally dares to light up a fire, looking into the flames, thinking, until her agitated mind eventually falls asleep to send her into a weird dream...
Re: A journey to the past
~ An elven dream ~
A bright, sunny day. In the trees around one can hear some birds sing light tunes, a soft breeze makes the red leaves around whisper to those who know how to listen. All out of sudden the peacefulness is disturbed by an amused child-laughter. A little elven-girl is running after a butterfly, giggling as the butterfly turns every few seconds to take a different direction and makes her do the same. With eyes only for the butterfly, the girl doesn’t notice an adult elf appearing and after turning another time, she runs into him, the giggle suddenly interrupted, looking up at the elf’s face with big green eyes, afraid to be scold for not paying attention. But recognizing the face high up above hers, a smile appears on girl’s face and she hugs the elf’s leg – all she can reach of this tall adult.
The elf stops surprised, when the elven-girl crashes in his legs and with a warm smile he lets her hug his leg, while he pats the child’s head gently. “Hunting your dreams, little one?”he asks with a soft voice. “You shouldn’t run old elves out of their shoes.” The warm smile remained on his face while he spoke. Obviously he wasn’t able to be mad at the little, unattentive elfess. Instead he tickles her softly with a feather.
The girl giggles and looks around for the butterfly but lost sight of it, so her eyes return to the elf’s face with an innocent smile. “Maybe the old elf has a nice story to keep elven-girls from running him out of his shoes?” The elf nods and sits with legs crossed, the girl doesn’t hesitate long and sits on his lap, looking at his face curiously now, waiting for the promised story. “Let me tell you a legend, older than even Rubainn’s trees.” He takes a deep breath, looking at the child’s face to make sure she’s paying attention. “There were those two young elves, not really friends, but they knew each other for a long time and it was a relationship of mutual respect. Until there was this day they fell in love with the same elfess. Both tried to win her heart, but, like it is in love, only one could win. The other one got really mad, decided if he couldn’t have her, no one should and in his anger he cursed her. By this curse, the elfess got terribly ill, she was only able to leave home after sunset. The elf she had fallen in love with, went to ask and find a cure. A druid finally told him, he’d have to find a special, very rare flower, to make a potion of. The elf kissed his elfess goodbye and walked the lands to find this certain flower. He walked and walked and walked. For years. With each and every dove the elfess begged him to come back, to be with her. And each and every dove he answered with “Giving up now, that I might find this flower tomorrow would make the whole journey be in vain. Be patient, my love, we will have time, after I have found this flower and you are healed.” What he didn’t know: The curse wasn’t lethal, but made the elfess grow old faster – her elven live became as short as a human one. He finally found his flower and proudly started his way back home.He was only two more days of walking away, when another dove reached him, telling him, his beloved elfess had become old and week and had died the last week. He couldn’t believe the words he was reading. The one elf had lost sanity due to love, should he have lost his love due to sanity?...
Slowly the elfess awakes, blinking at the sun, that had risen, frowning when she remembers her strange dream. She recognized the girl and the adult elf, but can’t remember this talk to really have taken place. Slowly, still confused, she stands, rubbing her eyes to leave the sleepy-dreamily mood and face reality again. Looking at the ashes of the fire she had lit in the night, she sees a feather and picks it up, looking at it thoughtfully. “Eléron...” she whispers, nearly voiceless, turning the feather between her fingers. Her emerald eyes then look at the trees she had left behind last night. The voice of wings make her turn her head and she sees a dove landing close to her, carrying a small parchment at its leg. She unrolls it, still the feather in her hand and reads it with a light smile. She frowns again, as she lifts her eyes from the parchment, thinking his strange dream, the parchment and the feather over and over again. She hasn’t seen any other bird in this dead forest than the dove, but the feather in her hands wasn’t a dove’s one. “Are you still out there, wise Elder?”she whispers again, as if asking the trees. Carefully she rolls the parchment again and puts it in her bag, together with the mysterious feather, when her hand touches a small bottle. Her fingers wrap around the bottles neck and pull it out. The elfess’ eyes thoughtfully look down at the holy water of Irundar, the water that had carried so much of her hopes. Her eyes wander over the ring at her finger and with a deep sigh and a sad look, she places the bottle back in her bag, taking out another one, with a deep purple liquid. A last silent whisper to no one “Thank you, Eléron, for still having an eye on your little elfess” while she looks at the dead trees, before she turns to the ashes and carefully pours the liquid on it.
A bright, sunny day. In the trees around one can hear some birds sing light tunes, a soft breeze makes the red leaves around whisper to those who know how to listen. All out of sudden the peacefulness is disturbed by an amused child-laughter. A little elven-girl is running after a butterfly, giggling as the butterfly turns every few seconds to take a different direction and makes her do the same. With eyes only for the butterfly, the girl doesn’t notice an adult elf appearing and after turning another time, she runs into him, the giggle suddenly interrupted, looking up at the elf’s face with big green eyes, afraid to be scold for not paying attention. But recognizing the face high up above hers, a smile appears on girl’s face and she hugs the elf’s leg – all she can reach of this tall adult.
The elf stops surprised, when the elven-girl crashes in his legs and with a warm smile he lets her hug his leg, while he pats the child’s head gently. “Hunting your dreams, little one?”he asks with a soft voice. “You shouldn’t run old elves out of their shoes.” The warm smile remained on his face while he spoke. Obviously he wasn’t able to be mad at the little, unattentive elfess. Instead he tickles her softly with a feather.
The girl giggles and looks around for the butterfly but lost sight of it, so her eyes return to the elf’s face with an innocent smile. “Maybe the old elf has a nice story to keep elven-girls from running him out of his shoes?” The elf nods and sits with legs crossed, the girl doesn’t hesitate long and sits on his lap, looking at his face curiously now, waiting for the promised story. “Let me tell you a legend, older than even Rubainn’s trees.” He takes a deep breath, looking at the child’s face to make sure she’s paying attention. “There were those two young elves, not really friends, but they knew each other for a long time and it was a relationship of mutual respect. Until there was this day they fell in love with the same elfess. Both tried to win her heart, but, like it is in love, only one could win. The other one got really mad, decided if he couldn’t have her, no one should and in his anger he cursed her. By this curse, the elfess got terribly ill, she was only able to leave home after sunset. The elf she had fallen in love with, went to ask and find a cure. A druid finally told him, he’d have to find a special, very rare flower, to make a potion of. The elf kissed his elfess goodbye and walked the lands to find this certain flower. He walked and walked and walked. For years. With each and every dove the elfess begged him to come back, to be with her. And each and every dove he answered with “Giving up now, that I might find this flower tomorrow would make the whole journey be in vain. Be patient, my love, we will have time, after I have found this flower and you are healed.” What he didn’t know: The curse wasn’t lethal, but made the elfess grow old faster – her elven live became as short as a human one. He finally found his flower and proudly started his way back home.He was only two more days of walking away, when another dove reached him, telling him, his beloved elfess had become old and week and had died the last week. He couldn’t believe the words he was reading. The one elf had lost sanity due to love, should he have lost his love due to sanity?...
Slowly the elfess awakes, blinking at the sun, that had risen, frowning when she remembers her strange dream. She recognized the girl and the adult elf, but can’t remember this talk to really have taken place. Slowly, still confused, she stands, rubbing her eyes to leave the sleepy-dreamily mood and face reality again. Looking at the ashes of the fire she had lit in the night, she sees a feather and picks it up, looking at it thoughtfully. “Eléron...” she whispers, nearly voiceless, turning the feather between her fingers. Her emerald eyes then look at the trees she had left behind last night. The voice of wings make her turn her head and she sees a dove landing close to her, carrying a small parchment at its leg. She unrolls it, still the feather in her hand and reads it with a light smile. She frowns again, as she lifts her eyes from the parchment, thinking his strange dream, the parchment and the feather over and over again. She hasn’t seen any other bird in this dead forest than the dove, but the feather in her hands wasn’t a dove’s one. “Are you still out there, wise Elder?”she whispers again, as if asking the trees. Carefully she rolls the parchment again and puts it in her bag, together with the mysterious feather, when her hand touches a small bottle. Her fingers wrap around the bottles neck and pull it out. The elfess’ eyes thoughtfully look down at the holy water of Irundar, the water that had carried so much of her hopes. Her eyes wander over the ring at her finger and with a deep sigh and a sad look, she places the bottle back in her bag, taking out another one, with a deep purple liquid. A last silent whisper to no one “Thank you, Eléron, for still having an eye on your little elfess” while she looks at the dead trees, before she turns to the ashes and carefully pours the liquid on it.