Tome of the Keeper T'erian
Posted: Thu Sep 30, 2004 3:50 pm
A shiver in the air passes through the night. The cresent moon cast little light through the clouds. The sound of the woods, breathe a quite sigh as T'erian D'zani kneels.
"I call on the spirits of these woods to cast my prayer to the far reaches of this realm. I send the name of my clan to the west winds. I send the name of my birth to the winds of the east. Deliever my message in a beautiful song, Findari, a song that only you can sing I pray that they return to me and the gods are pleased."
The young elven stands to his full stance, his head still bowed in silent prayer. He mumbles some ancient blessing words of his people before making his way to the lights in the far distance.
As he moved cautiously and silently on this unfamiliar ground his mind could not help but wonder to the events that had led him hear.
*******
Months had passed on the open waters. The currents that had guided him to this new shore had somehow managed to bring him here alive. He had seen the might and magisty, the visious power and peaceful ease of the sea. The small sailing vessel that had been fitted for his journey was nearly as tired and torn as he was. His fresh water store was no longer and his food stow of breads and grains had long been eaten. If it was not for the need to survive he would not have, he spent his mornings doing what little he could, fishing if the weather permitted and the fish took notice of the bait. The days bled into what seemed to be several eternities. The fire-burn of the sun above him often left him paralyzed. He caught uttered small insults to Bragon before they slipped from his tounge. The nights of vast darkness had given him time to meditate on the last words he heard before setting off to rekindle his clans lost histories.
"We were not the first, our story starts not here. Seek them out and find..." The last words of a dying kinsmen.
He had been chosen for this journey, not because he was the most worthy or strong. He was chosen because he was the only one left.
"I call on the spirits of these woods to cast my prayer to the far reaches of this realm. I send the name of my clan to the west winds. I send the name of my birth to the winds of the east. Deliever my message in a beautiful song, Findari, a song that only you can sing I pray that they return to me and the gods are pleased."
The young elven stands to his full stance, his head still bowed in silent prayer. He mumbles some ancient blessing words of his people before making his way to the lights in the far distance.
As he moved cautiously and silently on this unfamiliar ground his mind could not help but wonder to the events that had led him hear.
*******
Months had passed on the open waters. The currents that had guided him to this new shore had somehow managed to bring him here alive. He had seen the might and magisty, the visious power and peaceful ease of the sea. The small sailing vessel that had been fitted for his journey was nearly as tired and torn as he was. His fresh water store was no longer and his food stow of breads and grains had long been eaten. If it was not for the need to survive he would not have, he spent his mornings doing what little he could, fishing if the weather permitted and the fish took notice of the bait. The days bled into what seemed to be several eternities. The fire-burn of the sun above him often left him paralyzed. He caught uttered small insults to Bragon before they slipped from his tounge. The nights of vast darkness had given him time to meditate on the last words he heard before setting off to rekindle his clans lost histories.
"We were not the first, our story starts not here. Seek them out and find..." The last words of a dying kinsmen.
He had been chosen for this journey, not because he was the most worthy or strong. He was chosen because he was the only one left.