A Change of Heart

[thaelis]

The golden-haired Elf sat atop the outcropping of rock, his elbows resting relaxedly on his knees and a distant, contemplative look in his eyes. He had spent many such an afternoon in the sun-dappled clearing wiling away the hours, either in reverie, studying tomes of arcana, or simply immersing himself in the myriad sounds of the forest. Today however, more serious thoughts demanded his attention.

He thought back to that morning, when his wanderings had again brought him seemingly unconsciously to that same path, the one overgrown with briars, the one which he had struggled to tread, tearing free his cloak and boots with each step from plants that grasped with an almost sentient animosity. His instinct had told him that to draw his blade or to burn his way through with magical flame would be to invite the attention of something that would view a being such as himself, however powerful he might be, as nothing more than an ant beneath its boot. Finally, when it seemed that he had trekked for half a day, seemed that he must be nearing the end of the path, he had emerged, sweat soaked, his shirt tattered and tanned skin bearing bloody evidence of his trek, in the exact same spot that he had started.

Sighing, he had started to turn away from the path, yet something caught his eye and curiosity made him take a second glance. Somehow, the path seemed...wider. The briars and bushes had retreated, leaving ample room for an Elf to slip between. He had looked around warily, for he knew sorcery when he saw it, even if it was a lot more subtle than the kind he himself employed. Dismissing his doubts with a shake of his head, he thought again of what had driven him to seek this path and with a deep breath as if preparing himself strode into the mottled shadows of the path.

This time the briars had raised no objection to the Elf's passage, the long spidery roots no longer entangled, and even the moss beneath his feet seemed to spring his steps, urging him onward. Before long, he had emerged into a glade whose magnificence made his own “glade” pale in comparison. A voice caused him to snap out of his gawking, and he suddenly became aware of the, apparently Elven, figure standing before him.

“Welcome.” the Keeper repeated, studying the newly arrived Elf “I have been aware you have been seeking us for quite some time. Might I ask why?”

And so, as the shadows grew longer, the mage and warrior sat on the rock by his fire, and thought about the words he had spoken with the Keeper. His hand rubbed his bare wrists absently, where his bracers had once rested. He had returned them, quietly, along with his robes and his ring, for he was sure that the Hands did not take kindly to deserters of their order, and he would delay any retribution until he was better prepared for it.

With a sigh, and a final gaze at the setting sun, he jumped down from the rock and settled down in his usual position for reverie. At the very least, he felt more free than he had in a long time.


(It has been a very very long time since i wrote anything resembling creative writing, sorry guys. Btw thanks to Punchinello for his help! I am factionless for the time being)

[DM Punchinello]

The Keeper had been aware of this one’s presence for some time. Most turned back after a few attempts to reach The Vale, but this one had shown persistence. And the Keeper in turn, had shown curiosity.

The elfling had shared his personal disillusionment and concern with the Magocracy of the Valley. Intriguing. When someone is unhappy with their life, they often look for a means of escape... or was this different. Unknown. Was it a change in the season of the Elfling life, or a merely a seasonal variation.

When asked why did you come to us, the elf replied perhaps defeated “where else would I go”.

The Keeper mused silently - The Grove is a sanctuary, perhaps the elf could stay - much like a bird battered upon by a fierce storm. Yet once caged, a bird might find it difficult to fly free. Was this elfling looking at escaping one cage only to find comfort in the familiarity of another.

As always the Keeper would watch, wait and assess. Elves are after all known for their capriciousness.

[thaelis]

Again the golden haired Elf sat in the quiet grove near the edge of the Viridale and contemplated recent events. The girl, Maia had led the group to ultimate victory against the corruption of the Keeper, but he still had his doubts about her... she seemed wild and unpredictable, and of course there was her heritage, which he had learned was some sort of Fey spirit, and a powerful one. He didn't know yet if this made her more of a threat, or could make her an even more powerful ally for the Elves of the valley.

Regardless, for now he was just thankful to her and her allies, the mysterious dark hooded Elf, the priest Ryland...who he still did not know for what reason had aided them, and hadn't bothered to ask at the time. He had to admit, if perhaps only to himself, that the N'Tel'Quess could be noble at times. But then, who knew...perhaps he too had other motives. Only time would tell.

The forest might have fallen to the Bloodmaim, but it had narrowly escaped a much worse fate, and for that at least he could breathe a sigh of relief.