Llew Hy

[Llew Hy]

As the flames leap towards the heavens, contrasting against the night sky, the absence of clouds reveal the moon in its fullness. Emanating an unparalleled magnificence; it hangs over their heads as a contradiction to the night’s events. The roar of the fire, and the sounds of the building collapsing within it, are not quite loud enough to mask the screams of those confined inside, at least, not from where the Boy is sitting.

The little red-headed boy only made it to the forest’s edge before he fell to his knees, hopeless. Even if he was physically capable of saving his family his mind had already given up. As he kneeled in the mud – unable to move – the tears welled in his eyes, reflecting the flames that would now forever be engrained in his memory.

As the desperate screams of the doomed are eternally silenced the Boy begins to feel a rage. He cannot help but feel angry at the King, for withdrawing the patrols from the farmlands; His Father, for not learning how to protect his family; His Mother, for not knowing when to run; His little brother and older sister, for not knowing where to hide; And, of course, the bandits who kill without mercy.

With the last of his home collapsing into the foundation the Boy realizes that he is now alone, an orphan. Thinking, hoping, that he can outrun the pain, he retreats into the forest running as fast as he can, jumping over felled trees and diving under low branches. He runs as far as any average nine-year-old can run before collapsing in exhaustion. This exhaustion, more than just a physical tiredness, runs through his bones, a poison in the marrow. Soon the Boy succumbs to it; entering a deep slumber.

In the forest there is no silence; at least, not in Cormanthor. But this evening, almost as if in mourning; the forest is engulfed in an unnatural calm. The Boy, asleep at the base of a mighty Oak, brings about a peace to the woods. The usual chirp of the crickets and the sounds of the nocturnal creatures stalking their prey in the thicket are all replaced by the Boy’s steady breathing.

The Boy’s name was Louis…

Dawn. The sun is being born again. The infancy of the day is seen in the red-orange glow that is mirrored in the morning dew, glistening like diamonds cast upon burning embers. The sun approaches its apex and the moment is lost. The red-orange glow is replaced by a mid-morning haze. Heat – the bastard child of the sun – begins its oppression, seeking to smother all life with its presence. Upon reaching its peak, the sun’s messengers descend upon the earth; between a break in the clouds they find their way through the trees and onto the forest floor.

Louis awakens slowly; his eyelids in a battle against the light. Emerging from dreams unremembered he raises his body - sodden with sweat – and sits upright. In front of him stand two male Elves speaking a strange language. Bravely, the boy confronts them: "Who are you?" he asks, but the Elves ignore him. Feeling dejected he stands and starts to walk away. "Wait." he hears from behind him "We weren’t trying to ignore you". The boy turns back to the Elves to find that he is being addressed by the taller of the two, wearing bright leathers and a longbow on his shoulder. "Where am I?" "Essembra, in the forest of Cormanthor" "And who are you?" "I am Cae’len Hy, and you?" "I am Louis, but my friends call me Lou." At this Cae’len smiles and replies "Llew it is then."

For five years Llew lived amongst the Elves of Essembra as Cae’len’s son. They taught him the language, and the pantheon. He learned of the downfall of Cormanthyr into Myth Drannor. And was shown how to respect nature and take only from the forest that which he needed for survival. At the end of those five years however, Llew grew restless, he realized that he could never truly become one of the Elves and would always be considered an outsider. Although he knew he would forever miss Cae’len and his new home he also knew that it was not where he belonged. Given Cae’len’s surname, the Elves made it known to him that he would always be welcome to return, and he departed that day as Llew Hy.

[Llew Hy]

The Fall of Myth Drannor.

((OOC: All of the information on Myth Drannor was taken from resources online; none of it has been invented by myself.))

~Fourteen years ago~

Cushioned by the overgrowth of moss their steps are soundless as they walk beside the river. They do not dare disturb the quiet of the Cormanthor forest -- not out of fear for their safety – but out of respect for the tranquility. A Red Deer stands on the river-bank; lapping at the crystal-clear waters of the Duathamper. He does not acknowledge the Elf and his companion, the fear, the temptation to run, never once crosses his mind.

Cae’len, staff in-hand, smiles peacefully and walks without purpose. Llew follows close behind. Ten years old now; Llew has been with the Elves for one year. He is beginning to feel acclimated with their society but the loss of his family is still fresh enough in his mind to cause him night-terrors. The time flows as does the river and Llew begins to show signs of fatigue. “Let’s take a break” suggests Cae’len. “Only if we must” Llew responds with a smile.

As they find a dry place to sit, Llew mulls over a lesson from earlier that day, and then he finds himself encouraged to ask: “Cae’len, Why is Myth Drannor no longer a city? Why is it only ruins?” Cae’len frowns as long-forgotten memories begin to re-surface. “It is a long story, Llew, perhaps better for another time.” With a look of dejection Llew turns away causing Cae’len to sigh. “I suppose we have time now.”

“Myth Drannor, a city of many names: Some called it the City of Beauty, some the City of Songs, originally – however -- it was simply called Cormanthyr. They changed it when they raised the Mythal, a spell of protection that encapsulated the entire city.” “Did it work?” Llew interjects. “The Mythal? Very well, actually. We had peace for five-hundred years.” At this, Llew’s curiosity was piqued. “How did they do it?” Cae’len couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s inquisitiveness. “It is complicated. It takes a group of powerful mage’s, the stronger the spell the more mage’s you need. The spell can be used to protect, or to banish. Often; the spell takes the life of the one who casts it. The one’s who raised the Mythal of Myth Drannor were fortunate.” “None of them died?” “No, Sylvanus smiled upon them that day.”

Cae’len looks out into the deep of the forest, a serene look comes across his face and he nudges Llew, pointing to the distance. As Llew glances up he catches sight of it; a Panther, obsidian in color, stalking through the trees like a thief in the night. She glances their way for a brief moment and as Llew’s eyes catch hers he begins to feel at-ease and smiles to her. As she leaves their sight Cae’len continues.

“For nearly four-hundred years Myth Drannor did not grow or shrink. Her people; Men, Women, and Children of all races, lived in harmony, and time seemed almost to stand still for them. During this time, only the most prestigious lived there. No new homes were built, no old homes were destroyed; the only way to move there was if a resident died. However, the surrounding human cities did continue to grow. Too much, in fact, they began to burst at the seams. Rather than allow them to destroy the Cormanthor forest the king, Eltargrim, invited them into Myth Drannor. With this new-found population the city entered a great Golden Age.”

Cae’len suddenly asks: “Do you remember what you were taught about the balance?” Llew nods, straight-faced, and replies in a learned, meticulous manner: “That it is necessary for the survival of a civilization.” Cae’len chuckles at the boy’s mannerisms. “That’s correct; we learned that from Myth Drannor. The city became too powerful too quickly and started to draw attention from the wrong people. Where ever there is something good in the world you can always expect someone evil to either take it, or destroy it.” “Someone evil destroyed Myth Drannor?” Cae’len sighs deeply, a look of despair on his face. “Yes, Someone evil. But we never learned who. After close to five-hundred years of protection under the Mythal, someone, or something, raised an army. A demonic horde called ‘The Army of Darkness’.”

“Because they were summoned there was no end to them. Wave after wave was defeated, and wave after wave continued to push. They evacuated the city but three-thousand stayed behind to fight. They gave everything they had to the defense of the city but it wasn’t enough. Nothing would have been. The Army of Darkness overwhelmed the Mythal and leveled the city. The Mages that stayed to protect their tower cursed the army with their last breaths. In the end only two-hundred of the original three-thousand survived. The City -- once called the City of Beauty – was nothing more than a pile of rubble, the Mythal was destroyed, and the Army of Darkness disbanded, vanishing along with whatever evil being created it.”

“And what about the people who were evacuated?” Llew asks sadly, taking the story to heart. “They spread out, coming to places like Essembra.” Cae’len smiles as he changes the subject: “The place we should be getting back to.” Despondently, Llew nods: “I guess we should.” As Cae’len and Llew begin walking again; the pinkish-hue of the sunset can be seen through a parting in the trees. Although no animals can be heard there; the steady sound of the river’s water’s flowing gives reassurance to Cae’len of the circuitousness of nature… and of Life.

[Llew Hy]

Pilgrimage to Cedarspoke.

~Ten years ago~

“Are you sure?” Cae’len’s words echo in his mind, a recent memory. “You know this is not where I belong, this is not my true home.” There is pain in Llew’s words but despite his reluctance he knows that he must leave. They both know. “I always believed this day would come, I just thought I would have more time…” Cae’len’s look of sorrow would not soon be forgotten, perhaps; not ever. “If you are certain that it is time you must promise me something.” “Anything, father.” “Promise me that you will speak with the druids of the Gulthmere Forest.” As Llew places his hand on Cae’len’s shoulder he assures him: “I promise…”

The cold rain comes down in sheets, each one a wall of unstoppable force crashing against the hull of the boat. As Llew watches port Yhuann fade into the distance he constantly reconsiders his decision. He could have stayed with the Elves forever. They were more than hospitable. But he was an outsider to them, an orphan in need of a home. Instead, he now stands on the deck of a ship which many would consider un-seaworthy. Alone, wet, cold, and wearing a set of leather armor meant for a much taller and slimmer Elf.

The storm -- gusting down from the Dragon Reach -- seemed to Llew to last a lifetime. In reality it lasted only long enough for him to consider his past, to bring it close enough to the foreground of his mind to save it from being lost forever. As the ship pulled into Starmantle he found himself in a new mindset. He realized that to survive on his own he would need to find something greater than himself to protect him. With a newly discovered sense of determination Llew left Starmantle and ventured into the Gulthmere.

The Gulthmere is much like any forest: Dark, dank, and full of feral animals. But Llew somehow feels at home beneath her canopy. He strolls at a normal pace searching for signs of the Druid stronghold ‘Cedarspoke’. As he comes within sight of the city there is an unnatural calm: what would otherwise be considered “wild” animals are resting lazily and showing no signs of fear towards the boy. Within Cedarspoke’s walls Llew sees men and women young and old; Druids, Rangers, Clerics of Sylvanus; Each one on a pilgrimage. He also realizes that he too is on a pilgrimage: he searches for purpose and guidance.

Llew spent two years in the stronghold of the Druids. It is where he found his calling. There he learned how to be a Druid: their language, beliefs, and code. He learned how to control nature with Sylvanus’s aide and the responsibility that went with it. Before he left he recited The Protector’s Creed:

"I am but part of the larger whole,
One of many creatures that inhabits the land,
Sworn to protect the balance of all things,
Lest the delicate weave be torn asunder.

I am not a warrior for Truth or Justice.
I live only to protect Faerun,
So that Truth and Justice may continue to exist,
And that others may live to be warriors for their cause.

I am not a Tool of Destruction.
But I will not stand in the way of Death’s will,
For Death too is part of the circle of life,
Even when he comes for those who are closest to me.

I am a servant of the Circle of Life.
I exist to ensure that each Winter is followed by another Spring,
And that every Death is followed by another Birth.
I am but part of the larger whole."