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The Viridale is never silent. Abuzz with the marching feet of adventurers and raiding goblin-kin alike, quiet peace is a hard thing to find. Even deeper within the forest, where few care or dare to go, the wind moves swiftly through the trees, rustling the trees as it passes. Animals make noise as they usually do, whether it be the chirping of birds in the morning or the howl of a wolf at night. Eventually the ears of an adventurer become deaf to these sounds. They are all backgrounds noise, and silence becomes a relative term.
However, there is a place in the Viridale, not so far from the border, and not so far from the troublesome hordes, where one can find true silence. All creatures of any sense avoid this place. The birds refuse to even so much as fly over it, and even the most massive of beasts do not dare to tread on its soil. The air is utterly still, yet it still manages to send a chill through the bones of those who are stupid enough to go there. The very spirits of the forest are dead, the soil charred and ravaged. A small stone marker stands in the center of the place, the writings on it covered in so much blackened char as to make it unreadable. Whatever words of wisdom it had to share are lost.
The silence in this grove is so powerful as to make it louder than any other place in the forest. Yet some nights, if one is foolish enough to travel deeper within, one can hear a sound that the wind refuses to carry. It is not unlike the sound of a young wolf, crying out for its fallen mother. But if one listens long enough and closely enough, they will realize there are words within the cries. Words that repeat as if in a chant or a ritual. They are not words of any language known to man, but that of death. A requiem.
One night, the grove is truly silent. The mournful cries dissipate and a lone elven maiden sits on the blackened grass. Even her breath cannot be heard without the ears of a god. It is a deafening silence, as if her thoughts were more powerful than thunder. Thoughts? Memories more like it. More chilling than the coldest mountain air.
"I've heard your name thrown around the campfire recently. They say you're heading some sort of team."
"No one else had the mind to stand up and take charge. If not I, who else? But I'm beginning to think I'm not suited to the task."
"Why not just let someone else do the job? Things will work themselves out. They always do."
"The moonmaiden is involved. I know this in my heart, if not my mind. I cannot abandon my goddess."
"I have not the strength or knowledge this quest demands. If faith were power, I would be unstoppable. Alas, all I can do is watch others handle the task with ease."
"I'm sure you're doing a fine job. It's just there's no stones to turn."
"There are stones. It's just that everyone else seems to turn them first."
"I don't know how much help I can be here."
"Maybe you can cheer us on."
As Elusa stares at the blackened stone, a single tear rolls down her face. She does not bother to wipe it alway, and after a moment's hesitation it drops to the barren soil. "Let the earth soak up my tears. That is all I can do for it now." Breathing a sigh heavier than the weight of the world, she stands to her feet, wiping away the traces of tears from her cheek. As she walks away, she softly sings a slow, sad song of mourning. The Requiem of Abandoned Hope.
However, there is a place in the Viridale, not so far from the border, and not so far from the troublesome hordes, where one can find true silence. All creatures of any sense avoid this place. The birds refuse to even so much as fly over it, and even the most massive of beasts do not dare to tread on its soil. The air is utterly still, yet it still manages to send a chill through the bones of those who are stupid enough to go there. The very spirits of the forest are dead, the soil charred and ravaged. A small stone marker stands in the center of the place, the writings on it covered in so much blackened char as to make it unreadable. Whatever words of wisdom it had to share are lost.
The silence in this grove is so powerful as to make it louder than any other place in the forest. Yet some nights, if one is foolish enough to travel deeper within, one can hear a sound that the wind refuses to carry. It is not unlike the sound of a young wolf, crying out for its fallen mother. But if one listens long enough and closely enough, they will realize there are words within the cries. Words that repeat as if in a chant or a ritual. They are not words of any language known to man, but that of death. A requiem.
One night, the grove is truly silent. The mournful cries dissipate and a lone elven maiden sits on the blackened grass. Even her breath cannot be heard without the ears of a god. It is a deafening silence, as if her thoughts were more powerful than thunder. Thoughts? Memories more like it. More chilling than the coldest mountain air.
"I've heard your name thrown around the campfire recently. They say you're heading some sort of team."
"No one else had the mind to stand up and take charge. If not I, who else? But I'm beginning to think I'm not suited to the task."
"Why not just let someone else do the job? Things will work themselves out. They always do."
"The moonmaiden is involved. I know this in my heart, if not my mind. I cannot abandon my goddess."
"I have not the strength or knowledge this quest demands. If faith were power, I would be unstoppable. Alas, all I can do is watch others handle the task with ease."
"I'm sure you're doing a fine job. It's just there's no stones to turn."
"There are stones. It's just that everyone else seems to turn them first."
"I don't know how much help I can be here."
"Maybe you can cheer us on."
As Elusa stares at the blackened stone, a single tear rolls down her face. She does not bother to wipe it alway, and after a moment's hesitation it drops to the barren soil. "Let the earth soak up my tears. That is all I can do for it now." Breathing a sigh heavier than the weight of the world, she stands to her feet, wiping away the traces of tears from her cheek. As she walks away, she softly sings a slow, sad song of mourning. The Requiem of Abandoned Hope.