Doron Amar Role-Play

[Hoihe]

After waking up from her Reverie, Calinde immediately began to ensure that the bow she was given by her sister will stay in shape for many years to come, if not centuries, after all Elven Crafstmanship is known to be long-lasting, even if as but a beautiful symbol.

Using the box's equipment, she almost ritualistically, while sitting in her tent, began to apply the various oils and tend to the string so it stays as firm as it was when new. Strangely enough, she goes through the entire process without becoming exhausted, rather the opposite, energised. Apparently, tending to her bow and equipment relaxes the elf like reverie almost.

Not wishing to risk breaking her neck by trying to stand, she crawls to the corner of the tent to set down the bow, so it can dry. Still with plenty of energy, she goes back to scribbling on the parchment until tiring herself out, which happens within a hour if not less. clear that she'll never make a proper wizard, exhausted by not even a full hour of scribbling yet she could completely rejuvenate the wood of her bow and the string as well, protect it from the elements and decay through a job most consider tiresome over the course of many hours.

Even with her determined works to keep herself occupied, she is still confined to "bed", which is nothing else but the soft grass and soil, the best thing a Druid could ever wish for in a quest of recovery and infirmary.

[Emperor_Krayt]

Teuvaelivae was mostly seen at Councilor Silias side walking closely behind her as an shadow. Most often silently observed, she had much to learn and she was eager to improve in order to make herself of use. Yet that was not the sole reason, being in the revered priestess presence filled her with an indescribable sense of peace and calm.

Soon after she had arised from her reverie she would try to organise a band of evereskan rangers and Mathora to sweep the woods for straggling black orcs.

She would also been seen in the company of Tomanlor clearing debris and restoring general sense of order to the disarray. Stones of equal size was put in one heap and charred wood in another. Abeit having build her mussles explosively strong, she was not built nor adept at physical labour for hours and hours. After an intensive interval she panted and staggerd but pushed herself to see it finished. While she sat down in the grass to rest herself she was writing on her requiem and hymn for the late General Sywyn. Aside from that she made scetches of a relief table depicting elves, humans, dwarves and hins battleling against orcs which are fleeing. "Tomanlor gave birth to the idea, now I canst not cast it from my mind" She would often say when asked. She would ask the mages if they could gather a block of alabaster magicaly fit to craft the table from.

Daily she would visit Calinde. Praising her for her heroic acts and the death pits she had escavated so skillfully. Asking if she needed anything, of her sister's well being and generaly friendly small talk. Singing a few shorter songs and playing a few traditional instrumentals. The Winterwillow was most the most frequent choice, which she played in several diffrent versions and styles. She would aslo retell many tales and epics. The many legends of Myth Drannor and heroics of house Moonflower. Zaor in particular took a large part of her tale treading. Teu clearly favorised Moon elven heros over others Calinde would soon learn.But if asked she would glady recite the tales of Sun and wood elves aswell. Her knowledge of Wild elven heros was somewhat lacking in comparison to the others unless she was asked of Evermeetian wild elves.

She was a busy young elf ineed.

[Wolfshear]

Selengil had been busy since his return to the village...In light of the weakening of Rhys he begun his work helping to restore power to the wards and assist in maintaining them as best he could.

He could also be seen scouting locations around Doron Amar..If asked what he was doing he would mention something about "New tricks" should the refuge come under threat again.

As he busied himself with the wards and assisting Rhys...He left a pair of Earth elementals available to help with the rebuilding efforts...The creatures instructed to follow any orders pertaining to the general restoration.

[Lambe]

Lambe gathers his belongings. After the events that had transpired the past few days, he knew it was time to move on. Heaving his pack over his back, he makes his way across the bridge and raises a hand up back to the rangers who have become his companions those past weeks. He disappears into the woods in the dark of night.

[beneviolent]

////Funeral event Sunday Nov 18. DM Void will pick a time.

Ele approaches everyone as she travels the regions of Gullykin and Doron Amar.

"Cousins, it is time to honor the fallen. Let us gather to honor and celebrate the Ascension of Elven Spirits to Arvandor. Let us gather to speak of their deeds and character. Sywyn and fallen deserve no less. May Sehanine guide their spirits journey. May the songs of past generations be sung in victory and celebration. "



// (i am unavalable this weekend, but expect to hear about a great victory celebration next week)

[Hoihe]

Calinde would inquire with her visitors as to where Selengil Harkonis is.

[Emperor_Krayt]

Teu would mention upon her next visit that she had seen the wizard a few nights ago wihtin Doron Amar. "Shall I ask of him to visit thee, wouldst I chance into him?" She asked while she conciders Awerëons words when last they talked.

[Hoihe]

"I'd be thankful very, yes!" Calinde explains.

[beneviolent]

Ele stepped slowly across the littered ground of the forest. She paused, her eyes viewing the wreckage of war. A Black Orc lay dead where it had fallen. A fitting end to the savages hunger she thought in this month of Uktar, The Rotting. Some vile Orc God must be reveling in this putrescent decay. She knelt, sprinkling her holy water over the beast. Gathering her strength she called on Sehanine's blessing to prevent the dead from rising again. "May the peace of death rest eternal. Let nature be nourished and grow anew," she concluded, lest the SharpTeeth Woods become another macabre Field of the Dead.


She grew weary, performing this ritual again and again, crossing the corriders of destruction wrought by the war. She sat on a fresh stump, recently felled for the savages bonfires, and rested as night fell. Above her the sky turned purple, darkening to black. The first stars of the night winked from afar.


Reading the stars, she considered the constellations above. "The Dagger" was still raised in the sky, but only it's pommel, for Ilneval's blade would not rise above the horizon again this season. "Shaundral, The Drifting Star" erratically pulsed in brilliance, an odditiy among the heavenly bodies. The lore and stories of it always concerned with misfortune. "Osiris" a bright star in the southern sky glowed brightest. Some legends called it the gateway to the Realm of the Dead.

In the southern sky "The Sentinel" stood tall and proud.

It reminded her of Sywyn, the valiant hero of Doron Amar. His Ascension would soon be celebrated.

She remembered now, of his strength, his blond hair and braids, the soft step of his elven boots. His kind words. His office door, kept propped open by his foot while he sat at his desk, ready to share in other tasks at hand. She remembered, how on a mission to Durlag's Tower, she walked at his side, confident she would be unharmed in the upcoming battle, sheltered from harm by his prodigious prowess. How he balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to pounce with the ferocity of a lion. He gentle generosity, sharing items from the armory. She remembered him standing quietly at a fest, arms crossed, his axes hanging from his belt, fondly watching his kin.

His name would be branded in her mind with this constellation. Bards would sing of his deeds. His glory would be celebrated.

Kin would cry and smile and sing blessing him, Ascending to Arvandor. Sehanine would shepard Sywyn's spirit to the gate of Arvandor. Correllon's grace and the First Forest would be his reward.


///reminder.. Sunday ceremonial rites.. time tbd.

[Hoihe]

Each day Silias visits Calinde, after being moved to the tent, she would have practised walking with the help of the stout priestess. On the 16th day of this month, she managed to do around a score of steps on her own. She might be able to fend for herself very soon, but it's clear she is still weak. She requests a walking cane from Silias so she can try to walk around Doron Amar using it to support herself.


((November 17th: Recover from being bedridden
January 10th, give or take based on further trauma or effectiveness of Silias's care: Recover to full strength. Mechanically, if by whatever miracle I could level over level 17, I won't until January 10th or what day is sensible. That is to represent not recovering to full strength.

CorruptedDisciple, can you get a mundane quaterstaff for Calinde from maltz by tomorrow, for the meeting?

[Maverick 40]

The Last Rites of Sywyn

A procession of elves could be seen making their way under the cover of night through the Sharpteeth Woods. Several priestess walk ahead, warriors carrying a body shrouded in white silk and many more elves carrying candles follow quietly with their faces turned toward the earth. Councilor Sywyn's body is being returned to Doron for it's last rights and many have come to pay their respects to this valiant man.



((Tomorrow Sunday at 6pm EST))

[Hoihe]

After the meeting Calinde Elestar was escorted to Candlekeep by Teuvaelivae Sigedaoin and Tomanlor.

[Hoihe]

Calinde still hasn't returned, however, a sparrow brought word to a Doron Amar resident that she is on her way back. Considering her current overland speed, thanks to being weakened, she might miss the Hero's funeral.


((Since 6 PM EST is midnight for us hungarians, and europeans, I won't be able to attend without sacrificing my competence at school on the monday.))

[Emperor_Krayt]

(( her song would have simular melody to this song. But imagen a weaker minder voice not so strong and powerfull as in this. Also dont mind the language ))

[Emperor_Krayt]

*She started to sing in a harmonious tone, genlte and mournful with soft trasitions as the funeral proccession marched thought the woods of sharp teeth with the late Councilor and General*

Sywyn Ma'fer from near and far
Adorn scar to dames keepest afar
Thy high repute char not that gar
Sywyn Ma'fer our star of Amar
orcs he hath mar their path to bar
Sywyn Ma'fer of Solonar
Sywyn Ma'fer of Solonar

Whom lost a tip of his ear whit no fear.
Gan to them meet still youth in year
glistering axes of twins in hand he bear

Beat doth the drums of war in yonder wood.
Beat doth the drums of war in yonder wood.
Farewell our lion of pride
farewell to our forlorn hope
farewell to our brother true
No more beats the drums of war in yonder wood
No more beats the drums of war in yonder wood
Nay more beats the heart of our hero General
Nay more beats the heart of our hero General
Singst again the rills and trees meek and sweet.
So doth thy heart singst still in ours enternal to par.
Nay no more our mortal eyes shall seest thee again.
Nay no more our mortal eyes shall seest thee again.

How sorrowful the howl that ring trough moonlit night
Thy friend most true Aedin thee calls to again be nigh.
By his loyal lamentation we are to bleak into slight.
Along northern river bank he vigil still yearn to reunite.

*she breaks the harmony in a sudden fluxation and her voice sing with a soul chilling sharp and harsh tone. As a battle hymn sung admist the fray to steel the troops*
So well shadow did him clad, as to Gullykin forth he gan! Broken sheilds! shatterd swords! Armor cleaved! Foes forced to kneel. The name of ruin his axes bore, that knowest well the demon Jed and orcs so black. Even dragons he felled with ease! As the steel he weiled! Forever their heart shall shiver and shake in fear of thy martial might. The coast he traversed from north to south, no stranger to his feet thou mayest here find. Tread now what untrodden lands of immortals. Look not back at the weeping crowd for there we shall seest thee again.
*her voice grew soft and into the same harmony as before*

Vanira him plead to us lead
behight her bede so by deed
he thus accede stour her meed.
whilest seek a war that breed,
lands of hin to bleed for need
to oust human greed to be freed.

From mortal sights,
thine eye seest night.
done are thy fight
passed hath our plight
proven are thy might
hence free take to flight,
to seek thy hearts delight

Our Sywyn Ma'fer from here and there
from here and there, from here and there

wander well the unbound woods
fish in the ever flowing streams
hunt neith the foilage eternal
speedeth now an linger not,
whereto thy spirit long hot.

The forest thy sole mistress
in her embrace thou belong
lust for another heart,
not in that lion dwelled.
True his love but one
as the knyght to his dame.
Never stouped to shame.

Thy duty done
Our victory won
bright as the sun.
mourn our son
star that shone
whom now gone

Our Sywyn Ma'fer from here and there
from here and there, from here and there.