Hello dear reader. Welcome to Shandril's terrible journal of scattered pages and entries, short stories and whatever odd ideas I might get, please be considerate of how you use the potential IC knowledge within I will try and make it clear when the entries are available knowledge for all and feel free to forward any questions or critique towards me in a private message. Further more I appologise for any poor grammar and spelling as english is not my native language.
Thank you kindly
Ith
18th of Uktar, in the year 1352 by Dalereckoning.
In wake of the previous evenings eclipse, Shandril departed Baldurs Gate at first moonlight, through the nothern gate and walked along the Chionthar river to the clearing she had taken such a liking to.
Nightingales sang softly in the hedges nearby and from atop the few scattered Birch tree's around the clearing, swaying gently as the evening breeze rustling through the leaves. She began to make her arrangements, carefully placing light imbued gemstones in a pattern mimicing the possition of the Tears in the nightsky on the previous evening. The seven sapphires shone brightly as she murmured the cantrips, rekindling the light spells and affirming their correct alignment.
She placed her lantern aside and took two flasks from her bags, mixing the fluids within in a bowl carefully possitioned in resembelence of Selüne perched high in the starlit heavens.
Shandril removed her blue linen robes adorned with moonstones and gently took a seat in the dew laden grass, wearing but her thin silken moondress and the circlet upon her head. She smiled as she began to recite the verses she knew so well, yet had been remissed of for so long, her boon was not divine but she practised the nightstalks regardless.
"Seven stars, in seven sea's, seven lights I shine to thee.."
She had always felt a need to express her own appreciation as well, her mother had always laughed and said such was encouraged. But she wondered if in truth that was why she never recieved answer? She shrugged of the thought and proceeded with the chant, her gaze locked upon the moon as nightgloom approached.
"In evening's silent passing"
"I wait upon thy greeting"
"To usher in the nightfall"
"And shelter souls a-sleeping."
"I sit beside the lake-side"
"Observing thy reflection"
"And gentle lake-waves glisten"
"And grant to me direction."
Her eyes glistened in the pale moonlight as her thoughts drifted far and wide, she rose above the clouds and mingled with the stars in a sea of light and wonder, awash with a sensation of euphoria and bliss. But for a glimpse of a moment, her concentration faltered and it was gone, as a fleeting memory written in the stars enveloping her in their benevolent light. Yet she felt cold and frail, shivering in the void between the lights as they seemed to recoil. The distance grew longer, the lights dispersing for the shadows, darkness engulfed and quenched every star in the sea of night, till but the moon remained.
Rays of lucid moonlight shone upon her as she hung weightlessly in the void, mesmerized by the sparkle of the Moon, she began to tremble and fall, the light snuffed out in a heartbeat, but there was nothing bellow her but a vast chasm of endless darkness. She wanted to lift her head, to gaze longingly at the brilliant light above but she was fading in to nothingness as a shadow amongst the shadows for all eternity.
A distant whisper rose in the darkness, the words muffled and faint, but she knew them in her heart as a fond memory, like a mothers caress. Softly she whispered in response, echoing the voice as it faded and repeating the phrases in her native Chondathan.
"In her shadow I walk"
"Traversing space and time"
"I am versed in her mysteries"
"She is the one who enlightens me."
The words rung through her head like an echo rising in volume, she shook her head and opened her eyes slowly. The chill of the ocean breeze blowing through the thin silken dress send a shiver down her spine as she rose to her feet and recollected her thoughts.
Hours had passed and the Five Wanderers were spread across the western hemisphere in the sea of night, peculiar that Karpri would be in the Third decan of the Wheel and that quardrant she thought as she wrapped her linen robes around her again.
As she began to chart their possitions she thought of home and of that day, seven years ago on the morrow, when she had suffered so. How it reminded her of the omens then and an autumn eclipse that long ago she had gazed at in wonder, yet this had been different and the omens laid before her filled her with doubt. Omens such as these could have large influences on individuals as well as collectively, could it relate to similar sightings hundreds of years ago she pondered. Could it relate to the Killer Star, the dragons rage, could it be omens of struggles to come, wars looming on the horizon and blood to be spilled? She would have to conduct further studies and consult others she knew, but a feeling of dread for the days ahead lingered in the back of her mind.
Last edited by Ithilan on Mon Feb 06, 2017 12:07 am, edited 2 times in total.
A sheet of blue tinted paper dances in the coastal breeze as it is swept up and down the trade way, the ink is fresh and likely the author did not mean to part with it.
The last line ends with a smeer of ink as if the sheet was torn from the hands of the author.
Last edited by Ithilan on Sat Jun 09, 2018 1:56 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Along the Winding Water just north of the Boareskyr Bridge sits a figurine beneath a tall willow tree, dabbled in robes of a dark violet hue and a cloak to match it. Leaning back against the treetrunk with a gentle smile upon her fair features, the platinum blonde haired woman scribbles away on the pages of a thick leather bound journal.
The Moonknight shuts her journal and begins to arrange her possessions neatly in the small satchel she carries, she pulls her hood up then departs the site at a high pace in an eastern direction.
Last edited by Ithilan on Thu Jun 07, 2018 1:46 pm, edited 1 time in total.
As placid moonlight falls upon the meadows north of Baldurs Gate, a lonely figurine stands amidst the hedges and trees of a secluded grove near the bend of the river Chionthar in an eastern direction. She lifts her gaze to the moon and raises her arms with open palms as the thin silken robes she was draped in falls to the ground, her pale white skin glistens from the dew and sweat as she clasps her hands around a moonstone pendant hung around her neck as she softly begins chanting in a faint whisper.
Silver Lady nestling in the midnight sky,
Shine your ageless wisdom upon our souls.
Guide us and nourish our spirits with your mysteries
So that we may flourish and grow under your beauty.
Oh goddess of light, teach us the truths we so desire
And let us bathe in your silver aura.
Cleanse our bodies in your purifying light
And uplift our minds with your magic and majesty.
So shall we honour you with our hearts
And forever follow your illuminated path
To the centre of our souls.
Mother moon, O'Selûne shine your light upon me.
Removing her hands from the pendant she steps in to a circle of carefully possitioned gemstones, shining brightly from the brilliant moonlight and the spells bound within the gemstones, she once more holds her arms out to each side with open palms turned upwards, closing her eyes as her feet parts with the wet grass and her necklace begins to glow with an iridescent light dancing in the facets of the gemstone. Her softly spoken voice raises in volume as she opens her eyes and levitates higher in to the air, chanting in her native Chondathan with her gaze locked on the moon.
My heart gravitates to her,
My skin radiates in her light,
My being pulsating in her presence,
She is the one who reflects all that I am
A blissful smile creeps over her lips as tears stream down her cheeks from her bright blue eyes, she gasps and breathes heavily, reciting the chanting more passionately and with an unwavering resolve.
Bathed in her radiance,
She bestows life upon me,
Lifetime after lifetime,
She is the one who restores my soul.
The waves of her tide beckon me,
Gravitating and pulling me closer to my destiny,
To walk among the stars,
She is the one I serve eternally.
Arching her back as she exhales a long drawn breath, she drifts in thought and enters a trance like state, hovering ten feet above the ground in rays of brilliant moonlight glistening in her long free flowing silvery hair, the star sapphires bellow begin to fade in their light and eventually crumble to dust as the priestess ascends in a catatonic state to lie paralyzed or entranced in the soft grass of the meadows, as the last light of the moon fades for the dawn and fresh ocean breeze rolls over the country side. Shivering, cold and seemingly frail to those she pass, the priestess returns to the temple in the Gate with hastened steps on her bare feet and huddled under a thick cloak made from the pristine hide of some majestic creature.
6th of Alturiak in the year 1353 by Dalereckoning.
Along the mouth of the Chionthar where the wide river meets the Sea of Swords at the outskirts of Ulgoths Beard a woman draped in a light aqua blue gown sits upon a stone and dips her bare feet in the cold waters. Occasionally her gaze drifts out over the ocean as her breathing slows and she scans the horizon with a gleam in her eyes that speaks of yearning and longing.
Rising to her feet and finding sure footing between the slippery and razor sharp rocks, she moves to the shore and wiggles her wet feet in the cold sand before reaching in to a satchel and placing a small journal in her lap while she scribbles with a white chalk pen.
As she finishes her entry she closes her eyes and attunes herself to the sounds around her, the monotonous breaking of the waves upon the shore and the distant screeching of seagulls, she sits mesmerized by the moons reflection in the water, till finally she rises and removes her robe, she closes her eyes as she begins to wander in to the ocean quietly if but shivering from the cold waters slightly, untill she is fully submerged and finally opens her eyes again, staring at the gleaming moonlight breaking through the waters.
Last edited by Ithilan on Thu Jun 07, 2018 1:48 pm, edited 1 time in total.
A scent of mountain flowers despite the increasing chill factor of the wind and sudden temperature drop, it was all affirming to Shandril, she was making a fine pace.
There was something odd about going south along the Coast Way, it felt like going home, though she was moving even further from it in truth. The promise of the peaks on the horizon and that mountain air, clear as the autumn moon in the nightskies, it filled her with a sensation of calm and yet a home sickness she had thought buried. But for the similarities in weather and the nature, this was not home she thought as she entered the hamlet of Nashkel.
The guardsmen nodded in passing as she paused atop the small bridge leading over the river. Churning waters had always reminded her of the river Rauvin and her favorite place in all of Silverymoon, the Maidens Crossing. But there were no shrines to the Moonmaiden here, nor for many miles around, but worship to Our Lady in Silver did not require it either and along the Greenfields the radiance of the ancient mother goddess was truly something to marvel at.
She made her way to the Northern Lights Inn and exchanged a few words with the innkeeper, renting a room for the coming two days and bidding him arrange for a warm bath along with supper, the road had been long after all, though without complications, it was rare for her to depart the temple for this long.
A peculiar name for a place so far south, but then again if you go all the way south, everything will be north, the thought made her smile as she paused to gaze out the window at the foot of the staircase."Truly you tease me"she said out loud at the sight of the spring snow falling lightly, it had hastily covered the town in a brilliant white sheet. Shaking her head subtly as she turned away from the window, this would only cause her further delay and in these parts, like home, the weather would often be your worst enemy.
She ascended the staircase to find her room and a hearth to get warm by, even for her it was a cold day, here at the foothills of the Cloud Peaks. She would have to force herself to eat more than usual, so the journey up to the mountains would not be as taxing, if a blizzard should set in or the pass would freeze, it may be the difference between life or death as well, something she would not soon forget from those days many years ago, when caught in the Frost Hills by the wrath of the Winter Goddess.
A shiver ran down her spine as she entered the dimly lit room, that name filled her with more anger now than dread, but she would reserve it, bury it and wait, for that moment when vengance would be dealt, without mercy. Dark thoughts of darker days crept over her as she put another pair of logs on the fire, she would not err again, but nor would she sit idly and let the shadows encroach as the moonlight wanes. Tomorrow would not be the day of reckoning, nor the day that followed, but a foundation to be laid for the future labors. This endeavor was imparative, but secrecy and sublety was equally paramount, hopefully few in Nashkel would recognise her as but an itinerant priestess, perhaps it would serve her well to perform at the inn tonight, before Nights Heart was upon them and the nightgloom would allow her to quietly depart. A travelling bardess at a tavern was seldom asked for more than an encore, but no, such would only draw further attention perhaps, or raise questions, she would be best suited without either and perhaps remaining in her room would be the wisest. Besides she would not want to run in to that fletcher here either, he would certainly recognise her for the mess she had made on her last visit to Nashkel, perhaps others would as well, she had come here often many moons ago, of all the places in this part of the coast, it was the one that resembled home the most and her favorite.
Daylight faded as the afternoon was near spent and in the evenings silent passing she would meditate, pray and hone her mind for the stillness required to do battle, such as she knew best, with silver, song and spell under the placid moonlight.
"In darkness, I shall be light."
The muffled whisper of a prayer made her smile confidently, she nodded slowly as her bright sky blue eyes peered into the brilliant light of the Dragon Lantern of Silverfire, here amongst the dim lights he would shine all the brighter. A tingling sensation crawled up her arms, goosebumps spread over her pale skin, her eyes widdened as she smirked, the light flickered but for a moment before pulsating with a sparkle of pure starlight. It was time she knew, time to make the final preperations, time to don her mithral armor and shield, a time to make ammends for transgressions against the goddess, a time to fufill old oaths and bring the sword.
Last edited by Ithilan on Thu Jun 07, 2018 1:49 pm, edited 1 time in total.
An open journal lays upon a bench near the stream running from Doron Amar, the author is no where in sight and a faint scent of fresh ink is carried on the breeze, yet the entry seems old, rehearsed and recited. Each word barely sustained on the thin sheet of blue hued paper, as if the quill was pressed too hard, or the words written repeatedly atop each other.
Last edited by Ithilan on Thu Jun 07, 2018 1:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Beneath a waning gibbous moon sits a figurine by the churning river in Naskhel, glancing at the fraction of Selûne's disc that is illuminated she narrows her gaze and scribbles idly in a journal. Strands of raven black hair fall freely from under the hood of the woman and elaborate patterns painted in a blue hue cover the upper part of her face. Donned in robes of a deep blue and almost black shade she pulls the matching cowl further over her head, scribbles a few lines more and tears the page from its book and lets it dance along the riverbank in the gentle evening breeze, before she departs with hastened steps in an eastern direction.
As dawn breaks upon the hamlet of Nashkel the woman returns bloodied and bruised, yet smiling faintly as she drags herself to the gazebo overlooking over the southern slopes of the town. She hums softly in a soothing voice as she tends to her injuries and is seen conversing with her lantern repeatedly, though no answers are ever heard from those who pass her by and the demeanor of the woman seems to drastically change with the increasing sunlight. Fatigue is evident on her features as she passes out in a corner of the gazebo, wrapped in bandages and her bloodied clothes.
The summer breeze gently rolling over grassy plains and hills. Gently tickling underfoot, as the morning dew gives way for the warmth of dawn. A familiar sight yet all anew, this place they called a trail yet the meadows of the Greenfields stretched farther and were truly beautiful at this time of year. Puzzling still why wicked deeds of evil men would give name to such serene places, when in truth the hero that slew him would have been more worthy there of. Uldoon's Doom was never a ballad that Shandril appreciated much, yet the site of the struggle it described was a place of fond memories to her. Shivers went down her spine as the wind changed direction, was it a mistake to come this way again she pondered.
All those nights at prayer in the Moonshadow Hall, all the evenings of silent contemplation atop Sêlune's stair in the House of the Lady and to what end? Here she was after all, moving backwards and not forwards as intended. Was it doubt or guilt that gnawed at her, fear or excitement. Emotions with many similarities and so hard to discern lest you still your heart and take the time to savor the surge of emotions, for that she had found was affirmation of life, the good with the bad.
Blades of grass grown anew and no doubt as like to wither come fall, but it all seemed familiar in a haunting and eerie way that made her uncomfortable. Something was different inside of her, she could feel the hole and emptiness of a void building up as she let her thoughts stray far and wide and only by tempering the uncertainty and mustering her courage with each further step would she find the absolution she sought. A spiritual voyage without end it felt like, yet had she been bereft of it all along, had she left it behind only to seek it anew?
So many unanswered questions now gnawed at her, where as serenity had felt granted in the temples of Cormyr and Sembia.
"What are you doing you idiot, turn back."
The words escaped her mouth as but a frail whisper carried hastily away over the windswept hills. But it was too late for such, she knew. There would be no turning back now, her pilgrimage was at its end and it was time to make amends for selfish decisions that had now tormented her for the better part of the last two lunar cycles. Was it wrong to confide in her sisters, they had after all urged her to make this journey and claimed it was not selfishness but vulnerability that all are subject to. She had believed in their words till now, but the last steps are often as difficult as the first and there was no telling what lied in store.
Almost petrified by the sight of the first chimneys smoke, she paused and inhaled deeply. Clenching the lantern in her hand ever tighter as its flames flickered and the silverfire within grew to a brighter light than usual at this time of day, she scoffed and nodded.
"I know Kalinth, it is Nashkel and as close to a homely feeling as ive had in many years, light my path old friend and give me the strength I need to see this through."
Each step felt heavier than the last as she slowly made her way in to the hamlet, biting on her lower lip as she always did when nervous. The last time she had been here felt like a life time ago and she had been clad in a crusaders garments, blood drenched and exhausted with raven black hair she had dyed with lead. It had all washed out now and she felt more herself at heart also, but for the emptiness she had let fester for so long. Pulling her dark blue cowl further over her head she made her way for the inn and prayed for a good days rest after the exhausting journey. Tomorrow was not today and patience is a virtue they say, but hesitance can be a toll on her indecisive nature she knew, but this was but one of many paths that would eventually lead her home.
30th of Flamerule in the year 1354 by Dalereckoning.
Mist rose over the meadows as the sun began emerging on the horizon, the dew laden grass drank from its warmth and the tiny droplets that had been such a delightful chill under her bare feet now vaporized and ascended from the fields and flowers, like a soul uplifted and soaring towards the celestial planes, or so she thought.
It reminded her of past events and recent alike, how lovers entwined in a perpetual dance of affection would soar high above this mortal coil, rather than be earth bound here as she felt. Some yearn for a place to grow roots and that calling of home and belonging, yet some are doomed to wander restlessly till at last they are free of the burdens that weigh upon them and in that moment of release, shall find serenity and absolution. She believed it still, this was not beyond her, no matter what darkness she had traversed or what past events had marred her purity of soul and heart.
The lantern in her hand flickered as the first beams of molten gold touched upon the frame of the dragon figures, their ruby eyes sparkled in contrast to the fading silvery light of the lantern itself and she heard his faint whispers in her head. Muffled and distant, the words were difficult to make out, till his voice rang clearer in her head and though it still had the ring of a young and infant creature, his resolution and determination was plain to her, the one word he spoke like a command and she nodded in accord and repeated the draconic word in her native Chondathan.
"Home"
Did such a place still exist she wondered? Cirindel was dead, her foster mother who had made her childhood a bliss, her sisters seldom lingered in one place too long and though the High Moonmistress Shalyssa Lurialar would no doubt welcome her, she had several hundred brothers and sisters to attend to, the politics of the city and the commitments of her office. It was feeble to even think she would offer her more than common courtesy and council, but that was not what she desired.
Memories of a childhood romance, a first kiss by the Rauvin river, the Maidens Crossing at full moon and all the knowledge of he many establishments she frequented in her youth, how the Vault of Sages would seem like the most vast collection in all of Faerun to her then, but now she was far wiser, older and so too was her heart.
She had traveled as far east as Sembia now and further west than most she knew as well, when in her early twenties she visited the Purple Rocks, luckily no sea voyage were required for this journey, the Trackless Sea had been rough back then and she had seldom ever set foot on a boat out of its dry dock since.
Was this the road she meant to tread though? All those years ago when Kalinth Mesianth was left in her care and her dear friend, a kindred spirit if not a manipulative harpy, she was still in doubt at times, had laid the guardianship of his soul and her own upon her shoulders, she made a solemn vow to return one day. But she had always perceived that day to be among her last on this plane, as it had been then in that seemingly ancient past, a prolonged journey that should have met its end long ago. Those were the thoughts in the confinement and solitude of dark evenings, when the light of her lantern gave way for the brilliant hues of red flames from a hearth or campfire, or when Selune struck her silver rays against his infinite luminescent soul. Thoughts of hopelessness, insignificance and despair, she felt the darkness clawing at her in an attempt to pull her astray, out of the light and spiraling in to the void once more. There were those she loved here, of all her heart, a brother she had never known yet always had been there, a lover that was the voice of reason and contemplation, that affirming and gentle silence that spoke louder than words ever could, tempered her wandering mind and thoughts when she needed it most.
But this was on her, it always had been, a solitary path to walk as Cálithil had professed. Kalinth Mesianth would be there, to read her thoughts and in his cryptic answers she found more bewilderment than reassurances. It was time to journey north, to confront a past and see anew the city of her birth and eventually, the depths of the high forest where she had died all those many years ago.
She entered the Northern Lights Inn and made for her room, her things were already packed and she had paid for her extended stay in kind, the Innkeep had often asked how long she intended to stay for, but she had never been able to answer in earnest and thus paid a tenday in advance. She paused in front of the mirror and put her lantern aside, the gentle rays of the sun struck through the clear windows of the establishment and on to her face with a gentle summers warmth, but she did not recognize herself any more.
A woman grown, that never should have been. A singular tear streamed down her cheek and as it dripped from her cheekbone, it hovered in the air, spiraling upwards and encircling her silver hair, its brilliant transparent watery form gave way to the light, it manifested and began to shine with a hue of blue light, joining in with the other moonmotes now. The tears of Selûne she thought, but anger rose in her heart, she did not need to be watched over or warded against the encroaching darkness, she would face it head on, alone.. as she had always been.
In an instant she dispelled the lights and gathered her possessions, pulling a the dark blue cowl of her travelling attire deep over her head and departed Nashkel in a flurry of a haste spell, North, she would head North, till nothing was North any more.
