
*Aloria awakens from a nightmare, sweat dripping down her face, the leaves she is sleeping on matted by wet clumps of leaves. The dream fades quickly but she remembers a final glimpse of a part of her troubled past. She is chained to a wall in a dark place. A male drow wizard with arms folded stares down at her. He barks a command to Aloria. Aloria refuses to answer or obey, defiance burning her eyes. Before the wizard can scorch her with arcane flame Aloria awakens with a nightmarish shout. The lingering laughter of Bal'hal, sinister and out of place, lingers while she shakes the dream out of her mind*
Normally Aloria stays hidden in the shadows, observing, but never interacting. Weary of humans and even her own people, she stays to herself, a solitary hermit. However, tired of poor sleep, she sook distraction. And so finds it by the fire near the Friendly Arm Inn and engages in conversation with a human warrior named Nathaniel and an armor clad warrior named Yuri who claims to be an elf. When Aloria asks an innocent question about elves of the region, Yuri, without much prompting, discusses on how much he dislikes the elves of Doron Amar, preferring the elves of the other village of En Darashae. Enquiring disinterstedly it turns out that the other elves are preferred by Nathaliel because they are isolationists. While Yuri feels the elves of Doron Amar think soley in black and white terms, not tolerating any view about the drow other then the obvious, that they are evil and not to be trusted. Without much consideration, when Aloria agrees with the elves of Doron Amar, Yuri accuses her of black and white thinking, and not being open minded enough about the possibility of a good drow who was otherwise a victim of bad parentage. Aloria politely leaves.
Rather then finding solace and distraction Aloria finds she is concerned for Doron Amar. Are there still elves who are divisive and seek to undermine the safe harbor of her people? It apeers to be the case to her chagrined mind, at least with this gossip. Nowhere is there safety from the hatred and evil will of mortals. She must face the shadows of her past in order to be there for her people. The shadows that hide behind every tree that she, in a manner, planted with the first council long ago. The faces of Mauglir and his brother, who hid the secret of Maurglir's betrayal, one she considered an honorable friend, still stung her. Galen's subterfuge and working with Mauglir to destroy Doron Amar because they felt the presence of the village would imbalance nature caused her to question her people's motives. Could elven druids truly work for the destruction of the elven people and their desire for a home? Galen, who was like a father to her, as well as an esteemed elder druid. Rhysdan, a worthless fool, who inspite of her swords skewering him, was able to return to spread malice and pretend to take down Doron Amar from within. Elrithmithrade, who fell to perversion then disapeered never to be found again. Then Bal'hal, her failure and her seducer, who later became a shadow stalking her and taunting her while she became a slave to a mage in the region of Sshamath, where she lingered for years until she finally escaped. And who was it who tasked the slavers who captured Aloria and brought her to the underdark. This one thought hunted her with each "cycle" in that dark place. Was it the Charnag, the secret guardians of Sshamath that Aloria so often skewered, led by Izz'orgoll. Or was it Rhysdan and his shadow druid supporters? Perhaps it was the Shadow druids themselves? And as Aloria walked the life of a slave in the depths of the underdark the voice of Solonor became weaker until it went silent. She was alone. Truly alone.
Then Bal'hal, the bard drow, or sho she believed, found her. At first he was in his true form, a vampire drow. Then as pure shadow. While she believed it was him, a more astute mind may have seen an alternative possibility. In either form he taunted her and mocked her for believing that a drow could change and love. The shadow would strip her of the dignity of her innocence and youth with it's accusations and damn her with the judgment of a victor over its victim. Of a free person over a slave. Of a powerful entity and a pathetic, forgotten, and abandoned slave. Defeated and beaten. Abandoned. Cycle upon cycle. Year after year the taunts would whisper from the shadows. Aloria never answered the accusations, but she could not help but listen.
But as time went on a new voice was slowly heard. Aloria became convinced that it was the voice of Corellon that beckoned her to escape her wizard drow captor. Supporting her to make an escape. At first she thought it was her own thoughts. But she became convinced that it was his subtle whispers. She had been tested and cleansed of her past, by these experiences, so she felt. She was ready to leave. Her suffering was complete and coming to an end. She was meant to fight on. To make her way to the surface. Somehow. The voice of Corellon on one side, and the shadow of Bal'hal taunting her at the other, she killed the mage who imprisoned her. This mage who refused to give her freedom, while taking everything from her without her consent. She roamed the tunnels of the undedark for a year before finding the way out. There was no rest. But there was hope. Making it to the surface she nearly froze to death near the cloudpeak mountains. She thought she saw an elf come to help her on the frozen mountains, but instead, her body was left, and her swords gone and taken. Something brought her back to life and she wandered the forests for months as her mind was slowly remembering her true identity and seeking healing. Until finally she emerged and made herself known again to her people.
And so it was that her feet brought her to Doron Amar, seemingly by their own volition. The calm and peace of the village was astounding, erasing a recent past of impossible suffering that would have crushed most into despair or death. Clearly Mauglir and Galen were wrong. Nature was in perfect ballance here. Rhysdan was proven the fool everyone saw him for. His life and attempts to detroy Doron Amar a failure. Now the voice of Corellon weclomed Aloria as she entered the Oak Home while the shadow of Bal'hal, still snickering, was but a faint whisper behind her. Was the madness and bruality of the last decade finally behind her? Was she free, truly free, a slave no longer to the drow mage and the torments of Bal'hal?
Aloria prayed at the altar of Angharradh seeking help. And help came in the form of a druidess of Rillifane Rallathil named Naer'eanque. This one was kind and thoughtful. Sensitive and gentle. She spoke of renewal and healing. She listened and treated Aloria as a sister. Aloria spoke of her past and her wounds. She prayed with Naer'eanque. The whisper of Bal'hal was gone. All she could see was the beauty of Doron Amar. All the suffering. The many seasons of bringing the elves of the gate together to form onefaction. One family. The betrayals. The abandoments. Doron Amar lived. After all these years and fallen leaves. How is it possible? Corellon's voice lingers in the forests of Doron Amar. Aloria has not yet found his altar or statue of his form, but it is only a matter of time.
Meeting with the Captain of the Mathora she shares a heart to heart conversation. A strong guardian protects Doron Amar. And, interestingly enough, her hair is worn just as she had worn her own hair when she founded Doron Amar with the first council. And what is more. A miracle. There was a child! Children live in Doron Amar. The village named by the name she created. Protected by guardians named by herself. Guarded by a warrior who kept her hair in the same style she did in those days past. Wielding two swords just as she had.
Aloria walked to her friend the merchant female elf called by last name Moonshadow and they silently held each other. The tears flooded her eyes. Aloria was no longer hiding. She was facing the shadows of her past. She had a new pair of swords. She was no longer the naive female who trusted easily or simply because of heritage. But she was also no longer the same patient elven woman. She had not returned to save anyone or anything. She came back a hardened weapon. Forged in the darkness. Tempered by shadows and flame. Sharp as a razor. Seeking death not for herself, but for those twisted by the darkness she herself had escaped. Lolth be dammed. Drow be dammed. Those who stand against Doron Amar? Something Aloria has learned from her captivity. The quiet. The shadow. There is no escape from one who has learned the lesson of patience as a slave to the drow for a decade. Freedom and life has a whole new meaning. The children of Doron Amar will rest safely. Those who threaten these children will not find mercy.