Tales of the Sword Coast: The Elven People

[Maverick 40]

This topic is designed to help build the environment, roleplay and comradie of those players who play elves on this server. It is meant to offer IC stories, journal entries and descriptions of the minority Tel'quessir peoples of the Sword Coast. There are many different stories, elves and cultures to be explored here which are all welcome to those who would contirbute. This topic is meant for the elves of En Dharasha Everae, Doron Amar and those who have yet to find a home along this coast.

Let us all contribute, share and build this world from which we might all grow. I look forward to all that may be offered. Let's have fun

[Maverick 40]

The 1st of Flamerule, The Year of the Spur
(June 1st, 2012)

The Story of Celdurin

The Beginning of the Black Orc War

Celdurin was playing, as the precocious boy often did, in front of Doron’s noble Tower. He did so after taking his youth lessons with the Master of the Tower Rhys’ Feivra but this day somehow seemed different to the boy.

He had spent his first years in Everska, where his free spirited and loving parents had run a small vinyard. But, as with anything, chance and opportunity brought them here just five years ago in the hopes of establishing a fine orchard from which to live off. He was bright lad who had excelled in his studies. Yet, here he was standing before the tower confused by what was going on around him.

His parents who would normally join him each afternoon to play, were not present, all of the artists who sold their wares before Evran’s Jest were no where to be found, nor the Bards whom sung great hymns for no other reason than as if to exclaim the beauty of the ordinary day…..

Where were they, he thought and began to look around. It was then that he began to see that which would soon change his world irrevocably. He at first heard the pounding sound of hammer on anvil. It beat like a drum coming from the blacksmith. The same blacksmith who remained silent most days. Just then men rushed past, copper skinned men wearing excellent green and brown studded leather armor, carrying bows whose wood seemed to shimmer in the sun. They were the Rangers of Everska, the very ones that his family had taken the trek with here to Doron.

People began moving quickly for their homes, shouts rang amongst the crowd but he was too confused and enthralled to hear exactly what they said. He did not panic but instead seemed quite curious. He slowly began to wonder through the crowds. It was there before the bridge overlooking the river that he saw him. Celdurin did not know his name, he heard others call him Selkerdrim, and the few times Celdurin had seen, this elf always seemed to have a stern look about him.

This elf was tall, and had a wiry build with a sharp face hidden partially beneath a dark hood. He had a bow which looked much like the Everkan, but his face was pale as the moon against the dark hood he wore. The elf spoke in a stern tone, giving commands to others and pointing about the village. It was then that this elf turned to look directly upon Celdurin and his voice silenced. The elf simply stared at Celdurin for but a brief moment, it would make the greatest impression upon Celdurin’s young life.

The elf’s crystal blue eyes had a saddened look about them, as if witnessing a great tragedy before him. Then as Celdurin began to notice this, the elf smiled to him. The Moon Elf’s eyes did not change, on the contrary, they still looked pained but his smile still rang upon his normally stoic face. Celdurin was both confused and comforted by this.

Then his parents came and grabbed him, "Where have you been?”, they implored him. “We looked for you before the tower?”, they continued frantically but the boy continued staring at the Selkerdrim and offered no reply. By this time one of the Selkerdrim’s companions patted him on the shoulder and he moved off still issuing orders to the armed elves whom followed him. Celdurin did not understand what was happening around him, but he knew something was coming that would change his life forever……..

____________________________________________________________________________

The 7th of Flamerule, The Year of the Spur.



Celdurin walked out onto the cobblestone path and witnessed all that was screamed in the night. It was now the early hours, just before dawn, and in the distance vapor continued to rise behind Evran’s Jest. Vapor was all that remained of the blaze that struck the Southern Sword Teeth in the night. Now, as he stood before the Councilors Hall bare-chested, his parents behind him, he would see Doron’s reaction to all that transpired.

Two factions, dozens of elves upon each side, stood facing each other, like two great title waves crashing together upon the steps of the great hall. On one side standing in front was his instructor, the Master of the Tower, Councilor Rhys Fievra. He was a handsome elf whom held his chin high and like a strong oak, did not falter before the winds arrayed against him. These winds blew like a storm from the woman whom stood across from his Master.

Celdurin was too young to adorn women, but at that moment, he thought she must have been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She stood before her people like the statue of some great war Goddess. Her skin golden flecked, her blonde hair falling down upon her dark armor, she stood there with one hand pointing to the sky, and the other in direction of the smoldering wood. Her eyes would never leave the councilor and her words echoed like as if blown from a great gjallarhorn.

For the first time in Celdurin’s young life, he began to feel afraid……


___________________________________________________________________________


The 11th and 22nd of Flamerule, The Year of the Spur.



It had been three days since the Councilor had been taken by the Orcs and a tentative peace was held only by the will of Councilor Rhys Feirva. Celdurin was gathering water within buckets for the men working on the outer defenses, just as he had the past couple of days. He dipped the buckets down into the stream, they would near carry the small boy off in the current each time. But he pulled with all his might in his back, tugging them back out. Tying them together with a rope, he slung the rope over his shoulders and began his staggered walk up the dirt path where the canoes were shipped.

Most of the women were there, washing the sullen clothes of the men and when Celdurin would walk by they would all teasingly scruff up his hair while he was defenseless to stop them. This irritated the boy to no extent, “STOP IT!” he would shout, but it was to no avail for the women just laughed all the harder, including his mother.

He began to kick the dirt, balancing on one leg, out of frustration when the first word went up. “THE COUNCILOR, THE COUNCILOR IS RETURNING,” a scout running the opposite side of the river yelled as he ran toward the village. Celdurin at first did not know what this meant, but he saw everyone else drop their things and run for the entrance path to the Village. He soon followed suit, dropping the buckets to slosh water over the dry ground, he ran as fast as his little legs would carry him.

He ran up the dirt path, over the bridge to the river, and before the Inn. The other grown ups ran by him at first, but when the crowd began to form he crashed into the mob like a small wave upon giant cliffs, squeezing his way through the cracks when he came to see her………

She was being carried by a stretcher up the path while he stood in front of a crowd being ushered to either side to make way. All time seemed to slow for him as he witnessed this event. Everything he touched, everything he saw seemed to be recorded with a strange sense of clarity. He watched intently as this woman, this woman whom was mother to them all, made her way home. He remembered the urgent look on the men’s faces as they carried her, the gasps of the women as she passed, and the sense of awe he felt made him feel melted into this moment in time.

Then she passed, he did not know why but he reached out, as he would for a loved one being torn from him and he felt someone grasp his hand. It was Silias who had reached out to take a hold of his hand. He was shocked but moved immediately with her and the men as if being carried by the current of the river, but this time he would not fight it. He stared up from the bloodied hand to the woman’s terrible scarred face. Celdurin did not flinch, but instead stared at the woman as if she were some great mystery.

Things had happened to Celdurin that he had never thought to imagine before these days, but this moment now would become the greatest of his life, one that he would never forget throughout the centuries. The woman, in spite of all of her terrible afflictions at the hands of the Orcs, looked back to the boy and squeezed his hand. He knew then exactly what she wanted him to do, she did not have to say a word, she wanted him to be strong.

Just then, they were at the doors to the inn and one of the Rangers grabbed the boy and lifted him from the stretcher, breaking the weak grasp of the Councilor. She was quickly carried inside to receive healing, leaving Celdurin standing there in the doorway, the crowd gathering around. He was finally brought back to his reality when his Master Rhys Feivra whom walked behind this procession solemnly walked past patting the boy gently upon the head, then turning and closing the doors.

As the doors were drawn to a close, the crowd began to disperse, with mixed reactions they walked about. Some were jubilant, others somber but none were left untouched by what they just witnessed. His mother came running forth and wrapped him in a warm embrace nearly knocking him over. She grabbed his face, tears in her eyes, then looking down at his now bloodied hands beginning to try and wipe them clean. “Astryia,” a voice Celdurin recognized as surely as his own, spoke from behind his mother.

His mother whipped around to view his father standing there, sweat and dirt covered the man from working in the forest. “Galawyn!”, his mother shouted, jumping into the surprised man arms. He wrapped her in an embrace with one arm, and pulled Celdurin within his embrace with his other. “It’s over Astryia,” he said with a tone whispered from a man exhausted from days of work without reverie. “It’s done”, were the last words Celdurin heard as he embraced his father and mother with all his might, tears falling uncontrollably down his face. Tears not born out of sadness, but rather from that the joy which can only be brought forth from an unconditional love………….


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Days would pass, and rumors of an uneasy truce which left the Orcs on the doorstep of Doron began to surface but the people were happy once more. Their mother had been returned to them and their spirit had been lifted. Now she was going to give the village an address. The bards line the street before the Councilors Hall and the artists paint the scene upon their canvass. A great crowd gathered, this time in all their splendor. The women wore beautiful gowns and the men their finest robes.

His parents stood behind him once again, but he did not need to turn around to see their faces, for he knew they were happy. They did not fight, nor argue since the Councilors return. They kissed and walked together as they watched Celdurin play much as they once had. Celdurin was truly happy once more.

The doors swung open and the Priestess walked forth onto the steps. Her shining saphire armor and cape mystified the crowd and all gaped at her presence. At her sides were two women. One, an elf dressed in simple blue cloth, wearing a magicians hat, and the other, a raven haired human, whom wore what seemed like a peasant’s robe. They both paled in comparison to the majesty of the Councilor but just then another appeared. He was a Half-elf and by the leather armor he wore, Celdurin could tell he was a ranger, even before a beautiful white snow leopard shyly peaked out from the shadows of the doorway to follow in his wake.

The Councilor walked upright but with a cane and when she faltered the Ranger was quickly at her side offering her support. She looked at him with thankful eyes, he turned and his face began to blush, quickly looking down to his feet. She gave him a thankful pat on the cheek and then moved forth another step to stand alone once more. His master, he could see, was standing behind them all, his look stoic as always. However, this endeavor seemed to leave the Councilor looking stretched and thin, as if he had aged somehow within the course of these events.

Just then Celdurin began to wonder about that other elf, the one whom had made the speech those days ago. At first he could not find the man, but then he saw him standing next to a woman under the shade of an oak tree. Celdurin ran out to some paces before where the man stood gazing at the woman next to him. He wore a black jerkin and hood, the same woman who wore the golden armor those days ago was but now wearing a simple robe.

“Selkerdrim!” Celdurin shouted to the man who turned to view the boy. The man’s face did not smile, nor did it look menacing, but something seemed different about him since Celdurin first took notice those days ago. The man’s eyes were no longer sad, he could tell. The woman reacted to the boy’s inquiry by wrapping her arm round the man’s, giving him a slight squeeze. Celdurin could see the woman’s right hand was missing three fingers from it, which she quickly hid when she witnessed the boy’s wonder.

When Celdurin turned back to the Selkerdrim, he gave the boy a slight approving nod, which just as the boy was about to gaze back in question, the Coucilor finally spoke. “Doron, my citizens, my loved ones, my people…….”, she began briefly turning Celdurin’s gaze, but when he went to look back behind him once more, the Selkerdrim and the woman were gone. “You have been brave, and I applaud your courage, do not fear my children for we shall strive to return to strength, as the Almighty Corellon wills us such!!”, Celdurin turned to see his parents embracing while listening to the words of this great woman.

Celdurin stood there alone on the path, looking up before him, but not feeling alone. He looked in front of him to see his parents, his community, and to the Mother of them all. He knew then the last lesson he would need for life, that of faith………