Role

Chapter 2

A Fresh Perspective--An Elven Scythe to Cull.
Added Tue Nov 25 23:06:42 2008 at level 3:

We lived with the Druid Icuhn, in the vale of Arendyl, south of
Darsylon. I was tasked with working the earth, tending the shoots,
developing the growing plants, and harvesting the mature fruits
of the garden. Mother helped Icuhn, for he was old even in
Darsylonian years, and became his hands. They ranged the wildlands,
protecting the life there, making offerings to the Gods and Ancients
of the wild, deep places, and keeping vigil upon the defiling forces
that would threaten our home: the necromancers from the Galadonian
guild, the undead shambling down the slopes of Calandaryl, the
minotaurs hailing upon slave ships from the Sea of Despair... all
affronts to the Goddess, the Mother of our natural world.

Icuhn grew old and passed on, his spirit entering the Dream for
another long turn of the Cycle, he said. Mother took his place:
the years and Icuhn's example had given her a new vocation, a new
place to set down roots, to protect. We both knew it was my time
to go. The squash we hadn't eaten were drying, hanging from the
doorjamb, three-quarters of the summer wheat had been ground and
sealed in jars, and we had eaten the last of the tomatoes,
wrinkled and sour-sweet at this dark-golden Autumn day. I took my
Scythe, a pouch of waybread baked with vegetables I had planted
from seed and harvested. Mother kissed my scythe's wooden blade
and murmured one last blessing of battle upon it, and kissed my
forehead as I left.

It was my time to hunt, just as she did all those years ago. I
can still hear her whispers in my ear... just like when we were
stargazing all those years ago: Whether we see each other in this
life or among the Stars, the Goddess holds us both close. This
I know.