Role

Chapter 18

The Chronicle of Lasentia Silvermoon.
Added Sat Oct 16 16:12:01 2010 at level 51:

The dwarf god began to grumble, as time passed and little was transpiring.
Lasentia was walking behind the orcs, hearing the grumbling of the irate
dwarven god.. An opportune moment. She grinned as she no longer shielded her
companions from her voice. Into sleep they all fell as she sang to them, but
before she could continue the concert they were forcibly woken. She stepped
away, smiling as she heard the sounds of battle. The group had turned on
itself. As inevitably it had to. She smiled as she walked through the sands,
calming the native creatures, listening to the chaos she had wrought upon
them.

The hours drew on, as did the battles. One by one they all fell, until only
two remained. Plias, and Lasentia. When they happened upon one another they
knew this was to be it. No more running. No more hiding. In truth Lasentia
knew the match favored her, but Plias stood his ground and fell with honor
before her blade. As the final strike landed, she glanced to the perch. The
radiance of the Hammersong was still there. And in an instant she found
herself before him.

He was laughing. At her. Of all who entered the desert, it had been Lasentia.
The skaljd, as he put it, the lowly elven skaljd, had bested them all. He
spoke at length with her, helping her to understand what really had just
transpired within her. The teachings of the Hammersong came to her, and she
was thankful. For the teachings. For the insight into herself. But mostly for
the chance to learn about herself. She had been forged into something more
without ever knowing it.

The Hammersong nodded to her one last time, a sign of respect he reserved for
those who had proven themselves before him. And right before he returned to
his forge he turned and winked at her, and she saw it. It was something so
very familiar to her, though it had been ages since she saw it last. From the
dwarf that had saved her almost a millennium ago. She had never known his
name, but for the briefest of moments she thought he might have been the
Hammersong. She smiled, knowing it was far more likely one of his priests.
Setting her on the path. And now, she had proven herself before his patron.

She picked herself up with newfound strength and courage coursing through her
body, smiled as she glanced over the wastes one final time, and set off for
home. There was a story here, one she must write. The last one she ever
would. The tale of Lasentia Silvermoon, Grand Mistress of Artistry, Sapper
trained Desert Marauder. The last of the Crescent Shadows. Hers was the last
tale she needed to tell.