Ilthuryn the Dweller of the Wilds

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Role

Chapter 3

I suppose it would be accurate to say that I was never meant to be an anonymous
Elf within the guild. It is not who I was born to be, nor who I would ever wish
to be. I had a home once, a family, loyal subjects to whom I owed my service and
protection. I failed them all in that duty, but that failure could not be the
end of me and would not make me something that I am not.

Given those undeniable facts, I suppose it is reasonable to anticipate that I
would seek out something greater than myself. Far greater than this guild, which
has sharpened the skills and abilities I developed during my princely recreation
endeavors, and more recently, during that eye-opening trek through the
mountains. Greater even, in some ways, than Verolyn itself.

It was with a sense of serene purpose that I first approached the silvery gates
of the Fortress of Light. In a previous life, isolated in the Palace of Verolyn,
we spoke of this Fortress as a place of myth and legend. Of course there were
several adventurous Elves, righteous priests mostly, that departed Verolyn to
find their way here. But none could ever be sure that this great Fortress truly
existed.

Even I was not entirely certain what would be found until I stood before that
mystical Tara'bal directly. Once there, I could sense the power, the surety and
the unquestionably pure purpose emanating from the divine being. Without further
pause, I knelt for the first time to anyone other than my own father, and
pledged a solemn oath of loyalty.

It was a strange reversal of fortune, as I looked upon another with my knee
bent. Strange, but I knew this was the way. I was a Prince without a Kingdom. An
Elf without a family, without land, without wealth. In many ways, I was no
different than anyone else who might approach this Fortress. Anonymous to those
within, but pure of purpose and intent.

Ultimately, I suppose it no longer matters who I once was. I am no longer known
as Ilthuryn Ar'dan Verylonathas, Crown Prince of Verolyn. I am lesser now, in
the eyes of many, but greater in ways that few understand. I am now known simply
Ilthuryn the Ranger, Squire to the Holy Brigade of the Phoenix.

Role

Chapter 2

Racing back home and hours still from our city, I could see the flames lighting
up the late afternoon sky. The city was ablaze, fires in every corner, every
tree and every home.

I searched in vain, but there were no survivors. It was me, and me alone.

At least I thought I was alone, at first. It was a foolish thought.. not
everyone in Verolyn could be dead. Those that started the blaze likely did not
incinerate themselves. Those that destroyed my Kingdom. It was my duty to see it
protected. And now, it was my duty to see it avenged.

I found tracks leaving the city, and knew what must be done. I tracked them for
three days. They moved quickly, on horseback, but I moved quicker through the
mountains of my home.

Alas, I found their camp and stalked ever closer. I must have proof that these
men were those that I hunted. Those that destroyed my Kingdom. The glint of fine
silver in the moonlight, poking through a saddlebag caught my eye. It was a
candelabra from my father's study, a gift from my mother's father to him on
their wedding day. An unmistakable heirloom, impossible to forge or copy.. I had
found Verolyn's betrayers.

What followed was the simplest of matters- six arrows placed in six skulls.
Unsporting, perhaps. But this was not for sport or for trophy. It was vengeance,
and Verolyn was avenged.

But now, I was petrified by a new thought. What comes next?

I contemplated rebuilding Verolyn, restoring it to its former glory. I could do
it, I was sure, gather survivors and displaced Elves and start anew.. but it
would never be the same. It would never be home. So instead, I suppose I just..
wandered. I lived in the wilderness of the mountains. I picked off thieves and
brigands when I found them, but never remained to accept a thank or a prize. I
trekked onward, as the mountains turned to forests and to plains. One evening,
without intent or conscious decision made, I found myself standing in Darsylon.

I was anonymous, amongst my distant cousins, for the first time in my life. A
common hunter, perhaps a ranger, but certainly not a Prince. Where to go, and
what to do?

The simplest decision is often the best, and I found my way into the Ranger's
guild.

Role

Chapter 1

My name is Ilthuryn Ar'dan Verylonathas. I am, or to be more precise, I once
was, the Crown Prince of House Verolyn, destined to rule over the small but
prosperous kingdom of Verolyn and her loyal subjects. Verolyn was a beautiful
and holy place, tucked into the mountains and full of unimaginable splendors
which were known to none whe were not born of Elven blood, as one might hope of
all Elven kingdoms. One might expect that all Elves show the wisdom to keep
themselves free of the squabbles and plights of the lesser races of Thera.

Of course, not all Elven kingdoms and not all Elves are so wise. In fact many
Elves, who believe themselves forward-thinking and open-minded, lobby for all
Elven kingdoms to open themselves up to outsiders, just as the Kingdom of
Darsylon has done. There are many arguments to be made for such policy, from the
introduction of Elven values to the other races, to the offer of our protection
and to avail our vast resources to those in need. These are all very true, of
course, but doing so puts at risk our very way of life.

Verylon, I am saddened to say, is proof of that fact.

My father, rest his soul, was an ambitious King and sought to follow in the
footsteps of House Darsylon. Thera has seen Darsylon grow vastly wealthy and
powerful in the millenia since they opened their borders to outsiders, to the
extent that many seem to believe Darsylon is the only great Elven city. They
have benefited from the trade, from the visitors and from the notoriety and in
most ways, those benefits have outweighed the occasional raid and attack from
bands of murders, thieves and other such wicked men.

Verolyn would share that success, in my father's mind. And for a very brief
time, we too opened our borders to outsiders.

I will spare you the details of the horrors that followed that decision, but
know that Verolyn survives now only as a pile of ash and bones, and as a memory
in my mind.

As the fates would have it, I happened to be out of Verolyn on a hunt to
celebrate the opening of our borders. Tradition dictated that the largest boar
would be the highlight of the feast. Tradition further dictated that the eldest
son of the King must be the greatest hunter, and capture that prize. It was the
way of things, and I was certainly up for the task.

I tracked my prize and loosed the first arrow just as I noticed a faint smell in
the air. Smoke. My first thought was that the feast had started, that another
had captured the prize. Of course that could not be.. none could track nor hunt
better than I. Then what caused that curious odor?

A truly horrible thought struck me almost immediately, the thought that I had
voiced many times in the previous years, in a vain plea to maintain our security
and the exclusivity of our borders. Outsiders could not always be trusted. And
there were so many now welcomed into Verolyn.

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