Role

Chapter 4

Dahliana spent the next days, listening to her grandmother tell her of the
past. Stories of training, and teachers. Stories of battles and duels.
Stories of her heritage.

After many days, Grandmother told Dahliana to gather provisions for her
journey. The fresh graves rested near the homes, as Dahliana walked away, not
looking back.

Finding her way out into the world was jaring. Her simple life was gone. She
walked swords strapped to her hips. The armor weighing heavily on her
shoulders. Grandmother had taught her what she could of the forms, but the
only way to truly master them was through practice.

Showing her the way, grandmother took her down a great road, into a ruined
city. Walking her through the streets, she stopped at a smithy. A large man
looked up from his work and smiled at grandmother, nodding.

"Girl, this is Tahren, Listen to him, he can help you, but I cannot stay any
longer. This is not my place, I've given you what I can, the rest, is up to
you."

"I've got her" came the rumble from Tahren, without looking up from his anvil.

With that, grandmothers wispy form dispersed, and Dahliana turned towards
Tahren.

"Right Girl, you can sleep over there, or up in the woods cross the road a
ways, which ever makes you feel more at home. You come here, I'll teach you
what I can, I'll help keep your swords sharp. And then you can get on to the
duty given."

And so, began the story of Dahliana Maeg'Lilthor. Seeker of the Blade,
destoryer of magic. Daughter of the Village.