Aesur the Shield of the Innocent

Role

Chapter 6

A deathly silence hangs over the crowded marketplace of Darsylon, its people
gathered in throngs along the sides of the streets as guards are spaced along
the path leading into the wooded Vale to the south, well oiled pikes held at
the ready. The gates of the Palace swing quietly open an single solitary figure
emerges, clad only in rough homespun wool sitting astride an ungainly donkey as
plods slowly along the quiet streets. His head held high, the young elven man
gazes fiercely about himself, his eyes trying to catch those of the people about
him, his people. Their eyes lowered, some even going so far as to turn and show
him their backs, each refuses to acknowledge even his mere prescence, this one
who was once a noble son, this outcast.

His whole life he had sought to knowledge, of himself and the worlf which
surrounded him with its spledour and beauty. A curious child, he was often to
be found stripped to the skin, swimming with the flashing koi located within the
royal gardens of Darsylon, much to the consternation of his parents and nurses.
His keen eye had picked out many an ancient scroll from the vast libraries
located deep within the Palace, hours on end spent with the tottering old elf
charged with keeping them safe, discussing the finer points of philosophy and
theology. He knew no other life, no other people than his own, the proud and
noble High Elves, and for a time, he was content.

And then came the day, the Royal Court was departing the City and setting sail
for a summer excursion upon the mighty Aryth, having never seen the sea he was
determined that he would be upon one of these ships, he used what he had
learned from his tutors, and his observations within the Court, and politiced
himself into one of the page positions to a high ranking advisor. After a few
days ride, he caught his first glimpse of the raging sea, and his heart was lost
to its massive strength, its restless beauty, never would he be the same.

Several ships set sail from a hidden dock within the Tahril mountains, and he
found himself about the third ship of the flotilla, serving the Advisor in all
things. As the sun set upon the third day, dark clouds roiled up from the
south, tossing the waves into gargantuan monsters of froth and rage. As night
fell upon the storm tossed ships, dark shadows could be seen gliding beneath
the prows of each of the ships, the faint red glow of malice shining in the many
pairs of eyes peering out of the Depths.

Role

Chapter 5

Harsh cries, and the sound of steel upon steel jerked him from restless sleep,
the smell of fish strong in his nostrils and words barked in some guttural
language with which he was not familiar. Without warning the door to the cabin
burst from its hinges, two massive sahuagin pushing against each other in their
rush to grab him. Only then did he notice the Advisor, standing calmly in a
corner of the Cabin, fully clothed and armored for battle but unmoving, he
seemed to be looking expectantly at the monsters of the Deep. With a rush
the two sahuagin grabbed him, one smashed a massive fist into the side of his
skull, knocking him unconscious.

The next two years of his life he knew only suffering, taken as a slave into
the underwater Palace of the sahuagin, he was worked nearly to his death, and
beaten even closer when his frail body refused to answer his call. His masters
knew nothing of mercy, or compassion, implanting a set of gills into his neck
they lashed his back to make him go, and kicked his legs from under him when it
was time to sleep. Their blazing red eyes haunted his dreams, sleeping fitfully
within a crude cell carved from the coral, he would wake screaming and thrashing
about. Almost did they break him, ever so close to that edge did he come that
he knows not himself, but when times were darkest his mind would wander back
to ancient scrolls, and swimming with the beautifully mailed koi within the
elven Palace.

The bars on his cell swung silently open, and a blue skinned face peeked
silently around the corner. Looking not unlike his own kin, it was his first
of one of his cousins, though he had never read of them within the libraries of
Darsylon, they were a line of elves who had long ago taken to the Sea. Motioning
for him to follow, the sea-elf quietly moved back into the hall, stepping over
the corpses of the dead sahuagin guards. As they entered the street of the
Fief, there were sahuagin corpses everywhere, and several more of the
blue-skinned elves were slipping from the various doors an alleys within his
sight. Silently they moved south, into the open waters of the mighty Aryth, and
at last, his freedom. They told a tale which set his blood afire, a tale of
betrayal, of his kinsman being sold into slavery by their own kind.

He wiped the blood from his sword upon the snowy white robes of the elven
Advisor he had once served, now laying dead at his feet. The shocked eyes of
the Royal Court all upon him, even as the Palace Guard moved to restrain him,
binding his arms behind him. His tale was not believed, with only the word of
his cousins as proof, cousins which most of the High Elves refused to admit even
existed, it was instead believed that he had been somehow enspelled, and come
from his masters to slay a High Elf. For whatever reason, there was but one
punishment for such a crime, Exile.

Role

Chapter 4

Leaving behind his homeland, shamed in the face of his people, stripped of
title and name, no more would he be Aesuranil ar'Asranilathos, simply Aesur
Asranil, the Kinslayer as he was mocked on his ride out of the city. His path
led first into the city of Galadon, a seething cesspool of corruption and
darkness, where his first night his only possession the portly donkey he had
ridden from Darsylon was stolen. Penniless, starving and clad only in the rags
that his simple homespun had become from the road, he was alone in the world.
But as he suffered, he observed, ever thirsting to know himself and the world
about him, he learned quickly to survive on his wits, and by the grace of the
Light in time he would come to gain Knowledge, and Strength.

His first glimpse of the paladins guildhall brought him to a standstill, the
throngs of the city parting about him as he stared at this towering edifice,
stern and austere in its simplicity, it was nonetheless a thing of Beauty.
For days he would come to a nearby alley, watching the comings and goings of men
clad in burnished armor, weapons strapped confidently about their bodies, men
who seemed to know themselves, their path, and he came to long for this for
himself. Nearly a month passed as he sat, longing to speak to the guards upon
doors of this hall, his pride not allowing him to do so clad as a beggar, filth
upon his clothes which reeked of the gutter. In time it was taken from his hands
perhaps by the gods themselves, who can know, but he had just dozed into a nap
in the midday heat whenhe felt rough hands grasp him by the arms, dragging him
from the alley.

He pulled the thick cloak tighter about his shoulders, ducking his head into the
stiff wind that blew down from the mountains, carrying with it the frigid cold
of the Wastes. His initial training within the guildhall had been completed, he
had learn the use of weapons, and to use his shield as an extension of his
swordman, in both defense and offense. But he longed for something more, that
thing which always seemed just out of reach, as though it were right before his
eyes and if he tried just hard enough he might grasp it. The guilmaster had
had spoken to him at length, questioning his philosophy, and his goals within
within the lands, and to this simple Hut, high in the Frigid Wastes had he been
directed to come, here it was that he was to meet the Lady Yean, the Sublime
Lady, and begin his life.

Role

Chapter 3

Many times the elf could be seen trudging slowly through the thigh deep snow,
high into the Wastes, a determined glint in his eyes and confidence in his
step. Once within the Hut of the Sublime, he could be found spending time in
prayer, or sitting in a corner softly strumming a much battered lyre. A gleaming
shaft of moonlight streamed softly in through the window, slowly coalescing
into the form of Lady Yean. Her prescence was commanding, though not what one
might consider classically beautiful, there can be no doubt of her Beauty,
the Strength in her voice, the Knowledge in her eyes demands respect from
the elven man. For some time they speak, a slightly acknowledging demeanor in
the Ladies manner, a humble respect in every word from the elven man. After some
time the young man rises, glowing softly with holy power, as if bathed in the
faintest of moonlight.

For months he has scoured the lands of Thera, searching out every rumor, every
scrap of information upon the history of the elven peoples. Most have been
false leads, poorly remembered names of ancient sages, scrolls of lore long
turned to dust in the catacombs beneath some religious abbey. From what he
had gathered, he can only deduce that his people do not want their histories
widely known, for the little he has been able to uncover has been only
vagaries of elven involvement in some long forgotten battle, or some conspiracy
plot believed to be tied to the elven peoples. Frustrated but not deterred
he has devoted himself to this search, pressing on he has determined to seek
out those still living who might be considered scholars, perhaps some direction
might be gleaned from them.

Sitting quietly upon a a jagged outcropping of white granite, the crashing surf
blowing a fine mist of salt spray across his cheeks, an elven man glances
down longingly into the roiling waters below him. Half emerged from the water
is one of the loveliest women you have ever seen, her facial features and
willowy frame proving her elven blood, though her oddly blue-tinted skin
is unlike any elf you have ever seen, as are the swirling tribal tattoos that
covers nearly every inch of her exposed skin, including her bare breasts. In
her delicate hands she holds an ocarina, formed of some pearlescent shell
it gleams faintly as she raises it to her full lips, a haunting melody drifting
soothing over the nearby seascape. Held lightly in the mans hands is an
old battered lyre, and it is obvious that he is trying to follow her notes,
though you catch a few glaring missteps in his playing.

Role

Chapter 2

For weeks he has pored over the scrolls within the celestial Lyceum, searching
for any knowledge of the history of the elven races. Mentioned in many writings
throughout history, but none that give anything sort of an accounting of the
elven people themself. A thin wafer of bread and a canteen of water sit at his
hardly touched as his keen eyes pore over yet another scroll written aeons
before his birth. And yet another dead end, giving a slight interpretation of
the elven tongue, and no more than that. He sits back in the simply chair,
running hand wearily over his eyes as he pulls another scroll from the massive
stack before him.

He stands within a massive Libary, thousands of books line the shelves about
him, as far as his eye can see. A matronly older woman stands in front of him,
her gray hair in a severe bun, the myriad of wrinkles in her face belying her
great age. She brings him books on Wars, which the elven people were involved
in, books on conjuration and spells discovered by elven mages of that guild,
every scrap of knowledge pertaining to elven kind has passed before his eyes
it seems, all but any knowledge of the race and its creation. He longs to
know if once his people were one people, and if so how did it come to pass
that they have split, into the five races which now inhabit Thera, but it
seems that this knowledge eludes his best efforts.

Thin mists float slowly through the thick air of the ruins that surround him,
the grumbling roars of some predatory cats can be heard, though he sees nothing
of them in the jungle. He has come at last to this ancient Ruin, seeking the
wisdom and lore of the Lady Baerinika, a goddess who walked amongst mortal kind
in ancient times. His prayers are heard and the Spearmaiden stands before him,
austere in her authority yet offering what insight she might, she claims to
be no historian herself but asks a key question, one which perhaps he has
been avoiding since it involves much that will pain him. No, he has not yet
searched the ancient writing in the library of Darsylon, his childhood home,
city of those who name him Kinslayer.

Role

Chapter 1

A young elven man stands before two others, obviously elders of his own race
they bear wisdom and knowledge in their demeanor, he listens attentively as
he hears a tale heard by few, the Origins of the Elven Races.

When the lesser races were introduced to Thera, it posed a problem for the
Elven people, the world had been theirs to nurture and tend for milennia, and
change was not something that came easily to this proud people. They noticed
that these lesser races bore no respect for the land, or the wood, or the Sea,
rapiing the earth of its riches, and multiplying at many times the rate of
the elves themselves. A great conclave was held, all the elven leaders from
across Thera attended, months were spent debating what would be done to deal
with what were called the 'Child Races' by the elves.

After discussions had failed, the elves were broken in three disparate camps,
firstly were those who counseled wisdom and compassion in dealing with these
newcomers, thinking that in time they could be made to see that the elven
way would cause them to flourish, and become more than they currently were.
Secondly were those who counseled all out War, the destruction of these
interlopers into elven lands, to rid the land of them once and for all, every
man, woman and child of them. And lastly were those whose counsel involved
hiding themselves away, allowing the lesser races their populous centers of
civilization, while thriving in the vast wildernessess that were surely beyond
the reach of these unskilled newcomers.

This first group would make its home near to the lesser races, building the
city of Darsylon and offering trade and commerce to the lesser races, they
would come to be known as High Elves, a haughty and superior race of intelligent
people. They would never come to think of the lesser races as their equals, but
believed they could 'manage' them, almost as a mother manages a child.

The second group began to make plans for War, seeking a place were they might go
unnoticed in their machinations, they found themselves in the Underdark,
plotting murder and worse, in time their souls turned to the foulest of evil,
and their skin changed to better conceal them within the confines of their new
home, thus were born what would come to be known as drow, or Dark Elves.

The third group found itself scattered to many of the vast wildernesses
which cover Thera, the great forest of Ar'Altoudain, the loft peaks of
the Jade Mountains, the vast watery expanse of the mighty Aryth, each
evolving to its surroundings over the millennia that passed, and thus were
born the tribes of the Wood, Jade, and Sea Elven peoples.

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