Galehlas the Weaver of the Elements

Role

Chapter 5

disease still taking its toll, the elf surveyed his surroundings. There
was a stillness about the area that words could not describe. His life
quickly fleeting from disease and distressing wounds, he found himself
finally at peace. The wicked had been judged and there was a sense of
righteous victory that put Galehlas at peace.

Closing his eyes, Galehlas peers down at the ground beneath him. His pulse
now slowing, the elf believes the path ahead of him is true. "I am capable
of serving the Light," he uttered, barely believing the words as they
escaped his lips. Galehlas looked to the southeast, as if the misty jungle
were but an arms length away. "Keep pure my actions, for I must not act
as they," he humbly prayed as he put one foot in front of the other.

Role

Chapter 4

A light haze of smoke billowed through the Inn. It filled the sense of
smell, almost to the point that Galehlas could taste the pipeweed roll
off of his own tongue. Dim candles cast playful shadows along the walls,
providing dark corners for private conversations, gambling and dealings
not otherwise spoken aloud.

As he opens his eyes, Galehlas can feel his heart begin to race as he
allows his memory to continue overtaking his present thoughts.

The door of the Inn slammed open with a rush of air that commanded the
attention of the patrons and stole the flames from the candles.
"Intruder!" sounded the subconscious cry of the Maran. "Imperials at
the gate!" Galehlas quickly stood, simultaneously flipping a small
change purse to Olin as payment for the ale and venison he had recently
indulged in. A light bluish-white hue overtook his hands as he ran towards
Voralia, the predetermined rally point with his newly found friend, Toktok.
Shields of elemental warding began to paint around his form, instilling
in him confidence in his trade.

"I stand ready," is all Galehlas could muster as he panted from the short
sprint. "There must be no rest for the wicked. And these are truly the acts
of the wicked," he continued as he caught his breath.
"We move," Toktok replied in a stoic voice, clearly knowing what the Light
faced.

Light snow speckled the entrance to the Redhorn gate but Galehlas was
incapable of taking in the beauty of the brilliant peaks at this time. The
wicked were to be purified this day. With a nearly inaudible hum, the ground
cracked and shifted into a large mass of quicksand. Looking up to Toktok
Galehlas assured him, "They will be judged here."

But the dark Emperor, Kraldinor, aside his War Master, Jeberal, had plans
of their own. Rushing to extend the will of the Empire, Kraldinor communed
with the Gods and cursed the elf with a strong supplication. Galehlas could
feel his very life wasting away. "Spearmaiden, deliver me from fear, for I
cannot refuse to act!" exclaimed the elf, certain of his cause. Brilliant
shards of pure ice enveloped the dreadful giant, leaving grievous wounds and
providing an opening for Toktok to close the distance and engage in
close-quarters combat. More shards of ice left the giant nearly frozen
as the duergar, Jeberal, began his series. Slashing quickly and violently
Galehlas quickly understood the title "War Master". As if from a flash
of radiant light a tiger pounced on the giant, purifying his body with
a ferocious bite. The duergar, now alone, attempted to retreat but the
weight of his sins proved too heavy as he sank deeper into the quicksand.
Toktok looked to the heavens and stared down the War Master with a righteous
determination on his face. The wrath of the heavens smited the duergar. And
then their was silence.

Wounds of an expert swordsman scored the entirety of the elf. The rotting

Role

Chapter 3

A warm, brilliant sun soaked the vast plains while a cool breeze rushed
off of the northern mountains. Songbirds chirped playful tunes adding
to the surreal beauty of the moment. Galehlas surveyed the scene around
himself while taking a deep breath. Slowly kneeling to the ground he
looks to the heavens.

"Mother, Father, here my words from a distance - I am well but the
the lands are not. I feel that I am somehow connected to the goodly
beings that walk Thera and their voice is feint. The Empire grows
and hate swells from the barbaric huts south of the great road.
My episodes have not ceased, I need guidance."

As the last breaths of his plea escaped his lips he looked to the north
where a brilliant flash shot from the highest peak of the Udgaardian
mountains. It was gone before even the keen-eyed elf could make heads
or tails of the shape. As his eyes went back to the ground before him
he noticed a small letter, marked with the insignia of his family, at
his feet.

Galehlas,
I write to you this missive so that you will know more of your heritage
and, perhaps, more of your own heart. Your mother and I have lived
centuries before you were conceived, this much you know. What you do
not know, however, is why you do not feel comfortable with your role
in our society.

Years ago, in ages past, I did not live within the canopied sancuary of
Darsylon. I was not worried of politics within our own walls nor
foreign affairs. I was, however, worried that I wouldn't ever again feel
the rush of victorious adrenaline that culminated as I drew my sword
from the chest cavity of an orc. I was worried that I would never stalk
a band of goblins knowing that soon I would stand righteously triumphant
over a lifeless heap of the wicked. You see, son. Your mother and I act
in our current station because of our experience and knowledge. Not
because of a lack of will and determination. Your mother's desire to
keep you here and teach you as opposed to you learning on your own
is nothing more than just that. A mother's compassion to keep safe
her first and only son. But you are my son as well and I know the spirit
within you. Go to the Spearmaiden and be guided.

Looking back up to the heavens, Galehlas uttered a final prayer as he
tucked the letter into his robe:
Spearmaiden, Deliver me from fear, for I cannot refuse to act.
Keep pure my actions, for I must not act as they.

Role

Chapter 2

The faint sound of steel horseshoes approaching from a newly formed brick
road can be heard in the distance, alarming the humble citizens that
their tyrant oppressors are nearing for their too-often inspection.
"They were here yesterday, we've no more coins to give!", says one
raggedly clothed field worker. Another scurries off to the woodline
knowing that his recent lack of 'contributions' will result in severe
punishment by the sheriffs. "So once the hummingbird stops and the final
sun sets, this is what remains", says another man.

Galehlas shifts in his sleep, a feverish temperate slowly takes and begins
to create small beads of sweat about his body. A feeling that has become
considerably normal as of late. In his barely conscious state, he closes
his eyes more firmly, attempting to regain concentration.

The pounding of a gavel pounding on a grand mahogony court-bench rings
throughout an elaborately decorated courtroom. The pungeant smell of
ungroomed minotaur bodyguards radiates the room. Presiding over the
room at the bench sits an alabaster skinned elf, grinning at the
situation at hand. "Two counts of tax evasion, seventeen counts of
praising the false Gods, How do you plead?" says the judge, half
knowing the response, wholy reveling in the judgement that has already
been made. "This cannot be tolerated!" exclaims the already badly
beaten, blue skinned giant. "A resistance will rise, this tyanny
must...!" The statement is stopped with the cracking of a snake-headed
whip across the giants tongue. The judge turns to the executioner
and sneers, "You act too slowly, fool! But perhaps we have learned
something. Send missive to the Emperor, a resistance may be forming."

Now visibly soaked in fear-induced sweat, Galehlas continues to toss
and turn.

Temple bells can be heard throughout the land, bringing the devout to
to prayer. Dark robed figures line up to the temples of the Dark Gods.
Not a temple to the Light still resides in the lands yet masses have
never been more attended. A passerby whispers to another, "All this
because of our fear. How can we stand up to this corruption? Who
can be the voice of reason that will rally us?"

A thin, silk cover drops to the floor, startling the already sense
heightened elf to consciousness. Looking up to the heavens he prays:
Deliver me from fear, for we cannot refuse to act.
Keep pure my actions, for we must not act as they.

Role

Chapter 1

Since Galehlas was born, his affinity for magic was strong, like many
of his kin. Born into a family of aristocrats in Darsylon he was sent
off to study with other, similarly gifted elves. It was not until he
received a missive from his mother that he felt he understood where his
future lie. The missive stated a vastly unexpected theory. She discussed
the responsibility of his bloodline: The overseeing of politics within
Darsylon, the aiding of less-to-do families and races, and most
importantly, the continued surveillance of the war on evil in the land.
His night terrors began shortly before receiving this letter. They were
only made more vivid in the days after receipt.

He knew that the greater cause of his potential, his people, and the
light would not allow him to act as a passerby, an audience member.
Too many have already strayed from the light, too much darkness has
grown too strong. It must be stopped, but he could not do so under
the pretenses that his role in life had already been set.

Despite his parents wishes and against the guidance of the master mage,
he disenrolled himself from the invocation guild of Darsylon and set out
for Voralia, where he could more closely understand his lifes journey
without the protection and blanket of security that was Darsylon.

His assumptions were unfortunately too accurate.

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