Iramath Avynnduil the Far-Sighted Knight, Captain of the Brigade

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Chapter 1

When I became the Captain of the Skyborn's Brigade I was entrusted with a great
gift: a spear forged by His own hand. It was lost in battle, as so many things
are, and I even though there is nothing I can do about it, I feel as though I have
somehow failed in the trust He has placed in me. So, henceforth, until the divine
spear is replaced (which I know may never happen), I will bear no other imitation
into battle, for it would be a dishonor to the gift given to me.

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Chapter 2

I spoke with an old man as I fished along the banks of Voralia's Tears. Though
centuries separate me as his senior, there is something to be said for the
physical state of one's body, and the realization of impending death. It imparts
a kind of wisdom about things that is often elusive to my people, for we tend
to live in great health even until death is knocking on our door. I could see
that this man had great skill with a fisherman's pole, and though his arthritic
joints must have burned with the effort, he cast his line far across the river,
hitting his mark with pinpoint accuracy. I was intrigued by this man, and made
myself known to him. Shock and suprise were in his eyes at first, but was replaced
swiftly and much to my suprise by recognition. He knew me.

We spoke for a while about fishing, his grandchildren, and the newly restored
Voralian City. The conversation went on pleasantly for quite a while before anything
was said about how he knew me. He said that I had trained him as a Squire in the
Brigade years before. It dawned on me that this old man was Arnael Tamlock, a
retired Maran who had set out on a pilgrimage to the east long ago. We spent the
the better part of the afternoon talking about his travels, and exchanging war
stories, as veterans often do. I came to learn that his children and grandchildren
had prospered in the new city, and that the name of Tamlock was become reknowned
for producing some of the finest Voralian Knights and Peacekeepers. It dawned on me
that the Maran were, in fact, making a noticable difference. From the ashes of the
Ruined City arose a new, shining beacon of hope. Final victory was being won slowly
but surely. The key to it is in securing the legacy of the good people, like the
Tamlocks, whose proliferating numbers would become the guardians of the next
generation.

The key is to "never give up." The people of the Ruined City never gave up, and now
are reaping the rewards of a new golden age. Arnael never gave up, and now he can
die in peace when his time comes, content in the knowledge that his beliefs...his
own noble virtue will carry on. The lesson of the Macalla that I had learned some
years ago, how to press on even in the hardest of times, can be seen there, embodied
by a humble old man fishing on the banks of a river.

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Chapter 3

When I look back on what my life may have been like, living a life of
aristocracy and theory in the halls of Darsylon, I realize how grateful
I am for the rough, unpredictable path of the would-be Maran that I now
walk. Over the years I have become a warrior that, I can say with no
sense of pride, I would have admired when I was younger. I owe my freedom,
my talent, and my peace of mind to the Skyborn, for it was He that called
me to arms and set me on the path of victory.

Despite all of that, I long for two things in life: a reunification with
my estranged House, and a return to the beautiful isle from whence my
destiny was shaped. There will be plenty of time for Falistad and the
Arath'myrr when I am too old or brittle to fight, but I feel a more pressing
need to mend the wounds of my family that were, all things considered, my
fault. I know in my heart that Shokai would not have guided me away from
them without the intention of bringing me back. I believe it was in His
design that I join the Holy Brigade, and in so doing become something greater
than anyone in my House had achieved for eons. Perhaps I can clear away the
stagnant air that lingers among my people and bring them back out of obscurity.

I am not the only Avynnduil who has the strength to bear arms for the Lord.

Role

Chapter 4

I left Darsylon, my family, and my noble House behind nearly
fifty years ago. I was eager to be gone, even though many tears
fell in my wake. Humans are not the only ones who feel the almost
insatiable pull of the unknown; adventure, danger, glory. It is
just that they are invariably more outspoken than we elves. It
must have something to do with their short, mayfly lives, in which
they only have a pittance of time to leave their mark upon the
world. However, I will admit that most of my kind have lost the
desire to go beyond the boundaries of our ancient homesteads, for
they are secure in the belief that they live in something close to
paradise. I did not understand that when I left, for I had not seen
enough to make a comparison. My wanderings took me far to the east,
through forsaken lands and beyond, to places unknown to most. But
the land of the rising sun captivated me only for a small time, and
it was not long before I ached to leave the impoverished, corrupt
denizens of that place behind.

I found myself visiting nameless isles far beyond the maps of the
south seas, and there I found forgotten tribes of the Arath'myrr, those
called storm giants by men. Though we did not speak the same tongue,
I learned the depths and truest meanings of honor and valor just by
being in their presence. And so I dwelled upon the Isle of Falistad,
as I had come to know it, and lived in a way that would seem primitive
to my people. The burden of strict adherance to the ways of Darsylon
was shrugged off over time, if only partly, and I learned to be humble.
I took great pleasure in good drink, good friends, and hard work under
the sun as my new brothers and I harvested the seas and fields. It was
something of a laughing matter to the Arath'myrr that I could only keep
my head below water for a short time, and that I could lift little more
than half of what they could. But I bring elvish cheer to any occassion,
with my finely-tuned whistling and singing, and so came to be known as
Mibun'Cas, or "the whistling minnow," roughly translated.

The giants revealed to me their faith, their God, Shokai, to whom
almost their entire race, even the ones who dwell in the great coral
cities, are loyal to. I came to see that on the other side of these
people's endearing, sincere nature was an unyielding and indomitable
dedication to all that is right and good in the world. Every one of
them, down to the last man, woman, and child would fight and die for
their God. I found that their strength was far greater than the might
of their bodies, and I was enthralled yet again. One might say that I
took to the teachings of the Maran like a fish takes to water, and it
was not long after I found my faith that I felt the Calling. It is a
phenomenon that many of the Arath'myrr experience at some point in
their lives, and it is the same in every instance; a dream of a great
fortress in the midst of snow-covered mountains followed by the cry
of a phoenix. When one who has dedicated himself to the Silver Lord
has been Called, they will know no peace until they have answered it.

And so my long sojourn into the Isle of Falistad was ended, and I
regretfully bid my new family farewell with a promise that I would,
someday, return. Perhaps my seemingly haphazard leap-frogging around
the world was pa

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