Ild Benchman the Honorary Warrior-Poet of the Troupe, Kingpin of Galadon

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Role

Chapter 7

Golden Eagle, an Ode to Tanzer

Golden Eagle look down,
Cast your powerful gaze,
Toward the ones you have left,
With whom you shared your days.

Many times you've sought solace
Or someone to burn,
On your wings high above,
Then you'd always return.

But something's changed since,
Last you took to the air,
For this time you travel,
Where no mortals dare.

Will we be in your thoughts,
Once you've traveled so far?
Bittersweet, this ascension,
Could it change who you are?

As your soar toward the heavens,
Where the Immortals roam,
The Azure skies beckon,
And welcome you home.

Though great seems our loss
This is no time to mourn,
Our joy is your freedom,
Golden Eagle reborn.

-Ild

Role

Chapter 6

Death of a Village

I'll not tell my name,
This tale's not about me,
It's about where I am,
And what there I see.

Years I had planned,
This journey to take,
Slowly saving the cost,
From what little I make.

This place and it's past,
Sparked my passion to teach,
What I've taught so many,
Is now within reach.

Where I stand long ago,
A great battle did rage,
The last of a war,
Spanning many an age.

Ruins littered with bone,
Battlescene in the wood,
War's vile gifts now strewn,
Where a village once stood.

A pit at my feet,
Broken skulls in a mound,
The throne that was here,
Nowhere to be found.

Tablet gifted by gods,
Gave commandments divine,
Now pieces throughout,
Scant remains of a shrine.

No more was the hut,
In which they planned war,
No table nor maps,
Black and buckled the floor.

My heart skips a beat,
As I saw what I neared,
What's left of a pillar,
Homage to their revered.

The names of a few,
Were carved in the stone,
High honor reserved,
For their legends alone.

Many objects I find,
As I wander around,
Artifacts I pick up,
I find hard to put down.

Just the spine from a book,
Cloven helm with a spike,
Shattered blades by a forge,
Broken cups and the like.

A rusty iron couldron,
With faint burned tea smell,
I'll bet that this cooked,
When the southern wall fell!

The crash woke them all,
Straight to battle from bed,
Absent warning they knew,
Their scouts were all dead.

Every magi alive,
And a few who were not,
Had come for the Ragers,
To slay the whole lot.

They brought with them all,
From hell they could tame,
Devils led the attack,
Then in magi came.

I hope what I've told,
Hasn't left you misled,
Lest you think the losers,
Were victors instead!

Warrior-poets they faced,
Wielding weapons for quill,
Punctuation marks with,
Parchment mages they'd fill.

Ragers vanquished the hoard,
and sealed the veil too,
Won't say how they did,
So that none can undo.

The village war razed,
Was the one war had built,
They left it as such,
Oaths fulfilled without guilt.

People now free to speak,
Fear had muted for ages,
Seems the only ones not,
Hating magic were mages.

Some heroes who's deeds,
Swayed the battle so much,
Have bearing their names,
Public buildings and such.

Bones of magi now warn,
Death was all magic served,
Truth lies here in ruins,
For a new age preserved.

I could tell you more,
But the sun's going down,
I'll bring you some books,
Next time I'm around.

Before it gets dark,
To the inn I must go,
It's in Sekopeville,
Just off Torzen row.

A last look to remind,
What occured where I stand,
Rager's gift to all Thera,
Now known as Ildland!

-Ild

Role

Chapter 5

(Water damage on the original copy has rendered
some of the text unintelligible)

The solace she sought,
Out of reach in the end,
What her foes could not do,
Was done by a friend.

The rage of war,
And lust for gold,
Betrayed the lie,
That she was told.

The Provost had sworn,
As he knew of her child,
He would harm them not,
Then her trust he defiled.

Retribution he sought,
For the Drillmaster's war,
He came for her blood,
And the trinkets she wore.

Bound by solemn oath,
She defended the throne,
While claws ripped her flesh,
And his art cracked her bone.

..........the unborn,
.................,
That she'd never see.
...................

...................
...................
What she could not protect.
She did not deserve.

Ild

Role

Chapter 4

The following is an autobiographical poem in the third person by Ild about a life altering
event and how it has affected her.

The Smallest of Saviors

The battle was lost,
prostrate she lay,
To strong were the foes,
She faced on that day.

The last thing she heard,
As the men gathered 'round,
Was the tearing of clothes,
As she felt herself bound.

Such horrors of war,
Cruel memories make,
She must lock them away,
And forget for her sake.

Now battles she'll seek,
To bury the past,
For each new one dims,
Memories of the last.

But the merciful heart,
With which she was blessed,
Lay dying from wounds,
That cannot be dressed.

Alone she would ponder,
Thoughts too dark to write,
Drawn towards the abyss,
And too weak to fight.

But blackest the night,
Just before the dawn breaks,
Then sun paints the sky,
With the day as it wakes.

What could never be fixed,
Has new hope for repair,
Her strength found within,
The child she doth bear.

Lest you find her salvation,
A curse to begrudge,
Try to be the one drowning,
Then you can be judge.

For this child as much love,
As her hate for it's sire,
She'll pay any price,
It's protection require.

Places she can retreat,
Near them she will stay,
She must hunt close to home,
And forgo distant prey.

She'll conceal all she can,
From her brothers in war,
Knowing when they find out,
She'll be welcome no more.

As such she now lives,
While protecting her own,
What tomorrow may bring,
Cannot yet be known.

-Ild

Role

Chapter 3

Ild wrote '"Twelve Eyes" after a significant battle that thwarted
an imperial ambush in her honor. Not from pride, which she did feel,
but because the ordeal gave her insight and a degree of hope with
her strugle to resolve the inner conflict between her duty to the
Village, her merciful nature, and her lust for prose.


Twelve Eyes, A poem

This tale is the truth,
To each person and deed,
With souls death was fed,
With whose? You must read!

Drums of war rended thought,
As I put pen to scroll
Weary as days of scribing,
Had taken their toll.

Grim news came from a scout,
Plane-mage, devil, and sprite,
Smoke-mephit, ifrit,
And a feral black-knight!

Who sees all in my heart,
Atone for this I must do,
Mercy's gift to the many,
With the fall of vile few.

Quill and scroll in my hand,
Tools for prose to dispense,
Swapped for knife to touch hearts,
In the literal sense.

Who'll fight at my side?
Toward the ruins I flew,
None can, poet-rogue,
Battle's fate lies in you.

While they sat in their web,
Many battles I'd see,
In my mind as I sought
One which brought victory.

If to dance is their wish,
It'd be rude to refuse,
But the step I will lead,
To the music I choose.

Weaving thoughts into words,
Whilst no glorious trade,
Can forge true inspiration,
Of which great deeds are made.

Thus, disturb at your peril,
This craft I hold dear,
What creates, will destroy.
Transformation is here.

Through the forest then north,
First I flank, then attack,
My blade finds it's home,
Deep within the knight's back.

Twelve eyes I see burned,
Seared by day's last light,
Sun's a powerful weapon,
When you're wielding it right.

My reveal stoked their rage,
And they charged with a roar,
Lightning, flame, Devil's curses,
Blasts of vapor, and more!

With all the dust settled,
Clear the fate of the knight,
Trails of blood reached the temple,
But the healer, not quite.

With his captor's end near,
Devil darkened his mood,
With a spell, the mage left,
To become his pet's food.

That's the end of my tale,
And you'll not hear me claim,
It was worth your time reading,
For that wasn't my aim.

It's an ode to my Grandpa,
His words aged like wine,
"To destroy a thing, easy,
To create is divine."

-Ild

Role

Chapter 2

Ild came back every day after that. She and Grandpa would talk, play games,
but more importantly, he would listen to a confused little girl who was full
of doubt and guilt. Grandpa would listen and listen and only after Ild was
out of words, would he offer her his perspective on things. He assured her
that the strife at home was not her fault or even the fault of her parents.
It was the professions they chose.

"The magic will turn anyone's heart black, my dear. No one is immune to it's
charms. It lures you in with promises of power, respect, wealth, whatever
your heart may desire. Then, once it's in you, it will pursue it's own
desires. Your parents, whomever they once were, are gone. What you see are
mere puppets." He sighed. It was clearly difficult for him to lay such
powerful truths at the feet of a young girl. But she needed to hear them,
lest she think that she came from monsters.

They spent the rest of the evening smashing lightning bugs that flew within
their reach. "Die magic!" she would yell as another bug was smeared on the
dirty bench. Then they both watched as the phosphorescent glow faded to
darkness.

She would often bring dinner for the two of them. She was very good at
wandering through the market and emerging with a bounty worthy of the prince
himself, without spending a single copper of course. In return, he would tell
her jokes and teach her slight of hand tricks. He didn't mind her thievery
and even encouraged her to refine her skills amongst those who practiced it
as an art. No the Hamsah guild, though! Go to Galadon, he told her, there
they steal for the art of it, not for the Emperor.

As the years passed, Grandpa's health began to fail. His every bruise or cut
took longer and longer to heal. Ild would dress his wounds and make him
herbal tea to sooth the pain. He suffered just about every ailment there was
and Ild was there to mend and care for him. It gave her purpose and made her
feel needed. Soon, she was tending to street urchins, prostitutes, beggars
and the like, which she continued after his death.

Now a young adult and member of the Galadon thieves guild, she has a soft
spot for the down-trodden while she blames most ills of the world on those
who have succumbed to the lure of magic. Even for those, however, she feels
pity, but knows only one cure for their affliction. A quick and hopefully
painless release from their slavery. She hopes that some may be turned back
from magic before it corrupts them. She does not see her actions as good or
evil, but merely does what fulfills her sense of purpose. She has no problem
with order, in fact her profesion would be more difficult without it. The
rules simply don't apply to everyone, including herself. Her playful and
joking nature was a gift from her Grandpa and is a comfortable persona that
makes her feel like he is with her. She dropped her family name long ago,
choosing a new one to honor her Grampa.

Role

Chapter 1

Ild's grandfather was no warrior. He knew no spells, communed no powers from
the gods. He walked with a limp and always held his cane in his left hand
because the years had clenched his right into a useless ball. His eyesight
was adequate for him to navigate his sparse hovel and to find his bench that
sat in the sun just by his door. But, despite his numerous ailments and
limited abilities, he did something no one else could or would. He saved
Ild's life.

Ild's parents were self-centered assholes. Everything they did was a
calculated move to help them navigate whatever hurdles kept them from their
next very much deserved seat of political power. Their marriage, their
friends, the birth of their child, all part of the strategy without a thought
to the consequences reaped by those who had the misfortune of crossing paths
with this pair. Worse still, was the competition between two. Her father was
a powerful mage who, while well connected, lacked the finesse and people
skills found in most politicians. Her human mother, could not touch the
magical skills of her father, but could charm the fur off of a felar. Both,
headstrong and full of ambition... Wait. I'm already tired of these two. They
obviously had no time for Ild, and I have no more time for them. Bastards,
the both of them.

Neglected and blamed for just about everything that didn't go right in her
parent's life, Ild spent most of her time wandering the outskirts of Hamsah
looking for peace..and a friend. It was one of those days that she came
across an old man sitting on a bench. He starred into the sunset with a broad
smile on his face. Intrigued, Ild came closer.

"What's wrong with you, old man?"

"Not a thing, my dear! Come closer and let me see what's wrong with you!"

Ild's heart sank, but she obliged. She knew the laundry list of things that
were wrong with her. She was nosy, she didn't do as she was told, she was a
curse to her parents, she made messes...

The old man took her head between his good hand and his clenched one and
looked into her eyes for a good while, then let her go, "There's nothing
wrong with you at all! What a lucky pair we are!"

Ild smiled, "I'm Ild. What's your name?"

"You can call me grandpa. I've been saving you a spot" he cackled as he
rapped his clenched fist on the bench.

"OK!"

Instant friendship.

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