Within the forest of the Faydark, near to but out of view of Kelethin, the city of the wood elves, a shadowed glade had been carefully constructed by the citizens of the city, assisted by the friends and family members of the honored party. It had an open setting for easy viewing, yet still within the embrace of the forest around it. This was not uncommon for such a wedding.
A hundred or so people were milling about below, a sizable portion of them FeirDal elves, with a fair deal of Koada'dal as well. Again, this was not so uncommon for this particular type of wedding.
What was so strange about the whole thing was the actual honored party and some their friends. The bride, a wood elven rogue, and the groom, a human monk, were officiating their union today, the ceremony lead by a dwarven priest. One of the bride's maids was, of all things, a dark elf!
Still, as Taliea watched, the ceremony was touching in its simplicity, the union of two loving souls, bringing a small smile to the wood elven warrior's face. As they concluded the proceedings with the "binding" kiss, Taliea even wished, for a moment, that she was down amongst the throng below watching, instead of sitting on a tree several meters over the ceremony, her slender legs dangling below her, swaying in the slight breeze.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, however, her hand went involuntarily to the golden chain around her neck, to the worked-silver pendant that hung over her chest. Her fingers idly traced the achingly familiar curves of the pendant, the symbol of her faith.
Unlike the vast majority of wood elves who chose to follow the nature-goddess, Tunare, or even numerous who chose instead to dedicate themselves to Bristlebane, under Taliea's fingers were a much different, and far more rare symbol: the crossed axe and sword of Rallos Zek, the Warlord.
While many people outside of the Faydark did not so much as bat an eye when they saw the symbol of devotion, almost every wood and high elf around the world had, thus far, noticed the distinction. Sometimes it was ignored as trivial, sometimes it would cool the demeanor and conversation of the other elf she was talking to, but more often than not, she had been outright spurned by the "normal" FeirDal and Koada'Dal.
Those hoping to get into a theological debate with the warrior, however, were usually disappointed. Taliea had so long been numb and indifferent to such reactions that they were easily ignored, water off a duck's back.
She waited a few more minutes until the majority of the gathering below had begun to make their way back to Kelethin for the wedding reception, and then slowly, quietly slipped down the tree branches to the forest floor itself.
-
Within the glade there had been many passing-by adventurers who had stopped their hunts and travels to watch the ceremony. One of these, a freshly minted ranger in service to Faydark's Champions and one of the last to leave, stood admiring the cunning setup of the celebratory clearing. As he glanced about, a small flash of movement caught his eye, and he turned to investigate.
What he saw was a wood elven female recovering from a crouch, having obviously jumped down from one of the branches above the glade. By the look of her armor and two scabbards, the ranger deduced her to be a warrior, but much of her equipment the young man had never seen, nor heard of, before.
She was slender, and a tad bit taller than most FeirDal women, by maybe an inch or two. She wore her lustrous black hair very long, reaching to just below her waist, with two scraps of cloth tying the hair off into a loose tail, one at the tip and the other right behind her head, keeping most of it pulled back from her face and ears, a style not unlike the most popular one amongst the high elves.
Her chest and upper arms were covered in an almost form-fitting sheath of metal, a very dark blue, with a small amount of fluting and marking. Her wrists, though, were covered by what appeared to be cloth bracers, over which were a pair of black gloves, covering her hand and arm almost all the way to her elbows. Both the gloves and bracers had odd patterns inscribed on them, in a silvery color.
She wore a fabulous belt of some sort of tough hide, inscribed upon by countless runes. From the belt hung two plain leather sheathes, but the hilts of her two swords were intricate, well crafted, and beautiful. She wore a pair of black, soft leather pants, the ends of which were fitted inside her black leather boots. Completing her ensemble of equipment was a thin cloak, green on the inside and black on the exterior.
She was pretty, the ranger thought, if not quite as beautiful as the bride of the wedding he had just witnessed. Her face had a delicate set to it, but it was slightly worn by both the elements and experience.
He was about to call out to her in greeting when she turned to regard him with a calm, intent look. Her small lips were a light red color, but no smile touched them now. Above all else to catch his attention, though, were her eyes.
Vivid green eyes peered at him, not in scrutiny, but with something else. The ranger could have sworn he saw the colored iris moving, like water in a stream, with the fires of life burning behind them. At once they took his breath away and chilled his blood.
She appraised him finally with a small smile, and then raised her hand in a small salute. Then, with a swirl of movement from her cloak, she turned and began to jog off into the woods. As she moved, though, the ranger caught the twin flashes of gold and silver from her neck, and he quickly deduced it to be her symbol of faith.
Nodding to himself, he looked at his own symbol tucked into his worn cloth tunic, a silvery pendant of an oak leaf. He smiled, thinking it fitting that the attractive warrior wore her devotion to Tunare openly, and then he finally turned from the glade to join his friends on the hunt, once again.
The monk, his name had ever eluded Taliea, ran by with a frantic look on his face. His cry of, "Here she comes!" echoed through the half marble, half unworked rock hallway she stood in.
She took a deep breath, and then hefted her two enchanted long swords to the ready. Both glowed with a vibrant aura, the one in her right hand, the Blade of Tactics, a fiery red, while the other, the Blade of Strategy, possessed an icy blue.
In front of her, their opponent appeared: a black and purple dragon, with several long, curved and snaking horns atop the pointed head. Furious red eyes glowed at them as Phara Dar, Lady-lord of Veeshan's Peak, plodded her way towards her antagonist, the monk who was now a few feet behind Taliea.
Taliea closed her eyes for the few final moments, concentrating her will on the fighting disciplines she had methodically learned from countless battles and untold experience. She opened her eyes to see the dragon come just within range of her weapons.
With a furious, uncontrolled swing she slashed hard at Phara Dar's front left leg with the Blade of Tactics, tearing deep into the onyx scales there. The attack was accented with a more planned, methodical strike from the Blade of Strategy into one of the dragon's claws, at the joining between talon and flesh where Phara Dar was less protected.
The assault had the desired effect, for the dragon no longer sought out the monk, but now turned her brilliant crimson eyes towards the wood elf. She reared back, roaring loudly, and then brought her claws to bear at Taliea.
The warrior dodged the first set of talons, but the movement had put her nearly in line with the second swipe, the diamond hard and razor-sharp claws digging deep furrows into Taliea's cobalt breastplate, bringing a spurt of pain across the wood elf's shoulder.
Grimacing, she ignored the stinging pain of the three cuts, and began her deadly dance with the dragon's two primary weapons: the slashing talons, and its powerful, snapping jaw. In part due to her training, and in part by her refusal to encumber herself with rigid metal armor except where it would do more good than harm, she weaved, dodged, and parried her way out of many of Phara Dar's attacks. However, due to her evasive efforts, her return strikes were few in number, and glancing attacks at best.
By this time, however, the rest of the assembled adventurers, a band of sixty strong and tested adventurers, had swarmed around the black dragon. People of all races and professions swung swords, stabbed daggers, channeled destructive magic, or called down prayers against the dragon and to aid Taliea, who was still taking several blows, and was now bleeding quite heavily.
Phara Dar had still not used her fabled "breath" weapon, which was actually an incredibly loud roar laced with a heavy magical suppression. By all the rumors, knowledge, and collected tales, Taliea knew that the roar could cause temporary paralysis and leave one vulnerable to a return attack by the dragon.
As if bidden by her thoughts, though, Phara Dar suddenly reared back and took a deep breath. Taliea took advantage of the few seconds of open defenses to slam her swords hard into Phara Dar's exposed chest, breaking away several scales and further weakening the dragon's defenses.
Then the roar issued forth. A wave of sound and a magical compression flooded over the warrior, causing a tingle to surge through her skin. The sound temporarily deafened her, but thanks to the magic of her comrades, the equipment she possessed, and her own innate resistance, the magical stupor did not afflict her.
It did, however, strike down on no less than half of her compatriots. Those affected stared at the dragon in a daze, leaving them defenseless as Phara Dar turned her attention from the warrior for a quick moment to strike at some of the weaker spell casters, who had been harmed tremendously by the magical assault of the roar. Four robed figures were cut down before Taliea's blades dug deeply into the exposed sections of Phara Dar's flesh, which turned the dragon's attention back to the wood elf.
Unfortunately for the dragon, those not affected by the dragon's powerful weapon had been diligent in pressing their advantage. Many of Taliea's wounds had been healed in the interim of the fight, and the dragon was fast losing blood and the ability to continue the fight. She withered under the assault, which grew even further as her antagonists shrugged off the magical paralysis and resumed their efforts.
Phara Dar knew she was fast approaching the end if she did not take measures, and she had a trick still up her sleeve, so to speak. Telltale bubbles of magical energy began to erupt from the dragon's body, and effect Taliea had seen countless times by nearly every spell caster she knew.
"She's gating!" A burly voice shouted from off to the side, and Taliea dropped her evasive efforts. If Phara Dar gated now, she could summon and pick off every one of her attackers one by one, for between the dragon's lair and their present location, several minions of the Ring of Scale were patrolling.
However, the concentration needed to cast spells had left Phara Dar wide open. Taliea swung her blades as hard as she was able, opening deep gashes in the open chinks of scales where she had struck before. All around her, spell casters were using their most powerful attacks, and many using melee weapons fell into disciplines improving their attacks and leaving them more open to harm.
The efforts had the desired outcome, as Phara Dar lost her concentration on the spell, and with a weary shake of her head, she began to cast the spell again. Before she could get much into the chanting, though, a large blast of fire erupted on the dragon, striking her directly on the head.
With a long, subtle moan, the dragon slumped to the side of the halls, her wings falling like a shroud over the dead body as Phara Dar, undefeated by countless previous foes, finally perished at the hands of mortals she had never taken notice of, until it was far too late.
All around the hall, however, the sound of clapping, cheering, and the occasional startled cough and gasp of a successful resurrection issued forth. Taliea wiped her blades clean on the dragon's body, and placed the weapons securely in their scabbards.
As she did, she scowled fiercely to see that her cobalt armor was dented, torn, and in terrible condition. Likewise, her flowing leather pants were covered in the dragon's black blood, and large cuts all about revealed much of her tanned legs beneath the material. The black boots, oddly enough, had escaped with just a few splotches of grime from the encounter.
"Good job there, lass." A voice said, in the same burly tone as the shouted warning during the fight. Taliea straightened, then turned to see Garret Norden, a barbarian shaman, and leader of the guild Taliea had participated with during the last two days of fighting, the Warriors of the Dawn.
Taliea said nothing, but nodded her head slightly. Garret was a foot and a half taller than her, and Taliea could feel, rather than see, his gaze leering at her down his nose. She turned without comment and walked over to see from the others what had been found in the dragon's personal hoard to reward the victorious on the final victory over the home of the dragon-goddess's favored brood, Veeshan's Peak. [ 05-24-2003: Message edited by: Crystali ]
Taliea, not a member of the guild, would never be given anything by them until she joined, a bargaining chip that Garret played almost daily, sometimes backed up by Ogran and Selies, his chief advisors. Taliea had once been an officer of a guild herself, that of a guild known as Legacy.
Legacy had achieved much on these ruined lands of Kunark since the boats started the sojourn to the continent several months ago, counting the defeat of Trakanon, Severilious the Green, Talendor in the Skyfire Mountains, and Gorenaire of the Dreadlands amongst their kills. While they had traveled a few times into Veeshan's Peak, they had never been successful in slaying Hoshkar, the plague dragon lieutenant of the ring of scale.
The normally anti-social wood elf had one benefit that had excelled her well as an officer of Legacy, that of her keen mind for tactics and intuition against her foes. Legacy was lead, however, by a monk of Quellious, Sable Shadowhand, a charismatic firebrand who would take a sword in the belly and laugh at the swordsman while she slammed her fist into their face, always trusting others to keep her safe and well. She was not so much liked by Legacy, as she was adored. Taliea had counted her as her one of her closest friends.
The reckless nature of their leader had come to a head during their last battle against Venril Sathir, though, and the lich had prevailed. Draining every last vestige of the monks soul with his dark, draining necromantic powers, the body had instantly decayed to the point where no resurrection could have brought back the heart and soul of Legacy once more.
After that, despite the efforts of Taliea, Legacy slowly broke apart. Some, like Taliea's oldest friend, Serria Sunflare, had decided to settle down and leave the adventuring to the younger generations. Others, like Taliea, had simply struck out on their own, content to remain without ties. However, a vast majority of the guild had been petitioning to join their one-time friendly rivals, Warriors of the Dawn, and to their delight, the request had been granted.
Taliea had not only been present at the triumphant raid to lend her strategies and her finely honed battle skills to Warriors of the Dawn. She had agreed, with reluctance, to bless the final merger between Warriors of the Dawn and the twenty or so Legacy members. Ever since the deal had been approved, Garret had been striving his hardest to entice Taliea to join as well.
Thus far, though, she had refused and now, as the last officer of the guild, she would accept the bronze and copper signet rings embossed with the ornate "L" that marked them members of a dead guild, and take them to Freeport, where the guild would be formally disbanded by the magistrates.
Taliea's hand left the hilt on her left side and began to twist her own ring, a lustrous silver version of the common Signet rings. In one of her pouches, snatched from the dust and rot of her once friend's body was the gold and platinum signet ring Sable once wore constantly.
"Come now, Taliea." Garret's burly voice interrupted her reverie. "I cannae make the deal any better for ye, I'm thinkin! Ye'll join me guild as an advisor, no higher position except me own!" He argued, his voice taking a cajoling tone too it.
Taliea simply shook her head, and said, "They're yours now, Garret. They never really needed nor wanted me, it was all Sable, all along." Contrary to nearly everyone's beliefs, who on seeing the wood elf's rather constant and dark demeanor heard her soft, lilting voice, almost musical in nature. Sable had once described it as soothing enough to put dragons and demons into a lull, yet it was harder to get Taliea to say one sentence than to kill those monsters.
Garret gave a great sigh, and said, "Suit yerself, friend Taliea. Of course, yere always welcome amongst us, especially if ye should change yer mind... With that, he moved off back to the still celebrating adventurers, and slowly, one by one, her former guildmates would walk up to the wood elf in trepidation, and hand her their signet rings, many of them cringing in fear of her rebuke.
Instead, Taliea chose to clasp hands with many of the men, and give warm hugs to her female friends joining Warriors. Many apologized profusely, and even more still begged her to join with them. She simply nodded, or shook her head, in response to the words, not favoring a single member with any conversation.
In time, as the new signet rings were being passed out to the former Legacy members, Taliea gave a small tug on the robes of one of the druids present. With a curt nod, he cast spirit of the wolf to enhance her speed, and invisibility to make the passage easier, and the wood elf, without looking back once, speed off down the halls and finally jumped onto the magical disc in Phara Dar's lair, transporting her away from the peak.
-
The mists of magic swirled and faded quickly, leaving her slightly disoriented, but she soon found her center, and looked about. She stood on the lowest island on the plane of sky, its huge chains and barren landscape surrounding her, a cold and constant breeze swirling her cloak about.
Knowing the properties of the plane, she simply ran to the edge of the cliff and jumped off, closing her eyes as she fell into what was, apparently, nothing but clouds and empty sky.
Instead, she appeared several meters above the waters in the Eastern Freeport bay, landing in the warm salt water with a tremendous splash. Others who had made the jump, often found themselves in a dire situation with heavy armor and encumbering robes weighing them, but Taliea's choice of equipment made it easy for her to swim to the nearby dock.
Climbing out of the water, Taliea shook some of the water off her equipment, and looked at disgusted dismay at the sodden mass of clothing and torn metal armor she presented. Fortunately, her simple apartments in the human city were not far from the docks, and her scruffy appearance after several days of adventuring was not all that uncommon in these lands.
A few hours later found her in her "casual" clothing, a tight fitting dark green tunic with sleeves to her elbows, and a straight, simple black skirt instead of the metal armor and leather pants. She still wore her blades, and "modifications" to the skirt, slits running the length of some of the folds, allowed her almost as much maneuverability as her regular gear. She had enjoyed a quick bath as well, and the chance to knock the dust and grime from her body. Her long black hair was shining with reflection in the late afternoon sun.
She made her way through the northern section of the city, stopping at the bank to drop off the accumulation of cash she had acquired during the last week, and to change some of the coins into easier to carry platinum. The wood elf was a common sight in the city now, and fewer catcalls and whistles accompanied her as she walked briskly about the city.
After attending her common errands, such as replenishing her supplies of rations and water, she headed to the popular eatery and rough bar of the city, the Jade Tiger Den. The sun was beginning to fade over the horizon as she entered, waiting a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the lack of glare, and shift slightly into the infrared spectrum.
The establishment was doing a moderate amount of business this evening, with several tables filled, but still more open to all. Quiet conversation filled the air instead of bard's tunes and story telling. The atmosphere suited the wood elf fine.
A regular of the establishment, she simply waved at the owner, who nodded in return and pulled aside a sprightly young serving maiden, talking to her in hushed tones. The human girl nodded, and sprang off to fetch the wood elf's meal.
Taliea sat in a comfortable wooden chair at a small table, just barely enough for the plate of food on its way, let alone be conductive towards another dining with her.
She watched as the other servers lighted the candles about the room, filling it with light and subtle heat that was hardly required in the hot, muggy air of the ocean-side and desert-region city.
The wood elf was so lost in trivial thought as she watched, that she nearly jumped when a rather high pitch voice said, from behind her, "Arr Lady Elf Wench Girl! Do ye fancy a journey, eh?"
Taliea turned to face the speaker, ignoring the icy shock of adrenaline borne of surprise and years of fighting instinct, but the glance behind her revealed nothing more than the smiling serving girl returning with a glass of light wine and a plate of food. The smell of roasted boar wafted by as the server set the food down, and Taliea's thoughts on the speaker were almost immediatly forgotten.
The dismissal would have been complete were it not for an extremely rediculous looking leather hat struggling to ascend over the plane of the table in the other chair. Taliea watched in amused curiosity as the leather hat rose up, and was replaced by a large head, rudy skin, and bright inquisitive eyes of a gnome.
"Arr! Wench, bring me som o' thar ale!" the gnome said, his squeaky voice trying to affect a rough, burly tone. The girl looked at Taliea, who waved her hand in acquiescense, and the girl headed off to complete the gnome's order.
"So, do I have an 'interested' party here?" the gnome said after a moment, and Taliea, despite herself, grinned.
"What happened to your accent?" she asked, still mildly amused. The already reddish face turned a bright crimson, and the gnome said loudly, "ARR! Ye be tryin ta trick...oh forget it..." he finisehd in quiet tones. "Yeah, elf, we haven't been pirates long, but we're working at it, ok? I'd...I'd appreciate it if you keep this from the rest of me mates, a'ight?" he asked, an almost pleading look in his eye.
Taliea chuckled to herself, shook her head, and began to cut into her food. The gnome said something pirate-like to the serving girl who returned with a mug of ale, but whatever insulting or crass nature he possessed, the gnome did tip well, sending the server away with plenty of coins in payment for the ale, far more than the price of the alcohol.
"So, are you interested? You seem like the adventurer type, and you look like you've seen all the same old boring sights of the world by your look." The gnome said, in conversational tones. "I'd be interested." Taliea said softly, "If you get on with just what this 'journey' of yours is."
The gnome nodded and said, "Yah, your the smart type too...the perfect survivor for Velious." Taliea looked up from her food, her amused look instantly and startlingly repalced by an almost shocked look. It was the gnome's turn to chuckle at her expression, feeling superior that he finally got the one-up over the cool warrior.
Velious! Taliea thought wildly. Several of her friends in Legacy had been scholars, and indeed many had returned to that profession after the disbanding of the guild, and had told her many stories of the world and planes beyond the four lands: Antonica, Odus, Kunark and Faydwer. Stories of the Planes of Power, of the hidden moon known as Luclin, the dead moon Drinal, and the frozen, ice covered and ice surrounded continent of Velious.
"Yeah, lady, we've broken through the Iceclad Ocean and have established a dock. And believe me, there is plenty goin on in that frozen wasteland!" The gnome said boisterously, recognizing her shock and thoughts. Taliea by this time had recovered, and looked at the gnome thoughtfully. "So you take everyone to Velious now?"
The gnome nodded, and said, "We're lookin to start some trade with the locals there, but its all so crazy. I don't know much meself, but our leader, Captain Nalot, would be happy to inform you. He's at our station on Velious though, and sent me to round up adventureous types to head to the frozen lands and help us explore. If you went, you'd be among the first hundred to go, or something like that."
Taliea, almost involuntarily, nodded her head. The gnome smiled, and said, "There is a newly constructed dock on the deserts of Ro, near this city. Head there, and we'll take care of the rest." With that, the gnome downed the remainder of his ale, and slid out of the chair, heading out of the tavern, obviously to continue spreading the word of this newly opened continent and the travel to it.
Taliea finished the rest of her meal in silence and thoughtfulness.
Taliea, however, noticed little of the ocean, as she lay on the warm deck of the ship, basking in the heat of the sun above. Her breastplate and vambraces, along with the rest of her equipment, were safely stored below in a locked chest the gnomes had been kind enough to provide her (with a small amount of platinum doing most of the talking) while she sunbathed above. She wore a dark green tunic, and a pair of short leggings, dyed black. She lay on a fur-lined cloak (another purchase from the gnomes before the great ship departed, along with the opaque lensed spectacles she was wearing which the industrious gnome merchant had called "shades") and stretched her bare arms and legs, letting the sun further deepen the already rich tan typical of a Feir'Dal. Oddly, she still wore the black silken gloves and soft mesh-like bracers.
Still at her sides, though, were her two glowing blades, her most precious possessions in the world, sheathed in their colored scabbards. While the gnomes were cheerful, friendly, and almost always helpful, (even while they gathered not far away to leer at the young elven woman) Taliea had learned over her harsh young life not to trust people blindly.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, the instrumental occasion where she had learned said lesson floated into her day-dreams from the depths of her memories. It was a bittersweet memory to Taliea as well, as it also dealt with her first experiences in betrayal, deception, lies....and love.
--
A few months before Taliea set out into the world, the elven girl had completed her training at the hands of Regren, the master of the Emerald Warriors, the warrior's guild in Kelethin. Already Regren regarded her as a tactical genious, if a bit lacking in the more finesse skills of dueling and turning aside blows. Still, the girl had increadible agility and dexterity, able to dodge, duck, and evade blows outright and return them with deadly accuracy and acumen.
The evening of her graduation, Taliea had left Kelethin (for the last time for nearly two years, but she hadn't known that it would work out as such at the time) and travelled to Felwithe to be with her love, Darin. Darin Spiritstone, a student of at the paladin's academy in Felwithe, and Taliea Dai'sherian had met two years before, introduced to each other by a mutual friend, Serra. At first, the two had fallen into an intense argument over the virtues and vices of each one's chosen class, and Taliea had stalked off with Serra resolving never to talk to the young man again.
Yet the very next day they ran into each other, and instantly apologies spilled from both mouthes, leading to helpless laughter by all three. Serra had been called away to help her mother with something, leaving Darin and Taliea many hours alone to get to know one another.
Over time, they became friends, and then recently, they had become something more. All Taliea knew was she longed for the few days she was released by Regren to "rest and recover" which she immediatly used to make the two hour trek to Felwithe to stay with Darin. Often the three (Serra, Taliea, and Darin) would explore the ancient city of Felwithe, or have a picnic out in the Faydark forest (within the watchful eyes of the guardsmen). Mostly, the three loved to talk about the future, especially Taliea who had long lost the same awe that many of her classmates and generation of Feir'Dal still had for their giant forest. To her, the forest was a trap in time.
That day, she arrived in Felwithe moments before the same graduation of the young paladins of Felwithe, Darin included. The two were unlike in so many ways, but Serra had once commented that the differences made the two an increadible pair. Taliea was shorter than Darin, somewhat impatient in nature, and exceptionally skilled at using her weapons, but had little use for magic or religion. In fact, a short while before she met Darin was the day she first wore the crossed Sword-And-Axe holy sigil of Rallos Zek, instead of the tree-sigil of Tunare.
Darin, on the other hand, was nearly a foot taller than the wood elf, was not quite so good with his weapon, and was very philosophical, possessing deep thought and a questioning outlook in life. Combining the two allowed them to cover the other's weakness with their strengths, and many in both cities thought the two would at least become locally reknowned, if not legendary. It is unfortunate sometimes that such wishes come true.
--
Tylfon, the master of the Paladin's Order in Felwithe, snapped to a final salute, which was quickly reciprocated by the newly-minted young paladins before him, before he said in a loud, clear voice, "Dismissed!"
Immediatly, the gathering broke out in hearty cheering and well-wishing by each of the young men and women towards each other, but Taliea stood on the edge of the crowd, her tanned skin marking her quite out of the ordinary in the pale white city. She rocked eagerly on the balls of her feet until Darin broke through the crowd and noticed her. It never failed to amaze her how his clear blue eyes would light and gleam when he saw her, and she rushed forward to him. "Congratulations!" she said, her soft voice ringing clearly above the bustle of the other elves around them, as Darin gathered her close. His answer was a long kiss, one which left the wood elf blushing and almost dizzy.
"Congratulations yourself, Taliea of the Emerald Warriors!" Darin returned after they broke apart, a mischievious smile on his face. Taliea just laughed happily, as all was right with the world, and the two left the bridge to Darin's residence, where his parents had the mid-day meal ready.
Taliea had been introduced to Galian and Mersia Spiritstone a few months after the two young elves had met, and at first had been rebuffed by their stony dispositions. Slowly, however, Mersia first, then Galian, began to regard her better, even to the point now that Serra had heard whispered about town that Galian was preparing to talk to Taliea's foster parents about a potential marriage between the two. Serra had related the information to Taliea, who had immediatly broken into blushing embarassment.
"Welcome home dear! And hello there Taliea!" Mersia said in her singsong voice. A homemaker almost by tradition, Mersia had never set foot outside of the Greater Faydark, and rarely left Felwithe for any reason. Galian, at the moment, was on guard duty at the outer gates of Felwithe, and Mersia explained he would be there much of the afternoon and probably into the late evening.
The three elves ate a hearty lunch in honor of both the younger's achievements, and afterwards Taliea and Darin left the house to watch the elves of Felwithe enjoy the cool riverwater on such a hot summer day.
--
"Darin, when are we leaving the Faydark?" Taliea asked as they watched several children splash in the water, squeals of delight and excitement echoing off the vine covered walls. The Feir'dal lay in Darin's arms as they leaned against one of the buildings of Felwithe, using the shade to keep them cool.
"Hmm?" Darin questioned, a rumbling sound in his throat. He gently ran his hand through Taliea's black hair, lightly straightening any tangles he found. "You know, what we talked about before....leave the Faydark, see the rest of Norrath..." Taliea said, almost sleepily as she felt tingles flood through her at his touch.
"I thought we agreed to wait for Serra and Jaera, Tal." Darin said gently, for he knew that the greatest desire of the young woman in his arms was to leave what she viewed as the source of her agonizing memories, suffocating rules, and, in short, her pain.
"But thats another two years!" She pouted gently, but Darin smiled to hear that it was all in jest. "It seems unfair that clerics of Tunare must study longer than the paladins when your job appears twice as difficult to us non-magic wielders..." she commented.
"Yes, but the clerics do not spend their many years in training strictly learning, as we did. Much of their time is also devoted to prayer to our goddess, which in turn grants them greater power to their magic in the future. Daily devotion is done by both the paladin and cleric guilds, but whereas we are only required to attend the morning session, the clerics are required to attend all four." He said, drawing on his knowledge of the different guilds of Felwithe. And what he said was true, that in addition to a half-hour praying to Tunare after breakfast, Serra would also attend devotions after the mid-day and evening meals, and pray before she turned in for the night.
"And Jaera," Darin continued, "Is two years younger than both of us, dear one. Her training at the rogue's guild in Kelethin will be far from complete, and she is not even of age to make the decision to leave Kelethin. Yet the four of us swore that we would not leave the Faydark without each other."
Taliea sighed in defeat, for it was true they did decide that. In fact, they had bound their promise in the crystalline structure of a diamond they had found in Taliea's inheritance from her true parents....a diamond that was split perfectly into four parts, and was otherwise worthless. Each of the four carried one of the diamond points at all times, and Taliea always felt a rush of fate whenever she looked at it.
Of course, she had no idea that the fate bound in those diamond shards would have been so different from what she imagined. So different, and so terrible.
--
A cold breeze flooded over the half-dozing Feir'dal, bringing her from her dreams of Darin and the diamond, prompting Taliea to sit up. As she looked around, the full force of the cold wind struck her, and she began to shiver terribly, then her eyes fell on them.
Ice floes. Lots of them. Apparently they were nearing their destination, as the oogling gnomes who had been watching her sunbathe for hours were instead manning several locations about the vessel, checking for damage, integrity, and functionality of the speedy gnomeish ship, which had not slowed a bit even as it entered potentially dangerous waters.
Taliea quickly headed below decks, avoiding the other travellers, and went to a secluded corner, where her storage chest lay. Several minutes later, Taliea finished dressing as she normally did when starting an adventure, but this time around her cobalt armor and flowing pants she wore the fur lined cloak, and sunglasses. As the gnome merchant had promised, the cloak still gave her easy and clear access to the blades on her belt, something she had demanded when she purchased the garment.
As she went topside again, she immediatly understood the reasoning behind both the cloak and the strange glasses. Several gnomes wore similar gear, but those that didn't were often seen staggering about as the sun glared off the harsh ice and snow, blinding them. Those with shades (and the Feir'Dal herself) were able to tolerate such glares.
The temperature, however, had also dropped several degrees in a short amount of time, and the fur-lined mantle she wore managed to keep most of the cold wind and chilly temperatures from bothering her. Still, as they streamed ahead towards the now visable, but still distant large docks, the sun was obscured by heavy gray clouds, and as the ship manuevered to let its passengers off, snow began to trail lazily down from the sky.
After a few harrowing moments of stopping the vessal, the gnomes tossed large hemp lines ashore to the gnomes stationed there, tying up the ship for its brief stop. The gnomes aboard the ship flooded off before any of the passengers, some looking quite ill, some hungry, but most ran in a fairly straight line towards the igloo huts she had seen over the rise.
Taliea herself was the first passenger off, and as she stood on the docks, the snow above her beginning to intensify, she could only think to herself, now the real adventure begins
OOC: For awhile I didn't know how I wanted to start working in some of Taliea's past which has lead her to the point of setting out into Velious alone, and coupled with some excitment in EQ itself, I had put aside adding on to this for a long time. As an author far greater than myself said, "I found the project could not be wholly abandoned" and I set down to at least write a draft of what I wanted, when inspiration struck 
To be continued, hopefully soon, as Taliea sets out into Velious
