Post by Kalysta on Aug 27, 2004 11:25:45 GMT -5
::::When i last left Aer, she was in Rivervale suffering a terrible comatose state plauged by nightmares of her past after eating some underdeveloped Kithicor Myconids, the death of Deanara plays into this as well:::
As the sun began to break over the rigde of mountains that surrounded Rivervale, the young elven girl began to rouse from her slumber. At first, she didnt know where she was, and though frightened terribly by her surroundings, she couldnt move to reach her staff lying a few feet away propped against the tiny chair and tiny table.
"Tiny tables and chairs?..." Aerista mumbled to herself "Where in the name of Tunare am I?"
At that moment, as if to answer her question, two of the little folk of Rivervale entered the tiny house.
"Mama! Mama! She's awake mama! She's going to be alright!!" the little boy shouted joyously as he danced around his mother to put the food down on the table.
"Yes, son, but she is still weak, and i think it wise to allow her to re.." but before she could finish, Aerista stood up and crossed to the center of the room.
"... she came in here... and crossed to the bed," Aer said, gesturing as she moved "she sat right here next to me and... i cant remember..." Aerista frowned at herself. Looking down at her arm, she noticed a small, almost faded mark.. her face paled as she realized what this mark was...
"Deanara is dead, isnt she?" she asked, the tears beginning to well up in her eyes, threatening to fall and show her sorrow.
"If you speak of a monk, then yes, i fear she is dead." the mother said matter of factly
"But.. how?.. when?.. who did this?!? I demand you tell me!" crying freely now, Aerista slumps back down on the bed "She was my friend :::sob::: I... we... I was supposed to meet her in Klick Anon..."
The elderly halfling sat gently next to the weeping girl on the bed. "my child, " she began, as she stroked her long red hair "sometimes things in life arent fair.."
"..Got that right.." the boy mumbled under his breath
Ignoring her son, the kind woman continued "This girl you speak of, this monk, she was a true friend, yes?"
"Well, I.. I bearely knew her, but... ah nevermind, its silly" Aer stammered between sniffles
"No, do go on child," the woman encouraged gently"To talk of our pain is to begin the healing process"
"Its just, she was my ... is my... friend. And i never got to say goodbye..."
"You dont remember her visit then?" The woman said, her smile playing gently on her lips as though hiding a secret
"Visit, but no, i saw her dead, standing in Freeport, in a dream..."
"Yes, this is true my child, but she was here also... to see you i assume" the woman spoke these last words slowly, as if trying to remember it all "She came in a beautiful light, and knelt over you, she left the mark, you know..." and with this the woman stood, walked to the stove and began to prepare dinner.
Aerista, assuming the conversation was over, stood and began to gather her belongings. Strange folk these Halflings, she thought to herself as she pulled the heavy wollen cloak over her, so small, and yet a sea of wisdom lies within them - i can feel it.
She was shaken from her thoughts but a gentle tug on her cloak hem. It was the young halfling boy who had saved her.
"Will you come back to see me when you get bigger, Aerista?" he asked earnestly awaiting her answer with his large puppydog eyes staring at her from a face that threatened to cry if she said no.
"Of course i will, though it may be a long time before i can... i have a matter to take care of, my little friend, and it cannot wait any longer."
And with that she rose, in a fluid motion reached into her pocket and grabbed the bag of Tunar that she had managed to make in Freeport running errands. She tossed the pouch onto the table, and glancing back only once made her way for the door....
At the grave of Deanara, many days later, Aerista knelt and wept for her fallen friend. She sat that way for nearly an hour before she felt it.... a cold brisk breath against the back of her neck. She spun around on her heels, staff drawn and lightning jumping eagerly from the tip of her hand to the tip of her staff, but there was no one.
"I know you were here, whoever you are..." she mumbled under her breath "and if you are responsible for Deanara's death, than you shall pay by my hand.." this promise she whispered half to herself and half to the cold earth in front of her that had become her friends final resting place. Aerista remembered not the words Deanara had left her with on their final meeting, and all she felt in her heart was an overwhelming blackness that changed her thoughts of sorrow and misery to vengance and bloodlust. As she crossed the street, careful not to step in the muddy carriage ruts driven deep into the packed earth, one thought crossed her mind...
"I must find Slyfoot... surely sly is the only one who can help me with this..." and with that, she settled in at the bar for a long night of drinking and melencholy.
As the sun began to break over the rigde of mountains that surrounded Rivervale, the young elven girl began to rouse from her slumber. At first, she didnt know where she was, and though frightened terribly by her surroundings, she couldnt move to reach her staff lying a few feet away propped against the tiny chair and tiny table.
"Tiny tables and chairs?..." Aerista mumbled to herself "Where in the name of Tunare am I?"
At that moment, as if to answer her question, two of the little folk of Rivervale entered the tiny house.
"Mama! Mama! She's awake mama! She's going to be alright!!" the little boy shouted joyously as he danced around his mother to put the food down on the table.
"Yes, son, but she is still weak, and i think it wise to allow her to re.." but before she could finish, Aerista stood up and crossed to the center of the room.
"... she came in here... and crossed to the bed," Aer said, gesturing as she moved "she sat right here next to me and... i cant remember..." Aerista frowned at herself. Looking down at her arm, she noticed a small, almost faded mark.. her face paled as she realized what this mark was...
"Deanara is dead, isnt she?" she asked, the tears beginning to well up in her eyes, threatening to fall and show her sorrow.
"If you speak of a monk, then yes, i fear she is dead." the mother said matter of factly
"But.. how?.. when?.. who did this?!? I demand you tell me!" crying freely now, Aerista slumps back down on the bed "She was my friend :::sob::: I... we... I was supposed to meet her in Klick Anon..."
The elderly halfling sat gently next to the weeping girl on the bed. "my child, " she began, as she stroked her long red hair "sometimes things in life arent fair.."
"..Got that right.." the boy mumbled under his breath
Ignoring her son, the kind woman continued "This girl you speak of, this monk, she was a true friend, yes?"
"Well, I.. I bearely knew her, but... ah nevermind, its silly" Aer stammered between sniffles
"No, do go on child," the woman encouraged gently"To talk of our pain is to begin the healing process"
"Its just, she was my ... is my... friend. And i never got to say goodbye..."
"You dont remember her visit then?" The woman said, her smile playing gently on her lips as though hiding a secret
"Visit, but no, i saw her dead, standing in Freeport, in a dream..."
"Yes, this is true my child, but she was here also... to see you i assume" the woman spoke these last words slowly, as if trying to remember it all "She came in a beautiful light, and knelt over you, she left the mark, you know..." and with this the woman stood, walked to the stove and began to prepare dinner.
Aerista, assuming the conversation was over, stood and began to gather her belongings. Strange folk these Halflings, she thought to herself as she pulled the heavy wollen cloak over her, so small, and yet a sea of wisdom lies within them - i can feel it.
She was shaken from her thoughts but a gentle tug on her cloak hem. It was the young halfling boy who had saved her.
"Will you come back to see me when you get bigger, Aerista?" he asked earnestly awaiting her answer with his large puppydog eyes staring at her from a face that threatened to cry if she said no.
"Of course i will, though it may be a long time before i can... i have a matter to take care of, my little friend, and it cannot wait any longer."
And with that she rose, in a fluid motion reached into her pocket and grabbed the bag of Tunar that she had managed to make in Freeport running errands. She tossed the pouch onto the table, and glancing back only once made her way for the door....
At the grave of Deanara, many days later, Aerista knelt and wept for her fallen friend. She sat that way for nearly an hour before she felt it.... a cold brisk breath against the back of her neck. She spun around on her heels, staff drawn and lightning jumping eagerly from the tip of her hand to the tip of her staff, but there was no one.
"I know you were here, whoever you are..." she mumbled under her breath "and if you are responsible for Deanara's death, than you shall pay by my hand.." this promise she whispered half to herself and half to the cold earth in front of her that had become her friends final resting place. Aerista remembered not the words Deanara had left her with on their final meeting, and all she felt in her heart was an overwhelming blackness that changed her thoughts of sorrow and misery to vengance and bloodlust. As she crossed the street, careful not to step in the muddy carriage ruts driven deep into the packed earth, one thought crossed her mind...
"I must find Slyfoot... surely sly is the only one who can help me with this..." and with that, she settled in at the bar for a long night of drinking and melencholy.
keep it up, you give me great stuff to work off of)
lol
i mean, met an elf as pretty as you..." and with that he grabbed her hair and dragged her down the length of the bar. He paused only to open a door that connected the smelly dank cellar to the rest of bar. It was in here, this room that stank of old urine and stale beer that she was thrown, her staff wrenched easily from her hands by the oafs brute strength and her own intoxication. After the door had been slammed in her face, and locked from the outside no less, she began to look around her "new home". On the floor near a muddy ground level window, she found a pile of straw, evedently the barkeeps bed. Steering clear of it, she curled herself up in a ball in the far corner, and prayed for the best.... fearing the worst.
i couldnt be happier with the way that turned out... )