An elder man stepped briskly into his glorious private chambers. He carried white robes embroidered with gold in stark contrast to his darkened skin. He removed his large wig and placed it onto a wooden sculpture of his own head, the three purple circles tattooed on his head standing out much clearer without the fake hair. The Priest layed down over his desk, tired, exhausted and defeated. He would not cry his pride kept him from it, instead he turned to a bottle of fine wine to regain his courage. He lost track of the hours as night came and more than once he angrily yelled at servants to bring him wine and leave him alone. when the man found himself staring longingly at the night sky out his window he fetched a quill and paper.
“Dear Nulara, not a day passes that i don’t think about you. I know i have not shown you any attention since zet took you. But i might not be long for the world now, and before i meet you again i must utter the sins i have committed since. I am not the man you knew anymore.
The church has cast me down from my position and my power has vaned, my strength crumbled without you, and i fear i never quite managed to pull it together. For year i kept working as if nothing had happened i was true to the Sun god
Eventually misery caught up to me, i began drinking and I have not stopped since. And my true fall came when i gave into temptation to an elven seductress. The child we never had haunts me whenever i look at the halfbreed bastard that i now must keep under my roof.
Mayit is her name, named after the domain of zet, she is weak and cries a lot. when the house of helcaliant found out about my indiscretions, i was made a glorief choir boy in the church. And whatever wealth we have is barely left now. I’ve tried to make this half-elven outsider a true mulhorand, but she is inattentive and i fear no amount of flogging will reach her mind. I have pleaded to Horus-Re and locked her onto the roof in the desert sun for days, that he might burn out the impure blood or make her see the wisdom he posses.
I see her grow slower than the other children, she remains a child for too long, and before she is grown i will be with you.
Nulara, i wonder what you would think of me now, poor, old with little gift from the great master of vengeance.
When we do meet again, i hope i am not disgusting to you, and i hope Horus-Re will let us be wealthy together again.”
The man stumbled across the the room to his bed and feel over tiredly, mumbling curses on to himself and his child. And in the morning his paper had been stolen, and he had forgotten ever written it. And for the last year of his life, whenever he flogged his child she would look at him with a smile, knowing she would live and he would not.
A caravan master walked into his tent and placed a young sleeping half elven girl on field bed. His he sighed and grumbled some then sat down to tend to his wounds, he knew only brave men made the trip across anauroch, but this time he had sorely misjudged the character of some of his crew. He cleaned the blood from his sword and shield before sitting down to write a report.
“Sir Valdenheel, The caravan will be delayed, and we will discuss the compensation upon the arrival, we have lost none of the goods but we lost a fair share of men, and i must attempt to get reinforcements before continuing.
There was a stowaway among the goods, some of them men found her hidden and began beating her and screaming at her. Eyewitnesses state the men intended to murder and suspected worse. Once i arrived the fight had broken out and three men lay dead. The remaining criminals were put down by myself and my second in command, we’ve executed them on the road and left them to rot, we will bring their paper for identification.
The stowaway was wounded, she is a young woman of half-elven blood. I talked with her for a while after, and she calmed down some. She has been walking for a long time, apparently following the sun from dawn til dusk, saying it is a sign. I would send her away, but leaving her here in this desert is a death sentence. My second in command told me there is evil in her soul. But she is young and i will bring her to your justice, but i would advise kindness. I think she has seen too much suffering.”
The man folded the report and rubbed his scruffy beard. He looked over the young woman on the field bed and sat down in a chair. He had been a good soldier most of his life. fought many battles for good reasons. Killing men was easy to him and not something he enjoyed, had he he might have become a greater man than a caravan leader. you can fight evil as much as you want, kill every bandit and monster, but to this man what truly brought him joy was when he could save someone, and show them another life. A lesson he would burn into the soul of this young woman, only he knew it not yet.
A blond haired historian and oghmarian priestess walked in to her office, her arms filled with reports and tests from her students. She adjusted her glasses and eyed a letter on her desk. She placed her students test on another of her desks, before turning to the letter. It was from the Lathander institute, as she called in her own head.
“Principal and Lady Missinria, i write to you because of my student Mey Fezim. The Dawnbringer Liam, says he respects your wish to have her study under the Rhyester’s Mantis and will not expel the student. So i write you directly so that you may understand what kind of student she is.
She has missed more than one class the previous season, and slept in several others. she spends her free hours not cleaning the chapels or tending to other voluntary duties, instead i have found that she mingles with acolytes from sunes temple.
She is disobedient.
She is lazy.
She is inattentive
She is failing tests
but most of all she is simply a bad student. I have tired patience, i have tried encouragement, i have tried consequences, and this tenday her misbehaviour drove me to use the rod on her fingers. she should be expelled as she will never make a good dawnbringer or priestess of any sort.”
The elderly lady read the letter carefully, and considered the words. Sir Valdenheel had asked that this student could be fostered at the temple. But if she was a disturbance to any of the young learners in the temples perhaps it should be reconsidered. She pondered for a while, but she noticed in the letter, there was no mention of the student being a disturbance or hindering others learning. Perhaps this student would never make a good priestess, or perhaps she simply learned slower than others. And one cannot be held accountable for learning slowly, as long as they learn. She wrote a reply to the frustrated teacher, that perhaps he should consider the words of his own god
“Place more importance in activities that help others than on strict adherence to rules, rituals, and the dictates of your seniors.” And none of the student activities seems to be of evil nature. The lady began to correct th tests of her student, not knowing that she would find letters near identical to the one she just read at the end of each season.
Mey had walked for a while, a very long while. she had headed south away from silverymoon. She was beyond thankful for her time at the Rhyester’s Mantis. She had followed the sun her father had worshipped, and when she arrived she had seen it take the shape of Lathander, she knew she should have been a better acolyte, she knew not her teachers threats of being expelled had never born fruit.
But her time at the temple, it was the time in her life she had been reborn, seen all the joy life can offer, wine, parties, fun, love birth. She had been so busy experiencing all the good the city had had to offer, and it had hurt her studies. But still she had managed to be ordained, and her teacher did admit, that he was glad she managed to stick with it. After her ordination, she had been told she would guard crypts and graveyard and help the local with disease and births. But i didn’t sit right with her.
Only two days after she had been ordained, she took what what she felt fair and an armor she fancied and left. How could she stay in silverymoon and live so gloriously. No she had to go somewhere darker, somewhere in much more peril.
“What use is another twig on a flaring fire, when it can instead be a blazing fire on it’s own for those who live in darker places.