He had petitioned for five days and five nights without food or water. Knelt outside Grandmaster Cantoule's sanctum, he was exposed to the elements and the scrutiny of his peers. Neither had been especially kind.
It was of no surprise, then, that Terryn woke next in the infirmary.
The Monastery of the Yellow Rose was isolated, located high in the Earthspur mountains of Damara. A semblance of normality had been carved-out of the rugged terrain. A lay brother attended the room heedless of the howling wind outside, folding sheets for empty cots.
Terryn had silently resigned himself to failure long before the sub-prior arrived. His appearance caused memories to resurface of a rebellious child that railed against instruction. He expected stern reprimand and an appeal to 'aspirational virtues' from the man that served as his novice-master, but instead came the words, "Your request has been granted. You leave as soon as you are able, fool that you are."
From a young age, Terryn had been warned that he was different. His otherworldly ancestry was supposedly both a blessing and a burden for him to carry. It had made it unsafe for him to remain in Tethyr during the ongoing turmoil, and so as a young babe, he had been delivered to sub-prior Griswold's care as a favour for a long-time friend. "Keep him safe, keep him away," the sub-prior had recounted solemnly. "Tell him that we love him, and that he must never speak our family name."
This is why Terryn bore the surname Hawksroost instead. Bestowed by one of the abbots as a replacement, 'Hawksroost' was the birthplace of celebrated Daern of Hawksroost, an Ilmatari instrumental in safeguarding a relic in a quest that spanned Faerûn. Hopefully that name would protect Terryn as well.
But Terryn did not want protection. He had willingly and willfully chosen to walk the path of the Broken Ones rather than remain a lay person. His place was to ease burdens, and to undo those that would inflict suffering. The body he had trained as a monk and ascetic was now laid upon the rack for the sake of others.
And few had suffered greater than Tethyr and her people. The stories reached even these peaks. Perhaps it was selfish curiosity, or self-indulgent romanticism over a homeland that he had never known, but Terryn felt a connection to them. Their struggles resonated with his fervour.
"Know that I do not approve, but also that I am proud of your conviction. May your resolve be as long and strong as Daern's devotion."
Terryn left the monastery the very next morning. It was bittersweet, knowing it was quite likely he would never again see those old walls or familiar mountain trails. But now he was set upon his own quest - and by the tears of Ilmater, he vowed that he would not be found wanting.