In dull mismatched, but well cared for, armor, Lynnara sat at the edge of the foreboding Kithicor Forest, deftly patching an old drum. "Really, how bad can this place be?" she thought to herself as she gazed into the woods that seemed to swallow all life and light. Sounds she had never heard before and that made her skin crawl called out to her from the gloom, but they were not going to stop her from continuing her journey. It never dawned on her to think back to her lessons about these very woods, and the curse that lay upon them now.
She could already hear the voice of Belious Naliedin chuckling and making some wry comment about the fearlessness of young people. She had only met him once when she was two summers old, before she had joined the Songweavers, at the Faradome, the mid-summer celebration. The city of Kelethin had gathered on the large meeting platform, high amidst the trees, sparks from a great bonfire reaching to join their counterparts in the night sky. He had woven many a tale that night, saving the more frightening ones till the little ones, her included, had gone to bed.
Since then, he had become a bit of a legend within the Hall. He had left the forest, and travelled until he reached the sea on the far side of Antonica, where he helped establish another Hall within the fair city of Qeynos. He was also one of the first troubadours within network of bardic couriers that now spanned Norrath. Lynnara had grown up listening to stories of this half-elf, his name being used to inspire or keep the novices in line, many a time directed at her in the latter context.
She had worked hard to do her parents and masters proud; working hard at all that was set before her, doing her best not to get into any more trouble since her last warning, which just meant that she had strived harder at not getting caught. She had preferred to be running along the railings of the rope bridges that connected the platforms, or sitting on the roofs of the huts, rather than being cooped up inside unless she was doing chores for Canloe Nusback in Kaladim. Languages had been particularly difficult until it was noticed that she learned them faster with songs, although reading and writing them were still a challenge. It had taken her a full year to compose a song worthy to play at the Yenearsira, the Winter Solstice festival, but she had finally proven to all that she was ready to move to the next level of her training, two decades later.
Absentmindedly, she adjusted the patch on her armor that declared her of minstrel status of the Songweavers, which allowed her to leave unaccompanied from the lands of Faydwer, remembering the goodbyes that would be the beginning of her first mission and her first trip to Antonica. Sylia Windlehands, one of her masters, had spent the week before the departure attempting to re-teach everything Lynnara had learned over many years. Her mother, a part-time guardian of the forest with the Soldiers of Tunare and ever the pragmatist, first had slipped her daughter a talisman of protection against conception, "Just in case," while they worked on her packs, and then crying at the actual send-off, gave her daughter another small talisman for protection and luck. Her father, a retired Scout and now a teacher within his Hall, had sharpened all her weapons and repaired all her armor, even though he was the one who taught the young wood elf how to do those very things.
Straightening from her task, she glanced to the sky and its dying light, then back to the gloomy woods. Squaring her shoulders, speaking out loud for the reassurance of her own voice, "I am a Feir'dal. I was the fastest in my class. No problem." Not knowing any better, the young bard started jogging down the path, quickly swallowed by the darkness.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the forest, a small caravan made its way along the faded track down from the mountain pass of Highhold, a group of human and barbarian merchants on their way to the newfound continent of Velious. A young barbarian was leading one of the wagons, the tattoos on his face and peeking out from under the neckline and sleeves of his tunic and vest, along with the two short swords at his side, depicting him as a student of war. His attention was fully focused on a worn, leather-bound book of battle tactics his master had given him before they had left the northern city of Halas, one hand resting on the halter of a mammoth.
The wagon ahead of him slowed as the caravan reached the edge of the woods. Distracted, the young warrior kept walking until his mammoth reared his head and a voice rang out, "Khelso!" Looking up, startled, Khelso sheepishly put his book away as his aunt approached; her hands on her hips with the look only a motherly woman can give. "Khelso, you have been nothing but trouble lately. I thought you would be glad to leave Halas."
"I would be except we're going to someplace even colder. Why can't we go back to your shop in Firiona Vie? All my friends are there and it's warm and I could even complete my studies there." He looked down on his aunt, as he was already a few inches taller than her, his face hopeful. She sighed and shook her head. "Khelso, we've told you – a merchant goes where the trade is, and until you're of age, you go where your father and I go."
He made a face before taking a breath, schooling his voice, "But I'm not a merchant and I'll be of age this winter. I can feel the Tribunal smile on me when I master another combination."
"Which is why we brought you to Halas; someone had to teach you further since you learned everything from your teacher at Firiona Vie. And now that you've earned your next tattoo, we must go on. The cold won't be so bad – you're a barbarian after all. No promises, but mayhap the Coldain will let you drill with the guard. Just try not to upset your father." The last was said with tired resignation, as she was the referee between the two men since her sister had died.
When he nodded, she patted his arm and hurried back to her wagon. Grumbling to himself, Khelso tugged on the mammoth's halter and looked around, noticing the dark woods looming over the caravan. A cold mist drifted across the ground and between the trees, masking them in an eerie light. He couldn't figure out why they were going through the forest this late in the day, but then, his father rarely shared his reasons for doing things once he learned his son was to follow the warriors' path. The closest they could come to talking about the future was a chance of Khelso becoming one of the caravan's guards, something as exciting as watching snow fall, in his mind. Shrugging deeper into his polar bear skin cloak and loosening his swords by instinct, the young man marched along, warily peering into the gloom, trying to discern whether it was shadows or if there were shapes moving between the trees.
With little warning, a pack of dread wolves appeared, lunging for the merchants and the mammoths. Stepping clear to let the mammoth protect itself, reflexes left one wolf lying on the ground, twitching, in a growing pool of blood, while another flew into the trunk of a tree, thrown by the large mammal. Up ahead, Khelso could hear his family and friends fighting the wolves. Pulling the wagons together, the traders fought with everything they had, killing many of the pack, yet more came leaping out of the darkness.
"So far, so good," Lynnara thought as she ran along the path clutching her drum and the talisman. Suddenly, a flash of dark fur and fangs struck her in the chest, knocking the wind from her lungs. Staggering to her feet and gasping for air, she found herself staring down a wolf half again her size. Her weapons appeared in her hands. To her surprise, a flash of red light surrounded the wolf as she was struck with intense pain throughout her body. Gritting her teeth through the pain, Lynnara leapt at the wolf, burying her dagger deep into its right eye, but not before it bit into her shoulder. It hurt, badly. Singing a song to mend her wounds and give her energy, she picked up her drum. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Broken. Again. Just as she bent to pick up her talisman, the sounds of shouts and growls reached her ears. Without thinking, she limped towards the noises.
Coming to the clearing, she saw a group of merchants stood with their backs to their wagons, protecting those who had fallen. Standing in front of the group were two large male Northmen, one wielding a huge spear and shield, and the slightly smaller one with two swords, bleeding from multiple slashes and cuts. The ground was littered with unmoving forms of wolves; blood was everywhere, even on the enormous mammoths. The people were visibly exhausted, and there were a handful of wolves still advancing.
While the two giant men engaged in battle with more of the lupine monsters, the bard leapt into the midst of the wolves, stunning one before it cast on her again, staggering in agony when another did, and let out a loud screech that would make a banshee proud. Bewildered, the wolves paused long enough for barbarians to slay the ones that had not scattered in fright.
As soon as the beasts were out of sight, Lynnara joined the merchants and brought out her flute, calling forth a magical mist to hide them for the moment. Immediately, the largest human she had ever laid eyes on, carrying a spear that was bigger than her, began shouting orders and soon the wounded and dead were in wagons being tended to. Someone picked her up and placed her on the seat of the wagon that looked to be led by the sword-carrying man. She wearily put down the instrument with relief and soon the caravan was moving swiftly to the east, the way she had come from. Nothing more was said until camp was set up beyond the forest and next to the Commons Lake at the fishermen huts, under a dark sky, clouds hiding the stars.
Rested and healthier than most, Lynnara began to work alongside of young man whose wagon she had ridden in and a female who appeared to be his mother, putting the skills her own mother taught her to work. The three quietly and methodically tended the wounded. As she wound clean bandages around a wounded woman's arm, Lynnara cast quick glances towards the man. She figured him to be close to her age, the tattoos and her lack of knowledge of the northern people made it hard to guess. That, and she knew that elves aged slower than the Men, so it was always difficult to compare. Regardless, he was old enough to grow a full beard, trimmed neatly into a fetching goatee, with his shoulder-length hair tied back with a leather thong.
The woman straightened, and pushed the two young people down, authoritatively, "Now. It is your turn to be tended." Lynnara grinned and removed her vambrace to show how her skin was once-again flawless even though the armor was punctured. "My name's Lynnara Starspinner, of the Songweaver's Guild." She flashed a smile at the handsome man next to her. "My song will make you feel better, if you wish...?" He stuck out his hand, and the two clasped forearms. "Khelso Kladhmionn of Halas, and it'd be greatly appreciated. This is my aunt, Aimil Connoy, and my father be th'one tending to the wagons." He gestured with his chin where the large older man inspected the undersides of each wagon, ensuring no broken axels or wheels. The women nodded at each other, as Aimil spoke, wiping her hands on her skirts, "By the way, thank you for your help – out there and in here." As she said this, her nephew smiled warmly at Lynnara in a way that made her pulse quicken and cheeks flush, shrugging off the thanks.
Later, the only sounds were the occasional cry of a plains cat accompanied by crickets, the nervous shuffling of the mammoths, and the murmurs of people talking around the camp. The two young travelers sat apart from the group, talking quietly. He spoke of growing up in Firiona Vie, and then moving to Halas after his aunt and father closed their shop so he could receive the training he needed and of how he hated the cold and was dreading going to Velious. His mother, a warrior as well, died in an ambush set by the ice giants when he was young, thus his father moved away from the Northlands. He had wanted to be a warrior like his mother since he could remember, wanting to travel, but not as a merchant. He also loved to read anything he could get his hands on, an odd trait amongst those who walked his path.
She sang him a song of warmth and comfort, and was envious of his book collection. She spoke of a city in the treetops and how it never snowed, getting into enough trouble with the bards to call for detention almost daily, and her dislike of spiders. Her father worked with the Scouts, teaching the young ones how to fletch their own gear, and stockpiling the stores "just in case". Her mother spent part of her time out tending the forest, the rest in a store selling herbs. Khelso took joy in her voice and watched, curious, as she repaired her much-loved drum.
This continued over the next few days, bard never far from warrior and vice versa, as the caravan made its way to the Desert of Ro. The adults exchanged knowing looks whenever the young couple would vanish after the camp was set; Northmen being indulgent of such behavior so long as both parties involved know what they were doing and neither dishonored their family names.
The day came when the wagons were loaded onto the barge that would take them to the island where the Icebreaker, the latest gnomish invention of great magnitude, docked. The two young people stood off to one side, holding hands with sad looks upon their faces. "I wish I could go with you, but I'm already off schedule from the mail run and probably in trouble for it." The wood elf ducked her head, sniffling.
Releasing one of her hands, Khelso presented her with a new drum. "Your other drum is worn out, and you said it helped you run faster. So I made this for you so you can run faster back to me. Sorry for the texture – Father would only let me use old sharkskin for some reason." Turning it over in her hands, feeling the rough skin, she beat out a little rhythm. Beaming a smile at him, "It's perfect, thank you." Deciding not to hurt herself in an attempt to wrap her arms around his neck, she settled for his waist and rested her head against his broad chest, catching him with surprise for a moment before he enfolded his arms around the slight elf.
They stood like that for what seemed an eternity, and then pulled apart at the sound of footsteps. She was carrying a large pack and a huge claymore that belonged to Khelso's father. Despite her nephew's questioning look, she handed him the pack and spear and gestured behind her, where her sister's widower was talking to several of the barbarians from the fishing village. "Your father says there is not enough room on the barge for everyone now that there are several from the village joining us. You have our blessing and our love. Make us proud, and take care of this special girl." She kissed him on the cheek and gave Lynnara a firm embrace, whispering, "Take care of our boy."
With that, she was gone, the couple standing there, unsure of what had just happened, the pack and sword forgotten for the moment. They shook their heads as if in a daze as Frankel, the pirate gnome who sold passage aboard the Icebreaker, announced the departure of the barge. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they watched as the barge set sail towards the horizon, the silhouette of Khelso's father saluting them.
Turning to Khelso, Lynnara searched his face then winked, "Hope legs as long as yours mean you can run fast." He was following the echo of her laughter.
Anerak - dark elf, priest, faction encylopedia for my server. My first main, as healers were often in need. It was my mission to be liked by every temple in Norrath, and I mostly succeed. Sometimes it was just a little more difficult than others to get past the other NPCS ;) But it was always funny seeing people's reactions to me sitting next to high elf guards.
Lynnara - wood elf, bard. My second main and my source of most nostalgia & carpel tunnel. I was twisting 4 songs seamlessly for hours before they came up with /melody. *shakes her cane*
Rhonwynn - barbarian, shaman. Just an alt, mostly to learn how to maintain buffs.
Arkhon, Khelso were both my hubby's toons.
Any NPC names and locations and lore, whatnot, that I used belong to SOE.