1103 Winsome Lane and the blocks surrounding it – (site of Lesawe’s apartment)
In the maze of streets there is a section not far from the market street where things approach a state of ordinary. People go to work each day and money gets tight at times. Few of the inhabitants deadtime, and they fix their problems by talking instead of throwing magic spells at one another for a perceived insult. Though that is not to say the inhabitants of these few blocks cannot use spells, as they commonly heal their wounds or clean their garments with a string of words.
Halfway down the second block of densely packed houses is a two and a half story building. It shares walls with the buildings on either side of it. 1103 Winsome Lane.
The peeling paint on the doorframe is a welcoming color. The brand new windows contrast with the aging, but well kept, brick.
Just inside the door are pails of housepaint in a color that should look lovely on the doorframe and the walls inside. Dust covers the pails.
Immediately to the left is a door with the number 1 nailed to it. To the right is a staircase. Walking up the creaky stairs brings a person to a landing and a door with 2 nailed to the front. Beyond that the stairs get slightly narrower.
At the very top, beneath the beams of the roof, is a final door. A 3 is nailed to the front, and a welcome mat lies before it.
In room three:
Those Lesawe invites in will be greeted by a cheery garret. Windows are set in the four dormers that protrude from both sides of the roof. The gables are red brick and the far end protrudes a little on the left side as it holds the chimney for the fireplaces downstairs. A wood stove in the kitchen is set to vent its smoke out a separate chimney. Well swept wood floors run the length of the apartment. The sharply sloping roof leaves little headroom except in the middle. Anyone over five feet tall had best prepare to duck when they walk toward the apartment’s sides.
A table with a well-polished shine to its nicked legs and top, miss-matched kitchen chairs, and plenty of cupboards form the kitchen area off to the right. A plush armchair and a sofa with a slipcover over it are arranged around a bright rug near the window to the left. A bookshelf full with all manner of volumes completes the living area. The walls dividing the apartment at the back right show the bathroom must be behind that door. Through an open door to the back left Lesawe’s bedroom is visible, with a hand-carved wood trunk positioned at the foot of the bed. _________________ My posting has long gaps. Please don't wait for me. Keep movin & I'll catch up when I can.
Lesawe and Alendor's entire discussion in the streets.
Credits: Alendor and all associated descriptions by TigersFang.
Lesawe and all associated descriptions by wingrae.
Suddenly Alendor looks around, then back behind them. Lost? No, but definitely on a street that Alendor hadn't noticed before. "It would seem that there are far less people on this street. I might go so far as to say that I don't see anyone else on it. Does it lead to anywhere in particular?"
It is one of the lesser known side streets, very few of the PC's know of it, and a great many people in Town don't even notice it. It leads to a section of the city where only NPC's live and the PC's might wander through, but never seem to notice us or our residences much.
A locale of normal obscurity in Town? This is a must see for Alendor.
"To wander through an area and not at least take in some of your surroundings? What an odd way to live." He finds this rather odd. Half of the fun of wandering was taking in your surroundings. Even if just a small portion of them. "I do have a question for you Les. I have heard the terms P-C and N-P-C a number of times since my arrival in Town and have come to the conclusion that they both refer to people. Can you explain the difference to me? Would you mind?"
We are noticed, as one might notice a rock in their path, or some other inanimate object deemed worthy of notice only for the sake of not running headlong into it. She explains as they step out from the narrow side street and come to a cobblestoned street with buildings crowded on either side of it.
Most of the buildings appear to be houses, two stories tall and most all of them sharing a wall with the house beside it. Some of them have little businesses on the ground level and living quarters above, others are all living quarters, and he should get the feeling they are quite crowded. Most all the aging buildings are well kept.
A girl runs down the street leading a puppy by a rope.
Across the street some men are repairing a roof. One of them yells rather colorfully as he accidentally smashes his thumb. The other worker laughs good naturedly, "Watch it, that's the second time today!"
"Like you have to remind me..."
Alendor's keen eye should spot the man's other thumb is heavily bandaged with a strip of white cloth. It sticks out like a sore thumb.
Two older women gossip about so-and-so’s sister who shouldn’t have married such-and-such as they walk past Alendor and Lesawe.
Of course there is the fellow who just used prestidigitation to clean the paint he just spilled off of his shirt, and a three tailed cat just disappeared through the doggie-door of a nearby residence, so not all is purely normal.
It is not that we can not be seen, it is that many choose not to see us, it is not that our houses are invisible, it is they are deemed beneath notice. Most people just stick to the main sections of Town and don't bother to search deeply enough to find this street.
We are common folk, who live life normally. Many of us have our own unique abilities that make surviving in the Nexus possible, but around here that is part of being normal.
Here is the way I see things, PC’s are like the elite, they hold the majority, or some would say they hold all, of the power. To mistreat a PC will get you in trouble quicker than you can say ‘hot oil’, but as NPC’s we can be slaughtered with little regard. If we talk with a PC they rarely ask us our stories, they rarely expect us to even have a last name. They think we exist only to serve a set purpose that meets their ends.
There are other differences as well. NPC’s rarely experience the phenomenon of deadtime, they rarely go on adventures. Many theories exist on how this came to be. Some say it is a difference in power, others something inherently different in the people themselves, others think it has to do with some great game in which we all are just pawns. I don’t know. I only know what I experience firsthand.
Alendor watches the people as Les talks. The 'colorful yelling' catches his attention, but he realizes that it is just a hammer injury and quickly relaxes. Though he does send a small glowing orb shooting toward the injured man, it contains a spell of healing should it not be inhibited. He hears a prestidigitation spell being cast as he watches the three tailed cat disappear. That really got his attention, he likes cats.
"I think that what you are saying makes sense. Though I never really thought of it like that. People are people, no matter who they are. Just because they go unnoticed does not mean that they are meaningless. I have noticed though that there seems to be little regard for the ones that are generally referred to as NPC's. I do wish it were not so, but some people just don't care what happens to others. Much less people that they see as beneath their notice."
Alendor notices the way that Les seems to include herself in the category of the unimportant in her description. He assumes it comes from growing up in town and not being noticed a lot. It bothers him a little, not sure if it shows. After all he does consider her important to his world at least.
Every person is precious. From Shawna’s child to Mr. Andover.
As she says their names she waves and calls hello! to the two people in question. Both are utterly normal human people. With her back turned to them it doesn’t seem Shawna has a child, but when she turns to return Lesawe’s wave one can see she is a few months along.
Mr. Andover raises a gnarled hand, unable to completely straighten his fingers, but his nearly toothless grin shows he’s happy to see his neighbor walk by. A sleepy tabby cat is curled up next to him on the bench. The sunshine warms its fur and Mr. Andover strokes it every so often, making it purr like a little lawn mower.
Every person is specially made by the Creator and holds immeasurable worth. She looks at him with sadness in her eyes But so many forget that truth.
She keeps walking along a row of houses that are divided down into smaller apartments. Her feet know this path well and walk along, automatically stepping around the broken cobblestone here and the uneven walkway there.
Alendor follows her down the street. He considered her words for a moment. He did not know of this Creator that she spoke of, but it certainly made sense. Besides, he very much doubted that the Seldarine existed in this plane. Someone had to have made it. Things like life just don't 'happen' from Alendor's viewpoint. "Sadly what you say about others forgetting is true. Would you tell me of this Creator that you speak of though? I am not familiar with the higher beings in this world. If there is a being that cares enough to make each person specially, then I would like to know of them."
A smile spreads across her face, a smile filled with the joy of being valued, loved, and speaking of the one who values her and all people above all else.
The beauty is, you can do more than know of the Creator, you can know our Creator personally, for we who choose to follow are called friends by the One who made us.
The Creator is the one who made all that is, without the Creator there would be nothing. The Creator spoke life into existence. First calling light into being, and then air, and moving onward until the final creation was us, people. We are specially chosen, capable of worshiping our Creator, knowing what it is to be loved by the One who made us and to return that love through faith.
The Creator desired for us to be near, to be a friend, and desires that so much that even after people have chosen to reject their Creator and have chosen to harm others the Creator still makes a way for us to change…
or, rather, a way for us to choose to be changed, for it is not possible to change oneself.
To do that the Creator came in person, as a mortal, and lived as we do...
She pauses for a second
Am I rambling on too much?
On the contrary, Alendor could likely listen to Les all day.
He smiles as he says, "Not at all. I find your explanation very interesting. What you are describing is something that is entirely foreign to me. And you seem to have such belief in it that it gives it credence. The idea that there is really a true God the cares for us unconditionally, no matter what, is most amazing to me. There is no such being where I came from." His look says that he has seriously considered her words and will not likely soon forget what she tells him.
I am sorry to hear that. It must be terrible not having a God to go to with your troubles and know that someone cares even when life goes wrong.
She asks, as she pauses outside a two and a half story building and motions to offer him a seat on the front step. It’s a lovely afternoon with warm sun and a cool breeze so she doesn’t feel like going inside just yet.
I guess there are times that I take for granted that everyone knows of the Creator and can find comfort in that, but not everyone does.
She thinks about that for a moment, then look over at Alendor, and seeing he still seems interested she keeps talking.
The Creator came and lived as a mortal enduring all that we do, and showing us the right way to live and even dying so that justice would be satisfied and the Creator could then show us mercy by forgiving our choice to do wrong.
Of course the Creator has complete power over life and death and is alive again now. I speak with the Creator and I know the Spirit within me is real.
She pauses to wave as another of her neighbors walks by.
Alendor sits down beside Lesawe as he listens to her. "It is the way of life where I grew up. The gods could give favor or wrath. Favor was earned in various ways, and with some gods, wrath could befall someone just for amusement. I am not sure that I ever considered them gods, but rather very powerful beings."
He listens to her story of the Creator becoming mortal and nods. "So the Creator 'bought', if you will, the right to give people the choice to return to him. The price being His taking responsibility for our wrong actions and dying to pay that price. You mentioned that His death was to satisfy justice. Justice only requires satisfaction if a wrong has been committed in the first place. That would imply that there was no wrong doings at some previous point."
Precisely. And there was a time when all was right. The Creator said “It is good” when all was first made, and it was good. People chose to turn their backs on the Creator and chose evil instead of good.
It is to pay for that wrong that the Creator came in the form of the created and took the penalties meant for us so we can be friends and children of our God, of our Creator. she says with a smile.
When he spoke of the gods where he comes from she looks confused.
I have never understood how anyone could worship something that would harm them for amusement.
In response to her comment concerning the gods he looks at her matter of factually. "Nor could I. Some do so out of fear, hoping that the deity will favor them enough to spare them and their families. Others do so to gain the god's favor and call misfortune upon others. Those kind of people tend to become priests of a sort."
Alendor listens to what Lesawe tells him of the Creator very carefully. He nods his head to acknowledge that he understood what she said. He sits for a moment in silence. She had given him much to think about. "So, this One that created us wishes for us to be His friends and children once again? Everyone?" Alendor knew that a few gods that actually cared about people had taken certain mortals under their wing and 'adopted' them in a way. This gave the mortals immortality and great power, enough that a few had managed to become gods themselves eventually. But a God that cared about everyone equally? That just didn't make a lot of sense to Alendor, mostly because he had never heard of such a thing.
Yes, everyone. she says with absolute certainty and confidence.
Alendor doesn't say anything for a moment. This is a lot to think about.
"What about people from other planes? Does He care for them too?"
She considers the question, but it only takes her a few seconds to find the answer: Yes, people from all planes. I can't see the Creator refusing someone based on geography.
The look on his face could be called a glimpse of curious hope."Then it seems that your Creator is truly a God who possesses unconditional love. It is difficult for me to even imagine such a thing. Let alone that the Creator would love beings that he did not create."
Would you like to speak to the Creator? You can, you know. Of course at first praying feels kind of like you’re just talking to yourself, or for me it did. Just say the words out loud, or think them in your mind. The Creator knows all and will know that you are speaking.
The response isn’t audible, usually anyhow, but more of something where you know with your mind and in your soul that you have been heard.
A troubled frown comes to Alendor's face. He was familiar with prayer, he had been instructed how to pray as a child. That did not bother him. What bothered him was the thought of whether this God was real to him or not. And if he was, could he accept a necromancer? Normally they were known for their dark art and their unnatural workings with death. Gods, real or not, tended not to favor such people. Well, except those like the gods of chaos and death, but those had obvious excuses.
"I have prayed to those that were called gods in the past and been left with only emptiness. If what you say is true then I should feel something besides that." It should be pretty evident that what he just said is not what is bothering him.
It’s not always feeling. Feelings are unreliable. That is why I mentioned the mind first. You can know that the Creator hears, even if you do not feel like you are being heard… that can be hard to understand though, it is one of the times where faith comes in.
Even if at first I do not feel like I have been heard I know that I have been heard and later, looking back, I realize my prayer had been answered. It was not the answer I was looking for at the time, but it was the best answer, whether I knew it or not.
Though other times, there is a feeling, and a knowledge, of being held, like someone is protecting your very soul right when you need it most.
But it seems something else is bothering you also.
Alendor nods his understanding of what Lesawe is telling him. And then is caught by her question. Though he's a good oriented necromancer, that is still a subject of contention for most people.
"It's just that....." He sighs some what heavily. "You know that I am a user of magic Les. I have had training as a wizard, but I have always been a necromancer. A user and manipulator of life and death, usually with evil and unnatural connotations. Beings in general, whether gods or mortals, tend to not approve of the 'dark arts' and methods of my kind. My clan once almost abandoned me when they learned of my chosen schooling in magic. It has only been through my actions and the support of my immediate family that I still belong to a clan of druids.
Who I am and what I have become shape every interaction that can possibly happen to and around me. Frankly my physical appearance does not make it any easier. People, especially Elves, would distrust me for that alone. When I enter a tavern some people fear what I can and might do to them when all I really want is a light drink. They don't bother to consider that I may not be inherently evil.
The souls of necromancers are said to be tainted, and that most gods will not even interact with them. I choose to be different just as I chose to be who I am. But I still do what I do, and that it not usually accepted by anyone."
Most people tend to frown on undead and those that control them. Not to mention that most of the things that necromancers are famous for tend to be thought of as evil.
There is a bit of tension and hesitancy in his voice as he spoke. Alendor is wondering how Lesawe will react. He has only opened up this much to a few people that he feels close enough to. He is also worried that she might reject him as well. He kind of assumes that Les knew of his abilities before now, but when the mind is under strain, such things don't always factor into the equation of emotion.
Lesawe is silent for some time, respectfully considering all he has just said.
As for using magic… she holds out her hands and a little mongoose appears there. It looks into her eyes, as though curious as to why it is here. This is magic of some sort…and all I can say is I hope my mother is wrong and it isn’t a curse and it isn’t wrong to use this ability. the mongoose disappears again just as quickly as it appeared.
As for the opinions of other people, she shakes her head in a way that says their opinions are of no concern. Something about the gesture says that other people's opinions are especially of no concern to her. The Creator does not act according to the whims and prejudices of people or the petty beings who call themselves gods. The Creator acts only according to truth, justice, mercy and all that is completely right.
She looks him right in the eyes, her next words are deeply important to her:
As for a tainted soul, we all have one of those. The Creator will not reject you. I doubt that your soul is tainted by anything more than the wrongdoing found in all people’s lives. The Creator only wants you to know the wonder of a personal relationship with the One who created us all, and to help you change so that all of your life is pure.
She then smiles a little, and goes back to thinking for a moment.
As for the necromancy itself… some things are wrong in and of themselves, regardless of whether or not a person tries to use them for good. I know some of the things most necromancers do fall under that category. I do not know if everything a necromancer does is inherently wrong.
I guess I am saying I do not know.
The most the Creator would ask is that you give it up, just as loving parents will ask their child to stop doing something that they know will hurt him. I needed to give up some of the things I was doing, and I may yet be led to give up more. she looks meaningfully at her empty hands. Then she looks back at him and her expression changes to a smile of pure joy, It is such a small price to pay for living forever in the presence of the One who treasures me above all else, and I know I would only be giving up something that would hurt me anyhow.
This may sound strange after speaking of giving things up, but there is such a freedom to be found, Alendor. It is hard to describe.
Her words, her tone, and most especially the look in her eyes as she smiles at him now should show she cares deeply about Alendor's wellbeing.
She took his hesitancy to mean he thinks the Creator might reject him. She assumes he knows she would not reject him, and her actions and tone convey that well.
Alendor is reassured by what she says and how she says it. He becomes visibly less tense. The look in her eyes speaks worlds to him. It lets him know that she cares about him and what happens to him.
Her words sink into Alendor and he thinks about what she has said. If this Creator of hers really was a God of love, then he would be more concerned with the person rather than what they did. That of course wouldn't mean that He approved of their actions all of the time. What kind of god would that make Him? Certainly not one that cared about what happened to people.
Lesawe was right. Necromancers were known for performing horrible deeds. Death was the least of what they were known for. The mere thought of a necromancer drove some to rage, while others feared for their very souls. Alendor opened his right hand that sat on his lap as one might to display a small treasure. A black flame appears there. He watches it for only a moment before he closes his hand and the flame disappears. He looks away from Les, his head slightly bowed as though in defeat.
He had done none of those things. True he had caused death, sometimes in larger than normal quantities. And sometimes, when it became necessary to do so, he killed without mercy to protect the weak. At least once he had caused someone to die a very painful and prolonged death. But he had not interfered with the man's soul. Alendor had not used his darker knowledge to even a fraction of his abilities when he had killed the man who had destroyed his home village and brought such suffering.
"Creator, if you are real, as Les says you are, then ease my burden and give me peace. Let me know that you care." The words were simple. Alendor had said them quitely, almost as if to himself. Barely a whisper. If Les had been paying especially close attention, she may have heard his short prayer. Alendor had struggled with much over the years of his life. To have someone to help him sort out some of his problems, who cared for him, and accepted him for who he was, that was enough for Alendor to try talking this God of Lesawe's. If things changed, all the better. But if not, well he would really be no worse off would he.
Alendor turns back to look at Les. "You have given me a lot to think about Les. Thank you." The tone of his voice is genuine as he speaks softly to her. His appreciation for what she has done should be readily apparent.
She sits silently, allowing him to think and to pray in his own time and in his own way. When she sees that he is speaking, and knows the words are meant for the Creator and not for her she bows her head slightly.
Her own lips are moving, but no sound comes. The form of the words shows it must be the language of her people, for common, even when silently spoken, looks different than this.
When he turns to address her again, she raises her head. Caring and hope show in her eyes. You are welcome.
She pauses a moment as two men walk past, slightly distracted by their presence, the toolbox one of them is carrying rattles loudly with every step.
“Somebody must have cast a healing spell,” the fellow carrying a ladder and some shingles observes as the man with the toolbox unwraps a rather noticeable white bandage from his left thumb.
Les then turns back to Alendor. Would you like to think a bit more over some salad? she reaches for her basket full of salad greens and tomatoes.
_________________ My posting has long gaps. Please don't wait for me. Keep movin & I'll catch up when I can.
Last edited by wingrae on Sun Aug 24, 2008 12:18 am; edited 2 times in total
Lesawe opens the front door of the building and holds the door open for Alendor to follow.
She then heads up the stairs until she reaches the shorter door with a 3 on it. She pulls a key from her pocket. The keyring has a bit of polished wood attached to.
The door swings open silently: well oiled hinges.
Welcome. she tells him as she heads over to the table and sets down the basket of produce. Have a seat. she invites with a hand wave to the kitchen chairs. _________________ My posting has long gaps. Please don't wait for me. Keep movin & I'll catch up when I can.
Alendor follows Lesawe in. As he follows her up the stairs he inspects the parts of the building that he can see. Though old he comes to the conclusion that it is a well kept and very nice little building.
He watches Les as she opens the door. He notes the wood on the keyring and the silence of the hinges.
Alendor walks into the room and looks around curiously. "Thank you.", he says when she motions toward the chairs. He continues to look around and admire the building for what it is as well as what has been done to make this room a nice place. _________________ Death is my calling....
Silence is my creed....
Lesawe washes her hands and starts washing the garden soil from the fresh vegetables. Then she quickly sets the cleaned veggies on a cutting board and caries it, a knife, and a large bowl over to the table.
Soon she is cutting up the veggies and placing them in the bowl. Would you like some more time just to think, or would a conversation on gardens be in order? Either is fine. she says to break the silence. _________________ My posting has long gaps. Please don't wait for me. Keep movin & I'll catch up when I can.
Unless you have more questions to ask… she leaves a moment for him to reply to that.
In response to his question she tells him, No, I do have window boxes, though they are a little neglected at the moment.
Out the window he was staring through moments before bits of some green plants can be seen near the windowpane. One looks like a dandelion, though they are edible so it might not be a weed.
She finishes cutting the veggies and places the cutting board and the knife next to the sink, then retrieves two spoons from a drawer to toss the salad with.
A small bottle, some olive oil, some salt and pepper and a mix of dried herbs in a bowl soon replace the cutting board on the table.
She begins mixing the ingredients into the small bottle. I prefer a light vinaigrette with salad. It is best if it sits for a while first so the flavors go through but I was not thinking ahead so I neglected to fix it this morning. _________________ My posting has long gaps. Please don't wait for me. Keep movin & I'll catch up when I can.
Alendor looks at the planters just outside the window. As Les walks to the sink, he says, "What do you usually grow in your boxes?" He makes no comment on weeds. What a weed was depended on who you where asking. To him they were all valuable plants.
He watches with interest as she mixes the ingredients. "That is alright. Sometimes lack of sitting will provide it with random bursts of flavor from the varying ingredients. Over all the effect can be quite satisfactory." _________________ Death is my calling....
Silence is my creed....
"Thank you very much Les. It looks wonderful." Alendor pauses before eating. He watches Les, unsure if she thanks the Creator before eating or not. Talk about asking an odd question. "Les, I was wondering if you normally thank the Creator for the food that He has given you? I know that some do." _________________ Death is my calling....
Silence is my creed....
It is a lovely tradition, and I have often wondered why my people did not incorporate it into our daily practice. We pray each time we wake and again just before we sleep so that all that we do is consecrated to our maker. We also pray whenever we feel led to or whenever we know that it will be important for us to draw on the Creator’s strength throughout the day.
Thanks is especially in order now, so shall we?
She bows her head.
Thank you for this food that you have given us, and this time that we are together. We give you praise. Amen.
When praying aloud she always keeps it short.
She looks up to see if Alendor has anything to add. _________________ My posting has long gaps. Please don't wait for me. Keep movin & I'll catch up when I can.
After she says 'Amen' he almost hesitantly says, "If you wish my friendship, Creator, please show me your ways." Alendor is not used to praying, much less to a deity that he has only recently heard of. It is awkward for him. So is the idea of being loyal to and following another deity.
He looks up then, and she may see mixed emotions in his eyes. Interest, worry, curiosity, confusion, and conflicting desire to both serve the Creator or continue as he has serving the Seldarine. Though he does not consider them to be true gods, he does see them as powerful beings that he has a bit of loyalty to and a bit of respect from.
He smiles a little. "Sorry, this is still a little odd for me." _________________ Death is my calling....
Silence is my creed....
Oh! Don’t apologize. It is good to ask, and the Creator will answer. We are told to ask, to seek and to knock so that what is good may be given, and revealed to us.
I wish I had a written record of the accounts of the Creator's works that I could give you, but my culture puts such an emphasis on our oral traditions that translating everything to common and writing it down is not a priority for most. It is even frowned on by some, but they are wrong to do so. What we know should be shared with all.
She thinks for a moment.
One of my cousins and a group of people he works with is working on a translation. I am certain he would give us a copy, we should pay them a visit sometime soon. _________________ My posting has long gaps. Please don't wait for me. Keep movin & I'll catch up when I can.
Alendor began to enjoy his salad. Les really had made up a good vinaigrette to go with the fresh vegetables.
He swallows sheepishly and says, "So I guess that my endless questions should continue then?" He grins playfully as he says so.
"So someone is translating it. That is probably a good thing. I would be most delighted to go with you to visit your cousin. It would also give me the chance to learn a bit about your people too." Not intended to change the subject, but a good cook should always be told that they did well. "By the way, what was that last minute herb that you added to the vinaigrette? It came out fabulously." _________________ Death is my calling....
Silence is my creed....
She smiles in return Yes. The questions should indeed be endless. she is only half-teasing.
You would love it. Stunning woodlands, so much plant and animal life. Songs and dance, so many traditions... and everyone speaks at least two languages with a great many of us speaking more than that. sounds like she can't wait to show him.
Then he compliments the food. Thank you. she looks down at her plate, flattered that he likes it Uh... to be honest, I forgot the name. My neighbor gave me some from her little herb garden. I just knew it would go well. _________________ My posting has long gaps. Please don't wait for me. Keep movin & I'll catch up when I can.
He chuckles a little at the 'endless questions' remark.
"Your welcome. It is the knowledge of taste, not what you call it, that matters most." He smiles at her.
Her eagerness is apparent, and it makes him smile even more. Alendor wonders briefly if Lesawe knows that he was raised as a Druid. "Sounds like my home." He sighs. "It must be a wonderful place. Did you grow up there?" _________________ Death is my calling....
Silence is my creed....
A pained look crosses his eyes for a moment. And his smile dims a little. "No, unfortunately my home is quite a way away from here. Well I suppose that that is relative of course, what with planar portals and Town being a nexus and all." He has a contemplative look on his face before he smiles again, remembering. "I have traveled and lived in many places of my world. But my homeland is truly where my heart was. I was raised in a vast forest that is on the south easter border of the Elven Kingdom. It is a beautiful area, and a wonderful place to grow up. My family are entirely Druids, with the exception of my mother's father. Over the millennia it has been the duty of our clan to protect both our border and the forest.
Not all of our kingdom is forest. There are rivers, mountains, plains, and valleys. But much of the region is dominated by one form of forest or another. The forests of my homeland were almost always lush and full of life. There are creatures there that could not be seen anywhere else. I grew up with my family and nature all around me. I remember spending many a day walking through the deep forest just to admire the beauty and splendor that could be found there. From the largest trees to the smallest insects, all of it was amazing. Every creature and plant had a purpose for being and it fit perfectly with all of the rest of nature around it." He pauses briefly to take a bite of salad as he remembers his home and his people. _________________ Death is my calling....
Silence is my creed....
It must have been so hard to leave that behind. The woods sound much older and larger than the forest my people live in.
She pauses for a moment, trying to gauge if he would prefer to drop the subject as it makes him homesick or if he would like to talk more about this lovely place he lived. _________________ My posting has long gaps. Please don't wait for me. Keep movin & I'll catch up when I can.
He winces a little as he swallows. He smiles sort of grimly/sadly. "When I traveled it was with the knowledge that I would return, could return, when I wanted to. Even when I traveled to the depths of the Dwarven mines, I could have returned home with a spell. But my entrance to Town is different. I did not come here intentionally. This place is unknown in my world." He pauses, just for a second, as he remembers the day he arrived here. "I had been trying to put an end to the alarming amount of undead that had been raised to torment the living. In my search I found that almost all of the races had been effected. Eventually I began to narrow down the sources of negative energy. Hoping that I could dispel one and thus weaken the rest, I entered a cave where the energy was strong. I encountered numerous undead there. But I failed to realize their power. As I sought to end one of them, a hidden lich created the portal that brought me here. He left it open only long enough for me to realize what had happened, then he closed it abruptly to his cackling laughter." Alendor shakes his head as if to clear away bad memories. "I found out later that the problem was caused by Atropus. I was pleased to hear that he had been dealt with."
He then looks Les directly in the eye. "To this day I have not found a way back. But recently I have come to accept my residence here. I will always miss my home and my family and master, but I have made true friends here. And the longer I am here, the less I search for a way back." The tone of his voice and look of caring in his eyes as he says the last sentence should convey more than just the words that he said. "Perhaps one day I will find it. Then I can return home, even if just for a visit now and again."
"But I am rambling on. I saw the curiosity in your eyes. The forests and my people are indeed ancient. What other questions can I answer for you?" He smiles happily. Just talking with Les makes him happier. He takes another bite of his salad as he waits for her to respond. _________________ Death is my calling....
Silence is my creed....
She listens closely, her eyes filled with emotion as he describes how he was suddenly thrown into this plane and unable to return.
You fought bravely. The undead attacks did terrible things to many worlds. she sighs a little, seems she saw some of those terrible things firsthand.
As he describes growing to accept life in Town she catches his tone and smiles softly.
I'm sure there will be a way back, it is the nature of this nexus. Portals to all places open and close constantly. When we do find a way, could I come see your home? _________________ My posting has long gaps. Please don't wait for me. Keep movin & I'll catch up when I can.
"I did what I could, what I knew how to do. I saw what they did to my world before I came here. I shudder to think what happened else where, especially to the less fortunate." He looks out the window again and hopes that someone was able to help the people that lived in this section of town. He fears that they may have been hit very hard, much more so since Atropus was close by.
Alendor looks back at Les when she talks about portals. "Yes, of course," he says in a matter of fact tone. He smiles happily at the idea. "It would be a pleasure to show it to you." _________________ Death is my calling....
Silence is my creed....
That is all anyone can do, just what they can. That is how this Town survives, people do what they can and in the end it is enough. You will soon find threats like Atropus are a near constant here. she speaks like this is simply a fact of life in the town, like the price of a loaf of bread.
She perks up a good bit when he mentions traveling to his world. Then we have two journeys planned, one to my homeland and one to yours. she is smiling widely at that thought.
Looking out the window it seems that if the undead attacks did harm this section of town the people are resilient and have put things back together quickly.
She turns more attention to eating her salad.
Those would be long-term plans, do you have any plans for this afternoon?
The sun was almost at noon when they met in the streets, it is now a ways further west in the sky. _________________ My posting has long gaps. Please don't wait for me. Keep movin & I'll catch up when I can.
"No. I do not have any pressing plans for this afternoon. I hadn't really decided what to do yet. I have just been enjoying your company and the salad you made." Said salad is half eaten already. Would probably be gone by now if he hadn't been talking so much. _________________ Death is my calling....
Silence is my creed....
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