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For Want of Rest


Valannor
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[!] This letter is only available to the Order of the Golden Lion, and those with access to the Keep of Sunbreak, or the Seeker’s Ark. Do not metagame its contents.

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Spoiler

 

 

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14th of Snow's Maiden, Year 57 of the Second Age

 

I find myself writing this letter far from home; beyond the sunlit towers of our sanctuary fortress, and away from the warm hearth of the common room. Do not fret, for though I am of ill health and bereaved of a limb, I am… relatively safe. And if it is a worry, this letter was not written under duress, for my captors deemed fit to let me leave without much in the way of harm, save for the aforementioned. I suppose I am lucky, given the circumstances, though I cannot help but feel… almost cowardly, I would put it- that I survive, when many have not. Alas, the dice have fallen in this way; and it would be a disgrace not to continue on with gratitude for every breath that yet enters my lungs. I would imagine there's a deal of confusion surrounding my abduction, and there is little to it; I was on a routine patrol in the Grove, and was taken during a raid by the Nephilim. I had attempted an escape, but outnumbered… eight to one, last I recall, if not nine, my flight was cut short in swift order. During my capture, I was treated with relative civility, as much as could be expected of the Dragonkin - A dark room which radiated an uncomfortable, molten heat. Talks of philosophy, of Light and Fire, of the world and our place within it… a fiery severance of my sword hand followed by forceful attachment of an arcane prosthetic, and a departure enforced by voidal heresy. Compared to the fate a Herald had wished for me, what I received was a pittance - something I am thankful for, as death is not what any of us should consciously wish for. 

 

It is strange, in many ways. Though I write of this in part because such was one of the terms for my release, I find it sharpens my mind to put pen to paper and look back on my talk with their so-called immortal agent - a prince among dragons, if I am to take their words at face value. We spoke at length about our places upon the chessboard, and though we found ourselves painted both in black and white, we also found understanding. The mission of the Nephilim is, in some ways, similar to what we fight for; a world of peace, where mortal kind may exist freely and in relative comfort and safety. Though, with that said, we found our differences to manifest in methodology and ideology - the path of the dragon, and the path of sunlight, could not be more different. I would liken it to the divergent forces of Order and Chaos; Chaos represents freedom and change, to be unbound by the conventional and to alter the world to one's whims. Order, on the contrary, is the rigid structure of the world - uncompromising, slow to change, though offering security from alteration both bad and good. One is in flux, the other stable. Incompatible fundamentally at the cores of their ideologies. What I found most curious was, despite their utilization of magi, the distaste that the Titan, and his Nephilim, hold for the Void - that which claws at the edges of reality, and what manifests the taint of the Fallen City. They claim to wish its ultimate eradication, and it is a sentiment I find myself agreeing with… much to my chagrin, though my wroth towards the magus' ilk is born from a slight decades ago. Because of magi, four times have I been deprived of my limbs, and forced to utilize unfeeling prosthetics of steel and magicks both hallowed and blasphemous, my body slowly becoming a patchwork of faux limbs and prosthetics from injuries sustained. It was for this reason that, upon my arrival home, I sawed and hacked the tainted simulacra from my wrist. My body, my temple, is my own, and I refuse for anyone else to hold power over it any longer, even if it cripples me to do so. I will recover in due time; but the state of my mind is a far different story. 

 

I feel myself slipping away. Months pass like days, years like weeks. The sound of a sword being loosed from its scabbard reaches my ears, and I am sent into the throes of primal instincts, compelled to fight or flee, to assess the situation and those around me. I close my eyes and feel the warmth of the sapphire ember, and though comforted, I still recall the fires set to the Elvenesse, of the frenzied charge through the city to rout the attackers as best we could. Black and white melt into gray, and I see damnation in those I scarcely even know the crimes of… I feel the Light of Order, and how its radiance shines upon me oh so sweetly, that the effluvient divinity soon eclipses mortal rationale, and I feel my fingers tightening about the shaft of the lance as Hilan's once had - and every day, I fear what would become of me if I were to embrace Order, and Order alone. It is hard to remember what I fight for, some days, though I am reminded by kith and kin enough that I am still somewhat whole. I have given up much for the Light, and in my pursuit of the Sunlit Path, I am afraid that the person I used to be, for better or for worse, is long since gone. She died in the caverns of the Rimeveld, buried under a mountain of ice and snow and in the butchered carcass of a people genocided in a desperate war for survival. She died as her bloodline diminished, and as she arrived home to butchered carcasses scattered about for her to behold with widened eyes and a lake of tears. Who Tarathiel was, is not the woman I am today… and I am left uncertain of my merit, my virtue, and my sanctity. It is easy to claim that strength is to show no weakness, for indeed, such has become the perception. That virtue is to never sin at all. Bravery is to never feel fear.

 

I have found nothing further from the truth. 

 

I cannot hide behind a facade of bravado and stoicism much longer. I have been afraid for my life, I am afraid of death, and the fate that awaits me upon my passing. I have sinned, more than I would wish to admit, and will forever seek atonement for. And now? Right now, I feel weak. My body fails me, my mind drifts as fireworks usher in memories of cannonfire, and I am left bereaved of rest and comfort on sleepless nights. But I think it is far better, in truth, to know one's weakness, and to overcome it before it consumes you. Do not fear leaning upon your brother's shoulder, or asking one of our sisters for the hand of aid. We become stronger together, for we are a family, bound in faith and fealty beneath the exalted Sun. And yet… I do not think I will be returning home. Not for a small while. 

 

I will be departing the walls of the fortress on both pilgrimage and reprieve from my duties. I am a woman of steel, and though steel is hard and strong, it bends and breaks under stress and wear. I require time to heal, to mend the damage done to flesh and soul that is not so soon to fade under the light of the Sun. I wish to live, at least for a small time, for something other than our eternal crusade - for in truth, ever since our move to the mountains, I have known nothing but. There is precious little warmth in my heart, the hearth of the soul dwindling to an ember cradled in ashes. I want to find a reason to open my eyes and bask in the warmth of a rising sun, to run my fingers through the rivers of grass and breathe the fresh air of an autumnal breeze. I want to be better than what I have become. In the time of my absence, I will still make efforts to advance our cause, and offer teaching to those who seek it - but I leave the grand crusade in the hands of you, my kindred, my family. I entrust the duties and burdens shouldered by myself to my fellow Seekers for the time being, as I recover my strength. Upon my return, it is likely that I will be far more different than what many of you will have remembered; as likely as it is that nothing will have changed at all. I do not yet know where this road will take me, for though it is untrodden and uncharted, it is the path I feel necessary to take for me to properly return to my duties, and assume my mantle and sobriquet once more. 

 

If there is one thing I can beg of you, kindred, it is the request that Hilan made of us upon Mount Celestial. Do not let the sun set. Grow and flourish, and take our banner further than it has e'er gone before. I will return anon, and if my presence should be required in the interim, I may be reached by way of my beloved crow Sul, who has been left in the care of Rhaelanthur - do not bother searching for me by other means, for you will not find me. I've seen to that. Honor the mercy our enemy had shown to me, should you capture one of theirs in my absence. If nothing else, it is an investment of the future, to minimize needless bloodshed on both sides of the coin. 

 

Your friend, mentor, and sister,

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Spoiler

Just a chunky letter explaining my character's absence after recent events. The roleplay with Jentos and the Azdrazi was some of the most enjoyable and engaging I've had in recent times, and I thought it fitting that, rather than my persona immediately launching back into the fray, that the continued endurance of trauma and mental unrest lead to her taking a momentary step back, and OOCly, in honor of the grace shown by the Nephilim community. This isn't a PK or shelving post, but merely the realization that my persona has had that her current course is unsustainable. Even Frodo needed to heal, eventually. 

 

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She'll be back in due time, likely far better than she left. She'll still be around, if you can find her. 

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An opportunistic skinwalker begins his latest game of impersonation. Pity, he thought, the white witch was merciful

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A dwarf looks over the forts walls in the general direction the chapter master went (she thinks) and rests her fist over her heart and mutters a prayer to the hearth mother for her teacher and friend

((TAKE ALL THE TIME YOU NEED OFF OF TARA ALTY!!!))

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The Lion waved the woman off on her way, comfortable knowing that he had a sure enough knowledge of the world around him that the dear woman's absence would not lead to his stagnation. The Lion was a creature of it's own volition, after all.

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Salem stepped into the Keep of Sunbreak, pacing into the great hall. He would pause, pulling the letter he found pinned to the wall free. As he read, he would find himself nodding along. Carefully, he would return the letter to its place, smiling, "Those of us who devote our lives inevitably find ourselves needing to roam. May your travels glow with the guidance of the Lord of Sunlight, Sister."

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The lone Highlander paces into the empty Keep, his worn gaze slowly looking over the pinned letter, "Don' do anyt'ing stupid out t'ere, remember ich am t'e family idiot." He jest to himself as he moves to the upper floors, returning to his room.

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Off in the snow fields of the north, a lone Paladin wanders. She had never been a social being, having few friends even in her youth. The decades, just over a century's worth, had been unable to change that. The absence of her husband had caused her anti-social behaviors to worsen, yet still she found herself returning to Elysium on occasion, still found her thoughts wandering to what had become of her adoptive mother. Distant cousins by blood and having had many disagreements over morality among other things, she still held some reverence for the elfess who had taken her in all those years ago in Haense.

 

Her exhales came as an icy cloud as the blonde, scarred paladin wandered across the tundra. 

 

"Maybe it would have been better for you to stay a tavernkeep. Boring, ti, but safer, easier. You weren't born to handle the pain, both physical and mental that comes with the horrors we've seen and experienced over the years..." 

 

Her face contorts in a grimace as the bitter cold causes mangled, long healed dragon-fire burns to ache anew along her shoulder. Briefly, her mind wanders to the day Tarathiel had been dragged into the Haense hospital, to when she had helped remove the elfess' arm after the Wick's betrayal. Finally finding the cave she had sought, Aobh signs the Lorraine and begins preparing a place to rest, a shaggy, foul tempered dog trotting in a few paces after her, flopping down across her lap at the end of the night.

 

"But this is your path now, and I will light candles and pray for you, that you do not stray from it after one meeting with deceivers." 

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