Within the swirling Mist (IC) > Biographies

Aelfin Midhel - Of Blade and Bow

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Wannabe_Irish:
How long had it been? Months...

Did it really matter? No, it did not. Give or take a decade, this world would be the last he saw while alive. He'd come to accept this.

Yet, his mind always wandered to how much time had passed since arriving. He knew not why, it just happened.
As he sat in quiet reverie in a small solitary corner of Degannwy, his mind now raced through a blur of memories, passing before his eyes like an image projected on the surface of a still lake, with a dim view of Degannwy just beyond it.
Even like this, he could not count the days. He could only ever count the friends he'd made. The friends he'd lost.

Travel. He forced his mind to run over the memories of the travels he'd made. He had wandered away from Barovia, for some months as well, when he had gotten sick of losing those near to him.

Travel. No sense in dwelling on what is lost.

The travels had been... interesting... and equally horrible... He couldn't remember many details other than having to run and hide near constantly.
In the end, it seemed Barovia was not -that- bad, after all. In the end, he had wandered back...

Vindel, Millicente, Neithu, Ain'a, Trish, Sivius... People he had begun to care for... Their visages spun through his mind, all his memories to them coming

Vindel...  A human cherishing the last of his youth, brash, somwhat loudmouthed, but good hearted and high spirited... He somehow had the feeling he knew Vindel, and Vindel knew him, without ever exchanging much words. They had a synergy. Barely a glance was needed for the him to know what Vindel was thinking, and from his jokes and their combat, he could tell it worked both ways. As fine a comrade in arms as he could hope to find... Yet, so was Wesh.

Millicente... A young human girl, from some place named Paris. Fool girl believed there was only one god, and magic was the work of the devil... Why not only one hell, while she was at it?
Still, he could not help but feel close to her... for the shortest of times, even, she made him feel as Rade once had... He could have fallen for her. Idiocy.
Falling for a human that believed in only one god, that thought he was an angel... Falling for a human in this world? He could just as easily cut off her head.
He had learned Vindel loved her, some time later, though, and he'd taken a step back... Already was his relationship with both of them suffering. For the better.

Neithu and Ain'a... The crow and the sparrowhawk. He did not know why, but they did remind him of these two birds, whenever he was near them. They accepted his presence, were even friendly and tried to make him feel welcome, and while he did feel at ease near them, he felt forever the outsider.

Trish... His mind failed to wrap itself around her. She was always cheery, playful, and childish to a point. Always insisted he should wear different clothing, or smile more. She somehow always tried to brighten the world a bit, for himself and others. She failed, though, for him at least. There was something about her he could not explain. It felt as though she was forcing herself to be that cheery, which shattered the illusion for him.

Sivius... The warpriest... Straightforward, rough around the edges. No sugar coating. He may not always be the voice of reason, but he was enough to keep people from doing foolish things.
Despite his often gruff manner and his drinking habits, he enjoyed the man's company, much like he would have a brother or cousin.

Was this folly? Allowing himself to care again... It made him feel weak, too involved, fragile... Vulnerable.

His mind raced, through combat he'd survived, combat he'd died in, combat he imagined in order to rehearse. He was not invulnerable, not by a long shot, but there were many things out there that failed to lay a hand on him...

His mind spun again, and he saw other scenes of combat. Combat where he had remained perfectly untouched, but where he had failed to save a friend... The anger that gripped him, the incoherent fighting style that took over...

It was folly.

Words rang through his mind, words he had not heard in decades. The words were his own.

"I was born a sword, because that is what my gods needed me to be. I will remain forever sharp, so that Their will may be done."

Aelfin Midhel... Knight Brother of the Emerald Tear...

It meant so little, here... And yet, it still defined him...

Caring was folly...

Though oh so hard to resist.

Wannabe_Irish:
Another period of absence...

Barovia had changed, more than the last time, it seemed. Racial hatred had reached new heights, and still, there were more of the People around than he had witnessed in a long time.
No longer allowed to speak their tongue in public. Ridiculous. Yet, little choice but to obey, he was but one elf.

Apparently there were some of the People who still worked on improving relationships with Man. Fools. Let them reach out to hug these bastards if they wished, but they would be killed sooner than had they tried the same with a dhaerow. This was not Toril, not by a long shot. And not within ten elven generations would things improve.
Not his concern, his loyalty was to the race, not to the individuals, especially those who would throw their lives away.

He gave a faint sigh, quietly looking over Degannwy as he put aside his sword. Somehow, he felt alone. They were gone... Trish, Sivius, Vindel, Millicente, Ain'a... only Neithu had he seen since, and he was rather distant. Surely it was for the better, them caring for him or he caring for them could only have ended in tears.
No coercion. To care meant he would have broken at some point.
Wherever they had gone too, it likely was better for all of them that he was not there. He could not help but wonder what had happened, however.
Regno? He was told the Mad was finally destroyed. Perhaps they had been involved. Perhaps not.

He shook his head and allowed himself another sigh, getting up and gathering his gear as he headed out into the woods.

No matter.

Wannabe_Irish:
Something had changed. It was tearing him up inside.

For months he had lived alone, almost a year now, keeping his quiet vigil over this quiet forest, far away from any natives or outlanders.

Not long ago, however, a group of people had come to Degannwy... To celebrate, of all things.
This had piqued his curiosity. He could not resist going closer, to see what reason could possibly exist for such festivities.
To his surprise, as he stood there, he was invited. A complete stranger. Invited to join the ring around the fires. They offered their company. They offered their food. They asked him to dance.
A complete stranger... Without question, without suspicion. He was welcomed.

This brought a minor change to him... Hearts so young and open... They made his very soul cry out to obliterate his solitude.

He did not, however. He could not. In the end, he had no choice, however.

It was a birthday celebration. This revelation made all his desire to turn and leave fade away. To think one would actually celebrate the passing of a year in this cesspool of the planes.
He could not help himself as he joined in the well wishing. He could not help but to allow a small smile. He had even danced... or had tried, at least.
With every person he'd met, he could not have begun to imagine an evening as that. None were quite so carefree.

He should remember to get the girl a present, later.

Wannabe_Irish:
He was changing.

He could no longer deny it. He could no longer stop it.

He allowed himself to let go once, and now it was as a rock slide, caused by just a small stone thrown down a mountainside by some ignorant child. He had not wished for what was happening, but there was no stopping it, and it had frightened him to the core.

The birthday celebration had been the small stone. Finding the birthday girl a gift had been the second stone that started rolling. Going along with a group of adventurers, for no better reason than that it seemed interesting was the next. But the slide truly started with... her.

It had just been... a simple game of battlefield flirting. Nothing serious, it had simply amused him, it took some of the tension out of the atmosphere, but... it felt right.
After the battles were over, she had complimented him on his swordsmanship, and asked if he had ever considered taking on a pupil... In her own way... Stickwaving. Pft.
And so, he had brought her a wooden sword when next they met. She had accepted with the necessary skepticism and jibes.
They had been training for some time, now... But it had become more than training swordsmanship. Yes, this was still the larger part of their time together, but they tended more and more towards travels, exchanging stories of their past as well as legends and lore, or staying awake the better part of a night, simply exchanging barbs.

He had kissed her.

Not even Rade had ever gotten him to that point. Not a one had since he arrived here. He had been a fool. It had been a moment of weakness. Yet, he could not forget, could not deny that he enjoyed it. After that, it seemed to him the very foundations of who he was... who he had made himself to be... crumbled and collapsed. They had met only more often, and certainly a romance was growing. It was discomforting. In battle, he knew perfectly well what to do, how to move, what to say. This...

And still, he enjoyed it.

He had been gone for a few days, now, taking his time to consider all this. Yet, not a thought of putting a stop to this crossed his mind. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he needed this. He smiled more. He saw again the beauty in the natural world, even in a place such as this. He had begun praying again.
He knew one of them would be heartbroken in the coming years. In this world, either of them was likely to die in some secluded corner of the world, never to be seen again. Tomorrow, next week, next decade... yet... For once, this all seemed worth it. She had made it quite clear that she believed this was worth it.

And so, the rocks rolled on, what would come from it none could tell, but... at least the fear was slowly making way for peace of heart, and curiosity.

And if he did lose her, well... Perhaps that was what the Shou had truly meant with "letting go"...

Melisse.

Wannabe_Irish:
Faith.

Intangible. Confusing. Inspiring. Dangerous. Necessary.

She spoke to him of faith. She listened as he spoke of the gods he had followed in decades past. Who they are, what they ask of their disciples, what they meant to him and to his people. She listened to the mistakes he had made, in doubting them, or in doing what they teach their Children. She did not judge. She listened with obvious interest, to the lore of the deities he knew, and to his own troubles with faith. She did not judge.

He had all but abandoned faith since Rade's disappearance. It had seemed pointless then. If the Seldarine had any power, here, the elves would not suffer so.
It was childish... and perhaps even selfish... of him to think like that. Certainly, the Seldarine would not walk the surface of this world as they did in Faerūn, but holding to their ideals, alone, would have helped him more than his self imposed solitude.
It felt strange to once again discuss these things, espescially with a human. Even in Faerūn he had not met one that truly cared.
It did him well, however. It reminded him of the things he'd lost, but in a good way. It showed him how much he'd lost, simply because he gave up.It encouraged him to work harder in the future.

She spoke to him of faith. She had spoken to him of her life in Faerūn, yet that night... She had told him of one of the native gods.
He had listened, attentive, despite the questions running through his head. As she told him of sects, structures, duties and general behaviour among the faithful, he could not help but ask himself why she'd turn to some outsider god... Well, he knew why, he just could not imagine why this did not change as time since then passed.
He supposed the ideals of the deity spoke to her, which he could not deny entirely. Still, if it were him, he would have been reluctant to turn away from the Seldarine.
Then again... He supposed that was more a point of pride among the elves.
Yet, the way she spoke and asked him questions, he was beginning to get the feeling she was trying to convert him. And he was beginning to wonder if those around him would be better served in his doing so.

Who knows? Nothing is written in stone, and for his A'mael, he just might.

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