Author Topic: Reflection  (Read 718 times)

FlutterlyPeach

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Reflection
« on: November 02, 2018, 10:33:20 PM »
 A bright full moon casted oddly distorted rays of glimmering light through the lush canopy above. Arlee breathed in deep the crisp autumn air which carried her new hard earned scent. The aroma of woodsy herbs, spices and a rich mossy undertone mixed with a trace of worn leathers.  She took quite tedious care to keep  from perspiring or enriching her scent by pausing often . She recently learned there were horrors within a keen sense of smell that might become aware of her presence if she did not. The recollection of that lesson stirred her internally and a twitch of her lips threatened to pull into a grin. Best she dismiss those thoughts lest her efforts be in vain.

The gleam of fireflies twinkling in her peripherals brought her some false sense of comfort . This wood was strangely beautiful to her. She gazed down into blackened by night waters and startled at quite the unexpected sight. She could not anticipate such a clear humanoid form as she was almost certain she was alone. The waters must certainly be magical somehow, just as she read from a journal moments ago. Because, even the moon was not bright enough through the trees on the glassy black waters to afford such a clear image as what was beneath her.

Peering right back at Arlee with those ever so curious wide and pale blue eyes framed with a concealing silvery mask intended to hide expression yet it somehow mysteriously flattered the beauty of a woman strangely unrecognizable to herself. Her pouty full lips parted ever so slightly from her delicate jaw slackened in surprise.

 How she has changed over a mere month from fearing seemingly everything she learned of in this strange realm and its nightly  and even sometimes daily horrors, terrified to go anywhere alone.  To now prowling about fulfilling her insatiable curiosities, of seeing what is around the next corner, unraveling one mystery at a time to discover more. She had been guided into coping with her fears by turning them to thrills with each encounter she survives.

Still with no real goals ore motivations beyond collecting herbs to sell for a decent living. No direction she often turns to others for guidance, knowing her lot in life as the kid sister to everyone. Honing her skills to keep doors open physically and metaphorically.

 People came and went with maybe three or so who have had lasting impact and cultivating her into this reflection before her. One of them, in particulars absence weighing unexpectedly on her heart this moment a deep unsettling gloom, a sorrow drawing that mourning heart into the murky blackness, swallowing her as it did her image. Was she moving? She didn't feel herself moving yet something about her stone colored cloak swathed image seemed to be sinking.

A trickling warmth  oozed down her arm tickling her palm and gliding down her pale fingertips drew her attention. A little distracting from her thoughts of loneliness and despair, a mild sting from a raking wound on her arm from a plant she to often found herself wrestling with for its blossoms. She merely watched for a moment then to late was oddly alarmed as her blood succumbed to gravity from her fingertips to ripple her reflection below. The way it barely  dissoluted into the reputed magical waters disconcerted her enough to send her backpedaling and pry her eyes from the drowning haunting woman before her.

 When her back meets the bark of a towering expansive tree behind her she realizes how exhausted she really was. Drained even, she lets herself rest against the sturdy trunk reveling that it was not a sinking watery drowning sensation that she strangely somehow expected. Nearly drifting into a reverie a wooden creaking sound catches her ear. Not unlike branches on a windy night yet there was no breeze...

In a wide eyed moment her trained lithe body  was reflexively in action carting her into a graceful roll narrowly escaping a thick clawlike limb descending to where her breast once was..

 "Time to go!" squeaked out as her thoughts escaped her lips. Conveniently a command phrase for an item that cloaked her from any on-lookers sight and not but silence was left in her wake..

Her herbal bounty slowing her tread decides for her.. better go sell these herbs. She cannot help but wonder as she prowls her way back to something resembling civilization "Is there nobody of like mind to share and enjoy this with?"  The people she came to know seemed so driven by their own goals and aspirations  to simply live in the moment with her.. and share in her thrills. Many acquaintances yet she often found herself quite lonely.


FlutterlyPeach

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Re: Reflection
« Reply #1 on: November 08, 2018, 08:06:28 PM »


Erevan Ilesere is the roguish elven deity of transformation, change and mischief. A karmic trickster on a grand scale, The Trickster is not what other races might imagine: his actions often play out over a long period of time, and he is a patron of elven comedy.Erevan the Changeling is also an admirer of adventure, discovery and spending long-time hooking onto a single curiosity and following the thread to its end. His home in Arvandor lies near one of Yggdrasil’s roots, enabling him to quickly stride across the planes in search of new adventure. Erevan Ilesere has a close friendship with Dugmaren Brightmantle and the draconic god Hlal; the three are known to crusade into the most mysterious and dangerous parts of the Planes and get into plenty of trouble en route. He also maintains personal ties with the Seelie Court and has fey worshipers.

The Trickster, the Chameleon, the Green Changeling, the Evershifting Shapechanger, the Fey Jester, the Jack of the Seelie Court are his most common names.
His word is something Arlee keeps to heart and mind always as follows:
Change and excitement are the spice of life. Live on the edge, unbound by the conventions of society in a spirit of constant self-reinvention. Puncture the self-righteousness, sanctimony, and pretension that pervades orderly society with mischievous pranks that both amuse and enlighten Inspire laughter and happiness, giddy silliness, and welcome release from care so that the routine of day-to-day existence does not become worn so deep that it grinds all the joy from life. Celebrate the spontaneous, and practice random acts of helpfulness.
Despite his fickle nature, Erevan is fiercely devoted to the Seldarine, and so is Arlee fiercely devoted to the protection and support of elven-kind in this manner.
Erevan’s boon companion is Aasterinian, an aspect of the draconic deity Hlal. Erevan and Aasterinian are almost never separated and their legendary adventures inspire younger elves (including a certain half-elf :Aspen) who dream of emulating the mythic duo’s daring exploits.
Erevan can change his appearance at will.~ Arlee cannot help but have a soft spot for druids and shifters alike and favors magical items granting the ability to change shape. There have been no shortage of such companions in her time.

Arlee is by no means a cleric, but her uncle was. As his twin sister, her mother passed on at childbirth he assumed the duties of raising Arlee and guiding her in her elven heritage which she favored.. despite her father being human and she was not quite as accepted amongst her peers. Little Lady Aspen fell in love with Erevan Ilesere and kept her uncles teachings dear to heart all her life.
The church of Erevan lacks any sort of hierarchy, for worship is not permitted at the same location twice and no cleric can be bothered to coordinate the clergy. Clerics of Erevan are wild, mischievous, independent, and unpredictable, playing tricks on others for the sheer joy of it. They oppose settled interests of all sorts and delight in upsetting both the rule of law and powerful people and in generally creating mayhem. The have little in the way of formal duties, and minister to the faithful primarily through example and instruction in the skills required of mischievous rogues.
Clerics of Erevan pray for their spells at midnight, when darkness covers their mischief. Followers of Erevan gather monthly for a Midnight Gambol, which is held in a sylvan glade beneath the light of the full moon. The exact location of each Midnight Gambol is a secret that is passed among the faithful by word of mouth in the days leading up to the event. Anyone who manages to discover the festivities through their own ingenuity is welcome to participate. Erevan’s followers are often joined in their revels by mischief-loving creatures such as sprites. Each Midnight Gambol includes the sacrifice of beautiful objects (most of which are borrowed), dancing, wine-drinking, tale-telling, and endless prank-playing. Many clerics multiclass as rogues or sorcerers.
It was one such celebration, also her coming of age, a Midnight Gambol when she was frolickingly, playing when the strange mist permeated the woods. Only to wake the next morn at the vibrant Vistani camp in Barovia.

When her mother passed on, left for her was a journal the most recent entries her mothers. By the writings one can gather she anticipated not witnessing Arlee grow  it was bittersweet a telling of wonderful stories the likes of which included times she and her brother would trade places she would have to conceal her hair when acting as her brother and her brother would often darken his feathery white tresses with coal to appear as his ebon haired twin. Some stories would be handed down tales of pranks through the years as elven comedy tended to spanned a lengthy time for perfect execution. She was a sorceress of no small talent, the lady of house Aspen and well liked.
While no formal military orders are associated with Erevan's church, countless bands and guilds of elven and half- elven rogues have been founded in honor of the Trickster. A notable example is the Knaves of the Missing Page, a fellowship of elven spellfilchers (mage/thieves) based in the Vale of Evereska but active throughout Faerun. Knaves specialize in the recovery of elven magical artifacts, spell scrolls, and spell tomes that have been acquired by other races, particularly humans. Her mother was one such Knave and kept avid detail of her duties and feelings of them in her journal. A path set for Arlee she would take from and make her own.. as she would land so far away from home and probably never get to step into her mothers shoes amongst the fellowship.
« Last Edit: November 18, 2019, 12:04:28 AM by FlutterlyPeach »