Selandra Eriksdotter - Musings of a Knight
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Recent Events
I arrived with little fanfare the other evening, in this city that calls itself “The Jewel of the Icelace”. Its name is Peltarch, and it lies east of the Giantspires, and northwest of a little trading hamlet known as Jiyyd. It’s small by city standards, but it’s the largest settlement in the land of Narfell. It is here that I will make my home, until I am called back to Suzail or death takes me to my lord Tyr.
Hopefully, I will get used to the smell. The city really needs to do something about their sewer system.
Upon my arrival, I immediately began to question the locals regarding the location of Sir Kanen Hightower, the Knight of Helm who penned the introduction, and the object of much discussion in cousin Robyn’s letters. Apparently, there is a collection of knights of various faiths known as The Order of the Divine Shield, and they are in need of people to defend the common good. I hope this order has survived the past 20 years, and I am not too late to join their cause.
I also search for one named Zyphlin, also mentioned in Robyn’s letters. Most of my inquiries are met with knowing smiles, laughter, and “good luck finding him” expressions, so it’s obvious he is well known, at least by reputation.
After spending an evening at a place called the Dancing Mermaid, I ran into a delightful woman named Natanya. She is also a knight of my lord, and somehow I can’t help but think of our encounter as divine providence. She showed me around the temple of Tyr, and I gathered her experience from the ease at which she knew her way around, her bearing and carriage. Now I have a room at the Temple, a place to practice and recover, and duties to attend to that bring me closer to my lord. Natanya was even kind enough to lend me enough gold to purchase some chainmail, so that I may begin by help quelling the kobold disturbances west of the city. I purchased a glaive and other accoutrements with what little gold I brought with me.
Since then, I’ve ventured three times into the Western Foothills. The first, was to assess the danger. After dispatching several, I became injured when one of the better trained ones found it’s mark underneath my shirt, and I retreated to the safety of the walls.
The second, was with small woman named Andrea. A priestess of Torm, she was also of good character and delightful to be with. Together we were able to drive the kobolds back to their dens, and venture back to the city with only minor injury.
The last incident however, almost saw me attend my journey to Tyr prematurely. I was foolish, and misjudged my opponent and my own despicable condition. The chirurgeons and priests indicated that while my injury is permanent and beyond their healing, I may be able to overcome most of it with conditioning and training. Until then however, I must take better care in guarding my defense, for it is but a shadow of its former self. If I cannot overcome this debilitation, then I will be forced to find other duties to serve my lord.
Mr. Shannon
I ran into an interesting person prior to my third excursion into the foothills by the name of Shannon. He gave me no surname, so I’ve taken to calling him “Mr. Shannon”. Mr. Shannon is also a priest of Torm, but it’s painfully obvious his duties weigh heavily on him.
I have met all manner of peoples in my travels, and I have often discovered that the “dark brooding” sorts are quietly begging for attention. They want someone to try to break their armor of cynicism and darkness. It’s almost a challenge. I obliged him by making him smirk and smile.
The scales of justice balanced themselves afterward, when I fell to a well placed shot from one of the kobolds. I could not hit him to save my life (literally), and retreated to the guards by the gate, but before I could reach them I fell after a particularly hard blow. The guards called for aid to stem my bleeding, and Mr. Shannon arrived in due time.
Perhaps the gift of a smile is valued well against a blessing.
Righteous Fury
It’s common opinion that knights are stuffy, self-righteous folk. There are those that believe we get up in the morning, wash our hair, buff our armor, and try to out best to represent our faith while righteously smiting our enemies until they are mere blood stains on the field of battle….That we somehow remain untouched by this, and ride our horses or march back into town unblemished by the course of battle.
I’m here to tell you, it’s mostly bullshit.
Much of what the people see are the shields of discipline and faith with which we surround ourselves. Underneath we’re just like everyone else, each with our own little quirks, dreams and desires. We’ve just been trained to death to not to punch someone in the face when every fiber in our being screams to.
This brings me to two things. The first is my Uthgardt heritage.
My mother was born in the High Forest, in the Uthgardt tribe of the Griffon. In their culture, might makes right. The chieftan is only around long enough until someone can challenge and take his place, and the warriors fight with unrelenting fury so great, that they often ignore loss of limb. My father on the other hand was a profession soldier, an engineer turned trader who was skilled at building catapults and tunneling under walls. My father is an average sized man, but has surprised men half again his size because years of tunneling and building machines have left him with strength that belies his size. He earned the right to wed my mother in an Uthgardt duel, and even later after years of combat training, I was never able to best him.
But I am of both their blood. Half the blood in me tells me to analyze the situation, find a solution, and work the problem out. The other half screams to me to beat the problem into a bloody pulp until it goes away.
When I was 10, my neighbor Jered was 13. He was a big farm boy that teased me now and then. Most of it was harmless kid stuff, but one day he went just a bit too far, and my Uthgardt blood decided he was a problem.
I got the snot beat out of me. I was quite the mess.
That evening, when father, mother and I went to the neighbor’s to deal with this, Jered answered the door. He had a split lip and a broken nose. It was about all I had managed. The fight was pretty one sided after that.
However, I recall mother looking down at me, and seeing incredible pride in her eyes. That I had managed to do that to a boy almost twice my weight somehow impressed her. She never said a word. That look was our little secret. The day she knew that the blood of her tribe was in me, was a day I will not forget.
But I fight it, all the time.
The second is chocolate. Woe will befall the man who takes my chocolate.
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Return
For better or worse, I have returned to this land called Narfell. My journey to visit my lineage, my mother’s people in the High Forest, was long and arduous. I could fill volumes with my escapades, my journeys and my dealings with the Uthgardt people. It took several years of my life, and shaped me in myriad ways. However, I will leave that for another time.
I’ve decided to settle in the little trading hamlet of Jiyyd. Other than the constant threat of annihilation from a nearby Orc tribe, it’s a quiet place. The Silver Valley lies just north, and Ormpur and N’Jast to the east. It sits along the long road trade route, and gets it’s fair share of news and caravans. All in all, not a bad place to take up temporary residence.
I’ve met several notable folks in the last few months here. One is Lucidious, an Elven arcanist who is the chancellor for a small community called Norwick that lies just north of the Dale. Another is Genzir, who is in charge of the local wizards’ enclave, and Raisa, the archdruid of the forest just south of Norwick. All were met with friendship, and appeared friendly in return.
Squire
It was inevitable I suppose. I finally realized how much I have lost when I was assigned as a Squire to a paladin of the Divine Shield named Natanya.
My Knighthood in the temple of Tyr in Suzail, and ultimately into it’s military arm seems so long ago. After Razmarrin struck me down and his curse laid upon me, I’ve had to learn to fight all over again. Truth be told I will never be the warrior I once was. The agility I possessed once is a distance memory, much like one of advanced years recounting his youth. My blows are careful and deliberate lest I lose my balance, and even clumsy attacks from my opponents find their mark.
Drake, a fellow soldier in service to Suzail said that I should focus on archery. Could not justice be administered from a distance? I employed the monastery attached to the Temple to teach me to stand, and relearned to use a bow, but I find myself drawn to the glaive again - That which I knew, that which I was famous for.
Foolish pride I suppose, yet I persevere. I will not strive to be as I once was. I will strive to be what I am today, only better.
Natanya is wise, and has great favor with Tyr, likely more than I ever had or will. As her squire I will listen to her council and do as instructed. Perhaps someday I will look upon the resurrection of my knighthood under her tutelage with the same pride I did so long ago.
Will
William, or Will as he asked me to call him has been my off and on companion for the last month. He is rather skilled with a bow, and is better trained than many of the soldiers I with whom I traveled. He is a gentleman in all respects, and generous to a fault.
He loaned to me a vast some of money to purchase a good longbow. I was extremely reluctant to put myself in anyone’s debt but being the gentleman he is I accepted. The longbow has a draw of 70 pounds at 28 inches, and is laminated with horn and three layers of wood. It’s a stunning bow, and is only missing a good arrow shelf to improve its accuracy. How could I resist?
But then he gave me a gift. A gift I could scarcely refuse. A new glaive. It’s well balanced, master worked with steel and hide. I have no doubt it will help me survive the rigors of combat.
At what price though, have I accepted these gifts?
If it weren’t for his good nature, I would wonder of his intentions. Yet I feel indebted to him, both for the gold and his generosity. It was more coin than I’ve ever had, even in my days as a knight in Suzail.
Perhaps it is his way of giving joy to someone else since he seems to find so little joy in the things around him. Perhaps the best gift I can give in return is simple friendship, and teach him to look at life with a little more light.
