3. Robyn's Whispers

Robyn's Whispers


  • Train or Die

    I’ve given over my bow to Anelundil.

    My bow. The one my father designed. Its horn and dark wood laminate construction make it unique. I practice with it every day for at least an hour, and have since the times of Kanen Hightower. It is as much a part of me as my green eyes and ponytail.

    But it can’t be, at least for now.

    In wars, it is often the little unsung battles that shape the course of events. The soldier who defends the stairway to a tower just long enough for reinforcements to arrive. The scout who pick up a trail and informs the general of a troop’s location. The archer who wounds a leader, causing an attack to falter.

    Their names, like mine, will be forgotten. History will write the names of the leaders, the cities they represent, and the troops they command. The names of the individuals are lost in time.

    A tragedy will happen. I will know when it does. There will be a person that must be faced in single combat. I cannot fathom how it will shape the course of events, but I know it will. I must be there to face him.

    In order to win this battle, I must give up all that I am. I cannot be Robyn any more. Robyn the hunter, Robyn the archer, Robyn the woods women…She cannot be a part of me any longer. That woman cannot face him. To face him, I must live and breathe this sword of Tyr. It must become a part of me, as much as my bow ever did.

    …And I have so precious little time to do it.


  • Winning Means I Lose

    There was a tournament recently in Peltarch consisting of archery, fencing, and jousting. It all started innocently enough with an impromptu archery contest with a dwarf named “Gnarl” just prior to the tournament. I won some ale money from him, and though I felt guilty for doing it, I certainly could use the coin. He grumbled good-naturedly, and I think I may have made a friend.

    I won the archery tournament. Considering the class of adventurers I’ve seen in this time, I shouldn’t have expected to. Nonetheless I did, even before the tournament started. I rarely lose, and while I’m glad my overconfidence was justified, there will come a time when I cannot afford to be so full of myself.

    That time is now.

    Even before the fencing tournament started, I could feel the tightening around my thoughts. The sword wanted something from me, and I was powerless to resist. I could feel the invasive whispers in the back of my head. I fought them. I tried to think of something else. I told the damn thing to shut up, but before I knew it I had to challenge everyone. It became completely necessary to prove myself to someone else, though I knew not who at the time.

    And challenge everyone I did. I fought everyone I had a right to. I beat the priestess of Larue, the big half-orc that hangs around the commons, and even beat Raryldor. Vortelli’s instruction proved itself time and time again with each attack, parry, and riposte. Before I knew it, I was standing victorious at the fencing tournament too.

    “You fence well”, the tournament host said.

    He introduced himself as Anelundil. The name didn’t sound familiar, but the half-elf before me looked like someone I should know. We spoke in private, and soon the subject turned to Vortelli, Gwendolyn and the sword. He knew far more about this history of this blessed and cursed thing than anyone had a right to. Even me, and I own the damn thing. He even knew about the duels.

    He claimed to be the son of Vortelli and Gwendolyn…the one “they never had”. Considering what I know of Vortelli I first doubted his words, but he knew so much that I the doubts began to melt. Vortelli was very secretive about his relationship with Gwendolyn, even with me. Could they have had a son?

    “I’m here to teach you”, he said, “For the coming duel”

    The Duels. Not much scares me enough these days to turn my legs to jelly. I faced orcs big enough to move houses, demons, and all manner of critters big and small. Each one brings with them their own brand of fear. But the duels bring a different form a fear; one that has a righteous finality that only the gods provide.

    I talked to Talindra about the sword. With Daisy gone, she’s the only priestess of Tyr I trust. When the time comes, I’ll have to face my opponent alone. However, it will be nice to have someone standing behind me to pray for my soul.


  • The Aimless Archer

    I’ve been on several minor adventures. I’ve followed people in the wilderness while remaining out of sight, just to keep my skills up. I’ve met several good people, some of whom I might call friends some day.

    But by and large I am an aimless archer, with few duties and goals to call my own.

    I’ve traveled back and forth along the road between Peltarch and Norwick countless times, and encountered little more than the occasional traveler. With the exception of the Gnolls, the land here has been pacified. The Eastlanders that once occupied the pass are nowhere to be seen, and even the larger fauna have taken to the deep woods. In my explorations I even found the old Wolf Den, but no one was home. Perhaps they no longer have a purpose here.

    The chaos and crime in the city of Peltarch has reached proportions of which I have never seen. It’s as if the wild has gone out of the lands and been moved into the city. It’s become so distressing, and I lack the authority to do anything about it, that I’ve moved out of the Mermaid and setup camp in the woods outside of the city. I mentioned to one of the local magistrates my former position as inquisitor, but I did not press the issue. I have no desire to wear that mantle again.

    Even the sword has remained silent. There are no dreams of Lady Winters or Vortelli. I have not woken in strange places, nor has it whispered to me since I received it. Perhaps it’s waiting for me to gather my purpose and strength again, or perhaps it needs to waken from its slumber in the Temple.

    While I wait for purpose, several people seem to keep cropping up in my meanderings.

    Lady Talindra is a priestess of Tyr, and with Daisy’s absence I believe she will one day hold the key to the sword. I have traveled with her a few times. She’s mostly quiet until she has something important to say, and I appreciate that. I have not told her of the sword, and am hesitant to. I sometimes wonder why I even told Raryldor. I could easily see myself calling her friend, given time.

    Corwin is a member of Spellweaver, and while I never trust wizards, for the most part he seems bookish and harmless. He also strikes me as being rather innocent in a way I find hard to describe, perhaps due to his focus on his studies.

    And finally, the lady Val was able to enchant a belt for me, for which I happily traded the Norwick Crest ring. She called it the “Belt of the Gambit”, or something similar, and it offers some protection enchantments I’m sure I’ll find useful.

    I’m sure that all these people and others who I’ve met will make me feel welcome into this land again, but I can’t shake the feeling I really don’t belong here. I’m from a different, chaotic and more violent time in this land’s history, and my presence here has me confused and baffled.


  • The Girl, the Sword, and Everything

    The idealistic sixteen year old girl who received the blessed sword of Tyr is not the same one who wields it now. She is buried beneath layers of cynicism, pain, and regret. The sword doesn’t seem to care however. It wraps around my thoughts with a firmer grip, perhaps hoping that idealistic young teenager will be squeezed out into the world again.

    I told Raryldor about the sword. The sword didn’t seem to mind. It would have let me know with most painful repercussions if it did. The sword was crafted by an elf. I was taught the art of Elvish fencing. I speak Elven fluently. Even the cloak that shelters me from the rain is full of magical Elvish camouflage. Though I am quite human, my life has a healthy dose of Elvish influence.

    Of course the sword didn’t mind.

    During our conversation, Raryldor told me about a place called Oscura. I have healthy memories of Narfell from … well long ago, but I would certainly remember it from then, and I don’t. Raryldor described it as city with a corrupt government, churches of evil deities, slavery and corruption. I found it hard to fathom a place like this would exist underground for so long without being discovered during my time, but he pointed to a barge in the docks of Peltarch and said I could pay the ferryman when I was ready.

    I wasn’t ready, but I went regardless. Acting first and deciding later that it was a bad idea is the story of my life.

    Yes, Oscura exists. I was there. It’s a dark, foreboding fortress of a place set underground. I wandered through it getting a feel for the place, didn’t like what I saw and left. Not much to tell really.

    Raryldor told me he had a lot on his plate, and that he was looking for allies to help him with everything.
    “There is simply too much to do, and I can’t do it all alone”, he said. After asking, “Why me?”, he said it was because I looked trustworthy.

    Perhaps I should work on that. I don’t want to get involved in everything.


  • Lost in Familiar Places

    Like my belongings, Peltarch is the same … but not. The guard barracks and section are no longer there. There is another temple. Hemrod moved shop. Even the walls have been rebuilt.

    There are no familiar faces. People walk around going about their business. I feel I should know them, but I don’t. This is not the same Peltarch I left so very long ago.

    I asked an errant elf if there had been a war. The condition of the walls seemed to indicate cataclysm and ravages. I had expected a simple “Yes”, but what I received instead was an invitation to tea and a long recounting of recent events. I wonder if this elf who goes by the name of Raryldor does this to all the people who ask him questions.

    I took a boat south to Norwick. Like many of the places I’ve seen, it’s the same … but not. Norwick has expanded considerably in the passing years, and buildings have moved or added. While I was there, a speech was given by one of the guards, and he and the new leader of the militia argued with other visitors about preparation for war, and lack of recognition for their contributions in recent conflicts.

    I tuned it out after a time. The bluster, arrogance, and lack of respect on both sides was astounding. Eventually, I headed back to the city I served so long ago.

    I ran into Raryldor again. He invited me to go on a trip to the Underdark with him. Perhaps he’s truly insane, or perhaps the Underdark too is not as I remember it.

    I did meet a nice woman named Val. I had been trying to sell the ring given to me by the old leaders of Norwick. I don’t have a use for it, and the magic is rather powerful. She offered to enchant me a replacement in trade of the ring, and I accepted gladly. Val is a member of the lore masters and bards in the city, and much of my good fortune has always centered on such good natured people. Zyphlin was Adam’s protégé, and Adam was one of Kanen’s best friends. All good people in their own way.

    As the city grows more familiar with each passing day, the question remains of my purpose here. Without it I am truly lost, even in familiar places.