3. The journal of Selena Sureflight - Unbroken Bonds

The journal of Selena Sureflight - Unbroken Bonds


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    _Fading sunlight in a high pass, the cold wind chilling them, as they drew their cloaks closer around their bodies. The elf male walked on the ridge in front of them, a great bear at his side, while the two women walked slowly, behind him. The noise of birds settling in the few trees whose roots found solace in the rough surface was soothing, but nothing could remove the scent of imminent danger, a keening on the wind a shrill warning that this land was not safe … not safe at all.

    From the underbrush they appeared, ferocious looking males in bright colored armors, swinging heavy maces while covering their chest with stout shields. Before the elf could react, one of the women let out a warning shout ... too late. The dark-haired woman took a blow to the head, a scream cut short as she sunk to the floor, crossbow slipping from limp grasp ..._

    "Yhesail!" Selena awoke with a gasp, the sweat-covered sheets clinging to her body as she jumped upright, her breath slowly calming down as she recognised where she was. Wiping her wet hair from her face, relief returning, she pulled the sheets away, and took a tentative step on the wooden floor of the inn-room. A sudden knocking on the door startled her again.

    "Miss Selena?" went a booming male voice, muffled by the inches of wood. "Are you allright? I heard something from your room."

    "I … I am fine, a ... a nightmare, don't worry, friend Barle." she replied.

    She could hear feet shuffling behind the door as the muted reply came. "Good ... you had me worried, miss. Anyway, I'm here with your bath, as you ordered, at dawn, yes?" She could hear a hand working the knob of the door.

    "No wait! I-" The door flew open, unveiling Barle, the innkeeper, supporting a large bathtub, the maid Misty on the other side, steam rising from the water that filled it to the rim. The innkeeper gave a start at seeing Selena naked. Instinctively, she covered her abdomen with her hands and backed down to the bed, taking the humid sheet to cover her body before calming down. The Innkeeper looked flushed as he pulled his eyes from Selena's curves, and bowed apologetically, some of the hot water sloshing over the edge of the tub. "I ... my apologies, miss ... we didn't know ... I-"

    "I'm allright ... just put it down."

    After placing the bathtub on the wooden floor, Barle quickly made his way to the door. "I ... good morning, miss Selena. I do apologise again for ... intruding." His eyes reflexively flowed over her body again, covered by the sheets this time. "Enjoy your bath." With that, he swiveled on his heels and made his way to the stairs again. Misty remained for a moment to put soap and towels on the nearest chair, smiling slightly at Selena as she turned, with a hint of curiosity in her eyes, before leaving too and pulling the door close behind her.

    Calm again, Selena dropped the sheet again, and stepped over to the bath. Nimbly slipping inside the hot water to prevent splashing, she let out a relaxed sigh, sinking deeper until nought but her head was visible above the water. Taking a deep breath, she slipped deeper, head to toe covered in hot water, a shiver coursing through her spine as she was enveloped. A gasp for air as her head broke the surface again, her long red locks clinging to her face again, but this time not with sweat, her entire body relaxed as she lay there, the hot water cleansing her body of filth as much as her mind of the thoughts of her nightmare.

    Yhesail ... The name felt so familiar, even after so many years. Selena wondered how she was doing. Together with the image of the beautiful Selûnite, some other faces returned. Wynn and Dram, the memory of the mischieveous halflings darting around the fire at the gates of Norwick. Yervil the elven magician ... Zoma ... the cold warrior who would not allow her to strike down the woman, cursed with Vampirism. Many more faces, long forgotten, but brought back by the cold air of these northern lands coursing through her lungs, filling her with joy at the remembrance. A suprising thought, and a wondering why this land had never left her heart.

    Selena stepped out of the cooling water, drying herself off with the towel before covering her chest with it, an odd custom, but these lands were strange to her. Pulling open the covers of the window, letting the cold northern air flow through the room, she took deep breaths and looked over Norwick, so quiet in the morning light.

    She had returned. Duty once again brought her to these lands. A sliver of pain piercing her heart for a moment as was reminded of her reason, but she clenched her teeth.

    "Yhesail ... I will find you."


  • Entry Three

    I write this from a room in the Dancing Mermaid inn in Peltarch. I finally made it. This morning I first made my way to Jiyyd. An evil hobgoblin tried to rob me along the road, yet an arrow through his chest ended his vile existence. His death cry resounds in my mind still, yet I feel no remorse.

    The locals of Jiyyd seem to have forgotten about the Most Noble Order of LAW altogether. Would they still exist? All that remains there is a small, well kept temple of the god known as Helm, the Vigilant One, but there were no priestesses in attendance. Maybe I shall return later.

    The road north was uneventful. The Eastlander people do not recognise me, and this is good. I arrived in Peltarch late this afternoon.

    I resisted the urge to make inquiries right away. It does not strike me as right, though that feeling might be fear crawling within me. Also, I have no idea where to start. A young woman gave me a flower, and in return the True bestowed Strength upon me, so I could void the wounds on her body. There is sweetness even in this cold land. Eowien, an elven priestess of a local God of War saw fit to lead me around the city, asking no coin in return.

    The city is quite large, and it seems to hold many dangers for the unwary, especially after nightfall. I have found a shrine to the True in the local temple of the Just. It seems the Triad is well represented here, and I will inquire with the Head Priestess. Maybe she will know what happened to the ancient Order of LAW. I prayed before the statue of the True. It still feels awkward to think of the True as a male, yet in my heart I know it makes no difference. The True’s faith and sacrifice could have been born from any pure heart.

    Eowien showed me to the many shops and markets all around the city. Most were stocked with rich clothing and expensive trinkets, for which I have no use. Maybe, when I fulfill my Duty, I will visit them again, and find a present for Yhesail, and my birth-mother. Right now my gold must go to my Duty, and I donated ten of my precious gold pieces to the Head Priestess. I hope she can bring the gold to good use.

    I am amused that Eowien avoided the shop named “Wilting Flower Shoppe”. The sign on the door bore a provocative etchings. I have noticed base lusts govern many of these northern people. They have not the knowledge to place them in perspective to Duty and Tradition.

    I will stay in the city for a few more days. Maybe I will make inquiries in the morning, but I fear my heart may falter again. True one, strengthen my heart. I fear I may falter without you.


  • Entry Two

    I met a young elven male this morn. He introduced himself as “Cat”, a most peculiar name, and not one that sounds very Elvish. He seemed quite respectable for a local male, though I could not fail to notice his glances as he watched me in my armor. My purse is light, and I have a long way to go until the fulfillment of my Duty. He suggested we cleanse the east road to Jiyyd of a group of marauding orcs. How the warriors of this land tolerate vile orcs on their land is beyond me, so I complied with Cat, and we set out north.

    The cold wind of the pass refreshed me. I cannot deny it’s pull, it is the reason I am still here, next to my Duty. I feel my blood call me to this land, more so than Ixinos, at times. I wonder if my birth-mother always knew. My heart stopped for a moment when we crossed the ridge where I saw Yhesail fall. The warriors of the Eastland still roam the pass, yet they started not hostilities. Even after all these years, I find it hard to supress my longing for vengeance. They struck at me and mine, and I am unable to strike back. I must keep my Fury restrained, to only strike when the True demands it. I think it is a lesson to be learned.

    We found the orcs. They had fallen to squabbling among their number, and three of them lay dead already. Despite this, they hesitated not when they saw us. The battle was mercifully short and my bow brought down three in a row. I cannot help but feel pride in slaying these evil creatures. I hope I can find humility to balance against this. I took one of the orc’s shields as my own. I think it was booty from a human caravan once. It’s of good make, and sturdy, though what blazon it once bore I cannot say.

    Cat led me to a camp to the north, where Gypsy folk have made their home amidst the steep cliffs of a valley in the Giantspire Mountains. Friendly folk mostly, they offered me wine and a night at the fire. I had a long talk with a young elven woman, named Sul’lina. Our names seem similar, though I feel little kinship with her. She seemed, like so many here, baffled by the Genifar customs. I need to learn what to tell and what not, for I fear I cause anger unknowningly. She seemed forgiving, even if she could not understand them.

    She is a mother. A part of me feels jealeousy, though she seems to speak of the holy conception ritual as an afterthought. The day I bear a daughter will be of great significance, and the rituals need to be performed correctly. It is abhorrent to me that people would go about this so lightly. This land never ceases to surprise me.


  • Entry One

    I am back. Though the land feels strange to me, bereft of struggle. Norwick has grown, and pushed back the forest, expanded into the Nars pass. Yet I find it to be emptier than before, fewer merchants peddling their wares, fewer people on the streets. Locals told me of the battles that raged in the forest, the alliances that were made and the great evil that was vanquished. Yet where peace should bring prosperity, it has brought Norwick little. A part of me wishes I could have been there. I am still weak, and a strong warrior I will never be, but I could have helped with Kia and Tristina in aiding the wounded and burying the dead.

    The old Mayor, Tarien, I heard was killed during the war, in his own home. His son Jandor has taken over, and has hired mercenary guardsmen to enforce the peace. However I might have grown used to the sight of armed males, these are especially abhorrent to me. Cold males, hiding their toughts and clances behind tough visors, they are anathema of what a male should embody.

    I have not seen Yhesail in a long while. I the warmth and friendship of my sister, and I do hope I will see her again, some day. Thinking of her, I was reminded of the male she was devoted to, Serigo. If I recall correctly, he used to be part of a northern order of Knights, the order of LAW. Maybe I should look into it. I need a foothold in this land, and strong warriors at my side, be they male or woman, would certainly aid me in my Duty.

  • S

    She's back! 😄 😄

    Hurrah!! 😄 😄 😄 😄 😄 😄 😄 😄 😄 😄 😄 😄 😄 😄 😄 😄


  • A great read! The background and the story above.

    Cheers, Vile!


  • ((EDITED - Story no longer available in Historical Archives, so repost here))

    The History of Selena Weréne

    Iréa of Clan Weréne was a beautiful, strong swordswoman. Born in "Poor Relations" (as the Genifari who are not members of the Clan's household were called), she urged to better herself. She proved herself a devoted warrior, and after her three-year of grueling training, she was quick to join with the Sisterhood of the Bronze Dawn, and leave the Isle of Ixinos to serve as a mercenary abroad, exploring the world, and it's strange customs. She was a masterful bladeswoman, and it was only a matter of time before she was voted leader of the Sword Sister unit. Over the course of a few years, she traveled the North of Faerun, exploring unknown countries and customs, and winning great riches for the She-Wolves and her clan.

    As it happened, when she reached her thirthieth year, Iréa desired a daughter, to saveguard her line and her honour. She was called before the then-young Clan-chieftain Nazéri Weréne, who offered her a sizable sum, to reflect the honour she had brought to the tribes, and made many suggestions about desirable males of various clans who were bound to sire a strong daughter. Yet, as Iréa had traveled abroad for many years, her interest had been sparked by the myriad of strong men she had encountered in the Northlands, one came to mind especially, a male who claimed to be a Knight of Torm, a god who was very much alike the goddess of Duty and Loyalty many of the Genifari, and especially the Clan Weréne worshipped.

    Grudgingly Chieftain Nazéri gave in, and Iréa traveled to the city of Peltarch, far in the once-great empire of the Nar, Narfell, and sought the Knight out. The Knight was a wealthy man, though yet unmarried, and despite the fact that the custom baffled him, he agreed to sire Iréa a daughter, most likely compelled by the sizeable sum of gold and gems her chieftain had given her as payment for the mating, as well as Iréa's comely appearance, as she had been gifted by the gods with both strength of arm and beauty.

    Ainate Weréne, the Selûnite Birth-Seer who accompannied Iréa, spent long hours and days observing both Iréa's cycle and that of the Moon, until she deemed the time ready, that Iréa's Anima would conceive a daughter. By then the Knight and Iréa had spent many days together, and from the look in his eyes it was obvious he had grown fond of the strong Amazon. When the ritual started, it was more than his male desire that sparked the anima of Iréa. Yet however it was, after the ritual, Ainate observed, and approved that Iréa was indeed pregnant, and that the time had come to return to Ixinos.

    When Iréa said her goodbyes to the Knight, with a determined look in her eyes, the sadness in his was obvious. But Iréa was a woman firmly entrenched in her way of life, and she left with her Clan-sisters, leaving behind the Knight in the city, a broken man. Many months later, Iréa's child was born, and indeed, it was a daughter, much to the joy of the entire Clan. The Priestesses of Lathea named her Selen, and Iréa wished her daughter to inherit her beauty, naming her Selena Weréne.

    As Selena became older, she led a life bereft of struggle, she was an intelligent student, and grew up to be a beautiful young woman, though she never had the strength so ingrained in her mother. Iréa was not displeased, as she had seen the eyes of the Priestesses of Tormo watch over the young Selena, and there was no greater honour than becoming a priestess of Tormo for a member of Clan Weréne. Upon becoming a woman, instead of starting her formal martial training, Selena was indeed taken in by the Priesthood of Tormo, and taken to Hallow Hall, the Household of Clan Weréne and Temple of Tormo. There she was instructed in the ways of the faith for a year.

    After the year, she reached the time where it was upon her to do her rite of passage, an arduous journey to be undertaken. When the priestesses were deciding where the young Selena should travel, they were interrupted by Iréa herself, a most inappropriate occurance. Iréa, who had been looking at her daughter as she aged, and had seen not only herself in a mirror, but too the Knight who sired her, had remembered the grief on the male's face when she had left him. It was not customary for the father of a Genifar to ever meet his daughter, yet she could not help but wish her erstwhile mate to see his daughter one time.

    Therefore she asked, most unregularly, if Selena could be sent to the lands of Narfell for her rite of passage. Iréa had brought the Clan much honour in the past, so they grudgingly agreed, with no questions asked, as the lands of Narfell were known for their harshness, and would harden a woman who wished to become a priestess of the Loyal Fury.

    Before she set out from Hallow Hall, and took a ship to the North, to Narfell, Selena's mother took her aside for a long night of talking, telling her of the world abroad, and the strange customs that were so common in other lands. About armed males, and kings, and male gods. Countless pearls of wisdom she had learned on her travels, she told her daughter, so she would be safer. And as the night passed, she finally told Selena about her father, the Knight. She could give no name, only where he lived, and who he was. Looking her daughter deep in the eyes, Iréa gave her a single feather, dyed white, the sign of a heart-sister, normally only exchanged between two women who shared the deepest bond of love, and asked Selena to present it to the Knight, as a thanks for giving her the most wondrous child she could have ever wished.

    Selena was baffled for a moment, but seeing the genuine emotion on her mother's face, she did not hesitate to comply, accepting the feather.

    In the morning, after too few hours of sleep, Selena stood on the docks, a ship of the Red-Wave Riders ready to carry her across the Sea of Fallen Stars, to the harsh lands of the North, to Narfell. As the ship set out, she could see her mother, standing on the docks, hand raised in solemn salute, until she became a speck in the distance. She turned to face the North, and looked over the sea, towards her destiny.

  • ?

    claps for Anakore