3. The past returns

The past returns


  • _Sometimes I feel the fear of
    uncertainty stinging clear…
    And I cant help but ask myself
    how much I'll let the fear
    take the wheel and steer

    He looked across the commons at the attractive and fit blonde woman, giving her a charming smile as she stated how he had startled her. He gave a little laugh, mostly just wanting to sit back and relax and think a bit as she went on about how he reminded her of someone she once knew.

    “Adam, always Adam” he thought to himself, chuckling inside his head at the constant references to his old mentor and him.

    “My old friend Domar.”

    The breath caught in his throat. Coincidence, had to be coincidence. Why in the world would this woman know his grandfather that had been dead for decades. He gave it no mind until she continued, giving his last name.

    “Domar Requialis, do you know him?”

    The Tymorran should’ve known better to believe in coincidences.

    How rarely had he heard his true last name given in the past three decades of being in Narfell. He looked slowly to the woman, awe struck by the chance of this. He told her he knew him, staying vague as he listened. She said her name was Winters. Gods did that sound familiar to him, yet he just couldn’t place it.

    They talked a bit longer, and the longer they talked the more something seemed familiar about the woman and yet at the same time things felt wrong, off in some way. However it wasn’t till she started asking him how he knew his grandfather and if he heard of his death that things began to not make sense.

    “It was terrible to lose him two years ago, we all loved him dearly.”

    Two years? That couldn’t be right, no way possible; His grandfather had been dead for a few decades. Its then when the realization of the name hit him. Winters. Liv Winters, his grandfathers traveling companion and the former paladin owner of Robyn’s old blade. Looking to her as realization donned upon his face Zyph quickly sketched out a quick rendition of the blade and showed it to her, asking if it was hers. She laughed a bit, shaking her head, saying she has never had a holy blade. He began to think he was jumping at shadows when she went on.

    “Vortelli is making me a wedding present and I can guess what it is, but I doubt it will be holy blade in any sense.”

    Vortelli, the man that gave Robyn her rapier; the beautiful yet cursed blade that she kept with he for as long as he knew her. There was no question now, this was Liv Winters. That answer however drove forth a number of other questions.

    How was she still alive, and on top of that why did she think it was only two years since her grandfathers death? Could she shed light on the number of mysteries within his journal he found and the odd relics within his final box of possessions? Could this still be tied to Robyn in some way, despite her final rest and journey to the lands of her goddess?

    Zyph didn’t know the answers to really any of these, and more so he had no want or desire to tell this poor woman that she should be dead and that she’s somehow missed part of her history. But here she was, despite what he may want, and on top of it all threatening to have him arrested for “stealing” his grandfathers belongings. Gods how he wished Robyn was here, some how when it came to all this she seemed to make things seem simple.

    He had hurt so many in his life, told so many horrible news to watch it devastate them. He was tired, and more than that he was burnt out thanks to this curse from the damned golden mask placed safely in his bag on his side. But that really didn’t matter and he knew it, telling her was the right thing to do and in the end he would do it. He told her to meet him out front of the college in a few days and he would have the story of it all written out for her to read…and he assured her it would be a long read.

    He headed off to the college, his hand placed upon the hilt of his grandfathers blade, while his mind raced with what exactly he was going to write once he arrived to his office._


  • _Confusion never stops
    Closing walls and ticking clocks
    Gonna, come back and take you home
    I could not stop that you now know

    As the night drew on, Zyphlin’s hand moved quick as he fell into his writing…

    @80910d1e3c:

    I write this now with a heavy hand and troubled heart, for I truly do not know how to rightly do justice to what I must tell. The information that will be within will cause confusion and possibly anger, if you do not simply disbelieve it straight out. However I give you my word that all I write within this letter is true to my knowledge.

    My name is Zyphlin Re’cual, or as by birth Requialis, and I am the grandson of Donar Requialis. All this is true as I have told you before. Despite my apparent, human, heritage I was born to two elven parents. The specifics are my birth could forge a letter of their own, and I do not wish to get into them in their entirety. However my ancestry to Donar is true. What is also true is that I have not met my grandfather, though I know a bit about him. How I know about him is where I should really begin I guess.

    I was told a story by a woman about his death. The adventure of the “Invincible Three” within the castle. She told me in vivid detail about the hordes rushing the stairs. How your rapier snapped upon jumping over the side and how you saw Vortalli in the water trough bleeding. How you looked upon my grandfather and his eyes led you to the oil above. How you missed the first shot towards it as you reluctantly gave in to there being no other way, and how he called out to garner the attention of the orcs long enough for your second shot despite his death.

    She is the one that told me the two of them called you Liv. She is the reason why I know for sure that the rapier that Vortalli was to give you was going to be a holy blade of Tyr. She is also the reason I discovered my grandfathers effects. Its this part of the story however that will begin to further confuse you and cause you not to believe me.

    You and your partner sent my grandfathers things to his family in Evermeet, however they never made it. They were ambushed and stolen and sell sold to different people around Faerun. Robyn discovered the location of it and told me, as his only relative she knew, and we set out to recover it which through a long and interesting adventure we managed to do.

    You may be asking yourself how this woman knew so much, and if that is what you are asking it is wise for it is the key to all this.

    Robyn Jahnsdotter was a beautiful and skilled swordswoman and archer here in Narfell. While her past is not fully known to me to my understanding she was approached by a man with a rapier of stunning quality. He gifted this rapier to her, for a reason I still never discovered, and taught her the art of swashbuckling. This blade was one he made for his former wife, a brave and skilled Paladin of Tyr. The man’s name was Vortalli, the paladin the blade once belonged to went by the surname of Winters.

    Robyn knew of the death of Donar not due to hearing about it but due to seeing it first hand, through dreams inspired by the sword. She was you, and you were her, within this dream. Apparently shortly after she started having it the man Vortalli came to her and gave her journals to look through which lead her to discover my relation to the man she had saw in her dream. It is for that reason that she sought the information of the location of his chest of items so we could recover them.

    His chest, which had been missing for more then two hundred years.

    I know you likely believe none of this right now. I know you believe it to be only two years since his death. I am certain that is not the truth however. I do not know what has happened to cause your return to this world, or why you do not realize the true time that you are within. I swear to you upon all that is holy in this world however that the words I speak are true, no matter how ludicrous they are. Ask yourself how else I can know some of the things I know of you and the situations surrounding you and your companions. You know that at the least there is something to this.

    You are a paladin of Tyr, a seeker of truth, read my words and find me to look upon my eyes and my soul. You shall see that I speak the truth. And once you do then we can move onto the next important step…why are you here.

    He put his quill down, looking over the text for a moment with a sad look upon his face. No matter how he prettied it up he knew what was stated within this letter. He was telling this woman she should not be alive._


  • _Oh, where oh where can my baby be?
    The Lord took her away from me
    She's gone to heaven, so I got to be good
    So I can see my baby when I leave this world.

    The candle light flickered and danced upon the wick sending up a tapestry of shadows against the walls of the small study. His papers were strewn about him, a few books and journals piled up on the side, as he sat back into his chair with one hand resting on the table while the other ran through his blonde mane. He looked down to the blank canvas of the paper, his mind still wheeling with how and what to begin.

    His mind went to Robyn, the woman who brought him into this whole saga. He smiled slightly as he breathed in the hazelnut scent of his candles while his thoughts went to her, seeing her there smiling that wise yet adventurer us smile upon the hill in Jiyyd. He had never met a woman quite like her to this day. He still couldn’t quite put his finger on it, on what made her so unique. She seemed to have an air of innocence about her yet at the same time her eyes showed a woman who had seen more hardship in her years few years in this world than an elf would in five centuries. There was always spark there between them, something unspoken and would never fully be realized. He always stated she was like a sister to him, however he kne it wasn't true. He did care about her, but the situation was never right and fate never gave the two a chance. It seemed to be the theme within Robyn's life, one he had became aware of all to well. It was this knowledge that was the reason why he always told himself she was just "like a sister" and nothing more when he thought of her. But his heart knew the truth.

    He still remembered when this all first began, when she surprised him by showing up in Cormyr as he was attempting to flee from Narfell and life in general; when he was at the lowest point the had been in his life. She had told him of dreams she was having and of a meeting with her former weapons teacher, the man that had bestowed her with her Rapier. She also told him of his grandfather and his death, and that she had discovered the resting place of his belongings that were stolen before reaching ever meet.

    He never would have imagined however that the woman from that story would walk into his life years after Robyn’s death.

    He had lost her without having a chance to say goodbye, perhaps in some way carrying on what consumed the last years of her life would do justice to her memory. Leaning forward from his chair he grasped his quill and began to write as he thought back to the soft but strong voice of Robyn telling the story…_