Danthalas
03-03-2003, 06:47 PM
A lone hawk circled lazily in the late afternoon sky, searching for what would most likely be his last meal of the day. Far below, in a thick forest of swaying pines, a man in black leather leggings and boots wiped the beads of sweat from his brow pulling his sandy blonde hair away from his face. Observing the vast canyon spread out before him, he surveyed his childhood home that he had not seen in nearly twenty years. Today, his plans included a surprise reunion with his parents. Since his departure, he had not once seen his mother or father but kept in frequent contact with them through shadowy corridors of magic. Of course, he never intended to be gone so long but fate’s devices had placed him in the midst of the War of the Lance. A battle that had lasted far too long in his estimation but had ended well enough with the thwarting of the dark queen Takhisis’ plans. Her minions had been beaten back into their respective domains and a fragile peace had, for the time being at least, settled over the lands of Krynn.
At dawn he had said a fond farewell to his companions in Solace, a city built among the boughs of the mighty vallenwood trees that grew there, and summoned an old friend to carry him swiftly through the skies to his place of origin. Although the mighty griffon, Prowl, had offered to carry him the entire distance to his parents’ dwelling tucked in the vast mountains of Thorbardin, he had refused the generous offer. Danthalas explained that he would very much like to walk the rest of the way, some five miles, to reacquaint himself with the lands he roamed as a young boy. Prowl obliged him, landing on a small outcropping of rock on the cliffs above the forest in which he now stood. He had said his goodbyes to his trusted mount and watched for a time as the majestic creature sped swiftly away.
The journey had been a slow one as Danthalas took a great deal of time to smell the delicate flowers and touch every sturdy tree he passed. Winding down a well worn deer trail that had existed far longer than he, Danthalas smiled at the feint smell of spiced potatoes in the air. His father was undoubtedly preparing one of his favorite meals, carefully following a recipe he’d picked up on his travels in Solace. Peering through the trees he could see a wispy plume of smoke drifting slowly up from the valley where his mother would be tenderly nurturing her garden, a love shared by all elves with few exceptions. Though Selinth could have grown a beanstalk that reached the heavens through the use of her more than adequate arcane skills, she chose to do it only with hard work and a gentle loving touch. She had little use for magic these days, and rarely practiced the art.
In the days following the Cataclysm, when the gods in their anger had cast the fiery mountain upon the corrupt city of Istar causing horrible destruction and forever changing the face of the world, bands of renegades and mercenaries roamed the lands. Looking for villages to plunder, the lawless men would loot the towns and visit unspeakable horrors upon their inhabitants. Occasionally they would enter the Kelvan woodlands that Selinth called home. Well rehearsed in the magical arts then, she and others in her village with their keen arrows saw to it that few, if any, ever made it out of those woods alive.
It was there that she had met Danthalas’ father, in fact. He had heard the story told by his mother many times of the day when an elven search party had been assembled to find a small girl that had wandered into the woods and had not been seen for several hours. Selinth and her search party had followed the girls trail listening to the trees as they guided them to a large opening at the edge of the forest.
A scream shattered the still air from across the opening. A quick signal from Kehrsi, the leader of the Kelvanwood elves, and the group vanished from sight and silently drew their weapons. The report came down from the trees that a large band of raiders, mostly human, had captured the elven girl and were viciously taunting her but that she was, thus far, unharmed. The bad news was that they were out of accurate bow range and there were too many adversaries to fight in the open field. Should they attempt that, they would all surely be slaughtered.
Kehrsi turned to Selinth with a pleading look. “ What can be done here, Selinth? Perhaps you can…” He was cut short by the grave look on her face. “ I can not cast any spell that would take out enough of them to assist without harming the child.” The decision at hand weighed heavy on Kehrsi’s mind but he knew that he could not return to his people without the child. It wasn’t even an option. As he drew his blade and prepared to sound the charge, it was then that a flash of light appeared in the opposite corner. Accompanying that flash was a booming battle cry, “ Est Solaris Oth Mithas! “. A lone knight, in armor that caught the suns last rays of the day, charged the field on a powerful white horse, quickly closing the gap between himself and what would most certainly be his own death, as the raiders turned to face this shiny, bellowing fool.
Lowering a gleaming lance the knight carefully skewered one of the men and drove his lance into the ground, effectively vaulting himself from his mount and launching him squarely into the chests of several of the men surrounding the girl. The knight then quickly staggered to his feet and regained his wind. He whistled sharply to his horse as it kicked its way through the crowd of raiders trying to subdue the beast. As the horse approached, the knight swiftly grabbed the elven girl and threw her into the saddle. “ Hang on!” he yelled, smacking the horse on its rump. The horse bolted off into the woods crushing an ill-fated raider foolish enough to stand in its path.
The knight, now surrounded by thirty angry raiders, calmly drew his blade and held it out in salute. Knowing his death was coming did not give him the incentive to simply give up. If anything, it gave him the resolve to take as many of these lawless ruffians with him as humanly possible. “You’re gonna pay for killing our mate and losing our entertainment for the evening. “ hissed a filth covered man. Lunging at the knight and swinging wildly the first opponent fell as the knight easily parried the blow and politely removed the head of his attacker. It was then that they fell upon him like an unstoppable wave. Swinging his shield as he thrust his sword he caught what appeared to be a half-goblin under the chin and knocked him back into his fellows while piercing another man through his gut. This strike was to be his last, however, as a rather large man, probably part ogre, slammed the back of the knights helmet with the flat of his blade and the knight pitched forward into two more waiting blades that found their way into the gaps in his armor. He fell two his knees and attempted to raise his sword in a final challenge as the huge man-ogre approached him from the rear and raised his own exceedingly large blade intending to split this annoying humans head in twain.
A whistling pierced the air followed by a quick thock and the man-ogre hit the ground with a boom that resembled the sound of a felled vallenwood tree, an elven arrow protruding from his throat. He never got to deliver his intended blow. Immediately following this occurrence, history repeated itself many times over. More whistling and consequently, even more of the raiders fell to the ground. Before the remaining plunderers could regroup and compose themselves, a burst of flame ignited in their midst setting more than a few of the vandals ablaze. Before they realized that it was not the dense wildflowers flinging the fiery whistling death at them, their numbers had been reduced by more than half. The survivors wisely fled, screaming something about ‘haunted woods’ as they ran.
The knight, still on his knees watched it all unfold as if he were dreaming. “Praise be to Paladin!” he gasped as he fell to the ground and stars flashed in his eyes as he lost consciousness. In his final moments he saw what he surmised to be a beautiful elven woman coming to lead him to the heavens and eternal peace.
This was, of course, not to be the case. There was no love lost between human and elven kind, but after watching the heroic performance displayed by this selfless human, great care was taken to heal him quickly and thoroughly. His actions had resulted in the safety of the child and the victory of the elven search party against an otherwise unbeatable foe. Not to mention the stigma that was forever placed on the Kelvanwood that it was haunted, which all the elves welcomed with grins and winks from that day forward.
Selinth had requested that she be placed in charge of the knights’ care. Kehrsi had granted that request with nary a thought, thinking that no male would want to care for this human and since she was the only female in the search party, that she would naturally be drawn to aid him after watching his heroism. He didn’t, however, expect what was to come.
Through tending to him and giving him almost constant attention, Selinth learned that this man was a knight of the crown, the lowest ranking order in the Solamnic Knights who were not very popular in the dark days following the Cataclysm. She also learned that his name was Thealis and as his health recovered throughout the many weeks of care, the two had grown very fond of each other.
The news of their love was no shock to anyone in the village. It was quite obvious after some time and the two made little effort to hide it. Most frowned upon their relationship but others secretly encouraged their love. Kehrsi was one of these people. He could never openly condone such relations between a wood elf and a human but he had known Selinth for many years as a trusted friend, and had come to respect and admire the Solamnic she had grown to love. This made it very difficult when it was time for Thealis to leave. Selinth knew full well that he could never remain here in the Kelvanwood. The elves would not permit it. She also knew what it meant for her should she choose to remain his lover. She would be forever exiled from the only land she had ever called home.
Dark clouds drifted through the early dawn bringing with it a sorrowful rain. Softly falling on the village of the Kelvanesti it helped to hide the tears shed by most as Selinth said her goodbyes to a people she dearly loved. It was almost as if the whole world wept at the tragic fate that brought two people together in a love that must surely end in despair for the long lived elven woman. A thought that, though chilling, was always forgotten when the two looked at each other. As the early morning mist crept silently through the woods the two set off on life’s journey together.
Danthalas drew a long deep breath as he recalled the story his mother had related so many times. Selinth had never regretted her choice and there was never a time that Danthalas could recall that she did not seem entirely happy with her life. She always had a kind, loving smile that had eased his mind in troubled times. A smile he longed desperately to see on this day.
It had been 20 years since he’d left home to train with the Solamnic knights. Thealis had said that his son had “dallied” around in the mountains long enough and that it was time he made something of himself. Though he was prematurely knighted due to the rumors of the coming war, Danthalas had excelled in all his studies and was more than ready to face the numerous battles he had fought. Several scars marred his otherwise perfect skin ( A gift from his mother ). Each one had a story but not all battle related. Some were attributed to long nights in warm brothels where he frequently had more than his fair share of spirits ( A gift from his father ). Danthalas chuckled at the foggy memory of one scar in particular but the laughter suddenly died in his throat…
A shrill, eerie whistle pierced the silence of the forest below him. A sound that could easily have been made by a bird or other woodland creature. But Danthalas, knowing these woods as well as anyone, and better than most, knew the sound he’d heard had not come from anything that resided here. In his travels, he had come across many bands of raiders, mercenaries and the like. They would often use such whistles to communicate with other members of their party during an attack without drawing unwanted attention to themselves.
Danthalas quickly loosened his sword in its scabbard and, grabbing his longbow, raced down the hill toward his parents dwelling. Scanning the tree line below with his keen elven eyes he cursed his human inheritance of shorter legs. They had served him well but never seemed to move as fast as he would have liked.
He could now see his parents cottage in the distance about three hundred yards ahead and below him in a small opening that overlooked a huge rock cliff. With great dismay he also realized that his earlier assumption had been correct. A large raiding party had surrounded the house in the woods carefully concealed from view. A plan of attack quickly formed in his head but was even more quickly discarded as a blaring horn shattered the air. The attack had been signaled and there was no time for planning now.
Finding his targets as they moved forward, Danthalas recklessly jumped over a rocky embankment and slid down it firing an arrow at an unsuspecting raider from behind. His aim was true and the first opponent fell hard to the ground. Rocks cutting into his legs as he slid, he fumbled clumsily for another arrow. Finding his prize he quickly strung and fired his missile into the leg of another unsuspecting foe. The marauder fell to the ground with a loud groan alerting his fellows to an unexpected visitor at their flanks.
Reaching the bottom of the steep rocky incline, Danthalas stumbled to his feet and fired another projectile at yet another charging attacker. The man dropped instantly and fell upon his own blade as it slipped from his grasp. Quickly drawing his sword he raced to the cottage with several brigands now in tow. Entering the clearing he saw that several of the raiders were now engaged in a battle of steel with an old man who Danthalas vaguely recognized as his father. Though he had aged significantly and only barely resembled the man Danthalas remembered, he was still a force to be reckoned with.
Some sixty years old now, Thealis was still an imposing, muscular figure and had apparently not forgotten how to wield a sword. The raiders were only half-heartedly attacking him, just enough to wear the old man down. They were smart enough to know that his age would catch up with him sooner or later.
Turning to face his own pursuers, Danthalas blocked a vicious blow leveled at his neck. The blade missed its intended mark but sliding off Danthalas’ sword, bit deeply into his thigh. Gasping as the white hot flash of pain was realized, Danthalas brought his own blade back up in a blind rage, beheading the affronter. He parried blow after blow of what seemed like an endless barrage of strikes from three ragged bandits. He was, however, losing ground and was being driven purposefully to the edge of the gaping precipice.
Thealis was beginning to tire. He had taken a glancing blow to his right shoulder and was bleeding profusely from the ensuing wound. He cursed himself for overextending his attack and though he was completely aware of the tactics they were using, was unable to do more than repel the attacks. He was also aware of the young half-elf that had unexpectedly come to his aid but knew the halfling had his own battle to wage and would not be available to assist him any time soon. Thealis knew the conclusion to his own battle would not be long in coming.
Almost sensing their impending victory, the raiders charged the old man in an attempt to knock him off balance and throw off his defensive rhythm. This action resulted in its intended affect. Thealis shuffled backwards and tripped on a large stone beneath his foot. Falling backwards he swung his blade upwards to ward off the expected onslaught but could not block all three of the advances. Cold steel slid smoothly into his chest, stealing away the precious oxygen needed to scream. He crumpled over, looking more like a man should at his age, and fell to the ground.
Seeing his father’s face contort with pain and fall to the ground, Danthalas screamed wildly and swung his sword in a wide arc. The reckless maneuver came as a surprise and knocked two of his attackers off balance. Deftly ducking under the thirds slicing blow, Danthalas pulled a dagger from his belt with his free hand and plunged it into the brute’s torso. Letting go of the dagger he grabbed the back of the mans shirt and pushed with all his rage sending him flying over the brink of the overhang to a crushing death on the jagged rocks below. Danthalas charged wildly at the men responsible for his fathers dissolution. They stood ready for his attack and seemed to eagerly await their next victim.
In the instant their swords met, a brilliant flash of light followed by a fiery explosion lifted Danthalas off his feet and threw him violently backwards, burning his sword arm terribly and scorching his face. Looking up from his back through watery eyes, he saw that one of the raiders had fared far worse than he and was little more than a pile of cinder and ash on the ground. Resuming his scan, his eyes locked on a familiar face that seemed untouched by time. It was that of his mother, Selinth.
Respectfully obeying her husband, she had concealed herself in a small shed behind the house. From her hiding place, she watched in horror as her beloved husband had fallen and had risen to join the battle knowing her own life would be forfeit. She did not know of Danthalas’ arrival and had realized too late his identity, unleashing the powerful
fireball spell.
A great sigh of relief escaped her lips as she saw Danthalas rise and regain some composure. Unfortunately, the remaining three raiders had also regained their feet along with their weapons and now approached the unarmed half-elf. Gritting his teeth attempting to quell the seething pain in his arm and face, he searched frantically for his sword but it had effectively disappeared. Finding a garden stake near him he scooped it up, madly laughing at the futility of such an act. It would do little good against tempered steel but he could not run and leave his mother to the designs of these evil men. After suffering such losses in what should have been easy pickings, these demons would have no aspirations to be merciful.
Danthalas reached for his dagger again, forgetting momentarily that it was lodged deep in a mangled carcass at the bottom of the ravine. Realizing how ridiculous he must look clutching a rickety wooden stake Danthalas conceded the inevitability of his own death but stood defiant as they approached with knowing grins.
They eyed the female elf mage cautiously and spread themselves out, putting Danthalas between them so that she would have to think twice before trying another of her fiery spells. Selinth looked lovingly at Danthalas and smiled that kind, comforting smile that he remembered fondly and had longed so desperately to see. Then she began to chant the ancient words of magic and extended her hand toward Danthalas. Sand slipped from between her knuckles and a look of intense concentration came across her face. At this, the raiders paused in their advance and looked at each other questioningly. Surely she would not destroy her own ally in some magical attempt to annihilate them all. Uncertainty obliged them to either run swiftly away or charge. They chose the latter…
Danthalas felt a dizzy sensation wash over him. Then the very ground on which he stood seemed to begin slipping away. He looked over to his mother and tried to run to her but found that he was effectively paralyzed and could not move or speak. Danthalas watched in slow motion as the raiders moved toward him preparing to deal a painful death to this troublesome halfling. He could see in all directions now as if he were floating above the scene. Though, he could not hear the any sound, he was completely aware of every detail. One detail, in particular, would be the focus of many nightmares from this day forward.
Lost in concentration, Selinth had no knowledge of the man that had snuck up behind her. He had a vengeful look upon his face and an arrow protruding from his right leg. Danthalas tried to cry out a warning to his mother, but no words would come. The man viciously grabbed Selinth by the throat, choking her and cutting off the words as she was reaching the end of her spell. Her eyes flew open with a look of intense terror and her face lost all color. The hand holding her spell components clutched tighter and the sand ran faster from it. Danthalas began to spin uncontrollably and he would undoubtedly have wretched had he had even the most remote ability to do so. Immense pain shot through his body as if he were being pulled in all directions at once. He fought to stay conscious but that was a battle he would soon lose as darkness poured over him erasing sight, sound, touch, smell, taste and then there was nothing...
Selinth dropped the sand and a small dagger attached to a thong on her wrist appeared. Using all her strength she spun wildly and drove the shank deeply into her assailant’s eye socket. Staggering away, she looked desperately around for her son but soon realized that it was, again, too late. Her spell had been miscast…
A lone hawk circled lazily overhead searching for what would most likely be his last meal of the day. Drops of water danced and splashed gleefully from a fountain in a large clearing in the middle of a deep forest. At its base, lay a crumpled man in torn black leggings and scuffed black boots. He stirred at the hooting of a distant owl and rolled over in the soft grass, sandy blonde hair falling away from his face. He slowly opened an eye and suddenly bolted upright as if awakening from a horrific nightmare, hand swiftly reaching to an empty scabbard at his hip. Memory came back in a dam breaking flood and with it the horror of its contents. Danthalas savagely looked around taking in his surroundings. He was at the base of a magnificent fountain in a large open field. Other than that, there were only trees as far as his almond shaped eyes could see. No other being was present and only the sounds of the fountain, a slight breeze and woodland creatures could be heard. It was either early morning or late evening by the look of the sky but he could not actually tell which. Thoroughly confused, he took inventory of himself. Though still a bit foggy he was not in any pain at all. He was wet from head to toe, however, but not in the least bit cold. He looked to his leg where there should have been a ghastly wound but not even a scratch was visible. In fact he had no wounds at all. The burns he sustained from his mothers fireball spell should have, at the very least, left horrible scarring but he could find no evidence of the event. Even the old scars he collected over many years had miraculously healed. He felt incredibly refreshed in all aspects save one. The scar of recent events was one that would never in a thousand lifetimes be healed.
After collecting his thoughts, Danthalas determined that he most certainly must have died. No other feasible possibility could explain his current condition. He walked over to the fountain and, cupping his hands, dipped them into the pool and splashed water on his face. It was cool but refreshing and he drank deeply from it though he was not at all thirsty or even hungry for that matter. Peering into the water he saw three things that he did not expect and only served to confuse matters even more. The first of these was his own reflection. Around his eyes, the skin had darkened forming what resembled a mask. The other two were also reflections. As he looked up into the early morning or late evening sky, depending on which it actually was, he saw two strange moons. One of them was a bright moon that cast its light brilliantly. The other seemed darker than the sky, if that were possible, and did not seem to cast its light so much, but rather seemed to be trying to suffocate the light from other moon. Staring at the two for a lengthy amount of time, he came to a startling conclusion. Danthalas was not sure if he was dead or not. But at least he did now know one thing for certain. He was no longer on Krynn…
At dawn he had said a fond farewell to his companions in Solace, a city built among the boughs of the mighty vallenwood trees that grew there, and summoned an old friend to carry him swiftly through the skies to his place of origin. Although the mighty griffon, Prowl, had offered to carry him the entire distance to his parents’ dwelling tucked in the vast mountains of Thorbardin, he had refused the generous offer. Danthalas explained that he would very much like to walk the rest of the way, some five miles, to reacquaint himself with the lands he roamed as a young boy. Prowl obliged him, landing on a small outcropping of rock on the cliffs above the forest in which he now stood. He had said his goodbyes to his trusted mount and watched for a time as the majestic creature sped swiftly away.
The journey had been a slow one as Danthalas took a great deal of time to smell the delicate flowers and touch every sturdy tree he passed. Winding down a well worn deer trail that had existed far longer than he, Danthalas smiled at the feint smell of spiced potatoes in the air. His father was undoubtedly preparing one of his favorite meals, carefully following a recipe he’d picked up on his travels in Solace. Peering through the trees he could see a wispy plume of smoke drifting slowly up from the valley where his mother would be tenderly nurturing her garden, a love shared by all elves with few exceptions. Though Selinth could have grown a beanstalk that reached the heavens through the use of her more than adequate arcane skills, she chose to do it only with hard work and a gentle loving touch. She had little use for magic these days, and rarely practiced the art.
In the days following the Cataclysm, when the gods in their anger had cast the fiery mountain upon the corrupt city of Istar causing horrible destruction and forever changing the face of the world, bands of renegades and mercenaries roamed the lands. Looking for villages to plunder, the lawless men would loot the towns and visit unspeakable horrors upon their inhabitants. Occasionally they would enter the Kelvan woodlands that Selinth called home. Well rehearsed in the magical arts then, she and others in her village with their keen arrows saw to it that few, if any, ever made it out of those woods alive.
It was there that she had met Danthalas’ father, in fact. He had heard the story told by his mother many times of the day when an elven search party had been assembled to find a small girl that had wandered into the woods and had not been seen for several hours. Selinth and her search party had followed the girls trail listening to the trees as they guided them to a large opening at the edge of the forest.
A scream shattered the still air from across the opening. A quick signal from Kehrsi, the leader of the Kelvanwood elves, and the group vanished from sight and silently drew their weapons. The report came down from the trees that a large band of raiders, mostly human, had captured the elven girl and were viciously taunting her but that she was, thus far, unharmed. The bad news was that they were out of accurate bow range and there were too many adversaries to fight in the open field. Should they attempt that, they would all surely be slaughtered.
Kehrsi turned to Selinth with a pleading look. “ What can be done here, Selinth? Perhaps you can…” He was cut short by the grave look on her face. “ I can not cast any spell that would take out enough of them to assist without harming the child.” The decision at hand weighed heavy on Kehrsi’s mind but he knew that he could not return to his people without the child. It wasn’t even an option. As he drew his blade and prepared to sound the charge, it was then that a flash of light appeared in the opposite corner. Accompanying that flash was a booming battle cry, “ Est Solaris Oth Mithas! “. A lone knight, in armor that caught the suns last rays of the day, charged the field on a powerful white horse, quickly closing the gap between himself and what would most certainly be his own death, as the raiders turned to face this shiny, bellowing fool.
Lowering a gleaming lance the knight carefully skewered one of the men and drove his lance into the ground, effectively vaulting himself from his mount and launching him squarely into the chests of several of the men surrounding the girl. The knight then quickly staggered to his feet and regained his wind. He whistled sharply to his horse as it kicked its way through the crowd of raiders trying to subdue the beast. As the horse approached, the knight swiftly grabbed the elven girl and threw her into the saddle. “ Hang on!” he yelled, smacking the horse on its rump. The horse bolted off into the woods crushing an ill-fated raider foolish enough to stand in its path.
The knight, now surrounded by thirty angry raiders, calmly drew his blade and held it out in salute. Knowing his death was coming did not give him the incentive to simply give up. If anything, it gave him the resolve to take as many of these lawless ruffians with him as humanly possible. “You’re gonna pay for killing our mate and losing our entertainment for the evening. “ hissed a filth covered man. Lunging at the knight and swinging wildly the first opponent fell as the knight easily parried the blow and politely removed the head of his attacker. It was then that they fell upon him like an unstoppable wave. Swinging his shield as he thrust his sword he caught what appeared to be a half-goblin under the chin and knocked him back into his fellows while piercing another man through his gut. This strike was to be his last, however, as a rather large man, probably part ogre, slammed the back of the knights helmet with the flat of his blade and the knight pitched forward into two more waiting blades that found their way into the gaps in his armor. He fell two his knees and attempted to raise his sword in a final challenge as the huge man-ogre approached him from the rear and raised his own exceedingly large blade intending to split this annoying humans head in twain.
A whistling pierced the air followed by a quick thock and the man-ogre hit the ground with a boom that resembled the sound of a felled vallenwood tree, an elven arrow protruding from his throat. He never got to deliver his intended blow. Immediately following this occurrence, history repeated itself many times over. More whistling and consequently, even more of the raiders fell to the ground. Before the remaining plunderers could regroup and compose themselves, a burst of flame ignited in their midst setting more than a few of the vandals ablaze. Before they realized that it was not the dense wildflowers flinging the fiery whistling death at them, their numbers had been reduced by more than half. The survivors wisely fled, screaming something about ‘haunted woods’ as they ran.
The knight, still on his knees watched it all unfold as if he were dreaming. “Praise be to Paladin!” he gasped as he fell to the ground and stars flashed in his eyes as he lost consciousness. In his final moments he saw what he surmised to be a beautiful elven woman coming to lead him to the heavens and eternal peace.
This was, of course, not to be the case. There was no love lost between human and elven kind, but after watching the heroic performance displayed by this selfless human, great care was taken to heal him quickly and thoroughly. His actions had resulted in the safety of the child and the victory of the elven search party against an otherwise unbeatable foe. Not to mention the stigma that was forever placed on the Kelvanwood that it was haunted, which all the elves welcomed with grins and winks from that day forward.
Selinth had requested that she be placed in charge of the knights’ care. Kehrsi had granted that request with nary a thought, thinking that no male would want to care for this human and since she was the only female in the search party, that she would naturally be drawn to aid him after watching his heroism. He didn’t, however, expect what was to come.
Through tending to him and giving him almost constant attention, Selinth learned that this man was a knight of the crown, the lowest ranking order in the Solamnic Knights who were not very popular in the dark days following the Cataclysm. She also learned that his name was Thealis and as his health recovered throughout the many weeks of care, the two had grown very fond of each other.
The news of their love was no shock to anyone in the village. It was quite obvious after some time and the two made little effort to hide it. Most frowned upon their relationship but others secretly encouraged their love. Kehrsi was one of these people. He could never openly condone such relations between a wood elf and a human but he had known Selinth for many years as a trusted friend, and had come to respect and admire the Solamnic she had grown to love. This made it very difficult when it was time for Thealis to leave. Selinth knew full well that he could never remain here in the Kelvanwood. The elves would not permit it. She also knew what it meant for her should she choose to remain his lover. She would be forever exiled from the only land she had ever called home.
Dark clouds drifted through the early dawn bringing with it a sorrowful rain. Softly falling on the village of the Kelvanesti it helped to hide the tears shed by most as Selinth said her goodbyes to a people she dearly loved. It was almost as if the whole world wept at the tragic fate that brought two people together in a love that must surely end in despair for the long lived elven woman. A thought that, though chilling, was always forgotten when the two looked at each other. As the early morning mist crept silently through the woods the two set off on life’s journey together.
Danthalas drew a long deep breath as he recalled the story his mother had related so many times. Selinth had never regretted her choice and there was never a time that Danthalas could recall that she did not seem entirely happy with her life. She always had a kind, loving smile that had eased his mind in troubled times. A smile he longed desperately to see on this day.
It had been 20 years since he’d left home to train with the Solamnic knights. Thealis had said that his son had “dallied” around in the mountains long enough and that it was time he made something of himself. Though he was prematurely knighted due to the rumors of the coming war, Danthalas had excelled in all his studies and was more than ready to face the numerous battles he had fought. Several scars marred his otherwise perfect skin ( A gift from his mother ). Each one had a story but not all battle related. Some were attributed to long nights in warm brothels where he frequently had more than his fair share of spirits ( A gift from his father ). Danthalas chuckled at the foggy memory of one scar in particular but the laughter suddenly died in his throat…
A shrill, eerie whistle pierced the silence of the forest below him. A sound that could easily have been made by a bird or other woodland creature. But Danthalas, knowing these woods as well as anyone, and better than most, knew the sound he’d heard had not come from anything that resided here. In his travels, he had come across many bands of raiders, mercenaries and the like. They would often use such whistles to communicate with other members of their party during an attack without drawing unwanted attention to themselves.
Danthalas quickly loosened his sword in its scabbard and, grabbing his longbow, raced down the hill toward his parents dwelling. Scanning the tree line below with his keen elven eyes he cursed his human inheritance of shorter legs. They had served him well but never seemed to move as fast as he would have liked.
He could now see his parents cottage in the distance about three hundred yards ahead and below him in a small opening that overlooked a huge rock cliff. With great dismay he also realized that his earlier assumption had been correct. A large raiding party had surrounded the house in the woods carefully concealed from view. A plan of attack quickly formed in his head but was even more quickly discarded as a blaring horn shattered the air. The attack had been signaled and there was no time for planning now.
Finding his targets as they moved forward, Danthalas recklessly jumped over a rocky embankment and slid down it firing an arrow at an unsuspecting raider from behind. His aim was true and the first opponent fell hard to the ground. Rocks cutting into his legs as he slid, he fumbled clumsily for another arrow. Finding his prize he quickly strung and fired his missile into the leg of another unsuspecting foe. The marauder fell to the ground with a loud groan alerting his fellows to an unexpected visitor at their flanks.
Reaching the bottom of the steep rocky incline, Danthalas stumbled to his feet and fired another projectile at yet another charging attacker. The man dropped instantly and fell upon his own blade as it slipped from his grasp. Quickly drawing his sword he raced to the cottage with several brigands now in tow. Entering the clearing he saw that several of the raiders were now engaged in a battle of steel with an old man who Danthalas vaguely recognized as his father. Though he had aged significantly and only barely resembled the man Danthalas remembered, he was still a force to be reckoned with.
Some sixty years old now, Thealis was still an imposing, muscular figure and had apparently not forgotten how to wield a sword. The raiders were only half-heartedly attacking him, just enough to wear the old man down. They were smart enough to know that his age would catch up with him sooner or later.
Turning to face his own pursuers, Danthalas blocked a vicious blow leveled at his neck. The blade missed its intended mark but sliding off Danthalas’ sword, bit deeply into his thigh. Gasping as the white hot flash of pain was realized, Danthalas brought his own blade back up in a blind rage, beheading the affronter. He parried blow after blow of what seemed like an endless barrage of strikes from three ragged bandits. He was, however, losing ground and was being driven purposefully to the edge of the gaping precipice.
Thealis was beginning to tire. He had taken a glancing blow to his right shoulder and was bleeding profusely from the ensuing wound. He cursed himself for overextending his attack and though he was completely aware of the tactics they were using, was unable to do more than repel the attacks. He was also aware of the young half-elf that had unexpectedly come to his aid but knew the halfling had his own battle to wage and would not be available to assist him any time soon. Thealis knew the conclusion to his own battle would not be long in coming.
Almost sensing their impending victory, the raiders charged the old man in an attempt to knock him off balance and throw off his defensive rhythm. This action resulted in its intended affect. Thealis shuffled backwards and tripped on a large stone beneath his foot. Falling backwards he swung his blade upwards to ward off the expected onslaught but could not block all three of the advances. Cold steel slid smoothly into his chest, stealing away the precious oxygen needed to scream. He crumpled over, looking more like a man should at his age, and fell to the ground.
Seeing his father’s face contort with pain and fall to the ground, Danthalas screamed wildly and swung his sword in a wide arc. The reckless maneuver came as a surprise and knocked two of his attackers off balance. Deftly ducking under the thirds slicing blow, Danthalas pulled a dagger from his belt with his free hand and plunged it into the brute’s torso. Letting go of the dagger he grabbed the back of the mans shirt and pushed with all his rage sending him flying over the brink of the overhang to a crushing death on the jagged rocks below. Danthalas charged wildly at the men responsible for his fathers dissolution. They stood ready for his attack and seemed to eagerly await their next victim.
In the instant their swords met, a brilliant flash of light followed by a fiery explosion lifted Danthalas off his feet and threw him violently backwards, burning his sword arm terribly and scorching his face. Looking up from his back through watery eyes, he saw that one of the raiders had fared far worse than he and was little more than a pile of cinder and ash on the ground. Resuming his scan, his eyes locked on a familiar face that seemed untouched by time. It was that of his mother, Selinth.
Respectfully obeying her husband, she had concealed herself in a small shed behind the house. From her hiding place, she watched in horror as her beloved husband had fallen and had risen to join the battle knowing her own life would be forfeit. She did not know of Danthalas’ arrival and had realized too late his identity, unleashing the powerful
fireball spell.
A great sigh of relief escaped her lips as she saw Danthalas rise and regain some composure. Unfortunately, the remaining three raiders had also regained their feet along with their weapons and now approached the unarmed half-elf. Gritting his teeth attempting to quell the seething pain in his arm and face, he searched frantically for his sword but it had effectively disappeared. Finding a garden stake near him he scooped it up, madly laughing at the futility of such an act. It would do little good against tempered steel but he could not run and leave his mother to the designs of these evil men. After suffering such losses in what should have been easy pickings, these demons would have no aspirations to be merciful.
Danthalas reached for his dagger again, forgetting momentarily that it was lodged deep in a mangled carcass at the bottom of the ravine. Realizing how ridiculous he must look clutching a rickety wooden stake Danthalas conceded the inevitability of his own death but stood defiant as they approached with knowing grins.
They eyed the female elf mage cautiously and spread themselves out, putting Danthalas between them so that she would have to think twice before trying another of her fiery spells. Selinth looked lovingly at Danthalas and smiled that kind, comforting smile that he remembered fondly and had longed so desperately to see. Then she began to chant the ancient words of magic and extended her hand toward Danthalas. Sand slipped from between her knuckles and a look of intense concentration came across her face. At this, the raiders paused in their advance and looked at each other questioningly. Surely she would not destroy her own ally in some magical attempt to annihilate them all. Uncertainty obliged them to either run swiftly away or charge. They chose the latter…
Danthalas felt a dizzy sensation wash over him. Then the very ground on which he stood seemed to begin slipping away. He looked over to his mother and tried to run to her but found that he was effectively paralyzed and could not move or speak. Danthalas watched in slow motion as the raiders moved toward him preparing to deal a painful death to this troublesome halfling. He could see in all directions now as if he were floating above the scene. Though, he could not hear the any sound, he was completely aware of every detail. One detail, in particular, would be the focus of many nightmares from this day forward.
Lost in concentration, Selinth had no knowledge of the man that had snuck up behind her. He had a vengeful look upon his face and an arrow protruding from his right leg. Danthalas tried to cry out a warning to his mother, but no words would come. The man viciously grabbed Selinth by the throat, choking her and cutting off the words as she was reaching the end of her spell. Her eyes flew open with a look of intense terror and her face lost all color. The hand holding her spell components clutched tighter and the sand ran faster from it. Danthalas began to spin uncontrollably and he would undoubtedly have wretched had he had even the most remote ability to do so. Immense pain shot through his body as if he were being pulled in all directions at once. He fought to stay conscious but that was a battle he would soon lose as darkness poured over him erasing sight, sound, touch, smell, taste and then there was nothing...
Selinth dropped the sand and a small dagger attached to a thong on her wrist appeared. Using all her strength she spun wildly and drove the shank deeply into her assailant’s eye socket. Staggering away, she looked desperately around for her son but soon realized that it was, again, too late. Her spell had been miscast…
A lone hawk circled lazily overhead searching for what would most likely be his last meal of the day. Drops of water danced and splashed gleefully from a fountain in a large clearing in the middle of a deep forest. At its base, lay a crumpled man in torn black leggings and scuffed black boots. He stirred at the hooting of a distant owl and rolled over in the soft grass, sandy blonde hair falling away from his face. He slowly opened an eye and suddenly bolted upright as if awakening from a horrific nightmare, hand swiftly reaching to an empty scabbard at his hip. Memory came back in a dam breaking flood and with it the horror of its contents. Danthalas savagely looked around taking in his surroundings. He was at the base of a magnificent fountain in a large open field. Other than that, there were only trees as far as his almond shaped eyes could see. No other being was present and only the sounds of the fountain, a slight breeze and woodland creatures could be heard. It was either early morning or late evening by the look of the sky but he could not actually tell which. Thoroughly confused, he took inventory of himself. Though still a bit foggy he was not in any pain at all. He was wet from head to toe, however, but not in the least bit cold. He looked to his leg where there should have been a ghastly wound but not even a scratch was visible. In fact he had no wounds at all. The burns he sustained from his mothers fireball spell should have, at the very least, left horrible scarring but he could find no evidence of the event. Even the old scars he collected over many years had miraculously healed. He felt incredibly refreshed in all aspects save one. The scar of recent events was one that would never in a thousand lifetimes be healed.
After collecting his thoughts, Danthalas determined that he most certainly must have died. No other feasible possibility could explain his current condition. He walked over to the fountain and, cupping his hands, dipped them into the pool and splashed water on his face. It was cool but refreshing and he drank deeply from it though he was not at all thirsty or even hungry for that matter. Peering into the water he saw three things that he did not expect and only served to confuse matters even more. The first of these was his own reflection. Around his eyes, the skin had darkened forming what resembled a mask. The other two were also reflections. As he looked up into the early morning or late evening sky, depending on which it actually was, he saw two strange moons. One of them was a bright moon that cast its light brilliantly. The other seemed darker than the sky, if that were possible, and did not seem to cast its light so much, but rather seemed to be trying to suffocate the light from other moon. Staring at the two for a lengthy amount of time, he came to a startling conclusion. Danthalas was not sure if he was dead or not. But at least he did now know one thing for certain. He was no longer on Krynn…