Anphillia Exodus

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 A Dark Past

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Join date : 2009-05-17
Age : 34
Location : California, USA

A Dark Past Empty
PostSubject: A Dark Past   A Dark Past Icon_minitimeTue Jun 16, 2009 10:51 pm

Val Te’Quenthal is an elf wishing to escape his past. Originally named Valesylivin Terenthial Quenthal, Val decided to change his name to make it easier to convey to the many folks he would meet upon his journey, and as a symbolic representation of his desire to become a new elf.
In the High Forest there existed a kingdom ruled by elves called, Eaerlann. Eaerlann was constantly at battle with its fellow inhabitants of the High Forest. Gnolls, orcs, centaurs, satyrs, and even some drow, were a constant thorn in the sides of the inhabitants of the kingdom of Eaerlann. Many centuries ago after years of turmoil and the discouragement that these constant raids created, the majority of the inhabitants of Eaerlann decided they had had enough, and that it was time to join the retreat to Evermeet. However, since this time some elves have remained, entertaining a desire of a reunited High Forest, under the rule of the Kingdom of Eaerlann. Many elves have tried in vain to unite the remaining elves of the High Forest in hopes of retaking her lands from the lawless clutches of the myriad tribes of gnolls, crcs and other lesser inhabitants of the forest. One of these elves was, Rellithuil Terenthial Quenthal, the older brother of Valesylivin. Rellithuil had a fallowing of fifty devoted elves, sympathizers of his ambition to reclaim the High Forest. Utmost of his devoted followers was his brother, Valesylivin. Valesylvin looked up to his brother, and trusted and believed in him with all his heart and soul. The brothers were famed throughout the High Forest as the two most accurate elves to have ever blessed a bow with their skilled hands. They worked as a team perfectly, two separate entities united to create one seamless force; often felling entire Orc raid parties themselves while patrolling the lands they so loved. They were inseparable, were one was seen, it could unequivocally be concluded that the other was close by.
Then, one beautiful clear star filled night, a drow raiding party spewed from the bowls of the underdark, unto the untainted surface of the High Forest. One high priestess of Lloth, one house weapon master, and seven highly skilled drow warriors stalked the cool breezy night without a sound. Their steps were not light enough to evade the keen senses of Rellithuil. Rellithuil gestured to his brother that he should come near.
“What is it Re?” asked Valesylivin nervously.
“Something is not right, listen. The night is too quite. Something is afoot.” Replied Rellithuil with his eyes gazed outward towards the distant unseen sections of the forest.
“What do you think it is brother?” Valesylivin whispered, staring in the direction of Rellithuils eyes.
“Only one thing causes the forest to silence in such a manner, drow.” Just as Rellithuil uttered the word, a crossbow quarrel thudded into the tree inches from his head.
In an instant, Tillenthul and Tillenthal, the famous bows of Rellithuil and Valesylvin, twang in a harmonious sing song, sending arrow after arrow in the direction from which the quarrel had come. Without hesitation the brothers sprang into their usual battle action, circling about sending arrow after arrow in all directions at anything that hinted to move. But, their usual battle action, would not due for Drow. Quarrel after quarrel zipped in at the brothers, each one closer and closer to their mark. Then, as if appearing from the dark of night itself, the priestess of Lloth glided from the veil of darkness, already in the throws of an incantation.
“Run, warn the others! I’ll hold her off!” Rellithuil yelled to his brother as he sent an arrow towards the white eyelash, of the left eye, of the drow priestess, forcing her to interrupt her spell casting.
Without hesitation, and with the obedience only a younger brother can posses, Valesylvin looked one last time into the emerald green eyes of his brother, and turned and ran to warn their kin. He would never see his brother again. Valesylvin returned to the exact tree that still had the crossbow quarrel at eye level with fifty elven warriors. No sign of the drow or Rellithuil remained. The guilt of leaving his brother continues to tear at the gut of Valesylvin ever since he left his brother that night to the mercy of the drow priestess.
The band of followers, devoted to the cause of restoring Eaerlann, soon disbanded. They would have gladly supported Rellithuil’s younger brother, but Valesylvin was too stricken with guilt to feed himself, let alone lead a band of warriors in the reestablishment of the Eaerlann kingdom. Valesylvin returned to the tree with the crossbow quarrel, where he had last looked into the fiery eyes of his brother. There he buried Tillenthul and Tillenthal, swearing never to return again. Val headed west, towards the Sea of Swords, and Waterdeep, in a search for a new beginning, and a place to lose his past. After many years meandering up and down the coast of the Sea of Swords, Val has found himself on the island of Anphillia, fighting a war, in hopes that it will distract him from the nagging guilt and haunting nightmares.

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