Ayrell/Journal

(OOC NOTE: This page is a work in progress that will continue to be added to over time as I am able to work my way through a file of old logs. It is intended as a way to document some events from 2005-2006 as well as a means of just some fun reading, though some of the logs are of personal conversations that would not be public knowledge. For this reason, it is asked that the information on this page be treated as out of character for the sake of preserving the roleplay.)

Written from the viewpoint of Ayrell Evyntine.

Journal Introduction

I have never been much for writing journals, as the details within them can never be guaranteed to remain private. For that reason, I am not entirely sure where to begin. Perhaps with an introduction. My name is Ayrell Evyntine of the Mountain Elves. The year is 441 and I am preparing to present a lecture at the Shoan a Sidelkuloa theater in Shard as part of my History on the Rooftop series. This will not be the first lecture I have given there, though it will be the first time I have presented a lecture based on my own personal experiences rather than the notes and documentations written in the history books by others. For that reason, I am struggling somewhat with how to put my experiences into words. One does not see and endure the things an adventurer sees and endures without the mind stepping in at some point to try and dull the horrific memories for the sake of sanity and self-preservation. This coping mechanism, however, has a tendency to leave certain memories hazy. Somewhat garbled, in places. But there are those I recall with absolute clarity. Memories I am not certain I could ever truly forget. And it is those memories that I seek to put into writing now so that I may find a way to organize them in a manner that is at least... mostly cohesive. Once I have done that, I will perhaps find myself with an organized set of notes from which I can draw inspiration for my upcoming lecture.

But, where to begin? A bit of backstory about me, perhaps? Not too much, as the history of how I came to leave Elamiri and join the Warrior Mage Guild is not one I speak of lightly, nor would I dare place it into writing, in case this journal were to fall into curious hands. But there is a point in time of which I believe I can safely begin. That time being when I first ventured back to Ilithi after years as an initiate within my guild. I was 49 years, the year... 375. Young, by Elven standards, yet I found myself recruited into the military Ilithi in the months leading up to what is known to history as the Outcast War. I recall quite well how it happened. I was still a young mage, testing my combative abilities against the snowbeasts in the Dragon Spine Mountains when I suddenly found myself overwhelmed, taking hits, and suffering blows from which I struggled to recover. I was convinced I would meet my demise when a kind Elven gentleman by the name of Fierolan Vanyahin stepped in and rescued me, leading me to safety, as well as a healer south of the city, near the Whistling Woods at an area known to the locals as the Hollow. While there, we began to converse. I learned that Fierolan was a Commander with the Ilithi military, heading a unit known as the Ilithi Mountain Guard. Before the conversation was over, Fierolan convinced me that my combative abilities could be put to good use as a member of his unit and I pledged myself to the cause that same day. As the war went on, Fierolan and I came to be friends. Kin, in the sense that we discovered our shared heritage through the Mountain Clan that brought us closer together as loyal subjects of Her Majesty, Queen Morganae Sunderstone. I worked hard and eventually earned myself the honor to call myself lieutenant of the Ilithi Mountain Guard. I was granted my own unit, which I led proudly, alongside my fellow lieutenant, Xand Duchet. We were a force to be reckoned with - but not strong enough, it seemed, as inevitably we found ourselves on the losing end of the battle. The Outcasts arose victorious and Shard no longer felt like home. Many of us scattered in the aftermath. Personally, I spent some years hiding away at Chyolvea Tayeu'a, as did a few others of my acquaintance. Eventually, I travelled away, seeking refuge from the painful memories of the war. It was then that I received a missive from Fierolan advising that he had tendered his resignation as Commander of the Ilithi Mountain Guard. He went on to speak of his new position, as that of Consul for Her Majesty, Queen Morganae herself. He offered me to take his place as Commander, an honor of which I was more than happy to accept. I even went so far as to send word to him of my immediate return to Shard, only to then fall ill a few days later, leaving me unable to make the journey.

It wasn't until around the year of 382 that I was again well enough to travel the road to Shard. My first order of business upon arriving was to seek Fierolan out and inform him of my return. We met at Milene's Rose, a place that had become like a second home to us during the war. It was where everything of importance to us took place back then. It was there that I accepted his offer to join the Ilithi Mountain Guard. It was there where I accepted his offer of promotion to lieutenant. And it was there that we reunited. Two old friends, returned to each other's lives, once again able to freely roam the streets of Shard without threat of Outcasts at every turn. While at Milene's, it seemed our thoughts had been overheard on the gwethdesuan, through which we had arranged our meeting. Our location was no secret, and we were soon joined by another fellow Mountain Elf by the name of Xelten Tyrsin. An associate of Fierolan's, who claimed that he had heard so many good things about me from the Consul that he simply could not pass up the opportunity to meet me himself. Flattery, surely, but the introduction was one that holds significance to the course of events that transpired after that night, therefore it feels an important detail to include at this point in the story.

Over the next few weeks, I began to settle back into my residency in Shard. Fierolan and I spoke often, conversations through which I learned that he had been tasked with a special mission by Her Majesty. Information gathering. Covert, of course. Whispers were rampant in the streets about necromancers, the city of Crossing suffering invasions of undead on a somewhat regular basis. My return was too recent, too new, to allow me to be of much assistance in his mission, but I offered to do what I could to help, in service to our queen.

And that is where this history truly begins.

Life in Shard was an adjustment after so long away. It was pure happenstance that another old friend of mine happened to have returned to the area as well... Hmm. Did I say friend? Perhaps acquaintance would be a better description of my association with the S'Kra Mur Moon Mage known as Smozh Zharhhtha. Our paths had crossed on several occasions, our identities known to one another. As our interactions had never been unfriendly, I viewed him as someone intelligent, capable of intriguing debate... and entirely lacking in ability to speak the Common tongue. Discourse with him required the use of lunar magic. Thoughtcasts. Telepathic links. Or, on a good day, a translator.