Bright as a new Pin

Dearest Caroline,

I am writing to you now from the common room of the 'Sleeping Dragon' Inn, in the village of Valorian's Vale. It's a small, quiet, yet industrious place about a weeks' march from the other side of the Crystal Forest, in Nektaria. Yes, I have come a long way from our little glade, haven't I?

The people here are pleasant, if a little distraught [more on this later], and for such a small place, they have a solid representation of all the gods. Of course, Our Lady of the Weave is also here. One of her acolytes keeps an altar about a mile outside of the village gates. Strangely, she did not even acknowledge her fellow Sister ; it seemed as though she did not even recognize that I am also a priestess of Mystara. No matter ; she was cordial enough, and very informative.

My goodness, these people have no end of problems! The ever-present scourge of filthy goblins and kobolds is here too, unfortunately, and in great numbers [rest assured, I am avenging those many deaths of our brothers and sisters as best I can]. It would be enough if this village's problems ended there ; but no, there are many more! Missing mayors and functionaries ; farmers and their wives falling sick to plagues, whilst their farms are burrowed out from under them by giant ants ; and severe problems with the dead not staying dead. 'Ah ha!' said I, 'this looks like a place I could make myself useful!' You remember I had a certain talent for that, back in our little vale. But Caroline, things are different here! Whatever evil is behind these undead, it is strong ; why, I shone forth with all the light of Mystara, and... NOTHING! The dead continued to walk [and to swing mightily at me] as though I had simply curtsied and bid them a 'how d'you do'!

Thank goodness I've also run into friends here. For example, there was a dwarf named 'Farrod' – mighty with an axe, as any good dwarf should be. His father sent him away on a meaningless quest in order to get him far away from his new wife! Can you believe it? Well, I'm grateful that he was here. Together, we tried to stem the rising tide of undeath that threatens this poor vale. ...and together we fell - many times. But I tell you, Caroline, I have not met a braver man! It is obvious that some of the skeletons harrowing this vale were seasoned warriors in life, and some of them stand twice as tall as I! But Farrod showed no fear – he went after them with a grim determination that split bone from bone many times over, whilst I tried my best to help with summonings and my bow.

Now I have some news for you : it is true, Caroline! The legend is true, the drow really do exist! And a fiendish lot they are, too. I know, as I have seen them. I was in the company of a warrior named [of all things] 'Magesbasher'! He told me in no uncertain terms that he harbored no love for the practitioners of magic. When I discretely mentioned that I also am a follower of the ways of Mystara, he amended his words to say that he was most vigilant against those who use magic for evil ends. By the gods, Caroline, he was fearful! He wields a huge scythe with a blade as big as me, veritably humming with magical power! I have seen him wade into a group a dozen of would-be foes – all armed to the teeth! – and harvest them like so much wheat! Three at one single blow fell before his rage, I have seen it, Caroline! But you know what, he has a heart of pure gold. I, for one, am only too glad he is on our side!

So. Now I shall rest. As you can well imagine, it has been a long few weeks, and there are even longer ones ahead. I am comforted in this turmoil by the knowledge and faith in the rightness of my path, and pleased that Mystara has chosen me for our special mission, and that she continues to watch over me in my travels. I am determined to learn all of Her secrets, and to face whatever dangers may oppose me, but rest content in the faith that She will reveal all to me as and when she believes I am ready.

Your Sister in the light of Mystara,
Pin

P.S.- Please tell Master Yuen that I am putting his teachings to good use. Though I may not have been his most apt pupil, his training was not in vain! For without it, I would be talking with Zolaras now, rather than you.
P.P.S.- and you can tell Trudy Wisemouth that, no, I did not serve as an hors d'oeuvre for some troll a scant 5 minutes' walk outside the Silver Glade.

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OOC: thanks everyone for a great welcome to this server! had a blast.
also, i hope i remembered the names right ; after my reinstall, i forgot to edit my player.ini so i didn't have any logs to fall back on.
finally, if my character shows up on your screen in-game as 'the hood', you can download her portrait pack here.

'Excuse me, sorry to bother. Is this the potluck benefit for the Church of Asis?'

The drow were startled from their entertainment for the briefest of moments. Who in the hells was this lost little girl of a gnome standing there in her gown before them, darkening the doorway to their communal chamber? No matter, she would soon join the rest of their sacrifices ; Sorgath was a hungry god, and even if this one were just a mouthful, it would be fitting to spill her pitiful blood in the name of the serpent god. With a snarl, they drew their swords and charged her en masse.

The young woman braced herself, then maneuvered into position as they closed around her. All at once she seemed a lot less innocent than she had a moment before ; the blade which had suddenly appeared in her hand reinforced the idea.

She whirled and spun, bringing swift death to the men trying to surround her, now with her blade, now with fire, blinding them with blood and with light. She used her sixth sense deftly, intuiting where their bodies were and where their blows would land, even when she couldn't see them, avoiding their strikes with cool intensity when they managed to get behind her. They gained no advantage ; their sneaking, venomous thrusts met only empty air, while hers bit deeply into their lightly armored bodies.

In a few moments, it was all but over. There was one left, one who had run from her as he had met her blade and seen all of his comrades cut to ribbons before him, cowering in the corner of the room, trying frantically to staunch his wounds. He cried out as she approached him, resolve graven behind her eyes. 'No! No! Please, I beg of you!' This was uncharacteristic of the demon elves, she reflected -- unless... she wondered if it might just be some sort of trick. Yet another trick...

'Oh, you beg, do you?'

'Yes! Spare me! Spare me, and I... I... shall bring word to my Valsharess!' the elf finished quickly.

'Bring word? What would you tell her? What could you possibly say that would stay her from her course of mad, miserable destruction?' The drow warrior only drew away from her, not witting a reply. It was obvious this gnome knew more about their kind than he'd thought.

'Bring word... very well. You will bring her this word: Tilfendell. You may tell her to remember Tilfendell Vale! And the legion of Goblins she sent against it. Got it?' The dark elf nodded. 'Good. Now, take it to her. Take it to her in the hells -- may she rot there for all eternity!' With one clean stroke she cut off his head and sent it rolling along the ground.

She felt no revulsion as she watched the head roll to a stop against the jamb of the door, and this suddenly seemed strange to her. Her entire childhood she'd been taught that peace was the way toward life, and that violence begat only more violence, and misery. But their cries ran again through her head like an awful litany accompanying her grim purpose, those fair voices from those many years ago, all of them cut so brutally short. They, too, had begged for mercy -- though none had received it. And they'd all perished -- all 132 of them, to the last man, woman, and suckling child, all lain open to the sun and left there to rot.

'All except one,' she finished aloud. The only one in a village of 130, the only one to dig the graves and pray over them, and to remember them, and to hallow them -- and to take up their cause -- her cause -- after their murderers had left, continuing on to spread further misery and despair. She knew their hearts, she held their memories. She had told them she would remember them and their love, and enact the justice they could not.

'...And I swore to you it would be so.'