Diary of a Woodland Rogue -Rith'tera's Journal

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WhiskeyGuy
Posts: 61
Joined: Thu Aug 03, 2017 9:49 pm

Diary of a Woodland Rogue -Rith'tera's Journal

Post by WhiskeyGuy » Wed Sep 13, 2017 10:25 pm

This book has seen better days, it's covers are quite tattered, and it's binding is broken in a few places. Inside it the first quarter of the pages are handwritten in a fine hand, and seem to be part journal, part letters, rather than one contiguous story.
Well, I've carried this thing around for years, too many to count. My Grandmother gave it to me, and I stuck all her letters in it. It was her "Adventure Journal", from when she intended to leave our little community and make it on her own. Long story short, she met a man, got married, had children and forever wished she did all the things she wrote about in this book. We used to talk all the time of the things she wanted to do, and it made me sad. She loved her family, but always felt she wanted to do "more". I told her a long time ago, I won't let things get in my way. I'll find a way to get out into the world and see things, do things. I'll do all the things she wanted to.

When she died, they found a letter attached to this journal. It was addressed to me, and she wanted me to have the diary so I wouldn't ever forget to chase my dreams.

I am Rith'tera, Grandaughter to Una'tera, daughter to Lorai and Kee'shan. We lived in a community in the Moonwood, not far from Silverymoon in the Silver Marches. Well, sometimes we weren't far, others we were quite far indeed. Our village, for lack of a better term, moved around a lot, in search of prey for food, but also following the orcs and the Malarites that made the forest their home. For some reason, eons ago, the elders of our village made a vow to fight them at every turn, and stem the tide of their curse from affecting other more civilized areas. My father felt very strongly about this tradition, and instilled it in my brothers, and, to some extent, me. From birth, I wasn't a girly, flighty elf. I was more serious, less trusting, and more in tune with the world around me, facts not lost on my Father, who taught me to fight, to shoot, and to track. He also taught me to hide when need be. Sure, I could never really be a Guardian, but I could help. I'd not call myself a Ranger even... I like the term "Woodland Rogue".

It came as little surprise that as I grew into adulthood, I argued with the adults more, about things that existed outside our little world. I insisted we should change with the times, grow, prosper even. It all fell on deaf ears. I didn't want us to become City Elves, merely adapt our ways so we could attract more kin to our cause. Still they insisted on the old ways. One winter, we lost a few adults and many children to starvation and disease, and while we were weakened, the Malarites came and took many more. My immediate family was spared, but I recall having to kill my own kinsmen on the following moon. This I will never forget.

Finally, being our community was smaller, and therefore weaker, the elders decided the unthinkable. They would move to Silverymoon, and expected us all to join them. Well, this of course was a shock, and not something I agreed with. From one extreme to the other, with nothing in the middle. I said my goodbyes and set off to finish this book. I saw no way I could keep my word to Grandmother in Silverymoon.

WhiskeyGuy
Posts: 61
Joined: Thu Aug 03, 2017 9:49 pm

Re: Diary of a Woodland Rogue -Rith'tera's Journal

Post by WhiskeyGuy » Sun Sep 17, 2017 3:02 pm

Continuing from above. So, I get my things, all maybe four of them. I had a decent quality bow,
an old rapier, good boots, and a single set of leathers. Sure, I had this book too, and some other,
random items of a more personal nature not intended for survival. I kept my pack light, took enough water for a few days, and rations for about that long.

Then, I said my goodbyes, and I left. Sure, most were disappointed in me, or just that I was leaving.
Many were confused, which was the general tone in our village now that moving closer to a city has been announced. I assured my family I would send word as I traveled, and, being that the world is not quite so savage as to not have messengers, I will.

I walked for days, along the way, I hunted, and I slept under the stars. It was, in a word, exhilarating. I depended on no one, and listened only to my heart and my mind to know what to do. No Elders telling me to give up this life. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and before I knew it, I had traveled out of the Moonwood, through the Lurkwood, into the Crags, along the base of the Sword Mountains, and along the Coastline all the way to Waterdeep. A distance of about four hundred and fifty miles. I moved slowly, camped often, and enjoyed every moment. I met people along the way too. A small troupe of Dwarves headed to Mithral Hall, some Wood Elves in the Lurkwood who took me in for a bit. A group of young adventurers in the Crags even shared the path with me for a few days.

Of course, not all of my journey was beautiful. I encountered bandits a time or two, orcs more times than I can recall, and even wild gnomes, and a few aggressive wild animals. Certainly ogres and giants, but, in most cases, I simply hid or escaped. A good Woodsman knows when to run, and when to stand and fight. I was no match for a bird, squirrel, or a rabbit at this point, but, even a small wolf might hurt me badly enough I couldn't continue, so I stayed safe.

Some think it's a small miracle I made it to "civilization". Based on the stares and looks I received walking into Waterdeep, apparently few do as I have done. Their loss. While I can appreciate a nice warm bath, cushy pillows and warm blankets as much as the next person, there was something very foreign to me about walking through cobbled streets, brushing past the busy denizens of a bustling city. I felt out of place. I felt like I had entered another world, one that I didn't truly belong in. I found a small Inn, not far from the main City Gates, and sat at a table in the corner. I ordered some stew, which was the only thing on the menu, and some mead, for they didn't have any wine. The waitress did her best to hide her surprise at my appearance, and was kind enough, given the situation. She inquired as to my situation for lodging, and I asked if they had any rooms, to which she smiled, and brought me a key. The room cost only a few gold coins, and I had more than enough for a year's stay should I have wanted to.

The room itself was small, but had a window overlooking the street. The bed was obviously intended for one person, the wardrobe might hold four hanging outfits, and in the corner, a small writing desk and chair. Behind a small screen, making the room even smaller was a washtub. This, of all the things in the room, was my favorite. I hadn't had a hot bath in months, though of course I soaked in rivers, ponds, and even streams, it's simply not the same. One creature comfort I allow myself, and to be honest, enjoy immensely.

And so I stayed in Waterdeep for a time, a month, maybe two. I wandered her streets, watched her drunk revelers, saw the shady back-alley deals, observed ladies of the night plying their trade, and even watched cutpurses employing their skills. Through all this, I watched. I never stopped any of them, never gave a judging eye. I just watched.

I one day found an elf, sitting in the gutter, obviously down on his luck. He was filthy, hair disheveled and his clothes in disarray. I approached and asked if he was alright. His eyes, tired and weak, tried to smile to me. I would imagine I looked quite the vision to him, an Elf in a city of Humans, clean, and fresh-smelling as I was as well. He extolled to me a story of woe, of heartache, and of victimization, and to me, I was reminded just how lucky I was. His plight was similar to my own, left home to seek his own way, wanting a different life. Sadly for him, along the way, he was mugged, his wife was killed, and he was dumped in the City by brigands not three days before. Feeling sorry for a kinsman, I sat near him for a while, and in the end, pushed a small bag of perhaps two score gold pieces into his hands. I then went on my way.

I found him again, later that day in a pub, well, nearly out of the pub as he was being forcibly removed due to overintoxication. I learned a lesson that day: Trust no one. Even kin can lie, cheat and steal.

I never forgot that lesson, and it's served me well to this day.

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