Lobelia, of Yondalla's Children

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Ribbons of Light
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Lobelia, of Yondalla's Children

Post by Ribbons of Light » Tue Jul 24, 2018 5:04 pm

Ches 21. 142 of Arelith Reckoning

When I was still a girl, our twenty wagon caravan settled outside a small hin settlement in the Purple Marshes, and a priestess of our Mother approached from the endless lavender meadows. Her hair was long and braided, golden like the wheat in the field. She was wearing loose fitting green robes and a saffron cloak swept back and forth in the chilly autumn wind, adorned with a shield decorated with a cornucopia. “Happy Safeday” she said, and introduced herself as mayor and Exalted Protector Poppaea.

We parked our wagons and let the oxen and ponies graze in offered fence confines, and followed the Exalted Protector around the quiet little town, as she gushed about how wonderful it was to have us as guests. You could smell the sweet pastries and glazed ham prepared in the kitchens that morning, and watch a few church members knock and signal the community it was time to meet in the square.

It didn’t matter we were not residents, us dusty little caravan hin with calloused hands. Merchants of all races had lined up to join along with Safeday, many gnomes, a few dwarves and humans, and an elf or two. We all marched as one, a light hearted patrol around the village, with any stray creatures quick to fall away as we walked leafy dirt roads underneath the trees that had shed them to fall.

And then we returned to the village square, and feasted, food passed around and around the table as stories were exchanged real and far-fetched, but the most memorable was told by the Exalted Protector, the Fall of Meiritin, a hinterland abandoned not far south of the Purple Hills, suffering so much from the cruelty of ambitious tyrants, brigands, and slavers that the people chose to abandon. Her eyes looked down and sullen, and not a whisper was had on the side by any attendee, all glued to her tale of the loss of this beautiful hinterland. “Remember the lesson of Meiritin. Strength lies in togetherness, not solidarity.” She then announced she was stepping down as the mayor, to take a pilgrimage to the land, along with any disciples that wished to follow the path of the clergy.

At the sighs and sorrow of the crowd, she reminded them of the importance of cycling crops so the land may thrive and the danger of power concentrated in one soul for too long. Her forehead creased and her eyes twinkled with warmth and tears as she embraced brother and sister, neighbor and stranger, and me. Her grasp was so warm and welcoming, as if I could feel the Mother’s own hands on me.

She then asked to borrow one of our caravan’s wagons for a journey, and if any of our own caravan wished to become her disciple. That was the most special Safeday for me, for it was the last I would share with my parents, as I packed my things and boarded the Exalted Protector’s wagon, to venture into backroads and lands unknown and breathlessly beautiful. My dream was forged, to be a leader just like her of a hin village someday, to have that same inspiring aura and motherly love, and to prevent tragedies like Meiritin. But little did I know how much more growing pains I would need to go through first.

After a year went by, full of exciting discoveries, tales, and breathless sights that I hope to someday detail here, the Exalted Protector heralded the three of us who joined her Blessed Sisters, the lowest rank amongst the priesthood. And in front of a wayside shrine, to stone carved into her image, we gave our oaths to her. To love. To cherish. To protect. To provide. To lead by example. To treasure and know thy family.

We journeyed back to the settlement, and tearfully parted, one of us continuing to stay and assist the Exalted Protector, and I the other Blessed Sister finding a place that needed Yondalla’s voice, becoming much like Wayward Wardens. Soon my companion chose to remain unattached, preserving her status as a wayward and we separated before I sailed into the sea, but I continued to trek and journey, until the Mother showed me Bendir.

What a lush land! Farms on the outskirts growing stalks of corn dotted with apple trees. A gentle river cutting through, and burrows and militia ready to defend, and shrines dedicated to Yondalla’s Children, yet no priest of our Mother to lead them. And yet too like Meiritin, peril looming out the gates, and a little too much human influence to my liking, near, below, and afar.

And I have met such wonderful people who I have formed friendships with! Sister Miku, who has grown from a timid maid to a confident, catty kindred, so empathetic and loving. I was so afraid when she became connected to panthers that my friend was lost in her changes, but she showed me that true friendship endures change. There is sister Kit, with the cutest little badger companion always by her feet and in her pack. There is sister Siloh, who I truly believe will be the light of our people with her insight and mastery of when and how to speak. There is sister Shenn, a former slave who found freedom, and I hope now purpose. Brother Drago, whose convictions to duty and our people are unbending. And then there is Sir Peregrine, my love and inspiration.

The community is large, full of many other significant people to the populace. Eager to begin the work on my dream, I had made the controversial decision of running in the recent election, and I learned the hard way how people feel about sudden uncertainty. I was treated terribly as some let fear take their hearts, exacerbated by the tensions in Cordor and elsewhere. Sister Miku begged and begged for me to desist my attempt, futile as it was, fearful for my wellbeing, but I am happy I saw it through to the end. I have learned much of the good and ill of my kin, of their unease, of their desire to see proof and commitment.

Now, after the election’s tensions have eased with sister Kera as the face of the village, I replace my passions completely into the Mother’s Church, to learn about my neighbors and family, and carry the promises I have given to the mother upon becoming a Blessed Sister. I will continue to strive to one day be that face of this beautiful village, just as Exalted Protector Poppaea was of one. Maybe it is a silly dream, a star too high for my little hands to reach. Maybe I am naïve. But my love drives me, as does the Mother, and for both, I would never desire to disappoint.

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Re: Lobelia, of Yondalla's Children

Post by Ribbons of Light » Fri Aug 03, 2018 6:01 pm

Kythorn 24. 142 of Arelith Reckoning

Meiritin. It was hard to imagine that hinterland had once been the home of our people. The hills were steep, and we had to make sharp turns at time to avoid pits, ruts, and sliding down a hill. The land overgrown by flowers and wild mushrooms, and there was only the rare passing farm where we stopped to trade for goods, a small hovel with plenty of tree cover to hide his dwelling from hill giants.

Aspodel, the eldest of us three disciples at 20 years of age, who later stayed with the Exalted Protector when our journey was over, had some dye made for her hair with the materials purchased. Her hair was a fine ruby red, but the Exalted Protector informed us that all priests of Yondalla, male or female, had their hair dyed blonde or a hue near that of saffron, just like the Mother. She was a bit sour over the affair for a few days, considering her beauty diminished, something she took great pride in, until the Exalted Protector gifted her with a ruby bandana that lifted her spirits. Merla, the youngest disciple at just nineteen, and myself, just shy of twenty, were already graced with the Mother’s hue of hair, and did not receive any dye.

We each had robes made for us, woven by the Protector herself, at the same time she gave us sermons, stories, and taught us her values, always in the morning and afternoon. The Green and Saffron of the robes was to embody the cornucopia, and the Shield always readily available, to protect our people. Around her neck she showed us an animal horn, and taught us that it was our faith’s holy symbol, connecting to the symbolism of the cornucopia. She asked that we one day craft our own of either type. We nodded, eager to have our own someday, though I have yet to do this for myself.

She taught us the traditional arms, a short sword, though we noted she did not keep one on her person, but only in a wooden display case on a shelf she removed to show us. Instead, the Protector had a long dagger that was attached to her hip. We asked her why, and she gave a little smile, and that the answer will be revealed when it was time.

The Exalted Protector was very strict about us staying in the wagon when it got dark. I and the two other disciples stayed inside, the lights darkened to not attract any of the hill giants. We shared stories, played games, gossiped about family and village boys in whispers and giggles. Sometimes we were a little too loud, and the Exalted Protector hushed us, and we would pull open the wagon’s window curtain to peer out into the hilly forest to see a giant moving in the distance. We’d quickly close it, and then lift it to the side just so we could peek and watch it move about, looking for prey. The Protector would slow down the wagon a little, and even though the beast was too far away to hear us breathe, we held our breaths until it turned away.

One night we were not so lucky. The cart had hit a rough pit in the road, causing the items inside to give a bit of a clang and wake us from our sleep. Merla cracked a joke that the ruckus must have been someone’s snoring. Aspodel was groaning about how hard it was to sleep when the cart hit every pit and rut. And I was about to put in my own little whine to echo when the Exalted Protector shouted to get down. We hardly registered her words when a boulder slammed against the wagon’s wall, knocking all three of us down and causing the wagon to stop entirely. We all crawled towards the window, peeling the curtain to see another hill giant out at an uncomfortably short distance, moving to pick up another boulder. And there, hands waving in the air, chanting as she walked, was the Exalted Protector advancing fearlessly towards the creature.

None of us had ever seen battle before. Those not of age were always scuttled away when a threat was imminent, and Arvoreen’s Marchers of the Purple Hills were vigilant against enemies, especially now when they were bolstered by Yondalla’s Hornguards. We gasped as we saw the boulder tossed her away, thrown in the air as if it was light as a feather, but soaring at the speed of a pebble. We all rushed out of the wagon then, grabbing warslings, untrained in spells and blessings still, to aid the Exalted Protector.

But High Priestess Poppaea had already handled the situation. Her chant complete, a string of light encircled the giant and made its limbs seemingly frozen. Within seconds her dagger was pulled from her hip, and we watched it enter the creature, and take its life. That was the first time I have seen life taken away.

We approached our next lesson with an air of gravity and respect as we listened to her talk. No side conversations, no grumbling about ruby hair now blonde, but truly entranced as she spoke about the special meaning of her dagger. It was the weapon of choice for the faith of Dallah Thuan, the Lady of Mysteries, Yondalla’s other half. It was important for us to know both, for all of our prayers, our spells were heard by both, granted by one or the other, the same. We followed and served both, and there was little way to discern a priest of Yondalla from a proper priest of Dallah save admittance, and meant little. She told us we were all too sweet and soft, but there may come a time where we will have to fill in absence of a proper representative, to protect our people by assisting those who would seek out in justice against those who were cruel to our people.

“But what if it is one of our own people who are being cruel to others of our kind?” Aspodel asked.

The Exalted Protector approached the question with an air of solemnness. Sometimes kin stray, and walk away from Yondalla’s teachings. “It is therefore, important that her values are ingrained in life, to the community at large, and the community is tight knit, without excluding a soul.” But when the teachings truly failed, it was us that would be first ready to bring them back when their hand stretched out, and to warn those they angered that not even the lost cease to be kin. A true mother's love is unconditional, no matter how spurned.

She then taught us the various services we should strive to provide to inspire good values, lessons of collective and self-defense, concealment, agriculture, brewing, wine-making, gardening, and cooking, and that our spells were welcome to be used to demonstrate and enhance those activities. To bring communities together through regular feasts, revels, and celebrations. To oversee the fields and burrows, to be secular leaders and religious authorities, to officiate weddings (No true marriage was true without a cleric of Yondalla’s blessing), and funerals, often in conjunction members of Urogalan’s clergy. Every sphere of hin life was touched, save thievery.


Now, I think of my time in Bendir presently, and how difficult it is to focus on every single one of those lessons of the Exalted Protector in Bendir. Time is a precious commodity, and to have a moment of peace to focus on these tasks is rare. At the heart is a battle against division that everyone wishes to tear down, but no one knows how. At the center of this division, is the stance on Peregrine, my love. Some loath him so much they call him false-paladin, others believe he acts just like one. It, and so many other issues have created a fissure that may not yet be healed until the outcome of this is determined.

I do not know what the gods think. But I pray my people do not exile one of Arvoreen’s champions lightly, not one that saved the village from much worse. I question if my love places blinders over my eyes as much as his naysayer’s pride places blinders over theirs. We will see. May the Mother help see an end to this feud, with a resolution just for all.

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Re: Lobelia, of Yondalla's Children

Post by Ribbons of Light » Thu Sep 06, 2018 5:30 pm

Flamerule (Summertide) 143, of Arelith Reckoning

The sun rose too early, its light like a buzzing bee to my sight as the rays coated my bed in unwelcome greeting. Getting up was a chore, I could feel the weight of getting few hours of sleep make my movements sluggish as I made my way to Yondalla’s altar down the stairs, careful not to wake the snoring panther-shifted Miku.

I can’t help but lift my head during Morning Prayer and gaze out towards the sun. Despite its insistent reminder to attend the church’s ritualistic Morning Prayer, the way it cast its glow was beautiful. Was my beloved looking into the same dawn horizon? I could almost feel him, almost see him. But then the image of his name amongst those unwelcome and barred for a year now, panged my heart.

The Dale could use his sword more than ever. Necromancers, demons, gnolls, kobolds, drow, and demons. There is no shortage of specters threatening the peace of our treasured home, and yet the most troubling troubles are within. Be it born of misunderstanding, fear, distrust, or worse, working with the current administration has been difficult and a battle all on its own. My resolve has been tried and tested, and I am grateful my laughs in fleeting moments of peace have not yet become forced.

To aid our current ails, several new Hawk’in have risen and emerged to help. To fill the hole the absence of my beloved has left behind, I have vigorously buried myself into service, recruiting and training them ambitiously. There is a lot more work to do than I thought in such militant affairs. There is the education, the equipping, the demonstrations, the group efforts, checking in, and the paper work, the reporting, the investigating, and following up.

I didn’t expect the route to my dreams to go through this road. The elder was right when she said it was more about the journey, not the destination. Through all the toil, grief, loss, and hardship, I’ve met such wonderful people and forged strong bonds. Yet I can’t wait to reach the destination, and see what the next journey holds. I have faith that you, Mother Yondalla, will guide me, and that your wisdom, Exalted Protector, will be with me. I’ve even finally finished a holy necklace, and I feel so much more at peace now that I have finished it.

I have a sermon to finish preparing, tests to plan out, notebooks to fill, and maybe, just maybe if I can sneak it in, a few more moment of sleep to a loudly snoring cat. But for a moment longer, I will let myself fall into the fantasies of my dream, and my heart wander to the other side of the risen sun, across the great chasm of land where my beloved breathes.

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Re: Lobelia, of Yondalla's Children

Post by Ribbons of Light » Thu Sep 27, 2018 6:05 pm

Alturiak 144, of Arelith Reckoning

The end of a story is always a new beginning.

I remember our last day of our disciple training. We were arranged together in front of a tree in a field of wheat, which was supposed to represent the meadows of Luiren. It was a cool sunny day only a few miles from the village where I had first met the Exalted Protector Poppaea. She handed each of us a shield with Yondalla’s Cornucopia symbol bursting with fruit as its emblem.
We placed the shield in front of our legs, holding it steady with two hands, and chanted our vows. “To all kin: Protect. Provide. Love. Nourish. Foster. Guide.” We chanted her dogma once more, and lowered our heads in final prayer, before the Exalted Protector asked us where we felt our path was next. She gave us one night to ponder this before the wagon made its return to the settlement.

In the morning she gathered us in the meadow once more and asked the question again. Sister Asphodel, the eldest disciple, spoke first. “My path is next to yours, Exalted Protector. I wish to be the one always by your side, always learning, until you are ready to retire and pass on the mantle to me, where I will continue your legacy on to the next disciples.”
When I hesitated to speak, trying to find the words, Merla seemed to catch on for my need of time and spoke up next. “I wish to wander, and spread the faithful light and love of Yondalla’s word to our people everywhere, never resting until her holy word warms all our people.”

I squirmed in my place, hand squeezing its grip on the shield. This was the end of our journey. I wanted to see my parents again, but I was an adult now, and it was time to leave the nest. My new life was to serve a cause greater than myself. But how would I aid this cause? Even discussing it last night in the wagon with the others, the answer was a hard one. “Come with me!” Merla had eagerly suggested while we lay in our beds in the wagon, the night before, thinking of our future. I understood why Merla was eager for my company, we had grown to become close friends, I liked Asphodel but she could be a bit vain and conceited as an older sister might be, spending more time looking at herself than contributing to the conversation. “There are a lot of little villages and hamlets we can stop through. It will be a real adventure, without strict rules!”

“You’ve wandered for a year now in this wagon.” Asphodel countered, tending to her nails as she spoke. “Even a caravan rests here and there for longer in a place than we have. I would consider some stability.”

“Only you would recommend boring.” Merla grinned.

“It’s her future.” Asphodel said while fluffing her pillow and tucking herself in. “Reasonable people settle eventually.” She blew out her firelight, and we had followed suit.

In the morning, I bridged their advice.

“I wish to wander,” I began. “Until I find a place my heart settles to do the same work as the Exalted Protector that needs the light and love of Yondalla brought to its people, that I can call home until the urge to wander returns.”

Merla flashed a smile at me and the Exalted Protector suggested that she and I take the wagon from here and return to my caravan first. “Sister Asphodel and I will walk the rest of the way. Remember, belief in the Mother is strength. There will be many adversaries and obstacles you cannot prepare for, but faith will be your guide.”

We nodded and cried, embracing each other as disciples and teacher split paths for our new paths. There was so much we saw in the former lands of Meiritin, and the lands we passed to and from there that was gorgeous or hauntingly beautiful. She then gave us along with our shields a saffron sash to tie around our robes, signifying us as Blessed Sisters.

Poppaea was like a second mother. She had nurtured us, saved us, and given us purpose, and now trusted us to fly and spread her teachings. Yondalla could not have given me a better role model.

I still had a long way to go to bring her teachings to the world around me, and adversity. To think the first thing that I woke to on the morning of the election conclusion was a message that a hit was on my life. Our people would never stoop to this on the mainland. Just like the beginning of my adventure with Merla, which had an embarrassing incident of us breaking the wheel just a few miles on our journey and having to stop to repair it, this one has its immediate obstacle too. Dreams could be tragically fleeting. Your life could be snuffed away before you know it. The graves I recall at Meiritin in our disciple travel was proof. Some had never made it to adulthood. I had just carved another grave when I awoke, Petra Forst, in preparation for her memorial. She was like a mentor to me, even if I had not agreed with all of her views, I had intended to support her in both of the prior elections before she dropped out. But now she was another life taken a little too soon, with dreams of starting a family with Lowell ended before they could begin.

That is the risk of the adventuring lifestyle. Greater good at the cost of a chance of a much shorter life. You never know when your breath will be last.

I fondly remember the Exalted Protector speaking of this, before sending us to our wagon to think of our futures on our final night. “Are you satisfied with your life?” The question caught us off guard.

“I would like to do more someday,” Merla said, and I found myself agreeing with her statement.

“There are two ways you can live your life.” She began, taking a pause in her speech to look each of us over. “You can adapt yourself to the world and settle, living comfortably as Yondalla teaches, never taking too much, if you are satisfied with the world. Or you can seek to change the world around you for the better, and change the world. Beware, that changing the world is not easy. The rational person would give up, for there will be hardships, problems, and criticism. But the unreasonable person pursuing this path would not give up, to work to put something back in the pot that we all grab from filled with language, culture, and society we live in.”

The Exalted Protector continued, looking out towards the night. “I settled when I led the village, seeking to please the people over push for meaningful change. Leaving to teach you three disciples was unreasonable, I had all the love of the people. I faced criticism and rebuke for suddenly announcing my intent to retire. But it allowed me to give back three new priestess’s that will spread her light and bring change back into the world, and so it was good.”

I meditate on this speech she told us while I kneel at the Mother’s altar in the chapel in quiet prayer. Life was short and dreams could shatter. To wait to give back risked to never give at all, to walk too slow and cautious meant opportunities missed. All of that counsel eased me. I could endure this. I have endured much worse, enduring worse, from Peregrine’s absence to my initial reception by the community. And yet I was still here, still going strong in my heart.

I would simply take it one day at a time. Just one day at a time in this new chapter as Bendir’s mayor.

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Re: Lobelia, of Yondalla's Children

Post by Ribbons of Light » Fri Oct 26, 2018 4:48 pm

Deepwinter, 145 of Arelith Reckoning


A banshee’s wail is literally death chilling. The screaming sound gets inside your head and inside your soul. Run all you like, but you will get nowhere. Fear begins to suffocate you, as if you are drowning, wailing your arms but only sinking deeper. Then the effects complete, the day’s light fades, and your soul moves on to the city of dead, the body depleted of all life and energy.

Such spells casted by wicked necromancers were one of many historic struggles of the fallen hinterland Meiritin. The tombs there were carefully created to be hidden for that very reason, not even easily found by the descendants of the displaced folk of Meiritin. It kept them safe from tampering, but it did not undo the wickedness that snuffed their life.

The most chilling story I collected, during my travel with Merla was such a spell nearly wiping out an entire six-wagon caravan. Whisperknives were sent out in short order to track down the killer, and they returned with a head. Contrary to the classic image, Whisperknives killed only when it was a just judgement, Dallah did not condone murder. They passed it on to the sole survivor, who showed the grisly thing to frighten children when they gave grim recounting ever since then, and to us when we visited them en route to the coast. I was still a bit skeptical of the facts of the story that wagons never passed that way since when we had just passed said way, but when I saw the potency of the spell first hand, witnessing my guard collapsing lifelessly without a moment’s notice, I began to believe in it more.

“Why?” Merla had asked, in disbelief of the volume of such evil our kindred retold to us. The hin just shrugged, and said: “Some people just lose it.”, after retelling of an incident of a missing item that had the particular necromancy in an uproar. He couldn’t say if anything was ever really taken. To him, it didn’t matter anymore.

It was like seeing the abandoned hamlets of Meiritin all over again, sad ghastly things. The Exalted Protector had pushed us to not see what is, but what was. “Dream, my disciples. We are not a violent people, and so they left when neighbors showed greed and malice. Community is people, not buildings, and as long as you spread the light, that will be everlasting.”

It made me question then, the importance of Meiritin, of why people still whispered of one day reclaiming the land. Why not just return to Luiren? As Asphodel had pointed out, they had no trouble rooting their ground there.

“You live longer when you know when to fight and what to fight for.” The Exalted Protector had lectured. “Greed and pride brings its problems, live well but share when you have plenty, for you never know when you will be the one with little.”

Merla and I kept to her advice when we left her and Asphodel, keeping our wagon only lightly packed, and exchanging services of spiritual guidance and religious needs to the hin hamlets we visited in exchange for food and nourishment.

We listened to the problems of each hamlet, bandits here, fields struggling to grow here, or officials from a nearby human village looking for a thief that had left too much of a trail. But each of them had strong faith, and community, and when Merla asked me if this was the place I wished to stay to spread her light and love, I shook my head on each. I did not know what feeling I was looking for, or what sign, but none of them called for me.

There was a coastal town that Merla was keen to linger in for a while. She had sprained her ankle when we were ambushed by a small group of goblins scampering towards our wagon, and wanted time to rest it. A local jeweler had a sick student that was assisting them in a rather busy season for their shop, so I had occupied our longer than normal stay with helping to cut the gems. It takes quite a bit of patience, and while you can still eat a poorly cooked meal, a poorly cut gem was not going to sell. The owner was patient however, and the skills I learned were invaluable to make my holy necklace years later.

I had noticed while I was working Merla spent her resting time chatting with a caravan that had parked into town two days after our arrival. While I was working, she was entertaining them with stories and sermons, and had caught the eye of one of the hin boys, who would spend time chatting and flirting well past my return from the jeweler’s.

A tenday later, the jeweler’s apprentice had recovered, but Merla had wanted a few more days for her ankle while I looked up locations to go on to. But then a few days turned into another tenday, as Merla wanted to participate in the local Safeday, and then just give it “another day” to make sure it was at full strength. It wasn’t like her to delay like this, and after hearing of an island part of Amn’s trade route with some earthkin presence that we could look into, I was keen to go, and told her we should leave tomorrow.

Merla was conflicted about it, but we had stayed long enough, and I was very curious about what perhaps awaited beyond the sea. I had just sold our wagon to the visiting caravan the morning of our departure, who was also departing in a few hours, and was about to split our funds with Merla when she told me that she wanted to travel with them. “I’m sorry for telling you this at the last moment, Lobelia. But I want to follow him.”

I was surprised at the sudden change of plans. I didn’t see her in the wagon when I woke up sometimes, but I didn’t think it was anything but a passing fancy. “Oh. Well, I’ll have to tell the captain we’re not going, then.”
She shook her head at me. I felt a pit form in my stomach. I was beginning to understand her intentions before she spoke them. Their relationship was serious, and she was keen to follow her heart. “Go, Lobelia. Follow your heart, as I have followed mine. I found my place. Find yours.”

She took my hand in hers. I didn’t notice in my work and drive that we had grown a bit further apart. Had our encounter with the goblins without the Exalted Protector changed her? Did the caravan represent something more to her, the ability to be a Hornguard while feeling safe? She was crying, I was crying, and my tears weren’t dried until we parted and I was aboard the ship.

Sometimes I wonder where I would be, what I would be doing if I had insisted on staying with Merla, or with Asphodel and our Exalted Protector, Poppae. Life has so many paths and hard decisions to be made, but the Mother put me away from them all.

Have I done your work well, my Mother? The path has been full of bumps and travail and near death experiences, but your love have kept me safe all the while. My undying faith has been rewarded with my own beloved, but I wonder how does this path end, and what dear friends will be lost along the way, if not myself.

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Re: Lobelia, of Yondalla's Children

Post by Ribbons of Light » Mon Dec 31, 2018 5:08 pm

Nightal 146, of Arelith Reckoning

My time on Arelith has come to an end. To say farewell to the village I loved was bittersweet. Friends and artists celebrated with heartfelt messages and gifts. Grudge-holding enemies did the opposite, stealing such art and spreading vitriol messages full of baseless fact.

But standing on a boat on the seas, it felt so far away now. Peregrine was pacing restlessly, watching for danger, and little sister Siloh clung close for warmth in the breezy, chilly wind. The waters of the shore slowly faded into mist, and I would never see them again.

I spent the downtime teaching and applauding Siloh’s new divine spell growth, and finding different ways to make her face pinken with teasing, or making meals together and playing little games and recalling past stories to pass the time.

Within days we would approach the Sword Coast. But there was one detour I wanted to make first before making the journey and crossing the border into Luiren…



Twenty hin wagons laid outside a hin settlement in the Purple Marshes. High Priestess Poppaea stood next to her priestess Asphodel, sporting her first grays coloring into her blonde hair. They were welcoming the tired travelers into their village, treating them with drink before rallying them into the tables to feast. The occasion was Safeday, the time the community all came together once every tenday. But this Safeday was more special than most.

Out from one of the caravans came Hornguard Merla, committed to her path of the wayward warden, visiting the settlement that had started her journey with her spouse. She had stopped by occasionally over the years, her caravan sometimes making stops to and from Luiren but mostly staying near the coastal towns due to their rich ports for trade. She embraced her mentor and sister priestess, and exclaimed: “You won’t believe who we picked up along the way.”

Out stepped from another caravan with two others not far behind her the second disciple, Lobelia. She too, embraced her sisters and mentor, and introduced the family she had brought along. “Dearest Exalted Protector and sister priestess Merla and Asphodel, how much I missed you!”

The four swapped tales and partook in delicious feast. Merla shared the tales of an improved safer Caravan route that helped bring goods from Luiren to the smaller caravans not equipped to make the journey to the homeland. Asphodel shared her stories of defending the village outskirts from the greed of human banditry, and the growing expectation and excitement of following the Exalted Warden on becoming the new face of the village in a few months. And Lobelia shared the tales of the people she met, had brought with her, and her experience on a chaotic island far away. High Priestess Poppaea listened quietly through it all, smiling brightly through the stories of each of her girl’s accomplishments.

She did not have any stories to tell. She was at first when she let them each part to their own paths, anxious. Asphodel she could influence and protect a little, as she had stayed close, but Merla and Lobelia had wandered on, and their naïve but hopeful nature was as much a boon as something that could be hurt, and she wanted them to be safe. Letting go had been hard, their discipleship had lasted so long because she had enjoyed their company so much.

But now she knew letting go had been the best thing. They had grown up and become noble ladies.
And when they split apart the next night, Merla and Lobelia joining together for a little longer until their trip to Luiren was complete, she held onto the two for a little longer than their last parting, and even embraced Asphodel, even though she was not parting with her. “I could never have children, but you three more than made up for it. Bless Mother Yondalla, and bless your journeys. May they be as bountiful as the feast we had yesterday.”
And then on they went, with Asophodel standing watching her as Merla and Lobelia left with their families. The High Priestess’s heart bit a little warmer, and with a little pride. Letting go was hard, but its bounties it returned were invaluable.


End

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