Afanen
Summary
Appearance
Past, in narrative form
I remember it well, the smells of the local baker, the sounds of the blacksmith and the laughter of my many friends. It would have probably turned out to be a pretty enjoyable, kid filled life, with some farmer for a husband, cleaning the house for a living and raising kids. But life had bigger plans for me, my parents insisted i go to church like I belonged in the town - unlike them. I would join the neighbors and go to weekly worship of Estridae join the kids for the half hour of Sunday school afterward, and then play for the rest of the day. Most days went like this, except most of the teachings for the rest of the week were ones of reading, math, gardening, baking and whatnot ... its a bit hazy now. Just like the faces of my parents, which one was elf? or were they both half elf ... I suppose when your young it just doesn't matter much. Until the day when THEY came, It was the middle of service, the doors in the back were flung open and the gnoles rushed in. The screams of the innocent filling the air, i just froze, i watched the cleric gather the elders, women and children and directed them to the back exit. I watched the men try to buy them time to escape, but there wouldn't be an escape for any of them. Bodies toppled, i under a few of them, the look of horror in their eyes, and the spark of life leaving their body. Still frozen in a mound of the dead ... then there was a sharp pain in my side, coming back to make sure the dead were truly gone before setting the church on fire. Burning flesh isn't something you ever forget or the look frozen on the faces of the dead. I still have the nightmares, and their blood still under my nails ... it never comes out no matter how hard you scrub. They called me blessed, because a woman clad in white somehow got me out of there ... I walked for several days ... she kept me going, telling me "its just a little further" or "its not your time, keep moving". I stayed quiet, for a year or two, before I started to talk again. he-eh took out this nail *holding up the pinky finger on the right hand* trying to get the blood out from under my nails with a small dagger - a cleric walked in and scared me while i was doing so. They all just called me blessed, "Estridae does not save everyone, you know" ... part of me always wishes that I had died that day. *inhales deeply* BUT I didn't so life must go on.
I chose to join the army when I became of age to defend those would need defending as a Cleric of Estridae. That's where I met the rest of them and started our adventures, Fleetfoot Division 2. I guess I was supposed to heal their physical wounds and follow orders. It may have started out that way but soon I was healing their physical bodies just as much as their souls.
- long pause*
I died you know? It was during a mission that doesn't exist, and would end our military careers. Just poof ... in the middle of battle, standing next to Anze one minute and gone the next. Suppose you wouldn't call me much of a cleric of Estridae afterward. Being brought back from the dead gives you a new perspective on life. Well, I'm off nice talking to you. Mmm? why did share all of this with you? I suppose its so that one can tell the tales of how life will change you, how people can change. Or i just wanted to validate my existence to another being before going on to face death once more.