3.5) The pilgrimage of Ravoneth.
Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 11:07 pm
A slightly built half elf sits upon a grassy knoll in the High Forest soaking in some warmth from the rays of the noon sun. She's been here for a while silently taking in the sounds of the forest, the feel of the earth beneath her, the breeze that gently moves her hair. As a Great Way Adept and disciple of the Quenyar Refuge she's learned the patience needed to adapt to and learn from her surroundings. That patience wasn't easy to master as her human half burned with the desire to learn things now, to do them now and to master them now. That is the way of the short lived races. They seek to do as much as possible as quickly as possible and they often founder long before reaching any level of competency. Fortunately her elven side, with the patience of a thousand years or more of life available, tempered the flash-in-the-pan human side.
Rising from the sun warmed ground Ravoneth turns slightly as the breeze brings the sound of the great bell from the monastery. It isn't a true bell but an ancient oak trunk. Discovered by the first Grand master upon the very grounds where he built the refuge it was hollowed out and polished smooth and hung by the great gates. A simple hardwood hammer hangs next to it and a gentle strike upon the trunk sends a low sound for several miles through the trees. The sound of the oak is used to call the disciples in for meals or other mundane activities.
Coming out of the trees Ravoneth sees the refuge bathed in afternoon light. The simple building dedicated to peace and harmony of soul seems both out of place and right at home among the towering forest around it. The sounds of other students finishing up the mornings martial arts training can be heard across the open glen in front. Passing through the gate in the stone walls she walks by the oak bell and not for the first time wonders at its age. Fifteen feet tall and so big around that she could stand upright within it were it laying on the ground the slow growing oak must have been alive for thousands of years.
Hustling inside to the afternoon meal she spots a few friends and sits to enjoy the fruit, bread and meat that is either grown in the orchards outside or harvested from nature. Talk is minimal and centered around the training. Bruised knuckles are shown with slight pride of a strike well done while others with larger bruises mull over their failures and vow to do better. Ah such is the life of an Adept.
After the meal is done and the dinning area cleaned the students head outside for training to be followed by meditation before evening meal and then bed. As she enters the training area Ravoneth is approached by one of the ten year Adepts. A full elf male with a gentle smile and easy gate leans in and simply states. You are summoned. Knowing that she must report to Grand Master Syrithidanthanis in a timely manner Ravoneth thanks the messenger and hurries to the meeting place. In a garden open to all near the rear of the refuge Ravoneth comes upon her master and mentor. His practiced pace seems at odds with how quickly he moves as he reaches up to touch a blossom from a cherry tree in full bloom, his limp is almost impossible to detect. Holding the blossom for a few seconds he turns and smiles at the younger practitioner. Perfection can be found in even the imperfect, Ravoneth. This blossom I hold is not well formed although it is perfect. Perfect in that it will produce a fruit and that fruit a seed. From that seed will come another tree to create more of the same. Each one different and imperfect but striving for the perfection that only a cherry tree can produce in full bloom. The beauty of these trees and the aroma of their flowers brings joy to all around them. Releasing the blossom he turns to fully face the half elven female. In so doing his semi pointed ears briefly reveal themselves and his lineage as a bastard of elf and human, although the young Adept would never place such a moniker as bastard upon the 17th year Grand Master. You are a third year Adept and you progress rapidly through the training. Possibly because of the mixed blood that runs through you, humans are always in such a hurry, or perhaps due to your desire to excel in the arts. Hmm either way I have chosen you for a pilgrimage. You are to travel to Waterdeep and locate a missing brother. His name is James Hylar, a name gift from his human mother apparently hoping that the name would hide that he has an elven father, but no matter. He traveled there on a similar pilgrimage to learn more of the outside world and then return to us. He was given six months. We received word some days ago that he'd given in to his human side and delved into an elaborate cavern within the city in the hopes of gaining riches. He sighs at this point and shakes his head a bit. Nothing is more valuable than purity of spirit. Ravoneth do you willingly accept this pilgrimage? I'll not force you, the choice must be yours.
Rising from the sun warmed ground Ravoneth turns slightly as the breeze brings the sound of the great bell from the monastery. It isn't a true bell but an ancient oak trunk. Discovered by the first Grand master upon the very grounds where he built the refuge it was hollowed out and polished smooth and hung by the great gates. A simple hardwood hammer hangs next to it and a gentle strike upon the trunk sends a low sound for several miles through the trees. The sound of the oak is used to call the disciples in for meals or other mundane activities.
Coming out of the trees Ravoneth sees the refuge bathed in afternoon light. The simple building dedicated to peace and harmony of soul seems both out of place and right at home among the towering forest around it. The sounds of other students finishing up the mornings martial arts training can be heard across the open glen in front. Passing through the gate in the stone walls she walks by the oak bell and not for the first time wonders at its age. Fifteen feet tall and so big around that she could stand upright within it were it laying on the ground the slow growing oak must have been alive for thousands of years.
Hustling inside to the afternoon meal she spots a few friends and sits to enjoy the fruit, bread and meat that is either grown in the orchards outside or harvested from nature. Talk is minimal and centered around the training. Bruised knuckles are shown with slight pride of a strike well done while others with larger bruises mull over their failures and vow to do better. Ah such is the life of an Adept.
After the meal is done and the dinning area cleaned the students head outside for training to be followed by meditation before evening meal and then bed. As she enters the training area Ravoneth is approached by one of the ten year Adepts. A full elf male with a gentle smile and easy gate leans in and simply states. You are summoned. Knowing that she must report to Grand Master Syrithidanthanis in a timely manner Ravoneth thanks the messenger and hurries to the meeting place. In a garden open to all near the rear of the refuge Ravoneth comes upon her master and mentor. His practiced pace seems at odds with how quickly he moves as he reaches up to touch a blossom from a cherry tree in full bloom, his limp is almost impossible to detect. Holding the blossom for a few seconds he turns and smiles at the younger practitioner. Perfection can be found in even the imperfect, Ravoneth. This blossom I hold is not well formed although it is perfect. Perfect in that it will produce a fruit and that fruit a seed. From that seed will come another tree to create more of the same. Each one different and imperfect but striving for the perfection that only a cherry tree can produce in full bloom. The beauty of these trees and the aroma of their flowers brings joy to all around them. Releasing the blossom he turns to fully face the half elven female. In so doing his semi pointed ears briefly reveal themselves and his lineage as a bastard of elf and human, although the young Adept would never place such a moniker as bastard upon the 17th year Grand Master. You are a third year Adept and you progress rapidly through the training. Possibly because of the mixed blood that runs through you, humans are always in such a hurry, or perhaps due to your desire to excel in the arts. Hmm either way I have chosen you for a pilgrimage. You are to travel to Waterdeep and locate a missing brother. His name is James Hylar, a name gift from his human mother apparently hoping that the name would hide that he has an elven father, but no matter. He traveled there on a similar pilgrimage to learn more of the outside world and then return to us. He was given six months. We received word some days ago that he'd given in to his human side and delved into an elaborate cavern within the city in the hopes of gaining riches. He sighs at this point and shakes his head a bit. Nothing is more valuable than purity of spirit. Ravoneth do you willingly accept this pilgrimage? I'll not force you, the choice must be yours.
