Wyhan Gustani was the heir to Gustani family line. They were the undisupted masters of the two sworded styles generated from the histories of the elves. Wyhan grew up during the arrival of Humans and the stand against the Hells. He was among the earliest generation of Dynamians to have contact with humans. While most of the elder and adult elves regarded the new race with suspicion and paranoia, the younger generations were split on the matter. Wyhan was among the prideful elves that looked down upon the peoples new to Dynam. His life and outlook, however was changed in one swift event in his adult life (about age 120).
Pheona Reyn was in the 3rd generation of Human Dynamians, she hailed from the rougher division of humans, though the passage to Dynam allowed the two segregated groups of humans to mingle, her blood ran with those of the Way. Growing up in Dynam as a human was difficult, but she found her way into the studies of becoming a warrior/priestiess. Her studies took her around the continent of Dynam. In one particular incident, she came across an elven envoy under attack by bandits. She saw this as a test from her god and joined the defender's ranks.
When the bandits were slain, Pheona found that all those around her were gravely wounded, including herself. Her skills as a warrior had been put to the test and she had triumphed, now her skills as a priestess would be put to the test, and she knew she could not fail. Drawing upon the power of her god, she brought the survivors and herself from the brink of death. When all was done, the regal looking elf approached her and spoke.
"I am Wyhan Gustani, heir to the Gustani family line," he said as he stood infront of her. To Pheona's surprise Wyhan dropped to his knees and touched his forehead to the ground infront of her, a kowtow, a sign of ultimate respect and humility.
"The practice of your art, martial and magical, are more honorable than any I have seen." He continued. "You forever have my thanks and the thanks of my family. May I know the name of the woman who saved my envoy?"
"Pheona Reyn." She stammered. She had a decent amount of knowledge regarding the politics within the Elven empire, and she knew that the Gustani looked down upon interaction with Humans.
Wyhan's contempt for the human race was replaced by hope and respect. All because of one woman's actions. Pheona found a place as an ambassador to the Elves from her clergy, a post she filled with pride. Her friendship grew with Wyhan, and that friendship turned to genuine love. However, in the courts of the empire of elves, the marrage was met with controversy and contempt. Political machinations flew everywhere, but Wyhan's heart was set. Against the council of everyone he knew, he would marry Pheona. In doing so, he was cast from his home, but for his honorable service in the past, he was permited to keep his name.
Pheona and Wyhan relocated themselves to a small frontier village by the name of Scion on the border between the Elven grasslands, and the Goblin forest.
Chapter 1: Birth of a Legend never told
Years had come and gone. Two of Wyhan's traveling companions from his younger years had come to Scion as well. Varell Iquanan and Berun Redstone.
Varell was a mage of some power, he was known as an enchanter who had studied amongst the best of the Goblin academies.
Berun was a misfit dwarf, while truthfully he fit right in with Dwarves from just about any other plane of existance. Dwarves of Dynam are contemplative and peaceful generally. They hone their bodies to be strong like the earth itself, for they need it to survive in the grueling dessert without any real aid. Either way, Berun found himself misplaced and now relocated in Scion with his friends.
Wyhan, while cast from his home in shame, was still considered a swordmaster. Specifically a swordmaster who knew the two bladed styles. Gustani family training provided not only sword skills, but also generic wilderness lore and excellent scouting and stealth tactics as well. By technical terms, Wyhan was a seasoned Ranger. Using his skills, he found use in making himself a guide through the vast grasslands and the bordering forests of the Goblins. He would also forage to help feed his family. Pheona helped found a small temple to her deity in Scion and retired to a less active life of preaching and other clergy work.
The years passed quickly and Pheona eventually bore child. This is perhaps the first recorded instance of a half-elf on Dynam. The proud parents named their child Faerell. It was decided that if the child was a boy, he would take his father's name, and if it were a girl she would take her mother's. So that settled it, their child was Faerell Gustani.
Faerell as a young boy ran errands for his mother and lent a helping hand in "uncle" Varell and "uncle" Berun's blacksmith and enchanting shop. Wyhan was home much less than he should be. The ranger kept to his duty as a means to earning money and food. However, whenever Wyhan found the time to come home, he would take his son out to the field with him for a week or two at a time. It would be a minature adventure of father and son. Involving survival skills, lectures on honor and duty, knowledge of Wyhan's little sanctuaries in nature, and of course swordplay. Faerell was an intelligent boy. Varell commented many times that the half-elf should be admitted into a school for the Arcane arts, however, Faerell had his sights set in his father's footsteps. The two-sworded technique he quickly picked up, as well as every other bit of information that came from his father.
When Faerell was 20, the political atmosphere between the Elves and Goblins changed. There was a heated exchange followed by a declaration of war. The now small city of Scion sat in the middle of the battlefield. Wyhan was called away to aid in the war effort. For duty and for honor, he went, but he also went out of love for his family. He knew military strategies very well, hence why he was drafted so to speak, so he knew that if the war wasn't put to rest quickly, Scion would become embroiled in the bloodshed.
The war lasted several years, but Wyhan Gustani fell to allow victory at a critical battle within the first two years of fighting. He fell as a hero and was given a burial in elven traditions: his swords were buried with him having no official sucessor. The Elves still did not recognize Pheona as a ligitimate wife, and certainly did not recognize Faerell as an heir. Mother and Son were left to their own devices in Scion.
This event shattered Faerell's dreams in the honor of the elves, and his dreams of becoming a true samurai of the Gustani line. He changed forever that day, the coming years changed him even more. Pheona and Faerell fell on hard times. Increased bandit activity cost everyone money, also Pheona fell ill with a powerful disease and was unable to work. Magics could not cure this disease, as many others in the city had fallen ill as well and died.
In a fateful evening, Faerell caught a theif in midst of Varell and Berun's shop. Though instead of capturing or killing the halfing burglar, he let him go in an effort to make more money. The halfling's name was Jhord Fleetfoot, and he introduced Faerell to a deep underground that was unseen by most of the world, the Thieves Guild. Faerell passed the trials easily, his extensive training as a ranger granted him signifigant advantages, and he quickly accellerated his way up the chain of command. He was not alone in his rapid acent. There was another boy of about the same maturity level by the name of Seln D'shar, they were fierce rivals, constantly trying to one up each other on their daily income.
Meanwhile, back at home, Pheona Reyn was so exhausted fighting her fever and disease that she did not know how Faerell was supporting himself and her as well. She was too fevered to understand things around him. If there was any kindness and love left in Faerell's heart at that time, it lie in his mother.
Day's after recieving his post as 3rd in command of the Guild, with Seln as 2nd and the original Guildmaster as 1st, Faerell returned home to find that his mother had passed on due to disease. She had been fighting the disease for months. Faerell's world collapsed around him. He found himself directionless and confused. He requested money to fund a funeral for his mother, but the guildmaster called him a sentimental fool and denied him the money. Despite these feelings, he managed to continue his guild work.
Fate had decided something for Faerell though. On a run to the wealthier end of the city, he had been personally appointed to raid a mansion before the merchant returned home. All that were currently present were the merchant's wife and daughter.
In the black of night, Faerell made his way into the mansion. Snatching up some quick coins in the vault, he made his way quitely around the upper story. Then he heard a voice singing, a beautiful voice, and enchanting melody. He wanted to hear more and walk closer to the door that the music emanated from behind. His attention to his stealth diminished slightly as he leaned his head against the door to listen. The music continued for a bit, then stopped abruptly. Footsteps approached the door. In a moment of lucidity, Faerell attempted to back off and hide, but his body did not respond. Panic washed over him as the door creaked open, and from his awkward position, he saw perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever met. She seemed in control and not shocked to see him at the door.
"Come" she said. Her voice beautiful despite a small choking sound.
Whatever magic controlled Faerell's body forced him to stand up and enter the room. The door was shut behind him as he stood upright facing his captor. She was beautiful beyond words, but a sad feature took upon her face: tears. She had been crying for reasons unknown to Faerell.
"I have a buisness proposition for you. I know the city is quarantined because of the diseases." She continued. "I want to leave, I'm not infected as you can see, I just merely wish to leave for personal reasons. Fulfill my request and I can reward you with more of the riches in this mansion."
How old was she? A human girl, she couldn't be more than 16 years. She was magnificently beautiful...DAMN should have been paying attention to what she was saying.
"Uhm...sure." Faerell stammered after realizing his predicament of having his body controlled.
"Excellent," the beautiful young girl replied. "I'll expect you back here tomorrow night. Now get out of here."
Then the enchantment on his body was released, he could move of his own volition again. Quickly he fled and plotted.
"Money from the merchant, that would fund mother's funeral." He thought. "No, for the guild's insult, they must pay as well. I'll make them pay by taking the treasury. Without that, the master can't pay all those lackies...and subsequently won't be able to pay for his own funeral."
So he formulated a plan to put the guards to sleep and to hoard off with the money. It was done easily enough. His skills with locks and traps, complemented with his high status within the guild allowed Faerell to enter and exit before the guards noticed. Timed properly, Faerell knew he had only a few hours before the guard rotation changed and the chase would begin. First he met with the head priest at Pheona's temple. He paid the necissary gold for a funeral fit for an elven lady. Then, he made his ways swiftly to the merchant's daughter, together they took a hidden passage the rogues made to exit the city. Before leaving, Faerell used several flasks of Alchemist fire to collapse the hidden tunnel, leaving his former guild members stranded.
"Forgive me mother, for I will not be present for your funeral either." Were the words on his lips as he looked back on the city.
Chapter 2: To walk the Path of Vengance
Faerell had connocted a plan in less than 24 hours. He had stolen the guild treasury, escaped the quarantine with a girl he knew next to nothing about, and collapsed his only return back into the city. Now, he was running to another city with the girl who had magically held him in the mansion. She wore a dark red traveling cloak now. With the hood thrown back, her raven black hair streamed behind her enchantingly. A moderate sized travelpack slung over her shoulders and a thin rapier at her hip. She had not spoken a word since they left Scion. She paid him little to no heed, while Faerell was mesmerised by her beauty. Despite this, Faerell remained silent as well; he needed to plan. And despite the drastic events in the past day, Faerell had a plan.
First, was to get a sword. Not just any sword, but Faerell desired that which was his birthright: the Gustani family blades. He had the tanto (dagger) that his father carried, and a shortsword from the guild. They were good blades, but they were not his father's swords.
They reached a crossroads. The girl kept on walking. Wordlessly, Faerell turned onto the NorthWest fork, headed straight for the grasslands of the elves. In one day's journey, he reached the edge of the grasslands. In another two days, he found his way into the Gustani provinces. He kept himself shrouded and did his best to stay out of sight by moving between his father's wilderness sanctuaries. It did not take him long to reach the gates of House Gustani.
"I am Faerell Gustani, son of Wyhan Gustani." He proclaimed to the guards. "I have come with two demands. First, I come for my birthright: the daisho of my ancestors. Second, I come for revenge, I want to know the slayer of my father."
One of the guards laughed heartily. "Ah the bastard son of a lowly human thinks he is worthy of Elven steel merely because he has some elven blood."
Faerell knew he wouldn't get anywhere, but by windfall someone else showed up.
"I had a feeling you would come," said a regal looking elf with a longbow hooked over his shoulder as he stepped through the grass. It was Dynar Morith, one of Wyhan's old traveling companions, and a trusted friend. He had, on many occasions, crossed paths with Wyhan and Faerell on their excursions in the wilderness. They had often spoken and Dynar knew Faerell to a fair enough degree.
"Come with me to the House of Morith," he continued. "I'll give you a chance to prove your worth. Best me in a bloodless duel and I agree to meet one of your demands."
"Your challenge and terms are acceptable and generous Lord Dynar," Faerell spoke confidently. "I accept."
A few hours later, Faerell stood facing Dynar in an empty dojo...empty save for the two men. Faerell held twin wakazashi length bokken in his hands. Dynar took a standard katana length bokken. He was either being generous or arrogant. The Morith were known for their kyujutsu, or bowmanship. Their skill with the blade was very limted as they focused on the bow. Faerell had seen Dynar use a sword before though, but only in the direst of circumstances.
The two looked at each other, attempting to size up the other person. Faerell, attempting to judge whether he could use Dynar's arrogance to his advantage. Dynar, attempting to judge how much Faerell had improved since last he saw.
Lighting fast, the duel began. Faerell won the initiative with his right weapon coming in first, followed shortly by the wooden sword in his left hand. Dynar instinctively parried the first blow and backed off to avoid the second, then retalliated with a stead overhead chop. Faerell saw his opening. He dropped back half a step and caught Dynar's weapon solidly between his twin bokken. It was a deadlock, but the weapons were held lower because Faerell had taken that half a step. A sharp release caused Dynar's hands to relax slightly as he prepared to take advantage of Faerell's laxed guard. Swiftly, Faerell's foot came up and kicked Dynar's hands, sending the bokken flying to the side. This was followed up by a lunge that slashed at Dynar's midsection. It connected. Fortunately, the weapons were wooden and would leave little more than bruises.
"What is more important to you? The swords or the revenge?" Dynar asked as he picked up his lost bokken and replaced it on the rack.
Looking at his actual set of blades: a finely crafted shortsword from his former guild, and a tanto from his father. They would be sufficient. He had learned to modify the Gustani style to suit the shortsword/dagger combination.
"Grant me my revenge."
Chapter 3: Vengance for Two
Two days ago in Scion
The day was serene, despite ill tidings of war in nearby regions. A young girl sat sobbing in her bedroom. A bloodied guard had arrived at the Alaun mansion bearing news that raiders had attacked Kend Alaun's caravan and slew everyone in sight. This guard had barely escaped with his life. The minor merchant lord had not survived, and his only daughter was heartbroken.
Asena Alaun cried herself to sleep slowly, wrapped in her dark red cloak, a silver brooch clasped at the neck. It was barely past noon when she fell asleep. When she slept she dreamed. She drempt of destiny and chance meeting, this was the brooch's doing. It held powers of prophecy by dream for it's bearer. When she awoke, it was night. She was lonely and reached for her lute. Softly Asena began to play a soothing song to calm her emotions.
The scenes from her dream flashed into her mind, and she knew what she needed to do. Asena began to weave a spell: hold person. She weaved the arcane energies through her song and stopped playing once she had finished. Calmly, walking to the door, she opened it to find her target frozen in place.
The thief was stuck completely. This was her destiny? No, the brooch could not be wrong here. Perhaps the thief is only a key to the destiny. That must be it, and so she explained her position. The thief left and followed through. She paid him his due and they exited the quarantined city without trouble. While he had spit off in the direction of the elves, Asena remained northbound for a nearby city to collect information, information on the bandits and recent bandit activity.
Present time
This was Asena's second night in this city. It wasn't all so different from Scion, but the section of town she needed to visit was definately different. She had her information. She didn't want the bandits, but she wanted their leader. That name was found rather easily, even for an untried bard. Swiftly, she set out to gather her revenge.
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Faerell said his good byes and thank you's to Dynar. He had the name he seeked: Kurin Tirat. He had a description as well. Kurin's biography stated that he was a mercenary working for the Goblin army. Faerell prepared himself mentally as he set out, but the description bugged him a bit. It seemed familiar.
Several days later, he found his way to the 'front lines' of the battle. The Elves had pressed their way into the forests, but were suffering more casualties in the unfamiliar terrain. The front lines, were rather murky in truth. There were no major camps, nor any line formations. There were small encampments of war parties consisting of 5-10 people spread out. Any more people would be suicidal and just asking for a well placed fireball or similar spell to obliterate an entire unit.
The half-elf's finely honed skills in stealth came into use. Doubly taught stealth guided Faerell through the skirmishes and camps. He eaves dropped thuroughly and by chance learned the location of Kurin. Also, he learned that Kurin was not just a mercenary. He was a warpriest of unknown origins.
Faerell's sense of direction took him north to Kurin's stronghold. It turned out to be little more than a cave deep in the forest. The rogue easily avoided the triggers for the magical wards and found shadows to follow into the cave. It seemed empty. Perusing through the journal entries and battle plans on the desk, Faerell found much information regarding criminal activity, rituals to summon plague, as well as his own assets being wagered with in the Elf-Goblin war.
His infiltration was cut short as he heard someone entering the cave. Quickly, Faerell emersed himself into the shadows. Not long after, a dark red cloak meandered into Faerell's field of vision. What was she doing here? It was impossible for her to have been the mastermind here.
His musings were cut short as there was another person entering the cave now.
"Silly girl," a gruff voice said. "So busy looking for me, you didn't realize that I was follwing you."
The voice was familiar entirely. Faerell pieced it in. His guildmaster in Scion. This was getting big.
"Kurin Tirat," she retorted boldly as she drew her thin rapier and assumed a fighting stance he had never seen before. "There are many stories of heros seeking vengance for years. I am so fortunate to find you in under a week."
Faerell couldn't tell if it was just bravado, but he knew he should bide his time. After all, this man killed a swordmaster of the elves.
There was a loud crash as the girl quickly backed off. Stone shards sprayed around. The man was massive as Faerell remembered, though in previous meetings, he was seen without a weapon, now Faerell saw Kurin wielding a massive diremace. The powerful weapon spun rapidly as it set upon the girl. Her thrusts were turned aside easily by armor and weapon, she was in a very bad position.
Kurin slammed one end of his diremace into the ground then roundhoused with the other end. The speed at which the weapon traveled and the second mace head, caught the girl off guard completely. The weapon smashed into her sword arm and sent her to the ground and her blade skittering across the floor. To her credit, she was still concious after that blow, and she did not scream or cry out in pain. The massive warpriest loomed over her.
"Come now pretty one," Kurin mocked. "Tell me why are you here and maybe I'll spare your life."
"Vengance for my father!" She cried.
Kurin grinned menacingly as he reared his weapon up for a blow that would hammer down on her head. "Your will for vengance is not strong enough then, little one."
Faerell, had been waiting for awhile and had seen enough. He saw his opportunity to not only save the girl, but the perfect opportunity to strike. And so he moved.
Kurin suddenly found his strength draining. Faerell's sword found a gap in the back of the armor, like all armor, the back is the weakest.
"But my will for vengance is more than enough to kill you." Faerell sneared into the dying man's ear. "I am Faerell Gustani, remember me? You taught me what I know, your organization trained me in the shadows, you killed my father in battle, and you tortured my mother with plague. So I've taken your money and I've taken your life." Faerell viciously twisted his sword that was still stuck in Kurin's back. "This is my revenge!"
Faerell withdrew his sword. Kurin fell face foreward with a thud. His massive diremace fell to the earth as well. The suit of fullplate began to spew out steam. Faerell gave it a couple of kicks to turn it over. Through the visor, he saw nothing. The body was gone, whisked away by some enchantment.
Faerell sheathed his sword. The girl retrieved her fallen weapon as well and sheathed it. She winced at using her arm, it seemed broken. The two stood there for a moment; wordlessly looking at each other. Sadness in their faces. Faerell kneeled as well and said a quick pray for his parents. Tears streamed from his eyes. When he looked up, he found the girl doing likewise. They knelt there and wept for their parents in silent grief.
Faerell looked over to the girl sitting infront of him. There had been an extended moment of silence. It had been long since they both had ceased mourning. They knew not what to say. Another moment of silence passed as they looked at each other.
"What is your name?" The girl asked. "I am Asena Alaun. Twice you have saved me now. First you granted me freedom by leading me out of the city. I never did thank you for that. And now you've rescued me from certain death. I would like to know your name."
Shocked by the sudden introduction of voices to the background, Faerell did not answer for a bit. The emotions, thoughts and memories washed past him and brought him back to the present.
"Faerell Gustani." He said simply. There was no pride in his words; not like how he announced himself to the elves. Slowly he stood up and began to leave the cave.
"Wait! Where are you going?" Asena cried out. "I know I was rude to you before. I thought you were just some petty thief. Please forgive my rudeness when we first met."
"It's nearly dawn. It would be best to sleep the day here while the armies fight." Faerell said simply. "I'm going out to find something to help with your arm."
Asena was silent. Then as an afterthought, Faerell spoke again. "We can talk about your first impressions of me when I get back."
Faerell walked out of the cave. He searched for the tallest trees in the forest. He needed a specific fungus that grew only on the upper canopy. Swiftly, he climbed upward. Soon he could see the sky. It wasn't dark out anymore, but the sun had not crested the horizon yet. The sky was pink with the morning light.
He reflected on the past events as he searched for the herb. He felt more mature, mentally. His skills were being put into use, and he seemed to have answers to whatever problems that would arise. His father had trained him well in the way of the Gustani samurai, even if he did not have a daisho. This...this was Faerell's coming of age. It had been forced upon him, but Faerell excelled.
Finding the herbs, he gathered what he needed to treat Asena's arm and skittered down the tree. Upon returning to the cave, he found Asena hovering over the makeshift desk flipping through the numerous notes and journals. He walked up and set the herbs on the desk. Asena jumped up startled.
"I didn't notice you come back." She said.
Faerell shrugged and tossed his hood back so he could see better. "Let me see your arm. The juice from these herbs should help the healing process once it's been absorbed into your skin."
Asena nodded and complied by pulling back her sleeve gingerly. She looked curiously at Faerell as he crushed the herbs and spread the juices on her arm and elbow. "You're and elf? I knew the name Gustani sounded familiar." She said.
"Half-elven." He replied reflexively. Then before Asena had the chance to comment he spoke again. "So can you actually read what it says in those things? I only understood some of it."
Asena nodded. "His name is Kurin Tirat. I'm uncertain of what diety he worships, but he is a warpriest. It seems that he sparked the war through some political masterminding on the Goblin's side. He's been keeping up his end of the war economically through banditry and a thieves' guild."
She flashed Faerell a look.
Faerell finished applying the medication and sat down as he absorbed the information. The thought that his actions to feed himself and his mother, contributed to the man who killed his father. He found himself a bit overwhelmed.
As dawn broke, their conversation shifted to more favorable topics, until they found themselves exhausted and in need of rest. Asena fell soundly asleep in moments. Faerell found it safer to tap into his elven side and trance. The day passed uneventfully.
Faerell woke up several hours before Asena. He woke Asena at nightfall, and they headed into the darkness together and towards the nearest town. Faerell's training in stealth once again lead the both of them out of the forest unseen.
Asena seemed to have an entirely different air about her when she awoke. More energetic and more cheerful...more so than a day's rest should have granted.
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Asena's dream during the day
Dreams are confusing as always. Usually, they are mere pigments of one's imagintion. With Asena's brooch however, her dreams become much more tangible and real...especially in the most enigmatic ways.
She dreamt of many trials to come. She saw Faerell's very essence being tested.
Asena awoke to Faerell's disturbing her. His hood pulled down once again, obscuring his features. She seemed to feel something else that told her it was him waking her, and not some soldier accidentally coming across their resting place.
Her last two dreams of import were about Faerell. Her first one told her that Faerell would come in the black of night, and she would need to coerce him to help her, after that her interpretation told her that he would help her voluntarily.
The latest dream was mysterious and less lucid. Asena saw goodness in the shady half-elf. She wanted to help him through his trials to come, whatever they may be. Whatever destiny threw at him, she would be there. It was the least she could do in repayment.