It barely made so much as a “plish” sound as it aptly sliced through the surface of the water. A word was spoken elven in nature, with magical intent. The thrower now held his trident proudly inspecting his handiwork. His last throw produced two Fleek-Eels with but a single toss. He was getting better at this. He came to the coast town of Delva to cure his nightmares; he never thought he would meet a master of the trident, with whom to train.
The Elf’s name was Wanop. It meant little in this new place which was neither his home nor his planet. Not an extra-terrestrial, nothing so alien as all that. He had come to find out that there were worlds other than this, and apparently worlds other than his.
The sound of clapping tore him from his thoughts. “Very good my friend! Soon you will be teaching me, how to use this weapon!” The praise of the aquatic elf was welcomed with a nod. Estanemanor, (Estan to those who knew him) the aquatic elf was the weapon master Wanop had found. This aquan elf’s upper chest was above water while he expertly treaded water in the bay. Wanop had never thought about how strange it was that being landlocked on his home world his favored weapon was one typically associated with the sea. The Trident was a weapon held in high regards within his heritage. His late grandfather Devin Pornard had once aided in a titanic battle, his weapon was a trident, a magical trident; and Wanop’s birthright. The weapon was now lost to him, but his prowess with the weapon apparently was not.
“Do your nightmares still haunt you?” The aquatic elf inquired, genuine concern laced every syllable. A “nightmare” was hardly an appropriate description of what exactly an elf experiences when assuming their trancelike state of reverie. However nightmares did exactly describe the type of experience Wanop had until recently been having.
“No Estan, I am proud to say that ole one eye has not haunted me in almost a week.” Wanop said this with obvious relief. Entering this new world was not as easy as opening a door, for himself and many of his past traveling companions it had literally been an out-of-body experience. The trip had included an unfortunately intimate look into the world and mindset of the orcs. One in particular; a murderous and destructive gale wind force of a half-orc known only as Glucktor, a serial killer and suspect of royal assassination. The severing of this partnership had left Wanop with some unusual side effects. One of these included a dream duel with the one-eyed orcish deity known as Gruumsh; a duel which he had lost, soundly.
These side effects were to alter Wanop’s behavior, in subtle and not so subtle ways. He had been infected with an obsession: revenge. Revenge is not an uncommon obsession but the lengths to which Wanop was willing to go had become “uncommon” in intensity. When he found that his enemy had already been killed, Wanop had nearly resurrected the villain in order to kill him again. This was beyond madness.
One of the more disturbing side effects was a newfound and irrational affinity for eye patches. There was nothing wrong with his left eye but that did not stop him from wearing an eye patch to cover it.
The obvious implication was that Gruumsh had somehow possessed him, which led Wanop to Delva and more specifically to the temple of Corellon Larethian. Corellon was well known as a deity directly opposed to the Orc god. If the clerics of this temple would not help him, then no one would. The process was trying, it had required an extended stay in this town but progress was indeed evident. Wanop had slowly become more comfortable in his own skin. He felt a sense of wonder and mischief finally return to his soul. Coincidentally the eye patch was no longer necessary.
He turned to Estan leaving his thoughts for more quiet moments. “Brother Estan, are you quite sure that you will not join me on this adventure?”
With a laugh “No friend, you use your Trident to spear villainy and evil doers, I use mine …” He held his beautifully crafted trident above the surface of the water. “To catch my supper!” he exclaimed as he thrust the prongs straight down into the water. Slowly he lofted it above his broadly grinning head with not two but rather three speared Fleek Eels (one for each of the prongs), making the obvious point.
Wanop had plenty left to learn.