Wearing a bright yellow cloak and a knit headband, the elf of many years came upon Essembra, the largest elven city in Battledale, one that rests uncomfortably on the border between the Dalelands and Cormanthor, forest of elves. Before seeking out practitioners of the Art in this quarter, he found himself sitting on a tavern stool, content with drinking away his problems and finding the mage guild another day. As he brought the fine glass mug filled with elsem nectar** to his lips, he noticed a rarity indeed- a copper skinned, forest-wary Wild Elf indulging in cheap liquor.
"Why," he asked the formidable, yet broken man. "Do you look so sorrowful wild elf? Isn't your place within the court of Cormanthor?" D'Amico began to repeat the question, seeing that the wild elf did not make the slightest move when he addressed him. As D'Amico began to speak again, the wild elf answered the question with angry passion. "My place was never in Cormanthor! The politics of the Elven Court are apalling," the wild elf swung around and stared deeply into D'Amico's bright yellow eyes. "Yet as I speak, my gilded homeland burns." The wild elf's eyes seemed to change from a burning flame to smoldering ashes as he dropped his face into his arms. The barkeep continued drying glasses behind the counter. He did not seem to be listening, although there was no one else but one other collapsed drunk in the dismal drinking hall.
D'Amico thought to converse with this tormented younger elf although he thought better of it. Surprisingly, the wild elf spoke again, almost incoherently as his lips were on the counter and his arms were wrapped around his face. Something like "I'll kill all the damned dark elves by myself" came out. D'Amico, with his years of studying Elven culture, could not bite back his words.
"My bronze-skinned friend, you are but a fool to think that you could bring down an entire empire of scheming, damnable dark elves to their knees! Their abominal studies of perverse black magic would slay you, if ye were to embark on such a doomed quest." The wild elf didn't flinch, and the flushed D'Amico calmed down.
"I am D'Amico Vega, brother of the adventuress Amaelayra*** , and native of the treacherous forest kingdom of Wealdath. May I ask you who I speak with?" The enlightened sun elf bought a quart of lager for this depressed man, who only then came out of his arms to drink.
"I am Opie. Just Opie. From Cormanthor, as you'd guess..." he mumbled. After a bit of silence, the bartender left to the back of the tavern to drag the collapsed drunkard out of the door. Opie then proceeded to say those cursed words.
"I seek to destroy the drow. Well, what brings you here, sun elf?"
"D'Amico." the robed elf reminded. "I seek to earn the admiration of the Archpatriarch of Wealdath by advancing my magical knowledge to honor Mystra, goddess of Magic. I am a mage." D'Amico bowed his head to him. "Don't think that you're the only one with problems, my wild elven compatriot. Opie, your quest is an impossible one. Many a man has died at the hands of the dark elves, and for what? To show their own ignorance? You cannot respect the drow's customs and culture, but you must respect and recognize their fighting skills." Opie gestured for D'Amico to quit speaking, and, after finishing off his lager, he turned toward D'Amico.
"Your advisement has finished. You are wise, D'Amico, however you do not know the pain I harbor in my soul. My entire bloodline is endangered, and possibly destroyed already from the drow takeover in the Elven Court. I don't know or care about what they want in Cormanthor, I want only to punish those hateful creatures that so fallaciously claim to be elves. If you have no part to play in my endeavor, I demand that you leave me be." His last sentence was filled with venomous vigor, and it caused D'Amico to shrink down into his seat. D'Amico still had one card left to play in this encounter, however the dual swords and bow of this odd stranger dicouraged him from speaking. He went back over the spells in his mind and waited for the bartender returned to the tavern.
"Sir Opie, I believe I do have a role in your quest. My sister I mentioned earlier, Amaelyra," Opie cast a caustic glance towards the curious and determined sun elf. "Well, uh, she went off on a journey to prove to me that any adventurer's blade can be legendary, regardless of gender. Now I too fear for the life of a loved one. I can relate to your deep pain, Opie, and perhaps, if you'd give me the chance, I could be of some assistance to you." Opie's mind raced. He had come to this tavern to get himself drunk enough to directly confront his darkened past, and now a Wealdathian mage is trying to talk him into slowing down his pace! He entertained the possibility inside the part of him that was still half sober, and finally settled on allowing the yellow robed sun elf to teach him drow tactics. After a little training, Opie could send him on his way.
Thus, the elves began to clean up the streers of Essembra as the gaurd force ardently combated the House Jaelrae drow****. To learn new fighting skills, they took up all sorts of odd jobs around the Battledalian capital, taking down petty criminals that began to spring up as soon as the majority of the gaurds left the city walls. Soon enough, Opie grew tired of these 'chores' and talked (or threatened) D'Amico into flat-out showing him the cornerstones of drow combat- light manipulation, illusion, speed, and mystery. Opie became a bit more wise and cheerful after memorizing all of these studies, and even felt a little sad for sending such a great trainer and knowledgable strategist on his way.*****
The next day, Opie payed his debt to the Essembran innkeeper and prepared himself to head out to Cormanthor to showcase his newfound anti-drow skills. He now knew every aspect of drow society- their history, combat techniques, gods, and even how to hit their weak points and how to track them by footprint, scent, and logic. As he walked onto the Elder road, his weapons in place and his maddening anger growing, he met up with two men that would change his way of thinking, one was D'Amico, and one was someone else.....
The same day that D'Amico had left Opie's side, he had chosen to get on with his life and finally stake out the famous Essembra School of the Art******. It was a dark night and D'Amico was starving, so he stopped by a little marketplace on the street that seperates the Manor Quarter from the Haptooth Quarter******. It was quite strange to be standing between the rich and poor sides of town, a street that was guaranteed to get anything from snobbish customers to manic pickpockets. A small crowd of both social classes crowded around the marketplace, listening astutely to the streetcorner preacher in front of the store. He seemed to be attracting customers with the promise of free produce from Excelsior******* if they would only listen to his thoughts. D'Amico hemmed and hawed for awhile but ultimately gave into his curiousity and waded into the crowd.
"...praise Sharess for her retribution, she has given into darkness yet atoned...." the tall, human man decreed. He was impressive, well over six feet tall with pale, white skin and soft, baby blue eyes. He spoke with a power and confidence that street performers generally lacked. "...praise Sharess for her introduction of passionate love to our world. Her intervention in Faerunian affairs allow the loyal couples to engage in intensely romantic relationships..." D'Amico noted his loyalty to Sharess, goddess of sensuality and felines. Followers of this faith had outrageously entertaining love lives and celebrated their love with more festivals than any other deity ever to grace Faerun with their divine touch. "...and finally, praise Sharess for her embrace of felines, for they are the creatures of the gods and are worthy of compassion. Thank you for listening to the Eight Praises of Sharess. For a piece of gold or two, you may recieve a copy of these prayers. Please indulge in these fine Excelsian fruits, and may they be the fruit of passionate relationships. Good night, Essembra!" The audience was largely appreciative of this random preacher's rants, although D'Amico immediately recognized him to be more than what he seemed. Gold was tossed at the preacher and copies of the text where handed back. Disinterested in paying for anything, D'Amico picked up the most innocent looking fruit among the market, a fruit resembling a large, yellow plum.
"What's this?' yelled D'Amico to the preacher, who was struggling with the growing crowd.
"Sigilian rochinter. Believe me, it's great!" D'Amico took a bite into the fruit and recoiled from the amazing sourness of the rochinter. He swallowed the rest of it quickly so he wouldn't look like a coward. His face was twisted into a reddened and frightened visage. After a little sampling, the sun elf ate a few lime-colored berries and felt quite full. This fruit was Marfill, a berry found commonly in Wealdath. Excelsior, being a small town in the Heartlands, was a place he was slightly familiar with. Now full but still exhausted, D'Amico waited for the inspiring man to close up shop before launching his plan into action. Followers of Sharess were an indifferent people, allowing others to do what they want,
From that piece of knowledge, he cornered the preacher as he made his way through a back alley.
"Young preacher! Wait up!" he shouted. The man turned around, the remaining fruit inside the soapbox he was standing on earlier.
"Yes?"
"I was wondering if you could put me up for the night. I plan to earn the respect of the Archpatriarch of Wealdath here by enrolling in Essembra's School of the Art."
"Ahhh... I man of the faith, I see," the preacher scratched his chin hairs. "Yes, you may stay in my humble shack in this quarter. I am Zebo, champion of Sharess," Zebo reached out his hand. "Who are you, Heartlander?"
"I am D'Amico Vega. If I may rest my tired body in your home for a night, I shall repay you later." Zebo smiled and led him into his dilapidated shack in the Haptooth quarter, where the two found little sleep. When D'Amico realized the shining armor, steel blade and shield (all adorned with the rare, archaic symbol of sharess) the two spent the night talking about their crusades and hardships. Long into the early hours of the morning, the enthusiastic human revealed two staggering secrets, ones that would prove to be necessary in creating an alliance of friends.
"Your quest is one of both potential power and saddness, D'Amico, however I am startled by the similarity of our pasts." Zebo stated.
"How so, Zebo?"
" I am here to find my sister as well, D'Amico. Perhaps fate has brought us together. My sister, like yours, was a powerful woman. She was known as "the daughter of Sharess" and much lore was sproud about her within the Coalition Cities*******. However, as her fame spread, so too spread her admirers and a fanatical following. When I was but a teenager, she disappered and left me nothing except for the blood of Sharess that burns in my veins. I am a member of The Harmonium, a gaurd force for the Coalition Cities. I escaped their ranks and fled to Essembra in this corner of Faerun, because Sharess spoke to me and told me I could find my beloved sister here. I know that you won't believe this, but I am an Aasimar." Zebo spoke these words quickly and revealed a glowing birthmark in the shape of a cat's paw on his arm, the more modern symbol of Sharess and symbol that he had the blood of a celestial within him. D'Amico gasped, speechless, and after recovering, said the words that would create a party of adventurers.
"You! An Aasimar! Holy Mystra, we've been put together for a reason! To find our loved ones, and to exact punishment on our foes. Quickly, we must find a wild elf I met recently. He too knows the pain of our losses, and I believe he is part of this destiny!" D'Amico ushered Zebo into his armour and into the streets, and met up with Opie as he traveled along the Elder Road toward his eventual damnation. The two fateful companions, burgeoned with excitement as they approached the angry wild elf.
"Wild elf!" screemed Zebo. Opie continued to walk.
"Wait! Opie! There is meaning in this life! We must fufill the promise of our destiny!" D'Amico yelped. The wild elf kept walking, not even caring who spoke to him.
D'Amico cried, screeming inside at the ignorance of this passionate elf. He fell to his knees and uttered his warning through teary eyes.
"If you keep walking, you will die and this dream of saving our family will perish along with it."
Opie turned around and sheathed his sword, and the blue summer sky glittered with the presence of the gods. They looked down below as the three men came into a circle, and began their quest together as one man.
FOOTNOTES
*Doyle Harrigan is the bardic psuedonym for Alex Jones. Party History: The Clash of Swords, Mind and Faith is propery of Alex Jones of Doppelganger Studios Copyright 2003. All rights reserved. This manuscript is based on a gameworld by Ed Greenwood, a campaign by Alex Jones, and is largely based on a history originally written by Cory Denious located on http://www.expage.com/opie333. Thank you to all of these sources.
**Elsem Nectar: The nectar of the Elsem flower, a commonely found flower originating in Cormanthor that is known for its incredible potency when mixed with water and a series of spices. Cost: 2 Silver a mug.
***Amaelayra: pronounced ahm-ah-lar-ah, elven for Sunstricken
****House Jaelrae Drow: A dark elven army thrown out of the Underdark that haunts the surface world, seeking to claim all of the Dalelands and Cormanthor to learn the art of Elven High Magic of olden times in order to destroy rival drow houses. When written, Eleint 1372, their primary target was Battledale and the Elven Court.
*****: This passage suggests that D'Amico truly honed Opie's skills as a woodsman and drow tracker. This is a bold look at reality, and a large portion of bards have a contrary belief that all D'Amico did was talk Opie out of taking on House Jaelre without a little instruction. It is unknown which version is more true.
******Essembra School of the Art: An elitist mage guild that teaches remanants of Elven high magic along with lore from that period of Faerunian history. It also allows entrance for free, but the subject must defeat an illusionary spellcaster in order to join the ranks. Still though, most mages of the guild are well-off, money wise.
*******Coalition Cities: Three Heartland cities that brder each other and act as commonwealths. Excelsior is the smallest town and allows anyone to enter. If one serves the gaurd force for two years, they may start a family in the slightly larger city of Sigil where only the most loyal gaurds become members of the Harmonium, a fanatical Sharess worshipping cult. If one does a great deed in the name of Sharess, the Factol of the small town of Arcadia will invite them there for priesthood and training. Arcadia is open to the public but only as a place of worship. Only the greatest Harmonium Knights may hold court here.