After making a post in another topic a few hours ago, I got to thinking. How was my character chosen? Why was she chosen, and what was it like?
For those who do not know. My main character will be a High Elf Bard named Aeria. I love to write, so I decided to write a short thing starting from when Aeria died, to when she was granted ascension. Chances are this is going to turn into an actual story, but I decided to post it. PLEASE, if anyone else enjoys writing, please please please write up some story in relation to your "main character."
Note: I am terrible with tenses, as I do this for fun, and have no one to proofread my stuff other than myself :)
She squinted in the bright sunlight, placing a hand above her eyes. It didn't really help as much as one would imagine, seeing as the light wasn't actually coming from any particular direction. Try as she might, she just could not get used to the sourceless light. Wiping some sweat from her brow she tried to recall where she had been before she woke up earlier that day. It was angering not being able to remember anything, especially when curiosity stuck her as she looked at what she was wearing.
She wore an intricately woven tunic, the curved lines giving the impression of elegance imbued with the natural beauty of nature. She had a quiver on her back, the strap running comfortably between her *******, almost as if it belonged. Along the strap were several loops, three of which contained small knives. Where she expected to find a bow she found only a small case, with a lute inside, strapped underneath her quiver.
At one side of her hip rested an elaborately engraved saber, while at the other sat a wickedly angled dagger, with an inscription on the blade. Shael hoth noire Maethruel. The familiarity of it was frustrating because she did not understand the language. Perhaps it meant something to whoever she was before she woke in this realm.
Her boots and gloves contained a similar workmanship as her tunic, and bore the same elegant form and design, though perhaps a bit more worn from use. All in all, her outfit seemed to fit as if it was fashioned just for her with the wonder and grace of nature itself.
As she walked through the unwavering light, she looked around again. There was nothing as far as the eye could see. Nothing. Just the cracked ground going on forever into the horizon. She really hoped she wasn't going around in circles. Looking down at her feet as she walked her mind slowly slipped into a dark brooding atmosphere.
How did she get here? Why was she here? Is this a dream? She shook her head. Asking questions would get her nowhere. She needed to find some semblance of...anything. But why? What good would it do to just continue walking? She had no food or water, her mouth was dry and she could feel the gnawing edges of hunger beginning to creep through her body.
As she debated what to do, her thoughts constantly drifted back to the lute she had found on her back. It seemed almost comforting just to think about the instrument, as if it was her only grip to sanity. Without noticing what she had done, she found the lute in her hands, running her fingers down the strings. Familiar...so familiar.
She started to strum some strings, just to hear some other sound than her boots crunching on the dried earth beneath her. Soon she realized that her fingers were creating formations on the neck of the lute as she strummed. Soon enough she was playing a tune so naturally that she began to mess up the notes. Mess up the notes? She didn't even remember any of the notes.
Frustrated, she let her mind began to drift back into the gloom it was in before, she began playing the instrument again. The same song as before, as if she was driven by instinctual habit alone. She didn't want to stop playing like before, so to avoid reasoning out why she knew how to play, she closed her eyes and focused on walking instead. Lifting the left leg, lowering the left leg. Lifting the right leg, lowering the right leg. All the while listening intently to the music being played.
Before she realized it, she was standing still with her eyes closed just listening to herself playing the instrument. It was a wonderful notion, to be able to play something so familiar and beautiful.
She continued to play the instrument.
"Open your eyes, Aeria Alerae, daughter of Aunaere Auvrylae."
She opened her eyes, blinking in the sudden brightness of the barren world in which she stood. Although, it was not so barren anymore. She blinked. What used to be nothing but cracked earth, was now a field covered in lush grass stretching for what appeared to be hundreds of meters in all directions. With her at the center. Flowers and brush grew scattered in small groups across the field, adding to the astonishing sight.
Blinking, she continued to look around, turning in a small circle, mouth hanging open. When she made a full circle there was a woman standing before her. Back erect and stance proud, the woman stood looking directly into her eyes. Into her soul.
"Tavril," she breathed. As soon as she closed her mouth, her memories came slamming back into her mind. Memories of war, death, and decay. Memories of hardship, struggle, and victory. Memories of friends, family, and those who sought to harm them.
She was Aeria Alerae, firstborn daughter of Aunaere Auvrylae, husband to Lueael Eressdeth. She was fighting for the survival of Telara when she...died. She died. Impaled by an arrow straight between two of her ribs and into her lung. The sudden burst of remembrance brought her to her knees. She could almost feel the ghost of the pain, of her lung filling with blood. She collapsed to the ground panting, face pressed to the grass.
Suddenly there was a hand touching her shoulder as she panted, sweat dripping off her forehead.
"It is okay, child," there was a pause, "You have the knowledge to play the Song of Life, so it seems."
The voice seemed to echo within itself. It sounded so full of life and love, there was nothing Aeria could do to not feel comforted. She slowly sat up, steadying herself as she crossed her legs. She looked up at the glowing figure before her. This woman, this divine looking woman, could be none other than Tavril, the mother of life.
Shakily, Aeria mouthed the words 'Tavril' again.
The woman nodded in response, "Yes, child. I am Tavril, creator of the forest guardians, your people."
Bowing her head, Aeria spoke the ancient greeting of her people, only slightly noticing the words from the dagger, "Shael hoth noire Maethruel Alerae tir'drahal noire ashylae hirulth."
"Maethruel Alerae noire ashylae hirulth," Tavril said with a bow of her head as well.
Despite meeting Tavril herself, there were far too many things buzzing around Aeria's head at the moment. Almost immediately after Tavril finished her blessing, Aeria jumped in, "How goes the war with Regulos, Maethruel?"
Tavril's face took on a grim countenance, "Not well, child."
"But that can change, right? We can still win, can't we?"
"At this rate, we will have lost what has been created."
"But...but our people have always pulled through before. Isn't there some chance of hope?"
"Unless something is done, it will be the end."
"Unless something is done...can something be done? Please tell me what can be done! I'll do anything to help! Please, Maethruel!"
A smile lightly touched Tavril's lips and she nodded, "You would be willing to do anything?"
"So long as it will help relieve Telara of Regulos and his kin."
"So it shall be, child," with the final word escaping her mouth, Tavril vanished.
Looking around, Aeria stood up slowly, her pounding head threatening to topple her again. As she reached full height, her surroundings began to shift, and suddenly she was standing on an altar before five glowing figures.
Tavril, standing on the right, spoke first, "I have chosen Aeria Alerae."
The other four figures nodded, a woman in the middle spoke up, "Indeed. She has the heart of one who would do great things, if given the chance."
The three others glanced at Tavril and each gave a single nod.
All eyes were on Aeria. Thontic, Thedeor, Bahralt, Mariel-Taun who had spoken before, and Tavril. All The Vigil stood before her with a nod of approval. Sweat dotted her brow and it was all she could do to not quake in her boots.
All their voices joined in one and boomed through the chamber in which they stood, "Aeria Alerae, we, The Vigil, have chosen you to begin anew. Rejoin the fight for Telara, and show us that we have not chosen wrongly. We grant you, ASCENSION."
And then the world went white.