The gate on the wagon slammed shut and the click of the lock seemed as loud as a cannon aimed at their souls. It was hundreds of years ago outside Lyrickium, and Velrunya and Idhdur were convinced that their lives were over. They had strayed too far from the walls of Lyrickum and were captured by a raiding party under the command of a vicious warlord. The wagon was crowded and the faces were unfamiliar, and many were unfriendly. The smell of bodies and sorrow grew every mile until the group was brought before a general. Those that seemed fit, were offered a place in the warlord's army. Velrunya was a cunning archer, but she would not leave her husband, who was much too frail for military service. The glance they shared was clear: nothing would tear them apart. Those not selected for service were then carried northwest, to Kondr. The sale was mutually beneficial: the dwarves of Kondr recieved a supply of slaves while the warlord was able to finance his conquests. Any soul would strain against this new bondage, but especially two Sky Elves. Their place was on the road, not trapped underground. But Geto Loredelver was perhaps the best master they could have hoped for. As historian and loremaster of the city, Geto viewed human slaves as disposable. But a pair of Sky elves, slaves that would likely outlive himself, they could preserve knowledge and lore better than his books and scrolls could ever hope to do.
Velrunya and Idhdur were comfortable during their servitude. They were well provided for and indeed, Geto often treated them as friendly as custom and tradition would allow. Velrunya's beauty and combat prowess were utilized well in her role as bodyguard and personal assistant. Meanwhile, Idhdur was all to happy to care for the house. Keeping Geto's libraries and tomes in organized satisfied his compulsions for order and tidiness. He was also able to adapt his cooking skills to the preparation of dwarven fare rather quickly, occasionally mixing in techniques he had picked up in his travels. Geto paid a high price to outbid some prideful dwarves that just wanted the elves under their boot to satisfy their sense of superiority. But he would have gladly put down ten fold as much. Each night, as Idhdur cleared the dishes from the dinner he had prepared, the three shared stories of dwarven history and elven travels.
Time tends to flow quickly underground, without the sun or the seasons to mark its passage. Seventy years came and went, and left but a trace on the faces and features of the three. The birth of the baby seemed sudden by comparison. Seeing an elven baby grow before his eyes was a rare treat for Geto, who was possibly one of only a few dwarves that would appreciate the chance to observe the child mature. Yet it pulled at his heart to see the child mature as a slave. He had made up his mind to free all three elves as a birthday present to the child. This news was met with mixed emotions. While the elves had never truly lost their hunger for travel, they had grown close to their dwarven master . But the road was no place for an infant. That is why it was customary for Sky Elves to entrust their children to other cultures, to be raised as one of their own, perhaps one day rejoining them on the road, perhaps not. And so, the baby was left with Geto.
Lumigan took the name Loredelver, though few sought his name under the assumption that he was just another slave. He was raised as a dwarf. Though certain skills are inborn, many are learned. Lumigan was no more familiar with archery than the dwarves he lived with, but his eyes could never match that of a dwarf in the darkness. He gained a familiarity with gems and stonework, but never saw a tree outside of a textbook. He studied clockwork and mining, his thirst for knowledge encouraged wholehearted by Geto.
Years passed happily, but Geto grew older. He was almost 210 years old when Lumigan was born, and fell ill when Lumigan was only 50. The estate and the libraries would pass to Geto's successor, the next historian. But he left the boy with a token that would prove life changing. Crafted from a mysterious blend of silver and platinum, the ring had the appearance that a small section had been removed. In it's place was set a small ruby. When light was focused correctly on the crystal, it projected an image of a Freedom Certificate. It listed the names Velrunya and Idhdur as parents and a date of birth that was the same as the date of emancipation. "You have been free every day of your life. When I am gone, there will be nothing tying you to this place. You are meant to see the world." The illness took Geto to the afterlife a short while later. After the funeral, Lumigan was seized by the magistrate. The documentation was examined, and at 50 years old, he was an adult by Dwarven law (though he was but an adolescent by elven standards).
And so, with no possessions but the ring, Lumigan ventured to the surface for the first time in his life. The sun was brighter than he imagined, and he was tempted to return straight away and update the books, but without Geto, the dwarven city held nothing for Lumigan, and his soul burned with wanderlust. As he began walking, he noticed that he did not get hungry or thirsty. This was a relief, because he lacked experience gathering food in the wilderness and he had not a penny to his name. The first night, he felt refreshed after only two hours of mediation, instead of the usual four. When he had no pain in his stomach asking for breakfast, he looked at the ring. He attuned himself to the magical energies of the ring and determined that so long as he wore the ring, he would never suffer from the lack of food or water.
This proved valuable on many occasions, but first and foremost, during his trek across the Leidrebv Desert. Simply not needing food or water would not save him from the desert sun nor bandits, monsters, or other dangerous elements the desert had to offer. Luckily he came across a band of nomads bound for Brymseil. He helped them gather food, water, and supplies, and took less than a full ration (though always took enough to avoid suspicion). As a result, the tribe found him a worthy companion and they all traveled together over the sands.
The libraries in Brymseil were phenomenal, especially to a young elf eager to learn all the mysteries of the world. He delved into basements full of dusty books, and scrolls. History, science, literature; Lumigan absorbed any tome he could get his hands on. Thanks to his ring, he could work undisturbed for hours, even days at a time. When rumors suggested that a rare book could be obtained from the smugglers and thieves outside the city walls, Lumigan would cautiously venture outside the city walls to mix with the underworld. It was a good life, but it was not to last.
Lumigan enjoyed his stay at Seilvein, mostly because of the sea. He found the prospect of a sea voyage invigorating. So when Captain Longfellow invited the elf aboard, he dropped everything and set sail for adventure. Not very handy in combat, Lumigan proved indispensable as a translator, strategist, and bookkeeper. He would volunteer for more than his share of night watches in the crow's nest, utilizing the opportunity to chart the stars in the sky.
Captain Longfellow and his crew were sailors. To call them pirates outright would be an overstatement. However, their sense of honor and fair play was not altogether in keeping with the morals and ethics of lilly-livered land-lubbers. While not usually a participant in any nefarious deeds, Lumigan also made no moves to interfere. He kept the ships log and recorded the harrowing adventures. After years aboard the Horizon
Chaser, Captain Longfellow grew from a flashy young captian, to an old gray sea-dog. He had gained a small fortune trading between the isles of Lyrna and swindling the trade princes of Durenden. Lumigan took his own share of the spoils: notes from long conversations with the Shaumans of O'Vyrn, ancient secrets of the Massazi ruins gained during a brief captivity.
Their travels brought them to the shores of Azh-Turim. Captain Longfellow had declared this his final voyage and was planing to retire in Vexbright. Lumigan was 150 years old; he had not even hit middle-age and he was not ready for the quiet life of retirement. Thankfully, fate had other plans for the elf. While making camp on the beach, Lumigan wondered off, investigating the subtle differences in Azh-Turmim's flora when he came across a plant similar to what the Lyrna Shaumans called an assassin vine. He was careful not to become lunch when he heard a large individual crashing through the brush towards him. The hulking brute was an Azhim Lumigan would later know as Gort. The ground shook as Gort walked up to Lumigan and extended his blade, questioning the intruder's presence in his tribe's lands. Lumigan attempted to warn Gort of the dangerous plant, but to Gort, the warnings sounded like the trick of a cowardly weakling. Gort attempted to lunge at Lumigan, but his feet were held tightly by the grass beneath them, and he toppled over with a loud thud. Vines took on a life of their own and ensnared Gort, attempting to crush him. Lumigan tried to explain that the more he moved and struggled, the tighter the vines would squeeze. Gort's youthful rage had not yet been tempered by the wisdom of age and experience, and he ignored the words. Lumigan wanted to spare him the gruesome death, though it would be no less than he deserved for being so bull-headed. He quietly and stealthily worked his way over to the stem of the carnivorous plant, drew his dagger and cut straight through the plant, ending its assault. Luckily the plant was small and immature, or Gort would have surely have perished that day. Grateful and indebted, Gort brought Lumigan back to the village to meet his father the chief. Lumigan was received as a guest of the tribe and a small celebration was held in honor of the prince's savior. The next morning, Azhim scouts returned from a morning hunt with several prisioners: The landing party of the Horizon Chaser, including the Captain. Lumigan was instrumental in negotiating their release, but rather than accompany them, he elected to stay to learn from the Azhim anything they were willing to share. He wished the Captain luck in his retirement and they parted ways.
Lumigan admired the Azhim, which is remarkable considering their attitudes towards traditional academics. He enjoyed disecting their philosophies and on and dedication to the principles of warfare, combat, and physical accomplishments. Years later, when Gort's father stepped down, Gort passed the trials to become chief, and Lumigan could not be more proud of his longtime friend.
As had happened many times before, the inborn itch of wanderlust grew until Lumigan felt pressure to explore a new corner of the globe. He headed West, to the last refuge of the elves of the world. Initially, he was welcomed as a brother. But as the years passed, the leaders in the region took notice that he was not aging at an accelerated rate like the majority of his kin. The rumors and whispers started slowly. After a few years, it was suggested that Lumigan submit himself to the head mage for testing to determine if his body somehow held the curse of the purge. Lumigan was not anxious to be a guinea pig. But as time went on, he felt faced with two choices: submit to the testing or leave. This broke his heart. Among the Massazi ruins he was able to deal peacefully with the lizard-men, despite their prejudices. The same could be said about his childhood among the dwarves. But now he was being forced to leave his own kin. But he could not fault them either. He was the living embodiment of what they had lost, although not completely. Lumigan was not immortal like the elves of old. Nearing 200 years old, the wear and tear of two centuries were beginning to show in his appearance. He had heard of other elves that had escaped the full effects of the Purge, but they were established members of the community, and as such were not asked to be research subjects. It was so tragic to see the effects of ten generations of mortality on a culture that had been carefully cultivated since ancient times. Crafting something for fifty years, chasing perfection, was no longer viewed as a noble pursuit, but as a waste of precious time. The race as a whole was experiencing a mid-life crisis. Lumigan made the best of his time there gathering scraps of ancient lore, but he left within twenty years.
Lumigan was at a crossroads of his life. He had traveled a large circle around much of the known world. He could return to Kondr, the land of his childhood. He much preferred to head to a new destination. He traveled to Vexbright. There he found Longfellow, old and weary, yet happy to receive an old friend. Longfellow had sold the Horizon Chaser and was living comfortably in Vexbright. However, his days were drawing to a close. On his deathbed, he willed all his possessions to Lumigan, including the items Lumgian had sent him over the years for safe keeping. Lumigan was sad at the passing of his friend, but forged ahead.
He used the inheritance to establish a small shop where he sold oddities, antiquities, and other items one would accumulate over hundreds of years traveling the known world. Business was good enough to hire Josef as an assistant. The young man showed ambition and curiosity, and that was enough for Lumigan. Josef was hard working and loyal enough that Lumigan could trust him to run the store in his absence, sometimes for months at a time.
Lumigan was nearing the end of his life. He was quite proud of all the information he had collected and all the things he had seen over the years. If he were to have died at this point, he would not have known regret. So in high spirits, he took to the streets of Vexbright, anxious to take in a dwarven trade show that was being conducted in the local square. A sturdy dwarf was working a hammer and chisel against a fine piece of stone. Never one to be in much of a hurry, Lumigan sat and watched. He watched all the passersby as they acknowledged the craftsmanship and moved on. The dwarf worked through the afternoon and into the evening, producing a very fine statue of a human woman kneeling to hug a child. The final polishing complete, the dwarf wiped his brow as Lumigan applauded and congratulated him on a job well done. Lumigan extended the offer of a hot meal to the dusty dwarf, who gladly accepted. Over dinner, Lumigan surprised the dwarf a bit with the specificity of his compliments on his stone work. In answer to the dwarf's puzzled face, Lumigan explained that he had been raised among the dwarves of Kondr. After condensing a couple of centuries down to a few lively tales, Lumigan smiled at the retelling of his life's story. The dwarf stroked his beard and listened carefully and when the story was over, he paused a moment and asked a question. "You've had quite the life, master elf. You have seen and learned much, which is of course a noble pursuit. Now, I have no desire to debate about the best life to lead, but I offer this in response. I have devoted my life to stone carving much in the same way you have devoted yourself to learning and enlightenment. When I'm gone, the world will have my collection of stonework to do with as they wish. When you are gone, what will remain?"
Lumigan pondered for a while. His answer brought a smile to the dwarf's face. "I agree with your critique of my life. A life without legacy is hollow indeed. Elven ways are not used to such thinking, as mortality has only been of real concern in the last thousand years or so. So while I have satisfied my inborn instincts to learn and travel, I have neglected to provide a legacy. My answer to your question is this: A person's legacy can be measured by the lives he touches. So I must get to work, for I feel that for all my studies in dark lonely libraries, I need to begin improving the lives of this world."
02-12-2013, 05:56 AM
