An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Zanra.

A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap is at 80. You change? Off 65 80.'
The gully continues 'Eyes hurt? Turn Color OFF!! (regular story dates)

Astinus says 'Enter the main library here to view only the author list.'
Astinus gently places a large tome gilt in gold on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Zanra' scribed in deep blue ink.

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Mon Jan 18 22:25:07
2010
Subject     Pattern of Life

Bueren Rose...that's what I've been
called before. Strange that I'm
called Summer Rose when I resemble nothing like
one. But, then again, many
things make little sense in the scheme of how
patterns of life seem to link
things together.

My mother has been gone many
years. She was with me through the early part
of my life, only to succumb to an
illness that ravaged her. My father died,
old and grey, long before I was even
considered an adult. I guess that's to
be expected when he was human.

He was
what could be termed Camaxilas, a sword lord. I can remember his
stories of
armored knights and fighting before he met my mother and gave up
his sword.

He
dusted his armor each week, his hand gently caressing the embossing in
gold. A
strange saying he would repeat each time. For some reason I'll
remember it, yet
won't say it because he told me to keep it inside until the
time was right.


When he died, we did as he asked and sent a single message by horseman.
We
expected nothing, but were surprised when one man showed up. This one
man
wore armor similar to my fathers and said words as he was lowered into
the
ground. My mother gave the man the armor and weapons when he left.

We left
for my mother's old homeland shortly after the funeral. I understand
why, now
that I can look back and remember what was said.

It was a primarily human
village near a large city of mostly humans. When my
father died, the once
friendly people started calling my mother a whore and
blaming her for causing my
father to forget an oath he took. Strange, these
so-called friends never said
this before, yet blamed my mother for the love
my parents shared.

Her exile
took us to Qualinost. Her family welcomed her back with open arms,
but there
were some unfriendly gazes that flashed my direction. And these
gazes brought
new vocalization to words that my father said with love and
affection. I came to
know that 'half elf' and 'half elven' could be said
with contempt and
malice.

In this city that treated my kind with contempt and hatred, I found
solace
in two men. One was a man familiar with weapons. He taught me how to use
a
mace. The other man was a cleric who taught me the healing touch and told
me
about the Gods and their stars in the sky. He did not treat me with
anything
more than pride when I made my decision to look to the same God my
father
did. Instead he merely nodded and continued to teach me how to heal. Both
of
these men shaped me and set me on my path. 

Author:    Zanra      
   
Date:      Thu Jan 21 13:19:51 2010
Subject     Keeping the journal
updated

They traveled slowly, she and the knight who clanked, followed
by the
shaggy horse. They spoke little, but Zanra was used to the quiet.
Instead
she looked at the trees and grasses that surrounded her, seeking
familiar
and unfamiliar that she could use in her work. She would stop
occasionally,
pulling leaves from trees and berries from bushes. She stuffed
them in bags,
saving them for later.

When they got closer to the camp, she
begged off to sit against a large
tree. With her rest, she pulled a well used
leather bound journal from her
bags, along with an inkwell and pen. Dipping the
pen in the ink, she began
to write. 

*******

 350 Post Cataclysm, 1st day of
the Month of Reorxmont

I met a knight. He needed a wound healed. He said the
wound was recieved in
battle. I bade him to show me the area. It was on the
middle of the left
side, bound by a well soaked bloody bandage. I removed the
wrapping,
revealing a wicked blade cut. He mentioned that an axe had done the
damage.
I cleansed it and applied powered Black Barony. I hope that will help
pull
out the infection and speed the healing. I used a new leaf that I
found,
crushing it to a gooey substance to help cover the powder. 

I wrapped it
with linen, then helped him redress in armor. I don't know if
he will listen to
me, but I did advise him to loosen the straps that keep
the armor on if the
wound begins to hurt. I will remain in the area to look
at the wound again in a
few days to sure that my ministrations worked. 

*****

She looked up, looking
around. With a sigh, she replaced the journal in her
bags and stood, continuing
on the path with the knight. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date: 
    Thu Jan 21 19:17:58 2010
Subject     Journal entry 2

******

350
Post Cataclysm, 4th day of the Month of Reorxmont

I returned to the camp to
check the knight's wound. I did not see him, but
did see another. I spoke with
him. He was resting. I found out his name, but
will not put it in writing for
fear that this fall into hands that do not
follow the manners these knights do.
We spoke for a bit. He knew of my
father, and it made me happy.

I was able to
find the first knight and checked the wound again. The
infection had gone. I
again treated it with Black Barony and wrapped it
again. This time when he
called for his armor, the other knight took it and
would not allow him to wear
it. I was glad to see this. 

On the side note, the first knight was willing to
talk, but also a bit
cautious. He seems to need an outlet for the frustrations
he has, but,
without knowing me, he seemed reluctant to talk to me about it.
Knowing what
has happened, I know that he needs what he has to be able to do
what needs
to be done. Cryptic, yes, but with reason. I know what needs to be
done, but
others do not need to know. 
 
*****

Author:    Zanra    
     
Date:      Sat Jan 30 03:24:02 2010
Subject     First day of
training

She limped slowly back to the tent in which she slept, her
muscles aching
from the training session with Lord Railen. She said nothing as
she ducked
into the tent. Flipping the tent flap closed, she dropped the
practice mace
to the ground, took two steps, then fell to her knees. Holding her
stomach
and her arms to her, she groaned as she sunk to her side. "Damnit,
why
didn't I think that this would NOT hurt as bad as it does," she
asked,
grasping at the strap to her bag. Not being able to grasp it, she
forced
herself to her hands and knees, crawling to the bag in the corner of
the
tent. 

Rummaging through it, she dug out what she needed and, with tears in
her
eyes, she started a pot of water to boil. When the water was boiling,
she
dropped what she thought she would need into the pot, starting to attempt
to
heal her aches and pains.

An hour passed as the water and herbs seeped. With
a startled snort, she
awoke. She stretched carefully, trying to avoid overusing
the muscles that
were sore. 

"For the love of Paladine..." she started,
stopping just a fast as her
fingertips tingled. She shook them, a bit afraid
that she had pinched
muscles. Not feeling any lack of feeling, she looked at her
hands. "That's
strange. I have never felt that before," she whispered, pouring a
large cup
of the tea from the boiling pot. 

Author:    Zanra         

Date:      Sun Jan 31 13:32:00 2010
Subject     Moonlight

Zanra
listened, carefully straining to see if anyone stirred in the camp.
Not hearing
anything, she picked up the dreaded weapon from the morning and
made her way
into the nearby forest. There, with no one watching, she tried
to remember what
she had learned from Railen. She remembered part of it, but
other pieces slipped
out of her mind.

After an hour or so of working, she dropped the weapon, much
to the relief
of muscles that seemed to cry out for peace. With an escaped moan,
she fell
to her knees, wrapping her arms around her chest. "Father," she
whispered.
"If this is what it takes to be what you were, I'm not sure that I'm
ready
for it," she whimpered, a bit of sorrow in her voice. Carefully, and
slowly,
she looked around to make sure that no one had followed her into
the
clearing. Seeing no one, she slowly laid down on the cool ground and
closed
her eyes. "I don't know if you can hear me...I've never talked to
you
before, but if you are there...Paladine give me strength," she
whispered.
Again, she felt her fingertips tingle. With painful movement, she
touched
them to her face, feeling a strange warmth come over her. She felt
strength
flow back into her arms and the exhaustion that she had been plagued
with
flow out of her.

She lay there for a while longer, wondering if this was
actually what she
thought it was...then sat up and bowed her head. "I still
don't know what
this is, but if it does come from you...blessings to you
Paladine," she
whispered as she stood, picked up the weapon and continued to
practice. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Wed Feb 17
12:55:59 2010
Subject     Skeletal remains

Zanra walked quietly
through the skeletal remains of the camp on
Sancrist. Once there had been
Knights of Solamnia as far as the eyes could
see. Now, only a handful remained.
She knew little of where the others had
gone, only that she remained to do what
she was told to. 

Smashed fingers, broken toes, bloody nosesall she became
fairly familiar
with as she helped out on the docks. She sat under the shade of
a tree,
healing those who had incidents with crates, oars, and other obstacles
that
lay in the way of progress. Occasionally her eyes would drift, looking
for
others that she knew, but none of them were still on the island. Each
of
them had their own orders and would soon meet somewhere else. Zanra
could
only hope and pray that each of them made it back with the minimum
of
injury.

When he stepped around to watch, she felt the need to slink farther
into the
shadows of the trees. It still bothered her that she knew what she did.
She
hoped that he didn't know of her hesitation, but knew that the word
would
get around. She laughed a little, thinking that she could possibly be
left
behind of the peaceful island, but knew that wish was impossible. She
had
taken the vow and given her oath. She now had to follow orders.

He looked
her way, his eyes knowing that her thoughts had gotten back to
him. With a roll
of her eyes, she stood and dusted herself off before
walking to him and saluting
him. He merely looked at her. "Are you ready?"
he asked. She shrugged. "As ready
as I can be...considering." He nodded.
"And of your other plans?" he asked. She
shook her head. "I have not
considered them. I had asked before joining the
Knighthood, but everyone
seemed too busy to answer me. Those plans are now
gone," she said, surprised
that the sorrow that she once felt was now gone. He
merely nodded, turning
back to watch the activity on the docks. 

"Have you
practiced your mace today?" he asked without looking at her. "The
day is still
young," she answered. He seemed to laugh a little, turning his
head to her. "Not
that young," he replied. She sighed. Saluting him, she
turned and walked toward
a clearing in what was left of the tents to
practice the new forms that he had
taught her. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Wed Feb 24
00:37:23 2010
Subject     The crossing 

The dock workers seemed
haggard as the finished loading the last of the
cargo. They then walked up the
gangplank and waited for the last of the
passengers to board.

Zanra shrugged
her shoulders, settling the still unfamiliar armor on her
shoulders. The strap
of her pouch crossed the breastplate, looking rather
funny as it settled at her
waist, along with the mace and things on her
belt. She glanced around, waiting
for him. He came down the beach, heading
for the ship. She caught the slight
movement of his hand, beckoning her to
his side. She nodded, following him up
the gangplank and aboard the ship.
The captain greeted him warmly, nodding as he
gave the orders to head for
the mainland near Palanthas. Zanra merely stood at
the rail and watched.
"You know there is a cabin you can rest in," a dockworker
said quietly to
her. She nodded, feeling the boat rock under her feet. She tried
to smile at
the dockworker, feeling her own stomach flip and flop with the
motion of the
boat. 

Night fell soon after, Zanra making use of the once empty
bucket in the
cabin set aside for her use. The dockworker who had spoken to her
had
already emptied to bucket three times, sighing each time.

He came to see
her the next morning, seemingly amused at what had befallen
her. All she could
do was glare at him over the rim of the bucket as she
continued to empty the
contents of her stomach. The dockworker entered after
he left, shaking his head.
"The bloody bastard should not harrass you so
much," he said, helping Zanra to
her bunk. "He should have a bit of a heart
at seeing you this sick. What's his
life gonna be like if a healer such as
yourself doesn't survive the crossing?"
She barely shook her head as the man
replaced her full bucket with an empty and
left the cabin quietly. 

Night passed into day. The sun had barely risen when
Zanra rolled herself
out of the bunk and hit the decking on her knees. A mere
whisper was all she
was able to manage, but with it she called out for relief.
And with her
whisper, soft blue light seemed to filter in with the coming dawn,
bringing
with it a healing sensation that seemed to take all sense of the
meaning of
the term 'seasickness' from her. From her knees, she looked out the
circular
window and praised the help of Paladine. 

The dockworker arrived soon
after. He knocked and was surprised at the call
for entrance. He found Zanra
sitting in a chair, attempting to clean herself
up. He smiled and bowed his way
out of the cabin, returning a bit later with
a large basin of water and towels.
He nodded as she thanked him, telling her
to drop the dirty clothing outside the
door. He left, chuckling as she
blushed and stammered her thanks.

Zanra sat for
a moment longer, looking at the clean water. With a sniff, she
made a face and
went to her pack, pulling out fresh clothing for herself.
She quickly cleaned
herself, donning the new clothes. Remembering what the
dockworker had said, she
dropped the soiled clothes in a pile outside the
door and quietly made her way,
without her armor, to the deck of the boat. 

She saw him there, but made way to
avoid him as she walked toward the front
of the ship. With a shy smile at a
deckhand, she leaned against the railing
and watched the blue water slip by.


Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Sat Sep 25 11:27:49
2010
Subject     Night sky

The night air was just a bit crisp, crisp
enough that Zanra pulled her
cloak tighter around her. She looked up, finding
the Platinum Dragon among
the stars and felt just a bit better. It seemed like
the weight of thousands
was on her shoulders and she was unfamiliar with it. She
could feel the
tension in the air from her vantage point. Some of the troops
seemed ok,
others were scared, not knowing what was coming.

She started when
the Grand Master walked by her. He looked toward her and
nodded. She merely
returned the nod and stood, walking away from the safety
of the camp, yet not
far enough away to leave herself open to attack. There
was a lot of uncertainty,
things that she wasn't ready for. Her past flooded
back to her, causing her to
remember things that she had hoped to keep
buried. All would come out in the
future, she was afraid, but knew it
would.

Lord Railen acknowledged her as he
walked by, making the rounds of the camp.
She nodded, turning and heading a
different direction. Tonight was not a
time for conversation. Tonight, she had
to make peace with the demons of her
nightmares. And that was for no one but her
to figure out. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Wed Sep
29 01:59:04 2010
Subject     Meeting things along the way

It all
seemed sureal as she rode along with the troops following the
GrandMaster. The
trees even seemed quieter than normal to her. Usually she
could read and see
things as she traveled, this time there seemed to be
nothing that would reveal
anything to her. Still, she rode, following orders
given to her by the leaders
of the Knighthood. Her orders were clear; she
was a healer and that was her job.


Something strange caught her attention, as it did the others in the
group.
Just a mere turn of her head and she found herself laying on the ground
with
her head aching. The fighting knights, as she called them, gathered
with
their friends, and together, they attacked. In the end, the friends
and
allies stood together with the knights and, with what she could do to
help,
the creature fell to the ground. 

She started to walk away to round up
the horses that got scattered in the
process, but stopped short, almost running
into the GrandMaster. He had
watched her efforts and her success on the field of
battle and, then and
there, ordered her to kneel. He took the still bloody
sword, and with her
oath, she stood a shocked look on her face. The GrandMaster
merely smiled
and walked away to gather his thoughts. 

Author:   
Zanra          
Date:      Fri Oct  1 13:42:21 2010
Subject     Grief
for the past

Even where she stood, the news of the happenings in her
homeland hit her
hard. People she knew were gone or captured, and she could do
little but
mourn them where she was.

She didn't really know exactly what had
occurred, only that the people
around the forest had been overran and beaten.
One part of her just wanted
to open a portal and step through to see if she
could find any survivors and
take them to safety, but another part knew her duty
to her oath. It was now
that the reality of what her father had gone through
seemed to dawn on her.
He too did what he knew was right, forsaking everything
else. And as his
daughter, she too had to make the difficult decision to remain
where she
was. It wasn't only the elves that she had grown up with and had
played with
as a child that mattered, the safety of others who looked up to
those like
her was at stake. 

The walls were really the only things that seemed
to know her pain and her
sorrow. She would not show it to anyone else, that was
not her way. Instead,
she barred herself in a lonely room and grieved, pouring
out her emotions. 

She finished late into the afternoon. Clearing her face of
emotion and
locking her pain and grief inside her, she exited the lonely room
and made
her way to recieve orders from the leaders. 

Author:   
Zanra          
Date:      Sun Oct 24 15:02:14 2010
Subject     Pushing
forward

The land was different than how she remembered it. The trees
were no
longer happy. Instead they drooped and almost seemed angry and sad in
their
appearance. All together, Zanra was angry and saddened at what had
happened
to her childhood homeland.

The atmosphere, too, seemed familiar, but
the same from her youth. With a
glance over her shoulder at the GrandMaster, she
dismounted and walked into
the forest. She found what she searched for. With
careful hands, she lifted
the old box from it's resting place and emptied the
contents into an unused
pouch. With a silent prayer to Paladine, she lit the old
wooden box on fire
and watched it burn. Once it was completely destroyed, she
returned to the
rest of the Solamnics and mounted her horse. With another glance
at the
GrandMaster, she followed them back to the camp.

That night seemed cold
and eerie. The battle ravaged land was quiet. The
darkness had dwarfed even the
hottest bonfire. Yet, from the forest came a
sound that only Zanra knew. She
rose from her fitfull sleep, donned her
clothing and a cloak and followed the
noise.

A sheltered fire burned inside a well concealed cave. She was met at
the
entrance by Qualinosti elves, their weapons pointed directly at
her.
Reluctantly, they lowered their weapons when she gave the passcode that
made
her known to them.

Their leader sat near the fire, his arm broken and
bloody. Near him, others
fared little better. Zanra approached them with
caution. "Quenta solari nen
heth y mori Firthing D'l'athil. Droviala Zanra
d'Zaradene," she said to him.
He glanced at her and glared. "Is your true
heritage so degraded by your
human blood that you forgot your true name and who
you are?" he asked,
attempting to rise. She beat him to it, kneeling next to
him. "I've
forgotten nothing Firth. I know exactly who I am," she retorted,
lifting his
injured arm and starting to unwrap the bandages. He merely looked at
her
with a hooded glance. "Prove it, Zanralansana," he said, the
challenge
ringing in his voice. She dropped the bloody bandages to the ground
and drew
on what she knew as a healer, healing the break and closing the open
wounds.
He merely watched her, his gaze still challenging her.

With Firth's
gaze still on her, she moved around and healed the others who
were hurt by the
battles. When she'd finished she stood up, heading for the
cave entrance. Firth
stood in front of her, his battered sword brandished.
"Firth, move aside," she
said, stepping to one side to pass. Instead, Firth
moved in front of her. "Does
the blood of the Caladon line run so cowardly
that you hide behind armor bound
oafs who use you? Or do you still possess
what you once did? " he said, dropping
the sword in challenge. She merely
stepped back. "Firth, they need you to lead
them. I am in no position to do
that anymore," Zanra said. "I gave my oath."
Firth laughed. "Gave your oath
to those who took you from us to begin with. You
should have stayed here
instead of turning Valth like your mother," he said.


Zanra dropped her cloak behind her before she even realized she did it.
She
reached for a weapon, realizing that she had not brought one. Firth
laughed.
"Do you rely on steel like them?" he taunted, grabbing her arm and
flipping
her over his shoulder. 

Zanra hit the ground, rolling to her feet. She
stood, watching him. He
circled her, taunting her with the names she was called
as a child. When he
insulted her mother a second time, she stepped toward him,
lunging at him,
only to land on her back again. She rolled, finding a crude
dagger at her
throat. "You've gone soft Zanralansana. Did the armor wearers not
test your
skills, or did they merely hand you gear and say fight like they did
to
traitors like your mother?" he asked, pushing on the knife. With a
growl,
Zanra grabbed the hand with the knife and flipped him. She rolled, coming
to
her feet. "You know nothing Firth," she said, moving carefully. 

They
fought, each of them seeming to take advantage, then the other turning
the fight
around. A rustle brought the fight to a halt as a sentry came
rushing in, blood
streaming from a large cut on his shoulder. Zanra healed
him as he delivered the
message of a fight nearby. Firth tossed Zanra a
knife. "Prove your skills or be
branded traitor like your mother," he said
as he left. She needed no other
encouragement. 

The fight was mostly one sided, the newly healed elves
outnumbering the
intruders. Zanra and Firth finished off the last few, then
stood and looked
at each other. "You haven't forgotten what you once knew,"
Firth said, his
voice now normal and calm. Zanra handed him back the knife she
was given. "I
haven't forgotten, and I won't ever forget who I once was. You
made this my
home, even when my mother did what she did to make sure that we
could get
weapons to the others. On the outside, she was HIS whore. Never on
the
inside, " she said, dropping her head. Firth walked to her. "I know. I
was
just seeing if you were still hot tempered," he said, laughing. 

The cave
was much more friendly when she entered it this time. The fighters
included her
in the jokes, making her laugh. Firth sat for a while,
watching. Finally he
stood up, raising one hand. "At one time, you stood
with us and led part of us
against THEM. Something happened and somehow one
of THEM got ahold of you and
you left us. I saw when you took your box out
of it's hiding place, burning the
box, but not the contents. That says
something for you. That box could have
gotten lots of us in trouble. I trust
that you will not use the contents of the
box against us," he said, looking
directly at her. Zanra nodded. "The contents
are safe and will be used only
by me. THEY have no need for what was in there,
nor will the items fall into
the hands of THEM," she said, nodding. Firth
smiled. "Although you are one
of the armor wearers, I name Zanralansana,
daughter of Aileansana
Ravensister, one of us." The elves cheered, showing their
approval. Zanra
merely nodded. "The secrets of us are safe. I must return before
I'm missed.
Quenta solari nen heth y mori my brothers and sisters," she said,
leaving
the cave. 

The sun was just beginning to rise as she slipped back into
her tent. Mere
moments later the call from the sentries was made to rise and
make ready for
travel. Zanra merely smiled and put her armor on. 

As the
Solamnics left the forest, Zanra heard the sound from the night
before and
smiled, following along. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:     
Wed Nov  3 20:13:06 2010
Subject     Re-awakening

The travelers moved
only as fast as the horses pulling the wagons with
supplies. Zanra sat on the
horse that she had been given at the head of the
lines, just behind the
GrandMaster and the Lord of the Crown. She listened
to everything around her,
her elven ears straining to hear what could be
around her. Nothing sounded
amiss. In fact, everything sounded like it
should. 

She noticed that the fields
seemed greener than normal as they traveled.
With a shake of her head, she
wondered why plans had changed, but then
again, she had been privy to little of
the planning as she had just recently
stepped into her current assignment.

The
young half-elf heard something strange and turned her head to look. As
soon as
she did, her vision was filled with blood. She slipped off her mount
and stood
her ground, for mere moments. She was thrown off her feet by a
blast from a
nearby enemy. She landed hard, dropping her shield in the
process. She managed
to rise to her feet, dazed and fighting as well as she
could.

Zanra looked
around her as she fought, trying to find which direction to go
next. Yet every
direction seemed awash with the enemy. Her training and
practice with the skills
that defined her as a cleric were not answering her
prayers and her faith in
Paladine was seemingly non-existant. She couldn't
seem to actually heal anyone
or anything around her. It seemed to her tha
Paladine had forsaken her in this
time and place.

A voice in her head belayed her thoughts. "I have not forsaken
you, young
one," the male voice said quietly. She darted one way, then the next
in her
attempts to fight, but the numbers were overwhelming. 

She dropped to
one knee, only to roll out of the way of an incoming attack.
Yet it wasn't
enough. She saw her end before her eyes, and dropped her mace
at her side to
recieve the killing blow... 



Brilliant light enveloped her. The blow seemed
to pass through her and she
blacked out for moments in time.

The light
disappeared, and she was on the sand where her journey all began,
water lapping
nearby. She tried to stand, but her legs buckled, refusing to
hold her weight.
She managed to make her way to her knees and turned her
head from side to side.
Instead of the bloody battlefield, she saw others
who had stood on the
battlefield beside her, all of them struggling to rise,
and a good many more
struggling to make sense of it all. The rush of feet
from nearby, brought her
head back toward them. Squires in Solamnic clothes
and the healers who were
their allies came toward them, anxious of all the
commotion. Inside her head,
the voice seemed saddened. "That was unexpected
and unwarranted, youngling. I
gave you a gift. I won't be around to help all
the time. Use it a bit more
wisely this time," it said before Zanra's eyes
rolled back in her head and she
fell to the ground with a thud.

The sensation of flying was the next thing she
felt. Pure and total
weightlessness, followed by an excrutiating pain in her
shoulder and neck.
She managed to force one eye open, glancing around her. She
was being
carried on a stretcher by squires who had been left for defenses. She
tried
to sit up, but a light hand on her shoulder had her dropping back to
the
cloth beneath her, exclaiming in pain. "Rest Lady Knight. You need to
be
seen by the healers," a voice said from beside her. Zanra shook her
head,
again attempting to sit up. This time she managed it, hissing in pain
and
frustration. Around her, similar scenes were being replayed.

A nearby
healer knelt beside her. Zanra heard the prayers to Mishakal as a
feeling of
content and the healer's prayers were answered. Zanra felt her
body lay back
down. She closed her eyes, bringing darkness to her mind. 

Author:   
Zanra          
Date:      Sun Nov  7 04:54:46 2010
Subject     Healing
the wounded

Stiffness and a throbbing ache was the first thing that
Zanra noticed as
she slowly wakened from her healing sleep. She opened her eyes.
The lights
around her were dim. She raised a hand and lifted it to her neck. She
felt
the light bandage there. With a careful probe, she felt under the
bandage,
assessing her injury. The cut ran from just under her ear to under the
light
tunic she wore. She turned her head, looking around at the other
injured
people in the beds, all of them bandaged and being cared for. Another
glance
showed her that all around her clerics and squires moved meticulously,
their
efforts to make the injured better, apparent in their actions.

A nearby
cleric noticed her movements and quickly made her way to the
bedside. Zanra
lowered her hand to the bed, letting the woman look her over.
After a cursory
check, the woman nodded. "How do you feel today, Lady?" she
asks, her fingertips
lightly probing the bandage on her neck. Zanra hissed,
but remained still. The
woman shook her head. "There's nothing we can do for
the scar that wound is
going to leave." Zanra nodded. "It can't be helped,"
she said. With some effort,
she managed to sit up. Again she looked at the
cleric. "I'll heal."

She sat
back as the cleric checked over her. When the cleric finished with
her
ministration. "You can move around the camp, but please, don't cause
more injury
to yourself," the cleric said, a stern look on her face. Zanra
smiled shyly and
nodded. "Tell me, have all the survivors been healed?"
Zanra asked, glancing
around again. The cleric sighed and shook her head.
"We have healed everyone who
has allowed us. The only one who has refused
anything we can do has been Lord
Lanfer. To this day, he sits outside or in
a small room nearby and refuses to
let us heal his wounds," the cleric said.
Zanra shook her head, sighing. "I'll
talk to him. He needs to be seen," she
said quietly. The cleric nodded, standing
and returning to healing.

Zanra rose to her feet, taking a few moments to
gather her balance. With an
unsteady center of balance, she made her way to an
area where warm water
steamed in pools. With unsteady hands, she slowly slipped
into the water,
biting back the cry of pain as the steaming water hit the sore
muscles and
open wounds. Once she got used to the water, she sat back in the
highback
tub and closed her eyes, resting and letting the water help with the
sore,
stiff muscles. She rose from the water before it got cold. A young
squire
brought her a cotton clerical robe. With a smile, she donned it, as well
as
simple footwear before she set out into the daylight. Seeing the
building
that the cleric had mentioned, she carefully made her way to it.


Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Wed Nov 17 15:37:15
2010
Subject     Seeker

The tent city was held by a strange eerie
silence as the sun peeked over
the horizon. Very few people moved in the early
rays of the morning. Zanra
sat quietly on a tall tree branch, her back braced
against the bark of the
large tree. She merely sat and watched as the sentries
changed and new ones
took their places.

One glance back toward the main healing
area showed her that the doors to
the buildings were still closed and, perhaps,
those who needed sleep still
grasped the healing that it could do. Her own
wounds were all but healed,
still aching if she overused the muscles that had
been pulled and injured.

She carefully climbed down from the branch, landing
back on the ground. With
a sigh, she walked quietly to her tent and entered it.
Allowing her eyes to
adjust to the dim light within, she picked up an empty
backpack and started
stuffing things that she should need into it. When she
finished, she pulled
a piece of parchment from nearby and quickly penned a
note.

Her armor tucked under cloth, she quietly made her way to the
GrandMaster's
quarters. With slow, deliberate movements, she slid the note under
the door
and made her way out of the tent city and into the forests nearby. 

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