Chapter 1: It Starts

The world went crazy. I don't even know how it happened. It wasn't long ago when I was minding my own business in the Elmwood forests, as well as could be expected at least. I focused on the histories with my father, cultural crafting with my mother, and music and dance with my many cousins.

I even took bow practices from this boy who I thought liked me. I began to think differently after he shot me in the arm with an arrow after  I kept missing my target. Let's just say I was not born to be a fighter. In fact, I think I am the worst Elven fighter alive.

Becoming a Bard wasn't something I chose, it chose me by a process of illumination. I discovered I am perfect for it. Turns out, I'm only really good at learning, histories, crafting and music. I'm fairly decent at many things: interacting with people being very high on the list and fighting being at the bottom. Let's be honest, my only real option was to become a Bard, a jack of all trades. My mother was proud of me as I came of age; I think my father expected more.

His disappointment fueled, in part, this irrational attempt to go into the world and prove myself. I don't feel extremely drawn to adventure, but I suppose that is how you grow up. My mother always said that, I'm beginning to think she was right. I have to have adventure to become who I want to be, someone who is confident and worthy to be an Elf.

Well, that's the long and short of it--why I am here in this bustling Port of Cina. I look at the other ones in this dim yet extravagant tent trying to understand what this mostly drunk merchant is requesting of us.

His name is Noctis and apparently he is good at what he does, though his presence makes me question the methods. The tent is filled wall to wall, from floor to ceiling of ornate wares and ancient artifacts. I could tell the histories of over half of the objects here, but I had a feeling that would not help me in this quest.

What am I doing here? Why am I even listening to this? I have no money and my expansive knowledge and persuasive manner (not to mention pretty face) will only get me so far. I should just go home and accept my fate as a reject in the Elmwood Forest. But that is why I left, I still have something to prove. And I will--to the others and to myself. I listen closer to this dark man to decipher what we, this unlikely band of characters, must accomplish or die trying.

The portly man speaks of an island even I know little about--Morrow Island. The tales from the exotic region are wild and dangerous, though I always suspected intense exaggeration. Nonetheless, my fingers were twitching and my breath quickened at the thought of this certainly suicidal adventure. Yet something inside me yearned for excitement and an opportunity to challenge myself. I'm ready to race out and start an adventure. I told you the world went crazy--turns out I went crazy with it.

The quest is this: travel to the Isle of Morrow and collect the crone's egg. It seems like a simple mission. We would get gold now and a choice of any wares within Noctis' tent if we returned. That would be a fantastic souvenir to tell about my adventure. It should only take a handful of days and then I could go home victorious. This is what I wanted to believe, but somehow, I knew it would not be that easy. Not many fairy tales are written without a kernel of truth and legends are often proved true.

It wasn't even about the 3,000 gold that we would obtain simply from agreeing to attempt this quest. This is the adventure I have been waiting for. This is the opportunity I need to prove that I can not only survive, but thrive in the world. Or I would die, but I'd try really hard not to let that happen.

I look around at the others gathered around me slowly beginning to nod in agreement. It seems I am not the only one hurting for gold, have something to prove, or perhaps, a death wish.

A human man leans against the tent post looking like he had not a care in the world. He was rugged, bearded and daring. The elaborate forest camouflage cloak and the worn strings of his bow insinuate that he is a skilled ranger. I breath in his scent, for it is closest to me, and waft in the smell of pine sap and blossoming flowers. It was a lingering essence of spending many nights among the earth sleeping under the stars. He smelled like home.

Beside him stood an intimidating sight. The human woman was dressed from head to toe in armor with a strong shield strapped to her back. The spear and sword lightly graze each other as she shifts, reminding me of the wind chimes back in Elmwood that I would help my mother make. Somehow, through the armor, I see this woman's soft face as she smiles. I think we could be good friends. Maybe she would even teach me some techniques of the sword so I won't perish in hand to hand combat.

There is a gnome almost hiding in the corner of the tent beside an extremely ornate set of gold armor. He does not look as if he is frightened, but that he is cunning and has survived many hard battles. He is very grey and moves in complete silence, even to my sensitive ears. I'm going to have to keep an eye on him.

The halfling intrigues me. He stands tall and strong with a hand resting on his riding dog. He wears woven sandals strapped to his fee and looks as though he woke up from among the leaves. There are twigs, leaves and patches of dirt sporadically covering  him and his dog. The druidic influence pours over me as I soak up the sharp intelligence behind the eyes of the pair. These two experienced allies could become very worthy companions indeed.

I take a moment to wonder how I look to them. I am short, even for an elf. I am young, older than the humans, but young for my race. I'm sure this and the inexperience that goes with it are quite apparent to them all. Perhaps my eagerness is as well. My color is purple and it adores my form fitting three-quarter sleeve blouse. A flowing purple skirt shimmers with gold stops just short of my dark leather boots. My golden hair sweeps over the small of my back covering my quiver and bow.

My bow is snug on my back and I am a little self-conscious that it has only been shot a handful of times. My bow, Asha (Spirit), has a story, like so many things do. My father gave it to me when I decided it was time to set out from Elmwood on my coming-to-age-challenge. He took me to the edge of the clearing where I shot my bow for the first and only time. My father told me something very important that day, something I will never forget. He said, "Lorien, there is a point in every Elves' life where she must not only learn knowledge, but put that knowledge into practice. That is where wisdom comes from. But no matter where the Great Winds take you, do not forget your home--do not forget who you are. You are my daughter, sweet Lorien, and I love you."

I suppose now is as good a time as any to turn knowledge into experience--I sure could use some wisdom. And so, our unlikely band was formed and our quest presented. Now we just had to wait until morning.