Aislinn Pre-quel - Battle Creep

Eight years pre-campaign

Aislinn, daughter of Sarah, wandered the shores of the Crystal River, a few hour’s walk north of Caer Talldyr. Ostensibly, she searched for herbs, but at nineteen she mostly enjoyed the late spring weather and being out on her own. She hadn’t even realized she’d wandered so far, but her basket did show the fruits of her labors: Foxglove, moss, comfrey, nettles, and various other medicinal plants lay quietly within.

The young woman flitted through the trees and brush that grew along the banks, almost ghostly in her movements and coloring. She was tall and slender with pale skin, white-blonde hair and eyes as clear a blue as the river. Against the more ruddy people of Caer Talldyr, she stood out like spray of wildflowers at the base of a tree. That was part of why she was out searching for herbs. They didn’t really need them, but she needed to escape. She was tired of feeling different and still feeling a little heart-sick over the loss of her latest romantic relationship.

“Go on, then and while you’re out, see what you can find for herbs, dear,” Sarah told her with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Mother, for understanding,” Aislinn smiled and hugged the woman tightly. Then, she placed her large, floppy hat on her head, grabbed her basket and her staff and set off on her excursion.

She spotted a patch of bruiseweed on the opposite bank and she smiled. The young priestess (she’d been ordained just the year before), set about finding a good place to ford the river. She pulled off her sturdy shoes and socks, then stepped carefully across, using the larger stones as her bridge.

She gauged the distance of her second-to-last hop carefully. Or at least she thought she did. She had the presence of mind to toss her basket to the riverbank she faced before she fell, arms pinwheeling comically. Letting out a little scream of frustration, she fell backwards, her staff helping the process, into the river, sending up a huge splash, drenching her from head to toe. Fortunately, the river wasn’t deep at this point, just coming up to her waist as she sat, looking around in disbelief. Then, she laughed. A sound bright as sunshine and full of life.

“Fortunately, the day is warm and clear, so it won’t take long for me to dry,” she sighed to herself. Aislinn wrung out her long hair as she stood, then waded the rest of the way to where her basket waited, herbs spilling from it every which way. She gathered them all and made her way to the patch of herbs she’d seen before crossing.

A discordant sound caught her attention when she wandered further up the river bank. Metal against metal rang on the air, then a distant cry of a child. In an instant, she was up and running toward it. Caer Talldyr had seen a trickle of refugees over the last few years and news of the war came to them. Catching up her staff as she passed it, Aislinn quickly found the source of the disturbance.

Skirmish was actually a better word for it she’d believe, later. What she came upon made the color drain from her face and her stomach roil.

A group of humans, probably two families, faced off against a smaller group of young-looking Bri-Choshu. Blood spattered both sides of the conflict as the women herded the children forward, trying to get some distance between them and the fighting. None of them had seen her, yet since she’d hunkered down behind a tree instead of just running full-tilt into the mess.

Aislinn had spent some of the last few years in training with several weapons. That sparring didn’t prepare her in the least for the sheer brutality she witnessed, now. Her eyes widened until they couldn’t open any wider at the horror these people inflicted on each other. She watched helplessly when one Choshu thrust his blade into his opponent. Blood spilled, coating the blade, the man’s side then the ground as he dropped to it. The flash of sunlight on metal was all the warning the Choshu had before being cut down in turn. The sickening sound of a blade rending flesh would stay with Aislinn for a long, long time.

Screaming and crying, the women stumbled up the path with their children. Aislinn stepped out from behind the tree at that point. The women, understandably startled, pulled their daggers, intending to defend their children to the last. Aislinn held up her hands, then gestured to the silver crescent moon she wore around her neck. Realizing the young woman was a priestess of the Moonmother, they relaxed.

“Come now,” Aislinn said, forcing a smile. “Let’s get you further down the path. Caer Talldyr isn’t far from here. I’ll see what I can do to help.”

“Bless you, priestess,” one woman said, sobbing as she took a last look behind her.

“After we get you on your way, I’ll see what I can do to help them, too,” the priestess said reassuringly. “I’ll show you where I crossed. It’s not very deep, but I don’t recommend using the stones,” she managed a grin.

Taking in her bedraggled appearance, one woman nodded. None of them had it in them to be charmed into even a smile. Bleakness and worry took over their expressions while the small children clung like burrs to their clothes. “No, I think we’ll just wade across. Thank you. The town is south of here?”

“It is, yes. Just follow the river and you’ll see the signs of it,” Aislinn assured her. She stayed to watch as the first of them started wading across the river, then she turned and headed back to the fighting. There was a part of her that urged her to go with the women and she almost gave in to it.

When she returned, it was to find two more obviously dead and several wounded. Sickened by the sight, she still continued forward. As one man reached back to skewer one of the prone Choshu, a scream clawed it’s way out of Aislinn’s throat.

“No!” she shouted, running forward. The men all turned, surprised etched on their faces as she ran up and yanked the sword from the man’s hand. “No!” she yelled again. “It’s over! Done. Your women and children are on their way to Caer Talldyr.” She gestured at the unconscious elven man. “He’s not going to get up and follow you. Let me tend your wounds as best I can. My mother is the priestess of the town and will see to you more properly when you get there.”

“Get outta may way, missy,” growled the man who’s sword she took. “They deserve everything they get and what this one’s gonna get is death.”

Something inside Aislinn firmed up and she stood to her full height. Her blue eyes narrowed and she gripped her staff tighter. Tossing the sword at the man’s feet, she gazed at him fiercely. She looked more like a drowned rat than an imposing priestess, but the sun glinted off her holy symbol, catching the men’s eyes. “Go on, then,” she said quietly, her anger cooling to that of the glaciers in the northern seas. “Murder him in front of me, if you have the guts.”

The men looked at each other and the sword-owner picked up his weapon. He and Aislinn stood off against each other for a long moment and the priestess actually feared he would go through with it. She wondered if she’d be brave enough to take the blow herself. Her grip grew white-knuckled on her staff before the man growled and turned away. “Bloody priestesses,” he muttered.

The priestess in question breathed a silent sigh of relief and followed after them. She tended their hurts as best they could and sent them on to her mother with the message that she’d replace the herbs she’d used before coming home. When the men were out of sight, she picked up her basket and raced back to the small battleground.

The coppery smell of blood in the air nearly made her sick to her stomach, and the sight of various organs spilling out of bodies would haunt her sleep for weeks. Still, she slid to her knees beside the Bri-Choshu still alive and began her work. Technically she shouldn’t have left him but if she hadn’t, she knew the human men would have killed him.

“Forgive me, Mother, but I think I did the right thing,” she prayed aloud, although softly. Carefully, Aislinn set to work. She cleaned and bandaged cuts and slashes and looked over the bruises. The one that concerned her most was the large purplish one radiating out from his temple. She crushed some bruiseweed, added some moss to it and applied it to his head, cutting a strip from her skirt to tie it into place.

“Blessed Mother, I pray you allow him to live,” she said, praying harder than she ever had in her life. Aislinn feared the Choshu wouldn’t see the sun set as it was. “This whole thing doesn’t seem right, somehow. Why would they do what they’re accused of? Please, Mother… let him live,” she breathed, pressing the bandage into place.

A slow feeling of peace, warmth and euphoria slid down Aislinn’s spine at first. Then down her arms and she watched in brief fascination as her hands began glowing a silvery-blue. Then all was lost in the ecstatic glow of Mathern’s grace as it flowed through her new priestess and into the man she tended. When the feeling left her, she breathed heavily and watched in awe as the Choshu opened marvelous lavender eyes to gaze upon her.

He started to rise, and she shushed him, pushing him back down to the ground. When he struggled, she lifted her necklace to him with a gentle smile. He muttered something in his own language and lay back, though he turned his head to see the damage done. When his eyes met hers again, Aislinn’s were filled with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know your language and I’m sorry for your losses, here.” The priestess hoped her expression told him how she felt. ”Mother, thank you,” she sent silently, still in awe of what passed through her.

The Bri-Choshu placed a hand over his heart and said, “Veryamorcon,” he said. It took a couple of repetitions for Aislinn to realize he was informing her of his name.

“Oh!” she said and smiled. “Aislinn,’ she continued, making the same gesture. “Ver… Very… “ she sighed and shook her head. The elvish vowels and consonants getting the best of her. “Very, then,” she grinned, her blue eyes twinkling.

The Choshu nodded at the diminuative. He might have laughed about it at another time but the loss of his brethen rested sharply and deeply within him. He once more tried to stand. When Aislinn tried to keep him down, he brushed her off as gently as he could and showed her he was completely healed, thanks to her prayer. He bowed, said something in his own language again, then turned and blended into the trees. Aislinn watched the space where he’d been, dazed. Then she smiled and picked up her belongings with shaking hands and started making her way back home. Every step of the way, she marveled at the way Mathern had blessed her and thanked the Moonmother from the bottom of her heart.