Aless Frostborn
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- Messages
- 48
- Character Biography
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The comforting thump of her axe cleaving through a section of log into the splitting stump soothed the racing thoughts that had haunted her since her dream. It was still early morning,the sun just now climbing over the horizon rather than the dim light of false dawn only so easily seen through because of her elven blood. Edurne’s bark nearby told her that already the sheep were moving about, probably the newborn lambs trying to frolick. She’d laid out in the field with them and woken soaked in dew.
Life near the Spine in spring suited her just fine. The mountains were gorgeous when compared to much of the rest of the lands she had carved her way across, paying lip service to those powerful who hired her while working truly for herself to satisfy the black beast of malice that dug its wicked spurs into her heart. She hated her memories of those days. It was the root and the bulk of the things she most wanted to undo.
Change was a difficult thing for one as dark and hateful as Aless Frostborn. Her longing for peace was as delicate and new as the fresh shooting buds of spring flowers.
It was the price of her old life that had changed her, the incredible cost of friends lost, fed into the fanged maw of War, and the betrayal that ached in her chest still, more vicious than any bodily wound she had ever taken. It seemed to actively resent healing and sent poison coursing through her veins.
Edurne’s bark alerted her to something rare: strangers coming up the path. She was used to relative solitude, a good twenty minutes’ walk from the village. She left the wood but kept the axe as she approached the two figures. The man was clearly a warrior and an experienced one at that, walking beside the waifish woman as her protector. Neither seemed concerned.
“Aless Frostborn?” the young woman called. She wore the vestments of a cleric, but not of a god Aless recognized.
The way the woman spoke her name told Aless that she was ignorant of its significance. “What do you want?” Her tone was brusque, as usual. She didn’t care for strangers disrupting her peace.
“It is said that you are a great warrior,” the young woman said. “We need the help of such a hero.”
Aless’s lips pressed into a thin frown. “There are no heroes here,” she said sharply as she approached with her axe resting against her shoulder.
“Please,” the young woman pleaded. “Our temple is desecrated, dark magic seeping from every crack. It will turn its eyes here soon enough.”
Aless studied her invaders’ expressions. There was more truth there than she felt comfortable with it. The idea of harm coming to her village stirred unfamiliar worry in her chest. “I have sworn to set aside my old life,” she said quietly. “What you ask of me is not done lightly.”
“The fate of many innocents hangs in the balance. Will you go?” the bodyguard asked.
Aless was silent a long moment, weighing her options. Part of her was eager, hoping for blood and fire. The rest tried clinging to fragile hope. “I will see what must be done,” she said finally. “Perhaps a sword will not be required.”
Their relief was obvious. “Good, good. The others are nearby. May that be enough to undertake this task.”
She sighed at the mention of others. Hopefully they would be equal to the task. “Let me grab my kit and horse, then I will greet them,” she said with that same brusqueness. She prayed that this dark mage or two would be reasonable even though she knew better than that.
She was not certain who they might have recruited and brought nearby, but she knew she would be skeptical when she met them. She also needed to speak with Nagar. If she was to leave her home, someone should tend to it and his family could use the extra food.
Aless put her hand on a fence post and looked at her home. She would miss it, repairing the thatch roof, feeding the chickens, tending to the sheep, weeding the garden. It was a sorrow she couldn’t have imagined three years ago.
People were waiting. She needed to get ready and leave.
Life near the Spine in spring suited her just fine. The mountains were gorgeous when compared to much of the rest of the lands she had carved her way across, paying lip service to those powerful who hired her while working truly for herself to satisfy the black beast of malice that dug its wicked spurs into her heart. She hated her memories of those days. It was the root and the bulk of the things she most wanted to undo.
Change was a difficult thing for one as dark and hateful as Aless Frostborn. Her longing for peace was as delicate and new as the fresh shooting buds of spring flowers.
It was the price of her old life that had changed her, the incredible cost of friends lost, fed into the fanged maw of War, and the betrayal that ached in her chest still, more vicious than any bodily wound she had ever taken. It seemed to actively resent healing and sent poison coursing through her veins.
Edurne’s bark alerted her to something rare: strangers coming up the path. She was used to relative solitude, a good twenty minutes’ walk from the village. She left the wood but kept the axe as she approached the two figures. The man was clearly a warrior and an experienced one at that, walking beside the waifish woman as her protector. Neither seemed concerned.
“Aless Frostborn?” the young woman called. She wore the vestments of a cleric, but not of a god Aless recognized.
The way the woman spoke her name told Aless that she was ignorant of its significance. “What do you want?” Her tone was brusque, as usual. She didn’t care for strangers disrupting her peace.
“It is said that you are a great warrior,” the young woman said. “We need the help of such a hero.”
Aless’s lips pressed into a thin frown. “There are no heroes here,” she said sharply as she approached with her axe resting against her shoulder.
“Please,” the young woman pleaded. “Our temple is desecrated, dark magic seeping from every crack. It will turn its eyes here soon enough.”
Aless studied her invaders’ expressions. There was more truth there than she felt comfortable with it. The idea of harm coming to her village stirred unfamiliar worry in her chest. “I have sworn to set aside my old life,” she said quietly. “What you ask of me is not done lightly.”
“The fate of many innocents hangs in the balance. Will you go?” the bodyguard asked.
Aless was silent a long moment, weighing her options. Part of her was eager, hoping for blood and fire. The rest tried clinging to fragile hope. “I will see what must be done,” she said finally. “Perhaps a sword will not be required.”
Their relief was obvious. “Good, good. The others are nearby. May that be enough to undertake this task.”
She sighed at the mention of others. Hopefully they would be equal to the task. “Let me grab my kit and horse, then I will greet them,” she said with that same brusqueness. She prayed that this dark mage or two would be reasonable even though she knew better than that.
She was not certain who they might have recruited and brought nearby, but she knew she would be skeptical when she met them. She also needed to speak with Nagar. If she was to leave her home, someone should tend to it and his family could use the extra food.
Aless put her hand on a fence post and looked at her home. She would miss it, repairing the thatch roof, feeding the chickens, tending to the sheep, weeding the garden. It was a sorrow she couldn’t have imagined three years ago.
People were waiting. She needed to get ready and leave.