The Waif
by Bablistia Cloud'Obelisk

The sylvan community of Masu Artingas, which translated from the wood elf tongue means Darkening Spruce, had always been much like any other small sylph village. For the most part the sylphs living within those sheltering spruce trees kept wholly to themselves, unconcerned with the political shenanigans of war and intrigue which brewed around them where they lay hidden in the woods very close to the dark elven city of Ta'Faendryl.

However there came one particular instance of confrontation that left the sylvans of Darkening Spruce fearful their little hamlet might be cursed, as had been the sylph city of legend, Yuriqen. Therefore, they attempted a "stealth attack" upon the dark elves of Ta'Faendryl before they could be themselves attacked. This proved a costly error on their part. With no knowledge of the strategy of such a tactic, the sylphs failed most miserably in carrying it off, and the only result was that the dark elves of Ta'Faendryl were much angered by the "paltry attempt at war" on the part of these wood elves. Accordingly they did much as any dark elves would do in such a situation, they cursed what was most important to their "enemies". In the case of any sylvan community, there is no doubt such was and will ever be the seven modwirs of the Holy Cluster.

Fortunately, because of their supreme wisdom with regard to nature, the sylphs of Masu Artingas were able to save most of the modwirs of the cluster. Yet unfortunately, the one they could not save was the most important one of all, the great Celestial Modwir. This symbolic tree of the joining of body, mind and spirit and the seasons of all life, withered and died from gross disease, leaving the sylvans of this community in a frenzy of mourning lasting many, many months.

During this period of mourning very few children were conceived or born to the sylvans of Masu Artingas. And all of those infants so conceived and born during this time were frail and weak, almost as if the disease of the Celestial Modwir filled them as well. Most of these babes died upon birth or shortly thereafter. A very few survived, but of these few one who did had been born to a simple ranger and his ranger wife. This couple stood not very high in the hierarchy of the community, but had their place, as did any sylvan. The wife died shortly after giving birth to the babe in question, while the distraught father named the child Bablistia, meaning she who stems from confusion.

With the passage of time, the frenzy of the sylvans of Darkening Spruce over the death of the Celestial Modwir of their Holy Cluster faded, and they returned to their normal calm and pragmatic mien. They set about properly replacing the tree by receiving a blessed acorn from the Celestial Modwir of a neighboring sylph hamlet. This they carefully set about planting and tending with utmost care. The new tree took root and began to grow and the sylphs felt the "curse of the dark elves" leave their community.

But Bablistia, and the few others surviving like her who had been conceived and born during the time of the "darkness", presented the Hierophants of the community with some difficult decisions. These little ones were full sylph and thus part of the community without a doubt, but they betrayed certain oddities. Bablistia herself, with the face and frail form of an almost ethereal being, yet possessed what was referred to as the "black emerald" eyes, green eyes that showed only darkness when gazed into deeply. These children were sickly and not able to be part of the more active woodland life of the village.

Thus it was decided by the Hierophants that these particular sylphs, should they survive to maturity, would not be allowed to continue their blood into the line of the community. The Hierophants knew the secrets of many rites of nature, including the cutting necessary to make barren or sterile any born during a time of curse. Bablistia's father, with just the one child and his wife dead, was given decree by the Hierophants to remarry. A mate was chosen for him in the usual way of the community, and he entered this second union knowing only children of this marriage would be permitted to continue his lineage. His daughter by his first union, it was decided, would be taught the sorcery arts, since her frailty made it impossible for her to become a ranger of the community, as had been both her parents.

Bablistia proved herself bright and eager to learn. Her aptitude toward sorcery amazed, pleased, awed and frightened her teachers all at once. Her father, who soon boasted a large family from his second union, was simply relieved his odd daughter had found a niche in the community. But as to more than that, he became less and less concerned with her as she grew. She would often wander the woods alone for many hours and even at the darkest times of night. He took no especial notice and many began to see her as a mere "waif".

The girl took a dedicated interest in certain things, such as the story of Imaera creating Jaston from a dead sylph and imbuing him with special powers and unique beauty. She daydreamed about being made strong by some such similar method of intervention on the part of a god for, as she aged and matured, she became physically weaker and weaker. Most of the community did not expect her to survive into adulthood. In truth, the others who like her who remained from the time of frenzy, began to die off one by one, until she alone remained.

One day during one of her uninhibited forays into the woods, she espied a young man. He was incredible to look upon, with bronzed skin combined most oddly with pure white hair. Lean and muscular, he yet had the general physical appearance of a dark elf. So Bablistia kept her distance, but she watched him in awe. Never had she seen such a being. He would come into the woods and kill beasts with his bare hands, and then drink greedily of their blood. She came to look for him, to shadow him. Finally one day he let on that he knew of her presence and had for some time by saying, "Woodland waif, you seem rather… weary today."

Coming forward hesitantly, Bablistia replied, "I am… not feeling very well, I must admit, mystical one." The amazing being nodded sagely. "And feel less and less well each day, do you not, woodland waif?" he forwarded easily. "I am," stumbled out Bablistia, "not very strong." And then the being turned his eyes toward her own, his magnificent slitted eyes which held hers like a magnet holds metal, hers the strange darkling eyes of lore.

"Yes, black emerald eyes, as I was informed," spoke the being with a slyly pleased smile. "Woodland waif," he then questioned her, "would you be stronger?" Bablistia nodded emphatically. The being extended to her the bloody carcass of his latest kill as he commanded in a most hypnotizing voice, "Then drink."

Mesmerized by his very air of authority, Bablistia accepted the carcass from his hands and drank deeply of the blood from its torn throat. She gasped as the hotness of the blood filled her, seeming to send power surging through all her veins. The being smirked. "Blood is life, little waif. Never doubt it," he counseled firmly. Then he disappeared into the very air.

From that moment onward Bablistia took to the being's method of finding life, she killed creatures of the woods and drank of their blood freely. The Hierophants, hearing of this, were shocked. This was not the way of a sylph. But Bablistia argued that by such method was she gaining in strength and indeed she was. The Hierophants could not dispute this fact, and they remained in a quandary as to what to do. Finally the decision was taken from them.

During a playful show of prowess between two hunters of the village, one slipped and fell in such a manner as to slit open his throat upon his own blade. The healers of the community rushed to his aid, but his wound was too severe. He was tended as best as could be managed, and laid within his dwelling to await death in comfort and peace upon his own bed. But this hunter was very well known in the village for his physical strength, and Bablistia reasoned that such strength was being thoughtlessly wasted. She therefore went to his cottage and, leaning over him as he lay upon his deathbed, she removed the blood-stained bandages from his neck and drank deeply until he passed into unconsciousness and then over easily into oblivion.

Several of the community found her, the hunter's blood dripping from her mouth, and they called in shock for the Hierophants. These elders demanded of the mere slip of a girl what was her intent in doing such an abhorrent thing. But Bablistia simply explained that blood was life and for one to live, another must die, so if one was dying it was only right that death should also bring life.

The Hierophants stared at her in horror, and told her they would meet with her the following day, after they had discussed some things amongst themselves. That next day they demanded she abandon her quest for strength through blood. Bablistia demanded in turn what alternative they could offer her to insure her health and survival. When they admitted they could offer none, she of the black emerald eyes freely departed the community where she had been born.

She wandered for a time until she came upon a certain halfling town. There, to her amazement, she came across a shrine to the awe-inspiring being who had taught her the power of the blood. And in that shrine she knelt and dedicated herself forever to he who had granted her life in a way few understood, to the Master of the Blood, Amasalen.

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