The Humble Old Elf
From across the sea came this elf. Six hundred and fifty one when he started his life as a cleric. Through time he has garnered the respect of many and become the high elder of the guild under his guild mistress Eden. As a cleric he serves the faithfull without rest. The only truth behind him is he serves the temple and gahlen with a genuine interest for the greater good of all its inhabitants, " My life is no longer my own. I belong to waylumi now and I am her tool to use as she sees fit." Roviden beleives in his heart of hearts that to serve the light you must be willing to give everything of yourself. You must cast down personal gain, you must forsake wealth for the sake of wealth. And mostly you must forsake yourself. If you cannot put your greed, your ego, or your material needs aside, then you are far from a true walk in the light. Roviden knows if he can do it, anyone can.
The passing from this world.
And so as time passed on, the old elf grew more and more into age. As he became decrepit, he could no longer rely on remedies or the power of the light to sustain his failing health.Truly the time he had longed for, yearned for, and hoped for was soon to come. As the river sought the sea, and the sapling sought the tree he awaited his time of peace.The last of his days he spent in gentle reflection. Often looking back on his time as a servant of his goddess. He would regal fondly of his adventures, of his exploits. And he would recount with gentle pain the choices he made in his life and the friends he left along the road who had passed before.But the one thing he was never shy of, was speaking of his fair ladies. One close at hand, a promise to which he made. One far away to him a promise was endowed.Within the small village to which he had retired the folk would oft come to hear his stories. Some could scarce believe of the wonders he fortold, of the long journy soon to end. Often he would gaze into the far horizon, gazing into the distance towards Gahlen. With what strength he could muster, he helped and mentored the young ones of the village. Teaching them from his knowledge and wisdom the ways of the light. His hands still held the power to heal and he used to the fullest effect he could. And then the day at last came. Some years down the road of roads that is life. And now he lays upon his deathbed, facing the window as the sun slowly climbed upon the horizon. Among new friends, and some old there he began the last of his epic journies. With his last words he did empart, "From my begining, to my humble end I now remember it well. All the pain and sorrow I have suffered, all the joys I have ever known. All have lead me now to this moment. I can see her now. I can see her light full as the brightness of day. Lay me in the fields where they now lie row upon row. Lay me near the elder tree that I may partake of its fruit and goodness if ever my soul reach back to this world. Though I think it shall not. So wayward was the road at times. So trying and so terrible it could be. But all of that is gone now. I see only the grace of the promise. I see only the power of that light beyond the sea of stars. Goodbye and farewell....." And so the journy begins. The last of his journies upon the golden road. But fear not for he has walked this road once before, and surely he knows the way. No tired mortal feet shall carry him on. No bent rigid back shall bear his burdens any longer. Strong as the stone, and swift as the fox as in his youth shall his spirit run, run to freedom eternal. But he will watch, and join the whisperers upon the wind. If you listen he will speak to you. If your soul is still, even in turmoil he will send his voice through the love of the goddess. He will never forget the turmoil of those who would walk the lighted path. Remember his words, and he will remain in the world forever.