[Flashback]The Amber Tree [Closed]

[Xelhes]

Look at my memory; at what remains. When spring arrived in Denval, the change was apparent. Warmth returned to the region, plants regrew their leaves, gentle breezes came around, and the sun’s rays illuminated the land for hours longer than before. People took advantage of the time, preparing themselves for summer, planting crops as soon as possible, training in combat, and simply walking around the settlement. The change that occurred in Denval simply from a change of season was drastic, and one Isolde took part in as well. In the winter she did what was expected of her, acting as a healer when needed, looking after the children in the village, and sometimes acting to defend Denval should some manner of creature get too near. Such threats were rare however, and Isolde had only been asked to lend her aid once, when two animals approached the settlement, the watch wanting to make sure Denval was as secure as possible. It had taken time, but practice had made her close to a master of archery when using the longbow, very few coming close to the accuracy she possessed. Ever since she was young, Isolde knew she would have to learn how to wield some form of weapon. Denval was her home, so defending it was something she felt was a duty, despite the gender she possessed. Despite the skill she possessed, some were not fond of the idea of a female aiding the watch; of a female not wishing to marry. No, Isolde had no desire to marry another, for her love lied with another. Leth. He was the thing she loved, for no matter where she went, she always felt his presence, whether the moon was present or not. Such devotion had earned her a title amongst those in Denval, as well as for her talent in healing with herbs, for taking care of the children, and speaking to those who went to the chapel for prayer. Priestess of Leth; a title Isolde wore proudly. As she walked through the village, the breeze gently lifting long ebony hair, she greeted everyone she saw. Only travelers did not know of her, as most of those who lived in Denval had met Isolde at least once. Doing what she could, she went out of her way to try and meet those those who shared her home, getting to know them better and letting people know they could depend on her. In her hands was a woven basket, inside it an assortment of greens and shapes. Herbs, as many as she could find that would prove to be useful, or her most recent haul. Few people traveled outside the boundaries of the settlement, for the dangers were all too real. However someone had to leave in order to gather the herbs required to help aid the sick. Reaching the building where she acted a healer, Isolde went to the back and placed the basket down on a table, noticing how quiet it was. There were people in the building being treated, people who had done idiotic things, having not been able to do much during the winter. Every year it happened, spring would arrive, and overactive individuals would go around hurting themselves doing dumb activities. Yet so far there had been much less than the usual amount. For now, only two patients resided in the building, resting while they recovered from eating some nonedible berries, which they had consumed on a dare. Another healer was dealing with now, having excused Isolde after she observed the two. Picking up the longbow and quiver she had left behind before gathering the herbs, Isolde prepared to leave, fitting the quiver onto her back while also putting her shoulder under the bow so that it hung just above the ground. ”Take care Kalmar. I shall be back before dark, I am just going to say hello to the children and then visit the chapel. When I return I will make sure to take your place and let you go home, you have worked more than enough. Please, feel free to take tomorrow off. I will take your place instead, and deliver the pay for that day to you.” Before the man could say anything in response, Isolde had already closed the door, leaving the man little option.

[Xelhes]

The man deserved a break, and needed one as well. Day and night he worked, not just to help others, but to feed his family. Kalmar was struggling to keep them all well fed, his wife having died of a disease in her lungs, leaving the man to look after three children. Taking a shift and paying him for it was the least Isolde could do, as the male healer had rejected her gift of money in order to help support his family. Pride seemed to get in the way, even though the times were desperate for him. As she walked towards the side section of Denval, Isolde greeted all those she came across happily, stopping for conversation for some of them, answering questions, and sometimes just a simple greeting. ””Nice weather today huh, Isolde?””, “”Are you going to see the children? My son is with them in the usual spot. He always loves your stories.”” , “”Will you be at the chapel later, Priestess? “” Yes, it was almost an assault of compliments and praise, all of which Isolde appreciated but disliked. The way people talked of her, it made her feel like they thought she was capable of anything, and that they were also treating her with too much respect. All she did was work her hardest as a healer, and was a faithful of Leth, yet these people seemed to think she was flawless. If only she was, then maybe people would be happier, but she was only one person, and a mortal one at that. Eventually she managed to reach the side section of Denval, a place where the children that were between the ages of six to twelve went to play and talk, the older ones helping their parents work. Coming here, seeing the children, talking to them, it made her feel happiness that could not be expressed. These young ones were the hope of Denval, the thing that would sustain the village in years to come, and to become a part of it as well. To be able to talk with them was a wonderful thing, and the fact that many of them enjoyed her company simply made her feel honoured. More so than all the praise others gave her, more so than being appointed the title of Priestess by the people. Since the very start Isolde had believed her young age would prove to make others think less of her, yet it seemed to be the opposite. Being the age of twenty-six, people found her skills at such an age to indicate just how adept she would become as time went by, possibly one of the most talent healers in Denval. “”Isolde! Everyone, look!”” Had the children been waiting for her? True, she had promised to visit them today, but she did not expect even one of them to actually look for when she would arrive. In fact, she had partially hoped they would not regard her in such a manner. Originally they had referred to her the way their parents did, with high respect and regard, though Isolde quickly did what she could to remove such thoughts. As well, it seemed the parents were telling their children exaggerated stories, making her seem more powerful than she was. One such tale was that she struck down a creature with a single arrow; the creature so far away it was barely even visible. The foolishness of such tales was beyond Isolde’s comprehension. People needed to understand she was just mortal, that she would eventually become old, and then die. A part of her even looked towards that moment, when she would leave the world, and go to see Leth. Yes, that was a day she could look forward to. ”Hello children, it’s nice to see you all so energetic. What game are you playing today?” There was hardly a second of silence before the group of roughly ten or fifteen children answered, knowing she would ask. It was a question she asked every time she visited them. ””We were playing Blessed! You know, where you are to do some sort of activity, like push ups, running, or drawing, and whoever does worse has to do something we say, and if they are ok then they are blessed!”” Many of the children began talking excitedly amongst themselves, yet there were two that did not look as happy, instead having their gaze focused on the ground. This game again? Isolde had tried to get it out of their system, that making someone comply with what another says, and being fine while doing it did not mean you were blessed by the gods. The game itself was almost an insult in Isolde’s eyes, like a mocking of the gods. She would need to find out who put such ideas in their heads, and tell that person just how dire their actions could be. What if one of the children got hurt? What If one died? The amount of adults that were idiots about such things was upsetting, and almost amusing to Isolde. Sighing, Isolde straightened out her posture completely, casting a shadow over the children. Her expression not one of anger, but also not one of happiness, instead simply one of hardness, letting the children know they had misbehaved. ”I thought I had told you all not to take part in such games. What if one of you gets hurt doing something ridiculous? What if you damage something in Denval, or make it so the settlement is unsafe? Is that really a burden any of you wish to bear?” Unlike her expression, her words were not harsh sounding, instead her voice maintaining the softness it always had. Very rarely had Isolde raised her voice, and never did so with the children. Getting angry with them would not make things better. The children looked away from her, all of them appearing guilty, knowing they had done something wrong. After a few moments of awkward silence, one of the children spoke, his voice timid and broken. ””W-we were just bored. Nothing bad was gonna happen…this was the last round anyw-!”” Before the sentence could even be finish one of the two who had looked so upset shoved the boy, a young girl with a very stern look. ””You is just a liar! You said I had to go to the monster tree by myself!” With another shove, she stormed off to the outer edge of the group, an absolutely outraged look on her face. A monster tree? What was going through the minds of these children? ”What is this monster tree, and who told you about such a thing?” Yes, someone needed to be taught a lesson on putting such ideas into the children’s heads. This was starting to get out of hand. ””It is that large tree you can see from the gate, the one that makes all the other trees look like ants, and its leaves go blood red for no reason sometimes all year! The blacksmith said it was because a monster was killed there and the tree drank its blood. Now the tree itself is a monster and becomes red when it kills people or animals and drinks their blood!” All of the children shuddered, some even looking sick, or scared. Isolde could not help but shake her head. If it was in her power she would have the blacksmith beaten and then forced to tend to the stables for the rest of the season. Letting such foolish stories be made without punishment was insane. Now that the man had said such things the children were scared of a tree. Of all the possible things, he had made them fear a tree. Yes, she would talk to him later, and it would not be a pleasant conversation at all; insufferable man. ”Children, I am going to tell you now that the story he told you is not true. I am going to tell you how the tree actually came to be. The blacksmith simply told you that because he thought it would be amusing to upset you all. So please, make yourselves comfortable. I will try to keep it short, but still tell everything.” The children nodded and sat down on the ground, all of them looking at Isolde, as if she had grown a second head. Now for the difficult part; coming up with a story. Unlike the blacksmith, Isolde had never been good at making up stories, though telling them was fine. Creativity was not her biggest strength.

[Xelhes]

”During the settlement’s earliest years, when it had not even been completely built, creatures from the forests came. They would attack in an attempt to eat the people who resided here, thinking it was easier to simply consume humans than other wildlife. As time went on, the villagers became more adept at fighting, and the assaults became less pronounced. However, one man knew the threat was always there, despite the others lowering their guard. He suspected that the animals in the wilds had more intelligence than the others gave credit, that they did not stop attack because they feared for their lives, but to make the people believe they were safe. As time went on, the guard had nothing to fight, and believed the danger had passed. As the man thought, the art of using a sword weakened, and even those who had been perfectly adept at it were now clumsy. Eventually, the day the old man had once feared came about. Once more, animals assaulted the developing Denval, dealing far more damage than any other attack yet, as the watch and guard were now but mere novices using the sword. Many were dragged into the darkness of night, though the elderly man survived, having still trained himself with his sword when others gave up. Though casualties were high, eventually the creatures retreated, vanishing for a time, having obtained enough food to sustain them for a time. Denval was in shambles, people fearing for their lives, angry and broken from what had occurred. There would not be enough time to learn to defend themselves from more assaults; they would all be devoured. Praying, all of them, they desired a way to protect their home and themselves, to ward off the monsters that lied outside. It was the elderly man that received the prayer, words from the divine reaching his ears. ‘Beyond the gates and amongst the trees is where salvation may be found, though not by our will shall it arise.’ Arming himself, the man left without a word to others, not wishing to involve them. To become a silent hero, without others ever knowing of the sacrifice he may perform, to keep the place he loved secure, if only for a time. Only a note to the daughter he had was left beyond, telling her he was leaving to remove the monsters, to keep her safe. The journey was not a difficult one, though the terrain was not pleasant. Nothing attacked; the world was still as he walked, as if intervention was something that would not be permitted. Two days after traveling, he felt it in a place he stayed to rest; a place surrounded by trees, and yet had a completely bare spot big enough for a large house. This was where salvation could be found, and so he prayed to the gods to aid him, to bring about this salvation. ‘Our power is not what shall protect your world, but yours instead. Become the barrier for what you love, though at the cost of what you are.’ Images flew through the elderly man’s mind as he understood what was asked, and he accepted. He was old, and time would only make his body weak from illness. More than that, he had someone he loved back in that place, who needed his shield. The answer was easy. From where he stood the man’s body began to warp, clothing ripping and flesh hardening as it rose towards the heavens, then widened to create a stable base. From his hands which stretched upwards did branches form, and leaves began the sprout instantly. He had gone from man to tree with the power of the gods, though different than any other in the world. Power was imbued into his being, one that allowed him to act as a shield for Denval. With the one thing that filled his heart being Denval, the safety he desired it to possess, the power given to this form allowed him to repel creatures that would threaten its existence. When danger appeared the golden leaves the tree possessed would turn red with the wrath of the man, anger that came about at the thought of Denval suffering, and a shield would repel the creatures of the night from the settlement. For years no one knew why the monsters had vanished, yet they knew they still existed. The settlement grew to what it is today, and men were retrained to guard it should an attack ever occur. No one knew of the man’s silent gift to the people, no one but the daughter he left. In time, she began to understand what had occurred, after looking at the tree every day, noting how its appearance was at the time of peace. Over the years she felt her father’s presence from it, and began to realise he had done what he set out to do, that unlike what others said he had not simply run off to die. She told his stories to the children she bore, and they to theirs, until story became lost to only a small few. Now, the tale has become nothing but a fable forgotten by most, but one I heard from my mother before she passed on.”

[Xelhes]

After a sigh, Isolde smiled at the children around her, noticing the look of awe on their faces. They had believed what she said, and though she knew it was bad to lie to them, this story was one she thought better for them to know than that of a tree that drank blood. ”So you see children, the tree is not a monster. Instead, it is what one might call a sacred tree, one that came about by the sacrifice of a man who desired nothing more than to protect what he loved most. Its powers have weakened, for all things age, yet when its leaves turn red it is not from blood, but from the tree doing all that it can to hold back what threatens our home. The tree itself is called The Amber Tree, for the color of the leaves and bark it possesses when not red. It is not something to fear but rather something to be inspired by; the proof of how one man’s determination is what allowed our Denval to exist, and for us to be here.” How much of that any of them caught was beyond Isolde’s comprehension, for many of them were yelling happily to each other. ””It’s a sacred tree! It’s not scary at all!”” ””Come on! Let’s go tell the others that thought it was a monster!”” Without a moment to spare, many of the children ran off, the older ones thanking Isolde for telling them the truth and being better than the ‘mean dirty blacksmith.’ Laughing quietly to herself, Isolde stood up, making sure to do so without knocking her bow against something. Though the children had believed her tale, thinking on it now she knew that anyone older than them would probably believe it to be false. A tale that was too kind, where good proved more powerful than the monsters, where faith and willpower had saved lives. A tale that was meant for children to hear, for only they would believe the validity of it. Walking on, Isolde made it to the gate, looking out towards the large golden tree. It truly was a beautiful sight to behold, a tree that seemed almost as if it could have only existed through the power of the divine. Though her tale was farfetched, Isolde wanted to believe it now, to make it seem as if the tree was not just some random incident of nature. ”A sacred tree, brought to us by the dying wish of an old man and the grace of the gods. A story many can look at for hope.” Quietly she closed her eyes and prayed on the tree, that it would maintain its beauty and life, so long as it desired them both. Such a tree, though still a tree, was one of immeasurable beauty that put even some of the finest art to shame. Another breeze came by, sweeping strands of ebony hair into the air, with it almost a whisper in the wind; like a silent thank you from one that could not speak. Smiling to herself, the story, and the tree, Isolde turned away from the wilds and the Amber Tree, heading towards the Chapel to see how things were there, and if there were any who needed guidance. It would only be at night that she prayed to Leth fully, when he was most prominent in the sky, though even during the day she still thought of the god, always sensing his presence around her; an invisible companion for her lonely journey. The Amber Tree, real or not had sparked a new kind of faith inside Isolde, one she had not felt before but now burned softly inside her soul. Her faith in Leth had not dwindled, nor her faith in the others of Denval, but a new faith had emerged to help her along with the others. A faith in herself, and the world she wished to protect; that even such a small light as her illuminated a part of a darkening world. Look at our memory; at what may still be.

[Paragon]

Reward Time! Xelhes: The Story of the Amber Tree Lore of the Blessed Game Lore of Storytelling Wonderful thread, and a great insight to this past life. There's a lot of imagination here, with the children's voices and games, and there's a poetic element to your opening and closing lines. With the Lore of Storytelling, Xelhes has a strong base to work from for any Storytelling you may want to do in the present. If so, may I suggest Syllke, who is also a storyteller? Bravo, my friend. Don't hesitate to send me a PM with any questions or concerns!

[Tabarnac]

Xelhes, I gave this to Paragon to grade so he has familiarity with past life threads, but I also read it and enjoyed it. When things with the citywide plot calm down, we would be willing to work with you in pulling some of this stuff into Xelhes' current incarnation. You might also consider writing up The Amber Tree and The Blessed Game in the World Development forum. These sorts of details are what make Mizahar a richer realm, and more people should be reading your excellent work. Thanks for adding to the sandbox!