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Aristiri slowly gathered her things for the upcoming
battle. Soon she would pass through the halls of the
dead and truly join the No Tears elders once and for
all. Ill not go down without a fightshe grinned
Custom Essays on The Coming Rite

fiercely to herself. Much has changed on the world of
Rallos Zec since she had left what seemed to be
centuries ago to join Deinonychus, Ravinwind and
Viertania and walk through the mists to the land of
Stormhammer, where the gods walk among the mortals.
There she had joined the ranks of an army known as the
Legendary Twelve, though there was much more then 1
of them. Over the course of months she traveled with
this roving band of mercenaries owing no allegiance to
anyone. Mighty dragons of the Temple of Veeshan,
Giant kings of Kael Drakkel, and Dains of the
Thurgadin fell beneath her weapons. Yet it was with
the cry of No Tears that she was gifted by Tunare with
her mighty sword Swiftwind alongside her brother and
sister in arms, Ravinwind and Viertania. Though the
veil between worlds separated her from her brethren
she was still No Tears in blood.
Not soon after she was called into battle in her home
plane the plane of growth, there she looked upon the
countenance of Mother Tunare for the first time. Yet
something was different, she did not feel awe or
splendor. It was as if this were but a image a hollow
shell of what she held most dear, a mockery. Ire rose
in her and when she heard the call to charge she was
one of the first to enter the fray like an angry wolf
she cut through the ranks of protectors and beasts
until nothing was left save that benevolently smiling
image of her goddess. The urge to shatter this image
to erase it from existence grew within her. She drew
her weapons with a feral snarl and as her blades
crossed in front of her a snap of lightening caught
her eye and she slowed, looking down at the jeweled
hilt of Swiftwind she was encompassed by peace, slowly
she turned and saw the havoc she had sown. Then she
looked upon the face of her Goddess for the very last
time in that brief moment understanding struck her,
with a cry to she buried her weapons deep into the
breast of her goddess and collapsed as she was
engulfed by the fiery vengeance of the avatars last
spell. Aristiri awoke later underneath the great tree
in the plane of growth, the army had dispersed and the
plane was deserted. It was beautiful as she walked
among the trees, so much like her old home of
Kelethin, although it would be a long time before she
could venture there again after word spread of the
slaughter on the Plane of Growth. Silently she sighed
to herself, she did not understand what had come over
her. Maybe she was expecting something when she
looked upon her goddess for the first time she did not
know. Unlike her brother Ravinwind, Tunare had never
spoken to her directly, but rather at least she
thought, indirectly, perhaps by finding a rare flower
or simply in the setting of the sun. What has been
done cannot be undone, she thought to herself. The
unicorns, wolves ,bears and Mother Tunares avatar
would return as well with the coming of a new moon.
She did not know how she knew this but, it was as if
it were ingrained within her very being. With one
final look over her goddesss foothold on the world of
Norrath she popped the cork on the gate potion and and
the swirling mists enveloped her.
Soon after a long battle with the snakes of
Ssraehaeva temple Aristiri wearily sought her rest.
As she entered the halls of dreams she was assaulted
by visions, a great desert, thousands of elves and
men fighting alongside each other against a scourge
greater then even Innoruk himself. One of these elves
reached out a hand to her and beckoned her to join
them. She recognized the emblem on his chest, a
ranger like herself. Vigor returned to her weary
limbs and she answered the call. The months were long
and hard, as she battled what seemed an implacable foe
never coming within sight yet attacking from afar.
The days turned to weeks and the weeks to months.
Aristiri was put in charge of the aeries, she took
assiduous care of her messengers, but sometimes they
were lost in the heat and sand. One sweltering day a
messenger flew in, alighting carefully upon its
mistresses shoulder.
The enemy has been found and destroyed within its
underground lair, its armies are routed and run. You
have done well. You along with several in your unit
are scheduled on the next gnomish ship home.
Home she thought to herself, it will be good to
return home. Visions of her home world assailed her
as she walked toward the gnomish construction. The
wind picked up and the sand gathered around her and
all senses and vision were lost. She closed her eyes
against the grit and wind and when she opened her eyes
again she found herself in the nexus. The lingerings
of words in her head.You are home once again my
child.... and she knew within her heart that she was
once again on her homeland.
It was a short time before she tracked down
Steelehammer a stout dwarven cleric, and asked him to
let an old traveler rejoin the family. And once again
Aristiri Windreaver, Warder of Tunare bore the No
Tears Initiates guild sign. To hear the familiar
Hellos, as the guild chattered was pure bliss to the
no longer lone ranger. It was as if she, like the
phoenix were reborn through the fires and tribulations
of her past. Over the next few weeks she met many of
the new faces, Brdaan a feisty Tier Dal enchanter who
insisted upon a duel the first time they met, well she
did have the courtesy to give him spirit of the wolf
after he had recovered his gear from his ghostly
corpse. Mity a gnomish warrioress with enough spunk
and tenacity to take on anything with shins. Seraith
an iksar beast master, who was staving back the sarnak
population of the Lake of Ill Omen quite well with her
faithful companion. Shorak an iksar wise man who
recently received his Spear of Fate from the great
spirits of the world. And, Anuxiree a strange Tier
Dal shadow knight, beholden to two masters Earenhylle
and a mysterious Naeldaen, she was quite conflicted
barely able to hold her excitement to be rid of her
enslavement yet, almost perfectly content to be a
slave. That was a puzzle for another time however.
Steelehammer was soon called to his own rite of
passing on to the elders of No Tears. The guild had
been abuzz with anticipation for the cleric and with
other news as well. Apparently, something had
occurred the night before with Anuxiree and Greon,
back to his old tricks she thought fiercely, visions
of Michaells sister Moreen and the dark spells he
wove over the human child and her passed quickly
through her mind. Steelehammer would not be the only
cleric to walk through the halls of the dead that
fateful night. A silent thought from Ravinwind asking
if she would assist in the teaching of a lesson was
replied with a laugh and a quick thought stating she
intended too.
Deep in the butcherblock mountains at the strange
stone chess board the rite was held. Fireworks were
lit and stories of old told by Earenhylle. And as
Steelehammer of No Tears Initiates fell, the whispered
now, followed by the fiery shock of spells and flurry
of blades and Greon fell quietly beside him. The look
of surprise stuck on his face like a strange ghoul.
Aristiri held an earing aloft from Greons dead corpse,
and gave it to Anuxiree saying that Perhaps he can
earn it back in some way and perhaps next time you
should let Greon drink some of the brandy instead of
taking it all for yourself.
Greon soon returned, Aristiri smiled sweetly at him
not saying a word. Finally as he gathered all of his
gear she spoke If you are looking for another fight
my friend Ill let you take the first three shots next
time. Greon looked up startled and muttered under
his breath in Tier Dal, a language Aristiri had not
stooped to learn. She turned from him and began to
walk away as she felt the spell begin to immobilize
her but she shook it off, Greon was already on the run
with Ravinwind Anuxiree and Earenhylle in hot pursuit.
Aristiri laughed and said Well where are the other
two shots? But, he had already ran far out of site
pursued by the trio of elves.
Legacy a Tierdal approached her, something was
strange about this dark elf she thought to herself his
scent is not right. He bore the Scimitar of the
Nature-walker the highest symbol of the druids. He
said You said first three shots right? Aristiri
chuckled and said go right ahead. He moved a short
distance from her and began chanting a spell she
finished memorizing a spell as the swarm of insects
engulfed her, swatting idly at the pests she taunted
Is that the best youve got? He activated the magics
of his scimitar and the curse of nature was upon her,
slowly sapping her life-force away. She furrowed her
brow in concentration Perhaps this was going to be
harder then it looked. she thought to herself.
Finally, he tried to bind her to the earth and let the
insects and curse envelop her. She had been prepared
for it and shrugged the bindings off. Thats three!
she shouted and cast a nullify magic spell upon the
druid and low and behold where the Tierdal once stood
there now stood a halfling looking rather surprised.
Ah, seems you are not the only one with tricks up
your sleeves. She bound his furry feet with a spell
of snaring and as the swarms and natures curse slowly
began to abate she delivered the final blow to the
halfling. Scratching aimlessly at her stings and
welts from the swarms she cast with the last of her
magic power a spell of regeneration and sat to tend to
her wounds. She sent a private thought to Legacy,
well fought, well fought indeed. We will have to
do it again sometime he sent in reply. As the sun
set over the hills in the butcherblock mountains and
No Tears dispersed Aristiri sought her rest in the
sanctity and quiet of the Plane of Knowledge.
Aristiri gathered the last of her things and began
her travel to the Southern Desert of Ro where her
story had begun so many moons ago. Its been a long
ways she thought to herself and Ive still got a ways
to go yet she smiled, as the spirit of the wolf
entered her and she ran on...
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