BLYTHE FLAMEHAIR, RANGER OF MIELIKKI

Blythe was born in Tethir Forest some 100 years ago. She is a wild elf who walks with the same tribe as that of Foxfire. Seeking further adventure she travelled to Waterdeep where she met several adventurers, and with them she explored the realms far and wide. She led several expeditions to as yet unknown regions. (The picture is an orginal work of art by Phil Smith - known to many as Fandrall or Lathander). A family tragedy led to her recieving a moonblade from her fathers brother, who met with death from human raiders of the forest. Presented to her by the leader of the tribe Foxfire, she drew the sword knowing she was risking death but was found worthy by the sword. She knew not much of the magic of the sword, as the previous owner had been taken before his time and had not yet had the chance to teach her the magic of the blade. She swore that is she found out what the magic was on her blade she would put her own magic on it to stop that happening to the next owner of the blade. As a result she did not name a blade-heir. However, there came to pass an event that is best told in the words of the bard Betandor Battlebard of the Starry Quill.

Farewell to the Flame-haired Lady

The swarm of orcs swept over them, poor villagers they were.
With none there to ward them, none save elf folk and her.
She led a counter to their thrust, and lost her shieldmate's side.
She cursed and swore when orcs closed in, and prepared to die.

Drawing her well worn blade, she flipped her hair back quick.
Dancing, darting, bleeding, into orc circle thick.
They clawed her weapon from her grip, and dragged her to the ground.
She fought with nails and teeth then, her growl the only sound.

Into the wood they dragged her, captured elven maid.
Her folk not known her missing, til wounded did they aid.
Then missing her they called to those she had considered friends
To search and find her if they could, before the day would end.

The lucky of Tymora, one Caius with his ale.
A priest with soul inspired wrath, led on the orcish trail.
Also trailing silent, with a ranger's stealth
Came Lukan Berra, cartographer, to save the maiden elf.

So too Aurilious, warrior, with speed of elven sword
And gnomish priest Dolgo, with small faithful word.
Then came I, Betandor, her brother in his heart.
All swore then to find her, or tear the Realm apart.

We followed trail to orcish camp, and breached the palisade.
Found locked grating in the ground, with sounds of crying slaves.
Howling in agony, we heard familiar screams.
Blythe, the ranger maiden was trapped down there it seemed.

We yelled that we would get her out, she shouted she was dying.
Battering himself on the gate, Caius prayed while crying.
Commotion drew guards to the site, and unexpected aid.
A human with a key appeared, home with the orcs he made.

Turning key inside the lock, we charged into the dark
Seeing cruel orc blade strike up a score of fiery sparks.
Saw too the bloody battered girl, drawing her last breath.
Dispatched the orc in fury, while trying to stave off death.

Caius and the gnomish one, with ranger at their side.
Called to their deities, pleading, while Blythe met our eyes.
She stared hard at all of us, her friends, those she loved
She whispered a small thanks and prayer, then went to Realms above.

To be with goddess Milekki, and serve her in that place.
All stood stunned in silence, mourning tears running down their face.
We prayed to all our deities, while homeward spirit flew.
Prayed for her safety and her joy, while feeling down and blue.

She'd not want us saddened, those she loved the best,
She'd want that we honor her, and give her peaceful rest.
So now, I bid you, Sister, who earned her life through death
A joyous walk through forests, where views would steal the breath.

Watch over us, Dear Sister, and guide us on the trail
That we shared both in this life, and in eternal vale.
Make a home of life there, with sunshine above
And know that we here send our prayers, and eternal love.

But it seems that before her death, Blythe had placed her own rune on her moonblade. She called it a destiny rune. For a time her friends where haunted by her spirit. Begging them to aid her in finding the moonblade, for it seemed the blade had been lost. Last heard of in the orc camp, being drawn by stupid orcs several times before they realised that each would go up in flames. So the great quest began to find the Moonblade.

Again the Story is best told in the words of Betandor Battlebard, bard of the Starry Quill.

The Return of the Flame-haired Lady

With saddened hearts and wounded souls, companions of the girl
Took themselves through town and dale, cross the wide, wide world.
Her essense would appear to them, and bid them find moonblade.
So they met, and searched, and hoped, for vanished elven maid.

Brave Caius, keeper of the Luck, now sobered by her need.
Lukan Barra, cartograph, mapped Realms and other deeds.
Elkor of the Tangled Trees, also ranger trained.
Kiria, druid of Myrloch Vale, with nature's gifts ingrained.

Telisyn, warrior of the elves, a purpose in his eye.
And one to tell the merry tale, with Battlebard's own cry.
We met, and counseled on the place where the blade might be
Then set off, to Snowflake peaks, near her own Tall Trees.

What we found, in orcish village, was not the blade we claimed
Instead, we found the merchant Jake, with orc son, Mun by name.
He told us how he'd sent the blade to dwarven Ironbeard.
We set off then for Zazzesspur, the blade's song in our ears.

Finding there the merchant, he spoke of dwarven crafts
Then changed his pitch to inform that we'd missed the blade by half.
Half a week or more he'd given the blade to Zhentish trade
To take north to nobles, who'd pay for things elven made.

With muttered curses in our throats, we pressed for names at least.
Til Ironbeard with sly wink told that buyer was a priest.
A priest of Cyric, with a trace of madness in his eyes.
With den in the sewers of the keep, he wondered why.

But priest had not answered, only paid for merchandise.
With shouted thanks, we left the dwarf, stammering his surprise.
Northward to the Zhentish Keep, we fairly flew through night.
Reaching gates as false dawn gave a sickly light.

Searching through the city streets, we found a sewer grate.
Foul reek of muck and worse seeped out, though we'd not hesitate.
With weapons drawn and blessings of our gods upon our souls
Each of us searched the darkness with barely held control.

Anger flared in each of us, as finally cleric was spied.
He sneered and cursed, and told us what we knew to be foul lies.
Finally, with not a word, we glanced among ourselves.
With silent nods, we advanced, to send cleric to Nine Hells.

Strength of arms was not enough, and magic spells flew and struck.
Caius, gasping passed to death, to meet the Lady Luck.
Still we fought on, sensing that all was not lost.
Each doing best to save the rest, no matter what the cost.

Long the battle dragged on, friends living by a thread
When with the flipping of a coin, Caius returned from the dead.
Tymora's blessing on him, he roared a battle prayer
And blasted Cyrite furiously, while our cheers filled the air.

Finally, the Cyrite dead, we reclaimed the sword.
Spirit-elf appeared again, and bade us find her wood.
So back to the south we trekked, to forest of Tall Trees.
Kiria left us then, with smile, "You no longer need me."

When we reached the Tall Trees, Miliekki's voice spoke soft
Praising efforts given, and giving final cost
Of restoring Blythe to this, the Realm of mortal men
She'd not remember any there, she'd have to learn again.

Stunned, with tears upon our cheeks, we bade the goddess' aid
To return Blythe to our lives, the flame-haired elven maid.
She appeared in flash of light, confusion on her face.
"Who are you, and why would you be standing in this place?"

We all rejoiced to see her, though parts of us wept.
Introducing each of us, love from our hearts' depths
Bleeding out to cradle her, and hold her to this place
We promised to explain in time, relief on every face.

To celebrate, Caius and some of the rest went into the bars.
I myself camped under trees, and nature's brightest stars.
Now I wait for quiet times, with Sister, goddess blest.
I'll explain to her in time, at her own request.

Til then, speak not of this to her, she will not understand.
She is innocent of it all, new to the Realm of man.
In time she may know of this quest, and times of her past
Like history in times of old, a dreamer's vision last.

This is my prayer for her life, when brother's love won't do.
Miliekki watch over her, and keep her heart true.
To those principles she holds dear, both now and before
Until the day she travels in your eternal wood once more.

Since returning to the mortal realm, she spends much of her time with her tribe in the forest, leaving for the rare and occasional adventure, with companions of old and friends newly made.