The Story of Dalmar: Uncommon Grounds

Dalmar left the small seaside town of Undhkiel early next morning as the last owl of the evening gave its last report to the moon which was dipping below the horizon. The morning sun was beginning to peer over the same horizon at the opposite end of the sky as the cool morning breeze whipped across the tops of the tall grasses of the impending hillside. Dalmar decided that traveling north and west would be his best bet of reaching the areas of Glorsheim as his unfortunate travels would seem to dictate, but he was uncertain of what laid ahead of him altogether. The world had proven to be a very strange place without rhyme or reason on a grand scale, but with each encounter Dalmar began to be able to piece everything together. He marveled at the vast differences in the people and communities that he had seen, and looked forward to future meetings with even stranger and diverse individuals. Still, Dalmar was pleased most by the times he spent away from it all, and the moments that allowed him to simply enjoy the world in its vacuum, its natural state.

Dalmar was mildly worried that the world set before him would be full of dangers unforeseen, and he soon realized that a pair of fancy daggers may not be enough for him to defend himself as he had lost his bow, his quiver of arrows, and his sword. Dalmar had surveyed a couple of possibilities for replacing his arms in Undhkiel, but had decided that the lack of craftsmanship may have actually proved to be harmful rather than helpful should he need to use them. While the daggers he carried had much magic, they would do very little against multiple foes, and would certainly not be prudent at range. Dalmar put extra value at securing a suitable sword or two at his priority, and decided to stay on the main pathway into the countryside in hopes to find a town or village that could provide such things. The small, decrepit roadway guided several travelers at first, but as he got deeper into the countryside and passed isolated farmsteads, the number of people he saw throughout the next couple of days subsided. Finally, Dalmar saw nobody on the road, and was only able to verify that people had traveled through these parts at one time. At first, this caused Dalmar to wonder if he would see anybody for a while, but the peaceful solitude of the open areas of Edra seemed to be enough for Dalmar at the moment.

On the third day around what Dalmar surmised to be noontime, he came upon a tall hill that, once rounded, revealed a pillar of smoke just behind a line of trees in the distance. This was the first signs of life along the roadway that he had seen in a couple of days, and his heart fluttered at the chance of conversation and a nearby people to visit. His legs regained some energy, and his pace quickened. Within a few moments, he had reached the thin treeline that marked a large square plot of land, and the smell of burning wood broke through to his senses. Dalmar paused for a moment as the odor of burning wood included no greenery in its smell, and he scanned the area. The plume of smoke seemed to come from what he made out to be the remains of a small strructure - perhaps a farm house of sorts - in the open space off the roadway to the northeast. Cautiously, Dalmar crept off the pathway that he had adhered to for the past three days and stood behind a couple of trees as he peered into the field expanding beyond. Indeed, as suspected, Dalmar spied the remains of a smoldering home, and several remnants of livestock wandering aimlessly about the perimeter of the foundations of the ruined cottage. Seeing no apparent signs of people, Dalmar decided it was safe to approach the smoky site in case there might be something of use to him or someone who might need his help.

The knee-high grass tugged at his leather pants leaving bits of chaff covering his legs as Dalmar made his way to a footpath of sorts made by what appeared to be horses leading back to the main roadway. As he gained entrance in the horse path, it widened and he began to see signs of several horses that had trampled the ground leading up to the burning wreckage of the farmhouse. Slowly, Dalmar walked up, to the ruins, dagger in hand and taking extra care to maintain an awareness of his surroundings. Dalmar noticed movement on the other side of the structure as the sounds of dogs barking rang out followed by growls and snarls. Suddenly, a couple of large canines of light gray color appeared from behind the burning building covered in the blood of one of the fallen livestock. Dalmar realized they were probably fighting over the remains of a pig or something of that nature, and felt a bit more at ease. But he knew they would probably notice him as wolves have very keen senses of smell and sight. Dalmar quickly lowered himself in the cover of the tall grass as a third wolf appeared from behind the house for hopes of taking the spoils of meat. The beasts lunged at one another as the third, larger wolf growled. Dalmar watched intently as the larger wolf stopped growling and began to sniff the air. Dalmar, too, paused, and watched the tops of the grass. The breeze was flowing through the grass in the direction of the wolves, and was even more confirmed by the shifting motion of the smoke escaping the ruined farmhouse. Dalmar cursed softly as he knew the wolves would smell his presence soon. One of the wolves let out a lower pitched howl, and was accompanied by several other howls in the area. The original two wolves maintained their desires for the same piece of meat, growling and barking at each other while they ran around through the grass after one another.

As it became clear that Dalmar didn't have much time, the larger wolf sniffed in Dalmar's direction as it gave another howl. The wolf began to look through the grass, raised its head in Dalmar's direction, and began running. It had seen Dalmar. As it did, one of the other wolves took notice and joined in the chase. Dalmar stood, having realized his position was forsaken, took out his other dagger - one for each beast, and began to trot away at a sidestep back in the direction of the roadway. As Dalmar turned and gave a full gallop, fear gripped his body. He began to hear the eight feet of the wolves traverse the grass near him. They were far faster and more agile than he, and it would be seconds before they were upon him. Dalmar had had enough. Dalmar stopped, and spun around as the larger wolf leaped into the air at him. Reacting, Dalmar caught the neck and breast of the ravenous beast with the brunt of his body as the forward thrust of one of the dagger pierced the wolf's ribcage. The wolf let out a yelp as the two fell to the ground. Dalmar stabbed furiously at the beast's hide, opening gaping, bloody wounds in its body. As the wolf gave his last yelp, Dalmar heard a second death cry preceded by a high-pitched, whistling noise that Dalmar could only identify as an arrow. Dalmar sprung to his knees, blood seeping from his shoulder and arms where the claws of the dead beast had gouged him. A shower of yelps rang out as the second wolf  tried to run but then laid down in the cover the grass in order to hide from its attacker. Dalmar looked towards the ruined farm as a second set of yelps rang out from the wolf dining on the remains of the livestock. As a man stood beside the burning plot, he fired second arrow finishing the wolf that dined on the dead animal. He then began to run towards his first arrow shot as Dalmar stood up. Instnctively, Dalmar ran to find the last wolf, too, but the wolf was already dead. It had died from a fatal arrow as it tried to save itself from its attackers.

Dalmar stood over the beast as he wiped the blood from his hands. Turning, he heard the footfalls of the archer that had aided him. The archer was tall and his hair was blond, draping down his back and meticulously trimmed at the his sides with deliberate curls. His dirty blond eyebrows gave him a stern look, as he approached. Dalmar was confused; he had never seen someone so fair as this warrior. The warrior stopped in front of Dalmar, gave a broad exhale, smiled, and put his hand on Dalmar's unafflicted shoulder. "Unda tui betta?" said the tall, graceful archer. Dalmar understood none of his words, and looked back at him with a puzzling face. Dalmar smiled. The tall man, gave a soft chuckle as he spoke once again. "Ahh, perhaps you know this one. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. Thank you for your help. I wasn't sure if I would have time for the second one" Dalmar responded.

"Then we are both thankful that I came upon this place when I did. My name is Sh'lzzt of the Kroo. Where are you from?" Sh'lzzt said. The brave archer seemed to worry himself with their surroundings further as he scanned the area. Dalmar noticed his long, slender ears that came to a point at their tops, and instantly knew from the stories of his childhood that Sh'lzzt was an elf. Dalmar's heart leaped. He knew Sh'lzzt would be friendly if not proud, and the tales he heard gave him the courage to be trusting.

"My name is Dalmar. I come from Morguon. I was travelling from Undhkiel when I saw the smoke, so I decided to check it out." Dalmar replied innocuously.

"Well, Dalmar of Morguon, let us make haste as the smoke will draw more attention and perhaps more wolves. There is safety in numbers in these parts. Come, if you wish." Sh'lzzt smiled wryly as he turned and ran back down to the farmhouse, bow in hand. Dalmar sort of shrugged to himself, and found the thought of company after two or three days of solitude inviting. Besides, how could he refuse potential opportunity to repay the person who possibly saved his life just now? Dalmar rushed down the hillside to the smoldering embers after Sh'lzzt. Sh'lzzt seemed especially interested in trying to determine what had happened here and who had done this. As Dalmar neared the burning wreckage, he noticed the burnt bodies of two people, indescribable by any other means other than their charred bones. Sh'lzzt knelt over the charred remains of the inhabitants, pulling singed bits of hair from their skulls and holding it to the light. Sh'lzzt's demeanor changed to anger and sadness.

"What is it, Sh'lzzt? Do you know them?" Dalmar asked.

"Yes, they were my friends." Sh'lzzt said abruptly. He seemed to make conscious effort to remove his transparency from his face, and soon his demeanor changed once again to the Sh'lzzt he had met upon the hill just moments before. Dalmar saw the anguish in his movement and in the haste with which Sh'lzzt operated though he did not understand why Sh'lzzt did many of the things he did. "Dalmar of Morguon, leave me a moment, won't you?" Sh'lzzt said as he bent back over the remains of his friends. Dalmar understood Sh'lzzt's grief. He remembered when his father and mother died. He understood the loss, and if they were truly friends, he knew he had to respect Sh'lzzt's need to say goodbye in only the way that Sh'lzzt knew how. Dalmar walked across the open field in the direction that Sh'lzzt had appeared. As he knelt down picking the tufts of grass seed and fidgeting, Dalmar began to sympathize for Sh'lzzt. He did not know why he felt this need, though, for they had only just met. Perhaps it was the depth by which he felt some strange bond with these dead people, or perhaps it was something innately elven. Either way, the least he could do for the man who helped in with the wolves was to give him the respect of allowing him to mourn.

Sh'lzzt jogged over to Dalmar after several moments, his bow draped around his body in fashion made for travel. "I must leave now and let others know of what has happened here. You are welcomed to join as, again, there is safety in numbers. Otherwise, if you keep traveling in the direction of the main roadway here, you will eventually come to Jiopha." Sh'lzzt paused waiting for Dalmar to decide.

"Sh'lzzt, where is the best place to get a sword and bow? Is it Jiopha, or is there a better place?" Dalmar replied.

"You will have a hard time finding either of any value in either directions, but for entirely different reasons, I'm afraid, Dalmar." Sh'lzzt said.

"Well, then, Sh'lzzt, if you don't mind, it appears as if traveling with you is both smart and far more entertaining than the alternative. I can visit Jiopha another time." Dalmar said as he gestured to Sh'lzzt to lead the way. Sh'lzzt nodded in agreement as he patted Dalmar on his shoulder once again, and dashed toward the tree line in the northeastern distance. Dalmar jogged after Sh'lzzt, careful not lose sight of him. But Dalmar realized that Sh'lzzt was far more enduring of this kind of travel than Dalmar. Dalmar wasn't used to running everywhere nor was he used to the pace at which Sh'lzzt ran. His warrior friend seemed to be unencumbered by his graceful gait across the open plains of Edra, but Dalmar was soon relieved as the two entered the forest at the other end of the plains. Sh'lzzt, noticing his friend's laboring breaths, paused in the cover of the forest. Dalmar plopped down on the soft earth of the leaf-covered embankment, and breathed heavily. Sh'lzzt chortled as he sat down in the cool woodland scenery, looked briefly at Dalmar's progress.

"I've forgotten men aren't used to this style of travel. It will be a bit slower from here on as we should be more cautious, Dalmar" Sh'lzzt said. "But be advised, there are things far more dangerous than wolves in these forests. I can guide you, but you must follow me as exactly as possible. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand." Dalmar responded. "But something is troubling me, Sh'lzzt. What were you doing down there that you should come upon me and the burning cottage?"

"My people and I have traded information and goods for years with the people that lived there. When I saw the smoke, it was only natural I should investigate." Sh'lzzt said. For the moment, Sh'lzzt seemed annoyed at Dalmar's questions, and Dalmar decided not to press anymore question related to the ruined farm. "When we continue, " Sh'lzzt continued, "we must travel as quietly as possible. Elves travel far more quietly than men and most other beings. We also travel quicker, and know the forests far better than any man or woman could ever hope to know."

"When I served with the forces of Irongard, I performed the duties of a scout in forested areas...." Dalmar said confidently. He was sure this would have a bit more impression of Sh'lzzt, and would ease his tension in thinking so little of his abilities.

"I have little doubt your skills, in that case, will make it easier for you" Sh'lzzt said as he grinned slightly at Dalmar. Dalmar smiled at first, but then realized that his confidence in himself gave Sh'lzzt little of his own. "Now, let us make haste. It will be much darker soon, and you will find it even more difficult to see. We must find a suitable place for some semblance of refuge for the night, and I know just the place." Sh'lzzt stood up and checked his person quickly before scanning the area. Dalmar stood to meet the pace at which he believed they were to pass through the forest. With a nod of agreement, each entered the forest at the pace of an encumbered man walking. Sh'lzzt, graceful in his movements and deliberate in his actions, passed seamlessly among vine and branch. Dalmar, attempting to mimic Sh'lzzt's movements, only made his presence more apparent. This annoyed each of them, but for different reasons. Dalmar's frustrations that he couldn't reproduce the same results as Sh'lzzt from what he believed to be similar actions caused him to take upon a short-tempered approach to travel. As a result, he became fatigued quicker. Three times they stopped for a rest as the sun disappeared and nightfall took hold of the forest. Dalmar's vision was limited to a few steps in front of his face without respect to the few slivers of moonlight that eventually broke through the canopies of the trees overhead. This slowed their movement even more, and Dalmar could sense Sh'lzzt's frustration. Dalmar began to feel embarrassed, and Sh'lzzt sensed this. "Just a short distance further, Dalmar" Sh'lzzt whispered. "Then we can rest easy" said Sh'lzzt.

Dalmar wasn't sure if Sh'lzzt was merely reacting to Dalmar's frustration or if he genuinely empathized with Dalmar, but within another hour, each of them came into a glade in the forest where the moon shone white light upon a bed of moss. In the center of the glade was a dusty, round spot that had been molded by many years of campfire and whatnot. The tall trees loomed over the clearing casting weird shadows upon everything as Dalmar began to make a fire with small limbs and branches he found around the immediate area. Soon, a suitable fire was blazing and both Dalmar and Sh'lzzt were warm and comfortable. Dalmar took the two remaining bananas out of his pocket that he had stored from the time he spent on the island, and tossed one to Sh'lzzt who looked at the banana with disgust. "We elves do not eat the food made by men, thank you" Sh'lzzt said as he frowned, attempting to hand it back to Dalmar.

"I didn't make that fruit, Sh'lzzt. It grows on an island in the sea." Dalmar chuckled.

"You say it's a fruit? Like an apple?" Sh'lzzt queried.

"Well, I have to assume because it is sweet and it grow on trees." Dalmar said. Sh'lzzt produced a fine dagger from his belt sheath, and cut off a small piece from the top about the size of a silver coin. Sh'lzzt then put the whole piece into his mouth and grimaced. Laughing, Dalmar said "Sh'lzzt, I'm sorry. I should have told you. You'll want to remove the outer yellow portion and eat just the softer, pale part on the inside." Sh'lzzt cut off another piece of the banana, and this time removed the peel. The second piece of the banana seemed more enjoyable to Sh'lzzt as he did not seem disagreeable. Sh'lzzt then ate the whole thing, and smiled.

"Much better without the peel. I will have to remember those should I come across them again." Sh'lzzt stoked the fire a bit as embers rose into the air like angelic fireflies trying to reach the moon. Dalmar felt a bit absolved of his earlier efforts to traverse the forest as Sh'lzzt. It became apparent that they both could learn from each other, and he invited the opportunity to do so. Dalmar leaned back against a wide tree trunk with his arms behind his head looking at the runes carved deeply within the trunks of the other trees. He had not noticed the writings before, and he surely did not understand them to any degree.

"What are those symbols carved into the trees around this place, Sh'lzzt?" Dalmar asked.

"Those are the words of my ancestors. They will help to protect us while we are here." Sh'lzzt answered.

"You mean they're magic?" Dalmar sat up as he asked this.

"Some of them are magic, others are not. It is not for either of us to know which serve either of those purposes." Sh'lzzt continued.

"Are they elven runes? What exactly are we protected from, Sh'lzzt?" Dalmar seemed overly curious to Sh'lzzt. Sh'lzzt stiffened his upper lip, and he seemed unwilling to extrapolate. Dalmar paused at the changing of his guide's face. "I'm sorry, Sh'lzzt. If you don't want to answer these questions, that's fine. I was merely curious." Dalmar responded.

"No, it's fine, Dalmar. But it would be easier to tell you that it will not protect us from elves, men, and fey." Sh'lzzt seemed to think about his words as he spoke. Dalmar realized that directing conversation away from elves may be a more suitable course of action.

"Fey? What are fey ?" Dalmar asked. Sh'lzzt raised an eyebrow at Dalmar.

"You do not know of fey?" Sh'lzzt asked is disbelief. Realizing that men were not often in contact with fey, Sh'lzzt begn another approach with Dalmar. "Fey are the beings of the forests and the land. Some have abilities and skills that are inherent of the things that they represent, and many of them are wise and powerful. But they generally tend to be peaceful, that is why the magic does not protect this area from them. Besides, even elven magic may not be able to resist some of the more powerful fey." Sh'lzzt seemed more willing to talk about the fey than the elves. The fey somewhat confused Dalmar as he was unable to picture such beings in his mind. He had heard that the forests were alive with spirits of wood, water, earth, and fire. He had never given much thought to the ideas, however, outside of mere folktale. Dalmar yawned as the day's travel through the forest and his dealings with the wolves began to wear on his body. He took a drink from his water bag that hung about his body, and stared into the dancing flames of the fire. Sh'lzzt sat still staring into the fire as well, seemingly unwilling to expound upon the fey, elves, and even mankind. Dalmar decided to let it go for the night. He was, once again, tired. The soft sounds of the fire began to mingle with his fading consciousness, and soon Dalmar fell asleep.