Schooling age

Dury was wildly in love with music and dance. Announcing that she wanted to be a bard and go to ?? to learn the trade. Suddenly Lyleth knew it was time for Dury to go to the school in Mispoint. With trepidation, Lyleth prepared Dury for her formal, formative years.

“Dury!” Lyleth called and called. ‘That little mischievous child where is she?’ Lyleth hung out the window of the tree house and took a mighty inward breath, and then she hollered. “Dury! Get your little tail home!” it was not a question it was a demand.


Dury heard Lyleth’s holler clear across the field and ran. It was not very often that Lyleth yelled or screamed and when she did it was serious and not to delay. Her beautiful new purple dress caught around her ankles as she scampered up an embankment, making her roll backwards, ‘Pestilent gnat of a spider tree!’ Dury’s mind squealed as she fell into a puddle of mud. Standing up she stamped her feet in anger, her eyes welling with tears. “Blasted croaking father of a troll!” she hissed as she looked down at her pretty dress. “Lyleth is not going to be pleased!”

Lyleth stood hands on hips, watching Dury as she trundled up the front path. Evidence of the fall was all over her dress and her face was streaked with tears. Lyleth shook her head and smiled. ‘Maybe I should dress her in boy’s breeches for playing. At least then she can tear them and get them very dirty and it won’t make as much work for me.’

“Dury stopper those tears. I’m quite used to the fact that you ruin your good dress’s. You are such a girl, when you whimper and cry like that!” Lyleth scooped Dury into her arms, all the while giving her a quick visual appraisal. ‘Nope not a scratch, no squishy bits. My girls a strong one.’ She smiled as she released Dury. Instructing her to change into other clothes.

“Dury, its time that you went to school.”
“No!”
“Yes, and there will be no argument. I will not allow this one to be manipulated by you.” Lyleth wore her hard eyes and voice. The one that Dury did not hear all that often, but had heard enough to know it brooked no resistance.
Pouting Dury tried her sad face, only to end up laughing. “Please no!”
“Dury, don’t even try it on with me. I know you all too well.” Lyleth looked her in the eyes. Taking her hand, she led Dury to the front room and they sat down to discuss school and the future.

‘Ok, so I’m a Halfling. I knew that!’ Dury sat swinging her legs from the landing outside the kitchen. ‘I’ll live longer than a lot of my human friends and Halfling friends.’ She chewed her lower lip. ‘No biggy there.’ Lyleth’s cooking scents made Dury’s tummy dance. ‘Oh I’m so hungry, I could eat a Orc!’ Dury glanced over her shoulder, silently begging that Lyleth would cook faster. ‘Why does Lyleth insist on telling me what I’ve already worked out?’ Dury crinkled her eyes, deep in thought.

****

Dury was not the only one of her friends that had a pigtail. However, hers was very long. It started high up, almost on the top of her head and ending halfway down her back. It was fat too. Dury on chill days would pull it around her neck, like a scarf, and keep her throat warm.

Lyleth knew Dury’s hair was far from ordinary, she looked at the pigtail, and it made her feel sudden affectionate pride for her adoptive daughter. She then patted Dury’s bottom and handed her the satchel with her parchments, quills, and lunch.

“Off to school!” she said with a toothy smile. “Don’t argue with the teacher and please stay away from the mud ponds.” Her voice hinted at the laughter that she could barely contain.

Dury climbed down the ladder, her school satchel strapped tightly across her back, the hem of her purple dress securely held into place in her mouth. Concern and pride glowed from her face as she looked back up at Lyleth standing on the front landing.

“Go on now Dury! You will be fine!” Lyleth’s heart pounded in her chest as she tried to reassure her daughter that school was good. Lyleth was a little more than apprehensive when it came to Dury. “You’ll make plenty of new friends and start going out to parties, soon enough. Now Get!” As Dury turned her back, Lyleth quickly whipped a hand up to her eyes and wiped at a tear that threatened to spill. Her stomach was in knots.

****

“I’m far from ordinary!” Dury squared off facing her teacher. “No one is this school is ordinary! How dare you insinuate that we are all ordinary!” Her small face reddened, her hands clutched into tight little fists of frustration. “Take a look at us..’ Dury raised her hands, signalling at the crowd of young students that stood quietly behind her. “We live in the City of Halflings and you call us ordinary!” Her eyes tightened, she could feel her rage building. Swallowing deeply she chewed it back to the bottom of her stomach. ‘Later I’ll have to release this anger.’ She thought as she continued to confront the teacher.

“Dury Lane!, put a cork in it.” the teacher frowned. “You were not listening in the correct fashion.” His whiskered chin wobbled as he spoke. “What I said little miss cheeky mouth, was we have a collection of both ordinary children and extraordinary.”
Stern eyes held Dury’s, “You were distracted by lets just same nameless students.” He looked at the group of boys standing behind Dury, knowing that they had tugged her braid as he was making the curriculum announcement. “Now if you would just calm down, I’ll finish what I was saying.” He met Dury’s gaze and held it. A feeling of kinship, rushed into Dury’s soul.

“Today as it is the first day of school ….”

****
Meeting the strange old woman on the path home had made Dury pause and think. She’d said out of the blue, “It’s a pretty bizarre thing to learn to cope with, your gift. Its only weird if you find it weird!” She laughed, “You’re going to have to learn to digest it the proper way as it is happening or you will have trouble in the future.” Dury frowned in consternation, ‘What in the Mothers is she on about?’ Dury looked over her shoulder as she went past the strange old woman. “Your going to blow someone away one day.” She called after Dury, “Seek out Father Elsen, he will assist you.”

Later on her way home Dury stopped past the God Elsen’s shrine. She stood with her head cocked to the side and mouthed ‘Help me!’ As soon as she said that, things just went whooshing around inside her head. Like white noise, Dury put her hands over here eyes and waited for it to all subside.

Dreams

Lyleth and Dury lived in a tree house set on a gentle slope, just outside of Mispoint. Many expatriates of Mispoint might have fantasized about the tree house. If they’d had more than a passing chance to do more than peek at the floor.

The front of the house bore signs of a child, with little hand marks on the windows and sculptured toys on the ladders that lead to every room. Dury was a messy little girl and Lyleth would not have her any other way. Just to the north of the front room, was the dining area; it was a small area and readily bore the signs of a teething child. Teeth marks adorned the wooden legs of the table and chairs, there were cured pieces of soft wood with her imprints on the table and scattered across the floor. Bits of the mornings break fast littered in a wild array across the wooden floor. Lyleth had learned rather quickly not to keep a rug in the room. As Dury would often trip on her newly found legs as she tried to climb the furnishings. The dining room had quickly become a playroom for Dury, as she could build her own tree house from the tables and chairs.
The kitchen looked grim, even with the sun streaming through the opened top half of the window. Lyleth was on a ladder painting little stencils and the kitchen was full of paint buckets. Whilst she’d been preparing the meal, Lyleth had looked at the walls and made the decision that they needed freshening. The table was cluttered with half empty pots of jam, the local Mispoint news and scribed parchments from her friends. Dury was having a nap on the floor, amongst the wreckage of break fast. Her long red hair plaited and a comforting end being sucked by a zealous little mouth. Her skirts, layers of them, cushioned her gnome-sized body as she slept in peace, the string of amethyst crystal beads firmly clutched in her fist, their song playing ever so gently on the breath of the sleeping Dury.

Pale yellow walls and black woodwork would hide the marks of a child, Lyleth thought as she finished the last stencil of a rune around the window. The script read ‘Yea sis grant this home slil, cha, and ort. Ixt our ousd and imbue us with evt. Ewn us with irt and allow the ght to uned ion through a ine ein with fuf. Lig our tre and dar fty ect from its door.’ (Loose Translation – Dexterous self grant this home vitality, energy, and constraint. Protect our destiny and imbue us with movement. Partner us with separation and allow the warrior to communicate disruption through a gateway indestructible. Futile strength our defence and knock back fertile births from our door. You will need to read the Gnomes runes to understand this more fully.)

Lyleth stood back admiring her scribing when a wild squeal and a flung out arm, clutched into a fist slammed sideways into her ankle. Eyes wide with outrage Dury turned over and stood, stomping away, her smeary wet face, not reflecting the sudden flush of strength that had flooded her small body.

“Glorious mother of a pestilent gnat, molesting an earlobe! Where did that come from?”

Lyleth called after Dury’s retreating back. Dury turned and Lyleth peered at her face, there was a flicker of fear, even a dope could see that. Lyleth dropped her brushes and ran forward. Forgotten now were the plans of flowers on the windowsill, dried herbs to be hung from the branch encased ceiling and spices on the dresser. It was alarming. ‘Why did she strike me? What made her cry?’ she thought as she chased a now happily squealing Dury out of the house and down the ladder to the garden. ‘Dury never cries.’ Lyleth’s mind reminded as she scooted down the ladder.

Lyleth knew there was something about her daughter that she did not understand. Through her friends, she had found out that Dury was a true Halfling, her mother human and father Elven. Educating herself on her daughter’s behaviours and traits of her race was a priority. Through other Halflings, Lyleth ascertained that Dury would have an increased life span and she would age slower than her counter parts. This had benefits for not only Dury, but for Lyleth. It meant Lyleth would have her daughter around longer and as a child for a blessed amount of time. Though Lyleth dreaded the Teen years, she knew she would have to learn to muddle through all the dilemmas that presented themselves. Nevertheless, it meant that Dury’s non Halfling friends would grow faster, marry sooner and pass away, before she would. This saddened Lyleth and she decided early, that Dury would need to understand death and its finality.

Dury’s minute voice broke Lyleth’s revere, “I’m sorry!”
Lyleth beamed at her quickly, flashing a toothy smile that always made Dury grin and chuckle.

Together they tussled at ground level. Long forgotten was the dream that had frightened Dury, only to Lyleth. It niggled at the back of Dury’s mind, she could recall some parts, but not what had actually frightened her from her sleep, making her strike her mother with such fury. Her body still felt the savage strength that she had used and called forth. Many times Dury had felt small changes; she’d seen the effects of her own wishes, the rustle of a breeze on a hot day, the stirring of leaves when she had to assist with cleaning the yard.

Even within her own playing, her dolls would puppet around, following Dury’s instructions in the tales, dances, and songs that she made up. Her child’s mind, expanding on the truths of her tales, it was also the trait of her mothers upbringing. Embellishing on a tale was a gnome habit and it had rubbed off in Dury.

It was early Tazar the northwesterly weather would be on them, four months of wind and water. With scant spells of sharp, scintillating sunshine that thrilled Dury and tempted her outdoors, snatching play whenever Lyleth was not watching.

Often the boundaries would blur and Lyleth would let Dury play in the rain and wind. Frowning in concern and realising that her daughter grew during these months more than any other time. She’d pull out her sewing needles and start making adjustments to Dury’s clothes. The roads and paths to and from the City would be covered with the wild creepers and they would spill onto the roads, snaring unsuspecting feet, pulling them into the boggy marshes. The walls of the City would turn a moss green and boats on the river Vour would accumulate and open a river bazaar. Even small fish would suddenly appear in pools, which would normally be dry.

It was raining when Dury came into the tree house, heading for her room. Lyleth looked up and saw the slanting silver ropes cascading down the eaves of her house, falling to earth and ploughing up her garden. During this weather, Lyleth would pull some levers within her home and the roof would curl downwards, like a hat covering ears. Otherwise, her walls would grow soft and become covered with moss. Dampness would seep into their home, and life would become a stinky mess.

“Dury, I hope you’re changing out of those wet clothes.” Lyleth called as she went back to her sewing.

© Findbotr July/August 07

Anemo Eolic, her Character Images.

Is where Anemo Eolic was conceived and through the thoughtful antics of a few artisans, her life images have been located.

The following are images of Anemo as she grew older and somewhat wiser.


Now this is a lovely image of Anemo as a toddler. Is she not the cutest little darling?
You can see in her eyes the hints of sansar whiteness and can just imagine her whimsicality.



It is said that a lot of these images were lost throughout the Legends of Mernac. But I know that this scribe is very pleased to have had them found and to be able to share them with everyone.

Little princess, indeed the apple of Lyleths eye. Spoilt not by any means, but left to enjoy life as only a child should and could.
Anemo's adoptive sister Brizmoltal will adhere to that account too!
Together they grew into their teens years, having thought on their choosen paths for many seasons.
In some cases notably evident and in others not! As is the case with many children.

Anemo and Brizmoltal both adore their adoptive mother Lyleth and will forever appreciate her for the gifts that she provided them with in their formative years and beyond.

Maybe some helpful artisan will locate the other family images, the ones that contain Brizmoltal and Lyleth.

Such a Teen if ever there was. Look at her eyes as she sits in the tree, wonder what she is thinking, what she was doing or even contemplating?





Her Legend and Lore tell the tale as does some of the rest of her family members tales. (please note scribes are working on those.)


Blessed are the Mothers and Fathers of the Legends of Mernac.

Did they not bless this young woman with the gracious good looks all through her life. What an enticing your barmaid Anemo made!
I bet the owner of the Tavern that provided Anemo with her first gainful employment, had more than the drunkards to watch out for!

Aahh, such a lusty wench is our Anemo. Her corset is kept in the magicains guild of Mispoint. It is said by the scribes and sages, that there was some sort of magical allure contained within the garment. However, I think the lure was Anemo herself.


Finally, we finish with the Ethereal Wind Element, herself. Disciple of Elsen. Anemo knew in small ways what her lifes course would be and as she grew she took to each step in learning with the joy of knowing that one day she would become the Wind element.

Lyleth and Brizmoltal, both knew there was something special about the young woman in their lives and embraced it, encouraging her to establish and stretch for her goals. As with most families, it is often hard to let a child move forward. But through understanding, it can be obtained with lessened degrees of pain.



Thankyou for stopping by and partaking in the joys of Anemo Eolics lost images. I do hope that you will take the time to read her tales as they are scribed. Even in their raw forms. Please don't forget to read her families tales too, you may find out more about this character as well.

There's Koomba treats at the door and always a warm fire in the hearth, take care now and do behave, but within the limit's! (Wink, wink)

Mispoint

Mispoint is a busy city near Ironforge that could be described as having two faces. It is a densely populated center, with all manner of beings bred when different races of the light come together. There are half elf-half human beings, half fae-half human, half dwarf- half-elf (yes it does happen), and many more to behold. Sometimes shunned in their own communities, these half-breeds have found acceptance in Mispoint. With all of these different races and race combinations to be had, Mispoint is an eclectic mix of customs and religions.

Mispoint is the capital City of Halflings it lies in the Kingdom province of Hob in Cathall, and imbued with the spirit of modernity and hard work. However, it also conserves its ancient origins, which are evidenced in its architecture and structure. Gothic guilds, chapels and palaces all bear witness to the phases of prosperity that Mispoint has seen down through the centuries. All built during the second half of the first millennia.

Mispoint developed on the banks of the river Vour, and on the edges of Tythea forest and during the second half of the first millennia the cities inhabitants built walls to encircle the Guilds, the market and the older part of the city. The guilds of the various Halfling races often reflected their origins, adding a show consisting of a mixture of styles, evidence of restoration and embellishment at various times when funds permitted. The key characteristic of Mispoint's historical architecture is a strong tri colour motif. Façades and interiors of the guilds are decorated with horizontal bands of local marble alternate between light and dark colours.

The city itself has an ancient and long-lasting vocation to commerce, and the cities most famous daughters have made important contributions to the economic history of Mernac. The most well known is the Ethereal Wind Element, Anemo Eolic who climbed to the heights of Ethereal power from the beginning of the first half of the 1st millennia. In the second half of the first millennia, the Magicians Guild of Halflings became one of the most beautiful buildings in Mispoint and today houses an archive of documents and letters written by Brizmoltal Yasreeala. The documents show Alaunmol Yasreeala development of becoming a sorcerer & the history of ‘Dury Lane’ aka Anemo Eolic. The Astrologer's Guild also has representation for the study of the stars and heavens are also found in Mispoint.

The main commercial activity in Mispoint, already well developed in the first half of the first millennia, was that of the textile industry - specifically production of wool woven, from spinning, twisting, warping, weaving, and dyeing to finishing. If you are interested in textiles and design the Ta Cular is a wonderful place to while away an afternoon. The museum is located in the beautiful Ruis palazzo inside the city walls and has collections of textiles from ancient Seelos and Central Port Mystic fabrics to modern collections of textiles.

Mispoint is also home to many important reliquaries, the most important of which is the Corset Dury the sacred corset was reputedly worn by the humble barmaid/female thug Dury Lane aka Anemo Eolic, and was acquired in Tythea forest by a merchant called Spirnozz Nadomar a Halfling Drow Troll. As legend has it, the corset was a gift from Dury to Brizmoltal Yasreeala who was a beautiful bride on the night of her Mastery. Today the corset is housed in a purpose built cabinet so that Magicians such as Alaunmol and Quavfaer Zardor may gaze upon it and see the history of Dury Lane. The corset is shown to the public four times a year: at Bruda/Quont’s holiday, Chandralee , Holiday of the Mothers & Fathers, Celestial Dance and the Day of Siberlee when Mispoint hosts a colourful parade.

The Summoner's Guild, a large mansion that is the work of the first Halflings, holds a picture of the Siberlee that is famous for her miracle making. The mansion is found in the one of the most evocative piazzas of Mispoint, they also hold the scrolls on the Five Elements, the piazza also holds the massive 666 Guild Mansion.

The Battlefield Angels keep is another of Mispoint's beautiful buildings. It dates from the second half of the first millennia, that was originally a monastery but in second half of the first millennia, it was sold to the Battlefield Angels to be converted into a college. The college has had students from the most eminent families of Mernac including Shemptwiddle. **** Unsure on this reference as I could not find anything to fit into this category. ****

Mispoint is the capital of the smallest province of the Kingdom of Hob in Cathall. Formerly part of the province of Dilbers Stand, it was recently given autonomy. Centuries of subordination of Mispoint to Dilbers Stand is but one stimulus for Mispoint is to remain independent as a city and as a culture. The scribe Aet Ect (another illustrious student of Battle Field Angels College) wrote of the civic pride of the Mispoint.
Aye, Mispoint does seem like a kind of paradise for most, but it has a deep dark secret lurking in its shadows.

"Being born in Mispoint is a great benefit, more a merit than a fortune, and you can see from the tenacity with which the citizens of Mispoint defend their provenance when quite easily they could pass as Ironforges."

Original Scribes comments:
Ok, I’ve taken the liberty of naming the river that runs along side Mispoint on the maps and also the forest.

The river Vour lies to the west of Mispoint.
The forest Tythea lies to the north of Mispoint.

There will be some Open Saplings for other scribes to get creative with, within this place description. The other description will be incorporated into Anemos Book.


© Findbotr June 2007

Lyleth

Lyleth – Gnome is aggressive by nature, and extravagant. She has a compact athletic body even when relaxed; her light skin often marks her from her social class. Hazel eyed within a thin, high-cheek boned face she can often deceive easily. Her coarse, curly, medium-length, dark brown hair, hangs down her face in unruly tendrils; she is the single adoptive parent of Dury Lane and Brizmoltal Yasreeala. She is the innocent tutor of children with some strange gifts.

Her clothes are androgynous in style, mostly wool in faded warm colors; such as teal, forest green and earthy browns; the overall style is simple and involves a lot of long baggy pants and shapeless long tunics. Often covered with an apron of cotton for indoors and leather for outside labor. During the festivals, Lyleth is known to be a little more flamboyant wearing, a lot of long flowing skirts, flared sleeves, and shawls. Her normally long tunics are discarded for smaller tighter ones that she adorns with her trinkets.

With an interest in dancing, she encouraged both her adoptive daughters to sing and dance. Lyleth loves art and enjoys filling her home with objects that many would not consider as decorative. However, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder and Lyleth’s eyes view life in a very different way to most Mernacians.

Lyleth keeps a guarded scroll of her life and that of her young daughters. As
Lyleth can be suspicious of other inhabitants of Mernac and the nature of their agendas. Her scroll is called ‘Lies and Truths of Lyleth, it is said to be hidden within her tree house in Mispoint.

Lies and Truths of Lyleth – Her book and legend. Contains informative information about not only her life, but also that of Dury Lane aka Anemo Eolic and Brizmoltal Yasreeala her second adoptive daughter, in her mind.

© Findbotr July 2007

Legend of Anemo Eolic

Birthday

Forlorn cries echoed through the Tythea forest, in the kingdom of Hob, in Cathall. A human woman braced herself against a mighty tree, as the tightening bands gripped her sides, her body wanting to expel the bulk that she carried deep within her womb. Barely enough time to grab a lung full of fungus-scented air, she cried out. A ripping, inside her body, causing her to collapse in a heap, her forehead bruising against the ridges of bark, rivulets of blood dripping into her pain-glazed eyes, shakily, she reaches her fingers between her legs, gripping the bulk, pulling and pushing with her internal muscles. With a rush of air and a sodden plop, the half-human elven baby lay in silence, staring upwards to the canal of her birth.

The young human mother reached out as she fell to her side, blood gushing from the internal tears. As she touched her new child, not knowing its sex, the fire in her eyes dissipated. The babe, mewled, feeling the link, between mother and child break. Then it cried, it screamed. Filling its lungs with a mighty breeze, the child startled the Tythea forest creatures, its cries resounding, bouncing, back and forth against the bulky trees. Scrunched fists and kicking legs, a flurry of leaves kicked up creating a small tornado, which shifted the babe, closer to its dead, but still warm mother. Its small fingers reaching out, curling into pubis hair, the baby instinctively knew it required warmth for its own survival.

Hours past, the newborn lay snuggled against its cooling mother. Not a single creature ventured close, not even to sniff. Fear, from the child, kept the creatures away. Every time a smaller inhabitant came close, the baby would howl, stirring the air, with small flourishes, frightening the animals, good and bad alike away.

Mothers Sola and Witriss felt the child’s cries and distress; they looked across the woman’s circle and spoke gently to Mother Canola. Hoping that one of her children was in the area, but no, there was not. However, Mother Canola sensed a friendly force and with some gentle probing, directed the soul to the babe. The three Mothers stood by watching as a small gnomish female walked to the tree and the body.

Lyleth was undone in the instant she discovered the baby snuggled into her dead mother’s crutch. The sight touched a maternal cord she’d hidden for so long. Canola moved forward and picked up the babe, eyeing the child then looking across to Mother Sola, who nodded in confirmation. Mother Canola gave the babe a gift, mental and physical, the mental adding to her inborn natural abilities. Lyleth held out her arms, the babe made no protest as the transfer was complete.

Sinking to her haunches Lyleth inspected the child for any deformities. Finally, after the long scrutiny, Lyleth put a long shrimp like finger into the child’s mouth. The sucking proved, intuition, she was hungry. It was then that Mother Canola’s second gift appeared. A string of amethyst crystal beads, they twinkled and sang a small lullaby.

Harken ‘Roadius’
A child is borne
Harken ‘Bu’
A soul to strengthen
Harken ‘Canola’
A mind to learn

Hear the cry dear ‘Mother Siberlee’
Bless the child
With fitful sleep
Sleep little one
Sleep little one
Feel the arms of ‘Mother Siberlee’ in your dreams.

On a sleigh golden
Carry the dreams of a child
Into the cradle of silver
Spirit his/her bad dreams away.
Lull the little soul into pleasant dreams.
Sleep little one

Conceived with Quont’s lust
For days and days
So may you gain sleep quickly
Little one
Sleep in the blissful realms
Of Fae
May the dragons chase your
Bad dreams away.

© Limley the Bardic gnome.

Reaching into her backpack, Lyleth found her skin of milk. Gently, she dipped her shrimp fingers into the milk, encouraging the child to suckle it from her finger tip. Each time she brought her fingers closer to the babe, it began mewling in her direction. Lyleth’s, compact athletic body relaxed, as her light skin, warmed with natural feelings of tenderness, love, and desire. Her hazel eyes softened within a thin, high-cheek boned face. Her coarse, curly, medium-length, dark brown hair, hung down her face in unruly tendrils, as she settled into the routine of feeding the babe in a not so natural manner.

Lyleth knew she needed to mark the date of her finding the little orphan Halfling. She would also have to report the find to the Healers and Procets of Mispoint. Ensuring that her claim to the child was validated in the process. She’d marked the mothers grave with a grouping of rocks and compost, then took out her small blade and carved a sign into the trees bark. It was the runes, Ect, Sis, Uned, and Ewn. Showing that not only a death had occurred in this place, but also a birth and a gift from the ‘Gods’ had been given to a gnome. Within her own book called the Lies and Truths of Lyleth, she penned the date Troval, Perrine 80, in the season 621.

The baby lay peaceably against Lyleth’s back, jogging gently along, while a fascinating pattern of bare branches flickered through the slanting afternoon light. Mud flew up as Lyleth jogged towards Mispoint, making a gritty veil cover the baby’s limbs. Down her track at the back of her allotment, she quickly scrambles, through the thicket of brambles and into the rear yard of her Tree House.

Mispoint heights, is where Lyleth lives, her sunny little square of land is backed onto the Tythea forest and only an hour or two’s walk into the City of Mispoint. Her home is a large Verna Tree, its mighty limbs stretch across her allotment and there is adequate room for all size visitors in her home.
The main room has ample space, for visitors, but it is quite bright and sunlit. The walls are obscured entirely by floor to ceiling bookshelves, however, one wall is cheerily splashed in a drab white, a chilly wind comes through an open window, stirring the window curtains, lacy, and aqua, a sweet fragrance reminiscent of incense permeates the room and is stirred by the surprising gust from the window.
A simple country rag rug and an eclectic assortment of discarded furnishings that Lyleth has collected throughout Mispoint and City of Halfway Gorge adorn the floor in this room.

It is on one of the larger rocking chairs that Lyleth places the baby. Grabbing a couple of her scatter cushions, she ensures that the child cannot roll off, as she runs into her bedroom to gather some of her smaller clothing. The baby she knew had already attended to nature down her back, nonetheless, Lyleth attends to the needs of the child before her own.

The baby is so pleased to out of the backpack and off Lyleth’s back, she beats at the air with her small hands and crows with delight. Lyleth took stock of the situation, knowing that with a human child in her home, it would not stay clean, but really, she did not overly care. The Mothers Canola, Sola, and Witriss had blessed her with the gentle probing push to go into the Tythea forest and find the orphaned child. Lyleth’s life dream, silent and confidential was now hers, a wee one to look after, even if it grew into a gangly human.

“Now little one”, Lyleth chided as she put wrappings around the middle of the baby, “keep still. I’ll not have you making a mess on me furnishings.” She giggled as the child stopped wiggling and squirming. “You need a name!” Lyleth lent her head forward, blowing bubbles of air across the baby’s stomach, starting a riot of movement from the baby again. ‘Hhmm, my path is called Dury Lane and I found you just a ways from there. Therefore, I’ll call you Dury Lane.’

Her eyes sprinkled with delight as she felt a small nod of approval wave through the air. “Yes, it is meant to be. Your name little gangly one is Dury Lane!” leaning in she kissed the baby atop her head, and then scooped her into her arms as she went to attend to her immediate needs. Placing Dury in a wash basket, she knew the child would be safe.

© Findbotr July 2007

Anemo Eolic, her Character

Anemo Eolic is a name that is the combining form borne by the wind given to her by Elsen. It was through Aventa Half-Elven, the creator of the Third Path of Focus and the third of Elsen's apprentices to be elevated to Ethereal Master, that Anemo was drawn to studying Ethereal Wind. In the past, Anemo was a humble barmaid/female thug that just could not contain some urges. Anemo was born in Mispoint, the City of Halflings, in the Kingdom of Hob, in Cathall.

As Anemo was a human half elf, though more human than elf, she opted to take test of the night of thirteen dreams and it descended upon her in her eightieth season. Because of Anemo Eolics hooting n tooting ways, she wanted to follow the Aventa Path of Ethereal Mastery. As soon as she started her studies, she had no choice over what element she focused on: the ‘Ethereal Wind Element’ was within her!

Her flaming luxurious red hair once glittered, but when she began her studies of Ethereal Wind, she developed traits similar to her chosen element. Her hair, once flaming, became pale and transparent and her eyes, though still as blue as the heavens, developed cloudiness, just a pale whisper of sansar whiteness. Her clothes, as before her apprenticeship, were large and loud. Voluminous billows of skirts would alee from her body. As she shifted across the lands, her bodice would ripple delicately while she danced or it would squall, flying in the flurry of her variable moods.

Anemo was a somewhat robust female, unlike her male counterparts. Her physical attributes bore resemblance to her astrological sign with healthy skin, pearly teeth, silky hair, & fine lips. Her diplomatic character was assuredly prone to frivolity, and she was very flirtatious, perceptive, and idealistic and refined which certainly bore the fact that she was indeed a Butterfly.

As Anemo grew and transformed into her powers, absorbing more and more knowledge and Ga, people began to observe the flux in her condition. Those who ventured too close to her would feel the air pressure change enough to pop their ears. This pressure change marked her maturity in Ethereal Mastery. Anemo loved to dance, and loved to sing (often it sounded like howling, but who would tell a wind element that they were off key!). Reading and writing soon became a valuable pastime to Anemo and thus her scholarly education began.

Anemo focused on her studies, and early in the fifteenth season of her training, she discovered she was an ‘anemoscope’ a natural direction recorder. This made it easier for her to feed her hunger, but not only that, it allowed her to direct her own fury, tempest, whiff, huff, and ripples; along with other attributes that she used to herald the wind. The wind coiled within her being and her strength grew. Many items in the Lands of Mernac fed her wind, but she wanted more than internal wind; she wanted to become the wind and manipulate it to her wants and needs.

Anemo voluntarily became a Disciple of Elsen, in the moon of Fivo, in the seven-hundred & eighty fifth season. Readily throwing her lacquered nails into the air and across the Lands of Mernac, her hooting n tooting ways were not to be kiboshed.

Father Elsen's other disciples often would call out to Anemo. Vickie, the Fire Disciple, would tease and trick Anemo into coming closer and closer, thus fanning her flames. When these two sisters were in close quarters, much devastation befuddled the Lands of Mernac. Anemo disliked touching the ground, yet at times, you knew she had touched down. Goran, the Earth Disciple, would often throw rocks in Anemo’s direction. Because of Earth's destructive influence over Wind, Goran enjoyed provoking Anemo. When she touched land, the corkscrew effect of her presence would always incur his wrath, especially since she was leaving in her wake much devastation.

Occasionally, she would enjoy the lure of a tunnel, the thrill of danger luring her into Goran's easy reach, yet most of the time she was heard whistling and cavorting in the trees and around the mountains. Anemo is rather fond of icy cold winters, the chill adding power to the effects of wind. Socially, she can be distracted and flighty, much like the ‘Wind Element’ itself -yet she is forceful enough to direct anything to her will. With a few notable exceptions, such as Elsen or Goran's destructive touch.

Her aura is often seen playing across the currents of lakes, tickling at trouser legs and flipping up ladies' skirts.

When in her human/elf form, Anemo Eolic was not so different from her elemental form. As she transformed into a disciple, Anemo became completely Ethereal Wind. Though she could not solidify her own body, she could make partially see-through puppets to interact with mortal folk. Her gases consisted of colors reflecting her moods, and hence Anemo chose to blend in with those around her.

By appearing in shadow puppet form, Anemo applies an extension of herself to others, the motivation behind this skill enables Anemo to explain, explore, embrace, or analyze the conditions of the Mernacians. It is one of the safest ways for her to act out, act up, entertain, educate, commiserate, wonder aloud, unburden herself, or release her feelings. Anemo has used this skill from before her transformation to disciple. It was what drew Elsens attention to her in the first place. By using her strong powers of the Ethereal Wind to fulfil her need to tell stories, she would lapse into a shadow puppet to further entertain her audience; it also sated her desire to see the good guys win and justice done. Anemo creates a lighted area behind her; the light infuses her shadow, allowing selected inhabitants of Mernac to view her in her ‘Ethereal’ form. The translucent gases appear as three-dimensional painted auras, making Anemo visually appealing to the eyes of those that behold her. However, it takes an enormous amount of her Ga to stay in her puppetry form.

It has always been both a sword and a shield to Anemo, her armor in a world of frustrations and disappointments. Anemo realised that in her shadow puppet form, she could easily frighten the mortal races and tried to keep ahead of the game called life. Nevertheless, she did not get away with her tricks so often. Running on the breeze was her fastest getaway, her tongue would often tantalize and tease, yet it could be a whiplash and come across as crude or rude.

In her Ethereal form, Anemo can interpret the noises and language of all the inhabitants of Mernac, marking her as one of the few disciples that, through the nature of her element, has the ability to perceive sound on the physical world of Mernac. Elsen's disciples can only view the physical world through the Ethereal Element they become. As sound disturbs the air and as Anemo is one with the air, it makes her perception of languages even easier.

As a Disciple of Elsen, she has control over Ethereal Wind equal to his. This is not limited to Ethereal Mastery, but also includes the ability to withhold the element from others. However, she cannot, solidify her own ethereal body without Elsen nearby, needing to construct puppets of solid air to interact with the physical world. When Elsen is near any of his disciples, he suffers a Trauncha, a penalty for the creation of his disciples. This Trauncha makes him helpless, unable to control any of his Ethereal Elements. When Anemo senses his presence, she feels apprehension mirroring his own, for she knows he will repel her with Ethereal Earth before she can get too close.

Nevertheless, always, there is that sprinkle of a smile dancing at the edges of her sansar, white washed, blue eyes.