Sitting in the shade of an old and twisted oak tree, beside a still pond is a woman of indeterminate years. Dark haired, dark eyed with skin as fair as a magnolia blossom. She is writing on a large piece of parchment her finger covered in ink. Her quill moves quickly, making faint scratching noises as she writes. She smiles,looking up sensing your presence and speaks her voice husky. “Greetings unto the my lord ,I am Nimhane a teller of tells, and some times defender of innocence. With a look of inquiry she ask ”Would you care to hear a story from not so long ago.” You nod and she invites you to take a seat on the thick carpet of grass at her feet. Being a teller of old tells, she sits and thinks a moment her eyes focused on a distant time and place , and then starts where all good story's do.


“Once upon a time, in a place not so very faraway, there was a young warrior, of quite courage, and This is her story.”

She stands alone in a high mountain pass, one booted foot resting on an old and twisted stump . Her violet eyes locked on some distant thought. The cold winds of early spring blowing her dark cloak about her slender frame. Hair as pale as moonlight twisted in a tight braid lying down the center of her back. A proud young warrior dressed in skin tight black leathers. She holds her grandfather’s Dragon blade. The black diamon eyes of the dragon twisted about the handle glinting in the early morning light, it's blood stained length resting against her thigh. A single dagger with a wicked twisted blade at her waist, two more stuck into her left sleeve. The great War-horse OnyxWind stands at her side, his black coat lathered and covered in dust. Together they look out over the land of Tan'Sail, the only home she has known for the last fourteen summers.
Standing there as still as all the lost time of the deepst night, while everything around her moves in silent motion. The earth turning on its path, the sky never still where the soft winds blow bringing the rebirth of spring carried on the harsh winds of change. She looks to the distant planes below, watching the silvered winter's wheat blow gently in the breeze. The stone fortress of her father’s castle, its towers dark and unforgiving sitting on the shore of lake Tan’ave.
Green and gold pennants flying against the soft blue of the sky. Bright multi paned windows reflecting back the mornings light hiding the lies held within. With a longing born of lost hope she watches as the castle awakens. Those of the household going about their task, not knowing that one among them has fled.
Jettamie stands watching as her father’s patrols leave by the main gate. She sees The Daniel,leading a group, with Fatil among their number. She watches as other groups of 6 to 7 men head off in different directions. Knowing they will soon be seeking her.
Moving in silent grace she touches the small amulet, that hangs from a braded about her neck, and cast a silent spell twisting the signs of her passage up into the mountain pass. She stands remembering it all, the joy of living with Tristen Fallenknight, the man she had always called Da, and his death with the coming of her father Seth Un Blackmon.
Her thoughts drift away to a time not so distant in the past. Of fond memories spent playing in the village, and wandering through the forest.
Where Summer's sun filled days drifted slowly across her minds eye, those moments filled with song and laughter. Thoughts of time spent learning of the people and magic of her mother’s home. Remembering the sunlight falling soft through the great trees. Bright days filled with love and hope. The great joys of the first five years of her life. Jettamie's Violet eyes grow darker as she remembers the rest.
The Wizard Seth Un Blackmon wanted a strong child, and so chose the lovely Woods elf Sha’naterra, from the neighboring land of San’teal. Knowing of her use of elemental magic, and her strength of will. He thought her a perfect choice for his unholy quest. She was a beautiful woman. Tall, slim, with long Pale hair and violet eyes, full of gentleness and good will.It mattered nothing that She loved Tristen Fallenknight and they were to be wed.
Tristen a brave Knight who had fought for an evil king, had renounced his position and lands. He now had only a smallholding on the edge of the forest of Da’na. Here he raised horses, and farmed a small plot. All he wanted to do was live quietly there among the green hills and verdant valleys. Tristen hoped to marry the lovely Sha’naterra and raise a family. Even knowing that she had promised both heart and soul to another, Seth was determined to have her.
Seth called upone the shadows and sent word to his evil pet. I have work for you little deamon.” I wish the elf brought to me, no harm will you do to her that can not be mended. You will pay a dear forfit if I find you have played any of your evil tricks with this one.”From the shadows in the far conor of the darkended room apair of golden eyes gleem, “ I have heard your wishes, but what is in it for me?” Seth smiles, knowing he will get what wants the sooner if the offer to the deamon is good. “ Name a price that you know I can grant and it will be yours.” There among the shadows, movment the sound of wings moving slowly as the little deamon thinks, then speaks.” I wish a small thing, just a play thing only.” Seth shakes his head, knowing this would be her price. I will grant it, but try to keep this one alive a bit longer. With dark laughter the deamon trurns and drops backwards from the tower window, spreading wings wide the deamon is away to carry out Seth's wishes.
Sha’naterra was walking down the path from the village to Tristan’s house to talk of their planned wedding. Singing softly, touching the trees as she pased each one,their whispers telling her much. The young elf maiden, her thoughts drifting to Tristen as oft they did, failed to here the soft wispered warnings of the trees.
The great winged beast dropped from the sky as silent as death and stood in the shadows waiting for her to pass. Tanith, her wings folded close stood among the great trees her golden eyes ever watchful. Knowing the elf had to pass this way. Hidden among the concealing leaves, those golden eyes missing nothing. Chuckling softly at the thought of Seth's plan. She folded the great leather scaled wings back, wrapping her wickedly barbed tail around her left thigh. Wishing she could release the poison from tail and wingtip. With a sigh, she turned back to the matter at hand.
Sha'naterra slowly turning and dancing, singing, thinking only of her love. Smiling she invited the birds to join her joyous song. Her bright eyes full of laughter, she smiled at just the thought of seeing Tristen. Their plans were made, her dress ready. Her thoughts drifted to the sheer white gauze trimmed in violet ribbons,that she was to wear. She could not believe it would be just a few more days till they were wed.
Sha'naterra's screams echoed down the valley, as long wicked claws sank into the tender flesh of her shoulder. The daemon just smiled a wicked fangy smile, her golden eyes full of laughter. Tho Sha'naterra fought and screamed there was naught She could do. Tanith dragged her kicking and screaming across the road and took 3 running steps catching the wind, launching into the bright morning sky.
Tristen hearing her frantic screams, and strange laughter went running down the path. Arriving on the spot in time to see her carried away to the north. Standing there on the path he saw his future torn from his heart. There were only small bits of leaves and dust settling to mark the daemon's passing. Naught else was left but a single blood covered scrap of cloth from Sha'naterra's gown. He stood in impotent rage begging the gods for her safe return.
Frightened and pleading Sha'naterra clung to the beast's legs. Struggling against the cruel grasp. The rough leather of Tanith's wings beating around the frightened elf, the evil barbed tail wrapped around her waist. The Daemon just laughed wildly at her struggles, “ give it up elf you belong to the wizard now.” The wound in Sha'naterra's shoulder continued to flow, casting a crimson flow across the bodice of her dress. The daemon paid her little heed, only closing her claws a bit tighter, just enough to let her know there was no hope of escape. The land they flew over was wild mountains, with little in the way of habitation. The Forest deep with few paths crossing its dark depths. Once they crossed the river Sha'naterra's dispare was complete.
In the distance she saw a great stone Castle, it's many turrets toped with bright green and gold pennants. If she had not been so frightened she mite have marveled at it's beauties, as it set there on the shore of the azure lake. Bright jewel colors flashing in the sun from it's many windows, hiding the darkness at it's heart. The Land of Tan'Sail, where the Wizard awaits.
The daemon dropped her in a high tower. Retreating through the window wince it came. Alone and frightened Sha'naterra sought escape. The only entrance barred from without, the roof high with a single opening in the center. The Window a dizzying hight from a rocky shore. It was a stark chamber, bare walls and floor. The only feature a strange stone set in the middle of the floor, with rings set around it's edge. Dark carvings of unspeakable creatures set around it's base. Wicked claws and beaks intertwined. Not knowing what was to come she set upon the stone to wait for what the fates had in store.
Just as the last rays of the sun fell from the tower the wizard entered in a clash of lighting, all dark robes and tangled black hair. The silver runes around the hem of his robe dancing with pale fire as he stopped by the door to watch her. He spoke not a word. Sha'naterra tried to defend herself, but his will was to strong. Seth cast a dark spell twisting her in bright cords of magic. Binding her helpless, to the dark stone alter. Slowly Seth proceeds, setting the stage, making sure every element is in place. Draping the sheer fabric of time over the bound elf he places the Amethyst vessel of dark earth to the north. The Azure crystal vessel of water to the south. The fire filled umber vessel to the east, and a golden tray with a leather scale from the daemons wing to the west. The Dragon blade is drawn across her abdomen leaving a singles line of bright red droplets.
The act was committed in total premeditation, as Seth seeks to fulfill the prophecy. Sha’naterra was tied to the alter of his desire; in the blackness of midnight, he took her innocence. Calling to the mountains, the seas and sun. Then unto winds he beckon forth the one foretold. Sha’naterra could do nothing bound as she was, but pray to the gods of light that they might be merciful. Seth took great pains in telling her what would become of this child as he completes the ritual. The life she would lead the training he would give her, the warrior she would become and her death at his hands.
The wizard wove a dark web of power and magic to bring their child of innocence and magic into his hands. The power Seth expended was almost beyond his reach but he knew that his goal would be worth everything he had done. The prophecy told of this child’s strength of magic and her bright life force. That she must be taught both magic and the arts of war. He intended to do everything it took to bring the power into his hands.
The lady was injured not within her body, but within her soul. Living daily with the torture of knowing what would become of the child growing under her heart. Seth never touched her save for the one night. Sha’naterra was well treated by all in the castle, respected for her equal dealings with all the staff. She did what she could for herself never asking for help unless she had to. The old cook went to great trouble trying to tempt her poor appetite. Though all were kind and knew what Seth had planned none would move to help her for fear of the Wizard wrath.
The chambers set aside for Sha'neterra's use was both comfortable and beautiful, the balcony over looking the quite waters of the lake. She would stand there looking across to the far shore thinking of Tristen. Letting her hands rest lightly on her swelling abdomen, Wondering if he sought her still, what he would think of this child, growing within her body. Bright morning sunlight warmed the room and a fresh breeze was blowing in across the lake. Rich wall hangings all in different shades of pale pink, and softest violet, with touches of green adorned the walls. Thick rugs lay on the harsh floors, a fire fresh laid in the hearth. Sha’naterra saw none of the beauties of her prison. Nothing she could ask for was not granted save her freedom.

Wandering the golden halls one day she encountered the old wizard Jarot. He approached her with caution, watching for her guard. He leaned close Whispering “My lady I have heard of thy plight, and would help thee." Why should I trust your words old man, none here risk defying Seth?” Sha'naterra watched him closely. He smiles a deep and shadowed smile "I do not condone what he seeks to do with this child," The old man ,looks deep into her violet eyes, “ trust me girl, you must for her sake.” he points to her growing belly. “Seth seeks her death as much as your own, do not let him win this time.” For some reason she trusts the old man, and having no other choice offered to her, she speaks softly, ”Talk and I will listen to what you have to say,” He smiles at her as he continues ,” Just beyond the outer wall there is a flower filled meadow. Start spending as much time there during the day as they will allow you, be ready to go when I can distract the guard, but you must hurry.” Jarott looks around an starts to say more, stops then looks deeply into her eyes, “ I will leave a small pack of supplies at the end of the path into the forest, but you must hurry. It will not take them long to comprehend you are gone. He has tried this before and I thwarted him then and will do so again.” turning he slips back into the shadows of a side hall.
Sha’naterra begins spending as much time in the meadow as she can, watching for the old wizard. Growing quite large with the coming child she acted as if she were having trouble getting around, always leaning on the guards arm asking him to fetch things and to assist her from every chair. The days were growing longer and the chill of the night deeper, she knew it had to be soon or never.

Sitting in the fading flowers of the meadow, singing to her unborn child telling the baby of her love. And the joys to be found in life. Working what magic she could trying to take the harshness from the prophecy. Hoping to escape and make her way home, to the arms of Tristen and safety. The birds started flying to their southern home, seeking the sun. The days grew shorter as autumn marched into the first chill of winter. It was cold enough to need a warm cloak on her walks. Sha’naterra was getting worried as the time for the child to be born was drawing nigh, if the old wizard did not move soon she would never be able to get away.
She had just about given up on the old wizard, thinking that he to was so afraid of Seth's wrath that he would not move to help her. Sha'naterra did not know what to do, the guards watched to closely for her to attempt escape on her on. She knew Seth's pet would be on her in a moment if she thought the elf was trying to get away. Sha'naterra spent many restless worry filled nights waiting.
Jarott had spent much time planning how to aid the gentle girl, he knew he had to not only distract her guards but also the daemon and Seth. The daemon he sent on a fools errand to retrieve a scroll he had mistakenly sent to the holding at Simarath, knowing this would get her out of the way for at least a day. She had friends at Simarath and would linger there a while. Seth was another matter, the only thing he could think of was to send a message from the young one pleading with him to come for a visit. Seth would go thinking she needed him.
The day came when Sha’naterra saw the old Wizard as he stepped from the door and motioned to the guard. As soon as the guard started walking towards the gate she was up and away moving towards the forest far more agile than any would have thought. The guard trusting that she would not venture far being so heavy with the child went to speak with the old wizard as he called. “Come here my good man I would have a word with thee.” Left alone for only a moment in the meadow Sha’naterra fled, running into the dark forest hiding among the shadows. Trying to walk only on the rocky ground so as to leave no traces. She covered her path masking it in magic, knowing it was not much but would have to do for Seth or his pet would soon follow.
All she could think of was getting to Tristen and the safety of his arms. Hiding by day and traveling only at night trying to avoid the patrols. She crossed the Plains of winter the moonlight hidden by dark clouds, as she traveled the stark fallow fields. Back among the trees she took but a moments rest, continuing she came upon a path leading to a high mountain pass and into San'teal. Slowly Walking the boulder-strewn trail every step a hazard she came into the mountains
of Forlorn Hope, their dark stones rising to meet the starlit sky. Not knowing the way Sha’naterra just followed her heart, trusting her love for Tristen to bring her home.
Foot sore and weary she found a small cave to sleep away the day. Using what magic she possessed, she cast a shadow of concealment trying to hide the small place from their seeking eyes. Sha’naterra awakened the elements and called them to cover the opening of her haven with a new growth of vines. Exhausted, sleep came slowly, all the aches of her pregnancy and the rough travel of the last few days robbing her of the rest she so needed. She dreamed of bright sunlight in a peaceful valley, of the dark headed and solemn man waiting on his porch-looking north still waiting for her, a mug of steaming Kala in his hand. She could almost hear his thoughts his concern for her.
Troubled dreams filled her sleep dangers known and unknown, a young wizard with a deep secret. A warrior with blood lust in his heart that could only be tamed by learning to trust. And always Seth’s pet pursuing a silver haired girl. Dreams of blood and battle, one slain the other weeping. Of love found and lost to harsh reality. As the moon slowly rises, Sha’naterra is finely able to rest.
Awaking, startled from a deep sleep she opens her violet eyes to see the winged daemon as the vines are parted and the beast steps into the small cave. The daemon has come for her once again its fangs gleaming in the faint light. Tanith spreads open her large leathery wings in the small cave to block her escape, her eyes two glowing golden pit’s. She hisses “the child, give me the child”. Scooting backwards against the unforgiving rock wall, speaking in almost a whisper, her words determined, “ Leave me alone I will not give you that which I hold beneath my heart.
Sha’naterra using the wall for support moves quickly , knowing she has but one chance, she begins to call the wind, “ Blow wind blow, come storm come, bring the lighting into my hands.” The daemon seeking to silence her voice ,slashes at her with one wicked clawed hand. Hissing, “ give me the child, it is all I seek.” Continuing Sha'naterra chants,” Life into life, death unto death.” Seth’s pet grabs her and tries to pull her from the small safety of the cave. Cowering as if to frightened to move, she then allows the daemon to drag her forth into the storm tossed night.
Raising one delicate hand, her silver hair whipped by the gale force winds she points one slender finger at the dark beast and chants the last line of her spell, ” come lighting come, bring forth the fire, bring forth death.” The daemon strikes out with one wicked poison tipped claw. Slashing out at her, opening the pale skin of her forearm from elbow to slender wrist. The other clawed hand grasping at her shoulder, seeking to drag her into the waiting jaws of death. Not caring that Seth will have her hide for killing his prize. Bleeding and weak, not knowing if she can destroy this thing, Sha'naterra jerks free. The flesh of her shoulder tearing the old wound open.
She claps her hands. With a boom of rolling thunder a ragged bolt of blue lighting flashes from the sky striking the daemon encasing her in a ball of blue irradiation, setting her leathery wings aflame. Tanith wails and screams in anger at having her goal torn from her grasp, “ he will have that which he seeks,” she hovers in the sky, voice loud above the storm,” you will not see the dawns light, my poison flows in you,” With one last taunt she darts to the north,” your child will live to meet it’s end on my master’s blade,” as the daemon flames away laughing into the night.
Descending from the pass, climbing slowly down the rough trail. More afraid than she has ever been, unsure if she can even save herself let alone the child . She continues around boulders cast across the stark landscape. Stumbling she falls on the banks of the river Lanosh, looking to it’s icy depths she seeks a shallow crossing. Sha’naterra wades waist deep across the icy river, seeing the far bank she moves her foot and finds a slippery rock and falls. Struggling with the weight of her wet gown she is swept away, tumbling, fighting for her very breath as she is carried more than a mile down stream, cast up on the bank she lays weeping, thinking of her child. Resting but a moment she stands and steps into the deep forest of Da’na.
Wondering through the tall trees weary beyond belief, knowing she is close to home. The trees sing in joyous welcome, the grass whispers "this way, this way, you are almost home." At last stumbling she finds Tristan’s Cottage and collapses to the rough boards of the porch to week to even stand or call out. Sha'neterra feels the first pangs of labor as her child seeks to be born. Bleeding from the many wounds, the poison of the daemon flowing through her body, she can think only of her child, as she falls deeper into lost dreams. Her rest is not quit as she sees the silver haired girl dancing then locked in desperate combat with a dark warrior. The scene shifts and there is pain and death and one born of magic and blood. Sha'naterra rest uneasily till dawns first light.
Tristen steps outside to greet the dawn, with a fresh cup of Kala wondering what news this day will bring. Will he find her at last? His concern growing, as it has been almost a year with no word of his love. Lost in thoughts of the long search. The time spent without finding a trace of Sha’naterra. He frowns as his thoughts drift back to the day she was taken. He had been standing just here at the porch rail, listing to her sing as she walked along the path. Her voice bright
and full of laughter, touching his heart as no other ever had. Lost in thought he does not see her lying in the shadows. Her poor broken body almost spent.
He remembers that lovely voice change to a scream of fright, masked in evil laughter as he ran from the porch and towards the turn in the path. Only to see her being carried away by a great winged beast. He thinks of the search and the total lack of information. Sipping his Kala he fingers the small discolored cloth, all that he has left of her. Tristen turns to go back into the cottage and sees her lying in a pool of her own blood.
The fair Sha’naterra weak and large with child. Binding her wounds he lifts and carefully moves her to his bed. Tristen calls for his man and sends him to the village for Jasmine the healer. She comes ands looks to the lady, cleaning and dressing the wounds, then drawing Tristen from the room and softly closing the door she speaks sadly,” there is not much I can do. There is a strong poison that flows through her blood and the child wishes to be born. Your lady is much to weak.”
Jasmine does what she can to ease the suffering of the dying elf. She sings the strongest magic she knows, pulling the pain away and sending it into the ground. Jasmine works tirelessly through the night, giving what comfort she can. Sha’naterra smiles sweetly at Tristen,” My love I would die in your arms, and be happy that the one I carry will be safe. Her name is to be Jettamie Sa’terra Blackmon, a child of darkness and light.” Into the night the child struggled to be born, Sha’naterra growing weaker as every moment passes.
Just at the dawns first breaking light, the child drew her first breath. Jasmine held Sha'naterra's hand introducing mother and child. The tired elf examined every detail of this small creature, ten small toes and fingers, two tiny elven ears, looking into her violet eyes so like her own Sha'naterra spoke the words of hope and love to this small being. Jasmine takes the baby and hands her into Tristen's keeping, “ We must let her rest, only time will tell if what has been done will help her.” as the day moves on past it's prime and dusk settles in, Tristen sets at Sha'naterr's bedside holding the child watching them both. The dieing elf awakens in the soft light and sees him there and reaches out her arms wanting to hold her child one last time. Holding her daughter in her arms Sha’naterra softly sings.

Tis time your eyes should close
The day has fled into night
The stars do brightly shine
Sleep my little one sleep
Holding you in my arms forever
As dreams we seek
Touching distant shores
The bright world to see
Sleep my little one sleep
As soft feather kisses
I place upon your cheek
Your eyes to gently close
As you fall to dreaming
Sleep my little one sleep
Looking at you in wonder
The joy of my heart
My hope touching
Your sweet life
Sleep my little one sleep
Holding your sweet smile forever
Within my heart
Building memories
To last a life time
Sleep my little one sleep
Seeing my life
Brought forth in your smile
I whisper to the winds
To watch and keep you
Sleep my little one sleep
Softly singing of heaven
Held in my arms
Sleep my little one sleep

Calling unto Naeve to protect her child with her last breath, she speaks softly the words giving the daughter she would never watch grow all the magic she posses, and dies in Tristan’s arms. The infant wails, as if understanding that in giving her life her mother had given up her own. One more sin to lay at the wizard’s door.