Post by Malka on Dec 13, 2005 14:43:29 GMT -5
Still bemused and overwhelmed by her conversation with the Lady Polrena, the dwarf enters the room she has taken in the inn, and checks to make sure her armor and weapons are still there and in good order. She looks down at herself, clothed in her favorite soft purple shirt, purple leggings and soft leather boots, clothes she had donned for the interview that had just ended.
Well. She had done it. She had earned and then accepted an invitation to join the Defenders of Valor. Pushing her red hair out of her eyes, Malka sighed with the hope that she had done the right thing. In introducing her to the guild, Lady Polrena had said things that brought a blush to her pale skin and fired her with the desire to live up to the promise that the Lady of the House of Virtue seemed to see in her.
Soon, Malka would need to return to Kalimdor to continue her work on behalf of the Night Elves. Before she left, though, she really needed to carry out her promise to Lady Polrena and write down her history so other Defenders would have a chance to know something about who she is. Sighing heavily, she seated herself at the small table in the room, and pulled out a piece of parchment and a pen.
In the course of her training as a paladin, Malka has been taught to write formal letters, such as the one she wrote that had earned her the interview that was now over. Still, this task seemed better suited to a more informal style, one that might let some of her self be more visible, instead of hiding behind the formal phrases and rolling periods of more ornate prose. Sighing again, she started to write in a voice as close to the way she speaks as she could manage . . . . .
I'm Malka. I'm from the dwarven lands, which makes sense when you realize I am a dwarf. Since not all Defenders are dwarves, and may have no patience for the traditional recital of my clan and ancestry before a story, I am dispensing with that portion of this tale.
I like to thwack things until they are no longer a threat to me or the people I love. I want to protect the people around me, and try to bring Light to the world. I'm not much for subtlety, but I am very good at surviving things. Plus, I generally have a good sense of humor about dying when it's my own darned fault, which it usually is. Luckily, the Spirit Healers seem to agree, and have resurrected me many more times than I perhaps deserve.
I am still in training, but I am going to be a Holy paladin. Think of me as a battle priest and you will have the general idea. I want to heal things, hit things, destroy the Scourge, and generally clean the world up. When I place my very self between Darkness and its potential victims, I can feel the Light coursing through me, and I know I am living the life I was meant to live.
When I was a child, I had a clear calling to serve the Light, but an equally clear reluctance to join the priesthood. I was forever "borrowing" my brother's axes and maces, and sneaking out to thwack things, primarily things that were hurting those who could not defend themselves against their incursions. Even in dwarf lands, protected though we were from much of the late fighting, sickness drives beasts to attack defenseless dwarves, and those who are allied with the Dark forces try to hurt the innocent.
From the time I was a little girl, I knew I was called to Do Something about this, but somehow the priesthood didn't draw me, or fill me with the same kind of Light as my vision of being a battle priest. Without ever having met a "battle priest", I could see myself as one, wearing plate, aiding the weak and beset, and through the grace of the Light, healing the wounds of the injured and even recalling the prematurely dead back to life. When I slept, when I was supposedly studying for my future career as a priest, when I daydreamed instead of doing my chores with alacrity, I saw myself as a holy warrior.
My mother, who saw clearly that the Light had marked me, encouraged me to embrace the priesthood, and I tried so hard to do so. Still, I continued to sneak around thwacking things. One day, my mother caught me doing so, and could clearly see that I had enough skill with my brother's weapons that this must be a regular event. Now that I am older, I realize that the scene that followed was equally difficult for both of us, but at the time, I was merely concerned with my own unhappiness at her prohibition of any more thwacking.
I ran off into the woods, and sat under a tree, tears running down my face. I could not figure out what to do. I owed my mother my love and respect, and my obedience. But the path of the Priest seemed pale to me, and out of tune with my essential self. At the same time, I knew clearly that I was not called to any path that was not bathed in the Light.
As I pondered what to do next, a shadow moved between me and the sun. I looked up and saw a human priest smiling down at me. She knelt beside me and slowly won my confidence. Within a very short time, she had managed to get me to tell her my small tale of woe. She wiped my tears away and smiled at me, saying, "You must trust the Light, my child. It will never abandon you to the wrong path."
A few weeks later, my mother took me to Ironforge to meet with the priests there. After a conversation with them that seemed to turn my entire being inside out, as they assessed me and my Calling, one of them smiled at me, then turned to my mother.
"This," he said, "is not a child who is called to the priesthood. Yet the mark of the Light is clear upon her being. We wish to send her to Anvilmar to take up arms in the name of the Light and train in the Way of the Paladin." I looked up, and in the back of the room, I saw the priest I had met in the woods that day. Before she turned away, she winked at me.
My mother gasped, horrified. In her mind, paladins are humans, subject to being turned to the Dark, and not at all dwarf-like. Like the rest of my family, my mother is, I'm sorry to say, a bit prejudiced against humans (and other non-Dwarves). However, my family loves me, and they honor the priests in Ironforge who are the ones who sent me for paladin training, so we are all learning to live with it. Like most wandering folks, I see my family rarely, but I am a dwarf, so they remain important to me, as my clan connection to the source of myself, and as individuals that I love very much.
A druid friend recently suggested I travel to the Elf lands to assist in an investigation of what is going wrong in Stonetalon. I'm currently up to my eyeballs in corrupted beasts and harpies of various kinds. With luck, the Light will help me uncover the source of this misery, and eventually the Charred Vale will be returned to its former state. Whenever I am there, whether it's collecting spider eggs for study, or blowing up wagons to slow the encroachments of the Venture Company, I marvel at the fact that I, a dwarf called to serve the Light, am doing so in lands mostly populated by elves, dryads, and tauren.
As I grow stronger in my powers, I can feel that there is something I am being called to do. I trust that the Light will reveal to me what I need to do and where I need to go when the time is right. In the meantime, I devote myself to the service of my order, the protection of those who cannot entirely protect themselves, and now to the Defenders of Valor as well. I hope to live up to the lofty ideals of the Defenders and prove myself a worthy comrade in this company.
Anyway, that's a little about who I am. I love to talk and chatter and generally make a nuisance of myself if you give me an opening, so feel free to do so. Just don't ask me to dance. I am not a good dancer.
Bye now!
-- Malka
P.S. I am an herbalist and an alchemist. I looove plants, especially digging them up and turning them into useful potions and stuff.
Pushing back her chair, Mallka stood and stretched, all her limbs stiff from the unaccustomed sitting still that had been involved in writing down her small story. She sanded the pages she had filled, and carefully folded them and sealed them with purple wax and an impression from her signet ring.
After donning her armor and taking up her hammer again, Malka picked up her letter and walked down the stairs and out of the inn. Making her way to the Cathedral of Light, she entered that building and looked around for an unoccupied youth. Finding one, she said to him, "Child, do you know where the Halls of the Defenders of Valor is?"
"Yes, lady paladin, I do."
"Do you have a free hour to do me a servce?"
"Yes, indeed, I do."
Malka handed the child the letter and a few silver, and asked him to see that the missive was delivered to Lady Polrena as soon as might be. Trusting the Light to see that her letter arrived at its destination, she turned her face towards the tram that would take her back to Ironforge on her way back to the Elf lands.
Well. She had done it. She had earned and then accepted an invitation to join the Defenders of Valor. Pushing her red hair out of her eyes, Malka sighed with the hope that she had done the right thing. In introducing her to the guild, Lady Polrena had said things that brought a blush to her pale skin and fired her with the desire to live up to the promise that the Lady of the House of Virtue seemed to see in her.
Soon, Malka would need to return to Kalimdor to continue her work on behalf of the Night Elves. Before she left, though, she really needed to carry out her promise to Lady Polrena and write down her history so other Defenders would have a chance to know something about who she is. Sighing heavily, she seated herself at the small table in the room, and pulled out a piece of parchment and a pen.
In the course of her training as a paladin, Malka has been taught to write formal letters, such as the one she wrote that had earned her the interview that was now over. Still, this task seemed better suited to a more informal style, one that might let some of her self be more visible, instead of hiding behind the formal phrases and rolling periods of more ornate prose. Sighing again, she started to write in a voice as close to the way she speaks as she could manage . . . . .
I'm Malka. I'm from the dwarven lands, which makes sense when you realize I am a dwarf. Since not all Defenders are dwarves, and may have no patience for the traditional recital of my clan and ancestry before a story, I am dispensing with that portion of this tale.
I like to thwack things until they are no longer a threat to me or the people I love. I want to protect the people around me, and try to bring Light to the world. I'm not much for subtlety, but I am very good at surviving things. Plus, I generally have a good sense of humor about dying when it's my own darned fault, which it usually is. Luckily, the Spirit Healers seem to agree, and have resurrected me many more times than I perhaps deserve.
I am still in training, but I am going to be a Holy paladin. Think of me as a battle priest and you will have the general idea. I want to heal things, hit things, destroy the Scourge, and generally clean the world up. When I place my very self between Darkness and its potential victims, I can feel the Light coursing through me, and I know I am living the life I was meant to live.
When I was a child, I had a clear calling to serve the Light, but an equally clear reluctance to join the priesthood. I was forever "borrowing" my brother's axes and maces, and sneaking out to thwack things, primarily things that were hurting those who could not defend themselves against their incursions. Even in dwarf lands, protected though we were from much of the late fighting, sickness drives beasts to attack defenseless dwarves, and those who are allied with the Dark forces try to hurt the innocent.
From the time I was a little girl, I knew I was called to Do Something about this, but somehow the priesthood didn't draw me, or fill me with the same kind of Light as my vision of being a battle priest. Without ever having met a "battle priest", I could see myself as one, wearing plate, aiding the weak and beset, and through the grace of the Light, healing the wounds of the injured and even recalling the prematurely dead back to life. When I slept, when I was supposedly studying for my future career as a priest, when I daydreamed instead of doing my chores with alacrity, I saw myself as a holy warrior.
My mother, who saw clearly that the Light had marked me, encouraged me to embrace the priesthood, and I tried so hard to do so. Still, I continued to sneak around thwacking things. One day, my mother caught me doing so, and could clearly see that I had enough skill with my brother's weapons that this must be a regular event. Now that I am older, I realize that the scene that followed was equally difficult for both of us, but at the time, I was merely concerned with my own unhappiness at her prohibition of any more thwacking.
I ran off into the woods, and sat under a tree, tears running down my face. I could not figure out what to do. I owed my mother my love and respect, and my obedience. But the path of the Priest seemed pale to me, and out of tune with my essential self. At the same time, I knew clearly that I was not called to any path that was not bathed in the Light.
As I pondered what to do next, a shadow moved between me and the sun. I looked up and saw a human priest smiling down at me. She knelt beside me and slowly won my confidence. Within a very short time, she had managed to get me to tell her my small tale of woe. She wiped my tears away and smiled at me, saying, "You must trust the Light, my child. It will never abandon you to the wrong path."
A few weeks later, my mother took me to Ironforge to meet with the priests there. After a conversation with them that seemed to turn my entire being inside out, as they assessed me and my Calling, one of them smiled at me, then turned to my mother.
"This," he said, "is not a child who is called to the priesthood. Yet the mark of the Light is clear upon her being. We wish to send her to Anvilmar to take up arms in the name of the Light and train in the Way of the Paladin." I looked up, and in the back of the room, I saw the priest I had met in the woods that day. Before she turned away, she winked at me.
My mother gasped, horrified. In her mind, paladins are humans, subject to being turned to the Dark, and not at all dwarf-like. Like the rest of my family, my mother is, I'm sorry to say, a bit prejudiced against humans (and other non-Dwarves). However, my family loves me, and they honor the priests in Ironforge who are the ones who sent me for paladin training, so we are all learning to live with it. Like most wandering folks, I see my family rarely, but I am a dwarf, so they remain important to me, as my clan connection to the source of myself, and as individuals that I love very much.
A druid friend recently suggested I travel to the Elf lands to assist in an investigation of what is going wrong in Stonetalon. I'm currently up to my eyeballs in corrupted beasts and harpies of various kinds. With luck, the Light will help me uncover the source of this misery, and eventually the Charred Vale will be returned to its former state. Whenever I am there, whether it's collecting spider eggs for study, or blowing up wagons to slow the encroachments of the Venture Company, I marvel at the fact that I, a dwarf called to serve the Light, am doing so in lands mostly populated by elves, dryads, and tauren.
As I grow stronger in my powers, I can feel that there is something I am being called to do. I trust that the Light will reveal to me what I need to do and where I need to go when the time is right. In the meantime, I devote myself to the service of my order, the protection of those who cannot entirely protect themselves, and now to the Defenders of Valor as well. I hope to live up to the lofty ideals of the Defenders and prove myself a worthy comrade in this company.
Anyway, that's a little about who I am. I love to talk and chatter and generally make a nuisance of myself if you give me an opening, so feel free to do so. Just don't ask me to dance. I am not a good dancer.
Bye now!
-- Malka
P.S. I am an herbalist and an alchemist. I looove plants, especially digging them up and turning them into useful potions and stuff.
Pushing back her chair, Mallka stood and stretched, all her limbs stiff from the unaccustomed sitting still that had been involved in writing down her small story. She sanded the pages she had filled, and carefully folded them and sealed them with purple wax and an impression from her signet ring.
After donning her armor and taking up her hammer again, Malka picked up her letter and walked down the stairs and out of the inn. Making her way to the Cathedral of Light, she entered that building and looked around for an unoccupied youth. Finding one, she said to him, "Child, do you know where the Halls of the Defenders of Valor is?"
"Yes, lady paladin, I do."
"Do you have a free hour to do me a servce?"
"Yes, indeed, I do."
Malka handed the child the letter and a few silver, and asked him to see that the missive was delivered to Lady Polrena as soon as might be. Trusting the Light to see that her letter arrived at its destination, she turned her face towards the tram that would take her back to Ironforge on her way back to the Elf lands.
