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ooc: I have no problem with Dankorona either. In fact, I'd be willing to help in any funny business. Just let me know what you have planned, and I'll go along with it as best as I can.
Syrathic climbed some of the nearby rocks, taking this moment to look back at the land he had came from. He knew he might not see the surface again, and he wanted to at least take a memory with him to his grave.
He began to wander a little ways, keeping himself well within Human eyesight of the camp. His Elven footsteps left no trace of his passage and his soft footfalls made no sound as he walked. He longed for days gone past, where he walked among the greenest grass and in the branches of the highest trees. He would even settle for the most recent past, when he lived among the human rangers, whose appreciation of nature was much like his own.
The elf finally settled on a rock high above the camp, and he sat down there, taking in the stars. They were covered by the clouds above him, but in the distant night sky, he could see them. Many nights they were his only campanions, their light the only joy he had. The starlight had protected him once, on a day not so long ago in Elven reckoning. "And to think that I'm but a child still in the eyes of my people," he thought. "But I have had to grow up quickly, or else, how could I have survived my journeys?"
He began to sing softly, singing a verse that formed in his heart. It was in the Common tongue, not in the Elven, inspired by his time with the Human rangers. It was comforting to him, but who knew what anyone else would think?
"To the Night Sky, a dear mother, a dear friend
I know not where I may travel, nor to what end
But I hope that you see, and your love send
I seek guidance, and your strength to lend
I pray my heart and your light together blend
And the hurts that I have taken shall one day mend
For you alone know why my heart is now rend
And you alone shall ever to my plight tend..."
He continued on with the melody, using a wordless verse. He smiled and felt better, the worry of the impending trek into the darkness lessened. His gaze became more alert, and he almost wished for a bow in case enemies appeared. Not that it would do him any good. As the rangers were fond to say of him, "He would shoot you in the foot if given a bow," the reason being that he was good enough to avoid shooting himself in the foot, but everyone else's was fair game. That's why he had taken up the use of throwing knives. But he was currently out, having used the last of them trekking to the treehouse which had started this whole grand adventure. "I'll find more," he thought as he smiled, and continued with his soft singing.
ooc: Sorry about this being so long. I had a bit of inspiration from my muse. Hope no one minds.
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