BEGINNINGS
Acanthya was born of a tryst between a wandering elven minstrel named Enarean Starblade and Akesha Vale, a barmaid at the world famous Crossroads Inn & Tavern. For the first thirty years of her life, Acanthya lived a quaint life learning her mother's trade and being taught academics by the Tavern's resident sage Torwyn Meckleskargg. Between her mentor's teachings and the influx of tales told by the myriad array of travelers she encountered, Acanthya was probably one of the most educated barmaids in all the kingdom. This equilibrium would have probably lasted until the day she died thanks to her gentle nature and acceptance of her lot in life. Such was not to be the case, however, as one fateful summer morning would bring a halt to the idyllic existence Acanthya had known.

It was several days before the harvest was to begin and the tavern was filled with workers gearing up for the grueling work to come. It was on a hot, summer morn when the vile forces of Restavonith attacked. The ensuing chaos was horrific as the entire tavern's staff was slaughtered as was its guests. It was one of the first, boldly open moves the Lich would take against the kingdom and it would start a chain of events that would spur Acanthya's fate in an entirely new direction.

The need for fresh berries saved Acanthya that day. She had left as the first light of dawn stained the eastern sky, bucket in hand and a smile on her pretty face. Her carefree demeanor was quickly dashed as she returned to the flaming demesne of what had been her home. Tears had quickly stained her face at the sight of all the burned and twisted bodies. She had found her mother face-down near one of the charred windows.

It was at this point a voice cut through her sorrow. It was soft and kind, yet at the same time as hard as steel. Artiaglith Feylight had been tracking the lich's forces and come across the macabre scene. She found Acanthya standing amidst the ashes, frightened and alone. Her heart reached out to the young half-elf and she quickly took the young girl into her service.

With time, Acanthya found the power she would need to revenge herself against the vile Restavonith. Together, Acanthya and Artiaglith would partner with other brave heroes to do deeds worthy of legend. To this day, bards and minstrels still sing about the glories of The Silver Company. It is rumored that one day, their heroics would be needed again. Should that day come, they would be ready with sword and spell to once more put right that which had gone wrong.

Of course, twenty or so years have passed since the tale ended...or so it would seem...

DIPLOMAT/PROFESSOR


WARRIOR


ACANTHYA'S HOME & SCHOOL


MIST


"Where to begin," Acanthya pondered as she stared intently at the minstrel.

Like most, he was unable to withstand her gaze for long and dropped his head with a telling blush. Smiling slightly, the half-elven woman laid a hand on the young man's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. It was no secret that Acanthya Starblade, one of the legendary heroes of The Battle of Ravenwood and keepers of the Necromancer's Heart, was a beautiful woman. Pictures and stories, however, did the dark-haired half-elf a disservice as her radiant beauty quite nearly left the minstrel speechless.

"Ah, I know the story I shall tell you. It is not one that has ever been told as far as I can recall. In fact, other than myself, Kadrian, and the gods themselves, I don't think a single soul knows this one. Let me set the scene for you. This happened less than a year after the defeat of Dul-Zuir and just before we thwarted the machinations of the Ur-Priests of Thay'ellos and their attempts to steal the gods' very divinity. Alright, here we go."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Kadrian fought to remain conscious against the torrent of power that coursed through his body, he heard Taika’s defiant scream. Lost in that last, fatal surge, the Ancient’s voice faded beyond the threshold of sound. In mere moments, what had been eternal was no more.

Such power, such grandeur was not without its price, however. Tearing through flesh and bone, Oblivion had heeded Kadrian’s whim and now, it returned to that unimaginable place that existed between reality and nothingness. Like a flower exposed to the noonday sun for too long, Kadrian crumpled, his life’s blood quickly staining the Inn’s floor.

The sound of water dancing across stone brought Kadrian back into the realm of consciousness. Glancing around, his eyes drank in the flowing stream and the lush grass that adorned both shores. A symphony of bird song filled the air as a gentle breeze stirred the hem of his cloak. Of a deep, amber hue, it hung lightly about his frame concealing neither armor nor weapons, but simple clothing. Kadrian felt strange, his mind awash with a multitude of memories. Swords and Ancients, Quests and Gods, these were but a few of the images that flashed through his thoughts. His hand reached up to the reassuring presence of his sword, but alas, it too was gone. Shaking his head, Kadrian was on the verge of exploration when a soft, melodious voice rose above both bird and brook.

For some reason the honeyed contralto sounded familiar and when seconds later it was joined by a pair of wavering sopranos, Kadrian’s spirit soared. “It couldn’t be,” he thought to himself. Scrambling across the damp grass and up the steep bank, Kadrian was rewarded with a sight that he had never thought to see again. A beautiful golden-haired woman danced among a field of lilies, her dress as white and pristine as the flowers that seemed to reach out and caress her radiant skin. Beside her were twin angels bedecked in similar gowns, their own golden ringlets held back by garlands of the graceful flowers. Laughing, they seemed not to notice Kadrian as he stood transfixed by their presence.

“Kaella, Ja’ayla, Ja’al,” Kadrian shouted, his voice quavering as tears began to stream down his face. Snapping out of the sudden lethargy that had come over him, Kadrian raced out into that fragrant field.

The happy trio turned at the sound of his voice, their own visages as stunned as his had first been. Looks of glee stole over their faces as they broke into a dead sprint. Shouts of “Kadrian” and “Daddy” echoed loudly in the sun-drenched meadow as they converged upon one another.

With arms wide open, Kaella and Kadrian met in a fierce embrace. Lips locked in an impassioned kiss as if the last three years could be made up in such a primal gesture. Lost in the euphoria of love, Kadrian barely felt his twin daughters’ insistent clutch on his legs. Breaking the kiss with tangible regret, Kadrian reached down and softly stroked his daughters’ silken hair.

“Are you here to stay this time Daddy,” Ja’al asked.

“Yes Daddy, we’ve missed you so much,” Ja’ayla added.

Staring at this family through tear-filled eyes, Kadrian tried to speak, but found that his emotions had robbed him of speech.

“He will stay if he can,” Kaella gently chided the girls. “Now go and play.  Your father and I have much to discuss.” The girls reluctantly released their grasp upon their father and with the innocence of youth scampered off to play amid the delicate lilies.

“Kaella,” Kadrian began, but was cut off by the slender finger of his beloved wife pressing lightly against his lips.

“Shh. You have nothing to explain my love. Only you could have done what was needed.  Our deaths were the catalyst that pushed you to seek the Sword of the Covenant and end the threat of Dul-Zuir. Now, a new threat has risen. The land of Evera once again stands upon the brink of destruction. All that you fought for, all that you sacrificed will be for naught if this encroaching darkness is not quelled.”

Kadrian shook his head vehemently, “I have done enough Kaella. I was forced to watch you and the girls die at the hands of my best friend. I know Eryk did not wield the blade himself, but as I killed those responsible for your deaths I imagined that each time my blade struck flesh, it was the flesh of that traitorous scum. Let the gods stop this threat.”

Kaella smiled sadly as she looked upon her husband. She wanted nothing more than to hold him close and spend the rest of eternity with him in this spiritual paradise. The world was not worth such a price, however. “Kadrian…," Kaella sighed. “Have you noticed that the gods no longer answer the prayers of their faithful? Clerical magic is slowly fading. Something has happened that keeps them from touching the world of the living. Even now, on the brink of death, they are having difficulty sustaining this place.”

Almost as if speaking the words brought it to past, the ephemeral reality of the place shimmered. Images of several people looking down upon him and the feeling of cold, hard wood upon his back inundated his consciousness. The sensation did not last long, but it was enough for Kadrian to realize that he was not dead, but hovering at the point where life usually ended.

“Please Kaella! I can’t bare to lose you a second time.”

“I will always be with you husband, in your heart and in your dreams. When the time comes, we shall again be a family.”

Kadrian dropped weakly to his knees as he felt a glimmer of warmth steal through his body. The apparent solidarity of the meadow faded as a gentle heat spread quickly through him. As his eyes were torn between the world of the living and the world of the dead, he watched his wife and daughters wave goodbye. Mouthing the words I love you as the harshness of the waking world came crashing back down around him, tears mingled with the blood that stained his cheeks.

With his head cradled in Acanthya's arms, Kadrian buried his face in her stomach. Shaking with barely suppressed sobs, Kadrian lamented the loss of his family for the second time in his life. Ghorza’s magic had healed Kadrian’s broken body, but there was no magic to mend that which was truly broken.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Acanthya sat back, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. Reaching out a slender hand she grasped the the goblet of wine that sat on the table before her. With a quick gulp, she downed the fragrant liquid and sighed. Sitting the glass back down, she smiled softly.

"He told me that story on his deathbed. I had sent for the priest, but he pulled me close and whispered that story in my ear. He begged me to not let them save him again, to deny him a chance to be with his first love and daughters."

Standing up and walking over to the inn's window, she glanced out at the hustle and bustle of the common folk going about their tasks. When she turned her attention back to the minstrel, the tears that had threatened to break free cut rivulets down her pale cheeks and dripped heavily to the oaken floor beneath.

"We had been married for almost seventeen years when I had to watch him die. While I'm only a half-elf, that is enough. The curse of my elven father means that I will almost certainly outlive all my friends and acquaintances. Letting him go was the hardest thing I had ever done. My only regret is that I was never able to give him another child..."

Acanthya grew silent and resumed her thoughtful reminiscence as she once more stared out the window. The minstrel, moved beyond words, simply stood and gave the beautiful hero a gracious bow. Not only had she given him the gift of a new story, but had let him glimpse the fact that even heroes were made of flesh and blood.