The trip to Shattered Spear territory was becoming quite familiar these days. Ever since the declaration of war, Alister has been doing all he can to help the refugees have a safe place to live while their other loved ones fight for their homeland. Nobody wants to leave their loved ones behind with the thought of losing them. Never seeing them again. Thousands of possible outcomes fill the mind and generally most of them bad.
Sighing as he comes up a hill overlooking Shieldhaven, a sound of merriment floats up the hill towards him.
“The hells is going on down there?” Alister asks himself, “What month is it? What day? Gods is it Market Fair time already?! And the daft fools are having it on the front doorstep to the war?! What are they even thinking?!”
As he hurried down to the town to yell at whomever was in charge, a group of guards passed him bidding good day. Muttering a response in passing, he paid them little mind, barely acknowledging their presence.
Near the gate to the small settlement, he could see banners fluttering in the breeze. Blue and silver streamers decorated the walls. Traders peddling their wears had set up shop. And some boisterous fellow was rushing about announcing feats of skill and strength for people to test themselves at.
Brushing off the man’s attempts to recruit him for a ‘Drunken Mage’ contest… (Alister had spent more than his fair share of nights recently being drunk, trying his best to forget the disaster at the Ulven moot)…
He meandered about the stalls and thought to himself, “Perhaps this is something the people need. A bit of rest and respite from the war. A way to relax…” Quickly shaking his head from the foolish notion, another part of him thought, “How dare these people have this foolish celebrating while their allies are out there fighting desperately to save their homeland. How dare they take advantage of this situation, luring people here to sell goods that would be far more valuable on the front lines. How dare they have these feats of skill wasted here, when there’s far more Grimward and Stonetooth targets that will happily fight back opposed to shooting at some damned tree.”
It was then Alister saw Volrok of the Broken Blade Company leading a small procession out beyond the walls to a secluded grotto in the woods nearby. Alister had heard rumors that Vaels had fallen at the Moot during the retreat, but he had hoped they were just that… Finding out the truth of the matter, of losing a good friend and ally, close to tears. The funeral procession for Vaels was beautiful, the first of such that Alister had ever seen for the Syndar. At the end of the ceremony, many others had left while nearly all Broken Blade members present, stayed behind. Alister walked back with the rest, occasionally looking back at Vaels’ final resting place with a heavy heart.
It wasn’t until he returned to the settlement when he felt something was wrong. His purpose for going back to Shattered Spear to assist refugees was wrong. He shouldn’t be helping people run… He should be fighting along side them on the front lines like Vaels did… Protecting his friends to the very end.