Destiny (NSW D&D fan fic)

[Amidala Skywalker]

This is something that I was suddenly inspired to write. It's currently just a viggie, although it does have the possibility of becoming a full-fledged fan fic if I want to put some work into it.

 

The setting is from Dungeons and Dragons. If you don't know anything about D&D, you just have to know it's a fairly stereotypical fantasy setting. Eladrin are high elves, and elves are regular elves. I think that's all you need to know to understand this.

 

Astarta is a character that I played in a D&D campaign that lasted a few years. This is her backstory.

 

Title: Destiny

Author: Ami

Genre: D&D fantasy setting

Rating: suitable for all audiences

 

 

“Enna, bring up the rest of the rolls when you come up, will you?”

 

There was an acknowledgement from the direction of the cellar, and Astarta turned to help the next customer. The little bakery was bustling this evening, with many elves, humans, and half-elves stopping by to purchase fresh baked goods for their evening meals. The bakery was clean and orderly, and by not charging exorbitant prices, the proprietors had ensured that it continued to do good business even during the economic downturn that the city of Helanin was experiencing.

 

Astarta had worked at the bakery for the past fifteen years. She loved the feel of dough in her hands, the smell of the breads baking throughout the day, and the creativity she got to employ in making and decorating the sweeter fare they sold. It was simple work, but fulfilling.

 

“There you are, sir,” the blonde-haired, violet-eyed eladrin said, handing a tall elven customer a freshly-wrapped loaf of sweetbread.

 

“Thank you,” the customer replied, handing her a few silver pieces in exchange. Astarta quickly deposited them in the money box before turning to the next customer.

 

The rest of the evening passed quickly and unremarkably, and soon enough it was time to close. Enna locked the door behind them, and the two friends made the short trip to the small house they shared together. Astarta had moved in with the raven-haired elf five years ago, and was very glad she had done so. Enna was a dear friend and an excellent roommate, considerate and yet blunt, never afraid to speak her mind and yet always looking out for her friends’ best interests.

 

So when Enna got a determined look on her face after they had finished the soup and bread that constituted their evening meal, Astarta knew that Enna wouldn’t hold back.

 

“Astarta,” Enna began, “what are you still doing working at the bakery?”

 

Astarta sighed. They had discussed this before many times. “Enna, you know I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

 

Enna shook her head. “But you have a gift, and that gift shouldn’t be wasted. You have the potential to be one of the greatest arcane spellcasters of our age.”

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to learn more about magic,” Astarta countered. “I’ve told you how much I enjoyed learning what I could as a child back home in Elanayn. But you also know why I left that life behind me.”

 

“And I still say that’s not a good excuse,” Enna disagreed. “So what if you were cursed at birth?”

 

“Curses are powerful things. Clearly the eladrin wizards’ court believed that. They turned me away from training because of it.”

 

“You could learn magic through other means.”

 

Astarta shook her head. “There are no wizards powerful enough to want an apprentice here in Helanin, and I don’t have the coin to travel halfway around the world looking for one.”

 

“Your father would teach you, I’m sure of it.”

 

The eladrin considered. “He might,” she finally said. “He never held any store by my curse. He was furious when the court announced they wouldn’t teach me. But, Enna, what if the curse is real? I still don’t know how I am cursed. What if by learning magic, I’ll be taking steps down the path to fulfilling it? If I’m doomed to become a scourge, a monster, then I don’t want to take that chance.”

 

Enna saw that Astarta was earnest. “My dear friend,” she said, placing a hand on the high elf’s shoulder, “you are a good person, devoted to Pelor’s ideals of goodness and justice. I do not believe that you will turn into someone who works for evil. You cannot let the fear of what may be hold you back from your destiny.”

 

Astarta shook her head. “My destiny,” she repeated. “How do any of us know what our destiny is?”

 

“You are who you are for a reason,” Enna replied. “I know there is more to your story than living out your long years as a baker. But you need to ask yourself if you have the courage to explore who you may become.”

 

Astarta thought about that conversation through the long hours of the night. What Enna said made sense, but could she really risk it? True, she had a gentle, determined, and protective personality, but would that be enough to keep her from darkness if there was any reality to the curse supposedly placed on her?

 

At the same time, she felt magic calling to her. She yearned to explore its mysteries, to study its lore and learn what she could about its nature. She had always been haunted by the idea that magic was not as incongruent as many in the world believed, but that there was a thread that connected its apparently disparate magical functions. More than anything, she wanted to explore that idea, to do research and learn to wield the gift she had been given.

 

With a start, she realized she had been lying to Enna and herself. She wasn’t truly happy with her life. She knew she was meant for something more. And with that realization, she knew she would never look at her life the same way again. She would never be content in her life as a baker with this knowledge hanging over her.

 

Enna’s right, she thought. I can’t ignore this any longer.

 

***

 

Two weeks later, after a tearful goodbye, she left Helanin and returned to the city where she had been born. Elanayn was a city with strong ties to the Feywild; so much so that it regularly shifted back and forth between the Feywild and the material world, spending twelve hours a day in each. It was an ancient eladrin city, made mostly of white stone, founded many ages ago by the particularly powerful archmage for whom the city was named.

 

Astarta didn’t waste time, but strode quickly through the arch-lined halls and spired towers. Her family was a highly respected one in Elanayn, and she had grown up in wealth and luxury. Her feet soon carried her to her family’s estate. She was welcomed back with much joy and quickly got resettled in as a member of the household.

 

But she was determined to take Enna’s advice, and that very evening, sought out her father. Soveliss was a wizard of some renown, and he was generous in sharing his knowledge with others. But despite the fact that he had raised her with love and care, he was a rather intimidating man, and it took all of Astarta’s courage to ask for a meeting with him.

 

His clerk announced her, and she strode into the private tower that he used for his studies. Soveliss greeted her affectionately. “What brings you here, my daughter?”

 

“My father, I have come to ask a boon,” she replied. “I would like to train under you as an apprentice of the art of magic.”

 

There was a silence that Astarta quickly hurried to fill. “I know the wizards’ council has forbidden it, but I believe that is unfair. In these fifteen years since their decision, I have watched myself carefully. I do not believe that the curse I was placed under is real.” Her words were a touch more decisive than her actual thoughts on the matter, but she wanted to present her case strongly. “Please, teach me to use my magical gifts.”

 

Soveliss paused for one more moment, then smiled gently. “Very well, I will teach you, my daughter.”

 

Astarta relaxed for the first time since entering the tower and allowed a smile to creep onto her face.

 

“It will not be an easy path,” Soveliss warned. “You will work harder than you ever have in your life.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

“Very well.” The elder eladrin placed a hand on her shoulder. “We will start you off by studying magical theory and history.”

 

***

 

The next five years passed swiftly. Astarta studied and learned at a rate that astonished her father. The knowledge came easily to her, and she knew that Enna had been right in that her destiny was clearly tied to her studies. They were happy years for Astarta. She was surrounded by her peers and held herself to high standards. Soveliss had yet to teach her any practical uses of magic, for he believed in a strong foundation of knowledge before beginning to work spells, and that was the only frustrating aspect of the process for Astarta. She couldn’t help but want to begin learning actual spells, but she forced herself to be patient, knowing that she would be grateful for the background in the future.

 

Her relationship with her father grew closer and closer as the years passed. She came to realize that the reason she had always felt him to be intimidating as a child was because he radiated a powerful magical aura. The realization eased any remaining tension she felt with him, and where she used to feel nervous fear she now felt respect and admiration.

 

One morning, she woke earlier than usual. The city was currently in the Feywild, and she could hear the unique cries of the nocturnal fey creatures that inhabited its many forests. For a moment, she lay there, wondering what had awoken her. She tried for several minutes to fall back asleep, but something was bothering her. She frowned and got up to stand by the window. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she couldn’t resist the feeling that something was wrong.

 

After a moment, she gave up and began to dress. Pulling on a silver robe over a black shirt and pants, she bound her golden hair back with an emerald circlet and headed out of the room. Her senses were tingling, and she found herself heading towards her father’s tower. The nearer she drew, the more wrong everything felt, and when she finally arrived, she was on edge.

 

There was no clerk at the desk, so she pushed her way into the main circular room. The sight that met her eyes was one she would never forget.

 

A dark elf stood in the center of the room, a sword dancing with crackling lightning raised high in his hands. Opposing him was her father, ringed in the runes of a protective ward. When Soveliss saw her, he cried out a warning. That moment of distraction cost him, however, as the drow took that opportunity to bring the crackling sword down upon him. It clashed against an invisible shield, sending shards of magical energy scattering around the room.

 

Soveliss cried out again as the shield flickered and dissipated. He quickly retaliated with a cone of fire. The drow was clearly singed, but didn’t seem hurt as badly as Astarta expected him to be. She looked around desperately for something to use as a weapon; she had to help her father.

 

She managed to grab a nearby vase and throw it at the drow, but her flimsy attack had little success as the drow displayed amazing reflexes by batting the vase aside with his large sword. She wished desperately that she had learned some spells, for she was essentially useless in this fight.

 

The drow had turned his focus back on Soveliss, who had conjured a mass of writhing green worms over the dark elf’s head. The drow staggered and slipped on one of the worms, and Soveliss leapt at his chance. He blasted several arcs of purple energy out of the palms of his hands, but once again, the drow managed to evade them.

 

Then, as Astarta watched helplessly, the drow managed to overcome her father’s defenses. With one mighty blow, he opened Soveliss up from right shoulder to navel. Soveliss crumpled without a word, and the drow turned his evil yellow gaze on Astarta.

 

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Her father couldn’t be dead. No one could defeat him; he was one of the most powerful wizards the city had ever produced. But the cold hard facts were there before her. Fierce anger rushed through her with a power like she had never felt before. She cried out in anguish, and her natural magical talent harnessed that shout and turned it into a massive sonic blast. She came at the drow, determined to hurt him in any way possible.

 

But the drow simply smirked at her. She was unarmed and defenseless, and he slashed jaggedly at her thigh. Blinding pain raced up and down her leg, and she fell as it would no longer support her weight. She waited there, crumpled in a heap beside her father’s body, for the final blow that would end her life. But the blow never came. Instead, the drow smiled and sheathed his bloody weapon. Then, laying a finger to his lips, he disappeared into thin air, using magic to teleport himself out of an area that should have been warded against teleportation.

 

But Astarta didn’t think about the impossibility of the drow’s tricks. Utterly drained and wounded, she cradled her father’s head in her lap and cried.

 

***

 

Astarta spent the next three weeks in the houses of healing. While spells easily healed her wound, she was left with a ropy scar stretching from her right thigh to her knee. But the real reason she had stayed so long there was the fact that she didn’t think she could face her family again. She had failed her father, and even though she had done everything she could to stop the assassin, she viewed it as a personal failure. As she lay in bed, hearing the sounds of the city singing the traditional songs of mourning and farewell, she made a vow. I will not fail again, she promised herself. I will study even harder, and I will learn to be an extremely powerful wizard. And then I will track that drow down and kill him for what he did to father.

 

She left in the middle of the night. She took nothing with her except for the essentials and a small collection of her father’s spellbooks. Slipping past the guards, she made her way out of the city. It wasn’t until she was a good distance away that she turned back. I will return one day, she promised herself. She watched until the city flickered and disappeared into the Feywild, then resolutely turned her face away.

 

Her destiny began now.

[Obi-quiet]

Well, that's ominous. I like the idea (although you may want to put at the top that drows are dark elves for those who may not know) and think it is interesting.

 

However, a lot of time is skipped throughout the entire post, and that makes it feel like more of a back-ground than a beginning to a story. Truthfully, I would recommend starting the story after all of this happens, maybe even when she's leaving, or if/when she meets someone on the road (I'm assuming she will because this is based off of D&D). It's a great background though. Presents a nice conflict that is interesting and easy to relate to.

[DarthBrendo]

It's very interesting but it feels more like an expanded back cover then a vignette to be honest. I certainly enjoyed reading it, and I'm curious as to what comes after, and indeed, before (in regards to this curse), but it doesn't feel like a standalone piece.

[jedi_master_gimpy]

I like the fact that you put this much thought into the background of your D&D character, Hallie! Granted, I've never played D&D myself so maybe there is usually this much of a story behind each character to be put in a bio or something... but in that case I would still give you props for going back and developing it here.

 

I didn't have quite the same problems reading this as some of the others did. I guess it's more of what I expected to read after your description:

Astarta is a character that I played in a D&D campaign that lasted a few years. This is her back story

With that description I was expecting this kind of back story feel (although perhaps not the length of time it would encompass in her life) where the climax of this story is really the turning point to set her on the bigger quest, rather than the majority of the story focusing on the quest with the climax the accomplishment of that quest. I thought you did a good job of slowly awakening Astarta to her desire to understand magic and then leaving her on the road with personal and magical lessons to learn and an inability to return until she's resolved some things.

 

Honestly, unless you're prepared to turn this into a very long fic in order to take on the full quest, I think the events within this story stand very solidly on their own - you don't need to tell the rest of the story to make us feel like we peered in on some important moments of Astarta's life. I would encourage you, whether for the sake of your interest in her story or just to push your writing this, to consider moving this into a shorty story form. I really think that it would be the best format for it, as it would allow you to get a full story feel rather than a "background" feel and you could still end it at the same place (in fact, I think you should still end it in the same place, but I think it would allow it to stand better on its own without necessarily needing an explanation of its time or setting to make sense. Granted, in a slightly longer format you would still need to give clues in the beginning that the reader should not expect to hear about a big quest, but rather that the promise to come is whether and how Astarta will pursue her dreams of learning magic.

 

The biggest critique I would have for you, which I think ties in part to OBQ and Brendo's comment as well as my recommendation for a short story form, is that most of the story is exposition with a few real bits of dialogue and scene inserted. One of the number one rules for writers, of course, is to show instead of tell wherever possible without dragging scenes out unnecessarily. I think you could take these same things you have described but instead of using exposition, make a number of scenes that touch on different points - Astarta at the bakery and talking to Enna, Astarta in an actual lesson with her father, a scene that shows his power and importance and thus hints at why this attack might have come, etc but are told as action instead of description. You can still add in the small details along the side that tell of us passing time or transitions, but it gives this story an active feel. You have a solid and well-thought out plot here that I think is worth the re-write and would make a great short-story, and I know you have the skills to pull it off. Just my $0.02.

 

Outside of that, I didn't really notice any grammatical problems although there were a slight changes in word choice I would have recommended to make things more clear. If you're interested I'll go back through and find them, otherwise I'll keep mum since [hinthint] should you decide to move to short story they would be reworked anyway! [/hinthint]

 

The only other critique I have that is more detailed is the rather one-sided fight between her and the drow. I think that part was quite as smooth as the rest in describing it and getting the pacing right. Also, it seemed a little strange that the drow did not kill her when it would have been so easy, and yet did take the time to personally wound her when he probably could have gotten away easily without touching her, or simply pushing her into the wall or something. I'm going to guess that the "ropy scar" is one of her identifying marks, however, and helps to physically mark the driving purpose of her quest. I think if you played up the sadistic side of the drow - to cause more pain simply because he could - a little more it would help this flow better?

 

Anyway, I'm glad you wrote this and glad I read it. Even without knowing D&D, it was easy to follow and I enjoyed the story. Thanks for sharing!

[Amidala Skywalker]

Wow, thanks for the epic long review, Gimpy! That's very sweet of you to take the time to write all that up!

 

Especially considering I had already forgotten I had written this.

[jedi_master_gimpy]

You posted that within the last month, Ami! You forgot it already?

 

Well, it's a sign of how ridiculous tricky it's been to catch up in the midst of being busy - despite the fact that this was a one-off, it took me two separate readings to finish this and a third to write a response.... so it left me plenty of time to think about what I thought of the story!