~… This is just a moment in time
A blink of an eye…~
 

To an Elf, time is relative, for those of elven blood live for an eternity. Granted, they fall in battle and die unnatural causes, but that is the way of things and the way that things should be kept. Since those that are of Elvin blood keep no logs, nor do they keep very good track of records and go by merely memory, I cannot gauge how long ago these events took place. Just know that the events that I am about to describe to you were told to me long ago and take place during the Age of Strife. When the oceans swallowed entire islands and the world, as we know it now existed in another form completely. This was the time when the Undead Horde were under the command of the vile god Innoruuk and his lust for domination drove them across the heart of Antonica, across the vast Ocean of Tears, and to the fair land of Faydwer. It is during this time that the burning of Kelethin took place. When the woods burned fiercer than any fire before it. During the immolation of Kelethin the Undead  Horde continued the slaughter of the land and proceeded to the beautiful city of Felwithe. The dwellers of this  city, the High Elves, thought themselves above all others and shunned the outside world from their towering walls but the Undead Horde grew in power with each passing day. It was during this era that Felwithe fell and the earth cried for its loss….
 
 

~… In depth, grasp the chains
Struggle as the waters gain
But all I need is a simple reminder…~

All things of great power require great resources. To think that a god can exist on this plane and survive is the thought of fools. Innoruuk himself did not exist on this world at this time, but his presence was strong. In order to keep this presence on this world Innoruuk required a living sacrifice… but I get ahead of myself here… As history tells us Felwithe fell in 3 weeks time. The once pale marble city was reduced to a smoldering city of debris. The Undead Horde systematically exterminated the inhabitants of Felwithe and it appeared that Innoruuks reign would continue. The powers that be seemed to be helpless to stop the horde as it continued its domination of those that opposed it. And the world wept as Innoruuk seemed to put a stranglehold on Norrath… As of this writing I am the only one that knows the following events so I urge you to listen closely. It was during the Tenth Year of the Darkness that these events take place. As on the eve of the 10th Year of the Coming of the Dark Lord, a sacrifice was to take place. This sacrifice had to be carefully planned out and carried out to the exact specification. What was required was for a newborn babe to be drained of her blood and the moment of death to arrive at the exact time that the moon was darkened out completely. If this were not carried out, Innoruuk would be banished from this world until he could discover some other means to corrupt this world from his Plane of Hate. All Elves were not destroyed as what was once believed. The Horde had kept a few for breeding purposes for food and entertainment. The once noble High Elves had been reduced to less than dogs. A child was born on this day and it was promptly husked away by the vile horde to be the child of sacrifice on the evening that approaches. Within the Temple of Tunare the Undead had gathered to begin the bloodletting of the
child. Bowls were placed underneath the childs arms that were strapped to a board. The knife blades bit deep as the child’s blood drained from her body to pour into the bowls. In another hour the moment of death would arrive, the moon would darken, and Innoruuks reign would last another decade. It is here that history tends to know neither what was right nor what is just heresy but know that something indeed happened this eve. As of this telling, his name is not known, just know that he was a brave Paladin of Tunare and his heart would be the flame that burned away the darkness. To think that one Paladin could take the Undead that presided over the ceremony is folly. Oh yes, he fought bravely and with courage that would rival the tiger but he was brought to his knees over time and beaten to within an inch of his life. Without even the strength to stand up and heal himself he was forced to watch as the childs life slowly drained away into the bowls at her wrists. The moment arrived and the moon became dark, it’s florescent glow becoming dimmer as the shadow of Norrath proceeded to swallow it whole. The Undead stood in awe as the being of Innoruuk himself took form at the alter, to feast on the dead childs corpse and to drink it’s blood that had now ceased to drain. Summoning his last bit of strength and praying to the mother Tunare the Paladin, on hands and knees, stretched out, his fingers clawing for the childs hand that lay just beyond his reach…. There are some that could claim that the scream that they heard was that of pure hatred, of pure evil. When the Paladin touched the babes hand something happened though, suddenly it was as if the babe had never been hurt. In that moment Innoruuk and his minions were reduced to ash and an eerie silence fell across the land. In the gloomy dark of the Faydark a gentle rain began to fall and the seeds of those trees long since burned down began to grow and take form. The rocks of the Butcherblock Mountains lost their blackened hue and started to
turn a brilliant red. In the Ocean of Tears the waters receded and whole islands began to appear. And somewhere, far off, a Knight breathed his last breath. And a child began to cry…
 
 
 

~These hands are your Angels
Touch the skies…~

Often depicted in paintings and drawings of Tunare there is a spirit hidden in the canvas. It’s not always visible, but you can feel it there, almost as if it knows your searching for it but just refusing to come out entirely. The Knight that gave his life so that the child may live and end the reign of Innoruuk would be forever remembered in hidden thoughts and fleeting glances at these pictures.

As for what happened to this child, no one knows. It is said that one of the Elven slaves heard the crying child and took her in. Others say the Statue of Tunare, that watched the ordeal came to life and took the child as her own. As for what I believe, it matters not.
 

The morning air was crisp and the bite of winter stung in her lungs. Galilee slowly entered the Temple of Tunare and approached the Knight that stood at the dais. Unclenching a parchment, long stained with the blood of who held it before her, read it one last time. She had been carrying this parchment with her for as long as she can remember. She knew not where its words came from, just that her fate rested with the man that stood before her. With a tentative hand she pressed the old message into the old mans hand. For some reason the man seemed to understand why it was that Galilee had come to him. With a tear in his eye he gave Galilee the tunic that would proclaim her a trainee in the Knights of Tunare. With a new Short Sword in hand Galilee bowed before the man that she had come to see and headed out to meet her destiny. With a clenched fist she looked to the heavens and punched a hole in the sky.

Lord Tynkale stared at the letter that rested in his open hand. Weaving his way through the secret corridors that twisted beneath Felwithe he slowly emerged into the temple that had remained buried since the Age of Strife and the Dark Years of Innoruuks Reign. A tear formed in the old mans eye and he advanced slowly towards the statue of Tunare that has been guarding this temple for over a millennium. Again Tynkale pulled out the note and read it once again. Falling to his knees, Lord Tynkale could do naught but cry and mourn the sacrifice that his son had made…

~end…