The captain of the guard wanted to know what had led me to House Lok-Ri. The answer is very long indeed, a bit exciting in parts if I may be so bold. The condensed version is that I am chasing my destiny, and I have come to the glorious city of Alu-dar 'Gallinon looking for answers. I carry with me a pair of ceremonial Tlanarion swords with the name Fihnnoch inscribed in both hilts. I am a Twathedilion elf of House Fihnnoch and I come seeking the truth.
I was "asked" to visit the armor shop, with an escort of course, as the captain was called away to deal with an issue of some importance. My armor was in need of repair and I gladly followed this polite order. The city of Alu-dar 'Gallinon was the most opulent city I had ever visited, and the armor shop was no different. I admired the artwork and great tapestries that adorned the walls. The so-called great works of art preserved by mankind paled in comparison to the decor in this simple shop of war. A lesser being would mistake this shop for a stronghold containing priceless works of art and beauty.
"Shopkeep, I have been looking for enchanted plate boots for a long time. This is a fine pair."
"Bah", came the reply, "the demand is too high, and the best enchanters are overworked and in short supply."
My thoughts drifted back to a story told by an enchanter of sorts, a human who had mastered the physical as well as the spiritual. He was a simple shaman. I would come to call him Elder, and he was the leader of a small conclave of refugees that I would soon join.
I remember the story well. It is night. Three elves work their way up a steep pass in the frozen North. One of the elves, a female, is riding upon a beast of burden. But the burden is too great, and the weather too harsh, and the undernourished animal dies on its feet, frozen in place. Such is the brutal nature of this land. The three elves continue up the slope, along the pass. The female struggles along, the males helping the best they can. Braialla seems to smile upon the three this day, even as hope fades in this howling storm. As they round the next bend the path widens and the side of the mountain opens up into seemingly nothingness. They have found the entrance to a vast cavern.
The two carry the female into cave. The one in charge helps the female to be as comfortable as possible, while the second, a small, frail wood elf, does his best to make a fire. But he has served his master too long indoors and a small fire is all he can manage. The elf in charge is very concerned about his mate. The war had taken it's toll on the man; he is withered before his time. She is about to give birth to their child, and he is bitter. He will only grow spiteful with time. She is a noble woman, and near death. Her naturally pale complexion now looks white as the purest snow.
Suddenly the roar of a wild beast, cries of a great bear echo through the cavern. The smaller elf immediately goes to the mother to be, while the aged warrior dons a pair of Tlanarin swords as quickly as his frozen body allows. He has to laugh at the irony - a proud warrior answering the call of battle wielding ceremonial weapons. But this is no ordinary bear, his form fills the opening to the cave. His bright blue piercing eyes sparkle in the background of night. Those eyes fix on the once proud warrior and his weapons feel much too heavy. The nobleman slumps to the ground unconscious.
The warrior wakes some time later. He has been moved deeper into the cave. A huge fire blazes in the center of a large chamber. Shadows of haggard individuals can be seen dancing on the walls a good distance behind the fire. It was hot and he was sweating from the flames intensity. The smaller elf is at his side, comforting him. His wife has died during childbirth, but his son appears to be fine considering the circumstances. The elf is finally beaten; he stands to gaze down on his dead wife. She appears to be at peace, an expression of contentment on her face. Next to her the Elder stands holding his child.
"It was a difficult birth", the human said, his blue eyes blazing in the firelight.
The elf nodded in understanding. "I demand my child, my weapons".
A look of amusement came across the human's face." Forgive me, noble elf, I do not find your plight amusing, though I cannot say it is underserved... what do you intend to do with your toy swords?"
The elf could do little, but answer. "I will take the life of my heir, and then die a warrior." This was the reply. The challenge. The fading warrior knew who, what, he was facing.
"No, it shall not be. There shall be no more death, this night at least"
Thus, I entered the world.
It was not just a vision brought on by the Lok-Ri crest on that fateful day. It was an experience granted by Saedron. I became one with the massive wall of water as it covered the land. And the land shall be reborn, as it had been many times before. The treacherous taint of the All-Father shall be washed away. The fires of the Temple zealots extinguished. Of course I could be interpreting my experience incorrectly; one must be careful when dealing with Saedron. Maybe the massive, angry storm will crush me, us, along with all the lessers? Regardless, I believe this crest to be a symbol of my future, my destiny, my purpose. If House Lok-Ri finds me worthy, I will place my lot with the elven lords of Alu-dar 'Gallinon.