Glory of Wantilan p8
by, 04-05-2011 at 04:32 PM (643 Views)
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“What a woman cleric? But women can’t have power that great!” cried Riesus, a male taught the way of his people and just as arrogant.
“Why? Other women in the world have power why can’t it change here to!” retorted Carana. “In Lord Remnit’s realm all people are created equal, whether they are dwarf, elf, or even a woman. The Gods children are meant to equal. We all watch the same moons in the sky. Besides it really doesn’t matter now I am moving on! I’m done with this sexist town and everyone in it including you guys and my parents!” With that she stammered off from her four friends, all males as her women friends were already married and doing house work.
When she reached home she burst through the door, water dripping from every part of her body. Her eyes soaked with tears and her face flushed from the cold winds that bite her face as she ran home. She hesitated at the door for a second to catch her breath, taking only light breaths after a second or two despite the speed in which she ran. With fire in her eyes burning away her tears she walked calmly into her room. After a few minutes she burst back out of the room fully clothed and chalk full of provisions. Then her father confronted her. He got right in her face attempting to intimidate her yet she shoved him aside and walked toward the door. He reached out with his strong arm and spun her around. He quickly embraced her, wrapping his two strong arms around her.
In her ear he whispered “The truth is I couldn’t be prouder of you. Be careful and return someday please! Also send word every now and again.” Next her mother gave her a huge hug and told her the same. They loaded her up with all she needed to survive and gave her gold to use in the towns ahead.
“Listen to me”, her father said, “I want to give you this.” he handed her a staff. The staff was beautifully crafted with an angel at the end. Its two wings curved up and meeting at a point an inch or two above the angels head. The wings were razor sharp and the angel held a white gem in its hand poised in front of her stomach.
“It is the symbol of Dyvinia, one of her angels, like you. This staff was your great grandmothers and it was only time before you got the call. As you know I have no sisters and the staff is to be handed down to the women of the family, a long tradition that was thought to be broken. But it apparently just skipped a generation. Good luck and gods speed!” with that he began to cry and watched his daughter walk toward the door hopefully to return someday.
As she reached the door she turned to say one more good-bye to her father and mother. Now tears of anger were replaced with tears of joy and fear. Her vision was blurred with confusion and insecurity but with one look at the staff she knew that she had to go. She turned her head and walked out choosing a path. She walked through the muddy and puddle full path not knowing were it lead and not caring. Her father ran to the doorway to see his pride and joy stride off. For the first time he really saw her, she was of average height with long blonde hair just about to turn seventeen and already a woman. Her body was that amongst the finest of the women he had ever seen yet her grace and beauty hid the fire that made her a deadly force. Combined with her clerical gift she would become a true hero and he knew it.
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