Of People’s Oaths, Weald & Woe

A Forgotten Realms Setting based fiction.

“House Starym sends their regards, Ravenshadow,” the deep bronze skinned, flame-haired elven lady thrust the blade along the top of her duskwood longbow toward Arilisha.

Dusk descended in the horizon, to cloak the skies following in night’s stars and darkness, the thick trees and canopies surrounding that made the Moonwood seeming deeper from it all. The second daughter to her clan name stepped back in a blur of her displacement enchantment and drew out her curved elven lightblade in a successful parry. As she did this, Arilisha raised her hand and a flare of dusky violet magic missiles ascended from her palm and toward the camouflage leather-clad assassin. 

Many thoughts raced through her mind as her defensive instincts churned through her. House Starym, sending regards to her family? Arilisha did not grow up in the halls of Ravenshadow Fortress, thinking she might one day face an elf trying to kill another elf, a thing many would consider unheard of in their communities. 

Yet Arilisha had to watch her opponent deflect her magic and pirouette away.  “You are trying to kill me, why? What of the Oath of Peace?” 

“Gray elf, your sort have enabled humanity to continue their taking, with their unchecked greed! From us, our dwarf allies, the small folk,” the assassin hissed that deadly insult from a sun elf to a moon elf. “All who need the precious land. To then court dark powers in your halls…” 

Arilisha grimaced. This threw her off guard for a moment. She had no idea what this assassin spoke about. However, she would not let the term indicating her not ‘elf enough’ and ‘the impurities of metal left after perfect gold forge’ escape her retaliation. “Starym you said? How ironic, considering I heard only Josidiah stood to help defend Cormanthyr! Where were House Starym then when the People needed them most!?” the moon elf shot back. “Trying to make up for their own failings?” 

In that moment, the assassin screeched and shot a spell infused arrow and another. 

The moon elven sorceress grimaced and held out a hand in which a translucent orb surrounded her and absorbed the arrows. 

Arilisha spotted hidden along the shawl of her assassin a crest well recognized in the history of her People: that of two descending silver dragons on a maroon field. 

Indeed, she faced a scion of House Starym.

That outburst now made all the sense. 

Seeing the Starym assassin continue to shoot her magic arrows to no avail, Arilisha called out. “Stop this now, and we can talk. Again, what of the Oath of Peace?” 

For that instance, the flame-haired sun elf paused, and tipped her head. She said nothing, but she yielded. 

Arilisha took a long breath in, to exhale out. With that, she nodded and lowered her magic shield. 

At that moment, her opponent sneered. “The Oath of Peace has only led to our Realms’ descent. Elven Faerun is dying, and all you do is breed with the ones killing it!” Hatred burnt in the golden eyes of the assassin.

Before the moon elven sorceress could say more, the Starym scion lifted her bow and raised an arrow inflamed, the center appearing like heated magma. She saw it before. Panic welled in her marrow.

A fireball imbued in an arrow, aimed toward her.

Arilsha leaped to the side to roll out of the way, but left range too late, catching the outer perimeter of the explosion and ascending, to drop on her back. Pain jolted through her and she rolled to her feet. She had no time to ponder why this one felt justified to use such a flammable spell in this case, something that caught onto the trees surrounding them. Her eyes saw smoke, her lungs filled with it. As she raised her blade, she felt a powerful kick to her stomach.

The moon elven sorceress groaned. 

Further kicks fell onto her face. 

She had no time to react to the hand that went for her hair and pulled it most painful, forcing her on her knees despite efforts of her hand to reach and grab at the source, nails digging into flesh. 

As her eyes refocused with all the smoke, she saw the Starym scion level with her eyes. Along her throat bit the end of sharp, tiny metal. Arilisha froze, unable to move without the potential to end her own life to what she surmised a close fighting blade. Eyes narrowed to her foe, remaining defiant even in her last moments. 

“Face the justice of weald and woe,” hissed the gold elf. “Your head will be a perfect offering, blood spilled to cleanse taint amongst kin.” 

Arilisha felt all the memories of her life from birth to this moment race through. This was it, the end of everything. All she wanted, her desires to help her kin thrive in a world increasingly overwhelmed by peoples not her own, she may never see as a possibility. Her eyes retained defiance, but her heart tightened and distended with her distress, the fact someone by the virtue of her family wanted her dead, and even more horrifying: they sent a sun elf of all peoples to do it.

(To be continued…)

Of People’s Oaths, Weald & Woe and the characters within is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. © Wizards of the Coast LLC. Anything within this not created or copyrighted by Wizards of the Coast are creations of Arya H. Mariam. ©2025

Image had been found on the Alpha Coders site and free for personal or private, noncommercial use.