Keila of the Cir'thowe: Guardian of the Wild

[Azure Dragon]

​

​

Keila of the Cirthrowe: Guardian of the Wild​

​

Origins and Family​

Keila was born into the Cir'thowe tribe, a wild elven community known for its fierce independence and deep connection to the forests of the Western Wealdath. Her early years were filled with the teachings of her elders, who imparted the ancient ways of the wild elves: how to move silently through the trees, how to read the signs of nature, and how to use the bow to protect their homeland. Keila's parents were esteemed hunters, and her family was well-respected within the tribe for their skills and knowledge.

The Tragedy​

While Keila was still a child, the malevolent force that haunted the Cir'thowe struck with brutal efficiency. Her father, a seasoned warrior, and her mother, a skilled herbalist, were among the first victims. The forest that once felt like a safe haven became a place of dread. The gruesome remnants of her loved ones left Keila traumatized but also fueled her resolve to understand and combat the evil that had torn her family apart.

Integration with the Eneyri​

After the Eneyri tribe discovered the decimated remnants of the Cir'thowe, they took the surviving wild elves into their fold. Keila, alongside other young members of her tribe, was sheltered and nurtured by the Eneyri. This period was one of adaptation and learning. The Eneyri, with their more relaxed and affable nature, provided a stark contrast to the hardened and wary wild elves. Over time, Keila began to integrate with them, learning their ways and forming bonds that would become the foundation of her new life.

Becoming an Archer​

Keila's choice to become an archer was driven by a deep-seated desire to protect her people and her forest home from any future threats. She dedicated herself to mastering the bow, seeing it as both a tool of survival and a means to honor her parents' legacy. Her mentors, both from the Cir'thowe and Eneyri, recognized her natural talent and unwavering determination, guiding her to hone her skills to near-perfection.

The Loss and Vow​

The mysterious disappearances continued to plague the Eneyri, echoing the fate of the Cir'thowe. When one of her closest friends, an Eneyri elf who had shown her great kindness, became one of the lost, Keila was filled with renewed sorrow and rage. This loss solidified her resolve: she vowed to dedicate her life to the protection of her kin and the sanctity of their forest home. She swore an oath to the Seldarine, pledging her bow to the defense of her people and the eradication of the malevolent forces lurking in the woods.

The Present​

Now, as her training is complete, Keila takes her first steps among the guardians of Y'Tellarien. Her reputation for vigilance and skill has earned her the respect of both the Eneyri and the wild elves. Despite her standoffish nature towards outsiders, she has forged strong bonds within her community. Keila works closely with the druids, valuing their knowledge and shared commitment to the wilderness.

Her journey has made her a symbol of resilience and dedication among her people. As the worry grows that the land is once again unsettled, Keila prepares herself for the challenges ahead, ready to defend her home and ensure the safety of the elves of Y'tellarien.

Keila’s Personal Charter of Dedication:

• Guardianship of the Forest: Keila will protect the forest with her life, ensuring its sanctity and safety from any malevolent forces.
• Preservation of Heritage: She will uphold the traditions and teachings of both the Cir'thowe and Eneyri, honoring her ancestors and their ways.
• Unity of the Elves: Keila will work towards maintaining the unity and strength of the elven community, supporting her kin and standing against any threats.
• Respect for the Seldarine: Her actions will always seek to honor the Seldarine, especially Corellon, Rillifane, and Sehanine, seeking their guidance and blessings in her endeavors.
• Alliance with the Druids: She will continue to foster the alliance with the druidic circle, valuing their shared commitment to the balance and health of the natural world.

 

[Azure Dragon]

A Day in the Wilderness​

The dawn broke over the treetops, casting dappled light through the dense canopy of the Unspoiled Woods. Keila rose with the sun, feeling the familiar call of the forest beckoning her. She packed her quiver with arrows, slung her bow over her shoulder, and set off into the wilderness surrounding Y'Tellarien. Today, her heart sought a simple adventure, a chance to stretch her legs and breathe the crisp morning air.

As she moved through the forest, Keila marveled at the harmony of nature. The rustling leaves whispered secrets to her, and the chirping birds sang melodies that eased her mind. She followed a narrow trail that led her deeper into the woods, a path she had often walked but never fully explored.

After an hour of peaceful trekking, Keila came across a small clearing, where a stream trickled over moss-covered rocks. She knelt beside the water to drink, relishing the cool, refreshing taste. Suddenly, a noise caught her attention. She froze, her keen elven senses picking up the rustling of bushes nearby. She reached for her bow, her fingers deftly nocking an arrow as she scanned the area.

Emerging from the underbrush were three goblins, their beady eyes fixed on Keila with a mixture of curiosity and malice. These minor foes were no match for an elven archer, but Keila knew better than to underestimate them. She drew her bowstring back, her aim steady and true.

"Leave now, or face my arrows," she called out, her voice firm and unwavering.

The goblins hesitated, but their greed and mischief overpowered their caution. They charged at her, crude weapons raised. Keila released her arrow, striking the lead goblin in the shoulder and causing it to stumble back with a yelp. She quickly fired two more arrows, each one finding its mark and wounding the other goblins.

The goblins, now realizing they had bitten off more than they could chew, turned tail and fled into the forest, leaving a trail of blood and curses in their wake. Keila watched them go, satisfied that she had driven them off without unnecessary bloodshed. She lowered her bow and took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline ebb away.

With the immediate danger passed, Keila resumed her journey. She wandered further into the woods, eventually finding a quiet glade where wildflowers bloomed in a riot of colors. She sat on a fallen log, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty and tranquility around her.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Keila decided it was time to return to Y'Tellarien. She made her way back, the forest paths familiar and welcoming. When she reached the edge of her home, she felt a sense of accomplishment. The adventure, though minor, had refreshed her spirit and reminded her of the importance of vigilance and harmony with nature.

Back in Y'Tellarien, Keila shared her tale with her kin, emphasizing the need to remain alert and protect their forest home from any who might threaten it. The encounter with the goblins was a small reminder of the perils that lay beyond, but it also reinforced her belief in the strength and resilience of her people.

 

[Azure Dragon]

Journal Entry: A Reminder Carved in Arrows

The day began as any other. I set out into the western glades with a pair of our scouts, our purpose to track game and assess the signs of autumn’s shift in the forest. For hours, we saw no one, only the quiet presence of the trees around us and the light rustling of animals as they prepared for the coming winter. Yet, as we moved deeper into the woods, a faint scent lingered in the air—smoke, wood and pitch. It came not from a campfire or a distant village, but from within our own forest.

We came upon a small group of humans with axes and carts, hacking at young trees they had already cut and loading them for transport. There were five in all, dressed in the colors of Murann, a nearby human settlement that has long regarded the Wealdath as theirs for the taking. It is rare to see them this deep within our lands, for our patrols have been vigilant. Yet, here they were, desecrating the saplings as if they were weeds and nothing more.

With my scouts at my side, I called out to them, intent to turn them back with words alone. I tried to explain that they had strayed too far, that they had reached the Wealdath’s sacred heart, and no further steps would be permitted. I spoke to them of our people, of the sanctity of these lands, and I asked that they leave in peace, to not provoke what neither side wished to come to pass.

Yet they laughed, mocking our language, our grace, and the very notion that these woods were anything but “resources” for the taking. They made it clear they did not care for the spirit of the forest, only the timber they could take to stoke their fires and build their walls. One of them, bolder than the rest, went so far as to raise his axe to a young birch before us as if to prove his power over what he could destroy. In that moment, I felt Rillifane’s voice within me, fierce and unyielding, urging me to act.

With a silent signal to my kin, we took up our bows. Arrows flew swift and true, biting into the earth at their feet, grazing arms and shoulders to make clear we were serious. Panic quickly took them; their laughter turned to curses and then to cries of alarm as they dropped their axes and stumbled back through the trees, some running so fast they left their precious carts and tools behind.

In the chaos, one turned and swung at us, his blade flashing in the low autumn light. A scout drew back his bow and loosed an arrow—a shot meant to wound, yet the man fell harder than we intended, collapsing to the ground as his companions ran on without him. His breathing was heavy, yet he lived, staring up at us with fear and anger both. “This was needless,” I said to him as he clutched his bleeding arm, yet I know that fear may teach him a lesson that reason alone cannot.

Death was never our intent; a mere show of force would have sufficed. But I know that for some, words alone are but empty sounds. For those like him, it is the sting of the arrow, the sight of blood drawn in defense of these woods, that may stay their hands in the future. His pain is perhaps the only language he may understand.

As they fled, I felt the sadness settle in, a reminder that our struggle is far from over. These humans are short-lived and reckless, oblivious to the wounds they leave in their wake. They do not feel the heartbeat of these woods as we do; to them, our ancient trees are nothing but lumber waiting to be felled, our sacred groves mere obstacles to profit. Their laughter, the mockery in their voices—it still rings in my ears, a reminder of the divide that separates us, a chasm they neither see nor care to bridge.

I returned to Y’Tellarien with a heavy heart. I knew that I had done what was right, that my actions were guided by my oath to protect our lands and honor the Seldarine. But how many more will we need to turn back? How many more will trample our sacred grounds, heedless and blind to the life that surrounds them?

Perhaps in their ignorance, they will remember the fear we stirred in them today. Perhaps, when next they think to lay an axe to our trees, they will hesitate. Death was not our purpose today, but for some, the threat of it is the only way to plant wisdom in stubborn hearts. In truth, I have little hope that we will ever see true respect from them, only begrudging wariness.

Yet I will remain vigilant. I will guard these lands as our ancestors did, and as my kin do now. I am but one of the People, but I am steadfast. The forest stands as it always has, and for as long as I draw breath, I will see it remain whole. If that means becoming the shadow in their path, the whisper in the trees that sends shivers down their spines, then so be it.

Keila of the Cirthrowe

​

 

[Azure Dragon]

Lessons in the Deepwood

The forest was hushed beneath the morning mist, its breath cool against my skin. I moved through the undergrowth in near silence, bow in hand, eyes scanning the trails for fresh tracks. A fine stag had passed this way not long ago—its prints still firm in the damp earth. A good kill, should I take it, would feed many.

I had gone further than usual, drawn by the hunt, but I did not worry. This land was my home, and I knew its whispers, its scents, its every shift of shadow. But I was not the only predator on the prowl.

The scent reached me first—foul and wrong, something that did not belong to the life of the forest. The air had changed; the birds had gone still. That silence was always a warning. I pulled an arrow from my quiver and held it ready, easing my breath as my ears sought the sound of my unseen stalker.

Then I saw it.

A dark shape, shifting between the trees, too low to be a man, too fluid to be a mere beast. The mangled corpse of a fox lay at its feet, twisted and torn. The thing’s breath rasped in the quiet—wet, hungry. It had not yet seen me.

I pressed myself against the bole of an ancient oak, heart steady, mind clear. This was not my fight. Not today. I would not waste my arrows on something I did not fully understand. The forest teaches patience as much as it teaches war.

I stepped back, careful with my footing. A dry twig snapped beneath my boot. A small sound, but enough. The creature’s head snapped toward me—hollow eyes glinting in the gloom. My stomach turned as I beheld its face—wrong, stretched, twisted into something that might have once been a wolf or a man, but now neither.

It lunged. I was faster.

I rolled back, loosing an arrow as I moved, aiming not to kill, but to deter. The shaft struck its shoulder, sinking deep, but it did not fall. It howled—a sound that should not be—and I did not wait to see if it would recover. I was already moving, already melting into the deeper shadows where the trees stood thick and strong.

I ran without panic, swift and sure-footed, never looking back. The forest closed behind me, its branches cradling me, shielding me from whatever hunted in that cursed place. It did not follow.

Only when I reached safer ground did I stop, breath steadying, the weight of the moment settling upon me. I had thought myself alone in these woods, thought that I knew every creature that roamed its depths. But there are things even I do not yet understand, dangers lurking in our world's unseen corners.

The forest is not always kind, even to its own. I will remember this lesson well.

Keila of the Cirthrowe​

 

[Azure Dragon]

A Moment of Reflection by the River

The river’s song was steady, a constant murmur of life winding its way past the Shrine of Corellon Larethian. The air was crisp, scented with damp earth and the lingering aroma of fallen leaves. It should have been a peaceful patrol. Instead, I carry a wound that burns deep, both in flesh and in pride.

I had spotted the wolf in the distance, prowling along the water’s edge. It was larger than I first judged, but arrogance took hold of my hand. I loosed an arrow, certain of its mark. It should have struck true. Yet, somehow, I missed it. The beast turned, and I fired again—another miss. I have loosed a thousand arrows in my time, and yet in this moment, when it mattered, I failed twice. I will not soon forget that shame.

The wolf charged. By then, my bow was useless, and I was forced to meet it with sword and shield. I am not without skill in the blade, but my steel was dull, worn from too many battles without proper care. It bit into the beast but did not cut as deep as I needed. Each strike slowed it, but not enough. The fight turned against me. I could have died there on the riverbank, beneath the pale boughs of our home. Instead, I fled.

Escape was not without cost. The wolf’s fangs found their mark before I could break away, and now I nurse the wound it left behind. My failure festers in more ways than one. This is a lesson I will not ignore—my aim must be better, and my blade must be sharper. I am no child with a toy bow. I will not be caught unprepared again.