13 Kythorn, Nashkel - Reveille
The breaking dawn brought little promise of cutting through the chill of the morning air that bit through the elf's uniform as they assembled for further physical training. The warm sands of the high desert felt farther away than ever before. Among the press of forced comradery, moments would come where she found herself isolated and grappling with doubt regarding the wisdom of her placement among these. Even the tribes of the Al-Badia seemed to possess a warmth that was fleeting at best among the people here, seemingly regardless of position or status. The recruits that had made it through the initial screening seemed to share a resolve to make it through these trials that she couldn't find within herself. They felt as stained as this land, and though that had been expected, it just accented feeling like she didn't belong. Thin shoulders rose and fell again with a deep breath as she straightened her surcotte and smiled at the Loxodon as she approached the line. The large beasts eyes barely seemed to register her small frame as she approached and took her place alongside the massive creature. The master of arms didn’t allow them long idle. The portly dwarf came strolling up with hammer and shield in hand before clanging them together and calling out the first orders of the early morning. “To the racks with you. Square off in sets and give four blows before I bring my own hammer to bear. Let's go, even rot grubs can move faster than you lot o gnomes" She smiled as she thought of how far that sound must carry and who it may bother in Nashkel. Surely the recruits weren’t the only ones who didn’t appreciate the dwarves early morning drive. Her smile faded and eyes widened as he thrust a short arm toward her and motioned before him with the hammer. “All but you elf.” He spat, continuing to grumble beneath his breath as she stood before him. “Never in all my years have I seen an elf who can’t at least spin a blade or pull string. Clangeddin himself would enforce my recommendation to send you with sack if he witnessed the utter incompetence I did yesterday.” She grimaced, wrestling to keep an embarrassed smile from hovering around the corners of her mouth and glancing with some envy at the others across the field pulling weapons from the rack with a familiarity she lacked. “What forest have you been lost in to never see a blade in two centuries?” She bowed her head ever so slightly in apology and spread her hands open to bear witness to her own inability. “I do apologize master dwarf, I’m but a servant of the Al-Hadhar, just trained in awl and shuttle.” The dwarf seemed about to launch into berating her again before he stopped himself. In a moment of candor he met her eyes and spoke to her simply, yet his words hit like a sand mallet. "Elf, the Tiefling has washed out. If you can't bring yourself to be more than an artisan and support them in the arcane then your own lack of honor will likely condemn this group. You must be more that the sorry excuse for a halfling child I have seen the last two ten day. Even if you are all that Tymora has provided them, at least be what your fate demands." The expression on Morai's face was frozen. Her brain struggling to adopt his word, weighing them against her of worldview she thought was so different than this dwarves. The words crashed like waves crushing an already weakened bulkhead, what remained of any confidence slipping into a sea of doubt. A small nod was enough for the dwarf to huff through nostrils and leave her standing mired in inadequacy.
17 Kythorn, Nashkel - Excerpt from dispatch to Theemond
Furthermore, I will take your words of encouragement in regard to the arcane uncle. I do appreciate your seeking answers of the Baule diviner. I have made a small progress already, though I admit I fear it will be far less than expected. I confess, I find the drive of the master at arms as tiring as the sorcerers of the court. They seem convinced that these adventuring groups can pull the very threads of fate. Their arrogance I imagine would be a shadow cast over the marble Hazus' court. I continue to answer the call given to the best of my ability. Within two moons I expect to be able to produce some report. For now, I can but pray we end up well equipped for the road before us.
On another account your wisdom proves of great aid again. Before the Tiefling vacated the barracks, your kin did point me in the direction of a burrow of gnomes who were able to assist some with sources of fiber I may be able to procure that will allow a furtherance of my true craft. I have begun production with what I was able to purchase from them for the little coin I have already been paid. I do wonder if I'll be able to keep up with the demand of this group at the pace they drive forward though. Fate will tell. The eight great gods provide for our needs and especially Najm; may I be forgiven for not giving proper reverence and smoke to them. I do my best now to cloth myself in enlightenment as they would in our up coming service.
As for those I serve with, there are several that show promise of making it through the legions trials. While I may doubt my own ability to complete this training, at least several of theirs I believe will be well suited. Tsavo loxodon requires only apply half of his heart to the task and it crumbles before him. In the absence of a cleric Theo will be of great necessity and the master at arms already takes his skill for granted, seeing an easy application unlike my own. There is one of my own distant kin born of shadow here as well, I'm not sure what yet I can draw from observation though. Like so many of even the common folk of the sword coast or our own ranks, this Shadar-Kai seems to wrestle with internal chaos in the absence of enlightenment. I had not realized the darkness of the land in full before my attempts at taking my own place among them. The worship of lesser gods is prevalent and they lack any understanding of their own nature, and this puts them as a small craft out to sea. He most I see potential perhaps in leading the section in a proper altruistic manner.
My ink well runs low uncle and the sun will show soon. Know that I would empty what is left with my thanks should time permit before the next messenger leaves with this set of dispatches in the morning. May you find peace and comfort in a new apprentice in my absence. May their benefit be as great as my own in the craft under your wise tutelage uncle.