Basic Goals: Peace in Tharel. Protection of Innocents. To love and teach the mortal children of the world. To encourage wisdom and to allow each their own dreams. To prevent, at all cost, the reassembly of the Rod of Destruction because of the loss of innocent life that would result.
Alliances: Cylad and Barbades, for the spread of knowledge. Vallien, because honor and nobility are wise choices for the children. Crifus, for help given to the young. Markov for beautiful and cunning toys that entertain and teach. Mahrina, and strained with Mahxissa, because both good and bad dreams can bring wisdom without real danger.
Enemies: Ytrewtsu, for ruthless use of mortals. Jirah, because manipulation obscures wisdom. Elbar and Fraktyl, because little can be taught in chaos. Sainos, as madness is the opposite of wisdom.
Indifference: Most others, although Gedria has definite opinions about each if asked.
Rules: Followers of Gedria may be of any race. All the children are to be treasured. Those that belong to the classes of Antipaladin or Necromancer will be turned away. They have already chosen death and power over life and wisdom. Other classes are welcomed with open arms, as the children need teachers of all kinds. Gedria looks upon killing as a necessary evil. Killers, slavers, and defilers of children will be stopped, if not by persuasion, then by death. Her followers will never ever kill a child, even if that child has gone astray or stolen something from the temple. Where there is youth and life, there is hope. (Quests to kill a child must be given up.) PKs must, of course, be justified in a note to Gedria.
RP Aspects: Gedria's followers are encouraged not to coddle the children. Doing for them what they should be able to do for themselves will weaken rather than strengthen them. Instead, the goddess recommends teaching and encouraging young ones. Showing them where to find the thing they need is more useful than simply presenting it to them. Occasional spoiling is, of course, accepted with a wink and a smile but, as a rule, her followers will tell how first, show how second, and then, if the child is truly unable, will help or do the task themselves. Unruly or demanding children should be treated with respect, but such behavior should never be rewarded. Any follower that buckles under the demands of such will do more harm to that child than good. Gedria frowns upon such behavior on the part of her followers and that harm could result in loss of devotion points just as help and teaching can result in gain.
Come and gather around, my children, and I will tell you a tale. No, Bright-eyes, I know I am not your mother, nor even your grandmother, but I do love you, just as I love Blue-wings, there, and Green-skin, and Silver-hair, here on either side of me. Now, move a bit closer so I can set up a protective circle around us all and then I will begin.
As you can see by my height and my pointed ears, (yes, Bright-eyes, of course you can touch them. They are quite real. Alright, you may sit in my lap while I speak.) I am one of the long-lived race of elves. As you probably know, because we live so long, elves very rarely have children. The elven woman who has one child feels richly blessed by Toroid. If she has two, the entire village will stop and stare as her little family walks by. I, my children, was vastly favored of the gods. I have been blessed with three lovely children. Gedrin, who became a mighty wizard; Gedrik, who led our village as chief for most of his long life; and Gedril, my lovely daughter, who followed in my footsteps to become a mother herself.
What are you looking for, Silver-hair? Oh, no. I'm sorry. My daughter is gone long ago into the next world and her children are far away and too old to play with, in any case, although I know they would cherish you as I do, should you ever meet them.
Yes, Green-skin, I am far older than I look, but that is part of my tale. After my children were born, while they were still young, the world as we knew it changed forever. The entire village felt the ground shake causing young and old alike to stagger in their steps and, worse yet, destroying one of the three shrines in the center of town that we had built to stand forever. Luckily, no worshipers were near when the shrine of Irrail suddenly became dust and rubble. What, Blue-wings? Oh, Her worshipers were in the forest nearby with the rest of the village, celebrating the marriage of the chief. What an amazing day that turned out to be!
It was, perhaps, five days later when the winds came. The village had begun clearing the rubble of the destroyed shrine and the followers of Irrail had built a makeshift shrine in the edge of the forest. My children were all snug in their beds and I, as I was wont to do, had hiked up the hill behind our home to a place bare of trees where I could rest in the silence and stare off into the far distances, enjoying the beauty of Fjiorim's creation. There were curious cloud formations that day, and I felt a storm would probably come before sundown but I should have had enough time to enjoy a few moments alone before seeking cover. Hmm? No, no, Bright-eyes. Of course I enjoyed the company of my family, but every creature needs solitude sometimes. Anyhow, I gazed off into the distance and suddenly saw, skidding along the ground, a bit of dark haziness. It is hard to describe. I stood, alarmed at its speed as it seemed to be coming directly towards me.
Before I could think to turn and run, it hit me, startling me with its warmth, like a sudden caress and then it was gone. The storm that had been chasing it hit with a vengeance, knocking me to the ground so I had to descend from the hill on hands and knees, worried for my children should I not make it home.
The storm lasted seven days. It tore through the trees with banshee wails. It tossed leaves and small branches through and around the village. The folk of the village huddled in their homes, each family praying to the gods to protect them and to keep the walls solid around them and around their loved ones. When the winds finally died down and the rains slowed, miraculously, the village was still intact. All the buildings still stood, except, of course, for the stone shrine that had been destroyed by the quake; and except for the makeshift shrine Irrail's followers had begun in the edge of the woods. That shrine had disappeared, leaving no trace.
Don't worry, my children. We are quite safe, here. That was a long time ago and in a far away land. Besides, you can see the glow of my magic around us, protecting us, can't you?
In the year that followed, travelers and bards came through our village with news of great destruction in the land of the 'First City' and even rumors, which we found hard to believe, that the ruins there had been turned to sere desert. Some whispered, although not in the hearing of Her faithful, that the Goddess Irrail had been destroyed and was no more. Yes, Bright-eyes, I know that is accepted as truth now, but you must try to understand. Cylad was not known, then, and Maeve was only beginning to gain power. Those that valued balance would have been utterly adrift if they were to hear and accept that Irrail was dead. The followers of Irrail rebuilt her shrine, with hope and prayer, and chose not to listen to the rumors that would have shaken their faith.
My life was full with the delights of motherhood. (Yes, Silver-hair, my children did, occasionally, require discipline but those difficult times were rare and the good times were well worth the bad.) My experience on the hill before the storm was largely forgotten among the necessities of life. If I occasionanally had more sudden insights than most or a bit more awareness of the world, it is known among my people that mothers are special. Since I was blessed with three children, it was accepted that I might be more special than most.
That was what I believed as well, until something wonderful happened. Listen carefully, my children, the best is yet to come. It was when my son, Gedrin, decided to study wizardry that I found I had abilities that were not related to my mothering talents at all.
You children might not know that the talents of a wizard usually begin to awaken just before adulthood. That is the time when a mother must watch and guide because the power can cause injury or worse if it is not recognized and trained. All of my children proved able to use magic and, as the power came upon each one, I was there to guide them through the difficult time and teach them the basic controls that would keep them from being a danger to themselves and others. When I was a young woman, I was also trained in small magics.
See, Bright-eyes, there on my palm? Don't worry. It's not hot, just bright. I'll put it away now. See? Gone. Anyway, when Gedrin, my youngest, proved more powerful than his siblings, I had to send him to the priest of Toroid for further training. He could have chosen to learn just enough to control his power but, instead, he drank up all that the priest taught him, toying and experimenting with the power on his own, once he learned the proper precautions.
It was during this time, as I watched him with his wards and books, as I saw the projects he created to present to his teachers, that I began to realize the truth. I could see exactly how he performed each act of magic and I became convinced that I could easily do the advanced tasks he was assigned.
After all of my offspring, no longer exactly children, had gone to bed one night, I began looking through the books he brought home, setting up the wards as I had seen him do, and trying things I never would have dreamed of when I was his age. Something was different about me; something other than Motherhood. I carefully put his things back in his pack, leaving it exactly as it had been and left the house, walking again to the top of that hill to gaze out into the darkness and think.
I couldn't let them know. My son needed a mother who would support and encourage him, not competition. I knew if I began openly studying wizardry that he would feel some of his uniqueness had been stolen. They would all be leaving home soon, anyhow, each following his or her own dream. I could wait to explore these new abilities until Gedrin was secure on his own path and in his own power. Time has always been on the side of elves.
Lying? Oh, no, Green-skin, it wasn't a lie. I merely kept my own thoughts to myself. Sometimes, the path that seems less honest and straightforward is the path that will accomplish the most good. A mother must consider not only how her decisions will affect her but also how they will affect her children. Nobility and Honor are foolishness if walking within them means that children will be lost. Being 'honest' at that moment was far less important to me than the future of my children, even if they were not exactly children anymore.
There on the hill in the darkness, it came back to me: that sudden, warm caress. What had been flying ahead of the storm that day? If rumor was to be credited, the quake and the storm were the result of the ultimate destruction of the ruins of the 'First City.' The same destruction that whispers said was the end of Irrail. Could it have been, perhaps, some fragment of the Goddess that came to meet me? I lowered my head and said a soft prayer to Toroid, then kept my eyes closed for a while, searching within my heart and mind for the answer. Finally I stood, still unsatisfied as to whether I had guessed the truth or not, but ready to seek my bed. It would be another busy day tomorrow.
Years passed. My daughter and sons all moved out, one by one, to pursue their own dreams. Quietly, I began collecting tomes of wizardry to study but I didn't experiment with the actual magic beyond the small things I had learned as a girl for a very long time. After all, it was dangerous and I had no real teacher. I would have to find one that would accept a grown student who developed her power at an advanced age and that would be difficult. I still believed I had plenty of time. Elves are a long lived race.
Then came the miracle of my grandchildren. Two of them! Toroid had truly blessed my family beyond our dreams. I was allowed to care for them often as they grew but was usually careful to follow Gedril's example. She was the Mother, now. Alright, Blue-wings. It's true, I did spoil them a little. That's what grandmas are for, isn't it? Seriously, though, I loved life in those days, studying magic on my own, and caring for my daughter's little ones when I was allowed.
When they were still very young, Gedril used to take them to pick berries in the wood near her home. They always loved the outing and she stayed near, keeping an eye on them both as they laughed and played among the bushes, getting berry stains on their hands and faces.
I had just finished cleaning the house one day, grateful that it would stay clean for a little while since the children were out berrying with their mother. I pulled out one of the worn tomes to study as I relaxed, going over one particularly puzzling passage. I had a feeling that passage would make sense if I simply tried the spell, but I was still reluctant to use the magic without supervision.
In a moment I went from puzzled to horrified, sitting straight up in my chair, wondering what had alarmed me so. I glanced around my peaceful, clean home and stood when the feeling came again! My children were in trouble! I had to get to them! Before I realized what I would do I was suddenly there in the woods. The screams of the children pierced my ears and I saw that they were huddled together, seemingly unhurt but staring with horror at a bear that was crouched over Gedril's still form. Tossing a prayer to any god who would listen, I concentrated on a warding spell, throwing protection over the children, just as I have warded us here. Then, I called to the bear, trying to draw it's attention but it ignored me. I attempted a charm spell but it shook it off with a growl. Finally, I reached into the ether and called to me the deadliest knife I could find, hopefully with a quick acting poison because I was not sure I could kill the bear before he killed me and there were the children to consider. (Bright-eyes, it will be alright, please don't squeeze the breath out of me.) I watched the bear, looking for my opening when a kind of braying noise made us both look up. There was a baby bear in the tree above Gedril! I dropped the knife. I couldn't poison another mother who was only protecting her own young! I summoned all my will and concentrated again, this time on a sleep spell, then sobbed with relief when the bear fell sideways, rather than upon the still body of my daughter. I raced to her, the children, quiet now, stood within the wards, their arms still wrapped around each other. Gedril was still breathing, thank Toroid, but I had to get her home, somehow. I glanced at the bear to assure myself it was still sleeping and lifted the ward protecting the children so they could come to their mother. I hugged them both to me, kneeling in the dirt and, after kissing their tearstained cheeks, said, "Grandma's going to your house, now, then she'll bring you each there. Be brave for Grandma, alright?" They straightened a bit and nodded. The magic I had been using didn't scare them at all, it seemed. I nodded and concentrated on Gedril's lovely home, the teleportation spell coming quickly to my mind, even though I had never consciously used it before. I summoned the children to me first, one at a time, then summoned Gedril, raising her from the floor with an easy 'fly' spell and settling her into her own bed. She stirred gently as she was moved and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
(Oh, there are your parents, children. I suppose the trade meeting is over. I hope things have gone well. Yes, Silver-hair? Oh, of course I'll finish the story.)
Gedril recovered and lived to raise her children to adulthood and was as proud of them as I was of her and her brothers. She died of old age. Even elves do that, sometimes. Me? No, I don't think I'll be leaving anytime soon. I want to stay and take care of the children. Mine used to call me 'Ma.' You could call me that, too, if you're sure your own mothers won't mind. Now, each of you give me a hug and a peck and run back to your parents. I dropped the circle of protection as soon as they appeared.
Gedria stands when the last child has left, brushing off and smoothing her skirts. She gazes off into the darkness and whispers, "Thank you, Irrail, wherever you are, now."