The Gift of the Dur'va'sheen {full version}

Standing before the Great Wood, pack in hand,
the half-drow stood waiting.
The voice had called, an urging he could not ignore.
He had been days walking, and still it called more.
He paused now to study what lay before him.

An old woods, a sacred wood
where men long since have feared to tred.
A place of magics long forgotten.
Where trees whisper secrets amongst themselves.

With a twitch of his ear, the shadow dog went forward.
What ever he had heard, he could not resist
it pulled at his very core
Magical, etherial whispers to the soul.
Something here beckoned, something here emplored.

His steps fell silent onto the moss filled floor.
Trees grew larger as the light grew dimmer.
Days further in till only his elven sight lit the way.
The very air steeped in magics gone deep, untamed.
Till even the birds were left far behind.


Finally, it came, a soft whisper touching his ears.
'You are here at last...' a'Mahth said.
Turning to the inner voice, the half-drow stilled.
His sight piercing the darkened shroud of moss.
Before him lay a great tree on its side, laid low over the ages.
Under its footprint of roots, a hollow glowing sloftly.
The walls etched in anchient runes and magics breathing its very air

A faint glow, a soft whisper,'..please hurry'.
The half-drow steps closer to sees what lies within.
There before him, in a place of honor, lay the Bow.
Quickly stepping forward, caution aside,
the spirit in the Bow was dying.

The light of the Dur'va'sheen flickered dangerously dim.
A host was needed for the spirit blade.
Never were they meant to go alone so long.
Knowledge through ages soon to be lost for all time.

A moments hesitation, a moment of doubt.
Surely it was not meant for a shadow dog?
This was a weapon for the highborn, a thing of great honor.
What would it want with a lowly half-drow?
Another flicker fainter still, was all the urging needed.

His hand placed round the grip, and his world exploded
It hit like a wave of power surging in, blinding, burning, purging.
A cascade of memories, two lives reliving in an instant.
Memories old and new shifting and blending,
the power casting the glade alite with Eldretch fire.

Three days of fever, three days of pain,
the price that was paid of two souls joining.
All that a Dur'va'sheen was, all that they've been.
The shared knowledge of two now one.
Host and weapon joined at the soul.

Awakened to a new life, a new friend held within.
Host and sage, elf and weapon.
The two halves broken, have now become whole.
A Dur'va'sheen once again walks the land....