Etoella

A young noble half-elf Lady who is smitten with the allure and excitement of adventure

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Perhaps it wasn’t the best decision that Lord Dynith had made since his wife had died. Perhaps it wasn’t the most informed. Had he known that Etoella had been sneaking out under the cover of dusk to cavort about with the drunks and the barmaids in the town of Staret Fysh, he would have reconsidered the implications of giving her over to the weapons master last summer. How could he have known that while her arms were growing the muscles of a skilled swordsmen, her mind was being filled with stories that tied to her thoughts a thousand strings that would pull her away from the manor.

Yes, perhaps it wasn’t the best decision that the Lord had made lately, but what was he supposed to do with a daughter like Etoella; too beautiful to even consider doing anything other than what she desired, too wild to be locked up at home. His main concern was too keep her busy. After watching some of the young squires chopping wood at the edge of bush, she quickly joined in. It is not unlikely that she wanted an excuse to be near our dear knight, Pote, who drilled the squires and taught them the ways of a knight.

Pote was perhaps the only man alive who could ever resist the charms of the Lords daughter. While all the squires swooned to help Etoella, she would push them away and swing the axe. Expectantly she would look up at Pote, seeking his approval but he would barely move a muscle on his face. His only offering was yelling at the poor girl instructing her on how improper her stance was (as sickly looking as a wet mayday ribbon), how weak her arms were (probably too dainty to hold a real axe), how slow her cord of wood was stacked (she was after all, just a woman).

Woman, not girl, but woman. That was the only kind word Pote ever spoke to Etoella and one could see how that word drove her to straighten her back, swing harder, and swiftly make cord after cord of wood appear alongside the squires.

It was no surprise that when the Lord did ask the weapons master to instruct Etoella in the art of swords, that she was a sturdy and strong pupil; so much so that the master took a chance. Instead of giving her the traditional war wares of a woman, he offered to teach he the broadsword. She did struggle at first since the sword itself was as tall as she was. But once she felt its deft swing, she took to it as if Pote was standing beside her, cursing her, humiliating her, pushing her on.

Etoella

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