Xandra Bandrass's page

The early morning breeze chills the shaved sides of her head as she kneels at the recent dug graves of her family. Her current meditation is from habit more than faith as the recent tragedies that have befallen her family have shaken most of that from her. First the gods took her from her family and now they have taken her family from her.

Her meditation takes her back to her youth on the small farm her father tended on the outskirts of Sand Point. The closeness of the farm to the city allowed for safety from the dangers of the area and her father‘s love of the land had earned him respect from the wood elves of the area. The family lived and worked in relative peace. She remembered learning how to use a bow from her father at an early age and her father always called her a natural. They worshiped Erastil god of the hunt and of farming, for obvious reasons. When several clerics of Erastil noticed her ability with the bow they inquired with her father if they could take her and teach her the ways of Erastil. Her father thought this was a gift from the god himself to allow one of such poor upbringing the ability to learn and become a cleric or monk so he accepted on the spot.

She obeyed her father’s wishes and went with the clerics even though it tore at her heart to be separated. She studied and trained hard and quickly did become a monk skilled at using and making bows, but she always missed her parents and three younger siblings.
When she received the news of her family’s death and she was given leave to bury and mourn them. The story of the house burning down struck her as odd but possible. So she has come every day for the past two weeks to kneel and meditate at their graves. Her meditation on this morning is broken by the sound of a falcon’s cry and as she turns to see if she can spy the bird she notices him. The unusual young man has returned again this weekend. He looks out of place in his fine clothes walking among the graves. Why would any young man choose to spend his time wandering in this type of place, but the thought quickly leaves her as she turns her thoughts back to her family and her future. Where will she go from here, what will she do. She only knows that she does not want to return to the monastery, and life without her family leaves a hole in her soul. She really wants nothing more than the sweet release from this reality, but only if it is an honorable one. And Sandpoint a place she once called home, is celebrating while she mourns. The annual Swallowtail Festival is almost here but what is celebration with noone to celebrate with... it is lonely.