**~122 years ago on the western edge of Taldor’s border with the lands of Andoran, which were at the time occupied by Cheliax**
Teros Fordham shifted uncomfortably on the wooden wagon seat. These long rides out to the rural reaches of Taldor did not sit upon his aging bones and joints as easily as they had in his youth. Trips to the far reaches of the empire to administer rural adjudication were considered a burden fit for the youth of the clergy, but Teros took great pride in this work. It was an escape from the politics and claustrophobia of the city. Out here he could sit in silence and enjoy the countryside. No lobbyists trying to ply their agendas with silvered tongue, no unrepentant and hardened criminals to sentence to death. These trips usually involved minor property rights judgments….was a fence line too far to the right…dealing with the ramifications of a farm hound getting into a neighbor’s chicken coop. It was justice that offered people comfort in knowing that they were protected by a greater power, that there was right, that there was order. Even after all of these years in Abadar’s service that idea made Teros feel satisfaction.
He was nearing the eastern border of Taldor, close to the Chelaxian occupied lands. This trip was to bring him to the village of Newsted, a small farming community on the Sellen River. He hadn’t been this far west in many years. The sun was just beginning to set and would bring a much needed reprieve from the dry summer heat. He urged the horses onward, hoping to make the village by nightfall. Chelaxian patrols were known to make covert border crossings far into these lands and he did not want to be caught alone at night.
Suddenly a piercing scream shot out from the roadside. It sounded like a female voice in great pain. Teros pulled back on the reins and brought the creaking wagon to an abrupt stop. He held still waiting to know if the long hours alone on the road had been plying tricks on his old ears. Again he heard the scream. It sounded as if a woman was in terrible agony.
He was able to roughly pinpoint the location of the sound. It was emanating from a small grove of trees about 25 yards from the side of the road. He grabbed his staff and climbed down from the wagon and approached the roadside with trepidation. There was a small, but steep roadside ditch with a short clearing separating him from the trees. What, he wondered, could cause such a scream? His gold robes snagged on the brambles and dry brush as he descended into the ditch. Once through the gully he began to climb a short incline to approach the clearing before the trees.
“I am getting too old for this. I should have brought another. I am getting too stubborn for my own good” he thought too himself as he disentangled his robes from yet another short, thorny bush at the apex of the ditch.
Finally he was in the clearing in between the roadside ditch and the woods. Another high pitched wail erupted from the small grove. Its proximity startled him. The voice was not screaming in any language, just an eruption of pure agony.
“Who is there? I am Teros of Abadar. I may help you if you show yourself. I mean you no harm” he called out into the grove.
Another scream was returned in response. Although the wail once again did not contain any discernable words, it did have the tone of a plaintive call for help.
Teros pulled up his robes and ran to the grove as fast as his aging legs could carry him. The thick canopy of the dense cluster of trees blotted out much of what was left of the day’s sun. It was cooler here. The air held moisture. The trees were covered in dark green moss. He pushed through the outer layer of trees to the center of the grove.
“Where are you?” he called out.
This time the scream was not much more than a weak, sobbing whimper.
Teros looked down to a small clearing of tall grass in the center of the grove and saw her.
She was an elf maiden. She had dark black hair, brilliant green eyes with a lithe beauty in her face that the creator saved only for the elves. She was in agony. Her belly was swollen with child. Teros knew in a moment that she would not live through this birth.
He rushed to her side and dropped to his knees. He cradled her head in one hand and reached down to her belly with the other. He raised his eyes to the heavens and prayed to Abadar. He prayed for Abadar’s divine grace to comfort the woman and save the child. Abadar answered his prayer. In a moment the strain on the elf woman’s face eased a bit. Her eyes closed.
“Stay with me darling, we need to deliver your child. Stay with me” Teros implored.
He checked the baby to see if it was a breech birth or if the cord was wrapped around the child’s neck. He could not find anything out of the ordinary…yet he knew this was not a normal birth. There was too much pain. This just did not feel right. He had administered over a few elven births in his long career of travel, which was very rare for any human, but he had never seen anything like this. He could not discern what was causing such strain on the mother. He again prayed for Abadar’s healing hand to embrace the mother and child. Again Abadar answered.
Teros moved quickly to deliver the child, he was not sure how much longer the mother would live. He could see by her garments that she was Chelaxian. Chelaxian elves were very rare, often captured as children and sold into slavery among the unscrupulous nobility. The simple and rugged look to her clothes led him to believe his suspicions were true. These were not the delicate and beautiful garments of the elven cultures, these were the rough garments of a slave.
The baby was ready. He held the mothers hand tight to keep her concentration, squeezing it sharply each time she began to falter. Again he prayed for Abadar’s strength for the child, this time calling upon his most powerful restorative blessing, one he had not been called to use in many years. Again Abadar answered. The blessing flowed through his hands and into the child who was fighting to make it into this world.
The mother screamed again as she pushed with what little strength she had left. The baby emerged.
Teros, in his rural travels, had delivered many children. Often his simple calls for Abadar’s blessing meant the difference between life and death for mother and child on the frontier. Many newborn children had passed into his hands…hundreds, if not a thousand.
Teros, if not for the divinity of Abadar, would have dropped this child in shock.
As he held the child aloft he felt the mother relax her grip upon this life and pass on.
The child was elven, but large for an elf newborn. It had skin of stark alabaster white, dark black hair. When it looked up at him it had the same emerald green eyes as the mother, yet they glowed green light into Teros’s face. He had seen that hue of green before. It was the light of the Outer Planes. It was the light of the Abyss.
Teros called upon Abadar’s blessing of wisdom. Abadar answered.
With Abadar’s blessing he could discern many things. This child was not evil. The child did have a partial planar aura, but also a strong elven aura. How could this be? How could he be seeing the light of the cursed Abyss in this innocent child’s eyes? How had the mother found this lonely grove? Who or what was the father of this child? Teros could find no clues upon the body of the mother. He wrapped the baby and carried it in a makeshift sling as he prepared her for last rites. As he worked, he began to piece together what he may have stumbled upon in this roadside grove....
His trip to Newsted would need to be postponed. The High Council would need to see this child. Never in his life had Teros heard of such a birth. This might be the first Tiefling elf child to live through childbirth in centuries. The soul of the child was unspoiled.
Teros Fordham carried the newborn in his arms and climbed into his wagon. He circled it around sharply and made for Oppara at great speed. The child fell asleep in his arms as the last remnants of the sun sank below the horizon.
