(This book… seems little more than pieces of parchment bound together at a later date, though it is evident that it sees continued use. The leather that the pages are carefully bound to is worn and supple. Even despite its obviously regular use, it is evident that it is cared for and well maintained, much as one would expect of a precious artifact.
Many of the pages appear to be damaged from being crumpled and stashed away, or water-stained. A few are smattered with blood, a few are burnt. Some are not even pages at all, but scrap bits layered over fresh parchment, and varnished lightly to protect them from further damage. It is bound with red cord, sturdy and carefully done… a laborious effort to preserve the past.
Penned carefully on the inside of the cover, in dark ink are the words: )
‘That I may never again forget...'
(There are several pages folded into the bindings here that look newer than the original pages in the bindings of the book. Some are newer than others. There is also evidence in a few places that pages have been removed. Careful sketches of many people with names and physical descriptions written on the back of them. There are also many maps held in place by the folds with red cord. It would seem these are kept to ensure that she does not forget anyone of note, nor any place. After the section of maps and faces, which appear to be constantly added to, begins a journal of sorts. There are no actual dates, merely references to passages of time. Occasionally there are flowers carefully dried and pressed into the pages. Also crammed into the folds of the book binding, many drawings, sketches of faces, brief descriptions of people and places, maps and the like. The earlier pages are little more than scrap bits, though this very first page, seems added later much like a preface.)
[FIRST ENTRY]
PREFACE
Time is Irrelevant, it is the details that matter... the faces and names and places we visit.
Memories are but precious gifts that should be held on to no matter what. I have gone through great lengths to preserve these tattered pages over the years. Thankfully the important details survived. I would not wish to forget that which has brought me to where I am today. I wish to always remember the darkness that came before the light, that I may never again forget how precious it is to be happy… Without the past… who are we? I have already had to ask myself this once before… I will not have to ask again. These pages shall attest to that.
Of all that came before, and all that is yet to come, the paths before me are seemingly endless. I am grateful for each memory, be it a joyful one, or one of sorrow.
~~
Never Again Forget - Saint Merielle Silene
-
LeslieMS
- Posts: 1076
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:43 pm
- Location: Oklahoma, United States
Never Again Forget - Saint Merielle Silene
Last edited by LeslieMS on Fri Mar 11, 2011 2:45 pm, edited 9 times in total.
"Play nice." Mum
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
-
LeslieMS
- Posts: 1076
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:43 pm
- Location: Oklahoma, United States
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
[SECOND ENTRY]
THE FOUNDLING…
It is well after dark… I do not know how long I have slept, but it could have been days. We have stopped for the night, and while those who travel with me now have left me alone, I cannot say I trust their motives. Nor can I say with any certainty that their intentions hold any true good motive. I don’t like the way they look at me, but I am hurt, and I have no idea where I even am.
My head still hurts, though the wound has stopped bleeding. I keep getting fuzzy bits of thought, but it is hard to make sense of it all. Things are so fragmented. I tried to start writing things down to make sense of them, but the man took the paper and quill away. I found some charcoals though, this will have to do. Who are these people and why don’t they want me figuring out what is going on?
There is a woman who by all intentions seems to be in charge. She is a rough unsavory sort, but her companions worry me the most… I am in no shape to travel alone, and at least my chances are better with the present company than the wolves. The woman said she tended my wounds when they found me. She told me her name was… Oh… blast things are muddled even now…
(There are marks on the paper where she absently tapped the parchment with her bit of charcoal, smudges made while deep in thought.)
Dylanna! Ah yes… I must make it a point to write everything down, lest I forget something important. She told me they found me near death on the side of the road. There was a merchant caravan… but the wagons were destroyed and everyone else was dead. Bandits most likely. They asked me if I knew who the others were.
The others… I vaguely remember a woman and a man… and a baby? Was that a baby crying? Why couldn’t I remember it clearly? Why couldn’t I remember my name? They looked at me so oddly when I told them I didn’t remember anything before waking. It was then that they began riffling through a bunch of things… Some of them looked distantly familiar. She pulled up a bunch of papers, picking through names there.
‘Ah. This one sounds right for you, girl… fits your age too. Merielle Keelyn Williams. Sounds a bit foppish if you ask me. Bloody, spoiled merchant’s daughter! Bet you never worked a day in your precious little life.’
The two men sneered and whispered among themselves, making rude gestures. I couldn’t trust these people… but at least something had been learned. The name -felt- right. A merchant’s daughter? My hands are smooth, I seem well fed… I suppose that makes sense too, though it feels… less right than the name… still, it makes sense.
I am going to try to rest… good thing I am not a light sleeper. I just wish I had some sort of weapon in case they come sneaking into my tent. I may not remember much, but I know enough for that -look- to make my skin crawl. Later I will try to sneak a dagger or something… and a quill.
I can’t say I am keen on trying to sleep. In my sleep I see fires… the burning wagons. I hear them scream. I have the impression of running, though from who I do not know. I fell. I remember tripping on a broken wagon wheel… Then blackness.
When the darkness receded, it took with it all memory of my past… my childhood… my family. I feel a great emptiness and grieve for the memory of something I cannot recall… I grieve for a past that is now lost to me. In the deep of my heart I know I am forgetting something very important, some clue.
There were some books recovered from the wagons’ wastes, and as I glimpse through the few of them that Dylanna called rubbish and tossed away, I feel a nagging familiarity, as though I have read them before, learned from them… I am getting tired, perhaps I can rest for a bit. Perhaps the events of the past will return to me. Perhaps I shall not dream of smoke and burnt flesh. Maybe there are answers buried still?
~~
THE FOUNDLING…
It is well after dark… I do not know how long I have slept, but it could have been days. We have stopped for the night, and while those who travel with me now have left me alone, I cannot say I trust their motives. Nor can I say with any certainty that their intentions hold any true good motive. I don’t like the way they look at me, but I am hurt, and I have no idea where I even am.
My head still hurts, though the wound has stopped bleeding. I keep getting fuzzy bits of thought, but it is hard to make sense of it all. Things are so fragmented. I tried to start writing things down to make sense of them, but the man took the paper and quill away. I found some charcoals though, this will have to do. Who are these people and why don’t they want me figuring out what is going on?
There is a woman who by all intentions seems to be in charge. She is a rough unsavory sort, but her companions worry me the most… I am in no shape to travel alone, and at least my chances are better with the present company than the wolves. The woman said she tended my wounds when they found me. She told me her name was… Oh… blast things are muddled even now…
(There are marks on the paper where she absently tapped the parchment with her bit of charcoal, smudges made while deep in thought.)
Dylanna! Ah yes… I must make it a point to write everything down, lest I forget something important. She told me they found me near death on the side of the road. There was a merchant caravan… but the wagons were destroyed and everyone else was dead. Bandits most likely. They asked me if I knew who the others were.
The others… I vaguely remember a woman and a man… and a baby? Was that a baby crying? Why couldn’t I remember it clearly? Why couldn’t I remember my name? They looked at me so oddly when I told them I didn’t remember anything before waking. It was then that they began riffling through a bunch of things… Some of them looked distantly familiar. She pulled up a bunch of papers, picking through names there.
‘Ah. This one sounds right for you, girl… fits your age too. Merielle Keelyn Williams. Sounds a bit foppish if you ask me. Bloody, spoiled merchant’s daughter! Bet you never worked a day in your precious little life.’
The two men sneered and whispered among themselves, making rude gestures. I couldn’t trust these people… but at least something had been learned. The name -felt- right. A merchant’s daughter? My hands are smooth, I seem well fed… I suppose that makes sense too, though it feels… less right than the name… still, it makes sense.
I am going to try to rest… good thing I am not a light sleeper. I just wish I had some sort of weapon in case they come sneaking into my tent. I may not remember much, but I know enough for that -look- to make my skin crawl. Later I will try to sneak a dagger or something… and a quill.
I can’t say I am keen on trying to sleep. In my sleep I see fires… the burning wagons. I hear them scream. I have the impression of running, though from who I do not know. I fell. I remember tripping on a broken wagon wheel… Then blackness.
When the darkness receded, it took with it all memory of my past… my childhood… my family. I feel a great emptiness and grieve for the memory of something I cannot recall… I grieve for a past that is now lost to me. In the deep of my heart I know I am forgetting something very important, some clue.
There were some books recovered from the wagons’ wastes, and as I glimpse through the few of them that Dylanna called rubbish and tossed away, I feel a nagging familiarity, as though I have read them before, learned from them… I am getting tired, perhaps I can rest for a bit. Perhaps the events of the past will return to me. Perhaps I shall not dream of smoke and burnt flesh. Maybe there are answers buried still?
~~
Last edited by LeslieMS on Fri Mar 11, 2011 2:47 pm, edited 9 times in total.
"Play nice." Mum
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
-
LeslieMS
- Posts: 1076
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:43 pm
- Location: Oklahoma, United States
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
[THIRD ENTRY]
THE ROAD TO ATHKATLA (SEVERAL TENDAY?)
I am around my fifteenth year, or that is at least what the woman thinks after examining me… The woman, Dylanna, there is no kindness to her. She assessed me like a piece of livestock. I think she is the older scruffy man’s sister, and a plaything for the other man.
The dark haired man looks like an assassin or some equally terrible villain that one would expect to see wanted for all manner of criminal activity. His eyes are cold, and I do not like the way he looks at me. He looks at me in much the same way he looks at Dylanna, but with a glint of cruelty and a sneer that I do not wish to understand.
The other man, the read-headed and brutish, hardly pays attention to me. I suppose that is a blessing. I heard him speaking with Dylanna and the gruff looking one speaking of my ‘value’ to the Thayans or the Zhents… Slavery! I must look for a way to be free from them… We are staying on the main road as far as I can tell. Perhaps I can run to the nearest town. I have little chance alone, but it is a worse fate to be a slave than to fall victim to the wilderness… I have to try…
~~
(The script is a bit jagged, as though the hand that writes it is weak and unsteady, but at least now it is done in quill and ink.)
I should not have tried to run… they were not happy that I did, of course. And to further my torment... Now I know some of the truth. I have been beaten for trying to run, but not too badly. The pain of my body pales in comparison to the pain in my heart… and my ‘traveling companions’ have shown their truest nature.
I haven’t long to write as I am sure they will be in to beat me more or… worse… The only thing that keeps the beatings under control, and the men from… Well… Dylanna insists that I be kept in good shape so that I may fetch a good bit of coin. Of course, her words didn’t stop them from giving me quite the beating. I scared them though… Scared myself. I don’t know what happened or how, but in the instant I thought I couldn’t survive another punch… My wounds mended. Dylanna now has them trying to duplicate the trick. If the gods hear prayers… please… don’t know how much more of this I can bear.
~~
The beatings went on for days. Or… Nights rather. We traveled by day light. A group of travelers passed us. It was frightening to sit there with the dagger in my back… every time I thought to speak he increased the pressure. The wound isn’t deep or fatal, but it was painful, and enough to keep my silence. Dylanna stood there and told the travelers kindly that they had found me amid a caravan laid to waste by bandits. Told them that they were taking me to Athkatla to see to my treatment and see about a good home. A good home indeed! The travelers looked on me sympathetically. No doubt they mistook the pleading look on my face for one of a girl scared half to death… Who had found out that her mother, father and infant sister were slain…
Away they went, and left me alone with my captors. I am to be sold in Athkatla. At least they have given up trying to get me to mend my own wounds again. I have been fixed up right proper, and mostly left alone as we near our destination. Dylanna wants the best price possible. I overheard them talking. They were paid to kill us all, by the merchant’s rival. The merchant who was supposedly my father, had made an enemy… and Dylanna, her brother and the other… They were paid to kill us all.
Dylanna saw my lack of memory as a way to make further coin. Once they deliver me to the slavers, and take the head of the merchant and my mother and the child… Goodness what a thought… The enemy was under the impression that my father only had one daughter? And they will deliver heads, and sell me off… If he had only one daughter… is my surname really Williams like the others? Either way, I was one of four Williams present. The contract was for three… What odd twist of fate is it that I survive? How do I get out of this mess?
~~
THE ROAD TO ATHKATLA (SEVERAL TENDAY?)
I am around my fifteenth year, or that is at least what the woman thinks after examining me… The woman, Dylanna, there is no kindness to her. She assessed me like a piece of livestock. I think she is the older scruffy man’s sister, and a plaything for the other man.
The dark haired man looks like an assassin or some equally terrible villain that one would expect to see wanted for all manner of criminal activity. His eyes are cold, and I do not like the way he looks at me. He looks at me in much the same way he looks at Dylanna, but with a glint of cruelty and a sneer that I do not wish to understand.
The other man, the read-headed and brutish, hardly pays attention to me. I suppose that is a blessing. I heard him speaking with Dylanna and the gruff looking one speaking of my ‘value’ to the Thayans or the Zhents… Slavery! I must look for a way to be free from them… We are staying on the main road as far as I can tell. Perhaps I can run to the nearest town. I have little chance alone, but it is a worse fate to be a slave than to fall victim to the wilderness… I have to try…
~~
(The script is a bit jagged, as though the hand that writes it is weak and unsteady, but at least now it is done in quill and ink.)
I should not have tried to run… they were not happy that I did, of course. And to further my torment... Now I know some of the truth. I have been beaten for trying to run, but not too badly. The pain of my body pales in comparison to the pain in my heart… and my ‘traveling companions’ have shown their truest nature.
I haven’t long to write as I am sure they will be in to beat me more or… worse… The only thing that keeps the beatings under control, and the men from… Well… Dylanna insists that I be kept in good shape so that I may fetch a good bit of coin. Of course, her words didn’t stop them from giving me quite the beating. I scared them though… Scared myself. I don’t know what happened or how, but in the instant I thought I couldn’t survive another punch… My wounds mended. Dylanna now has them trying to duplicate the trick. If the gods hear prayers… please… don’t know how much more of this I can bear.
~~
The beatings went on for days. Or… Nights rather. We traveled by day light. A group of travelers passed us. It was frightening to sit there with the dagger in my back… every time I thought to speak he increased the pressure. The wound isn’t deep or fatal, but it was painful, and enough to keep my silence. Dylanna stood there and told the travelers kindly that they had found me amid a caravan laid to waste by bandits. Told them that they were taking me to Athkatla to see to my treatment and see about a good home. A good home indeed! The travelers looked on me sympathetically. No doubt they mistook the pleading look on my face for one of a girl scared half to death… Who had found out that her mother, father and infant sister were slain…
Away they went, and left me alone with my captors. I am to be sold in Athkatla. At least they have given up trying to get me to mend my own wounds again. I have been fixed up right proper, and mostly left alone as we near our destination. Dylanna wants the best price possible. I overheard them talking. They were paid to kill us all, by the merchant’s rival. The merchant who was supposedly my father, had made an enemy… and Dylanna, her brother and the other… They were paid to kill us all.
Dylanna saw my lack of memory as a way to make further coin. Once they deliver me to the slavers, and take the head of the merchant and my mother and the child… Goodness what a thought… The enemy was under the impression that my father only had one daughter? And they will deliver heads, and sell me off… If he had only one daughter… is my surname really Williams like the others? Either way, I was one of four Williams present. The contract was for three… What odd twist of fate is it that I survive? How do I get out of this mess?
~~
Last edited by LeslieMS on Fri Mar 11, 2011 2:47 pm, edited 4 times in total.
"Play nice." Mum
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
-
LeslieMS
- Posts: 1076
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:43 pm
- Location: Oklahoma, United States
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
[FOURTH ENTRY]
Athkatla
(The next few entries are scribbled in whatever was available, on scraps of paper and on small bits of cloth. They seem to have been stuck in place by sap and carefully varnished over with a very thin layer of it. Pressed between these brittle pages are various wildflowers. A cheerful contrast to dark story the pages tell.)
I am in a cell… it is cold and dark. There are others. A man who seems to be ill from the conditions, and two girls, younger than I. The man barely eats, he’s asked that I divide what he gets into thirds and split it among the three of us girls. I still try to sneak him a bit of bread. I don’t think he will last very long. Neither does he. He seems content with his coming end… How terrible must life be for one to wish for death?
~~
The man has died after… days? One less mouth to ‘feed’ so there is less to go around. The two girls seem to think that he was sleeping. I didn’t correct them… I barely eat more than I need to maintain some strength and awareness. The rest goes to the two girls. They are so young! Rinara is about seven, Valencia, nine maybe? I would cry for the cruelty fate has dealt them if I had the strength to do so, and knew it wouldn't upset them.
~~
I do not know how long I have been here. Days now? Weeks? I am now alone in this cell. The girls were taken some hours ago… perhaps even a day ago. They march up and down the rows of cells looking us over as they would choose produce from the market, and with little or no thought to our humanity. At least the woman who took the girls looked like an amiable sort. Talked how the girls would be good for help in her kitchens. They hugged me when they left, and I smiled hoping that my lightheartedness would bolster their hopes. I shall not see them again… I hope as we go our separate ways that time treats them well.
~~
I have been bought by a nobleman. Fat disgusting thing. At least it gets me out of this cell.
(The next several passages talk about the nobleman’s wife, who teaches her to sew and cook. Meri learns much, how to fix hair, make up, become very quick at making lovely gowns, and discovers a natural knack for cooking.
At some point the noblewoman dies, and the next several passages chronicle a ghastly span of time at the Noblewoman’s widower. The fat disgusting man… and none of it is pleasant. Eventually she works up a scheme to poison him… which lands her back in a Slaver cell… a thing she sees as a blessing at the time…)
~~
A man with red robes and a funny accent came to my cell today. He ordered me washed and dressed, fed so I would be coherent. Now I am back in my cell, and waiting for him… seems I have been purchased. They inked some funny marks on my arm too. I wonder what they mean? I am… afraid. I don’t know if I will ever add to these ‘pages’ again. I could almost understand, after so much time here, how he would wish for death… But I wish for something more. I wish for freedom… If I can just hold on to that…
~~
Athkatla
(The next few entries are scribbled in whatever was available, on scraps of paper and on small bits of cloth. They seem to have been stuck in place by sap and carefully varnished over with a very thin layer of it. Pressed between these brittle pages are various wildflowers. A cheerful contrast to dark story the pages tell.)
I am in a cell… it is cold and dark. There are others. A man who seems to be ill from the conditions, and two girls, younger than I. The man barely eats, he’s asked that I divide what he gets into thirds and split it among the three of us girls. I still try to sneak him a bit of bread. I don’t think he will last very long. Neither does he. He seems content with his coming end… How terrible must life be for one to wish for death?
~~
The man has died after… days? One less mouth to ‘feed’ so there is less to go around. The two girls seem to think that he was sleeping. I didn’t correct them… I barely eat more than I need to maintain some strength and awareness. The rest goes to the two girls. They are so young! Rinara is about seven, Valencia, nine maybe? I would cry for the cruelty fate has dealt them if I had the strength to do so, and knew it wouldn't upset them.
~~
I do not know how long I have been here. Days now? Weeks? I am now alone in this cell. The girls were taken some hours ago… perhaps even a day ago. They march up and down the rows of cells looking us over as they would choose produce from the market, and with little or no thought to our humanity. At least the woman who took the girls looked like an amiable sort. Talked how the girls would be good for help in her kitchens. They hugged me when they left, and I smiled hoping that my lightheartedness would bolster their hopes. I shall not see them again… I hope as we go our separate ways that time treats them well.
~~
I have been bought by a nobleman. Fat disgusting thing. At least it gets me out of this cell.
(The next several passages talk about the nobleman’s wife, who teaches her to sew and cook. Meri learns much, how to fix hair, make up, become very quick at making lovely gowns, and discovers a natural knack for cooking.
At some point the noblewoman dies, and the next several passages chronicle a ghastly span of time at the Noblewoman’s widower. The fat disgusting man… and none of it is pleasant. Eventually she works up a scheme to poison him… which lands her back in a Slaver cell… a thing she sees as a blessing at the time…)
~~
A man with red robes and a funny accent came to my cell today. He ordered me washed and dressed, fed so I would be coherent. Now I am back in my cell, and waiting for him… seems I have been purchased. They inked some funny marks on my arm too. I wonder what they mean? I am… afraid. I don’t know if I will ever add to these ‘pages’ again. I could almost understand, after so much time here, how he would wish for death… But I wish for something more. I wish for freedom… If I can just hold on to that…
~~
Last edited by LeslieMS on Fri Mar 11, 2011 2:48 pm, edited 6 times in total.
"Play nice." Mum
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
-
LeslieMS
- Posts: 1076
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:43 pm
- Location: Oklahoma, United States
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
[FIFTH ENTRY]
Thesk and Neverwinter
We ‘teleported’ away from Athkatla. He said it was some place called Thesk. Spent days… ‘Establishing my place’ as he put it… what it amounted to was a horrible amount of suffering at the hand of The Master. Never use his name… Never speak out of turn. Never… because it hurts. Never argue… do what I am told… I get to eat well when I behave. I hate this place… He is malevolent and insane with power. There are no doors, he uses that stone to ‘teleport’ out. The windows from the third floor are so very small… allow the view of the countryside. Doesn’t seem to be near any particular city… Of course when you can hop about at a whim… I had best get back to duty. The Golems are looking at me oddly again… hulking metal beasts! I had best get back to my duties.
~~
I spend my days organizing scrolls and notes for The Master. He feeds me well enough and supplies me with comfortable clothing. He is cruel though. His temper is unlike anything I have ever seen. Unfortunately when things go badly, I bear the brunt of his wrath. He is always quick to fix any damage done, as he says
‘I would hate for you to lose value, stupid girl.’
I suppose there are worse fates… though I am loathe to imagine such. At least I have proper parchment and ink to write with. He does not seem to mind my writing, or reading. In fact it seems to my benefit to learn as it affords me less mundane tasks. I am becoming quite adept at treating burns, and removing splinters from whatever bits of furniture get shot out from one mystical mishap to another.
He is always experimenting, and constantly scheming. Someone tried to poison him recently. I was able to counter the toxin. Of course I expected no gratitude, for he knew I aided him out of self preservation, not some false bit of emotional attachment. He merely remarked on my gained knowledge. A passing remark:
‘Learned something useful, hmm?’
Still I took some sense of pride in it. It means I am worth keeping, and thus for now safer than I no doubt could be. Some of the people he spends his time with… I would hate to be a slave to one of the other wizards. For all The Master’s sadistic cruelty and experimentation… these others are monsters…
I am an object of convenience, nothing more. A tool, and when my usefulness is depleted I shall be cast off for whatever coin he can gain. I must work to make sure I am at least valuable…
~~
(The next several pages continue on for months, nearly a year with notes about opposing elements, types of poisons and how they act in the body. Also notes from harsh experience on how to counter different magics. There are no exact dates, nor much mention of places. The Red Wizard moves around a lot, and gains many enemies as he goes. He seems caught up in many political plots and fears for his life, becoming quite paranoid. During the time with him, she learns to respect magic, gaining a rudimentary understanding for such power and its mechanics)
~~
He’s been experimenting more. We have ‘teleported’ to some place new… colder. He talks about going to Neverwinter from time to time. He always comes back angry… He’s made people mad somehow… He’s so consumed with his experiments and the power.
I hear the screams of the others. The Conditioning… he keeps talking about them dying too easily. I am starting to understand why the Slaver was surprised when the Wizard wanted more slaves… I wonder what he does to the bodies? I see strange things outside at night… they look like… skeletons. I think perhaps I am losing my mind.
~~
Conditioning… The Master thinks I would be good for it. Thinks I will survive it. Says There is something special about me, something related to the weave he wants to tap… I don’t know what he means, but it scares me. He leaves less these days too. Think I am the only one really alive… everyone else is dead. The Master… he seems… less alive somehow, he's changing… It scares me.
~~
A group of wizards showed up… and some shadow walkers… tried to kill him. I almost wished they succeeded. They were angry. He has something they want. He wouldn’t give it to them. Says he deserves it. He was clever enough to obtain it, and he will keep it. I hid. The Master vanished, the golems killed the others. Then they took the bodies down to the lower level. I am not allowed down there. Yet. He means to take me down there tomorrow.
~~
(There are months worth of pages, barely coherent ramblings about many things… nothing that makes sense. Riddles and bits of rhyme, various commands. Talk of endless tests and experiments, some rather morbid musings about death…
Gradually the mentions of death and pain slow… as does the mentions of heat and cold… Several times, seeming out of place:
“Protect the Amulet.”
“Keep the Door Shut!”
“Only the Master…”
The fragments continue for a while, gradually becoming slightly more coherent, but not much. Finally, a single line of text hastily scrawled and written to span a whole page:
It looks as if the writing resumed for a span of time… several days to a month, but there is a jagged edge where these pages have been torn out)
~~
Thesk and Neverwinter
We ‘teleported’ away from Athkatla. He said it was some place called Thesk. Spent days… ‘Establishing my place’ as he put it… what it amounted to was a horrible amount of suffering at the hand of The Master. Never use his name… Never speak out of turn. Never… because it hurts. Never argue… do what I am told… I get to eat well when I behave. I hate this place… He is malevolent and insane with power. There are no doors, he uses that stone to ‘teleport’ out. The windows from the third floor are so very small… allow the view of the countryside. Doesn’t seem to be near any particular city… Of course when you can hop about at a whim… I had best get back to duty. The Golems are looking at me oddly again… hulking metal beasts! I had best get back to my duties.
~~
I spend my days organizing scrolls and notes for The Master. He feeds me well enough and supplies me with comfortable clothing. He is cruel though. His temper is unlike anything I have ever seen. Unfortunately when things go badly, I bear the brunt of his wrath. He is always quick to fix any damage done, as he says
‘I would hate for you to lose value, stupid girl.’
I suppose there are worse fates… though I am loathe to imagine such. At least I have proper parchment and ink to write with. He does not seem to mind my writing, or reading. In fact it seems to my benefit to learn as it affords me less mundane tasks. I am becoming quite adept at treating burns, and removing splinters from whatever bits of furniture get shot out from one mystical mishap to another.
He is always experimenting, and constantly scheming. Someone tried to poison him recently. I was able to counter the toxin. Of course I expected no gratitude, for he knew I aided him out of self preservation, not some false bit of emotional attachment. He merely remarked on my gained knowledge. A passing remark:
‘Learned something useful, hmm?’
Still I took some sense of pride in it. It means I am worth keeping, and thus for now safer than I no doubt could be. Some of the people he spends his time with… I would hate to be a slave to one of the other wizards. For all The Master’s sadistic cruelty and experimentation… these others are monsters…
I am an object of convenience, nothing more. A tool, and when my usefulness is depleted I shall be cast off for whatever coin he can gain. I must work to make sure I am at least valuable…
~~
(The next several pages continue on for months, nearly a year with notes about opposing elements, types of poisons and how they act in the body. Also notes from harsh experience on how to counter different magics. There are no exact dates, nor much mention of places. The Red Wizard moves around a lot, and gains many enemies as he goes. He seems caught up in many political plots and fears for his life, becoming quite paranoid. During the time with him, she learns to respect magic, gaining a rudimentary understanding for such power and its mechanics)
~~
He’s been experimenting more. We have ‘teleported’ to some place new… colder. He talks about going to Neverwinter from time to time. He always comes back angry… He’s made people mad somehow… He’s so consumed with his experiments and the power.
I hear the screams of the others. The Conditioning… he keeps talking about them dying too easily. I am starting to understand why the Slaver was surprised when the Wizard wanted more slaves… I wonder what he does to the bodies? I see strange things outside at night… they look like… skeletons. I think perhaps I am losing my mind.
~~
Conditioning… The Master thinks I would be good for it. Thinks I will survive it. Says There is something special about me, something related to the weave he wants to tap… I don’t know what he means, but it scares me. He leaves less these days too. Think I am the only one really alive… everyone else is dead. The Master… he seems… less alive somehow, he's changing… It scares me.
~~
A group of wizards showed up… and some shadow walkers… tried to kill him. I almost wished they succeeded. They were angry. He has something they want. He wouldn’t give it to them. Says he deserves it. He was clever enough to obtain it, and he will keep it. I hid. The Master vanished, the golems killed the others. Then they took the bodies down to the lower level. I am not allowed down there. Yet. He means to take me down there tomorrow.
~~
(There are months worth of pages, barely coherent ramblings about many things… nothing that makes sense. Riddles and bits of rhyme, various commands. Talk of endless tests and experiments, some rather morbid musings about death…
Gradually the mentions of death and pain slow… as does the mentions of heat and cold… Several times, seeming out of place:
“Protect the Amulet.”
“Keep the Door Shut!”
“Only the Master…”
The fragments continue for a while, gradually becoming slightly more coherent, but not much. Finally, a single line of text hastily scrawled and written to span a whole page:
“Final test tomorrow… must not fail…”
It looks as if the writing resumed for a span of time… several days to a month, but there is a jagged edge where these pages have been torn out)
~~
Last edited by LeslieMS on Fri Mar 11, 2011 2:50 pm, edited 10 times in total.
-
LeslieMS
- Posts: 1076
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:43 pm
- Location: Oklahoma, United States
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
[SIXTH ENTRY]
Assassin!
Leaving Neverwinter
The wizard has been killed…A matter of time I suppose. If it is one thing I have learned it is that Thayans have no shortage of plots and trouble. Least of all this one. I wish I could say my situation has improved... but it hasn't. The tower has been burned. Now we are leaving Neverwinter. My new captor keeps asking about an amulet.
The amulet… Why when I try to think of it does my mind cloud and thought become so difficult? The dark skinned elf who killed him is now dragging me along at a frightful pace. I have very little time as we have stopped for a short rest.
He spoke in whispers to a shady looking sort. Coins were exchanged… He was given a map. I wish I could see it. Maybe know where we were going. He doesn’t talk much… He scares me.
~~
It has been days since I have had proper rest or enough food to quell the hunger in my belly… or is that fear? He speaks in a strange tongue most of the time. He spent hours torturing me for information on the Wizard and his various experiments with poisons and acids and heat and cold.
I give him what little I know and understand in hopes that the cruelty stops, but he delights in my whimpers and cries. I shall be strong and not give him such satisfaction. Or at least that is what I tell myself before the cutting starts…
We traveled through the city and then spent several days down in the sewers. Now he drags me down, down so deep I can not remember what the light looked like. I have lost all track of time. If his periods of rest are any inclination of the passage of day or night, then it has been nearly a month. I barely sleep, and what little food I get is nearly inedible. The air is cloistering, suffocating, damp and cold… There is no warmth… only endless tunnels and walking down, down, down into dark and shadow…
~~
Menzoberranzan, the City of Spiders
(ragged script in jagged lines written in some sort of chalky, dark stone sprawls across remnants of paper and bits of cloth. Blood and other stains color the bits and pieces.)
I have lost all track of time… I cannot remember when I last moved without pain. They ask over and over about the amulet. The ask about The Master. They ask how he got the Amulet from someone named Baenund. I cannot answer them.
I cannot remember the sun, or fresh breezes or the sounds of birds. All I know now is cold and dark and hate. So much hate… so much pain. I have been traded many times… The Drow… I had heard nightmarish tales of the Underdark… the tales pale… so much pain…
~~
Death… they plot and kill and scheme… and I pass from one to the other. A prize, my suffering for the death that came too quickly to the enemy. The primary use for me: my agonized screams. I try everything to not give them the satisfaction of my pain… The pain… a whirl of fire and dark and blackness and pain… seething pain.
~~
(the script gets barely legible, blood dots the bits of parchment and thin cloth written in whatever was available. Sometimes it is little more than smeared symbols that have meaning to some significant event. There are hints that her skill with bandages increases regularly as she gets practice with it. Though they are makeshift bandages, she is at least learning to survive. Occasionally there are words written in Drow with a translation briefly written next to it.)
~~
I tried to count my scars today, my legs and arms seem a layered criss-cross of scars and burns… my back feels like threaded cloth shredded and poorly mended from the whips… leather whips… coated in acid, or burning oil, barbed, corded… they have so many implements with which to cause suffering… they come again… There is no end…
(The writing ends abruptly the word ‘end’ is smeared and the edges of the page are burnt)
~~
House Baenund
My torment has become that of the mind in these days… An assassin in the night, as is the apparent custom, as well as a violent explosion. Still at least now I know enough to know where I am. The tortures continue. I endured much before they finally stopped. Why they stopped I do not know. Memories are painful to recall. What have they done? I can scarcely remember anything. It takes all my will to remain in control of my sanity. So much hate and pain and darkness… was there ever light?
~~
(The pages ramble on about various members about the House. Drow prhases and assumed Common Translations… not accurate at first, and several are changed later. There is talk of a slave who is helping keep her alive. Long rambling passages on a budding friendship with the slave named Xun, a faceless kindness in the dark…)
~~
I find my body wholly left alone and I am kept in a better cell these days. A reward for saving the Matron's daughter from an assassin. The priestesses use me for practicing the use of their mind spells. They also test the wards that they use against the Illithid… It has odd effects.
This always leads to the same questions. They still ask about an amulet. Still ask about The Master and the things he did. My inability to answer leads me to more pain than I dare contemplate… but more often than not I am left alone. Not sure if it is a blessing or not… I have become a plaything of the Matron’s oldest daughter, which affords me cruelty of another sort, but at least the beatings have lessened for now.
~~
The Matron Mother and her precious daughter see fit to use me when they do not wish to dirty their fingers, or waste time on such “trivial matters” I am picking up healing skills quickly, and it seems that somehow my prayers to any deity of goodness and mercy seems to not go unheard. In fact, sometimes I can mend things just by will alone. I am doing my best to hide my newfound ties to the divine as such things could prove dangerous should the Handmaidens find out.
I hear whispers that it would be convenient for me to act as a healer on the raids. To go with the warriors and heal… If I died Lolth would not loose her most faithful, The matron’s daughter. I am expendable, and while the others hate me all the more for it, the Matron has made it clear that she will not risk her daughter .
~~
I am being taught to better mend wounds of the warriors now who go on raids in the surrounding tunnels. I am also learning to counter toxins of various creatures who dwell in this land without light. I see them go on raids in the Illithid tunnels… Some return raving mad and are used to practice torture techniques before being killed by the priestesses of Lolth.
My skill with the Drow tongue has improved… I am now teaching myself to read the language. I have stolen a few books that were discarded. Xun continues to help me, constantly positioning me so that my chances of survival increase. He may be the only kindness in this place… I just wish… to see his face and know who this kind voice is in the darkness.
~~
There was an assassination attempt today… many wounds to heal, and many deadly poisons to fight. If the Matron Mother had not threatened to feed me to the Driders… I would let them all die… Perhaps the Driders are not so bad… Perhaps… or perhaps the fates shall look kindly on me some day, aiding the Drow out of need and survival? At least… when I die… I can die in clear conscience.
I never should have killed my first master. If ever it could be said that the Hells existed below the Surface… I believe it. Sometimes, amid the nightmares… there are dreams of sunlight. I hear a woman's laughter, a baby crying… a scent of flowers… so different from the smells of these dank tunnels… Then I wake, and it was nothing more than a fleeting comfort.
~~
Assassin!
Leaving Neverwinter
The wizard has been killed…A matter of time I suppose. If it is one thing I have learned it is that Thayans have no shortage of plots and trouble. Least of all this one. I wish I could say my situation has improved... but it hasn't. The tower has been burned. Now we are leaving Neverwinter. My new captor keeps asking about an amulet.
The amulet… Why when I try to think of it does my mind cloud and thought become so difficult? The dark skinned elf who killed him is now dragging me along at a frightful pace. I have very little time as we have stopped for a short rest.
He spoke in whispers to a shady looking sort. Coins were exchanged… He was given a map. I wish I could see it. Maybe know where we were going. He doesn’t talk much… He scares me.
~~
It has been days since I have had proper rest or enough food to quell the hunger in my belly… or is that fear? He speaks in a strange tongue most of the time. He spent hours torturing me for information on the Wizard and his various experiments with poisons and acids and heat and cold.
I give him what little I know and understand in hopes that the cruelty stops, but he delights in my whimpers and cries. I shall be strong and not give him such satisfaction. Or at least that is what I tell myself before the cutting starts…
We traveled through the city and then spent several days down in the sewers. Now he drags me down, down so deep I can not remember what the light looked like. I have lost all track of time. If his periods of rest are any inclination of the passage of day or night, then it has been nearly a month. I barely sleep, and what little food I get is nearly inedible. The air is cloistering, suffocating, damp and cold… There is no warmth… only endless tunnels and walking down, down, down into dark and shadow…
~~
Menzoberranzan, the City of Spiders
(ragged script in jagged lines written in some sort of chalky, dark stone sprawls across remnants of paper and bits of cloth. Blood and other stains color the bits and pieces.)
I have lost all track of time… I cannot remember when I last moved without pain. They ask over and over about the amulet. The ask about The Master. They ask how he got the Amulet from someone named Baenund. I cannot answer them.
I cannot remember the sun, or fresh breezes or the sounds of birds. All I know now is cold and dark and hate. So much hate… so much pain. I have been traded many times… The Drow… I had heard nightmarish tales of the Underdark… the tales pale… so much pain…
~~
Death… they plot and kill and scheme… and I pass from one to the other. A prize, my suffering for the death that came too quickly to the enemy. The primary use for me: my agonized screams. I try everything to not give them the satisfaction of my pain… The pain… a whirl of fire and dark and blackness and pain… seething pain.
~~
(the script gets barely legible, blood dots the bits of parchment and thin cloth written in whatever was available. Sometimes it is little more than smeared symbols that have meaning to some significant event. There are hints that her skill with bandages increases regularly as she gets practice with it. Though they are makeshift bandages, she is at least learning to survive. Occasionally there are words written in Drow with a translation briefly written next to it.)
~~
I tried to count my scars today, my legs and arms seem a layered criss-cross of scars and burns… my back feels like threaded cloth shredded and poorly mended from the whips… leather whips… coated in acid, or burning oil, barbed, corded… they have so many implements with which to cause suffering… they come again… There is no end…
(The writing ends abruptly the word ‘end’ is smeared and the edges of the page are burnt)
~~
House Baenund
My torment has become that of the mind in these days… An assassin in the night, as is the apparent custom, as well as a violent explosion. Still at least now I know enough to know where I am. The tortures continue. I endured much before they finally stopped. Why they stopped I do not know. Memories are painful to recall. What have they done? I can scarcely remember anything. It takes all my will to remain in control of my sanity. So much hate and pain and darkness… was there ever light?
~~
(The pages ramble on about various members about the House. Drow prhases and assumed Common Translations… not accurate at first, and several are changed later. There is talk of a slave who is helping keep her alive. Long rambling passages on a budding friendship with the slave named Xun, a faceless kindness in the dark…)
~~
I find my body wholly left alone and I am kept in a better cell these days. A reward for saving the Matron's daughter from an assassin. The priestesses use me for practicing the use of their mind spells. They also test the wards that they use against the Illithid… It has odd effects.
This always leads to the same questions. They still ask about an amulet. Still ask about The Master and the things he did. My inability to answer leads me to more pain than I dare contemplate… but more often than not I am left alone. Not sure if it is a blessing or not… I have become a plaything of the Matron’s oldest daughter, which affords me cruelty of another sort, but at least the beatings have lessened for now.
~~
The Matron Mother and her precious daughter see fit to use me when they do not wish to dirty their fingers, or waste time on such “trivial matters” I am picking up healing skills quickly, and it seems that somehow my prayers to any deity of goodness and mercy seems to not go unheard. In fact, sometimes I can mend things just by will alone. I am doing my best to hide my newfound ties to the divine as such things could prove dangerous should the Handmaidens find out.
I hear whispers that it would be convenient for me to act as a healer on the raids. To go with the warriors and heal… If I died Lolth would not loose her most faithful, The matron’s daughter. I am expendable, and while the others hate me all the more for it, the Matron has made it clear that she will not risk her daughter .
~~
I am being taught to better mend wounds of the warriors now who go on raids in the surrounding tunnels. I am also learning to counter toxins of various creatures who dwell in this land without light. I see them go on raids in the Illithid tunnels… Some return raving mad and are used to practice torture techniques before being killed by the priestesses of Lolth.
My skill with the Drow tongue has improved… I am now teaching myself to read the language. I have stolen a few books that were discarded. Xun continues to help me, constantly positioning me so that my chances of survival increase. He may be the only kindness in this place… I just wish… to see his face and know who this kind voice is in the darkness.
~~
There was an assassination attempt today… many wounds to heal, and many deadly poisons to fight. If the Matron Mother had not threatened to feed me to the Driders… I would let them all die… Perhaps the Driders are not so bad… Perhaps… or perhaps the fates shall look kindly on me some day, aiding the Drow out of need and survival? At least… when I die… I can die in clear conscience.
I never should have killed my first master. If ever it could be said that the Hells existed below the Surface… I believe it. Sometimes, amid the nightmares… there are dreams of sunlight. I hear a woman's laughter, a baby crying… a scent of flowers… so different from the smells of these dank tunnels… Then I wake, and it was nothing more than a fleeting comfort.
~~
Last edited by LeslieMS on Fri Mar 11, 2011 2:51 pm, edited 6 times in total.
"Play nice." Mum
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
-
LeslieMS
- Posts: 1076
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:43 pm
- Location: Oklahoma, United States
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
[SEVENTH ENTRY]
Raiding Party
I must not let the hate and anger of the Drow infect my heart. Something seems to urge me to these thoughts. I can’t explain it… but it seems right. I am content to head this conscience that has found me. I heal them now when it is required of me. I have gotten good at stitching shut the wounds that gape, and barely leave scarring.
The Matron Mother seems pleased with my progressed skills at mending wounds. If such a thing can be said... that she would be pleased with anything I do. Xun is pleased that I am progressing in the ranks. He says I do well. Indeed he may be right. I am being fed better now, especially since most of the House priestesses were killed in the assassination attempt on the Matron Mother. I cannot say that I have enjoyed my tutelage under the priestesses, but at least it is proving useful.
Ssapvyraeavin is now the only priestess of the Spider in House Baenund, but hardly likely to go on the Matron Mother’s errands to heal her ‘incompetent mercenaries’. Most days I do the work stitching wounds, mixing potions to combat diseases and poisons.
~~
Xun is… not what I expected. He told me his story. Showed me his face. Said it was time for me to understand the things that would save my life. I listened quietly as he spoke, those rare moments when we were left alone in the late hours of the Cycle. He calls me his Soft Hope… says I will accomplish much if I listen to him. Strange after so many months to see his face. To know his nature… and still not fear him. I have no reason to doubt that he means me no ill. He has been nothing but kind to me. Guard of my Heart. My protector. Not a lover… though I love him. A saving grace, this emotional attachment, in this … dark and detached place…
He also says that… soon… he will die. That I must make ready. Trust him. He took my hand as he often did, that simple, kind gesture, kissed my fingers and smiled as he spoke of his coming end. He thanked me for being his light. I wonder if I should have said something else, but I did not. I stood, and watched him walk away… knowing if I were to survive, I must begin the tasks he had set me to. Shadows were coming, he had said. Shadows in a world of darkness.
~~
There is talk of me being sent with a surface raiding party… a group of warriors and a roguish sort and this time, the Matron‘s daughter. I am being sent because I am disposable… I will probably go so the priestess does not have to dirty her fingers. Such is the custom, Lolth’s Hand-Maidens are well revered, and feared with good reason. Our purpose is to gather supplies, slaves and other needs to replenish that which the recent disputes with other Houses have caused shortages on.
~~
(The next several passages detail the travels of the raiding parties, and encounters with many denizens of the Underdark. The raiding party attacks and destroys, taking what they want and leaving death in their wake. It goes on like this for some time, with breaks from the normal monotony of writing to mention torture when they grew frustrated with their work. There is mention of The Matron's youngest son being… less picky about his methods of easing his own anger and irritation. Things become more fragmented for a period of time.
Meri can guess that her age is roughly 21 yrs at this point)
~~
The Tunnels
I caught a glimpse of Sunlight! A small exit shaft with an opening to daylight! Daylight… I stood and stared at that bright shaft of light. I memorized every bit of sensation about it. It gained me a sound beating indeed for standing and ignoring instructions, but I was able to mend my wounds well enough. It was worth it… Real Sunlight! I cannot put into words the significance of that. I did not know we were so close to the surface.
~~
Nearer to the Surface
The Drow who I have traveled with these many months have banded with other cruelties of the Underdark and have taken up residence in a large cavern very near the surface. They talk of raiding merchant caravans on the way to Trademeet, the talk of schemes and skimming off the top of the profits that should be returned to the Priestesses and sent back to the Matron… If they were to find out of such things many of the leeches would die… I am tempted to use the information, but it would no doubt end badly for me… at the moment I am safe as it were. I must remember to be patient.
“There will come a time when you must wait, Sel’tur Kestal. See the light and wait!”
~~
So many of them go on raids now days that I am hardly paid mind to unless they need a healer. I have learned to make balms for wounds in my own time. I was also taught a few simple prayers to light the darkness, and aid in the mending of wounds by a fellow slave. I fear for her life, she is a follower of Tyr, and the Drow seem to loathe her more than any other.
She slipped me a stack of parchments and some ink and a quill in thanks for helping her. She noticed I like to write. She and I have become friends of sorts. She is a plaything for the Drow, especially Izzin. As I mend her wounds caused by her torturers, she tells me stories of life on the surface.
Apparently we are but a days travel from an exit to the surface, and another day or so away from a caravan route. It would seem this ideal location is where they have set up for an extended raiding operation. The Matron Mother was more desperate for supplies than I thought, or she really is losing her mind as the others suggest.
~~
Raiding Party
I must not let the hate and anger of the Drow infect my heart. Something seems to urge me to these thoughts. I can’t explain it… but it seems right. I am content to head this conscience that has found me. I heal them now when it is required of me. I have gotten good at stitching shut the wounds that gape, and barely leave scarring.
The Matron Mother seems pleased with my progressed skills at mending wounds. If such a thing can be said... that she would be pleased with anything I do. Xun is pleased that I am progressing in the ranks. He says I do well. Indeed he may be right. I am being fed better now, especially since most of the House priestesses were killed in the assassination attempt on the Matron Mother. I cannot say that I have enjoyed my tutelage under the priestesses, but at least it is proving useful.
Ssapvyraeavin is now the only priestess of the Spider in House Baenund, but hardly likely to go on the Matron Mother’s errands to heal her ‘incompetent mercenaries’. Most days I do the work stitching wounds, mixing potions to combat diseases and poisons.
~~
Xun is… not what I expected. He told me his story. Showed me his face. Said it was time for me to understand the things that would save my life. I listened quietly as he spoke, those rare moments when we were left alone in the late hours of the Cycle. He calls me his Soft Hope… says I will accomplish much if I listen to him. Strange after so many months to see his face. To know his nature… and still not fear him. I have no reason to doubt that he means me no ill. He has been nothing but kind to me. Guard of my Heart. My protector. Not a lover… though I love him. A saving grace, this emotional attachment, in this … dark and detached place…
He also says that… soon… he will die. That I must make ready. Trust him. He took my hand as he often did, that simple, kind gesture, kissed my fingers and smiled as he spoke of his coming end. He thanked me for being his light. I wonder if I should have said something else, but I did not. I stood, and watched him walk away… knowing if I were to survive, I must begin the tasks he had set me to. Shadows were coming, he had said. Shadows in a world of darkness.
~~
There is talk of me being sent with a surface raiding party… a group of warriors and a roguish sort and this time, the Matron‘s daughter. I am being sent because I am disposable… I will probably go so the priestess does not have to dirty her fingers. Such is the custom, Lolth’s Hand-Maidens are well revered, and feared with good reason. Our purpose is to gather supplies, slaves and other needs to replenish that which the recent disputes with other Houses have caused shortages on.
~~
(The next several passages detail the travels of the raiding parties, and encounters with many denizens of the Underdark. The raiding party attacks and destroys, taking what they want and leaving death in their wake. It goes on like this for some time, with breaks from the normal monotony of writing to mention torture when they grew frustrated with their work. There is mention of The Matron's youngest son being… less picky about his methods of easing his own anger and irritation. Things become more fragmented for a period of time.
Meri can guess that her age is roughly 21 yrs at this point)
~~
The Tunnels
I caught a glimpse of Sunlight! A small exit shaft with an opening to daylight! Daylight… I stood and stared at that bright shaft of light. I memorized every bit of sensation about it. It gained me a sound beating indeed for standing and ignoring instructions, but I was able to mend my wounds well enough. It was worth it… Real Sunlight! I cannot put into words the significance of that. I did not know we were so close to the surface.
~~
Nearer to the Surface
The Drow who I have traveled with these many months have banded with other cruelties of the Underdark and have taken up residence in a large cavern very near the surface. They talk of raiding merchant caravans on the way to Trademeet, the talk of schemes and skimming off the top of the profits that should be returned to the Priestesses and sent back to the Matron… If they were to find out of such things many of the leeches would die… I am tempted to use the information, but it would no doubt end badly for me… at the moment I am safe as it were. I must remember to be patient.
“There will come a time when you must wait, Sel’tur Kestal. See the light and wait!”
~~
So many of them go on raids now days that I am hardly paid mind to unless they need a healer. I have learned to make balms for wounds in my own time. I was also taught a few simple prayers to light the darkness, and aid in the mending of wounds by a fellow slave. I fear for her life, she is a follower of Tyr, and the Drow seem to loathe her more than any other.
She slipped me a stack of parchments and some ink and a quill in thanks for helping her. She noticed I like to write. She and I have become friends of sorts. She is a plaything for the Drow, especially Izzin. As I mend her wounds caused by her torturers, she tells me stories of life on the surface.
Apparently we are but a days travel from an exit to the surface, and another day or so away from a caravan route. It would seem this ideal location is where they have set up for an extended raiding operation. The Matron Mother was more desperate for supplies than I thought, or she really is losing her mind as the others suggest.
~~
Last edited by LeslieMS on Fri Mar 11, 2011 2:53 pm, edited 6 times in total.
-
LeslieMS
- Posts: 1076
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:43 pm
- Location: Oklahoma, United States
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
[EIGHTH ENTRY]
Izzinidia'drin
They have started taking on more slaves now, killing less of those they encounter above. The slaves will be taken back to Menzoberranzan with a large group of guards. This will cut the number down by nearly a third. Many are going to the surface and not returning…
It would seem that the Surfacers have started beefing up caravan guards… There are even rumors of a vigilante group nearly reaching the cavern. Could freedom truly be so close at hand? It is a strange thing to entertain such hopes, but I find myself unable to not. As the number of Drow decrease, and the slaves like myself growing stronger, maybe, just maybe, we can be rid of these awful Drow once and for all… or die in the attempted escape.
~~
I have been tending the slaves these days. I bear the wrath of the Drow for them and aid them when I can. I have been caught twice sneaking them extra food… the pain from the beatings are unbelievable, but I would not do any different… In offering them such kindness, I find peace and hope. It is hard to explain what compels me to do so, but I feel it more than mere compassion… I feel urged to act. I am learning better control over the divine gifts I have discovered. The prayers to the Triad that the Tyrran, Ophelia taught me are helping. She is dead sadly… Izzin killed her to simply deny me her company. He hates me. I think it safe to say I hate him in turn.
~~
(The next 2 months of entries detail the lives of a few slaves she has befriended, and the activity of the Drow, whose number is steadily dwindling, and the various successes of raids on Surfacer caravans.)
~~
The Drow have dwindled to less than 3 or 4 dozen… many are talking of leaving and returning to various corners of the Underdark. Very few remain of the original number that walked with us from the City of Spiders. Izzin has grown quite fond of tormenting me on his bad days… He despises that things are starting to go badly on the surface raids. He says they haven’t gathered enough to please the Matron.
Serves him right. She would love to hear her youngest son had failed her again. I hope she hears of it. Forgive me, I know I shouldn't think that way. May his end be quick at least if his Mother finds out how he has fallen short. Though I doubt he will be granted any kindness.
Torture seems to be the favored pastime next to scheming for the Drow, but he enjoys torture of the mind and soul more than that of the body. He forces me to watch him slowly cut and poison other slaves, and since he targets those I seem fondest of, I have pushed them all away. I show no care to them, but continue to aid them in secret. I risk my death each time I aid them, but I do not care… How I long for peace from the darkness and the agony… but it is my heart that hurts the most. I am past my Twentieth year and I long for peace… be it in death or otherwise… I long for peace…
~~
Izzinidia'drin
They have started taking on more slaves now, killing less of those they encounter above. The slaves will be taken back to Menzoberranzan with a large group of guards. This will cut the number down by nearly a third. Many are going to the surface and not returning…
It would seem that the Surfacers have started beefing up caravan guards… There are even rumors of a vigilante group nearly reaching the cavern. Could freedom truly be so close at hand? It is a strange thing to entertain such hopes, but I find myself unable to not. As the number of Drow decrease, and the slaves like myself growing stronger, maybe, just maybe, we can be rid of these awful Drow once and for all… or die in the attempted escape.
~~
I have been tending the slaves these days. I bear the wrath of the Drow for them and aid them when I can. I have been caught twice sneaking them extra food… the pain from the beatings are unbelievable, but I would not do any different… In offering them such kindness, I find peace and hope. It is hard to explain what compels me to do so, but I feel it more than mere compassion… I feel urged to act. I am learning better control over the divine gifts I have discovered. The prayers to the Triad that the Tyrran, Ophelia taught me are helping. She is dead sadly… Izzin killed her to simply deny me her company. He hates me. I think it safe to say I hate him in turn.
~~
(The next 2 months of entries detail the lives of a few slaves she has befriended, and the activity of the Drow, whose number is steadily dwindling, and the various successes of raids on Surfacer caravans.)
~~
The Drow have dwindled to less than 3 or 4 dozen… many are talking of leaving and returning to various corners of the Underdark. Very few remain of the original number that walked with us from the City of Spiders. Izzin has grown quite fond of tormenting me on his bad days… He despises that things are starting to go badly on the surface raids. He says they haven’t gathered enough to please the Matron.
Serves him right. She would love to hear her youngest son had failed her again. I hope she hears of it. Forgive me, I know I shouldn't think that way. May his end be quick at least if his Mother finds out how he has fallen short. Though I doubt he will be granted any kindness.
Torture seems to be the favored pastime next to scheming for the Drow, but he enjoys torture of the mind and soul more than that of the body. He forces me to watch him slowly cut and poison other slaves, and since he targets those I seem fondest of, I have pushed them all away. I show no care to them, but continue to aid them in secret. I risk my death each time I aid them, but I do not care… How I long for peace from the darkness and the agony… but it is my heart that hurts the most. I am past my Twentieth year and I long for peace… be it in death or otherwise… I long for peace…
~~
Last edited by LeslieMS on Fri Mar 11, 2011 2:54 pm, edited 4 times in total.
"Play nice." Mum
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
-
LeslieMS
- Posts: 1076
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:43 pm
- Location: Oklahoma, United States
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
[NINTH ENTRY]
Jhanbryn'da
There is rumor among some of the newly captured slaves of mercenaries and adventurers alike being called to Trademeet to set out to find the ‘Root of the Drow who torment the caravan trade routes’ A matter of time… It is only myself and a few slaves now. The Drow number to a little over two dozen. They are organized however, and highly efficient at causing death and destruction above.
Izzin is now the only surviving member of the group I first came here with, and has become the unofficial leader of the raiders. Without a priestess alive and well in the ranks of the Drow, my skills are now almost valued if such a thing can be said for I am still little more than Rothé. I am treated better by slave standards I suppose, but still victim to Izzin’s cruelties… Though his time is now divided between my torment and his new plaything, the concubine, Jhanbryn'da.
She hangs on him like the sickly smell of decay and rot in the Fungi tunnels. She arrived with a few reinforcements from the Matron Mother, who apparently wishes more raids to continue. There is something different about those that came with her, though I cannot say what.
She looks at me strangely from time to time… and I know not what her gaze holds secret.
~~
The Drow grow more nervous as each day passes… the number is less than two dozen now, and supplies are low. It is getting harder to gain anything from the passing caravans. There are now only four of us. A few of them escaped a few days ago. From the mutterings among the other Drow they really escaped! I truly hope so. Many are talking of leaving because they fear retaliation from the Surfacers. Work has been light for the slaves, and we are largely left alone. The others have been humoring my curiosity for surface life. The mundane tasks that they take for granted, I imagine with an almost as a child would a fairy tale…
~~
Jhanbryn'da is up to something… I followed her as she snuck away from camp last night. I admit it was likely foolish, but there is something about her and it begs me to unravel its mystery. I saw her speaking with a Surfacer. They were near an exit… so close that I could see shafts of moonlight fall on the cave floor in which they stood… I could hear the night sounds of the forest… it was the sweetest sound I ever remember hearing.
Not wanting to be caught or cause more trouble. I hurried back to camp, to my knowledge She did not notice I had followed. No doubt some Drow scheme. An assassination plot? Why care for the slaves? I wonder what she is up to? And with a Surfacer no less? What could it mean? Some sort of plot to finally end Baenund once and for all?
~~
She knows I saw her yesterday… and her eyes told me to hold my tongue and my thoughts, or a promise of pain waited me. How do I know this? Drow women can speak with gestures and looks. Her look spoke volumes. Yet she did not bid me away, instead I stood quietly, just out of sight.
I watched her enter Izzinidia'drin’s bedchamber. I lingered and contemplated the meaning of what was at work here. I heard him greet her, then a scuffle of some sort, and then nothing but her quiet, cold laugh. Roused from my wonderings I made my way back along the tunnels.
She caught me near the main cavern. At first I feared her wrath, but as she grabbed me, I did not have time to react. She dragged me to my palette with such force and ferocity that I was truly afraid… my wrist bruised. I was fairly certain that she would kill me for seeing something I shouldn’t have. I knew she had killed Izzin. Part if me wanted to thank her.
Once in my tent, she said nothing as she tossed me down to my bedroll. I opened my mouth to speak, though I know not what it was I had planned to say. She raised a finger to her lips and spoke in a hushed whisper. I was told to gather the dry rations and the other slaves, and move quickly to the storage alcove and wait.
‘Wait for what?’
Her response was one word, spoken flatly and with no emotion, but for me it carried more hope than I dared hold in years.
‘Retribution.‘
The word echoed in my mind as I gathered food and woke the others. So this is what she was speaking to the Surfacer about? Was she truly sent by the Matron Mother? I feared her wrath should I not obey. My questioning look was met with her cold stare... I complied with her wishes and wondered silently to myself... After all, if we truly were being handed over to another House, there was no way that they could be worse than Baenund if they wished us fed. Still, this felt different than other Drow schemes.
We moved with a quickness and urgency, and silence was the thread that held it all together. We do not know what exactly we are waiting for, only that we did not want to be near our captors as they slept. I am writing now as we hide behind boxes of supplies. The last thing I saw before we covered ourselves with a large tarp was Jhanbryn'da killing the two guards and fleeing away from the cavern in the direction of the surface exit…
Myself and the others exchanged looks and spoke not a word as we waited nearly breathless… and now I finish writing wondering indeed what the future holds, Death or Freedom… Not likely… but the promise of kinder masters… that alone was enough to hope for
~~
Jhanbryn'da
There is rumor among some of the newly captured slaves of mercenaries and adventurers alike being called to Trademeet to set out to find the ‘Root of the Drow who torment the caravan trade routes’ A matter of time… It is only myself and a few slaves now. The Drow number to a little over two dozen. They are organized however, and highly efficient at causing death and destruction above.
Izzin is now the only surviving member of the group I first came here with, and has become the unofficial leader of the raiders. Without a priestess alive and well in the ranks of the Drow, my skills are now almost valued if such a thing can be said for I am still little more than Rothé. I am treated better by slave standards I suppose, but still victim to Izzin’s cruelties… Though his time is now divided between my torment and his new plaything, the concubine, Jhanbryn'da.
She hangs on him like the sickly smell of decay and rot in the Fungi tunnels. She arrived with a few reinforcements from the Matron Mother, who apparently wishes more raids to continue. There is something different about those that came with her, though I cannot say what.
She looks at me strangely from time to time… and I know not what her gaze holds secret.
~~
The Drow grow more nervous as each day passes… the number is less than two dozen now, and supplies are low. It is getting harder to gain anything from the passing caravans. There are now only four of us. A few of them escaped a few days ago. From the mutterings among the other Drow they really escaped! I truly hope so. Many are talking of leaving because they fear retaliation from the Surfacers. Work has been light for the slaves, and we are largely left alone. The others have been humoring my curiosity for surface life. The mundane tasks that they take for granted, I imagine with an almost as a child would a fairy tale…
~~
Jhanbryn'da is up to something… I followed her as she snuck away from camp last night. I admit it was likely foolish, but there is something about her and it begs me to unravel its mystery. I saw her speaking with a Surfacer. They were near an exit… so close that I could see shafts of moonlight fall on the cave floor in which they stood… I could hear the night sounds of the forest… it was the sweetest sound I ever remember hearing.
Not wanting to be caught or cause more trouble. I hurried back to camp, to my knowledge She did not notice I had followed. No doubt some Drow scheme. An assassination plot? Why care for the slaves? I wonder what she is up to? And with a Surfacer no less? What could it mean? Some sort of plot to finally end Baenund once and for all?
~~
She knows I saw her yesterday… and her eyes told me to hold my tongue and my thoughts, or a promise of pain waited me. How do I know this? Drow women can speak with gestures and looks. Her look spoke volumes. Yet she did not bid me away, instead I stood quietly, just out of sight.
I watched her enter Izzinidia'drin’s bedchamber. I lingered and contemplated the meaning of what was at work here. I heard him greet her, then a scuffle of some sort, and then nothing but her quiet, cold laugh. Roused from my wonderings I made my way back along the tunnels.
She caught me near the main cavern. At first I feared her wrath, but as she grabbed me, I did not have time to react. She dragged me to my palette with such force and ferocity that I was truly afraid… my wrist bruised. I was fairly certain that she would kill me for seeing something I shouldn’t have. I knew she had killed Izzin. Part if me wanted to thank her.
Once in my tent, she said nothing as she tossed me down to my bedroll. I opened my mouth to speak, though I know not what it was I had planned to say. She raised a finger to her lips and spoke in a hushed whisper. I was told to gather the dry rations and the other slaves, and move quickly to the storage alcove and wait.
‘Wait for what?’
Her response was one word, spoken flatly and with no emotion, but for me it carried more hope than I dared hold in years.
‘Retribution.‘
The word echoed in my mind as I gathered food and woke the others. So this is what she was speaking to the Surfacer about? Was she truly sent by the Matron Mother? I feared her wrath should I not obey. My questioning look was met with her cold stare... I complied with her wishes and wondered silently to myself... After all, if we truly were being handed over to another House, there was no way that they could be worse than Baenund if they wished us fed. Still, this felt different than other Drow schemes.
We moved with a quickness and urgency, and silence was the thread that held it all together. We do not know what exactly we are waiting for, only that we did not want to be near our captors as they slept. I am writing now as we hide behind boxes of supplies. The last thing I saw before we covered ourselves with a large tarp was Jhanbryn'da killing the two guards and fleeing away from the cavern in the direction of the surface exit…
Myself and the others exchanged looks and spoke not a word as we waited nearly breathless… and now I finish writing wondering indeed what the future holds, Death or Freedom… Not likely… but the promise of kinder masters… that alone was enough to hope for
~~
Last edited by LeslieMS on Fri Mar 11, 2011 2:56 pm, edited 3 times in total.
"Play nice." Mum
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
-
LeslieMS
- Posts: 1076
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:43 pm
- Location: Oklahoma, United States
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
[TENTH ENTRY]
Retribution
Where to start? It has only been two days, but it feels as though time stopped for a bit between now and then. I sit warm and safe, with a full belly and well bathed. For the first time in years I have slept for more than an hour at a time without pain or worry or fear…
We had waited as Jhanbryn'da had instructed for ‘retribution‘. It came swift and without mercy some hours later. A soft shuffle was heard, and I peeked out. I saw 5 figures approaching the camp in the Cavern. The guards were of course, already dead, and they approached the camp without making a sound hardly at all. Had we not been watching for something… we would have never known.
We watched in silence as a tall elderly figure in robes read from a scroll, and in an instant the group was barely visible. I watched a figure clothed head to toe in gray whisper and wave his arms… all at once the whole of the camp seemed to burst into flame! The screams of the Drow echoed off the damp stone, and those few that the flame spared were quickly cut down by an armored man wielding a sword sheathed in flame and a woman who fought with naught but her hands.
A small fellow wielding two blades spotted me from my hiding place as I watched the spectacle, mouth agape. I scarcely registered that he spoke to the tall elderly sort before he disappeared at a wave of the old man’s hand! I recognized the spark of arcane magic at work but had not time to form a thought. The next thing I knew the Halfling was at my back holding a blade to my throat. He led me out, the others managed to stay hidden. I cast them a look warning them to stay down, praying they understood. I was frightened as I was led from my hiding place. I did not understand the intention of these new comers, and the display of power had certainly given me pause. More slavers? Or another assassination plot? Perhaps a rescue? Dare I hope? Without thinking I addressed the Halfling at my back in Drow tongue:
'What is it you want?’
I cursed the fear that caught in my voice, and realized as the blade drew nearer my throat that I had addressed him in Drow. The others turned to face us, and I glanced them over, hoping that they were of virtuous hearts. The man clad in grey moved to speak first. He addressed me in Undercommon… the slave’s tongue.
‘Do you speak Common girl?’
I tried to nod, but the dagger at my throat nicked my skin, a tiny bead of blood forming. I winced slightly, but felt the pressure of the dagger ease. I took a slow breath before I spoke.
‘I do. Not very well of late… Tell me, since I am at your mercy now, and not the Drow… is this redemption or damnation?’
The words came slowly, but not forgotten, the accent thick with Undercommon. I regarded the strangers warily, my breath held. The gray clad man motioned to the Halfling, his face taking on a softer expression. The dagger fell away from my throat completely, and only then did I dare to breathe properly again. The man in grey spoke softly, and his words were quick to reassure, and in Common now.
‘We are not your enemies child.’
I looked around at the dead Drow, some burnt, some bleeding mortally, and for an instant had to fight the urge to begin tending the wounded. The man in gray shook his head. I looked at the faces of each stranger in turn. The man in gray wore a cleric’s robes, the woman beside him had the same holy symbol around her neck, both were held by red cord. There was the warrior with shinning armor splattered with blood and bits of flesh and gore. The elderly man wore the robes of a mage, and regarded everything around him with an air of superiority and boredom.
I moved past the Halfling, saying nothing, and motioned the others out of hiding. I remained between the strangers and the others, intent on protecting them somehow. The man clad in armor let out an exclamation as he spotted the others, the look on his face both surprised and relieved as he removed his helmet. He was young, but his eyes held a fierce sort of determination.
‘By Lathander… look Dracius! The missing merchant and the guardsmen who went missing months ago!’
The woman spoke in a soft voice, that was both soothing and even.
‘Look at them, the poor dears…Come let us get them all out of here.’
The others nodded in agreement. We were offered food and water as we made our way out of the tunnels. They were indeed a rescue mission of sorts, but mostly to stop the raids on the caravans.
Dracius was a priest of Ilmater from Trademeet, and Iliara a monk of the same God, came from nearby Trademeet to investigate the attacks. Peter, the paladin who paid homage to Lathander was somehow related to three of the other captives, and was overjoyed to see them safe.
The wizard, a rather egotistical man, was named ‘Daven Mollard the Fourth, mage for hire extraordinaire!’ and his rather comical Halfling companion Regis ‘Blackblade’ were traveling mercenaries. The mage and the Halfling were willing to accompany the group back to the small village where three of the other captives were from, there we would rest for the night before setting off to town of Trademeet. Tonight I shall sleep in a real bed…
I wonder if I shall ever come across Jhanbryn'da again? Regardless of her motives I do wish to thank her for the opportunity she presented me… I could not help but wonder of Xun’s words… He never said what came after the light…
~~
Travel to Trademeet
It is like some dream I have walked into… grander than a dream… I am breathing in fresh morning air and my greatest fear is Regis’ cooking. Speaking of which it smells as if breakfast is in need of my saving… Thank goodness I can cook, or we may all starve as Daven swears we will.
~~
(The next several entries are rather uneventful with the exception of Regis and Daven deciding to travel to the north with a group of mercenaries, leaving Meri in the happy company of Dracius and Iliara. The other slaves had decided to stay behind in the village. There are entries that ramble on of thoughts and expectations of Trademeet, and endless delights in simple things like sunsets and sunrises, or squirrels and bees and other simplicities taken for granted by others more used to such mundane bits. She would spend nearly a tenday in wonder. The entries are full of comparisons and notes.)
~~
Retribution
Where to start? It has only been two days, but it feels as though time stopped for a bit between now and then. I sit warm and safe, with a full belly and well bathed. For the first time in years I have slept for more than an hour at a time without pain or worry or fear…
We had waited as Jhanbryn'da had instructed for ‘retribution‘. It came swift and without mercy some hours later. A soft shuffle was heard, and I peeked out. I saw 5 figures approaching the camp in the Cavern. The guards were of course, already dead, and they approached the camp without making a sound hardly at all. Had we not been watching for something… we would have never known.
We watched in silence as a tall elderly figure in robes read from a scroll, and in an instant the group was barely visible. I watched a figure clothed head to toe in gray whisper and wave his arms… all at once the whole of the camp seemed to burst into flame! The screams of the Drow echoed off the damp stone, and those few that the flame spared were quickly cut down by an armored man wielding a sword sheathed in flame and a woman who fought with naught but her hands.
A small fellow wielding two blades spotted me from my hiding place as I watched the spectacle, mouth agape. I scarcely registered that he spoke to the tall elderly sort before he disappeared at a wave of the old man’s hand! I recognized the spark of arcane magic at work but had not time to form a thought. The next thing I knew the Halfling was at my back holding a blade to my throat. He led me out, the others managed to stay hidden. I cast them a look warning them to stay down, praying they understood. I was frightened as I was led from my hiding place. I did not understand the intention of these new comers, and the display of power had certainly given me pause. More slavers? Or another assassination plot? Perhaps a rescue? Dare I hope? Without thinking I addressed the Halfling at my back in Drow tongue:
'What is it you want?’
I cursed the fear that caught in my voice, and realized as the blade drew nearer my throat that I had addressed him in Drow. The others turned to face us, and I glanced them over, hoping that they were of virtuous hearts. The man clad in grey moved to speak first. He addressed me in Undercommon… the slave’s tongue.
‘Do you speak Common girl?’
I tried to nod, but the dagger at my throat nicked my skin, a tiny bead of blood forming. I winced slightly, but felt the pressure of the dagger ease. I took a slow breath before I spoke.
‘I do. Not very well of late… Tell me, since I am at your mercy now, and not the Drow… is this redemption or damnation?’
The words came slowly, but not forgotten, the accent thick with Undercommon. I regarded the strangers warily, my breath held. The gray clad man motioned to the Halfling, his face taking on a softer expression. The dagger fell away from my throat completely, and only then did I dare to breathe properly again. The man in grey spoke softly, and his words were quick to reassure, and in Common now.
‘We are not your enemies child.’
I looked around at the dead Drow, some burnt, some bleeding mortally, and for an instant had to fight the urge to begin tending the wounded. The man in gray shook his head. I looked at the faces of each stranger in turn. The man in gray wore a cleric’s robes, the woman beside him had the same holy symbol around her neck, both were held by red cord. There was the warrior with shinning armor splattered with blood and bits of flesh and gore. The elderly man wore the robes of a mage, and regarded everything around him with an air of superiority and boredom.
I moved past the Halfling, saying nothing, and motioned the others out of hiding. I remained between the strangers and the others, intent on protecting them somehow. The man clad in armor let out an exclamation as he spotted the others, the look on his face both surprised and relieved as he removed his helmet. He was young, but his eyes held a fierce sort of determination.
‘By Lathander… look Dracius! The missing merchant and the guardsmen who went missing months ago!’
The woman spoke in a soft voice, that was both soothing and even.
‘Look at them, the poor dears…Come let us get them all out of here.’
The others nodded in agreement. We were offered food and water as we made our way out of the tunnels. They were indeed a rescue mission of sorts, but mostly to stop the raids on the caravans.
Dracius was a priest of Ilmater from Trademeet, and Iliara a monk of the same God, came from nearby Trademeet to investigate the attacks. Peter, the paladin who paid homage to Lathander was somehow related to three of the other captives, and was overjoyed to see them safe.
The wizard, a rather egotistical man, was named ‘Daven Mollard the Fourth, mage for hire extraordinaire!’ and his rather comical Halfling companion Regis ‘Blackblade’ were traveling mercenaries. The mage and the Halfling were willing to accompany the group back to the small village where three of the other captives were from, there we would rest for the night before setting off to town of Trademeet. Tonight I shall sleep in a real bed…
I wonder if I shall ever come across Jhanbryn'da again? Regardless of her motives I do wish to thank her for the opportunity she presented me… I could not help but wonder of Xun’s words… He never said what came after the light…
~~
Travel to Trademeet
It is like some dream I have walked into… grander than a dream… I am breathing in fresh morning air and my greatest fear is Regis’ cooking. Speaking of which it smells as if breakfast is in need of my saving… Thank goodness I can cook, or we may all starve as Daven swears we will.
~~
(The next several entries are rather uneventful with the exception of Regis and Daven deciding to travel to the north with a group of mercenaries, leaving Meri in the happy company of Dracius and Iliara. The other slaves had decided to stay behind in the village. There are entries that ramble on of thoughts and expectations of Trademeet, and endless delights in simple things like sunsets and sunrises, or squirrels and bees and other simplicities taken for granted by others more used to such mundane bits. She would spend nearly a tenday in wonder. The entries are full of comparisons and notes.)
~~
Last edited by LeslieMS on Fri Mar 11, 2011 2:56 pm, edited 5 times in total.
"Play nice." Mum
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
-
LeslieMS
- Posts: 1076
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:43 pm
- Location: Oklahoma, United States
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
[ELEVENTH ENTRY]
Trademeet
After hearing so much of our destination, I feel I know it as well as if I had always been there. Dracius and Iliara are both wise and reverent. Their kindness to me has been a blessing like that which I have never known. Iliara helped me gather all my bits of paper from the past that I had sewn into my meager scraps of cloth for safekeeping… into a lovely leather-bound journal. She also has taught me how to add parchment pages to the bindings. She tells me that even though it was a terrible time in my life, it is wise that I wish to remember it.
They seem to enjoy taking time to teach me of herbs and such. They also do not seem to mind my endless questions about a world that seems nearly unknown to me. They have spoke much of their faith in Ilmater too… For the first time in my life I feel I have something to believe in beside pain and loss.
I feel the pull of Ilmater on my heart already and have expressed my interest in joining them in their faith. Dracius has said that he could arrange for me to stay at the temple, and be educated there in the many things I lack proficiency in, to which I gladly accepted. For the first time I have a home to look forward to! I shall scarcely be able to sleep for the excitement in my heart!
~~
I am finally settled, as promised in the temple dormitory. There is so much to learn and see! Trademeet is a quiet little town that prospers on being a way-stop on a larger trade route that covers many parts of Amn… Strange how in all my travel I end up back in the nation of Amn.
~~
(the next few pages describe the village of Trademeet and the temple in great detail as well as an eager account of the hopes she now holds for life…)
~~
(The next year of entries are filled with notes on various healing techniques, the learning of the language of the Surface Elves, the marvel at the difference between the Underdark and the Surface, and the enjoyment of simple things as they occur. She has an almost childlike wonderment in some of the passages, as her appreciation in even the most unordinary facets of her life grows. So new in her freedom and innocence, the past becoming a distant nightmare with nothing but her scars to remind her of it. She often speaks of Mercy and Renewal, of Second Chances, and how she should enjoy the one she has been given.)
~~
Brother Dracius says I am ready for my initiation. With luck the next time I write it will be as a new Initiate. He says that Ilmater has always guided me, that it is Ilmater which gives me the power to heal at will. He also says with training I can master these things. So many things are starting to make sense.
Dracius agrees that the events that led me here are for some purpose. I shall be Ilmatari, and shall do good in the name of Ilmater. I pray this is true! I long to have faith in something greater than that which I see in front of me. The world is full of wonders, but also of suffering, and if the One Who Endures shall have me, I shall serve him faithfully.
~~
My official training as a Priestess begins in the morning! I know it will be hard work, but nothing worth doing is ever easy, and I am ready for it. With the skills I already possess, my superiors agree that the role of a healer is ideal for me. I am looking at my grey robes which I shall don tomorrow… So plain, and yet compared to the rags that led me here, so beautiful!
~~
(Several entries, nearly 2 years worth of such detail her training in the temple. She is taught prayers and blessings, the doctrines of her new faith, and she begins to master her divine gifts. It is as though Ilmater favors her for her years of suffering and continues with her willing devotion. Divine works come easily to her, and she is a fast learner and a skilled enough healer. She is taught the martial fighting styles of the monks there at the temple. She Never takes the typical vows. Being told instead to leave her path open for now)
~~
Leaving Home
Dracius has named me a Novice. The others think it is time I set forth, and find my own path. An exciting and terrifying thought. I’ve never been anywhere on my own that I can remember. I will miss it here. Brother Dracius and Lady Iliara have become like parents to me. Though, they are right. I have spent so much time as a slave, and nearly four years here in the temple cloisters. It is time to learn how to live, not as a slave, but as the willing servant of Ilmater.
~~
Trademeet
After hearing so much of our destination, I feel I know it as well as if I had always been there. Dracius and Iliara are both wise and reverent. Their kindness to me has been a blessing like that which I have never known. Iliara helped me gather all my bits of paper from the past that I had sewn into my meager scraps of cloth for safekeeping… into a lovely leather-bound journal. She also has taught me how to add parchment pages to the bindings. She tells me that even though it was a terrible time in my life, it is wise that I wish to remember it.
They seem to enjoy taking time to teach me of herbs and such. They also do not seem to mind my endless questions about a world that seems nearly unknown to me. They have spoke much of their faith in Ilmater too… For the first time in my life I feel I have something to believe in beside pain and loss.
I feel the pull of Ilmater on my heart already and have expressed my interest in joining them in their faith. Dracius has said that he could arrange for me to stay at the temple, and be educated there in the many things I lack proficiency in, to which I gladly accepted. For the first time I have a home to look forward to! I shall scarcely be able to sleep for the excitement in my heart!
~~
I am finally settled, as promised in the temple dormitory. There is so much to learn and see! Trademeet is a quiet little town that prospers on being a way-stop on a larger trade route that covers many parts of Amn… Strange how in all my travel I end up back in the nation of Amn.
~~
(the next few pages describe the village of Trademeet and the temple in great detail as well as an eager account of the hopes she now holds for life…)
~~
(The next year of entries are filled with notes on various healing techniques, the learning of the language of the Surface Elves, the marvel at the difference between the Underdark and the Surface, and the enjoyment of simple things as they occur. She has an almost childlike wonderment in some of the passages, as her appreciation in even the most unordinary facets of her life grows. So new in her freedom and innocence, the past becoming a distant nightmare with nothing but her scars to remind her of it. She often speaks of Mercy and Renewal, of Second Chances, and how she should enjoy the one she has been given.)
~~
Brother Dracius says I am ready for my initiation. With luck the next time I write it will be as a new Initiate. He says that Ilmater has always guided me, that it is Ilmater which gives me the power to heal at will. He also says with training I can master these things. So many things are starting to make sense.
Dracius agrees that the events that led me here are for some purpose. I shall be Ilmatari, and shall do good in the name of Ilmater. I pray this is true! I long to have faith in something greater than that which I see in front of me. The world is full of wonders, but also of suffering, and if the One Who Endures shall have me, I shall serve him faithfully.
~~
My official training as a Priestess begins in the morning! I know it will be hard work, but nothing worth doing is ever easy, and I am ready for it. With the skills I already possess, my superiors agree that the role of a healer is ideal for me. I am looking at my grey robes which I shall don tomorrow… So plain, and yet compared to the rags that led me here, so beautiful!
~~
(Several entries, nearly 2 years worth of such detail her training in the temple. She is taught prayers and blessings, the doctrines of her new faith, and she begins to master her divine gifts. It is as though Ilmater favors her for her years of suffering and continues with her willing devotion. Divine works come easily to her, and she is a fast learner and a skilled enough healer. She is taught the martial fighting styles of the monks there at the temple. She Never takes the typical vows. Being told instead to leave her path open for now)
~~
Leaving Home
Dracius has named me a Novice. The others think it is time I set forth, and find my own path. An exciting and terrifying thought. I’ve never been anywhere on my own that I can remember. I will miss it here. Brother Dracius and Lady Iliara have become like parents to me. Though, they are right. I have spent so much time as a slave, and nearly four years here in the temple cloisters. It is time to learn how to live, not as a slave, but as the willing servant of Ilmater.
~~
Last edited by LeslieMS on Fri Mar 11, 2011 2:57 pm, edited 3 times in total.
"Play nice." Mum
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
-
LeslieMS
- Posts: 1076
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:43 pm
- Location: Oklahoma, United States
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
[TWELFTH ENTRY]
BALDUR’S GATE
I have recently arrived in Baldur's Gate. It is strange to me still to be in such a place of my own free will. Most large cities I have visited thus far have been under much less pleasant circumstances. I am nervous to be out on my own... I feel so unprepared for the world. Still I suppose the best way to learn to use the knowledge I obtained during my time in Trademeet is to actually make use of it.
Iliara had joked that I was a young child grown into womanhood all too quickly and setting off to find trouble. In a way, I suppose I was like a child, who has now grown and set off on her own Even though I am around twenty six seasons. I must be cautious not to let my naiveté land me in too much trouble. I should like to avoid trouble altogether, but in the mean time I should prepare for it accordingly. I know so little of the world, so many years lost to the past... This is my first venture on my own. I hope I am ready for it. I shall explore the city more in the morning. It is such a large place! Truly amazing!
~~
I met a kind pair as I was exploring the farmlands to the east of Baldur's Gate. I had the fortune to bear witness to the playful affection they share. In times of trouble fraught with peril, it warms my soul to see such things. I should have written their names down. Blast my memory! I am sure I shall recognize them if I should see them again. The gentleman had such brilliant red hair. I had never seen such a shade. They cautioned me to travel in good company in these parts, and Referred me to a local farmer, Jorn, who pays for wolf hides.
The wolves should make for good practice. I remember Iliara's teachings, about how a fist can be just as good as a club when used properly... Though I imagine my fists shall require more practice before they are that effective. In the meantime I carry a Morningstar for those situations when mere fists may not be enough.
I also met another gentleman on the road. We traveled together for a short time. He seemed troubled, and while I did my best to ease his wary heart, I wonder if it is enough... He was a very nice sort. I do hope to continue our earlier conversations in the future. He spoke of being at odds with his faith. It is my prayer that he is able to come to terms and find peace within himself.
~~
I went out to explore today. It went well enough, and I earned a bit of coin. It seems strange that such a large place, where so many folks come and go, people seem a bit... distant. Perhaps troubled by a number of things. I lost track of time, idly wandering the countryside. As I was making my way back to Baldur's Gate for the night, I ran into a bit of trouble. Snake bite... I did not see the creature until its fangs were in my ankle. The venom spread quickly. I am not sure if I passed out or … worse…
Fortunately enough the red haired gentleman happened by. After a brief conversation he headed on his way, and I to the Inn to rest. A friendly reprimand which I wholly deserved, and then he was away. Esen is his name. I shall have to ask him when I see him again if I owe him coin for his aid. I fell to the poison, and if he spent coin from his own pocket, I should like to see him reimbursed for such. I shall certainly take care to watch my step more closely in the future.
For now I shall rest, tomorrow shall be a new day. I need to revisit the small shrine here. Surely there is work that needs doing.
~~
BALDUR’S GATE
I have recently arrived in Baldur's Gate. It is strange to me still to be in such a place of my own free will. Most large cities I have visited thus far have been under much less pleasant circumstances. I am nervous to be out on my own... I feel so unprepared for the world. Still I suppose the best way to learn to use the knowledge I obtained during my time in Trademeet is to actually make use of it.
Iliara had joked that I was a young child grown into womanhood all too quickly and setting off to find trouble. In a way, I suppose I was like a child, who has now grown and set off on her own Even though I am around twenty six seasons. I must be cautious not to let my naiveté land me in too much trouble. I should like to avoid trouble altogether, but in the mean time I should prepare for it accordingly. I know so little of the world, so many years lost to the past... This is my first venture on my own. I hope I am ready for it. I shall explore the city more in the morning. It is such a large place! Truly amazing!
~~
I met a kind pair as I was exploring the farmlands to the east of Baldur's Gate. I had the fortune to bear witness to the playful affection they share. In times of trouble fraught with peril, it warms my soul to see such things. I should have written their names down. Blast my memory! I am sure I shall recognize them if I should see them again. The gentleman had such brilliant red hair. I had never seen such a shade. They cautioned me to travel in good company in these parts, and Referred me to a local farmer, Jorn, who pays for wolf hides.
The wolves should make for good practice. I remember Iliara's teachings, about how a fist can be just as good as a club when used properly... Though I imagine my fists shall require more practice before they are that effective. In the meantime I carry a Morningstar for those situations when mere fists may not be enough.
I also met another gentleman on the road. We traveled together for a short time. He seemed troubled, and while I did my best to ease his wary heart, I wonder if it is enough... He was a very nice sort. I do hope to continue our earlier conversations in the future. He spoke of being at odds with his faith. It is my prayer that he is able to come to terms and find peace within himself.
~~
I went out to explore today. It went well enough, and I earned a bit of coin. It seems strange that such a large place, where so many folks come and go, people seem a bit... distant. Perhaps troubled by a number of things. I lost track of time, idly wandering the countryside. As I was making my way back to Baldur's Gate for the night, I ran into a bit of trouble. Snake bite... I did not see the creature until its fangs were in my ankle. The venom spread quickly. I am not sure if I passed out or … worse…
Fortunately enough the red haired gentleman happened by. After a brief conversation he headed on his way, and I to the Inn to rest. A friendly reprimand which I wholly deserved, and then he was away. Esen is his name. I shall have to ask him when I see him again if I owe him coin for his aid. I fell to the poison, and if he spent coin from his own pocket, I should like to see him reimbursed for such. I shall certainly take care to watch my step more closely in the future.
For now I shall rest, tomorrow shall be a new day. I need to revisit the small shrine here. Surely there is work that needs doing.
~~
Last edited by LeslieMS on Fri Mar 11, 2011 2:58 pm, edited 6 times in total.
"Play nice." Mum
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
"Mercy, even to the least deserved."
"Revenge is beneath me, but Accidents happen..."
"Even Echoes fade to silence."
-
williamfredrickson
- Posts: 83
- Joined: Thu Apr 02, 2009 12:43 am
- Location: Mission Viejo, California
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
///This is some really great worlk, Leslie! I hope that you keep adding to it!
William Fredrickson - Weave Captain and ex-Luskan soldier
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SteelForgedSword
- Posts: 552
- Joined: Wed Jun 17, 2009 11:12 am
- Location: Pensacola Florida
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
((2nded, nice writing))
Great Druid, Galen'ael Glenstalker. Former DM Steel
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LeslieMS
- Posts: 1076
- Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:43 pm
- Location: Oklahoma, United States
Re: Never Again Forget - Merielle Williams
//
[Blushes profusely]
Gosh!
Well as soon as the kids and I get over this darn flu bug and I get some time to play I will... as for the writing... I can only partially take credit for that.
Meri is a long standing character from my childhood PnP days... way back when my dad was my dm... and life was well... simpler for poor Meri...
Then Meri grew up, and I did too... and for a while the Meri got to play the martyr... A lot of the bio is a massive paraphrasing of years of PnP play covering several campaigns spread over FR lore... She started out as a character who was literally 9... and has grown to the ripe old age of 26... many stories (though she has forgotten a few) and a scar for each one...
But hers is a lovable and tragic tale that I have never quite been able to let go of... and I'll be darned if every so often she doesn't have an 'amnesia relapse' that resets another chapter of her life, forcing her to relearn her skills... I have played Meri for years in a multi-player setting and she has never gotten above level 12. A bad jar to the head is all it takes for her to 'relapse'.
She has sort of 'literally' taken on a life of her own, and I enjoy letting the Multi-player world take her to levels the table top cannot.
I just want to take the opportunity to thank you all again for letting her spend some time here... just don't take offense when she cannot remember your name
//
[Blushes profusely]
Gosh!
Well as soon as the kids and I get over this darn flu bug and I get some time to play I will... as for the writing... I can only partially take credit for that.
Meri is a long standing character from my childhood PnP days... way back when my dad was my dm... and life was well... simpler for poor Meri...
Then Meri grew up, and I did too... and for a while the Meri got to play the martyr... A lot of the bio is a massive paraphrasing of years of PnP play covering several campaigns spread over FR lore... She started out as a character who was literally 9... and has grown to the ripe old age of 26... many stories (though she has forgotten a few) and a scar for each one...
But hers is a lovable and tragic tale that I have never quite been able to let go of... and I'll be darned if every so often she doesn't have an 'amnesia relapse' that resets another chapter of her life, forcing her to relearn her skills... I have played Meri for years in a multi-player setting and she has never gotten above level 12. A bad jar to the head is all it takes for her to 'relapse'.
She has sort of 'literally' taken on a life of her own, and I enjoy letting the Multi-player world take her to levels the table top cannot.
I just want to take the opportunity to thank you all again for letting her spend some time here... just don't take offense when she cannot remember your name
//