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Post by Falura on Jan 7, 2005 3:10:39 GMT -5
Somewhat Beautiful
An original story
Prelude[/i][/size]
Once upon a time, a raven lived in the forest with her family. A settlement of men lived to the east, and the ravens would often amuse themselves by annoying the people who trespassed in the wood.
One day, an evil wizard came to the forest and stole the raven away from her home. The wizard raised the raven as his own, but he was a cruel master and taught her to do his wicked deeds. The raven's claws grew long and sharp, but her heart grew cold and she felt no love for the wizard.
After a time had passed, the raven's family found the wizard's home. The raven's parents scratched out the wizard's eyes, and they fled. But as they flew away, the servants of the wizard struck down the raven's family with arrows, and they were no more.
Years passed, and the wizard grew old and died in his sleep. Yet his children survived and multiplied, spreading to all the corners of the land. Some preferred to forget their father’s wicked deeds; others changed their names.
But the raven lived a joyless life, gathering her strength and tormenting the wizard’s descendants. For justice is not only delivered through legitimate means.
And in the end
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The sky was so beautiful. Wisps of clouds drifted across an infinite canvas of blue. I lay on my back and contemplated what had happened. My hand found its way to the arrow protruding from my body. Pain is not an unusual thing, but this had a note of finality. But for some reason, my mind had cleared. Humans sometimes say that almost dying makes them recall their life experiences. Having no discernable future, I went over everything: the killings, the journey, the search - my past. There is a paradigm that exists – that of a “normal” person. People hold ideas – beliefs, if you will – of what qualities an ideal figure should possess. Such a thing was foreign to me. A man walks into a quiet room. Many observers watch silently from the sides as he makes his way to the center. The man stands before the judge. The verdict is pronounced and life or death is granted. How? I didn’t understand. In such a world, one must justify her existence. Rational and logic must work together to form a semblance of reality. Mine was quickly reshaping itself. Perhaps you may agree that it is best to live with a purpose. What is the point in living if there is none? My purpose had been cast in stone almost a century ago, but now it was threatened, endangered by doubt. “Was I really right?” “Was it all worth it?”<br> “Did I really accomplish something?”<br> Surely I was not alone in asking these questions. I relived my life in a matter of minutes, questioning everything that had been done. My eyes clenched shut, a few tears trickling down the side of my face. Truth was the piercing arrow in my side, the clearness of my mind, the harsh, unforgiving reality that was now. And yet, as it all ended, I was touched with a feeling. The journey was over. It was a feeling of certainty. It was a feeling of resolution. It was peace. [Tomorrow: I wasn’t always this way][/left] |
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Post by Falura on Jan 8, 2005 2:10:19 GMT -5
I wasn’t always this way[/i][/size]
When I was young, a Thayvian named Milan Thomas kidnapped me. He fancied himself as an alchemist, and I became a sort of ongoing, living experiment in his household. He gave me free reign over his basement, which was quite large, if not lacking in decorations. Most of my time was spent in a sort of foggy mental haze due to the potions I was forced to drink and various spells he cast on me.
In addition to being a convenient test subject, he would also send me to run errands. Some were mundane. Others were not. Milan had many motives and plans, some of which involved certain people being dead.
It was probably around my fifth assignment that I started to actively resist. That may sound like a long time, but his power over me was strong. It started one late fall evening when I was scheduled to dispose of one of his rivals.
With a dagger strapped to the back of my waist and a crossbow in hand, I traveled to the house of Milan’s foe. The sun was disappearing over the mountains and I could hear the sounds of chatter amidst silverware. Apparently it was dinnertime. I crept softly around corner of the building until I was positioned under a nearby window. I thingyed the crossbow Milan gave me, waited for an opportune time, then rose swiftly and fired through the window.
I missed.
I had hit the target’s wife. I ran around the house and fitted another bolt to the crossbow, keeping an eye on the door. Nothing moved. I inched into the house, the dining room visible just down the corridor. Two doorways faced each other in the hallway. My target must have hidden himself in one of the rooms. I peered into the room on the right.
The floor creaked under something to my left. In less than a second, I whirled around, fired, and jumped back. It was a child: the target’s son. I’d shot him in the head.
Even in my dazed frame of mind, I could feel that this was wrong. I staggered back, so disconcerted that I didn’t see the target himself lunge at me in the dark. The crossbow clattered to the floor as we wrestled. He had used the opportunity of surprise to stab me with a knife, and I was in a rather poor position to defend myself at the moment.
Presently, the knife was a few inches away from my nose. I was fending the blade off with one hand whilst trying to reach the dagger behind my back. The man was a terrifying sight, with reddened eyes bent on my destruction. My strength was waning and death was imminent. Somehow I finally managed to grab my dagger and, in an act of desperation, plunged it into his throat. With a low gurgle and a spurt of blood, he collapsed. And then it was over.
I limply rested in the dead man’s house, when I remembered something: the child. I lifted my head up slowly to look across the hallway where he lay, a bolt embedded in his skull. Something was leaking from his head. And then I threw up.
Less than a daughter, more than a pet
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After some time, I made myself back to Milan’s mansion. A dirty, miserable wretch with a bloody dagger stumbled through the door. I’d never been so sloppy with my mentor’s assignments, but at the moment I didn’t care. Killing the human child touched something in me that had been frozen. I dragged myself up the stairs to Milan’s study. He was still awake, poring over some thick, grimy texts. He lifted his head and gazed at my ragged figure, then frowned. “You look like you had trouble.” I didn’t answer. There was no answer. He stood up and walked around me, as if taking an inventory of his possessions. “You left the crossbow behind?” Again, no answer. “They’re all dead?” My master sounded displeased. I spoke. “There was a child…” Milan turned his head, albeit very slowly. “And?”<br> My breathing quickened. “I killed it…him….”<br> He turned away with a satisfied expression and began to walk back towards his desk. My hand tightened around the dagger and my shoulders trembled. Before I was aware of it, I was screaming. “I…didn’t want to kill them!” And with that I threw the dagger as hard as I could towards my mentor’s head. It sailed past him and landed in the wall with a soft THUNK. He froze, then turned his head in my direction. I dimly remember flying through the air and landing on the ground before losing consciousness. [Tomorrow: The family][/left]
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Post by Falura on Jan 9, 2005 3:03:54 GMT -5
We never stopped looking for you[/i][/size]
Over the next few weeks, Milan concocted a new potion, one which would make me a better servant. It succeeded in having a stronger effect, and eventually I became apathetic towards the value of other people’s lives. Right and wrong lost their meaning, yet there was one piece of clarity I hung on to: my family.
My great-grandmother founded an organization: the Circle of Five Seats, so named for its five members when it was formed. They patrolled the border between Aglarond, my home, and Thay, land of the red wizards. As the years passed, members died off until only my family remained to carry the name.
There was my mother, fair and slender, always ready with a gentle word. My father, noble and strong, someone who would take care of me. My younger sister Mell, always energetic and excited about the world.
And throughout my training as Milan’s slave, a thought in my mind lingered – a hope that one day they would come for me, and happiness would sweep everything else away. Along with the hope was a flicker of doubt. I could sense that I was different – how different, I wasn’t sure. It was like having something on your face with no mirror to look at. My dream was tempered with a worry: maybe I had changed too much. Maybe things would never be the same.
Yet one day they came for me, years after I had been taken. It was my sister whom I saw first. We almost didn’t recognize each other.
It was evening, and Milan was working on a ritual upstairs. Necromancy was his newest passion. I was charged with gathering ingredients from the basement, when there was a commotion upstairs. Sounds of furniture being overturned melded with the shattering of glass. I paused, looking to the stairs, when Mell, my sister, suddenly appeared. She’d grown. We stared at each other for a few seconds, and I became aware of how I must have looked. My hair had pale streaks from the experiments Milan had run on me, and I was holding a skull, something my master had commanded me to fetch.
Before I knew it, she was crying in my arms, and I was embracing my only sister. We met my parents at the door, exchanged tearful hugs, and fled through the night. My mother said something to me that night that I never forgot:
“We never stopped looking for you.”<br>
The demise of the Circle of Five Seats
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It was too easy. Life isn’t like that. Life is your family sacrificing themselves to save you. Life is the knowledge that you’re utterly alone in the world. My family had perished at the hands of Milan’s servants. Everything was wrong. I vowed to make my old master suffer. Years later, an older and wiser figure dressed in dark robes traveled to Milan’s mansion. I was going to show my mentor how his emotionless doll had grown. The scenario replayed a thousand ways in my mind: what I’d say, the look on his face, how I’d kill him. The cloaked figure knocked on the door. I kept my hood pulled low over my face. A young servant answered. “I’m here to speak with Milan.” The servant paused, then spoke hesitantly. “I’m sorry, miss. He passed away naught a month ago.”<br> Milan was already dead. I never got my chance. It turned out he’d died in his sleep. This was too much. The servant was trying to say something, but he eventually keeled over and was silent. I removed my dagger from his chest and walked upstairs. My master’s study was indeed empty, save for some remaining documents. I searched his desk. He’d gotten letters from his children, all grown now and living elsewhere. It was as if nothing had happened. Milan was survived by his children. They would grow more numerous, while my family would die with me. The sheer audacity of their ignorance made me sick. It disgusted me. I was going to annihilate them. [Tomorrow: Story’s end][/left]
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Post by Falura on Jan 10, 2005 2:12:28 GMT -5
I didn’t want to kill them[/i][/size]
And so, decades later, I found myself at a home in Isinhold in the lands of Cormyr. A story had been passed down Milan Thomas’ family that something was after them – an angel of death, a phantom of the night, a shadow that makes you disappear. They’d moved so far away that it took considerable effort to locate each family and extinguish it, like a bad weed that’s taken root. I’d vowed to trim the world of Milan’s filth, and this time would be no different from the others.
Now I stood above my master’s descendents with the power of death in my hands. There were three of them, huddled against a corner. Two parents and a young girl cowered against the wall, unaware that they were proof of my wretched life. I raised my hand to smite them down.
A muffled sob emerged from the girl despite her parents’ efforts. Only a child…it reminded me of something. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but I hesitated.
The door behind me swung open suddenly, and I turned around just in time to see an arrow fly through the air and sink deep into my side.
Peace
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The raven tilted its head. Something was moving in the woods. The bird hopped up to a better vantage point and looked towards the edge of the forest. An elvish woman emerged, her hand clutching an arrow in her side. She faltered, then stepped slowly away from the trees. Mid-way through the clearing the elf collapsed, her figure gracefully falling to the ground. The raven watched her fallen form, but she did not move throughout the rest of the day. The sun began its descent, illuminating the sky with a myriad of colors. The clouds glowed with a violet hue. Rays of gold pierced the sky. It was somewhat beautiful. [/left] The End
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