Moonsea Bard

[Artemisa]

A black haired female had settled down comfortable at a table near the fireplace inside the Regal Griffon Inn. With a quill in one hand and her goblet in the other, she looked quite thoughtful down in a book, seemingly not paying anyone around her attention. Now and then, she gingerly soaked the quill with ink and slowly scribbled in the book…

“The soft lullaby from a caring mother made her eyelids feel heavy as stone while she listened to the melancholy tones. Her mother’s warm embrace protected from the biting cold surrounding them in the small room. From the dim light of a candle, the child watched the shadows on the walls come alive and admired how nimble they danced around at the whim of the candle. Captivated by her mother’s lullaby and the exotic dance displayed on their wall, the girl soon drifted away deep into her own world of dreams and wonders.

In the middle of the darkest night, she woke up again. By her side her mother was asleep, but it was obvious not a good one the way she twisted and twirled around in their modest bed of hay and old furs. The candle was still burning and the dancers still floating around on the walls. She envied them for their hypnotic moves and freedom on the wall. Sitting up straight, she leaned closer to the candle and blew it out, blinking the dancers out of existence.”

Contemplating her last sentences the female leaned back and glanced over the text appraisingly. A humored smirk soon marked her human features, shortly followed by a quiet snicker before she let the quill back to work.

“Howling winds from outside the cottage kept the girl awake and instead of going back to bed she stood up and strode over the ice cold floor, over to the only window. It was surprisingly bright outside from the pale moonlight, the moon itself tossed upon the wild, cloudy sea like a ghostly galleon. In the distance, she heard their drumming. Cruel rhymes and chanting, echoing soft from far, far away”

Bored from her own creation she rested the quill on the table and re-filled her goblet with wine. The patrons around didn’t pay her much attention as she looked around at each one of them, studying their faces perhaps a bit too obvious. Only those sitting closest could hear the soft humming as she drummed the rhythm with her fingers against the chair. “Too thin, too thick, too muscular.. too...boring, too handsome…too weak.” She rose up with a sigh and headed for the bar.

Had she really made it to the right town?

[Artemisa]

Clutching the key from Kale, she walked upstairs in the Regal Griffon Inn with a tremble in her body. The wounds on her arm and neck was merely a scratch now, thanks to Kara’s quick reaction and Rhyllin’s healing drink, but the shock and weariness was still over her. And the fear mixed with triumph.

Finally, in her rented room she sank down into the soft bed, with a focused gaze on the door. The dagger, normally hidden in a boot, had found its way up to her hand and she watched the door alert. Rhyllin’s delightful grin as he softly asked her how it had felt to be so close to dieing had not frightened her, only made her alert. For twenty, long minutes she sat paralyzed, the whole time staring at the door, before she let her guard a bit down.

In a slow move, she sat down on her knees, contemplating her last journey with Kara and Rhyllin. It was not much of a prayer, but if nothing, it was at least her way of doing it.

On her knees, as tyranny would have her.
Hands folded tightly, as hate clutched the grip.
Eyes fully open, inspired by strife.
Head lowered, as fear forced her to.

She would live longer. They had eventually dispatched the group of bugbears assaulting them and she would live. Much in thanks to her two companions.

[Artemisa]

“Oh grand”, she thought. “Why can’t they keep their tongues in check till at least after the exploring is done?” glancing over at her companions she regarded them unusually discreetly; Rhyllin with his blade, idly twirling it around while scanning the dark ruins ahead, occasionally tossing a cold glare in her direction. “One day I will wake up with that blade in my back.” She grinned back at him, a twinkle in her eyes almost giving away her inner thoughts. Her gaze wandered over to the new one, Sanctos. The stout man she met just recently, who she thought would make an excellent front guard, a man to take the toughest blows from whatever they would face in the depths of the ruins. “Mmmh”, subconsciously the grin grew wider. “I wonder if Rhyllin would stab him first, or me?” a quiet snicker escaped her and she gazed to her right. Merrik. The grin faded away, leaving her with a thoughtful expression as her eyes wandered over him. Like Rhyllin, he was one of the first she had traveled with around Isinhold, but she had yet to decipher him. It was never easy to tell when he was serious, if ever, or playing around. She suspected the latter. The deep red hair fitted his wry grin and snide remarks perfectly. And he had a nasty habit of scaring all her new acquaintances away, if it was intentional, or not, she had no idea. Nevertheless, fact remained – he had caught her interest in a way.

Their destination, the ancient ruins, lay quiet ahead of them. The silence, in a way much more intimidating than any monstrous form could be, did not make them turn around and leave. They had a meaning by coming here and intended to venture forth. Deeper into the ruins only an eerie silence greeted them and the whole expedition turned out rather uneventful. At least until they were about to leave…

The quietness had probably made the adventurous group reckless as they strode on their way back out and never saw the huge pulps of acid creeping closer. Not until Merrik shrieked in pain when one of the pulps grasped at his legs, splashing its substance all over him. Sanctos did not fare any better as a second wave of acid etched into his legs too, making the stout warrior drop to his knees in agony. Caught of guard by the surprise attack, Rhyllin and Esmeralda never made it close enough in time to aid their companions. Somehow in the confusion the two managed to dispatch the moving pulps, leaving them little more than fizzling drops of slime covering the ancient floor.

How many times hadn’t she seen torture and pain? The commanders back home in the Keep never held anything back when interrogating heretics or sacrificing them. But the stench of burnt flesh and the visuals of their legs covered in acid, their lifeless bodies curled up, witnessing of the agony and pain they surely must have felt when the fuming acid swam up their feet, forced her turn away. The sickening stench filled the lower parts of the ruins.

In the end it was Rhyllin who made sure the two fallen was brought to a healers cottage in Isinhold with Esmeralda tagging along, following him hot on heels. Half the night they waited downstairs for the return of Merrik and Sanctos…



Later the same night, after seeing both Merrik and Sanctos alive, she found herself relaxing in her rented bed, toggling through an old journal from nine years back.

Some memories should always be kept fresh in mind.

“She is dead. …

Made the same night. Born the same day. Sister, my heart is torn. How can this go on without my reflection?

Around you it is looming
hanging in the air
Even light feels glooming
but would you so much care

From deep within it’s flowing
no one else can see
How it’s slowly growing
your sweet misery

Is it all your end
or is it a new start
Those two so softly blend
the same yet so apart

Who made the final choice
who carried out the sin
Was it the calm voice
that spoke from deep within

And who will you now blame
for all that you have done
Can you take the shame
or just forever run… “

[Artemisa]

Pacing back and forth in the Regal Griffon Inn’s common room, Esmeralda cursed softly, or as soft as one can, in the harsh tongue of Damaran. Soft footfalls outside the door made her stop dead in her track and in anticipation she watched the door slide open, only to see a complete stranger stumble in, greeting her with burp. With a dejected sigh she continued her walk across the room. No doubt, she had hoped for someone else to come in the door. “He won’t come down here, not a chance in the abyss.” She murmured in her native tongue. “You have done it this time, Es. Sure boiled it up good.”

She pictured Merrik’s expression. His glare. The betrayed look in his eyes before he walked away from her, promising he would never speak with her again.

“No chance in the abyss…” a dejected frown came over her features as she sat down on her modest bedroll. “You did it this time.”

Sighing loudly she wrapped her arms around her legs, allowing her head to rest on top of her knees. “And he was not even so bad to have around. Free… different. Fun.” The thought of missing him bothered her.

She pictured Kara’s expression. Those concerned frowns, making her look twice her age before she embraced her, like a sister. “I love you like a sister, Es... that's something people like us don't often find...” Kara had said. “But if you continue working and socializing with him, I will walk away. So you choose... the love of one, or certain death at the hands of a tyrant. This time the choice is completely yours.”

And she promised. Promised not to see the dark man again. Moreover, she meant it in the heat of the moment. She did value Kara’s friendship

Tired of the event, tired of the feelings, she reached inside her bag. The old journal was still in place, safely wrapped inside some cloth.

The last entry in the journal, dated nine years back;

“Those vacant eyes. That silent stare. It was her fault, father told me. I just came home from a gathering and found her on the floor in the middle of father’s study. Her face was twisted and pale, I could immediately tell Mother was dead. Father next told me how this all came to be, how this happened.

Praise to the Gods that I will live on?”

[Artemisa]

//Written in a journal, the text is in Damaran.


Driven by boredom, I now write in you again, dear journal. Months has passed since I arrived in Cormyr, the area southwest of home. While I did not have any specific plans, I certainly never expected to be in one place for this long. The town I am staying in is small, even smaller than Voonlar, but the activity around here is bordering to insane. Perhaps this is why I am still around here?

I have made some acquaintances, however only a handful of them I would want to socialize with regularly. During my stay here, I often find myself in the company with Kara and Rhyllin. Then there is Merrik.

Merrik alone is a chapter for himself. He is just as out of place here as I am. I try to restrain myself when he is around and still he manages to pry out of me things best left alone to be forgotten. On the other side, he has also revealed a great many things about himself to me. Still I keep in mind that he is just another silver-tongued charmer. The day he grows tired of me, he is gone. Then again – some time back he almost did go. He and Kara found me in conversation with a Banite and things almost turned sour. Just almost.

Father would have tortured me slowly had he known all this. It’s wicked how pleasing that thought is to me. The further away I get from home, the brighter my future looks. As bizarre and strange this place may be, I still found some traces, and people, reminding me of home…

I should get out more. My fantasy is running low on inspiration to create. The melodies come slow these days. Only idiotic rhymes telling about illusions creeping over me…

A small example: ((Written in common))

Aloof and charming when needed to be
You beckon me closer – calling for me
The twinkling secrets you hold beneath
Is drawing me to you like frozen to heat

Honey you should clearly see
The magic hold you have on me
But in the end it’s all absurb
Love is only a four-letter word

Let go of the anger – forget the betray
I’d stay with you – through night ‘n through day
Allow me inside to the warmth you hold
Don’t leave me outside all weary and cold

Cruelty how you do not see
The crushing hold you have on me
Yet in the end it’s so absurd
How love is only a four-letter word

The wits you have – the boyish charms
Alluring me into your arms
Careful now – I beg you please
Where am I left when all this cease

Even if you’ll never see
The hold you’ll always have on me
I have in mind it’s all absurd
All this for only a four-letter word


Pointless scribbles. Still it does describe the crave inside of me to be inspired to write.

Time to get out of bed now. If lucky, I will meet Kara, Rhyllin or perhaps Merrik downstairs.

[Artemisa]

A few days back..

Sitting alone in the company of mead and ink, Esmeralda studied the inn closely, taking in the atmosphere. Before her on the table lay various writing equipment ready for use and a book toggled open to a half-written page. To her left, a pianist and a harpist prepared another performance for their two-people-audience – Esmeralda and Talbot, the barkeep.

The play began slowly; rhymes weaved together into a melancholy symphony portraying a sad story or a love story, depending on the listener. To Esmeralda is was that of a sad one and enthralled by the music she found her quill and feverishly scribbled into her book as the play unfolded.

The maidens mind was scattered over sea
Depressed in her sadness she whispered ‘why me’?
The roof of stars offered no answer to her
On the shores she sat – left to wither
Her sun would never shine,
And melodies no longer rhyme
Did her world long ago end?

For the last time she felt his warm embrace
As her slender fingers stroked over his face
Those feelings now only memory of past
Mythical feelings never meant to last
For the dagger was too close
When madness in her rose
Was that the end of his life?

His blood dripped down in crimson streams
With ease she had ruined all his dreams
The last he saw; her dagger in his chest
He whispered;
“I loved thee and therefore ready for rest.
For to this I can attest
My life fully I have lived
Now I have been relieved
Of ever getting the feeling of loss when a love dies. . .”

With his words fresh in mind she ran away
And ran far to east all night and all day
To the shores of our purple Moonsea
And there she would forever be
Gone he was from her life
Gone she was from all strife
Would madness take over now?

Today she still sits there by the sea
Thinking what her life now could be
Never will she leave
Forever will she grieve
Over a long forgotten life she once had.


Finally the crave inside her rested and she sighed in satisfaction. “Long it must be before next time my quill goes silent.” she mumbled in the flowing tongue of elven.

[Artemisa]

Entry in her journal, written in Damaran:

You are an idiot, Esmeralda Isadora. A fool beyond comparison.

I had a small window to escape, to ignore any further contact. And what do I do? I write the man a letter, requesting to meet him, all because he again had Kara upset and suspicious. And to what purpose? Kara bloody left anyway. Some of the town idiots saw her leave through the gates in a fury and I have not seen her since. She is probably dead as I write this entry, or dieing. *a drop of something wet has made the ink float a bit out over the paper*

A while before she left she asked me if I had seen Merrik around lately. As a joke, I replied that he has probably fallen through one of the gates appearing in the middle of Isinhold. The worst part is that I almost think it to be true now. So much for trust. I feel like a puppet on a stage, the kind that others laugh at to brighten their own sad existence.

Been some time since last I saw Rhyllin in town. I would not say I miss him. At least I knew where I had him, or not had him. He is predictable in the way of being unpredictable.

This week I met a man. His tongue has been cut off, so I have no idea what his name is. He had a face full of tattoos. He wore the colours. And his stare… The town is full of them. Just today I met another. A refugee from the Keep he said he was. Cold and appraising like the rest of them.

Made a few other new acquaintances lately as well.. including the tallest female I have ever seen. Made me look like a hin, compared to! She must have been close to two meters, I swear. Dorenee, I think her name was and she is a sorceress of some sort. We traveled underneath Isinhold together with this human male, Grimrod. He was amusing enough. The type to bed an unshaved dwarf female, just for the sport of it. Full of life though, I must admit. I have seen worse..

[Artemisa]

// Just a glimpse from her background, which will probably only make sense to a few of you

15 years old.

In anticipation, she watched him from across the room. For any teenager, sitting still for this long could count as torture. The collar of her tunic was turned up, its soft edge brushing the bottom of her jaw as it framed around her neck. Black, curly hair flowing down over her back and rose-red cheeks gave a sharp contrast to her pale complexion. Her father had just explained for her in length all the details involving a new task she needed to do. This time it was different. After completing it, he promised her freedom to go where she wanted. No longer would he command her, or demand from her. No longer would she have to do as he pleased. A strange deal to be making, for sure, but she was not going to question him about it and risk losing the opportunity to get away.

A full hour slowly passed before he again spoke to her in the harsh tongue of Damaran. “You will go there by caravan tomorrow.”

She nodded. A chill quiver traveled down her spine as he shifted his authoritarian gaze to her, those sunken in eyes of dark brown orbs always appraising her, always judging her. A mess of tattoos folded over each wrinkle and curve on his pale features, betraying his mature age of forty-eight, fooling most to think him over sixty. The long, flowing robes that covered his skinny frame billowed out over the stone floor. Ornament patterns in black were neatly embroidered into the dark red fabric, giving his attire an expensive look. In the dim light of a lonely candle he looked more demonic than human, of course that was only the trick of shadows playing around them in the room, moving by the grace of a flickering flame. The only non-human part of him was elven blood from his father.

He stared at her.

“Need I tell you the consequen—

“No.” she interrupted rudely and returned the stare. Her hands trembling slightly belied the otherwise calm act performed.

“Forget it, ..” he calmly continued. “I now see you are not apt for the task.”

An eerie silence took over.

Another slow hour passed.

“Tomorrow. By caravan.” He started over taking in a raspy breath, but before he could form the words, she cut him short again.

“You need not tell me the consequences, father.” She rose up from the stool she had spent the last hours sitting on well aware his stern glare followed her every move. “Should there be anything to discover about them, I will uncover it.”

------------------------------------------

The deal closed.

He gave his daughter one last glance before walking away from them. Striding down the muddy street he showed no emotion hinting about the event just occurring. His thoughts were already elsewhere as he fingered a soft leather satchel at his hip, gloved hands reassuring him of its contents.

Left behind, she stood alone with a stranger who had placed a heavy hand on top of her shoulder, giving no doubt about ownership.

One single tear escaped the corner of her eye, trailing down over her cheek. It was the last performance of the scene set, every move carefully planned out by her father beforehand. This was her escape from the Zhentil Keep. Her freedom only one year away…

She remembered his words… “Twelve moons, girl. There will be an auction arranged, in which I will make him an offer he cannot refuse and trade you back. Not a day before will we meet again and all information you uncover, you need to keep close till that day. In one year.”

[Artemisa]

From her journal, written in Damaran.

They are still missing. I have stopped looking for them both. In fact, the last few months I have had other things on my mind, other things to focus on. People come and go around Isinhold and I might as well enjoy my stay here while I can. Damn Kara. And damn Merrik. As a result of their absence I find myself hanging around the dustbowl, idle, too much for my liking. Perhaps I am simply too picky when it comes to travel companions, but I cannot seem to find any level-headed people around here who would be useful by my side. Only town nutters and whatnot.

I tried to contact the man again. Thought I might have something to share with him, after all this time and even looked forward to it. After Kara and Merrik left I figured nothing could really hold me away any longer. Everyone needs a purpose…and this was supposed to be mine. But alas – the man has been staying clear of Isinhold lately, I think. At least I have received no response to the note. And given resent events in Redmist and with the relief founds, I doubt I will be seeing him again anytime soon. *a huge blot of ink marks the page here, as if the quill was left resting on the paper for too long*

Have met quite a few new acquaintances the last months. Doust Morndaroth being the most noteworthy of them all. A sorcerer from Waterdeep and a talented one too. But who cares about his talents. He is easy to talk with, a bit too easy maybe? I always felt Merrik was able to pry anything out of me, but Doust does it in his own way without asking any questions. I feel relaxed around him, even appreciate his company to some extend. *another blotch of ink* And I think he genuinely cares for me. A few nights ago after returning from a tedious, but exhausting journey, I came home to him again. In the end of the day I always end up in the same place. And it truly did feel like coming to a home.

On another note – lately I have been thinking a lot about her. It will be ten years ago in a month. Ten long, years. The idea of revenge seems to slip further and further away for each day. Some tendays ago a small flame of hope flickered inside me when I heard about cyricists in Isinhold. To see their faces twisted with pain and agony would without doubt feel satisfying. But all in due time, I guess…


There was a bright burning flame
Always pulsating in your chest
A great swordswoman you became
Unmatched skills you possessed

A fearsome foe, a strong ally
A great companion by my side
With you I shared a special tie
With you I truly was allied

You took the piece of my heart
That was sealed for you alone
And now forever we’re apart
Keep it close, this gemstone

A truest friend you were to me
Like sisters we were close
Kara, you will always be
That special, blood red rose

Quote from Kara: “What is the difference between a great swordswoman and the greatest?
The great swordswoman does what she does great, while the greatest does the same – only with style.”


OOC: Generalapathy - You and all your characters will be sorely missed. Especially Kara. But I'll see you soon again, I hope. Another time, another place.

[Grozer]

artemisa said:

From her journal, written in Damaran.

OOC: Generalapathy - You and all your characters will be sorely missed. Especially Kara. But I'll see you soon again, I hope. Another time, another place.

//OOC: hope you dont mind me mukking up your story Arty, but I have to whole heartedly agree with you.

[Artemisa]

Slowly she rose up from the bed with the soft sheets still tucked around her. This day felt different from the day before. Just different. That untouchable difference that couldn’t be described. Just a feeling.

It was that feeling of a clear conscious. Of having done the right thing. Of finally knowing what she wanted and who she wanted along with her. Yet at the same time, old traditions made her shoulders slump down and for a moment she could feel the burden of the choice made; fear.




From her journal, written in common:

In the wasteland of my dome
Where my thoughts alone would roam
In the shadows of the moon
Where the darkest forces gloom

In my heart there was a place
In my heart there was a trace
Left alone in emptiness
Left alone in the glumness

To the wasteland then you came
The gloomy dome never the same
A peace had settled in my mind
That only you my heart could bind

In my heart there is a place
In my heart there is a trace
Of the deepest burning desire
Of a strong burning wildfire

Your hand is reacing out for me
In the darkness oh so silently
I turn away
I'm lead astray
Yet in the end it's you I'm with
With those feelings belonging to myth

In my heart there is a place
In my heart there is a trace
Left for you and you alone
Left for you and you alone

[Artemisa]

Forward and backward is just as far. . .

. . .but with years in between the road changes.


“Back in the dustbowl again.” Esmeralda gazed around her. Years had passed since last time she sat foot in Isinhold, but everything looked remarkably the same. A soft breath escaped through her lips, dry and dusty from a long journey. Waterdeep only proved interesting for so long and after all – it was her in her nature to elope when things started to feel too attached, so Cormyr it was again. Not really planned. Cormyr just happened to be the realm she needed to pass through in order to reach another.

Same hamlet. Different woman. A different woman than the one leaving this place behind years back.



More confident. More certain.

More ambitious.