Gift of Brutality

Moderator: Forum Moderators

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Tue Oct 10, 2017 2:41 pm

On Leave.

The past month has been difficult. I hate sitting around. I hate doing nothing. Even if it means allowing my body time to heal.

The Priest believes it was some kind of sickness left over from Elwood’s ridiculous ‘zoo’ that he left in his home when I bought it. A magical illness or residue left over from the extensive lab work that happened there. That is the last time I do touch that stupid tank or allow another mage to examine it for a long while. - At least this is what the priest believes it comes from. Honestly, I don’t think they know anything about what happened.

Regardless of where it came from, being bed ridden for a sodding month is unbearable. I think most of the time I just sat there and stared at my uniform across the room, watching it. Like it was some kind of beacon, urging me to put it on and walk out.

Theo wouldn’t let me if I did that.

There wouldn’t have been a point. He or Vadrien would have dragged me back in here and made me rest.

At least the bed was comfortable. Perhaps a perk of having the largest temple in Cordor. Hm. I can’t seem to stop bragging about that.

I suppose I am proud of Theoros. He truly is Hoar’s conduit for this world. I wish I could be more like him.

I suppose I need to keep working on my anger. My urges. They seem to be affecting me more lately than they have in the past. Perhaps now that the sickness has passed I can be..


... I have been told Khabul was run off the Pax. Not an easy feet. Though it seems he does not live up to his reputation. Now I doubt that he actually has taken on ten before and come out on top. I don’t really know many details, but I’m told my Ordo did it. And I am proud of them. It seems our training sessions with Varg have paid off. That said, barbaric mercenarys like khabul can be killed if overwhelmed in sheer number. Though I like to think it’s because my men, and women, have risen as far as battle is concerned. I will be increasing our sessions I think.

I believe Triah was the right choice to make as my second. She has good experience, battle prowess, and she is human. She is a good mirror to me and I think she wil. Most importantly, she is good at recruitment- where I lack skill in. I have never been good with social graces. I thank the Lord of Three Thunders for bringing her to me. I suppose it is as Theo says..


Hoar provides.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Sat Oct 21, 2017 10:58 pm

[It seems some time has passed since the last entry. The silence is answered with frantic scribbles, the handwriting doesn’t seem as neat.]

I do not know what is reality and what is not anymore. A secret I have been coveting for a long while now. Ever since.. I touched HIS altar, I’ve been having dreams.. Nightmares. My fears were confirmed, I brought back something with me from the shadow plane. It plagues me. Where I had no shadow, now I have one. I can’t go to anyone. I don’t trust anyone with knowledge of magic well enough for it. Veritas is the only one I remotely extend any respect and trust for, and even then he and I have been iffy as of late. It’s hard to tell with him. I thought I had lost a friend but now.. He treats me as if nothing happened.

Perhaps the apology was enough to make up for the crippled bridge that had laid between us. I am uncertain.. To be honest, I am uncertain if I even had that fight with him. Did he actually come to my house? Did he actually accuse me of being in some sort of Cordorian Conspiracy specifically designed to corrupt everything? Now that I think about it.. It seems a bit farfetched for an esteem wizard to be throwing such accusations around.


Things are shaky. I am having a hard time discerning between what is real or not. It as if I’m constantly walking between worlds. Worlds where different outcomes, different stories have happened. I’ve died so many times. I’ve felt it. I’ve killed so many times.. But none of it actually happened. At least.. I..
I don’t think it did. I sound crazy, I know I do. My head says this isn’t right. That I must fight it. But my blood.. Gods my blood wants me to give in. It wants me to lose myself. I am told I brought something back. Some kind of symbiotic thing.

Alara and Olivia think they can help with some ritual. For the moment, I can somewhat keep myself sane. The moonlight silk keeps it from tampering with my reality. At least temporarily. I can’t do this forever.


[The entry doesn’t seem to have an end. It simply stops.]
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Thu Dec 21, 2017 7:11 am

Hopeless.
“Let yourself become a beacon of terror for all those who are of pernicious spirit. Walk the lands bringing swift and terrible vengeance to all those who deserve it. Cruelty and fear are the weapons of the vicious, let it be turned upon them three fold. It is the bringers of doom’s place to become the dreaded avenger of the meek and downtrodden. One’s duty is not finished until the shriveled and blackened heart of evil pumps feverish with panic. Always remember to walk the line of his teachings, punish the wicked for the sake of retribution, but do not begin to perform evil purely for its own sake.” - The Doombringer


It has been some weeks, maybe a few months since my last entry. It is unlike me.. Perhaps. But I think it is more that what happened has.. Unsettled me.

But, now I am free. Alara completed the ritual and whatever plagued me is now gone and banished. She has proven to me her worth and her loyalty. I consider her another member of my family now. I was wary of her at first.. Yes. She seemed to sweep into Pierce’s life so quickly. I was at first suspicious of her intentions. Did she mean us harm? Was she only getting close because of his title as Chancellor.

Now, I can rest and not worry. In fact, I have sworn an oath to protect her as my own family. I will not let harm come to her again- and those that did will reap my wrath and weep with regret.


... I am really getting into this. Bad Nehala.

Vadrien.. I can’t talk about him. Not even here. I feel like.. I’ve been torn apart. Forced to choose between my family and someone I cared about deeply.. I know this will not end good. I wish they would just get along... but it’s too late for that. Theo and Pierce see him as a murderer now. Because he is..

He acted as one who has wronged. He did not take vengeance on Kent. He killed him for gossiping. He should have simply cut out kent’s tongue. That would have been a just punishment.. But no. He let his blood control him. He killed Ceviran too.. I.. I do not know how to feel about it. I don’t want to. I refuse to confront this situation. I.. simply can’t. I am too emotionally invested here. If the others wish to reap vengeance then they must do that.. But I cannot be involved.


[There is a break, as if time had passed between entries.]

Ever since that thing was removed, I’ve been seeing my world fall apart. Just about all I have left is the Ordo. Even then.. That is not guaranteed. Pierce never sees the things I do right. He’s only around for the mistakes I seemed to make. It doesn’t matter that I kept my promise and I got Alara back. - It doesn’t matter that I avenged her. It doesn’t even matter that I helped stop a demon invasion. No..

All he seems to care about is whether or not people are complaining to him. And the worst part is.. People will always complain to him. And all it does it make him hate me more.

I am nothing but a weapon to him now. From his own lips.

Theoros.. Has disappeared. I never see him. I suspect this is Vashti’s influence. Soon enough, I am sure he will hate me too. If he doesn’t already.

Thazar has never liked me. He was always silent about it, but I knew. I’m not really sure there is much to salvage there.

Veritas. Veritas... told me to never speak with him again. I still do not know why. I still don’t. Soon after, he was taken by a dragon as Astra says. He never returned.. I am contemplating attempting to find this.. Orias.. And slay him for taking Veritas. Despite what he asked of me.

I guess there is still some hope. There are still some people that I can trust. I guess all I can do now is focus on my job. I will speak with Alara soon. Perhaps she can give me some guidance. The Lord knows I am desperately in need of it. I do not wish to spend the rest of my days like this.
Last edited by The Salt Elemental on Wed Dec 27, 2017 2:44 am, edited 2 times in total.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Thu Dec 21, 2017 7:41 am

Alive.

It’s been months now, a year at least. I left.. So abruptly. I feel a bit of regret, leaving when I did. I know when I return, if I return, the Ordo will be in ashes... Cordor will be there. Theoros and Pierce would not let it burn. With that in mind, it was easy to leave. I only really had one other person waiting for me. So.. not much to lose. Fortunately, for me, I’ve received good news since arriving in Calimshan.
My family has grown. It was, perhaps, the happiest news I’ve had in a long time. A former colleague from my homeland contacted me before I left. Apparently a man had been throwing around a picture that held a similar visage to mine around the docks of Memnon. I.. had to leave. Then and there. The chance that.. He was alive, my father, was simply too great. I had so many questions... And so few answers.

But I found him.

His name is Azale.. And he is just as grey as me. Our shade is perhaps the same color. I feel I have been blessed to have spent so long with him. All these months, we travelled around.. Talking.. Laughing. I feel as if a hole has been filled. Something long ago lost.. Regained. It feels so good to have someone who can relate. And we are so similar... I must take after him.

He’d never heard of Arelith before. And- likely never will. He hates sea-travel. Can’t stand it. He simply gets too sick. Which.. Is a truly a shame. I would have loved to introduce him to those I care about. The family I made. But.. that’s okay. I have him in my life once more, and now I needn’t worry. He is now going to stay in Akta’s My home in Memnon. I’ll be able to write him as much as I want now. - Which frankly.. Makes me excited that I’ll have someone to write to other than this flimsy journal... As for my future?

I likely will not return to the position of Commander, even if I am asked. I do not believe I can continue the charade.
The facade that I actually believe these people appreciate me or care. Or the hope that I could create a place for my kind to live.. Peacefully.

It was always a child’s dream. To have a place where tieflings might not be looked upon in.. fear.

I never should have gotten my hopes up. I saw the opportunity and I squandered it. I tried too hard to do it all alone and it got me- nothing. One woman cannot create that much change. She could put a dent in it.. But to move mountains, that.. Simply cannot be. People need to be willing to change. You can’t force them. I’ve tried.

And they are not.. nor will they likely ever be. Because they’re humans. And humans are imperfect. Deplorable. Ill-fit. Selfish. Garbage. Every human I know has just about let me down... Funnily enough, those with elven blood are the only ones who don’t. Perhaps humans need to learn a lesson from the fair-folk in acceptance of others. Maybe if humans saw half-bloods as nothing but cousins I would have turned out.. different.

Hm. That Perfect-One priest might be filled with joy if he ever read this. Now that I’ve come to my ‘senses.’.. More like bitterness has caused me to be this way. I cannot change humankind, so therefore I will strive to be above it. My children will do the same- if I ever have any at least. At least I’ll outlive all the bitter curs that live in Cordor. Each and every one of those ungrateful people. The ones who hated. Who spit fire.. I at least have comfort in this.

Ceviran, I know, will at least be there. Or here. Wherever his work takes us. I figure I may as well spend the rest of my days keeping him safe- aside from doing my duties to Hoar. I take comfort that I will always have someone to come home to, or to return to. In the end, I guess that’s all I ever really wanted. I suppose it was silly to.. Try and go against my nature. To strive for.. More. I should have known even my actions would be tainted. Even in all my years of discipline.. My blood still affects me.

Ha.. So much for pride.


[There is a pause in the writing.]

If Ceviran is a slave of drow when.. I get back.. Or dead.. I will go on a warpath.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Wed Dec 27, 2017 8:09 am

The Bond

“Family is not defined by your blood. The bonds and ties you make with those in life make up something far greater than the tangible world around us. Rather, it is the intangible... the ethereal, the untouchable, the incorporeal parts of us that seem to breed the deepest loyalty and affection in one another. Through this, there is no one that we cannot connect with or share empathy for. It is through these parts that we create and forge our own path and bonds in life, not those preordained for us at birth.” - Commander Vayniah T’rizis of the Fourth Company.


There is a saying where I come from.

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”

Many often mistake or misuse this saying. They say, ‘Blood is thicker than water’. They use that saying to say that your family is all you have in life. These are the only people who will take care of you, no matter what you do or what happens. It is used as manipulation. It is used to brainwash. But this sentence is wrong.

The word covenant is not from some proverb or holy book of the Gods. It is used to mean the word ‘agreement’ or ‘bond’. A deal. A contract. An experience.
Originally, it was said between soldiers in war. Meaning that the bond experienced between those who survive and work together amongst one another.. Is thicker than that of even family or the water of the womb. It isn’t about family at all, but rather the bond between people that connects them on such a personal level because of the things they weather together with teamwork and cooperation.

Of course, this saying is interpreted in many ways, and most have a different ideology about it. Even I do.

For me? I believe it is used to describe the Bond. Yes, in capital letters. The Bond is what I refer to as the relationships and interactions of people. The very vast amount of things and reasons that bring people together. That intangible connection that people feel amongst each other and possibly amongst other races.

For the elves, they call it ‘Tel-quissir’. Or ‘The People’. Meaning their bond is among race. Among their connection to one another, even if it were not by blood. For elves, this concept is crucial to society. There is even a deeper connection that they have developed, and aptly name, the elven bond. I am told it is a beautiful thing to experience. An intangible connection between souls. Irreversible and intimate. The ultimate form of love and friendship alike. Lovers, friends, sisters, brothers, mothers and fathers, all can choose to take this bond alike. It is not simply a bond between lovers like marriage, it can be for all folks and all different kinds of bonds. Even the more spectacular thing.. An elf can choose to share this incorporeal bond with those outside his or her own race. They can share that beauty and compassion with others. Though they rarely do because other races do not understand the meaning of this bond.. The fact that they can and will makes them a pinnacle of all societies. A community that all races should strive to be like or mirror because of the amount of things the elves do that are right.

For humans, they call it many things. It’s an abstract thing to them. Human compassion, fellowship, human decency, love for one's fellow man, comradery. Unfortunately, humans believe this to be something they have, but when they are faced with hard choices, most cowardly reject this concept and look out for themselves. You cannot blame them. They’re inferior, imperfect creatures. Children.

And for other races? Well. I never really bothered to learn much about dwarves or hins. Or even orcs. But I do know that orcs feel companionship and a sense of community through their tribes. If you aren’t with a tribe then you’re not a true ‘orc’. I know that dwarves are isolationists- or at least the ones on this island are- and that they look out for their people first. And I know that hins are secretive and look out for one another in a similar way to the dwarves. I believe every race has the capacity for this.. Bond.

Even us tieflings. It’s just.. Harder for us to have because we are bred and born into an unforgiving world who hates us for something we are simply born with. We even distrust each other. For me, when I see another tiefling.. I am automatically suspicious. It is likely they are not born of the same lineage and it is even more likely that they are not an odd one out. It is more likely they have given into their blood and follow a dangerous path. But- despite that distrust.. I feel a sense of comradery too. I see them as I see myself. They grew up with the same hardships, the same treatment that I did. They live the same way I do- barely an outcast but still tolerated. Seen as an annoyance but not quite taken enough notice to be absolutely hated. - Though I suppose I can’t say that anymore about myself. It’s quite clear my human cousins dislike my presence and do not want my protection... But that isn’t the point of this rant.

My point of it all, non-existent reader, is that this bond is something that is known and felt throughout all species and all races. Each and every one of us feel this sense of.. Togetherness. Community. And we cling to each other for protection, power, might, strength.. Everything. Even those races that are deemed evil do it. Look at Dis. A devil-filled city. Sure, devils don’t get along with one another and they don’t always have that ‘feel-good’ lovey-dovey kind of thing but.. They do share battle with one another. They all cling together and fight that which is the scum of demons. They do trade with one another. And from time to time.. They help one another. Even if it’s to only better themselves. Their intentions are dark yes, but you can’t deny that as a race they have an instinct to stick together.

This bond is fundamental. It is the survival of each and every species. And I have yet to come across any species where some form of this Bond doesn’t exist. Even demons, the most chaotic and evil things in the worlds, ban together and form alliances. Feeble as they are.

That being said... where does this leave me? How do I fit in? Do I feel this with my fellow cousins, the Humans, or the tieflings? Do I feel the draw of my devil-brethren?

The answer is.. Simple. Of course I do. I am not exempt. I feel the draw of my blood to embrace my devilish heritage. I feel the need to seek out human companionship. To earn.. Their praise and love. I feel the need and desire that any human woman would. But.. that does not mean I get it. Or that my efforts are reciprocated.

I know just as well how they feel about me. The humans see me as a demon or a devil. The devil’s see me as barely anything like them. Trying to gain the love of so many humans is fruitless and, speaking from experience, a thankless and impossible task. Trying to feel any closeness with a devil is straight up stupid and I certainly know better than to trust any of my fiendish ancestors.

So where must I get this bond from? Whom do I share it?

Months ago, I had an answer to that question. At least.. I thought I did. My pride wouldn’t allow me to admit that I had lost many that I considered to share this bond with. And my paranoia and harsh attitude doesn’t allow me to stepforward and forge new bonds. My reputation doesn’t exactly help, either. I’m not blind. I am very aware of the talk that skulks behind my back and in the shadows. I’m aware people I could easily fell or not so easily fell throw daggers made with words upon my back. I’m even aware that those, those I considered to have the familial bond with me, speak ill of me to my back. To the Radiant Heart. To other people. As if they must make ‘excuses’. I don’t blame them. I have made mistakes. But those mistakes don’t cover up what good I have done. I just.. Wish they could see it... Perhaps I resent them a little. For not supporting me. But.. that is a selfish thought. And perhaps my wishes are a bit selfish now that I write this down. I understand their need to fit in with others. I understand that.. They may need to sacrifice me to continue to feel the Bond with other humans, other people. I wish I could be angry about that. - Hells, I wish I could hate them for it. But I don’t. I still love them. Even Veritas. Someone I regarded as a good friend, even though I did not understand him most of the time. Despite his asking me to keep away, I would die keeping him safe.

For me, blood is thicker than water. I shed blood for these people. I shed blood with Theoros, Pierce, Veritas.. All of them. I bled for them. I have even come close to death for them. Would be if it weren’t for them in some cases. This bond I have forged with them, it cannot be broken. No matter how mad they are with me. No matter how broken they feel it is. And no matter how they treat me. They.. were my family. And they always will be.

I wish I could find the fire in my soul to be angry with them for how they treat me now. I wish that.. I could fight back. I wish I could stand up and tell them how much I actually did trying to salvage and save everything that burned or try to keep this ship afloat. But I can’t.

Why, you may ask my non-existent reader?

I’m not the victim here. In light of all that has happened and the good things that I did do, I didn’t help everything. I did add fuel to some of those problems, even if it was unintentional. I didn’t make it easy on them. And I did do things that rightfully earned distrust. Things that I do regret. Yes, poor me. But hells, I kinda deserve it. So.. I will resign myself to this fate of being held at arm's length. I understand. I’ve made my peace with that.

I wish I could tell that to their faces.

I know of those I do have. Lucien, Alara, Ceviran.. Others. I know they are there for me. But.. I do wonder sometimes for how long. How long before they turn their blame to me... How long before they see me as the problem just as Pierce and Theoros did? How long.. Before my trust is betrayed?

I wish I had the answer.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Sun Jan 07, 2018 3:48 am

Compassion
“ Compassion is the formative virtue in our treatment of the innocent. It flows from the truth that life is precious, and that those who wish to live simply and well have enough troubles doing so, and the resolve to make that aim easier.
The compassionate heart understands that cruelty is the enemy of the decency within our hearts, and moves to thwart it at every turn imaginable.”
-Virtue of Compassion, unknown philosopher.
I have met someone new. A strange concept, I feel, these days. At least to me. Someone who has lived on this island for six years. I hear many who come to these islands leave after a few years. They become irrelevant, old, die, succumb to some dastardly fate, or simply rejoin their lives and families on the mainland. Those who do not, receive the cold shoulder. They must die soon or leave... Or continue on whilst the rest of the populace thrives with newness and change. It is a strange concept that many share only here on the island of Arelith.
I’v- this isn’t what I desired to talk about. No. I shall not write about that right now. I want to talk about this person.

This new person that I met.. Has ended up being the strangest ally I think I have ever met. It is not that he as a person is strange, or that his personality is, but rather the circumstance for the odd acquaintanceship.

I think it is possibly because his significant other, whose name shall certainly not be written in this journal, has spent quite a lot of her time meddling with me whilst I carried the mantle of Commander.

You would think that this man would dislike me. Hate me. Loathe me. I have no illusion that he has been fed the same filth and poison that many of the other paladins on this island are fed on- not just me- but tieflings in particular.
But.. he doesn’t. At least he has reserved his judgement for himself. It is this that I respect.. Immensely. That is a rare thing to see in humans these days. Reserving their opinions for their own experience rather than the rumors they hear.

His name is Quentin Vale, and he is a paladin of the Morninglord. Lathander. Yes. You are hearing that right, dear journal. A paladin. A tiefling and a paladin getting along. I feel as if the world might end or we might see flaming, flying piglets.

I thought be like Rashti Vashti and Hyoskos? Hipskis? Whatever. I thought Quentin would act like them. Call me a carrion eater at the moment of meeting me. Spit at me. Threaten me. No... He looked at me with kindness and he treated me with common decency. Respect. I was caught off guard. Pleasantly, of course. It touched my heart. No one had treated me like that just in the first few moments of meeting one another. Even Ceviran studied me with distrust before we grew close.

To be honest, it has all happened very quickly. I’m not quite sure how we ever got to talking. - Just that we did. I think it was in the barracks when we were speaking with Baranor about staying in the guard but my memory is not perfect. I am only glad that it did. Somehow, we started to spend time slaying devils and demons together. And just this past tenday, we took to slaying spree through the undead that plague Manfreid’s land. I know. Slaying things is perhaps not the best way to befriend a paladin, but I think he understands the violence and the agony that churns inside of me. That.. need to express what makes my blood boil. The monster. I know that I do good. I try too, at least. I kill things that go bump in the night. I slay things that harm the innocent. I am not paladin but.. I do think I make some difference. And that counts for something. I think he recognized that. He recognized the hope and yearning in my soul to fight what I am.

In a perplexing way, Quentin reminds me of Alara.. Rest her soul. He’s like this.. Strange mix between Theoros and Alara that I never really saw coming. Stoic, yes kind and understanding. Strong, but not unwilling to speak of feelings or the depravity of life. Reserved, but is able to open up just enough to relate to.

I didn’t really know much about Lathander. In fact, all I know of this god is what I have learned from Quentin within the past three tendays. His god seems to be a mix, as far as I can tell, between Eilistraee and Sune- except his symbol is of the sun. Apparently, the Morninglord is a god of hope, compassion, forgiveness, redemption, justice, change, and new beginnings. He talks a lot about fate and new horizons. I admit that- I feel drawn to this god. Hope is one of the things that, I believe, keeps me going. Forgiveness and redemption is something I have longed for, that I seek from my family. The chance for a new beginning from the ashes and fires that laid waste to my life. I am addicted to conversations with this paladin. - Gods, I thought I’d never write that. That’s weird.

Every conversation seems to be centered on some kind of past experience, personal feeling, moral or philosophical debate. Of course, he and I do have our differences. And I believe he does not show most of who he is. But.. that is okay. It’s good to not simply put ones full trust into someone they just met. Friendship is a serious thing that takes a while to cultivate. Like a seed that needs to grow into a plant before one can prosper from it.

I find myself telling him about things that I have not even told Ceviran. Things that I truly hang with guilt and shame on my soul. Not any mistake that I made in my professional career, but the mistakes I made in my personal life. Things.. I don’t even like admitting to myself. Things that I think I could only admit to Alara.
I am still shocked I admitted it, allowed, to him. I told him about what I did. I don’t think I have even written about what I did here, in my journal. I don’t think I’ve written about any of the personal bad decisions I made..

I lied..
I deceived the people I.. cared for the most.
I almost got Cev killed.
I almost got myself killed.
And I betrayed their trust. All of them.

Because I thought I could have both. I thought.. Somehow I could turn him. Get him to care about Theoros and Pierce. To see them as family as I saw them.
The other tiefling I had in my life... I thought I could turn to good. I was.. Foolish. I believed I could teach him to be like me. I believed.. I could get him to see Pierce and Theo. To love them as I did. As family. I ignored the truth because I didn’t want to believe it. Pierce and Theo never would have liked this tiefling. And the tiefling never would have trusted them. I should have made a decisions. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was weak. I chose both and because of my lies I lost both. The tiefling fell into darkness.. And Theo never wishes to speak with me again. I cannot speak for Pierce. I don’t know how he feels. But I know he speaks words of poison behind my back...
I know what I did was wrong. I almost got Ceviran killed. I did get him killed. And Kent is six-feet under at the hand of this dark tiefling... and at my hand too- even if I didn't actually physically harm them. I foolishly thought I could do a paladin's job. I thought I could save my kin. I hoped I could change his mind..

But I did it in all the wrong ways. And I hurt so many in the process. And bless Alara. Bless Ceviran, they were the only ones who knew. The only ones who kept me from falling into the darkness myself. I fear if not for them, my shame and my guilt would have consumed me.

Oh Safiyya, what would you say to me now? Would you churn me too? Hate me for what I have done?

... I would.

...
I told him about it. Most of it. I don’t know how or why. It just.. Came up, and I talked. In the middle of Guldorand, no less.

He didn't smite me. He didn’t even try. He gazed at me with sympathy. If it had been anyone else, I would have glared and told him to spare me the pity. But from him, it was genuine. Nor did he wish I suffer more for what happened. That being with my blood was a punishment enough. Somehow, it doesn’t feel enough.

I do not care if he says we are not friends. I don’t care if he says we are only allies in the fight for what is good. This man has given me more than many of my own friends ever cared to. I consider him my friend. I want him to be my friend... to look at me as a shield-sister. I have this desire in my heart to prove his doubts and distrust against those of my race wrong.

And as emotionally charged, and ridiculous a lot of this probably sounds, I can’t help but write about it. For the longest time, I’ve held my eyes closed and moved with the motions. It’s been a while since I actually desired to befriend someone else. A long while since I.. had the desire to meet their expectations of me. I am trying to not put him on a pedestal. I know Quentin is just a man. He is just a mortal like the rest of us. He has his own mistakes and flaws. There are things he can’t possibly relate to with me.

Like how I see Rashti Vashti or the dwarves. He can’t relate to the undeniable treatment that my race, or at least what I have experienced, gets among people like them. For me, I have only met a single dwarf who has ever treated me with common decency or respect. All others have, from the moment they opened their mouths, treated me as garbage. The only time they give me respect is when I have shown up to save their hole in the wall of a city from certain doom like with the duergar this past tenday. And I am certain that is just because they didn’t notice my horns weren’t attached to my helm. Vashti is worse. I tried to befriend her. I needed to. I tried.. Hard. But the only time she ever attempted to be nice was when she wanted information from me. She never showed me kindness. She never showed me patience. She showed her arse and bit her thumb at me that’s what she did. She is no saint. She’s evil.


But Quentin does not see this. In fact he has made me promise not to insult Rashti Vashti in his presence. It is.. frustrating... The dwarves have ever only been kind to him. Vashti was only ever kind to him. Because... he’s human. Because he’s a paladin. It’s not the same because he won’t ever experience that hatred that tieflings do.

That’s okay. I won’t expect him to understand. At least not yet. Maybe in time he will.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Fri Jan 19, 2018 12:03 am

Shattered
"It’s over now, isn’t it?"
I need to stop lying to myself. I have become an idiot. A foolish woman grasping at the receding entrails of what used to be my family. I should never have told myself that they would love or care for me again. It only makes this harder. It only makes the blow.. Hurt more.
Pierce is no longer any brother of mine. And if I am being honest, Theoros wasn’t a long time ago. How could he betray me? Is this some twisted form of retribution that he believes I deserve? Has Alara’s death.. Truly twisted him so much?
I think the sad truth is that.. It has. He would never harm people. At least before I left. He tried to help them! He stood up for something good. But now he is.. There is a darkness in him. It isn’t the stealing of the treasury that has made me come to this conclusion. No it is the blackmailing of Alastair with that gold to berate me over murdering a murderer. I gave just retribution to De Rais.. and he complains I am too violent? What is wrong with him? I have not harmed a single innocent soul from returning. All of them have been guilty of horrid crimes.
I can’t keep going like this. Theoros is right. I will not see him or Pierce again. But it is not on his own volition. It is on mine. They never were my family. Not since we came to Cordor. They died with Safiyyah. The city corrupted them too. Not just me. I just wanted to believe that I wasn’t alone in this world. That I had someone to lean on. - But I didn’t. They always looked out for each other above me. They used me. Blamed me for their mistakes and I oh so lovingly allowed it to happen. I was the problem, to them. Always a problem. And every time someone complained.. They believed that and the rumors.. Not me. They never believed me. I can see this now. I knew for a very long time, even as commander, that Pierce spoke ill of me behind my back. Contributed to tarnishing my name. He burned and burned at my love and trust until there was nothing but ash.
But I was so desperate for his approval that I was blinded to it. And I chose to be.. Quentin isn’t even my friend (yet) and he treats me with more kindness and respect that Pierce ever did. That Theo ever did..
What a fool I am. For all the strength I possess, my heart seems to be my biggest weakness. If only I could simply tear it out, toss it aside, and scream at it to never harm me again. I let myself fall into these traps of manipulation and sacrifice because I so badly desire to be wanted and loved. For all my power, does this fact make me weak?
I am told that love and hope are the strongest forces in life. Quentin constantly talks about new beginnings, compassion, and hope. But what happens when those things become corrupted and twisted?
If Theoros ever comes to kill me, as I made him promise to should I ever give into my blood.. I will not hesitate to introduce him to our Lord. I am not afraid, anymore. I know my blood will not take me. And I know what I am doing is not wrong, otherwise Quentin would shun me. So would Ceviran and Berenor. I know what I do is right. My conviction is no longer in question. And should he raise blade, we will come to blows. And he will perish. Because he does not do the work that I do. He does not hunt those our lord asks us to. Not actively.
If Pierce should ever come for me, I will lay him next to Alara (that’s if I ever learn where she was buried). Forgive me, Alara. But it seems our family was always destined to fall apart. It was fated to fall.
Alara is dead now. She died whilst I was away. I should have been here, to see her at the end. But I was an ocean apart spending time with my father. I didn’t think I would lose anyone whilst I was gone. I thought she had plenty of time.. Pierce will not tell me where she is buried. As if to spite me... I cannot stop grieving for her. I can’t even say goodbye or find closure because I can’t even tell her to her face to ask for forgiveness for being away. I promised her I would protect her. And she in turn asked me to be her squire, just a few hours before I left. I wonder what she thought when I left. Did she miss me? Did she care as I did? Did she think of me in the end? Did she worry as she always did in life? What would she say?
I will see her again someday, I hope.
But with that knowledge.

With Alara gone, the last thread that held our ‘clan’ together, as Safiyyah would say, is over now.

But that's okay.

Because I don't need Theo or Pierce anymore. I have made new friends. I had made a new family.
The ironic part is that I am far happier than I was before. Perhaps it is because I do not have to deal with the stress of being Commander? Or perhaps it is because I do not have Pierce constantly jumping down my throat.
This is the last time I will speak of Theoros or Pierce. Or at least I will try not to focus on them anymore. Theoros, despite not being a priest, declared me excommunicated from the hoaran church at some point in the past.
They didn’t even tell me.
If they want to cover their own tracks, then fine. I want nothing to do with it, nor do their words define my faith. My prayers are still answered by Hoar. I know what I do is right. At least I do something.
Quentin is right. They do not define me. Their words are like rain. It washes over me and disappears. My wings are sprout and I have taken off. They cannot hold me down anymore.

As far as I am concerned. They are heretics.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Thu Feb 01, 2018 11:02 pm

Justice
“You think your power is what shapes the world you walk in, but that is an illusion. Your choices are what shape the world. You think your power will protect you from the consequences of those choices, but you are wrong. You create your own rewards. There is a judge. There is justice in this world, and one day, you will receive what you have earned. Choose carefully.” - Virtue of Justice.
So good news! Not all dwarves are rodents.

Or pricks, for that matter.

I’ve, somehow, managed to befriend the Herald of Brog. Again, life has become.. Ironic. I hate his race with every fiber of my being. Not one dwarf, aside from Ragart, has treated me kindly or has not immediately insulted me. Even then, Ragart tried to get me fired and thrown from Cordor before he came to be a friend.

But Gorudan was kind from the start. Again, within tendays of my return to the island, fate has brought me to another person who has defied my views on people. First Quentin defied my views on all paladins, and now Gorudan makes me question my hatred of the dwarven people. Of course, his people still sound like sodding curs. His own god teaches dwarves before anyone else. Gorudan himself is almost an outcast. Hated because he loves all people.. Equally. How.. sodding screwed up is that? The dwarven people do not have my respect whatsoever and never will. But Gorudan does.

I have seen how they treat him. It’s despicable. Heartless. It makes me want to slaughter them.

But I won’t. Because I’m better than that... Right? Bad Nehala.

...

I have been thinking a lot about the world. I’ve been thinking a lot about virtues and ideals that we hold ourselves to. Justice seems to come up so often now that I find myself set on repeat. I realise that I no longer fight for vengeance. And.. I haven’t for a while. I feel.. Guilty. Hoar has always taken care of me. Always protected me. Why would I ever leave him? He and I are similar. We walk between light and darkness, good and evil. Yet those who tempt us never succeed, we do our own thing. And we do it well.

Yet I find my faith dwindling. And there isn’t much I can do about it.

I don’t fight for vengeance anymore. I fight for.. Justice. That’s what it’s always about.

I have to admit to myself that Hoar does not.. Seem as appealing as he once did to me. I once loved him as my patron. - I still do. But.. I do not feel like I am fighting for the same ideals I once was. Those ideals.. That moral... it’s been shifted.

I can’t really keep denying these emotions or feelings. I’ve somehow crossed this line. And though Hoar answers my prayers, I feel distant.

I thought I would have more to say about this. I originally started this page thinking I’d go on and on about justice. But I suppose my inner conflicted feelings as of late is preventing me from going on some idealistic rant.
I blame this on the fact that my ideals are.. Changing. And so is my foundation for what I believe to be right and wrong.

... I wanted to write more but now I just don't feel like it. Sorry diary. There's just too much going on in my mind. I can't put it all down just yet.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Mon Feb 05, 2018 7:57 pm

The End of Family

Unsurprisingly, things have changed so much. I have officially given up Hoar as my personal deity of worship. For a while, I was even godless. Me! Ha! An Apostate!
I have switched my faith to Lathander. Though this is no news for anyone I love. This has been months in the making really. Months of talking and listening to Quentin and co. It’s funny that I never thought I’d turn from Hoar. But, I guess I still technically haven’t. The Lord of Three Thunders still answers my prayers. He still heals me in battle when I ask, favoring the ironic justice of a devil-born tiefling slaying devils on their own home plane. I still give him prayers as he has been my patron ever since I was a young girl. So I guess it’s not that I’ve abandoned Hoar completely but I have turned towards a new dawn and a new beginning.

And honestly? I think the Lord of Three Thunders understands my needs. I think he encourages giving Lathandar praise. Maybe I’m being silly but- Theoros claims of me being an apostate came at a weird time. When my faith was actually waning a little due to Quentins influence.
Anyway.. Back to the news updates..

Quentin finally called me his friend. Vashti returned - much to my chagrin. Cev almost quit again. I recruited nine people in one tenday for the guard. I’ve made new friends such as Iridorezara, Sheng Zhao, and Syl’reth (Silky). And I feel like I’m losing friends like.. Lucien.
And I, think, I convinced Vance to seek redemption. Maybe. I hope. He reminds me of a more chaotic version of myself when I was a teenager in some twisted way.

That is honestly.. Just the summery.

Oh...

Theoros Petrides is dead..

Good riddance.




Perhaps that is.. A terrible thing to say.. But that man brought me so much grief and heartache. I truly cared for him and Pierce and they.. Turned on me. I’m not going to play victim. I made mistakes. But they chose to make their decisions. And I made mine.

I did cry. A little. For the loss of what I once loved.

Somewhere deep inside, I know I still care. But my blood and my hatred is boiling over that love and that regret. I know what Quentin would say.
‘Stop thinking about it. Lay it to rest. And look towards a new dawn. There will be new beginnings and more chances to do better.’

I know that I should.

But it is hard. Especially when I held onto a grudge for so long now.

Despite my feelings on this... I feel bad for Vashti.

Yes, I know. What the hells Nehala? The woman has treated you no better than dirt the entire time you’ve known her. She turned them against you. She spit on you and called you names. And when you dared speak out, she challenged you for playing the victim card.. Even though you were.
I know. I should feel nothing but loathing.

And I do loathe her. To some degree. But I do not.. Hate her. I feel.. Sorry for her.

I’ve seen how she treats others when she does not notice my presence. Perhaps if I were fully human, she’d have treated me the same. I understand she hates my blood. And though it’s unfair of her, I.. get it. I feel.. Sympathy for her. Empathy. I know what she is going through right now. And my heart genuinely aches with compassion for the trials she will now face personally.

Of course I would never admit this to her. Never. She’d only see it as a weakness to exploit and harm me more.

Hoar had seen fit that all his religious things come into my care, I believe. The poetic irony of the fake-priest’s things coming into care of the person he claimed an apostate makes me want to sing praises to the Lord of Three Thunders with joy in my heart. But to her, to Vashti, those items were her everything. It was everything she had left of him. And I.. connected with that.

When Alara passed away, I had.. Nothing of hers. Pierce refused to even give me the location of her buried place so that I could find closure. I had to make my own hommage. I had to go trudging through the cricket caves to find a statue she made possessed and loved. I had to wait to receive a helm from Seel given from her to him.. And now to me.

I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else going through the same grief. I wouldn’t wish this kind of heartbreak on even my darkest enemy. And Vashti is far from an enemy. She is more.. An obstacle or nuisance at best. Most of all.. She’s still a person. And I wouldn’t be showing compassion if I did not give these items to her.. Would I? No..

I’d be just as petty and conceited as she is. As I was months ago.

Man.. I really have changed. Sure, I still talk about myself. I still am kinda selfish. I still constantly blabber on about justice and what’s right and wrong.. But if this had happened when I first came to this island?

...

I would have smashed Vashti where she stood. I would have put those pillars down in front of her and tore them to pieces with all the hatred and anger in my heart. I wouldn’t have cared if they were my own gods. The thought of putting her through that torture would have.. Elated me. But now.. I would only feel sadness and regret for such an action.

So I gave her his stuff. I wish I hadn’t. I knew it was the right thing to do. But I really wish I hadn’t. I don’t even have proof he’s dead.. She could have just been lying to me to get what she wants... I know. Sometimes it’s times like these that I wish I had given into my blood. Sometimes it really sucks when you have to do the right thing just because your conscious tells you to.

Until next time, loyal friend.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Mon Feb 05, 2018 8:27 pm

Graves

Well. I was not expecting this.
Ayperi’s grave was.. Desecrated. And in its place? The very Hoaran statues I gave Vashti. This is a low blow, even for her. How could she do this to someone she apparently considers a friend? The look of despair and heartbreak on Quentin’s face… That woman is more of a devil than I am. Who does she think she is? That she should choose what people to help and what people be left to die. How selfish is she? That she should desecrate someone’s grave and replace them with her lovers artifacts. How stupid is she? For breaking and burning bridges of people who have tried to help her, or people who care.

Speaking of burning bridges, Harrow really messed up.
Gonna be honest. Harrow really tempted me there for a while.

There is something I will never admit to anyone. It is that.. I enjoy.. having something special. I enjoy my blood. Yes, I am ashamed of it. I wish I never had it.. But I do enjoy having the perks that come with it. The unearthly strength I possess. My natural resistance to the heat, acid, and cold elements. Hells. Even these days the whole goat-look thing is starting to grow on me. For once, I don’t feel like a stranger in my own skin. I’ve.. embraced who I am fully. I’m even a little proud of it. Of course, I have always been forward with my blood. I’ve always been an advocate for allowing equal treatment on tieflings and humans. But now? I wouldn’t even mind a little more. I could see the use in having wings. I could see the use in growing my tail back.

For a while there, I seriously considered Harrow’s offer. Venachs offer. Their family.. I respect it. They stick together. They have order. It is something my blood yearns for. I yearn for their approval of all people. Yes, I feel tempted… but I know in the end my soul would be forfeit. Do I really want my soul to go through this.. ‘Pit of Maggots’?

Okay, I’m sorry, but if I want my soul to become soup to be reborn as something, I better sodding hells be reborn as a full badarse devil and not some blob of a pitiful existence. I know I am worth more than that. Harrow and her humans may believe that is a higher existence, but I am already with devil blood. By their logic, Kel, Venach, and I should be worth far more than they tell us.

Harrow spying on me was the last straw. She screwed up there. She could have had a powerful ally. A sister. And she squandered it.

For the time that I was godless there, I did seriously consider their promise for.. Family. But- that was just the last straw. I will find my family elsewhere if that is how they treat their family, or even prospective members. And I think they are finally becoming wiser of it.

I still respect Kel and Venach. They are my kin. But I won’t deal with Harrow. No. She has no respect or honor. - I guess I should have expected that from a pacter.

Moving on.

Seel is dying. The heart and lungs that were transplanted into his body a few years ago are being rejected by his soul and his body. I went to see them at the Winter’s Rest. I hugged him and Astra for maybe hours, sharing their pain and despair. They have come to be my close friends over the past years. Time I spent at the Tower, getting closer to Veritas, was time I spent with them too. I still dislike Jacob. I still think he’s a massive pushover and he needs to stop coddling Jadoth.. But everyone else is alright. Even Angela.

They asked me to be their children’s godmother. It.. really hit me then. I just… broke. I don’t think I could speak for ten minutes straight I just.. Sobbed. It really isn’t like me to be affected like this so heavily. It felt like I was experiencing what I should have experienced when Alara was dying. I feel as if this is what it would have been like if I’d been here.. I’m not going to leave Seel’s side. I wont leave Cordor whilst he withers. I was gone when Alara passed, I can’t just leave with Seel. I won’t make that mistake twice.

I promised them I would protect those children with every last breath and every last waking minute. What would I say? ‘No I don't want to be your kids godmother.’ That’s ridiculous.

They named them Alara and Alwin. Of course that had me crying for another five minutes straight. I don’t know how well they knew Alara, but I think she’d be bashful knowing they named their children after her. She’d probably feel honored. Gods I miss her.

All of this is very hard on me, emotionally. I am.. Attempting to keep it inside. I need to be strong for Cev and the rest of the guard. But I will admit the stress is getting to me.

Eldren was made Queen. I immediately regret my decision. I would rather a Thayan queen than someone highly influenced by the Banites. If she is actually a banite, someone will kill her. There isn’t any proof though. She’s only actually publicly thanked them for their help in proving her lineage.

Then there is Tornius and Vance. If there truly is a Cyricist-Banite alliance.. and Brog still wishes to declare war.. I worry for what may happen to Cordor.

This is bad. The Thayan should have won. She has the resources to support a highly magical army. I’m not so sure Eldren does. This all depends on Locklear’s next move. If Tornius is not excommunicated for his blatant alliance then I do not know what will happen. Only that the Radiant do not care what happens to Cordor, Myon is silent, Bendir is silently watching, and Brog and Guldorand are preparing for war.

It’s even worse that the thane is knowingly letting an infernalist run the town. One of my sources overheard Hilde speaking to Harrow about how this ‘coming war will be beneficial for us’. Referring to Harrow and her. Maybe this might explain Hilde’s weird, random loathing and distrust for me despite I having never even really met her until a few tendays ago.

Perhaps I am stressing too much over this.

Do I really care what happens to Cordor?


… No. Not really. It could fall for all I care… But I know Cev would defend it to the death. And that.. That is what I am truly afraid of.

In this aspect, Vashti and Quentin are far stronger people than me. I lean on Cev. He is my crutch, my weakness and my strength. But without him.. What would I do? The only thing I would have left to love is my patron.

I think it’d push me over the edge. I think I’d turn… I think I’d become the monster I’ve been fighting this entire time. I couldn’t handle it if he was gone. If he was taken from me. I would fight without rest. Without break. I would fight with passion and hatred. I would kill and hunt every last one responsible until my last breath. I would make them suffer. I would string them up by the fingernails and watch them writhe in agony so that they could feel my pain.

.. I am getting dark now.

My point is, my loyal friend, Cev keeps me from turning. He keeps me... anchored and grounded. He’s a promise for a better future. A happy future. One I did not believe I could have or even deserved. My.. hope. And now that we’re bonding, I.. I do not want to keep thinking about this. I am getting emotional at just the thought.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Tue Feb 13, 2018 8:32 pm

Morality

So many times, have I sat here on my bed or in the barracks, writing. At first, it was just a coping mechanism to deal with my feelings and sort out my thoughts. But now, I find solace and comfort in my journaling. I find myself asking, what is the point in this now? Do I really need to keep writing? Should I? If someone ever got their hands on this book, a lot of secrets I have held for others would be out. My own weaknesses, revealed.

Obviously, someone wants me dead. Or they wouldn’t go to the trouble of making me a headstone. I suspect Larry. He seemed like the type with that sense of humor and he’s too stupid to look at the crossed out Hoaran symbols on my chest plate. Likely he is behind on news such as faith.It’s not like I keep it very hidden.

Today, I’m in the boat. I can watch the sunrise from the harbor through my windows. I, actually, enjoy it more than sleeping in the barracks with Cev. I miss him when I sleep here, yes, but I find.. the sunrise brings me hope. It fills me with energy and motivation. Which I am sorely needing these past few ten days.

I think my willpower and resolve is finally breaking. Almost like cookies crumbling in milk. I know it is arrogant and haughty to think this but, the weight of the cities protection on my shoulders is exhausting me fast. Especially when that city has done nothing but bringing me and those I love pain and misery. It seems the only good that has come out of Cordor is Cev. And even then, this city has hurt him too.. even if he chooses to adopt a blind, optimistic point of view of Cordor. I think it is foolish of him to think this way. But I respect how he feels. This city made him order the final destruction of wharftown. Forced him to endure this burden of harming those people. He does not show it. Not to anyone but me. I understand his pain. I yearn to soothe it.

I miss Quentin’s company. It seems to be less and less these ten days. I have come to call him my closest friend. Out of all others, I consider him my brother. He is everything Theoros and Pierce should have been. He does not just say he accepts me.. he truely accepts and loves me as his sister. As... his friend.

And honestly? If I did not have Cev, I might have actually hit on him by now. But.. even if I did, I likely wouldn’t let it go anywhere. He already has so many lovers. I’m not interested in competing for love or companionship. I’m not interested in petty female fights. I wouldn’t want to become Ellie. A woman so obviously enamored and teased endlessly with a hope for marriage or more. Quentin would not marry. He is too polyamorous. Sune and Lathandar are close, after all.

In a way, I feel he is being cruel to them. Perhaps it is I that does not understand. To someone like me who is close with him, I see that he wouldn’t take a woman in a marriage bond. But to others like Ellie that just isn’t obvious to them.

Then again.. Quentin has always had a slightly cruel edge to him. Just like Vashti. I wonder what they’d be like if they were tieflings.

Anyway, I have been missing his presence lately. It seems our schedules aren’t aligning well. I wish I could take Cev away from this cursed city and stay at the radiant. Vashti would have a fit but.. I feel like he could convince her to let me stay. I have done a lot in the way of justice. It must count for something.

Speaking of justice, I’ve killed again. More than once. I feel pride in doing so. The gnoll, Vurbag, seems to keep coming back at the beckoning of his god. I have made him fall three.. maybe four times now. Twice I have skinned him and taken his head. If there is one thing I would comment him on, it would be his determination and resolve. Even if his efforts will ultimately be futile. He is weak, but strong against the new island arrivals that he kills. I suspect him to be a runt, the weakest of his so called pack... if that even exists.

Then I aided Hilde in killing a drow. Apparently he was the first male of this new drow house that’s sprung up in Barrith’s place. He wasn’t that hard. He was a snake. A Druid.

I will laugh if He learns to shapeshift into a wyrm. I have killed a dragon shape shifter before.


Vance continues to elude me. He’s gotten smart. I enjoy an enemy that thinks.

I honestly thought I broke through to him. I understand his pain. The idea that you will only harm those around you. That you can’t control yourself. That you are cursed. I read him like a book. I implored him to return to the tower and redeem himself.. atone. For a while, he looked hopeful. He looked like he wanted to. But the evil inside of him taints him I think. I had to at least try. Quentin said that everyone deserves to try for redemption if they seek it. Vance was seeking it. I was asked to cease hunting him until the tower figured it out.

I can’t help but feel my killing him on the tower grounds was my fault for his trust being broken in the tower. I told him to stay away from Jadoth. I acted on authority of the crown to execute him as a threat to Cordor. For his killings there...

I pray and I hope this was not my fault. If I am the reason he lost hope in redemption then... then I deserve to go to the hells.

But, I will not keep reminiscing on this topic. For now, I will look to the dawn for new hope.
Last edited by The Salt Elemental on Sat Feb 17, 2018 10:10 am, edited 2 times in total.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Fri Feb 16, 2018 6:35 am

How can this happen?
“Urghk.”
Boom. Squealsh. Drip.


All she could see was the color of sanguine. The color shocked her. She hadn’t expected her world to completely change and become painted with the tones of the life water that ran through all creatures. There was a ringing in her ears that drowned out the world out and muffled her senses. Her head seemed heavy, as if she were dazed..

In the distance she could almost hear the weeping of a distant woman as crows and vultures gathered overhead to watch the spectacle unfold. Their cawing cries a cacophony of torturous music that struck her ears and deafened her senses. It was as if they scorned her for standing their above their dinner. Encouraging her to move and to get out of the way of their next meal.
The tiefling felt mouth fall open. She felt the familiar iron-tinged taste that she had felt on so many other occasions. But she did not revel in its taste this day. No. She retracted with terror.

The raw, primal screams that escaped her lips were barely registered in her mind. Her knees bent and somehow she found herself on the ground. Her hands were stuck in something squishy. Something inherently.. Lumpy and wet. Her hands were red too now. And as she nelt her nose to the ground and screamed His name, the smell of new decay flushed her senses.

Before her, a grotesque pile of ash, flesh, and blood lay where he once was. Her eyes squeezed shut. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t true. She couldn’t accept this. This was not how things would end. The woman would not let it end this way.

Gingerly, pathetically, she brought the pile of remains together. She tried, desperately, to put flesh on top of flesh as her eyes clouded and she began to mumble and scream erratically. She could not control her voice. Nor the thoughts and ramblings that she spew as she brought her hands to her head and squeezed her drenched hair. Flesh fell from the top of her head, from her face, her ears, and other places of her body to the ground as she moved.


The tiefling eyes burned as liquid prespired from her eyes and wet her cheeks. Her grey skin was now the horrifying sanguine color that she feared now. Her once white and brown robes.. Were soaked and covered with the gore of her friend. Lucien.

How could he do this?

Finally, the world around her came into view as she looks up from the mess. The sky had turned red, it seemed. The buildings of the street she knelt on seemed to loom over her ominously and everything seemed.. Quiet. It was the quiet that struck true terror inside of her.

At her sides, the bottles of essences he had given her lay in a scattered wreckage. Some of them were salvageable. Others were broken and in pieces, their contents mixing with the red liquid on the street. The sanguine colors melted into the stone, moving slowly towards the slight downwards slant that lead to the sewers.

She screamed his name.

But no answer came to her from the flesh beneath her. He did not have lips anymore. Nor did he look at her with amusement as he always did. She felt her hands squeezing again, wishing to hug him once more. The woman alas, could not feel her body.

Again, she screamed his name in defiance. He would answer. He had to. This.. must be an illusion.
But again, no reply came. And in that moment, the finality of it set in.

He was gone. Numbly, she raised from the scene. Her golden slanted eyes raised to the heavens to watch the reddened sky. To her surprise, the sky was blue once more. From her body, the remnants of the event dripped off silently and added to the mess at her feet. The woman carried most of what was left on him on her. His life water, his flesh, his bone. In her arm, a large piece of bone was lodged, and across her body she felt scratches and shards of him penetrating her skin. Though the pain now stung her, the numbness continued to prevail.

“Lucien?.. Lucien!”

The words kept flowing from her mouth. In the place, upon the pile, dark energy started to glow and form. The blood that soaked the streets she clearly saw now. A perfect ring around where his body stood only moments ago. Her goat-like eyes turned back to stare at the place, her last connection to him in this world. In the distance, an elf watched in silent horror. Reginelli watched in bitter silence, his expression giving nothing away.

The Elites in the distance dared to not break the silence, as if there was some kind of holy pact that even they, scourners of her blood, honored in the death of this man. No one dared to move until she did. The minutes that passed seem like hours before she took a single step away.

“This isn’t real.”


Her thoughts didn’t seem to be her own. This was not her. It was not how she reacted to these situations. She had experienced death before. The tiefling sucked it in. Her emotions were drawn inside as she forced herself to brave the surroundings. Another step. Squelsh. Another piece of him. She tried not to think about it as she pushed herself forward.

Like some kind of zombified wraith, she sojourned on with a purpose. Each step left a trail of him behind her. It wasn’t right, she felt. It wasn’t right at all. He’d have been mortified to be walked on. But it didn’t matter.

“Quentin. Please get Q-Quentin.” The words left her as she approached the speedy, shoving all her gold at the poor halfing. The woman didn’t even notice the horrified look on the hins face as she explained her message. She barely notified the elf, Starbloom, as she screamed in horror at the demonic-looking tiefling, drenched in gore. The words exchanged between them seemed a fleeting memory.

Hours later, she paced in the Winter’s Rest. They encouraged her to sit and rest. They insisted she do so. But she was still not apart of the world. Her pieces were as torn apart as Lucien was himself on that street. All the tiefling could think about was the image of his imploding in front of her. His words.. Their last conversation. How could she say those things. It was her fault.

This was her fault. The tiefling had failed them again. Her friends. Her family. The red was gone. There was no more of it. But it was still all she could see. As she lifted her hands to look at them, she could still feel the warm liquid dripping between her fingers. In her ears, she felt pieces of his flesh still. She clawed at them, trying to get them out desperately. But she only succeeded in creating new wounds. Her eyes.. She could still feel the blinding heat, the red, in her eyes. She needed to see him again.

Soon, her footfalls were heard through the streets as the cries of her friends yelled at her to come back. She couldn’t. She had to see him again. It couldn’t be true. This must be a bad dream. Vaguely she recalled Quentin behind her and then in front of her as they marched to the scene.

But Lucien was not there. No. All that remained was the pile of flesh and bone. The blood that seeped and stained the stone still prevailed. This was the breaking point. The tiefling suddenly felt the onsalught of feeling again. She felt arms around her, holding her. But she couldn’t discern who.

She heard words.

“I have lost my best friend, and my vice-chancellor. And now the vultures shall swarm.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Alastair, Nehala. I did not care for him, but he was dear to both of you.”

She talked.

"This is my fault. The last thing I told him was I couldn't justify him killing Vashti. I couldn't.. approve of it. Because it was murder. That was the last conversation he ever had with anyone.. He just gave me some essences.. and.. and killed himself."


More words were said. She couldn’t remember who.

"I keep losing friends like this. Why did he do this?"

“He left a note on the board.”

“It looks like more than just blood to worry about...There is a malevolent air to this.”


She felt small elven hands wrap around her. Astra? Yes.. Astra. The tiefling kept her eyes closed, the image of him on her in her mind. She felt move arms. Seel? Quentin?

Quentin.

He wrapped his arms around her.

“ Its alright, Nehala. It's all going to be alright.”


She felt herself explaining as she hugged him, tightly. His embrace comforted her. She felt it, fully. It was the first thing she could feel since she saw red. The tiefling responded, wrapping her arms around the paladin. And she did not let go. Not for a while. Her will and her discipline faded as the sounds of brushing and mopping filled her ears. They were cleaning him up.

It was a sound that would continue to haunt her.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Tue Feb 20, 2018 5:39 am


Numb


Death is inevitable. It is something that every mortal must come to accept. Many, however, try to avoid it. They pitch fits. They look for loopholes. They turn to dark arts to escape it.

But no matter how many tricks and loopholes they find, it comes for everyone eventually. Death is the one assured thing in life, the one constant that we know will happen. That is why it is so scary to us.

I know this to be a fact. I know that I should be used to this by now. I should be more adjusted. I take so many lives.. And yet I expect the lives of those I love to continue to exist despite circumstances. How do I keep getting blindsided by death?

How do I keep losing people?
Safiyya.
Theoros.
Veritas. (Okay not dead, but I thought him to be dead for a long time.)
Alara.
Lucien.


I am told I need time to myself. Lots of things are told to me. I am expected to fall in line and do as they say. But how can I? How can I sit here and do nothing? Lucien always.. Always supported me. He always believed in me when others didn’t.

I feel.. Numb. I keep waiting to turn the corner and see his familiar face. I keep waiting to see him strolling around with Taelina or Alastair. I haven’t been back to my old home since it happened. His Waukeen altar stands there. How can I face it?

The last conversation.. He ever had.. He.. I told him I wasn’t okay with his murder. That he’d killed her in cold blood. Good gods, I hate Rashti. But - that doesn’t mean you just kill her because she says things you don’t like.

He told me he knew. Why didn’t I question him further? He just accepted my judgement. He didn’t fight it. He just walked off. Why didn’t I see he was hurting? That he was in trouble?

His last words.. I didn’t even know they would be just that.
“Do you want these?” He had asked as handed me essences randomly. It made me happy. I smiled.. He watched me smile. He stared. And it was silent for a few minutes as we looked at one another. And then he.. He casted destruction on himself. Did he want the last thing he saw to be me? Or did he wish for me to think this was my fault? Or was this Vance.. Giving me a message?
...

My heart is bleeding, diary. I am telling people I am okay, but I am not. I do not know what else I can do.


[The writing becomes abrupt. Tear stains litter the page along with a few ink splats.]
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Tue Feb 20, 2018 5:42 am

Tweet. Tweet. Tweet.

Light is the first thing that is seen in the morning. The brilliant visage of the sun peeks over the forest beneath her as it rises to welcome the realm of mortals to another day. The birds of the forest tweet and twitter to the satellite, welcoming it as it heralds their new morning. They sing sweet praises to the dawn in a symphony of beauty and balance.

As the sun’s rays lift from the forest onto the falls of the Nexus, a pair of golden eyes reflect it’s visage as it rose. She watched it through eyes of admiration, surrendering to the beauty of it’s radiance as it slowly washed over her. Inch by inch, her grey skin uncovered from the shroud of darkness and became exposed to the day. The rushing water of the falls fills her senses and numbs them. The birds songs were the only thing to pierce the barrier, creating a harmony that only one far away from civilization could appreciate.

“Grunngh”

The tiefling ears twitched as the sound broke through the serenading songs and disrupted her newly daily ritual. She turns her eyes to glare at the ogre beside her whom gurgled and groaned. The large creature held its neck as blood stained the grass beneath it. It casted it’s dying glares to the tiefling, who held in her hand the weapon of its destruction. Her scimitar laid precariously beside her, wet with the creature’s life fluids. Feebly, it outstretched it’s free hand toward her. A few moments passed as he tried in vain, but, eventually, resigned to his fate. The ogre laid against a rock, looking towards the forest with hatred and envy at the life it was full of. The sun caused it to shutter.

As she turned her head back to the sun’s spreading light, she spoke,
“If only you understood.”

The ogre grit his teeth. Did he understand? Who knew. The beast had tried to kill her, and that is all she cared about. He pressed his hand further to the neck, trying to stop the bleeding and prolong his life. Perhaps, he could make it out of this. She had not sliced hard enough to break an artery.

“We are alike, you know.” A bittersweet chuckle escaped her lips, “We are monsters born in a world of beauty. Destined to hate it. Destined to envy it... Destined to die in it’s benevolence.”

The ogre eyes this strange, grey-skinned creature. Though his visioned blurred, he seemed to at least notice the horns that sprout from the top of her head and curled behind her head. A crown of sin. He opened his mouth to reply in Jotun, but the words came out guttural sounding. Wincing, he knew this was not a good idea. Perhaps, it made his wound worse. So the beast remained silent.

“It’s a cruel joke, isn’t it? That we should be born into such a beautiful place.” Her tone was soft as she stared at the sunrise. Her goat-like eyes stayed fixed upon the light that covered the Arelith forest.

“You and I. We are the sins of this world. Examples of the ugliness that threatens to pervert the beauty of Toril.” The tiefling wistful sigh was lost by the crushing sound of the waterfalls around them. The ogre grunted as a spurt of blood dripped from his neck as his grip loosened, distracted by her words. It is times like these that the ogre had wished he understood what she was saying.

“Quentin says that when I die, the Morninglord will cleanse me of my blood. But.. my blood has made me who I am. Can’t it just be purified? Devils used to be angels. What am I without it?”

Splurt, gag, gnnk. The ogre dropped to the ground. He didn’t have enough energy to prop himself up anymore. He stares at the tieflings right thigh as he laid next to her, his hand still outstretched in vain. This was how he would die. The finality of it hit him. It was over. His eyes widened in fear and horror.

Suddenly, he felt hands on him. Tiny, puny hands. His nostrils flared, though in his weakened state he did not have the energy or desire to fight her. The hands picked his head and body up, facing him towards the sun. It was almost risen now, only a few slivers were still sheathed by the land. His eyes watered. He would not see another day. He didn't want to go! He didn’t want to die! For an instant, he panicked. He wanted to live, he realised. He tried to talk, tried to plead with her. But she continued to hold his face forward.

“Shh. It’s okay. Look at the light and let it cleanse your soul. You will soon be safe. You will soon cross over and you will no longer be in pain. Take comfort that this is not truly the end. It’s only a new beginning. A new sunrise.”

This sodding wench was crazy, the ogre thought. He didn’t care about the stupid sun. He wanted to live. He wasn’t ready. Curse her! Curse her back to the Hells!

With the final thought he felt death take a hold of his soul. The cold feeling started to take over and he could feel himself growing weaker. He could no longer feel his legs. His arms started to slip and his vision became blurry. His last visage was that of the sun breaking through the trees in all its glory.

Nehala let the ogre slip from her hands as he died. Perhaps she had given him a better death than many others. A pity he had to die. She wished he hadn’t attacked her. She had not wanted to kill before the sun rose. She had wanted to watch it in silence.

Too much had been on her mind. She had sought the solitude and peace these falls had to offer. The fond memories of a distant time of laughter. Before they were gone. Safiyya, Lucien, Alara.. Theoros. These waters started it all. Perhaps, one day, when she was old and grey she would come back here. And this is where she would end it. It seemed a fitting place. Ironic.

The tiefling smiled as the light finally covered her entirely and the warmth of morning sun flooded her senses. A new day had started.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Sun Feb 25, 2018 1:57 am

‘Yellow and brown... such gross colors,’ the tiefling thought as she stared at Quentin’s armor. They seemed especially bright and obnoxious as the winter breeze swept through Bendir and rustled the various wildflowers that covered the village. Quentin presently stood there, rambling about ore and ingots. His armor was bright and shiny, recently cleaned and polished to gleam as the morning sun. Fortunately for the paladin, he was charming and good looking enough for most women to overlook the fashion wardrobe meltdown that was his armor and focus on his personality and heart. Nehala smiled to herself at the thought. She secretly wondered if he wooed women on purpose. Was it a guilty pleasure of his to get attention from swooning ladies? He was a ladies man after all. What with the.. Four?.. No, there were at least five women she knew that secretly or outwardly wanted him. Hmm.. that reminded her.

“Quentin, how is Ellie doing?” She asked, waiting for him to finish. Her hands fidgeted with her gauntlets as she toyed with them. She wouldn’t have to wear that ugly brown color would she? Eugh. She wished she could take his armor from him and fix it. Why didn’t he just change it? Hers looked just fine and she used similar colors. Just.. better colors. Crap. He was talking. The tiefling’s eyes moved to stare at Quentin’s green ones.

“Ellie is touch and go. We have had long talks, but I think it’s important that we make sure she makes it to the spring so we can get those markings off of her.” He replied with a softer tone. His expression was hard but determined. He was worried for her. The tiefling knew that face well.

“Why do you say that? Why do you think she might not make it?” Nehala found herself inquiring. Did she really care about Ellie that much? She HAD tipped off Vance. She had killed people. Or at least tried. Perhaps, it would be counterproductive to start listing her failures and faults.

“She still sympathizes with the drow in the dark. Still thinks them as her sisters.” He commented in reply, his tone grave. The tieflings ears fell flat onto her shoulders. She understood Ellie’s need for family. Nehala once had the same desire as she did. To be loved.

Perhaps it was best to wait and see how Ellie turned out before making further judgement.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Mon Feb 26, 2018 10:17 pm

Regret

Here she was again. Like she was every time it happened. Except there was no altar of the Lord of Three thunders in front of her. Now, she knelt against the altar of the rising, burning star.

Hands clasp tightly upon a small pendant of a sun. So tightly that an audible crack could be heard. It glowed and shimmered beneath her hands as she prayed. She could feel the light threatening to get through her shut eyelids. In her hands, the symbol grew warm. It burned enough to make a human uncomfortable, but for her it was just the right kind of warmth. It was comforting and strangely encouraging. She clutched it tighter. He was listening to her.

The figure sat on her knees in her submissive stance. Her head was bowed down, her horns lifted towards the heavens as if they defied this action for her. Streams of water covered her body. From her wet, rain-drenched armor to the rain that fell from her eyes.

‘Blessed Morninglord, forgive me.

Give me strength.

Wash this blood away from my conscious, for I have killed again in your name.

Please, bring my salvation.

Please, wipe my soul clean from the taint that inhibits it.

Burn me with your brightest light. Cleanse me. Purify my blood.

Allow me to bring hope and light just as your dawn does to the world.


The prayer was thought and murmured repeatedly. It was all she could ask, for she had killed again in the Morninglord's name. Every time she did, she would come here and she would pray. It was a ritual now as it was before. Except now she prayed at her new Lord's altar for forgiveness instead of speaking a tale of vengeance and justice. Now she only offered a single prayer and thanks to her old master.

Despite the change of reason, it strangely didn't seem different. At least not yet, she reasoned with herself.

With each kill and with each regret made, the tiefling would kneel for hours, asking for forgiveness.

And just as every time before, the tiefling wept. Nehala leaned forward so that her forehead touched the altar’s edge, as if this could bring her closer to her Lord of the Dawn. The altar felt warm as well. In the distance of the room, a Hoaran altar stood lonely yet not unused. Strands of soft smoke billowed from some incense. It was an ironic, silent symbol.

She wept for the person she’d killed. She cried in defiance for the act. She sobbed for the people she had hurt, and for those who never forgave her. Most importantly, the tiefling wept for the truth that she had loved every minute of it. She loved every cut and every bruise. She loved the look in their eyes as the life slipped from them and her bloodlust was satisfied.

Here, in her sanctum, she allowed herself the weakness of sorrow and regret. It was here, she allowed herself to be the human she wished she was. This place was where she was vulnerable, where she allowed her soul to bled and weep for her actions of violence that she loved so dearly.

The woman held the amulet tighter. Against her forehead, which still connected with the altar, she felt the holy items she’d collected and held close to her soul. The things she considered holy and sacred. The ring Quentin had given her. Her first symbol of Lathandar. His holy book. A few others items close to her person.

Suddenly, she was pulled from her thoughts and prayers as she felt Ceviran’s hands gently clasp on her shoulders. Her goat-like slit eyes looked up at his soft, elven face and allowed a small smile to brighten her features. Despite her tears, she allowed a look of endearment to invade her expression as she viewed him. Even in the dim candle light, he glowed like an angel.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Mon Feb 26, 2018 11:17 pm

Soliloquy
Che-Che-Shing. Shhhsk. Che-Che-Shing. Shhhsk.

The dirt came loose very easily. Easier than she thought it’d been. Of all the people she’d fought and battled with, she had never had to actually bury the bodies. In fact, this was perhaps only the second time she’d ever entered the graveyard in the years that she’d lived here. Was it ironic that the first body she ever buried was her friend?

It was early, too early in her opinion. The sun hadn’t yet even peeked over the horizon, but the night sky was definitely brightening from the dark black to lighter shades of dark blue. The stars twinkled silently above them in a silent vigil as she worked at her task. Her fingers were numb, though she wasn’t cold. She was never cold. Her blood made sure of that. Beside her, a steel box, no bigger than a small child, lay next to her in deafening silence. It was all that was left of him, all that could be gathered. On top of it was an image of a dragon. A fierce, mighty silver flew regally towards the top of the box. She hoped he would have liked it.

Che-Chee-Shing. Shhhsk. Che-Che-Shing. Shhhsk.

How deep was deep enough? Surely the box would protect it’s smell from predators from digging it up? Did she really need to dig six feet? Would he rather be burned and his ashes spread? Her thoughts were filled with questions. Was she even doing this right?
Her golden eyes pierced the darkness with a soft glow. She lifted them towards the heavens once more as she stopped to breath and listen. In the distance the crows and birds of the morning chirped, knowing that the sun would soon rise to usher in another day. They chattered endlessly, happily. How could they simply act as if nothing was wrong?

Che-Chee-Shing. Shhhsk. Che-Che-Shing. Shhhsk.

She piled the last scoop of dirt onto the pile to her left. It was time. She felt the pit of her stomach drop as she stabbed the spade into the ground beside her and clenched her fists.

She silently watched the gravestone before her. A visage of Lucien’s face was aimed towards the horizon where the sun would eventually rise. It was an image of peace and happiness. As if he knew he was somewhere better. After a moment of silence, she picked up the steel box and carefully set it inside the hole.

“Hi.” She started. That seemed stupid to say. “Hello, again Lucien.” Her voice cracked.
She almost expected him to respond with some snarky, witty comment. Her throat tightened into a knot. ‘Greetings Miss Nehala’, he’d say, “It’s good to see you are well.”

“You’re missed, brother.” It was all she could get out before it started to rain and her voice caught in her throat. Her eyes blurred and she felt numb.

“I-I wish you could speak to me... I wish you could have told me what was wrong.”

“I wish there was something more I could have done. I should have hugged you more. I should have been by your side more.” She lifted a hand and rubbed at her eyes. Silently, the tiefling hoped for a reply. A hand on her shoulder. A voice to speak. A body to hug. But it never came. The only reply she received was the silence of the Cordorian Graveyard. Light started to touch them as the sun’s rays crept over the horizon. She bent forward and started to cover the box. As the dirt splashed over into the hole, filling it, she continued her soliloquy.

“I want you to know, that no matter what you did, I believed in you. I loved you. Even if I didn’t approve of killing Vashti, I know why you did it and I do not blame you for it. I know the Cyricists controlled you. I know you gave yourself to keep us safe. I know Vashti pushed you to death.” She closed her eyes tightly, “I won’t let them soil your name, Lucien. I won’t let them take away your dignity. Even as Alastair turns on me, I will remain loyal to you. You were my family. One of my closest friends. I owe you this.” She finished as the last spec of dirt landed on top of the new grave and the suns rays engulfed them together.

A speedy arrived and placed a note in her hand. Nehala read it silently before she knelt down and placed her hand on the soil, leaving an imprint, “Well.. Duty calls, Lucien. I will visit you again. I promise I will. Rest well.” With her final words, she lifted herself and started her trek down the hill and back dowards Cordor, leaving the grave to sit vigil on the lonely hill.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Sat Mar 03, 2018 8:16 pm

The Grey Devil's Gift


The Barbaric Spellsword glared with bloodshot eyes. Her teeth grit and her rigid stance gave her an air of anger. How dare she come in here like this. She hadn’t shown her face since she signed up. What pedestal did she dare raise herself up on? She had no grounds to stand on.

Her bloodshot, reddened eyes gave away her vulnerability. She’d been crying. Though, she had not been the only one. She bit out her words like a viper, “I am quitting.”

The tiefling’s expression flattened. As if she cared. No. She didn’t.

Nehala humored her as she silently sighed, “Why?” Her hand lifted as she rubbed at her own puffy, wet eyes. This really wasn’t a good time for this. She wasn’t in the mood.

"This city destroyed what family I had. Stabbed them in the backs, spat on their corpses, and buried them under false epitaphs. And now the very people that helped push the knife are running the bloody city. I'm done."

Oh honey, if only you knew the truth. Nehala felt her lips curl with distaste. The Spellsword was misguided and misinformed. She felt the knot form in her throat and her stomach drop,

“If this is about Lucien.. No. It wasn’t the city.”
She pauses, “He killed himself next to me. I should know. I.. looked into it.”

Vale and Celestia watched from the side. The conversation they had been having had come to a halt as they felt the tension in the room rise. The tiefling continued,

“There is evidence that he was being mind-controlled by Vance. Just like Tornius.” She states clearly, painfully.
Vale turned his head and sneered, “That man did it to himself. Nothing forced a person to kill themselves. That makes no sense.” The tiefling slowly turned her gaze to Vale. Her expression burned. What the sodding hells did he just say?

“Enchantment doesn’t work like that.” Is he an idiot? “ Even the strongest of compulsions can't be used to cause self harm. It just doesn't work like that, unless he's developed a spell beyond any which exist.” Her hands started to shake as the fire within her started a slow burn. Her eyes glared sharp hot knives at Vale Siger. He needed to stop. His lips needed to stop moving those lips.
There was a crack and hit. The Spellsword had hit her reports board. Did she want to die? The tiefling’s attention turned to Bria once more.

“He wasn’t sodding COMPULSED!” She screamed at Nehala. Her ears flattened against her skull at the woman’s tone of voice. . Nehala hadn’t killed him. She was only relaying the information she found.

"He was seen by a source, just after killing Vashti, posting a note on the iron citadel board stating 'It is done' without signing the note. Vance was scried.. taking responsibility for controlling him." She felt herself repeating. She’d relayed this so many times to so many people. It was a reflex now.

“Yes. He. Was.” She strained her words through grit, sharp teeth. Subconsciously, she took a dangerous step towards the Spellsword. Her tone had darkened to an almost inhuman sound. Her lineage was showing its ugly head.

“No it wasn’t.” Vale interjected, offensively, “That isn’t how magic works.” How dare he speak out like this. Didn’t he know what she went through? She needed him to be compelled. There was no other explanation. There was no other way. Lucien was too prideful, to loving of himself to ever do this to himself. He would never do this willingly.

More words continued as the argument progressed between the three. Celestia stood helplessly at the side, trying to interject and prove the tiefling right. Or, at least, prove Vale wrong.

"He was forced to. This was Ezra's doing. That isn't the only evidence that suggests it."

“No.. That isn't how magic bloody works” Vale protested and insisted more, his tone was stern and harsh. His expression was of stone. He didn’t care about the rising tensions. He only cared about being right.

“He could have been made to kill the Radiants, Vale, against his will, and later taken his life out of a misguided sense of responsibility and remorse” Celestia countered. Vale was a lost cause. She decided to ignore his protests and turned back to the seething Spellsword whose fist as firmly embedded into her report board. Bria had cracked the board. She was going to pay for that.

"You can quit all you want, but this city isn't to blame for what happened." Her teeth grit. "The sodding bloody cyricists are." She tried to rationalize. How could Bria be so stupid right now. Doesn’t she see? This is what Ezra and Vance wanted. They wanted this chaos to happen. Even despite that, Nehala didn’t care about Bria quitting. Bria hadn’t even shown her face since she joined. There was no loss. The tiefling only cared about the truth.

Bria raised her head with spite, rearing her sharp, ugly face, “"Your bloody paladin friends are bloody lying." Her jaw quivered out of unadulterated fury. "They are at fault, and you're gods-damned blind if you can't see that."

“Look, I think you are both too attached to this man as a frien-.” Vale interjected again, but was cut off by Bria. “SHUT IT!” She screamed at him. He didn’t belong to this conversation. The tiefling ignored him again.

“I didn’t get my info from any bloody paladins you idiot!” She found herself yelling, “I get my info from my own spies! My own scriers! Neither of which are affiliated with the Radiant OR Cordor!”

Her vision began to blurr. These circumstances were not fair. This world was not fair. Her tears spilled over onto her grey cheeks and fell to the ground in gushing waves. How dare either of them speak of him. They hadn’t been the ones to watch him die in front of them. How dare they speak like this. “NOT NOW, VALE.” She too screamed.

She tried to compromise, “I agree that Vashti had a hand in this. Her goading and her insulting behaviour spiked the situation. She is not innocent in this. She is at fault too. BUT! That wasn’t the only factor at play here. She wasn’t the only gods damn reason.” The tiefling hands clenched into hard fists. She could feel the metal bending as she buried her fingers into the palms of her hands. “The entire radiant isn't to blame. Vashti? Yeah. Probably. I'd have to agree. That sodding wench deserves whatever she has coming to her for this.” This wasn’t Quentin’s fault. Bria needed to recognize that.
“But Quentin had nothing to do with it. - And the fact that my non-cordorian spies have come up with so much info supporting the cyricists involvement in Lucien tearing himself from our lives leaves me to believe they were in fact involved.” She continued helplessly. Gods, she must look pathetic. Her voice was filled with heat but she could feel her body shaking. The tiefling was cold.

The Spellsword suddenly moved. Reaching for her belt, her fingers shook as she fumbled with the keys attached to the ring. She tore off a key, the barracks key, and threw it into the ground. The key skid a few feet from her across the marble floor, leaving scratches and a dent in it’s wake. “The Radiant tore my friends from me. They're hypocritical, lying scum, and I refuse to work under a city that abides by their rule.“ Bria, you idiot.

Think about it rationally. Lucien was too proud. Too good to do this to himself. He never would. Not if he thought it needed to be done.” Was she really this stupid? Footsteps approached the conversation. Briefly, the tiefling noted it was Quentin. Her focus however, remained on Bria.


“You’re just as blind as them.”

The Spellsword let the statement settle like dust into silence before she turned and stormed off. Nehala didn’t stop her. She still didn’t care. The Spellsword’s word meant nothing to her. She was wrong and that was the end of it. Nothing she said would affect Nehala, the tiefling reasoned with herself. Beside her, Celestia remained quiet. Her eyes were riddled with concern. Vale remained stoic and cold as he shook his head with disdain. The tiefling had nothing to say to them. Quentin’s puzzled expression watched the Spellsword’s flustered leave. He looked to Nehala for answers.

“So... Lieutenant.” Vale started. She ignored him.

“She blames the Radiant and you for Lucien’s death.” She stated simply. Her voice was a little hoarse. More tears saturated her cheeks. Quentin glanced at Vale, “Then she is an idiot. A grief stricken idiot I understand, but an idiot regardless.”

“We really, really need to talk at some point about how magic works. Because that entire scenario you painted is not only improbable, but if accurate, would be a bloody nightmare incarnate. And since I don't see the Cyricists using a magic mind control ray to control people into killing others for them then blow themselves up... I think it's safe to say the man's’ actions were his own.” Vale said a little louder, as if he knew she had been ignoring his stupid face.

The world seemed to slow as she felt the heat rise within her. It blustered and bubbled like some kind of sickly acid, waiting to be expelled from within. The fire licked her insides, thrashing and begging to be let out into the world so that they may feel her wrath. The worst of it was the dull pain in her heart and in her head. It rung like bells and hissed like serpents. She felt a weight on her chest, making it hard to breath. Her teeth bared and she felt the wet, hot tears that fell from her face in her fury. This was her gift. Her gift to the world. Her brutality and her rage would wipe them all away. She could feel the devil within her awaken and rise just as it had many times before. Though this time she was not in battle. This time she had nowhere to expel the demon. It bubbled darkly inside of her, almost amused by her frustration and grief.

“Vale.”, her voice started low and calm. It was calculated. Cold.

“If you so as much tell me again that Lucien was not controlled by magic..” her volume increased a tick.
I will have a VERY hard time not harming you. The man KILLED HIMSELF IN FRONT OF ME. STOP TALKING!" Finally, she erupted in an emotional storm of fire and brimstone as her tone crescendoed into the fury the burst within her.

“It would not be the first time, Vale.” Quentin stated calmly. He watched the tiefling with worry dotting his beautiful green eyes.

Vale did not seem to care. He narrowed his eyes, “Do not tell me how my art works.”

Quentin started to interject, bringing up Tornius and Locklear and Vance’s mind control of them. The two men started to go at it verbally, pushing points back at one another.
Silently the tiefling battled herself. She closed her eyes and felt the world around her. The darkness that invaded her body and soul was nothing human. The Grey Devil reared her ugly head as a sadistic, voice whispered to the tiefling, ‘Kill him. End his life, my child. He deserves your hatred. He deserves your brutality. He knows nothing. Kill him. It will be sweet succulence. You will enjoy it. ’ The Devil’s sweet muses murmured into the tiefling’s mind. She wanted to. She wanted to so badly. ‘What is one mortal life? You are better than him my child. You are the offspring of perfect creatures. Show him your might.’

Her hand twitched and fell onto the hilt of her blade. She fought to control herself as the innerstorm waged. Vale and Quentin’s voices defended her. Vaguely she could hear Celestia try to be a voice of reason between the two men. In her other hand, she gripped her shield so tightly that she had formed a permanent indent of her fingers on the grip. The tiefling couldn’t take it anymore. The Fire burned so hotly. She needed to let it out.

STOP TALKING ABOUT HIM!” She screamed at the top of her voice. Her voice sounded inhuman as her Devil showed itself. It took all the self control she had to not break the peace bond on her scimitar pommel.

Vale crossed his arms, “No. Because what you’re saying is bloody madness.” Suddenly she had no more control. Her discipline was melted by the flames. Instead of her scimitar, the tiefling raised her shield and slammed it into the ground. The adamantine shield created four large cracks where it met the surface. If she stayed here, she would kill him. The tiefling turned and marched towards the office, her footfalls heavy and commanding. There was nowhere to go. Entering the office, she finally allowed the fire to burst forth. She started to hit. She thrashed. She did everything she could to get it to stop. The tiefling saw red.

As the furniture was abused and broken. As the storm raged, their voices trickled through the wall.

“ Maybe Lucien was not being controlled, But Tornius was. And as I said, it led to the Banite church being decimated.”

THRASH! CRACK!

“Don't push so hard, Vale...she'll come to terms with it when she's able... I didn't want to believe my friend was a vampire once either...But when I'd calmed down, I had no choice but to admit it. She will too.”
CRACK! BOOM! THACK!

“She of all people has to be rational. That's too many times I've seen her get upset and overly violent about things when she needs to keep a cool head.”

THRACK! CRUNCH! CRACKLE!

She let herself scream and sob as Lucien’s face seeped into her mind. His soft features staring down at her with a smile. The apologetic look on his face as he started to cast. His eyes set on hers as the destructive spell tore him from the inside out. All she could see was his beautiful face being torn apart in front of her. First his core, and then his armor. His lips whispering his final words silently to her as she watched him explode in front of her. The way she had been blinded by his blood. Her pain only fueled her rage more.

Her soft sobbing pierced the sounds as books were thrown about. The chairs were broken and slung. The wall was punched and torn to pieces. The mirrors in the room shattered and tore into small pieces. Nothing was at the tiefling’s mercy. Her fury and her anger couldn’t be stopped. Her brutality would not falter. Not until she was done. Finally, at the end, there was silence. The conversation in the other room had stopped. Either they listened to her expel her devil or they lowered their voices.

She leaned against the broken wall as blood trickled from beneath her hands. The woman no longer cared about the rest of them. All she could think about was her friend, her brother’s image. Quietly the door opened and closed. A hand rested gently on her shoulder.

“It’s alright, Sister.”
Quentin broke the silence. She held onto the bookshelf beside her like a child, her forehead leaning on it.
"I don't care what they say. He had to be controlled. He had to be. Why else would he do this to me, Quentin?" She sobbed softly to herself, her voice cracking with pain "He killed himself beside me. He covered me in his sodding blood. I was.. I was blinded. I couldn’t see... I.. I have to believe it wasn't his choice."
“Sometimes people make bad choices, Nehala. Or mistakes.”

"He wouldn't do that to me. He was my family."

Quentin quieted, “We will get to the bottom of it in time, I assure you. When we confront Vance.”

She lifted her head from the bookshelf and turned to him, "He couldn't do that to me. He loved me, Quentin. He was like a brother to me. Brothers don't.. don't sodding kill themselves like that. Not in front of people they care about. Never... " She helplessly kept repeating.

He watched her with sadness, “The man was in a bad spot in the end. Either through despair, or grief, or control he was not himself at the end. We will find out the truth in time. But you can’t take any blame for this.” His arms reached out to embrace her. The Paladin pulled her in close and brought his hand to rest on the back of her head, just beneath her skull’s base. Her face found the crook of his neck.

“I want him to die.” The Grey Devil showed herself. Her voice was coated in darkness as she spoke. It was spiteful and vengeful. The words of a Hoaran long dead. But it was a true statement. She wanted Vance to suffer. She wanted Ezra to suffer.
“Vance will die Nehala. There is no way this does not end without his death.” He promised her. It was like the sweet tune of an angel. With the statement alone, he brought holy rains of a celestial to nullify her hellfire. It felt good to confess her dark intentions to him. It soothed her.

"I can't accept that he did this on his own. I don't care what Vale says. Vance admitted it to my contact in a moment where he thought my contact was his friend... If he wasn't controlled, then he meant to make me suffer by killing himself. And I knew Lucien. He wouldn't do that to me." her voice faltered. He couldn’t have, would he? Had he been selling a lie like Alastair had? Would he have turned his back on her too if he were still alive? She couldn’t accept that.

“I understand sister. We will see Vance pay, for this and everything else he has done.” He reassured her again, further dousing the flames. The world seemed to quench as her body’s heat dissipated. She kept her head buried in his shoulder for a few silent minutes, letting her blood dissolve. How could all of this be the result of one man? So much pain and anger. So much chaos and dissent. This was Vance’s fault. He would pay. She would make sure he would. She would not kill him fast. No. She would make him suffer, slowly. She would make him feel her pain. Her heart grew just a bit darker as her mind formulated the facts, as she told herself what she wanted. Now she just needed a plan.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Wed Mar 07, 2018 9:07 pm

A Duel with Ellie
The guard gathered around the arena. Each of their faces looked determined. Spells raised in their hands, ready to cast. Swords and shields were withdrawn, ready to do battle. The squires and the Knights looked ready with all their wards. The tiefling smiled. She was proud of them.

And she knew they needed to be humbled.

To the left side of the arena, Ellie quietly warded herself. Her eyes fell on the other warrior as an idea circulated in her mind. She had always wanted to duel Ellie and test her metal with her. This could be a good opportunity.

“Hey, wanna team up?” The tiefling muttered as she readied her own wards. A bull strength here, a premonition there. The tiefling armed herself to the teeth. This was a serious battle, afterall. No use in slacking off. No point in not giving your all. As Ellie hesitated to reply, the tiefling lowered her head and prayed to the god of Battle. She hoped Tempus would look favorably on this free-for-all.

“Heh, Sure.” Her ears perked a bit with Ellie’s reply. The two stood next to each other, comrades in this war. There had been no rules of working together. In fact, she silently hoped they’d team up with each other and take the two biggest threats down. Them.

But she was disappointed. As soon as she finished counting, she sprinted off towards Amenial. Grease and other spells already littered the floor, but it didn’t stop her. She had prepared. She had the correct tools. Amenial had gone down easy enough. The tiefling targeted her first because she had been a monk. And monks could be dangerous if you allowed them any mobility. The elf was taken by surprise. She hadn’t expected Nehala to come after her. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Vasilia casting an improved invisibility, yet, she wasn’t wearing a sheath of acid. She was vulnerable as a mage.

Her mistake was allowing Nehala to get close. Her legs were knocked out from underneath her and she was quickly finished off after that. It was a dirty move, but there wasn’t any rules to this fight. They needed to learn to play dirty. Enemies won’t wait for you to ward or to cast spells.

She looks down the arena, Ellie was putting down two other members already. Noting her progress the tiefling moved to the next guard. She heard Saethe, Augustin, and Levanter fall. In the middle of the arena, she watched as Vale casted on himself and disappeared. A greater sanctuary. Smart. As she moved past Vasilia’s unconscious body, she spotted Saethe. What was he doing up? Oh well. The two raised their swords and struck one another. But she was too fast for him and she made quick work.

Vale had been using smart tactics. The battle field was littered with black tentacles and dark smoke. Kerri had to cast ultravision. A few others continued to struggle with each other. She closed in on her next target, Vale. Thankfully, she had these spells already. She knew his wards would be a problem however. Quickly, she reached for a mordenkainen scroll and most of his wards were stripped. She hasted herself and in the distance she heard Drederick scream, “I can’t see!” Yes, she was on him now. The mage’s feet were kicked out from underneath him and his hellsteel armor penetrated. She was done with him.

Another yell, Amenial, “No honor in this!” Well, maybe she should have been ready.

It was just Ellie and Nehala now. Her goat-like eyes slowly moved to observe Ellie. The other scimitar weapon master did the same. For a minute, the Arena was silent as they watched the two that had defeated them. Ellie raised her blade. Nehala mirrored the action. And like that, the two were off. Ellie used a wand of truest strike which only made the tiefling arrogantly smirk. Didn’t she know that was useless? You needed potions. Not wands.
Knowing she could take any blows, she attempts to knock Ellie off her feet. But she was ready for her attack. Good. Nehala grinned as Ellie’s blade slide across her right thigh, puncturing the armor. The tiefling had calculated the move and used her vulnerability to strike into Ellie’s abdomen. With her shield raised, she took a step back and started to wail smaller hits on Ellie’s weak points. Her sword arm, her knees.. The tiefling’s thigh burned but she ignored it.

Ellie slashed wildly towards her. Two swipes were a miss, but she managed to nick the tiefling on her side. ‘Good. Keep at it Ellie. Get angry.’ She silently spoke. Nehala had calculated Ellie’s anger to double as she got that first hit in. This was how she would lose. Ah, there! The tiefling snaked her blade out from behind her adamantine shield and sunk it into Ellie’s sword arm. She had drawn blood. Ellie cried out in pain and went into a frenzy. She desperately tried to claw at Nehala. The human weapon master slid her blade into Nehala’s abdomen, but she wasn’t strong enough to penetrate much further than the armor. Her blade’s ki faltered. The tiefling used this fake it to bring the butt of her hilt down on Ellie’s helm twice, knocking her down and off her feet. As the dust settled and Ellie’s body crumbled to the ground, the tiefling raised her face towards the sky and allowed herself to bask in the sun for a small minute. Victory was good. It felt sweet. And most importantly, her blood was satisfied.

Ellie softly groaned as Nehala reached forward and offered her hand. She had fought well, and she had lasted longer than anyone else. The tiefling said nothing, but she felt her message was clear to Ellie. How much better she could do and be. She just needed practice. Ellie tried sucking in her breathe as she was pulled to her feet. The fall had knocked the wind out of her.

“That went about how I thought it would.” Augustin chimed in. The tiefling shook her head, she had known that Ellie would lose. It wasn’t out of arrogance but more tactical knowledge. If only she could share her knowledge with these people. If only she could share her battle experience. She’d never have to worry about the people in Cordor again. She’d never have to worry for her family again.

“Well, that was fun.” She forced out, shoving the ideas of Cev being hurt down within her, “Let’s go again. This time, I will stay out of it.” She waved her hands in a circle, signaling the guards, her guards, to ward up once more. The tiefling took her place next to Ellie, who seemed to have caught her breath and rested at the side of the arena. Her eyes wandered from the next battle to the warrior next to her. Her time in the dark had taught her well, but her anger and her fear held her back. If she hadn't panicked, she'd could of had a chance. The tiefling rested her hand on her thigh as it continued to burn. It would be a good scar to keep.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Fri Mar 23, 2018 6:32 am

Breathe.

The letter was pinned to the message board. The tiefling’s gaze stared at it. How could so many words change a life so drastically? For the first time in a while, she felt bubbles from within and her body grow cold. She had become to attached. What would happen now? Her eyes raised to the heavens were the midday sun loomed over her, like a beacon of hope. Why did she care so much?
As her eyes fell to the ground, Lucien crossed her mind again. Perhaps it was because of his death that she wanted to stay. Maybe, she just wanted normalcy.

But it wasn’t meant for her. Nehala let out a sigh as she tacked the next notice to the board. It was time to push the baby birds out of the nest. It was time for her to spread her wings and fly to a new horizon. If they couldn’t survive now without her, then they never would. Finally, it was posted. Returning to the Barracks, that served as her place of rest and solitude, she sat at the large empty table and opened her journal.

Within her home, she sat and wrote.

It has been months since I’ve written here. I used to use this journal to vent. I used to use it to point out my anger when I could not direct it to those that I felt deserved it. To vent on the injustices of the world. But every time I sit down to write, I find myself at a loss.

There is plenty to talk about, sure. But what have I not covered already?

I don’t want to sit here and continue to write about the friends I keep losing. Sheng, Lucien, Theoros, Pierce, Safiyaa, Alara... Maybe Quillian if she stays in Jinghue. Of course, I can come visit Sheng and Quillian in Shou Lung.

The tiefling sat back against her chair as her hand fell to her abdomen. She looked around the silent barracks. The only sounds were the distant snoring of her family, her cubs. For a city she hated so much, she couldn’t place how she had come to love these barracks or the guard. It was time that they moved on without her. Her life was about to change in a big way. Whether her cubs liked it or not, she would soon be leaving. And she wouldn’t be back for a while. Not until she could safely bring her own child back with her. Or know that her child would be safe.

Nehala refused to be like Locklear. She refused to lose a child to Ezra or Vance. There was no way she could protect anyone in her state, and her failure against Biggush was only just a reminder that she needed to leave soon. She was getting weaker, her body was focusing elsewhere and she wasn’t 100%. The mainland was the only place she’d be safe from Ezra or Vance. On the table beside her journal were two scimitars. On the left was her scimitar. Nightfall.
It’s adamantine metal gleamed and glamoured, newly polished in the torchlight of the Guard barracks. Beside it was another wrapped scimitar. It was newly made, yet nearly identical. A twin to her current blade. On top, a note labeled ‘Drederick’ rested. The tiefling wished she could take him with her to Silverymoon. There wasn’t anyway she could protect him from X’avin here. If only he could come and learn from her there. But.. this place was his home. She couldn’t take him away without him wanting to go. It was the same with Ceviran.

The tiefling's eyes strayed back to her journal. She couldn't bring herself to write more. There was just too much going on in her mind to sit here and thing straight. Her hand pressed against her abdomen as a soft blush spread across her cheeks. She had someone else to think about now. Someone’s safety other than her own. The Morninglord had blessed her, and she would not squander it.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Fri Mar 23, 2018 7:00 am

[A letter from the mainland, arrived via boat]

Drederick,
I’m sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye. I know I promised to protect you. But I am to have a child of my own now. And I refuse to become a victim like Locklear did. I won’t have my child sacrificed to Cyric.
I wanted to bring you with me, but I know that I couldn’t stifle your progress like that. You have such a good heart and I hope you will be there when I am able to return. I promise I will continue to write to you, as long as you write to me. I fully intend to still be apart of your life as I promised I would be. You’re my son, after all. Heh.
I left my scimitar for you to wield, I know that you’ll use it well. I know you’ll make the right decisions. I left my necklace too. Please keep these things safe. I’ll keep you updated on when I get to Silverymoon (Ceviran's family is in Silverymoon).
Love,
Your mom.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

l33tfragiletings
Posts: 4
Joined: Sun Mar 11, 2018 1:29 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by l33tfragiletings » Fri Mar 23, 2018 8:17 am

(A long letter from Arelith!)

Nehala,
You don’t have to apologize for leaving so abruptly and I am truly excited that you’re having a child of your own, I understand why you chose to leave this island. Thank you for sending me this letter Nehala I really needed this, things haven’t been so good for me in the isles of Arelith. I can’t sleep… Things are bad and sometimes it feels like they’re only going to get worse. X’avin has been pushing this rumor that I am a Cyricist and it’s been catching the attention of crowds sometimes. Saethe said I looked like Vance in the middle of the town and ever since some people just give me dirty stares. I’ll be honest this wasn’t how I imagined it when I first came to these isles. I dreamed of adventures, aiding the needy, respect and maybe finding some self-worth. In the end I guess I ended up getting all of that but at the cost of some friendships and living in constant fear that someone will kill me because of the rumors. I’m sorry I poured so much into this letter I know it’s long but I needed to vent someway. Thank you for the gifts they mean a lot and thank you for having faith in me, I'll try to make you proud I promise. Also I hope you're enjoying your time in Silverymoon!
Love,
Drederick

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Wed Jun 20, 2018 4:12 pm

[changing]
Last edited by The Salt Elemental on Thu Jun 21, 2018 2:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Wed Jun 20, 2018 4:17 pm

[On hold, changing]
Last edited by The Salt Elemental on Thu Jun 21, 2018 2:43 am, edited 7 times in total.
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

User avatar
The Salt Elemental
Posts: 153
Joined: Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:44 am

Re: Gift of Brutality

Post by The Salt Elemental » Thu Jun 21, 2018 1:09 am

((
DM GrumpyCat wrote:
Wed Jun 20, 2018 4:57 pm
Psst!

Gentle reminder that the Forums, especialy the IC Stories, should not be used as a replacement for In Game Roleplay. If two characters want to RP between each other, they should do so In Game, by some method or other, and not on the forums. Thank you.
(( I see. I was not aware considering I have seen plenty of other ic journals hold letters in them as well as seen multiple people post on one journal. This wasn’t meant as an interaction but more something that would be stored in her journal. If it is not something you think appropriate, I will take it down.

Respectfully, Would you mind deleting your original post on here so that the flow of the story and events do not become interrupted by the ooc reminder?))
"We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes
and if there's a reason
I'm still alive
when so many have died,
then I'm willing' to wait for it."

Post Reply