« The Moon's Howl: Leta-Basha »

[emptyanima]

(Click image for files.)

Name: Leta-Basha
Meaning: Secret-stranger.
Age: 28 Yrs.
Race: Giamarga (Half-elf, half-Vistani)
Nomad/Forest-dweller
Origin: Sithicus, Ravenloft

“There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.”  ~
George Carlin

Narnian Lullaby (Sithican Dirge - the song Leta-Basha plays on her pipes.)

Narnian Lullaby (Full Moon Theme - Lunatio)

[emptyanima]

[The journal is written in a blend of Sithican and Balok, without pattern, as though the writer is thinking in two languages at once.]

Six years. Six years, I was reminded this day, I was alone. I may have encountered people, held conversations, however brief, but when the moon rose, I would be alone in my camp. I keep to what I know.

Lesson one, seize all opportunities. Lesson two, know when to retreat. Lesson three, hone your skills. Do these things, and survival is made much easier.

I did not think I would end up showing others of my ways, but two were drawn to me by my campfire, and another followed on a hunt. They wish to live by knowing the land, and I am glad to show them. It is good to not be alone anymore.

I've begun to make tonics, and I hope these will be of help to us as we continue to work together. Other occupations, I leave to them. Lunzia is like nothing I have seen, with his horns and tail, but he is a curious and good-natured sort. Alea is strong and hardy, and talks much of her old life - there is so much beyond the mists, and for all I have learnt of this place through my travel, there are places I will never track. Dagoda looks like the caliban of this place, but he is different, somehow. I continue to watch them all closely.

I only hope that when the full moon rises, they will stay by me. They would be the first.

[emptyanima]

[The journal is written in a blend of Sithican and Balok, without pattern, as though the writer is thinking in two languages at once.]

Much has come to pass in the last days, and much of it I do not remember. The full moon wipes my head clean when she vanishes. I woke in the herbalist's hut, bewildered. Thankfully, as I asked, the others observed me in that time. It transpires that I am difficult, violent, bloody-minded and bestial, howling at the moon like the neuri do. It transpires that I killed a man, one assisting thieves who stole my tent from me. Our tent. I remember making it with my mother, many years ago, weaving it with what nature provided. It has been to me a sturdy shelter, accompanied by fond memories. Their leader gave it back to me this day, but when I saw his face, it was like a memory of a dream, hazy and of little substance.

Lunzia seems to have been the one who worked hardest to protect me from myself, and others. It must have been a tiring three nights. I still wonder how it might be connected, if at all, to my mother's fate... perhaps my cries and whooping attracted a great beast. It seems, however it came to pass, her passing was my fault. It is something that gnaws at my innards, this thought. But I have been a trouble enough of late, for those I wish to protect. I have grown close to them, defensive of them.

Lunzia, Dagoda, Jordana, Alae, Ama'tria... not that these are the only ones who have joined us. Lanelle has been interesting company in the times we have met. During the full moon, he said I called him a 'silly boy', having found him bleeding in the morning sun. Lowe, who loves stories, as did a dwarf who stopped by, telling stories of his uncle and a huge wild cat called Momma. Today, Justin, who has been helping the others in their work while I brewed. Nelia, a little person I saw wrestling with sleep, has also travelled with us for a time. She loves the earth, and heals through it. I know my mother could do this, and it is a skill I too wish to learn. But the earth must teach me. My mother must teach me from the earth she has become. Six years since she has rejoined the earth. She is at peace. I hope I can find my own.
 

[emptyanima]

[The journal is written in a blend of Sithican and Balok, without pattern, as though the writer is thinking in two languages at once.]

We were robbed, again. It is discomforting to see so many who would do hurt to those who keep to themselves. The garda would not help us. Why would they? We are a band of outcasts. They were more concerned with Dagoda's appearance than the crime he reported. We took justice into our own hands, but the thief used some sort of vraja to get away, as we were about to fell him. We lost one of the oxen that way.

Still, we are growing stronger together. I had to clean a wound that Dagoda sustained in a fight, even though it hurt him to treat it. He bravely soldiered on, and now he will get better. We share stories around the fire, of hubris and trickery. There are many lessons, many unwritten laws.

Alae's desire for adventure almost got us killed, but thanks to the efforts of an elven wizard, Bel, we were saved from death, death that I felt stand over me, about to reap me and return me to the soil. Once we are altogether, perhaps more adventure is in order. There have been many days of hard work and honing skills. It will be good to see how they pay off in a fight.

I worry for all of them, but especially Lunzia. He seems to be hiding something, keeping it hidden for our sake. Perhaps he does as I do, conceal some deep-seated pain or grief. It would not surprise me. He lost a dear friend in being brought here.

I hope each of them understand how truly proud I am of them. Our little sapling becomes a strong tree. Soon, we will be unconquerable. Thieves may take our possessions, but we must keep our spirit.
 

[emptyanima]

[The journal is written in a blend of Sithican and Balok, without pattern, as though the writer is thinking in two languages at once.]

There is another gap in my memory where the full moon should be. I should speak with Soare. It is a good name for him, for he is warm and always casting light on mysteries, like the sun. I am not entirely sure how to describe how I feel about him. Fellowship and love. These are my feelings for the group in its entirety, but individuals have their own subtleties. He calls me Luna now, and I think on how the moon cannot glow without the sun. I suppose, in a way, this rings true in reality. He was the first to find me in my camp, and from there the group grew. He shed light on a withered sapling, and the rains came. Together we grow strong.

Nothing proves this more than our last venture. The imorjiti of the outpost, south of the Luna, fell quickly and cleanly, everyone keeping to their assigned place. Alae as always was champing at the bit like a Nova Vassan stallion, but she was protected, and I could ease a little. This was not so in the neuri cave. Still, we held together, and no one fell. If any were to expire under my watch, I am not sure if I could forgive myself. I hope Ama'tria is feeling better now.

Bryn told me a little of what transpired when the moon was last full. Howling and wrestling beasts in the dirt. He kept me from fleeing through the dark, he tells me, drove me away in my simpler mind with flaming torches. If my other self ever harms one for whom I care, my heart will sing a somber song. I wonder if this is what befell my mother. And when I wonder this, I pray that it is not the case.

Now that my head is clear again, I have made progress with my tonic brewing. I can replicate the hardening of the skin that Sten and Nelia can carry out, making it hard as tree-bark. Another sharpens the eyes, which I hope will arm us well against anyone further who might think to steal from us. A tanner supplies us, so that Dagoda might begin to make armour.

But I distract myself with my words. I consider again the tale the Bryn told me. But I must be more certain of my own feelings. I will not be made miserable by spending more time with him. The opposite, in fact.

Luna. Soare. Part of me longs for eclipse.
Time. We have time. If I do not believe this, I will despair. Only fools rush in.

[emptyanima]

[The journal is written in a blend of Sithican and Balok, without pattern, as though the writer is thinking in two languages at once.]

Much has transpired - it always has before I am afforded a chance to write. I have seen Ama'tria, Dagoda and Nelia again, safe and happy, although Dagoda did seem perturbed by something, poor thing. Soare and I reminded him that we shall always be here to hear his words should he have anything weighing on his heart. Perhaps Bryn should speak with him. He has a way of unfolding the secrets of the innermost heart, making them known to yourself, himself, and any who should be listening. I have him to thank for clarity of feeling.

It wrenched at me, to hear of Soare's past, the things he was, and would have been, made to do. But he has risen above all this, shows kindness where the world shows him none, and warmth where he was taught to be callous. I could not keep myself from him any longer. My heart plays the higher strains, the joyful, passionate song, like the quanisho danced by elven maidens. I often wonder if it was a dance like this that brought my father to my mother. But I know the Vistani have dances of their own. For the fact that their blood, intertwined with my mother's, twists through my veins, I know precious little of them. But thanks to Soare's enquiring mind, I know them to be the reason for my full moon self. Lunatio, they call it, moon madness.

The full moon came and went again recently, during which Soare took me to the camp, that he might have words with them regarding my lunar affliction. There were many others gathered there, he tells me, waiting for a vardo to take them down a new path that would avoid the Svalich road. He took me aboard in hopes that he could speak to the Vistana captain later, but there was no time, not for a long time, or opportunity. For the vardo was shrouded in mist, and once escaped, we were in Barovia no more. Men cut down women and children alike, and when we came to a stop, it was because we were cornered by a woman and her entourage, that one woman we met called Strangle-hold. When we resisted her arrest, we fought back. Soare tells me I killed one of her men with an arrow to the eye, and part of me wishes I could recall it for myself. But after our victory over them, yet more came, and we were forced to flee, hunted down and subdued one by one, like dogs. But Soare and I escaped, tying a rope to one of the trees and abseiling down the cliff-face to avoid them. It was up to us to free them, we believed.

We traversed the mountains using my potions of vraja-veil, he tells me, for I was calmer by this second night of the moon, able to heed his instructions, though I was still simpler of mind and tongue. We passed through a valley of death, in night's shadow, men and women with arms spread on wooden crosses. I am glad that I cannot remember, but I wish I could share the burden that must weigh heavy on Soare's heart. We found a woman, a prostitute, who still lived by some great willpower, and we freed her from the cross. She told us that a friend of hers, a bard, was in the prison, in one of the torture chambers. We evaded the guards at the gate by throwing a torch over the cliffside, which they rushed to as we bolted past. We clambered down the well in the courtyard, and found ourselves in the dungeons below. I am stronger during the full moon, Soare tells me, and I broke off the looser bars over the cell. Sadly, this alerted the guard and we were forced to kill him. And now, the moment the way was made open for them, the others emerged. They rushed away without a word of gratitude, and I know this upset Soare. It had been no easy task, getting there. We did, however, find the bard, and told her the way to find her friend. I hope that they found each other.

When we came up the rope and out of the well again, we found the guards all dead. We ran back towards the bridge... finding it burnt. Against the rain and wind we struggled, climbing using rope and hooks to make our way back to the others. They showed little by way of concern, which would have angered me if I could recall it, remember any of their faces. But I do not.

Our escape from that place had us traverse thick woodland, and lift a curse upon Shadowborne Manor - a blade has been possessed of some terrible being, Soare tells me, and we had to seek guidance from the kith'pah of the Lady Shadowborne. Following her instructions, the blade was destroyed, but not without a few of our number being seized by lust for the thing, causing injury and death to several. But they were restored, thankfully, their kith'pah returned to their bodies. I have only been sucked out of my body once, and returning to life was like being a hand shoved into a glove too quickly, with fingers not in their proper place, crushed against the leather, and it takes some time to return your kith'pah to its proper place. I do not envy them the feeling. By the time we left, however, night had come again, and the full moon seized me tighter still, and I ran rabid, incapable of speech. It was now, as we could return to Barovia, that Soare entreated the Vistana captain, asking him for help. The captain has given him tonics which should ease the symptoms, ten in total, nine now. They will not last forever... must be kept for when the moon is most strong in her hold on me. He is tireless in his help and affections, and I am most grateful to him, mi Soare.

Since then, we have vanquished huge spiders in tunnels snaking below the sewers, and subdued the long-dead dwellers of the outpost once more. But I know that in these lands, nothing is permanent, and it all slinks back from death to fight again. Darkness and light are both needed for balance. There can be no day without night. No moon without the sun.

My work on my tonics improves daily, they grow stronger and more varied. Soare hopes that if I can master them, I will be able to reproduce the drink the Vistana gave us. But the Vistani are mysterious and strange, and keep much hidden. I doubt that they would offer the recipe without high price, and even if they did, I would not feel comfortable, owing them a debt. In exchange for the tonics, Soare promised to forget that we were in peril by their mistake, so their deal is settled. I worry that he pins his hopes on dreams and illusions. No medicine can work forever. The body begins to resist. And so would the moon, who would grow stronger and stronger to take me back, so that when she did seize me...

[The entry stops abruptly.]

[emptyanima]

[The journal is written in a blend of Sithican and Balok, without pattern, as though the writer is thinking in two languages at once.]

With Nyver at the helm, we explored somewhere new, a ruined monastery in the woodland. The ghosts and spectres sucked at our very spirits. My kith'pah cries. And it has left its marks on me elsewhere. Mist swirled about come nightfall yesterday, and I was forced to venture through the underground tunnels to reach safety in the sanctuary, where the others were gathered. Ama'tria has been filled with sadness, I see it in her eyes, and I worry. I worry that the same doubt I see in her face, she can see in mine.

We are the Varin'ursa, it has been decided. A tribe, a family, whichever name one wishes to place to it. We are close. But Soare is my home. The warmth that emanates from him... he is the hearth to which I come back every evening, and lay my head beside. But still these doubts linger in my quivering, ghost-broken spirit, that I hope time will eventually heal.

It has all happened so quickly, this passage from loneliness to love. I wonder often if I have been foolish. I wonder if I am simply a study for him, a curiosity that he can examine, as he did others. He knows the range of my collarbone and the valleys of the backs of my knees, the nape of my neck and the form of my smile. He knows every part of me, and it is both wonderful and frightening. Perhaps I am right to be a little afraid. Many are false with their kindness and words. But the sincerity of his bright gaze-

Oh, no.... she's coming now, so soon! I see her full and terrible face as she tears aside the veil of cloud! I don't want to face you alone again... I don't want to for

[The tail of the R trails the whole page, the ink pooling at the bottom.]

[emptyanima]

[The journal is written in a blend of Sithican and Balok, without pattern, as though the writer is thinking in two languages at once.]

I wanted to remember, and now I want to forget. I wanted to know the secrets the full moon kept from me, in her cold cruelty. It seems that not knowing was my defence.

When the potion brought me back to my senses for a time, I immediately craved ignorance again, but it was too late. I saw the marks I had left on Lunzia, mi Soare, bite marks in his cheek, scratches elsewhere. The blood. I knew then what I had hoped against hope to be a lie.
I had been so lost to the moon, I had forgotten those I love. This... this was what happened to my mother, I know this now. I was alone for six years as a punishment for her murder.

But still he stays by me, though the moon makes me monstrous.  My doubts have been unfounded. He stands on the edge between heroism and stupidity, where love is. And though I am anxious that I may hurt him again, or another, that my closeness will be his ruin... I stand there with him, covered in blood and wrestling the lunar beast, but the sun does not veil his light.

Next time the moon rises in her fulness, I will ask for rope, that I might be shackled and bound. To protect myself and those I hold dear. My heart is heavy with guilt, and I am tired. But I have to keep going, for myself, for the Varin'ursa, for Soare...

Forgive me, mother, for not having the strength to fight the moon.

[emptyanima]

[The journal is written in a blend of Sithican and Balok, without pattern, as though the writer is thinking in two languages at once.]

My life moves with the lunar cycle. When the moon is wane and pale, I am happy. The Varin'ursa and I venture and share good company. We took a trip to the mage tower so that Ama might begin to learn alchemy, at one time. We still work together to help each other.

There have been some concerns with the forest. Strange fungus is swarming it, and creatures made of foliage. We do not know its source as yet, but the Varin'ursa have been trying to keep Degannwy updated.

All that goes away when the moon is full. So does everything. But poor Lunz seems to grow more and more tired. My moon self seems to be cunning and cruel. I wish I could send her away. I don't want to see mi Soare in pain anymore.

Oh, but here the moon comes again. I hope he is strong enough to bear this.

[emptyanima]

[The journal is written in a blend of Sithican and Balok, without pattern, as though the writer is thinking in two languages at once.]

She did not come when expected, leaving us in helpless anticipation. We were grateful for the time we could spend together, even though the moon's glare on me made sleep impossible. As we were close, I fell out of myself, and I remember nothing of the time before the moon passed. She had come then.

Lunz has learned much from his study of my moon self, whom he calls Luna. She has been difficult, a burden to him, beastly and cruel and cunning. But by depriving her of the blood she lusts after, she has seen beyond the fog into my own mind, flashes of my own memories, and she desires to share my life as well as my body. She swears up and down to be part of me, not an intruder. Lunz calls her my dark aspect, a collection of all my most extreme emotions bundled into another part of me.

Where we once regarded her with hatred and scorn, there is only pity.

She asks much of him, and is a strain even now, though less violent. She wishes him to treat her as he treats me, in all things. If such is what is needed...

Luna has been presented suddenly with all aspects of womanhood, having been permitted some experience beyond her wilder self. She's been confronted with wants and desires that are new and strange, but she lacks the restraint to manage them. Lunz has been tireless to help me, and I am sure he shall help her also.

But who will help him? I do what I can, when I am present. Perhaps, one day, Luna will know all these things, and we can rest easily.

These are all dreams, at present, but one thing is certain. Our love shall keep us strong.

[emptyanima]

[The journal is written in a blend of Sithican and Balok, without pattern, as though the writer is thinking in two languages at once.]

I have been burdensome. It is high time to change this.

I swore an oath at the ceremony of renewal, that I would break away fully from the winter of my life, and fully embrace spring.

I must cling to what is good, love nature, and not despise the moon as I have done.

I do not know what sin my father's people committed to be so cursed by the fulness of the moon.

This... this I must learn.

Can there be atonement?

[emptyanima]

[The journal is written in a blend of Sithican and Balok, without pattern, as though the writer is thinking in two languages at once.]

A pitic tried to rob me, not long ago, while I fought imortiji in the ruined outpost. Seeing I had nothing of great monetary value, being one who cares little for these things, she instead gave me coin no doubt stolen from another. Still, I can use this for potion bottles, to brew tonics to keep myself and my Sun safe.

With Lunz at my side, it seems we have been able to reach some sort of balance. The full moon has not worn so hard on me these last few months, though I am still unable to sleep while she watches, with a wide, milky, unblinking eye. Patience has allowed the two of us to manage.

We saw Dagoda again, which lifted a burden from my heart. I can only hope the others have managed. The guilt has not left me, for I have been both burdensome and inward-looking. I shall learn what became of them. I shall look further into the curse of my father's people. I shall know peace.

Thank you, my Sun, for staying by me all this time.

[emptyanima]

((Bump for safeguard.))