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The afternoon sun was hot, as it usually is in Calimport. The desert air was dry, and you could feel the sandy film in your mouth just from breathing in the dusty wind. People filled the streets, wrapped in protective clothing designed to keep the harsh sun off their skin. Some colorful, indicating wealth and others were drab, and worn. Heat, body odor, the stink of camels and the burning sun made this a rather inhospitable place, and Selena was not used to it. Her home was in Waterdeep, much cooler and friendly a place in her opinion. Her and her mother, Kasa, had traveled here on a trading trip with her father Aaron. “It will be fun” he had said, but the tripped had turned sour quickly. The Pashas of Calimport were devils, and Aaron had made a bad investment with one of the Pashas money. He had been conned, and when the ancient relics of platinum turned out to be lead filled fakes, the 500,000 in gold the Pasha had lent him was long gone.
Kasa pushed her way through the street where she would meet the Pasha and negotiate her husband’s life. A deal had been sent to her the night previous, and she cried ever since she opened the letter sealed with the Pasha’s crest. Selena did not now why, and her mother told her nothing. This morning she could see that her mother was sad, but determined. Her tears were all cried out.
Selena was just a girl, 12 years old, and used to the luxuries that a successful trader and merchant father could shower her with. Her mother had servants to take care of the house hold responsibilities, and Selena had tutors in language, art, history and anything her heart desired. Life had been good, but that hot dusty morning would change everything.
The memory was burned into her mind. The fat sweaty man dressed in silken robes of purple and white. A wide long sash of emerald green was wrapped around his considerable midsection. His face was as round as he was, and his pointed goatee and long curled mustache framed greasy thick lips of a man that had just eaten one of the street vendor’s meat on a stick. Selena knew how slick the meat was, and how it was heavily spiced to hide what she thought to be the hint of sourness meat gets when it begins to turn. Her father was bound next to the fat Pasha, and held by two of his thickly muscled guards, dress in breaches that were full in the legs and a lengthy vest with no under shirt so to show off the might of his men.
Her mother sobbed and then swallowed her anguish when she saw Aaron. He had not been treated well, his rich clothing hung in tatters, and deep red scars from a lashing marred his chest and midsection. She could only assume the back of him was no better.
“We have deal, Yes?” Said the Pasha with a deep gurgled voice, obvious that his girth made it hard for him to breath, “Your man is no dead, in exchange for girl, Yes?”.
The words did not make sense to Selena, but her mother nodded silently. Could they mean her?
There was a moment of hesitation, and the Pasha drew a slender curved dagger from the folds of his sash and placed it against the throat of Aaron. With defeated determination, she walked forward with Selena.
“No! Mother you can’t mean this!” The young 12 year old girl tried to hold her ground, and pull against her mothers grip. The 2 Men brought her beaten husband forward and in a breaths time, they dropped him to the ground, and took the screaming girl.
“NO!!! MOMMA!!! PLEASE!!! NO!!!” Her screams echoed in her own ears, but her mother only wept and said “Don’t worry my love, it will not be long. Your father will raise the money to pay the Pasha back and you will be free soon. Please don’t cry.” The fat Pasha smiled a gap toothed grin at Selena.
“NOOOOOOO! Momma! NOOOOO!”
Selena sat up with a start, and ran her hands through her dark long hair. “Damn dreams!” The Pasha had left her chambers after his night of debauchery. 6 years past since that horrible day, but it haunted her still, and fueled her hate for the man that was now her master. She had been groomed to become part of his harem, so life as a slave girl was not so bad for the first 3 years. She was put through a rigorous exercise program to keep her body toned and lithe. Dancing lessons, flexibility training and classes in elegance and obedience made up her days. She did well in all but the last. Her disgust at the Pasha, whom she learn was named Siam, over powered her subservience lessons. She was a pale diamond amongst his dark brown skinned ladies which number 8. Perhaps he liked her fire, and her defiance, like a horse trainer likes a wild stallion that needs broken. It set her apart from his 8 obedient harem girls. Her hair was combed daily, and her skin was washed in lavish oils and flower pedals. While her life had changed 3 years ago when she was sold to Pasha Siam it changed again the night of her 15th birthday.
“He will come for you tonight.” Said Najia, the one Harem girl that Selena had bonded with. “He always does when we turn 15”. That night he did, and that night, her disgust became pure hate. The stinking sour smell of his body, the hot sweaty body on hers, and his backhand across her cheek to silence her protests, were all fuel for her fire.
3 years her exercises and pampered treatment continued, and for 3 years she suffered his unwanted touch. She did his will and pleased him as best as she could. The more she could wear him out, the faster he would fall asleep. “Maybe he would have a heart attack if she made him exert himself enough” she thought during each encounter and it made her work all the harder to make him push himself. To her disappointment, each morning he would leave her chamber alive and well, and extremely satisfied. And each morning after he left she would bathe thoroughly, and try to wash away the memory and the feeling of filth that was deeper than just the skin.
It was not every night, as he did have 8 others to chose from as well as her. She had made some “Friends” with a couple of Pasha Siam’s guards, choosing to share her sexual skills with them and in the after glow of their exertions they would talk about the world and the things the Pasha had them do.
One such evening, a Guard named Yazi, one that Selena could honestly say she liked enough not to wish him dead, told her a secret. Somehow the conversation turned to his family and she spoke aloud her anger and hatred of her parents for never returning to save her. Yazi’s face was one of a man torn with his feelings and his duty. With a little coaxing he spoke his mind to her.
“No No, my little flower, do not hate them” He had named her that due to the soft floral scent that always clung to her body from the oils she bathed in, “They did No abandon you…”
“What do you mean Yazi? Do not toy with my feelings!” Her frown told him that she did not like what he was saying, and he nearly stop, but the sighed and continued.
“No, you need to know truth. They never returned to Waterdeep.” He looked directly into her deep blue eyes, “Pasha paid the Black Riders to hit their caravan, and the Black Riders leave no survivors.”
She gasp, as if his words had stolen the breath from her breast. For 6 years she had hated them for abandoning her, but now she found her hatred had been misplaced. Instead of letting go, she took that fuel and added it to the fire of rage she had for Pasha Siam. She helped her guard lover to dress, and slipped his thin boot dagger into the folds of her own robe.
She took no more lovers to her chamber, and waited till the Pasha chose her. While she waited she hid the dagger at the head of the bed and kept up with her exercises and stretching. It was not much more than a week before he came to her. He had been the victor in a rather ruthless trade arrangement and had secured himself a large amount of wealth in the Sea Trade with Chult. He had come to celebrate, and in doing so, he wanted his pale diamond.
She waited, swallowing down her disgust and gave him what he so desired. She could not let him know that anything was different. She lay back on the bed, while his girth enfolded around her. She blocked out the odor of old wine on his breath and focused, waiting till he arched and rolled his head back in ecstasy. The moment would only last a few seconds, when his senses would be overwhelmed and his throat totally vulnerable. The daggers hilt was cool in her hand, and when he let out a groan to indicate his peak, he did as he always did, and there and then, her target present itself to her. There was not any hesitation, the thin curved dagger, much like the one the Pasha had put to her father’s throat, punched deep and through the arteries on both sides of his neck. The surprise on his face was a look worth the years of his foul touch. With a sneer and strength bore of pure hatred, she yanked the dagger through, tearing out the front of his throat, and splashing herself with gore. With a heave, the fat round man rolled off the bed on to the floor. The guards thought nothing of the noises, as the nights spent with Selena were always vigorous and loud. She arose, went calmly to her bathing chamber and washed the blood and bits of skin away, as she listen to the Pasha gurgle and try to call for help. There would be no alarm, as the voice box had been sliced cleanly by the daggers exit.
She stood before the dying Pasha, naked, and beautiful, her hair tied back in a long braid. His eyes looked up at her, pleading for help, even as the gushing wound slowed its flow. She stood there, watching with satisfaction as Pasha Siam finally died. There was no remorse, no regret and no fear of retribution. He was dead, and she would never again feel his clammy hands on her body. She would never again smell his stink or feel the sting of his backhand when she spoke out of turn. Even if the guard came in the morning to find her and the dead Pasha, then cut her down as a murderess, she would still be free.
But… It was not enough. She did not want to just be free, she wanted to be feared, she wanted the Pasha’s power, his wealth, his dominance over all who dealt with him. She learned that she could kill without regret, and this was not a skill to be squandered. Selena crouched down, and looked the Pasha in his unseeing dead eyes.
“I will be better than you! I will be what you always wanted to, I will be a goddess of death and I will be feared in these streets.”
The dead man did not respond, and with a laugh, she stood and dressed in the silken deep blue breeches and a loose fitting top that she used when she exercised for they were comfortable and nonbinding. As she walked out to the balcony, the night air had become thick with fog. Selena took this as a blessing, for the fog would hide her. With that thought in mind she slipped over the side and began her climb to the street below.
The humid air, unusual for the Calim desert, made the hand holds slick on the palace walls. The alarm bells sounded as she climbed much to her dismay. A guard must have checked on them to make sure the Pasha had not expired from his exertions. Whistles sounded through the palace, and oil lamps began to light each window. In a panic, Selena climbed faster, and in her carelessness her foot slipped off a moist smooth stone. The sudden movement and violent lurch tore her grip free as well. The cool air rushed past her, as she fell into the fog filled air, like flying through a cloud. The ground was 50 feet below, and she knew the impact would be the end. Death was inevitable, and in away she welcomed it, but yet there was disappointment too, disappointment that she would not live up to her pledge to the dead Pasha. She closed her eyes, and spread out her arms like some sort of bird. The wind was refreshing rushing past her face, as she waited for the predictable sudden stop that was to come.
As with all of her life, it had been full of changes. This night was just another in a series of unexpected events. As she fell to what she thought was her assured death, the Mists had other plans for the murderess. There must have been a period of unconsciousness, for the next thing she knew, she was on her back, laying in the grass. The sounds of lapping water and music met her ears as well as the threatening rumble of thunder in the distance. The air was cool, and humid, a refreshing change from the hot arid desert. For long moments, Selena could only lay there, stunned, wondering if she was in some sort of dream or perhaps the gods took pity on her and had allowed her to pass on to the heavens instead of the hells her actions had damned her too. As rain splashed cold drops upon her face she knew for sure she was not dead, or asleep, so she arose and looked around. This was not Calimsham, or even Waterdeep. Somehow, she had been taken to somewhere she had never been before, some magic in the fog had taken her from death. Perhaps even death itself had heard her pledge to the Pasha, and was giving her the chance to make good on it. Whichever, she took her first steps in this new land, and cautiously approached the caravan in the distance, hoping for some answers.