Ravenloft: Prisoners of the Mist

Within the swirling Mist (IC) => Biographies => Topic started by: Symphony of Sympathy on May 28, 2019, 11:36:36 AM

Title: The Symphony of Sympathy.
Post by: Symphony of Sympathy on May 28, 2019, 11:36:36 AM
The diary of ZeraphinŠ.

The closure of the opening.

Seventeen days.

The attack went on for a hour. Three bodies emerged from the chaotic nature of the dance. The bashing of doors still haunt my ears.
I've been travelling ever since. I've found myself in unfamiliar territory, it's not anywhere I've read or heard about. I was trying to find the nearest Free City. Instead I've found somewhere called 'The Grey City', or Vallaki. It seems dangerous here, even without Them following me. I need to be careful.

Speak of Sorrow.

Nineteen days.

She said 'The Pikes'. Is it the Pike lands I wonder? She also said that these lands only have one moon. I hadn't noticed, but I need to be careful around her. We went to fight some beetles creatures. She seemed to fight with a club and a shield. She doesn't seem to be with them, but then again, the best ones never do. I didn't speak or say my name out of caution, and my own safety. I don't want to give myself away too early, if she is Them.
I've decided to be a ally to her, at least for now. Just to find out if she is seeking redemption, or worse.
In the time being, I've been practising with my sword. I've managed to create a way to secure it to my back for easy access, and to secure my other weaponry on my belt. It seems that time spent fixing leathers was not that much of a waste after all.
For now, I write this inside the nearby inn, which is, for some reason, located outside of the city walls. Perhaps its for merchants and wanderers only. They have a local drink called 'Tsuika', and it tastes.. horrible. Yet I have been drinking it like it's water. I needed it.
It's named 'The Lady's Rest'. Not sure if I am a Lady, but I sure do need the rest.

Title: Re: The Symphony of Sympathy.
Post by: Symphony of Sympathy on June 02, 2019, 10:24:23 AM
Second Light.

Nothing here is close to home. Everything is.. off. The constant depression in the land, the fear that lingers among all the people, the downpour that never ceases. It's like the land is dying, crying. Something is wrong.

I ran into her again outside of the warehouses. She offered me to join her on a job, a simple cargo delivery. I agreed, and we left for the mountains. We talked a few, she asked about the ink that covered my skin. I stopped, showing her my forearm. She seemed fascinated. We continued, and she said she came from the Pike. She is from my home, yet I don't think she followed. She can't have. We encountered a dangerous set of wild cats, who after a fight managed to knock me to the ground. If she was truly with Them, she had me. She could of done it. But instead, she brought me to my feet, and allowed me to continue. Is it a mask? A ploy to earn my trust? Or is she a genuine ally?

I suppose time will tell.
Title: Re: The Symphony of Sympathy.
Post by: Symphony of Sympathy on June 06, 2019, 08:07:59 PM

ďI donít need trust.Ē
A fools word. Trust. One that can either mean everything, or nothing at all.
With no trust, people can break you.
With all the trust, people will break you.
But itís needed nevertheless. I donít know what has happened to the land, here. Nothing is as it was. The moonís are different. Now singular. People speak different words, no one knows of my Goddess. No one knows of my land. Did I really walk that far, or did something else happen? I am getting restless, and inept. I need to travel, to practice. I need to find out where I am, and find the next Free City.
I need Release. To escape Them.

Red Winter.

Twenty-seven days.
The flowers are blooming. Itís a rare sight, to see them become full in such a short time. Itís a pretty sight, and one that I would not want to miss. One of the true beauties you can cherish. One I wish I can forever.
The land calls for me. It cries. Itís dying. Something is wrong.


My nightmares return.
I can't breathe from the deepest of my lungs.
I remember being drowned in water.
I confess, I have sins but I try to fight the best I can.

Iíve braved what I can. I am not the same person anymore. I have the same skin, the same face, the broken soul. Do I confess? Who do I confess to? What do I do?
Title: Re: The Symphony of Sympathy.
Post by: Naysayer on December 21, 2019, 12:43:06 PM
A Dream.

Mother, I suffer.
ďDo not hesitate.Ē
That whisper. So coarse, rough, yet elegant. Sinister. Yet, beautiful. So close, it could be felt. Yet it wasnít close. How could it be? She was on the floor, in front. Battered and broken. Stripped of emotion.
The knife felt cold, the razor sharp edge felt against my thigh. Crimson edging along the steel, out of place, but.. fitting.

The mind speaks aloud.

The day was cold. The Winter was surely approaching, soon, but not fully. The Summer felt like it was hours ago. But then, every day seems to go quicker than the last, after all.
The sun was peeking just over the forest in the distance, only visible through the small window, the only source of light in this barn. An ideal place to stay hidden, but not one that would remain that way for long. I need to keep moving, the only thing I have done, but the only thing I can do. The Arkaeduval are not far. Their towering bodies, their God-Given spells, leaving a trail of destruction and misery in their wake. Something we all do, just in different manners. I have to keep moving. The Free Cities continue to spout their talk. Gathering arms, gathering souls. Fighting. Falling. A constant cycle, one that is never-changing.

Suddenly, that knock. Number Three. The scream that sent shivers down my spine. A blood-curdling scream, as her eyes finally found mine. I had no choice. For what Iíve done, what Iíve been to, I had nothing to do but to repeat the same motion as the rest.
My hand found the hilt. Gripped the leather, my knuckles turning white from worry and the discord of thoughts between my head. But the act was still harsher than intended. The blade flashed once as the metal met the sun-beams through the window, finding its way through the woman's neck. That familiar sound, the strangling from the metal that met each breathe, and then the moment the life left. Off to find its peace in the Hollow. Once more, that whisper.

ďNumber Three.Ē

Title: Re: The Symphony of Sympathy.
Post by: Naysayer on December 21, 2019, 12:43:20 PM
Memento Mori.

In the beginning, ten feet touch the sand.

One is lifted in chains, soon to be consumed.

Eight feet touch the sand. The Shadows draw closer.

One is killed, consumed by darkness.

Six feet touch the sand. The Shadows draw closer.

One is killed, consumed by darkness.

Four feet touch the sand.

Which will make it?