Author Topic: First Light - A Sithican Tragedy  (Read 698 times)


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First Light - A Sithican Tragedy
« on: March 29, 2009, 11:09:12 PM »
Prelude 1

Life is a series of misfortunes, some we can avoid, some we cannot.  I, was one of them. 

My mother was once a woman of importance.  Long ago.  Her husband held a spot on the Har-Thelen council of Sithicus.  She was the envy of many, but even with all she had she always wanted more.  Her marriage, one of convenience, was brought to an end.  And for this, she blamed me.  From the moment of my conception.  As if it was my fault she did not love the man to whom she was married.  That he failed to fulfill her desires.  She told me about her husband, more times than I ever cared to hear.  I didn't care because he was not my father. 

It was evident at the moment of my birth of my mother's infedelity.  A true Sithican elf would have been born with silvery hair not gold.  She was cast out, and every servant with golden hair was put to the gallows to ensure that her husband could save face amongst the other councilors.  I was cast out with her.  She never told me why she didn't kill me then and there, to hide the scandal and save her marriage.  But she blamed me for it.

We lived in relative poverty for a time, most of my youth in fact.  When I was old enough, I was sent under the tutelage of the Rangers, to learn the forests and eventually join in their ranks in defense of the lands.  I learned much, but mother still hated me.  In everything I tried to appease her, to earn her love... but her disdane grew greater over time.  We had taken up residence on a farm.  While I would spend most of my days running with the rangers, I would come home each night in hopes that mother would have had a good day.  When she did, she didn't drink.  When she drank, she would go on a tirade and accuse me for everything.  From the rain, to the chickens who did not lay eggs.  Those nights were the worst.  Everyone knew it was not safe to travel the forests by night, but for me, it was neither safe to remain indoors. 

I would explain the bruises to the rangers as clumsiness on my part in the previous days tasks.  Most didn't care enough to question, though I felt a couple did suspect it was from something else.  One particular night I took my time returning home.  I had a feeling of foreboding deep in my gut.  The moon was high in the sky, and the sounds of the night were terrifying for someone not quite yet of age.  I waited as long as I could, before the fear of what was outside surpassed the fear of what might be waiting at home.  But fortunately, mother was passed out before I arrived.

Come morning, as the first light of day passed through the cracks in the shutters I was jostled awake.  Nearly yanked clean out of the bed by the foot.  Mother was furious.  A wolf, or pack of wolves had gotten into the barn and slain our only cow.  Of course, I had been no where near the barn, and I knew she had left the door unbarred.  In her rage she beat me severely.  I was scared beyond any beating I had suffered before.  I don't know what happened next.

I awoke before mid-day, bruised and a bit bloody.  It hurt to open my eyes as both were badly bruised and swollen.  As I rose, I saw my mother laying on the floor in a pool of blood.  Her eyes were open, staring at me accusingly.  My dagger protruding from her chest.  I felt grief, relief, and fear all rolled into one.  I fled the farm, into the forests where I used the skills taught by the rangers to escape Sithicus. 

I ran east through the Fumewood and into the Iron hills, exhaustion wearing me down.  I remember the mists, I remember throwing it all away as I entered them.  I remember choking. 
« Last Edit: March 30, 2009, 01:52:39 AM by Mcskinns »

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Re: First Light - A Sithican Tragedy
« Reply #1 on: March 30, 2009, 02:21:10 AM »
Prelude 2

I awoke before dawn, in a strange place.  My wounds were bandaged, but I yet felt the sting of the bruises and the soreness of the muscles from my flight.  My surroundings were unfamiliar, but none-the-less comforting.  I tried to rise, but found myself too weak, and so I lay on a makeshift cot in a strange room.  Less than an hour later, the sounds of morningbirds filled the air, and the room began to lighten with the rising of the sun.  I was thankful to be alive.

I began to hear voices, not elven in nature, but fortune smiled upon me and they spoke softly in the trade tounge.  I could make out three distinct male voices, and one softer of higher pitch denoting a woman of apparant age.  I listened to their words, as they delivered their morning prayers to the Dawnbringer.  To my surprise, among their prayers were words for my recovery.  I knew not these people, nor the kindness they bestowed.  But in those moments I felt closer to them than I had ever felt to my mother.

In the weeks to come, I was fully restored to health.  My inquizative nature led me to asking many questions of them, and of their beliefs.  It was ironic to me, that in running from the scene of a murder I had committed, I should fall into the hands of people who believed in hope and redemption.  I was fearful of telling them the truth of my past, and so I only told them that I had been studying to be a ranger and had become lost and fell prey to the mists.  I could tell that the eldest of the four knew I was witholding some of the tale.  But she never pressured me to reveal more.

I remained with these people, learning of their ways, and hiding from any patrols that might be out looking for me, if any would or could be sent from Sithicus.  Many times in the years to come, usually right around dawn, I would slip into a reverie from which I had no memory.  Some times I would come out of reverie in a place different than I had entered.  The cultists said I seemed to be sleepwalking from time to time, speaking oddities in the elven tounge.  Harm never came from these episodes, but they troubled me greatly. I remained there for 10 years, not long by my standards, but quite the time for the three men who were now greying of hair.  The eldest, nearly 70 now was not long for this world.

She had become to me the mother I had never truely had.  But it pained me when she asked a promise from me, to return to my homeland and face the things which had chased me away a few years before.  She assured me that through faith in the Morninglord, and through perseverance, I would overcome my unusual reveries.  I promised her that I would return, and that I would have faith. 

I lied.

It was months after the passing of the elder that the remaining cultists insisted I seek to fulfill my promise.  Knowing I could not face my past, I lied again, and packed my things to set out on the road.  With their blessings I walked out into the woods, only to change my course and head further from Sithicus.  Seeking safety where I could find it at night, I travelled at first light until dusk.  One morning I recall stopping to offer my prayers to the Dawnbringer as I had become accustomed to, only to slip again into darkness.  When I awoke around mid-day I found myself walking towards a run down temple that stood across from a quaint little inn.
« Last Edit: March 30, 2009, 02:41:07 AM by DM DarkWyvern »

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