Orphan
Session 1
The Wind
The caravan ambled along the misty road, through ancient and serpentine ways. Presently an elven woman of strangely mismatched eyes and red hair, akin to the wild tangles of the passing woods, stared off in a presumed state of reverie- as was given to her elven kind. Sheathed in armor, she appeared as some fey knight. Her beauty was wreathed in melancholy, when it wasn't otherwise obscured by the hood of her fur cloak. Though the passage of time was nothing new to her, no less counted with great measure, what was a weeks travel at most felt like months- years- a lifetime.
The caravan creaked in progress, accompanied by the trod of burley oxen. From within the confines Argali sat juxtaposed in stasis. Despite her dull outward appearance, internally her mind swirled in a myriad of color. She was quite unlike her own kind, and yet, unlike the human-kind she was reared among. Indeed, she often felt like no-one at all- alien. Her only constant companion for the past decade was her faith, and even that she felt might betray her. Her ideals had won her few friends, though she didn't blame them entirely. She knew she was a troubled character. She didn't like to face her past, yet it seemed to stare and smile a rictus grin at all she admired. Her eyes closed then.
She recalled the many letters she had wrote, accusations and advice, hopes and dreams, and warnings of the color of evil. Her mouth twitched. She felt a deep seed of shame for... for what? For the smell- the scent- the reek of her weakness, and insecurities. Those things she could never define before they were surely detected by the very people she thought to save. Her fears and immaturity betrayed her, worse, she felt, than any man or beast ever could. This was pride, she decided, but it did little to alleviate the invisible and seemingly immortal sorrow it painted in her soul. For all her worth, the tax she imposed on others was meted with vengeance against herself, by herself.
Wisdom increases sorrows, she reminded herself in the vein of her holy scriptures. Her eyes opened again, only now she was unmistakably aware.
This loathing... like poison in the wine of holy communion. This desire- the leaven of the bread of my body. When all the guests are left from my table, I am left alone to sup it. She trembled in impotent rage and rose with a violent motion. With no prey to purchase she steadied herself against the caravan portal with an armored gauntlet, staring long at the road behind as calm and shame again found her.
From strength to strength, she thought,
and everlasting to everlasting. Was this the best she was capable of? Had she come so far- dedicated herself to so much- to fall so hard? Surely, she was fallen. Was this all she could concern herself when now, the fruits of her labor called her home?
The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few, she recanted. Dogma had become much of her sanity. Without the faith, however frail, she would break, and crumble again to nothing. And yet she shivered in the dust of the portal, the caravan wheels often slinging stones or mud behind its wake; some would invariably find her waiting to caress. The darkness beguiled even her keen elven senses. She knew that what was behind she would never return to- so instead she stared a final vigil. Before long, she abandoned that too, to seat herself again with the dignity she could muster.
Again, she thought of home... where tragedy waited. For all her letters, she had received some in return. The latest had set current events into motion. Jacob, her squire, had been slain. She never considered him her squire until news of his death, but that he was. When she first met him, he was a full foot shorter, but had shot up like a mustard tree over a scant few years. He was the oldest orphan among the lot, and served as more of a caretaker than a charge. The headmistress- everyone- knew he was as bright as he was industrious. Before he learned odds and ends of this and that trade, he would help in more practical manners with everything and anything to the point it became expected of him. Argali's arrival didn't start that, it only accelerated it. Jacob took to the elf like most everyone at the orphanage. She came like a bird of prey, bringing money and excitement among the so many creatures of that place. At first she merely made a donation, and was invited to stay for as long as she cared to. So she did, quickly becoming as enamored of the children as they were of her. She told them stories, played their games, and innovated new ones all the time. More: she brought order to the rebellious youths and fostered a nurturing environment. Where once the drudgery of the day reigned supreme, Argali became queen.
Jacob was enamored at once- as were all of the boys. She was like a kid herself in so many regards, save her alien origin and preternatural ability. She was magic, there was no doubt, the stuff of dreams and legends- in the flesh, and more. She often spoke of her faith, and her Christ God who she praised to the fault of many. Despite whatever misgivings her religion may have garnered, she could not be denied. Apart from the mysterious attention she gave to the orphanage, she brought treasures too, singlehandedly funding the repair of the dilapidated house and its accompanying fixtures out on the fringe of the local town and forests. Sometimes suitors would come and lend hands, yet for all the joy she conjured, she left many a man cursing her bitterly. "Married to her God," they'd say, "A zealot- A lesbian-" others. A surprising few left peaceably, admirers, serving great benefit to the orphanage thereafter.
After two years of occupation, she had become a fixture, and the cornerstone of that place. The entire time, Jacob studied her, learned her lessons, and played her games. He took to her faith more than any other, not only in interest, but in understanding. Argali was proud of him, but was also aware of his growing sexual maturity. She didn't want to hurt him, or lead him astray, a point she drove home more than most could bear. Through seasons of mood, he always returned, and so he became a confidant of hers. She began to teach him to fight, predominantly with swords, but no less the art and theory like she was taught- only with patience befitting her lineage.
For all her mystery, she had but one thread tying her to her past there: her letters. She would incessantly write correspondence to deep within the Core. She admitted that while she belonged to a Order of Templar Knights, she never felt she truly belonged amongst them. Yet she kept apprised of their dealings, until such a time she may be needed to defend the faith. While that day would never come, Jacob, who handled the mail, sometimes received letters from a certain man who claimed to be engaged to the elf, a fact she seldom spoke of, and even then, with little vigor. Jacob felt that if she received those letters, she might leave, so he kept them from her a long time. When he finally cracked and delivered the bundle, his fears were founded when she announced she would be travelling to Vallaki to meet her fiancé once more.
Try as he might, Jacob resented her, but tried to keep busy with his duties. Instead, he began to receive many letters from the absent elf addressing a great many things. Some encouraging, many alarming. A great evil had arisen in the Core, and worse, Argali was vexed greatly. He had never suspected she could express such duress and anxiety, so he thought to travel to her, but she forbad it; seemingly only finding her voice when it came to commanding him. He couldn't protest... it never ended well with her, so he obeyed, like he was taught. Though Argali was away, Jacob had a duty to the others; he refused to fail them, and by extension, her. He loved her, and though seasons passed, he stayed busy, until...
One day Argali received a letter from the Headmistress. Instantly she was afraid, for the stout and tough woman could scarcely sign her own name; Jacob handled her accounts...
Maudlyn, I'm sorry to say but Jacob got killed fighting a monster from the Deep Woods. Tichy was involved, but the story is strange. I feel like she's leaving parts out, what given her past and not. Hunters and constables have the reports, but no good information beyond what Tichy can tell them. She went alone into the woods at night, and a great black spider attacked them. She says Jacob followed her without her knowing. When pressed on it, she says she likes to visit the lake you like to pray and do your rituals at. She says its her special place, and, well, she's alright. She got away with some scrapes and bruises from running through the dark. Jacob held the thing at bay for her to run, but the men can't find any trace of him but for blood and battle. Its everywhere. He fought hard, the men say. They call him a hero, but between you and I, Maud, I wonder if it was a mistake to give him, for her. It may be horrible to you, but I'm only human, Maud. You know he was like a son for me. Tichy is a [the line has been heavily scrawled over] troubled girl. And I'm not the only one who says so. I dont know what you're into but the men have been keeping guard over us since then. Some only cause I can afford it on your account. Some I think just cause of you. Its a motley crew, and its devil days like you wrote some time back. Only here now too. They put a call out for some special hunters and knight sorts like yourself. Maybe if you arrive you can join them. They might could use your faerie charm.
We love you, Maud. We understand and don't hold you on account for not a thing. You done right for us beyond any measure I can pose you. Its devil days, and speaking for myself, I see more sense in your religion these days since some of the little ones, Anne, Yoril, in particular, been a blessing straight from your mouth, Maud. They talk like you and got more strength than me, it seems. "Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings you have perfected praise."
I think I'll get myself dunked when you come home, babe.
-Tara
Argali stared at the letter in her hands, she had read it countless times by now. Really, she was staring someplace through it all, when the caravan captain spoke from over the common din. "Strange shapes in the mists, I understand they upset the dreams." Argali considered her lonely confines. The captain hadn't spoken to her apart from camping and commencing, as was customary- often enough. She approached the forward slot to return her speech, "I don't dream, there's no worry." The rickety road was the only response. As she returned to her seat, the captain finally replied, "You sure seemed to be dreaming to me. Dreaming of dragons. I've seen stranger things in the mists; great masses trailing dreamers like you. I have an elixir that will ease your passing. Twenty wolf fang."
Argali stared at his back through the slot. "Whats your name?" She asked. "Nemo." He smiled in profile, with a mouth full of golden teeth. She narrowed her eyes over him indignantly, he feigned offence so poorly she couldn't help but chuckle. "Tell you what, elv- you stop dreaming, I'll stop caring." That gave her pause. "We'll never make it at this rate." She considered his words before replying, "Its poor custom to drink stranger's brews on the road, don't you think?" Nemo nodded his head along, before regarding her once more. "If that were my intent, I could poison you a lot of other ways, elv-" "Argali," she replied. He turned to look at her more fully and squint a modicum, before turning back ahead to serendipitously navigate a rough patch.
"Listen, Argali. Either you take the brew, or you stop dreaming. I don't get many elvs, and none with eyes like yours. I've seen everything these mists have to offer, and more, and I know you're causing this patch of wyrd- worst yet I've seen. Usually passes in a few hours." The din filled the empty air before he answered her unspoken question, "Its been three days, and I'm a little lost myself by now." He turned sharply, a pointed look, "A little." There was no humor there, but an unmistakable note of concern. "Stop the caravan," she said. Nemo turned back ahead, shrugged, and obliged.
Argali dismounted the portal through the back in her full harness, observing the edge of the woods; as impenetrable as ever. She moved toward the front and hoisted herself up with a preternatural motion. Nemo merely watched her as the caravan rocked and the oxen snorted in protest. "Rude," he proclaimed. "Sorry," she collected herself beside him, watching him meaningfully, "Show me." Nemo took his reins and started back on the road, Argali beside him. She broke the din, "You say... strange things in the mist? Dragons?" Nemo nodded, "Maybe you'll see. Its not all who can."
Over the course of a few hours, she indeed saw nothing, but felt a creeping, implacable anxiety; shivers down her spine. "There." Nemo pointed, there was nothing, but Nemo stared at the gloom over the woods. "You don't see it, do you?" Argali shook her head, vexed, "No... No I don't." She seemed disappointed, then jolted upright like she was struck by lightning, causing Nemo the laziest alarm, his eyebrows arching upward toward their center. He followed her gaze, to a cherry blossom tree along the path, and sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Stop the caravan!" she cried.
Nemo seemed tired, "This is the third time we've passed here, Argali." She was trembling, though her eyes were bright and attentive; for once, lending Nemo pause. Argali looked to him and smiled, despite her tremor. "I believe you, Nemo... don't worry, I'll settle it." Nemo fixed his brow a touch incredulously, but simply shrugged and leaned back, crossing his arms. "This time you show me," he managed as she dismounted and approached the cherry blossom. Despite the gloom, the tree retained a vibrance and floral beauty. Argali stood before it, but glanced back once to Nemo, who watched with a nominal turn of his head. He looked both at once bored, and intrigued; like his entire veneer was a costume he was no longer comfortable in.
Argali made a warding gesture, touching her hand from her forehead to her chest, then crossing from the left of her chest to the right. No sooner was the motion accomplished she kneeled under the boughs in prayer. "Lord, forgive me my sins, my trembling heart. For the spirit you have ever vested in me is of power and sound mind. My faith has been faint, but forsake me not. The more I seek, the more I find. The fever of fear has taken me far from you, but you remind me... your love cannot be taken from me. I have tread these roads, up and down, and now in circles- but narrow is the gate that keeps you. I pray we may walk it once more, and depart nevermore. Fill me with your holy ghost, that no shadow may stand against your purpose. For now Destiny awaits your perfect timing," she reached to unsheathe a sword at her hip, from among a pair, "may no man, beast, or unclean spirit keep me from it. I have tarried and lagged, I have stumbled and fallen; now I kneel, and soon I will stand again. My sorrows are without measure. You know the depths of me. Search my heart and steel my mettle. I have dreamed of death," she lowered the sword, and rose her gaze, "now may I walk the path of life, forevermore. May I abide in faith, and hope, and charity. May I forgive as you forgive me. May you reach them Lord, and soften their hearts. And instill in them a taste of eternity as I have tasted, that they may never thirst, or hunger again. May you feed the hungry, clothe the poor, and heal the sick. May our flesh fail, and your Word endure, forever. May you make us fishers of men, and keepers of your commandments. May lies consume my heart no longer. May this illusion be cast down! And sundered! And from the ruin your temple arise in a mighty shout. Keep us now and forever, humble, righteous, and true. Holy as you are, and perfect in your sight. Now comes fire, and blood. For vengeance is yours, Lord. You will repay. Your Word does not change. May your angels give witness, and your children sing glory, hosanna! For you are our God." She crossed herself like when she began, "Deliver us from strength to strength, and everlasting to everlasting. By the blood and body of Christ. May we return home, heirs and inheritors of your kingdom. Amen."
When she rose, she turned to watch Nemo, and her face was both at once fierce, and unnaturally tranquil, with the subtlest hint of joy. Nemo stared quietly, his arms folded, he turned his head to observe the mists, but simply clucked his tongue. "Alright." As Argali approached he indicated her hands, "Still need that sword?" She sheathed it, then rejoined him at his purchase, and they continued along the way.
"Sure you don't want that brew?" Now Argali clucked her tongue, then laughed. Try as he might to deny it, Nemo smiled.
~
Next//
Session 2: Ticky Tichy Tuyo
