You have been taken by the Mists

Author Topic: Talking to tombstones, and other ways of making friends: Letters of Ophelia Bell  (Read 529 times)

Naiad

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A poorly written letter is burned and sent up to the sky. It's writing stiff and erratic, the spacing poor with words meandering around the page at random.

Dear Papa,

I know you probably canít read this. Being that you canít readÖand youíre dead. But maybe this will get to you somehow, and a nice spirit will read this to you. I got some bad news for you papa. I got taken up in some strange place, with strange people, and a strange way of dying. There is no Fugue here. Thatís priest-speak for I wonít find you when I die. We wonít be together no more. Iím sorry papa, but Iím okay. I met a tax collector first thing, so I knew people still had to die around here. I got it easy. Lot of priest and knights donít have such solid proof of faith as I do. People gotta die, and I gotta take care of them. I donít have to go through all the depression and horrible thoughts that come with losing a god. At least, I try not to. Death is easy to rely on. Iím a pretty lucky outlander, ya know? (An outlander is a person from our land. Just to be clear.)

I met some nice people to help me along the way. So Iím not alone. Ictinous, Ictinus, The tax collector is a really smart guy. I bet he writes with those neat twisty curves in his letters. He introduced me to a man named Sentinel Zeles. Youíd like Sentinel Zeles pa. Heís just like you. Realistic and grumpy. Also old. Heís teaching me about the dead of this place. Itís some scary stuff. Long story short, Kelemvor isnít here papa. Weíre on our own when we die here. No gods. No nothing. Just unrest. Itís spooky, but you donít need to deal with it. Iíll not go into detail, so you donít worry about me. Donít worry at all Pa. Iíll be buried proper when I die, and Iíll just sleep. You know how I like naps!

I want to write you more, but my hand is getting tired. Iíll send you another letter soon. Iíll get better at this writing thing. You were right, itís important to know all this reading and this writing. It let me talk to you, even though you are not here. Always the smart one papa.

I miss you. I love you.
XOXO
Ophie 

Ophelia Bell: Your friendly Neighborhood Grave-Keep

Naiad

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Another letter is burnt and sent to the sky.

Dear Kelemvor,

Hi. I know I should be praying instead of writing to you, but I canít feel you anymore. I kinda miss that, but Iím aware you are busy and canít reach here. Thatís okay, I figured just trying to write you might help. So, if you get this. Iím doing okay. The dead are different here, as Iím certain you are aware. Thereís no Fugue. Which isÖcreepy. It means Iíll probably never see you againÖ. are you going to miss me too?

There is a religion here called the Eternal Order. Not your Eternal Order, but kinda similar. They honor the dead like we do. They do some other stuff too. They are great. I like them a lot. Would it be wrong if I helped them? I know Iím your noviceóIím not a priestess sure, but Iím your novice and thatís important. But youíre not here nowÖwould you be angry if I learned some from them? You canít show me the way anymore, and there are no priests here either. SoooÖ if you are reading this. Know that I still love you, even if Iím listening to what Sentinel Zeles says.

Love,
Ophelia

Ophelia Bell: Your friendly Neighborhood Grave-Keep

Naiad

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Another awkwardly written, and passionately misspelled letter is burned. It's ashes sent up to the sky above.

Dear Papa,

I wish you could be here with me. You would like this place. The people here might be a bit strange, but thatís because I am mainly surrounded by adventurers, and they are weird regardless of the place. The people of this land are good people, and they remind me of home. I might be an outlander, but I sometimes feel a bit out of place among the other outlanders. I thought it was normal to not be able to fight, or write, or read very well. But most outlanders can do that already. Iím so very far behind them. I try not to let it get to me. Iím getting better at writing, but I still have trouble. Sometimes my outlander friends take it for granted and think spelling things wrong or not being able to write good means someone isnít worth taking seriouslyÖ and that kinda hurts. But all in all, they are still good folk. Iíve met a lot of great people here.

I met a few knights. -real- knights. Siegward and Vichard. They are just like the story books. Really handsome, and brave, and selfless. I spend most of my time with Vichard, and Iím certain heís the bravest person Iíve ever met. Knights are the best. Iíve also met an honest to the gods priestess of both Lathander AND Ilmater. They are just as inspiring as people say they are. They are like little beams of lightÖand itís neat to watch a -real- priestess work. I also met a druidówho turned into a BEAR! A Bear papa!

I also met a local named River who shows me different graves out in the woods. He has a pretty good head on his shoulders, and he helps with the memorial. He made the benches, the crates, the signsÖeverything really. I want to find a way to pay him back. Heís made the memorial a success, and thatís made your memorial better. Problem is, I canít think of a way to do that. Itís a shame your spirit is back at homeÖI could use your smarts. Donít worry though. Iíll think of somethingÖ. eventually.

Iíve also made friends with other locals. The garda here are like the militia back home. Underpaid and overworked. I try to help where I can. They deal with a lot of dead, and they need someone to take it off their hands. You used to tell me about how Grandpa helped the militia back in his day, and thatís how we got our home. Do you think I could do that here? It would be great to have a bed again.

As always, I miss you, but Iím making you proud!

Love,
XOXOXO
Ophie

Ophelia Bell: Your friendly Neighborhood Grave-Keep