Within the swirling Mist (IC) > Biographies

Desert sand feels warm at night

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DM Despot:

DM Despot:

Under the light of a candlelight, sitting on her hay-filled bed and the noise of the nights outside the window of the Inn Yessy begins to fill the journal with another entry. The first one being a few days before

More cycles have passed since I last wrote in here... it is quite 'strange' to say the least still. The times I wake up I expect to feel the heat of the sun burning through the tent, the noise of my family preparing the meal of the morning and the noises of our horses galloping around the desert but atlast I hear nothing but the noises of the misfortunate souls that got stuck here like myself. I believe the first jolt of homesickness is setting in, my mind is beginning to come to terms with the fact this is possibly going to be my home. I shall never see those I love again and that is quite a hard feeling to accept? I don't know... why am I even writing this anyway?

A brief pause comes on the page, a few stray droplets of ink stain the page as the elven girl stares at what she wrote. That feeling unknowns to her begins to bellow up. She feels her breathe beginning to become more shallow, a feeling of impending doom washes over her like a sandstorm and the beating of her heart becomes more rapid. A break is taken while this feeling passes over before the pen is returned

Maybe the thoughts of my adventures these days will be better? Where do I begin...? Well, I have been doing some more hunting for the tailor named Dirge. Though I have not seen him in quite some days I've stacked up quite amount of pelts. It is lucky I use to be one of the few people catching the food for our group back in the sands. It has brought me some semblance of home. I ventured a bit too deep for my capability though. Got encircled by a group of wolves and took a few scratches and bites while I defended them off me for an escape. It wasn't anything too serious but I shall be more careful next time. I know if I don't be smart then I shall join the sorry souls who got themselves killed out here for trying to be a lone solider. Besides my hunting I took part in a long adventure with a dwarven fellow I met named Bogak and his companion Caltur. Though I do not know if Caltur is still around now. Some guy who called himself a 'Cleric of War' called us a bunch of boring saps! Told us he'll show us real land and whatever else out here. So, I took him up and the others followed along. I must say he was not one for talking but his idea of fighting and getting strong as a belief is something I can get behind. Atlast though the man whose name I never did learn took us on a right adventure. I believe it was two days of non-stop travelling! My feet were in bits by the end of it all. Though I learned somethings, saw creatures I never thought could exist, visited a dwarven city and saw legions of undeath. The mysterious man though did all the work... though I tried to step in and show off my skills he called me a foolish woman. Explained to pick your battles and to think of it that is something I need to take into account while out here. I want to make my ancestor proud but I do not want an early grave. Anyhow... he took us around the mountains and such. But by the end of it the fellow who was with us kinda got lost? It was snowy, foggy and we didn't know where we were. The unknown friend decided he'd stay back while me and Bogak headed back to the Outskirts. We both agreed and made our way back somehow! The dwarf knows his roads.

Whatever the case may be I have some other stories to tell but... I grow tired of writing. It hurts my head. I don't know who I am addressing here. Maybe my ancestor? Maybe she is looking down upon me? Though I have not felt her... energy or well never did but I cannot sense... I'll write about this later. I feel my head going places I do not wish to visit right now.

Drops the book down for a moment and lets her head drop back, her eyes scanning the making of the ceiling as her mind goes to a place. A small grunt emits from the girl and she drops her vision back down to the book, letting her vision read over the writings. Refrains from adding anymore thoughts to the current entry and just finishes it off with a small doodle

DM Despot:

Another entry begins in a location that has no real value to the words being written. Yessy’s hand guides the quill along as the ink shows the story.

“I write again trying to find ways to describe whatever is going on within me. How do people deal with this? I usually see a problem as something I can just spin a blade into and call it a day but what is going on feels beyond me? It is a very unknown feeling that I am finding difficult to come up with as I write this out. There is this never ending feeling stuck inside my head, a feeling that never goes, it stinks of… what does it stink of? What would be the word to describe it? I write each word that comes to mind and waste page cause of it. It really does show that my mind is not that keen compared to others.[/size]

A brief pause comes in her writing as she lets out a deep sigh to herself, the woman’s hand touches her face that for once isn’t wrapped in silks as her slender fingers run around the texture of the heavy aged burn marks that cake the entire right side of her face and slightly leaks into her left side. Some thoughts dance their way into her mind and before they consume the quills tip is dipped in ink and the writing resumes.


“Feelings are feelings. I do not like them and wish I could pick them out with a tip of something but atlas this is just how one is made. Without feelings we wouldn’t be any better than the beasts that roam the lands. Well, there is more then beasts that roam the land I now sit in but overall, without feelings we wouldn’t be as… whatever the word is for being. I can’t seem to pinpoint the swishing and swirling in my body though. It’s hard to describe. I never felt this way and those other nights back I had what felt like… the feeling when someone holds you down by the chest, pushing down on you and cutting off your breathe, forcing their fingers around your throat and that feeling of this is it, my death is near. Only a few times have I felt that since here but there was no danger near? What was I fearing? I saw no person near me? It is strange… how can I fear something I do not see or know is making me fearful? That is if the feeling I felt was fear… maybe I have caught something since being here? A visit to the priests may find a cure. I do not know… this only showed itself when thinking back to my family, the sands that I may never see again, the sun that burns so bright, the ride out through a paradise with my kin beside me…

She stares down at the page reading over the last parts once again. The heart of Yessy begins to thump even harsher now as she continues to gulp back trying to catch her breathe as her hand shakes. The woman drops the quill and drops her head back against the wall, her hues staring up at the roof. Not even bothering to add a sketch to end of this entry.

“Is this my punishment for my failure?”

DM Despot:

Yessy awakens in a state, holding her hands to her chest, the elven girls piercing green eyes go in circles as her heart beats like a steam powered train, sweat beads trickle down her head and that sense again of someone closing their fingers around her throat, crushing away any chance of air escaping and greeting the woman to a slowed longed out death. Accompanied with the feeling of her heart almost bursting out only made this feeling worse. She quickly rolled onto her feet and stared down at the floor, waiting for this feeling to pass. As the minutes passed though the feeling didn’t seem to go away, the worse of this had come and for a moment the thought of maybe she had caught some sort of infliction while doing work out in the wilds crossed the mind. The only thing that was in reach of maybe helping was the journal and with a quick grab and quill grab the page began to be filled.

That ‘feeling’ is returned once again. I do not know how to describe it but it feels like death is trying to reach it’s longed fingers around me and pull me down, taking every breathe out of my body and forcing me into a state of suffering. I cannot escape it. No matter what I do it’s there. Sometimes it just sits in the back of my mind, like a second thought, always making me know it is there awaiting to get me at my worse moments. Creep behind me and snatch me. What a dreadful thing this feeling is, like it is acting on its own intentions. A curse maybe? That would be silly, I could not be cursed. Not that I know of. Maybe I am. Who knows at this point. I’m stuck in this land, isn’t I? This place is a curse. Something dragged me here for the failures I have on my shoulders, for the things I could not do. That is why I am here. I overheard people talk about that ‘theory’ maybe we are all here to face the punishment of the things we failed to achieve, the people we let down, the people we let… I saw that dream again. It finally returned. The night that I thought I’d forget is returning. Why now? I have not dreamt of that night in many nights. Is something here trying to remind me of that? I did almost watch a friend of mine… die. Foolish endeavours with a big group led to my friend getting killed… but the divine arcane here managed to bring him back this time but when I saw his body there and a feeling of almost repeat came over me. I saw the fire blazing again, I heard the scream, I saw them ride off…

Yessy stops her quill at the last line, staring at the ink as its droplets down the page staining it. The elves quivers while the thoughts of what haunts her, the darkness billowing in her heart shakes with a fury, a reminder that no where Yessy goes that her past will still be latched around her body till the last breath leaves her mouth. The woman shuts the journal over and drops back down onto the hay-filled bed in some Inn, sinking her face into the mattress.

“What is the point of my existence now? Where do I go from here, where is my ancestor?”

Yessy fishes out an amulet from her neck, peering down at it. The amulets design being just a simple wooden made circle with two swords carved into it crossing over with a leaf in the middle of the design. She runs her slender finger around the design, pondering.


“Has my ancestor abandoned me too?”

DM Despot:

The quill drifts across the parchment again, the letters being twirled and life being brought to the pages. Yessy writes with a reason on this day, her eyes reading each and every word she writes.

It feels strange to be honest. I have not felt like myself in these past few nights. Something is sitting on my chest, a pending feeling of doom. I can’t put it into words, but it feels like there is always someone behind me always. Not in a literal sense. I don’t think someone is behind me always or seeing things. I just feel that way. I feel like someone is always behind me in the sense of danger. I haven’t been able to easily sit down for a few hours though I try I am always feeling distracted, lost and just not there. I hate everything I am doing. I feel like sluggish with my blade sswings, my awareness of danger, my ability to talk to people. Everything feels like an effort. Am I truly sick? I do feel tired a lot now, and this new sense of danger. Maybe my body is warning me of some illness I have yet to see though I have been touched by the light of the priests amany times. So it could not be a illness. Who knows at this point? I feel terrible and that isn’t hard to write. It is just hard to describe how I feel terrible. How does one say they feel a way without knowing how they feel? There is no wounds to show, no marks of illness, no curse nor anything to show. How can you feel a way without having signs of it? How does one cure or see something they do not see. Maybe this is a side-effect of going into these lands. I feel gloomy more and more. I sawth today the local authority ‘punish’ people for going out past the curfew. Stripped them naked, beated them with sticks and called it justice? What kind of justice is that? The land is cursed enough yet they wish to add to the misery… I promised someone that I would not let my heart be drowned by the things I saw while out here and for a time it was easy, I do not practically get put off by things but lately it has been hard. The show of justice here turned something in me, and I just did not know. I mean I knew one of the people but not to a great length so why would it upset me that much? Why is it now these things are starting to stab away at my spirit…

I miss my home… I mean I’ve always missed my home since coming here but I miss it so much now. I want to see the sands again, I want to ride my horse with my brothers, I want to see my mother and father scolding me again for dumb things… everything is gone to hell. I’m being punished for my failures aren’t I? This is the faith I’ve been dealt cause of her… why didn’t I just do my job? I couldn't stop them... I watched those flames burn and did nothing...

I feel so alone. I don’t feel like someone that belongs in this land. I feel useless, I feel weak and I can’t get my head around things here. I just want to go home.

I'm not worthy..


Yessy drops her quill onto the page, letting some ink splatter into the page as it covers up apart of the ‘E’ on ‘home’. She sinks her face into her slender hands, a few deepened breathes exhale out as before long the elven woman breaks down for the first time since arriving to this prison. Every bit of emotion rolls out of her and for this moment she is just a girl who seems to be in over her head in a land that takes many lives everyday from those who step out of line. She is coming to terms with the reality to what faith lays ahead for those trapped by the mists.

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