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The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 25 Apr 2006 01:21 PM |
Day, 1
This journal is a record of my life in case I lose my memory. If you are reading this the first time it means it has happened again. You have lost your memory once more and things are very bad. If this journal has been found things are even worse and I am probably dead. FIRST THING: remember to always write in this journal your day’s experience. BEFORE you go to sleep keep this book inside your dress and tie it to yourself out of sight. DO NOT LOSE THIS BOOK. If you lose your memory again this book is your only record of your progress to finding out why this has happened.
This is where I will begin our story. I woke from a dream in the Four Winds Inn with no memory of who I was or how I got there. This dream was of a mystic figure in a hall of only doors and smoke. She spoke to me about destiny and choosing a path. I picked a door and awoke here. When I got up I looked in the mirror.
(tear stains on paper)
What I saw was horrible. My head…The name Ophelia branded onto my forehead. Who would do such a thing? I have been branded like an animal
(tear stain on paper)
My face is very beautiful. Except for this branded name on my head. I placed my hands upon the name. It is a very old scar. The lines of the letters on my skin have spaces in them. Over the years, as my head grew larger, the skin must have stretched the lines apart. I believe this branding must have been done when I was very young. Is this my name? How can I call myself this? Am I someone’s property? It disgusts me but I must use this name in hopes of finding someone who would recognize me. I must use this branded name. I have no choice.
I ripped a piece of dress I was wearing and wrapped it around my head. When I did this it felt very natural like I had been doing it for a very long time. I gathered myself and headed out hoping to find out my story. First thing I did was speak to the inn keeper. He did not know how I got into my room. He got quite upset and said I needed to pay for it. I ended up mopping the floors of the inn. After I was finished, a strange being came into the inn. It only referred to itself as Form. It was beautiful and almost translucent. I felt I must be seeing a ghost? Another man was in the room, I forget who it was, but he was also speaking to Form. This made me feel better because I was not the only one seeing this being. It spoke to me in riddles. Thinking about Form’s words gave me an ear splitting headache. I got back into my room just in time to pass out. |
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The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 28 Apr 2006 01:59 PM |
(This journal is through the eyes of Ophelia. All descriptions of other characters are through her observations only. I do not know the background of any characters mentioned. If you do not wish to have your character in this journal please PM me)
Day 2
I have remembered yesterday. I still have my mind.
I awoke this morning from a disturbing yet comforting dream. I am writing quickly hoping not to forget. The dream started with a view of me lying against a tree in a thick wood. It was a younger version of me, maybe around the age of 12. Autumn was all around and an array of colorful leaves was falling. It seemed I was unconscious. My body lay sprayed with blood, beaten and bruised. I was wearing armor that was battered and falling apart. My head was shaved and the branding was clearly visible. My hands were soaked wrist high with blood. As the view of me grew closer a man walked into my vision. I could see him from behind. His hair draped over his shoulders around large pointed ears. His clothes, elegant and long flowing, had a green tinge. His movement was slow and steady. Everything he did was with graceful purpose. He bent down and touched my face gently. He placed two long fingers upon my neck. I still laid there unconscious. He reached his arms under me. As he lifted me off the ground, the final remnants of my armor broke and fell away. This is when I awoke from the dream. I don’t know who this man was but as I write this it gives me warm feelings thinking about him.
I spent my day walking around exploring my surroundings. I spoke to anyone who would listen to me. The people who stopped to listen did not know me and looked at me with distrust. I do not blame them; I looked horrible and smelled even worse. My thoughts, though, tell me it was something more. I believe the people around here do not like me because of what I am, not who I am. The people I speak with refer to me as a half-orc and look at me with slight disgust. My face looks similar to others but my body does not. What an orc is I do not know. The other half I believe must be human.
I made another disturbing discovery today. I decided to bathe in a waterfall just outside of a place called Buckshire. While bathing I ran my hands over my back and felt many long scars. The scars were very old, like my branding. I had a hard time seeing them in the reflection of the water but they looked like the same scars I have seen on the oxen around this country. The thought made me sick. My past seemed to be filled with much pain and for a moment I was not sure I wanted to find out more about it.
After my bath, I got very hungry. I had no gold and just the clothes on my back. I thought of the oxen and them pulling large weight. Looking at my self I figured I could do the same. I spoke to a man who wished for me to deliver flour to a customer. I needed the gold and spent an hour hauling his goods. I do not hope my life amounts to just this.
I decided to try my hand at the various trades I have witnessed in my travels. I traveled around collecting any materials I could get my hands on. While doing this I meet up with the entity Form again. We spoke and I helped Form with baking some clay molds at a tinker’s house in Buckshire. Then the most unusual thing happen. While I was burning my fingers in the oven Form changed into a beautiful bird right before my eyes. I was stunned. I immediately thought Form was a god testing me in some manner. Form again spoke to me in riddles and did not give me a straight answer. It changed back into its original Form. I do not know what to think about this beautiful being. I am in a strange land.
Later that night, I was wandering around the Order of the 7 sisters. I have been told this order was renowned for their healing. I came across a room filled with adventurers. At first glance, they seemed very powerful with beautiful armor and rare weapons. I peeked in and they asked me to come in and introduce myself. I sat and listened to their tales. Lucius, a wise mage, greeted me first. This man was famous and I have heard a lot about him. He had a beautiful staff he said came from orcs. I shuttered at the though of a staff made from orcs. But he explained to me it was made by orcs not from them. Dana, a half-orc like me, was sitting in a chair. She spoke in very broken common tongue and was very small compared to the other half-orcs I have seen. Watching and listening to her revealed that her small stature was a rouse and she wielded greater power then I first thought. I must make note not to make her angry. Tomi, a Halfling, was lying on the floor unconscious. I shuttered at the thought of what must have brought this halfling down. For Tomi might have been small but he had a look and feel of an assassin. His presence made me feel uneasy, as if I took my eyes off him for a second my throat would be slit.
The group went outside and we talked late into the night. New people came and went and we had a very good time. During some general discussion, Dana spoke to me in a different language. I didn’t even realize it at first. I could understand everything that was said. This language was very familiar to me but I could not speak it back. I hope she will speak to me again in this sweet language. Lucius seem very interested in my story. I began to trust him because he generally seemed concerned with my loss of memory. He asked to see beneath my bandana. I complied. He seemed troubled but very non-judgmental. I hope to talk with these nice people again. |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 04 May 2006 12:13 PM |
Day 3,
I remember yesterday.
I had another dream last night. I am terrified by it. It was so disturbing I can barely write about it. My dream began with a view of a crowd of people sitting in bleachers. The bleachers formed a large circle around a cage. Inside the cage stood a man. He was a large man, very muscular. His hard cut body displayed a lifetime’s worth of tattoos. He held a sword and a small shield. He was banging on the shield exciting the crowd. Moving in circles and exciting the crowd into a frenzy. The cage door was opened and two men entered carrying a wooden box. I could see a large O drawn on the side. The crowd was screaming and yelling, thirsty for blood. One man left the cage while the other stood behind the box, slid one of the sides up, and ran out himself. The man with sword and shield stood ready. The crowd drew silent. A very young version of me crawled out of the box. I stood there, the nails on my hands filed to sharp little points. I had no hair. “Ophelia” was clearly branded onto my forehead. I stood their blinking with no expression, staring out into space. The man began to bang his sword and shield together. He was ready. I tilted my head a little, still completely emotionless, staring at nothing. The man charged, screaming, with sword raised into the air. My eyes focused on him. My mouth opened, spiked teeth making a cat’s hiss. The sword came down. The man’s shield suddenly exploded, sending splinters in every direction, including into his own flesh. I was instantaneously behind him. The man turned with a stump of a hand raised in the air where the shield once was. His face focused on the stump in sheer terror. His sword dropped to the ground. He brought his other hand up to the stump. Even before it arrived I was upon him. Blood spewed out from his neck as he fell to his back. I was on top of him. My younger self ripped into the man’s chest with a dog-like digging motion. The man was still. Two men entered; one with a whip. With a wrist motion he struck my back, making a deep wound. I stopped, rose slowly, and turned with that same blank expression as before. The man pointed to the box. I got in. The box was closed. The crowd roared. The dream ended.
I don’t want to even think about this anymore. I am done writing today |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 11 May 2006 09:27 AM |
Day 4
I dreamt of my mother.
My dream began with a woman running through a snow-covered forest. She was human and wore a hooded red cloak over an elegant red dress that belled out at the bottom. She was very beautiful. Long flowing brown hair peaked out of her red hood. She carried a basket with a half-orc infant child inside. The infant was me. She was running through the woods scared. Peering back every other step, looking for what was behind her. The barren trees tugged at her red clothing as she ran. She tripped over a fallen tree and fell. The infant me began to cry. The woman tried to hush me with her hands. Whispering a sweet lullaby to sooth my crying. She spoke, “Don’t worry my sweet we will be with your father soon.”
She turned her head and looked off behind her. Her eyes grew wide and a look of terror came over her face. She gathered herself and starting running again, the infant me crying even louder. In the distance men could be heard yelling. The woman ran faster and tears started to run down her face. She turned her head again. An unnatural whistling noise blasted into my ears. The woman fell hard into the snow, reaching for her basket as it tumbled away. The basket lay still, holding the infant me snuggled inside. She looked up in agony, her face covered with white powder. Her hand went to the back of her thigh. An arrow was buried deep inside. Her face filled with fear. Two men entered into my view. One carried an elegant bow. The other was a mountain of a man with a big axe. The one with the bow pointed at the woman and said something I could not hear. The large man walked over to her. She began a silent scream. The man lifted up his axe. The woman covered herself with her arms, trying to become smaller. The man brought the butt of the axe down onto her head. Her body fell limp into the snow as she lost consciousness. The man with the axe picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Then he walked over and picked up the basket. The two men walked off |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 22 May 2006 01:31 PM |
((This happened 3 weeks ago. Dang RL responsibilities always interrupting my having fun))
I have been neglecting this journal. I carry it with me wherever I go but seem to forget to write in it. Maybe it’s because I do not wish to remember what I have learned and seen. Maybe I wish to lose my memory once more. I neglect it on purpose in order to not deal with what is right in front of me.
I took my first trip to M’Goth Tukar, home of my brethren. A group of us was lead by a human named Dana who was raised by a great Tukar shaman. When I set foot between those great stonewalls and peered up to the great statue a sense of belonging came over me. As if I had been their once before. The feeling was very strong and it’s the first time I have felt this.
I spoke to Dana’s father. I asked him about orclun being taken as slaves and treated in way I saw in my dream. I showed him my branding, hoping this great shaman would help me in my quest for knowledge of my past. He stated not seeing this before and need to consult his fellow shaman. I do hope I hear from him in the future.
During this conversation Lucius the wizard, who has spoken to me before about my past, arrived. I was very curious what a man like him was doing in a place like M’Goth Tukar, but I figured he must have his reasons for being there. He spoke to the group about the Port Royal underground where anything can be bought and sold for a variety of reasons. I remembered my dream, and got a picture of myself being sold as property for pit fighting. The idea of anyone doing such a thing made me sick, and I embarrassed myself greatly vomiting all over the Great M’Goth Tukar inner hall.
The group suggested we go outside so I could get some air. We gathered around the great fire and Dana told the story of how M’Goth Tukar came into being. It was a wonderful story and got my mind off my own troubles for a short time. I fell asleep under one of the tents in this wonderful place.
I fell into another dream. A view of my younger self appeared through a veil of mist. A large cage appeared around me. I stood there with that odd emotionless look on my face. My head tilted now and again. Then a vision of myself and how I look now appeared through the mist standing right beside her. My now self was adorned in a beautiful red dress, similar to the one my mother was wearing. My now self stood there giggling like a schoolgirl. She placed her hand over her mouth as her giggle started to come out in slow motion, deepening in tone with each sound. He….he…hee……..he……he…..he….he
My younger self still stood there, emotionless and covered in fresh whip wounds. Her skin was tinted with a blood red color. The nails on her hands were sharpened. Her hands were wrist deep in blood that dripped from each finger. The droplets fell to the ground again in slow motion making a little puddle. I thought maybe if I lay down I could force myself to wake up from this evil dream. But the vision was trapped in front of me and I was frozen and could not look away.
Then the younger version of me tilted her head again and slowly turned to face my now self. My now self just stood there with a vacant look and slow motion giggling. The younger self’s mouth opened letting out a slow cats hiss. Still my now self stood. And as slow as my now self’s laughter, my younger self sprang into the air arms raised, hands and nails poised to strike. Razor sharp teeth sunk into the neck of my now self. Nails dug into her chest and back. Still my now self stood there giggling that slow demented giggle. He…he…he…he… Completely unaware of the demon child chewing into her throat. The dream started to fade away with this vision and everything grew dark. All I could hear was that giggling. He…he…he…he… I awoke realizing my own mouth was still laughing. |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 01 Jun 2006 05:48 PM |
Day 6.
I have been spending a lot of time in the desert. It is terribly hot and I hate it. The only reason I stay out here is to help a man named Ender. His caravans are being destroyed by a race of beings that have the body of a human and legs like a scorpion. I like to call them scorpios. I have killed many of these beings and have grown to really enjoy their meaty leg parts. Very salty. But I am getting off point.
I traveled to the scorpio’s lair today with two others. I traveled with a fellow Half-Orc named Orsk. I have met him in passing a couple of times before. He looks to be much older then I with his white hair and rugged face. He is from M’Goth
Tukar and is currently serving as a Tachtical advisor with the Illume Alliance. An odd woman by the name of Karli also joined us. She claims to be the greatest singer in all the lands, or something like that. I do have to admit her songs made me feel excited and pumped for battle but the woman was utterly useless when it came to hand to hand combat. In our journeys she complained about her nails being broken, the smelliness of the caves, and how gross the scropios were. Deep inside the scorpio’s lair she started stomping her feet and complaining about how she broke a nail. IN THE MIDDLE OF BATTLE NO LESS. The scorpio chieftian nearly tore my head off and she is complaining about her nails.
*The rest of this portion looks like it was written in anger has been scribble out*
((I actually really enjoy playing with Karli. I think she is really funny but due to Ophelia’s simple mindedness she can’t follow most of what Karli says. That’s why she doesn’t like her.))
But I am getting off point again and losing my head. The real reason for this entry is this: Traveling with Orsk made me feel safe. In battle I tend to lose my head and the beast inside of me takes over. I go beserk swinging at anything and everything. Screaming and yelling. Orsk critiques my behavior, trying to mold my battle rage into more calculating manuevers. His criticism teaches me to control my rage. Work with the beast and not let it take over you. His teaching reminds me of how a father would pass on the family craft to his son. I soon found out the reason why.
Orsk is my father. It’s not really that surprising. The way I feel around him, it makes complete sense. A connection that only a daughter has with her father. It cannot be explained. It just is. We came to this realization over some drinks shared in a Port Royal bar. We began to speak of our past. Orsk spoke of having to deal with the death of his traitor brother who tried to give the plans of M’Goth Tukar’s defenses to the mountain Orcs. I explained my memory loss and the dreams of my past. After a couple of drinks I started explaining the dream of my mother. I talked about her red dress. He stopped me and described her as if he was having the dream itself. Her long beautiful hair. The red hood she wore for warmth. Her beautiful long red dress. How I had the exact same green eyes as her.
When he was young, about a year after his wife died, he spent a night with a woman. He was in a bar in Icy Vail. He met with my mother. They had more than a couple of drinks. They ended up in a nearby barn and spent the night together in the hay. She left before he awoke the next day and he never saw her again. The emotions that bombarded me cannot be explained. Here sitting in front of me was a man claiming to be my father. A man I had just recently met. A man who looked very similar to me and whom spoke in similar mannerisms as me. The emotional dam broke. Tears poured from my eyes. I jumped across the table to embrace him, knocking everything to the floor. The chair that he sat upon shattered from our weight. I buried my face into his chest and cried for a very long time. The burden of wanting to know my past and the need to have a home lifted as my tears soaked his white shirt. As he embraced me lying on the floor I knew this was for real. I felt with all my heart that this must be my father. My body went limp from complete exhaustion. I was emotionally and physically drained. I left him there that night to contemplate the fact that he had just gained a daughter. That night I slept peacefully and did not dream. |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 08 Jun 2006 11:35 AM |
((The time line and what actually happened in this post are all screwed up but for story purposes I thought it fit better))
Since I lost my memory the thought of love and finding a mate wasn’t really a priority. However, since it’s an instinctual drive, I knew it would come up sooner or later. It first happened in Icy Vale with a fellow half-orc named Caddo. I have traveled a lot along side him in my short time since waking in the inn. He is short-tempered and barely able to speak common. Dirty, messy and very large in the belly. He is what one would consider a typical half-orc. Yet for some odd reason I find him very attractive. Maybe it’s the fact we are both simple minded. Maybe it’s because he is nice to me. I don’t know. Whatever it is I am having a difficult time deciding what to do about it.
We met up the other day at the inn in Icy Vale. The human residents are having some problems with our brothers, the snow orcs. Caddo and I decided to try to speak to the snow orcs in order to patch things up and stop the violence. Well…that didn’t work out very well. We traveled to the snow orc lands with hopes that we could some how stop the killings between the groups. Caddo expressed much doubt about this. Just outside of Icy Vale we came upon some snow orc scouts. I held my hands out to my sides and walked slowly toward one. I spoke in orc telling him we meant him no harm. I was filled with much confidence and pride that maybe I could accomplish something that was good in this world by stopping violence between my orc and human brethren. My head was held high and I was bright and filled with high hopes when the first arrow sliced through my left ear. The carnage that then ensued was both exhilarating and sad.
After the first arrow Caddo sprang into action. His club held high above his head and leading with his shield. I stood there motionless with my mouth hung open and blood dripping down the side of my face. Thinking how my great hopes of stopping the violence had just blown up in my face. By the time I broke out of this spell, Caddo was already upon the snow-orc. The orc had little chance. He fought bravely getting off three arrows that punched safely into Caddo’s shield. The orc showed no fear as Caddo’s club smashed into his face and blew apart his head. By this time I had pulled my weapons and was running up right behind Caddo. I saw 4 more snow-orcs jogging in from the distance. The alarm must have been sounded and now we were in big trouble. The blood in my veins began to pump hard and my view of the world turned a little red. Battle rage had taken over. The thought of the safety of my snow-orc brethren was replaced with the insatiable need for carnage. Brethren or not, orcs had gone into battle and it wasn’t going to end until the snowfields were covered in blood.
Caddo and I raised our shields to cover ourselves from the volley of arrows. We got within striking distance quickly and melee combat ensued. Caddo met with the first orc and swung low, hoping to catch the orc’s leg. The orc leapt over the swing and, as he was still airborne, his eyes grew large as his short sword swung down towards Caddo’s exposed head. I leapt off a small mound of dirt from behind Caddo my sword swinging to meet with the orc’s lower jaw. The blade passed through his lower face, teeth exploding as the jaw bone tore off. As I followed through my body collided with his mid-air. The large spike on my armored shoulder buried deep into the orc’s chest. We fell onto the icy ground sliding toward the three orcs. I rolled to my right, deftly rising to block an incoming strike with my sword. Then I continued spinning to the right, moving my arm so the large pointed end of my shield faced parallel to the ground. As I finished my spin, the pointed end of the shield jammed into the ribs of the attacking orc, producing the sound of sticks breaking. At the same time I thrust my sword into the gut of another orc standing close by. His legs buckled, causing his body to fall forward to meet with the upswing of my foot squarely into the face. His body lifted as his head flew straight back. Blood shot high into the air. As this orc fell backward to the ground, I caught a glimpse of Caddo finishing the 4th orc with a wicked upper cut swing with his club. The Orc’s head bent so far back he could see behind him as his body tumbled backwards.
I turned slowly and looked at Caddo. My head tilted slightly with no emotion. I let out a slow giggle. Caddo’s face showed an instant of fear as our eyes met. Then my face changed into a large smile. Then for the first time I thought of him in an attractive manner. Standing there in the snow with blood splattered lightly on his face and chest. Breathing heavily. I could then see why he had so many wives and how they must respect and love him deeply. We stood their staring at one another for a short while until the sputtering of the only orc still alive interrupted us.
“I…*cough* *cough*..am proud”, he said in orcish as Caddo and I kneeled by his side. He spat out some blood and continued.
“I am proud to be….struck…down by orc blood so…powerful *cough**cough*…”
I placed my hand on the orc’s chest. “Rest easy my brother. Gruin would be very proud of you. You have fought bravely and honor your tribe.”
The orc looked into my eyes and with his last breath he expelled, “TO GRUIN!!” and his body fell silent. Caddo and I looked at each other. We both realized the idea of negotiations wasn’t going to work and returned to return to Icy Vale in silence. My mind was convoluted by the feelings of disgust from striking down my brethren and the euphoria of the battle.
When we arrived at the gates of Icy Vale the guard looked at us in complete fear. He slowly grasped the handle of his sword. One look from me made him think otherwise. I can’t blame him; the sight of two towering half-orcs caked in blood would make most humans wet their pants. At this point the blood that had sprayed on my face and armor had frozen. Small flakes had started to peal off and float to the ground. As we arrived at the inn Caddo spoke for the first time.
“Ophelia have mate?” in a husky tone.
A little surprised I turned to answer, “Umm...no, Mr. Caddo, I do not. Haven’t even thought about it really.”
“Caddo big, Caddo strong, make good mate for Ophelia. Wives need strong sister like Ophelia.” As he pounded his chest.
His bluntness was extremely satisfying. Spending so much time with non-half-orcs it seems to me they enjoy avoiding the issue that’s obvious to everyone. Talking around it like its not there. Playing some kind of avoid the issue game. I think its stupid and Caddo’s bluntness was wonderful. The thought of the battle left me instantly, replaced by the thought of a large family with many sisters and little ones.
“Well Mr. Caddo, I don’t know. I enjoy your company very much. But I don’t know if I would want to share you with your other wives.”
“Ophelia be part family. Sister to wives. Raise little ones big and strong like Ophelia”
“Well Mr. Caddo let me think about it.” This was obviously strange for Caddo. He came from a society were men choose the women and the women go without question. I guess I have been spending too much time around other peoples because I wasn’t joining him without at least a little courting. The humans call it “playing hard to get”, I guess. I think it might be fun to give it a try.
((Please stay tuned for the exciting adventures of Ophelia amnesic half-orc. Due to the recent events of last night an entry will soon follow)) |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 09 Jun 2006 04:37 PM |
((This happened 2 days ago but it takes me really long to write these. Of course some events have been altered for story purposes.))
It started out a simple little plan to gather some adventurers and poke around in the desert. There has been a lot of talk around the area about snakes and a race of people called the Sslissayath. While hunting for some lion hides I was attacked by some of these Sslissayath. I defeated them easily and thought to myself that I should gather together a group and investigate their presence further. Pretty simple really. Go out there talk with some of the tribes on the coast, snoop around a little, and come home.
Cedryck and Noah, two men who I have met and done battle with, accompanied me. Cedryck is an outcast paladin from Midor and a member of the alliance started by a group of these outcast paladins. In fact, my father is member of this group. There are many Midorains as members. I have been told these people are sworn enemies of the orclun. Midorians have killed our people and done terrible things like eat our little ones. Well, my view of this paladin is this: He is an enemy of Midor and if he is not welcome there then he must be doing something right. My father seems to give some merit to these Paladins. But, my trusted friend Ms. Dana says we should kill them. I am very conflicted on this matter. I have decided to travel with them to observe them. Keep an eye on them see who is right; my father or my trusted friend.
Noah…well, Noah is a balding man who is very sleepy all the time. He drinks a lot of coffee. I really don’t know much about him. He is a nice man, though. Anyway, back to the journey. We approached the village with our hands away from our weapons, showing we meant no harm. The villiage residents ignored us. Not answering our hellos or our questions. We decided to head further up the coast. Just outside the village, two lizard men walked into view. The beach head had sparse vegetation so a battle was eminent. The two men charged our group, swords raised, hissing like snakes. The three of us stood there for a moment. I felt that the lizard men were very foolish for charging head on at three heavily armed adventurers. We made quick work of them. As they first approached, Cedryck was at the point. The lizard man swung high at Cedrych. He ducked easily, kneeled, and thrust his sword deep into the lizard man’s belly. Noah jumped off of the kneeling Cedryck into a flip. Drawing two daggers from his armor he buried them into the 2nd lizard man’s neck. He withdrew the daggers with a satisfying “Yeah!!!” and arms raised into the air to make a V. Suddenly a being flashed in front of Noah. He stood there with his hands held high. He looked down to his belly then back to us. As his head rose, his gut tore open and his innards fell to the sand. My mouth dropped open. Noah flopped to his knees, dropping his daggers to the ground. The being was almost instantaneously at his side. I got a look at it for the first time. It was a woman. A lizard woman. Its body was sleek and seductive, wearing nothing but strands of cloth. Long beautiful hair. She grasped Noah head in her hands. She looked directly at me and Cedrych, and stuck her long lizard tongue out at us. She turned and gave Noah a hard open-mouth kiss. As she withdrew her head she threw Noah’s dying body face first into the sand.
By this time the entire village was to arms and had arrived screaming “Sslissayath assassin! Sslissayath assassin!” What happened next was complete chaotic confusion. I drew my weapons and stood there flat footed, turning a little every now and then. In the few seconds of chaos that followed half of the villagers where slaughtered by this assassin. They were being cut down as this lizard woman moved like lightning. Everyone was yelling and screaming, and I was wandering around like an idiot. Then silence. One of the desert people had impaled the lizard woman on a spear.
I ran over to Noah and turned him face up. His gut was torn wide open. I began screaming for help. The villiage people just walked away. Cedryck began to pray to his Midorain god. Like that was going to help. I started applying bandages to his stomach area. It was obviously hopeless, and eventually I stood and walked away in frustration. I had taken no more than ten steps when a walking corpse rose out of the desert right in front of me. My normal reaction would have been to immediately slay this house of maggots. But the day’s events had exhausted me and I stood still. Then it spoke.
((stay tuned to the adventures of Ophelia amnesiac half-orc. Next episode..Ophelia’s mistake)) |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 13 Jun 2006 12:20 PM |
((Due to the fact I am not in game as much as I like, stupid work always getting in the way of playing games, if anyone would like to post letters to me here please do. Also, the reasons behind Ophelia’s affliction is only known by a few and she is very upset about it. She doesn’t want people to know so please RP accordingly. ))
The being said he had come for Noah. That Noah now belonged to his master. That Noah had died in the desert and now was his master’s. Or something like that. I was over come with grief. A man who came with me for a simple trek into the desert ended up dead. Now his soul belonged to some “thing”. Cedryck was talking about how he would not let this happen. How he would strike down the evil being. All I could think about was how Noah’s death was my fault. So I decided to bargain with this ghoul.
I told the Ghoul we would bring great death to his master if he gave Noah back. At this time another lizard man just happened to be approaching. I pulled my sword and threw it end over end, striking the lizard man between the eyes. “SEE?!” I told the Ghoul. We could bring his master many more dead lizard men in exchange for Noah’s return to the living. He would have none of it. Lizard men meant nothing to his master. We pleaded with the Ghoul to tell us who his master was. The only thing he would say was that the “Emissary” was his master. It was then that I made my mistake. I asked the Ghoul what needed to be done for Noah’s return. He said I needed make a boon. I was to be connected with his master through my own flesh. I looked at Noah and, with Cedryck on his knees pleading for me to stop, I agreed. I removed my armor and let it fall to the ground. My half naked body stood there as the Ghoul stuck out his hand and reached into my stomach. When I say reached in, I mean he tore a hole into my stomach. I stood there in complete horror as this walking undead tore a large piece of flesh from my body. As I fell to my knees I saw my flesh being absorbed into the Ghoul’s body. I remember little of what happened next. I know that the Ghoul raised Noah. I am sure of that because he helped me walk back to Enders. I remember the view of the bleeding hole in my stomach as I knelt in the sand. Bits and pieces are in my memory. Parts of the long walk back to Enders, without much talking. The disgust on Cedryck’s face at what I had done. The feel of Ender’s pillows as I passed out.
It is the next day as I write this. I already feel something is very different with me. My whole body is very pale. The wound has been bandaged but I feel it is infected. I cough all the time. A deep dry cough. And the worst of it: After I woke, I coughed up a fly. I have made a great mistake to save a man whom I barely know. I do not know who this “Emissary” is and I don’t know if I want to. I must not tell anyone about what happened, but I fear it will come out sooner or later. Maybe everyone will think it’s a cold. Yes this is what I will do...It’s a cold nothing else. Just a cold. |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 14 Jun 2006 06:16 PM |
((Episode 10: A deal with death))
I am growing tired. I fight this sickness that is inside. Try to take potions, remedies from the sisters, anything I can find. The coughing is getting worse. The flies are coming up more often. The wound on my stomach has turned black and is now a big hole. My skin burns at the sight of light. I feel little emotion. Everyone who sees me knows there is something wrong. I have no choice…I must seek help. I have met another with my condition. He is a half-elf named Kalannar. The same fate has befallen him. Only he died in the desert and the ghoul resurrected him. He had to make a deal to save his life, whereas I made a deal to save the life of another. What was I thinking?? I have started writing letters to Kalannar in order to further understand what is going on. I fear we will be spending a lot of time together in the near future, for good or bad.
(( The rest of this page is empty))
((The writing on the next page is very messy. It looks like, as she wrote it, her hand was shaking very badly.))
Just when I thought things were bad, they got a little worse. I believe I met the Emissary today. His name is Gabriel. I did not known true fear until I spoke to this…I don’t know what he is…human, maybe... a ghost…I don’t know what he is. You can just feel the aura of evil that surrounds this man.
I was sitting with Ms Zubeida and Ms Dana, whom I consider to be my best friends. Ms. Zubeida I have not written much of. She is a woman from the desert. I think she is around my age. I don’t really know because I have never seen her face. She always keeps it covered with a large blanket-type thing. I find this very odd, but I guess it’s the way of her people. She doesn’t like to talk about her past and I don’t know mine, so we talk about the here and now. It’s very nice and is really the only bright spot in my life lately. I have been spending a lot of time with her. We travel a lot and she is very interested in learning about Orclun and their culture. She even wishes to join the Orclun and I have been teaching her a little orcish. She is also very interested in my problem. I have told her a little and after today’s meeting I don’t know if I should say anything more at all.
Anyway, Dana and I were sitting in a clearing around the Buckshire trading post. We were giving Zubeida a lesson on orc culture. Then Lucius arrived and I found out that he and Dana were back together, which is nice because it’s good to see Dana happy again.
I am just avoiding what I need to write. ((Some ink blotches are here as if someone smashed a quill pen into the paper.))
The man Gabriel arrived and took me away from the group. I don’t know why I went with him. I am too trusting. He knew who I was already and said he had heard a lot about me. I just figured I had forgotten meeting him with my memory being so poor. Anyway, he spoke to me in slow, cold tones. He introduced himself as Gabriel and he said knew much about me from his associate Daniel. DANIEL!!!…The ghouls name was Daniel. Does this mean that Daniel was once human?? He called Gabriel his master…Now Gabriel says he is my master…is my fate going to be like Daniel’s?? What have I done??
Gabriel said my wound would close if I stopped seeking help. Then he gave me a ring and instructed me not to show it to anyone. In some of Kalannar’s letters he has sent me it says Gabriel can control him. I wonder if this ring has anything to do with it. If so I assume it’s the same for me. I can’t get rid of it. Gabriel said his master wasn’t so forgiving and would be very upset if I did. A being as evil as Gabriel has a master that is less forgiving?? I will do as he says hoping I will never have to meet his master. |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 19 Jun 2006 04:29 PM |
As I write this my emotions…my will, my ability to feel…are all slowly slipping away.
Many have come and gone, wanting to give me help. Cedryck has approached me about a group of Asashi Knights who wish to help me. He told me they have defeated this Master that Gabriel spoke of. This sounds a little promising but I have little hope. What can these people do against something SO evil? The power that this being Gabriel must control is just too great. I look at the ring that Gabriel gave me. I take it out when no one is around, just to peer deep into the blackness of it. Ms Zubeida warned me to never put it on. When I am by myself I can’t help it. The blackness is comforting. Staring at it, I don’t have to think anymore. I don’t worry about the past. I don’t worry about what I have done to myself. There is just the nothingness that’s inside the black ring. It’s so comforting. So comforting.
Earlier this day I had an odd encounter with the head of some magic Magistry. A Gnome named Solus. I know little of this Magistry. I have heard the locals talking about how the Magistry wants to regulate the use of magic. I didn’t really care. But then Solus approached me at the Broken Mask while I was speaking with Cedryck. He interrupted our conversation and said he could smell me. The wonderful smell of the undead flesh. That he could smell my wound and wanted to see it. What kind of person walks up to a stranger and asks to see a wound? This upset me greatly. Some crazy gnome walks out of nowhere and starts talking about how good my wound smelled. I waved him off as some crazy person. Odd that a group would have such a weird leader. He sat away from us and left us alone until he pulled out a black stone like the one on my ring. He stared into it like I do. Is the power of this ring so great it can control a being so powerful as this Solus? I sat there thinking about this when Ms. Dana came and forced me to come upstairs to her room and talk with her.
Ms. Dana knows. She forced me to tell her. She said many things to me that hurt my feelings. The conversation was heated, and I stayed very quiet trying to turn myself inward. Trying not to hear what she had to say, even if she was right. She said I was a fool for caring about someone of non-noble birth. For caring for a human who has a hard time staying awake. She said it was a stupid mistake. I should have let him die in the desert. She said my affliction was beyond the powers of her father and of M’Goth Tukar. That I was already dead and just didn’t know it. She did not meet this Gabriel. She doesn’t know what its like. To be near something so evil you can taste it. Ms. Dana is stronger than I. She probably would have killed him. All I did was weep in fear. How can I face something so evil if my own people cannot help me? Maybe she is right. Maybe I am dead and just don’t know it. Then our conversation was interrupted.
Solus began to bang on the doors searching for me. Said he could smell me and I could not hide. He stopped at our door and started banging on it. Ms. Dana acted quickly. She cast a spell of invisibility on me and stripped herself naked. Then she opened the door with a towel around her. The view of Solus’s face when she opened the door did strike me a little funny in this whole dark ordeal. She slammed the door in his face. Solus started casting spells to break the door down. This gnome wanted me very badly. Did he want to kill me? Eat me? Use me in some evil scheme as other’s have? I didn’t know and I didn’t want to find out. I lost my mind and could only think about getting as far away from this Solus as I could. I told Ms. Dana I had to get out of this room and away from him. She swung the door open and quickly cast a holding spell. I darted through the doorway, still invisible. I nearly ran over Lucius, who was walking down the hall at the time, and fled for my life. I am hiding now in a temple writing this, hoping he does not find me. |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 21 Jun 2006 02:38 PM |
He never found me, that Solus. That night I slept hiding in the corner of the temple. The battle in me rages on. My emotions are dulling with every passing day. But there is one thing that I can still feel…hate. Hate for those red-wearing Midorans. One in particular: Percival. I met him the first time outside of Port. I was walking alone lost in thought when he came walking along the road. Dressed in that Red Armor they wear. He took one look at me and held his nose. Then spewed from his evil lips, “Ewwww, an orc.” I was stunned. The only people I have spoken with from Midor are those Alliance Paladins. Who, quiet frankly, are pretty nice to me. But this Midor human was filth. He started insulting me and spouting talk about spreading faith and putting up some kind of outpost or something. I was furious. With all that has happened to me lately, this just made my anger worse. My boiling anger sent me into a coughing spasm. While yelling at this human filth I coughed up a mass of blood and phlegm. I spit it at him. Unfortunately it missed. He just walked off, laughing and calling me a pig. God I hate that human.
The day after this encounter Ms Dana and I were sitting together in the Great Plains area. The so-called great city of Midor could be seen in the distance. She was speaking to me about my father wanting her to protect me from the evil that has infected me. This is when the Red pig showed up again, spouting insults and walking all high and mighty. I’d had enough. I drew my weapons and challenged him. The weakling didn’t accept, but just started talking about how I am risking open war with M’Goth Tukar. Open war? He was just trying to confuse me so he didn’t have to fight. It worked…I stood there thinking about it while he laughed and walked off. He might have been right though. Being so close to Midor, many would have witnessed our battle. Plus, I heard that the Midor armor is very strong. In my weakened state the battle might have ended with my death. Thinking about that is kind of funny. I may be already dead. Maybe that could give me the upper hand. If I am already dead he can’t defeat me. NO…I must not think like that. Ms Zubieda said I must be strong. Think of the good things. Maybe I could find this Percival away from Midor. Away from prying eyes. Then sneak up to him and slit his throat. No…this is not me. I can’t think like that. Killing someone in cold blood. Why are my feelings of hate so strong? I need to look into the ring…that will make me feel better. The ring takes everything away. Just getting lost in the blackness. Feeling nothing. It’s so comforting. So comforting. |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 12 Jul 2006 09:23 PM |
I have met my tormentor. Gabriel’s master Dethsades. I was in Port, speaking to Cedryck when the ring I was given grew very heavy. Then the voice of Gabriel filled my mind. It beckoned me to the Midoran crypts. I did not hesitate to follow its call. I ran to the nearest ship to Midor. Of the trip there I remember little. I glimpsed Ms Zubeida as I ran past. I arrived at the city of evil and ran right through the heart of it. Then I was there. The crypt stood in front of me with two ghouls outside its door. Mr Kalannar, who had also been summoned, stood by my side. Fear over took me and blinded my senses.
((I will be leaving out the rest of the description of what happen next because Klannar covered it very well in his journal and I have nothing to add. Also, I am lazy.))
As I lied down in my tent I dreamt. It was the first dream in a long time. My body hung lifeless over a checkerboard. Strings were attached to my arms and legs. The strings ran upward and were attached to two wooden crosses. A giant version of the man Gabriel came into view and grabbed the crosses. He moved them back in forth, bending his wrists to and fro. My arms and legs would move here and there with the movement of the strings. I was being pulled up and down in herky-jerky, unnatural movements. The giant Gabriel laughed deeply and slowly. The vision of a giant animated rotting corpse head filled the entire background. Pieces of flesh fell off its mouth as its jaw flapped up and down rapidly. Behind Gabriel’s slow deep laugh the voice of the head hissed, ”Where is it Ophelia? Where is it Ophelia?” over and over. The words did not match the flapping jaw. This vision stayed with me for much longer then I ever would have wanted, and finally I woke up.
I have little understanding of the world around me. I know and accept this. I am what can be called “simple”. Trying to find something with little to go on is not something I am very good at. This is evident, seeing how much progress I have gained in finding out my past. I am trying my best. Two months is very little time to find something very few have heard of. I have asked Ms Zubeida for her help. She is much more intelligent then I. She also has access to great libraries that I am not permitted to go to. Each time I see my dearest friend I hope she brings some clue to this Glyph of Aman’dur. I have no idea what it is and don’t know where to begin my search.
Ms Zubeida and I were in Port the other day. I was looking for Mr. Jessup. I don’t remember how much I have written about this mighty half-orc. I know little of him. I do know he is the most powerful man in Port. Some say more powerful then the queen herself. He has a hand in everything, it seems. Controlling more then I can imagine behind the scenes. He also has a hand in my issue. He seems to know everything that happens to me. Sometimes I wonder if he knows before I do. How he is involved I do not exactly know. Another woman was there; her name was Fre’il. I have only seen her in passing. She I know even less about, although apparently she knows a great deal about me. So, the four of us had an uncomfortable little chit-chat until another man arrived. He was a famous wizard whom I have seen twice before. He has so many names that no one knows what to call him by. Xar, Xaranthir, X, Frobozz…these are just a couple of his names. I know he is evil because he grafted Lucius’s staff to his hand, causing him great grief. Only a evil man would do something like this. What happened next, though, is best to described as odd and embarrassing.
As the five of us stood in Port, the discussion of my problem came up. Apparently, this woman Fre’il knew my entire story. She forced me to tell Mr. X, threatening to tell if I didn’t. So I did. In broad daylight. In front of every passerby in Port. I told the entire ordeal to a man who I only know as some strange evil wizard who grafted a staff to my friend’s hand. In front of a woman who I later found out has more power then I can ever imagine. To Mr. Jessup, whose mighty hands seem to be involved in almost everything. I might as well have started screaming, “Come everyone, look at the giant stupid half-orc. The one who made a terrible mistake and is now part of some undead legion. Who is now telling her story to three beings who might be some of the most powerful on the planet!” The whole time we spoke Ms. Zubeida pleaded to me to bring this somewhere with at least a little privacy. Then something I was completely unready for happened. Mr. X seemed to sincerely want to help me. He told me this Glyph of Aman’dur was most likely in a place that undead cannot go and that is probably why Dethsades needed someone living to get it. He suggested seeking out the tower of Ladriel or maybe even the elves. This was maybe my first lead…and coming from a man of whom I have only heard evil things. My head was spinning. We finally went somewhere private under the suggestion of Mr. X. The rest of the conversation was pretty much about how little everyone knew about this Glyph. But at least I have some sort of lead.
The very next day I went to the Tower of Ladriel. I couldn’t get in and no one would speak to me. I also tried the elves. I went to Ferein even though it really made me kind of sick. Many hateful stares I received from those elves as I journeyed through their city. I searched everywhere. I forced myself to talk to any elf that would speak to me. I even asked to speak to the princess, doubting she would see me. Again no luck. Dead end. I do not know where to turn. I pray that Ms. Zubeida will come to me with something, anything, to go on. Time is winding down so quickly. Soon Dethsades will come for me, wanting to know where this Glyph is. I will stand there empty handed as I am turned into one of his minions. I hope being turned undead doesn’t hurt too bad.
As my last days quickly fly by I find solace in one thing. The ring. I stare at it more and more. Anytime I am alone I lose myself in the deep black nothingness. So comforting. So comforting. People ask why I don’t get rid of it. Ms Zubeida even told me to throw it into the fiery lava. I didn’t want to tell her that I didn’t want to so I did a little trick. I put the ring in the palm of my hand and turned my palm over making it look like it stuck to my hand. Really I just had it pinched between two fingers. It must look real because I did it to Lucius to and he believed it. I know the ring is evil. That it’s probably consuming my soul. But I can’t let it go. I can’t throw it away. I just keep it deep in my bag. Only bringing it out when I know I am alone. Losing myself so I don’t have to think about my past or my mistakes or anything. |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 30 Jul 2006 05:54 PM |
((This is not a journal entry, but a little look at how Ophelia’s mind works…careful, now. *giggles*))
Ophelia sits at her desk in her room at the Four Winds inn. In front of her lays her journal, 2 potions of clarity, and an ink jar with quill.
“Now...I must figure this out. Here is where I stand.” Ophelia has begun to talk to herself a lot when she is alone.
“Ok…” she pulls out two rings and a nice looking necklace from her bag, “I bought these rings today. They are supposed to make me smart. The necklace should make me feel more wise to the world around me…At least that’s what Zig told me…but he is kind of an idiot…I hope I didn’t waste my money on these stupid things.”
She shrugs and puts on the jewelry.
“Ok…now…”she holds her hands out in front of her, quill held between pointer and middle finger.
“I know I am a little foolish at times…more then a few have mentioned this ..so...maybe if I write out what is going on and who might help…and who won’t...and…hmmm..”
She bites the inside of her cheek. And she dips her quill and places on the paper. She writes as she speaks aloud. She begins to write out two columns on a page in her journal. Names on one side. How they stand on the other.
“I know this…Gabriel is a son of a bitch…I hate him…and he is evil…alright...got that much right…He wants me to get this stupid Glyph for him. What it is I don’t know…could bring the destruction of everything….could be a weapon to start some war…could be he just wants it to place on his mantelpiece of human skulls as some trophy…heck…could be used to destroy Midor…yeah that would be a treat.”
She smirks as she places Gabriel/Desth’des in the left column = Son’s of Bitches, evil man, rotting floating head, want Glyph, hope they die.
She sighs.
“They are already dead…grr..” scribbles out hope they die and adds hope they eternally suffer by living in Midor.
“There, that’s better” moves down a line.
“So...I tried getting rid of the ring and that didn’t work…Now I am trying to stay away from others and I can’t do it because it makes me to lonely…also they seem to be disappearing and being attacked”
She writes Father=missing probably dead.
She stops and a tear begins to well up.
“Stop it! Have to stay focused,” she chugs a clarity potion.
Next line. Zubeida = Almost sister, Tells me what to do a lot, being hunted by Gabriel, missing, probably dead.
She shakes her head.
“I hope she is ok…but I hate it when she keeps eaves-dropping on my talks…makes me feel like she is my mother or something…always telling me what’s wrong and stuff…No...No...No…stay focused she is a true friend.”
Next line. Ayron = nice man, good fighter, I hope he doesn’t get killed because of me. Offered to help.
“His elf girlfriend is nice for an elf and all but sure doesn’t talk much.”
Next line. Lucius = Good friend. Haven’t seen in a short while. Hope will help find Glyph. Has been in a lot of trouble lately so he can relate.
She smiles.
Next line. Dana = Still alive. Orclun Sister. Will help find Glyph.
“I wonder if they will help after I tell them how much money I need to raise. Oh…I sure hope Dana’s father lets her get married to Lucius. Even though the Giant king is really sexy.” Slight smile. Shakes head and chugs the other Clarity potion.
Next line. Mr. Jessup = Wants to help. Can arrange safe travel into Maldovia. Price 150,000 per offering.
She shudders.
“I hope he really meant “scum of the earth” when he offered. I couldn’t live with myself if they weren’t criminals. Where in the heck am I going to come up that kind of money.”
In margin. 150,000 times 3 people…she scratches head. 600,000!!!
“Oh…my…that’s a lot…..wait ” Looks at the numbers again. Scribbles out 600,000 and puts 450,000.
“Yeah that’s right I think…but that’s still a lot”
“Hmm what else?...Oh yeah”
Next line. Vestlat = Another lich. Enemy of Desth’des?? Don’t really want to talk to him but will for Mr. Fennigan. Probably will make things worse.
Next line. Byron = Head of Aristi. Seems nice. Gave me nice sword. Doesn’t even know what the Glyph is. Offered to take me to find the Glyph.
“Hmm…don’t know about this one. He said he never heard of this Glyph before and doesn’t know anything about it…How can he not know anything…it’s in his ancestors place, for Gruin’s sake…Plus if I go with him I will have to fight my way to it. Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. We will end up dead for sure.” Places three large question marks next to Byron in the margin.
“Also he said the temple where the Glyph is located has been deserted by Aristi for a thousand years…Yeah that Glyph is not protected there Zubieda . You’re wrong…Boy I am leaning towards Mr. Jessup’s deal.”
Next line. Paladins = Cedryck, Ulalume, Rosen. Alliance thing. Always butting into my stuff. Judging me.
“They were nice to me at first. But now…every time I talk to them I feel like they are looking down on me...like I am a idiot or something..”
“Who else…oh yeah of course.”
Next line. Kalannar = Haven’t seen in a while. Maybe wandering in the woods? Think he is ok. Fellow suffering same fate as me. Still sick?
“Hope you are ok, friend”
Next line. Claudia and Eliana = ???
“Hmm...they are the ones who started the fight with Gabriel the other night…Man that Claudia was a force…but...hmm...I don’t know…Eliana…I don’t know her story…she is one of those high and mighty elves..”
She places her quill back into the jar. She slumps back into her chair, looking over her little chart.
“Well then…that didn’t really clear anything up now…Did it?” |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 31 Aug 2006 04:10 PM |
((Ophelia does not have her journal in her cell. So this is more of a snapshot of what’s going on. I split the wording up every four lines so it’s easier to read.))
The first thing Ophelia did when she arrived into her Cell was to start scratching into the
wall: “Ophelia Was Here”. She would use a fingernail until it broke and began to bleed. She
used up all 10 or her orclun nails to complete it. Ophelia thought she had had a lot of time to herself at Jessup’s, but it was nothing compared to being in a cell all day, everyday.
Ophelia reacted as she always does. She tried to shut her feelings down. Reverted to a more childlike state. Denying the severity of the situation. Actually convincing herself that she liked where she was. This wasn’t hard to do. The fact is that the elves where terribly nice and would get her just about anything she wanted.
The cell was very nice indeed. It was equipped with a privacy wall for going to the bathroom. And a nice comfy bench that Ophelia would spend long periods of time rocking back and forth on, with her knees bent to her chest. And when Ophelia would sleep in her bed, instead of hiding under it, she would find it very soft and comfortable.
Friends would come every now and then. Talking with her, telling her how sorry they were and hoped she was doing well. They would say very nice things that she wouldn’t really listen to. The elves even let her have some chalk that she used to draw on the floor of the cell. Crude stick-figured battle scenes. As an escape she would use her childlike imagination to picture herself in these scenes.
Killing Midoran soldiers in gruesome ways. One particular fantasy she really liked was the one where she lopped off the pig Sanner’s head. She spent much time drawing that picture. This is how she spent her time. Ophelia even began to believe this was her new home and after the trial she would be coming back to live there.
Endless hours of a fractured, fragile mind at work could bring on such absurd ideas. Underneath this fragile patchwork of her consciousness, the transformation was in full bloom. The seed was fully imbedded and beginning to sprout. Her “Goodness” losing the battle as more and more her humanity broke away.
If Ophelia was alone, she might have been able to build some kind of mental defense mechanism. Keeping some form of her current self. Maybe even somehow dealing with her past and what had happen. Coming to terms with all the evil that happened in her life. Listen to the ones who really wished to help her. Battling the demons and coming to terms with who she was.
But she wasn’t alone. Dana was there. Always there. Always talking about the trial and what needed to be done. Manipulating her to believe something that didn’t really happen. And Ophelia took Dana’s lie. Ate it up. Fully accepted it. Why? Because it was the easy way. Believing that lie was easier than dealing with the truth.
And the weapon was beginning to take shape. |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 07 Sep 2006 04:27 PM |
((A copy of a letter slipped under the door at the room Lucius was staying in at P&J. The script is child like and written quickly. It is almost illegible.))
Lucius,
DANA IS GONE!!...Dana’s body parts are gone Lucius. After me and the others left to go hide the body we got attacked along the coast outside of Port. They came out of no where. Right out of the ground. Like they were summoned or something. We fought them hard. But they just disappeared as quickly as they appeared. Then before I knew it the brandy kegs with Dana inside weren’t in my magic bags anymore. I looked everywhere but couldn’t find them. Lucius I must speak with you soon. The elves don’t have her I know that for sure. The things that attacked us were Demons Lucius…DEMONS!!! The big ones with fricken horns on them. Lucius, if I am right about who has her we are in BIG trouble.
Ophelia |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 07 Sep 2006 11:15 PM |
Lucius reads the letter grimly, nodding to himself quietly. A short time later, he returns to his room with two pony kegs of brandy, a look of determination on his face. He picks up a raven-feather quill and dips it in the jet-black ink of a bone inkwell, writing slowly and carefully. It reads as follows:
Dear Ophelia:
Do not fear. My apologies that things had to be made to appear that way. It seems that the services of Nu'men can be purchased more cheaply than I had thought. I feared that elves might be on your trail, so I arranged that little 'robbery'. I hope that nobody was hurt too badly.
Soon enough, we will make our trip to the Volcano. I have word that Naruth will be...receptive.
Yours truly,
Lucius
Lucius then strides confidently onto the streets of Port Royale, a brandy keg on each hip, making his way to his room at the Broken Mask. |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 23 Sep 2006 03:36 PM |
((I apologize for how long it took me to finish this.))
Not Guilty, and Ophelia’s manifestation is complete.
Ophelia’s not eating had caught up to her. After the first half of the trial she became very ill. To weak to move. The elves were feeding her by hand. During the days of the recess, Ophelia was alone. Alone in her cell and covering all the walls and floors with chalk drawings. Her childlike drawings even began to over lap each other. Becoming a large convoluted mess to everyone but Ophelia. Her part in the trial was over. She had testified as Dana wanted her to. Everyone with half a brain knew she was lying. But Ophelia wasn’t. She truly believed what she was saying. What really happened didn’t matter. Ophelia had implanted Dana’s version into her head and that’s what she truly believed.
So when the trial reconvened and the guard came to the stand and recited word for word the conversation that she and Dana had, Ophelia was dumbstruck. She was completely embarrassed. Embarrassed at her weakness as an Orclun. Embarrassed at how everyone was looking at her in the court room. Embarrassed how easily she could be used. She could feel the courtroom eyes bore into her as she squirmed in her chair. If Ophelia could have, she would have pulled her own mouth open and climbed down into herself. The guard laid out how weak and pitiful Ophelia really was. Now everyone knew. She was so self-absorbed that she completely ignored the rest of the trial. Ophelia was embarrassed, and broken. The Orlcun would find out how weak she really was. Deep inside she wanted to be guilty. Wanted this mockery of justice to end and her execution to be quick. Her inner self pleaded for it. Needed it. Let the humiliation end.
So, when the council said she was not guilty, she wasn’t happy. She was just confused. She had watched those elves die and didn’t do anything about it. Watched as the quintessential Orclun Dana, the person she so much wished to be like, slaughtered those elves without a second thought. How she couldn’t bring herself to kill any of them or save any of them. She spent a week or so in that cell trying to deal with the fact of how Un-Orclun she really was. Spending that time burying every feeling she had so the pain would stop. Thinking death would be soon. But it didn’t come, so the elves gave her the worst punishment they could. They let her live.
And they whisked her away and dumped her on the Ladreil shoreline. And that was it. So, Ophelia headed back to M’Goth Tukar. Not knowing what she would find there. Who she met first was Caddo. Caddo an Orclun she always found very attractive. Caddo said he didn’t know her. Pretty much said she was dead to the tribe. Which wasn’t really surprising to Ophelia. None of the tribe showed up at the trial. They didn’t care about her or Dana. Her god and her people had abandoned her. So she went to say good bye to the gates of M’Goth Tukar and found Dana’s head there on a pole. She sat up in the hills watching the head, rain pouring down on her face. Staring emotionlessly as Lucius arrived and took the head. And, later, watched as Lucius and Caddo talked about getting Dana’s body back. Sat and waited as they came out of M’Goth. Lucius saw her and asked her to help them kill some Kows to trade for Dana’s body. So that’s what Dana was worth to them. 5 Kows. The woman who chipped the whack whack pole and who was strong enough to kill the entire tribe if she had wanted to was worth only 5 lousy Kows. Again, not surprising Ophelia. She stopped caring about them. The Orclun were dead to her.
Lucius would still speak to her and maybe even consider her a friend. Even after she testified at the trial he was insane. At least she had one person left who might care about her. So when he asked her to help him try to raise Dana she said yes. Once they got the body back she helped him. She even carried the brandy jugs that contained Dana’s chopped up body parts when the elves started hassling Lucius. Just to have them stolen from her by Balors. So, Dana was now gone. Lucius couldn’t be found and was probably completely distraught about losing his loved one. Ophelia didn’t know what to do.
So, she went to the bars and drank. A lot. Thinking about her life with no family and no kin. Wondering if she was dead to Zubeida also. Wondering what friends she had left. Then she had an idea. Thought about how Mr. Jessup always seemed to help her. How he came to visit her during her imprisonment. Thought about how the prostitutes where very nice to her while she stayed in his house hiding from the elves. Thought about how she enjoyed feeding the sheep. Thought about how Mr. Jessup saved her from Desth’des. Thought about Mr. Sam and how nice he was to her and his wonderful cooking. So she decided she would go to Mr. Jessup and ask if she could stay there again. |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 15 Nov 2006 10:01 PM |
((Of course this is all OCC knowledge. Please play accordingly))
Betrayal of a Sister.
Ophelia bends down and pulls her journal from under her bed. She blows the dust off the cover and sets it at the desk as she takes a seat. She hasn’t touched this journal since the trial. She opens it and goes to the page after the last entry. She smoothes down the page and begins to write.
Been a long time, Mr. Journal. I don’t want to write about everything that has happened. Dana is dead. I see Lucius barely at all anymore. My people have turned on me and now I am dead to them. I am never welcome in Ferien again. I have spent much of my time after the trial trying to finish as many liquor bottles as I could. But no reason to talk anymore about that anymore.
There is a reason I am writing today. I need to gather my thoughts on what to do next. Shortly after Dana died and the trial was over I met an evil, evil witch. She is a worshiper of some Volcano god. The woman seems to enjoy insulting me whenever she can. I have no idea what she has against me. She is obviously evil. I have tried to keep my cool and not let it get to me but I ended up losing control.
One day I lost my cool and threw fish guts in her face. It’s hard for me to match insults with others and it’s the only thing I could think of to do. She in returned called up some kind of spell that nearly killed me right in the middle of Port. Later I was talking to some odd man named Mr. Lardo who has some problem with his mouth and cannot talk right. Well, this volcano worshiper appeared out of nowhere and I, of course, lost my cool and hit her in the back of the head with a snowball. Again with a wave of her hand she cursed me, almost killing me.
I have talked to other people and I hear much of the same about this woman. For one, Mr. Shard, a nice man I have recently met, also says she tried to hurt him. She is attacking people left and right and will be stopped. I am done being insulted from her or from anyone. Not from this witch, not from that red pig man Sanner. No one. I will not be made fun of anymore. I am not stupid. They will see what happens when you are a mean person. Mean people don’t deserve to be around us and need to be dealt with and that’s what I will do.
I once talked to Mr. Sam about a place so terrible he would barely speak of it. Aboddan. Aboddan and the Sugarman. A prison deep underground, under the realm of the demons. A place where hope itself if fed upon. Where one is sent for eternity. I don’t really understand what this means but it will do. Mr. Sam was sent there and now whenever he talks about it he just keeps repeating some poem over and over again. I have never seen Mr. Sam act like that and if this place can break someone like him it should be exactly what I need.
I will ask the Sugarman to deal with these evil people. Those who need to be put somewhere were they can’t hurt others. And that’s where I will send them. So I contacted this Mr. Sugarman and he sent the messenger Seil. Mr. Sam thinks she was one of the first to be put in Aboddan. This creepy hin has been stuck in that place for I don’t know how long. She acts like a child speaking in riddles. She is mean and nasty. She is filled with hate and lies. And she cannot die. Even with all the things wrong with her I feel for her. The pain of my life is a sliver of what has happened to poor Seil.
I watch her speak with others. I watch the feelings she brings out. How they only wish to destroy her. I have watched people chop into her flesh with axes. Break her bones. Set her on fire. Turn her to stone. People who I thought had some sense of dignity beating this poor thing in the streets. And she just keeps getting up. Smiling till her face rips. Asking others to come home with her. I am amazed how stupid some people can be. Just saying yes and shaking the poor things hand or just keep hacking into her with swords. I don’t know what I find more disgusting; Seil or those who continue to beat her. At least Seil has a reason for the way she acts.
So this is where I stand, Mr. Journal. I am dealing with something I have little understanding of to try and purge some of the evil from this land. Those who continue to insult me will pay for their crimes. What I have to give up to make my deal with the Sugarman will probably be great. But I am ready. |
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Re: The front of this journal reads, “OPHELIA PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING”.
Posted: 23 Jan 2007 08:13 PM |
Hell is Repitition
Thousands of little stick figures cover the floor, the walls, the ceiling of Ophelia’s room. Some of the figures are drawn in white chalk with little pointy ears. Some larger ones are drawn with some kind of red paste. A third type drawn in a dirty gray color. Crude battle scenes with the reds killing the whites and the gray’s killing the reds. If one could rise above her room looking down at the countless figures they would see a swirling vortex leading to a black cloud with a dried blood stained smiley face. At the top the figures formed words.
Hell is Repitition
Ophelia laid there next to the cloud. Slowing scratching at it with a large Orcun finger nail. Hell is repetition. For all intents and purposes Ophelia knew she was in it. Ophelia felt his presence all the time. The endless pit of pain and despair that was him. Thousands of screams stuck in an unending cycle of torture. His presence was with her always and came on full force when anything was spoken about him. The unyielding torment would come to the foreground sending her to her knees. Happening over and over throughout the day. Alone she would think of him and the pain would be too much. She would try to go out for some sort of distraction. But ineffably it would come up again. Either by mistake in conversation or in some demented torture as some like the hin Fennigan would do.
Hell is Repitition
And so Ophelia welcomed death for some way out of this Hell. She had died twice since meeting the Sugar man. Once by an Atalan assassin. It was a quick throat slit from behind. Then nothing. No pain no joy. Nothing. Just a sense of rising above her body. Leaving it lying in the streets of Port. Just to be sucked back in by being raised again. The second was in the Great Plains. When the dwarf wizard Balthor stormed up wielding his spells. Crushing her with a giant hand then showering her with a thousand burning energy shots. Again a feeling of being raised above her body. Again no pain, no torment, no him. Just to be sucked back in when she was raised by some demon.
Hell is Repitition
Nothing was left for her in this world. Nothing but pain, death, and betrayal. Dana, Lucius, her father, all dead. And one more for the list. The only person who truly cared about Ophelia, Zubedia. Who didn’t want her for something. She was not of her blood but was the closest thing she had to a sister. The only person who was true family. The one person who might have been able to save her from this mess was now dead. Another one to the list of love ones lost.
Hell is Repitition
Only one thing was left for certain. She had died twice and didn’t end up in Aboddan. Didn’t end up with him. Death was her escape. So when she learned from Shard that the Black Hand was going to kill off those who had been marked she welcomed it. Hoped for it. A quick throat slit and it would be over. But the time came and went and she was still here. She could go the way Salt had. But she was afraid what would happen. She couldn’t take her own life. She just didn’t have enough courage. Her last hope was to die in battle. Battle after battle for some hope of release.
*Gurgle* Hell Is Repitition |
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Am I Evil?
Posted: 29 Jan 2007 01:26 PM |
*A conversation in a cave between a large Half-orc woman and a really old man.*
((Warning: Ton of dialogue ahead. I wanted to post this to show off Renter’s great RP’ing ability and I felt it was important to anyone who cares about Ophelia’s character progression.))
Salt Sower: I finally got in touch with Nu'men, Ophelia, through an intermediary. Menaril
Salt Sower: Menarok's high priest.
Ophelia: *looking at your feet* oh...and?
Salt Sower: I received the message that for now, the sweet fellow has returned to Aboddan. He is still free, and he still wants from me what he wants from me, but for now he has been reigned in.
Ophelia: why?...and by who?
Salt Sower: The message from Nu'men implied that he had overstepped what he was permitted to do. Went a hair bit too far, is what it sounded like. I don't know how or in what actions, but that's the message I received. Isn't that interesting?
Ophelia: *nods*sooo..Nu'men controls him?
Salt Sower: It could be. Or perhaps he simply helped him to remember his rules.
Ophelia: So no what?? *throws her arms up in frustration*
Salt Sower: ...this demon, this priest of Menarok. He said favorable things about you. You had done your job, from his point of view.
Ophelia: What?? oh that just great..
Salt Sower: I don't know what is next. Jessup's assassinations are off, for the time being. There's room to breathe again, and plan. However because the sweet fellow so clearly has sway over you, you will not be a part of the solution. Not in any direct way.
Ophelia: *frowns*
Salt Sower: ...unless you can think of something that will help...
Ophelia: So am just suppose to wait around in my own little personal hell....hmm?
Ophelia: and hope things turn out ok?
Salt Sower: What hell do you speak of? What sort of hell... have you made for yourself? *genuine and inquisitive*
Ophelia: *tilts her head visibly irritated*
Salt Sower: Tell me of your hell, would you? I hadn't... I hadn't realized... that your torment was ongoing.
Ophelia: Salt...look at me...*motions to her armor* I am covered in my own blood...my days are filled nothing but him.
Salt Sower: Nothing but him? You bleed?!
Ophelia: whenever anyone speaks of it....some even torture me just because they hate me.
Ophelia: Mr. Salt...I am hated…be everyone....anyone I ever cared for is dead....do I have to go over the list??
Ophelia: *grips the bars*
Salt Sower: Would you find new cares, and begin to build a new reputation on the basis of your future deeds Ophelia?
Ophelia: Dana...Lucius...my father....and...No *sighs lowering her head* even ms Djinn.
Ophelia: *looks up at him*
Salt Sower: New cares... Polish your reputation... would you consider these things as real possibilities?
Ophelia: Salt what’s the point when whoever I get close to dies?
Salt Sower: That is true of anyone at any time. People do die, and I cannot tell you otherwise.
Salt Sower: But, you cannot let the caring for others be extinguished Ophelia. Not if you wish to escape from this hell that you have described. An earthbound hell, I might add, having little to do with this business of Aboddan and its keeper.
Ophelia: oh?...and why is that…hmm?..*glares at you* why should I care for others....why should I care when they stab you in the back?...it has everything to do with Aboddan.
Salt Sower: I am describing a way to improve your lot. That is why you should care for others. And care, and care. If you cared more for those around you, then you would find that never would you be without any to care about. No matter how many were to perish, you would still have reasons to continue. Be concerned indiscriminately for the welfare of others, irregardless of who they are.
Ophelia: *shakes her head not fully understand what you said*
Ophelia: why should I care when people betray me?
Salt Sower: Well... betrayal is a difficult thing to deal with. But certainly, the list of those you care about could always be longer than the list of those who betray you. That much is up to you.
Ophelia: *frowns sighing*
Ophelia: Salt...have you ever been betrayed? Do you know how it feels?
Salt Sower: Oh, I have. And I witnessed the entire Aristi movement, betrayed by the one that they worshiped as a god. Midoran, the deceiver. So yes, I know what it is to be betrayed.
Ophelia: I meant by people who you cared about? By people who you loved?
Salt Sower: *nods slightly* Well... I still care about them. But who are you talking about, Ophelia?
Ophelia: Lucius...*lowers her head*...and...well...Lucius...
Salt Sower: *tents his fingers* Lucius. You speak of Rosen's words to you, what Lucius no doubt whispered to her from his side of her bed.
Ophelia: Yes....I…just don't understand why he and Mr. Jessup would do that...
Salt Sower: *nods*
Ophelia: I mean Rosen could be lying but…I just don't see why should would?
Salt Sower: She would lie in order to torment you, I suppose. But she needn't lie about something that is true. Ophelia, what Rosen tells you is within Jessup's nature, and it is not against Lucius' nature exactly either.
Ophelia: *picks at the wall*
Salt Sower: Remember, even if he loved both you and Dana, a choice could have been forced upon him. For instance... could he save only one of you from execution at the hands of the elves, who do you think he would have saved?
Ophelia: Dana....I guess...*shrugs still picking at the wall*
Salt Sower: It was only through the wisdom of your judges that you were spared and the truly wicked party was executed. And I think you do know how Lucius would have chosen. *nods*
Salt Sower: Does it still taste like betrayal?
Ophelia: But it still hurts...*mumbles*
Salt Sower: I don't doubt it. And you know Ophelia, in a sense you have betrayed all those who now find themselves harried by the Sweet Fellow. You called him and now it falls to others to deal with him. In a sense, you set him on me. Doesn't that sound like betrayal?
Ophelia: *eyes widen* NO I didn't...I never wanted this...*Pleading* you have to believe me!
Salt Sower: I do believe you Ophelia, and I don't have hard feelings for you. Neither does Alton.
Ophelia: it wasn't supposed to happen like this..*frowns picking some more at the wall*
Salt Sower: Neither does anyone who really perceives what took place. It was beyond your control before you even began to dabble in diabolism. You were shown that path by Lucius and Dana, and then you were orphaned. In that sense, they both betrayed you.
Ophelia: *gives you a questionable glance*
Ophelia: *sighs lowering her head*
Salt Sower: You don't agree?
Ophelia: I..I...
Ophelia: but they cared about me....they gave me things…they said I was there friend?
Salt Sower: Then perhaps they simply failed to live up to their responsibilities. Lucius was not the most responsible mage... and Dana... well, never mind my feelings about Dana.
Salt Sower: They were your friends, even through the greatest difficulties.
Salt Sower: Come in here.
Ophelia: *walks in head lowered*
Salt Sower: Have a seat if you want. I think I've got something good to eat here...
Ophelia: *looks at it then at you then sits*
Ophelia: *chair creaks loudly*
Salt Sower: Ah, here we go.
Salt Sower: *sorts through boxes and bags*
Ophelia: *looks up at you*
Salt Sower: Have some juice.
Ophelia: *takes it*
Salt Sower: Got some skins spoiling here...
[
Ophelia: *sips it and spits it out*
Ophelia: blaahh...
Salt Sower: Eh? No good?
Ophelia: no…its fine....to...umm…sweet.
Salt Sower: Heh... yes, yes it is...
Ophelia: *places it on the table*
Ophelia: I can't eat anything that tastes like.....him.
Salt Sower: Sorry about that. I should have... well, never mind.
Salt Sower: *drapes wet hides from the rack*
Salt Sower: Yes Ophelia?
Ophelia: Was Dana evil?
Salt Sower: For a very brief time, I considered that maybe she was simply the outcome of orclun rearing. She was raised by a shaman of the orc god, Gruin after all.
Salt Sower: Now I'm not so sure. Her manipulation of you, and all those around her... Lucius even... I think that she was evil, Ophelia.
Salt Sower: I hope you can forgive me for speaking this way to her memory.
Ophelia: Its ok...*sighs*....am I evil?
Salt Sower: Little is more wicked than one who deals with demons, Ophelia. You were not ignorant or innocent of what you were doing. Demons and devils, they can do no good. Your good intentions were confounded from the start.
Ophelia: so I am evil...*lowers her head*
Salt Sower: But not irrecoverably so. As Alton demonstrated a few days ago, you have the ability to critically consider your actions and distinguish right from wrong...
Salt Sower: You have not given yourself over to the service of evil... *thinks*
Salt Sower: Or have you?
Ophelia: What do you mean given myself over?
Salt Sower: Dedicated yourself to evil's service. Your wickedness comes from your ignorance of evil forces. Your reckless diabolism for instance.
Ophelia: *looks at you confused*
Salt Sower: That is why diabolical knowledge should be stamped out at best, carefully controlled at least. These are principles of magical practice, Ophelia. Never mind what I say.
Ophelia: do you mean the things with the Suger man?
Salt Sower: *nods*
Ophelia: well...I thought I was doing good.
Ophelia: but...I guess I wasn't.
Salt Sower: *nods* You have said this, yes. You know what Jessup says about that place, that prison? He wouldn't send his worst enemy to that place. So were you really doing good by anybody?
Ophelia: *sighs* no...I guess not.
Salt Sower: Would the land have been better off for your actions? Nadia would have been... perhaps, /is/ gone... but in her place would be you yourself. One who is capable of damning another person to a hell like that. We are all better off when an evil like that is spurned.
Salt Sower: ...is she there, Ophelia?
Salt Sower: Is she in that prison?
Ophelia: I don't know....I never made the deal...I least I don't think so.
Ophelia: we were.....bargaining.
Salt Sower: You never got past the bargaining phase with the Sugar Man. Hmm...
Ophelia: *shakes her head*
Salt Sower: *paces thinking*
Ophelia: he wanted some things...I didn't want to give…and I offered something else...and…well…then it all got out of hand.
Salt Sower: Hmm.
Salt Sower: What did he want?
Salt Sower: Can you say?
Ophelia: I was trying to keep people from dealing with Seil...he wanted Byron.
Salt Sower: *resists a smile* You could not give him Byron... and Byron would never, never... At least, I don't think...
Ophelia: no...I well…I couldn't do it...I mean Byron really never did anything to me.
Ophelia: really he has only offered to help...but not been very good at it.
Salt Sower: What are you prepared to do about that, Ophelia?
Salt Sower: ...and?
Ophelia: *shrugs* I don't want to be here anymore.
Salt Sower: Here... you want me to let you out?
Ophelia: No…no...That’s not what I meant.
Ophelia: What do you think happens when you die?
Salt Sower: Well... I don't know for certain Ophelia.
Salt Sower: I don't believe its an end, really...
Ophelia: what happen when you died?
Salt Sower: Well, it seems to me that I didn't die. I can't explain it, but somehow I survived. I don't know why Seil would spread the word unless I was /actually/ dead, but... well, maybe she simply anticipated my demise.
Ophelia: oh.
Ophelia: well I think I died when Balthor killed me.
Salt Sower: *sits intrigued* Well what did you experience?
Ophelia: Well...I didn't feel anything really....nothing...no pain or no /him/....just kind of floating above my body for a little while....then being sucked back in.
Salt Sower: *nods*
Ophelia: The one thing I know is I didn't go to Aboddan…which is what I was worried about.
Salt Sower: Well... that is good to know.
Ophelia: yeah...but....*sighs* it was much better then what I feel now.
Salt Sower: I'm glad you didn't wind up in that place. I suppose they require your body in Aboddan...
Salt Sower: Well listen now, there are few reasonable moments when one should seek their own deaths Ophelia. They are very, very few. I should say that if you would spare only yourself and your own suffering, then it is not reasonable to seek your own death. But if you could multiply that greatly... If many could be saved from great suffering by your death, that would be more rational.
Ophelia: *ponders*
Salt Sower: And finally... I would not allow anyone the pleasure of taking my life were I not willing to give it. I consider what we are discussing to be the ultimate form of liberty.
Ophelia: but...I don't understand...why would I want to live with the way things are now?
Salt Sower: I will decide when and how I will pass from this life. That is a liberty I believe everyone should be entitled to.
Salt Sower: Hmm...
Salt Sower: Is there any good that you can do?
Ophelia: I don't know....what I think is good ends up being bad.
Salt Sower: *nods*
Ophelia: I...I don't know....I wish someone would tell me what’s good and bad....you know?...before I make mistakes.
Salt Sower: Heh... well that sounds like you need to associate with the right people.
Ophelia: and who are the right people?
Salt Sower: I'll tell you that Byron would never steer you wrong. There are others... but it is hard to discriminate.
Ophelia: Byron?
Salt Sower: *smiles*
Salt Sower: There are others, I suppose.
Salt Sower: Few enough, though. Shard... how do you get on with Shard?
Ophelia: He hates me now....thinks I betrayed him or something....says he doesn't trust me.
Salt Sower: *frowns*
Ophelia: yeah...I have gotten a lot of that lately.
Salt Sower: Sounds like you're going to be lonely for a time, Ophelia. Better that, than associate with those who will have you. Rosen, for instance. Valethrion... the Naruthians... there are a great many wicked people in this land. Jessup is chief among them.
Ophelia: *sighs slumping in her chair*How did things ever get this way?
Salt Sower: Ophelia... I can't answer that. But... We've got to think of something here. Some steps that you can take towards improving things.
Ophelia: Alright. Like what?
Salt Sower: Some definite steps... Some exercise for your moral compass... Alton says you have one, so it must be there somewhere...
Ophelia: well....no more demons.*nods*
Salt Sower: That's a good start!
Ophelia: *sighs*
Salt Sower: Really though. You have no reason to say anything to any demon, ever. Not even his Sweetness.
Ophelia: well its easy to say that now...but what about when he brings me down there.
Salt Sower: Demons deserve abject refusal of any sort of interaction. That should be a rule that guides your entire life.
Salt Sower: He can transport you about, but he cannot compel you to speak to him. He cannot make you do anything... he cannot take control of your will. Not if you don't let him.
Salt Sower: But really, this is a big step. Perhaps a smaller step to begin.
Ophelia: But mr. Salt....um..ok.
Salt Sower: But what Ophelia?
Ophelia: well…I was just going to say...the pain he makes me feel…how can I not talk when he can do that?
Salt Sower: *swallows dryly*
Salt Sower: If you could resist him despite the... *wavers*
Salt Sower: Well, it would be a great thing if...
Salt Sower: *clears his throat*
Ophelia: *raises an eyebrow*
Ophelia: you ok?
Salt Sower: I am.
Salt Sower: I just... well, I'm not one to give advice about handling pain, is all.
Ophelia: oh.
Ophelia: well...I have had a lot of it....and I know what it is...and I can't take the thousand screaming voices and the endless pit inside me....that’s what its like.
Salt Sower: Well, we'll think of some...
Salt Sower: [Whisper] ...thing...
Ophelia: *glances over*
Ophelia: what’s wrong?
Salt Sower: *shakes his head mutely*
Ophelia: *raises an eyebrow*
Salt Sower: It's not what I was prepared to hear from you, is all.
Ophelia: what do you mean?
Salt Sower: I didn't really know what the place would be like for you. I wasn't sure if... if I should believe what /I/ have seen of it.
Ophelia: *nods* I feel that…everytime someone speaks of him.
Salt Sower: *nods*
Salt Sower: *stands and starts to clear off the table*
Salt Sower: *spills a cup of spoiled milk across the table*
Salt Sower: dang!
Ophelia: Mr. Salt...I ...thank you…oh..
Ophelia: *gets up slowly*
Salt Sower: *scrape scrap scrape*
Salt Sower: *piling dishes with shakey hands*
Ophelia: I...errr..
Ophelia: *raises her eyebrow*
Salt Sower: It pains me to hear these things Ophelia, and to... to witness your fall. I have shut you out for these selfish reasons, to spare myself from knowing your pain.
Salt Sower: I apologize for this.
Ophelia: I...wha....I don't understand.
Salt Sower: That is alright, I only just realized this now.
Ophelia: *tilts her head*
Salt Sower: Were I less of a coward, I would know more of what you have experienced rather than keeping you at a distance. Shut out, so to speak.
Ophelia: Oh...well..*shrugs*
Salt Sower: Who knows, there may even be a solution for you within this rather overripe melon of mine..
Ophelia: its...ok....I guess...I mean you have helped me now.
Salt Sower: In any instance, you may come here any time that you need to. We will continue this, hmm? Get you free of that demon, if we can. Yes... we will try... you shouldn't be damned for trying.
Ophelia: *nods* alright...thank you mr. Salt. |
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Crossroads
Posted: 08 Feb 2007 10:56 PM |
Ophelia stands naked, waist deep in the steamy waters of Icy Vale Springs. She runs the tips of the fingers of her good hand in a circular motion in the water around her body. The two remaining fingers of her left hand, the forefinger and the thumb, hold a bar of soap she was using to bathe herself. Her good hand slowly moves to her abdomen. Her fingers running over the inward curve where Desth’des minion tore away a chunk of her flesh.
She brings her two hands together. The good hand feeling the large darkened scab were her three fingers used to be. The ones the demon bit off for her answers. She then moves her good hand over her shoulders, feeling some of the old whip scars. Then to the large scar of the hand wrapped around her bicep and to the fingerprint scar on her cheek, both a result of the sugar man touching her. Then finally she feels her forehead, were her name was branded. Many horrors accompanied with many scars in her short life.
She turns her head slowly to the shore. Her armor piled up, lying there, stained in a multitude of different shades of red. Differing layers of her dried blood forming the variety of shades. A helmet made from some ancient scull patched with mummified flesh with horns curving from its temples down to the jaw line. Empty eye sockets staring at her. Her sword lay next to the pile. She thought about the sword for a little while. Wondered how many people she actually killed with it.
She thought of Londo. The man who murdered Lucius and those women in Port. She pictured herself whispering in his ear. The anger and hate she felt for the mush mouthed man. The horrors she wanted to put him through just before she slit his throat with that blade. The righteous sword member whom she pushed after he mocked her in Paws. When in the woods nearby she turned to fight him almost leading to her death. She remembers looking into the eye holes of his helmet as his life left him. How she could see the fear in his eyes as she drove her sword through that eye hole.
She thought of the Elven woman with the beautiful eyes. Remembered her freezing with sword raised high, right before her head was exploded by Dana’s fire elemental. Her thoughts drifted to her hazy and mostly forgotten childhood. Hundreds of nameless faces all killed by her hands in the fighting pits.
“Am I evil?” she spoke to the skull, “Do I deserve this hell I have brought upon myself? Maybe the elves should have executed me? Has their mistake caused so many to be sent to hell because I asked him here?”
Ophelia looks down and runs the tips of her fingers into the water, once again speaking aloud. “I am lost. Will I go to hell for what I have done?”
She thinks of the conversation with Jessup. How she was the key to what was to be done with the Sugar man. How he told her she had fallen and what she did now would determine who she was as a person. How her anger and hate could be used to her advantage. To stop her whining like the fragiles and live like a true Orclun.
She thought of her conversations with Byron. How the people we are with shape our lives. How the people in her own life had led her astray. That she could work to repent her sins. Find people who would not lead her down the wrong path. Find the good in herself and let that lead her to the Greater good for all. The journey will be long and difficult and not all who try it succeed.
“The Greater good…what in the hell is that suppose to mean?” Ophelia says to the helmet, lowering herself onto a stone. Spreading her arms onto the ledge behind her. Her tired eyes stare out across the water that is now to her mid chest.
“Byron told me that he is an ally that will do anything he can to help me turn my life around.” She sighs, lowering her head and blowing bubbles in the water.
Behind her, no more then 10 yards away, was an old wrinkled man standing next to an even older and more wrinkled donkey harnessed to a cart. They have been standing quite some time on the dirt rutted road, watching in complete silence. The old man had been born in Icy Vale and would most likely die there. He had seen many orclun in his lifetime but never one like Ophelia. He figured she must be the epitome of an orclun woman with her physique and her body covered in scars. And he was right, she was the pinnacle of orclun sexuality.
But this one was different. Much different. Everything about the whole situation told him this woman was not orclun. Talking, in perfect common to herself, or maybe the skull next to her. He really couldn’t tell. He had never seen an orclun bathe…that was probably even more odd. Her weaponry that lay within her arms reach. What he could see of the sword was a thing of beauty. It almost seemed to sing to him. It was most definitely not the usual club or tree stump. The blood crusted armor was a full set and not the usual makeshift pieces he was used to seeing the orclun wear. Yep…everything about her wasn’t right and he had hadenough of it.
He mumbles softly, “She be a thin of eval. Come on Roxanne lets be goin before she be usein my head assa bowl.” The man tugs on his mule and quietly walks on.
Oblivous to the man, Ophelia keeps talking to her skull helmet.
“Why does Byron want to help me? Does he want something from me? Is he just doing it because he is a honorable man? That’s what others have told me. But he didn’t help me with Desth’des, so how can he help me now? Maybe I should listen to Mr. Jessup and use my anger and hate.” She blows some more bubbles.
“Both of them said it doesn’t matter what others say about me. That only I can choose what to do now.” She leans her head back, closing her eyes. “Look inside myself for good and become Novis Aristi or use my hate and anger to become powerful like Mr. Jessup.” Ophelia opens her eyes tilts her head and stares across the water for a very long time.
“I like Byron. He is a nice man. I will try his breathing and find my focus point or whatever he was talking about. Of course how am I supposed to know when to pray when he only tells me.” Sounding a little like Byron,” You will know when its time.”
“Hopefully that will let me forget my feelings for Mr. Jessup.”
Ophelia closes her eyes again and begins the technique Byron taught her in the woods outside his house. To find a focus point and think of nothing but that. She begins to think of the dream she once had of her mother. The only thing she remembers of her. The red dress, the red hood, carrying the baby Ophelia through a snow blanketed woods.
She focuses her breathing very deeply. This came easy to her. It was what she had been doing to deal with the never-ending pain and emptiness when others talked of the Sugar man. That would not be the hard part. So she sat there thinking, focusing, relaxing everything and breathing deeply. Then just like in the dream the arrow came and struck her mother’s leg. Toppling her over and sending the basket Ophelia was in rolling across the ground. Ophelia’s eyes snapped open and she sighed.
“I guess I should focus on good things. Thinks of something I like. Byron said he thought of his sword.” Ophelia turns looking at the gnomish made masterpiece of a weapon. She concentrates on it think about using it in battle. Slicing limbs off goblins. Slicing a bears head cleanly in half. Thoughts of slitting Londo’s throat.
“Hmm…I don’t think those are good thoughts. Maybe I should think of something else that I like.” She turns back to the water and closes her eyes again. Jessup shirtless with his massive chest covered in the tattoo Mr. Sam told her about. Standing over a prostrate Ophelia, looking down at her with his deep red and seductive eyes.
“NO” She shakes her head.”No…no…no. Have to think of something else.”
She tries again. This time she thinks of her dolls in the chess hall. She completely relaxes and breathes deeply. Thinking of how the pieces move. How each move has a counter move. Each piece moving faster and faster. Games finishing and starting again. Different games, different moves and but Ophelia always winning. Faster and faster the games finish and Ophelia breaths deeper and deeper.
Then Ophelia falls asleep.
But in this sleep for the first time in what seems like forever she did not dream of the Sugar man or Desth’des or dead elves or even the fighting pits. Just the pieces moving in their beautiful dance. Counter move after counter move. Game after game . |
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Re: Crossroads
Posted: 18 Feb 2007 08:37 PM |
Ophelia sits on the padded bench inside the Port Royal Chess hall. The Chessmaster knew Ophelia because of the severe beating he took in the game the first time she asked him to play. That was only one of many reasons he really didn’t like her. He hated her because she was always messing up his hall with various animal bones she left lying around. Not to mention how she always stained the benches with her filthy armor.
So, pretty much she disgusted him. But he would never say anything to her, since she stood a good 3 feet taller than him. As well as the thought that had crossed his mind more then once about how she could rip his arms off and beat him to death with them. So he had decided long ago to just let her hang around. He figured she was probably some weird gnomish experiment gone horribly wrong.
Or just some demon incarnate, it just wasn’t right the way she was so good at something he spent his whole life trying perfect. Referring to the pieces as “her dolls”. This game was meant for Royalty and army generals with mastery in strategy. Not some scar covered fingerless nitwit. So whenever she would come in and sit around he would just leave and wait till she left.
The reason why Ophelia was in the hall was that she had decided to sit and focus on her dolls till her answers came. Sir Markus had told her that one had to ask a question to your focus point for hours or even days till the answers came. So that’s what she did. Focusing on the chess pieces, her “dolls”, and the endless moves that each made. As she pictured the pieces playing out games over and over again she would ask them, “Dolls, what must I do not to go to Hell?”. She did this for about 45 minutes until she fell asleep, which for her was a pretty good feat.
6 hours later she snapped awake, lying on the floor with the thumb of her bad hand inside her mouth. The Chessmaster was wandering around and giving her nasty looks. She pushed herself up off the floor grumbling, “How is this ever supposed to work. Byron and his praying.” Followed by a long sigh. She decided she had had enough of Byron’s praying for one day.
Her stomach was now growling and sending little pangs of hunger to her brain. It had been two whole hours since she ate last and she decided she was in the mood for troll. Not just any troll but the elusive red berserker troll who made his home in the Gladden Hills. Her mouth watered at the sound of troll ribs. She had no idea that the reason that the red berserker troll had such supple rib meat was its heavy diet of rabbit mixed in with the occasional wandering elf. (If she had ever made it the Gladden hills that day she would have found the troll meat to be rough and stringy since elf was in short supply in that area these days.)
So she took the usual route to Icy Vale. The boat, the Cart, the gnomish flying machine. She didn’t really notice the odd looks and the whispering between the Vale’s Guards as she walked through the small snow covered village. She was used to it by now, looking the way she did. But if she had stopped and listened they weren’t talking about the way she looked. Nope, they were talking about Gladden and the rumors of the orclun working the fields there. So Ophelia walked on down the rutted and snow covered road. Past the hot springs and down the hill till she came just outside of Gladden.
She did notice the crack of the whips. That unmistakable sound. Crack followed by a low pitched yell. Another cack, crack, crack. All followed by yells. Ophelia walked slowly down the road that split between a large barn and a boarded-up hut. When she got around the corner in view of the fields a cold indifference fell over her. Her mind couldn’t fathom completely what she saw. Orclun men and woman working the Gladden fields. With small squatty dark colored dwarfs patrolling around the orclun, occasionally cracking their whips as they saw fit. Ophelia just stood and stared, taking in the entire disgusting situation.
Then the rage. Unbridled, uncontrollable anger. Ophelia slowly turned to the nearest Duergar slave driver she could see, who just so happened to be the first Duergar woman Ophelia had ever seen. The woman was screaming at two other orclun women. Whipping one who was lying still on the ground, seed spilled out from her now dead hand. Her clothes in pieces covered in a hundred deep fissures of blood.
Each progressive whip crack slashing deeper into the skin. The other crouched beside her screaming in orcish that her sister was dead. The Duergar woman kept screaming back in some odd language. Telling the woman “Get up, you worthless animal”. The Duergar woman was way too busy to notice Ophelia’s death march up behind her. The orclun woman did notice though and stopped her yelling, her eyes saucer wide. She had mistaken Ophelia for Death himself. Ophelia, now wearing the scull helmet with the pieces of skin hanging off it. Her eyes a deep blood red peering through the eye slits.
It’s hard to explain the sensation. A sudden stomach-wrenching, vertigo-inducing change of perspective. Your field of vision now completely backwards, following a sudden pop. Losing all feeling from the neck down. This is what the Duergar woman felt just before she was looking face to face with death. Peering at the blood red eyes through the skull’s eye slits. Fear flooding all senses, knowing her death was soon. As her vision grew clouded her body collapsed to the ground. The final moments of her life, seeing the world in a whole new perspective of her back and buttocks.
After snapping the Duergar woman’s head backwards Ophelia took her helmet off. The orclun woman peering up recognized her not as death but as the Exile. The one who The Chief Borogask said had brought shame to the tribe with the human orclun Dana. She sat in silence as Ophelia turned and walked off. She was still sitting there after Ophelia was gone and the other Duergar finally noticed the scene. And she still sat there in silence as the Duergar whipped the life out of her |
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The Morgue
Posted: 10 Mar 2007 11:38 AM |
*Flash* A momentary glimpse of consciousness. No feeling. Body numb. Then blackness again.
*Flash* Ophelia’s mind slowly being kick-started. Recently unfrozen neurons begin to fire again. Am….I…Dead….? The worlds slowly form into her head. Things begin to speed up as her brain thaws out more. Pressure is felt on her breast bone. Mumbling can be heard. Blackness again.
*Flash* Her chunky blood, a muddy stream, begins to flow to her extremities. The pressure on her chest becomes pain. Muscles begin to move on her face. She can open her eyes slowly. Blurry visions of a man in dirty robes standing over her naked body. Scalpel in hand, looking into her open chest.
“ohhhh” Is the only thing she can blow out her mouth. The man looks at her face, shrugging, mistaking her noise as escaping air.
HE IS CUTTING INTO ME!!! Sudden realization has her brain has almost fully unthawed.
“I’m…not….dead…yet” (Just to note, coming out surprisingly similar to a famous line from some goofy British comedy troop that made a couple of famous movies). The man freezes, saucer eyes staring at her face. Ophelia grabs his hand. He stumbles back, yelling something about the undead. Ophelia’s firm grip holds him.
“Back ye….undead!” is all that is heard. The man thrusts the scalpel into Ophelia’s hand. She turns, still numb to the touch, looking at her impaled hand. Her brain now able to form complete words.
“Can you take that out please. It kind of hurts.”
He complies, handing her the scalpel. Mumbling something about not another one. And he guesses he should sew her up. Ophelia falls in and out of consciousness as he crudely sews up her chest. Large grotesque stitches from hands usually not worrying about someone seeing his work. Ophelia’s vision begins to clear. Her head now pile driven into a full blown light blotching migraine. She can barely keep her eyes open as she surveys the room.
“Where am I?” She croaks. He returns with something about being in the Port Royal slums. She turns her head slowly, grenades going off in her head each time her ears pick up any minute sound. The room she is in is anything but sanitary. A pile of bodies in the corner. The marble slab she is laying on covered in layers of blood and small fleshy parts. Burlap sacks of more body parts at the side of the wall. A desk with papers strewn about covered in notes Ophelia cannot hope to understand.
“Scalpel please” says the man. Ophelia glances at the scalpel as she hands it back to the undertaker. Being a nursemaid in her own surgery. The man finishes his work. The wound is closed but it is anything then pretty, or sanitary for that matter.
Ophelia hears someone at the door. Between the pounding of her headache she picks up that it’s the man’s wife. They chat about the last time this happened. How a fat dwarf fellah woke up at the table and left. Just to be brought right back after falling on the stairs outside. Stitches rupturing spilling his guts all over the street. Ophelia tries to stand only to fall at the man's feet. The chunks of flesh on the floor are larger here and she ponders a moment hoping none of them are hers.
“How did I get here?” She spits out. The undertaker responds with how he couldn’t possibly remember where all the bodies he picks up come from during the day. The woman mentioning she might have been found in a gutter. Or maybe not.
“And my stuff?” Pawned. All of it. If Ophelia had any type of strength and wasn’t a confused pile of Orclun, the room would have had a new layer of blood and guts. A quick vision of her repeatedly smashing the couple’s heads together flashed into her mind.
“You pawned off all my stuff?” Is all she could get out. She picked up little from the following conversation. Something about how that was common practice. Ophelia couldn’t think that her headache could have gotten worse, but it just turned up a couple of notches. Millions of gold worth of equipment now in grubby little hands having no idea what stories lay behind it. Plus, and more important then any of her stuff, a dark skinned dwarf in a bag. All gone.
“I had friends with me” She blurted out between the couples constant chattering. They really seemed to enjoy there work. The woman motioned to the pile of bodies in the corner. Unclaimed mass of humanity. The woman stating those hadn’t been cremated yet. Ophelia struggled mightily to get to her feet. Stabling herself on the marble slab as she dragged her body over to the pile of remains. She begins to toss the parts around looking for faces of her friends. All the while the undertaker annoying saying, “Umm...Ms” and “Excuse me Ms you making quite a mess”. Ignoring the two she rummaged through the gore. Not finding Vrodo, Tristian or Bereil.
Sighing she realizes she is still naked. “Can I have something to cover myself with?” She got a reply of something along the effect of she would be charged for that. As long with the cleaning of the mess she had made, the stitching of her wound, labor, stress, gratuity, and a variety of other things she wasn’t listening too. Ophelia rambled over to a pile of burlap bags dumping the body parts out of one. Tore a head hole and two arm holes with her teeth and put her new dress on. It ended up barely covering her womanly parts.
“Oh you’re going to be charged for that also. One gold, and labor for cleaning up the mess” Is what Ophelia heard.
“You sold all my stuff. And I have no money,” is all she could get out as she stumbled towards the door. She had enough of these two. On any other day her temper would have been to new heights and greater good or not she would have torn these two apart, but not today.
More talk about payment, as well as a little of how rude she was, followed Ophelia stumbling down the hallway to a set of stairs leading upward. The undertaker trying to sell her an urn for her cremated body even though she wasn’t dead. Ophelia, whose headache was now off the charts, climbed upstairs. Hand on her stitches, righting herself on the wall now and again.
She finally got upstairs. The man corralled her to the desk. Stating she had papers to sign. The woman now behind the desk began pointing to various places to sign while calculating out her bill along the way. Ophelia in a cloud of confusion her body now almost completely thawed was hit with waves of pain from her chest suture, not to mention the hole in her hand. She wasn’t listening to anything the woman was saying until, “That will be 1…2…120,000 oh and one more for the bag. 120,001 gold pieces please.”
“No.” Ophelia blurted. The man now behind her mistaking her no for the urn he was trying to sell her. She scribbled her name on the forms and turned to walk out. The woman letting out a shriek as Ophelia ran into a large intricately carved statue. Ophelia steadied it before it toppled over. The woman waving the signed papers that Ophelia had 15 days to pay her bill. Ophelia turned to yell back only to run into a very rare old looking flower pot sending it crashing to the ground. The woman now hysterically screaming that she knew people that would deal with those who didn’t pay their bills on time.
Ophelia waving her off in disgust as she threw herself out the door. She met the bright lights of day in the Port Royal Slums. Limping with her hand groping her chest, she crosses the street to collapsing into a pile of garbage. There she lays unconscious, just another hobo in the Port Slums. |
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Luna
Posted: 16 Mar 2007 09:39 PM |
Ophelia sits on a hard stone bench looking into the pool at The Sisters’ Garden of Tranquility. This is the second day in a row that she has been brought to the sisters at Death’s door. The first time was after being beaten repeatedly in face by two large armor-clad trolls. The second for her throat being slit just outside of Port Royal’s gates. Thankfully Emma and Anna happen to witness this for the guards just stood and watched. For it would be assured that the guards would let her bleed out if it wasn’t for them.
And so she sits her empty eyes peering into the pound. Her hand snatching a butterfly now and again stuffing them into her mouth.
“You there little guy?” She throws out the question hopping her little spirit friend will answer.
“You probably are…just can’t talk right now. That’s ok. You know I don’t have many friends. But you seem to want to help me and that’s nice. Do you have a name little guy?”
“No,” Is the answer from her or outside her head? It’s hard to say. Ophelia already talks to herself most of the time. It was only a matter of time before she started answering.
“That’s a shame. I think you need a name. A good name. I will…hmm…I will call you Zuluna.” She nods happy with herself for coming up with such a perfect name.
“Zuluna…it’s made up of three of my dearest friends who have now past. I miss them very much and wish they were still here. Zu for Zubedia. Lu for Lucius and Na for Dana. Do you like it?”
“Maybe just Luna for short. Would be easier to remember.” An answer is placed into her head.
“Alright Luna it is. Pretty name really. Well Luna I need to talk to you but it’s hard to talk to nothing so you will be this for now,” She pulls her helmet from under the bench. An old worn out iron helmet with a set of wings just above the ear holes. The left one broken at the half way point. “This isn’t my normal helmet but it will have to do.” She sets it next to her on the bench. Adjusting it so the eye slits face towards her.
“Luna, I am very upset. A woman slit my throat today. Just outside of the gates in Port. In front of maybe 10 witnesses. I have seen the woman before. She works for Mr. Jessup. You see Luna I am being X-torted by some people in Port for a large some of gold.”
“Emma say Extortion.”
“Yes of course…that’s it. Thank you. Anyway, I cannot decide what to do. I am very tired. Every time I try to do something I think is good. It goes very very wrong. Now I am about to commit murder. Well by myself this time.”
“Why you kill…?”
“Because they took all my stuff. Sold it. Then think they can charge me for cutting me open. And to make matters worse they hired one of Jessup’s goons to threaten bodily harm till I pay up,” Ophelia chews on a finger nail.
“Plus the stupid people ruined a fine chance to turn the tide. They sold my chance to help the orcluns. I could have been a hero. I had it all worked out. I could have saved them and they would have taken me back. They would have given me a parade or something.”
“Didn’t care…”
“I know I say that. But,” Ophelia shrugs, “I don’t have a family. I don’t really have anyone. I am lonely and I am tired.”
She looks at her missing fingered hand flexing it as she struggles with feelings she doesn’t wish to have.
“I wish I could go back in time. Tell Dana not to kill those elves. I mean look at them now. Most of them are dead anyway. She could have helped me save the orclun and probably blew up those stupid peoples house. And if Dana was around then Lucius wouldn’t have been killed. Because she would have protected him.”
“Dead…you alone.”
“I know. I know. I guess I have to accept that. Luna why does this keep happening? I was really trying to be good. That dwarf could have change the face of this war. And…and its just taken away from me. I had him. Then he was gone.”
“Another?”
Ophelia sends the helmet an odd look, “In the shape I am in? Are you kidding me? I might as well just rent a room here. Look Luna your getting off track here. I have to take care of these body collectors first.”
Ophelia rubs her eyes with her two fingered hand. “Uggg…the last time I was this angry I let lose hell.” A trickle of blood runs out the corner of her mouth.
“Make stronger.”
“What do you mean make stronger? Oh…wait I get it. There is nothing that anyone could do to me that could be worse then what He made me feel.”
“Fear?”
“Only going there,” Ophelia shakes her head spitting some blood into the pool.
“Stronger”
“You know what? I think I am going to talk to Byron or Salt maybe. Ask if killing them is for the greater good.” She nods at that. “I hate asking for help but they are always nice to me. God, things would be so much easier if their house just blew up or something.” |
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