DnD
Yes, I know, I'm a dirty [edit- I mean stinky... pfft, so little difference...] roleplayer... but it gives me an excuse to write. When I started I was asked to think up a reason of why my character was in the starting city, and I didn't give one. So... this is my reason, I hope it's an acceptable one! :P
My name is Kali Liádon. It is not a particularly adventurous or brave name, but that doesn’t matter, for I am not a particularly adventure-loving or brave person. To me, it is a name that conjures up images of an obedient daughter, a passionate environmentalist and a generally optimistic and fun-loving elf. I prefer to think of ‘Kali’ that way- it was the old me, and I do not think I resemble her in any way now. Too much has happened, little or none of it for the better. There are many who consider me insane, and indeed I do not think I have any right to argue with them. I will commit atrocities and have no idea of why I do them, and my actions very rarely make sense to anyone, let alone myself. But if I am crazy, I am not crazy by choice- I believe I have only ever made one true decision in my life, and all events that have followed have been merely consequences from that one wrong decision.
Thinking of my home as it was brings tears to my eyes, as much of the past does. I was the daughter of a high-ranking noble in a beautiful elven town, which I deliberately choose not to name, surrounded by nature and cut off from the outside world. It was a wonderful town, if at times boring. Young elves would occasionally get restless, leave for a century or two and then return, middle-aged, satisfied that our home was the best place to live in the reachable world. Their stories of outside would in turn encourage many of the younger elves to make their own journeys. As isolated as we were, it was very rare for us to receive any visitors, and those who did make the journey were treated like kings before being sent away again. It was one such visitor that changed, and ruined, my life and my town.
He called himself Rai’en. He was an exceedingly handsome charmer, an elf that the whole village fell in love with. I was certainly no exception, and it was to my delight and misfortune that it was me he chose to lavish his attentions on. He first approached my father, who granted Rai’en permission to pursue me. I suppose I should feel betrayed, but I do not- my father had little chance against his persuasive pleas and arguments, just as I had little hope of not falling helplessly in love with him. We were married within the year, and I was unbelievably happy for the next two months. It took me a long time to notice that Rai’en’s behavior was becoming a little strange, and even longer to act upon my suspicions.
People had begun falling ill with a mysterious disease, one that no healer could cure or potion relieve. It was a disease of the mind, one that had the victim ranting and raving, committing mindless acts of violence and screaming in pain from a torment no one could see or understand. I had seen Rai’en visit all these people shortly before they were afflicted, but would put it down to bad luck and think nothing more of it. He would speak of his sympathy for the victims so genuinely that I was just not capable of suspecting that he was at fault.
I will never know why Rai’en did what he did, whether he got something out of it or he just enjoyed the feeling of power it brought him. One day I caught him in the act. I had decided on the spur of the moment to visit my father, and was just walking in the room when I saw Rai’en and my father sitting together. Rai’en had both hands of the side of Father’s head and was chanting. He looked up as I entered- my father did too, but his eyes were glazed over and he did not recognize me. I screamed and tried to run, but Rai’en chanted something else and I calmed down. He motioned me to walk over and I did so- my mind was no longer my own.
“I didn’t want to do this,” he whispered, stroking my hair back. I smiled at him, confused. He began chanting again, and this is the last thing I remember clearly.
I have vague memories of returning home, of lighting a fire and watching rapturously as it consumed my house and then spread. I remember stabbing a neighbor when she ran outside screaming, and laughing with delight, although I do not think I killed her. I remember being chased by an elf I no longer recognized, who shouted words I did not understand. Beyond that, I remember very little at all.
At some stage I must have left the village, for my memories return at a Druid Grove. The druids had never heard of my town, and had seen me wandering through the nearby forest and had decided to take me in and care for me. I felt privileged, for they, being druids, could well have left me to die. But I suppose at that stage I was more animal than elven. A druid healer luckily recognized my madness as treatable, if not curable. I did not feel insane, but I was certainly not the same person I once was.
I stayed with the druids for the next few years, deciding to become one myself. They were reluctant, knowing that a part of me was broken and unpredictable, but eventually agreed. They taught me secret rituals and their druidic language, and I was accepted into the community, if grudgingly by the elders. Nature healed me like nothing else could; it filled the part of me that Rai’en had stolen (I suspect it was, and is, my ability to reason) and made me feel that I belonged. I never thought to return home, knowing that even if Rai’en had left I would no longer be welcome.
It was many years later that we heard rumours of a cure for my condition. Although I was for the most part acting rationally, occasionally I would break down into tears or fail to do something requested of me without knowing why. Animals would avoid me- they could sense something was wrong- and sometimes I would find it difficult to meditate. It was liveable, but it could have been a lot better. The cure was rumoured to be available in a nearby city. Here I was faced with a choice- to endure my life as it was, or to take a chance in looking for the cure in the city. It was a risk because I was likely to be away from nature for a few hours at least, but I believed I could control myself for that long. I took the chance. I left.
During the journey to the city I came across a wolf caught in a metal hunter’s trap. He started as I approached, whining and shaking. Like all other animals of the forest, he could tell something was wrong with me. I stopped and we stared at each other. After a time he seemed to calm, and he allowed me to approach. Although I could not touch the metal myself, I was able to use a thick stick to pry the trap away from the wolf’s leg. His leg was mangled and bloody, so I bound it and cast a healing spell over his leg. As soon his leg was healed the wolf bounded up and ran.
I did not see the wolf again until I was taking my leave of the forest at the city’s edge. As I stepped out I heard a whining, and turned around to see the wolf again, clearly pleading for me to stay. I realised he had left his pack and followed me all this way. Touched, I returned to the forest for one last day, and bonded him as my animal companion. I thought perhaps that I could use him to keep myself relatively sane while I was in the city. We entered the city together.
Entering the city was easy; I was soon to find that leaving it was not. All the shops were shut down or boarded up, and I quickly discovered that no cure was available from anyone I could talk to. Becoming stressed, I knew I had to leave the city as soon as I possibly could.
And my party knows the story (or at least some of it) from there. I might follow Eileen's example and continue to write about our adventures, I haven't decided yet. It's a challange to write about an insane person, because almost everyone has a reason for everything they do- it may not be a particularly good one, and they may promptly forget it, but it is still a reason. Insane people either need insanely bad reasons or none at all...
Hope people who have finished their exams are enjoying their freedom, and I wish good luck to those of you with remaining exams.
PS: Thanks Elise!
My name is Kali Liádon. It is not a particularly adventurous or brave name, but that doesn’t matter, for I am not a particularly adventure-loving or brave person. To me, it is a name that conjures up images of an obedient daughter, a passionate environmentalist and a generally optimistic and fun-loving elf. I prefer to think of ‘Kali’ that way- it was the old me, and I do not think I resemble her in any way now. Too much has happened, little or none of it for the better. There are many who consider me insane, and indeed I do not think I have any right to argue with them. I will commit atrocities and have no idea of why I do them, and my actions very rarely make sense to anyone, let alone myself. But if I am crazy, I am not crazy by choice- I believe I have only ever made one true decision in my life, and all events that have followed have been merely consequences from that one wrong decision.
Thinking of my home as it was brings tears to my eyes, as much of the past does. I was the daughter of a high-ranking noble in a beautiful elven town, which I deliberately choose not to name, surrounded by nature and cut off from the outside world. It was a wonderful town, if at times boring. Young elves would occasionally get restless, leave for a century or two and then return, middle-aged, satisfied that our home was the best place to live in the reachable world. Their stories of outside would in turn encourage many of the younger elves to make their own journeys. As isolated as we were, it was very rare for us to receive any visitors, and those who did make the journey were treated like kings before being sent away again. It was one such visitor that changed, and ruined, my life and my town.
He called himself Rai’en. He was an exceedingly handsome charmer, an elf that the whole village fell in love with. I was certainly no exception, and it was to my delight and misfortune that it was me he chose to lavish his attentions on. He first approached my father, who granted Rai’en permission to pursue me. I suppose I should feel betrayed, but I do not- my father had little chance against his persuasive pleas and arguments, just as I had little hope of not falling helplessly in love with him. We were married within the year, and I was unbelievably happy for the next two months. It took me a long time to notice that Rai’en’s behavior was becoming a little strange, and even longer to act upon my suspicions.
People had begun falling ill with a mysterious disease, one that no healer could cure or potion relieve. It was a disease of the mind, one that had the victim ranting and raving, committing mindless acts of violence and screaming in pain from a torment no one could see or understand. I had seen Rai’en visit all these people shortly before they were afflicted, but would put it down to bad luck and think nothing more of it. He would speak of his sympathy for the victims so genuinely that I was just not capable of suspecting that he was at fault.
I will never know why Rai’en did what he did, whether he got something out of it or he just enjoyed the feeling of power it brought him. One day I caught him in the act. I had decided on the spur of the moment to visit my father, and was just walking in the room when I saw Rai’en and my father sitting together. Rai’en had both hands of the side of Father’s head and was chanting. He looked up as I entered- my father did too, but his eyes were glazed over and he did not recognize me. I screamed and tried to run, but Rai’en chanted something else and I calmed down. He motioned me to walk over and I did so- my mind was no longer my own.
“I didn’t want to do this,” he whispered, stroking my hair back. I smiled at him, confused. He began chanting again, and this is the last thing I remember clearly.
I have vague memories of returning home, of lighting a fire and watching rapturously as it consumed my house and then spread. I remember stabbing a neighbor when she ran outside screaming, and laughing with delight, although I do not think I killed her. I remember being chased by an elf I no longer recognized, who shouted words I did not understand. Beyond that, I remember very little at all.
At some stage I must have left the village, for my memories return at a Druid Grove. The druids had never heard of my town, and had seen me wandering through the nearby forest and had decided to take me in and care for me. I felt privileged, for they, being druids, could well have left me to die. But I suppose at that stage I was more animal than elven. A druid healer luckily recognized my madness as treatable, if not curable. I did not feel insane, but I was certainly not the same person I once was.
I stayed with the druids for the next few years, deciding to become one myself. They were reluctant, knowing that a part of me was broken and unpredictable, but eventually agreed. They taught me secret rituals and their druidic language, and I was accepted into the community, if grudgingly by the elders. Nature healed me like nothing else could; it filled the part of me that Rai’en had stolen (I suspect it was, and is, my ability to reason) and made me feel that I belonged. I never thought to return home, knowing that even if Rai’en had left I would no longer be welcome.
It was many years later that we heard rumours of a cure for my condition. Although I was for the most part acting rationally, occasionally I would break down into tears or fail to do something requested of me without knowing why. Animals would avoid me- they could sense something was wrong- and sometimes I would find it difficult to meditate. It was liveable, but it could have been a lot better. The cure was rumoured to be available in a nearby city. Here I was faced with a choice- to endure my life as it was, or to take a chance in looking for the cure in the city. It was a risk because I was likely to be away from nature for a few hours at least, but I believed I could control myself for that long. I took the chance. I left.
During the journey to the city I came across a wolf caught in a metal hunter’s trap. He started as I approached, whining and shaking. Like all other animals of the forest, he could tell something was wrong with me. I stopped and we stared at each other. After a time he seemed to calm, and he allowed me to approach. Although I could not touch the metal myself, I was able to use a thick stick to pry the trap away from the wolf’s leg. His leg was mangled and bloody, so I bound it and cast a healing spell over his leg. As soon his leg was healed the wolf bounded up and ran.
I did not see the wolf again until I was taking my leave of the forest at the city’s edge. As I stepped out I heard a whining, and turned around to see the wolf again, clearly pleading for me to stay. I realised he had left his pack and followed me all this way. Touched, I returned to the forest for one last day, and bonded him as my animal companion. I thought perhaps that I could use him to keep myself relatively sane while I was in the city. We entered the city together.
Entering the city was easy; I was soon to find that leaving it was not. All the shops were shut down or boarded up, and I quickly discovered that no cure was available from anyone I could talk to. Becoming stressed, I knew I had to leave the city as soon as I possibly could.
And my party knows the story (or at least some of it) from there. I might follow Eileen's example and continue to write about our adventures, I haven't decided yet. It's a challange to write about an insane person, because almost everyone has a reason for everything they do- it may not be a particularly good one, and they may promptly forget it, but it is still a reason. Insane people either need insanely bad reasons or none at all...
Hope people who have finished their exams are enjoying their freedom, and I wish good luck to those of you with remaining exams.
PS: Thanks Elise!