Description
As your eyes scour the environ your gaze falls upon a young
man of modest build and stature. Messily parted wavy lockes
of dingy blonde hair frame the hollowed face of this lad.
At first glance little of note jumps out at you, he is of
average height and mass, utterly banal and unremarkable...
And yet it's odd, the arms which at first seem so barren
and yielding, upon movement they tense and reveal a taut
lithe musculature previously unnoticed. As well you begin
to reappraise his garb, though perhaps tattered and ill-kept
his chest, shoulders, calves and thighs all fill out betraying
his youthful vigor.
Your eyes draw upward to his countenance, once homely and plain
now stands starkly against the humble auspices of his blood.
Austere as castle stone is his visage, affixed eternally into
apathy and withdrawal, unbeholden to the world around him.
Creased and heavily lined his brow is tensed into a furrow,
ever unchanging as if set upon by atrophy from disuse.
The artifice of his vision, a deep smoldering blue his eyes
move with a life in contrast of the placidity that denotes
his presence. Rapidly pacing about within the confines of
their sockets regardless of the openness of the lids,
flinching occasionally from the strain.
Role
The border between life and death
Added Sun Jun 17 11:26:03 2018 at level 9:
Your eyes feel empty, enraptured by the all consuming miasma of darkness
that fills these putrid corridors offering only the respite of silence.
This is the quiet place where the repugnant vestiges of life intermingle
with the stillness of death, flowing gently about your submerged flesh
imparting the sickly sweet fragance of stagnation to your senses.
Their eyes can not reach you here, within these catacombs of refuse.
Scouring your very soul the foregone conclusion of your afflicted nature,
there is no kinship, you are unlike them. Born of misfortune and of cruel
intentions as if punishment from the gods themselves you will pilfer no
produce "Urchin", or so they say.
A deafening echo shatters the solace you had found here, dim flickering
light filters in from around the bend and your heart falls silent as it
draws ever closer. Paralysis grips ever fiber of your being as sinewy
limbs envelope your form, dragging you into the rancid recesses of the dark.
The light passes and the hand that had held your breath loosens but does
not retract, grasping onto you clinging desperately for warmth and a
calm washes over you. Your eyes begin the adjust once again as the broken
remains of a man stables himself using you as a crutch. His skin drab, his
eyes flourescent. An unsettling warmth soaks through your clothes. Blood,
his blood, it flows freely onto you from his exposed intestines you find
yourself reflexively scooping back into their owner, to his reluctant comfort.
Continued in part two
The border between life and death (2)
Added Sun Jun 17 11:29:55 2018 at level 9:
Time passes slowly as you dam the river of blood with your hands. Decaying
flesh and excrement surrounding the alcove of this tunnel generates the
sweet succor of heat passing through you and the stranger. "Thank you, child."
his voice is like a whisper straining against his own lips. A strange smile
crosses his features, an expression that seems all too unfamiliar to him
as he peers at you through the shrouded alcove.
"I had hoped to reach the surface and start anew. In spite of that, mine are
not apt to lend a compassionate ear to such betrayal. It is clear to me now
that I fell short upon the border of life and death, this wretched pit."
His eyes turn back to you, a bittersweet tinge a relief sparking faintly within.
"I would ask why you, a child of man, would be found rummaging about the
septic discharge of your own kin. You need not answer though." You meet his
eyes and are wracked with an unspoken familiarity as you commiserate his final
breaths. From his doublet he reveals a small sealed scroll and places it into
your hands, firmly disloding them from the open maw of his severed bowels.
"Take this. It is a writ of passage to Voralia. On the docks above find a man
named Balokur, tell him Vymir has sent you in his stead." His eyes begin to
drift as their light dims. "You are a kind child, you deserve better than this."
His mouth hangs open, his limbs flaccid. Vymir is no more, his form indistinct
from the rest of the carrion filling these tunnels.
Reflection
Added Sun Jun 17 11:37:06 2018 at level 9:
--------------------------------
5th day, 3role + rd month, 16th year.
--------------------------------
Today marks the the third year since I was delivered upstream along the tears.
The ferryman Balokur left me here at the discretion of my unknown benefactor,
Vymir. Not a copper to my name I found refuge for a time in the swaddle of the
temple prelate's charity. Their rule was strict, and their education expansive.
Even good-will knows its boundaries and not long thereafter I was left to my own
devices. In the city so noble and resplendent I have found myself living among
whores and thieves, as if I never left the pit from which I was spurned.
I serve my existence now trapping along the wharf, executing vermin whose
wishes are no more than to survive. I pity them as the hatchet falls upon their
necks, I do not regret it. The piercing shrieks and squeals as they struggle
wracks my ears daily, I must not regret it. The unearthed nest, the newborn
rodents will not live without their mother and I must eat if I am to survive,
I can not regret it.
-------------------------------
22nd day, 6th month, 16th year
-------------------------------
The people of the city have much in common with the rodents I protect them
from. Squirming masses fighting over scraps, cannibalising their own in times
of hardship, greedily clasping every last copper when they regard those they
see as their lesser. Using their own young where it is advantageous to them.
Another man, woman, or child dead as a pack of roaming dogs plods along the
city streets tonight. The guardsmen pay little heed for fear of retribution,
desperately clinging to their own lives as they do. Is this truly the haven
the stranger sought? I am glad he died in that purgatory, wistfully dreaming
of a world much unlike my own.
-------------------------------
1st day, 1st month, 17th year
-------------------------------
I lashed out last night. One the dockworkers in the middle of a drunken
rampage saw fit to exert his will over a beggar in the street. I rapped
the blunt end of my hatchet against his temple. The beggar had nothing
to give me but his thanks. I've earned much more than that. I see now
that in even the darkest of nights an outburst of passion truly can
change the course of events.
Summary
Added Sun Jun 17 11:40:21 2018 at level 9:
- Rederic spent most of his life in the gutter, he does not know his
parents and was treated with indifference by the townsfolk of Galadon
- After a chance encounter with a dying sympathetic dark-elf in the sewers
where Rederic would go to escape to the glares of the citizenry he was
graced with the opportunity to live in Voralian City under the pretenses
that it would be better.
- He was taken in for a short time by the temple, educated in the written
word. Eventually he was left to make his own way wherein he found work
exterminating vermin on the docks for little pay. Typically he survived
off of scraps and the rats he killed.
- This life left Rederic and the harshness with which he had been regarded
throughout his youth left him disillusioned. He could see only the negative
aspects of the world.
- One night, disturbed by the way a drunkard was treating a beggar he struck
out to the relief of the beggar. One of the few times he had ever been
respected. This lead him to the belief that confrontation could lead to
changes for the better.
Dreams
Added Wed Jun 27 16:51:59 2018 at level 28:
Dense fog surrounds you, obscuring all sight in a fine haze of vapor.
Shimmering coils of light stretch out from the mist, enwreathing your ehtereal form.
Dull ringing fills your ears, the faint pulsing within your chest stirring sensations
of a deep familiarity. Every fiber of your being fastens tautly, tendrils of bubbling
flesh solidifies your essence, yet your vision drifts away. From on high you now see
the body of a young man, the many-hued lights surrounding him embrace him against the
fog. Along the borders of the clearing innumerable faces cast their gaze upon the bare
form of the youth, the expression of their countenances ranging greatly, from gentle
consideration to stark condemnation. The vile sight of the harsher faces stare into
him, though never making contact a slight swell rises from his chest, bursting garrishly
in a splash of effervescent red fluid glowing dimly as it wavers in the darkness. The
fluid draining from this gaping pore creeps along the fringe of his being and the coils
shudder as it intertwines and the light surrounding him shines brilliantly. The cruel
eyes that once damned him evaporate into the mists, the maw of his shattered ribs
compressing tightly, closing as if never there. As the mists withdraw the source of the
lights are revealed among the compassionate souls who stood watch over him. You soon
recognize them, and they are known to you.
Snapping to conciousness to jolt from your bedding in a start, within the mire between
hyper-alert and surreal confusion. As you venture toward the nearby brook and wash your
face in its waters you are struck with a revelation as the dream floods back into your
mind, you recall clearly the face of the young man laid still in the fog, it was you.
Part 2------
And their interpretations
As I peered into the depths of my unwoken mind I saw strange visions beyond even the
unfettered machinations of a halfling midway through a pipe trip. A vision of pain,
of terror, but also of warmth and cammaraderie. The shroud of light that engulfed me,
holding fast against the tears and torments of lifes cruelty found its way through
the people I have met in my time since venturing out from the depths of my humble
hovel in the cesspool below. My own light joined with it and in that union I found
comfort, purpose. Even the lights of those reluctant to understand my path burrowed
orifice inflicted unto myself is a bond created between even the most disparate
actors, all woven together by the common thread of bloodshed. From where does this
light come? That is the question I find myself asking. What drives us too the paths
we follow and the actions we take, compelling a drow to save a child, or a rat to
forsake his natural instinct. Urges to transgress come as they may, yet I have fought
(Continued in next chapter)
Dreams (Continued)
Added Wed Jun 27 16:53:48 2018 at level 28:
The ants of the Imperial colony have taken to calling me squire, unaware of my tenative
sovereignty, but I have come to like it. The squires and scribes I have encountered
have filled me with a peace I once thought dwelt only in the depths of sleep.
Perhaps I will find an answer there.
Some insights into Rederic
Added Wed Jun 27 16:56:48 2018 at level 28:
He is -
- Distrusting of most, even those he considers ally.
- Not above trickery and deception if necessary to achieve a worthy goal.
- Has an intense paranoia of law and its enforcers, believing mortal law
inherently corrupt
- Believes evil is inherent in all creatures and that its usurptation is
the defining characteristic of good.
- Cynical to a fault.
- Not evenheaded.
Current Goals -
- Become a squire
- Discern the nature of good, its source, and its prevelance in a world that
- Kill more (Sentient or otherwise) vermin.
PK Wins
Jun 20, 2018|Lv 18|Outskirts of Galadon|Elixstro vs 1: [18] Rederic (100%, stab)
Jun 22, 2018|Lv 20|Balator|Illiali vs 1: [20] Rederic (100%, cleave)
Jun 24, 2018|Lv 25|Moudrilar's Monastery|Xaricnal vs 1: [25] Rederic (100%, slice)
Jun 26, 2018|Lv 28|Seantryn Modan|Jielah vs 1: [28] Rederic (100%, chop)
Jul 4, 2018 |Lv 41|The Battlefield|Oggev vs 1: [41] Rederic (100%, brutal attack)
Jul 4, 2018 |Lv 41|Outside Hamsah Mu'tazz|Illiali vs 1: [41] Rederic (100%, parting blow)
Jul 4, 2018 |Lv 41|Outskirts of Galadon|Lidi vs 3: [41] Rederic (0%), [51] Drissa (100%, parting blow), [51] Nodeka (0%)
Jul 6, 2018 |Lv 41|Fortress of Light|Szprin vs 1: [41] Rederic (100%, parting blow)