• A New Career

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    December 2, 2014 /  Uncategorized

    I remembered what Remi had taught me, when I was inventing her.

    It doesn’t matter how much they look at you, if they only see what they expect to when they do. It is a better way to hide, because they never wonder why they haven’t seen you.

    Kyla would never go unnoticed. That could be left to Aelisra beneath her skin. No, Kyla was a warrior, gruff and business-like. She could live her training without raising any eyebrows.

    I thought she might be a Knight, but I couldn’t. I could never do what I would have to do to be believed as a Knight. What she would believe would not matter, but it would not stop what she would have to do, the mages she would have to kill, for doing nothing more than living.

    It would be the Reeves instead.

  • Brazen

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    December 2, 2014 /  Uncategorized

    Kyla Wendsbridge.

    I had liked the name when I first read that Kyla meant either Strait of Water or Beautiful, back so long ago, reading books when I was just an apprentice in Margaride’s store. I didn’t ever think I would use it, but I had filed it away in my mind anyway. I am a water mage.

    Wendsbridge was different. It was Wind’s Bride, before I disguised it. The few letters changed the meaning to everyone else, but I knew still.

    Strait of Water the Wind’s Bride. I took a perverse pleasure in proclaiming it to everyone and they didn’t have a clue.

    It was brave, brazen. But then, Kyla was brazen like Aelisra never was. And I needed her to be.

  • Log: Romana’s Death

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    February 1, 2013 /  Uncategorized

    Thank you to Romana for a great scene.  Here is a highly edited log.  Thinks were removed from it, at Romana’s request.   Some identifying strings were removed.  And lots of repetitive stuff was pared down to one or two strings.

     

     

    You leave east.

    The Private Cellula [Relatively Cool]

    This chamber, a sacred room of peace, graces every Lithmorran church with a small inviolate sanctuary in which words are witnessed by the Lord of the Springs.  The smooth stone walls gleam with polish, a recessed niche in the northern wall hovers just above the height of a polished, heavy oaken table.  To either side of the table, a well-cushioned chair squats, their crimson and white upholstering matching the drape of curtains that cover the eastern wall completely.

    (The scent of Farin-derived incense fills the room from a small censer at the end of the table. )

    [ Exits: west ]      A pair of well-cushioned chairs with crimson and white upholstery flank the table. (center)

    Romana von Mestan sits here at the confession table, a thin ceremonial cloth draped over her hands. [App: 2] You have arrived.

    A person wearing a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather steps in the door a bit uncertainly, taking in a slow breath.  “Confession?”  she asks quietly, voice obviously that of a woman.

    Romana von Mestan glances briefly at the door at the sound of movement and the shifting of shadows from around it due to the new arrival. “You’re here for confession? Come in, Madame, and close the door to seal the session between the two of us,” her words come, a touch distracted as she finishes the passage from the book that she was reading and sets it aside. The book is titled, ‘Jaren and the Vandagan Doctrine’.

    A person wearing a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather gives a slow bit of a nod, taking a slow breath in, and a hand reaches up and out of the cloak over towards the door, moving shakily as it nudges it closed.  She hovers near the door still, asking, “Do you know who I am?”

    You close the western door.

    Romana von Mestan ‘s attention focuses more fully on a person wearing a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather now, taking her in with sharp eyes and clearly trying to pierce the shadow of the hood. “I can’t say that I do, Madame. Mm, in any case- if you prefer to stay as you are, I shall not protest it. We are in the eyes of the Lord of the Springs- he sees all so that I do not need do so.” A smile follows, but not one that touches her eyes. Despite that her words are soothing, “Be at ease, there is nothing to fear here.”

    “Oh… I don’t know about that,” a person wearing a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather giggles nervously.  “I’m not afraid though.  This is where I want to be.  I’m ready.  Do you know what I want to confess?”  Her hands have retreated within the cloak again.

    Romana von Mestan ‘s return smile is a long-suffering one, “Alas, Madame, I do not- I can read faces reasonably, but the reading of minds is a dark art. Come- take a seat, and unburden your soul,” she offers with a gesture that lightly disturbs the ceremonial cloth bound over her right wrist to represent the sealed nature of the confessional chamber.

    A person wearing a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather continues to linger near the doorway, ignoring Romana von Mestan’s suggestion to take a seat.  The tiny bit of light shining off of her shadowed eyes disappears briefly as her eyes seem to close, intaking a slow breath.  She hesitates for a moment.

    You carefully consider the balance of Balathumel and Lunare in your mind.

    You spread your arms outward, parallel to the ground, with fingers extended.

    You roll your fingers into a fist, and bring your hands together in front of you.

    Carefully, feeling the essence of the magics course within you, you lower your hands to your sides.

    A globe of pure black flares into existence around the room.

    Silently, the globe fades away, until it is barely visible.

    “My name… is Aelisra Milbry,” a person wearing a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather whispers to Romana von Mestan, voice growing in strength as she continues.  “And I am a mage.  An archmage.”

    You wedge a common Lithmorran eating knife with a scant wooden handle into the western door.

    Romana von Mestan’s rather bored and detached veneer snaps away the instant the magic is shown and she pulls away, shaking hands reaching for an ornamental (and not particularly well-used) set of prayer beads. Naturally, they snap as she pulls them from her belt, little beads scattering everywhere- but the core of it, and the holy symbol at the center of it, she clutches, “Keep away from me- do you realise that you are in the heart of the church?” Then, the name sinks in, “Milbry… LeBou,” she murmurs.

    “Yes, yes, I know where I am,” a person wearing a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather hisses at Romana von Mestan. “Don’t you want to hear my confession?”  she mocks.  “Even worse than a mage, I am an unrepentant mage.  It’s very bad, you know.”

    Romana von Mestan is silently whispering a prayer unto the Lord of the Springs, or perhaps any god or saint, upstairs or below that is prepared to listen, and still clutching onto the symbol of Saint Bacca. Saint Bacca the generous, the builder, the selfless- in the hands of one who is anything but. “You don’t need to confess when you’re already damned,” she manages to say, shifting away, “Can we not… no… no, there will be no coming to an agreement.” With a laboured sigh, she says, “Tell me then… confess. I’m not going anywhere, not through that,” she eyes the magical effect lingering over the door

    “No, no, you’re not.  There will be no agreements.  There will be no leaving,” a person wearing a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather rages at Romana von Mestan, hands emerging from beneath the cloak, balled as fists.  “You have already proved you can’t be trusted when you murdered my betrothed.  And not just that.  You gave him a day to pray and then you took even that away.  His last day!”  Her breathing is heavy and the hate rolling off of her practically palpable.  “Do you want your day to pray?  I asked you, when I killed Deviah Dominus, what would you pray for?”

    The western door rattles from the other side as someone tries to open it.

    The western door rattles from the other side as someone tries to open it.

    Romana von Mestan ‘s lips twitch, her resolve cracking a bit at the mention of Deviah. “I wondered who that was- there were so many. But your name.. it was sitting there, in the back of my mind. You know my first thought? About Deviah? I was jealous that I didn’t get to him first. I didn’t pray, if you must know. I haven’t prayed for… years upon years. The church is power, not faith. Power… but all power ends up here, in a dark room at the end of a knife…” Her breath comes short, and her eyes snap towards the door- she looks like she’s about to yell.

    The mage ignores the rattling of the door, glaring daggers over at Romana von Mestan, and she hisses tauntingly, “And who has the power now?  Who is coming out of this alive?”  At the intensity of the stare, frost begins forming over Romana von Mestan’s skin about her neck, twisting around it.  “Here you are, powerless, and at my mercy.  I am glad you realise everything you are devoted to is hollow.  That you won’t have anywhere to turn.  This is the story you wrote.  I’m just filling in the ending.” [Water Attack]

    You hit Romana von Mestan’s head!

    Romana von Mestan looks lightly wounded.

    You get a brushed silver ring, inscribed with, ‘Of My Love Be Sure’ from a sash.

    Romana von Mestan Romana von Mestan reels back as the first strike hits her, pulling away rather than attempting to fight for her life. “You know why I killed him?” she demands, adding a red rag to the bull, “Because he thought I couldn’t. Because he thought the king would protect him- he was an example. An example of the power of the church.” Her hand touches the side of her head, already a touch woozy. [Defense]

    NEW COMBAT ROUND! You are still engaged in combat.

    The sounds of loud clattering echoes from the direction of the private cellula. It sounds like something rough or physical is going down in there. [Player (RPYell)]

    The western door rattles from the other side as someone bashes into it.

    The western door rattles from the other side as someone bashes into it.

    The mage sticks her hand into something within her cloak, pulling out something and fingering it with her thumb.  She continues to stare intently over, the frost thickening and cutting icily into Romana von Mestan’s neck.  She roars in response at her words, “You deserve this!  You will deserve every last ounce of pain!” [Water Attack]

    You hit Romana von Mestan’s head!

    Romana von Mestan appears to be hurt.

    Romana von Mestan clambers up to her feet, even as she staggers some more from the frost wrapping at her throat- clearly it is impacting her breathing as well as her ability to speak. Instead, she thuds heavily into the door, fingers scrabbling for the wedged  knife.

    NEW COMBAT ROUND! You are still engaged in combat.

    You loose your mace from your belt.

    To the west a man yells, “Who is in there, We can’t make entry, the door is tainted with a form of magery!”

    You yell, “This is what you wanted me to be!  Are you -happy-!?  This is what you made!  This is your fault!”

    Romana von Mestan ‘s hands can’t seem to properly grip the knife, and she soon turns back towards a person wearing a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather, hands clasping together as she looks up- unable to speak, but imploring with her eyes. Those eyes, they say ‘Please don’t.’ She’s not praying to the Lord of the Springs- no, she’s praying to her assailant for mercy.

    NEW COMBAT ROUND! You are still engaged in combat.

    The western door rattles from the other side as someone tries to open it.

    The sound of a single heavy thud can be heard hitting the inside of the cellula door and pressure applies to it briefly before the weight against it fades once more. [Player (RPYell)]

    The western door rattles from the other side as someone tries to open it.

    [Action: Romana von Mestan is clearly wounded where she kneels on the floor- her position that of prayer.]

    The western door rattles from the other side as someone bashes into it.

    The western door rattles from the other side as someone tries to open it.

    The mage summons a spike of ice into Romana von Mestan’s chest, roaring, “-You- didn’t give me any choice!  I’m a mage!  This is what I do!” [Water Attack]

    You hit Romana von Mestan’s body!

    Romana von Mestan has been wounded.

    To the west a man yells, “Look, there’s no escape! As soon as you come out, we’ve got you.”

    Romana von Mestan is thrown back from the ice, impacting with the door once more, enough to break a bone or two from the look and sound of it. “N-none of us-” she gasps through pain and semi-closed throat. “None of us have a choice… this is what it is. I just…” her eyes tear up, “I have loved ones too. Children. Fa-family… please?” She tries to rise again, using the knife behind her for leverage.

    NEW COMBAT ROUND! You are still engaged in combat.

    Whatever is hitting against the door just did so again, with quite some force behind it. [Player (RPYell)]

    The mage drives another spike of ice into Romana von Mestan, roaring, “I don’t have loved ones!  You killed them!  Murdered them!  My Remi!  My baby!  That was -your fault-!” [Water Attack]

    You hit Romana von Mestan’s body!

    Romana von Mestan looks badly injured.

    The western door rattles from the other side as someone tries to open it.

    There’s bashing on the door, and a hole is begining to make its way through the wood.

    Romana von Mestan shudders as the spike of ice punctures through her skin and under her ribcage. She tries to speak, but ends in burbling blood. Perhaps, what she said was… “Sorry”?

    NEW COMBAT ROUND! You are still engaged in combat.

    The mage summons another spike of ice, driving it deep into Romana von Mestan’s body.  “The Lord of the Springs is not listening to you!  He doesn’t -care- how good of a servant you’ve been!” [Water Attack]

    You hit Romana von Mestan’s body!

    Romana von Mestan looks pretty mangled.

    Romana von Mestan tries to speak again, but just ends in putting her head back against the door, blood pouring liberally from between her lips, through her nostrils- and would be coming through the spike wounds too, if they weren’t holding it in place like stoppers.

    NEW COMBAT ROUND! You are still engaged in combat.

    The mage reaches to grab Romana von Mestan’s neck with ice streaming off of her hand, hissing in an angry whisper, “Did you know the day you killed him was the day before our wedding?  The banns were posted!  You didn’t take them down before you murdered him!” [Water Attack]

    You hit Romana von Mestan’s head!

    Romana von Mestan appears to be crippled from her injuries.

    Romana von Mestan finds her face lifted as a person wearing a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather grabs her by the throat, eyes unfocused- but clearly attempting to lock on to a person wearing a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather’s face. Her lips continue to shift slightly as if trying to get her thoughts out into the open.

    NEW COMBAT ROUND! You are still engaged in combat.

    The mage clutches Romana von Mestan’s neck more tightly with her icy hand, frost trailing off from her fingers and spreading over the bare skin, across her face, into her scalp, down beneath her robes. “And it was murder.  You admitted it.  You killed him to prove a point!  To show that you arien -could-!” [Water Attack]

    You hit Romana von Mestan’s head!

    Romana von Mestan is impaired by her injuries.

    Romana von Mestan ‘s teeth chatter as her already pale skin pales further with the encroaching ice and cold. Her own shallow breaths frost as they come from her lips- whatever was causing the blood to flow seems to have frozen now.

    NEW COMBAT ROUND! You are still engaged in combat.

    The mage roars as Romana von Mestan thinks, falling down on top of her and pounding at her with hands wrapped in ice and water.  “You do not murder people for being -arrogant-!  You stole my love from me!” [Water Attack]

    You hit Romana von Mestan’s body!

    Romana von Mestan is incapacitated and will slowly die, if not aided.

    Romana von Mestan is seriously impaired by her injuries.

    To the west a man yells, “Hey, Rube?”

    With one smooth, cruel strike, you end Romana’s life.

    The energy field pulses brightly, and someone is thrown back from it on the hazy, other side of the portal.

    A person wearing a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather stands up and brushes blood off of herself.

    You begin to evoke the powers of the moons to prepare a spell.

    You have successfully balanced the lunar magics!

    You visualize your victim and grip his chest in your hands!

    Chopping noises come from the entrance hall of the Cathedral. [Player (RPYell)] (To the west)

    [She positions the corpse and carves in the table.]

    The Private Cellula [Relatively Cool]   This chamber, a sacred room of peace, graces every Lithmorran church with a small inviolate sanctuary in which words are witnessed by the Lord of the Springs.  The smooth stone walls gleam with polish, a recessed niche in the northern wall hovers just above the height of a polished, heavy oaken table.  To either side of the table, a well-cushioned chair squats, their crimson and white upholstering matching the drape of curtains that cover the eastern wall completely.

    (The scent of Farin-derived incense fills the room from a small censer at the end of the table.

    Scattered beads as if from a broken set of prayer beads litter the floor.

    A corpse has been set up in a mocking prayerful position, bloody and bearing frostbitten wounds to her neck and body.  Blood spills over the floor.  Etched into the table are the words “One day to pray?”  )    A field of glowing energy makes the exits look hazy.

    [ Exits: west ]      The corpse of a Vandagan woman is positioned in prayer at the table, bearing frostbitten wounds.  The positioning seems to have been completed post mortem. (western edge)      A pair of well-cushioned chairs with crimson and white upholstery flank the table. (center)

    [She then disappears.]

  • The List

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    January 30, 2013 /  Uncategorized

    Two down.

  • OOC: An End

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    September 8, 2012 /  Uncategorized

    And that brings us up to current with Aelisra’s life.  It’s not over, but everything else hasn’t happened yet or I’m leaving it for the RP to expose as she goes on.  Perhaps I’ll write more eventually, but for now, this is her story.  I hope you have all enjoyed the glimpse inside her slightly skewed mind.

    If you come upon this here later, I suggest starting at the beginning, as it is the sort of story that is about the change from the beginning to the end, not the end itself.

  • The List

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    September 7, 2012 /  Uncategorized

    One down.

  • Dreams

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    September 6, 2012 /  Uncategorized

    When I let my mind wander, when I don’t make myself remember what’s happened, I don’t imagine the power rushing through me or doing terrible things.

    Instead, it is Remi and I together, and our baby, in a little cottage by the sea.  Perhaps I have a bookshop of my own, but sometimes we talk of another baby.

    But I always remember.  Sooner or later I remember.

    They are all dead.  They killed my Remi and they killed our child, as good as it.  They’ve killed me too, everything I liked about myself.

    This isn’t what I wanted to be.

    But this is what they have made me.  This is what the Order wants me to be. It is all I have left, and I will just have to make certain that they regret it.

  • His Grave

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    September 6, 2012 /  Uncategorized

    I saved him, first, in death where I couldn’t in life.  I took him to somewhere he could be at peace.

    I hated to see him there, in the graveyard at the church, the flower I had left long since crumbled on top of him.  That was the Order’s place and he was not theirs.  They had hated him without even knowing him.  I couldn’t leave him there.

    And so I went in the dark of the night.  They wouldn’t have seen my footsteps even if there had been anyone to see them.  I took every precaution.

    There was only bones left, burnt bones, but I would have known they were his even if the grave had not been marked.  I gathered them up, every one, and I took them away with me.

    I felt him with me, and I wondered, for a moment, if I were a stronger fire mage, if I could put him back together, breathe life back into him.  But I am not, and I know enough of undeath to know that animated bones are not the man I loved.  He would always be with me now, but he would not breathe again.

    I buried him again, in a place that would be ours, this time, not the Order’s.  He had never been there in life, but he would have liked it, I think.

    And then Lithmore did not see me for three days while I finally, at long last, cried over his grave.

  • A New Name

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    September 5, 2012 /  Uncategorized

    The first time I heard myself called by my new name, I forced myself not to wince.  The first time I called attention to myself and my act, like he had done, rather than trying to go unnoticed, I nearly forgot to breathe.

    But I did breathe.  I remembered my purpose and I didn’t let my will fade.

    And they all believed me.

  • Reflections

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    September 4, 2012 /  Uncategorized

    I looked into the mirror and I didn’t recognize myself.

    That had been the plan.

    Aelisra was a wanted woman, ever since the day he died, for never doing anything more than trying to save him.  But I would do more now, and being wanted would get in the way.

    It was better that they wouldn’t know me.  That this is what they would see when they looked at me.

    But looking at that strange face that was looking back at me, it was the first time I had thought to be frightened, since I knew he was dead.  I couldn’t believe how much I had changed, and I couldn’t believe they wouldn’t see straight through it.

    How would I ever pull this off?

    With the start of worried tears tingling at my eyes, I closed them and I took a breath.  Another.  And another.

    I remembered why I was doing this, and why I had to be strong.  It wouldn’t be easy, but Remi had done it.  When he became Remi instead of just Xine.  He had reinvented himself, and he was a master.  Even when they had killed him, they hadn’t known who they had.

    I could do no less for him now.

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