Post by nyx on Jun 22, 2021 8:25:32 GMT
A day of respite, of change.
The Drow of Eilistraee gave refuge to those fleeing from the Spider Queen's wrath. The outskirts of Baldur's Gate were far from safe for those of the Devilkin or Drow-blood-- But it paled in comparison to what awaited in their homelands for them.
Soz was no stranger to Drow nor Devil-- But to the Eilistraee, there was nothing more than guilt and regret. The same house who Soz had hunted down for years, was the very one she'd take refuge in after the Spider Queen's emboldened strikes outside of the Underdark. Under the floorboards of a stone-walled house was now where Soz remained, no longer graced by the awe-inspiring caverns and web-spun hostels of Lolth's own territory. From here, Soz was promised to be smuggled outwards, to live a life amongst her kind on a shore lost to maps.
Nothing from Soz's time in the Hells nor the Underdark had prepared them for the Illithids, however. The journey was lost, and now all that remained was a looming eldritch craft in the sky, and a sword within Soz's hand.
Never once, did Soz expect to fight side-by-side with the Flaming Fists, those of which had killed many of her former allies, and her many of theirs.
Never once, did Soz expect to be saved by the hand of a High Elf, a race hated by her own former allies.
Never once, did Soz expect it all to come to an end so soon.
The bodies of soldiers and peasants alike lined the town streets. Towers crumbled, and streets torn asunder. Fire licked at the heel of every building, it's harsh cracks masking the sounds of the fearful, and the dying. This was their last stand-- A man of the Flaming Fist, an Elven Emissary, a Warrior of Eilistraee, and Soz herself. The brain of each member pounded as an Illithid's eminence blood stained each of their clothes; it's corpse lying dead on the cold floor beneath.
But it mattered not. The reach of the Illithid's ship knew no bounds, neither did it's seeking tendrils-- With each strike by the eldritch tentacle, another of the party flickered into nothing more than dust, only to reappear moments later with their stomach upturned and their senses disoriented, housed in a coffin lining the walls.
A chase by dragons... A warp... Then, darkness.
Now, there was only solitude under a stretching yellow structure, and a large Monolith in the sky as Soz awoke among the softness of earth and foliage.
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Written within the confines of a leather-bound journal, the scrawls of the one known as 'Soz' exist only here. Only the first is written in Soz's home language. Any translators capable of reading elvish might pick up a few pieces of this first piece, however only those who know the language of the Drow will know it's clear meaning.
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CROW FEATHER
QUENAR TANGI, BLYNAR CYYKVAL, UST DRASV
"Crow". Natha b'vecko klez, lorith mzild phindar taga Usstan. Natha tezzil attraxi vlorithen, henotep dahlharsaph wun arlathil. Il orn'la'naut dro'xun natha tangi wun l'Har'oloth... Xal nindol zhah whol l'alurl il zhah'na d'ussta ehmtu tresk'ri.
EIGHTEENTH DAY, SEVENTH CYCLE, FIRST YEAR
Heard they were gone after this 'assault' on some sort of base. Abandoned the group after a mistake, perhaps to repent for what they had done?
I do not know for sure.
May Eilistraee guide her on her path, regardless of the pain she is told to have caused.
-------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
ENCY EMERS
TWENTY-FIRST DAY, SEVENTH CYCLE, FIRST YEAR.
A 'cowboy' as I have heard some call, this 'Ency' figure sounds as if he was born in the Luraurs.
I will not lie and say I know him nor the lands he comes from, however I will write this in the Queen's own ink that I am indebted to him one way or another.
Eilistraee pushes those of the Underdark to repent from our habitual ways of trustlessness and favor-keeping. As I had once owed the Alin of the Zone before I paid my debt with steel and blood, I pray to the True Queen that I may have the fortune to pay back this debt in manners needless of death.
I will not hold my breath for such luck, however.
May Eilistraee watch over him, for I fear his downfall may source from his compassion.
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LO OF FLORIDA
FIRST DAY, EIGHTH CYCLE, FIRST YEAR.
From my first interaction, this 'Lo' was the first to speak to me on a level equal to my own.
To this, I am grateful.
However, it is not Lo's interactions with myself that lend me my respect to him. Rather, my own observations of those he keeps company. The Squid-kin.
There are no real fathers in the Spider Queen's lands, not to mention those willing to care for the underlings of a race unlike their own. Yet, this spirit prevails against my own presumptions of the outer world, caring for those he is not obliged to care for.
With only passing signs provided to one another over our time of knowing one another, I can in the least say I have learned some things from this irregular being from my observations of him to others.
Perhaps he is a reminder to me, sent from Eilistraee herself.
Perhaps, her message to me is born through him-- To defend those you hold close.
He holds my respect. May Eilistraee watch over him.
-------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
AUROLONIS CRIMSONLOVE
FIRST DAY, EIGHTH CYCLE, FIRST YEAR.
An elf woman from a realm far from my own, Auro was one of the first to embrace me into the culture of this community, regardless of that which diminishes me. And to this, I am humbled.
She is unlike many I have met in my time, however.
Her talk of family, and of loss. It is compelling in it's own fashion. Compassion in the face of hardship, and resilience in the face of loss.
To humble herself to speak such truthful words and soothing advice to myself, is something I am far from used to, but humbled to receive.
I have learned much from Auro of Blood Elves.
And I am indebted for far more than the currency she had lent me so I may know the common tongue.
With how close my time may be coming to it's end, I merely pray I can repay my loose ends before either the tadpole consumes me, or the violence of our peers do.
May Eilistraee guide her family to the Promised Lands, and protect her as she walks these multiple realms.
When her time comes, let the Surface Goddess not forget the noble deeds of this woman to those unworthy of them.
I only hope she has not forgotten her promise to me.
FOURTEENTH DAY, EIGHTH CYCLE, FIRST YEAR
I owe this woman more than I know I can repay.
And this frightens me.
Eilistraee, grant me the fortune to rid myself of these debts--
For I have collected too many, and I fear a death where these are left unpaid.
-------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
KIRK, WARRIOR OF THE MARINES
TENTH DAY, EIGHTH CYCLE, FIRST YEAR
A warrior of some other-realm group called 'The Marines'. Young, but valiant as a fighter.
His death was an awful one. Cut in two by the arms of some eldritch monster of steel. He deserved far better than this, but in the least, it was a warrior's death.
However, the doubt in my head still lingers. He could have chosen, just as every single other person in that room save for Alin and the 'Doctor' to not come to my aid. He could have chosen not to flank the monster and pull it's attention away from me. He could have chosen to step back, and let me be the buffer between him and a machine of death and mutilated flesh.
And yet, he did.
Mother Lolth told us the value of our lives never exceeded the ones were served with, nor served under.
I know her to be a fowl deity, but her words are etched into my brain. I have yet to repent for my sins, to right the many wrongs I've done.
Was I truly worth his sacrifice?
Dark Maiden, watch over this one as he crosses into the your father's perfected after-lands.
He deserves a place by the the Seldarine Father's side more than most.
-------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
Pages of pressed parchment, covered with the scribblings and thoughts of it's owner; both readable and unreadable.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
The Drow of Eilistraee gave refuge to those fleeing from the Spider Queen's wrath. The outskirts of Baldur's Gate were far from safe for those of the Devilkin or Drow-blood-- But it paled in comparison to what awaited in their homelands for them.
Soz was no stranger to Drow nor Devil-- But to the Eilistraee, there was nothing more than guilt and regret. The same house who Soz had hunted down for years, was the very one she'd take refuge in after the Spider Queen's emboldened strikes outside of the Underdark. Under the floorboards of a stone-walled house was now where Soz remained, no longer graced by the awe-inspiring caverns and web-spun hostels of Lolth's own territory. From here, Soz was promised to be smuggled outwards, to live a life amongst her kind on a shore lost to maps.
Nothing from Soz's time in the Hells nor the Underdark had prepared them for the Illithids, however. The journey was lost, and now all that remained was a looming eldritch craft in the sky, and a sword within Soz's hand.
Never once, did Soz expect to fight side-by-side with the Flaming Fists, those of which had killed many of her former allies, and her many of theirs.
Never once, did Soz expect to be saved by the hand of a High Elf, a race hated by her own former allies.
Never once, did Soz expect it all to come to an end so soon.
The bodies of soldiers and peasants alike lined the town streets. Towers crumbled, and streets torn asunder. Fire licked at the heel of every building, it's harsh cracks masking the sounds of the fearful, and the dying. This was their last stand-- A man of the Flaming Fist, an Elven Emissary, a Warrior of Eilistraee, and Soz herself. The brain of each member pounded as an Illithid's eminence blood stained each of their clothes; it's corpse lying dead on the cold floor beneath.
But it mattered not. The reach of the Illithid's ship knew no bounds, neither did it's seeking tendrils-- With each strike by the eldritch tentacle, another of the party flickered into nothing more than dust, only to reappear moments later with their stomach upturned and their senses disoriented, housed in a coffin lining the walls.
A chase by dragons... A warp... Then, darkness.
Now, there was only solitude under a stretching yellow structure, and a large Monolith in the sky as Soz awoke among the softness of earth and foliage.
-------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
Written within the confines of a leather-bound journal, the scrawls of the one known as 'Soz' exist only here. Only the first is written in Soz's home language. Any translators capable of reading elvish might pick up a few pieces of this first piece, however only those who know the language of the Drow will know it's clear meaning.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
CROW FEATHER
QUENAR TANGI, BLYNAR CYYKVAL, UST DRASV
EIGHTEENTH DAY, SEVENTH CYCLE, FIRST YEAR
Heard they were gone after this 'assault' on some sort of base. Abandoned the group after a mistake, perhaps to repent for what they had done?
I do not know for sure.
May Eilistraee guide her on her path, regardless of the pain she is told to have caused.
-------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
ENCY EMERS
TWENTY-FIRST DAY, SEVENTH CYCLE, FIRST YEAR.
A 'cowboy' as I have heard some call, this 'Ency' figure sounds as if he was born in the Luraurs.
I will not lie and say I know him nor the lands he comes from, however I will write this in the Queen's own ink that I am indebted to him one way or another.
Eilistraee pushes those of the Underdark to repent from our habitual ways of trustlessness and favor-keeping. As I had once owed the Alin of the Zone before I paid my debt with steel and blood, I pray to the True Queen that I may have the fortune to pay back this debt in manners needless of death.
I will not hold my breath for such luck, however.
May Eilistraee watch over him, for I fear his downfall may source from his compassion.
-------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
LO OF FLORIDA
FIRST DAY, EIGHTH CYCLE, FIRST YEAR.
From my first interaction, this 'Lo' was the first to speak to me on a level equal to my own.
To this, I am grateful.
However, it is not Lo's interactions with myself that lend me my respect to him. Rather, my own observations of those he keeps company. The Squid-kin.
There are no real fathers in the Spider Queen's lands, not to mention those willing to care for the underlings of a race unlike their own. Yet, this spirit prevails against my own presumptions of the outer world, caring for those he is not obliged to care for.
With only passing signs provided to one another over our time of knowing one another, I can in the least say I have learned some things from this irregular being from my observations of him to others.
Perhaps he is a reminder to me, sent from Eilistraee herself.
Perhaps, her message to me is born through him-- To defend those you hold close.
He holds my respect. May Eilistraee watch over him.
-------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
AUROLONIS CRIMSONLOVE
FIRST DAY, EIGHTH CYCLE, FIRST YEAR.
An elf woman from a realm far from my own, Auro was one of the first to embrace me into the culture of this community, regardless of that which diminishes me. And to this, I am humbled.
She is unlike many I have met in my time, however.
Her talk of family, and of loss. It is compelling in it's own fashion. Compassion in the face of hardship, and resilience in the face of loss.
To humble herself to speak such truthful words and soothing advice to myself, is something I am far from used to, but humbled to receive.
I have learned much from Auro of Blood Elves.
And I am indebted for far more than the currency she had lent me so I may know the common tongue.
With how close my time may be coming to it's end, I merely pray I can repay my loose ends before either the tadpole consumes me, or the violence of our peers do.
May Eilistraee guide her family to the Promised Lands, and protect her as she walks these multiple realms.
When her time comes, let the Surface Goddess not forget the noble deeds of this woman to those unworthy of them.
I only hope she has not forgotten her promise to me.
FOURTEENTH DAY, EIGHTH CYCLE, FIRST YEAR
I owe this woman more than I know I can repay.
And this frightens me.
Eilistraee, grant me the fortune to rid myself of these debts--
For I have collected too many, and I fear a death where these are left unpaid.
-------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
KIRK, WARRIOR OF THE MARINES
TENTH DAY, EIGHTH CYCLE, FIRST YEAR
A warrior of some other-realm group called 'The Marines'. Young, but valiant as a fighter.
His death was an awful one. Cut in two by the arms of some eldritch monster of steel. He deserved far better than this, but in the least, it was a warrior's death.
However, the doubt in my head still lingers. He could have chosen, just as every single other person in that room save for Alin and the 'Doctor' to not come to my aid. He could have chosen not to flank the monster and pull it's attention away from me. He could have chosen to step back, and let me be the buffer between him and a machine of death and mutilated flesh.
And yet, he did.
Mother Lolth told us the value of our lives never exceeded the ones were served with, nor served under.
I know her to be a fowl deity, but her words are etched into my brain. I have yet to repent for my sins, to right the many wrongs I've done.
Was I truly worth his sacrifice?
Dark Maiden, watch over this one as he crosses into the your father's perfected after-lands.
He deserves a place by the the Seldarine Father's side more than most.
-------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
Pages of pressed parchment, covered with the scribblings and thoughts of it's owner; both readable and unreadable.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------