PlaneShift
Fan Area => Roleplaying (Communitive Storywriting) => Topic started by: Nightflyer0ne on December 01, 2005, 05:58:14 am
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Okay, this is my first attempt at writing a story. It\'s almost entirely finished, except for the last section, so I decided to post it now before I lost my nerve. Be nice, I bruise easily :P
The first part came to me as I was working on my character, before I\'d even gotten my game set up and working. But it never would have seen the light of day except for what happened to her today at the tavern. So, Lolitra, this story is for you, and your dear departed sister :D Tried to remember what exactly was said, but it\'s amazing how fast those things fade.
The Gift of a Sword
Dharah Tisunai sat quietly on the ledge, her sword balanced on her knees, looking out over the streets of Hydlaa. Only a few days ago, this would have been a spot she?d shun, afraid of falling over the edge. But then, a few days ago she wouldn?t have had a sword....
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Dharah paused at the mouth of the alleyway and pulled her blanket more tightly around her body, The volumnuous piece of cloth was the first thing she?d purchased with her meager store of coins after she?d reached the dry lands. Dry -- ye gods! She?d never been so dry in her life! Dharah kept expecting her hair to turn brittle and snap off, like dried seaweed. She blinked constantly, trying to keep the membranes of her eyes moist. It hadn?t been this bad, closer to the lake where she?d grown up, but Hydlaa was just too high in her opinion. The humidity was almost non-existant.
Dharah thought back to the conversation she?d had with another Nolthrir she?d encountered on her travels. ?You get used to it,? he?d reassured her, ?Your eyes and lungs adjust to the change in humidity. Oil is the key, keeps your skin moist, prevents the membranes from cracking.?
She glanced down at one delicately-webbed hand, at the faint cracks already beginning to form, at the slightly ashen tone to her skin from dried and dead skin cells. And yet, it would have to wait. Food and shelter took precedence over matters of comfort.
She shifted back and forth uneasily, her bare feet bruised by the cobbles beneath. She needed to buy some of those foot coverings the locals preferred, if she was going to live here. Boots, she reminded herself, they?re called boots. The list of things she needed seemed to grow by the minute, but her purse seemed to shrink even faster. It had all seemed so simple before she left. She?d travel to Hydlaa, learn a skill of some sort (always left conveniently vague in her fantasies), and establish herself as a prosperous whatever-she?d-become, who never had to grow leather-leaf kelp for a living or share quarters with 16 other family members.
It was the large family that had enabled her to act on that dream, too. No one really wanted her to leave, even with all the fights she?d been having with her parents as her discontent had grown, but one less mouth to feed was a welcome thing. Her family had pooled what few trias they could spare and wished her luck. It wasn?t much, but to Dharah it had seemed a small fortune. She?d turned the triangular coins over and over in her hands, savoring what they meant. Freedom.
She laughed bitterly at the memory now. Most of that simple store had been spent before she?d even reached Hydlaa. It hadn?t seemed that worrisome at the time--surely she?d earn more once she reached her goal and began doing?whatever it was she would end up doing--but now, faced with the realities of actually having to live here in this city, with no real idea where to go next, the lack of trias was terrifying.
She shivered again as she surveyed the plaza before her, trying to plan. She wasn?t actually cold, not physically. The Lake was far colder than this, so far from the Azure Sun, and she hadn?t needed more than the thigh-length, sleeveless tunic-dress she wore. The leather-leaf kelp her people grew for clothing was sturdy and flexible, and perfectly suited to the life she?d led underwater. But now, she found the constant touch of air on her skin to be unnerving, making her feel exposed and vulnerable. Drylander clothes, she thought, This blanket isn?t going to cut it. Boots, oil for my skin and hair, food, a place to stay, a way to earn money? The list seemed to grow simply by being thought about. She could feel panic welling up inside of her, and sat down abruptly. Several passers-by looked askance at the young Nolthrir, but she ignored them, dropping her head between her knees and trying to calm herself.
The images in her mind shimmered and undulated in comforting ways--the cool, silken touch of water on her skin, the light filtering down through the liquid, the shadowy entrance to her secret hideaway, a coral grotto ablaze with color and full of unusual shapes and pleasant groupings. Her own little pleasure-garden--all the more pleasurable for not needing any tending--her oasis from the press of people at home. In her mind, she could hear the music that was the lake itself, shifting, lapping, rising and falling. She was one with the lake. She was the lake?
Dharah drew one last deep breath and raised her head, calmer now. Oh, how she missed the sound of water, though. Even a little fountain would have been welcome, artificial though it may be. When I?m rich?The thought occurred a dozen times a day, or more. When I?m rich, I?ll have a backyard water-garden, with fountains and waterfalls, streams and pools -- and a large pond, big enough to really swim in. She smiled as she planned it all out in her head. A gurgling growl interrupted her--her stomach.
The young elf sighed and put her fantasies aside. They would keep. She climbed to her feet, ignoring the protests of her sore heels, and headed across the flagstones of the large square. There was a tavern this way, she thought, trying to remember conversations overheard between other travelers. She could eat there, maybe even buy a room for the night if the price wasn?t too steep. It would probably be the best place to figure out her next move. Other travelers would know how to make money, or where to find a teacher in a trade. Dharah pursed her lips fretfully. She?d never been good at talking with others, preferring to keep to herself as much as possible. But the other options, starving or giving up and going back home, were less palatable. She brought the image of her grotto once more into her mind, and seized the tavern door-handle with a boldness she didn?t really feel.
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Two days later, Dharah was a lot less optimistic and a lot more frustrated. She?d tried to do some odd-jobs for people, but either she didn?t have the skill to complete the task, or they wanted something that was just not possible for her to do at the moment. The librarian, for example, needed fuel for his lamps brought back from Ojaveda. She would have been glad to take the job, but she?d heard about how dangerous the Ojaveda road was, and she had no way to defend herself.
Other people?s suggestions weren?t much more help. Dharah shuddered and wondered how long it would be until she was desperate enough to actually try to kill a rat with her bare hands. She?d never killed another living creature in her life, and the thought made her sick.
The one good point of her stay in Hydlaa was discovering her pool. A kindly local, Janner, she thought his name had been, had taken pity on the poor dried-out Nolthrir, and showed her a secluded place with a nice-sized wading pool. He?d been right about the place being rarely frequented, and Dharah found she could go there and splash around in it without anyone staring or telling her she couldn?t. It made things so much easier to bear.
But as the week wore on, she found she?d established a fairly useless pattern of drifting back and forth between the blacksmith?s and the tavern. Occasionally she?d try to speak to someone, but mostly, she just drifted. It was obvious to anyone watching that she was on the point of giving up, if she hadn?t already done so.
She stood listlessly near the plaza, watching several locals organizing some sort of tournament, not really paying attention. She?d been spending the morning staring into the tavern fire, but some Enkidukai woman was obviously upset about something, crying to her friends. It had made Dharah fairly uncomfortable, so she?d headed back to the blacksmith?s and the dueling taking place.
Conversation swirled around her as two dwarves began hacking away at each other with swords. Broken bits of sentances caught her ear. ?Celorrim, really?? ??missed the whole thing?? ?..straight through her..? ?..sister?s crying up a storm at the tavern? ?Wouldn?t mind having that one cry on my shoulder!? Laughter greeted the last remark. The words meant nothing to Dharah, and she ignored them. Just then, the one dwarf finished off the other in a spectacularly bloody fashion. Dharah quickly ran around the building to be sick. She hadn?t realized it was a fight to the death, she?d figured they were just playing. Well, crying fenkis beat out bloody death-matches any day, by the young Nolthrir?s standards. She headed back to the tavern.
Dharah slipped quietly into the cool, welcoming dark of the tavern common room. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the tableau hadn?t changed much. There was a beautiful young Enkidukai, surrounded by several of her friends of various races, mostly fellow Enkis, crying as if her heart had broken into a million pieces. Dharah couldn?t help but overhear some of what the woman was saying between sobs.
?...but poor Celloran... so young to lose a mother...,? The Enki?s voice became muffled in her handkerchief and Dharah lost the thread of the conversation for a bit, ?Celorrim was the learned one.. now she is dead..? Suddenly all the pieces fell in to place and Dharah found herself blurting out into the conversation before she?d even thought about it.
?You wouldn?t be talking about the same person they were talking about in the plaza? The one that was skewered?? she trailed off in mortification as she thought about how she sounded, watching the grief deepen on the pretty face before her, ?I don?t mean to be insensitive? she added lamely, blushing a dark green.
?You were not to know,? the Enkidukai replied graciously, ?She was my sister?? Dharah?s eyes widened in shock and dismay.
?Oh, I?m sorry. I can?t even imagine losing one of my siblings!? She found herself deeply moved by the sadness and grief in the feline eyes that stared back at her, ?I don?t have much, and I don?t know Hydlaa well, but if there?s something I can do???
?If you see my niece Celloran playing, would you watch out for her??
?I will,? Dharah responded immediately. The Enki seemed to take some comfort in the simple response.
\"Thank you, I am endebted.\"
?It\'s not much, I doubt I\'d be much help...,? Dharah protested
?Little is better than none,\" the other responded, then paused, looking her up and down. ?Do you have a sword?? she asked kindly.
?I have nothing, lady? was the honest reply.
The beautiful woman rose and unbuckled her sword belt. ?I am grateful to you... please accept this in appreciation to your promise. I know it is not much, but...?
The lady pressed the sword into the shocked Nolthrir?s hands. Dharah had no choice but to take the weapon, and thanked her benefactor, awed by the gravity and sorrow darkening the Enki?s eyes.
\"I thank you, Lady. I will do my best.\"
With shaking hands she carefully belted the sword around her waist. It made her feel off-balance and awkward, but she was grimly determined to do justice to her gift and the responsibility that went with it. She looked up, but the lady was gone. Dharah hadn?t even gotten her name.
[edited to better reflect the original conversation--Thanks Jjairr!]
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Now what? Dharah thought to herself. The novelty of her newly-acquired arsenal had worn off after a few minutes, and she?d realized that she was still in the same situation as before. She had a sword, true, but she couldn?t even draw it without cutting herself, let alone use it. She needed training, which meant she needed trias to pay for it. Then there was the question of her promise. What exactly had she promised to the sword?s previous owner? To look out for the Enki?s niece, if she ever happened upon her? That seemed fairly vague, especially considering how seriously the lady had taken her promise to do so. Dharah touched the sword on her hip once more. How was she even going to know? There had been a name?celery? No, Celloran, that was it. But in a city this size?.
Dharah shook her head impatiently. It could wait. Without training, she wouldn?t do anyone any good, young motherless Enkis or not. She put the problem out of her mind for the moment, and went back to the crisis at hand. Would killing rats be any more palatable with a sword? A vivid recollection of a dwarf being cut down in cold blood intruded on her thoughts. She shuddered. It would have to be something else.
Then it came to her--the librarian?s task! She could go to Ojaveda for the lamp fuel! Bandits went after soft targets, ones that couldn?t defend themselves, right? With a sword at her side, they?d be sure to leave her alone. She wouldn?t even need to draw it and show how little she knew. It was perfect! It never occurred to the elf that the very way she held herself betrayed her lack of skill, her unfamiliarity with the weapon at her side. Without another thought, she set her steps towards the North Gate.
The guard at the gate eyed her askance when she approached him, but she settled her blanket around her shoulders confidently, and gave him a smile.
?Could you tell me the way to Ojaveda?? she inquired.
?The Enki city? Simple enough, I guess, just follow this road and take the left at the fork,? he replied. He opened his mouth again, as if to say more, but with a quick ?Thank you? Dharah was out the gate and headed for the woods.
She enjoyed the stroll, the beauty of the forest around her, so different from the dusty, crowded city. Small animals made rustling sounds in the underbrush as birds chirped in the canopy overhead. A louder rustling to one side caught her attention and she turned to see what animal had made it.
It wasn?t an animal. A man stood there, sword drawn, eyeing her. Before she could do more than yelp in alarm, he rushed her. Dharah fumbled for her sword, backpedalling. She stepped on the hem of her blanket and fell backwards. Leaping to her feet as quickly as she could, she tried to pull the blade from the scabbard, but everything was twisted and tangled. She finally got it free in time to divert a killing blow from the rogue. She blocked a few more swings, but it was obvious that she was overmatched. There was no way she?d be able to keep fending him off, let alone land a blow of her own. Deciding that discretion was the better part of staying alive, she turned on her heel and fled towards Hydlaa.
Dharah managed three whole steps before a searing pain stopped her in her tracks. She looked down at the bloody blade sticking out of her chest, but thoughts refused to form. As her sight faded, she felt her body tip forward, headed for the ground. Ow, was all she could think, that hurts.
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Amazing! I love it. \\O/ I\'m hooked already! Can\'t wait for more!
EDIT: And hey, I had the same problem writing my story... (Done, but still untitled - yes, that\'s what it\'s called :P) Remembering the conversations and dialogue, I mean. Brilliant thing, though. PS logs your conversations! ^^
My Computer -> Local disk (C:) -> Program Files -> PlaneShift Crystal Blue -> logs
\'Tis handy. Again, can\'t wait for more!
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Lolitra : oh dear, have I sent you to your death... oh nooo...
[wow fantastic story... keep it coming.
We\'ll definately look out for you ingame as your brief encounter with Lolitra showed you really know how to RP]
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Fear not, Lolitra, it actually turns out for the best....
Thanks for the tip Jjairr, I went back and edited that section so it\'s closer to the original scene, although I did a pretty good job from memory :D
I\'ll hopefully get around to writing down the final part later today, so I don\'t keep you all in too much suspense, lol.
Glad people are enjoying it.