Category: Cultural

#Lore24 – Entry #148 – Muckenmyre Month #27 – Entertainment and Invitations

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

The first of the songs I would hear that night came to an end with a round of applause and shouts for more as we descended to the common room.  As we descended the stairs, I thought of the sound of their speech, and, though I hadn’t thought much of it during my earlier distress, realized that their way of speaking was much different from what I had been taught.  They spoke with odd inflections, saying familiar words with different stresses on different syllables, generally spoke faster and almost with a slurring to the words, not to mention the many words I did not recognize and had to puzzle out from the context of the song.  As their next song began, I would have to force myself to pay close attention to the words, which were just as familiar as they were strange.

I saw a few kerryn in the gathered crowd, dressed more like the people of Ryanathyr, dining with humans or dwarves or elves, and upon the stage in the corner of the room were the kerryn nomads, in their brightly colored sashes and ribbons, two men, three women.  We had spotted Jessiryn and Augra in the opposite corner, and at his motion, came to their table as the next song began.  He knew of my earlier distress, and I assured him that I was more or less back to normal and would explain myself later. 

The nomad men and one of the women started playing their instruments, one a flute, one a lute, and the third a small hand drum, the second woman standing aside and humming along with the tune as the song began, the last beginning to sway slowly along with the music, ringing the small cymbals upon her fingers.  After a slow buildup, the music sped up, the pace quickening as the singer’s voice strengthened and she sang, the dancer beginning to sway her body and show off her curves, shaking her hips and backside to the delight of the men in the crowd.  Her dances were not entirely unfamiliar, and though I had some familiarity with the nature of the dance, the feel of the performance was entirely different.  There was a different kind of passion at work behind their song and dance, a true love of the art, the desire to share their expression with the crowd. 

As I watched, I began to listen more closely to the lyrics of the song, to process the inflections, tones, and subtle shifts in the way they spoke, the different way they phrased certain things to a dd a lyrical quality to the words that had never been part of the corruption of the language taught to me by the Stellae Illustris.  The song told a whimsical story, of a traveler going from one town to another, and their many amorous activities along the way and the troubles that followed.  During the especially bawdy parts, which were honestly rather tame compared to what I had experienced as a pleasure slave in my homeland, the dancer moved amongst the crowd, shedding her clothes more and more as she went until she was down to a skimpy, diaphanous outfit that barely hid anything.

The song shifted seamlessly into another, this one at an even faster pace and without words, which prompted the dancer to take to the bar and to the tables, effortlessly leaping upon them, gyrating and twirling about, her silks swirling around her, earning cheers for her acrobatic and erotic display.  She made sure to visit each table, leaping between them, landing without disturbing the food and drink that lay atop them. 

She visited our table last, dipping low toward me, and I heard her whisper “Seek us out after our performance, sister,” before she went twirling off to the stage once again as the song came to an end.  Though I felt some amount of apprehension at the invitation, I likely would have done so regardless, though I was curious as to why she had invited me to join them.  There was another, slower song following, then the singer took a break while the band played a jovial tune, and the dancer went amongst the crowd, collecting her discarded sashes along with any coin that was offered for their services. 

My spirits had undoubtedly lifted by the time the kerryn had finished up for the evening, much of the crowd making their way out of the tavern at the late hour.  As the entertainers took to their own table and finally sat to enjoy some food and drink of their own, I noticed that one more seat had been brought to their table and took it as confirmation of their invitation.  I excused myself from my companions, Satella patting my arm encouragingly, and came to their table bowing in greeting, and speaking our language openly for the first time, though after hearing their songs, I felt as if I spoke it as a child speaking her first words.  They were amused my formality as I introduced myself, and much less formally introduced themselves in return.  The dancer was named Shani, the singer Kiri, the lutist Kinjo, the flutist Yukiyo, and the drummer Takeji. 

Takeji admitted that he had witnessed me on the street earlier, saw my distress and sudden rush into the tavern.  As he spoke, I asked him to slow down, for I had trouble following his speech, and explained to him that my knowledge of the language was only gained recently.  He approached the subject gently but had surmised that I was originally from the Empire, perhaps an escaped slave.  The truth was hardly as simple as that, but I explained the short version of what had brought me to Ryanathyr, noting how my dialect and pronunciations differed from theirs, even when they slowed their speech and shifted their words.  They knew of a handful of others who had escaped from their slavery, not amongst their own clan, but encountered during their travels, said that they had stood out much like I did by their very formal ways of dealing with others. 

We spoke for some time, not of the Empire, but of their journeys across the land, of the cities and towns that lay beyond Ryanathyr.  There were many kerryn nomads clans as I would learn, but many more who lived amongst the other races in the cities and towns, and even cities and regions that they called their own, that they ruled for themselves.  I could hardly believe what they told me to be true, but my inquisitor’s honed perception told me they spoke no words that were not true, or at least, that they believed untrue. 

Before any of us knew it, midnight had come and gone, and our fatigue had grown considerably.  Takeji extended an invitation for me to visit their caravan the following day, to speak to their clan elder if I wished to know more about them or their histories.  I was undeniably curious to know more, and accepted, seeing them out of the inn before I too retired for the night, my companions having done so much earlier in the evening. 

#Lore24 – Entry #147 – Muckenmyre Month #26 – The Truths We Are Taught

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

Immediately, my mind scrambled to come up with a proper report to my fellow Stellae Illustris, for surely they had come here seeking me, likely for dereliction of my duty and failure during my pursuit of the rebels.  I would be punished severely, of course, but it would be what was required after all, and perhaps, with enough time I could work my way back up to prove my loyalty to the Emperor and…

Then the parts of my brain that had been awakened to a different way of life began to assert themselves.  I finally realized Satella was trying to get my attention, asking me what was wrong, scanning the crowd for some undetected threat. 

Finally I focused on the source of the conversation.  It was odd that the Stellae Illustris would speak so openly in our secret tongue…and then I focused on the actual words that were being spoken.  It wasn’t some reprimand or command to me, rather a jovial conversation, recounting some part of a recent journey, the troubles with a wagon along the road, the sights that had been along the way.  My eyes fell upon the speakers, one of the humans, wearing the garb of a merchant, speaking to…a kerryn man wearing dusty travelers’ clothes in bright colors.  I watched in utter fascination at the casual nature of this conversation, at how they switched back to common after a few moments, the merchant clapping his friend on the back and leading him inside his shop, and slowly it dawned upon me a new truth.

I began to hear more snippets of the language being spoken, and I looked to the eastern part of the square, saw more kerryn in the nearest parts of the market, dressed in all manner of colors and styles, chatting amongst themselves, seemingly without a care in the world, easily switching back to the common tongue when they spoke with the merchants.

I managed to stammer a question to Satella, to make certain that the language they spoke was as I now suspected, and, with a look of absolute shock upon her face, she confirmed what had taken me so long to puzzle out.

It was not a secret tongue the Stellae Illustris spoke amongst themselves in their clandestine activities.

It was the kerryn tongue. 

It was a language that belonged to the kerryn!  We had our own language!

In all my life, such a thing had never even seemed a possibility, that we kerryn could ever have our own language.  I knew many tongues, certainly, for it was required during my normal slave training, but it wasn’t until I was formally accepted into the Stellae Illustris and proved my loyalty that I was taught their “secret” language, with its complex script and rapid speaking pace. 

Heart pounding in my chest, my mind unable to process anything for the moment, I staggered toward the inn, earning some puzzled looks from those who passed us on the street.  Satella, my dear friend, was there for me once again, taking hold of me and helping me to our shared room.  I cried then, pouring out some of the many decades of pain that had built up within me, holding onto her for dear life, any semblance of self-control I had possessed shattered. 

The Empire, and the long line of Emperors and all of those serving it, had taken our very language from us, had enslaved us and taught us that we were so much less than others within the Empire, that we could not be free, lest we break the world again.  We were allowed only the “freedoms” they permitted, had to be controlled and kept in line at all times.  If they could steal our language from us, erase all record of it save that which they would allow us to have once we had proved ourselves loyal enough…what else could they have taken?  What “truths” had we been given that were anything but? 

How much had truly been taken from us if our own language was now used against us, made a reward for the Stellae Illustris who would police our own kind?

It was late into the evening when I finally came to something that resembled my senses, or at least, had managed to stop bawling as I had been.  As I lay in the bed, curled up with my head in Satella’s lap, her fingers gently running through my hair and along my ears to comfort me, I heard more of my language in the air, this time in song, coming from the common room below, heard the jovial music that accompanied the singer’s voice. 

It was perhaps the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

Finally picking myself up, giving Satella another strong embrace and thanking her sincerely for her friendship, I resolved to learn more about my people.  I quickly washed my face and made some semblance of order with my appearance, and together we ventured downstairs.

#Lore24 – Entry #146 – Muckenmyre Month #25 – Inside the House of the Lady of Justice

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

Entering into the temple, I found the interior to be somewhat sparse and simple in decoration, seeing Lashana’s symbol on display prominently on the wall hangings, but the actual area of worship reminded me more of a court room, with several rows of simple benches for seating, a box not unlike that a judge would sit behind instead of a more typical pulpit, even tables set before it like those that would be used by two parties presenting their cases, though these were currently filled with unremarkable pewter and silver candle holders, bowls, and the like.  I could see a trial being held here, and later, I would learn that was exactly what it was used for at times.

My eyes then went to the gray stone effigy of Lashana that stood above the altar, about ten feet tall, appearing as a human woman, eyes hidden by a red silk blindfold, wearing unremarkable robes while holding a scabbarded bastard sword in her hands, the scales upon the pommel balanced while large braziers bathed her in their light from either side.  I couldn’t exactly say then why I felt my heart racing as I looked upon her image and wouldn’t understand the reason until much later.

I was approached by a dwarven man after a few moments when I did not move from the doorway, his robes gray but fringed with a trio of silver threaded bands at the wrists and similar scrollwork on his chest and the collar of the robes.  His hair was brown and had more gray than not, the same with his neatly trimmed beard, and he wore silver-framed spectacles low on his nose.  He greeted me directly, introducing himself as Justicar of the Temple Detran Grayforge, asking if I sought justice, knowledge, vengeance, or perhaps a confession.  My confusion must have been plain upon my face, and certainly I couldn’t immediately form a response, for he then smiled and bid me to follow him to one of the benches to explain what it was that brought me into the Lady’s house.

I explained the business which had brought me to Ryanathyr specifically, which he seemed to heartily approve of, calling it “the Lady’s Work”, but then I explained that I was not of these lands and had come from the Empire, his visage darkening, and then rolled up my sleeve to reveal my slave brand, admitting that I knew nothing of Lashana, had only heard her name a few minutes before.  I sensed that some kind of anger had welled up in him, but he quickly hid it, rising and bidding me to follow him.  He led me behind the altar and into some of the private chambers reserved for confessions, retrieved a pitcher of water and cups for us, and we began to speak of why Lashana was not worshiped in my homeland.

I could not believe his words at first, my mind, long trained to reject such thoughts, immediately sounding the alarm bells of heresy.  The story he told me of the Great Cataclysm made no sense, contradicted most of what I had been taught, especially regarding the role the kerryn played in the events that lead to the upheaval of the world.  How could I believe that we were not responsible for the great breaking, that our goddess had been taken from us through treachery and conspiracy by demons, deities, and mortals alike?  He told me that our people had continued to fight on in the face of madness that swept through most of our priesthood when our goddess fell, against the Elvish Dominion that sought our downfall for our alliance with the long-extinct aerian people, that we had tried to stop the very cataclysm that we are blamed for within the Empire.  To add more to my confusion, he also told me that not everyone sees history in such a way, that the Elvish Greathouses tell a different story, that their accounts support the idea that the kerryn were the ones who brought forth the demons, that many more have their own histories that muddle the truth.  Lashana herself is quite clear on the matter, however, for she witnessed the downfall of Saressh, and this great injustice is what she seeks to avenge, and why she cannot be worshipped within the Empire.

So many things had just been told to me, so many contradictions to the truths I had been taught from birth, the facts of life that I knew to be just that.  I had never conceived that there could be another point of view, that I may have been lied to by the very Emperor I served with my utmost devotion.

It took some time before I realized that he had told me the name of the kerryn mother goddess, and that this was the first time I had ever heard her name. 

Saressh. 

I was completely overwhelmed by this point, feeling as if my entire world had suddenly collapsed.  I could detect no deception in Justicar Grayforge’s words, no signs that he was trying to deceive me for some other purpose.  I had tears in my eyes, running down my face to fall upon my hands.  He laid a hand upon my shoulder, offered a prayer to Lashana to give me strength, to light my way in this time of vulnerability. 

I’m not sure how long it took for me to recover from my initial shock, but once I had regained control of my faculties, I excused myself, for I did not want to worry Satella.  I had far too much weighing in my mind now that I had to sort through, and it would take a long time for me to do so.  He understood, wished me the best on my journey, and said that I would be in his prayers, that I would be welcome within Lashana’s temple should I need a place to go.  Before he saw me to the door, though, he offered me a parting gift, a small book that explained Lashana’s faith, the nature of her justice, and of the Great Injustice she sought to remedy. 

I thanked him, holding the book to my chest once I departed.  I found Satella sitting nearby, and she immediately came to me, embracing me, for she could tell I was unsettled.  After enjoying the comfort of her embrace for some moments, I thanked her, and we made our way back toward the inn; it was already dark beneath the trees, though the sky above showed the sun was just now setting. 

As we approached the inn, my thoughts churning with uncertainty and many questions I had never before thought to ask, my heart nearly leapt from chest as we came upon the square near the inn.  My ears rose, and I froze in place, daring not even to breathe, for I heard voices speaking in a language I had not heard since I set out on my ill-fated voyage to the Dragon Isles.

It was the secret language of the Stellae Illustris.

#Lore24 – Entry #143 – Muckenmyre Month #22 – Grimbridge Justice

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

Though I thought it too light a sentence for allowing myself to get into such a state, Satella deemed that not curing my hangover and letting me deal with the consequences an entirely adequate punishment, though it was one I would not suffer alone, for she too imbibed too much that day.

I was late to rise that morning, and by the time I had managed to get myself ready for the day, it was already mid-morning, and the town was already hard at work on deciding the fate of our prisoners.  The twins were still pilloried outside the jail, though wearing some foul-smelling mixture of swamp mud, rotten fruits and vegetables, and other substances I could not immediately identify.  They gnawed at their bits in an almost frantic state, shaking and jerking at their restraints as I approached them, fear in their eyes.  I paused then, watching their reaction, considering that perhaps my methods were far too harsh for this land.  Then I thought of what destruction the pair could have caused in town, how easily they had thrown in with bandits, and how they had so casually tried to open an unknown portal in the hold keep and decided that my punishments for them were perhaps not enough.

I sought the mayor and the constable then, finding them with the town council and several of the town guard, recording statements from the merchant caravan and the prisoners we had freed.  They were bringing in the bandits one at a time, trying to get information out of them, but their resolve to keep their mouths shut seemed to have been bolstered by the confidence of their leader now that he’d had a chance to recover from the fight.  I watched proceedings for a time, eventually getting called for my statement on the matter, which I gladly related with due diligence on the details, though perhaps I was a bit too thorough for this particular region?   I simply gave reports as I usually did, with all the details I had been trained to convey to my masters, but kept getting prompted to speed things along. 

Eventually, once the morning’s procedures had closed, I offered my services as an interrogator to the town, to pry any remaining information from the bandits regarding additional forces, other hideouts, their plot with the noble girl, whatever else I could get from them.  Though Mayor Pleasence may have suspected the things I knew, and perhaps others as well, given the commonalities I shared with Satella, confirming what I am to them now revealed some apprehension on several faces.  Nonetheless, I offered to perform what must be done, and likewise offered the promise that no permanent damage would be incurred upon the brigands, if that was what concerned them.  I likewise offered to punish the criminals for their deeds, consistent with town law, if others did not wish to do so themselves; my hands were stained with enough blood, a little more would not matter, and it was for the public good.

Though their discussion lasted some time, it was eventually decided to allow me to proceed.  Satella had shown up by now, though remained silent, though encouraging.  I began the process by entering the jail with the jeering prisoners, allowing them their moment of bravado, before I picked one of the lesser thugs at random and had him hauled out to an accompanying room, well within earshot of the others.  I’ll spare the details of my methods here but to say that the bandit screamed for some time, and when he was returned to the cell, on the edge of consciousness and a quivering mess, not a mark upon him, the others were much cowed.  I stared down Jaggedtusk now, quickly forcing him to turn away, his own confidence now in doubt.  I picked another bandit, the second largest of them after their leader, and began to question him.  He was quite eager to speak to me of their intentions, and it took little prompting to get the answers we sought.  Once I had the information, I related to him the fate he had avoided by being so cooperative, in excruciating detail, with the promise that it could still happen if he revealed what we had spoken of to his companions.  He was shaking and in tears when they brought him back to cell, and absolutely refused to speak.

The fear within the jail rose significantly.

The next time I entered, I chose Jaggedtusk himself.  Though he tried to put on a strong front, I could see his nervousness clearly.  Once the guards had left us alone, I simply stared at him across the table for some time, my expression completely neutral.  His unease grew steadily, and he began to squirm, and no matter what he said, I did not reply, only shifted my head slightly one way or the other.  When I finally leaned forward and placed my hands on the table, he nearly jumped out of his skin.  Then I allowed myself a slight smile as I looked upon him, stating calmly that I had finally decided how I wanted to make him scream.  He offered me everything at that point, eager to please me and avoid the torture he had imagined.  When he was returned to the cells, he was a much-deflated man.  The following interviews were just that; having seen their leader broken, the other bandits were quick to offer up all that they knew.

My job finished to my satisfaction, as it was late in the day now, I returned to the mayor, constable, and town council, relating what I had learned. There was thankfully no grand plot against Grimbridge; the bandits had simply formed over time and had been getting more bold in their actions as they moved south, eventually learning of the keep in the swamps.  They had been operating for a few months now, tending to keep their unlawful activities to the north of the swamp due to better choice of targets.  Capturing the noblewoman, the maid, and her would be protector had simply been an opportunity they had come upon on the roads south of Ryanathyr during one of their raids, their appearances fancying Jaggedtusk, who had admitted to having to real plans on turning them over for some time.  Undoubtedly there was a reward for their safe return and the capture of the ones responsible. 

Though I was now looked upon with newfound trepidation by the members of the council, they nonetheless thanked me for my efforts in aiding the town and ensured me and my companions would be rewarded properly.  When further discussion had ceased, it was ultimately decided that the lot of the bandits and the twins, would be transported to Ryanathyr and delivered for their ultimate justice there, likely to be sentenced to hard labor in the Iron Valley Prison.  Satella and I volunteered to join the town guard in escorting them north, and soon enough, Jessiryn and Augra would inform us that they would be going along as well, as would some of the merchants and the former prisoners.  Official documents would be drawn up the following morning, and a pair of wagons would be fashioned to hold the prisoners over the next two days. 

On a rather cool and rainy morning, our party, with prisoners in tow, would set out from Grimbridge for the four-day journey along the Way, bound for the City of Ryanathyr.

#Lore24 – Entry #130 – Muckenmyre Month #9 – The Many Labors in Grimbridge

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

I threw myself into my labors during the following weeks, for with them, I was given purpose.  The mayor and Satella heartily approved, though she was adamant that I not overwork myself.  We would still find time, usually in the evenings, to share our practice sessions, and she would begin offering her services as a priestess to the town at large, though she would earn far more serving as cook at the Grimbridge Inn, for few were willing to suffer her healing unless it was truly a dire situation; I had found her healing quite pleasant, but I suppose I am one of the rare few that would.

I started humbly enough, with recommendations from the mayor to various other businesses within the town, hauling loads of cargo at the docks, or performing other simple jobs, such as cleaning and delivering messages.  Though the funds were meager, the coppers, and the occasional silver coins, I received were the most money I had ever personally owned.  I must admit a certain…excitement at having things to call my own, though for every such thought, I have many more screaming in my head that what I do is wrong, that I am a slave, that I should be handing such things to my master, for it is their money by right…and yet, I have no master but myself for the time being.  I still keep my broken collar and cuffs in immaculate shape, however, and think often of my Emperor but…but I must also admit that those thoughts are coming with greater difficulty each day. 

I wonder if perhaps I will one day forget to have them at all?  It’s a possibility that I find at once terrifying and yet feel a growing sense of elation at the prospect of it actually happening.  Can I be trusted with such freedoms?  Apparently kerryn are free in this land, and, as I’ve learned, many groups of them roam the countryside at their leisure, a wandering, nomadic lifestyle.  It seems so strange to me that such a thing is possible…my kind allowed to roam as they will, free of collars and leashes and those who they would call master.  I would call it madness, certainly, were I not beginning to understand what freedom was.  It is a dangerous time for my slave mind.

I would suddenly find my labors changing after a couple of weeks interacting with the townsfolk.  Though I had done simple work initially, it was discovered one day quite by chance that I am not only able to speak several languages, but I am also able to read and write them, and that I am able to handle basic mathematics.  As fate would have it, I found myself cleaning within Osmin Grassmane’s curiosity shop when a group of adventurers who had just arrived from the docks came in and began browsing his wares.  I remained as unobtrusive as I could, of course, as was proper, though I kept my ears open, for the adventurers were elves, and they were speaking their own language.  This wasn’t particularly abnormal, of course, but I caught on quickly to the derisive comments they made while seeming to look upon the goods approvingly.  I then heard one of them make a bet with the other that he could get Osmin to pay handsomely for an old, useless journal they’d plucked out of some ruin or another.  As I was his employee at the time, I took it upon myself to defend the store.  So, I moved quietly behind the counter, as if my cleaning were done, and stood behind Osmin as one of the elves approached, producing a battered, old leatherbound book.  He then proceeded to try and sell it as a great elvish wizard’s spellbook, sprinkling in many elvish words whose meanings were not what he passed them off as, and pointing to passages that spoke of mundane affairs of a merchant as if they were describing potent magical rituals.  Osmin obviously couldn’t read or understand the elvish speech and was being drawn into the lies.  Before talk of money could be started, I spoke up, pointing out the true nature of the book and the nature of the elves’ words and earlier comments.  As I displayed my familiarity with their language by speaking it and offering a translation of one of the passages, the adventurer grew angry with me, though Osmin was quite convinced and promptly expelled them from the store.  I would spend the rest of the day looking over various other documents and items he had collected over the years, identifying most of the text upon them, and for my aid in this, he was quite grateful, paying me the coppers for not only for my earlier cleaning, which I hadn’t actually finished, but a couple of silver coins as well.

I did not think such language skills were that uncommon, especially for merchants, as these were things taught to most kerryn slaves in the Empire, for we were expected to assist our masters in many aspects of life.  It is common that we are tasked with running their businesses or aiding in translations of documents and speech, singing songs from the various races in their native tongues, or any other number of tasks that require basic education in languages.  It is a burden we bear so that our masters do not have to, so it was quite startling to learn that many of the townsfolk here were not trained as I was, even merchants such as Osmin, who had taken over the business after his father had been killed in a pirate raid some years ago, and had simply been too trusting in the nature of adventurers. 

Word spreads fast in Grimbridge, for the next day I had multiple people seeking me for assistance in translating various documents they had obtained at some time or another, whether it was simple receipts or longer documents.  Most were true to their believed contents, which seemed to please their owners, while I did discover some that were either honest mistakes or willful deceptions in phrasing.  I would also discover some errors in the calculations on other documents, though I wasn’t tasked with doing so, I felt obligated to mention it, and so the day after that I was requested to begin reviewing various ledgers and such for the town’s council and other merchants.  Apparently, it had been some time since a proper barrister, sage, or scribe had been in town, and so it was a very odd series of days that I would spend in such roles, though I was sometimes called upon to provide my translation services when certain travelers came to town who did not deign to speak the common tongue.

I would find myself involved in such a translation one evening at the docks, near sunset, translating for a kobold merchant who had just arrived in port, trying to offload a shipment of finely crafted glassware more fit for a big city than the small town she found herself in, her first time at this particular port, apparently.  Certainly, there was no lack of enthusiasm from the kobold, though the mayor and merchant council were growing tired of her efforts.  The negotiation would be interrupted when a disturbance broke out at the Bloated Floater, and I would find myself revealing even more of myself than I had intended.

 

#Lore24 – Entry #128 – Muckenmyre Month #7 – Proper Punishments in Grimbridge

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

My condition continued to improve as the next few days passed, my body returning to proper form through frequent exercise and excellent food, thanks to Satella.  I assisted with all the chores I could of course, still feeling that I must at least do something in return for all the care she and Mayor Pleasence had given me.  I saw little of him during these days, as he was busy with handling both town matters and his own business, the town general store, but he continued to insist that our presence in his home was no trouble, that he was in fact grateful to come home to a warm meal for the first time since the passing of his wife several years prior.  It was during these days that Satella had given me this journal, encouraging me to record my thoughts since my arrival in Grimbridge. 

I’ve also cleaned and oiled my collar and cuffs, damaged though they are, for they are the last vestiges of my life in the Empire, and I must continue to honor my Emperor as best I can until I can return.  I still feel ill at ease without them, naked in spite of any clothing I may wear, still have moments where I realize that they’re missing and find my hands groping for them.  Yet…even though it’s barely been two weeks since I awoke here, I have noticed that these moments are coming less and less frequently. I am concerned by this…I should be collared, whether or not I bear the markings of a slave trainer or the Stellae Illustris, yet there are indeed no other slaves in Grimbridge, and the very concept of such a thing is nigh unfathomable here.  The town smith has not a single collar in his inventory, and the only proper restraints are housed within the town jail.

I requested that Satella assist in my punishment for neglecting the care of my gear for so long, for she could inflict the required pain much more efficiently than I could myself.  She eagerly agreed, and I quickly disrobed and lowered myself to my knees before her, offering her my crossed wrists for binding.  Her smile became cruel, the kind of look I expected to see, and I prepared myself for the pain that was to come.

She took each wrist in turn, slapping them lightly with two fingers, barely even hard enough for me to feel them, let alone cause any of the pain I required for my transgressions.  She then declared my punishment finished, hoped that I had learned my lesson, and bid me to put my clothes back on, her usual cheerful smile back upon her face.

Her response left me speechless, too stunned to redress myself for several minutes, and for a time, I thought perhaps she was making fun of me.  It would be her right, of course, but I would later understand that she simply didn’t see my lack of proper slave gear as a punishable offense.  I still struggle to understand that the Empire’s ways are not the ways of this land, and I am not expected to adhere to them.  I remained in my room much of the rest of that day, holding my broken collar, weighing the thoughts that now filled my mind, thoughts unbecoming of a slave, especially one in my position with my responsibilities. 

At dinner, when I inquired with Mayor Pleasence (though he insists I call him by his first name, as he is an authority in this town, I cannot bring myself to do so, for it wouldn’t be proper) about his stance on punishment for my behavior, he said that Satella was probably too harsh on me.  He had said it deadly serious, as he often is, but the slight twitch of his lips, the narrowing of his eyes, told me that he had meant it in a joking manner.  He then clarified that there would be no punishments the law didn’t require, and there were laws against owning slaves here, not for punishing them.  I caught myself apologizing for my ignorance, and the subject was quickly dropped with his promise that he would get a copy of the local laws for me to study after dinner.

And study them I did, reading through them several times, committing them to memory.  I was indeed shocked to see the declaration that slavery was illegal, that there were no provisions regarding treatment of kerryns, or any other races for that matter, and that most punishments involved fines, public humiliation, or jail time mixed with enforced labor, with more severe punishments requiring time in prison, with only the most severe transgressions recommending execution.  Torture was mentioned briefly, stating that in certain circumstances it was allowed, but I generally got the impression it was frowned upon.

It seemed strange to me that the town’s laws were so lax in comparison to those within the Empire.  However, even if I find their ways unusual, I must still abide by them to the best of my ability.  I wonder if I will be able to fully embrace them, though?  I am having more thoughts that a slave should not have, more questions unbecoming of a Stellae Illustris, of an Inquisitor, of a loyal servant of the Emperor, may He live forever.  My thoughts are heavy this night; I likely will find little sleep once more.

#Lore24 – Entry #127 – Muckenmyre Month #6 – The Ways of Mind and Body

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

I am not certain how long I stood where the mayor had left us, but after a time, Satella gently nudged me, bidding me to follow her.  Having no will of my own at the time, I did so as a slave would, a few steps behind, careful to keep my gaze from meeting anyone’s eyes.  It became awkward as we traversed the town again, when Satella kept slowing her pace so that I could catch up, and I likewise stopped behind her.  She realized what I was doing after a few instances of this happening, and gently informed me that she and I were equals now, and that I should walk beside her.

I didn’t know how to process that.  Me?  Equal to a free human?  It seemed absurd to the point of laughter, but I could find no such mirth within me.  Still, her smile never left her face, and she showed a remarkable amount of patience with my awkwardness.  It is so unnatural for me to consider walking beside someone who was not a slave, so against my very nature that I had to concentrate on the very act, knowing that were someone from the Empire to see me, I would be punished severely, and rightly so. 

Satella took me out of town via a boardwalk off the Lower Landing, following a rocky patch along the coast, in view of the Grimbridge lighthouse that stood on a nearby island, and eventually we wound up at a manmade breakwater that jutted out from the shore.  Satella showed remarkable agility for a human, her raised heels easily hopping along the rocks as she brought me to the end of the jetty.  There was a large, smooth boulder here, laying almost flat, which she lowered herself to her knees upon, and had me do the same, resting her hands upon her knees.  For a time, we said nothing, her eyes looking out over the sea, the waves calm for the moment, but the darkening skies further out indicating a storm on the way. 

Though I had recently been plucked from the very sea I now gazed upon, I held no fear of it, no particularly strong feelings.  The waves crashing upon the rocks a few feet below us were calming, the breeze blowing over us pleasant enough in the warm morning.  The sounds of the docks were but a faint buzz in my ears at the time.  After some time simply taking in the moment, Satella had turned her gaze upon me, and I could feel the intensity of her scrutiny. 

It was the same kind of gaze that I had mastered as an inquisitor, deep, penetrating, unnerving.  I was used to that look of course, so was unfazed by it, but thought it curious nonetheless.  I had had my suspicions about Satella’s nature, in the little time I had known her, but it seemed that she was openly telling me of her true self now.  I suppose it makes some kind of sense.  As a kerryn, I cannot begin to fathom the nature or intentions of the gods, for such things are not meant for us, but for Yurisaya to send a Confessor to be my caretaker at this time seemed somehow appropriate.  We are both intimately familiar with inflicting and receiving pain, of the many arts of torture, of the Ways of Mind and Body, as they are usually called; the word “Breaking” is usually omitted from the name.  I am uncertain as to how these methods came to be, and whether the Yurisayan confessors adopted them from the Inquisition, or if it was the other way around, but, at least, some things are the same even across the vast distance between here and the Empire, so it is likely the latter that is true.

Kindred spirits by virtue of our abilities to inflict and endure pain, of our ability to drive others away from us by our very nature. 

And yet, Satella was rather different than the Confessors I had known; she was very much like the average Yurisayan in demeanor:  cheerful, compassionate, friendly…yet still at a distance from others, as evidenced by the looks she had been given by the townsfolk.  A strange dichotomy, but one I could understand; I had often put on such faces myself, at least in my earlier days, before I had been fully adopted into the Inquisition. 

Having shared this moment, she rose, and I followed, and now openly aware of both of our natures, she assumed a stance, nodding for me to do so as well.  Of course, I was quite familiar with the form, for it is amongst the most basic of exercises which I practice daily and had resumed following her healing my bones.  The forms were unarmed techniques, meant for fighting without need of weapons or armor, for slaves were to have neither outside of a full-fledged slave knight of the Stellae Illustris, but quite useful for an Inquisitor hidden amongst the rank and file of the slaves.  The particular techniques we shared were meant to be the most efficient at disabling opponents, at inflicting the most damaging blows to bone in order to disable and cripple, to strike the nerves in ways that could cause limbs to go numb.

I mirrored her movements exactly, without need of her to slow her progression through them, though by the time we had finished with the exercises, I was sweating and winded, still not fully recovered from my ordeal at sea.  We returned to sitting upon the stone for a while longer, until I had recovered, simply enjoying the sea, though it was growing rougher as the storm approached. 

Though my deeper thoughts were still far away, back in the heart of the Empire, my earlier uncertainties about my situation had alleviated somewhat, knowing that I had a kindred spirit beside me, our intrinsic understanding of one another creating a bond between us without need of words. 

#Lore 24 – Entry #120 – Sci-Fi Month II #29 – Puff the Dragon Magic

From the Personal Journal of Seiko Kajira, Galactic News Gazette reporter, assigned UEF-04 Maharani Morgiana.

I thought dragons were supposed to be exciting, and yet all we’ve done for weeks now is dig in the dirt at some old, ruined dragon city.  No actual dragons, just a bunch of really old, boring statues and carvings of them.  Oh, and the deadly wildlife.  Have I mentioned the snakes down there?  Holy shit, the snakes!  They look horrifying, their heads very much draconic, and they can spit venom.  The scouts killed one that had to be thirty feet long!  Then they ate it!  Urgh.  Count me out; the smell made my nose hurt.

Where is all the magic that dragons are supposed to be known for?  It’s the same story all over again.  I’m not an expert, right?  But even I know that on every world we’ve found these ruins on, the dragons come, they wreck stuff, they get all the races pissed off at them, then they leave.  I mean, they sound pretty unpleasant if you ask me.  Why else do they keep getting shoved off their planets, hmm?  Give me something more exciting to report on!  I fell asleep like six times just trying to write up the report I mailed back home.  SO. BORING.

I’ve fallen back to entertaining myself aboard the Morgiana since my visit planet-side, decided to advance a few of the plot lines I’ve been working on for my impromptu reality drama series.  Still plenty of people aboard during the ruin exploration to mess with, after all.  Kiara’s storyline took a surprising twist without my help, though; apparently he’s started seeing that dark elf Over-Warden.  Hasn’t helped his tardiness at all, so I imagine he’s getting abuse on and off the clock now.  The new mistress must really like his ass in those SexyTech shorts, though; he hasn’t taken them off since their first night together, and I’d swear his skirts have gotten shorter to help show’em off. 

I met one of the fighter pilots last week when I had to go blow off some steam at the gun range, Sorisana Kelvaris.  She’s practicing to become a quick draw artist apparently, even uses a big fuck-off revolver.  She’s got secrets; I picked up on it within minutes of talking to her, and not just the usual kind of secrets elves keep.  It’ll take a while for me to get her to warm up, though; she’s a cold one.  May have to start spreading some rumors, put her under a little pressure.  Wonder what kind of past she’s running from?  Hmmm…corpo intrigues are overdone and boring as hell anymore, so maybe something with the Great Houses?  Exiled princess, maybe?  Or maybe she’s a sneaky assassin type, on the run from justice, has to keep her shooting skills sharp because she can’t know when someone will find out about her?  Decisions, decisions!

I really need to start working on some of the security team guys; the ones following me around are pretty boring, though, like soldier on guard duty boring.  The CSO must’ve picked them out personally just for me; I know he doesn’t trust me.  Probably a good idea on his part, but everyone’s got their secrets; it’s only a matter of time till I find something on him that’ll spice things up.  Think I’ll start working on that orcish fellow who comes into VV’s place ever so often when he’s off the clock, Morzod Fiedskinner.  He’s got ties to the Badaxe Clan going by his tattoos, and he’s definitely seen some shit, a lot more than the other security guards I’ve talked to thus far.  Bet once I get him to warm up to me, he’ll give me all kinds of juicy tidbits.

Then there’s the twin librarians, the Seraph twins; on the attractive side for Chroniclers, and on the gullible side, too.  Probably brought up sheltered, just now getting out into the world for themselves.  Both of them usually have their head in the clouds thanks to those thought-recording implants they sport, but I think I can work with them and get something going.  They’re at that age when humans find it hard to control their baser instincts, so a little nudge here and there could get results.  Maybe I should go for the twincest crowd?  Nah, that’d be a bit too niche… But…maybe some tension between the churches would be fun?  Could try to get one twin tied up with Erisaya’s crowd, the other Yurisaya’s, then watch as the sparks start flying when their next disagreement ramps up.  Would have to be careful, though, let it build up slowly; those of the Lovely Sisters know how to read people better than I do…but what’s life without a little danger?

#Lore 24 – Entry #110 – Sci-Fi Month II #19 – Fashion Victims of the Azalina Fang Academy

From the Personal Journal of Seiko Kajira, Galactic News Gazette reporter, assigned UEF-04 Maharani Morgiana

I’ve always wondered what that all-girls’ arcane academy on Andyllion was like, and I just found my ticket to some inside information from a someone who graduated from there.  This Kirara Mizutani had an especially non-standard experience while he was there, and once I’d gotten a few drinks into him, he wasn’t shy about telling me all the juicy bits.  And how juicy they are!  I’d expect this kind of thing from a school ran by followers of the Lovely sisters, but not from a school for wizardly types.

So, this place is already famous for being an all women school…mostly.  Hell, I didn’t know men could go there and NOT get turned into animals; I was always under the impression that part was just a quirk of the nature of the island the school is on, but apparently that’s not the case.  Men can go there, if they’re willing to either use magic to change their gender or, if they don’t go that far, they can go most of the way by hyper-feminizing themselves through similar magics.  However, that comes with a kinky little caveat:  they must wear chastity cages on their cocks for the duration of their education there, whether they’re on the island or not, and even during breaks.  So, either no dicky or caged dicky; either way, they weren’t going to use it, so the cherries were safe (or not; apparently there’s no shortage of sex off the island, and even on it…). 

But that’s not all; apparently the men, even those that go full sex change, have to undergo a full year of remedial studies on top of the normal term, which has little to do with magic, rather, they have to become part of one of the sorority houses and learn how to be proper ladies, always wearing dresses and heels and makeup, most of it bright pink, learning how to fix their hair, that sort of stuff.  And that year also apparently involves being a maid for the whole house, and that comes with all kinds of kinky sexcapades apparently…not that the guys were really getting off that much, or at all, but apparently the female students had no such restrictions.  I have a feeling I could pump Mizutani for more details about the lusty hijinks and have enough material to write erotica for centuries.  Not that I’d really need a lot of help; I could just make up all kinds of shit involving magical schoolgirls and forced-feminization and make an okay bonus check every now and then.

So, Mizutani went into some detail about the sorority houses at the Academy.  It’s always been a bit of a mystery, something the students tend to lord over the outsiders as some big secret, those colorful socks and leggings of theirs. Turns out it’s not really that big of a secret.  I’m actually kind of pissed at myself for even asking about them after I found out the truth.  So, those multi-color leggings aren’t just tied to what course of study they are pursuing but also represent their House.  There are twelve major Houses on the Isle, and each one has their own colors; that’s represented by the inner-most layer of their legwear, usually by stockings or tights.  The next layer is an inner sock that represents what year of study they are on, and the outer layer represents the particular type of magic they’re studying; it’s possible to have multiple fields of study, so it’s not uncommon for students to have four or five layers on their legs, in various states of garishness depending on the particular combination.

Fuck me, that took way too long to explain…

The sororities themselves are just as I’ve heard, though.  The largest houses are dominated by one particular megacorp or another, the big names, anyway, like DSM or VTC, and are usually filled with students who come from families tied to whatever corp is in control.  There are a few smaller houses that barely qualify to be called such in comparison to those linked to the megacorps, and these are usually there for anyone who may not want to get entangled with the big guys or just the outcasts.

In Mizutani’s case, it was only his first year that wasn’t standard.  And it was an interesting time on the Isle of Fang, apparently.  There were an unprecedented number of men who signed on that year, a dozen, which meant that each of the Great Sororities got their own special maid for at least a year.  The administration even felt like having a little fun and randomized the house the students were sent to, just to make sure there wasn’t any favoritism going on.  Mizutani didn’t say which house he joined, but from what I gather they didn’t take it easy on him, always teasing, tempting, and tormenting, as he put it.  I would say I feel sorry for him, but the way he looked after he started telling me some of the kinkier details, I think he enjoyed himself quite a bit.  Which would explain why he kept the feminization thing going, and still wears his school colors most days.  I suppose it is something to be proud of, making it through a school like that and graduating with honors.

I’m going to be meeting him a few more times, I think.  Maybe dig for some juicier details on some of the corpo kids he was there with, something I could use later on, maybe.  Or hell, maybe I’m just curious to hear more about his sex life.  He’s cute enough; maybe I can try that bullying angle, see if he responds to that in some way.  Or maybe play a little footsie under the table, see how big he is now that he’s out of that school-enforced cock cage and looking like he does.

I’ve got multiple years to stay busy here, okay?  I might as well find something to entertain myself while waiting for news to happen.  We won’t even drop out of hyperspace for another week and a half, and I’m BORED.  Fuck me, I need to go for a walk or something, I’m starting to get angry again just thinking about being ANYWHERE else.

#Lore 24 – Entry #105 – Sci-Fi Month II #14 – Encountering Frontier Colonists and Treasure Hunters

Memo for all crewmembers aboard UEF-04 Maharani Morgiana.

Attention:

Please be aware as you traverse recently revealed territories within the Demon Sector that your duties will inevitably lead to contact with those who have ventured ahead of you.  Though the number of early explorers is small in the grand scheme of things, there are tracked vectors from hundreds of vessels that have ventured into uncharted space.  Though it is unlikely that most of these will ever be seen again, simply going by the odds of survival without a support network, there is little doubt that a small few at least will have survived.

You should be prepared to discover remnants of these early explorers, most likely in the form of ships that have run out of fuel and are either adrift or crashed, perhaps even broken up due to aetheric harsh currents and storms, or other astrological phenomena in the given region.  It is entirely possible that remains may be on board.  In such circumstances it is proper to offer prayers or a short ceremony of some kind, as your or their particular faith indicates, but do not linger overly long unless it is deemed relevant by your commanding officer.  Follow any funerary traditions as may be applicable if time and opportunity permits.

With that said, you are also likely to encounter living people who have ventured out to experience the frontier and all that it has to offer.  Several ships loaded with potential colonists have been recorded leaving Aphelion Station, so it is entirely possible you will come across these settlers, perhaps even those with successful, thriving colonies.  You should not be overbearing when dealing with these people; simply inform them that your mission is exploration and mapping, and that you are not there to challenge their claims.  Only resort to violence as a last resort, and only if they engage it first.  It is also likely that some of these colonists, if not a vast majority of them, will be struggling to survive in conditions they could not have prepared for, and may find themselves in dire straits.  If that is the case, then we will be obliged to offer what aid we can, whether it is resources (assuming we can spare them) or possibly taking them aboard our exploration vessels (again, if space and resources permit).  On the other hand, it may be beneficial to try and join with existing colonies as local bases of operations, as the locals should know much about the particular areas they have claimed.  Each case will have to be evaluated individually, and the ultimate decision lies with your commanding officers.

There are also those who ventured into the depths of the Demon Sector looking for profit, whether it is natural resources they can claim for resale, or, more likely, those thinking there are lost civilizations and their treasures to be claimed.  UEF-01 and 03 have encountered at least half a dozen of these groups, and each encounter has been hostile, half of them devolving into shooting matches due to the perception by the treasure seekers that our explorers are there to claim their wealth.  When encountering unknown groups, always exercise extreme caution, and do not stray far from your assigned protective detail.  Be sure to maintain proficiency with your defensive small arms as well while aboard your primary vessels; you likely won’t have time once you’re on a deployment.  Speak with your commanding officers if you require further training.  Remember:  it is ultimately YOUR responsibility to protect your own life; never rely wholly on another for this.

Thank you, and may your journey be safe!