Tag: Empire

#Lore24 – Entry #163 – Wild West Month #11 – The Goblin People of the Far Southern Lands Beyond the Peaks that Never Rest

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

While the Orc Peoples of the north are strong and mighty warriors, there is perhaps a greater danger which lies to the far south, beyond the Peaks that Never Rest.  Long have our people told of the Night Goblin People of the Lands Beyond the Peaks that Never Rest, for it is said they are born of the Devil-Wardens’ foul sorcery.  The lost Mountain Bear tribe of Kerra-Kerra, who once roamed the lands around the Peaks that Never Rest, are said to have been taken by these goblins, though we know not what came of them, for any who venture beyond the Peaks never return.

Though none living amongst our people has seen these goblins, it is said by our ancestors that they are possessed by the spirits of the Devil-Wardens, skin the color of night and with eyes that blaze with terrible fire that can see better at night than even those of our tribe.  Using the secret ways of the Devil-Wardens, they travel unseen, unheard in the dead of night, leaving nothing behind in their wake save what they cannot carry, like some terrible dark spirit collecting souls, not a body left behind, and no blood to be found.  If they take them alive, what do they do with them?  Perhaps foul sorcery of their own, perhaps as food or slaves? 

For many moons, the Goblins of the Dark have been kept away by the Peaks that Never Rest, for travel through them is dangerous because of the constant unease of the powerful earth spirits that dwell within them.  In recent times, those from Beyond the Great Walls have placed settlements nearby, and have pushed further and further to the south, going deep into the Peaks that Never Rest in spite of the dangers.  I cannot know for certain if they even are aware of the goblins that lie beyond, but I fear it is only a matter of time before they learn of them; those from Beyond the Great Walls rarely seek wisdom from our people.

#Lore24 – Entry #152 – Muckenmyre Month #31 – Dawning of a New Spring and a New Life

From the journal of Takara, Free Kerryn, the Gray Matron of Grimbridge, Justicar Initiate of Lashana

As the new spring dawned upon Grimbridge, so too would I resolve myself to take a new path.  I had had ample time to consider my life in the Empire and all that I had learned since I was taken from its grasp.  There is much that I have not written within this journal, for its pages are nearly gone, and surely only a keeper in the Great Library could hope to keep up with the pace of all the thoughts that have been battling in my mind these past months.  So, as this journal reaches its end, so too shall this part of my life.

I have spoken with my dearest friend Satella at length of what comes next and have likewise spoken with the people of Grimbridge, whom I will always treasure as friends and allies, of my future.  As I sit atop the lighthouse’s upper deck writing this entry, looking out over the sea that delivered me to Grimbridge, bathed in the warm spring sun, I can say that I have settled my mind on many things.  Much of the conflict within me has been resolved, though I think some will always remain, for I can never forget my upbringing, my time as a slave, a slave trainer, and as an inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.  They have shaped me, for better or worse, and it is the knowledge and life experiences that I had during my life in the Empire that has helped me come to the decision I have committed to now.

I held my collar and cuffs, markers of my slavery, for the first time in many weeks today, and brought them atop the lighthouse with me.  I can recall there being a time that I wished for them to be whole again, to feel their unrelenting bite at my neck and upon my wrists, to once again be where I thought I belonged. 

Now, having considered at length what I believe in my heart, it was with no hesitation that I cast them into the sea and forever out of my life.  Satella and I removed my slave brand and the mark of the Stellae Illustris earlier this morning.  I hereby resolve myself to never again accept the Empire into my heart, for all that it has taught to my people are lies, and all it has given us is slavery and suffering.  I will do everything in my power to see to it that this injustice is rectified, though I fully understand that this is a long and dangerous road I place myself upon.

I will not be alone in this, however.  Satella will be traveling with me once we leave Grimbridge, her path aligning with mine for the foreseeable future, for she tells me that Yurisaya has taken interest in our new quest.  Furthermore, I now have something I’d never known before…faith of my own in a greater power, not just a man sitting on a throne or the system of control he represents.  I have accepted Lashana into my heart, and I can feel what could only be the goddess herself resonating there, perhaps even with my very soul.  Upon our return to Ryanathyr, I will dedicate myself to her service as a Justicar Initiate, taking her oaths, and seeking vengeance for the great injustice that was done to my people and our fallen goddess.

Though the task of bringing down an entire Empire is nigh insurmountable, I can say that I have faith that it is one that will not be in vain, however long it may take.  I know there are other groups seeking to rebel within the Empire’s borders, and I am sure there are others who seek to end their dominance from without.  Further, I am aware of certain secrets that may be useful in the future…not just of the inner workings of the Empire, but some of its darker secrets.  Should she have survived the ordeal that was placed before her intact, and could be located, Vanessa Res’Taringal may yet still live, and having her voice heard once again may well stir future resistance.

But that is for much later, perhaps many years in the future.  For now, I will say my goodbyes to my friends in Grimbridge, though perhaps not forever, and will begin my new journey.  Following my initiation into Lashana’s faith, I hope to join with the Nakao clan as they return this way and travel to new places, to learn more of their ways and of our people, to make new friends and allies along the way, perhaps all the way to the great city of Arcavarlon.  I know not how I will get there, but I will eventually return to the shores of the Empire, never again as a slave, and I will not be alone when I arrive there.

For all that I have experienced in my life, I feel as though my journey is only just beginning, and I couldn’t be happier at this very moment to begin to discover what my future will hold, the least of which being a new journal, purchased with the money I have earned for myself.  

Truly, I am liberated in my heart and soul.

#Lore24 – Entry #151 – Muckenmyre Month #30 – Winter in Grimbridge

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

The first couple of weeks following my return to Grimbridge were fairly calm, giving me some time to study the teachings of Lashana I had been given.  Though not a complete delve into the goddess’s doctrines, the book served as an excellent introduction to her ways, and contained the church’s view on the events surrounding the Great Cataclysm, and the nature of the lies surrounding it.  I still questioned the truth, of course, knowing that everyone who spoke of the matter had their own viewpoints and agendas to consider.  However, I did find her ways appealing, given my own tendency toward strong discipline, and her pursuit of justice and rightful vengeance resonated even more.  During my free time, I would begin learning more of Lashana’s ways, and of the other gods in general, speaking with those of the faiths, or reading what books I could find on them.

Unsurprisingly by now, there were more differences taught, even amongst the faithful of the gods, in the Empire. 

Though we had intended to find lodgings for ourselves, Mayor Pleasence, in his stern way, insisted that we continue lodging with him during the winter at least; I believe he was quite fond of having someone cooking and maintaining the home while he was busy with town business.  Satella continued her work as a cook and part-time healer, for those who could stand her goddess’s particular form of healing.

As promised by the constable, things did indeed pick up as the winter settled in.  More and more ships began to arrive, offloading goods along the Way instead of the rougher and often icy seas to the north, and troubles in the town began to escalate.  Sailors being what they are, there were plenty of scuffles on the docks and at the Bloated Floater, arguments on prices and quality of items, or just general attempts to bully the townsfolk.  As agreed between myself and Constable Tamblyn, we would tolerate none of it, nor would any of the town guard.  Some days went better than others, with my mere presence and a warning gaze enough to calm matters, but often there were fights I had to become involved in.  Though I always waited for the offending outsiders to start the fights with me, jumping in without thought to those that had started when I wasn’t present, I saw to it that I was the one who finished them, most often in ways that would leave the offenders in agony, and any companions of them hesitant, if not outright afraid, to try something on their own.  Satella would find no shortage of customers during the busiest of times, for the other healers in town would typically refuse to heal those who had been taught a lesson from me as a lesson of their own.

Somehow, I eventually earned a reputation and a name for myself in Grimbridge, the Gray Matron.  I was known for my harsh lessons, the pain I inflicted teaching lessons like no scholar could, but also for my willingness to see to it that the law was upheld to the letter, or as closely as possible given certain discretionary judgements rendered by the constable or the town, of course.  Though Lashana is strict on interpretation and application of the law, she is not without consideration for circumstances that may lead some to stray from the straight and narrow.  I had found myself trying to live up to her doctrines more and more as the winter continued, and though my thoughts were still drifting over the vast sea toward the Empire, they were doing so less and less; I barely took out my collar and cuffs to tend to them anymore, feeling guilty when I did, but also ashamed of my past.

As the winter continued, things would settle down in Grimbridge to some extent.  My reputation, and that of the town for taking a no-nonsense approach to outsiders causing trouble had grown, and for the most part, usually aside from drunken sailors getting into brawls, things were calm.  Jessiryn and Augra would earn quite a haul themselves during this time, as they would often escort trade caravans through the Way to Ryanthyr, though we saw little of each other.

Eventually, though, the cool of the winter months would fade, the fresh and warmer air of spring would begin to appear.  As the weather improved, the rush of activity the winter had brought to the docks would begin to fade, and so to would I find more and more time to consider where my path would lead me.

#Lore24 – Entry #150 – Muckenmyre Month #29 – The Truths we Learn for Ourselves

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

Satella and I awoke with the camp the following morning after a deep, peaceful slumber.  Though my mind would later be filled with many questions and puzzles I could not immediately work out, for the time being I simply enjoyed the atmosphere of the camp, the simplicity of their lifestyle.  We joined Emika and a few others for breakfast that morning.  It was another pleasant experience, though I told them we had companions waiting for us near the Muckenmyre and had business yet in Grimbridge that we had to tend to.  They respected my sense of duty and we would part on friendly terms, though I was quite surprised when Emika extended an offer for me to travel amongst them if I decided that I wanted to be part of their family. 

I didn’t know what to say at first, feeling a sudden, strong desire to take her up on the offer, but deciding that I should consider my future more carefully first.  I thanked her graciously and told her I would consider her offer, learning that they would be in Ryanthyr for a few more days before moving on to the southeast for milder winters and friendly territory, but that they planned to come back this way in the spring, which should give me ample time to consider their offer.  I thanked her again and said my goodbyes before Satella and I returned to our inn and retrieved our horses and a few supplies for the road, heading back toward Grimbridge.

I would not be much for conversation on the journey back, meeting up with Jessiryn and Augra around noon to continue down Grimbridge Way together.  My mind would be churning almost nonstop, trying to find the truth hidden amongst all the new information I had learned.  After my initial shock of learning what I had from Justicar Grayforge and Emika, even of the nature of the kerryn language itself, I could finally start to make sense of it all. 

Again, my well-trained slave’s mind tried to tell me that all I had learned was false, that the Emperor was simply doing his duty to protect the world from another kerryn catastrophe by keeping us in check…and yet the other part of my mind, the newly awakening state of a free kerryn, could counter those arguments easily with all that I had learned in a matter of a couple days.  Could all that I had learned be wrong?  Perhaps, but the words were spoken with conviction from people I felt I could trust, from which I sensed no deception.  They were truths to them, at least, and perhaps they were indeed facts…but could not the same be said of what was being taught to and about the kerryn within the Empire?  How big a part in the truth did the elves play in it all?  Their influence seemed to be much greater here than in the Empire, so perhaps they had manipulated the facts to a greater extent, but to what end?

To say that I was a conflicted, confused mess during that journey would be putting it mildly.

The journey back to Grimbridge was uneventful, save for some cooler temperatures and colder rains on the way back, and as we came back into town, I willed myself to push my muddled, conflicting thoughts away for a time so that I could properly greet Mayor Pleasence and others within the town.  The constable and the town guards had returned safely, and we were finally given our rewards for the services wee had rendered with the twins and bandits.  Though in the grand scheme of things, the pouch of gold and silver coins was a trifling amount, but for me, it was a stunning amount of wealth.  With my simple needs, it would last a long time, especially in Grimbridge.

I was briefly uncertain of what would come next, but as it turns out, I would have a job offer already waiting.  Constable Tamblyn asked me to stay on as a marshal for the town since I had done such a good job previously, and due to what would likely be a busy winter for them.  With the warmer climate in the region, and a worse than usual winter being predicted to the north, it meant more ships coming here and traveling along the Way, and that brought with it a lot more disturbances and potential problems.  I readily agreed to continue my services, for I still felt obligated to assist the town that had done so much for me.

And so it was that my winter in Grimbridge would begin.

#Lore24 – Entry #149 – Muckenmyre Month #28 – Amongst the Kerryn Nomads

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

For all the excitement I had within me after speaking to free kerryn for the first time, I rested surprisingly well that night, even awoke later than I usually did.  Satella admitted that she could see a difference in me already the following morning as we practiced our forms and was happy for me.  I told her of my plans, and once we had discussed matters with Jessiryn, Augra, and the constable, Satella and I decided to stay behind in Ryanathyr for a while longer after the business with the magistrate was concluded and the men from Grimbridge were on their way back home.  I couldn’t be sure exactly how long it would be before we would follow, but Jessiryn and Augra said they would wait for us on the outskirts of the Muckenmyre to accompany us back to town. 

Once the business of the town was done and we had bid farewell to the men of Grimbridge and our companions, Satella and I headed off for the nomad camp, which was just outside the city walls to the east.  In the clearing at the edge of the wood lay their two dozen or so brightly colored wagons, their horses in a makeshift stable off to one side, brightly colored tents set up all around the area.  Men and women were working about the camp, tending the daily chores, while perhaps a dozen children were running about playing, while another handful of older, younger adults, aided with the many chores. 

My slave’s mind wondered at the fact that there were no slave collars to be seen.

As we approached, Shani the dancer bounded out to greet us, looking refreshed and full of energy.  Though she too was invited in, Satella excused herself, saying that she had better visit the shrine to Yurisaya lest the Dark Lady become cross with her, but promised to return and bade me to enjoy myself for as long as I wished.  As I was led into the camp, I took in all the new scents, of the kerryn themselves, of the foods they had prepared earlier that morning, of the perfumes and herbs…the whole scene seemed almost a dream that I struggled to believe was real.

I greeted the other entertainers as we passed through the camp, busy tending their daily duties before they could go out and earn some additional money or trade in the city, and was soon brought to the wagon of the clan’s elder, Emika, who I would soon learn was also their healer and herbalist, attended by one of her daughters, Kumi, and an apprentice, Juichi.  I greeted them as warmly and casually as I could manage, still finding it difficult to behave in a manner more common in these lands.  She was quite a bit older than I, her hair having turned silver-gray (whereas mine was naturally a platinum color), her fur retaining its orange color, though, her face sun-darkened and showing lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, her clothing more simple browns and greens, though she still wore a wide purple sash about her waist.  It was rare to see a kerryn of her age in the Empire, though I had noticed several older kerryn amongst the nomads.

As her daughter served us a blend of tea I had not had before, a darker brew spiced with cinnamon and ginger, and we sat near the low fire, watching some herbal mixture cure, Emika began asking me about my journey to this side of the world, how I was getting along now that my collar had been removed.  I recounted my experiences thus far, giving additional details as she asked for them.  She eventually turned her questions to the Empire itself, even asking if I still had my slave markings, which I showed her.  She and her attendants were upset by the nature of the brands, at the scars that were around it from previous brandings and said that she had heard they used magic tattoos.

I explained why mine were different, what my duties were, lowering my head in newly discovered shame as I explained that I used to train new slaves and punish disobedient ones.  Then, quite freely, I explained the second mark, that of the Stellae Illustris, and what my duties had been as a member of their ranks.  I would never have considered giving this information freely before, but now, it seemed to flow out of me of its own accord, even the details of how we rooted out rebels and put them to the question and of how they had turned even the language we now spoke into a closely held secret.  As our conversation would continue, I would also admit to not knowing some of the words that I heard during the songs of the previous night, and even some of which she had used, for they had never been taught to me, and I had only guessed their meanings from the rest of what was being said.

After learning of my shameful past, I had expected that perhaps Emika would ask me to leave, too offended by my presence in their wholesome camp, but instead she bid me to follow her.  She led me about the camp, telling me of the history of her people, the Nakao clan, of how her own grandmother had been a fortunate escapee from the Empire that had found her way to these shores with a handful of other former slaves with the help of some world-travelling adventurers who taught them some of free living, eventually guiding them into the nomad clans that they would eventually join. 

Eventually she led me beyond the camp and into the great woods, following a well-worn trail through the mighty trees, telling me then about the many “truths” of the Great Cataclysm, telling me some of the same information as Justicar Grayforge, though also presenting how other races, specifically the elves of the ancient Dominion often presented the facts of the matter.  Eventually this turned to the nature of the kerryn people and the fallen goddess Sarresh, of how most of her teachings and ways have been lost to time as her people sought other deities to serve and worship.  The nomads, she revealed, traveled the land looking for Saressh, of any knowledge of her they could find, in the hopes that one day they might find her again.  I could only begin to guess at the possibility of resurrecting a long dead god, for such things were far beyond a someone such as myself.

I listened to Emika intently, absorbing every detail I could of what she told me as we walked, of the stories of her peoples’ journeys and history, the trail passing through several small streams and clearings, circling the city, though never leaving sight of its walls.  We passed others on the trail, citizens of the city returning from a hunt or seeking some solitude and were paid little mind but for a kindly greeting.  Some time later, well after midday, we finally returned to the camp, where I was treated to some of their cooked meats and a vegetable soup, even some of their honeyed bread.  The food was simple, but I found it delicious, and thanked them for allowing me to take part.

With the late afternoon came more rain, and then Emika asked about my future, what I planned to do with myself having learned all that I had.  Truly I did not yet have an answer.  I could not ignore the voice in my head that demanded I return to the Empire, to continue my service as a proper slave.  Nor could I another voice that told me to leave the Empire behind, to find a new purpose, to live…free.  Emika easily discerned my internal conflict, and eased me somewhat, telling me that I need not find an answer immediately, and that I should continue as I had, learning and thinking about what it was I had learned since my arrival here.

I aided her with some of her work after our lunch and asked her about what gods they worshiped within her clan.  Though they ultimately sought our lost Mother, they mostly paid their respects to Uvtarr-Omos, the god of travels and exploration, though they were often acknowledging several others as well, for there were many dangers and challenges on their journeys, and it was wise to keep many deities in mind.  I asked her what she knew of Lashana, and she told me that the Lady of Justice was perhaps too zealous at times, and far too strict with her practices for a free-roaming people like them, though her displeasure with the Empire was certainly well-placed and appreciated.

As evening approached, Satella returned and was brought to us.  She was welcomed as I had been, as had several others from the city throughout the day, I noticed, as they came to conduct some business or visit with a friend.  Emika bid us stay with them for the night, and so we did, mingling with others of the clan now, listening to more stories that were told that evening; though these were told mainly for the children, I was fully absorbed into them, for we had no such history or tales of our own in the Empire.  After dinner, there was more dancing and singing, and this time I was drawn into the festivities by members of the clan who insisted Satella and I dance with them.  Though it had been some time since I had danced, and their dances were different from those with which I was familiar, I remembered my training and quickly adapted, and found it rather amusing that Satella, for all her agility and knowledge of the Arts, struggled to keep up.

It was perhaps the most fun I’d had in my life, almost like every trouble was forgotten, at least for a short while, and for the very briefest of times, I had forgotten what it was like to be a slave.  I was so very glad Satella had been there to experience the night with me, and joined me in the tent we were given for the night.

#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 #125 – Muckenmyre Month #4 – Mayor Pleasence

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

I would find out after my awakening the following morning that I had been in the small room for a handful of days, that it was a bed in the town mayor’s home that I inhabited.  Throughout my recovery, Satella dutifully tended to me as my strength slowly returned.  During my stubborn insistence upon trying to care for myself, she was kind enough to let me try, and only stepped in once it was clear that I was still too weak to do more than walk about the room a time or two.  My wounds were healing cleanly, in spite of several places that had become infected, and now that my bones were set properly, with the aid of her goddess, I could move my body again.  Not normally, certainly, but that would return in time as I grew steadily stronger.

It was on the third day, late in the evening as the sun set, that I would finally meet the town mayor, Dannold Pleasence.  Satella prepared dinner as I continued the exercises that had once been second nature, but now seemed so exhausting, when the mayor returned.  As I would learn, he had been forced to leave town the day I had been brought in on some business to the north and had made the quick decision to allow Satella to use his home for my care.  I listened as he spoke quietly to Satella about my condition, could smell the strong odor of the swamp upon him as his sweaty scent drifted through the door. 

Much clearer of thought now that I had had time to process my situation, I wasted no more time and exited my room.  My immediate impression of the mayor was that he was something of a dour man, his shaven head bearing a few battle scars, one in particular which had remained after a strike had nearly taken his left eye, from the crown of his head to his jaw, his skin sun-worn and rough from age and a hard life.  He was in his middle years, but still had the strong body of a warrior and a laborer, and I saw his two-handed sword leaning in its scabbard by the outer door of the home. 

As he turned to address me, I immediately dropped to my knees and prostrated myself before him, begging his forgiveness at having imposed myself upon him in such a way, to express my sincere sorrow that a lowly slave such as myself had inconvenienced him so, and to thank him profusely for his kindness and generosity.  He was silent as I finished my outburst, but I dared not look up for fear of angering him, though I smelled a subtle change in his scent that told me he was more confused than anything, perhaps even embarrassed.  I got the impression he had looked to Satella for guidance in how to respond, but I could not say what her look had been.  I had done the same to her once I was strong enough, as was proper of a slave, but she had taken it in stride, insisting that it was no trouble, and for me not to worry myself over such things anymore.

After a long, awkward pause, the mayor finally managed to respond.  “That’s quite enough of that, my dear,” he said.  “You’re not in the Empire anymore, and I’ll not have that kind of behavior in my home, my town.”  As he approached, I expected him to kick me, or perhaps yank my hair so that he could deliver a firm slap to my face.  Instead, he guided me to my feet and brought me to the table in the dining area, even pulled the chair out and helped me to sit.  I was a little taken aback by this, to say the least, being unaccustomed to such treatment. 

Put somewhat off balance by this, my inquisitor’s instincts telling me to tread carefully for fear of a trap of some kind, I answered his questions honestly as Satella served our dinner, recounting why I had been aboard the doomed ship and what I recalled of my journey to Grimbridge.  He did not pry into my past much at all, didn’t even ask me as to the nature of my spiked collar and cuffs.  He knew I was a slave of course, but did not recognize the mark of the Stellae Illustris upon it; Satella had not mentioned it either, so perhaps they had no knowledge of what it meant?  He honestly seemed more concerned over the state of my body.  I assured him that Satella’s healing had worked well, and it was simply a matter of time before I was back to normal, but his concerns were of my old scars, specifically my slave brands, for they are upon both arms, and surrounded by deeper scarring. 

My brands are not unique, certainly, but are rarer amongst the kerryn slaves given my nature as not only a slave trainer buy as an inquisitor.  Most slaves will receive a magical brand upon the underside of their forearm marking them as property, showing who owns them at but a glance, given to them with little pain.  Mine were done not with magic, but heated metal, burning my owner’s insignia upon my flesh.  Some owners will still brand their slaves thusly if they have a taste for the sadistic.  I’ve had many owners in my life, and each time requires the old brands to be removed by peeling away the flesh, regrowing it anew through magical healing, and then reapplying the brand.  I hesitated to share this information, but for whatever reason, perhaps it was the compassion I felt from both he and Satella, I revealed the exact process, if not what it meant.  Satella was not fazed by this revelation, though Mayor Pleasence was…horrified.  My reassurances that such branding was not common did little to cure his unease, and I apologized immediately for upsetting him so; he barely touched his dinner after that, though he insisted that I had done nothing wrong.

He also insisted that an apology wasn’t needed, and that I wouldn’t need to worry about such treatment again.  When I inquired as to why, he stated that winter was upon them, and that the seas would be dangerous to traverse, even this far south.  Even if I wanted to return to the Empire, which, at the time, I certainly did, for it was my duty to serve the Emperor, may He live forever, I could not do so for several months, and it was his intention to teach me that kerryns were not slaves on this side of the world, whatever I may think of myself.

I could hardly believe it at that moment.  Kerryns free?  Not enslaved, as was proper?  How could that even be possible?  How could we be trusted with such freedom?  Surely there must be some kind of restrictions placed upon us? 

It made little sense to me.  Seemed absolutely reckless, dangerous even. 

Mayor Pleasence told me then that he would show me around town himself the following morning if Satella gave him the okay to do so.  She had no objections, had even picked out some clothing that would be more appropriate for me to wear.

My introduction to this strange new land would come on the morrow, for better or for worse. 

After dinner, when we had retired for the night, I held my collar again, ran my fingers over the rust-dulled spikes and thought of the Emperor, of home, of my life leading up to that fateful voyage to the Dragon Isles.  I had no true friends; slave trainers such as myself had no kerryns who would willingly associate with us, save those who were made to study under us, and only then in for the hope of gaining some form of power over our lesser slave-kin, and we were but tools for our masters to use. None in the Inquisition would call me friend; ally, perhaps, but certainly not friend. 

For the first time I began to have thoughts that would be considered treasonous for a Stellae Illustris, no, blasphemous, perhaps would be more accurate.  Who was the Emperor if not our god, and how could we possibly consider a life without being in his service?  How could a kerryn consider a life lived…free?

I did not sleep that night, did not realize that I had been so deep in thought until the first rays of the sun began to come through the window, the scent of early rain on the warm breeze that wafted through. 

#Lore24 – Entry #124 – Muckenmyre Month #3 – The Yurisayan Priestess

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

It took me a few moments in my confusion to register all of the details of the woman who had entered the room.  Very unbecoming of an Inquisitor, perhaps, but she had caught me at an uncharacteristically vulnerable moment.  I recognized the holy symbol that dangled from the leather collar about her neck immediately once I had come to some semblance of my senses, that of the Lady Yurisaya, worn as one who had dedicated themselves to the Dark Lady’s service would.  She was a shapely human woman, shorter than myself, though most humans are, her brown hair done up in a pair of tight buns atop her head, her eyes almond-shaped and a deep brown.  She wore a revealing black leather dress, somehow managing to win the battle against gravity by virtue of the size of the woman’s breasts and the strap that was secured above them, high slits in the dress revealing her muscular thighs.  She wore long leather gloves and thigh-length high heels, all in black, her boots marred only by signs of having traversed dirty streets.  Her scent was of some floral soap, sweat, leather, and something more familiar, that of blood.

I was familiar with the followers of Yurisaya, but her style of dress was unfamiliar, and though expectedly revealing, not like that of the priestesses seen throughout the Empire.  She bowed in greeting, her voice soft, compassionate as she introduced herself as Satella Schnyder.  I gave my name in turn, dipping my head as low as possible, keenly noting the lack of my collar, reverting back to the meek, deferential tone as was expected for a kerryn slave.  She came to the bedside, knelt in front of me and continued to smile up at me, taking my hand in her own as she began a prayer. 

Once her prayer had ended, she rose, still holding my hand, and sat beside me, looking at once sad and hopeful.  She began our conversation rather casually, expressing that she was pleased that she had arrived in Grimbridge in time to offer her aid to me, that Yurisaya herself had guided her to me to be my caregiver.  I couldn’t begin to understand why; what did the gods care about kerryn slaves?  We were forsaken, were we not, following our attempt to destroy the world by bringing demons upon it? 

She then told me that in order to heal my bones properly, we would be forced to break them again, that she was certain I had regained enough strength to handle the procedure without further complications, and that it would have to be performed soon.  I again meekly replied in the affirmative, for my slave’s mind had already assumed that this woman was to be my new owner, that she would have a new collar ready once I was fully recovered.  I won’t deny that a part of me absolutely cried out for the reassurance of a collar about my neck, of a hand holding my leash.  I would explain to her at a more appropriate time where my loyalties were, of course, and that perhaps there would be a reward for my return to the Emperor’s service, for surely she would not be interested in a slave such as myself.

But, for the time being, she asked if I was prepared for what must come, and I assured her that I was; I would not reveal that I could likely have healed myself just yet, for I had too little information about my situation, and could not know how she would react to a kerryn possessing magic.  Coaxing the collar from my hand before placing it back upon the nightstand, she had me stretch out upon the bed and began probing my partially healed bones with the touch of an expert healer.  Then, using techniques with which I am intimately familiar, she broke them again.  The agony was like a rush of fresh air, my brain finally coming free of the stupor that had consumed it upon my awakening.  I did not scream as my partially knit bones were once again shattered, barely even grunted; what were a few broken bones in the face of the tortures I had endured in my life?  Even the intense burning sensation of the goddess’s healing, known to be unpleasant to those not of the faith, was almost pleasurable now that my senses had recovered.

I could tell I had been weakened significantly by my ordeal, for the healing left me tired and on the verge of unconsciousness.  I barely remembered Satella leaving my side, if only for a few minutes, until she was suddenly there again, a fresh tray of food in hand.  She fed me, for I was suddenly too weak to do so myself, almost as if she were tending to a sick child.  Before she left me to rest, she returned my broken collar to my hands, clasping them around its tarnished form before tucking me in and leaving the room. 

I had only begun to ponder what strange fate I had been dealt when slumber came crashing upon me.  Though I had been distraught, the feel of my collar in my hands was nonetheless a welcome comfort.  I don’t recall having suffered any more nightmares while I slept, at least this time.

#Lore24 – Entry #123 – Muckenmyre Month #2 – Awakening Upon an Unfamiliar Bed

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

I have vague impressions of the times following the storms.  The seas were peaceful once more, perhaps within minutes following the sinking of our fleet.  I can recall the sunset as I lay upon the piece of shattered wreckage, too incoherent to attempt to free myself from the rigging.  I could tell I had many broken bones, that I still bled.  Pain is a constant companion for one such as I, and though I can deal with it far better than most, even I can become overwhelmed if it is great enough.

My next memory is perhaps of the following morning, or perhaps it was a day or more later; regardless, it is of the ship approaching, turning alongside the wreckage.  Ghostly images then, of the sailors cutting me free, hauling my shattered body aboard their ship.  I cannot remember their colors, only vague images.  I think I had began to hallucinate, perhaps I even had a fever as my body stubbornly refused to submit.

As they cared for me the best they could, perhaps only in the hopes of giving such a pitiful creature as merciful ending as they could, I dreamed.  Strange visions, likely caused by the fever that ravaged me, or perhaps it was the souls of those who were lost alongside me, coming back to try and draw me into the void alongside them. 

Perhaps the tormented screams I heard were my own; I had not screamed from inflicted physical pain in decades, so perhaps this was purely my own internal suffering given voice by the fever?  I have a vague remembrance of one sailor’s face, pale and terrified as he backed away from me.  What demons did I release during my lapse in control?  Perhaps I will never know.

It was sometime after this that I awoke on land, in an unfamiliar bed, in a strange room.  It was the morning sun beaming through the window that awoke me, the sound of distant thunder filling my ears, normal thunder, not that of the Dragons’ Fury.  Beneath the heavy aroma of healing poultices, I could smell odd scents, people I didn’t know, a land I had never been to before, the thick, sickening odor of the swamps.  Beyond the small room, I could hear the din of a busy town, the chatter of its people as they went about their lives.

For a wonder, I was not restrained, and I had survived the fever, though some of the visions within my mind will forever remain burned into my memory.  For a wonder, I was not bound, aside from the bandages that were wrapped around my various wounds.  I could immediately feel the pain in my bones, knew immediately that some had begun to knit crookedly. 

I then realized that I was naked.  Not for lack of clothes, for I had been covered in a simple linen smock that smelled faintly of dust and age.  No, someone had removed my collar and cuffs, the spiked steel that marked me as not only a slave but a trainer of slaves, the metal that had been sealed upon my body for over a century, perhaps never to be removed.  As I breathed faster and became more aware of the place I found myself, I realized that I could not feel their reassuring weight, could not feel the internal spikes that constantly pricked and pinched at my flesh, their reassuring touch that signified that I was property of the Inquisition, of the Emperor’s most loyal Stellae Illustris.  Perhaps in another few decades I may have even earned the privilege of wearing a mythril version of them, that I would have become a full-fledged slave knight as a reward for my loyalty. 

To my horror, as I forced myself to rise from the bed, my body protesting with fresh pain that sharpened my senses, though I made not a sound, I saw my cuffs and my collar sitting on the nightstand by the bed, the metal ravaged by rust and sea salt, their once welded clasps broken and newly melted in order to remove them.  Panic filled me, for it was not allowed that a slave of my position ever allow their collar and other adornments to show such lack of care.  I reached simultaneously for my collar and my neck, wincing as the broken arm I extended to the collar refused to move as I had intended it to, the fingers of my other hand finding my throat, bare but for the bandages. 

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed then, gritting my teeth against the pain of a shattered femur and broken ribs and picked up the spiked collar once I could finally reach it.  My tail twitched anxiously as I stared at the broken, rusted steel, my mind struggling to come up with some way that I could fix it, some way that I could atone for the offense of going uncollared, that I would dare disrespect my Emperor in such a way.

That was when I heard the sound of heels crossing the wooden floor, then that door opened, revealing a human woman, wearing a most curious smile upon her face.  It would be some time before I understood what her smile indicated.  At that moment, I was simply too distraught over the loss of my adornments to process matters.

I may have even had tears in my eyes.