3. Unsorted texts, excerpts and notes of the life of a Red Pawn

Unsorted texts, excerpts and notes of the life of a Red Pawn


  • _[…]The surface of a pond in the forest without the slightest disturbance. Not a wave, not a shake, not a tremble. Currents flow within without altering its harmony, its homogeneity, its flawless layer of crystal water, unbroken, untouched.

    Images begin to form upon it. They are tangible, palpable. All five senses can feel. A scene of General Neverith's death, stabbed in the back by Marcus Ash, plays itself. It now shakes those pure waters, spiking the surface in acute shapes that express pain, anger, sorrow. The images play in motion, lingering as they incorporate themselves into the pond. They float, struggle, and then they sink into its depths. The calm returns.

    Another image, this time a boat. A trip through the waters, the arrival to a city in the north. A welcome, a statue of a wolf.

    A tower. A deception. Bears that rattle like bone against steel, statues that turn to flesh. Two fey, too chaotic, too unpredictable.

    Dark tunnels, foul smell. Winged creatures of death. More steel rattling against bone, conflict. Giant creatures of acid form a wall. A kiss. Some kind of contraption causes great disturbances on the pond's surface. But it too sinks.

    A dragon, greater than any other. Dark scales, darker heart, but wise eyes. It roars, spills acid and fire. Then it lays down accepting and begins to sink quietly.

    The whole pond now shakes violently. A chained balor demon wears a crown of fire, it rages, it burns, it lashes out as it breaks its chains. There is much struggle, it begins to diminish, but Yuan-ti appear. Spellcasters, assassins. They reignite the demon's fury. It can not be stopped. Too strong, too fast, too furious.

    A gentle giant, its body of myrkandite and adamantine. Its heart of gold. Rocky. It stops the flaming devourer of worlds. Crushes it stone against stone and grinds it. The demon throes. Too much primordial hate contained into it. It is going to explode. It will end it all. But Rocky swallows it whole, and then goes quiet, still. The pond's waters sadden, they do not shake, but tremble in sorrow. The gentle giant sinks as well, melds into the depths of the pond, becomes part of it, as everything else. The utter stillness returns to the surface of the pond in the forest without the slightest disturbance.

    Not a wave, not a shake, not a tremble. Currents flow within without altering its harmony, its homogeneity, its flawless layer of crystal water, unbroken, untouched.

    She opens her eyes.[…]_


  • […]In front of her, the Order's Master. The old man wore only a red tunic, wrapped around his body with the help of a white shash. A very similar attire to her own. Despite their ages showing an immense contrast, the picture emanated only harmony as they sat facing each other. Their bodies still, bathed into the utter silence of the chamber. Their souls in motion, reaching out. What seemed to be a regular session of meditation, was Shallyah's examination in the path of balance between her body and her spirit. More than a trial, or a test - Shallyah would have to prove with a few words that she had a fundamental grasp on that which trascends the world, and the true understanding of her meaning to be.

    • Nissaya-muttaka. - The old Master adressed Shallyah, as the young warrior-monk bowed her head in respect - Luang pho.

    • What do you feel? - spoke the Master.

    • Only good things. - answered the white-haired woman.

    The Master caressed his long beard as his eyes, severe, but shining with the wisdom of age pierced into the white-haired woman's - Answer then. What do you seek here?

    The familiar question hit the young woman's mind, reverberating in her thoughts as she attempted to absorb the impact to respond to what seemed a simple question, with what seemed a simple answer - Silence.

    The Master nodded once, very slowly - Have you found what you sought?

    • I have.

    • What is your next step? - the questions followed one after another, without offering a break. To any outsider, it would appear a casual conversation, but there were layers beyond layers in the communication maintained there. Shallyah kept her mind still, unwavering as the apparently simple questions lashed at her - I must now seek noise.

    • To what end?

    • To preserve it.

    At this point, the master's severe gesture relaxed slightly as he nodded once again - From this moment and on, you are no longer nissaya-muttaka, to become majjhima. You will leave this temple now, and you will be known here only as Snowed War Lotus.

    Go. Find the noise and preserve it. That is your task.

    Shallyah stood and bowed her head to the Master. Not a word was spoken as she left the chamber to immediately gather her belongings and hit the roads. A long way back to Peltarch awaited.


  • _[…]and as much as her life, both professional and personal had been successfull so far, during the last few months she had had an uneasy feeling incomodating her ever so subtly, but surely.

    Although her work for Peltarch was being rewarding both at tangible and spiritual levels - she had been promoted to Sergeant, and given a Commendation for Valour and Exemplary Service, all while doing what she was taught and what she knew best, preserving the life of the innocent and thwarting the perpetrator - the recent announcement for Peltarch's elections had awakaned in her one old worry that she had chosen to ignore for a long time. The city to which she had given an oath of loyalty was still subject to the whim of a few people that sat behind high desks, disconnected from the real problems of their people, and probably disconnected from the world in which they lived itself. Hidden from battles, trading influences and buying votes - some with coin and favours, others with charming smiles and mighty speeches - people to which citizens were generally regarded to as faceless numbers. Senators, as they were called in this land.

    And that was not all. As she saw the list of candidates, some of which she knew and had heard of, she realized how little she actually knew of the already current senators at that time, and it reminded her of how, at one point, she could find herself forced to protect with her life or follow the orders of someone of tainted heart, selfish, or ill-minded in a way that she could not avoid without either breaking her oath to Peltarch, or violating her codes and principles. And both ideas were inacceptable. A conflict that had one simple solution. Simple, but not easy.

    She had to avoid the conflict before it was encountered by either giving up on the Code of the Warrior and her principles, or giving up on her oath to Peltarch. She could not bear the thought of meeting that conflict while she was still sworn and loyal to both ideals, and having to choose one to betray the other. She knew that would likely send her in a path of dishonor and shame without possibility for redemption.

    The political lull in which Peltarch had been for years had ended, and in times of change, one must adapt to survive.

    That is the Law of Life.[…]_


  • _[…]And as Sir Allestor, Lady Ashena and Talindra left the temple, Shallyah had a perfect opportunity to find a quiet spot near the door where Carol was being held, to sit down and reflect upon the day's events. To perform her usual reverie to rest not her body, but her soul.

    It was the first day in a few tendays that she had been allowed to leave confinement to fight those with a rotten heart. But much as their hearts were rotten, their deaths added to Shallyah's burden, like every life she had taken ever before, like every life she'd take ever after. That being the case, amongst her prayers she spoke one of forgiveness.

    Red Knight, lady of lucid minds and righteous purposes, I ask forgiveness.
    Lady of Strategy, whose waves wear down army and fortress, wash the blood of the defeated from this one's hands as she seeks to be worthy of finding the distant shore of the infinite spirit.
    My lady, this one's heart is pure, but beset by wickedness and contention. Guide her where the the good soul never suffers, where the innocent one never cries, where the just one never bears chains.
    Guide this one, my lady, so she may continue to be a companion to you, as she is to her arms.

    She felt as a wave of inner warming light cleansed her soul with good karma, relieving her burden just enough so that she could continue fighting for what she believed right, without ever falling into dissidia or routine when taking the lives of her foes. In battle, all she could offer was quick and painless death. Afterwards, only by being mindful of how precious was every life she took, albeit their souls dark and wicked, she could keep herself from ever misstepping and falling into dark paths so often walked by tyrants.

    The last few days had been trying, and as she had barely slept to fight back and retake her own self from the vile tendrils of the mind-meddling villain, she had found herself exhausted and worn out.

    But she was winning that battle, and where a few days back she was chained to a column with her hands and feet restrained, she now guarded on her own the door to Carol's cell, greataxe in hand. Her mind filled with resolve and determination; her conscience at peace, immaculate; her soul ready to face another day[…]_


  • _[…]It was the hour before dawn when Shallyah opened her eyes and could be glad that she was still herself, as far as she could tell. She felt her back sore as tiredness had her fall asleep on the cold floor the night before, leaning against the stone column to which she was chained. She tugged a little from her chains to sit in lotus position, except her hands had to be kept together rested next to her feet, due to the heavy and tight iron cuffs she was bearing.

    Her grey eyes then began to take full awareness of her sorroundings. The bed where she was supposed to rest was a mere two feet from where she was sitting. A sturdy and ample bed, well suited for a warrior and a knight's rest, with a footlocker next to it for one to deposit her belongings for the night. A bit further along the chamber there was another column similar to the one where she was chained, and over yonder another bed similar to the first, this one with Sir Allestor on it, as he was taking his well deserved rest.

    About ten yards from her and to her right there were a few couches and chairs arranged to roughly face each other, a placid setup to maintain conversations, although at this time all of them laid empty with the exception of one of the couches. Tiredness had also taken its toll on the First Swordarm of the Order, Lady Ashena, as she laid back on the couch, using a cushion as pillow. The petite, beautiful woman had more than one reason to remain there, as besides being the Knight to which Shallyah was squired, at this time she was also her Guardian of sorts, in charge of making sure that the white-haired warrioress could do no harm to anyone.

    Shallyah let her head rest back against the column, shutting her eyes briefly and taking a deep breath to then open them again, as she remembered something and looked quickly around herself. She found a peculiar bag of chocolates with a symbol of Sharess on it, and next to it a piece of board and chalk. For a moment that reminded her too how sad it was that in her current state it was too risky to even allow her to have a quill pen, but all the same she dismissed the thought quickly and bended down to pick the piece of board the best she could manage, to lay it over her legs. Then she bended down again to pick the chalk, and then alll that remained was finding a way to be able to write with the chalk on the board. This proved more difficult as her handcuffs were also chained to her ankle cuffs, and the length of the chain was just long enough to allow her to walk straight with her hands under her waist level. But she raised her knees towards her chest, lifting the piece of board along and letting the chain rest between her legs. This put the board within distance for her to scribble on it with the chalk, while keeping her wrists within range from her ankles.

    As it happened, Sir Ky'Amendos had received a message while deep in his prayers, an omen that spoke about demons attacking Norwick, and he had communicated this to Cecil. Cecil obviously wished to be as prepared as he could possibly be, being a warrior without talent for divine or arcane gifts. And so Cecil had thought that Shallyah, in sharing this magic-less condition with Cecil and having vast experience battling demons, could offer valuable advice.

    At that moment Shallyah felt that sometimes the smallest things can mean the world. In her state, she was delighted to find that she could still be of use to someone, for some worthy cause. When Cecil asked, she felt extremelly thankful to him because he could give her purpose, and she grew eager to fullfill his request. Sir Allestor had offered to allow Shallyah some writing tools, and he had honored his word by laying them next to her before he went to sleep the night before.

    The first lights of the morning would soon enter the room through the glass windows, and she was ready to begin her work. The scribbling process would be slow and clumsy with that chalk, board and uneasy position, and she knew about many diferent types of demons she had encountered and studied. But for better or for worse, it appeared that she'd have more than enough time for it.[…]_


  • […]and they were concepts that she could not understand, even though she could recognize and point them out whenever she saw them. As part of my research, I came across a scroll left by Shallyah herself, when she still used that name. These are some interesting notes worth sharing for the purpose of this book.

    @e08c1da848:

    What is Love?

    Answer to this enigma yet dodges my best attempts to grasp it. I look at definition of this word at College's library, and this is what I get:

    "A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person."

    However, this definition lacks substance and closure. And it lacks meaning, if I am to compare it with definitions of it from those I know that experience it, and describe it to me. It is my belieft that this feeling, appearing generally possitive is tremendously overstated and oversold. Many are negative drawbacks of Love, which can lead to death of afflicted one or those who sorround her, along with sustained anguish, sorrow, pain, dissidia and other emotional disorders. When further questioned, Love is often referred to as 'be all, end all' undebatable argument, it appears to be generally accepted as mysterious, mystical uncontrollable force that acts as it pleases.

    This does not have purpose in sating my necessity to know and understand it. Furthermore, it does not have any solid base of argumentation as to what it might really be, and how does it act. Because all things in existance can be explained, Love can be no diferent. If I ask and I am told "Love simply is", how can I settle for such answer? I can accept it as much as I could accept asking about Gravity, and being told "Gravity simply is".

    Using this analogy, I have come to agree that not all forces may have to fall under our control, as such is case of Gravity. But it is certainly possible to understand Gravity and learn its laws, and even if most mortals aren't capable of changing how it acts or even escape from being subject to it, we can adapt our lives around it, or even use it to further our goals in situations where it is morally correct to do so. This is, in short, what I wish of Love.

    I shall continue my studies, and update this scroll with further developments. May my mind stay sharp as my steel as I let it pour into my senses. And may Lady of Lanceboard grant me wisdom in this ordeal.

    Shallyah, while allowing herself to be penetrated by this feeling she thought alien and unpredictable, she referred to it as an 'ordeal'. But was her thirst for knowledge so powerful as to go through ordeals for it? Or was she actually finding this feeling appealing while not being honest to herself about it? For now, it does not matter, because it was not until later in her life that she would resolve her dilemma.[…]


  • _[…]She had returned from her annual pilgrimage to The Retreat, where as usual, she had prefered to watch and listen in solitude. However, this year she could not help to partake in some of the dicussions held as a group of strategists of the Lady of the Lanceboard spoke closeby, and she felt the uncontainable need to chime in with her own views.

    To her surprise, her voice was welcome and she was asked to join the group, where they debated strategies and ideas all afternoon. Shallyah found she enjoyed that day profoundly, and learned immensely from it.

    But then she was back in the land of Narfell, with the intent of applying that newly gained knowledge to the advantage of what she considered right. In her pilgrimages to both The Retreat and the Queen's Gambit, she had found that many of the other strategists had a more neutral stance on matters, and that sometimes she may have lacked that neutral objectivity to make judgement. However, she did not wish to change that.

    Narfell could not afford to be judged neutrally, because the lines between right and wrong grew extremelly thin at times. In Shallyah's mind, Narfell needed warriors who can fight for a cause, sometimes overlooking the smallest details and replacing them with faith. Faith in the human race, and its allies.

    And it was not a tenday after her return from her pilgrimage that she had met one of these situations in which her faith in humanity was tested. It all began when a couple of goblins blew Norwick's gate off, in what appeared the regular goblin hit-and-run tactic, or preparation for a bigger assault.

    However, one of the goblins was caught and interrogated. The goblin appeared to be shaking in fear as he explained with detail how his comrades had been murdered one after another with all maner of stratagems, and how they, thinking Norwick guilty of these attacks, had armed themselves with the little valor that a goblin is capable of to go out with a bang. But it seemed that the culprit of these attacks on goblins had been one kobold who had the habit of dragging goblinoid corpses to Norwick's gates, so the goblin found disappointed that his efforts for vengeance had been missdirected.

    Shallyah had watched and heard the goblin with mixed feelings of pity and mercy as it was eventually decided to allow the goblin to leave. The little creature was definitely not an example of Goodness, but he had acted only out of fear and sorrow for his fallen partners, only in reaction to a prior major offense, as it was the assassination of many of his comrades and friends.

    However, just after the goblin ran back to his home, a Norwick Scout appeared at the gates and managed to notice what happened - Norwick Scouts were well known for incompetence, less than an explossion and a missing front gate would have not sufficed to alert one. After the events were explained to him, he decided to organize a hunting party to goblin territory.

    This is where the conflict hit Shallyah's mind. In theory, there was no wrong in eliminating some vermin from the forest to prevent their numbers from growing and eventually being capable of swarming the town. But in this instance, had the goblins done anything to deserve such brutal retaliation? Are the actions of a single goblin that acted out of fear and sorrow for the fallen, enough to condemn their whole settlement? Hearing some of the voices of the locals, outright spiteful and racist, Shallyah found that peace between Norwick and the goblinoids would never exist.

    Goblinoids may not be creatures capable of putting the past behind them to achieve peace, one could think. But Norwick appeared even less so. Shallyah had decided to not join this hunt because something in her conscience told her it was not right, and instead she guarded the gaping hole at Norwick's walls, protecting the town from a possible retaliation that could endanger innocent families within Norwick.

    The hunters returned a few hours later, singing and cheering, appearing proud of their actions, which consisted of burning a section of the forests where the goblins lived. No goblin child would have been spared by the devouring flames, but they celebrated these deeds the better part of the evening, toasting in glorious victory.

    But was it a victory?

    To them, it may have looked like they had won. But to Shallyah, a sting in her conscience told her that in that day, humanity had lost[…]._


  • The Warrior

    _The white haired woman held the familiar piece of jewelry, observing it for a moment as its blue gem glittered dimly in testament of its contained power. She tucked it away to immediately take a quiver of frost-tipped arrows from the relic cache and sling it over her shoulder as she headed in her way out.

    As she strutted past the dead bodies of a hundred ogres, a thought struck her. It was the first time she had gone to that place on her own, which wasn't very wise one could say, yet she had barely found struggle to reach the relics of the final chamber. With the use of her impecable tactical maneuvers and combat skills the ogres did not stand a real chance.

    It was then that she realized that she had reached the excellence she had been pursuing. While she had been almost obsessed in trying for her body to become one with her weapon, it was her body that became a weapon in itself, forging an even deeper bond. Her body had become one not only with her weapon, but with her mind and her soul.

    She was capable of dodging storms of fireballs, dismissing the strongest attempts to charm or dominate her mind, or completely disregarding the most virulent poisons that existed in Toril and beyond. She was purity and wholeness, her body still virgin, her mind still untouched by corruption, and while made of flesh and bone as everyone else, she had met heights that she never throught at her reach a mere couple of years earlier. However, she refused to think that she had achieved any goal. She was only twenty-two that spring, and a long life laid ahead still.

    But in the other hand, she saw signs that she could not ignore. Pit Fiends had been returned to the Hell whence they came under her Frost Claw, ancient dragons had been knocked down and bent to her might, and the Underdark was just part of a weekly routine training. She sought challenges, met them, and more often than not, defeated them. Even in the only time in which she fell, when she tasted sour and bitter defeat to the bugbears in Norwick, she quickly learned her lesson to rise stronger than before.

    And all of this had not affected in the least the way she served her duties. Still a mere private for the army of Peltarch, she took orders from those far weaker and less skilled than her, and executed them always respecting rank, like clockwork, humble and dutiful.

    She was aware that she had many flaws especially outside of the battlefield, but she had also finally accepted herself as she is. In times past she had attempted to change what she was, to allow emotions into her under the advice of people that she respected. But emotions such as fury or passion had only made her feel vulnerable, and made her lose control of the situation at hand. At the moment those emotions contained certain allure, but passed the moment they only left emptiness and regret which she had promised herself to never allow again.

    If she felt sorrow she did not bend to it not because of steel-nerved determination, but because she knew her purpose was greater than her feelings. If she felt fear she dismissed it not because of outstanding bravery, but because the Warrior Code, and not any poison of the mind, dictated her actions. If she had to push or retreat, flank or stand, run or leap, kill or die, it was because at every moment she would judge free of influence, in her hard trained, perpetual clear-mind state, what was the best course of action.

    For some Shallyah had become the ultimate soldier. For others she was no more than a heartless tool programmed for battle. Some saw art in watching her deadly dance of war. Others pitied her and believed her simple minded, void and empty, never to be trusted.

    But Shallyah never cared to be liked or to be accepted. That was irrelevant to her. She did not wish to be welcome in parties or weddings. But she knew she would be welcome in tactical missions and battles. And that is all that mattered.

    Because for Shallyah, being the Warrior was not her passtime, and it was not her profession.

    Being the Warrior is her way of life._


  • _The orange hue in the sky announced the coming of the dusk, only disturbed by a few loose white clouds, caressed by the cold breeze in their celestial traverse. At the horizon, the fiery king of the sky slowly bid farewell with the promise of returning as below that majestic ceiling, the Vaasan tundra prepared for one more night of frost as it received the last rays of indulgence from the parting celestial orb. In this time of the year, the white snow had not yet taken full grip of the land, and a winding river scarred across the grassy fields, whimpering as it flowed, slowly, but surely. Barely reflected in those waters, a woman stood nearby in full crimson armor adorned with symbols of the Nars, but of ages far in the past. In her left hand, she gripped firmly what she would call her battle axe, but the common tongue baptismed as great axe, to diferenciate from her smaller syblings. Just as the land, the axe was cold, with its perpetually chilled blade. Just as the axe, the warrioress was cold, with her perpetual grey eyes. Eyes that looked into another's.

    In front of her, Koaresh Rethshinei, putative father and mentor. It had been five years since they had parted, and the little sixteen years old project of a Warrior that Shallyah was, had now become a full fledged Battle Maiden. Koaresh attempted not to show much pride in his eyes as he looked back at her.

    Yet Shallyah had not come that far for just a visit. They had agreed when they parted, that they would keep distance so that Shallyah could develop her own life and know the world as it would come to her. However, Shallyah wished for advice, to know if, in her mentor's eyes, she was being worthy.

    After spending a few hours catching up, explaining every detail that she remembered of these years, Koaresh took in his hand the Warrior's Code, and recited it to Shallyah. She was to say if she thought she had been following that part of the code. Koaresh was to show her what she should do to improve it.

    A Warrior is Honesty

    [Shallyah:] Have I been honest? Yes, I have. Sometimes I avoid being honest to be correct, but… is that being dishonest, or just being polite? Who marks frontier?

    [Koaresh:] You need to speak less, Shallyah. Speak more with your weapon, with your body, with your actions. Words flow with the wind, and are carried away. You are owner of your silence, but slave of your words.

    Shallyah commited herself to attempt to keep being honest, but speak her thoughts only when strictly necessary, and whenever possible, allow her actions to speak instead of her lacking tact with words.

    A Warrior is Respect

    Do I respect everyone? My equals, and my superiors? My foes? Those I like as much as those I don't? Yes, I do. Or… not all of them. How can I respect murderers of innocents, or purposeful law-breakers? How can I respect greedy and arrogant? How can I respect disrespectful? I can not.

    But you must. Ill feelings only cloud judgement, and make you flawed. Without respect, you can not be Just. Do you wish to be Just, Shallyah, or do you wish to be blind? Respect, Shallyah, and you shall be respected.

    Shallyah nodded to herself. Respect is basic to objective judgement. For she was a Warrior and often saw herself in situations where she had to administer quick Justice, she commited herself to not let emotions derivated from spite or lack of respect to cloud her judgement before things as important as deciding between a sentient being's life and death.

    A Warrior is Honor

    I honor my partners, and honor my foes. I never break my word, and I never fault principles I have been taught.

    Yes. But that is scratching the surface. Let it root within. Do not think of acting with honor. Become Honor.

    Shallyah found inspiration in this thought. She became determined.

    A Warrior is Loyalty

    I am loyal. To my friends, to my duties, to my city, and to my principles. But what is it to be loyal, to aid them in all they ask, or to change them to be better than they are? If I allow a friend into imperfect ways, and if I support them, am I not assisting them in their sinking? Am I not being disloyal?

    Being loyal is accepting something as it is, and following its cause till the end. You do not change someone or something, and mold it to your own image, or your ideal of what is best for them. That is not being loyal, that is being tyrant. You can, however, choose who you are loyal to. Be loyal only to those who earn your loyalty.

    Shallyah thought that she would not become a tyrant, but that from then and on, she'd be more careful choosing her loyalties.

    A Warrior is Benevolence

    I do not know if I am benevolent. I only know what feels right and what doesn't. I try to help those in need, sometimes have given gold or food to poor people and aided diseased ones where my skills were sufficient.

    Being benevolent is knowing and accepting. Knowing, and accepting. Giving gold to the poor may clean your conscience, to feel that somehow that will remove the blood of those you defeated in combat off your hands, but it is not benevolence. Benevolence needs to be in every of your actions, not in parting with some gold you don't need once a month. That is not benevolence, that is tipping.

    This caused certain doubt in Shallyah. She looked at her hands, and imagined them filled with blood. Then she thought as if she was attempting to wash that blood with gold pieces, and saw it would not work. Then she imagined her hands being washed with spiritual light of benevolence and good karma. Her hands began to wash, then.

    A Warrior is Courage

    I fight with courage, and act with courage. I do not let down those who fight alongside me.

    Yes. You are Courage, Shallyah, in the battlefield. But outside of it, you flicker and avoid anything that can make you vulnerable. You have feelings for people you have never dared to confess. You have felt things you do not dare to admit, and prefer to wave them off as if they were mistakes, or had not happened. You are afraid to become close to anything or anyone, because you are afraid of loss, and of being hurt. And that makes you a coward.

    This created the greatest conflict yet in Shallyah's mind. She did not know if she was ready to show courage outside of the battlefield. Perhaps she would just stick to the battlefield, then.

    A Warrior is Rectitude

    I try to be Just, and never take lives without reason. I follow Warrior's code and by it I administer Judgement within my limited capacity to understand what is right and what isn't.

    Yes, and the intent is good. Rectitude is reached through Honesty, Respect, Honor, Loyalty, Benevolence, and Courage. Keep that in mind, and Rectitude will come in your actions and yourself. Be a worthy Warrior, and you will be Just.

    It was already dark when they finished, and Shallyah seemed to understand then that she was in the good direction, but she had been taking side paths that weren't the true one. The rest of the night was spent in relaxed and casual talk with her mentor and first master, to then get some rest. Next day, she had to part back towards the land of Narfell, with the determination of bettering herself._


  • _The conflict had kept growing in her mind as she sat in meditation.

    Joy and sadness, trust and disgust, fear and anger, surprise and anticipation. It was clear that she knew them, but the lockout in her mind had been held so long, that they merely bruised her for an imperceptible instant before disappearing into nothing, dispelled, dissipated.

    But she was being told to allow those feelings to pour in and pour out. To dismantle all that adamant caparace that she had learned to live with, that had become natural to her. Her friends, her allies, and her masters, all wished Shallyah to open herself. But how do you open a building with no doors or windows?

    Shallyah was aware of it, and had made an attempt at allowing her emotions and more mundane feelings to surface after her master asked her to, for she was told that only then she could take her journey to the spiritual world that she sought. However, every smile, every physical contact, every unnecessary display of prowess or skill came with effort and it possibly was viewed as unnatural by those around her.

    But for a few moments, she felt free. She felt that she had taken a leap to a new world full of new opportunities and dangers. That also scared her, and made her feel vulnerable. And it was exciting. At first she rejected the experience, but once she let some of those feelings touch her, she felt pulled into a stream of emotions that were diverse and varied, that at times caressed her, and another times pulled her violently. That sometimes made her feel good, and sometimes less good. That she no longer had full control over.

    Perhaps that is what it was about. Perhaps viewing the world as a stream of analyzable and explicable data was not enough. She realized that whether that was the case or not, how could she know it? Being so young, and having known no other way, how could she be so sure that what she was doing was best? When she became adult and was released she was told to go out and visit other worlds, and in them find her own path, and make her own choices. She had only been asked to be honorable and just to those worlds she touched, and to never take more than she gave.

    So far she had known only one way to look at life. Perhaps it was the time to try another, so she could judge what is good and bad of it, and so she could decide which is best. Or perhaps find a middle point between both.

    The shift would possibly be slow, and take much effort, but as Shallyah stood up that day after her meditation session, she felt lighter and nimbler, for heavy chains had been left behind. Chains made of ideas, concepts and thoughts that had anchored her into what she was, and disallowed her from progressing and moving in any other direction.

    Now there was much room in her mind to be filled with new ideas, concepts and thoughts. And for the first time, that building had doors, and windows._


  • […]_Her young mind was receptive, but perhaps not as much as she thought. Her recent talk with Ashena, who had been clear and honest to her, let her see that. She needed to make further efforts. Not only be ready to listen and learn, but also be ready to unlearn what she had learned before.

    Her new life wasn't as her previous, there were infinite aspects of it that had changed. Every interaction cost her an effort, a restrain, a trial to her senses and personality that she did not often solve in the most satisfactory way.

    The old man that had taken her as apprentice had tried to make her exteriorize her emotions. He knew she could feel everything, from rage to sorrow, from pain to joy. He knew she was made of flesh and not stone, that she had heart, and lungs and blood, not cogs and wheels and oil as a clockwork mechanism.

    But a very strong lock had been placed in her head. Every emotion and feeling was deflected and discarded after merely rubbing her thoughts, like light rain on an adamant shell. Who made her so had in mind turning her into a perfect weapon, and thank the gods, one to the service of good causes. But if she lost her humanity, what then, made her human?[…]

    […]Shallyah could count herself fortunate once again, for one by the name of Yana came into her life. Because fate is whimsical, Shallyah first heard of her while actually seeking someone else. Maya, one regarded as a hero of the land who was proficent in the use of the Great Axe, Shallyah's weapon of choice. And who happened to be Yana's adoptive mother.

    In a first contact, Shallyah had asked Yana for her mother, but the elf had told her that she could not be found, having been seen leaving into the mountains and never returning. However, soon Shallyah's interest turned to Yana herself.

    The young looking elf had deep grasp on something that Shallyah had been questing for. The understanding, the knowledge, the harnessing and utilizing of Ki. The warrioress felt the urge to ask, and found that she enjoyed and treasured every second of conversation with Yana.[…]

    […]It was then that Yana and Shallyah met again, in the festivities known as Fight Night. The ashen haired warrioress had always enjoyed testing her skills against other warriors of diferent diciplines, and had even seen herself victorious in some of these events. But that night, the story would be diferent.

    The warrioress had won the final round, but Yana entered as last minute contestant. Shallyah bowed her head as ever, bidding her respect to her rival at that moment, and to the patch of ground that would be their temporary battleground. Then the fight began.

    The result was as uneven as revealing. The blonde elf began to move almost supernaturally. Her awareness, her speed, her technique… she superated Shallyah in every aspect. By the time Shallyah's knee met the dusty ground, she had not managed to touch Yana once.[…]

    […]by the south gates, and she approached her. Shallyah explained how she did not just want to find a new tool for war. Shallyah wanted to feel complete. She wanted to harness and master her inner energies as much as she could harness and master her Great Axe. She knew that without the one, she could never truly reach the other. Her equilibrium was at fault, and she knew it.

    Then Yana offered Shallyah to become her Ki master. To teach her some of the things she knew, to help her out in her quest. Offer which Shallyah accepted eagerly. But as every great lesson, it would not be learned in one day. And it all had to begin from the beginning, step by step.[…]_


  • […]_everywhere. The two decided for tactical withdrawal, fighting off the creatures as they lurked down walls and up chasms, joining the fray.

    As they backed off towards the tunnel opening, two more large beasts followed by two more of the magic-feasting creatures cut their retreat. The ashen haired girl used her axe to polevault over the smaller ones, while the redhead took advantage of the confussion this caused on the enemies as they broke the barrier they had created to slip through them.

    The fight was heated, deadly in every step. The magic-feasting creatures fell one after another, the larger ones with adaptive skin kept on the chase, also suffering casualties. But for each one that was defeated, two more took their place. It wasn't a battle that could be won, not in the traditional way of standing one's ground till there is nothing else to fight.

    Fighting back against back as they backed off towards the more familiar section of the underdark, they found a yet greater threat. A magical aberration, the kind that one is best to only ever read about in books, one that would be commonly known as tyrant eye, or beholder.

    At the sight of the creature, all the other beasts halted their assault on the two warriors of the Red Knight. The aberration seemed to be in a mood, and offered distasteful and mocking chat, such as deciding out loud what would it do with the two women after finishing them.

    Being disciplined and intelligent warriors as they were, the tandem saw an opportunity. The ashen haired one simply walked away while the red haired one gave evasive responses to the tyrant eye, feeding him with words that it would answer with more words without provoking immediate hostility. The vile creature, thinking itself superior while it followed, had just become an unknowing bodyguard. Dozens of deadly creatures lurked in the darkness, red eyes watching hungrily from the shadows, like vultures that know they will feast soon, and all they have to do is wait at distance until the time is right.

    But the seconds passed and the odd conversation continued when the two women and the beholder were reaching the exit of the deep tunnels. It was then that the aberration made a comment on how it would just follow them, and be led to innocent humanoids to torture and feast on. That was the chosen moment, when with a simple nod to each other, the two warioresses flanked the terror creature, which caught unaware because of its overinflated ego, could but attempt to shoot a few of its deadly beams in random directions. Two of them were close to connecting on the axe warrioress, though she dodged them nimbly. Two others did connect on the battle bard, but her body was blessed and resilient as few others, and she suffered no ill effects. After a mere five seconds, the tyrant eye was laying on a pool of its own fluids, as a large axe was being pulled out of its main eye, now split in two halves.

    However, there was no time for basking at this victory, for with the beholder dead, the other creatures dared to return to claim their preys so they could feast on their bodies and magical trinkets. The exit was mere few hundred yards away, but more magic-feasting creatures kept lurking, crawling and getting in the way to their escape. The two backed once again against each other as they advanced, their bodies sore and tired as they kept fighting off the creatures that attacked in groups of three and four, seeming like there was no end to them[…]_


  • _"Discipline and Concentration, Shallyah.

    Focus on your target, be aware of the battlefield and its elements, analyze your foe. Flow with battle, adapt to battle. Do not be predictable. Fight on, take your chances. Exclude the world beyond you, your allies, your foe and the battlefield. Eliminate all which does not aid you in victory, all which hinders your ability to succeed. Pain is an illusion of the senses, despair is an illusion of the mind. So disbelieve them."

    The warrioress brushed some snow off her hair, continuing her training in the snowy Rawlinswoods as her father's words repeated themselves in her head. She had been going for hours.

    "Discipline and Concentration."

    Another swing, another leap, another spin, she practiced the techniques that she would use. But she was swinging at air and trunks. She had been training so many hours. Her body was at its physical limits, weary and bruised. Her mind asked her to stop, to take a rest.

    "Pain is an illusion of the senses. Despair is an illusion of the mind."

    She focused, took another swing. Every movement fine and calculated. She did not swing her axe brutally and wildly like most orcs or barbarians. In every swing, she projected her own mind, her own thoughts, her own emotions. As she had been taught, as she had been learning.

    "A Warrior is Honesty.
    A Warrior is Respect.
    A Warrior is Honor.
    A Warrior is Loyalty.
    A Warrior is Benevolence.
    A Warrior is Courage.
    A Warrior is Rectitude.

    A true warrior is master of her senses and her mind and knows how to wield them to her convenience, just as her weapon. And her weapon is, as her senses and mind, part of herself."

    The ashen haired woman gritted her teeth as every lesson was reminded to her. She took another swing._