3. The Secret Life of Shalia Decauteur

The Secret Life of Shalia Decauteur

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    Journal Entry II

    It’s been sometime since I’ve written in my journal, but I thought it best to write in it again, what with all the changes my life has been experiencing lately. Though Durai and I were nearly split apart by my lie, we have made it through very well, and if nothing have strengthened our bond to each other. We now share his family home, I having had moved in with him to live after I had suggested he take up his residence, as it is much safer and easier to secure than a room at the inn. The house, seeming at one time to have been cursed with some unseen shroud, now seems to have a calming, and almost blessed feeling over it. It has been that way ever since the day that light appeared in the main living quarters, in the exact spot that Durai tells me Torm once appeared to his mother. Be that as it may, I think I shall ask one of the elder priests or priestesses to perform a few additional blessings on the house before I leave, as well as to ask them to place a few glyphs, to ward it against ill intentions.

    Durai seems to becoming more and more enthralled with the Sunite text I’ve loaned him. He’s always asking me questions about the more “physical” sections of the texts, and I find myself constantly reminding him that I only know as much as he does, and what we’ve experienced together. I’m starting to wonder if I should be a bit worried about his interest in my book, and the ideas it’s given him. However, seeing that I am the benefactor of his love and curiosity about the beauty of the reinforcement of the bond of love, I have very little to complain about. He’s also mentioned that he’s begun to read the philosophical and aesthetic passages now, and it seems he’s enjoyed them as much as the other sections, but perhaps not as much.

    I have also begun to read through some of his prayer books and texts on Torm, the god he follows, and I must admit that I admire this god, who was once a man. I appreciate, and hold to myself, some of the ideals that his philosophy reinforces, and marvel at how such a righteous man could have ever been mortal. Too often, it seems we mortals are susceptible to greed, temptations, and of course… hurting others, even when we believe we are trying to do what is right in our perceptions. The values of honor, loyalty, duty, and chivalry appeal to me, for they also seem so reminiscent of the knights I have so loved to study in the romantic texts, as well as the image of what I think my father must have been like. Though my faith in Sune is complete, I think I shall again refer to some of these texts of Torm’s.

    Another lady has seemed to have developed affection for Durai, and though I was merely suspicious before, I think my suspicions have been confirmed. I initially began to wonder about her, when one day I approached the south fire in Norwick, where I saw Durai an this woman sitting together. Though others, including Durai, did not notice her poise of body, and how this perhaps exposed her intent, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. Instinct I think it’s called. I mentioned this suspicion to Durai later, and he seemed surprised, and told me that he would rid this woman of any ideas of trying to gain his affections if she had any designs on him. With his typical boyish way of smiling, which I never think he’ll be rid of even into his old age, he told me that there could be no one else for him but me. Though I know this, and as good as it felt to have this confirmed again, I do have to admit that I find myself a little jealous.

    When Durai and I saw this woman again later, he whispered to me in a hushed tone if I was sure of my thoughts on this. Being it was only the three of us on Sam’s hill, and there was nothing to be feared, I simply turned and asked her. The phrasing of her reply confirmed solidly, at least for myself, that she does indeed hold affections for him, as it held no confirmations in such existence of affections (which would have caused her embarrassment I would suppose to admit), or denials or falsities, and seemed fitting for a devout follower of Helm as she has told us that she is. From what little I am told of followers of Helm, Torm, Tyr and the like, they would not attempt to lie if at all possible, and the lack of denial would confirm such feelings but without allowing her to lose face. However, I don’t know what quite to make of this, for I had assumed she would freely admit her feelings, as that is what I am used to. Even if they are to be rebuffed, there is some relief in sharing one’s emotions, and it serves to free their heart. Or so I have always learned, though many here seem not to follow such sound ways of thinking sadly enough. Her evasion stunned me, and confuses me as to how things should proceed.

    Aside from the aforementioned, I should report that I continue to wage my war against the kitchen. I have lost to my count, nearly twenty three battles with it, and have won two. The merchant of the general store assures me that my biscuits are wonderful, and has actually suggested that I add more salt to the recipe, but be sure to bring those particular batches of biscuits to him. The man certainly has a taste for biscuits.

    (Though I believe he is actually using my failed experiments to supplement his long over due shipment of sling bullets. We shall have to speak on this.)

    I hope to soon contain my memories on my family history in this journal, as well as Rosethorn’s story, as I remember Moira telling it to me when I was a child. Hopefully, I shall get it right, and if not, I can merely ask her to help me revise it when I revisit the church for my penance. I am beginning to grow curious as to why I am being called back as well. The reply to my letter did not seem as though it would be fitting for the Priestesses normal attitude or response to such things, but I suppose I will find out once I return.

    It will be my last trip to Aglarond as my home, and I will ask to be released of my bonds there so I may transfer them here. I am sure that my request will be granted, as there are so few followers of Sune here, and I think my Priestess will be most encouraged by the idea of me adding to the number with hopes that I may bring others. When I return to Narfell, I shall claim this place as my new home, in hopes and pursuit of the life I was meant for, whatever life that may be. It is certainly a most enjoyable mystery so far, and I cannot wait to find out how it shall proceed from here.

    Sune bless and guard the bonds I make, and the hearts of those who have found a place in mine.

  • ?

    The Price of a Promise III

    Shalia woke the next day, worn, and wrung out. It felt as though every emotion in her and in her heart had been fighting one another. At this time, she wasn’t quite sure which one was winning, only that they had all surely beaten each other to what felt like a bruised and unrecognizable pulp.

    Making her way through the town square, she trudged down to the south fire. If breaking her promise to the church had not upset the priestess, if they had seen her in the state she was now, she surely would be in much much more serious trouble. Seeing Nico, she brushed a lank strand of hair out of her face, and asked if he had seen Durai. Though he smiled at her initially, his face fell as he saw the state of her appearance, and gave his answer. “Errr… yes, I think he was in Fred’s with that Adam…. Are you… Alright Shalia?” Merely nodding, she turned out on her heel to drag herself back to the Friar’s cottage.

    Stepping inside the home, she glanced around, and saw that it was empty, but for one of the Friar’s “assistants”. Suddenly, she felt a breath on her ear, and a whisper, “Come to the Boarshead immediately.” Blinking, she tried to place the voice. It did sound vaguely familiar, but she was sure it couldn’t have been that man Thyrm again. The whisper simply didn’t have that cold feeling to it, and if she were to guess… it sounded like an old man. Tipping her head in curiosity, she turned herself around once again, exiting the cottage, and nearly running into Durai’s chest.

    “Oh! Shalia!” shouted Durai, the words almost instantly bringing a severe frown to her face. He hadn’t called her Shalia in days now unless it was for an introduction. Other times, he had always referred to her as ‘Shay’, a nick name that had seemed to be coined for her. Pasting on a faint, but insincere smile, she nodded to Durai merely saying, “Hello.”

    Not quite being able to decide if she wanted to kiss him thoroughly, for the time they had been apart, or perhaps shove him into a nearby mud puddle, for the fact that it was him and that he had decided to revoke his forgiveness that kept them apart, Shalia opted instead to stand there staring back at Durai saying nothing more. “Um… Shalia, I need to talk to you…” Durai began, making her heart lighten a bit. If he wanted to talk to her, then it must be a good thing, yes? “Adam, Alannia and I need to check the room that you and I slept in the other night. I think someone was in there and attacked me while we slept. And we need your key and permission to get in now.”

    Never before had she come so close to contemplating choking someone, anyone, let alone someone she loved dearly.

    “My key?! That’s all you want to talk about is my key?!?!” Shalia shouted, triggering a deep blush to rise in Durai’s cheeks.

    Just as Shalia was about to verbally attack him, Durai turned to see a woman with gray hair and an eye patch approach. It was this woman, who beat Shalia to the proverbial and literal punch. Smacking Durai on the back of the head, the lady began to yell at him, “What the hells are you thinking boy? How dare you come out here without letting us know, or at least where you would be?! HUH?” The lady Shalia was to find out later, was Alannia Diams, paladin of Helm, and friend of the Hightower family, though- it did not appear she was feeling particularly friendly at this moment, as she continued to argue with Durai, who was also attempting to hold his own against her. “I am not a boy! I will not hide in a cave! Stop treating me that way!” yelled out Durai, a litany that had been heard many times lately. Shalia looked at Durai sympathetically, for she too believed that they were underestimating him. The look caught Alannia’s attention, turning to Durai again, “Well? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?!” spat out Alannia. Looking ready to shoot back another ‘I am not a boy’ reply, Durai instead turned to Shalia and stared at her a moment. She could see that he had even forgotten she was there, and this was just enough to trigger their argument once again.

    “I thought you said you forgave me!”

    “I have to think about it!”

    “Of course, it’s fine for you to keep something as important as SOMEONE being in our room, but yet I am to be flayed for trying to keep a promise to my faith.”

    “I was trying to find the right time to tell you, but then things… happened.”

    “Oh? And you don’t think I was trying to find the right time to tell you?!?!”

    The new argument raged on, with the lady Alannia standing on in watch, not even considering trying to get her thoughts in on her upset with Durai.

    “What does it matter?! You’re leaving in a month anyways!”

    “NO I’m NOT!” shouted Shalia.

    “…… you’re not?”

    “No. I wrote to my Priestess, and I’m asking to stay here and receive my penance in Narfell.”

    “Oh.”

    Durai and Shalia stared at each other a moment before Alannia’s soft voice, filled with patience came from the behind Durai. “I’m very sorry for interrupting all of this, but perhaps Young Master Hightower should remember the issue at hand?”

    Durai and Shalia both woke out of the shock of their argument, blinking at each other and turning to Alannia. “Yes…um…Let’s go search the room then…” Shalia whispered softly.

    Something seemed to have eased between all three. What it was specifically, none of them could say, and they would not have the time to examine it right now as they had already been delayed too long.

    The group hurried back to the Boarshead, intent on searching the room for clues as to who, or what had attacked Durai.

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    The Price of a Promise II

    Shalia waited for Durai to return to the Room, wringing her hands nervously and fidgeting. She had already seen that her back pack was put in order, and all of her things were inside, so that she would be ready to leave when he returned. She was not long in her wait, as he entered the room a few short minutes later.

    Nodding to Shalia politely, Durai muttered in question if she was ready to return to Norwick. Indicating she was, they both grabbed their things and set out. Waiting at the gates for them was an elderly man driving an ox driven wagon. The man, seeing the faces of the two, drawn and depressed, merely asked if they were ready to be on their way, then pointed to the back of the wagon, where they would ride with a few kegs of ale that he was to deliver to Barle at the Boarshead Tavern.

    Riding in silence, Shalia wondered where the feelings of love and passion they had shared the previous night had gone. Were they to be furthermore replaced by these cold feelings of betrayal and distrust? Turning to Durai, Shalia opened her mouth to speak with him, but quickly closed it once again as she saw the hard set of his mouth and how his eyes pierced out onto the road that followed behind them. Fear rapidly welled up in her chest, and panic pushed around thoughts in her head that they may never be as they were, and if it was so, it was surely all of her fault.

    In due time, they arrived in Norwick, hopping off of the back of the wagon to give their thanks and a small payment to the driver of the wagon. Looking between the faces of Durai and Shalia once more, the driver spoke up, “Ye know… Young’ens like yerself oft’n get yerselv’s inta all sorts of silly quarr’ls that you thinkin’ be oh so vere serious at de time. But dey always make up ‘n de end, yes they do.” Durai froze in his steps toward the tavern, balling his fists once, releasing, and then balling them again so tight that his knuckles turned white. Muttering an angry thanks to the driver once again, he pushed open the door to the tavern, letting it slam behind him.

    Running after Durai, she found him in the common room, running both hands through his hair as the patrons and waitresses rushed around him. Hurrying up to him, she fell into step beside him as he turned to go up to the Inn quarters. “Durai… I…” Shalia said as she took hold of his hand between hers, looking into his eyes. “I think…” she began again, faltering in her words as Durai slipped his hand out of her grip. “Yes, I agree. We’ll sleep in separate rooms tonight. I need to think and catch up on my studies and prayers. I’ve fallen behind.” Watching Durai turn and leave to go down the hall to his own room, Shalia choked on a cry.

    Holding her breath tautly as she entered her own room, slowly turning behind her to lock the door, and set the key on top of her chest. Sitting down on her bed, she stared out the window for a moment, noticing that it was ajar, just an inch or so. Closing it, she went back to her bed, curling up and hugged her arms to her chest. She couldn’t cry this time. Some things were even too sad for tears.

    Breathing in forced deep even breaths, she prayed that Sune would see that her letter would be delivered as quickly as possible to Aglarond, and that the reply would come just as quickly. It was a small prayer, and most likely not worth her goddess’ notice, but it meant everything to her right now.


  • (( you keep using that word, but I do no think it means what you think it means 😄 ))

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    The Price of a Promise I

    Shalia sat for hours in the room, thinking, contemplating what she had done after she had cried out all the tears she could. She couldn’t let this stand as it was. She had to put things right and back in their proper place. But how? She had already broken her word in so many ways.

    Oddly, she remembered the time that Moira tried to teach her to play a yarting. Oh how had Shalia hated learning the instrument, for it had seemed she would never quite understand how the finger placements or chords worked. And her fingers were so long…they always seemed as though they were getting tangled together. She continued to practice, every day, getting worse and worse it seemed, until the day she threw down the instrument onto the floor in frustration.

    “I’m never going to learn how to play this thing Moira! Never! I hate it!” said the little ten year old girl, crossing her arms in stubbornness.

    Moira sighed, putting down her own instrument, and picking up the one that had been thrown to the floor. “Are you always going to give up so easily?” Moira asked. The elderly woman took the child’s hands, and brought her to stand before her. “Just calm yourself my dear. Things aren’t as bad as you think.” Giving Shalia a reassuring smile, she gestured for her to sit on a nearby stool. Moira placed the instrument in Shalia’s hands, and moved the girl’s fingers to a more comfortable position. Guiding them in their movement across the strings, Moira then changing their placement producing a soft melody. The notes were beautiful and clear, resonating off of the cottage walls. “If you fail in one way my dear, then just find another,” said Moira, mussing Shalia’s hair.

    Shalia bounced her head on the back of the wall, deep in thought and frustration. Was she giving up too easily? She hadn’t thought so, but… Maybe there was something else she could do. Bounding off of the bed, she scanned the room, locating her pack. Finding a small sheet of parchment, a quill, and inkpot, she gathered the items in her arms, and sat on the floor, writing furiously. Stopping once or twice to reconsider the phrasing of a particular passage, she chewed on the bottom of her lip thoughtfully. Shaking her head in resignation, she wrote down the entire truth of the matter. Lies had gotten her into this terrible mess, and Sune help her she would avoid doing so again if it was possible. Completing the letter, she gathered her things into her pack, slinging it over her shoulder. Hurrying out of the Inn, she made her way through Peltarch in the direction of the Temple.

    If Priestess Daisy could some how send word to Durai’s mother within short time, then perhaps she could send a message to Aglarond in a quick manner as well, couldn’t she?

    Shalia carried her message into the temple, and asked the Priestess there for a favor.

    She hoped she would be able to keep her promise. If not this way, she would find another.

  • ?

    Unraveled

    Her dreams gave her no shelter to hide from what she had tried to do, and what she had done. She had lied, and had been lying to Durai. And to try to save herself from the consequences of what she had done, she had tried to trick him into marriage. But she had told him the truth. And in doing so, she had betrayed her word to her Priestess.

    She had betrayed her church.
    She had nearly lost Durai.
    And soon she would lose her home.

    The same dream repeated itself over and over in her mind. She, Durai, and a shadowy figure were standing on a plain in the dark of night. Both herself and he figure were asking Durai to come with them, and he stood in the middle, undecided.

    Until the end, when he turned his back on her.

    As she would try to chase him, she looked around, seeing everyone she knew. Nico, Alexander, Sam, the Priestesses from her church… They would all glance at her for a moment, and then they too would turn their back on her.

    Waking with a start, she shook the webs of the dream off.

    Durai had forgiven her for her lies. And after she left in a month’s time, she would have him to come back to. He was the only thing she would have left after she would give up everything else she had known.

    Feeling the need to have his arms around her, she turned to the side of the bed that he had slept on that night.

    But he too was gone, his side of the bed still warm from his body, but empty of his form.

    Feeling the strength drain out of her body, she bowed her head, and gathered her knees to her chest.

    Her eyes wetted, tears rolling down her cheeks.

    Never before had she felt so alone

  • ?

    [ Note to Readers: The following story, while not graphic in nature, may make some uncomfortable, or even blush a little. Those who do not care for stories of a more intimate nature, should read no further in this post. To those who are reading further, I hope you like the story I have written, and I hope you find it in good taste, and enjoy it!]

    "The Nature of Love"

    Shalia and Durai sat quietly across from each other, dutifully attending to the consumption of their meals. While some conversation would have passed between them, it was limited to vague comments and questions, and any pressing of the matter would quickly result in discomfort. Having both reached the point where they did not wish to give any more effort to pretense, they merely sat in silence, eating their stew, sorting out whatever thoughts each one had swimming around in their minds.

    Periodically, Shalia would glance up, examining Durai’s face- every curve of his chin, the lines of his nose, how his eyes were set into his face. Just looking at him brought such intense feelings to rise in her chest, making her want to tell him again, how much she loved him, and how thankful she was that she had met him. And to tell him…how sorry she was. Panic clenched in her chest and throat, making it difficult to swallow the sip of wine in her mouth. She had never meant to lie to him. No- not lie. She simply hadn’t told him all of the truth. ‘But it wasn’t my fault!’ a little voice would echo in her mind, drowned out by a much louder voice proclaiming her guilt over and over.

    From the moment she had seen him, she felt so strongly for him, and knew that she had to know him. But at the same time, worries of how young she was, and his age had welled up in her mind, reminding her how it wasn’t yet time for her to fall in love like this. It wasn’t in her plans, and circumstances soon wouldn’t allow for it. As much as she might want it, it simply wasn’t to be…Was it?

    Staring down at the table, Shalia thought back to a passage she had read once in a book, the author proclaiming that his writings to be the true nature in the way love occurred.

    “Love is not all pleasure, and often the pleasure of it causes such pain that it rends the soul to feel it. It is never convenient, but like all gifts of such an incredible nature, there is a responsibility tribute that must be paid to it if those who have been bestowed with such a thing wish to keep it. Even then, a hint of a whisper, the lightest of a touch, can shatter the bonds formed by this thing which we poets have named ‘Love’. With the pain and sorrow that follows it where ever it goes, it is a wonder that anyone would ever partake of it, but alas- the mortal heart has no guard against it’s oncoming, and it quickly tricks it into allowing it’s stay, whether brief or long.”

    She had known it was impossible for her to keep herself from falling in love with him, but never had she thought it would be so painful to eventually leave him. Sam was right. She would leave, and she would break his heart.

    Shalia’s thoughts continued to wrap themselves around her distress, when suddenly a small hin in the center of the room broke out into song.

    The subject being Kanen Hightower- Durai’s father.

    Looking up quickly, she saw that Durai’s face hand tensed in distress, gripping the handle of his spoon with ferocity and pain.

    Gods! How tired she was of this. Could not more than a few moments pass in a day in which wasn’t consumed by the legend of “Kanen Hightower, heroic figure of the land” just to give his son a moment to breathe?

    Exhaling in frustration, she slammed the palm of her hand on the top of the table, pushing herself away and out of her chair. Digging her fingers into one of the pouches of her dress, she located the key to her quarters, and then offered her hand to Durai. Looking at her with confusion, he took one more bite of his meal, then slowly laid down the spoon, and then lifted his hand to take Shalia’s.

    All but dragging him behind her, Shalia led him up the stairs and down the hall to her room. Briefly relinquishing his had so she could unlock the door, she held it open, gesturing for Durai to enter. Looking at the door, and then looking to Shalia, then back at the door once again, Durai nodded slightly, stepping inside. Shalia closed the door, and the air seemed to shift, making her aware too that something seemed different.

    Turning to meet the line of Durai’s eyes, she found him once again admiring the dress that he had purchased for her just that afternoon. That was what he was admiring, wasn’t it? Her stomach stirred, bubbling nervously and caused goose bumps to rise on her arms as her thoughts drifted to the possibilities.

    Stepping towards her, he lowered his head slightly, looking up briefly to meet her eyes, then down again, craning his neck so his mouth could find her neck. Sighing softly, her arms found themselves around the ridge of his back, holding him tightly to her. Hands found themselves in other places, touching, exploring, roving over each other’s bodies as Shalia’s and Durai’s mouths began to do the same. Gliding a finger over the top of her bodice, Durai’s eyes again met Shalia’s questioningly, his lips parted with a breath of passion.

    “What do you want from me, Durai?” Shalia asked him, resting her forehead against his as she allowed herself to catch her breath.

    Leaning his head to one side, Durai began to lay light kisses on her ear lobe, pausing to whisper in reply, “I love you Shay…I only want as much as you want to give me.”

    ‘I want to give you everything Durai, but I can’t,’ the words stuck in her mind, not quite being able to force them out. Instead, she nodded slowly, giving some sort of permission that she herself wasn’t quite sure what it entailed. “I love you too Durai,” was all that she could eek out. “I want you so badly,” she heard herself say, hearing the other half of the admission, ‘but I can’t have you’, following in her heart.

    Slowly, shaking hands moved to undo the laces of her dress, another pair to release the cord on his robe.

    Though hands moved slow, taking their time to explore, touch and feel in return, the girl and boy found themselves, perhaps too quickly, engaging themselves in a right which had existed for as long as men and women have existed in the world.

    A thing of beauty, a thing of pain and passage from one point of life to another. A reason that gave purpose to the bodies of men and women to be so extraordinarily different, and completely exquisite in the intricacies of their unique forms.

    In a night, the hearts of a young boy and girl, finding themselves in love, grew to suddenly include the responsibilities which bear on the heart of a man and woman.
    And as much sorrow as it might bring in the future, each one of them were sure that they would never take their decision back.

    Resting next to Durai later that night, she watched him sleep, his breath slow, and chest rising in measured contentment.

    To say that the experience had been as good as or anything like what she had read about in some of the Sunite texts, or heard about in the songs of bards- would be a complete falsity. It was different.

    It was nothing at all like what the stories said it was. The tales had lied.
    It was completely different.

    Shalia knew that each had done their best to try to express to each other how they felt, being awkward and clumsy at times, tender and instinctual in others. If they had been to step out of themselves for a moment, and to watch, they most certainly would have either cried in embarrassment, or laugh at how funny it all really was.

    Nothing but lies, a harsh voice intruded into her thoughts causing her chest to clench in pain and shame for a moment as she remembered her situation.

    Rubbing her palm down the bone of her breast, she forced herself to ease again, to breath slowly.

    It had been completely different.
    It had been Durai and Shalia, and their love between them- that was all she would need to remember.

    Shalia smiled softly as she drifted off to sleep herself next to her lover, guilty voices put to rest for now.

    The reality of making love with Durai had been infinitely better than what any of the books have tried to tell her, and she would never forget.

    Not for a long time after they both had gone away from this life.

  • ?

    Journal Entry I

    I have now been in this land for a few short weeks, and though it has been a small amount of time, I think my life has changed dramatically as a result.

    While I do miss Aglarond a little, one does have to admit that the variety of people here is so amazing. I’ve met half orcs, sorceresses, minstrels and barbarians alike. Some of them are quite pleasant and well spoken, while others… well, I suppose they just take a bit of getting used to. The most difficult to understand at times are the dwarves- their brogue is soo thick it’s a wonder they could even understand each other!

    I’ve met so many people, each one different and a pleasure to speak with in their own way. Well… for the most part anyhow. There’s Sam, who seems to have a good heart underneath all of his gruffness, but he’s usually too wrapped up in being grumpy. One day I felt that I had to scold him, in the middle of the forest. He kept implying that I was “Keeping Durai up at night” and dissuading his studies. Though nothing could be further from the truth (however, I will have to make sure that Sam doesn’t find out I loaned Durai one of my Sunite texts), Sam had been persisting for days with such comments of how I was a distraction. I really lost my temper, so I walked up to the big lug, and stood nose to… um well… chest as it were, to him. ‘MISTER SAM!’ I must have shouted so loud that anyone else in the forest would clearly overhear. ‘How dare you continue to imply that I do such things. I will have you know, though it is not any of your business, that I keep my own room, and the only one who sleeps there is me. And I do not sleep in anyone else’s room either! Now, you are a person of honor and I expect better conduct from you in the future. I am VERY disappointed. I really expected better manners from you Sam.’

    I think my words must have been overly harsh, for the entire time I was speaking to Sam, he was taking steps backwards, causing me to close the distance. And he kept muttering, “Yes Ma’am,” and “I’m sorry Ma’am.” I’ll have to apologize for frightening him I suppose.

    Durai, whom I have mentioned previously, I find to be one of the most incredible persons I’ve ever met in my life. While I have questioned before why it is that I wasn’t meant to be a priestess of my faith, and why I was to journey here, I have found that small pieces of the answer have fallen into place little by little. And I believe Durai to be an important piece, one that I will be ever thankful to Sune for. Though our affections for each other developed very quickly after we first met, we have both agreed that we are young, and we have plenty of time to grow with one another, and find out where our love for each other will take us. I have had the benefit of taking part in many adventures here since my arrival, but I find this particular adventure of love to be the most exciting.

    As for other people that I have met, there were a few in the past few days whom I have found particularly interesting. One being a sorceress, or “Sorceress of the Rawlinswood” she calls herself, named Tindra. Our conversation had been struck up when I had complimented her on her attractive clothing, and I think we became fast friends. She has an unusual accent though, as when she speaks all of her r’s seem to extend overly long.

    I have also made the acquaintance of Alexander and Nico, two of Durai’s friends, who seem to be fine men, and a joy to talk to. Both seem jovial and ready with all sorts of teasing and jokes, yet they both seem trustworthy as well.

    I have also found that there is indeed a priestess of Sune in this land, a small hin (or I think she might be, she does appear to be a bit elfish) by the name of Atel. She reminds me much of the priestesses of home, very wise and attentive one moment, and the very next off entertaining with song and dance. I was cheered at meeting Atel, for I had not realized how much I had missed my former home until just then. I shall have to remember to write the priestesses a letter soon.

    Oh yes! And lastly… I have met a knight! I REAL knight! I shall have to learn more about this man. I tried to question him on what it was like, but he kept putting me off by asking me about my faith and thoughts. Though he said he respected Sune, I believe that he thinks most of her followers to be like what many others believe we are. Simple minded materialistic twits with all the depth of a shallow pond. The man’s name was Thierulf I think, and he seemed to be a nice person to speak with. I shall have to seek him out to question him more, as well as show him that he is mistaken of Sune’s followers.

    Sune bless and guard the bonds I make and the hearts of those who have found a place in mine.

  • ?

    @013337aa11=X-Kalibur:

    @013337aa11=Shalia:

    the spiders of unusual size

    :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

    ((Don't worry. I don't think they really exhist. 😉 ))


  • @9055c8fb6d=Shalia:

    the spiders of unusual size

    :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

  • ?

    Part II

    It was not long before Sam and Shalia were lead to the Gypsies’ campsite, nestled deep in a forest that hugged the Nars pass. Through a sense of intuition given to the aged half orc by the grace of Helm, they had thankfully been lead there in due haste, though each minute not knowing if Durai was unharmed seemed like hours. The god Helm seemed to be answering all of Sam’s hastily made prayers for direction and assistance, though this changed upon reaching the camp. There was too much darkness in the people’s souls here, and simple intuition was not enough to show the path to Durai. Sam became even more frantic, began to shout and curse at his god in pain, then begging him to help him in this one last task the next.

    Watching as Sam shouted out his feverent prayers and argued with his god the next, Shalia stood behind him, her body drawn tight in fear and panic, only mildly aware that Sam’s frustration was bringing him closer to violence.

    I want to be the knight Moira. I want to be the one that saves somebody.

    What silly, stupid, childish words those are, Shalia thought to herself. I could never save anyone. All that she could do was watch as Sam did his best to bargain with Helm for a key to Durai’s safety. But it was obvious that even Sam, as large and battle worn as he was, did not know if he would be able to play the savior knight for his charge on this night. It might be that the next time they saw the boy, he would be dead.

    With a thought as to what would happen if they did not find Durai in time, the fear began to ebb away, replaced with guilt that maybe it was somehow her fault that Durai had been taken away. Maybe her wish was somehow responsible for this predicament, as if to show her, “Well, this is what you wanted. And it comes at a steep cost.”

    Snapping back to reality, she saw that Sam was still yet on his knees, his prayers becoming louder and more desperate. “Mistur HELM please! Nut ano’der one! Dun let me lose an’oder one…” Any casual passer by could see how the half orc’s heart was threatening to break, and how much he wanted to save the boy. Sam would have done anything for him. How much did Shalia want Durai as well? Afraid to find the answer to that, Shalia too fell to her knees, praying to her goddess, asking for her help. ‘Help Helm help Sam… Please Goddess, just… just don’t let Durai be hurt. Let us find him. Anything…just please help,’ words rippled through her mind. ‘Help him because…’ but she was unable to finish that thought, as help had arrived.

    And so help came, in the most unusual package of a tall human man named Rick, and a hin monk named Scutum. The pair, quickly learning of the situation, turned to ask the gypsies themselves, who had not seen fit to speak to either Sam or Shalia. Surely enough, they had seen a man and a group of others pass through the camp, carrying a large sack.

    “As for what’s in the sack?” said the shady looking Gypsy man, nearly grinning, “I couldn’t say. But I think- he went thata way.”

    Running off in the direction that she had last seen Sam, Shalia found him already gone. Looking over her shoulder, she spotted him, already setting out in the direction that the man had pointed out. Helm had granted his prayers after all. It seemed that many of the gods must have been listening this evening, or perhaps they were merely watching after Durai, just like so many here seemed to be.

    Jogging to catch up to the group, Shalia found herself deep in a part of the forest that she had not noticed before. As she looked around her, she noted the abnormally large spider webs hanging off of the branches in this part of the forest, and felt her stomach begin to clench painfully. What in Sune’s name could make such a large web? A loud thud sounded before her, followed by an echo of snapping twigs and crunching leaves.

    “I hate spiders,” Sam groaned.

    Normally, the declaration would have brought a smile to her face, if not for just in front of her, dropping out of the sky there before them was a group of spiders unlike she had ever seen before, or dared to be featured in her nightmares. Spiders so large, that surely they could easily consume a horse, and quite easily two humans, a hin and a half orc.

    Immediately, Shalia pulled out her bow, aiming at the spiders as the others charged them frontally. In awe, she watched as the three made quick work of the large arachnids, often slaying each one before Shalia could launch a single arrow. Seeing such bravery and skill settled the fears in her heart. Surely with a band such as this, they would have Durai to safety in short work.

    Pausing a moment, Shalia whispered prayers of thanks once again to Sune and Helm, for it was quite apparent that they had been listening.

    Finishing off the spiders of unusual size, they made their way to a cavern, Sam sure that Durai was there somewhere inside. Upon entering, they could hear Durai’s shouts, leading the band through the cavern to find him being held in a pit. Whomever this was who had taken him had left behind men to ensure that he was not taken back, but it seemed that he had underestimated the skill of the people who came to save the priest of Torm. As Sam lowered a rope to fetch Durai out of the pit, Shalia leaned against the side of the cavern wall, nursing a gash in the side of her abdomen. While the others had dealt with the guards easily, it was apparent that Shalia had not been ready for what they had to fight through.

    “My, you are delicious. I don’t think your boyfriend will mind sharing you with me,” whispered a cold voice brushing against Shalia’s neck. Drawing her breath sharply, Shalia held her body taught, afraid to move. Hearing Shalia’s whimper of fear, the monk Scutum quickly came to her side, eyes darting around the space to find what it was that had caused the girl distress. As suddenly as the presence had appeared, it was gone, but yet it had left Shalia with a feeling of terror.

    “Shalia!” shouted Durai, hurrying through the cavern hall to her, wrapping his arms around the girl in relief. Wincing in pain, she held him tightly with her free arm, still cradling her side with the other. Blinking, Durai pulled back, seeing that she had been wounded. “What did this to you?” he asked as he began to probe the wound, closing his eyes briefly to pray to Torm for aid in healing. Smiling weakly, she studied Durai’s face in relief, seeing that he had been completely unharmed. “I’m fine. Really,” Shalia smiled at him, trying to do her best to reassure.

    “Luts get o’ta hur!” Sam shouted from the back of the cave. It was clear that Sam had regained his sense of order, and ordering others about. “Yes,” sighed Durai tiredly, “I want to get Shalia to safety.”

    Nearly flinching at this, she could feel herself grinning faintly. She needed to be taken to safety? She was not the one who had just been kidnapped and held in a pit. Not feeling up to pointing that out, Shalia merely nodded, and followed the band out.

    As the group exited the cave, she made a mental list of things that she would have to do now. Firstly, she was never going to think wrongly of Sam for being over protective and overbearing of Durai. If nothing else, it had become painfully apparent how necessary it was to be on guard against all that threatened him. Secondly, she was going to have to say some extra prayers in thanks to Sune for the help she had lead to Sam and Shalia for recovering Durai. She didn’t think Sam would care to have it pointed out how she thought Lady Firehair’s aid had helped, so she would merely have to make up for his oversight. And… well, she would say some prayers of thanks to Helm also.

    Finally, she wanted to hold Durai and kiss him gently, telling him what she felt in her heart. Sune bid her followers to be open with their feelings, but more so Shalia wanted to tell him because she knew she could not be sure of what tomorrow brought.

    There were enemies hiding in the shadows, and tomorrow he could be gone again.

  • ?

    "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."- John Lennon, Beautiful Boy

    Part I

    Shalia spent the majority of her morning in study, thumbing through the worn texts written in elvish, a language she always had preferred reading in. Common simply didn’t seem to give the life to words as elvish did, she thought to herself, nor the same intensity or sincerity. Study was not an entirely unpleasant task for a Sunite, as the material to be studied was often poetry, literature, and philosophical works on the nature of Sune’s gifts to man. It was no longer necessary she supposed that she kept up the tasks of study and prayer that the acolytes were often given, as she no longer was on that path, but it gave her some warmth and guidance to do so anyway. She often remembered the other students complaining about their study tasks, something which she herself enjoyed. If they disliked what they had to study and it was such a trial, she wondered, why did they wish to serve Sune as priestesses? How ironic that those same girls who she had studied with, and tutored at times, were now fulfilling their vows to Sune, while she herself had been told that life was not for her.

    It was not that she did truly wish to be a priestess she supposed, but that she had felt she had done something wrong. That somehow, she had displeased her Goddess so much that she simply didn’t want this troublesome girl in her service. But yet…

    Words from long ago itched at the back of her mind, and she could almost hear Moira’s creaky voice.

    “Whatever anyone tells you Shalia, it’s the gods who decide who receives their gifts, not mortals.”

    Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Shalia felt the pangs of a headache ripple through her head. She was over thinking this matter, a flaw which she seemed to show all too often. She was sure she would find the answer in time, but until then…

    She let thoughts of a charming young man invade her mind, and began to wonder if he might be outside, waiting for her. Grinning to herself, she could not resist going to find out if her hunch was correct. Closing her books, she stacked them neatly beside her bed, pulling her robe over her head and clothing, smoothing down her hair and pinching her cheeks for color. Hurrying down the hall, stairway, and out the common room, she took care not to run into anyone, nearly failing when she spotted Misty following at her heals, threatening not to let her out of the tavern without a lengthy conversation involving ordering a drink.

    Arriving outside unscathed by ale, wine, spirits, barmaid or drunken tavern patron a smile quickly spread across her face as she saw the object of her affections sitting next to his keeper. A warmth spread over her, fluttering in her stomach as she walked over to Durai and Sam, curtsying to them both and giving her greetings.

    Quickly the group exchanged salutations, Durai’s warm and pleasant, Sam’s gruff and disapproving, at which Durai looked over his shoulder, glaring at his protector with an unspoken sentiment relaying that he was growing frustrated with this act of Sam’s. Somehow knowing that it was the best way to irritate Sam, Shalia flashed the brightest smile she could make without straining her cheeks, but yet put Liira’s followers to shame. Shalia only felt a small amount of guilt when surely enough it made the large half orc turn a most delightful shade of green.

    Somehow knowing what her intent was in the smile, Durai stifled a chuckle.

    “Shalia, I was hoping you would join me for dinner at the Whore,” asked the young Tormite priest.

    Instantaneously, Shalia looked at Durai with utmost shock. “Excuse me?” her voice creaked out.

    Flushing, Durai’s cheeks grew high in color, the priest looking ready to melt into the ground so that he might escape his embarrassment. “No, I didn’t mean that… Just… the Inn in Jiyyd… it’s named the Regal Whore…”

    A slow grin spread across Shalia’s face, nodding. “That’s a most interesting name for a place to dine. But yes, I’d love to have dinner with you there.”

    Durai smiled brightly, nodding and eager to set out on the trip that would take them north out of Norwick. But before they could leave, Sam intending to chaperone the two, a waitress came running out of the Boarshead, calling after Durai.

    They are most certainly relentless, Shalia thought to herself.

    The waitress asked Durai to follow her, telling him that she had some brief, but important business to discuss with him. Looking back to Shalia, his face seemed drawn.

    “Shalia, I’ll be back in a…”

    Shalia smiled, “Do not worry, I’ll wait here by the well.”

    Nodding, and flashing a smile of his own, he hurried after the waitress, Sam following behind, obviously not about to let his charge out of sight for anything.

    Seconds passed, turning into minutes. And Shalia waited at the designated spot. She itched to go inside, and find out what was taking so long, but she didn’t want to seem like Sam, thinking that Durai could not be left alone for a minute to himself. Pacing in the courtyard, a nervous feeling creeping through her, nagging at her thoughts. It certainly should not be taking this long. Giving in, she ran to the inn, pushing open the door with an ungraceful thud.

    Shalia’s heart threatened to explode in panic upon seeing Sam beating at a closed door, yelling Durai’s name.

    Soon enough, the door was opened. But yet that offered no comfort to either her or Sam, as all that was left in the room was the waitress, gesturing to a spot that concealed a hidden passage.

    Searching the passage, Durai was not to be found there either, and the waitress who had lured him into the room was no help.

    Turning to Sam, Shalia could no longer contain her panic. “He’s gone Sam! I… I…” she stammered, feeling more paralyzed by fear as the minutes passed.

    “Nuh!” yelled Sam at the girl, frowning, and clearly not about to deal with the growing hysterics she was about to experience. Yanking on the sleeve of her robe, he all but dragged her outside, and began to run, looking in every crevice. Suddenly, his head perked, panic drawing across his face. “Nut ano’der one. Nuh! Dun let dis happen to ano’der one Mister Helm!”

    Shalia watched in a daze as Sam run north to the gates of the village, running as fast as his legs would carry him. Stopping suddenly, he turned, looking at Shalia with a dose of frustration. “Wul? Com’on GIRL!”

    Blinking, she snapped out of her panic, picking up the skirt of her robe, running after Sam.

    The pair sprinted down the Nars’ pass, hope panging in both of their hearts that they would find Durai alive.

  • ?

    Once upon a time…

    Shalia sat at Moira’s feet as she worked with her mending. The warm fire crackled in the fireplace, giving the small cottage a warm glowing interior.

    “They were so mean to me Moira!” complained the eight year old child, mud streaked down her face and caked all over her dress of pale pink. “They said that I wasn’t allowed to go play with the puppies anymore, no matter what the farmer’s wife said. ‘Little girl’s wanting to be priestesses shouldn’t get so filthy in the mud’” she said, doing her best imitation of the Head Priestess’s voice, even scrunching her nose as the elder priestess did, just to emulate the effect of her slightly nasal voice.

    Moira, weathered and bearing the signs of old age, merely shook her head, laughing at the small blonde child sitting on her floor. “Yes, they are mean, aren’t they? But then, if you want to be a priestess, then you should heed their words. They are doing what they do for your best interests.”

    That was not what the little girl wanted to hear, obviously as she wrinkled her nose at the notion that anyone knew better than she what was her own best interests. “Well maybe I don’t want to be a priestess! Not if I have to be so prissy!” little Shalia snorted, rubbing her nose and getting more dirt on her face in the process.

    “You don’t want to be a priestess, eh? I thought you wanted to help Sune…?” asked Moira. She was not at all displeased at the notion that Shalia might be looking elsewhere to put her talents. The girl showed promise, but if she too soon chose the life that her mother had led, she might be cloistered in the temple for the rest of her life, and Moira knew how that would only stifle the little girl’s spirit.

    “I dunno… I thought maybe…” said Shalia, hesitant to continue her thought.

    “You thought maybe what?” Moira prodded.

    Shalia bounced up to her feet, and began to gesture grandly, “Well… Lady Caitlin reads me these really nice stories. Of knights and ladies…and how they fall in love, but the lady is always captured by an evil sorcerer or some other fearsome creature… But the knight always saves his lady love in the end through some daring act of true love! And I want to be just like that!”

    Moira laughed at the child’s antics, moving a delicate piece of pottery out of Shalia’s way before she toppled it over to the ground. “You want to be captured by an evil sorcerer?” she asked, pushing another piece of artwork out of the way.

    “NO!” shouted the child, shaking her blonde strands furiously in denial.

    “You wish to marry then?” the older woman asked, curious, and already making lists of young sons in the area that might make a suitable husband when Shalia came of age.

    “NO!” Shalia shouted once more, her face growing red with frustration that her friend didn’t’ already know the answer.

    “Then what little one?”

    “I want to be the knight!”