Post by Slyfoot M'Zors on Aug 11, 2004 21:55:27 GMT -5
(You enter the tavern feeling the warmth of the hearth and hearing the low murmur and drunken laughs of the tavern folk float through the air. You notice on the community table a small, torn and dirty letter. In passing by, you glimpse the author’s name, Slyfoot M’Zors, a name that has not been heard of for months. You vaguely remember a name like that, so you sit down to read the letter while sipping a warm glass of ginger ale.)
It is so cold in these horrible lands. I feel sick and my hair is frozen to my scalp. I should have brought more food. I have found my father. He was alive, having hidden all this time in small caves, running from the murderous winds that continuously howl through the night. He knew instantly it was me, for few of the Teir’Dal are born with the faint blue hair as I was. Without even speaking a word, a drew closer to him as I saw horror grow in his eyes. He inched backwards until he pressed his back against the jagged stone walls of the cave. I slipped my dagger out of my sheath as I wrapped my fingers around his neck. Then, starring strait into his eyes, I slowly pushed the point of my dagger through his dark, wretched heart. I released my hand from his throat and he fell to my feet, as the warm pool of blood began to grow on the floor. I just stood there. I couldn’t move. I looked down into the pool of blood and saw my reflection. My once pale blue eyes were now a glowing red. And then my vision clouded. Tears…tears came! I thought it would feel good to finally avenge the torture my father had put me through, but it didn’t. I though killing him would relieve me of my grief, but it didn’t. I thought putting my dagger through his heart would finally rid me of these feelings of lost emotions and confusion….but it didn’t. I felt terrible, I almost regretted killing him. As I wander back through the tundra, the chilling wind scratching at my pale skin, this feeling of remorse is growing. How could this be? Why would one the Teir’Dal feel this way about revenge, about murder? But I do. Some thing is different. Hate no longer looms in my heart. I don’t know what has happened to me. All I know is that I am lost again in my thoughts, with no one to talk to, and no one to care….just lost.
If this letter ever reaches anyone it was written by Slyfoot M’Zors. I am still alive, and on my way back to the warmer side of this earth. Sorry if you can’t read this letter, I could not stop my arm from shaking for the artic air has sent my whole body into rounds of uncontrollable convulsions. This may be the last you hear from me, I don’t know if I can survive this cold much longer. I pray this griffawn flies swiftly and delivers this message to some one. If I die, I at least want to be remembered, even if only by this letter. Ah, my ink is running ou…..
It is so cold in these horrible lands. I feel sick and my hair is frozen to my scalp. I should have brought more food. I have found my father. He was alive, having hidden all this time in small caves, running from the murderous winds that continuously howl through the night. He knew instantly it was me, for few of the Teir’Dal are born with the faint blue hair as I was. Without even speaking a word, a drew closer to him as I saw horror grow in his eyes. He inched backwards until he pressed his back against the jagged stone walls of the cave. I slipped my dagger out of my sheath as I wrapped my fingers around his neck. Then, starring strait into his eyes, I slowly pushed the point of my dagger through his dark, wretched heart. I released my hand from his throat and he fell to my feet, as the warm pool of blood began to grow on the floor. I just stood there. I couldn’t move. I looked down into the pool of blood and saw my reflection. My once pale blue eyes were now a glowing red. And then my vision clouded. Tears…tears came! I thought it would feel good to finally avenge the torture my father had put me through, but it didn’t. I though killing him would relieve me of my grief, but it didn’t. I thought putting my dagger through his heart would finally rid me of these feelings of lost emotions and confusion….but it didn’t. I felt terrible, I almost regretted killing him. As I wander back through the tundra, the chilling wind scratching at my pale skin, this feeling of remorse is growing. How could this be? Why would one the Teir’Dal feel this way about revenge, about murder? But I do. Some thing is different. Hate no longer looms in my heart. I don’t know what has happened to me. All I know is that I am lost again in my thoughts, with no one to talk to, and no one to care….just lost.
If this letter ever reaches anyone it was written by Slyfoot M’Zors. I am still alive, and on my way back to the warmer side of this earth. Sorry if you can’t read this letter, I could not stop my arm from shaking for the artic air has sent my whole body into rounds of uncontrollable convulsions. This may be the last you hear from me, I don’t know if I can survive this cold much longer. I pray this griffawn flies swiftly and delivers this message to some one. If I die, I at least want to be remembered, even if only by this letter. Ah, my ink is running ou…..
