She should have been a slave
Dawn
Outside the Depaune Mansion
A figure swathed in cloaks slips out from the shade of the woods and into the ditch beside the road. Clasped tightly to her chest the figure carried a bundle wrapped in cloth. She crouched beside the road, looking in all directions, not wishing to be seen in her current actions. Only the stillness of the morning surrounded her, birds tweeting softly in the trees, the nearby creek gurgling, the mists slowly dissipating around her feet soundlessly, the dull grey of the sky lightening to pale pink with each moment. There was little time left.
Gingerly she laid the bundle onto the damp grass, the small child lay sleeping soundly. A little girl, her stomach recently filled with the warm loving milk of her mother, who did not yet understand the world she had been born into, who did not understand the blood that ran through her veins, nor what her mother was about to do. The mother put the palm of her hand, a hand that the top of which was burned with the Bedine symbol, on the baby’s forehead and whispered a soft prayer to her Gods for the child:
Praise the Gods, o’ mighty writers of our fortune. Be kind upon this child. I have asked for your guidance on this, and feel within my soul that this be her best option. Let her eat again before she starves, let her be found and fed and clothed, let her grow up to be a woman… but if you cannot do these things I ask, I beg of you to take her life now, to let her fall asleep in this grass and never wake up, for I cannot bear the thought of her being a slave as I. Be kind or be cruel, but do not let her suffer. May the Gods grant this and I shall be eternally devout.
A rustling from the road brought the woman to her feet, two dwarves were approaching from the south, they had not noticed her yet but they would in a moment. Kicking some grass over the bundle to keep it from their eyes she stepped out of the ditch and toward the two dwarfs.
“Hey! Stop there… what is your business?” One grumbled, their hands immediately going to the small axes at their waists.
“Look… it’s one of the masters, trying to run away! Get her!” The other yelled and they both attacked.
The woman did not give any fight, but let the two dwarfs take her to the ground, the hood of her cloak falling from her head. She was a beautiful full blooded high elf.
“Elesai…” The first one reached out and ran his finger down her cheek as he hissed her name suggestively, “The masters favorite dog. You gonna give me something to keep me quiet?”
Stubbornly she stared straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact, and all the while praying they paid more attention to her than to where her child lay, just outside the gates of her fathers mansion.
“Come on… she’ll just tell him anyway, lets get her inside, perhaps we’ll get some reward that will spend better in the tavern anyway.” The second one said, hitting the other one atop the head and then drug Elesai to her feet. The two escorted her back onto the mansion grounds.
But the Gods are only so kind
She was found, before starved to death or was eaten by wolves. A group of wood elves found her while peddling their woven fares along the road and took her with them. She was fed, she was clothed, she was allowed to grow up. The harsh realities of being an orphan, of being a half breed, of being poor, and just of being a player in this harsh world they called home all took their toll upon her. The community of weavers took her in, and named her Cayrimsa, they offered her little else. As she grew she learned that no one would official accept her into their family, she was bounced around in the little village. She also learned that once she was able to walk if she wanted something, from a scrap of bread to a place to sleep she had to earn it, by doing chores and later by learning to weave.
Daily she was given lessons to teach her that she did not belong anywhere. The elves could reach the power of nature and use it, while she could merely watch and grow envious of the power they could wield. She watched also as the elves formed the community around her, caring for each other and working toward a common goal of survival, while she walked along it’s fringes, unable to feel their love and working to survive alone. The humans she saw when the ventured out to sell their work, and to buy what they needed with the small amount of money they got for them. Where the elves were simply cold to her the humans were cruel. Names would be spit in her direction, some would refuse do even acknowledge her existence, while still others would feign pleasantries only to barter a better deal for themselves. Despite their open nastiness Cayrimsa was impressed by their accomplishments. The cities were splendid, the work they did important, and even more impressive was the power they had over the land. As she envied the power elves had over nature, she envied the power humans had over the world even more.
It simply did not seem fair that she should be so outcast, forced to live in squalor amid the sheep and fleas in the forest with a bred of elves that were so obviously less accomplished than those around them. So at twelve she left, simply gathered the few belongings she had managed to scrap together over her life and walked out of the village without saying goodbye, and made her way to Drasnia.
Living amid the accomplishments of man made her feel more at ease, but life was still hard. The streets were rough, and she got her share of kicks before she learned how to stand.
Destiny awakens
Drasnia
An Apothecaries Hut
“Are you sure you want to do this?” The old half elf asked with more than a little hesitancy in his voice.
“Ah pehd yeh… doo it!” The girl muttered around the bit in her mouth staring up at him with her dark eyes with determination. It was true, the money lay on the table in front of her in a purse too rich to have come from her belt, but money was money.
“Alright, this is going to hurt… a lot. I’ll do something for the pain afterwards.”
Sitting at the table Cayrimsa turned her eyes down toward the tabletop, concentrating on the swirls in the wood grain and trying to keep her mind focused on that, already knowing that this was going to hurt. The man was hesitating, she hated that, but just as she was about to protest she felt a pair of fingers grip the point of her ear tightly and then the cold metal of a blade touch the soft skin there.
The pain was immediate, searing from her left ear down her neck and into her heart. Her eyes clamped shut and her teeth bore down around the bit. Behind her eyelids the memory of what caused her to demand this mutilation of her body danced:
When she had walked into the alley it was empty, save for the rotting garbage and a few alley cats chasing after rather plump rats, now however a large figure seemed to be following her. In the afternoon sun she could see his shadow fall over her own as he lurked. Up ahead the alley gave way to another street, where she could easily dart and get lost in the safety of the crowds bursting through the ports. However today she did not feel like running, today she felt like standing up. In a moment she spun on her heels and faced the man attached to the shadow.
He was a big brutish human, the kind you don’t want to run into in empty alleys. Not all that tall, but what he lacked in height he made up for in sheer muscular width. Grinning at her with a mouth missing more than a few teeth he clenched one hand in a fist and then beat it into the palm of his other fist.
“Yer purty… I get me good money fer you…”
Spreading her legs to better keep her balance she bore her eyes into the hunter who stood before her. He was but one of the many types of scum running around this city, but for her kind he was particularly dangerous. Hunters gathered up runaway slaves to either return to their masters for a fee, if the master could be found, or sold back into the market at high prices. Sometimes though slaves were not easy to find and free elves and half elves were captured and made slaves.
“Come and get me…” and he did, barreling toward her with all his might.
In his passion to get at her he had not noticed that she pulled out a dagger from her belt and when he got close enough she ducked her head, raised her arm and sliced into the side of his neck and ear with the blade.
Blood gushed out of the wound and screams gushed out of his mouth as he fell to the ground in a heap, clutching at his wound. Rising up out of her duck she looked down upon the monster with great satisfaction. The wound would not kill him, but it would leave a nasty mark. A shiny object caught the light of the sun and pulled her attention away from her victim. Walking over to it she picked it up and held it up to the sun. It was a disc with a small wooden handle on the back, and on the front the Bedine symbol was etched.
“Dropped something…” smiling at him wickedly, “I think it is mine now.”
The disc now sat in her purse, she thought of it as the tip of her ear hit the ground. Never again would she be confused for an elf, never again would she let someone get away with calling her an elf. The elves were lower creatures, and she would not be a part of them. Nor could she be a part of the humans, they would never accept her with her blood, and besides she found them too cruel to want to be a part of. However, they were a better breed than the elves, and if she couldn’t join them, perhaps she could rise above them, make them tremble before her… that would bring her pleasure in life, and only that.
She bit down on the wood as the apothecary brought the blade to her other ear, and let the pain she felt be overshadowed by the pleasure she knew she would get the next time a human cowered at her feet.
When it was done he offered her the left over bits of her ears, rolling her eyes she refused them and had him toss them into the street.
“Your wounds are fresh, if you will let me take a moment to heal them some for you.”
“Heal them? But you are only half elf, you cannot tap the powers of nature… and I won’t pay you extra to perform feats of ‘magic’ on me that do not work.”
“No price my child, and you will see that there are more types of power than just of elven nature… sit down…”
He cupped his hands around her ears whispered something into the air that was picked up by the spirits of magic and transposed to her skin that tingled and then began to turn the blood stumps into soft pink tender flesh again.
“How?!” She turned when it was done, touching the tips of her now rounded off ears and wincing only slightly from the tenderness there.
The man simply smiled.
“Teach me.” Dropping her hand she stared at him with the same determination she had when she had walked into the hut and asked him to do this to her.
“For that there will be a price…”
Her eyes narrowed and she grinned, “Whatever you want…”
So she received her first lessons in magic, and daily has worked on improving since. To pay for the lessons she has done many dark and dangerous things that have caused human, and elf, and all others to cower beneath her while she inflicted pain upon their bodies and souls.
***
Here is my first image of beloved
Cayrimsa.
Return to Charadun - Q&A
The Morphing Game
Return to Charadun - Recr
You just know that those two have been killing since kindergarten. 
