Heather Robert Rowling
Heather is a powerful warrior that is driven by conviction and hate for her enemies. She was, and probably still is, the favourite student of the Shard Keeper.
General Physical Condition
Heather is short, with a very strong, bulky build. She can run for a long time and lift the heaviest of objects. Her agility is not very noteworthy. Her skin is incredibly cold to the touch, as if she was not feeling well.
Pale skin, long unkempt silver hair, thick neck, very strong physique with rippling muscles.
Large round dark green eyes, slightly elongated ears, average sized cold-colored lips, sharp features.
Burn-marks on her right arm that have ruined the complexion of it's skin.
Has a very bland look on her face.
Peak humanoid strength, minor magical talent in the arcane arts, especially in Abjuration and Evocation magic. Has recently displayed the ability to command divine magic through sheer force of will.
Apparel & Accessories
She wears a black brim hat, a long black trench coat, a red scarf and heavy armor underneath her coat. Silver trinkets adore her clothing, and a leather belt is worn around her waist. Most of them look out of place and she does not seem to be able to match them well together, nor does she take care of her beauty at all.
A magical maul, a javelin and a dagger, a shield and plate armor, a magical ring on her right hand index finger, medical supplies.
A long story for a very young woman, Heather was born to a strange union between a human man named Robert Roger Rowling and an unknown Elven woman whose name and and subrace was never revealed to her. Strongly resembling her father, it's hard to say who Heather's mother is or what she looks like. Robert was the leader of a raider gang called 'The Blood Hounds', horrifying marauders who murdered and pillaged whoever stood in their path in the name of gold and glory. Living among them, Heather was kept protected from the outside world and anything that would harm her due to her father's obsessive love. She managed to make only a single friend during her childhood years, a winged tiefling named Berun, who came into the material realm when she was very young and the two learned of the world together. When she was 8 years old, Heather witnessed the unexplained slaughter of the Blood Hounds at the hands of an unknown group of warriors, hiding under a pile of corpses comprised of the dead raiders at her father's behest. With Berun being the one to find her, he took her in as her guardian and the two left for an unnamed village in the middle of nowhere. Kidnapped by a man at the age of 9 who wanted to take revenge on Berun, Heather found herself somehow freed of her captor in a forest. Lost and afraid ( and chased by a Bear ) she unknowingly found herself entering a rift to the Shardscape, now taken in by the unknown masked entity who refers to himself as 'The Shard Keeper'. Heather stayed in the Shardscape for 4 or 5 material world years, which was much longer in the Shardscape itself, aging to what seems like her early twenties. During her time in the Shardscape, Heather trained under the Shard Keeper's guidance to become capable of surviving on her own. One day she betrayed her master's trust, curiosity taking the better of her, and looked inside the Mirrorwell of Eternity, visions of the future flooding her mind and nearly driving her mad, were it not for the interference of the Shard Keeper himself. Lost and afraid, Heather somehow found herself in the material world once more, now joined by a party of adventurers, fighting to change the future she saw, a vision of the end-times.
Heather identifies as a Half-Elf female.
Heather is not very sexually aware yet.
No Formal Education. Was home schooled by her father until the age of 8 and then by the Shard Keeper until the age of 17.
Accomplishments & Achievements
Heather managed to survive the slaughter of the Blood Hounds at the hands of their enemies when she was only 8 years old. She managed to survive a kidnapping attempt at the age of 9 and entered the Shardscape at the same age. Heather has been tutored by the Shard Keeper, a mysterious entity who resides in the Shardscape. Heather has reached the peak of physical strength for creatures her size at the age of 21, and has managed to demonstrate her amazing strength by wrestling crag-lions to the ground and headbutting them to death, killing a Centhiri Stormcaller and then battering his elementals with his corpse as a weapon, has survived an encounter with the army of the Centhiri necromancer in a lost Centhiri city, has fought alongside the voices of War, has managed to defeat a stormrider and then aid in it's taming, and more. Has fought against the Shadow Assassin Lakession and has forced him to flee. Has defeated the Stormcaller, 'Chosen One' of the Double-Headed Serpent God.
Failures & Embarrassments
Heather has failed to understand many aspects of modern day society on many occasions and still does to this day, embarrassing herself daily. She has failed to withstand the effects of her visions and has lost much of her self-control, becoming violent and bloodthirsty. She is embarrassed to admit she cannot pronounce the word Snake correctly, even though she considers herself rather smart. She has failed to convince her best friend, Berun, to let her chase after her own destiny, then subsequently failed to keep him as a friend and protect him from his opponents.
Anger issues, signs of dysthymia, plagued by nightmares.
Possesses a ( mostly ) logical outlook on life and the world.
Morality & Philosophy
Heather believes that people should fight and die for their own chance at changing the course of their lives, to accomplish their dreams, and for those they truly care to carry through life at the cost of their own future. "Sacrifice everything that stands between you and your dream. If you are not ready to fight and die for your dream, then you don't deserve to see it come true."
Has a strong dislike against liars and occasional world-enders. Heather really, *REALLY* hates the Gods.
Desperately fights to stop the coming end of the world that she has seen in her vision of the future. Passionately fights against what people call fate and strives to create her own destiny.
Savvies & Ineptitudes
Good with medicine and weapons of all kinds. Adept at the use and understanding of magic. Able to track and survive in the wilderness. An amazing athlete. Horrible at most kind of games that require the ability to lie or avoid things, has terrible fashion sense and barely understands the idea behind it. Note: Can't dodge.
Likes & Dislikes
Likes books, weapons, armor, dismembering things, magical creations. Hates feathered Snakes that want to destroy the world.
As clean as an adventurer in the desert can be, but barely knows the meaning of the word "tidy".
Contacts & Relations
The Shard Keeper ( Former Master and Father-figure ) Izha ( Former Companion and friend ) Blood On The Dawnflower( Former Companion and friend ) Hadrea ( Former Companion and friend ) Fatima ( Former Companion ) Plays For The Stars ( Former Companion ) Berun ( Former Best Friend and former Guardian )
Robert Roger Rowling ( Father, Deceased ) Unknown Mother of questionable Elven Origin ( Whereabouts Unknown ) Berun ( Father's Blood-Brother, Whereabouts Unknown ) The Shard Keeper ( Master, considered a Father-figure )
"Gods are nothing but creatures who happen to have more power than we do."
Commanding and direct. Kind of socially awkward. Becomes offensive and threatening when angered.
Hobbies & Pets
Likes reading and studying, as well as exercising. Recently added "crushing the body and soul of my enemies" to this list.
Avoids swearing when possible, seems bored or nonchalant most of the time, is polite and gets passionate when talking about things she enjoys.
Wealth & Financial state
Heather is homeless, with no family, heir to nothing and with what money she has made by fighting evil monsters and working with her party to further political interests she does not care for nor understand. She is considered wealthy by commoner standards but would not be able to establish a decent home anywhere at this point in time with what money she has.
Honorary & Occupational Titles
Long, Unkempt, Silver
Quotes & Catchphrases
The Nightmare Comes To An End
The day I wake for the first time
As I stand now before the altar I have everything. I have lit the candles. I have counted the beads. I have spoken the sacred words. With ink drying out and book pages eventually coming to an end, I thus bring an end to this diary of mine. A journey filled with pain, agony... Fear. I know now that no matter what the gods plan, none shall stall my dream any longer. As I come upon this world dressed in an invincible mantle, ill shall be the fate of those I write of. Nothing mattered up to this point, not anymore. I have slipped into madness and back to relative sanity time and time again, yet this moment is the epitome of both feelings joined together. A mad person restoring sanity to a broken world. To those who knew me I have quite a few things to say; soon they will forget about me. Yes, the Shroud of the Pale God has a painful to most drawback. Soon after I don it, I will cease to exist. Death is the least of my worries past that, for invincibility is what it grants in return for eventual deletion from history itself. A small price to pay for one such as I, one who pays little mind to glory and fame. No, what matters most is that I disappear with the knowledge that I have finally created my dream world. No longer shall the weak be toyed with by the strong. All shall be given their chance to prove themselves regardless of heritage, race, magical ability... What will matter is only passion, dedication and an iron will to become strong... Nobody should have to suffer as I have, a deafened pain whose screams only I could hear. Everyone will have the chance to rise above this. To escape a destiny others have already decided. To the gods I say... I am soon coming for you. You have much to answer for and I will make sure you do. If you are Begotten, I declare you dead already, for I am coming to end an existence that should have never been. Something born out of the giant mistake that brought the shardscape into existence in the first place. To those I killed I say this; be glad you became naught but something I forgot what even was, lest I had found a way to torture you beyond death's grasp itself. To those I lost along the way... I am sorry I couldn't save you. I can only hope that once you forget about me your soul will find peace. To he who holds the shards of the broken world together I say this; I care little what you think your plan is. I can wait no longer. Stand in my way at your own risk... Or allow me to destroy everything that corrupts this world's very core. And last but not least... To me I say everything. Heather, you've seen the world through the eyes of many things. The half breed daughter of an abusive outlaw. The step sister of an alien being. The Prodigy of an entity that became naught but it's chosen duty. An adventuring hero who never got along with her abusive friends. A lone survivor after they all died. A rebel for a cause you didn't believe in. A murderer who danced with the bodies and wrote poems in the blood of the people she killed. A destroyer of undead horrors and beings that were never meant to be. And now... Now you are going to see existence through eyes not of this world. If somehow you find this somewhere in a forest while running from your kidnapper... Just let the bear eat you. As I cast aside my armor and weapons, I prepare myself to feel the invincible mantle around me. It is with these words that I write this end to my journey, a nightmare with an end that moved ever further away. Yet, I regret nothing. Farewell Heather Robert Rowling. *The tattered diary ends here, the rest of the pages are filled with nonsensical scribblings, blood and torn pages.*
The Nightmare Never Ends Part 11
The end in sight
A humongous Dragon of a celestial nature, capable of summoning swords of brilliant light and using magic spells of mass destruction. An assassin that was chosen by Fate to destroy all those who would interfere with the flow of all things that must one day come to be. A favored servant of the Stranger, the god who holds Dominion over all souls. An orcish warrior who has refined his combat technique past the limit of mortal ability. A fledgling god with a tongue of gold and silver words. A heroic woman with dragon-chosen gifts. And a monster wearing the skin of a man that can tear other monsters asunder. These Wardens of the Wayward were formidable combatants with access to powers never before seen by many a man. They had a lot to teach the few moments I spent stalking them. If it was not for he who holds the shards of a shattered world together, I would have avoided their attention until I had what I wished for. I asked for no names. I gave them no name. I was not there to make friends. It hurts less that way. As things would be, these people may eventually choose to stand against me. They shall do so in earnest should they know less of me. With a giant undead creature crying in the sky and a lich before us, there was little time for pleasantries either way. With these new capable warriors by my side I was sure to succeed. The battle was long and hard, and half of it I was confused of. This was a battle fought with willpower; what I understood as a struggle was but a warmup to the ungodly horrors we fought. As the last enemy fell, I observed things happen I cannot put into words... But they mattered little as I stood there. At long last, joy. Blissful, painless end... I had gathered all I needed. I spoke my piece to the Wardens. Last time I ever encountered something similar to this occasion I stood alone among the corpses of those I called friends. It only felt right for me to warn them of their coming doom. Of a destiny chosen for them and not by them. Of someone else's dream they work for and not theirs. With these final words echoing in this chamber of death, I finally departed. The Stranger awaits.
The Nightmare Never Ends Part 10
The beginning of the end
Their faces were obscured yet familiar. Their voices sweet as the honey nestled inside a bee's hive, and just as threatening. I was a step closer to my goal of attaining ultimate power, but I lacked the means to continue. Indeed, how does one go about capturing a creature's cries or the dying breath of something that was never meant to exist? My research lead me to these fae creatures; sisters that had their own interests in this world and the rest of them. They openly provided me with the means to obtain what I needed in exchange for one very simple thing. A debt to them, one to be repaid in the future. A simple request I have little thought to. Their schemes will matter little anyway when I attain invincibility. A sour note to them then. A magical cloak to keep me hidden. A jar to hold what otherworldly materials I needed to gather. Enchantments to aid me in fight or flight... Though I can definitely assure anyone in my way that if anyone is doing the flight part it is them... And a few names to stalk. A group of so called heroes that so happened to be on their way to fight the enemy that will inevitably be how I obtain what I seek. Funny, once I used to be part of some so called heroes myself... These things never last long. Death is both cruel and kind to them. It ends their dreams swiftly, but at least spares them from a pointless existence of suffering. The Wardens of the Wayward. Be you friend or foe will matter little in the end.
The Nightmare Never Ends Part 9
The death of the necromancer of the Pal'tanir
What joyful carnage, what spectacular destruction. What sorrowful cries echo across the desert. Of all the people's cries, the ones you expect least to be full of sorrow are those of the Veldrani. Giant men and women filled with purpose and cold stoicism, their despair was palpable. I have witnessed their acts of suicide in the past, yet this was somehow different. This was pure, uncontrolled, despair. The necromancer would soon follow, yet this display of mass murder was a thing to admire, a strong effort made possible through proper planning and overwhelming power. The undead was always destined to fall, yet it was still a faraway dream to most. What was real in this case? Was this all a disaster meant to teach the people of the Pal'tanir that their ignorance lead to their suffering? Was this a harsh lesson learned for the Veldrani, clinging to their ways of old even when destiny demands they change lest they perish? Was this punishment for the hubris of this necromancer, his lack of foresight leading him to perish even after he had all that was required for him to succeed? The undead did make for good company after all. They appreciate the fact you give them life by killing those that do not deserve it. The smell is awful though. I am not going to go into the specifics of the destruction of the necromancer. No, I think what is meant to be remembered is his work and what lead to his downfall, not the details of it. I lack the answer to my question, but I at least answer questions I have yet to come up with. I am not yet mad. No, not yet. I was in pain during this entire ordeal, but I felt alive in my boots, strong in my purpose, hard in my armor... I think it brought me joy to know that I felt pain while the dead could only dream of the sensation, for how can you enjoy inflicting pain if the feeling of it eludes your very being? There was one thing, however, that the dead could feel which I understood clearly. One feeling which gave me great pleasure in sensing behind their soulless carcasses. A simple, primal thought that dwells deep inside every being, dead, living or immortal. Divine or Profane, strong or weak, all feel it at least once in their lives, bringing joy to my heart. So thank you, necromancer, for you and your minions fed my addiction to this one, basic feeling. Fear
The Nightmare Never Ends Part 8
One of Tan'ayya's happier days
The siege of Tan'ayya is not going to last long. It is a clumsy attempt at an assault, an attempt to establish not a foothold, but a statement. One such statement was the beginning of this rebellion, a strike against the heart of the snakes held safe by a Dominion that lacks the will to be rid of monsters through force. Through inquisition. Through decisiveness. However, for all their faults, the Dominion bears a heavy hammer when agitated. The rebel forces seek to fight for their dreams, something I do admire, yet it is done the wrong way. The right way is the one I chose. They are but rich men who splash their paint awkwardly and mindlessly across the canvas, leaving behind naught but frustration and broken dreams. It takes one such as me to gather up the leftover artistic materials they leave behind and draw a masterpiece in the sky for all to see. Or the ground for some to tread upon. In such an artistic way I continue down the path of my vision, as I circle Tan'ayya in search of those unfortunate enough to be fighting a losing battle near my position. When I first saw myself shatter before treason, I agreed to fight against the snakes... I never specifically said I would do it their way. I use their broken bodies as a canvas, their spilled blood as paint. With them, I write my story for others to see and follow. What joy do I find in this image of myself, creating art with a smile, accepting the sacrifice and tithe of the people before me. Do not worry young warrior, your death shall commemorate part of a legend written in blood and dream's ink. Your earthly belongings will fund to pave the way towards true freedom. True darkness, where all dreams can find nourishment and safety, until they are ready to surface. As tomorrow comes once more, as promise after promise is made in blood, I find myself still here. None manage to seal me and my dream away, yet more and more try to do so. A nigh endless cycle, a vicious one, enforced by the gods in the name of mortals, a foolish ploy that flies above the ground, yet shyly lest it's faults are revealed. The war will end, my use for it as well, I stride forth as the victor with spoils of war in hand. I used to like the colour red. Now, I love it. I used to love the colour purple. Now, I revere it. I used to fear the dark. Now I live in it. It's inhabitants used to scare me. Now they fear me. One day, they will understand me. One day, they will worship me. One day, I will lead them to the path of freedom. The path of dreams.
The Nightmare Never Ends Part 7
Unknown memories of a date
"I do it for everyone's dreams." That was my answer this time around. The undead beast I had defeated a few times already. The fighting had always been difficult, myself emerging victorious by the skin of my teeth every time. Every time I ask for it, every time we fight and every time I win. Every time after the first it asked me the same question before I destroyed it. I suppose none of my answers have satisfied it as of yet. Be it fire or frost, traps or minions, poison or illusion, I have somehow managed to surpass it's expectations, surprising even myself. I expect it to, at some point, tire of this constant cycle and give in to my request. I truly care little about it. I only want the remnant. It is a very hard thing to do; give up what remains of you to a stranger who asks of it for their own needs and wants. Most words are not enough to even make one consider to offer it. Luckily, I am fluent in 'headbutt'. I have to continue this path if I am to succeed. How long have I been doing this? This is a question I have asked myself a few times. Hopefully the creature will not, for the answer eludes me. As I exit the cavern and the sun shines upon my armor I remember the days I spent walking out of our home father, when I would go out to play with the rest of the family. I'd sing and dance happily, maybe I appreciated art in a different way back then. Strangely enough, it was in a similar fashion that I learned to take the things I require. Using my head had always worked in the past. David always took my ink away and I couldn't write. Chasing him in the wilds was often dangerous and unrewarding. I would only get new ink because you bought me one. However, one fateful day, when the rain poured angrily down the earth, I found shelter under Berun's wings. When I asked him how I would go about reclaiming my ink, he would remind me to use my head. When the rain stopped, I waited for David to leave home and I challenged him to try and keep the ink away from me. As he grinned, hoping to gloat in his coming victory, his words were replaced by a cry of pain, as I used my head. "Between the legs!" I remember you told me to strike men there in case I needed to. I was even at the perfect height. Though you didn't seem to mind. Maybe David was not really a man after all. I put everything I knew about the creature down and tried to come up with ways to convince it to hand over it's remnant. I think using my head will work eventually. I suppose I have to find the correct angle.
The Nightmare Never Ends Part 6
The cold hard stone of this ruined house's floor makes for a poor bedding choice. The smell of dry blood for poor aroma, the sound of the windy desert for poor ambiance. The decrepit interior a poor sight. However, even in such a place, there was art to be found. The magic of a battle's aftermath, the destruction left in it's wake, the death that followed the telling blow, the last words of the one falling, full of sincerity and despair, the satisfaction of victory... The song of battle replaced by the song of the victor. My song. I always had trouble understanding art, yet as the days go by I find more and more pleasure in exploring it's various forms. This man before me, dead, fighting in the name of a leader he probably never met in person, for an ideology he barely understands, is more than just a dead warrior to the eyes of an artist. I aspire to be one. Thus, I see this dead warrior's blood as color to paint with, his body as a canvas, his tears as ink to write lyrics of songs to be sang, his passing as a reason to recite a poem that I wrote out of the blood he drew from me. What a fool I was to ignore art all my life. It has been quite some time since I left the people of the city behind, the bodies of those trying to kill me for them to clean up off the ground. I have felt the taste of sweet victory against my foes as the morning dew of nature, the side I chose being my side no longer. In truth, it never was. Now, the path lay clear before me, as I remember how to live. There is a certain task I have left unfinished and I need to get back to it. I was never a very good talker, but as fortune would have it, I am fluent in 'headbutt'.
The Nightmare Never Ends Part 5
A very happy date
I am having a good day today. It has been a while since I've been to Tan'Ayya. Apparently nobody recognized me. Or maybe they do and they just don't bother. Maybe someone is giving me a chance to go without trouble. To think, I thought you'd gut me if you had the chance, Izha. Maybe not all snakes are bad after all. I've gathered some coin from the fallen and I decided to spend it on nothing other than entertainment. Good food, a warm bath, some new clothes, some fun games and activities... Books too, of course. My armor came off for a change, at least, partially. Nobody knew that I had my chainmail on under that shirt. I rented a rather expensive room for tonight and it is one of the few times I can't wait to fall asleep. I had something to drink too! I hated the taste, though I do not blame those who drink much of it. The effects that come after are rather... Interesting. I believe someone made an attempt at romancing me while I was enjoying my meal at the inn. I realized long after he was gone. He was not my type, as the others would call it, I think. What is my type, though? I am not sure. Romance is the one topic I have never bothered with before. Father once said it would come naturally when I grew up. Perhaps it's just not the time yet. The lamp-light keeping my room awake is slowly dying out and I don't feel like relighting it. I have been hearing strange noises from the room adjacent to mine. I believe I know what they are doing but I dare not think about it anymore. Maybe I will sit down in this chair for a bit longer in the darkness of my room once the light is gone. I absentmindedly locked the door and window and trapped both with a few vases behind them. Something to wake me up if I need to. My maul is resting... Somewhere here. A strange feeling, to not care where I put my most trusted weapon. I can always just return it to my hand, yet I have seen others treating their weapons with respect, as if they were alive. Time to rest. I will sleep in tonight, for tomorrow holds more traveling for me. ( Splotches of blood adore the following page ) OF COURSE! WHAT WAS I THINKING! CURSED SNAKES! CURSED TRAITORS! I WILL BRING DOOM TO ALL ONE DAY! DOOM TO ALL! HOW COULD I LET THIS HAPPEN? HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SO CARELESS!? THE NIGHTMARE NEVER ENDS! THE NIGHTMARE NEVER ENDS!
The Nightmare Never Ends Part 4
A dark date
"I am your death!" Those were her words when we her sword went through my shoulder. "No. I can't die. Please." Those were her words when she lay there, unable to stand after I had crushed her legs with my maul. Many thoughts clouded my mind. My decision. What do I do, father? How many people have begged for their lives before you? What do I do, master? How many lives have you saved? What do I do? Both of you are not by my side to advise me. There is only one thing to do. "What is your dream?" I asked. I didn't think this question through. Her confusion was apparent, justified. I asked again, hoping for an answer. She didn't hesitate to answer honestly, knowing it might kill her. "To save this land from corruption. To stop these damned monsters. Monsters like you!" Her spite was palpable. I could feel it through her voice, her stare. I walked away. "No! Kill me!" She screamed. "You can't fulfill your dream if you are dead. Crawl towards it if you have to. Never give up." I couldn't kill her. Her dream was worth fighting for. Those words came out of me naturally. I speak of dreams often, after all. "Who are you?!" Her words echoed in the emptiness of the desert. "Naught but darkness." I was now alone, away. Somewhat injured but I didn't mind. I will get better. The woman and her words tormented me for a while. Who am I? Did you name me Heather, father? Did Berun name me and I forgot my real name after witnessing our people's slaughter? Did the Shard Keeper name me because my mind broke and I forgot? What is real about me anymore? The only answer I have to this question is... My dreams. I think this is what I must always remember. What I must always keep to heart. What I must always ask those who struggle. Dreams... Enshrouded by all-embracing darkness... I employed this tactic for a few more men and women I fought. I was largely disappointed when most did not even answer me. Those who did, they just didn't have a good enough dream. What a sad existence. At least I serve a purpose. I remind people of their dreams. Is it so bad to do so? Is it so bad to kill those who refuse to dream? To shape their own destiny? What makes someone evil nowadays anyway? I think I am getting closer to my destination. The snake is a necromancer after all. Many thoughts flood my mind. Maybe his salvation will be my own as well. He may be the storm of death, but I am the darkness. He can never be rid of me.
The Nightmare Never Ends Part 3
Undate known? What day is it?
I feel joy. Hope returns to me. I strike at the heart of pain through violence. The one, true, solution to everything. The men are dead. They lie before me. I am covered in their blood. I want to let it dry on me. Does that make me a bad person? What makes one a bad person nowadays? I am not sure anymore. There is nothing more honest than open conflict. A challenge of pure ability and skill. In the end, everyone is left revealed to the others. Their intentions. Their character. Their strength of spirit. I laugh. I laugh out, as loudly as I can. Oh what joy. It hurts but I don't care. I think I need a new weapon. Preferably one that has more bite. The crunch of a maul is good enough but it ends too quickly. The slash of a blade makes them suffer as I have. Torment is what leads to purpose. I remember when I ran from the bear. Father, you would be ashamed of me, the bear was going to be your dinner before it even had a chance to fight back. I wonder, did mother like bear meat? Did she ever mention anything about me? Maybe she hated me, hence why she left. Maybe I am just wrong. At least that is what most people think of me. That I am wrong. Not my ideas. Not my actions. Me as a person. My existence. Wrong. All but one person. Or creature. Or something entirely different than that. What a God should be. His touch was soft and welcoming. It is a touch that changed my life. A touch I will never forget. Master, or new father, you have always been kind to me. You saved me from death and brought me new life. The others thought me strange, yet you knew better. Better than them. Better than me. Better. Maybe your name describes us all. We are not people, just shards. I remember you always gave me reason to continue. Encouraged me to press on. "Heather, you were born of death, so you can never die." you once said. Maybe I did die. Not in body, but in spirit. Maybe I died again recently. Maybe I will die again soon. Blood was ugly to me. Violence appalling. I was not who I am today. I simply didn't know. You tried to talk to me. You tried to pull me back. You tried to stop me. Nothing worked. Except one thing. Violence. Through it, you saved me. I bear the mark of it still. It helps me press on still. It helps me remember. Nowadays I feel empty when I look at the world. It doesn't deserve to burn, yet it doesn't fight against it. Maybe it wants to burn. Maybe the Gods don't want it to get better. Maybe they want to see it burn. Just as I want to burn them. What makes someone evil nowadays? Someone needs to give me the right answer. I tire of shades of grey. I tire of half-truths and white-lies. I want an answer. Or I will make one myself. As I continue this fight, my search takes me to distant lands. Maybe they have the answer I seek. I hope they do. I dream they do... Or when I become justice, my answer will be the one they abide by. None shall escape. All mortals will have to live and die for their dream.
The Nightmare Never Ends Part 2
Darkness... It is safe here. I am not much for hiding, an act of running away, yet sometimes it is necessary. I am in a cave, some kind of underground lair of beasts. The men chasing me can't see in the dark so they fear it, they fear it might be housing terrible monsters that will hunt them as they hunt me. My arms are heavy from swinging my maul for the past day. I have to rest. It is safe here. It is home. These men are not wrong. A terrible monster is indeed here. It reminds me of the old days. Do you remember, father? Do you remember Berun? Jack and Anna? Lisa and Greg? Our friends? Our family? We all lived in a cave, much like this one, decorated with the spoils of your work. The spoils of death. The shadows kept us safe, the caves embraced us and protected us from those wishing to hurt us. And you embraced me as father and mother, even though she was never there. Perhaps, it was my mother you were looking for every time you came to my room. I will look outside. I think it's safe. The men are gone. The dark kept me safe. The light that came into our home was the reason you died. Our friends died. My journey began. Why did the damn light have to come? Why couldn't shadow be the only thing to remain? The Light of the Gods banishes darkness they say... But all it does is expose us to danger. Maybe the shadows are to be treasured. Maybe what we need is darkness. It has been hours and I can't find the last one. The others hid in the light. Fools, kill the torch when you run in the next life. The last one is smart, he hides in the dark. Maybe he deserves to live. The others had enough food on them anyway. I will find the next one later. Berun was good at this. I wonder, what has this whiteness done to him? Where is my friend? My brother? My life?... My dream? I hear the call of violence. I think I found him.
The Nightmare Never Ends
The deserts of the Pal'Tanir have not been kind to me. The ravaging storms, the life of sheltered crime, the corruption of those in charge... The Dominion has disappointed me one time too many. I have not touched this for a while, a book meant to keep my thoughts in check so that I don't go insane. Perhaps, I did lose my mind and I have just barely come back, at least long enough to write down my thoughts. Father... If only you could see me now you would laugh at how your career was less bloody than my own. How my life, has been nothing but a blood-soaked struggle... I was always the observing type, the bookworm, the wannabe scientist, yet today I find my eyes open to a different kind of study. The study of one's own self. Emotions and feelings had been difficult for me to understand. I very rarely felt bad for something and as often felt good about something else, yet it was nice to pretend I did. The very few times I was actually saddened or filled with joy, I felt these emotions to my very core. I studied the cases of people like me. Apparently, some kind of social disorder was the cause, one that made it hard to understand why others acted the way they did, and failing to understand why our feelings, or lack thereof, were different. I was wrong. I am not some anxiety driven girl that fails to understand others. I just don't want to. I just don't care. Father, I am a psychopath. Time went by... This is not a flaw in today's world father, no, it is a trait. There is no shortage of monsters, wearing the skin of man, that will pay you whatever you ask for in order to get you to kill other people, a skill I inherited from you, I am sure. After our supposed success in stopping the Stormcaller, a new power rose in the Pal'Tanir. A rebellion, formed by the supposed right hand of the imposter Caliph, what I like to call "just another snake". Sadly, me and my then friends would be unlucky enough to bear witness to the start of this rebellion, them all dying in the process. I remained, helpless to stop the traitor that was responsible for their deaths... But he gave me a choice. He knew of my hatred for his enemies. My struggle to expose the imposter Caliph in exchange for my own safety. His offer was generous... For a snake. Return to the Shardscape or fight for him. There is a lot to do in these deserts and I cannot leave yet. I chose to stay and fight. The blood of his enemies was now the blood of my enemies. I wonder, how long have we been fighting the same foe? It does not matter now. Aside from the Centhiri necromancer, the voiceless, the Snake God... There is more to do. I was never in good terms with the Gods, but they have the means to an end... Something I must make my own if this existence is to be free of madness. If people like me no longer have to kill in order to survive. If I am to create a better world for those yet to come. If my dream is to come true. The people this snake wanted me to kill were mostly unaware of what was truly behind everything. I was the muscle that tore apart their muscle. It is the one thing I am really good at. I don't remember how long it has been anymore. I don't remember how many it has been anymore. I don't remember. I used to sketch a lot. My hands now won't allow it. If they are not numb, they are shaking, making it difficult to even write these pages. I doubt I will be fighting this war for much longer. The snake is losing and I can tell, his idea of a rebellion was driven by numbers, not people. Even then, people are not to be trusted. At least, not easily. The people I pay tens to be loyal enough to uphold their end of the bargain. I have my next target. The undead practitioner of the arcane did not appreciate my excessive use of violence. I was nice at first, but I have found diplomacy to be less effective when it comes down to getting what one wants. Perhaps when it reforms, it will be more inclined to hearing what I have to say before it simply replies with "Lightning Bolt".