Prelude - Ruby's Story
This is my background story for Lisa's pending DnD game. I decided to write it and my game notes in journal form from Ruby's perspective. Ruby is a young bard from a very strange land embarking on an adventure of mystery, excitement, and self discovery. If you have any comments or questions, please, feel free to ask or post. It will help me become a better writer and to develope the character better. I plan on taking a few artistic liberties with my fellow players and their comments in game. I hope you enjoy.
20th of Tintrain, 1064 SF
My early childhood was a pleasant one, filled with love and laughter, light and joy. It was a bit unconventional, but then my sister and I wouldn’t have it any other way. My fathers loved my sister and me very much. Yes, fathers, one, Aasim, was born of fire, the other, Iraja, was born of the very wind. They were both extraordinary men and they loved each other very much. That really is all I remember about them, that they were beautiful and that they loved their daughters unconditionally.
The desire for children was what led them to our mother, A’isha. She was a common street performer till the day she met them. There was something about her, a vitality, a light, that drew our fathers to her. They struck a bargain with her. She would bear their children and help care for them. In return, our fathers would care for her. She would often say that it was our birth that bound the three of them as a family. Mother said that we completed them, that we completed something in her. Perhaps one day, I’ll understand what she meant by that. I think Jasmin, my older sister, will understand that long before I do.
Shortly after our birth, our fathers moved our little family to Palmshade City. I remember, even at such a young age, the excitement and wonder of moving to such a beautiful place. I remember staring at the first elf I had ever seen, his dark skin almost shining in the bright sunlight. Perhaps my early memories seem so pleasant and bright because what was to follow is full of darkness and despair.
Our fathers were well traveled merchants. They traveled to many places that the other merchants feared to tread. I remember that Mother would make special dinners for them before every caravan trip. The following morning, we would go to the temple of Greian and pray for their safe return. We offered the sun god incense and gold in exchange for their return to our strange little family. Yet the day came when incense and gold were not enough to stave off the inevitable, and our fathers did not return.
Mother did what she could, selling off possessions in order to pay for our tutors and necessities. She refused to sell the signet rings our fathers made for us, holding onto the hope that our fathers would return one day. That day never came and Mother was forced to sell our home, renting a small loft in a shadier district of the city. She returned to being a street performer, but when that did not make enough money to support her children, she turned to selling her body.
During those nights when mother’s body was not her own, my sister and I learned to fend for ourselves. We would run various errands so mother could sleep and recover. Mother always cautioned us to cover ourselves when we left the loft, telling us that our unique appearance would draw unwanted attention. We had our mother’s skin tone, yet we had our father’s hair and eyes. My sister, Jasmin, has hair as white and iridescent as any cloud and eyes the color of the silver moon. My features are harsher, my hair the color of bright fire and my eyes the color of caramel, though Jasmin has often told me they blaze red when great emotions overtake me.
Despite our financial troubles, we were happy, taking joy in the small things in life. Jasmin and I would sing and dance for our mother, writing her stories and plays. Her smile was all we needed in those days. When I think about her now, I try to think about that smile and not about how we last saw her.
It started out innocently enough. As a birthday present, mother took us to see a performance of 1001 Nights. My sister and I were so entranced by it; we didn’t notice our scarves slipping down. By the time we noticed, it was too late. Lord Dayyan al din took notice of us and approached our mother, asking her how much she would sell us for.
Mother, knowing what his intention was, refused him, grabbing us and running from the performance. My sister and I, both young and innocent at the time, did not realize what had happened or why mother was so upset. She began to pack immediately, telling us to pack light and to take only what we could carry. We did as we were told, trying not to be frightened by our mother’s fear.
We ran. We didn’t run very far. It wasn’t hard for Lord Davvan al din to discover where we lived, considering how the three of us stood out. As soon as we got into the streets, we were surrounded by his guard. Mother drew us to her, glaring at him defiantly.
“I will not let you take my children,” she said in her strong yet quiet way. The Lord looked at her, a sadistic smile spreading across his dark face. He didn’t say a word, but gestured with a bejeweled hand to his guard. They drew their bows and arrows and took aim. Mother shielded us with her body, as Lord Davvan knew she would.
I never took my eyes off her face. I saw her pain and understanding as the arrows pierced her body. I heard her gently say, “I love you …I am sorry that I failed you.” I watched as the light, the life, faded from her eyes. My last memory of my beloved mother was of her dying in a vain attempt to protect her children.
I don’t remember too much of that night or the days that followed. I was in too much shock. I vaguely remember my sister and I taken to a large manor outside of Palmshade City. The servants were kind to us, washing us and telling us how beautiful we were. They allowed us to stay together, a kindness we were both grateful for.
Then, one day, a one eyed guard came for us. He took us both out to what looked like forge. We could hear muffled screams from inside. I remember clinging to Jasmin, and her, clinging to me. The guard just looked at us and his expression softened.
“It will only hurt for a moment,” he said, his gruff voice filled with pity. “Stay very still and do not fight and it will be over with faster. If you are both good, I will give you girls a treat.”
I am not sure what it was, the promise of a treat or the kindness in his voice, but both my sister and I calmed. The guard took us into the forge. Darkness and fire were one there and I could see the dark forms of other slaves and guards around us. We waited in the oppressing heat of the forge. When we finally made our way to the forge itself, we realized why there were muffled cries and screams. They were going to brand us. They were going to truly make us possessions of Lord Davvan al din.
I was the first to go to the forge. I remember just staring at the fire, the flames entrancing me. I leaned forward, my eyes still focused on the dancing flames. Large hands held me in place. I felt the blazing pain of the branding iron. The flames still held me under their sway, dancing in time to my cries of pain. My sister was brought to the forge next. She just stared into my eyes and I saw her pain, her fear as the branding iron pressed against her dark flesh. I rushed forward and held her hand, ignoring my own pain.
The next moment, my sister and I were outside in the bright sunlight. The guard was good on his word. Later that night, after the healer spread cool ointment on the brand on my left shoulder blade, he snuck into our rooms and brought us some fresh pomegranate.
The months that followed were confusing for us. Our names were changed. Jasmin became Diamond and I became Ruby. We were told to forget our past. We were told that everything we were and everything we were to become was for the pleasure of our master, Davvan al din.
My sister and I were good slaves, learning everything they taught us over the next few months. We held on to our memories though, reminding each other that we once had fathers who loved us and a mother who died trying to save us from this man. I hated him, a hatred that burned in my chest that gave me the will and strength do to what I had to do. I hoped that one day, one day I would be able to destroy the man that destroyed my family.
A year passed before our master called for us. During that time we were taught to sing, to dance, to sit in a pleasing manner, to be everything a man would want or desire. My sister excelled at it. I think it was more out of her desire to be in a position to protect me than any true ambition on her part. I found myself taking to the training as well, equally determined, yet my motives were different. I hoped to get close enough to our master so that one day, I could kill him.
One night, he finally called for us, his two gems. We both knew what to expect but were not sure how we would handle it. I knew I had to do as I was taught, but my mind, my very spirit was filled with such hatred and disgust, I wasn’t sure if I could perform as I should. Diamond was calm, her calmness reassuring me that I would do what I had to do, for both of our sakes.
The master’s bedchamber was opulent, filled with sheets of the finest silks, wines from foreign land, gold and jewels strewn about the room. Our master was waiting, leaning on various cushions, looking at us expectantly. We danced for him, singing the song we were taught. With every new verse, we shed a garment. Our instructor told us we were to imagine ourselves as flowers, shedding our petals with every turn. I concentrated on dancing with my sister, focusing on my movement and not what I would be doing after the dance.
When we were fully disrobed, we stood before our master, holding each other. His arousal was obvious and he reached for us. We went to him, kissing and caressing him as we were taught. With every touch, every caress, I felt my anger build. Finally, I could take no more and pushed him away, frantically grabbing for my garments. I can still hear him laughing …
He grabbed me, throwing me onto the bed. I fought him, my limbs flailing as I was lost to my own rage and hatred. He just laughed, commenting on how spirited I was. Finally he pinned me under him. I still fought, refusing to give in.
Before he could plunge himself into me, my sister placed a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps we should continue while my sister calms down. She may feel better once she sees me give myself to you, my master.” Her words pleased him. He shoved me away and took my sister. I forced myself to watch, to watch a bit of her light fade as he took her, to watch and to use this memory to fuel my anger, my burning hatred of him. He took me next and I vowed I would make him suffer for every thrust.
The few years that followed were years we merely endured. Diamond quickly became our master’s favorite. I became the harem black sheep, amusing our master with my various acts of defiance. As punishment, he would give me to favored guards and visiting nobles, daring them to attempt to tame my fiery spirit. I refused to submit to any of them, yet knew better than to truly harm any of them. They just left with me a bit more bruised and with interesting stories about the fiery Ruby of Lord Davvan al din.
One such night, I was given to a visiting noble named Kashif. I remember our first meeting clearly and how … foolish I was. I was escorted to his quarters. His room was one of the best my master had to offer, though nowhere near as opulent as his personal rooms. Kashif just looked at me. I placed my hands on my hips and glared back. He smiled at me, and that smile threw me off. At the time, I found it handsome. Now, I think back on that smile, and I see it as the smile of a predator.
“Yes, you’ll do nicely,” he said to himself. He bowed to me, another gesture that startled me. “Do not worry, Ruby, I have no intentions of using your body for my pleasure. As lovely as you are, I normally seek my pleasure elsewhere. Please, sit; I have a … proposition for you.”
Curious, I sat down and listened to his words. As he talked, I saw mirrored in his eyes, the same hatred I felt for Davvan. He offered me the two things I wanted, revenge and freedom, not just for myself, but for my sister as well.
“I need someone who can get close to him,” he said. “I will provide you the training and tools you need. There is a great risk involved. If we are discovered, we will both die in horrible ways. But if we succeed … I will grant not only your freedom and your sister’s freedom, but enough gold that you two can live comfortably the rest of your days.”
I eyed him, suspicious for a moment. This seemed too good to be true. Not only would this handsome noble give me the tools for my revenge, he would grant our freedom. I sat quietly for a moment, just staring at him.
“You are right to be suspicious. I know I would be, were I in your position.” He reached under his shirt and pulled out a chain. He removed it and handed it to me. “This is my sign of good faith, something from your past that one of my men found for me.”
I stared at what was hanging from the chain. It was my father’s signet ring, the stylized fire and wind symbol. My emotions got the better of my and I snatched the ring. I cried, reliving the memories of my past. During my sobs, I agreed to do whatever Kashif wanted of me. I trusted him to be true to his word as I would be true to mine.
Against his wishes, I told Diamond of what had happened. We kept no secrets from each other, and in order to get close to our master, I needed her help. She was as suspicious as I was at first, but then I showed her the ring … and her reaction was the same as I. At that moment, we both placed our faith and hopes on Kashif.
Over the next few months I trained with Kashif’s men, learning the art of creating and using poisons and how to use a blade. Diamond did her part by convincing our master to allow me into their bed, promising unparalleled pleasure. Finally, our master agreed to our request, eager to see if he could finally tame me.
That night reminded me very much of the first night we were taken to our master. We were brought to the same room, wearing matching white and red outfits. We danced the same dance for him, our movements more refined and graceful. Our scarves and garments fell off as petals in the wind. I was not filled with fear, but with anticipation. I kept telling myself to be patient, to savor each moment. Vengeance only comes once.
When we were fully disrobed, we stood before our master, holding each other. His arousal was obvious and he reached for us. We went to him, kissing and caressing him as we were taught. With every touch, every caress, I felt my eagerness begin to build. Diamond moved, placing our master’s head into her lap, kissing and caressing him as I mounted him. His eyes widened in surprise as I slid him into me. I grinned down at him, and something in my face, in my eyes, froze him with fear.
As I moved, I reached up into my long hair and carefully removed two hair pins. These pins had been coated with a special poison, one that would kill our master with the merest prick. The poison wasn’t needed. I was so overwhelmed by my hatred, my anger, that I drove the hairpins into his neck, his chest, his eyes, over and over and over again. I still rode his body as it spasmed and died beneath me, his blood showering over me.
I smiled, a dark emotion filling me. I looked at his blood on my hands and laughed, and my laughter had a crazed sound to it. “Jamila …” my sister softly said. I gazed up at her, and instantly, the darkness left me. Before me was my beloved sister, also covered in our master’s blood, looking at me with concern and love. I got up and took her hand.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said to her, and we fled our master’s room, taking a secret way to our own quarters. We packed quickly, taking some clothes and jewels for our journey. Though we trusted Kashif, we wanted to make sure we were prepared. That caution saved us in the end. Moments later, Kashif along with several guards stormed into our room.
I froze, blood still covering my naked body. Kashif spared a moment to give me an apologetic look before declaring, “This … this woman murdered our beloved lord. Seize her this moment.” The guards hesitated, and in that instant, Jasmin and I dashed past them, our meager possessions in hand. We used the chaos that erupted to our advantage, ducking into a forgotten store room. I threw a robe on as we caught our breaths.
“Is it true?” a male voice in the darkness asked. By his heavy accent, I could tell he was not from here. We cautiously turned, facing the man who had spoken. Before us stood a male guard; his skin was pale and his hair dark. From his coloring and accent, I knew he was from the kingdom north of us, Jaralia.
“Is what true?” I asked, pushing my sister behind me.
“That Lord Davvan was murdered?”
“Yes,” I answered, sensing that the truth was important to this man. He smiled, his eyes lighting up with pleasure.
“Good, may that bastard rot in all nine hells,” he replied. He took a closer look at us and his eyes widened. My sister stepped forward.
“Please, we need to escape this place before they find us … we were betrayed. Please, help us?” My sister pleaded with him. The next few moments felt as if time itself stood still. Finally he nodded, moving in front of us and listening outside the door. I prayed for the first time in years, praying that one betrayal would not lead to another.
While he checked to make sure the coast was clear, I searched the store room. I found several vials of oil. I tossed them into a pack, thinking to use them to cover our escape. The man, Derrek, signaled for us to move. We moved cautiously, every sound making us stop and freeze. Before making it outside, we were discovered. Kashif and more of his guards spotted us. As they moved towards us, I threw all the oil down and grabbed one of the torches, setting that part of the manor ablaze. We ran.
I heard the sound of cracking wood. I stopped and looked up. The fire had spread above us, damaging the supports. The hallway we were in was collapsing. I just stood there, mesmerized by the flames once more. Jasmin pushed me out of the way as the ceiling caved in. I turned and saw her trapped underneath the burning rubble. Derrek ran back and together we dug her out. He carried her as we ran, the fire and destruction preventing any further pursuit.
We hid in the slums of Palmshade City. I did what I could for my sister’s wounds, binding them as best as I could. In her condition, she could not walk, let alone run. I looked at Derrek, deciding then and there that I would trust him, at least for the moment.
“We need to find a way to Jaralia. Will you look after my sister while I look for a caravan heading out of here?” I pleaded, my voice sounding a bit empty and hallow. Derrek just nodded, too tired to speak.
I watched over them that night and in the morning, I prayed once more for a way to escape these lands. I am not sure if the Sun God heard my plea or not, but I was able to find a caravan willing to take us out of the city in exchange for mine and Derrek’s services, Derrek as a guard, and I ... as entertainment for the traveling merchants.
The journey to Jaralia was a difficult one. I sold my services, my body, for food, lodging, and transportation out of Seven Sands. Derrek and I did what we could for my sister, taking turns seeing to her needs. Jasmin took it all in stride, remaining cheerful and optimistic. Guilt overtook me. I still blame myself for her inability to walk.
When we finally made it to Jaralia, we discovered that we traded one hell fo another ...