The tragedy of a fallen DnD character
The 3.5 dungeons and dragons game that angelrogue ran for myself, vaminion, fletch02, pvtzombi, and occasionally ghatti6382 came to its triumphant conclusion a while back. I like to think the last scene was the group standing in front of a dirt mound with a sheathed katana sticking out of it, the sun setting behind it. That scene would be a memorial, remembering someone as the comrade-in-arms he was instead of the maddened thing he had become. That someone was my character Nashael.
So at work, I was putting something onto a flash drive and stumbled upon this little bit that looked like it was going to be a short story type backstory for him. I now subject you to it.
"Will that be a problem?"
The blademistress smiled patiently.
"Your gold gaurantees his admission to this school," she said to the foppish aristocrat in front of her. "Moods will have no effect on the instruction he receives."
The nobleman seemed to relax slightly and smiled. Turning slightly, he beckoned to the boy kneeling by the reflecting pool. As the sullen-eyed youth stood and approached, the blademistress noted with some irritation that the boy had disturbed the water with his hand, causing ripples that would be hours in ceasing. Disorder annoyed her and that annoyance immediately predisposed her to dislike the youth.
He was a gangly boy of about eight or nine years with mussed brown hair and eyes that were downcast. The blademistress sensed no fear, but rather a sense of resignation tinged with resentfulness.
"Nashael," the noble began, "This is mistress Karnelia, and she has agreed to accept you as a student to the Eastern Horizon School. Are you not grateful?"
There was no response.
"Are. You. Not. Grateful?" The noble's jaw was clenched. Karnelia's eyebrow climbed a hair. The tone of the noble's question silently appended the words "you little devil" to its end.
"Yes, sir," the boy finally mumbled.
The tension once again fled the air and the noble straightened and smiled. "Excellent. I will return to our lodgings and arrange for his belongings to be sent here in the morning." Karnelia suppressed a smile. Students were allowed few possessions, and the belongings of a noble would simply be sold to help pay for the upkeep of the school.
"You have the thanks of house daMaskos, mistress Karnelia," he continued. Keep your thanks you arrogant prat, she thought. "Should you require anything more of us, please do not hesitate to send word." His smile said that it would be a cold day in hell before the word was answered.
She remained impassive as he bowed and spun on his heel. This boy Nashael was not the first problem child that the school had taken from a noble family and was unlikely to be the last.
"Come here, boy," she said after the noble had left.
He did so, shoulders slumped, feet dragging as if begrudging every step. His eyes never left the floor.
"You are not happy to be here, are you?"
"No."
She fought down more irritation. "Blademistress."
"Huh," he responded stupidly.
"You will refer to me as Blademistress. Or ma'am. At all times. Do you understand?"
There was another short, sullen silence. "Yes ma'am," he said at last.
"Very good. You will begin tomorrow. You will rise at dawn with the other students and begin laboring the fields. When your overseers decide that you are ready, you will be allowed to join them in the drilling yard."
"You mean like a farmer? I don't wanna work in the fields like-"
The sound of her palm meeting his cheek cut his statement short and left a frightening stillness in its wake. The boy began to tremble. Karnelia was not a large woman, but years of practice with a blade as well as similar practice disciplining wayward students had given her a slap that could make an orc weep. She let her hand stay poised for a moment, letting the rattling of a wind chime fill the air before she spoke.
"You will rise at dawn. You will labor in the fields. You will scrub the kitchens. You will do any number of other humble chores. You will not have to like it. You will have to obey. Do you understand?"
As she waited for a response, it occurred to her that there was precious little wind. Certainly not enough to warrant the rattling that the chime was making. For that matter, why was the chime making a confused clamor instead of a pleasant tinkling? It was as though the chime was being seized and shaken.
The boy's head slowly turned to face her, she realized that his trembling came not from supressing sobs, but containing anger. From her peripheral vision, she saw the reflecting pool rumbling, as though it was a pot that was slowly being brought to a boil. When his eyes met her for the first time, she had to vigorously put down the urge to reach for her concealed blade.
So much hate.
Seconds that seemed like days passed.
"I understand. Ma'am."
So at work, I was putting something onto a flash drive and stumbled upon this little bit that looked like it was going to be a short story type backstory for him. I now subject you to it.
"Will that be a problem?"
The blademistress smiled patiently.
"Your gold gaurantees his admission to this school," she said to the foppish aristocrat in front of her. "Moods will have no effect on the instruction he receives."
The nobleman seemed to relax slightly and smiled. Turning slightly, he beckoned to the boy kneeling by the reflecting pool. As the sullen-eyed youth stood and approached, the blademistress noted with some irritation that the boy had disturbed the water with his hand, causing ripples that would be hours in ceasing. Disorder annoyed her and that annoyance immediately predisposed her to dislike the youth.
He was a gangly boy of about eight or nine years with mussed brown hair and eyes that were downcast. The blademistress sensed no fear, but rather a sense of resignation tinged with resentfulness.
"Nashael," the noble began, "This is mistress Karnelia, and she has agreed to accept you as a student to the Eastern Horizon School. Are you not grateful?"
There was no response.
"Are. You. Not. Grateful?" The noble's jaw was clenched. Karnelia's eyebrow climbed a hair. The tone of the noble's question silently appended the words "you little devil" to its end.
"Yes, sir," the boy finally mumbled.
The tension once again fled the air and the noble straightened and smiled. "Excellent. I will return to our lodgings and arrange for his belongings to be sent here in the morning." Karnelia suppressed a smile. Students were allowed few possessions, and the belongings of a noble would simply be sold to help pay for the upkeep of the school.
"You have the thanks of house daMaskos, mistress Karnelia," he continued. Keep your thanks you arrogant prat, she thought. "Should you require anything more of us, please do not hesitate to send word." His smile said that it would be a cold day in hell before the word was answered.
She remained impassive as he bowed and spun on his heel. This boy Nashael was not the first problem child that the school had taken from a noble family and was unlikely to be the last.
"Come here, boy," she said after the noble had left.
He did so, shoulders slumped, feet dragging as if begrudging every step. His eyes never left the floor.
"You are not happy to be here, are you?"
"No."
She fought down more irritation. "Blademistress."
"Huh," he responded stupidly.
"You will refer to me as Blademistress. Or ma'am. At all times. Do you understand?"
There was another short, sullen silence. "Yes ma'am," he said at last.
"Very good. You will begin tomorrow. You will rise at dawn with the other students and begin laboring the fields. When your overseers decide that you are ready, you will be allowed to join them in the drilling yard."
"You mean like a farmer? I don't wanna work in the fields like-"
The sound of her palm meeting his cheek cut his statement short and left a frightening stillness in its wake. The boy began to tremble. Karnelia was not a large woman, but years of practice with a blade as well as similar practice disciplining wayward students had given her a slap that could make an orc weep. She let her hand stay poised for a moment, letting the rattling of a wind chime fill the air before she spoke.
"You will rise at dawn. You will labor in the fields. You will scrub the kitchens. You will do any number of other humble chores. You will not have to like it. You will have to obey. Do you understand?"
As she waited for a response, it occurred to her that there was precious little wind. Certainly not enough to warrant the rattling that the chime was making. For that matter, why was the chime making a confused clamor instead of a pleasant tinkling? It was as though the chime was being seized and shaken.
The boy's head slowly turned to face her, she realized that his trembling came not from supressing sobs, but containing anger. From her peripheral vision, she saw the reflecting pool rumbling, as though it was a pot that was slowly being brought to a boil. When his eyes met her for the first time, she had to vigorously put down the urge to reach for her concealed blade.
So much hate.
Seconds that seemed like days passed.
"I understand. Ma'am."