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It's been a while since I posted anything I wrote here, but I wanted to share something I finished a few days ago...but first...explainations are in order.

I've been spending most of my on-line time playing a MMORPG called "Dark Grimoire". It is a very simple, text based game...but also highly addictive. The game is played out in a land called Valorn, of which a principle City is Dundee. Adventurers fight against the demon armies of the big bad guy, Balthazar. They can chose professions (classes) and even form Guilds to better aid one another. Some months ago I was part of a group that founded a new guild, and since then have been very busy admining our website, forums and chat room.

I have also had a great time lately writing biographies for guild members...and what follows is a bio I wrote for a young lady whose character name is "Sevine".


Some stories are easy to tell. They fall off the lips like water cascading down a mountain stream. They spring from the heart like a favorite song. They pass before the mind with all the ease of a spring day. These are the sagas that are sung by bards in the grand chambers of distant castles. These are the legends that are enacted by children at play. These are the tales that are spoken by the flickering light of fire pits. Not all stories are like this. Some are hard to tell. Some seem to leave more questions than answers. Some are maddening to comprehend and present themselves with all the certainty as viewing a dance illuminated only by random flashes of light. These narratives find no ready audience, no waiting minstrel, no children at play. Such is the story of Sevine.


*****


Age 0.
The storm battered the large manor house. Wind whistled around the sharp corners of the jutting profile of the roof, as driven rain slashed against the wooden walls to create an endless staccato beat. This house, stubbornly resisting the rage of the ravening tempest, was considerable by Valornian standards, but it was no Valornian house. This fortress against the gale sat in a land far from Valorn, a realm which no Valornian had ever seen or traveled. A land that was equally ignorant of the existence of a distant place called Valorn.

Despite the late hour the house was abuzz with activity. The windows of the lower levels beamed forth shafts of yellow light that landed in amorphous patches on the sodden ground. The occupants seemed to mill about with a hushed anxiety, and indeed, expectations were high on this storm-tossed night. In an upper room twin girls were being born to the Lord and Lady of the home.

The first-born, later to bear the name Veisne after a paternal Great Grandmother, met the world with a vigorous cry. Already she was resting peacefully on the mother’s stomach, both exhausted from the labor. The second babe came forth limp, her skin a shocking blue color. The midwife struggled to revive the poor infant using the depths of her wisdom and experience which rarely failed, but to no avail. With a resigned sigh she gently laid the lifeless newborn in the mother’s arms. “Dis one has nae life in her, Mum. She’s not meant for dis world”.

The mother cradled her two daughters in her arms, one living and one not, as tears of grief, joy and fatigue streamed down her face. The next moment a bolt of lightning sliced across the night sky and struck the garish weathervane atop the mansion. At the impact, Sevine gasped and took her first breath.


*****


Age 5.
“We’ll never catch one!” pouted Veisne as she threw herself down into the soft, verdant grass. Breathlessly, Sevine collapsed beside her, glaring at the bright yellow butterfly that had eluded their pursuit. With childish optimism she consoled, “Let’s just rest a minute, then we’ll try again”. Veisne rolled on her back to see if any clouds looked like a dragon and sighed “it doesn’t matter, the boys can catch em cause they can run faster”.

The two girls were strikingly beautiful and completely identical for all appearances, with the exception that Sevine was always just a bit smaller. They were also completely inseparable. As Sevine looked with sorrow at her sister, her fingers absently toyed with a large wildflower that grew by her side. Without premeditation, she removed two plush petals from the blossom and cupped them within her tiny hands. For a few seconds she closed her eyes and concentrated intently, then opened her hands to reveal a butterfly. It slowly began to fan it’s wings, but seemed content to perch in her palm. This was no common sulfur yellow insect that inhabited the pastures beside the Manor; this beast had wings that brilliantly displayed every color of the spectrum, which seemed to shimmer in a holographic manner. Sevine gently blew on the butterfly and it left her hand to flutter above Veisne’s face. Veisne gasped, and then burst out with a laugh, “Oh thank you Sev! I love you!” The girls embraced, then fell to the ground giggling because the butterfly had swooped in and tickled their ears.

The butterfly played with them most of the day. It followed them, alternately landing on their shoulders or riding on their heads. Finally, a sudden gust of wind caught the vibrant hued construct and carried it briefly away from Sevine’s influence. Two wilted flower petals floated to the ground.


*****


Age 8.
The man leaned back in his chair and looked intently at Sevine for a moment. His sharp features and glistening eyes bore witness to his knowledge and insight; his long gray hair gave evidence of his age. Alexandor Fazik was the most renowned mage in the land, and rather than seek to live a life of leisure in the courts of the nobles, he had decided to start a school for especially gifted Enchanters. For several years he had trained the very best candidates in a life as arcane artists, powerful magic users who upon graduation led the fight against demon invasions. When he spoke, it was with a decided Eastern twang.

“Sevine, thank you for answering all of my questions and taking my little test...I need to speak to your parents for a moment…could you leave us please.”

Sevine jumped to her feet, gave a quick curtsy, and then rushed to the door of the study. As she opened the door to slip through, Veisne could be seen waiting for her. As the door shut, Fazik turned toward her parents who sat together on the other side of the room.

“She has exceptional potential, raw indeed, but nevertheless exceptional. I have only known one other candidate who was blessed with as much innate ability as she.” For a moment Fazik’s eyes seemed to gaze across time instead of space, but with a quick shake of his head he continued. “But, there is something more in this girl, powers that I don’t fully understand, powers that seem entirely apart from her magical abilities. I would like to extend a full invitation for Sevine to attend my school starting this year, and I can fully anticipate her completion of the entire ten year program.”

Her parents looked at one another for a moment, and when her father spoke it was clear that he spoke for both of them. “Master Fazik, we are honored that you would hold our dear Sevine in such high esteem, but our decision was already made before your visit. We are a close family, in fact Sevine and Veisne have never been apart for more than a day or two in their entire lives. Ten years is far too long for her to be out of our home. We appreciate the offer, but must decline. Perhaps we will consider a local tutor.”

Fazik stirred in his chair and seemed to draw himself up into a more upright position. His long legs had become stiff as he sat, another sign that his own youth was growing ever more distant. “I can certainly understand your feelings, but there are other considerations. A child with such undeveloped powers must have careful and experienced instruction in the formation of said powers. One such as Sevine can easily become a danger to herself or those around her if she is allowed to mature without guidance from another Enchanter. You will not find such guidance from any of your local tutors”.

Her mother answered next. “Nevertheless, our decision is final, Sevine will stay with us.”

The aged Mage looked around the room for a moment, as if seeking to confirm privacy. When his eyes returned to Sevine’s parents they seemed to blaze with an inner light. “I must be blunt, and unfortunately I have little time, so my bluntness will be amplified with haste. Our situation is grim. Every year more of our borders erode to the advancing daemon horde. There has been no communication with the City of Marimar for over a month, and it is feared that all have been slaughtered. We are losing this war, not in any dramatic fashion, but slowly through attrition. When I return to the King and make my report on Sevine, you will then subsequently receive an Imperial decree ordering her to report to my school. We can not afford to overlook any potential combatant for this struggle, but mostly, we can’t afford to lose one such as your daughter to the other side. I’m very sorry that it has to be this way, but this is no longer your decision. I ask you one more time to comply with my suggestions voluntarily…let her come with pride and excitement to my school, not as a ward of the State.”

Her parents looked at each other for a long moment as the truth of the situation began to sink in. Her father gazed sharply at Fazik, his faced etched in obvious anger. “Allow us one week to prepare her.”

“Of course”, answered Fazik, “one week”. He rose quickly, drawing his cloak about him, and left as abruptly as he had arrived, pausing only to nod briefly at Sevine and Veisne who eyed him suspiciously from the landing at the top of the stairs.


*****


Age 16.
Dear Diary,
If you’re not already sitting down, you better be! I have big news…I think I’m in Love! Well, maybe it’s more than “think”…I mean how do I know for sure? I do know that I’ve never felt this way before. For the first time in all these years at Master Fazik’s school, I don’t mind not being at home.

He’s Master Fazik’s nephew, he’s 19 years old and he’s incredibly completely wonderful! He came here two months ago to help out around the school now that Master Fazik is losing his sight. He’s the only one here who isn’t some kind of Enchanter, he claims he’s a “Rogue – reformed”! He’s soooo cute. Oh, and his name is Novaan and I think he likes me too!

Anyway, Diary, I have to dash. Still need to finish my letter to Veisne and study for a Conjuration exam.

Did I mention that he has the most intense eyes?!?


*****


Age 18
As Sevine ran, water sloshed out of the bucket and splashed on her sandaled foot. The frostiness of the spill testified to the depth of the well to yield such cold water on an early summer day. She adjusted her grip and continued to run, the tall soft grass brushing against her calves. The note from Novaan had said “meet me at Our Tree, and bring water”, and although she had no idea why he wanted water, she was determined to arrive at their secret tryst with the contents of the wooden pail intact.

Despite all the times that they had met over the last two years in the secluded glen shaded by the huge oak, her heart still beat fast at the thought of being alone with him. Privacy was hard to come by within the confined spaces of the school, so the regular rendezvous was precious indeed. They had watched the knurled bark of the tree slowly grow over the initials that he had carved with his dagger the day they found the spot. During that daily hour they had grown deeply in love.

She had other reasons for her heart to beat fast on this particular day. Tomorrow, in a small solemn ceremony, she would graduate from Master Fazik’s school, and she would finally be free to live her life. Tomorrow her parents and her dear Veisne would arrive to witness the proud moment, and then she would return home with them accompanied by Novaan. She patted the unopened letter from home that she had tucked into the pocket of her jumper after it had arrived in the daily delivery. They could open and read it together in the shade of The Tree.

Over the next rise she could see the top of The Tree, and she speeded up her pace a bit. It had been a circuitous route she had run, tracing the rough shape of and equal sided triangle, first from the school to the well, then from the well to the tree, but running had never been a problem for her. She could run faster and longer than many of the boys in the school…except for Novaan, he could always catch her. With a grin, she wondered if she really just let him.

As she crested the last hill and looked down into the small dell she knew something was wrong. All around the base of the tree the grass seemed to be flattened and scorched, covered with large patches of a vile greenish-brown. A faint sulfurous smell hung in the air. She stumbled as she continued down the hill; calling out her beloved’s name, first softly then with growing panic as the scene resolved itself to her mind. The large patches of color were areas where the ground was soaked with demon blood, interspersed with copious splatters of crimson human blood. Novaan was no where to be seen. Her eyes desperately scanned the branches of the tree, but could find no trace of him, only the horrifying testimony of the battlefield and the blood.

Near the base of the tree, compressed into the soft earth, she saw an object that shone with a metallic gleam. With fingers that felt strangely numb, she picked up the hilt of Novaan’s dagger, the blade broken abruptly a few inches past the finger guard. Feeling suddenly ill, she spun to scream his name again only to freeze at the sight that met her eyes. On the other side of the hollow, in the direction that would lead to the school, approached a large band of demon warriors. They were heading directly toward her in that obscene shambling gait that was characteristic of the species. Behind them, a black cloud billowed into the blue sky, marking the site of the now burning school. A massive elite demon Officer brought up the rear, Fazik’s head dangling from its hand like a censer.

Sevine felt a frigid chill. Hatred, fear and loathing washed over her in an icy wave. At the speed of thought, almost in companionship with her, the water in the bucket froze into a solid block, shattering the wooden planks. As the first demons drew near, the ice mass sundered into razor sharp shards and shot through the air, slashing deeply into the nearest beasts. Two fell, but the rest continued unabated, and in another second they were upon her.

The first brute literally ran into her, the force of the collision knocking her to the ground. The smell of its putrid body almost caused her to wretch as she fell to the flattened grass, her hand smearing a puddle of human blood. She deftly rolled away, attempting to avoid the attack that was inevitable, hoping that she had enough time to chant a “massive fireball” spell before they fell upon her in undefeatable numbers. When she leaped to her feet to face the enemy, she was stunned by the apparition that met her. The phalanx of demons was passing her by, seemingly oblivious to her presence. They trotted directly to the tree, and as each one reached the thick trunk it appeared to waver then melt away into the very tree itself! Already, over half the war party had disappeared into the arcane portal and within a few seconds only the Officer remained. It paused at the tree, then turned back to face Sevine, its eyes going from her face to the broken weapon in her hand. A foul smile split its face, as it emitted what must have been a laugh before it turned back toward the tree.

Overcome with rage, Sevine flew at the monster, raising the useless weapon in a hopeless gesture to strike. All thought of magic fled her mind as she sought only to rip the creature apart with her own hands. She reached the demon just as its stinking form oozed into the vortex, and unable to stop herself, she fell headlong into it. She felt a strange stretching sensation, and then with a snapping sound heard only in her head, she was engulfed by the supernatural doorway and sucked out of her world.

Three hours later she wandered into the outskirts of Dundee in the land of Valorn.


*****


**Text of the letter received by Sevine on the last day in her homeland**

My Precious Daughter,

It is with a sad heart that I write this letter, and I weep over bringing grievous tidings at a time that should be filled with joy. Veisne has become suddenly very ill. Over just the last week we have seen her deteriorate in a frightening fashion. The clerics have been unable to do anything for her, and she continues to waste away. She will take no food and little water, and her body is continually wracked with dangerous fever and spasms. She asks only for one thing…You. She continually calls out for you during her tormented sleep.

Obviously, your Father and I will not be at your graduation, as we must remain at home to try to care for her. Please return with all haste, if anything can restore our Veisne’s will to live, it will be you. Perhaps Master Fazik can assist you in the use of an Enchanters Portal. Novaan is of course welcome, even if he travels behind you by foot.

Please hurry home, baby. She calls for you even now.

Love, Mother


*****


There you have it. A hard story to tell by all accounts. Sevine wanders an alien land, tormented by the unknown fate of the two persons she loves the most, separated by an indeterminable void. She has thrown herself with abandon into the war against Balthazar and his demon army, realizing that if she is ever to find the path home it will lead through the blood of the Evil One. She carries with her a useless dagger and a ragged letter. She speaks not her sad tale to anyone, but if one has a will and the perception, you can hear her anguish whispered by the wind. An alert observer will see the wetness in her eyes as she turns from testing the substance of a tree.

 

Very nice background story. Sevine is a well thought up character and her story is touching and intriguing.

 

Thanks for the feedback, joacqin. I've never written anything from a "female" perspective before.

 

Like joacqin said - great background story to flesh out a character. Maybe not enough to rest an entire story on her, but she'd fit really well with two or three other characters. Which I guess is what is actually going on, given the CRPG background!

Anyway, I was with the story 'til you wrote:

Your description of the bucket turning to ice shards was fluid, but this reminds the reader that this is a CRPG biography. Which isn't bad given that it IS meant for that, but it's kinda distracting anyway.

One thing, though. Your story is thick with adjectives, which is perfect for the idea of a bard telling a story, like you present in your first and closing paragraphs. But it makes the dramatic boyfriend-slaying climax flow like molasses. You can speed up that part without removing anything - just split up the paragraphs and sentences to make them short and stacatto. Like instead of:

...try:

A very minor change, but it focuses the reader on the sharp, short sentence that's the real focus of your paragraph: something is wrong, and that something is that Novaan is gone.

Was Novaan another ill-fated Dark Grimoire character? Is he still alive? I note that you don't have HIS head swinging like a censer.

P.S. - Post other biographies!

 

Thanks Grey!

I will make the changes you suggested. I badly need an editor and proofreader!