Letters from Beyond

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Dawnbreak
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Letters from Beyond

Postby Dawnbreak » Sun Nov 20, 2016 1:34 am

Word would spread, perhaps within days, in the circles of adventurers that roamed Sarshel and the Uplands of Impiltur; The Cormyrean Ranger, Élise, is no more. Felled by an ogre on a foolish quest, one that may be spoken of in afterthought. Her broken body was buried along the Royal Road, by a tree that she was said to frequent and nestle on. From her pack, letters were discovered, ones meant for those she seemed to have considered near and dear... As a wanderer, it may come as no surprise that the contents of each are meant for the day of her departure from Impiltur.

In a sense, she has done so.

Mother,

I write to you despite my knowledge that you are dead, and I call you such despite the knowledge that you are not. Though compared to the one that has birthed me, surely do you beat her in all the ways in which such things matter. I am not, and was never, of your kin, nor did my fate have to matter to you. Yet you were the only one to know of the truth of my plight, in all the years since, and were the only one I would have surrendered such easily to. You have taught me all I know, all I have groomed, and have given me your view of Life to bear. Never is my own life worth more than another's, and never will I decline to lend another my aid, same as you have done to me. Same as you have saved me with your life, and surrendered yourself to those that would seek me brought into the fold of justice.

It matters not, in the end. Once winter has ended, I will make my leave toward Chondath by ship. Far enough away from it all, for me to be able to begin a truthful life. One without the mask I wear, and the pretenses of safety. I will start anew, for you, and all others I have failed.

My love, and my regret, remain eternal.

Élise
The letters henceforth mostly repeat each other, with small variations in between - the attentive would note the hand that held the quill was shaky, unlike the first. Various splotches of ink can be found.
Damien,

I should hope that you receive this letter in good health and good spirits. I have left Impiltur, though it is with a heavy heart I do so. Leaving behind a group of folk I could never have dreamed of meeting, though regrettably have done naught to befriend. Know that risking my life has never felt so endearing without your sheepish, humorous backside striding near.

You must realize why I could not be more than a companion to you, as this letter serves as my attempt at asking forgiveness. The life I had left behind in Cormyr was one of imprisonment, and through deplorable acts only have I escaped such.

It is likely I am still hunted for it, and it is why I am leaving. Know that I am not as I have seemed, though the chance to remedy it now is long gone.

May the leaves of your life never turn brown,

Élise
Anton,

I should hope that you receive this letter in good health and good spirits. I have left Impiltur, though it is with a heavy heart I do so. Leaving behind a group of folk I could never have dreamed of meeting, though regrettably have done naught to befriend. To you, I have little to say. We both seem to have been carved from the same rock, one that is carved easily, but broken impossibly. Secrets left for those we trust most, no? As horrid as it may sound, your being there warmed my heart. Made me know that I am not alone in suffering.

You must realize why I could not be broken. Why my mold, even with what would seem a kindred spirit, has remained unbroken, as this letter serves as my attempt at asking forgiveness. The life I had left behind in Cormyr was one of imprisonment, and through deplorable acts only have I escaped such.

It is likely I am still hunted for it, and it is why I am leaving. Know that I am not as I have seemed, though the chance to remedy it now is long gone.

May the leaves of your life never turn brown,

Élise
Aleira,

I should hope that you receive this letter in good health and good spirits. I have left Impiltur, though it is with a heavy heart I do so. Leaving behind a group of folk I could never have dreamed of meeting, though regrettably have done naught to befriend. My regret may lie deepest with you, my sister on the Path. I wish I would have known more of you, and you of me.

You must realize why I could not, as this letter serves as my attempt at asking forgiveness. The life I had left behind in Cormyr was one of imprisonment, and through deplorable acts only have I escaped such.

It is likely I am still hunted for it, and it is why I am leaving. Know that I am not as I have seemed, though the chance to remedy it now is long gone.

May the leaves of your life never turn brown,

Élise
Lev,

I should hope that you receive this letter in good health and good spirits. I have left Impiltur, though it is with a heavy heart I do so. Leaving behind a group of folk I could never have dreamed of meeting, though regrettably have done naught to befriend. In another life, you might have been my brother. Your jests keep me on my feet at the worst of times, and even in the idle moments where all seems fine, you find a way to make it all that much better and not so idle.

You must realize why I could not be as I truly am, as this letter serves as my attempt at asking forgiveness. The life I had left behind in Cormyr was one of imprisonment, and through deplorable acts only have I escaped such.

It is likely I am still hunted for it, and it is why I am leaving. Know that I am not as I have seemed, though the chance to remedy it now is long gone.

May the leaves of your life never turn brown,

Élise
The final few pieces of parchment have lost the structure and similar format that most others held. The writing became near incomprehensible. Some words seemed as if they had been smeared away by water.
Merney,

I am not sure what to say to you, with this. Maybe that you are one of few, no, the only one I have ever felt the need to admit my troubles to, the troubles that makes me so silent. Those troubles that make me so impossible to be around, what in turn hurts not only me, but you, and others. The only person I could consider a true friend, in a full length of life. A life lead in lies, in masquerades, in suffering. Despite these feelings, there is a side of you that yet reminds me of what, and who, I loathe. Perhaps it is why I have never confided in you, though such terror has left my mind in the last while.

I have not told you enough, though this letter will tell you more than what you already know. The only one to have known, has been just as dear to me, is now dead, though the circumstance were not at all alike.

I have killed a man. The man I was married to for years, the man that has made my empty, meaningless life even worse. A man of war and death, one that came to treat me as chattel - an act that was not new in my short life, though the way with which it was done was beyond my ability to suffer. I could not stay, and though my mind knew there was no other way, I could not bring myself to do it. None would have heard me, were I to say what life with him was. Thus, I took his sword, and slew him, in his sleep, and escaped with it, only to bring down the ire of both his family and my own, and the chasing hounds and horses of bounty hunters, ones that I have only lost mere tendays before arriving in this land of everwinter.

His sword now hangs on my belt, as a reminder of what I have done, and what my past entailed.

I ask you for forgiveness.
Forgiveness, for my sudden departure, and for not giving you the proper goodbye you deserve.
Forgiveness, for not simply being who I am. Though in truth, I am not sure there is such a person anymore.

Élise might have never existed at all.

May the leaves of your life never turn brown,

Élisabeth Duval
Merney,

I feel as if my letter to you did not suffice, so I am writing another to fit in the same envelope.

I am off to Chondath, and such do these letters serve as my goodbye, though I do believe I might yet return, perhaps after the next winter or when I deem it safe enough





The writing ends abruptly, as if the writer decided to finish it at a later date.

Though none will ever know the rest of it.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

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Danuvis
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Re: Letters from Beyond

Postby Danuvis » Sun Nov 27, 2016 12:06 pm

In the tenday that the Cormyrian had perished, the letters are belatedly delivered in person to each of the addressed individuals wherever they may be found, though should they not be available in the same tenday, the parchments are left for such an occasion that their paths would cross. With each, the Damaran is taciturn, meek, and speaks in reserved, low tones, lingering in one's presence for only as long as is needed - his mannerisms and movements fatigued, weary, and grieving.


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