Post by Haden on May 4, 2011 10:56:27 GMT -5
The Chronicles of Haden
*An average brown leather-bound book, with crisp, pale ochre pages, the spine appearing unbroken. (It appears new.)*
Prologue
It is an odd time for me to begin narrating my life, however I do feel compelled to do so. Perhaps if I had been keeping a journal I would not be missing some parts of my life to amnesia.
My name is Haden Kiara McMillan. I am twenty-one years of age. I am studying to be a paladin, like my father. I was born in Luna, Malas, and raised in the crystal forests just on the outskirts of the holy city. My parents were honest, my father employed by the city as a guard, and my mother a homemaker. I had a typical childhood; I went to school, learned to read and learned the code of chivalry. It has always been expected that I follow in my father's footsteps, the son he never had but always wanted. I was even named after him. Haden. "Such an odd name for one so fair", they would say. I wear my name with pride and dignity. After all, it is all that I have left of those that brought me into this world and raised me.
It is a tragedy that a man as brave as my father did not die in the heat of battle, defending the city he loved so much. No, both he and my mother became ill and died from a virus that spread too quickly for treatment. They passed in their sleep, the fever too high to break. They were thirty-three and thirty-six, far too young to leave this plane. I do hope that they have found comfort, and are still together in the afterlife. I believe in my heart that a love such as theirs persevered.
Love. That was a much talked about topic this evening, which is one of the reasons I was drawn to purchase a journal for my thoughts. So here I sit, alone in a double-occupancy room at a hostel near the enemy of mine beloved city and write.
Back to my story. I was training in Trinsic when I received word of my parents sickness. By the time I reached them, they had already succumbed to the fever and the coroner was awaiting my instructions for burial. I did what any proper daughter would do. I gave them an honest service in the chapel and I have their ashes, together, in an urn I keep in my safety deposit box until I secure a permanent residence. My training in Trinsic was completed, and I found myself in Yew, drawn there by the Empath Abbey.
Being an empath has not been an easy life for me. For as long as I can remember, I have been able to feel the emotions of others around me. Sometimes this is easier than others. There are times when the emotions are so strong emanating from the other person that they overwhelm me, seeping into my own body and threaten to take control of me. The monks at the Abbey have helped teach me how to control these emotions. I am grateful for the compassion that they showed me. None of them have the same gift that I do, and they seemed to be genuinely interested in hearing how different emotions affected me. Luckily, they were not as curious about them as my training instructors in Trinsic and I was not subjected to the same experiments. Perhaps I should not put those in print.
Twas my time at the Abbey that I met Lord Durreah and became a part of his Village of Aegis. I was given a room at the Knights Rest Inn, and that is where I stayed for some time, until such events occurred that caused me to have a memory lapse of several months. No one is able to explain to me what occurred during that time, only that I disappeared for several months, and when I returned I had no recollection of what had transpired. I had complete amnesia for a long while, until my long-term memory slowly recovered. My short-term memory eventually recovered as well, and I learned that some people that I trusted above all others betrayed me and had placed false memories into my blank mind. Luckily, the mind is a powerful thing and it recognized the falsehoods that were placed inside and over-wrote them with the correct information. I have been able to move on with my life without much incident and for that I am forever grateful. My body did receive several scars from the time of my disappearance, of which I have no idea how they got there. I have been told there are magicks that can remove them, or at least fade them, but they could be the key to a part of my life that is missing, so I must keep them.
Scars. Another subject of the evening. He thinks scars are ugly. Ugly. Scars are but a tale of hardships that one has endured, and overcome. They are proof one is alive, testament of courage and strength. And his were beautiful.
Entry 1
Tonight I went to Umbra in search of a rare mushroom I was told grows in this detestable city. I sought assistance at the inn, however the innkeeper completely ignored my inquiries. If he hadn't moved, I would not have even known that he was sitting there behind the desk. It was not until introductions were made, (and this was even after pleasantries!) did I learn that this was the man they had spoken of at Galehaven. Vlad. Vlad Dracul.
I had heard his name spoken between the woman known as Calli and another; a woman who looked like a warrior. I overheard them speaking about him injuring a man. I am inquisitive. I asked him about it. His hand flew to his kryss. This is also something I noticed. Observative and inquisitive. My training was not done in vain. My empathic abilities were on high alert, I could feel the raging storm within him. So many emotions. Such trouble, rage... it was all ready to burst out. But there was so much more there, just beneath the surface. He was trying so hard not to feel anything but hate and anger, but everything else was there. I was able to calm him, though I have a tendency to also push a button or two, so he was riding waves, though it appeared his senses were definitely overcoming his blood lust. As the night grew on, I felt a sort of camaraderie had formed. A visitor showed, he told me I should go. My only words to him were to be careful, and I left as a beautiful woman, armed upon a steed dismounted and entered the inn. She looked familiar though I could not place her. I hope the night ended well for them.
What am I to do? I know where a wanted man lies in wait. He seeks to claim more as his victims, yet I sense within hesitation. The pain that radiates from deep inside is enough to bring one to their knees. I had to sit upon the table between us in order not to buckle beneath the weight of it. I do not think he noticed. My.. gifts.. are something that I tend not to share until trust is gained, and while I am compassionate and quick to lend aid, my trust is not freely given.
A long conversation was had. I believe a soul was bared. Does he know all he shared? If he realizes it, would he seek me out to reveal more or to silence me from learning what else lies beneath that cold hard exterior? And what of the mysterious woman. He obviously knew her. Was this the wife he spoke of? Had I left her in danger? Surely he could not strike down such a beautiful woman, even in a rage of jealousy. I must seek him out on the morrow. It will surely be a restless night.
*An average brown leather-bound book, with crisp, pale ochre pages, the spine appearing unbroken. (It appears new.)*
Prologue
It is an odd time for me to begin narrating my life, however I do feel compelled to do so. Perhaps if I had been keeping a journal I would not be missing some parts of my life to amnesia.
My name is Haden Kiara McMillan. I am twenty-one years of age. I am studying to be a paladin, like my father. I was born in Luna, Malas, and raised in the crystal forests just on the outskirts of the holy city. My parents were honest, my father employed by the city as a guard, and my mother a homemaker. I had a typical childhood; I went to school, learned to read and learned the code of chivalry. It has always been expected that I follow in my father's footsteps, the son he never had but always wanted. I was even named after him. Haden. "Such an odd name for one so fair", they would say. I wear my name with pride and dignity. After all, it is all that I have left of those that brought me into this world and raised me.
It is a tragedy that a man as brave as my father did not die in the heat of battle, defending the city he loved so much. No, both he and my mother became ill and died from a virus that spread too quickly for treatment. They passed in their sleep, the fever too high to break. They were thirty-three and thirty-six, far too young to leave this plane. I do hope that they have found comfort, and are still together in the afterlife. I believe in my heart that a love such as theirs persevered.
Love. That was a much talked about topic this evening, which is one of the reasons I was drawn to purchase a journal for my thoughts. So here I sit, alone in a double-occupancy room at a hostel near the enemy of mine beloved city and write.
Back to my story. I was training in Trinsic when I received word of my parents sickness. By the time I reached them, they had already succumbed to the fever and the coroner was awaiting my instructions for burial. I did what any proper daughter would do. I gave them an honest service in the chapel and I have their ashes, together, in an urn I keep in my safety deposit box until I secure a permanent residence. My training in Trinsic was completed, and I found myself in Yew, drawn there by the Empath Abbey.
Being an empath has not been an easy life for me. For as long as I can remember, I have been able to feel the emotions of others around me. Sometimes this is easier than others. There are times when the emotions are so strong emanating from the other person that they overwhelm me, seeping into my own body and threaten to take control of me. The monks at the Abbey have helped teach me how to control these emotions. I am grateful for the compassion that they showed me. None of them have the same gift that I do, and they seemed to be genuinely interested in hearing how different emotions affected me. Luckily, they were not as curious about them as my training instructors in Trinsic and I was not subjected to the same experiments. Perhaps I should not put those in print.
Twas my time at the Abbey that I met Lord Durreah and became a part of his Village of Aegis. I was given a room at the Knights Rest Inn, and that is where I stayed for some time, until such events occurred that caused me to have a memory lapse of several months. No one is able to explain to me what occurred during that time, only that I disappeared for several months, and when I returned I had no recollection of what had transpired. I had complete amnesia for a long while, until my long-term memory slowly recovered. My short-term memory eventually recovered as well, and I learned that some people that I trusted above all others betrayed me and had placed false memories into my blank mind. Luckily, the mind is a powerful thing and it recognized the falsehoods that were placed inside and over-wrote them with the correct information. I have been able to move on with my life without much incident and for that I am forever grateful. My body did receive several scars from the time of my disappearance, of which I have no idea how they got there. I have been told there are magicks that can remove them, or at least fade them, but they could be the key to a part of my life that is missing, so I must keep them.
Scars. Another subject of the evening. He thinks scars are ugly. Ugly. Scars are but a tale of hardships that one has endured, and overcome. They are proof one is alive, testament of courage and strength. And his were beautiful.
Entry 1
Tonight I went to Umbra in search of a rare mushroom I was told grows in this detestable city. I sought assistance at the inn, however the innkeeper completely ignored my inquiries. If he hadn't moved, I would not have even known that he was sitting there behind the desk. It was not until introductions were made, (and this was even after pleasantries!) did I learn that this was the man they had spoken of at Galehaven. Vlad. Vlad Dracul.
I had heard his name spoken between the woman known as Calli and another; a woman who looked like a warrior. I overheard them speaking about him injuring a man. I am inquisitive. I asked him about it. His hand flew to his kryss. This is also something I noticed. Observative and inquisitive. My training was not done in vain. My empathic abilities were on high alert, I could feel the raging storm within him. So many emotions. Such trouble, rage... it was all ready to burst out. But there was so much more there, just beneath the surface. He was trying so hard not to feel anything but hate and anger, but everything else was there. I was able to calm him, though I have a tendency to also push a button or two, so he was riding waves, though it appeared his senses were definitely overcoming his blood lust. As the night grew on, I felt a sort of camaraderie had formed. A visitor showed, he told me I should go. My only words to him were to be careful, and I left as a beautiful woman, armed upon a steed dismounted and entered the inn. She looked familiar though I could not place her. I hope the night ended well for them.
What am I to do? I know where a wanted man lies in wait. He seeks to claim more as his victims, yet I sense within hesitation. The pain that radiates from deep inside is enough to bring one to their knees. I had to sit upon the table between us in order not to buckle beneath the weight of it. I do not think he noticed. My.. gifts.. are something that I tend not to share until trust is gained, and while I am compassionate and quick to lend aid, my trust is not freely given.
A long conversation was had. I believe a soul was bared. Does he know all he shared? If he realizes it, would he seek me out to reveal more or to silence me from learning what else lies beneath that cold hard exterior? And what of the mysterious woman. He obviously knew her. Was this the wife he spoke of? Had I left her in danger? Surely he could not strike down such a beautiful woman, even in a rage of jealousy. I must seek him out on the morrow. It will surely be a restless night.
