Post by Allana on Dec 12, 2008 18:49:09 GMT -8
Warning: This background contains violent material and in at least one chapter content of a sexual nature that could be viewed as offensive to some.
Several times its been hinted at and stated outright that people would like Allana's background, however due to the content of a couple scenes that were integral to the character concept, I've been apprehensive about writing it out in length. I've also had bad experiences with revealing character weaknesses in history and them being openly abused IC'ly. So, fair warning, I will attempt to gloss over as much of the graphic content as I can, but as it is a key turning point for her, I'm not sure how much luck I will have at that. This is the first part of her story, finally finished. All information herein is to be considered OOC knowledge, unless divulged in an IC setting by Allana, Ale, or Amathal (who only knows portions).
Chapter 1: Dreams of Glorious Adventure
The young girl stared bored out the window. Her elbows were propped up on the window sill, her chin resting lightly on her interlaced fingers. She was a lanky girl, wiry arms, knobby joints, scraped knees, with messed tousled hair, even mistaken for a young man now and then. She lacked the curves that most of the girls her age were already displaying. Hardly a resemblance of the beauty her mother had supposedly been, but as all teens, she was still growing. Her drooping eyelids and somber expression did not do much to make her look any prettier either.
It had been raining all day, and showed no sign of stopping even as evening approached. This was no mere sprinkle or mist of rain, but an outright downpour. It wasn't uncommon this time of year on Talking Island, surrounded by water and rivers such weather was quite common, but it did not make it any more pleasant. The clouds seemed to hang in the air, great gray abysmal beasts sucking the life from the land beneath them. The ever present beating of the raindrops on the shingles seemed to be almost hypnotic in nature, only broken by flashes of lightning and their brief rumble of thunder. She was grateful that her father slept on though this display of elemental chaos. In his old rocking chair, still cradling a near empty bottle, he snored peacefully.
From her vantage point, at the window, she could make out the road that lead to their small homestead and inn, now thick with mud, and pooling with puddles of murky water. Twice since she'd taken up this watch today the rare adventurous soul had appeared in the gray gloom, and approached the conjoined inn. Wrapped from head to toe in oilskin cloaks and expensive white furs, they were always the same, soaked to the bone despite all their protection against the weather. Their boots waterlogged and heavy with with mud from their travels. But most importantly, all too happy to pay the overpriced coin for a dry bed, warm fire, and whatever edibles offered that night. As she watched, a brief bolt of lightning shattered the sky and just before its brilliance had faded she saw the silhouette of another traveller braving the road. That would be the third today, three would never fill all eight of the Inn's rooms, but their coin might keep the old man's temper down.
Soundlessly, she scrambled up, donned her own worn cloak, that barely served as any protection, and slipped off to the inn. If she did not do it, her father would have to, and life was better while he slept. Entering through the back door, she shrugged off the cloak and draped it over a peg on the kitchen's wall and replaced it with a fresh apron. Taking a moment to toss another log on the dying embers of the fire, she observed the soup that was still simmering in the old iron pot. Ladling just a bit, she took a tiny taste. It was a common fare at the inn; elpy with noodles, carrots, turnips, and a heavy handed blend of spices. It made her stomach rumble reminding her that she'd not eaten since early that morning. It was luke warm still, she should have checked the fire sooner, there was no helping it now though.
The tiny chime of the brass bell over the door in the common room told her the guest had arrived, and she needed to hurry. Hastily she returned the ladle and scurried out into the lobby, adjusting the over sized apron. "Hello? Hello?" She heard a man's voice say. The voice was light, though masculine, and carried an air of measured patience about it, nothing like her father's voice which was more akin to a grizzly's roar and always thick with impatience and weighed down with displeasure.
"Right here, sir! Right here, sir! Can I..." Her wet footwear betrayed her as she hurried over to the counter, and she disappeared from view with a solid thud. "...erm... help you?" She managed the last half of her question, wincing and grappling with her hands at the inside of the counter as she fought the pull herself upright, she could feel the cold damp of the water she'd tracked in seeping through her britches already. She should have wiped her feet, how could she have forgotten that?
Before she could right herself, the stranger was standing over her, a hand outstretched to help her up. "Ah, young miss, allow me to help you first?" He was smiling, amused by her, but not in an unkind manner. Now that she had a good view of him she understood why his voice had seemed so unfamiliar. This man was not like the other guests in the inn. His hair was a golden color and as reached all the way to his shoulders, divided by two graceful pointed ears. He was an elf! She had heard of them, some of the other adults spoke of them from time to time. He certainly didn't seem the, what had they called them, Pointy eared devils? Yes, that sounded right... but it did not match this friendly smile or the look of concern and curiosity she saw in this elven man's eyes.
With a tiny squeak she realized she was gawking at him like an idiot and seized his hand hastily."Uhm, yes, yes, I'm so sorry mister. So sorry. The floor. It was wet, I just came in. I was going to..." She rambled on her words a jumbled mess racing off her tongue as he helped her up. Her cheeks tinged red, she could feel them burning. "...we have a room and, and, and, soup if you want. It's gotta heat a bit. I can check it if you want!"
"Nothing to apologize for. Soup would be fine, young miss. I think first I should like to warm by the fire." He released her hand gently when she was fully upright, and was trying not to chuckle at the flurry of words, she could see. He was not upset with her, nor indiferent to her momentary plight like most of their patrons would have been. He did not point and laugh or call her stupid. He was so very unusual. "Perhaps some tea? I would very much like that, but no haste. It is good to be out of the rain. Bless Eva, but traveling on her waters in this weather is dreadful." He extracted a small pouch of coins, which could have easily paid for all the rooms of the inn, and pressed it into her palm.
"Uhm, tea? I think we have some." She gave a nod, finally managing to regain some composure. "You traveled here by, uhm, by boat?" She could not help herself, her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own and she was so curious about this stranger. There was another elf who lived on the island, but she rarely spoke, and rarely left the temple. Despite her curiosity and her eagerness to hear his response she knew she should be putting together a pot of tea and seeing to the man's supper.
"Why yes, young miss, but the boat was only part of the journey. I could have used a gatekeeper I suppose, but that takes all the excitement out of traveling." He smiled settling down into one of the rustic chairs beside the common room's hearth. She noticed with a pang of guilt that that fire too had been let to dwindle and hurried over to see to it, still listening greedily to this strange visitor. "I do not get to leave the Ivory Tower often, you see, so I make the most of it when I am able to. Tomorrow I shall make for your magic school, they've ask me to give a lecture on water based magic. A most interesting topic." He paused glancing to her still smiling despite his damp clothing and hair. "Ah, but I'm sure you are not concerned with water magic."
She had placed another log on the fire, and was still stirring the coals with a poker when she looked back up to him with a look of wonder. "You are from the Ivory Tower? The Ivory Tower?" Her incredulous expression spurred him to continue. He talked on for a great while, the topic shifting from the tower to other places he'd seen. Cities she'd only heard of in fables and lands she had only half believed existed. She took it all in while she scurried back and forth from the kitchen preparing his meal of elpy soup and tea. To her it was like hearing the wisdom of the ages, marvelous, exciting and new. It sounded so much better than this rainy little island, and this battered old inn. She spoke from time to time as well, telling him about her explorations of the island and she was midway into a somewhat exaggerated tale about saving a poor little elpy from the biggest keltir she had ever seen when the back door slammed hard.
"Allana Lynn" A voice bellowed, loud and clear enough to make even the wise elf flinch. She winced despite herself. That grizzly voice only belonged to one man, and it sounded furious. With a murmured apology she excused herself from the inn's guest and timidly slunk back into the kitchen. It was always the same. He would find something she had done or not done to be angry about. She mentally began to tick off the things he'd raged over in the past. There was plenty of soup left, she'd not spilled any that she had noticed, her cloak was hung on the peg by the door. With a look of dread she came to face the bulky form of her father. His jaw was set, and a vein pulsed in his forehead, she could smell the scent of alcohol on his breath, it was all such a familiar occurrence. His brows were drawn sharply, and his eyes bored down on her searching for flaws. "There is mud tracked all through my inn. How many times have I told you to wipe your feet?"
She bit her lip. "At, at least once." She replied warily looking at the kitchen floor and the drying smears of mud. "I will clean it up, I'm sorry. It won't happen again." But he seemed not to hear her and his words drowned out her weak apology.
"To think your mother died and left you for me to deal with. Don't you lie to me you little brat. I've told you many times. Many times." He waved his finger in her face tauntingly. "I am so tired of you ignoring me. I know I told you to pick up two more bottles of whiskey, too." She winced. He had told her to do that but the store was all the way in the village and it had been storming all day long.
"It's been raining. I...." She began.
The backhanded blow of his hand struck her heavily in the cheek and she dropped into a heap on the floor, cowering. "I'm tired of your lies and excuses." He glared down at her, in all his fury. She tensed for more blows. He rarely stopped with one, especially after he'd been drinking. He held his hand out still poised to strike then with a scowl he growled and turned his back on her, letting his arm drop "Go to bed, liars don't sup at my table." He strode over to the still simmering elpy soup and peered down into the pot. "You've nearly let it burn, too. Stupid brat." he muttered sourly, but she still heard.
Stifling tears she gingerly pressed a hand to her bruised face. It came away bloody, where her lip had been broken. Mutely, she rose, and scrambled out of the inn. When she reached her room she flung herself onto the bed and cried into her pillow. She hated this miserable island. She hated this miserable inn. She hated her father. She fell asleep with tear stained cheeks, dreaming of the places the elven man had spoken of. She dreamed of being a valiant paladin out of the legends and saving children from horrible abusive men. In her dream her armor was the color of fresh snow, and her sword gleamed with an angelic hue, and evil fell away before her. It was a wonderful dream, but like all dreams it vanished when she next woke.
Several times its been hinted at and stated outright that people would like Allana's background, however due to the content of a couple scenes that were integral to the character concept, I've been apprehensive about writing it out in length. I've also had bad experiences with revealing character weaknesses in history and them being openly abused IC'ly. So, fair warning, I will attempt to gloss over as much of the graphic content as I can, but as it is a key turning point for her, I'm not sure how much luck I will have at that. This is the first part of her story, finally finished. All information herein is to be considered OOC knowledge, unless divulged in an IC setting by Allana, Ale, or Amathal (who only knows portions).
Chapter 1: Dreams of Glorious Adventure
The young girl stared bored out the window. Her elbows were propped up on the window sill, her chin resting lightly on her interlaced fingers. She was a lanky girl, wiry arms, knobby joints, scraped knees, with messed tousled hair, even mistaken for a young man now and then. She lacked the curves that most of the girls her age were already displaying. Hardly a resemblance of the beauty her mother had supposedly been, but as all teens, she was still growing. Her drooping eyelids and somber expression did not do much to make her look any prettier either.
It had been raining all day, and showed no sign of stopping even as evening approached. This was no mere sprinkle or mist of rain, but an outright downpour. It wasn't uncommon this time of year on Talking Island, surrounded by water and rivers such weather was quite common, but it did not make it any more pleasant. The clouds seemed to hang in the air, great gray abysmal beasts sucking the life from the land beneath them. The ever present beating of the raindrops on the shingles seemed to be almost hypnotic in nature, only broken by flashes of lightning and their brief rumble of thunder. She was grateful that her father slept on though this display of elemental chaos. In his old rocking chair, still cradling a near empty bottle, he snored peacefully.
From her vantage point, at the window, she could make out the road that lead to their small homestead and inn, now thick with mud, and pooling with puddles of murky water. Twice since she'd taken up this watch today the rare adventurous soul had appeared in the gray gloom, and approached the conjoined inn. Wrapped from head to toe in oilskin cloaks and expensive white furs, they were always the same, soaked to the bone despite all their protection against the weather. Their boots waterlogged and heavy with with mud from their travels. But most importantly, all too happy to pay the overpriced coin for a dry bed, warm fire, and whatever edibles offered that night. As she watched, a brief bolt of lightning shattered the sky and just before its brilliance had faded she saw the silhouette of another traveller braving the road. That would be the third today, three would never fill all eight of the Inn's rooms, but their coin might keep the old man's temper down.
Soundlessly, she scrambled up, donned her own worn cloak, that barely served as any protection, and slipped off to the inn. If she did not do it, her father would have to, and life was better while he slept. Entering through the back door, she shrugged off the cloak and draped it over a peg on the kitchen's wall and replaced it with a fresh apron. Taking a moment to toss another log on the dying embers of the fire, she observed the soup that was still simmering in the old iron pot. Ladling just a bit, she took a tiny taste. It was a common fare at the inn; elpy with noodles, carrots, turnips, and a heavy handed blend of spices. It made her stomach rumble reminding her that she'd not eaten since early that morning. It was luke warm still, she should have checked the fire sooner, there was no helping it now though.
The tiny chime of the brass bell over the door in the common room told her the guest had arrived, and she needed to hurry. Hastily she returned the ladle and scurried out into the lobby, adjusting the over sized apron. "Hello? Hello?" She heard a man's voice say. The voice was light, though masculine, and carried an air of measured patience about it, nothing like her father's voice which was more akin to a grizzly's roar and always thick with impatience and weighed down with displeasure.
"Right here, sir! Right here, sir! Can I..." Her wet footwear betrayed her as she hurried over to the counter, and she disappeared from view with a solid thud. "...erm... help you?" She managed the last half of her question, wincing and grappling with her hands at the inside of the counter as she fought the pull herself upright, she could feel the cold damp of the water she'd tracked in seeping through her britches already. She should have wiped her feet, how could she have forgotten that?
Before she could right herself, the stranger was standing over her, a hand outstretched to help her up. "Ah, young miss, allow me to help you first?" He was smiling, amused by her, but not in an unkind manner. Now that she had a good view of him she understood why his voice had seemed so unfamiliar. This man was not like the other guests in the inn. His hair was a golden color and as reached all the way to his shoulders, divided by two graceful pointed ears. He was an elf! She had heard of them, some of the other adults spoke of them from time to time. He certainly didn't seem the, what had they called them, Pointy eared devils? Yes, that sounded right... but it did not match this friendly smile or the look of concern and curiosity she saw in this elven man's eyes.
With a tiny squeak she realized she was gawking at him like an idiot and seized his hand hastily."Uhm, yes, yes, I'm so sorry mister. So sorry. The floor. It was wet, I just came in. I was going to..." She rambled on her words a jumbled mess racing off her tongue as he helped her up. Her cheeks tinged red, she could feel them burning. "...we have a room and, and, and, soup if you want. It's gotta heat a bit. I can check it if you want!"
"Nothing to apologize for. Soup would be fine, young miss. I think first I should like to warm by the fire." He released her hand gently when she was fully upright, and was trying not to chuckle at the flurry of words, she could see. He was not upset with her, nor indiferent to her momentary plight like most of their patrons would have been. He did not point and laugh or call her stupid. He was so very unusual. "Perhaps some tea? I would very much like that, but no haste. It is good to be out of the rain. Bless Eva, but traveling on her waters in this weather is dreadful." He extracted a small pouch of coins, which could have easily paid for all the rooms of the inn, and pressed it into her palm.
"Uhm, tea? I think we have some." She gave a nod, finally managing to regain some composure. "You traveled here by, uhm, by boat?" She could not help herself, her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own and she was so curious about this stranger. There was another elf who lived on the island, but she rarely spoke, and rarely left the temple. Despite her curiosity and her eagerness to hear his response she knew she should be putting together a pot of tea and seeing to the man's supper.
"Why yes, young miss, but the boat was only part of the journey. I could have used a gatekeeper I suppose, but that takes all the excitement out of traveling." He smiled settling down into one of the rustic chairs beside the common room's hearth. She noticed with a pang of guilt that that fire too had been let to dwindle and hurried over to see to it, still listening greedily to this strange visitor. "I do not get to leave the Ivory Tower often, you see, so I make the most of it when I am able to. Tomorrow I shall make for your magic school, they've ask me to give a lecture on water based magic. A most interesting topic." He paused glancing to her still smiling despite his damp clothing and hair. "Ah, but I'm sure you are not concerned with water magic."
She had placed another log on the fire, and was still stirring the coals with a poker when she looked back up to him with a look of wonder. "You are from the Ivory Tower? The Ivory Tower?" Her incredulous expression spurred him to continue. He talked on for a great while, the topic shifting from the tower to other places he'd seen. Cities she'd only heard of in fables and lands she had only half believed existed. She took it all in while she scurried back and forth from the kitchen preparing his meal of elpy soup and tea. To her it was like hearing the wisdom of the ages, marvelous, exciting and new. It sounded so much better than this rainy little island, and this battered old inn. She spoke from time to time as well, telling him about her explorations of the island and she was midway into a somewhat exaggerated tale about saving a poor little elpy from the biggest keltir she had ever seen when the back door slammed hard.
"Allana Lynn" A voice bellowed, loud and clear enough to make even the wise elf flinch. She winced despite herself. That grizzly voice only belonged to one man, and it sounded furious. With a murmured apology she excused herself from the inn's guest and timidly slunk back into the kitchen. It was always the same. He would find something she had done or not done to be angry about. She mentally began to tick off the things he'd raged over in the past. There was plenty of soup left, she'd not spilled any that she had noticed, her cloak was hung on the peg by the door. With a look of dread she came to face the bulky form of her father. His jaw was set, and a vein pulsed in his forehead, she could smell the scent of alcohol on his breath, it was all such a familiar occurrence. His brows were drawn sharply, and his eyes bored down on her searching for flaws. "There is mud tracked all through my inn. How many times have I told you to wipe your feet?"
She bit her lip. "At, at least once." She replied warily looking at the kitchen floor and the drying smears of mud. "I will clean it up, I'm sorry. It won't happen again." But he seemed not to hear her and his words drowned out her weak apology.
"To think your mother died and left you for me to deal with. Don't you lie to me you little brat. I've told you many times. Many times." He waved his finger in her face tauntingly. "I am so tired of you ignoring me. I know I told you to pick up two more bottles of whiskey, too." She winced. He had told her to do that but the store was all the way in the village and it had been storming all day long.
"It's been raining. I...." She began.
The backhanded blow of his hand struck her heavily in the cheek and she dropped into a heap on the floor, cowering. "I'm tired of your lies and excuses." He glared down at her, in all his fury. She tensed for more blows. He rarely stopped with one, especially after he'd been drinking. He held his hand out still poised to strike then with a scowl he growled and turned his back on her, letting his arm drop "Go to bed, liars don't sup at my table." He strode over to the still simmering elpy soup and peered down into the pot. "You've nearly let it burn, too. Stupid brat." he muttered sourly, but she still heard.
Stifling tears she gingerly pressed a hand to her bruised face. It came away bloody, where her lip had been broken. Mutely, she rose, and scrambled out of the inn. When she reached her room she flung herself onto the bed and cried into her pillow. She hated this miserable island. She hated this miserable inn. She hated her father. She fell asleep with tear stained cheeks, dreaming of the places the elven man had spoken of. She dreamed of being a valiant paladin out of the legends and saving children from horrible abusive men. In her dream her armor was the color of fresh snow, and her sword gleamed with an angelic hue, and evil fell away before her. It was a wonderful dream, but like all dreams it vanished when she next woke.
