[Valdorian Age]A Short Story

[AliceTheOwl]

This story covers events that happened to my character, Kessa Iceraven, while she was travelling to Elweir. This is before the events beginning in Josh's campaign log.

 

That she was traveling alone wasn't immediately apparent, nor was the fact that she was female. It was only a luck of fabric being pulled taut that revealed feminine curves beneath rumpled and dirty clothing. She spoke to no one, but such a trait was common amongst the Barbarians passing through; many didn't speak the local tongue, so kept silent altogether. The locals had seen many Barbarians pass through in bands of up to twelve without ever acknowledging their fellow travelers. The only thing that gave her away as a solo venturer was the innkeeper where she stayed, who confirmed that she arrived alone and inquired of no one.

 

Still, neither attribute was particularly notable. Barbarians were known for such foolish, bullheaded behavior, as to travel into unknown territory alone. They were best left to their devices. Very few carried anything of any value. She should have passed on through without so much as a second glance from the local thieves.

 

But for her purchase of passage. For when she did so, it required the procurement of funds, and she revealed to all nearby a chunk of gold nearly the size of her fist, which she'd been hiding beneath her clothing, around her neck. She cut off a piece large enough to pay for her passage, and seemed to take no note of the dozens of eyes on her prize.

 

The decision was made in her absence: she must return the following day to board her ship, and there were numerous twisting alleyways she had to pass along the way. Six men agreed that they would band together in getting the better of her, then divide her gold between themselves. During the appointed time and place, they were certain, in their minds, of their victory before even approaching her. They confronted her in an alley barely wide enough to fit three of them, side by side.

 

That she showed no fear when they showed themselves gave them some pause. So one thief stepped forward, declaring she wouldn't be hurt if she only turned over the gold.

 

They certainly hadn't expected her to laugh, and only one of the men present that day failed to be surprised by the axe in her hand.

 

She replied, in the guttural accent of the northern Barbarian tribes, "YOU won't hurt ME? How fortunate." Her sarcasm was evident despite the language barrier.

 

She didn't strike immediately, which gave some street urchins time to hear the fight and gather around on the rooftops. It is they who passed along the story of the axe-woman, for, once she was surrounded, none of the six men had a chance. Though they struck at her, she moved away from their blows as if shrugging off a breeze. Then, there was a whirl of motion where she stood, and all six men fell, bleeding and screaming in pain. Three died instantly. The sixth man had moved away from her blows, but still been injured. He made as if to swipe at her. She stepped out of the way of his blade. The urchins cringed, waiting for her blow to come back down.

 

It never did. Instead, she stared at the remaining thief until he shrank away from her.

 

She said to him, deliberately and in that accented voice, "Brave, but foolish. But I need you alive to tell your ilk what happens to those who underestimate an Iceraven. Don't let them make the same mistake." Then she turned and walked to her ship.

 

Would that he had passed the word along, but his wound from her axe festered, and he died a week later. The story, instead, has passed along the urchin's lips, to the point where no sane man believes such a woman ever existed.

 

And who knows if she ever did? No one's seen her since, and the boatmen all shrug and laugh when asked about a woman with an axe, saying yes, they've heard the story, too. Presumably she caught her boat and has never seen a reason to return to our city.

[Eoywin]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

Very good... though I wonder if our current travels will take us to that town.

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

Heh. Actually, they will. This is the route Kessa knows, you see . . .

[Eoywin]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

Very cool...

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

Yeah, Josh got that, "Hey, I can use this" look when we were discussing it yesterday. (I e-mailed it to him to make sure it fit with the tone and such before posting it.)

[ghost-angel]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

short and sweet... Reads like it was told fireside, intentional I presume.

 

Cool

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

Quite intentional. It's meant to be a retired, bored merchant retelling the story to travellers at a tavern.

 

Josh tells me it fits the tone and style of Robert E. Howard's stuff pretty well, which surprises me, because I've never read any of his work.

[Curufea]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

GMs love when players are creative and help make plots for them

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

GMs love when players are creative and help make plots for them

Mine sure does. ^ v ^

 

Apparently he's working this around with stuff he already had planned to make a really interesting plot in the next city we come to. I can't wait.

[Vondy]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

Quite intentional. It's meant to be a retired, bored merchant retelling the story to travellers at a tavern.

 

Josh tells me it fits the tone and style of Robert E. Howard's stuff pretty well, which surprises me, because I've never read any of his work.

 

I can see the similarity. On the other hand, Howard was much more energetic (some would argue "purple") in his prose, but that doesn't necessarily mean better. It makes him one of the hands down masters of action sequences, but it doesn't serve him so well in terms of dialogue or nuance. You seem to have a subtler hand, which will work for you in those areas. Your story is well written and achieves its end, I think.

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

^ v ^

 

Thank you. High praise indeed.

[Bik Britelite]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

Great story Alice!

 

As for the writing and similar authors, I can't give an example. Sort of a "I may not know art, but I know what I like." kind of attitude. Which is sad, since I was an art major.

 

Anyway, great story and keep 'em coming. Sounds like a woman after my favorite Barbarians heart.

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

The below takes place before the events of the previous story. This is basically Kessa's first taste of civilization, and it helps to flesh out a lot of why she copes as well as she does with the real world, despite the huge differences between her clan and the rest of the world. I've found the feedback so far to be really helpful and encouraging.

 

*

 

She entered my life much the same way she left it: quietly, without a word.

 

I was outside during the full moon, basking in its light to recharge my magical energy, as I do every month. I was some distance away from my fire, which she must've been drawn to. When I returned to the fireside, there she was, warming her hands as if she belonged there.

 

I might have chastized her for rudeness, had I not noticed she'd tended the fire before helping herself to it. Likely she'd thought the coals to be abandoned, and was as surprised to see me as I was her. She'd put a fresh load of dry wood onto it, and it was warm and burning brightly. She'd also staked some meat to cook, and offered me some, wordlessly.

 

She was unmistakably Barbaric, though, without speaking, I couldn't place her origin. She had the fair coloring of some of the more southerly Barbarian tribes, but the tanned skin of one who spent her days on the plains.

 

So I asked her, in my faltering Tribespeak, where she'd come from.

 

Her reply was short, too short to place her accent: "North."

 

However, it was long enough that I recognized a feminine alto, and I realized that she was not an effeminate male, but a strong and hale woman.

 

I had thousands more questions for her, to determine her origin, but the questions died with the arrival of the beasts that prowl at night. They, too, must have been drawn to my fire. I readied a spell to eliminate the threat, while the woman stood and pulled a large axe from the bundle she'd been carrying. The axe was huge, far bigger than anything I could've even carried, and sharp as a razor.

 

She made short work of the beasts, then wiped the blood off her axe and returned to her evening meal. She wasn't even out of breath.

 

I asked her then what her name was. When she spoke her tribal name of Iceraven, I remembered two stories I'd heard. The first described fierce, axe-wielding warriors, as fast as they are strong. This fit with what I had seen moments before. The second was a story I had laughed off as exaggeration. One mercenary I'd hired, several years before, had bragged of bedding a dozen women at once, of the Iceraven clan, after besting one in single combat. Certain details had indicated that perhaps he'd experienced one or two, and expanded this number to impress his fellow mercenaries. He'd looked back on this event most wistfully, and had indicated a desire to return to them before he died.

 

Alas, he had fallen in combat before realizing this dream.

 

Kessa, as it turned out, was headed to Valdoria, to the main city, she said. I asked her if she might stay long enough to earn enough money for her passage, as I was looking to hire a bodyguard. She asked what the pay would be and, finding it sufficient, agreed. I also agreed to teach her the Valdorian tongue, well enough to get by, at least, in return for her protection.

 

And a skilled protector she turned out to be. She was unfazed by the use of magic, though curious about why I did some things the way I did. She understood new ideas quickly, though she showed no particular preference to learn the related skills. Instead, she was content to hone her skills in fighting and protecting.

 

I soon learned that she carried a deep sense of honor. She refused to strike anyone who posed no threat to her, and would back away from any foe who'd lost or dropped his weapon. She refused to be any part of a situation where her allies outnumbered her foes. A situation any ordinary mercenary might have shrank from, where she was outnumbered and with the tactical disadvantage, she charged in, and emerged the victor. I found her impossible to be bested by normal tactics used by the outnumbering force, as she was skilled in a maneuver which injured all who surrounded her, her large axe moving faster than my eye could follow.

 

As the summer months approached, I learned of her comfort in her skin, as I'd come upon her in a state of undress, exercising or fanning herself to cool off. Despite her heavy musculature, she had feminine curves beneath her loose clothing, it turned out. While I did not consider her the pinnacle of beauty, I did find her nakedness distracting. She didn't understand, at first, why I insisted she keep her clothing on when it was so hot, but she obeyed my order that she remain dressed, nonetheless. Over time, I learned there were many orders that puzzled her, but that she obeyed nonetheless. Her loyalty, it seemed, was more important than understanding.

 

She spoke rarely, and only when asked a direct question. She learned the Valdorian tongue quickly, but chose not to use it. She did away with greetings, thanks, acknowledgements of praise, or any social niceties at all. She was serious and stoic the entire time she was in my employ. I never so much as caught a smile from her.

 

This is not to say she was stupid or dull. Her eyes told a different story than the rest of her face. There was often a sorrow there, and I began to think this journey was fueled by some great loss she'd experienced. She never spoke of it, and I never worked up the nerve to ask her about it. I asked her once about her clan, her family, and she had only one word for me: "Different." As I had already seen for myself that she didn't act the role of the traditional female, I had more questions, but kept them to myself.

 

I discovered that, as much as she knew about fighting and combat, she was unconcerned with feminine arts. She didn't know how to cook, beyond thoroughly cooking meat so she didn't get sick, and experienced utter bafflement when handed a sewing needle. A servant tried to show her how to use it, and it snapped in her hand. Another servant placed her in charge of watching over my infant daughter, and returned to find Kessa sharpening her axe-blade while the baby howled hungrily. She offered no apology, but left abruptly. When I asked her about it later, she expressed confusion as to why a servant would assume the bodyguard was the best person to care for a child, and such a fragile one, at that.

 

It was the most she'd ever said to me at once, and it revealed a lot to me about how the Iceravens must operate. I realize now that they must not hold the traditional roles that so many other tribes hold so dear. Whether there is a warrior caste and a caregiving caste, or whether the sex roles are reversed, I don't know. But "different" certainly sums it up well, in any case.

 

I wish that I could say that I was a perfect gentleman in the face of such an impressive creature. Barring that, would that I could say I discovered for myself what my former employee must have experienced during his one night with the Iceravens. Neither came true, though. When my curiosity finally got the better of me, she rejected my advances. I had thought I would be dealing with a naive young girl, but she proved cunning enough to recognize my attempt for what it was, and pushed me to arm's length away.

 

Embarrassed by the rejection, I asked her what she would do if I forced her to do my will, with my magic.

 

She replied, in the same even, expressionless tone she always used with me, that she would kill me.

 

I chose not to test her word on this. I knew better.

 

Eventually, the days grew shorter and the nights cooler. One morning, the cook told me that Kessa was rifling through the cabinets, taking more than her fair share of the food. I went into the kitchens to find this was true, and asked Kessa if she was preparing for a journey. She nodded, and continued stowing food. I asked if she had enough money to make it to Elweir, which received another nod. So I turned and went back to my library.

 

I had half-expected her to come up to say good-bye, but was unsurprised when I saw, from my window, a single figure setting out on foot. She'd told me from the beginning she would be leaving me, and it was my own deficiency that kept from asking her when that might be. In fearing that bringing up the subject would make her wish to leave sooner, I lost track entirely of how short a time I would have her in my employ.

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

Please feel free to ask about background questions on this story; I've deliberately left a few points vague or unanswered.

[ghost-angel]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

You have an excellent Story Tellers style of writing. Looking forward to more...

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

Thanks!

 

Though I'm really not sure how much more this character will yield. I can't imagine much of an eventful sea voyage to Elweir, and Josh has been writing about her current doings in the campaign log.

 

And she isn't introspective enough to lend us HER perspective on any of this.

[Thag13]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

I owe Alice Repp!!!!

 

Great Story.

 

I look forward to reading more.

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

I'm currently putting together a story about why she had to leave in the first place, but am not sure what perspective I want it, or how to fully illustrate that she hasn't ALWAYS been so quiet and withdrawn without making it seem like I'm talking about someone else entirely.

 

But I'm working on it.

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

This is the account of a neutral observer, reporting on the events which got Kessa banished from her tribe.

 

In all my thirty years at the Barbarian Outpost, here in the north of Abyznia, I have witnessed many feuds between rival clans, seen many people cut down, but no rivalry has been as fierce as that between the Iceravens and the Wolfrocks. It may well be because of their close proximity in territories. Even a slight infringement of territory, imagined or real, can fuel bloody battles which leave both sides weakened and lesser in numbers. Most scholars who visit to study the clans surmise it is because the Iceravens rely on their cunning, whereas brute strength serves the Wolfrocks just as well, and these philosophical differences fuel their hatred for one another. My own theory revolves around their gender roles; Iceraven women are much more numerous than their men, and so the women take on the men's roles. This seems to offend the traditionally-minded Wolfrocks.

 

In any case, it shouldn't have seemed particularly strange that a Wolfrock and Iceraven should clash on a winter's morning, nor was it odd that it should erupt in violence and death.

 

What unsettled me most was the backlash of the event.

 

But allow me to start from the beginning, by introducing the players.

 

Belun Wolfrock was a brash young man, very prone to bragging or exaggerating, somewhere between 25 and 30 summers of age. He was also a mean, violent bully. Not all of his bragging was unfounded, since he was a very skilled swordsman. But he had a reputation for picking fights with whoever crossed his path in the trading post, and showing no mercy with those on the losing end. He was not above feigning a loss to gain an advantage. This made him less than dirt, in the eyes of the honor-bound Iceravens.

 

Kessa Iceraven was no quieter or soft-spoken than Belun, but she never boasted or exaggerated. She did prove an excellent source for background information on the Iceravens. When she was very young, she would talk my ear off about clan traditions and why women served so many of the men's roles and how it was the clan hadn't died out, despite its curse on its menfolk. She had a lot of pride in her clan, her "family", as she called them, and wanted me to tell the whole world how wonderful they all were.

 

On this day, she was traveling to the trading post for the first time since reaching her adulthood. She'd told me this with some measure of pride that morning, upon her arrival. A while later, the rest of her accompanying clanswomen off trading, she had turned her back on the young Iceraven boy who'd accompanied the trading party. When she returned to him, Belun was there, taunting and tormenting the boy.

 

She quickly stepped in to intervene, accusing Belun of cowardice for picking on a small boy. Belun laughed and said that was why they had such trouble keeping their men alive, if they treated them like delicate little girls like that all the time. She replied, her eyes hard as steel, that there was a time and a place for making a child stronger, and it wasn't his role to perform.

 

It progressed into a shouting match from there, with Belun making some lascivious remarks toward her that I won't reproduce here. I half-expected her to cover the boy's ears, or even blush.

 

She did neither, but laughed. "Ah, is THAT what you came for?" she asked him, pulling out the axe she'd earned for passing the tests of adulthood. "You know how it goes; beat me in a one-on-one, I'm all yours."

 

Madok, Belun's older brother overheard this, and waved over other clan members to watch the fun. There was a brief scuffle between Belun and a younger brother, who protested that he'd wanted the chance, first. Belun pushed him away, to his clansmen's amusement.

 

At this point, Kessa seemed unfazed by the attention she was gathering, only waited for Belun to draw his sword. The color on my own face deepened for her sake. I had heard her refer to her clan's breeding practices before, but never witnessed the logistics involved. And I certainly hadn't realized their practice was so well-known to the other Barbarians.

 

Belun finally replied to her, saying in his coarse words that he wasn't interested in sleeping with anyone who was the product of relations mating. Her face twisted into a snarl, and she struck at him.

 

He unsheathed his sword just in time, and her blow clanged off his blade, leaving him shaken. He defended himself, parrying her blows, just barely, then attempting to fight back. All of this was accompanied by the vulgar chants of his clansmen, with the exception of the rebuked brother. He only watched the proceedings, sulking.

 

Finally, she drove him back, and her axe sliced his right arm. The force of the blow knocked his sword out of his hand. She kicked at his legs, and he fell, sprawling, on the ground.

 

She held her bloodied axe to the side of his nose. "Now, you know as well as I do that that's a lie. Say it."

 

He called her a filthy name, and she pressed her blade to his face. A new spurt of blood opened up, and he cried out in pain. "Fine! It's a lie!" he cried, realizing she would kill him if he didn't correct himself.

 

She put her axe away, gave each of the men gathered a look, gauging whether they would say anything stupid. One appeared to consider attacking her, for his friend's honor, but decided against it when he realized he'd stand alone.

 

But as soon as her back was turned, Belun leapt to his feet. He wanted to take advantage of the Iceraven honor, by taunting her when she wouldn't strike him, so he left his sword on the ground. He began to unleash a new string of profanity at her back.

 

She didn't hesitate, but turned, and cleaved him in two before he finished his sentence.

 

There was a moment of stunned silence, then she saw the sword on the ground, lying where he'd dropped it, and swore. Though I had seen numerous deaths in my days at the outpost, I felt a chill, knowing that this woman I remembered as a chatty young girl could turn killer so quickly.

 

Soon after, the rest of the Iceravens, drawn by the noise of the fight, arrived, and asked what had happened. Kessa was white, and silent. The Wolfrocks told a story of what happened which conveniently left out Belun's cowardice in bothering the young boy, and that Belun had started it. I cut in to correct them, but, even if I wasn't of a rival clan, I wasn't a Barbarian, and they silenced me. The boy, too, tried to tell them that it wasn't entirely Kessa's fault, but Kessa herself silenced him, with a sharp glance. She didn't contradict the Wolfrock lies.

 

I didn't learn what became of Kessa until nearly six months later. The Iceravens wouldn't speak to me of it, and other tribes only expressed puzzlement and confusion, as they had heard several different accounts of events. Of all sources, the news came from Belun's younger brother, Gren, the one who'd tried to stop his brother from fighting her. He said that she was gone, to restore her honor, and that she'd been sent to Elweir, to get them weapons and supplies. He said he'd spoken to her before she left, and spoke of how defeated and lost she appeared.

 

Of all of the deaths I've seen in my days among the Barbarians, none have shaken me so. None have so taken apart the very soul of the tribes the way this fight has. For though only one man died, three Barbarians were lost to their tribes.

 

And still the months pass, and the rivalry between the clans grow. Neither the Wolfrock nor the Iceravens speak the names of Belun or Kessa, though each seems to think one is indebted to the other for their loss. Gren abandoned his tribe over the events, and spends most of his days running errands for me. He has proven most useful in getting my writings to the capital, and seems to enjoy the freedom such journeys lend.

 

And I have grown old in my years observing the Barbaric peoples. I suspect I will not survive to see what more comes of this. But secretly, quietly, I hope the Iceravens come out on top this time.

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

My unnamed mage from the last story has a few more things to say, apparently. (And then I put it in the wrong thread . . . *sigh*)

 

I find myself pondering, sometimes, WHY Kessa left without a word. I realize she was never the talkative sort, but sometimes, when I'm in a particular mood, I wonder if it was something I said or did to drive her away, and just how long she'd been planning on being in my employ. I know the amount I'd paid her wasn't enough to fully provide her passage, and I think sometimes that she must be indebted to some shady character in Elweir who takes advantage of Barbarian poverty.

 

When I'm in such moods, however, I begin thinking that there is very little I DIDN'T do that might have offended or driven her away. There was, of course, my clumsily-attempted seduction, but there were many other times where I could tell I'd done or said something wrong. She comes from a world I have no notion of, and reviewing the events of her short stay with me only makes that fact painfully obvious.

 

I often have those in my employ participate in gladiatorial events, paying their registration in exchange for a portion of the winnings, should they triumph. I offered to enter Kessa in such a contest once, and she stared at me. I thought a moment that she hadn't understood my words, and framed the question again, slowly and in several different languages. She walked away.

 

It took me almost a mile to catch up with her, and I asked her what I had said to offend her. She explained to me, haltingly, that she did not wish to use her skills to impress anyone, merely to protect. Were I to order her to do such a thing, she said, she would have to find a new employer.

 

I explained to her that it wasn't an order, it was a question, and she let out a sigh of relief. I had thought, at the time, that it was the conflict she feared. Later, seeing her perfectly calm in the midst of an outnumbering force, all of which attempted death blows which she shrugged off, I knew this to be untrue. I still don't know precisely what made her walk away from the prospect of such a contest.

 

It was indicative, though, of her general attitude towards fighting. I thought at one point how strange it was that someone so good at killing should shy away from it so. I remember the first time I tried to set her up with an outnumbering force of mercenaries under my employ, and her simple question of, "Is that a question, or an order?"

 

At the time, I didn't recognize her subtle sense of humor, and was taken aback by the question. I responded, stumbling over my words, that she could back them up, if they needed it, and she nodded her approval. Later, when I saw how skilled she was at taking down forces outnumbering herself, I understood her sense of fair play, and honor, and felt ashamed with myself for even asking her to violate it.

 

Another time, I inquired of her attitude towards my wife. Since her arrival, the two had stayed far clear of one another. Kessa seemed unconcerned with my wife's aloofness, and, in fact, didn't even register her presence. I asked Kessa if she didn't like the way my wife treated her, and she shrugged. I pointed out how much more cordial Millicent was to others in my employ, and asked again if Kessa was hurt by being ignored and snubbed. Kessa's reply was to ask if she should be, because she could work up some righteous indignation if I ordered it. Not in so many words, of course. As ever, it was her eyes that told the story of unasked questions and implied thoughts whirling about in that enigmatic mind of hers.

 

I never particularly blamed Millicent for her dislike of Kessa. She knew that females in my employ were prone to receiving my attentions, and Kessa proved an exception only in her refusal. But Millicent had no way of knowing that Kessa, the woman who spurned clothing at every opportunity, would prove a might prudish.

 

But later, after realizing this was a factor in how they might regard one another, I asked Kessa if that was why she wasn't offended by Millicent's rudeness. She denied that it had even crossed her mind, then expressed confusion as to why she should care at all what Millicent thought of her. Mostly, this was expressed by a wrinkling of her brow and my series of questions to tease the truth out of her.

 

"Because she's my wife," I explained to her.

 

She expressed further confusion, so, thinking perhaps her clan had a different word for the role, I tried it again in Valdorian. When she shook her head again, I explained the role of a wife, hoping to get the word out of her.

 

When I got to the part about the fidelity between a husband and wife, I saw a flicker of amusement in her expression, and hastily added that not ALL husbands slept only with their wives, and some wives expected such behavior, and even preferred it to the alternative of an overly amorous husband.

 

I could see my explanation was only confusing her further, and so I finally explained that Millicent's opinion mattered to me, because of our relationship. She finally nodded in understanding, and I left her to ponder her confusion over the subject.

 

I sometimes used to think that, perhaps her leaving was because she was offended at my attempt to bed her, but for such conversations. She didn't hesitate to approach me afterwards, and her demeanor toward me was no different. She didn't appear to fear that I would repeat my embarrassment if given the opportunity, and so I didn't take advantage of her trust. Except that her demeanor did change, somewhat. Her expression warmed to my presence. She still didn't smile, but her expression was less cold and more attentive. It was as if she'd expected such a thing from me all along, and was able to relax around me better once it was out of the way. Or something else entirely, but in any case, she seemed more fond of me after the attempt.

 

Yet, for all of her warmth toward me, she didn't smile, she didn't laugh, and she never spoke of her home, even when I asked. If anything, when she thought I wasn't looking, she appeared even sadder and more lost than ever.

 

And there lies the crux of the situation. Every new thing I learned about Kessa yielded more questions about her, but I never asked these questions. Had I asked, she might have told me, eventually. She answered direct questions, though without elaboration. But I thought I had all the time in the world to figure her out.

 

Sometimes I think that perhaps I should take a journey northward, to where the Iceravens wander, gather and hunt. Perhaps understanding the dynamic of her clan is the key to understanding her idiocyncracies. But there is never time to travel so far, and I have a wife and children to keep in mind before doing something so reckless.

 

I know that, without so many questions, I wouldn't think twice about the Barbarian I once hired, unique and skilled as she was. It's the intrigue and curiosity which drives these thoughts. That makes these musings no less frustrating, to know a woman is under my skin not because of desire, but a thirst for knowledge.

[ghost-angel]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

Kessa's background is interesting.. I like it. Original to be sure.

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

Indeed what I was going for. There's a lack of information on the Barbarians in Valdorian Age, so I've had fun filling in those gaps, at least where my character's tribe is concerned.

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

Another story which gives further background information.

 

Kell was born to the chief of the Iceraven clan, the first of his generation. This was a happy sign, to have a healthy boy born first. His birth was celebrated for a full week. When he was followed less than a year later by a full-blooded, healthy sister, this, too, was a good sign. But, it was nothing new. Healthy girls had been born of Iceravens for hundreds of generations. It was the healthy boy, the Hope of the Iceravens, who got all the attention.

 

Kessa, his sister, might have had an ordinary life growing up in the clan, if she'd been anyone else's sister. But she knew right away that there was something special about Kell. She treated him as better than her from the start. She never cried louder than he did as a baby, and she always stopped when he was being taken care of before her. As they grew older, she waited to eat until he had eaten. Once she was walking, she followed him around like a shadow. She never cried for him to wait, she just did her best to keep up.

 

The two looked similar enough, as children, that anyone from outside the tribe thought they were twins. This would have been an even better sign for the tribe, since twins only happened every thousand births. But they only looked it. As they grew older, differences appeared. Relatives might have mistaken one for the other if they were both solemn and quiet. But they were too energetic to do that.

 

As with all Iceraven children, they had to deal with the trials of growing up among those larger, smarter, faster and stronger than them. It was their close bond that let them laugh off their hurts as they patched each other's cuts, scrapes and bruises. They both knew the virtue of hardship, so neither one interfered with the other's early training.

 

With time, Kell grew into a strong and smart fighter and hunter. By the time he'd lived twelve summers, there wasn't a cousin, aunt or uncle who could beat him one-on-one. He had a good chance in a fight even when he was outnumbered. He spent the next years working on these skills, and teaching them to his younger sister. She was a fast learner and a ready sparring partner, but she knew early on that she was no competition for her brother. She never tried to beat him in a fight. She learned what she could of his fighting style, and tried to be half as quick on her feet as he was.

 

Before long came his trials of adulthood. Some were surprised that he passed on his first try. Most of his relatives, especially Kessa, just nodded and said that it was what they'd expected of the Hope of the Iceravens. By then, he knew about his high status within the clan. Once he passed the test and became an adult, he took advantage of the privileges his status gave him.

 

A few months after the celebrations of his becoming an adult tapered off, Kell learned of a party of Wolfrocks trespassing on Iceraven territory. With permission from his father, he took a hunting party out to chase the Wolfrocks away. Kessa asked him to take her along. It's common to take someone on a hunting party for carrying stuff or tracking, and this person usually learns something useful. Their father decided that it would be wise for her to go with Kell.

 

It took them three days to track down the Wolfrocks, who were exploring Iceraven territory to take as their own. But when Kell yelled at them, they dug in their heels and refused to go. Kell knew he and his hunting party could slaughter them where they stood. But he wanted to send a clear message to their clan, instead. So he hefted his axe onto his shoulder and said that, if the best of their group could beat him in single combat, they'd be allowed to stay. But, if that person lost, he said, the Wolfrocks had to leave.

 

The Wolfrocks agreed.

 

It was obvious from the start that Kell was the better fighter. He was better, faster, and his axe was chipping away at the edge of the Wolfrock's sword with every blow. Kell drove the Wolfrock back and back and back. He wasn't even sweating, while the other man panted and wheezed, frantic to protect his life.

 

Finally, Kell knocked the Wolfrock's sword out of his hands and knocked him to the ground. He asked the man's name. The Wolfrock gave him the name of Belun. Kell nodded and said that he'd heard that there was an arrogant, stupid Wolfrock by that name, who was determined to get himself killed. He said that he'd denied Belun his death, for that day. Then he turned to the rest of the Wolfrocks and told them to leave.

 

While Kell's back was turned, Belun climbed to his feet. He snatched his sword from the ground. Kessa cried out to warn her brother, but she was too late. By the time Kell turned around, Belun's sword was buried in Kell's back. Kell choked, and fell.

 

The Wolfrocks fled, leaving Belun to pull his sword free and follow. The Iceravens didn't give chase. One held Kessa back, to keep her from chasing down her brother's murderer. They said to her that Kell had done what he'd set out to do, so there was no shame in his death. She started to yell back about the dishonor Belun had shown. An aunt struck Kessa. She fell and said no more.

 

They made a litter, to bear Kell's body back to the tribe's camp. They promised Kessa that, once she passed the tests of adulthood, his axe would belong to her. Kessa said nothing to this. She took her place in carrying her brother's body.

 

Kessa kept up her silence all during his burial ceremony. She didn't weep like the other women. She stared straight ahead, with her jaw set in the same way her brother's usually was when he'd made up his mind. Anyone might have mistaken her for his twin then, or even Kell himself, if they didn't know he was dead.

 

Several aunts talked to her after the funeral. They said she was dwelling on Kell's death. They pointed out that death was a way of life for the Iceraven clan, and said she must look to the future, instead of being stuck in what might have been. Kessa nodded, and said that it was in her future was to pass the trials of adulthood.

 

And so she did.

 

Some say it was the spirit of her brother that led her to pass the tests at such an early age, and so easily. Her mother said that Kessa had always been better than everyone else, but no one noticed because she was in Kell's shadow. Her father, the chief, said it was because she wanted to bring honor and strength to the clan. It was because her reasons weren't selfish that made her so powerful, he said.

 

Whatever the case, she passed, and earned the right to carry her brother's axe. She seemed like her usual self after earning that right, and, until she slew Belun, everyone believed she'd gotten over what had happened.

 

Of course, to listen to the story told by anyone other than the Wolfrocks, Kessa didn't act dishonorably. Kessa wanted to protect another Iceraven. So most Iceravens don't think it's her fault. But it was Kessa who wanted to make up for what she did wrong. She didn't leave because we made her. She left of her own choice. So it doesn't matter what we believe. All that matters is that Kessa believes herself to be worthy of coming back.

 

We don't doubt that she will, someday, feel she has earned that right.

[ghost-angel]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

I like the twist...

 

The idea that her exile is self imposed based on the clans beliefs as she interprets them is very cool....

 

What'd be cool, but might ruin all the mystery, is a story in Kessa's voice leading up to her decision to leave.

[AliceTheOwl]

Re: [Valdorian Age]A Short Story

 

I'm not sure she's self-reflective enough to yield more than a paragraph or two. Kessa, herself, isn't much of a storyteller, and doesn't spend a lot of time angsting, reflecting or thinking about the past.

 

Hmm. I'll consider it, anyway. It could be an interesting challenge, squeezing blood out of a stone.