Mortality and Morality

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Tannabus McLeod
Posts: 2
UO Shard: Great Lakes
Character Age: 0

Mortality and Morality

Post by Tannabus McLeod » Mon Jun 18, 2012 2:47 pm

“Henpecked and spineless” I muttered to myself as I struck out on foot from the place my father deemed fitting to have left me. “Learn some compassion and humanity, INDEED!” I trudged on through the random terrain, not noticing much of the scenery, surroundings or landscape. Rage filled my every thought; he chose to preserve the human wench that gave birth to me over his own son. “What could this lowly, insignificant being ever possibly have that was of greater power or importance than that of an immortal being?”

The forest was dark, gray and gloomy the only light was that of the moon filtering through the tree tops. A strange sensation filled my body, a gnawing and churning feeling in the pit of my stomach, the muscles in my legs burned urging me to slow down, eventually it caused me to find a log to sit upon. Within moments I was shaking and cold. “By what powers did such afflictions come to me?” I hunkered down in the shelter of a fallen tree curled up against the cold, and tried to ignore the nagging and persistent discomfort in my body. Never before had I experienced such feelings.

Slowly the sun rose above the horizon with the dawn of a new day, the gnawing feeling was still there though not quite as intense as it had been when I stopped. I stood, dusted the debris from myself and began to walk again. No particular place in my mind to arrive at, I picked a direction and proceeded. Not long after the journey began I came upon a woman with her apron gathered up in one hand she wandered from bush to bush, plucked something from them and dropped it into her apron. I found cover behind a tree and watched for several moments as she meandered along the path, occasionally she popped a handful of whatever she’d gathered into her mouth, and then returned to placing them in her apron. It was in that moment I fully realized just what had been taken from me, as she ate; the gnawing in my stomach grew worse. The longer I watched the worse the pain became. I was truly mortal!

From the anonymity of the tree, I could see she was no match for me if I chose to claim her harvest. For what seemed several minutes I contemplated whether to frighten her off, capture her or kill her to obtain her harvest. On an almost instinctual level the mind returned with given my appearance, size and element of surprise frightening her seemed to be sufficient to achieve my end goal. My dark skin, reddish colored hair, demonic ears and size, springing forth from behind the tree worked, with a shriek she threw up her hands spilled the contents of her apron and ran off. The small berries were tart, making the muscles in my jaw tense, but I consumed as many as I could salvage easily and the gnawing in my stomach went away.

I sat for a few minutes and contemplated the frail nature of being a mortal, pondered on if all humans felt this way and if so how it is they survived as long as they had. Then began to think about how one goes about determining what can be consumed safely. I couldn’t follow humans around indefinitely to find a means to manage hunger. Eating had always been something I’d done purely for the sensual pleasure of its taste, texture, smell. It was quite intoxicating the variations from the silky, smooth feel on the tongue of fine chocolate to the smoky, salty and chewy feel of roast mutton or boar. Oh, and nothing compared to the combination of an enslaved human female, repulsed by your very being having to hand feed you, your favorite morsels. To have this sensual act reduced to its basic mechanical need of survival was another tally on a long list of things for which I someday would exact revenge.

In my minds’ eye there had been a voice or vision that compelled me day after day in what seemed a predetermined direction. Along the way, I learned the angry feeling of muscles over worked, the annoying and familiar feeling of hunger which nagged to be fed, and the infuriating sensation of being cold and wet. “For every raindrop I have been pelted with you my darling mother shall endure my wrath”

The days stretched into weeks, weeks into months as I walked around Britannia. I had spoken to no one for the first month, my only companion the rage that was constantly seething just below the surface. Each and every time I’d have cast a spell to remedy a situation I cursed my mother and father. It became painfully obvious I had learned little in my youth that was going to help there and then. I had to acquire a weapon, figure out how to use it and locate some form of shelter. This meant I had to speak to some other being. I had to decide upon a stationary living space or construct a shelter that could be ported around.

Peculiar how a life born to a witch and a demi human failed to have prepared me for a life lived outdoors. My days spent learning to cast spells, gather reagents, mix potions, eat embers were useless as a non-magical mortal. She drummed her three most sacred rules into my head several times each day for years “Tannabus, you must never harm another being, so long as it harms none do as you will and whatever you choose to do either for good or bane will come back to you three fold.” Had she ever tried to survive in the wilderness? She certainly had no clue what it took for the average mortal simply to stay alive.

One day I came upon a coastline that looked oddly familiar. I had been here before, I was certain of it. Images of me as a child following behind her gathering blood moss, sulfurous ash, and black pearls came to view in my mind. As I followed the coastline I came upon a few houses and then a cave. This was my new home. As I explored further the cavern lead eventually to the Lost Lands, as the weeks had passed I realized this cave was within the North Mine section of the mountains outside of Minoc. The wench who birthed me, lived last I knew, just off the Kendall River. Could it be, that all along this inner compass had been leading me back to that which I despised?
Within my cavernous prison, I honed my skills in self-reliance. Miners it turned out are often fairly easy prey, ill equipped for a fight over their possessions, and oddly enough it seemed few ever noticed they’d gone missing. I scavenged for weapons on corpses both human and non-human alike.

As the time passed I became quite adept at taking care of myself, and began to venture out and explored the areas around the cave. My mother lived outside Vesper when I was born in a mix of library, museum and home. Over the course of time I watched as that house was demolished, she’d left Vesper, but to where? I roamed around as time permitted searched for her or my father. To my surprise she turned out to be back in Minoc, and she’d moved up in the world. Living in a Castle near where she’d begun her adult life.

The next task was to try to locate my father; I wandered looking for signs, listening to folks talk, hidden in the shadows where few could see. People still spoke of him from time to time, so I knew he was still about somewhere. After a year or so I gave up on him, there seemed no physical trace of his existence. It seemed I would be better off to monitor my mother’s new home.

I often watched her leave the old castle and would walk around its stone halls, picking up objects and moving them. Reading books she’d laid about her office or bedroom. Patience would in the end prove to be my ally in securing my revenge. Always vigilant I never over stayed my welcome or left any indicator I’d been there.

For many years my life remained pretty much the same, I took care of my needs, watched my mother carry on with her life as if I’d never existed. My father never visited her, the husband she’d had was gone. Alone she worked on her craft, tended her gardens, hid from the world.
Even my sister Cali Anna was gone, fled the dismal land of Britannia.

One night as I sat secluded in the darkness of the cave, I smelled first an unfamiliar scent, then saw the fire red glow of eyes in the darkness, whatever it was there were two of them. Swiftly and silently the figures moved within the darkness. Over the course of several weeks they became a fairly regular occurrence, coming up from the lost lands, through the cave and out into Britannia. The few words I did hear exchanged were not a language I had ever heard before; there were a few words I had recognized, Justicar, Minoc, and Tanda being the ones which were stuck in my mind.

Many evenings my ears strained to overhear more bits of conversation. Could these beings hold the key to my ability to get my revenge, regain my immortality and my magical powers? I had to determine who it was sneaking around in the darkness and if I could use them to further my own goals.
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