Kenwlyn Black Riders (Rebel Faction)

[Shaddaling]

It is very rare not to have some chore or job to do in the house. Being the sprawling mass that it is and that the houses always need of extra soldiers we tend to be busy. It's finding someone intriguing and then bringing them home after you got in trouble and ended up hiding in your eldest sibling’s stores listening to him screech that a rarity. The after effect of their corpses probably going to feed something Illy been play with is a common is some what disturbing fact.

Anyhow it turns out his name was Xar and since I feed him once before the whole fiasco went down I decided like a pet I should play with him as well. Keep him from getting fat and I was very bored. After the whole fiasco I got him a bath, feed him again, and he gave me a massage in thanks.

Before he left I’m sure my sister Chavi stuffed him again. My sister would be pleased to be a simple cook if she could. But her gender and birth pushed her into the priestess hood to live mother’s life for her. I often forge the work schedule to give her as much time in the kitchens as I can. Really though, I look at Xar and see how my luck has been played.

I was a ‘slave’ if you will to pay of a blood debt that my cousin paid off and brought me home. I remember being pushed into the ground, hard muscle and steal fingers trying to pin me down while a knee tried to pry apart my legs. I remember nearly clawing out his eyes and kneeing him in a very tender place before breaking free and being disgusted I couldn’t control myself enough to make sure he would never attack me again. I should have snapped his ******** spine. I’m sure the twins did that for me. But it doesn’t stop my fear of being ******** had a family. Xar has a merc group that doesn’t feed him enough and expects him to be on the ball like someone well feed. Stupid isn’t it? Perhaps being with my company will force him to rethink his own situation.

…I’m dwelling to much…I’ll close this now.

Jysayne  

[Shaddaling]

Cousin show her true colors as we massed on the tower. At first I didn’t remember much being high on the thrill and painted from head to toe in blood. I remember breaking skin with my poison tipped nails, the nauseous feeling of being pushed though a tiny crack in a wall.

My reflection, face splattered with blood and pieces of gore, costume torn and showing where the paint ended and my actual skin began in smooth darkness. The splattering of hot water that broke me out of it and set me scrubbing digging out flesh from my nails and scrubbing till every bit of blood, gore, and paint was off and I was just me.

Surprisingly it was mother who came to me first, wispy frail and blind. Carrying that small little bit of Naolin in his palm. His mask pendent... she had kept that tiny frail piece of her son that had gone rouge. When she wordlessly pressed that into my hand it brought a lot of memories I wish were kept buried.

Illy came next, running eyes wild and decorated in ruins. I didn’t know what they meant nor did I care as I grabbed my hastily stuffed pack and weapons. Mother’s grin, all bright teeth, “Perhaps you cousin is right about this. Guess it’s left to will and luck to decide.” I still don’t know who she thinks was right.


Yet, here I am. Doctoring up some unknown drow with a dagger wound, a small clean cut thank what ever is listening. A wound I can handle with the substandard supplies I have here.

Took me long enough to get to that didn’t it? I sound pissed off, in agony, and just blame clueless so far. Kind of fits considering I am for the most part, well subtly distressed not agony. I’m not flailing about in pain or sadness at the moment.

Ryn=hot. No joking. He’s f’ing attractive in a sort of muscle bound way. A tad bit dense though when fishing for information comes to play. As if I am going to proclaim my cousin to be a shaman anymore then I would tell him my actually name or formal household