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Private-Prinny · 06-27-2010, 08:34 PM

Do you think my face looks good? I made it myself.
(Now so massive, it needs two posts!!!)

Quote:

Originally Posted by Seera

Seera d’Cannith, defrauded heir

The dream is ever the same. Jumping from one roof to another, the fresh wind of Sharn winter in the face and her mother’s lullaby still in mind: “Once was Merrith d’Cannith, strong in mind and strong in spirit; then his son and heir Beris, our sweet home was his; Assia Bearan came the next, then Merrith, then Wilex; Argonnensis was grandfather, Aldous Bearan is your father… then there’s Seera, our sweet heart, we will never be apart.”
That evening Seera were really pissed off: “Mom, you have to cut it!” moaned “I’m sixteen now, I don’t need no silly lullaby animore!”
Seera saw the pain on her face: Maelian d’Cannith wasn’t good in lying, nor in pretendine. Suddenly, Seera tried to add something, but her mother stopped her: “You’re right, my dear.” She woke up from her bed and added “You grew up so sudden and…” Maelian stopped, then stepped out, hiding a tear from her daughter.
Seera was upset, but her excitation was too great to be disturbed by that strange feeling – remorse? – that heavied her chest. She waited all day, boiling in anticipation to try her father’s new tricks.
He found her some night ago trying to climb on house roof. Instead of the stern reproof she was waiting, her father lectured her on the ultimate folly of climbing and swinging on the wall of a palace floating half a mile from the ground. “Sharn is a beautiful city, my dear, but it’s floating on your doom if you don’t prepare properly.”
She looked at him, puzzled. Aldous shook his head: “I’ll give you something to avoid my beloved daughter and only heir to become a questionable art form on city lower levels.”
And he did. She had now a pair of gloves, a pair of boots and a amulet. “To climb better, to keep you there and to save you in event of fall” were the words of her father.
The night was cloudy and thin rain started to fall, anticipating a stormy night. But she was too excited to give up her first excursion with her new toys.
…
“This stuff is amazing” roared her, in delight, defying the hard rain and the rollino thunder. Steady on a flying buttress despite the rain, she dominated the area around Cannith palace. Amazing.
In the platform several feet down, a group of figures was approaching her house. Two large ‘forged and a red robed man. “Uncle Merrix!” shouted her, but the heavy rain covered her words. “Uncle Merr…” He will never listen to her. “He’s going home. I know a shortcut.”
She did, indeed, and rushing from spires and towers, swinging with no fail thank to her magical gear. She arrived in front of her house just when her uncle, Merrix d’Cannith, was entering. She rushed even more, took a great jump and landed on her home’s roof.
“He will meet mom and dad at the diner’s room” guessed, and cautously sneaked in that direction. “I could make a surprise entrance. Maybe from the window”.
And she came to the main window, to make her plan happen. She was about to burst in – no worry for the heavy macical defences: they were set to not harm any family member – but… There was something wrong. Her father, His Carlmness, was… “shouting?”
Yes, shouting at uncle Merrix: “You can’t do that, ‘Forged are people, not constructs! I will never, ever, ever back you in this. And, for the gods’ sake and for the sake of our ancestors, I shall oppose you with any mean.” His wife, on his side, nodded, and so did, with proud, Adamant, their loyal warforged bodyguard
Uncle Merrix grinned at him: “So, this is your final word, Aldous?” His father flaming eyes were clear enough “So be it.” He was about to live the room, but half out, he turned at Aldous and said: “There’s just a minor inconvenience. I’m not gonna do it… it is already done.”
Nonchalant, he lifted a strange dragonshard, carved by runes of power, and pointed it towards Adamant. His eyes suddenly became dark and, in a moment, he turned towards an astonished Aldous.
Adamant was a large, adamantine warforged, crafted with great skill to be strong, utterly strong, and perfected with layers of magic. When his left punch hitted Aldous Bearan d’Cannith, he flyed away like a puppet. This was so wrong, so umpredictable, so… horrific.
Seera standed still, this couldn’t be possibile, this… Her mother, instead, was a quick and skilled wizard. With hate in her eyes, she desperately starter to pronounce power words, rushing to… Adamant was quick. Too damn quick. It was his pride: “Big and quick, lil’ Seera. To protect you all, and you at most, my beloved lil master.” Every time he said so, he lifted her up, with hands so soft that it seemed impossibile they were adamantine.
He was doing the same with her mother, now. It seemed the same, at least, and Seera for a moment, hoped he was about to embrice her, to save her from Merrix betrayal. Then her spine broke, with a sound snap, and her motionless body fell on ground.
“Nooo” she shouted, and a lightning flashed. Merrix saw her, smiled her and said: “Dispatch her, Adamant.”
She saw the warforged monster stepped towards her, through a veil of tears. She shook her head. But the vision didn’t go away. Her father still dead, her mother still dead. She looked at his uncle, void on her eyes. Then she lean on her back and fall.
“Umpfh… she did it by herself.” That side of Cannith palace was the most eyecatching: a proud construction standing a pitfall.
…
Seera wasn’t planning, she just throw herself down, a sudden act of pure despair. But her father was, in effect, smarter than her. Half away the falling, her medallion started to glow. And her fall speed decreased: she was, now, a slow plume floating and gently descending.
The lower layers of Sharn were a dump. A dump of material, a dump of people. When she touched the ground,, she was surrounded by strange humanoids. Goblins, hobgoblins, a towering minotaur, a couple of gargoyles.
They were looking at each other, a pack of wolves decidine who’s gonna give the first bite. Then another lightning, and her dragonmark, the mark of making carved oh her right cheek, glowed in response.
Silence.
Then, a green goblin stepped towards and, cerimoniously, asked: “Do the high Maker Princess need this servant’s help?” Then, aiding her to stand, he whispered: “Come with me, fast.”
She followed him, empty in spirit, not opposing any resistence. She never know what really happened, what she told him, what he did.
The only sure thing was that, at the sunrise she was fighting the sleep on a caravan, her boots, gloves and medallion lost. She was going on.
Fairhaven.

Spoiler

Fairhaven, port of freedom and, in effect, a fair haven for most people, and for Seera too. Her dragonmark announced her far in advance of her arrival. Her natural destination was Aundair’s outpost of house Cannith. A suspicious baron Jorlanna d’Cannith received her. After less than a hour after, having heard her story, she welcomed her, with commotion, she gave her a place in the house and assigned her to a master crafter, for her proper training.
Since that day, however, baron Jorlanna ordered her to wear a mask: her dragonmark, unusually placed, would be too much revealing. And Lord Merrix, now baron of House Cannith himself, wuold find her out.
To anyone, she was now Beria, unfortunate, disfigured daughter of a l lost cyran side of the family.

Spoiler

As time went by, Seera became a good artificer. Never leaving the quarterhouse, never letting anyone come too close, never doing anytihng else than crafting – yes, a harsh life, but with good outcome in terms of work.
Then, her 18th birthday.
She intended to keep it secret, to let the day pass by, as any other day. But…
She managed to keep just one memory from her former life. Her ring, the family ring, her one and only heirloom. Her father said her to treasure it, because “he will disclose you the secrets our family trades from generations”. With all lost and uncle Merrix owning all, it seemed now a empty promise.
But that day, that only day, her ring glowed and shed heat. She was alone on her lab, so she didn’t retain the yell and threw away the ring.
The inside was faintly glowing, showing some carefully carved words: “Prove your descendance, have the heirloom”.
She stood still. Then, understanding flow on her like a river destroying a dig. Her mind immediately came back at her mother’s lullaby, her eyes shed bittersweet tears and her mouth started to move by itself: “Once was Merrith d’Cannith, strong in mind and strong in spirit; then his son and heir Beris, our sweet home was his; Assia Bearan came the next, then Merrith, then Wilex; Argonnensis was grandfather, Aldous Bearan is your father… then there’s Seera, our sweet heart, we will never be apart.”.
Nothing happened.
Still in deep commotion, she grinned: “This is so… unpoethic.”
And then tried again: “Merrith, Beris, Assia Bearan, Merrith, Wilex, Argonnensis, Aldous Bearan.”
Suddenly, the stone on the ring – a metalline-like diagram she always thought to simbolize a schema – grew in size, becoming a huge, brilliant schema. She came to it with awe. She started to examine it, still crying.
“It is a… a schema. A project… instructions to craft… masks?”

Spoiler

[i]A year later, more or less, her researches stopped. The schema was incomplete. She went straight to Jorlanna. This research was too promising to stop in a cul-de-sac and the schema suggested how to know more. It was a hard way, through. It leaded to Xen’drik.

Spoiler

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