Sir Saltington
Lord of Altera
Warning: Lots of dark topics will crop up, especially in regards to mental health, so if you are uneasy about such things I would recommend you don't read.
(Note: This is written in an IC book but feel free to read anyway.)
The Tales of Jacob
I pen these words not for any history book but for myself, so I may never forget where I came from. These tales are of personal importance, but to anyone else who reads these words, I have a small hope you may gleam something of value out of my struggles and my victories. And especially my failures. - Jacob
I
Starting On The Wrong Foot
(Note: This is written in an IC book but feel free to read anyway.)
The Tales of Jacob
I pen these words not for any history book but for myself, so I may never forget where I came from. These tales are of personal importance, but to anyone else who reads these words, I have a small hope you may gleam something of value out of my struggles and my victories. And especially my failures. - Jacob
I
Starting On The Wrong Foot
It all started at a crossroads. The crossroads in fact. I walked into a near empty tavern that still awaited the morning crowd. The smell of alcohol and fresh bread wafted out from behind the bar as morning preparations were underway. Up the center stairs and off to the right sat a group of people in earnest discussion. I had not talked to anyone in a long while and I could feel the familiar yearning for social interaction. So when I sat down to join them and heard what they spoke, I did not care for the danger but only the company of others.
Looking back I should have been worried, or at the very least cautious. These people I had decided to converse with were heretics and their leader was also their god. I do not remember their names or their fates but I do remember another of much more importance. Halfway through our conversation a moor elf by the name of Syra showed up.
She had the white hair and purple eyes so typical of moor elves and always had an expensive dress to match her good looks. So much could be said about Syra and still not scratch the surface so I'll say this: she was beautiful, she was clever, and by the gods she was batshit insane. To give an inkling of her sanity, she was a devout Jishrim worshiper in a time where the gods were silent. And I've learned over the years just how mad silence can be.
Anyway, back to where I was. Syra joined the conversation but I can’t remember the words after all these years. All I remember was part way through when a woman tried to join the conversation, was promptly rejected, and attempted to take her anger out by chopping my head off. And to those that don't know or don't remember, the crossroads was neutral ground back when the gods were still walking the world. Even with the gods silent, many still kept that tradition alive. So her act of violence riled many of the patrons, including those at our table, and this woman was ran out of the tavern. Good riddance.
Later we were brought by Syra to a city. Its name I can’t recall right now. We entered a building along the docks in a more rundown part of town. There we met her contact by the name of Bishop. Just as crazy as her, but while she had a soul, this moor elf did not. Our encounter with him was him jumping from the rafters and trying to kill me. We fended for ourselves long enough for Syra to show up and explain the situation. Thinking back I doubt she had good intentions when she brought us here. Regardless of that fact, someone outside was eavesdropping on us. So we went to deal with him.
We exited the building and confronted the man. Some circled around him as we tried to explain our situation. As we were trying to convince this man that nothing was going on, a guard showed up. Further words were exchanged before someone on our side attacked and the fight was on. The guard held his own well, giving ground against the assault. The other man not so much, being tripped up and almost getting his skull caved in. Just as things were looking up our luck soured further. A blade dug into my side and almost threw me from my feet. Another had joined the fight.
Apparently while we were fighting, the captain of the guard had caught word and rushed to their aid. So when he got there he attacked the first assailant in sight, yours truly. I had turned around to find a brute of an earthspawn armored head to toe and a tower shield to boot. The two moor elves had caught sight of him sooner and fled, leaving me to fend for myself along with the heretics. Then to make matters worse, the heretics disengaged and before I knew it I was surrounded.
I clutched my side and stepped back a little. They wanted to capture me and then probably execute me. As the captain stepped forward ready to take me dead or alive I stumbled back over the edge of docks into the sea. Panic flooded my body as I dipped under the water and salt soaked into my wound. That day was when I understood just how awful the ocean is. In my delusional state I had somehow made my way to another side of the docks where I was promptly pulled out by the heretics and brought away. Their leader cleaned my wound and stitched it up. I was lucky that the blade hadn't gone so deep. Probably due to the alignment of the blade being off with the cut or something of that matter.
Over the next few days I slowly tapered off my interactions with the heretics and ended up spending more time with Syra. For some reason she piqued my interest and so I decided to become friends with her. One day she asked me and the woman who had tried to kill me in the tavern all those weeks ago to escort her to Port Silver. I brought her aside and tried to tell her it was a terrible idea but all she said was "trust me." So with no better option on the table I agreed to go.
Along the way Bishop joined us on our trip. When we arrived at Port Silver, he started acting strange and Syra just watched with a cold look on her face. Together they baited the other woman to flare her temper. When she got violent, Syra held a blade to the back of her neck. When she resisted, she was killed right in front of me. And as the body slumped to the ground all I could think was that's all it took?
A calm unease came over me. Deeper still I felt a satisfaction now that someone who was such a nuisance was now gone. Dully I stared at the dead woman for a bit before Syra asked me to help her with the body. As we carried her off I joked in an attempt to ignore what just happened, and what I was doing. What they did with the body I never asked and still don't care to know. But right before I left I said just a few words that would forever change my fate. I looked at Syra and said,
"I'm forever in your debt."
Looking back I should've known. How well it was set up. How her smile betrayed her satisfaction. How I said something I shouldn’t have; how I paid too high a price. Yet even now, even with all I've done and all I've seen, all the trouble I've been put through and all the pain I've had to live with because of her…I don't regret it. Yes, even against my better judgment and against all rhyme or reason, I don't regret it. And never will.
We parted ways after that and I spent the rest of the day in a mix of emotions, foremost being a nervous anticipation towards the future. I knew that things were going to change. Yes, I knew that so much was going to change. But I didn't know what that meant. I had to learn the hard way.
II
A Harsh Reality
It was a so-called peaceful day at the crossroads. I was there spending my time chatting with Syra, who I had come to consider a close friend. Although I was still in her debt it was a matter rarely brought up. She never asked of me anything strenuous, whether that be physical, mental, emotional, or moral. Although she might have put a strain on my coin purse with all the drinking she did. Yet I was content with the situation I had landed myself in. The two of us sat at a table by the bar and chatted about nothing in particular, enjoying the day. Then all of a sudden the inquisition showed up.A Harsh Reality
Of course no one ever expects the inquisition, but even still I should have at least considered they would show. After all, we had dealt with heretics. Though for some reason they had only come for Syra. They didn't even know who I was. When they threw her in shackles and were about to drag her away I stepped in to intervene. I explained to them that Syra was far from a heretic; that I knew of what they spoke and could better direct them to the true heretics. They agreed to let me come with them and on that journey I attempted to convince them that Syra was innocent of the crime.
After some time we arrived at a small fortress by the ocean. Thick stone walls surrounded a large courtyard for training, with only a couple wooden buildings and a small keep. This was where the inquisition headquarters was stationed. They escorted us to a holding cell built into one of the towers on the wall. They undid Syra’s shackles and put her in the cell, shutting the door behind her. She was to stay for a day or two but I could tell she wasn't their target. After all, what could be more noble to an inquisitor than the conversion of a heretic into a devout follower of the pantheon? And with real and verifiable heretics to hunt, such a small matter as this would be overlooked.
Yet I was young and ignorant of just how easily things can get tangled. How confusion is always one step away, and with that, danger. After being escorted outside the keep I circled around the walls to where the window of Syra's cell was located. She told me that Bishop was in trouble in Port Silver and that I needed to locate him before the inquisition found him. Of course they only wanted to ask some questions but I knew from experience how quick he was to misunderstand. If I didn't get there first, blood would be shed. Still, a small part of me worried for Syra so I left her a knife in case things turned sour and I ran to catch the fastest ship on its way out.
I arrived at the great ruins of Port Silver and promptly had no idea where to look. At a loss I wandered down what was left of the main road in an attempt to locate Bishop. I dared not call out; if the inquisition was lurking they would come running. Not that walking down the main road in broad daylight was any less conspicuous. The wide road kept going up and up the hillside but still I saw no evidence of his passing. Just as I was about to give up I reached the top of the hill and found an abandoned cathedral. The windows were long since shattered and a strong iron portcullis barred the entrance. Beyond that was Bishop.
The inquisitor sent out had found him and both were locked in combat. Metal rang on metal as swords clashed. With haste I rushed up to the gates and banged on them. I yelled for them to stop. Both of them disengaged and to my surprise they stopped, turning their heads to look at me but still keeping tabs on each other. I began to tell both of them what had happened and how things had changed. After explaining the situation the inquisitor seemed skeptical but willing to work with me. He looked toward Bishop and asked for him to surrender so they could ask some questions and figure out what was going on. Which was only fair considering he had no idea who I was. Instead Bishop took one look, turned, and started to run away.
I was angry at his selfishness, at how shortsighted he was. How utterly incapable this man was at understanding social interactions. I told him to head for one of the tall broken windows and went to meet him there. I watched as he circled through the pillars of the cathedral before sprinting around to the side. We met at the same time as he jumped and launched himself up toward the ledge. I grabbed his hand and planted my feet, helping him over just before a sword clashed the stone behind him and sparks flew everywhere. Then he kept running and I had no choice but to follow. I had a job to do, even if I despised how things were turning out.
As we ran the inquistor had found his way out and sprinted to catch up to us. Just as he started to gain ground I spilled a bag of ball bearings I had picked up from the market a day before. I looked back to see them scatter across the ground and he was slowing down to avoid slipping. Then before my very eyes he grabbed his sword and with both hands launched it in my direction. My eyes went wide as it came hurtling toward me but it landed short of me. Thankfully the distance between us was far too long for him to hit me. Still, all I could think was that he wasn’t going to let us get away. I looked forward just as Bishop strayed from the main road and kept running straight. The only way that detour led to was off a cliff. I yelled out, "No stop!" I tried to pick up speed but I was too far behind. All I saw was him trying to stop himself but it was too late. He disappeared over the edge.
I ran as hard as I could, desperately hoping he somehow survived. I knew the chance was slim; I had seen that cliff before and no one could survive a fall such as that. Not without divine intervention. As I reached the edge I saw that he had caught himself at the last second and was barely holding onto the ledge. With haste I reached down and gave him a hand. He grabbed it and together we got him back onto solid ground. Then just as he was starting to get his feet beneath him I heard the clank of a man in armor behind me. We ran out of time.
"Duck!" I yelled as I shoved him to the ground with my right hand and spun around, drawing my Saber in one fluid motion (for those who might think this strange, I am left hand dominant). Luck saved my life yet again as my blade collided with his. His blade sailed over my head as I hit it from below and I readied my blade but made no more moves. Both me and Bishop were backed into a corner and I couldn't rely on him to help me. Our opponent was more skilled, and had armor to protect himself. There wasn’t much of a chance to win. So instead of fighting I did what I was best at. I talked to him.
I explained to both of them how it was a misunderstanding on both parts. The inquisitor had no knowledge that things had changed and Bishop didn't know the inquisition just wanted to ask a couple questions. He knew what the inquisition did to heretics and didn’t want to suffer the same fate. Fear drove his actions and so it was only natural a man would try to save his own life. “Since no one was hurt, no harm no foul right?” I said and glanced at Bishop but he said nothing. Taking his silence as agreement or acceptance, I continued. I made an agreement that if we surrendered no harm would come to us and we would be escorted to the keep for further investigation. I lowered my blade to the ground and looked over at Bishop. Just then he turned around and jumped off the cliff.
There was no way he just did that. I couldn't believe it. The inquisitor was just as shocked as I was because he didn't stop me when I went over to the edge and looked down. At the very bottom was his lifeless corpse. His left arm was at an awkward angle and there was a red splotch where his head used to be. I just stared at it and then it hit me. A pure unbridled rage. How could he have done this? How could he be so fucking stupid? All he had to do was swallow his pride for once. That was all! Instead he killed himself because the thought of living without his pride was too much. Or maybe he was just too stupid to understand they didn't want him. That he was going to live. Now he was dead at the bottom of a cliff because he refused the reality of the situation. I hurled obscenities down to the body below before looking toward the inquisitor. He just stared at me.
We recovered the body and brought it back with us. During the trip I was shackled but I didn’t give a damn at this point. Along the way my anger had died down and now I felt wrung out. When we finally arrived back at the inquisition’s fortress they undid my shackles and put me in the cell Syra was in. They also left Bishop's body in the cell too. When Syra saw she didn’t move a muscle; she didn’t say a word. Seeing this I looked at the head inquistor that was at the cell door and told her to stand back.
"Why?" She asked.
"Because she has a knife." I said just as Syra drew it and lunged for me, a feral yell escaping her lips.
I held up my hands in defense and earned a cut along my hand for that choice, but I was able to bat the knife from her hand. As the knife went flying away she tackled me to the ground and both of her hands clutched my throat. I attempted to break her grip and get free but her fury lent her strength I’d never expect. In a panic I lashed out and hit her in the throat. It connected with her neck and her eyes widened in surprise. She instantly recoiled back, clutching her own throat.
Between being half-conscious and in a weak position I thankfully didn't really hurt her. Still, I was too busy wheezing on the floor to worry about that. Looking over I saw the cell door was shut and the inquisitor watched from behind the cell bars. She just stared at us. Syra had slunk away back to the bed where Bishop's body laid, absorbed with trying to tend to his appearance in any way she could. After a time I recovered and stood up, walking over to where the knife laid. I reached down and picked it up. Then I walked over to the cell door and tried to negotiate with the inquisitor. In the end I just ended up handing it off to her. My throat just plain hurt and the cut on my hand burned. I looked over to Syra. She was still by Bishop's side, unwilling to accept he was dead. "I'm sorry," was all I could say. I don’t remember how or even if she responded. Did she glare at me with eyes full of hatred? Was her stare vacant of any feeling? Was she too lost in her own grief to even look toward me? I don’t know.
To my surprise I wasn't angry at her actions towards me. It was more than understandable to me. After all, I said I would help him. Never did I expect it to end like this. Now he was dead and I was locked in a cell with her. Even though it wasn’t my fault, even though I hated the bastard, and even though it was his actions that led to this. I just didn't know what to do. It was obvious that Syra couldn’t live without him. So instead I went over to a chair in the corner of the cell and began to wash out the cut on my hand. Then I wrapped it up and looked over to Syra. Before my eyes she pulled out a vial and chugged down the contents as fast as she could.
My heart leaped to my throat. Was she going to follow his fate? Was I to lose a friend as well? I rushed over to the vial and grabbed it from her. Syra did nothing to stop me. To my relief I was able to recognize what was in the vial. She drugged herself in an attempt to escape reality. I couldn't blame her. So instead I left the vial on the bed and made my way back to the chair. I sat down and watched her to make sure nothing else happened. I fought off my exhaustion as she continued to grieve until eventually she fell into a stupor. Then knowing she wasn’t going to end up acting crazy again I gave in and passed out. Yet even in my sleep I couldn’t shake the events away. My dreams tormented me with images of her at the bottom of that cliff. It was a restless night.
In the morning we were freed from the cell. No charges were made against either of us. Syra and I went our separate ways. I’ll save for what happened after that for another day. I can only take so much of this.
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