Kesena sits in silence

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Kesena sits in silence

Postby vezasee » Sun Sep 14, 2003 12:38 pm

This is written as Kesena, not so good but meh.

I sit alone in Mir this night, and I am cold and afraid. My precious objectivity is a front, my tolerance sorely pressed. I feel nothing...nothing at all. So many nights, so many people, trust gained, advice given and nothing is heard or taken to heart. Frustration boils up form the very core of me. Nothing can change, change is an illusion. I see visions of blood and fire. All my hopes for the future put to the sword. Brother killing brother with no end.
I believed once...feels like so long ago, but I believed. I had faith in the fact that we could all work together twards a brighter day. maintaining pride while destroying slavery. Attaining dignity...bah. I see my people quarreling in the streets like children with our only allies. I have felt the spittle of another race trickling down my cheek in my home. I have been violated by a kinsman. I see our proud people grovelling for scraps from the surfacers. I have felt the blood spatter on my face and revelled in the taste... to hell with my tolerance, to hell with my pacifism.
I have spoken, begged, cajolled, preached to any that would listen. I believed once that we all had a chance, all of us outcasts to be unified as a "people" to become a community. I believed once in peace. Now I fear I believe in nothing. Nothing gets through to them, no one can hear over the roar of thier own self importance, over the whispers of thousands of ancestor's rage.
I sat in the bright sunlight, blind, with perfect trust. I felt the warmth against my skin, I smelled the wild flowers in the air, heard the wind whisper through tall grass. and felt
I sit in darkness now. I feel cold rain chilling me to the bone, I smell decay in the air, the wind screams in my ears. I am empty and afraid. I am chained to this dark existance.

again written on the spur of the moment, maybe not so good, but enjoy, i hope.
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Postby Ambar » Sun Sep 14, 2003 2:18 pm

I REALLY like this, great imagery (imho) ... Add to it hun, make it a bigger story, and include names so they can add to your story

again nice job :)
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Joined: Fri May 25, 2001 5:01 am
Location: Hull, Quebec, Canada

Postby Zagaz » Sun Sep 14, 2003 7:25 pm

That was very well written. I agree it could be expanded upon, maybe tying in with your back story about a mysterious benefactor who finally shows themself at this time of need and doubt.

Just an idea...Keep it up!
Those who desire to give up Freedom in order to gain Security, will not have, nor do they deserve, either one.
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Postby Rihesesassixiz » Mon Sep 15, 2003 2:41 am

All I can say for Kesena is...

Hooded robe and sunglasses.

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Postby Shar » Mon Sep 15, 2003 2:57 am

Nicely written. If this is spur of the moment, I know I probably speak for others when I say: You must be amazing when you PLAN on writing. Hi5.

Look forward to reading more.
Shar - Forger Administrator, TorilMUD

Brandobaris : (51) [ would a forgotten realms zombie be interested in brains? ]

Shevarash tells you 'Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down..... groan'
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Postby KurikTheShaman » Fri Jul 02, 2004 9:03 am

Perhaps there IS hope for the drow....maybe. Only time will tell....


"You are MEAN, I don't like mean people....better watch it, or I'll scare you with mah chicken bone."
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Location: MI


Postby Mirsas » Wed Jul 21, 2004 6:12 pm

(OOC: was gonna post a story, but read this one and saw that it was in the same vein. Posted here so that hopefully you would read it Kes, and we could get somethin goin' :). Also, apologies if this subpar. I typed up a good 'un last night but didn't save it to a word program and bbs screwed up... lost it. So this is my 'trying to remember how that one went the next morning' version. Hope you like :D)

It was raining....
To most, that didn't mean much, but the Drow sat there staring up at the sky. The rain ran down his face, ran down his hair. It washed the fresh blood off of his skin. The trees clung to the ground like old men as the wind battered them about. The Drow stared up at the rain, imagining where the moon might be. He held his left arm limply, and dragged himself to sit upright against a big oak.
"Is this what you would have of me?" He whispered, as if expecting an answer from somewhere.
Tearing a piece of his tunic, he wrapped it about his arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Soon the cloth was a red and the stained grass around him. His lip curled upward into a feral snarl, teeth glinting in the night.
"IS THIS WHAT YOU WOULD HAVE OF ME?!" His voice echoed back at him, seeming to catch him off-guard. He sagged back against the tree and began speaking aloud to himself. He looked quite insane, but then... he was lying half-naked in the forest during a thunderstorm, bleeding freely.
"Are you listening, my Lady? Do you hear me anymore?"
A pause.
"Did you ever hear me.."
He rolled himself over to lay, facing up at the pouring rain. As if taking notice, it began beating down harder.
"The desert city seemed a decent one, my Lady. I walked the streets with caution. Most were of the usual thinking, didn't want anything to do with me. I did meet a beautiful elven enchantress though. She helped me find my way around for a bit. I guess the night started well..."
The rain bounced off of him now, stinging his eyes.
"Ambushed by thugs, my Lady. I can't remember a time when I would have let a few thugs surprise me... and humans, no less." He spat. "That's where you've gotten me tonight, my Lady... Bleeding and bruised. They left me bloodied somewhere in the desert to... oh, what was it.. oh yes, 'crawl back to whatever hellhole I was spit out of.' Quite a vocabulary for a thug." He snorted a laugh, which quickly became a gurgling cough.
He sat up quickly, wincing in frustration and pain.
"What would you have of me? Just some kind of sign... anything..." He ran a hand through his white hair, as if the answers to all his questions lay somewhere on his scalp.
The rain came down harder. The wind gave a ferocious howl, like some great beast and whipped through Mir Forest with abandon. The Drow sat there waiting in the night, rubbing the moon-shaped tattoo tenderly on his hand.
The trees swayed, like old men clinging to something, holding on desperately to their roots.
Maybe that was sign enough...
Mirsas, Commander of all things Underhanded

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