[Open] Stories for the Lost

[Leiven Loramrai]

Leiven was no stranger to orphans. His village, in the deep mountains of the Reaches, was regularly raided by bandits. Often leaving children without fathers, mothers, or siblings despite the defender's best efforts. When he reached the city of Fellsgard, he found himself drawn to the poorer eastern district. One evening's wandering, he found his way into an orphanage on the same day as a rash of new arrivals.

One of them, a small girl in torn rags, with a pale face covered in dirt. Tears flowed down her face as she screamed in defiance at the woman trying to comfort her. "They killed him! He didn't do nothin', and now he's gone!" she shouted between deep sobs. Her words fell on Leiven and tore at his heart. He wanted to comfort her, but he was a stranger here.

When she stumbled and fell in another burst of strangled cries, his excuses evaporated, and the demands of a guardian welled in him. There was a child here, she was hurting, and he had to do everything in his power to protect her, to make her feel safe. Lieven sat beside her and engulfed her in his powerful arms. She recoiled with a startled cry, but he refused to relent. It was the sort of hug his father had given him when he was a boy. The same sort he'd given to his weeping mother when her husband died. It was something he couldn't stop in himself. He spoke to her softly, calmly, lending her his implacable strength. "I do not know what terrible things happened to you. I don't need to know them. What I do know is that I have seen the look in your eyes before. It is not a safe thing, this anger you carry."

She looked up at him, blinking slowly before burying her head into his shoulder. Tears racked her body as she sobbed into his armored shoulder. Liven ran his hands along her hair and back in long gentle strokes. Tears were not rare in his life. When her sobs slowed, he loosened his arms and pulled her back to look at her. Wiping a tear from her cheek, he said, "You've raged enough. Let me tell you a story my people hold dear. About a great mountain. About the love it has for all of us." With a smooth motion, he pulled his heavy fur cloak from his back.

With a practiced flick, he spread the thick fur on the ground before him and motioned for the young girl to sit. His armor creaked in protest as he rolled his shoulders in preparation. He needed full use of his arms and hands for the motions of this tale.

With a grin to several curious onlookers, he swept his arms out and projected his booming voice in a tone of conspiracy, "Come, gather round, and hear the tale of Love, Betrayal, Sorrow, and Renewal from a man who's lived it since his first breath." Stories were always better with an audience, and, for a time, it would distract from the pain and sadness so many here clearly suffered.

[Katarya Frost]

Kat opened the door, leaving the shack that the sizeable Kite family called home. " ... No use in complaining, Mr. Kite. If you don't want another mouth to feed, I suggest you change your habits in the bedroom. Good day!" Kat shut the door with a sigh of exasperation. Not only was she pulled every which way as a healer, but now people were turning to her who were in 'the family way', and she was certainly no midwife (nor had any inclination to be one). "Men are idiots." She mumbled to herself, as Nyx flapped down from the roof of the shack and onto her shoulder.

The raven was her ever-present companion, but never entered a home of one of her patients, and also kept out of the shop. Her familiar was happy to explore the city while Kat worked, and then snuggle down on a pillow beside her at night. Repeated attempts to try and translate the bird's squawks and chattering was making progress, but it was very, very slow going.

As Kat strode back towards her shop (no more out-calls today, thank Ny'tha), she heard a shout; not uncommon in the slums, which could be a rather ... rough and ready, kind of place. But this was from a child, and the mixture of pain and anger in it, caught her attention fast. Even Nyx seemed interested, and took off from her shoulder, swooping off round a corner, with Kat listing her skirt a little so she could jog forward to find out. She might not particularly like children, but she would be damned if she would let any get hurt!

As she turned the corner, she slowed to a walk, taking in the scene before her.

A well-muscled Dwarf was holding a weeping girl in his arms, beginning to tell a tale in a loud voice. The onlookers all had faces that were either concerned, amused, or completely confused.

The witch stepped forward, holding her bag with both hands, in front of her. She stood alongside the others (none of them gave her the same looks they used to; she was a common sight down these parts, nowadays), and decided to listen too. She had no idea what had happened, but she sensed something ... intriguing about the whole situation. Nyx too had taken perch close by, her black eyes fixed on the Dwarf and child, her head cocked as if listening herself.

[Val Bellamy]

"-What do you mean I don't have clearance?!" rumbled her voice down the many bleak corridors of Our Blessings of Faryv, the orphanage in the poor district of town Val had one called home. It didn't seem quite so warm and inviting now, shouting down Madam Connor with a handful of papers flapping about.

"I'm sorry, Miss Bellamy, but protocol is protocol," replied the stoic voice of the woman who was entirely accustomed to children and their tantrums. "Please return with the proper paperwork, the Letter of Condonation, a stamp of requisite approval, and five-to-thirty-two weeks for processing, and we will happily sort out your request. In the meantime, if you'll remember, I have many obligations to see to, and far more lives to help than your own!" If Madam Connor's tone and words hadn't rang with finality, then the heavy door slamming in Val's face certainly communicated the end of that particular conversation.

"But- You said-!" she argued to no avail anyway, the office door unmoved. With a bit of fuming, and a minimal of stomping, Val finally accepted that she really wasn't going to get a second-meeting and folded her papers back into her bra.

She was almost to the exit when the wailing of a child caught her attention, and, taking only a moment to recompose herself into something a bit more inspiring than a peeved lady shouting to get her way and now seeking completely altruistic acts of consoling small orphans that didn't at all hinge on exploiting their situation to make herself look better by comparison and thereby possibly guilting the Madam into a re-consideration, Val put on her happy face and prepped a story for the woeful little cretin.

... And then she heard a different voice instead, someone else evidently pulling her whole damned plan right out from under her feet. Only, he actually sounded pretty invested, and he... well, Val would never admit that his words sounded particularly relevant to her current situation or anything, but he knew how to introduce a story, and one from a distant land that she could conveniently learn and tuck away for later? All right, Val was interested.

Sidling along the nearest wall, she chose to keep an aloof distance, arms folded and all as she took stock of the setting thus far. Another soul was already present in addition to the child, a silhouette whose curves she was quite certain she had already admired once before, but the bard could keep a discerning expression and let that knowledge pass unrecognized. So many of Val's acquaintances, it was better if she pretended they didn't know each other, and she opted not to greet the woman.

That just left the dwarf, if his statue was any indication at least, as she inquired instead: "Hi, yes, long-time listener, first-time questioner. Just to be perfectly clear... you've lived this Tale of Love, Betrayal, Sorrow, and Renewal since your first breath, yes? Soooooo... you were re-born on a mountaintop and had someone who loved you also betray you, and other complexities you could fully comprehend, all as a part of your birth?" All right. Maybe she was still feeling a little bit like a turd, and just a teensy bit taking it out on someone who didn't deserve it at all.

[Leiven Loramrai]

There were several other young children around, though they seemed to hover around the edges of comfort, each wary for their own reasons. He motioned to them to come closer, but it seemed they'd wait until the story was begun rather than take a risk. He did spot a raven, no stranger to stories those birds were. He offered the creature a wink and returned to his calls, "Come hear the tale, and have your hearts warmed and eyes wet," he said, in a more restrained shout. There were children after all.

Then there was a call from a woman who clearly was looking to start something. Leiven raised a brow at her and broadened his grin. "Aye lass, born to it, just as you were born to the crash of an onion cart an' a flower shop," he said, giving her his fullest welcoming motion. "Come now, the seats in the front are for the children." He let his vision move on, continuing to motion with his hands for a reluctant crowd to gather close.

[Katarya Frost]

Katarya noticed Val approach, and true to form the young woman chattered on with the energy of three hyper people! She couldn't help but smile.

The Dwarf, for all his warrior-like appearance, seemed especially gentle with the children (a complete contrast to herself, who didn't like children at all), and when he offered to tell a tale, she decided to listen, placing her bag on the ground and folding her arms. She wondered what he would tell, and if it would give her some clues as to who this mysteriously pleasant man was.

She didn't know if Val had noticed her, but the young witch gave a small wave, just in case (she didn't want to be rude to one of the Bellamys!)

[Jinmenju]

In a room down one of those bleak corridors, Jinmenju had been handing out food along with a priestess of Cecilia at the orphanage. She was a rotund woman in fine vestments who looked stern on a good day, but was even harsher right now. She looked at them as though poverty and loss were contagious and she might come down with it from being around these wretches. She tried to live her life right. To follow the example of Cecilia and help the world, but it hadn't become part of her nature yet. She was still in the "fake it until you make it" part of her faith, hoping that right actions would form right habits and form right intentions allowing her to become a better person.

Jinmenju by contrast, wore a simple saffron robe made from a thin layer of threadbare cloth and a garland of flowers consisting of several smaller flowers that looked a bit like peach blossoms followed by a flower that looked like a pink plumeria with a bold blue spot like the wings of a morpho butterfly's wings in the middle. His robe was arranged so that it covered his right shoulder and arm, but left the left one exposed. He still wasn't entirely comfortable in clothes and preferred not to feel entirely trapped by the fabric. Modesty required him to wear something in this form, but he didn't have to like it any more than he liked having to hide his force form for fear of these people.

His bare feet were oddly as soft as the rest of his skin. Road dirt might dust them, but there were none of the callouses one would expect from someone who did this often, but he also showed no sign that it was uncomfortable to him. This body was transitory to him and minor things like that didn't have time to set in given how little time he spent in it. Perhaps if he wasn't shifting back to his force form every time he found some private place to bed down for the night he might actually start forming blisters and callouses, but for now his skin remained as soft as the petals of a flower.

He handed out fruits from a woven reed basket that was almost as big as him to the orphans as they took their turn. There was an assortment of fruits in there, but all of them were exotic. Some were native to the jungles of Ninraih, but others were from even more distant lands or were entirely new. While they were only being given a piece of the day old bread that the priestess was handing out to allow her to ration it out well enough that everyone could get something of it, there was more than enough fruits in his basket for them to each get one to themselves and possible steal a second when he wasn't looking.

He was a thin man looking like he had missed more meals than the children he was feeding, but he wore a warm smile as he handed out the food and was more than happy to switch out fruits when a child had one they preferred. There was no sign that he begrudged any emptiness in his belly that might come from giving this food to them or their pickiness. He took it all in stride. Even when he heard the commotion in the other room, he continued to listen intently to the child in front of him tell him all about why he liked the peelifruits more than the human faced fruits. While they had others to serve and there was some problem going on down the corridor, Jinmenju made no effort to hurry the kid along or dismiss what the child was saying. For that moment, the kid's love of peelifruit was the most important thing going on.

Once the kid was done he excused himself leaving the preistess to hand out both bread and fruit while he went to check on whatever was going on. He knew she wasn't going to want to give up the small barrier she had between herself and the kids to go wade into the masses. She had the stool she was using as a table to cut the bread to be doled out and they knew not to come on her side of it.. The look on her face made sure that they didn't forget. Meanwhile, Jinmenju didn't miss a beat or break stride as a boy wearing a crown of blue flowers attached himself to his side wrapping his little fist around a handful of the fabric of Jinmenju's robe. He simply made sure that he walked slow enough that the kid could keep up.

They had met yesterday when they struck up a conversation about the crown the boy wore now. It had been Jinmenju's, but the boy had started talking about how his mother used to weave them for his little sister. She even began leaving them on his sister's grave after they lost her. He had always thought that they were silly, but with the cough taking her and his grandfather recently he had started to miss watching her weave them and wished that he had gotten one from her before she passed or at least not made fun of them.

Jinmenju gave him his crown and hadn't gotten around to weaving a new one yet. It was enough for them to form the beginnings of a bond. The kid was scared and alone now. He might not have lost them to some great tragedy, but it had still shaken him to his core. His father's ship wouldn't return to port for at least another 15 days and that assumed that his ship came in at all. The loss of his mother had made the possibility of his father never returning all that realer to him. He needed someone to make him feel safe and Jinmenju had become that person.

They caught the second mention of a tale being told and the dwarf encouraging people to take seat. Jinmenju sat with his legs folded and his arms around the boy, who had taken a seat in Jinmenju's lap. Whether it was out of a trick of the mind latching on to anything familiar or a natural fluke of Jinmenju's presence, he felt like home and family. The scent of the flowers reminded the boy of his mother. The woody scent that seemed to cling to Jinmenju reminded him of the cedar his father used to mask the scent of fish that clung to him everytime he came home. Even Jinmenju's weak bony arms reminded the boy of the nights when his grandfather had been the one holding him as they sat beside the fire and told ghost stories.

[Val Bellamy]

Wherever the strange hairy man had come from, he had evidently heard her criticism before, clapping back with the kind of remark that left her brow initially furrowed like an angry badger defending its dugout, then flattened in a cascade of confusion, and finally indignantly arched in the suggestion of buried traps that awaited the storyteller. Val had pitched forward with a rebuttal and pointed finger, only to settle back against her spot along the wall, instead confirming, "What kind of flower shop are we talkin' about here? " She had a mind for the one on Fifth and Bonaville, but could be placated from a much larger variety.

To distract her from her floral figuring was Katarya, the gal as prim as ever, and Val felt the teensiest bit distraught that she hadn't greeted her properly before. She assumed the woman would enjoy her cover of feigned hermitage, but it proved a sobering reminder that someone having not met the bard was a far more suspicious story. She waved back, the hints of a wink buried somewhere in all the motion.

That only left the newest addition, a balding stick of a man who looked more a monk than a nanny. Worst of all was his presence - Val had never met the stranger before in her life, but there was that same vortex about him as Katarya and the others she met from time to time, that overwhelming spiral that deafened her bones and made her blood run mute. And, yes, Val was perfectly aware that absolutely none of that made sense. It remained the most accurate description she had ever found all the same.

"Ya thinkin' of adoptin'?" she said by way of introductory chin-jut at the newcomer, assuming him some kind of patron from the gaps of recollection from her own time under this roof. "And a lovely day to you, Miss Frost," uttered to the herbalist, a courteous bow and all. "Mum's been feeling more spry since your recommended poultice, and she'd like me to pass along the thanks," she lied with ease. Well, half-lied; it was a relevant interaction and all, simply not the one most pertinent.

That only left the dwarf to heckle, to which Val sprang to her duties at once and asked of him further, "Where did you say you were from, again? And dare I ask for the name of this most auspicious narrator? Before we begin the dramatics and regaling and all. Helps to set the story, I find." She smiled, and couldn't tell herself if it was the kind that hinted at silent enamoration or chronic disruptions and aggravation.

[Leiven Loramrai]

Lieven rolled his neck and cleared his throat as he made a final wave to the crowd. "I am Leiven Loramrai, of the village of Black Iron, deep in the Reaches," he said, a small measure of pride in his voice. "I'd appreciate kindly if the sharp-dressed woman try for quiet interest. Lest I ignore her much the same as I ignore the biting winter wind." He cleared his expression, drew in a great breath, and opened his eyes to spread a twinkle of mystery.

"Long ago, before the time of man and Dwarf, there was the great mountain by the name of Kohr, and he was grand in his majesty." Lieven raised his broad arms wide, trying in vain to encompass even the idea of the vastness of Kohr.

"He towered above his brothers and let himself be known to all the world," the Dwarf said, stepping towards the thin man holding a young boy among the other children. The Dwarf moved his hand from the smallest orphan to the man, to far above his own head.

"The mountain stood mighty dominion over the lands for many ages. Barren, yet powerful, as the lands around him filled with life," Leiven said, raising his chest up and standing tall and proud.

"As the eons drifted Kohr grew lonely, he looked to the lands below," the Dwarf held a hand to his brow, seeking far and wide down at the children. "He wondered. What had brought the lively plants and creatures with their colors and songs?" Leiven made several animal sounds, a hawk, a frog, and wiggled his nose with his hands held like bunny ears. "Are there any other animals he might of heard or seen?" the Dwarf asked, grinning at the children and then the gathered crowd.