Discord
Changelog
08-01-2020, 09:59 PM
Life is never easy for a slave, worse for those born into the hell one calls the life of a slave. I never knew my mother or father. I was ripped from her the moment I was born and taken to the auctions. I was auctioned off as babies are valuable, no prior attachments, can be trained as they are wanted to be. My new Master dumped me into the arms of his slave girl and told her to rear me till I was five. I remember her first words to me, the first words every spoken to me and they were filled with sadness. "I am sorry little one, the hell you will endure growing up, is only the beginning of the hell you will know for the rest of your life. Once a slave, always a slave, there is no other hope for you." For the first five years, she would remind me that. Then eventually I would be taken from her and given to the Masters son. A life of pain, suffering, abuse and torment. As he grew he would become more violent, liked to test his hand as a tattooist on my skin and find new ways to cause pain.
By the time I was in my early thirties, his father died. Leaving me in the care of his tyrannical son who now had his own child. I wish I could say things got better, but in reality they just kept getting worse. I wish I could say his son was better, or kinder, but that too would be a lie. If anything he was more cruel. Testing magics, drinking to excess and coming to torment me while drunk. Carving deep marks into my skin and testing how much pain I could endure before blacking out. They were a family of monsters. For fifty years I put up with his hell, his father dying rather young due to some "accident" which more I think meant he stepped a foot out of line and they removed him. After his fathers death he took it very hard. His drinking and even drug abuse became worse and more obvious. He became more cruel, which led to the incident...
I had been asleep in my closet, I wish I could say a room, but it wasn't really even that. I heard him coming, drunk as ever shouting my name. I cringed hearing him, I could always tell when he was drunk, his words would slur and his anger was insatiable. When the door opened I saw a look in his eyes I had only ever seen once prior, murderous, nothing that would promise my survival if I didn't act. I saw the flash of the knife as he came over grabbing me at the neck and started cutting. I didn't think, I just acted. I had to save my own life because I truly believe he would have killed me. He must have gotten into the much stronger liquor making him more crazy then usual. It is forbidden for a slave to touch their Master but I punched him, and when he kept coming, I continued fighting...till eventually he stopped moving. I only then looked at myself and realized, not all the blood on me was mine...a lot of it was his. He lay dead at my feet, not moving, not breathing. I did the only thing a slave could do in this situation...I fled. A slave that gets nailed for killing their Master, without protection from another Master will be put to death. I have no one. He sired no children, no direct family I know of. There is only me now running...though how far can one really run from Eltabbar when one cannot leave Thay without their Master?
I don't know...
Alendril.
By the time I was in my early thirties, his father died. Leaving me in the care of his tyrannical son who now had his own child. I wish I could say things got better, but in reality they just kept getting worse. I wish I could say his son was better, or kinder, but that too would be a lie. If anything he was more cruel. Testing magics, drinking to excess and coming to torment me while drunk. Carving deep marks into my skin and testing how much pain I could endure before blacking out. They were a family of monsters. For fifty years I put up with his hell, his father dying rather young due to some "accident" which more I think meant he stepped a foot out of line and they removed him. After his fathers death he took it very hard. His drinking and even drug abuse became worse and more obvious. He became more cruel, which led to the incident...
I had been asleep in my closet, I wish I could say a room, but it wasn't really even that. I heard him coming, drunk as ever shouting my name. I cringed hearing him, I could always tell when he was drunk, his words would slur and his anger was insatiable. When the door opened I saw a look in his eyes I had only ever seen once prior, murderous, nothing that would promise my survival if I didn't act. I saw the flash of the knife as he came over grabbing me at the neck and started cutting. I didn't think, I just acted. I had to save my own life because I truly believe he would have killed me. He must have gotten into the much stronger liquor making him more crazy then usual. It is forbidden for a slave to touch their Master but I punched him, and when he kept coming, I continued fighting...till eventually he stopped moving. I only then looked at myself and realized, not all the blood on me was mine...a lot of it was his. He lay dead at my feet, not moving, not breathing. I did the only thing a slave could do in this situation...I fled. A slave that gets nailed for killing their Master, without protection from another Master will be put to death. I have no one. He sired no children, no direct family I know of. There is only me now running...though how far can one really run from Eltabbar when one cannot leave Thay without their Master?
I don't know...
Alendril.