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((Glimpses into the past of my character Das Ju’ent. Something that I rarely had a chance to expand on in game, but shaped her timid beginnings greatly. ))
A young child sits alone at an aged wooden table. Her gaze is fixed on the weathered pages of an open book lit by candlelight. As the light recedes, in every direction she is surrounded by row after row of shelves; each filled to their limit with tomes, scrolls and dust. Her slender pointed ears twitch at a sharp creak as she reaches to turn the page. She gasps, clutching herself.
Her eyes dart around her looking for the telltale signs of her predator: perhaps a glint of teeth and crimson scales before she burns? Or the stench of decaying flesh heralding her death. She could think of so many; and of course, she did. Each gruesome scenario was soon replaced with an even more dreadful end. She shivers, terror gripping her till from behind a bony hard grasps her shoulder.
With a shriek she spins around, falling from her chair to the floor. She winces then, rubbing her head with closed eyes. She opens them to find the impassive gaze of an elderly man. He looks to her through a pair of ornate bronze glasses covering his sunken eyes.
“Your imagination has gotten the better of you, Apprentice.” He says in a measured even tone.
“Again.”
She gulps then and ducks her head in shame, staring at the cold stone.
“I- I’m sorry, Master. I will n-”
“Do you remember my words?” He interrupts.
She pauses, stealing a glance up at him. He narrows his eyes in response and speaks:
“I am not a coward. I am not afraid. I am simply all too aware,”
“-of that which is likely not there.” She finishes the phrase with a wry grin.
His thin lips curve into a small smile and he nods.
“Good. You must not give in to fear, Apprentice. It is the bane of fools. But you.”
He pauses, letting the words hang in the air.
“You are to be a creature of knowledge. One need not fear what they understand.”
She nods quickly at that and climbs back into her chair.
“I will leave you to your studies.” And with that, he turns to walk back into the darkness.
She breathes a sigh of relief and looks back to the book. With a groan, she realizes that she’s lost her place and resigns herself to starting over. Yet, somewhere in the distance a board creeks. Her eyes widen and she clutches her forearm with one hand. But her eyes remain set on the page, scanning over line after line as her lips make a soft whisper.
“I am not a coward. I am not afraid.”
A young child sits alone at an aged wooden table. Her gaze is fixed on the weathered pages of an open book lit by candlelight. As the light recedes, in every direction she is surrounded by row after row of shelves; each filled to their limit with tomes, scrolls and dust. Her slender pointed ears twitch at a sharp creak as she reaches to turn the page. She gasps, clutching herself.
Her eyes dart around her looking for the telltale signs of her predator: perhaps a glint of teeth and crimson scales before she burns? Or the stench of decaying flesh heralding her death. She could think of so many; and of course, she did. Each gruesome scenario was soon replaced with an even more dreadful end. She shivers, terror gripping her till from behind a bony hard grasps her shoulder.
With a shriek she spins around, falling from her chair to the floor. She winces then, rubbing her head with closed eyes. She opens them to find the impassive gaze of an elderly man. He looks to her through a pair of ornate bronze glasses covering his sunken eyes.
“Your imagination has gotten the better of you, Apprentice.” He says in a measured even tone.
“Again.”
She gulps then and ducks her head in shame, staring at the cold stone.
“I- I’m sorry, Master. I will n-”
“Do you remember my words?” He interrupts.
She pauses, stealing a glance up at him. He narrows his eyes in response and speaks:
“I am not a coward. I am not afraid. I am simply all too aware,”
“-of that which is likely not there.” She finishes the phrase with a wry grin.
His thin lips curve into a small smile and he nods.
“Good. You must not give in to fear, Apprentice. It is the bane of fools. But you.”
He pauses, letting the words hang in the air.
“You are to be a creature of knowledge. One need not fear what they understand.”
She nods quickly at that and climbs back into her chair.
“I will leave you to your studies.” And with that, he turns to walk back into the darkness.
She breathes a sigh of relief and looks back to the book. With a groan, she realizes that she’s lost her place and resigns herself to starting over. Yet, somewhere in the distance a board creeks. Her eyes widen and she clutches her forearm with one hand. But her eyes remain set on the page, scanning over line after line as her lips make a soft whisper.
“I am not a coward. I am not afraid.”