Welcome to the Birdcage

[Peridan]

Bernard leans against a tree, writing in a small, leather bound book that looks like it's seen better days. His massive great sword lies not even an arm's reach away, and a fire crackles in his recently made fire pit. Bernard's emerald eyes move back and forth as he writes, placing his thoughts within.


He writes: It's been over a week since I fell into this place. I think I've shook off the blighters. I was hipped into a gate and landed here. Apparently I've been hipped on the Prime, of all things. Shit. While it will take them a long time to find a Cager like me, I dunno about dealing with these berks. Clueless they are, about a lot of things. They think the whole sodding multiverse revolves around them.


Although I met one cutter, a dwarf who uses a broom to fight. While not the strangest things I've seen in my days, it certainly ranks up there with the Ooze elemental that once sneezed on a Tanar'ri before a match. That was a bad time. He seemed well-lanned about this Exigo company that runs the Hills. Too bad they have a goblin infection that will probably go away as soon as the Lady decides to give up the Cage. Not sodding likely.


Arialle. I wonder if she's all right. I wonder if I'll ever see her again, if I'll be able to hold her. I doubt it. The only thing I can do is keep running, and get stronger. Strong enough to defeat Eblis, may the Lady curse his name! I'll destroy him for what he's done. I'll send him back to the Abyss for a hundred years, a thousand for his sins.

At this point, he stops writing, his rage blackening his vision and his quill snaps in half easily under his anger. He takes a few deep breaths and continues, reaching into his bag for a spare.

The rage has been getting the better of me lately. When I fight, I have to think of nothing but technique to forestall the rage from consuming me. It's only a matter of time, I suppose.

Vengeance shall be swift, it shall be vicious, and it shall be terrible.


Bernard, Prime Year 1372

[Peridan]

Caged Bird

Bernard takes a seat once again, this time overlooking the Sundren Gate into the valley. His new blade, 'Deva's Wing' sits beside him glowing faintly in the coming dawn. Bernard himself looks haggard, but none to worse for the wear. His eyes take in the sunrise, because he has never seen one before he came here, to this plane.

For all its troubles and addle-coved Primes, this place still had some spunk in it.

He removes the journal from his bag, wind tussling his short cropped peppered hair, and begins to write.

"I don't know who my parents were. I'm not sure how I ended up in Sigil, if I was born there or if I hipped there by accident. But my earliest memories were of Arialle and Talin. We were always together, it seems. The first Rule of Sigil after all is the Rule of Three. Everything happens in three's, and we were no different. We combed the streets of the city, looking for jink and food. We dodged the faction members and did our best to survive no matter what the cost, even if it meant stealing or hurting others. But we were always loyal to one another, despite the fact."

He pauses, his memories taking hold for a moment as he can hear laughter and see his friends in his mind as they stole a loaf of bread from an Earth Gensai merchant. Scampering away, the wings on his friends' backs' flapping exictedly as they dived into their well known hole across the street to share their hard gotten gains.

He can also hear whimpers of hunger, and hurt. Some of the other kid gangs adopted faction membership early on, and were stronger because of it. They had weapons to beat them with, more food to sate themselves on. Bernard vividly remembers sheltering Arialle from a flying bat aimed at her face. He broke his arm that day, blocking that bat as Talin came from behind and smashed the back of the guy's head with a rock.

Bernard shakes the memories away, and continues to write.

"They were angel children, twins. They had glowing eyes, and small wings on their backs. I always thought they were beautiful, even when covered in blood from a beating, or in the murky light that passed for dawn in Sigil. I always felt like the ugly human, stuck in their midst. But they never treated me any different, they were even more normal than most kids on the street in those days. They were my family, and that was enough for me."

"As we grew older, Talin learned how to steal better. He never got caught by a merchant (although with other thieves it's an entirely other story), even the Beholder-kin that sold those delicious fruit pies. Arialle learned to tap into her heritage from their parents, and could heal us whenever we were hurt. She was planning on developing her skills enough to make some money by selling her services. As for me...well, I learned how to fight efficiently. I protected Arialle from thugs who wanted to use her when Talin was away, and I made sure I was able to get Talin out of whatever trouble he got himself into. I even remember the day I found that rusty old blade that was too big for me. I treasured that thing until the day we were captured, and watched as it lay broken in the street as the Pit Hounds dragged us away."

"Life was pretty good, until we were dragged to the pits. Pretty damn good."

Bernard, Prime Year 1372


Bernard finishes writing, the sun is making its lazy way across the sky. He packs the journal away and picks up his blade. It hums faintly against his back, and he feels reassured, for some reason. Bernard heads off, to make some money and to train his swordsmanship.