Anwar: Character background
Dec. 13th, 2010 09:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
velvetpageThis is a new character, in the Dark Sun setting for D&D4E. She's going to be fun to play.
As you've probably all noticed, I haven't been around much lately. That's because I have a job that doesn't require ranting from school anymore and DOES require that I be on task pretty consistently, so I haven't had reason to pop over. I'll strive to be around more!
Dear Ramses,
Mahir tells me that noble families and templars occasionally use writing to talk to each other over long distances. They write down their thoughts and a messenger takes the missive to the person they wish to speak with, who reads it and writes something back. It seems almost sacreligious to use writing for so mundane a purpose as to invite another family to dine. It's odd that those of exalted station can use writing for something that could so easily be accomplished with talking.
Or, between those like us, without even opening our mouths. What I wouldn't give to have your thoughts intertwined with mine again!
I have never before desired to write anything, but these last months without a word from you make me long for a way to find you. I know this letter will likely never leave my own mind, but even so I must compose it or go mad.
My earliest memories are of you. Never for a moment were we separated. I never envied the slaves who grew up with their families around them. I had you, and who else would I need? We learned everything together. We were pefectly matched as sparring partners, constantly challenging each other and yet knowing that neither would ever get the upper hand. How could we, when it seemed we shared a single will? We knew what the other would do in the very instant the thought was conceived. Sparring with you was pure joy.
Everyone calls me Anwar now. Nobody remembers you as Ramses. Nobody around me remembers you at all. When I lost you, I lost Hathor, too.
I'm free. At least, people tell me I'm free. I could go anywhere, do anything. One merchant family already approached me to guard for them. I don't have to stay and serve Mahir. He's been good to me, moreso these last months as his power crumbled. It's a good thing that thought can't escape my head. I'm not supposed to think like that about him.
I don't think I know how to be free. But I can't be the kind of slave I was. Fighting you killed that in me.
I don't know why I stay. I don't know what I want from Mahir, though I know what he wants from me. He has been good to me, but anyone would be, in his position; you don't want to anger the person who guards your back, especially with the amount of backstabbing in the city recently. Maybe even thinking about what I want from him is part of what it means to be free.
I never wished to kill you. No proclamation from an upstart king can free me from that.
As you've probably all noticed, I haven't been around much lately. That's because I have a job that doesn't require ranting from school anymore and DOES require that I be on task pretty consistently, so I haven't had reason to pop over. I'll strive to be around more!
Dear Ramses,
Mahir tells me that noble families and templars occasionally use writing to talk to each other over long distances. They write down their thoughts and a messenger takes the missive to the person they wish to speak with, who reads it and writes something back. It seems almost sacreligious to use writing for so mundane a purpose as to invite another family to dine. It's odd that those of exalted station can use writing for something that could so easily be accomplished with talking.
Or, between those like us, without even opening our mouths. What I wouldn't give to have your thoughts intertwined with mine again!
I have never before desired to write anything, but these last months without a word from you make me long for a way to find you. I know this letter will likely never leave my own mind, but even so I must compose it or go mad.
My earliest memories are of you. Never for a moment were we separated. I never envied the slaves who grew up with their families around them. I had you, and who else would I need? We learned everything together. We were pefectly matched as sparring partners, constantly challenging each other and yet knowing that neither would ever get the upper hand. How could we, when it seemed we shared a single will? We knew what the other would do in the very instant the thought was conceived. Sparring with you was pure joy.
Everyone calls me Anwar now. Nobody remembers you as Ramses. Nobody around me remembers you at all. When I lost you, I lost Hathor, too.
I'm free. At least, people tell me I'm free. I could go anywhere, do anything. One merchant family already approached me to guard for them. I don't have to stay and serve Mahir. He's been good to me, moreso these last months as his power crumbled. It's a good thing that thought can't escape my head. I'm not supposed to think like that about him.
I don't think I know how to be free. But I can't be the kind of slave I was. Fighting you killed that in me.
I don't know why I stay. I don't know what I want from Mahir, though I know what he wants from me. He has been good to me, but anyone would be, in his position; you don't want to anger the person who guards your back, especially with the amount of backstabbing in the city recently. Maybe even thinking about what I want from him is part of what it means to be free.
I never wished to kill you. No proclamation from an upstart king can free me from that.