Age 100-150
It’s been a long time since I got this journal. I never could write in it as a child, but now that I’m away from home I find it comforting to think that my sisters are reading my writing and giggling over my antics. It’s really hard to be away from them. I find myself thinking that I need to ask Autumn this, or tell Essy that. But we aren’t just a room away from each other anymore. I don’t even know WHERE they are. I run my fingers along the tattoo on my wrist every night and wonder if they are ok. Everyone seemed to have an idea of what they wanted to do when they left home, except for me. I played it off of course, telling them of grand plans to open a shop, to become my own merchant family. But I think my father killed that dream long ago. Or maybe it’s more precise to say that I let him kill my love of that dream. I’m going to travel to Chult. I have heard that Port Nyanzaru is one of the most beautiful and mercantile of cities. Maybe there I can rekindle my love for the dream.
Its’s been two months since my last entry. Port Nyanzaru was magnificent. The smells, the sounds the colors! There was a place called the Grand Souk that was just stall after stall of anything and everything you could want to buy! I’ve never really been interested in thievery, but even MY palms itched looking at the strange and wonderful things I found there. I didn’t rekindle my desire to be a merchant, but I may have found a new dream. There are guides all over the city that offer to escort people through the jungle. When I read their posts on the message board it felt *right*. I went to that beautiful place to find purpose, and I did. I am almost done sailing back to the mainland. I am headed north to Baldur’s Gate now. I am going to start an escort business for caravans and merchants. I will offer my services to the people to help protect their goods and bodies on the road. I hate to say it, but all those fights with Faelin as a child have turned out to be one of the most useful things I ever learned. He’d probably be pissed as hell to find out he did me a favor.
I took my first job today. Simple run Baldur’s Gate to Neverwinter. It was…different. I enjoyed it, but I think I miss my sisters. I kept thinking about them and wanting to ask them questions, wanting to share some flower I saw with Autumn, or share a dirty joke with Essy. One of the merchants got a little fresh and now he keeps casting me nasty looks. Just what I need. A fight without Essy here to back me up.
That stupid merchant thought he could hire some thugs to “convince” me. Guess I’m going back to Baldur’s Gate tonight instead of sleeping at the Inn like everyone else. I don’t know what he paid them, but they wouldn’t stop fighting. I think I may have killed one, he went down and I tried to stop the fight to make sure he was OK, but they just wouldn’t STOP! This is so messed up. I miss you Essy…
The next two jobs went the same way. Some idiot in the caravan decides he just can’t deal with NO. I fixed the problem, I think. I don’t talk, I don’t joke around. I found some black half plate that is super scary looking and I spent precious coin on a matching helmet. Now I’m not a girl anymore, I’m the scary black knight. The helmet muffles my voice, so they all think I’m a man now, by the name of Bern. My sisters would laugh their asses off if they knew.”
Oh my gawd. What I wouldn’t give to have my sisters here right now. A few of the men in the caravan I’m leading invited me for drinks at the campfire tonight. Where they started asking me all about my “conquests”. I swear; one day I will show you all this entry and tell you all about tonight. I made up the wildest stories y’all. It was really awkward at first, but then I realized they didn’t need any actual stories, just hints and they made up the rest. I’d be like, “This one time, there was this beautiful elf girl. Long blonde hair, red at the tips…” and I’d nudge the guy next to me and kind of chuckle and he would tell the rest of the story for me. Apologies if any of you ever meet these guys, I think I gave a good enough description about each of us that they could pick us out of a line up..Anyway, it was nice, getting to talk and laugh, even if none of them knew they were swapping stories with a female. It felt nice to be included for once, and not as an object. Though I do feel a little bad about how they talked about the other women in the caravan.
The caravan I’m in is headed to Waterdeep. I don’t know if I can do it. I know Tums goes home. But it’s…I just don’t know. I get so angry at them both! It would be nice to see mom though. I miss her. Will she hate what I’ve become? I dress in half plate, I wear a helmet so that others don’t know I’m a girl. I share ribald stories with other guards. I’m not the girl she used to know. She always wanted us to be safe. This job is anything *but* safe.
Those fucking bastards! I travelled all the way from Waterdeep to fucking ten towns with them. We fought bandits together. We fucking …we had each others backs! I can’t understand it. They treated me like an equal, a valued team member on the road. All the horror stories I heard from other females I was like ‘oh not, not these guys’. It’s a fucking good thing I never drink, or I’d likely be in a ditch somewhere pregnant with those animals child. If Robyn ever finds out he’ll kill them. //I// nearly killed them. How the hell am I supposed to do this as a way of life if I can’t even trust the men I fucking fight with? (there are spots where the paper looks wet, but the ink hasn’t run…got that goooood drow ink 😉 ) I think this is the only time in my life I’ve ever wanted to be a man.
Fucking helmet bullshit. I hate this. I can’t see anything, and its hot as fuck. It doesn’t even matter that I use a lower voice, how can anyone even understand me in this thing? And now I can’t take my stupid armor off to cool down. This was a fucking horrible idea. At least no one tries to rape me anymore.
Where are you Robyn? I ask about leppers every place I go. I know you are out here, somewhere. When I reach people who seem to be a little more open I ask about drow males. You should see the funny looks I get. Pale surface elf girl, looking for drow male. I bet I could toss whole loaves of bread in some of their mouthes. I did have one guy ask if I was albino…I guess thats a complement? Or is that an insult? Would you consider me more attractive if I was your own race?
We got attacked today. Stupid bandit bullshit. Im going to sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be better. I’m exhausted.
We ran into something really fucking weird today. Our weapons couldn’t touch it, the only saving grace was a holy man who held up a symbol of his god and called for help. Fucking terrifying. I started collecting them today. I may not find all that much faith in a particular deity, but the man said sometimes just the symbol is enough to give some creatures pause. If it helps me save a few lives, I’ll wear a symbol to every god I can find.
Rest day today. So while everyone else is spending their coin on wine, women, and whatnot, here I am, visiting the seediest parts of town I can find, looking for Drow. One of these days I’m going to find you on these little trips and you are going to knock my head in. I just know it.
I..found one. It cost me a pretty penny, all my pennies. Hell. I’m sleeping in the barn tonight writing this by the light of the moon. But I learned some thing. It was a male. I’m not sure what he thought of me. Thankfully since I am in armor and a helmet he didn’t peg me as an elf. That wouldn’t have gone well. As it is I’m not sure why he let me walk away. I really was expecting him to try and kill me. He gave me what I wanted though. Ussta’che. My love. Ut’silti ussa. Make me yours. Ussa’che dos. I love you. Nearly 200 gold spent for three phrases. I hope you like them. I think I might pull my hair out if you don’t.
I found the most beautiful sword today. Found may be the wrong word. A minotaur appeared, stabbed it into the ground, then got sucked back into a portal. Its beautiful. It gleams silver and has a huge emerald on the hilt. It talks to me. I’m not sure if I’m finally going crazy or if it’s real. It feels real. I didn’t have magic before. But the sword…Robyn I wish you could see it. It slices through anything as if it’s no more resistance than a nice slab of meat. I feel like I can dance across the battlefield untouched. I’ve never felt more self-assured. It’s…almost as good as having you.
The caravan ran into an ambush today. Goblinoids. We weren’t ready for the attack. Some of the caravan didn’t make it. I sliced them up like cucumbers in mom’s kitchen but there always seemed to be more of them. Luckily a band of mercenaries were travelling as well and helped us fend off the attack. They are good people. I think I’d like to do that someday. Maybe something else though. Maybe a mercenary company that escorts caravans. So that we don’t have to lose anyone along the way. It’s a thought.
The company travelled with us for a little while. Turns out they belong to the Zhentarim. I got given some contact info for when we get to Neverwinter. It sounds like a good investment. They are well trained, well paid, and respected. I asked around. I think I’ll see what kind of work they might have for me. Sargon is causing problems though. One of the mercenaries got friendly with me. I got called over to investigate his headless corpse just after I got done trancing. The sword killed him. I don’t know how to feel about this. I didn’t really know the guy, but…what have I gotten myself into?
Add well informed to the list of things they are. When I expressed an interest the contact I was given told me they need some people to go escort some caravans. Apparently theres reports of monster attacks in the area and they want to make sure the people are safe. I’m to head out within the hour with a group of us to see if we can intervene before anyone gets killed. The money’s good too!
I whisper my phrases at night, terrified I’ll forget them. I lie in bed and pretend you’re next to me. I weave illusions of you, but they never fill the ache. I whisper my words to you and the illusion shatters. I have no idea if my fantasy will ever come true. It feels like you’ve dropped off the face of the planet. Maybe I was too late. I receive letters but no one has seen you. Where are you Robyn?
I try to talk to Sargon about you. I’m worried. He doesn’t like the idea of ‘sharing’ me. And I don’t think there’s much I can do about it. I think I’ve almost convinced him you would be an asset. A loyal male to serve as my lieutenant. A master assassin. A necromancer. A powerful ‘tool’. Finding you and not being able to have you would break something inside of me. I whisper prayers to the darkness and hope you hear them.
It’s gone! I was cleaning it, I set it down for half a second, to put the polish away, and that damned minotaur took it! Just appeared out of thin air and snatched my sword from me. How could I have lost it!? It feels like an ache inside of me. I can hear it whisper in my thoughts, telling me to find it, to claim it. That I’m a more worthy bearer. But how?! How do I find a sword when it could be anywhere? I don’t even know how to find the minotaur! Oh Robyn! I feel like..like there is a part of me missing. Maybe I should say a bigger part. Whatever part of me you have with you has been missing for decades. Would that you could give it back to me. Though I’d rather you gave me a piece of you instead.
I don’t know how to feel. I’ve been with Sargon so long, he was my only friend, confidant, teacher. He made my life hard, and alienated everyone else. I can’t count the number of bodies I’ve had to explain or hide. But now that he’s gone…I feel more alone than ever. I don’t know how to do this without any of you. Without my sisters, without you, without the sword. I feel…empty.
Life feels listless. I walk the roads, the same way I have for the past 40 years. Its hard to stay engaged. I can’t find you. I thought surely, after 40 years I would find some trace of you. But you stay perpetually out of reach. I feel the loss of the sword like a headache that won’t go away. I lost two people on this past caravan. I don’t even know their names. Maybe this isn’t the right job for me.
Fuck captain Myron. Old codger. Who does he think he is? Knocking me in the head and telling me to stop dreaming of ladies and watch the road. I’m not some idiot first timer. I know my job. Let him try it one more time and see what happens to him. If you were here you’d have taken his hands for hitting me…wishes are like assholes you know.
I haven’t written in a while. I’m sorry love. Myron isn’t that bad. And you know…he was right. I was daydreaming. Maybe day nightmaring is a better description. He sure hits hard though. I swear he must be made of rock. Even with the helmet he backhanded me to the ground today. I really should have kept my mouth shut. Telling him to suck my dick wasn’t my smartest move. It was bad. I had thought about telling him before now. He is always so careful of the females. I knew if he found out he’d be furious. I was right. My helmet fell off when I hit the ground. When he saw the pile of white hair come spilling out I felt my heart stop. He started cursing and yelling at me in I don’t even know *what* language. Then he dragged me off the road and into the trees. He made me tell him the whole story, and he…he held me while I cried. I never cried before. He said he wishes I’d take the helmet off, that I’d go back to being myself. I told him I can’t, I wouldn’t tell him why. He said if I keep being a boy that it’s gonna look suspicious, that he won’t be able to punish me like he ought to. I made him promise to make it look good, and I’d do the rest. He wasn’t happy. I think he’s angry with me. I hope you never read this. He’s a good man Robyn. Please believe that.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the sword. About all the murders I covered up and the loneliness of never being able to form an attachment for fear of their death. I think the sword is gone for good. I rarely even hear whispers in my dreams. The ache is starting to fade.
I’ve been with Myron for a little while now. 40 years I’ve been doing this job, 40 years and in less than 6months Myron has taught me more about it than I’ve known before. I follow him from caravan to caravan now. Package deal and all that. I’m getting quite the reputation. Bern the Black. He still tries to get me to stop hiding. I’m not ready. I don’t feel like Hiberna anymore. I’m just Bern, the caravan mercenary, fang of the Zhentarim, lovesick foolish girl. You’d laugh if you were here. I tell firelight stories about my sisters. How I slept with them at night, how I kissed them. The men I tell stories to think they are hearing raunchy stories of male conquest, and instead are getting sleepovers and tea parties! I still whisper my phrases before bed at night. Wish I could find you. Safe travels.