A Notebook in a Bag

Diaries, logs, and personal notes.
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Brannwynn
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A Notebook in a Bag

Post by Brannwynn » 05/07/15

(This is a character history/journal type story thread and is OOC knowledge unless revealed by the character to your character ICly or your character was involved in it. This is from the character's point of view of RPed events in her life. I hoped I wouldn't have to add this to any of these...but I have had issues with people using OOC gained information ICly. This is why this has been added.

Characters are owned by the players and they are intellectual property of their players. They have been copyrighted. Do not use without permission.)


The Diary of Brannwynn Ravenclaw

*Written in graceful Feir’dal script within the pages of a small notebook within the bag she carries constantly*

Tomias has told me often to listen to the elders and the counsel of those mystics in the clan. I know he worries about my drinking whiskey the way I do - especially when I go on binges of Orc killing. He thinks it is my way of grieving. Perhaps it is. I’ve been doing it so long I don’t know what else to do.

I sat in council with one of the clan mystics who recommended I start writing down what I am thinking and feeling when I want to go on a run about. I don’t know if she is right. For Tomias, I will try it.

I hate it when he looks at me disappointedly and worriedly. I don’t know how to change that look. If this notebook will help me do so, I will try it. Honestly, right now even thinking about it I want a bottle of Whiskey...the stronger the better. I can’t help thinking I’m going to do something to disappoint him so much….

*The thought is unfinished on the page.*
Last edited by Brannwynn on 05/17/15, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: A Notebook in a Bag

Post by Brannwynn » 05/08/15

I only ever heard them call him Morholt or the Morholt. To me, my father was a large Feir’dal with laughing eyes of sorrow. His voice I imagine once echoed in laughter, but it was rare for us to hear it. It was soft and deep. When I was born, the laughter and light left him. My mother became ill. She is always ill in my memory.

I don’t remember much about her. Occasionally, I think I remember her voice, but I am probably just imagining it. Without knowing I had heard, I remember him telling my brothers I looked more like her everyday. I don’t know much about her other than she was from Felwithe. She wasn’t one of those who had changed their species to Renda’dal, but a line of Feir’dal who had been exiled from there shortly after the Shattering.

She had been blonde with a slight red highlight which was the only difference in her and myself according to their stories. I have his hair with a red tint which makes the orange only brighter. I was very young when she died. Too young to have full memories of her. I remember things though. Her touch and voice is something the mind did not forget. I also remember feelings. I think I worshipped her. I don’t remember much of my father before she died. I know he was there as were my brothers, but my mother was my world. She was all I knew or cared about. Then she died.

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Re: A Notebook in a Bag

Post by Brannwynn » 05/11/15

There are times when I see my reflection and I wonder how much I really look like her...or him. There’s no one to tell me know. I have no family left that I know of. I’m sure there were some of my mother’s family left somewhere in the Faydark or possibly even in New Tunaria. Yet in all my hunts there, I’ve never seen them.

Perhaps there are also members of my father’s family in Kelethin, Qeynos, or Faydark. I have no idea about his people. He never spoke of them to us...at least not that I can remember. That brings me to rumors only.

Kelethin remembers my father. They allow me to keep a home there. His home. The manor is not quite what it was when we were children. It’s even less what it was before I was born. I’ve moved things and gotten rid of things as the just didn’t mean anything to keep. Their graves are in the garden balcony created there by my father for my mother. I have often found myself asleep there. Somehow their graves give me peace in my anger. I miss them. I miss them all...and the memories fade more and more each day.

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