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A Long Hard Rain - The Story of Autumn of Fallon - Completed: 8/14
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<blockquote data-quote="el-remmen" data-source="post: 2974142" data-attributes="member: 11"><p>(Philosophical Aside: If one is true to one's heart and learns to free the mind of fear then Fallon will speak to you. I had a great deal of fear then. It controlled my life, but I was learning slowly but surely. Many in this atmosphere of evil and ambivalence would become evil as well, but as terrible life seemed to be, some goodness in my heart prevailed. I know that everyone has this goodness in their heart and it need only be reached, either through compassion or through the mace, but it can be reached; for even a blow from my mace can be out of compassion as much as I am reluctant to exercise that option. Fallon and the gods of good speak to us constantly, if we would only listen. Our conscience, our pity, our wonder and respect, these are all the voices of the gods echoing in our minds and showing us the right choices. I am not claiming we are puppets of the gods, for it is obvious we all have freewill, but the gods want us to choose right and whether many realize it or not, they are always helping us to make the right decision. I had no real proof that the priests of Set had Sarah and her children killed, but I knew it in my heart as I had known little else and I trusted it. Fallon was guiding me.)</p><p></p><p>The year was 546 H.E. and I was barely eighteen years old and had been married a little more than a year. This was a bad year in the Black Islands and I was not exempt from the ill luck of the times. Not long after Sarah's death the troubled relationship between my husband and his father finally deteriorated beyond repair and Eric and I were forced to move off my father-in-law's property. Eric lost his position at the plantation. I am still not sure what Eric did to provoke his father in such a way, but later I learned from a servant that the rumor was that Eric had drunkenly insulted his brother and wife, Sarah, in public and had brought shame to the family. Eric took the little money he had saved and bought an even tinier cottage on the outskirts of the small town of Lambert. Lambert is several miles east of Geffanstag and is close to a fort where the Baron's standing army is trained. Eric took what he considered to be lowly job. While he was technically an officer, he was in charge of logistics and provisions at the fortress. He often referred to himself as a ‘trumped up cook’ and was miserable. Eric's other brother, Reginald, had gotten the job for him, but Eric cursed Reginald's charity and claimed that Reginald had only gotten him the position to mock him. Eric always felt that he should be a soldier, but he was too thin and often sickly and had always been treated like a runt by his family. During this time Eric's beatings became nightly. He took out all his frustrations and anger out on me and on occasion I could have sworn he called me father as he knocked me down; by now my face had begun to permanently become misshapen and on occasion my left eye would be swollen shut for days.</p><p></p><p>Eric did not make much money at his job and he often said the only good part of the job was that he got to wear a sword. Once or twice when very drunk and angry he menaced me with that sword and I would run from him and hide behind the house until he passed out from his stupor; even his attempts at reconciliation become less frequent. Regardless, the fact that Eric's job brought in little money became a large concern when I announced to him that I was with child. I had not been sure, as my mother had taught me little as a girl, but by the second time that Isis' Curse did not come to me I knew that I was with child. Despite the unhappiness of my life at that time, I was overjoyed. I naively thought that this would change the whole tenor of my marriage with Eric. In addition, I had begun to fear that I suffered from my parents' infertility and this soothed my fears. Eric only seemed mildly happy. He smiled and kissed me, but grumbled about another mouth to feed.</p><p></p><p>Rumors began to spread about the political situation with the Kingdom of Neergaard. It seemed that the expansionist nation of warrior-knights had taken it into their heads to try to control the sea trade in the area between itself and the Black Islands. (1) I do not know much about politics, but that did not seem right to me. Word had reached us that there were several battles at sea already and that the Neergaardians had sunk many of our ships and killed many of our men or taken them prisoner. Rumor also had it that an invading fleet might be making it way to our shores. The thought of war worried me. I abhorred violence (and still do, Fallon forgive me when I need to resort to it) and Eric's being involved with the military now did little to calm my fears. Eric, however, loved the prospect of war and would come home drunk in the evenings babbling about the wars of old and how Herman Land should never have given up its attempted conquest of Derome-Delem (2) and how our son would grow up to be a fierce warrior and that with any luck this coming war would last twenty years or more like the wars of old did, so that our son would have a chance to slay the braggart knights of Neergaard. </p><p></p><p>During this time Eric was required to remain within the fort for a week at time and on occasion went on maneuvers with the troops for a few days and once for over a fortnight. It was during this time, the only time I had ever had alone in my life, that I began to explore the town of Lambert and learn of it and meet some people there.</p><p></p><p>I had on occasion been to the markets but I had always hurried back. Now I lingered and looked at some of the exotic goods for sale there. Some of the merchants sold odd things that they advertised as being for "adventurers". I had heard of such people before, but had never met any. Eric spoke of them on occasion and did not like them either. (He had little good to say about anyone or anything). He had told me that one of the captains in the regiment of men he was attached to was an ex-adventurer. He said the man was always bragging about his feats and patted his supposedly magic sword. From the market I would wander around the shops and admire the dresses and goods I could not afford. More than once I spent an afternoon looking in the shop where Eric had took me to buy a dress over a year before. </p><p></p><p>Eventually I found a pottery shop. The shop's proprietor was named Malsted and he was an old man that did not look unlike my father, except he had broader shoulders. He said he once been a sailor, but had retired after a terrible shipwreck that had cost the lives of most of his crewmates. He had opened his shop fifteen years before. A friendship grew between Malsted and I. We would talk for a long time about pottery and then our conversation would change and we would talk of personal matters. He told me how he had been married and had a daughter, but ashamedly he had abandoned them for a life at sea and had not been able to find them again when he returned. I told him of my parents and I eventually even told him about Morn and my sister-in-law Sarah. I never told him about Eric beating me, but he seemed to know. (How could he look at my face and not?) His friendship helped me a great a deal those weeks that Eric was away, and I would visit Malsted everyday. Again I felt that this had happened for a reason. Looking back I know that Isis or Fallon put us together. He became the loving father I had always desired and I became the daughter he had abandoned. We could help each other and care for each other. In time I began to work on the wheel in his shop and the love for pottery reignited. He cleared off a shelf for my work alone and soon it was selling well. After the first week of my pottery selling Malstead called me into the back room .</p><p></p><p>"Autumn, my child, this is for you," he held a pouch of silver coins. </p><p></p><p>"I could not take money from you," I told him.</p><p></p><p>"I am giving you nothing. You earned this. This is the money for the pots you made that I sold."</p><p></p><p>"I did not make them for money. I made them out of joy and love. I do not want the money. "</p><p></p><p>"It was because you made them out of love that people were so drawn to them. Take this you earned it," Malsted put the pouch in my hand.</p><p></p><p>"But I used your wheel and your materials," I told him.</p><p></p><p>"And I subtracted a fair amount thusly. Don't worry your work is good for business. I have sold many of my pieces as well. I put a few of your works in the window to draw attention. "</p><p></p><p>I was overjoyed. I took the silver home and buried it in the back. Eric would have killed me if he learned of my pottery and especially if he knew I was making more money than he was. I figured that this would be a special fund for the baby when he or she came (though deep down inside I knew it would be a girl) and Eric need not know about it yet. Once the baby was born he would be too happy to care when a few items appeared for the baby. If he asked I would tell him that they had been gifts from his family. He would never know the difference and would be too proud to inquire of them. </p><p></p><p>Weeks passed and the year was waning. Winter arrived and Eric was gone from home a little less and I would spend the mornings helping him to remove snow from the front of the house, even though I was already showing. One evening I was setting the table for dinner, which was right by the front door and I heard it open. I looked up just in time to see Eric smash one of my pots in my face. I could feel shards of the ceramic cut into my face. One large piece felt lodged in my eyebrow. Somehow I managed to stay on my feet and looked up at Eric again with blood pouring into my eyes.</p><p></p><p>"You just love making a fool out of me, don't you?" Eric screamed at me and pushed me against the wall.</p><p></p><p>I was suddenly more frightened of him than I had ever been. I turned to run and he put his arm up stopping me and slapped me on the back of the head with his other hand. I tried to duck under his arm and he punched me on the side of the face. This time I hit the wall and slid down to the floor.</p><p></p><p>"Why have you been doing it'?" he asked, standing over me. I gurgled blood. He kicked me. "Why?!"</p><p></p><p>"Why what`?" I managed to gasp. I could feel anger swelling up in me and I had never felt that towards Eric in all the times he had beaten me. I had only ever felt remorse or pity or fear, but never anger.</p><p></p><p>"Don't act more stupid than you are," he said and pulled me up by my collar and knocked me against the wall. "I'll ask you one more time." </p><p></p><p>I scrunched up my face in anger and defiance. "None of your Set-lovin' business! " I screamed and spit blood in his face. Filled with the bizarre strength he would get when he was angry he shoved me across the room into the table. I slammed into it belly first and felt a sharp pain in my womb. I lay there on the table hunched over, weeping and crying, "The baby… The baby…" I felt Eric behind me and he leaned in close over me grabbing my hair in one hand putting the other hand around my neck. I was certain he would kill me. I was panting and crying.</p><p></p><p>"I have to spend the night at the fort tonight. When I get back in the morning I want you to have gone down to that little worm's shop, get all your sh*t and have it here in pieces for me to inspect. You understand`?" he asked.</p><p></p><p>"How did you know?" I managed to ask. He slammed my face against the table. I felt my nose crack.</p><p></p><p>"A gods-damned officer in the army was eating out of a gods-damned bowl you made! He looked up at me when I asked him how he liked the stew we were feeding the men while on the road, and said, 'I hear your wife's pottery is pretty popular around town. Too bad you'll never amount to nothing." Now it seemed that Eric too might cry. I felt my pity for him rise and then the pain in my belly and the blood pouring down my thigh reminded me what he had let his anger do to our baby. </p><p></p><p>"I'll be damned if I'll let my own wife act like she is better than me. You understand, bitch? You understand?!!!!! " he screamed.</p><p></p><p>"But Eric, the baby," he shoved me against the table again.</p><p></p><p>He paused and must have looked down at my leg. He must have realized what he had done. He stammered and then strengthened his resolve.</p><p></p><p>"It was probably a damned Isis-lovin' girl anyway." He let me drop to the ground and walked out. It took me a long time to get up. At first I just lie there crying holding my apron between my legs to try to stop the bleeding. And then I picked the shards of the pot from my face, chest and shoulders. By the time I had the strength to stand up I knew for certain that the baby was dead and I knew that I would not do what Eric asked of me. I would stand and defy him. If I had to I would leave using the money I had hidden in the back. </p><p></p><p>But again fate worked in my favor. That night the Black Islands Barony officially declared war on Neergaard and Eric was shipped off. I would not see him again.</p><p>--------------------------------------------------</p><p><strong>Notes:</strong></p><p></p><p>(1) This is a very skewed perspective on the Black-Neergaard War.</p><p></p><p>(2) The Little Kingdoms, featured in the “Out of the Frying Pan” and “The Promised Land” campaigns, were founded as a result of that war, often called “The Mountain Wars”.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="el-remmen, post: 2974142, member: 11"] (Philosophical Aside: If one is true to one's heart and learns to free the mind of fear then Fallon will speak to you. I had a great deal of fear then. It controlled my life, but I was learning slowly but surely. Many in this atmosphere of evil and ambivalence would become evil as well, but as terrible life seemed to be, some goodness in my heart prevailed. I know that everyone has this goodness in their heart and it need only be reached, either through compassion or through the mace, but it can be reached; for even a blow from my mace can be out of compassion as much as I am reluctant to exercise that option. Fallon and the gods of good speak to us constantly, if we would only listen. Our conscience, our pity, our wonder and respect, these are all the voices of the gods echoing in our minds and showing us the right choices. I am not claiming we are puppets of the gods, for it is obvious we all have freewill, but the gods want us to choose right and whether many realize it or not, they are always helping us to make the right decision. I had no real proof that the priests of Set had Sarah and her children killed, but I knew it in my heart as I had known little else and I trusted it. Fallon was guiding me.) The year was 546 H.E. and I was barely eighteen years old and had been married a little more than a year. This was a bad year in the Black Islands and I was not exempt from the ill luck of the times. Not long after Sarah's death the troubled relationship between my husband and his father finally deteriorated beyond repair and Eric and I were forced to move off my father-in-law's property. Eric lost his position at the plantation. I am still not sure what Eric did to provoke his father in such a way, but later I learned from a servant that the rumor was that Eric had drunkenly insulted his brother and wife, Sarah, in public and had brought shame to the family. Eric took the little money he had saved and bought an even tinier cottage on the outskirts of the small town of Lambert. Lambert is several miles east of Geffanstag and is close to a fort where the Baron's standing army is trained. Eric took what he considered to be lowly job. While he was technically an officer, he was in charge of logistics and provisions at the fortress. He often referred to himself as a ‘trumped up cook’ and was miserable. Eric's other brother, Reginald, had gotten the job for him, but Eric cursed Reginald's charity and claimed that Reginald had only gotten him the position to mock him. Eric always felt that he should be a soldier, but he was too thin and often sickly and had always been treated like a runt by his family. During this time Eric's beatings became nightly. He took out all his frustrations and anger out on me and on occasion I could have sworn he called me father as he knocked me down; by now my face had begun to permanently become misshapen and on occasion my left eye would be swollen shut for days. Eric did not make much money at his job and he often said the only good part of the job was that he got to wear a sword. Once or twice when very drunk and angry he menaced me with that sword and I would run from him and hide behind the house until he passed out from his stupor; even his attempts at reconciliation become less frequent. Regardless, the fact that Eric's job brought in little money became a large concern when I announced to him that I was with child. I had not been sure, as my mother had taught me little as a girl, but by the second time that Isis' Curse did not come to me I knew that I was with child. Despite the unhappiness of my life at that time, I was overjoyed. I naively thought that this would change the whole tenor of my marriage with Eric. In addition, I had begun to fear that I suffered from my parents' infertility and this soothed my fears. Eric only seemed mildly happy. He smiled and kissed me, but grumbled about another mouth to feed. Rumors began to spread about the political situation with the Kingdom of Neergaard. It seemed that the expansionist nation of warrior-knights had taken it into their heads to try to control the sea trade in the area between itself and the Black Islands. (1) I do not know much about politics, but that did not seem right to me. Word had reached us that there were several battles at sea already and that the Neergaardians had sunk many of our ships and killed many of our men or taken them prisoner. Rumor also had it that an invading fleet might be making it way to our shores. The thought of war worried me. I abhorred violence (and still do, Fallon forgive me when I need to resort to it) and Eric's being involved with the military now did little to calm my fears. Eric, however, loved the prospect of war and would come home drunk in the evenings babbling about the wars of old and how Herman Land should never have given up its attempted conquest of Derome-Delem (2) and how our son would grow up to be a fierce warrior and that with any luck this coming war would last twenty years or more like the wars of old did, so that our son would have a chance to slay the braggart knights of Neergaard. During this time Eric was required to remain within the fort for a week at time and on occasion went on maneuvers with the troops for a few days and once for over a fortnight. It was during this time, the only time I had ever had alone in my life, that I began to explore the town of Lambert and learn of it and meet some people there. I had on occasion been to the markets but I had always hurried back. Now I lingered and looked at some of the exotic goods for sale there. Some of the merchants sold odd things that they advertised as being for "adventurers". I had heard of such people before, but had never met any. Eric spoke of them on occasion and did not like them either. (He had little good to say about anyone or anything). He had told me that one of the captains in the regiment of men he was attached to was an ex-adventurer. He said the man was always bragging about his feats and patted his supposedly magic sword. From the market I would wander around the shops and admire the dresses and goods I could not afford. More than once I spent an afternoon looking in the shop where Eric had took me to buy a dress over a year before. Eventually I found a pottery shop. The shop's proprietor was named Malsted and he was an old man that did not look unlike my father, except he had broader shoulders. He said he once been a sailor, but had retired after a terrible shipwreck that had cost the lives of most of his crewmates. He had opened his shop fifteen years before. A friendship grew between Malsted and I. We would talk for a long time about pottery and then our conversation would change and we would talk of personal matters. He told me how he had been married and had a daughter, but ashamedly he had abandoned them for a life at sea and had not been able to find them again when he returned. I told him of my parents and I eventually even told him about Morn and my sister-in-law Sarah. I never told him about Eric beating me, but he seemed to know. (How could he look at my face and not?) His friendship helped me a great a deal those weeks that Eric was away, and I would visit Malsted everyday. Again I felt that this had happened for a reason. Looking back I know that Isis or Fallon put us together. He became the loving father I had always desired and I became the daughter he had abandoned. We could help each other and care for each other. In time I began to work on the wheel in his shop and the love for pottery reignited. He cleared off a shelf for my work alone and soon it was selling well. After the first week of my pottery selling Malstead called me into the back room . "Autumn, my child, this is for you," he held a pouch of silver coins. "I could not take money from you," I told him. "I am giving you nothing. You earned this. This is the money for the pots you made that I sold." "I did not make them for money. I made them out of joy and love. I do not want the money. " "It was because you made them out of love that people were so drawn to them. Take this you earned it," Malsted put the pouch in my hand. "But I used your wheel and your materials," I told him. "And I subtracted a fair amount thusly. Don't worry your work is good for business. I have sold many of my pieces as well. I put a few of your works in the window to draw attention. " I was overjoyed. I took the silver home and buried it in the back. Eric would have killed me if he learned of my pottery and especially if he knew I was making more money than he was. I figured that this would be a special fund for the baby when he or she came (though deep down inside I knew it would be a girl) and Eric need not know about it yet. Once the baby was born he would be too happy to care when a few items appeared for the baby. If he asked I would tell him that they had been gifts from his family. He would never know the difference and would be too proud to inquire of them. Weeks passed and the year was waning. Winter arrived and Eric was gone from home a little less and I would spend the mornings helping him to remove snow from the front of the house, even though I was already showing. One evening I was setting the table for dinner, which was right by the front door and I heard it open. I looked up just in time to see Eric smash one of my pots in my face. I could feel shards of the ceramic cut into my face. One large piece felt lodged in my eyebrow. Somehow I managed to stay on my feet and looked up at Eric again with blood pouring into my eyes. "You just love making a fool out of me, don't you?" Eric screamed at me and pushed me against the wall. I was suddenly more frightened of him than I had ever been. I turned to run and he put his arm up stopping me and slapped me on the back of the head with his other hand. I tried to duck under his arm and he punched me on the side of the face. This time I hit the wall and slid down to the floor. "Why have you been doing it'?" he asked, standing over me. I gurgled blood. He kicked me. "Why?!" "Why what`?" I managed to gasp. I could feel anger swelling up in me and I had never felt that towards Eric in all the times he had beaten me. I had only ever felt remorse or pity or fear, but never anger. "Don't act more stupid than you are," he said and pulled me up by my collar and knocked me against the wall. "I'll ask you one more time." I scrunched up my face in anger and defiance. "None of your Set-lovin' business! " I screamed and spit blood in his face. Filled with the bizarre strength he would get when he was angry he shoved me across the room into the table. I slammed into it belly first and felt a sharp pain in my womb. I lay there on the table hunched over, weeping and crying, "The baby… The baby…" I felt Eric behind me and he leaned in close over me grabbing my hair in one hand putting the other hand around my neck. I was certain he would kill me. I was panting and crying. "I have to spend the night at the fort tonight. When I get back in the morning I want you to have gone down to that little worm's shop, get all your sh*t and have it here in pieces for me to inspect. You understand`?" he asked. "How did you know?" I managed to ask. He slammed my face against the table. I felt my nose crack. "A gods-damned officer in the army was eating out of a gods-damned bowl you made! He looked up at me when I asked him how he liked the stew we were feeding the men while on the road, and said, 'I hear your wife's pottery is pretty popular around town. Too bad you'll never amount to nothing." Now it seemed that Eric too might cry. I felt my pity for him rise and then the pain in my belly and the blood pouring down my thigh reminded me what he had let his anger do to our baby. "I'll be damned if I'll let my own wife act like she is better than me. You understand, bitch? You understand?!!!!! " he screamed. "But Eric, the baby," he shoved me against the table again. He paused and must have looked down at my leg. He must have realized what he had done. He stammered and then strengthened his resolve. "It was probably a damned Isis-lovin' girl anyway." He let me drop to the ground and walked out. It took me a long time to get up. At first I just lie there crying holding my apron between my legs to try to stop the bleeding. And then I picked the shards of the pot from my face, chest and shoulders. By the time I had the strength to stand up I knew for certain that the baby was dead and I knew that I would not do what Eric asked of me. I would stand and defy him. If I had to I would leave using the money I had hidden in the back. But again fate worked in my favor. That night the Black Islands Barony officially declared war on Neergaard and Eric was shipped off. I would not see him again. -------------------------------------------------- [b]Notes:[/b] (1) This is a very skewed perspective on the Black-Neergaard War. (2) The Little Kingdoms, featured in the “Out of the Frying Pan” and “The Promised Land” campaigns, were founded as a result of that war, often called “The Mountain Wars”. [/QUOTE]
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A Long Hard Rain - The Story of Autumn of Fallon - Completed: 8/14
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