Ixthid

Glima: Origins

                                   "Light grew fond of my sight as I pulled myself into this life. As the stories go, I was plopped onto a stack of hay on the sewer floors of Orenian Empire." -Story told by Glima Deshayes

A pair of unsightly boggarts had bore a set of children, Griska and Glima Deshayes. The child had formed an emotional bond like none other. The unlikeliness of their successful birth in the sewers of Orenian Empire could be described as miraculous, yet it immediately brought about their life of persecution. The twins emerged with beautiful features that when compared to the disfigured and greasy mottled  pocked visage of the 58 year old cursed mother (a geriatric and "miraculous" birth, but this LotR so suspend the disbelief.) . As the newborns screeched, so too did the reluctant midwife who delivered them, running from the sewers yelling of a demon birthed by a witch. So began the hunting of Griska and Glima, and their mother Trasha Nurom. Griska was small and stunted and mentally impaired.

The coming years were fleeting memories for the twins, yet they were the closest thing to a normal life they would know. The journey with their mother was what they believed all children underwent, the games of running and hiding all the way through the Shire's countryside being an ordinary occurrence. At the age of five, a new challenge to the game was presented as their mother fell ill. Pale and exhausted, Trasha had no choice, but to pass responsibility of collecting food onto Glima. The girl, burdened under extra responsibility at such a young age, set out from their forest tent and marched to the nearby town. Though a peculiar sight, she did what she had been trained for, waiting for an opening at the market and swiping whatever food she could. It was a victory in the game, but one short-lived.

After midnight, glowing flames surrounded the family's encampment, bobbing through the darkness. A single commanding shout broke the night's silence and a mob of witch hunters streamed in. Grubby hands tore the twins from their bed, Griska frantically kicking all who approached. Trasha cried for her children, her voice abruptly silenced by a club to her skull. Griska shrieked, the wailing of a trapped rat.

The hunters coordinated quickly. A judge on-hand declared Trasha guilty of witchcraft, evidenced by her demon spawn. Within minutes, they shackled her unconscious body to a tree, surrounding her feet with dry twigs and moss. As she awoke, she did not struggle, only begged her children to turn away. They would be given no choice. The twins were forced to watch as the torch was lit, and they watched as flames leapt up their mother's skirt, charring and sizzling her flesh. They watched as fat dripped from her body, and her face bubbled and twisted. They watched until the screams that tore her vocal cords were no more, and all that was left was the crackling of embers and a nauseating stench.

Whatever joy and goodness were in them died with their mother. Caged and transported to an old wooden temple, they were sold to a secretive group clad in dark cloaks. Griska reacted with the ferocity of a rabid beast at any who approached, clawing and biting. The only solace that could calm her was the embrace of her sister. Glima, bitter and hateful to all but her sister, found purpose in being her protector.

Within the temple, they were exposed to unusual experiments — some cruel, many simply baffling. One day they would be made to break the neck of a small grey bird. The next, they would bleed their fingers into a vase of roses. Every seventh day, they would sleep with the branch of a damp oak beneath their pillow. Then there was the chanting: a never-ending chorus from cloaked figures on scheduled intervals.

In time, a final experiment was planned. Two robed figures herded the twins to the centre of the temple, holding Glima upon an altar in a room lit with candelabras. The wrinkled face of a man peered from under his hood, placing a hand on the forehead of each twin, making careful examination of their skulls. Cin will ú- naeg an, he uttered, as he withdrew a shining blade.

Glima rolled to her side, shifting her sister off the altar. With a screech, she stretched his arm as far as he could, knocking a candelabra to the ground. The flames took to the dry wood immediately. They swept over the floor, igniting the black robes that brushed against it. Screams of agony pierced the chaos, invigorating Glima. She dashed through the inferno, vision concealed with nothing, but black smoke and blazing flame. A painful heaviness filled her lungs. No exit could be found, every step leading to overwhelming heat. She fell to her knees, suffocating, and then saw it — sunlight, trees. She stumbled from the fire into dewy grass. Without looking back, she ran into the forest until she collapsed.

When Glima opened her eyes, she reached for Griska's hand. She made no attempt to budge. Her body lie helplessly on the ground. She clasped her face, stared into her sad, still eyes. The movements she was accustomed to — her hand pulling at hers, his legs prodding at her when during a tantrum of being upset — were no more. Griska was dead.

Glima had no choice, but to continue moving as she mourned, fearing black cloaks and witch hunters were prowling. She concealed her sisters corpse under her clothing and marched for the sewers of a nearby city. There, she set up camp, emerging often to steal whatever food she could, resorting to raiding barns for pig slop when desperation set in. Throughout the years, Griskas corpse rotted as her limbs oozed and blackened, yet her body demonstrated resistance to complete decomposition.  Protecting her lifeless body became Charlotte's sole reason for being, refusing to ever be separated from the only family she had left.

Life into her teenage years was a game of survival. Adapting and understanding the common tongue she learned the skill of artifice. She started with baubles and trinkets that floated down to the sewers.   The years moved on and the day had come where her skills in smithery and artifice were honed well enough to procure proper employment.  

Glima was haunted at the choice she had to make. She KNEW she had to leave Griska in the sewers and start a new. Glima had to head for a town she knew hadn't seen her or know of her existence or lineage.  The Federation of Sutica . . .