An Escape, At Last

[tea with Gwyn 218]

 

Up until this point, the being that had named herself Ataraxia, after a term meaning 'a state of serene calmness', hadn't the desire to die.

In truth, she hadn't the desire for anything. Such was the state of being that was ataraxy. Blank was her emotional slate. Empty was her heart.

Unable to want for anything, and unable to truly connect to any being other than those of the coven that had forcefully taken her, Ataraxia did as most would.

She kept going, kept living an empty life, seeking out something, anything, that could spark a flame inside her. She found this spark in her final hours.

 

She didn't know what she'd expected by walking undisguised into Caras Eldar. They knew what she was: a creation of the Fjarriauga. Yet she did not eat men, did not attack anyone. So when the obvious occurred and the townsfolk of Caras Eldar, particularly Artimec of Caerme'onn, blew his horn and drew out the city's defenders, and Ataraxia stood atop the fountain in the square, a fight broke out.

 

Druids versus ice. Life against death. The battle quickly became one-sided; Ataraxia fell into the defensive and stayed there, holding her icy shell against the onslaught from without. It wasn't long before her defenses were broken and she was cast to the ground.

 

"Mercy!" she cried, feeling something. It was dread. Terror. Fear for her life. "Please have mercy."

 

She was granted none. From behind, Artimec charged, jamming his sword into her back and piercing the icy defenses she'd put up around her heart. From the front, an onlooker heroically kicked her onto Artimec's blade, sending the tip in to puncture her core and crack it. She began to fall apart then, and in a fit of spiteful, indignant fury, shattered and forcefully exploded the remains of her icy shell. The shards of her acursed heart fell to the ground, and were crushed by a blessed mace.

 

The dust that had been Ataraxia scattered in the wind, sealing the fate of the first, last, only Ivojur. Once the proud, strong, compassionate Jeska, the Ivojur Ataraxia was at last granted an escape.

[Dumbrarere 85]

"May GOD watch over the tormented soul of this poor woman." Auralia said with a sigh, signing the lorraine as she did so.

[Zacho 2177]

"Death to the dark" says a passing sage who caught word of it along the way, only to forget it the next moment

[Vaynth 3005]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.