LAMENTATIONS OF THE CURSEDBORN - An Open Letter to the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska

[Proddy 2247]

 

Spoiler

 

 

[!] Across the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska, letters are dispatched by raven amongst the peers of the realm and their respective families, the royal family included. Similarily, the missive is stapled upon the various notice boards scattered around Valdev and other assorted Haenseni fiefdoms.

 

My name is Baalial Dralguna.

 

Many of you who read this letter won't know of me by the name I was granted at birth. You might know me better as The Flying Devil or Mister Emberweave, the trapeze performer of the reputable Emberweave Circus. Many of you might also have witnessed the accident during one of my performances some years ago where the top-rope was sabotaged and I found myself plummeting to what should have been, for all intents and purposes, my certain doom. I'm pleased to assure those readers of this missive who might still have been harboring concerns about my wellbeing that physically, I've made a full recovery from the injuries I sustained during the fall. But my heart aches with grief and sorrow at the recent Edict of Cleansing issued by King Ivan VIII and his Royal Duma wherein the extermination of all cursed children residing within the lands of the dual-kingdom has been mandated.

 

As I am sure you who are reading this can already deduce, I am a sufferer of this very affliction. I am a devil. My kind has been assigned many names throughout the history of our existence. Foulbloods, hellspawns, mutants and freaks - but also, quite primarily, cursed children. For that is how this affliction is spread - it is a curse, through and through. An Infernal Magi imprints a brand upon the flesh of a pregnant woman or a prospective father, condemning their offspring to the appearance of a monstrous fiend. No devil ever got a say in the circumstances of their birth. They are born as what they are, thrust into a world that more oft than not, fears and loathes them due to an affliction far beyond the periphery of their control.

 

For a devil, there is no easy lot. Amongst fellow drifters, strangers and outcasts, we might find an ally. Sometimes even a friend. But from the day we are born, from the day our minds can comprehend the complexities and nuances of existence, the first lesson we receive is that of preservation. Those fortunate enough to not be outcasted by our own kin are taught to defend ourselves in case the need must ever arise. We are taught to make our words count, for much of the world perceives us as cruel monsters before we might even open our mouths. We are taught to not attract too much attention, to speak only when we must and when it is necessary. We are taught to hide the parts of our body that we despise the most so that others shall not take offense. We are probed with questions as to our nature and our inclinations, as to whether we are servants of Iblees by pure virtue of the way we appear. I never mind answering these questions, for I understand why it is that many, especially those amongst the Canonist realm, despise us so. When they look at us, they see in us the great other - the great enemy come to reap blood and fire upon them on behalf of the wicked betrayer. We represent what a godly man fears, and that is a reality that I do not believe shall ever truly change.

 

For my forty decades of life, I've never tried to speak out against this order of thought. Instead, I've tried to live within my means - and do good where I can. I am no pious hermit by any measure. But I have tried to help those who need it where and when I can. I've tried to define who I am not by words but action so that others might look upon my kind and see that we are not all beasts, but descendants who bear a curse that was never one of our own making or desire. I am no canonist, but I have always endeavored to respect and understand those of such faith, and abide by their law when within their land. But I cannot sit idly by whilst the massacre of my people is called into action.

 

To continue on this letter, I would like to tell a story. A tale about your late Queen Amaya, a woman I've admired since our meeting whose passing pained me more than a thousand cuts. 

 

When I was a young boy, a group of Canonist priests abducted me off of the streets of Valdev. They claimed that I, a child of scarcely seven years old, was a demon that had come to destroy them all. They dragged me off to a cell in the barracks of the Brotherhood of Saint Karl, unhearing of my pleas and cries for mercy. I understood right then and there, for the first time in my life, just how different I was from everyone else. I remember sitting in that cell as vividly as if it were yesterday. I remember weeping until my eyes burnt as I curled against the stone walls, powerless and at the mercy of men who I knew full well would not hesitate to kill me. But it was the late queen who saved me - she ordered for my release the moment she'd heard the news of my capture. She traveled down to the cells herself to calm me and assure me that everything would be well once I stepped outside - she didn't do this out of some self-gain or to preserve some image of purity. She did it out of the unbridled goodness that was within her heart. I doubt this world shall ever see her like again. Her passing was not only a loss for the Haenseni people but a loss felt within the souls and minds of those who champion mercy and compassion, everywhere in the world.

 

For hours after, she sat with me. We talked, we laughed, we drank hot cocoa together by the warmth of a tavern fire. I felt in that moment that everything truly was going to be okay. We travelled to the Basilica together where we prayed at the altar in unison, and before long I was home again with my mother.

 

It's the actions of the late queen from the day thirty years ago that have, in part, inspired me to write this letter. She told me that my curse does not define who I am - that I still have a choice in spite of what others believe that I must be. Those words have stuck with me throughout the years. They've remained a constant companion at my side, a source of hope and wisdom that I can remember when all else seems lost. Just the other night I had a dream. I dreamt of cursed children holding hands and playing with normal children, free from discrimination and the threat of persecution. I dreamt that they were allowed to be children, their innocence not stripped from them prematurely as in the case for so many of my kind.

 

Thus, I write this letter in address to King Ivan and his Royal Duma specifically. I come to you not as an adversary or a foe, but one who hopes that one day we might be friends. I plead with you that the section of the Edict of Cleansing pertaining to the extermination of cursed children be constitutionally repealed. To those of my kin who have become wayward and would bashfully disrespect the law of your kingdom, I say let the full extent of justice be rendered upon them. But I only ask that you take into consideration that for almost all of us, our demonic appearance was not an affliction we willfully chose. It is an affliction thrust upon us unconsciously, by forces both wicked and malevolent. For many of us, if were we given the choice to appear as you, we would take it in a heartbeat. But such is not reality, for as much as we wish it so.

 

Yours in faith,

 

Baalial Dralguna

 

Spoiler

This letter is an RP response to the following thread below. Anyone is welcome to comment from in-character perspectives as the letter would be readily available to read.

 

 

 

 

[SteppeNomad 1552]

"Do not trust the impure. Do not heed the words of mutants or blasphemers for theirs are naught but foul vapors. Cut out the tongue and be cleansed"

 

Father Adeptus #003 rings the bell any time someone dares read the words of the impure

[mothsthetic 420]

From his desk in the palace, Wilford Reinhold recalls the event as if it were yesterday. Screams and cries for the boy to be executed, he remembers running to block the soldier. He remembers yelling in return, pleading the crowd to have mercy on the boy. He remembers the sword through the chest that earned him, and how it nearly ended his life. With his face in his hands, the Lord Regent sighs, trying to shake the memory from his mind. Trying to shake the thought of the late Queen, his late friend, from his mind. He simply folds the letter, at least pleased to hear the boy he nearly died for remains alive and well.

[TheBigBubbles 699]

Baalial's mother,  an equally accursed soul crumples the missive in question in her fist, "No..." - "This kingdom was my home. My origin... That man's family were like my own. I still remember my days by Georg's side fondly, and my days by his father's side even greater so." The fiend shakily grasps for her own pen and paper to write and once finished, she sought out her son, "To expell my kin is a bridge too far." - "Genocide, the same as I faced in my youth. Not again"

[Turbo_Dog 1442]

A small grey dubious Daal read on as he gnashed his teeth on a mouthful of roaches he caught “Hmm yes yes, must plan plan great unite plan of evil devil man things. Ur urm NYAG YAR YAR GAHH!” He gave into a fit of manic laughter as he nearly fell over “START NOW NOW!”

[ContestedSnow 782]

"A horned devil invokes the name of Amaya, slain by horned devils she had trusted. She may have been a fool to trust them, but to continue to allow them to prey upon the rest of Haense using her martyrdom as an excuse? Utter nonsense. If ea learn that any of vy fall for this, ea should be rather disappointed." The Duke of Vidaus drawled in explanation to his grandchildren, after a scribe had happened to bring the pleaing letter back to Morteskvan. A few violent coughs wracked the man afterwards, a vicious scowl upon his brow.

 

Spoiler

@Mady @Crusteh @Terry @libertyybelle @SethWolf @MunaZaldrizoti

 

[MunaZaldrizoti 5766]

8 minutes ago, ContestedSnow said:

"A horned devil invokes the name of Amaya, slain by horned devils she had trusted. She may have been a fool to trust them, but to continue to allow them to prey upon the rest of Haense using her martyrdom as an excuse? Utter nonsense. If ea learn that any of vy fall for this, ea should be rather disappointed." The Duke of Vidaus drawled in explanation to his grandchildren, after a scribe had happened to bring the pleaing letter back to Morteskvan. A few violent coughs wracked the man afterwards, a vicious scowl upon his brow.

 

  Reveal hidden contents

@Mady @Crusteh @Terry @libertyybelle @SethWolf @MunaZaldrizoti

 

 

Milena vas Ruthern, having become deeply religious in those past few months, nodded firmly at her grandsire's words. These creatures were irredeemable, she thought, especially when so many of purer soul were far more bereft and in need of their sympathy. Alas, most would think her mad for saying so.

[Borin 5263]

"KILL THEM ALL" screeches Brother Ninnias

[satinkira 5973]

In some lonely clearing, Yandel read - grunted with amusement - and wrote a letter to the Accursed Child.

 

They think you unholy, through no fault of your own. In accordance with the laws they have set, Baalial, you will perish at the edge of the ignorant blade; it is as I once told you, years and years ago, that man has confused faith with truth, zealotry with tradition, and forgotten the simple fact: that it is far more righteous to be struck by the wicked than it is to strike the unlucky, or the ill-born.

This plea will fall on angered ears, and they will hunt you, and you will never cut through the fog of their idiocy. Why tolerate the intolerant? Come away from them, Baalial. You owe them nothing.

 

@Proddy

[ReveredOwl 5352]

"Trusting them has only resulted in death, burn them all." remarked Bishop Rhys.

Edited April 8 by ReveredOwl

[ibleesian 77]

And thus it was so, that one devil ruined all the good will the world had for their kind, and brought genocide to her kin's doorstep.

[Bogatyr 73]

"All of us alive and lifeless are from one," With tender dotage, Adolpha chewed over the contents of the missive. Her disposition to love had engendered her to see in all the divine graces where no man is suffered to want or toil but is ancient, unmutable, and unchanging, and in this letter was no different. The wash of piteous sympathy, borne on wings of religious self-surrender, salted her face and pickled her expression. "We know, from Saint Jude, a lifetime of beatings and kicks is as nothing to a mere moment with God. In a land where darkness has long presided over man and beast alike, hatred has rusted the tongue of every arrogant five-copeck tyrant, priest, and kindly woman. Has the heart forgotten its capacity to love? The layman to cultivate himself in kindness? For that is to cultivate yourself in God, for God is Love and Charity itself in that he permits us to live even in spite of our own evil, born or acquired."

[TheGentleDuck 10]

Wrotek read the missive with a frown. "He appeals to wolves. They are too blinded by faith and zeal to see anything else. Now he has put a target on himself." He muttered with discontent before walking away from the notice board. "I must find them before anyone gets any bright ideas."

[Laeonathan 4001]

"Just come home at last, oh line of Kraal," Lamented an elf...