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mpischasingstories · 6 years

Text

Repentance

Fandom: Critical Role

Rating: T, for violence and minor swearing

Word Count: 3,415

Author’s Notes: The backstory (or start of it) for a Paladin I’ve created for Matt’s word of Tal’Dorei. I lay no claim to Jorinn Village, or know if that’s how the Shadewatch works. But all characters are mine. Also, this was written for NaNoWriMo, so there may be some mistakes.

*~*~*

When a shadowy cloak whisked outside the window, Marta flinched. The Shadewatch. She held her breath as they stood there, the clinking of coins marking the seconds they stood there. Finally, the clinking stopped, and Marta watched the cloaks float away. Her chest collapsed in relief, and she continued making dinner. The money she had earned had been enough.

She looked at her father, collapsed at the table, a pile of drool gathering around his cheek. If only he could earn the money needed. He could, if he wasn’t a half orc. But he refused to work for the Shadewatch, and no one else would hire him because of his half-blood status.

Once the pot sat boiling on the hearth, Marta sat at the table herself, undressing and redressing her calloused knuckles. As she did, she kept an eye on the corner of the room, where a sword sat, collecting dust. As usual, nothing happened. Dust continued to swirl around it. She still didn’t trust it.

The door slammed open. “Marta! Marta! I need your help!”

Marta smiled at the ten year old that opened the door. Zephra, her younger sister. “What do you need?”

“Keyser has my mouse!” she pouted.

Marta sighed. She wasn’t in the mood for another fist fight. She had gone through five today just to earn the money for the shadewatch. “And Keyser won’t give it back?”

“No. He said that you have to beat him in a fight before he’ll give him back. He doesn’t believe that you can beat him.”

Marta sighed, looking at the stew. She looked back to her father, still asleep on the table. He would be fine, and the stew had a couple of hours to cook. She supposed it would be alright if she left for a moment. “Let’s go,”

Zephra took her by the hand and led her through twisted allyways until they reached the ring, just outside Jorenn Village. A ring made with black bricks from old ruins, this was where the kids came to fight. And standing in the center of the ring was the half elf bully, Keyser.

He gave a crooked smile, dangling a screeching mouse from its tail in front of him. “Oh, look how nice big sister is, coming to save the day. Doubt she can do it though. Brute strength cannot beat speed and dexterity.”

Marta could feel her upper lip curl up in disgust. “Whoever said that my skill was in brute strength? Or are you just pulling that from my bloodline?”

“Bloodline is everything. Why do you think we live here?” Keyser smirked. “However, I’ve been hearing that you’ve been earning quite a bit of money fighting. Enough so that you’re covering your drunk dad’s ass and can pay the shadewatch.”

He knew nothing of their situation. Obviously. “And what does that have to do with you?”

“I simply don’t like that someone with orcish heritage is doing so well. So, I’m going to put you in your place.” As Keyser said that, one of his friends walked up to him with a cage, and Keyser dropped the mouse inside it. “I’m going to make it so that you can’t fight for at least two weeks. Hopefully longer. I’d love to see you get in trouble with the Shadewatch, especially…”

Marta stepped into the ring, immediately getting into a fighting stance. “It won’t happen. And I will fight you to prove it.”

Keyser’s smile grew deeper. “Oh, you want….”

“Yes,” she replied, keeping her face straight. “That is completely irrelevant.”

He shrugged, walking forward. “Well, if that’s the case then…”

Marta saw through his first attack. Too easy. A couple of fake punches that led up to an uppercut. She leaned back, and used the inertia pulling her back to kick him backwards. He stumbled back a little, gritting his teeth. She walked up to him, staying in a defensive pose. He threw a few more punches, which, for the most part, were easily deflected, as she continued walking forwards.

Finally, he got a hit on her cheek. Her neck cracked as it whipped around, but she turned back, smiling. She raised her fist above his head, and he instinctually raided both arms up to block her.

Leaving his chest open, Marta punched him in the sternum.

Gasping, eyes opening wide, he stumbled and tripped over the ashen brick, falling out of the circle.

“If I used all brute strength, I wouldn’t have been able to trick you over the edge like that.” Marta snarled, kicking his feet over the ring before stepping out herself. A few of the younger kids, also having been bullied by Keyser, clapped, but were quickly silenced as Keyser’s group of friends glared at them. “The mouse?” she asked the friend with the cage calmly.

“You don’t get it. You didn’t win.” He said, shakily.

Marta sighed. “Oh my hell. Seriously? I won. And you know that.”

“Nope. Not getting it back.”

She glared at him before going to throw a punch. He whimpered, dropping the cage, and she reached out and grabbed it. “Next time, I will punch you.”

She ignored the kids, all huddled and whispering together. “Come on Zephra, let’s go.”

Zephra took a hold of Marta’s hand, and the group of kids started following them back in the village. One by one, they filtered into the streets of Jorin, until it was just Marta and Zephra in front of their humble door. “Zephra, you need to hold on to Kiwi better.” Marta sighed, handing the cage to Zephra. “I can’t be saving her from the bullies all the time. I need my strength for other things.”

“I know, but I can’t fight Keyser.” She pouted.

“But I bet you can outsmart him.” Marta replied. “He may have elven blood in him, but that doesn’t mean that he’s smart.”

Zephra giggled as she opened the door. “Dad! You’re awake!”

Marta peered in. Sure enough, he was awake, standing over the pot and stirring it. “Ah, you’re back,” he said, smiling.

Marta smiled back, and any anger in regards to him not being the provider melted away. “Hi dad,”

“I haven’t been out too long, have I?”

“Only a couple of days.” Marta replied, walking in. Zephra had already ran in and was clinging onto the massive man.

“Marta just rescued Kiwi!” she exclaimed, holding the cage up for their father to see.

“Rescued Kiwi? What kind of trouble did Kiwi get into?”

“Keyser took her.”

Father’s lower lip curled. “That bastard can’t keep his nose in his own business, can he?”

“Like father, like son.” Marta replied, taking over stirring.

“Is there any meat in it?”

Marta shook her head. “I haven’t had time to do any hunting. I’ve just been trying to earn money.”

Her father sighed, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her forehead. “I wish I could provide for this family the way you do.”

Marta smiled. “You help by gathering food.”

He nodded. “I got the hint.” He walked back to the table and picked up a crossbow sitting on a chair. “I’ll be back soon. I’ll just bring home a couple of rabbits.”

“Thanks dad,”

He smiled as he walked to the front door. “Of course. Try to keep your brother here if he comes home. It would be nice to have a family dinner for once.”

Marta’s face fell and she nodded. “Of course.”

“I know you don’t approve of his choices, nor do I. But we still need to let him know that we love him.”

She gave a deep breath and nodded. “Of course father.”

“I’ll be back,” And with that, he was gone.

She sighed, and over the next hour, she stirred the stew, making sure none of the precious food was burned against the pot. Zephra played with Kiwi on the table, the mouse scampering from clasping hands. Marta kept looking at the sword, but it continued to stay still.

Two months ago Coiffer had brought it home. Marta had wrapped her hand around it to move while cleaning, and, the sword… it talked to her. Told her to kill the mayor. Terrified, she had chased Zephra out of the home and the two of them had spent the afternoon out in the fields, not coming home until after dark. Since then, she had left the sword alone. Hoping that maybe, if she would ignore it, it would go away.

But, of course, that was a childish thought. The sword wouldn’t just disappear. But she was terrified to get rid of it herself.

After a moment, she tasted the stew. Not bad. Needed some herbs.

“I’ll be right back Zephra. Can you stir the stew?”

Zephra nodded her excitement and took the spoon from Marta. Marta then went to the window that opened to a narrow allyway and slipped out. Wood creaked under her large form as she slid out the window and onto a narrow platform. To her left, were stairs falling apart, and she traversed the familiar steps to reach the top of the floors, which led to a small rooftop garden.

This garden was Marta’s hidden gem and brightest joy. The back half of the roof was a flattened building, and she had spent most of her childhood building up her little garden of forest herbs. And now, with the Shadewatch taking so much of her hard earned money, her little hidden garden helped keep her family fed.

And thank goodness it was hidden too, or else she would be taxed for the garden. And possibly punished for hiding it.

But she always worried. There was one member of the Shadewatch that knew about it. And she wasn’t sure how long his loyalty would stay with her.

She gathered what herbs she wanted and started heading down the stairs when she heard the door open. She froze in place for a moment. It was too soon for her father to be home.

“Coiffer!” Zephra called out in glee.

Marta let out a breath. Just Coiffer. Hopefully.

She continued to walk down the stairs and peeked in the window. Coiffer looked and smiled at her. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“I don’t know. Depends on if you’re my brother or a shadow of my brother.” She replied, stepping back into her home. “So far, I’m guessing the shadow of my brother.”

His smile fell. “Now, really? Just because I’m still wearing my Shadewatch cloak?”

“No, because you haven’t been the same since you left for the Shadewatch. And obviously, they still don’t trust you. I’m still paying homages to them. And I’m the one paying for them. Not you.” She reached for a knife and started chopping up her herbs on the table. “And why is that? Why am I paying for the homages when you’re making at least 25 gold a day?”

He looked down. “I promise, I’m saving up for something good. Something important.”

Marta sighed, and continued to focus on her labor. “No one knows of the garden, right?”

“Of course not. I would never tell anyone of that.”

Marta chose to not vocalize her distrust in him. “Why did you come home tonight early? Usually you like to go out and drink with your new friends now.”

“I… I was hoping to take my sword to them.”

“Well, father was hoping that you would stay for dinner, so I suppose neither of you will get what you desire.”

“Oh, come on Marta….”

“Do you even realize what that sword is?” Marta spat. She looked at Zephra. “Zephra, up to the garden, now.”

“But….”

“Now,”

Zephra huffed, but scooped up Kiwi and trudged up the stairs.

Marta listened, waiting to hear Zephra’s steps disappear before she talked. “That sword, it talks.”

Coiffer’s eyes shifted. “Yeah, I know.”

“Then why the hell do you want it?!” Marta hissed. “I just picked it up to clean one day, and it told me to kill the mayor! It wants me to kill someone! The only other source of power that can somewhat keep your little perverted band in check!”

“Marta, the Shadewatch isn’t perverted…”

“Oh really? Why then does the Shadewatch possibly need to go to Gatshadow? What threat can possibly be down there that he Shadewatch needs to protect us from? Why in the world do we need to pay the Shadewatch 50 gold a week? Money half of the people in this town don’t even see in a month? You can’t possibly tell me that you are now thinking that the Shadewatch isn’t the evil organization you think it is?”

Coiffer shifted on his feet. “It’s not what you think it is…. Can I please just have the sword?”

“Is that all you care about now? Is showing off your talking sword to your asshole friends?”

“Come on Marta….”

“Don’t!” she screamed. “Don’t even try Coiffer!”

His lips snarled apart, and he pulled the mace from his belt under the midnight cloak of the Shadewatch. “Give it to me! Give it to me NOW!”

Herbs and knife long forgotten, Marta acted on instinct. She grabbed the sword. “THEN YOU’LL HAVE TO FIGHT IT FROM ME!”

Go ahead, kill him. I feel it. You have the strength to carry me. Help me bring justice to Tal’Dorei.

She flinched, which was her mistake.

Stars flew and the ringing was loud. She could feel the blood trickle down from her forhead, where Coiffer had hit her.

She stared at him, eyes watering over.

“What happened to you?” she whispered.

He stood there, shaking himself. “I don’t want to be this way with you,” he whispered back. “But I don’t’ know what other way to be.”

He raised his mace again, but this time she blocked it with the sword. “Coiffer, please stop!”

But he kept attacking, again and again. “I tried! Okay! I tried to help provide for the family! You always did it on your own! And I wanted to help! But I wasn’t like you! So I joined the Shadewatch so that I could be good! So that I could help! And you. Won’t. TAKE IT!”

Again and again, she parried his blows. But this couldn’t stay this way. She couldn’t fight him off forever. She wasn’t an expert in swords, but she had to try.

She tried thrusting forward. Missed, and he hit her on the side.

She went back to defending. Again and again, she parried off blows, but each time it left her weaker than the attack before.

She had to try one more time.

She yelled, pulling her arm back and then thrusting the sword forward.

It sank in. But not in Coiffer.

Coiffer had side stepped, and the sword sank into her fathers stomach.

Marta immediately let go of the sword, gasping. “Father!” she cried.

His eyes widened, and he collapsed. He didn’t move.

Coiffer looked at Marta. “What have you DONE?!” he screamed.

“I didn’t mean to! It’s your fault! You picked a fight with me!” Marta screamed back.

“You’ve given into your orcish blood, haven’t you?” he hissed.

“There’s hardly enough to give into! I was defending myself from you!”

“This is going to finish. Now. I’m grabbing the Shadewatch. I’m taking Zephra. You cannot be fit to take care of her if you killed our father.”

Marta did the only thing she could do. She curled her fist up and knocked him in the head. It was enough. He hit the table and slumped into unconsciousness.

Tenderly, she flipped him over, breath shaky. Had she just killed another member of her family?

His eyes were closed. No, she had not.

But she needed to leave. And she couldn’t leave Zephra in Coiffer’s hands. Zephra would never survive with the Shadewatch.

Carefully, she went over to her father, and took his crossbow and quiver, equipping it on herself before she covered the fire that was cooking the stew. Once the embers were gone, she climbed out the window and closed the curtain. Zephra didn’t need to see that.

“Zephra?” Marta whispered.

Zephra’s face poked out above the stairs. “Marta? What’s happening? Is father really dead?”

So she had heard it all. “It was an accident. I was defending myself from Coiffer.”

She hopped onto the stairs and quickly made her way down them. “Is Coiffer okay?”

Marta nodded, wiping away Zephra’s tears. “He’s fine. He’s just asleep for now.”

“Let’s go. I don’t want you getting in trouble with the Shadewatch. Is there anywhere we can run away to?”

Marta nodded. “We’ll have to be careful, but we can go to Westruun. That should be far enough away that the Shadewatch won’t look for me.”

“It’s not fair. You were trying to protect yourself, but because Coiffer is a member of the Shadewatch, you would have all the blame. Even though he attacked you. I saw that. I came back down because you were so loud.”

“When did you head back up?”

“When you first tried to attack back.”

Marta nodded, then looked up at the sky. Dusk was coming, it would be dark soon. “Let’s go. We can at least make it to some of the ruins a few miles out tonight.”

The two carefully picked their way to the edge of Jorenn Village, Zephra first going by the market to buy some bread with the little bit of gold that Marta had left, and silently made their way through the forest.

It was probably Midnight by the time they reached some old ruins and they felt safe enough to stop. The full moon gleamed through bare trees, and Marta was able to put together a pile of leaves for Zephra to fall asleep in.

Now that Zephra was nestles in leaves in a corner of a barely-there building, Marta gathered her own pile of leaved a few feet away and lit a small fire. She was far from tired from the day’s events. As she warmed her hands, she looked around her.

There, among the leaves she had gathered to keep her fire going, was a small glimmer of gold.

Curious, she dug through them and found a little idol. Gold flames covered the feet of a dark woman with wings, and a ruby was held between the wings.

There was a little voice in the back of her head. A voice not belonging to her, or to the sword that she left behind. It was a soft, kind voice. The voice of a knowing woman.

Find repentance and redemption through me. I will help you. I will be in Westruun.

“What… what is your name?” Marta whispered.

You will know me as Everlight. Now sleep, I promise no one will find you.

And as the night went on, Marta’s eyes grew heavy, and by the time her fire extinguished, she was asleep.

5 notes · View notes

tragicbooks · 7 years

Text

13 photos capture the stunning diversity of one very universal experience: dinner.

Dinner is much more than just what you eat.

<br>

In times when the world seems divided on just about everything, it's helpful to look at what we have in common — even something obvious.

That's what photographer Lois Bielefeld was aiming for with "Weeknight Dinners," a conceptual portrait series centered around typical evening meals, which she shot between 2013 and 2015. For Bielefeld, it was a way to document a near-universal experience that everyone can relate to. It's a display of common ground in one of its most basic senses.

Monday: Eric and Sally. 2013. All photos courtesy of Lois Bielefeld Photography.

The concept for the series emerged from Bielefeld's own interest in the social power of food.

Growing up, Bielefeld's chores included making a weekend meal, which was a family bonding event in and of itself. "I was less into the actual food until I got older and started regularly cooking and finding my own tastes," she says. "But even at a young age, I recognized food brings people together and is a way to explore different cultures."

For her, "Weeknight Dinners" is an extension of her own family's ritual, an exploration in other people's dinner habits.

Wednesday: Siena, Brian, Alivia and Leah. 2013.

Wednesday: Willie Mae. 2013

Wednesday: Emilio, Rhonda, Benedetto, Skylrae, Jacomo. 2014

Bielefeld chose to focus the series on weeknights for an important reason.

During the week, our rituals are shaped by the world around us. Work, school, and home — how we prepare for a meal between Monday and Thursday tends to differ from how we might dine on the weekends. For some, weeknight cooking might mean a plate of leftovers; for others, perhaps a microwave meal or carry-out. No matter what it is, no matter where you eat it, and no matter who you're with, it's simply a common part of most of our lives.

Wednesday: Glynis, Liam, Jorin, and Mona. 2013

Wednesday: Kathy. 2013

Wednesday: Natalia and Maryanne. 2014

The project also provides insight into how people actually are, as opposed to how they would like to be seen.

"My process is straightforward. I asked my subjects to prepare whatever they normally would for a weeknight dinner — nothing out of the ordinary," Bielefeld explains. "But I can’t control how people want to present themselves and occasionally I’d show up and there would be this elaborate meal with a Cornish game hen and fancy bowls with raspberries in it! But this to me is just as interesting and part of the series — how people want to be seen as opposed to their normal habits."

Monday: JoAlice. 2014

Monday: Nuco. 2014

Tuesday: Alden and Alan. 2014

As much as the project is about taking a look into the lives of others, Bielefeld hopes it inspires viewers to take a moment to consider their own place in the world.

The series is meant to be consumed as a series of large-scale prints where viewers can take time with each image and pore over the details in each room, gesture, meal, and subject. It's meant to inspire introspection.

"There is a strong sense of voyeurism and a subsequent self-identification that happens when looking at the photographs," she says. "I want people to see all of the similarities and differences that encompass our culture and hopefully be enriched by this. I also hope that they think about their own meal times and what is important to them."

Tuesday: Juanita and John. 2014

Tuesday: Seynabou, Rui James and Marie. 2014

Wednesday: Leo and Michael. 2014

For more photos from "Weeknight Dinners," visit Bielefeld's website.

<br>

Learn more about Bielefeld's work at her website and follow her on Instagram.

Lois Bielefeld is represented by Portrait Society Gallery.

0 notes

socialviralnews · 7 years

Text

13 photos capture the stunning diversity of one very universal experience: dinner.

Dinner is much more than just what you eat.

<br>

In times when the world seems divided on just about everything, it's helpful to look at what we have in common — even something obvious.

Monday: Eric and Sally. 2013. All photos courtesy of Lois Bielefeld Photography.

The concept for the series emerged from Bielefeld's own interest in the social power of food.

For her, "Weeknight Dinners" is an extension of her own family's ritual, an exploration in other people's dinner habits.

Wednesday: Siena, Brian, Alivia and Leah. 2013.

Wednesday: Willie Mae. 2013

Wednesday: Emilio, Rhonda, Benedetto, Skylrae, Jacomo. 2014

Bielefeld chose to focus the series on weeknights for an important reason.

Wednesday: Glynis, Liam, Jorin, and Mona. 2013

Wednesday: Kathy. 2013

Wednesday: Natalia and Maryanne. 2014

The project also provides insight into how people actually are, as opposed to how they would like to be seen.

Monday: JoAlice. 2014

Monday: Nuco. 2014

Tuesday: Alden and Alan. 2014

As much as the project is about taking a look into the lives of others, Bielefeld hopes it inspires viewers to take a moment to consider their own place in the world.

Tuesday: Juanita and John. 2014

Tuesday: Seynabou, Rui James and Marie. 2014

Wednesday: Leo and Michael. 2014

For more photos from "Weeknight Dinners," visit Bielefeld's website.

<br>

Learn more about Bielefeld's work at her website and follow her on Instagram.

Lois Bielefeld is represented by Portrait Society Gallery.

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0 notes