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My name is Hallan Turrek. This is my blog.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

A Mountain Exists

Cold winds on the moors blow.
Warm the enemy's fires glow.
Like the harvest of Culloden,
Pain and fear and death grow.
Deanta - Culloden's Harvest

The wind was cold.

I find the wind to be a comfort at times. There is something in knowing that something so immaterial is stronger than you. Stronger than anyone.

Stronger than me.

I stood with the wind at my face, I hunched over into the cold and hiked further up the mountain. I could already see the lights from the house. The snow was coming down hard now, I didn't have much time. I almost missed the tripwire at my feet. I wasn't particularly happy with myself for almost triggering a trap, but I stepped over it and kept hiking. The man I searched for was a few minutes away, just a little bit more. Just a little bit more time, that was all she'd needed. All I'd wanted.

She wasn't mine. Dolivia Hurst belonged to an Amarr master. She was resigned to her fate from birth. She was to service her master in any way he wished. She wouldn't talk about the things he made her do, and I learned not to ask. A week after liberating her from her master's compound out in Eifer, I took her to Ivar. The Brutors promised me they'd take care of her. She was so bright and so happy. I went back to Evati and was happy with myself for doing a bit of good. I was out for another week before Alfroren Karsteinn, a good friend of mine in the Brutor Tribe let me have the news.

Vitoc.

Vitoc is among the horrible methods the Amarr use to control their slaves. Without an antidote, they die slowly and painfully. I... I didn't know. Dolivia, a bright, beautiful, and wonderful friend, was already dying when I left her in Ivar.

I had to make it right.

I knocked three times on the door. There was a rustling in the cabin and it opened. There stood, almost defiantly, an Amarr slavemaster.

"I've been expecting you," He said softly.

"You probably should've been running then," I said, putting my hand on the pistol at my hip.

"Look, my family is upstairs. You won't kill me here. Just walk away," He began to close the door.

I put my hand on the door and forced it open, pulling my gun from it's holster.

The wind was cold.

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