Storyboards: Xadira

Child of the Shattered Forest | Late night at Grebe's | Murgo Camouflage | My Subterfuge | In the pits

Child of the Shattered Forest
They say history repeats itself, and I've always found this to be true. It all began in Sendar, many years ago. As an infant, I was found in the park in a box. With me, was piece of parchment with a strange shattered leaf design painted on it. The people of Sendar allowed me to make a home in the park, and I grew thanks to their generosity. At 18, the wanderlust hit me. I traveled the world, discovering its many secrets, and honing my skills as a warrior. Still the one thing I sought seemed to always elude me. I always wanted to know where I came from, and who my family was.
Then I found it, the Dryad Forest. It seemed to be the answer to everything. My glory was short lived though. The Dryad's informed me that I did not come from their forest. It was then I discovered that I wasn't a full blooded Dryad.
I moved aimlessly throughout that part of the world for many years. I typically got drunk and performed odd jobs for the locals Usually at the same time. When I finally came out of the fog, I was back in Sendar.
I was in the market square when I bumped into the haggard looking Rivan. I had heard of his guild in passing. I'd always been the solitary sort, so such things never interested me. I'm surprised I never thought of it before. How better to find my secret, then by joining the ranks of those who dabble in enigmas?
Despite the vast wealth of knowledge held by my new brethren, my end goal is still beyond my reach. My newly-found resolve has not been diminished though. With the help of my comrades, I will find this, and many more astounding answers.

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Late night at Grebe's
For some strange reason, I took special care in getting ready that night. I even went so far as to gather certain berries from the park, and apply their contents strategically to my face. For once, I wore was most would consider clothing. The night before, when I mentioned my desire for Sendar clothing to Grebe the Bartender, he immediately closed his tavern and walked me to the temple. The clerics seemed overjoyed to give me some clothing from the donation rooms. They appeared obsessed with covering me for some reason. I've never understood the need for much clothing. You would think ever-practical Sendars would be smart enough not to cover themselves in yards of cloth when it's hot out.
We had decided to gather at Grebe's that night to celebrate the new members of our little family. It had been a long time since I'd actually socialized with a large group of people like that, so I was very nervous. When I entered the tavern, three large tables where already filled with my new comrades. At my entrance, Kessik motioned for Grebe to bring another pitcher of ale.
"Welcome Xadira, we were starting to wonder about you." said Hafwen slyly, making a little salute with her mug. I lowered my head, hiding my flushed cheeks from the wily vagabond.
"I'm sorry. I meant to be-" I started.
"You look lovely Xadira. Please have a seat." Kemeron broke in, motioning to a chair next to him.
We sat chatting for a while. I sat quietly for the most part, occasionally nodding and commenting perfunctorily. When the topic of conversation turned to me, I could no longer escape inquiry.
"Well Xadira, what are your plans now that you've come back to Sendar." Asked Kemeron benignly. I took a swig of my ale, and answered slowly.
"I-I'm not really sure, actually." I stammered," I guess if I'm to find my homeland, I should learn first what I really am. I always just assumed I was a full Dryad. Evidently, that is not the case."
"I could have told you that with one look." Said Xabeith knowledgeably, "You look far too... Exotic"
The rest of the night was spent most uncomfortably. I sat and listened as each of my party puzzled at my heredity. I didn't even notice as the vagrant walked in and sat himself at a table nearby.
"I think she looks like a Murgo meself." He quipped. He laughed uproariously and pounded his fist on the table. I couldn't think. All the blood rushed to my head, and I didn't even realize what I was doing until Hafwen had nimbly disarmed me.
"I'm very sorry. I don't know what got into me." I apologized softly. I expressed my regret again to the tramp, offering him another drink. I then made a pretext of being tired, and quickly left.

Later that night, I sat by the pond in the park, mulling over the events of the evening. I can't believe I almost hurt that poor man. I thought to myself. Hell, I could be half Murgo. Every other option is just as conceivable. I looked down at my reflection; black eyes stared into one another.

Early the next morning an urgent pounding was heard down the eastern end of the poor alley.
"Melancholy!" I bellowed at the door, "I need a map!"

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Murgo Camouflage
The ancient potion-brewer peered up from his work at Xadira, a shocked look on his face.
"Rak Cthol? No why would you want to go there?"
"I didn't ask you for input, Apothecary, I just need to know if you can do it or not." The fiery Dryad's eyes gleamed desperately.
"Alright girl, keep you're skirt on. Of course I can do it, but there are some drawbacks." He said, beginning to rummage through different dusty tomes.
"Side effects?"
"For the illusion to last that long we'll have to make it permanent." He stated matter-of-factly," I can uncurse you when you get back. However you might not ever want me to take it off of you."
"I take it your drug would effect my mind then too?" She surmised.
"Correct my sprite. It does take time, but eventually, the illusion that you're a Murgo will take over your mind." He finally found the required page entitled 'the Love of Torak. '
"How long are we talking here?" Xadira mumbled, visibly stricken by the name of the concoction.
"Three months, more if you have a strong will." He stared at the page, while his hand seemed to roam the several powders and mixtures almost absent-mindedly.
"Three months!? It takes more than a month to get there!" Xadira explained, terrified by the thought of being a Murgo for the rest of her life.
"Well you'll have to hurry then, won't you?" He stopped his work, something in the text catching his eye. "And before I can even finish you're going to have to bring me some Murgo's blood."
"Well that's the first bit of good news you've given me so far."

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My Subterfuge
Xadira gazed at her reflection in the clear park pond, its image betraying her. She figured she was attractive by Murgo standards. Her hair was black and luminous, but the scars almost covering her face were most unpleasant. She wrapped her dark cloak cloak around herself and mounted the Algar steed. Clutched tightly in her hand was the ring a young knight had given her long ago. An appropriate anchor for the soul, the Apothecary had called it.
She rode out through the south gates of Sendar towards the sinister pinnacle that was her destination. She had to avoid the main roads, thus most of her trip was spent alone. About halfway through the dessert she finally ran into some other Murgo travelers.
"A diplomat you say?" The gruff merchant said archly. He eyed her over approvingly, the licentious looks of a Murgo making made her skin crawl.
"The Grolims who sent me would not look highly on your current behaviour," she said through clenched teeth." However I'm sure they would be most pleased if you were to help me the rest of the way." She mentioned suggestively." I really can't be late with this report and this horse is on its last leg."

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Xadira began to wonder if her sense of homecoming was caused by the illusion's curse, or perhaps she had found what she'd always been searching for. Both ideas left a cold feeling in her chest. The so-called merchants delivered her right to the door of the ominous Grolim temple. Getting inside to see the appropriate people was a breeze. She had managed to beat a few names out of the Murgo who had also helped fuel her potion, and was sent straight to one of the heads of 'Murgo/Drasnian Relations. '
"My Lord!" She exclaimed almost before the office door was open, "Lord Khaever has agreed to sell us information. In return he requires one of our most exotic slaves."
The elderly Grolim looked up from his appears with a sinister grin on his face." That is most excellent news child. However, where is Chadash?"
"Lord Khaever was entranced by Chadash and our gold. He asked that both stay with him. Chadash wished that you receive his report and have me return with the package." She said, sliding a folded piece of parchment across the desk.
"Excelent work Miss..."
"Chadenna"
"Well Miss Chadenna. Run along to the pens, I want you on the road tonight."

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In the Pits
The smell was almost over whelming. Xadira had to pause for a moment in the tunnels to keep herself from gagging on the putrid air.
"Are you sure you don't want me to pick one out and bring it to ya?" The Murgo worker sneered at her." It seems to be too much for a little thing like you." At this point Xadira was convinced the Apothecary had made her the most beautiful Murgo women in all of history. Every Murgo male she had come across on her journey had given her the same shameless look. Even on the rare times she had ran into another woman, they had given her admiring looks as well.
So much for being surreptitious. She thought to herself. "Don't be insolent." The snap flew unbidden from her lips," I doubt you could even find a healthy one, much less one up to my standards."
"Listen here now, I know this pen like the back of my hand, and I know every slave that comes in and out of here." He boasted," Here, take a look at this one. She's a beauty." He led Xadira down a winding corridor and into a cul-de-sac of cells. "That one in the back behind the Arend." He pointed ceremoniously to a Nadrak woman humming to herself in the corner.
"A Nadrak? If I wanted a slutty dancer I'd go up north and buy one that doesn't smell like cow dung." Xadira replied imperiously, "I require something a little more exotic."
"Frankly that's the best we have right now." He retorted indifferently," We had one of them wood girls in here not long ago, but she caught the end of a Grolim's knife a week or so ago."
"A what?"
"A Drad... Drud? Oh I don't remember what the things are called. Wood women, with flaming red hair. A real pain to catch if you ask me. Not worth it at all." He motioned me toward a smaller cell back up the corridor." Had to put the crazy thing in her own cell. She managed to kill off five of the other slaves and a few of the workers before the master requested her."
"The master?"
"THE master. You know, the big guy upstairs. Favorite child of Torak?" The worker was obviously afraid to mention the disciple's name. “He's always had a penchant for wild ones." The worker shuddered at the thought. "Anyways, she clawed him real good not long ago, and he bent her right over an altar."
Xadira wasn't really listening to the Murgo anymore. Her attention was fixed on the cell before her. Blood, sludge and various other unmentionable substances were smeared across the walls. It looked as if a small child hadbeen charged with finger painting in this cell. Designs of trees and animals decorated the wall in an appalling manner. However what most caught the frightened Dryad's attention was the shattered leaf symbol smeared into the floor. The same symbol that was on the box she was once found it. The same symbol now tattooed to her wrists.

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