This is the IC blog of Jaimari. Everything posted here is journal entries. Follows will come from @draikaina
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Long Time, No See (OOC)
For those who still follow me, this is most likely the first post since March. And I see a whole lot of unanswered asks that I’m going to have to do some searching to find the post they came from so I know what to answer. :’)
Anywho, I wanted to just take a moment and let you all know that I am back-ish. Life is still in the way, so my prominence is still going to be kind of low, but I’m going to work on easing my way back into RP. I logged on Khu last night to spend some time with STC and my friends.
So, on the OOC level, what has happened in the last 6-7 months? Well, I’m working on getting my health back in order. My main reason for leaving when I did was because my autoimmune disease was wreaking havoc on my body, and I couldn’t warrant spending money on gaming subscriptions (cause 2 WoW accounts and 1 SWTOR account) when I had no money for my medications.
Since that time, it’s also been family emergency after family emergency, crisis after crisis. But hey, I’m still around and kicking, right? And life is still hectic and will be for some time.
So, it’s going to be a slow process getting back into RP. Really the only RP I had away from the games came from giving Dinomancer lessons via Discord. So I also have to put a lot of thought into what each of my characters is like now with all this time and things that have changed (which means, yes, I have to get caught up in anything that has happened in game, in lore, and in guild as well). So while I’m figuring this out, I will also be figuring out a RP schedule. Like I said, life is still hectic, so pretty much all of my RP will be scheduled until further notice.
But if you read through all of this till the end, thank you, and thank you for still following me after my disappearance. Here is to many days of RP in the future!
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Mother,
    I write this standing on the edges of Zul’Drak. Standing on the edge of possibly changing my life forever. If memory has not failed me, this staircase will lead to a path that runs right by Har’koa’s temple. I should go and pledge an offering, but I am no huntress and have no idea what I could give or pledge in return of her guidance. But I hope that she will bless me with something that will help me in my quest.
    The biggest blessing I could ask for is to not be turned away if I find my family. For them to believe that I really am one of them. That I can be part of two families at the same time. I hope they see my mother’s eyes in me like you said I have. I hope they listen. But I cannot but expect them to turn me away. After all this time, why should they believe the tuskling they buried was not me?
    Yes, I will make my first stop Har’koa’s temple. Perhaps there I will learn more of myself and my family, but at the very least, learn who I am.
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Mother,
   It has been a few days since my last entries, days I have spent collecting the items I feel necessary for this trip to Zul’Drak. Hopefully I have gotten the things I need.
    I even went and collected a couple of pouches of the berries you and I have always loved. I think they will keep for a couple of weeks as I search for clues. But I also have jerky to keep me going for a while. Some other foods I have found that should survive the trip.
    Gonna carry my daggers you gifted me. Hopefully I never need them with the little skill I have, but they are good in a pinch. Also have a small coin purse filled with rocks to carry on my hip like you told me, to keep my real coins well hidden. I doubt I will use it in Zul’Drak but it may ease my way into a passage elsewhere if that is where the clue lead.
    But I can put this off no longer. I leave for Zul’Drak now. With Har’koa’s grace, I’ll be there in a couple of nights. From there, only the Loa know where my path will go.
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This page seems to have poetry or lyrics written upon it. Perhaps this is the lullaby previously mentioned.
The sky is dark and the hills are white
As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night;
And this is the song the storm-king sings,
As over the world his cloak he flings:
“Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;”
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:
“Sleep, little one, sleep.”
On yonder mountain-side a vine
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;
The tree bends over the trembling thing,
And only the vine can hear her sing:
“Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
What shall you fear when I am here?
Sleep, little one, sleep.”
The king may sing in his bitter flight,
The pine may croon to the vine to-night,
But the little snowflake at my breast
Likes the song which I sing best,
“Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
Weary you are, next to my heart;
Sleep, little one, sleep.”
((OOC credits: https://tinyurl.com/NorseLullaby with some changes to the language as needed.))
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There would be spots were tears had hit the parchment, not quite smearing any words out.
Mother,
    What a difference we had in the experience of burying our parents. Yours went out with cheers and burning passions. All I was able to give you was… me.
    You rest atop that hill we used to sit on to watch the sunrise some mornings. I think now on the lessons you taught me then - my herbs the primary of these lessons. But there was another lesson that was more subtle than what was led on. That even in bleakest areas of our life, beauty can be found.
    I took a bit of leather from that old worn out cloak of mine you were always telling me to replace and with it formed a satchel to carry the doll in. She now rests in it, carried on my hip right behind the sheath that carries my dirk on the left side.
    You said to sing the lullaby if I find the tears upon my eyes. I have been, ever since I laid the final stone on top of your grave. I dare not hope that I will find myself worthy of a child in the eyes of the Drakkari men. And I fear losing the lullaby I cling to so dearly as I fear it means I will lose your memory.
    Wait for me in the great mead hall, Mother. I know not how long it will take me to get there, but I know I will see you there when I arrive.
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*The wax seal has been broken, and this letter now resides between the pages of the last entry and the next entry written.*
-As Jaimari found it.-
*Resting in ink on the front of a folded up piece of paper, sealed with wax, are the words “For when I am buried”*
       A burial place is always so destructive to the soul. Not so much to the one who has passed, but to the one who sends their loved one's off. I remember burying my own family when I was a little girl. Both my mother and father passed before I could truly enjoy life with them. I was ten seasons when they died together.
      I still remember my uncle and his men roaring out honors for my father, cheering him on as if he had climbed a war ship. The hoowah sounded throughout my very bones that day as flames licked upon their bodies, consuming up from the small canoe crafted for them both so they may climb aboard the Loa's ship and ride off unto the Hunting Grounds.
      I held tightly to a small doll that day, a simple doll... one my mother had hand crafted for me days before her and my father left for their last hunt. Little black beads for eyes, bone armor, and white tassel for hair.. I still have that doll to this day.
       Well, not me so much with me as it is near me. When you turned three, I gave that very same doll to you. It holds my mother's love, and now it holds my love for you. Keep it with you always, and I will be but a whisper away, but this chapter is coming to a close little leopard. Zul'drak calls your name now.
       Don't forget to write.. but if you find tears swelling upon the day you have lost me, think of the lullaby I sung to you every night, and sing it for me upon my trip to that great ship. Sing little Leopard, and I will join you within the breath of the wind.
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*There are dark spots where tears have fallen on this page, smudging some of the neat writing.*
Mother,
   I buried you today. Gave you the burial rites as you taught me. And it was the worst day of my life. Drakkari are supposed to be strong and determined. Yet, I felt myself break down. I felt myself getting weaker. I might as well have been a Winterfang.
   The words I said to you before, the letter I wrote you before… It was all in anger and hurt. I still do not believe that this family will accept me. Why should they? But I know now it does not matter who birthed you. It does not matter what my line is. The woman who raised me to be the woman I am turning into… She will always be my mother, and she did not raise me to fail. But if this other family accepts me, then I am just receiving a blessing from Har’koa.
   Forgive me, Mother. Forgive me for being weak and wanting to just give up. You did not raise a child in the way of cowards. And yet, I was one. I was… not a Drakkari. Something less. Even for one of us that has not lived in the city all these years, outcasts as we are, I was something less than the snows on the ground.
   Jaimari as we knew her did die. But we both know a different Jaimari now. One that has outgrown her old fur and has a chance to find a life outside this small hut we have repaired together over and over in the years. While I know nothing else beyond this, it would be the traditional Drakkari way to meet this challenge head on. And so, I will.
   I may not continue my story for a few days, Mother. I must gather things and make plans. Trade for items I may need. I think the first part of my path will take me into the city. None know me there, so perhaps I can traverse it with little consequence. If my birth family was noble, then they must live close to the temples. Or maybe I can find clues there, even these years after the destruction of the Drakkari empire.
   For now, the story takes its pause as I plan. But my first steps will be towards the city. And from there, we will see what Har’koa lets me find.
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*The handwriting is a neat but small scrawl, showing many years of practice.*
Woman,
A letter should have a name addressed on it, but… I no longer know what to call you. I no longer know what to even call myself.
Part of me understands your reasoning, so I cannot find fault with you and your choices. But for you to think this family would accept me now? That they would accept me after all of this time? You say they are a noble family, and they buried me. Not just a body they buried, but they buried a memory they never even had a chance to enjoy.
Yet you say I have my mother’s eyes. Since when have eyes ever proven a lineage? You never taught me birthing as there was never any child born out here in the wilderness you hid us in, but you taught me the details of recording that we must endure to show a lineage - details that have no doubt never seen the light of day regarding my own birth. There is nothing to prove I am who you say I am.
Maybe that is for the best. If no one knows my name or my line, if no one knows where I came from, perhaps I can find peace in the snows of Zul’Drak. Perhaps I can fade away like a ghost in this place. Har’koa knows, there’s been more than enough death here. I would just be one of the many.
I know your intentions for this letter is not for me to hide away until I die. I… I have much to think about. But today, I must prepare for your rite of burial. Then I will plan mine. For it does not matter that my body physically walks any more.
Jaimari as we both knew her has died today.
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*Folded up inside the book is a letter that appears to have been opened and refolded many times.*
My Darling Jaimari,
      I write this while you are out as I worry that this fever shall claim my mind and recude my ability sooner than I had expected. I've taken to writing to you like I did when you were a child, and for the reason of this is that I have one last story of Nalak to give you.
      Now, be aware that this is a little different, as the story here begins with a girl.. a woman actually, many years past the age to mate.. She was never wanted by any male for she had no strength to give, she was a mid wife, a wondering one at that. Helping others from all over. She was a commoner whom fell in love with the wise warrior Nalak we've enjoyed stories of. Back then, he was a simple guardsman, and much much younger than she. She admired him for his kindness, and he admired her due to his love for her... they were later mated.
      They lived together for the better part of a year, where she grew full of belly with his heir. She never showed signs of this pregnancy however, not physically. But the loa looked down upon her and gave her a still born child.. Nalak returned home to see his first born son was not joining them in the world of the living.. other trolls then began to shun her, but Nalak refused to do so.
      He went that night to a Noble Drakkari, a great warrior named Zazuni, and requested to join him within his warband. Zazuni agreed and brought him in as a claimed brother and as a brother at arms. This was not the extent of the woman's bad luck however, as within a month of the child's death, Zazuni's Warband was trapped within the ahn'qiraj's many tunnels... Nalak fell that day, along with all others of the band..
      Yes my child, this is Nalak's ending.. his death.. but this is not the end as you may see it, as it was just the beginning... Even the noble would've died that day if it wasn't for the lone huntress that ran ahead of the pack and saved his life, her name was Naraani... and Naraani and Zazuni gained the Gron Naal Sos Sizaan.. (Bond by blood lost)...
      When he returned he was wounded heavily, and very much in love with the Drakkari girl.. He came to the Mid Wife, knowing she and Nalak had a special bond and how Nalak would not wish for his wife to be put into the slums of the city. He offered her a home and a chance to always have a profession, to become his Hut Wife and help him and any mate he had give birth to children and raise them. She agreed. She was sad, but proud when Zazuni took the Lone Huntress into his furs and she aided with his first born child. A child, an heir, a babe that would hold his name and lead the family after he... a child.. born female. Her name was Zaziria. Her eyes were as blue as the ocean but with light streaks throughout like a bolt of lightning danced across the water's surface, and her fur was wavy and soft.
      Within the next few months after, Zazuni took Naraani to his furs once more and gave yer yet another babe. However his extent of his fertility. Months later, he grew drunk off another's victory in battle and mistook a winterfang girl for his mate and took what he thought had belonged to him. Naraani was stricken with shock when she found her mate brought home another woman she gave birth two months earlier than she was suppose to.
      This child was yet another female, and her small statue and weak body made all think she would die within the first month. The Drakkari woman, Naraa, worked to keep the baby alive as much as she could and the child survived with both one blue eye and one velvet, because of this her name was Daran'ji. Two Soul... and yet again her hands were put to work for the winterfang after this. She helped with again a girl, Khjorza... and the winterfang was nearly sent away had she not promised to give a male next birthing..
      For that reason alone, Zazuni kept her.. but he was wary of this.. he knew of one female that gave birth to a son, even if that son was claimed by the death god. He came to the Hut Wife when she was alone the next day and gave her a child... one she denied actually conceiving in her fear, but over all things she already cherished and loved this child. The one thing she wanted most was being hand gifted to her by the Loa themselves, they had answered her prayers and given her a good man’s child. She bore this child to term, but just short of it she found sorrow. In pain, she birthed a white furred child that was soon taken from the world of living, within mere hours of being born. Grief wrapped around her now, as now and worse yet, she was forced to help Naraani with the third of the woman's lovely children…
       Naraani grew sick in the days before her pregnancy, her body having weakened from the constant birthing of young, and yet still she birthed a healthy, strong, white furred child… but the Loa seemed to spite this woman too, as the child did not cry nor breath in any air, but lay limp in the Hut Wife’s arms. She looked to the two older sisters, hope in their eyes as they watched her and she took the bloodied child away into the other room to clean. As she did so, she saw the body of her own young, and in anger she cursed the Loa and began to work quickly to revive that child, and revive the babe she did.
       The young girl gasped for breath and the Hut Wife was the first to meet the girl’s brightly shining eyes, eyes full of life, full of love. Her heart sank when she heard Naraani call out her name, begging to see the child. What would she do? What could she do? She spited Naraani, she had so many children, so much good to be had, and the Mid Wife had nothing.. she wrapped the child in new cloths and hid her within a basket, then taking her own young, she wrapped the bloody rags around the babe she had seen die after being birthed from her.
      Naraani’s tears stung her heart, and at first, she felt bad for her doings, until she left her people of her own free will, knowing she’d be cast out… and she did so, with the living babe wrapped in cloths, hiding within a basket.
      That child my dear Jaimari, is you. You are not my child, but you have always felt like mine. I know you now feel betrayed, like your entire life was a lie. but I assure you it is not. You were raised to read, raised to write, taught herbs better than any herbalist I ever knew, and even more still you have a cautious but warm heart. You have your mother’s eyes. Her gorgeous and wonderful eyes.
      The reason for breaking this fairytale of a life you have lived thus far is because, I will soon leave you on your own, and I cannot bare to do so without you knowing this:
Your sisters and mother, yet live.
      My dying wish for you, Jaimari is to seek out your lineage, I know they will accept you now just as they would have then.
       I… know it is selfish to ask after telling you this but, please my dear.. do not forget me.. write to me my beloved, write to me the story of your life. I won’t be able to answer from this point on, but I will always be with you, if you’d only give me the story you make yourself. No more of Nalak my love, this story… is yours.
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