Fina's Journal - Common - Part I

First Entry - Leaving Andales

I’ve been traveling for a few days now, and I need something to do for my sanity; I’ve never been alone before, it turns out. I mean, I’ve been alone, but never alone. There’s always been the sounds of Andales, or of the Teacher’s hideout. But on the road, I can go days at a time without seeing a living soul, and it’s… my brain dwells where it shouldn’t, so hopefully getting my thoughts down on parchment will get them out of my head.   After… what happened, I spent a couple of days laying low, taking stock of my options. But, something in the back of my head said it wasn’t safe, that I should use the opportunity to run. So, I took what meager possessions I had stashed away, stole an extra day’s rations, and ran. Truth be told, I didn’t even know what direction I was going until I got to Toraga to “secure” more food (I’m going to have to ration this out, though). Now that I have my bearings, I think I’m going to stick to the roads, head for Greza or Aragos… probably Aragos, somewhere distant, but still large enough to blend in. I’ll figure the rest out when I’m there.  

First Entry + 2 Days - Attack

Last night, I was sleeping in the brush alongside a road, when some kind of monster attacked me. I panicked, and I tried to get it away from me… and the “gift” responded. Something dark ripped out of the ground and attacked the beast, pushed it back, drove it away. I did that. I think. The Teacher would be thrilled that I manifested a new talent.   ...I wish he was here.  

First Entry + 4 Days Later - Context

It occurred to me today that I can’t really write shit like that without giving some kind of background. In case I end up dead and someone thinks an idiot girl’s journal is worth reading.   My earliest memories are of growing up in an orphanage in Andales. I didn’t know why I was there, if I had family… typical orphan stuff. When I came of age, though… I ran. I was being assigned to a boarding school in Anasonas; there was a rumor that that’s where the wash-outs without any value were sent, just to train them for mean labor. I was rebellious and stupid, and I ran instead. I lived on the streets for the next… six or seven years, getting by with stealing and begging. (Mostly stealing.) I managed to get most of a meal a day, I picked up some of the outsider language, made a couple of connections on the criminal side, did odd jobs. I did okay. Until I got greedy and made a mistake.   It was an obvious setup, too much food in one place at one time, but I was hungry, and went for it. There was pain, and the next thing I knew, I was in a cell with a bunch of others. All from the street, or at least, low enough to not be missed. One by one, we disappeared, and new blood was added. Then it was my turn. It was my first time seeing the Teacher, and he… worked on me. Some kind of magic, some kind of surgery. I fainted from the pain.   And when I came to, the Teacher was there, nursing me to health. I wasn’t expected to survive, which meant his experiment was a success. He made me a deal: he would provide shelter and resources and training, and I’d help him with his research. I agreed. And that’s when he became the Teacher to me.   It’s late, and I need to keep my strength up. I’ll probably reach Aragos tomorrow. I’ll write more another night, when I need something to do.  

First Entry + 5 Days - Hunted

Fucking hells, I think someone’s following me. I don’t know for sure, but I think I saw the same person three times today, shadowing me. I don’t recall seeing them around the hideout, either… maybe I’m just on edge. But if I’m not… I haven’t heard from the Teacher at all. I don’t know, and just dismissing something like this means I could end up dead.   I took a walk around the block to think it through, I didn’t see them again, but still: I need to leave Jejun. Anyone following me will hesitate and maybe even stop at the border, since they won’t be able to get back into the country. The smart plan is to head north to the coast and find a ship. Which means that’s what I shouldn’t do. I’ll head north, dip into the forest, and circle back around to the roads heading west. Hopefully that’ll fool my tail so that, if they do leave, they’ll end up losing my trail completely.   Zaphaqui'rem help me.  

One Week on the Road - Border Crossing

Just like I’d heard, the border is imposing and tight--but only one way. I was searched, and… I used my gift on the soldier, made him more agreeable (not like I had any contraband anyway, apart from maybe this book), and they let me through. They say once you leave, you can never return, and the way that checkpoint is run, I can believe it.   But… I’m out. It’s my first time outside of Jejun, obviously, so I was still interested. Turns out, being interested was a mistake, because the world just past the border is awful. Jejun is heavy in forests and grass and actual ground, but I didn’t get far past the border before all that died away to sand. Sand sand sand.   I’m down to my last ration, so hopefully I can find a town soon.  

Two Days Later - An Outsider Village

I followed what amounts to a road in Crescen--which is apparently the name of this sand-blasted waste of space--and ended up finding a town. The outsiders are… I understand why the Jejunai want to keep them out of our country, because they’re wasteful and flamboyant and stupid, even putting aside their evil gods. Some wear enchanted garments that seem to do absolutely nothing, while others are just wearing simple farmer’s clothes, though I haven’t seen any farms. Between what I picked up on the streets and from the Teacher, I knew enough outsider language to ask for directions to the temple, but I was ignored at best, threatened at worst. And when I found the temple, there were no sermons and no food.   Tonight, I’m sleeping between a stack of boxes in an alley; I’m worried I’m in over my head. I need to figure something out.  

Next Day - Coins

I figured out the outsider society today, and I ate like an Apostle.   So, I disguised myself this morning to blend in, and followed some people, watching them. Everyone carries pouches of metal discs they call coins, and they trade coins for food and goods. It seems like the farmers (wherever they get their food) trade food for coins, who then trade coins for clothes or tools or entertainment. It’s a dumb system.   But, coins are a lot easier to steal than rations.   People definitely noticed me yesterday, so I’m going to have to be quick; I’ll rest most of the day, steal what I can in the afternoon, and leave at dusk. I’m pretty sure that if I want to get out of this desert (the sand-place), I need to head south before heading west again.  

About Two Weeks After Departure - More Context

Turns out, that last town wasn’t a town, it was a bazaar, which is apparently an outsider word for “a town where coins are exchanged.” I’m somewhere called Hasah now; it’s bigger, there are even more people, but they’re also carrying around less coins. Not much else to say; I’m ignored at best, harassed at worst, so I’m staying out of the way, finding a quiet spot to sleep tonight.   I need to kill some time, so… fuck it, it might be cathartic to get more of this “life story” out there, even if it’s just in my notes.   I left off talking about first meeting the Teacher, and being taken in. Damn me, but I upheld my end of the deal, and he his. For years. I went out, lied and coerced others just like me to come back: to join a gang, to help me rob an undefended caravan… I said a lot of things. Maybe some of them survived, maybe they didn’t. I never went back to that part of the hideout after they were delivered. I hated myself, I hated the Teacher, but I just… stopped caring, after a while. I was numb. I could say I was just trying to survive, that the Teacher would kill me sooner than let his project go, but that’s excuses. Death would probably have been better.   My name is Fina Bardales, and I am a murderer.   And I’d probably still be there. He taught me common (what the outsiders call their language) to help be his go-between for illicit supplies, he taught me to read and write, and... how to use his “gift,” as he called it. It started with parlor tricks: speaking without speaking, twisting emotions… then it started getting strange. And dangerous. I went back to the orphanage one time, tweaked the receptionist’s mind, got them to bring me my records. I was able to memorize the whole form:   Given Name: Fina
Surname: Bardales
Age: 5 (Useless info without a year, ha.)
Family status: Abandoned
Magical aptitudes: None   It hurt, to find out so much and so little at the same time. I… lashed out after that. I don’t even know why, I’d have gone into schooling within a year, anyway. I know I hurt them. I hope I didn’t kill them. I was distraught, and I realized then that I was dangerous. That I shouldn’t be in society.   Funny how that worked out, in retrospect.   A few days after that, I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I came back to the hideout from a supply run, and it was trashed. Broken furniture, books and chemicals and notes everywhere, blood, but no bodies. What supplies were remaining had been taken, along with most of the valuables. I don’t know what happened, and I still don’t, and the longer I’m on my own, the less I want to know.   ...whoever said writing in a journal was cathartic is full of shit.