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frosttippedsunflower · 1 year

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Mercy’s Backstory

Wood Elf Monk (Way of Mercy) -> Cleric of Twilight (later)

(Ages are in human terms. Obviously he is an elf, I’m just too lazy to try and figure out all of the correct ages lol. You know what I mean tho)

In a small, long forgotten town, Ehlark and Itylara Meliamne welcomed their fourth child into their family, along with a twin brother. The Meliamne’s were a large family in the depths of poverty with barely enough food for the parents, let alone their (now five) children. Ehlark and Itylara were not heavily involved in the lives of their children, and often left the children to fend for themselves despite their young ages. The parents cared more about their drug habit than their children, and were often too high to take care of their children, even if they cared. When their children were too fussy or cried too loud, Itylara would inject small amounts of sedatives into the child, just to get them to stop making a fuss without regard for the child’s well-being. As the eldest of the children, Syvis took it upon himself to take care of his siblings once he was old enough to know how. He was often caught stealing in the town, and the surrounding villages. He rarely stole valuables; he mainly stole food and clothing for his siblings and himself.

Maescia, the second eldest and first daughter, died shortly after Khiiral was born. She was an extremely fussy baby and child, which drove her parents almost to the point of madness. They were convinced that their daughter’s cries were that of a demon’s, sent from hell to corrupt them. Itylara killed Maescia, giving her child more drugs than her body could handle.

Khiiral and Maiele, the twins of the family, were very opposite babies. Khiiral was loud, and full of rage from the moment he was born. Maiele on the other hand, was calm, composed and rarely cried. Maiele was often forgotten about by his parents, which honestly wasn’t exactly a bad thing. Khiiral, on the other hand, was often the subject of his parents' rage and abuse. Money was already running low for the Meliamne’s, the drugs his parents relied so heavily on becoming too expensive. Instead of keeping Khiiral quiet with the sedatives, they would instead remove him from the run-down home they lived in, often leaving him outside to face the elements. Khiiral was a very smart child, however, and learned how to survive almost entirely on his own, with help from his older brother Syvis when it was needed. In a way, Khiiral held a bit of a grudge against his twin, though he didn’t see the neglect that Maiele went through in his own way.

When Khiiral was four years old, he began to accompany his brother when he went to neighbouring towns and villages to steal food and other necessities. He learned how to sneak virtually unseen through a crowd, blending in with the masses; a face among the crowd. Khiiral was determined to become self-sufficient, having learned from a young age that he could only rely on himself. Seven months after he began to join Syvis on his outings, Khiiral was caught by one of the vendors he had stolen from. In a mix of fear and rage, Khiiral attacked the vendor and mortally wounded him. Bystanders watched in horror as Khiiral beat the man to death with his own wares, alerting the town guard to his presence. As the guard descended upon Khiiral, Syvis managed to intervene, attacking guards and bystanders alike in order to give Khiiral time to flee. Syvis was detained by police as Khiiral escaped, fleeing back to the shack where his family lived a few miles away from this town. Syvis was later sentenced to death, and a warrant was put out for Khiiral, though none could fully remember what he looked like. Syvis was hanged at the age of nine.

Due to the warrant, Khiiral was forced to lay low and not venture into neighbouring towns. In this time, his parents gave birth to his last two siblings, Elora and Wistari. Elora was promptly sold off to an underground slave trader and was not heard from again. About two years after Syvis’ death, Khiiral finally was brave enough to continue to steal food and other necessities again. He refused to return to the town that had killed his brother, the guilt from the event fueling his rage at the world, and hatred for himself. He also did not see his parents during these two years, nor did he see the siblings he had left behind. Khiiral had made a small den in the forest near the shack, crude and at the mercy of the elements. As well as being malnourished, Khiiral was also often ill due to the constant cold he had to endure.

On the cusp of his seventh birthday, Itylara and Ehlark finally went searching for their oldest son. They found his den and the few items he had managed to collect over his time in partial seclusion. They decided to take these items to try and sell, and ruined his den for good measure. When Khiiral returned to find his den destroyed, he flew into an inconsolable rage. He stormed to his parent’s house, finding the rotting and decaying body of Wistari discarded in the corner like he was mere trash, chunks of flesh missing, while Mailele was nowhere to be seen. He could not find his father either, but his mother was sitting on the rundown mattress in the opposite corner of the room, sorting through the items she had helped steal from Khiiral’s den. Khiiral attacked his mother, stabbing her repeatedly with a sharpened stake he had managed to crudely craft to help him hunt. He stabbed his mother seventy seven times, each strike filled with a growing rage. Even as her body stopped moving, and her blood soaked across the floor, he continued to stab her lifeless body, channeling all of his hatred and rage into the act. Finally, Khiiral dropped the blood-covered stake beside his mother’s body, nothing but hatred in his eyes. With a sense of calm and serenity he hadn’t felt before, he walked out of the shack and back into the woods, deeper than he had been before. He walked until he felt he was a safe enough distance away, collapsing against a tree. For the first time in a long time, Khiiral began to softly cry.

He laid there for what felt like days, but in reality was more like mere hours. He stared at the sky, watching the bright colours fade into the soft tones of night, until the stars began to twinkle in the sky and contemplated his actions. In truth, he hated being alone. More than anything, he missed Syvis. While the two weren’t overly friendly with each other, Khiiral had a deep respect for Syvis and how hard he worked to take care of not only himself, but his siblings as well. He briefly wondered how Maiele was faring, but the thought was quickly pushed aside. He thought about how his life could have been different, if only one or two actions had been different. If he made other choices than the ones he did. He felt the familiar feeling of his rage rising again as his mind wandered to his parents, of the hell that they selfishly put him through. If his parents hated children so much, why did they have so many? Why did they have to continue to make them all suffer?

Khiiral let out a small breath. Why couldn’t they just care about us? Did they even notice Syvis’ disappearance? Why did Syvis have to die? Why..Why couldn’t it have been me..?

Those thoughts were interrupted by the snapping of branches not far away. Khiiral thought briefly about the wildlife in the area, about what could be causing the heavy footfalls. A bear? Maybe a wildcat? The answer was neither, as the clambering form of Ehlark Meliamne broke through the trees not far away from where Khiiral sat. In his hands was the bloody stake that Khiiral had used to murder his mother, a deep rage and hatred that looked eerily familiar glimmering in his father’s eyes. “You little, fucking brat.” His father spat in slurred Elvish. “You murderer. You’ll pay for what you’ve done, you know that? You’ll get what you fucking deserve!”

The rage in Khiiral began to bloom again, rising like a butterfly taking flight. “You put me here!” He shouted, his voice hoarse from lack of use. “I never asked to be here! I wanted to be dead a long time ago! Maybe then someone might take pity on me and stop my suffering!!”

Ehlark ran at his son, though Khiiral was able to evade his father’s attacks. The time he spent learning from Syvis paid off here more than ever. He wasn’t fast enough, however, due to fatigue and hunger. His father managed to land a harsh blow directly in his chest, narrowly avoiding Khiiral’s heart. Khiiral dropped, gasping and scrabbling at the stake, but he was unable to grasp it properly. His father, sure that he landed the lethal blow, stared down at Khiiral in disgust. He turned to walk away after spitting on his dying son, a last ‘fuck you’ to Khiiral.

Khiiral laid among the dirt and grime, his own blood pooling around him as he feebly tried to pull out the stake. He wanted to sob and cry, but he found no tears would come. He had cried enough in this lifetime. Maybe the next time he came back, he would be forgiven for the crimes in this life. He took solace in the fact that he might see Syvis again, and stopped struggling against his fate. This is what he deserved, after all. His eyes closed as he embraced death.

The figure that stood before Khiiral was hard to see; the more his blurry vision tried to focus on him, the more his visage seemed to swim. His presence had a frightening aura around him, but Khiiral wasn’t entirely afraid. He saw the figure more as a savior rather than someone to be feared.

“You are dying, young one. You must come with me. It is your time.”

Khiiral felt the pain in his chest start to dissipate. He slowly sat up, trying to focus on the figure again. “You came to save me. Why?” The small wood elf rose to his feet, coughing slightly.

“I am not saving you. You are on the brink of death. I’m here to collect your soul to bring it to the underworld to be judged by Lord Hades.”

“You’re taking me from this life. That’s saving me.” Khiiral stood beside the figure now, staring forward. “I’m ready. Anything to get out of here.”

Thanatos was surprised by his words. An elf, not even of mature age, murdered by his own father with the weapon he used to kill his mother, treating death as a sweet release. “Tell me of your life as we go.” He instructed, which Khiiral slowly started to oblige to. While Khiiral didn’t go into complete detail, the details he did mention were enough to bother Thanatos. “Death seems to run rampant in your family. I have helped a few of your kin cross into the realm of the dead.” He glanced over at Khiiral, who walked quietly beside him now, with a calmness Khiiral hadn’t felt before. “Syvis, your kin, spoke very well of you. He had hoped that he wouldn’t be seeing you in the afterlife any time soon.”

“He was always a lot kinder than I was.” Khiiral said, feeling that familiar twinge of guilt in his chest. “I should’ve been the one to die that day, not him. I wish he was still here.” Khiiral scratched his cheek, but Thanatos could swear there was a hint of a tear on the boy’s face.

“He cared for you very deeply.” Thanatos agreed. “Your life was very sad. Such a waste.” Thanatos glanced down at Khiiral again, noting the look of annoyance etched on the boy’s features. “...Sorry.”

“It’s fine. You’re not wrong, I guess.” Khiiral looked away a little bit. “All I wanted to do was live. To have the chance to redeem myself. I.. I thought that maybe I could become a good person.” He let out a breath. “Maybe in my next life.”

The two walked into the realm of the dead in silence. Thanatos stopped at the edge of the River Styx, turning to face Khiiral. “A group has found your body. They are attempting to resuscitate you.”

“Why would they do that?” Khiiral frowned, looking up at him now.

“It is their way.” Thanatos stared down hard at Khiiral, the pure white eyes the only thing Khiiral could fully make out. “You mentioned you wanted to redeem yourself in your next life. Do you truly want that? And there is no point in lying to me; I will know if you do.”

Khiiral paused, nodding hesitantly. “I.. I know I can be good. If.. If I’m given the chance.”

Thanatos was quiet for a long moment, staring hard into the young Wood Elf’s eyes. Finally, Thanatos spoke. “I believe you can. Promise me that you will do your best to become the person you want to be.”

Khiiral stared up at Thanatos again, a confused expression on his face. “What do you mean?”

“Do you promise? Yes or no? Do you swear it on the River Styx?”

“Y-yes. I promise. I will do my best to become the person I want to be.”

“Good. Go, listen to your elders. Keep your heart pure, Khiiral Meliamne. Rebrand yourself if that is what helps you heal. We will see each other soon.”

Khiiral let out a cry of pain, pushing his palms against his eyes as they burned with pain. He collapsed to the ground on the surprisingly dry banks of the River Styx.

When Khiiral finally awoke, he was...warm. The pain in his chest was all but gone, reduced to only a dull ache. He could hear voices around him, but he couldn’t understand what was being said, as if they were speaking a foreign language. When Khiiral opened his eyes, the sight of a large dragon jarred him out the feeling of comfort he had been starting to enjoy. He let out a bit of a loud yelp, startling the others in the room as well. “Calm, child. You’re safe now.” A soft, feminine voice spoke, placing a scaled hand on his chest to carefully hold him still on the bed. “You suffered some life-threatening injuries. Thankfully, we were able to bring you from the brink of death. I thank whatever deity had hold on you, for they let you come back to us.”

Khiiral tried to steady his breathing, now staring up at a large white-blue Dragonborn with sympathy-filled green eyes. “W-Who are you. Where am I? How did I get here?”

The Dragonborn laughed, stroking a clawed hand over his head, but retracted it quickly when he flinched. “You are safe. My name is Mijira Coldclaw. You may just call me Mijira. As for how you got here, you are the only one who can answer that. But it can wait for now; you must be starving. Would you like a meal? You do look like you’ve skipped a couple.” She smiled again, but Khiiral felt his annoyance rising again. At the mention of a meal, however, his belly rumbled.

“....I would appreciate the food.” He said before looking away. “...Thank you.” Mijira nodded, and led him to the dining hall. The monastery was a very pretty place; modest, for the most part, but very clean and well kept.

They served him a hot meal, something he hadn’t eaten in a long time. He devoured the food with little manners, desperate to have a full belly for the first time in his very short life. Mijira and the other monks stared at the scrappy boy and his animal-like eating habits with sadness, understanding that he had not been taught how to properly behave at a table.. And how to use cutlery. After the meal, Mijira asked Khiiral a little bit about himself and the life he had lived such far. He was vague for the most part, but the monks were able to get a sense of how tough this little boy’s life had been so far.

Finally, Mijira came to sit beside Khiiral. “I’m sorry you’ve lived such a harsh life so far, young one.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulders to hold him against her side, a gesture he hadn’t felt before. “I am thankful that Thanatos didn’t take you all the way, and that he let you come back to the world of the living.”

“Thanatos? Is that the figure that I met?” Khiiral asked, looking up at her and subconsciously leaning into her touch. “He didn’t tell me his name. But he said that he met my brother and they talked about me.”

“We can’t know for sure, but your eyes are white, just like his are when he’s appeared to us. As healers, we are familiar with both life and death. We try to honour both sides, so we often leave him offerings, especially after someone we were trying to help passes over.” Mijira gave Khiiral a soft smile. “I will be sure to leave him another offering tonight, as thanks for letting you come to us.”

Khiiral sat quietly against the Dragonborn, thinking over her words. “You said.. You helped people?” He looked up at her a bit slowly. “He.. Thanatos.. Let me come back as long as I promised to become the person I wanted to be. And I.. I want to be a person that my older brother could be proud of. A person that helps people.” Mijira nodded as he spoke, watching as Khiiral started to fidget with his fingers. “Do you think.. I could do that?”

“I know you could do anything you set your mind to, young one. If you want to help people, you’ve come to the perfect place. I am willing to take responsibility for you, and to help you learn our ways, if that is what you wish.”

“I don’t know if I can become a good person. I.. I did a lot of bad things. But I regret it all, I promise. I just.. I did what I thought I needed to do..”

Mijira carefully pulled Khiiral into her lap, holding his frail body against hers. “People will do what they can to survive. If you truly regret your actions, then I fully believe that you are not beyond redemption. Anyone can be saved, in that sense, if they really want to be.” She stroked some matted hair from his face. “I can see that life has not treated you kindly thus far, and for that I am truly sorry. A child like you deserves to learn that the world is not a cruel place, but i fear you’ve learned the opposite, haven’t you?” Realizing she had not asked his name yet, she carefully turned Khiiral to face her.

“I introduced myself, but did not ask your name. I apologize. What is your name, little butterfly?”

Khiiral opened his mouth to answer, but paused as Thanatos’ words echoed in his head. Rebrand yourself if that is what helps you heal. “Can.. I pick a new name?”

Mijira looked surprised, but she smiled softly once again, an action that Khiiral found he quite liked. “Of course. You want to change who you are, after all, right? Go ahead. Choose your name.”

Khiiral thought for a long moment, before finally looking up at her again. “My name is Mercy. After the compassion that I was shown.”

Mijira let out a soft laugh. “I think it is a wonderful name, Mercy. It is a pleasure to officially meet you. As of this day, you are under the protection and care of Mijira Coldclaw, as well as the others that reside in this monastery. I expect you to show them the same respect and kindness you will show me. We are a part of your family now. Welcome, Mercy.”

Mercy swallowed hard, biting his tongue to stop the tears from filling his eyes. “...Thank you.”

For the next sixteen years, Mijira kept Mercy under her wing, teaching him the ways of being a monk. She helped him keep his temper in check, and gave him ways to cope with the intense feelings that often threatened to consume him. He found meditation and reading were the things that were able to calm his mind most, once he learned how to read and write. She was able to teach him to read, write and speak Common and Draconic, and taught him to read and write in Elvish. The Dwarves in the monastery are also teaching him to speak, read and write dwarvish as well, but he isn’t quite there yet. When it was time for him to choose his Monk Tradition, he chose to follow in the same footsteps as Mijira, following the Way of Mercy just like she did. As a symbol of respect for Thanatos as well, he chose his mask to be a butterfly. During the sixteen years that he was studying at the monastery as well, he often participated in rituals and in giving offerings to Thanatos, and prayed to him every day at dusk.

On a particularly calm day, Mijira finally approached Mercy while he was meditating. She sat beside him slowly, her age finally catching up to her even though her body didn’t show it. “I believe you have learned all you can in the monastery, Mercy.” She said softly, taking his hand in hers. “You’ve grown so much. What a fine boy you’ve become.” He could see the gleam in her eyes as she forced the tears to recede. “I think it’s time that you ventured out into the world, beyond our monastery and the towns surrounding it. There are many that are in need of help, and there is much more of the world for you to see.”

Mercy let out a small breath, turning to face his mentor. “I understand.” He knew there was no point in fighting her; she won every argument they ever had, even when he wasn’t in the wrong. He bowed his head low. “ I will go. But I will return when I think that I’m ready and that I’ve learned what I needed to learn.”

Mijira smiled, stroking her hand over his head like she had done since the very first day that he arrived. “I will look forward to that day, Mercy. I know leaving here will be hard for you, but I have faith that you’ll see the beauty in the world and that you’ll help save a lot of people.” She pulled him against her for a hug, no longer having to be cautious. His body had become much stronger, much more capable of taking a hit or a particularly strong hug. “You haven’t been skipping meals, have you?” She chided gently, though she knew that he would never skip her cooking. He smiled softly as she spoke, wrapping his arms around her to return the hug. “You’re still so thin. Make sure you eat properly. I’ll know if you don’t.”

“You know that I love food and that I would constantly be eating if I could.” His lips quirked into another small smile as he watched her. “I will be okay. I promise.” He leaned back, sitting on his legs. “I am grateful for everything you’ve taught me, Mijira. From the bottom of my heart; Thank you.”

Mijira’s lip wobbled, this time unable to reign in her tears. “I’m so proud of you already, Mercy. I will be forever. I’ll arrange a boat to come grab you from the nearby port town, okay? I want you to go experience a new land. Go wherever the ship plans to dock. I will send you with enough reading material to keep you busy on the journey, and then some. As will the others. I know you’ve been doing well in your cleric studies, as well as your Dwarvish lessons. Maybe you’ll even make friends with someone who can keep teaching you in that aspect, hm?” She stroked a claw down the side of his face. “You’ll leave in two moons time, so make sure you’re fully prepared. Don’t forget your mask. And a spare change of clothes!” She began to ramble, earning another small smile from Mercy. He gently placed a hand on hers.

“I will make sure all of my bags are packed, and that you approve of everything in them. Will that make you fret less?”

Mijira sniffled slightly. “Probably not.”

“I didn’t think so.” Mercy said with a small laugh himself. “I will do everything in my power to be safe. I promise.”

Mijira sighed, wiping her eyes. “I know you will. I know I don’t really have anything to worry about, but that won’t stop me from worrying.”

“I know.” He agreed.

“Just.. Try to make some friends, okay dear?”

“I will.”

“Whenever you see a butterfly, know that it’s me watching over you. I love you, Mercy.”

Mercy was quiet for a long moment, picking at his nails slightly. Finally, when he was sure his voice wouldn’t shake, he spoke. “I love you too, Mijira.”

Two moons later, early in the morning, Mercy bid farewell to the people who had taken him in and helped change his life. While he did his best to follow their teachings, and to keep his temper under control, he could tell that there was still that anger and hatred inside him, quelled for the moment. What the triggers were for his anger, however, were still to be discovered.

He boarded the Phoenix, a large and beautiful boat commanded by a strong and very pretty Tiefling. He paused at the entrance of the boat, glancing back at the monastery he had come to call home. He could’ve sworn he saw a figure standing in the entrance to the monastery, leaning against the doorway. At first he thought it was just someone from the monastery, but when Mercy caught sight of the pure white eyes, he knew that Mijira wasn’t the only one watching over him.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #dnd writing #d&d #mercy

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