Beef
Beef
... but behind him is a past he's spent too long running from; one that's bound to catch up to him, whether he wants it to or not.
Born under a different name and to a different sort of 'family' than most of us might be used to, most of his life was spent training to become something he had no choice in. If he wanted to be a good clan member, he had to be a good soldier. If he wanted to be a good soldier, he had to fight.
Militaristic and somewhat isolationist, the Qyxpahrgh clan governed over their little corner of the world behind the mountains by sword and shield, their culture built around reveling in feral violence. They likened themselves to the beasts of blood and dirt, following the wild and oftentimes unfair cruelty of Mother Nature. Children were not paired with parents, nor even kept within a nursery. They were tossed to the wilds, to show their mettle outside the coddling care of a nursemaid or what have you. If they were found as a corpse, none would mourn them-- for who would mourn a weakling?
This was the sort of world our boy was born into; it was the one he'd spent many years of his life craving to join; the same he eventually learned he never could, for his heart would never let him.
I will not spoil all of what he did afterwards, as he himself would not want to share, but I will write this: the next four years of his life were spent slowly trying to unwind himself from the snare of his clan, and they were-- still are, actually-- the best years of his life.
Now with new friends and newfound freedom, Beef is happy to leave his past behind him. He doesn't want to nor need to look back ever again. Although many scars still lay beneath his skin, scars from lightning and failures and people left behind, they needn't be shared. Because those scars are what propel him forward, the monsters that drive him to run and run and run. To tend to them would mean acknowledging that he was hurt. To share them would mean opening himself to others. To heal them would siphon the meaning from gaining them in the first place.
Beef is fine. He's strong. He can take it.
He isn't weak.
He won't let himself be weak.
A large, soft-hearted dragonborn with a gentle and friendly disposition. Beef-- as he so commonly introduces himself nowadays-- seeks to do and see as much good as he can in the world.
View Character Profile
Alignment
Lawful Good
Age
19
Children
Gender
Male
Eyes
Green
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Copper
Height
6ft
Weight
219lbs
An In-between
Well, this is new. I don't think I've ever written here during a period of time that wasn't moments before slumber, but I suppose it's always good to try new things! That, and [Meidei] has stared at that... disconcerting creature for quite a length of time, and I find myself seeking things to do in the meanwhile.
Let us start with this morning, shall we? The day'd started rather surprisingly, as [Reeo'd] decided to approach me to ask about the magical glaive. I'd been happy to show it to him, and I was most pleasantly surprised to see he could perform some rather impressive tricks with it! I offered to give him the glaive, and to my surprise, he was rather-- well, surprised!-- at my offer. He'd described his abilities as a mere fluke, and I joked that simply meant he had a natural talent for handling such weapons. Thinking back on it now, however, I will make a slight correction in that I didn't actually 'give' the glaive to him. I lent it to him, rather, offering to take it back should he ever decide he has no desire to wield one. I am aware of his capabilities as a spellcaster, and though I myself am rather untrained in said field, I know from observation that he is not personally one for the frontlines. Still, that is why I offered to take it back should he wish to return it. I do hope he finds his own use for it.
Ah, and our experiment. [Reeo'd] taken out his quarterstaff and asked me to strike him. I'd been somewhat hesitant at first, given his... nonthreatening build, but ever a sucker for following the wishes of a friend, I'd complied.
Which was a... bad idea.
His reaction time had been woefully inadequate in halting my strike; I'd unwittingly put my full strength into it, causing him what I can only imagine was intense pain, and a terrible stomachache.
Thankfully I managed to soothe his wounds, though not before apologizing profusely. He'd reassured me, informing me that 'it was all cool, dude,' and we'd resumed our experimentation, though this time I made sure to exercise more caution.
I casted another spell, this one appearing as a colorful and quite lovely array of blinking lights, and that seemed to withdraw a reaction from the quarterstaff. [Reeo] informed me that it was likely resistant to magical damage, as it was crafted from parts of that terrible, awful snail they'd defeated, and I found myself glad that at least some usefulness was drawn from that... unfortunate encounter.
Afterwards, the town's attention had been drawn towards the sight of a man dragging one of those unsettling constructs behind his horse. He'd stopped and a small crowd gathered around him, including several members of the party, and we'd all watched as he began to violently bash at the metallic creature's head, demanding answers as to its allies. It'd responded... frighteningly, rather, echoing his words in a most unnerving manner...
Once the creature became unresponsive, the man appeared to lose interest, leaving the body in the street as the crowd began to dissipate. The three of us-- [Artehmiss,] [Meidei] and I-- rushed towards the heap. In the distance were quickly approaching guards, one of them even calling out to us. [Artehmiss,] ever quick on his feet, managed to approach them himself and distract them with some sort of rambling related to our previous encounter with the mechanical miniatures. While he was doing that, [Meidei] gestured for me to pick up the automaton, and I did so.
Actually, now that I recall, [Meidei] has been rather...
Ah, distractions, distractions. Apologies.
As I was writing, I picked up the creature with little difficulty, though what occurred next was... unpleasant to say the least. [Meidei] casted the same spell he'd tried to perform on me last time, though I allowed him to do so this time around. The resulting journey was beyond destabilizing, as I found myself being transported through space itself, finding my destination to be the roof of the church we'd set up camp beside. The resulting tumble was slightly less nausea-inducing, as I landed in soft dirt instead of very hard roofing. My fall had drawn the attention of [Reeo,] who'd come over to question me as to my unusual entrance, and I'd opened my snout to speak when the metallic construct landed beside me.
After explaining the situation, [Reeo] assisted me in hefting the construct towards the cart, where we rested it against one of the wheels. [Artee] and [Meidei] reappeared soon after, thus we commenced our impromtu autopsy.
Well, I use the words 'we' and 'our' liberally. [Meidei] is performing a ritual to identify the strange creature, while [Artehmiss] and I are keeping lookout.
Still, I cannot help but get the shivers whenever I glance over at the battered construct. It is actively decaying as [Meidei] examines it, and I find the speed at which it is doing so...
Urgh. Terrible. Awful.
It does appear that [Meidei] is finishing up though, and that means this journal entry must come to an end. I'll inform you if anything else interesting happens, and when I finally ask [Meidei] to help me with my cloak. And also when I give him that compliment. By the spirits, I'm getting so forgetful.
Play-ing!
Guess what I've learned today, Yvelda? [Play-ing]! Or... [improvh]? [Akting]? I'm not certain of the proper terminology, simply that it was rather enjoyable! At least, more enjoyable than the combative showcases back home. What's even better is that I was actually able to participate in this one! Though... I don't think I was all that good, aha.
Yes, when that boar appeared I'd...
I'd certainly panicked, let us say kindly. I hadn't witnessed one of my spirit's kind for so long, and seeing it set ablaze sent me into a panic. And having failed at dousing said fire, I
Well, I shan't repeat the thoughts that'd run through my head in that moment. Today was a rather good day, all things considered! I got to use that lovely ritual you taught me, I was able to pretend to be a shepherd for a short period of time, and I was given ample room upon a billboard to express my since dormant creativity with the party's purchased paint supplies, creating an ['advertaizment!'] Rather unfortunately, I was unable to visit that needlesmith as I'd previously mentioned in my last entry, but no matter! I just so happened to recall that [Meidei] was capable of mending broken materials with one of his spells. He'd done so previously on my mentor's axe, and it'd done wonders for it! I'm considering asking him to help mend my cloak, though I'm not fully certain if he'd wish to fulfil such a benign request, ahaha...
Oh, and [Meidei's] new haircut looks lovely. I should remember to tell him that next time. Remind me, won't you?
Marros?
The day started simple enough, journal.
Waking up early to the sounds of excitement from Rio was to be expected (he does still regard us as heroes, after all), but what was not was the note left on the room table. Although I couldn't read it, I knew it was written by Mayday, at the very least, and I hope that means he's starting to be more open to communication with the party. I'd meant to pass it to Artemis later, but, ah... that became unnecessary rather quickly.
The rest of the day was spent ensuring Rio did not accidentally get himself into any trouble. While the outing was enjoyable, there was a certain incident at the bridge. One that makes much more sense now with the information on hand.
Rio had stopped quite suddenly in the middle of the bridge. Initially I'd assumed he was bracing himself to vomit, but rather surprisingly, he turned to face me instead and asked if I'd heard anything.
I replied with a simple no, and, fearing he was suffering from vertigo, decided it'd be best if I carried him the rest of the way over.
We spent the rest of the trip exploring the other side of the Maw, before stopping at a tram. Rio had spotted the giant flying balloons sitting at the crest of the hill, and he'd quickly rushed over to a tram that carried people up.
The gnome there was pleasant enough, and he was quite willing to answer any questions we had about the flying airships. He did mention something interesting though, and that was that the airships were powered by artificers. It certainly got me wondering if that is something Mayday could do.
Ah, but this is where it gets interesting journal. For you see, shortly after the cart's doors shut, a man that'd been rushing over seemed to...
Blip through them.
It was quite a sight to see, and most certainly something I plan to ask the man himself about sometime in the future.
Introductions were made, and he told us his name was Aust. Both Rio and I seemed most interested in him, though Rio was far less adept at hiding it. Pleasantries were, however, quickly interrupted when Rio pointed out some men crawling up a nearby tower, and...
It was the cult of the metal dog, journal. They were back.
Instantly, panic had flooded my body. I saw they were attempting to cast some sort of spell and, fearing the worst, I tried to open the cart doors to throw a javelin at them in hopes of interrupting their casting. Unfortunately, it did not work, as they were soon done with their spell as three air spirits appeared outside the cart.
Moments passed before the cart began to shudder and shake. One of the spirits had disappeared from outside, so I assumed it was one of them that attacked the cart. Looking up I spotted a hatch, and although I was not tall enough to open it, with Aust's help we were able to hoist Rio up. Rather frustratingly, the young half-elf seemed to believe this to be an opportunity to climb up there himself. Despite my best efforts, I was not able to pull him back down.
Thankfully, it seemed none of the spirits had taken the chance to attack him, as when I jumped up there myself he appeared unscathed.
The following fight was rather standard, until the second of the two cart supports snapped.
And this, journal, is where it gets stressful.
Because shortly afterwards, I was launched off the cart.
I was able to escape my rage and cast Featherfall on myself in time. I'd hoped Aust and Rio would've been able to handle the remaining spirits, but it appears they were not, as the cart was soon falling with me.
In a panic, I launched myself off the nearby cliff wall in an attempt to get closer to the cart, and although I was able to cast it on the conductor as well as my two party members, in my panic I'd forgotten to recast it on myself. Which meant I was quickly flying closer to the three.
I'll be frank. This is where I thought I would die. Though my body is strong, I doubted my ability to survive such a fall, especially since I'd be crashing into the metal cart.
But then I remembered Steve.
In a flash, he was summoned, and I asked him (albeit rather rudely) to cast Featherfall on all of us. Thankfully, he complied quickly, and soon the four of us were gently floating down towards the ground.
There, I saw the rest of the normal party gathered around some cult members. I was unable to catch all of their interrogation, but I did hear mention of the cult's temple located... at the very bottom of the Maw. Which was, I'll admit, rather annoying to hear, considering all of the close encounters I'd already had with heights and the like. I may be accustomed to living high up, but I've had the unfortunate luck of becoming used to falling down...
This, however, was not the most curious fact of this journey.
What intrigued me most was when Rio referred to Mayday by the name Marros.
Alive
He’s alive.
They’re both alive.
Everyone is
alive.
By the spirits, Yvelda, you have no idea how… scared I was. At first I was quite perturbed at the presence of those many-armed… ‘monstrosities,’ but when Mayday got pulled back, and when Artemis collapsed, I—
I’ll be honest, I am… quite blanked out as to the occurrences after Artemis’ fainting. I remember getting pulled back, yes, and then getting teleported elsewhere, but…
But it’s fine. As long as everyone is alive, as long as everyone’s okay, then it’s fine.
Gosh. I… I do believe that what I am feeling is rather… relieved, almost? Granted, not all is well. Not at all. I can see that the encounter with the spikey-armed lumberer has left Mayday in a horrible state of mind, but I don’t quite think it’s my place at the moment to offer him support, if he even wishes for it. I, for one, find myself relating to the sense of just… being left, for a moment. Not alone, just… left. In quiet. To calm my mind, as it were. And, well… you were always the best at giving me that.
You’ve missed out on quite a lot. Or, rather, I’ve missed out on telling you quite a lot. We’ve acquired a prisoner, a band of refugees who we are currently escorting towards a town, and an old friend. Aust, well… he’s a good addition to the party. Extremely capable and well-versed in combat. Certainly a respectable fighter.
Oh, and… ah, I’ve been rather lax in my writing duties haven’t I? I have yet to even mention the fact that Everska, it’s…
I cannot… agree with what Elion has done. In fact, for the first time in… well, actually, it wasn’t that long ago where I found myself thinking similarly. That aside, however, I… don’t enjoy that we are lugging along a man who’d chosen to sacrifice one city for another. I understand the reasoning behind it, and from what little I’ve drawn of their discussions, I can see why he’d do such a thing if his clan was truly in such dire straits, but it simply places this… sour note on the tip of my tongue. It was certainly a difficult decision, just not one I don’t believe I would’ve made were I placed in his position, nor one I would’ve been able to accept the casualties of were I ever to make it.
Ah, but it’s getting rather late now. That encounter with the… beasts was quite unpleasant. It also left me with a new scar embedded below my ribs. Isn’t that just nice? I suppose just another to be added to the tally, and another hole I’ll have to sew close.
Oh, not in me, no no! I was never as adept with medicinal treatment as you were. No, I was just referring to my cloak. It’s gotten rather ragged over the course of this journey, and I find myself wanting to patch it up. I’m unsure as to how I might accomplish this, considering I know only the bare basics of needlework, but a few simple stitches should at least keep it structurally sound. For now.
I really should take it into a needlesmith’s soon, though. Especially if we truly are making our way to the north. I’m certain the others would enjoy the extra layers.
Yuja
What do I do, Yvelda?
What do I do?
They're destroying it. Burning it. Artemis, his home, they're
I can't. I couldn't. They were my people. They still are my people.
Aren't they, Yvelda?
I'm not sure if I can. If I even could. The thought of it, raising a weapon against a fellow Qyxpahrgh dragonborn, seeing the pain and the hurt and the betrayal.
Rather, would they even care?
Would they even look me in the eye and acknowledge me as one of their own? The naive scalesworn who never even passed into adulthood. The failure of a scalesworn who could never earn a place in his keep.
At that point, I imagine it'd just be like putting down a dog.
It hurts, Yvelda. Everything is screaming at me, and quite honestly, I want to scream back. I think you'd find this a little funny, but I can barely even manage to write this out. This is probably the worst my handwriting's ever gotten, haha.
... I know what I have to do. I know the only way is by combat. They'll never leave of their own volition, never back down from a fight they know they can win.
But every instinct, every nerve I have in my body feels like it's trying to rebel against me.
I'm shaking right now, Yvelda. Did I mention that? That's why my handwriting is so terrible, hah...
I can't stop thinking about it. About what would happen if I were to raise a claw against another Qyxpahrgh dragon. I've seen it so many times before, seen others fight and claw and kill with such ease. I know how to do it. I know I have to do it. But when I think of it, think of myself as the attacker, I just
If I were still home, I wouldn't even be able to write this. If anyone were to find out about these thoughts, I would've been booted out of the clan before I even made my case. Not that we get to make our case often, mind you. Disloyalty is the one crime they cannot permit. Not against others of your kind.
Never against others of your own kind.
I'd be a traitor. I'd be breaking a tenet of the clan.
I wish you were here. I wish you could help me. I can almost hear your voice, trying to guide me the best you can, but.
But.
You aren't here.
You haven't been here for a long time.
And you can't help me. Not with this.
I've spent too long running away from things.
They can brand me a traitor. They can brand me a coward. But they can't hurt my friend and get away with it.
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