Letter to Jeis 1

Jeis,

I am so sorry that I left you the way I did.  Right now, I am sure that you are pretending that everything is fine and that you’re not worried.  I just want to say that it is okay if this isn’t true; it is okay to not be okay.

You see, I am not okay.  I have spent 10 years in a constant state of reflection— and often— regret as to what I have failed to do.  I have caused pain and sorrow, and I mourn for the faces that I cannot dare to remember.  And in avoidance of closure, I have been putting off doing something that I know will selfishly help myself and will unselfishly help others.  And it tears me up inside to not know for which reason I am doing this.

Why, you may ask?

When I was younger, I didn’t really know who my father was, outside of the fact that he was a bad orc, and my mother died when I was young.  My half-sister Vylraele took me in and raised me as her own and made sure that I never had to know what I came from.  I really appreciate her kindness and all that she tried to protect me from: This didn’t last though.

At the cusp of adulthood, I met a man named Asa.  He was a half-orc like me, and had even been seeking me out!  Turns out, he was a cousin on my father’s side and had ran away from the orcish gang that he was raised in.  At first, I would have nothing to do with him and refused to speak to him.  But eventually, I realized I had a soft spot for the guy.  It didn’t take long for us to become best friends.

I moved out of Rae’s home and decided to live with Asa in Neverwinter.  We rented an apartment above a tavern by the pier, and we worked as maintenance crew for the docs (I bet you can’t even imagine me as an apprentice shipwright!).  We worked hard throughout the days, and then at night… Heh, we’ll just say those were the good years.

Unfortunately, those days came to a halt.  Word was spreading about a group of orcs that were beginning to build an army and were terrorizing the outreaches of Faerun.  Unsettled, I asked Asa if my father was one of those orcs.  Turns out, he was the leader.

I don’t know what possessed me to do so, but against my better judgement and all of the voices in my head screaming to turn back, I left Neverwinter for what would turn out to be nearly a decade.  I went to seek out my father and demand that he face me, but instead I was captured and starved for 25 days until my will to live was but a faint memory.  This only impressed the orcs, and they pressed me into their service.  My father became my commander and my warden.

I’ll spare you the details of what those years held, but just know that I still occasionally have nightmares about the horrible things I saw— the horrible things I did.  Luckily, I had a friend that helped me realize that we were becoming monsters.  We were becoming what other races saw.  And after a particularly bad battle, I broke.  Jeis, in that moment I realized death would be better than continuing this path.

I decided to face my father.  To kill him.

I made my way into his tent after I was sure everyone was already asleep.  He wasn’t though.  We stood off across from each other, and I readied my throwing axe.  This was it.  My chance to end the trauma and to end his terrorizing of the people of Faerun.

Surprising me, my friend Gros appeared behind my shoulder and grabbed my arm.  He urged me to leave with him, to not engage.  He knew that if I tried to fight my father, the guards would hear and my life would be ended.  Even I had known that was a guarantee before I entered the tent, yet I had known in my heart it was worth it.

But I had watched the tears well in Gros’ eyes, and I lost my own ressolve.  We left that night, never to turn back.  We rode and rode until we collapsed in exhaustion.  It took time, but eventually we made it to the safety of Neverwinter.

I do not believe Gros ever looked back, but for me, feels like I only occasionally glance forward.

And that is why I must kill my father.

To tell you the truth, Jeis, I am scared.  I have been terrified to face the things I have left behind in a life that was damned and condemned.  But I have come to the realization that I cannot hide anymore.  I cannot continue to try and help you with your problems in order to ease my conscience of my own.  And that is why I must part.

Please do not worry.  I will think of you every day, and smile as I think of you hustling travelers or trying to con me out of some ale.  Most of all, I will think of your strength and bravery.  When I feel tired or unsure, it will be remembering you that keeps me pushing forward.

In the circumstance that I perish along this journey,  I have a key hidden underneath my bed in a little wrapped box.  Take it, and use it to open the basement door outside of my room.  In there, you will find things from my past along with documents for the inn.  My will and testament is secured with these files.

If I do not return, do know that I care for you and I will continue to do so even when my essence is wiped from this plane.  And if I do, we’ll share a cup of ale.

Love,

Liam

P.S.  I gave Greta the recipe for ginger tea.  If your tummy gives you any troubles, just make sure you sip it slowly.