Memoirs of an Outsider is my first fanfic. The OC and NPC's belong to Obsidian as usual. Reviews and criticism are most welcome. Liberties were taken with character development and time line. Dialog taken from the game is written from memory, and is not word for word, but the general content remains. This story entails the background of the KC, how she deals with her companions, and the relationships that evolve throughout her travels. Many thanks to Grey Company for the use of their elven language. A few errors in grammar were left to enhance the story and dialogue. ENJOY!
MEMOIRS OF AN OUTSIDER
CHAPTER 1: OUTCAST
"Hey"! "You there"! "Give us a hand". She moved quickly to grab an end of the bulky hay bale and hoist it up into the wagon. Bevil was panting
heavily, trying to move a bale alone, as she hurried to help. "Thanks Khy", he said with a half sort of smile. With all the loading complete, Kendall climbed
up to the rickety seat on the hay wagon and grabbed the reins. "I'm off to Highcliff boys; see you in a week or so"! He said. The small group watched
as Kendall drove out of sight, and then headed to their respective homes. Bevil remained for a few minutes before wishing her a goodnight, and
heading off. Khy, left standing alone in the wheat field, looked out over the serene little village of West Harbor. The sun was just setting in the west,
leaving shadows and hues dipping and swirling like the colors in the dyeing tub the village women used. This was her favorite part of the day, quiet and
peaceful. She let her eyes glide over the many dwellings, with their chimneys emitting the soft gray, steamy smoke of the cooking fires. The families inside
would be sitting down for supper and an evening of chatter of the day's events. She sighed with a longing for things she could not and would never have
–acceptance. The people were cordial enough, but they always stared at her strangely and whispered as she walked past.
-----
Khy walked down the hill to the little path that led to Daeghun's house, and shuffled along to the door. Daeghun, as usual, was not there. He was always
away on some errand or scouting mission. Therefore, she was familiar with being alone. She walked over to the hearth, re-lit the fire, and moved the
kettle filled with leftover stew onto the flames. She tried to reconcile in her mind, why these people were so cold and distant. Most did not know her, or
even try to know her. Her foster-father, Daeghun, had tried to explain once, that as the only survivor of the terrible massacre and near destruction of the
village many years ago, led people to stay guarded around her. "As you well know tinu" (daughter), "You give them cause to be wary". She knew
exactly what he was implying. Khy has some sort of sixth sense, "empathy" as it were, to the people around her. She knew what they felt, and
sometimes if they spoke true. Over the last few years, this "empathy" had seemed to grow stronger. "I guess", she thought, "I would be apprehensive
around me, too"! Daeghun had told her,"People don't like anyone to pry into their lives"! "That's why they stay away from you". The stew was
bubbling, as she removed the kettle from the fire. She ladled stew into a large bowl, and ate quickly, then cleaned up. She ran upstairs to her room,
snatched up her pack, and set out for the Mere.
-----
Khy spent a lot of time in the Mere and the surrounding escarpments of the Sword Coast. She always felt safe there, as if someone were watching out for
her, a guardian angel. She liked to think it was her mother, always vigilant and protective. The Mere could be wrought with danger, but if you took
precautions and kept on your toes, it could be a refuge. Daeghun would often scold her for staying away for days, camping in the Mere.
-----
She walked along, lost in thought. The only sounds were of her own soft breathing and the gentle suction of her boots moving through the soft, moist
loam. "Here's a good spot", she thought, as she began to set up her camp. As she gathered wood and stones for a fire, Daeghun's voice rang in her
head. "Don't forget to bank your fire before retiring, and circle your camp with traps for protection". "Daeghun", she thought, "amin atar" (my
father). He had taken her in as a babe, gave her a place to live, and tried to teach her the ways of a ranger. Too bad, it didn't take. She could hunt and
track with the best of them, and she felt more at home in woody terrain, but the bow was not her friend. Oh, she could use a bow in a pinch for defense,
and they were great for hunting. The problem was her breasts were always in the way. How could she tell somber, stoic Daeghun, that her chest was too
big and that is why she could not draw a bow properly. He had finally given up at perfecting her skills with the bow a few years ago. Now, he just let her
be. After the bow mishap, she had taken to wearing a wide piece of soft leather wrapped tightly around her chest. A "Breast Band" as she called it. It
was terribly uncomfortable, but she could use a bow with more ease, and her breasts did not bounce. She tried to speak to him once about her chest, but
he just looked at her and walked hurriedly away. Daeghun wasn't very good at interpersonal relationships. He answered her questions on mundane
topics, but never got into personal information. No emotional verbiage passed between them. Their relationship sometimes seemed arid and barren.
However, Khy knew he cared, and she cared for him. He was her atar (father). He only spoke when there was something to say, and there was never
anything tactile between them. No hugs and kisses for her, Daeghun found it distasteful. Touching went as far as correcting her aim, or helping her to her
feet after a fall during sparring.
-----
Once, when she was younger, they were on one of their training excursions, with tracking as the subject. Khy had noticed a pair of gray wolves playfully
chasing each other. "What are theydoing"? She asked Daeghun while pointing to the wolves. "Coupling" he said flatly."What's coupling"? She
asked. "For procreation" he said, trying to draw her attention to the deer tracks. Khy watched a few moments more; mesmerized by the way the male
mounted the female. She could not seem to look away. Something stirred inside her, some deep ache she could not understand. Daeghun pulling her hair
jolted her back to the job at hand. "Atar"? (Father), she asked. "Uma"(Yes), he answered, knowing that something was important when she spoke
elvish. "Mani toa mela"?(What is love)? Daeghun was taken aback. "Sina toa ila lumme a' quend". (This is not the time to speaknow) he said,
firmly. "Nan' amin mernsinta". (But I want knowledge) she said. "Amin laste gwaith quend mela, mani naa' ta"? (I listen to people speak of love,
what be it). "Ta naa' tayver", "Sii' faarea"!(It be feeling, now enough!). He said harshly. She was confused. "Will I ever know this feeling"? She
thought. "One day I will find out what it means, this love".
-----
She heard a "WHO" of a distant owl, and the soft trickling of the nearby brook. Nothing else around her seemed to stir. The stars were brightly shinning
through the large canopy of trees. The night was cool, but she was comfortable near the fire. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a patch of yellow-
like flowers. Figwort! She walked over to the plants, and quickly stripped off the leaves. She wrapped them in a cloth, and then cached them away in her
pack. "Great find", she thought. She was getting pretty low on the little green leaves she liked to use for tea. She checked the area for more, but found
none. It was getting late, and she yawned while preparing her sleeping place. She crawled between the blankets and listened for anything out of the
ordinary, before snuggling down for the night. With everything quiet, she relaxed and slowly drifted off to sleep.
-----
Khy broke camp early the next morning and started back to the village. After arriving home, she went upstairs to her room, stopping to check if Daeghun
had returned. She softly knocked at his bedroom door and called out his name. There was no reply. Sometimes she wondered why Daeghun took her in,
as he didn't seem to like her very much. However, he was all she had, and she clung to whatever piece of himself he was willing to give her. She dropped
her pack on the floor near the door to her room."Damn"! She said, looking down at her arm. One of the leather straps she used to keep her sleeve in
place had broken. She dug through her pack, desperately searching for another thong, and then found one at the bottom. She proceeded to remove her
leather armor and repair the sleeve.
-----
Her thoughts drifted back to the day she had acquired the old set of leathers. She had been digging through the trash pile behind the Starling house
when she came across the discarded armor. She asked Mrs. Starling if she could have it, being told they once belonged to eldest son Lorne and were in
tatters, but if she wanted them, she was welcome. She had been ecstatic with her find, and ran home to try them on. As she looked at herself in the small
mirror, she could tell they were three or four sizes to large. Her small frame looked as though she was drowning in leather armor, but she thought they
were grand. She set about repairing the torn seams and patching the holes, which took weeks. Finally, she had completed the restoration, and excitedly
put them on, securing them with a large belt cinched around her waist. The sleeves hung below her knees, so she adapted by rolling them up and
securing them with leather straps. That was five, no six years ago, and she still wore them. Most everything she owned had come from the trash heaps
around the village, except for her pack.
-----
A few years ago, she had been rummaging through the trash behind Tarmas' house. "Get out of there"! A voice yelled. She turned around to find
Tarmas staring at her. "I'm sorry", she said, "But isn't this trash"? "Come over here"! He said. She walked over to where he was standing. "What do
you want with that"! He said, pointing to the large pile of refuse."I was just looking for something I could use", was all she said. He grunted loudly,
and turned to go back into his house, calling out for her to follow.
-----
She walked slowly into his house, and stood by the door. Careful not to touch anything. "Khy, what are you doing here"? Came the cheerful voice of
Amie Fern. Amie had become Tarmas' ward after her parents died, and was his apprentice in the arcane arts."Well, come in and sit down"! Tarmas
bellowed, "And you girl, get back to your studies". Khy sat down on the floor, afraid to dirty his fine sofa with her filthy leathers. Tarmas then began to
grill her on why she was rooting through garbage. She tried to explain how some of the discarded items could be repaired or refurbished to be of
use. "Such as what", he said. Khy pulled the dagger out of her boot and handed it to him."I found this behind Georg's house, the handle was broken
and the blade was chipped". "I carved a new one, attached it to the hilt, and sharpened the blade". "Not bad" he said "Not bad at all", "You might
be worth something after all". With that, he began to instruct Khy in sorcery.
-----
Khy didn't have any real arcane ability like Amie, but she enjoyed the lore Tarmas taught her, and she developed a knack for reading scrolls. In return, Khy
would collect ingredients for the potions he brewed. Last year he presented her with the pack she now carried."Thank you so very much Tarmas," she
said gratefully."Let's not get sloppy now," He said, "It was just lying around gathering dust". Khy was so excited; she dashed from his house running
into Chandry, knocking him down. Embarrassed, she reached out to help him to his feet, apologizing profusely. Chandry cracked a large smile and laughed
heartily. "You're Daeghun's foster daughter aren't you," he said. She nodded yes."I hear he finally gave up trying to teach you to be a ranger," he
said."Yes" she said, "I wasn't up to the standards, not that he didn't try". "Well", he said,"How would you like to learn a few tricks from this old
man"? Khy knew that Chandry was a rogue of the highest caliber. "I really don't want to steal from anyone," she said. Chandry doubled over
laughing so hard, she had to steady him. When he finally composed himself he said, "There's more to being a rogue than stealing". "There are all
kinds of things I might know that could get you out of a tight situation someday". "How about it"?
-----
Daeghun did not seem too pleased when Khy told him of Chandry's offer, but remained silent. Brother Merring was there visiting with Daeghun, and broke
the tension in the room. "Khy" he said, "You must balance the rogue training with that of the divine". "I don't want to be a cleric" she
said, "They're too stuffy"! "Oh, hells" she thought, "Why did I say that"? Brother Merring broke into a soft smile. "My dear" he said. "I have
always thought that you have been touched by the divine", "A little knowledge on the healing arts, and of protection would be beneficial, would
it not"? She looked over at Daeghun, and felt him relax. "Okay" she said, "But NO praying"!
-----
The past year had actually been a happy one. Chandry and Brother Merring kept her very busy. She didn't have the time to dwell on her thoughts. She
consumed everything Chandry taught her with a hunger she didn't know she had. He taught her stealth, about locks and traps, and special combat
techniques. She learned fast, and begged for more. Brother Merring could not believe how fast her progress elevated in divine casting. "It's like she were
born to do this" he told Daeghun,"Especially since she doesn't pray to any God to channel her power". Things seemed to be going well for Khy. Too
well in fact.