Zira's story is set in the Forgotten Realms, however, to fit the needs of my story, I've taken plenty of creative licenses. I started writing this story using The Adventurer Solo RPG, a journal entry style writing game. But it's taken on a life of its own, so much so, that even I don't always know what will happen next until I write it. I hope you enjoy reading my story, and feel free to leave any feedback you have. Thanks :)
Note - I have been working on edits, and will note chapters as they've been updated.
Updated 12/19
22nd of Ches
Last night I took my last steps as an acolyte and became a full cleric of Kelemvor. I had the honor of performing The Passing, a simple last rites ceremony, for Darin Rhys. Darin was a beloved local who lived his entire life in Waterdeep. I chanted to Kelemvor asking him to be watchful for Darin's essence. Death comes to us all, and it was his time to depart from this life. Several of my fellow priests stayed to comfort the family. We buried Darin Rhys this morning during the Remembrance.
For the last four years, I've lived at the Church of Kelemvor in Waterdeep learning from Kelemvor's priests. I was drawn to Kelemvor after I died in a block fire when I was fifteen. Living and working with the priests has helped me understand and accept why Kelemvor didn't welcome me in death that day. But I still have nightmares of the fire, trapped under a burning beam, laying there helpless as the flames crept closer…
The experience left me with more than just nightmares. Most of the right side of my face and body is scarred, along with both of my hands. It took almost a year to teach my deformed hands to write again so I could continue my journaling. Because now, more than ever, this journal is the only place where I get to be just me, Zira Townsend. I'm not "That poor girl, look at her face and hands. It's so terrible, you know she survived that block fire a few years back," that people whisper about with pity in their eyes. Nor am I the disfigured freak that people turn away from with fear and disgust in their eyes. It got so bad that I wouldn't leave the house, even after my burns had healed until my parents acquired a hood for me to wear when I went out. Here at the church my fellow priests and clerics have long since learned to overlook my scarring and just see me. But I still always wear my hood whenever I leave the church and cemetery grounds.
Wow, I can feel the exhaustion settling in. Well, I guess it only makes sense, I was awake all night with the Rhys family.
This was my first time leading The Passing. And it just feels natural to write down the words I spoke about Darin Rhys this morning.
The Rhys family has lived in Waterdeep for generations and passed down the secrets of their exquisite wig-making over that time. Darin, a fourth-generation wig maker, retired 20 years ago, leaving the family business to his daughters Cordia Rhys and Tressa Rhys-Armstead. Darin's wife, Vera Rhys, was an accomplished alchemist who went with Kelemvor five years ago. May they reunite in the next life. Darin also served on the city council where he worked to create funding for the city's orphanages. He always said, "All children deserve to be well-fed and cared for." What I'll remember the most about Darin Rhys - he was a man who loved life and inspired everyone around him to spread that love and joy for life and each other.
It really has been a long day, night… I just can't keep it straight anymore. Well, since I was released from all duties for the rest of today, I think I will start by catching up on some much needed sleep.
Z
