Araneigh

Age: 22

Alliance: Neutral

Appearance
Araneigh is a tall, slender woman, with pale skin. Her hair, which is usually up in a ponytail, is primarily raven black, but has long streaks of both red and silver. She wears well traveled clothes, with light gloves and a cloak. Her face is soft with pale green eyes, however, she walks as if burdened well beyond her years.

Personality
Araneigh is generally a kind, hospitable person. She is full of compassion and connects with people's plight. However, she is usually withdrawn slightly from those around her.

Backstory
A small, leather book lies before you on a table. Your curiosity is piqued, and you pick it up. The cover is rough in your hands, and as you open it you can't help but notice that the book is falling apart, from age or poor make you know not. The first page is unadorned, except for a two lines. The first simply says“Araneigh's Diary,” in faded ink and with a childish scrawl. Underneath it is a new line, written elegantly, with fanciful loops and embellishments. “The Journal, Memoir, and Last Will of Dr. Araneigh Kelly.” As you fan through the book, you can't help but notice that the book has many, many of its pages replaced with a thin, near transparent paper, almost as if someone ran out of room before they were done, and added to the book, rather than do the sensible thing and get a new one. Glancing at the clock and realizing you have plenty of time before your friend arrives, you flip back to the beginning, turn the page, and begin to read.

Year 8 A.K.T. The forty-eighth day of the second season. Today is my birthday! I am really happy that Mommy and Daddie gave this book to me, I love them so much! Daddie was telling me something about how I should write the date before each entry. But he was being sooooo boring, and I did not pay very close attention, and now I can not remember how to do it. So, instead, I came up with my own way of doing it. I figure that I can never forget my birthday, so when I was born is Year 0! Daddie is also a farmer, so I know the seasons, so I use that for the days! I think Daddie mentioned months, but I do not really know how those work, so I left them out. I hope that they are not important.

[You grimace slightly. The childish writing and multitude of grammar errors and inefficiencies almost literally pain you. You shake yourself slightly, and then scan the following entries, looking for interesting or important things. You see some nonsense about how even though daddy is daddy, daddy is forever Daddie. You give up on that and move on.]

Year 9 A.K.T. The tenth day of the third season. I am sorry that I have not been able to write for a while. Mommy and I came down with the scourge fever. I do not remember very well, I think I slept a lot. I do remember feeling really, really bad and coughing a lot. I am also kind of scared for us. I heard Mommy and Daddie in the other room whispering. They think I can not hear them when the whisper, but they do not know that I have been gifted with good ears. Daddie was saying that he was afraid that something bad would happen to Mommy and I. I did not hear what he said exactly. But that is enough to scare me. Daddie has never been afraid. Whatever he said, it must be very bad to make Daddie afraid. I am thinking that it is worse than closet monsters or even cellar shadows. I would not like to meet this thing.

[This particular entry stands out to you, simply because there is a small drawing attached to it. The parchment that the drawing is on is clipped in, added later. It depicts a brain, with some regions circled and a very curious shorthand on it. Although you can't understand it, the writing matches a more hurried form of the elegant writing on the front page.]

Year 10 A.K.T. The twenty-ninth day of the first season. Today, Daddie told me that we are moving. I'm not sure how I feel about it, since we have lived in this house for my entire life! My friends live hear too, and I don't know if I'll ever see them again. That makes me really sad. I don't even know why we are moving, Daddie wouldn't tell me, and when I asked Mommy, she said to ask Daddie. Of course, I didn't want to ask Daddie again, he was busy putting things from the barn into crates. I watched him through the upstairs window for a while when he did this, as I'm not allowed into the barn, and have always wondered what was in there. Even now, when it's dark, I can still see the light from the barn, I think Daddie is still moving things. I don't know what all the rush is. [Among other things, you notice that the writer finally learned how to use contractions. Thank the heavens.]

Year 14 A.K.T. The forty-seventh day of the second season. Well, I give my most sincere apologies for not writing for over four years. I unfortunately lost this book in our move to the mountains, only to find it in a box today. It must have slipped in as I climbed over them as we unpacked. Mother and Daddie were out on their anniversary celebration, so I was rustling around in some of the attic boxes when I found this. A lot has happened over the last few years, and I can't even hope to recount it all here. I will try, though, to summarize the basics. First of all, I've finally grown to be taller than Mother. This only happened recently, and I was overjoyed when it happened. Next, my naturally raven hair has developed long streaks of red and silvery blonde. Mother has, of course, come up with a fanciful reason for this, saying that just as her hairs have turned grey as she has aged, my hairs are changing color to match the youth of my body but also the development of my mind. I personally think that it has something to do with the multitude of exotic plants that grow on the mountain side. We sometimes go and pick these to add to our meager diets. As well, we often go and drink from a spring high on the mountain. Daddie says this spring is why we moved here, since it supposedly aids Mother's failing health. According to legend a god fell from the sky here. He was badly injured, but a human family nursed him back to health. As a thanks, he blessed them with prosperity, and gave them a healing spring. In my opinion, that legend is just that, a legend. Miss Turley agrees with me. Miss Turley is the only person I have seen other than Mother and Daddie for the last four years. She is an old friend of Daddie's. She comes and tutors me three days a week in various subjects, including math, science, and music. I guess she's okay. She knows a lot about botany and that sort of thing. It's really lonely up here, even though I do enjoy Miss Turley's company.

[You skip a few more entries, as they contain nothing but day to day activities and such. The page you stop on is wrinkled from damp, and instead of the ink, the crumbly marks of a graphite pencil remain on the page.]

Year 15 A.K.T. The thirty-first day of the fourth season. I write this as I run up to the mountain spring. Can't elaborate. Something's wrong, Daddie sent me up to the spring to get water, will write later.

Year 15 A.K.T. The thirty-second day of the fourth season. I shall proceed to explain yesterday's hurried entry. It was mid-afternoon yesterday, and it was raining hard. Something strange came over us, then, and Mother fainted. I myself wasn't feeling to well, but Daddie told me to run as fast as I could to the spring. I did so, clenching a cup in my teeth as ran and wrote. I hastily filled the cup and brought it back down as quickly as I could, fear propelling me faster than I would ever believe. Mother is okay now, but she is still pretty sick. Miss Turley told me that it may be a result of the scourge fever she had years and years ago. I would hope not, it would be a calamity to still be having effects from that disease.

[This further mention of the scourge fever catches your eye. You could have sworn you'd heard of it before. You can't pin it down though, so you move on.]

Year 16 A.K.T. The third day of the first season. Miss Turley has been trying to pass down her skill at botany to me. I wouldn't say I am particularly good at it, but everyone else thinks I have a gift. I much prefer gears and machines. However, Daddie really wants me to be a doctor, and I am inclined to please him. I suppose I should apply myself to both equally.

Year 17 A.K.T. The forty-eighth day of the second season. Daddie told me today that he thinks it is time for me to leave our home. He says that I need to move to the city with Miss Turely and complete my education from some of the great teachers. I kind of agree with him, but I am afraid. I don't like fear, and normally I don't get to afraid, but I haven't met anyone new for almost 8 years.... I hope the gods are with me.

Year 18 A.K.T. The nineteenth day of the first season. Things are so different in the city. There's so many people, and so many books. This, amidst all of the chaos and business, still ties me down. However, nothing quite can compare to the serenity of our home in the mountains, where I could truly be immersed in a book. Oh, the hours I have spent looking for a peaceful spot to read, and the days I have spent actually reading in those spots, coveting every second of the time. Often I move through the highest rafters of the library here, to escape from the hustle and to smell hundreds of books unopened for many years. Ah, but enough of my ramblings. In the last year I have enrolled in one of the academies here to become a mechanist. The night will often find me covered in soot and ash from the great foundries. I have not yet decided on a specialty yet, but Miss Turley wants me to become a Master of the Armory. I, however, believe fighting and war to be most distasteful, and would be at loss if I found myself having anything to do with them.

Year 18 A.K.T. The sixty-fourth day of the third season. A great plague has struck the city. An epidemic, one might call it. I don't really know the details, but all of the science related students have been tasked with helping organize relief. I often come back to my room feeling as though a great shackle has been fastened to my heart, binding me to the people that I have been working with for the last few weeks. I, who was sheltered for so long, to now have someone's despair of losing their entire family crashing down on me is nigh overwhelming. How can people, so high and mighty, just pass by a fellow man, suffering from an unknown disease that robs him of all but a few, precious, precious moments. I want to help them. I need to help them. All I can think about, day in and day out, is this cursed disease that afflicts the city, striking down indiscriminately. And so, I went out today, and swore to devote myself to become an apothecary. Not one to sit patiently as people's lives pass like a river, but one to dive into the current, and fight against it, drawing as many as possible out.

[The next dozen or so entries detail efforts to ease the suffering of those afflicted by the plague. You find it odd that nowhere can you find mention of the name or nature of the plague, only that it comes fast and kills swiftly.]

Year 20 A.K.T. The first day of the fourth season. Winter has arrived in full force. Luckily, whatever spreads this cursed plague seems to slow down in the winter. On the flip side, winter brings its own challenges to the impoverished side of this hole. Most of the housing quickly constructed to get out of plague infested building. However, quickly constructed things tend to not be very warm. I got kicked out of academy housing recently, after bringing some of the homeless to shelter, but I have managed to secure a reasonable building nearby where I do a lot of my work. The children come, to play and stay warm. My only pay as of now is to know that there are six less people dying tonight, even though I may miss a few meals, or lose a night of sleep to the cold. I have enjoyed my time of comfort and peace, now I would gladly give up anything to give someone else that as well.

Year 20 A.K.T. The thirtieth day of the fourth season. A child by the name of Brayline has recently come into my care. Even though the worst storm of the winter has come to pass, he still remains at my house. I have no clue who his parents are, if they are still alive. I had never seen him before one of the other students that assists me sometimes dropped him off at my sanctuary. It will be a challenge, I suppose to figure out what to do with him. I love him more than anything, for his is a picture of innocence and hope among this storm, but let me be honest, I know nothing about parenting, and I have nothing in terms of wealth. For now, I suppose, I shall just make sure nothing too bad happens to him. On a side note, I will be graduating soon from the academy, with a degree in medicine, with a side of clockwork mechanics.

[As you flip the page, a newspaper clipping falls out. It is old and yellowed, and it reeks of lead ink. You look at it curiously, as it doesn't seem to frame any story in particular. Turning it around however, you are faced with the headlines, “LOCAL STUDENT STOPS RAMPAGING ARSON.” The rest of the article, however, is blocked out by one, bold face word. “Lies.]

Year 21 A.K.T. The twenty-fifth day of the first season. Yesterday morning I left the life I had established in [The name of the city is smudged out]. I have exiled myself, for I have done something that I, at least, could not let go of. Even now, it pains my heart to think of it. Just over three weeks ago, I had left one of my assistants in charge of the children in my sanctuary, as I went and bought some groceries. As I headed back towards my building, I could see a pillar of smoke, rising from the area where my sanctuary was located. This got me into a panic, so I started to run towards my building, hoping, praying, pleading with the gods to not let it be mine. I knocked over and old man on my way, but the thought of stopping didn't even cross my mind. When I arrived, the scene was a blaze of fire and ashes. From what I gathered, it had just erupted, suddenly, and no one made it out. At that point, I lost it. My life had just been broken, but more then that, the lives of children and been torn out of their hands. I don't remember what happened after that. I suppose I discovered that it was the work of an arson, and since he had already bloodied his hands, I would bloody mine. The next thing I remember was being in an old building, the arson unconscious before me, drugged into a slumber, and I had an intent to kill. But I didn't just kill him, I made him suffer. I, once a champion for the lost, was brutalizing a man, using my own skills to keep him on the edge of death, just so he could suffer as I did. And now, it destroys me to admit it, but I enjoyed his pain. At every scream I shuddered in joy, and at every cry I was flooded with ecstasy. After three days, I came to my senses, and was horrified with what I had done. Even now, I can not bear to look at my own face. But, after I came to my senses, I ended his life quickly, and turned myself in. But the judge would not hear my story. I was acquitted and hailed as a hero for what I had done, since no one would listen to the true nature of my deeds. Oh, what a perversion of justice I have become. I feel that fate spits in my face, as even now I can feel it, that desire for pain, within. And thus, I exiled myself, for how can I stay around others that I love when I know what lurks beneath?