[4] Tale of Neshka: Family of Tusk, Bone and Soul

This is the backstory of my tabletop RPG character. In it, Neshka recounts her tragic past in the world of Pathfinder. Part 4: Family of Tusk, Bone and Soul [Intro: Soft medieval folk] [Sparse lute picking, distant warm harp] [Spoken-word: Intimate, low, dry and conversational] I know what you're waiting for. An elven prince on a white horse? A gentle cleric in spotless silk? [Quiet snort] Look at me. Does my life sound like that kind of story? No. My savior had wrinkled green skin. Two yellow tusks. A crooked nose. And she smelled faintly of sour goat milk and wet hides. [Soft, affectionate laugh] Her name was Gukdalma. And she was the first person who looked at me... and didn't see a monster. [Verse 1: Warm acoustic folk] [Soft melodic female singing, intimate and close] She found me curled beneath a wagon, Half-frozen in the rain. A filthy little creature Who barely looked alive. She wrapped me in a blanket, Put warm food into my hands, And never once asked me What I'd done to deserve it. She didn't flinch at my fingers. She didn't fear my eyes. She simply sat beside me And let the silence lie. [Chorus: Soaring, beautiful, deeply emotional] [Rich vocal harmonies, sweeping cello, harp and warm frame drum] Throw the white bones on the frozen black clay, Teach me the truths that the silent things say! The fair ones saw demons, they recoiled in shame— You gave me a fire and gave me a name! Oh, sing to the spirits that wander the plain, A hearth that will never forsake me again. The world threw away what it couldn't control: I found my own family of tusk, bone and soul. [Verse 2: Warm, slightly more rhythmic] Her clan were outcasts too, Wandering from place to place. Perhaps that's why they understood The look upon my face. They taught me all their stories, Their language and their ways. We traveled from town to town, And earned our keep for days. We told our little stories, Performed our little tricks. Sometimes we showed them things They'd rather not have seen. [Quiet amusement] Those were usually the nights When we earned the most. [Short instrumental breath] And somewhere along the road I learned to laugh again. [Verse 3: Gentle, intimate] They couldn't say Nijalaeda. Too many soft sounds. [Small amused breath] So they gave me something simpler. Neshka. No ceremony. No blessing. No prophecy. Just a name. And somehow... it felt like mine. [Chorus: Warmer, more intimate] Throw the white bones on the frozen black clay, Teach me the truths that the silent things say! The fair ones saw demons, they recoiled in shame— You gave me a fire and gave me a name! Oh, sing to the spirits that wander the plain, A hearth that will never forsake me again. The world threw away what it couldn't control: I found my own family of tusk, bone and soul. [Verse 4: Mystic, darker acoustic folk] [Biwa plucks, delicate harp, low cello drone] Then Gukdalma taught me secrets. Runes. Old rites. Ancient signs. And finally... the bones. She showed me how to read them, How to listen to what they said. How to look between the answers And see the paths ahead. I learned quickly. Too quickly. [Small amused breath] Gukdalma claimed she'd known it all along. I think she was simply a very good teacher. [Verse 5: Building, mysterious] Soon people came to find us. Farmers. Travelers. The desperate and the lost. They came for Gukdalma's wisdom. But sometimes... they stayed for mine. I could see the roads before them. Choices waiting in the dark. Possibilities. Things almost certain. Things that should have been impossible for me to know. And every answer had a price. Sometimes time. Sometimes strength. Sometimes something precious you weren't ready to lose. [Bridge: Delicate harp and cello, voice becomes fragile] But the strangest part was something I could never understand. I could see the futures of everyone who came to me. But when I looked toward my own... [Long pause] ...there was nothing. Only darkness. [Chorus: Grand, soaring climax] Throw the white bones on the frozen black clay, Light up the darkness and carry the day! They feared what I was, but you opened the door, And taught me that I wasn't lost anymore! Oh, sing to the spirits that wander the plain, Wash off the exile, the terror and pain! The world threw away what it couldn't control: I found my own family of tusk, bone and soul! [Outro: Soft lute, fading harp] [Spoken-word: Warm, quiet, reflective] More and more people came. Some left frightened. Some relieved. Some in tears. And some came back. [Pause] Even Gukdalma couldn't explain why my visions were so different from hers. Hers were often uncertain. Mine... [Short pause] ...were frighteningly accurate. [Long pause] Maybe it was my blood. Maybe the hag. Maybe something that had always been inside me. [Pause] Back then, I still wondered. Now... I don't. [Soft breath] I had a family. A purpose. A place in the world. [Long pause] And as long as Gukdalma was alive... I had no reason to look for anything else. [Single unresolved harp note] [Silence]