[9] Tale of Neshka: The Roads Between

⟬ 𝑮 𝒓 𝒐 𝒘 𝒍 ⟭

folk, cinematic, medieval fantasy

This is the backstory of my tabletop RPG character. In it, Neshka recounts her tragic past in the world of Pathfinder.

Part 9 The Roads Between

[Intro – spoken, intimate]
Two years.

That was how long it had been
since my clan fell silent.

Every year, on that day,
the memories returned.

The laughter.
The voices.
The faces I could no longer see.

I still carried Korga's little wooden wolf.
Its edges had grown smooth in my hands,
but I had never let it go.

Sometimes, I held it
when the memories became too much.

Bahl never promised me everything would be alright.
He simply stayed.

And little by little,
I learned to breathe again.

Then I walked on.

[Verse 1 – quiet, flowing]
Spring softened the roads.
Summer brought the warmth.
Autumn turned the forests gold.
Winter taught me to wait.

I learned to hide my hands,
lower my eyes,
and recognize when fear turned into cruelty.

But people will forgive almost anything
if you tell them what tomorrow holds.

So I worked as a fortune teller again.
A few coins, a meal,
sometimes a place to sleep.

I listened to their questions
and learned that people rarely
wanted to know the future.

They wanted to know
that there was still one waiting for them.

[Chorus – gentle, gradually opening]
And the seasons changed,
and the years drifted by.
Green turned to gold,
and snow fell from the sky.

I kept moving,
with the raven overhead.
The world was a mystery,
and I wasn't finished with it yet.

[Verse 2 – warmer, lightly amused]
There were strange days, too.

Once, a deer stole my clothes,
and I spent hours chasing it,
stark naked.

Bahl thought it was hilarious.
I was furious.

[Laughing]
I found abandoned villages,
forgotten toys,
and things I kept for no reason.

Once, a child asked if I was a witch.
I said, “Perhaps.”

She wasn't afraid of my eyes
or my claws.
She only wanted to see a little magic.

So I made a light dance
above my palm.

She laughed.
And I carried that sound for miles.

[Verse 3 – evolving, more confident]
Year after year,
I learned the ways of the road:
where to find shelter before a storm,
when to trust a stranger,
when it was time to leave.

I learned about herbs and old stories,
and sensed the magic
hidden in forgotten things.

Bahl taught me without words.
Curiosity.
Caution.
Joy.

Feelings passed between us.
I learned to listen.

Sometimes he flew ahead,
a black shape against the clouds.
Sometimes he stayed beside me
until the loneliness passed.

I learned to understand his silences.
And slowly,
I learned to understand my own.

[Chorus – fuller, warm and adventurous]
The seasons came and went,
the years slipped away.
I found new roads
beneath a changing sky.

I slept beneath the open sky
or paid for warmth indoors.
The world was wide.
There was still so much to see.

And for a while,
that was enough for me.

[Bridge – music softens, intimate]
Then Bahl showed me something new.

An invitation passed from him to me.
I held out my hand,
and blackness gathered in my palm.

Then came other things:
a faint sense of dark magic.

I wanted to know more.

For a while,
I believed I was ready.

[Music darkens; instrumentation thins]
Then one evening,
I reached for something deeper.

Darkness spread across the ground,
thick and silent, without a shape or edge.

And suddenly,
I was back at the camp.

Empty tents.
My family, gone.

[Whispered]
No.

I broke the spell.

The darkness receded.

But the voice was already waiting.

Silent for so many years,
it whispered—

then screamed.

Older than words.
So close that my bones ached.

I heard my clan again.
Their fear.
Their voices.
The silence afterward.

And Bahl was afraid, too.

Not of me.

For me.

[Chorus – restrained, dark]
Close the door.
Let the darkness die.

I don't want to know
what waits inside.

I've come too far
to lose myself again.

Some roads lead forward.
Some should end.

Not again.

[Verse 4 – quiet, gradually warming]
I stopped digging deeper.

No more darkness.
No more questions
that led me back to that night.

I kept the magic I knew:
light, warmth,
small things that asked for nothing.

Bahl never pushed me.
He stayed by my side,
as he always had.

And the voice grew quiet again.

Not gone.
Never gone.

But quiet enough
for me to keep walking.

So I did.

Spring came.
Summer passed.
Autumn faded.
Winter returned.

And then it all began again.

The years blurred into one another.
I crossed forests and fields,
watched villages rise and empty,
met strangers and lost them again,
carrying their stories with me.

Some winters were harsh.
Some summers beautiful.
Sometimes lonely.
Sometimes almost happy.

And little by little,
the world grew larger
than the memory of what I had lost.

[Final Chorus – bright, open, forward-moving]
And the seasons changed,
and the years drifted by.
I stopped counting every road,
every loss, every goodbye.

I had learned to keep walking,
to look ahead.

I was one hundred and nine years old
before I realized how far I'd come.

For an elf,
that was barely a beginning.
Then one day, in Sandpoint, near the Lost Coast, I heard a woman arguing with the guards.
She was loud.
They were tired.
I should have kept walking.

[Soft, amused breath]
I didn't.
Bahl gave a warning croak behind me.
I looked at her.
Curiosity stirred.
Oh, Bahl. What have I gotten myself into?
I couldn't know this moment would change everything.

5349/7500

This is the backstory of my tabletop RPG character. In it, Neshka recounts her tragic past in the world of Pathfinder. Part 9 The Roads Between [Intro – spoken, intimate] Two years. That was how long it had been since my clan fell silent. Every year, on that day, the memories returned. The laughter. The voices. The faces I could no longer see. I still carried Korga's little wooden wolf. Its edges had grown smooth in my hands, but I had never let it go. Sometimes, I held it when the memories became too much. Bahl never promised me everything would be alright. He simply stayed. And little by little, I learned to breathe again. Then I walked on. [Verse 1 – quiet, flowing] Spring softened the roads. Summer brought the warmth. Autumn turned the forests gold. Winter taught me to wait. I learned to hide my hands, lower my eyes, and recognize when fear turned into cruelty. But people will forgive almost anything if you tell them what tomorrow holds. So I worked as a fortune teller again. A few coins, a meal, sometimes a place to sleep. I listened to their questions and learned that people rarely wanted to know the future. They wanted to know that there was still one waiting for them. [Chorus – gentle, gradually opening] And the seasons changed, and the years drifted by. Green turned to gold, and snow fell from the sky. I kept moving, with the raven overhead. The world was a mystery, and I wasn't finished with it yet. [Verse 2 – warmer, lightly amused] There were strange days, too. Once, a deer stole my clothes, and I spent hours chasing it, stark naked. Bahl thought it was hilarious. I was furious. [Laughing] I found abandoned villages, forgotten toys, and things I kept for no reason. Once, a child asked if I was a witch. I said, “Perhaps.” She wasn't afraid of my eyes or my claws. She only wanted to see a little magic. So I made a light dance above my palm. She laughed. And I carried that sound for miles. [Verse 3 – evolving, more confident] Year after year, I learned the ways of the road: where to find shelter before a storm, when to trust a stranger, when it was time to leave. I learned about herbs and old stories, and sensed the magic hidden in forgotten things. Bahl taught me without words. Curiosity. Caution. Joy. Feelings passed between us. I learned to listen. Sometimes he flew ahead, a black shape against the clouds. Sometimes he stayed beside me until the loneliness passed. I learned to understand his silences. And slowly, I learned to understand my own. [Chorus – fuller, warm and adventurous] The seasons came and went, the years slipped away. I found new roads beneath a changing sky. I slept beneath the open sky or paid for warmth indoors. The world was wide. There was still so much to see. And for a while, that was enough for me. [Bridge – music softens, intimate] Then Bahl showed me something new. An invitation passed from him to me. I held out my hand, and blackness gathered in my palm. Then came other things: a faint sense of dark magic. I wanted to know more. For a while, I believed I was ready. [Music darkens; instrumentation thins] Then one evening, I reached for something deeper. Darkness spread across the ground, thick and silent, without a shape or edge. And suddenly, I was back at the camp. Empty tents. My family, gone. [Whispered] No. I broke the spell. The darkness receded. But the voice was already waiting. Silent for so many years, it whispered— then screamed. Older than words. So close that my bones ached. I heard my clan again. Their fear. Their voices. The silence afterward. And Bahl was afraid, too. Not of me. For me. [Chorus – restrained, dark] Close the door. Let the darkness die. I don't want to know what waits inside. I've come too far to lose myself again. Some roads lead forward. Some should end. Not again. [Verse 4 – quiet, gradually warming] I stopped digging deeper. No more darkness. No more questions that led me back to that night. I kept the magic I knew: light, warmth, small things that asked for nothing. Bahl never pushed me. He stayed by my side, as he always had. And the voice grew quiet again. Not gone. Never gone. But quiet enough for me to keep walking. So I did. Spring came. Summer passed. Autumn faded. Winter returned. And then it all began again. The years blurred into one another. I crossed forests and fields, watched villages rise and empty, met strangers and lost them again, carrying their stories with me. Some winters were harsh. Some summers beautiful. Sometimes lonely. Sometimes almost happy. And little by little, the world grew larger than the memory of what I had lost. [Final Chorus – bright, open, forward-moving] And the seasons changed, and the years drifted by. I stopped counting every road, every loss, every goodbye. I had learned to keep walking, to look ahead. I was one hundred and nine years old before I realized how far I'd come. For an elf, that was barely a beginning. Then one day, in Sandpoint, near the Lost Coast, I heard a woman arguing with the guards. She was loud. They were tired. I should have kept walking. [Soft, amused breath] I didn't. Bahl gave a warning croak behind me. I looked at her. Curiosity stirred. Oh, Bahl. What have I gotten myself into? I couldn't know this moment would change everything.

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