portrait of Nibiru Sirius  Enlarge

I was born the youngest into a home of Taathian fire mages, and grew up with five brothers and a pale, elderly grandfather who did little more than swat at me with newspapers and make shadows that looked like animals on the wall to make me giggle when I was small. As I grew older, I began to see that the life of a Taathian fire mage was not appealing to me. I began to slack slightly in my studies at first, failing to study the spell books and sneaking out of my magick classes, and as time passed I dismissed it entirely and began to spend my days in the local tavern, where I befriended the Setite bartender. I don't think it would be right to give his name, but for convenience's sake I'll call him Romali.

My mother, a most avid Taathian, was not at all pleased with my decision to spend my days drinking and gambling, and called me a disgrace to the town. When she screamed, it shook the panes in the windows and her stare was vicious and piercing. I was terrified of her, but I refused to change my behavior, and began spending even more time at the tavern.Sometimes my father, who was a bit of a clumsy mage himself, would join me and my bartender friend in our telling of tall tales and gambling. I don't know why such a smart, quietly manipulative man would have married my psychotic mother. I think it was perhaps because she liked... intimacy... and my father liked children so I suppose you could call it an even trade. My brothers took after my razor-sharp, hot tempered mother, though we got along reasonably well, and I like to think I take after my laid-back, introspective father. Whether or not that is true is a matter of opinion.As a result of my decisions, I quickly ran out of money, and my mother refused to support me and my whiskey. I believe I was 16 at the time. One night as I was most intoxicated and lamenting to Romali, he shooed out the drunks and shut and bolted the door. From there he opened a trapdoor behind the bar and took my hand as he led me down the stairs into a room where shadows danced along the ceiling and the room was so dark even I could not tell where space ended and walls began. Several beings talked quietly about bribing knights, minting fake coins, breaking into buildings, and other subjects that were always considered taboo in my little community.

"Nibi," he said, "have you ever considered the fact that some people have more than they need?"

I pondered this.

Romali went on to tell me of rich nobles living in faraway lands who squandered their money on vacations to sandy beaches and hundreds of silk dresses and had servants to make sure they were always content. He asked me what I thought about that.

I said I thought that sounded awfully nice.

From there it seemed he led me through a wall and into a dark, mossy, smelly part of town I was always told to stay away from, as I did not want to associate myself with "Those People". I glanced at my friend warily and told him that I had better things to do than to walk among these street ruffians.

He sighed and led me onward.

We walked in silence for perhaps a half hour until we came upon a house- well, I suppose it could sort of pass for a house. It was a large board, perhaps as tall and wide as a tree that was too large to be a sapling but too small to be a tree, leaned up against a building. There were dirty silk curtains pinned over the openings.

He gestured for me to go onwards, and I ducked my head and entered the shack. Inside there was a mess of blankets, a small opal figurine of a snake, and some bread that looked like it had been stolen from the tavern.

I turned around and said to him, "Someone actually lives here?"

Romali smiled weakly and said, "Welcome to my home."

I was flabbergasted. I couldn't believe that my friend, the man who gave me food and let me sleep at the tavern when I was too stubborn to go home, the man who had taken me fishing, the man who had taught me to spit over a river and whistle with two fingers, who I had shared memories both happy and unhappy over jiggers of cheap whiskey... was one of them.I sat down hard, and nearly tipped over the "wall" of his little lean-to. He caught it with a suprising grace and sat next to me. For the next... perhaps five hours, he told me of the catastrophic things that happen to the people that no one cares about, how they are abused and exploited by the upper class. As the sun rose, I drifted off into a restless sleep as my he sat with his hand barely touching the small of my back, and an expression on his face that was half relief and half defeat.

When I woke up, Romali was gone- probably back at the tavern opening up for the day's business before his boss arrived and reprimanded him for closing early the night before.I glanced into a puddle of murky water outside the shack at my dirty face and mussed hair, dismissed it, and began back to the tavern. I was used to the residents of this area looking at me with contempt in their eyes when we would happen to run across each other, but today they smiled and nodded in greeting.

From then on, he began to teach me the basics of thievery and manipulation. We would walk the crowded streets of the market, and I would strike up idle conversation with the men there, and he silently pulled coins from their pockets. Eventually I began to pocket coins myself, at first pocket change, and then larger amounts of gold. I kept enough to have a very comfortable life, and gave what I didn't need away. He continued to live in his shanty. I never really understood why. I studied under him for perhaps four years.

One day, as we were sitting over drinks discussing an upcoming peddle, he glanced at the brand of a vulture on my neck and asked it had any meaning to me. I laughed and said "Of course not, it is a hand-me-down from my mother." I had expected him to chuckle, but instead he frowned, and motioned for me to follow him.He led me through the now familiar trapdoor, and through the shadows. As I started for the entrance to the poor quarter, he guided me towards a small hole I had never before noticed.I gasped when I saw what was inside- the altar of Set. I stared, slack-jawed, hypnotized by the silvery glow coming from the altar and the whispers that danced around my ears, but wouldn't enter them and remained indistinct.

I glanced at him and he nodded slightly. With that, I began to renounce Taath, but before the words even left my mouth, a blazing heat shredded through my body, and quickly turned to a pain that rivals no other. I heard a voice boom inside my head with such a force I feared my face would shatter, "Born into fire, and you shall die by fire. You have failed."

I grabbed my head and fell to my knees, where I lost consciousness. I was sure I was dead. As I felt myself spinning into a bottomless black vortex threatening to pull me apart, I screamed within myself for help, not knowing who I was screaming to and knowing exactly what I was doing at the same time. A feeling of serenity came over me. I opened my eyes and saw nothing but gray. As I lay there I felt strength flow back into me and when the fog dissipated everything seemed clearer. The mark of the vulture was gone, and a new mark- that of a snake with no head or tail- replaced it. I touched my neck curiously.With a new sense of power and belonging, we went back to the tavern and discussed Setite philosophy over jiggers of whiskey, and I stumbled home at dawn in a blissful, drunken stupor.I walked into my house and ran face first into my mother, nearly knocking her over. She looked at me with disgust, and then rage, as she noticed the mark on my neck. She began to scream in Eldari and she held her hands up to the sky. A huge fireball formed in her hands and she hurled it upwards into the air as it grew in size and intensity. She screamed more curses in Eldari, and then, finally understanding that I had forgotten every word I had every learned in that language since I ceased my studies, she held the fireball over her head and stared at me with glowing red eyes.

"GET... OUT.... NOW."

I turned and ran away so fast I tore up divots in the ground, and felt the skin on my ankles burn and rise up into watery blisters as the fireball landed just behind me. I ran for hours in no particular direction with no thoughts running through my head except the piercing shards of panic.I eventually came to a muddy river where I collapsed on the bank into a dreamless sleep. When I awoke it was dark.I heard the creaking of my bones and could feel my tense muscles refuse to give as I struggled to my feet. Having no idea where I was or from what direction I had come from, I decided my best option was to follow the river and hope I stumbled across civilization.

I wandered for almost a week until I stumbled upon what I now know is Meetpoint, and from there I was given directions to Spur. I imagine I looked like a fright, and I'm suprised some secian didn't try to turn me. I stole enough money to buy myself a loaf of bread and a few jiggers of whiskey at the Rose Eternal tavern, and from there cleaned up and began to make a new life for myself.

I would like to go back to see my father and my friend, I'm sure if I gave my name to someone in the administration district they could tell me how to get back from where I came. I'd rather not deal with the Odarians though. Perhaps I will when I hear of my mother's death. I half expect my father to show up in Spur one day, the wench was always on the verge of throwing him out too. Sometimes I see bits of my mother in me when I get angry, but all they are are bits, and they fade quickly.I still drink occasionally, not as much as I used to. I don't really have anyone to drink with as most of my friends don't drink, and the ones that do act strange and not at all happy when they are intoxicated. I suppose it's for the better.I am doing quite well currently. I try my best to keep my sense of humor and wits about me. I have good friends, good weapons, quick hands, and a healthy bank account, and I cause more than my fair share of trouble. I try my best to do what Set wills.

Respectfully submitted on 4/12/312-

Nibiru Sirius

Copyright 2007 — The Dragon's Gate Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.