The Death of Syglin

From the memories of Skálmöld:

Living on the farmland of my parents, right outside the city of Waterdeep, I’ve experienced my childhood quite happily.

I remember it lively: chasing the chickens, picking ripe gooseberries, making my own goat cheese…
I was born an only child, raised by my caring mother Syglin and my devoted father Frold. Thanks to their unconditional love and guidance, I lived those days without a worry on my mind.

That all changed on the day my father left. He was summoned by the Open Lord of Waterdeep to fight another man’s war.
As time passed, the days grew darker. Though we worked harder than ever, the harvest became more lean with each passing summer.
That was also noticed by Victoro Cassalanter, an important Lord who does the Open Lord's bidding. Accompanied by his legion of guards, he came knocking on our door on a Marpenoth evening. 

I was picking fruit in the orchard while I heard him arguing with my mother. He commanded her to give all our food to the Open Lord's Legion. I believe I heard something about ‘desperate times take desperate measures’. Alerted by this tense conversation, I immediately started running towards the house.
My mother was a righteous woman and stubborn as a crocodile when it came to her livelihood: she proposed to give them a part of our scarce harvest in exchange for a fair price.
Thrown off by her wits, his noble façade started to fade away. Instead, he started blackmailing her. He threatened to have my father killed in the front line by pulling some military strings.
Unimpressed by his attempts of intimidation, she closed the door on him. A peasant woman denying him his prize must have touched a nerve with him.
I almost reached the back of our house when I heard him bashing in the front door. My mother’s screams followed shortly after.
As I finally reached the living room, completely out of breath, I saw her lying on the ground at the feet of the Lord. Unaware of what just happened, my eyes met his, and then my mothers. Only when I noticed her deformed and bloody forehead, I realised he had murdered her.

It was in that particular moment, when I felt my heartbeat slowing down and I was deprived of any emotions at all, that I heard the Whispers for the first time. I spent that moment in some sort of trance, staring at him, taking up every single detail of his face. As he was staring at me in that moment as well, I saw how his facial expression suddenly changed. He looked at me as if he had seen a demon. He almost fell back when he was stumbling anxiously towards the front yard, shouting something at the guards. A reflection I saw of myself in the window, showed me why he reacted as he did. His face had become mine. Seeing this,

I was instantly pulled out of my trance and I screamed while I was trying to scratch my own face off. A sore throat suddenly caught my attention and I couldn’t stop coughing. Thick black smoke accompanied by fire was spreading across the living room. Already affected by the smoke filling my lungs, I started feeling dizzy and fell to my knees. I was crawling towards the back door, when I thought I heard my father’s voice from afar. Then it all went dark. 

I woke up some time later by cool raindrops on my face, in the middle of the night. The farm was burned to the ground and all of our grain silo’s had been emptied. No chicken was left. For some time, I stared into a puddle of water. I was relieved to see my own reflection again, even though my cheeks were scratched bloody. The next few days, I wandered the farm grounds hopelessly in an effort to rebuild what once was my home. As I was roaming closer towards the city, I found something peculiar in the mud on the main road. As I picked it up and removed the dirt, I discovered a brooch in the shape of a raven’s skull. It was the exact same brooch my mother gave to my father the day he left. Hope filled my heart as I looked upon the city gates. I was convinced my father left it on purpose, which also meant he could be in trouble. I decided to sneak into the city and find out where my father could have gone. The city was much larger than I anticipated and it took me months of living in the gutters to finally track him down. I found out he was captured and enslaved as a gladiator as an amusement to the city commoners. One day, I hid in the crowd at the arena and saw him again for the first time in many years. The spectators were cheering as he pierced the heart of his opponent, but I could not share their joy over his victory on this orchestrated battlefield.

Even though he won the fight that day, his eyes were giving away defeat. Among the nobility in the arena, sat Victoro Cassalanter. The Whispers came to me again while I gazed upon his smug face. When I came to Waterdeep, it was out of hope. As it turns out, the city would also be the scenery of my revenge. 

Many years of planning and infiltrating followed. Operating from the shadows, I got entangled in the Black Network and made several deals with The Black Network. I also mastered my ability to change appearance as I took over a position of one of Cassalanters men as Captain, aside of my other persona’s. Though I dare not show my true form.

My goals are clear, yet something still haunts me at times. The Whispers consume my mind with every decision I make. They guide me in opposite directions. It's as if there’s an angel and a demon watching over my shoulder. I’m afraid I might lose my grip over my sanity. After all, sanity is all that stands between good and evil.