Vintah’s Story and Lonja Dump

I THINK it’s safe to say Cheuk and I will never play D&D again, or at least not for a loooooooooooooong time, so Vintah’s existence is kinda moot, but now that we’re letting the Captured RP turn into it’s own headcanon universe I figured I may as well include her in it. I like her and I think her presence makes it more believable that Lonja never ran away in the whole of her 25 years she lived with Loucef. Anyway, here’s that and also I tried to collect all the images of Lonja as I could find just for my own personal reference since they’re scattered all over my blog, DA, Gaia threads, PMs and emails @_@. I also drew a few new pictures of her too! ^__^

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“I am better than you!” Those are the words that rang in Vintah’s pointed ears, the most obviously elven part of her anatomy. Being half human her linage was ambiguous until she tucked her shiny black brown waves behind her ears. The young woman forced herself to concentrate, her eyes never leaving the prize she sought: a purse filled to the brim with coins hanging just beyond her reach out of the sack of the traveler making his way down the path that edged the forest in which she had been hiding.

It felt wrong, taking what was very likely this man’s entire savings, or at least a payment for an enormous task, probably months of labor, if not years. “Even if it is wrong, it’s better than what Loucef would do to him. I’ll take his coins and be done, leaving him free to go his merry way,” she told herself. Although it would undoubtedly be less merry once he discovered how she had helped herself to his belongings, she was forced to acknowledge.

Vintah scuttled from the underbrush to the safety of the velvety shadows of the foliage, the waning evening light adding a gracious veil of twilight haze to her cover. She was silent as she snaked her way alongside the traveler, his huffing and swallowing from the long journey deafening him to any sound she might have made. She wore brushed leather boots that slid along the forest floor as she avoided crunching leaves beneath her feet. Her burgundy tunic blended in with the turning colors of the autumn leaves, her elven heritage dwarfing her otherwise human stature to that of a mere five foot three inches, meaning all she needed to do was crouch to be concealed completely. Rather than thinking of herself as only half elf or half human, she liked to think she was a genetic alloy of the best of both.

“Loucef would have knocked him out by now, dragged him home and locked him up, never again to be a free man. Loucef would have sold him to the highest bidder, some cruel tyrant who would work him until his last breath, or–” Vintah studied the man, his features glowing in the fading pink light, his face glistening with sweat and slightly flushed from exertion. “His type would probably be spared the hard labor. Depending on his attitude he’d probably get swept up by Dezamond,” she thought. Dezamond was Loucef’s most reliable customer. Apparently she had many uses for handsome young men. Or perhaps only one use, and she valued quantity over quality. It had been seven years since Vintah had last seen Dezamond, but she had little reason to believe the woman had given up any of her habits.

“Concentrate!” Vintah commanded herself, memories flooding back against her will, clouding her focus. Memories of Dezamond’s perfume, her sultry eyes, her payment of heavy coins clinking into Loucef’s waiting hand. His indulgent smile, his cordial dialogue, his gentlemanly mannerisms as he handed over a once free man into slavery. Vintah’s stomach churned as she thought about it, a sick feeling overcoming her. Dezamond’s “companions” never lived after she was finished with them. Her older brother, a known lunatic and sadist, was allowed to pit them against one another in vicious duels as soon as they had served Dezamond’s purposes. Selling a man to Dezamond was condemning him to death, though few knew about the woman’s morbid secrets. But Loucef knew. He knew, and he sold them anyway. Vintah steadied her breathing, her heart rate having accelerated in spite of herself. That was why it was all right to take this man’s money, why she could sleep at night after buying herself food and a bed while he’d probably go hungry and sleep under the stars until he could earn it back. She may be a thief but she was no slaver, no murderer. She was better than Loucef and she always would be.

She had said as much the last time they’d had to endure each other’s presence. Vintah had lived with Loucef and his sister, Lonja, for twelve horrible years and at the age of eighteen she had finally had more than she could endure. A cousin, the only cousin of age to be considered a guardian, Loucef had adopted Vintah when she was six years old, after both her parents and Loucef’s parents had perished in a skirmish with pirates while travelling across the Sea of Fallen Stars. Together the families were going to see about a venture regarding trade between their native land of Cormyr and the land of Chondath but such was never to be. Their ship was plundered and the passengers held for ransom. Unable to pay what they asked, Loucef and Vintah’s parents had been killed. Lonja, only a toddler at the time, was looked after by Vintah, though there wasn’t much a six year old could do. Loucef, the child of his parent’s youth, was eighteen years old, and he refused to have much to do with the little girls whom he suddenly found his responsibility.

Loucef was often asleep during the morning and early afternoon, leaving home at dusk and staying out until the early hours of the dawn. Vintah was around ten years old, as best she could figure, when she began to finally understand what it was that Loucef did to put bread on the table. Not only was slave trading a horrific practice, it was also illegal, and Vintah told Loucef so, in no uncertain terms. She remembers the smile her cousin shot her, the grin he always wore as he shook his head which seemed to imply that he was thinking “I should have figured.”

“Vintah, an honest girl like yourself has no business in matters like these,” he pulled her close to him, his trim blond beard scratching her cheek as he whispered into her ear “Laws tell men how they ought to live, but that doesn’t change how men want to live, you understand? I’m simply providing a service to the people of Cormyr that the law doesn’t take into consideration. But if you only knew the demand, little cousin, you’d say it’s a crime not to give these people exactly what they want.”

Vintah watched him, his twinkling green eyes gleaming with greed as they met her golden ones. Vintah’s mouth went dry and she wondered how it was possible for the two of them to be related. He was a man of pure elf blood, while she was only half, yet she possessed many more qualities of the light hearted, nature loving people than he. As the years passed Vintah became more conscious of Loucef’s practice, the man becoming something of a blackmarket household name. On many occasions she even found herself an unwitting conspirator as he would bring her along on “deliveries” to his clients to allay suspicion. By the age of fourteen Vintah had taken to committing petty thefts from the owners of Loucef’s slaves. It was her way of feeling like she’d washed her hands of the affair. She may have been forced to help them purchase a slave but she’d at least get even by stealing away something they found precious.

She had tried to tell herself it was the slaves’ own fault they got captured, kidnapped off of the streets. If they hadn’t been travelling down a certain road, if they’d brought along enough weapons, if they’d simply been more aware, this wouldn’t have happened to them. But eventually not even Vintah believed her own lies. Innocent victims were being trafficked right in her own home and she was doing nothing about it. Carefully, Vintah began to plan her departure. Over the course of the next four years Vintah kept careful notes, the passwords uttered under Loucef’s breath to enter an official’s estate through the back entrance, the aliases men and women of high society used to purchase slaves, the exact payments of each and the date it occurred. She memorized the routes the carriages took in the dark, the methods of payment depending on the customer, and the dialect Loucef used with each. Then, with painstaking care, Vintah crafted each blackmail letter, the evidence stacked up against all of Loucef’s clients so thick it would have been impossible to deny it. All Vintah needed to do was get as far away from Loucef as possible before sending the letters and then she could sit back and comfortably await her payments. Or so she had thought, until the day Loucef confronted her, his rage masked with a facade of cynical praise.

“You were this close to destroying my entire enterprise,” he grinned at her, pinching the air between his fingers. He paced the length of the room, as Vintah sat, statuesque, on the edge of her chair. Only her narrowed eyes moved as she watched him stride across the floor. How had he found out? How had he known what she had been planning? She’d been so careful. “Every one of my most loyal clients, almost undone by a shrew of a girl,” Loucef turned then, his eyes flashing with genuine confusion and hurt. “Vintah, haven’t I always taken care of you? Haven’t I always provided for you? When I could have left you out on the street, I took you in, adopted you, shared with you everything I have. Even when you found out about my trade I kept you here, safe, no matter the liability you posed for me. You’re no stunner, but you’re pretty in your own way, and fairly bright. A girl like you would have been easy to place, the demand is always there. But I didn’t, I let you stay here, supplied for your every need. And this is how you repay me? Why?” His posture drooped, his lanky frame slightly collapsing under him as he took a step towards her, but she shrank back.

Was he serious? How could he possibly expect her to believe his ridiculous words, as though not selling his own family into slavery had been an act of sacrifice. She knew he had been forced to keep her around, lest he have to start caring for Lonja on his own, or worse, find her a caretaker. Vintah had been the girl’s unofficial nanny for years, and even though Lonja was now thirteen the girl still acted like a child. She was petite for her age, pale, with giant round eyes that stared out of a sunken face. Terrified of everything and always whimpering and crying, Lonja was certainly not marketable. Loucef would have only the most desperate of buyers vying for her, and as much as he hated to admit it, he did have some shreds of loyalty that compelled him to care for his baby sister. Keeping Vintah around to tend to her had eased his conscious considerably. But such convenience was no longer an option. Vintah would have to go, and with all the information she had, there was no way he could simply let her leave.

“Why?” she repeated his question, rising to her feet. Her eyes narrowed as she forced her voice to remain calm. “Because you’re single handedly pioneering a practice that is a inhumane as one gets, Loucef,” she spat, scorn rising in her throat. “Everyone around here knows that when they’re ready to treat a person like a plaything, you’re their man. All these years I’ve had to watch families be destroyed, peoples’ futures darken, and lives be ruined thanks to you and your ‘services.’ I’ve had to eat here, sleep here, sing your sister to sleep knowing I’ve had a hand in all of that, even though this is never what I wanted. I will not sit by and let you do this anymore.” She was trembling, anger bubbling up to the surface that had been building her entire childhood.

Loucef laughed, and Vintah’s heart sank. It was the chuckle he always had when he shook his head, the facade of amusement hiding the hardening of his heart that happened when he had that look. His conscious gnawed at him, so his smile grew even tighter. He would not feel guilty. Her words meant nothing. After all, was she any different? Thieving and blackmailing? No. Clearly this was simply a case of the pot calling the kettle black. Vintah watched his face change, his eyes lose their focus, and she knew he was retreating into himself. Nothing she said would matter now; any vulnerability he had had was gone. Now Vintah simply had to survive.

“Oh Vintah, this self righteous streak of yours has got to go,” Loucef muttered, placing a long fingered hand on her shoulder. Vintah bristled. Loucef was always his most friendly when he was his least trustworthy. It was always much safer when he ignored her. “Do you really think that’s the sort of talk your new master wants to hear?” Vintah swallowed, the unspoken threat she had dreaded finally becoming a reality. “You’d sell me?” she asked, her voice a bitter whisper. “Just to keep your dirty secrets? I’d rather die.” She wasn’t sure if she meant it, but given the fate of many of Loucef’s victims, one usually resulted in the other fairly quickly.

“But where would be the profit for me in that?” Loucef asked, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. “As you know, I’m nothing if not an opportunist.” He smiled at Vintah, but it was forced. “Given your little attempted blackmail scam I’d say it runs in the family.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Vintah retorted. “You’re a husk of a man, what’s left after someone has sold every shred of integrity they posses. You can tell yourself we’re two of a kind, but you know it’s a lie. I am better than you!” He saw the loathing in her eyes, and it pierced him. Unable to bear it anymore, Loucef deftly gripped his fingers around Vintah’s shoulder and spun her around, pulling her towards him as he covered her mouth and nose with a cloth he’d pulled out of his other sleeve. Never knowing when the possibility for another capture was going to come about, the slaver was always prepared, even in his own home. Vintah’s eyes went wide with surprise, then fluttered and closed, her breath caught before she could even cry out. She collapsed, and he lowered her to the ground, binding her hands and feet. It was grim work, but he tried to tell himself he’d find her a better situation than most, even if it meant making a smaller profit. A sour feeling filled his mouth, disgust with himself and his way of thinking overwhelming him. Even he had believed he’d never sink this low. A cynical smile formed on his lips, his twisted delusions interrupting his guilt. “Never let it be said I don’t seek to surpass my own expectations.”

Vintah awoke to the smell of moldy hay filling her nostrils. She was surrounded by wavering blue light filtering in from the windows above her. Struggling to sit up, she found her hands and feet had been tied, and she wriggled her way to the wall, pushing against it to sit upright. Her head throbbed as the memories of what had happened flooded back to her. Loucef’s drugs had not only made her lose consciousness but weakened her as well. There was no way she could free herself. She had always wondered what it was like in the cellar where Loucef kept his “merchandise.” Now she knew. The cold stone floor chilled her and she shivered. She heard a scuffling noise and drew her knees into her chest. Were there rats down here? A hunched shadow creeped into view, a lithe figure tiptoeing over to the corner where Vintah huddled. Lonja. Relief washed over Vintah as her dread of rats left her. Lonja’s wide eyes seemed even larger in the moonlight, her worry making her even more pale. She crept over to Vintah and placed her frozen fingers on her cousin’s face, tears in her eyes. Through choking sobs Lonja whispered “I’m so sorry Vintah, I’m so, so sorry. I told Loucef about your notes.”

Vintah shook her head in disbelief. Lonja had betrayed her? “I didn’t know they were yours,” the girl continued. “I thought they were conspiracy plans from an enemy of Loucef’s, so I passed them over to him.” Vintah’s lips formed a tight line. It hadn’t been Lonja’s fault. Still, that didn’t make the circumstances any better.

“They were,” Vintah replied, her voice dull and thick from the drugs. “Loucef may be your brother and my cousin, but he is also my enemy. Though we never admitted it, that’s been true for some time. I’m sorry it has to be like this, Lonja.”

“Let me help,” Lonja begged, her hands clasped together. “I can help you escape! Loucef won’t ever suspect me, not since I accidentally proved my loyalty to him.” Vintah wanted to protest, but the truth was that she desperately needed the assistance. She had no other way out. The young women made a plan, taking action as soon as Loucef retired for the morning after his nightly rendezvous. Stealing the key to the cellar had been easy, and Lonja quickly untied her cousin’s ropes. She handed her a sack of all the belongings Vintah had asked for, and the two of them crept silently out of the house. “What will you say when Loucef asks where I’ve gone?” Vintah quizzed her younger cousin.
“That I heard some noises in the cellar, but I was too afraid to investigate for myself. You must have had a means of counteracting the drug and a lock pick on you, since you were prepared to go against Loucef anyway, just not in the way it turned out. I’m really sorry and can’t believe we ever trusted you,” Lonja repeated, her brow furrowing in concentration. Vintah sighed, tired relief on her haggard face. She embraced Lonja, who wept quietly. The only woman who had ever cared for her, the only person in the world she knew loved her was leaving. The risk being what it was, they would probably never meet again. Loucef would have alerted his clients that there was a very real liability running about, and many would be searching for Vintah to destroy her and the secrets she knew.

As Vintah fled she tried not to be heartbroken. She tried not to feel anything but ambition as she ran, determined not to let Loucef get the better of her. She would not live as a slave. She would be free, a wielder of her own agency, and she would count every theft a victory against him. One day she would return, she promised herself. One day she would expose Loucef for the monster he was. Until then she needed only to remind herself of one thing: “I may be a thief, but I will always be better than you, Loucef. Always.”