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I was born in the town of Tranos, not far from the castle. My mother was a scribe and my father a clockmaker. Through the years of my youth, I was a wayward lad. My dad hoped to 'prentice me in his business, but I showed no aptitude for the fine mechanical work that he did. Therefore he despaired of my ever amounting to much of anything. My mum had me as a sort of unofficial page in the castle for awhile, running messages and doing whatever odd jobs came to hand. On my free moments, I would hide behind the drapes in the great hall and watch the lordly adventurers come and go at various functions held by the castle lords. All I could think of in those days was being among their exalted rank. Two days before my eighteenth birthday, my father sat me down and said "you have to make some choices lad." You've no great skills and a need soon t'find your way in life. What will ya do with yourself?" "I want to be an adventurer," I said proudly. "I want to go forth in the world and right wrongs and seek gold and glory!" My father sighed deeply. "Well, 'bout the only thing I can think of there is for yeh to go and see your uncle in Frostfall. He's in some guild or other up there an perhaps he might advise yeh more than I can." So it was that on the day of my birthing, I gathered a pack of supplies and a sturdy sword, a gift from my parents and set out for Frostfall. Of course, within a short time, I was totally lost along the winding road and wound up in a dark, dismal forest edge near nightfall. I was lost and I knew it and too stubborn and proud to stop and consider my bearings. Without realizing where or how, I wound up in a kind of graveyard, far from any village. As I picked my way 'round the old, fallen stones, I was surprised to see a faint light coming towards me. Of a sudden a great red stag stood before me, its massive rack pointed in my direction. It regarded me a long moment, then it turned its head with a snort and jerked it in a particular direction... almost as if pointing the way I should go. Not knowing what to make of this, I moved in the indicated direction, occasionally glancing back to see if it followed or what... he simply stood there... watching... I found my way out to the road within a few moments and continued my journey. It seemed I was a magnet for trouble. Before I'd gone another whole mile, I ran into two sneering bravos who made a decision that it was time for me to be parted from my pack, my blade and my life, not necessarily in that order. I clumsily raised the blade I had and prepared to try to defend myself. Backing up, I managed to trip over an unseen stone and crashed to the ground in a heap. They both burst out laughing, then one of them approached, blade up, ready for the easy kill. Without warning, there was a clap like thunder and a brilliant flash of light lit up the trees around me. The bravo standing behind his friend got the oddest, most surprised look on his face... then he slowly slumped to the ground, very, very dead. His companion was abruptly staring at eight feet of glittering, razor-sharp death, being held by the most amazing man I'd ever seen. He was of elven stock, much like me, though built heavier than I was. The thing that stopped me was the armour he wore. Head to foot, he looked as if dressed in laced ice! It glinted in the shimmer of light coming from the blade he held which was sparking as if a thunderstorm was caged within it! He was mounted atop a steed that literally snorted lightning and thunder. I had never even dreamed of the like of such a beast. The look on his face meant complete business. He waited... blade ready... for the bravo to choose how he would die... the thug took one, slow look and simply tossed his blade into the bushes. So much for bravado. The man in ice said quietly "on your way to Frostfall lad?" Wordless, I nodded. The blade slowly swung 'round, pointing up a side road not far away. "There's yer path then. Be on with ya and peace unto you." I gathered my pack, my blade and the scraps of my pride and whispered "thank you," and moved quickly away. Whatever happened to the bravo remains an unknown. Within the hour I was in the office of the daywatch, asking about guardians who rode thunder-breathing steeds and wore ice for armour. The guard captain chuckled and shook his head. "Aye lad, likely was one o' them Battlemages. Their guildhall is here in town." When I asked about joining their ranks, he just chuckled, amused. "Well now, I dunno. Vera few find their way into those halls anymore. Lady Tyriana brooks no foolishness an I dun think yew look the type. But... we are lookin' fer some likely lads to join the watch if yer lookin' fer work. Pay's not all that great, but yeh'll get a good berth, plenty o' food and some trainin. Maybe then yeh can go see 'er an present yer case." My brain said one thing, but my stomach disagreed mightily and eventually, the belly won the argument. I was outfitted with simple chain mail, issued a better blade, given a watch and a training schedule and put to work. It was the training schedule that put me on the course that would set my first career. I took my training in the Adventurer's hall in Frostfall because it was large enough to handle those who came north looking for glory and for us of the watch. Day after day, I tramped down into the combat pits and practiced against test dummies and small creatures conjured by wizards hired by the guild to assist in teaching flatfoot warriors like me to stay alive in combat if possible. It was during one of these little battle sessions that an odd thing happened. I somehow managed to dispatch the critter set against me, and as it fell, it dropped an odd dagger. I picked up the blade and examined it curiously. Didn't look like all that impressive a weapon, but the handle and guard were covered with an assortment of deeply carved runes. I couldn't fathom a bit of the symbology, but the blade had an appearance of being quite old and perhaps valuable. How this little beastie had come across it, I've no idea. I slipped the blade into my belt loop and thought nothing further of it until the training session was over. Then, I went upstairs to the small shop where Signus traded in rare and unusual items and trinkets. I placed the dagger on his counter and asked him what it might be worth. He got a look on his face that I'd seen before... the one that indicated that he might be about as interested in the item as he would be in a block of ice from the street out front. "Dunno," he said "might give yeh a few golds for it. Lemme look closer..." He examined the rune covered handle, rubbed his chin and said "where'd yeh say yeh got this?" "One of the little beasts downstairs dropped it," I replied. "No idea how he came t'have it." "Never saw the loike of it," he said, "but... the runes on it... mebbe belongs t'one o' those Battlemages. Might offer a reward fer returnin' it, aye. Give yeh 20 gold on it... ere' now... wot'cha doin?" I had covered the blade again with my hand and swiftly picked it from the countertop. Something in the way he looked or stood, or... I don't know... I just felt in my bones that this find was important... more important than he was letting on. "If it belongs to one o' them, p'haps I should take it back. Rather I get the reward than you." "Well now lad there's no sense gettin' all worked up over it, be glad t'take it to 'em fer yeh an be sure t'name yeh as the finder..." "No, that's... okay ser... I'll do it." And with that, I literally ran from the room, his mutter of disgust following me out the door. I scampered out into the street, still wearing nothing but a loose shirt and trousers and in bare feet. This in Frostfall in the middle of winter... right now, however, the frigid temperature meant nothing. Somehow, I felt I'd gotten lucky and I needed to act on that luck instantly. I darted down the road, past a number of startled citizens and made my way over to the large guildhall that I had been enviously watching for months on end. As always, as soon as I showed up at the door, a stern-faced woman stepped into my path. I'd seen her do this to dozens of youngsters about my same age and almost all had been turned away... some quite abruptly. She looked me up and down... and probably was near falling over laughing inside at this moron of a gangly elf, standing in the freezing cold, slowly turning blue. I managed a weak bow and said "I've found an item that I believe may belong to one of your guild members mahm. I came to... erm... return it... and perhaps... see about.. some trainin?" That pretty speech elicited me nothing more than a snort of amusement. Her hand came out though and waited. I took a deep breath, realizing that I should have done this ANY other way than how I was doing it, but knowing it too late now, I handed her the dagger. She looked it over... turned it... looked again... turned it again... and then stepped back and jerked her head in the direction of the door. "Enter." Was the only word she said. I stepped that day into another world. Within hours I was redressed in new robes, given a decent meal and a tour of the magnificent, old guildhall that houses the Battlemages. For the next thirty five years I remained in their ranks, learning the art of swordplay and studying extensively in defensive magic. I walked the narrow, difficult path of the teachings of Benjuk and I too, eventually donned the armour of ice and was called to and joined by a magnificent elemental steed whom I named "Storm's Song." During those years I met and married a woman of rare talent and unusual beauty named Talenriella. All of the guild shortened it to Tali. Our lives together were filled with adventure and the wonder of living. All things, however, change in life. An argument developed among members of the Battlemages guild and rumors of ill will flew wildly. Tali and I and others made a decision that it would be necessary for us to sever our ties with the guild and we left its hallowed halls. For the next ten years, we wandered, seeking hearth and home. Tali made a choice to settle back in Frostfall as a professional assassin and remains there to this day. I continued my own researches and it was at that time that I had my second encounter with the Stag. I was riding through a section of Dirimloth forest that I actually knew pretty well, by now and in the bright sunlight instead of dusk as I had years before. I had just left a tavern in Goldcroft and a meeting with the then-guildmaster of the Rangers, Kal. We had had a cordial discussion of matters around the realms and a couple of fine tankards of ale and his parting words still echoed in my mind. "Why not find your way to our tree sometime and see what offers there?" I had jokingly said "sure, I'll just pop right over," shaken hands and departed. Without really thinking much about it, I cut into the small graveyard that I'd found years and years ago, knowing it something of a shortcut from the Ralos Plane road to the Great North. As I rode along the fence, I saw him. His glistening, red coat and massive rack seemed unchanged since our last encounter when I was a pasty-faced lad. But now, he had a different plan. Without seeming to hurry about it, he strode across my path and stopped, waiting. I reined in my horse and also stopped. His massive head turned toward me, then he looked steadily off in another direction. Back to me... then back towards the woods again. I looked along the direction he was looking... nothing but trees and underbrush. Without warning, he lept at me. I didn't even have time to think, I ripped out my sword and swung a murderous cut on pure instinct. Without a sound, he dropped at my feet... and a voice I will never forget rang all 'round me... it said one word... "home." Without a moment's delay, I turned my horse in the direction I'd seen him staring only a moment before. We headed towards what for all the world looked like a solid wall of brush and trees. But when we got there, I found to my surprise that the undergrowth wasn't quite as solid as I'd thought. I found a way through. With a little more searching I came to the base of the largest tree I'd ever seen in all the forest... and discovered a grinning Seth Proudfoot with a bow stuck an inch from my nose... ...and I was at last home.. |
Date Joined: Current Status: Active Mentor's Name: Goranstone Mentor Pgm. Graduate? Yes Ironwood Ranger Bow Award: Yes Guild Team(s) Joined: Hunts Gold Leaf Patch Award: Yes Giant Falcon Award: Ring of the Redwood Award: Yes Taken Period of Solitude? Guild Offices Held: Scribe GL, Guildmaster |