So what happens next. Already it seems so long ago that Cutter, the ship’s first mate helped me jump ship. I remember standing just a moment to see what was to be my very last sunrise from the bow of the Nightshade, the ship that had been my home, its crew my family as long as I can remember. She’d been named for the half Drow wife of its captain, my Father on the day she’d died giving birth to my sister and I and left him to raise the two of us alone. He’d turned his back on the land that day and lived the rest of his life, a pirate the scourge of the inner sea.

My sister, Synn and I learned the ways of the sea before we could walk and sword play not long after that. Synn, was a natural the Captain had always said but there was something else, something of our Mother’s Drow tainted blood. There was a darkness in her eyes, those eyes that so closely mimicked my own, those eyes that were the only thing we carried from our Father. Many times I saw the concerned look on the Captain’s face as he’d watch Synn spar with one of the crew never giving an inch, nearly killing one of his best swordsman. It wasn’t long before not one able body would stand against her except Cutter and Father would always step in before things went too far as much for Synn’s benefit as Cutter’s. He knew Cutter would have no qualms about spilling Synn’s blood but he was more worried that Cutter would be the one to bleed. I learned to stay out of her way. I learned to be quick and to move like the cat that that was as much a part of the crew as any of the rest, prized for killing the rats that carried disease and ruined food and water.

I got together what money I had saved over the years and what equipment I thought I would need. I did this secretly whenever my Sister would be otherwise occupied, not even thinking about me. I did this at my father’s request. He was becoming sickly and I think he knew he was dying. Cutter would come each day to find me and bring me to him so he and I could talk and he warned me not to stay aboard ship in the event of his death. He knew something. This final day He told me to get ready to leave saying do not let the morning sun find you aboard this ship. We’d come to port in a small out of the way village. Cutter nearly had to carry me out of my Father’s quarters that night. I did not want to leave him in his last moments. As I was dragged from my father’s death bed I saw that my sister was standing outside waiting to go in, She had a look of satisfaction on her face.

Later in the darkness Cutter came for me with the news that my Father was dead. Her eyes filled with tears she helped me to make my way to a small boat that had been prepared. I looked one last time through my own tears to the small quarters that had been my home for so long. Then Cutter hurried me out on deck and we quietly made our way but she stopped for a moment fishing something out of her pocket as I looked to see the sun just beginning to rise above the horizon. The ship was silent as a grave as I made my way to the small craft that would take me to land. As I climbed down the ladder I heard my sister’s voice. Cutter dropped both my equipment and a final gift from my father. Before she turned to face my sister and buy me as much time as she could with her own blood if need be.

I never heard the exchange of words that followed. I never saw the dagger from out of the dark that took Cutter’s life. I never saw my sister’s face knowing I had escaped. I never saw my Father take his last breath as my sister watched him die, her face so close to his as she took that breath from him. I lay in the bottom of the small boat wondering why nobody came to retrieve me. Why my Sister didn’t just come to kill me. In the end I didn’t even care as I wandered for days after I landed in my small boat putting as much distance between me and my Sister as possible. This is how I came to be here in this tavern in a village I know nothing of. Some time ago I bought a pack horse that turned out to be little more than a nag but she has been good enough to carry my few belongings and I am at least comfortable. All I can ask of my life now is so what happens next?

Character sheet: Tythe [Elf rogue from the Sodden Lands]

Just graduated from atanapratta school in Absalom, curious about the world. Think roughly Jane Eyre-ish.

Character sheet: Salma [Human cleric of Irori from Absalom]

I was born on Sarenith 4th in the little town of Hobbs End in Ustalav.

At the age of 14 I was wandering through a forest when I saw an ogre. So quietly I tried to sneak past it. Then I noticed that there was a bow and arrow on the ground. I picked them up and killed the ogre. At the age of 18 I was mocked and laughed at by human kids in Hobbs End, because I was not aging at the same rate they were. At the age of 20 I was abandoned and had to live on my own.

As an adult, I would go from pub to pub, looking for my family and beer. One day in a pub I noticed someone looking at me oddly, so I walked over and said “Hey buddy, you have a staring problem?” He said “No...” And before he could finish I was ready to swing at his head. Right before I was about to hit him he revealed a secret. Whispering quietly he said “I am your uncle... and you are in grave danger.”

So happy to meet a relative I started jumping and dancing. I started to sing something about ‘Berries and Cream.’ He said to me “Keep it down! The man standing next to the bartender... that’s not a man. It’s a lady. That lady kidnapped your parents.” he said. After a while of talking he explained how I wasn’t abandoned: my parents were kidnapped. He then proceeded to tell me the secret location. They were trapped in a dungeon surrounded by a hellhound, a medusa, an ice dragon, and 20 orcs.

So now, at the age of 22, I’ve been watching a group of people in this tavern. I plan to ask them if they could join me in a quest to find my parents. Perhaps a bribe of gold will pique their interest.

Character sheet: Deaglan [Half-elf ranger from Ustalav]

The King’s Lands, perhaps to you the Land of the Linnorm Kings, among the Ulfen Tribes, is where Candal was born. Candal, as a boy, possessed neither the innate strength nor size of his fellows. Though this often landed him on the wrong side of confrontations, it is perhaps fortunate for him that he did not stand out. Though he cannot remember how it started, perhaps it was a feud over grazing land or someone’s daughter was despoiled, it matters not. In the end blood was shed, and the feud embroiled the land in chaos. Many left to join the fray, singing always into the din of battle, their voices echoing the madness and horror of it all.

Now to a young boy, a sword is a mighty thing, wrought out of steel and cast in blood. Knowing not yet the loss of family or friends, Candal watched the men practice with many weapons, but it was the sword, one particular sword, that called to him.

Many, many years ago, now the elder of Candals’ tribe, Asborn, had watched the sky. One night, while staring into the abyss, contemplating his mortality and the glory of battle, he noticed something. A fiery beacon of light coming from the northwest; the sky burned as it descended, and the earth shook when it crashed into the mountain side. Taking it as a sign of some import, Ashborn sought out where this object had landed. All knew Ashborn’s story, for it was the song he sung in battle, of how he found the star-metal, seduced the maiden, and with the metal still molten from it’s traumatic decent, forged his great runic sword.

As it happened, a priestess of Torag, among the mountains and one of the Sky Maidens, had foretold the coming of the star, but of more import: that someone would seek to cast from it a weapon. She was compelled to help, though she would not see the benefit in her lifetime. The sword in the right hands would have the chance to right the wrongs that had been committed recently, the depravity and destruction which welled throughout the kingdom. So she went forth on her mount, swift they are, the Pegasi, and also sought out too the earthly resting place of the star. The man would not survive molten landscape, to forge the blessed sword which Torag had commanded from the sky.

And so, when Ashborn reached the landing site, he found not what he expected. If you were to believe his song, something wildly inappropriate happened that night. Candal doubted that Ashborn’s tale, for he was reputed to turn even the most common story into one of epic proportions. But of one thing all were sure, the blade was, well, different. Blackwand, so named for it’s unnatural color, back as midnight, and it seemed to melt into the darkness.

As the feud which embroiled the country side came to a close, Candal was the sole survivor. Being still a boy, and smaller than his fellows, the raiders didn’t notice him as he hid in the barn, as they feasted on his tribe’s village. Too many cups of mead they drank that night to assuage the pang of their comrades lost. They did not notice as he crept to where they had nailed Ashborn to a tree. Not yet dead, Ashborn imparted in his clans only survivor where he had hidden thrown his sword.

Needless to say, the young boy left the village and was eventually adopted by a clan of dwarves. Among the dwarves he grew up, and though traumatized by his loss, learned to live again. Live, that is without thinking of only vengeance. His family among the dwarves was small, though he did have a brother there, a headstrong dwarf named Thorab. Though it took a while, dwarves are reputed to be stubborn folk, eventually Thorab and Candal became fast friends.

When grown, they both went to join the service of Torag at one of his temples. Temple does not quite describe this place, for truly it was more of a fortress, being where the Paladin’s of the light trained. Studying for many years there, among the servants of Torag, they grew in mind and body. Candal and Thorab become some of the most talented men there. Thorab though, deep in study, found among the tomes a small trinket. Something in that small medallion called to Thorab, compelled him to don it. If only he had not put it on, for it slowly corrupted his soul.

No one noticed at first; it was only a small change, an irritation, a shorter temper. Eventually though, he turned away from the light, left the temple to gather followers to destroy the temple he had slowly learned to hate. Unaware of the depths of depravity which Thorab’s soul had sunk, Candal let Thorab go, thinking he just needed time to cool his temper and center himself.

Leading a dark army, Thorab returned several years later, and mounted an assault on the temple. Overwhelming was the force which assaulted the walls, and a small breach turned into a tide of invaders. The men defending the temple, fell back to the inner chapel to make their last stand. Thorab personally lead the charge into the chapel, relishing the opportunity to slay his so-called brother. On the marble steps the two of them fought, and shed their brothers blood. Candal, at the end, knew he would not win this battle, and so he reached out to his brother. Thorab, without pitty for his worthless half brother, ran him through. In what were to be Candal’s last moments in life, his hand fell apon his brother’s neck. Attempting to stay upright, he grasped something around his brother’s neck, tearing it free as he fell.

The amulet shattered as it fell to the floor, freeing Thorab from the compulsion of the soul trapped within; his dark army, conjured with the amulets power, dissipated in a heavy wind. Thorab’s mind though was shattered, for the intelligence inside the amulet was so intertwined with his own. He would not remember anything of his past, and those around him never thought it wise to explain to him the horrors he had committed.

It was in a bewildered Thorab’s arms, that the few survivors found Candal. Untrusting of Thorab, they no longer sensed evil within him. Fortunately, they were able to save the still young paladin in his arms. Candal, though he survived, could never bring himself to forgive his brother, and went on his own path, traveling the realms alone, as perhaps he was always meant to be. Why else did fate take everything from him? First though, he went to find the sword. He never forgot where it was hidden, inside the oak outside his village. Now a man, trained in battle, he traveled the land without fear, so unlike the boy he was when he last traveled these paths. Gathering the sword he set off to clear his mind.

And so it was that he wound up here; damn him. The fisherman had said, “go east, ya’ll ge there, e’ntualy”, so he had rented the blasted boat. He didn’t say anything about the boat thinking it would be just a bit easier to travel to the depths of the sea. No, he’d just taken the silver and smiled. No doubt, he was having a great, howling, laugh over this. The blasted boat wouldn’t go far in a puddle without needed a bailing can; no wait, a bailing barrel more likely. He managed though, arriving on the shore of the island: soaked, cold, and hungry with a half sunk boat…..

Character sheet: Candal [Human Paladin from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings]

Character sheet from Bewildered campaign: Thorab [Dwarven Paladin from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings]

30 Neth 4709 AR
Falcon’s Hollow

I am fortunate that Kasa is such an unusual creature for these parts. Not only was she allowed to stay in the inn rather than the stables, but she’s oblivious to the odd looks she’s receiving (and she’s keeping any unwanted attention away from me personally). I am also allowed to stay in the inn, something I would not have imagined a year ago.

I reflect over the last eight years; after being captured from my small clan in the Realm of the Mammoth Lords by raiding orcs, I was one of the few females they thought worthy of keeping alive, perhaps because I could speak orc. They forced me from my homeland to their hold many miles south. It was especially ironic for me, because I recognized from the filthy banner they carried that their tribe was the one my mother had escaped from; for all I knew, her own brother was the one that slew her and my human father.

With little hope for revenge, I spent the next seven years doing whatever I needed to do to stay alive.

Then last year, I finally got away, thanks to Kasa’s herd. One night her herd came though where the orc tribe had set up our make-shift camp, trampling everyone and everything in their way. Nearly all the orcs died right where they slept in their drunken stupors, though two of the mammoths were mortally wounded in the process, including the one Kasa was following. The larger mammoth had crushed the tribe’s flag on her way through, and the stupid orcs were more enraged by that than by the deaths of their own kin. In the aftermath, I took the opportunity to dispatch the injured orcs then turned to the trumpeting calf. She looked unharmed, so I grabbed what supplies and weapons I could, with plans to head south to slave-free Andoran, following the path emblazoned by the mammoths. Kasa followed me, and has been the source of my good fortune every since.

Considering how poorly I was treated by the orcs that enslaved me for so long, it is gratifying that most humans treat me as an equal— either I am mistaken for a half-elf or human (like the orcs did) or they just don’t care that I’m half orc as well as half human. I’ve even been paid to walk with caravans. Now that I’m finally in Andoran though, I am not sure what to do next, so here I sit, spending my last few coins in the Jak’a’Napes with Kasa.

Character sheet: Griselda [Half-orc ranger from the Realm of the Mammoth Lords]
Animal companion sheet: Kasa [Mammoth]