After an unfortunate incident stemming from one of his early attempts at alchemy, Fafnir was “asked” to leave his childhood home. (No need to go into detail — suffice it to say it involved a member of the nobility, a goat, and what was meant to be a Love Potion....)

He travelled for a while as a tinker, before settling in Smallville in Bissel. Since arriving in town (a few years ago), he has managed to build a small house, and has supported himself by using his alchemy knowledge to mix up some concoctions for the locals (special brews, salves, etc.), as well as some pretty neat inventions.

There was a little rough spot in public relations the time he made the Chicken Powered Butter Churn — it didn’t work quite right. (And Farmer McGuire’s daughter will never be quite the same— but that’s a whole ‘nother story.) Since then, Fafnir has kept most of his inventions to himself.

Fafnir has also done some light blacksmithing, carpentry and glassmaking on the side. For some reason, the blacksmithing, carpentry, and glassmaking are much more popular with the locals than the alchemy and inventions!?!

On Festival days, Fafnir will often entertain the townsfolk with amazing displays of colorful lights and fanciful creatures. Sometimes when he is in town, children have been known to follow him around, requesting that he perform some ‘magic.’

Recently Fafnir acquired a Weasel as a familiar. The familiar has been named “Fingers,” as he always seems to be getting his little paws (or nose!), into something.

Although happy in Smallville, as of late, Fafnir has been feeling the urge to see some more of the world. For one thing, he would like to learn some more about both alchemy and the art of illusion, and Smallville hasn’t offered a lot of challenges. He also has dreams of being a great gnome Inventor, but doesn’t have the monetary assets needed to build some of the more complex machines.

But most of all, he just has a hankerin’ for some Adventure!

Character sheet: Fafnir Flamebrewer [Gnome Illusionist]
Companion sheet: Fingers [Weasel Familiar]

Drusilia Silverwood is an average elf. Well, average height, anyway, with the typical golden blond hair and violet eyes of her race. Gray elves of Greyhawk are usually not found living in common towns, but an incident shortly after her 122nd birthday sent her life in a quite different direction.

During Drusilia’s childhood, she often overheard her elders speaking of the other races that inhabited the Flaness, and how most could not be trusted. But, she desperately wanted to see and meet dwarves (especially dwarves!), gnome, halflings, and even humans. She had met high elves and was intrigued by the ease with which they apparently interacted with these other races. So, when she finally turned 122 (just the right age to set off on her own), she left her home in the forests of Bramblewood to make her own destiny.

She was almost disappointed with the ease with which she slipped past the few petty bandits hiding in Bramblewood Forest, eventually arriving at the southern tree line. Rather than fearing the view of the open sky though, Drusilia was thrilled to feel the full force of the sun shining on her for the first time ever, unshielded by canopy of intertwined boughs of her ancient forest home. So enraptured she was, that she continued to walk south throughout the day and well after dusk, finally coming to the fringes of “civilization” in the March of Bissel, but not yet ready to step into any of the villages she passed.

She walked until the stars and both moons were visible, and though she was aware of the human settlements she passed, she was intrigued by a shuffling sound just off the road, in a fenced off area dotted with small statuary and stones with inscriptions on them. Curious, she stepped over the low fence to see what the purpose of the small yard was. Just as she bent down to inspect what looked to be a newly carved stone marker, two cold hands thrust through the dirt at her feet to grab her ankles, attempting either to pull her into the earth, or to use her as purchase to climb out. Horrified, she left out a terrified cry, and then again as another set of hands lifted her from behind. Happily for Drusilia, the second pair of hands was stronger than the first, and belonged to a human Paladin of Pelor, whose task it seemed, was to make sure the dead buried in this plot stayed put. Her first contact with humanity had a huge impact on her. After spending the rest of the night in Nightwatch’s Temple to Pelor, the clerics there gave her a wooden sun amulet to protect her on her journey and a small prayer book, for she was not yet ready to settle down.

Drusilia eventually arrived in Smallville, and finding that there were a few dwarves, halflings and gnomes, as well as other elves, already living as friends and neighbors in the mostly-human village, elected to find a home there herself. She has spent twelve years there, praying daily to Pelor for the same strength to help the villagers there as she found in the Nightwatch. She often is called to help heal villagers who are injured, as well as the occasional adventurers that pass through on the way back from some wondrous, yet hazardous undertaking. Soon, she plans to attempt some adventuring of her own, perhaps with some of the other non-humans living in her own village.

Character sheet: Drusilia Silverwood [Elven Cleric of Pelor]

Dear Cousin Grun:

Thanks for your letter last month; it’s always good to hear about events happening in the homelands. Glad to hear the clan broke through to a new vein of iron ore, and congratulations on your own discovery of a new (so what if it’s small?) diamond mine!

From your description of the event, it sounds like you put our battle training to good use when goblins tried to overrun Midrock. I wish I’d been there to help protect the village, too! (Even if they were “just goblins.”) I do enjoy living and working with Father, but to think our family’s home was threatened makes me angry even now. Father walked about pulling his beard, he was so upset —­ and then burst out laughing that the goblins would even try. Remember the orc hunt, to prove we’d learned to use our waraxes properly?

It has been a long while since we’ve visited Midrock. The shop has been busy, but mostly with travellers needing repairs, not often new armor or weapons. On the other hand, I’m sure Father will want to make a trip to see the quality of the new ore! Travelling with him is always interesting; I don’t think any of the adventurers coming through this village have better stories to tell. He’s slowly getting used to the idea that I want to do some adventuring, myself —­ as if hearing his history would satisfy my own desire to do battle with the evil creatures of this world. I think he was hoping I’d follow the call to serve Moradin alone, and work with weapons and armor without wanting to use them myself, but even he has to admit that a warrior-priest is much more respected, than a priest alone. Aren’t fathers funny? Ours teach us all the ways of the dwarven warrior creed­ — and then worry when we follow it!

As for myself, I don’t think I’d make a good priestess unless I do some travelling, some battle, gain a stronger understanding of who I am and what I stand for. Hope that makes sense. And I still think I have an easier task before me than you —­ but only you would be surprised at receiving no less than three marriage proposals in a month! You’re young, beautiful, talented, and your family line goes back to the founding of the clan. Just make sure you’re happy, along with Uncle — after all, he doesn’t have to spend the rest of his life with the lucky dwarf! (P.S. ­— Mother sends her love, and reminds you that you don’t have to pick any of the suitors if you’re not ready!).

Brother has helping a lot more at the forge, lately­ he shows a real talent for the work. So, I don’t feel like I’m leaving Father in the lurch, to look about me, do some travelling, perhaps even an adventure or two! I may not be as regular a correspondent; I hope you understand.

I’m leaving this afternoon to check out the old “haunted” house outside of town, for that matter. A very mixed group of us decided to see what’s really out there since the former inhabitants disappeared some time ago.

Personally, I doubt there’s much to be found but swamp gas and creaky floorboards, but I’d feel terrible if they got into trouble and I could have helped. There’s an elf healer who’s done me a good turn now and then, and a gnome “inventor” —­ you can just see the cloud of disaster following him!
Both are enthusiastic about going adventuring — perhaps too enthusiastic!
Also, a halfling with some skills that I wouldn’t call entirely honest, but he does mean well (his nickname is Trap —­ at least he’s more inclined to make them, or only disarm them when asked, but still...!).

All right, I’ll end this note. Send my love to everyone, and may Moradin guide your path.

Ghelt Futhark

Character sheet: Ghelt Futhark [Dwarven Fighter]

Excerpt from the Journal of Merolen Amakiir, Father of Valon

… I feel almost lost, Though I am sure that Valon has felt that way for the past 35 years. It is a long time to hold a memory so close, but I fear he may never forgive himself. 35 years… amazing. It has been that long since I lost my eldest son. It seems like just yesterday. I suppose it must seem sooner for Valon. He knew what he had done, but he had no control.

The hunting party had come across a Drow in the woods. He had been raising the dead from the last major battle inside the Dreadwood, and at that point had a sizable force for our small hunting party to combat. We fought mercilessly and without hesitation. I know both my sons fought well, as together they had destroyed at least a dozen of the walking dead by themselves. But that damnable Wizard had other tricks up his sleeve.

Before anyone could stop him, he took control of Valon and forced him to kill his brother. We subdued Valon quickly, but the wizard managed to escape before we could deal with him.

When Valon came to he realized what he had done. Though we were not upset with him, he was furious that he had fallen under the spell. Valon said that he fought with all his might against the wizard’s spell, but could not control himself.

Valon has lived with that failure for 35 years now. This morning I received a poem in his handwriting:

With heavy heart I leave this place,
No longer able to feel at peace.
I hope one day I may earn my grace,
And my mind’s memory of the day will cease.
How long I am gone I do not know,
I may never again see this wood,
And as I turn my back to go,
I do not think I ever should.
With me I take my curse and sword.
And begin with my disheartened pace.
I ask a small request of my lord,
Never once to me give chase.

Now I fear I have lost both my sons. I hope that the Gods favor Valon…

…A messenger from the Temple of Ehlonna came to me today. Someone has stolen The Cursed Sword. I don’t understand. Could Valon have taken it? He went missing as well. I hope for his sake he didn’t take it. The Sword is more trouble than it is worth. It does make a person powerful for a little while, but eventually they are driven insane by it. It is so strange that he should disappear along with a cursed sword…

Character sheet: Valon [Elven Bard]