Kavan and Naava walked from village to village for the nextfew years, Kavan taking odd jobs people had when nature became a problem. She had to remove snakes and help redirect animals where civilization had moved in, but her favorite was to help find poachers. She never spoke much to those who hired her, because she didnât feel the need for other companions; Naava was enough for her. She never accepted money; material goods only slowed her down. She would only trade her services for something she could use such as bread, milk, or medicine. They continued to live this way, traveling from town to town.
One day Kavan wandered upon a village where she met a mercenary named Quinn in a local tavern. She walked in and made herself as comfortable as she could around so many people at the counter. Naava lay down on the floor around the stool legs. He didnât get to rest long before he sat up to warn Kavan about the approaching stranger. Â Kavan turned around to see who was coming and was surprised to see a female soldier casually walking up to her. The soldier sat down beside the druid and tried to have a conversation, but Kavan was awkward; she wasnât used to people trying to talk with her so determinedly. She decided to excuse herself for the night, but was drawn in by the mention of a poacher. Curious, she asked the girl to expound on her last statement. Kavan learned that the mercenary, Quinn, had been hired by the druid tribal leaders to track down a pack of poachers, who were quickly making the lynx extinct in the land of Castilion. Kavan was disgusted. Her usual kind side vanished as she stood and cursed the men who would harm such an elegant creature. Kavanâs venting was broken by the sound of laughter. She angrily turned toward the sound; she did not appreciate being made a joke. Â Quinn grabbed her hand. âIf you feel that passionate about it, why donât you come help me stop them?â Kavan wasnât sure why she had asked, but she couldnât turn down the possibility of stopping such a horrible thing from happening. She nodded once and sat back down. The other girl looked pleasantly surprised at Kavanâs agreement but smiled, âGood. We leave in the morning.â
The girls traveled together with a small band of three others. They became quite close during their journey and for the first time, Kavan found herself enjoying a human companion. Quinn opened up about her past and Kavan shared with her the stories of growing up in a forest. They began sharing rooms in the taverns where theyâd stay and they would spend hours talking. Kavan found Quinn fascinating. They spent eight months travelling to Castilion, during which the girls became friends. Kavan felt there might be more behind their friendship, but didnât have the courage to act upon it. She decided to teach Quinn Druidic, so they would be able to speak without being understood by others when they found themselves in crowded places. Kavan noticed that Quinn picked up the language quickly, and she found it pleasant to talk to her in Druidic. It was as if they shared secrets the rest of the world could only dream of knowing.
 Finally, they reached Castilion and the band was able to track down the poachers. They devised a plan and set to work. Kavan found a few lynx who had managed to escape the poachers and rounded them up together in an open field close to the poacherâs camp. She knew it was dangerous, but it was also the best way to get the poachers to come out. It didnât take long for the bait to work. Soon the poachers found themselves surrounded by Quinn, Kavan, and the others. They finished the job quickly, and the poachers were locked up before the sun had set. The band spent the night celebrating at the villageâs tavern. Everyone enjoyed a few rounds of honey mead. By the time they were headed to bed, the moon was high in the night sky. The breeze was cool for a summerâs night and Kavan asked Quinn to take a small walk to help rid themselves of the warmth the alcohol had brought.
They spoke quietly about the events of the day and of preparing for their long journey back. Quinn stopped after a few minutes and rested on a grassy hill. Kavan joined her friend in the grass with a sudden laugh. âWe make a pretty good team.â She smiled over at Quinn who was looking up at the stars.
âYes, we do. I thank Chandra I met you in the tavern that day.â She looked away from the night sky and into Kavanâs eyes. The girls were sitting side by side, their shoulders touching. Quinn exhaled deeply. Kavan felt Quinnâs breath and noticed their close proximity for the first time. She looked at her friendâs face and leaned in slowly until their lips met. Kavan felt Quinnâs lips move in response and her inebriated mind was suddenly thinking all too clearly. She inhaled sharply and froze. Quinn pulled back with a look of concern, but Kavan was on her feet before she had the chance to say anything.
âIâŚI should go.â Kavan stammered. She ran back to the tavern and whistled for Naava who bounded out the door. Kavan took him into the forest where they spent the night alone, though Kavan didnât get much sleep. She left early the next morning when the sunâs rays first peeked over the horizon. She was embarrassed by the way she had behaved the night before and wanted to leave before she had to face Quinn. She stuck to the roads she knew Quinn would avoid and decided then that she was not cut out for human interaction. For the next three years, she traveled alone, only stopping in towns to get jobs when she needed medicine or supplies. She avoided most people and was able to go back to her old ways easily. Only one thing had changed, now she was lonely.
Kavan was born in a castle. Not a traditional castle, but a castle nonetheless. It was a fortress of trees that had grown together into one massive trunk. Unfortunately, the years were hard on the tree and it becamehollow, but it made a nice home for the small druid family. Kavan loved theirhome, and itâs where she learned to speak the Sylvan language. Her parents taught her to be kind and respectful of all creatures, regardless of their outward appearance. She learned early on that every creature deserved to be treated as though they were her family, even the ones she found a little creepy. She quickly gained the forestâs love and could roam freely without fear. Â She was naturally curious and often found herself in peculiar situations, but with the help of the woodland creatures and her parents, she managed to grow into a young lady.
Kavan was fifteen before she experienced hardship for the first time. Her family had moved away from civilization before she was born, so she had never encountered the cruelty that some people possess. One morning in late fall, she was awoken by a loud shout. She immediately heard the trees crying out in pain and the animals of the forest running in terror. She quickly made her way outside and froze in fear at the sight before her. Huge men were stomping through the forest, her forest. They held giant axes and were making easy work of chopping down the trees in their way. She screamed in horror at their actions, drawing their attention to her. One of them smirked and lumbered toward her; that was all it took for her to realize the danger of the situation. She turned to run but stopped when she saw her mother leap down from the tree tops, a small dagger in her hand. She landed smoothly on the manâs shoulders and plunged the dagger in his chest before he could react. He slumped to the ground and her mother landed on her feet beside him. The other men, infuriated by the loss of one of their own, came barreling towards Kavan and her mother. Her mother swiftly pulled another small dagger from her boot and thrust it toward Kavan. Her mother told her take cover and to use the small weapon if necessary. She ran back to their home and hid. She held the dagger tightly to her chest as she sat in her home terrified. She began having problems breathing; as she became aware of the smoke filling her lungs, she saw a large figure walking towards her.
Kavan gained consciousness when water rushed over her face. She gasped deeply, bringing in a much needed lung full of clean air. She saw her parents in front of her, and they told her the men had burnt up most of the forest. They continued to tell her about their family that lived in a village not far from them. Kavan would be staying with them while they went to find the druid tribal leaders to inform them of the great loss of the natural world. On the way, her mother spoke to her of great trials druids had overcome, and with positivity and empathy, the druids were able to constantly rebuild their world. She told Kavan to make sure she always remembered that trees canât grow without the rain and that no creatureâs life was worthless. Her father used the days of travel to teach her how to properly use the dagger; he also made her a small sling as it seemed Kavan needed more practice with the dagger. Her aiming improved greatly while they travelled. Â She was able to easily bring down berries or nuts from the tops of trees as they continued their journey. A little over two weeks later, they arrived at her aunt and uncleâs village where Kavan said goodbye to her parents.
It didnât take long for Kavan to realize that her familyâs home was not for her. It was made of wood, but wood that had been chopped down and processed. She stayed for three months before she gave up on her parents returning. One night, she snuck out into the mountainous forest surrounding the village. These woods were new to her. She struggled to remember which berries were good and which she should avoid. She had never spent much time in the cooler climates the mountains brought. The first night was miserable. She found a tree that still had a bed of leaves around it and made herself a small bed in hopes of protecting herself from the cold mountain wind. It didnât help that it was deep in the middle of winter. She awoke with a start when she heard breaking twigs to her right. She reached for the dagger and held it close to her chest. The crunching was on the other side of the tree and she leaned around in hopes of seeing the danger before it saw her. Stunned, she put away the dagger quickly. A beautiful fox stumbled forward awkwardly. Kavan could tell the fox was in great pain. She rushed to the vixenâs side and felt the staggered breathing, and her eyes fell on the bloated stomach. She calmed the vixen and helped her through the night. By the time morning came, both the fox and Kavan were exhausted and heartbroken. The fox had given birth too early from distress. Four kits were lying on the ground around them, none of them breathing. Kavan wasnât sure if the fox had any more left, but she did know that the animal was in bad shape. She carried her to a stream for water and then to a cave the fox knew was nearby. Kavan continued to keep her calm. A few hours later, they were both rewarded with the last kit to arrive; this one was barely breathing, but it was definitely alive. The fox finally relaxed as Kavan put the kit next to its mother. Weeks passed and the kit grew stronger, but the mother continued to weaken. Kavan woke one morning to find herself alone in the cave with the kit she had begun to call Naava. They waited together all day, through the night, and into the next morning, but Kavan knew the mother wasnât returning. Most animals wandered off to die alone, and she knew that the poor fox had been in bad health. She picked up Naava and walked outside, welcomed by the first warm breeze she had felt in a while. She smiled to herself and looked down at the little fox squirming in her arms; a new chapter was about to begin.
With all eight of the Fab Protags finally in one place, Midik reveals more of their quest: in order to find the key to the castle from which the undead pour, they must journey to the tombs of three legendary warriors, beginning with the tomb of a long-dead dwarf. Despite the reservations of paladin Heath Barre and the tea-related antics of Cha-nanzi and Barrel, the group heads out, following Quinn into the night, much to Midik's chagrin.
Not entirely sure of their path, our heroes continue down the road, unaware of the danger waiting in the darkness, and suddenly...
Secret Orcs.
Failing to hear the attackers, Heath is the first to be struck, though his armor prevents any damage, leaving him uninjured, but annoyed. Just ahead of him, Freyja, unfortunately, is not so lucky, taking damage after an orc tackles her into the dirt. Four others appear, surrounding the Fab Protags.Â
Ava attempts to speak to the orcs, in an attempt to both pacify them and learn the reason for their attack, but her words are lost in the melee and the sound only serves to further frenzy the orcs. Thankfully, it does not appear that the attackers are the best the species have to offer, as another spectacularly fails to land an attack on Barrel. Unfortunately, when Barrel begins to retaliate, he is distracting by the perfect posing opportunity he has inadvertently created and not only misses the orc, but allows another to strike him across the back, though it does little injury.
While the rest of the Fab Protags deal with the remaining orcs, Heath frees Freyja, sending her attacker sprawling with a grapple. Frightened and angry, Freyja seeks to at least wound the orc before fleeing to the safety of the rest of the party. However, she misjudges her own strength and lands on the orc's with her full, creating what can only be termed as a "blood volcano" from the orc's head. Heath, still grappling with the orc, find himself awash in the creature's blood, much to his horror.Â
The rest of the orcs are dealt with in short order, leaving the Fab Protags exhausted, but victorious. Briala searches the bodies, coming up with several black coins bearing strange markings, which react negatively to the symbol of Pelor on Barrel's shield. Heath, still shaken, but no longer shell-shocked by the fountainous demise of the orc, suggests burning the bodies to keep the curse from reviving them, and as he, Quinn, and Barrel proceed to create a pyre, the rest of the Fab Protags find a stream in which to cleanse themselves.Â
Midik arrives, and though disgusted at the state he finds the heroes in, he remains long enough to tell them of what they will find in the dwarf's tomb, promising reward to those in the party who require it. He also mentions that the coins are demonic in origin, warning of the intentions of any who use the currency as payment. Cha-nanzi attempts to trick Midik into revealing further information by disguising a piece of wood as a copy of Midik's mask and claiming it was found with the orcs, but the dark-clothed stranger sees through the bluff. He takes his leave of our heroes, promising that he will meet them at the tomb and will wait until they return from within.
Barrel and Avarice traveled from town to town. Barrel healed and helped where he could while Avarice collected the rewards from everything she could in order to make ends-meet. She found that Barrel had a bad habit for never reaping where he sewed, so she took it upon herself finding ways to apply...
Avarice swore on Sohâs last breath that she would never grow so attached to a human ever again. She had lived in the monastery long enough to have seen her fair share of dying/dead humans. Never before had the weight of their fragility felt so heavy on her heart. Soh had been the man she formally recognized as her father after the passing of her biological father. The grief hardened her heart even further. Â
As the months after went by, Avarice realized that she was older than every monk in the monastery. The only monk she even considered worthy of her respect was Sohâs apprentice, Kota. Grand Elder Kota, like Soh, knew much of the world. He knew a lot about elves and elvish customs, and tried to respect them to the best of his abilities. The rest knew nothing and kept their distance. Kota, like Soh, noticed Avaâs issues. She was good at helping others, but terrible at accepting that she must help for free. In her spare time Ava had taken it upon herself to do jobs for money or would request compensation for her acts. She began keeping her treasures secret, going so far as to restrict access to her chambers to only a few of the monks who cleaned the temples. She kept stockpiles of treasure. Kota was never sure of where exactly the money she earned was stored, and paid no mind for her privacyâs sake. Unfortunately as time passed, Avarice was beginning to become distant from the monks.
She began resenting their mortality. In a way she loved her prolonged lifespan, but at the same time, her life was growing into a very lonely thing. Â Kota could see Ava distancing herself, and feared she might plummet back into the coldness of the world that Soh had brought her out of. He was running out of ideas, since her duties seemed to both annoy her and the people she actually collected from. He feared at this rate, she would surely lose her Way and be forced out of the monasteries forever. Â And then one day a fateful trip into the village brought forth a barrel of hope.
Avarice knew the second she laid eyes on Barrel that she would hate him. This was partially because of Grand Elder Kotaâs request that she accompany this overly kind bear of a man to help a child. Ava didnât like kids. They were gross and never did anything but whine and cry. However, she wasnât going to let sick children go unhealed. She may not like them, but she had a heart. She had hesitated to go with Kota to see the oaf that would accompany her. In the end, however, she had begrudgingly met the man with Kota. Barrel was his name. She remembered her first impression being how well the name suited him. He had screamed his godâs blessing at her and, noticing her flinch, quietly ended the blessing with a stutter. It annoyed her, and she didnât know why. Thus she gave no return of greeting.
Their journey together seemed longer than it truly was. Slowly, but surely though they began to grow fond of one another. Ava found Barrel a detestable loud oaf initially, rejecting his ideas on modesty and equality in races. She felt he knew nothing of her world of pureblood. However, he soon began to teach her of his ideals and reason with her. Â She couldnât decide how she felt about it and would only return his words with sarcastic jabs and mixed emotions. She knew he enjoyed her company, for some strange reason. He would often speak to her about her ideas and how he admired her strength. Avarice had to admit that secretly she admired him. He was a mystery, all the while being an open book to her. As they journeyed, the two balanced each other out. Barrel was kind for free. Ava was the collector that kept them alive. She began sharing everything with Barrel, and he in turn, shared with her. Inevitably though, the time came for Barrel to leave.
Ava was angry. She wanted him to stay. She wanted to know why he would come show her a life worth living and then abandon it. She wanted to scream and beat him for making her feel something. She hated him-- no, she loved him. That was what it had to be. She couldnât loose him. He was her sign, He was sent to her in order to free her. The two stood staring until Barrel turned and began walking away. In a split second decision, Ava threw herself at his back. She wrapped her arms around his broad, muscled back, and buried her face. She bit back the tears begging to escape.
âTake me with you! I want to go with you! PleaseâŚ.â
It was more of a yell than a statement. Barrel relaxed against her and turned. He took her hands into one of his own and smiled.
âI was beginning to wonder how long you would wait to say that, Ava.â
He kissed her after that, and Avarice never forgot the happiness she felt pulsing through her in that moment. The two became inseparable from that point on, and left for a journey unlike any other.
-For more on the twoâs journey, please read Barrelâs story! Also check out the rest of our fabulous posseâs posts!
The Personal Journal of Heath Barre, Paladin of Mildred
Journal Entry 1:
Father has decided I am to be sent to live and study with the followers of Mildred, a minor Deity of Order, Justice, and Valor. As the third son of a lesser noble, I am an insurance policy should my elder brothers meet untimely ends, and I rather think he simply wants me out from underfoot. This suits me well, as the enclave I will be sent to is in a peaceful part of the land, and I should have ample time for my studies. Mildred was a librarian many thousands of years ago, and elevated to her godhood for her stellar work organizing the Great Library of Windfall in the midst of civil strife and a dragon invasion. It is said her superb cataloging system allowed her to find the full names of any wayward dragons that threatened the city, and by aid of bullhorn she was able to scold them from afar and send them back home to their mothers with their tails tucked between their legs. Another tale has her utilizing the hairpins in her bun to fend off swarms of direbats that had taken to roosting in one of the library towers during her predecessor's reign. Unfortunately for me, Mildred was of the "fit of body, fit of mind" school of thought, so I imagine my duties may include some light jogging as well. With good fortune, though, this will not take up too much of my time. I look forward to this new venture, and am eager to see what the future has in store.
Journal Entry 2:
I am settling in well in my new environs. My quarters are ample, if a bit stark, and my window provides a good view of the surrounding land. Having grown up in the mountains, I look forward to walking the rolling hills of the countryside and cataloging new species of flora and fauna I may encounter therein. Brother William greeted me upon my arrival and he was welcoming, if a bit uncouth. Due to the excellent education provided to me by my father and a fortuitous vacancy in the post, I shall be given the position of quartermaster and record keeper. Brother William referred to me as a "quill-pusher," a term he seemed to regard with some disdain, but I am determined to wear it as a badge of honor. I was given leave to settle my effects tonight, and my official duties start tomorrow.
Journal Entry 3:
I must admit, I find myself somewhat daunted by the enormity of the task before me. Thompson, one of the squires, showed me to the record rooms today. The lack of a unifying vision for the space astounds me. There are stacks of parchment everywhere. They seem to be loosely organized into categories for food, materials, and maintenance, but that is all! Receipts for shipments of fish are mixed in with eggs, fruits, and all kinds of other produce! Today alone, I found four different requisition orders for axle grease, all dated within three days of each other, two of which had been signed off on by the same person! And I didn't even note a single wagon on my tour of the grounds! Worst of all, I have yet to see a single order for tea! It is truly appalling. Once my mind has been set to a task it is hard to dissuade it from its course, but I have no illusions that this will be a simple endeavor. To top it off, I'll only have a half day tomorrow to make a dent in this mountain of work, as I am to engage in martial exercises in the morning.
Journal Entry 4:
It has been half a span of days since I was last able to put quill to parchment. The martial exercises were much more vigorous than I had been led to believe. That big oaf, Brother William, smashed my hand with a quarterstaff in such a manner as to cause much discomfort. I begged off the exercises, citing discoloration as an indicator that much was amiss. However, I was simply laughed at and forced to continue even through the afternoon. I was forced to sleep in an ill-fitting and malodorous set of armor and told to wear it until I didn't notice it was there. A bit hard to do, as it smells worse by the day. I was finally given leave to bathe and go about my more important tasks today. I've commissioned several sets of shelving to expedite the organization of the record room.
Journal Entry 5:
The armor. It chafes.
Journal Entry 6:
Today, after several spans of seemingly endless drilling during the day and long nights spent sorting parchment, I was given a free day. I elected to spend it walking through the outlying hills. I made note of several flowers I had never seen before, and tried to capture their beauty in a drawing with several of the new colored inks I have acquired.
These cursed gauntlets and the continued sensitivity of my hand after my incident on the training ground with Brother William have contrived to make the act nearly impossible. Perhaps I shall look into pressing the flowers instead to preserve their integrity.
Journal Entry 7:
The spans have flown by with my work in both disciplines. I am actually finding the structure of morning drills to be of great aid in focusing myself to combat the chaos I encounter during my evenings of filing. My armor fits much better now, as I have begun to fill out from the exercise and diet consisting chiefly of meat. I've even begun to make some acquaintances amongst the other initiates, who have invited me to join them at a tavern in the nearby town in two days time for a meal after our duties are completed for the week. Hopefully the place will have a decent cup of tea, as the shipment I ordered has yet to arrive.
Journal Entry 8:
I was the only one drinking tea. The rest of my company drank copiously of various spirits. While deep in their cups, one of the lads informed me that the previous quartermaster was savaged when he disturbed a nest of rabid owlbears that had made their home in the hills under a copse of tulips. I believe I may very well be ill.
Journal Entry 9:
I have made much headway in the sorting of my late predecessor's "system," if one could call it that. I have also successfully implemented a system of my own devising for keeping track of the comings and goings of our brothers. Only a quarter of our number are in the keep at any given time, and it can be a nightmare to determine who should be where and when they should be there. Had my predecessor been possessed of such foresight, perhaps it wouldn't have taken three months for someone to note his absence.
Journal Entry 10:
The hardest part of my tasks here has been completed. Now, I only have to ensure my brethren stay within the guidelines I have provided. While speaking to Brother William of the pride I have taken in my accomplishments, he suggested it might be time for me to undertake the mandatory Quest for the order, since things seem to be well in hand here. As if I could entrust the day to day operations of this place to another! My system is still too new, it would fall apart if left in untrained hands for more than a few days. He acceded to this point, and suggested I take on an apprentice of my own so that I would be able to venture forth. I have selected the dullard Thompson for this, as it will take some time to teach him anything, thus ensuring my comfort for the foreseeable future.
Barrel felt like much the party had been fed up with the way Middik had revealed his plans to them. Heath, the ledger of a prominent paladin order, had been summoned just as the rest of them had. He arrived late into the meeting with Middik and seemed rather upset with the happenings... and especially so with Middik. The mysterious Middik revealed a few of his intentions to the party and told them that they must recover an item of great importance from a dwarven tomb which he could not enter. This was key to the cessation of the undead attacks upon the land where they currently found themselves. Quinn stormed out of the tavern and into the night when Middik said that his quest was of a rather pressing nature. Barrel wondered why she was so brash but decided that some action was better than none at all. The location of his task for the party had been marked on their maps, so at least they would not be lost. Not wanting to leave a member of the party to their own devices, Barrel chose to follow after Quinn. The other members reluctantly followed as well. The adventurers found themselves walking in darkness. Barrel wondered if Quinn realized that everyone was following her decision. He was not particularly pleased to be following after the party became silent. "There should be some communication." he thought. Barrel questioned to himself whether the party needed a leader or not. He felt that the party was not well put together. "Many here may not have faith... in themselves or a higher power..." he thought. Barrel wondered if hardships or trials may eventually bring this diverse group of personalities together. As fortune would have it, they would all soon have their chance to bond further.
Heath had fallen into the rear of the traveling group. A sound was heard. This sound was of an orc ambush from the darkness. The first attack came on Heath in the form of a shoddy hammer to the helmet. The strong make of the paladin's armor prevented injury to Heath, who was surprised and did not immediately react. A second orc attacked Freyja, directly in front of Heath in the line that had formed behind Quinn. The front of the party heard the noises of the quick strike, but would soon find themselves being attacked from the front lines. Freyja had much reason to hate orcs from her past, but she gained even more reason as the second orc tackled her from behind. In the slight moment of surprise and hesitation the orc had pinned Freyja to the ground with dark intentions. The creature assaulted the fair beauty, attempting to compromise her form with its own deplorable flesh. Freyja was surprised at first, but quickly recovered from the weight of her memories. She seemed to steel herself for action. It was time for the party to strike back!Â
Barrel readied himself for an intense battle as he saw Frejya do. Cha'nanzi began the battle by casting a magic light that allowed all of the hidden enemies to be seen by the non-elven members of the party. Quinn and Kavan, along with Naava the fox, engaged two orc assassins at the head of the party. They dealt massive blows to the assailants after an initial miss or two from the orcs and Quinn. At the rear of the party, Heath tackled the orc assailing the fair Freyja to the ground and pinned the orc under his armor. Freed from the clutches of the nasty creature Freyja used her astounding acrobatic skills to execute a high-jump leg drop to the exposed head of the orc that Heath held prone on the ground. The orc's head was crushed under the blow, covering Heath and Freyja in putrid blood and brain matter. Heath, having seen little of such a thing, was quite shaken by the violent nature of what had occurred. Freyja came to the side of Heath and laid her hands on him, trying to comfort and console the shaken paladin in the heat of battle.
At the same time, Briala found opportunity to strike the exposed back of the most incompetent orc. This orc, the first to have attacked the party from ambush, failed to bring harm to any of the party. After taking heavy damage from Briala the orc was put under a sleeping spell by the bard Cha'nanzi: the two finishing off the dim-witted orc in good time. At the center of the entourage Barrel stood fast by Avarice's side. Avarice ran to attack the nearest orc and dealt several unarmed blows to the core of the orc. Barrel saw that the party had the orcs outmatched hopelessly. He smiled to himself as he saw the willingness and eager spirit of the young adventurers to prove themselves in battle. After hearing Avarice and Quinn claim right to the final blows on their respective enemies Barrel decided that he did not need to protect his friends from such weak opponents. Making as if to deal the final blow to Avarice's chosen target, Barrel readied a mighty fist to cascade over the skull of the dreadful creature. At the last moment Barrel made notice of the form of his strike and decided to pose and display his strength to his enemies. He then turned his back to the orc that Avarice was fighting. The orc took the bait. It jumped on the massive back of the cleric and attacked him with a dagger. The dagger barely broke the skin of the mighty man. Avarice, seeing her chance, sprung upon the enemy that attacked Barrel. Barrel smiled as he felt the flurry of blows from Avarice crush the orc between his broad back and her iron fists.
The orc hung like a cape from Barrel for a time, losing its grip slowly and falling away. Avarice was quite please with herself. Quinn and Kavan were making short work of their targets while little Naava harassed and tore at the legs of her druid friend's enemy. Barrel rushed to help Kavan and Naava deal the final blows to their orc target. He grabbed his shield and decided to try a shield bash. Not being very dexterous with his large hands, Barrel knocked himself in the chin and bit his lip when lifting up his shield. "By Pelor's beard!" he exclaimed. Angered at his fumble Barrel decided that he should not deal the final blow to the orcs, who had taken damage previously and seemed to be at their physical limit. Quinn took a dagger to the core, but the orc in the heat of the fight did not follow up the lapse in her defense and did little but cut the outer layer of her skin. Quinn looked like she took great pleasure in cleaving the orc in-twain while Kavan and Naava bloodied their own foe. Seeing his chance, Cha'nanzi used his gauntlets to slap the foe. It was seemingly a weak strike, but the bloody orc could take no more and hit the ground unconscious. Barrel wiped his lip and shook his head at what had just occurred. "It would seem I don't need to protect the weak here. I see no weak here at all. As a matter of fact, none of them even seemed to get serious. I can't wait to see a real battle!" he said to himself. Barrel and the others healed the minor flesh wounds received by only a few members using strong magic, so strong that the magic treatments left the recipients feeling invigorated and even better than before the inflicted wound.
The adventurers searched and examined the assassins, finding nothing more than camouflage markings and strange black coins contained in the poke-sacks of the orcs. These coins exuded an evil aura, which the paladin Heath immediately pointed out. Thinking quickly, Barrel placed the obsidian coins upon the holy symbol of Pelor which his shield bore. The coins shook and burned, fleeing away from the symbol of benevolence. Avarice offered to keep the coins until further study could be made of them. The bodies of the orcs were disposed of and Barrel said a few words over a small gravestone he made to remember the orcs by. "May these creatures find peace in their journey into, through, and out of this life."
The party took respite by a stream, taking time to clean themselves and set up camp for the night. Middik appeared before them and asked them why they had traveled in the dark and not stayed at the inn where he had prepared rooms until the morning. He explained that he did indeed want his tasks completed in a timely fashion and didn't really mind after all that the party had expedited their journey by a nights travel. Middik was plagued by questions about the nature of his quest, Quinn attempted to punch him and find out more about his physical form, and Freyja displayed even more contempt for Middik than previously conveyed. Eventually the obsidian coins were brought up. Middik explained that the coins were from the Netherworld and had been given by a demon creature to those orcs to assassinate the new help that Middik had enlisted. These secret orcs had been a part of the scheme only a short while and Middik hadn't the time to tell the party of the potential threat beforehand. Middik had been skeptical of the abilities possessed by the assembled party before, but now that he had seen them unscathed by the assassins he was reassured in his initial plans. Middik stayed in camp with the adventurers as they told stories of their past and listened to their revelry carefully. Cha'nanzi attempted to trick Middik into thinking that there was another mask such as Middik's mask found among the items that the orcs had carried into battle. Middik saw through the clever bard's attempt and told him that if this were true, there would be a grave danger of a completely unknown level at the heels of the party. Freyja decided to begin performing again, starting with the group here at the fire. She had not performed for anyone in two years. She had no equipment and no act planned, so she appeared embarrassed and must have thought that she did badly. Barrel smiled and stood up saying "Let me hold my shield above my head and you may dance on top of it like your famous trapeze act you spoke of!" He wanted Freyja to succeed and bring her happiness to the people gathered. She did a bit better with the support of Barrel cheering her on and holding her above her crowd. "She may have needed a bit more practice before doing that... I hope my eagerness for her success did not place her on the spot in front of all these people... Pelor forgive me for my impulsiveness." Barrel thought. Cha'nanzi continued the festivities with his many instruments while the group talked on into the night.
During the campfire conversations among the party, Quinn informed Barrel of a chance to find an Ogre on the island from which she, a princess who had killed her evil and tyrannical father, had fled many years past. Barrel was overjoyed but kept in mind that he needed to know more about Quinn and her motives before he truly believe that he could complete his quest for the story of Shr'ekk. During these conversations some interesting conflicts arose. Avarice had spoken as if she wanted to stay aloof from the party, seemingly not trusting several members (with the exception of Barrel) who claimed elven heritage, and stated her opinion that it was not elven custom for elf-human mixes to claim elven ancestry at all. Pure blood elven customs were strange to Barrel, who had been raised mostly among humans as an outcast, learned to accept everyone as an equal entity in their own right. Barrel loved and respected Avarice's views on her culture greatly as he realized how important the little pieces of Ava's past, which she held onto so dearly, could be to her. Ava went to the stream-side to pray to the god of elves for guidance while the others talked. She apparently trusted Barrel to use his good nature and mend the cracks in the party walls. Quinn spoke of Avarice as a cold and heartless creature, asking the party what was wrong with her and why her attitude seemed so hostile to Quinn and Freyja especially. The names called reached the ears of the praying Ava and genuinely offended her. Barrel felt the heat of anger at hearing his love called a name. He asked Pelor for the strength to forgive and explained a bit about Ava's hard past, trying hard to be entertaining as well as insightful. Barrel hoped that explaining and telling the whole truth would encourage good relations between the group members. He explained Ava's lost village, family, and way of life. Â "She will take time to trust you as she has trusted me. Be patient and surely, by Pelor's graces, she will be an ally to you unlike any other."
Heath took the first watch that night. Barrel lay awake and stared up at the stars wondering if he had made the right choices that day. He wondered how far the potential friends could go on their own innate direction. He wondered if they would need a leader, and if so, who among them would rise up to the awesome task of caring for the complete well-being and state of the lot of them. "We are no closer to one another than when we began... I think. Except for Ava and I, we are all worlds apart even though we lay around the same campfire." Barrel prayed for guidance, for the continued protection of those in need, and special attention was given to Ava in Barrel's prayers. Barrel did not usually ask for much, believing that he should go and fix the problems with what he was given first before asking for divine aid, but tonight he felt that he should be truly humble and ask Pelor's divine favor for the sake of his companions on this journey. He knew they were not weak, he knew that they may not need or even want his help, but he knew that he must always be ready to lift up his shield for those in their moment of need regardless of weather or not the person(s) deserved such a gift or not. He decided that he would apply his strength of mind, body, and spirit to his limits and beyond for his friends. He then realized that more than anything, he wanted Avarice and himself to find new friends among the band of travelers which Middik had assembled.
Avarice was born in a small village beside the mountains. It was a place where flora and fauna merged perfectly into one beautiful scene. The evergreen trees lined the edge of the village and the mountains covered the northern edge. The village was home to a small group of purebloods who wanted to distance themselves from the nobility within the progressing world. They wanted to escape the wars and the royals and live in peace.
Avariceâs earliest memories were those of her parents. Two proud, pureblood elves named Lhingron (father) and Cevel (mother). The two were very much in love, and eventually decided to have a child. After many tries, Cevel gave birth to a baby girl. The girl had thick, beautiful brown hair; like the trunks of the trees of the village where she was born. Her eyes were the color of the deep green ocean and her skin was fair. The eyes were wise beyond their years, yet seemed to never hold any emotion besides sleepiness. It was because of this that they named their only child Loswen, meaning empty (lost).
She never cried or uttered much noise in her young years. It wasnât until she turned thirty, still a babe in elf years, that she smiled for the first time. Her first smile was given to her mother who presented her with a small golden bracelet that the village shop was selling. It was then that Cevel knew that her daughter would be the treasure-seeking girl she once was. For the next few years, as Ava aged, they taught her of all the ways of the elves. Cevel taught her of all the valuable treasures the elves had and watched over. Lhingron taught her how to be a strong, brave elf warrior. Loswen (Ava), their daughter, grew up happy and proving to them that she wasnât empty like they thought. She was smart, beautiful, and agile. Her eyes began to carry a wise glow and an even sharper wit. She began excelling in all that they could teach her. And then the night she would turn fifty, They attacked.
The âTheyâ were the dwarves that lived in the mountains north of Avaâs village. The two tribes had a strong hatred for each other. The dwarves wanted the village spoils. The elves wanted the dwarves out of the mountains. The two sat and plotted how to rid themselves of the other for decades. And finally, one fateful evening, the dwarves decided extermination was in order. The moved like an avalanche of metalwork onto the elves. Having been taken by surprise, the small village did not stand a chance. Within an hour the villages was covered in a blanket of flames and screams. The copper scent in the air was enough to gag anyone with an enhanced smell.
That was what Ava remembered the most vividly, the smell. The only memory that was clearer than that was the scene where she watched her mother fall to her death. Ava knew in the back of her head that her father had died fighting. Her mother had died protecting her. She remembered the smell of the iron axe, and the blood dripping from it onto her mothers limp body. She remembered the cackle the dwarf let out as he brought the axe down, decapitated her mother. He didnât see her until she was on his throat repeatedly piercing his throat until all that was left was a thread of skin in front. She remembered her scream of rage watching as they left with all the treasures her people had kept safe so long. They didnât bother looking for their comrade. They had what they wanted. They had exterminated the village, or so they thought. One little girl was left. One little girl, who was strong enough to nearly decapitate a dwarf on her own.
Ava was left alone for nearly five years. One day, a passing travelerâs group stopped in the woods nearby. The monks traveling with the group stumbled upon the ruins of the village and decided to bring the party to investigate. Inside one of the only stable house-ruins, they found a thin cold-gazed young girl. She was surrounded by various effects and items. She also had a small stack of what appeared to be food near her. She was filthy and wearing torn rags of clothing. She looked as though she had been in some fights due to the dried blood covering her arms and face. She gave them a blank cold stare and moved into a stance that readied her for an assault. She looked to be in her late teens, but the monks knew better. She was an elf, and her age probably surpassed their own. One brave man stepped forward, raising his hands in sign of peace. The two other monks flanked him to support his gesture, everyone else stepped out. They knew the monk was the eldest and the only one who could handle this.
âChild, weâre not here to harm you. Please, tell us your name.â
No answer only a cold stare.
âMy name is Soh. Iâm a monk, so I mean only peace.â
She shifted and seemed curious.
âYour name child, please?â he asked again.
Her reply was hoarse and quick.
âLoswen.â
He smiled and stepped closer, she tensed up again.
âLoswen? That means empty, though. I see nothing empty about the treasure trove you have here.â He said to her with a smile.
That was all it took to break the girl in front of him. Ava confessed everything to Soh and agreed to travel to the monastery with him. He swore an oath to keep her safe, in exchange for her training there with him and his disciples. Much like with her parents she learned fast. She grew to 5â6â and a dainty 140 lbs. She grew up embracing her lineage and trying her best to do as the monks around her. However, she felt wrong inside.
Her stubborn personality, and damaged childhood wouldnât enable her to trust others so easily. Helping them came with a price, and thatâs not how monks behave. She aged to adulthood. Remain in with the monastery to the age of adulthood (125). Soh gave her her adult name, as was elf customs (to be given an adult name,) on his death bed. Being true to his monk profession, he named her after her biggest sin Avarice. That would be her name to remind her of the strength and weakness she bore.
After much traveling Barrel came upon a certain town. The town was rather large, having many nearby smaller villages that used the town as a center of business and trade. Barrel made his way to the heart of the town and inquired as to the whereabouts of those in need. He was directed to a monastery on the outskirts of the town. It seemed rather old to Barrel. "What-ho faithful monks!" Barrel exclaimed to the rather surprised clergy, monks, and acolytes that saw his hulking figure barreling forward toward them. After some initial hesitance, they came to accept Barrel for what he was: Barrel was a self-made cleric and free healer that traveled as he pleased and answered to no mortal.Â
Suddenly aware of the traveling nature of Barrel's path, one of the elder monks sparked a marvelous idea. The crafty old monk knew a certain member of the monastery who had been a part of the acolytes longer than he had been a monk. That person was an elf named Avarice. Avarice had a tragic past, having lost her parents and all other elves that could have cared for her at a young age. Young age for an elf that is... Having nowhere to turn, the monastery accepted young Avarice into their arms in exchange for a very monastic upbringing with strong benevolent overtones. Avarice grew much more slowly than the humans who ran the monastery, and thusly had been with the fellowship of monks for nearly longer than any with exception of the Grand Elder of the monastery. Avarice was frankly not a monk. She stayed an acolyte her entire childhood and even into her maturing years. She did not enjoy the passive nature of the monks and believed more in firm actions that yielded real rewards, like money for help. This crafty monk who remembered Ava, as she was referred to by her peers, thought that maybe Ava's contempt for the monastery and passions for action would be better suited upon a new path. Her new path.Â
This monk told Barrel of many sick and poor which could use his talents. As he instructed Barrel on a map that showed the locations of a ranch house with a sick infant, he asked Barrel to wait a moment for him to return. Barrel heard the steps of his new monk friend returning but also the steps of another, much lighter and more cautious than the former. Barrel turned to see the sly old monk standing next to the most beautiful creature that he had ever seen. Barrel was caught off guard and could say nothing to the beauty that stood before him. He stammered and blurted out, "PELOR'S BLESSINGS up... upon you..." his massive hand bringing itself to hold the back of his head in embarrassment. Avarice coldly greeted him. The old monk told Barrel that Ava would be accompanying him to guide him through the town and its surroundings. Delighted to have a friend, and such a pretty one, Barrel thanked the old man heartily and made his way with Ava to do Pelor's work.Â
The old monk grinned and stroked his chin, wondering if Ava could learn to trust the boisterous stranger. "They are both of elven ancestry", he reasoned, "and both are quite passionate about what they believe... besides, she doesn't belong here. She knows it. She is too proud of her race to be humble living amongst humans and the less-fair folk. Avarice shows many signs of inner strength and she has the will to do great things, but those things are not suited to the service of our modest lives here. If I recall, her village was destroyed and her people wiped out by a band of dwarven vandals. She must learn to trust the other creatures of our world in a way that I can not teach her. I fear she may be destined for a long and perilous journey on which she must learn this. Ava thinks she can make the journey alone. Ah, children. She is strong, but I believe she will need a strong protector... Hmmmmmmm... I wonder how long it will take those two youngsters to find what I see in their future? Heh-heh..."
Off on their healing trips the pair began to grow fond of each other. Barrel loved the ideas Ava had and respected her strength of will and body. Ava looked on Barrel with such mixed emotions that she didn't know what to think. At last she had found someone that was much like her, though different enough to be a mystery to her. They spent all of their time together. Barrel helping for free and Ava collecting what she could from those that had enough to pay in order to feed the two well. Barrel decided to stay longer and longer in the city, not wanting to leave Ava. She would tell him of how unhappy she was living the life of a monk acolyte, though grateful for their generosity, stating that she was meant for this life. Barrel decided upon his course of action. He announced his intentions to travel on to Ava. Seeing the tears welling in her eyes he took all the faith he could muster to turn and begin walking.
The sly old monk who had started the ship sailing stood upon a grassy knoll not too far off. He watched as the brawny figure of Barrel turn and begin walking down the trail from which he had come many weeks ago. His old face could scarcely contain his broad smile as he watched Avarice break her stance where she stood and run across the path to the enormous half-elf. She threw herself against his back and yelled, "Take me with you! I want to go with you! Please...." Barrel took her hands into one of his own and turned to her. "I was beginning to wonder how long you would wait to say that Ava." Barrel lifted her to his lips and the two kissed. The old monk hailed them after several minutes of silent enjoyment. The monk held all of Ava's things which he had gathered in advance, neatly packed into a traveling bag with everything she may need to start her journey. She thanked him, asking how she could ever repay the monastery for its kindness towards her. The old monk laughed and exclaimed, "Try not to let this one get into too much trouble! That goes for either or both of you! Now, let me enjoy my picnic in peace Youngsters. I want to enjoy the spring around me going about its way."
Barrel and Ava walked off together, never more happy, never more alive with faith than that moment. The two traveled together into the next villages. Many stories could be told of the young love between the elf and half-elf, but the story lives on in every time which the two embrace.The journey for the both of them was just beginning.
It began with an unwanted child. As a half-elf abandoned by parents that could not keep a halfbreed child, young Barrel grew up between homes for wayward children and various religious establishments. Barrel grew more slowly than the other children due to his elven ancestry. Time seemed a bit more kind to him than others. This kindness was hard realized after much alienation from his peers. After much traveling with the monastery of Pelor, the Deity of strength, the sun, goodness and healing, Barrel stayed with the monks to train himself for five years into the perfect emissary of Pelor. He grew to the height for 6ft. 4in. when he matured and weighed well over two-hundred pounds of well sculpted muscle. He became brawny and grew a coarse mustache to accent his gentle smile. He reached his prime strength and grew restless using such immense strength for the chores of a preist.Â
Barrel decided after he attained an acceptable level of training in the healing arts that his real place was as a free healer that would travel the countries of this plain, healing all that he could and doing Pelor's work wherever possible. Along the way Barrel encountered many sick, many poor, and even some undead abominations which must be purged from the world by Pelor's might. Barrel gained his first real quest upon his travels. He was given this quest by a small child who had fallen ill and became very sick. This child, a young boy who was so full of life, had contracted a disease unknown to modern healing or medical practices. Stuck in his room he had become sickly and unable to leave his bed. The boy lived through stories told by local bards that took pity upon his plight and the books that were given to him by the monks in a local monastery. Barrel heard of this poor boy and his heart immediately went out to him. Barrel visited and spent much time with the little boy, learning all about his dreams and his adventures in his books. This child was amazed by Barrel's giant frame and the strength which he possessed. He said that someday he had hoped to be as strong as Barrel.Â
The boy told Barrel that there was among his little collection of stories a special book written from a time that made no sense to the timeline of the kingdoms. The monks had regarded the book as nothing more than a children's tale and gave it to the bed-ridden child to read. The boy told Barrel that it was one of his most favorite stories, but that there was something wrong with the book. It had no ending. The boy told Barrel about the wonderful book in question, saying that it was a tale about a mighty race of creatures called Ogres which inhabited swamps and marshes. The book spoke of a mighty Ogre Lord called Shr'ekk whose home had been threatened by an evil aspiring King from the far north. Ogres were among the magical fancies of children and bards in this land, the child explained. The boy believed in Ogres though. He had taken every text about the creatures from the monks that they would part with. He even learned a language which he believed to be Ogrish. Delighted to see a young person so driven to learn a language Barrel insisted that the boy teach him what he could of the mysterious language. The boy then asked the traveling healer for a favor. The boy, unable to leave his room, wished to know how the story ended so that he could live it for himself someday through a masterful telling by the best bard in the world. Barrel's heart was melted by the request. He had never known ogres to exist. He was also unable to deny the young boy's plea, and having accepted a promise from a child he was bound by Pelor to keep his promise.Â
Barrel decided that the young boy's faith was even stronger than his own to truly believe in what everyone else said was false. Humbled, Barrel reaffirmed his faith and swore his strongest oath to serve this young master to the end, that someday Barrel may have his strength of faith. Barrel said his farewell to the young ward of Pelor and vowed that he would find an end to the story even if he had to find and ask an Ogre himself! He knew in his heart that he would find the answer, and also the best bard in the world to tell the story for the precious boy. Barrel then set off with new hopes and a faith that had never been so strong!
Rare break in character here: holy crap, you people like the shit post!
But in all seriousness, thanks for the likes and reblogs, and getting some of our story out there. We'll try to continue to live up to the lofty standards of fecal humor that post has set. Knowing us, it probably won't be hard.
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