My tale is not one that is happy.  When I was but just a wee baby my parents, my 6 brothers and me got banished from the town we lived in to the Blazestone.  We lived a relatively happy life, if you can call it that. What little food we had, had to be divvied up between nine of us. Although it was tough we were a closed linked family and shared everything.  Every day my father would train us with a hammer so we could defend ourselves, but even that didn’t help when I came home from a successful hunting trip with my brother, Thorfin.  I came home to find my drukar (home) smashed with a hole in the wall with my family dead on the floor.  I fell to my knees as I saw, but Thorfin pulled me up and pointed to the scum who killed my family.  They were a couple of Genasi theives.  Thorfin let out a mighty war cry and charged at the vermin, before he even took two steps he fell to the ground dead for what looked like absolutely no reason.  From the shadows of my house something let out a horrifying laugh and in he said in my head run little baby, run in a language I know wasn’t dwarven, and as he did I saw some of the most terrifying eyes that ever existed. So I did, I ran and I ran. I ran so far that someone actually stopped me and asked if everything was ok.  At that point I broke down wept. He brought me home and gave me a mug of ale and asked what had happened. I told him my entire story beginning with getting banished to running away. As I told him two things became very clear to me: That the world was a very unforgiving place, and that life is the most precious thing.  The man introduced himself as Douvenstaul.  He seemed like a nice enough lad, and he had given me some ale.  He told me that he was a fighter and he would train me to defend myself the the time should come.  We spent years training then one day he told me he could teach me no more, and that I should start go out and see the world and make a name for myself.  In those years I learned to accept my family’s death, but I will never be able to go back to the blazestone and if I hear anyone speaking the same language as that calass (dwarven for theif) I will pound them to a pulp.  I went on my path alone for many months until I came across several adventurers walking together. One looked oddly like a tiger, so I decided to call him wee kitty, the other look surprisingly like a dwarf and human mix ,I decided to call her Tall Dwarf, and the last was an eladrin who looked kinda unstable, I didn’t want to get on her bad side so I just call her eladrin. We had a few adventures on our way to the town.  The wee kitty said that I was pretty good with my hammer, I remained silent at that comment.  The ews (hammer) was a gift my father gave me for excelling with the tool the day before he was murdered.  It is now my dauble(treasure). When we got to the town we went to the tavern where I got a letter…

Last modified on October 3, 2012

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