Wild's Pack

[wilddog]

Name: Avoet Cursemaker

Age: 158

Race: Elf

Occupation:Scout

Allegiance: Akuborin clan

Physical Description: Like Eriak, Avoet has prominent elven features. First and foremost, the ears. Unlike the native elves, The Akuborin elves have much more elongated ears. So long that they significantly shorten them when going into populated areas. Also, Avoet has the sunk cheekbones and pointed chin, similar to all elves. The hair, though, is white. Not white like winter snow or white like an old man, but pale, like a ghost. It also is quite smooth. Unlike Eriak, he keeps his hair in tip-top condition. His eyes are quite like Eriak's, brown and unassuming. Over his forehead, he wears a charm bracelet, from a person long gone.

For the rest of his body, he is shaped much like an archer. Strong back, arms, and good eye coordination. But, Avoet will never be as good as Eriak or Dora. He doesn't have the patience and often acts rashly. He enjoys using, however, two knives he hides on his back. In a fight, he will often discard a bow and draw the small weapons. His bow is more shapely and more majestic then Eriak's.

Also, Avoet hasn't let go of his past, which is reflected on his clothes. A robe fit for a prince is highly decorated with symbols. His tunic also seems more fit for a ball rather then wallowing in the mud tracking enemies. But, spell laid on it from years ago made sure the mud didn't stain it.

Because elves don't usually hang with humans, he is able to slightly change his skin in order to adapt. Shorten the ears and fatten up the face are all minute changes and matter little to him. People in this land are so used to seeing the"High Elves" (or at least hearing about them) that a band of rugged elves can very much pass off as human.

Magic was never a part of Avoet. He was found lacking in the talent and thought is worthless. He did train his mind in blocking others out. But, for magic, the clan heavily relyed on Delo

Personality: Avoet and Eriak, two peas in a pod. Each love nature and can spend days in the forest. There, among the trees, they listen to birds sing and crickets chirp and love life. But, that is where the similarity ends. Where as Eriak will sit for day on end and hunt, Avoet had a tendency to wander around. This makes him a prime scout, for he loves to run. He can keep it up for hours an end.

This flirty behavior also shows up in the camp. He is forever bouncing around, taking care of one task after another, much to the annoyance of Delo the servant. While talking to him, it seems that he is never there with you, but is thinking about totally irrelevant things. He does, though, likes quite well when Eriak speaks. He and the old man, Bonareir Warscar, seem to love having spats all the time. He is also always teasing Rinar Icekiller for marrying the old soldier. As For Delo, he ignores him.

In battle Avoet is trustworthy, meaning he can hold his own in a fight. He doesn't need help. He always puts others over himself. But, as always, he is easily distracted by fleeing soldiers that he often gets separated from the pack. He also lets his emotions get in the way. Often times, he will risk loosing everybody trying to right wrongs. As for he and Dora, well, they are just friends. Even elves from the Akuborin tribe seldom marry.

Being a scout, Avoet seems to have a map in his head. At all times, he is aware of his surroundings. He leaves mental clues in order to find his way back. This habit is right most of the time. But there are times when he is totally wrong. This seems to bug everybody, especially Delo.

He and Eriak both have a very little grasp on magic.

Background: Avoet was sired by King Akuborin, king of the large tribe. He was a very successful speaker and a ferocious warrior that united many tribes together and formed the Akuborin tribe. For four hundred years, the tribe survived, building more cities that previously thought possible. At the peak of the empire, Avoet war born. For that start, the Empire was ready to grow. With another noble, they could conquer many more tribes. King Akuborin first tried to get the boy some influences in his life. Some high ranking boys about his age. The first ranking offical was a girl names Alie. A quite beautiful daughter of a general. They dated on and off for years, in which she gave him that braclet. But, the general was found fraud and was fired. The daughter was convicted of crimes and sentenced to jail. But, Avoet always knew of her innocence.

Then, Eriak stepped into his life, amid the grief of Alie's absence. The two met during a long festival, each getting thrown out of a bar. They decided to team up and get a drink. From that, they first became friends. At first, the King was a bit worried, with his son and a son of a trader. But is came apparent that Eriak has what it took to be a leader. Strong will, sound thinking, and a tough head. The two became inseparable, along with Dora. Together, they romped around, exploring and hunting and fishing. As they became older, they became even greater friends. Then, tragedy struck. A mysterious plague struck the tribe. To save everybody, Avoet (well, Eriak) decided to load everybody up and sail to a new world. Only six survived. Seeing that Eriak was a much better leader, Avoet gave command to him and followed him from there on out.

[wilddog]

Name: Eriak Snarlthief
Age: 160
Race: Elf
Occupation: Hunter/fighter. Clan chief
Allegiance: To the Akuborin Clan.
Physical Description: Eriak is a elf, obviously, so certain traits are apparent on him. The pointed ears. A stately appearance is coupled with an earthly feel about him. His hair is rough and jagged, much like a rope untwined. He is notorious for not cutting it, so it waves free. His face is weathered, making him look much older then he really is. His eyes are the most brownest eyes the elves can have. He has quick reflexes and a deadly accurate aim.

Eriak is a archer by nature, which reflects on his body. Strong arms, fit for pulling a bow back. His legs are muscled heavily, but he isn't the greatest runner. Callused by many years with the bow, Eriak's hands are meant for the bow, meaning he fumbles around with a sword. He can. however, use one.

Being a wild elf, he isn't dressed like the other elves. Mostly, he wears armor picked up long ago, wrapped in cloth. Most of it is torn and ripped. On the left side of his head, he wears a curious mask. It protects him from the sun when shooting.

With him at all times is his bow, sword, and knife. The sword is his line of defense, because he can barely use it. The knife is for hunting and other domestic uses.
Personality: Eriak (and by extension, the Akuborin Clan) is not what you would call civilized. Often rude, they have no regard for others. The only ones that matter are themselves and money (which they don't use, but like the look of them) Like dragons of old, they horde treasure solely due to habit. With no real allegiance to either elf or human, they roam the world, free of worry. Sometimes, they get into a fight with other bands, but generally steer clear of other life. Which is not to say they never travel into cities. When need demands of it, they will go into them, buying what little supplies they need. Because they are a mercenary band, they are constantly being hired for odd jobs, which is fun for them.

As for personally, Eriak Snarlthief is in love with nature. All of them, in fact, except Bonareir Warscar. The old soldier just won't let go of his past. Often, Eriak will walk alone among the trees. Course, he loves to hunt. Often, for days on end, he will be alone, hunting in the woods. He is the means of food for the clan.

He is also the leader of them, which means, when the situation demands it, he will step forward and take command. He doesn't love power, but will use it to save the band. The others look up at him in awe and respect him. They will jump when he says frog. It doesn't go to his head, but he takes pride in that.

Because elves are held in contempt by the humans, they magically alter themselves to appear more human. Which isn't much, since they hardly look like the High elves

History: Eriak was born Eriak Nemso, the son of a elven trader from a elvish tribe. The tribe's name was Akuborin, a tribe of wild elves living in the wilderness of Goena. From an early age, he was set apart from the rest of the pack as an exceptional archer. he would practice for hours at the skill. His parents loved that about him, and encouraged him. Growing up, Eriak became more and more connected with his bow. He also gained two friends. Avoet Cursemaker was his best friend. For days, the two would romp around, exploring hidden caves. Avoet and Eriak were the two trouble makers in the tribe. The other friend was Dora Touchslayer. Not lovers, but friends. Those two had a rivalry going on, because both of them were great archers. Life was pretty nice for the trio.

Every story, though, has a down side. After all, life isn't all roses and daisies.

The land of Goena suffered a plague. To escape it, the tribe jumped on a ship and headed out. Sadly only six members survived. Eriak Snarltheif, Avoet Cursemaker, Bonareir Warscar ( a soldier) Delo Mawwanderer (a young elf servant), Dora Touchslayer, and Rinar Icekiller (Bonareir's wife a spearwarrior) After the initial shock, they joined Eriak and made the tribe again. But, they swore not to be wrapped into the Elven plots, so they headed into the human territory, seeking jobs.

[wilddog]

Name: Ittohaut. Also known as The Dusk Trader (In his tongue: Sannan Bafatake)
Age: 84
Race: Demon
Allegiance: To himself. (As an afterthought) to the Hive
Occupation: Black Market Dealer
Physical Appearance:
Ittohaut is a demon, so characteristics on him tend to be alien to our eyes. His skull is shaped more like a dog’s, with snout to match. His skin is very tight on him and is pitted, like raining acid on a board of wood. He even has that wooden color to him. His pug eyes are always open, for he has no eyelids. More of slits then eyes, these holes seem to echo the place he used to live in, Hell. For they burn with a fire not usually seen here. It is a fire that cares about nothing and consumes everything. In his too wide mouth, lays razor-sharp teeth. Because they are curved inward, Ittohaut does not merely say words, he chews on them and spits them out. One will get shivers every single time he speaks. He rarely smiles, and only in cold humor. Unlike us, he has no hair on his head.
The rest of his body is equally grotesque. With the pitted skin all over his body, Ittohaut has the look of a skeleton, and a misshapen one at that. Unlike you and me, he has no bones, at least not in the middle. His bones are right next to the skin, and at times, part of the skin. They lace his body, moving when the muscles in the middle contract or pull. This makes him almost like a beetle, but with a little more flexibility. His hands are slightly larger then human’s and has six fingers, two of which are thumbs. This is just fine while grabbing objects, but for sword work, this is a curse. His legs are also different, as being more akin to goats feet then human. They do, however, have five toes each.
Being used to the underground happenings, Ittohaut is quite fine with carrying a sword. If in danger, he can wield is quite nicely. However, he prefers other people to do the dirty work, so the sword to him is a walking stick. His clothing consists of a brown cloak, hood, and gloves. His cloak used to be black, but it is now reddish brown, like it is covered with darkened clay dust. The hood is so shaped as to hide the demon qualities of his head. A side glance, he will look almost human. The gloves are just to hide his skin.
Personality: Ittohaut is a typical crook. He has no regard for rules, except that which are laid down by the Queen. Other people are of little concern to him. He hates, also, any authorities. Absolutely loathes them, to the point of being ridiculously annoying to them. And at the heart of all matters, is his lust for gold. All crooks have it, even those that say otherwise. In the end, whatever a crook does, it is for money. Ittohaut is also never satisfied. There is never enough money for him. There is another part of him, less common in the rabble. In fact, it is quite rare among us mortals. Deep down, pass the lust for gold, though much smaller then it, is the desire to do evil. He takes great joy, apart from the profits, in stealing and cheating against somebody. It fills him with what we know as satisfaction on a new creation of ours, or new achievement. Sort of a pride in us.
Being a demon, many characteristics are shown through him. First and foremost, he is never seen sleeping. Almost sleeping less then the elves do, Ittohaut usually expects his crew to feel the same way. Because demons and angels are a much older race then even the elves, they speak with archaic accent. Many thees and thous. But, Ittohaut is one of those people that rarely talk. Almost never in fact, at least not in the common tongue. So, he relies greatly on his right hand man, the Shadow. All of the people in the team have different names. None know each other by their real names. The sole exception if Ittohaut, but the rest never use that name. The Shadow is one of the few people that really relate to Ittohaut. But, demons have no words for trust.
He also, still, has an extreme hatred for angels. If anything ever happens, he will mumble “Laanci, mala'ikan” (as far as we can determine, that means, curse you, angels. However, that may not be the real ). He will often slip into this mode of speech, whenever angry or excited. People would find this odd and a bit creepy, but he is used to it. He also has no real understanding of love and friendship. But he can use it to twist people in doing his bidding. Ittohaut steers clear of the Rider’s Headquarters or the wilderness. Rabbits aren’t interested in goods, but people. And people live in cities.
History: As we all know, demons are spirits. They weave in and out of our lives, causing terror and chaos. Their chief enemy, of course, is the angel, beings that bring us joy and peace. Now, many people bring these two creatures into their religions and beliefs, but in fact, these two beings have no interest in us. In fact, those that come into our lives are either banished or sent here to die (though, both of those are usually though of as one reason they are here). However, it is curious to note that the demons that are in shades differ greatly from these demons. Those demons are from this land, as the demons that Ittohaut is a part of are from a different land (for the rest of the time, demons are referred to as Ittohaut’s, not the spirits sometimes called demons). Their real task is to gain dominance over the other. Demons live in a place whose name is so alien we humans can’t pronounce it. For this is troublesome to some, priests simply call it Hell now. Angels are the same thing, name un-pronounceable and we call it Heaven. Now, don’t ask me where they are, for I have not been there, and am not planning to for a long time. Just be content in knowing that they don’t live here. Each “nation”, if I may, are ruled by powers to immense to imagine. They fight much like us, swords, catapults, and other siege weapons. However, their magic is much more advanced then ours. Using it, they have created wonders and terrors. However, both sides are worried about sneaky maneuvers from the opposing side, they met in Jenasd to discuss certain rules. The leader of the demons and the leader of the angels hammered out rules to make this a fair fight. To us, this seems ridiculous and even a bit childish, but remember, these beings are alien to our puny understanding. The Jenasd Accords thus far are iron and absolute laws. Nobody strays from them. However, these accords do not tell what a demon or an angel should not do. Rather, it tells them what the consequences of their actions. An angel or demon that breaks a “law” is sentenced to banishment or death in our world. Those that are banished loose their powers and their respect, and are never heard of again. They also transform into grotesque humans-like forms, since demons are more spirits then actual beings. Because the Jenasd Accords only count the punishments, demons and angels must learn the rules early on. In Hell, this means School. And this is where our story begins.
Ittohaut was a normal demon. He despised his parents and they him. He had a hatred for the angels, and feared the higher powers. The other spirits around him all hated him and he hated everybody. Typical behavior in Hell. When he was of age, he was sent off to the school. There, he would learn everything he needs to know, from language to how to kill. He also learned the rules. Never piss off the Higher ups. That about sums it up. In class, he quickly rose up, partly because of his grades, but mostly because of his talents. Ittohaut could create such weapons that even the Head Master, Satan (surprise!) noticed the young spirit. He graduated with honors and came to a workshop, creating his masterpieces. The Angels started calling him, “the Angel of Death” The Higher powers of the demons paid no attention to the name. Ittohaut continued this work for years, until he made a dire mistake.
One day, Ittohaut came upon an idea so terrible, the demons paid him five times as much to produce it. They named it, well, you couldn’t understand it, and I know I don’t. Intrigued, Ittohaut started working on it immediately. However, a restless reporter decided to watch in secret over him. What became apparent from the beginning was the fact that Ittohaut was making way too many of them. The reporter turned worried and started to do some research. Not on his weapons, but the Angel’s. Like most great artists, the maker had a theme in many of his weapons. The reporter found this theme in weapons that the beings of Light used. However, the reporter fell under attack. The city he staid at was suddenly attacked by the angels and their new weapon. The same weapon that Ittohaut created. When others saw this, partly from accounts of the battle, partly because of the reporter’s notes being found, they arrested Ittohaut. Apparently, the demon sold all of his weapons, slightly modified, to the angels (hence the name ANGEL of Death), in addition to his selling them to demons. Outraged, the Demon Judge held trial that day and condemned Ittohaut to life long banishment to Alagasia for selling weapons on both sides.

Outclassed, rejected, doomed to die on this miserable piece of land we call home, Ittohaut wandered the Silent Plains. For twenty years, he wasted away. Then came a calling. In part, it was spiritual, but since Ittohaut was no longer a spirit, he ignored that side of it. But, another banished demon met him on the plains. This one lived for twenty years on this land, a feat the demons though impossible. The secret, was doing what you loved the most. For demons, that was tough. The old demon loved being alone, so he lived here. Ittohaut, continued to wander, but had a new thought. He loved money. But, a demon like him could not go out in public. Not with his body. So, he traveled to Cerioun. There, he found the beauty of the Black Market. Goods could be stolen and sold for pure profit. Naturally, this intrigued Ittohaut, and he immediately joined it. As an associate to the Hive, he worked under their laws. The Queen was his Queen. At least, outwardly. In the inside, he cared little for other people. But, he didn’t want that do get between him and a handsome profit. Gathering the name; Shadow Trader, he dominated a small gang and turned it into his helpers. Only ten of them, five humans and five elves. They came from shady pasts and all pledge themselves to the Hive and the Shadow Trader. From then on, Ittohaut became a dealer. He and his team would steal items from Cerioun and sell them for a slightly cheaper price then others. He would then keep the money.
Role Playing:
Ittohaut snarled at the men. They weren’t moving quick enough. As it was already night, nobody was likely to see them. But, these humans were moving too slow. The team has raided a ship from a foreign nation brought back textiles and silk. They were to be bought by dealers and sold at a small profit. Not the Dusk Trader though. Why pay for them when you can steal them? Already, they have acquired four cargo boxes full of imported goods. This one will be their last. The Shadow bellowed orders and the four other humans ran to follow. “You worthless bag of maggots, carefully now. Bear, stop that racket and get working” The Bear, a great brute of a man, followed orders. With something resembling ease, the men worked methodically. Ittohaut walked over to the boxes and stared into one. Inside lay another box. The men left the opening of this one to the leader. Straining, he opened the casket. In it, lay a note that read “Gatcha ya” In a frustrated voice, he cried out, well spat out, “Laanci, mala'ikan” Shaken, the crew fled.

Cursing again, Ittohaut followed them. They ran with a pace a doomed man would run, fleeing the authorities. If they would look behind them, they would see police chasing after them. Each man had different emotions playing on their face. Shadow loved the chase and felt no anxiety. Bear was too scared to think rationally. Another man though little about the chase, his mind to his daughter, of whom he was protecting. Others felt fear. Ittohaut, though, felt quite pleased with himself. He had now idea about these police, but it was is opportunity to lose his helpers. Signaling Shadow, they spun around and entered a house. Unknowing, the authorities ran right past the open door, in hot pursuit.

[wilddog]

Name: Raniad Norerbeit
Race: Elf
Age: 394
Occupation: Writer/gold hunter
Allegiance: well, to knowledge. But also to the elves/dragon riders
Appearance: Raniad is an elf, to say the least. His ears are pointed, has a high forehead, and a pale complexion. He stands six feet one, towering over humans. Because he is three hundred some years old, is hair tends to be on the white side. Not gray, but white. His face makes children smile and adults to trust him. With hints of wrinkles all over his cheeks, many people mistake him for being old. Course, he is, but he won’t admit it. Being a writer/librarian , he always has a distant look on his face. Like he isn’t always there with you. But, one look at his face will tell you he misses nothing. The slightest hint of anything is caught by him, recorded in his brain, and sometimes, written down in his book. The rest of his body is equally elven. He is thin, lithe, and strong, for a human. But, for an elf, he is isn’t the stuff heroes is made up. He can walk for days, but running is definitely out. He has a gentle touch, a voice not to loud not too soft. Every now and then, he finds a large ink blot on his nose. Since he loves moving from place to place, the human territory isn’t a no go zone for him. With his limited ability with magic, changing his face isn’t easy, but he gets by. He won’t bop between the two countries though, preferring to stay in one spot for a time. As a human, he is noticeably old, wrinkles, white hair, and a distinct limp on the right leg. The limp is nothing real, but it throws people off their guard. Raniad is quite active. Having done a bout in the army, he was used to the rigors of the world. When the situation demands it, he will sneak around buildings, tangle with soldiers, and leap from the roof onto unsuspecting people. But, he prefers diplomatic ways out of things

For clothing, he dresses practically. With long trench coat (deep pockets) a hood, long army pants, and large rucksack on his back. His coat is waterproof, and can withstand being wet. Plus, he stays warm with it on. His shoes are usually hiking boots, with steel toes. With those, he can kick like there is no tomorrow. He also has a handkerchief, gloves, and his belt knife. The knife is five inches long and he can wield it pretty well. Since the world is a tough place to live, he carries many throwing knives around his person. Seven, at the last count; two in his boots, two up his sleeves (tucked into a secret pouch) and three in his pack. These he can throw with deadly accuracy. When traveling to mine, he usually brings a cart. The smell of donkey is particularly annoying to him, but he brings one anyway. In the car are the pick, shovel, water skin, large pieces of cloth (for anything he needs to make), cooking supplies, and a sleeping roll. These are simple tools, being available everywhere he goes. What gold he finds, he usually bundles it up and takes it with him. The gold is either traded away for money, or used as bribes. Around his neck is a curious medallion. About three inches long and two inches wide, the pendulant is made from solid diamond. He found it while mining in the dwarves country. On the back end, the diamond is faceted to reflect the sun. But the front is flat and smooth and clear. Being hollow, one can look from the front and see the contents inside. One might wonder what sort of magical liquid is in the diamond. But, it is just water. He filled it through a small hole on the top. This helps him scry anytime and anywhere. For, Raniad is a great scyer. He has traveled, most, of the world and has seen sights. He gets into army barracks and outlaw headquarters so he can see the movements of soldiers.

There is one more thing in his possession, and it is his most precious possession. A book. Or rather, The Book. The Book is Raniad’s life’s work. Everything he worked on for the past two hundred some years. The author, of course, is one Raniad Norerbeit, yours truly. On the outside, though, it doesn’t look spectacular. It doesn’t even have a title on it. Only two sea serpents, wrapped around a burning torch, with starts studding the background. This, of course, is pure for look, but is has come to be Raniad’s mark. The book is slightly larger then your average book, and is quite large. In the writer’s hands though, it looks like it is meant to be here. Raniad and the book, inseparable. Inside, is a book devoted to Alagasia. City maps, famous people, good inns, small animal feeding habits, anything, is written in this book. There is also a section devoted to potions, poisons, and other recopies. History is the only subject left out. This would be a great book, but Raniad wrote it in a peculiar short hand. Since he has an exceptional memory, the short hand reminds him rather then tells him. For instance, if the name King’s Dog followed by a name and lobster is mentioned, Raniad will remember the face of the owner, his name, the prices, and the fact the the lobster was terribly over priced and looked terrible. Being a elf, he doesn’t eat meat, therefore removing the need to hunt. Also in the book are stories, all written in shorthand, drawings done by him, even maps of popular buildings. This, of course, is his field guide to the world. He has plans for taking it and to write a book from it, but he hasn’t got around to it yet. Along the side of the book, are recopies, poems, songs, bird calls, and little notes he wrote. It isn’t part of the real book, but usually helpful. He also has a section devoted to people’s names. He can scry them whenever he pleases. Usually, they aren’t random people, but those that do good to him, or ill.

Personality: First and foremost, Raniad has an astounding memory. Part of it is due to the fact that he wrote the book himself. After spending two hundred years doing something, you tend to remember many facts. But, he also remembers events in his past. Being a librarian for some years, he always knows where books were, even in a library filled with books. Even with his great mind, though, forgetting things sometimes happens. When that happens, a good cup of cider and a pipe usually helps. The three words that anger him the most are, “I don’t remember” This coming from him or somebody else, is met with a frown and a loud grunt.

Other then his quick mind, Raniad is quite senile. He hates violence of any large kind, like war, but won’t hesitate in using his knives when threatened. He has an upright moral code, stating that stealing is wrong, murder, rape, slavery, or cheating also. Oddly, sticking ones head in other people’s business isn’t one of them. For, if it was, he would be the world’s biggest hypocrite. The Writer loves adventure, and often finds it in others. More then once, his curious nature has gotten the better of him. He isn’t one to complain freely, but, when the situation demands it (i.e a friend) he will complain into he is blue in the face. Mostly to annoy the other person. Raniad also has a very annoying mode of speech, wanting to turn everything into a question. “the weather is lovely, yes?” That sort of thing. Being also absent minded, a person speaking to him might feel him uninterested or bored. He is usually thinking about many things at once.

Being an elf, Raniad hates meat. Can’t stand even the smell. But bread, Raniad is a winner. He loves it. Every single city, he has traveled to sample the bread. He also loves cider. Hard or not, is doesn’t matter. He also loves the wilderness. The city is fine and all, but to be outside, is where Raniad is truly free. That is where he writes, fishes (which is where quite addicted to) and mining. He is often called a mountain man, for his love of the high hills. He can be gone up to a year in the hills, writing and fishing and digging. He doesn’t care for history. If a person has a record for being a criminal, Raniad will still trust him. Until he proves untrustworthy. Likewise, he isn’t interested in a deity or anything. Things are what they are and he is happy. He also values friendship above all else. He is also a little flirty. Many times, he acts like a little child, always ready for some excitement. When the night wears on, brawling is sometimes the funnest thing to do. After sampling many bars for years, Raniad has become quite a fighter (drunk to drunk only)

The Book, since it is his life, is very precious to him. If it were to be stolen, he would about crack. He is very possessive of it and will keep it close to him. He might let people read it, if they could understand his shorthand

History: Raniad was born close to the Blue Divide. His father died in the war quite early, so he has no recollection of him. Growing up, his mother was always impressed with him. He could speak at an early age, walk, and remember details even she couldn’t remember. As a youth, Raniad fell in love with knowledge. For hours, while him mother cooker, he would read book after book. He also, at a early age, found a girlfriend. Akeme was a cute elf who lived next door. For years, the two dated back and forth. Akeme was seriously looking at marriage, but Raniad thought he wasn’t ready. So, in the silence of night, he stole from home and joined the army. Naturally, the family was deeply distressed and, once they found out where he was, begged him to come home. But he said no. It was in the army he learned to use the sword and the knife. Then, while doing maneuvers one day, Raniad stumbled and fell off a small cliff. He wasn’t badly injured, in fact, in a few years, he was fine. But the incident proved that he wasn’t fit for a soldier.

He returned home the next week and rejoined him mother. Akeme has now grown up and moved out of the city. Sad, Raniad fell to the only thing he knew, books. After seeing him read for hours, the mother recommended a job at the library. He held that job for sometime, but it was again not suited for him. He would be endlessly bored and would often run away to fish. But he loved books, and even dabbled in writing some. However, his mother died one day and Raniad threw away the plans for a book. What he wanted was to do something. Packing up his belonging once again, he set out for the mines. He came friends with the elves and started to dig. Lo and behold, under the earth, he struck a solid gem in the caves. It was blueish and ovalish, and quite large. Overjoyed, the dwarves promised him that they would sculpt the rock into anything he wanted. This was a tough question for him, so he kept the rock and left, promising to be back. While traveling, Raniad suddenly had an idea. What about a book and was more of a guide to the world? Such a book could help ambassadors, soldiers, and the common elf (and man). With this, The Book came into existence.

At first, nobody wanted to write it. Such a book would consume the person’s life, and no elf wanted to be bogged down in it. Finally, one writer promised to teach Raniad how to write. What was apparent from the start was the fact that he was no ordinary writer. Yes, he never written a book before, but Raniad had what it took. Course, his teacher thought the book to be a bad idea also. Finally, Raniad set out on his own. With book, writing style, and shorthand down pat, he could now step into the real world. Packing his belonging for the last time, he set out. Stopping at Ilia Feon, he started to write. What came immediately apparent was that he didn’t need to write a whole lot. His mind could fill in the gaps. Also, he found the beauty of scrying. Then, after nine months, he finally had a use for the diamond. Racing back to the dwarves, he begged them to make it. But they had already forgotten about him, at least, all but one. That one was a fellow miner who was with Raniad when he discovered the gem. Delighted to see him again, the two began working on the jewel. When it was completed, the elf set out once again, this time traveling into human territory. For two hundred years, he walked along the are, cataloging and writing.

Role Playing example: I finished the excellent meal and loudly congratulated the cook. In part, that sounded like a burp mixed with “Very good meal, is it not” The other customers looked at me, disapprovingly, and then focused their attention back on the food. “Well, we were all thinking it” I muttered to the cook standing next to me. Allen Grang, the owner and chef of the inn, whole heartily agreed. Even he was impressed with his meals. The bread was particularly good. Jotting down a quick note, I motioned Allen to take a seat. We were friends for a while, about the time I spent here in Teirm. Even though I spent most of my time digging, I still went here. Allen smiled at me and walked into the bar, returning a while later with two cups of cider. Bless his heart. “Thanks Allen. Now why don’t you sit and tell me, how did your interview with your soon to be wife go?” Allen smiled sheepishly and answered. “Well old man, it didn’t go as planned”

Interrupting him, I exclaimed, “What?! A woman caught your tongue?”

Laughing, Allen playfully swatted me, “No, you old wind bag. Merely, her parents didn’t like me. Thought I was too old for her. What do you think, Raniad?”

“I think you are older then dirt, yes”

“No, the girl was only five years younger then me, but it doesn’t matter, they refused to marry us. Now, I guess I am still single”
Mockingly, I raised my glass in a toast. Laughing again, Allen raised his and then proceeded to drain the contents. His inn, called the King’s Footstool, was quite busy tonight. A family ate at one end, and at the other, a large man snored. The bar was packed also, with men talking and occasionally shouting. Dogs ran here and there, often followed by a train of children. Outside, the night became nearer and nearer. Glancing at Allen, I asked, “So, what’s next for you?”

“Well, I don’t know, I might try that redhead again. She was interested in me, but frankly, she snores quite loudly.”

“No, you dolt, is that the only thing you think of? I mean what are you going to do next?”

“I know perfectly well what you mean, but I will play you little game. I really have no plans for the future. The inn is doing great, I have two sons, and a warm place to sleep, albeit all by myself”

“Come now, surely not every woman will spit in your face. Give it time. As for me, I am turning in” At that moment, a curious fellow walked in. He was grim-faced, with the scar just crowing the effect. It looked like a dagger mark, running from left eye to the tip of the chin. Why did all scars seem to be that way? The man wore a black coat, well, the outside was black, the inside was red. He had a ring on one finger, a sword strapped to his side, and in his grip, a young lad. With tear streaked face, the boy tried to run away, but to no avail. Allen stood and confronted the newcomers.

“Why are you here? What do you want, Grey?” Grey, a name for the book. Silently, so not to attract attention, I quickly wrote the name down. The man looked cold and detached, but when he spoke, it was like pure honey. “Why, nothing at all, my good man. I am only looking for a buyer of this fine specimen.” At this, the boy started to cry. I instantly hated that man Grey. Digging around in my pack, I closed my fist over a gold nugget. Perfect, no child should go though this. The best I can do it give him his freedom.

“You boy, can you work. Speak up boy, I might need some help in the mines, yes? Can’t talk? Good. I can’t bear a talking kid. You, mister with the scar, how much?” I said, though clenched teeth and a rough voice. (cider does marvels to the throat. I could never speak that roughly before, without it cracking) The child looked at me with horror in his eyes, until he saw me wink. Grey didn’t see that though and he sold me the child. Sitting the lad down, I wisperred to him, “Its all right. Why don’t you eat and tell me where you family is” He calmed down and ate with that intensity little boys have. Allen gave me a weird look, then went to get the boy more to eat. All in all, it was a pretty successful day. I mined a little, found some gold, and bought a boy with a wooden nugget.

[wilddog]

Avoet: A Wolf's hunt

Eriak: Summertime killer

Raniad: A sticky paradox. Fifty reasons

Ittohaut: No threads

Coming soon:

Count Mongoth of Aroughs