An Introduction....

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rer
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An Introduction....

Postby rer » Wed Dec 08, 2004 5:17 am

OOC: Lirela mentioned that a good way for me to find a hook would be to flesh out my background story, so here goes – any input is welcome! **EDIT** My apologies, but this has grown quite long, just a warning… ** /OOC

A twelve year old boy stood amongst his peers. Already he was a head taller than most boys his age, and was starting to fill out. It was clear that he was well liked by the other boys, and girls, his age. They prattled on around him, vying for his attention. Yet, despite the commotion, a glazed look was in his eye, as he stared off, as if in thought, looking right over the heads of his companions. He didn’t laugh at their jokes, return the girls coquettish smiles, or join in the good natured ribbings that his friends were doling out to each other. He remained calm, serene, and quiet.

Suddenly, he shook his head, glanced about at the kids near him, and quickly picked up on their conversations. Noticing that attention was finally being paid to them, the crowd grew a bit rowdier. Over the din, a wise, old voice called out. The young boy froze, and slowly turned to face the intruder. Even though he recognized the voice, he had to see the man to truly let it sink in.

As his eyes’ met the old man’s, the boy calmly told his friends to leave, but to meet him back in that exact spot in exactly 3 hours. Everything is exact with children that age, mainly because they had no concept of how precise one must be to be exact.

“So, you thought you could escape your afternoon lessons, Rer?” the old man began. The boy mumbled something that could only be taken for a no and a hasty apology, his eyes downcast. “If you wish to be a Shaman, to lead this tribe, you know how hard you must study. Surely your parents told you that when they sent you to live, and learn, with me?”

“Yes, they did,” the boy responded sullenly. It had only been a year since his parents had sent him away, and he still missed them terribly. Yet, despite the initial resentment, and the continual efforts to avoid his lessons, the boy had grown quite fond of the old Wise One, the Ghost Bear’s Shaman. The two lived well out of the area that the Clan had recently begun calling their town, but still well within the boundaries of the Tribe.

As his love grew for the old man, his resentment had faded, until now, unwilling as he was to learn prayers to his ancestors in order that he be granted their aid, he genuinely enjoyed living in the more secluded wilderness.

The old man peered at the boy inquisitively, and then his eyes popped wide open. “You’ve had another vision, haven’t you? A blessed event where your ancestors came and spoke to you? Just now, while your friends were here?” The boy nodded.

That was why the boy had been sent to live with the old man in the first place. Those visions. Most of his Clan, even amongst the Shamans, needed special prayers or a vision quest to receive the blessed wisdom of their ancestors. For Rer, it was different. He had grown up with the ability to communicate with his ancestors seemingly at will. He never asked questions of them, trusting them to have the insight necessary to answer questions Rer did not even know to ask. However hard he tried though, he could not persuade his ancestors to provide him with even the slightest bit of spiritual power. He could not so much as gain their protection from injury, their invisible armor that was like suit of mail from the spiritual plane. His mentor told him not to worry, but the boy could not help it.

“Well, that is good. At least our ancestors have enough faith in you to continue providing their assistance. Come, let us meditate and pray. And so they sat, and so they prayed. An hour passed. Then another. And a third. When yet another hour passed, the sun beginning to dip below the skyline, Rer grew worried. His friends should have been back long ago. There was something wrong, very wrong.

An arrow whistled out of the trees, catching the old man unaware, but fortunately only catching his arm. Faster than the boy would have thought possible, his tutor whirled to his feet, already beginning an incantation. So finally, Rer thought, I will be able to see the value of this magic that the Shaman touts so loudly. Being a boy just at the verge of manhood, Rer’s thoughts gravitated towards battle, towards strength and dominance, not prayer as had been his lot for the last year. His instincts told him to stay low and out of the Shaman’s way; to let him work his magic and defend the two of them.

Duergar dwarves started pouring out of the shadows of the trees. They were moving too quick for the young boy’s mind to process just how many of them there were. His best guess was twenty, but he had no idea if he was right or wrong. As the Shaman called upon their ancestors might, the dark dwarves nearest him began cringing in pain, their souls being tormented by those beyond the grave. Again and again the Shaman shouted and danced, prayed and sang, and each time one or more of the attackers would writhe in agony.

As the battle progressed, the boy quickly realized that the lone shaman, despite the aid of the Great Ghost Bear, spirit totem of the tribe, and all of his ancestor’s help, was going to lose, and quickly, if nothing was done to turn the tide and stem the flow of the onslaught. The dwarves persistence was unbelievable, and they closed in on the Shaman, albeit slowly and painfully. The boy was torn momentarily, caught in the mental battle between fight or flight, as his position, too, was close to becoming compromised. Suddenly, a dwarf popped out of the shadows behind his friend and mentor, and the time for action arose.

Rer sprang to his feet, yelling wildly, and ran towards the sneaky creature behind his friend. As he ran, he reached down and wrenched a sword out of the dead, cooling hand of one of the dwarves. While not fully grown, he was a good deal taller than the largest of the duergar attackers and knew enough to use that extra reach to his advantage. His instinct to hold his enemies as far as possible is the only thing that saved his life that day, in fact. He reached the surprise attacker at just the right time, slicing the sword wildly towards his opponents head as soon as he thought he could reach him.

As the tip of his sword whistled through the air, the dwarf went into action as well, whipping the blade of a dagger up in a vicious arc.

Just as Rer felt his own sword bite deep into the short man in front of him, he felt a searing pain start at his chin and wind itself up his face towards his left eye. The pain caused him to pitch forward, unconscious, sword still sticking into the skull of the dwarf who had sliced open his face in return. The two fell into a heap, motionless.

* * *

When the boy came to, his face was throbbing, and he could not see out of his left eye. His hand was still involuntarily clenched around the handle of the sword he had grabbed from the dwarfs dead hand. Wiping away a matte of blood from his face, Rer found himself staring directly at the corpse of his mentor and friend. Without heed for the consequences, Rer leaned his head back, face to the sky, and emitted a primal, feral scream of angst. Littered about the clearing were the bodies of his enemies, yet the only one that mattered was the Shaman, the only one who could help him with his visions.

Rer spent that night, and the following day, grieving in silence. The next night, he solemnly buried his old friend in that clearing, laying the Shaman’s totem bear on his chest, and walked away from the scene forever.
teflor the ranger
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Postby teflor the ranger » Wed Dec 08, 2004 7:44 am

I appreciated this piece. The subdued undertone lent a flashback-like experience.

Does Rer have any sort of aversion or ill-feeling towards dwarves at the present?
Duna
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Postby Duna » Wed Dec 08, 2004 3:04 pm

Nice story Rer :)
Sesexe
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Postby Sesexe » Wed Dec 08, 2004 6:44 pm

Thanks for taking the time to write it and post it.

Thumbs up! :)


Question, does Rer have a scar? or blind in one eye?
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Postby Sonon » Fri Dec 10, 2004 10:51 pm

that was a very cool story
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rer
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Postby rer » Sat Dec 11, 2004 12:38 am

Rer does bear a scar down the left side of his face, and he does grumble about even the best natured of dwarves at times. He's old enough now to realize that there are differences between Mountain/Hill (Good) Dwarves and the despised Duergar.
teflor the ranger
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Postby teflor the ranger » Sat Dec 11, 2004 4:54 am

What about short people in general? :)

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