Kurik stared out from his window into the crowded streets of Waterdeep. Having been his home for the greater part of his life, the now 18 year old barbarian from the north was accustomed to the comings and goings of civilization. Always simple in thought, Kurik was a child of few words, though his personality showed a rural charm and he grew to be beloved by most around him.
He knew little of his parents. He had not met either of them since he could remember. He knew he was the son of Yarthra Hawkfeather, though he hadn't seen her since she had spirited him away on a merchant caravan with a note for her sister Duna. His mind filled with doubts, he still grew strong under the care of "Aunti Duna". She had assumed him at a young age to be gifted with shamanic ritual, and as this was her only experience, began to teach him. His prowess grew more in strength of body than power of the mind and as he reached his 12th birthday, a day of passage for most shamans of his people, he was not prepared for the trials that would welcome him into the world of spiritualism. Instead, he showed extreme tendancy toward his mother, Yarthra.
Under the care of Duna, he was a happy, respectful child. He was hard pressed to kill, even for food, though he would if needs be. Fortunately, Aunti Duna possessed skills that kept him nourished as he grew ever stronger. "Who is my father?" he asked non-chalantly one day, around his 11th birthday. Duna's heart dropped, she had been expecting this question for years and yet was not prepared when those fated words escaped his lips. "I mean, does he not love me?" Kurik spoke with honest doubt and tear-rimmed eyes. "You are loved, no matter what...unfortunately I cannot answer that for you." Momentarily appeased with his Aunt's words of love and comforting demeanor, he let the question fall into the long list of mysteries surrounding his yet short life.
It wasn't until a trip to visit Tolok, the Tempurian shaman of Grunwald, that Kurik gained insight on his life. During the trip, he would spend many hours talking and sparring with the guardsmen. They were innately drawn to the odd, simple charm of this wide-eyed child. He carried with him a LARGE bone, a "Soov Neer" he picked up during the trip. The guards took a good natured bit of humor in telling him that the enormous bone was part of a chicken. Thoroughly convinced, Kurik called it his chicken bone and it never left his side. As the trip continued, the guards jovially informed him, that they weren't SURE but they thought it was magical. "How will I know" Kurik asked with rapt attention. "Trust me, mah boy". an elder caravan guard stated, gesturing wildly, "when the time comes, you'll know it." He tossed Kurik a wink, and with a slight click of his cheek, urged his mount forward.
Later that evening, Kurik, convinced that his "chicken bone" was magical, snuck away from the perimeter of the camp out into the wilds surrounding Luskan. As he ventured in the dark, scratching his head while trying some of the magic words he had heard his aunt use, he stumbled into the path of a rather angry looking orc, eyeing his newfound victim hungrily. "Get back!" Kurik warned, "My chicken bone is MAGIC!" The orc sneered and let out a horrible chuckle that promised both swift death and worse to the young barbarian child. Gripping his magic bone tightly, Kurik moved toward the oblivious orc captain, swinging wildly. As his third or fourth swing neared the captains chest, the orc parried it easily, slicing a portion of the bone off cleanly in the process. The momentum of the remarkably strong child's swing,however, took the newly formed sharp edge across the orcs throat, leaving him gasping in complete shock as the evil glow of his eyes dimmed. Kurik, none-to-surprised, spoke firmly "You should've listened to me, I told you it was magic." as he watched the orc die. His quest fulfilled and his bone proven, he ran back to the encampment and returned to his aunts tent and slept peacefully, cradling his magic chicken bone.
The arrival at Grunwald, the home of Kurik's grandparents, Fama and Romok Hawkfeather, was alive with welcome and well-wishes. They had been awaiting the arrival of the grandchild they had helped into the world of tradition that is the barbarian lifecycle. As the sun dipped into the horizon that warm day in Elesias, a feast was prepared, showing with unerring certainty, where Duna had learned her skills at homemaking. Romok sat listening as his grandchild relayed the story of his encounter with the orc, and with a smile of equal parts pride and barely contained laughter, his magic chicken bone. Duna of course, was struck with worry that he had taken leave on his own and obviously could've been hurt. With a firm but warm voice Fomok told his daughter, "He nears the age of accountability, he must seek to defend himself from dangers, it is the way of our people."
After a brief respite from the road, it came time for the meeting with Tolok to occur. Kurik was sent to speak with him in the longhall dedicated to Tempus. As Kurik approaced, bone strapped to his back, the elder man looked him over sternly. "You have grown since I saw you last, I see that your aunt has not shirked her generously taken burden." "This does not surprise me." After a few hours of testing, the child Kurik, was told to retrieve his aunt and return home. As Duna approached, she gave a bow of respect. "He is not to be a shaman." Tolok stated flatly. "I suspected this much, and should've had the foresight to begin his training elsewhere." Duna returned, slightly crestfallen. "I am not here to tell you what you should and should not do." he continued "I am sure your father has delivered that scolding already regardless, such is his way." Duna looked up, and nodded slightly. "He is to be trained as if he were both a warrior and a speaker of the ancestors." said Tolok finally after an extended pause. "It is the wishes of Tempus that this child be strong in war, it is the wishes of the ancestors, that he remain open to the spirit world, for his is a destiny fraught with peril to those who close their mind to it." Duna nodded again, thought confused as to the purpose, she knew that Tolok spoke only wisdom. She returned to her childhood home, to the child she had raised and prepared to help him into his future, uncertain as it was.
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