Humble beginnings...

It was a normal day in Fieldan, a rural farming village in the northeastern region of the nation of Llanowar, home to an unlikely band of ususpecting heroes. First, let us introduce these chief characters. For starters we have a man by the name of Argos. While not a native of the village, Argos has become a good friend of the Malton, head of the Council of Elders, for Malton is the only person with whom Argos has ever shared his deepest secret. Moving along we have Brom, a rather umremarkable fellow at first glance, Brom is more than one might expect. He is young, but not without experience. He is practiced with a blade, but there is something more to him. Upon his birth Brom was deemed special, a shaman of the earth declared him the “Chosen One” and fortold of a prophecy, that led either to his triumph, or his damnation. Though one wouldn’t know it to look at him, as Brom is about as carefree as they come, and always quick to laugh. Still, Brom is not the strangest of the group. The lead in that category is closely contested. We shall begin with the eldest of the group. Wil Turnner, better known as the infamous, Dread Pirate Roberts, is certainly the most traveled of them all. He has seen many a distant land, and his previous deeds are a tale all their own. Perhaps as a result of his many misadventures, Roberts’ is not without his demons. He is possessed by a strange voice that inhabits his thoughts. At times it goads him to do things, sometimes terrible, however the consequences of disobedience can be far worse. Moving right along we have Oris, the black sheep of the bunch. Quite literally, Oris’ skin is virtually all a deep midnight black, with patterns of gray dispersed all over his body. He is a Deva, and that trait alone marks him as an outsider. One day Oris awoke, finding himself all alone in the middle of a wheat field, the only memory he possessed was that of the sounds of battle and a bright, all consuming light. He had just reincarnated, though he knew not how long it had been since his last life. For devas do not die, but rather upon the end of their mortal forms they are reincarnated within another, sometimes instantly, and sometimes not for millennia. Oris, upon waking, began to wander, he eventually wandered his way into the village of Fieldan, though since he had just been through rebirth, he had none of his old possessions, and as such no clothes. The Council gave him some tools and linens, and set him off to the outskirts of the settlement, to build his own home, and till the fields. So he has been doing ever since. Next we have Z, simply Z. He was part of an experiment, an accidental part, which drove the wizard that created him to abandon him as a child. He led for the most part a normal life, though he was shunned by most of the village as a freak. This led to his almost constant presence within the library, studying all the creatures and lore he could find. And finally that brings us to Cailen Theras, a woodsman who built his cabin within the peaceful forest nearby the village. He lives there with his loving wife Gelena. And so now we return to that fateful day, when all the village went about their normal routine, Z intent on his studies, Brom wandering about the village center, and Roberts in his usually place standing in the horse trough, singing sailor’s ditties.
“YO-HO, YO-HO, A PIRATE’S LIFE FOR ME!” came the raucous singing of the fearsome Dread Pirate. But this was no new occurance, and as such the townsfolk payed it little heed. But there were indeed intent upon what happened next. At that moment a horrified man came running into the square. He was covered in gore, from head to toe, and began shouting wildly. The man demanded to see whomever was in charge, and finally Argos came to take him to the council. Meanwhile the madman’s rantings had set Roberts into a fit, and he began running about the square, flailing his greatsword to a fro. The man had brought a crowd, and even Z came out to see the spectacle. The man had been so drenched in blood that much of it was still present on the ground, just as the crowd began to speculate on what had happened, Robert’s believed that an orc army had attacked the neighboring village of Wheatfell, and had slaughtered everyone there. When Malton emerged from the building.
“We have just learned of a great tragedy,” he announced, “It seems that our neighboring village, Wheatfell, has been attacked by an army of orcs, who slaughtered everyone there. As such I have appointed Argos to lead a volunteer company to investigate these reports. Is there anyone here willing to join him?”
The Dread Pirate Roberts lept up with gusto, “I shall go!” he exclaimed.
“Ooh, me too!” Brom was not about to be left behind.
“Protocol dictates that I must go…” Z volunteered,
“Well then,” Malto continued, when it seemed no one else was about to step forward. “I shall have a contingent of the militia meet you at the crossroads, good luck to you all”
And with that the party set forth.



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