Description
A purple-skinned giant towers nearby, inspecting his surroundings.
The gaze of his grayish-silver eyes is somewhat self-righteous, like
you would expect from a paladin or a priest. However, he doesn't seem
to have a condescending expression, at least not in the present moment.
His head is short-haired while the face is more or less cleanly shaven,
contrary to what one would expect of a giant male.
He looks moderately lean in shape, his posture uncertain and one shoulder
slightly higher than the other. Looking at the armor he's clad in you
notice a multitude of scratches and dents, probably a sign of numerous
cruel battles in which Thera seemingly never had any deficiency. Though
he seems to take care of his armor, it is obvious that it has endured
many repair attempts, some of which were not so successful.
Role
A goblin child
Added Thu Nov 4 23:10:52 2021 at level 34:
Can't count bodies that I piled across the goblin land,
But then I ran into a child and couldn't raise my hand.
I saw her aura, crimson red, or was it just my rage?
Yet I would rather end up dead than strike a kid her age.
She didn't notice all the strife, just playing in the mud.
What had she seen throughout her life but poverty and blood?
How could it ever come this way? My blade was dripping red.
That goblin man I had to slay, perhaps it was her dad?
I don't remember how I got that eve to camp of Light,
But I can swear to a God I can't forget the sight:
A somber giant, looking wild, all soiled in goblin gore,
And tiny fearless greenskin child, forsaken in the war.
I could maneuver day by day until I'm gray and old,
But can I ever fend away the violence of the world?
This kind of answer might reside beyond the mortal reach,
Perhaps it's time to choose a side and ask eternal Witch.
Ados of foster fatherhood
Added Mon Nov 8 05:53:09 2021 at level 41:
I have got my share of condemnation when I showed up in the camp with a little greenskin child
behind the bosom. Most soldiers were from nearby Galadon, so aversion towards the goblin folk
was a part of their culture for many generations. Wherever wisdom of the crowd is involved,
logic is known to be strengthless, so I didn't even think of starting any discussion. Luckily
for me and for the child, the campaign was over, and I managed to return home without having
to fight or to desert the company.
However, I didn't even want to return to Galadon with a goblin child. I gathered whatever modest
belongings I had and headed straight for Hamsah Mu'tazz. Was not an easy journey, and living
in the eastern city proved to be no peach either. I started healing people for money to make
a living, in spite of the code which calls us paladins to charity. Whoever conducted the code
didn't probably took in consideration that one can feed a child neither with gratitude, nor
with just unleavened bread and water.
She was too small to speak when I picked her up, so I had to give her a name. I called her Estel,
which means last hope in an elven dialect. I had a hope that I could raise her into a sane,
self-reliant being that can live for her own pleasure, instead of becoming a violent savage or
a docile birthing machine like all goblin females seem to be doomed to.
Just few months passed after our arrival to Hamsah when I was awaken by a horrible noise just
past midnight. My worst fears came true - a lynch mob surrounded the house, its ringleaders
yelled something hateful, stirring up the crowd. A few of them I even knew since I tended to
their wounds or ailments previously. I knew the flimsy pine door could not hold them for any
significant time, so I grabbed the halberd, hoping to sell my life at a higher price. Estel
was awakened too, but showed no signs of fear, though I could swear she knew we're both in
mortal danger. There was no time to tend to her, I just swung the door open and stepped into
a semi-circle of bawling drunk bastards armed with pitchforks, cudgels and torches. I knew
I won't survive and somehow it gave me courage.
But just as first stones were thrown at me, a huge pillar of lightning materialized out of
nowhere and stroke one of those hapless stone slingers, leaving nothing but a pile of smoking
ash. A mere fraction of second later deafening roll of thunder roared, and what seemed to
be a formidable bloodthirsty crowd turned instantly into a pathetic handful of scattering
cowards. Only a lean figure draped in some inconspicuous cape remained on an improvised
battleground, sizzling with arcs of lightning and smelling of sea thunderstorm.
"There will be no violence in the city", said the invoker calmly and it is then when I
learned that protection of the Blood Tribunal is no empty phrase.
Learning my boundaries
Added Mon Nov 8 08:25:16 2021 at level 41:
Swift justice in form of electrocution calmed local vigilantes for years. However, I couldn't help but
sleep in armor for the first few nights after the incident until my entire body started hurting so
badly that I had to abolish this prudent yet very inconvenient practice.
Raising a child, though, proved to be an everyday struggle, sometimes driving me to a brink of sanity.
I knew that I couldn't afford to hit her or yell at her, lest that I wanted to break her trust once
and forever. Thus I had to face an enemy more dreadful than a bunch of poorly armed peasants - my own
bad temper.
They told me that a paladin should make right choice every time. What a beautiful slogan! Pity that it
has little to do with real life. Gods know how many times I wanted to hit Estel, how many times I had
to grab my own hair to stop myself from screaming at her. With passing time I became better at keeping
myself within boundaries, but I guess I was never perfect.
Given all the odds, the overall direction we drifted in was satisfactory. Her red aura thinned with
passing months, and the day came when it wasn't there anymore, no matter how hard I squinted my eyes.
I have no idea of how do these auras really work, yet I was really excited that day, happy for Estel,
and somewhat smug because my theory about upbringing having more impact than racial blood was now
backed with some evidence.
We didn't live rich, because I never were that proficient as a healer. I learned boundaries of my skill
the hard way: one day they brought in a sick sorceress. I instantly recognized her as a Tribunal mage
who saved us from the lynch mob. No idea what was happening to her, but it was clear that she rapidly
withered before my eyes. I did what I could, yet she got weaker and weaker with every passing hour.
A true master of healing arts, not a mere paladin, was needed to even attempt saving her, but none were
available since a fierce epidemic was ravaging Arkham at that time. I could only watch the unfortunate
woman flouncing in fever, probably fighting some imaginary criminals from her past. Her death was
horrible and unmerited, especially given that most of the cruel bastards who tried to murder us still
lived to see the daylight. She served the justice yet no justice was served for her in the end. To this
day I sometimes find myself overwhelmed by harrowing doubts about whether I did everything within my
power to save that woman's life.
Bookthirst
Added Mon Nov 8 23:20:49 2021 at level 41:
Estel didn't seem to take interest in whatever healing or martial skills I could teach
her, instead she showed a living passion for reading. Eventually she would read nearly
all the books I dragged her from local library. There wasn't even that much, due to a
fire that destroyed most of the library ages ago. Sometimes I could purchase a book or
two from a touring merchant, but surely it wasn't enough. Alas, both the renowned
Lyceum and Eternal Library were as distant as they were alluring.
The nearest library after semi-destroyed one in Hamsah Mu'tazz was, to the best of my
knowledge, located within the accursed Chasm. It so happened that for a prolonged
period of time there were no signs of the wicked cult of Scions operating in the area.
Some disciples met their grisly end, some disappeared, and I even heard rumors of them
being gone for good.
Nobody knew though what kind of books did the Scions keep within their dark lair. I had
a hunch that it weren't neither children's tales for Estel nor healing arts treatises I
could read for the sake of my practice. Yet I felt curious, adventurous and tired of
settled life. What could possibly go wrong? Perhaps I would have to fight off a stray
gargoyle, or scare away a flock of bats who might have taken a liking to the now
abandoned Chasm.
Some secrets are best left covered
Added Mon Nov 8 23:21:57 2021 at level 41:
So it was one of that foggy evenings that I left Estel with a trusted fellow elven
healer and ventured out of the southern gates. As I walked close to the rift, the
vegetation seemed to become more and more withered, and when I finally reached the
sullen rocky crevice in the ground, all I heard was unnatural silence. I had this dark
background feeling that something was awfully wrong here. I sensed an unseen presence of
some force that was patiently waiting to unleash havoc and torments, oblivious to time,
as if it mattered not whether it can finally break free today or millennia later.
Shaking off hesitation, I stepped down and paused to accomodate to the gloom.
Surprisingly, there were neither bats nor pools of blood or piles of yellowed bones, yet
this utter and imminent doom lingered in the air.
Wandering the empty caverns, I finally found something that seemed to be a former
library. Several tomes covered by thick layer of sandy dust attracted my attention.
I opened one of them, but it was all written in some unfamiliar language amidst drawings
of some disgusting creatures of probably demonic origin. I should've go away already,
but, as curiosity got the best of me, I opened another book. This time an insufferable
flash of a protective spell blinded me briefly, causing a short attack of insanity.
I suddenly felt myself a decrepit old man, living a torturing life full of misery and
senility, horrified of death and sensing its breath, knowing that it is inevitable, that
it is very near but in no hurry, leaving some time for me to suffer further. Now I knew
what terrible presence I felt all the time, but it was too late...
I regained my sanity just before dawn, sitting on a sand dune half a mile from the
terrible Chasm. I was once more a relatively young giant, and the silent menace of Death
was far away, lurking in shadows the ancient sands.
Thus I returned home empty-handed, but not without a notion that some secrets are better
left alone.
Truth about her parents
Added Wed Nov 10 11:15:42 2021 at level 42:
Goblins grow up fast. A day came when Estel understood that storm giants don't give
birth to goblins. She asked me about her real parents, and what I felt was that
slippery feeling of fear and an urge to lie. Who could ever catch me?
However, I pulled myself together and told her that I don't really know her parents'
fate, yet they were most probably killed in a war, and it can be that I am the one
who slew one or even both of them.
She gave me one of that looks that I could never really decipher and went out the door.
I hesitantly followed her in a minute or so, just to see her staring detachedly at the
foggy sunrise over Aryth. I saw pale peach haze blending into the ocean completely calm,
yet morning silence was ridden with my obsessive thoughts: 'Will she hate me from now
on? Will she call me a murderer?'
She turned slightly in my direction, and a wave of relief swept through all my being
as I saw no hostile expression on her face.
"They were, most probably, cruel and depraved creatures," - she said in a girly voice
sharply contrasting with her serious tone. "If not for you, I would have been killed
or worse - left in their or other goblins care."
A treacherous lump stuck in my throat, but there was nothing to be said. I gulped and
looked from the green-skinned girl to the far horizon as my lingering fears melted into
the morning mist.
PK Wins
Nov 30, 2021|Lv 51|Galadon|Pazux vs 3: [44] Rorhus (44%, searing light), [51] Galathaniel (32%), [51] Aranir (22%)
Dec 9, 2021 |Lv 51|The Outlander Refuge|Mastra vs 1: [51] Aranir (100%, slice)