Backstory

Welcome Essith!

As a fighter of the Desert Dwarves in the House of Tesca, you will do well in these times meant for heroes. Your people once explored the Underdark so far in search of Mithril that you burrowed behind the Trackless Sea far from the now legendary Mountain stronghold of Guantlygrm in Faerun where your people originated. The Underdark brought you to the hot and dry desert named after Tesca, the god of fire. Here in Maztica, your people prospered in the easily defendable desert where you found green oasis and mountains of hard stone but little metal. You found Plutoq to be an agreeable god to sacrifice to as he only wished your appreciation of the the gifts of magic he gave. He taught you the circle of Maztica magic known as Tumqua. From the rock, your artisans made pluma stone which was harder than steel and fashioned weapons such as the great battle ax you wield.



The House of Tesca has been bleak and empty for as long as your people can remember. Before that, the sunstone was already in the northern part, where the Mother Maztica was slain by her son Zaltec. Also the Pyramid of the Gods still stands in the haunted and ancient ruins of Tewahca, city of gods, where the gods Zaltec and Qotal once fought.

You know of trade with the Long Canoe traders from Eastern Far Payit, from the city of Maxal. These native people were fair and honest and bring fruit and seafood, pluma craft and teoalt magic, but most prized of all was the cacao. Of late they have been coming in fantastic ships of yahca bent wood and sails that fill with wind. They learned these new crafts from travelers from afar that have offered new ideas and new riches. The gods of these Newcomers are generous indeed, gifting them metal and powerful magics.

Your profession takes you west instead. As a fighter with the city council, you have been making your way as a guard on the caravans that go west to Baya, the port city on the west coast. These natives are more dishonest as they descend from the Green Folk of the jungles south of you. They are wiley and capricious and do not deal honestly with the dwarves. Your job is risky as the desert does not give up their dead to Coatlicue in the underworld easily and hordes of zombies make travel dangerous. And then the traders must deal with the natives of Baya to get a good deal. Still, you earn your money, though you dream of greater glory and treasure.

A folk hero eh? Tell me about it. We have time, says the girl sitting next to you. The caravan doesn’t leave For the west coast until tomorrow.

Well, I don't like to brag, but if you really want to hear it. When I was much younger, not many years coming of age my village was attacked by a huge group of orc. Most of the men worked in the local mine. My two friends and myself, being the youngest were usually assigned with running the ore to the village for processing and we'd do any other odd jobs that needed doing. One evening we had just left the mine with a load of ore. Just a few feet out of the entrance there was a cave-in. We could speak with those inside; only a few minor injuries so we got to work removing the rubble. We had barely began when .we heard the village alarm for orc approaching.
We were told to go help the village as those inside worked to get free. My friends and I ran as fast as we could, reaching the village just as the orc were approaching. The village was set where the only way in was a very narrow pass through the mountain, which was fortunate; only a few orc could pass through at a time. Apparently, most of our lookouts had been killed before the alarm had been sounded.
Normally security would have been better, but we had not had problems with the orc for many years and we had grown lax in our watchfulness. There were only five of us to hold off the orc. Now, don't get me wrong, our women are sturdy fighters when it comes to it, but we had many children so they were split with protecting the little ones and helping free the other men from the mine. The bottleneck only allowed three to four orc at a time to come through so, at first we felled them easily enough, but after awhile we began to tire. One of my comrades was slain so it became harder and we all were sustaining injuries, which made it harder to concentrate. As the night wore on another comrade was felled, just three of us left. Fortunately orc are too stupid to know when things were going in their favor so they didn't know to press their attack. They didn't realize we were exhausted.
We fought as best we could for as long as we could, but in the end we wore down. We could barely lift our weapons and when we did make a hit the damage was minimal. It was all but over, we had sustained too many wounds and were completely wore down. Once we were gone the orc would flood through the pass and slaughter our women and children. I took a sword jab to my shoulder and fell to my knees, completely spent. I turned to see my best friend ran through the stomach. It was all but over.
An orc raised his sword to cleave in my last friends head when he was suddenly knocked back by an ax protruding from his face. The other men were finally freed from the mine and had joined the fight. I passed out as I felt myself being dragged from the battle. I awoke several days later to find the village still intact. My body ached from head to toe and I could barely move, but move I could. I was the only survivor of the five defenders as the fourth succumbed to his injuries the day before.
I was hailed a hero, though I didn't feel like one. The village elder explained to me the orc that attack were just a small group of a much bigger force that had been building for quite some time, organized by whom, none knew. We weren't the first hit and those hit before us had suffered greatly, but word was spread and the orc were beaten and scattered back to their lands. So, apparently, my friends and I had not only saved our village, but the lives of countless others. So, hero I was labeled and haven't been able to shake it to this day. Don't get me wrong, it comes with plenty of perks when I'm in any dwarven lands, but sometimes it gets a little embarrassing. What's a man to do, eh?

"That's exactly what a man should do!" she says back to you, as she grips you hard on the wrist and gives you a mighty slap on the shoulder. "You are a hero, and you should be proud. Communities need heroes like you."

She goes back to her canteen and pours a little out into two jade carved bowls. "To folk heroes!" and you both quaff down the spirited shots. Straight octli, she was drinking, distilled nectar of agave.

You could not help but notice the many scars that have almost healed along her ruddy brown arms. She wasn't sand blasted and discolored like the dessert dwarves, but rather had the deep color of milky cacao. Her meticulously clean bare arms disappeared into a padded cotton jerkin, which, though stained and faded, and more than a little ripped and patched, still bore some arcane glyphs as if they were stitched into the fabric.



In her black hair, she wore feathers clinging to beaded braids of intricate designs and colors.

"So, it appears you've seen a bit of battle yourself." I said glancing at her arms. "Tell me a bit about where you're from, you don't appear to be from any of the desert clans."

"You think?!? So you can tell by my brawny muscles?" she taunts as she stretches her arms over her head and brings them down in a power pose that would be intimidating to the most seasoned of gladiators.

She laughs a full belly laugh that attracts the looks of all those relaxing and enjoying the respite under the sweet meljinga tree’s shade.

"I’m from northern Nexal, the Capitol, though I don’t worship the Eater of Hearts, Zaltec as most do there. I am a Paladin in your speech, an Eagle Knight of the Great Quetzalcoatl, the god Qotal."

"Wait. Qotal left Maztica in shame over the eastern sea."

She takes a crusty flat bread of maze and sops up the spicy juices of her steak and vegetables and shovels it into her mouth, "um ‘es," she barely speaks, full of food. The juices slip down her chin. She lifts her head to run her forefinger up her brown neck to shove the juices back into her mouth. She swallows the meal whole in the manner of the great predator she is. "By Yahca’s beard! These peppers are rich! I love what the desert sun and sand can do to a pepper!"

She looks at you.

"Qotal left but he returns! With white warriors in silver and great canoes. The priests of Zaltec have been fools and listened to the Ancient Ones in the high caves above Nexal. By dark arts, they became the Viperhand and commanded the Underdark to empty.
Hordes of orcs and Jagres poured forth over Nexal. Qotal brought the war to them but could not vanquish them. The Feather Serpant rescued the people. Qotal showed mercy He made a series of oasis down through the House of Tesca to Tukan, just east of here. The desert blooms and the refugees of Nexal make The exodus to find a new home."

"I came ahead to prepare the city but the dwarven lords would not receive me, so I go to Baya at the end of the caravan trail to negotiate for supplies and building supplies, for Yahca artisans and stone Tamqua melders, for a better reception for the multitudes of now homeless Nexalans who no longer invade to capture hearts to sacrifice to Zaltec They will come to settle Tukan."

She lifts herself from her squat. "Come Essith. It is nightfall. You are a sell sword paid to protect the caravan, are you not? We need to inspect the lifts before dark."

"Tell me. Could a folk hero know what it is like to do grand deeds as this?"

I chuckle and shake my head as I rise to join her.
"Your a spirited one, that's for sure. I like that. Just so you know, this folk hero knows what it's like to do just about any grand deeds an Eagle Knight knows to do. I don't shy away from my duties and I absolutely don't do anything half-ass...anything. Oh, apparently my name is Essith, but I don't recall catching yours.
As we head off to inspect the lifts, I give her an appraising look. "I like your feathers. They really help pull off your badassness." I give her a wink. "Maybe later I can show you what a folk hero can do with those feathers."

"No doubt that you are strong! and steadfast. Good qualities for a fine man, but your hands are rough. You do not have the finesse to weave pluma. To become an Eagle Knight, I had to learn and be tested in all manner of philosophy, the art and magic, in addition to arms. These feather fetishes I wear in my hair are my greatest accomplishment." She laughs. "They are talismans of poor skill but they effectively ward me from many harms."

"You cannot touch my feathers, Essith. I am betrothed to Qotal."

"My name is Huatzicahualtumila." She watches as your eyes grow wide at the length of the name. "Yeah, my friends just call me Huatzi."

She stops walking once she gets to the caravan. A line of white billowing forms sit on the road leading west like clouds on the sunset.

Hands on her hips, she sighs, "Now this is plumaweaving!"

What you mistook for cotton sheets on wooden sleds, is actually nothing more than fine cloth floating in air. Nothing touches the ground. The beds of the lifts are woven feathers that look like a child has strung them together while playing in the desert flower blooms of New Warmth after a Long Sleep in the cold caves. However, the lifts are laden with trade goods, heavy metals from far Nexal and ores and exotic woods. The lifts are carrying a fortune in worth and weight.

"This is all we could muster to send forward in trade for supplies and skilled labor. The dwarves may not like us coming in to settle their area of the House of Tesca, but the Kolanians will not care and they will like our goods. The only trouble is making our way through the mountain passes to the ocean inlet and the port city of Baya."

"Aye," you say. "The desert in these parts is full of its dead who will not abide by the life forces that sustain these lifts. They will try to tear it apart."

"Hush!" Huatzi says and crouches down. "There. On the other side of the lifts. I saw dark shadows where there is no light to cast them."

Without speaking, I draw my battleaxe and slowly approach the lifts scanning the area to discern what our who is lurking in the darkness.

You slip past the first and second lift to gain cover from two sides and drop to the ground to see below the sleds. The precautions and a good stealth check against their passive perception ensures you one good look. It doesn’t help much. You see a guard sprawled on the ground as if he collapsed rather than was subdued. A normal investigation would have suggestEd exhaustion or too much sun. Your perception is not that great. You see only the shadows of evening mixing with the early starlight.

Huatzi is more intent. She has moved between the second and third lifts and has stood up, a half circlet of steel blade in one hand on her forehead that made a halo over her furled face. The other hand must have held a dagger the way she held her body. That much you could deduce from your fighter’s training. Were these weapons on her body the whole time?

She focuses on a shape and you look to it. It is mere shadow. She rushes at it with a yell. That shadow and another that rises from the dead guard move toward her.

I quickly move to intercept the shadow moving from the fallen guard toward Huatzi. I yell a battle cry to try to divert the attention of the shadows and move to attack the one moving from the fallen guard.

You rolled 14 on initiative while the shadows moves like thick black sugar, but Huatzi was faster. She slices at the shadow in front of her with both a circular downward arc from the odd hand blade and then stabs with a second dagger from below with equal power. Her two weapon style is impressive like a dancer and obviously well practiced. She scores two hits, but the shadow still comes upon her.

One fighter on each shadow, you split your focus. Your battle cry pierces the night but has little of the effect that a bard's mockery would have had on these shadows, and almost no intimidation on shadows. Yet the breath control helps you put your battleaxe in full swing. A 15 to hit and the shadow's dark milky form is cut deep with 9 damage.

Each shadow rolls 21 on their attacks. Huatzi reacts with a force of white energy that shields the attack. You, however, succumb to the cloud of ink, feeling the necrotic energy injure your mind for 9 points. Worse, you feel your strength sapped by the shadow upon you for 3 points of STR. You are down to 14 STR but maintain a +2 modifier.

Huatzi continues the onslaught, finishing off her shadow with two more mighty blows!

You are thrown off by the strength drain rolling a 2+2 and miss. As a bonus action, you take a second wind for 5 points putting you up to 9 hit points.

The shadow does not relent. It attacks with a 13 to your AC of 13 and does 8 necrotic damage and sapping your strength further by another 3. Your STR is down to 11, nullifying your STR modifier.

Huatzi sees you are bloodied but makes the tactical decision to attack your shadow rather than waste an action healing you. "Hold on!" she yells and swings, missing both attacks.

You are focused. There is nothing left to do but end this. You attack with a bare 12 to its AC of 12 and hit for 9 damage cleaving the shadow in two. The necrotic ooze seeps into the ground. Your battleaxe feels more heavy than it has ever felt in your hand. Luckily your studded armor only weighs 13 lbs and didn't cause disadvantage on that last attack, or you probably would have missed. Still, it's heavy, too. Everything feels heavy.

Huatzi takes her arms and hugs you so you do not fall down. Where did her knives go? She walks you over to the last lift that was almost empty so that you can sit. "My hero." she says.

"Hero my arse," that... thing would have killed me if not for you, thank you. I'm okay for now, let's see if the other guards are still alive and if anyone else was hurt.

You take her hint, and get up to go to the stable where you put up your horse and donkey. They will need more feed and ... Huatzi bites your ear and pulls you back into the lift's feather bed. She grappled you by her superior strength and wet kisses. "Now where do you think you are going, my hero!"

The morning comes soon enough. She must have opened the lift's covers when she slipped out in the night. You barely noticed her going and barely had time to recuperate, but you now have your strength back, partially from the delightful therapy. You had better tend to those beasts of burden before the caravan leaves. You leave for the mountain passes soon.

I quickly get myself dressed and tend to the beasts and any other tasks I need to before we depart. I try to enjoy the memory of Huatzi's ministrations from last night, but I keep thinking of the attack by those shadows. Oh well, nothing for it now but to move on and be more vigilant at night
I also need to brief Huatzi on the dishonesty of the people in Baya. They will try to cheat the caravan any way they can.

How do you pack? Do you take the animals or leave them in the livery? You do have an impressive amount of inventory.

Are you able to post as your character?

I thought I was.

You see someone in front with a battle helmet and full cloak and regalia all in white. They must the tiltoch, the big boss, probably some green folk merchant guard with a stick up their Plutoq. You sneaker and look around to see if lightning strikes you down.

You take another look to see the eagle helm and the coat all of white feathers. It is Huatzi bossing everyone around getting this caravan going.

"Hey you! Pack rat!" She yells at you with a wink. "Get hitched up and take charge of the rear."

A shadow falls over the distance between you, and you draw your axe. It’s not a Shadow but rather a giant eagle. It barely touches down before Huatzi pole vault on, her white feathers trailing behind her lithe movements, and an ipe wood halbert with pluma stone and steel flashing in a circular motion over her head. She flies away.