Happy Potato, Jabes and Tavo's Thread

Faebis was always an odd one growing up. At a young age he often found himself wondering into the woods alone, as if he was searching for something. Praying to Pelor for guidance on where it was he was searching for. Soon he was gifted with a vision of a clearing some many miles from his home. As the vision began to fade a voice entered his mind telling him of the great task before him and he was not alone in his search. Waking up from where he had fallen on the floor he found his amulet to Pelor glowing. Grabbing it he soon found himself feeling power he never knew he had. Gathering his things he soon left on his quest. Some many miles from home and after months of searching he finally found what he was looking for. Coming into the clearing he saw in his vision he was amazed to find in the center the ruins of a stone building. Walking up to he could clearly see that the destruction was total and nothing remained, that is until he looked closer. In the center of the ruins was pedestal with what appeared to be a red stone sitting on top. Walking over to it he was surprised to find that it was slightly warm to the touch, as if there were a fire inside. Soon he set up camp and began to meditate on the stone, seeking answers to why he was brought here to find it. As the hours turned into days he soon became frustrated. Wanting to be rid of the thing he picked it up and began to throw it until he was hit by an unnatural urge to travel again. It wasn't until he put it down while packing up did the feeling vanish, only returning when he touched it. Believing he found his answer to what to do next he packed up his things and left. Heading north, the direction the stone compelled him to go in, he soon wondered where this journey would end.

Feeling the stone begin to vibrate Faebis examine it more closely.

Feeling like radiant energy maybe the key to hatching the egg Faebis begins to think. Suddenly while looking at the flames of the fire an idea comes to him. Placing the egg on the ground he gets up and walks a short distance away. Though it may be a crazy idea he can't think of anything else to try. Grasping his holy symbol he cast Sacred Flame on the egg.

Amazed at what just happened al Faebis can do is stand there in shock. Though the result was unexpected he felt like he gained something very important. Looking at his shield he admires the look of the phoenix on the cover and also it is now emitting light. Understanding that this maybe become a problem whenever he wanted to avoid someone, having chainmail was hard enough he didn't need the light giving him away as well. Walking over to the fire he scrapes some ashes from the fire safely and covers the front of the shield. It may be a crude and not so permanent solution but it would do until he could get a more permanent solution.

Assuming that I still have the urge to travel north, I will break camp and continue on, all the while meditating on the shield and what as happened so far. Trying to find out what t all means and what it could lead to.

Krigare, son of a mighty human warrior and a graceful elvish adventurer who seemed to dance with her foes as she cut them to ribbons, had a happy life as a child. He lived with his parents, now retired from the adventure seeking life, in a small town near enough to a trade route for supplies but far enough for a modicum of peace.

They trained him to fight, for it was a harsh world and, knowing their son as they did, realized they wouldn't be able to stop him from scratching the same itch they felt at his age - the urge to explore and discover.

All was as it should be until one fateful day, when the young half-elf learned a distinctly difficult lesson.His father, being his father, and incapable of keeping his inner bear from roaring given the proper circumstance, faced down so wandering thugs threatening locals of the town. Amid the raucous cheers of the locals, he single-handedly roughed up all three of the brigands and turfed them from the tavern. He could have ensured they would be incapable of retribution, but he chose mercy. He left them with bruises, a few broken bones, and wounded pride. But he left them alive. After the affronts and insults they had shown some of the townsfolk, not everyone felt that was punishment enough. But Kiragre's father insisted they were young and would learn.

Of course, young men's wounded pride leads more often to horrible retribution and childish petulance than it does to lessons learned and inner growth. It was little surprise, therefore, when they returned looking for the great barrel chested old man who had humiliated them. What was surprising, however, was the hired muscle they brought with them. Kirgare saw his father die that day. He dies like a warrior and took more with him to the grave than any old man had a right. But that was ill consolation to the young boy left behind.

Kiragare would leave the town not long after. On his travels he would question his path many times. He would receive, time after time, evidence to support the notion that in order for good to triumph it would not be enough to simply defeat evil - it had to be crushed. Those who would cause harm and hurt to others needed to fear. They need to be completely broken and be made too petrified to step out of line again.

Whilst on this journey of self discovery, a vision of a lady with flowing red hare in glimmering plate mail came to him. She spoke to him and blessed him. She invited him to serve her as a Paladin of the Red Knight. Her central tenet: use good strategy to defeat your enemy. Be a student of battle. Use your enemy against himself. Fight for the greater good. See the big picture and make the sacrifices that need to be made in order to meet with greater victories in the long run. Hiding, lying, running, or any other tactic was just that: a tactic. If it was done with purpose, with strategic goals in mind, it was honorable.

When he awoke, there was a red glimmering weapon by his side: a gift from the Red Lady. If winning is what matters, and he was tasked to defeat evil, he would use this weapon to do it. In the name of his patroness. He would put the fear of his Goddess into any evil doer who who had the misfortune of crossing his path. His name would make brigands, like the ones who killed his father, hide and tremble. Of course...it wouldn't matter. He'd find them and kill them all the same.

The time had come for the decent people in the world to breathe easy and for those who would harm them to know what true fear felt like...

Ronda never belonged to a clan, or knew her parents, or was even given a proper orcish name. She was born in the gutter in the market, in a puddle of fish guts, and grew up on the streets, brawling for scraps of food, fighting for a place to huddle when the weather turned. And she was very good at brawling, so in time she became feared and respected by the gangs of street urchins around town, and they made Ronda their leader. It was whispered that in addition to her obvious physical strength, it almost felt like something supernatural watched over her and protected her. Of course, she dismissed this as rubbish, although it was true, t the edge of her vision she sometimes did catch glimpses of spirits that seemed to defend her. But whenever any danger passed they were gone, and they never appeared to her when she tried calling out to them while alone.

Despite her gang, and the city that was the only mother she had ever known, Ronda never felt like she belonged. All her life she felt a pull...an urge she could never explain...to venture north. She would never admit it, she was afraid of what she might find out there. Maybe whatever good-for-nothing father, or bitch of a mother that birthed her and then abandoned her still lived there somewhere. Then again, she might find their graves (that might not be so bad, she thought, because then I could spit on them). Or she might find nothing...in the long run, nothing might be for the best. But by her 16th birthday (no one knew her real birthday; she chose one for herself) Ronda decided the best thing to do was to stop wondering and get it the hell over over with. She packed her meager possessions, put her lieutenant, Rufio, in charge of the gang, and set out on the first ever grand adventure of her life.

On Ronda's third night on the road, alone save for her only friend in the world, her pet mouse Rousey, she was set upon by wolves. For the first time in her life, she saw her spirit guardians clear as day. With their help she fought off the wolves, though the fight left her bloodied and bruised. The spirits beckoned her off the road and further north, and though her limbs felt heavy as lead, and her body screamed for rest, in her delirium she followed them. That was how she tumbled down a pit in the woods and fell unconscious. When Ronda woke the next morning her body ached and she had a dozen new scars, but both she and Rousey were okay. Lying on her back , staring up at the sky, she realized the pit was really a natural stone shaft - a collapsed sinkhole. There was something hard in her back though. Rolling over, she found a pair of metal bracers. Very old, judging by the patina. Curious, she slipped them on...

Krigare's nature doesn't readily lend itself to mingling or small talk. However, the circumstances of sailing aboard ship provide limited opportunities for solitude. Add to that his refusal to accept passage without contributing to the daily chores, and it was no surprise that he found himself, quite reluctantly, forced into social interactions with some few members of the crew and passengers.

Even more surprising, and much to his own chagrin, he found himself developing a grudging respect for some of them. In particular, a female fighter with some clearly orcish lineage gained his respect. Her brutish strength reminded the half-elf of his father. All brawn paired with a seemingly genuine love of life that will wind up leading her to either profound happiness or abject misery. During the first few days of the voyage, every time he saw her strain her muscles he marveled and every time he witnessed her interact with ridiculous rodent pet of hers, he found himself incapable of holding back a smile. I hope it's happiness she finds...

The one character aboard ship who immediately garnered the young Paladin's attention and awe, however, was the Aasimar. He'd heard of such beings, and being in the service of a Deity himself, he had a profound respect for their reputation and background, but he'd never met one before. But as with the orcish woman, he refused to judge this person by their appearance. He'd made that mistake in the past and he was determined to not repeat same mistakes over and over if at all possible.

No, he'd watch and see if this person's behaviour was deserving of the respect toward which his race tended. It didn't take long for Kigare to realize it did. Here was a good person who cared about the cause of justice and the protection of decency. Here was someone of, potentially, kindred purpose if not method. He chuckled to himself at that thought. The half-elf had no doubt this pious being would frown at the Paladin's methods, even as he shared a common life goal. They would either be good friends or bitter rivals. That was yet to be determined, but what was certain, they fought for the same side.

Despite himself, Kirgare didn't share much of himself during the voyage. He kept to himself, but would return gestures of greeting or thanks when either of those two offered them. There were even a couple occasions where words were exchanged and mutual acknowledgements of respect given. But for the most part, he kept to himself and guarded his opinions and thoughts almost as closely as the large weapon (obviously a sword by its shape) he kept bundled under an old cloak.

He could, on occasion, be found in some few moments of unguarded humanity. At dawn, anyone on deck and observant enough to be looking for patterns of behaviour, might have noted he always faced the dawn. Those who were even more astute would have seen him praying as he stared off into the red horizon, although he never made a show of it. To the casual observer, he simply appeared to like gazing at sunrises.

Faebis wouldn't share much about himself and would often want to be left alone. Having grown up in a monastery he wasn't used to normal social interactions. The days spent on the voyage would find him either praying to his god or meditating on some questions he might have, usually seen with a shield he always kept covered.

While he usually preferred to meditate in private, traveling on the ship made that difficult and was forced to do it above deck. While up there he often found an odd half-elf staring at him, as if he'd never seen an aasimar before. Though that may have been true as he was the only one at the monastery, having been left there as a infant. As for the orcish woman, he didn't know what exactly to think about her. He had respect for her for sure and didn't tend to judge others but there was something off about her. Every time they crossed paths Faebis would begin to sneeze, as if he was allergic to her. This was odd because the only thing he knew he was allergic to was mice, discovered when one of the monastery's cats left a gift in front of his door that he had to clean up.

Other than that he would try to answer any questions that were presented to him and act politely to everyone though preferring to be left alone.

Krigare, already uncomfortable with being summoned by the captain, shifts from one foot to the other during the announcement. His momentary displeasure at standing about with the crew and being spoken to as though he were an apprentice was immediately replaced with curiosity at the word "trouble".

He stopped fidgeting, his posture became straighter and he spoke out above the murmuring of the disquieted rabble. "What kind of trouble?"