A Wanderer's Tale
Some people, when they write these things will tell you they don't remember much of their early life. I remember every detail, from the moment of my birth. I suspect, when the Wheel turns a bit further and I have passed and then return to this world, I will remember every moment of my death as well.
Amongst my people, there is a saying "Druids remember things from life to life... everyone else is allowed to forget." I suppose I exemplify the truth of that. Since very early in my life, I was plagued with periods in which I would black out and speak of faraway lands and long-ago times, and, with my cursed memory, know every detail upon awakening from the blackness. That alone would have been sufficient for me to be trained as a druid, but there was more. The animals of the forest obeyed my commands, so long as my intent was pure (or at least harmless to them... they didn't mind playing pranks on others, though).
My childhood was that of a typical kankoran youth, I suppose. We traveled often, moving with the seasons and the herds of game that gave us their lives in exchange for food. I was limber and tough, like my brothers and cousins, and would play for hours, wrestling and pranking each other mercilessly, but joining together to explore new places and tease the girls. I tried to join in with the enthusiasm of my friends, but I always felt, inside myself, that I was apart from them. They never saw the things I saw, neither the patterns in the clouds or the gentle beauty of a single leaf. When I wasn't playing, I was out in the world, exploring the realms of my mind and senses.
My family... how many years has it been since I thought of them as my family?... was well-respected in our tribe, having been priests and druids and warriors of reknown as far back as any could remember, almost to the beginnings of our druid histories. When our druids said that they were planning on strengthening the ties between a group of humans in the Disputed Lands by exchanging fosterlings, they chose me. My mother protested, saying that I was too young, that no one who had seen only five summers should be sent so far from home and family. The druids turned to me, asking me what I wanted to do. I asked if I would be allowed home again... they did not know. When I gave my answer, my mother cried, holding me tightly to her. I tried to shrug away, wanting to look like an adult before I left, but that night in my bedroll, I sobbed softly to myself.
Our band moved into the Disputed Lands over the next few days, and I felt the knot in my stomach growing tighter. Would there be someone who I could talk to? Would they hate me because I looked too much like our cousins, the Wolfen? As we walked, I was surrounded by birds and small animals... even a young tusker for a brief time, before he moved away... and they gave me comfort. Even if I never learned to speak the tongue of Man, I would not be alone so long as I had my friends. I so desperately wanted friends.
After five days, we came to the meeting point. I squared my shoulders, holding tightly to my little walking staff, and tried hard to be brave. My parents stood behind me, one of their hands on each of my shoulders, and I felt them tighten as they sounds of horses approached, and I felt a drop of wetness fall on my shoulder. I looked up at my mother, and saw the tears pouring out of her eyes as the horses crashed into view.
The men on horseback, their armor gleaming in the light, is a sight I return to often in my mind. Their deep chestnut horses seemed to be made of liquid wood as they flowed across the ground, and the men themselves seemed made of steel and granite, sitting ramrod stiff on their horses. When their druid came into view, along with a little boy on horseback, I felt better. Two people of flesh, at least, existed amongst these men of stone! Their druid dismounted while the horses stamped nervously, and he began to cross the field to meet our chief druid in the center of the field. They embraced like old friends, and spoke at length in a language I did not then understand, though I do now. Most of their conversation was mundane, speaking of mutual friends amongst the other druids, seemingly unaware of the glares that my peoples directed at each other. Tension was tight, but fortunately, no one made a move that destroy our fragile peace.
After the sun had crawled some ways across the sky, the druids called me and the boy to the center of the clearing with them. My mother and father gave me a last embrace, my mother closing her own torc about my neck, my father giving me his only steel knife. My eyes blurred with tears as I clung to them, but I let them go, shaking my head so I would not meet my new family with tears in my eyes. The boy and I started across the field, and I could see in him the same resolve not to look back that I knew must show in my eyes. In our minds, to look back would be to never leave. We met at the center, and I tried to smile at him, and he tried to smile back... the expression never touched the eyes of either one of us.
At the druids' instructions, we held out and clasped our arms together, each of us holding the other's hands. They cut each of our arms, letting our blood run together. In time with the human druid, the druid of my old tribe intoned "As the blood of these two is joined, so may our two clans be joined, one never to shed the blood of the other."
With that, I crossed the field with the druid who I would learn was named Menua. I was to live with him, and to be his apprentice, if I was capable, or to be a scout for our Lord Natorous, if I proved to have no skill with the arts of druidry. I slowly climbed onto the back of the horse, trusting more in my way with animals and natural agility than any skill to keep me on its back. I suddenly felt sorry for the young man who I replaced, Fearghus, who would have to walk for the rest of the day.
We rode for the rest of the afternoon, and I found it easier to stand on the back of my horse rather than ride, my legs being poorly suited to horseback. When I remarked to Menua that whoever designed horses certainly didn't have kankoran in mind when he did it, he laughed so hard he nearly rode into a tree. I felt better after that, and was soon showing off for him and the men that rode with us, calling birds down to speak with me and learning what bits of their language one can in an afternoon.
When we came to the dirt fort, I was amazed at the sight... I had never seen anything so huge. The walls were higher than three kankoran, and made of earth and stone. A single stone tower rose from the center. Menua and I broke off from the group, then, heading to a small hut in the woods.
How can I explain the next ten years? I learned as quickly as I could, as much as I could, assisting Menua in things I cannot mention in print, but I finished my training in near record time. Nothing had to be told to me more than once, and Menua soon discovered I had a talent with words as well as with animals. He taught me the paths of the stars and the moon, the lore of every living thing, from the tiniest bug to the planet itself. He taught me everything that I could absorb, but he didn't teach me everything.
From a fierce weapons master with a beard that I could swear had more hair in it than I had on my body. I learned how to fight with a staff and with my body. From a pair of young boys, I learned to swim in the fishpond and "accidentally" catch fish for lunch while doing so, and from a tired bard I learned to sing and cast the feelings in my heart to words, a skill which ultimately got me into a bit of trouble.
Around the dun, I was an exotic touch, handsome enough amongst my own people, but with some sort of air that attracted the girls of the dun. We were young, and I could feel the fire in my veins whenever one would laugh at one of my jokes or when they would sit rapt as I sang a song I had made just that day. We grew up together, and I grew much faster than the boys their age... just about their speed. One of the girls, a lovely girl by the name of Miranda, had lovely red hair and green eyes, and an unquenchable spirit. She always clamored loudest for me to sing, and who told me first when she became a woman. One day, just the two of us, we went out into the woods. I sang the birds from the trees for her, and we moved closer and closer, sharing more and more thoughts in whispers that got quieter and quieter...
We were inches from each other, and I could feel it in my gut that something was going to happen. We tried to kiss, but kankoran mouths aren't made for that. I licked her neck, moving downward across her flesh as we stripped each other of our clothing. It's my intention to write to write an autobiography, not a harlequin romance, so I will leave it at that, save to say that the coupling was awkward and a bit painful for her, as such things often are, but we completed the act, and lay exhausted for a while before we returned to our homes.
After that, we snuck away whenever we could, enjoying the feeling of being young and alive and together. I had a few other girls as well, but it was never as special as it was with Miranda... there was always a connection neither of us would speak about, only felt. We felt that we would always be together, and she was the one secret I kept from Menua... though he knew anyway. He always knew. Those few months were the happiest time of my life.
Then, Miranda told me she was pregnant.
I was shocked. I didn't think it was possible, but she was, and she assured me she (she always called our child 'she') was mine. I was the only one she had ever had. We made such plans to marry that season, in two weeks. She went home such a happy girl, and I practically flew to Menua's house. He congratulated me, and helped me choose a site for our home. We had such plans.
From what we learned later, that night Miranda to her family the news. Her mother, who I had met several times, told me later that she had been so happy for the two of us when she heard. Her father, though, exploded. He yelled at her, trying to drive her out of the house for bearing "that dog-thing's puppies". He threw a mug at her, which she dodged too slowly. It caught her on the side of the head, and not even the clerics could bring her back.
I spent three days mourning her. I kept expecting her to show up at my elbow, to squirm into my embrace. She always used to joke with me about my height, kissing me on the top of my head or scratching between my ears... My memory called up every image of her, running them though my mind. I called every bird I could find to me, hoping one of them would be her spirit in transit to the Otherworld... I pleaded with them to take me with them, to take me to my love... but they couldn't, and I wept until my eyes were dry.
At the end of my three days, I went to what used to be her house. I stood before her father and gave him a three hour head-start. If I caught him, I would kill him. If I had not caught him in a year and a day, he was free of my vengeance. He started to laugh at me, but stopped when he looked in my eyes. His wife had left him, there was nothing to tie him to the land now... when I returned in three hours, he had fled, but my rage was unabated by his absence. I let out a cry at the top of my voice, calling every creature who would come to me. I received the animals of vengeance, the wolf and raven and all things that searched for food that ran. I set them on his trail, running after the man who took Miranda from me. We found him at sundown, and my army of beasts poured over him. When we were done with him, there was no body that could be found or identified. I remember the look in his eyes as I tore his throat out, and I remember the joy I felt as he screamed without a voice.
I returned to Menua, throwing myself back into my work for nearly a decade. I learned voraciously now, fighting back the tears each time Miranda's face came into my mind. I progressed through the circles, and grew older. I knew other women, but never did we conceive, and never was it any face but Miranda's that I saw. My only friends were druids... and my familiar, Blix, and old raven who never left my side after the killing of Miranda's father. I didn't even realize what he was at first, but we grew closer like brothers do, the closeness masked behind acid tongues and vile imprecations.
Last month, I woke up and my joints creaked. I looked down at my body and realized that the once bright red of my pelt was starting to show silver in places. I was far from old, certainly... just a little stiff in the morning. I'd only seen twenty summers... surely I had another 20 before age should set in... But I felt so old, and I remembered so much... I walked out into the ward, and realized things had changed. Fearghus, a man in his own right, had returned and was now lord in the dun. Fifteen years had passed since I had seen my family. I went back to our hut and told Menua I was going for a time, to find myself in the world. He smiled at me, helping me to pack as I prepared to leave. I packed only what I needed: the staff I had worn smooth with my own hands, the torc my mother gave me, the steel blade of my father's... the ring of gold and platinum that Miranda and I had ordered when we learned we were to get married... the rest of my gear I stored in a backpack. It felt good to be in the brief kilt favored by kankoran again. Before I set out, Menua gave me his own gift: an armband of gold that he hinted was special somehow, that he had had made for me. Though I pried at him, he simply smiled away my questions.
At last, I left. I trekked to one of our clan's campgrounds, then walked the normal trail in reverse, meeting up with the clan at one of our normal stops. When I entered the encampment, everyone mobbed me, begging me to tell my story. That night I did, with all the passion I could manage. I saw their joy and tears, their hatred of the man who had taken Miranda from me and their passion for each other as I described my love for Miranda. They asked me to stay, but I could not. I need to keep moving. Somewhere out there is Miranda, moved on to her new life. She'll need a teacher, someone to show her the world in all its beauty and power... I think I can do it. I hope I can do it. I hope she'll let me.
Cet Wolf-caller
IQ: 21
ME: 13
MA: 18
PS: 14
PP: 19
PE: 21
PB: 15
Spd: 20
Ht: 5'
Wt: 106#
Green eyes, with red and silver fur
20 years old, right handed
HP: 37
SDC: 23
PPE: 79
ISP: 30
Natural/OCC Abilities
Nightvision 40'
Keen Hearing
See and Use Ley Lines
Ley Line Drifting
Ley Line Rejuvenation
Healing Touch, Animals
Forecast Weather Change
Psionics
Total Recall
Commune with Animals
Bonuses
+7% to all skills
+3 Perception
50% Trust/Intimidate
+3 initiative
+2 roll with punch/fall
+4 to pull punch
+2 to strike
+4 to parry
+4 to dodge
+12% Coma/Death
+3 vs. toxin/poison
+4 vs. magic
+2 vs. disease
+7 vs. Horror Factor
Combat Information
Hand to Hand Basic
3 physical attacks, or 2 spell attacks per round
13 spell strength
2d6 Kick
2d4 Punch
d4 Bite
WP Staff, 4th level
+2 strike
+1 parry
Spells
Repel Animals
Chameleon
Faerie Speak
Negate Poisons/Toxins
Healing Touch
Control the Beasts
Familiar Link
Familiar
Blix, a Raven
IQ: 19
Spd: 4 ground, 66 air
HP and SDC: 18
PPE: 1
3 attacks
d4 claws, d2 peck
+2 initiative
+2 strike
+4 dodge
+2 perception
Powers
Human Intelligence
Speech
Long Life
Skills
Also, if not noted, the skill is +5% per level
Natural/OCC Skills
Track Blood Scent 49% +4% per level
Recognize Scent of Others 39% +4% per level
Literacy: Oghrune 72% (reads runes at -15%)
Regional History and Geography 62%
Knowledge of Sacred Sites 57%
Recognize Animal Enchantment 57% (-20% on humanoids)
Force of Nature Control 42% +5% per level above 8th
Druid Versification 47% (Includes singing and playing the harp and drums)
Druid Astronomy 32%
Weather Identification 32% (+10% to determine if a storm is natural or magical)
Prophecy 27%
Animal Husbandry 77%
Anthropology (Canine Races) 57%
Astronomy and Navigation 67%
Botany 67%
History 72% (Concentrations in Kankoran, Wolfen, and Bearmen)
Land Navigation 74% +4% per level
Speak Kankoran 98%
Speak Northern, Eastern 82%
Lore: Faerie Folk 67%
Lore: Demon and Monster: 57%
Mathematics: Basic 87%
Wilderness Survival 77%
OCC Related Skills
Speak Elven 72%
Biology 67%
Holistic Medicine 67/57%
Surgeon 67/57%
Lore: Magic
General 57%
Recognize Runes, Wards, and Circles 47%
Recognize Enchantment 42%
Lore: Geomancy and Ley Line 57%
Cook 52% (learned at 3rd level)
Secondary Skills
Fishing 52%
Swimming 62%
Climbing/Rappelling 62/57%
Track an Trap Animals 47/57% (can disarm traps at half second %)
Preserve Food 57% (learned at 2nd level)
Skin and Prepare Animal Hides 47% (learned at 2nd level)
Equipment
Brief Kilt
Winter wraps
Soft Leather gloves
Ceremonial white robe
belt
backpack
large satchel (full of dried herbs for use in medicine and cooking)
4 small sacks
Water skin
Sprig of Mistletoe, clove of garlic
Wooden Cross, 8 stakes, small mallet
30' of rope
small mirror, tinderbox
12 pounds of dried, salted, meat
30' of snare line, in various lengths
String of coins (Wolfen Coins, mostly silver, total value of 150 gold pieces)
Oak Jo Staff (d8 damage)
Meteoric Steel Dagger (d6 damage)
Silver neck torc
2 gold and platinum rings (one worn on left hand, the other in a small sack at his neck, along with a lock or red, human, hair).
Engraved Gold Armband (Totem Ring, page 161 of Western Empire, Canine Totem)
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