Post by Rowan on Sept 5, 2008 11:47:51 GMT -5
This is a background story for a role-playing character. Tell me what you think?
It was the cool rain on my face that woke me. As my mind came back to consciousness I started to feel the pain… pain everywhere. It felt as though my entire body was on fire, like I had been crushed under a mountain and swept down a rushing river, then pulled back together. I laid on the cold wet ground for how long, I don’t know. I tried with much woe to move my arms and found them still attached. My legs were next and then my neck. I was still alive at least and finding that I could still move, painfully, but mobile.
As I start to push myself off of the mucky ground I notice a strange scent in that is both indescribable and unforgettable at the same moment. It is the smell of death. My stomach starts to heave and I release its contents onto the ground at the scene before me. Everything is in ruins… everything is dead. That’s when my last few memories start to drift back to me…
I thought it all a dream… the dead things come to my tribe, it is the way it has been for as long as I know. But this time the dead things were talking and trying to convince my elders to join them. My tribe attacks them and I surge into the fray as a younger warrior should… It all goes black.
The “dream” continues with a man in robes that didn’t show his face telling me to fight or he would keep my blackened spirit. We fight and I best him… then I feel as though my body is burning… That’s when I wake up in this field of carnage.
Every other person in my tribe is dead… every warrior, elder, child and woman… all dead. Except for me… why? I gather the few things I have, my weapons and shield. I see my father on the ground… As a last gift from Father to Son, I take his armor before setting the small camp of my now extinct tribe ablaze. Ashes to ashes…
After a month of wandering these dead and harsh lands I at last find another tribe that follows brother wolf as their totem. I recognize some of the warriors, women and the shaman. They are all looking at me like I am a diseased person. “What is it you all stare at?” I cried, as mothers held back scared children and warriors checked their blades. “Come to me Lodbrok, I will speak with you.” came a voice as old as the winds. I look up to see the elder shaman of wolf tribe as a whole speaking to me. I follow the ancient in almost a trance and enter his lodge.
The ancient one sits, his bones creaking and popping like an old tree in the wind. He motions me to sit at his right, a place of honor. The wizened sage takes his pipe and pulls a long drag before starting to speak. “Lodbrok, child of Tannen, warrior of tribe Fenrir. I have seen you in my dreams and the spirits have told me of your coming. They speak of blood and of fire. You have a mark upon your very soul.” he croons. I see the smoke from his pipe starting to curl and dance in the tallow light of his lodge. “Your mind has been touched by the loon and your heart carries the weight of all those who died. Why they all died, I know not, but I feel that their deaths must be atoned for by you. You must go and enter the civilized lands, you must find a place of hope. You are to travel to where they battle the dead and clean the taint from yourself.” His voice starts to fade and his hands start to tremble. “You must balance the scale that was tipped. This is a gaes I place upon you. Until you have righted the balance, you cannot rest. The land hurts and you must do what you can to heal it!” and with his last word the shaman falls into a slumber.
I stand to leave the shaman’s tent and his words ring in my ears. As I walk from the man’s lodge, I feel the eyes of this tribe, my tribe, upon me. There is a blanket with food and water waiting beside my weapons. A last gift from a tribe that has sent me into the world alone.
I start to rove from village to village looking for a place that calls to my heart. It was upon an old and dusty road that I meet the ogre. He is dressed in all black and white, with the armor and weapons of a warrior, but his voice is that of a scholar. He tells me that his mentor has sent him to a place called “Hope” to learn and fight. We both decide that traveling with another is better than alone and we head to this town called Hope. It is my heart that cried out to be cleansed, I cry out that this is the place for me to balance what has been tipped... Will this be my hope?
It was the cool rain on my face that woke me. As my mind came back to consciousness I started to feel the pain… pain everywhere. It felt as though my entire body was on fire, like I had been crushed under a mountain and swept down a rushing river, then pulled back together. I laid on the cold wet ground for how long, I don’t know. I tried with much woe to move my arms and found them still attached. My legs were next and then my neck. I was still alive at least and finding that I could still move, painfully, but mobile.
As I start to push myself off of the mucky ground I notice a strange scent in that is both indescribable and unforgettable at the same moment. It is the smell of death. My stomach starts to heave and I release its contents onto the ground at the scene before me. Everything is in ruins… everything is dead. That’s when my last few memories start to drift back to me…
I thought it all a dream… the dead things come to my tribe, it is the way it has been for as long as I know. But this time the dead things were talking and trying to convince my elders to join them. My tribe attacks them and I surge into the fray as a younger warrior should… It all goes black.
The “dream” continues with a man in robes that didn’t show his face telling me to fight or he would keep my blackened spirit. We fight and I best him… then I feel as though my body is burning… That’s when I wake up in this field of carnage.
Every other person in my tribe is dead… every warrior, elder, child and woman… all dead. Except for me… why? I gather the few things I have, my weapons and shield. I see my father on the ground… As a last gift from Father to Son, I take his armor before setting the small camp of my now extinct tribe ablaze. Ashes to ashes…
After a month of wandering these dead and harsh lands I at last find another tribe that follows brother wolf as their totem. I recognize some of the warriors, women and the shaman. They are all looking at me like I am a diseased person. “What is it you all stare at?” I cried, as mothers held back scared children and warriors checked their blades. “Come to me Lodbrok, I will speak with you.” came a voice as old as the winds. I look up to see the elder shaman of wolf tribe as a whole speaking to me. I follow the ancient in almost a trance and enter his lodge.
The ancient one sits, his bones creaking and popping like an old tree in the wind. He motions me to sit at his right, a place of honor. The wizened sage takes his pipe and pulls a long drag before starting to speak. “Lodbrok, child of Tannen, warrior of tribe Fenrir. I have seen you in my dreams and the spirits have told me of your coming. They speak of blood and of fire. You have a mark upon your very soul.” he croons. I see the smoke from his pipe starting to curl and dance in the tallow light of his lodge. “Your mind has been touched by the loon and your heart carries the weight of all those who died. Why they all died, I know not, but I feel that their deaths must be atoned for by you. You must go and enter the civilized lands, you must find a place of hope. You are to travel to where they battle the dead and clean the taint from yourself.” His voice starts to fade and his hands start to tremble. “You must balance the scale that was tipped. This is a gaes I place upon you. Until you have righted the balance, you cannot rest. The land hurts and you must do what you can to heal it!” and with his last word the shaman falls into a slumber.
I stand to leave the shaman’s tent and his words ring in my ears. As I walk from the man’s lodge, I feel the eyes of this tribe, my tribe, upon me. There is a blanket with food and water waiting beside my weapons. A last gift from a tribe that has sent me into the world alone.
I start to rove from village to village looking for a place that calls to my heart. It was upon an old and dusty road that I meet the ogre. He is dressed in all black and white, with the armor and weapons of a warrior, but his voice is that of a scholar. He tells me that his mentor has sent him to a place called “Hope” to learn and fight. We both decide that traveling with another is better than alone and we head to this town called Hope. It is my heart that cried out to be cleansed, I cry out that this is the place for me to balance what has been tipped... Will this be my hope?