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| | It’s my 18th birthday time to go join the army of this glorious kingdom of Fellrus. Shortly after I joined. I began to realize that this wasn’t the glory that I expected it to be. All those stories that I heard as a young whimper snapper of riches and glamour, were not wholly true. There are some riches, but the glamour is far from it. Once I am finished with this tour I will leave and start a new life.
After the battle of Namasa, looting bodies I came across some tinkers’ tools and had an odd interest in them. Back in my tent that night I pulled them out and a faint glow appeared while I was holding them. Through my extensive knowledge of arcane arts, this set of tools that began to glow could only mean one thing and that an Artificer was nearby.
With the cover of darkness, I went back to the area where I found the tinkers tool and noticed that there was an old man that was still breathing. He must have been knocked unconscious the first time I walked by him. We had a small chat about the tools, and he explained that I had the powers of being an artificer. I went back to my commanding officer tent and explained to him that this battle has changed me and don’t find myself to be a soldier anymore, but possibly use my skills as mercenary. Art and I made haste to leave the area since we are now both in danger of being discovered. Curiosity almost got this racoon killed.
If discovered that I am artificer there will be a huge bounty on my head as well as Art’s. We stayed in the secluded areas of the winter regions, to help hone my skills. In the meantime, I would get mercenary jobs to help bring in an income. A few years have past and Art has passed away peacefully and I gave him a proper burial according to his wishes.
Wandering to my next destination a blizzard hit and covered up all the signs leading to the next town. I found a tree that gave me plenty of shelter from the elements and curled up in a hole for warmth and sleep. Little did I know I entered an area of Treefolk. The tree came to life trying to verbally berate and physically beat me. The military and merc life gave me a rough and harden shell and there was no backing down. After our scuffling with words and fist, we sat down and started laughing like we were old friends that haven’t seen each other in decades. We travelled throughout Nazgareth, Gort helping me with my mercenary missions and visiting the local water holes. Some of the establishments had other forms of entertainment where we earned some extra coin as well. Gort may or may not have drank some of the places dry and we were kicked out and banned from visiting them again. Gort and I are the best of pals and for some reason I am the only one that can understand him even though the others that know Sylvan can’t. Now this is the life that I was told in those stories long ago as a cub. | | | |
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