This is a place for a journal of the game, but the players can do that, so it can be from their point of view.
Olabar
I guess somebody better start, and since I'm here I guess that somebody might as well be me. However, since the telling of our tale starts at such an awkward time, I think it might be best to start by formally introducing myself to my party-members. This way, our most gracious audience might too learn to know me, and the rest of the party should they wish to do the same, before they learn of our adventures.
My name is Olabar Elswheyr, and I belong to the unhappily well known hin clan Longshadow. The story and defining characteristics of my clan should be evident from our name, and it is a familiy history I am less than proud of. Nut nevermind the tragedies of my childhood, it will be enough time to cover such unpleasant ground later, if it is needed.
Skipping ahead to happier times, I was apprenticed to the good master Thorul Blackhammer. Thorul was a former adventurer and collegue of my uncle Tamer Fourtopple. He taught me much about the arcane arts, both it's uses and it's potential abuses. But more importantly, Thorul taught me to respect the natural order of all things and the inherent benevolence to a systematic approach to life. It is a lesson I fear I have deviated from as of late, and I shall seek to redeem myself somehow. Nevermind that, I am rambling.
Upon finishing my apprenticeship with Master Blackhammer I immediatly set out to seek fame and fortune. I had heard of a mystery concerning magical apples, goblins, and wicked-looking trees in a village quite a bit to the north-east of the town I had spent the last few years with Thorul, so I began combing the bars and inns for possible compatriots interested in the same mystery. It was that my very first adventuring party formed, and we set out to uncover the unholy grove of the evil druid Belak, but that is for the main body of this tale. I have introduced myself, and I hope the rest of my fellow party-members, my pack-brothers as some might term it, will follow suit.
Eders for Evig,
Olabar Elswheyr Longshadow
Griffix
Griffix was the eldest son of a successful wool merchant, Astynax. The family's ancestors had lived in a town, Treford, located in the heartlands of Cormyr, for many generations and were considered an integral part of the bedrock on which the community was based. Primarily, the family was well-liked by those from the village and surrounding farmsteads, but their good fortune and bulging coffers sowed the seeds of wretched envy amongst some who had fallen upon hard times.
One summer, after a harsh winter during which the town's stores would have failed if not for the intervention of Astynax, a deadly plague descended upon the inhabitants of Treford, sending many to an early grave, and cursing the few who survived the disease's corrupt embrace with blindness and insanity. Astynax, who was said to be as tough and obstinate as a tree stump, was among the first to succumb to the ravages of the illness; but he did not immediately die, rather he clung to life, albeit unable to move and often lapsing into feverish madness. The weakness of the family's stalwart pater allowed those whose hearts had been blackened by envy and minds clouded by greed to spread hate and lies. The townsfolk reeling from the death and suffering which plagued their town took heed of these malignant words and turned their fear and exhaustion on the family of Astynax.
During that summer, Griffix's 12th, he was forced to lead his family, which now consisted of his mother, his older sister, and his ailing father, into the wilderness, away from the town's growing hostility. Next to a small pool of drinkable water they constructed a sod house and set about preparing for the long winter ahead. While his mother and sister attempted to coax some fruits and vegetables from a tiny garden, Griffix took up a crude bow and cudgel in the hopes of augmenting their meagre supplies with meat. A novice hunter, he failed to capture any game. That winter the family watched as their father and husband weakened and eventually died from insufficient food and heat. And as the winter deepened Griffix and his sister had to pierce the frosty ground a second time when their mother passed away; she succumed to starvation because she had been secretly giving her share of the food to her two children. Finally winter gave way to spring. The brother and sister had managed to survive their first winter in their new home.
Over the course of the spring and summer, as his sister, Laetitia, tended the garden, to great result, Griffix again took up the implements of hunting. One evening Griffix arrived home from yet another unsuccessful hunt to find Laetitia talking and laughing with a handsome young man as they drank tea from grimy, chipped cups. The interloper was Markus, a Game Warden in service to the Cormyrian King and responsible for the capture of poachers active on the King’s land. The young and strapping Warden cast a knowing eye over Griffix’s hunting gear, but said nothing of it and resumed his conversation with Laetitia.
Markus became a regular, and welcomed, visitor to their home, and though he appeared to enjoy spending time with the young Griffix, even subtly giving tips on hunting, it was clear that Laetitia was the primary reason for his visits. The following winter was milder and less arduous than the previous, in part because the siblings had shored up their sod home and had adequate stores, which included even some meat from successful hunts. That winter on a dazzlingly clear day, Griffix ventured deep into the forst to get in some hunting. As he skulked through the snow and past the trees a terrible roar sent his heart leaping into his throat. A boar of incredible size crashed out of a snow covered bush and barrelled towards the astonished boy. Fortunately he quickly regained his wits and began running through the deep snow. As the boar gained ground the youth scrambled up a nearby tree in the branches of which he was safe from the terrible tusks of the beast. However as the hours passed and the sun dropped beneath the horizon the irate boar remained at the base of tree; its presence betrayed by its loud huffing and snorting. Finally exhaustion overcame Griffix and he fell into a fitful sleep, nestled in the tree’s branches. He jolted out of his sleep by a the impact of a small stone on his forehead. The shock caused him to lose his perch and fall out of the tree and onto the snow beneath. Immediately he scrambled to his feet and hastened onto a low hanging branch, which broke beneath his weight and again he plunged into the cold snow; on his hands and knees and thoroughly panicked he looked around for the fatal rush of the boar. It never came. Instead he saw standing not far away a hulking, aged half-orc wrapped tightly in a thick green cloak. The stranger stalked over to where Griffix yet kneeled in the snow and pulled the stunned boy to his feet. Brushing the snow off Griffix, the half-orc quietly, but forcefully questioned the youth. Thus they walked and talked, the ravenous Griffix eagerly consuming the bread, cheese, and dried meats offered by the helf-orc, all the while answering any questions put to him.
In the subsequent months the half-orc, who revealed his name to be Sil’guh, visited regularly, always with a polite word, and seeds, for Laetitia, but never staying for tea or supper. He would take Griffix into the deep wilds of the forest; during these their time together Sil’guh taught Griffix about the indigenous flora and fauna, and how to support oneself on the bounty provided by the forest. The youth proved to be an eager and attentive student. And as the months passed Laetitia’s and Markus’ affection became ever greater and Griffix grew into the strength and endurance of an adult, the burly half-orc even gave him a few lessons with some basic weapons. The knowledge passed along by Sil’guh coupled with young man’s superior physical prowess turned Griffix into a formidable hunter, but the half-orc also instilled in him a deep respect for nature, so that he never took more than he required. Their good fortune was not to last.
Daruss' life in a nutshell
Daruss' story began in one of the seedier areas of Westgate, where he was found as a baby in a dark alley by his adoptive parents. Common opinion places him as the offspring of an elvish adventurer and one of the 'working women' of the area.
His adoptive parents, a simple potter and his wife, saved him from death and took him into their own family.
Due to his elvish parentage, Daruss always felt the allure of magic, the pull of arcane power, but alas, his parents could afford to sponsor him in his dream of becoming one of the magic weilding mages.
Never one to give up on his dream, Daruss swore to gather the money he needed himself, and joined a band of street theives operating in Westgate.
After months of burglaries and thefts, Daruss realised that he was no closer to reaching his goal than when he started, while the gang leader, Borrints, was richer from his efforts.
At the age of 17, he left the gang of theives, after an argument with Borrints, and returned to his parents house.
He returned to their corpses, and a looted potters shack, and a band of Borrints men.
Fleeing for his life, he left Westgate, and fled to the town of Mirans Edge, where he hoped to hide and live safely.
Living in Mirans Edge, he met and befreinded the elderly mage Rhyston, who eventually took him on as a servant.
Despite his best efforts, Daruss could never get Rhyston to teach him magic, but the time he spent with Rhyston did allow him to learn the basics of wand use, and days in the mages extensive library taught him the basics of scroll use.
After a while, the pull of power became too much for Daruss, merely watching his master using magic merely made him long for its power. Using the skills he learnt on the street, he began to pocket wands from his masters workshop, or scrolls from the library and using them.
In the beginning, his absent-minded master didnt notice his loss, but success breeds confidence, and confidence begets misfortune.
He began to 'borrow' multiple items at a time, or items of greater power, and eventually his thefts were noticed.
And so, for the second time in his life, Daruss found himself on the run, with powerfull enemies behind him, and barely anything to call his own.
Realising that the safety he desired could be supplied by a wanderers lifestyle, and the protection of allies, he began to pass himself off as a bard, albeit badly, and to frequent taverns which adventurers frequent, eventually joining a druid, a warrior, a monk, and most importantly, a wizard, in a small rural town tavern.
The rest, as they say, is history.