Legends of Belariath

StormWind

StormWind was born, the eldest son of a Stone crafter, his father, and his mother, a Knight. He new, from a young age that all he wanted to do in life was be a stone crafter like his father. Due to his father’s influence, he was allowed to join the stone crafter’s guild at a young age, as an apprentice, and worked for a year, trying to prove his talent, his worthiness to be a member of his father’s guild. At the end of that year, he had proven only one thing, that though he may possess great talent, it did not lie in the area of shaping the stones.

He was cast out of the Guild. He had become a great disappointment to his father, and the laughing stock of the town. For another whole year, he lived in the city with his family, trying to redeem himself in the eyes of his father. During this time, his mother watched in silence, mourning for the sadness brought to her family. She loved her son, and her mate, hating to see either in this kind of pain. Clandestinely she sought a solution, through the use of her own connections. For the longest time, the once respected Knight, suffering unknowingly from the stigma that was her son, found each door upon which she knocked, closed to her.

Finally, after a good deal of convincing, she managed to talk the head of her chapter of knights into offering StormWind a place with the order. Little did she know that even in the halls of the order was her family made a mockery. Though she was an honorable Knight, she was not as well respected as she once had been at one time.

The head of her order did indeed intend to give StormWind a home with the Knights of Sheara, but he did not intend to have the laughing stock of the city, bring the disgraced to the knightly order that he had to his own family. He had hatched a plan that would allow him to keep his vow to his sister knight, and yet allow him to shed his village of this fool.

Not so much as a day had past, before StormWind had been given a quest, one that would take him far from his home. He was to travel to this place called Nanthalion. There he would act as his city's advanced alert. He was to keep eyes and ears peeled, and warn those in the town of Nanthalion of the coming of those that every Chirot feared, the Kiroan, the feathered beasts who had cast the Chirot from their rightful home, at the side of the Mother Sheara.

So desperate were the knights to be rid of StormWind, that they did not even take the time, to be sure he was equipped properly for his journey, giving him only some scant provisions and a horse. So desperate was our friend StormWind for the feeling of purpose, that he did not think to question his lack of equipment, but not a fool was he. When offered his choice of the city's horses, rather than choose from the nags put before him, with a shrewd glimmer in his eyes, StormWind turned to face the head of his order. So startled was this knight that he was driven back a step, but it was not his tormenter Storm was after, but his horse, the finest animal in the city. Resting the horse's reins from the fist of the trembling “knight”, StormWind smiled at his mother in farewell, knowing she had done her best to aid him to escape the hole he had dug for himself. He saluted his father, promising in some way erase the stain on the family honor, and with that, StormWind departed, leading his only prize from this exchange, the stallion 'Night Star', quietly behind him.*** Several weeks later, despite his attempts to conserve his meager supplies, StormWind found himself hungry and out of food. He took to the air, and in one action, remade himself into a hunter. He spotted a heard of wandering goat headed down the mountain. Dropping from the air, StormWind landed on the back of one of the largest males in the herd. His powerful arms gave a jerk, snapping the beast's neck. Carrying the goat back to his camp, he slowly and clumsily began the work of skinning and gutting the thing. That night, he feasted on a haunch of goat roasted over his fire, and wild onions gathered from near the mouth of the cave he had chosen to rest in.

The next several days were too hot to travel in, so Storm spent them in the cool dampness of his small cave, busying himself during the day by chipping away at the flint deposits he had found within, laughing at himself because this seemed to be the only thing he could do in the area of stone craft. He spent his nights feasting on goat...mushrooms, and wild onions. By the end of the third day he had managed to fashion a large blade, which he thought would be useful for cutting through the joints and sinews of animals, a smaller, finer blade he planned to use for the skinning of game, and several long, fine needles, he planned to use for repairing his clothes, as he could not conceive of a future in which there would be new ones soon.

When he left his temporary home at the end of the third day, he made an interesting discovery. The discarded skin of his goat had dried and leathered in the sun. The sight of the leathered goatskin served to rekindle within the outcast Chirot, the desire to create, the same desire he had thought long lost, when he was shut out of his father's guild. Taking the leather into his hands he explored it with long, delicate fingers, seeing within it first the grain and coloring of the skin, and then, surprisingly, the forms it could be cut into, shaped and sewn.

Taking up the smaller of his two flint blades, he began to cut forms, by the light of his small fire, eventually using every small scrap of the leather, beginning first by cutting the forms needed for a pair of trousers, as well as a set of moccasins. He then began to sew, using hairs from his horse's mane and tail for thread. As he began to stitch the leather together, his mind slipped into a sort of reverie, humming to himself as he stitched. Before he knew it, the work was done. StormWind examined his work critically, and carefully redid a few of the stitches so they would not unravel.

By the time StormWind slipped into his new clothes and stepped out of the cave, the moon was high in the sky. He packed the remains of his leather in a bundle, and took to the sky, determined to make up for the time he’d spent in his cave over the last several days. By the time he dropped from the sky, the night and most of the next day had passed in flight. StormWind made a quick fire, and gathered some tuners and herbs for his dinner. Once he was done with his evening meal, he carefully put out his fire, and slipped into another cave near the foot of the mountains and went into trance to rest.

When he woke, the sun was once again high and hot in the sky. StormWind decided to spend the heat of the day working with more of his leather. He unrolled his bundle on the floor of the cave, and went to work. His mind slipped into his work, and with the use of his flint blades and needles, he created a tunic, and a wide belt. With the last bit of the dried leather, he made himself a small pouch to hang at his belt.

He then packed up his things, and left the cave in search of food. He found and slaughtered a large buck, but in his search for a cave in which to spend the night, he found instead, a camp of Gypsies who offered to share their fire with him, in exchange for a share of his meat. StormWind gladly agreed, and sat down to dinner with his new friends.

As fate would have it, he sat that night next to the camp’s leather smith. The man commented on the quality of work in StormWind’s new clothes, and when StormWind shared the fact that he had made them himself, the man was impressed, and offered, in exchange for a day’s work, to share a few tips with our Chirot friend.

So StormWind spent the whole of the next day, working and learning. He hauled skins to the camp’s improvised tanning shed, and learned how to stretch larger skins over a frame for drying, to prevent wrinkling or shrinkage, while the skin of smaller animals were hung from the roof of the small shed to conserve room. He also learned how to boil leather in tallow to make it harden for use in armor and other items. StormWind learned how to stamp, and incise decorations into the leather, for a more appealing look, but perhaps the most important thing he learned was that he needed better tools than the ones he could make himself. In exchange for his very hard work, the leather smith filled his pouch with as much coin as he could spare, and pointed him in the direction of a small town where he might be able to find the tools he needed. StormWind helped the Gypsies pack camp, and waved good-bye, then watched them move off back the way he had come.

Once the last wagon was out of sight, he took flight, and landed just outside the town of which the leather smith had spoken. Outside a small tavern, StormWind found the wagon of a merchant. He stepped into the inn, and asked after the wagon’s owner. A buxom bar maid shuddered, and pointed toward the dirt caked face of an inebriated dwarf, who was singing rather loudly and off key. StormWind made his way to the dwarf, and as politely as he could, inquired about making a purchase. The dwarf, who by this time in the evening had consumed several pints of the tavern’s sour ale, was amusing himself by pawing at a large breasted cat girl, while the dirty and neglected elven slave chained to his belt tried her best to ignore his actions. As the dwarf turned to see whom it was that had spoken to him, the cat girl slipped from his grasp and beat a path to the door. Drunk, ill tempered, and further aggravated by having lost his night’s entertainment, the dwarf was further embittered to find, a Chirot looking down at him.

Still sour over being caught between a torian, and one of, “those leather-winged bastards”, he swore, and tried to shove the chirot away.

StormWind however, was in no mood to leave, without having purchased what he came for, and remembering that dwarves, besides their passion for drink, often also had a weakness for wagering. He proposed a small bet, and noticed out of the corner of his eye as the green orbs of the elf came to life. Each man stepped up to a small dartboard, and chose a single dart. StormWind, with the aim of a race of archers, let fly, and sent his dart into the target near the very center. The dwarf on the other hand, stumbled in his drunkenness and nearly missed the board entirely.

The dwarf was furious, and demanded a rematch. Having nothing else in his wagon that was of interest to his opponent, the dwarf offered, as his part of the wager, his slave, the elf at his feet. StormWind reluctantly accepted, and took his dart from the board, stepping back. This time, the dwarf took the first shot, and placed his dart in one of the inner rings of the target, but StormWind, whose aim was not as good with this shot as his last, still landed his shot nearer the mark. Enraged, the dwarf attempted to rush at the Chirot. StormWind, being quicker and lighter on his feet, sidestepped the charge, and with the aide of a hand to his opponent’s back, sent the charging dwarf head long into a wall, and unconsciousness. With the slave’s leash in his hand, the keys to her collar in his pouch, and the applause of a tavern filled with people in his ears, he went out to the dwarf’s wagon to claim the rest of his winnings. In the wagon, he found several kits of the most essential leatherworking tools, in response to a timid whisper from the elf, whose name he later knew as gwyneth, he chose the finest of the tool kits, and almost as an after thought, took also, several cakes of soap, leaving the coin for the soap dropped through the slot of the dwarf’s iron bound strong box. Though he did not speak to her of it, he could not fail to notice the look of admiration on the face of his new companion.

As they left the small town, he reached into his pouch, and pressed the keys to the steel collar into the elf’s small hand. Looking down at her hand, she threw the keys to the ground and threw herself at his feet. He looked at her curiously, and then realized that in a small voice, she was begging not to be released. He considered this for a long moment, leaving her at his feet while he thought. He finally came to the conclusion, that to release her, unprepared and defenseless, into the world, would be cruel, and so, he agreed to allow her to stay. Only after making certain she understood that he was not making her leave, did he pick up the keys, and turn them in the lock of the collar casting the collar, and the keys into the river he found himself following. In the next town they passed, he had gwyneth fitted for a new collar.

Over the next several months, they talked, and got to know one another. He told her of his mission, and she told him about life with Grim, the dwarf. She helped him get accustomed to the owning of a slave, despite his race’s prejudice toward the practice. Slowly, they came to love one another. He spent the fall, and winter taking work with the leather smiths in each town they traveled through, and improving his touch at the craft as he learned a bit from each craftsman he met. She spent the fall and winter teaching her new Master to read, and write, as well as how to be a Master, and he learned.

Some time in the late spring, the two travelers came upon the Lonely Inn, and the town of Nantholian. With their journey ended, they began to settle in, and make friends. Before their first month in Nantholian was ended, the inn itself was attacked twice, once by a magical creature of wind, after which they made the acquaintance of General Krom, the Barbarian leader of the Empire’s most prestigious troop of Legionnaires.

The second attack was a group of Orcs, during which StormWind provided the General with precious seconds by giving the first alarm, thanks to his Chirot ears, and then succeeded in drawing first blood on one of the Orcs before being overrun and sent into a Chirot death trance. Shortly after this attack, StormWind responded to a call for help from a small boarder town. He and two companions discovered word of the threat he had been dreading. The Kiroan had made their way to Belariath. Returning to Nantholian he did what he had been sent to do. He gave the alert, and found that people in town either did not believe him, or worse, did not seem to care. This troubled him greatly, and so he began to take steps to protect himself and his new home.

Since his return, he has joined the guild, to improve his craft, and has begun to pursue a place in the Gold Legion. He has found that many slaves catch his interest, and was surprised to find that this did not trouble his little elf, but pleased and encouraged her greatly. It seems he will, after all, make for himself, a new life, in Nantholian. The only fear he still has, is his inevitable return…. Home. (further updates to come soon)

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