Meleck the Grey

Ironmound: A medieval fantasy

This is a fantasy DND-ish game. I am expecting it to start low powered and build. More to come here as I have time.

The Search Resumes!

Hello, I am looking for a Roleplaying partner too!

I am a semi-literate to literate writer that likes to write fantasy. I am not a fan of writing romance as it makes my wife and children a bit upset with me (They like to read over my shoulder at times). I am working two jobs and this is my escape from the stresses of work. It also means that it may take me a day or two to respond to posts.

I enjoy everything from Tolken to the Dresden Files. I have played most of the Whitewolf games, Ars Magica, and too many versions of D&D. (I started with game was lithographs in a zip lock back and the pink dice).

My gaming style is more about the story than the mechanic. I am also not a power gamer; Heroic does not always mean that you are the "biggest and baddest" thing alive. Sometimes it is the one who shows up.

Writing sample:
Sitting at the counter, Andrew took a sip of his tea. The redhead looked tired and his blue eyes sparkeled with the flicker with the fire light. The day had been long and the sunlight was starting to fade through the window behind him.

"It should have been an easy job," he said to the server as he set the cup down.
"Pick up a package. Study the contents, write a report and deliver to the agent," he said as he ran his hand through his hair.

Andrew had not expected the package to be an eighteen year old girl who could change into a wolf. It was okay till the woman tried to bite his arm.

Hope for a Dying World

Andrew listened to Revna and Brother Osric debate the need for healing wounds. Wounds were opening for the demonic influences to get into your blood and to your heart and mind. That was one of the things he had learned in the healing class he attended. Tying knots in bandages was the other thing. He placed bowls near them and tried not to interrupt the casting.

Andrew smiled in appreciation to Sage. She was right. He was tired. He had spent to much time thinking and the demonic influences whispered in the back of his mind. The only defense he knew was to maintain his discipline and perform the rituals that he had come to know.
"There are prayers to be offered, dishes to be washed, and a ward yet to be set for the night, Mother willing," he added as he replied to Sage.

Katrina was still on edge. She did not seem to want to eat. Andrew would eat a second bowl, wasting food out here would be almost criminal. His magic would take some energy to cast.

Alone his ward would keep the food from spoiling and the water from going foul. It should also keep the horses near them.

As he started to cleanup, Andrew watched some ants scurrying to scraps that had fallen to the earth. Ants, spiders, flies, and beetles seemed to thrive in this barren waste.

"At least they were not hornets," Andrew thought as started to wipe the pot and bowls with a cloth. There was a ritual he could have used to clean up. But the ants deserved to eat too.

In the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a slight reflection. Quick then disappearing.

Hope for a Dying World

Andrew had sat in the back of the wagon as the group left the village behind. The pull through the veil put Andrew on edge. That magic was a part of him and it pulled at his soul.

The change came quickly. The sun seemed less welcoming. The wind was constant in its howling. The world changed before his eyes. There in the back he fingered the prayer book. It spoke of hope and love, things that seemed to be in shorter and shorter supply. Fear crept into his heart and he started to panic. Was he in over his head? Could he even help the group? Doubt filled his mind like a poison. Hearing Osric's song gave him hope. "It will be find, everything will be fine, we will set things right," he whispered to himself. Those at the monastery sang to fight off the forces of darkness. Even the laments retained the power of hope, because someone was there to sing them. Even Andrew’s soul sang when he chanted the protective magic of veils. Those were the prayers moved in his heart and mind even while he struggled with the routine liturgical prayers.

Throwing a prayer skyward asking the Holy Mother for aid, Andrew made a sign of reverence. Reassured Andrew sat up a little and started to take in the surrounding land. It was not just lifeless but it felt foreboding. He did not have the words for what he felt or saw, but deep inside he knew that this was a dangerous place. Eventually, the group came to rest. Night would be on them soon. He dismouted the wagon and hurried to gather sticks and branches. Placing them next to the fire ring. He was unsure what to do next. Going to the back he took out a small cookpot. Filling it with water from a skin, he placed it next to the soon to be fire. Opening another bag her grabbed a bag of rice, dried beef, onion, carrot and potato. These he diced up with a small knife. Once the fire was up, he placed the pot on the flames. Looking to the group, "I can make a nice stew if anyone is interested." he said. It felt good to help. Taking out five wooden bowls and spoons, he placed them next to the cooking pot. Andrew looked out, the sun was setting fast and shadows seemed to creep forward with each passing minute. Scanning, he saw nothing moving. Though for some reason he felt as if they were being watched. Shaking his head, he turned back to the fire.

The young Novice sat stirring the stew waiting till all was tender. The aroma from the pot was smelled wonderful after the days ride. Seeing that the potatoes had softened, he removed the pot from the fire. Taking a ladle, he filled each bowl with a hearty serving. Still no one had moved to take any food. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts. Calling out "Stew is ready when you want it," Andrew placed the pot aside and pulled up a spot near the fire. Spooning a bite to his lips, the warmth spread through him. It tasted as good as it smelled. The vegetables had a slight crunch and the beef was full of flavor. Chewing slowly, the young man closed his eyes. Visions of the day played in his mind. So much was new and unknown to him. Fear continued to creep into the edges of his thoughts. The land's starkness was an outer sign of an inner sickness. Healers say that wounds need to be cleaned before being bandaged. Perhaps their journey was the cleansing of the world's wounds. Once finished, new life would spring forth. Inside the Barrier, the Mother's song was strong. Outside he heard only the faint whispers. Opening his eyes, he stared into the fire. Though flames danced, there was no warmth. Rubbing his hands together, he pulled his cloak tighter. A shudder ran through him as the feeling of being watched returned. Looking around the camp, no one else seemed to notice. Saying a quick prayer, he grabbed his bowl and slowly ate the stew. His eyes darted around the camp, looking for any sign of danger.

Hope for a Dying World

The young Novice dutifully followed Orsic and the wagon. Scanning the area for Master Keiler and catching part of the display of power from the women, Andrew sighed a sigh of resignation.

Part of it was for the fact that Sage was a red head and had been nice to him while he was learning his basics. She had shown him mercy when most of the Order had not. She looked more intense and worldly than when she was in the Order.
Katrina was intimidating, which was normal. She had seen many a broken tooth, finger, or rib at her hand. He tried hard to stay wide of the fights she normally ended up in. Though she provided operatunities to get a free meal or drink.
Revna was preparing herself and her horse. She seemed to tease the other women and there was laughter.

As they approached the women, Andrew bowed as the novices are taught to show respect to them. It was a way to hide his nerves and his thoughts. Smiling he rose from his bow was a good cover for the insecurity he felt.

Soon the wagon was loaded with the remaining supplies.

Hope for a Dying World

The morning started early that was when the rolls were hot and the butter melted smoothly. It was a treat that got Andrew out of bed and down to the kitchen before prayers. This morning Sister Charlotte came walking past the kitchen in a quick step. The Dear Sister was a force in the monastery. She took care of the supplies and stores. Andrew liked her because, she could always be counted on find a few spare coins when Andrew wanted to get something in town. She managed to secure the wagon and asked that it be delivered to the stables. When she left, Andrew asked the farmer to wait for a few moments, bribing him with a hot roll and a cup of tea. He gathered what he thought he would need and left a note in his chest. He had not made it to the point of having a cell in the dormitory. Father Keiler would look there to see is Andrew had been working on his copying skills. Andrew figured he had about a day before a search would start.

Riding in the wagon, Andrew watched the world waking up.

Getting to the stable, Andrew went and collected some items from around town. They he returned to the stable to find two young girls at work. After attempting to gain their attention, he climbed up into the wagon and waited. Minutes became an hour and Andrew took advantage of the warmth of the morning and fell asleep.

Later Brother Osric hit the wagon with a staff and said, "Up, lad!" He cried, making no effort to hide his amusement, "You've missed the bell for morning prayers!"

Hay fell from his hair Andrew sat up quickly with a start and started to look around. He stretched and said, "You gave me a scare that Father Keiler was going to come and drag me to penance," Andrew said still half waking himself up.
Recognizing Brother Orsic, Andrew made his way off the back of the wagon to stand.
"Your Grace, I brough some extra provisions for the trip," He said pointing to the front of the wagon.
A small cask of ale, a whole wheel of cheese, a side of ham wrapped in leather, a box of peppermint leaves for tea, and bucket with three dozen hen eggs in it.
"All donated for our success," he added.

Andrew smiled. The items had been donated but not willingly. Lying was against the rules of the order along with stealing. Andrew knew that he would be punished at some point. The Holy Mother always seemed to make things balance out. Trying to save the world seemed like it should more than level the scales.

From his pocket a prayer book from the chapel slid out. With his right hand he caught it before it hit the ground.
"I know we are not to take them from the hall, but I thought.." He said stopping.

They needed prayers and he needed to practice.

Andrew followed Brother Orsic and the wagon out to the others. He made quick eyes at the girls who had been mucking the barn stalls.

Hope for a Dying World

Andrew Harran Greenwood

Name: Brother Andrew Harran Greenwood
Nicknames: Birdy, Brother Bird

Age: 17

Strengths:

Scavenger - This is a polite way of saying that Andrew is a thief. Since he was eight till he was thirteen, Andrew has been squeezing in and out of tight spaces to gain into places, pulling out hinge pins to open locked doors, and working at locks to make them open. Andrew has spent years on his own scavenging to survive. he has a way of finding things of value (to him) or are useful. An example, He might take a roll of string leaving coins. He has learned a fair amount about traps, mostly the hard way. People would set traps trying to keep him out and he has scars to prove it.

Illusion and ward magic - Andrews gifts with magic are still growing. His first native station was a veil in a do not see me prayer that happened when he was stealing food from the Monastery. Hiding down a side hall he crouched holding a meat pie. Around the corner was Father Superior Robert who caught him. Since then he has been able to produce other minor illusions. Andrew was surprised to find that many wards are related to illusions. If he would have thought about it, he would have realized both are affecting the mind and senses. His wards are good as long as he stays stationary and remains focused, a skill he is working at. He is able to cover an area and he is able to do a small area if he is moving very slowly.m

Binding - under the right conditions,Andrew can bind a demon into a crystal. It requires Holy water and some other agents. It is dangerous and still experimental (for him) in nature. (Aka once it is beaten down by the party).

Jack-of- some skills - Andrew is good with his hands and is a quick study for things physical. He can do some basic craft skills like sewing a garment together, spinning thread, weaving things like baskets or cloth, can improvise an arrow head or a knife from metal, can smelt metal to cast. He can even make smoke bombs, a positive side effect of his youth. He is not a blacksmith, tailor, alchemist, or metal worker and his items last for a while.

(For flavor) Cooking - Andrew has learned the art of making most things edible and most of the time tasty.

Weaknesses:
Not a natural fighter - Running away, fighting from a distance, setting a trap, or the best way have someone else fight. That is the way he prefers to handle conflict. He is able to defend himself relying on his flexibility, speed, and a lot of luck.

This might be useful - Andrew is a gatherer. He will pick up things that he thinks might be useful at some point - The bastard sword that he can’t swing, the broken crossbow, a metal shield. He is normally scavenging even when it is not needed. it shows that is worried about not having enough or something will go wrong in the future.

Hear The demons in his head at times - There is something in Andrews family’s past that allows him the hear demons in his mind. The conversation the demon has is rarely pleasant. At times Andrew even agrees with his tormentor. He is the worst novice at the monastery. When he has a gem with a demon contained, the voice is louder.

Driven by food - Andrew is almost always hungry and is motivated by food. It is a trick that his Master figured out. Andrew was never late to a meal. It was how he was motivated to do his studies.

Features:
Andrew was not much to look at, short and gangly with sandy brown hair and clear emerald green eyes that look like he could have stolen them from the Holy Mother herself. His clothes, an assortment of garments that were handed down to him. Sewn together with as much care as the he could muster with the rod of his master on his back. Small scars and cuts run his hands and his arms from his days of thieving and working with animals. A pendent of Rose colored quarts from deep in the mine hangs on a strap around his neck. A belt of small pouches line his waist with items from herbs, to nails, to smooth stones, and crystals he found interesting. On his feet are soft boots that he collected from a man who died. A sling and sending stones are tucked into his belt with a couple daggers use more for cooking than for fighting.

Connections:
TBD

Bio:

Andrew was born to the family of a mine manager on the edge of one of the seven villages. His mother was a farmer, tending to a little livestock, growing a little feed crops and gardening. His father mined bringing up iron ore and smelting it. It was a hard life and Andrew hated that all they ever did was work.

His young life was spent trying to get out of weeding, collecting eggs, slopping pigs, and “working” in the mine (mostly sorting through ore and throwing it in the smelter).

Andrew's mother was a woman of faith and took Andrew to the festivals, worship, and to lessons. In Andrews mind, this was work as well.

Andrew always seemed to be at the spot where trouble occurred. If a cart of apples tipped, Andrew was probably near by. If a barrel leaked, Andrew was probably playing with a knife. Andrew was not bad, just a bit unlucky and way too curious for his own good.

His parents died in a fire leaving Andrew to fend for himself. That resulted in Andrew taking up scavenging (stealing). He found he was good at it. His magic manifested when he had stolen an entire meat pie at the monastery. He had managed to hide and hoped, wished, and prayed that he would not be seen. Magic flared out of him, hiding him from Sisters hunting for the thief. Unfortunately, Father Superior Robert was standing around the corner where he hid. Andrew did not get to eat the pie. That was also the end of his sneaking food from the monastery and his real education began.

---

— Morning prayers —

As the light hit the stain glass a bright beam of light streamed down to the floor. Squirming a little Andrew watched the light make its path from the middle of the sanctuary to the altar. In his chest a drum beat loud enough to fill the hall and am rushing sound filled his ear.

Why me? the young lad. Sweat started to run down his back.
His Master Father Keiler whispered, “Just like we practiced.”
The old man stood within arms reach and Andrew closed his eyes as he sang the first words of the invocation.
“Blessed Mother, we give you thanks for this meal we are about to receive..” we’re the words that came out of his mouth.
Snickers came softly from the room as the Father Keiler sighed.
“Sit down Novice Andrew,” he said in a tone that indicated he expected this.

At the thump of Andrews rump on the Acolyte’s Bench. Father Keiler restarted the morning prayers with a smile and much grandiose as if nothing happened.

Looking at the floor as a boy having to confess his sins to his mother, Andrew started thinking of running away.

As he sat, images in the shadows danced and leaped. A lone figure jumped from the mass of figures and took flight changing into a bird. The bird was red and sped around and upward as arrows flew till it rested on the index finger of Holy Mother’s out stretched hand.

The room had gone quiet and now murmurs rumbled asking if this was a sign. Father Keiler stopped and looked at Andrew.
“Andrew!” He said in a tone that was forceful.
“Let it go,” He said just loud enough for Andrew to hear.

Big hot tears dripped down on his robes and like a shot leaving a sling Andrew was out of the chapel and up one of the flying buttresses.

Assembly Response:

Andrew’s time to take his monastic vows had come and passed with out even being mentioned. His friends were now Initiates and a few were now Sisters even. No mention was made about him taking vows. He did pray to the Holy Mother, just not the prayers the priests tried to teach him. He also did tended to lay on the bench looking up at the images contemplating them. His Master Keiler and The Father Superior normally called it hiding from his studies and chores. The brothers called it sleeping. Laziness was not accepted in the Holy Order.

With the Grand Assembly called, Andrew had been assigned to torch duty. This meant that he spent most of the day placing torches every so far apart around the green.
Two young farm girls walked past as Andrew was placing a torch. As his hammer came down he nearly missed his thumb. dropping both the torch and hammer, and putting his thumb in his mouth to suck on it till the pain eased off. Laughter erupted from the girls as they headed off on their errand.
Pounding torches was mindless work but it did have benefits. The first was he was not going to be beat for daydreaming. His stomach growled at the smell of cooking meat roasting over a grill. With his mouth watering he turned to follow the smell. Just a small snack would not hurt. As he headed that way Mother Osland caught his ear and redirected him back to work. Stealing was ground on by the Holy Order. The mother handed him a few coins when they got a break.

When it was time for the Assembly, Andrew was close to Brother Osric. He was short and with him came a procession of the Monastic Community. As Brother Osric took the stool and spoke. A fat merchant had knocked the torch that almost fell, giving Andrew a reason to give him a dirty look and to move closer to the front.

Andrew listened to what was being spoken. Father Robert had told him about the Cup of Woe and not to touch it. Andrew had even seen the cup in passing. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. In Andrew’s opinion the altar cup, being gold with gems seemed better to him.

“A strange quest for Brother Osric to take,” he thought. Brother Osric was liked maybe even loved in the community.

A warrior woman called out and strode to the front. She started heckling the crowd for volunteers to come forward. Some did.

The young woman’s words bit him hard. Cowards, yes he was. He was no warrior. He was not much of a Novice, or a monk. He was an unfortunate thief.

One of the Initiates teased him, “Well Birdy, do you have wings to fly?”

Hope for a Dying World

No problem! Will make som edits and flush things out. :) Working on my phone right now!

Hope for a Dying World

Andrew Harran Greenwood

Name: Brother Andrew Harran Greenwood
Nicknames: Birdy, Brother Bird

Age: 17

Strengths:

Scavenger - This is a polite way of saying that Andrew is a thief. Since he was eight till he was thirteen, Andrew has been squeezing in and out of tight spaces to gain into places, pulling out hinge pins to open locked doors, and working at locks to make them open. Andrew has spent years on his own scavenging to survive. he has a way of finding things of value (to him) or are useful. An example, He might take a roll of string leaving coins. He has learned a fair amount about traps, mostly the hard way. People would set traps trying to keep him out and he has scars to prove it.

Illusion and ward magic - Andrews gifts with magic are still growing. His first native station was a veil in a do not see me prayer that happened when he was stealing food from the Monastery. Hiding down a side hall he crouched holding a meat pie. Around the corner was Father Superior Robert who caught him. Since then he has been able to produce other minor illusions. Andrew was surprised to find that many wards are related to illusions. If he would have thought about it, he would have realized both are affecting the mind and senses. His wards are good as long as he stays stationary and remains focused, a skill he is working at. He is able to cover an area and he is able to do a small area if he is moving very slowly.m

Binding - under the right conditions,Andrew can bind a demon into a crystal. It requires Holy water and some other agents. It is dangerous and still experimental (for him) in nature. (Aka once it is beaten down by the party).

Jack-of- some skills - Andrew is good with his hands and is a quick study for things physical. He can do some basic craft skills like sewing a garment together, spinning thread, weaving things like baskets or cloth, can improvise an arrow head or a knife from metal, can smelt metal to cast. He can even make smoke bombs, a positive side effect of his youth. He is not a blacksmith, tailor, alchemist, or metal worker and his items last for a while.

(For flavor) Cooking - Andrew has learned the art of making most things edible and most of the time tasty.

Weaknesses:
Not a natural fighter - Running away, fighting from a distance, setting a trap, or the best way have someone else fight. That is the way he prefers to handle conflict. He is able to defend himself relying on his flexibility, speed, and a lot of luck.

This might be useful - Andrew is a gatherer. He will pick up things that he thinks might be useful at some point - The bastard sword that he can’t swing, the broken crossbow, a metal shield. He is normally scavenging even when it is not needed. it shows that is worried about not having enough or something will go wrong in the future.

Hear The demons in his head at times - There is something in Andrews family’s past that allows him the hear demons in his mind. The conversation the demon has is rarely pleasant. At times Andrew even agrees with his tormentor. He is the worst novice at the monastery. When he has a gem with a demon contained, the voice is louder.

Driven by food - Andrew is almost always hungry and is motivated by food. It is a trick that his Master figured out. Andrew was never late to a meal. It was how he was motivated to do his studies.

Features:
Andrew was not much to look at, short and gangly with sandy brown hair and clear emerald green eyes that look like he could have stolen them from the Holy Mother herself. His clothes, an assortment of garments that were handed down to him. Sewn together with as much care as the he could muster with the rod of his master on his back. Small scars and cuts run his hands and his arms from his days of thieving and working with animals. A pendent of Rose colored quarts from deep in the mine hangs on a strap around his neck. A belt of small pouches line his waist with items from herbs, to nails, to smooth stones, and crystals he found interesting. On his feet are soft boots that he collected from a man who died. A sling and sending stones are tucked into his belt with a couple daggers use more for cooking than for fighting.

Connections:
TBD

Bio:

Andrew was born to the family of a mine manager on the edge of one of the seven villages. His mother was a farmer, tending to a little livestock, growing a little feed crops and gardening. His father mined bringing up iron ore and smelting it. It was a hard life and Andrew hated that all they ever did was work.

His young life was spent trying to get out of weeding, collecting eggs, slopping pigs, and “working” in the mine (mostly sorting through ore and throwing it in the smelter).

Andrew's mother was a woman of faith and took Andrew to the festivals, worship, and to lessons. In Andrews mind, this was work as well.

Andrew always seemed to be at the spot where trouble occurred. If a cart of apples tipped, Andrew was probably near by. If a barrel leaked, Andrew was probably playing with a knife. Andrew was not bad, just a bit unlucky and way too curious for his own good.

His parents died in a fire leaving Andrew to fend for himself. That resulted in Andrew taking up scavenging (stealing). He found he was good at it. His magic manifested when he had stolen an entire meat pie at the monastery. He had managed to hide and hoped, wished, and prayed that he would not be seen. Magic flared out of him, hiding him from Sisters hunting for the thief. Unfortunately, Father Superior Robert was standing around the corner where he hid. Andrew did not get to eat the pie. That was also the end of his sneaking food from the monastery and his real education began.

---

— Morning prayers —

As the light hit the stain glass a bright beam of light streamed down to the floor. Squirming a little Andrew watched the light make its path from the middle of the sanctuary to the altar. In his chest a drum beat loud enough to fill the hall and am rushing sound filled his ear.

Why me? the young lad. Sweat started to run down his back.
His Master Father Keiler whispered, “Just like we practiced.”
The old man stood within arms reach and Andrew closed his eyes as he sang the first words of the invocation.
“Blessed Mother, we give you thanks for this meal we are about to receive..” we’re the words that came out of his mouth.
Snickers came softly from the room as the Father Keiler sighed.
“Sit down Novice Andrew,” he said in a tone that indicated he expected this.

At the thump of Andrews rump on the Acolyte’s Bench. Father Keiler restarted the morning prayers with a smile and much grandiose as if nothing happened.

Looking at the floor as a boy having to confess his sins to his mother, Andrew started thinking of running away.

As he sat, images in the shadows danced and leaped. A lone figure jumped from the mass of figures and took flight changing into a bird. The bird was red and sped around and upward as arrows flew till it rested on the index finger of Holy Mother’s out stretched hand.

The room had gone quiet and now murmurs rumbled asking if this was a sign. Father Keiler stopped and looked at Andrew.
“Andrew!” He said in a tone that was forceful.
“Let it go,” He said just loud enough for Andrew to hear.

Big hot tears dripped down on his robes and like a shot leaving a sling Andrew was out of the chapel and up one of the flying buttresses.

Assembly Response:

Andrew’s time to take his monastic vows had come and passed with out even being mentioned. His friends were now Initiates and a few were now Sisters even. No mention was made about him taking vows. He did pray to the Holy Mother, just not the prayers the priests tried to teach him. He also did tended to lay on the bench looking up at the images contemplating them. His Master Keiler and The Father Superior normally called it hiding from his studies and chores. The brothers called it sleeping. Laziness was not accepted in the Holy Order.

With the Grand Assembly called, Andrew had been assigned to torch duty. This meant that he spent most of the day placing torches every so far apart around the green.
Two young farm girls walked past as Andrew was placing a torch. As his hammer came down he nearly missed his thumb. dropping both the torch and hammer, and putting his thumb in his mouth to suck on it till the pain eased off. Laughter erupted from the girls as they headed off on their errand.
Pounding torches was mindless work but it did have benefits. The first was he was not going to be beat for daydreaming. His stomach growled at the smell of cooking meat roasting over a grill. With his mouth watering he turned to follow the smell. Just a small snack would not hurt. As he headed that way Mother Osland caught his ear and redirected him back to work. Stealing was ground on by the Holy Order. The mother handed him a few coins when they got a break.

When it was time for the Assembly, Andrew was close to Brother Osric. He was short and with him came a procession of the Monastic Community. As Brother Osric took the stool and spoke. A fat merchant had knocked the torch that almost fell, giving Andrew a reason to give him a dirty look and to move closer to the front.

Andrew listened to what was being spoken. Father Robert had told him about the Cup of Woe and not to touch it. Andrew had even seen the cup in passing. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. In Andrew’s opinion the altar cup, being gold with gems seemed better to him.

“A strange quest for Brother Osric to take,” he thought. Brother Osric was liked maybe even loved in the community.

A warrior woman called out and strode to the front. She started heckling the crowd for volunteers to come forward. Some did.

The young woman’s words bit him hard. Cowards, yes he was. He was no warrior. He was not much of a Novice, or a monk. He was an unfortunate thief.

One of the Initiates teased him, “Well Birdy, do you have wings to fly?”

Home is where the Hearth is [Closed]

I would be interested in joining too!

I am thinking a cleric or merchant (Intelligence based Rouge build) that can do a few crafts (Maybe a brewer as the base)..