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Seeing that the group of kids seem to be trying to find a way into the barn, Daetha decides he needs to do something. Putting the jug of cider carefully down by the kitchen door, he glances at Orick then marches determinedly over to Taya. “What are you doing?” he hisses urgently, keeping his voice low. “You’re going to get in trouble if someone sees you back here – that kitchen is full of halflings you know!” he gestures back towards the door that he and Orick emerged from.
Daetha waves back at Taya. “I don’t know,” he replies to Orick, “but they do look like they’re up to something. Why are they all carrying sticks and such?” Daetha’s young brow furrows. It occurs to him that the gang of children looks a little too covert, and then there are all the sticks … he wonders if they’re trying to break in somewhere or something. No, that doesn’t sound like Taya and Nagy – but then it’s also not like Taya not to come and say hello properly… He glances around. “Do you think it’s safe to leave this stuff here for a moment, and go and see what they’re doing? Something doesn’t seem right, I don’t want anyone to do anything they’d get into trouble for. Do you think Mister Hortin can wait a few more minutes?” “Look, isn’t that Vlad who works at the Risper’s ranch? What’s he doing with that dog?”
“Oh! Thankyou, but that’s two much!” protests Daetha, having the silver coin thrust into one hand and the muffin into the other, but Tubtaffer is already turning away to speak to another boy who has entered the kitchen behind Daetha. The lad turns to see Orick, whom he knows passingly well from the shrine. “Hello Orick,” he replies when the other kid is finished speaking to Tubtuffer and addresses him. “Yes, that’s right.” He solemnly pockets the silver coin, then looks at the muffin and at the other boy. He breaks the muffin in half, releasing a sweet aroma, and offers one half to Orick. “What are you doing? We better get out of here, if you don’t want to end up covered in soup too… Do you need help carrying anything?”
Daetha tries to duck out of the soup (pun intended), but is too slow to react, copping the greasy liquid straight in the chest. He looks down in dismay. “Erm … it’s alright, it’s not too hot,” says the boy, although he looks a bit dismayed. “Do you have a cloth or rag or such that I might clean this off? Oh, my mother’s herbs,” he says, holding the bundle and looking up.
"Excuse me, Mister Wottinbrook?" Daetha calls out a bit louder than his earlier cough. "I have the herbs here from my mother." He holds up the bundle.
In the clearing: Daetha takes another draught of metheglin, the smooth liquid warming and refreshing him, then hands the flask back to Running Fox, listening intently to what the elf has to say about the hochebi. He nods in understanding and prepares to head back home, feeling braver now with the metheglin inside him and the hochebi clearly gone. He’ll have to ask Vesedanroi what hochebi are later too… At the market: Daetha hurries through the square, taking in side-long glances at the wagons, stalls and people as he does, but generally keeping his head down and avoiding eye-contact – there are some in town who say that Witchy Tain’s youngest is marked, and he wants to avoid confrontation; he has only an hour or so before he needs to return home, and he wants to make his deliveries quickly so that he can spend the two worn copper coins in his pocket at the market, or at Grossin’s. The bundle of herbs bouncing against his back, tied to a springy stick, he hurries towards The White Stag.
“Lucksy,” says Daetha inanely, his voice shaking. He tries to get himself back under control, but its not easy … he is quite sure that he just narrowly avoided death or worse. “What were they?” he asks Running Fox, then suddenly remembers the silver flask. His hand trembling only slightly, he reaches into his shirt to draw it out and hand it back to the elf. “We almost left this,” he says.
Daetha stays in hiding, clasping the flask within his shirt and breathing in the scent of the flower, until either Running Fox has returned, or he has counted to 100 twice.
Daetha stands bewildered for a brief moment, wondering what is happening, and what Running Fox meant. Is this part of the lesson? Somehow he thinks not … and the elf said to hide. Suddenly feeling scared, the boy looks about for a place to hide, then suddenly spies the silver flask on the ground in the middle of the clearing. If Running Fox wants him to hide, he should also hide any sign that they’ve been here. He snatches up the flask, putting it within his shirt, then looks around for a hiding place, in the opposite direction to where Running Fox went – and away from where he hears the cry (does it sound like the elf, or someone else?)
Daetha nods. “Yes,” meaning the Metheglin, but Running Fox is already asking about the bow. He gulps down the smooth liquid. “Yes,” he repeats, looking up at the elf with eagerness shining in his eyes. “Sir, I would dearly like to learn how to use such a bow – would you teach me? Is it a weapon of war, or of hunting?”
Daetha sits upright, pushing aside the slight pangs of hunger and the tiredness that is beginning to lurk at the edges of his mind. He throws a quick sideways glance at Finwe, then nods eagerly. “Yes I would, thankyou,” he answers Running Fox, standing and looking around to see if there is anything he can help with.
Daetha nods his head in thanks, and sits down where Running Fox indicates. “All of us?” he asks, and looks about. For the first time he notices Finwe sitting at the edge of the bushes nearby. He flushes slightly, then gestures the girl over. “This smells very good sir,” he addresses Running Fox, accepting the bark plate. “Thankyou for sharing your meal with me.” He’s not quite sure if this is a lesson, or a test, or something else all together. If the elf is eating, or seemingly waiting for him to eat, he will do so, otherwise he will wait for Finwe to join them. He eats the flowers along with the meat, being careful to choose only the ones he is certain are edible, based on the years of eating food his mother had foraged from the woods. As he eats, he eyes the white bow partially hidden by the bushes. “That must be your bow sir,” he says to Running Fox. “It looks quite magnificent.”
Daetha enjoys his daily lessons with Palfourd. Although he is not illiterate, there has never been much time for formal schooling before this, and he was intimidated by the thoughts of piles of books and dense crabbed writing like in Trant’s ledgers. But the kindly priest knows how to make things easy for the lad, and Daetha is enthralled by the tales of Gnarly rangers, the lessons on plants and animals, and barely notices that his grammar and handwriting is improving by leaps and bounds as he undertakes the assignments that Palfourd sets him. He is equally interested in the priest’s elven bow (though try as he might he cannot make sense of the letters carved into it … perhaps his friend Finwe could read them), but he hasn’t ever yet quite plucked up the courage to ask his teacher if he may try to use it, and the man has not offered. He follows Palfourd out of town this day, excited at the prospect of spending this day’s lessons out doors. Perhaps he will have to identify rare herbs or plants, or learn the old names of trees, or observe squirrels or … They reach the cashel, and Daetha stops nervously before the entrance, eying the elf standing at the gap in the earthern walls. He’s seen elves before of course – his some-time boss Vesedanroi has elven blood, and his odd friend Finwe is an elf of course … but when Vesedanroi is working at the forge it is easy enough to forget that he is elven, and Finwe is a girl little older then he – well, she says that she is a hundred years older than him, but she acts like a girl (an odd one, to be sure, but then most girls are somewhat odd … and she’s quite pretty under the dirt and ragged clothes that oft adorn her … Daetha has begun to notice that, and it confuses him somewhat … he’s realised recently that he’s both hoping for and strangely dreading the next time Finwe asks him to swim together at Tadpole Pond…) He quickly banishes such thoughts from his mind at looks again at the elf. He’s quite intimidating, with those tattoos and those deep, old eyes. Daetha wets his dry lips, and then looks at the arrows and the pots. Well, he wanted an interesting lesson, and this is sure to be it. He looks up at the priest and nods firmly, sets his young chin and then steps forward. “Clear skies and good morning sir,” he says, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. “I am called Daetha Tain.” He sticks out his right hand in greeting (a greeting which of course doubles in showing that he bears no weapon), before suddenly wondering if elves use the same sort of greeting as the men of the village.
French Wolf, my first year training plan is done. For the background, I’ll probably add a little more, but I don’t intend to ramble on for as long as I did with Thorn! I’m also a little hesitant to go into too much detail, given that some of it is shared background with the other guys, and I haven’t totally gotten all the connections and stories straight yet. Two things I was wondering; the starting gold that we rolled as part of Step 1 – should I explain this (and possibly spend it) as something that happens prior to year 1’s actions, or can I use the coming years events to help inform me as to how Daetha may have come by this 50gp? Second thing is ranger favoured enemy … have you got any suggestions as to what this should be? I suppose it would either be orcs (given the theat of Turrosh Mak’s orcs), humans (based on clashes with people in the village) or something that inhabits the Gnarly Wood (animals? Magical beasts? Fey? Plants? What is a threat?) I’m not sure if I should write this into my background or let coming events help (possibly) inform it? One more thing, where is the village where I was marked as a child of evil?
So, connections with the others. Daetha is possibly a half brother to the Rispers. He met Finwe as a child, and the ten (?) year old boy and 100+ year old elf struck up an unlikely friendship. By the age of 12 he is working (perhaps as an apprentice, perhaps not) at the village smithy, so if any of the others work there at some point, there’s another connection. Given his home situation it is quite possible that well meaning or meddlesome authorities took him away from his mother at some point and placed him in the orphanage, where he may have met Vladimir – of course he soon ran away and ended up back at home.
The woman called Tain was a stranger to Tricaster, a foreigner with no friends in the village and few useful skills. She took up residence in an abandoned hovel near the edge of the wood, where she spent her days foraging for food and caring as best she could for her two infant sons. Sometimes she would venture into the village to trade for essential supplies, using things she had found or made; charcoal, rabbit skins, rare herbs, coloured birds eggs, beads made of seed-pods. At these times astute villagers may have noticed that the woman was young and quite pretty under her ragged garments, years of unwashed grime, and timid, almost animalistic demeanor - but few would have. Someone did though, for two years after her arrival, Tain, was with child again. None could say for certain who the father was, and Tain never told (although gossip in the village put the father as Risper the horse-trader, he of several children and many rumoured bastards). She called her son Daetha.
Hmmm ... re-reading French Wolf's instructions I think he is going to come up with the abilities we need to train in to achieve our desired classes. If so, disregard the above!
Very quick update: Going for Ranger:
That on the right track FW?
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