GM RelicBlackOUT's - Reign of Winter (Inactive)

Game Master RelicBlackOUT

NG Village
Government: Council
Population: 171 (152 Humans, 6 dwarves, 5 halflings, 4 gnomes, 3 elves, 1 half-elf)

Notable NPCs
Councilor Ionnia Teppen – middle-aged female human
Elder Natharen Safender – male half-elf
Soothsayer Old Mother Theodora – female human

Map Locations:
1-Armory
2-Isker’s Smithy – Isker Euphram middle-aged male human. Daughter, Xanthippe, works as his apprentice
3-General Store – Vivialla Steranus female human
4-Town Hall
5-Willowbark Apothecary – Tessaraea Willowbark female elf
6-Barber – Argus Goldtooth male dwarf
7-The Silver Stoat – Menander Garimos male human, Kale Garimos female human husband & wife.
8-Livery Stable – Sophia Imirras
9-Town Square – Statue in the middle is called “The Lady.” Some believe it represents the founder of Heldren
10-Ionnia Teppen’s House
11-Temple of Erastil – Elder Natharen Safander & wife Zaarida female human
12-Carpenter – Tengezil Frimbocket male gnome
13-Heldren Sawmill – Business partners Alexius Demetri male human & Lycio Vallant male human
14-The Butcher of Jalrune – Perkin Tarimm male halfling
15- Old Mother Theodora

Race/Class: See above book list.

Alternate Class/Racial Abilities: Let’s just keep them as written.

Favorite Class: HP, Skill, and Class Bonus

Traits: 2 Traits (1 RoW Campaign & 1 Other) or 1 Bonus Feat.

The one thing I do not like about the RoW campaign traits is that 5 of the 7 traits have you tied to the winter witches, yet for the most part they want you starting in Heldren which is roughly 2100 miles away from the homeland of the witches. Just for a mental image, that is just a bit longer than driving from Chicago to Los Angeles… But, here we are.

Stats: 15 Point Buy

Starting Wealth: Max Class Gold

Background Skills: None

Hit Points: Max at 1st, Rolled Beyond.

Alignment: I am open to any alignment except for Chaotic Evil. Just know that this is a team game and needs to be fun for everyone. Some of my favorite X-Men stories are when Magneto is one of the good guys.

Background: This isn’t a video game. Help your character come to life by fleshing them out. Do they have weird habits, quirks, have a pet, ritual before setting out on a journey, not able to eat lamb because you had a lamb you loved and your parents had to kill it to eat one extra cold winter, etc. The options are endless, have fun!

Communication: As we all know this is a game and life happens (see about me). We need to keep an open line for communication. If something comes up, please make a post in the discussion, or communicate to the group via Discord. I will have a Discord server up where we will be able to easily communicate with one another.

Posting: Most of my postings will be morning times before work or in the evenings after the kids in bed. I will post 1 – 2 times a day to help story flow and progress scenes and combat. My ask here is that you post once at a minimum. If you post more than once, be sure to give the rest of the party an opportunity to post before your second posting.

RP Posting: This isn’t a video game, so be sure to flesh out your character and really dive in. The more you get into your character, the more fun you will have, and the more it will encourage the rest of the table to do the same.

Combat Posting: When doing an spell, spell like ability, supernatural ability, etc… that has a save to see if its effect happens, go ahead and spoiler roll the damage delt or rounds that the effect will take place. When readying an action, go ahead and roll attack/damage in a spoiler box and if/when readied action goes off I’ll look then.

Social Skills: Skills like Appraise, Bluff, Diplomacy, Handle Animal, Intimidate, and Sense Motive I prefer to roll in my GM box. This helps keep a large gap between player & character knowledge. If this is a make or break thing for you, please reach out privately and we will discuss it.

The elephant in the room: But Clint – I looked at your profile and it looks like you ghosted tables 4 +/- years ago, why would we trust you and invest in your game. That is an excellent question. Life happened and I thought my father was going to die. He had heart surgery and a season of recover, but thankfully is still around today. Thank God.

I did not handle that situation well. If you’re reading this and you were at one of my tables, or I was at yours, I apologize. When I logged back on, I felt embarrassed and shame because I was one of those GMs who ghosted and just left the PBP community for several years.

I have moved since then and while unpacking a few things I came across the RoW adventure and felt the urge to run the game. Having just moved and knowing no one here, I have returned to the boards to apologize and hope that I can be given a second chance. Please, take a chance on me.

I'm happy to hear your father's doing well. Here's hoping that continues for many more years to come. :)

Female Human Arctic Druid (1)
Alignment: NG
Age: 19
Size: Medium (5'8")
Weight: 130 lbs
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Deity: Green Faith
Init +2 (+3 AN); Perception +7
Favored class: Druid (+1 HP)
Languages: Skald, Common, Druidic, Sylvan

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DEFENSE
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AC 15, touch 13, flat-footed 12 (+2 Armor, +2 Dex, +1 Dodge Feat)
HP: 9 (1d8+1 Favored Class)
Fort: +3 (+1 Northern Ancestry Trait)
Ref +2
Will: +6

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OFFENSE
-----------
Spd: 30 feet
Melee:
Spear (+0/1d8/x3/20 ft)

Ranged:
Sling (+2/1d4/x2/ 50 ft)
20 Bullets

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Equipment and Money
---------------------------

Starting Money: 120 GP
Combat gear:
Defense: Leather Armor
Offense: Spear, Sling, Bullets.

Other possessions: Flint and Steel , Signal Whistle, Spell component pouch, Ink (vial), Outfit (cold weather), Bedroll, Trail rations (2), Honey, Spell Component Pouch, Torch (2), Small Tent, Scrolls (2), Travelling Spellbook

Spare Money:
PP: 0
GP: 14
SP: 8
CP: 8
Other valuable:
Carried Weight: 79,5 lbs (Heavy Load)

Encumbrance:
0-33 lbs: Light Load
34-66 lbs: Medium Load
67-100 lbs: Heavy Load

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Statistics:
-------------
Str 10 Dex 14 Con 10 Int 12 Wis 16 (+2 Racial Bonus) Cha 13
Base Attack: +0; CMB : +0; CMD: 13

Feats:
Light Armor Proficiency (except metal armor)
Medium Armor Proficiency (except metal armor)
Naturebond (animal companion)
Nature sense (+2 Knowledge (Nature) and Survival checks)
Wild empathy (can improve an animal's attitude)
Orisons
Dodge (+1 AC)
Scribe Scrolls

Special Capacities:

Bonus Feat: Humans select one extra feat at 1st level.

Skilled: Humans gain an additional skill rank at first level and one additional rank whenever they gain a level.

Favorite Class (Druid): Add a +1/2 bonus on Diplomacy and Intimidate checks to change a creature’s attitude.

Traits:
Northern Ancestry: One of your parents came from the North, and the tales of the frozen lands at the top of the world that you grew up listening to excited your imagination. Alternatively, maybe one of your ancestors passed on the blood of some frost-rimed creature. You feel most alive during the chill of winter, and as a child, you spent hours playing in the snow. You rarely feel the cold, and you’ve always had a restless longing to travel north. You gain a +1 trait bonus on Fortitude saves, as well as cold resistance 2; this resistance does not stack with cold resistance gained from any other source.'

Caretaker: As the child of an herbalist or an assistant in a temple infirmary, you often had to assist in tending to the sick and wounded. You gain a +1 trait bonus on Heal checks, and Heal is always a class skill for you.

Skills: 6 (Base 4/ +1 Int/ +1 Racial Bonus)
Handle Animal: +5
Heal: +8 (+1 Caretaker Trait)
Knowledge (nature): +7 (+2 Nature Sense)
Perception: +7
Profession (herbalist): +7
Survival: +9

Languages (4): Skald, Common, Druidic, Sylvan

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Spells:
----------
Spells per day:
0: At will (Orisons)
1: 2 (Base: 1 + 1 Wisdom)

Prepared Spells:
0: (DC 14)
Spark
Detect magic
Guidance

1: (DC 15)
Magic Fang
Cure Light Wounds

Skills: (2)
Intimidate: +2 (Rank 1, Class skill 3, Cha -2)
Perception: +5 (Rank 1, Class skill 3, Wis 1)

Feat:
Light Armor Proficiency

Gear: Studded Leather Armor (20 gp)
Tricks: (7) [6 (Int:2) + 1 (Bonus Trick)]
Attack, Defend, Down, Heel, Seek, Track

Bonus trick: Attack

Special Capacities:
Low light Vision
Scent
Link (+4 Handle Animal checks)
Share Spells

Other equipment: cold weather outfit (animal companion)

When they decide to start a family, most couples settle down in a cozy little nest, protected by relatives and friends. But like migratory birds, Joakim and Ranna Hagebak were always on the move, as Joakim’s job as a shipmate prevented them from staying in one place for more than a few months. Linge spent her early childhood watching the waves, feeding seagulls, and quietly listening to her mother’s soothing lullabies at nights, undisturbed by the other sailors who rarely joined in her games. Unfortunately, her parents’ marriage crumbled when she was twelve, as Ranna was obsessed with continuing their journey further down South. After one too many a row, Joakim went out for a drink in Oppara, never to come back. Ranna and her daughter were back on the road.

The following years were especially lonely. Despite Ranna’s job as a healer, people had always been distrustful of the tall, somber-looking woman whose eyes were of an icy blue, and whose strange, foreign accent had never completely left. There was sorcellery in her skills and pagan jewellery, callousness in her detached attitude. Rumours had it that she was a witch or a werewolf, and Linge found more comfort and kindness in the company of dogs, cats and chickens than of children her own age. To her great shame, she even started to become wary of Ranna’s silence and secrets, her inexplicable aversion to cold which could leave her in a state of extreme apathy during winter. Joakim’s stories about kings defeating dragon-like creatures to earn their crown were epic and rarely scary. Ranna’s dark, twisted fairy tales about little girls running away from swarms of living doll in a land of ice and marrying princes from other countries to live in an eternal summer were as fascinating as they were morbid. While taking care of crops, beasts and people, benefitting from her mother’s teaching, Linge secretly and guiltily dreamed of leaving her behind.

It all changed, however, when mother and daughter reached the small village of Heldren, where no one batted an eye at the stern-looking, foreign woman and her skittish daughter. There was always room left for those who could heal a broken arm, sew a gash or deliver a baby. Old Mother Theodora wasn't as quick on her feet as she used to be, and the villagers welcomed all the help they could get, even coming from immigrants who kept to themselves and didn't like to answer questions.

Suddenly and surprisingly, Ranna finally seemed to settle down for good, and the tensions between her and Linge progressively eased. The young woman managed to get a job as an assistant to the apothecary, only helping out her mother with the more difficult births. Despite the odd looks she was still getting from the villagers, she no longer heard any comments on her "evil" witchcraft. In the Border Woods, she found a peaceful, quiet natural space that she loved to explore -and when, one day, she returned home with a famished, orphaned white bear cub in her arms and a guilty look on her face, her mother only chuckled.

Then, not even three years after their arrival, Ranna’s health started to decline. No longer capable of preparing basic medicine, forgetting meals on the stove and subjected to delirium, she was bedridden. An unexpectedly cold winter only made matters worse, and her sanity slipped further away. Not only did she constantly complain about being cold, and kept the curtains of her room permanently closed, she also started to refer to Linge as ‘little sister', screaming at her to go away one moment, and begging for her forgiveness the next. From what little Linge could gather from her mother’s nonsensical claims, she understood that she was under the strange delusion that Linge was a doll sent to kill her, and that Ranna was scared to death of seeing her appearing at the window. On an exceptionally cold night, her delirious rambles lasted for several hours, until she took Linge’s hand in her own, apologising about letting her ‘wander off’, and asking her ‘why she had to do that to Mom and Dad’ who ‘looked for her everywhere’, before breaking into heartwrenching sobs. She was buried in the forest before the first snowflakes. In Linge’s room, the curtains remained closed for a full week.

Baby, baby, rock-a-bye
Baby, baby, rock-a-bye
On the edge you mustn’t lie
Or the little grey wolf will come
And will nip you on the tum,
And will nip you on the tum
Tug you off into the wood
Underneath the willow-root.

Since her arrival in Heldren, Linge prefers wearing ample, practical clothes, which usually include heavy boots and, more and more often, a pair of pants, with a fondness for the colour green. In true Ulfen tradition, she likes sophisticated hairstyles, which she adorns with her mother’s brooches. Fully bilingual, she nevertheless speaks Taldane with an distinct accent. Her Skald, on the other hand, would strike most native Ulfens as a bit weird. Unbeknownst to her, she speaks like most inhabitants of Irrisen, but with a twinge of inflections and slang words from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings, where Joakim Hagebak was born and raised.

Strength: Same modifier as a Grig or Monstrous Centipede, Knocked off balance by swinging something dense.
Dexterity: Same modifier as a Hungry Fog, Visible paralysis or physical difficulty.
Constitution: Only undead has this low of Con. Bruises very easily, knocked out by a light punch
Intelligence: Same modifier as a Otyugh, griffon, displacer beast. Can speak but is apt to react instinctively and impulsively, sometimes resorts to charades to express thoughts.
Wisdom: Same modifier as a Giant maggot, bogwid. Seemingly incapable of planning
Charisma: Same modifier as a Dire rat, weasel, chuul, donkey. Has no awareness of the needs of others, almost no sense of empathy

Only a few know he's from Irresin.
Even fewer know he has a twin sister named Krigne out there somewhere.
Almost none of them know that, like Krigne, he was tutored by a Winter Witch named "Elder Jayla"
And absolutely no one even suspects that, Krigne, his own sister, sought to kill him as a sacrifice and sign of loyalty under Jayla's orders when he failed at his winter lessons.

"He reeks of summer" Jayla had declared, "Slay him feed the winter."

The echo of that sentence still haunts Krokod, but not nearly as much as the hunger for power that was in his sister's eyes as she drew the ritual dagger while he lay bound.

It was in that moment of panic that he cast his first successful cantrip on a decanter of highly combustible oils. Elder Jayla and Krigne were too busy putting the fire out to see a heartbroken boy make his way free.

And Krokod kept running as far south as he could go.
There are no Winter Witches here in Taldor, and Krokod is happy for it.

Charisma measures a character’s personality, personal magnetism, ability to lead, and appearance.

There's four different components to Charisma as described here, though you could say that personal magnetism is part of a person's personality, and only one of them touches on anything like empathy in my opinion, the ability to lead. So according to this, a low-charisma character could be someone without much of a personality, or at least on that sticks in people's minds, someone without much in the way of personal magnetism, someone without the ability to lead others, or someone who is just plain ugly. While a low charisma character can be a boorish, abrasive person with little in the way of empathy or other leadership qualities, you could also make the case that a low charisma character can be someone who blends into the background, isn't really noticed by anyone, and lacks the confidence and force of personality to exert their will onto a situation.

So, the way I was planning on playing low charisma is to have a character that isn't mean or unpleasant to be around but is a wallflower that fades into the background and is cripplingly shy. They don't have the self-confidence to initiate connections and keep interactions as short as possible. They lack the self-esteem to think of themselves as valuable beyond what they can do, and have convinced themselves that they aren't worth the trouble. Basically, they do their best to stay out of sight and out of mind to avoid trouble and keep to themselves as much as possible. They aren't comfortable interacting with other people. especially strangers, and can come off as odd and even off-putting.

I know that integrating that kind of character into a party can be like pulling teeth with rusty pliers, so if my character was picked, I was going to work with the other players to get some of those connections built in and give my character a reason to join with them and stick around. I couldn't tell you what those connections would be beyond some vague, half-formed ideas, but I'm confident that I can come up with something. I'm also open to suggestions from other players if they have ideas about how our characters would have gotten past my character's shortcomings and formed a bond.

So the short of it is that the way I'm planning on playing a low-charisma character is by making them shy and have a low self-worth or self-esteem if you will. It's a different take and one that I think avoids some of the pitfalls of playing a low-charisma character in a game where cooperation is key component. Admittedly, it brings in new ones, but I'm hoping to mitigate those by building some bonds before the game starts.

This is totally cool. The only thing is that I see someone who is shy or having low self-worth/esteem not as a -3 modifier. Working with people, that is realistically more of a -1. With the right equipping, training, and encouraging you can really help a person break out of that shell.

If shy and low self-worth/esteem is what you are going for then I would take a look at what the SRD says about each modifier breakdown and see if a 5 Cha is really where the character would be.

SRD Breakdown
4–5, –3 modifier. Has no awareness of the needs of others, almost no sense of empathy
6–7, –2 modifier. Uninteresting, rude, boorish, and generally unpleasant to be around
8–9 –1 modifier. Something of a bore or makes people mildly uncomfortable
10–11 +0 modifier. Understands most conventions of social interactions and acts relatively acceptably in social circumstances

EDIT: After stewing on this for a minute. I realize my reply here may come off as petulant. I want to make it perfectly clear that while I disagree with the SRD, I'm still interested in applying and there's no hard feelings. I just won't be applying with that character.

The third looked around, wondering and fearing what doom would befall him. He swallowed and approached the babe. She slept as peacefully as if the shrieks of the first woodsman were an elven lullaby. With trembling hands he picked her up. With trembling steps he made his way back to Heldren. With a trembling voice he told the local priest where he'd found the babe and what had happened as he handed her over. He was found the next morning with his head on a spear made entirely of wood. Her founding had cursed three men to die. A babe born of a curse and an epithet that would follow her the rest of her life.

Mia did not spend long in the care of the local church to Erastil, an old hermit who'd moved into an abandoned watchtower nearby came and adopted the curse-born babe. He gave her a name and spent the next few years weaning her. A cantankerous, old man, the hermit often berated Mia, throwing the epithet Curseborn at her whenever she proved too slow or emotional or anything more than a doll that did his bidding perfectly and without question.

Once she had learned the basics of reading and writing, he began to prepare her for the true purpose he had for her. The hermit, a wizard obsessed with the First World and the eternal youth of the fey, trained her to be his bodyguard and probed deep into her mind to learn what secrets she could reveal about the fey. His meddling nearly broke her mind for good. He hardly cared and was positively giddy when Mia began to speak in Aklo, the tongue of the darker fey, after one of his sessions searching through her memories and thoughts.

Between his delves into her mind, he taught her of the arcane arts, how to cast spells and see the patterns in magic. At first she enjoyed the lessons, but slowly came to hate them as the hermit pushed her harder and harder. He was growing older, and he felt time slipping past.

She was twelve when he went too far. She'd failed in a lesson, a difficult lesson even masters of the arcane could struggle with. The hermit went past words and beat her. As she lay on the floor, bloodied and bruised, after the old man had gone to bed, she snapped. My, he would look amusing choking on his own blood with a second smile under his beard, she thought. She got to her feet and grinned wickedly as she went to where the weapons she'd been trained in hung.

The hermit woke unable to breath. His voice was a blood-filled gurgle as he tried to beg for his life as the mis-matched-eyed fey grinned at him from her perch by his bed. His pleas fell on deaf ears.

Mia came to her senses as the light left the hermit's eyes forever. She looked at the blood on her hands as horror filled her. She dropped the dagger and ran from the hermit's tower. The night was cold, and snow fell thickly as she ran away from what she'd done.

Varisians on their way to Heldren found her, miraculously alive the next morning. She clutched a satchel she had left back in the hermit's tower, the one that had her spell book and components in it. The Varisians brought her into one of their vardos and got her out of the cold, wet clothes she wore so they could warm her up.

They arrived in Heldren the next day, the snow slowing their progress. Mia slept until they were moving again the next morning. Distraught and ashamed of what she had done, Mia confessed to the wise woman, telling her everything that had happened. The wise woman comforted Mia, soothing the girl's broken mind and heart.

Winter set in fully after the caravan reached Heldren. With the snows so deep and the next town on their route more than a few days away in good weather, the caravan master decided to wait for the spring. During those months, the wise woman taught Mia about Desna and the stars as she helped the girl put her mind back together. It was a hard road, but in the end, Mia did feel better, more whole, than she ever had while with the hermit.

Still, she felt something like panic at the thought of leaving with the caravan when spring came. The wise woman understood and gave Mia a carving of Desna's symbol her grandson had done. The caravan master, at the wise woman's request, called in some favors to find Mia a place to stay and work to help her keep it and feed herself. Mia thanked the caravan master and the wise woman for their help when she said her goodbyes to the caravan.

Over the next few years Mia grew interested in and learned a number of crafts, from leatherworking to smithing to bowery. None of the craftsmen in Heldren were looking for a full apprentice, but were happy for the help Mia offered. The coin was enough to keep a roof over her head and food in her belly.

The last year, however, have seen things turn strange for Mia. Odd figures following her home at night, haunting whispers in her dreams, and strange things appearing in the flames about her have her worried she is going mad. Despite how it makes her skin crawl, she has been preparing spells, something she had not done since killing the hermit, in case she needs them. Memories of the madness that took over that night almost five years ago have her worried that she'll kill someone again, and that this time, she won't come back from the madness.

She's a short (5' 1"), slender (95 lbs.) woman with dark hair and pale, almost translucent, skin. Her eyes are mismatched, one green and the other blue. Despite her seeming fragility, she's uncannily strong and tough.

Lumivartalvae was unique in the fact that instead of being brought up in the typical faith of Findeladlara like most of her kin, instead, her parents and their immediate family worshiped the Storm Giant pantheon, chief amongst them being Skode, the Horizon Huntress. Their clan acted as hunters and trackers, finding the calling of hunting beasts to be a holy calling. On top that, their clan also protected the family from the darker beings who stalked the Crown of the World.

At the age of adulthood, 100 years old, Lumivartalvae yearned to travel the world and to collect trophies of her hunts, all for the honor of Skode. Before leaving, she did one last hunt in the Crown of the World... and that hunt happened to be against a beastly polar bear. Over a course of several days, the two of them were well aware of each other, facing off, losing one another, all culminating in a battle where both were wounded. However, only the bear fell to their wounds. Arriving back to her tribe wearing it's fur as a cloak, Lumivartalvae was finally given permission to travel south on her quest.

Over the course of 20 years, her roving took her through Mendev along the lake of Mists and Veils, then along the wild plains of Numeria. Next it was a voyage down the various rivers of the River Kingdoms, and then finally to the coast of the Innersea arriving to the city of Cassomir in Taldor. Lumivartalvae had accrued a fair number of furs and natural trade goods to peddle, and used the time time in this city to refit and begin to rove again. This roving would now send her east, past the capital city of Oppara and stopping through the small village of Heldren as a stopping point, ultimately wanting to next hunt the beasts native to Kelesh.

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Defense
--------------------
AC 18, Touch 13, Flat-Footed 15 (+5 armor, +3 dex)
HP 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +3; Ref +3, Will +4, +1 trait bonus vs spells, SLAs, and SU abilities of evil arcane spellcasters
--------------------
Offense
--------------------
Speed 30 ft. 20 ft. in armor
Melee spear +1 (1d8+1/x3) or cold iron sickle +1 (1d6+1/x2)
Ranged longbow +3 (1d8/x3)
Special Attacks judgment (1/day)
Inquisitor Spells Known (CL 1st, concentration +3)
1st (2/day)–bane, divine favor
0 (at will)–acid splash, create water, light, read magic
Inquisition Heresy
--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 13, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 8, Wis 15, Cha 10
Base Atk +0; CMB +1; CMD 14
Feats Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot
Skills knowledge(nature) [1] +4, perception [1] +6, sense motive [1] +7, spellcraft [1] +4, stealth [1] +7, survival [1] +6
Languages common
Traits :
Campaign: Warded Against Witchery
Race: Deadeye Bowman
SQ righteous infiltration, skilled, stern gaze, strong-willed
Favored Class +1 hp
Combat Gear acid flask (2), arrows (20), dye arrow (5)
Other Gear longbow, spear, cold iron sickle, scale mail, explorer’s outfit, masterwork backpack, bedroll, flint and steel, burner, fuel pellets (10), mess kit, trail rations (5), waterskin, silk rope, compass, cheap copy of Parables of Erastil, wooden holy symbol of Erastil, spell component pouch, belt pouch containing 60 gp 9 sp
Encumberance: Medium load due to armor 55 lbs carried

The boy took a deep breath and eased his shoulders.

“Good, good,” Kessir said. “Now, don’t rush it. Take your time. These are just targets so there’s no time limit on aiming.” Kessir took a step back and watched the target at the other end of the field. After a few seconds, he glanced back at the student then to the target again. A few more seconds passed and the boy released the tension in the bow and lowered it to the ground.

“My shoulders and back got tired!” The boy complained.

“Well, yeah. I said take your time not wait all day. At some point you need to loose the arrow.” Kessir chuckled and a couple of the other students joined in.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

Kessir put one hand up to quiet the group and knelt in front of the boy with the bow. “We’re not laughing at you-

“I am!” One of the girls, Sera, said.

“Okay, Sera is laughing at you. But the rest of us aren’t,” Kessir said. He held his hand out for the bow and the boy gave it over reluctantly. “Laughing helps you relax. It can release tension. In fact, if a baby is fighting sleep, you can help it by getting the baby to laugh.” Kessir tickled the boy’s ear with the fletching of the arrow. “When we laugh, it tells our mind that we’re safe, that we can be still.”

Kessir stood and let out a deep belly laugh before aiming the bow and arrow at the target. He drew the string back and loosed the arrow hitting one of the outer rings.

The boy scrunched up his face. “It didn’t help you all that much.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the best archer in Heldren,” Kessir replied.

“So, then why are you our teacher?” the bour asked.

Kessir grinned and narrowed his eyes at the boy, “Because, you toad, I understand the how and why of archery. I can teach you the fundamentals and then, if you want to pursue it further, you can do so with a more technical teacher. I’m just here to help make sure our little village can survive.”

“Can’t a spear or a sword do the same thing?” the boy asked.

Kessir bobbed his head side-to-side. “Yes and no. What I mean is, they can definitely get the job done. But,” he held a finger up, “there are things out there that you just don’t want to get close to.” Kessir gestured to the other end of the field. “Sera! Since you seem to be nice and relaxed from that good laugh, how’s ‘bout you go fetch that arrow and come show us what you can do, eh?”
—-----------------------------------
That evening, as Kessir swept the last stones in the entryway to Erastil’s Temple, he found himself reliving the last day he had gone hunting with his parents. His father, Thomane, had been regarded as the best archer in Heldren and his mother, Seshka, had been an unparalleled tracker.

The trio had been following the tracks of a large boar deep within the Border Wood and the sun was getting low. The little light that could make it through the canopy caused shadows to stretch, hiding roots and brambles.

“We should head back,” his mother had said. “This far in isn’t safe at night.”

“Just a few more minutes. You said it yourself: ‘the boar must be close.’” Thomane replied. “And look! There!” He pointed to a moving mass of brown fur in a clearing. ”Kessir. Ready your bow. This is your hunt, son.”

Kessir, barely seventeen, nodded quickly. He crept forward to join his father and raised his bow.

“Relax. Relax,” Thomane said. “Remember, the bowstring should be tight, not you.”

Seshka appeared next to them. “Something isn’t right. The forest is too quiet.”

Thomane looked up at the trees. “You’re right. Something-”

“M-Mom. Dad.” Kessir stammered. “I think I wanna go home.”

As his parents turned to see what had frightened Kessir, the boar rose up on its hind legs. The fur and flesh melted away, sloughing to the muddy ground, to reveal a sickly-green crone with knotted hair. She stepped from the pile of gore and flesh with one hand held out in the direction of the hunters. In the dim light, Kessir could see the hag’s mouth move and a few moments later, a rasping voice spoke as if coming from the tree beside the family.

“Ohhhh. But you are hoooome, dear. You’re in my hoooome.”

The thwang of his father’s bowstring snapped Kessir back to reality. Seshka grabbed Kessir by the shoulders and shoved him back the way they had come. “Run! Run and don’t stop until you are back in Heldren!”

Kessir stumbled over a loose rock. He crawled backwards as his father loosed two more arrows at the creature. Kessir scrambled to his feet. His mother had pulled twin short swords from their scabbards. In the fading light, Kessir could just make out the tears streaming down his mother’s face.

“Go!” She screamed.

And he did.