Duilin's page

Instead, he found delight in the highlands and forests outside the crumbling walls of the estate. Cuneo always loved to wander in the woods, especially on stormy days, when the sound of rain on the leaves above filled the forest with roaring noise, and thunder could be felt far off on the mountaintop. Lurking then beneath the dense canopy, watching those at the castle whose attention was fixated on the wind and the rain, he felt safe. Then he could laugh without fear that he would be heard, and could behold the majesty and wrath of the heavens undisturbed.

Though his father payed little attention to Cuneo, it was arranged that he would receive training befitting a Donealian noble. He received instruction in grammar, spelling, and mathematics, although he found it difficult to concentrate on these subjects, mind wandering to distant trees and old forgotten pathways. He was trained, too, in archery and in swordplay, for which he showed a great propensity and love. It seemed that so long as his body was in motion, Cuneo was satisfied to focus on nothing but his immediate surroundings and the challenges he had to overcome.

As he grew older, Cuneo began to spend much time with an aged herbalist of tenuous family connection. Here too, he showed talent, categorizing and sorting plants patiently and precisely, and watching intently as tonics and tinctures were prepared. The old man would bandage wounded returning from fearsome forays and Cuneo would watch with wide eyes. He always showed a keen interest in matters of life and death.
When Cuneo was thirteen, the herbalist began to speak of moving away from the castle, to serve under a different lord. The man was thinking of Cuneo, wishing to bring the boy with him and rid him of his father’s influence. His father thought it a fine idea, hardly wishing them well as they set out on the old road that led away from the castle.

As they traveled through the countryside, Cuneo saw firsthand the horrors of long and bloody fighting. He had heard about the plight of his countrymen from tutors and teachers, but payed it little mind, content instead to think on crimson sunsets and rain in the forest. Now, as starving villages pulled their dead from bleak fields to salvage what few crops had survived the burning, Cuneo understood what true suffering meant. Twice they had to hide in the undergrowth beside the road as troops of soldiers passed by. It didn’t matter whose side they were on, they were rough men and the herbalist would not risk something bad happening to Cuneo.

Finally, after two weeks of travel, they arrived at their destination, another castle, this one nearer to the bloody border. Kneeling before the lord, they placed themselves under his service. Together, they set bones and sawed off limbs, preparing potions and picking herbs when there were none to care for. Cuneo found he missed the little woods of his childhood home, and the view from atop the mountain. He could not wander alone in a place as dangerous as this, and it never rained when they went out.

Instead, he focused on those other things which had kept him occupied, archery, swordplay, the toughening of his body and of his mind. Though there was no one to tutor him at his young age, he still remembered the drills he had been given, and executed them ceaselessly. By the time he was fifteen, he was able to bend the heaviest of hunting bows, and to drill his footwork for hours at a time. The soldiers and guards sparred with him regularly, and he found great delight in learning from them. So long as his limbs were sore and his breathing sharp he felt he was becoming better, preparing for the day when he could venture beyond the walls of the castle and shepherd those who could not defend themselves through their valley of darkness.

When he was sixteen, he was given arms and made a soldier of Doneal. Now he was the one to tramp noisily through the roads, and the one who everyone feared. But soon they were beneath the northern forests, and all was forgotten save the ceaseless warfare against the orcs. Many wounds were suffered, and much blood was shed beneath the broken boughs. Cuneo felt companionship, the soldiers far better than his real brother at making him feel safe and strong. This life lasted until he was twenty one.

At that he fell on the field of battle and was nearly killed. The other soldiers had saved him, but he was grievously wounded, and his life hung in the balance for several days as they marched back to the castle to lick their wounds. It was only when they arrived and the grey haired herbalist of his youth began to tend to him that his condition improved, and he began a long and slow recovery. By the time he had recovered from his wounds those soldiers who could had already ventured north once again, the orcs not waiting for them to recover. Cuneo found that, though his wounds were healed and his life saved, his old strength was gone. He strained his weakened body as often as he could, but it would be a long time before he could shoot a warbow again.

Feeling then weak and alone without the brothers he had made on the battlefield, Cuneo spent much of his time with the herbalist who was more of a father to him than his real father ever had been. But now the old man was bent and wizened, and could only shuffle about his patient’s bedsides, old wrinkled hands shaking as he changed their bandages. Then he began to cough, and it was not long before it was he who lay on the bed while Cuneo administered herbal teas and old forgotten remedies. It was to no avail, the old man died in his bed, leaving Cuneo tearful and isolated.

Feeling grief, despair, and anger, Cuneo returned at last to his childhood home, where he found his father and brother, still struggling to maintain their slipping grip on the mountainside. He thought perhaps the old woods and paths he had found in his youth would do him some good, and that he could again climb to the mountaintop and gaze across the lands below. Another, more sinister motivation lay beneath his journey, which he came to realize as he walked again across the countryside. Perhaps, he thought, if he could confront his father and learn why the man had always treated him like was worthless, perhaps then he could renounce the man and move on. Perhaps then he could learn to love himself now that the only man who had ever shown him unconditional love was dead.

He arrived during a feast, marching in through the front doors and taking a seat beside his father. The man was old, now, and his greying beard reminded Cuneo of the herbalist, though they could not have held more different places in his life. They spoke for some time, his father unapologetic about his loveless treatment of Cuneo. That was the hard reality of the world, he said. Like his fortunes, his love was finite, and had to be portioned in careful measure. Quaffing his wine, Cuneo left, sleeping on the hard ground outside the castle walls, which had become more comforting to him than a soft bed. He took comfort in the thought that there was nothing for him here. Though there were still soldiers he would have liked to see, his brothers in blood, but he knew that he did not need them. Lying beneath an ancient tree, rain beginning to fall softly, Cuneo knew that, above all, he needed nothing from anyone to survive. His hand rested easily on the hilt of his sword as he fell asleep.

The morning sun rose on a castle in turmoil. His father had been found stabbed to death in his bed, window shattered, a note signed with Cuneo’s name on the pillow beside him. His brother now in control of the family estate, the guards left in search of Cuneo, and found him, unaware of what happened, on the road towards the castle gates. Their captain took pity on Cuneo and told him to run, run through the woods he knew so well, run far beyond the end of the mountain, and run till the borders of Doneal were long behind him. Then he marched onward, his troop averting their eyes and following their captain’s lead.

Within a few weeks Cuneo was in Chadreal, his childhood home behind him, his old life in the northern forests a dim memory. With money he had saved from his exploits against the orcs, Cuneo was able to rent a room in a small from an old couple. For a month he relaxed, staying up late to tell the stories of his scars with their daughter, who listened with eager ears. Like many of the folk from that land, her past was simpler and brighter, her life more full of love. Like many who have a long and hard past, Cuneo kept himself emotionally distant and reserved.

After a month of soft hills and small forests, Cuneo found himself utterly bored. There were few matters of life and death here, and few things which held his interest. He found that he had less motivation to go and shoot his bow, and that when he drilled with his sword people looked at him strangely. Bidding the old couple and their daughter goodbye, Cuneo went south once again, all the way to the coast and over the sea, going far away to strange lands in search of something he could not find in this land of peace and plenty.

Across the rocking waves of the Sea of Stones, Cuneo arrived in a small city towards the western edge of the Belshiran Federation. There he heard tales and stories of the Vurkane forest, the many whispers and rumors surrounding its trackless interior stirring him like a wounded man stirs a healer. He found three likeminded souls in a tavern beneath a gibbous moon, and together they discussed plans and intentions. Allustan was in search of magical sources of power. Borris wanted to test himself and prove his might. But it was Arodel whose mind was most like Cuneo’s. Arodel had come from a wealthy family and had been well looked after, he had no need of money or of power, or anything else that could be found in the Vurkane forest. Arodel, like Cuneo, was in search of a purpose. Some men are like dogs: they must find something to sink their teeth into.

For three years they wandered through still hollows and sun spattered groves, returning occasionally to the city to gather supplies and consult ponderous tomes. Cuneo found himself totally and completely engaged. His body hard like a steel spring, his eyes open and his breaths quiet and short, he could think of nothing but that which was around him. They quickly learned that they were in over their heads, and had to avoid many fell and terrible things which creept silently through the still leaves. It was strange for Cuneo, so used to being a predator, but exhilarating all the same. And he found comfort, as he had since youth, in the smooth boles and high crowns of many high and ancient trees. They were straighter and taller here, in the dense forest, crowding tightly against one another with no humans to cut them down.

Soon after returning from a trip to the city, Borris was killed. They had to wait till the creature was done feasting before they could salvage what was left of his carcass. His family would be waiting. When the thing finally left, only a few meagre bones remained, shredded flesh still hanging off them, skull missing the jawbone. They each kept a knuckle, and brought the rest back to the city.

It was then, on the journey back to lay his bones to rest, that each of their lives was changed forever. They had a small boat which they used to move quickly back and forth, and as they sailed back along the coastline they were attacked by pirates. Surrendering immediately, they were placed at the mercy of rough men who live dangerous lives. Cuneo and Arodel were clapped in irons and sent belowdecks, Allustan was killed and tossed overboard.

For a few weeks, life was hell. They rowed each day from before sunup until after sundown, and if they slowed they were whipped and then returned to labor. Salt water made it’s way into the ship pooled at their feet, making their skin peel after the first day. They were given a meagre ration of bread and rat meat, not quite enough to keep them from starving. Manacles chafing, boat rocking, drums pounding, there was no comfort and no hope.

Land was sighted on the sixteenth day, southeastern Golm. They had come to the shores of Iskendal with a cargo full of stolen goods, ready to deal with a people who had few allies and few alternatives. Then came thunder in the heavens, and raindrops falling hard and fast like daggers from the sky. The ship was tossed about like a child’s plaything, turning and spinning in the wind and froth, the sea rolling and boiling like a witch’s cauldron.

A red sun dawned over a battered ship and a broken crew. For a day they merely drifted, moving ever to the south through unknown waters. Another ship was spotted on the horizon, flying a strange flag of green and white. It sailed next to them and hooked up, elves in armor holding bows, pikes flashing in the sky. They fought on the decks till blood ran down the sides of the ship, but in the end, the pirates were victorious and the elves defeated.

There were now only a few crew members left, barely enough to maintain order over the slaves. There were whispers of mutiny, and of one who could pick the locks with a fishbone and his fingernails. Then disease struck, and the whole ship was laid low in agony and despair, unable even to limp to the shore. And then the locks were picked, and the manacles flew open, and righteous revenge was exacted.

Only twelve slaves survived out of a group of nearly fifty, and all the crew now slept beneath the waves. The ship’s riggings had been damaged in the storm, and they were too weak to row, so they drifted at the mercy of the currents. For nearly twenty days the boat rocked gently, their food now gone, their water running out. Then land was spotted.

They had arrived on the northern shores of Mirem, land of excess, at a busy harbor, ship still full of cargo. Cuneo was weak as a kitten, but he put on the erstwhile captain’s hat and did his best to sell their stolen wares. The storm had come and gone, and they were still alive.
After three months in the harbor, the ship was freshly painted, and a new crew had been recruited. Cuneo and Arodel had spent many nights talking, and had decided they would venture further south, to Durnauc, where they could patrol the waters outside Cathuili beside enterprising merchants. Cuneo found that the hot sun and dense jungles of southeastern Golm were very much not to his liking, and the Vurkane forest now a dim and distant memory. Perhaps, in time, they could return to those lands and venture once again into the still and ancient airs beneath the trees. But having listened to Borris scream as he was eaten, Cuneo had realized that the horrors of that land were far beyond what he could face down with sword in hand.

For two years they sailed the high seas, Cuneo at the helm, Arodel at his side. The salt spray and gentle rocking of the ship held their own appeal, as did the elegant office Cuneo constructed, collecting curios on their many journeys. Cuneo found a stark beauty in the endless expanse of the ocean, the sparkling waves endlessly rolling on towards shores and coves left far behind. But, in time, Cuneo began to realize that a mariner’s life was not for him. Arodel remained his only real friend during this time, and though they had many long nights on the shore, and kept one another sharp and strong, he was not enough. Cuneo felt it was time to retire.

It was then that they sailed farther south and east, towards the remoter portions of Durnauc. There were many ships full of gems and precious stones, and many pirates which preyed upon them. Cuneo preyed upon the pirates. After several weeks without any luck, they heard tale of a particularly large and slow ship which had filled it’s hold with the contents of many merchants before sailing northeast along the coast. Cuneo set off at once after them, following as fast as they could manage. Many strange lands and small settlements fell away behind them before, finally, in the cold north once again, the caught their prize. A large ship indeed, sailing near the shore, decks full of scoundrels.

It’s crew proved to be few in number and weak of spirit, weakened by disease and by casualties sustained acquiring their cargo. Cuneo’s lads boarded the ship, captured the captain, and imprisoned the crew. Now master of two ships, they sailed onward, arriving in Inzeldrab in time for Cuneo to celebrate his twenty seventh birthday.
Cuneo took to the shores and began to relax for the first time since his brief stay in Chadreal. Arodel was still with him, and they found it was nice not to have to stay sharp. For a time. Then Arodel sailed off again, leaving Cuneo on his own in an unfamiliar city. Cuneo had decided it was time for him to retire, already his knees were beginning to feel a little stiff, and his bear had flecks of grey. A lifetime of stress takes it’s toll on the body.

Cuneo began to wander again in northern forests, as he had not done since his youth. But now things were different. He had seen the world and found nothing for him in it. Cuneo had relied on himself, as he knew he had to do the moment his father told him he didn’t have the love to spare for him. He had had adventures and tribulations. He had fought for his life on three continents and in two oceans, but he still wasn’t sure what he had accomplished. Cuneo began to drink heavily.
It was at this time in his life that Cuneo met the woman who was to become his wife. Elaine saw something in the hard glint of his eyes and the strange way he glanced around the room before sitting down and approached him to learn his story. He was distant at first, then confused. Why would anyone want to pay attention to him? The only man who had ever loved him was dead, and his only lasting friend had left for the call of the sea. She told him to come by her shop around closing time. It was an apothecary.

There is something about healing another person that is of inherent worth. Elaine found that Cuneo needed her skills, and Cuneo found that Elaine needed his. They moved far away from the city, to a small fishing village, and loved each other greatly for many years. It was strange, to have a place in the world and to feel another person’s unconditional love. Strange and wonderful.

Soon after celebrating his thirty first birthday Cuneo came home to find Arodel on his doorstep. The man had fallen on hard times, his ship’s spine had snapped, most of his crew died, and he had barely survived. He was working for the Dragon now, and he wanted Cuneo’s help. Cuneo promised Elaine he would be gone two months and set out to the northern borders of Inzeldrab, prepared to kill giants and take a small castle near the border. Meeting up with other forces of the Dragon, the successfully completed their mission through a mix of subterfuge, deception, and brute force.

Cuneo returned home to find that tragedy had struck the one home he ever had. Elaine had traveled north, upstream, to help soothe the slaves of a large farming settlement there. On her way, however, she had been killed by Mantids. There was no corpse to be found, only a heedless sun which scorched the earth until it there was nothing but dust. Dust, that was what she had become.

Cuneo went north. He had to get away. There was nothing left for him anywhere anymore, he was a broken man with only a hard glint in his eyes and a rough strength in his arms. The dragon would have work for him, perhaps, work he could set his teeth into and struggle with. He kept his wedding ring with his knucklebone, cruel reminders of past lives now lost. Perhaps Cuneo could add one more chapter to his life before the rest of his beard turned grey.

Having no mother and a father and older sibling who never loved him, Cuneo has found that his life is much easier and more enjoyable when there are people who love him. The Herbalist, Arodel, and Elaine have all provided various degrees of love and support for Cuneo, and he hopes that, perhaps, he can find more people to fill this role in the future. Once he forms attachments, therefore, they are for life. However, Cuneo has always felt betrayed by his father and brother, and there are many dark patches in his past. He is therefore emotionally reserved and distant, forming bonds slowly and deliberately. Experiences are kept compartmentalized and discreet from one another, emotion felt, but kept distant from the things which cause it. Because of this, although Cuneo is emotionally distant and does not empathize with others easily, he likes talking with them about his past and learning about their stories. Further, he has learned that other people are often the most interesting things to learn about, and has found that people tend to like to talk about themselves.

Cuneo has spent his life training for something, but he’s not quite sure what. He’s been trying to stay strong and sharp, always trying to learn new things and increase his ever expanding skill set. As a result, Cuneo has become houndlike, always on the hunt, always looking for prey, never wondering why he’s doing what he’s doing, and never stopping to take a break. For a time, during his long marriage, he was able to relax and go about his business at a more leisurely rate, spending more time taking care of himself and less time taking care of business. But that’s behind him now, and he wants to get back on the merry go round.

Cuneo’s two principal motivations are his need for a family and his need for a purpose in life.

Having no mother and a father and older sibling who never loved him, Cuneo has found that his life is much easier and more enjoyable when there are people who love him. The Herbalist, Arodel, and Elaine have all provided various degrees of love and support for Cuneo, and he hopes that, perhaps, he can find more people to fill this role in the future. Once he forms attachments, therefore, they are for life. However, Cuneo has always felt betrayed by his father and brother, and there are many dark patches in his past. He is therefore emotionally reserved and distant, forming bonds slowly and deliberately. Experiences are kept compartmentalized and discreet from one another, emotion felt, but kept distant from the things which cause it. Because of this, although Cuneo is emotionally distant and does not empathize with others easily, he likes talking with them about his past and learning about their stories. Further, he has learned that other people are often the most interesting things to learn about, and has found that people tend to like to talk about themselves.

Cuneo has spent his life training for something, but he’s not quite sure what. He’s been trying to stay strong and sharp, always trying to learn new things and increase his ever expanding skill set. As a result, Cuneo has become houndlike, always on the hunt, always looking for prey, never wondering why he’s doing what he’s doing, and never stopping to take a break. For a time, during his long marriage, he was able to relax and go about his business at a more leisurely rate, spending more time taking care of himself and less time taking care of business. But that’s behind him now, and he wants to get back on the merry go round.

Cuneo’s large frame is slightly thinner than he’d like, his hair a little whiter, and his knees a little stiffer. Once, he was over two hundred pounds of muscle and blood packed onto a six foot frame, but now he’s lighter and sinewier, though perhaps it makes no difference to a casual observer. His nearly black hair is short on the sides and long on top, slightly curled bangs hanging over dark, faintly green eyes and thin, gaunt cheeks. Not so thin as they used to be, though. His scraggly, greying beard is really just a few day of growth needing to be shaved, but a shaving kit is heavy and unnecessary. His leather boots are supple and well worn, perhaps they should’ve been replaced a few years ago, just like his scabbard and his belt, which he wears slightly too loose. Perhaps he hasn’t realized just how much weight he’s lost, after all. Drab and dusty, he stands weary from a long road, but he stands straight backed and stoic regardless.

Yes, I had envisioned him as a ranger. I was trying not to be too concerned about that, though.

I don't know if you've ever done a sport competitively, but I have, and I know what that's like. Throughout a lot of high school I spent an average of more than ten hours a week training, plus competitions. Then I went to college, and they don't have my sport. It's was like there was this hole in my life that I couldn't fill. I started doing another sport, and that's been nice, although we don't go as hard as I would like. I think if I moved away again and they didn't have my sport where I ended up, I'd just take up another one.

Likewise, Cuneo has spent his whole life trying to stay sharp as a razor. From the age of sixteen he was a skirmisher in a dense forest against physically superior opponents, and even before that he was training. The only times when he wasn't trying to keep himself in peak physical condition and maintain his skills are a month he spent in Chadreal, which he ended because he was bored, and the time he spent after trying to retire. And his attempt at retirement was an absolute failure until he met his wife. So yes, I think he recognizes that if he tries to settle down there's going to be a hole in his life, and he identifies the dragon as the best way to get work.

I think that makes sense as a reason for why he needs a purpose with which to fill his life. I think he probably occasionally went out to the adventurer's lodge during the five years he spent with his wife, but mostly she was enough for him. I also think that makes sense. I should probably try to put that line of reasoning into the story more substantially. So we know he's not going to retire until he's old, and he's probably going to try to build a family before then.

It might make more sense for him to try to go on a personal quest of revenge against the Mantids for killing his wife, but that doesn't seem too likely. He didn't try to get revenge on his father or his brother, instead returning because he needed to resolve his own internal turmoil. I also envision him as slightly emotionally distant, which we see in the time he spent talking to the old couple's daughter in Chadreal. It's not even like this is the first time he's lost someone, since he watched the Herbalist die. Further, the Mantids are not intelligent, so he probably doesn't really blame them, although he might want to prevent them from killing more people.

So, I think going to the dragon is sortof like his last option. He's worked for her before, so he knows he's not going to be doing anything especially suicidal. I think he expected to get sent up north to fight the giants some more.

Does that seem reasonable to you?

0: Born in Doneal to minor noble who showed him no love

13: Left with Herbalist to go north to another castle

16: Becomes soldier, heads further north to forests and orcs

21: Nearly killed on the field of battle, Herbalist dies, returns to childhood home, learns that he truly never has had a family, resolves to rely only on himself, forced to flee Doneal

21: Arrives in Chadreal for a time, realizes he needs a purpose in life

21: Arrives in Belshiran Federation, begins exploring Vurkane forest with three mates, Borris, Allustan, Arodel

24: Borris Killed in forest, captured by pirates, Allustan killed, made to row with Arodel

24: Conflicts, disease, ultimately slaves mutiny against weakened crew, Cuneo ends up putting on captain's hat

24: Sell stolen cargo, reoutfit ship, begin to patrol waters from Cathituli to Golapor

26: Cuneo realizes he doesn't like this life, perhaps it's too boring, perhaps there aren't enough interesting people who he can call family (Arodel has sortof become his brother), perhaps it's the lack of trees. Decides to retire

26: They chase a pirate ship fat with gems north, to outside Inzeldrab, defeat it, dock, and sell gems

27: Retirement. Cuneo has fought for his life on three continents and in two oceans, but he still doesn't feel like he's accomplished anything. Becomes alcoholic. Arodel now captain of ship, not around.

27: Meets wife

28: They get married, move out to Southeast Belkrosh fishing villiages

32: Arodel comes for him for first time in five years, needs help for mission for Dragon, Cuneo agrees, they go north and take a city

33: Cuneo returns to find his wife was killed by Mantids on the way north, despairs.

With nothing left but a rough strength in his limbs and a hard glint in his eyes, Cuneo decides he needs a purpose in his life once again. Perhaps he can add one more chapter to his long life before the rest of his beard turns grey. He goes to the Dragon.

I should have a section on appearance later. I'm also going to try to create a section which is more focused on conveying his personality, and will probably also be able to do that later today.

Then tomorrow maybe I'll have time to respond to feedback and do some general revision.

I know that at some parts my writing was very good, but I think overall there's still a lot of room for improvement. Are there any motives that you don't understand, or that don't seem fully fleshed out? Maybe awkward phrasings? Periods of Cuneo's life that just don't make sense?

Personally, I'm not sure I'm completely sold on him not just going back to the Vurkane forest once he regains control of the ship.

Anyway, would you like me to read your submission and offer my suggestions?

Instead, he found delight in the highlands and forests outside the crumbling walls of the estate. Cuneo always loved to wander in the woods, especially on stormy days, when the sound of rain on the leaves above filled the forest with roaring noise, and thunder could be felt far off on the mountaintop. Lurking then beneath the dense canopy, watching those at the castle whose attention was fixated on the wind and the rain, he felt safe. Then he could laugh without fear that he would be heard, and could behold the majesty and wrath of the heavens undisturbed.

Though his father payed little attention to Cuneo, it was arranged that he would receive training befitting a Donealian noble. He received instruction in grammar, spelling, and mathematics, although he found it difficult to concentrate on these subjects, mind wandering to distant trees and old forgotten pathways. He was trained, too, in archery and in swordplay, for which he showed a great propensity and love. It seemed that so long as his body was in motion, Cuneo was satisfied to focus on nothing but his immediate surroundings and the challenges he had to overcome.

As he grew older, Cuneo began to spend much time with an aged herbalist of tenuous family connection. Here too, he showed talent, categorizing and sorting plants patiently and precisely, and watching intently as tonics and tinctures were prepared. The old man would bandage wounded returning from fearsome forays and Cuneo would watch with wide eyes. He always showed a keen interest in matters of life and death.

When Cuneo was thirteen, the herbalist began to speak of moving away from the castle, to serve under a different lord. The man was thinking of Cuneo, wishing to bring the boy with him and rid him of his father’s influence. His father thought it a fine idea, hardly wishing them well as they set out on the old road that led away from the castle.

As they traveled through the countryside, Cuneo saw firsthand the horrors of long and bloody fighting. He had heard about the plight of his countrymen from tutors and teachers, but payed it little mind, content instead to think on crimson sunsets and rain in the forest. Now, as starving villages pulled their dead from bleak fields to salvage what few crops had survived the burning, Cuneo understood what true suffering meant. Twice they had to hide in the undergrowth beside the road as troops of soldiers passed by. It didn’t matter whose side they were on, they were rough men and the herbalist would not risk something bad happening to Cuneo.

Finally, after two weeks of travel, they arrived at their destination, another castle, this one nearer to the bloody border. Kneeling before the lord, they placed themselves under his service. Together, they set bones and sawed off limbs, preparing potions and picking herbs when there were none to care for. Cuneo found he missed the little woods of his childhood home, and the view from atop the mountain. He could not wander alone in a place as dangerous as this, and it never rained when they went out.

Instead, he focused on those other things which had kept him occupied, archery, swordplay, the toughening of his body and of his mind. Though there was no one to tutor him at his young age, he still remembered the drills he had been given, and executed them ceaselessly. By the time he was fifteen, he was able to bend the heaviest of hunting bows, and to drill his footwork for hours at a time. The soldiers and guards sparred with him regularly, and he found great delight in learning from them. So long as his limbs were sore and his breathing sharp he felt he was becoming better, preparing for the day when he could venture beyond the walls of the castle and shepherd those who could not defend themselves through their valley of darkness.

When he was sixteen, he was given arms and made a soldier of Doneal. Now he was the one to tramp noisily through the roads, and the one who everyone feared. But soon they were beneath the northern forests, and all was forgotten save the ceaseless warfare against the orcs. Many wounds were suffered, and much blood was shed beneath the broken boughs. Cuneo felt companionship, the soldiers far better than his real brother at making him feel safe and strong. This life lasted until he was twenty one.

At that he fell on the field of battle and was nearly killed. The other soldiers had saved him, but he was grievously wounded, and his life hung in the balance for several days as they marched back to the castle to lick their wounds. It was only when they arrived and the grey haired herbalist of his youth began to tend to him that his condition improved, and he began a long and slow recovery. By the time he had recovered from his wounds those soldiers who could had already ventured north once again, the orcs not waiting for them to recover. Cuneo found that, though his wounds were healed and his life saved, his old strength was gone. He strained his weakened body as often as he could, but it would be a long time before he could shoot a warbow again.

Feeling then weak and alone without the brothers he had made on the battlefield, Cuneo spent much of his time with the herbalist who was more of a father to him than his real father ever had been. But now the old man was bent and wizened, and could only shuffle about his patient’s bedsides, old wrinkled hands shaking as he changed their bandages. Then he began to cough, and it was not long before it was he who lay on the bed while Cuneo administered herbal teas and old forgotten remedies. It was to no avail, the old man died in his bed, leaving Cuneo tearful and isolated.

Feeling grief, despair, and anger, Cuneo returned at last to his childhood home, where he found his father and brother, still struggling to maintain their slipping grip on the mountainside. He thought perhaps the old woods and paths he had found in his youth would do him some good, and that he could again climb to the mountaintop and gaze across the lands below. Another, more sinister motivation lay beneath his journey, which he came to realize as he walked again across the countryside. Perhaps, he thought, if he could confront his father and learn why the man had always treated him like was worthless, perhaps then he could renounce the man and move on. Perhaps then he could learn to love himself now that the only man who had ever shown him unconditional love was dead.

He arrived during a feast, marching in through the front doors and taking a seat beside his father. The man was old, now, and his greying beard reminded Cuneo of the herbalist, though they could not have held more different places in his life. They spoke for some time, his father unapologetic about his loveless treatment of Cuneo. That was the hard reality of the world, he said. Like his fortunes, his love was finite, and had to be portioned in careful measure. Quaffing his wine, Cuneo left, sleeping on the hard ground outside the castle walls, which had become more comforting to him than a soft bed. He took comfort in the thought that there was nothing for him here. Though there were still soldiers he would have liked to see, his brothers in blood, but he knew that he did not need them. Lying beneath an ancient tree, rain beginning to fall softly, Cuneo knew that, above all, he needed nothing from anyone to survive. His hand rested easily on the hilt of his sword as he fell asleep.

The morning sun rose on a castle in turmoil. His father had been found stabbed to death in his bed, window shattered, a note signed with Cuneo’s name on the pillow beside him. His brother now in control of the family estate, the guards left in search of Cuneo, and found him, unaware of what happened, on the road towards the castle gates. Their captain took pity on Cuneo and told him to run, run through the woods he knew so well, run far beyond the end of the mountain, and run till the borders of Doneal were long behind him. Then he marched onward, his troop averting their eyes and following their captain’s lead.

Within a few weeks Cuneo was in Chadreal, his childhood home behind him, his old life in the northern forests a dim memory. With money he had saved from his exploits against the orcs, Cuneo was able to rent a room in a small from an old couple. For a month he relaxed, staying up late to tell the stories of his scars with their daughter, who listened with eager ears. Like many of the folk from that land, her past was simpler and brighter, her life more full of love. Like many who have a long and hard past, Cuneo kept himself emotionally distant and reserved.

After a month of soft hills and small forests, Cuneo found himself utterly bored. There were few matters of life and death here, and few things which held his interest. He found that he had less motivation to go and shoot his bow, and that when he drilled with his sword people looked at him strangely. Bidding the old couple and their daughter goodbye, Cuneo went south once again, all the way to the coast and over the sea, going far away to strange lands in search of something he could not find in this land of peace and plenty.

Across the rocking waves of the Sea of Stones, Cuneo arrived in a small city towards the western edge of the Belshiran Federation. There he heard tales and stories of the Vurkane forest, the many whispers and rumors surrounding its trackless interior stirring him like a wounded man stirs a healer. He found three likeminded souls in a tavern beneath a gibbous moon, and together they discussed plans and intentions. Allustan was in search of magical sources of power. Borris wanted to test himself and prove his might. But it was Arodel whose mind was most like Cuneo’s. Arodel had come from a wealthy family and had been well looked after, he had no need of money or of power, or anything else that could be found in the Vurkane forest. Arodel, like Cuneo, was in search of a purpose. Some men are like dogs: they must find something to sink their teeth into.

For three years they wandered through still hollows and sun spattered groves, returning occasionally to the city to gather supplies and consult ponderous tomes. Cuneo found himself totally and completely engaged. His body hard like a steel spring, his eyes open and his breaths quiet and short, he could think of nothing but that which was around him. They quickly learned that they were in over their heads, and had to avoid many fell and terrible things which creept silently through the still leaves. It was strange for Cuneo, so used to being a predator, but exhilarating all the same. And he found comfort, as he had since youth, in the smooth boles and high crowns of many high and ancient trees. They were straighter and taller here, in the dense forest, crowding tightly against one another with no humans to cut them down.

Soon after returning from a trip to the city, Borris was killed. They had to wait till the creature was done feasting before they could salvage what was left of his carcass. His family would be waiting. When the thing finally left, only a few meagre bones remained, shredded flesh still hanging off them, skull missing the jawbone. They each kept a knuckle, and brought the rest back to the city.

It was then, on the journey back to lay his bones to rest, that each of their lives was changed forever. They had a small boat which they used to move quickly back and forth, and as they sailed back along the coastline they were attacked by pirates. Surrendering immediately, they were placed at the mercy of rough men who live dangerous lives. Cuneo and Arodel were clapped in irons and sent belowdecks, Allustan was killed and tossed overboard.

For a few weeks, life was hell. They rowed each day from before sunup until after sundown, and if they slowed they were whipped and then returned to labor. Salt water made it’s way into the ship pooled at their feet, making their skin peel after the first day. They were given a meagre ration of bread and rat meat, not quite enough to keep them from starving. Manacles chafing, boat rocking, drums pounding, there was no comfort and no hope.

Land was sighted on the sixteenth day, southeastern Golm. They had come to the shores of Iskendal with a cargo full of stolen goods, ready to deal with a people who had few allies and few alternatives. Then came thunder in the heavens, and raindrops falling hard and fast like daggers from the sky. The ship was tossed about like a child’s plaything, turning and spinning in the wind and froth, the sea rolling and boiling like a witch’s cauldron.

A red sun dawned over a battered ship and a broken crew. For a day they merely drifted, moving ever to the south through unknown waters. Another ship was spotted on the horizon, flying a strange flag of green and white. It sailed next to them and hooked up, elves in armor holding bows, pikes flashing in the sky. They fought on the decks till blood ran down the sides of the ship, but in the end, the pirates were victorious and the elves defeated.

There were now only a few crew members left, barely enough to maintain order over the slaves. There were whispers of mutiny, and of one who could pick the locks with a fishbone and his fingernails. Then disease struck, and the whole ship was laid low in agony and despair, unable even to limp to the shore. And then the locks were picked, and the manacles flew open, and righteous revenge was exacted.

Only twelve slaves survived out of a group of nearly fifty, and all the crew now slept beneath the waves. The ship’s riggings had been damaged in the storm, and they were too weak to row, so they drifted at the mercy of the currents. For nearly twenty days the boat rocked gently, their food now gone, their water running out. Then land was spotted.

They had arrived on the northern shores of Mirem, land of excess, at a busy harbor, ship still full of cargo. Cuneo was weak as a kitten, but he put on the erstwhile captain’s hat and did his best to sell their stolen wares. The storm had come and gone, and they were still alive.

After three months in the harbor, the ship was freshly painted, and a new crew had been recruited. Cuneo and Arodel had spent many nights talking, and had decided they would venture further south, to Durnauc, where they could patrol the waters outside Cathuili beside enterprising merchants. Cuneo found that the hot sun and dense jungles of southeastern Golm were very much not to his liking, and the Vurkane forest now a dim and distant memory. Perhaps, in time, they could return to those lands and venture once again into the still and ancient airs beneath the trees. But having listened to Borris scream as he was eaten, Cuneo had realized that the horrors of that land were far beyond what he could face down with sword in hand.

For two years they sailed the high seas, Cuneo at the helm, Arodel at his side. The salt spray and gentle rocking of the ship held their own appeal, as did the elegant office Cuneo constructed, collecting curios on their many journeys. Cuneo found a stark beauty in the endless expanse of the ocean, the sparkling waves endlessly rolling on towards shores and coves left far behind. But, in time, Cuneo began to realize that a mariner’s life was not for him. Arodel remained his only real friend during this time, and though they had many long nights on the shore, and kept one another sharp and strong, he was not enough. Cuneo felt it was time to retire.

It was then that they sailed farther south and east, towards the remoter portions of Durnauc. There were many ships full of gems and precious stones, and many pirates which preyed upon them. Cuneo preyed upon the pirates. After several weeks without any luck, they heard tale of a particularly large and slow ship which had filled it’s hold with the contents of many merchants before sailing northeast along the coast. Cuneo set off at once after them, following as fast as they could manage. Many strange lands and small settlements fell away behind them before, finally, in the cold north once again, the caught their prize. A large ship indeed, sailing near the shore, decks full of scoundrels.

It’s crew proved to be few in number and weak of spirit, weakened by disease and by casualties sustained acquiring their cargo. Cuneo’s lads boarded the ship, captured the captain, and imprisoned the crew. Now master of two ships, they sailed onward, arriving in Inzeldrab in time for Cuneo to celebrate his twenty seventh birthday.

Cuneo took to the shores and began to relax for the first time since his brief stay in Chadreal. Arodel was still with him, and they found it was nice not to have to stay sharp. For a time. Then Arodel sailed off again, leaving Cuneo on his own in an unfamiliar city. Cuneo had decided it was time for him to retire, already his knees were beginning to feel a little stiff, and his bear had flecks of grey. A lifetime of stress takes it’s toll on the body.

Cuneo began to wander again in northern forests, as he had not done since his youth. But now things were different. He had seen the world and found nothing for him in it. Cuneo had relied on himself, as he knew he had to do the moment his father told him he didn’t have the love to spare for him. He had had adventures and tribulations. He had fought for his life on three continents and in two oceans, but he still wasn’t sure what he had accomplished. Cuneo began to drink heavily.

It was at this time in his life that Cuneo met the woman who was to become his wife. Elaine saw something in the hard glint of his eyes and the strange way he glanced around the room before sitting down and approached him to learn his story. He was distant at first, then confused. Why would anyone want to pay attention to him? The only man who had ever loved him was dead, and his only lasting friend had left for the call of the sea. She told him to come by her shop around closing time. It was an apothecary.

There is something about healing another person that is of inherent worth. Elaine found that Cuneo needed her skills, and Cuneo found that Elaine needed his. They moved far away from the city, to a small fishing village, and loved each other greatly for many years. It was strange, to have a place in the world and to feel another person’s unconditional love. Strange and wonderful.

Soon after celebrating his thirty first birthday Cuneo came home to find Arodel on his doorstep. The man had fallen on hard times, his ship’s spine had snapped, most of his crew died, and he had barely survived. He was working for the Dragon now, and he wanted Cuneo’s help. Cuneo promised Elaine he would be gone two months and set out to the northern borders of Inzeldrab, prepared to kill giants and take a small castle near the border. Meeting up with other forces of the Dragon, the successfully completed their mission through a mix of subterfuge, deception, and brute force.

Cuneo returned home to find that tragedy had struck the one home he ever had. Elaine had traveled north, upstream, to help soothe the slaves of a large farming settlement there. On her way, however, she had been killed by Mantids. There was no corpse to be found, only a heedless sun which scorched the earth until it there was nothing but dust. Dust, that was what she had become.

Cuneo went north. He had to get away. There was nothing left for him anywhere anymore, he was a broken man with only a hard glint in his eyes and a rough strength in his arms. The dragon would have work for him, perhaps, work he could set his teeth into and struggle with. He kept his wedding ring with his knucklebone, cruel reminders of past lives now lost. Perhaps Cuneo could add one more chapter to his life before the rest of his beard turned grey.

GM Mercy, is this too long? I could probably try to make it somewhat shorter if you want.

I'm wondering exactly how much of a time commitment it will be to run a leader. I can post multiple times a day, but I don't think I can commit to ever spending more than an average of an hour and fifteen minutes a day. In general, my schedule tends to change with the seasons, and the weeks. I have to plan for my least available times, and I can't in good conscience apply to this game unless I know that I can meet the time demands.

I like your setting enough, and have become invested enough in my character, that I'll probably apply as a regular player if I don't end up the leader.

My submission will be a man in his early thirties who has traveled far and lived several lives already. But now, wife dead, homeland far across the seas, ship sunk beneath the waves, he's got nothing left but his skills and the need for a purpose in life.

I have a a few more general questions.

We're going to start at fifth or sixth level, about how powerful does that make us? Is everyone that an average villager ever meets first and second level? Are people substantially more powerful than us as common as ships?

What is the government of Inzeldrab like? Are there feudal nobility who rule in the name of the dragon and pay tribute to her, or does she do things more directly?

What is Hafton producing with it's industry? I don't know if this is a stupid question or not, but what are the demands and how does production meet them? I'm also interested to hear how widespread their products are.

How big is one hex on the local map?

Thanks for your time.

I am a student at a liberal arts college about to begin my second year, planning to major in medieval European history. Gary Gigax had some understanding of military history, and originally designed Oerth with the migrations of various peoples across the island of Britain in mind. I have begun to create my own homebrew setting, and am trying very hard to make it as internally consistent as possible. As a huge fan and student of Tolkien, I understand how internal consistency and intelligent design greatly faccilitate immersion and allow for a much more enjoyable product.

I believe that my writing is strong, and I know that I have a very high degree of patience and determination. If you consider me as a player, I will be able to produce a strong submission with a complex and powerful set of motivations and desires. I haven't read through your setting material yet, as I do not know if I will apply, so I as yet have only the barest inklings of a character.