Typhus Larenon's page

The image rippled as a stray breeze disturbed the water of the viewing pool. The glowing figure peering into the water waved it’s hand and murmured and the image stilled and continued showing the horrific scene. A cloaked figure stood up with bloody dagger in hand and chuckled with a man’s voice. A dagger dripped blood from his hand, the edge sharpened to scalpel sharpness. He moved away and vanished into the shadows of the alley leaving behind his handy work. The young woman was stripped naked and blood covered in whirls and cuts in some kind of macabre art work. Her breath came in shorts gasps as her life drained away and she chanted the same thing over and over again.

“Sarenrae receive me. Sarenrae receive me. Sarenrae-“ she stopped as she breathed her last breath and the light in her eyes died. The glowing figure growled and banished the image with a snap of it’s fingers. The world around it blurred as it shifted to the material plane and knelt down next to the woman. Though it was pitch black as night was in full swing in Magnimar, no one saw the glowing figure kneeling next to the broken body of the teenager . A soft shimmering began to rise from the body and the glowing figure dipped it’s hand into her body, through the flesh without touching. It lifted gently and the girl’s soul rose up from her mortal remain, her spectral eyes wide and her breath coming in short gasps. “What-“

“Calm yourself my child. You will no longer feel pain. Take my hand and I will guide you to eternal paradise. Your torment is over.” The figure spoke with such power that thunder rumbled in the distance in response. “Redemption is yours, should you wish it.”

“I…yes.” She spoke as if in a dream, the fear and pain melting away from her face as peace settled. “Guide me please.”

The darkness drained away as the glowing figure surrounded the girl in soothing, protective gold light as moved them to the realm of death. A titanic figure draped in a shapeless black robes sat on a throne of basalt that loomed over them. From it’s feet an endless line of spirits stretched away over the grass of the cemetery and disappeared into the distance. Uncountable seconds would pass as each figure would come to stand before the black figure and a delicate womans’ hand would rise up and motion. The skin of the hand was pale white, not the white of undeath but the purity of divine purpose.

She would motion and the spirit would vanish, sent to it’s eternal resting place throughout the various realms of Hell, the Abyss, Heaven, Nirvana, Elysium or Abaddon. A rare few were sent back to the prime material realm to start life anew, their memories wiped and entering the world as a newborn child. And even a few rarer were pointed over to the mammoth graveyard in the distance, their soul concluding it’s eternal journey and having accomplished nothing. For them there was only destruction.

The teenager drew in a sharp gasp and held tighter to the figure’s arm. “What-”

“Calm yourself. That is She of the Eternal Rest, Judge of all who pass through the gates of death. Pharasma, goddess of death. We must obtain her judgment before passing on or incur her wrath.” The figure said. The girl looked up in surprise for now the figure sounded no stranger then a human. The light was gone as well as they stood in the realm of something far greater then the angel at her side and the only light allowed was the white glow from the immense moon that loomed in the sky. Here no clouds intruded, no lights from fires or cities pierced the moon touched darkness. Here peace and rest was the constant that held up the fabric of the cosmos and uncountable stars shimmered brightly as a vast field of light dimmed only slightly by that of the moon. It was a cold vision of beauty.

“Such is the way of death, cold but not cruel.” An immense voice said as the goddess spoke directly in the girl’s mind. “Go and be at peace. I have no quarrel with your goddess’s claim on your soul.”

The angel bowed to the titan and she lost interest and turned to gaze at the next soul. The angel’s face was covered by a shimmering white robe that exposed only his pure white wings but the girl could feel the power rolling off of him, like standing before a warm fire while a winter storm ravaged the world outside. “Who are you?” she asked.

The angel turned towards her and she gasped at the physical perfection of his face. His was the beauty sculpted by a goddess and filled with purpose, every aspect pleasing to her eyes. She could not find one thing that stood out from the others, his chiseled jaw, piercing blue eyes, silver hair that hung below his shoulders. Now she understood why angels were often the emissaries of the gods themselves.

The angel noted the girls surprise and smiled faintly as his wings spread out and the world blurred around them. Now sunlight bathed the world around them as a gentle wind made the nearby wheat field ripple like a golden ocean. The girl started as color flooded back into her vision and she beheld the beauty of the realm Nirvana. For a moment all she could do was look as the realm penetrated her spirit and freedom was all she felt. “So beautiful.” She mused as her memories slipped away and she moved from the angel’s hands.

“Enjoy it young one. Seek purity.” The angel said as he watched the girl began to dance through the wheat fields. Already color flooded into her as all of her burdens were lifted and she beheld good in it’s purest form, unhindered by law or chaos. The angel concentrated his will and shifted between realms again, this time appearing in the inner sanctum of the temple of Sarenrae in Magnimar as the first hints of sunlight came through the windows. An elderly human man knelt in silent prayer in front of a tall statue of an angel with arms and wings upswept and holding a gold disc up. The angel bowed in silent reverie to the statue before turning away and stepping out of the temple.

He wrapped a divine glamour around himself and appeared to the humans as little more then a city guard striding through the dawn with a purpose. Already fisherman and bakers were hard at work as the cities’ first workers left their houses. The guard slipped through the growing press of humanity without touching anyone, the path before clearing him as he walked. He stopped across the street from a tailor and waited for another hour until the front door opened. A male elf propped the door open and swept back inside to wait for his first customers.

The guard watched patiently as the tailor threw open all of his windows to display dozens of dresses in a riot of color. Already his first customers were walking down the street, a merchant’s wife and daughter dressed like high born looking to purchase yet another set of dresses for their already immense collection. The angel scanned their minds as they passed and silent sighed at the corruption gnawing at the mother’s soul. A gentle push was all it would take to push her fully into madness to the ruin of her entire family.

Impulsively the angel moved away from the wall and stepped directly into the path of the pair. “Woah!” he called as he stumbled and fell into the mother. Both toppled and she fell hard, her head bouncing off the cobble stones with a deadly thumping sound. “Excuse me ma’am!” the guard called as he picked himself up and knelt next to the woman. As he picked her head up he sent a jolt of healing energy into it as he helped her sit up. The blood clot that had been blocking the flow of blood to a very minor nerve in her brain and slowly unbalancing her sanity was knocked loose from the head trauma and then the breaches caused by the injury vanished as the healing energy poured in.

She blinked rapidly as a spiritual haze lifted from her eyes and looked up at him. He smiled and helped her stand and bowed his head while managing to look embarrassed. “I beg your forgiveness mum, my mind was elsewhere. Are you hurt?”

“It seems not.” She said as she patted her dress down. She looked at her daughter as if seeing her through new eyes and smiled. “I have an idea Jenesia. Why don’t we visit that delightful restaurant in the park and enjoy this beautiful day? We can always shop for dresses another day.”

The guard stepped away as the two reversed course and set off for the center of the city. The woman glanced over her shoulder at the handsome guard as he moved back to his post leaning on the wall across the street and watching the crowd pass by. He was lost from view as the crowds closed around them and swept them away.

Meanwhile the guard was sharing a look with the dressmaker who had come out as the pair moved away. While the angel managed to look bored the tailor glared at him for multiple reasons. Sending his power out the angel scanned the elf’s mind and beheld the darkness that permeated every pore of his spirit. Using the shop as a sort of trap the tailor would select a new victim from his customers at random times and stalk them for weeks before catching them unprotected and turning their body into bloody art. So far the guards had found nothing that could lead them to the killer that stalked the streets.

Suddenly a woman stood next to the guard, plainly dressed with silky blonde hair and golden eyes. She came only to his shoulder but at the same time seemed to tower over him. “Justice will find him. But not at your hand my son.” She said, her words reverberating in the guards head. He swallowed and pushed down the surprise at seeing Her here, resisting the urge to turn and kneel as was right. In Her presence he felt awed, as always, but giving in to those impulses here would gather unwanted attention.

“Lady of Light…I am honored by your presence. What brings you this realm?” he asked.

She turned those golden eyes on him and he felt the love and gentle nature of her pierce his heart. “You do. You are straying too close to the edge. It is not for us to judge the mortals, we can only guide them. They must make the choice to seek redemption. That is the blessing and curse of free will. They will rise or fall at their own hand.”

She looked over at the tailor’s shop and stared with unblinking eyes. People continued to walk by and after a moment the angel realized She had drawn a glamour over them once again, hiding them from view. ”That one is claimed by another. I will not risk open warfare by sending an immortal to silence a mortal. He will die by mortal means and suffer Pharasma’s judgment. Only when the Shadow claims him will he understand his damning acts. Come my son, unburden yourself of such thoughts. Let us return home.”

The angel realized that She was asking, not commanding. He knew that with a thought She could take him back to Nirvana, willing or unwilling. Such was her power. For some reason though She was giving him the choice. He looked back across the street and saw an elderly woman enter the shop and was greeted by the smiling tailor. The angel’s hand crept down to touch the scimitar sheathed on his belt, a potent weapon capable of laying low the most vile demons and devils. No, now was not the time for a cleansing fire. He let go of his irritation and let the love and forgiveness of the goddess next to him wash through his spirit, lifting him from his black mood. ”Let us go Shining Mother.”

She smiled and instantly they stood in a glorious palace filled with white marble and crystal that flickered with a thousand shades of sunlight. The angel’s illusion drained away and he pushed back the hood of his white robe and basked in the glory of the center of Sarenrae’s power, the Palace of Golden Redemption. The entire building was built of celestial crystal that would filter the eternal sunlight and blind any creature unwelcome to these halls. To her servants and petitioners the light was gentle and warm, never providing more then just enough light for them to see clearly.

“Come Typherion.” The woman said and started down the hall. With each step her mortal illusion faded away to reveal a stunning figure wrapped in silver-white robes that stood a foot taller then the angel following her. Her hair was literal fire that cascaded down her back and swayed with each step just like normal hair. From her back ethereal golden wings formed from pure sunlight unfolded and the sunlight filtering through the walls brightened at the return of it’s goddess.

Typherion hastened to follow behind Sarenrae as she walked down the hall. Stationed every twenty feet a pair of sentries stood on either side of the hall, astral devas armed with enormous warhammers calmly watching everything. The passed room after room and several hallways that lead to hospitals, armories and training rooms where newly formed angels were taught everything they needed to know about the forces of good and evil. All of these the goddess passed and soon Typherion realized she was leading him to the throne room.

The closer they got to the throne room the heavier the security become. Astral devas were replaced with green skinned four winged planetar’s wielding immense greatswords wreathed in golden flames and encased in gleaming silver fullplate. Standing to either side of the throne room doors was a figure that radiated power, each one a six winged solar in golden rimmed silver fullplate and a pair of scimitars at their waist. To an angel each and every guard, servant and petitioner stopped and bowed deeply as their goddess walked by. She smiled, looking at no one yet somehow conveying deep affection for everyone.

The solars bowed before opening the massive double doors, each a thirty foot high slab of crystal shot through with a filigree of mithril and gold. Despite their fragile nature these were the final barrier guarding the inner most sanctum of the Sun Goddess and could withstand all but another god attacking them. Inside the sanctum was..indescribable. Those few who could remember any details would mention light and flame, warmth and cleansing. A gentle wind cavorted around the circular room open to the perpetually lit sky and brought with it the smell of a sun soaked meadow in the height of summer, a scorched desert under the glare of a noon day sun. The floors and walls were made of the same material as the rest of the palace only here it seemed purer, more deadly.

Sarenrae flowed up a short flight of stairs to an ornate throne crafted from flame wrought gold that glowed with it's own internal light and sat down, her white robes gracefully spreading around her on the floor. “Open your heart my son. What troubles you?”

Typherion stopped at the base of the stairs and knelt as was only right in her presence. This close to her his heart should have been quieted with peace but the thoughts running rampant through his mind would not allow it. “Forgive me milady but my spirit is unquiet. We have such power within us yet can do little but guide from a distance. We see evil perpetuated everywhere but-”

“But good always resists and eventually succeeds. Such is the nature of our existence. We watch and guide and intercede only in the event that our ancient enemy interferes directly. Those were the laws wrought upon our kind since the dawn of time and we ignore them only to our peril.” Sarenrae explained gently. She sighed and tilted her head to the side a few inches, smiling down on Typherion as a mother watching her youngest babe attempting to walk for the first time. “But that's not enough for you, is it?”

“Forgive me milady but no. I cannot stand by while innocents suffer. Not when I have it in my power to ease and stop their suffering, to hold back the darkness with light.” Typherion said resolutely. Knowing in his heart that the path opening before him was the right one he stood and dared to look up and the stairs and directly into Sarenrae's eyes. “I request to be made mortal. To fight suffering and darkness where it makes the most difference, among the mortals.”

Suddenly Sarenrae threw back her head and laughed, the sound pure and jarring. Typherion blinked as he regained his wits having lost the past few seconds from the burst of power from the goddess. She continued to chuckle as she looked at him with amusement and infinite love. “You are as constant as gravity aren't you?”

“Milady?” Typherion asked, confusion plain on his face.

She waved his question away and came down the stairs to stand directly in front of him. Somehow during that she had shrunk until once again she came only to his shoulder but that did nothing to diminish the pure beauty of her face. She placed her hands on either side of his and gently kissed his cheek. “You do not remember but your soul cries for the harsh reality of the material realm. I've lost count how many times you've risen and ask to be sent back to continue the fight. If that is what you wish then I will allow it. ”

“I wish that. Do what you feel is needed to send me back.” Typherion said firmly. “Wherever I am needed, send me there.”

The goddess turned away and stared into the distance. “Great darkness threatens...yes..no not there. Shall you...ah yes.” she smiled and turned back to Tyhperion. “This time you shall not go back as a newborn babe to live a life of purity again. There is a need for you elsewhere, as an adult with the first hints of your potential beneath your feet. Fight the darkness until your mortal frame gives out and return to me.”

She reached up and touched his forehead and the world dissolved as he felt a great wrenching feeling emanate from his chest. He was surrounded by a terrific roaring noise as the floor vanished and he fell from heaven in a blaze of fire and light. His armor stripped away from his body one piece at a time and vanished in a blaze of light, surrounding his body in a cloud of debris that all ignited and trailed a fiery tail behind as they entered the upper atmosphere. Typherion felt a great lethargy come over him as he began to fall through clouds still wreathed in a corona of flames. The last thing he heard was an explosion of sound as he came into contact with the heavier air closer to the surface.

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”Rise my sweet.” the voice whispered into his dreams just as the man rose from sleep and his eyes flew open. A heavy wooden beam sat over his head where it supported a ceiling of soil and stone. He raised his head and saw he was lying on a mat pushed against one wall across the small bedroom from a small bed that would have left his feet lying off had he been laid there. He sat up and closed his eyes against the sudden spike of pain that lanced through his head as blood rushed up.

“Careful lad you took quite a knock.” an elderly voice said from the nearby door as an ancient halfing woman came through with a small tray filled with three bowls of tasty smelling stew. The man realized he was starving as he stomach gurgled at the smell and he straightened before realizing he was wearing nothing under the blanket and quickly pulled it up. He noticed something and brought his hands up and saw they were the same size as the woman’s. He reached up and felt the slight point to his ears and suddenly recalled he was a Halfling himself.

The old woman chuckled and handed the tray to him. “It's nothing I haven't already seen lad.” she said with a voice that reminded the man of warm honey. She gently sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed as some of the weight was taken from her joints. She placed both hands on the top of a well worn cane and stared at him with warm brown eyes. Her hair was completely grey and pulled back into an ornate knot before falling freely down her back leaving her slightly pointed ears exposed. She was dressed in a simple dress and robe that showed the marks of a master crafter, earthy greens and brown accented with yellow. “Let's start with the simple questions. What's your name? Mine is Eda.”

The halfling paused with a spoon full of stew halfway to his mouth and scrunched up his forehead in thought. “My name?”

“Yes lad, your name. You've been asleep for two days. Can you at least remember that?” she pressed.

“I...I remember a name.” the man said. He closed his eyes and tried to remember, finding nothing but great voids. He could only see vague images of flames and shouts and a sudden shame and fear.

“Typhus!” he blurted out suddenly. “My name is Typhus. I...came from somewhere. Andoran. I was born in Andoran, came out here because...merchant caravan. Typhus Larenon, caravan healer. We were attacked by bandits while camping just off the main road to Restov. It was the middle of the night and we had just turned in for the night.” Typhus said as memory flooded back into him. “I was tending to little Marie as she fallen the day before and broken her ankle. Her father Alrik was my employer and he was out checking the sentries when the attack came. He was killed almost instantly, riddled with arrows. I don’t remember much else other then pain and running from fire.”

“Well that explains it. We found you collapsed among the hemlock grove with most of your clothing charred and very little left. You were covered with burns and cuts and the only thing that gave us any clue of you was this.” The old woman said. She reached into a pocket of the dress and pulled out a steel holy symbol of Sarenrae from her pocket. She handed it to him and the moment his skin touched the cool metal a feeling of rightness flowed through him. He sighed and concentrated on the symbol, mentally chanting a prayer of thanks. The symbol warmed suddenly in his hands and he opened his eyes to see gentle white light spilling from it. A moment later the glow diminished and he felt energized and suddenly full of energy.

“As I thought, a true cleric.” The woman said while unwrapping a bandaged finger to reveal clean, unbroken skin. “Thank you for that, the cut was taking far too long to heal.” She was cut off from saying anything else as the sound of a door opening sounded. A male voice called out in a strange, lilting language that the old woman responded with and that took Typhus a few moments to translate as the traditional halfling tongue. Footsteps came close and suddenly a much younger Halfling stood in the door with a pack over one shoulder. He was extremely muscular for a halfling and his fierce brown eyes raked over Typhus and a slight grin cracked his stern visage at the cleric’s naked torso. He had a pair of handaxes strapped next to a brace of daggers on his belt and a longbow sized for him strapped over one shoulder. He was dressed in form fitting leather armor and a cloak of mottled greens and browns. His dark brown hair was tied back into a tight braid and he looked as if he could easily take on someone twice his size.

“Awake finally? Good. I was wondering if your spirit had departed and all that was left was your mortal body. Here, clothes that fit.” He said. He slung the pack around and easily tossed it across the room to land in Typhus’s lap. The cleric grunted as the wind was driven from him and fumbled to keep the pack from rolling onto the floor. He opened it to see sturdy clothing of white and brown that looked tailored for colder weather. Moving quickly the cleric pulled a white linen shirt that was only slightly too big for him. Next he squirmed around under the blankets to pull on the supple leather pants that actually fit well and tucked in the shirt before pushing the blanket away and standing up.

A moment later he was back on the ground and bracing himself as his vision swam and the blood rushed to his head. The younger Halfling let out a braying laugh and turned and vanished into the house. The older woman only smiled and got up and began to make her way slowly out, leaning on her cane heavily. Typhus picked up the tray with three empty bowls and followed her out. Outside the room was a hallway with several other bedrooms attached. To the right the hallway ended after another ten feet and to the left it opened into what looked like a dining room of some kind. Everything was made with field stones, plaster and heavy wooden beams that gave the house a feel of solidity.

Typhus followed the old woman while she led him the kitchen, chattering away the whole time. “Don’t mind my grandson he’s always like that. And don’t let his gruff exterior fool you, he was the one who carried you in from the fields on his own and got you situated. Leave the dishes here and Elsa will see to them later.”

Typhus left the tray next to the washing basin that looked as if it had been carved from a single boulder by a master. “Elsa?” he asked while following Eda into the living room. She sat in an old rocking chair that creaked as she settled. Ignoring the cold of the uncovered fieldstone floor on his bare feet Typhus sat on a stool that was against a wall.

“My granddaughter Elsa, Thorin’s twin sister. She’s out gathering honey right now. She’s the one who take care of you while you slept.” Eda said as she began to rock and fill the house with what seemed like a familiar creaking noise. Typhus relaxed at the sound as his own memories began to filter back, his mind filling with visions of his own childhood. He had been raised by his paternal grandfather after his parents died in a house fire when he was very young. The old man had been grumpier then a newly woken bear in early spring but had had a heart of gold.

He was broken out of his reverie when Thorin came back in with a pair of supple leather boots that he tossed to Typhus before leaning against the edge of the large table that dominated the center of the room and grabbing an apple from the a bowl. The two men stared at each other in open challenge for several seconds before the roughed edged Thorin grinned and clapped Typhus on the shoulder. “Good! Never back down from a fight. I think we’ll get along just fine.”

“Stop that Thorin! Can’t you see the man is still gathering his wits?” Eda chided while tapping her finger on the arm of the chair with impatience. Thorin only grinned before pushing off the table and opening a door that let in a blast of sunlight. Whatever Eda was saying was lost to Typhus as he rose up and followed Thorin outside in bare feet, boots forgotten next to the stool. A shudder went through his body as sunlight bathed him and he spread his arms and leaning his head back to expose everything to the bright light.

Under the cleansing sunlight his memory came back in a rush, his childhood in freedom loving Andoran, the death of his parents followed fifteen years later by his grandfather. One day stepping outside as dawn crested over the ocean and hearing a beautiful voice calling to him. His initiation into the Dawn Temple in Almas as well as his training with the Eagle Knights. And his mission, the most important of all, to spread the word of freedom and equality and goodness.

“Feel better?” a melodious voice asked from behind. Typhus turned around and his heart skipped a beat at the beautiful woman who stood with a basket full of honey jars. She had emerald green eyes and blonde hair swept back into a ponytail . She was dressed in a green dress and apron spotted with raw honey with a bee buzzing around the basket.

“Elsa?” Typhus asked. She nodded and frowned as the bee landed on her wrist. She lifted the wrist up to her face and gently blew the bee that took flight and buzzed around her face.

“Shoo. Go home.” She said firmly to the bee. It continued to fly around her for a moment before zooming away towards the edge of a large forest not two hundred feet away that stretched from horizon to horizon. “It’s going to be dark soon so come inside.” She said before bumping the front door open with her shapely hip and ducking into the house.

Typhus looked back at the sun and realized it was just a few hand spans over the horizon. In the distance he could see Thorin returning with a brace of conies hanging over one shoulder. A huge wolf walked next to him, a creature of grey and black with intelligent yellow eyes that stood an inch taller then the halfling. The two fit together as only partners could and it stopped by Typhus only long enough to give him a thorough sniff before following Thorin inside. Smiling to himself Typhus went back inside and closed the door behind him.

Elsa was in the kitchen getting to prepare what looked like dinner as Thorin began to gut and clean the rabbits. The wolf sniffed around at the base of the large fireplace before spinning three times and settling down with a huff. Eda was still sitting in the rocking chair but was now sewing what looked like a cloak identical to Thorin’s. Her hands moved with the quick and precise actions only decades of practice could provide. She hummed a haunting song that filled the comfortable home with a purity of…belonging.

Typhus could only stand by the front door and watch this family work. They lived deep in the wild and relied on only what nature provided. It was something foreign to the city born halfling but still resonated with him on a deep level. His grandfather had been raised like this and if not for his holy mission he could see himself happy here.

For the next few weeks Typhus integrated into the Blackhill family and helped out wherever he could while he rethought how he was going to fulfill what he came here to do. Brevoy still sat under the rule of their conquerors Issia but that was still far away and Typhus just couldn’t seem to bring himself to leave. The Blackhills lived at the very northern tip of the Narlmarches among a field of barrows, their house cleverly hidden. Thorin would vanish into the forest for a day or two hunting with his wolf companion Deselda or take the day long journey east to a trading post run by a human Oleg for supplies they couldn’t find in the forest.

Eda, the elder matron of the small family, contented herself with keeping busy around the spacious underground dwelling and creating cloth and clothing from the supplies gathered by Thorin and Elsa during their forays into the wild. Her great loom spun out thread of every hue at a prodigious rate and before long Typhus was given his own set of clothing that more suited his city upbringing while still being extremely durable and suited for the northern climates.

The beautiful Elsa was perhaps the oddest of the family. At first she would say very little to Typhus, vanishing into the forest soon after dawn and often not returning until sundown with her basket full of strange herbs or jars of honey from the bee hives she maintained. She had a way with animals that Typhus could not explain, even with the fierce and independent Deselda. After two weeks Typhus began to accompany her into the forbidding forest armed with a basket and pack. The Narlmarches were no place for the unprepared but Elsa could navigate the tangle of trees, streams and ravines with ease and showed him many sites of hidden beauty. Animals never bothered them while he was in her company and it was with her that he saw his first unicorn.

It didn’t take very long for the two of them to strike up conversations during their long rambles and that’s where Typhus learned Elsa was a follower of the Green Faith and her devotion to the forest showed in the way both plants and animals reacted to her. They began to compare the different theological views they held and how his worship of the sun goddess in many ways ran along the same lines as her veneration of the green places, although his views centered more on people and her’s on the wild places of the world and those that lived within.

As Typhus became restless he switched tactics and began to travel with Thorin to Oleg’s Trading Post or out on his rambles. The cleric was nowhere near as adept a woodland traveler as Thorin or Elsa but he did what he could to help both of them. Thorin didn’t say much during their travels, more content with watching for danger as he patrolled the game trails or roads that came near their home among the barrows. He taught Typhus how to ride wolves as they had no dogs or ponies and soon after Deselda had a large litter of pups that required all hands on deck to deal with.

A year later found him visiting Oleg’s Trading Post with Thorin when a strange group of adventurers comes to the post.