Backstory 10: Meeting More Misfits

His journeys and employers eventually brought Grynn far North to the forest region of Cormanthor. Here he finds an incredible coliseum that, according to townsfolk cheering within, has sprung up overnight. Grynn pushes his way through the crowd, wondering what the uproar is about. In the center ring he sees a bard praising a gnome’s eating abilities. Stranger yet, the gnome seem eager to live up to the bard’s boasts. A large cow is brought in, slaughtered and put on a spit. Not able to wait any longer, the gnome dives in and starts himself on half-cooked beef. His courage and fortitude were impressive.

Maybe he was more foolhardy than brave; the poor gnome puked and passed out after consuming an impressive two thirds of a cow. Grynn thought these folk might be worth a good story or two, and decided to make an effort to talk to them if he ever bumped into them in less of a spectacle.

For now I’ll leave them be, this festival atmosphere has made me hungry, and there were several healthy looking fish in the stream outside town. I’ll make camp there.

Backstory 9: Fort Arrowglance

His time in training at Fort Arrowglance was comparatively short, as Grynn had already learned and mastered many of the skills that most rookies spent years on. One thing was hard for him though, and that was learning to coordinate with a team other than his dire wolves. But Grynn proved himself worthy of the ranger’s oath, vowing to use his skills only to protect himself, his team, and his employer. Earning his ranger’s emblem at only seventeen made Grynn something of a legend. Grynn left the fortress, making sure to take a map listing the magically linked signboards that kept the rangers contracts updated, and headed out.

Backstory 8: Shizzo

On exiting the eastern gates, a half-elf with sharp features and dark hair approached them. “Skaxis said I’d find you coming through here, and that if I showed you how to use those fine blades you’ve crafted, you’d keep me well fed. To be honest I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to pick out a “string-bean of a lad with red hair”, but your dire wolves and swords gave you away.” Grynn turned and grinned, “You seem to know everything about me besides my name.” “Apologies boy, allow us to start the introductions. I’m Shizzo, also known as an artist of the Sanguine Streak sword style. I’ve been banned from my home for cutting down my tyrant of a father.”

“And I am Grynn, I’ve learned to be an experienced fletcher, archer, and hunter from my father, and Skaxis was in tears to see his favorite pupil leave. I’m accompanied by Rip and Snort, two young bastards entrusted to me by their dying mother. I intend to become a ranger, and escort travelers round the world.”

“Tell me Grynn, have you ever killed a man?” Shizzo questioned. Grynn looked uncomfortably at the floor, “Only because they threatened to hurt my pack.” “I see, very well, let’s get started. It’s a long road to Arrowglance, and you’ve got a lot to learn.”

Grynn’s training with Shizzo was very much dependent upon his full stomach, which seemed bottomless. But Shizzo kept his word and trained Grynn in the way of the sword. By the time they arrived at Arrowglance, Grynn was proficient enough to put the other rookies to shame.

Backstory 7: Taming Iron

Grynn set Rip and Snort loose to the woods each day, with instructions for them to return with any game they might find by noon. They faithfully returned each day with enough food for themselves, Grynn and Skaxis. While Skaxis insisted such tribute wasn’t necessary, he always accepted it.

Two years passed, and Grynn became an expert of the forge. Finally one of his blades was priced higher than anything Njoktus could craft, and Skaxis declared training complete. Now for the final exam, Grynn would have to select and heat and shape the metal himself. Skaxis whispered the secrets of folding the blade, and how to quench the back of the blade slower to create the curve. After sharpening and polishing the blade, it was ready to be fit with a grip. Grynn chose a dark red lacquer to paint the sheaths with, and tied each with a pair of the fangs Rip and Snort frequently lost.

True to his word, Skaxis had found Grynn a swordsman who had mastered the twin swords. Unknown to Grynn, Skaxis had already paid, as the quality of Grynn’s work had amassed him a small fortune. With a tear in his eye, old Skaxis gave Grynn a bear hug until he finally had to tap out. “I’ll miss you lad, you’ve got the stuff of greatness in you, and even though you’re not a dwarf, you’ve been like a son to me. I hope to find another pupil with half the potential you have someday. And I’ll miss the fresh meat! Take good care of my boy, Rip, Snort.” On hearing their names, they tackled Skaxis and shared their slobbery goodbyes.

Backstory 6: Skaxis

When Grynn arrived in Innablith he was overwhelmed by the sheer number of houses he could see on the horizon. Once they were within the city gates, the wagoner recommended an inn that allowed dogs, provided they were reasonably clean. Grynn thanked him, and continued to the weapon’s district. There they could sell the crossbows and daggers they had removed from the thieves. The merchant they sold the crossbows even had a few her father had made. They weren’t ornamented with fancy filigrees or knot-work, but they still fetched the highest price because their quality shown through to any experienced fletcher or archer.

They continued to a blade smith to sell the daggers. Grynn had never seen so many kinds of weapons in all his life. He hastily split the sales with the wagoner and continued to browse, until he spied a pair of swords. Each blade was about the length of his arm, with a gentle curve and a razor sharp edge. The handles were just long enough to allow both hands to apply power, while not so long as to require it.

“I can’t sell you those, at least not those specifically. I learned to make those bastard swords during my travels to the Moonshae Isles. To them, a sword is more than a weapon or tool; it’s a part of you, an extension of your soul. Therefore, you must make your own. That is why I cannot sell you that pair, but I can teach you how to make them.” A dwarf, who stood a head taller than most of his kin, said to Grynn as he turned away from his work. “Me name is Skaxis, and I’m the best blade smith in the city. I happen to be in the market fer a new apprentice, and I’d rather take on one tha cares more about the weapons than the fact their father can afford me. Naturally me price fer training is just as high as me skill, but I wouldn’t cheat and abuse a fine young lad like you, unlike Njoktus ‘cross the road.” Skaxis pointed out the window to a dark featured man who was kicking a young boy for spilling the water he was carrying.

“I’m honored by your offer, and would gladly accept, but why single me out? I’m not even a blacksmith.” Grynn questioned. Skaxis nearly shook the ground with his bellowing chuckle. “That’s exactly why, nobody has trained ya the wrong way to strike hot metal, yet ya certainly have an eye for quality work when ya see it. I’ll make ya a deal. Ya keep yerself well fed and rested, and buy the metal. I’ll sell anything ya make of worth in me shop, keep the lion's-share as tuition, and that should leave ya plenty enough to buy more metal and meals. When yer skill exceeds his,” Skaxis gestured toward Njoktus again, “I’ll show ya how to make the Moonshaean twin swords.” Grynn didn’t need to think twice, he agreed on the condition that they find someone who could train him to use the swords.

Backstory 5: First Job, First Kill

Three days of good stories into our travel, the wagon was ambushed by highwaymen on the way. A quick glance around showed there were only two, but armed with crossbows, they still posed a threat at their chosen range. I signaled rip and snort to hunt the robbers, these were the first humans we'd ever hunted but the principle was the same as a boar. Keep it calm and distracted until everyone is ready to strike. Our wagoner was doing a brilliant job with the distracting part, stumbling over his words as he pleaded for his life. 'What a coward, not even a half-hearted attempt to guard your passenger.' Is what Grynn was thinking as he subtly knocked his arrow and readied a second. The coward had wasted just enough time for my pack to surround our prey. Rip and snort jumped out simultaneously, grabbed both attackers by the legs, and took them to the ground.

As the pigs fell Grynn stood, drew and released his first arrow. Before it struck its mark, he had the next arrow ready and flying to its target. Just like his father showed him to hunt pheasants. Both arrows ruptured many vital organs as they entered the soft spot of the shoulder and passed down towards the men's hips. At age thirteen, those were the first men (be it a dwarf and a half-elf) Grynn had slain. As he collected their coin-purses He felt it strange to not be troubled by what most would call murder. He was defending his pack. They dragged the corpses into the woods so the buzzards could do their work in peace.