Gaijin

Great thread! Keep it going, this stuff is a blast to read! Here's my contribution:


It is hard for me to imagine myself a saviour. Though I have vanquished the undead evil from the tombs of Valeia; though I have slain demons and rescued the soul of the knight D'Soto from eternal damnation; though I have sworn the Sacred Oath and now wear the very ring that entitles me to wield the Blade of Prophecy, I still cannot believe that such is my destiny. Perhaps once I finally feel the weight of the Mavin in my hands my doubts will be quelled. Perhaps not.

When first I came to Valeia, I was but a squire, and had seen little of the outside world beyond my own tiny village. Naturally, I felt most at ease around the Humans of the village, as I had (regretfully, I must concede now) enjoyed minimal exposure to the other Clans of the Gael Serran. Though Valeia was a small village even by my own humble standards, I was surprised at the ethnic diversity of its inhabitants, and quite unnerved by it at once.

I found my first friend in the benevolent (and distractingly beautiful) Human Priestess Loren. She answered many of my questions regarding the various peoples of the Gael Serran and we quickly grew inseperable. Though from different backgrounds, we shared many common beliefs and ideals. I was a student of the Eastern Philosophies, and I soon discovered that her own faith was not far removed from mine. Only now that I am truly a Samurai Warrior have I come to see that without her and the aid of her patron goddess, I never would have achieved this goal. She has told me on more than one occasion that she will trade her vows of celibacy for the armor of a holy Paladin soon, that we may finally be wed without losing the favor of Kerah. She is already quite skilled with a mace, and I look forward to the day when we may fight side by side as husband and wife.

Even with Loren's assistance at the beginning, I knew we would need more adventurers to accompany us on our journey. One night at the tavern (whilst discussing the intricacies of our respective faiths, as we were so prone to do in those days), we were blessed twofold in the form of a Lizzord barbarianess and her unlikely travelling companion. I will recount the tale as best as I can recall:

To remember the look on Loren's face, and indeed the faces of all the tavern's customers, at the sight of the alarmingly huge Lizzord with the Ratling riding atop her shoulders still brings a smile to my lips. I suppose that even I must have stared more than I care to admit. Into the tavern they came, and everyone watched curiously as the Ratling ordered two ales at the bar. He clung to the Lizzord's great scaly head, his furtive eyes searching the room and finally coming to rest on our table. He chittered something into the ear (or what I assumed to be the ear) of his companion and the barbarianess approached hesitantly, sizing us up the whole way.

"Please join us," I offered, taking grim note of the well-used twin axes that dangled from the Lizzord's belt. "Those are fine axes you have there..."

The Ratling tapped his mount on the shoulder and the Lizzord lowered herself carefully into a chair. "She ain't like to understandin' Humantongue, much less speakin' it. I'll tell her ya says so, though, eh?"

I nodded, smiling uncertainly. The Ratling made no attempt to tell the Lizzord anything at all, instead taking a long draft from his tankard and twitching a bit of froth from his whiskers. The Lizzord's tongue dipped into her own ale, her golden eyes watching my every move.

"You're the one what's been pokin' around them crypts at the old cemetery, eh? Collectin' skulls for bounty and whatnot?" the Ratling asked me at length. "I reckon you'll be needin' my help if ya wants to get at all the REAL goodies down there..."

"I hadn't realized that our exploits were so well known about town," I replied. "But yes, we have been sending the dead back to their graves. Loren and I, that is."

The Ratling winked at Loren. "Priestess of Kerah you are, eh? That's a lotta skulls if ya want to get that new wing built on the temple. And there ain't no faith strong enough to keep them chests from blowin' up in your face, eh? Ain't that right, Saethra?"

The Lizzord grunted and said something in her native tongue, which sounded like nothing more than a series of low hisses and throaty clicks to my untrained ear.

"Ayup, she says I'm right, eh." The Ratling gulped the rest of his ale and handed the empty mug down to Saethra. "My name's Grin, pleased to meet ya both I am. And this here's Saethra, from the meanest tribe o' Lizzy barbarians you could ever hope to not meet." The Ratling chuckled. "She can bust three skellies apart with one swipe, eh."

Examining the Lizzord up close, I supposed that was an understatement.

"Aw, she looks like a right nasty one, but trust me she's a kitten deep down. Ain't that right Saethra?"

The barbarianess growled and though I had never before seen a Lizzord scowl, I recognized her expression for what it was.

"I thought she didn't speak..."

"Bah, she understands what she wants to," the Ratling interrupted with another chuckle. "Anyhows, enough o' that. You lookin' for some help or no?"

I was indeed, and told him as much. Though still a little wary of the pair's intentions, I allowed them to join me and soon came to realize what steadfast allies they were. Saethra, with her double axes, was a fearsome sight to behold in the midst of a battle. Grin, on the other hand, was usually nowhere to be seen during said battle. But he was always there, tucked away in the shadows, watching and waiting; and when he struck, he was lightning fast with his rapier and surprisingly deadly. As well as being agile and dextrous to an extreme degree, I quickly found him to be one of the most intelligent beings I had ever encountered (despite his blatant and intentional butchery of the Human Tongue) and he has since become greatly interested in the Eastern Disciplines and entered training as a Ninja. I am beginning to believe that there is no lock in the Gael Serran that can offer him anything more than a mediocre challenge, and no foe that can pick him out of the darkness when he doesn't wish to be seen.

Rounding out our party is the swarthy and enigmatic Human Warlock Albuzar and the somewhat aloof Elven Wizard Elyssia (who have stories of their own that I may or may not recount at some future time). I assure you, it is nothing more than coincidence that the leader of a certain Serpent Cult and band of thieves shares the name of one of my companions. Elyssia herself was furious when she discovered a scrap of paper that was apparently an assassin's note calling for the death of the leader of the Hidden Circle with her own name scribed at the bottom. This discovery caused everyone much distress (especially Grin), as we believed it to be a ploy by the Black Hand to set the rogues of the Hidden Circle upon us. We later discovered, thankfully, that this wasn't the case at all, and that there was indeed another who went by the name of Elyssia. Fate is a curious thing sometimes.

And now, please forgive me, but I must retire. I journey to speak with the Third Watcher tomorrow and I must have my wits about me when the time comes. May your travels be long my friends.