Pixie's Pad

I don't remember writing any of this but here it is. A few character bios, and then the start of something.

Bord Aylward

From the savage tundras of the north, Bord carved a name for himself in the skulls of his fallen enemies. From the tender age of twelve he fought defending his clan both with his blade on the field and with his tongue at the table. When his hair began to grey, Bord took an early retirement from captaining the most feared Barbarian army of the lands and now earns his coin as a foreign adviser in the lands to the south – though it is common knowledge that the fierce northerner can still hold his own against twenty men and any who say this is the only reason he is so successful in his current position will quickly feel the wrath of Bord's blade.

Tomeka Tova

The halfling village of Barleyton will never be the same after that fateful night when Tomeka Tova, Rogue Extraordinaire, was caught and detained at the village's only jailhouse for crimes against the Council of Brewers (on his way home from a hard day's pickpocketing, Tom had stumbled upon the 'unlocked' brewery and helped himself to a gratuitous pint or eight before staggering out and straight into the Nightwatch). sometime during the night a 'disturbance' was heard from Tomeka's cell and upon investigation, the two duty guards found a large hole ripped through the cell wall and out onto the street. Outside the hole, a trail of bloody pawprints led the guards to the outskirts of the town where the trail continued for a short way in the form of snapped branches and gouged soil. Tomeka was never heard of again, but the strange manner of his escape is still somewhat of a local legend.

Joya Serafina

Regarded furtively by many as 'a bit of a witch', Joya Serafina follows a path in life somewhere between harvesting the phenomenal power of druidism and the robust natural affinity of the Woodlands Ranger. Tall and lithe, her innate strength is often dismissed by those who do not know her (and they are many). Having come recently into awareness of an evil that would threaten her territory and its wild inhabitants, Joya agreed to help a band of miscreant adventurers and venture deep into a mysterious temple to purge the evil within. Her first task, and perhaps the most crucial to the mission, to use her shapeshifting abilities to free a most notorious – and somewhat ashamedly for him, recently captured – rogue from a small holding cell in a nearby halfling village.

Isa Dharmara

Isa re-animated her first dead crow at the age of four. Her parents, both clerics of reasonable reputation, were appalled and immediately sent their daughter to a remote parish for 'devout' schooling. Upon arrival, Isa was greeted by the man who had duped her parents into believing his was a school that could properly imbue holy righteousness into little Isa – and the man who would be her tutour in The Dark Arts of Sorcery until Isa outgrew his abilities aged eighteen. Keen to discover more about death and what lies beyond, Isa now travels the continent seeking anyone or anything capable of further advancing her necromantic prowess.

Aidan Moran

Born the son of a farmer, Aidan grew up knowing well the faces of hard work and toil. Though as his skin grew weathered and sun-kissed, the young man's mind knew unrest and he longed for answers to myriad questions that plagued him. Leaving his family, Aidan travelled to the city and found solace among its many temples and churches. He now devotes his life and learning to studies of the many deities of the world, and his talents of healing and calling holy might to his aid are known far further afield than the city walls.

Lorant Thanh

Lorant was raised in the Upper-Middle-Class district of an opulent city bi his mother, owner of a successful boutique, and his father, a businessman with multiple shares in textile importing.

Following successfully completing his schooling five years ahead of his counterparts and achieving one of the highest grade score averages ever recorded in the kingdom, Lorant began an apprenticeship in the Chamber of Commerce. Over the next two years he was solely responsible for setting up thriving trade routes with three neighbouring countries (one of which had previously declared it would never trade outside of its borders).

In search of a more interesting occupation of his time, Lorant (at only nineteen years of age) trained two proteges to continue his work in commercial trade and appointed himself head of a new division of the Chamber responsible for the investigation and subsequent control of 'mysterious artefacts'.

His finds so far have been housed in the city's vast museum. The increased tourism generated coupled with the worth of the items now registered as belonging to the city had raised the city's worth enough to mark it the richest city on the western hemisphere. Lorant hadn't expected such success and indeed had hoped to run his department in a quieter fashion. Realising the dangers of having a collection of powerful artifacts all under one roof he campaigned to have the items removed and dispersed to 'safe locations', but the greedy city council had already become too familiar with their growing pots of money and refused to do anything of the sort. Lorant was so disturbed by their heedless reaction that he tried to close the department and retire from his post, but a visit from a hired assassin threatening harm to Lorant's family persuaded Lorant that he'd be best to stay put and do his job. He is currently investigating rumours of a significant treasure trove hidden deep within an ancient temple in the largely unexplored forests far to the south, and plans to assemble a party to recover the horde. If he happened to ‘vanish’ in the course of duty, there'd be 'nothing the damned council could do about it'.

*****

Lorent sunk back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts span like whirlwinds and all he could focus on was Isa's perfume that still hung in the air. Did sorcerers wear perfume? Given the dubious things he'd heard of her interests he'd almost expected her to smell of dust, or dirt, or something else equally as unsavoury.

He closed his eyes and the memory of her sitting there, in his chair, in his office, lingered like a painting. For one terrifying instant he wondered if she were tapping into his thoughts right now, if perhaps she'd cast some spell that told her exactly what he thought and saw in his mind, but dismissed the notion out of hand as both silly and pointless. After all, he wasn't sure whether she had that capability or even if such a spell existed.

Lorant pulled a quill and paper from a drawer and, forcing all intrusive thoughts away, occupied himself with writing a note to a friend.

“Bord;

You've been desk-bound for as long as I have with no break. Can I persuade you to accompany me on a little adventure? Of course I use the word 'little' as I'd use it to describe your sword (which, by the way, would be very welcome to come too). So how about it? Fame, fortune, fighting?

• Lorant”

He scribbled the Department name on the reverse side, sealed the parchment and put it atop his daily pile of outgoing mail.

Lorant looked around his office and, finding it as immaculate as always and realising he had nothing else here to restrain his thoughts, he slipped into his overcoat and headed out to brave the evening city.

*

Aidan Moran never took the second turning off Grove Avenue into the lane even though it was quicker. He wondered about this as he found himself turning the corner into that very lane, and all but bumped into the man staggering towards him from the other direction. Had Aidan followed his usual route, he would have missed the man by seconds. He thought about this, too, as he caught the man and held him steady.

He recognised the young gent but couldn't immediately put a name to the face. His skin was clammy and pale, his eyes unfocused. Aidan pulled a chain from beneath his shirt, grasped the tarnished medallion that hung at its end and whispered something to the night sky, still clutching the man's arm with one hand lest he keel over.

A bright light surrounded them both momentarily and Aidan noted the colour returning to the man's face. It was the man he'd seen at the museum so many times, staring at the new acquisitions in their polished glass cases. The man drew a sharp breath, blinked as his eyes focussed, and looked up at Aidan.

Lorant Thanh, probably one of the most influential people in the city currently. Also the man responsible for donating a holy relic to Aidan's church recently, though they never met and so Lorant probably wouldn't know him.

Aidan thought about all of these consequences as he walked Lorant to a nearby bench and sat him down, while muttering a quick Prayer of Protection around them both. The air crackled.

“I think you were hurt,” Aidan told him. “I didn't see anyone else nearby; you stumbled into me when I turned into the alley.”