Rogues Gallery
Rogues Gallery
Here's the place to post your PC sheets for reference.
Re: Rogues Gallery
Conwenna
Re: Rogues Gallery
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redwarrior
- Ranger Lord
- Posts: 2649
- Joined: Wed Mar 13, 2019 1:07 am
- Location: Sumner, WA
Re: Rogues Gallery
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Re: Rogues Gallery
We could really use a mage. 
I
I
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ravenn4544
- Rider of Rohan
- Posts: 8417
- Joined: Fri May 25, 2012 10:06 am
- Location: Pennsylvania
Re: Rogues Gallery
Pebble
"Come at me, Bro!"
Igber 'the Mop' ... Craftsman (Thief)
Igber was raised to follow Egruthad, Terrible and Great ... while respecting priests, religion never gave Igber the 'warm-fizzies'.
"welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness" - e.e. cummings
Re: Rogues Gallery
^ I think this is corrrect
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BackworldTraveller
- Rider of Rohan
- Posts: 6359
- Joined: Wed Oct 07, 2020 4:08 pm
Re: Rogues Gallery
Igber
Re: Rogues Gallery
Conweena's full backstory:
Wichtelmännchen. The word always terrified Conwenna. She was taught as a child that they would steal her and put her in their cold dark holes to dig in the rocks. It was a myth they would teach all the children to make them mind their parents and the village elders. Do the laundry or he wichtelmännchen will get you. Tend the garden, or the wichtelmännchen will grab you.
When she was old enough, she was tired of being victimized by this folktale, so she started training to be a warrior, like her aunt, and some of the other older women in the village. She excelled in her disciplines, knowing that the next generation of the village would rely on her, and just a few others. In time, and training, she grew out of the folktale, but there were many other things to guard the village against. Bears, wolves… possibly even other hostile tribes coming to steal their fuel or food in the cold endless winters. Tribes were even known to take the children, maybe as slaves, maybe for other reasons.
When the men were out on the great hunt, or during the summer, if they were out on a trading expedition, and the women were tending the needs of the children and the elderly, it would be their job, her job, to guard the village, especially the children. There were many threats to the village, bears, wolves, and the ever present cold. They would take shifts. It was the only fair way. Sometimes they would watch during the day, sometimes they had to stand watch through the night, keeping the fire lit. keeping watch over the village.
A few months ago, it was Conwenna’s turn to keep watch through the night with two others. A dark winter storm was rising. Possibly the last blizzard of the winter. As the winds howled, and the night drew on, she began to get tired. Try as she might, she could not keep awake. Visions of the warm lands of the south came to her mind. Of great forests of trees that would sway in the winds. Of children playing among the trees, dancing with them, swinging from glittering chains that hung from the gnarly boughs. Dancing, and laughing and singing. The trees and the children all started running away, and she ran to stay with them, but she couldn’t. She sank into the hills, like wading through drifts of snow as the trees and the children ran across them unhindered.
She woke, far from the village in the wild storm. Through the fading gloom she cold see the torches of the men, returning from the hunt. But it was too late. She knew it was no dream, and the children were gone. They found her weeping in the snow, barely alive, her hands and feet were blue with frostbite.
Her tears turned to joy at their report. They had caught the wichtelmännchen escaping with the children, and they killed them all. None escaped. The children would be safe.
The next week, once she had recovered from her ordeal, the village shaman came forth, and questioned Conwenna and the two others about what happed. After a long process, he announced to the elders that there was no irresponsibility in her. Of the three who were keeping watch that night, she was the only one who was able to fight off the spell and try to save the children.
After a long council, the elders decided she should be sent with the men on the next trade ship. Perhaps her training would be useful, for the ocean voyages are no less dangerous than the howling winter nights. The other two would be put to hard labor, for they proved unworthy to guard the village.
Wichtelmännchen. The word always terrified Conwenna. She was taught as a child that they would steal her and put her in their cold dark holes to dig in the rocks. It was a myth they would teach all the children to make them mind their parents and the village elders. Do the laundry or he wichtelmännchen will get you. Tend the garden, or the wichtelmännchen will grab you.
When she was old enough, she was tired of being victimized by this folktale, so she started training to be a warrior, like her aunt, and some of the other older women in the village. She excelled in her disciplines, knowing that the next generation of the village would rely on her, and just a few others. In time, and training, she grew out of the folktale, but there were many other things to guard the village against. Bears, wolves… possibly even other hostile tribes coming to steal their fuel or food in the cold endless winters. Tribes were even known to take the children, maybe as slaves, maybe for other reasons.
When the men were out on the great hunt, or during the summer, if they were out on a trading expedition, and the women were tending the needs of the children and the elderly, it would be their job, her job, to guard the village, especially the children. There were many threats to the village, bears, wolves, and the ever present cold. They would take shifts. It was the only fair way. Sometimes they would watch during the day, sometimes they had to stand watch through the night, keeping the fire lit. keeping watch over the village.
A few months ago, it was Conwenna’s turn to keep watch through the night with two others. A dark winter storm was rising. Possibly the last blizzard of the winter. As the winds howled, and the night drew on, she began to get tired. Try as she might, she could not keep awake. Visions of the warm lands of the south came to her mind. Of great forests of trees that would sway in the winds. Of children playing among the trees, dancing with them, swinging from glittering chains that hung from the gnarly boughs. Dancing, and laughing and singing. The trees and the children all started running away, and she ran to stay with them, but she couldn’t. She sank into the hills, like wading through drifts of snow as the trees and the children ran across them unhindered.
She woke, far from the village in the wild storm. Through the fading gloom she cold see the torches of the men, returning from the hunt. But it was too late. She knew it was no dream, and the children were gone. They found her weeping in the snow, barely alive, her hands and feet were blue with frostbite.
Her tears turned to joy at their report. They had caught the wichtelmännchen escaping with the children, and they killed them all. None escaped. The children would be safe.
The next week, once she had recovered from her ordeal, the village shaman came forth, and questioned Conwenna and the two others about what happed. After a long process, he announced to the elders that there was no irresponsibility in her. Of the three who were keeping watch that night, she was the only one who was able to fight off the spell and try to save the children.
After a long council, the elders decided she should be sent with the men on the next trade ship. Perhaps her training would be useful, for the ocean voyages are no less dangerous than the howling winter nights. The other two would be put to hard labor, for they proved unworthy to guard the village.