Tales of Achar: PC: Jarid Wolfblade

Player: Ed

Class: Ranger 4 / Sorcerer 1

Gender: Male

Race: Half-elf

From the journal of Jariid Wolfblade:

My father, Jordan Wolfblade, met the dwarf Crona Kaleth during the Great War. Every war seems to be a "great war", but personally, I don't see what's so great about any war. A pack of were-rats had descended on Crona while he was injured. If not for Jordan and his army, Crona would not be alive today. Crona owed my father a life-debt as his dwarven honour dictated. But the bond grew to be much more. They had became friends and brothers-in-arms. Both my father and Crona were fierce fighters and both held honour as an ideal to an absurd level.

After the War, Crona and my father became bounty hunters - hunting down criminals and monsters of all sorts. In some foolish way, both had some misgivings about collecting rewards for doing what they considered good deeds, but the necessity of living brought their high ideals to a more earthly state.

The adventures of the human and the dwarf became tales told around countless rounds of ales in taverns across the land. These tales grew with each retelling until they took on a life of their own.

My mother, Arriana Illseilwood was one of few elves who were pre-ordained to protect a magical elven relic in Vilyamar. To prepare for this sacred task, the Chosen Ones had spent their entire life studying the ways of magic.

Like all of the Chosen, Arriana was born with a special gift for magic. She had the innate abilities, but lacked the discipline and the desire to be a magic practitioner. But as a chosen, she had duties and obligations. Since childhood, she had been forced to countless hours in the. Locked away in ancient libraries while she longed to travel the Land. But as fate would have it, she would be born and died in Vilyamar. Despite her disdain for studies, she was a good student and appreciated the nuances of magic.

Arriana was just traveling back to Vilyamar from studying in one of several libraries when she was attacked by a pack of wild animals. Jordan and Crona came dashing up and fought off the beasts not knowing that Arriana was more than capable of defending herself. Nevertheless, that was how my parents met.

Jordan and Crona accompanied Arriana back to Vilyamar, and Jordan decided to stay. After Jordan and Arriana wedded, Crona left and returned to his Dwarven home, Zâraminbar (Lockhorne).

These events were told to me by Crona, for I have no memory of my father. He died while I was still too young to remember anything. All that I carried of his legacy is the family sword, which has a wolf head carved in the hilt. The Wolfblade as it was called had been in the family for generations. It's a masterwork sword, but has no magical properties.

The elves had never liked the decision that one of the Chosen had decided to marry a human. But when Arriana talked of leaving Vilyamar to travel with my father, the elves were in an uproar. Never in history has a Chosen abandoned her responsibilities.

The circumstances surrounding my father's death were fuzzy. But when some magical beasts attacked Vilyamar one night, my father died defending a crowd. Where these beasts came from and why they attacked remained a mystery that was never solved. Perhaps that's why Crona suspected foul play, but he could not substantiate his suspicion.

Ever since my father's death, the push for my mother's study became more rigorous. Part of her welcomed it as it provided an escape from her mourning. Eventually though, she came to hate her discipline more than before. She became withdrawn and reclusive, so much so that when she disappeared from the Elven community, no one noticed for weeks. When someone finally became aware that she was missing, they searched for her for months, but no trace of her was ever found. Eventually, they presumed her dead.

I was born after my father's death and I was raised by my aunt, Ajerla - my mother's younger sister - until I was fifteen. I had some of my mother's gift for magic, but I wasn't trained in the discipline nor was any training offered. I was allowed to partake in some lessons on archery, but eventually, I had to practice those lessons on my own. I had few friends. Most of my time was spent alone in some nearby woods…taking solace in the peace and away from prying eyes that were filled with either pity or contempt.

When my mother disappeared, my aunt sent me to live with Crona who had been requesting to train me in the art of battle since my father's death.

Life in Zâraminbar was busy and pleasant and Crona treated my like his own son. I felt accepted by the community where I've made several good friends. Even though Crona preferred the axe, he trained me in the usage of assorted weapons-particularly with the sword. Every now and then, he would tell me stories about my father minus the usual embellishment he would give to other tavern buddies. I can tell that he misses my father very much. I wish I met my father, and I miss my mother. But every once in a while, I felt as if she is watching me.

As years go by, I grew more inquisitive of my gift in magic. Crona could not offer any help in this area, but neither did he forbid me to study it. In fact, despite his feelings towards the elves for how they treated my father, he encouraged me to embrace my elven heritage. So much so that when I proposed that I strike out on my own and live in the elven forest, Crona did not disapprove.

It is so that on my twenty-first year, I left Zâraminbar and became a ranger in the northern parts of Vilyataure (Forest of the Sky) in between the land of the elves and the land of the dwarves. From time to time, I would visit my aunt and Crona, but for the most part, I have come to accept my solitary life.