3. Ashe's Ferrin - Dropping the knives.

Ashe's Ferrin - Dropping the knives.


  • Character - Ashe Ferrin
    Player - Jerrick Rafe

    In a beginning not unlike many others, Ashe was born into a perfectly middle class family, in a small amd modest home, with just enough to eat, and clean clothes to wear.

    A plain girl, she was not often remarked upon, nor stared at often, or addressed in any manner except by her family. Strangers gave her no second looks, and she was of course, the last person to suspect or accuse should anything go wrong.

    Ashe grew up realizing little of this, having been raised under the impression that children were not to be expected to be involved in anything with the adults, unless they were spoken to, such as being asked a question. Making herself scarce because of this managed to avoid ANY of those questions being asked, and as such, she remained a meek young girl, watching for the sidelines, and by the look of things, oblivious to the world outside of her daily chores and meals with the family.

    No goblin raids came to change that, nor did her home burn down, or any other sort of catostrophic misfortune. It was a trip into town that opened her eyes, while walking alongside her father, a basket of fruit balanced atop her head to sell. The one thing she knew that her family did not seem to realize, was that she had always had an uncanny knack for being agile, limber, even nimble and quick of hand. That was why when she saw a man juggling on the street for coin, she nearly had a line of people crash into her as she stopped abruptly to watch.

    Bright green eyes followed the movements, and even as she was tugged along by her impatient father, she was commiting the moves to memory, and they were attempted later in the day with the remaining pieces of fruit after a day of successful sales.

    "Ashe, if you throw that fruit one more… hey, where did you learn that?" her father asked after finally looking directly at what she was doing, at the exact moment she had mentioned to keep the fruit in the air for a couple of rotations, three pieces falling rhythmically into her hands, only to go back up again and resume their previous feats of acrobatics.

    Her father, always one to mention Tymora, muttered something about "By Tymora's t..." and was cut off by Ashe getting startled by something and dropping the fruit. To fill the space she asked a simple question. "Dad, who's Tymora?"

    A lession in religion later, and a profound curiosity for Lady Luck and her graces, the young lady was permitted to return to the juggler to watch him juggle other objects, this time, knives. Her father of course forbade her from doing that one, just yet at any rate, but patted her on the head, and told her that if she practed a lot, he would get her a couple knives to throw around someday, if that's what she wanted to learn to do with her free time.

    Sure enough, nearly a year later, anything of suitable shape and weight in the house that was not nailed down was being juggled, or tossed at a target she devised in her own mind, secretly congratulating herself on killing an invisible enemy each time, or ridding the land of rats the size of dogs, though she knew such things did not exist.

    The day she got the daggers, she played until she finally managed to cut herself a tiny nick, and the first of many, with the three small blades her father gave to her with a smile. Things remained calm and quiet in their city along the sword coast, as they were not terribly close to any of the major cities, or particularly nasty areas with things like monsters and bandits, but the reality of the world spread it's horrid reach, and knocked on the door to the Ferrin home one day out of the blue.

    Expecting another traveling trinket salesman, Ashe's father opened the door, with Ashe juggling her blades behind the table at the other end of the room, leaning back in her chair. She did not see the crossbow leveled at her father, nor did she hear the hushed conversation that went on until the eyes of the men turned to her past her father, and she heard "Her too" ...

    The father had been complacently agreeing to what the bandits asked of him, his gold and valuables of course, until they mentioned her. Give her over, or fight them and die, were his options, and they told him as much... but to a father, that's no option at all.

    He dropped to his knees, begging them please, Anything but her" but they laughed and patted him on the head when he sank down onto the ground, head down in a sob, thinking they had won already, and found a real weakling.

    A shocked grunt turned into a high pitched squeal, and was almost a full fledged scream before the breath left the bandit with his hand on her father's head, blood already coursing down from between his legs where a long dagger was held fast by a shaking fist, that pulled out and towards another of the bandits, even as the first one was dropping.

    "Ashe, RUN!" her father screamed as he attacked the second, managing the plant the dagger into a spot between two ribs as the second bandit raised an arm to fend off the attack, letting the dagger underneat and into his lung, making him cough a foamy bit of blood a moment after, while the third had lunged the rest of the way into the room.

    A sword glinted in the light, flashing out of it's scabbard, and the arc of travel towards her father seemed to take forever as she screamed, barely remembering picking up a knife and throwing it for all she was worth, and watching with a spreading joy turned horror as it buried itself deep into the attackers neck, and clattered to the ground as the man fell, the wound pumping out blood like an overflowing well after a rain.

    "Ashe..." her father's stunned words reached her and she smiled brightly, glad that her Dad was safe and... no. No! "No! Daddy!" she screamed, running to him as he fell onto his side, the crossbow bolt still protruding from his chest. That's why he had went down, she realized, why they had let their guard down. He was shot before he even got to retaliate... and now here he was, smiling, telling her to be safe, and take care of herself... find her mother if she could, and run, run anywhere, but find safety.

    He died with a smile still upon his lips, telling her not to waste this chance, and to go as quickly as she could.

    She did, and she never found her mother. Nor did she ever retrieve that knife, which is why she carried those two worn out and partically rusted blades that day into Norwick that the goblins attacked, and finally laid them to rest, replaced with blades suited to her skills, a gift from a new friend, and the start of a new life, with a purpose now more than just survival.

    Perhaps glory and renown may have to wait, but until then, simply surviving was not going to be enough. Here, she would thrive, she just knew it. It was that, or die, and she was not about to let her father down now.

    "Here I am Dad. Narfell. This is where I'll give it a shot. I won't forget about you."

    Thus beging the tale of Ashe Ferrin.

    Before she made it to Narfell, she worked odd jobs up and down the sword coast where they would have her, and learned a few things about thivery, the arts of trapping and lockpicking, and worked jobs on both sides of the law, both catching thieves and working with them, depending on the card she was dealt. Lady Tymora smiled on her so far, only time will tell the rest.


  • reviewed, xp pending