3. Bodan Aarz

Bodan Aarz

  • B

    From the Journals of Bodan Aarz, Priest of Helm, Order of the Watchers Over the Fallen

    Entry 1,743 – The day is bleak in the City of Splendours. A storm is rolling inland from the sea. Even now, the dull rumble of thunder penetrates the mighty stone blocks that surround me. Soon, the rain. My daily trek from the gates of the Southern Watch and down along the southern caravan roads was a quiet one. Me and my usual accompanyment of outriders met a string of traders about five or six wagons long not two miles from the wall and escorted them in the usual manner until they were safe inside. Though the rangers that guard me – some of Helm's most devout -- are ever silent the mood was sullen. Blame it on the weather. Perforating a few goblins or highwaymen always raises their spirits. Perhaps tomorrow.

    Entry 1,744 – I was right: today saw four goblins fall clutching at the arrows riddling thier bodies. Helm smiled on us this morning as another group of tradesmen pass through the vast gates of Waterdeep. Spirits are high among my entourage despite the rain that finally began today. Even old Silas smiled once, I think. We tried to bury the filthy little beasts we felled but the torrents came after we had only two in the ground. The others we dragged to the edge of the wood before making for the gates.

    Entry 1,747 – …Plate boots approach my barracks door. This citidel carries that sound so well. The monolithic bricks absorb none of it but reverberate up the stairs until the strides of one man sound like a whole troop. Even over the crash of thunder and the pelting rain at my window I hear the footsteps clearly. No, there is no sneaking about in the house of Helm. Though I write this as a memoir, I shall have no need of it to remember this place. My home. I wonder who would come at this hour? Has the ill weather brought me ill news as well?

    Entry 1,755 – I have said all the farewells and good-tidings that I can stand. One is never really cognizant of the number of friends one has made over the span of years at a place until it is time to leave them. As I write this the stablehands will be finished preparing my horse and wagon for the long, lonely journey eastward. I shall have just enough provisions to last until I reach my destination in the North. Yea, in the house of Helm planning is paramount even to the point that I will walk into Narfell with my bedroll, my clothes and simple personal effects, and what little money I own plus whatever the local cartwright will pay me for my wagon.

    Entry 1,830 – In this, the third week of my sojourn, I find myself wondering what I might have done in the incontinence of my youth, what long forgotten act of ignorance and recklessness did I commit to be judged and committed so by my beloved Helm? Others of my year were not ordered to endure hardships such as this. Why me? Why are my orders so abstract? Long am I from the comfort of my City of Splendours and with every step my ire grows. Inside, I know this is a test of my commitment, of my vigilance. I am no fool – I know what this journey symbolizes. But this realization only staves off the pain ever so briefly. Thoughts of Waterdeep come flooding back and then thoughts of friends whose hands I shall never take again and then memories of those who commended me into my current state of woe, thoughts of Helm. Dark thoughts. But I am weary. Perhaps I will feel better tomorrow. I will pray for guidance, forgiveness and redemption until sleep takes me.

    Entry 1,843 – My fifth week of travel. The road tortures me. The part I have already traveled calls to me, tells me to turn back, invites me and shows me images of Waterdeep and my friends… my rangers. Old Silas laughs -- actually LAUGHS -- and throws his arms around me as I once again enter those safe walls! The road behind tells me that it would not be shameful to turn around and go back... that it is not too late... that the Lord Watchers would be lenient with me. But I am no fool. I turn forward and the road ahead taunts me without mercy. Every new mile introduces me to some new ache and pain, some degree of discomfort surely reserved for those souls condemned to the hells. This test proves difficult. Perhaps I should turn around. Spending my remaining years scrubbing the citidel floors sounds like a blessing compared to this. Perhaps tommorrow I will make for Waterdeep.

    Entry 1,870 – I have entered the northeastern reaches of Faerun, the land called Narfell. It is cold here and my provisions have nearly run out. They should hold out until I reach my final destination: a town called Jiyyd. These are the wilds as I have never experienced them. I must admit that I am frightened here. I have been stalked by beasts for hundreds of miles and have not passed a soul on the road in days. If I were to be slain now only Helm would ever know it. I regret now selling my armor in Dagger Falls. The money I spent on the hot meal and warm inn room was nothing compared to the payment helm now extracts. This terror is the real price of my moment of weakness and gluttony. I have learned much in my journeys away from the comfort of cities – away from Waterdeep. I have learned discipline, restraint, and humility. No longer do I shed tears for what I have left behind. I fully accept my charge and should I survive the rest of the way I will do anything to fulfill what I have been ordered. Yes, after long weeks of maddening contemplation I now understand what I must do. I have been called to this wild land so that its people may witness Helm's glory by my action. I will lend myself to them in their times of need with no thought of compense except that I might eat and drink and rest in reasonable comfort. In this manner word will spread that the Watcher is not corrupt and we will counter the lies of Helm's enemies. With any luck I won't have my tired and bedraggled head cut from my shoulders as I enter Jiyyd, as I have been warned not to expect the hospitality of civilized places here.

    Entry 1,878 – So, now we come to it. Jiyyd lies less than five miles to the north by my reckoning. I shall spend the night by the wayside and rise before dawn. After prayer I will enter the city, sell my horse and wagon and commend myself to Helm's mercy. My new life begins at dawn. Helm give me strength.

    Character name: Bodan Aarz
    Account name: Bodatoda


  • Reviewed - XP Pending.


  • Good story, but I will require you to edit in your exact character's name and NWN account name before I can review this.