Tok, Three Feet of Halfling Fury

Young Tok was born in the Chondalwood, homeland of the Ghostwise halflings, to a proud father and mother on a cool, breezy autumn night. His eyes, a golden yellow, were a rarity among his tribe, and were taken as a good omen.
He grew up running through the forest around his camp and playing at being a great warrior with the other young boys of his clan, all hoping to one day be able to go on a raid against a passing gang of orcs or hobgoblins. However, whenever he asked his father about the battles, he simply shook his head and sighed.
" Someday, when you have a few more winters on you, you'll know the truth of battle, son," He would say, then smile and ruffle Tok's hair. Tok, as the young do, took this as the talk of one who takes a great thing for granted. Unfortunately, Tok was to learn the truth all too soon.
Soon after Tok's 10th birthday, disaster struck his clan. It seemed a lazy summer's day, with very little work being done by anyone when the screaming erupted, followed by guttural laughter. Tok's pointed ears perked up. He peered out worriedly from his lean-to along with his mother and father. And witnessed a nightmare.
Orcs, too many to count, spilled through the trees, staining the wood with the blood of any who stood in their way. Tok stared, open-mouthed, wide golden eyes taking in every detail as the orcs hacked their way toward his lean-to. With a battle cry, his father flung himself into the fray, and was pierced through the throat mid-leap by a black-feathered arrow. As Tok watched his father cartwheel through the air, reddening the ground with his life's essence, he learned his first lesson about battle. Death is random and indiscriminatory. It comes to all: good, evil, cowardly, and valiant. His second lesson was learned when his mother made a small burbling sound from behind him. He turned and saw her, staring down, confused at the blade protruding from her chest. While the blade withdrew back into the hand of its foul grinning master, Tok realized that the time to throw away your weapon is when you start to enjoy using it. His third and final lesson was learned as the orc stepped over his mother's corpse, grabbed him by his hair, lifted him in the air, and slit his throat from ear to ear. There is a blade somewhere for all who fight with their name on it.
As his eyes glazed and he flopped to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut, he remembered the small vial around his neck. Given to him on his 5th birthday, it was a symbol of his clan's connection to the land, and filled with water said to come from the heart of the Chondalwood. With his last strength he removed the stopper and gulped it down. A feeling of peace washed over him, and blanketed him in merciful darkness.
When he awoke, he did not at first recall what had happened. The corpses around him, hin and orc alike, served as an adequate reminder. He through back his head and screamed his sadness, rage, and frustration to the now star-laden sky.
A cool wind ruffled Tok's hair as he gathered all the unbroken weapons from his fellow tribesmans' bodies. Quietly he slipped out into the forest, and vanished for a time from the recollection of the forest.

Two years later, a small band of four adventurers wandered idly through the Chondalwood, following a map they had gotten from nearby Luiren to a supposed ruin, hopefully ripe with unspoiled treasure. Their chatter was interrupted as a small form launched itself from the trees, onto the back of the leader, a human fighter. After a quick struggle, the small creature was thrown to the ground and subdued by a sleep spell from the party's mage.
The little animal was in fact, Tok. Having lost all traces of civilization, which was already scarce among the Ghostwise barbarian tribes, he had degenerated to little more than a beast, living on instinct and surviving on whatever was readily at hand. The party, unsure of what to do with a feral halfling child, bound him and carred him, snarling, to a nearby Hin Fist monastery in Luiren, hoping the monks there would have some idea of how to deal with him.
Most of Tok's first year there was spent in a cell, as he was thought to be too dangerous to be left on his own. No one seemed able to reach whatever was left of his humanity. At the point of despair, the monks sent one of their number into the Chondalwood to find another Ghostwise. He reemerged three days later, a Ghostwise halfling in tow.
Using the telepathic communication all the Chondalwood tribes are gifted with, he was able to get through to Tok, not the animal he had become. But along with his mind, Tok also received every memory he had so carefully locked away. The next two days of his life were spent in the depths of depression, desperate to find some order to life. And that is when his training began.
The monks filled the void in his life with hard work, discipline, and hour upon hour of martial arts. Tok took to it like a bird to air, and practiced his forms to the point of exhaustion every day. For many years, Tok was happy with this simple routine and life. He started to pay homage to Yondalla, in hopes that she would protect other families from the fate of his. He even tattooed her holy symbol on one wrist, and the symbol ofthe Hin Fist on the other to show hisdevotion to each.
Still, not all his wild traits could be erased. Small mannerisms still broke through. Growling when angered, cocking his head when curious, and sometimes he even managed to lay his ears back. Nor could his scar be erased, stretching from ear to ear, commemorating his worst day. The monks simply accepted it as part of who he was though, and took it all in stride.

All was well, until Tok's twentieth birthday. He himself did not know it was his birthday, being unsure after his madness, but he felt something nonetheless. An itch in his feet that no matter what he did, he could not seem to scratch. When he shared his problem with his fellow monks, they simply grinned widely and told him he had wanderlust, to which the only cure was a good amount of time on the road. Seeing his course was set, Tok bid farewell to the monks, gathered his few possesions, and began his travels. Thus far, they have led him up north to Narfell.

Character name:Tok
NWN Account name:HalflingRogue

Vilehelm

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