Hiram O'Shea
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Hiram, well… he had a nose for trouble. It was about two years ago that he once again prodded his cherry red olfactory organ in a kettle that served him a dish quite unexpected…
As always, Archdruid Kylian O’Cumming was working late. This time he was busy with a concoction to cure the brownrot that had befallen the Birches near the Yuirwood Glen. After a fourtnight of stirring and monitoring it’s color continuously, the brew was nearly finished, one final pinch of squashed toadstool stem was missing…
Kylian reached over for the wooden chest on the top shelf of storage tree, just to find it empty. Muttering about stock keeping being a task for the apprentices, he decided to venture outside the glen, looking for some toadstools nearby...
Meanwhile, Hiram had just finished his practice of animal empathy. The rabbit that was his charge, clearly had had a mind of his own, especially at the sight of chubby Hiram and his pet wolf, Ecos. He had been chasing it around and around the shrubberies. As a result, both had worked up quite an appetite. On his way to home, Hiram's well endowed nose flawlessly picked up on the new scent coming from the glen. Needless to say that they picked up the pace and soon arrived in an abandoned glen.
Drawn as by a magnet, he walked straight to the simmering brew that Kylian had left. “Hummm hummm, now tha’ll need a bit more” Rummaging through his pack, he found some Calendula Officinalis and without hesitation, threw it in the kettle, just as the old Archdruid returned.
Apalled at the sight, Kylian rushed over to the place of disaster, fidgetting with his bare hands into the broth to retrieve the yellow flowers, burning his fingers in the process. “By the Eyes of Mielikki, how DARE you Hiram?” Bellowing in sheer agony because of the emerging blisters on his fingers, he continued: “This is not the first time you’ve cooked mischief. I’ll have a grave talk to all the elders about what we have to do with you.”
At the end of the following morning, Hiram was called to the upper glen. He found all the elders in a circle. Hesitantly, he responded to the quick gesture of Kylian and proceeded to walk into the circle. He stopped cold when Kylian began to speak: “It is with great hesitation that I give you this task, Hiram. Go forth and find us the Emerald Sickle of the North. It’ll be necessary to restore the birches of Yuirwood.”
In an instant, Hiram’s head came up, beaming at the elders. But from their grave looks, he quickly realized that this task wouldn’t be easy to fulfill. Glad to get off the hook so easily, he bowed and dashed to his belongings. Kylian and the majority of the other druids let out a soft sigh of relief at his departure, yet Hiram didn’t notice.
It was years since that day now.... Yet wherever he went, there was no Emerald Sickle of the North. Slowly, as time went by, Hiram became aware that maybe, the Sickle had been a way for the elders to get rid of him. With that gnawing at his conscience, he found his way to Narfell. Feeling bereft of his heritage, he has joined the Gypsy Camp, together with his always understanding companion Ecos.
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Reviewed, XP pending
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Account: Rhistin
Forum: Rhisto
PC name: Hiram O'Shea
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