The Ice Crusade
-
He was born in Cormyr, land of light and nobility. Arabel was a teeming metropolis and home to his parents, and now himself. They were reasonably wealthy - his mother's family was well-to-do and his father a Paladin of Torm. Commerce thrived, the city was safe and laughter filled the streets. But that was all past now. The first rumors of betrayal and rebellion came before the goblin army arrived. When it did, those who did not escape to Suzail were cut down in the streets. His father, together with fellow Paladins of various faiths stayed behind to defend the city and buy time that others might escape. Numbered in the hundreds against an army of thousands, their doom was inevitable.
But Galen saw none of this. Squired at a young age, he was sent away to Tethyr, the birthplace of his father where he was to train to become a knight. He grew well to adulthood, his limbs straight and true. He was neither tall nor short, thick nor thin. Dark brown hair, like his father, his eyes the blue of his mother. He was always a solemn child, given to occasional, surprisingly mature spurts of humor. The rigidity of his training ingrained in him the formal manner he still carries to this day.
He was in his late teens when word of Arabel arrived. The city's fall and his father's death were weeks past when he heard. To the surprise of his superiors, he did not beg to rush off and fight the goblin army and avenge his father. He simply continued his training, albiet with greater intensity than before. And when the time came, he did not ask to be sent to Cormyr. Instead, it was Narfell, a region distant and rugged. The edge of civilization. Had anyone asked, he would simply say he felt it was in such a place he could best do Torm's will.
The trip was long and arduous. In the final days he felt cold as he had never known it before. He simply put on thicker clothing and adapted. Until the final approach to the city of Peltarch. There was not room to dock, so the Captain sent his passengers and trading goods ashore by way of a longboat. In his greed, he overloaded the small vessel and it tipped. Galen's armor and weapons, wrapped for ease of travel during the trip fell overboard, sinking swiftly to the bottom of the cold, cold water. He fell in also, and after one attempt to recover it realized it the water was both too deep and too cold. He left his gear and scrambled for shore.
"And here I am," he said with a rueful smile to the sailor with whom he shared a drink. "A paladin with no armor, no sword and barely gold enough to buy either." He snorted derisively, shaking his head.
"Well, could be worse eh? Coulda been you done drowned. Water's farking cold this time of year!"
"Aye, you speak truly. It will be as Torm wills, in the end."
"Well, good talkin' to ya. Gots to be back on me ship I do!" The sailor dropped some coin on the bar and rolled to the door in the peculiar gait only a seaman has.
Galen sighed as he watched the man leave. Then he took a deep breath, his face brightening. He had seen a square of sorts in town as he came in. A gathering place, it looked like. He'd ask there and get some directions to an armory and see if his luck might change. After all, it would be as Torm willed, in the end.Account name: Tanin_Valdar
Character name: Galen Caeren
-
Reviewed - XP Pending.