DUNGEONS & DRAGONS!
Me: Hazel, a 19 year old razor-claw shifter, class Shaman, level 1.
– This is written before my first game of D&D, if something doesnt match the world of D&D, or something is odd, dont blame me. Not yet. –
My name is Hazel. I am a shifter. A razor-claw shifter to be exactly. 19 years ago I was born in the Winterbole Forest. I have lived there all my life, with my family and the rest of our tribe. My brother Ash and I have always been competitors. My father always expected more from him than from me, but I never thought it was fair. Just because I was a girl, and he was a big, brave and fierce boy didn’t mean I couldn’t serve the family just as good. My brother always had a dream about becoming an avenger. Just like our dad. Me, on the other hand, didn’t know what I wanted to be. I was just a kid. That was then. Now, things were different. I had left the tribe. I had to. It was the Raven Queens plan for me, and this is my story.
Since the fall of Nerath, the dangers in the forest increased, and many shifters, including our tribe had to move closer to the human and elf communities. At this time, I was 15, and my brother was 17. My brave and strong big brother. A week before we had to move, our tribe had a visitor from the elf tribe in the city. He was one of the eldest ones son, and was visiting to prepare our own eldest for the big change that would meet us once we moved from our well-known forest. It was early in the morning, and my brother was out hunting as he often was. He had heard someone scream of pain just near the waterfall, and when he arrived he saw the elf being attacked by a big brown bear. My brother, the brave one, had started running towards them, getting the bears attention drawn away from the elf. Silly city elf, he didn’t know anything about the forest. What was he doing out there anyway? The bear had turned around and went for my brother instead. My brother had fought against him, and the elf hadn’t been helping at all. It was inevitable. The bear was a full-grown bear, and my brave brother wasn’t even 18 yet. My brother died that morning. In the forest. 1 hour away from me, who was sleeping and didn’t know a thing about what was happening. The elf survived.
After this, my family and my tribe were even more eager to move closer to the humans and the elves. Everyone was, except from me. How could I live in the same city as the one that caused my brother’s death? How could I possibly ever walk past him without feeling the urge to fight him, and see him dead? It was not fair that he could live, while my brother couldn’t. If the elf hadn’t been out there in the forest all by himself that day, my brother would still be alive. We would still have the same stupid fights and unagreements around the dinner steak, and my father would still yell at me for being so jealous at my brother. But just because of this elf, my brother was far away now. I would never see him again, or share a meal with him ever again. It was my job now, to make the family proud. And the only way I could do this was by killing my brother’s killer. He deserved to die just like my brother died. And that was my goal.
I had heard this rumour among the other youngsters in my tribe. 10 days away from our old tribecentre in the forest, it was another tribe of shifters. I had heard stories of this powerful shaman that could control every animal spirit he came across. Apparently he was old, and his tribe wasn’t of the friendliest one. I could risk a lot going there; the shaman could already have passed away. Maybe they didn’t like unknown visitors either, but that was a risk I was willing to take. I was going soon.
A year after my brothers dead, I packed a small package with some meat and cheese, and left. It was early in the morning and no-one was awake yet. I couldn’t tell anyone, they would most likely not let me leave. They would have said it was too dangerous. If it had been my brother, my parents would have bought him a brand new spear, with the best wishes and maybe even a follower to help him. But not with me, I would always be the weak girl in the family, but I was about to change this view. I was out after revenge, and in the end my family would be really proud of me.
After nearly two weeks in the forest, running, hunting and running some more, I found them. At first it was just a suspicion. I had been walking through a forest where the grass was shorter than usual. There were some broken sticks here and there, and once I was sure I could hear some voices far ahead. I continued travelling through the forest, and the small hints that said that someone had been there earlier, were around me more and more often. I was starting to get tired of being all alone, but when I thought about my mission, it was worth it. One morning when I was about to wake up under a tree, I was sure I could hear voices. And I was correct. When I opened my eyes there were four spears pointing at me from every direction. My story could have ended there. But it didn’t. I managed to convince them to bring me to their tribe. They weren’t positive, but since I was a girl and all, they decided that I couldn’t be that much of a threat to their little tribe. For some reason this tribe refused to be more civilised, they meant that they could handle the forest and the dangers that followed. And so far they were right.
Once I came inside their little village, I asked politely if there were a shaman around. Big mistake. They all started yelling and talking to each other in a language I couldn’t understand, I almost thought it was the mistake of my life, that they would kill me just for asking. But then I heard a voice behind me, and I turned around. Even if I never had met the shaman earlier, I just knew it was this guy once I saw him. The shaman saved me that day, he didn’t know who I was, and he could easily have refused to talk to me. But by some reason he didn’t, instead he brought me to his home and gave me a bed to sleep in. The following days I learned to know him, and him to know me. Finally one day, when we were sharpening our weapons, I told him why I had come this far. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t tell me to leave either. So I stayed. The shaman took me as his apprentice, and I lived with him for several months. One day his tribe had decided to leave. They could no longer hold up their defence against the forest and the dangers that raged around. Many people disagreed, but it happened. They moved closer to a city on the other side of the forest, but not me and the shaman. He meant that if it were just the two of us, we could easily live in the forest, hunting and practicing my shaman skills. So we did. It was hard times, and it was good times, but the time passed by and I got stronger and stronger every day that came. It was a good time.
Today, I am 19 years. I haven’t seen my family since the day I left. My teacher, the wise shaman is dead. He was old. I put him on a homemade raft, with leaves and flowers, and sent him down the river. He is probably watching me this very moment. He and my brother. I have started my journey of my own. I don’t want to return to the city where my tribe lives. Not yet. The elf can wait, I need more experience. I need to learn everything about being a shaman first. Queen Raven wants it that way. I am on a journey, and it has just begun.