Hoot Ruthgar's pointless scribbles

[Savage]

*Speaking to the thin air of the morning after another sleepless night*

I think I laughed today; it was the first time in a long time that I didn’t fake it. I thought it noteworthy. I was going to give Aria a piggyback over a stream but I slipped and fell into it. When I finally righted myself, I turned to help Aria cross but she was already on the other side. I asked if she had gotten wet when I fell and she said, “No, I just walked across you back.” I don’t know why this made me laugh but it did, perhaps it was the joy of being useful if even only as bridge over the mud.

*Listening to nothing for a moment*

Aria? She is a merchant’s daughter looking to come into her own power. She is a friend I have traveled with from time to time.

*The air speaks again as he listens*

That's preposterous...

[Savage]

*A scroll case filled with tattered papers and leather patches lies in the fire on top of the slowly burning embers at the Inn in Isnhold; the owners name can still be seen carved into its side: Hoot Ruthgar*

*Among them a letter that has burned the bottom off and only moments away from being totally consumed by the fire*

Good sir, Ruthgar,

I am writing to you as one who shoots an arrow in the dark. I send these words without hope of them reaching you, and without hope of them being fruitful. I remembered the story you shared with me, and found it interesting. Which brings me to the point of this letter. For I have news that may well be of interest to you.

You see a moon ago, Rack-Shaw, and I where exploring a crypt, when we encountered a menacing dwarf that aimed to separate us form our belongings. The dwarf was a very difficult foe as he called upon undead servants to press my commerads and me. Indeed his minions did slay several we traveled with. However the dwarf found himself victim to Rack-Shaw’s axe.

Among his possessions was found a journal that chronicled his foul deeds as his service to Bane. The tome appeared to be his ledger of service as if the dwarf would find favor in the after life by referring to the works listed in its covers. Among the foul works listed was an entry about his attempt to steal a ring to offer his foul god. He tells of the irony that he enjoyed turning the woman who possessed the ring against her own people as an undead. The story mirrors the one you told and I believe this dwarf be the one you spoke of.

The dwarf is dead. The minions that severed him dispersed upon his death and where not seen again. I do not know if your betrothed was among them. I offer only the location of the crypts where we found the dwarf.

*The remaining parchment burned beyond recovery*

[Savage]

* Sitting by the water the others, sleeping around the camp fire, Hoot, looks into the eyes of a fish he managed to catch. *

A pack ox? She called me a pack ox? Proves my point does it not? *Asking the fish the question. *

* The fish look back at him without expression. *

First, I ask her what a man like me could offer such a refined and educated woman and do you know what she had the audacity to answer me? * Looking at the fish expectantly. *

PROTECTION! * Exclaiming loudly enough that the others rustled on their ground cloths. *

Protection. * He said again, whispering to the fish. *

* In a demanding, yet whispered tone he presses the fish for answers. * Does she think me the biggest fool? Does she think I will scurry about with her from town to town, buying her gifts, carrying all the heavy stuff, and standing between her and the very few creatures she doesn’t manage to flash fry to a crisp, for that kind of return on my affections?

* Shaking the fish. * A pack ox? Protection?

* Holds the fish to his ear, listening a moment, then blurting out in a flustered manner. * Manipulating me! Now you think I am the fool too do you? * Slaps the fish on the ground. * I know that I am keen on her but not to the point that I would become that easily manipulated.

* Fish stares blankly at him. * Yes, I give her gifts, but that is because I enjoy it.

* Fish stares blankly at him. * Yes, I sometimes, I pay for her room at the Inn’s.

* Fish stares blankly at him. * No! She doesn’t let me stay in them because she is a lady.

* Fish stares blankly at him. * Yes, I know, I do follow her into dangerous places. But it seems I can find those without her. * Images of he and Maxwell Kelter charging Bane Clerics pop into his head for a moment.*

* Fish stares blankly at him. * Hmm, She would follow me; some place if I pressed her.

* The cruel fish continues to stare. * She would, too!

* The fish continues to stare, unflinching. * Fine then, I will prove it. I will prove I mean more to her than a pack ox!

* The fish motionlessly, seems unconvinced. * How, about a sewer? There are large sewers in the city of Suzail.*

* The fish mocks him with its silence. * You wait and see. I will take her in to the sewers of Suzail, and if she follows me then it will prove she cares for me. It will show she is willing to endure the worst type of places just be stand by my side.

* Hoot, grins and turns to look at Aria sleeping.* Yes, the sewers.

[Savage]

Hoot, raising his sword over head and bringing it down with all his might, an earth-shattering blow that would cause evil itself to flee before him. However it would not be so. The enemy resisted the blow easily and without making a single move to avoid it. Frustrated by its lack of effect he swung again this time with more anger and passion. The foul beast did not move at all as the swing swish by. Hoot however nearly fell to the ground with the force of the swing and the unexpected miss. Over hearing a slight chuckle he turned his sword quickly around to face this new enemy that had closed behind him.

“Balance!” Lauro said, “Balance. If you can’t keep ye feet the mighty swing will do no good.

Hoot returned his focus to the formidable foe and swung his sword again at the training dummy. He began to feel foolish for asking the old weapons master to give him tips on his fighting style, or lack there of. Hoot, had never formally trained in weapons. He always had a knack for using them, but what skill is needed when your primary tactic is to simply swing as hard and as fast as you can. Admittedly he was feeling a bit less than powerful in combat of late. He had seen mighty dwarf Kyrion wield his weapon with certain skill. He had also seen Wynter brutally assault a Zenthil scout using only her hands for weapons. Her style was quite remarkable. In that same battle Hoot, had seen a true warriors technique a skilled swords man, the paladin Maxwell. Then in the mountains surrounded by trolls he saw the mastery of a weapon and the application of skill as Lauro attacked every troll that surround him in single sweeping attack. Even the lady Liadan possessed more style and grace with a mace than he. All these example of combat had left him with a certain doubt. Sure his sword arm had held him thus far, but he feared it would not be enough. He doubted himself and he need to test his skills against these styles. It was Kaleb who he trusted first with the task. Asking the mercenary to spar with him. Hoot was sure that he could match man and ever felt as thought he could best him easily. But that was not the case. Hoot’s over confidence lead to a sudden and stunning thrashing from Kaleb. It was a wake up call for him. Strength, speed and rage would not best a solid fighting style. Is was for this reason that he asked Lauro to give him guidance. The kind old man took time to teach him of the sword. Little did Hoot know he would also get a lesson in life. A lesson he was thankful to learn.

“Thank you, Lauro for teaching me.”

[Savage]

The fade out…

It had been a good day as any day spent with her was. He was ready for danger. Well, almost ready, almost ready for anything. Walking through the Royal Griffon he scanned the room looking for someone to share the joy he felt. A joy he had not felt in a long time. The Inn was strangely empty even at this late hour. That alone should have set off alarms, but his mind was where the minds of most men his age are, and he thought only to see her again. Picking us his pace he moved out the door with hope that he might tell someone of how wonderful his day had been.

The sound of a scream caught his ears and snapped his focus on the situation at hand. A man stood before him dressed in black armor, and a towering shield. Cryptic runes spun around the man in an eerie green. The dark man was easily a foot taller than Hoot and more than twice his size through the chest. Hoots mind, as it always does when he sees someone for the first time, began to sum the man up for his worth in battle. In his calculations the dark man more that tripled him, and as such his instinct was to flee if this man became hostile.

Hoots eyes then darted to rest of scene with horror. Bodies lie on the ground cleaved cleanly of limbs and heads. He immediately recognized some of them and it was in that instant that the anger leapt into his heart, but his senses reacted just quickly to fight for control of him. It was in that instant the Hoot hesitated. It was in that instant that he turned to run for his life. He picked up one foot to make the first step toward safety but it seemed to move strangely slowly to his mind which raced to understand. The step allowed him a glimpse around the dark man to see that he had a victim lined up for the kill. His glowing red sword raised in the air ready to strike. Hoot’s eyes leapt from the dark mans sword to its intended target and there she was. Maybe his panicked mind was playing tricks on him maybe it was someone else. It had to be someone else he just left her inside, how could she be out here? Regardless he saw her. His heart leapt to his throat and he yanked at his sword with all his speed but it was not enough. The hesitation, the step, it was the all the time the dark man needed to bring his sword to bear. The red sword fell. It fell slowly as if time stood still. Hoot watched helplessly as she turned her face from the on coming blade to look him in the eyes. The blade split the skin on her fore head just below the hair line and traveled through the bones separating one eye from the other, easily snapping the wireframe of her glasses. He watched helpless as it ripped through her nose and continued to split the teeth in the front of the mouth shredding her jaw and those lips. The tongue reflexively sought to push back the intruder but simply split into two upon the blade and became as forked as the snakes. The skin, tissue, bone and blood gave way to the hideous face underneath. The face that haunted his dreams for the last three years, that of his betrothed. The hideous woman gasped and reached for him with an out stretched hand adorn with a simple silver ring, with leaves decorating around the band. Out of the horrid mouth came a loathsome haunting plea.

“Protect me.”

No other events from that night, after that moment exists in Hoots mind. There are no memories of a single thing that happened. Only the images painted from the tales of horror he later heard. He was told that he drew his sword to bear on the dark man but he was stuck down with a simple skillful move. He also heard that when he had risen from the ground where he fell he began a frantic search for her. He was calm and collected on the outside but his mind burned with flames, flames he could not contain. The rest is history now, without hesitation or second thought Hoot joined the attack, marching at the head of it, repeatedly being chastised by Maxwell to stay with the charge…

[Savage]

Naked!

*Kyrion Rhek, chastises Hoot for his for his part in the tragic assult on the Zenthil Strong hold. *
[Wed Jan 03 22:10:07] Hoot Ruthgar: You didn't see the peple murdered in the streets.
[Wed Jan 03 22:10:32] Hoot Ruthgar: You didn't see the blood fall on the Giffon's welcome mat.
[Wed Jan 03 22:10:35] Hoot Ruthgar: I did.
[Wed Jan 03 22:10:36] Kyrion Rhek: Hoot...
[Wed Jan 03 22:10:49] Kyrion Rhek: I did see them murdered.... more than needed t'be... because of you....


* After, those words where imprinted on his enternal soul Hoot sets his sword and shield on the ground as Liadan approached him. *

[Wed Jan 03 22:11:55] Lost Item: Bastard Sword +1
[Wed Jan 03 22:12:00] Lost Item: Tower Shield +1
[Wed Jan 03 22:12:09] Liadan Amaethal: What the...what are you doing, Hoot?
[Wed Jan 03 22:12:11] Hoot Ruthgar: Give these to Kyrion if you would.
[Wed Jan 03 22:12:23] Adelius Draken: They're done...

* After walking out of Isnhold's east gate, he came to stand beside the river *


[Wed Jan 03 22:16:42] Hoot Ruthgar: *picks up a rock and throws it into the river*
[Wed Jan 03 22:17:05] Hoot Ruthgar: *breathing heavliy with a cross between fury and tears*
[Wed Jan 03 22:17:37] Hoot Ruthgar: *throws another rock into the river*
[Wed Jan 03 22:18:04] Hoot Ruthgar: I cannot carry a sword.
[Wed Jan 03 22:18:24] Hoot Ruthgar: *looks to the sky*
[Wed Jan 03 22:18:30] Hoot Ruthgar: My life quest be done.
[Wed Jan 03 22:18:41] Hoot Ruthgar: Take me now.
[Wed Jan 03 22:19:07] Hoot Ruthgar: You see that by wielding a sword I only bring damnation.
[Wed Jan 03 22:19:26] Hoot Ruthgar: Maybe,She would be alive if had not taken up my fathers sword.
[Wed Jan 03 22:19:54] Hoot Ruthgar: Maybe, Aria would like me for more than protection if I didn't have the sword.
[Wed Jan 03 22:20:04] Hoot Ruthgar: Kyrion is right.
[Wed Jan 03 22:20:12] Hoot Ruthgar: My temper is unyielding.
[Wed Jan 03 22:20:24] Hoot Ruthgar: But it has been thrashed upon the rocks.
[Wed Jan 03 22:20:57] Hoot Ruthgar: I need give up this fools dream to become more than a Barbarian out of the woods.
[Wed Jan 03 22:21:18] Hoot Ruthgar: Do I need to strip off thse fine garmets they are not me.
[Wed Jan 03 22:21:35] Hoot Ruthgar: Do I need to quit living a lie.
[Wed Jan 03 22:21:50] Hoot Ruthgar: *tears off one of the arms on his shirt an throws it into the river*
[Wed Jan 03 22:22:28] Hoot Ruthgar: *tears off his other sleave*
[Wed Jan 03 22:22:53] Hoot Ruthgar: *Begins to unlace his boots*
[Wed Jan 03 22:23:05] Hoot Ruthgar: *throws them into the river*
[Wed Jan 03 22:23:28] Hoot Ruthgar: *throws the other one into the river*
[Wed Jan 03 22:23:49] Hoot Ruthgar: *finially thows the whole shirt into the river*
[Wed Jan 03 22:24:03] Hoot Ruthgar: *looks up facing the rain*
[Wed Jan 03 22:24:15] Hoot Ruthgar: Is this how you would have me be.
[Wed Jan 03 22:24:28] Hoot Ruthgar: Need I live in a tent and hunt only wolves.
[Wed Jan 03 22:24:49] Hoot Ruthgar: Need, I die as my father.
[Wed Jan 03 22:25:40] Hoot Ruthgar: *falls to his knees the tears comming more quicly now*
[Wed Jan 03 22:25:50] Hoot Ruthgar uses item's special power.
[Wed Jan 03 22:25:53] Hoot Ruthgar: PC Emote Wand : What would you like to do?
[Wed Jan 03 22:26:23] Hoot Ruthgar: Tempus! What would you have me be!
[Wed Jan 03 22:27:02] Hoot Ruthgar: No answer...*spits into the river*
[Wed Jan 03 22:27:32] Hoot Ruthgar: Fine then Tymora will you not answer me?
[Wed Jan 03 22:28:14] Hoot Ruthgar: Am I to only wear animal skins
[Wed Jan 03 22:28:51] Hoot Ruthgar: Am, I to return to my place
[Wed Jan 03 22:29:20] Hoot Ruthgar: I do not want to carry my fathers sword anymore.
[Wed Jan 03 22:30:14] Lost Item: Flamberge
[Wed Jan 03 22:30:53] Hoot Ruthgar: *moves in to the woods as others approach.*

* The search party scans the woods, these are the highlights*
[Wed Jan 03 22:43:35] Liadan Amaethal: Hoot Ruthgar, by all that is holy, what in the Nine Hells have you done with your clothing?

//OOC: The rest of this is very well played by Aria, Adelius, Liadan, and Kyrion. Anyone intrested I have the log and I can send it to you but I don't want to take up to much space here. And if you where there you know what happened. *

* After feeling guilty for following Maxwell, and foolish for walking away, and stupid for tearing off his clothes, embarred for wearking Liadans tunic, his companions thrashed harsly for acting as like a child, and he deserved every moment of the torment.*
Trying to argue his rage, passion, and emotion to the keener intellect of those who based thier reasoning on logic and wisdow. *

[Wed Jan 03 23:33:41] Aria Blake: How much of a difference will you make dead in some barfight over your emotions?
[Wed Jan 03 23:33:48] Aria Blake: think on that my friend.

* She turned to walked away from him *

[Wed Jan 03 23:34:05] Hoot Ruthgar: How much difference will I make dead on a battle field.
[Wed Jan 03 23:34:12] Hoot Ruthgar: Or at the foot of a two story tall giant beatle.

* He watched her walk away from him *

[Wed Jan 03 23:34:23] Hoot Ruthgar: I love you Aria.
[Wed Jan 03 23:34:29] Hoot Ruthgar: But I don't think I can follow you.
[Wed Jan 03 23:34:53] Hoot Ruthgar: *pulling the tight pants out of his but cheaks and turning to face the river*
[Wed Jan 03 23:35:43] Hoot Ruthgar: How can I follow her river.
[Wed Jan 03 23:35:47] Hoot Ruthgar: Her way is the sword.
[Wed Jan 03 23:36:00] Hoot Ruthgar: And the way of the sword is death.
[Wed Jan 03 23:36:12] Hoot Ruthgar: But how can I not follow her.
[Wed Jan 03 23:36:20] Hoot Ruthgar: For she it the way of the heart.
[Wed Jan 03 23:36:31] Hoot Ruthgar: And without the heart there is death.
[Wed Jan 03 23:36:42] Hoot Ruthgar: So either course I take leads to a kind of death, now there is only choice.

* He bends over to pick up a rock to throw in to the river ripping the seat of his pants *

[Savage]

*Homecoming*

*A glimpse back in time, attempting to return home to give his betrothed's family the news.*


"Lo, there in mist, before me do I see a sprit, tell me sprit, are you a man." The voice that called out to him was a hunter for Hoot's clan.

"Lo, there before you, it is a man. It is I. Hoot … Hoothaniar, son of Ruthgar." Hoot answerd planinly.

"Step forward, so that I might see you for myself." The man looked Hoot over skeptically. The hunter stepped forward and poked his finger on Hoot to test if he were indeed real. This ritual always made Hoot feel foolish and this time it was even worse.

"What trick is this sprit, for I am Bulkavard, I knew Hoothaniar from child hood, and you are not him." The man stated, continuing his assessment.

"Where is Hoothaniar's, beard." Clasping his hands on Hoots shaven face.

"Where are Hoothaniar's, hides." Slapping him on his metal breast plate.

"Where are Hoothaniar, foot furs." Pointing at the worked leather boots.

"What kind cleaver, be that?" pointing to the bastard sword, Hoot carried.

"Why, sprit should I believe that you are Hoothaniar?" the hunter asked.

"I present you my fathers sword." Hoothaniar said, realizing as he said the words they must have sounded forgien to the man and thus hurt his claim.

"Lo, there, before you I stand with the sword of Ruthgar." restating his words and slowly withdrawing his father’s sword from the pack.

The barbarian looked over the blade and back at Hoot and considered for a moment. “Come, Hoothaniar, Follow my feet to the house of Bellar, So that your quest here will be swift.”

Hoot blinked a moment. He was unwelcome. He knew this for the other man did not did not say, “Come brother.” The other man also did not offer his communal washing bowl. Hoot learned quickly that the sadness of the events involving him had impacted the community harshly, but he was not around to witness it because he had left so quickly to give chase to his betrothed. Hoot learned that the council of elders, in order to quell the rising sadness and anger among the clan, called forth the truth sayer. She had read the bones and determined that Hoot, was a splinter in the bark of the clan. Admittedly, he always had been a bit peculiar. The truth sayer explained to his clan that this all happened because if Hoot was allowed to marry he would have eventually split the clan. The gods didn’t want this and so they killed his bride and cause him to leave them.

His hopes for a joyous home coming dashed, he left the next day, with out a place to call home. As he traveled back to Isnhold he wondered to himself why he was in hurry, traveling late into night and waking early. Then it became clear to him. He was in hurry because he wanted to get back home.

[Savage]

*Kaleb Killgrin, relay’s to Aria Blake a conversation that he had with Hoot Ruthgar. Kaleb asked that Aria, keep these details in her confidence, but felt she would want to know. Hoot also more comfortable around Kaleb, lets his guard down and speaks more in his native way*

Hoot, what is wrong with you?

Have your feet ever walked so far, in one direction that they did not know how to walk another?

No, but, what does that have to do with anything?

Me and all my Kin before me, have been delivered unto the life quest. When your feet reach the end of this life quest, they step in to the tracks of another. When, my feet lead me back to Isnhold, I thought I understood the life quest they followed but I was mistaken.

What mistake?

Lo, there she was the trail and my feet walked to her, my sword, and my shield where hers, but it was not so, my feet had followed the will of my heart, not the will of her heart, nor the actual path of my life quest.

What does this have to do with you laying down your arms?

When, I followed my feet, which followed my betrothed I carried the sword of Ruthgar, my fathers sword. The sword I laid down was not the sword of Ruthgar it was the sword of Blake.

I don’t understand.

My father taught me to use the proper tool for the task. He said to me.

“Lo, there son, a bullock uses a sword to skin a wolf, boy, use the dagger.” If he wasn’t saying that he was saying. “If your quarry be the bear, the weapon be the trap, not a pale of water”.


*seeing that Kaleb did not understand Hoot explains it this time trying to use proper common. *

My father’s sword was the proper tool for the quest of the betrothed, the bastard sword and shield where the proper tools for my walk with her.

Oh, yes I see. But, it wasn’t her sword it was yours.

When, I first felt her steps on my heart, I was following my feet which followed hers, which lead me to be struck by a heavy blow. She said a simple thing. You should carry a shield it will help you protect yourself better. Of course, she meant that I would also be better able to protect her as well. She was right and from then on I carried the sword of Blake, the bastard sword and a shield. I carried them for her.

So, you laid down your arms because of a woman.

No, you see, when Kyrion, put the death, of the kin, in Isnhold on me. I realized that the sword carried by me was not the sword of Hoothaniar, It was the sword of Blake. That is why the sword would yield no good works. So I had to rid my self of it.

What?

*trying rephrase it in a way Kaleb would better understand*

It became clear to me, that I cannot carry that burden. I can not be HER sword and HER shield. Lo, I can be no mans shield or sword save my own. It was true when I lost my betrothed, and it is true now. I am guilty of making the same mistake twice.

So you are not going to take up arms ever again?

I laid down only the sword of Blake, because it would not serve me any more. It became as the pale of water. I will carry a sword again, but it will be the sword of Hoothaniar, I need only find it. I will carry arms to protect me. To protect those I can, when I can, and to protect the clan of Isnhold, because it is the only home my feet have left.

So your arms are only for defense?

No, my feet will lead me again to hunt the creatures of evil that plague this land, so that one day peace will rest on the clan of Isnhold.

So, you won’t attack the Zentharim any more?

Lo, there my words have deceived you. Brother Kyrion’s words speak to me, brother Lauro’s words speak to me, as do hers. They all say, Hoothaniar take up your sword against evil, and bring it to bear upon the wicked that you can slay.

And they are right.

They go about fighting the bear, in the bears cave because they know he sleeps and show no teeth for them. They do this as the wolves circle their house and stalk their kin. When, was the last time the bear, or the Hill Giant attacked Isnhold?

*before anything else could be said they encountered a nasty looking pack of Ogre's bent on Bashed Brain Stew*

[Savage]

*Kaleb Killgrin continues to, relay’s to Aria Blake a conversation that he had with Hoot Ruthgar. Kaleb asked that Aria, keep these details in her confidence, but felt she would want to know.*


Why did the Zhentarim Champion come here looking for you?

I besieged his soldier’s camp, but before I explain that, let me speak to the steps the feet have taken to get me here. The first encounter I had with the Zhentarim was on the way to check on an estate to the South and West of town. Several Zhentarim fighters attacked my companions and me that day, completely unprovoked. We walked up the hill and they attacked us. I didn't even know they where there until their arrows hit the ground near me. The next encounter I had with them was when their Champion Angus, hunted Adventure's who had attacked their camp. This was something I was not apart of and kept my feet out of. Then nearly four rides had past and I had my next encounter with them. I walked out of the Inn of Isnhold and found a man, clearly a Cleric of Bane, was murdering the innocent. I moved to stop him and so my feet brought this event into my path. I did not seek it. After that attack, I asked many where the cleric came from and no less that four kin did speak the words to me the man was from the Zentharim strong hold. Maxwell, lead an raid aimed to kill the cleric but it failed. They sent their Champion and the rest you know.

And your attack?

When, Kyrion spoke the words to me that the Zhentarim had declared war on Cormyr, I sought other kin to speak these words also. No less that six kin also spoke those words to me. I could not find words of it on the Message boards in the Inn, in any City. I was not sure if we where at war or not, however I did know that to get to the cleric I would need to thin their ranks. So I began attacking the Zhent soldiers and disguising the attacks as if they came for our enemies. Such as one attack I staged to look like Gnolls, the next Hobgoblis, the last Ogre's. I did this to protect Isnhold from retaliation for my actions. I also went on the raids without anything that could be tracked back to Isnhold, and I lead the raids from the North so that if they where tracked back it would not be to Isnhold. I loaded the bodies into the ox drawn wagon a took them away and burned them.

He, found you anyway?

Indeed, for Angus came to Isnhold to look for the Adventures who had attacked his soldiers camp, though he did not run about killing the innocent. He was attacked on sight by the city guard and a elven noble man and they where the only one’s hurt that day. When he asked who had attacked his men, I feared he might attack the town, I told him it was me, and I waged war on him not Isnhold. He asked me why, and I told him that I would cut through his men until either I die or they give up the cleric that murdered the innocent and that day, the one who attacked me. He claimed that no cleric of his strong hold had attacked me or Isnhold and that was not his men. I said that he lied and I knew the man to be there. He asked for my proof and I told him I only had my witness of the events. He called me a liar. He also said that if I believed the Banite was there come and claim, him when I am strong enough to best him and his strong hold.

He also told me there was no declaration of war on Cormyr, he said that in fact a treaty had been signed, which states that if adventures attacked the Zhentarim then he would hunt only the guilty adventures and anyone who attacked him. He asked if I intended to abide this treaty. I told him, I would but only until I was strong enough to come and get the cleric myself. I also told him that if blood need be repaid for his men in the camp it would be mine, but he didn’t take me. That being done he left.

So what now?

My feet have found my path, the cleric of bane is harbored by the strong hold, and this I saw with my own two eyes. However, in trying to get to him, I endanger, Isnhold, so my feet will not provoke the Zhentarim until I am strong enough to best the Champion of the Zhentarim.

How, do you plan on doing that?

By, preparing myself for it. I will practice my sword until there is skill in my swing and control in my rage, I will seek out those whose skill is greater than mine that I might learn from them. I will practice on the evils that I can slay.

I hope your right, but at least you seem, more calm and controlled today.

Yes, my mind is clear now that my feet follow the right path.

What will keep them from going off the path again?

I must remove the temptation.

What temptations is that?

The will of my heart and my loin.

How will to remove those?

I will bury the one and satify the other with a single act.

How?

I will take a woman into my bed that I might know them.

You have never been with a woman?

I was almost married, not married.

[Savage]

The scene played it self out in his head, the step to flee, the red sword, her face and he is snapped awake. The cool air chilling his body wet from his own sweat. Pulling his ground cloth and blanket around him tighter he rolled over to face the fire. Try not to think about her, he told himself but his mind went over his words again "I formally withdraw my request to court you." and going over her words, "request accepted without broken heart". It had been much harder than he thought. The long speech he had prepared in his mind lost within the loss of the moment and he was unable to speak it. He was too tired to speak it. The sight of her giving Maxwell, a pleasant kiss and a playful "Behave" also leapt to his thoughts, she had managed to forgive him quick enough. "He is Tormish, they are Banite, I understand why he did it.." she had said. Forget it, he told himself, but his mind would not relent. I made my case to her, I explained that it could have been her the Cleric was attacking that day and that I could not suffer to loose another to the hands of a Banite. She did not hear my case, she choose not to hear it. Why do you whip youself for this? This whole affair is one sided. One sided, she cared for me, didn't she? No, you only saw what you wanted to see, not what was there, Now quit dwelling on it, there are other women in Isnhold, Redmist, and Suzail. You think highly of more than a handful of them, maybe one of them would have your affections. No, I want no more steps of a woman on my heart, thier feet hath claws and my heart need time to heal completely. I am haunted by the thought, that after 7 years questing to right the wrong of a Banite, the very moment I able to begin to feel joy again, another Banite comes and smashing through it all. Will I not know joy until all who serve bane are destoryed? It occurs to me that my entire life could be spent in the pursuit and punishment of Banites, instead of the pursuit of happiness, which is exactly what would please bane. So will you forgive this Banite his trespasses and let it go in pursuit of happiness, or will you quest to destroy this one as well. It seems that, I must do both and find the balance Lauro spoke of. I find his to be wisest wisdom of those who speak the words of wisdom to me.

[Savage]

Hoot kneeling in front of the stacks of golden lions that lay out on the floor of his room in the Inn.

*Holding his hand over the first stack he speaks with a soft hushed tone*
Lo, there lions of gold you came from clearing the roads and caves to south of town.

*Holding his hand over the second stack he continued*
Lo, there lions of gold you came from the Ogre grush.

*Waving again his hand over the third stack of coins*
Lo, there lions of gold you came from the bandits near Mistwood Forest.

*And continuing with each stack until each had been spoken over then all*
Lo, there lions of gold you came from the walk to the Castle Crag.
Lo, there lions of gold you came from the walk back from Suzail to Isnhold.
Lo, there lions of gold you came from the Goblin Camp.
Lo, there lions of gold you came from the Ettins Caves.
Lo, there lions of gold you came from the Gnoll Lair.

*Holding out both hands over the entire collection*
Lo, there all you lions of gold you where rescued from the clutches of evil creatures.
Lo, there all you lions of gold I would have you used for the good of others.
Lo, there all you lions of gold I beseech Tempus blessing upon you so that only good will come of you.
*Bringing his hands together kneeling in prayer he places a holy symbol of Tempus upon the gold*

Lo, there Tempus I beseech you that this effort go not in vain and that the she be protected from any harm, though she is not a child yours.

*After the prayer he quickly gathered each stack into a leather bag, which stretched under the weight *

He reflected upon the coins which where the result of almost two rides of constant work and toil. This was certainly the most money he ever held position of at one time. He wanted to buy better armor or shield to protect him but he could not. This coin was raised to possibly help protect another. This money was raised so that he could start sleeping again. This money was to pay for peace of mind.

[Savage]

Following Adelius’s advice Hoot decided to speak to her. He knew that in doing so it would be the end of the last hope he had held on to. He decided to speak to her anyway because he was ready for what was next. The conversation went exactly as he knew it would. He was special but not the one. There was no future for them other than that. Having already buried these feelings Hoot accepted it calmly. “I can love her as brother.” He told himself repeating the words not entirely sure why he felt he need to. When one path ends another begins. That is what he was taught. That is what he wanted to believe.

The bitter sweetness of freedom came to him. Sitting alone in the fancy suite he washed his hair and soaked in the cool water. After bathing himself he washed his finest Tunic. Once his clothes where dry he laid them on the floor and pressed them flat with the blunt edge of a dagger which had been heating in the glowing coals of the fire place. After pressing and ironing the garments he dressed in them paying careful attention to every detail. He wanted to look perfect. His armor laid neatly along side his tidy pack from which he drew a short knife. He sharpened it with several quick strokes quickly honing the blade for its purpose. Leaning over the bath water Hoot examined his reflection. Moving the hair from his face he tucked the bangs behind each ear. He took up the knife and placed the blade at the base of his neck. A slight smile slowly appeared on the reflection. Then Hoot slowly and purposefully shaved his face.

[Savage]

//The begining of a short series of posts on Hoot's past.

//born 1350 unless my understanding of the time line is off…
A brown and white owl beaconed to the woman to bring forth her son. The owl called to her “Who” “Who” as if to say who do you bring to the Silent Valley Clan. The father of the infant paced nervously outside and stopped when heard the owl. He saw the brown and white-feathered bird perched atop the fire word setting next to the family’s hut. “Hoot”, it cried, “Hoot”. His father repeated the bird saying the name Hoot, with a frown. He wore the frown because Hoot was not a proper name for a son of his people. The man pondered silently for a moment and tugged as his beard. A newborns cry broke the silence of his thoughts and the man opened the bearskin door of the tent and pride he proclaimed. You will be called Hoothinar son of Ruthgar.

[Savage]

//Hoot sometime between six and eight years old
Hoot watched his father turn pale white. He watched as his father’s eyes drift from eye to eye contact with the warrior to look away from him. It was the first time. The first time in his entire life that he saw his father fail to look another warrior in the eye. It was the first time he saw his father ashamed. The barbarians where uniting and as they did each clan sent its bravest warriors to help reclaim Mithral Hall. It was considered the highest honor to die and in battle and to be told to stay behind and provide for the women and children was a tremendous dishonor. Although Hoot’s father was a strong and well respected hunter and trap smith he was not a very large man did not command the respect of the other warriors.

[Savage]

//Hoot eleven years old
The darkness subsided as his vision slowly returned to him. Shaking his head and snorting viciously he shrugged off the heavy blow of the other boy’s fist. The other boy was Bulkavard a brute and a bully from Hoothaniar’s clan home. Although Bulkavard was nearly two hands taller than Hoothinar the other boys in his clan wailed and cheered as if they where watching Bulkavard fight a giant. This was a great sport for the boys and had become one of their favorite past times. They enjoyed this sport and often took turns choosing who would get to fight Hoothinar this time. There was no shortage of takers because Hoothinar was a late bloomer and easily the smallest boy his age in his entire clan. They knew also the boy would not back down from it. He would not turn away or run. They young warriors knew they had only to mentions Hoothinar’s father to get him to fight. They leapt upon him every time they managed to discover him alone and out of earshot of the other kin. Although Hoot always fought back he lost each and every time. Bulkavard landed another punch this one finishing the fight and dropping Hoot to the ground with a broken rib. Hoot lay on the ground a moaning miserable sight. None to eager to get back up he simply rolled to his side and let the cold snow numb his aching side. After some time lying there alone he heard footsteps approach he laboriously rolled to the other side and caught sight of an old woman with a walking stick approaching. The old woman spoke softly and quickly asking Hoot if he would live. To which Hoot said only that he was fine and would manage himself. The old woman reached into her pouch and said she had just the thing a small boy like him would need. Her hand emerged from the pack and passed him a book. All you need to know is written somewhere in a book, its up to you to learn and understand the words.

[Savage]

//Hoot fourteen years old
It was early in the summer and the snow melted off the mountains and caused the waterfall to flow in earnest. After rushing through his chores he found time to sneak out to his favorite spot. He tried to sneak off without being seen but was not successful and that is how it was that Bulkavard and the other young men who ran with him laid in ambush. The scene played out as it had over and over. Hoot asked Bulkavard and his grunts to leave him in peace. To which Bulkavard replied by goading him with insults about his father. Which as usual lead to a spirited charge into the group. It might have been a relatively light beating this time except for the fact that Hoot had grown a bit that winter and was getting stronger and faster. This time he managed a lucky blow and bloodied Bulkavards nose. The boys replied to this by renewing the beating beyond the point they would normally stop. When they left him this time he coughed and spit up blood. Stumbling weakly he made his way down to the base of the waterfall.

She hid behind a bush where she could watch him easily without being seen. She watched as he removed his shirt and revealed a great number of bruises and minor cuts some weeks old others fresh from today. She peeked out of the bush to watch him walk to the water and wet the cloth in the icy cold stream. She saw him flinch as he placed the shirt on his face. He took a few deep painful breaths he steadied himself upon a boulder. She ducked down and hid while he looked around to make sure no one saw him. Then he reached behind the rock and under a log to remove a watertight leather bag. From the bag he pulled a few medicinal leaves, some cloth bandages, and a small torn and tattered leather bound book. The deep breaths stirred his injuries and made him cough up an in appropriate amount of blood. She watched as he went pale and she screamed when he fainted back on the bolder.

As he slept she gently nurtured his wounds. She had managed to roll him off the boulder and on to soft ground. She elevated his feet and placed a bandage on the cut at the back of his head where it had struck the rock. She collected the rest of his medicinal supplies and put them back into the pouch. She hesitated, taken by surprise, when she saw the book. Slowly she turned the pages and looked in turn at each sketch Hoot had marked. The book and the boy who had it fascinated the girl whom known one more winter than he had. She knew of course what a book was but she had never had one; never held one. She, like Hoot could not read the words in the story. She placed the book back in to Hoots pouch and put it back under the log where Hoot hid it. She left him sleeping there to recover and as she walked away Hoot opened a swollen eye and caught sight for the first time what would become his betrothed.

[Savage]

//Sixteen years old
It had been a long bitter winter, which allowed only a few hours of daylight with which where barely enough to finish his chores much less suffer a young man to journey far. Hoot longed for the return of summer. He longed for the return of the refreshing mist of the falls and the delight of daydreams that came with the pictures in his book. Mostly he wanted to see his best friend again.

When the blizzards of winter finally broke and granted him a few more hours of daylight, he could hardly contain his joy. Working quickly he finished his chores by midday and snuck off to the waterfall. Walking through the little market where his kinfolk traded their winter crafts, he caught sight of her and upon her his gaze was helplessly fixed. Not watching where he walked he tripped over an oak chair and bumped into Bulkavard causing the brute to spill some of his midday stew.

Hoot quickly picked up his pace and left the area while Bulkavard fumed and fumbled and whipped his hands on his furs. He was no more than a stones throw past ear shot of the clan home when Bulkavard and the others cut him off on the trail. The scene unfolded as it had some dozen or so times the year before. The boys goaded Hoot and he let himself slip into the fight.

Hoot eyed them waiting to see which would face him first. This being the first fight of summer he suspected correctly as Bulkavard moved forward and threw a fist at him. Hoot felt the difference with that first throw, the fist moving more slowly than he remembered. He found himself able to predict them and avoid more of them. The first few that landed did so without tremendous effect as his instincts rolled with the blows and soften their impact. Shortly in to the fight the moment came. An opening presented itself acting on instinct Hoot landed a solid blow to Bulkavards right eye. Bulkavard staggered and Hoot knew that he had finally beaten him. All he had to do was act swiftly and it would be over. The fighting and the torment would end. He would no longer be the boy’s sport. He would no longer have to spend long hours recovering. He would no longer need to lie beside the waterfall. He wouldn’t need her to tend his wounds. There would be no reason for her to come and take care of him. No reason for them to look at the book and ponder what it all meant. No reason to make up fancy tales to explain the sketches inside. No reason for her to see him at all. The fight lasted longer than any other as Hoot tried to make a good show of it. Bulkavard also made the fight linger to show he would not be bested. When it finally ended Hoot wasn’t even able to make it to the waterfall before he sank to collapse. Just as he did she came up from behind and caught him helping him the rest of the way.

[Savage]

The words still haunt him...

[Wed Jan 03 23:36:42] Hoot Ruthgar: So either course I take leads to a kind of death, now there is only choice.

The party has gone well and no one was killed. Strange how quickly plans can change. One small fact revealed leaves two more questions unanswered. It is simply a mystery that I am somehow even slightly involved in any of it.

His hand trembled with nervous excitement. He knew this moment would come and he was not sure he could go through with it. His stomach churned and ached it was not nerves it was guilt. When he started this plan he knew it would cost him his integrity. He just didn’t know how quickly that cost would come and how deeply it would affect him. Still he prepared himself to do what he must. To say it was going to be only duty would be a lie, but to say he would do it without duty would also be a lie.

[Savage]

//Hoot seventeen years old
She turned the page and slowly began to trace the sketch with her finger. Hoot knew which picture it was even though he didn’t see it. It was the picture of the Knight kissing the fair maiden. It was her favorite page. Hoot had noticed that on days when she studied this picture they would kiss nearly twice as long as on days she did not. However there was something different this time. Something was wrong. She closed the book slowly as if it might be the last time. She turned and looked at him and he was struck off guard and unprepared by the tears that flowed down her face. He knew at that moment it was the beginning of the end of a fairy tail. She went on to tell him of the problem. She was older than he by one year and she would be of age to marry. When Bellar returned he sought to strengthen the clan through childbirth. The laws set down by Bellar were very clear any woman who was not claimed by a husband before her nineteen year would become a pleasure maiden for warriors of the tribe. She broke the news to Hoot that Bulkavarad, son of Bellar and another man, a cold and vile war veteran had come to her father and made offerings of marriage. She explained to Hoot that she would marry one before she would be sent to the warrior’s pleasure tent. The law was clear and Hoot was left with only one choice. He was not yet proclaimed a warrior, as he was instead the son of trapper. So he lacked the authority to challenge either man for her hand. Hoot began training that day. He began plotting a way to get what he wanted. He began to put his fathers teaching in to practice as he set traps. Hoot didn’t choose the weakest warrior because he didn’t want there to be any who could dispute his claim. Hoot learned the desires of a number of the different pleasure maidens and went about doing small tasks to gain their favor. Once that was done he. He collected on the favors by having each pleasure maiden to throw herself upon the warrior Hoot planed to fight. They did their job well and seduced the man with much ale and a long nights of pleasure for nearly four straight days. The next day Hoot challenged the drunken warrior early in the morning. Although the fight had not gone as smoothly as he had hoped, his plan to wear the man down by seeking to prolong the fight as long as he could eventually worked and Hoot bested the man with out even cutting him once. Hoot then worked to learn the weakness of both the vetran and Bulkavard. Hoot learned of the Vetran’s gambling problems and caused him to loose a bet that forced him to withdraw his request. Leaving only Bulkavard to face. The betrothed brought both Hoot and Bulkavard a large basket of well-prepared foods as an offering of good luck to them the night before they would fight to settle his challenge. Hoot knowing Bulkavards weakness was for food he made sure she prepared a unique combination that would ensure an upset tummy. Although the fight was a little harder than Hoot had expected in the end the activity turned Bulkvards insides in to the real battle. Once he was bested Hoot claimed his betrothed and set about making wedding plans instead of battle plans.

[Savage]

//OOC: If I misspelled you Character name please PM me so I can fix it. Also if I left a PC off the list please PM me so I can add them. See this is what happens when you are board at work and all your server's are running correctly. *waves to Little Lotte* Also feel free to leave me feedback.

*During Hoots planning he reflects on those he knows and those he trusts and how many have changed as time has passed.*

Changes. Everything does. Everyone does and does not. My time here has been short and even I see the constant change. I don’t know why but I feel more at home and at the same time more uncertain of this place.

When I arrived Isabelle would not think to adventure and was content to be the social center for us all. Now she seeks the thrill of a good hunt and the spoils of it. I can’t blame her we all want to do our part to push back the monsters of this realm and see what ill gotten treasures they have that we can reclaim for the our own good and the good of those we serve. I am proud of her.

When I arrived Kyrion was Kyrion. A dwarf to be reckoned with, one whose fierce determination to protect us all helped us to learn to protect ourselves. When we made a mistake he would point it out. Yet he remained as fierce and loyal a friend as any could hope for. He has been the steadiest rock. I guess it is true that elves and dwarves are more steady because of their longevity. If anything has changed the least it is he. I am proud of him.

When I arrived Lauro lived only to wail upon the armies of darkness until he could one day return to his beloved wife and children who has passed before him. For him love was something in the past not the future. His wisdom in battle and life has been invaluable to me. His wisdom eventually won over his stubborn heart and he has also realized he is still young enough to love again. It takes courage to face another broken heart. I am proud of him.

When I arrived Adelius was the lining up to be an enemy. I remember his battle with Marn. I remember thinking I would be crossing blades with him before it was said and done. I remember Aria dragging me away and keeping me out of the business, which was not mine at the time. I remember confronting him at the table in village green. His only words where “Leave me in peace.” He has changed but those words seem somewhat prophetic now. He seems quite at peace in his self-imposed solitude in Dhedluke. Seeking I think redemption for those he made suffer by helping those who suffer there. I now count him as one of my closest friends and his commitment to his self appointed duty is commendable. He can speak the words of love and his heart without distain. His love does not waver and he has begun to enjoy life. I am proud of him.

When I arrived Liadan was the common moral glue that held us together. She was the pride of Lathander and stubbornly determined to redeem Adelius even when the rest of us felt she was wasting her time. She held fast to her beliefs and her faith did prove effective but not nearly as effective as her love. It was her love that changed Adelius. It was her ability to love even those who did not return it that I always found inspirational. It is her greatest strength and her greatest weakness. Even she knows this, and yet she still allows herself to love the wicked without fear of the weakness. I realize now, strong love can change a person. I realize it is a power that makes her a target for those opposed to it. Friend and foe alike have besieged her and she handled it better than I could have. I am proud of her.

When I arrived Aria was a shy girl, somewhat scared and timid in a big world. She hid her fears behind a mask of confidence and a shield of wit. She protected herself with a sharp tongue. She has grown into that confidence and carries it without pretense. She speaks her mind and commands the respect of those around her because her words while brutal are always honest. She is rarely in the wrong. She is the kind of friend who will tell you when you make an ass of yourself and wont pull any punches doing it. It always hurts when she corrects you because when she does you know you actually deserve it. She has changed. She is not the girl I feel in love with she grew beyond that into a woman who holds little to fear and causes her enemies to fear her. I worry about her because I don’t want to loose the girl to the woman. However I know that is only for my own selfish reasons and now I strive to embrace the woman she has become. I am proud of her.

Old friends give way to new and new give way to old as the number of people I call kin continue to increase in my new clan home of Cormyr.

Aren Moonbolt is something of mystery to me.

Belori a fair merchant and a good elf. He is becoming more friendly and useful all the time. I look foward to speaking to him again.

Brak proves dwarves are good for more than just swining an axe.

Chrysthania is a comrade and we have much in common. I sometimes feel like there is a connection there but I doubt I could be that lucky. She will always be a sister in arms. Maybe someday I can command her respect as much as Helgrin does.

Meri always has the best cookies and matches my own slightly disturbed since of humor. I am fond of mini Hoot.

Celith and Deldur I only now in passing but they can’t be all bad if Meri approves of them.

Corbin Ashby is a fearless druid who challenged Angus Meritas at my side. I know little more than that of him.

Dorenee is the essence of bitter sweetness. How can I enjoy someone so much knowing that only conflict and strife lay in the future. For now we both have a lot to gain from a relationship and a lot to loose. Will I be able to do what must be done? Am I the moth or the flame?

Entori continues to grow and command a better control of the weave and like me has an inquisitive mind.

Feanorre helps me when I need it and always greets me with a gold smile.

Fristen is another one of those finger wigglers that can summon up a whole log of whoop-ass with a snap of his fingers.

Helgrin. He is one timeless dwarf. I must find a way to get to know him better for more reasons that just a new suit of armor.

Hayline is an interesting person. He is a very proper gentleman. I think I could learn more than just manners from him.

Kanneth is a fine man and I have enjoyed his company. He gave my woman a good ride... Er... I mean a her gave her a pony.... Er... I mean a horse. He gave here a horse. Hmm... Maybe I can get a good ride from him?

Kain and Kelric I don’t know either one but I have seen them in passing. I think both are either Purple Dragons or squires. Will need to get to know them a little better eventually.

Jerico has returned I don’t know him much but he takes the time to speak to me. He makes a fine example of what a Knight should be.

Lunitari an interesting woman who hails from a clan where women rule and men serve mainly as breading tools. I want to visit this clan some day if only for a little while.

Lydia this dawn bringer certainly caught my attention the other day. She is steady and worth getting to know better.

Maxwell is a paladin who struggles a bit with the right way to seek the justice his faith demands. His heart is in the right place and I can trust him to watch my back in a fight.

Manshin is one ugly monk. I like him though he is hard in a fight and seems an honest trustworthy sort. Time will tell both. He calls me Choot. Everyone has a cute nickname for me.

Mezereon is quite possibly the most talented elven bard I know. Her songs calm my spirt and bring me peace.

Mynian Copperhand I can’t say enough about this one. I don’t know why but I find I trust her guidance and her advice. She could easily be my biggest mistake or my greatest friend. I wonder where this relationship will lead. I know it will be some place interesting and I will enjoy the journey.

Onisha also a mystery to me. Something more to investigate.

Quindar a fine archer and a finer freind. He has earned my respect.

Ranah I haven’t seen her in a long time. I was just thrilled she didn’t kill me in Suzail when we meet.

Sharaita I know her more by reputation that acquaintance. I am quite sure we will end up crossing paths in a least a number of ways in the days ahead. I need to get to know her more simply because I don’t trust her, yet.

Sillanthis I am unsure of. I do not know which side to put him on. I do know however that I respect his sword skill as it was made apparent recently.

Tamourna is a battle harden warrior whose blade I respect. She is always good in a fight.

Torgeir is an imposing giant. A young proud barbarian who makes me wish I came from his clan instead of my own.

Torian is note worthy aquaintance. The first non-business words she ever spoke to me were. “I don’t like you very much.” I cant’ say that I blame her I haven’t really given her a reason to like me yet.

Wynter is a gifted warrior and her fighting style is unique. I think she can be a very cold and she seems to put business first and nothing second.

Yven what do I say about Yven. I want to dislike him but I can’t. He is a good man and as much as I hate to think about it he is a decent match for Aria. I never had much use for the duty bound honor types. Maybe he can be what I could not.

Yulena is an intresting woman. I was hoping to get to know her and Kelric better at the party but it didn’t work out. I will get to know them all better eventually.

Zakhary Shepherd seems to be a good man. I don’t know him very well but Liadan trusts him and that is something. Isabelle adores him and that is also something. I haven’t been given a reason to trust him or not. He looks after Liadan and wants to keep her safe and because of that he at least has my respect.

Zaebros is a powerful wizard I know even less about. I will keep my eye on him. He helped Adelius and that is something worthwhile.

Zashieda is a refreshing woman. She is smart and polite and a pleasure to have around. I find her customs charming. Hoot only hopes that Hoot does not offend Zashieda to much.

Zoghtiger is a bard who lives at the foothill of our dreams.

[Savage]

//Hoot seventeen years old
It was only four Tenday’s after defeating Bulkavard and it was already the day before his wedding. As was tradition in his clan Hoot’s father and his betrothed’s father worked with Hoot to create a winter hut for the couple to live in. After it was completed they would be married and spent their first night together in their new home. The rest of the clan busied themselves with the usual happy arrangement that go along with a wedding.

Hoot walked with his soon to be father in law to his fiancé’s families hut. As they approached they heard a scream form inside. Rushing to the house they burst inside. Their heavy foot steps having revealed their approach. They found themselves face with a dwarf who held wielded an axe over his head ready to strike at his betrothed. The dwarf wore a black helm that was adorned with a black hand on the ridge just above the eyes. The dwarf demanded the men let him leave and took Hoot’s betrothed as hostage.

The dwarf bound her hands and threw her over a donkey and began to make his escape. The dwarf claimed that once he was gone he would release her. The dwarf wanted only the fancy ring Hoot’s mother had given him to use as an engagement ring. Hoot did not want to let the dwarf go but his betrothed’s father demanded he do as the dwarf asked.

The dwarf and his hostage moved down the road as Hoot ran to his own families hut and retrieved his father’s sword. He set out after the dwarf and was meet on the road by a number of warriors from his clan. Each prepared to face the dwarf. The party set out and caught up with the dwarf the next day. Their approach was revealed and the dwarf quickly cut down Hoot’s betrothed. The warriors with Hoot at their head rushed the dwarf but before they could reach him, the dwarf called on dark magic and raised the dead body of Hoot’s betrothed. The body moving with out its own free will came between Hoot and the dwarf. Hoot hesitated he was unable to act, unable even now to attack his betrothed. The warriors each waited for Hoot to act. But no action came from him. A moment later the dwarf was invisible a second after that the dead woman standing before him also faded into invisibility. Thus beginning the chase that would change his life forever.

[Savage]

//Hoot eight teen years old
Traveling down the road he had not chosen. Dragged along by circumstance. A simply boy form a hard but simple place. The only place he had ever known. Tired would be an understatement, but he did not know how tired he would get. Uncertain would be putting it mildly. Doubt lead to thought of desertion from the quest. Thoughts that disgusted him but thoughts that came often. How long now? How long have I been on the road? Eight months? Nine? Counting on his fingers he lets out a sigh when he ran out of them.

He knew which way they had left and so he blindly followed the road to the next town. Every hamlet and Inn just was the same as the last; he was always just a few days behind the sightings of a dwarf and his cloaked and mysterious companion.

Did he talk to the right people in that last hamlet? Had he missed a turn? Missed the clue that would lead him to her? The chance piece of the story that would give him the break he needed to catch the dwarf and his undead guard. Hoot had just left a hamlet where tale was told of a dwarf and his mysterious cloaked companion. He heard how they came to town. How they asked questions to various people. Then eventually meet with a wealthy merchant, minor noble man, or some corrupt guards men. Every hamlet was the same and everyone they left behind a dead person and heap of confusion. Hoot had to learn to be careful in his questions. Asking questions about those who just committed a murder was not something quickly overlooked. Hoot had been lucky so far. Learning a few lessons the hard way.

Hoot had begun to put together a picture in his mind. The dwarf was a servant of the Black Hand. When people asked the dwarf would tell them he was named Rack-Shaw. The mysterious companion never spoke and never gave out her name. Hoot began to learn the ways of the Banites. To learn their doctrine was strength. He assumed that the dwarf was simply besting those he could to move up the Banite ladder by killing those who where ahead of him.

This time however Hoot learned something more. He learned where the pair was headed. He learned that short route was closed by winter weather and so the pair had to take the long road. This was Hoots chance. He was familiar with cold weather travel and set off down the short road in order to get ahead of them. There on the road he laid in wait for them.

[Savage]

//Hoot the next day.
The trap was set and Hoot waited. Up the road he heard them approach. He readied his make shift spears and lay covered by leaves clutching his fathers sword. He was focusing on breathing slowly and softly when a thought entered his mind. One he didn’t expect. He realized suddenly that he had never actually killed anyone. He had never hunted anything with only two legs. He had no doubt in him that he would kill the dwarf and his cloaked companion. No doubt. No doubt at all. Hoot was not sure why but this fact made him melancholy. He would not hesitate. He would not linger. He would strike and strike swiftly, with out remorse but possibly with a hint of regret. Shaking his head to focus he put the thoughts out of his mind.

The donkey the dwarf led stepped into Hoots trap killing it instantly as a tree limb slammed several spikes into its side where the dwarf should have been. Hoot never saw or even suspected the large Black Panther was behind him. Just as his muscles tensed to spring upon his victims the cat sprung upon him. He was captured in an instant. The hunter fell prisoner to his prey. The dwarf accused him of being an assassin and Hoot accused the dwarf of being a Banite. The story slowly and awkwardly revealed itself. The Dwarf and his cloaked companion where not Banites. Instead sworn enemies of them. They hunted them across the land from village to hamlet. They learned that Hoot had mistaken the Dwarf for the one who took his betrothed. Hoot was their prisoner until his story could be confirmed. He was made to carry their gear as payment for the donkey he killed. They took his belonging and in doing so found the book that he carried for over three years now. The one he had never been able to read. That night the wizard asked Hoot why he carried such a strange book. The wizard demanded Hoot read the book to them before going to sleep. Hoot refused and reluctantly revealed that he could not read. The wizard opened the book and began to read it to Hoot. The words flowing off the wizards delicate tongue finally giving voice to the characters and meaning to the sketches.

[Savage]

Hoot took out a simple worn leather bound book. A book he had carried these many years. The book that never left his side or his thoughts, the one simply titled “One Life’s Path”. He handed them the book, which was opened to the sketch of the knight kissing beautiful young maiden. The love on the faces in the sketch was undeniable. As the love on there faces was also undeniable. The knight seemed to bear a remarkable resemblance to Kelric but he had not see that until the couples own story had lead him to see it. The woman was a lot like Yulena but dressed more as princess in the sketch than the more practical garments Yulena usually hid her beauty beneath. Hoot came to understand that when Kelric looked at her he saw her as the princess in the picture without paling even the slightest glimmer.

Hoot wondered if they could understand that they looked not at a page of a book, or a sketch but a piece of his very soul, opened and revealed before them. He wondered if they could read the words below the sketch written in Luskan that said simply. “You, are my one life’s path”. It was a simple quote that tied into the story and title of the book. A simple quote that hung over Hoot like an executioners axe. Hoot wondered if he had hid the surprise of revelation that occurred to him as they told their story to him. The revelation that in the story Hoot was not playing the role of the knight. Hoot had always thought he was the knight in the story. Always thought that was his destiny. Now he understood it could possibly be something else. Maybe he was not the knight in the story. Maybe he was the knights good friend. Hoot wondered if things would carry though in his life like they had for the friend in the book. At first the thought had saddened him and for a few moments he fought his emotions to keep from revealing this sadness on his face. As they handed back the book his eyes lingered on the sketch before putting the book away again. As his eyes lingered he found a calm peace. He thought to himself, ”If that is my role in this I can live with that.” as he wrapped the book in its protective leather cover and places it back in his pack. He looked back at the couple who where now given each other a comforting hug. Hoot made a quick excuse and left them to speak privately before retiring.

[Savage]

It had just passed midday and Hoot found himself in the Northwest Market watching his own shadow shrink closer to his feet as the Sun moved straight overhead. He was waiting there for a haughty elven priestess who had stepped in to a near by Inn to find a quiet spot to conduct her mid day prayers. Not being one who was quick to judge he had decided to give this woman a chance and travel with her to Suzail. Perhaps the trip would provide opportunity to change his less than positive opinion of her. Perhaps he may even learn something useful from her, though he was filled with doubt. He considered her as he waited and concluded that she was like many elves arrogant in her self worth. Considering still that like many new comers she was overconfident in her faith it was very likely she had completely underestimated those around her, including him. Maybe it was her that made him feel uneasy, apprehensive; maybe it was just the waiting. It was a feeling that inexplicably grew and discomforted him. Then he heard it. The faint step and the whistling of wind as a blade traveled through the air. Just as quickly as he had caught the sound it was gone replaced by a searing pain as if he had been stuck by lighting. Just as quickly as the sound and pain had come both had left. The blade had severed his spinal cord and there was nothing but dull ness. The dark clouds inside his head drew thick and overcast as they began to pour down a torrent of blood that soaked him through. The blood leaving a trail as his body dragged to an ally. No moans of pain where heard only the sound of the blade methodically cutting his body into smaller and smaller portions.


~ lost in the haze of a souls twilight ~

The sun was shinning through a break in the dark gray clouds that had just poured out a torrent of rainfall. The beams of light danced through every droplet of water each of which casts its own rainbow of colors causing them to glow with resounding brilliance. Amidst this dizzying siege of colors and light a focus point began to carve itself out of the surrounding haze. The form glowed a brilliant hue of azure that slowly pushed back the rainbow colors until everything was tinted by its illumination. The form gaited along ahead of him slowly passing through the surrounding tundra. Covering ground in slow sad strides the form continued to withdraw from the haze into the shapely form of a woman draped in azure cloak drawn close to protect against the dampness in the air. He wanted the form knowing not why, but who was clear and the desire was present and it enticed him to follow the cloaked figure though twisting forest. He followed for seconds or days he couldn’t tell, as the only thing that had meaning was the form and the desire to follow it. Each soft footstep of the figure soothing and refreshing his soul; each soft footstep delivering both the satisfaction of following as well as the desire to continue; each soft footstep feel with confidence in the direction and knowledge of the path that Hoot had never known nor felt before.

The howl came completely unexpected. With it came the end of bliss. The azure form suddenly doubled it pace and began walking swiftly away from him and with every shred of distance gained his sorrow grew heavier. Clouds overhead grew thick and began to pour out their sadness. The rain-washing away the azure tint from everything leaving behind a scarlet veil that burned with hate and smoldering lust. Desire was replaced with tainted passion and a flame burst forth on the soaked ground in a pool of scarlet water. Sadness battled rage as the fire tried to take hold and the water sought to extinguish the fledgling flame. A column of searing light sprang down from the sky and the scene faded away.

The group stood around him gazing at pile of body parts wondering who that could be. Vestele in her boundless wisdom concluded that it must be Hoot. He was standing where the trail of blood began and now this cleaved up pile of flesh must be his since it did if fact seem to have shredded green armor on. At least it-looked green it was hard to tell with it coated in blood and bile. Her knowledge of swords lead her to quickly conclude that no blade other than, Korfuji could have diced the body so cleanly. It must be and this must have been the work of Manshin. The group searched about for someone who could assist in the resurrection of Hoot, as no scroll would mend one so deeply wounded. One who soul had begun its walk-in the afterlife. Silinthis in his generosity interceded with –his- god called a blessing of resurrection down which –his- god granted, this service peformed at the very reasonable price of a thousand gold lions.

For the price of thousand gold lions Hoots soul was rescinded from bliss and set to a new purpose.

~ Hoot questions his former demise ~

Inquiring as to the events that left to him lying on blood soaked piece of reeking ground, Vestele recounted the events to him. Her confidence and certainty of the events raised Hoots guard first. He wasn’t sure if this was the return of the distaste he had for her haughty nature or was in fact that she knew more than she was telling. He struggled to recall how it went? Had he invited her to go with him? Has she invited him? Had she invited herself to go? The questions where just a distraction trying to justify the actions that his head strangely demanded he take. Was he setup? Did she set him up? Wasn’t it convenient the way this took place? Which side is she on? His mind struggled to place facts in order. Struggled to plan. Struggled to plot. Struggled to hear reason but reason could not be heard.

[Savage]

//Hoot returns to the temple of Tempus in Suzial after a long absence

Tempus I have returned to your temple. I know it has been a long while but I simply could not return and face you carrying the dishonor that I do.

Your doctrine speaks words to me: Tempus does not win battles - Tempus helps the deserving warrior win battles.

Malar the Blue Bear is the chosen god of my clan’s men. Yet early on I felt your call on me. I left the faith of my people and sought your teachings, when the Malarite warriors of our clan scorned my father. I thought you where teaching me to find honor in battle not bloodlust and rage.

I thought it was for this purpose you set Bulkavard and the others against me. Every time, I stood to fight them I failed but I stood with the honor you demanded. In time you granted me the power to overcome. You granted me the honor of victory but in my vanity I did not take it. I choose instead my own desire to be with my betrothed. In that I failed to honor the sanctity of battle and the warriors creed of Tempus. I decided who deserved to win not you and that is when I fell from your favor.

In the battles to claim her hand, I did not face my enemies with honor. I did not trust in you to deliver victory to me as I felt I did not deserve it. I know it was for this reason that you allowed the dark dwarf to fall on my betrothed. I didn’t deserve her and so you took what I had gained through trickery and deceit.

You took her and at the same time placed before me the enemy you choose for me to battle. I understood then, that I was to battle this dark dwarf with strength and honor in order to regain your favor. I hunted for seven years for him and for redemption. I failed in this, as I never faced the dwarf. I never achieved redemption. I know this because you have not taken my soul to the warriors rest, choosing instead to leave me here so that I might regain your favor through honor in battle.

Your doctrine speaks words to me:
A faithful of Tempus should retreat from hopeless fights, but never avoid battle.
A faithful of Tempus should slay one foe decisively and bring battle to halt quickly if possible.
A faithful of Tempus should, above all, disparage no foe and respect all, for valor blazes in all, regardless of age, gender, or-race.
I returned to Cormyr, not to seek the redemption of honor in battle but for the reasons of my heart. I know this is why you lead me to face the Champion of the Zentharim and I know that this is why Aria left me. I fell but was not finished and I learned that it is your will that I not know love until I have stood in battle with honor and I learn to fight with valor.

When I faced the attacker in the Redmist Inn, the one I assume was Ranan or one of his men, I failed again. I know that you decided he deserved to win. But, I was again not finished; you choose to not let me rest. I understood that you set another enemy before me. I had begun to prepare myself to face him so that I could win with honor.

I know that I have not challenged these foes and that I have not fought with the honor you demand and I know you are not please with me.

That is why you allowed Manshin to cut me down, without warning and without even the dignity of holding a weapon in my hand. I also know that you no longer claim me as your own. I feel it distinctly. I feel the loss of honor. That is why I could not be raised in Suzail. That is why another god’s priest had to resurrect me. You no longer claimed my soul and it was not allowed to go where brave warriors do. I understand that the only reason I am back is because a different god purchased my soul.

All, I feel is failure, frustration, and insignificance.