Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!
This one begins with a little pre-play background to help set the stage.
Air Caster: O’Laen.
A child of four and a half years stole his uncle’s cigarettes, who was there to help the family move to a new home. The boy made his way into the attic to try his hand at smoking. Once there, however, the cigarettes were all but forgotten, and the treasures of boxes, chests, and passages in the storage made for a more immediate and exciting adventure. It was in a hope chest, an unremarkable box of treated wood, the lock worn from years of use, the book that seemed to shine as he looked for the source of light underneath the old scarf and speckled jewelry case. At 4, this boy had not yet learned to read, but the words on the cover called to him. They shaped themselves and made themselves known to the boy. This is where and when the boy learned of his bloodline, his true mother’s name among the pantheon of the Arial Gods of a distant place so far removed from here that light from there could never never reach him on Earth.
The book was a guide in the language of the Arial Gods, who’s wings of air carried them anywhere they chose. Who’s knowledge of and reverence for magic stretched beyond the stars. Too much for such a young one, the child fell asleep in the passing of time. He awoke in his bed, but the book was gone from his hands. He had forgotten much of what the book told him, but it was important. Sleep took him again, and he woke on the road to his new home. He asked about the shining book, but no one seemed to know what he was talking about, and no one listened to his cries for help in finding the most important thing in the world.
As the years passed, the boy recalled parts of the book in dreams, briefly, as if to tease him. It seemed to the boy that some of the dreams played out and cast upon the world to make bring forth an assistant, a guide, or some other such helper or protector, but it all escaped his memory soon after waking. In the years to come, he began to collect the best of friends. Then he knew his name.
Bastion of Strength: Frausk.
Hidden from all but a few silent protectors, the fragile child at six years was thrust into a school that did not want him. The very foundation of the school paid for that mistake, as the child’s anger took hold and railed against everyone. No one suspected the child was the reason for the shaking, cracked walls, and bursting pipes. The building was condemned only months after his arrival. His next school suited his temperament and settled his heart, as the silent protectors made themselves known to him, passing him the shielded coin made by his father. Upon which was written the course of activities fitting most properly to a child member of his heritage. The coin called out for companions, and one by one, they came. Then he knew his name.
Maker of Pain: Tienj.
Included with siblings that did not understand him, the child of 5 years gathered the courage to open the only door in the house that was known to harbor the scariest monster of all time, his brothers and sisters prodded and teased without shame. They did not stick around to find out what was in the cellar once the doors had been opened, but the boy found a band of gold hanging in the air that spoke to him of strange ways of thinking. He snatched the band and before he could place it upon his wrist a fiery beast leaped out as if to devour him but was quickly off with the gold band beyond the boy’s reach. The voice of gold still whispered things for a year and spoke of friends to come. Then he knew his name.
Shadow Smith: Clovier.
Mistakenly stolen by fey folk to replace one of their own for a child, the child of only 3 years discovered his true nature much faster than his immortal parent anticipated. Within an hour of the child’s abduction, the fey learned of their mistake, as the child had taken back an item, a patch of cloth, which rightfully, in time, would have belonged to the child, but the actions of the thieving fey accelerated the boy’s coming into his heritage early. Three of the fey lay dead before the child found sleep in his own bed with a black leathery cloth wrapped around his arm. In the following weeks, the black cloth had vanished and left the boy of 3 years with the understanding of shadow and the acute sense of the workings that is life and death, but forgetting most of it days after the cloth went missing. The cloth showed up in dreams from time to time, but after many years the boy would forget nearly all he had come to feel of and from the cloth. When his friends came, however, it was as if he had been expecting them. Then he knew his name.
Blue of Heart: Boleiv’veh.
Lost to the world on the very day of his 6th year, the birthday child was convinced of the adventure the local children had set upon. He followed, bundled in his warmest clothing, making his way through all the obstacles the older ones found as no challenge. Before long the child found himself on a slippery surface spinning about looking for the others. He could hear them, but could not see them though the heavy white snow fall. A quake upon the ice threw him off balance and a crack in the sheet splintered into a million shards, giving way to a burst and shower of frozen water, which sculpted itself into a nightmarish figure that gesticulated with crackling tentacles of freezing liquid. The child knew then that creature was there to kill him, but it was struggling against the ice. The shallow stream directly underneath the creature froze with unnatural speed, and the off balance creature toppled and shattered, bringing up a volume of ice larger than the creature itself. It’s remains vanished in a steam. Something in the hole left by the creature’s demise called out to the child. It glinted with a sharp point and pricked the boy’s finger, drawing blood, a thing small and curved to a hook. The barest sliver of knowledge flowed into the child’s mind, briefly glimpsing what was to come next, and that he was special, and that soon he would have special friends. His family found him some time later and thought it best to move to a safe place. Though he had forgotten most of what transpired, water reminded him of a destiny just beyond his reach and of being stalked. When his special friends arrived, he was surprised. Then he knew his name.
Keeper of Growth: Hassik.
Kept, protected, insulated, and isolated, the child of 5 years hungered for something that was not allowed to him. The sand, scorpions, and lizards stopped providing entertainment to the boy. When a rock began to sing to him, he spent as much time with it as he could. The songs were stories, hidden, masked, and muffled, but he understood every word. For weeks the child visited the rock, taking in all that he could. It’s song was different one day, and it lulled the boy to sleep. He woke soaked with slime and the rock split down the middle. A withered plant laid dead in the center, and the boy knew it to be the singer. His frantic parents fled with the boy, and the family lost themselves by living from place to place, camp sites, hotels, and finally had to settle. His parents, not his true parents he discovered, told him of his special heritage and that a great evil was looking for him. The child was told to find his inner strength and cultivate it to protect himself. That was when he realized the people he believed to be his parents were far too frail to go on much longer. They told him of other children that were like him, which the child also heard in the song. Next, he met his friends. Then he knew his name.
Your protector has been called away.
You all find yourself in Dallas, TX.