Family is a funny thing. They give your first real standing in this world for better or for worse. My parents taught me a lot even if at the time I took it all for granted. My mother was a strong woman. A housewife if you asked her her occupation, however that did not stop her from being everything I needed growing up. A teacher, my council, my support and biggest fan no matter what work (or mess!) I got myself into. The most important thing my mother ever taught me; it was to care for those who cannot care for themselves.
The same could not be said for my father. He was a man of his word and worked hard. However, his lack of empathy for those around him always stuck with me. I never wanted to be that. So, when people ask me why I bother helping those around me that are not from my city, my people or even my friend, I tell them that they can take their Stingbum attitude and bugger off!
Kindness and respect are the basis of life, and if you cannot give that, then you are worth nothing at all.
It’s one of the reasons I had to leave Brechlen I suppose not long after the war. It seems my actions during the war were noticed by both sides and there was some resentment. I was also noticed by a stone-faced lass who seemed to think I might be able to help her out. She gave me a token and set me out on a mission.
My journey took me far and wide, but in the end Mount Archestuel was my final destination. It was almost THE final destination. I was meant to pick up another token, but I was unable to find it. Apparently, it had been stolen from the Elf Lord of the city, and I could not find it myself. I did not realise how important it was to have both, and it could have cost me my life.
Take heed for when someone gives you instructions.
The path was long and dangerous. There were many creatures on the mountain, but I grew up with a hammer in one hand and an axe in the other. I pushed on through. There was a path going up the mountain was marked by an obelisk with strange markings that I could not read. Perhaps that had warnings on what lay ahead.
The way up is trapped and seems designed to prevent anyone with bad intentions from reaching it’s location. It was not for the faint of heart. At the top a strange man greeted me. He had a jackal’s head and spoke in riddles. I am not one for talk of nonsense, but it turns out he was trying to warn me. The temple took everything I had but the token I was originally given. It tested my will, strength and head. In the end, I could not complete the task. It was with a heavy heart I returned to the city.
I took the token back to the stone-faced lass. I was not worthy to hold it when I could not help her. I expected to be treated as a scoundrel, and yet she gave me another boon for having the bravery to return despite my shame. She told me of my people to the South in Dirdum in a Dwarven settlement who were in need of a warrior of my heart and strength. For not every quest can be completed by every hero, so her quest was not meant for me. It stung to hear I could not help, but she gave me hope I could help someone else. Like the children here. By the time I had returned to see her they had all grown up. They still remembered me.
I’ll have to make sure I visit often. Just to check on them and make sure they are okay. Maybe I’ll even update this for the mage’s guild who commissioned me to write in their book of war. I just hope they have an honest retelling of what people faced here and the lords who claimed to wage war for the people, at the cost of the people’s lives.
If you take one thing from the rambles of an old Dwarf then remember this: “The courage to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes and show empathy to someone you might ordinarily hate is the true strength of a warrior, not how hard he swings his sword.”
Comments