- Nov 10, 2008
Nesak: HP = 43, PP = 44, EP = 95, Status = Fine
Groumet, Chieftain of the Goldbloods
Reyna, Wife of the Chieftain
Breket, Warleader and First Son of Groumet
Phaeron, Shamanborn and Second Son of Groumet
Roruk the Coward, Third Son of Groumet prefers Roruk the Reasonable
Engren, Warrior and Fourth Son of Groumet
Ingta, Only Daughter of Groumet, twin with Engren
Verein, Great Hunter and Fifth Son of Groumet
Borss the Slovenly, Sixth Son of Groumet
"Brother! Up with you! Brother!"
Breket's booming voice called out, tearing through the thin fabric of Nesak's private tent and forcing him to awaken. The tent flap was torn aside a moment later, revealing his eldest brother's burly frame silhouetted in the morning light. He crouched in order to peer in, his gaze shifting into a glare as he realized that Nesak had still been asleep. Their primitive accommodations were designed to provide shelter and be easily packed up, but not necessarily a great deal of comfort or room. Being unwed, Nesak's tent was barely large enough to hold him and his few possessions, and would remain so until he took a wife and they set out to build their own tent.
Their swampy home didn't offer the most appealing of locations for setting up sprawling abodes anyway, though at least the damp earth and moss on which the nomadic tribe of kobolds often built their temporary shelters were soft enough to sleep on with some comfort. Twas no enchanted glade in which the Goldbloods, wyldfae beholden to no greater faerie lord, made their home; they were like their kin of old, before the near breaking of the world had forced their kind to join the ranks of the fae or be annihilated. Their ilk were among the lowest ranks among the fey, lower even than the dimwitted trolls or oft untrustworthy goatkin. Their tribe hadn't even encountered one of the high fae, the sidhe, during Nesak's lifetime, though on the continent of Arlos the courts held little sway and thus the more powerful faeries were rare. When the sidhe did appear, it was more often as an emissary demanding something from one court or another, or more irksomely as a lord seeking to carve out their own kingdom after fleeing to the wild country. More than once during his father's reign had someone forcibly conscripted their tribe as a force of arms or even as menial laborers, offering paltry reward before they were simply let go rather than offered the prestige and greater rewards they were promised.
Their presence in the mortal world forced them to compete with mortal creatures for land and resources, and the most populous race of Arlos were not the most pleasant of neighbors. The wolfir were faster, stronger, larger, and quicker to breed than Nesak's kind, and they tolerated the presence of the Goldbloods and other kobold tribes only because verdant Arlos had enough for both to survive, and at times even thrive. While the wolfir might be able to breed more of their kind at a time, kobolds grew far more quickly, leaving them quick to replace losses when they really had to. It was simply easier for the wolfir to push the kobolds to the least hospitable portions of Arlos - like this swamp - than to go through the trouble of wiping them out, and while they might be perfectly comfortable in many types of terrain the canine wolfir like swamps least of all.
Their lives hadn't necessarily been entirely pleasant, moving from camp to camp as they hunted and foraged through the bogs and moors and occasionally among the more pleasant patches of forest, but they had been living without major issue. Now, however, something had changed. Foreign creatures had come from elsewhere, across the sea, and begun invading the swamps. The creatures of Londo, commonly called Londoriens, were far more adapted to living in the moist environment than his own people, and had become a plague of sorts that his people had been constantly suffering for most of Nesak's life. Their tribe was pushed back again and again, as were their kindred from other tribes, but the war had not entirely been one sided. Even so, whenever they eradicated a nest, destroyed an egg clutch, or raided a village it hardly seemed to bother the londoriens, who ranged from reptilian to amphibious to fishlike in their appearances.
His father, Groumet, was the current chieftain, and had refused to yield his tribe's place in their homeland to these invaders. Nesak's brother and current bother, Breket, was his most faithful supporter and the leader of their war parties. Phaeron, second born, had been lost to the weaving, what his people called the magic guiding their shamans, and was in training among them to harness his unusual gifts. Roruk, the third born, was of the opinion that they ought to flee the swamp and take their chances with the wolfir who were most friendly to their tribe, leaving the other tribes to continue the failing war against the Londoriens, and much of the tribe called him coward. Engren, fourth born, and his twin sister Ingta were both faithful to their father and regularly joined the war parties, though Ingta was wise enough to see that they couldn't continue like this for long. Verein, the fifth born son and their tribe's greatest hunter, was rare to speak and mostly ignored the arguments about what to do, and had been out on a hunting trip for nearly a week now. Borss, the sixth born son, had taken to despair at their people's plight and lived a life of hedonism, or at least as much as one could given their sparse resources, and contributed as little as he could to get by.
That left Nesak, last born son, and likely last to be born as their mother, Reyna, had been declared infertile after his birth, and Groumet refused to take another wife. His own immediate family had become the ruling portion of their tribe when his grandfather had led a war party into Londorien territory, along with Groumet's brothers, and none had returned. Where his brothers were warriors or hunters or shamans or drunks, Nesak had another ambition, a greater one, for he had received a vision. Images of glory and power had come to him in his sleep, not unlike those seen by the shamans but far clearer to Nesak's mind. A great spirit had appeared, veiled in gold, and promised him not only personal power but the salvation of their tribe in exchange for service, but when he had brought up the notion of following his visions he had been shot down entirely. Heresy some called it, abandoning the spirits of the land for some unknown creature, no doubt at best an opportunistic sidhe looking to gain their loyalty without actually offering anything of value, but the visions had not ended and were too real to ignore.
His father and brothers had tried to keep him busy, keep him from seeking the being sending him these visions, and today it seemed was no different. He'd been told last night that he was to join a war party, despite his own utter lack of martial prowess, but whether or not he would continue to obey such commands... The pull to find Sadim and free the spirit, to gain its strengthr and prove to his people that they could free themselves from their lot in life with but an acceptance of its power, had grown stronger by the day. He had planned to leave, to go seeking, but he would have to decide when... And how. His older brother's impatient glare fell across him, silently demanding that he rouse himself. Breket had always been the most disapproving of Nesak's wild dreaming, had started becoming almost as disapproving against it as against Borss' slovenly habits, and now seemed no different. "Up! Come! There is work to be done! Or are you so lost in your dreaming that even the most basic labors are beyond your ability now?"