Child Pages:
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Vanduin was born in the Elven hamlet of Scorthia on the edge of the Sylvan Kingdom. The hamlet was undistinguished from other hamlets aside from Vanduin’s parents. Van’s father, Gardan Calthwain, was and weapon smith of great repute. His mother, Drina Silverthorn, was a master spell weaver. Together they specialized in the creation of custom magic weapons. Business was good, and many adventurers came from far around to place orders with them. Vanduin was an only child (so far), but he brought much joy to both of his parents. He would spend much time wandering through the forests picking flowers for his mother. He would also spend hours at the forge watching his father and mother work. When Vanduin was just stripling of twenty years a half-orc barbarian came to the hamlet. He called himself Algor Ironfist and his appearance caused quite a stir in the hamlet. Still adventures had been known to seek out Gardan and Drina for several years now and Algor claimed to want to commission a work from them. He was allowed in to see them, and Algor commissioned a magic axe from them. He paid half their price up front and promised to return in three months time when the work was to be completed. Algor returned in three months time, bringing with him several friends. Warriors all, they were clad in the arms and armor of the barbarian tribes, shields covered in leather hides. They were allowed in, and met with Gardan and Drina. Instead of payment though, they brought death. Vanduin’s parents were slaughtered in their forge. The axe was taken, as was the all the gold and the valuables. The forge was set on fire, which quickly spread to the rest of the hamlet. The half-orcs made good their escape in the confusion. Vanduin was playing in the forest that day. As he saw the smoke rising from the area of the village he hurried back expecting to find some small building or field afire. When he saw it was the forge, a dread foreboding came upon him. Everyone was rushing this way and that fighting the fire. Vanduin searched among the villagers, but could find no sign of his parents. Finally, the fire put out, Vanduin saw the bodies of his mother and father pulled out of the ashes of the forge. His world went black, red, and gray. A thin keening wail pierced the air, Vanduin’s own voice shrieking against a world without his parents. To this day he remembers that image. Some villagers wondered if the child would survive. For weeks he was inconsolable. Wailing and crying through the night, lashing out at any who came near him. Vanduin was taken in the by the village leader, Argain Alorien, and his family. The healers treated Vanduin with herbs and potions to calm him. Eventually he recovered his sanity, and began to heal. Thereafter, though, Vanduin was withdrawn, quite, and even sullen. His life became obsessed with thoughts and fantasies of taken vengeance for his parents. When he was old enough he began studying the ways of war craft. He sought the tutelage of Gurnion and Malandy, two retired solders who had settled in the village. Vanduin learned well all of the weapons of a solder, though his favorite became the rapier. He displayed a precocious, dexterous talent with the weapon. Vanduin loved the challenge of fencing with Malandy and Gurnion. The thrill of parrying and opponents weapon inches from his chest and then returning the blow in kind was one of the few things that, after his parents’ death, would get Vanduin to laugh and smile. Argain was not terrible happy with Vanduin’s choice of learning. Though Vanduin never openly admitted it, it was fairly obvious that the boy was bent on bloody retribution. Argain tried to keep the knowledge of Algor Ironfist's name from Vanduin. But in a village this small secrets never keep. Also, in Vanduin’s mind is the image of his parents being pulled out of the ruins of the forge. Behind his mother’s body, in a dim back corner of the forge, Vanduin saw the body of one of the raiders. Its shield lay across the body, the leather cover burned away to reveal a fist in black on a red background. Clenched in the fist were three black arrows. Argain tried to interest Vanduin in other trades and other matters. However, nothing else seemed to hold Vanduin’s interest. The only times when Vanduin was happy, was when he was practicing his sword work. Eventually Argain gave up, hoping that in enough time something would change Vanduin. As Vanduin matured, Argain’s hopes were answered. Though Vanduin never gave up his sword training, he did become interested in other things, particularly in Milandre, Argain’s daughter. Milandre was of an age with Vanduin. While they had lived together for years as brother and sister, with the onset of puberty they discovered that their feelings grew more passionate and romantic than that between true siblings. Argain approved of this dalliance. Milandre brought out he best in Vanduin, and Vanduin made her very happy. While he was with her, Vanduin finally shook off the last of his sullenness. Once again he was able to take joy in the little things of life. As is usual for an elf’s first love, their affair last only a short time, 35 years, as elves measure time. In the end they drifted apart. Though they still enjoyed each other’s company, they started spending more time apart. Today Vanduin still keeps in touch, and drops by when he is close enough to home. On his name day in his 120th year Vanduin received a gift of a fine rapier from both his father and from Argain. Many years ago, before Vanduin was born, Argain had commissioned the rapier from Gardan. Now Argain was giving the sword to Vanduin as a part of Vanduin’s rite of passage. The rapier is a fine master crafted weapon. Though non-magical, the metal alloy of the blade will not rust and almost never needs sharpening. The blade is set into an elegant but serviceable guard and pommel. Near the haft of the blade is the mark of Gardan’s smithy, a rapier emblazoned on a sun, set on to a shield. Vanduin had decided that now would be an appropriate time to begin to seek, not quite vengeance any more, but justice for his parents murder almost a full century beforehand. That was when he realized that a hundred years had passed. Algor Ironfist was almost certainly dead by now, from old age if from nothing else. Still, it was time for Vanduin to leave home. He had long ago learned all that he could from Gurnion and Malandy. The Fists of Hextor, as he now knew them to be, were still out there. He could, perhaps, avenge his parents by hindering the Fists of Hextor. Gurnion and Malandy suggested that Vanduin travel to the city of Dyver’s and there join the Blades of Light. It was a human outfit, true, but both Gurnion and Malandy had served in it before. Also they hinted that Vanduin could find Masters there who could teach him more about swordplay. Vanduin began his journey to Dyvers late in that summer. As he traveled through the Elven kingdom he would often stop in different villages and stay for a week or two to get a feel for the area. He would often take side trips to points of interest or wherever his wanderlust lead him. On one of these trips Vanduin was looking over the site of an ancient battlefield. The site was now a wooded valley with grassy knolls, clearings, and soft quiet glades. Not much marked this as a site of a decimating battle between elven armies, though one could still find a bone fragment or two in the ground. As Vanduin wandered through the valley a late summer thunderstorm struck. The storm was far more violent and filled with energy than usual for that time of the year. Hail, lightning, and rain began to lash out of the dark pregnant clouds. As the temperature dropped and the winds rose, Vanduin thought better of being out in the open and began looking for shelter. Spotting what looked like a cave in a nearby hillside he decided to wait out the storm there. The cave went back farther that it looked like from the outside. As Vanduin neared the back he spotted a figure lying in the shadows. He froze for a moment, until he saw that the figure wasn’t moving. In the dim light Vanduin could make the skeletal remains of an elven warrior clad in rotting bits of armor. The warrior must have crawled in here to escape the battle and then succumbed to his wounds. A crossbow bolt was still lodged in his ribs, and a rusty long sword lay beside him. As Vanduin was examining the remains his hand fell across a piece of jewelry. It was to hard to make out exactly what it was in the dim lighting, so he put it in his pocket to look at later. As Vanduin settled in to wait out the storm he thought about what to do with the remains. Unless the jewelry held any identifying marks there was no way to tell whom the warrior was. Typical elven custom was to cremate the dead. However, there wasn’t that much left to burn. And the wood outside would be much too wet for a funeral pyre. In the end Vanduin decided to let the forest continue to reclaim the remains. In a short while the storm abated and moved on further north. Vanduin left the cave and examined the jewelry he had found. It was a small fine spider figuring made in onyx and silver, and fashioned into a cloak pin. There were no identifying marks on it. Rationalizing that it would be a shame to let it remain lost with the warrior, Vanduin decided to keep it. He pinned it to his cloak and continued down the valley. Vanduin continued in this manner the rest of the way to Dyvers, arriving there some two years after setting out. There he succeeded in joining the Blades of Light. His first task was to accompany another young elf, Archren Elmleaf, to the city of Caltarras to gather information on the rumors of an evil force plaguing the city.
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