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Story Hour
Barrow of the Forgotten Story Hour - Complete! 8/13/08
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<blockquote data-quote="High Cleric" data-source="post: 4008640" data-attributes="member: 58910"><p><strong>Backstory for Celtir</strong></p><p></p><p>I had this rolling aorund in my noggin for a day or two...</p><p></p><p></p><p>Softly, the elf made his way through the forest overlooking the burned remains of the cabin. Smoke still drifted upward although no fires were now apparent in the husk of the ruined home. His nose picked up the scent of burned flesh and he stepped from the trees, his bow drawn tight. He saw a few crows waiting patiently in the high pines then his eye was drawn to some movement near the corner of the building. He heard a soft crying and lowered his bow as he strode to the form lying in the ashy mud.</p><p>The body appeared human or elven from its size but was crumpled in a heap and shaking. As he reached out to touch the shoulder, it jerked and cried out in a woman’s voice. He whispered soothing words that summoned the power of his god, Solonor, and calmed the woman. Turning her over, he realized there was little he could do for her. A large wound stretched from should to chest, and her life blood was leeching from her even as he watched.</p><p>“Gobliss,” she whispered hoarsely, “Mir….”</p><p>Her voiced trailed away as she died.</p><p>Sighing, he looked around and saw a smaller form, also crumpled and not moving a few feet away. Arrows, crudely designed, but obviously too efficient, protruded from the child’s back.</p><p>Gritting his teeth, the elf, a low ranking member of the Hawkeyes, or priests of Solonor, collected the woman and her daughter and covered them with his cloak. The remains of a human male were found hacked apart inside the border of pines, a bloody woodsman axe lay nearby with four goblin carcasses strewn about. At least he took some with him, Celtir thought.</p><p>The priest shook his head, and brought the man alongside his wife and child. He proceeded to bury them with a shovel he found in the wreckage of their home. A couple more goblin bodies were inside the cabin. At the edge of the cabin’s clearing, he was just finishing his prayer to the woodland gods when he heard the snarl behind him and a titter accompany it.</p><p>His holy symbol, a part of his long bow, had never left his hand. With a fluid motion he swept an arrow from his quiver on the ground, and let fly an arrow. He took a goblin rider high on the forehead and it fell from the back of the wolfish creature it was riding. Celtir suspected it was glancing blow off the helmet but he didn’t wait. Another arrow sped toward the wolf, which was charging him. It took the hit in the shoulder and stumbled as the priest fired a third shot. This hit the wolf in the ribs and it slumped, whining.</p><p>“By the Damned Branch, will you die,” he hissed as he released another arrow, ending the beast’s suffering. The crack of branches brought him up and he noticed the goblin rider was running into the forest crying out loud. Answering cries came to Celtir’s ears, too many to be a fair fight. Just the way goblins like it. </p><p>Glancing back at the mounds and hoping they would remain intact, he slipped into the forest, continuing on toward Kingsholm.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="High Cleric, post: 4008640, member: 58910"] [b]Backstory for Celtir[/b] I had this rolling aorund in my noggin for a day or two... Softly, the elf made his way through the forest overlooking the burned remains of the cabin. Smoke still drifted upward although no fires were now apparent in the husk of the ruined home. His nose picked up the scent of burned flesh and he stepped from the trees, his bow drawn tight. He saw a few crows waiting patiently in the high pines then his eye was drawn to some movement near the corner of the building. He heard a soft crying and lowered his bow as he strode to the form lying in the ashy mud. The body appeared human or elven from its size but was crumpled in a heap and shaking. As he reached out to touch the shoulder, it jerked and cried out in a woman’s voice. He whispered soothing words that summoned the power of his god, Solonor, and calmed the woman. Turning her over, he realized there was little he could do for her. A large wound stretched from should to chest, and her life blood was leeching from her even as he watched. “Gobliss,” she whispered hoarsely, “Mir….” Her voiced trailed away as she died. Sighing, he looked around and saw a smaller form, also crumpled and not moving a few feet away. Arrows, crudely designed, but obviously too efficient, protruded from the child’s back. Gritting his teeth, the elf, a low ranking member of the Hawkeyes, or priests of Solonor, collected the woman and her daughter and covered them with his cloak. The remains of a human male were found hacked apart inside the border of pines, a bloody woodsman axe lay nearby with four goblin carcasses strewn about. At least he took some with him, Celtir thought. The priest shook his head, and brought the man alongside his wife and child. He proceeded to bury them with a shovel he found in the wreckage of their home. A couple more goblin bodies were inside the cabin. At the edge of the cabin’s clearing, he was just finishing his prayer to the woodland gods when he heard the snarl behind him and a titter accompany it. His holy symbol, a part of his long bow, had never left his hand. With a fluid motion he swept an arrow from his quiver on the ground, and let fly an arrow. He took a goblin rider high on the forehead and it fell from the back of the wolfish creature it was riding. Celtir suspected it was glancing blow off the helmet but he didn’t wait. Another arrow sped toward the wolf, which was charging him. It took the hit in the shoulder and stumbled as the priest fired a third shot. This hit the wolf in the ribs and it slumped, whining. “By the Damned Branch, will you die,” he hissed as he released another arrow, ending the beast’s suffering. The crack of branches brought him up and he noticed the goblin rider was running into the forest crying out loud. Answering cries came to Celtir’s ears, too many to be a fair fight. Just the way goblins like it. Glancing back at the mounds and hoping they would remain intact, he slipped into the forest, continuing on toward Kingsholm. [/QUOTE]
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