I grew up to stories of my great great grandfather who I was named after. His exploits known far and wide, his role in the defeat of dragons and the death of god’s legends across the land. He was a Shaman, as became his son and his son and so on until me. I was not yet a Shaman but listening to the stories of my father with the Spear of Fate held proudly in his hands made me want to become one all the more. My family had a connection with the spirits, we helped them, and they helped us. We trusted them as you would trust your own feet to walk, your own hands to grasp, and your own courage to hold in battle. I remember the day the sprits abandoned us. The ship was a large seagoing vessel with a double mast and a set of oars for times of low wind, she was called the Blue Mermaid her captain was Jarson Descreal the Dwarf. Our cargo, refugees we where escorting from the remains of the oasis of Marr, en route to where we beloved the Qeynos was. The seas where tossing the huge stick about like a twig in the surf but the captain and her crew where veterans of the seas. We had pulled these people across burning sands, a sky that rained fire and the dead rising to bring them down, with the spirits at our side we could withstand anything. The sea became calm just for a moment. The air, so still the sails stopped, it was as if the hand of a god came down for a moment and quieted the whole world. I heard the sea break and an immense creature rose from the see, its yellow bloodshot eyes bigger than my shoulders are broad. I serpent of the sea there could be no doubt, I could not see the entire creatures body, but it was certainly bigger than the vessel itself. The refugees on deck screamed and ran for below the deck hands cried out and my father stepped forward holding forth the spear that been in our family for generations. A chant began on his lips, but this time there was no crackle of power to accompany it. His eyes narrowed, for the first time in my life I saw doubt in my father’s eyes. It was quickly replaced by resolve as he took another step towards the great serpent and began a chant again. The silence that was eerie before was now deafening, I felt it, and I knew my father felt it. The spirits had left us. Left us to our fate. The Great serpent flicked out his tongue, My father cried out "For HALAS and the TRIBUNAL". The serpent rose up and then plunged down into my father and strait through the deck. The splitting deck shot me like a catapult out off the ship and out into the water. I watched the serpent consume most of the people on the boat from afar, I don't know if any survived. I don't know how many days I floated on the open seas before the far journey picked me up. During the time I floated I knew only one thing, we had been betrayed, our allies had fled in battle. I too would follow in my Ancestors tradition of the shaman, but no longer would this be a relationship based on respect; it would now be based on fear. Next time, the spirits would fear me, far more than any challenge I might face. Argyuile Iceraven the Defiler
