World: Aarde Destines Past - Simon Ward

Image by Wyxina Tresse - Blooming Orange Rose

Session 1: Trouble at New Port -

The Ocean's tide rises with the moon’s caress as it’s dim light causes the paths to glow. A normal, scenic evening in the trade town of New Port. This place had become home over these last 4 years, Simon thought to himself. As far as homes go, it’s not the worst he’d had. He continued his patrol of the town, one of his many tasks as the apprentice to the local mage.

A couple of flowers on the cusp of bloom crossed his gaze. A deep red rose, a vibrant yellow bird of a paradise and a striking cosmic purple star gazer lily. He smiled and waved his hand toward them with intent, reaching out with his energies, through the ground, traveling through the roots, as he had been taught all those years ago. The spell finding purchase, with his right hand outstretched, his left grasping an old copper-inlaid leaf pressed amulet, His mind wandered to his ancestral home…. to Falor… to Deepmire

Simon was a happy child. Raised in a small druid village in the southern most forests of Falor, Deepmire. A small circle of druids and hunters, living off of the bounty of nature. While Simon never new his blood parents, the circle treated him as one their own. Though this started to change his 10th birthday.

As was the custom for children his age, he began training to discover his magical gifts. Most born to the forests bounty were blessed in some form or fashion. For some it manifested in a gift of spirit to commune with nature. Others were granted power over the elements and few given the physical prowess of Beasts. But as Simon went through each test and trial, he couldn’t perform even the simplest of their miracles.

On the 13th day of the trials, something clicked as he held a small bud in his hand, while his task was to have it bloom, his magic had an odd effect, the bud aged rapidly, and turned to rot. From this moment, his efforts in magic would be followed by this decay. Where his fellows would cause blooming fields, try as he might, the buds would wilt and wither away. While this unsettled many, Rion, the leader of the congregation, embraced and protected all. Through much effort and his support, Simon was able to cause a bloom of a sort….

Rion the Swift, the heart of the village. The memory of his courage and strength warmed Simon’s heart. Though the warmth of this recollection was always met with a cloud of guilt.

One day, while leading a hunter party, Rion was gravely injured protecting one of the pack members, Frieg. Despite Rion’s efforts, in the mist of the chaos of the fight, Frieg’s body was dragged off by a group of ravenous beasts. Simon held Rion’s failing body in his arms. His circle members also gravely wounded from the assault. Simon knew there was no time to wait for aid.

He reached into his himself and grasped onto his magic with all his soul. He attempted to pour his life force directly into Rion’s body. The energies flowed into Rion’s body, causing his body to shake and spasm. The spell continued, and Rion’s eyes opened, he leaped to his feet and swiftly struck down the remaining assailants. Simon was relieved, though strained by his exertion of magic; As in this state he released his power uncontrolled and without limit.

“Rion! Rion we… we did it!” - Simon called out. But Rion just slowly turned and walked toward him. “Rion we… I…. eye… eyes..?…?… - Simon’s words started to fail him as the spell was forcing him to unconsciousness. Rion’s once sapphire blue eyes, were now a dull grey, his strong back now slouched, and his brave, warm presence, was now replaced with something grim…. but on his face, some sort… of….

Simon woke, feeling heavy and drunk as if he had slept for days. He opened his eyes and found his familiar bed and room. He jumped to his feet.

“It had all been a dream!”… He dashed toward the door. His nose smelled the flame before he felt it. His home and all of the village was burning. A slow smoldering fire, creeping cross all the structures. The only surviving items of note, a cloak made of furs, bound with twine and infused with magic… Rion’s cloak lay on the bed where Simon had woke. And the copper-inlaid pressed leaf amulet. Infused with Druidic magic, a symbol and focus of their Circle. These, the last vestiges, of Deepmire.

Gathering his courage and driven by some unknown force, he grabbed what provisions remained and took his first steps into the unknown.

A field of small, orange bell flowers, scattered themselves across the scene of the now smoldering village. A acrid sweet aroma lingering for those who dared to stop.

Simon, reached out to the three plants, they stretched and grew. Their blooms swelling still they burst open in a vibrant display. He smiled, pleased with himself. Then suddenly stopped for a moment, and just for that moment, that lingering acrid sweet of his haunted past crept in his nose. But as soon as it was registered, the smell vanished. Replaced by the present perfume of the rose, and their companions.

“Wow I really must be tired. Shouldn’t have used that much magic.” - he muttered silently to himself. He resumed his patrol, walking down the path. The odd sound of chimed bells echo, as a small, orange flower bloomed in place where a red rose should be…….

”Man I’m hungry”…. - Simon’s stomach told him as much through the thunderous rumble of his gut. It was about dinner time anyways and the end of his required nightly patrol.

The popular tavern night spot, Sailor’s Haven, boasting an all you can eat seafood buffet. Plus there is a famous Goliath Bard that is scheduled to be playing all week. Music wasn’t one of Simon’s normal interested, but a celebration was in order for tonight. And beyond that of his normal end of shift.

Tonight was the last night of his apprenticeship! Might as well go out with a lil bit of a bang.

It had been both a long and short 4 years. Thankfully he was able to get in contact with an association mage after ~”booking” passage from Falor.

Griffmon, an elderly dwarf mage, was a serious but kind individual. He sensed the magic potential within Simon and agreed to sponsor him. The Association required that and a letter of introduction from an established member. This for Simon was a win-win right out of his previous troubles.

He learned a great deal from Griffmon. Including the Associations taboo, Necromancy. Griffmon himself and then recognized in Simon the talent for such magic. Griffmon’s belief had always been there is nothing that is inherently evil and this magic should be treated respectfully but not differently.Simon quickly grasped his natural talents and also learned traditional mage craft.

“But now all that training is about to pay off. Now, all I need to decide is what I want for my last meal in this fish-man town.” - Simon thought to himself as he pushed the doors to the tavern open.

”Oh hello, please come in, this way…” - Called the tavern maid as she pointed him to an empty table where he took his seat. But before he could land in his chair, his ears were assaulted by an animated neighboring patron.

”Yeah I’ll have that and oh… how would I do it… hmmm, Death by Crushing” - Yelled a foul mouth, red headed Goliath Woman as she slammed first her drink and then a large, cloth wrapped stone club on the table. “ANOTHER! And one for my new friend” - She called to the bar maid, gesturing to the now terrified apprentice.

Thank-you for reading! Tune in next time as we pickup with the introduction of our second party member, Frankincense.