Harome Nibunnoichi

The life of a shield craftsman. For many years, the man in the serpent cloak has pursued this career, his dream, his choice. An aged warrior, settled down to tend to his craft, the blade which is his guide lying next to him, awaiting the next battle, the next oppurtunity, the next chance to defile the land with pieces of the defeated. Such a thing would never have been fathomable in the days of old, the days of
the endless pursuit of battle, the desire to do nothing but kill, to gain his only true wish, revenge.

In the year 300, the elven man who would be known as Harome Nibunnoichi, "One half of a quest" was born to a society of the unknown, those who live no lives, and follow no law. The travelling group of four raised the young warrior in the tainted barren wastelands of Therengia, the fields unihabited by man. Through brutality, and rigorous daily trials, the group conditioned the boy to endure any terrain, and survive any element. They showed him the means necassary to live where others would run in fear. Eventually, after the youth had grown to
adolescense, by human standards, and it was time to advance his education to that of the blade. That which would become his guide, his way, his life, till death did he part. The blade would see him through any ordeal, the blade would give him purpose, meaning, a way to exist. But one must learn how to wield it, and so it was then that the group decided to take the youth with them to where they fought for the food on their cloth.

The night went well, and the group successfully managed to harvest the food they needed for the night and next day. The youth watched in childlike awe at the wonders that made such a feat possible. Blades twirling, tooth and claw repelled, and blood shared between the combatents throughout the battle. It was time for them to return to their camp, and feast on the spoils. But this was not their night to
enjoythemselves, this was not the time for them to go home in victory. A band of brigands was hiding nearby, watching and waiting for their oppurtunity to strike upon the group when their energy was spent, to rob them of that which is most precious, life. The rogues quickly seized the chance and started decimating all they saw. The group was defeated almost as soon as it began, all five of them left for dead. Having won the battle, the brigands took what they needed and vanished with little more then a memory to leave behind. The youth, battered and broken, crawled to the others, and with his last ounce of strength, slipped from consciousness on top his mothers body.

Half an andaen passed before the adolescent awoke. Starving and weak, the young man willed his body to do what was needed. The bodies were buried, and a brief prayer was uttered in their names. No tears were shed, this was not the time. All that mattered now, was ensuring his own survival so that he could become strong enough to prevent such a tragedy from ever happening again, if he had a say in the matter.

And so the young man, who's name would soon be known if only by a careless whisper, ventured to the civilized world, the world he never knew, the life he never dreamed. Dirty, wounded, and with nothing to his name save for the tattered pelt-made cloak that wrapped almost futively around his body, he questioned those he found for help, only to learn that to become what he needed to be, he must study under another. He was then directed to the various Guild Halls, and told to ask
for assistance there. With little alternative, he mustered his strength and roamed down the roads to the points of interest. Guild after Guild he traveled to, but even such a simplistic choice that is merely finding an ally, became a difficult ordeal.

The Paladins did not want him, for his thirst for vengence clouded his judgement. The Empaths could not fight without suffering, nor did they have the resources needed for the task at hand. Those whose primary concerns were weaving the forces of nature and bending the laws of physics did not appeal to him, as he wanted his body to endure daily liviing, not what he could conjure up. He avoided the Barbarians, for he feared the monster he would become, so too did he stay clear of the Clerics, for in his time of rage did not believe the gods worthy of his worship. Knowing little of civilization, he did not believe the Bards would have use for him, as he did not want to turn his life to that of performing for people he cared little for.

Having found no help, the elven lad tried to leave the city to die in peace. Unfortunately, knowing nothing about the city the young man quickly was lost in the hustle and bustle of the crowds, not being able to tell one way from another. Dazed and confused, and after several anlaen of effort, he eventually passed through a gate to leave. But to his dismay, this is not where he had come from. It seemed to be just another crowded area, just with more woodland then the city itself produced. Too weak to care, the man trudged on forward to leave behind
the people, and fate decided it was time to stop toying with him. Destiny had led him to the Guild Mistress Kalika of the Rangers, who took him in and showed him how to lead life his way. Through guidance and patience, the man learned how to live like those who used to care for him, how to take care of himself, live for himself, fend for himself.

A long time has passed since that day, many adventures were followed, many battles were fought, and many changes has happened. Love gained, lost lost, and even his life was destroyed. But such tales are for another time, as knowledge is to be gained through wisdom and patience.

Harome Nibunnoichi, Warrior and Craftsman of the Serpent

Until our next encounter

Last Revised: 05/28/04