[PF1] Perils of the Ashenwood

[Farmerbink]

Alright, I'm still working on finalizing equipment and spell choices and such. I've been battling (probably) the flu this week, so it's been slower going even than usual. For now, here's some background for Falgarra.

Spoiler: Falgarra Baldrydd

Show

Falgarra was born the third daughter of a family that ended up with four children, only the fourth a long sought-after son. Freed from much of the family affairs by her gender and place in line, she spent an unusual amount of time outdoors- especially for a Dwarf of the Ülgurül Hills. Many of her friends had never seen the sun by their 10th year, though young Falgarra seemed inexorably drawn to the surface. Indeed, the only thing it seemed she cared more about than watching the wind bend the trees was keeping her younger brother Timothy out of trouble. Often by means of physically intervening when the tot was poised to go tumbling. Thus, when named at her 5th birthday, her mother chose "Strong Root," to enshrine the young lady's grip and intense longing for the outdoors permanently in her name. Though she loved her time in the sun, especially gazing skyward from beneath the trees on the fringes of Ashenwood, Falgarra remained primarily beholden to her kin and clan, and spent many hours learning the various crafts and methods to living in the hills nearby. She always felt some bizarre calling, however, as she learned many of the secrets of her people. As a young woman, she spent equal parts time gamboling about in the woods to satisfy her wanderlust and poring over ancient tomes to satisfy her elders. When she came of age, Falgarra married a fellow named Garrid, and found peace sharing his home, and raising his children. The two have two youngsters of their own, as luck would have it both boys! Her first born, Morlind is as rambunctious a young teenager as any, and his 4 year old brother will be named in the coming spring. Falgarra has already spent many a long day rolling her eyes and pulling her hair at the children's never-ending antics, though as often as not there were good-natured smiles hidden behind a hand or stein. Garrid is a good man, a brilliant craftsman, and a devoted husband. When he was called to the 10-year moot last summer as one of the representatives from the clan, it came as no surprise, though the Fathers had called for several more clansmen than they usually did. She still hopes for a few more children some day, but Garrid and the others should have returned over a month ago, and she's starting to worry. Without word from the Hills, she simply presses on, though she can't help but feel like... *something* must have gone very wrong.