Post by Jim (Wee Mad Haimish/Gütts) on Jan 25, 2020 11:52:44 GMT
Pintsized, drunk, fur covered and angy
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Haimish, grew up like many other Ghostwise Halflings, in silence and seclusion from other races. His parents were adamant that other races customs were not only strange but also wrong.
As a young impressional youth, Haimish often joined his parents in their festivities and rituals, especially the Feast of the Stags every year where he would help to hunt to provide meat for the orphans, widows and elderly of Chondalwood. Life was good, as he became older he was invited to more Rituals of Malar, but this time it was the High Hunt, or as some call it the Wild Hunt and the Hunted was Haimish, his own parents, had volunteered him as the mark to the Huntmaster.
This is where he found his rage, this deep-rooted primal urge to smash and maim, leaving him the last man standing. As the dawn broke, Haimish was standing in the middle of a clearing covered in blood and guts on a pile of bodies, a pile which included his own parents.
Needless to say, there was no longer any reason for Haimish to stay in his ancestral home, and he set off to forget his past, into the lands of men he went, but the memories of his parent’s lifeless eyes staring up at him were hard to forget, but thank the gods the world of men had strong intoxicants to help the matter.
Drinking, brawling and stealing he made his way towards the coast of the shining sea, where he found some conviction in his parents’ xenophobic words. The men of Calimport did not see the ‘Good Folk’ as their equals, and before he knew any better, he found himself Shanghaied into service on a merchants boat, en route towards the newfound lands of Kantas...
Haimish, grew up like many other Ghostwise Halflings, in silence and seclusion from other races. His parents were adamant that other races customs were not only strange but also wrong.
As a young impressional youth, Haimish often joined his parents in their festivities and rituals, especially the Feast of the Stags every year where he would help to hunt to provide meat for the orphans, widows and elderly of Chondalwood. Life was good, as he became older he was invited to more Rituals of Malar, but this time it was the High Hunt, or as some call it the Wild Hunt and the Hunted was Haimish, his own parents, had volunteered him as the mark to the Huntmaster.
This is where he found his rage, this deep-rooted primal urge to smash and maim, leaving him the last man standing. As the dawn broke, Haimish was standing in the middle of a clearing covered in blood and guts on a pile of bodies, a pile which included his own parents.
Needless to say, there was no longer any reason for Haimish to stay in his ancestral home, and he set off to forget his past, into the lands of men he went, but the memories of his parent’s lifeless eyes staring up at him were hard to forget, but thank the gods the world of men had strong intoxicants to help the matter.
Drinking, brawling and stealing he made his way towards the coast of the shining sea, where he found some conviction in his parents’ xenophobic words. The men of Calimport did not see the ‘Good Folk’ as their equals, and before he knew any better, he found himself Shanghaied into service on a merchants boat, en route towards the newfound lands of Kantas...