Aethan the Druid
Posted: Thu Dec 11, 2014 2:35 pm
Name: Aethan
Appearance:
Race: Human
Age: 32
Height 6'0"
Weight: 200 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Dark Brown, with strands of lighter blonde here and there
Facial Hair Style: Full Beard
Standing at a moderately tall height of exactly six feet, Aethan is hardly a physically imposing specimen of a man. He is healthy though, and his skin is tanned from the years outdoors.. yet he appears youthful despite his age. His cold blue eyes look out at the world around him as if they yearn to drink it in. Most often, his armor and clothing is adorned with bits of fur and hide from various animals.
Personality Profile:
General Health: Exemplary
Deity: Primarily Silvanus, but gives prayer to all Nature deities where appropriate
Initial Alignment: True Neutral
Profession: Druid
Base Class & Proposed Development: Druid (Pure)
Habits/Hobbies: Among hobbies, Aethan counts meditation among the most useful. Otherwise, he often finds comfort in speaking the language of the animals - it is not so much a universal language as Common is to men, after all, and so he practices it with creatures in order to find clarity of mind. Other less useful hobbies include the discovery (along with copious sampling) of new and exoctic drinks. Though not an alcoholic, foremost among his beliefs is that all things in life cannot be known truly until they are experienced.
Habbits on the other hand, well he has a couple. He has a difficult time with folks who reveal themselves to be uneducated dullards. It is, in fact, one of the few ways to truly raise his ire and provoke him into a conflict of force when he himself had not planned it as such. When irritated, he will often audibly suck air through his teeth and let escape an exasperated sigh. He also has (to the dismay of some) a tendency to lecture on his beliefs. He does not believe the same as many of his faith, and he is often quick to explain it... but most have no ear for his truth.
Still, habits from his days before Druidic life linger within, and occasionally one may find him reaching for a sword or dagger that is not there. He carries no metal weapons and as little as possible on his armor, and takes that bit of his Oath very seriously. It seems to have great symbolism to him in particular amongst Druids..
Languages: Druidic, Animal, Common, Elven, Dwarven, Cormanthian
Weapon of Choice: Nature's Fury
Background:
Like all stories, that of Aethan the Druid has a true beginning. Let us not dwell there, for it has little relevance to the story at hand. You want to know how and why Aethan became what he is? Then ask him.. he would tell it like this...
The tavern is dimly lit, and the drinking has gone on for some time. The strange man wearing so many furs with the strange tattoos visible on his arms has been hinting of his past all evening. Finally, you have asked the question. The man who claims the name Aethan has agreed to tell you, and you find you cannot wait to hear it. Who is this enigmatic man? He is clearly a wandering soul, a man far from home yet right at home here in this backwoods watering hole. A place filled with armed men and bandits laying low, a dangerous place for most men, yet he carries no sword? He does not look a mage, nor does he have the bearing of a priest. What is he? Where has he come from?
The drinks arrive at last, the round you've bought him for the tale. A welcome sight, you thirst for more than mead tonight. Oh... he's speaking..
"So you want to hear a tale, do you? All right, I shall oblige your curiosity good man.
A few years back, there was a soldier in a place quite far from here. A battle-priest to be precise, and his power was growing at a speed that surprised many, including himself. It is no surprise then, that this man had great responsibility thrust onto him. A leader of men and a slayer of them as well, he lived to serve his calling. The army he served was no military power-house, it was no force of a nation. It was a small force, a personal army of an unimportant scheming noble to which his family had been locked in servitude with for generations.
Not very interesting is it? Well lucky for you my new friend, this is only to give a frame of reference for what comes next.
It was a mission, an escort, for the pompous noble lordling that brought the catalyst to our tale. You see, scheming greedy little noblemen make many enemies as they trod over the backs of their peers to attain rank and power in their plotting games. It should come as no surprise, though for the soldier in our tale it certainly did, that during this simple escort mission there was an ambush. Into the High Forest they needed go, though why they the soldier could not say. He followed orders and that was that for a man of his station, high though it was amongst his peers in blind and helpless servitude. In the night came they, the warriors of their enemy. A force the soldier did not know, his scouts had failed, slain and gone.
What to do but to rally and fight? The noble, he screamed and he begged for a savior, but none was present that darkest of nights. The battle was dark and brutal as well, the axes and swords bit steel and rent flesh in a symphony of pointless death. It should have been the end for our soldier this night, his comrades were dead and their screams echoed in his waning consciousness. It reverberated through his marrow, and then the true horrors began..
The dark flickered and turned to fire! The enemy had a point to make, more scheming and more posturing for style. It could not be obvious what happened here or who had ordered the assault, yet it must still be known who was behind it. A conundrum for nobles, but not for a soldier. A soldier's place was to die and to burn, a message to some.
So what kind of story is this that I tell? Not very good, if that were it's end.
So what happened next, I see in your eyes you are perplexed.. but fear not fellow drunkard, It's only began..
You may have guessed this already, but before I go on I shall tell you plainly, the soldier was me. I was the man whose flesh was torn asunder by another man's cold steel, bleeding out I was, when the miracle began. The great turning point in my journey through life.
I could see it watching, the wolf in the dark, the flames and the death reflected in those predatory eyes from afar. Bleeding, I knew my time had come. I knew it as sure as I know the sun will rise mere hours from now, but a funny thing is the will to survive. I clawed in the dirt and pulled myself along, towards those flickering eyes. I knew it would eat me if I should survive the muddy crawl out of the battlefield. I had no idea what else to do, instincts I suppose drove me to seek out something alive and cling to it if I could. I prayed for salvation as I drew ever closer, then I saw the beast there. A great elder wolf with graying in its fur. It snarled as if to bite, and darkness took me then.
Obviously I did not die, for I would not be here. It turned out, that the wolf was a Great Druid whose circle guarded the area. I awoke to find the forest devastated from the fires. The Druids, a small circle, were still working to put out the flames before the wonton destruction of petty men took more of their homeland.
The Druidess, yes she was a woman that wolf, used her powers to regenerate my flesh and close the wounds as my innards healed. She was chastised by the others of her kin for showing mercy to a man they deemed responsible for the devastation at hand. They were right, and I am still grateful for the pity I was shown.
They took me back to their sacred grove, and they prayed to their gods that their land would be healed. Some set out to exact vengeance upon men where they could. I stayed with the Druidess that evening, in a small log hut in the forest. In the morning, she took me to a high hilltop from where I could see the sight of our demise. To this day, I have no explanation for what happened next.
When I saw the great black scar upon the magnificent forest, I wept. Yes, laugh away but I tell you true - a tear I did shed that brisk fall morning for the death of the forest. She merely smiled at me then, and we went on our way.
She explained to me the way of her people, the way of the Druid. I had heard of Druids before, for I am not daft of course, but the tales most people hear? Hogwash entirely! Do not harm woodland creatures? A lie! They will not take sides in a conflict? Orc dung, says I! They are reserved and boring? The greatest lie of them all, that.
I learned a great deal in the woods with that woman. I stayed for a while, my noble lordling charge was dead and crispy and I had no desire to continue soldiering on as it were.
Eventually, I came to understand. Balance is a great task Druids concern themselves with. This is NOT one of the lies people hear. Balance is cosmic, the picture so large only the wisest Druids together can ascertain the truth of it. Druids have much free will, and though their oaths are strict and binding, they are still PEOPLE beneath all the bluster. They make friends, they have goals and dreams, they love and they hate like any man.
Sure some of those Druids exist, the ones who will not eat meat or those that will stand by as their friends are slain because they fear taking sides with one over the other. They are zealots, they are narrow-minded folk who do not understand the forces they claim to grasp so well that they would watch friends die to control them. The truth is - perhaps the weight of it pushes many Druids to such extreme beliefs - that no single Druid, no matter how powerful they are, can tip the scales of the grand balance of all that is nature in any one direction at any given time.
Only when many Druids and their allies collaborate can balance be preserved or changed in some way on the grand scale. Some of them even teach that all the Gods came from nature, and so Nature and its deities are the progenitors of the others. I don't know if I believe that, but they make a valid point wouldn't you say?
Oh, my story.. right.
I begged the Druidess to teach me. I longed to live their life, it all made sense to me in a way that life before had not. She was hesitant, but I was persistent. Finally she agreed to initiate me into their order.
She warned me that the Oaths were sacred. To breach them was to forfeit their power and be shunned by others like them forever. Still, I vowed to undergo the ceremony.
I cannot tell you of the ceremonies or the sacred Oaths I took, for that is the same to us as blasphemy to a priest of Tyr. I will say, that one Oath was to never use Iron tools, weapons, or armor again if it can be helped. They told me I would be reborn in a sense, my slate wiped clean to start anew. A new man in an old body. So I was cleansed of my past, my armor was buried symbolically, along with my old sword.
I was a new man. My skills with a blade and with spells were long gone, a memory to which I can never return. I've gained in their stead, so very much more.. but the journey is long, and not near to its end. A fledgling at this that's what I am, so I wander the coast learning what I can."
With a raise of his glass it seems his story is at an end. He goes on to tell you a bit more about himself before turning in. He sleeps in the inn, like a normal village man, not like you have heard a druid would loathe to do. An interesting man with a long-winded tale. If you see him again, what else might he tell?
Goals:
- To travel the Sword Coast region and explore it entirely
To meet other Druids and learn of their views and allies
To develop a network of contacts in the area, both good and evil and all in between
To potentially join a formal Druidic Order in the area
To surpass other Druids by gaining more knowledge and growing his sphere of influence
To establish his own Grove and Circle that reflect his beliefs
- Aethan's past was that of a divine warrior of some kind in an unknown army. It is likely that men from that past could resurface and attempt to pull him back into his old life - or capture him for a bounty in his old homeland.
Aethan has no last name because he chose to drop it as a part of the Druidic Rites when he was inducted as an initiate.. He often gives it as other nature-based surnames such as "Treechild" or "Stormbender". It is possible his family could come looking, exposing his true identity - for good or ill.
The Druidess that heard his Oaths' and her circle could come calling
Aethan constantly struggles to avoid the use of iron and such things. Could he be goaded into breaking his oaths and losing his power? Would he find redemption and gain back his Druidic powers, or would he again take up the sword?