Sir Papeth
Novice
Sir Papeth had humble beginnings. Born into poverty, living in the dregs of Prevalia, overlooked and forgotten by society. His father was a boat worker, and smuggled at times. Ended up rotting away in cells due to him smuggling. I am not hear to bore you with origin stories though, for that is the past. I am hear to gift you with stories of the present.
Sir Papeth and the Hood Bandits (as well as other criminals who fought with Hood) were passing by what some people refer to as "The Haven." Sir Papeth enjoyed coming here from time to time to rob and loot people affiliated with the guild known as The Pathfinders. Not only that, he found the architectural design pleasing to the eye. The large Path keep towered above the tree tops, thick exterior walls made the keep impenetrable. Sir Papeth had heard stories of others breaching it once, but he had never been inside. He took pleasure in chasing and killing anyone lingering beyond it’s protection. Sometimes he would throw rotten eggs at the walls. When the sun was hot, the egg yolk could stain for months.
The gang hung around and then suddenly, a battle was upon them. A company of Pathfinders, dressed in armor and wielding weapons of war, came rushing towards the gang. One of them used a magical rope and within seconds he was right in the face of Papeth. The warrior swung his sword towards Papeth. Papeth pulled back on his magical mount and swerved away from the blade. His comrades were also taken by surprised, everyone was struggling to get space between them and the Pathfinders defending the area. The Hood Bandits were forced to ride south down the road. Earlier they had discussed this, if needed they would run towards Ogre Valley. The narrow mountain passes would make for a suitable spot to defend from.
The Pathfinders pursued, high in morale as the Hood Bandits continued their flight. Soon enough the battle had been carried into ogre valley. As the roads narrowed the band of mages suddenly turned. Commands were shouted and a volley of coordinated curses flew towards the Pathfinders. The Pathfinders were caught off guard, their formation had loosened in the chase and their position was unorganized.
They turned to retreat back out of the narrow pass but they had inadequate room to maneuver in. They ran into each other, their mounts clashing and their heavy armor slowing down their ability to turn and rotate. From the skies above lighting bolts rained. Soon enough, the company of Pathfinders were nothing more besides burnt corpses.
A wandering healer, just down the road, watched the events unfold. He didn’t intervene, but he gave Sir Papeth dirty looks. A ghostly spirit was brought back to life. Sir Papeth saw that is was one of the warriors he had just slain. He felt a bit of envy. That warrior had probably never spent time wandering the underworld like Papeth had. It was easy for life to be restored to those deemed “virtuous”. But for Papeth, it was agony. Wandering around, restricted in time, lost and cold in the void. Sometimes it took days for Papeth to find a healer to bribe to return him to his mortal state. The after life was bitter to him, he never wanted to return, but knew eventually he would. Yet, that day was not today.
The warrior came up, staggering back and forth weak from the resurrection. Before Papeth could speak the warrior blurted out incoherent statements. It made no sense to Sir Papeth.
Sir Papeth figured he was just delusion from his recent death. He didn’t care to make sense of the man, he had little care to understand the Pathfinders. The bodies had been picked cleaned and his comrades were eager to move on. Sir Papeth simply warned the man, lit his pipe, and then road off into Ogre Valley.
One day Sir Papeth was riding north of ogre valley. He came across a miner, he didn’t know who the miner was but for some reason believed him to be a hard and honest worker. The man was struggling to hold his packhorse still when Sir Papeth rode up.
The man did not try to run, instead he begged just to continue working. Sir Papeth chuckled and told the man not to fear him. Papeth did not want to bother him, Papeth respected his dedication. Only a brave man would be in the back hills of ogre valley half naked, and mining.
Sir Papeth gave the miner his blessing and protection, all that he asked was that the miner hurry.
The miner was grateful for the help. Without a second to waste he went back to swinging his pick ax into the mountain side. When some bandits came to try and rob the miner Sir Papeth quickly summoned magical creatures that held off the attackers. Sir Papeth, not needing the ore, told the man to keep the ore he was working for.
The miner worked and conversated with Sir Papeth, sharing bits about his life and family. Soon enough, the ore had been collected. The miner had loaded his packy, and he was all ready to set off. He thanked Sir Papeth for his help. Sir Papeth wished the miner good luck and gave him a small blessing before he recalled away to Prevalia. Sir Papeth lingered on some old memories of Prevalia before ordering his magical mount to ride off down the road.
Sir Papeth took off his Orc skin mask and let out a deep sigh. He was exhausted and in pain. His face was stained in smoke and dirt, and his body was covered in cuts and bruises. He leaned back in his chair and poured a bottle of rum over his left arm. The alcohol flowed into a wound causing Papeth to flinch in pain. He paused for a second and then poured again. Usually he didn’t worry about magical wounds caused by spells, they were clean wounds. But, he didn’t want to run the risk of infection from the dirt that might’ve gotten inside. He wrapped his arm up in a small bandage and then grabbed a pipe from a table in front of him. He packed away some fine herb, lit it up, and inhaled. Soon enough he found himself wandering into deep thoughts about the day that had just passed.
*Memory begins*
Sir Papeth and his loyal band rode fast down the dirt road. From behind, spells and curses flew their way. A magic arrow came whizzing by cutting through his left arm. A few inches to the right and the arrow would had pieced straight into his back. The deep wound instantly began to bleed but Sir Papeth barely felt it as adrenaline pumped through his body.
Behind them chasing were warriors known as PEC. Ferocious fighters who had decent skill. In the dungeon fighting against a full PEC force was almost certain death. On the field though, it was a different story. Their tamed animals couldn’t keep up and their mounted fighting skills were nothing THAT special. Yet, Sir Papeth knew to respect their capabilities and knew that on the field they were still a challenging and dangerous foe.
The PEC warriors were out for vengeance. The Hood Bandits had slain two of them in the nearby dungeon known as The Mausoleum. This was the reason why they had mustered against Sir Papeth in the first place. They were here to kill him and avenge their fallen brothers. Sir Papeth knew that this fight was personal.
Outnumbered and with the enemy hot on their heels the Hood Bandits knew that they had to make a decision. As the chase continued down the road Sir Papeth noticed that the assaulting PEC formation was starting to thin out and become unorganized. Capitalizing on the situation Sir Papeth used a frenzied volley of spells to force back the oncoming PEC pursuers and give his company some space. With a few seconds to spare the Hood bandits prepared to strike back. Once the spell volley from Papeth had ceased the PEC warriors came charging back.
Sir Papeth yelled out his commands and the two charging sides exchanged fire. Curses and spells flew widely. The scene erupted into brief chaos and echoes of magical warfare carried into the nearby countryside. Just as soon as the clash began, it suddenly ceased. In the wake of the clearing smoke a lifeless PEC warrior laid still on the road. The PEC pursuers were now in a full retreat. The tide had turned.
Back up the road the Hood Bandits chased. Harassing PEC with spells and slowing them down with curses. Eventually one fell behind. His comrades briefly carried on before noticing that this poor soul was in an extremely unfortunate position. Like hungry wolves to a lamb the Hood Bandits devoured him.
The remaining PEC warriors routed at the sight of another slayed brethren. Their rank and formation was no longer organized and they fled chaotically through the woods. The Hood Bandits, not yet satisfied with their victory, pursued. A PEC straggler was chosen as their next victim. Unable to move quickly through the terrain the Hood Bandits closed the gap and were soon right behind him. The PEC straggler desperately tried to run into a wagon and hide but it was too late. The Hood Bandits were simply too fast and too skilled at maneuvering through the trees. In his own home the PEC soldier was brutally executed. His body left to bleed out and stain the floors of the wooden wagon.
*Memory ends*
Sir Papeth found himself taken back to reality when he heard a few guild members recall into the guild house. He stood up, stretched, finished the herb in his pipe, and then walked off downstairs carrying the bottle of rum. He had enough action for the day, now he simply wanted to get drunk.
*Memory begins*
Sir Papeth and his loyal band rode fast down the dirt road. From behind, spells and curses flew their way. A magic arrow came whizzing by cutting through his left arm. A few inches to the right and the arrow would had pieced straight into his back. The deep wound instantly began to bleed but Sir Papeth barely felt it as adrenaline pumped through his body.
Behind them chasing were warriors known as PEC. Ferocious fighters who had decent skill. In the dungeon fighting against a full PEC force was almost certain death. On the field though, it was a different story. Their tamed animals couldn’t keep up and their mounted fighting skills were nothing THAT special. Yet, Sir Papeth knew to respect their capabilities and knew that on the field they were still a challenging and dangerous foe.
The PEC warriors were out for vengeance. The Hood Bandits had slain two of them in the nearby dungeon known as The Mausoleum. This was the reason why they had mustered against Sir Papeth in the first place. They were here to kill him and avenge their fallen brothers. Sir Papeth knew that this fight was personal.
Outnumbered and with the enemy hot on their heels the Hood Bandits knew that they had to make a decision. As the chase continued down the road Sir Papeth noticed that the assaulting PEC formation was starting to thin out and become unorganized. Capitalizing on the situation Sir Papeth used a frenzied volley of spells to force back the oncoming PEC pursuers and give his company some space. With a few seconds to spare the Hood bandits prepared to strike back. Once the spell volley from Papeth had ceased the PEC warriors came charging back.
Sir Papeth yelled out his commands and the two charging sides exchanged fire. Curses and spells flew widely. The scene erupted into brief chaos and echoes of magical warfare carried into the nearby countryside. Just as soon as the clash began, it suddenly ceased. In the wake of the clearing smoke a lifeless PEC warrior laid still on the road. The PEC pursuers were now in a full retreat. The tide had turned.
Back up the road the Hood Bandits chased. Harassing PEC with spells and slowing them down with curses. Eventually one fell behind. His comrades briefly carried on before noticing that this poor soul was in an extremely unfortunate position. Like hungry wolves to a lamb the Hood Bandits devoured him.
The remaining PEC warriors routed at the sight of another slayed brethren. Their rank and formation was no longer organized and they fled chaotically through the woods. The Hood Bandits, not yet satisfied with their victory, pursued. A PEC straggler was chosen as their next victim. Unable to move quickly through the terrain the Hood Bandits closed the gap and were soon right behind him. The PEC straggler desperately tried to run into a wagon and hide but it was too late. The Hood Bandits were simply too fast and too skilled at maneuvering through the trees. In his own home the PEC soldier was brutally executed. His body left to bleed out and stain the floors of the wooden wagon.
*Memory ends*
Sir Papeth found himself taken back to reality when he heard a few guild members recall into the guild house. He stood up, stretched, finished the herb in his pipe, and then walked off downstairs carrying the bottle of rum. He had enough action for the day, now he simply wanted to get drunk.
Sir Papeth paced back and forth. He was eager to hear an update on the situation. Some days ago a unit of Andarian soldiers had taken up a post in the farms east of the city. In a landmark known as The Rolling Hills. It was an elevated rolling valley of fields, most of it farm lands for cabbage, carrots, and wheat.
He disagreed with the incursion,, but it’s not like his opinion was considered anyway. City law had him labeled as an outlaw. Lucky for Sir Papeth, The Rolling Hills were outside of guard zone, he was free to travel and trade there. Sometimes he got lucky and found treasure hunters taking buried riches. He would chase away the diggers and take the wealth, usually sharing it with the local farmers.
The thought of soldiers occupying the area sickened him and he desired their removal. He asked a comrade, a skilled and feared warrior known as Suzy Rivers to complete the task. She was cool with the request, especially because he offered her bags fine herbs, jugs of aged wine, and stacks of gold. She asked another Hood comrade to assist her, a skilled shadow archer. He happily agreed.
Using the recall spell Suzy and her partner were quick to The Rolling Hills. The camp was spotted in the middle of a field. The unit of soldiers were caught off gaurd when one was hit with an iron bolt. The metal tip penetrate the soldier’s leather gorget and struck his jugular. Blood spurted out staining the ground. Suzy used both her sword skill and magic to cut down her opponents. They were little match for her abilities. She out manuevered the footmen and blocked incoming arrows with magical charms. She summoned lighting bolts and casted mindblasts, the shield formation the footmen tried to make was easily scattered. A few were picked off by her spells, magical fire arrows tearing into their body and limbs. The captain tried his best to rush her but she casted an energy bolt that tore through his breastplate. He tried to hang on to his horse’s reigns but a crushing blow from Suzy’s halberd sent him toppling. The soldiers lost heart when they saw their captain fall and tried to flee. The Hood shadow archer took them out.
The skirmish didn’t last long, the camp was now empty besides for Suzy and her comrade. She searched through some crates and bag. Nothing much, just some food and ale. The captain also had very little on his body. Just a book and some bandages.
“Poor and in service to the rich.” She thought to herself. “Sent to the slaughter like lambs, here to enforce the will of the elite.” She felt a little bad, but began rationalized within. Tthey had made their choice. They had turned their backs on the land when they made their oath to the nobility and not to the commoner. They were on the wrong side of history, or so she thought. She departed from the area, leaving the bodies to the local wildlife.
He disagreed with the incursion,, but it’s not like his opinion was considered anyway. City law had him labeled as an outlaw. Lucky for Sir Papeth, The Rolling Hills were outside of guard zone, he was free to travel and trade there. Sometimes he got lucky and found treasure hunters taking buried riches. He would chase away the diggers and take the wealth, usually sharing it with the local farmers.
The thought of soldiers occupying the area sickened him and he desired their removal. He asked a comrade, a skilled and feared warrior known as Suzy Rivers to complete the task. She was cool with the request, especially because he offered her bags fine herbs, jugs of aged wine, and stacks of gold. She asked another Hood comrade to assist her, a skilled shadow archer. He happily agreed.
Using the recall spell Suzy and her partner were quick to The Rolling Hills. The camp was spotted in the middle of a field. The unit of soldiers were caught off gaurd when one was hit with an iron bolt. The metal tip penetrate the soldier’s leather gorget and struck his jugular. Blood spurted out staining the ground. Suzy used both her sword skill and magic to cut down her opponents. They were little match for her abilities. She out manuevered the footmen and blocked incoming arrows with magical charms. She summoned lighting bolts and casted mindblasts, the shield formation the footmen tried to make was easily scattered. A few were picked off by her spells, magical fire arrows tearing into their body and limbs. The captain tried his best to rush her but she casted an energy bolt that tore through his breastplate. He tried to hang on to his horse’s reigns but a crushing blow from Suzy’s halberd sent him toppling. The soldiers lost heart when they saw their captain fall and tried to flee. The Hood shadow archer took them out.
The skirmish didn’t last long, the camp was now empty besides for Suzy and her comrade. She searched through some crates and bag. Nothing much, just some food and ale. The captain also had very little on his body. Just a book and some bandages.
“Poor and in service to the rich.” She thought to herself. “Sent to the slaughter like lambs, here to enforce the will of the elite.” She felt a little bad, but began rationalized within. Tthey had made their choice. They had turned their backs on the land when they made their oath to the nobility and not to the commoner. They were on the wrong side of history, or so she thought. She departed from the area, leaving the bodies to the local wildlife.
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