Preface: This is the beginning of the back-story I had in mind when I created the first two characters on this account close to 20 years ago, and what I've kept in mind ever since for them. This definitely isn't the last of it, so I may post more if I get inspired again and the response isn't too vicious. An important fact for those that don't know Sixle: She carries a fire flaring runestaff that has the decaying head of a troll impaled on it.
The Story:
Sixle sat at the table in the small house and grumbled softly to herself as she leaned over the musty tome full of writing and illustrations of anatomy. Having learn such a thing both baffled and frustrated her to no end. Aeia had seen fit to grant her proficiency in taking the wounds of others as well as adeptness at the magic to heal them once they were on her. What use was knowing that the heart had four chambers or what order the blood flowed through them when she could heal it simply by maintaining calm and focusing on making herself whole again?
The young sylph was just turning the page to an elaborate illustration of how the blood moved from the heart to the lungs and back again when her attention was ripped from the tome by the sounds of a commotion outside. Men yelling warnings were almost immediately followed by the sounds of weapons rending armor and the few local magic users frantically casting wards. She didn't even have time to rise from her seat before her father burst through the door, immediately barring it behind himself before turning to her.
A look of desperation on his face she could not recall ever seeing before as he spoke, "Quickly, lass! Get to the cellar before...."
His words cut off abruptly as the barred door behind him suddenly exploded inwards with enough force to toss him violently against the hearth on the opposite side of the room. Sixle heard the sickening sound of her father's head caving in against the stone as she stared in horror at the sight of what had so easily rent the heavily barred door. What could only be a troll bent low to pass through the doorway, a malicious grin on it's face when it rose to it's full height.
She heard an ear-piercing scream for what seemed an eternity before realizing it was coming from her own throat, the grizzly creature taking it's time advancing on her as she retreated blindly towards the far wall. The wicked grin never leaving the trolls face as it's massive hand rose and it leaned back, preparing to deliver what would surely be a lethal blow to the cowering girl.
Frozen with fear and unable to avert her eyes from the ugly form before her, Sixle saw a flash of movement behind the beast just as the meaty fist started to descend. The troll's head still grinning as it was ripped violently from it's shoulders to collide with the ceiling, a flash of light burst behind the troll before it's body was incinerated by blinding flames. When the girl's vision cleared, she saw her mother standing over the pile of ashes with the troll's head impaled on the end of her runestaff as the woman uttered, "Neva $@# wit a motha's child."
Shock replacing all other emotion at the sound of her mother swearing as the woman rushed to Sixle and hugged her tightly. Speaking softly but quickly into her ear, "Ah wish ah could come with an ah wish ah could send yea somewhere betta, but there isnae time. Yea'll beh safe where ah'm sendin yea, dun yea werry..."
Her mother thrust the runestaff into one hand as she took the other firmly into her hand. Looking into her daughter's eyes as she spoke her last words to her daughter, "Ah love you, child... ah'll come get yea."
The last thing Sixle saw before the gold ring was thrust onto her finger and her surroundings suddenly shifted was a troll rushing into the room, sword raised high and just beginning it's descent towards her mother.
Starchitin, the OG
A severed gnomish hand crawls in on its fingertips and makes a rude gesture before quickly decaying and rotting into dust. A gust of wind quickly scatters the dust.
