Ethan's Journal - 8 Rhaan 998 YK

This dagger is exquisite. The balance perfect, the tip sharp. Even the blade, normally dull on a dagger, has a razor's edge to it. The hilt and crosspiece are intricate in their design and the jewel in the pommel must be priceless. I've never seen anything so beautiful, expect Larien, but that's different. Surely this dagger was crafted by a Master Artisan of House Cannith! Olladra has shone her light upon me to bless me with such a gift. I will call it 'Nibbler' for it's ability to strike through my enemies defenses.

It bothers me that Jonathon dismisses the find of the dagger so easily. Tower Spit! Does he not know what a treasure such as this is worth to me? Likely not, he grew up with dwarven craftsman and has seen weapons like this his whole life. Well it matters not what he thinks. Nibbler is an upgrade from the rusty blade I was using previously. I'll need to speak to Sterling about proper care and maintenance of such a weapon. He's always fussing with his equipment so surely he'll have some pointers for me. Perhaps I'll even get a closer look at the blade he claimed.

Jonathon's criticism aren't without merit. While my companions and I lived through the day, one of the people Eranin sent us to save did not. I hope he does not subtract this death from the gold he has paid us. Delian and Jonathon have come to words over this. Delian faulted Jonathon for his rash actions. For going in when the rest weren't prepared and for not having a plan. Yet, I can't fault Jonathon. He acted and followed his principles. My own instincts are to act, to just get the job done. Yet, I can't help but wonder if a plan might have aided us.

Another possibility tugs at me. I wonder if my own skill isn't up to the task. I had that one thug dead to rights! Six take me, but my shot should have dropped him. He didn't even see me. My bolt hit home between his ribs. It should have killed him. Instead he raised his halberd and killed that poor man. Delian and Jonathon are busy pointing blame at one another, but I fault myself. I feel that I have much to offer, but that I'm always falling short of what's required of me.

The bear we encountered in the caves was a terrifying sight! Ogre's Eyes, I thought Bug Bears were bad, but this beast was colossal! Braddoc's plan of dropping the gate on the creature was genius. As I reflect back on the encounter I realize that I was gripped with fear and for several moments was unable to act. My hands still shake as I think of it. I'll need to mask this trembling lest the others question my abilities. I can't let them know how truly terrified I was, this group is as close to a family as I've known. I don't want to loose them, I don't want to be cast out.

My thoughts now turn towards Delian's speech to the group. His words were harsh, yet he spoke with such conviction. I'd always heard that those who followed the Silver Flame were steadfast in their beliefs, perhaps this is an example of that. I wonder though if Delian isn't trying to subvert Jonathon and the Sovereign Host. My limited knowledge of the Silver Flame is that they don't have time for many other beliefs. I'll have to pay closer attention to what Delian says. It's all fine and well to believe in something, but not if it sabotages our group!

I also think I'm going to need to learn Dwarven! It angers me that Jonathon would insult the rest of us by speaking openly to Braddoc in a manner the rest could not understand. Clearly they shared some jest at the rest of our expense! Jonathon tries to live a life of honour, always quoting how this deity or that deity influences his actions. Then he deliberately slights us. If he has something to say, he should say it so that we can all hear and understand it. I know that Larien would never do such a thing.

Such thoughts tire me. Though I enjoy this new freedom I've discovered and I yearn for the next new adventure. I have come to realize that life was simpler back at the guild house. When all I needed to worry about was cleaning the stables and unloading freight. I'm afraid those days are gone for good. I miss them in a way, I realize I've lost some innocence. Though my life has never been easy, I'd managed to find a place. Now as we travel I question whether I'm up to the task, if the road Olladra has placed me on is right for me. I suppose I'll just have to trust and to do my best.

Eberk's Backstory

Physical Description: Green eyes, red hair, receding hair line (Caesar cut). Eberk has what appears to be a dead patch of skin on his chin. This is a result of an encounter with a ghoul in Atur. Eberk withstood the life draining effects of the foul creature, but was left permanently scarred. No hair grows here and Eberk’s beard is composed of large mutton chops that he draws down to a braid on either side of his chin.

Eberk was born in the Mror Holds to a minor Dwarven clan. His mother is a cleric and his father was a blacksmith. The youngest of 4, he has 2 brothers, and 1 sister. Both brothers died in the war. One fought as a mercenary for House Deneith and was killed in Audair. The other died at the hands of the Karrns when they turned on their Dwarven allies and attacked the Mror Holds in 981. Eberk’s sister was last known to be working for House Kundark, however she has not been heard from in 10 years. Eberk, who is 15 years younger than his next sibling, idolized his brothers, and wanted to fight in the war. Instead he was apprenticed to his father and spent time in the Chapel with his mother. His parents insisted on religious training for him. Eventually, Eberk found his true calling as a Cleric of the Sovereign Host. A few years later his father passed away and Eberk worked the forge part-time while completing his education.

When the war ended Eberk approached his mother explaining that if he was truly to serve the Dwarven people and the Sovereign Host he needed to go out and travel the world. Eberk’s received his mother’s blessing and he began his travels. His mother advised him to look up his father’s brother Ragnolin if he ever visited Sharn.

On his second week outside the Holds Eberk was attacked by a squad of orcs. Eberk slew several and forced the rest to flee. At the end of the battle Eberk realized he had called upon the Sovereign Host to aid him and that he had been answered. Testament to this Eberk realized he hadn’t taken a single wound in the battle. His resolved firmed Eberk continued on his journey.

It took 3 years, but Eberk finally made it to Sharn. He found his uncle running the Clifftop Adventurer’s guild. The first thing out of Ragnolin’s mouth when he saw his nephew was “Well you’re a scrawny one, I’ll put you to work in the Chapel, as chanting prayers is likely all your good for.” Eberk was stunned, at 4’9” and 207 lbs Eberk is large for his race. Back in the Mror Holds he was known as Eberk ‘Thunderstep’ Dourskin. However, Eberk accepted this assignment with the same grace and patience as when his parents sent him to study as a Cleric. Knowing that sooner or later he’d have an opportunity to prove his worth.

As Eberk left his uncle’s office Ragnolin leaned back in his livewood chair. So this was Gaunter’s youngest he mused. Might be he’s the best of the lot.