I have nae memory of my true parents, for they perished when I was still too young to remember, so I am told.

 

I was adopted by a dwarven weaponsmith known only as Hammer.   The kind but stern forger was my only family. As I watched him work, I saw the dedication of his will, the power of his swing, the discipline of the flame, the truth of the metal, the confidence in rhythm, the courage in difficulty, and the glory of completion. Each day I saw these values demonstrated before my eyes, and would learn that the code applied to all of life, nae jus to the workshop:
  Honor, Valor, Faith, Honesty, Duty, Strength, Loyalty.
These values are the highest standard, whether they make a weapon or a warrior.

 

Alas I was nae a good student, but Hammer taught me the basics and set me on the path. I often worked hard stoking the ovens and working the bellows, but preferred to deliver messages in town for a few coins instead of working in the hot workshop.  One day, the town blacksmith Jack handed me a map and told me to go fetch some iron.  I nae realized at first that I had to learn to make it! The mines were some distance from town, and that was my first taste of adventure.

 

I soon earned enough coin to buy a broadsword and some leathers, and continued exploring the town and the catacombs beneath.  I quickly learned how to skin, and now earned enough coin from the pelts to pay for a locker in Moot Hall and to pay my other living expenses.

 

It was at this time that an old man carrying a crystal who was in search of his cat approached me in town. Promising enlightenment and knowledge, the man directed me to a secret meeting place in town where I would meet the great Poohbah.  I was suspicious of the secrecy, but my pride in my abilities (particularly skinning) and my lust for knowledge at any cost were the seeds of misfortune.

 

As I grew in the power of secret knowledge, the lust for higher priced skins led me to hunt the prized puma hides.  I soon discovered a cave nearby, that was literally a pit of fire infested with cats whose trophies were even more valuable.  Since I was accustomed to the heat from working in the forge, I spent much time in the caves battling the swarms of cats and collecting my coin.

 

I had finally attained enough skill in battle to wield a weapon of vultite, a precious but difficult material to forge.  However, when I saw the quality of the vultite weapons sold by the dwarves who arrived in the monstrosity called the Juggernaut, I knew I had to have the broadsword no matter what the cost. The weapon I purchased was one of very few in the lands which has the workmanship of those made by Hammer.

 

Holding a fine weapon like that brought all of Hammer's lessons back. I knew in my heart I had strayed from the path, and was now sprinting in the wrong direction. Rejecting my secret knowledge and the power it brought me was one of the hardest things I had ever done, but I knew I must.

 

Seeing me sitting in town square cradling my new weapon in my sorrow and pain, an old warrior hobbled over and consoled me by telling me of another society called Voln, where I could cleanse myself of my past sins in the pool and begin again with a renewed spirit pledged to combat evil and free the trapped souls of the cursed.  What I felt in that moment, was better than an empath taking all my critical wounds!

 

I learned that day the values of Humility and Mercy.  Just as a weapon is tempered so it does not become brittle and shatter, the code is balanced by these.

 

It has been many years since that day.  I am now a Master of Voln and a Warrior Guildmaster with many adventures behind me, but I am still on the path, the errant but willing student.

 

<Balantine reaches into his backpack and pulls out a worn mandolin and begins strumming a jaunty tune>

 

<In a quiet voice, he recites rather than sings the lyrics>

 

"I seek to be a humble knight,
 Who turned from darkness to the light,
 Pledged heart and blade to what is right,
 With all my strength and skill and might."

 

"I've messengered, I've worked the mine,
 In many Inns I've drank the wine,
 And trained in many skills so fine,
 Warcats, I've skinned more lives than nine."

 

"I'll pick or bash your box or trunk,
 I'll free the cursed, then see the monk,
 Ale and potions have I drunk,
 Come morn in barracks will I bunk."

 

"In battle will I meet my fate,
 Despite the fact my armor's plate,
 I'm bit and thumped and clawed in hate,
 Then healed by empaths at the gate."

 

"The one I serve holds Ebon's key,
 Death's bonds will ne'er chain the free,
 M'Lady's favor is strong in me,
 I pass the Gate with certainty."

 

"Until the day our work shall end,
 And nae more wounds exist to tend,
 There be nae broken hearts to mend,
 So long as I can call ye friend."