Caramin – HISTORY of Caramin…
WILL: Lodged with Elemental Temple in Salt Marsh and copy on scroll tube in medical satchel
= Elemental temple; if I die, they can have it all.
Background: His parents are a mystery. His mother was an orc, and his father was a human. The circumstances of how it happened, his mother never told him. Those in the tribe hinted he was a slave, and died.
He was raised by his mother, and she sought out the shaman to teach him the language of humans so that he may have a better chance of survival as a half breed – she knew he may one day have to leave the tribe to survive. Instead of him learning the ways or the Orrish, the growls, the intimidation, and the blood sport, he learned the history of the lands and the tongue of humans as well. He grew up partly nomadic as a hunter-gatherer. He was taught to respect the land, the wind, the sun and the rain. As his tribe was not very accepting of him (as a half breed), he spent many hours alone in the woods and hills. He talked to animals and plants to practice his speech and because he was lonely. He laid on the dirt and listened to the grass and branches, smelled the animals, felt the branches and leaves that would float down, and played a game to sit so still that critters would actually perch on him. Those witnessing it distanced themselves even more. He volunteered to be a wood cutter, it was one of the most solitary jobs he could get within the tribe – to keep him away from the brutal warriors and ridicule of the larger full blood kids and adults. He got good with climbing and axes (large and small) this way, learning to fell trees very swiftly. While felling wood for travois for the tribe, he was set upon by the tribes hunters. They had cornered a coyote and slain it, and were in an excited state. They beat him severely and he fled to the edge of the forest. He came upon the coyote den with pups. These were the first animals he learned to care for. Thereafter he made a point of finding animal orphans and raising them. Mostly he would trade within the tribe and sometimes with humans. Animal husbandry became a passion.
Among his tribe, he kept to himself, he is usually quiet and observant, his folk thought him dim. He learned that half-breeds are not listened to, and only good for menial tasks. Equality was not part of his peoples way – gender, race, and power dictated procedure, not rights or laws. He learned to make himself invisible – stay silent, small, and unobtrusive. He walked as quietly as he could, everywhere he went to avoid casual notice and ridicule. He learned how not to draw attention to himself. When he could not avoid the others, and he must fight, he learned to take a beating, and to fight multiple foes at once. They would pile upon him and beat him until he could not walk.
The tribe grew, and traded with the human lands. His people migrated and hunted. They slowly became more sedentary. Eventually they and the humans mingled and he spent more time with the humans – he was small and weak in his tribe, but among the humans he felt large and strong. Hunting was something he could do for him and his mother alone, and he grew his skills around this. His self reliance and avoidance in the tribe was a two edged sword. Although he learned means of avoiding notice and pushed down his natural instinct to violence (which his stronger tribe members would only exploit when he did fight), he did not learn much in the way of socializing. Interacting with humans had to be learned as if he were starting over again. His self reliance had to be overcome, if he wanted to fit in with humans. This took years of being seen at the edges of crowds and gatherings without interacting at all – it took a couple years for them to grow used to his presence. He suffered through beating and being chased out of town several times, but never fought back. Gradually they tolerated him, though trust was a long time coming.
He was in the crowd at an execution on the side where the stage blocked many from seeing him, when the aging executioner tripped. He assisted, preventing him from falling off, and turning the ritual and act into a embarrassing travesty. Afterward, the aging man talked to him and encouraged him to apprentice himself. He became an apprentice with two others – the humans largely wanted nothing to do with the trade, but could not abide a half breed doing it. He said he was 19, but in reality he was only 14. The town of Dorath grew to a city of 10,000 with rolling farmlands over the next few years. He learned patience in hunting, and the slow progress of the law and career. Tolerance did grow to trust for a few, but mostly none would talk to him unless they must. He was lonely. He learned that a well groomed figure would at least break with some of the stereotypes, and began to keep himself immaculately cleaned and organized. The more trappings of civilization he donned, the more he could move among them with notice and hostility. He still slept on the outskirts. He took to raising typical animals as companions, and this too help the human accept him, though he could not help himself and soon stranger animals became pets and he had to keep those hidden.
After years, and much experience with the headsman, bounty hunters, jailers, and judges, he was able to officially enter the ranks of jailers and headsmen. He took his oath to never be judge or jury, only executioner. He accepted the marks (tattoos) on his forehead and the backs of his hands, of the closed eye. His teacher made him swear an oath to execute the lawfully appointed authorities command to watch over and punish those detained by the law. The law is what protected him and his position in a society that was not overly welcoming – so he adopted its letter wholeheartedly.
He was swept up in a war between some nomadic humans who moved into the region from the south and his adopted city. The reservoir of fury held in check by the ways of law and civilization was unleashed. He did well, but many of his fellow militia volunteers were scared of him now – and no amount of goodwill would ease them. He served as the army jailer executioner as well, after the fighting, to keep out of the way. The nomads were conquered, and they were driven off or settled in villages and became part of the growing city state. It was a tumultuous time – there were many executions while they assimilated, from breaking unfamiliar laws. Caramin performed all of them by witnessing their trials, and with dignity and stoic silence under his hood.
After a year, his services were no longer needed as much full time. He served in the city watch, then the military, mostly as a scout outside the city. Learned to use the crossbow against the marauders of Merowey. The job of gaoler and executioner was without much activity, and there were multiple people competing for the job of full time replacement. At 25, he decided to let his friend that he trained with, Luke, take the official role of executioner for the city state of Dorath. His mother had died and his people had been settled or resumed their hunter-gatherer ways and left the area. The people had grown afraid of him, with rumors of his savage ferocity making people distrust him. His solitary ways earned him no favor, and he increasing looked to his animals and withdrew from the community. He knew he had to go somewhere else and start over. He left to make his fortune. He vowed never to let his violent nature ruin his chances again.
Cast out and alone, Caramin goes east, to the coast. He fends for himself off the land, and enjoys the freedom of seeing and traveling great distances with the company of birds, insects and the grass of the plains. He works his way north along the coast, encountering his first villages. Mostly fishing hovels, his visage triggered screams and often running. While they hid, he would get a sense of things needing to be moved, boats and nets hauled, and minor repairs. He enticed them back with a willingness to work in trade, and used his animals to enjoin the humans to be friendly. He learned to swim and to haul large nets in shore hugging boats and from the shallows – it was good to develop his patience. His temper would get the best of him in many places, and he would eventually leave. It took him a year to make his way to Hiddzwaur (the Kaithlen were pushed out) – following the tales and news from the greatest town of the area. It took all his abilities to avoid the Kaithlen and the burgeoning struggle that tore the area apart. Humans were trying to settle the ancient Kaithlen lands, Kaithlen were roaming in small packs, and folks were tying to create farmsteads to work the land. Hiddzwaur was the island of stability for 50 miles, and a destination for the few seeking their fortune unconventionally – at least 1-2 travelers a day would pass through. He was told by the coastal villagers that rumors had it for years that it was growing and attracting “city types” slowly, Caramin decided that he may find a need for his talents there. Hiddzwaur was no longer active though, but had many farmsteads and a thriving maritime community that was rebuilding around the ruins. Fear of the Kaithlen kept many away still. It reminded him of the early days of Dorath. This made it a clear target, and Caramin knew that he had matured and honed his skills in the hundreds of miles to get to the town – he was ready. He spent 2 years, a near permanent member of the militia. He lived simply, and for trade in goods. Because of his aversion to material wealth, his friendly dog, and quiet disposition using all he had learned, he felt he was accepted swiftly compared to everywhere else he had been. There was a growing movement to rename the town, though to what no one could decide (“Salt Marsh” being the name with the most weight). While not actively patrolling outside the walls, he could often be found on the docks, catapulting children into the cool waters under the sun. For once, he actually felt part of a community.
>> Hiddzwaur/Salt Marsh Campaign Record – what happened in Hiddzwaur <<
Dear friends,
There seems to have been confusion on how and what governs our operations in Salt Marsh. Lacking was grace, mercy, law, and sacrifice. I witnessed greed, blood lust and a group willing to use the highest honor of pursuing citizenship as a means of legitimizing violence. I cannot be part of that. I sought justice, others sought loot. I am leaving to hunt my own creature for armor, to prove I am worthy. When I return, I will hear your thoughts one final time before finding my way on my own. I will seek you out then.
Be well, and may the headsman’s axe swing wide.
-Caramin
Caramin was left without allies he could trust. There were too many unexplained happenings, and too many loose ends to leave without looking after them. He documented everything with the help of the priest at the elemental temple of Dennio, and made sure his contacts in town knew that a record existed of everything he had uncovered since coming here (he hinted that there was a backup copy, hidden away somewhere). Looking to make sure he had a way out over sea, he set sail with Zendrevs, acting as a privateer and keeper of discipline for the crew. In return, he helped take down enough of the beasts to make himself some skum armor. Zendrevs, in return, helped him with the knowledge and materials to treat the hide effectively. For 30 days did he sail at sea with the “demon pirate”, and parted on good terms should he need a way out of the area.
The population of Salt Marsh did not grow quite as rapidly as everyone hoped. Pressures from the other species in the area, Montvin and even a reassessment of the relationship with the elves have caused a alarming increase in militarism in the community. Its not been a safe place to travel unless only the main roads are used. Mercenaries are tying up trade routes, and small armies are being fielded. Everyone is uncertain about the outcome. Caramin has offered his services up to travel overland, off the beaten path to ensure communications and critical supplies keep flowing. He has served as a guide for the last few months, and a coast watcher for the town. He is a common site on the edges of town and outside its walls and borders – he walks and is unmistakable from a distance from his own size, and the menagerie of animals that travel with him.
Aurora in distance, scouting for Salt Marsh. Encounter some old comrades, bands with them. Under the aurora they find bodies, mutated, mutilated, contorted. Red skin – burns. Human, undead, but not decaying normal undead. More attack, when they die a burst of radiant light burns all nearby. Crash the cleric kills some with his divine power, Caramin grabs him away from the last one, rolling to protect him. The rest of the party smoke down the remaining one that was next to him and Caramin protects him. The blood where it splashed is contaminated. One living survivor – a kaithlen! Calm him in his own tongue. Escort the cat creature to the Moon Well, go to Feywild, mirror pools, party dedicated to Tyrannus. Big fight, Moon Maiden blessing, return to Orlec.
6th level 9/25/2024 Saltmarsh Campaign
After helping hunt the illusionist in the old sea caves, he decided that the group was not something he was suited for. Though what they were doing was good and right, he led them back out of the seas to the boat, in the hopes that Biv and the others would be better and could continue without him.
System: i20 Incarna; Character Creation: 1/2020
Campaign Benefits: +1 feat (character creation/deep background)
Class/Level: Ranger 1st Beast Master; (UA variant + “Shikari”. [Add terrain choice per “Circle of the Land” as druid, at same levels as Favored Enemy; Second Wind 2 2nd/Action Surge @ 4th; Speech of Beast and Leaf (The ability to communicate – CHA check to Persuade w/Advantage in Land Circles – in a limited manner with beasts and plants. They can understand the meaning of your words, though you have no special ability to understand them in return.); no spells; @ 3rd level for a # time per Long Rest = Proficiency Bonus, can use Primeval Awareness to enact Protection vs. Good/Evil while on one of the chosen land/terrain; at 1st level 150% of normal HP]