twenty one years ago Rinehart Stamirsk was born to Silvester Stamirsk and Macie Stamirsk both humans but to the was father a highlander and a mother who was a heartlander. unlike many of this tribe he grew up understanding both cultures. early in his life learning the art of trading and the heart lander currency. While in his teen years Rinehart learned bow crafting, and the craft of hunting and pelt making. He learned how to play the viol about age seventeen. When he turned nineteen Silvester fell ill and didn't recover. When Macie tried to pick up the pieces she became more of a shut in isolating her from the rest of the villiage other than Rinehart. However word spreads quickly and the news was spoken in the tavern of the heartlander using dark magic to bring illness to the towns bravest hunter the cult members of Sordran began rounding up torches and began burning down the town believing it to be cursed. this event would be known as the civil war of Skagafjoror between the cultists and normal folk who didn't buy into the nonsense or were close to the family. the town folk were underprepared when the cultists came marching in with heavy plate amour beginning to burn anything and anyone who tried to stand in their way. it was almost a slaughter.
Rinehart along with the few non cultists fled into the nearby forests running in different directions the screams filling the air as the quiet town was no more. The fires engraving into his memory of the destruction it caused. when he was far enough away he broke down having an mental breakdown showing him flashes of the horrifying truth that was to became of the people. When he gained consciousness he had to confirm what his thoughts were telling him was the truth. He entered the ruins of the village seeing charred bodies, destroyed homes, all he has ever known. Wiped away by the cult of Sordran as he search's the rubble of his home for anything useful he would find only one notebook he has never seen before it was a leather-bound journal with the symbol of a feather, with only one instruction. "go to rimeveld due south".
Rinehart would look to the man. "ah hello there, nothing like that I have traveled a large distance, and just looking for a place to sell my self crafted pelts then find a place to rest my head. boat travel is tiring for me." he said with a jolly smile "perhaps fine sir you could point me in the direction of both. that would be kind of you. and I could play you a song from my people" as Rinehart would begin pulling out the viol. "hunter by trade and a bard by passion."
Recommended Comments