You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) "Uh-me?" Arculf says anxiously. Nervously, Arculf looks at the woman, back outside the tent, then back at the woman. With sweaty palms and a shaky posture, Arculf musters up, "You've been expecting me?"
Background:
Being an halfling, coming from generations of racial affairs between humans, elves, and dwarves- Arculf is a fifth generation half-ling. His father and mother were halflings, his grandparents were, and there parents were. His great-great grandparents were Elf and Dwarf. Being a fifth-generation half-ling, Arculf was raised from tradition. Ever since he was young, he’s helped his family farm crops, chop trees, care for the livestock, shop at markets, and help others within the community from the village he was raised in. Of course, whenever the village threw festivals or parties, Arculf was sure to have fun (you could find him drinking and acting a fool with his friends, or smoking- by watching him run away from girls or his angry mother).
Growing up, Arculf developed a love for books & stories. Whenever he was free from helping his family or communities’ affairs (smoking with friends), Arculf would read. His mother would often read him fairytales of the Elves magic, the Dwarves wonderful crafts, and the heroes of man before he slept every night. His favorite story, is of when his great-great grandparents first met. A collegiate Elven and a Dwarf blacksmith.
The Elven woman would often go to the great kingdom of the dwarves on behalf of the elves, to purchase orders of various supplies. The elves had already established strong relationships with some of the kingdom’s blacksmiths and she was already given their location within the kingdom- but a glimpse in her vision had caught her eye. A smolt-covered Dwarf, who could be seen working from his shop all-day, even at night, as the sparks and fires from his crafts would light his shop. Something about the dwarf drew her attention, whether it was the awful smell of fumes or his shortness- she couldn’t tell. When the elf came to the kingdom, she would spend getting to know the Dwarf. The elven woman grew fond of the Dwarves dedication to his work, and the Dwarf grew fond of the Elfs company. One day, the woman choose to come by the Dwarfs shop to purchase an order of bow and arrows from him. Knowing he needed to impress his hearts love, but also the Elves- the Dwarf stopped all other jobs and began at once. The Dwarf poured his life into every bow, arrow after arrow. He was almost finished the night of the order, with one arrow left to notch, until he had run out of fire from his smithing. He was distraught. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d thought to himself, “I failed to impress the one I think I love”. However, as if she was shot by an arrow coming from the Dwarves Kingdom, the elven woman wanted to come see the Dwarf. The woman arrived at the kingdom the same night, but when she saw no light coming from the dwarfs shop, she knew something was wrong. She ran through the street and up the steps to the shop, and swung the door open, only to look into a pitch-black room. Enclouded in the shops darkness, the dwarf emerged from the center of the shop. Love, joy, confusion, and sadness had struck him all together once he saw her face. The Dwarf explained to the Elf how he was almost finished, until he had run out of light and could no longer what he was doing. Amazed at the Dwarfs passion and speed, she broke free from her amazement and spoke an elvish word. A small light emerged from her palm and flew to the center of the room. The light was dim and was only just bright enough for the Dwarf to see his bench. Amazed at what just happened, the Dwarf let out a small laugh and went over to finish putting together the final arrow. The elf watched over him as he strung the last arrow together. Searching all-night to find a way to complete this last arrow, the Dwarf had finally found his light. The Dwarf raised the arrow in the air when he was done and the woman clapped in joy. The tip of the arrow had just hit the small-light, which led the light to travel around the room. As the light moved, a glow from the bows and arrow reflected of its light. The woman was in awe. As the light flew around came behind her, the dwarf was in awe. She had found her passion, and he found his light.
Learning more about the world around him, through books, or people he met at markets- Arculf’s passion for stories grew to attach onto the thing he’d only experience when being chased by his mother- reckless adventure. Arculf wanted to write his own stories. He could not be content with living in the same village his family grew up in, when he knew more was out there. He couldn’t just continue imagining fairytales and images of the places he read- he had to see it for himself. He remembered the stories his mother told him, the one of his great-great-grandparents, and though he had found his passion- he also wanted to find his light.
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Arculfs entire experience within LotC is to meet others, build relationships, and hopefully go on adventures- all while writing them down, to hopefully build them into a story. The reason why I chose Arculf to be a descendant of Elves and Dwarves, is so I could open his roleplaying experience. Being descendant from Dwarves, Arculf’s journey could potentially unfold to learning how to smith and make crafts for his band of friends or anyone he meets. And I chose him to be a descendant of Elves, so he could possibly learn magic. Though halflings, dwarves and humans aren’t capable of magic in LotC (Lord of the Rings, rather), they could possibly harness magic through weapons or physical objects. As I journey though LotC building relationships and writing stories of Arculf’s adventures in LotC, I think it’d be a cool story for a half-ling, a descendant of elves and dwarves, to learn how to make a object capable of wielding magic, then going out to learn magic- like his great-great grandparents. Of course, if role-playing experience would allow this, a half-ling could never be capable of having a large mana pool, or even be able to caste “great-magic”.
