FinalHavenLarp.com

Khorvalis had finished a long day of spending time with the orphans of Brennondale’s orphanage. He had just started putting away some foodstuffs that he had collected into the kitchen’s flimsy cupboards when he hears some sounds coming from the hallway behind him.

Curious, the old druid quickly finishes stowing the remaining potatoes and wheels of cheese from his satchel before making his way down the dark corridor.

As Khorvalis makes his way down the hall, his ears finally make sense of the noises; it's the laughter of children.

At the end of the passage, the druid makes out the flicker of a candle coming from beneath the closed door where the orphans slept. Slowly, the Hierophant openes the creaky door and to his surprise he was greeted by his young charges.

“Khorvalis!” exclaimes one of the orphans, “You’re still here!”

More and more of the children begin to peek from behind their covers and immediately run to the druid and embrace him. They pay no attention to the many burns and scars that cover the skin of the wizened Ga'vin druid.

“Children, children… Why are you still awake?” Khorvalis smiles at the young ones at his feet. “The sun has gone to sleep and so should you all.”

“Aww… it’s not that late.” One of the orphans pleads while tugging on Khorvalis’ robe.

Another child speaks up, “We can’t sleep Khorvalis, we’re afraid of the dark… and we don’t want to go to bed just yet.”

“Children, there is nothing for you to be afraid of,” Khorvalis says in a soothing, reassuring voice. “There are no monsters here. The Heroes of Haven are outside keeping us all safe. Now come on, all of you, it is time to go to bed. You all need your rest if you want to grow up big and strong.”

“But we are strong!” One of the smaller orphans proclaims as he stands atop his bed, flexing his skinny arms.

“Yes you all are strong, but nonetheless… you must go to bed.” laughs the druid. Khorvalis tries to entreat the children to return to their bunks but is quickly interrupted.

“Tell us a story, Khorvalis!” A little girl looks up at the druid. “That’ll help us go to bed. Tell us the story of the Firewalker!”

The druid answers: “But, my child, I’ve told you this story nearly a dozen times…”

Again Khorvalis is interrupted by the little girl. “Yes, but we love that story! Please, tell us about the Firewalker... and the beautiful Nymph. Please!”

One after another, the orphans join in a chorus beseeching Khorvalis to retell his tale of the Firewalker. "Please!"

“Fine, fine, fine, children. I will tell you the story.” The scarred old man sits himself in a rickety chair one on side of the room and then motions the children to get back in their beds. "But after I'm done, promise me you will all go to sleep. Are we agreed?"

"Yes!" the children reply. After tucking themselves back in their bunks, the orphans’ eyes are glued intently on the Hierophant.

Khorvalis lovingly looks at each and every one of his wards before beginning his story.

“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away…”

TO BE CONTINUED…

The druid begins his story:

“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away… there lived a young Ga’vin. He was the eldest of three sons born to the chieftain of his village. His mother had died giving birth to the youngest sibling. His father was a stern man and a fierce warrior, as was expected.”

Khorvalis scans the room of the orphanage and is pleased to see all the children enthralled as he recounts his tale.

“Now, the young Ga’vin was groomed by his father and grew up to be a strong warrior. When he came of age, the Ga’vin underwent the trial by fire that was customary for his people. Emerging from the fire with tremendous burns and ritual scars, the Ga’vin was now a man… a proud…” the druid is interrupted.

“Firewalker!” The orphans finish Khorvalis’ sentence.

“Yes, young ones… he is the Firewalker of which my story revolves.”

The skinny boy flexes the muscles of his skinny arms again and says, “Firewalkers are strong and fearless, just like me!”

The other orphans giggle.

“You are correct, the young Firewalker was indeed strong and a formidable warrior, just like his chieftain father wanted him to be. The Firewalker would one day be chieftain and needed to be strong and powerful. Or so he thought.”

“But what about his two brothers,” a little girl asks. “What became of them?”

“Ah, well… the second son was not much of a warrior which disappointed their father. Instead, he buried his nose in ancient tomes and magical manuals of his people. He grew up to become a wise and powerful wizard.” Khorvalis answered.

The little girl continued, “And what about the youngest son? Did he become a wizard too?”

“No my dear.” Khorvalis pauses for a moment. “He tried to become a Firewalker like his oldest brother and father, but he did not pass the test of fire.”

“Oh no! Did he die?” another orphan shouts from behind his blanket.

“Alas, the youngest brother did perish in the flames.” Khorvalis again pauses.

The orphans gasp and sigh in surprise.

The druid continues, “But so was the way of the Firewalker’s people. Survival of the fittest. The eldest brother lamented the loss of the youngest but life eventually went on in the Ga’vin village.”

Khorvalis reaches into his leather satchel and pulls something out of it but keeps it concealed in his hand. He clutches it tightly as he continues with his tale.

“Now, for many years, the Firewalker joined his father and the other warriors of his tribe in defending their lands. Together, they conquered many foes who sought to wage war against the Ga’vin. Their people did not take lightly to those races who were different from them. Nonetheless, the Firewalker was a fierce combatant and had many battle scars to prove it.”

“Just like yours, Khorvalis?” the little girl interjects.

“Well… um, yes. Just like mine.” The Hierophant continues, “The Firewalker did all these things to make his father and people proud, but deep down inside he felt empty and unfulfilled. The Firewalker saw himself like a machination and began to grow weary of all the death and battles.”

“But why? He was strong and brave,” said the skinny boy. “That’s what Firewalkers do. Cut down any enemies that get in their way.”

“Just because one can wield a sword and take one’s life, doesn’t make you strong, child.” Khorvalis’ eyes meet the boy’s. “And a life of killing is not a happy one. There are many kinds of strength. Don’t you forget this, children.”

The skinny boy nods at the druid, understandingly. The rest of the orphans follow suit.

“The Firewalker did not share his feeling of emptiness with any of the other Ga’vin. Fearful that his chieftain father might consider him weak, the Firewalker kept his emotions to himself… until one fateful summer.”

The little girl rises from her bed in excitement. “The summer where he meets the beautiful Nymph!”

Khorvalis smiles and acknowledges her exuberance. “Yes, when our Firewalker meets the woman of the forest that would forever change his life.”

TO BE CONTINUED….