Janora Battlesteel is a young dwarf of about half a century in age. A tough barbarian, she’d provide any party with a powerful ally. She is on a quest to find a cure for her people and vengeance against those that may have caused their illness. Few clues are available to start her quest. She has journeyed from home for answers.
The salt from the sea caked her lips and her throat was sorely parched for fresh water, but the rise and drop of the bow against the tides invigorated Janora. The excitement of her first fishing trip on the open sea forced a grin on the young, Dwarven woman’s face.
“It’s a fine kayak, Battlesteel,” Thoril Ogrescrush offered from a few feet port. Janora knew that in his own fashion, that was about the highest compliment she could get from the chieftain’s son. The small tribe of barbarians didn’t survive this harsh, cold environment without being tough physically and emotionally.
“It seems to be holding up well. It survived the squall,” she nodded in agreement. The small watercraft was her first, crafted from a loan tree truck with nothing but simple stone tools and hard labor. It marked her passage from an unskilled child to a full member of the tribe. “The trade went well. It is a fine” the statement hung in the air unfinished as the fleet rounded the sharp stone peninsula that marked the edge of the bay.
The fishing village was quiet, too quiet. There were no cooking fires burning outside. No children played on the beaches, searching for driftwood or shells. Not a soul came to greet the weary travelers as they silently landed their craft. “What could be wrong?” Janora asked but got no reply from the staunch caravan as they cautiously approached the large, wooden common hut in the village’s center.
With inquiring eyes staring at her, the local shaman answered the unasked question as the group entered the sturdy structure. “There is a sickness, “ she said as she gestured around the room. Only a few tribesmen were mobile, helping and caring for the rest. The hut had become an impromptu hospital, the sick and the dying were scattered everywhere, lying on blankets and furs. “A foul wind blew strong for 3 days, carrying an evil magic. I was powerless to stop it.” the healer explained.