Welcome to the Vale

We were all forged by tragedy. Every single one of us. A dark past and countless hardships moulded us into who we were. Perhaps that was why we all worked so well together. We understood each other’s pain, no matter how different we were. We were friends. And without friends by your side, the Minerath Vale was one dangerous place. Especially for a man like me.
 
Beemic grunted as he turned his head, scouting ahead for any possible threat lurking deep within the wilderness. It was clear that the scent of bugbear still lingered on the breeze, as the smell brought about a snarl, revealing the half-orc’s yellowing tusks. There was a reason behind the man’s nickname: the Bane of Bugbears. What was once a kind and gentle man had become a cautionary tale: the boogeyman in the eyes of a whole culture. I was amazed by his resolve, but also troubled by the way his rage clouded his moral code. He turned to the others, breaking the silence with a gruff remark.
 
“We should set up camp here. Where we have the high ground.”
 
No matter how strong his bloodlust was, you had to commend his strategy. Not the brightest, but he knew to defeat his enemy, he must think like his enemy.
“What did he say?” came another raspy voice, this time in a new dialect. Myastan Dovarax. His plate armour shone in the setting sun as Veynn began his flight back down to the grass below, their green scales blending with the surrounding environment. Dovarax was a soldier, and a good one, mind you. He has saved my skin on more than one occasion, and I do my best to return the favour when the situation arises. I roughly translated in the Draconic tongue for him, which was followed by a nod of agreement. I’m good with things like that.
 
From the grass below us, water trickled upward and took the form of a humanoid figure. They stepped forward, crouching down only to pick up their weapon, before turning to the rest of the party.
 
“I think we should keep moving. We don’t know what’s out here.”
 
Reka, the physical embodiment of a nearby river. Apparently, there are a lot of people like that. Spirits, rather. However, Reka was definitely one of the most well-known and most praised of the lot. Most of us saw Reka as assertive and confident. I thought the constant worship received from the elven villages gave the monk quite the God complex. Or maybe it was the way they lashed out at me after seeing what I could do that put me on edge. Regardless, Reka was a good leader who knew the lay of the land and could keep us in check. And they were powerful indeed.
 
“Well, we are all exhausted and some of us are injured,” came a soft familiar voice, “I think a rest is in order.”
 
I turned my head to see Eos, newly returned from freeing some elven captives in a nearby camp. Her blonde hair was brushed behind her pointed ears, and a colourful arrangement of flowers decorated her forehead. Slung over her shoulder was her mandolin, a channel for her bardic power. Of all of the group, I had been acquainted with Eos for the longest, having met a year prior in a strange land, one that needs a story of its own sometime. We have seen each other through the toughest of times, and the darkest moments seemed less terrible with her support. She had a smile that could bring light to the saddest of people. That’s what I loved about her: her kindness.
 
Reka turned to the other elf of the group, who nodded in confirmation. Gaia Chaevyre, an elf who had surprisingly been quite out of touch with the elf community for almost a century. Tattoos ran up her slender arms, and her longbow was slung around her shoulder, though her druidic capabilities were usually her first instinct when swords were crossed. She didn’t talk much. After everything she had been through, who could blame her? But even so, her wisdom proved her worth and she is well respected among the elves and loved among the party. Reka nodded in response.
 
“Alright. We’ll be camping here for the night.”
 
A rustling of leaves behind me alerted me to the presence of Kravol Wolvencar. Although a new arrival to the Vale, alongside the likes of Dovarax and myself, the kobold was possibly one of the most brilliant tactical minds I had ever had the pleasure of meeting. And even more impressive was his stealth; you never noticed Kravol was behind you until the dagger was already pressed against your throat. He has mentioned brief moments of his past, the prejudice he had received during his lonely upbringing, and his previously attempted rebellions, all in vain up to this point. But I think this time, he might just end up victorious after all. Maybe then he’ll have the life he always wanted. The life he didn’t get to have as a child. He raised his head towards the airship lingering in the sky, casting a shadow on the vale.
 
“They’re still up there,” he rasped, “and there’ll be more coming. We need a plan.” Beemic nodded, his sharpened teeth poking out from his lower lip.
 
“Bugbears are savage brutes. These folks are much worse.”
 
“Couldn’t agree more,” Reka replied.
 
Dovarax stared at the ground. He knew he wasn’t responsible for all of the pain, all of the hatred, but he couldn’t help but feel in the wrong. I understand that feeling. As if the whole world’s against you. Eos turned to me.
 
“What do you think, Joseph?”
 
I was surprised I had a say in the matter. I was quite the odd character to this bizarre world, with my dusty trenchcoat, scruffy hair, and rounded ears. I was human, the only human, in a world full of elves, orcs and dragons. And yet they still looked at me with respect, with kindness. The burning energy of the Feywild in my chest died down, and for the first time in a long time, I felt at home. At home, when I couldn’t be further from “home” if I tried. I lifted my head.
 
“We shouldn’t worry about them. Not at the moment, at least”
 
The others all shared a look of confusion. I stammered as I tried to find the right words.
 
“If we really want to stop these people, then we need to be at our full potential. There isn’t a chance of surviving if we are suffering exhaustion.”
 
“It’s settled then,” Reka says, almost cutting me off, “I’ll be by the shoreline if anyone needs me.”
 
As Reka walked, almost glided, across the grass towards her main body and the rest of us unpacked our rations and unravelled our bedrolls, I looked around me, at this strange new world I threw myself into. I remember my father, a geeky archaeologist always excited to show his latest discovery. I remember my mother, the one who raised me after the shipwreck, and made sure I wasn’t alone. I remember my brother, the arrogant bastard who ran when Dad left and got me caught up in this mess, and yet still earned my love. And I look at my new family. A ragtag group of lost souls doing their best to help people. And I thought to myself:
 
This is where I belong.
 
We were all forged by tragedy. Every single one of us. But that’s not why we are who we are. Because what shapes us more than tragedy is how we overcome it. Learn from it. Grow from it. The Minerath Vale is a dangerous place, but we’re working to make it a little safer. And the day when the dragonkin armies descend from on high and begin their siege, we’ll be there.