Character History: Tilk's Story

My life has always been adventurous, well as far as hunting goes. Or maybe I only felt that way for reasons that when I was 9 my father sent me into the brush with a small skinning knife telling me to draw the pigs out and when they chased me, he would shoot them with his huge bow and arrow. The Elders always thought my father to be a little harsh but he claimed it would make me a stronger warrior. Oh, but I am rambling.

They call me Tilk. I grew up in Boskenland, and it seems not long ago I remember being there. The beautiful evergreens with snow topped mountains; it looked like fine white icing topped on beautiful wedding bread. The deep forests and so much room to run it seemed like an endless Paradise.

I was sitting under our sacred giant redwood eating boar and drinking ale with my grandfather, laughing about the times we tripped or fell or even threw a spear the wrong way. When suddenly I heard my father cry out for help. I'm looking around frantically, trying to pinpoint any reason why my father of all people would need help. He ran up to my grandfather, out of breath he said, "Gather the warriors together for a meeting quickly!" Seeing them run off in such a hurry and I in shock and wondering what to do, I distanced myself, running behind my father without murmuring a single word. Bearing with curious eyes as I tried to keep up with my fathers fast pace.

About a half-hour passed and the men of our tribe grouped in a circle around the center of town. My father in a stressed out state and out of breath tells everyone one of how my mother and him were out hunting for fur and leather ran into a group of Hill Giants that came in, and before he could act snatched up my mother, and with there giant strides ran off to the east from there hunting ground to fast for him to even catch up. At this point I don't know if I should be more angry, scared or worried for my mother's safety.

A scouting party quickly gathered amongst the tribe. About fifteen of our biggest warriors, including my father, wielding huge axes and swords they began marching out of the camp heading due northeast to my families' popular hunting grounds. Nervous and wanting to be with my father I waited.

Three hours passed, and dawn was setting in. As tears rolled from my eyes worried in hopes that my parents made it back, yet in my gut I knew something was wrong. From a distance I could see figures heading towards the tribal camp. Behind them dragged something, and as they came closer I only counted seven heads. Bodies! No! I ran up to the first person I saw. It was my fathers' long friend Kelar and he looked at me with grief and despair. I cried, "Where is my father? And my mother?" In a hesitated response he said in a low soft voice, "IM sorry Tilk, we were over run, and in a violent rage your father ran into the crowd of giants alone, like a desperate wounded animal, trying to get to your mother." And in a higher pitched but fake voice like he was trying to encourage me not to be sad he said, "There is nothing we could do. Lift your head up and go talk to your grandfather we shall honor there sacrifices around fire tonight." Bending down on my knees I cried out to Wohoon begging him for my parents, threatening that I will get revenge on the giants, I will . . .

Seventeen years have passed and during these years my grandfather loved, raised, and trained me to be the warrior I am today. Hopping I shall met my parents again, hoping that Wohoon will give me the strength my father didn't have, to save the ones I love and to get revenge on the savage beasts that took them when I was still so young.

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