The Father of McGregor



This is the background to McGregor 's past, an a look into his family history.
 * Next Goblin's Den

A Veangence Born
The wind scratches at his scruff, forcing this dwarf to smirk as he reaches his hand up to his neck. Arawn walks around, allowing his gaze to wander. His mind leads back towards his newly born son, his smirk spreads to a smile. His gait is slow, full of decision, and of content. The grass flows around him, as though attempting to grasp his level of serenity.

As the sun sets, Arawn decides to walk home to his son and wife. Something smells awry as he walks into his kitchen, a stench of fear hits his nose so hard, that it threatens his ability to not vomit. Continuing to walk through the small underground house, he checks the rooms. Finally making it to the last, the smell of fresh blood rises in tides towards him. His pace stays the same with his feet, but not with his mind. It rushes, wondering of his wife, of what has happened to her or his child.

Entering his room, a disastrous sight taints his presence and forever future. His wife lays, under a roughly made shrine that had not been there when he had left. Even with years in the military, he had never seen anything to compare to this sight before. Heart falling below his feet, it crashes, and he loses his ability to stand. Collapsing onto the bed, he hears a small shriek.

His son made it. He was not part of this voodoo, thankfully someone was left other than him. I should have been here to protect my family. I should not have been lalligagging about. It is my duty to protect those I love. His heart beats faster, as he picks his son up in his rough hands. The dwarf releases a tear down his faces, it catches in his scruff. Arawn leans forward protectively as he hears the clatter of the townspeople above his home.

Arawn looks back at his wife, and makes a decision. Placing his son in his homemade wooden crib, he picks his wife up, and brings her outside their home. Walking through the town, and ignoring the looks of shock, he brings his wife to the alter in the middle of his township. Kneeling, he places her gently at the base, and starts a prayer. As he whispers, tears continue slowly down his cheeks, making his short beard sparkle. With the last sentence of his dwarven prayer, his wife is lifted by the wind, and is wrapped in leaves, as a blessing. She flows through the alter, being taken to the other side of this world.

After sitting for awhile at the alter, forcing the same realization through his head, over and over again, that his wife is dead, the dwarf stands slowly, grasping his hard leather armour that is his outer layer with his large, thick hands. His scraggly hair whitens visibly as he walks home. Wrinkles layer his face, taking what was his youthful face, and replacing it with the age he truly was, now that happiness has been peeled from his heart, and left him hollow.

Entering his late home, he goes back to his bedroom. Looking at the shrine, he realizes this was an act of witchcraft. The need for vengeance wracks his body, filling it with hatred and guilt that can only be replaced by revenge. Sigils litter the shrine in what Arawn assumes is his wife’s blood.

Another cry comes from the cradle. Leaning over, Arawn scoops up his child, and walks out of this room. Picking up his sack of emergency items, he leaves his home for the last time. Looking back, he sees flames flicker in his cave, and smiles inwardly at his choice that kept at least his son alive.

Looking up at the sky, the dwarf reads the stars, and knows that more trouble is ahead. Wanting his son to be safe, he walks to a trusted friend, knowing a short trek to her is worth it.

After hours underneath the stars, foraging through dirt, the dwarf finally finds the door that leads underground, a few miles from his own cave. Lifting the wood, he jumps inside with his little dwarf in tow. Shuffling through the hallway, he makes it to the only room underneath this ceiling.

“Bedwyr, I need you. This is an emergency. I have a task for you, of which has to be fulfilled.” A whisp of a woman appears from the smooth wall. Her features show her question, allowing Arawn to continue. “My wife has been murdered, I need to find the witch or warlock that has done it, there were sigils, and I am sure there was a signature one as well. But while I do this, I ask of you to take care of my only son. And to do so with your life. I will be indebted to you.” The nymph nods, and holds out her branches to hold the child. “Thank you so much for taking care of my McGregor. After I avenge his mother, I shall be back. Don’t let him know about me, I fear he may try to follow when he gets older.”

With that, the dwarf walks back through the dirt hallway, and leaves, for his own mission. Knowing his son will be alone for a very long time, but also knowing it is the right thing to do.