Post by simesime13 on Jul 29, 2017 21:22:58 GMT -5
Baudric is the son of a leatherworker and baker. His love of baked goods knows no bounds, and his childhood memories, watching his little sister (Shearlin) and mother baking, are among his fondest. At the same time, the learning of the family business in leatherworking, well, let’s just say is not nearly as fond. His elder brother Cordovan, and father, didn’t provide as much knowledge of the business as they made him take care of the menial jobs of picking up scrap, scraping leather, and carrying firewood. This didn’t exactly leave a good taste in his mouth for continuing the family tradition of leatherworking, but Cordovan had already picked up that mantle.
Unsure why he had stayed for so many years, Baudric decided at 16 that he had finally had enough of being the younger brother, in Cordovan’s shadow, and was determined to find a life outside of town. Baudric made his way as a moderate scout/hunter and travelled for many years until settling down in the quiet town of New Haven.
Baudric used canines (or other animals from time to time) and his skills as a hunter and trapper to bring in decent game. He traded with others in the town, as all in the township did, and provided the lord of the area with game as requested. He didn’t spend much time making decisions, or listening to the town business, but he did make many friends. People found him ease to talk to, so he, well he knew things about people.
That’s how life was for Baudric till a short time ago. Baudric received news that his sister’s town was being plagued by some kind of animal that hunted the game, chickens and other animals of the area. She didn’t know much, but she figured her big brother could come and fix things for her. He chuckled as he read. Though nearing 50, wearing glasses and certainly well overweight since the last time she saw him, his little sister still thought her brother could fix anything.
Baudric asked a few townsfolk to watch his humble home, and he set off to help his “baby” sister with his trusty dogs. The road was long, but after a few weeks he saw the last rise in the East which led to the stream he would follow to the town center. There was an odd smell in the air, which Baudric could not make out, but which is companions surely did not like.
“What is it?” he asked them.
They looked at him quizzically as if to say they weren’t sure. The dog’s expression changed, imploring their master to check it out. ”Go find it…but, keep on the path to the river and follow me into the town.”
The dogs nodded as if they fully understood and agreed with the sound plan that was voiced just for them. Then they took off toward the river in a zig-zag pattern. He wondered if they were playing or actually looking for a scent.
Baudric crested the rise and looked down towards the river. He saw the dogs dodging and weaver, then suddenly stop. He started to jog down the hill. The dogs were moving slowly, stalking something, but he couldn’t see what it was. Then, as they cornered it into a tree, he saw it and nearly stopped running. A person was standing there, no more than 100 yards from him. He was sure the canines were wary of this person, though they were generally quite friendly to strangers. Baudric went to take a breath so he could shout hello, when he noticed the dogs circling like they were going to attack…he broke into a run and drew his swords. He dogs never attacked without provocation. Then he saw the person move, or rather jerk as if each joint were connected to a string like some kind of puppet. He hadn’t seen many, but he was pretty sure this was some kind of undead. Swords drawn, he reached the tree as the dogs were drawing the beast from it. He had taught them well.
It was ghastly and falling apart. Its side was torn asunder and rotten flesh hung from its ribs like a miniature pieces of curing meat, the jerky movements swinging the pieces of flesh to and fro. It lunged at the dogs, taking the canine bait. They deftly slipped away from its poorly controlled swing. Baudric landed two blows before the creature swung around. Its face was missing the jaw and had some kind of ooze spilling from the gaping hole of a mouth which took up too much of the beast’s face. It should have fallen…the blows were solid, yet it shambled towards Baudric intent on clawing and maiming him in some way. Baudric easily defended against the wild swings, as the dogs jumped into the beast toppling it to the ground. Baudric raised his sword and lopped off the creature’s head and with a final jerking motion, it came to rest.
Baudric collected his thoughts for a moment, then realized that where this is one undead, there may be many more. He trotted down and along the river towards town, the dogs being watchful sentinels and staying close to him. Their alert senses helped him feel safe, especially as he paused more times that he cared to, in order to catch his breath. There, the first building. The mill house, right on the river. He shouted as he got close, but there was no answer. In fact, there were no sounds from anywhere in the woods. He continued cautiously, keeping the dogs inline, lest they root out a larger group of undead that he couldn’t easily handle. A cursory exam of the Mill house confirmed it was empty, as if everyone at home had just left. But where would they have gone?
Baudric and his dogs passed several more homes, each as quiet as the first. No birds singing, nor squirrels playing…not a single sound. He approached the edge of the village now, seemingly all alone. Looking down at the dogs, he made a few noises and they knew just what to do. Like two horses taking off to joust one another, they each bolted around opposite ends of town to circle in and push whatever they found toward the center of town. Baudric moved stealthily through the mixture of trees and buildings. He peered into the buildings as he passed, but still didn’t see a single living soul. Table settings, cups with liquid and some over turned chairs here and there. Wherever the folk went, they left in a hurry leaving nearly everything behind. What could have caused such an emergency that these people fled their homes? Did they outrun it and when would they return? It had been so long since he was here, Baudric wasn’t sure which home was his sister’s….
A dog bark started Baudric out of his thinking and brought him back to the immediate situation, was there still danger here? He turned the corner into the town square and was so shocked he nearly tripped over the dogs who were barreling toward him at a full run. There were ten, fifteen, who knows how many undead, certainly more than he and his dogs could handle…he wasn’t going to make it….he was going to die here at the hand of these undead puppets. Then he saw one standing behind the rest, slightly taller, more muscular and definitely in control of its movements. Its head rocked back as if it were laughing, though it was too far for Baudric to hear anything. He looked down to his feet and realized that the dogs were yapping and grabbing at this hands and legs. One last glance at the “horde” confirmed that they were turning and heading his way. Baudric ran.
He bolted for the river, hoping the undead would be slowed by the steady flowing of the stream there. The dogs kept pace and urged him faster. Baudric dared to look behind and was frightened by what he saw, the shambling, jerky motion of undead in pursuit. He was ahead of the group, for now. Through the trees, across a few small fields and into the underbrush. His dogs kept pace, barking, encouraging him to speed up or take a different path. Baudric let his instincts take over and he listened to his four legged friend’s every nudge, growl and bark.
After what seemed like hours, but which Baudric knew was only a few minutes, he dared to take a rest among some thick bushes at the top of a small hill. Though he couldn’t see around the entire area, the view behind and down the hill told him he was keeping ahead of the group following him. Baudric only looked for a moment, so he couldn’t tell if the group had split up, or some were slower than others, but it definitely appeared to him that the throng of undead had thinned somewhat, but they were still chasing him and there were still far too many for him to fight. He would not have long to catch his old breath here. He looked forward to gather his bearings, It looked like there was a thinning of the brush and trees a few miles away, so he decided that would be the direction he would continue.
He started down the hill, and the dogs started barking and running. He turned just in time to see the wave of undead smashing into the dogs and him. How had he ignored this side of the hill and more importantly, how could he fend off this onslaught. These thoughts and more rattled in his head as he fell to the floor and rolled to his feet, one sword drawn. After deflecting a few blows he was able to pull his second sword and defend himself properly. He could hear the dogs working together, but couldn’t see them amongst the group of undead…this wouldn’t be a long fight, but he vowed to make every blow count. Using the few trees and the undead’s unsteady and jerking motions against them, Baudric managed to keep the undead from overwhelming him. However, he did hear the last few cries of his faithful companions as they fought bitterly to protect him and each other. Unable to shed a tear at their bravery, he kept to the task at hand…survival. Baudric was able to take down a few of the undead creatures, blocking and taking out legs or arms as they flailed at him, but he knew that these beasts never tire and eventually they would tear him down. Resolute to his plight, he turned to swing around what should have been a tree, but was in fact the larger undead leader. This one was in more control of its movements and seemed more aware of the entire battle at hand. This one was definitely in charge. Before the thought of hope could enter his mind, before realizing that if he took out this one, the others would fall, before realizing he might actually live to tell the tale of this battle…the larger beast swung and knocked Baudric back ten feet into a tree.
There he lay against the tree, head ringing, swords on the ground at his feet, lungs burning as the air was stolen from his chest with the force of the blow. He knew the end was near and wondered if these poor creatures ever had a thought of their own…if he would have his own thoughts if he was raised as a member of this small contingent of undead. Something moved to his left, breaking the melancholy revere. Baudric turned, expecting the last blow needed to end life as he knew it. But the blow never came….
Four or five days The Order had been looking for this group of undead. It had reportedly swallowed a whole village, though when the group arrived at the village, no one was there. It was as if the entire town had disappeared. This was quite odd and even some of the more experienced in the group had never heard any tales of a whole town disappearing. It was obvious that the undead were close. The stench in the air and the beheaded body outside near the river, told a story, but the captain couldn’t decipher it. Also strange were the dog prints. Did someone survive the undead and was out walking their pets? Then what happened….”Sir, over here!” the captain was brought back with a quickness as his men pointed out the obvious path of the undead.
“This is pretty fresh sir, and the dog tracks lead that same direction.”
“Looks like a villager is in trouble, and there’s undead to kill boys”, the captain shouted.
The men headed out at a decent pace, one of them at the front pausing every few minutes to be sure he stayed on the trail. The trail lead across the river and through several stands of trees. Suddenly the lead signaled a stop. The captain jogged ahead, and then he saw them. The undead group had moved to the right of a hill and were proceeding towards it quickly. The captain explained that they would race around the hill from the left and come at the undead from the blind side. As they left to make their way speedily, yet stealthy, towards the hill, they saw a lone figure stand from the brush on the hill and look back. Could they get to the man in time? Did he know help was coming? Did he know the undead were nearly upon his position?
As abruptly as he appeared, he was gone. Possibly hiding or worse, heading down into the brush. The men doubled their efforts now that they were on the opposite side of the hill and the undead couldn’t see them. They made a line for the hill and broke through the trees at top speed, weapons drawn. The men of The Order heard dogs growling, fighting, then with loud painful yelps, they heard their last breath. As they broke through the line of trees the captain saw the undead leader smash square into the chest of an unarmored man sending him 10 feet back and into a tree. The man fell like a sack of flour, spilling his weapons to the ground. The man looked defeated, as if he knew his fate would be delivered in a short moment. What the man did not realize is that The Order would not let him perish this day.
The men continued their charge as the captain charged in front of the fallen man. If undead had emotion, he would have sworn that surprise ran across this one’s decaying face as he blocked the beast’s death blow with his shield and swung heavily into the unsuspecting foe’s chest with his mace. The beast stumbled back and tried to organize its minions. Surely, there were many, but The Order’s caster was already on the hill top raining fire on this one or that. His men dispatching several and holding their own, the captain knew as soon as he dealt this this on, the rest would crumble and fall. The captain baited the undead creature in close, where his mace could be most effective. Thrice he swung and each time connected solidly, this third time nearly knocking the beast down. The captain stepped forward to deliver one final blow, and an arrow appeared from its left eye socket. The creature’s head cocked to one side and as it crumbled to the ground, so did the rest of the undead it had under its control. The captain looked to his left to see his archer, grinning from ear to ear. “Steal my kill will you” the captain said gruffly taking a step towards the archer. He only smiled after the archer stumbled on a root as he stepped back, easing the young fighter’s mind.
For Baudric, the rest of the fight unfolded both immeasurably fast, and yet in slow motion. Who were these men, come to save him? How would he ever repay them? Did they know what happened to the town? These thoughts and more raced through his head as he saw sword and bow, spell and shield drop undead, to protect him.
With the undead dispatched and everyone healed and rested, the introductions and explanations began. Baudric told of the strange request from his sister, and the men explained the mission of the Order of the Gryphon. They made their way back to the town, and searched each home and building until Baudric found his sister’s home. It was like all the others. The occupants left hastily and it remained undisturbed until now. There was no sign of his nieces, his sister, nor her husband. Baudric insisted that the men stay the night in his sister’s home. They cooked a good meal and spent the night talking about the Order, life, undead and the way of things. Eventually the talk came around to the Order’s membership. Baudric didn’t know if the captain mentioned it, or he inquired, but the captain spoke freely and explained the brotherhood the Order had brought him. The common cause to put undead back into the earth, as Baudric took it, united all of these men. Each of them had a story, and each told parts of the tale. They also spoke of the origin of the group, and a few of these men who were there. The bravery of the knight in that village square and of the villagers who survived the attack sent by Magla.
Baudric now had his own story, his own fight with the undead. It was clear to him that something unearthly had happened to his sister’s family and town. What better way to understand this enemy, new to Baudric, but familiar to these men, than to take up arms against it. Learn its weaknesses and how to fight it. In the process, maybe discover where his kin have been delivered. To be able to put them to rest from an unearthly sleep, should they be caught in between this world and the next. These would be things that now drove Baudric. This and his new loyalty to the Order of the Gryphon. It was that night that he took the Oath.
Baudric stayed with this group for several months training and learning about undead. Some things came easy, some, he found, wouldn’t stick in his old thick skull. No matter, the group were loyal to one another and adapted to each other’s understanding and fighting skills. Recently the captain asked Baudric to join up with The Order’s men in the North, near Cinderfall. He knew there were only a few men there, and it would do some good to bolster the ranks. Baudric agreed, never having been to the North…and a new chapter begins for him….
Unsure why he had stayed for so many years, Baudric decided at 16 that he had finally had enough of being the younger brother, in Cordovan’s shadow, and was determined to find a life outside of town. Baudric made his way as a moderate scout/hunter and travelled for many years until settling down in the quiet town of New Haven.
Baudric used canines (or other animals from time to time) and his skills as a hunter and trapper to bring in decent game. He traded with others in the town, as all in the township did, and provided the lord of the area with game as requested. He didn’t spend much time making decisions, or listening to the town business, but he did make many friends. People found him ease to talk to, so he, well he knew things about people.
That’s how life was for Baudric till a short time ago. Baudric received news that his sister’s town was being plagued by some kind of animal that hunted the game, chickens and other animals of the area. She didn’t know much, but she figured her big brother could come and fix things for her. He chuckled as he read. Though nearing 50, wearing glasses and certainly well overweight since the last time she saw him, his little sister still thought her brother could fix anything.
Baudric asked a few townsfolk to watch his humble home, and he set off to help his “baby” sister with his trusty dogs. The road was long, but after a few weeks he saw the last rise in the East which led to the stream he would follow to the town center. There was an odd smell in the air, which Baudric could not make out, but which is companions surely did not like.
“What is it?” he asked them.
They looked at him quizzically as if to say they weren’t sure. The dog’s expression changed, imploring their master to check it out. ”Go find it…but, keep on the path to the river and follow me into the town.”
The dogs nodded as if they fully understood and agreed with the sound plan that was voiced just for them. Then they took off toward the river in a zig-zag pattern. He wondered if they were playing or actually looking for a scent.
Baudric crested the rise and looked down towards the river. He saw the dogs dodging and weaver, then suddenly stop. He started to jog down the hill. The dogs were moving slowly, stalking something, but he couldn’t see what it was. Then, as they cornered it into a tree, he saw it and nearly stopped running. A person was standing there, no more than 100 yards from him. He was sure the canines were wary of this person, though they were generally quite friendly to strangers. Baudric went to take a breath so he could shout hello, when he noticed the dogs circling like they were going to attack…he broke into a run and drew his swords. He dogs never attacked without provocation. Then he saw the person move, or rather jerk as if each joint were connected to a string like some kind of puppet. He hadn’t seen many, but he was pretty sure this was some kind of undead. Swords drawn, he reached the tree as the dogs were drawing the beast from it. He had taught them well.
It was ghastly and falling apart. Its side was torn asunder and rotten flesh hung from its ribs like a miniature pieces of curing meat, the jerky movements swinging the pieces of flesh to and fro. It lunged at the dogs, taking the canine bait. They deftly slipped away from its poorly controlled swing. Baudric landed two blows before the creature swung around. Its face was missing the jaw and had some kind of ooze spilling from the gaping hole of a mouth which took up too much of the beast’s face. It should have fallen…the blows were solid, yet it shambled towards Baudric intent on clawing and maiming him in some way. Baudric easily defended against the wild swings, as the dogs jumped into the beast toppling it to the ground. Baudric raised his sword and lopped off the creature’s head and with a final jerking motion, it came to rest.
Baudric collected his thoughts for a moment, then realized that where this is one undead, there may be many more. He trotted down and along the river towards town, the dogs being watchful sentinels and staying close to him. Their alert senses helped him feel safe, especially as he paused more times that he cared to, in order to catch his breath. There, the first building. The mill house, right on the river. He shouted as he got close, but there was no answer. In fact, there were no sounds from anywhere in the woods. He continued cautiously, keeping the dogs inline, lest they root out a larger group of undead that he couldn’t easily handle. A cursory exam of the Mill house confirmed it was empty, as if everyone at home had just left. But where would they have gone?
Baudric and his dogs passed several more homes, each as quiet as the first. No birds singing, nor squirrels playing…not a single sound. He approached the edge of the village now, seemingly all alone. Looking down at the dogs, he made a few noises and they knew just what to do. Like two horses taking off to joust one another, they each bolted around opposite ends of town to circle in and push whatever they found toward the center of town. Baudric moved stealthily through the mixture of trees and buildings. He peered into the buildings as he passed, but still didn’t see a single living soul. Table settings, cups with liquid and some over turned chairs here and there. Wherever the folk went, they left in a hurry leaving nearly everything behind. What could have caused such an emergency that these people fled their homes? Did they outrun it and when would they return? It had been so long since he was here, Baudric wasn’t sure which home was his sister’s….
A dog bark started Baudric out of his thinking and brought him back to the immediate situation, was there still danger here? He turned the corner into the town square and was so shocked he nearly tripped over the dogs who were barreling toward him at a full run. There were ten, fifteen, who knows how many undead, certainly more than he and his dogs could handle…he wasn’t going to make it….he was going to die here at the hand of these undead puppets. Then he saw one standing behind the rest, slightly taller, more muscular and definitely in control of its movements. Its head rocked back as if it were laughing, though it was too far for Baudric to hear anything. He looked down to his feet and realized that the dogs were yapping and grabbing at this hands and legs. One last glance at the “horde” confirmed that they were turning and heading his way. Baudric ran.
He bolted for the river, hoping the undead would be slowed by the steady flowing of the stream there. The dogs kept pace and urged him faster. Baudric dared to look behind and was frightened by what he saw, the shambling, jerky motion of undead in pursuit. He was ahead of the group, for now. Through the trees, across a few small fields and into the underbrush. His dogs kept pace, barking, encouraging him to speed up or take a different path. Baudric let his instincts take over and he listened to his four legged friend’s every nudge, growl and bark.
After what seemed like hours, but which Baudric knew was only a few minutes, he dared to take a rest among some thick bushes at the top of a small hill. Though he couldn’t see around the entire area, the view behind and down the hill told him he was keeping ahead of the group following him. Baudric only looked for a moment, so he couldn’t tell if the group had split up, or some were slower than others, but it definitely appeared to him that the throng of undead had thinned somewhat, but they were still chasing him and there were still far too many for him to fight. He would not have long to catch his old breath here. He looked forward to gather his bearings, It looked like there was a thinning of the brush and trees a few miles away, so he decided that would be the direction he would continue.
He started down the hill, and the dogs started barking and running. He turned just in time to see the wave of undead smashing into the dogs and him. How had he ignored this side of the hill and more importantly, how could he fend off this onslaught. These thoughts and more rattled in his head as he fell to the floor and rolled to his feet, one sword drawn. After deflecting a few blows he was able to pull his second sword and defend himself properly. He could hear the dogs working together, but couldn’t see them amongst the group of undead…this wouldn’t be a long fight, but he vowed to make every blow count. Using the few trees and the undead’s unsteady and jerking motions against them, Baudric managed to keep the undead from overwhelming him. However, he did hear the last few cries of his faithful companions as they fought bitterly to protect him and each other. Unable to shed a tear at their bravery, he kept to the task at hand…survival. Baudric was able to take down a few of the undead creatures, blocking and taking out legs or arms as they flailed at him, but he knew that these beasts never tire and eventually they would tear him down. Resolute to his plight, he turned to swing around what should have been a tree, but was in fact the larger undead leader. This one was in more control of its movements and seemed more aware of the entire battle at hand. This one was definitely in charge. Before the thought of hope could enter his mind, before realizing that if he took out this one, the others would fall, before realizing he might actually live to tell the tale of this battle…the larger beast swung and knocked Baudric back ten feet into a tree.
There he lay against the tree, head ringing, swords on the ground at his feet, lungs burning as the air was stolen from his chest with the force of the blow. He knew the end was near and wondered if these poor creatures ever had a thought of their own…if he would have his own thoughts if he was raised as a member of this small contingent of undead. Something moved to his left, breaking the melancholy revere. Baudric turned, expecting the last blow needed to end life as he knew it. But the blow never came….
Four or five days The Order had been looking for this group of undead. It had reportedly swallowed a whole village, though when the group arrived at the village, no one was there. It was as if the entire town had disappeared. This was quite odd and even some of the more experienced in the group had never heard any tales of a whole town disappearing. It was obvious that the undead were close. The stench in the air and the beheaded body outside near the river, told a story, but the captain couldn’t decipher it. Also strange were the dog prints. Did someone survive the undead and was out walking their pets? Then what happened….”Sir, over here!” the captain was brought back with a quickness as his men pointed out the obvious path of the undead.
“This is pretty fresh sir, and the dog tracks lead that same direction.”
“Looks like a villager is in trouble, and there’s undead to kill boys”, the captain shouted.
The men headed out at a decent pace, one of them at the front pausing every few minutes to be sure he stayed on the trail. The trail lead across the river and through several stands of trees. Suddenly the lead signaled a stop. The captain jogged ahead, and then he saw them. The undead group had moved to the right of a hill and were proceeding towards it quickly. The captain explained that they would race around the hill from the left and come at the undead from the blind side. As they left to make their way speedily, yet stealthy, towards the hill, they saw a lone figure stand from the brush on the hill and look back. Could they get to the man in time? Did he know help was coming? Did he know the undead were nearly upon his position?
As abruptly as he appeared, he was gone. Possibly hiding or worse, heading down into the brush. The men doubled their efforts now that they were on the opposite side of the hill and the undead couldn’t see them. They made a line for the hill and broke through the trees at top speed, weapons drawn. The men of The Order heard dogs growling, fighting, then with loud painful yelps, they heard their last breath. As they broke through the line of trees the captain saw the undead leader smash square into the chest of an unarmored man sending him 10 feet back and into a tree. The man fell like a sack of flour, spilling his weapons to the ground. The man looked defeated, as if he knew his fate would be delivered in a short moment. What the man did not realize is that The Order would not let him perish this day.
The men continued their charge as the captain charged in front of the fallen man. If undead had emotion, he would have sworn that surprise ran across this one’s decaying face as he blocked the beast’s death blow with his shield and swung heavily into the unsuspecting foe’s chest with his mace. The beast stumbled back and tried to organize its minions. Surely, there were many, but The Order’s caster was already on the hill top raining fire on this one or that. His men dispatching several and holding their own, the captain knew as soon as he dealt this this on, the rest would crumble and fall. The captain baited the undead creature in close, where his mace could be most effective. Thrice he swung and each time connected solidly, this third time nearly knocking the beast down. The captain stepped forward to deliver one final blow, and an arrow appeared from its left eye socket. The creature’s head cocked to one side and as it crumbled to the ground, so did the rest of the undead it had under its control. The captain looked to his left to see his archer, grinning from ear to ear. “Steal my kill will you” the captain said gruffly taking a step towards the archer. He only smiled after the archer stumbled on a root as he stepped back, easing the young fighter’s mind.
For Baudric, the rest of the fight unfolded both immeasurably fast, and yet in slow motion. Who were these men, come to save him? How would he ever repay them? Did they know what happened to the town? These thoughts and more raced through his head as he saw sword and bow, spell and shield drop undead, to protect him.
With the undead dispatched and everyone healed and rested, the introductions and explanations began. Baudric told of the strange request from his sister, and the men explained the mission of the Order of the Gryphon. They made their way back to the town, and searched each home and building until Baudric found his sister’s home. It was like all the others. The occupants left hastily and it remained undisturbed until now. There was no sign of his nieces, his sister, nor her husband. Baudric insisted that the men stay the night in his sister’s home. They cooked a good meal and spent the night talking about the Order, life, undead and the way of things. Eventually the talk came around to the Order’s membership. Baudric didn’t know if the captain mentioned it, or he inquired, but the captain spoke freely and explained the brotherhood the Order had brought him. The common cause to put undead back into the earth, as Baudric took it, united all of these men. Each of them had a story, and each told parts of the tale. They also spoke of the origin of the group, and a few of these men who were there. The bravery of the knight in that village square and of the villagers who survived the attack sent by Magla.
Baudric now had his own story, his own fight with the undead. It was clear to him that something unearthly had happened to his sister’s family and town. What better way to understand this enemy, new to Baudric, but familiar to these men, than to take up arms against it. Learn its weaknesses and how to fight it. In the process, maybe discover where his kin have been delivered. To be able to put them to rest from an unearthly sleep, should they be caught in between this world and the next. These would be things that now drove Baudric. This and his new loyalty to the Order of the Gryphon. It was that night that he took the Oath.
Baudric stayed with this group for several months training and learning about undead. Some things came easy, some, he found, wouldn’t stick in his old thick skull. No matter, the group were loyal to one another and adapted to each other’s understanding and fighting skills. Recently the captain asked Baudric to join up with The Order’s men in the North, near Cinderfall. He knew there were only a few men there, and it would do some good to bolster the ranks. Baudric agreed, never having been to the North…and a new chapter begins for him….