Thursday, August 16, 2012
It’s only about three feet deep, so how can it hold everything? Canna stared at her backpack curiously as everything she would possess in the next stage of her life was so carefully arranged inside. There were few spare sets of clothes, several sunrods to help pierce the undoubtedly hideous, dark lairs of the Drow, a month’s worth of banausic trail rations, a length of rope coiled tightly, a filled waterskin, and an inconspicuous black coin purse filled with a meager salary of gold pieces tucked tightly into the corner. She was preparing to combat the strongest army the world has ever known, and yet there was still room left in her backpack? She sneered as she thought how easy it was to obtain this equipment; proving the only thing stopping someone from taking up the fight was cowardice or complacency in the face of oppression. With a sigh she sealed her pack and tied her bedroll to the top before looking over to the enormous axe which rested on her bed. She bent over and slid her hands underneath the weapon’s handle just to feel the weight of cold steel in her hands. Instinctively her fingers tightened into a grip and her muscles tensed in preparation of an attack. There was nothing to fight inside of the humble Corbett home, but it didn’t keep Canna from swinging her devastating weapon about. Each movement stretched a muscle aching to engage, and the weapon now felt like a comfortable extension of herself as she arched it down with a restrained grunt. The blade hovered just inches above the ground when a sarcastic tone interrupted Canna’s trance.
“You’re expecting to do a lot of fighting during your pilgrimage?” Jude Corbett stood at the doorway of her daughter’s room, and her glower was enough to set another miserable tone to this exchange between mother and child.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Canna sat quietly in her room immersed in a deep meditation. She rested on her heels; her eyes sealed as she focused on maintaining a steady breathing pattern while going over her tenets once again. Years had passed since the violent vixen first learned of her destiny with the Unfettered Queen, and the angry teen was now an adult preparing for the greatest challenge in her life. In a week’s time she would be heading north to meet with Bryth Wyrmslayer about a scouting mission over the wall, although the lie she told her family was that in a week’s time she would be embarking on a pilgrimage to visit various shrines to Avandra all across the world. In the eyes of the inconsiderate avenger, she felt everyone bought the story. Now she would enjoy her last week at home mentally preparing for this daunting task while trying to spend a few precious moments with her family as she knew they could very well be her last.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Several weeks had passed since Canna first learned of her divine patron, and the violent vixen had exhausted her miniscule resources pulling together any material on Avandra she could. The Unfettered Queen was not one of the more pronounced deities however, and her order’s nature to refrain from a uniform Church made it nearly impossible for her to find detailed recordings of Avandra’s tenants. She found several old texts that explained what any novice student of religion would know of Avandra, but the wisdom behind it was decisively missing. Canna had taken to a more peculiar method of investigation; she started asking around for a follower.