Mysteries of the Moonsea
Vargarion Helric was born into an ordinary family and should have spent his golden years farming. Fate has an interesting way of turn the mundane right on its very head and the smallest of ripples in life can cause dramatic changes. The life of a bored farmer was what would have been had it not been for tragedy.
At a tender age of 6, The Helric farm was beset by marauders. There was nothing of real value to be taken. Thieves had no interest in live stock. This act of brutality was for no other reason to break the boredom of the day. Vargarion had been fetching empty pales from the barn when it occurred. As the screams began, all he could do was burry himself deep within a bale of hay trying to make as little noise as possible.
All time was lost. He had no idea whether its was seconds or hours. Eventually he heard more yelling, but this time it was different. Someone was fighting. He crept to the barn door as quickly as his trembling legs would carry him and was soon lost in the spectacle before him. A dozen dwarves engaged in deadly combat with all sort of monsters. Young Vargarion watched with awe has the dwarves smashed and cleaved everything in their wake. Confronted with a real challenge, the marauders were quickly overwhelmed and put to the axe.
It was then an elderly dwarf with salt and pepper hair noticed the small boy watching them. Despite the objections of the others, Gidren could not in good conscience leave the boy alone for the bandits had slayed his whole family. Despite his intentions to leave Vargarion at the next town, he didn’t. For reasons unknown to him at the time he had taken a liking to the small boy.
Gidren Armarak was a follower of Clangeddin the god of battle, war, and bravery. He never had a stomach for treachery or deceit. Never haviong children of his own, Before he reached Dagger Falls, he had decided to offer Vargarion the chance to stay with him. “Don’t make this decision lightly lad” he had said. “Stay with me and i’ll work ye to the bone don’t ye doubt. But a fine strong man will ye grow to be.” Vargarion had no idea how true that statement would prove to be.
Taken in as a student of Clageddin, He spent the next several years learning from the dwarves. Gidren ran a profitable business running various ore from his home of Tethyamar to the woods of Myth Drannor. During that time Vargarion would help in any way he could. Early on, his tasks during the day would vary from caravan lookout to hauling goods to and from the wagons. Nights were filled with his nose in the books. When not traveling, his days were spent over an anvil. As the years passed, and he began to grow, work in the forge trimmed the fat and replaced it with hard muscle. Even then, his nights were still filled with the teachings of Clangeddin. From the perspective of the long lived dwarves, Vargarian grew into manhood over night. It wasn’t long before he was guarding the wagons instead of simply loading or unloading their goods. Never acquiring the taste for dwarven cuisine, Vargarian developed a knack for cooking while on the road. Even the other dwarves begrudgingly agreed he had talent.
Throughout the years of travel, He always enjoyed his journeys to the city of the elves. It reminded him that there was more to the world than his mine in the desert. He always looked forward to the time he would spend at Myth Drannor. It was there that he met a curious group of friends. Upon each return visit they grew closer and soon began to plan their reunions around Gidren’s merchant convoys. He finally felt that he had met people who could understand him. Others, that despite being surrounded by family, knew what it felt like to be alone.
One summer Gidren approached him and explained that this would be his last trip to Myth Drannor. Confused and alarmed by this, The old dwarf explained that his old bones were simply too weary for the hardships of the road. He planed on selling his share of the business to his associates in hopes to make enough coin to retire. He had hoped to last another several years to horde enough coin to live well, but this would have to do. It was the first time Vargarion realized how old Gidren really was. The dwarf intended to spend his silver years training acolytes and working his forge. Vargarian was unsure where he fit into everything. The caravan was all that he knew. It was who he was.
The evening before they were set to return to Tethyamer, Vargarion shared a meal with his good friends. It was then that Draelyn, Kumari and Daegwyn convinced him to travel with them. Draelyn explained that they were intending to sail to Melvant to make a name for themselves. They would take care of each other and make a name for themselves like real adventurers. Inspired, Vargarian realized he might be able to make enough coin to send back to Gidren to ensure he could retire in the fashion he deserved. It was the least he could do for all he was given.