Name: Emry Lynn
Class: Rogue
Race: Wood-elf
Height: 5'2
Weight: 93
Eyes: Green/Brown
Hair: Red/Brown

Emry Lynn's Story

It was a sunny fall morning just outside of Trinsic. The land of Brittania was quiet as always in that area. No monsters spwaned near there; however recently a panther had been killing all the chickens on the locals farms. Galvin and Kyna Lynn's farm had just lost all their chickens that night.

Galvin took his daughter by the arm and hobbled down the lane towards the town. "Emry." He said in a strong voice. "You must go and find this panther and kill it. We can not afford to this loss. That panther hide will give us enough to buy some chickens to replace those we just lost. Go now, and take my bow with you."

"Father, you are far better at tracking than I am."

"Yes, but your skills will serve you well enough. Just go quickly, and return safely."

Emry Lynn hugged her father and waved back towards the house where she knew her mother was watching. "Alright. I will go."

It was nearing midday, and Emry was still on the panther's track though it was at least an hour old. "This is taking to long. That wicked cat will be long gone from here. I better head back."

Just then she saw a movement from the corner of her eye. She spun to her right and came face to face with a grizzly bear.

"Oh no!" she gasped as she turned and ran, loading her father's bow as he had taught her many years ago. Emry could feel the bear beathing down her neck as she dogded around a large tree. She turned and fired, hitting the grizzly in the leg. Quickly she reloaded and fired again. This time her aim was true and the bear fell back with a mighty thump.

Emry breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled out her knife to skin the beast.

A few hours later, Emry Lynn started back towards home. "I may not have found that panther, but Father should be happy. This skin will sell for more than a panther's and now we have food for weeks!"

As she got closer to her home she sensed that something was wrong. "I should hear father chopping wood by now." Emry quickened her pace. The woods were in dead silence. Emry dropped her load and ran to her house. She threw open the front door and froze in horror. The kitchen was in utter chaos and there in the center was the body of her mother slit in two. When Emry recovered, she searched for her father. She found him lying at the base of a tree with his axe still implanted in his skull. Emry dragged his body back to the house and placed it next to her mother. She look around and found everything gone. The killers had even stollen Kyna's sewing kit.

With a sad heart, Emry Lynn took a torch and set her childhood home a-blaze. She wrapped the bear skin around herself and headed north.

As she travelled north, Emry Lynn heard stories of a guild which fought for Honor and Justice, Scarab. She learned that this guild was lead by two very kind and noble people, Lord and Lady Hawke, but it was the name of one of their followers which gave Emry hope, Ozwyn. Emry remembered her father telling her stories of a travelling cleric, Ozwyn, who had helped her family fight off bandits when Galvin and Kyna had first moved into Brittania.

Emry meet Ozwyn of Scarab and joined the guild. Soon after, she travelled with Scarab to the land of Norrath where Emry built a house in the trees of Greater Faydark. She now studies the arts of the rogue and uses her skills and familiarity with the woods to help those lost in the forests surrounding Greater Faydark.

Name: Emry Lynn
Race: Barbarian
Class: Shaman
Sex: Female
Height: 6'5"
Weight: Unknown
Eyes: Frost Green
Hair: Midnight Snow
Distinguishing Marks: Mammoth tattoo on upper right arm

Emry Lynn's Story

Leaning my chair back to the wall, I order a tall mug of Elven Ale. A little Dwarf lass enters the Inn and the warm breeze she lets in brushes my arm. I look down at the bruise there, which is still sore from the fight I was in this morning. It is swollen and purple to the point that I can barely make out the year-old tattoo of a Mammoth.

The lad rushes back with my ale and I notice that for one so small he is not all that unpleasant to look at. Smiling, I lean forward and take a long pull from the mug. Suddenly, the events of the past year wash over me.

It was nearing the time of the Great Mammoth Hunt, and I was grudgingly looking forward to this year's events. This year's Great Hunt was special. It marked the coming of my tenth summer. Soon I would have to choose my path in life. My parents had starting training me in the arts of war when I was only two summers old. When I would come home with tales of the success of the small bands I lead, their faces would glow and they would tell me that I would grow up to be a fine warrior. They were delighted by my growing enthusiasm for the Great Mammoth Hunts. I looked forward to the Hunts each year because I could spend more time with my grandmother, and I could see the Mammoths up close. But I enjoyed being with Grandmother most of all. Grandmother was a powerful shaman. She went on all the Great Mammoth Hunts and would heal those who were injured during the long battles. At night before I would go to bed, she would tell me long stories of past Mammoth Hunts. Some of the stories got to be very gruesome. I loved to hear the tales of when she and Grandfather would take Father out on hunting trips when he was my age. It was funny to think of my father as being a young lad stumbling behind Grandfather.

I order another ale, and as the lad leaves, I allow the memories to sweep me away again.

Grandmother had died just after the third Great Mammoth Hunt of my ninth summer. Since the age of six summers, Grandmother had been the only one who understood my love of the Mammoths. That day when I was six, I had been out on the edge of the plains leading a small hunting band. We were tracking Ice Goblin Whelps when a herd of Mammoths walked passed us. The others ran, but I stayed and saw how tenderly the mother Mammoth led her calves safely away from me. I ran back and told Grandmother about the Mammoths and she laughed and smiled down at me. After that, Grandmother called me over to her home often and would tell Mother that I was running errands for her so that I could watch the mother Mammoths tend their calves at dusk. Mother never seemed to mind as long as I came back with a few pelts for her to sew with. During those trips, I would sit on the hillside looking out over the plains and watch the Mammoths stroll by. Then, at night, I would run back and tell Grandmother all about what I had seen. In later years, when I had grown enough to fight Snow Wolves and Orc Mountaineers, I braved the plains and would run with the Mammoth Calves. I was always cautious during these times, telling the guards in the passes that I was out gathering supplies for Grandmother. And many times I really was gathering the rare grasses that grow out on the plains or collecting pelts from wolves or melting the lard from a Snow Leopard. When I would return with these supplies, Grandmother would tell me about them and their powers.

But that time had passed, and Grandmother was gone.

Now, the Great Mammoth Hunt was nearing again and I found myself not looking forward to it with a kind of dread. Before Grandmother fell ill and died, I was bouncing with anticipation for soon I would choose my path in life. Now I was not sure. I felt as though I had no hope left. The only joy I found was with the Mammoths. For many long weeks I had dreaded the coming of the Mammoth Hunt. Then I discovered that some part of me was looking forward to the event. I had never been in battle with one before and this year I would be allowed to participate. Suddenly, I was eager to fight one-to become one with the Mammoths in battle. And I had laughed as I remembered the stories that Grandmother had told me about past Hunts.

A sly smile pulls at the corners of my mouth.

That was the day my life changed. I raced home and told my parents that I was not going to be a warrior. They were very upset. They couldn't understand why I would ever want to give up the life of a warrior. I told them that I wanted to be a shaman. They asked me if I had received a sign welcoming me to the shaman path. I looked down at my feet and told them that I had not. They laughed and called me a foolish child for thinking that I would ever be a shaman. I ran from them and hid out on the plains. I lived there alone and every day I watched over the Mammoths. Then one night I had a strange dream and awoke with a soreness in my left arm. When the morning came I was amazed to find a tattoo of a Mammoth right where the soreness originated. I was stunned by this, but then decided that it was a sign to return to Halas and participate in the Great Mammoth Hunt.

When I arrived the next day, I received a cold welcome. My parents didn't talk to me, and only a few of my friends even appeared to be happy to see me. Never the less I was allowed to attend the Hunt.

On the second night of the Hunt, a Mammoth Calf wondered into the camp. Everyone else was asleep, but I could not sleep so I sat on a hillside and watched over the plains. Then I looked back down on the camp and saw the Mammoth Calf. I stared at it in disbelief for I had never seen this Calf. Slowly, I stood up and walked carefully down the hillside. I walked up to the Calf. He stared down at me and was not afraid. I walked around him and saw a big gash on his left flank. Just looking at it the wound made me wince. Then something from deep inside me welled up and flowed from me to the injured Calf. My hands moved in mystic patterns and ancient words whose meanings have long been forgotten poured out from me. I feel to the ground exhausted. It took he a few minutes to regain my strength. Then, together we walked out of the camp and never looked back.

Many months later, I meet up with a short little woman named Siren of the Imperial Order. She and her companions lead me to a town called Freeport. We had many adventures along the way, and although I enjoyed my time with them, I knew my place was elsewhere. I said farewell to my Imperial Order friends and wandered around the town, all the time I felt as though I had seen some of the buildings before. That night, as I stood outside an armory, I met some members of a guild called Scarab. I knew instantly that my place was with Scarab and that with this group of people I could led a happy life fighting for honor, loyalty, and valor.

I smile and think, and I was right. Then, I laugh out loud as I see the dripping wet outline of one of my guildmates enter the Inn. Obviously he forgot where the dock ends....again. Rocking the chair back again, I order us a round of Elven Ale thinking about how much better it is than the Fish Beer I use to drink in Halas.