Ox

One of the characters from the Elanoraverse

On Paper

Human, Barbarian
Ox (No second name because his father said 'I have no son' in a fit of pique before banishing him. Father was the tribal leader, so his name was the same as the tribe's name. He will adopt the name of the new tribe if it gets one.)
He uses a sword, a sling, and javelins.He is big, strong, and tough. He may be quite reasonably good looking, but he is not exactly the sharpest tool in the box or indeed the most skilled philosopher. He does have a method of compartmentalising the world that makes sense to him, but it might be stretching things a bit to call it a philosophy.

History

Ox's former tribe overwinters at various villages that mark the edge of civilisations foray into the steppes. The one he was born in is only one of several that the tribe camped outside of with their herds to corral them and protect them from the wild winter predators. They turned to the nearest village when the weather grew cold. By the first snow it was as well to be camped. The big tents would be pitched and prepared against the cold.

The snow sets in, and the grass is no longer available for the herds to graze, so they bring them closer to where there is more forage that can be collected to feed them, and where they can be more easily guarded.

Ox is partially accepted by the villagers because he spent some time there after his mother was forced to stay behind when the tribe left. (Ox was a big baby, did I say? and made her last months and the delivery of him difficult.) He is therefore thought of by both sides as partly of them, and partly not of them.

Because of a stupid misunderstanding, over the terms of protecting the villagers one particularly harsh winter, the tribe and the villagers were practically at each other's throats. Ox attempted to intervene to calm things down, and found himself rejected by both sides. Cast out, disowned by his mother and his father, he made his way, not out into the steppes, but toward the civilisation he knew practically nothing about.

After wandering alone for some time, learning that much of what he knew was increasingly useless in a city, he happened to meet a nice young lady in a bar. At the time, he was feeling very sorry for himself, and perhaps a little vulnerable. A small amount of ale that was possibly slightly stronger than he was used to had him 'half in his cups' as the saying goes.

However, whether aided by Ox's fogged mind, or by her pure charm, the nice young lady and he became firm friends. He would be her bodyguard. They had something in common. She too was estranged from her family, which Ox understood was very similar to tribe. In a moment of deep significance for him, he adopted her. They were a new tribe. A very small one. Since she holds such an important position in his life, and effectively takes the position of tribal council, she has perhaps undue influence on decisions the new tribe makes.

He does not follow her like some love-lorn puppy. He follows her like a mastiff. Possibly accidentally scaring off even people she might like to be with at times. Perhaps if the tribe grows a little larger it will become easier.

Ox has a very simple philosophy. Every thing and every one can be placed on one of several categories.

  • There is tribe.

The young lady, who I am sure will introduce herself in her own way, is now 'Tribe'. Ox would die to protect the tribe.

  • There is Herd.

There are things and possibly people who count as 'herd'. The way Ox was brought up, a stranger alone on the steppe might be protected just as though they were tribe, but if a band friendly of strangers were met, they might only be protected at if they were herd. Ox would fight damned hard to protect the herd, but his own life, and those of the tribe would not be forfeit to protect the herd. The herd will be expected to help fight wolves.

  • There are wolves.

These threaten the herd, and also the tribe given a chance. These are killed on sight, without question. Not all wolves are actually wolves, and there are bands of green-skins who roam the steppes, and count as wolves.

  • There are rocks.

Most things are rocks. Even rabbits are rocks. They do not threaten the herd, or the tribe, and unless they are needed for food, they are best left to live in peace.

After Play.

New Year 2010/2011

Now, because of the teachings of Bethla and Tryn, there must be a new compartment.

  • There are Nettles.

Unlike most plants, nettles are not considered rocks. Nettles can be medicine when used right, but most of the time nettles sting the unwary, causing pain and irritation. Yet when used right they can be nutritious and invigoration. It is best to be aware of nettles and avoid them. Only those able to handle them properly and who are well versed in their use will want to approach them.

Ox has now adopted the second name Bethlasband.
In what was the proudest moment in his entire life, Ox stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Pryce against the assembled hordes of Witch Storm Spawn and killed entire regiments of that terrible army. Cutting them down with the power of the blade he inherited from the vanquished former Battleblade of the keep they had sworn to defend.

Ox (Storm-Spawn Slayer) Bethlasband. reached the second level, along with his friends and fellow tribes-people, after performing feats of bravery and courage that appeared to give lie to his lack of years. The band performed tasks worthy of seasoned adventurers and proved themselves able to save The Salted Earth from its former fate as a blasted plain of pitch and sh*t.

After Play.

August 2011

We are pursued by a creature of metal, called an Ordinator that seeks to kill us. I am told it is because we changed the Salted Earth into a rich land where crops grow, and beasts can be kept without herding them for miles across the steppes. It seems the metal creature liked the Salted Earth as it was, with its wasteland of pitch and sh*t.

Ox is now level three, as are his friends. I learned that there is a land where the UnDead are treated with more respect than the living. I even spoke with one at length in an attempt to understand why those who we would fight without question are so revered. I still don't quite see why, but I believe they are taken in just as I have heard a wolf cub may be, and raised to protect the tribe instead of attack it. I worry that the wolf-cub is still a wolf, and could one day attack from the safety of the tribes camp.

I have heard that there are people from the plains, as they now call the steppe, who do not herd animals. They raid the villages and towns that edge the steppe. These are not the horse herders, nor those like my old tribe who herd goats and cattle. I had a dream. and in it I was in a town that was burning and destroyed. There were tribesmen doing the burning and killing, but when I turned to face them they called me their leader and chanted my name. I don't think the rest understand my dream. I am not the leader of a tribe, much less a tribe that kills and burns instead of living with those who respect the land, and drives cattle to new pastures. The dream has worried me. Bethla Tryn Pryce and Cragg taunted me, chanting Ox! Ox! Ox! Like the pillaging tribesmen in my dream. It worried me. They think I am someone who would burn their towns and steal their belongings. They believed I wished to become chief of the half-giant tribe. They have stopped listening when I speak. They think me stupid. They do not see that I am just different to them, like they themselves are to me. I accept their magic, yet some in the tribe think magic is wrong.

I learned that Pryce speaks the language I have been taught by Early Snow, who is a Shaman in my former tribe. She said I would need to know it when I eventually became the chief of the tribe after my father died. It was sad to think that my father would die, but she said I must be prepared for it to happen eventually. She is a wise old woman. I wonder why Pryce needs to know it, and why the Dragonborn speak it with their strange accent? They appear to use it as their own tongue. Most odd, it is a hard language to learn and harder still to speak.


We finally ended up in Bethla's City Pranäva-Ir, and were not given a good welcome. The city itself was impressive enough, but we saw little more than underground corridors and walkways. Bethla has done something terrible. She has caused much trouble in her city. I am not sure she knows what she has done. Maybe it is the book that she lost to the Lich under the keep. We were lucky that her aunt showed us the way out and created a magic portal that provided our narrow escape. There was a terrible fight with strange singing fighters who used light that blinded and scorched my flesh. When the portal opened I tried to save the rest, but it seems I calculated wrongly. The three who attacked me also attacked the rest, and I came close to death, only saved by Cragg, the dog-man who dragged my lifeless body through the portal.

I had hoped that the enemy would be somewhat confused by my sudden appearance on what had been their safe side. Thus allowing the rest of the party the best chance to join me in the portal, which I would have reached ahead of the rest. I had reasoned that two of the enemy would have had the chance to get a blow in even if I used Pryce and the two females as cover in my own retreat. I reasoned that using them as cover was both cowardly and against almost everything I stood for. One route meant three foes would get a chance to hit me, the other only two, but I would then (in Ox's eyes) be using the very people I had sworn to protect as a shield.

The choice, for Ox was a no-brainer. For the odds of just one additional attack against him he would both offer his friends the added safety against opportunity attacks and save himself the detestable knowledge that he had used what he saw as the two most vulnerable members of the party to protect himself. He may no longer fully trust the rest of the party, but they were still his tribe, and he would die to protect them.

At the end, while Trynn tried desperately to save his life, Ox lay dying. Her frantic attempts eventually appeared to succeed. Ox sat upright, with a tremendous intake of breath, appearing to suddenly come back to life. When he lost conciousness he had been in full flight towards the portal. In his mind he yelled “Quickly, to the portal Bethla and Trynn, Pryce, you should be safe, they struck at me, so they can't attack you. Cragg is fine.” What actually happened was a dry croaking noise emitted from his throat. Possibly the only words that were discernible were the names in the middle of the sentence.

Then the barbarian's big heart finally gave out. His colour rapidly faded to an ashen grey. With a look of frightened pain etched into his bruised face, he looked around at his companions, searching their faces for an understanding that was not there.

Ox slowly slumped at the feet of his companions.
Ox had realised that his final dash had not saved his companions. In fact his dropping from the blows he took had meant that others had put their own lives at risk to bring him through the portal. Despite their terrible mocking of his dream, they had not left him behind. His dream had been important somehow. He knew it was, he just didn't understand how it was. What parts were real now and what parts were from the reality he grew up in. How could they mock him so?

Despite their not allowing him to speak, not listening when he had something to say; they did not leave him behind when they could have done. Ox was ashamed and confused. He had been deeply hurt by those he was sworn to protect, yet had let them down himself. Even with his final selfless act he had put them in danger. His will to go on had ebbed away.


Contributors to this page: Len and Alan .
Page last modified on Wednesday 28 of September, 2011 00:23:19 BST by Len.

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