The shaman awoke in the icy darkness to the low growl of her wolf pet. Gathering a woolen blanket about her, Kelticbaeb stepped to the doorway and parted the furs to peer out. Giving a deep sigh she picked the envelope from the snow powdering her doorstep - yet another collection notice. She plopped to the cold floor and rued how things had gone so wrong. Sensing her despair, the wolf gathered close and nuzzled his mistress with a wet nose.
Against her own judgement, the shaman had married that wide-eyed dreamer of a warrior but a few moons ago. Always full of grand ideas and schemes, that Wolf of the North had swept her off her feet. But when he'd taken a notion that married life wasn't for him, her newly wedded husband took off without a word. He left his new bride alone in the home they'd built on the frozen tundra - and stuck with the bills. Old friends who didn't want to get mixed up in domestic problems suddenly made themselves scarce. She found herself restless and alone on the tundra during these endless nights of the Long Winter.
The shaman thought of a recent conversation with an old friend. Kelticbaeb confessed that salting down herring or mending worn snowshoes were hardly how she desired to spend the rest of her life. She recalled memories of treasure looted from dank dungeons filled with shrieking undead and many a hard won battle. Maybe that estranged husband had it right - the call of battle ran fierce in the blood of barbarians. Her friend urged her to begin a new phase in her life. Time to start anew and expand her circle of friends.
Later that morning, the fire-haired shaman made her way to the Plane of Knowledge. Her long legs cut a quick pace thru the crowd and soon she stopped before a tall marble building. The sign above the doorway read "Walkers of Vazaelle" in fine flowing script.
Opening the door, Kelticbaeb stepped inside where a human female sat at a desk fiddling with paperwork and a quill. In a room to the side dozens of coils, geers, sprockets, and a variety of fascinating devices crowded the shelves and tables. A wizened gnome with grease on his face whistled to himself while tinkering with some contraption. He seemed in complete oblivion to the rest of the world and perfectly content.
"May I help you?" the woman at the desk addressed the shaman, looking down to the snow puddled on the marble around her fur boots. With an nervous grin Kelticbaeb toed the snow behind her. The shaman pulled her references from her potion bag. "Good day to you. I apologize for the snow - a fine blizzard was blowing into Everfrost this morn. My name is Kelticbaeb. I have traveled here at the advice of an old friend, who thought perhaps Walkers might have room for a shaman in their ranks. Could you direct me to someone who might have word with me?"
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I am Kelticbaeb, 53rd season barbarian shaman. Kelticbaeb, and my alt (43 DE cleric, Tinuviele) have been grouping periodically with some members of Walkers over the past few months. If anyone has need for my cleric or shaman, I'm willing to lend a hand.
I'd be more than willing to answer any further questions you might have of me. I'm looking forward to meeting more Walkers and perhaps call this my home. Kelticbaeb Darkbane,
53 Mystic
"The Wandering Shaman"
Tinuviele,
43 Cleric of Hate
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Kelticbaeb Kystalheart
Glorinda Morquendi
Hurricane Survivor - 2004 season: Carl, Frances, Ivan, Jeanne |
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