Ghost of Kalidria
The Calm has ended. It is now time to bring the Peace.
Asher Vincent was born in Malatin during the Calm. Working on his father’s farm and helping his mother with the housework, Asher was raised to be humble, hardworking and kind to those who deserve it. He trained with his father with swords, staffs and archery, although he never knew why he bothered. After all, the great Calm has been going on for about 300 years, so why would his father go through the trouble of training him? But he tossed those thoughts and continued his training nonetheless.
His father and mother would sometimes pray to Halis, Goddess of Life and Healing. They weren’t as religious as other Malatin natives or anyone else for that matter, but they prayed on occasion simply to recognize the goddess that shared the same principles as they did. Asher didn’t pray as much but he also recognized the principles and the ethics of the goddess as his own, seeing as his parents raised him as such.
A few weeks before his 13th birthday, his father went out for an errand with the Dwarven blacksmith, Durin late in the evening. Asher was asleep in his bed when a huge commotion woke him up. There were sounds of a struggle in the other room of his house and Asher jumped out of bed, only to see a goblin pierce his mother in the stomach with a near-broken dagger.
“How?”, he madly thought. “I thought this was the Calm! I thought there weren’t anymore monsters! Why is there a goblin in my home!?! WHY IS MY MOTHER DYING?!?!”
Filled with fear and rage, he charged the attacking goblin, knocked it down, tore the dagger out from it’s hand and stabbed it until the blade had broken. Sitting on top of the pulpy remains of the goblin, he saw the glassy eyes of his deceased mother. All the rage he had spent on the goblin had been reignited as he quickly picked up one of the glaives he and his father used to train with and run outside.
What he saw was something he had never seen before: pure chaos. The smell of blood both human and goblin, shouts of anguish and death, clashing of steel that had every intent to kill, the burning of fire that wasn’t in a simple lantern or on a torch, and the bodies. Women, children, men and goblin alike, strewn out on the street in small bloody mounds. This was one of the rarest occurrences of the Calm: a goblin raid. Asher’s rage had reached its limit and ended up charging at whatever fight between man and goblin was closest to him. He charged and slew whatever goblin he could find, until he ran into a larger and smarter goblin. He charged anyway but the smarter goblin parried the strike and kicked Asher into the dirt. It wasn’t until Asher tried to get up did he realize that he had spent too much energy running and swinging wildly in the town. The goblin readied his weapon to strike but as soon as it did, a sword pierced through him from the back and a great axe cleaved the goblin’s head from its body. It was Asher’s father and the blacksmith, Durin who came in just before Asher’s demise.
“Son? Are you alright?”, his father asked. But Asher could not respond. Exhausted both physically and emotionally from the goblin raid, he passed out where he laid.
Asher woke up nearly a day and a half after the raid. He saw the remains of the carnage and swore to train hard enough to fight whatever injustice that would cause this kind of chaos. He asked his father to train him even harder and asked Durin to make him a blade that would suite him.
“You’re still a child, stupid!”, Durin bellowed. “You haven’t a need for my weapons just yet! Come back when you’ve proven yourself!”
Despite Durin’s rejection to create a masterpiece for him, Asher still trained diligently for 8 years, further developing his skills in swordplay, glaives, archery and even healing. It was on his 21st birthday that Durin surprised Asher with a gift. It was a glaive that was beautiful to the sight and deadly to any unfortunate soul who faced it.
“But I thought I had to prove myself.”, a confused Asher spoke.
“Fool, you’ve already proven yourself. That goblin raid years back showed me you had the guts to hold one of my masterpieces. Of course, its still not my best work, but maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll make you a better one when you’ve REAAAALLY proven yourself.”
At the age of 21, Asher has become a paladin. Unfortunately, because of the lack of any formal training, he isn’t as strong as he could be. It was also at that time that he met a 14 year old talented spellcaster named Able, and a dragonkin named Adrian. The elf ambassador, Vyertinn had been in Malatin for a while, and so he and Asher have been acquaintances.
His father’s name is Joel.
His late mother’s name was Mei