Pryderi Amaethon
Pryderi Amaethon is a middle-aged Ulnosti folk hero whose origins have remained a mystery from public knowledge. From fighting off Orc raids, to serving the Ulnosti king on personal quests, Pryderi has amassed a following which has pushed him into fame. Many have questioned where he came from, and what drove him into becoming a hero, but he has refused to elaborate on anything to do with his past until quite recently.
Chief Archivist Sigmund O. Beck, I am writing to you in regards your request to the king. I suppose if any are going to know my story it might as well be you. My name is Pryderi Amaethon, son of Cranog. I grew up with my father and mother on our farm just North of Barracksmouth. With no siblings to help it was just me to help my family with the farm duties. My mother taught me to read and write and I would sit in a willow tree that grew next to a stream near my house. Wolves bandits, and the occasional Orc raid was nothing new for us, and my father would go out with other men in the surrounding area and any local guards, if we were lucky. My father would always return talking about the adventure like it was a fun local tavern fight, until one day when he didn’t return. The grief of losing my father drove my mother into a silence that I could not break. We had to sell the farm, but I bought us a new one, albeit a lot smaller, and further North. It was more dangerous, and a further journey to sell the crops I grew, but I made a quiet life for my mother and I until she passed when I was 19. A year went by and I was in Barracksmouth for one of the local festivities when I met my wife. She was my age but instead of dancing and singing like everyone else she sat alone with a book in her hand. I noticed her hair was black like coal, with Oak eyes that looked deeply into your soul. I approached her but to my dismay I tripped and spilled my drink all over her and the book, ruining it. In a rage she hurled an insult at me and left, but just hearing her voice, how the slur of raging words sounded like linguistic magic to my ears, I was entranced. After that day, every trip I made to town I would search for her, and when I found her I learned a little more about her. I learned her name was Gweneri, she came from a wealthy family, and her favorite art were pieces drawn of the Autumnvale which she visited at least once every couple years. As my visits became more frequent, I began gifting her any books I could get my hands on, and when I would return again she would have read them and insisted I take them back to my home so that she could visit one day and read them again. This is about the time I began to write to her, letters that described my farm and the surrounding lands that accompanied it. Sprawling fields of tall grass, forests that held until mysteries, and flowers in every color imaginable. She would write to me about her father who insisted she marry a well to do man and that it was her duty to her family to do so. She did not want that however, she wanted to explore the world, live life as an adventure, and meet all manners of people. I promised her all these things and more. What a silly thing to promise I realize now. Years went by until finally her father set up a marriage for her with another influential Ulnosti family. It was now that she finally confessed her love for me, and the feeling was mutual for me. How could I not? I had fallen in love with her when I first glazed upon her all those years ago. A week before her marriage, her and I met outside of the town and rode her families horses. We rode for hours, and I can remember that I was not all too good at it, but she was amazing. However, as amazing as she was, not even she could've saved herself when her horse was startled by an Orc scout who had been hiding in the grass. Gweneri’s horse threw her from itself, and she fell badly on a protruding rock. The Orc charged her and I wish I knew what happened but the next couple seconds were a blur. All I know is when I came to my senses the Orc was dead in a pool of its own blood. Apparently I had beaten it with a rock until it’s brain showed. Apologies Sigmund, I know these are not the details who wish to read. Gweneri was not dead, but the injury to her back paralyzed her from the waist down. Bringing her back to her family, the local physician examined her and said it was bad. Her father only cared if she could still sire children and the answer he got threw him into a rage. She was excommunicated from her family. I took her back to my farm with me, and for three weeks she laid in bed without a word. This was until I put a seat out in a meadow under a tree and sat her down in it, with a book in her hand. It was the first book I had ever given to her, about a Dwarf who was lost but found his way home. I don’t know what exactly it was, maybe it was the book, or the breeze, or the sound of birds, but at that point she woke up from her shell and saw life one again. From that day forward I did everything for her, and I was happy. I can still remember watching her reading even while the Sun set, and only after the darkness surrounded her she would ring a bell which told me she was ready to go back inside. I even made her a chair with wooden wheels from a design I had picked up in town from a traveler. We lived like this for years, but I knew books could not hold her forever. She read about the world, but I wanted her to see it herself. I learned in town of certain people around the world who could work miracles, whether by magic or other means that could make Gweneri walk again, so I began saving money. I even began taking jobs to help bounty hunters in Ulnost catch local criminals which took me away from home for weeks at a time, but they brought in more money. More years went by and the money I saved grew and grew until I had enough to pay for Gweneri’s recovery. Since her birthday was coming up, and I had been keeping my plan to heal her legs a secret, I told her I was traveling far to get her a special birthday gift. In reality I was leaving for the Du Vin Academy in Bergeaux to find a man named Prewitt who studied there and whom I had been in contact with for over a year. For the right price he claimed he could heal Gweneri, and so I went to fetch him. The journey was long but I succeeded and Prewitt returned with me to my home to do that which he had promised. Again I apologize Sigmund, finding the right words is difficult for me here even though it was years ago. The point is when I returned home, there was no home left. Maybe it was bandits, maybe Orcs, but I returned to find my home and fields burning, and my wife dead from a blade outside, holding onto the book about the Dwarf. I buried her body and sat with her for three days. Prewitt had left on the second day back to Bergeaux, saying there was nothing he could do but he was sorry. Sorry? He was sorry? I’m sure I said some harsh words to him then, words I regret now. It wasn’t his place to fix everything. The mistake for leaving her was mine and mine alone. After a week, I managed to get up, and make my way back to Barracksmouth, with nothing but the money, and the book. Drink took me, and I spent a long time in the taverns spending the money on trying to forget. It wasn’t until one night when I was out wandering the streets in a drunken state that I stumped and tripped onto the spot where I first met Gweneri. I remember tears swelled in my eyes, and all I could do was cry. Memories are a powerful thing Sigmund and mine took me all the way back to that first night where I saw her reading. I took the last thing that reminded me of her, the book about that stupid Dwarf, and I opened it. You know what was in there? Written in blood were my wife’s last words to me. I won’t repeat them here, as they were written for my eyes only, but what few words they were drove me to stand up and move forward. From there I used the remainder of the money to buy weapons and armor and roamed the land helping people wherever I could. So that's it. That is my story. If you want to know what I do, what I do or what keeps me going, I’m still trying to figure that out. However deep down maybe I’m just trying to protect what Gweneri loved, and that's okay by me.
Comments