Based on a character I played in a Dungeons & Dragons campaign.
If you’re seeing this, then I was right, and there is a world beyond ours. I wanted to write this to put it on record that I, Axel Lahtool, am no more than a boy with a passion for peace. Some may call me a hero, but I am only a human, and that’s not so bad.
Entry 1:
I guess I should start this journaling by telling you a little bit about myself, where this journey really began. I hope this clears up a lot of the dinner stories that my people tell back in Thundern. I grew up in Thundern, a modest town, with a little livestock and a lot of people. My family grew up middle of the road, we had enough gold to spend on my dad’s instruments and mom’s robes, more than most people could afford, but not quite enough for us to buy the house on the hill. It had been up for sale for almost a year now, after the wizard who owned it had passed. My dad had mentioned buying it one day, but nothings come from that yet.
My parents were always around, though they were also always working. My mom would hunt for our family, and if she was lucky, she’d find extra that she would sell at the market to get us closer to the house on the hill. My dad would teach me things, like how to build, make fires, survive in the wild, even a little bit of fighting. A lot of what he taught me, though, was how to be a Bard. My dad was a well-known Bard in our town… he was also the only Bard in our town.
He didn’t usually complain, but when he did, it was because of this. He felt lonely sometimes, and I think he wanted me to carry his burden with him. Not to say he didn’t like being a Bard, he said it was his “greatest form of protection,” but still, it seemed when he taught me it was his greatest form of deflection. No matter what, I’m glad he taught me what he did and am happy to say I’ve been able to use some of his knowledge.
In fact, when I was 16 was the first time I used the knowledge he has given me. Dad and I were outside, building a tent out of some cow skin we’d gotten from the market. My mom came running back home with a squirrel in her hand, which was the smallest thing she’d caught in the past few months. She seemed scared, though, like she was running FROM something. She grabbed my dad’s arm, pulling him and whispered to him. He grew worried, then gave her a reassuring nod.
“Axel, come with me,” his voice was firm, different than I’d heard before. I followed, waiting to see what had flustered my mom. We walked through the woods, dodging branches. Every now and then, my dad would slow down and hush me, as if he heard something. After a few minutes of walking, we finally reached a farm, the only one near the town. The field wasn’t large, but the crops were grown thick. Within it, there was movement.
“Axel, you cannot be scared. If you’re scared… they’ll know.” I nodded, assuring my dad, though, honestly, I was nervous. I hadn’t gone this far out from the town, I had only heard about the farm on the side of the trees. It wasn’t anything special, but it kept us all fed when we needed it. My mom was a great hunter, but a strictly meat diet isn’t completely healthy. As we stepped closer to the field, the farmer stepped outside.
“Alexander! You’re early for your pick up.”
My dad waved him away, putting his right index finger to his mouth, shushing him. All of a sudden the ruffling in the fields grew louder. The top of the crops were moving and whatever was in there was coming closer. Then three werewolves began to emerge out of the crops, one paw at a time. They were moving calmly, like they were hunting. Once they had emerged, my father pulled his sword out of its sheath.
One of the wolves pounced at my dad, then let out a great howl as its front legs fell to the ground. The wolf landed on top of him, though didn’t harm him out of pure shock at the loss of its arms. My father crawled out from under the wolf, looking toward the other two. They growled, both of them charging at him. I ran, grabbing my father’s dagger as I passed him, and slid under one of the wolves, cutting its underbelly. Simultaneously, my father swiftly dodged the other wolf’s attack and sliced it in half.
The wolf I had cut turned to me, burrowed his eyebrows, and began to lurk my way. My dad ran, charging into the wolf, though it pushed against him and knocked him over. He laid there, winded, as the wolf picked up speed coming toward me. Then, as he laid on the ground, my father whispered under his breath, though I couldn’t hear him. The wolf whimpered, covered its ears, and ran off. I later learned that my father had used a spell named Vicious Mockery, saying to the wolf, “There’s a reason your pack pushed you out… you’re no alpha, you’re no leader.”
I hadn’t yet learned to use a spell very well, but I was definitely interested now. Plus, the fighting I was taught paid off and my family was safe. My father, oddly already cured as I helped him up, congratulated me on my first “fight” and reminded me that werewolves were typical predators around here, but are also fairly easy to fend off. I wouldn’t have called that easy then, but now I understand where he’s coming from.
When we got home, we saw a crowd around our house. My father asked my mother what was happening, as she responded, “they heard about the farm, you saved the crops.” My father looked, as many people had brought food and gifts. “We did this for Thundern, not for rewards. Thank you for the congratulations, but we cannot take your food or gifts. If there is ever any more trouble for the town, though, you know where to find us.”
That’s where I get it from, my passion for peace… my father was a protector, and so am I.
Entry 2:
I guess, next, I’ll tell you about the first time I defended Thundern alone. About nine months after the werewolf incident, the farmers around the outskirts of the towns had livestock, pigs and cows, going missing. They came to us, as we had told them to if they needed help. They weren’t sure what was taking their livestock, but they thought it could have been wolves, the rest of the pack my dad and I had taken care of months ago. My father was sick at the time, but he allowed me to take his sword, go out, and stay at one of the farms, waiting to see what may come that night. I had spent the last nine months working with my dad, learning some beginner spells and growing as a fighter. To be honest, I feel much more confident wielding a sword instead of using spells, but my father still pushed me in the way of a Bard.
That night, I sat on the porch of the farmer’s house, trying to keep myself awake. Eventually, I heard what sounded like footsteps with the cows, though they were all asleep. I stood up and began to creep toward the gate. Then, from behind one of the cows, an arrow flew by my shoulder and landed in the house behind me.
“Who’s there?” I called out, pulling out the sword.
No answer. I heard footsteps, but still didn’t see anything.
“You know, if you come out now I won’t use my sword. We can talk, I don’t want to hurt you, especially if you’re human,” I spoke out again.
Another arrow flew, this time nipping my leg as it fell to the ground. I walked closer, opening the gate, finally seeing the back of the thief’s head over the body of a sleeping cow. It was green, bald, and fairly small, nothing like I had seen before. I felt a pit grow in my stomach, feeling as if I wasn’t able to fight against a creature like this, that I had never seen before. As I contemplated my next step, the creature turned around from behind the cow, aiming his arrow at me. As we locked eyes, I saw his eyes grow big. His arrow shot off, missing me by a few feet.
“What are you doing here, kid?” his voice was high-pitched and squealy, hard to understand.
“I’m protecting these cows, the ones you’re stealing,” I answered, “Who are you? Why don’t you find some wild life instead?”
“A squirrel wouldn’t do any good, it hardly feeds me,” he responded.
“What? You have a whole cave of you creatures waiting to steal our animals?” I rebuttaled, lowering the sword.
“Creatures? I’m a goblin, kid, and I have to feed my family. We’re not all monsters, y’know,” the goblin said.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you have anymore of our livestock, but I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll give you the five gold coins in my pocket for you to go out and trade for food, instead of stealing,” I pulled the coins out of my pocket, showing that I had them.
The goblin stepped out from the behind the cow. “Gold coins? Do you know how stereotypical that is?” He said, seeming angry.
“I don’t mean to be, I really don’t, I just want to get this solved. If you don’t take the deal, I’m going to have to use my sword, and I don’t want to do that to you… or your family,” I said, holding out the coins.
“Five coins won’t do much,” he paused, “but I guess it’s a start.” He walked toward me, opening a sack he had around his waist.
“Please, don’t make me regret this. I hope it helps, even if just a bit,” I said, pouring the coins into the sack. The goblin only reached my waist and he had a scar from the bottom of his left ear to the corner of his mouth.
“What’s your name?” I asked as he shut the sack and tied it back to his waist.
“Scraggle, but most call me Scar. You?”
“Axel, Axel Lahtool. If you need any help feeding your family, like you truly run out of options, feel free to come find me. I’m usually in town,” I reached my hand out, for him to shake it. He reached up, his hand wrapping around my index and middle finger, and shook my hand.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Scar said. Then, he disappeared into the woods in the distance.
The next morning, the farmers visited our house again, asking what happened. I told them it was a goblin. They questioned me, asking if I had killed it, making sure it would come back. I told them he wasn’t a monster, just a father trying to feed his family, and I had made a deal with him and let him go. They seemed… disappointed. They thanked me, though it didn’t seem sincere, and left. I looked at my father, still sick, as he smiled and nodded, all I needed from him then.
My mom patched up my leg that night, and told me something that stuck with me. She said, “I’m glad you understand that we’re not the only creatures with families, every creature has one, and would do the same you do to protect them. The greatest protectors aren’t fighters, they’re peace makers.”
Entry 3:
After around a year and a half of protecting Thundern from other small predators, my family and I went to a festival in a town called Hawgbush. They were celebrating the music and art of the local areas. My father had a flute and was very musically talented, though he never really used his talents because of his calling as a Bard. This festival allowed him to meet other music-lovers and he wanted to take my mom and I too, so we could share the experience with him.
As we wondered from tent to tent, hearing a new melody and seeing varying colors with every few steps, I found myself getting lost in it all. I had never seen so much beauty, I thought the hills and forests of Thundern were the pinnacle, but now I knew how vibrant the world really could be. I could feel my body growing warmer and the festival growing brighter and brighter, I felt like I could burst into— WOOSH! The tent we were standing at went up in flames. The lion-head of the chimera let out a powerful roar as the dragon-head snarled, smoke coming from its nose. I had gotten lost in my head, but was brutally pulled back into reality as I noticed the trail of smoke and fleeing people the chimera had left behind. Its wings flapped, sending smoke into the air.
“Axel!” My mother coughed as she called out my name.
“Mom, I’m right here,” I said, reaching for her arm, though she wasn’t there.
“Axel! This way!” My father’s voice came through the smoke, though at a distance.
I stood still, looking up at the beast. Surely I wasn’t the only protector at this festival… but even if I was, that shouldn’t stop me from trying to defeat this beast.
“We’re not in Thundern, honey! It’s not safe here!” My mom’s voice rang out, as if she knew what I was thinking.
“I- I’m right behind you!” I called out.
I turned to the tent behind me, still in tact, and picked up one of the swords that were on display. As I picked it up, the tent went up in flames and the shadow of the chimera covered me. It flew over me and landed between me and the exit, where my parents and the other civilians ran. For a split second, I wondered why my father had run, instead of fighting, but just as that thought crossed my mind I inhaled the smoke from the tent.
I held the sword up, done hesitating, and ran straight toward the chimera. As I ran toward it, the goat-head saw me and came lunging at me with its horns. I ducked and sliced its right wing as I passed it. All three heads let out whimpers, fire coming from the dragon-head. Then, as I turned to charge again, two arrows shot from behind me, one hitting the goat-head in the left eye and the other landing on the neck of the beast. I looked to see who was behind me, seeing a ranger running behind a tent. Before I could turn back around, the chimera had charged toward me, knocking me over with one of its front paws. I slammed into a tent-post, losing my breath. From the smoke, a hand stuck out to help me up.
“Son, come on, we have to go,” my father said, helping me up.
“No, help me, help us… someone else is fighting too, we could beat him. We can save the festival, the art,” I said, catching my breath.
“The damage is done, we have to go,” he said, grabbing my arm.
“I’m doing what you taught me to… I’m protecting,” I said, pulling my arm away from him.
His face fell, then he looked up and nodded.
“If your mom asks… we got lost,” he said as he pulled a tent post out from the ground.
The beast let out another roar and I saw two more arrows in its side. I knew that if whoever this shooter was could distract the beast, dad and I could kill it. My dad pointed down the trail, signaling for me to go around, as he walked the opposite way. I nodded, and began to go around the beast. As I went around, I saw all three heads turn simultaneously in my father’s direction. On noticing this, I caught a glimpse at the beasts’ right back foot and swung the sword at is as hard as I could. The beast roared as it lost its balance. The goat-head came toward me again, but as it charged, another arrow hit its second eye, blinding it completely. It flailed around until I jumped, swinging my sword, cutting its long neck off from its body.
The goat-head fell at my feet. I pondered on it until I felt the heat of the dragon-head’s flames. I looked up, seeing the dragon-head still focused on the side of my father.
“Dad!!” I screamed, jumping onto the side of the beast. I pierced the skin with both hands, stabbing the beast. It shook its body, sliding me down its side as the blade sliced its side open. The beast flung its body aggressively and I lost grip of the sword, flying off of the beast. It turned to me, smoke pouring from the nose of the dragon-head. The lion-head lunged at me, jaws wide open. I shut my eyes, hoping my end was quick and that my parents would be proud of my protecting.
The dragon-head roared again, this time seemingly in pain. I opened my eyes to see a tent post clean through the neck of the lion-head. My father helped me up as two more arrows shot toward the dragon-head. It was nice to know the mysterious friend hadn’t left us yet. The arrows hit the dragon-head’s ear, bouncing off and falling to the ground.
“I have an idea,” I looked at my father.
“Run?” He asked.
“No, remember when you and I would trick mom by hiding me on the roof as she came back from hunting when I was little?”
“Yeah…” he seemed confused, until it hit him, “you’re a bit too big for that now, don’t you think?”
“It’s all I got, dad, help me out.” I said, bending over to tighten my shoes.
He shook his head, then got down on his knees, his head toward the beast. I stepped back, lining myself up with the sword in the side of the beast. My father gave me a thumbs up, so I took a deep breath and started running. I ran toward him, jumped on his back as he stood up, grabbing my ankles. He pushed my ankles toward the beast. I flew onto the beast, landing on its back and drawing the sword from its side. The dragon-head turned to me as I swung at its neck and missed. It had dodged my swing and was now looking down at me grinning. It inhaled, smoke from its nose retreating into its nostrils as I shoved my sword up, through the bottom of its mouth and out through the top of its head. The beast fell, dust and smoke flying up as its body and wings crashed into the ground. I sliced the dragon-head and lion-head off of its body after sliding off of the beast.
My father and I walked out of the festival grounds, greeted by many of the civilians who had rushed away. My mother ran up, grabbed my father and I and pulled us into her arms. She said nothing, just embraced us… probably because her relief was far stronger than her anger at us for staying in there.
“My son! My son! Has anyone seen my son? He brought his bow, a teenager with a bow, has anyone seen him?” The lady ran around, frantically, asking everyone she could if they’d seen her son. My heart dropped. Surely, if my father and I made it out, so did he, right? My father looked at me, nodded, and then gave my mom a kiss on the cheek. As he went back toward the smoke, I stopped him.
“Dad, let me… this is what I’m called to do.”
He put his head down as I walked by him, into the smoke. I rushed back toward the beast, that’s when I saw him. The kid, with a bow, his leg stuck under a burnt down tent post. I ran toward him, realizing he was unconscious. I pushed the tent post off of him, picked him up, and carried him out. As I came out of the smoke for a second time, the boy’s mother cried, “My son! Oh, my baby… you saved my baby!”
As she made a scene, I laid down her son. More civilians began to realize the smoke settling and seeing the fallen chimera behind me. They began to clap and cheer, my parents celebrating too, and asking me who I was, how I did it, where I was from.
“I am Axel Lahtool, of Thundern. I couldn’t have done this without this kid and-“ I looked over at my father, who shook his head, “and my passion for peace.” They all cheered, crowding around me. I asked for space, and then I told them. “I thank you all for this celebration, but do not praise me. I was only doing what I was called to do. Now, I’d like if you all did the same, using your gifts to help this town of Hawgbush to rebuild their fair.”
They stood, in awe, and then they looked at each other until the father of the boy spoke up, “I brought some tools with me, let us rebuild this festival to be greater than before!” They cheered, then began into the festival grounds to rebuild.
I never learned the boys name, though I know he grew conscious before we had left the festival. My parents and I didn’t stay to rebuild, though we’ve gone back every year since then. My father rewarded me with a flute that had come from his father. He told me he had bought it from the same festival many years ago and he figured it could help me remember my greatest achievement as a protector, and the beauty of life. After this moment, I was more than a protector of Thundern… I was a folk hero to every town involved with this fair.
Entry 4:
After the festival, my life changed. I wasn’t just known, I was adored. Kids drew pictures of me in their classes and adults called on me for every minor inconvenience, just to say they knew me. I would still fight off wolves and predators, but the festival was my greatest feat.
It wasn’t until another year or so passed that I faced my next real challenge. I was asked to visit the city of Hawkhaven, which had been cursed by a banshee. My father warned me not to go, to let this one pass, but I didn’t want to let the other people down. I slept on the decision, then the messenger returned in the morning, and I agreed to go with him. I apologized to my father and told my mother I would be back soon. She shook her head, though her eyes began to well up.
After a day of travel, the messenger and I arrived at Hawkhaven. It was a nice city, though there weren’t many crops or animals… or people, for that matter. It was pretty, but desolate. The messenger stopped at the city gates and turned to me.
“The banshee resides in the castle left of the town hall. We, the people of Hawkhaven, wish you good luck.”
“People?” I asked. “Uhh… it looks pretty empty to me. You won’t even step into the city.”
The messenger frowned, then answered, “Please, take our home back for us, we’re counting on you.”
I took a deep breath, shook the messenger’s hand and thanked him for guiding me here. As he walked off, I stepped into the city gates. As my foot hit the ground, my skin grew cold. With every step, my skin grew colder, but I pushed on. I couldn’t let these people down. I was a protector, a hero, I had to save this city.
I came up on the castle, drew my sword, and opened the door. It creaked open, then slammed shut behind me after I stepped in.
“Come out! Leave this city and find your home elsewhere, away from these innocent people!” I demanded.
“Innocent?” A chilling voice surrounded me. The hair on my arms stood up, my body grew colder, almost numb.
The banshee revealed herself, stating, “None of us are really innocent, are we?” She smiled, then pointed, “You have killed animals for being nothing but hungry! You are not innocent! You are no hero, only a murderer!”
I was frozen still, paralyzed by both my guilt and the presence of the banshee.
“What’s your name? Why have you cursed Hawkhaven?” I managed to ask, gripping my sword tighter.
“Why both me with names and small talk? Have you come to make a deal o to save this city?”
“I was hoping to do both, but you don’t seem to be the deal-making type.”
The banshee let out an ear-piercing laugh as she flew in circles around me, then up, out of the castle. The doors swung open, and the banshee’s voice rang throughout the desolate city.
“Run, and your father will see you again, or stay and prove him right!”
Just then, visions my father and mother flashed into my mind. My mother was weeping over my father, as he had grown sick years ago. I realized that he was cursed, that he had come across a banshee, too. Then visions of the werewolves, ripped apart and hungry, the goblin, trying to feed his family, and the crowd, chanting for me, all came into my mind. I grew weak and afraid. I ran out of the castle, toward the city gates, tears streaming down my face. I- I couldn’t beat something I couldn’t fight or make a deal with… I was defeated.
I had no choice but to run. Out of the city, past the gates, down the road, away from Hawkhaven. But I couldn’t go home, the weight of guilt and shame were too heavy on me. So I ran until I found a town, called Phandalin. They didn’t know me there. I could start a new life.
That was three months ago. I am still in Phandalin, laying low. I miss my parents, but I don’t think I could ever stand to see the look on their face if I went back to them… defeated. I am writing this outside of a tavern that I am about to play in to try to get some money. I am pretty well off, but I need to find lodging and don’t want to use my current gold. I’ve never played this flute before, either… so I hope I’m as naturally talented as my grandfather is said to have been.
Anyway, if you’re seeing this, it means two things. First, I was right, there is another world beyond mine, and now my story can be told. Secondly, let these entries be cautionary tales… don’t grow so passionate that you become prideful, don’t always believe the crowd, and protect everyone, as much as you can. I don’t know if I’ll ever fight again… but I hope Phandalin doesn’t need too much protecting anytime soon. I’m going to focus on my flute skills. Mom, Dad, if this ends up to you… I hope you’ll have me back one day, I’m sorry it won’t be today. I need to find my own peace before I protect anyone else’s.
This is the end of my journal. Please, share these stories. I hope that whatever you hear about me after this is… good, at the least. Thank you. Goodbye.