Played by Jack.
There is a tale told to the cubs before they are ever allowed to touch a weapon for the first time. It is a tradition held by all of the bearfolk in Redglade, a village buried deep beneath the great redwoods and mighty oak forests that harbor its people. Redglade and the other villages of bearfolk for miles around use these wilds not for hiding or running from danger, but as their fortress and their battlefield. Each day brings forth new challengers and new tests to strengthen the villagers. From groups of hunters and mercenaries sent to claim their heads and pelts for trophies to giants, ogres, and other monstrosities looking for another meal, the bearfolk roar in the face of each of their aggressors and stand strong. It is always true that bearfolk are runners by nature, but they never run from a fight but rather headfirst into any they encounter.
But this is not the tale the cubs are told before their first fighting lesson in Redglade. While every cub growls and moans waiting for their first chance to show their strength, an aged bearfolk of silvering maw and fading cap sits on a small arm chair at the edge of the training ring outside the Grove of Woven Time. He calls the cubs to attention and with a quiet but firm command he recounts to them the tale of the quiet ember:
Though embers in a pit of coals glimmer dimly with orange light,
Do not mistake their faded glow for a spark without a bite.
For flames may lash and dance about to scorch the world around,
the ember waits for one last breath and a chance to burn your crown.
This is the wisdom of the elder village trainer known by Mirag Ailor.
Back Story Bonus: Stat boosts
The bearfolk of Redglade had ventured out on a brawling venture to Mistgrove some 60 years ago but were slightly saddened to find only the ashen remains of what was once a flourishing bearfolk town. While they honored their fallen brothers and praised the glorious battle that had been fought, one of the youngest of the party could hear a faint whine coming from the remains of a toppled shop in the main shopping street. After spending close to an hour removing the fallen timbers and walls from the floor, He was shocked to discover a small cub curled in a shallow hole at the center of the wreckage with some mild burns and cuts. Upon this discovery the young fighter returned to the party and presented the child to the raiding leader Bris Clowrath. Admiring the child and aspiring to protect what remained of the fallen village, Bris proclaimed that the child would join them in Redglade until the council could decide its fate.
Many days had passed and the council had finally sent Bris to the villagers of Redglade with a decision for the cub. "From hence forth, the cub shall be treated as our own. He is not a guest but a brother. I shall raise him myself. He will be called Mirag Ailor in his own right. For what remains of the shop sign that could not snuff out this light shall be the fuel that drives his fire."
Eight years passed and Mirag began his fighter training amongst the other cubs. While he was not exceptionally strong or reckless like his kin, he was ruthless in his strategy and coordination. None within his class could fell him soundly, but he would not seek to kill them. While his martial prowess did enthuse the elders including Bris himself, they feared his lack of brutality would bring his own death if not the death of others during their first hunting venture. Despite these hesitations, Mirag insisted on proving himself worthy of his stone, the reward for all first successful hunts.
During the hunt, the small party and Bris their hunting guide stumbled into a very large pack of hunting wolves. while a normal pack would be the perfect choice for a first hunt, this pack would easily outnumber the party 3 to 1. While Bris struggled to find a chance to retreat, Mirag was able to examine the woods around him and lead the party and Bris back to the safety of the village post where the guards and nearby townsfolk helped to assault and drive off the remaining wolves. Though Bris suffered heavy damage to his left arm, he was able to join Mirag and the elders in the stone gift ceremony a few days after the nearly disastrous hunt. During the stone gift ceremony, young Redglade fighters bring forth a stone of their choice to the Grove of Woven time within the training grounds were they place the stone in the hopes that the redwood that adorns the center of the grove will reach out with its roots and embrace their stones showing their rise to maturity and status as Elders in the village.
23 years have passed as Mirag has grown into quite the battle strategist amongst the venturing brawling and hunting parties. While Mirag has never taken the life during these excursions, almost every kill and victory has been given to him in honor of his astounding resilience, forsight, and command of the field. But Mirag sought more than these accolades from his peers. He sought knowledge of the world around him ever since the day he read the forests and guided his old training mates to safety he has longed for a deeper connection to the woods and the life that also called them home. Bris, now deep in his years, argued with him diligently, pleading that his talents should not be wasted on the crafts and knowledge of the druids and mages but used to help his people out in the field fighting everyday against the shadows that hunted them. Mirag refused these pleas and began to train under the local druids in secret in order to satisfy his hunger for understanding.
After close to 6 years of this secret study away from Bris (now an Elder with his stone gift of a large one handed axe) and the Elders, Mirag decided that he was not required on the hunting grounds or the brawling parties any longer, but that the knowledge of strategy and restraint still needed to be there. He returned once more to the Elders and pleaded with them to let him give his knowledge to another so that he could protect more than just his party out amongst the trees. While the Elders did not think it wise to remove such a strong fighter from the field, they granted his request in honor of his now declining adopted father Bris who had started to succumb to his age some two years prior.
It has been another 7 years since Mirag was given permission to help train another fighter in his ways and in that short stretch he has been able to train close to 20 new fighters in this brutal mercy style that he has developed for the venturing parties. Mirag emphasizes with each new student that killing everything and everyone in your path seldom shows your honor and invites more pain and suffering to return onto them. With his many lessons and strategy exercises drilled into their fighting styles, the venturing teams had begun to see fewer and fewer casualties and far more rewards and glory. With such high success and his gifted stone ready in the Grove of Woven time for him to claim, Mirag was given the postion of Master trainer for all of the village fighters, his stone warhammer which was given the name KEITH (Killing Everyone Isn't Truly Honorable), and the title of Quiet Ember Mirag Ailor as his official Elder name.
Even after 14 years of training the youth of Redglade and serving as the lead strategist on the council for the last 5 of those years, Mirag still roars through the training ground as fast and dexterously as in his youth. With the venturing parties continuing to show great success in their expeditions, the council has become aware of news from many other bearfolk villages not only in the nearby forests but from even further beyond their typical influence. It seems there has been reports surfacing of large attacks on many of the villages leaving nothing but smoldering ash in their wake. Those who were able to escape describe a booming voice sceaming to them thorugh the flames "RETURN TO ME THE PRIZE OF MY ANCESTRY!!! RETURN TO ME MY STONE!!!" Concerned and puzzled by this news the coucil has decided that, despite his increasing age, Mirag is the village's wisest and most able hunter and scouter. Mirag accepts the task of venturing out solo in order to investigate these claims and acquire as much intel as possible about this arsonist assault on all of bearfolk kind.
So here on this last day of training he calls together all of the students of the training ring and recounts once more the tale of the quiet ember:
Though embers in a pit of coals glimmer dimly with orange light,
Do not mistake their faded glow for a spark without a bite.
For flames may lash and dance about to scorch the world around,
the ember waits for one last breath and a chance to burn your crown.
And with this final tale Mirag stands from his chair adorned with his faded cap and KEITH firmly held in his right hand, ruffles his patchwork green vest, hikes up his worn red canvas shorts and begins to make his way out of the ring. Before he is able to exit the clearing, one of his most promising students runs to him and begs for him to stay instead. But with heavy eyes Mirag gives the small cub one more tale; the tale of the bound wanderer:
No matter how great the distance stretched
no matter the weight of the stone
there is no barrier great enough
to keep him from his home.
For the world may bind his arms and legs
right through his very bones
no chain or force shall hold him from
the ones whom he calls home.
With his final lesson shared and all of his supplies gathered, the Quiet Ember Mirag Ailor begins his journey out on his own to find the ones who seek a stone through the fires that they grow.
