There is a camp in a clearing. You can see the smoke of the dying fire rising high into the sky and smell the woody scent mingling with that of the firs that surround the camp. It is busy with several men and women having their breakfast and preparing to break camp.
Everyone, that is, but one man.
He is tall and stalwart of build, coming from what is most certainly very hearty stock. His short red hair, goatee and moustache are tousled by the gentle breeze. If one were to merely glance at him and spy the fine blade lying at the ready next to him or see the glint of his adamantine breastplate in the morning sun, they would probably think him a fighter. Certainly his muscles are most well toned and there is a strong sense of both grace and endurance about him.
But upon closer inspection, it can be seen that this is no ordinary warrior. In his lap sits an arcane tome, much used and well-loved. His ink-stained fingers turn the pages one by one as he mutters to himself in a fetching tenor brogue.
It may also be seen that there are many pouches upon his belt wherein the necessities of creating various arcane manifestations lie and also several items of strange and mystical make upon his person, including a finely wrought circlet of iron he wears upon his forehead and a torc made of electrum that graces his neck.
Even more strange, though, is the priceless holy symbol of Valerian, God of Magic, that hangs around his neck.
But it is his eyes that truly betray him for what is is -- a master of both arts arcane and divine. They fill with an intensity rarely seen in men as he ponders his spellbook and clutches his holy symbol. There is a kindness and easy manner in them, and that and the many lines around his mouth bespeak a jovial spirit and many late nights of drinking and laughter in more carefree days past. But there is also a wild, free-spirited look in them that denotes an impulsive and temperamental nature. And, perhaps troubling, there is a sleeping fury that can be ascertained in them as well that, once released, can be more destructive and furious than all the harrows of the Nine Hells. But most of all there is a bright gleam that belies a great and insightful intelligence.
Who is this man, who seems to follow the seemingly incompatible paths of wizard, warrior and priest and who straddles the gulf between them?
He is Loden, Gatekeeper and Protector, Warrior Magus of Breasal and Arcanist of Valerian.
After a thoughtful pause, he picks up a quill and the small journal he has been scribbling notes in the entire time the party has known him. Knowing it is almost time to go, he writes quickly.
"I never thought the road would continue to be my home beyond my Aisling, but so it is. I never expected to become such fast friends with such a motley bunch of foreigners, but so it has happened. We've shared more adventure, agony, danger, despair, laughter, triumph and wonder than I could possibly relate and it has bound us all together, Fortune's Children all. I've never been so close as this with anyone in my life! I never dreamed that I would have such bizarre, exciting and harrowing adventures, taking me far and wide, even to the Abyss itself, or that I would learn firsthand so very many strange and wonderful things about our world and its inhabitants. Much less that I would be involved in making some of the greatest deeds of this age a reality! And never did I think that in so short a time I would grow in prominence and stature to be such a very respected archmage and hero amongst my people! Nor that I would become Gatekeeper and Protector of Breasal from the accursed Gith (every one of whom I shall track down and destroy!) and any others who would seek her harm. And certainly not that I would become chosen cleric of Valerian, hailing from a people long jaded in matters of religion as a I do! But often the road we find ourselves on in life is not the one we started walking. It is the greatest of honours that I can represent the Free Land of Breasal in this band of heroes and do my share to save not only my own land, but this world of ours itself. And not only that, but to count such bold and valient men and woman as allies and friends. May we all prosper in the days and months to come. Valerian and all the Gods protect us all -- I know we're going to need it."
Closing the tome, a broad smile dawns across his lips. "Time to go, my friends, the world awaits and we mustn't keep it waiting".