About It All

These are the journeys of Casrus, a Bugbear in our Dungeons & Dragons campain. The story we’re collectively telling, is written from his perspective as it plays out, although he can’t write or read in-game. It also includes some internal monologue the other player characters might be able to pick up on.

Casrus is a Mercenary Veteran Barbarian, 45 years old, and has spent most of his life in the company of mercenaries making a living as a sell-sword - or sell-axe to be more precise. He does not remember much of his childhood, and he is not sure if that is because of the alcohol he drinks in copious amounts after the jobs the company hires him for, or because something’s wrong with his head. Maybe it’s both. He’s not smart, that’s what his comrades tell him, so what good will it do him to think about it anyway? He continues to drink and doze off after a day’s or night’s work. When the booze hits, the questions disappear.

Comrade. A weird word for the people he works with. Do they see him as their equal, a group of comrades working towards a common goal? Probably not. Everyone he can think of has a rank and position, but he can’t remember his boss ever telling him his. And so he finds himself doing the work no one else would do, or so he thinks, often in the shadows, time and time again. He doesn’t question it. Well, he might not belong, but the pay is still good.

He has been with the Red Plumes in Hillsfar at the southern shore of the Moon Sea for quite a while. But now everything changed. The job sounded easy enough, and fighting, often killing, is what he does for coin. As he raises his axe to kill the man he had hunted down, something unexpected happens. He hesitates. A picture in his head, dinner, a feeling of familiarity. Then another picture: a wolf, the smell of fur. A feeling of déjà-vu, not that he’d know that word. In the end he does not bring down the axe on this man’s head and lets him escape instead. Did he hesitate or was that his decision? The man did not seem the least bit afraid. Thinking about the situation makes his head hurt. What is wrong with him? That man reminded him of someone, or some place. Did he know that man? And what about the wolf? He can’t remember. Why can’t he remember?

That evening he makes another choice: he does not go back to the group of mercenaries. He collects his weapons and remaining gold, takes one last swig, and flees the city heading westward. He’s not afraid of them, but this is a conflict he does not need right now. He can face that later.

After being a few weeks on the road, he realizes he has to finally get some work or he will soon run out of money. With his brutish appearance, pointed teeth, dark amber eyes and matted red-brown hair, there aren’t that many options he thinks to himself. With a charred stick he scribbles FOR HIRE under a crudely drawn axe on a tattered piece of old parchment and heads for the cheapest tavern. The barkeep knows better than to laugh at the childish drawing as he sees the large Bugbear put it up on the task board. A drink wouldn’t hurt now. “I’ve earned that”, he thinks to himself and sits down, his hulking figure crouched over the last free table.

Next: Waterdeep Origins