Echoes of Forgotten

Penrod

"I'm Penrod, a halfling," Penrod said, reintroducing himself to the party. "I don’t really have a place I’m from. I was born in a mercenary camp. My mother died shortly after I was born. We moved from place to place, wherever there was work."

As Penrod began to tell his story, the memories returned to him. He was only 15 when he first picked up a sword and stepped onto the battlefield. He was shaking and terrified. The war horns sounded, and the war cries echoed across the field as soldiers charged at each other. Penrod had no choice but to run with them, fearing that if he didn’t, he’d be trampled by the rushing warriors.

He locked eyes with an enemy warrior, who swung his sword upwards toward the young halfling. Penrod barely managed to defend himself, his trembling sword absorbing the blow. They clashed for what felt like an eternity, but Penrod’s strength faltered. He was being pushed back, his own sword dangerously close to his neck.

"This isn’t a place for a kid," the enemy warrior sneered, adding more force. Penrod struggled, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer. Then, suddenly, an arrow whizzed past and struck the enemy in the head. A second arrow followed, landing in the warrior’s throat. He coughed up blood and collapsed.

Penrod looked toward the source of the arrows and saw his father's friend, the man he called "Uncle Lyu."

"You alright, kiddo?" Lyu called out, lowering his bow. "Stick close to me."

Penrod followed Lyu closely, watching in awe as his uncle fired arrow after arrow, too fast for the enemy to react. Lyu's arrows found their marks with precision, dropping enemies left and right.

Four days passed since that first battle. Penrod lay in his tent, still wondering if he’d survive the next fight. He saw his father in the distance and approached him.

"Father," Penrod muttered softly.

His father turned, eyes filled with anger. "What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to train your sword, you useless bastard?" he snarled, throwing a bottle of booze at Penrod. It missed, but Penrod flinched. "Get back to training!" his father barked.

Penrod ran to the training camp, where he found Lyu practicing with his bow. Lyu, blindfolded, stood poised with his bow, listening to the creak of the wooden dummies as the wind passed by. In a swift motion, he released three arrows, all hitting their targets squarely in the head.

Penrod, who had been quietly watching from the corner, was frozen in awe.

"What do you think about the bow?" Lyu asked, still blindfolded.

"How did you know I was here?" Penrod asked, amazed.

Lyu smiled. "I didn’t know it was you. I just knew that a small someone was standing there, blocking the wind. Turns out, it was you."

Penrod grinned. "I’m a halfling."

Lyu chuckled. "Halfling, kid, it doesn’t matter. You're small, just like me. Dumbass."

They both laughed.

"Do you want to learn the bow?" Lyu asked, pulling off the blindfold.

"Father wants me to learn the sword," Penrod replied.

"Forget what he wants," Lyu said. "Think about what you want. We’re mercenaries, Penrod. We could die tomorrow, or even today. So do what makes you happy while you can."

Lyu tossed him a bow. "You can be a swordsman and use a bow. I’ll teach you the basics."

For the next two weeks, Penrod trained under Lyu. His swordsmanship improved, but so did his skills with the bow. When the time came to enter the battlefield again, Penrod felt the familiar fear, but there was a strange calm within him this time. With his sword in hand and a longbow on his back, he was ready.

As the battle began, warriors charged at each other once more. Penrod remembered Lyu’s words: *Use your size to your advantage—attack low, but fast.*

He met the gaze of an enemy and swung upward, but this time he dodged swiftly, slipping behind the man. He slashed at the enemy’s thigh, blood spraying as the man collapsed to his knees. With a final thrust to his throat, Penrod ended his life.

Penrod's first kill left him shaken, but he pushed through, repeating the technique against every enemy he faced. Then something caught his attention. A large figure—a goliath, with skin like stone—was holding another man up. Penrod's heart sank as he recognized his father in the goliath’s grasp.

Without thinking, Penrod nocked an arrow and fired at the goliath. But to his horror, the goliath used his father as a shield. The arrow hit his father's neck. Penrod froze in shock.

"Penrod, we need to retreat!" Lyu’s voice broke through the haze as he shook Penrod back to reality. Lyu noticed Penrod’s bow and his father’s lifeless body. "Come on, Penrod. It’s not your fault," Lyu urged, pulling Penrod away from the battlefield.

As they ran, the goliath hurled a massive boulder toward them. Lyu saw it coming and, knowing they couldn’t both escape, whispered a spell. Using his longbow, he pushed Penrod out of harm's way. Penrod watched in horror as the boulder flattened Lyu.

Tears streamed down his face as he grabbed Lyu’s longbow and fled into the forest. He ran for two days until he stumbled upon the small town of Serif. To survive, Penrod registered as an adventurer. He honed his skills with the bow, swearing never to miss a shot again. Juts two years ago, a glowing green mark appeared on his neck—a hunter's mark. His journey led him to Melset, where he took on simple jobs, about tracking an old documents. And that was where he met the party, and their journey began.

Penrod looked at the party, finishing his story. "That’s my story."

"You’ve been through a lot," Fina said, almost hugging Veoford again, but she stopped herself just in time.

Penrod didn’t miss the chance to tease her, grinning widely.

Dianaim laughed softly. "Fufu."

"What?" Fina asked, pretending not to know what they were laughing about.

Penrod looked up at the stars, his mind wandering back to his past. The party continued talking, sharing their stories.