Root

Lagan Rootfriend Valu-Navi of the 69th

## Backstory

*From the history-keeping writings of Auvith Stoutheart Nola-Keaku, Chieftain of the Kulumulathi Goliath Tribe of The Copper Mountains.*

This is an account of the life and achievements of Lagan Valu-Navi, who was exiled from our Copper Mountains some five years ago.  He was born thirty years ago to Thundereye and Fearlessrunner Valu-Navi.  His father, Thundereye was one of the finest trackers I have ever seen, and his mother Fearlessrunner had the courage of a thousand of us.  I once saw her charge headlong into battle by herself against two cave trolls who were threatening the children of our tribe.  Lagan comes from good stock, and his birth was much rejoiced by his parents and our clan.  Of course, all births are celebrated amongst the Goliaths, as our existence is hard-fought, and every child born is another potential warrior in our fight to survive.  I was not chieftain then, just a young Goliath with no honor-name looking to make my mark upon our world.

As he grew, Lagan showed interests in many of the same things in which most young Goliaths show interest and was especially adept at the game of Stubborn Root, where he would defend a hill top or mountain path from other young Goliaths.  His personality seemed similar in aspect to his mother’s, and even as a child his protective nature toward his friends and family was fierce.  Once, when he was eight years old, an unwise twelve-year old named Puthag made unseemly remarks about Lagan’s mother.  During the next game of Stubborn Root, as Puthag the unwise made his way up to dethrone Lagan, he was met with a fury so profound, that I have not often seen its like, even in our greatest warriors.  After Puthag’s broken leg was set, and Lagan was shunned for two weeks because he used a rock during his lesson to Puthag, he helped the tent mothers tend to him until he could walk again.

Once Lagan met the age of accountability at ten years old, he began his intensive training and immersion into the world of being part of a clan.  He learned to fight with many various weapons but was most adept at the Warhammer.  His father taught him to track and hunt and his mother taught him to fight and to be brave.  As he grew his skills, he became a great, wise hunter.  He was of average size for a Goliath, perhaps even undersized, but his courage and determination were peerless.  When he turned twenty, however, events occurred that started in motion his exilement.

During a routine hunt, his father was hunting alone and had tracked a herd of goats into small valley deep into known cave troll territory, approximately five miles from the land of our tribe.  Wanting to prove his valor, and, also wanting to have an excellent story to tell, Thundereye began using his bow to pick off the goats. As he did so, he was struck from behind by a boulder knocked loose from the mountain during an unseen cave troll dispute.  Thundereye’s legs were both crushed, and he was trapped for a day until I came across him during a search.  He told me what happened and seemed disappointed that he didn’t hear the two cave trolls bellowing at one another sooner.  Our treaters and tent mothers did what they could to help him, and in the end, he barely survived, but his mobility was greatly reduced.  After the accident, he was unable to move swiftly and track as he had always done, and half a year after the accident, our Lamentor met with Thundereye and told him that must leave the clan, as he was no longer able to help with its survival.  This, of course, is common in our species, and it happens to every Goliath who does not die in battle.  When one is no longer useful to the clan, they are sent away.  Thundereye took the news quite well, but Fearlessrunner and Lagan did not.  They both pleaded to our clan’s Adjudicator, but in the end, Thundereye’s banishment ruling was upheld.  In an act of grief, Fearlessrunner revoked her ties to the clan, and exiled herself so that she could remain with her partner.  Lagan pleaded with his mother not to go, but she would not listen.  She forbade Lagan from going and entreated him to become the greatest member of our clan, and to give his all for the continuation of our society.  During the exile ceremony, our Lamentor sang long songs of honor for Thundereye and Fearlessrunner, and they began their long journey into the rest of their lives.

After his parents were gone, Lagan’s drive became even greater, and he became hyper-competitive with his hunt-mates, which drove them to look for ways to outdo him and his achievements.  Seeing that he was becoming reckless, even for a Goliath, our chief took him away from active hunts, and assigned Lagan the position of Dawncaller.  His job was to guard the camp at night, and to awake the clan in the mornings with songs of bravery and valor.  It was during these quiet nights, according to Lagan, that he began feeling closer to the world around him.  He told me that the stillness of the nights quieted his anger at his parents and caused him to feel an intimate connection with the life that existed all around him.  It was during his twenty-third year that in his spare time, he began collecting various plants, saplings, and other vegetation when he was able.  Not much grows in The Copper Mountains, and Goliaths are not known for their farming, but Lagan had a knack for making plant life flourish.  At one point, he had an entire brambleberry orchard growing on the side of one of the coldest ranges in The Copper Mountains.  The orchard produced so many berries, and various animals feasting on the berries, that it enabled the tribe to stay in that area for an entire extra winter.  During this time, I had been promoted to Chieftain and I gave Lagan the honor-name of Rootfriend, but all the clan members called him Root, for short.  It was during this time that Root told me he began dreaming of a red dragon perched upon a cloud, and also a fiery elf woman who told him her name was Dol Arrah. He said that during these dreams, she encouraged him to protect life and give it room to flourish.  She began to tell him that the Goliath’s way of shunning those who could not provide for the clan was not always for the best, and she encouraged him to seek another way that would allow more life to flourish.

It was during his twenty-fourth year that Root came to me and told me that he wanted to leave, that he no longer felt that the way of the Goliaths was a true path, and that he wanted to learn more about the world outside of his clan.  He wanted to go into the city and see what he could learn and find there, and he wanted to learn more about Dol Arrah.  He said he would take what he learned and use it to continue strengthening the Goliath clan, but I did not see how he could do that without being here for his tribe.  In a rage, I told him to leave and never return.  I told him that he was a disgrace to his clan for abandoning us.  I did not take away his honor-name, as I should have, simply because I wanted him to understand that only the roots of his beloved plants were his only clan.  I forbade him from talking to anyone and sent him on his way down the mountain.  No songs were sung for him, and no tales would be told, not if I could ever help it.  His mother left for the love of her partner, but he was leaving because he thought we were wrong, he was questioning the entire way of life that had allowed Goliaths to survive for ages.  If this doubt had begun to creep into the rest of the tribe, our entire future would have been in jeopardy!  Very few Goliaths live to an old age, therefore most Chieftains do not benefit from the council of the age.  Because of that, we must make our decisions mostly on what instinct tells us is the correct choice.  What happened next would solidify the idea that I had been too harsh.

At the beginning of what would have been his twenty-fifth year, a traveling merchant brought with him goods for trade, and delivered to me a letter from Root.  The letter read:

*“Honorable Chief Stoutheart,*

*Greetings.  In my year of banishment, I have discovered many wondrous things about our world of Davros.  I have begun walking a Paladin’s path in service of Dol Arrah.  She entreats me to live life with joy and light, and to forgive those who need forgiving, but also to seek forgiveness for my actions.  At first, I was angry at the way in which you dismissed me from our clan, but I want you to know that I understand.  You were right to feel as you did, and I may have acted irrationally in the way that I announced my leaving.  In my attempt to be forthright and honest, I may have spoken harshly about our people’s ways.  I understand that change needs to come slowly, and that my ideas could have endangered our clan.  Our family taught me to be fast, strong, and fierce.  Through the teachings of our Tent Mothers and captains, I have learned wisdom and the importance of accountability.  I want to thank you and all our people for helping make me who I am today.  You will no longer hear from me after this letter.  I have been chosen to take an expedition into an unknown land, and I will not be able to return.  In this new land, I will try to reconcile the ways of the Goliath with the ways of Dol Arrah.  I will defend the weak, protect the innocent, and make way for life to flourish.  I will forge bonds with a new clan and use what I learned on The Copper Mountains to make this world called Hardholme a place where goodness and justice thrive.  I hope that I do so with your blessings.  Please forgive my transgression against the clan and offer a prayer of support as I go.  I will tell stories of our people until the end of my days.*

*Lagan Rootfriend Valu-Navi”*

 Overcome with doubt about my decision to banish him without allowing him to say goodbye, I made the perhaps unwise but honorable decision to share the secret of Root’s self-imposed exile and my reaction to it with the entire clan. After the day’s hunts, I read his letter to the tribe during our evening meal. After dinner, those who remembered Root gathered to celebrate his life and to have conversation about his decision.  Stories were told, drinks were had, and fruit from a freshly-bloomed brambleberry bush were eaten.  That night, in a final act of farewell to our departed clan member, our tribe’s Lamentor gave him a song worthy of his name.  I pray that somehow it reached his ears, though he is now a lifetime away.