Sam Creedon


Sam Creedon, (Sawyl Ceridwyn) stands a slightly leaner six feet tall, darker hair bleached by summer sun. Brown eyes. (Will add stats later)


Sawyl Ceridwyn (Sam Creedon) was born and raised in the small village of Tilliarch, where the habits and daily patterns were the same everyday. He could tell when the exact that would pass when the apples would be ready for harvesting, and even though he would know when it was time to take the horses into the stables for the night, he could not lead them.

Creedon (as there were four other Sawyl’s born that year) would sing made up songs about the days of the week. He would not be able to handle the smithy’s tongs, or the dextrous knife of the butcher, or even weave at the loom. His hands seemed to be too clumsy to handle any of the trades tools. He was born not suited for the small village life.

Creedon could tell the tale of the Old Bill and how he got the limp from the night he got drunk on cider, tripped on the goat tied up outside the herbalists hut, then proceeded to get into an argument with the goat, lost and got head butted in the knee.

In the few years Creedon found himself, standing near the guard post to the lone road leading into and out of town. The few visitors would tell news and stories, Creedon would hide and listen to them in rapt attention. That was the only thing that was new. Even though the elders kept saying, there would be new in the spring.

But it would be the same thing over and over again.

His parents agreed that the second of four children, was not suited for the small village, and he would be sent to the larger town of Osta-Baille. He earned his keep, running between businesses reporting information with exact details, making just enough to make return trips to the small mountain village. Creedon took to apprenticing with several of the trades, trying to spend as much time with outsiders, the varigals.

On a further trip to help escort some rare medicinal herbs to a remote border of the kingdom, Creedon was selected to help with the three month journey. He took to the longsword, noting its necessity, but not admiring the weapon itself.

On the second month, the caravan was ambushed by bandits. The battle seemed never ending, too much blood was being spilled by blade, and the bandits screaming became too hoarse. There was something else there, drawn to the bloodshed. In a moment, the forest around them lay still. The air became dense with fog. And the battle screams turned to screams for help. Creedon went back to back with one of the bandits, who spun and struck Creedon across the throat with the flat of his blade. Falling to the ground, gasping for breath, he turned and saw the bandit being lifted into the fog.

Of the few things that he does not remember, it is what happened that day. Sometimes, when the weather is right, and the right turn of the road, he has trouble sleeping that following night. Sometimes the shadows jump out at him, he doesn’t know why. He does know that there was a great battle and half the caravan was lost. Creedon does know that blow took his singing voice was by bandit, but not why he was spared by either bandit or a cruel force that came from beyond mans hand. Creedon keeps his breath for reporting all that he would remember now.

Now, his paths lead further and further from Tilliarch as role of Varigal.

Sam Creedon

Shadows of Esteren PearceKilgour