Author's Note: This is the backstory and life of my shaman, Maelbeth Darquewolf, as he explores the wilds of Norrath and Luclin, finding friends and love in the least likely of places. Many thanks again to Dorei's player, the love of my life in the real world and the wonderful players on Firiona Vie.

The shaman paced the main room of her family's lodge, running her hands over the added girth her leathers and furs no longer concealed. Her dear husband was coming home tonight along with their sons for the first time in over half a year. "Damn these long campaigns," she swore under her breath. She understood that they were the will of The Tribunal and necessary for the continued security of Halas but that didn't mean she had to like that they took him from her arms for long months on end.

"Seangwen?" a familiar and deep voice called through the doors.

"Owimyr" she smiled and walked toward her husband, mildly enjoying the pole-axed look on his face. She took his hand and placed it on the swell of her stomach. "I was beginning to wonder if you would return before this little monk arrived."

"Monk?!" the stout warrior stammered, dropping his packs from his shoulder.

"He or she kicks like one," Seangwen laughed and placed her mate's hand in just the right spot to feel a strong nudge against the unwanted pressure.

"You don't know what it will be yet?" Owimyr asked curiously as he knelt down in front of his wife and continued to antagonize the small life inside her. This struck the warrior as odd. By this point with their five older children Seangwen already knew if it would be a son or daughter.

"I'm letting the spirits surprise me," the shaman laughed when Owimyr's hand moved over a still ticklish spot. "Also... I want to ask a favor of you, love."

"Anything," came the soft immediate reply.

"Runvan and Dellyn have already completed their training with the warrior's guild and accompany you on those long campaigns. Braena should finish her final quests with the Wolves of the North before the winter snows set in. Dacla has been doing well with her training with the Beastlords according to Field Priest Keven when we last spoke. Ribohiel has decided to follow her friend Tukanta's lead and work with the merchants in the guild rather than go through the training herself." Seangwen groaned as the persistent kicking began to make her body ache. Shuffling slowly she settled herself into a chair by the hearth, smiling when she found Owimyr right by her side.

The northman nodded at her words thus far. "I'm glad to hear our daughters are doing well, but what is this favor you wish?"

"I want this child to follow me in the ways of the priests." Before Owimyr could open his mouth to protest she was already 'aiding' him out of the furs that warmed him beneath his armor. "I'm not getting any younger Owimyr. Most likely this will be my last child and I want at least one that I can pass my knowledge on to." A wry smirk formed on her tattoo stained lips as she ran her fingers over battle scarred skin. "You wouldn't deny me that would you, love?"

A muffled no was all the answer she needed. She would get this child, son or daughter, as her protege.

TBC....