Eamonn Baker


I grew up as the son of a baker’s family. Not only were my parents bakers, and my brother and I bakers when we were of age, but my cousins and their parents. It was a huge family affair.

For years this is what I had to contend with: learning the trade. I didn’t like it so much. By the time I had reached the age of adulthood, I had lost both parents and my brother to various diseases and wars. My father had contracted the Korthian plague, my mother had died in childbirth along with my almost-born newest sibling, my brother fought in the Battle of Trevormore and was killed by a cavalry charge to his units flanks… it was a distressing childhood to be brief. When all was said and done I had taken over the bakers business with my cousin, who couldn’t be happier to work all day laboring among the flour, yeast, and wood fired ovens.

It was around this time that, while lounging in the local tavern, I became enamored with a passing troubadour, her bright red hair and be-speckled face luring my libido in with abject wonder. I couldn’t resist her charm, her bright piercing blue eyes, her strange foreign accent. She invited me to travel with her in her adventures, moving from town to town with the ease of the flight of a hawk.

Informing my cousin of my departure, I left with her on the road to various far-flung towns and various sights. I found out then that she was a Countess, and she brought me to her castle, a picturesque estate, in some unknown-to-me land.

There, I was introduced to her brother, a bearded gentleman who had the air of an historian and intellectual. Sucking on his pipe, he eyed me up and down and determined that I was fit to learn the secrets of this estate.

Traveling downstairs to the wine cellar, I was greeted with an odd sight: a glass room in which sat a robed skeleton upon an ornate leather chair. I was informed this was an ancient saint that awoke periodically to speak with the living in their minds. The brother and sister would come down to this secret and holy place to pray to this being by candlelight, who shared its knowledge with them in exchange for maintaining this estate and defending it from those who wished to plunder its objects.

I vowed — some would criticize me and say I was compulsed — to aid them in defending this place. I prayed to this skeleton and learned its secrets, and, after about a year in this process, awoke one day to discover that I was asleep among the trees. Getting my bearings, I walked to the nearest town where they told me that they had never heard of an estate like I described, and I felt that perhaps I had begun moving to a state of madness.

Instead, I found a way to travel back to my hometown and reunite with my cousin, who was glad to see me again. After some months of working on the baking business, the duo is approached by one of the Wardens of S.A.F.E. to see if they would be interested in joining. Being proficient and multi-generation bakers, the cousin’s skills would prove invaluable to the rebuilding of society.

Eamonn Baker

Project S.A.F.E. abctuba DougFairall