Wiki Pages – Page 62 – Last Hope Larp

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Aoleon Vance

Aoleon Vance grew up with family in Aldoria. His father
was a traveling Tutor from Vandregon, and had fallen for
Aoleon’s mother, who played lute at an inn he
frequented. The two of them started a family, though when he
stopped traveling, his income suffered. Though, their
affection for each other was so strong, that not even
poverty could dampen their spirits. They managed to build a
house, and raised a fine son, the dangers of the outside
world a distant fear from inside their warm little
family.

Though Aoleon never new riches, he knew
happiness, learned manners and all manners of things as he
grew. It was fortune in the form of a candle fire, burning
their home, that saved them from the first wave of undead.
They saved what little food and possessions they could from
the fire, and made their way away, spirits dampened, but
brim with hope. They were safely a week’s travel closer
to the coast when the rubble of their home was overrun by
the undead plague.

It was fortune that saved them, and it was
fortune that tore them apart. A simple mugger: a man,
nothing more, armed with a simple dagger, looking for
silver, and desperate enough to spill blood for it. Aoleon
Vance managed to escape the man with nothing more than the
clothes on his back and his mother’s lute. He managed to
make way onto a boat heading to the new continent before
things got insurmountably violent.

On the voyage and for a time after, he traded
lessons and stories for food. Though he was not trained in
any craft, he apprenticed to several shopkeepers, learning
not only the value of a coin, but also how to tell how badly
somebody might want something, or what they’d be willing
to pay for it. Buying from some and selling to others (as
well as a bit of scribe work), he made what he considered a
fortune: he was rarely hungry, and had grown in strength and
knowledge enough to explore his interests.

He owns two scrolls, each inscribed with one of
two words: Faedrun and Mardrun. In the fear that the great
libraries of Faedrun have been destroyed, he plans to
compile as much information about Faedrun’s history, the
colonists who escaped, and their families as he can; in the
other scroll, he hopes to write what he learns about
Mardrun’s history, their inhabitants, and the problems
that plague this land. He has recently made the decision to
forgo his last name, knowing it won’t open any political
doors for him, he hopes at least that it won’t burn
bridges before he even has a chance to cross them.

To achieve these goals, he has begun traveling.
For the past almost three months, he has traveled with the
Brotherhood of Last Winter, sharing meals and stories.
Though they treat him friendly enough, he still considers
himself an outsider, merely a traveling companion. He’s
excited to get a chance to explore the fascinating new
continent, and though he has no idea what’s in store for
him, he knows that he can do good in the world.

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Page 62

Ivar

Character: Ivar
Player: Joe Pierce
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
Origin: Richtcrag

Bio:
Born to Helga And Braun Wolfspliter. Life with them was short, and ended tragically. During a Late night raid victims lost to slaughter in this cold night of resolution. This village had been fighting off the undead hoards productively for years . Many proud and famous warriors sprung from the loins of this settlement carving their way, writing their stories of valor and glory in pools of enemies blood. But not this night . This night there would be no stories to tell , no glory to behold. This night, there is only darkness, an end of this village.

As the screams of the first victims alerted the others, Helga took her son and hid him in the food storage locker. Sleeping softly nestled in a basket of bread loaves and honey rolls, Too young to understand what was happening around him. As the undead slashed stabbed ,and then chewed their way from one end of the village to the other, till all were processed into an unrecognizable version of their former selves. When the dawn broke and light shined in Var ran from his hiding place.

The next few years where not much more than a blur for Var. Work small jobs earning coin and always moving, running. In his fleeing he found himself on this new continent. He still worked and moved restlessly but with less fear in his movements. Working for a few weeks at a time instead of days. Even staying a few months in places. But still always packing up and leaving when that restless feeling would rear it’s head. It was on one such of these moves, when Var was 25, that it happened. His party was raided.

Var’s group had stumbled near enough to a Mordok settlement where the occupants were none too pleased. The group had been either killed or ran off, only Var remained. He had been slashed, beaten, battered, and bruised within an inch of his life but the Mordok seemed to have a use for him in this state. A commanding figure walked forth and looked at Var. It seemed to bark some guttural orders to those around and they dragged Var into a wooden cage and locked him inside.
Var passed out soon after.

Var has no real account of how long they kept him locked up. They kept him in a weakened state. They barely fed and watered him. It seemed it was only enough that he wouldn’t die. Many would come and stab at him or scream at him. Once in a while the same commanding figure would come to look at him. It would seem to mumble to itself and cast some bones then shake its head and leave. It appeared to be a shaman. One of these visits the shaman seemed excited by the casting and there was a large uproar with the others.

After however long of living in wretched filth, for only the gods know, the Mordok seemed to have their use for Var. He was weak, his head spun, but he knew this could not be good for him. In their hasty preparations they had finally left Var without a guard. He worked as hard and fast as his sickened body would allow. He finally got the lashings free and slipped out of the cage that held him for so long. He ran away from the camp as fast as his feet would carry him. He was a good distance away when he heard their shouts of rage. He knew they would catch him and quickly. He came to a small stream and tried to wade through but it was much deeper than he expected. He started trying to swim but was easily swept away.

Var barely held on to his thought. He was fading fast. He drifted for what felt like days but was in reality only an hour. He felt something lift him out of the water and he slipped into an unconscious state. He awoke in what appeared to be a long house surrounded by people. It had been so long since he had seen any one else. He was shocked he did not know what to do. The eldest male stepped forward “What is your name?” He asked. It had been so long, Var had lost so much of himself there. He could not speak. His throat hurt. The man saw that it was a struggle for Var and said “I Brom” pointing at himself. Var was able to force out “I Var.”
“Ivar it is.” Said Brom with a smile.

In his new home , now Ivar, had relearned how to be human. How to talk and how to write how to hunt and how to farm. All the skills he had lost in captivity. Finding his place in this tribal warrior community, his ferocity got him far amongst his peers. The simple fact of the matter is his old family on the happiest holiday of the year was rougher than this races worst day ever. This gave him an edge in the warrior department. All the time trying to fit in , trying to be the best warrior , hunter, provider. But it was only a matter of time before Ivar’s restless nature grab hold again and he moved on from his temporary home.

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Page 62

Aimerick Bordeaux

PLAYED BY: Ryan Jopp
CHARACTER NAME: Aimerick Bordeaux
GENDER: Male
CLASS: Rogue
AGE: 30
RACE: Human
HAIR: Brown
EYES: Brown
OCCUPATION: Professional Mercenary (Member of the Gallant Feathers)
KNOWN SKILLS: Armor, shield, instructor, crossbow, spear
BIRTHPLACE: Aldoria
APPEARANCE: Average human but adorned in shiny plate and red/gold colors of the Gallant Feathers
NOTABLE TRAITS: Terrible accent commonly referred to as “Dirty Aldorian” which is a byproduct of the extreme mix of cultures in the bustling economical centers of Aldoria.
RELATIONSHIPS: None.

UPDATE: After being captured by mordok, tortured, wounded, and corrupted, Aimerick was in very bad shape. He pledged to the Stormjarl/New Aldorian contract enemy, not wanting to be left behind when the Gallant Feathers went to fight. Corruption continued to wrack his body and fester his wounds, making death imminent. The last patrol in during the second month, Aimerick refused to stay back at camp or with the supply wagons and ended up succumbing to wounds taken to the battle. His body was burned on a pyre alongside other fallen warriors of the campaign.

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY: Aimerick was born to a normal family. His mother was involved in some of the affairs of nobility but mainly as an assistant to many different business contracts. His father was a professional mercenary, a member of the Iochlaocra. What began as a romantic evening of swooning and courting between a lady and an intriguing mercenary quickly turned into a broken family of raising a child amidst growing gambling debt and drinking problems. Needless to say, Aimerick’s parents had no love for each other.

Growing up in the bustling districts of Aldoria saw all sorts of adventures… and trouble… for Aimerick. He commonly ran with the wrong crowd and ended up working off many petty childhood crimes or debts of service. His mother grew cold and was busy working, so their bond never really took hold. Although she loved him, he was a constant burden on someone trying to make a living. His father, on the other hand, would return after being away for many months on some sort of contract. He loved to play with his son and to Aimerick, he was a legendary hero in a funny hat. This further drove a wedge between Aimerick and his mother; she worked hard to provide for him and his attention was fixated on his father, the sporadic times he visited before disappearing to the nearby casinos, taverns, and brothels.

As Aimerick grew older, he took random jobs to help around the house and began to live a rather normal life. On his 15th birthday, he received a letter. His father had been killed on a contract. Two nobles squabbling over some property hired opposing mercenaries to fight it out, resulting in the death of Aimerick’s father. There was no grand explanation, no epic battle to detail his final moments, just a note about taking an arrow through the throat and a small severance package of silver coin for his service.

This is when the war with the undead became real. They marched on Aldoria, tearing across the land, and the kingdom was about to be lost during “The Fall”. Aimerick’s mother bought him passage on a boat but was forced to remain behind. He still does not know if she survived or not… if she made it on another boat… but with no word for years, it does not look hopeful.

Upon arriving in Newhope, Aimerick took up random small jobs and eventually took up mercenary work. It tugged at the experience he gained from his rough life in the streets of Aldoria, threatening to engulf him in crime and petty fights. It wasn’t until the Gallant Feathers mercenary unit made a visit to Newhope that Aimerick found his true calling. He fondly remembered the days of his father, the prestige of being in a real and professional mercenary unit. He volunteered and eventually joined, becoming a member of the Gallant Feathers mercenaries.

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Page 62

Nico Tizdra

Played by: Jacob Beardsley
Name: Nico Tizdra
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Race: Human
Hair: Brown
Eyes: blue
Occupation: scientist
Known Skills: alchemy
Birthplace: May’kar Vandregon border
Appearance: wears white and blue robes

Bio

December 16, 248
I found this journal in a house we raided. My mother said I should keep a record just in case. So here I go, my name is Nico Tizdra. I am the son of Boron Tizdra and grandson of Dominik. My father started a group of monster hunters in the name of his father. It is mostly our family and friends and anyone who will take up the fight against the undead and penitent forces. We call ourselves the Watchdogs. I was born September, 238. I have an older sister and a younger brother. We live in both the southern part of Vandregon and northern part of the May’kar dominion. We move around a lot so it is sometimes hard to tell but we all consider ourselves true proud May’kar. As for the Watchdogs, we recruit from anywhere that will join. It’s like a large second family. Right now the war is getting really tough and the winters are even worse. It’s been thirteen years since the May’kar betrayed everyone. I wasn’t born at the time so I don’t remember anything but I do remember never having a true home. The undead are worse than ever and it’s getting harder than ever to stay alive. Whole towns are left broken and bloody from the undead. The Watchdogs track and kill undead and do our best to stay alive. That’s easier said than done, just last week we lost three and we lost ten the month before that. We’re down to about twenty people from the fifty we had traveling with us a year ago. Well, it’s time to pack up and move again so I got to quit writing for now.

September 16, 249
Some of my recent entries were ripped out of my journal. I don’t remember doing it, or where they might be, but I don’t have time to worry about that now. We found some survivors south of a village called Carriagestead in the southern end of Vandregon that brought us back up to about thirty people and so far we are holding that number.

November 02, 249
We have just received reports of a large undead force moving to the North. My father and the rest of the engagement team are planning to intercept them. I’m not worried because they are all clerics and my father is even a Witch, just like my grandfather.

November 10, 249
The engagement team just met back up with us. They are badly hurt and broken. The undead were too strong. There were more cultists and greater undead than anticipated. My father tried but had to give the order to retreat. There are only a handful left out of the fifteen that went out.

January 20, 250
Winter sucks like usual less food every year and even less in winter. So hungry. But hey, can’t complain, we found more survivors willing to fight. We’re at twenty-five strong now.
The Watchdogs have become more of a refugee caravan than an undead killing force, but at least we are still helping people.

July 01, 250
There was a vote last night to send me and my little brother away to the coast where it would be safe. Once there we were to learn life skills and trade skills. The vote was unanimous and so I’m getting packed to move once again.

August 05, 251
This was a surprise. I found my journal in a box I had lost over a year ago. Where should I begin? I started to learn alchemy. There’s another continent that was discovered a year ago I guess. Still no word from father but I’m sure he’s fine.

January 01, 256
It’s been five long years I’m getting pretty good at alchemy. I’m a man now. A lot has changed, for the worse of course. The May’kar is for a lack of a better term, destroyed. We are still blamed and ridiculed for betraying the Vandregon. Shortly after Aldoria closed its borders they were crushed from the inside out. No word if they made it out or not. The Vandregon split its forces to fight on two fronts and we received word a couple years ago that the southern army has fallen. The Watchdogs have linked back up with us at the coast, my father not with them. He fell in battle against the revenant king he sacrificed himself to save the rest. He left me his book on divine magic even though I never was much good at magic. There are only ten of us left. I’ve become far too busy so I’ve cut down my entries to once per year.

April 05, 257
The boats have slowed down I hear the truce has held between the colonists and these wolf people called ulven. As for the undead they are still advancing it’s still uncertain when they will get here.

June 05, 258
This is supposed to be the last boat to leave for the new colony I hope it’s better than what has happened here. If I can I want to devote my life to the work of science and understanding the world. Maybe this will be a fresh start, a new beginning, just like the town’s name: a new hope.

August 14, 262
I’ve set up a lab and I’ve begun work on a few pet projects. The paralysis agent is proving quite promising. Nothing more to report today.

June 12, 263
I over heard some talk about “corruption” up north. Could it be the same? How? Can I stop it before it gets worse? I need to research this; I can’t let this happen again. It’s the least I can do to make up for my peoples sins.

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Page 62

Brodin Fizzlewick

PLAYED BY: Nate Tukiendorf
PLAYER: Facebook: Nathan Tukiendorf
CHARACTER NAME: Brodin Fizzelwick
GENDER: Male
CLASS: Mage
AGE: 43
RACE: Syndar
HAIR: Brown
EYES: Brown
OCCUPATION: Silversmith
KNOWN SKILLS: Knows how to read and write, silversmith.
BIRTHPLACE: Syndar Enclave in May’kar (The Phoenix)
APPEARANCE: 5’7″ average build, clean shaven. Thick dark hair, inquisitive eyes, thick eyebrows, broad nose.
NOTABLE TRAITS: Hard worker, trusting. Lighthearted around friends, a bit gullible.
RELATIONSHIPS: Travels with Marcus Clearbrook.

The sun slowly rose into the sky over New Hope, promising another warm spring day. Brodin Fizzelwick was already in the mists of setting up his small stall at the town square. With spring breaking the cold fist of winter, everyone was happy. Although there was a lot to do, and everyone did what they could to get a jump on the growing season. Food was in short supply, and everyone was feeling the pinch. However, spring promised a new beginning and everyone had a smile on their face despite the constant struggle.

Brodin finished placing his last show piece, when he noticed that a few children were running to and fro in the square. He turned his head to the right and saw another early riser busy setting up her shop, no more than two stalls down from his stand. From what he could deduce, she was seamstress, laying out many new tunics and trousers. She carefully folded every piece of clothing like they were very dear to her. That was a sign of a good craftsman. She herself was very beautiful, with long straight walnut hair, fine angular features, trim, confident and Syndar.
“This one is pretty. Can I have it?” said a voice out of Brodin’s vision.

Turning his head he saw no one, then he looked down and saw a little girl probably around 10 or 11 years of age. She had piercing blue eyes and was dressed in a simple brown tunic and hose with a large cloth hat on her head. She pointed a dirty little finger at a silver turtle broach that had green jeweled eyes. It was one of his most recent pieces and one that he was very proud of, he was hoping he could get a decent amount of coin for it. If anything, it would show his skill and possibly entice someone to ask about commissioning a custom piece.

“You have a very good eye. That is one of my favorite pieces. It took me a long time to make and I was hoping to make a good profit on it. Do you or your parents have a means to buy it?” Brodin said. Not wishing to turn away anyone, despite their age. Plus it was early and the square was still mostly empty, only a few other tradesmen started filing into the square.

“I don’t have much money, sir. Winter was hard, and all of my mother’s money went to buying food and linen.” The little girl said as she cast her eyes down to the cobblestone.

Feeling slightly sorry for the girl… but only slightly. Everyone was struggling and Brodin wasn’t going to get back to his island home without money. “What is your name?” he asked.

“Arie.” She said sheepishly.

Maybe he could get some information from this youth; they see many things are a more willing to give up information, if you dangle the metaphorical carrot in front of their face. “Well Arie, I have a deal for you. I am new to town and am looking to find a few things. If you can help me find these things I will sell the broach to you for a big discount.”

Arie’s eyes widen and then she looked to her left and bit her lower lip. “Ok, but can I ask you a question after you ask me a question?”
Cocking an eyebrow, Brodin realized this youth was both perceptive and inquisitive.

“Agree, I will go first. Would you happen to know when the next ship is to leave?”

Arie furrowed her brow and thought for a moment. “My friend Gregory, whose father told him, that many of the fishermen and captains are afraid to sail, because of a ghost ship in the fog. So I don’t know for sure.”

This news was distressful to Brodin, with every captain afraid to set sail. That means he is going to find very few captains brave enough to go, and if he does find one they are going to charge an exurbanite amount of money.

“Ok my turn!” Arie said as she smiled and jumped up and down eagerly. “Where are you from? Do you have a family? Are you planning on staying in New Hope?”

Brodin was slightly taken aback at the questions. But it couldn’t hurt, the questions seemed innocent enough.

“I was born in the May’kar dominion on Faedrun, which is really far away. My father was a candle maker and my mother was a silversmith. My father was killed by bandits as we left our village to find a ship to leave Faedrun. My mother passed away on the ship to Mardrun. I felt very alone at first, but the Enclave made me feel like I still had a family. I set up my home and shop on the island to the south of Mardrun. As to whether or not I am staying in New Hope, I’m not sure for how long. I am a on a quest for The Phoenix. I am trying to gather supplies and information, and then I guess we will see.” He said as images of his past came flying back, many good, some not so good. The early death of his parents ever fresh in his mind, he misses them so.

Brodin took a deep breath and pushed the painful memories aside and looked back at his youthful customer. Arie smiled and giggled as if Brodin said something silly. Then without another word she ran down the rows of stalls and through a growing number of people. Brodin shrugged it off as a lady in a red dress approached to browse his goods.

The morning and day progressed Brodin was able to sell a few items to a couple passing customers. He also was commissioned by a wealthy merchant to craft an ornate belt loop. The sun started it’s slow crawl into the western horizon, when he decided to close up shop and find his companion Marcus.

“Hello again!” Said a very familiar voice behind him. He turned to see Arie, standing there smiling, holding the hand of the seamstress he noticed earlier. The beautiful seamstress smiled and said “Siala Kay Nu. I hope my daughter here wasn’t bothering you earlier. I’m Myra Silvertongue. What is your name?”

Brodin stood there dumbfounded for a second. This beautiful Syndar lady stood before him and talked like a common human. He guessed that she was half Syndar, like himself. His mother insisted that he learn how to speak like a proper Syndar and retain as much of his Syndar heritage as possible. He however realized that it is essential to learn how to speak with human and Syndar alike. It helps with business. He was also chastising himself for not noticing that Arie was her daughter. Looking at the youth more he noticed that her features are fine like her mothers. But her piercing blue eyes must be her fathers.

“Siala Kay Nu Myra. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Brodin Fizzelwick. Your daughter was not a bother this morning; it was actually pleasant to talk to her.” He said as he slightly bowed.

“That is what she tells me.” She said as she looks down at her daughter fondly briefly before returning his gaze. “She also told me a bunch about you as well. Also that you made a deal for a broach that she was interested in. May I see it?”

Again he was slightly taken aback. She must have sent her daughter to learn what she could about the silversmith. This is the first time that a beautiful woman has taken an interest in him. He admired her forwardness, and she also sounded sincere. “Of course.” Brodin said as the rummaged through his pack to find the jeweled turtle. Finding it, he handed it to her. Myra’s green eyes slightly widened at the beauty of the piece.
“How much are you thinking selling it for?” Myra asked hesitantly.

Feeling bold and he knew that she probably didn’t have the money to pay for such a nice piece. “I was hoping for 5 silver coins, but I will also trade it to you for a new tunic and sharing a meal with me. How does that sound?”

“I would really enjoy tha…” She started saying.

“Brodin! You thin bastard! I have big news! I have a way for us to head out of New Hope tomorrow!” Marcus came running up and stopped as soon as he saw Myra. “Excuse me; I didn’t know you were talking with such a pretty lady.”

Myra put down the broach and looked down. “I didn’t know you were leaving so soon. It was nice meeting you.” She turned and started walking away.

“Wait!” Brodin called after her as he grabbed the broach and hurried around the front of this stall. He caught up with Myra and her daughter a few paces away. “Wait, Myra. Yes, it is true that I have a need to be away. I have a task that I must complete with The Phoenix. Please take this.” He said as he gave her the broach.

“I can’t take it, I don’t have the money.” She said feeling slightly ashamed.

“Please take it, and it comes with a promise that I will be back.” He said sincerely.

She looked in his eyes and saw that he was telling the truth. “I will hold you to that Brodin Fizzelwick.” A handful of heartbeats later, she broke his gaze and reached in her bag. “It still gets cold at night, take this.” She produced a new crimson tunic from her bag.

The tunic felt heavy, but also very soft in his hand. He looked at her eyes again, to see that she had tears in her eyes. “Thank you, I will cherish this gift and remember you every time I wear it.”

“Take care of yourself and come back safe” She said with a smile. Then she turned and walked away, slowly disappearing in the dwindling crowd.
Turning around he strode back to gather his pack in his stall. Marcus leaning against the support of the stall, his eyes alight with excitement. “Alright you son of whore, what has you all a flutter?” Brodin said rather annoyed with his human companion.

“Grab your gear and lets head back to our room, and I will tell you all about it. Let’s just say that I found my calling and I am sure you will approve.” Marcus said with enthusiasm. He then proceeded to talk about all the things they will need for the road. Brodin was only half listening as they walked down the street with the setting sun at their back. He managed a brief glance down the road that Myra and her daughter left. Made a quick prayer to Solar for his protection and continued down the road with his friend toward a new adventure.

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Pan

NAME: Pan
AGE: 20
RACE: Syndar-Feral
GENDER: Female
BIRTHDAY: June 24
RACIAL DISTINCTIONS: Moon Ears, horns of the ram, fangs
FAMILY
Mother: Maragrimm-Seer
Father: Vilmus-Warrior
Siblings: Aragel; Oldest Brother 1
Savira; Oldest Sister 2
Gisella; Older Sister 3
Herself; 4
Myrta; Youngest Sibling 5

We’ve been told of the hordes many a time. How they swept over the land, turning all those it touched into grotesque creatures of rot. Of the chains once binding freed by my ancestor. Oh do they talk so, of all the woes and infuriating desires that they wish us to hold. As my people of the mountain left for the sea, leaving our homes behind. For in the Mountains we came from the soil, and to the soil we had always returned. The birth of our essence came from those rocks that provided so much solace. Maragrimm talked so much.
Crawling over the land towards sea, we boarded the ships with the rest who called these lands home. I hardly remember pulling my small head above the raft to watch the Army of the Fifth walking out to battle again. My small arms could not hold me up long, the sight of them slipped from view as my horns smacked the wooden hull. Weeks passed by, the churning of the ocean made me sick, the water outside looked like a frightful plateau ready to drag me down by my little ankles. I’d never see the light of Solar again if the water had its way with me. We occupied ourselves, stole from the thoughts that we could be going nowhere. After more weeks passed, this fear was looked at as a reality, then the call came down. Land, sweet and real peeked the horizon, as the crimson light wisped away into blue, my favorite time of the day had just passed us by.
Lanterns lit all around us as we set anchor, it seemed celebration would be in order. The humans we were traveling with became more uplifted, yet Vilmus made us go below deck. The shouting continued a long while, I fell asleep to them curled up next to Myrta. Bells, clanging against one another, the bells seemed to be coming from all over, as sleepy eyes opened to the world we never knew. The wood hanging above our heads would finally be taken away, the brighter skies above us loomed like a misty plane. Maragrimm’s mood soured. The closer we came to shore, the more she seemed to be worrying. As the sight grew closer, Vilmus picked us up, one at a time to see better. Like a welcoming sight of the sun in a storm, people waved, some jumped up and down, arms waving to us from the other ships. The excitement seemed to be contagious, as Gisella and Savira danced in circles, even the stern Aragel was laughing with little Myrta.
Settling on this new land took its time, building up homes to sleep in, farms for food, and walls for security. When word reached our ears that others were fighting our new friends upon this land, Maragrimm had us prepare. I now understood why she had worried so, we could destroy our new home even more quickly here. As we settled in, she started to teach us. Gisella and Savira took naturally to Lunara’s healing abilities. As she taught, our magic slowly came out. I took to the arcane like a horse to water. But even the water froze as winter hit us.
One hundred and eighty five is the span she left upon this world. As we wept, the month went on, until the corruption returned. Her drum had ceased its tune, but her body moved, rot filling the air around her. Our curse had followed us, we feared it would take us from this land as well. Unable to turn my head, I watched Vilmus sever hers from her body. The flowered vines that had turned into crown toppled along with her head. Vilmus wept, her body wrapped in his arms, the brown of his armor staining a deep crimson.
The years left us by, Vilmus kept our small village together as we planted the ground anew. The Ulven wished us to burn our people instead of bury. The soil around us often kicked up ash as we walked, the essence of our lives didn’t return like it used to. We moved, our village followed, as winter months racked us til our bones cracked. We dreaded these areas. Our mountain home called us, even from so far away. The next summer brought new life, as Lunas deep light gave us a new hope. Passed on, I received a pendant of Luna, Maragrimm’s old one.
Time flew past us. Aragel grew older and he soon left us, to Myrtas despair. Having her little fist around his horn, she had tried to make him stay, but our older brother left us that night. We haven’t seen him since, yet our ears stayed open for tales of a spiral horned boy living in the wilds. As we convened once again, a decision arose. Vilmus was combining the tribe, our bloodline numbers had dwindled, but our brothers and sisters still existed. The Nomads Of Soon dispersed. Each caravan its own name and path, we spread over the safest parts of Mardrun.
Gisella lead the Caravan of Song.
Savira, the Caravan of Passion.
And little Myrta, the Caravan of Wisps.
We made our goodbyes and set up the rendezvous for summer’s end. Hawks and runners to spread word of the paths and perils ahead divvied up between us all. Only each caravan would know where the other was stopped.
Mine, we vanished into the countryside.

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Marrah Faile – [Renowned]

PLAYED BY: Kelly Pelot

CHARACTER NAME: Marrah Faile. (“ma-RAH fa-YEEL”)

GENDER: Female

CLASS: Rogue

AGE: 28

RACE: Syndar

HAIR: Awesome

EYES: Green

OCCUPATION: Merchant, Madam, Raven

KNOWN SKILLS: Buying, Selling, Trading, Lying, Stealing, Sneaking, Killing, Surviving

In the Year 251, 14 year old Marrah and her parents, one of the rare Syndar pairs who chose to be joined, were sent from the kingdom of Tielorrien to aid in the development of the new colonies. Her father was a skilled herbalist or Bellath-ah-Dien, and her mother a healer or Lethellerion. Marrah herself had only just begun her studies at The Rui-Calithil.
During the voyage to Mardrun a fire broke out on their ship. Though they were in site of land, the pull of the sinking ship made it almost impossible to escape. Marrah could hear her Mother’s cries as her Father desperately tried to reach her, but, despite his skills in casting, there was little to be done. Panicked refugees kept pulling each other under in their own struggles to reach the surface and her mother was soon lost in the chaos. For what seemed like an eternity Marrah floated there listening to her father scream her Mother’s name. Long after the burning ship had disappeared under the water she remained with him as he called for his wife.
In time, a small boat from Mardrun appeared and brought them to their new home. Her Father, once the pinnacle of Syndar stoicism, had to be forcibly removed from the water and held down in the boat to keep him from jumping back into the ocean.
She could feel the change in him almost immediately; it was as if something inside of him were dying. Day by day he grew weaker and weaker as though all of his strength had been tied up to her Mother and without her, it was gone. Other Syndar could sense it too. He stopped casting, stopped working, and stopped caring at all. In no time at all they began to whisper that he was hollowed. The whispers then turned to outright contempt. Her Father had not been hollowed. They all knew it. They had been there when he began to change. But instead of helping her find out how to fix the change, Marrah and her father were expelled from the community. The same worthless, ungrateful community that had cost her Mother her life.
A year of wondering followed at the end of which they found themselves near New Oarsmeet. It wasn’t a nice place but it was free of Syndar looking to run them off, so they stayed. Marrah had grown accustomed to caring for her father. She used what little of the hunting skills she’d learned at The Rui-Calithil to catch food when she could or to steal food or money when she had to. It was getting harder to care for him though. She hated being cast out by the others but she couldn’t deny the day-to-day horror of being with one who was dead on the inside. It wasn’t simply that the essence was gone. It was as if a black hole had opened inside of him and was desperately sucking the essence, warmth, and joy out of everything it came near. There were times her flesh crawled just being near him. She yearned to leave but the moment she resolved to do so the memories of her parents together, full of love and happiness, prevented her from seeing it through.
Then in 253 on the anniversary of her Mother’s death, Marrah’s Father was gone. All he left behind was a barely legible note saying, “She needs me. She’s alone”. Marrah stayed in New Oarsmeet a several more years, in case he returned, working on ships, doing odd jobs, and learning all the things a Syndar of her age should never be learning.
Eventually, stories of a Celestine opposed to traditions and intolerant of classism piqued her interest. If not for the tradition of shunning the hollowed, she would still be living amongst her own kind. Most likely a skilled hunter already. Instead she was in a corrupt and squalid little village doing things that would make her Mother weep in order to survive. Tradition had forced her into the unsavory life she now lived and she could not imagine a world in which one of the most favored of the Gods children would actively renounce his position of Glory.
It was an anomaly too unbelievable to be ignored and, though she still had several months of promised work left to do on her current ship, she felt it was time to seek a new port. The minute the ship docked for the evening, Marrah grabbed the pouch of coins she’d been stealing from the others and a small pack then left New Oarsmeet for good.
Marrah used her silver to purchase and setup a small shop. Regarding every patron as an opportunity to find out more about the strange Celestine. In time her dogged interest, and her unconventional skill set caught the attention of the Ravens and she was eventually invited to join with them. An offer she was more than happy to accept.
Marrah’s main place of business is New Hope but she has recently begun traveling, looking to set up small shops in other towns in order to generate further income and also to provide a safe haven/meeting place for any Ravens in the area. Since joining the Ravens her tiny shop has expanded exponentially and is now a full blown market stop, pub, and brothel.

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Manetho – [Renowned]

PLAYED BY: Catherine Butzen

CHARACTER NAME: Manetho

GENDER: Female

CLASS: Rogue

AGE: Upper 20s

RACE: Feral Syndar

HAIR: Brown, messy braids

EYES: Gray, lined with tribal paint

OCCUPATION: She is a healer by trade, a wanderer who moves from settlement to settlement trading on her skills. A mendicant medic, if you will. She is not a member of any organization.

KNOWN SKILLS: It is difficult for disease to touch her. She is a healer, which brings along with it minor skills such as sewing, bandage-weaving, and mixing medications. She is literate, after a fashion, and she carries a book or two of notes she made. She is a decent illustrator, at least when it comes to medical phenomena. She is not bad with a knife.

BIRTHPLACE: Mardrun, unnamed patch of woods.

APPEARANCE: Mixed Feral/tribal and cold-weather adapted. Manetho’s tribe originally hailed from the outskirts of the May’Kar Dominion, and even on Mardrun still incorporated elements of portions of that culture, such as heavy eye paint (to cut down on the sun’s glare), white or brown linen clothing, or bits of leopard fur. Currently Manetho wears a brown dress slit up the sides to make for easy running, hosen with armored patches, boots, a long-sleeved tunic, a necklace of humanoid teeth, a leather hip protector sewn with the totem image of a lizard, and a few other belts and odds and ends. (She also has a leopard skin that functions as a cloak.—–Pending Herald approval)

NOTABLE TRAITS: Tribal paint, pointed ears, standoffish/blank expression.

RELATIONSHIPS: Manetho’s real relationships are few. She tends to be cordial with current companions, maternal with patients currently under her care, and brusque or sarcastic with patients who aren’t attending to their own aftercare once they’re off her mat. It’s difficult for her to form friendships, though, because not only does she tend to always move on and leave people behind, she was raised in a very different environment from most others and may not catch jokes or understand their tones and expressions. She currently travels with a group of sellswords interested in aiding the coalition, and is friendly with them, but not friends. However, if she finds someone equally interested in learning or healing, she can carry on a conversation for hours.

RUMORS: The rumors, if they reach this far from where they originated, call her Manetho Corpsecutter. Her self-taught medical knowledge comes from two things: 1) extensive practice, and 2) willingness to dissect dead bodies. In places where the dead are burned, this is obviously somewhat taboo. She gets around this by retrieving unclaimed bodies from battlefields and working out in the wilderness where few will see her, but even so, people tend to think it’s abnormal. “Corpsecutter” was originally a derisive name slapped on her by a dissatisfied patient who claimed she was only good at treating the dead, but it’s been hanging around despite her attempts to dodge it. Some people might say she’s a necromancer, or cuts up bodies because she enjoys it, while in fact she does not.

BIO/ BACKGROUND HISTORY:
Manetho was born on Mardrun, but she grew up surrounded by relics of the world that had been lost. Her tribe was made up of nomadic feral Syndar who once roamed the edges of the May’Kar Dominion, holding themselves apart from most of its customs but nevertheless feeling a strong connection to the desert (and a grudging, all-right-they’re-here-too-we-have-to-put-up-with-them tolerance for the humans who also lived there). But it was a tenuous existence to start with. The thirty-five-year period of large-scale war up until the May’Kar betrayal didn’t help.
Her tribe didn’t see the great betrayal coming, but they could see that the end was nigh and knew that they—perpetual outsiders at the best of times, with no protector and no ability to get one—weren’t going to fare well in the finale. It saddened them, but they packed up and left the dry lands, exploiting their small numbers to slip through the enemy lines. There had to be someplace free of the undead plague … Except there wasn’t. After fleeing from country to devastated country, what was left of the tribe eventually took ship for Mardrun with the rest of the refugees.
Making the transition from desert-dwellers to the forests of their new land was difficult. Manetho was born into a tribe whose totem animals she had never seen in real life and whose customary clothes were strange even to the few May’Kar refugees they met. Still, her family was loving enough, and many feral Syndar had always been isolated from the people around them, so being the odd men out was hardly new. The tribe traveled in a broad circuit around the colonized lands, mostly living by foraging and by trading the goods they made, embroidered leatherwork and weavings which fetched decent prices among the people of the Colonies and some of the Ulven. Manetho, quick enough and strong, believed she’d grow up to become one of their roving hunters.
When she was half-grown, the tribe was devastated by sickness. It would later be written down in her books as the White Plague: victims suffered a fever, sweats, swollen glands, and finally virulent white lesions that left thick scarring when (if) they healed. Manetho fell ill with most of the others, but she had a mild case and survived, gaining an immunity to the disease in the process. The healthy couldn’t get near the sick without risking infection, but something had to be done for them, so Manetho was sent into the quarantine tent to clean and care for them. The tribe’s healers would stand outside the tent and shout instructions, leaving Manetho to be their surrogate hands inside. She performed primitive wound cleansings and tissue excisions as well as preparing poultices and trying to calm the fevered patients.
By the time the plague was over, there wasn’t much of a tribe left. The exhausted Syndar looked at their tiny handful of remaining folk and, essentially, called it quits: the gods were trying to tell them that the tribe was finished, and they were going to listen. They split up. Some joined other tribes, struck out on their own, or went to the towns for work.
Manetho had her own plans. Watching everyone die had left her with a deep, haunting fear of plague, and after weeks of nightmares, the last remaining shaman told her she had been chosen by an old spirit animal of theirs—the lizard, the creature of healing, poison, and dreams. Manetho adopted the lizard as her totem and chose a new path for herself. She was going to go out into the world and learn as much as she could about healing, and if she was lucky, she could help other colonists survive the way her tribe couldn’t.
Plague was her initial focus, but the rising conflicts between the various factions led her to gravitate towards battlefields. Combat medics were always needed and, more importantly, there were ample opportunities to learn what the body could and couldn’t survive. For over ten years Manetho drifted, lending her growing skills where she could and filling books of notes with her observations on anatomy, disease, wounds, medicines, and medical theory. Battlefields were also the best places to find the dead she needed to practice on.
Ultimately, Manetho became a skilled healer with somewhat odd mannerisms, a good bedside manner, a motley collection of tools and practices, and a driving need above all to learn.
She’s also isolated from most people, even other feral Syndar. Her tribe’s nostalgia for the old country has made her somewhat derisive on the subject, and losing them relatively young means she wasn’t fully taught what many other Syndar know.

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O’Frik

Player name: Brian Maas

My name is O’Frik of the Phoenix Enclave from the Fire Isle. I am a trader by profession, born 120 years ago in the year 144 in the May’Kar desert.

Traveling and trading with the May’Kar was exciting and profitable; life was good. But then we had to leave. Our Magis Yara had a vision from Solar that required us to pack up everything and move to a distant land. My life became overcome by guilt, remorse, and shame. Guilt because I didn’t want to go; Remorse for my friends and family who didn’t leave; and Shame for leaving so many behind.

The journey became a struggle for all of us who left. We lost much of our wealth on the journey from thieves, raiders and the many bribes it took to cross overland to the great sea. No ship would believe in our quest for a new world and it took almost every coin we had left to hire 1 captain, the 2 ships needed for our people, and what we thought would be enough provisions for the voyage and starting over. The humans took every advantage to free our pockets of coin. They marked up everything they sold to us by 3 times.

As the voyage started, we were coinless, demoralized, and discouraged. We began the sea voyage by being split up onto the 2 ships.

The voyage was nothing like us desert dwellers had ever experienced. Cramped quarters; bad food; not enough food or fresh greens; all because the humans had taken advantage of us to line their pockets. I have no love for the humans. So ready to rob, steal or over price-their goods to get rich off the many other races. I am bitter against them. Many of my friends sickened and died on that voyage. Worst of all, we lost the 2nd ship.

We finally found land and our lives became better. Slowly. We were wanderers and traders before-now we have become farmers and hunters. While we usually have a natural talent for magic, it was not much help starting our settlement at first. Then we found out we were not on a huge mass of land but on an island. Totally isolated. It was lush and green from the warmer waters around it, but I missed trading with others. The traveling. The excitement. Then 4 years ago we found out there was land to the North. Contact was made with humans at the settlement of Crows Landing and some trading began. We now have a caravan and life is getting better for all.

As it turned out, we were right to follow our religious leader. We left before the undead took over. Now everyone from the old mainland of Faedrun have become exiles or a part of the undead horde that took over there. The new land mass to the north is called Mardrun. Hope is ahead of us and we will continue on to become a prosperous people once again. The Phoenix is all that matters.

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Azureal TalonFlame [Renowned]

PLAYED BY: Lex Hokata
CHARACTER NAME: Azureal Anubias TalonFlame
GENDER: Male
CLASS: Mage
AGE: 125 (Born 140)
RACE: Feral Syndar
HAIR: Dark brown
EYES: Dark Brown
OCCUPATION: Shaman of the Wolfgang Commune, Merchant of Adventuring Items, Captain of the Alana,
KNOWN SKILLS:Knows random things, Can perform rituals, Can create Mechanical objects, Can fix some mechanical objects
BIRTHPLACE: The far outskirts of The Kingdom of Fawyth.
APPEARANCE: Dark skinned Syndar no marks on body, fangs,
RELATIONSHIPS: Alexander Vallen (baby Brother), Leliana Wolfgang (Mother, Age:??), Naxala (Pirate Navigator Age:80), Nicolas Bolai (Rival and Friend)
Quirks: Sometimes Short-tempered, limps a little due to old age, Hates feeling oppressed, Has violent streaks.

After my eleventh birthday, my mother left me to go adventure the world around her. She was never given this opportunity as she had studied other areas of magic. She was also unfit to be Shaman as she had a reputation of being power hungry.
The current Shaman saw potential in me. He was also my godfather and he took care of me when my mother could not. He knew my mother was a powerful spellcaster so there should have been no reason I couldn’t access the magical arts. He quickly enrolled me in Shaman training and in his spare time he taught me a few things personally.

In my training, I was picked on by most of my classmates. I had not yet unlocked the potential to physically utilize magic. While everyone was slinging spells or talking with spirits, I was in the corner fumbling with the limited mana I could store. As I eventually got stronger at manifesting magic, however, I realized everyone else had surpassed me. One of the other students, Nicolas, came to me and wanted to help me.

Nicolas and I became best friends over time but I still wasn’t strong enough to fully manifest my magic. Nicolas actually became more of a bodyguard for me as he defended me when someone wanted to bully me. He was nice but I was arrogant and didn’t need his help so I trained with a sword to better protect myself.

I met a Feral Syndar female who introduced herself as Alana, and we hit it off nicely. We really bonded over the fact that because the Feral Syndar are first born, we should be at the top of the hierarchy. It was around this time my group had completed our basic magical training and learned all we could about being a Shaman: I was picked as one of the leaders in training, as was Nicolas. There were ten of us and each one had the potential to be the next Shaman of Wolfgang. I knew how to pursue it. Right after graduation I married Alana and had a child with her and named the baby girl Naxala.

We were then sent off to learn about the world around us for a number of years. The Shaman somehow managed to secure an education for me within the kingdom of Fawyth for a while so I was without my wife for and daughter for a number of years. My wife wrote to me often to tell me the details of what was going on in the commune.

My wife’s letters started to show up less often so I was getting worried. I was learning a great deal in Fawyth building small mechanics and timepieces and selling them. I wasn’t as good as my mentor (he had taken a shine to me as I was interested in combining magic and machine). I was still worried about my wife and daughter. So I wrote often to make sure they were well.

A few years later, I had gotten a terrifying letter from my daughter stating that I need to come back as soon as possible as the current Shaman was dying and they will be holding some sort of trial for whom will be the next Shaman. I had learned a lot in Fawyth and I believe that an election would be better for this purpose. All the Shamans that were sent out got the same letter later that year but I got mine first thanks to my daughter being close with the current Shaman.

I arrived into the commune later that year so I could mingle with the people. I was feeding them the idea that I would be the best candidate and I gave each person a small mechanical trinket. They were all amused by the item. I visited the Shaman and he did look unwell. He looked sickly and I wasn’t sure what caused it. I then visited my wife and daughter and they were happy that I was back. I gave them a cool gift as well. Later in the year, the other Shamans in training came, some looked tired; others looked pretty happy. Nicolas, however, looked terrifying: he got bigger and more intimidating.

The current Shaman finally died a year later and thanks to my involvement, he had told us to host an election instead of a ritual trial to see who would become Shaman. Some of the candidates disagreed with this but didn’t argue with the decision. Nicolas did not like this at all, so he cursed under his breath and walked away.

I had left the commune for a while to think of a speech. I also went to Fawyth to go purchase some blueprints for a ship and a few books about sailing so I can teach the commune what I know. I had taken Naxala with me on this endeavor so I can show her how beautiful Fawyth was. She enjoyed our trip and she actually took an interest to sailing.

We came back from our trip to realize that 2 members of the election were murdered. The commune was in a panic and some of the other candidates tried to calm the people down. I would’ve tried, too, but Naxala and Alana urged me to stay home. I did as I was told as I was the weakest of the candidates and I did not have an itching to die. I began building a small hut to house myself for protection.

A few months later the 3 candidates that tried to help diffuse the situation earlier also died. There were only 5 of us left now so I had sent out a letter to a friend in Fawyth to help me out. I had also written a few letters to some of my master craftsmen friends to start working on a ship. I moved myself to my small hut that I built Nobody knew this existed except for me and Naxala. My contact in Fawyth knows as well, now.

A month went by and my contact showed up to not only protect me but to rally the people on my side. I had received a letter telling me that I needed to to run away from this commune and start a new tribe. I did contemplate this as I had a ship that I was working on and I could take refuge in Fawyth if I needed. Sadly, I stayed because I wanted to play the hero and I believed I could handle this threat. I also assumed that NIcolas would take care of this as well.

A month later, the other 3 candidates had been murdered. However, the killer had been sloppy and revealed that he was the killer. The killer was Nicolas and he had demanded loyalty from the commune or they would suffer the same fate. He then began to torch my house with Alana still inside. He pulled her out and tied her up. He began to scream my name and I wouldn’t budge as I didn’t know this was happening until there was a search for me and someone stumbled upon my hut. He told me what was going on and I rushed to the scene. Nicolas threatened me that I have until next year to leave or my wife will die. He took her captive and left. Some members of the commune began to run away. Others stayed as they saw my guard was strong and bulky and had a big sword. It looked like some members believed in me because of my mom. The few that were left all looked to me for guidance. I recited the speech I had written talking about change and sailing the seas. I also talked about loyalty and building a home for us all. I talked about the threat at hand and that I would personally deal with this. I tried to look confident so the commune was at ease but really I was very nervous. I can’t fight Nicolas. He’s much too strong now.

A few months later, Nicolas reemerged with my wife and he saw that some members of the commune were still left and they were all on my side. “So you didn’t leave?” He said. “Alana will suffer”. As he was about to strike her down Naxala came from behind him and hit him in the head. It didn’t do much; he grabbed Naxala’s throat and slammed her to the ground. The distraction bought my friend enough time to rush in and disarm Nicolas as Alana managed to run away. However, that wasn’t enough so Nicolas used his magic to toss both my friend and Naxala away and he proceed to produce a devastating black magic ball and launched it at me. Alana quickly rushed in and stepped in front of the blast hugging me.

She was dying in my arms and the commune was in shock. “Looks like I missed” he chuckled. I had enough. In my anger I attacked him, my contact joining me in the fray as the other villagers stood back and watched the fight unfold. Nicolas slung a few spells at my contact, and I was prepared to fight alone. To both of our surprise, however, the spells simply dispersed around a shimmering blue aura I hadn’t noticed before, protecting my friend from harm. We closed with Nicolas, but my old rical had a few tricks up his sleeve, throwing us both back with his spells before conjuring yet another black orb. This one found its way into my contact’s torso, and with no more magical protection, he collapsed. Nicolas was nearly spent now, and I seized my chance to close with him, relying on my skill with a blade to win out. Blow after blow struck him until he finally fell at my feet. I turned to smile at Naxala when I saw the color drain from her face. I heard the crackling of arcane energy behind me a moment too late. As I turned, I saw Nicolas rise one final time, a last ditch effort to win manifested in the form of another death bolt in his hand. I tried to dodge, but his aim was true: My shoulder took the bolt as we both collapsed. To my fortune, Naxala was there to stop my bleeding as she began to tend to my most grievous wound. I had survived the day, if only just, though Nicolas had succumbed to his wounds.

I was the last remaining candidate to be the Shaman, so despite the brutal means of attaining the rank, there I was. I had told my tribe that I was building a ship and that we need to start anew somewhere else at sea. My tribe was wary about me being Shaman but since I had a means to get silver they followed me to Fawyth. To be honest I didn’t feel that I even qualify to be an actual Shaman but according to the Shaman code it doesn’t matter how many people are in my tribe to qualify as an official Shaman. So I took my small tribe of 30 people to the coast near Fawyth where my ship was being built. I had then written a few letters to some of my sailing buddies and asked if they wanted to command my ship.

A few years later, I got word that my ship was finished to my exact specifications in my blueprints and my tribe and I traveled to the coast to examine it. It was massive. I named the ship Alana after my wife and we began to set sail. Some of my tribe stayed behind in Fawyth to study and some of my tribe stayed with the ship builders. I had hired some crew to sail my ship and teach my tribe how to sail. My tribe was quite small now: about 15 of us were left and we set sail to a new land.

Over the years, we took turns throughout buying and selling wares. We also learned a thing or two about sailing and being on a boat. A few humans offered to come aboard and help. We let them on as the more hands the better.

We stopped at a different port town infested with both humans and serous Syndar. We again bought and sold what we could. We even learned more things. Naxala met a funny human male out here. She didn’t like him though. Because this town had some Syndar and we knew they were magical, we decided to finally practice some rituals and offer our services in the magical arts.

Some years later, we set port at yet another town and the crew partied hard. Year 200 was a momentous occasion: it was the turn of the century, at least for the humans. It was fun nonetheless. A few of my tribesmen made the mistake of impregnating a few human females. I was told that I should get out and have fun but I was still brooding over my wife and my old friends.Soon we got out of that town. We did make a killing in silver though; I’ve never seen so much. I was then told by the old captain that I was ready to sail on my own and that in the next town he was going to buy his own ship. He gave me his tricorn and told me to have a speech prepared for his crew.

I presented my speech to the ship’s crew and told them what was going on. A few followed the old Captain while some stayed aboard. I stayed in contact with the old Captain though hawk letting him know of my endeavors.

We finally set port near the kingdom of Vandregon only to find the most horrific sight. Undead, and hordes of them. Quickly we raised the anchor and kept going to warn the nearby villages. We knew of the undead, but seeing them was truly terrifying. I didn’t even believe they existed, until now. We picked up as many people as possible along the way and we became more of a transport ship at this point.

I stopped at every port selling my wares for cheap. Some of my men decided to help out with the war. The deeper I got into human territory the more people didn’t believe that I was a captain. I kept selling wares and porting people across Faedrun.

As we were recruiting for the ship. I was asked to personally join the war. I declined as I would be useless. The best thing I could do was transport people and buy and sell goods.

We nearly sold all of our wares and some of my crew who had sustained wounds in the war began dying due to their infections and injuries. The best thing I could do was have my clerics cleanse the body but that wasn’t enough as too many people were afflicted. I stopped taking wounded men on board as it would be pointless.

After a few years of being a transport and merchant ship, we began to have a rather large crew and a boat filled with people so I sailed away from Faedrun once I got word of Mardrun. I was one of the first boats to arrive and I became a shuttle service for the survivors.

Repairs became costly for my ship and I was running out of funds to feed my crew. So I dropped off a few of my advisers to establish a foothold in Mardrun so we wouldn’t just be known as a transport service. I knew my ship wouldn’t last long on these waters.

My ship was on its last voyage to Mardrun when it started sinking as we were getting closer to Mardrun. My ship washed up on the coast and broke down, little more than a pile of debris by the time it tasted the shore. I got every person off and I began to send out dinghies that I had in storage. I then hopped in my own dinghy and sailed to the continent. I began working as an adviser for awhile thanks to my knowledge of how politics worked. I reunited with my tribe and we began work making some mechanical crafts and selling them. I was still working as a politician until word got out that I was a Feral Syndar and I was dismissed. I’m not sure how they found out as I was making sure to conceal any signs of my heritage.

Over the years, we continued to sell merchandise and help with the coalition as much as possible. I began making stuff for free as I wanted to be in good favor with the survivors and the Ulven. I made no silver but my tribe continued to create for silver. I was a politician after all and I was also trying to establish a new tribe of Feral Syndar and Feral Syndar sympathizers. I have to look good to recruit more people.

Some years later, my tribe began to be separated as we were out helping in different areas. So me and Naxala began working some odd jobs to make ends meet. While working, I caught the eye of a fellow Feral Syndar named Alexander Vallen: he worked in the guard and we had a nice conversation about the homeland. I had no idea he was my brother until he talked about mom. I was really young then but I still remember her features and it sounded just like her. I began to ask him about her origins and he told me that she was from Fawyth and she was part of the Wolfgang tribe. This kid was definitely my brother as no one here knows about the Wolfgang tribe but my tribe. So I told him my story one night and it was a joyous moment. I also told him my plans and would love for him to join once my settlement was established.

I knew the path that lay ahead of me, but the cost of living in Newhope seemed to get in the way at every turn. Before long, our funds had run out almost completely, and I could no longer afford to feed or shelter anyone but myself and Naxala. I spoke to those who had remained with me this far, telling them to go out into the world, to make their own way, because I could not help them now. Some were reluctant, but my insistence was enough to drive them away. One day I’ll find them again, when I can afford to help them live the lives they deserve.

I had done some research and found a few mage guilds in the area. I figured this would be the best place to hold up for awhile and stop scraping from the bottom of the barrel. I had started to go check out the Spire as I would rather stay with young humans than condescending Syndar. At least I can infest their minds about which of the Syndar is truly the master race.

We traversed to the Spire which opened its doors to us for the time being, a courtesy provided by Alexander Vallen as he was a valuable member of the Archons. I dared not question as the reasonings as to why he chose the Spire when he had a cushy job being a guard but I know he made a better choice here. He had a lot of untapped power and I wanted to teach him but I also had untapped power myself. I did teach him a thing or two about rituals.

I spent my time at the Spire researching magic and teaching young minds about my race. I had been finally called upon to help the Archons as I heard troubling news that Alexander was going to help with New Aldoria and he left me his silver to go pursue it. He told me that I should re emerge and tell people that I am a Shaman. I suppose it is finally time to show my face to the world and help once again.

“The Retirement of The Great Azureal Talonflame”

The following events are told in present.

A council meeting was held at Darkport to talk about Azureal Talonflame’s talk amongst the town. It was decided that he would become Thane of Darkport. Except he was not there. No one could find him. He was to be there to accept the position of Thane. He had done so much work for the community. Why did he not show?

Naxala, Talonflame’s daughter, went to search for him. She arrived at his home and found an off-putting sight. She found his famed, weavers mat, sprawled out and trimmed. Pieces were used to wrap the axe that he brandished. Other bits adorned his newly acquired helm, laced amongst the horns. The main circle had been reformed and cut to form a circle and placed on the center of the floor. In the center of the circle, lie his journal, and on that a note.

“If you are reading this, I am already gone. Dead? No. But moved on. Below are things I want to say to each of you.

Darkport– I know I have done this town a great service. This a service I had hoped to see blossom. Alas, I am off to greener pastures. I would like you all to continue to thrive and remember my practices and teachings. Become a town worthy of visitation. Become an example of how all peoples of varied origin can come together as one. Accept others with open arms, do not judge. You will flourish, as a town and as a people. I hope to see how far you have come when I return.

Nathaniel– You are my most trusted adviser. You have been with me since the beginning. I’m sure my disappearance does not come as a shock. In my previous absences, you have gone above and beyond with the care for not only the town of Darkport, but also the people of the Wolfgang tribe. You kept our spirits up when they were down. You stepped in on the fateful time I took in corruption. You served our p0eople well. With that I am sure you know what role you must play next.

Naxala– My precious little girl. Naxala, you are the very spitting image of your mother. I love you more than you could know. You are still young yet, but you have proven to be one of the most powerful Divine casters and healers of all of us. Alana, your mother, would be proud.

Volrok– It has been a pleasure to not only become your friend over the years, but also become an ally. I am proud, no, overjoyed by what you have done for your people and the Broken Blade. In time, I do wish for you and yours to continue to grow strong.

Zeke– What more can I say about you than what you already know? You are a fantastic friend and amazing ally. We have done many things together over the years and for that I am grateful. I am proud of what you have become. May your endeavors and song live everlasting.

Tobias– I knew you from way before. Back when you and Vazra were allies no? It has been a very long time. Your contributions not only to me but also the Rangers has been astounding. Continue your path. May the world be your oyster.

Manetho– I will miss you most of all. You have kept me alive for quite some time. You have mended my wounds more than once and continue to amaze me. Continue your studies, and maybe one day you will bring our race glory.

Marrah– I’m sorry I never partook on your services. With the number of children I have, you’d think I would’ve partaken to be one of your co-workers? Sadly, the chances are high I’d find my children amongst the patrons. Some are a chip off the ol’ block. Look out for them, ok?

Elzerith– We may not have known each other long, but I feel as if we formed a kinship. I thank you for the support you have done for Darkport and myself in our times of need. Continue your path of light and may it shine in any darkness.

To my “hobo” Brethren– You are hobos no more. Darkport will offer you a place to stay and relax. I guarantee muffins will be aplenty.

Reyna– I knew you from way before. I have not heard from you in quite some time. I hope things are well. I will miss you greatly.

Iris– It has been a very long while since we last met. How has things been? I hope your archery has improved over the years. I still remember the time we had the first corruption cleansing. I will always remember that day. Continue to grow.

I know I have missed many names but that doesn’t mean you don’t matter. I will always cherish the memories we had.

To my children I have met- I love you all with everything. See if you can find each other? I think it would be great. I will miss all of you.

With my Greatest Love,

Thane Azureal Talonflame”

With that a second note was found, written in the oldest Syndar manuscript.

“Nathaniel- If you are wondering where I have gone. I am traveling north. There is a powerful tribe of Syndar that have powerful magics. They are immune to the pull from the devastating Death Bolt, and they do not have a placed aura to protect them. I wish to learn from them when I can and possibly spend some time there doing “you know what”. You know me, always experimenting. “

There are also random bits of texts and studies spewed about the home. Some are drawings of the Salt beasts; others are scrawling of the northern Syndar. Encapsulating their beauty.

Naxala shares out the texts and notes she found and speaks to Nathaniel, in private.

“It’s time, whether he likes it or not. He MUST be ready. We must release, The Prodigy!”