Name: Artemis, The Artificer “Art”

Played By: Alex Robinson

Age: Unknown

Race: Half-Syndar

Class: Mage

Birthplace: Vandregon

Relations: Naxala, Nataniel


My name is Artemis.  I am not my father.

My story begins as any other.  Born amid the Undead war and somehow survived.  Living amongst the brink of war.  My story is nothing special or at least it should not have been.

My mother would often regal me of the story of my birth father.  In her words,

“Your father was kind man.  A Syndar.  He had sharp teeth and quite long ears.  He was dark skinned, and he walked with just the most impressive swagger.  Confidence.  Poise.  A charmer for sure.  One day, after a successful sail about the sea, he and his friends came in for a drink.  Boy could your father pack them down.  As I was watching him, I was accosted by some random drunkards wanting my services.  They were grungy and had no class.  But work is work.  These men were quite rough with me and id charge extra for that, but I did not care for these men at all.  But then, your father stepped up, dashing man, beautiful beard.  He shoved the men out of the way as they were hurting me.  They fought but your father bested them even in his drunken state.  He then offered me a drink with him and paid for the time.  He didn’t even want pleasures of the flesh just my company and conversation.  What a fine man.”

As you see, my father was a charmer.  As my grandfather states, over time of his stay, they would hang out together quite often. Chatting about life and being plain good company.  From what I heard; he was the only one that gave my mother a rocking good time.  I didn’t know what that meant until I was in my teens.

I am here on Mardrun as I am a prodigy.  I have taken a keen understanding to all things magic and have a high magical aptitude.  I was to surpass my father and take on his role.  I do not want this position.  His daughter, Naxala, states otherwise.  It was because of her, I should be grateful to her, I am alive.  She felt a dream, a dream of a boy who would one day overtake Talonflame and surpass him.  He would have extreme mastery and Practicality of Magic.  All Magic.  Her dream saw my face and she has been tracking me down.  With the help of her father’s adviser Nathaniel.

After a time, I was born, and left in the care of my grandfather.  Mother wanted me to be comfortable, and she didn’t want me taken away either.  A baby born with magical knack would be sought after by not only my father and the state but also by the Penitent.  I had a very strong magical aptitude.  Think of me as a diamond in the rough or jack of all trades.  I was being sought after on three fronts.  One, The Penitant, rumors circled that they were recruiting in the area and if they knew of my magical knack they may try to capture and train me in the ways of either necromancy or blood magic, my aptitude could have done both.  Two, The State, as the battles on Faedrun battered our lines there was concern that they would’ve grabbed me a trained me as an Arcane Front-line warrior, a Battle Magus.  Three, my father, he would want me for my extreme skill and dashing good looks.  She didn’t want me to get in the wrong hands, so off to my grandfather I went.    A lot of my time was spent reading and learning stories.  A chunk of time was spent in my grandfather’s forge.  Mostly fetching water and coals.  He has the task of helping arm Vandragon with steel.

In my studies, I had a bully, like many other book-learned of my time.  Except this bully, took things too far.  I was teen when things went off.  I was working diligently on a new project; I was trying to boil water without the use of raw fire or coal.  Trying to create a chemical fire much like oil.  Liquid fire if you will.  But then my bully knocked all my chemicals off my table.  Spat in my face and called me a worm.  But what put him over the edge, was today, he wanted to talk about half breed heritage.  He even called my father names.  Talked il about my mother too, saying I’m a son of a Bitch.  True but uncalled for.  That sent me over the edge.  Blood was rushing to my ears so I could not hear what he was saying.  That’s when I blacked out.  Witness accounts stated I ran at him with the force of a tiger and punched his face in.  That’s not all though.  I also used magics from my hands to launch him in the air and his body landed with a sickening crack.  A rudimentary push spell but you get the idea.  He was disfigured and very dead.  I was out for like a week after.  Its stated, that during that time, a secondary female bully took over and, had her way with me.  Taking advantage of my already bloodlust state.  I had hoped id find her before I left, show her a piece of my mind.

Either way, from then on, I was home schooled.  All my books were ordered, and I never left the house.  Though word already got out of my magical talents.  Grandpa would get visitors and scholars wanting to take and teach me, hone my skills.  Grandpa would have none of it and shoed them away.  Then he met a Syndar man.  He just was chatting about, blacksmithing.  But he was keeping an eye on me as well.  Then he left.  No mess, no nothing.  Just chatter.

Over time I got older and was allowed out very briefly to wander.  But my wandering days did not last long.  It was at this time my village was being attacked.  By undead no less, and a scream. The most terrifying scream I have ever heard.  A scream that still haunts me till this day.  The scream, of a Banshee. It was coming for me.  To make me one of her thralls.  That’s when that man from before came back and snatched me away from my village.  No fuss, no mess.  Maybe even an ice bolt of two.  As I dethawed I watched as my village was torn to pieces only thing left, was the fire from my grandfather’s forge still burning.

It was then, I was locked away yet again like a fairytale princess.  Forced to read and read and read.  Training in a small locked away part of a ship.  Hidden like a sack potatoes.  Once I was on land, I was not allowed to leave.  I read and I trained.  Over time, I was taken to what I guess is a small town.  I was to not run, only study.  Or else I get the ice bolt.  Thanks to my captivity, my intelligence may have grown but my mannerisms not so much.  Time felt like an illusion.

Naxala, was trained in Divine magics, Nathaniel in Arcane.  Together they trained me on fundamentals.  I read this, Vazra’s, old worksheets.  I was taught the ways of Khruki, Lord of Darkness.  Over an over again.  Not sure how long has passed since.  Don’t really care.  It was only recently that I was gained any amount of freedom.  Albeit due to the disappearance my father Talonflame.  People always told me he loved to chase tails.  In that time, I have unlocked the mysteries of wielding both Divine and Arcane power.  Not an easy feat mind you.  Also, in my father’s footsteps, I have unlocked the potential to understand the mysteries of the weave.  Again, I am not my father.

“I am something far stronger.”

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