Wiki Category: Syndar Characters - Active

Saffiyah Glaedwine was born in Tielorrian in the year 246 to Gairell and Tayleth Glaedwine. They were both scholars, following the moon goddess Lunara. Saffiyah had deep green eyes, pointed ears, and blonde hair with a glow of red to it. At the tender age of four, Saffiyah and her parents fled from the falling kingdom they called home to go to the new land, known as Mardrun. Unfortunately, being so young at the time, Saffiyah has precious few memories of her birth place, and not nearly as strong a connection with their culture as Gairell and Tayleth would have liked.
From a young age they taught her the importance of the mana stream, their life force, and they attempted to educate their daughter in their ways so that she may also be a scholar. After their homeland was overrun with the undead, they clung onto their daughter tighter than most parents might have. It was their full intention to raise her to work with them in a laboratory and study in a library and be safe. As Saffiyah grew up, it became clear to her father that this was not a life she would accept, but her mother would not have it.
At 22, still quite young for a syndar, Saffiyah requested that she be allowed to travel North and explore their new world, as she had not been allowed to see any of it yet and only had stories and her own imagination. She pleaded with her parents to let her, telling them that she believed the answer to their race’s struggles with the mana stream would be found somewhere in the new land. She had heard stories of the creatures in the Dirge Swamp and wanted to see them herself. While Saffiyah told her parents that she wanted to adventure to research, she knew this was only an excuse to escape. The life her parents had planned for her was nothing like the life she wanted for herself. Their denial of her wish hit her hard. And considering she had no money of her own, she knew if this kept up she would always be reliant on her parents. So she devised a plan.
For as long as she spent thinking about what she would do, she was still young, and had not much worldly experience… so her plan did not quite go as she had hoped.

Saffiyah stole a few pieces of jewelry from her family and sold them for silver pieces. This gave her what she thought would be enough to take her safely to the Northern lands where she could escape the colonies and roam freely and adventure. She packed a few items, clothing and a book which she kept her thoughts. She then gathered a party of humans and offered them coin to make sure she could travel safely, and left a note for her parents. This would apologize and explain her reasons. One of her biggest regrets in life is that she was unable to have a proper goodbye with them.
For the first couple days, her party headed up toward the Dirge completely unmet by other travelers. It was days before she saw her first Mordok. The creature was ugly to behold, and it put her on edge to finally see one in person. She had not expected to be so nervous as she knew its intelligence would be far less than her own. Nevertheless she thought of the stories she’d heard about them and hung back while her men advanced on it. The creature was… timid. It backed away from the men coming to it, but they struck it down quickly and the whole group kept traveling.
In the following days they were met with scattered mordok here and there. It was clear to Saffiyah that the further North they traveled, the less meek these creatures seemed to be, yet they had not struggled too greatly to slay them and carry on. After weeks of travel, they ran into a larger group of Mordok than they had seen yet, only having faced 2 or 3 at a time at the most so far. Now with even numbers on both sides, the Mordok were more vicious and ruthless than she had seen them be before.
Even as her men landed great blows, the creatures kept coming at them until her party was in danger. It was as if the Mordok had a goal- not to kill, but to see how much damage they could do to them. Just as Saffiyah thought this might spell the end for her and her adventure, they were aided by a storm of arrows and swords. It was a pack of Ulven, sweeping through to clear the Mordok in the area. She offered them money as gratitude for their rescue, but the ulven would not take it. “We do not need payment for something our morals dictate we do,” one of them told her. They guided her wounded party to a tavern to rest, and parted ways.
Saffiyah paid for food, drink, healing, and rooms so that her and her men would have a chance to recuperate. All this, while necessary, was also quite costly. Depressed, she sat in a corner of the tavern with a drink, scribbling in her book and trying to devise another plan, one that would make her the money she needed to continue on. She was starting to lose hope, so she began writing down some of the songs she heard people singing instead to get her mind off of her troubles, even for just a little while.
“Whatcha got there?” she heard a gruff voice calling.
Saffiyah looked over see a human man swaggering over to her. His clothing was of fine, rich colored velvet, and he wore many large jewels on his fingers and around his neck. This was a wealthy man.
“Just doing a little writing” Saffiyah replied, carefully closing her book.
He came quite close to her.
“I have no interest for stories,” he started, “but I am interested in what I’m seeing”
The man looked her over, spending more time looking at certain areas of her body. He offered her a little purse of coins to stay the night with him in his room and “have some fun”.
This was not the first time Saffiyah had been asked this in her travels. Between the different taverns they stopped at to rest, she had probably heard this question four or five times now. So it became reflex to say no.
The man chuckled and pulled out another small purse full of coins, claiming he would double his original offer.
Saffiyah blinked. Am I actually considering this? She thought to herself. Entertaining the idea, she realized that it was going to be the best, and possibly only way to earn the money needed to complete her journey. She put on a false smile and accepted the man’s offer.
In the morning, she collected the promised silver, pocketed it, and went on her way, a slight smile on her face. The thing she found most surprising about the experience was that she did not hate it. She had accomplished something. It was easy and not unpleasant. She gathered her men, who had clearly also had…. restful nights… and with newfound confidence and invigoration they continued on.
They went quite far North before being stopped in the road by a large group of men who introduced themselves as merchants. They were called in to look at their wares, and before they knew it, they were surrounded by more men than they had spotted originally. These were no merchants… they were bandits.
Alarmingly outnumbered, Saffiyah’s men were taken down easily, slain before her very eyes. She cried out as she was grabbed from behind by one of them, who was pinning her arms down so she could not move, and could not cast.
“What should we do with this one?” The bandit called out to an apparent leader. He was a large man, wearing the best armor of any of them. He looked down at Saffiyah from atop his horse and size her up.
“We will take her to be sold on the black market,” he exclaimed.
The following days were a torturous existence for Saffiyah. These men were rough with her, and she was not well fed or watered. They bound her tightly at the wrists with ropes and took turns being the one in charge of holding it. They made her walk behind the caravan for long stretches, and if she couldn’t keep up, it was common for someone to yank on her lead, making her lurch forward and fall. Between the bruises on her knees from hitting the ground hard, and the red, raw skin on her wrists, she was unsure which hurt more.
It could have been days or weeks, she could not keep track. But eventually the leader called out to them that they were to part ways and sell their wares at different locations so it would be harder to track them down. Saffiyah was sent with four men to be sold into slavery. After a days travel, they exclaimed that they must be getting close. There were small streams of smoke in the distant sky that they could see above the tree-line. This would likely be people cooking or a blacksmith working. Signs of a gathering of people.
Saffiyah’s stomach lurched and she feared that whatever fate held for her, it could be worse than what she had already endured. But she was incredibly lucky. To her relief they were met on the road by another Ulven. Yet as they got closer she saw he somehow didn’t seem as friendly as those she had been rescued by, his face was stern and his demeanor was frightening. She rethought her original sense of relief and realized that this could be who she was being sold to.
The ulven interrogated the men who kept her, and upon deciding that they were bandits, he drew his weapon and attacked them. The lunk who had been holding her rope dropped it to draw his own sword and she saw her chance. Knowing that four-on-one were not good odds for the Ulven, she ran as fast as she could, trying to get away before they could slay him and grab her again. She raced toward the smoke, thinking that she might be safe if only she could reach the town as a free woman.
Her entire body ached, having been so worn down from her lack of food and water, she found it harder and harder to make herself run. Saffiyah’s legs felt like lead. She stopped, leaning against a tree to catch her breath. There were gentle rustles in a nearby bush, she ignored them, whatever animal was there would not concern her now. She used her teeth to untie her bindings, rubbing gingerly at the tender skin on her wrists. Her head was spinning. She closed her eyes and tried to ground herself. When she opened them again, she saw a Mordok approaching her, weapon held high. She gasped and quickly channeled mana and sent it flying a few feet back with a surge of energy. Turning back toward where she had come from, she saw the Ulven, charging up the road, looking enraged. She ducked out of his way and looked, just in time to see that the Mordok had already advanced on her again. He took it down with a few heavy blows and she stood there, paralyzed with shock.
When the creature lay dead, he fixed his gaze on Saffiyah, between the blood splattered on his face and the fierce look upon it, her heart skipped a beat. She secured her footing and just as she was about to push off running, the Ulven grabbed her by the wrist, hard.
“Stop running off on your own! You are going to get yourself killed!” he growled.
She drew back in fear and winced from the pain she felt surging from where he held her.
The look on Saffiyah’s face must have been obvious fear, for the Ulven softened his own expression, and his tone. He released his grip on her wrist, but held her at the shoulder to make sure she was steady. She looked him over, noticing by the way he held himself that some of the blood on him was definitely his own.
“I am Toralf Grimmsvulker,” he said, “and I belong to a group whose main duty is ridding the world of the bandit threat. The Wardens of the Great Wolf.”
“My name is Saffiyah” she choked out.
“Well Saffiyah,” he said through bated breath, “you should come with me. I know someone who can care for you. You’ll be safe with us.”
Knowing full well it could be a trap, she decided to trust him. She really had no other choice.
Toralf started toward the town, and Saffiyah followed.

PLAYED BY: Jacob Veldhuizen

CONTACT INFO: https://www.facebook.com/jacob.veldhuizen

CHARACTER NAME: Elegast

NICKNAMES: “Elegast the Wanderer”, “El”, “Ellie”(childhood)

GENDER: Male

CLASS: Cleric

AGE: 69

RACE: Syndar

HAIR: Blonde

EYES: Blue

KNOWN SKILLS: A skilled draftsman, former teacher, capable soldier, and survivalist

BIRTHPLACE: Born in the City of Seven Gates, The Kingdom of Tielorrien on Faedrun

NOTABLE TRAITS and APPEARANCE: A reserved initial demeanor opening into a thoughtful and curious personality, Elegast is tall with short hair and a beard.

RELATIONSHIPS: Fulwin (best friend, M.I.A)

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:

198-210: Elegast is born to Llwellenar and Faunalyn in the City of Seven Gates in the Kingdom of Tielorrien on the continent of Faedrun.  The first of two children, Elegast is raised in the loving care of both parent’s extended families.  His Father comes from a farming commune hugging the outside of the city’s large eastern wall while his mother comes from a smaller family living close to the academy building of the Bellath-ah-Dien, also in the eastern quadrant of the city.  With both families living close enough to walk to within a day, Elegast is raised in the wealth of life that each community can offer.  Elegast is shielded from much of the horror of the undead plague in his early years.  He grows up playing with his brother, cousins, and friends in the fields and forests of his paternal family’s lands, growing strong of heart and spirit in the country air.  With his maternal family, Elegast is exposed to the beauty and famous culture of the grand City of Seven Gates.  Trips through the gates and into the city center spark his intellectual and creative mind.

210-214: The truth of the war against the undead plague slowly builds in Elegast’s mind.  No longer a simple game of Knights vs Undead to pretend at with his friends, but a harsh reality when a schoolmate’s father does not come home.  Then another student’s mother.  A cousin.  Neighbors traveling between cities.  Soon it becomes all too common to have multiple relatives or acquaintances lose friends and family.  A tale of a Tielorrien soldier meeting his undead brother in battle circulates Elegast’s school.  Rumor, gossip, truth, or myth Elegast does not know but the story takes hold in his heart.  Imagining himself in the place of the knight and coming upon the undead face of his own brother in battle breaks his heart, and he weeps.  Elegast promises himself this will not be his fate.  He begins in earnest to learn whatever he can about the undead and how to stop them.  Whatever golden innocence there is in childhood slowly fades, as Elegast begins to train himself for war.

214-216: Elegast begs his family to let him study with the Galendhidur early.  After much initial resistance, they acquiesce in the face of his stubborn desire.  Elegast does well in his training and is among those selected to receive further training as an officer candidate.  During his time at Galendhidur Elegast meets a fellow officer candidate named Fulwin.  The two become fast friends.

216-220: Elegast is finally of age and officially enlists in the Tielorrien military.  He joins many of his peers in this fight.  Few can remember a time without the threat of undead in the world and they are eager to join.  Elegast is commissioned as a second lieutenant in The Grand Alliance under Knight Arryn of Tielorrien.  His close friend Fulwin is also sent to serve under Knight Arryn as her first lieutenant in charge of Logistics and Information. 

220-224: Elegast returns from leave to his second deployment under Knight Arryn.  Knight Arryn has been tasked by the Tielorrien command with testing a new military unit called “Herders”.  Small units of mobile skirmishers designed to perform hit and “jog” attacks on undead troops.  Performing small hits on targets and then retreating to a position of safety while still being visible to the enemy.  Their goal is to “herd” or lure opposition forces into advantageous positions for the larger Alliance forces to engage, as well as ensuring that smaller enemy forces aren’t able to peel off from the main force.  Elegast is promoted to first lieutenant and placed in command of the experimental new unit.  To his delight, he begins working closely with his best friend Fulwin to organize and optimize the Herders actions.

224-226:  At the end of his second deployment Elegast is given a six-month leave.  Before his departure from Knight Arryn’s service, he is awarded a commendation for his leadership of The Herders and promoted to Captain.  He is informed that he is being given command of the small new Galendhidur Herder Training Academy in his home City of Seven Gates.  Leaving the front Elegast is accompanied by Fulwin who has also recently earned a promotion and leave.  Elegast is proud but exhausted from the eight years of war.  His emotions are mixed during his time away from combat.  Thinking the battle against The Undead would have ended before now he is discouraged that no major victory has occurred or seems likely in the coming months if not years.  And while his success as a Herder and upcoming teaching position bring him a physical break and new mental challenge he cannot break loose from a growing cloud in his soul.  The following two years are tumultuous for Elegast.  He finds himself to be a capable instructor and produces several exceptional soldiers. At the same time, he witnesses the significant loss of Tielorrien homeland to The Undead.  The letters he receives from Fulwin, now working as a Logistics and Intelligence Liaison to the human militaries, do little to encourage him.  The Grand Alliance remains stable but is less able to send aid to the Tielorrien and other Syndar nations with each passing month.  Concerned for his family’s safety he moves his parents nearer to the Galendhidur Academies while also requesting his brother’s commission be moved to his training academy as an instructor.

226-232: In the ensuing six years Elegast remains the head instructor for the small Galendhidur Herder Training Academy.  His skill as a teacher grow with each passing year, but as the tide continues to swell against the favor of the Tielorrien People, Elegast becomes restless and itches to return to battle.

232-234: His chance arrives all too quickly.  Major losses in the Tielorrien homeland have caused the return of the main Tielorrien military force from their positions in The Grand Alliance.  Elegast receives word that he is needed on the battlefield.  His commission is once again transferred to a now older and visibly worn down Knight Arryn.  With her physical capabilities greatly handicapped Elegast often takes Knight Arryn’s place on the battlefield after spending long hours under her consultation.  Fulwin, having returned with the main Tielorrien force, also joins Knight Arryn to consult and strategize but his visits are far and few between as his presence is needed across the embattled army.  Before long, fighting moves to the walls of the capitol City of Seven Gates, and then, into the streets.

235: For a brief moment time stands still for Elegast.  From the center two spires in the middle circle of the capitol, Elegast looks out across the burning city of his birth and feels its death.  The May’Kar have turned and betrayed The Grand Alliance and now The Undead march innumerable in the heart of the City of Seven Gates.  Snapping back to the task at hand, Elegast resumes his run along the spire parapets.  He is coordinating what remains of the fallen Knight Arryn’s command and a handful of civilians in retreating to the main force harbored in boats along the river cutting through the city center. Waiting for him at his appointed barge is Fulwin.  Taking their leave with the rest of the Tielorrien military Elegast’s barge passes through the final river gate and into open water.  Looking back through the night air, the light of a thousand fires dance across soot-covered faces as the last of the Tielorrien people leave their home.

236-250: The next 14 years evaporate in a cruel loop of long marches and anxious waiting followed by short intense bursts of fighting and running.  The refugees of Tielorrien quickly become dispersed across the remaining safe zones of Faedrun.  Elegast, Fulwin, and the remaining 20 or so soldiers left from Knight Arryn’s command join what remains of The Grand Alliance and are tasked with guarding refugees as they make their way from war zones to safe havens.  On his few days rest Elegast visits his mother, father, and few relatives living in a refugee settlement.  They give him momentary respite from a world torn apart and give him what little information they receive of his brother fighting with the Vandregon army.

250-253:  The settlement where Elegast’s family lives is raided.  None survive.  Elegast loses contact with his brother and is unable to get word through military channels as to his state.  Elegast and Fulwin are two of now 12 remaining soldiers from their days under command of Knight Arryn.  They move to the southern lands of Vandregon, fighting as a small force helping to protect port towns.

253: Elegast is severely wounded in the right leg while fighting outside a port town in southern Vandregon.  Against his will, Elegast is forced onto a ship bound for the new world by Fulwin.  Tears in his eyes Elegast begs Fulwin to take him back to the fight but Fulwin pushes him onto a bunk in the lower hold and quickly ties his hands to the post.  Fulwin holds Elegast’s head in his hands and places his own forehead against Elegast’s.  Sweat and tears mix as the two say whispered goodbyes.  Slowly, Fulwin rises and walks away from Elegast and off the boat.  As the boat begins its journey to a new land Elegast hears audible groans and gasps of terror from above.  Furiously fighting to undo his bindings Elegast manages to hobble up the stairs to the main deck and is overcome by what he sees across the water.  Making their along the coast is the largest horde of undead Elegast has ever witnessed.  In a fit, he tries to climb overboard but is easily overpowered by those standing next to him and restrained. Furious he frees an arm and attempts to strike those who hold him back.  His fist meets only air.  The loss of blood and brother catching up with him, he passes out. While crossing the ocean Elegast’s leg becomes infected and his journey is spent below deck in the makeshift infirmary.  Despondent and in a feverish daze he clings to life.  Arriving at Newhope, Elegast is carried off the boat on a stretcher and onto a new world.

254-266: Once fully recovered Elegast spends the next weeks and months pleading with local officials and any arriving ships to return to Faedrun in the hopes that he may find and rejoin his men.  Few share his interest in returning and the news that reaches the new world is grim.  No ships are sent back.

Elegast builds himself a small hut on the outskirts of Newhope near the shore. He spends his evenings watching for incoming ships in the faint hope of the arrival of his brothers in arms.  No such ship comes.  Elegast begins to withdraw from the small connections he has made.  He continues to pick up small jobs to survive but rarely speaks to anyone more than necessary.  Falling into a deep depression Elegast is consumed.  Months pass.  Seasons creep by.  And then his darkness breaks.  What’s left, however, is not whole.  He has been hallowed out in some sad small way.  Elegast kneels into a position he has not taken since his arrival on Mardrun.  Meditating for two full days, Elegast rises with the sun on the morning of the third day.  Shakily standing from his kneeling position Elegast stumbles to his cupboard and hungrily devours what food and water he has.  Resting for a moment, Elegast drags his dusty armor from under his bed and walks out of the hut.  Finding a lone tree atop the cliffs, Elegast digs a hole with what strength he can after two full days of meditating.  He slowly and silently buries his Tielorrien armor, placing a small pile of rocks over the mound.  After saying a small prayer for those he will never see again and those left behind, Elegast returns to his hut.  Packing quickly, Elegast places essentials in his pack and everything else in a pile against a wall.  The only reminder of his life on Faedrun he keeps is a lightly woven and intricately decorated tunic.  Taking his tinderbox, Elegast lights a small flame in the pile of belongings against the wall.  As the flames begin to grow Elegast places his pack across his shoulders and walks out as smoke fills the hut.  As fire creeps out of the door, Elegast watches for a moment before turning and walking down a path and away from Newhope, a hollowed wanderer.

267:  A streak of blue flits across Elegast’s mind.  Suddenly a massive wave crests and crashes down smashing Elegast against the rocks.  Just as suddenly the water is gone and Elegast stands on dry arid ground.  Again the blue streak flits across his vision and behind him.  Elegast turns just in time to see the blue streak fly face first into him.  With a start, he wakes up.  The sun has just begun to peak over the horizon.  Collecting his things Elegast stands, pausing for a moment.  It has been 12 years since he walked away from the world.  Looking back at the retreating night, Elegast turns and begins walking toward the rising dawn.

Aramaeyis was born a small, frail Syndar child in the kingdom of Tielorrien in the year 245 but loved by his parents nonetheless. Miraluya Whisperwind was a performer, recognized for the fluidity of her movements that made her feral syndar traits much more acceptable to others around her. Her husband, Korvarric Whisperwind, owned a small tavern that was always filled with the sounds of music from his instruments and laughter from the patrons. They worshipped the Goddess Lunara and it showed by the love and care they showed one another, and even more so to Aramaeyis. As he continued to grow, Aramaeyis developed small fangs and claws, much to the dismay of his mother who worried it would be hard for him to fit in. Even though Syndar always inherit traits from their mothers she had hoped and prayed that Aramaeyis would be different, but the only Serous trait developed from his father was his “normal skin” and one green eye while the other was blue like hers.
When the undead plague started to ravage the Syndar lands, his parents sold and traded what they could to book passage to the new world hoping to keep Aramaeyis safe. As they made their way to their escape point his father was caught by a a pack of undead. He fought and clawed against the creatures begging Miraluya to take Aramaeyis away.
“Save our son, my love”, he screamed, “And, when it is time, may Lunara bring our love into the mana stream once more!”
The image of his father being ravaged by the undead and his blood quenching the earth itself bore itself into Aramaeyis’ mind. It would be something he would never forget, and the sight of blood itself brought up a feeling of disgust in his gut.
Upon arriving to Madrun, they found a small home in the settlement of Newhope. Fearful that he would grow to resent other Syndar for being shunned for his appearance, Miraluya started to teach Aramaeyis about how important the mana stream really was to their people and also started to teach him to dance. Grief was taking her at the loss of her beloved and she had to leave Aramaeyis with some way to deal with the disgust of others and instead turn it into something passionate and raw. She was surprised how easily he was able to take to her teachings, his body moving in ways even she couldn’t.
He had such control , such emotion, and such beauty to his movements that it left her amazed. Aramaeyis was always at home amongst the flowers and the trees. He danced everyday within the forests claiming the mana stream guided his body and filled him with energy and love. As his mother approached one day, Aramaeyis bowed his head, closed his eyes, and greeted her in the way Syndar were normally accustomed to, “Siala Kay Nu, mother.”
It shook her to see her son in the light. His fangs and nails had grown longer, his eyes shined brightly among the sunlight peeking through the trees, and
he was growing into a man. She sat Aramaeyis down and started to tell him stories of what she did before she met his father. Her dances were a way for her to gather money enough to survive. She danced in taverns and even personally for men and women alike, and watched as they looked upon her in awe.
“You must remember my love and my life, our dance is a form of art and will show people who you really are. You can also use it to alter the emotions of others. All Syndar are born with magic and you will learn to harness yours through your movements. Make them feel them music, the emotions, and the passion your dances bring. The only thing I ask of you Aramaeyis, is to promise to never take the life of another. Your heart is large, and grief is a deadly poison to our people. My prayer is that you never have to experience the destruction of taking another’s life.”
Looking upon his mother, Aramaeyis grew worried but he nodded his head softly and said, “I promise mother, I will only bring joy to those I come across.”
A few years later, Miraluya grew sickly. Aramaeyis remembered her stories of dancing for money, and saw it as a way to try and get some medicine for his mother. Even though she pleaded and begged for him not to go along the same path as her, he wouldn’t listen. Losing his mother was something Aramaeyis could not stomach. Knowing no tavern would take him now, he started to perform in the streets drawing small crowds at first that grew larger everyday as people started to be entranced by his movements. He soon started to learn that people sought him out for more than dances. They wanted a companion, which to Aramaeyis who was shunned for always being different, was an appealing thought. He soon learned however, that companionship meant more than he thought it did.
Men and women alike requested him after being entranced by his dances but it brought about the money he needed to care for his mother. Aramaeyis soon learned that those who he shared a bed with, also liked to share the secrets of others while relaxed. He also found out that some people would pay quite well from secrets learned from others. Among those he danced for Aramaeyis met an eccentric man by the name of Thanderion. He aroused the curiosities in Aramaeyis with his stories of dueling and fencing
and boasted that he himself was the most famous and well known fencer among the land. As Aramaeyis spent time with Thanderion and learned more about the world they were in, he learned of a place called the Brown Chicken Brown Cow. An establishment that excelled at the skills his mother used to display and that he started to learn himself. It was run by a woman named Marrah whose beauty was only matched by the sharpness of her tongue. It intrigued him to learn that everyone there was excepted by her as long as you had something to offer her.
Eventually, the grief took Miraluya. The loss of her husband and loss of her sons pure nature became too much for her. Her only wish was that her son would find happiness in everything he did. The loss of his mother however, stung Aramaeyis like a blade to the heart. She was the only person that truly accepted all of him and loved him for it and now she was no more. Even though he knew she would be returned to the mana stream, the thought of never feeling her warmth and her love again became a pit in his stomach. As the years went on he turned to joys of the spirit and his dances became more feral, more raw. Thanderion visited once again, and upon seeing Aramaeyis in this state, offered to travel with him to see Marrah. He hoped that finding a place where he would be included would keep Maey from going down a darker path. As they traveled they grew closer as friends, and the smile that once used to light Maey’s face was brighter than before. As they traveled they came upon the company of an Ulven
camp. Maey had always regarded the ulven with a large amount of respect, knowing that even though the Ulven were large and beast like, honor was the highest priority to them. As they approached he realized they were armed and the symbol of a great wolf was shown among them.
“It’s the Wardens of the Great Wolf,” Thanderion explained. “They are a band of warriors,
healers, and the like who believe in honor and justice among all things. It would seem we are lucky young Maey, Marrah is one of them.” Maey grew excited upon seeing how diverse this group was. They all seemed to enjoy the company of one another, and even upon seeing Maey’s fangs and claws, looked upon him as they would any other. Thanderion led Maey to a beautiful woman who he soon learned was Marrah herself. “He tells me you have a gift of movement as well as the gift of tongue.” Marrah looked upon Maey studying his appearance. “I heard of a certain feral Syndar dancer who had a way with secrets. We were actually hoping to run across you among our travels. You must know that serving me has it’s perks however, you are mine. The wardens are a group who believe in honor and justice, but we realize that passion and pleasure also bring in necessary coin. Be mine and I promise you a life of thrills, secrets, and music to rile your very soul.” Maey couldn’t resist her. The woman was a master of words, and before he knew it he was nodding his head as Marrah placed a collar around his neck, “You’ll come
to love it, trust me.”
As Maey traveled with the Wardens he grew quite fond of those he traveled with. They all came from different lives and had their own tragedies and they understood him. Even though thinking of his parents always drove sadness into his face, he remembered his oath to his mother. To always bring joy to others and never harm. Some of the Wardens were indifferent about the oath, but respected it nonetheless. Marrah wanted to prepare Maey for a grand event they were preparing for. As the group prepared for their journey, he couldn’t be more excited to see what life among the Wardens and his new friends would bring.

Name: Noemi

Race: Syndar

Class: Cleric

Gender: Female

Age: 23

Hair: Dark Brown

Eyes: Purple

Appearance: skull painted on her face, large horns on each side of her head.

I grew up alongside seven other Syndar who looked like me. Their parents took me in on the condition that I would be seen, not heard, speak only when spoken to, and that I must be sure to make myself useful. When the time came and the other children built their first altar they carved them meaningfully out of stone on a small cliff side surrounded by their friends and family. It was celebrated as it should be with sweets and flowers, music and dancing. When they painted their faces, they did so with beautiful pigments and paints made from the flowers in our mother’s garden.

I built my first altar alone at the bottom of a tree using a plate I stole while doing dishes and some dirty weeds I plucked from the garden. My face was painted as it always been with the ashes and soot of my cooking fires. The other children grew up as children should, surrounded by joy and showered in love. Mother always told me I could have that too, if I could just be better. Father always told me he often forgets I am even in the house.

“Your face. Your clothes. Everything about you is just so forgettable, girl.” He would tell me, after he tripping over my legs while I put away their cleaned clothes.

“How can I possibly remember a thing like you is here, standing behind all my beautiful children?” He would ask me, as we walk away from the family ofrenda, my offering still dangling in my grasp because I could not reach the platform.

“With all that dark paint you just blend into the night, I didn’t even see you had fallen behind.” He would say, stepping out of the doorway to let me into the house after I had to find my way home alone from the yearly parade of the dead.

He can laugh and scoff, but I’ll make him remember me someday.

The only time I’ve ever had for myself is in the garden. I’ve always found peace in the flowers, in their bright colors, in the promises they make me. They show me lifetimes of beauty, from the day they fully bloom to the day they are ground into dust and used to color my family’s faces. Each flower more beautiful than the last, I admire them even as their ground bodies are washed from faces and poured back into the earth. They promise me that even something so small and insignificant can bring joy to the saddest souls. I meditate there often, surrounded by blooms and blossoms. Sometimes it feels wrong to meditate away from my altar, but the amount of time I have spent nurturing the flowers makes me feel like, in a way, the garden is my altar too.

I’ve often looked out to the sea. Its still waters show me the world outside this island and without much effort I can see the land to the north and west. There are times I would swear I can reach out and touch those not so distant shores. I want nothing more than to leave behind what I don’t have here, to find a life worth living on the bigger land. I don’t care if everyone who lives there are all the same as the only outsiders I’ve encountered, the ones who float by past our shores on large wooden boats, the ones our elders say will only bring us harm. They tell us stories about the savages that are native to the bigger land, how they fought the humans that came on the first boats, how they all think we don’t belong here. On that we can agree; I also think I don’t belong here.

I’ll make it out. I’ll touch the shores of the bigger land. I want to. I have to.

Character: Finnath

Player: Jake Segor
-Male, Age 49, Rogue class
-Syndar of the Phoenix
-Professional wanderer and expert in finding fancy plants and rabbits

Finnath had always had trouble staying focused with much of anything. Born to the Phoenix tribe in the deserts of the May’kar Dominion, he was easily distracted by anything that wasn’t sand. When the Phoenix would stop in any city, big or small, Finnath would almost surely get lost trying to explore anything he could.

His father was a hunter and trapper, his mother passed during childbirth. While his father admired Finnath’s curiosity and excitement, he also worried since he knew the dangers of straying too far from the group in the desert or, maybe worse, in a city. While Finnath wasn’t very attentive to his father’s teachings of trapping and the many ways to skin animals, he picked up what he needed to at least make him proud.
Finn was far more interested in hearing stories about lands with great green forests, wide blue lakes, and strange and different customs. He especially loved the stories Laertes would tell and would constantly pry for more details about these far off places.
When he was 19, the decision to follow Magis Yara was made and Finnath was beyond thrilled to be going on a real adventure. Sure they had made many treks across the desert before, but he always knew that it would lead to just more of the tan and brown expanses. Now he’ll actually get to see something new, the sea that he’s heard so much about. His young optimism held strong in the harsh travels through the desert. Game was scarce and remaining food had to be rationed. His father would often give his own food to Finn and unthinking, Finn would graciously eat it. After a time, his father grew exhausted and ill, like many others.
As reality began to set in, the gravity of the situation wore at Finn’s optimism. He knew he had to help his father, he would plea to the clerics of the group but their energy was also quite tapped. The most that could be done was to try to find reagents to concoct tonics that might help him and others who had also been suffering from this ailment. In foreign lands with not much hope, he decided to try to search for these reagents himself. The next time their caravan stopped for the night, he snuck out of camp and went on his own, scouring the dunes for any of the scarce plants he could find. After days of repeating this and making very little progress, he knew he would need help.
Anariel was older than him by two years, growing up together he knew that he could trust her. Finn knew that with her desire to help others, love of adventure, and being his friend that she would be willing to help. With Anariel’s camel, Clementine, they were able to cover much more ground. After three nights with no success, it began to feel dismal. His father grew weaker with each day. On the fourth night they found a lush oasis, plants of all sorts grown around it! They collected what they could carry and took it back. Overjoyed, elders put the reagents to good use, healing Finnath’s father along with many others. Finnath and Anariel tried to explain where this oasis was, but when the caravan got to that spot, nothing remained, as if it had all been some sort of mirage. While his father still recovered, Finnath tried to take up his responsibilities. He began to wish he had paid more attention to his father before, and found himself asking more questions about his trade with each passing day.
When they had finally made it, Finn’s eyes grew wide, taking in the sight of the most water he’d ever seen in his life. He ran to the shore and simply couldn’t believe this to be real. Just as he’d been told, it was almost the total opposite of the desert. It was blue and wet everywhere! The Phoenix stayed here for some time, he had heard it was to find ships and someone willing to captain them. He would spend these days exploring this port city, watching dock workers bring in boats and fish, so many fish! He’d never seen live fish like this before and was intrigued. He attempted to board a fishing vessel once. Snuck on as they took off. It was then that he truly learned what it meant to be seasick. While he didn’t learn much about fish that day, he did learn that he didn’t like boats. Months passed and eventually the day came to board a ship to find their new home. Finn spent most of that time below deck. He was far less helpful on the seas than he had once imagined himself being. He found himself wondering if an endless sea was actually worse than a desert. And for all the times that they wished they had more water in their travels to get to the sea, now he only wished it would go away. After storms on the sea and in his stomach, they finally land at their new home.
If he had been excited when he first saw the sea, it didn’t even compare to what he felt now. In his heart he knew that this place was the home he had always dreamt of. Lush greens and blues of trees and the accent of the sea. Sand on the beach even felt welcoming, for the first time he may have even enjoyed its tan hue and coarseness under his feet. The only thing to break his near trance like state of taking in all of these delightful colors, is the sounds of his friends and family cheering in excitement. That day they built a basic camp and much celebration and praise to Solarus fills the air until night. The next day, and each day after that, they find ways to survive and make this new home their own. Finnath and his father build a small home on the ground. As much as Finn wanted to live in the trees and be closer to the sky, his father’s stamina still was not the greatest and this was much easier for him. The days were spent exploring, finding new fruits and other foods along with small animals. Finn loved to watch the rabbits on the island, the way they would dart here and there always made him smile. He had no qualms to hunting and trapping them, but everyone agreed that had to be done in moderation. This gave him more than enough opportunities to spend time spectating. Over the years he learned to truly love providing for his community. As much as he loved going out into the forests and traversing new portions of the island, seeing the joy that he would bring to the faces of the others brought him something even more.
Days pass like hours, and years pass like mere weeks. They name their new home Fire Isle and it goes from surviving to thriving. Finnath perfects his skills with traps and bows. He even lures some groups of live rabbits into a make-shift pen and starts raising them. On a fateful day, a group of Phoenix lead by Laertes and Anariel head off to see if they can find more land. Word travels back that they found humans! They start to travel back and forth, each time coming back with more exciting stories than the last time, and with more silver. Finnath continues his daily life, tending to his rabbits and foraging what he can even though it becomes less necessary each day. One day, after walking one of the same trails that he’d walked every 5th day of the week he came to a realization. He was bored. As a member of the community, he feels a responsibility to stay behind. Over time his father takes notice of Finn growing depressed and follows him one day. Knowing what needs to be done, he packs Finn’s things and that night he convinces him to join the expeditions heading north, saying that if there’s anyone who could help bring color and sunlight to the dirge, it would be Finnath. Standing at the shores of Fire Isle, Finn wonders if the north will hold the same excitement as those first steps that he took onto the island. As he sees the Phoenix ship come into view on the horizon, he can’t tell if his stomach is starting to turn with excitement or the ever so fond memory of seasickness. An hour later he’d come to realize it was both, but still manages to keep a strong and wild smile.

Yeruvonna (Vonna) Convallaria

Played By: Basia Patten

Gender: Female

Age: 37

Race: Serous Syndar

Class: Rogue

Birthplace: Lairthuduil

Hair: Blond

Eyes: Blue

Notable Traits: 5’10”, Short braided hair, spiky in the back. Kind inquisitive eyes. Small scar above upper lip on her right side.

Known Skills: Unknown

Connections: Ravens

All she knew was nothing.

All she knew were the lands of New Aldoria now. She was forbidden to speak of much of her life, her home: the beautiful fields of pristine Lairthuduil. There, she knew herbs; the plants were fascinating and intriguing. She used to spend a lot of her spare time in the fields; observing flowers, reading books, and just spectating the world around her. Back home she was often left alone with her studies, completely content with her surroundings and her life. Those memories paled in comparison to what she had now: New Aldoria and Mardrun.

Her commune was one of the first ones brought in to explore the new world under the Aldorian banner. They brought her to Mardrun during a warm summer in the year 256. The newness and the unknown dangers of this foreign land were overwhelming, as were the cultures and customs of other races and the vegetation. And the plants – the new variation of herbs and plants were overwhelming, yet fascinating to her. Everything was fascinating to her. She had so many questions; questions about her home, the new world, and how her kin will continue. She wanted to understand the surrounding world she was forced to live in. But the questions often went unanswered. They pretended it was fine. They pretended nothing needed to be done or said. The undead pushed them out and steered them towards what others called, “hope” – at least, that’s what she was told. But it was not the same. She was not the same. Her commune kept her in the dark to protect their kin, or so they said. To try to reclaim what her kind used to be – to figure out how to regain their strength and numbers. But things were changing.

She was changing.

Not much is known about her during the five long years she wandered Mardun, seeking purpose and direction. At the time she was fed up with not know what the future held. She seldom speaks of that experience, the miles walked on foot no matter the weather. It was a good way to reassure her nagging thoughts that she wasn’t like the rest of her commune, or the Aldorians that saved them from complete destruction. They didn’t try to understand the unraveling thoughts that never left since her first step in Mardrun. They wouldn’t understand.

They never cared. Caring was almost a comical feeling for her. Almost unknown. Caring was what brought her pain. But also exposed her to a world she might have never known. She wanted to understand the land. The land which brought her a piece of what one may call happiness. She met HIM sometime after the first year on her own, stumbled upon him while passing Davon’s Reach. After that they spend two very short years exploring Mardrun together. The details are a little foggy as to what exactly HE was to her. She never quite understood his customs and the way humans love, but it made her smile nonetheless. HE made her smile. HE was exactly what she needed: a companion. HE was the one who made her desire to keep exploring these new lands, he was the one who helped her find her purpose. HIS kindness, honesty, openness…

…And his death.

The pain tore at her. It made her blind and absolutely devastated for a time – made her lose the sight of her purpose. But, after a time, the memories of everything she had learned from HIM brought her comfort. He wouldn’t wallow in pain. He wouldn’t want that for me. She wants to know more. She wanted knowledge in the effort to prevent anyone else from suffering the same fate…. Prevent death. She saw herself drown. She saw her path knowing it wasn’t as simple as that… Senseless death, death for no reason, needless aggression. Those are the things that caused HIS death. The things she saw humans use in search of power, of control in this strange land – she wanted to change how things would be done, by using her words. And yet…she couldn’t do it alone. She wasn’t strong enough to do so by herself. She wanted to do more; she wanted to know everything.

In hopes of a better future, she cast aside her solitude and joined with a group who accepted her. After another two years, it felt good to be a part of something once again. The group called to her and calmed her spirit, finally letting her enjoy her life amidst the lost memories of the past. Her goal: to be a voice in hopes to change this land. The Ravens, with their political expertise and camaraderie, would help her become exactly that.

Everything was important.

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 Newhope, 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 Newhope?”

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 Newhope, 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 Newhope 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.

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 newhope. 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.

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 Newhope 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.

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.