RPoTM Bio Entries for May 2012

[Doubtful]

1.

Budo Minnal

20 years of life had brought him to this point. In the dark, pressed up against the wall and ceiling; odd elves passing below him. Because he’d seen the strange metal, warm to the touch? He knew roughly how far away it was, but had no idea how to forge it. So he was going to find the surface source. Once there, perhaps he would be able to find someone that knew how to use the metal if it had one. But that wasn’t the real reason, just an excuse. He had no idea what lay above the deep Underdark. Above was something he had no idea about. He’d never seen the moon, the stars, or the Sun. Someone might be up there, someone might not be. Perhaps it was a land where these elves ruled. He could feel the magic ebbing away from him. The only ability he had left was to be unseen by fading into the darkness. How had it come to this?

Born deep in the small little village well underground. Middle child in 5. With a mother like most Svirfneblin mothers -doting and protective. His grandmother had come to his birth, and looked at him. In their family, it was the grandparents who decided the name of the child. She looked him over and nodded slowly. “I’ve seen those eyes before. He will be named after your Lost brother young daughter”.

Life was harsh and cruel in the dark belly of the world. Small children were warned to stay vigilant and not to get greedy, lest Urdlen find you and take you away to darker places. Most of the village followed the Earthcaller or Smoothands; his family had an affinity for Cloakshadow. He learned of his uncle when he was a young lad; an uncle that went off to see what else was in the world, and had never came back. He admired that. None in the village seemed to understand the predilection to wander. Wandering was dangerous in the Underdark. Life was harsh and short enough without inviting danger.

By 14 he learned how not to be seen. He needed to because he often went to explore beyond the safety of the village; looking for Fungi, rothe and blind fish. Finding trinkets and pieces of metal fascinated him too, as he was beginning to work some metals. He kept out of sight by staying close to the walls, up on the ceilings, walls or stalactites. Getting into things he shouldn’t was a knack he found useful; yet he had the sense not to push his luck to far.

At this time his grandmother took him aside and instructed him on Cloakshadow rites. Her 3rd son went out and never came back; she said she saw the same thing in him as she had seen in his uncle and he would benefit from the tutelage; he would likely leave one day never to be seen again. Tutelage over t 3 years gave him what he would need to hunt down those who tried using shadows for evil; trickery and illusion could be used against them. He never knew if it was a good fit for his own philosophies or perhaps developed from exposure before that. All he had learned on his own honed by the teachings of his grandmother. In secret she taught him; such were the ways of the followers of Cloakshadow. Retribution for causing suffering to your kin or to innocents should be met with harshly. None in the village knew what their long talks were about; the family didn’t questioned it. The path she set would allow him to strike from the shadows against those in the shadows doing ill. The underdark was straight forward, and offered little in the way of true deception, but above it was said that light and dark mingled, sometimes together so you could not tell one from the other. He would be able to survive above with this knowledge.

He continued his studies and his explorations when he was not hunting or foraging. Until the earthquake opened up numerous small tunnels leading upward. He had explored many when he came across the metal; the hot, lustrous ore -a vein far away from the village. He informed miners of his find. Most were sceptical, but one investigated with him. They brought it back but could not fathom how to smelt it. He thought he could get the information from above. Most scoffed at that. Surfacers were not to be trusted. They simply gave up on the metal and went about their daily lives. The thought continued to eat at the back of his mind. Why? Was there more to it? What was above? Why did he care? His grandmother called him.

“You are uneasy. Your time near it’s end here I think, yes?” Slowly he nodded, feeling almost ashamed. None in the village understood why he disappeared for days on end; murmured and stopped talking when he came close; gave looks. Svirfneblin were slow to trust anyone, let alone someone with such wanderlust; that could get one killed quickly, or worse, could lead something horrific down on the village. His choice was clear. He could not stay and be a danger those he cared about; he would find his own way. His grandmother was accepting of his decision; his mother cried and noded; he had decided nothing but what must be. The rest of the village knew nothing but that he was leaving for good; an oddity and good to be rid of. Friends asked; he simply said he was going to look for the source of the metal, and learn to forge it. He knew he would be followed by elders... they would close whatever path he took... he would not see his family again. He did not know what lay before him; the small fissure in the earth lead up.

It weaved upwards toward the surface, tight in spots, wider in others. He used all his ability to maneuver through the fissure. It took him days (all Svirfneblin he had no real concept of time --nothing rose or set to keep track of such trivial things). Bad things came at any time or place when you lived in the underdark. When he reached the end of the fissure it wasn’t to see the mystic sky, but a large passage, partly hewn, partly natural; and voices. High, lilting, but at the same time whispering made of something unnatural; shadows and echos. Smaller than he would have guessed to be elves; taller than gnomes or dwarves; the ears suggested the former. He evaded patrols for days; his path out was through their tunnels.

Past their city he skulked, keeping to walls; unseen. It was all he could to do keep his composure and stay hidden. He felt the natural affinity for the inherent magic -and the bond between him and Cloadshadow- begin to fade as he went farther up toward the surface. Is this what the surface held for him? Lack of magic!? What a horrible fate surfacers must live in! At least there was magic in the underdark. He had to snap his mind back into focus; no turning back now; he had other skills. Only once did someone see him; his small dagger/climbing pinion made short work of the elf; a quick dash right to throw it off balance, then a quick jab to the jugular ended its life quickly. Now a faster race. They would find the body, hanging from the ceiling, out of reach, and know how it died.

His heart continually pounding in his chest until he arrived in the outside air -salty, something he hadn’t expected. Mist from the sea, foreign to him even at this distance, felt a bit like home. He had a want for some fermented fish; that would wait. Despite clouds in the sky, there was little outside to hide in. He ran up the steep embankment. The crater left was not from a volcano; the ground clear and glassy black. A meteor had fallen from the sky; he did not know that. He ran hard, taking in deep breaths of the clear air; it burned. He needed to get away and ignored the mild agoraphobia. The farther he went, the less he felt the oppression of his natural abilities and Cloakshadows influence.

When he stumbled into the village with haphazard lean-tos and tents he looked around. Numerous people about mostly ignored the sweating little gnome in the twilight. The large building seemed the best place to start inquiries. He recalled the last thing his Grandmother said to him; “Trust few; hold those that earn trust close; deal with those who destroy trust with subtle retribution.” This was life now. Alone, without kin, but free of danger for a while. Soon enough he would invite danger.

[Doubtful]

2.

Lazklesh
Water Genasi
Deity: Auril

Description: Lazklesh stands around 6’3”. His muscular body covered in blue flesh. His white eyes like spheres of ice. A scar surrounds his right eye. It looks as if it is from a severe burn. If seen, his teeth are sharp and jagged. Perhaps they are natural, or perhaps he has done something to make them look this way.

Personality: Lazklesh seems quiet, yet demanding. The champion of Auril, as he claims to be, is what makes him who he is. All that he does is for Auril, and her domain. He does not anger easily, but is quick to challenge one to a test of strength in arms. In his eyes the strongest deserves respect. He knows that for most, the frozen wastes are relentless and unforgiving. Having little to no trouble handling the cold himself, causes him to be a bit arrogant. He shows no fear, but has an extreme uneasiness around large flames, or beings known to create them. He sees such beings as a threat to himself, and to Auril, which in time must be dealt with. He rarely speaks more than a few words, save for when he speaks of his goddess.

The Beginning: Lazklesh was born in mid-winter, in a cave at the edge of Icewind Dale, and the Sea of Moving Ice. He was raised by a single genasi mother, as it had always been since his genasi blood line started. Her name was Ilzahesh. He was, however, the first male to be born in 10 generations. The mothers would mate with a traveler, and then disappear to this very same cave. When the child was born, the grandmother would swim off into the sea. Perhaps to find adventure, or to die. It was a tradition that would not be broken with Lazklesh.

The Sea of Moving Ice did not see many adventurers. Though Umberlee’s waves destroy many a ship, there are often survivors. Aurils glaciers however, leave none. Many a corpse have found their place in the frozen depths. Due to this, his mother raised him for 10 years before she found another mate. Once pregnant, she had to decide what to do with Lazklesh.

Lazklesh was almost 11, when Ilzahesh made her decision. She had grown attached, as any mother would, but she was raised to uphold the tradition. It was all she had known. She told him if he traveled south, he would eventually find settlements. She handed him a falchion that she had found on one of corpses beneath the moving ice. She spoke the last words she would ever speak to her son. “May Auril guide your path”

The Journey: Lazklesh began his journey south. Accepting his mothers decision, but not understanding it. She did not teach him the tradition, as he was a male. Thoughts rushed through his head, the further he get from home. Had he done something wrong? Was it a test? Did she not care for him? He would ask himself questions like these often, in the years to come.
He was young, and barely surviving. He had traveled quite a ways, when he came upon a camp one night. The men, surprised to see a half naked boy, with only a blade, walking through the frozen lands alone at night. Getting a good look was not easy at first, as he avoided the fire. One of the adventurers had heard Lazklesh’s approach, and slipped into the shadows. He came up behind him, a blade to his throat, and pushed him towards the fire. The light reflected off his blue skin. Two of the other adventurers drew their blades, one saying it was a demon. The last adventurer, was more experienced, and knowledgeable than his companions. He spoke in a commanding voice “Halt! He is no demon. He is a water-soul. We may have use for him.”

The men fed him, and began to train him. When the storms were to much for them, Lazklesh being unaffected by the cold, would gather their food. For a few years he had purpose, but those questions still haunted him. His abilities were progressing well, but his life was becoming too routine. He wanted something more. He began to spend more time away from those he called his companions. Often spending days in the frozen wastes alone, entering a deep meditation. His mothers words playing repeatedly through his mind. “May Auril guide your path”.


The Superiority of Ice: Lazklesh was 17 now. Many of his actions were hormone driven. He wanted to learn more of Auril, and would have his chance soon enough. The more experienced companion had a daughter of 18, her name was Elisabeth. They were heading to the hunters village, as they did every couple months or so. Laz always camped outside of the village. This yea was no different.


One night while meditating alone near his tent, Elisabeth approached. Laz opened his eyes, and saw the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. She was tall and skinny. Her her blonde hair long a flowing. Her chest, well endowed, and her eyes green with long seductive eyelashes. Laz was bashful, as he had no experience speaking with females. Elisabeth did all the talking. She seemed to enjoy his lack of words, and that he would just listen to all she had to say. She told him how she had never seen one like him before. She spoke of her goddess Auril, and her teachings. She told him how when the stormy season ended, she would be heading to one of Auril’s temples to become a priestess. She would continue to visit him each night, and talk of random things. Each night when she would leave, the weight upon his chest would be heavier and heavier. He was growing attached. He was feeling love, something he had never really known.

Elisabeth had begun to start to feel the same way for Laz. One night, her father discovered she had snuck out. He gathered some of the other hunters and followed her footprints. They arrived, torches in hand, as Elisabeth, and Lazkleth were sharing their first kiss. Her father allowed his anger to overtake him. He began to shout, screaming “BURN THE DEMON!”. He thought their relationship was much more. He thought there was a chance that his daughter had conceived a child. He had no way of knowing that he had interrupted their first kiss. He swung his torch at Laz, hitting his right eyes, causing a sever burn. Several of the hunter surrounded him, and began to beat him. They left him there to die.

Laz lay there, for several days covered in snow. During which time, Elisabeth’s departure to the temple was expedited. Laz traveled to the town, and learned of this. He followed their tracks for about a week, before he came upon their camp. Elisabeth had already been dropped off at the temple however. While they slept, he snuck into their tents, and grabbed their armor and weapons. He threw them onto the fire, and watched them burn. He watched from a distance as the men awoke, cold and shivering, with no armor to keep them warm, and no weapons with which to get more wood, or defend themselves. One by one they dropped, taken by Aurils cold breath. Laz approached the camp, only Elisabeth’s father was still alive, but barely. He looked at Laz and spoke. “You still live… Yet, you will not have my daughter. She belongs to Auril now”. Laz squatted down, and stared into his eyes before speaking “Yes, I still live. As long as there is water, then ice shall be eternal“. He wrapped his cold blue hands around the hunters throat, so that his final breath could not escape. It would remain frozen in his lungs for Auril herself to take. He traveled to the temple, to see Elisabeth, but the priestess’ would not allow it. They sent him off, and told him “May Auril guide your path”

Arriving in Sundren: Lazkleth became very detached, ridden with despair knowing he may never see her again. He swam out a ways until he came to a small floating chunk of ice. He sat upon it, thinking deeply on what he would do with the rest of his days. A passing ship spotted him, and had mistaken him for a strange foreigner who’s ship had sank. He climbed aboard this ship, that was headed for Port Avanthyre. When he arrived at the port, one of Umberlee’s clergy approached him, and said “Water-soul, it seems Umberlee smiles upon you this day”. Lazkleth replied “No… The ice shall always overtake the water… Auril guides my path”.

[Doubtful]

3.

Felix Adler – Human (Fey Heritage), Warlock (Fey pact).

Winter had wrapped itself firmly around the hamlet of Eiderforde, its tiny knot of houses lay half buried under the snows, more than a few of them were laid out in the traditional northern style, housing animals and families together under a single roof, providing a warm, if animalisticly aromatic, way of passing the winter. As with so many previous winters the people of Eiderforde looked after each other, paid their dues to their laird, their local temples, shrines and more private gods and spirits and prepared for end end of winter and the planting season to come. All in all the hamlet was happy and content, slumbering in semi snowbound hibernation waiting for the new year to bring its promising new seasons.

It came as something of a surprise when the gnolls arrived.

Felix was amongst a small number of foresters who first came across the gnoll tracks, they led to one of the more remote farmsteads. Inside they found signs of devastation and conflict, but of the family of 8 who had occupied the farm they found only one, flayed, split and laid out as a shrine to the demonic gnollish gods.

Fearing the gnolls would return and strike at the village the elders raised a small warband consisting of most of Eiderforde’s fighting aged men and women, armed with farm tools, the occasional sword or spear, alcohol and heroic stories they set off to strike at the gnolls, rescue their fellow villagers and return triumphant. The rest of the town, including Felix’s wife and son, gathered together in the long hall to prepare for the inevitable victory feast.

The Eiderforde war party tracked the gnolls to a place known as Long Well, an old religious site where a spring rose beneath an old hawthorn tree, here they lost the gnoll tracks. While the warparty spread out to try and relocate the tracks the gnolls attacked, killing or maiming a great many of the townsfolk and taking the remainder as prisoners.
Felix, badly wounded in the fight, offered up his prayers and a fist full of coin to the Long Well in the hope of aid, then passed out.

Felix was then rudely awoken with a spear butt, finding himself surrounded by a troupe of gaily coloured people of apparently elven origin, these high folk had, according to their spokesman, cut short their hunt in order to assist his wounded bleatings and shouts.

After explaining the gnoll threat to his home to the hunters gave him some wine and food while their leader thought on his situation. After a short while she came to him and stated back what he had said and asked for, then asked what he could offer in return. Anything, came his reply.

The deal was simple, she offered hounds and other help to allow Felix to stop the gnoll band who had attacked Eiderforde, in return Felix would serve her in whatever capacity was required until she felt his debt was paid. Satisfied Felix agreed and together they drank a shot to seal the deal.

True to her word the hunt supplied Felix with a horse and hounds, together they rode out at an alarming pace, one rider or another keeping call about any gnoll tracks that were sighted. Within what seemed like minutes the gnoll encampment was found and Felix and the hounds fell upon it with dire anger.

Once the slaughter was over Felix found himself alone in the gnoll camp, a cursory examination of their remains confused him. There were substantially more human bones and remains scattered around their alters and cooking fires than could have come from the single house they had attacked, the pens the gnolls had housed a large number of cattle and sheep from numerous houses and farms in the village. Confused he set to following his tracks back toward the Eiderforde, one hound appearing to guide him when he lost his way.

Eiderforde was all but gone. Not a single house remained with its roof intact, most were fire charred though a few had simply been destroyed through brute force. Of the great hall all that remained were a few blackened stumps and a twisted pile of scorched bodies. All of this was covered in a layer of snow.

Felix was dumbstruck, he wandered the hamlet in a daze, following the hound, eventually it led him to the town well and the woman who’d led the hunt.

She explained that time passed at a different rate where they had struck their deal, and that more than two months had passed since the gnolls first attack. The deal she had offered had taken this into account, she had made no promise to save his wife, family or friends, only to stop the gnolls. This she had done.

Her end of the deal was fulfilled, now there was just the matter of how he was to serve her and her hunt. She explained that a hunt always needed good hounds, ones that took a joy in the hunt and revelled in the act of bringing down prey. These attributes she had seen in Felix when he’d attacked the gnolls, she was sure he’d make a good hound under her whip.

It was with a sour face that she explained he had been spared this particular fate for now, instead another of the hunt had claimed him by dint of blood, though why a respected member of the hunt would admit to the shame of having fathered a child amidst the human animals was beyond her, no matter how long ago it had been. This member of the hunt now owed her a favour, in return Felix was to be granted a modicum of the Hunts powers to use as directed by members of the hunt and unseelie court. He was still bound by his pact to serve her, only the nature had changed, she had no doubt that he would quickly prove himself worthless and be stripped of his powers and bound instead to serve the hunt as a hound until she grew tired of him.

In the time since entering into the pact with the Hunt’s Mistress Felix has learned to use and channel the powers granted to him, becoming what is commonly known as a Feylock or Warlock. The wild and unpredictable nature of the power provided by the Unseelie host has taken a toll on Felix, slowly freezing his heart and changing him from the loving family man he once was to a charismatic but cruel manipulator of people and emotions. Recently he has been tasked with aiding the Temple of Auril in Sundren to irritate Titania, Aurils sister, and harass the goodly fey of the Valley including the faithful of Sune.