Characters for "Into the Icy Darkness"

This follows along with the still evolving story thread "..or How I Rescued the Son of a Noble" in the Story Forum.

The game takes place in a home made world, centered around the city of Holstean and its ruling Countess. Among the denizens of Holstean one would find many humans, halflings and dwarves, along with priests of all the major religions and one home brewed one (Tarantor, God of Law... Lawful Good, domains of War, Knowledge, Protection and Strength).

These are the characters from the first game I've ever DMed, and which so far seems very fun for all involved. I'll let the players post their character stats and backstories when they want, but for now, here are hte NPCs and the backstories that hte characters would know about them... the players can post their stats as well (some of the NPCs have some surprises that I'd rather not reveal ):


Hidalas Marengo
Age: 40; Male Human Cleric 8 of Taranor; LN

DESCRIPTION:
Hidalas is about 5'7" tall, and close to 145 pounds. While he is stronger than average, he isn't chiseled... nor is he particularly good looking. In fact, several sword scars are on his chest and back from his days in the front lines of combat. His brown eyes are usually rather quiet, though they tend to flame with energy when he talks about his charge Lucius. When he gets particularly animated (usually when Lucius has not done his studies, or when he found out about Lucius and SIabrey's relations) his long black hair tends to fly about.

BACKSTORY:

Within the HolY Santoric Empire (or just the Empire, as it is known), there exists a breed of cleric that is unlike any other. Unlike the clerics of some other faiths, who are content to be healers and spiritual guides, some clerics of the god Tarantor (Lawful Neutral god of Law) have expanded their repetoire to include defending the Holy Law by force. These clerics have progressed to become a force to be reckoned with, known across the Human lands for their helmets with a single ostrich feather rising from the front; the war clerics.

Hidalas is now a little older than thirty, and is reckoned as one of the more experienced war clerics within the temple of Tarantor in Holstean. Just as any temple, however, there are politics involved, and for undisclosed reasons he was pulled from duties escorting and blessing travelers back to the main complex in the province within the city of Holstean.

His battlefield prowess had fortunately made him allies elsewhere, and he quickly found himself appointed to tutor Lord Lucius, son of Countess Lucilda. He has proven a less than perfect teacher; he is rather harsh on the boy, demanding perfection in every way and shape according to his rules. When Siabrey, for example, began showing the boy her own sword techniques, he reacted rather angrily.

At times he can be brash or a boor without realizing it... the only ones he watches his tongue around are the Countess and his other clerics. Somehow he hasn't offended the Countess yet, but his mouth has touched many others unfortunately. Despite these shorcomings, he is an aggressive and valiant fighter, who understands not only the neccessity of striking and killing, but also of healing and mending.

Hidalas uses the favored weapon of the war clerics of Tarantor, a longsword. He's clad in scale armor, and has the reaction speed of "a turtle" (as one derisive commentator put it. His skillful swordplay, however, somewhat makes up for this deficiency.

Update:

Hidalas recently accompanied his charge north on a search to find a missing family diamond that could power a staff to destroy the orc problem in Holstean. Along the way, he and the party managed to save a town. However, Hidalas had major concerns once he found out the town's icy attacker possessed the diamond in question.

He rode to Kulloden, where his worst fears, that the diamond and the staff held by the Countess of Holstean were evil, were confirmed. An assassin nearly took HIdalas' life in Kulloden only days later, and the party visited him while he was bedridden, where he told them of the ongoing plot. When a raiding party came to try and quickly seize Kulloden, Hidalas was on the ramparts helping defend the city.

Lord Lucius Caladron II
Age: 16; Male Human Sorc8/Ftr2 CG


DESCRIPTION: Lucius is a very tall (6'0") and lanky (172 pounds) 16 year old scion of a royal line that is just beginning to discover his sorcerers powers. His eyes are emerald green, a face that is developing into that of a chiseled man, and formerly a long mane of red hair. Since then, his hair has been cut short, and now instead of rather mundance armor, he wears his father's noble armor; a set of glistening fullplate, replete with an eagle crest and an outstretched eagle across the breastplate... and more importantly, modified to allow him to cast his spells while armored. He tends to vary in his moods; when around his beloved Siabrey he can be calm, compassionate, and even humorous. When in battle, he varies from cool indifference, to a terrible rage that is fatal to those who caused it.

BACKSTORY:
Much doubt remains about the continued existence of the Caladron family line, which over hte past hundred years has withered and died. Lucius, the single child of Countess Lucilda, remains the sole surviving heir of the powerful and once numerous family.

Lucius is an enigma... sometimes he can be a teenager, brash and bold, while other times, especially in the presence of others he feels are better than him, he grows quiet and reclusive. Having grown up in a world where a noble's first goal is to defend his people from goblins, he is eager to take a sword against these foes. However, as his teacher Hidalas will tell you, his sword play is... "erratic."

He can be a cheerful boy, and eagerly takes to learning. He insisted that Hidalas bring several books along in addition to the usual weapons practicing kit, and Lucius has been caught several times reading by campfirelight when he was supposed to be on watch. He also seems genuinely fond of Siabrey and Tesseron. HE's rather neutral to Rogar, and he finds Hidalas his teacher "quite annoying."

In addition, as with his mother, Lucius has magic running through his veins. He is too young to full understand his abilities, or his magic weaknesses, though he is greatly interested and has insisted that a "magic primer" be brought along so he can practice "interesting things," while on the road.

He was still learning the ropes of warfare when at 16 he was told to join a secret mission to find a lost and reputedly powerful magic diamond. The only humans who could bear said diamond had to be from the Caladron family... so now he is "learning on the job." His recent eagerness for battle was somewhat whetted as his band destroyed a strange group of kobolds (who had bluish tinges), and later a few hobgoblins and their giant bluish spider cohorts. Lucius also had his first "loss of breakfast" on a battlefield, after slashing open the largest spiders belly revealed the quite grisly remains of several humans turned to goo.

Lucius' favorite weapon is a bastard sword, which he wields one handed. His natural swing with the heavy weapon is excellent, partially due to his size (he's only 15, but he's almost six feet tall). The raw skills to be a formidable swordsman are there, they merely need extensive polishing to make them shine.

UPDATE:

Siabrey and Lucius had been quietly, carefully eyeing each other since they first met soon after Lucius was rescued by the young red eyed woman and her comrades. Lucius was intrigued by Siabrey's good looks, exotic features (copper skin, red eyes) and combative, though well intentioned, nature.

As he rode with her through the next week, his interest grew to infatuation, something that gave rise to darker things in him.

Lucius' family has long held a unique connection to the planes of magic, and Lucius himself is no exception. However, he is young, and his magical abilities are far from polished... they tend to explode outwards when he is under stress or fear. When Siabrey came under attack by an enormous spider, Lucius' darker side first came to the front, when he cast cause fear and scared the spider into fleeing the battle.

As the party went further, now hunting a demon that held the diamond they needed, Lucius' infatuation with Siabrey grew, and he noticed she was looking at him as well. HE tried to keep himself to just taking care of her, but found himself under more and more pressure to go beyond that. His crush bloomed into something even more after both nearly died fighting the demon Ananias, and Lucius' paralysis after Rogar's betrayal of the party... they finally admitted their caring for each other in Kulloden.

In the meantime, Lucius also had to deal with the increasing evidence that his mother was mounting a rebellion against the Empire and had turned evil, and that his entire world was destroyed. He foud himself declared the Count of Holstean, and forced to raise an army to fighting his own flesh and blood. Several times this stress led him to near breakdown, but Siabrey was by his side, keeping him strong. As he grew more unstable, his darker powers become more evident: he used bloodleech on the demon Ananias after it hurt Siabrey, and he drowned several assassins in their own blood when they did the same.

More harrowing adventures ensued as assassins attacked the party, and forced them to flee, as Lucius finally admitted to himself that he loved Siabrey, and he realized she was the one stable thing left in his life. His opponents are slowly realizing that to get to him, they must get through her...

UPDATE II:

Siabrey and Lucius have now admitted their love for each other, even as the pull from the abyssal magic in Lucius' veins grows stronger. When his friends or Siabrey are hurt in combat, his fright instincts take over, and dark magic pours forth; in his most recent incidents, he drowned several assassins in their own blood, and unconsciously ripped an orc's hand off of its arm, and then used the bloody ruin of an appendage to choke the orc to death.

Siabrey, and the others, have also noticed that his skin appears hot to the touch, and there are times where his eyes just don't look right. Lucius is trying hard to fight off the powers within him that want control, but it is a steadily losing battle. Unless the party can retrieve an ancient sword that might calm his soul, they might lose him...


Rogar Mithras
Age: 42; Rog?/Ass ? CE

DESCRIPTION: Rogar is average sized, around 5'6" in height, and around 135 pounds. He has a rakish black goatee and long, curling locks of black hair to go around his rather handsome face and blinding teeth. HE gives off an aura of someone that can be trusted... and yet someone that cannot...

BACKSTORY:
Rogar is somewhat of an enigma. When the party first ran into him, he was trying to become involved in the search for the then missing Lucius. HE obviously has roguish abilities (he's already unlocked some items, and derisively showed off a pearl necklace he pilfered from the Countess' Palace, while inside the Countess' Palace.

He's a greying man, obviously near or past 40, but his skills remain very sharp, as does his wit. He favors a rapier as his weapon of choice, though he tends to be rather direct in battle with "mundane" foes. The party knows that Rogar at some point saved the Countess' life a long time ago, hence the fondness between the two. Other than that, Rogar remains a mystery.

UPDATE:

Unbeknownst to the party, Rogar Mithras is a master assassin, and bastard brother to the Countess LUcilda, and is in her service. He betrayed the party after they fought the demon Ananias, and now leads the hunt for them with his wife Ilia (also a master assassin) and their son Shivalas. His reputation is so powerful that he is not known by his regular name, only by the handles of his victims.

So far, he has yet been unable to catch Lucius and the party, yet he remains a vicious and implacable foe.

Tesseron Keldare
Tesseron the Harper
Tess

Female Bard 14 (Monte Cook variant bard from Book of Eldritch Might II: Songs and Souls of Power)

Region: Frozen Tundras
Patron Deity: Corellon Latharian, Fharlanghn
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Height: 5'8”
Weight: 134 lbs
Hair: Golden blonde
Eyes: Emerald green
Age: 22

Str: 8 (-1)
Dex: 13 (+1)
Con: 11 (+0)
Int: 12 (+1)
Wis: 11 (+0)
Cha: 18 (+4) (+2 level increase, +2 from earrings of Charisma)

Class and Racial Abilities:
+4 skill points at first level and +1 skill point for each additional level.
Extra feat at 1st level
No favored class

Bardic Knowledge (+18 to the check)
Weave Notes (expand two spellnotes to increase duration or range, DC, or damage of one spellnote)
Spellsongs
Weave Chords (same effects as above, except on chords)
Evasion

Hit Dice: 14d6
HP: 59
AC: 16 (+1 Dex, +5 armor)
Init: +1 (+1 Dex)
Speed: 30ft

Saves:
Fortitude +5 [+4 base, +1 from cloak]
Reflex +11 [+9 base, +1 Dex, +1 from cloak]
Will +10 [+9 base, +1 from cloak]

BAB: +10/+5
Melee Atk: +9/+4
Melee weapon: +10/+5 to atk, 1d4-1+1 +1d6 electricity dmg, 19-20/x2, with Fa'rallan (+1 shocking intelligent dagger)
Ranged Atk: +11/+6
Ranged weapon: +12/+7 to atk, 1d6+1 dmg (+9/+4 to akt, 1d6+2 to dmg within 30 ft.), 20/x3, with Harp Bow (Fortuna)

Skills:
Appraise +10 [9 ranks, +1 Int]
Bluff +13 [8 ranks, +5 Cha]
Diplomacy +15 [10 ranks, +5 Cha]
Gather Information +15 [10 ranks, +5 Cha]
Knowledge (arcana) +18 [17 ranks, +1 Int]
Knowledge (architecture & engineering) +2 [1 rank, +1 Int]
Knowledge (geography) +2 [1 ranks, +1 Int]
Knowledge (history) +2 [1 ranks, +1 Int]
Knowledge (local) +2 [1 ranks, +1 Int]
Knowledge (nature) +2 [1 ranks, +1 Int]
Knowledge (nobility & royalty) +8 [7 ranks, +1 Int]
Knowledge (the planes) +2 [1 ranks, +1 Int]
Knowledge (religion) +2 [1 ranks, +1 Int]
Listen +16 [16 ranks, +0 Wis]
Perform +24 [17 ranks, +5 Cha, +2 from masterwork harp]
Pick Pocket +9 [3 ranks, +1 Dex, +5 from Filcher’s Friend ring]
Sense Motive +9 [9 ranks, +0 Wis]
Spot +8 [16 cross-class ranks, +0 Wis]

Feats:
Obscure Lore (from Song and Silence, adds to bardic knowledge checks)
Accompaniment (from BoEM II, allows one to play in magical silence)
Point Blank Shot (+1 to attack and damage with a ranged weapon while within 30 feet)
Intensify Song (from BoEM II, allows one to increase spellnote/chord/melody damage with successful Perform check)
Vivify Song (from BoEM II, allows one to increase DC of spellnote/chord/melody with successful Perform check)
Amplify Song (from BoEM II, allows one to increase duration of spellnote/chord/melody with successful Perform check)

Languages
Common, Halfling

Spells

Spellnotes
14 spellnotes per day, DC 16

Burst of Speed
Cushion Fall
Inspire Courage
Minor Healing
Misdirected Sound
Momentary Disappearance
Momentary Protection
Personal Knowledge
Songstrike
Sonic Dart
Sonic Stab
True Language
Whisper

Spellchords
10 spellchords per day, DC 18

Create Object
Heal Wound
Levitation Chord
Oathchord
Recall Tale
Sense Auras
Sense Lies
Swift Song

Spellmelodies
2 spellmelodies per day, DC 20

Disrupt Body
Song of Vitrification

Equipment:

Wearing:
Courtier’s outfit (with 50 gp worth of jewelry), green and gold leathers and linen, with gold and emerald jewelry.
Earrings of Charisma +2 – as per cloak of Charisma +2, appears as tasteful emerald earrings.
+1 glammored chain shirt
+1 cloak of resistance
Filcher’s Friend ring – from Arms and Equipment guide, adds +5 to Pick Pocket checks for metallic objects.
Ring of elemental resistance, major
Harper's Pin - as ring of mind shielding
Ring of wishes - two wishes left, carried in inner vest pocket.
Fortuna – harpbow, a +1 shortbow in the form of a masterwork harp.
20 arrows in a quiver
Belt pouch – contains 20 gp, 9 sp, 8 cp, and a small steel mirror
Two daggers in wrist sheaths
1 silver dagger in a boot sheath
Fa'rallan on belt sheath
Magical red rose that always smells sweet

On Sunshine (light palomino mare)
Bit and bridle
Riding saddle
Saddlebags

Tied to saddle
Waterskin
Wineskin full of rose wine
50 ft. hemp rope

Backpack (tent tied to outside of backpack)
In Backpack attached to back of Sunshine’s saddle
2 different entertainer’s outfits, one red, one yellow
Courtier’s outfit in blue with sapphire jewelry
Midnight blue gown, with emerald tiara, necklack, rings, and earrings, good enough to wear to a Countess’ ball
Tastefully cut adventurer’s clothes
1 sack full of 800gp
Bedroll
Potion of glibness
7 Potions of cure light wounds
1 Potion of cure moderate wounds
Potion of delay poison
Potion of Charisma
4 alchemist's fire bullets

Right saddlebag
20 arrows in quiver
Personal grooming kit (brush, comb, soap, washcloth, nail file)
Horse grooming kit (currycomb, brush, hoofpick)
Magnifying glass in protective pouch
4 sunrods

Left saddlebag
14 days worth of trail rations
3 sacks, one of which contains 800gp and 10pp.
Whetstone
Mess kit (pot, bowl, plate, utensils, etc.)
Spices and seasonings (packets of salt, basil, sage, cinnamon, etc.)

Total Money: 20pp, 958gp, 9sp, 8cp


Appearance:
Tesseron is tall for a woman, well built with a generous figure. Her long golden hair is usually braided around her head, with allowances for current fashion trends. Her clothes are always of impeccable taste, with a fair amount of jewelry, and she usually carries her harp, Fortuna, at her side at all times.

When not adventuring she tends to wear a courtier’s outfit or an entertainer’s outfit, whichever is appropriate for the venue, always with a tasteful amount of jewelry. She prefers emeralds above all stones, as they match her eyes.

Personality:
Tesseron is a fairly cheerful person, always willing to share her music to whomever will hear it. A free spirit who has truly discovered the pleasures of the open road, she’s become more disdainful of authority, or more precisely oppressive authority, as time goes on.

She has a silver tongue and is rather good with people. She tends to talk to people in all walks of life easily, being able to fit in at many social levels. Tesseron adores dressing people up, and considers herself to be somewhat of an expert on fashion. She’s never happier than when she’s dressing for a party or helping someone else do so.

However, she’s hardly a frail court flower. Tesseron has spent some time on the road and isn’t afraid to fight back and even take someone’s life if they mean to kill her. She’s not particularly squeamish, as a bard must know a story in all of its gory detail, whether or not she finds it personally tasteful. In battle, she uses her spells or Fortuna, her harpbow, to attack. “Feel the sting of Fortuna’s song!” is a cry she’s often used in battle.

Background:

Born in the northern part of the Empire during a rare fine spring day, Tesseron was a joy to those around her from the first. A golden-haired child with a sunny disposition and a clever mind, Tesseron was well liked by those in her town. Though she was never strong enough to follow the full warrior tradition of her mother and brothers, she found she was fairly good at studying strange lore with her father, Jongar Keldare.

Her father’s leg had been crippled in battle, and he now kept the family books for their bodyguarding business. He also found he had a great deal of time to read, and so tempered Tesseron’s lessons with her mother with a great deal of book-learning. Tesseron’s mother, Kelsa Keldare, was a famed swordswoman, but also a good hand at archery. In hopes of making sure Tesseron could protect herself when she traveled, she taught her daughter the way of the bow. Between both sets of lessons, Tesseron would go to one of the local inns to hear the various traveling bards play, which became her secret pleasure.

She was fascinated by some of the bards she would hear play, as she recognized some of the tales in their ballads and songs from her history lessons. To hear them put to music was wonderful indeed. Taking her own carefully hoarded money, she went to one of the bards to beg for lessons. Her name was Melora, and she was a traveling harpist. Recognizing Tesseron’s clever fingers and good ear were well suited for her instrument, she taught her the way of the harp. What was even more impressive to Melora was the fact that Tesseron was knowledgeable in the ways of magic, and soon began drawing power out of her music that Melora had never dreamed of.

When Tesseron came of age, she was sent on her way with her parent’s blessings. They had been mightily impressed that she had the power of magic, though just nervous enough that they were perhaps just a tad too quick in agreeing it was time for her to travel and see the world.

Tesseron has been traveling for just over two years, seeing many new towns and different terrains. She’s picked up lots of interesting information and odd tidbits, picked up a couple tricks from other mage-bards on how to make her magic more potent, and been keeping up with her archery. She’s even managed to have a harpbow made, in order that she look like less of a threat while still retaining the ability to cause some surprise.

She’s also picked up a few tricks and pointers from those in less than savory professions, to help her out when times are lean. She can do a few small sleight-of-hand tricks, but she’s also not entirely a stranger to picking pockets. She always picks targets that look like they can afford to lose a gold or two to a hungry bard, never anyone that looks in need themselves. A few times she’s also used those talents to do a bit of “redistributing” of the wealth.

Siabrey Background Story

Hello everyone I play Siabrey on this game thread, DMed by Emperor Valerian, a wonderful DM (and friend I might add )

http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?p=1255371#post1255371

He has been bugging me for a while now to get my background story completed. Part of what took so long was the length, second was that I had some difficulty writing the dialogue scenes. So, without further ado, here is Siabrey's background story... Enjoy


Part I: Kelir

The desert was particularly beautiful tonight. The rosy glow of the sun cradled in the distant hills washed the sandy hollows, painting them the same color as the Kabash flowers that grew there. The sight was lost upon Kelir Fruros as he flew slowly, his bare feet inches from copper-colored sand the same hue as his skin. Arms hanging limply at his sides, his eyes unconsciously followed the trail of a sand skipper, one of the brightly-colored lizards that particularly frequented this area of the desert, due to the safety of the sun cliffs that rose up into the darkening sky a short ways to the north.

The trail ended abruptly in a small scattering of scales and small patches of dried blood. Kelir turned away, the site of a normal occurrence somehow disgusting him. Fly a few feet further he reached the edge of his territory. Beyond, the dunes grew gradually smaller until they vanished altogether, and then a flat yellow wasteland that no siabrie claimed for his own. Beyond that lay the town. The human town.

Kelir turned away abruptly, angry with himself. Every day, somehow without intending to, he ended up at this very spot. It was almost as though something was pulling him away from his home, out into the unknown lands.

But why? He mused, as he flew up to seat himself on the edge of the cliffs. The few lizards that continued to sun themselves on the burning rocks scuttled aside to make room for their lord. He paid them no heed, except to notice that one of his favorites, a particularly striking female with a white-tipped nose, was no where in sight. A brief tug at his heart made him think back to be sure that there were no white scales among the remains of the dead lizard he had seen a short while ago.

Settling into his favorite thinking position, perched precariously on the crumbling rocks, head supported by his long willowy arms, wings folded half-way, he once again tried to search out the source of his unhappiness.

There was no reason for him to be unhappy. He owned one of the largest stretches of desert this side of the cliffs, there were no other siabrie for several hundred miles. The closest one was a young male, only several hundred years old, to the northeast who particularly delighted in throwing up huge sandstorms and reshaping the dunes every decade or so. Kelir was much older, and much wiser, and delighted in the simpler things. He had lived to see a thousand year's end sunsets, and would most likely live to see several thousand more. Humans were the only species foolhardy enough to venture this deep into the desert, and the ones that did, seeking treasure or adventure, were quickly dispatched by Kelir’s more violent cousins, such as his neighbor to the northeast. In short, Kelir had not seen nor spoken to another being since his neighbor’s birth 300 years ago. He normally enjoyed being alone with nothing but his lizards and the few other creatures in the area for company.

But now. Kelir closed his burning red eyes with sadness. His insides ached for something that he did not understand, and he could no longer sleep. The pain grew so bad that at times he had to fly as high as he could, screaming his suffering to the sky. After such times, he felt an emptiness that would not be filled, no matter how much he ate or drank.

A soft cheeping noise near his elbow made him glance up. Emerging from one of the larger lizard holes was a magnificently colored female lizard whose white snout stood in stark relief to the crimson toned cliffs.

Kelir sighed with relief, and lowered long fingers to stroke the female gently. His delicate fingertips felt the smooth hardness beneath her skin, and he remembered her mate, a small, light-yellow male whose orange eyes betrayed his worship of his mate. He was nowhere in sight, so presumably he must be below, preparing the nest for the eggs soon to come.

“Be sure that thou does no go out unto the sands, pretty one. One of thine chamber-mates was killed today.” The female cocked her heads at the siabrie’s words, but of course did not understand. She withstood the stroke of his fingers for a few more seconds before scuttling over to the nearest rock and spreading her bulk over its sun-warmed surface. The heat would help the eggs come faster and easier. Her mate abruptly stuck his head out of the nearest burrow and chiped at her as if to say “It’s getting dark, come inside.” She chiped back at him, flicking her tail towards Kelir. The siabrie chuckled and motioned with his hand towards the male. “Do not worry, I will watch over thine mate and children. No flying deamon will take them this night.”
The male did not understand, but he knew that no danger would come to those on the cliff top as long as their lord was there. He too scuttled out and perched next to his mate, his teeth and claws grooming her already immaculate scales.

Watching them, Kelir felt the void within him grow. His wings twitched, aching to take him away from the familiar sight that had somehow become so painful. He had promised to stay however, and any promise, even to a lizard, should be kept. Settling in, he turned his gaze to the sky, eyes watchful for the dark brown shapes of the hawks that hunted the sand skippers.

After a few minutes, the lizards were done sunning, and went below, the female pausing to give Kelir a quick flick of thanks with her tail. The touch burned on his skin, and as he watched the pair disappear into the tunnels, a dawn of understanding grew upon him. He remembered a speech by one of his elders when he was just as a boy at one of the rare tribe meetings, a siabrie so old that his skin had turned the white of sand that has been polished by the sun for countless ages.

Very rarely, the elder had said, when there has been a lull of invaders, and the weather has been pleasant, and each day pretty much the same as the next, year after year, a siabrie may begin to feel inside himself a longing that he has no name for, a longing that can only be settled by the deepest of intimacies with another living being. Kelir had thought the idea silly at the time; he loved being alone, as did all of his kind.

But now. Kelir stood, realizing that he had become lost in his memories. Spreading his wings he began to fly towards the caves in the cliffs that he called home. Halfway there however, he paused, and began to fly straight up. Higher and higher he flew, till the air began to get cold and harder to breathe. He strained to go a little bit higher till, there, off in the distance, a white light shone like a jewel, the town that he had thought of earlier. Watching that light, Kelir imagined the human’s town, which he had only heard described to him by other siabrie. His mind wandered down the dingy streets and he pictured the pale fleshy humans with their dull colors and dim-witted minds. Suddenly, a flash caused his imagined self to turn, and before him stood the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. With skin like smooth white sand, eyes that reflected the sky, and hair that swirled like the rainbow-colored lizard female he had made friends with. She turned and looked at him, brilliant blue eyes filled with love and joy. Then she smiled, and he felt as though his heart would stop. He reached for her and she for him, and as their fingers touched, a lightness and warmth spread through Kelir from his head down to the tips of his toes.

With a jerk, he came awake, his limbs numb from the cold. Realizing with a start that night had fully fallen and that he had been hovering up there for hours, he dove towards the ground, gasping as his lungs sucked up his beloved desert-warmed air. Veering slightly towards the right he made it home in only a few short minutes. Making his way through the zigzagging entrance hall, he made straight for his bedchamber and collapsed onto the pile of sand that served as his bed. His mind was awhirl with what had just happened. He had never heard of such a thing happening before to one of his kind, but then again, thinking back to his mental journey through the human town, he knew that if anyone had had such an experience, they would have most likely kept it to themselves for fear of being thought mad.

Maybe he was mad, Kelir though. Maybe the pain had finally driven him insane. But thinking back to his visionary angel, her multi-colored hair swirling before his eyes, the pain in his chest lessened, and instead there grew a feeling as warm as any sand dune he had ever placed foot upon. The warmth grew until it felt as though a fire was scorching him and he couldn’t breathe. If he could but touch that hair, he knew he would never feel empty again. If he could but look into her eyes again, he would always be happy. Sitting up with a sudden resolve in his eyes, he knew what he had to do. He didn’t know how, but he had to find that woman, that angel with hair the color of a sand skipper’s scales. Laying back down he felt a smile, the first smile he had had in a long time, creep across his lips. For the first time since he didn’t know when, he was able to sleep.


Part II: Stodiana

"Barkeeper, another round here please."
"Are you sure, my lady? You've already had three pints."
“I can handle it.” Stodiana tossed another silver onto the table. The bartender, his business sense outstriding his concern, eagerly grabbed it up. “Of course, my lady.” He gave a rough half-bow, and hastened behind the bar to fill her order.

Stodiana blew her multi-colored hair out of her eyes exasperatedly. These commoners acted as if they’d never seen a royal. Still though, she mused, settling back in her chair and swirling her half-empty mug, they were decent enough folk, especially since she’d dispatched that fiery sandhog that had been sulking around close to town and digging up the townsfolk’s crops. And the bounty she’d gotten for dispatching the beast would more than make up for her expenditures here.

The barkeep hurried over and placed another ale in front of her. She thanked him with a courteous nod and turned to gaze out of the floor to ceiling glass windows that lined the entire eastern side of the Red Sands Inn. The glass must have cost a pretty penny, but rumor stated that when the sun set, the glass allowed a spectacular view of the desert as the dying rays of the sun turned the room red. That was one of the reasons that she had chosen this inn to stay in. Gazing out at the shimmering shifting sands, Stodiana let her mind drift back over how she had ended up in this tiny town at the edge of the largest desert in the Empire.

She had been born Stodiana Sipner, daughter of a wealthy lord and lady who owned lands down by the coast. Her parents were distantly related to the noble bloodline, and so their daughter enjoyed all the privileges that a woman of her stature should. Fine clothes, servents to attend to her every need, and loving parents who did everything they could to make their only daughter happy. However, Stodiana had no siblings, and no friends her own age. Constantly being around the dry and tiresome older friends of her parents made her restless, and she often sought out the company of her parent’s private weaponsmith. He took delight in teaching the headstrong young girl the ways of the blade, and her parents consented to Stodiana’s desire to learn to fight. Unlike most nobles, they were open-minded folk, with no desire to contain their spirited daughter’s unusual desires.

Stodiana became skilled in many weapons, but her favorite by far was the katana. She learned the art of forging and eventually made her own blade, a shinning piece of work folded over 200 times that had taken her an entire day and night to forge. Practicing constantly with her new weapon wasn’t enough however, and she became even more restless. Her parents, always having known that their daughter was not cut out for a noble’s life, encouraged her to go adventuring. And so, on the eve of her 18 birthday, Stodiana had left her family’s estate by the sea with a mere 10 gold in her belt pouch, and her katana strapped to her side.

She traveled to the nearest town and entered a small inn looking for a room for the night. Luck or perhaps the gods had steered her to the right place, because the next morning she found that a note had been slipped under her door, stating that the captain of the town watch had noticed the pretty young girl with the sharp blade the night before, and was wondering if she’d like to help rid the town of the particularly nasty menace of a nuchlavis, in return for a few gold.

And that was how she’d ended up here. She was a mercenary by trade, but with a very strict moral code. She refused to kill humans for money, preferring to wander around dispatching troublesome vermin when she encountered them. She had wandered along the coast for a good five years, before traveling up farther into the heart of the Empire. She had heard from a fellow traveler on the road about the sandhog, and had decided to investigate.

Upon entering town that morning, she learned that the sandhog was a particularly large and vicious razorback who had recently begun to prefer tearing up the villagers’ gardens as opposed to foraging in the desert with his pack. When Stodiana had faced it, it chose to burrow underground and somehow caused the sand around her to flow like water. She had avoided becoming trapped, and when the beast had resurfaced near her, she hack off its four trunks with one blow from her katana. Seriously hurt, the beast had attempted to flee, but she finished it off with a well-placed arrow.

The townsfolk had paid her well, but that was not the reason she had chosen to stay in the village for a while longer. Something about the desert fascinated her. She had been born within a stone’s throw of the sea, yet its constant pounding waves had never stirred any feelings in her. Now though, gazing out at the endless expanse of burning sands, she felt something come alive inside her chest. The distant mountains were visable as a smudge on the horizon, and the sun was just beginning to slip into their dark embrace. The glare off the sands was terrible, throwing up all sorts of heat waves.

Stodiana’s imagination drifted and she thought that she saw part of the sands stand up, and begin moving toward the town. It took her a few minutes to realize that her imagination was not playing tricks with her. Something out in the desert was moving, and it was getting closer by the second. She jumped to her feet and ran out the inn door, ignoring the curious query from the bartender.

The sands began only a few feet from the inn’s door, and she stood there for a moment, watching as the shape grew nearer and nearer. The setting sun clocked the figure in black, prevented her from determining much more than it was humanoid. It wasn’t until the figure was about fifty feet away that the sun slipped enough behind the mountains that she was able to distinguish details. What she saw caused her to gasp. A beautiful human male stood there, long golden blonde hair that hung down past his waist contrasted with his dark copper-colored skin. He was dressed only in a sand-colored loincloth, but the most striking thing about him was his eyes. They were colored like the most beautiful of desert sunsets, and contained the same whisper of timelessness that the desert itself spoke. His eyes looked as if they had seen all that the world had to offer, as well as the promises yet to come.

Stodiana laid her hand on her katana and readied herself for battle should the newcomer turn out to be unpleasent. Inside, the warrior part of her mind was screaming at her to move, to attack, that this thing was some sort of desert elemental and would kill her the first chance it got. Some other, quieter part of her mind urged her to be still. He had not made any threatening movements yet.

Indeed, he just stood there, gazing at her, for several long minutes. Then suddenly, he lifted one long-fingered hand and said a word that made Stodiana think of wind whispering over the sand dunes. She braced herself for the attack that she was sure was coming. Surprisingly, nothing happened. The man frowned, then said another word, this one reminding Stodiana of fire crackling. Again, nothing happened, and Stodiana realized that neither word had contained any malice. Rather, the man tried to be speaking to her. Relaxing her grip on her sword, she took one step into the desert. Its heat seared up at her, yet she fought to remain still. Lifting one hand, she raised it in a salute.

“Hello.” The word seemed to hang in the air between them. The man frowned again, then tilted his head, and opened his mouth. “Hay….low.” The man shook his head, then tried again. “He…low. Hellow. Hello.” He nodded. “Hello.” Stodiana gasped.
The man stepped forward, then said another word. It sounded like “Kelir.” He said the word again, then pointed at himself. Stodiana understood in a second. “Oh, your name is Kelir.” The man nodded, then pointed to her. Stodiana pointed to herself and said her name clearly. “Stodiana.”
“Stodiana.” He repeated. The sound of her name coming out of this creature’s mouth sent a flurry of heat to her stomach.
“Stodiana,” She said, pointing to herself, then pointed to him “Kelir.”
“Kelir,” he returned, “Stodiana.” Then he smiled, and Stodiana felt as though her heart would stop. She smiled back.

Kelir was in something like a trance. Within seconds of reaching the human town he had found his angel. She looked just like she did in his vision, long hair infused with every color he had ever seen framing a face with skin as smooth and as white as his sand-skipper’s nose. He had never seen skin of such a color, and longed to touch it, and run his fingers through those long colored strands. He refrained however, and settled down to learning her language. It was a complicated one, but he was a fast learner. By the time the sun had set, he knew enough to be able to communicate with some ease.

By this time, they had attracted quite a crowd, but neither Kelir nor Stodiana seemed to notice. The barkeeper of the Red Sands Inn was quite an intelligent fellow, and he had heard stories of beings like Kelir. They were called “Siabrie” and were the fiercest protectors of the desert. Occasionally one came into a nearby village. They never stayed long, and they never seemed to cause any trouble, so the barkeep said nothing. He merely cleaned the bar to an extra fine sheen, and set out his best glassware. He was rewarded when the couple entered and chose a table alone in the corner, Stodiana with her back to the desert and the man facing her. The barkeep worked to keep all other patrons away from the pair, and kept his own distance as well. In essence, he was housing two nobles tonight.

He brought them the best food he had; fresh homemade bread, fine red wine, and a newly roasted boar. On a whim, he had also sent for a load of fresh vegetables and brought those over to their table as well. Stodiana had thanked him without looking at him, but Kelir had turned fiery red eyes and regarded the barkeep curiously. Without quite knowing why, the barkeep had bowed as low as possible, and appologized to the man for the meager fare.

The golden-haired man had frowned for a few seconds, as if thinking, then said in slow but perfect Common that he had never tasted human food before. Stodiana had laughed at this softly, causing a look of extreme please to light the man’s face, before Stodiana had settled down to explaining the various foods to him and how to hold a fork and knife.

The barkeep backed away and watched them. Every time the man tasted a new bit of food, his face would go through a surprising array of emotions. He seemed unsure of the roasted meat, until Stodiana made snorting noises look a pig and gestured as if making a fire. Then the man understood and laughed as well.

As they ate their conversation gradually died, until, once they had finished eating, they both sat back in their chairs in complete silence. Kelir was gazing at her hair, trying in his mind to name every color he saw, when Stodiana spoke.

“I’m curious, what are you doing here? I don’t know anything about you, but you don’t strike me as the type to come strolling into town everyday.”

Kelir was both surprised and pleased by her statement. She was not foolish at all, something he had been dreading. Instead she had a very sharp mind. She had noticed instantly his unfamiliarity with human things, and what was more, it did not seem to bother her at all. Rather, her eyes were regarding him with something very like amused intrigue.

Kelir sat for several moments before deciding to answer. He would not lie to her. He never lied anyway, but he had a feeling she would have known instantly if he had. Feeling strangely nervous, Kelir leaned forward until their faces were only inches apart. “I am here because of you.” He said softly, voice wavering. “I have been alive for over a thousand years. Recently, I began to feel pain, here.” He motioned towards his chest. “I was strangely drawn towards this town, and then last night, suddenly, I had a vision of you.” Her eyes widened but she did not say anything. He continued, suddenly afraid, and his words came out in a rush. “I…I saw you walking down the street. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Seeing you…I felt happy. And I suddenly knew that if I could but touch you, see you in real life, that I would never be alone again.”

She drew back, shaking slightly. She seemed to get a hold of herself quickly though, because she drew in a deep breath and her hands steadied. It was several more minutes before she spoke though. It’s not everyday that you find out that a thousand year old desert being has fallen in love with you through a vision.

“What are you?” her voice was soft, and she was not looking at him as she spoke. She seemed worried, but not afraid. That cheered him. He had taken on the appearance of a human male, but he was still very unusual looking and he had been worried that she would be frightened. Quite the contrary, she had seemed very impressed by his physique, often letting her eyes slid over his body, something that he did not fail to notice. It caused a strange feeling in his gut, almost like being sick, but pleasant. He wanted it to happen again.

He waited a few seconds before answering. “I am a citizen of the desert. My kind are called the Siabrie.”

“Siabrie.” Stodiana rolled the name across her tongue as if tasting it. “And you are peaceful folk?”

“Some are. Some are not.” Kelir thought of his violent young neighbor. “Mostly we are protectors of the desert. We will not harm anyone who stays out of our lands.”

Stodiana glanced out him out of the corner of her eyes. “I can imagine what would happen when someone does visit your lands.” She went on before he could comment. “Nevermind that though.” She drew in another deep breath. “I take it you are not here to hurt me.”

Kelir gasped, astonished. “I could never hurt you!”

Stodiana looked at him for several long seconds before she smiled. “I thought so.” Standing, she pulled the pouch full of gold from her waist and tossed it at the barkeep. “Please take care of my horse and room for me. I’ll be back eventually.” Then taking an astonished Kelir by the hand, she led him out of the inn into the desert.

As soon as his feet touched the sands, Kelir felt better. The human’s structure hadn’t been such a bad place, but he much preferred the open sand and skies.

They walked for a while till the town passed out of sight behind a low rise. Dropping down, Stodiana hugged her knees to her chest and gazed out at the stars glittering over the endless espanse of sands. “Its beautiful.” She said after a few minutes. She continued as Kelir lowered himself to sit beside her. “You know, I was born near the ocean. Never liked it much, too cold and wet and loud. Here though, everything is peaceful, warm, quiet.” She lowered one hand to the sand and let it drift till it touched Kelir’s. He again felt that shuddering warmth in his gut, and shakingly encircled her hand in his. They sat for a long time, gazing at the stars and saying nothing, when Stodiana gave a slight shiver. “It’s getting cold, maybe we should go back.” Kelir thought for a moment, then reached over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Surprised, she looked at him. “You’re warm!” He smiled and pulled her against him, amazed at his own bravado. She lay in his arms a few minutes, then tilted her head back to look up at him. She was shaking slightly, but not from cold. The look in her eyes was as incomprehensible as the stars.

“Kelir…”

“Stodiana.” He whispered her name as their lips met. It was the first kiss of his life, and he never forgot it. Warm, and soft, yet with a firmness and a hunger that he had never known existed. Time passed in a dreamlike state. They fell to their sides on the sands, and their arms encircled each other. Neither had ever experienced the opposite sex, and their movements were clumsy, yet caring and gentle. Barely even aware of what he was doing, Kelir removed her clothing, then his own, and they lay gazing at each other.

“Kelir…” Stodiana reached out and stroked his chest.

“Shhh,” he ran his hands through her hair. “I won’t hurt you.”

“It’s not that.” She leaned back and glanced out across the sands. “Oh Kelir, this all feels so right. It’s just…I want to see you as you really are.”

Kelir smiled. “Done, my love.” With a noise like faint rippling of water, his skin shifted and melted like burning sand, and laying beside her was a creature more glorious than even the desert’s mystery. Kelir’s eyes, hair, and skin had remained the same, but he was now much taller and slimmer, with pointed fey ears and a fey’s chiseled face. The most incredible thing about him though, was the long pair of stained-glass wings that emerged from his back. Folded, they ran from his shoulders almost to his feet. Reaching out, Stodiana stroked them in gentle shock, and Kelir closed his eyes at the incredible feelings that ran down his spine.

Without words, their bodies closed in the starlight, and began to move as one.


Part III: Siabrey

“But Mooooooom.”

“No sweetie, you may not go swimming. You know that group of ruffians is still out there on the beach. What if they see your wings? You know perfectly well you can’t hide them in the water.”

Siabrey knew, and understood, but she still sulked. Stomping her foot, she ran out of her mother’s study down the hall to her room, blowing by one of the palace servants as she went.

Slamming her door, the six year-old jumped onto her bed and began crying softly. The loose tunic she always wore tangled up in her sheets and she tore it off angrily. By cranning her neck and looking over her shoulder, Siabrey could just see her wings poking through her undershirt, tiny shriveled buds that were barely 6 inches long. She focused on her back and made them twitch. Her anger grew then and she snarled at them. “Stupid, stupid, wings. Ugly, pointless, disgusting, wings.”

Burrying her head back in the pillow, the child began to cry again. Life was so unfair. She was never allowed to do the things she wanted to do. Her mother never let her roughhouse with the other children, for fear her wings would be discovered. She couldn’t go swimming in the ocean with them, she had to always be careful what she wore, and her mother always made her wear her long hair down, so it disguised the small lumps on her back. It had been like this for as long as Siabrey could remember. And what was worse! She couldn’t fly! The wings were absolutely useless.

A series of knocks at the door told her that her mom was outside. Stodiana always used a special series of knocks when she was coming in, to alert her child that it was ok to not hide her wings.

“Siabrey, honey, please don’t be upset. You know it’s for your own good.” Her mom called from outside the door. Still sniffling, Siabrey stood and unlocked the door for her mother before turning to flop on her bed again.

“I know mom. It’s all just so unfair.”

Stodiana sat on the bed and pulled her daughter into her lap. Stroking the long golden strands of her hair and gazing into Siabrey’s bright red eyes, so like her father’s, Stodiana felt a momentary pang. Still, she had to protect her daughter. The other local nobles had already began to talk. The story was spreading of how the Sipner’s daughter, after vanishing for five years without a trace, had arrived back at her parent’s home by the sea one stormy night, heavily pregnant, and gave birth to a strange copper-skinned child, whom she promptly named “Siabrey,” a name no one understood the origin of.

Growing up, Siabrey had always been different from the other children. Although bright and fast-learning, she had an attitude problem and refused to yield to any authority. Only her mother was able to keep the strong-willed child in check. And then there was the problem of her wings. Since birth, Stodiana had worked hard to distinguish the evidence of the most striking aspect of her father that Siabrey had inherited, for fear that her daughter would suffer persecution for being different, and possibly even be accused of being a demon.

Of course, her daughter did not see it this way. All the child knew was that she was unhappy, and the two odd appendages on her back were the cause.

Siabrey sniffed again and buried her head into her mother’s arms. “I hate my wings, mommy.”

Stodiana sighed softly and placed a finger under her daughter’s chin and lifted her face. “Don’t hate them sweetie. They are part of you. I know they’re a hassle now, but how knows, someday you may find some use for them.”

Siabrey snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Well….” Stodiana got a wicked grin. “We COULD always…tickle them off!” With that, she grabbed her daughter and began to tickle her ribs.

Siabrey shrieked with laughter. “No, mom, no!” Laughing, the two eventually settled down.

“Say, how about we go get some of those yummy cream pies that you like so much.” Stodiana smiled.

“Only if you have one too, mommy.” Siabrey, like so many children, had forgotten the source of the quarrel.

Stodiana smiled, “Ok.” and scooped up her daughter. “Ooof, you are getting heavy.”


Time passed, and Siabrey grew to be a strong, willowy 13-year old with a sharp tongue and a temper as fiery as her eyes. On this particular night, she was rampaging around her room. The servants had all fled to the other side of the castle, so there was no one to hear the curses that echoed down the hallway outside of the girl’s room. And if anyone had heard, they probably would have died from shock at hearing such language from a noble’s daughter.

Even Stodiana, who could normally control the girl’s outrageous behavior, could do nothing but stay out of the way until her daughter’s fury had subsided, for Siabrey had just been informed that she could not do the one thing that every girl her age dreamed of: date.

Siabrey stomped around her room, looking for something else to vent her frustration on. So far, a mirror, several books, and all the pillows on her bed bore evidence of the girl’s rage.

She paced the room, occasionally taking swipes at the air with the small silver dagger that she clutched in her hand.

“So unfair! All the other girls get to date. They’re probably all home right now getting dressed up for Ikbar’s party, while I have to sit here, even though Ikbar himself asked me to go! Just cause mom’s afraid. I hate these wings! I hate my skin! I hate my hair! I hate myself!” At this last pronunciation Siabrey flopped down onto her bed and sobbed into her shredded pillows. “I’ve never even worn a pretty dress.” she sniffed miserably.

A soft knock told Siabrey that her mother waited outside.

“Go away!” she yelled.

“Siabrey…..” her mother’s voice pleaded from the other side of the locked door.

“No! I hate you! Leave me alone!” there was silence for several minutes, then Siabrey heard her mother’s footsteps echoing slowly down the hallway. Oddly enough, the fact that her mother had, for once, done as she wished caused Siabrey’s tears to come even more.

“Fine then. Who needs her! Who needs any of this! I’m leaving!” Her face grew thoughtful, then stubborn. “Yeah, that’s right, I’m leaving!”

Eyes afire with a sudden new desperation, she set about finding a pillowcase that wasn’t ruined and throwing a few handfuls of clothes and her hairbrush into it, before sticking her dagger into her belt and heaving the makeshift travel pack over her shoulder. Unlocking her door, she glanced around to make sure the coast was clear and began to sneak down the hallway. Passing her mother’s room, she was surprised to see Stodiana sitting on her bed, her back to the open doorway, sobbing over something in her hands that Siabrey couldn’t see.

“Oh Kelir, I miss you so much at times like this. Siabrey is a beautiful child, but so strong willed. I just don’t know how I can control her temper anymore. She just doesn’t understand how much people hate that which is different. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Siabrey was startled. She had never heard her mother sound so forlorn. Dropping her runaway bag to the ground gently, she knocked on her mother’s doorframe. “Mom?”

Stodiana gasped and turned; whatever she was holding in her hands quickly vanished under the bedspread.

“Oh, Siabrey dear, I didn’t see you there…”

Siabrey could see the distant look in her mothers eyes, and took a step into the room. “What were you thinking about mom?” Stodiana didn’t answer so Siabrey took a guess. “Were you thinking about dad?” The unveiled look of pain and sorrow on her mother’s face was answer enough for Siabrey, who continued in a softer voice.

“Why do you never talk about him mom? Who was he?”

“He…” Stodiana’s eyes, though centered on her daughter’s face, were turned inward, lost in a memory. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Siabrey’s remaining anger deflated, she hated seeing her mother cry. Reaching out, she touched her mom’s arm gently. “Mom? Are you alright?”

Stodiana blinked, then smiled at her daughter. “It’s nothing dear. You know how much the memory of your father hurts me.”

“Maybe it’s because you never talk about him.” Siabrey grumbled.

Stodiana opened her mouth as if to retort, but her daughter cut her off.

“What were you looking at before I came in?”

Stodiana started replying instinctively. “Nothing…” before she paused. The way her daughter stood there, hair all disheveled, copper skin flushed from crying, yet her fiery eyes glowing with a fierce passion, had again caused Stodiana to flashback to memories of Kelir. She smiled softly, then her eyes widened in shock. She said, as if to herself. “Of course, why didn’t I see it before…”

Suddenly she reached out and grasped her daughter’s hands tightly in her own, eyes alit with their own passion. “Siabrey, why don’t you have a seat. I think it’s time that I showed you something.”

Siabrey did as her mother asked and sat, confused, on the edge of the bed. Stodiana turned and reached under the bedspread. What she drew forth caused Siabrey’s blood to quicken unexpectedly.

A shining sword, made in a style that she had never seen before, lay in her mother’s hands. Fully four and a half feet long, it had strange runes carved along the unsharpened edge, and the hilt was wrapped with what looked like boar skin, but was red in color and somehow looked more resistant.

Unbidden, her hands reached out to grasp and lift the sword. It was heavy, but her young muscles quickly adapted to holding it, her hands shaping themselves around the hilt as if it was second nature.

Gazing at her reflection in its flawless surface, Siabrey heard herself ask. “What is this?”

“It’s a katana.” Her mother answered, her voice cool and proud as the sea. “It was mine, and, in a way, I guess it was your father’s.” Siabrey looked up. Her mother’s usually modest demeanor was gone. Her dull multi-colored hair, some strands fading to gray, glistened in the torchlight, and her soft white skin glowed as if she was a teenager again, the wrinkles and lines vanishing. Siabrey gaped at the sudden change in her mother’s appearance, while Stodiana went on talking, a wall within her having been burst at the sight of her daughter holding her katana.

“I made that sword myself, when I was but a child, hardly older than you. Your grandparents, my mom and dad, were very understanding. They let me go adventuring when I was 18; those were some of the happiest years of my life. Then, one day, I met your father.” Stodiana gave a great sigh of happiness. “He was the most spectacular thing I had ever seen. We fell in love, almost overnight it seems. We had many adventures together, and then one day, my sword was broken in this huge battle with a pack of sandhogs. Kelir reforged my blade, and added those carvings that you see along the top. He rewrapped the hilt in sandhog skin, and named the blade after himself.”

Stodiana fell silent after this immense proclamation. Siabrey sat there gazing at her slack-jawed, fingers idly tracing the carvings along the sword’s edge. After several minutes of silence had passed, Siabrey found her voice enough to ask. “So then what happened?”

Stodiana blinked and pulled herself out of a daze. The immense beauty that had come over her features faded, and she was just a tired old mom again. “Nothing. Kelir disappeared soon after that, I found out that I was pregnant with you and came home.”

Siabrey searched for any other tidbit that she could get. “And he never wrote you, never stopped by to see me, or anything like that?” Her voice was incredulous.

Stodiana smiled sadly. “I never heard from him again. If it’s any consolation Siabrey, he did not know that I was pregnant.”

“Oh.” Siabrey looked down again at her reflection in the shining blade. Vaguely, she wondered what her father had looked like to give her such a strange physique. Grasping for a change of subject, she pointed to the runes. “What do these mean?”

Stodiana shrugged. “I have no idea. He wouldn’t tell me. Said it was some kind of protection or something.”

Siabrey gazed at the blade for several seconds more, then stood, holding the blade tightly with both hands. She barely managed to hold the quivering point up for a few seconds before it fell to land with a solid “thunk” in the wooden floor. Stodiana’s eyes were alight. “Don’t worry dear, you’ll get stronger as you practice.”

“Practice?” But even as the words left her mouth, Siabrey knew that her mother was right. Already she was planning on taking the shining blade down to the old courtyard and swinging it around. Her old suspicions came back and she glanced at her mother “To what end?”

Stodiana raised herself from the bed and reached out for the sword. Holding it out easily, she went into a small flurry of attacks, the blade moving so quickly that it whistled through the air, its edge a blur. She stopped a few minutes later, barely breathing hard, and handed the blade back to her shocked daughter. Crouching, she placed her hands gently on Siabrey’s shoulders.

“You are my daughter, Siabrey. You carry within you the same desire for adventure that I had at your age, and it is timed that you lived up to your birthright.”

Siabrey gazed at her mother with newfound respect and love, then smiled and nodded.


It seemed like Siabrey was born anew after that night. No longer did she sulk and moan at being unable to go play with the other children. Now she spent endless hours training with her mother’s katana, often forgetting to eat until her mother brought her a plate of food. Sometimes in the middle of the night, Siabrey would wake in a cold sweat at being unable to remember a routine, and would run out of her room to practice in her bedclothes until she got it right.


Five years passed in a whirlwind, until Siabrey woke one morning to a strange feeling in the air. Unable to place her finger on what exactly was different, she dressed quickly in a warm tunic and trousers, strapped on her katana, and made her way quietly down to the courtyard. Dawn was still several hours from breaking as she started out with a simple routine, then went into a rush of smooth uppercuts and slashes that left her muscles feeling pleasantly warmed. Settling down into a practice that would last most of the day, she barely noticed when her mother crept down the stairs a few hours later, a tightly wrapped bundle in her hands. Placing it securely under her arm, she watched her daughter for several minutes. Waiting until Siabrey had finished a particularly tricky routine, she finally nodded with a soft smile, and she made her way over to where Siabrey stood, sweat trickling softly under her braided hair.

“Good morning, mother.” Siabrey said politely, bowing in the habit she had gotten used to when greeting Stodiana.

Good morning, daughter.” Stodiana held out a soft cloth so that Siabrey could wipe her face. “Having a pleasant practice?”

“Extremely. The air seems different this morning though, somehow fresher, more vibrant. Do you know what I mean?” she turned curious eyes to her mother.

“Of course. I felt the same way on the day I turned 18.” Stodiana eyes twinkled with amusement.

“The day you turned….you mean, today’s my birthday?” Siabrey gasped. She had completely lost track of the days.

Stodiana smiled again and nodded. “And remember my promise to you all those years ago, Siabrey. When you turned 18, I would let you leave this place and go out into the world to find your own way.

Siabrey remembered, but the fact that the time was now here came as a shock. “But…but I’m not ready mother,” she stammered. “I still haven’t got Hawoash’s 13th rapture movement down..”

“Nonsense. I saw you performing it perfectly not 10 minutes ago.” Stodiana reached out and rested her palm on her daughter’s cheek. “Siabrey, there is nothing to be afraid of; you are ready.”

With a flourish, Stodiana thrust the bundle, which by now Siabrey knew contained all of her belongings that she would need while traveling, into her hands. Tears flowing gently, Stodiana pulled her daughter close in a fierce hug. “Go out and find out who you are, my darling. Remember though, you are always welcome here by the sea. I love you.”

“I love you too, mom.” Siabrey returned the hug as well as she could one-handed. “I’ll come back someday.” She whispered, her own tears starting to flow freely.

“I know, my daughter. I know.” Stodiana held her close for one more minute, then turned and walked back into the castle without a backwards glance, leaving her daughter standing alone in the empty courtyard with a travel pack in one hand, and a glistening sword in the other.

Siabrey drew a deep breath, trying to come to terms with the sudden twist of emotions within her. Part of her was dreading the sudden separation, but another, larger part, was already turned and sampling the breeze, and her feet itched with the desire to head out onto the road.

“All right then….” She said softly, her fingers reflexively smoothing the leather wrapping the hilt of her sword. Her face squared. “All right then.” Shouldering the pack, she sheathed her blade with one fluid movement. Taking a deep breath, she strode the 10 quick steps to the small eastern gate in the wall, and unlocked it. She allowed herself one glance back at the place that had been her home for the last 18 years. Far in an upper window, she could see Stodiana’s white tear-streaked face, gazing out at her. Lifting a hand in silent farewell, Siabrey turned and began her long trek out onto the road, with the sun barely breaking the horizon before her.

Ok.. since my last post here, we have had a massive slew of new NPCs, and a new PC as well. I'll outline the important new NPCs below, and let hte player post his PC ( a CG Rog5/Bar5 named Shaun Dice) when he gets ready.


Elenya Barachist
Age: 19; Female Human Adp3/Wiz3; CG

DESCRIPTION:
Elenya is small, only 5'1" and barely 115 pounds, but makes up for it not only with her beauty (she's got an 18 cha) but her wit, charm, and distate for anyone foolish. She's been endowed with sky blue eyes, and jet black hair. She has inherited a moderate prankster side, though she has more than enough smarts to know when its ok to kid around, and when its dangerous to do so.

BACKGROUND:

Elenya is the only daughter of a former adventuring wizard and his sorceress wife. Her mother died many years ago, but her father raised her well in a loving and caring home, full of magic. Her interest in her father's former work gave rise to her interest in magic, and her mother's natural abilities also began to display themselves in her.

Until recently, she split most of her time helping her father with his small magic shop in the city of Kulloden, and helping her uncle man his inn/tavern. Most of the time she acted as a cook at her uncle's place, but one fateful night she had to fill in for a barmaid who was sick... and met a dark haired, debonair young rogue named Shaun Dice.

She liked his looks, his rapid, witty comments, and also the sly way he looked at her, and the two almost immediately started a torrid love affair under her uncle's nose. He then vanished for a week and a half to look for an erstwhile partner that had cheated him out of a great sum of money, only to return with a retinue of people in tow, including a high ranking noble. Initially angry at him, she realized as well how much she missed him, and grew closer to him in more ways than the physical side of things.

Elenya was relieved to have him back, only to see him nearly die yet again at the hands of a shapeshifting assassin. In the week he'd spent in Kulloden since returning, she'd fallen head over heels for him, and when his party packed up to head to Irulas, she stole her uncle's pack horse, some supplies, and followed with. LIttle did she understand that she now found herself in the middle of a war between a Countess and her erstwhile son, a duel between the forces of evil and the armies of good.

Her barmaid background has given her a background that most apprentice mages do not have: she has many abilities that are more akin to those one would expect a rogue to have; listening to conversations, gathering information, spreading rumors, and intimidating people larger than her (from dealing with drunk and unruly patrons). Unlike many in her profession, however, her mind is sharp, and she hopes to be more than a mere barmaid.

FOrtunately for her, one of the members of the group ( a cat that changed into a half elf) was a wizard, and she was able to on occassion "borrow" his spell book, eventually possessing it almost entirely to herself. Teaching herself, she has begun refining her powers.

After several days of relaxation in Irulas (punctuated by sneaking around the Governor's Palace dressed as a maid and fighting a rakhasa) Shaun and his group planned to leave Irulas to help their friend the noble regain his mind. By this point, Elenya had become not just Shaun's lover, but friends to his comrades Tess and SIabrey. When Shaun told her it was too dangerous to come with, she refused, and declared she would follow him. HE then knelt on one knee, and committed himself to her, and her alone...

...which now is all good and nice, considering he impregnated her back in Kulloden.

Xanadu the Wizard, also known as Xanadu the Bright, Xanadu Brightcold

Age: 712; Male Silver Dragon; CG

DESCRIPTION:

In Half Elf Form: In his preferred guise as a half-elf, Xanadu tkaes the form of a middle-aged male, about 5’7” tall with long black hair that includes streaks of grey. His eyes, though, are noticeably violet, and have a tendency to go brassy when he uses magic.

In Dragon Form: In his natural form, Xanadu is a majestic, and frightening pillar of what nature can construct. Fully 200’ from the tip of his snout to the end of his tail, he towers 60’ above the surrounding land when he sits up straight while sitting on his haunches. His body is covered with shimmering, glossy silver scales, and a huge, 8 foot tall frill runs from the top of his head, down the length of his back, to the end of his tail. A think, silvery mane of sorts flows down from his lower jaw, and massive, enormous silver wings can set him alight in the blink of an eye.

For all his natural form’s power and majesty, Xanadu prefers to not be in it. He finds it much harder to associate with humans and half-elves (which he loves to do) in his natural form; they run away and cry “evil dragon.” Dragons are not looked upon highly, and he is more afraid of being shunned than injury. He only returns to his natural form to stretch, and only when he is fairly sure that he will not be spotted.


BACKGROUND:
Xanadu Brightcold is among the oldest of the dragons sent by the Council of Wyrms so long ago. All the party knows is at some point 500 years ago, Xanadu led the fight against a temple of Hextor, destroying it. He then fought against the demon Ananias 200 years ago, losing and finding himself bound in the form of a cat. After the party freed him from his bound form, he has proven a wise sage, helpful in many matters, yet always quiet and reclusive. He suffers no fools, as shown when Shaun annoyed him and the dragon (still in half elf form) polymorphed him into a cat for several hours.

The party only recently discovered his true nature. As they went through his old homeland, he found it incredibly hard to resist sneaking off to stretch out for a few hours while the rest of hte party slept. Unfortunately, the party caught sight of him and followed, spotting him in his full form. Luckily, the party realized his fear of rejection, and lovingly embraced him for who he is.


(There is alot yet to be revealed about this NPC, and his background is tied to the plot of the campagin...)

This is the character that was created and played by my sister for one session. She played this guy so memorably and well that Emperor Valarian wanted to keep her character as an NPC and is having me play him.

Grumki the Loud

Male Half-orc Cleric 12 of Kord

Region: The West
Patron Deity: Kord
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Height: 6'4”
Weight: 274 lbs
Hair: Bald
Eyes: Black
Age: 26

Str: 19 (+1)
Dex: 10 (+0)
Con: 12 (+1)
Int: 8 (-1)
Wis: 18 (+4)
Cha: 8 (-1)

Class and Racial Abilities:
Darkvision, +2 Str, -2 Int and Cha, orc blood

Divine Spells
Divine Favor 4/day (+2 atk & dmg) for 8 rounds (replaces turning)
Strength domain (+8 to Str 1/day for 1 round as free action)
Luck domain (reroll 1/day)

Hit Dice: 12d8+12
HP: 86
AC: 17 (+0 Dex, +6 armor, +1 natural)
Init: +0 (+0 Dex)
Speed: 30ft

Saves:
Fortitude +11 [+8 base, +1 Con, +2 cloak]
Reflex +6 [+4 base, +0 Dex, +2 cloak]
Will +14 [+8 base, +4 Wis, +2 cloak]

BAB: +9/+4
Melee Atk: +13/+8
Melee weapon: +16/+11 to atk, 1d8+8/x3, +2 warhammer Kord's Fist
Melee with divine favor: +18/+12 to akt, 1d8+10/x3, +2 warhammer
Melee with domain power: +22/+17, 1d8+17/x3, +2 warhammer
Melee with divine favor and domain power: +24/+19/x3, 1d8+19, +2 warhammer
Ranged Atk: +9/+4
Ranged weapon: +9 to atk, 1d8/19-20/x2, light crossbow

Skills:
Knowledge (religion) +14 [15 ranks, -1 Int]

Feats:
Martial Weapon Proficiency: warhammer
Weapon Focus: warhammer
Toughness
Power Attack
Cleave

Languages
Common, Orc

Spells Prepared
0th - detect magic x3, read magic x3
DC 14, can convert to cure minor wounds for 1 point of healing

1st - bless x3, cause fear x2, (d) endure elements (cold)
DC 15, can convert to cure light wounds for 1d8+5 points of healing

2nd - endurance x2, lesser restoration x2, zone of truth, (d) bull's strength
DC 16, can convert to cure moderate wounds for 2d8+10 points of healing

3rd - bestow curse, prayer x2, magic vestment, (d) magic vestment
DC 17, can convert to cure serious wounds for 3d8+12 points of healing

4th - restoration x2, neutralize poison x2, (d) freedom of movement
DC 18, can convert to cure critical wounds for 4d8+12 points of healing

5th - flame strike x2, raise dead, (d) break enchantment
DC 19

6th - heal x2, (d) stoneskin
DC 20

Equipment:

Wearing:
+2 chain shirt
+2 warhammer (Kord's Fist)
cloak of resistance +2
periapt of Wisdom +2
Heward's Handy Haversack
Wand of cure light wounds
light crossbow
40 bolts
adventurer's outfit
iron holy symbol of Kord
amulet of natural armor +1
belt pouch
dagger

On Hammerhoof (Clydesdale)
Bit and bridle
Riding saddle
Saddlebags

Tied to saddle
Waterskin
50 ft. hemp rope

Backpack
In Backpack attached to back of Hammerhoof’s saddle
Bedroll
2 potions of cure moderate wounds
2 potions of cure light wounds
potion of endurance

Total Money: 50gp, 15sp


Appearance:
Grumki is a massively tall and broad half-orc with short, neat tusks and a hugely overmuscled physique. Keeping his head carefully shaved and wearing only the minimal amount of clothes (better to show of his muscles), he presents a picture of a towering giant. He carries a massive warhammer at his side and wears a symbol of the church of Kord proudly around his neck, along with several broken chains (from strength-testing contests).

Personality:
Grumki is a very loud and enthusiatic advocate of the Strength of Kord. He constantly insists that the Strength of Kord only requires, well, strength. And strong ale. And the occasional bit of healing. Other than that the Strength of Kord requires nothing else. He'll often say, when presented with something of irrelevance to him that the Strength of Kord does not require it. So far the Strength of Kord does not require:
accuracy
speed
being on time
being polite
nobles
parties
fancy clothes
being quiet
and various other things.

Grumki is boisterous, declaring everything in loud, ear-ringing tones and delivering hearty backslaps to everyone and everthing in his path. He is happy to take young warriors under his wing, provided they wish to improve their strength. He constantly tests himself in battle and in the wrestling areana and is always on the lookout for more ways to test the Strength of Kord.

Background:
Grumki was born one of the relatively rare priestess of Kord and a barbarian orc tribesman she had met in her travels. Brought up in the temple of Kord and constantly testing his strength from a young age, Grumki became an exemplary member of the church.

Deciding he had to look outside the temple to continue his training, Grumki took to wandering the countryside. He intervened anywhere he thought his strength would be needed, often in bandit attacks, tavern brawls, or skirmishes. Recently he came across a group of adventurers going to slay a demon and found that to be a perfect way to test the Strength of Kord. The group has led him to many other tests, including the smashing of a temple of Hextor.