This is a pretty long post, but it introduces many things, which will make the rest much shorter. Anyway, the first instalment of Elshon, then known by his father's name of Whitesand:
Elshon Whitesand, Elf
Medium Humanoid, Drd 1, AL NG; CR 1;
HD 1d8 + 2; hp 9;
Init +3; Spd 30 ft, AC 17 (+3 dex, + 2 leather, +2 large wooden shield).
BAB +0; Atk +1 melee or +3 ranged;
SV Fort +4, Ref +3, Will +6;
Str 13, Dex 17, Con 15, Int 13, Wis 18,Cha 17
Skills (20 points): Spellcraft +5 (4), Animal Empathy +5(2), Wilderness Lore +8 (4), Handle Animal +5 (2), Concentration +6 (4), Knowledge (nature) +5 (4).
Feats: Dreamspeaking (BoEM).
Languages: Elven, Common, Sylvan.
Armor: Leather armor, +2 AC, 15 lbs; Large Wooden Steel Shield, +2 AC, 10lbs
Weapons: Masterwork Scimitar: Atk +2 melee, Dmg 1d6 +1, crit 18+/x2.
Sling: Atk +3 ranged, Dmg 1d4 +1, crit 20/x2, range 10ft.
Other gear:
Special Abilities:
Nature Sense, Animal Companion,
Memorized Spells (4/2): 0: Create water x 3, Know Direction; 1: Cure Light Wounds, Calm Animals.
El grew up loved by his parents as their only child. Even at the early age of 20 he showed enormous potential, much more than his merchant mother or tinker father. Not only was he quick, but he was wise beyond his years, and extremely likable. On his parent’s biyearly caravan journeys between the ruins of Myth Drannor and Evereska, across the Anauroc, El learned much of the strange creatures that inhabit it, and had befriended the camels and horses that pull his parent’s caravan.
His parents were antique merchants, and would raid the ruins of Myth Drannor for artifacts to sell to the elves of Evereska. It was a dangerous business, but a profitable one. The ruins were overrun by demons, but they were nothing that two very careful explorers and a handful of well-trained mercenaries couldn’t handle.
El matured slowly, never really getting out of his boyish habits. El was a restless boy, and often came to trouble during his bored hours, so his parents set him to work with as many chores as they could think of.
They also made him practice every day for twenty years with his weapon of choice, the scimitar, but he was never any good at it. His father gave him a finely crafted scimitar he had bought in Evereska for El’s thirtieth birthday, for having endured such long training.
Although he lacked a talent for the martial arts, he was uncannily good at reading dreams, and more often than not could explain to others what their dreams meant. He could sense when a dream was prophetic, or whether it was just the machinations of the unconscious.
One day when he was 40, still in his teens to an elf, El became angry with his father over having to clean the family wagon for the sixth time in a tenday, and, frustrated, ran into the desert. He ran far away from the caravan trail, and when he could run no more, he walked parallel to the trail, but a long distance away. From years of trial and error, El had the sense to walk on the windswept side of the dunes, which were hard packed with sand, and to follow distant landmarks, not the gentle curves of the dunes, which although tempting were never straight lines. The sun rose to its peak, and as the day wore on, fell through the sky to the distant horizon.
As the sun set, the temperature changed in a flash, going from burning hot to deathly cold. Years in the desert, and his particularly strong-willed durability kept him well prepared, and he continued to walk into the night, guided by the stars, until at last he could walk no more. He found a small crevice of rocks, and hid within them, sheltered from the wind that even then blew. And then the dream came. El knew immediately that it was no normal dream. It was a dream of sending, a dream with a purpose.
El dreamed of the Anauroc, but changed. It was not a wasteland of sand an rock, but a lush haven, where the rocks and sand of the desert had combined with the magical things deep beneath it to form a paradise, a perfect union of nature, magic, and machine. Animals were everywhere, mithral wolves, crystal birds, adamantine bears, great stone trees, shiny, flowing gold snakes. The dream showed him a tower deep beneath the sands, where a dark and beautiful power waited to be unleashed. The power spoke to him:
“Young El. I know how you yearn to be free, how you drive to know power. I can help you. I only ask that you set me free. Look for the Spike of Ardoros, and you shall find what you seek beneath the Second Reach. I will be waiting. For now, be content with what could be. Watch what your future will be with my help.”
El watched as raw energy burns up from the black sands of the desert-now-paradise and crackled through his dream self, changing him into something more. Looking closer, he saw that his dream self was tied not only to the power beneath the sands, but to the shifting, magical desert itself. The strength of the metal-infused bears: his. The speed of the crystalline birds: his. The impenetrable fortitude of the stone trees: his. The wisdom of the silver-furred wolves: his. The craftiness of the golden snakes: his. The beauty of the flowing sands: his.
“Serve me, young El,” the power whispered, “and watch this dream come to pass. For now, it is but a dream, but should you free me, in time, all this shall be yours. Free me, and you shall free yourself.”
El awoke the next morning to find the crevice he had slept in changed. The ground had shifted, growing smooth and graceful, and he now rested on a bed of fine, fluffy moss, not the cold stone he had fallen asleep upon. A message was etched into the ceiling above him, written in a strange, earthy tongue that he somehow could read: Behold the powers that await you.
As he sat up, he noticed that he was not alone in the crevice. Beside him lay a silver wolf, like the ones from his dreams. It opened its eyes and spoke to him in a soft feminine voice inside his head.
“Boy. You shall be a great man some day. Now rise, and greet the day. I am called Dawn. Never forget that it was I who came to you first. Never forget that it is I who serve you faithfully.”
El did rise. He and Dawn watched the sun rise, and began the long walk back to the caravan. His father was surprised to see him alive, and even more surprised at the wolf he brought with him. But he understood that whatever had happened the night before, he would never understand. He welcomed his son back into the wagon train, as well as the silver wolf, who acted more like a puppy than a beast.
Over the next few months of travel through the inhospitable desert, El explored the limited powers he felt growing inside him. He could create water from nothing, make objects shine, heal wounds, find north unerringly, and even summon strange beasts from the sands themselves. He was especially good at calming the many animals that accompanied the caravan, from the watchdogs to the camels. It was far from the dreams he had been shown, but it was a first step.
