Y'Bent City of Thieves
A centuries old Elf on a mission of predestined path of vengeance.
|STR| 10| 0| 4|
|DEX| 20| 6| 10|
|CON| 10| 0| 4|
|INT| 15| 1| 6|
|CHAR| 16| 2| 7|
|PNC| 12| 0.4| 6.4|
Non Weapon: Acrobatics, Stealth, Know Thy Enemy, Deception, Friend of the Dead, Elven Crafter.
Weapon: Scimitar (Counter, Parry). Whip (Trip, Hook, Entangle). Two weapon fighting. Unarmed.
Class: Shadow Summoning. Shadow Travel. Shadow Manipulation. Shadow Combat. Shadow Spells.
He has long black hair. His name means “Black Crafter of Sadness”.
The House of his ancestors was the house of “Dwin’Atear”, The House of those who Walk The Way.
The house he chose when given to the Darkwoods, means “The House of those Above The Way”.
Kor’hel’brar of the House of Heasi’atear is a disciple of the Darkwoods, an Elf that forsakes all ties to kin to pursue the treacherous path of those who wander the woods that skirt the edges of the plane of shadow.
Whilst the Elves understand the value in all of The Ways, there are certain ways deemed too dangerous to practice within Elven lands, yet too valuable to banish those with those dark gifts from them. So they’re taken to the Darkwood, to be called upon by the Oracles when they are needed.
And so it was with Kor, previously of the House Dwin’atear. As with many of those destined for the Darkwoods, he was allowed to live within the Elflands until his talents manifested. Kor took longer than most, to the point where the Oracles wondered if a mistake had been made in the blurry mists of mancy.
Eventually, he was considered one of the saved, and was granted leave to take a wife among the unburdened. He became a craftsman for a few hundred years, and a soldier for hundreds more, and then he was called. Whispers at first, then the call. Kor’s shadow wandered off into the Darkwood, and waited for him there.
Eventually, he knew he had to follow, leaving his family and friends behind, to seek out the Necromancers, Callers and Shadowdancers. It would be over a thousand years before the Oracles called on him.
A messenger arrived, wounded, scarred and starved, the last survivor of a band of unburdened, the rest of his party already sacrificed to the dark.
“I bear a message for Kor’hel’brar of the House of Heasi’atear. The Oracles have seen the death of your house of birth, and your kin, exactly one century from now. It cannot be unseen, and so must come to pass. As no survivors of the old house of Dwin’atear will remain, they have granted your right of vengeance on their behalf. You will be called upon shortly to answer a task beyond The Way. Your answer is already known.”
“If I may be informal. Your wife asked me to convey your children’s request that you be careful, and to tell you that they will be ready to die, as foretold. I am told they will die bravely.”
“Will you return a message? To tell them I am proud?”
“I will not return.” He lifted a portion of his scale, unveiling a festering wound. “I am sorry. You will have no words to give them, nor they to you, from now until their end. Begin your training, you must be ready by the centuryfall.”
That was some time ago now. Today, a new messenger has arrived.