Llathe A'lethial the Skjald of Battle

PK Wins

Role

Chapter 2

The war against magic rages, and Llathe holds little optimism that
it will soon end. For each blow struck against the treacherous
Nexuns, or every mage laid low, more spring up in their places.
The littany of dead in the village grows long: Grimghal, Choinon,
and Shravthar of late. Though younge, the constant warfare grinds
down her body and she finds herself weakening with every battle.

Surely, surely, this struggle for mere statis is not the only way?
If a greatery victory is to be achieved, Llathe doubts that it
could possibly come from the continued application of brute force.
She desperately hopes to find wisdom in the teachings of the Enclave,
where the cunning Verathi is master. For now, The immortal has set
her to tasks of learning and misdirection, to hone her intellect
and weaken the Isle.

Role

Chapter 1

When Llathe was a young woman, she served as the herald to the King
of a vast and prosperous kingdom. The King and his soldiers were
strong, and protected the realm from foes internal and external.
Victory was the ultimate arbitor of disputes, and peace was enforced
by the mighty. Battles were wondrous affairs, and Llathe was often
on hand to record and later disseminate the outcomes. There was no
magic in the kingdom, and she was happy.

And then, one day, she awoke in a small village, surrounded by
strange faces. They seemed pleased by her groggy waking, but her
head ached and she fell back asleep. When next she woke, the faces
and surroundings remained strange. As she recovered her strength,
she learned that the friendly villagers knew nothing of her homeland,
or how she had come to bew in the woods ou the outskirts of the town.
It was many months before she was healthy again, and, over that time,
she began to doubt the truth of her memories.

A conflict over water rights arose with the neighboring village, and
it became clear that conflict was inevitable. Llathe volunteered to
join the haphazard militia, both as gratitude to the village and
because she felt that battle would rightly determine the justness of
their cause. The combat, however, was unlike any she remembered.
Hedge-wizards on each side unleashed wild sorcery over the field, and,
within seconds, most participants lay dead or injured. There was no
victory, and, her wounds recovered, Llathe thanked the remaining
villagers and left.

Her memories spoke of something better, of a place where warfare and
victory had meaning. Magic, clearly, had no role in this place.
Sorcery was too powerful, too wild and fey. She had heard rumors of
another village, set within the ruins of an ancient city. The villagers
there held the key to creating the kingdom of her dreams.

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