Vanedyl the Force of Nature, Harbinger of Thar-Eris

Role

Chapter 4

Vanedyl experienced his first Loss when he was orphaned as a
young child. Both Figuratively and Literally. Losing his
parents, he lost a part of what was him. But he also spent
much of the subsequent time lost in the woods. Afraid to go
near civilization for fear of being found by the man who
killed his parents, he learned to let that not frighten him.
To embrace that feeling of being lost, and turn it to his advantage

Born under the one of the signs of Rashael, he will seek out
the cathedral, to expand his understandings of Loss, and fate.
He knows now that he was fated to take up his parents cause.
Had they lived, his path to it might have been different, but the
end result would have been the same. As such, he knows that
in finding those small clues that day in the remnants of his
old home were a sign, putting his feet back on the path.

Having lived near Voralia most of his life, and while some
might call it his home, it never really felt like that.
The wilds will always be more comfortable to him, than the
paved streets of that city.

Vanedyl has had to survive, to adapt, and to learn on his own.
At his essence he is that survivor. There is a feral part of
him, deep down inside, that helped him to persevere those first
few hard weeks on his own. He's pushed it down, deep inside, but
it yearns to break free at times. That savage instinct. One day
he will have to learn to channel it, or simply let it be free,
to let the lessons of his Loss shape him, one way or the other.

Role

Chapter 3

The years passed, and the boy grew into a man. Spending his time
listening to the eb and flow of nature. Learning to commune with
the animals and plants around him, he came upon the glade north-east
of Voralia. And there he apprenticed himself to the guild of Druids.

It was several years after, when wandering through those familiar
lands near his parents stedding, that he came upon the burned out
home. Nature had reclaimed much of it, and for that he was
grateful. He found himself standing in the middle of what
was once his parents bedroom. He felt a small tug at his pant
leg. Looking down a small chipmunk was digging into the soft
earth with some urgency.

Vanedyl bent over digging into the dirt with his calloused hands.
Less than six inches down, he hit something hard. Clearing away
the dirt he found a small roughly made wooden chest. No metal
visible, it was bound with leather that had started to rod away.
Carefully opening it, He found inside, some dried leaves, assorted
berries, and several pieces of bark with writing on them.

Carefully removing the pieces from the chest, he inspected each one.
The leaves and berries, well past their prime, crumbled in his hands.
The barks though, seemed very well preserved. They seemed to be
some form of correspondence. From someone calling themselves the
Harbinger, to his parents. Much of what he read lifted a cloud
that had hung over him from that day. He'd heard much of the so
called Empire, but this was the last piece of that puzzle. Somehow
his parents were involved with something called the Refuge, and they
were working to undermine the Empire, and reduce its power and
influence in the lands.

Having read the barks a second time, Vanedyl sat there with them in
his lap, eyes gazing off into the distance. He knew now, what he
had to do. He would take up his parents cause.

Skill List

Role

Chapter 2

Vanedyl regained consciousness some time later that evening.
Coming too with his nose filled with the smell of his burned out
home, he crawled to the remains of his porch steps, the heat
blistering his face. As he gazed up, his parents bodies were
little more than ash. He cried there then for a time as the
sun sank below the horizon.

Falling night brought him back to his senses. Vanedyl worried
that more people might come, went to the barn and gathered
up a small sack with some grain to chew on, and a small blanket
and he moved off into the woods. Dark as it was, quickly the
boy lost his way. Unsure where he was, there in the dark,
he finally sat on a fallen log, listless and dead inside.

Then came the words again quiet, but resolute, "Blessed are
the Lost." Then, the boy started to look around, and as
he did, he began recognizing useful things about the
area around him. His parent, had taught the boy from the
time he could walk, the ways of the woods, and such. But
he felt there was something more, something that he was
missing. That night, the words, they held meaning more
than anything he had ever experienced. He may be lost,
he may have lost his parents, but it was that Loss that
he would embrace, to learn from, to help it to shape him.

That night, there, lost in the light of the moon, he
became one with both. Opening his eyes, he was not overly
startled to see several of the nocturnal creatures of the
wood sitting around him, gazing at him inquisitively.

Role

Chapter 1

He was very young when it happened. His mother and father, simple
folk, living off the land outside of Voralia. Just off his mothers
apron strings, Vanedyl would romp and play as any rambunctious
youth would around their small homestead.

One such day, he was running fast as he could around the house,
head down, mimicking a small deer he'd seen earlier in the day.
Oblivious to his surroundings he barrelled into a man walking
up to the front door of their home.

Deep black smelly metal armor plate emblazoned with a large
Imperial Codex, the man stood motionless looking at the
front of Vanedyl's small home. He raised his hand a few moments
latter muttering words under his breath, a ball of fire streaked
from his finger tips. Vanedyl, still on the ground at the mans
feet looked on in horror and the fire engulfed his home. He
could hear the screams of his parents echoing out of the windows
as the glass shattered. They stumbled out onto the front
porch, where to the young boys horror, they collapsed in each
others arms, dead.

Looking down at the boy, the man grinned in satisfaction as
he said "Remember boy, this is what happens when you cross
the Emperor." And then kicked Vanedyl swiftly in the head.

Sweet blackness engulfing him, the Vanedyl's last memory
is a voice echoing in his head, a tiny, little voice...

"Blessed are the Lost, Vanedyl."

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