Dwybaen Lockhartt the Calamus of the Phoenix, Elder Maran

Role

Chapter 9

"Confidence, Dwybaen!"

Dwybaen was always just a bit short on that aspect. He never felt comfortable
in any fighting stance, let alone against foes such as the star student of
Gutrella Ramspirit herself.

Gutrella felt that bare knuckle combat was the best way to bring out your
true connections to the forms attuned to your spirit. Her student of
course was destined to be the Ram and continued to press his attack of
charging, knocking Dwybaen to the ground every time.

"CONNECT! I see it in you, Dwybaen, why can't YOU!"

Dwybaen took a slow breath and readied himself as the foe made another
predictable charge. His feet dug into the earthen floor and he released
his breath in a calm, exhale. The other student picked himself up
from the floor wiping blood from his lip.

Gutrella chuckled throatily to herself and jotted some notes down in
a book labeled, "Predictions"

Role

Chapter 8

"Do you see?"
His father gawked at the vulture picking at the corpse nearby. His father
was rarely amazed by anything.

"That bird knows how to use what he's got."

The vulture pecked mercilessly at the kill. Tearing the internal organs
to shreds and stripping flesh easily from bone. It was not long and
corpse was laid bare, upon which the bird launched to the skies and
floated lazily above Dwybaen and his father.

"Not a breath of wind and he just hovers there."

His father, still amazed, finished gutting their kill and hoisted the
meat onto his back for the hike home. Looking down at the entrails
he grabbed them and stuffed them in a bag.

"Can't hurt to try?!"

Dwybaen gagged a bit as they walked off, the vulture swooping down
behind them and finishing off what they left behind.

Role

Chapter 7

"You see, Dwybaen."

His father pointed to a bear standing midstream in the cool rushing water
of Voralia's Tears.

"Patience"

The bear was a being borne of nothing more than muscle, claw and tooth. It's
dark fur bristled on its back and dark, piercing eyes glared into the water.

"Watch"

Suddenly a splash out of the water and a fish came flying upstream. Working
its way diligently from south of Galadon up river to spawn. Only to be
promptly caught in the hungry jaws of the bear. Dwybaen's father smiled.

"Patience"

Dwybaen sighed as he fidgeted on the shoreline. His pole hadn't budged in
an hour.

Role

Chapter 6

His mother scolded him harshly. He had run with a mischevious crowd
getting into some trouble in Voralia. His 'friends' leaving him to
take the brunt of the punishment.

"The actions of your friends reflect on you, Dwybaen! Choose your
Pack well!"

Why did she use the word Pack, he wondered.

His door slammed shut and he was sentenced to solitude. Looking out
his window he spied a wolf, limping across the farmlands clearly
injured. The wolf was a large male, perhaps a loner and was sure to
be easy pickings for a bear, vulture or hungry kobold.


Just then more wolves appeared from the treeline, slinking lowly out
to the injured one in formation. But not to attack and put it out of
his misery. Protecting. Guiding the male back to the woods just as
a bumbling group of hunters trudged past, following a false trail.

"The pack you keep"

Dwybaen muttered. Why is she always right.

Role

Chapter 5

"There it is Dwybaen!"

Dwybaen looked but missed it again.

His mother nudged him in the shoulder as the bumped along in the back
of his father's wagon. Heading south out of the Vale towards home, his
mother's eyes sparkled as she watched the top of the mountains towards the
city of bird-men.

"The skyflash, Dwybaen. Is said to represent Lord Shokai."
She smiled wistfully.

"Seeing it is rumored to precede good fortune for those of the Light"

Her gaze darkened.

"And a furious beating for those NOT of the Light."

She giggled.

She loved old tales like that and especially delighted in embellishing
the darker parts.

Her eyes quickly snapped to attention.

"There! In the clouds!"

Dwybaen looked, but missed it again.

"Don't fear, my son. Someday you'll spot one."

Role

Chapter 4

"Wait for it"
"Wait for it"

Dwybaen was scared. Not the debilitating fear that grips you
in the soul when true evil approaches. No, it was just dark.
But it was very dark, and very quiet. And this was the Rugged
Foothills with bears, and wolves, and any manny of selfish adventurer
that could be wandering through. His father wanted to share something with
him and he could tell by the gleam in his eye it was important.

Just as the dark seemingly couldn't get any deeper. Just as it got as
physically dark as it possibly could get. He saw it.

One little flicker in the dark and the whole meadow was visible. Another,
deeper in the woods and Dwybaen could see from the ground to the sky.

"Facing the shadow, Dwybaen. Takes just a tiny Light inside you."

Suddenly, as if on cue the entire plains lit up with thousands of
fireflies. On their bi-annual migation during the darkest new moon,
the line of Light extended from deep in the mountains to the outskirts
of Voralia.

In the light of the fireflies Dwybaen saw figures moving about. Fathers
with their sons and daughters. All sitting in the dark teaching their
valuable lesson. No matter how dark, it only takes a little light to burn
away a shadow.

Role

Chapter 3

Dwybaen's mother called to him. "To me, my son. NOW!" It was the sixth time
she'd said it. But he didn't hear her. The boy had simply called her a name.
Nothing too terrible, but it hurt the young girls feelings.

The little half-elf girl sat in the mud puddle, sobbing at her soiled white
linen dress. Tear-streaked trails of dust and dirt tracked down her cheeks as
she looked up at Dwybaen. It was her deep blue eyes that struck him. So like
his own. So he disregarded his mothers calls. He blocked her out like she had
blocked his fathers jeers and jabbers so many times before. All he knew was
rage and vengeance. The little girls soul had been touched by this vicious
bully and he would not let it go unpunished this day.

The beating was severe. So severe that Dwybaen spent the next two weeks indoors
helping his mother with the washing when he could and hiding his beaten face
from the lingering stares of curious onlookers. What did he expect. He was frail
even by half-elf standards and there were several of them. They made short work of
him and left a few bootprints in his back for good measure.

One day, Dwybaen was bringing in the linens from the line and he spied someone in the
bushes round back of their garden gate. The hackles on the back of his neck raised
sharply, like animal instinct. Crouching low, Dwybaen crept to the end of the hanging
line of linens, wondering if another beating was about to be delivered. His heart
raced and ears twitched. He heard nothing. Reaching the end of the hanging line he
burst through a gauzy film of tablecloth coming face to face with.....

a little girl.

She smiled. Her lily white dress brilliant in the summer sun and her cheeks red from
outdoor play. Freckles dotted her face and her deep blue eyes shone back at Dwybaen
as he met her gaze. She leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek.

"Fanks fer bein' my Hero" she said.

When Dwybaen remembers that day, and that little girl. He is thankful for being stubborn
like a mule.

Role

Chapter 2

It was cold and rainy that night. (Isn't it always?) His
father staggered in through the front door to face a very
cross, very fed up, elven woman. The argument was sharp
and rose to a crescendo quickly. As the lightning flashed
Dwybaen noticed strange things about his fathers face. Almost
as if the shadows cast horns upon his head and spiky growths
rose from the hackles of his neck. Dwybaen was terrified and
confused. Was this real, or just a trick of the light.
His father flew on his mother and began beating her viciously,
relentlessly. The shadows on the wall flickered again and
it bore the resemblance of a horrible demon cackling in glee
as it watched. His mother cried out in anguish for help but
the thunder drowned it out.


That's when it happened.

The guildmaster of the Shapechangers guild in Voralian called
it a 'Spontaneous Transformative Episode'. She also said she
had never seen such carnage. The claw marks dug inches into the
walls and stonework over the mantle. The furniture looked as
if were trampled by a herd of elephants and the door off its
hinges after being rammed hard and split in two. Dwybaen was
found on the banks of Voralia's Tears, covered in his parents
blood. His mother died of her wounds from the beating.

They only found bits and pieces of his father. Two of which still
clutched in Dwybaen's hands when he was found....both his hands.

Role

Chapter 1

Dwybaen grew up like any other half-breed. On the outskirts of
Voralian city in a modest home and a loving family. Or so
it seemed. His elven mother was very beautiful and had left
her very luxuriant life in Darsylon to be with her father, a
charismatic rugged sort living off the land on the edge of the
Open plains.

But these things can change, and they did. His father would
frequent the Inn of the Eternal Star. More in recent years
and often come home staggering and disheveled. Too many
'free drink' nights with the Captain Neltouda, or the one
called Whiysdan. His father could never recall which
one he spoke to a which time but it was never a good thing
and it never ended well when he returned home. His mother
was not accustomed to behavior so 'common' and many times
him quite a tongue lashing for it. She may have left
the uppercrust life of Darsylon, but it had not left her.

It wasn't long until violence began to be a problem. An
occasional slap turned into grabbing of the wrists and
soon progressed into a closed fist punch. His mother didn't
understand what had happened. Where did the good man she fell
in love with disappear to. Replaced with this homonculous
of a being with no ethics, morals or self-worth.

What she didn't know is that those many nights in the Inn
there were other powers at work. Not only do the Lords and
Ladies of the Eternal Star frequent the place and keep the
revelry going. Other heavenly beings do as well, and sit
watching. Sometimes taking the form of a bouncer,
or a quiet drow seated at the bar. Sometimes interacting
and sometimes just watching, listening, waiting. One such
shadow figure had been talking to his father. Whispering
in his ear and slowly, but surely, changing him. Like a
drip of water to hard stone....his father was no longer
the man of old. He was paranoid, angry, and most of all
selfish. He had succumbed to the oldest folly of goodly
people. The Whispers in the Dark came for him. And he
listened.

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