Rinn Stormcrest the Wise Wanderer, Elder of the Refuge

PK Wins

Role

Chapter 5

(Written and conceived alone among the cloudy skies of Prosimy while all the
refuge slept)


A man, he died an imperial.
His coffin lined with gold.
And through it all, his many conquests,
His spirit he had sold.

My plot though knows no gilding,
In life nor on grave's stone.
My simple gift beside Her,
Alone to die my own.

Role

Chapter 4

I pause with doubts,
Words and curses,
whispered in the night.

They call Rinn savage,
they call her a mess,
and no friend to the light.

For a paladin's fallen,
While zombies tear and slash,
And Rinn did start this fight.

Yet no darkness sought,
By ghoulish claw and talon,
Rinn did soon take flight.

Yet the paladin ignored
Rinn's faithful hunt,
Returning to mausoleum in righteous might.

Yet soon he'd fall,
And kill two with him,
By zombies and out of Rinn's sight.

Yet a more insidious evil,
than a paladin's death,
as we pause to consider what's right.

Is the questioning thoughts,
That slight hesitation,
As we falter in Thar-Eris's fight.

(written by Rinn Stormcrest after reflection on a paladin's death and
hesitation in her hunt in a moment of doubt.)

Role

Chapter 3

Rinn Stormcrest's tribe only knows and thinks of themselves as wood-elves
despite being born Avariel because of the secret birthing process of
wing-removal and the rugged adaptation and survival needed among the highest
mountain peaks. While the Shamans alone know the secret, even they themselves
have undergone a similar procedure as it was this sacrifice alone that saved
their people from extinction in their loss to the dragons in the previous
Ages. Such is it then that they now most closely identify with wood-elves
because of their lifestyle and reclusive and neutral beliefs. Lost to the
tribe is the fact that wood-elf shamans don't exist and the original
shamans of the line probably leaned closer to the Gods of light and
existed to fight the draconian and other dark forces in the realm.

It's unwelcome and possibly forbidden for Rinn to leave her tribe in the
mountains, but such is her wanderlust and wistful desire for something beyond
her reach. She is drawn to tragedy in her art in a life that is inexplicably
without satisfaction.

Based on her people's history and tribal instincts:

She has an inexplicable fear of dragons without knowing why. Especially the
chromatic dragons and minions of Tiamat who fought and wiped out her people
in previous ages (Though she has no knowledge of this outside some cryptic
ancient murals in her homeland Snowy Peaks caverns)

While remaining neutral and willing to fight enemies of thar-eris of all
alignments, she feels most righteous when the enemies before her are the
darker abominations and defilers against Thar-Eris.

Her tribe despite losing its knowledge of Avariel origins, still divides
itself into two halves: Warlike and Scholarly. Each member participates in
both for decades at a time throughout their life. Rinn begins in a more
Scholarly period, but with her wanderlust and legendary stories, seeks to be
worthy of the warlike society of her tribe as she grows and learns.

She is uncomfortable and claustrophobic in enclosed places for reasons
inherent to her forgotten race.

She is most comfortable under the sky and it is reflected in nearly every
song and poem she writes without realizing it.

Role

Chapter 2

Actual Avariel lore as referenced by outside sources on which Thera draws its
many racial and lore concepts of other elven races already in Thera:

The avariel (or "winged folk" in Elven) were among the first of the elf
races. However, conflict with dragons almost wiped them, and while they
survived since that time, they were considered by most to be myths or
legends.

In response, the remaining avariels went into hiding, preferring to stay on
the ground rather than flying.

Avariel were said to have the most beautiful voices of all the tel'quessir
(Elves), and their songs were greatly sought after by bards of other races.

Avariels had good relationships with other races who lived in the sky. They
had strong ties with the aarakocra (Arials?), as they shared the same worship
of the sky and had the same respect for nature.

Avariel were more delicate than their earth-bound cousins, with hollow bones
to aid their flight. They had pale skin, often porcelain white. An avariel's
wings were usually white, but could be black, brown, or speckled. Avariel
were also known to practice the dyeing of wing tips. Their eyes were slightly
larger than normal and ranged in color from brilliant blues to green or
purple. Their hair color was normally a silver-white or black

Avariel society was split into two groups that coexisted together, labeled
"warlike" and "peaceful". Young avariel spent time immersed in both cultures
(this could last over a decade), so that no matter what sect they came from,
they had a deep understanding and respect of how the other half lived.

Role

Chapter 1

--------------------
Up where the Snowy Peaks lies,
Elven children are born and their secret dies.
For survival of a tribe whose origin has flown,
The pinioning of secrets to remain unknown.
--------------------
-unknown author


The thunder boomed and reverberated down the tunnel depths high in the Snowy
Peaks amidst the Northern Mountains. Night was deep in the place the wood-elf
tribe had dwelled for thousands of years, far above what Lowlanders
considered possible. With twisted reflections the lightning sought to spoil
the darkness, but only the faint sound of rumbling thunder could reach the
far off depths of the tribal shamans sacred birthing room.

An elven newborn's cries played a harmonic staccato to the thunder's base
as the shaman performed the birthing ritual. The elven mother was drugged for
the birth as was the tribe's custom, her elven father not permitted near at
all for such an event. The wood-elf Shaman alone bore witness to the event:
As her shaman mother had before her. And her mothers mother before that.
And so on for countless generations to prevent the genocide of their people.

The baby's eyes like all the tribe were wider than most elves. The weight
too light even for an elven baby from the nearly hollow bones. The skin was
fair and would remain so despite the "wood-elf" tribes rugged lifestyle
among the constant sun of the tribes high Snowy Peaks. Yet the shamans
breath caught as it always did as it looked upon the Avariel child's wings
of mottled silver for the first and last time. They were always so beautiful,
always so unique. It was the only moment that the shamans of her line, and
the shamans alone, were reminded of who and what they were and from where
they had come. A secret hidden from the tribe itself and the dragons seeking
their extinction who ruled the skies so long ago.

The mother slept in her drug induced state as they always did. With a wistful
sigh, the wingless Avariel shaman completed the procedure of the wing
removal. Then she began the intricate work of scarring and tattooing along
the baby's back that all the tribe bore, a work of art, incorporating the
night's storm into its design. A troubling omen and unfavorable tribal
trait of wanderlust to be certain.

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