Tayreth

The ugliest Eladrin you'll ever meet.

Description:

Tayreth, level 10 Eladrin, Wizard Arcane Implement Mastery: Staff of Defense

FINAL ABILITY SCORES Str 13, Con 13, Dex 14, Int 20, Wis 13, Cha 12.

Starting Ability Scores Str 12, Con 13, Dex 11, Int 16, Wis 13, Cha 12.

AC: 26 Fort: 18 Reflex: 22 Will: 21 HP: 59 Surges: 7 Surge Value: 14

TRAINED SKILLS Perception, Arcana, Insight, Religion, Nature, Thievery.

FEATS 1: Ritual Caster 1: Expanded Spellbook 2: Sneak of Shadows 4: Armor Proficiency (Leather) 6: Backstabber 8: Longsword Finesse 10: Armor Proficiency (Hide)

POWERS 1, At-Will: Scorching Burst 1, At-Will: Magic Missile 1, Encounter: Force Orb 1, Daily: Phantom Chasm Spellbook: Sleep Spellbook: Flaming Sphere 2, Utility: Shield Spellbook: Feather Fall 3, Encounter: Shock Sphere 5, Daily: Fireball Spellbook: Web Spellbook: Bigby’s Icy Grasp 6, Utility: Invisibility Spellbook: Dispel Magic 7, Encounter: Fire Burst 9, Daily: Mordenkainen’s Sword Spellbook: Wall of Fire Spellbook: Ice Storm 10, Utility: Blur Spellbook: Arcane Gate

ITEMS Spellbook, Adventurer’s Kit, Veteran’s Leather Armor +3, Voidcrystal Longsword +3, Staff of Ruin +3, Bracers of Mental Might (heroic tier), Luckbender Gloves (heroic tier), Diadem of Acuity (heroic tier), Centering Cincture (heroic tier), Bag of Holding (heroic tier), Potion of Healing (heroic tier) (6), Scroll of Comprehend Language, Scroll of Tenser’s Floating Disk (3), Scroll of Eye of Alarm (2), Residuum (Any) (527), Thieves’ Tools, Ring of Spell Storing (paragon tier), Cloak of Distortion +2, Sandals of Precise Stepping (epic tier), Eye of Finch, UnFinished Sword Blade, Crystal Mammoth, Were-Bane Arrows, Potion – Gold Liquid Vial, Magical Cuffs, Potion – Blue Liquid Flask, Scroll- Summon Sincarnos, Potion – Green Liquid Vial

RITUALS Comprehend Language, Brew Potion, Silence, Tenser’s Floating Disk, Eye of Alarm, Detect Secret Doors, Enchant Magic Item, Disenchant Magic Item, Phantom Steed, Shadow Bridge, Water Breathing

Tayreth stands just shy of 6’ and has a slender, but muscular build. While his hair remains lustrous and gold, it is cut fairly short and left unkept. Usually it has streaks of black, left over from dyes that he uses to help increase his stealth. His skin is pale and an angry red scar remains, running the length of the right side of his face. He wears a simple black leather eye patch to cover the burnt out shell of his right eye-socket. Like all Eladrin his hands are long and slender, with delicate fingers. Tayreth is missing the two smallest fingers on his right hand. Severed at the first knuckle, he sometimes covers the stumps with supple black leather gloves. Usually he doesn’t bother.

Currently he wears finely crafted leather armor and a bandolier containing many daggers runs across his chest and he wears a simple leather backpack when traveling. An obviously magical cloak, spun from blue silk, usually hides the pack. The cloak continuously flows about him like the waves of a tumultuous sea. Those standing further than 25 feet away have difficulty clearly seeing him. A simple brown leather belt and pouch keep his robes in place, and an eye catching crystal longsword hangs from it on his right hip. He always carries a non-descript black iron staff in his mangled hand. Careful observers will notice tiny runes carved around the diameter at its tip.

Tayreth smokes hand rolled cigarettes on a regular basis. A pack of smoking herb and a sheaf of thin rolling leaves can always be found in his pouch, next to his coin. He lights them using minor magic.

Bio:

The sickly smell of decay hangs in the air with a limp wetness. Pools of blood and piss crawl across the cold hard stone floor. Rusting black iron bars encircle too many prisoners, caged like stock and treated worse. The ruined faces of friends and family stare blankly forward with milky dead eyes. For the living only pain and hunger remain.

Thoughts of the women must be abandoned, the despair is too great. Sometimes their screams can be heard and it is harder then, harder to ignore. It’s been awhile since their screams have been heard, but they can be heard now. Some must still be alive, kept as slaves, kept for…. Can’t think about that, can’t think about anything.

Unknown time passes, the great mystery.

Dim evil red light follows the agonized groan of a swollen heavy wooden door. Two shadowy hulking forms with knotted limbs appear, grunting to each other in the foul language of trolls. Hate-filled mocking laughter sounds the same in any language, but the trolls have perfected it. Rage bubbles up, coming from deep within. It burns, it has a taste, it has a smell. Must remain still no matter what. The iron door opens and the two creatures move into the cell, no longer concerned with caution. They begin kicking the bodies and poking with their cruel barbed spears looking for a twitch or listening for a moan. Try not to flinch. The clawed foot feels like a demon’s morning star and ribs snap like twigs in a storm. Must remain still. One of them grunts something sounding like approval and the two grab a skeletal prisoner. Raspy croaks of protest and tearless crying come from the chosen one. He was familiar once, maybe a friend, maybe family. The memory blessedly fades. Will Corellon forgive? At least, for that one, it will be over soon.

Remember the time when….? Remember how we used to……?

The cool water drips from the ceiling with agonizing slowness, so infrequent that the others failed to notice its existence. Each drop is precious, liquid life. Corellon will not forgive. His punishment is the constant frigid pain that blasts a trail across bone and muscle. Lungs lay heavy, images of slime filled sacks slowly leaking their putrid contents onto a cracked barren desert floor. Must not cough. Drawing breath takes more vigor than is available, not much longer now.

Dreams within nightmares, fear to fall while falling with the fallen.

Alone. Maybe the fiends have forgotten, maybe they have left and moved on. Regardless, it is safe to move now. Choices. Hunt or try to escape, no energy for both. There is a solution if only the mind will quicken enough to capture it. Listen, focus attention to the floor and wait. There it is! The sharp faint sound of chitin on stone. Carefully follow the breath of sound, track it with mind and hand. Feel its eight sharp legs crawl across your trap, wait for it. Victory. Repeat.

Dark cruel laughter, a string of guttural words pound in your ears. It is so loud. “Ha Ha Ha… Gumter told Mikos slave still alive. No believe Gumter. Gumter win, get juicy elf eyes”.

Door opens, twisted brutal form outlined in portal. Outsmarted by a fucking troll. Corellon, let it end swiftly. More wretched troll talk as Gumter explains the situation to Mikos. Mikos does not sound pleased to have lost the prize. Pushing Gumter aside the other monster lumbers through the doorway, and angrily moves to the cell with a hellish swiftness. The door is thrust open. It was unlocked… A Malignant hand reaches down and brutally transports its fragile cargo into the air and out into the red-lit room. The room is warm and although it is dimly lit the radiance is akin to a thousand white-hot suns burning the gelatinous organs, the prize.

Quick movement all around; too much to process, head spins. Mind reels taking it all in; wooden table littered with half eaten legs and arms, fire pit glowing with smoldering blood red coals, decapitated heads scattered across the floor, another massive wooden door hanging slightly ajar, a curious slender cage suspended from the ceiling empty but covered in blood, large rough hewn tunnels snaking away from this madness.

The agony of being thrust into the too small, bloodied cage brings darkness.

Horrific screeching lifts the veil of unconsciousness. The troll duo stands menacingly close by. Yellowed, bloodstained, broken teeth grin horribly. More cruel laughter as one draws forward a nightmare held by a thick iron chain. A shiny huge black spider flecked with red, green and blue lightning patterns lurches hungrily towards the cage as its dozen yellow eyes spot its next meal. Eight long barbed legs, ending in razor sharp bone, pull with mighty strength against the troll’s iron leash. The chain is connected to the monstrosity’s back two legs, preventing it from getting away. The troll yells at the spider and yanks it viciously back. The thing stretches its wicked mandibles out an impossibly long distance in an attempt to feed on the caged prey, but screams in frustration as its master denies it.

The other troll moves forward and speaks in broken common, “Like crawlies, huh? I think Mikos crawly wants to play”. Mikos-troll gives the leash just enough slack and the spider lunges forward crashing against the cage, repeatedly thrashing madly with its knife-like legs.

No space to move. The mind fills with stark terror, the room narrows to include only the eight-legged demon intent on ripping flesh. Its yellow hell-filled eyes become as large as funereal pyres. Both trolls howl in laughter as the smell of fresh piss and shit fills the air. This amusement goes on and just enough strength is found to bellow pleas, cries, and prayer. Corellon does not listen.

Perhaps feeling pity for its chained pet, the Mikos-troll gives the leash just enough slack and a razor leg flips outward slicing a deep wound across brow and cheek. Vision fills with hot blood. The smell of acid-burnt flesh and the sounds of suffering fill the room. Fear keeps the pain away as the spider fights with renewed energy. Vise-like mandibles shear through flesh and bone ruining two fingers from a once delicate hand. Amber acid drips from the wounds and onto the cage. The creature quickly pulls the two little morsels into its ravenous maw. Overcome with glee, Mikos-troll lets go of the chain. Taking advantage of the opportunity a single thin liquid black blade-leg stabs forward through the cage and pierces into its target. Hurt explodes as field-of-vision is reduced by half. The spider-demon pulls its leg-spear back and curiously examines the plucked white eye stuck at the tip before shoving it into its chitin face. The empty ruined socket bubbles with burning amber acid.

Gumter-troll angrily screams at both spider and master as one-half his “winnings” are given up. Mikos-troll is doubled over with laughter and doesn’t notice his companion’s rage, which further infuriates the green muscled Gumter-troll. Revenge fills his black eyes and two large deformed hands grab Mikos-troll’s head and twist. A loud snap is heard and the massive body falls heavily to the uncaring stone floor. Gumter-troll stands defiantly over the slain beast and fails notice that the giant demon spider’s eyes have looked his way. He has no way of knowing that an evil intelligence (and hunger) works within its mucus-filled head. With an insect screech born from the promise of freedom, the spider leaps forward onto the back of the hapless troll. A deadly stinger erupts from its bloated abdomen, dripping more amber liquid. Black smoke rises as the acidic poison drips onto and eats away the stone underneath. With malice the spider plunges the stinger into the troll’s lower back. Agony-filled screams erupt from the surprised giant. Twisting awkwardly, Gumter-troll manages to grab the demon-creature and the two fall to the floor wrestling for their lives. The battle is short, but filled with spider shrieks, troll screams and, from the cage, soft maniacal giggling.

That is the memory that fills the Eladrin Tayreth’s mind’s eye whenever he tries to meditate. His life before is too far away to be relevant, and much of his life immediately after his imprisonment is all but a blur.

To be brief, Tayreth remembers hearing a soft strong voice urging him to open the cage door. To his surprise, when he tried, the door opened easily. The lock had been badly damaged from the acid dripping from his wounds. Unable to walk, he crawled out of the cage and passed out on the floor of the cavern. The same soft voice awoke him sometime later. Lying on the floor he looked up and saw a shimmering Eladrin warrior, with hair of pure silver, dressed as a king, and a magnificent long sword was at his hip. Tayreth believed it was Corellon.

The god looked sadly at the once beautiful fey. Bones poked through pale sore-riddled skin, his mouth held only rotted teeth, and his head held few wisps of hair where once a thick mane flowed like spun copper. The recent wounds he had just suffered completed the transformation. Nonetheless, the god of beauty knelt down and drew his pitiful child to his feet. Tayreth began sobbing and did not stop for a long time. With Corellon’s help he walked from the troll den and out into the Feywild. Days passed and the two slowly made their way through the dense forests. Eventually the two stopped to rest at a small clear pool filled with golden fish. Corellon helped Tayreth lay down and bid him to sleep. Tayreth replied, “but Lord, we do not sleep”. Corellon smiled knowingly and said, “Yes child, but sleep”. The Eladrin smiled and slept.

When he awoke it was to find that Corellon had left, but a well-armed hunting party of Eladrin had found him. At first they almost killed him thinking that he was some foul beast. A wizened mage, named Alsidiris, stopped the slaughter before harm was done. Once he was able to tell his story Tayreth learned that he had been imprisoned for three years. Many of the hunting party remembered the troll raid and had friends belonging to Tayreth’s village.

The only part of the story that was disputed was how he was found. When the hunting party found him, Tayreth was crawling on hands and knees through the wood. When he saw the hunting party, a strange smile came upon his face; he lay down and became unconscious. The mage patiently explained to all of them that the truth of their reality did not eliminate the truth of the Tayreth’s.

The Eladrin hunting party took him back to their village, located in a beautiful valley. Thus began the long process of Tayreth’s rehabilitation. In some ways it went better than expected. A great feast was held for his return and for surviving the ordeal. At the celebration a magic cloak and staff were given to him as gifts. He also began the intense study of the arcane arts under the tutelage of Alsidiris. In his spare time he learned the arts of lock picking, escape, sleight of hand and the silent kill. His passion became the quest for knowledge, specifically arcane knowledge. Alsidiris found him to be an extremely capable student and knew then that it would not be long before he would have little more to teach him. His hair and teeth grew back and he eventually became stronger than he had been before the raid.

Tayreth’s reintegration into Eladrin society did not go so well. He often was unable to meditate, as memories of his imprisonment would come flooding back to him. Often he would have waking nightmares and sometimes even confuse those around him with his troll captors. His disfigured body never healed fully regardless of the prayers employed. Not being accustomed to dealing with ugliness, most of the Eladrin shunned him. The children mocked him and their parents did little to discourage the teasing. Periods of time would pass were he would be overcome by deep depression and guilt for having done what it took to survive, possibly at the expense of the others who were held.

One day Tayreth decided that he needed to leave. Those around him only reminded him of the past and he needed to move on. As his arcane prowess increased he became afraid that he might hurt someone. Alsidiris told him he understood and maybe it was for the best, if it didn’t work out he could always come back. Tayreth could tell that the mage would be relieved to have him gone from the village, probably for the very reasons he wanted to go. As a parting gift, Alsidiris gave him a fine set of leather armor stating, “Magic alone will not protect you from blades of iron, at least not yet”. Soon afterward Tayreth left the village, and could almost feel the collective sigh of relief as he passed forever out of the valley.

The lone Eladrin eventually left the darkly beautiful forests of the Feywild. He no longer belonged here. His soul belonged to Corellon, and always would, but that which connected him to the children of Corellon had been smothered by darkness and plucked out by nightmarish evil.

Now he wanders the world of men. He has developed a sharp tongue and cold demeanor to protect him against the jibs of others. Having been born to the magnificence of the Feywild he finds much to critique about the world around him. He has learned that the best way to correct incompetence is to humiliate. He has also sworn to always get revenge on those who hurt him. Unfortunately, his departure from the village and the Feywild have done little to reduce his waking nightmares and whenever he closes his eyes he sees eight yellow hate-filled ones staring back at him.

Tayreth

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