Character Descriptions

[VemuKhaham]

Yesterday I said I would post up my favourite character build. However, it might be fun to see more people posting their fav characters here. It could be a cool collection. Anyway, post away, I'm gonna start with mine.

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The ways of the gods can be hard for mortals to detect at times,
Though I know that the ways of mortals
Can sometimes be nigh invisible

~ Mathan

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I am not a violent man, my Lord. These words coming from a man with my history and reputation must be hard for one to believe. I know this. Perchance, I may be able to convince you of the truth of my words in the following letters.

I write them to you for a small hope for redemption. I must confess in all honesty however, that at times during my long hours of writing, my hearth was greatly burdened to remain objective about my own scribblings; the weakness of arrogance oftentimes has the tendency to take over and redirect my hand across the blank sheets, in a manner that I wouldn’t want it to. I know of this weakness, for my tutor pointed it out to me, but knowing it is only the first step in a long process. My tutor pointed that out to me too.

I’ve started thinking that even now, that I am beginning to feel the taint of aging in my bones, I cannot succeed in discovering what that second step may be.

And again, my arrogance has brought me astray from my path. Neither the wise men of the grove nor the tutors at the monastery have been able to guide me sufficiently, it would seem. The pain it burdens me with is not just painful; it constantly burns my conscience like a thousand ants crawling over it. The monks did tell me that I should be able to guide myself, and the druids spoke of me as one of their equals and therefore I should act like one. But there are other forces inside me, pulling me back and forth across a line, and I feel helpless, only able to go with the strongest pull. The pull that is my weakness; the pull that was enforced by Araan, Spirit Master of the Holy Mist.

Araan has been the inevitable in a life full of contradictions, confusions and contingencies. I must now see whichever I prefer; the inevitable, or the struggle against it.

[VemuKhaham]

For you, I shall start at the beginning, oh great Lord of the Heavens. Call me a fool, call me a hero, but I will bow to your judgement. For you are that which ascends above mortal affairs, above the affairs that bother us so much to the point of despair. I pray to you, Pedhos*, for your guidance.

My parents I have never truly known, though I think I know everything about them that there is to learn. They were both druids in the grove, respected and loved, but when they gave birth to me there was a disorder of some kind in the woods. Who else then both my parents, along with some others, went out to deal with whatever was causing the fuss. Though the problem was dealt with, my parents never returned. According to the returning woodsmen they fell in the battle with an undead creature of great strength. I was told they had died. It would be considered one of my lineage’s many heroic deeds, but I was left with only the many tales of their lives that the druids could provide me with.

To honour the lineage of Chevru, and secure its threatened continuation, Grand Druid Weldon himself made it his task to raise me as his own. He was an elderly man with no wife (she died long ago) and no children to continue the established line of Grand Druids. How convenient was it to him and the entire grove that they needn’t fear a dire strife for leadership after Weldon would pass, leaving no follower, now that such a prominent newborn could be appointed as the new heir to Grand Druidship. So were my thoughts at the moment, the thoughts of a young child growing up in the midst of old bearded scholars, both powerful and headstrong in their ways. I was educated for the soul purpose of filling an empty vacancy.

They educated me too well. Even though their attempts at brainwashing my young spirit into the ways of balance and order were cunningly constructed with material of wisdom and knowledge obtained through centuries of study and experience, they also taught me to think as a protector of the individual, the underdog and the oppressed. I was intelligent enough to put their learning into practice though, and concluded that in my direct surroundings there were no individuals as oppressed as I was. I was the underdog in this grove, and I had to stand up for myself. I had to protect myself.

I ran away. I left no notes. I had no regrets. No doubts. I had grown up and put the learning of the wise men into practice. I was a man who had learned to survive on his own, and I did well. I was only twenty years in age by then, but I felt like I could conquer the world.

My meanderings led me to a place outside the woods. I spend time in the city of Vredesburcht for a while, and lived among humans I had never met before. These men were so different from the old bearded men in the grove; they were alive, free, and everything I had missed in the druids. They were what I longed for, or so I thought at first. When I spend more time among the city-folk, I became aware that the always present and lively noise of the crowds on the streets was just a mask for the individual that hid inside it. City-folk were narrow-minded, self-centred fools unable to comprehend morality or to grow a spine of their own.

Needless to say, I was about to leave the city to roam the lands further, when I met Abelard, a man my age who was dressed all in simple dark brown robes and seemed immune to all the noise of the city-folk around him. He walked the streets with his arms folded and his eyes piercing right through all the artificiality of the surroundings. I decided to approach him, if only for the stoic impression he gave me.

‘Is there something I can do for you, mister?’ he said in an unmoved voice as I halted him. He wasn’t startled at all, or so he made appear.
‘Forgive me, good sir, my name is Chouji. The robes you wear gave me the impression you might help me.’ I asked boldly.
‘Well met then, for I am searching for those like you. My name is Abelard, and if you wish you can come with me to the monastery. I tell you true, you wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find people with a mind in a city as crowded as this!’ For the first time he showed emotion, with a broad smile as he made his last remark.
‘And you, Abelard, wouldn’t believe *me* when I told you how much I agree with you on that!’

I spoke with him as if I had known him for years, and in fact, I think I did, just a little. I had grown up with people with a good pair of brains, and during my time in the city I was looking for someone like that again. Abelard was that someone.

Of course I followed him, along with some other curious men and women of like mind, to the monastery just outside the city, situated in a picturesque landscape in the countryside. On our way there, Abelard and I talked, and we both noticed that we agreed on everything. He told me of the monastery, which he called the Monastery of the Secluded Soul, a name I rather liked. I and Abelard and the others entered the building. It was a beautiful structure, if only for its absolute simplicity. It was well taken care of, and it had a fine and expansive garden around it, with a vegetable garden and a small farm with sheep, goats and chickens roaming freely, shepherded by at least two monks at a time. Everyone there breathed the very air of peace. There were no hostilities, no discontent and everyone did their tasks, not only for the greater good, but also for themselves. I never knew these two ideals could be combined in one person. I thought I had found my destiny.

Abelard then introduced me to my tutor, Sirian, a very tall man dressed in the same robes as everyone around here, with a round, bald head and heavy eyebrows. He didn’t spend all his life in a library, nor did he think true wisdom could come from outside. All one could do, he said to me, was to harbour and stimulate that which lies within, so that it will become invulnerable to the outside world. Only then could a person live in harmony with himself and its direct surroundings.

I was awed by every word he spoke. I was inspired by that man so much, that I from then on turned away from my old life and became one of the order of the Secluded Soul. After a long training by Sirian, he told me that I was talented, and that I perhaps had what it took to become a warrior monk among the Secluded Souls. But I said I had had enough of the outside people and their foolish ways; I wished to spend my live here in peace like the other monks did. Being a warrior monk would only drive me back to the world where I had been at first.

‘Your past has hardened your soul like hands are hardened by callus after hard work. Not many of our students possess this trait, but it does give you a certain resistance to outside influences. That is what a warrior monk needs, Chouji. If you would remain here I as your tutor feel that a great opportunity was missed!’ I hadn’t seen Sirian this excited ever. He trained me to what I was then, and I knew I had never felt better in my life. He would know what’s best for me.
‘What am I to do then, to become a warrior monk?’ I asked him, before I agreed to anything.
Sirian looked at me with a frown in his thick dark eyebrows, and I could tell that something serious was about to come. ‘If you would have to choose what you feel most vulnerable to from all the outside influences, then what would that be?’
The answer left my mouth quicker then I realised. ‘The grove’, I said headstrong.
‘It is as I expected. In order to initiate your training as a warrior monk, you shall have to seek out your weakest spot and make sure you conceal your soul from it, or better yet… make it one with your soul, so that you may grow.’
I was shocked to learn of this task. After all, it was indeed my weakest spot. ‘I shall do as you ask.’

It was four years since Chouji left the grove that he made his way to return to it. Many questions arose in his head. Would Weldon still be alive? Would he welcome him or would the druids shun him for his desertion? He feared what it was that he would run into, but it was fear that Sirian warned him for. ‘Fear is the gate for outside influences to taint the soul. One must remain ever vigilant to prevent this.’ He was angry for what he found they had done to him, but it was anger that Sirian warned him for. ‘Anger is the most dangerous yet also most common warning of outside influences in your soul. When it appears, conquer it and ban it out.’

*Pedhos: Father of Gods in the DM's homebrewn world. He is of good alignment.

[VemuKhaham]

And by pondering on these thoughts, he found his old home, deep in the forest. He would have certainly been spotted by a wandering group of druids that would surely have recognised him, if not at a sudden these druids where alarmed by a wolf that came running past at top speed, which gave Chouji some time to hide.

The druids passed, but the wolf returned. It was a young beast with a pitch black fur, probably not more then two years of age. He looked at Chouji inquisitively as he sat there with wagging tail, while the man was trying to remain quiet for the druids. He tried to shoo the playful beast away, but he didn’t obey. Instead he was playing with Chouji’s hand as he waved at him to go away.

When the druids were far off and danger had gone, Chouji rose and was planning on remaining on his set path. It was then that the wolf ran into another direction, and it was clear that he wanted Chouji to follow. He even obstructed Chouji’s path while he ignored him, and at last Chouji gave in and decided to give the animal a chance to show what it was pointing to.

They walked for a while through the thick forest, and Chouji began to doubt more and more why he trusted the wolf so much. And then, it struck him, as he stumbled upon an open glade in the forest. The wolf quickly went ahead to the middle of the glade, where Chouji saw something that looked like a monument to him. Curious, he walked to it and found his name on the grave: Chevru. It was the grave of both his parents, he immediately realised, and he hadn’t seen it in four years. He started to cry and fell on his knees, why he didn’t even know for he had never known them. It just pained him greatly.

Then, a voice came from behind him, deep and somehow familiar: ‘Here rest Edran and Ravynne Chevru. May they rest in peace, Chouji.’

‘Who said that?’ Chouji quickly rose and turned around, ready to defend himself, but he found an old man instead of a monster. He knew him, for he was Weldon the Grand Druid, but he looked decades older then four years ago. His beard was ragged, his hear was bolding and his skin had rippled even more. He looked bad, not just old though, like he had been neglecting himself.
‘It’s me, Chouji. I’m glad to see that even now you still walk with animals.’ He looked at the little wolf, which immediately came towards him, still wagging his tail silly. Chouji realised he had been led here, to the grave of his parents. He eyed Weldon confusedly. The druid laughed.
‘Even though you may regard us as old, absent-minded wisecracks, it is still hard, even for a monk such as you, to enter a druid-inhabited wood undetected.’ Mathan’s confusion grew, for the old man seemed to know everything he had done while away. The still naïve Chouji then asked him: ‘How do you know all this?’
Again Weldon laughed, this time more aloud: ‘I don’t know what came up in that head of yours that made you think you would find a group of old seniles when you would return here, but I do know what it is that made you leave in the first place.’
Chouji stood still and listened in amazement.

‘I must admit that we have done a horrible job in considering your opinion in many matters, including your destiny to become Grand Druid, but you seemed like such a boy at the time. I now see that we were wrong in thinking this: you are wise and intelligent, yet naïve and perhaps a bit spoiled.’ He spoke lightly. ‘Your leaving made us all reconsider what we have done, and therefore you have chosen well when you left. You actually did what we should’ve done, thereby surpassing even me in wisdom.’ Still his voice was light, and Chouji listened patiently to the man’s confessions. Yet, suddenly his voice became grave, and his face looked even older as he lowered his head in sorrow. ‘But that is not the only reason I wished to speak with you before you entered the grove and the other druids would find you. Besides neglecting your opinion, I have done another, even more horrible thing to you, my son.’ Chouji didn’t know why, but Weldon put quite a bit of emphasis on “my son”. ‘I brought you here, upon the grave of your father and mother, for another reason. We told you your parents had died. Their graves give a year of death that is now twenty-four years ago. This is not the exact truth, Chouji. Instead of having died, your father and mother are missing. It was never clear if they had died. We knew this.’
Chouji’s hearth skipped a beat, and he became furious. ‘You should have told me the truth, Weldon! They were my parents! There should’ve been a search!’
Weldon sighed, for he well knew his mistake. ‘It was druid policy, Chouji. If your parents would be considered missed instead of dead then there was no way I could adopt you as my son. You were without parents, I without an heir. I thought we needed each other, my son. Through you I wanted to continue my lineage!’
‘And therefore you constructed this fake grave? To provide you with a worthy heir for your lineage you had to destroy another lineage? You are a disgrace to all! A disgrace to nature, and I refuse to ever succeed you if it means I will have to bear your pathetic name!” Chouji was raging, and he turned around to his parent’s fake grave and ravaged it completely. Weldon only stood there with head lowered, taking the insults hurled at him resigned.

Chouji walked away into the forest. He took a seat somewhere on a flattened rock to think. To his annoyance, when he sat there for awhile, he noticed the young wolf had again found his way towards him. He sat there at his feet, looking with his unknowing black eyes. But Chouji had little eye for the beast, for he was in thought. He was mocking about Weldon, and did so for a long time, until he thought of something Sirian said:
“Anger is the most dangerous yet also most common warning of outside influences in your soul. When it appears, conquer it and ban it out.”
It wasn’t easy, but for some reason, Chouji found the motivation to conquer his anger and the strength to ban it out. It was then that he knew that the past was the past and that Weldon was an old man who merely did what was best for the grove, me and himself, and for him there was a way to do this, be it with lies and deceit. It was hard to forgive Weldon, but it was, according to his teachings, the only way to deal with this matter and learn of it.

So he made his way to the grove itself. On their way he began to appreciate the ever cheerful nature of the young wolf that darted alongside him, never abandoning him. He decided to give a name to the wolf, so he called him Botolf, meaning Messenger Wolf. From then on, he began to grow attached to the black-furred, little, young wolf with his wagging tail, and they have never been away from each other for a long time and for a far distance ever since.

And then, he entered the grove. It hadn’t changed much, but what was to change in four years time if Weldon appeared to still be alive? The other druids recognised him too, and gathered around him fast like a traitor was found in their midst. But quickly enough, Weldon arrived at the scene and made a way through the men for Chouji to escape through. The discussion that followed between the druids was one of harsh tones, and the offensive came with a large first strike, trying to quickly eliminate any footage underneath Grand Druid Weldon. The many old, long-bearded men fired their arguments with fiercer voices then Chouji ever witnessed coming from a human being. They were with many, and followed each other up in rapid succession.

‘He is an intruder and a deserter! How could you possibly imply that he is still fit to follow you in your footsteps?’
‘Yes, it is not your blood running through his veins, Weldon! For all we know, he has ill intentions. There is no way he will find a place among us after what he did, let alone become the leader of the grove!’
‘Not only should he be banned; he knows the druidic rituals and traditions. He might be a risk to the blessed secrecy of the druidic language! He shouldn’t be allowed to ever leave this place again!’

Weldon however, showed that he still was capable of retaliating with strong words as well. He was frenzied by their words, infuriated that his own people had forgotten their own errors to ease their minds.

‘You call yourselves figureheads who set examples for others in the grove to follow? Your words speak of ignorance; ignorance to your own erroneous ways! You may well have forgotten the past and our common conspiracy, and have left the lineage of Chevru for granted, but now the last and only rightful heir to my succession has returned and you will obey him! You owe it to him! You owe him your obedience!’

[VemuKhaham]

He held his arms high and wide, and his figure was dark, his stature suddenly increased as if he had grown several feet in a few seconds. The other druids however already were on the verge of responding with an even greater flurry of words, when Chouji stepped in the middle and spoke up for himself.

‘Stop this madness! I came here to tell you that the past should be left behind! I came here in the hopes that you had done so as well, and that we can leave it at that! My father and mother have been taken from me, whatever the truth I have learned of now, and you have conspired against me and I have deserted you. Now let it be forgotten. Let us have peace at last…’

Chouji hesitates a moment, but then follows through, before the now momentarily surprised faces of the druids return to angry looks of distrust.

‘And if it is required of me in order to achieve this peace, then I am willing to put aside my heritage to Grand Druidship, however sorry I am to Weldon.’

A silence falls over the grove. Many others besides the higher druids that were here at first have gathered around to see what transpires here, but all are silent. Then, Weldon is the first to break the silence.

‘Then so be it. Chouji shall be granted re-entry into our sacred grove, if he still wishes so, and he will retain any freedoms he had while he was abroad. At the same time, he shall heed the laws of the grove, and honour the sanctity of our secret rituals and language. He shall not inherit my leadership as was decided upon before, and he shall officially return to the lineage of Chevru. Instead of a successor, after my passing to the realm of spirits a new leader can only be born through the ancient ritual tests. Until the time of this occurrence, the grove shall be led by the council of the High Druids, with no one Grand Druid in their midst. They shall together ensure the survival of the sacred grove. Such is my decision.’

The spontaneous gathering of the council of High Druids seemed to have ended then and there. All of the druids seemed relatively content, and some even nodded before they turned their backs to them to continue their work. Weldon was relieved, but reluctant in the knowledge that his lineage would die, unless Chouji should ever consider to take on the ancient ritual tests. It wasn’t on the monk’s mind however. Nevertheless, Weldon managed to fabricate a smile, and he spoke, before returning to his own abode: ‘You are wise indeed. You will do honour upon your lineage, and you carry your name well. You are already well-versed in the ways of the druid from your childhood on, and little there is that we can still teach you. You will have to do as you see best, and then you will learn. You are a druid that should not be caught with responsibilities like leadership. You are Mathan, a butterfly. You should be free. I will not cage you, pretty though you are. It is the way of the druid.’

He didn’t need to cage me for me to become entangled by the beauty of the grove though. I was wiser now then before, and with the inner strength and peace that the monks of the Secluded Soul had given me, I could bear the devastating reactions of the High Druids, and the fact that they and the Grand Druid had all conspired against me. I became clustered to the grove, and my name Mathan seemed to hit a tense chord inside the druids, so for six years I didn’t hear the name Chouji. For six years, I was Mathan, but Mathan was not only a druid. Mathan was also a monk of the Secluded Soul. He wasn’t afraid to look to the outside world like the other Secluded Souls, but neither was he as susceptible to the emotions I called pettiness that seemed to plague all others. Therefore I decided to silently abandon my old name, Chouji, for he never succeeded in being both druid and monk. He was both, as being only one of the two has brought only misery. My family name, Chevru, somehow disappeared from my memory in those six years. I didn’t visit the monument of my parents, didn’t need to worry about Weldon’s succession, and nobody ever mentioned the name now that I was Mathan anymore anyway. And with the name, so do the memories around it fade, and the mystery involving my parents faded into oblivion.

And so I lived among the druids, and Botolf grew to become a very mature and patient wolf. When I look in his eyes today, I still feel the strength that he gave me when I had to make one of the toughest decisions of my life. Six years went by, when I heard the news that had been feared for so long in the entire grove. Grand Druid Weldon had died in his sleep at the fine age of ninety-three.

And when he died, so did something of the grove die with him, and it was the part that appealed to me the most. The wishes of Weldon were honoured, and the High Druids had come to respect me and Weldon’s decision, and I thought that it was a good time to leave. And so I did. And of course I did not do so alone, for Botolf wouldn’t let me. He left his home with me and together we ventured further, making our way back to the monastery. I was proud, for I felt I had done everything Sirian had told me to. I had accepted the past, and overcome my greatest weakness by making it one with my soul. I was ready for initiation of the warrior monk’s training.

And Sirian agreed. My welcome back was a pleasant one, and I was especially glad to see Abelard was still doing fine. Abelard was a warrior monk as well, and he guided me through everything I needed to learn along with Sirian, and it appeared I was a great warrior monk. My moves were swift, my attacks were speedy and my body was of adamantine. I was young, strong and extremely wise and confident for a man my age. I impressed many a fellow student with my divine magic, and it proved a most lethal combination in any fight.

I quickly passed the training course for warrior monk, and as such I became Mathan, Warrior Monk of the Secluded Soul.
I became a proud man with a story. I had connections, power, confidence, strength, wisdom and peace. I was a warrior monk, and therefore not bound by the walls of the monastery, and as such I travelled back and forth from the monastery to the grove. I also travelled to other places, unknown to me and most others, where I was to seek either initiates for the Secluded Soul or root out disturbances in Mother Nature. I was blessed by the gods, for Botolf made sure that never I was alone. With his help, I never failed in finding initiates or protecting the balance, and the adventures made me stronger and wiser. But it also brought up another side of me for which I had been warned many a time: it was my pride that awoke my arrogance and it was my arrogance that ignited endless ambitions. The warnings were stated clear and often, but my successes made me blind to them.

And then I met Araan. He was the drop that flooded the bucket, the ignition of my route to demise. All the conditions were there, boiling inside me; ambition, strife, greed, arrogance and a history of only successes. Araan was the man that brought them above so that these hidden feelings took over.

I met Araan in the city nearby the monastery. I was to argue with him over a dispute between the Secluded Soul and the Holy Mist, an organisation of the occult that Araan had not long ago founded, which had made many people fear all the ‘superstitious’ organisations that were around, including the Secluded Soul. It was obvious that the Holy Mist had sinister rituals like human sacrifice and more. It was also known to associate with powerful magicians of uncertain loyalties, reputable assassins searched after by the law, or corrupt noblemen, clerics and politicians that had monetary dealings with them, mostly illegal of course. Mathan was told he could find Araan in an abandoned cottage in a bad part of the city, and indeed he did. He was prepared for much, for his experience was vast, but Araan proved to be an extremely charismatic individual…

Araan was seated behind a massive stone desk, and the room was lit by only a few candles on it. Two large armed men stood at each site of the room. Araan didn’t move a muscle when he saw Mathan entering the room. Instead, he looked down on him from the small elevation on which his seat was positioned.

‘You are Mathan, Warrior Monk of the Secluded Soul, are you not? Well met, my name is Araan, Spirit Master of the Holy Mist, but to most people I am the Vampire. You may call me Araan however, if I may call you Chouji. Introductions aside, let’s talk about the ‘collision’ that bothers you between both our organisations…’
He began with an impressive collection of knowledge surrounding Mathan and his business here. Mathan simply answered: ‘You and I indeed have matters to discuss. The Secluded Souls are fond of their flawless reputation, but the appearance of this blood gang of yours has seriously tainted our good name.’

[VemuKhaham]

Before Mathan could continue, Araan had already interrupted him boldly: ‘How can it be tainted because of our doings when we have never had any kind of dealings with your stubborn people? Chouji, you know we have no profit in the slandering of the Secluded Soul’s good name. I fear it is the reverse that is more true, my friend. We are a competing faction, and even though we are in our right to exist, your people hate to see their unplucked souls lost because of our promising nature to newcomers. That said, I think you too could profit well from some form of cooperation between us. You are a man without a future while you remain the way you are. Of course you have power, of course you have respect, but you have no future, while you could have the world at your feet, Chouji! And I am not only speaking of money, but also the blessing of people far above the tutors at your monastery or the druids in your grove. You have come to the point where you cannot grow any longer, despite the teachings of both druids and monks. However, even I know that both their teachings require of you to grow. That opportunity, Chouji, lies here, within the Holy Mist.’
Before Mathan could refuse his offer, he had already continued his speech again. ‘Think about it, and come back when you have gathered your wits. Until that time, tell those who have sent you that the Holy Mist shall consider reducing their operations within the areas where the monastery tends to operate.’

Mathan was without words. He felt bad that the words of Araan actually attracted him. Had he outgrown the Secluded Souls and the druids of the grove? He did handle every mission he was sent on for them with ease, and he had already started making his own adaptations within the rules of the orders through combining both of them. Was he not wiser then them to see that only a combination of both extremes was the most viable way of life? There could be no doubt about that in Mathan’s mind, but was it worth a betrayal? Cause that it would be if he would take Araan’s offer.

Mathan returned to the monastery and brought the news Araan told him to bring, and the tutors stated they would hold Araan to it. But in the meanwhile, that was not what bothered the Warrior Monk. He spent the next few days wondering what to do, and eventually he decided that Araan was right. Above all, nobody really had to know of the betrayal so there would be no need to abandon his old life.

‘Good… good for you that you have chosen future above past. It proves of your competence to think individually, and you will need this, when you are not following your duties.

Important to know for you I think is that your life shall only make a change for the better, for your old life will remain *exactly* like you know it. You will function as a contact within the grove and the monastery, and if you comply with every request we desire of you, you will gain prestige among those who can reward such a virtue. Who knows, we may end up like equals, for I foresee a promising future for you. Now if you have no questions anymore, you may leave and you will hear of us when required.’

Mathan had no questions, for he understood perfectly what was to come. Little did he expect however, that he had what it took to earn a name within the underground, but sixteen years passed and he was everything Araan had promised him that day. He retained his old life, and in the beginning he fulfilled the demands of the agents of the Holy Mist, most often commissioned from way up by some wealthy noble or mage who had a taste for ancient luxury or knowledge. The monastery and grove had enough of that. But after a while, Mathan’s territory of operations needed to expand, for the monastery and grove were not profitable enough anymore. First Mathan explored the boundless corruption within the sanctity of the temples, then he negotiated with land owners and later he even became a friend of aristocrats with positions high in political areas. The cash flow was vast, the prestige better, and soon he even taught Araan how to call him by his true name: Mathan. Never however did he interfere with the more occult side of the Holy Mist, for he knew that it would ruin his mind and soul, and he operated only as a servant, not a believer. Nobody blamed him for it, for his service was good.

It was obvious that Mathan knew what he did was at times questionable, but it was ambition that drove him. There were however certain things that did change of his old life. It was Botolf, his loyal companion, who first began to distance himself from Mathan, both figurative and literally. Botolf never entered the city, but also when Mathan wandered the country, Botolf began to remain at a distance. He still followed him however, everywhere his boss went, for he was a loyal beast. Mathan didn’t realise what drove the wolf off, for he thought it was old age, as the wolf’s fur was beginning to turn grey.

And though Mathan had, by now, become old, wise and experienced in many arts, his biggest job had yet to come…

Here starts the plot hook for Mathan to get into the campaign currently running. It might be vague, but it would be too much work to tell the whole tale of the campaign here.

Araan summoned him on a late summer’s evening, when Mathan was busy in the garden of the monastery. That same evening, he presented himself before the Spirit Master, and learned that he was about to embark on a mission greater then any of his previous missions. Araan mentioned that it was a job that required the utmost of secrecy and care, for the commissioner of the task was well worth it.

‘Mathan, you are one of our organisation’s most cunning men, you have shown that to me and to everyone, and there is hardly anything that can make you fail a mission you have set your mind upon. That’s all fine and good, but I can imagine that it can become a bit tedious if the exciting part of the trade is gone. This job could be just the thing for you in that case.’ Araan always started with a bit of sliming, no matter how small the task, and Mathan had gotten used to it.
‘Just tell me what it is you want, Araan, for my time could have been better spend in the gardens waiting till violins grow past knee length.’ Mathan had nothing to fear from Araan, for he understood that in taking his insolence for granted there was wealth to be gained. In fact, Mathan could go way worse against his master then that and even make demands of which few others would ever survive the attempt.

‘Ah, well then let’s get this over with. I haven’t much time myself either. The anonymous commissioner of this request has asked for you specifically. Therefore, it would be worth your while to take the job. It is fairly simple however, for you need but join up with a group of adventurer’s and gather any information about their task and their party members. Oh, and before I forget the mentioning, you first need to travel to the Isle of Armalia. He was pretty vague about that part though, but he said that once there you’ll learn what to do next. Do you accept the task, cause only then can I give you the specifics, like the location of this rather unknown place you need to find?’
‘I accept.’ It seemed rather intriguing to Mathan, and he had already been waiting for an opportunity to hit the field again.
‘Great’, Araan answered quickly, before informing Mathan of everything he needed to know. The next morning, Mathan said goodbye to his monastery, saying he required himself a bit of solitude to refocus, and then went on to the grove, which happened to be on the road to Armalia. He related to the High Druids there the same excuse as he gave to the monastery. After that, he travelled further west, into unknown territories, where even he, Mathan the Warrior Monk of the Secluded Soul, Fellow Druid of the Sacred Grove of the elvenwoods and respected member of the Holy Mist, had never passed before…

[VemuKhaham]

Connections/Social circles:

Monastery:

Abelard: Abelard has been the most trusted and close friend of Mathan ever since he joined the Order of the Secluded Soul. They are about the same age, but that is not the end of their similarities. Ever since the two met, they have been best friends simply because they found they agreed on everything.
Abelard was born in the city of Vredesburg, but if he is to believe the stories, he was the product of a drunken senator who slipped up one night. Of course such a child would bring duties and worse, bad reputation, so he offered the mother a few gold pieces and peace if she would immediately after birth put the child in a monastery. This happened, and Abelard grew up as a Secluded Soul. He knows of this, but he never learned the name of his father or mother, so tracing them was impossible.
Abelard is a warrior monk like Mathan, and thus he too is burdened with the task of recruiting new souls. This is, as written in the story, the way Mathan and Abelard met in the first place.
Abelard is a LN human male 5th level monk of the Secluded Soul.

Sirian: Sirian is the tutor of Mathan in the monastery. He taught him everything he knows about the ways of the Secluded Souls, and therefore Mathan regards him highly, second only to the gods perhaps. The bald and extremely tall man demands respect from anyone, and he shows great wisdom and is ever true to the philosophy of the order.
Sirian isn’t very talkative about his past, and Mathan and any other student or member of the order knows little about it. It is obvious that there has been spun a long tale before Sirian decided to rest in the monastery however. It is only a rumor and even sort of a legend of admiration that Sirian would’ve one day been a common thief, who by accident robbed the right person and gained a fortune. He quickly learned that this wealth meant less then he had ever thought, and decided that it didn’t give him happiness. After that, he distributed the remainder among the poor and settled in the monastery. He was such a good student that quickly he was granted the title of tutor, and now he is even the leader of the monastery.
Sirian still is an ambitious man, but he knows how to keep all his emotions suppressed at all times. ‘Reading his face is like reading ancient elfish’, word goes around through the monastery. He is beginning to be old though, as he recently reached the age of fifty-nine.
Sirian is a LG human male 2nd level rogue/17th level monk of the Secluded Soul.

The Grove

Chevru Lineage: The Chevru Lineage goes back a long way, but as far as is remembered, even by elven bards, it has been a name associated to druidry. It is a line of humans living in the area between the elven woods and the Vredesburcht. It is also a very reputable lineage, used for songs by bards and for tales by druids, who proudly remember the days of old.
Closest to Mathan are his parents, Edran, his father, and Ravynne, his mother. Ravynne was of another line, named Ucatar, before she married Edran. Mathan has no brothers or sisters. He hardly knows any other family, for most of them have wandered beyond the grove, as is the druid’s tendency.
It is his great-great-grandfather that was known as one of the greatest among his lineage. This man, named Asyndion, was one day the savior of the Sacred Grove, when it stood on the verge of collapsing. The Grove was attacked by a great demon, Temauron, and his countless minions. They attacked through a gate, angry to the druids because of a reason they have never admitted: one of their kin was accused of taking a horn from the demon Temauron. When almost the entire grove had been destroyed, Asyndion, who had been hit unconscious during the fight, rose again and found the strength to battle Temauron and close the gate at the same time. Temauron was never slain, but if he hadn’t fled before Asyndion had closed the gate, he would have surely died there. It is still feared by the druids that one day Temauron will return for revenge, and then Asyndion will not be there to defend them.

Grand Druid: The Grand Druid is the head of the entire grove, and basically has the final say in all its actions. He is normally appointed by birth right, but in the event that a Grand Druid does not have a suitable heir, the next Grand Druid can only be appointed through the Ancient Ritual Test, an old decree that is so old that currently some of the druids have begun to doubt whether it is still ethically correct; such is the danger involved in trying it. However, the Test still stands, and now, after Weldon’s passing, it is used again. Until someone succeeds however, the High Druids have full governing power.
The Ancient Ritual Test – The Test is extremely hard and dangerous. It is constructed so that only with the proper use of the knowledge and powers given to true druids one can best it. The exact task to be done is up to the DM.
Weldon – Though Weldon died at an age of ninety-three, when Mathan had spend six years at the grove after his return there, he is still worthy of a notion here. Weldon was an old man already even when Mathan was born, and he adopted Mathan to find a successor and to protect Mathan after his parents were lost. The druid himself never got any children for his wife died at an early age.
Weldon was the typical druid: he had a long grey beard, long grey hair and looked very wise. He grew up in the grove he became Grand Druid of, as his line, Athol, had provided the Grand Druids for a long time. Weldon spend most of his life in the grove, as he was more of a scholar then a warrior, but his intellect was respected. He was only son, and therefore his parents and the Council of High Druids wouldn’t have wanted it any other way: he was their only heir after all.
Weldon, despite his age, has never lost his mind; it only grew. He had a light sense of humor, took beauty in the little things of life and guided the grove with care, and under his guidance it had peace throughout his entire reign. His death was a loss to all within the grove, especially to Mathan, who departed soon after.

[VemuKhaham]

High Druids: The Sacred Grove of the druids has been ruled by a Grand Druid as long as it has existed, but despite this single individual has the final say on everything that happens in the grove, it has always been advised by his loyal council of High Druids. Also, it is an important rule among the druids that it is possible for the High Druids to dethrone the Grand Druid, but only if the Grand Druid commits a serious violation against nature, the druidic laws or balance itself. The High Druids are at all times eight in number, and they are appointed by age, loyal servitude and wisdom as soon as one of the older High Druids dies. Also note that all High Druids receive a nickname that befits them best.

Currently, the Council is comprised of the following members, from old to young:
Kalodan the Venerable – the only elf in the council currently, he has been around in the grove for over seven hundred years, hence his name. He is by far the oldest member of the grove, and therefore respected highly. His power is equally vast, and it is often that Kalodan alone has been able to redirect the acts of a Grand Druid, just because he has been there when most of them were born. Kalodan isn’t as arrogant as the usual old high-powered elf, and instead truly acts in the orders best interests. Mathan regards Kalodan as a good guide, and Kalodan thinks of Mathan as a promising student, but never have they been truly close. (15th level druid)
Tubar the Stalwart – Tubar is the only dwarf in the council. He has been there for some time as well, as currently he is 246 years of age. He is a descendant of a noble dwarven clan, but somewhere along the history of this old lineage a break-up occurred and the forefathers of Tubar became druids. Tubar is, as most dwarves are, a stubborn but honest man, hence his name. Tubar and Mathan have had some conversation over the many years, and they will help each other out whenever they have the chance. (7th level druid)
Tekla the Scholar – Tekla is a secluded old gnome lady, who has been in the grove since birth. 169 years now, she is a respected member of the druid society. Her name she earned through spending her lifetime obtaining, keeping and spreading the great knowledge of the druid grove, and within the walls she lives in (and can almost always be found) she writes many a book on these subjects. Though she is a friendly woman, Mathan and she have never been very close, as Tekla is a very secluded woman, not very well with words. (9th level Druid, 5th level Loremaster)
Lady Lilliath of the Ward – Lilliath is a venerable human lady of 84 years old, who has been known to be in charge of the warding of the forest and the grove itself. She uses her magic to achieve this goal, but also she is in command of all the patrols of rangers and druids through the woodlands. She is stern, strict and serious, but her hearth is of golden stone. Without this characteristic, she would most likely have failed her extremely arduous task a long time ago. Mathan respects her, but never quite learned what the mysterious Lady of the Ward thinks of him. (12th level druid)
Tolgaros the Seer – Tolgaros is one of the wisest druids around, with his 72 human years as experience. He is known to be the seer among the druids and with his gift advices the Grand Druid greatly. Tolgaros was the greatest opponent of the idea that Mathan would become druid again, and has remained opponent ever since. It is debatable what Tolgaros’ motives are to Mathan, and whether the seer’s gift has got something to do with this distrust. Needless to say, the two are not on speaking terms. (8th level Druid, 8th level wizard (diviner))
Karadran the Silent – Karadran is a human male of 63 years old, and prefers to keep on the background. He loves nature above all, and speaks more openly with animals then with fellow humans. He is wise however, and extremely powerful, and when needed, he can make his opinion known nevertheless. He and Mathan are friendly towards one another, but nothing too seriously. (13th level Druid)
Sheran the Strider – Sheran is quite a peculiarity, as he is in fact the only non-druid in the High Druid council. He is a human barbarian, forty-four years old, and has earned his druidship through everlasting friendship with the inner circle of the druids. He might still be ‘young’, but one day he saved the life of High Druid Kalodan, who then pledged for him to become the replacement for the recently departed High Druid Sora. He is, as his name implies, almost always away from the grove, and brings the wrath of the grove to monsters faraway. Mathan only saw him once, and though he looked very brave, Mathan didn’t speak to him and vice versa. (12th level Barbarian)
Horus the Tamer – If ever there is an untamable creature of the wild, like a wolf driven mad or a bear going berserk, there is in the area far around the grove only one man to approach it. Horus has earned his stripes by taming the dire bear Gram, a ferocious creature that had gone rampant through the forest, destroying all in its path. No druid could get a hold of him, no matter how wise and powerful, but today he serves as Horus’ most loyal animal companion. Horus is a human male of 42 years of age. Mathan and Horus have been good friends, but currently they have been out of touch for a while, as Horus often wanders. (7th level Druid, 4th level ranger)