OG
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There is no spoon.
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Okay, I know it's been a while coming, but to quote my dad, I was born two weeks late and haven't caught up yet. As many of you already know, I plan on playing an Eladrin wizard named Dayereth.
Dayereth is thirty years old. Technically an adult amongst the Eladrin, his is still probably younger than most which travel alone in Wyverndale.
Dayereth has never been outside of the Feywild before, and has been in the prime material realm of Wyverndale for a little less than a ten-span.
Unfortunately he is already mistrustful of humans. He has never been very good at relating to others anyway, prefering the company of books and the adventures found in a warm library before being thrust into his new life.
Here's a little background story, just enough to get him up to the campfire. I'm working on a more complete history.
Dayereth trudges through the forest, hungry and unguided.
Since he had to abandon some of his gear in a hasty exodus from a nasty situation, food has been scarce. Comfort has only been provided by his magic and his guile.
Coming to this world may have been a mistake, but Dayereth could not see any other alternative. Besides, the possibility of finding and learning new magic, adapting it’s ways to the ways taught to him by his father and at the court, was intoxicating, possibly influencing his decision beyond pure reason.
Still, hunger was not a welcome companion.
As night falls, voices carry through the forest, quiet from the retiring creatures of the day, and not yet dinned from the susurrus of the creatures of the night.
As Dayereth crests a small hill he sees light from a dozen campfires, around which he can see figures milling, talking, drinking, eating. All the activities which occupy the workers of the world as the day draws to a close.
A caravan of some sort, Dayereth thinks to himself. Perhaps they can be aided by a user of magic, in exchange for meals or gold. Either way, it will provide for my belly whilst I plan my next move.
Dayereth comes closer, and seeing a fire with few full-blooded humans nearby heads that way. As he approaches, he hears a young boy, probably human, talking about trouble with an ogre. Dayereth’s purple eyes flash in the firelight as he hears the boy describe some unusual things the ogre has been stealing.
Ritual material, but gathered by an ogre?
His interest peaked, Dayereth steps fully into the light.
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