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Post by magus on Jan 16, 2010 2:09:26 GMT 1
This collection of lore is the basis of the background from Reawakening. Depending at what point you are using from the timeline, different powers are active as the dominant forces present in the area. Originally this world set uses the traditional Seelie and Unseelie courts, but due to a major coup from within the dark fey, the entire hierarchy is remoulded into a single entity, a more primal, dark, and ambivalent natured Court -- that of the Midnight Court.
Before the Awakening, there were two powers that held sway within the fey realms: Seelie and Unseelie. Though there is much to be said for what had always been an eternal dance between darkness and light, the story begins not there, but elsewhere. The Seelie Court had been forming a tenuous alliance with its more celestial brethren. It was a time of importance, where no mistake could be afforded. Or rather, that was the belief of the Twilight Court. This tale centers on a small but prestigious sect, the Arboreal Glade, and one of its priestesses.
The Glade was sacred ground and to defile it was heresy. One priestess had the dubious luck to commit such an act. Averil was that one, when she grew entangled in a series of trysts with a fiend. Upon her discovery, she was banished on pain of death from all she ever knew.
Adrift in her exile, the fey eventually found herself in the Abyss, having turned to the only thing remaining to her -- the fiend who had caused her banishment in the first place. The dark energies of that realm slowly wrought their taint upon her, emerging as sorcerous talent. Even her powers as a priestess were altered, twisted into a dark shadow of what they once were. No longer was Averil of the light...she was darkened beyond return.
She did return to the lands she once called home though...but this time, she dwelt among the dark fey. When the challenge rose for determining a new Dark Monarch, the fallen priestess made full use of her abilities, taking the title for her own. Thus within her realm, she turned her eye toward a dearer prize: the fall of the Seelie. Averil forged her own pact with an outside power, that of the fiends. As a sign of agreement, she took one as Consort, a Teind paid forth in spilled blood every winter solstice to renew the bargain. One part of the pact had a most unforeseen result: a child.
As Child grew into Woman, she developed an unsettling beauty further marked by a wild temperament. Ever at her side a spear of black tipped in reddened gold, her desire for blood growing. Perhaps because of a well-placed whisper, perhaps solely of her own accord, this blazing star rose and burned away all challengers...even her own kin. As the one before her, she too took up the fiendish pacts, leading the dark kingdom into new heights of shadow. What was once a single rite of yearly sacrifice grew into a cycle every new moon, a ritual Hunt that her chosen ones rode in, her ill-favoured damned to run in.
Where Averil had begun a dream, her daughter not only superseded but reforged it. A dark dream of revenge warped into a world of nightmare. The Sidhe had reclaimed their old legacy of mystery, of magics, and fear. It is a new world which emerges, and only time will tell what will come of it...
Dare you traveller to trod the paths the Fair Folk have walked? Care ye dearly the price to be paid for such a journey? Suren the road may be wild, but the treasures found are beyond dreaming...but can you live with what comes of its twists and turns?
Welcome to the Wild Hunt, Traveller. Fare ye well, and pray that ye thrive...lest you become its quarry...
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Post by magus on Jan 16, 2010 2:24:00 GMT 1
And as an added bonus...a glimpse of just what kind of creatures rule this world...and what one unlucky soul won for his bargain with fate...but as to who the truly unlucky be, only you might fathom...
He raised his eyes toward his captor. Too long he had languished within these walls; by purest chance had he been ambushed, bound, and turned over to her. Teeth bared in defiance, he spared only the briefest glance, muttering darkly. "Why do you bother with these damned games when we both know you will get nothing from me? Better you simply left me to rot in isolation than to bear your presence."
Soft footsteps echoed in the stony chamber, the faint rustle of fabrics and flesh, the shallow intake of breath. "And you are hardly in a position to argue, son of Ishmael. I want what I do not have -- I have not you, thus will we persist until you see the light of reason." Her voice was velvet, purring in his ear. "It is not so hard to bear my rule. Many have willingly sworn their fealty; why should you hesitate to do the same?"
"I want nothing you could ever offer me, witch. You offer only honey sweet poison and false promises."
An angry hiss escaped her, one hand rising swift to strike him across the face. "And you are more the fool to believe you can escape me. I will bend you even as I so did your father." The face grew chillingly cold as a mocking smile appeared. "His dear little human was the key after all..."
"You dare speak of my mother like that, you Sidhe witch?! You dare defile her and her memory?" He growled, trying but failing to break free of his bonds. "Don't you dare talk of her or my father! You are nothing but a gods-damned little viper!"
She chuckled softly, violet eyes gleaming in anticipatory malice. "You will regret saying such things, little bird. I might have been content to simply watch your spiral into anguish over the horrors I lovingly crafted for your eyes, but now I think a different approach will be much better suited. Yes." The last word almost purred, falling like rain from petal soft lips. "You sought to defy me and mine, to bring the shining goodness of the Seelie back into this land when the Unseelie have arisen to their rightful place. How fitting a punishment but to become the very tool that will permanently assure their fading?"
A careless gesture toward the shadows. "Come forward, Scythe. Let our guest have a taste of our 'hospitality' will you?"
An emotionless figure knelt, face concealed by the fall of dark silver hair that poured down his back in abundance. Gripped within one hand was clearly the weapon that had given him his name. "Yes, my lady?"
Eyes glittered with fiendish glee, face barely concealing her mirth. "You can start by removing his wings."
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Post by magus on Jan 22, 2010 20:37:22 GMT 1
So that's four interested parties then ^_^ Well that answered that question. I was waiting to see who would be willing to try their hand at a gamble like this. Reawakening takes place in different phases, essentially; players experience the game at different points in the timeline of events. Actions in one part can affect the others. Faces you meet in one time might be there again or not. Mechanically what I want from all players is a character concept and the progression that would follow. In other words, make the base sheet and then advance it to the specified levels. One former player of mine had a shardar-kai (shadow fey) sorcerer; she did the progression for 6th, 10th, and 15th levels (three separate entries). Over the course of the game when we'd shift back and forth in the timestream, the appropriate information was available and used. This particular game is going to be run cinematically in the DM posts, and will feature 'cutscenes' of things going on. I will be working with the mechanics oddly this time round. It is somewhat angled more toward the "role" as opposed to the "roll" aspect of things. The adventure(s) may seem unrelated at points, forming a series of "vignettes" if you will. My goal with this game is to more or less let the group have fun with their characters, experience some laughs, and get an idea of what fey can really do. And yes, I do intend to even consider brushing against epic levels if we get there. There will be instances of solo focus for the characters and group focus both. Some encounters will involve NPCs you may not be intended to actually skirmish with, especially depending on the "when" of the timeline. Opposing NPCs are built as strong as you build your characters. My draft of house rules from the multi-DM game will be coming into play for the course of this experiment (see the appropriate post). Character sheets need a base entry for 6th level, with secondary entries showing updated progression for 10th and 15th level. ECL-types are allowed. 32 point builds. No one item may comprise more than 25% of character wealth. Open season on what you use for source material provided I have access to the book, magazine article, or online resource. One caveat -- no campaign specific based material -- so no Darksun, Ravenloft, Eberron, Forgotten Realms focused please. I have my reasons for the time being. Players may find the archives at www.crystalkeep.org for d20 materials helpful. Please post the sheet via PM to me for the time being. Reawakening is both game and story to me simply because of the depth on some of the individuals you'll run across. I hope folks enjoy their time in the game and relish seeing just what everyone's going to surprise me with. I look forward to seeing what you come up with! Magus |
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Post by Ilya on Jan 24, 2010 15:35:54 GMT 1
Alrighty. I have a couple of questions. I'd like to play a Thrallherd (from the Expanded Psionics Handbook), so a few rules need to be set down. I'd like him to be something like Professor X, which means he'd be moving slowly without help. To illustrate that, I would like to use the Slow flaw from Unearthed Arcana. So, question 1: can I take flaws? To make sure I don't have to run to keep up with everyone else, I'd like to have one, two, or more of my followers carry me. I know it doesn't look like a very good action at first, but being asked to be moved around when you've got difficulty moving is not very evil, either. For this, I would like to either get a wheelchair, a litter, or maybe some kind of sentient mount. The last one will be a problem, because, at best, my followers will be level 1, and there aren't many sentient mounts of that level. And I am not aware of any rules concerning riding, say, on a human's back. Which leaves me with the other two. However, there are neither wheelchairs nor litters in any of the books I know of. So, question two: Can I get a carriage from the Arms & Equipment Guide and adapt it into a wheelchair or litter? And then there's question three, closely connected to the mount issue: what kind of followers can I get? After all, I'd rather not have a mother of three abandoning her home and following me into danger. (True story. One DM did that.) And only commoners, while potentially useful as carriers, would not be good for anything else. Or I could forget the entire thing and just have them pick me up and drag me like an inanimate object if need be. Yeah, I'll go with that for now. |
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Post by Ilya on Feb 2, 2010 1:40:06 GMT 1
Here's a description of what my character should be like. It's a Whisper Gnome (Races of Stone) Thrallherd (See earlier). It's a Lawful Good Thrallherd, which was quite the challenge to make, I must say.
Also, feel free to use any of the obvious plot hooks I snuck in there, or use anything I wrote as a plot hook I did not anticipate.
SEMI-FINAL VERSION.
CHAPTER 1. THE WHY.
A good man can be lead by courage, by nobleness, by a pure heart. His actions can be commanded by righteousness or by hatred for all things evil. His motives can be the dread of what an evil world would be like, or compassion for those suffering under such evil.
Or it could be fear. Crippling, all-absorbing fear for justice, meted out against those who truly deserve to be punished. It is that fear that often keeps Cerey Pi'uso's eyes open and mind working at night. Without ever having heard it, he feared one sound above all: the hammer of a judge. Not on his own behalf, but of those who would be sentenced to a death they deserved or condemned to a short life in a dank cell they had earned. Why? Let's take a look back in the search of that answer.
The fighting outside of the gnomes’ underground homes was common, whether it was against the small but devious goblins or the brutish giants in Cerey’s youth. It affected him less than the unrest within the community. Though much rarer, it happened: every society has its criminals. These criminals needed to be disposed of, or contained somewhere. It just happened so that Cerey’s family shared a hill with the facility where his society’s criminals were contained, and it so happened that he had to take a mere two or three steps out of his front door to see the square where they were disposed of. If he listened intently, he could sometimes hear the angry shouts of the prisoners when two of them had an argument through the hill’s rock.
One could think that this very tangible reminder of what happened to those who chose to ignore the law would serve to protect the peace and instil order into the surrounding warrens. Not so: a mix of equal parts normal and whisper gnomes, this neighbourhood produced more than its fair share of residents for the complex.
The area that always stood in the proverbial shadow of that one hole in the ground, with its many reinforced doors, had always been an unrestful one, for whatever reason. Being one of the weaker slowest, even when his legs were okay, children growing up during his youth, the boy took his share of beatings, and shrugged them off as a necessary fact of life, like his weaker –and some of his stronger– peers did, too. At that time, he showed two talents: more than the average Whisper Gnome child, he could talk an opponent into submission. Sometimes, that saved him from a beating, while often, a child beaten in wit decided it should settle the matter with muscles. And there it shone in a second area: while he was hardly adept at throwing a punch, the boy could take them. These years, while tough, did no, or little harm to the boy’s mind and body: that would be something for later days.
These later days came soon. He was not a child any more, although not a full-grown adult, either, at the age of 25. The whisper gnome had enjoyed the outdoors greatly, not only for its beauty but also for its solitude. His hours outside had taught him the pleasure of riding a steed, and racing through the woodlands and plains unhindered. And he became quite the rider. For a while, at least…
It was an unfortunate accident, nothing more. It’s surprising, really, considering the many dangers his hours outside exposed him to, that it took a silly accident like a lightning bolt to give him a serious injury. It had travelled from a practicing mage’s hand, trough two windows, one of which was almost entirely closed, and had inexplicably found its way through a layer of almost three inches solid rock to blast a piece of rock out of the opposite wall. Not a large chunk, but the explosion made a heavy cupboard to collapse. In its path was a young, 25-year-old Ceyen. But this was only the first part of the surprising coincidence. The second was that this all happened in perfect, magical silence: the whisper gnome was training his natural skills. He was left there for the duration of the spell: not too long, but the damage had been done, and when the cleric took him into their care, the damage to his legs had been done: he spent a few weeks in bed, and since then limped badly. But he was resilient, more resilient than the average gnome, and pulled through this.
But this was only how the limping gnome became what he was, not who he was. The fear that commanded his way was planted firmly into his heart never to be removed when, walking out of the door, he looked at that square where many a gnome had cast his last glance at the sky… and found that he recognized the one whose life was about to be ended. For the first time, a death was no longer impersonal and anonymous. Sure, Slesthin had never been his real friend, and an important -though not the main- source of suffering during his earlier youth, but when he saw Slesthin, now a murderer, being executed, something changed.
It was inconspicuous at first: Cerey’s parents merely noted that he used his sphere of Silence to fall asleep at night. Training of magical abilities for someone who didn’t expect he could face the goblins and giants regularly assaulting their hamlet by physical might. But this was not the cause. Pressing his ears against the stone, as he couldn’t help but do, the Whisper Gnome still heard the voices of the angry inmates every now and then, and couldn’t help but wonder. Whose friend is this? Whose son? Whose husband? The thought about them not seeing these people again, or only at the point of dying, filled him with dread. And he wanted this to stop.
What or whom to turn to? The gods wanted this: many of those capturing these criminals and sending them to a fair trial, which could send them to their deaths, were paladins. And never had he heard a cleric protest. In fact, some of them held important roles in those trials. Physical ability was out of the question, with his limp. And magic… well, magic was the cause physical ability was no longer an option. Luckily, the gnome harboured a third quality, next to his penchant for talking and his ability to take a beating. It took him quite a few years to figure out that he had it, but the evidence became unmistakable: he could influence the world around him with a sheer thought. Meditation increased this ability. Study did, too. And when they were ready, he started using them. He could, sometimes, force a criminal to behave well. Very well, even so that his case was re-examined with more leniency. But Cerey soon discovered a problem: if the prisoner was left to roam free, he could no longer exert his will. If he could no longer exert his will, many of them returned to their wicked ways, and then were incarcerated again, only to either repeat the loop or continue the path they would have been on since the first time.
The dread, however, did not diminish. Cerey did not need the sound of voices, muffled through layers of rock, to feel it. It was with him in all of his dreams, and it did not relent when he was awake. He made a decision. Training to meditate, to focus his will, he decided he would have to control these men’s lives entirely for as long as it took for them to repent from their actions.
His reason is compassion with those who deserve no more of it.
His goal is to protect. To protect those who could be threatened and those who could threaten alike.
His actions are always good deed performed with tools and means no longer considered suited for that.
His results are, as often as it is possible, good deeds done.
And the origin of this all is horror. Endless horror for what should happen, should justice take its due course.
CHAPTER 2. THE HOW.
When seeing the whisper gnome exhibit abilities beyond those of an average mind, one might wonder, how they came to be. When setting eyes on his rather bizarre gathering, one might inquire why they follow him, what he does, and how this all came to be.
Motivation was not a problem for the ever-listening whisper gnome, and he trained his abilities as well as the quiet life in a village permitted him without being too conspicuous about it. After all, if they would see what he could do, they might wonder about his ‘why’, and that is a question best left unanswered for many. These were not fertile grounds for his abilities to grow, however. This was one of the reasons he gave himself to leave his village. A second one, slightly closer to the truth, was that he wanted to see if anyone else could be saved, anyone who had it worse for less reasons. But that was not the real reason why he abandoned his home. The real reason, the one he will likely never admit, and probably won’t let himself realise, is still that same fear: he could not stand to hear those people beyond the wall, be reminded of their presence by the ever-looming execution square continually, and he fled, taking with him all those he could control well enough to prevent them from doing damage to the surrounding world.
As they travelled, he occasionally released his thralls… well, his charges, as he would prefer to call them. Giving them brief chances to be themselves, he rewarded good actions, performed willingly, and simply recaptured those who relapsed in their vile ways. Such repeated releases and captures of the same being healed a few of their evil ways. A few others have successfully betrayed their master, convinced him of better intentions despite his abilities, only to get away from the creepy gnome with the mind-numbing and will-snuffing powers and return to their crimes somewhere else.
His adventures, in which aiding others was supposed to serve as a lesson for those following him of their own captured and chained will, have not brought him wealth. They have brought him very valuable lessons about the where, and, more importantly, the how of using his powers. Additionally, his travels across the world have brought him tools, with which he could equip his followers, and improve his own abilities, even if only slightly. By teaching others how to do good, in spite of their pre-existing desires, he has learned how to use his powers. By being the example of what good is, and occasionally giving others the chance to show how good students they are, he has even succeeded in teaching some.
But then, there is another ‘how’, which must be answered, besides such trivialities as how to change someone with a heart already condemned to the Hells and the Abyss into a more than decent citizen, or how to use a mind to perform supernatural feats. For Cerey, a more important ‘how’ is how to do good without doing things he cannot allow to be done, about how to stop evil without doing those very thing that terrified him and sent him searching for purpose.
When possible, he will give anyone the chance to change, as long as there is some hope. Unsurprisingly, killing an evil man is something simply painful to think about for the gnome who can’t stand the thought of having an evil man incarcerated for a long period. And yet, he realizes, and in his travelling way of life, finds himself in positions where he is faced with a choice to either kill a villain that he cannot control or allow them to kill more people. In those cases, death to the offender is the right choice. It’s the only right choice.
And yet, Cerey cannot bring himself to kill anything capable of thought, evil or otherwise, certainly not premeditatedly. Even asking one of his followers to finish off an enemy that is beyond salvation and whose continued existence would cause the deaths of many is difficult for him. And this guilt robs him of even more sleep than the dread he lives with every day.
CHAPTER 3. THE WHO.
While some heroes are known for their solitary heroics and many are known for their adventures in groups of likeminded noble souls, Cerey is of a third kind. His actions would have meant naught if they hadn’t been performed with his charges. Who are, indeed, these charges whom he takes with him, trying to force them back onto the path of good?
Easily the most remarkable of the group is Gralkhak. Indeed, in his presence, his master can easily be missed. The blood of many rests on his claws, and, given the freedom to act, he would not consider amending his ways. But it is not his fault, certainly not if you ask the one whose mind has a firm grip on Gralkhak’s. For who he is was caused only by what he is: the result of an unwilling union between a human female and an ogre male. But perhaps, even that much shouldn’t be mentioned in civilised company… The half-ogre, raised by his father’s family due to the unsurprising death of his mother during the birth -and let’s be honest, even if she had survived that, her days would have been numbered- creature, was no different from any other ogre in spirit. Granted, he was gifted with a greater intelligence, but this intelligence was used only when his muscles proved inadequate for the task of killing someone, or at least beating them into submission. This mix of nature and nurture had created a savage killer, prone to horrible fits of rage in which it destroyed anything and anyone it could reach… an unfortunate personality, determined by birth. Cerey refused to believe that it could be blamed of its race and heritage, and since its actions were a direct consequence of that, neither could it be blamed for those.
Despite being an excellent example of Cerey’s kindness, as well as his naïveté and odd opinion of his charges, some parts of how the two met should be left unsaid, while most can be divulged. The psionic shepherd of the vile encountered the half-ogre in a ruined farmhouse, with its deadly weapon lying beside him. The fact he had to reach for his weapon, as well as the necessity to drop what he was eating, probably saved Cerey’s life, as did Gralkhak’s low willpower. The fact his previous charge had been clever enough to deceive the gnome certainly said his, for if he had still been in Cerey’s presence at the time, he had most likely found himself in the path of the half-ogre’s charge.
For a few moments, the cripple and the towering giant, who was much less towering at the time, struggled. Luckily for the former, a battle of minds, for he had no chance to be victorious in the latter, not against this creature. Cerey came out victorious, with a new charge, a charge that he would have much work with, since the desire to cause havoc and destruction was deeply imbedded in his very being. But his abilities to cause destruction on a vast scale around him could eventually be changed, under the watchful eye of the gnome and his unwavering mental pressure, to be slightly more merciful, but still very lethal if need be. His prolonged capture has cost him: while his memory is still as clear as it was, and his knowledge has even expanded quite impressively, the Half-Ogre’s quickness of wit and awareness of his surroundings has grown even weaker over time. Though, Cerey’s explanation for this is different: if his charge had been shown more willingness to learn the ways of the good, his releases would be far more frequent, and his mind would have been as supple as ever. It is a very regrettable payment for his reluctance to improve.
Together towering giant, the group includes a few smaller individuals. Two of them are roughly as tall as Cerey himself: two kobold brothers. The great hopes the Thrallherd invests into them are mostly unfounded, and yet, he has his reasons. The magically gifted one of the two, Charry was formerly known as Charrylernist-elen ab'zeleni the Grand, and at one point, he deserved the name entirely, being a powerful magic-slinger. But he wanted more. One of his many ambitions was to become a sort of kobold prophet. Another one would have to come first, however: to amass the power necessary to lead the little things. And of course, there was that unpleasant sun that made life for his race difficult… bit that was a goal which was much farther away yet. First, he needed power, and he chose to do this by making bonds. With eldritch beings, devils, aberrations, demons… those last ones were the worst of his choices, as time would tell, though other beings still have unsettled scores with him. And most of them would be unpleasant when settled.His hybris lead to his fall, as a demon, unsurprisingly, mislead and betrayed him, striking him so hard he lost almost all of his powers and a good deal of his memory. A blank slate, ready to reimprinted by Cerey’s powerful mind with the ideals of nobleness. Cerey does not choose to not notice he’s been tainted by prolonged interaction with all manner of unholy things. He simply cannot be aware of it.
The other brother comes in near the end of Charry’s tale. He had not been gifted with magical talent… or great intelligence… or, basically, anything, except a certain aptitude at going for people’s vital organs. So, his brother thought he would make a useful work force and could serve as cannon fodder when this would prove necessary. Sersenth, let’s say, disagreed. He believed he was entitled to at least the power Charry had. He believed he should not be constantly bullied and commanded by him… and he wanted revenge. When Charry’s greatest moment of weakness came, as he lay there, quietly drooling and hanging on to life, Sersenth had already drawn a dagger with which he could sever that connection. He wanted to take revenge once and for all, and he had done that without hesitation.
But Cerey interrupted him, bursting in with his traditional “No!” and naïve misinterpretation of the situation. He had known of Charry’s practices, and he had believed that Sersenth was bringing a stop to this evil, unable to watch it. Never fully recovering from that first impression, Cerey always had a hunch there was some deep good hidden within that sneaky Kobold. A hunch that, again, was completely unfounded.
Every villain has some tragedy in his life. You do not turn to irredeemable evil without having lost something or someone. Dorraf didn’t lose anyone, though. She is constantly losing herself and trying to prevent that from happening. A gifted artist, an aspiring Master of the Stone, she had the potential to lead her clan to glory. But even Cerey has little, on bad days no, hope for her. Why exactly she, if given the chance, will at some moment decide to break any person’s skull is unclear. This is not a magical illness, which is why the clerics could be convinced she could be cured, was even cured, when Cerey intervened into her life. It is however, to Cerey’s knowledge, not something he can remove, and he fears quietly that she will be bound to him for the rest of her life, and worries about what would happen should she be released. She’s a relatively nice person when not killing anyone, after all. And she has a lovely, powerful singing voice, a powerful contralto used to inspiring workers with the dwarves’ mining songs. But still…
One person travels with Cerey for different reasons. Nild is a genuinely good woman, even though she can be a bit easy to annoy and fiery in her reaction. Her crimes are different, and the tragedy of her bond to Cerey is that he dares not take away what would condemn her: her beliefs. She is a scholar first and foremost, a gatherer of lore and knowledge wherever she can find it. She also knows a few magical spells, and this is where she crossed the line. To be able to casts the spells of clerics without being one, to wield the power of the gods without revering them and being granted it… unacceptable. It is stealing the Gods’ powers! That is, at least, what a few devote, zealous followers of some deity, which is unimportant, believed, and they had murdered her if she had not forsworn her ways and beliefs. Not voluntarily: she still holds them, but only quietly. But Cerey could not let the scholar perish for something that was not even fundamentally wrong. She sought a new way to help people, a new source of potentially good power. Cerey would be a hypocrite to allow her to suffer for that.
Lackynis is a constant disappointment to Cerey, even though he usually does exactly what’s instructed. It is his way: the young man is a gifted liar, a deceiver who once knew few equals. That is, as long as he was permitted to perform this art. Cerey’s hope and goal about Lackynis is that he could learn to use his abilities of deception somewhere else. As an actor, perhaps, or as, well, anything else. But Lackynis doesn’t, he finds new ways to twist and turn words, to do what he is told without doing what he is asked to do. To say what is true and do what is right and still manage to lie and deceive. That is his way, a path that Cerey is struggling to take him off.
CHAPTER 4. THE WHERE.
This interesting band of travellers, lead by one small and generally unassuming cripple, needs a destination, lest they would cease to fit that description. And Cerey hunts for that destination. When he has place for a new apprentice, he seeks one. When not, he seeks a place to teach in peace and to help move towards peace and prosperity. It is like that that he discovered his cloak, one of Charry’s few magical possessions that survived the demon’s mighty assault. It is a little large for him, as it once was for the kobold, drooping down over his face often. He walks over the paths, listening to rumours of where his help may be needed, and worrying about his charges, and those whom he could not turn into charges. He carries with him the weight of fear and the weight of guilt. But there’s no need to show anyone that. Better than anyone, Cerey, ironically, appreciates the privacy of a mind and heart unknown to others, even if he has a harder time keeping his intentions and thought secret than one of his companions.
His kind heart is more than just an aspect of his personality: it has joined him in the flesh, so to speak. A kind advisor on what choice is the right and will avoid the most suffering, a small stone creature also follows him along these paths. This advice, of course, it priceless.
For wherever he goes, the gnome tries to help… and when someone doesn’t want his help, that’s when he makes them help others.
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