Dubhan Iah

[Nevajas]

Character: Dubhan Iah
Class: Monk/Ranger, order of the Sun Soul

Appearance:  Dubhan is a human male in his middle to late twenties. He has a lean, wiry build of about 5'8" and 165 pounds (or 1.73 meters and 75 kilos). His shoulder-length hair is always carefully tied back with a simple leather cord and his beard is trimmed short. Both are a deep auburn color. Being out in the sun has tanned his skin, squinting against it has caused subtle wrinkling around his gray eyes. His outfits are almost always simple, functional and of various shades of browns, reds and greens.  His hands are always covered, usually by fingerless gloves.

General Behavior:  Physically Dubhan seems spry and energetic, almost borderline restless.  However, it rarely comes through in his interactions.  He's usually unobtrusively quiet in the company of other people, though he rarely seems uneasy or timid.  Most often he simply prefers to observe unless he feels he has something worth saying.  When he speaks his voice is low and a touch rough but always clear, and his accent would place him from somewhere near Waterdeep.

Other random details:  In typical monk fashion, Dubhan usually fights unarmed.  His style is more fury than grace, favoring rapid strikes over decisive blows.  Like most rangers, he has influence over some animals.  Rather than placating aggressive ones, he attempts to cow them with a harsh gaze that has almost primal conviction behind it.

Dubhan's fond of stories and music, and will stay perfectly content listening to a talented performer for hours.

[Nevajas]

A newly bought journal has its spine cracked and its first page marked the day word of Redmist's independence movement reaches Isenhold.

I start this journal now in case this upcoming political moment in Redmist, in the land of Cormyr, becomes an all out war. I won't try to explain what has happened or how it has got this far, as I'm sure actual Loremasters are hard at work doing just that. I will simply say that I have no political ambitions of my own and intend to say out of this push for independence. That is not why I have come here and I need to remind myself of that.

However, I also have a suspicion that this movement is a ruse and someone is orchestrating this frenzy just to obfuscate something more sinister. I'd share my theory but no one will listen, and I pray that I am wrong.

Even if this military campaign is exactly what it seems to be, it cannot come at a worse time or from a worse place in Cormyr. The Zhent are on Isenhold's back stoop and the Thayen enclave is not much further. I think the latter will profit financially from both sides before personally getting their hands bloody, but the former could easily make a push if they aren't kept in check. Same goes for the kobolds and hobgoblins. I don't care if Redmist takes Isenhold or if Cormyr manages to keep them in check. What I'm worried about, and what I have to do my best to prevent, is something larger and darker of heart than a town full of angry people honestly wanting freedom taking a chance to seize power. I'll be using this journal to track my success and failures.

-Dubhan Iah of the Sun Soul.

And as the ink dries on the page Dubhan leans back and makes himself wonder where he will keep this book and not think about the kind of bedlam he's throwing himself into.

[Nevajas]

There is definitely something sinister behind Redmist’s push for freedom. That much has become painfully obvious. A few days ago I agreed to help defend Isenhold from an anticipated siege from the Zhent’s encampment. Instead we were attacked from the inside of the city by two powerful foes. One fought in heavy armor with more enchantments and wards than I could count defending him. Another summoned fell creatures to do his dirty work. Stronger fighters than I could ever be fell to these two and I only survived because I was willing to retreat.

So now it’s publicly known that Redmist is being backed by Thay. Rumors spread of murdered diplomats and underhanded tactics. Why aren’t people with a more political bend looking into this? I’d do it myself but I’m a hunter. I’m out of my place in espionage.

Hopefully by the time someone else reads this the situation will be long resolved.

[Nevajas]

Ahmose Iah, a young Mulhorandi bard, travels to the far northwest to the city of Waterdeep. He comes to spread songs and stories of home and to collect new ones for his return. He meets and marries Maeve Rioghnach, a follower of Selûne. The two have five children: Mosi, Gahiji, Davin, Cearbhhall and Abigail. Sadly, Abigail's birth is a difficult one that Maeve doesn't survive.

Rather early in his adult years, the adventuring spirit rapidly leaves Davin. He decides to become a farmer and sets up in the village of Ezra, a day's ride from Waterdeep. He weds a local, Sarah Connelly, and buys property on the outskirts of the village. A few years later an aged and declining Ahmose builds his own cottage at the far edge of the land.

Davin and Sarah have four children: Sadie, Aislynn, Dubhan and Maeve. Shortly after the new Maeve is born, when Dubhan is barely three years old, Ahmose says his goodbyes and returns to Mulhorandi to share the amassed stories and experiences of his life before it ends.

[Nevajas]

Shortly after the Zhent suddenly leave Isenhold, Dubhan Iah is back in Cormyr. After getting news of the occupation his mind is left burdened with worry. With the Western Reach Accord broken by Lord Bloodstil's allies, Dubhan has little doubt that all of Redmist would pay.

Isenhold stops feeling like a home due to his disquiet, so Dubhan decides to travel throughout the cities of Cormyr proper to clear his head. His plan rapidly backfires in Suzail; the short-lived Zhent offensive has spawned flocks of rumors and speculations that found their way into every conversation he overhears.

He wanders into the local temple of Tymora. Other than the two green-cloaked clerics, it's empty and quiet. There his thoughts begin to unravel, his mind begins to relax. Before departing he counts out 100 lions and leaves them in the tithing plate. He takes a purple flower from his belt pouch and leaves it at the feet of Tymora's statue. And he leaves a whispered prayer that has formed during his reflections.

Luck Goddess, please watch over my friend. Spare her ill fortune. Let her know she is cared for and missed... greatly so. Keep her safe, because I can't hide the same shadows she does. Let me see her again, when the time is right.

A day later he is in Marsember. The salty air reminds him of home and his spirits are noticeably lifted, his mind more at ease. He explores the city and finds the small shrine to Tymora. This time a prayer is quick to come to him. Lady Luck, there's a Luskan lass that could use your help. Please guide her and watch over her, because her friends cannot. After whispering his wishes, he leaves a beautiful moonstone in the center of the shrine.

Though a few minutes later another source of agitation finds him when he passes the hall where a different friend married a knight...

[Nevajas]

An old woman sat near the firelight. It was a cool night in Waterdeep, and the public study's large windows simply invited in the breeze. Rather than closing the shutters the she set another log on the fire, pulled the wool blanket tighter to her hunched shoulders and continued with her prayers, her eyes fixed on nearly-full moon.

She hadn't reacted when she heard someone settle in the nearest chair to hers. Her gnarled fingers continued to hold the holy symbol of Selûne as she muttered quietly. Then a sudden sneeze halted her meditations, and a simple "Selûne bless you" came from the new arrival, and the old woman turned in the chair to face him.

"You're always sneaking around," she said after a few moments of studying the face that was lit by the fire. Her speech was steady, clear and gradual, with more than a touch of a scolding tone. "What are you hiding from now, Dubhan?"

"Simple habit, Priestess Wela," said Dubhan, turning his head to her. "No deliberate deception intended."

"Aye, and that wasn't what I said." The scolding tone grew slightly. "I said you were hiding." She paused for a heartbeat. "Clearly it's not from me, but there's always something." She paused again, much longer this time. The strain in Dubhan's neck caused him to shift his chair before the woman spoke again. "So we have the privacy you place such a high value on. Speak your mind and don't waste it, or my time."

"It's over," he said quickly. What he meant to be a cause for celebration came with the sound of a sinner's confession, so he tried again. "It's dead. I killed it."

The priestess' head bobbed slightly. "So your monster's finally dead. Good," she said plainly. "Now what becomes of your life?"

"I was hoping you could," he stop short, finding he had to suddenly force the words he thought would come so easily to him. "I was hoping you could tell me."

"No." Her single word reply hit with enough conviction to caused Dubhan to shrink back slightly into his chair. "I can't tell you. I asked. So answer."

It took several minutes of silence for Dubhan to find his voice. But by the time he spoke his eyes had drifted to the floor and he didn't bother raising them. "I heard Katharine's engaged."

"She is. She found her way to Neverwinter after she left, just like I told you last time you snuck in here looking for your former song bird." There was sympathy in the elder's voice now. "She's to be married in two nights. I would have gone with everyone else were I not so old." Her wrinkled face twisted as she watched the effects her words had on Dubhan. He had withdrawn even further into his chair and was rubbing the back of his left hand. "You knew this already. Who did you walk away from this time, Dubhan?"

"Friends. Least they were nearly a year ago. I didn't say goodbye when I left Cormyr," he said to the legs of Wela's chair. "I didn't say many things. Only one knew... about my past. I don't think she suspected I'd run off, though." Finally he raised his head and met the eyes of holy woman. "I need to see them again, don't I?"

"Aye, now you talk sense," said the priestess as small smile spread over her withered lips. "Stop wasting your time with me and get on with your life."

"It's a not a waste when I owe you my life." Dubhan sat up with his reply, as if the sudden conviction energized him.

"Well, that's flattering," said Wela as her smile grew. "Now say your last goodbye and be gone with you. Selûne will watch you and so will I soon."