Caleduil Wengeve'lyan

[Rashai]

//Should you meet Caleduil, here is my fictional description of him to augment his in-game appearance.

Name: Caleduil Wengeve’lyan
Age: 120
Ethnicity: Moon Elf
Build: Tall, muscular (for an elf), and graceful
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Green

He moves with a self-assured bearing and the typical grace of a warrior of the people. A bow pokes up over his right shoulder, and a tower shield is slung on his back. A large sword is sheathed at his left side. His strength is evident in the easy manner he carries his awkward load.

[Rashai]

"Three interconnecting circles in a triangle that points down..."

The Triangle

I prayed to Angharradh as I fell. My death had come all too soon. If I had done as my mother wished, I’d be studying the arcane in some safe tower or school. If I’d taken the path my father wished, I’d be a priest of wise Angharradh now. No, I’d chosen the path of a warrior, and….

My thoughts were shaken from me as I crashed into the cold, hard water. I was sinking and couldn’t breathe. I struggled to force my head above water as I was washed rapidly downstream. Close by I heard Elu shout, “Remove your armor, or you’ll drown!” I obeyed my older cousin. I discarded my sword, and unbuckled the breastplate and greaves. I kicked off my boots. I clung to my bow. I swallowed water as I struggled to stay afloat until most of my gear was lost to the swirling currents.

Elu shouted something I couldn’t understand. Coughing and spluttering, I looked in the direction of his shout. He was pointing wildly at the rapids ahead. When I tried to shout, I went under again. He swam towards me. Together we somehow struggled to shore. Grasping sharp rocks to steady us, we collapsed exhausted on the beach. Angharradh had saved us from the death to which Sir Hugh had led our party. I grieved for my lost comrades even as I thanked my goddess for her kind rescue.

Unwilling to return to the High Forest empty-handed, we traveled seeking adventure. We worked for supplies and equipment helping villagers with goblins or the occasional pack of wolves. We didn’t stay in one place long as either Elu’s manners, or lack thereof, or our mutual wanderlust got the better of us. I must admit leaving of our own freewill was often easier than being chased by some angry father or brothers from town. Still, it had been my cousin’s idea to leap from the bridge that saved our lives, and he is family after all. I hope my association with him doesn’t hinder my efforts to meet and court a beautiful princess of the people, though.

We often heard many rumors of troubles in Cormyr and the opportunity for adventure there, so we followed the roads that way. Our travels brought us to Isinhold just inside the border late at night, so we didn’t meet anyone till the next day. In the Regal Griffon Inn, we learned the area was plagued with all manner of fell creatures. My heart was saddened to learn that cruel folk including, to my horror, some of the people also haunted the area around the town. Often my kin fought their kind near our home. Clearly, Angharradh has guided us to a place where many adventures await us. Now, if only I could earn enough gold coins, lions I believe they are called in this land, to buy a proper sword.

//The Triangle is his background before coming to Cormyr. I'll add more about that later. As I add more to this journal/biography, the three circles will be his phases of life in Cormyr.

[Rashai]

The Triangle

“If I find the fool she has bedded this time, I’ll kill him myself!” the angry caravan leader shouted over the happy sounds of the party. Everyone fell silent and turned to see the wealthy merchant, red-faced with anger and embarrassment, glaring at his weasel-faced wagon driver. Realizing he’d drawn everyone’s attention, the merchant shouted, “Men, spread out through the village and find my daughter!” He stormed out of the headman’s home with his wickedly grinning wagon driver hot on his heels.

I stood up from where I’d been speaking to one of the fine, young ladies of this small village and made my apologies. As I followed the other toughs out of the house, I addressed my closest companions. “Mae...Greggor, I’ll get my bow and see if Elultirin is up to helping us.”

“I hope he is feeling well enough to join us, or he’ll likely be in trouble with the boss,” Greggor responded. I smiled hopefully and headed through the night towards the caravan’s temporary home at the edge of town.

As we neared our final leg of the journey to the border of Cormyr, Elu and I had hired on as caravan guards for Pascal, a rich merchant leading a trade caravan to that troubled land. Over the past ten days, Elultirin had flirted shamelessly with the seamstress, Mae – the only female caravan guard, Pascal’s daughter, and even one of the younger merchant’s wives before he met her hulking brute of a husband.

At the wagon Elu and I shared with some of the other guards, I found his traveling gear, bow, and armor safely stowed and his bedroll where he had been lying sick when we’d gone to the party. Yesterday, his archery skill, more than any of the rest of our talents, helped rid this village of the band of goblins that had plagued it for weeks. They exercised poor judgment attacking a heavily guarded trade caravan. Perhaps he had already joined the search for the boss’ daughter.

I quickly packed my gear and then his. After I donned my armor, I readied my bow. With a full quiver on my back and a short sword at my side, I returned to the village. In the distance, I could see the boss leading the search at the far end of the village near a large barn. Pascal was gesturing wildly and probably shouting. Finally, they began fanning out slowly around the barn. They were fools. If anyone had been in the barn, they’d have slipped out the back while Pascal was grandstanding.

On a hunch, I chose the most direct path between the back of the barn and the caravan’s wagons. I slipped from shadow to shadow moving as quietly as possible. About halfway to the barn, I’d reached the back of the village headman’s home. I could hear the party had resumed inside, which was strange if one of their men were in danger of being slain by Pascal. Dread filled my insides. As it was turning to shame, I heard footsteps coming towards me from around the corner. As the figure rounded the corner, I raised my bow to fire only to be face to face with Elultirin.

“Were you coming to my rescue, Cale?” Elultirin whispered with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, so?” I replied gruffly.

“Well, if Pascal and his thugs don’t catch us, I’ll finally acknowledge that Angharradh has granted you some special favor. We should hurry to the caravan, grab our gear, and be on our way.” He turned and moved quickly back towards the wagons. As I followed him, I couldn’t suppress the sigh that escaped me. “Shhh…cousin,” Elu said.

The caravan leader’s daughter had been naïve, and she had also spurned his advances during our trip here. I had so hoped she had run off with one of the villagers. Shouts of triumph echoed towards us from the barn. Elu began running, and I sprinted to keep up with him. When we reached our wagon, he tossed my pack to me and slung his over his shoulder. “Good job, Cale. I’m impressed. I was afraid I’d have to pack. You’re starting to learn,” he teased. Out of breath, all I could do was sneer at him. We fled into the woods not daring to burden ourselves with Pascal’s strongbox or the oxen and wagon it would take to haul it.

As we fled throughout the night, we both kept silent. Finally, we found a safe place to rest as dawn began to warm the morning sky. As the fear for my life waned, my anger waxed strong. I opened my mouth to chastise my wayward older cousin; however, he motioned for me to be silent and spoke first. “I’m sorry for causing any trouble for you back there. How did it go with what’s-her-name before the commotion started? Did they have to summon you from her bedchamber?” His smirk was unbearable, but I was speechless. I opened and closed my mouth several times as I tried to find words. His grin deepened in response to my discomfort. “I see. Well, I hope they didn’t interrupt you at an inopportune time.” He winked, and I took a swing at him, which he easily dodged. Off balance, I tumbled to the ground.

Regaining my composure, I sat and asked, “What happened with Pascal’s daughter? She didn’t like you.” I couldn’t keep the edge from my voice. Elu laughed again, long and hard this time. I tried to remain calm.

“You needn’t worry about her, my near-priest-of-a-cousin. She sought me out in our wagon where I was recovering from my unfortunate encounter with Mae’s cooking. She said she needed my help with something for her father. Pascal said he wanted to buy a load of feed from the village for our animals, hadn’t he?”

“Yeah,” I answered not really believing his story.

“We went to the barn, and before I led the way inside, she grabbed my hand and started professing her love for me. Pascal’s weasel-faced wagon driver was late going to the party. He spotted us, and I saw his face go red. He hurried into the headman’s house. I tried to disengage myself from her embrace, but she was quite persistent. Soon, we heard Pascal’s angry shouts, and we hurried into the barn.”

I rolled my eyes. “You hurried into the barn? To get the grain?” I asked with sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Not every maid is a fountain of kindness and virtue, Cale. You’d do well to remember that. In fact, she laughed at her father bellowing outside the barn. I’ll wager that wasn’t the first time she’s been in that situation.”

I realized my mouth was open again, and I slowly closed it. “But…couldn’t you have controlled yourself long enough for Pascal to pay us first?”

“No problem. I still have plenty of gold for us to make it to Cormyr in style. In fact…” With a flourish, Elu reached down to his belt and a look of confusion spread across his face. “She didn’t,” he muttered in disbelief. A warm feeling of satisfaction spread through my body. Elu had lost at his own flirtatious game.

“I’ll wager that is the first time you’ve been in this situation,” I said followed by my best impression of his insufferable smirk. I’d worry about our finances later.

[Rashai]

The First Circle

//This account of the Seige of Isinhold is about 10 percent fiction (i.e. didn't happen in game). I added the fictional parts to tie it all together nicely. If you notice a factual error due to my faulty memory, PM me.

//Names have been withheld to protect the innocent. Caleduil's perception of your character may not be exactly what you intended. If you recognize your character and want me to add his/her name, PM me. ;D

The stench of rotting flesh was thick in the air as Caleduil stepped out of the Regal Griffon Inn. As he took a few more hesitant steps, he noticed the source of the smell. A pile of hacked corpses rotted in the garden next to the Inn. Puzzled and concerned, Caleduil looked around. Isinhold was deserted except for the town guard and two of the people. Bentin limped around up the street on his patrol. One of the people healed him while the other strode purposefully toward Caleduil.

“Take shelter or arm yourself, cousin,” she said. “Isinhold is under siege by the minions of Jeric. Undead, wolves, and other foul creatures have been attacking the town all day.”

Caleduil was stunned. He’d only been in Isinhold a short time, but he had grown fond of the place. It seemed as if he’d helped about all of the locals, though he didn’t know many of the adventurers in these parts.

“I will help you defend this town,” he heard himself answer. Coming to his senses he added, “After I don my plate armor and pray to Angharradh for protection and guidance.” Perhaps Angharradh would guide him to leave the area in search of his missing cousin, Elu, instead of battling hordes of undead.

“Do not be long. We could use your help,” she replied and handed him a holy symbol of the triune goddess.

The Protector’s cleric had joined them. “When you do return, seek me if you wish to receive the blessing of Corellon Larethian to guard you as you battle,” he said.

“Thank you to both of you. I will return as soon as I can.” They hurried back to preparing the defenses while Caleduil left for the barracks to seek help putting on his armor. He found someone there to help him with his green and silver plate armor. Fully armored, he knelt and prayed to Angharradh for a few moments before rushing back towards the Inn readying his bow on the way.

A small group of adventurers had gathered to defend Isinhold. Caleduil recognized none of them but the Protector’s cleric and the archer who seemed to share his devotion to the triune goddess. He quietly listened to them plan and converse waiting for orders. One of the adventurers there was one Caleduil had been told was a vile murderer. Caleduil watched him closely observing his generosity as he shared with everyone strengthening the group. Perhaps that had only been a rumor. The adventurers waited and watched, occasionally fending off Jeric’s skirmishers.

A hue and cry went up from the east gate, and the defenders rushed that way. “Stay with me,” the archer said as they ran. A large force of undead led by several heavily armored foot soldiers of Jeric’s army had broken through the barracades. The fighting at the gates was intense, and the shape-shifted rumored-to-be-murder rushed into the thick of the battle anchoring the defender’s line. Caleduil followed the archer to the top of the ridge, and they rained arrows down on the foul creatures.

In a matter of moments, the undead had broken through the middle of the defensive line. With the adventurer’s right flank pinned up against the ridge, the undead began to move further into the town. The townsfolk would soon be in danger. Steeling himself, Caleduil ran down the hill to block their path. He only had time to fire one shot before one of the steel covered monsters was on top of him. Dropping his bow, he tried to draw his sword and ready his shield. His vision blurred with pain as he felt its crushing blow.

Caleduil awoke to the sounds of healers chanting and people calling out to one another. The battle was over. Dazed, he looked around and slowly stood up. The defenders had won. He had died.

The Protector’s cleric asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he responded hesitantly. “They are stronger than anything I’ve ever faced.”

Sound roared in his ears. Numbly, he picked up his sword, sheathed it, picked up his shield, put it on his back, and picked up his bow. As he began to shake, he hurried towards the Inn. As he went, he missed someone say, “Crazy elf. They felled him in one blow, but his foolish courage stalled their advance into the town just enough for us to keep them from the townsfolk.” Most of the adventurers were heading back to the center of town, so his flight was likely overlooked by his companions. Lost in his fear, Caleduil hid in a corner of the common room amongst those taking shelter there…..

…..When he came to himself, Caleduil felt tired and weak. The smell of smoke and unwashed bodies filled the air. Listening to the cries of the wounded, he tried to remember where he was. He looked down at his hands. He clutched his bow in one and a holy symbol of Angharradh in the other. Bile rose in his throat…the undead had attacked the town. He looked around the Regal Griffon Inn Common Room. It seemed they still had the town under siege.

What had stirred him from his trance? A vague almost-memory drifted at the edge of his mind. Had a woman said, “Caleduil, it is time…”? He looked around for a woman, but one wasn’t nearby. Two men were speaking secretively outside the open door. Caleduil listened.

“It doesn’t matter where we hide. If the adventurers and the guard cannot repel the attacks, Isinhold will be destroyed. They barely stopped the whole town from burning to ashes. I doubt there are enough of them to succeed,” one man said.

The second replied, “I believe you now. I was just outside, and the adventurers look tired. After three days, they still argue over how to defend the town despite the guidance of the former First Sword.”

Had it been three days? Shame overwhelmed Caleduil. His cowardice had dishonored himself and his goddess. If he were going to die, he’d rather do it on his feet. Stuffing the holy symbol in his pocket, Caleduil made his way up the stairs and out into the sunlight. As soon as he stepped out of the Regal Griffon, he heard the discord. Several men were arguing over how to best defend the town. The group of defenders had grown. At least twice as many adventurers were scattered around the middle of the town.

As mist swirled through the town, Caleduil listened quietly to the debate. He waited for someone to tell him what to do. Finally, the pretty archer Caleduil met at the beginning of the siege shouted for all the archers to join her. Mindful of his failure as a swordsman, he readied his bow and moved to follow her to the top of the hill near the druid’s temple. A woman there who was shown much deference by most of the other adventurers gave orders to the pretty archer. She was to organize the other archers to provide cover fire for defenders near the hill.

The remainder of the day included alternating periods of waiting and brief, intense fighting as Jeric’s army probed Isinhold’s defenses. Caleduil marveled at the Marut and many other summoned creatures who were aiding the defenders. The only ones he had seen before were the treants, though the ones in Isinhold were not the same as those from home. Caleduil also made the acquaintance of many of the adventurers defending the city who all spoke with dread of the coming night.

When darkness did come, the woman, a paladin Caleduil had learned, in charge of the defenses split the adventurers into small groups guarding each entrance to Isinhold. Caleduil’s group was assigned the entrance to the Bramblewood. Most of the night was spent waiting and talking. The leader of the group was handy with traps and made several attempts to build camaraderie that were interrupted by the merchant and the wizard the paladin sent to check on them. The burly human didn’t say much, and Caleduil didn’t hit it off with the aloof bloodmage or the angry bare-handed fighter even though they were of the people.

When the wolves attacked, the group gave a good account of themselves even though the guards charged into the traps triggering nearly all of them. An unnatural darkness overwhelmed the little band as Caleduil rushed to heal the leader of the group. When it lifted, the bare-handed fighter lay dead. Fortunately, the leader was able to raise her with a scroll. Most of the rest of the night was spent arguing over Jeric’s intentions and the hard headedness of the town guard. Shortly before dawn, word came that Jeric’s army had withdrawn, though no one really knew why.

Before Caleduil left for a drink, he offered congratulations and thanks to the leader of his group. “You did a good job.”

“What? I didn’t do anything,” the leader protested as he deactivated and picked up another trap. He had repeatedly told the others to stand back when the attack came, so he could bear the brunt of the initial assault.

“Humility is rare. You did do a good job of leading us. Farewell!” Caleduil was cut to the core by this brave man’s humility.

Still stinging with shame, Caleduil wandered Isinhold for several days occasionally taking breaks to nurse a bottle of wine at the Regal Griffon. It had been almost two weeks since he’d last seen Elu. Despite his decision to return to the battle, he also felt he must atone for his cowardice. At last, Caleduil decided to seek the answer to both his problems. He wrote several letters and left them with the innkeeper. After packing his things, he left Isinhold seeking a priest of Angharradh to help him find atonement for his dishonor. Hopefully, he’d find Elu on the way.