Thim'ron Bucelarii and a Journey to Seasonal

A PC that didn't make it to the table, but one that I wanted to keep, around and maybe update at some point and use him in either a different campaign or if another character bites the dust.

I learned the other night that we have a new player for our campaign and the other player who had his character die in session 13 are both playing martial tanky type characters. Which means if I play one too, that our campaign would be very unbalanced. So, I decided not to use the character that I planned to use and have put together multiple character before finally choosing to use a 6th level Shadow Monk and 2nd Level Shadow Sorcerer, Shadar-ki Elf. With the idea that I'll move up in levels of the class I use the features of most during the next few sessions. The character has some martial skills, which I prefer, but the build has enough variance to make him interesting and playable, but not so much that he is going to interfere with my ability to focus on role play during sessions.

TL;DR

Salutations, esteemed companions. I am Thim'ron Bucelarii, obviously a Shadar-kai, and my tale is shrouded in the veils of mystery. As my parents embarked on a mission sanctioned by the Raven Queen, too young to care for myself, I was given to the denizens of the ominous Fortress of Memories - they never returned. It was within those shadowed walls that I learned to be a sage and my sorcerous powers became evident. It was with in the walls of the Ravens Keep, where the Raven Queen herself, bestowed upon me a haunting "Rede".  A silent pact marking my journey against the encroaching darkness embodied in Natasha, who the Queen believes will eventually turn her eyes towards the Shadowfell. Trained relentlessly, I transformed into Bucelarii, a forgotten one, before coming to Silvaa here on Crannog. In the clandestine streets of that city, a mysterious figure, extended an opportunity to channel my newly honed skills for a purpose that transcended the shadows. Now, urgently summoned by him to Seasonal in the wake of an untimely demise of a friend from times long past—a reckoning awaits, and the shadows that have clung to my existence begin to unravel with an urgency that demands resolution.

Thim'ron Bucelarii
Image by Google Gemini AI - 2024

My Story

Welcome to my new Journal. At least I picked this one on my way to the Tavern this afternoon after arriving in Seasonal. I answered Elarion’s urgent summons and having read Lirael’s journal, I understand more the urgency for us to discuss what comes next. I have a short time before I need to go meet with him, so it seems that it’s time to start writing about my journey once more. If nothing else to simply remind myself of who I was once upon time.

I am called Thim’ron Bucelarii, a Shadar-kai whose earliest memories are of a small village nestled within the Shadowfell. My last name wasn’t always Bucelarii, but it is the name that I was given where I was trained. My parents were called away on a mission for the Raven Queen. Being too young to care for myself, I was brought to the Fortress of Memories, before they left, which most also call it Ravens Keep. A dark place of memories, intrigue and grabs for power if there ever was one. I was just another of the seldom seen children who were "allowed" to work and roam the Keep as best we could. I never  heard what happened to my parents, so I believe they were killed on that mission.

In the labyrinthine corridors of my youth in the Fortress, I could usually be found in the great library where a old Shadar-kai named Nyarmamaitar taught me to read and write. Eventually, I fell to assisting him in the library, where few others came. He became my mentor and, in a realm bereft of camaraderie, often my sole companion. Nyarmanaitar steered me through those formative years, his teachings were multifaceted, bestowing upon me not only the knowledge required of a Sage, but helping me harness my burgeoning sorcerous ability to weave simple sorcerous cantrips and spells as I matured.

During this time, a peculiar tapestry of dreams and nightmares unfolded, revealing glimpses of a verdant realm, training with a weathered human-like figure and battles being fought by armies in a strangely verdant world. These visions foretold of a future entwined with the destinies of others, converging in a party bound for a Keep nestled within the gray peaks far beyond the confines of the Shadowfell. The ominous allure of these dreams carried an undercurrent of both dread and wonder, hinting at a fate yet to unfold.

At about the age of thirteen, Nyarmamaiter found me in the Keep's library reading a book that seemingly called out to my sorcerous self from the Raven Queen’s forbidden section. Somehow I had managed to slip into and get back out without setting off the protections in place. Yes, I had gone in, despite Nyamanitar’s dire warnings of what would happen. He, being both disappointed and scared for his own well-being, beat me mercilessly to show others how egregious he thought the offense had been.

Then per the standing orders of the Raven Queen, he brought me directly to her for judgment, though I was barely able to stand. After waiting for what seemed like hours, she, the one who I was taught to worship as a God, deigned to question who I was, and why I was in the library. Nyamanitar explained, then she beckoned me closer, as I was kneeling before her she touched me and suddenly went into a trance. During which she proclaimed a “Rede”:

"In the shadowed annals of Crannog's fate, whispers weave the tale of a Shadar-ki warlock, veiled in mystery, destined to dance with destiny's threads. Born under the crescent moon, this silent adept shall tread the shadow path unseen. A harbinger against the looming darkness embodied in Natasha, an ancient force awakening wanting the rule of worlds and realms untold, including those of shadow. His steps, swift as the night’s shadows, shall unravel the enigma, a key to the realm's harmony. In the dance of shadows and echoes, the silent guardian, holds the power to mend the fractures and stand against the encroaching abyss.”

After that the Raven Queen looked around with a gaze of dismay and surprise etched upon her regal countenance. She healed me of my injuries and beckoned me to stand and commanded Nyamanitar to take me back to the library. That he should provide me with the tome that I had been reading and to permit my undisturbed perusal of any others that I my instinct told me to read. As I was leaving I could see her speaking quickly to others in the room, then the door slammed shut behind me.

I didn’t have much of an opportunity to peruse that section of the Library for within a week, I found myself escorted along with four others - another Shadar-kai named Kethir, an Eladrin elf named Thorn, a Fairy called Corvin, a Bugbear strangely bearing the same name Kethir, and a Human who lasted only a few hours, to Shadowfell's equivalent of a magic academy nestled in the midst of the city of Evernight.

We five were held separately from the other students at the academy. The cold grasp of stone cells, classrooms, and training fields became our home. Within the first few hours the Raven Queen's enigmatic "rede," was forcibly ensorcelled into the very fabric of our souls. Yet, amidst the collective obedience, I alone grappled with haunting nightmares of a verdant world, a stark contrast to the perpetual shadows of the Shadowveil.

The ensuing years unfurled a relentless regimen of training, where I enjoyed learning the histories of a world called Crannog and sorcerous subjects that helped me understand those burgeoning abilities. However, they were quickly overtaken by Monk combat skills, though all were relentlessly forged into the essence of my being. Punishments for even the slightest misstep or lapse in focus were severe, yet my innate talents persisted, garnering attention. Under the tutelage of heartless instructors, I evolved into a living weapon, the echoes of their demands shaping me into a killer without remorse.

Within the crucible of this training, I faced off against my fellow aspirants, each possessing unique skills and abilities, all while navigating the perilous dance of survival. The culmination of this relentless process led to a final confrontation, a battle to the death between myself and the Shadar-kai warlock named Kethir. In the aftermath of my hard-fought victory, lying on the brink of death, the Raven Queen herself loomed over me, callously pressing her Shadowfell Brand tattoo onto the inside of both of my forearms and back.

With a loud declaration for all to hear, she named me Bucelarii—a forgotten one. From that moment forth, my old surname vanished, magically erased from the annals of the Shadowfell. There was a female’s laughter inside my head which chilled me to the bone, despite already being so close to death myself. Then for the second time in my life, my deity healed me back to full strength and as I knelt before her, she touched my forehead, then she disappeared.

That new tattoo seemed to have a profound effect on me and my status within Ravens Keep. When I look back, on anyone who was not one of my instructors as well, but even they subtly changed how they approached me from that point on. Something had definitely changed as a result of gaining that tattoo and to this day, I keep it covered with leather bracers and seldom go shirtless in public. While the tattoo is something I earned from my Queen, I still do not know what Bucelarii means for sure, there are hints. But none have been able to decipher the title completely either, because both I and my master have sought the answer to that question. So to wear them openly, doesn't seem wise.

As the lone survivor of the group of five, the shadows seemingly deepened, and the pace of my training intensified. The instructors, driven by an urgency that hinted at an impending event, only escalated their violence and brutality - I was being honed to a razor's edge.

Despite their attempts to eradicate any trace of morality from my soul, a stubborn spark of defiance and, dare I say, decency persisted in the darkest recesses of my being. A silent vow crystallized within me—to escape to the elusive realm that my visions foretold. In the solitude of my dreams, I envisioned emancipating myself, becoming my own master, and utilizing my skills for a purpose that wouldn't crush the very essence of my soul.

Then the fever-pitched training suddenly stopped. I was taken back to Ravens Keep and brought before the Queen. As I knelt before her, she bade me to stand, and take off my shirt, then turn away from her. When I did she touched a part of the Shadowfell Tattoo that was on my back.

That is the last thing I remember. There are indistinct images, but nothing more. 

When I awoke it was in a grubby little room that felt different from anywhere I’d ever been before. The air, smells, and lighting were different. When I got up I noticed a new tattoo on my chest that I recognized as an eldritch claw, and pile of dark plain clothes on a small table beside the bed. I quietly got dressed and could hear people talking in Common on the other side of the door. After listening for a while, I surmised that I was brought to Silvaa on Crannog and these humans were hired to be my guardians.

I stayed with them for about a week, learning what I could from them about this backwater city of Silvaa. That is before their brutishness and stupidity made it obvious that they were to be disposed of once I felt comfortable in this new environment. Seizing on a moment of inattention on their part, which wasn’t difficult, I swiftly dispatched those five humans, they had performed the function expected of them and I didn't need witnesses to who I was. Then I used their place as a base and melted into the shadowy embrace of the Silvaa's underbelly. Looking back the Shadar-kai had orchestrated this opportunity for me to transition to Crannog quite nicely. Now to fulfill the Raven Queen's enigmatic Rede and the visions I continued to have about the pending battles and the old human male

Despite the taste of freedom from the Shadar-kai's clutches, an ever-persistent sensation of being watched from afar haunted different chapters of my life. Looking back, I do wonder how much of my life is shared with the Raven Queen because her tattoo allows others to track me. No matter, the Raven Queen was a part of my life's weavings from its start and I imagine she will always be. Despite being a harsh mistress, she is the deity that I worship and how many can say they have met their God.

I have, and I have been touched by her.

Silvaa

Adrift in an unfamiliar city, a realm starkly contrasting the shadows of the Shadowfell, I grappled with the unfamiliar nuances of survival in Silvaa. In the span of a few months, I carved a niche for myself among the less reputable denizens of Silvaa, but knew that I was here for a purpose beyond mere existence and that I needed to do more connected to my Queen’s Rede. It was in this precarious stage of my newfound life that an unexpected encounter unfurled, altering the trajectory of my fate.

While in the stealthy pursuit of a dark-haired Yuan-ti city guard Sergeant named Lirael Glimmereye-Harper, a persistent thorn in my side, my plans for retribution were abruptly thwarted. A blade pressed against my throat signaled an unforeseen intervention, and quickly I learned that this particular Yuan-ti was untouchable, shielded from harm by one I never heard approach. In an unsettling turn of events, he subjected me to a barrage of pointed questions about my past. When grappled from behind, with a blade at your throat like that you are very inclined to talk truthfully and quickly. Finally, I divulged the existence of the enigmatic "Rede," a heavy silence enveloped him, casting an ominous pallor over the encounter.

Elarion Shadowweaver - The Master
Image by Bing Image Creator - 2023

Intriguingly, it appeared that this mysterious figure had observed me for about a month without me realizing it. Once I divulged my tumultuous story, he presented me with a stark choice—become his apprentice or return to the Raven Queen as a new memory for her Fortress of Memories. While the illusion of choice hung in the air, I acknowledged the remarkable feat of his silent approach.

Seeking some clarity and time to think, I inquired about the terms and conditions of this apprenticeship, while the knife remained at my throat. Yes, I probably could have teleported away, but this person had piqued my interest. The enigmatic person permitted me to pose as many questions as necessary. He revealed his identity as a Night Angel, a calling that transcended the mere label of an assassin. Sensing an opportunity to escape the confines of the Shadar-kai's indoctrination and evolve beyond the role of a mere killer, I decided to embrace his proposal and told him I would become his apprentice.

I gave my word to not attempt to get away and he released me. When I turned to look upon the visage of my new master, I found it to be none other than the old human images I had seen in my dreams. It seemed that some of the shadows of my haunted dreams were coming to life.

Under The Master's tutelage, it would be governed by strict terms, I committed to doing as he commanded even if it meant my death, calling him by no other name than Master, and that I would embrace the Night Angel code throughout my apprenticeship. We sealed this agreement with a blood-bound contract before a Sorcerer.

Despite an initial period of unease for us both, the months blurred into a whirlwind of learning and transformation. While The Master's methods diverged from the brutality of the Shadar-kai, they were no less lethal and pushed me to the brink of mortality on numerous occasions. Yet, amidst the challenges, he imparted a plethora of new skills and elevated my burgeoning abilities to levels beyond my imagination, though I will never become the traditional rogue/assassin, I became adept at many of the skills necessary.

Addressing one potential threat to my continued training, posed by my Shadar-kai heritage. One which was tolerated in Silvaa, the open distrust of my race was one that made others very vigilant when they knew a I was around. The Master provided a Hat of Disguise, allowing me to conceal my true form when necessary and I was also able to cast the disguise self spell as well as a result of all my time in the Shadowfell.

During this period, a peculiar camaraderie blossomed between myself and the dark-haired Yuan-ti named Lirael. The same now former city guard sergeant that had been such a thorn in my side, something we both chuckled about many times in local watering holes. He had become a Twilight Cleric and was learning more about himself as well. The Master, well acquainted with Lirael and his foster family and the orphanage where he was left in Silvaa, not only approved of our friendship but actively encouraged it. Sharing much in common, we collaborated on several occasions to our mutual benefit, forming an usual bond.

Over the span of five years under The Master's guidance, our relationship evolved beyond that of master and apprentice; we became almost friends, only limited by the obligations under our Contract. Our collaboration in problem-solving and working together solidified us into a formidable team.

On one fateful night, The Master declared I was no longer his apprentice. That he had imparted all he could, and he deemed it necessary for me to stand on my own and join the Assassin's Guild as a full member. Which meant taking and completing an assassin's contract from the Guild. I too believed I was ready as well and quickly took and completed the contract. I won't go into the details of my first contract kill, other than to say, it was done.

With the contract being fulfilled, I was now accepted as a fully fledged member of the Silvaa Assassin's Guild, which had connections throughout both Mirror and Prime Terras. Completing the contract to me was simply something that was necessary and had to be done to formally end my apprenticeship in accordance with our initial agreement. To me earning that title of assassin was not as important as my former master naming me friend and that I was now to call him Elarion.

After several conversations regarding my future, he made the suggestion for me to engage in adventurous pursuits for at least a couple of years before returning to Silvaa or taking on anything more than minor contracts. This hiatus would serve to confirm whether Silvaa was my desired settling place and allow me to acquire additional skills, knowledge, and contacts beneficial for my future, while avoiding entanglements or alliances that larger contracts inevitably incur.

I decided to leave quietly the next morning.

As I made ready to depart Silvaa and my room at Elarion's home, I felt completely liberated from the ensorcelled contract with my former master. The Night Angel code that Elarion followed, had become my own during my apprenticeship under him. At the door we said our goodbyes and he gave me a Communication stone for when we needed to contact one another and parting gifts—bracers of defense, a versatile cloak of many fashions, and a set of dark, self-repairing clothes.

I eagerly embraced the journey that lay ahead.

Though before setting off I took time to say farewell to Lirael over a breakfast where I knew he would be eating. I discreetly revealed my new status to which he quickly congratulated me. During our parting conversation he talked with me about how he was contemplating his own apprenticeship under The Master to become a Night Angel as well. I acknowledged the extensive journey and exceptional mentorship that awaited him if he chose that path and wished him well.

Although, I pondered whether Lirael possessed the necessary killer instinct to fulfill contracts without remorse. I had few such qualms, it seems that part of me was torn away in the Shadowfell, but Lirael was different and even I could see that. Later I would find that my observations had been sadly correct. We then said our fare thee wells and I left Silvaa and headed towards Inverness.

There were things I wanted to study at Academy Library there for a while, renew some acquaintances I had made with a couple of professors, especially Professor Lark who had helped me solve a perplexing riddle about one of my sorcerous abilities that Elarion had posed to me. Also, Inverness was a better place to find an adventuring group where my reputation and past didn't precede me.

Venturing into the realm of an adventurer revealed how well I had been trained, both in the Shadowfell and with Elarion. It also unveiled my former master's formidable reputation, which all often preceded me, as he has many friends and contacts throughout Crannog. I learned having been his apprentice unlocked many opportunities that would have been previously unimaginable. Amidst the perils of adventuring, I acquired wealth, prized possessions like the Boots of Flying, along with potions and scrolls. The varied experiences and connections that were formed along the way echoed Elarion's wisdom, guiding my path as I explored the vast expanses of Crannog.

I also learned that I am not a front line fighter and do better with the more support skills or focusing on attacking enemy casters behind their lines, while those more martial types kept everyone else busy. It doesn't mean that I can't fight and kill, but that I have other skills that adventurers tend to undervalue, but are critical to the success of most adventuring parties.

Seasonal

Nearly two years had passed when my Communication stone abruptly roused me from slumber early this morning. It was Elarion, delivering grim news—the death of Lirael. Natasha, that mysterious entity who was part of the Raven Queen's Rede, was identified as the perpetrator. Thus heralding the beginnings of the prophecy embedded in the Raven Queen's "rede." 

Elarion stated that the time had come for action to stop this Natasha person. At that point he asked me to meet him in Seasonal today -- as quickly as I could get here. Without further delay, I departed the Inn I was staying at with my current adventuring band, leaving them a note that I had a family emergency to attend to and that I wouldn't be back to join them. Once on the road, I found myself hastily making my way toward Mirror Gate to teleport to Seasonal, attempting to anticipate what might happen once I got there.

Arriving at the Red Rooster Tavern later this afternoon, in the guise of an elf who frequented the games with a friend each year. We never participated, although we were always quite busy after the Games had ended with several newly signed contracts.

I was greeted at the door of the Red Rooster by Jax and having known her for several years in this particular guise, she informed me that my usual room had been reserved for the games. However, she chuckled and informed me that it had been empty for the previous three days. She let me know I was still being charged for those nights and something must have happened to delay me. We bantered back and forth for a minute or two, I had to keep up appearances for this identity. I told her I had been unexpectedly delayed on business and that I still wanted to come to Seasonal and have some of the Red Rooster's fine mead and her wonderful company, despite the Games now being over. She laughed heartily, and told me my friend had also arrived early this morning. She said, business must have been very important for you both to miss the Games. I just smiled, waved, and began weaving around the full tables to the stairs.

Upon reaching my room, I observed our usual security measures intact on both my door and Elarion's. No one had passed through either since his departure. My room, situated at the end of the hall, overlooked the main street on the top level of the tavern, while Elarion's was across the hall and provided a convenient escape route or a discreet entrance, that large oak tree not far from his window and branches brushing up to the roof.

Entering my room, I quickly went to our hidden drop spot and discovered a bag and a journal lodged there, accompanied by a note from Elarion. The journal, bag of holding and it along with the contents had belonged to Lirael. The note was clear: clean up from my journey, rest a minute, then read the journal, and meet with him in his room in two hours. In other words, he was giving me time to read Lirael's journal. There was something important in there that I needed to know, before talking to him.

Reading the journal elicited many foreign emotions for me and explained many things that I needed to know about our present situation. Especially the last entry by Natasha. One who admittedly survived beheading by a Vorpal Sword swung by Lirael, and according to the account she left, easily countered the best efforts of two renowned warriors in Landriss and Lirael who were quite well equipped to handle most situations according to what I could glean from previous journal entries. I know of the hills she wrote of in that last entry and will visit there the next time I lay eyes on Silvaa to honor the spirit of my friend.

Uncertain of Elarion's plans for the future, I pondered the mysteries embedded in the Raven Queen’s Rede and how the return of Natasha would play out. Acknowledging that its true significance would probably remain elusive until the further unfolding of events. Yet, one thing was certain—with the knowledge that Natasha was here, I would be called upon to help thwart her plans of dominance.

Now to talk to Elarion.