Thim'ron Bucelarii - Seasonal and Time for Revenge

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 is my preference. 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 8th Level Warlock, Shadar-ki Elf. 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, 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 Evernight Magic Academy. Then I found my eldritch powers while at Ravens Keep. It was within those walls, where the Raven Queen herself, bestowed upon me a haunting "Rede".  A silent pact marking the beginnings my journey against the encroaching darkness embodied in the one named Natasha. I trained relentlessly, before coming to 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 my friend Lirael—a reckoning awaits, and the shadows that have clung to my existence begin to unravel with an urgency that demands resolution.

Thim'ron Bucelarii 
Google Gemini AI - 2024

Thim’ron Bucelarii - Warlock - Backstory

Welcome to my new Journal. 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, perhaps my Patron will have words of wisdom for us as well. 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.

My Story

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 when I was chosen for this mission. My parents were called away on a mission for the Raven Queen when I was twelve. Being too young to care for myself, and I was taken to the Shadowfell’s Magic Academy in Evernight. Little did I know that I’d spend the next ten years of my life there and never see my parents again.

For some reason, beyond my knowledge I was placed in the Quandrix College and while I didn’t particularly distinguish myself. However, if I had left, I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I managed to graduate though so that is something. All the while at the Academy, I didn’t seem to fit in anywhere, well other than the library where I became a student assistant. Looking back I have to laugh at some of antics of the patrons and students who filtered through there. Though working there helped me get my selected to work at the Great Library in the Fortress of Memories, which most of us call Ravens Keep.

Ravens Keep

Ravens Keep, yes, a dark place of memories, intrigue and grabs for power if there ever was one. I was just another low-level Shadar-kai working in the library. Where an old elf named Nyarmamaitar became my mentor and, in a realm bereft of camaraderie, often my sole companion. At some point I officially became his assistant and for many years, I worked and learned under him and others that deigned to notice a promising historian.

Though when Nyarmanaitar started teaching me those skills a peculiar tapestry of dreams and nightmares began, revealing glimpses of a verdant realm, me 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 sixty, Nyarmamaiter found me in the Keep's library reading a tome that that had called out to me from the Raven Queen’s forbidden section. Somehow I had managed to simply walk in and back out without setting off the protections and wards in place. It was almost there was a compulsion for me to get the tome, despite his previous dire warnings of what would happen for anyone going into that section, but the Raven Queen herself. 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. Lesson learned, don’t piss off old farts.

Then per the standing orders of the Raven Queen, he dragged 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 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 I should be allowed to read the tome and take it with me as necessary. If the wards did not stop me, to permit my undisturbed perusal of any others that I needed to read. As I was leaving I could see her speaking quickly to others in the room, then the door slammed shut behind me.

That night as I read through that old tome in my cell, I learned about a Shadowfell entity called The Hexblade. The book told of the powers it granted to favored ones of the Raven Queen and explained some of the expectations that it might have for those it chose to become a Hexblade. As I closed the book, I chose to ask the Hexblade to become my Patron and stood up with it in my hand as the illustration depicted…

Suddenly, there was a voice in my head and I remember it like it was yesterday. It said, “You have been chosen to become a Hexblade, will you accept my offer and become one of the Raven Queen’s Hexblades?” Of course I accepted, I had heard of Hexblades and knew of their fearsome powers. I had worshipped the Raven Queen as my deity all my life, and the contract that the Hexblade offered was more generous than I could have believed.

I immediately, felt changes inside of me, though I had a lot to learn, by signing the contract with my blood, I had become a Warlock. Although, I didn’t have much of an opportunity to learn much about my new powers or peruse that section of the Library that I now had access. much to my regret. For within a week, I found myself escorted along with ten others, back to the Evernight's magic academy.

Training for the Future

Within hours of arriving, the Raven Queen's enigmatic "rede," was ensorcelled into the very fabric of our souls. We were not allowed to associate with the other students and our classes were taught by Professors and Instructors chosen specifically for their expertise in their specialties whether at the Academy or from elsewhere, but there was no mentor/student relationships allowed. The cold grasp of stone cells, classrooms, and training fields became our new home and friendships between the students was completely discouraged. Though alliances between us were made, broken, and forgotten.  

The ensuing years unfurled a endless and relentless regimen of training, where we learned the histories of a world called Crannog and for me, the eldritch subjects that helped me better understand my burgeoning Warlock abilities. However, after first few years, the instructors focused more on practical warlock combat skills or strategies than nice to know theory.

Punishments for even the slightest misstep or lapse in focus were severe. Under the tutelage of heartless battle masters, assassins, and other killers, I evolved into a living weapon. One that followed their demands, eventually shaping me into a killer without remorse. During it all my Patron was pleased with my progress and motivated me to keep succeeding, even when the training became too onerous.

Within the crucible of this training, I often faced off against my fellow aspirants, each possessing unique skills and abilities, all while navigating the perilous dance of survival while training so close to the edge. The culmination of this relentless process led to a final confrontation - the last two survivors.  By this time we were both battle-hardened veterans and both deserving to live. However, it was not to be, it was decided by a majority of the instructors that the shadow monk named Kethir and I would battle to the death. The winner to be named the chosen one by the Queen and loser resurrected and held in reserve and continue training in case the victor died while attempting to challenge this entity called Natasha who was identified in the Queen's Rede. 

In the aftermath of my hard-fought victory, myself lying on the brink of death, the Raven Queen loomed over me, pressing her mark onto the inside of my right forearm, surrounding the Hexblade’s symbol.

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, so much so that I do not remember it either. Then for the second time in my life, my deity healed me back to full strength as she touched my forehead and then she disappeared.

The Raven’s Queen’s mark and my new surname seemed to have a profound effect on my status within the Evernight Magic Academy. Even the instructors and professors subtly changed how they approached me from that point on. Something had definitely changed as a result of gaining that mark and surname.

While the mark is something I earned from my Queen, I had had to kill another to gain it and deep down inside, I still wonder about that. However, it was kill or be killed and I prefer to live. I still do not know what Bucelarii means for sure, there are hints and my Patron avoids the question when I pose it. After I ended upon Crannog I even asked at the Inverness Magic Academy when I traveled there a few years ago. The Headmaster and Professor Lark are knowledgeable in many subjects, but even they have not been able to decipher the title completely. So to wear it openly, doesn't seem wise while on Crannog at least. In the Shadowfell though, I would wear it proudly.

As the lone survivor of the group of ten, the shadows seemingly deepened, and the pace of my training intensified. The instructors, were 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 and ready for whatever mission they had planned for me.

However, despite their best 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. In the solitude of my dreams, I envisioned 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 hold out my right arm. When I did she touched her mark on my arm…

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

Silva

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 pile of dark plain clothes that had a slight magical tinge to them, boots, my scimitar, leathers, shield, and a pack that I had always kept ready on the floor beside the bed. I quietly got dressed and could hear people talking in Common on the other side of the door, oblivious to the idea I might be awake. 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 disposable 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 for a time, using whatever local coin or other possessions that were useful that they might have had. As I melted into the shadowy embrace of 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 my newfound freedom, there continued to be an almost ever-persistent sensation of being watched from afar. Looking back, I do wonder how much of my life is shared with the Raven Queen because her tattoo allows others to track me or if my Patron let her know many of my true thoughts. No matter, despite being a harsh mistress, my Queen 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.

My Patron, well it is who I depend upon for my powers and I believe we are a good match.

The Master

Adrift in Silvaa, a realm starkly contrasting the shadows of the Shadowfell, I grappled with the unfamiliar nuances of survival. However, in the span of a few months, I carved a niche for myself among the denizens of Silvaa. Though I could feel the tug that I was here for a purpose beyond mere existence. My Patron agreed and I began looking for ways to move forward towards that objective.

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, who had become a persistent thorn in my efforts to establish myself in Silvaa. My plans for a permanent solution to this irritating guard were abruptly thwarted. A blade pressed against my throat signaled an unforeseen intervention, and I quickly learned that this particular Yuan-ti was protected by one I never heard approach. In an unsettling turn of events, this person subjected me to a barrage of pointed questions. When grappled from behind, with a blade at your throat, I discovered that I was very inclined to talk truthfully and quickly. When I divulged the existence of the enigmatic "Rede" and my potential part to play in it, a heavy silence enveloped us and I felt the knife twitch ever so slightly causing blood to trickle down my neck, casting an ominous pallor over the encounter.

He then told me he had been observing me for about a month and knife lifted slightly. Which concerned me even more, because I never once suspected being watched. He told me to continue, then once I finished 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 need time to think. Suddenly, I had the realization that my Patron was there with me, he suggested that I inquire about the terms and conditions of this apprenticeship, all while the knife remained poised at my throat. Yes, I probably could have teleported away, but this person had shown abilities that perhaps it would not have be a success. Plus, he had piqued mine and my patron’s interest. He permitted me to pose many questions as necessary. During his answers, he revealed his identity as a Night Angel, a calling that he claimed transcended the mere label of an assassin. Sensing an opportunity to evolve beyond the role of a mere killer, with my Patron’s concurrence, I 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 from the images I had seen in my dreams. It seemed that some of the shadows of my haunted dreams were coming to life.

The Master's apprenticeship as I learned, would be governed by strict terms, I committed to doing as he commanded even if it meant my death, though we agreed that my Patron could negotiate with him through me, if he required something that it could not condone, and calling him no name but Master. Finally, that I would embrace the Night Angel code throughout my apprenticeship. We sealed this agreement with a blood-bound contract before a Sorcerer and as we both finished, the Hexblade’s mark appeared on the contract as well.

Despite an initial period of unease for us both, then 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 probably will never become the traditional rogue/assassin, I became adept at many of the skills necessary to join Silvaa’s Assassin’s Guild.

Addressing a potential threat to my continued training, posed by my Shadar-kai heritage. One which was tolerated in Silvaa, but the open distrust of my race was one that made others very vigilant when they knew I was around. The Master provided a Hat of Disguise, allowing me to conceal my true form when necessary.

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, 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 this unusual friendship. Even my patron had a keen interest in Lirael and encouraged me to create a close bond with him.

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 created a formidable team. Oh, the stories I could tell.

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 and the person died the way that he deserved.

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 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.  I felt completely liberated from the ensorcelled contract with my former master. Even my Patron seemed pleased and excited about the road ahead.

After several conversations over the course of a few days, 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 meet contacts beneficial for my future, while avoiding entanglements or alliances that larger contracts inevitably incur.

I decided to leave quietly the next morning. 

As we said our goodbyes, Elarion gave me a Communication stone for when we needed to contact one another and parting gifts—a ring of spell storing, a versatile cloak of many fashions, and another set of dark, self-repairing clothes. I told him I would be meeting Lirael for breakfast and he chuckled, saying that he had thought about taking him on as an apprentice if the one he had lined up didn’t work out. That his sister had asked about him doing it, the other day.

I headed over to where I knew Lirael would be eating - he is too much a creature of habit. I discreetly revealed my new status to which he quickly congratulated me. During our parting conversation he talked with me about how his step-mother had suggested and 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. Storing away a small trinket of information that Elarion’s sister was Lirael’s step-mom Elena, who happened to be one of the high ranking military officers in Silvaa. 

Although, I pondered whether Lirael possessed the necessary killer instinct to fulfill contracts without remorse. I had few such qualms, though I agreed with the Night Angel code, it seems that part of me was torn away in the Shadowfell. 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 eldritch abilities that Elarion had posed to me. Plus, I wanted to know if they had come across any further information on the meaning of Bucelarii in the Shadowfell. I also knew that 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. 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 more support skills or focusing on attacking enemy casters behind their lines, while the more martial types kept everyone else busy. It doesn't mean that I can't fight and kill as a front-line fighter, 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, hell it was still dark. Elarion, delivered grim news—the death of Lirael. Natasha, that mysterious entity who is part of the Raven Queen's Rede, was identified as the perpetrator. Thus heralding the beginnings of the prophecy.

Elarion stated that the time had come for action to stop this Natasha person, before she grew even more powerful. At that point he asked me to meet him in Seasonal today -- as quickly as I could get here. Without delay, I departed the Inn I was staying at with my current adventuring band, awakening the leader and advising her 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 for Elarion to complete.

I was greeted at the door of the Red Rooster by Jax, she informed me that my room had been reserved as it is every year. 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 wondered what 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 hopefully enjoy her wonderful company, despite the Games now being over. She laughed heartily, let me know that I swasn’t her type that I was still too scrawny and she didn't want to break anything on me. We laughed again and I began weaving my way around the full common room to the stairs.

Upon reaching my room, I observed our usual security measures intact on both my door and Elarion's, which were locked as well. 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 large branches overhanging 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, a bag of holding, along with the contents had belonged to Lirael. The note was clear: clean up from my journey, read the journal, and meet with him in his room in two hours. There were things important in it that I needed to know, before talking to him.

After discussing things, my Patron read the journal as I did using my eyes. 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.

My Patron was quiet and said he needed time to process what we had read. He asked to be present when I spoke with Elarion and I agreed, because I value his counsel and this situation could directly effect the future of the Shadowfell.

As I sit here quietly contemplating what I read, 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 or what is in store for me, 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 and exact revenge for Lirael’s death.