Ever since he was a boy, Slinker has had the talent, and misfortune, of thievery. Picking pockets, hiding, and sneaking silently up on someone has always given Slinker much pleasure. No one knows if Slinker is his real name, for his parents were not known and both were dead within days of Slinker's birth. Slinker's only living relative is his uncle, a life-hardened, one-armed veteran thief named Rugbar, owner of the Silent Moondrop, the local tavern. Under Rugbar's tuteledge, Slinker developed his skills enough to pronounce himself as a beginning thief. Raised in the town of Freedell, he has aquired many friends including some of the local elves, the head of the city watch, the priests of the local temple, and many others. His pursuance of knowledge, particularly in the field of history, dialects, cultures, and geography seems almost fanatical. His practice of the thieving arts were always a restrained pleasure, seeing early in life that thieving could be a force of good and a force of evil, a choice he made for the side of good, even if with a slightly mischievous flair. His best of friends are Algore, an elven mage of a mysterious subrace known as "Crimson Elves," and Lordan the Pure, a Practicing priest at the local temple who is always trying to anger the party with aged cliches, or trying to second-guess the choices of the party, sometimes to its benefit. Let me next introduce Algore, the mage...
Algore Redwood has always been the source of mystical entertainment to the party. A long time friend of Slinker and Lordan, he grew up practicing the arts of magic under the tuteledge of the local royal and high elven mages. Due to his heritage and race, he was respected and liked, yet his outlandish ways, and lightning quick logic made him a very mysterious and refreshing resident of Freedell. He frequently visits the elven temple of the god Correllon, for he felt a sense of belonging and peace, though for what reason he knew not, equal to that of when he was in the company of Slinker and Lordan. Algore's past is reletively unknown. He was found in a recently raided caravan. All of the other travelers were killed, and there was no way to distingish the parents of the newborn elf. Ever since his understanding of the event, his quest to discover the truth has gone on relentlessly. His friends helping him gather the information he needds for his quest. The quest has however been haulted by the begining of his adventures with his friends. Algore is a very lawful person. His beliefs in justice, truth, and the power of good is relatively unmatched. He loathes undead and all forms of evil. He enjoys the thiefs company because of the fun Slinker's tirades usually lead to. His research of religious magics introduced him to our next character...Lordan the Pure...
Lordan, a practicing cleric at the Temple of Meridon, is the hard-nosed
religious influence in the party. His battle-worn mase and his book of clerical spells almost always at his side. As a boy, Lordan was taught the principles of good and evil and how good must always conquer. Though slow, Lordan's resilience and determination to think things through and defend the defenseless makes him a very welcome member of the group. His constant bickering with Algore and occasionaly violent arguments with Slinker express a constantly grumpy mood. This is only a facade, he is kind and honest, even when a half-truth would be polite, his willingness to give his life to the helpless is equaled only by his loathing of all things evil. This persona has presented him with many friends, as well as many enemies some even unneccesarily.
He first met Algore as an apprentice to the high priest of his order. He was told to help the young elf in all ways possible in the archives. He had heard stories of the mysterious elf, but had never had the chance to meet him. He met Algore and Slinker, who had come along to help, and have been a close friend with them since...
A light breeze stirs the leaves of the ancient oaks and light filters through their massive arms. The oaks have seen everything that has ever been or will be...They were sapplings under natures care during the Age of Beginning, they were young and hardy in the Birth of the Races, they were tall and stout at the beginning and end of The Great Wars, and now there roots are iron solid and harder than every substance save for steel as they watch the three figures take shape on the horizon. The movements of the beings seem familiar and reassuring. There speech jovial and comforting. The Oaks of Sentinel recognize the three as residents of the village they guard...the town of Freedell. They know the three not by name but by a sense that has been impressed upon the trees since the threes birth.
An owl takes his favorite branch in very powerful clutches at it observes the travelers. The first image steps swiftly into view. The owl's sharp eyes focusing on every detail. A large young man steps into the creatures awareness. His muscular body enveloped in the swirling robes customary of a follower of Meridon...the God of Light. The wind sends his robes in a whirlwind except for the pieces held down by the heavy mace at his side and the sack secured tightly to his back. His expression seems to change from mild humor to agitation as his lightly tanned features cycle back and forth from mirth to frustration. His blunt features present a somewhat comical face that is strangely offset by the ever-present look of concern in his large brown eyes.
"You better tone down them words of my sister ya' cur or there will be heads a rollin'." This threat retrieves a fit of laughter from the other two as they finally emerge from the side of a long row of Sentinels.
The first a short man...thin yet elegant as he takes graceful strides over the heavy roots as though he were walking on air. His face and body a harmony of grace as befits all elvenkind. His flaxen hair billows in the early morning breeze as his laughter booms through the silence. His hunter's green cloak and covers his bark-colored breeches and shirt.
