The Spirit Who Walks

[*UQT]

First Name: Lannia
Last Name: Tannen Ranloss

Appearance:
Race: human
Age:24
Height 5’8”
Weight: 135lbs
Eyes: deep sapphire blue
Hair: auburn
Hair Style: Messy layers, she doesn’t spend much time on such things It hides her freckled face well enough.

Personality Profile:
General Health: Unnaturally hardy.
Deity: Chauntea
Initial Alignment: Neutral Good
Profession: Fishing, hunting, artist, healer, crafter.
Base Class & Proposed Development: Shaman/Ranger
Habits/Hobbies: She likes to play, and never grew up that way. No one seems to mind. She says play is good for the soul. 

Languages: Common, Animal, Draconic 
Weapon of Choice: Longbow, Longsword

Background: ((this now only reflects her starting point, more posts to follow))

She would tell you she’s got no family and has always lived floating from flower to flower. Soon she’s in a new place, sleeping in new trees, and that’s how she likes it. No one so far has thought to question it. In reality, she is running. From what? She doesn’t know. Searing pain in her head, like a dark enchantment, bites at her every time she tries to remember. 

Her memories go as far back as being 12, and hungry. She saw things others did not, and used that to her advantage. She learned practical skills to hunt, fish, and barter. In her travels, she’s learned there is a name for what she is, but her path is not proper. Shamans have tribes, and an elder shaman to teach them. She does not… Why? Oh, there is that pain again.

So she moves on with a pain in her heart that tells her she once had family and that she doesn’t now. Anxiety nips at her heals and keeps her moving, but that empty throb in her head conceals why.

Her childish immaturity partially covers a deeper, innate wisdom. As people talk to her, they may find that superficial comments and jokes yield to deeper discussion, but it seldom gets that far. 

“I am nobody,” She would tell you, “Just a butterfly, dancing from flower to flower.”

[*UQT]

First days on the Sword Coast:

Lannia gets up every day. She dresses without looking at her ankles and wrists. She pats Hank, and thanks him, ruffling his fir. She walks down. She gets breakfast. 

It’s the little things…

She can’t hide from it. Foggy memories and missing pieces are not something that happened to her. It is something that is happening to her. It is active. It is now. She can’t think on the questions she wants answered. She knows now that it brings on the pain and further fragments her fragile reality. So how does one cope?

If the person who gave her these memories didn’t fill in details like where she got her bow and how she learned to hunt, she very much doubted that they told her to like pancakes, or not to like sausage. She breathes in, she breathes out, she moves her feet, she wiggles her toes, and she tries different drinks and foods to see what is hers. What can she own?

“I like blackberries,” She says to herself often, “I don’t like sausage.”

She holds these things. She clings to them. She eats her breakfast, and tries not to look at the other side. The darkness; it is everywhere and nowhere, like seeing something from the corner of her eyes. It is a constant weight, pressing on her. Whatever that woman did to her that night, it made the shadows come, and Lannia couldn’t help flinching every time looked at one too hard. 

She forgets to breathe when the weight is at its heaviest.

So she puts a blackberry in her mouth and chews. 

“I like blackberries.” 

“I don’t like sausage.”

One breath, then another. 

She waits at the temple. She wants to go fishing, but she waits. She wants to run, but she waits. She puts one foot before the other, and one minute after the next. When she is with her friends she laughs, and she acts like she is feeling like Lannia. Inside, she’s not sure who Lannia is any more. 

She sleeps a lot lately. It used to be that the last thing she remembered hearing before sleeping was a heartbeat that wasn’t hers. Now she focuses on Hank. His heartbeat, his fur, and his sloppy tongue on her face.

Another day passes…

Another day, survived.

[*UQT]

When she is dancing, she feels free and she forgets. You wouldn’t think she would want to forget, but she does. She wants to forget for a moment that the shadows move around her, forget for a time that her past is the darkest of those shadows, and forget that she is a prisoner.

Surrounded by friends, in fine walls, on fine linen, she is trapped. The woods and the spirits call to her, and she would tear her own skin off to run to them. She wonders why she has that compulsion, and why the city is so confining to her. Is that some remnant of the spell that compels her to run? Something she is unnaturally forced to desire?

A few nights back the first controlled examination of her condition was done. No one spoke to her about the results for some time. She began to feel as though she had a terminal disease that no one wanted to talk to her about. Derik finally told her some of it, though she felt that there were details he left out to spare her. Talking on certain things, getting too many details, always seemed to make the headaches come. With the headaches came the desire to dig through solid stone if needed to escape. 

He told her someone had made her into a paper doll. They had erased and rewritten her over and over. There may be no way to fully reverse the damage. They probably won’t know until they try so she must wait. She waits within a mind she doesn’t know is hers, surrounded by friends she is terrified that she will hurt, walled in by fine, stone walls. She is trapped within a trap, within a trap. 

So she dances. She looks to the door, but doesn’t run. Inside she knows that she will not be any more free out there. The shadows will follow her and her past will catch her sooner or later. As the day looms closer that they will attempt to peel back the enchantments around her mind she dances more often to escape the terror. 

Courage is not defined by a lack of fear, but what you face despite your fear. If all she gains are scraps of reality, then it is infinitely more than she has. 

She stuffs herself on blackberries and gives Derik all her sausage.

[*UQT]

Lannia slides a finger around the silk cuffs she wears. She no longer wears gloves all the time. The enchantment that forced that upon her is gone. 

She smiles, thinking on the man that gave her these cuffs and the declaration upon them. She was her own now, regardless of what evils were visited upon her in the past. 

She looks into the nearby fire, watching the spirits of the flame dance. Her people were a small tribe and her grandfather the most powerful Shaman they had known. She'd shown promise from a very early age and was to be trained by him. 

She had a loving family, 7 siblings, a doting grandfather, and a bright future by the measures that she knew. Now... All of it is gone. 

Lord Marius, a drow, had brought his enchanters to her village to collect her grandfather. Marius's aim was to make her grandfather into one of his warped minions, but not before he used those enchantments to make her grandfather kill everyone in the village. Lannia was to be the last victim. She was only 6.

She touches the curve of her deltoid where a large scar shows it was nearly taken off in one swipe. Roughly stitched and probably poor mended, the scar is a reminder of the cruelty of that night. Her grandfather swinging a blade at her, making contact and backing her into a corner.

She was so small. So afraid. She closed her eyes and braced herself for what was coming, and then, in an act of true heroism, her grandfather got a hold on himself just enough to call upon the spirits of fire. He called them to himself and was incinerated before her.

Marius was not pleased, and had no use for a bleeding little girl. Lannia didn't care what he had use for. She called the spirits of fire upon him. She, a girl of only 6, nearly broke through his wards in an powerful display. Having called more power than a tiny frame could handle and lost a lot of blood she crumbled. The world went black.

For the next 16 years, she was his mind slave. He had his enchanters erase her memories, and impose new identities upon her. At first a child assassin, as no one will suspect a cute, little, freckle-faced red head. To his great shock, less than a year into that identity a screaming blur of red launched at him from his balcony with tiny poisoned dagger in hand. 

She had not remembered anything except that she could hear his black, withered heart... and she wanted it to stop.

This became the pattern. He would kill anything she'd come to value over him, then just erase them from her mind and reprogram her. Who knows what purpose it served to kill them other than a sick punishment she would not even remember. It was her compassion and the sound of that black heart in her ears that drove her to rebel over and over. 

It became a game to Marius. How soon would she rebel? What was the puzzle piece he needed to permanently brainwash her? Then she got too close. Her shaman wisdom made her a perfect zen archer, and her arrow pierced his shoulder even through his various deflection wards.

This time, as punishment for wounding him, he wanted to try something especially cruel.

One thing he had not tried was to use her love against her, so he ordered his lead enchanter to make Lannia love him. Zachary had done most of the mind magic on Lannia over the years. He'd come to a fatherly sense of pride in her that she so often resisted. 

No one else came back to him to be reprogrammed, no one else resisted, but she did, again and again. He knew all of her stories, all of her lifetimes, from 6 years to 22. In every one of them, he admired her. 

He couldn't do it. He could not let Marius use that inner light to suck her dry. Life as Marius's woman would be no life at all for Zachary's Little Lani. Normally, he had days, weeks if he needed, to carefully construct a new personality, but he knew they would get wise to him quickly. With great haste, in less than a night, he made her forget Lord Marius and his dreadful stronghold of slaves. 

He only had time to give her 10 foggy years of memories. His final acts were to compel her not to look at the tattoos on her wrists and ankles, to run when questioned about her past, and to forget if she should be pushed to remember anything about herself.

He felt horrid about the mind traps he placed upon her, but he could think of no better way to protect her from Marius. He teleported her a world away to Ulgoth's beard with a fishing pole and a modest shortbow. If he felt he had any grace left to spare with the Gods, he wished it to go to her. 

She went to fish. Her foggy memories told her that she fished and trapped for a living, and she had a pole in her hands. Then this brown haired, brown eyed, man walked up...

Oh... He was handsome, and even inch a warrior. She was not the type to fall for such things, but it didn't stop her from talking and joking as she fished. Then this old man showed up and started in on them. Ever insufferable, Lannia flirted with the old man, who evaporated into thin air. 

She barely had time to react when the pink scarves showed up. Three armed men came down the beach to collect her. A she was mostly unarmed, and having had all her memories erased, she had no idea how to fight them. 

She tried to charm them. She offered them a drink as she looked to the woods as a place to run, and then the warrior stepped in. It really wasn't a battle. They were standing, and then they were not.

The men had offered him 30 bags to step aside, and let them have her before the fighting started. The bounty they were collecting on was huge and it was not clear if the bounty was for her or just for shamans. The warrior, Derik Ranloss, collected her and took her to see his friends. 

They decided she needed to be protected, and Derik was assigned to guard her. From that day on, he was never far from her side.

It became obvious as new, vivid memories were formed that her old memories were counterfeit. When she tried to remember it caused her pain. There were a few instances when she was pushed too hard by a circumstance and she lost new pieces of time. The enchantments upon her were active and compelling, and she would have no rest under them. She had terrible night terrors, and occasionally behaved counter to her normal personality. 

She smiles at the fire wistfully as she remembers. Oh, how she tried to resist Derik Ranloss in the midst of all that confusion... For a time, she even fired him, and told him to bugger off. She was wise to do so, of course. Without her memories, she could barely call herself a whole person. That was not the time to be involved, and he was quite insistent to the contrary. 

Then there were the warnings. He was a flirt, he was a skirt chaser, he was in love with the idea of love. It didn't help that he told her about another woman in her situation he had fallen for. It just smacked of romantic disaster...

She stepped back, considered the stories and watched him. When other women in his past put him off, he'd respectfully given up. Oh well, not meant to be... As long as they're happy. Here he was. Still at her side. Protecting her without pay, keeping a respectful distance, mindful of her boundaries... But... Unmistakably, utterly, still in love with her. He kept the distance she demanded, but the warmth of his eyes every time he looked at her betrayed that he had not given up. He would not give up, ever. 

At first, she thought he just hadn't processed it yet and it would sink in. She was sure she would eventually see him turn his attentions elsewhere. Instead he was only more devoted to her in the ways that he could be. He threw himself into finding out why the pink scarves had wanted her, and he immersed himself in finding someone to help heal her mind. Each day that passed, he was completely a gentleman, but she could see him waiting inside for his opening. His chance to be with her... Forever

Then the mission on the Roaringshore... Seeing the drained bodies of so many of her kindred shaman and seers. That night Zachary put her on that beach... It was almost out of one hole and into another. This would have been her fate.

Derik all but fell apart afterwards. For the first time, he needed her, so she let him stay with her. Nothing unsavory, just a friend, comforting a friend. By dawn's light she realized something…

She could have been on that pile, and could yet be taken by either of the forces that wanted her; Marius, or the followers of the Grey Seer. In the meantime, she was denying herself and Derik what happiness could be had. 

She stripped the boundaries between with single-minded determination. 

And now they were together. Weeks of training and inns. A mission or two... and then he suggested they get an apartment. She gladly accepted.

She traces the cuffs again. "I am my own and I give myself to him." 

They covered the tattooed manacles on her wrists. They were a beautiful gesture from the man she loved. He presented them to her when they broke the enchantments on her mind and gave her a new life's mission.

She would find, and end Marius. The one who took so much from her and erased it like it was nothing. This paper doll would return to her master and make him pay for every lost future. This time, she had friends, and her love at her side. This time, she was not alone.

[*UQT]

She trains every day. She must get stronger. 

A direct attack on Marius's stronghold is suicide, even with all her new friends and family at her side. No, she has to get stronger, and bring Marius to her. 

She starts introducing herself as Lyria so the trail left by her name will not lead straight to her. Still, as a shaman and a zen archer with unruly auburn hair, deep blue eyes, and freckles she is conspicuous. She knows the name change won't buy much, but any time it buys is time gained. She knows Marius's style. He'll already have his agents out, looking for his favorite toy. They will have orders to find her and to catch her if it is easy. However, their prime mission will be to find her, to report her location, and what people surround her back to Marius. Marius collects important slaves in person. 

So he will eventually come. He will show up with a small force of his best enchanters, some rogues and fighters, and enough clerics to keep them healed and fighting. He will keep one mage right at his side to teleport him away if things go wrong. Her arrows will go into that mage first. 

She hopes to have the chance to get stronger, and to call him out personally. If she can pick the place and time, it is one more advantage that they desperately need. Then there is plan B... If things go wrong, she is not going back.

[*UQT]

She tucks her unruly auburn locks under the dull, mud-brown wig she wears. Out training she wears a cowl and hides her face as much as possible. She has taken to introducing herself as only Lyria, with no last names offered. While friends work to establish her new identity, she continues to train. 

She is now able to enter spirit form, and has impressive number of spells at her disposal. Still she wonders how many more she would have if Marius had not cross trained her as a ranger. She wonders that until she puts an arrow through an orc's throat. 

She is out alone a lot more often. She knows it's a risk, but she needs to get strong fast and can't always wait for a big group to be at her disposal. Something in her wonders if she is doing it on purpose. If Marius finds her with friends and unprepared, her friends will not survive the encounter.

==================================================================

A new day, more training. A new secret, another piece of happiness Marius's shadow forces into darkness. She draws her bow and lands a shot on a far off orc. He charges and she puts two more in him. She holds the last one. She looks into his eyes as he hesitates. She sees Marius's face and growls. He charges. 

She collects a few gold pieces from the corpse and heads for the cave. Another day... More training.



=======================================================================================

She joined them by the fire. They were debating on right and wrong. One arguing for bondage of one's self to friends, and organizations to keep yourself honest. The other arguing for personal power and self reliance. Arguments were always like this. She wondered if people really believed the extremes to which they profess. Perhaps they argue extremely because they think that is what the other person needs to hear to take a single step in the other direction. 
"Organizations are often corrupted. Pledge yourself blindly and you may find you end up serving the very vileness the organization once opposed. Self reliance is good, but eventually our own talents wear thin, and if we accept no one, our ideas remain unchallenged and arrogant. The real answer is... Balance."

As the two continued to argue over each other, they were joined by more people. Then... A skeleton walked up, as casually as if it were one of them.

As a shaman, she wasn't put off by the undead spirit. She did find the bondage of necromancy, a sister art, to be kin to slavery. The spirits where unnaturally bound and in pain. The Skeleton asked their names. She gave her alias, "Lyria."

The bones chattered as it spoke in a cold, dead, voice. It said it would give their names to the caretaker to discuss right and wrong at a later time individually. It called the group, "Philosophers."

She was trying to extract information from the spirit when the other woman in the group started to become impatient; wanting to smash the skeleton. Lyria defended the spirit, as she was still trying to get information from it.

Then as she was addressing the group the skeleton started to move away. The other woman lost patience and rained down a bast of ice, shattering the skeleton into a pile of bones. Distraught, having wanted to try to release the spirit peacefully as she had with incorporeal spirits in the past, she angrily argued with the woman. 

Then two more skeletons showed up to collect the bones. She walked over, offering only an open-handed attack to stop the collection before attempting to free the spirits from their unnatural bonds. She tried the same spells she'd used in the past only to find them ineffective on the undead skeletons. As much as it pained her to bring violence down on an enslaved spirit... Bring violence, she did.

She stood center to them and called to the lesser spirits of the wind and fire to strike down the skeletons in a storm of lightning. Thinking still more would come to collect them, she made sure there was nothing to collect. She called the spirits of fire to scorch the remains to bone shards and dust. 

To extinguish the fire blazing around her before it took the whole of the forest beside FAI, she called an ice storm and stood dead center a scarred circle. She called to the spirits of the earth to claim what was left of the bones and hopefully recover the area. While the vines did claim what fragments were left, the ground was still scarred. 

She rummaged her pack for some seeds from the area. It was not nearly enough to replant it, but it was a start. She scattered the seeds and hoped her druid friends and the spirits would forgive her for her extremes.

Feeling defeated by the encounter she sat heavily on the ground. Only six when her grandfather was killed, what she remembered of him was that he always seemed to have the answers. He always knew what to do to appease the spirits. She retreated to the roof of FAI and put her gear on. 

She looked into the fire. She begged the spirits to guide her. She was a lost lamb, a shaman with no teacher. She held her hands to the flame. Odd that flame killed her grandfather, but never seemed to harm her. The spirits of fire seemed to grieve with her that they were called to consume a great friend of the spirit realm. 

There she cried softly... She could remember few of the rights and rituals of her people. So much had died that could not be returned. Hopefully, the spirits would continue to be patient with her. She prayed to them, spoke to them often, asking what to do and got very few answers. She thought... "At least they must know I am trying."

She awakens new powers routinely. Suddenly she will just know how to call to the spirits in a new way. She begins to wonder if she is being taught on some level in her dreams. Still she continues to look for a teacher and to get stronger, lest she anger the spirits with her complacency. Hopefully the spirits will answer her, or a teacher will appear.

[*UQT]

Lannia turned the vial over in her hands and itched at her scalp. They only make wigs in itchy, very itchy, and "Dear Gods my scalp!" Months of wearing the damnable thing had not desensitized her to it. Still her focus was mostly on the small vial of black liquid. 

She had bought it from an alchemist who swore it was the most toxic poison to be acquired. It was her plan B for so long. She had means of contacting people if she were captured, even a better than decent escape spell. If those failed, and Marius's stronghold were in view, this was her last resort. Months she's managed to hide this tiny vial from everyone, even her beloved Derik. 

Lately she'd been thinking. How had she resisted so many times? How had she found the desire to rebel even with lifetimes of memories that should have compelled her to serve Marius blindly. There was the pounding of his black heart in her ears, sure, but the more she thought on it, the more she remembered the ache. 

There was this ache in her heart of love, precious and forgotten. A family that had been erased from her again and again. Her compassion, as she watched others taken by Marius often drove her over an edge that love had already poised her on. Love drove her to rebel, and that is why Marius wanted to use love to compel her before Zachary helped her escape.

And love... Would always call her to fight. If she were taken again, though her mind may be wiped clean of any traces of her new family and her warrior, she believed her heart would remember. It would remember as it had remembered the love of her tribe. 

She took the vial back to the alchemist that day. She didn't even ask for a refund or try to sell it back to him. She pressed the vial into his hands and walked away.

"If we should be torn apart, my love... We will just have to fight our way back and meet in the middle over the bodies of the fools who thought they could separate us." 

Another day... More training...

=======================================================================

Lannia’s Memories (Viewed in reverse as this is the order she would regain them if the enchantments were dispelled):

She had a mother, a father, and 7 siblings. All of them burn in her mind. Their laughter, their dreams; they are empty echoes that keep her from peaceful sleep but she forgets them every time she wakes up.
She has three things she remembers well, though she doesn’t understand them. The sound of a heartbeat that isn’t hers, the feeling of a family lost that she can’t name, and the last suggestion given to her.
……………………….

“Run, Lani,” Zachary said softly, “Run, and keep running.” 

He pushes her through the portal onto the beach with tears in his eyes, “You are now no one. You are a beautiful butterfly, dancing from flower to flower. Now… RUN!”
……………………….
Years of false memories burn like so much dry paper. She falls away from the beach at Ulgoth’s Beard, through a portal into darkness. She opens her eyes to searing pain and a man talking.
“This is the best I can do for you in the time we have,” Zachary says, “First we get rid of this past day, then I have enough implant memory scrolls here to give you about 10 years of new memories and a few minor suggestions.”
“This is the best I can do.” Why does that sound so familiar?

He thinks as he sorts through the scrolls. Lannia is bleeding, and laying against a bare stone floor. It’s dark, and everything hurts. Without looking at her he says, “When I start the process I will call the cleric in. You don’t remember, but healings by these Clerics are not pleasant…”

He walks over, brushes her hair out of her face and looks deeply into her eyes, “In watching you I’ve slowly realized he’s likely done the same to all of us… All his followers.”

He takes his cloak off and covers her as he says, “I’ve reset people inside of a week and I have seen you resist for over a decade. So much of people is paper and straw, stuck together by sloppy paste and indelicate hands; they are mish-mashed toddler art projects. It’s almost a service to recreate them.”

He stares into her, “Not you. These years of seeing you fight my best enchantments have been my deepest bane and sweetest joy. I have been asked to paint over a masterpiece, and now…”

Deep shame seems to wash over him as he says, “I won’t let him do it, Lani. I won’t let him make you his woman and use that goodness we haven’t been able to stomp out as a weapon. I won’t watch him use your love to bleed you and wither you dry.”

“Do you think,” He starts to ask as a tear falls down his cheek, “Do you think I was ever good?”

He shakes his head ruefully, “No, it doesn’t matter… Are you ready to forget this place, Lani?”

She nods slowly and the world goes black. For some reason she could hear the dull thump of a heartbeat that wasn’t hers. Thump-thump.

…………………

“It’s been a decade and a half,” A drow hisses at Zachary, “Countless scrolls, countless trials and always she ends up turning on me!”

The drow has a wound in his shoulder. Zachary looks at him and points to the wound, “You should get that seen to, her aim must have been true to get past your various deflection spells.”

Zachary looks to Lannia, beaten, bloodied, and chained to a wall and says, “I can’t explain it. Especially since we got her so young. She’s an anomaly. It might be best to reset her to be a coward and send her off to be some farmer’s wife so she won’t be a nuisance.”

“She’s had innate ability since she was small,” The drow says slowly, “You were there that night… I can’t help feeling she could be my greatest disciple if she would just turn and STAY turned.”

He grips his shoulder and winces. He pulls a whip and strikes her with it to make her feel the pain. Lannia shrieks in agony. Zachary doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch as he watches. The drow wraps up the whip and looks her over. He licks his lips with a predatory smile. 

“Maybe we can use it against her,” He says, “This heart of hers…”

He smiled darkly as he said, “Make her love me. Desperately. So much so that she would die before hurting me.”

Her mind actively resists remembering the rest. Thump-thump.

………………………..

Lord Marius has been shot! There! There is the shooter! 

Lannia stands with a freshy notched arrow staring down at her lord with malice. She cries, “Spirits! Guide my arrows!”

Wisdom guides her sight and the arrow flies true, but the wretched lord Marius has many who would die for him. Today it is a young boy, barely 16, who jumps in front of the arrow. Marius grins with sick satisfaction as the youth crumbles in front of him. 

A bone-shattering pain hits her. A bolt has lodged in her thigh right down to the bone. She begins to return fire, but there are too many of them. She is beaten and gathered before her lord.

Marius takes her chin in his index finger and thumb and tilts her face up, rubbing her chin, “You again. Always you.”

Lannia’s head spins. Again? How can this be again? She’s been his loyal dog for as long as she can remember. Tears well in her eyes as she remembers all the terrible things he’s had her do over the years. She bites at his fingers but he is too quick and she misses. He back hands her across the face for the trouble.

“Get her out of my sight,” He says as he spits upon her. Thump-Thump.

…………………..

Her memory repeats this again and again. She sees herself as young as 7 trying to drive a knife into his black heart. Every time she is taken away, given new memories, trained in zen archery, and starts to train to be a shaman. She is used as an assassin, a scout, and guard, and even as a commander in Marius’s forces. Her heart does not take the corruption permanently, and she rebels. Sometimes she gets closer to killing him than others, but she never succeeds.

She is tortured ruthlessly every time. Thump-Thump.
…………………

“Lani, Little Lani,” A warm male voice coos, “Wake up child.”
But when her eyes open it is not a warm sight. Her grandfather, the shaman of her village stands over her with a distant expression holding a small dagger. He swipes at her and she leaps back. Pain rips through her bicep and her uninjured hand instinctively clamps over the rush of warm blood.

“Grampa,” She cries, “Grampa, please, what’s wrong?”

He swung again, missing her narrowly, but backing her into a corner. She pleads and cries as he slowly closes in on her. He draws his hand back and she closes her eyes, bracing for the final blow. 

Then she hears him chanting. It is a ritual she is not familiar with. She opens her eyes to see he has plunged the knife into his own gut. Blood leaks from his mouth as he says, “Forgive me, child. I am unwilled.”

He drops to his knees, “I can only do this for you.”

“Spirits of fire, come,” He coughed, “Consume me and burn my name into the great book!”

He makes a few hand gestures and erupts in flame. Within seconds he is nothing but a husk. Lannia trembles with shock, crawling forward on her hands and knees. She attempts to hold his charred corpse but it crumbles to ash in her hands. She shakes, choking on sobs of despair.

“I told you I wanted the Shaman alive,” Marius complains.

“There’s no way I could have predicted-,” Zachary starts.

“I’m not interested in your excuses,” Marius says over him with a sneer, “Dispose of the remaining vermin in this village. We’ll need to find another.”

“Did you do this?” Lannia asks without taking her eyes off her grandfather’s ashes.

“Hmmm? Do what?” Marius asks absently,” Oh that, yes, I did that, and I am about to do far worse.”

He smiled sickly. Lannia could hear him breathing. She could hear his heart beating. It pounded in her ears. The abominable noise. Thump-Thump.

She wanted it to stop. Thump-Thump.

“The spirit of the earth is my mother,” Her voice ran away without her, she was outside of herself, “My brothers are the wind and rain. My father is fire, and he is ANGRY.”



“She’s a shaman!” Zachary warned as he began chanting his enchantments. Thump-Thump.

Marius began to back away. Lannia’s body stood, and she watched it from the outside. She willed the horrible sound to stop. Thump-Thump

“Burn,” She heard herself say, “Burn into the great book and be gone from this world! Spirits take him!”
The fire danced that night, she saw the spirit of fire delight in being let loose. Marius smiled wickedly as the spirits threw themselves upon him but ultimately fizzled on his many protective enchantments. For a young girl, barely 6 years old, evoking such a powerful call to the spirits of fire was more than her body could tolerate. She collapsed in a heap and felt the world slipping away.

“Get a cleric in here,” She heard Marius say, “If she dies you die.”

Thump-Thump, Thump-Thump, Thump-Thump…

……………………..

From there back her mind is a flood of a peaceful village in the mountains, though the name seems to slide out of her grasp. They worshiped Chauntea and the spirits, particularly the elemental spirits, and called them kin. Her grandfather noticed her early talents and was preparing to teach her their ways. She would have been the youngest shaman in her village history, but that never came to pass.

[*UQT]

Lannia’s memories:

Restored almost by accident, she remembers most of her time with Marius vividly except for her last night there. There are holes in her memory. Like a tape that is written over too many times there are places that were just too damaged to recover. She remembers the faces of her family and certain scenery but cannot remember any of their names. 

Until recently she could not remember where she was from. Then she put enough scraps of memories together and with a little detective work, identified her homeland of Ruathym. 

Lannia’s homeland:

Lannia is from a small village in Rauthym on the southeastern side near the forests and most fertile part of an otherwise largely barren island. Her grandfather was the brother of Uther Jeroggean who sits at the head of the only temple on Rauthym. 

Her grandfather was small in stature for as close to barbarians as her tribe was. He often said that the vessel must sometimes diminish for the spirit to increase. He was the most powerful shaman on the island, which was a disappointment to his older brother Uther. Uther was large and imposing but struggled as a Shaman. (all forgotten realms lore seems to say he made it only to the 5th level)

Largely an island of Tempites and the followers of Umberlee, her grandfather founded a village of Chauntea worshipers in the farmlands, mostly surrounded by Tempites. He was well entrenched and out of reach to his weaker older brother, who had become a bitter rival and turned to follow Umberlee.

Her grandfather’s tribe became largely a Matriarchy. Family names were passed down female lines, as was property. ((This is not unfounded, Charokee tribes function as such)) His daughter’s romance with Lannia’s father would be a romantic tale often retold around the fires at night. They had eight children and Lannia was the youngest. She was born early and small, often called “Little Lani”. Her Grandfather took to her and recognized her connection to the spirits at an extremely early age. He singled her out to start training at the age of six. 

Unfortunately, his brother was not about to suffer the thriving Chuantea settlement a day longer. He became aware of a drow with an elite core of enchanters, building an army. Marius was an outcast, his stronghold was on a far edge of the Underdark. No one knows how he survived being shunned by his matron, but there he sat on the ragged edge; steadily building an army of brainwashed slaves. He offered Marius his very own shaman for the price of removing the village from the map. 

He gave Marius vital information on local festivals so that he would know when the village was least likely to be well-defended by neighboring tempites and he waited. When news of the bloodbath came, he smiled cruelly. Never again would he be compared to his pint-sized younger brother.

Lannia remembers the dominant religion incorrectly because she was six when she was taken. She believes her village was one of many, but worshippers of Chuantea on Rauthym are few and far between. She remembers her grandfather had a brother but does not remember meeting him. She only remembers that he sits at the head of the island’s only temple, which her grandfather refused to head.

Since she was never trained fully as a shaman she believes her spirit guide is her grandfather, whom she sees when she tries to access her guide. She completely misses his animal companion and her true guide, the turtle; avatar of love and protection.

Desperate for a teacher she is trying to figure out where she is from and find the uncle she only remembers hearing about. With Marius on her heals, she may walk right into the arms of the man who started it all; Uther Jeroggean.

Marius: 

Marius is cunning but arrogant. He collects prime slaves in person. An outcast of his race he has his enchanters “rewrite” people with mind-altering spells. He likes the idea that his followers would choose to be with him if they had the vision, so he has that written into their new personalities. Each pawn would gladly give their life for Marius. 

Marius has a primary stronghold on the edge of the Underdark, and fallback position above it. His morbid fascination with Lannia, as the one pawn that keeps turning against him, is one of torturous delight. She rejects him over and over, and he makes newer, darker stories for her in response. He will not rest until his favorite plaything is returned. 

There is a 50/50 chance he rewrote Zachary after Zachary helped Lannia escape. Otherwise he killed Zachary outright in a fit of rage. If he rewrote Zachary, Zachary may have left himself clues. He likely expected it. If Zachary lives, he may be a source for rebellion within Marius’s ranks. 

Lannia’s family:

Lannia believes her whole family and the residents of the village were killed. However, there is always the possibility of survivors. Whispers of the bloodbath were widespread. The tale as the world knows it is that her grandfather had berserker in his line, and one day he simply went mad, killing everyone, even his prized youngest grand-daughter. Tales of her potential were widespread and another bitter prick to Uther. He was thrilled to hear she was dead. 

Potential plot points:
Lannia needs a shaman teacher. She fails to recognize her own spirit guide. 

Lannia’s brother or any member of her family or village may be alive and looking for her as her body was never found.

Lots could be done with Uther or Marius. 

Lannia Tannen is currently trying to stay hidden from Marius until she is strong enough to take him out with the help of her friends and is often on the coast under the alias Lyria. 

Other Tannen siblings may or may not have survived. Lannia’s parents are certainly dead. 

Uther sits at the head of the temple until 1358 at least, whatever interaction Lannia has with him, he will have to survive for at least 5 more years.

[*UQT]

Lannia’s Family Tree
*Tamara Tannen (Grandmother, light brown hair, blue eyes, stoutly built) + Arlen Jeroggean (Grandfather wild red hair, green eyes, small build for a northman) Both Dead Uther Jeroggean (Great Uncle brown hair, green eyes, stout build, impressively tall)
*Imogen Tannen (mother – looks like Lannia, only stouter of build, wild red hair, blue eyes) + Carlin Fairbrook (father, blonde, brown eyes, stout build) Both Dead
*Eight Tannen siblings (youngest to oldest)
Lannia – 6 at the time of the massacre (red hair, blue eyes, small)
The twins (identical girls) Wioletta, Aisling – 7 (Strawberry Blonde, brown eyes, normal size for northmen, very low chance of survival, likely with Imogen and Carlin) Unknown
boy – Donnell – 9 ( Toe headed, brown eyes, normal size, mama’s boy, rarely left her side) Last living brother 
girl - Illaria– 12 ( Strawberry blonde, blue eyes, normal size, may have snuck off with sibblings to attend a neighboring festival) Unknown
girl – Phailynn – 14 ( Toe headed, brown eyes, normal size, may have snuck off to attend a neighboring festival) Unknown
boy - Ferris – (15, red hair, hazel eyes nearly brown, normal size, may have snuck off to attend a neighboring festival) Dead
Boy - Connor (16 at the time of the massacre, may have not been in town due to courtship with a girl the next town over, highest possibility of survival, Toe headed, brown eyes, normal sized) Dead

Tamara and Arlen:



Arlen knew the first time he looked at Tamara that she was the one for him. He approached in his typical boyish way. Tamara was a hard, earthy woman. She was a good head taller than Arlen and as he approached she smiled. She was intent on taking the swagger out of his step.

“You are a little bit of a man,” She said with that no-nonsense smile.

“Am I?” Arlen asked and considered, “Oh… You mean standing up.”

And so the warrior woman began to fall for the boyish charm of the strongest shaman on the isle. They had many children, their middle daughter was Imogen, Lannia’s mother. 

Imogen and Carlin:



Imogen always marched to her own drum. Even for a tribal woman she was wild. She couldn’t master the shaman ways, nor did she become a druid. She took instead to ranging the barren island and proving that even here, nature provides. She became a gifted ranger and healer, using herbs and skilled medical application instead of magic to treat the wounded and sick. Her hair was wild and red like her fathers, so she weighed it down with bones, beads and feathers. She spent so much time with the wild things that the village joked she might become one. 

She met Carlin in a ditch he drunkenly stumbled into. She rolled him over providing him water and tomato juice to chase the hangover off. When he could lift his head he looked upon the wild healer and smiled his typical woman-swooning smile. Devilishly handsome, he expected no resistance to the “thank you” kiss he tried to deliver. He was unpleasantly surprised when she punched him, landing him on his arse back in the ditch before he could land his lips on her. 

At first he pursued her because she was the only woman to turn him down. As he watched her from afar tending the animals of the forest and all the sick within a day’s walk of the village he steadily fell in love with her in earnest. Not to be played a fool by a pretty boy, Imogen had none of him. 

He said his vows to her over and over. He eventually managed to catch her in an unguarded moment and kiss her. Though this was awarded yet another fist between the eyes, it only seemed to deepen his hunger for her. Though she would not admit it for some time, she was also taken by the kiss. 

Over five years he pursued relentlessly. In that time he did not so much as look at another woman. Eventually, Imogen noticed. The fire and whirlwind of their romance once she finally yielded was well-known. Even Arlen and Tamara conceded that never were two people so in love. They were married only a few weeks after they began courting in earnest. They had 8 children, and might have had more where they not struck down in the prime of life.

Uther:

Marius lied to Uther, saying his shaman was secured and letting Uther believe he had captured Arlen. Lannia’s name was to be carved on the tree, and Uther would be intent on cutting it down before letting that happen. He drops out of the lore in 1358… Perhaps he did try to cut down the great tree and was swallowed by the enchanted grove that surrounds it for his arrogance. No one knows, as weak men of bitter ambition are not missed.

[*UQT]

Lyria… Favoured of the spirits, the spirit who walks… Only she’s not Lyria, she is Lannia Tannen, and for all she knows she is all the remains of her proud Chauntean tribe. Months ago she became Derik’s fiancé, but she still calls him her boyfriend.

A secret engagement, a happy moment forced into shadow because Marius’s existence forces her to hide. 

Bitterness sets into her very bones. She watches friends who got engaged after her get married before her and she lives life as Lyria… Just Lyria. Not Lannia, proud sole survivor, not the would be bride of Derik Ranloss; Lyria. 

A giant that somehow thought it was getting the drop on her swings at her back... As if she didn’t hear his thundering footsteps? His club meets only air as it passes through her spirit form. As she solidifies she places a hand upon him and watches him crumble at her touch of death. His clansmen take offense and converge on her. She counts them as probably one more than she can handle alone and steps into the spirit world, disappearing from their sight. She walks away, casually to find a more peaceful place to think. She leaves the giants milling and confused.

Surely she is ready. She is strong and her friends are stronger. From the time she was six to the time she was 22 she lived as anyone Marius wanted her to be. She kept her name but she was not herself. Now her 23rd name day had come and gone and she finds herself still living as anyone but Lannia Tannen. 

She felt the time was upon them. It was time to shed her disguise and be Lannia at last. To be Lannia and marry her love as Lannia. However, her pesky shaman wisdom and sense of fairness made her hesitate. If she exposed herself, it wouldn’t just be her. Marius would come and for her allies first. If he caught them alone… Death would be a kindness.

She scratches at her scalp beneath the wig and mutters. It can only be with their permission. She searches them out, one by one to garner their blessing. They will risk all with her, so it is their choice to make as well. 

Of course, with the upcoming trip to Rauthym she may be exposed regardless. The island was calling her. She sees it every night in her dreams; the spirit of her grandfather standing on its icy shores. A little while longer… Just a little while longer.