First Name: Sehlanna
Last Name: Alenuath
Appearance:
Race: Ar’tel’quessir (Sun Elf)
Age: 122
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 154
Eyes: Veridian (Lt. Green)
Hair: Golden (Inhumanly) Blonde
(Around Non-Elves) Ponytail, tightly drawn back in black mourning band.
(Around Elves) Hair let down to drape around shoulders.
Tattoo: Symbol of Shevarash on left shoulder with precious enchanted precious metal leaf, will remain vibrant as a stainglass window all her years.
Personality Profile:
Personality Traits:
(Psychological Disorders)
Xenophobic (Mild): Disapproves of cross-breeding with Non Elves, but remains civil with Half-Elves as they are victims of their parents’ “short-sighted” choice.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; Trigger: Greviously injured or deceased Elfmaidens
Sleep Apnea
Cyclothymic
Attitude:
(Around Non-Elves) Aged, Aloof, Glib storyteller
(Around Elves) Youthful, Melancholy, hesitant to smile (apprehensive about disrespect towards Elven lives lost and Shevarash’s cause), socially candid.
(In Secret) Compassionate and fully morally aware; she represses and acts counter to this when she does 'What I had to do'.
General Health: Athletic, Vibrant
Deity: Shevarash (“The General”)
Initial Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Profession: Night Hunter (Shevarashan Devotee)
Base Class & Proposed Development: Rogue/Ranger/Assassain/Woodland Stalker
Habits/Hobbies:
(Habits): When in an emotional conversation tends to flick her ponytail, willing to sacrifice Non-Elven party members she is unfamiliar with if efficient. Recalls snippets of Evermeet in fleeting dream.
(Hobbies): Either Camping or Living in civilized luxury, never less than one of the two extremes. Fashion Officianado. History Buff.
Languages: Common, Elven, Cant, Sylvan, Orc, (Applying For: Undercommon)
Weapon of Choice: Rapier
Goals: Doron Amar membership, lasting damage to Vhaerunite cause, personal development in profession.
Possible Plot Hooks: Any chance to hurt Vhaerunites lastingly, finding “Windwhisper” (Traitor Elf), partnering with old mentor Koehnal, saving an Elfmaiden from Drow slavery.
Background:
House Alenuath is a sun elf house. Unusually for sun elves, its members are typically rangers, hunters or others who spend a great deal of time alone. Although the house has a small manse in Leuthilspar, it is often unoccupied for extended periods. During this time is it cared for by Moon Elf servants. Known for the tale of Haramara's Bow: Haramara Alenuath, the founder of the house, slew the old red dragon Skarra through the eye with one shot. (1)
Sehlanna is one of those Rangers, born and enrolled among Syl'tel'quessir to learn the art of woodsman patrol abroad. She has lived a happy life with the stable support of a mother and father. Tutoring from well regarded scholars gave way to studies of the feild, having her cheerfully learn of nature while her peers in other Houses poured over tomes. But what truly led her to revel in family tradition was the freedom of it; the sights, vistas, and knowledge she was one of a group that carried a rapport.
Part of her apprenticeship under a Warden involved a two year deployment among the more dangerous territories of Faerûn; it was then she dealt with the aftermath of The Retreat from the High Forest. No one event scarred her. Her body was intact, fellow Rangers dearest friends, and the conditions were all she could ask for in the wild. But there were the bodies. Young Elfmaiden found abused and discarded, tossed from the trees, with signs they had given birth but no knowledge of them having been betrothed (2). Seeing the aftermath was like watching the optical illusion of a puzzle or mosaic; at first her mind saw the parts, pieces of people or where coppery scent of blood and ofal led to pools but it wouldn't quite...let her put it together. Not unless she stared. But she had to examine, and discern. Salty bile of her stomach wretched out that first time, and the chill night air stung needles across her face as she curled into kneel on the forest floor. Mentor's arm wrapped in comfort unasked for, sparing her pride.
At most, a young apprentice would spend a year there. If cut off from aid, or otherwise engaged maybe two. Sehlanna, compelled to avenge body after body, stayed there for fifteen years. Not bodies-women. Sisters. Vhaeraunites thought them just bodies, and that was unforgiveable. When it got to be too much she pulled a favor owed to her House here, or there - to stay in the fight. Her time, and familiarity beyond what most spent consecutively proved valueable. Families were avenged, and lied to: They could never know they now had a son, or two. It was the right thing to do.
One evening all Rangers were gathered beneath sweetly smelling pines in half-circle of an unmarked grave, there had been too many to keep count. Cooling sun descended to solemn dusk of Midwinter Night - unable to bear the sorrowful sight itself. Guardians patrolled on high in the treetops, for even here the cursed foe would not allow them rest. Koehnal, her mentor with a rapier wit and nerves of steel beside her wept and said not a word. All heads were bowed. All understood. Then one man in thier brotherhood wailed with all his might. Then two. Then another. A woman's voice keened high and ardent, flowing into the throng as though in perfect harmony. Then, looking up to cold open night she realized that cry was her own. Tasting the wind's crisp hint of sap syrup breeze on her tongue. Darkness descended on them all, colouring the forest in the black they wore themselves; just as General Shevarash had long ago. Not even the crickets dared sound as she stood with softly matted grass yielded to her boot heels digging in. *
Sehlanna had never regarded herself a pious one, and no sermons had ever been given; the flow of events was so natural, it was just taking another step forward in the morning out of bed. Natural. No conversion; somewhere through the years she had become one all along.(3)
So she refuses to smile, there is grim determination expected. Deserved. Her heart is warm as the next Quessir's, and beats as strongly. Joy at sights, at warmth, at light remains. But her brothers, and sisters whom have not been there...they cannot be asked to do, let alone know, of what has to be done. There are grim deeds done under cloak of stars by Night Hunters - and the People can sleep well, sleep at all, because they do not know about it.
(1) http://forgottenrealms.wikia.com/wiki/Alenuath
(2) Daughter of the Drow series by Elaine Cunningham
(3) "Faiths & Avatars" (2nd Edition) entry on Shevarash, Midwinter Night induction.
* "Owen Fights Death" by Ben Foster & Murray Gold http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TthQWHGCsME Tune of the Funeral.
** "Soundtrack: L Change the World, OST 15" Theme of Kinslayer. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cx6O_GlIINo
Arriving in the Sword Coast was meant to send one more Hunter into the fray. Time and again she has fought enemies of the people, and with each day grows more cunning and determined. Her first Kinslaying happened just south of town among the bandits; Syl'tel'quessir (Wood Elf) sister after sister stood against her, and when all but one remained Sehlanna sought parlay. Almost pleading, she entreated the bandit, once "Windwhisper" to abandon this life - offering all the money she had if needed. But whatever had driven the Elves to this, bid this sister foreswear against The People (Elves) as enemy. Drawing sword and signalling her partner fire Sehlanna lunged to put the shell out of its misery, but a corner was rounded and the Vyshaan was gone. (DM RabidBadger)
Misham al-Sedaj, some old Calimsham human kept trying to be of comfort on the journey out of that cave. He had been there, hadn't he? But those bodies...slain sisters, like the Vhaeraunites had left behind struck to her stomach and made her knees weak. They even smelled the same, save the salty musk those poor women always stank with. So she couldn't step around them. Her eyes stared forward out of the cave, and she stepped over them. Not looking down, and not looking back. If murder was beyond her, then she may as well quit her life now. Words spake to her ear but she did not hear them. Food reached her pallete but it had no taste. Not until she found a brother or sister in faith could she rest. If the act of slaying kin was wrong, then she would face that. **
With bitter cold night air and abrassive scent of cedar wall-logs rushing to her swelled nose she crossed into the Friendly Arms Inn to find Tyressian, a brother in faith. Then she told him everything, and Sehlanna feared the worst - but then he put hands to his shoulder and gave her the only thing that could let her go on: Approval. Her heart warmed along with damp eyes, but sight the colour of his eyes- of everything drew more clear. Now she knew she was still Ar'tel'quessir. She had murdered three Elfmaiden in that cave, but they were evil. He had said so. She was a good person.
Since then she has taken to living at the Inn of Doron Amar, and is applying for citizenship; it fondly reminds her of when she was innocent, safe, in Elven Walls with only the cares of a little girl. One vestige of a smile tucked hidden in the heart where none could see. If Shevarash fogives horrors, he could forgive happiness.
