An elven Druid-Ranger and Natural Lycanthrope
31 Armor class
Silvered Scimitar: +11: 1d6: 18-20/X2
Walking Balista: +8: 3d8: 19-20/X2
Pet: Amethyst (Large Wolf)
Hp:18 AC: 17 Bight+7: 1d8+5
“I’m neutral dammit, I can burn the village to the ground, and then help the newly homeless find jobs. It doesn’t change my friggin’ alignment, no matter what I do.”
Amythyst used to be small and lazy, but she was enchanted by a giant tree (idk either) to be more lively. This also resulted in her being bigger than I am. Also, one of the tree’s servants enchanted my balista to walk so I could bring it with me. WOOT! Best campaign ever! …also, my pet wolf is a snake now. I should fix that.
…Alright, me sounds like a cruel man: werewolf; murderer; extortionist. However, very little was ever told about how Enialis came to be.
Four centuries ago, a young elf of less than fifty years sat alone in his hut awaiting his father’s return from a nearby village of savages. That young elvish boy’s name was Enialis, but his last name was Dariuma: not yet Amakiir. The Dariuma were a clan already had a tragic past. They were cursed with hereditary lycanthropy by a rival clan and were no longer welcome among other elf clans. They were exiled to thickets and bogs far from other elven settlements. Even so, they were untouched by evil and were often called upon by the nearby human settlements for their knowledge in herbs and medicine and thus were they allowed to live.
This particular day, Enialis’s father did not come. He and his mother waited all day and all night, yet by dawn’s first light it was not his father that came to their hut, but a goblin messenger cam. He told the clan that Enialis’s father was taken hostage to learn the clan’s healing secrets, yet he would not speak and he was butchered for his insolence. Enialis could not contain himself for his grief and threw himself at the horrid harbinger, stabbing him in the eye with a hunting knife. Soon more goblins came to see what had become of their man. They became enraged and called for the blood of the Dariuma. The clan was to be extinct at sundown.
They called favors and bribed nearby towns, but noone would aide them. In the end, they enlisted the help of some passing savages. At sundown the men took positions around the camp, but when the goblins neared they turned on the elves, took the clan’s money, and fled. Enialis and his family ran, but arrows rained down and took all but him.
Shaken by his loss and wounded he wandered for days. As fate would have it he came upon the very men that had deserted him. He saw them drinking and gambling in their camp by the wood. Rage boiled his young blood at the thought of those men living off the blood money that should have kept his family alive. Fur coated him and his teeth became fangs. He burst into the camp and grabbed a torch. He set tents afire and knocked over a wagons. The men leaped to their feet and chased after him not seeing him as a boy but as a beast. He ran into the forest. He was fast, but the men cornered him against a hill side. They drew closer to cut his throat just as a pack of wolves came to the top of the hill. They snarled and attacked the men, thinking they were attacking one of their own young, and thus the men were slain.
Enialis reveled in the ferocious, unforgiving justice of nature. He devoted himself to the laws of nature and swore that never again would he allow himself to be forsaken so easily. This is why he is cruel and bloodthirsty; why he cannot stand to abide the laws of man. Nature has been his only source of justice.
He changed his last name to Amakiir to be welcome among other elves and to escape the goblins’ wrath. It was only then that he found himself a master to teach him the ways of druids. This is the tale of how Enialis Amakiir came to be.