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*Notes: One of many characters, events, and profiles I created a decade for an Alternate timeline Forgotten Realms Campaign. I'll post more if you find this one to your liking. Please enjoy! The year 1385, Alban Arthan, the winter solstice. The tall pines were decorated with red and green ribbons this day as it was every winter solstice. bayberry candles were lit amongst the villages and could be seen dotting the roads. It was a holy day and the harvest had been especially generous this year. All was well in Shadowdale, Home to a one Jayne Laslo. The Laslo family owned one of the larger farms in this community. 100 acres of maize and plentiful fields of grapes, and berries. The Laslos very likely supplied a majority of the inns along the main road in the Dalelands. Jayne’s father, Robert was proud of his son. Jayne worked diligently in the fields, and took pride in his handiwork, meanwhile training with various men at arms and adventurers who stayed in the Lofty Dragon Inn to find adventure in the many ancient ruins that surrounded the countryside in Shadowdale. Robert had raised his son with his second wife Angelica, as Mildred, his first wife had died shortly after giving birth to Jayne. Jayne’s father had given up his adventuring days over a decade ago and worked the fields with his now 17-year-old son. Angelica was a kind and beautiful woman who treated her two men with care and much love. Jayne enjoyed the many sword duels with those he trained with, as he imagined in his mind what his father Robert’s adventuring days were like. He was confident the sage had picked him, not only because he was a childhood friend of Vatalonie but because he had gotten quite skilled with the blade. He remembered the days when his father had carved a wooden sword for him on a birthday and the two would spend the day together half playing and the half practising well into the evenings. “Yar, young seadog, Dread pirate Robert comes for ye! “ his father would shout in a deep throaty voice. Good memories... Vatalonie was so serious, so emotional sometimes but always his presence kept her calm... It was obvious to him there was something.. a spark within her..something different. There was an undeniable connection between them... There were not of the same blood but still, they were close even though they were complete opposites. The day finally came when it was time for Jayne and Talon were to travel to the Academia in Arabel. There were fond farewells that day. Prior to them mounting their horses and heading towards the port, Robert opened an old wooden chest with a crest of two crossed curved swords. Jayne watched as his father removed what looked like sailor’s clothes, an old tattered black cape, a red and black scarf, and then finally a slightly curved sword, it’s hilt a polished steel bound with a bit of leather all the way down to the pommel. “You remind me of when I started adventuring, my son. Take my old sword and this scarf, may Tymora bring you much luck in your journeys and most importantly, much LOOT!” His father smiled and chuckled. Jayne laughed and hugged him. He would miss his family... Jayne woke before the sun rose and watched the illumination hit the surface of the ivory tower. He sighed and then started preparing for the morning meal.. a bit of bacon, carefully sliced chunks of venison, added to the meaty broth heated with a pinch of garlic, salt, and chives... This new form it had taken felt out of place and uncomfortable but surprisingly bland. Being Absolutely anonymous was a necessity so it would have to do for now. The buildings were tall to this new form but his vision and sense of smell were vastly heightened. The people in the marketplace didn’t notice it at all. It grinned but it was sure no one actually saw it. It’s brown and black fur was warm in the sunlight. Its new master was powerful beyond imagining. One moment, torment in the deepest abyss of the hells and next moment, freed from the clutches of a demon lord who stood over 8 feet tall and had the largest flail in its hand. Three vicious looking spiked obsidian coloured pieces. A deep black satin hood covered the being’s face and its hands wore gloves red as blood. Were those claws at the tips? Far as Iskkari could tell, it was a man but even with its sight, it could not see beyond the hood... One thing did stand out with this new master. The sword sheathed at its side. Thin, almost like a rapier but it’s hilt flailed out into what formed a jagged crown of sorts... The metal of it was dull and dark as coal. Iskkari shrank away from the blade more so then it’s owner. It felt a hollow shrill voice inside its mind. Instructions, concise and lengthy... Then a flash of darkness, and it stood in what looked to be an alleyway. The evening air was warm, and flooding with the scent of sustenance. Delicious aroma of flesh. It knew it would have to accomplish the tasks given to it, as this new master had placed a geas on it... To fail would be to die. But it hungered. It would need to nourish first. No one saw it as it tore into the small creature’s flesh. It was a nimble thing but not as quick as it. It didn’t satisfy Iskkari’s hunger completely but it would have to do for now... It did not want to be detected. It’s form twisted slowly into its victim’s shape. It smiled wickedly. This body would do well... It heard a small child’s voice in the distance... “Mr Muttons!? Where are you, kitty? “ “Where in the world are you Mr Muttons?” Iskkari meowed and smiled broadly. He would satiate his hunger soon.