Draxthious

(Draxthious,Day of Birth)

A sharp cry pierced the night. Two of the three companions glanced at each other. Years of working together had made verbal communication redundant in most cases. With that one look they both knew the other shared the same thought. The third companion wasn't going to make the temple outside of town.

A relatively simple mission for the experienced Pathfinder group had somehow gone very badly about three months ago. Talvor, the group's half elf leader, along with Crantz the human thief and Arrelia their aasimer bard, were to investigate rumors that the temple to the demon lord Nocticula was being used as a main hub for smuggling relics and artifacts from Andoran to Cheliax.

The temple is normally disguised as a brothel. Disguising themselves as bored explorers looking to partake of the brothel's services, they hoped to make connections within the temple. However that plan ended about a week into it. Arrelia failed to make a regularly scheduled check in. It took Talvor and Crantz a month to find out what had happened. Arrelia was being kept in the farthest reaches of the temple as a personal slave of a demon lord. They never did find out which one.

After that the two remaining friends quickly went from investigate mode to rescue. Unfortunately it took them another two months to finally succeed. They found her chained to a lavish bed wearing the finest silk nightgown. They also found her apparently nine months pregnant and almost ready to deliver.

Which is how the three found themselves out in a driving thunderstorm in the middle of the night desperately seeking shelter. Arrelia was not doing good and for some reason she was getting warmer and warmer. By now her skin was almost too hot too touch.

"The gates will be closed. We'd never get close anyway, not with Arry here screaming like she is." Crantz stated. The harshness of his tone offset by the worry in his eyes.

Talvor looked around, quickly taking in their surroundings. "Iomedae." Crantz glanced at his friend inquisitively. “It’s inside the city walls and their priests should help us protect her from Nocticula’s allies.” Talvor continued. Nodding, Crantz turned and the two hurried through the rain.

Once at the temple, the three were admitted quickly and ushered into a warm dry room so Arrelia could give birth. By now her skin was red and she was sweating profusely. The head priest, a staunch and strict man named ‘Lawbinder’ talked with the two Pathfinder’s while others tended to the needs of a pregnant woman.

“You say you rescued her from the temple of that demon lord yes?” He shook his head sadly, “I’ve seen it too many times, young women ushered in for whatever purpose those heathens decree.” Lawbinder’s face grimaces as he continues, “Unfortunately it is perfectly legal here. Our Lady decrees that the laws shall be followed.”

Talvor grabs his friend’s arm as understanding dawns on him, “Wait, you’re going to give her back to them?!”

The elder priest turns his head to look at the two, “We must follow the law. Adherence to the laws is what separates us from animals. From baser creatures who know not what true civilization is. So yes, once the child is born, she will be returned.”

Crantz, his hand on a dagger was about to explode in anger, though his mouth opened to speak, his eyes shown with a desire to use that dagger instead. However it was then that one of the under priestesses burst into the room, “Forgive me Lawbinder, but….the child, it is coming and something’s wrong.”

The two Pathfinders and the priest rushed into the room. Arrelia, grimacing in pain looked up to them as they entered and forced a smile, “Talvor my friend, my love. Please”, she exclaimed, placing both hands on the sides of her stomach. “Protect my child…..no matter how he was conceived, he is innocent. Please.” As she uttered that last word, pain wracked through her body. She screamed, a scream of eternal suffering, as suddenly her entire body burst into flame.

The fire was hot, bright, and pure blue. Arrelia’s body didn’t last long in that blaze. As the fire died down, a sharp cry broke the stunned silence. The cry of a newborn baby. There, in the middle of the dying flames, lay a caucasian skinned baby with sparse black hair, two horns on his head just starting to curl, and a long tail with just the barest hint of hair at it’s tip.

Crantz had dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face. Talvor, himself crying, started to step forward. Arrelia had asked him to care for the child and by Erestil, he would do just that. However Lawbinder extended an arm, blocking his path. Before Talvor could speak, the priest hissed out, “Leave! You did not tell me, either from neglect or lack of knowledge, that the father was a demon lord.” The priests’ angry eyes turned toward Talvor, “I will honor her wish, I will protect the child.” Spittle flew from Lawbinder’s lips as his fervor increased, “BUT I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS HALF BREED MUTT OUT INTO THE STREETS!”

Talvor pushed aside the priest’s arm, but before he could say anything ten armed guards entered the room. Lawbinder turned from the two grieving friends, “Throw them out into the streets along with whatever this thing’s mother left behind.” He then addressed a young female priests, the one who had first informed them of the onset of childbirth, “Clean it up and see to it’s crying.” The elder priest exited the room as Talvor and Crantz were thrown from the building.

(Draxthious, An Incident)

Ten years had passed since he was born. At first he seemed to age normally, however his growth seems to have slowed down in the past couple years. Today Draxthious found himself again standing before the Lawbinder of the temple.
“Why!?” the young teifling yelled back at the elder priest, “They needed help, why can’t I help them?” A dark bruising circle covered one of the boy’s yellow cat like eyes. His dark hair had grown in long and rich, both on his head and at the tip of his tail. His horns had stopped growing on their own a few years ago forming two slight backwards curving arches sticking up from his forehead.

The temple head, anger tinging his words, yelled back, “The girl was a slave! It is her master’s right to beat her and her brother if he so chose. It is the law and the law must be upheld at all times!”

Draxthious spat back, “What good is the law if it prevents us from doing what is right?”

His answer was a sharp backhand from the priest which sent the young boy sprawling onto the floor, “Never speak such blasphemies again! The law and our adherence to it is what seperates us from animals and lesser beings! Your refusal to see this shows the influence of your father.” As Lawbinder spoke that last word, he spit on the floor in disgust. “I shall have to teach you again what it means to allow his influence to guide you instead of mine.”

The priest took the best from around his waist. Draxthious’ screams echoed till morning.

(Draxthious, A Meeting)

Ten more years had passed and the young man had his aging slowed even more. Physiologically speaking he was now closer to fourteen then the twenty years he had been around. He was taller, stronger. His black hair now reached his shoulder blades easily and his tail was long enough to circle his waist, appearing as a belt with a strange tuft of hair hanging on his side. His cat like eyes now shone with a bright and curious intellect while his body never seem to catch illness. More suprisingly however was the ability he discovered a year ago. He could project fire from his body.

Unlike wizards who must memorize formula’s to create flame or sorcerers who can do so at will but only for a limited time, his ability seemed to be both natural and magical. He could create it at will as many times a day as he wanted. However he also discovered when he pushed the ability too far he became fatigued, exhausted even and would require a full nights rest before he felt better again.

Today the teifling was out in the temple of Iomedae’s garden, having been placed on weeding detail for “accidently” setting a slave merchant’s wagon on fire. He was finishing the back section near the carrots when a familiar voice reached his pointed ears.

“In trouble again Drax?” said the man’s voice, filled with wry amusement.

Draxthious grinned as he spun around, “Uncle Tal!”
The aging Pathfinder stood there grinning. Twenty years had not been kind to the half elf. Though he was still hale and healthy, he bore the scars of many adventures, both physical and mental. His hair was now more grey than blonde though his eyes still held the spark of life they did for all his long hundred and twenty years.

Drax quickly embraced the his old mentor and friend. The two had been meeting in secret for years, after Talvor had been refused entrance to see the boy. Lawbinder feared that Talvor’s influence would corrupt the morals he was attempting to instill in Draxthious.

Talvor stepped back from the embrace and looked down at the half blood. “You’ve grown again my boy.” The smile on the elder’s face lessened slightly. “You do remind me of your mother.”

Draxthious smiled, “Uncle Tal, you say that every time you come.” The boy chuckled lightly, “Are you going to tell me another tale of you and mom’s adventures with the Pathfinders?”

His smile again widening, Talvor assumed a mock hurt expression, “What? Is that all I am to you? A story teller? A weaver of fantastical tales of great deeds and heroic acts?”

Draxthious again grinned at his mentor and friend, “Yup.”

Talvor laughed, “Very well then, how about I regale you with a tale of daring in which your mother and I, along with Uncle Crantz, sought a powerful artifact within a lich’s tomb?”

The teifling leaned forward, already invested into the story as Talvor began his tale.


(Draxthious, A Departure)

The rain was falling heavily as lightning flashed across the sky. Ten more years, thirty in all, had passed since Draxthious was born. Now the equivalent of an eighteen to twenty year old, Drax had decided it was time to leave the temple that had been his home, his prison, for all his life. Lawbinder was dead. So to was Uncle Talvor. The two had died in an argument that escalated a week ago. Draxthious could only watch as they were killed by town guards for fighting in the middle of the street.

The funeral for Lawbinder was lavish, with flowers and traditional music. For Talvor however there was only rain and Draxthious himself to dig the hole. Now, on his thirtieth birthday, Drax thought back to Talvor’s last words to him. “Leave this place. Go southeast, into Andoran. It is a more tolerant country. Learn of the world outside this temple, indeed outside of Isgar. When you are ready, give this,” here Talvor handed him an old wayfinder, a tool of the Pathfinder’s, “to the door guard of the Grand Lodge in Absolam.” Talvor smiled warmly, “You will make a fine Pathfinder, you will make your mother as proud of you as I am, I can feel it.”

As the rain continued to pour, the teifling lept from the walls of the temple and headed south. He would meet up with a caravan heading into Andoran. It had taken every last bit of coin he had saved up until now to secure passage out of the city, much less the country but he considered it worth it.

A short time later, huddled in the back of an uncovered wagon, the clothes on his back his only possessions, the caravan started out. Draxthious peared out from beneath the hooded cloak, his yellow eyes taking in everything. The first day of the rest of his life indeed.


(Draxthious, Grand Lodge)

Draxthious stood at the bottom of the stairs to the Pathfinder Grand Lodge. He had been wandering around Andoran for the past twenty two years and was now an old man of fifty two. Though physiologicly speaking he was closer to twenty two than anything else. Still, he had learned a lot in his time wandering the country.

In general it was a more tolerant place however many biases still exist between what he calls normals and those of demon blood. Actions do not always speak louder than words however vice versa words do not always trump actions. It was true that people no longer beat him just for making a mistake, though they still, in many cases, mocked him either openly or behind his back for every little thing. Minor slights were often met with either disdain or violence and quite often he was forced to fight.

Not all places or people were like that however. He found a few he would have considered friends if he were not compelled to move on from place to place, fullfilling his promise to Talvor. He would see this world, this country and then he would present himself before the Grand Lodge.

Still, he couldn’t believe it was indeed that time. Butterflies danced tango’s in his stomach as he ascended the steps. Standing before the door he paused in the act of reaching for the heavy knocker. The tall teifliing stepped back. Raising his hands, he lowered the hood on his cloak.

He stood there, proud of his heritage, his long black hair flowing to his shoulders. His horns, curving back from his forehead drew attention away from his yellow cat like eyes. His confident smile, more of a smirk really, did not hide his slightly larger than normal incisors. His tail, long and sinewy, with a large tuft of black hair at it’s tip, wavered gently behind him. In his had he held the old wayfinder, a gift from Talvor. With echoing bangs, Draxthious rapped the knocker against the door once, twice, three times. Now all he had to do was wait for admittance and to pass the tests. However he would do it as himself, proud of both his demonic and partial celestial heritage.