Roving wayfarer, lone wanderer, skilled survivalist, scouting and surveying extraordinaire! No distance too far, and no danger too great! Speak to Al at the Greedy Goat Inn for more details!

Early Life

Thelandril "The Wayfarer" Inglòrion-Krul was born in the fall of 1765 to his parents, Çerysandril Inglòrion, an elven ranger and cartographer, and Grun'drilda Krul, a orc druidess and healer. Both were devout worshipers of Avandrus, and were fairly well-known and respected along the route between Ecrin and Ros'Nail, as Çerysandril's services were frequently requested by travelers making their way east to Alverton, and he had been a ranger and scout of some renown in the years before settling down.

Within the first few years of his life, Thelandril's parents both instilled in him a strong respect for the balance of nature and the natural order, as he played in the woods surrounding their homestead just north of the Ecrin Road. He would play games with woodland creatures his mother would task with babysitting him, while she went about the daily chores of running a homestead, during the times Çerysandril was away guiding travelers or scouting for some clients.

As Thelandril grew older, he longed to meet other people, as he was never allowed to go travelling with his father, and his mother never left the farm except to go into the woods to forage and commune with nature, or rarely when their neighbor homesteads had dire need of a healer quickly. Even then, their neighbors were hours away, and for the most part, Thelandril grew up as a roving, lonely youth, finding comfort in nature, but at the same time feeling that something was missing. The rare times his father was home, the two of them would make surveying expeditions into the nearby woods and hills surrounding their home, scouting, tracking, and practicing survival skills, sometimes roving as far north as the Yarbalt Heights or the Langmorne Mountains.

Coming of Age

In the winter of his 14th year, not long after the winter solstice, there came the extremely rare knock on the door, which usually only signified that a neighbor had dire need of help. As his father answered the door, sure enough he was met with the grim troubled look of a human woman. As she fell into the house from the cold, she told a story of their homestead being attacked by bandits, and though her husband fought them off and the bandits retreated, her husband had been grievously injured. She had snuck away from the shuttered-up cabin and made her way here, and now begged them to come heal her husband and help eliminate the bandits.

Jumping to action, Thelandril's parents grabbed up their weapons and gear, and followed the woman out into the night, telling Thelandril that they shouldn't be gone more than a day, and tasking him with watching over their own homestead. The next day came and went, and then the night, with no sign of his parents. Waiting for the next day, by nightfall Thelandril had become worried that his parents may need help, and chose to disobey them. Grabbing his duelling dagger, and cloak, he stole out into the night, heading for the general direction he knew the neighbor's homestead lay in.

Finally finding it in the early hours before dawn, it was not hard to miss as he neared it, the bright orange flames of the burning cabin streaking the trees with a reddish light. Creeping forwards, he began to make out the shapes of 4 bodies in the snow in front of the cabin. Resisting the overwhelming urge to rush forwards, he waited, looking for signs of movement, before he slowly stole his way towards the bodies.

Getting close enough to recognize them, he rushed forwards to the bodies of his parents, laying next to each other where they had obviously fought side by side to the end. Stunned, he froze for a moment, his mind totally overwhelmed with the shock and grief, before suddenly snapping out of it and frantically searching the snow around the bodies, noticing his father's masterwork bow, handed down from first-born to first-born for generations in his family, was missing. Not finding the bow, he verifies the other two bodies are indeed dead, before recovering his mother's amulet, and closing both their eyes. The amulet was her token of Avandrus, a piece of oak root carved into the image of a stag, with tiny emeralds inset for eyes.

Placing the amulet around his neck, his vision blanks, and he sees his own homestead aflame, all his family's possessions scattered around the yard outside in the snow, as a sallow-faced elf, a gruff dwarf, and a brutish human go through them, and seem to be setting up a camp for the night. A voice that sounds both like the whisper of leaves and the burble of a babbling brook speaks in his mind, "There is a grave imbalance in the natural order of this region. Go, recover what is rightfully yours, and prove yourself. When the powers of destruction grow, they must be met with destruction. That is the natural order. You have my protection if you trust in yourself, your mother's last wish. Now run, time is of the essence!"

Snapping out of his presentient vision, and amazed at how he'd somehow passed the bandits but never crossed paths with them on the way here, he raced as he never had before, flying back to his home. As he neared it, he slowed, and began stealthily creeping his way near the yard. With his keen eyes, he spied the bandits in the light of the burning building, surrounding a small campfire and cooking some food. The elf and the human were awake and obviously drunk, and the dwarf was snoring raucously. Slowly creeping forwards, while staying in the shadows, he watched the two boast about killing his parents and their neighbors, before the elf declared loudly he needed to take a piss and wandering off. As he did so, the human threw some more sausages on the makeshift grill, and began to loudly sing an old marching song, the dwarf seemingly undisturbed.

Seeing an opportunity, Thelandril crept close behind the elf, and waited until he could hear the sound of piss hitting the ground before striking, his dueling dagger plunging into the elf's neck with a spray of blood splashing Thelandril's face. The sounds of the elf's gurgling last gasps were drowned out by the off-key singing of the drunk human. Taking the whip off the belt of the dead elf, he crept back towards the drunk singing human, and began looking for another opportunity, crouching in the shadows just beyond the treeline.

After about half an hour had passed, the human seemingly finished burning his charred sausages, and began noisily eating them. Meanwhile, Thelandril finally spied his father's bow, laying near the sleeping dwarf, but having no cover across the 60 or so feet from the treeline to their small encampment in the yard, he could only creep within the treeline as close as he could to the dwarf and wait. Finally, after another half an hour or so, the human seemed to stand and finally notice the continued absence of the elf. Grumbling, he set off in the direction the elf had left in.

Taking the opportunity, Thelandril dashed forwards to the dwarf, keeping as silent as possible, before practically diving into the sleeping dwarf's exposed throat. As though guided by some unseen force, his dagger struck exactly where it needed to, severing the dwarf's windpipe in a fountain of blood. Yanking the dagger free with a savage twist, he quickly spun around and retrieved his father's bow and quiver, before nocking an arrow as the human came dashing back into the light of the burning homestead. As the human paused to shout and drunkenly tried to draw his sword, Thelandril let his arrow fly, the arrow embedding itself cleanly in the forehead of the human before he could even draw his weapon.

Falling to his knees, Thelandril was overtaken by another vision, this time of himself, much older, picking his way through the woods with a party of various travelers, towards the apparent ruins of some city, now overgrown with vegetation.

The voice from before yet again spoke, whispering in his mind, "Good, you have proven yourself a self-reliant and ruthless hunter, a true survivor. You have passed your test and proven yourself. I, Arvandus, set this task before you as I did both your parents. Go forth, and prevent this kind of thing from happening again to those who respect the natural order. Those who live in harmony with the natural order maintain the balance, those who disrupt it must be culled, whether man or monster. Nature always looks for balance, and is not death the great equalizer? You shall be one of my huntsmen, and bring balance to the world where it is disrupted. When you meet these travelers, their path will lead to mine."

The vision faded, as Thelandril grimly rose from his knees, his face and hands painted in blood, as he began gathering up what few valuables he now had left into a backpack, including his father's cartography supplies and map case, before making his way back to his parents' bodies to give them and their neighbors a proper burial.

Adult Life

Over the following 13 years, Thelandril never stopped traveling, either guiding travelers through the wilds, hunting down beasts or men chosen for culling by Avandrus, or just wandering the woods of the world, scouting and surveying as he used to do with his father. He mostly avoided centers of urban civilization, except to stock up on certain essentials or take on new scouting or guiding services.

People both intrigued Thelandril, and disheartened him, as he was regularly disparaged or discriminated against for his half-orcish heritage, despite the kindness and fairness of his heart. The navigation of social norms and customary etiquette was something that he knew little about, but was quick to pick them up when exposed to them. As his reputation as a reliable scout and guide grew, he grew to have some acquaintances among tavern and innkeepers, and general store owners, both eager to have good trustworthy scouts and guides to recommend to their clientele.

Eventually, the day came to pass where a strange group of travelers approached him, asking for a scout to help them track down the location of an old ruined town rumored to be nearby. Immediately recognizing them as the travelers who he saw in his vision so many years ago, he readily agreed, and has since spent the past months traveling with the group and tracking down old minor ruins with them.

Age

27

Date of Birth

Fall of 1765

Gender

male

Eyes

Blue

Hair

Brown

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Light bluish-green

Height

6'2"

Weight

145lbs