Verrona Melandor
(a.k.a. Nessa Emberheart)
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Personal history
Entagnon told me I was robbing the cradle with my songbird being just over a century old, but she told him that he was soon for the grave with that talk. I admired her spirit. She possessed a fiery passion that belied her youthful age. Thankfully, the Goddess, in Her wisdom, had ensured my love remained in a form that couldn't act on half the things she threatened. Her rants always brought a smile to my face – like the birds at dawn, incessant yet beautiful. That's why I called her my songbird. For decades, we remained together, and it seemed our companionship would last centuries. But then came the night the dreamers awoke. Nothing good lasts forever, and that night marked the end of the only peace I fear I'll ever know.
I watched them leave the city, a solemn procession filing out of the gates. Duty bound me to my post, and I would never entrust the Blade Annghorhast to a lesser hand. The Arrogant Anghorhast was a stain on our history, and my current Truthseer lacked the necessary qualities, save for physical strength. My beloved departed with them, leaving me a cherished gift: The Songbird Locket. Though simple, it holds immense personal value to me, I use it as a focus for the latent power in the blade's divinity, and it contains the only portrait of my love.
Verrona left Llanfyll 212 years ago, with a group of elves known as "The Dreamers" to create a settlement on The Continent of Brifux where they were charged by the dark goddess to spread the faith outwards to the rest of the world, leaving The Continent of Nauquan possibly for forever without anyway to return. They landed in the druidic city of Muckward and begun their pilgrimage south until they reached a forest and a plateau that elevated them above the surrounding lands. The elves built homes, temples, and farms where they could survive off the land and created a small utopia, all gifted by the dark lady. As travels caught wind of this, they began to spread the word of Krorone Goddess of Darkness and had even managed to convert a group of moon dwarves from a magical school in the mountains called Zedsia where their intentions and faiths seemed to align. Their plans of expansion and knowledge seemed to be going perfectly until a being that appeared to be of their goddess descended to bless them for their work. All citizens came out to greet the entity, believing that Krorone herself had descended upon them to bless them for their work in expanding the faith and to guide them further...but they were deceived. This entity exhumed corruption against the town, its sickly black tendrils snaking all around, infecting all citizens that were unlucky enough to be caught in its trap. The populace scattered, being picked off one by one with some of them retreating to the safety of the forests of Yantalos, Verrona included.
"We were fools to believe it was her—to believe that Krorone had truly come to bless us. The whole town had gathered, faces upturned in reverence, hearts open to the divine. But divinity did not descend that day. No... it was something else, something vile. It exhaled corruption, its tendrils writhing through the streets, sinking into stone and flesh alike. Screams filled the air as people clawed at their own bodies, the black sickness taking hold faster than any plague.
And then I saw him. The Blade Dayar stood between us and the wretched thing, blade in hand, unwavering and shining with the hopes of our people. A true guardian of the faith, a warrior of unshakable resolve. He cut down the tendrils as they came, shielding those who still had the chance to flee. But even he was not enough. I watched the darkness take him, wrapping around his form like a noose, dragging him into oblivion and the blade along with our hopes...shattered. He did not scream. He did not beg. He simply fought until his body could move no more.
I should have stayed. I should have helped. But my feet carried me away, away from the choking stench of rot, away from the cries of the dying. I turned my head once—only once—to see him fall, to commit his final stand to memory. Then I ran. Into the depths of Yantalos, into the unknown, carrying the weight of my survival like a curse I would never outrun."
Years passed while Verrona and the remaining faction of moon elves remained hidden in the forest, trying to make sense of what had happened. Eventually, she began leaving the forest, seeking answers throughout the lands. The stain that the wood elves had placed on the continent with the wars and their isolation did not help her cause. She did not find very many that could or would help her obtain any answers and eventually, she became more of a survivalist in all of this and set up small shops outside of cities and towns to sell potions and share knowledge to anyone that passed by until one day she ran across a group and the son of the blade Dayar. He didn't recognize her and seemed bewildered that she just looked like him. She knew him to be corrupt with the darkness that had befallen them, but he didn't seem corrupt. Perhaps this curse had went dormant thinking that the battle had been won and there was no one to fight back. After the group departed, she prayed, utilizing every tool that she had at her disposal to ignite the flame of the dark lady once more to help guide the misguided child of hope out of the hellscape he was in and back into her loving embrace.
And so, she did. The son of Dayar repelled the curse inside of him, battling it and destroying it to awaken the truth of his nature, his history and his past. Verrona was sent on her own quest back to Yantalos to retrieve a stringless bow, a request directly from the goddess Krorone and told her to prepare for the battle ahead. Verrona returned to Yantalos find that some of those cursed in the beginning had come with the group of survivors. Their corruption had been dormant, waiting for something and the time had come. Try as she might, she did not have the strength to fend off the invaders of these lands and just when all hope was lost, a curious creature that she had seen from time to time seemed to pause the world for everyone else but her and spoke to her asking if she needed assistance. This extension of grace was not free mind you, but the price had yet to be determined. And thus a deal was formed between her and the Arch Fey and the remaining survivors had been ferried off into the feywild while a warrior of the fey had come in and was slowly starting to pick off the corrupted creatures one-by-one before the group with the son of Dayar arrived. Dispatching one of the entities generals there, the group spoke to Verrona. She passed the weapon she had been requested to gather to the son of Dayar, fearing that this would be the last time she would see a glimmer of the blade of hope, she offered him to sire children with her. The young elf did not hestiate and as the group left, she could already feel the new life, the new generation of her people growing inside of her womb.
Months later she received word that the group had defeated the entity that had plagued them centuries ago and the son of Dayar returned back with the child Nebnuss Smenklie who began to rule over the city of Trosall. They discussed what had been uncovered and to an unlikely recipient they found that the Star Smith, one of the oldest, wisest, and mysterious patrons of the faith had been fragmented, but found in souls across the lands. Two had been found. Verrona was again tasked by the goddess to find the remaining three. During this time, the first child was born: Sylric, a boy. Her and the son of Dayar began their charge, spreading the faith even more across the lands, opening up the eyes of the masses to the deception that they had endured all while seeking out the remaining soul fragments of the star smith. Utilizing the resources of Trosall, almost 10 years went by before they had collected the other three fragments. During this time, another child was born, a girl named Tahlira. At last the fragments had been found and immediately she was contacted by none other than The Moon Keeper, where an exchange happened. It took countless sendings and planning, but the goddess had spoken to the Moon Keeper, informing her of the work that was being done and that the faith that seemed to had grown stagnant and lost, could be made whole once again. So, Verrona, Dothronk, and the five star smith soul fragments journeyed towards the continent and to the court of stars where the exchange will occur and all will be revealed of what happened so many years ago.
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