Sarilis
(a.k.a. Sarilis)
Sarilis Freveler of Bor
(sar'-ih-lihs fre'-veh-ler), , is a mixed Noiri - Paxian Human born in Bor, the second oldest settlement of the four within the largest Human city of Augran. He is a crafty and wizened death mage who has survived into his seventies. Presently, Sarilis lives as a hermit far from his place of birth, in a remote, abandoned Dwarven fortress within the Western Lonely Ones mountain range.
Sarilis appears as an elderly man in decline, with pale blue eyes, age-spotted skin, and grey hair kept tied back. He never grew much of a beard while younger and cannot grow one at all now. He is under-weight for his average height, which is further reduced by a hunch as his spine has curved such that he can’t stand straight anymore.
He wears several layers of simple robes, favoring his dark blue one to be on the outside, and multiple layers of stockings thick enough at times that his feet can’t fit into his old boots. This hasn’t been a problem in the last five years, since he accepted Gavin as his apprentice. Sarilis has rarely needed to leave the well-constructed Dwarven stone floors of his Ley Tower for the mud and wilderness outside.
Background
Sarilis was one of sixteen children born to his parents in an overcrowded quarter of Bor through which none of the caravans or regular traders passed. Few who lived along the old, broken streets were literate or maintained skilled professions. Living was made hand-to-mouth, either walking long distances to work on the river docks, begging or propositioning in wealthier parts of Augran, or finding odd jobs on the borders with their neighbors.
Sarilis as a child had always claimed to “see things at night,” though this mostly scared his family and neighbors to the point of threatening to call the Witch Hunters of Manalar to come get him if he didn’t stop lying. He learned quickly to lie with a straight face, though he continued to see and hear the ghosts of those who died regularly in the poor quarter of Bor before they went “someplace else.”
When Sarilis was eleven, a plague rose and swept through the quarter, killing over half of the residents over the harsh winter they were forcibly held in quarantine from the rest of Bor. With most of his blood family gone or scattered, young Sarilis began to visit the dying, imagining that he was drawing the last stubborn strength from them so their spirits could finally let go of their body and move on. In return, he could live in his for a little longer.
After all, they didn’t need that last bit of life more than he did, right?
Current
Sarilis’s charisma and cunning earned him an education of a sort over four decades, working for various wealthy men across Paxia and around the Great Lake, all of whom held a fascination with death. Under multiple patrons, he learned to read and write and could work as a scribe, a storyteller, as well as a butcher. Over time, he gained some practical knowledge of a chirurgeon though lacked any empathy with his patients.
Wherever he came to be known, it was usually as a wily gossip, crafter of oddities from animals, and servicer of the dead and dying among the criminal or outcasts of any community. While very careful about claiming to have eyes to see spirits or actual magic to summon the dead among various wealthy family members, Sarilis was always able to find that soft and frightened spot in any fellow mortal awaiting their own death, convincing them to tolerate his proximity long enough to give them answers they craved.
In his early forties, Sarilis would find Micel Briar of Tolrun Ridge, who not only had a fascination with death but also had a powerful morbid appetite to feed in private spaces around his lands. The prominent landowner would become Sarilis’s “patron” supporting any scholarly pursuit he wished to chase for more than a decade, and for a time, the aging death mage wondered if he might die at Tolrun Ridge, if Micel's sons were as tolerant of his interests and skills.
Sarilis would change his mind, however, upon meeting Brom Troshin while accompanying his lord on a longer trip to Port Fortnight. His private, late-night conversation with the governor-proprietor of the only inn at Troshin's Bend would awaken his own soft and hungry spot within him, as his lifelong understanding of mortality was turned on its head.
“You are much older than you appear,” Sarilis rasped with envy, looking over the stronger man in his prime.
“I am, yes.”
“How did you accomplish this, sorcerer?” he hissed. “Tell me!”
“I found a tower in the western mountains, where the Ley Lines cross. An abandoned fortress built by Dwarves. There was a… a being there, beautiful and immortal.”
“Who was it?”
Brom didn’t answer at first, but then he blinked, coming out of a distant memory to peer at the death mage slowly wasting away in front of him. “This being was powerful enough to grant me a quest for my own immortality. I had to fulfill it, nothing was given to me. But, once our bargain was struck, he gave me guidance when most needed.”
Sarilis nodded earnestly. “Where do I find this tower?”
“I will give you a map. But you must keep it secret. Even from your Lord.”
Something Extra
Patreon exclusive content: Added secrets or insights about the Character. May include adult themes.3025 S.E., Bor,
Second City of Augran, Paxia Affiliations
The Ley Tower,
Western Lonely Ones
Lord Micel Briar of Tolrun Ridge
(former patron of scholarship),
Midway Mountains
unnamed
Siblings
unnamed
Mates
None
Children
None (sterile)
