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Grayn

I am a dead man. My name is Grayn Tithrawyn, and I am marked. You know my name now--perhaps you too are marked. My druidic brothers fear association with me. Worse, as I walk I risk upsetting the balances. Worse yet, for myself at least, my enemies are many, strong, and fearsome.

Description Height: 6' Hair: sun-lightened blonde, hiding a streak of white. The recently gained shock of white balances the previous one, and Grayn will occasionally entwine them in braids to keep them our of his face when fighting Eyes: grey Race: human, tanned skin Age: 23 Grayn is withdrawn and generally quiet, speaking--and acting--almost only to right what he considers a fault in judgement or action. Grayn seems always awash by the dim moonlight, even at noon. His grey irises should be blue, his light hair a vibrant blonde or even copper, his faded tan the strong tan of the outdoorsman. All of this, however, only frames his eyes--it appears as if his very soul has been washed out of him with lye and a strong brush. He speaks with a slight accent from the northern lands of Saelis, and is constantly dressed for utility, not style. Though generally well-hidden, Grayn has some ritual scarification on his back consisting of odd runes and symbols.

There is a coven of druids who call the DeathWaste their home. They are twisted ones, and have lost the path. They imagine the abominations there as natural. I've heard it said that they have made a friend of the Alzabo, the memory-beast, and that they use its powers and consume their own dead to gain the memories of their fallen comrades. I have not seen this, I do not know it as a fact.

I lived in the Adonai mountains, in the Nation of Saelis. I associated with the brave souls oif the Firewalker tribe, assisting them in passage and healing them, and learned something of the martial arts in return. I see the balance the cursed desert provides, but I feel the unnatural arcane magics emanating from it. The Firewalkers had the ideal of returning the lands infected by the Deathwaste to the natural Desert of Târiq, and so I helped them.

My brothers had warned me that there other balances than the ones I maintained. I now know to listen, but I did not then and I do not regret it. I still believe it is an unatural balance, and I feel my brethren do in their hearts. At that time in my life, I sought only balance, and did not understand the greater good in nature.

The El-Sayal, the rain of sand, that is what they call themselves. I had been tasked with learning what I could of these druids, as they were not, and to the memories of the greatest historians of ours, were never of our association.

I carried out my charge, leaving my friends the Firewalkers. I walked into the waste with Coyote and Snake and little else, and sought them out. I joined them and passed their Tahaddi and was initiated into their ways. In doing so I killed friend Coyote and friend Snake, for their kind, the natural animals, were not welcomed among the El-Sayal. If that was the worst act I committed with them, I could have forgiven myself through atonement. I will never be able to forgive myself.

It was a year I was with them, and still I never saw their inner practices. The desert teaches one to trust your brothers--the waste teaches one to fear and mistrust even yourself. I learned much about their habits and beliefs, and felt the undercurrent of their unnaturalness. The Shai-Hulud--their great leaders, always, even at the end of the year, made me feel as if they walked above the sand, that they did not belong.

We--the El-Sayal, were planning a storm on Saelis--specifically, those areas usually occupied by the Firewalkers. I revealed a new avenue of my personal history, and recommended an approach to a vulnerable position held by the Firewalkers.

I lied.

The sacred mountain worshipped as proxy to Morgan where the Firewalkers gather on Samhain has been awakened into a volcano by the Deathwaste. Their gathering place appears indefensible, until one realizes the powers that the priests of the Firewalkers command in this holy place, from which the Firewalkers take their name. Few outsiders know of this, and it was the case that none aligned against the walkers knew--because they had to the man perished when the grounds opened beneath them and they were engulfed in the liquid flames beneath.

I led the El-Sayal to this place and betrayed them. An army of their unnatural beasts, their aligned rangers and barbarians, and many of their own druids died, and the balance shifted away from their domination.

I spent the next five months in the mountains, wandering, avoiding people and animals alike. The Firewalkers revered, and feared, my paths. I lived in fear of them for my apparent betrayal, of the El-Sayal for my trickery, and of my brethren for my upsetting the balance. These fears have not changed in the years since. When I received message from the El-Sayal--in the form of the raised corpses of Friend Coyote and Friend Snake directed to kill me, I fled south and towards the coast. I gained knowledge and a new sense of self in the journey, and befriended a mating pair of badgers that listen to the ground for my enemies approaching.

I seek the strength to return to north and face my enemies in battle, and my friends at their holy ground. I understand now the balance of nature, and seek to reveal the imbalance of the El-Sayal.

Perhaps I will learn new trades in the heartlands that will assist me, or find new comrades.

Today, Rihana asked me what my birthday was, so I gave my standard answer, that I was a Lughnasadh babe. The truth is that I don't know. I don't know my parents, where I'm originally from, or anything about them. Knowing what I do now, I suspect my parents were unwilling or unable to protect me as a child, and so I was placed in the care of nearby (or simply willing) Druids. I used to hate my parents. I feel now that I understand them. I know what it feels like to be hunted and scared. I do not wish them ill will, and hope that their abandonment of me saved them from that life.