DM Oladon's Second Darkness

Game Master Oladon

That one? Yeah, I've seen her. Paler 'n'a ghost, more skittish than a feral cat. Comes in here t' play cards sometimes. Boss makes noises 'bout throwin' her out, but she don't win big. Just often. If she's cheating, nobody's been able t' catch her. Some of the regulars say she makes 'em nervous. She's got eyes of a color you ought only find on'a belly of a fish, an' she watches ya still-like. Some of 'em mutter about how she can see your cards in the reflection on your eye. But what'ta I care? I'm just a waiter. She buys drinks an' she tips decent. Anyone who does 'at is alright by me.

Llan'tyr was born in the embattled elven enclave outside ruined Celwynvian, to an elven mother and unknown father. Her nearly-white eyes and the way she shied away from sunlight started rumors that she was half drow, made worse by the fact that her mother never would say anything about him. A proud and private woman, she maintained that it was nobody's business but her own. Her advice to her daughter was to hold her head high, for she was as good as any other. In this, Llan'tyr... disappointed. She avoided people aside from her immediate family, though she could be coaxed out of hiding for the complicated card games that were a pastime among her cousins.

She was shunned by most adults and occasionally tormented by the younger elves, in the way that those who don't fit often are. It grew worse as her cohort aged, and Llan'tyr took to spending time in the outdoors where anyone with a village-dweller's heavy footfall could be noticed and avoided. Word among her family was that she would be apprenticed to a scout, when she was of age.

Llan'tyr wasn't elusive enough to last so long. When she was perhaps eighty (who bothered with precision in time when there was so much of it?), a handful of young elves who'd been among her persecutors in years past decided to rid their home of the "traitor's spawn". When all was said and done, Llan'tyr had been beaten, stuffed into a sack, and dropped down a crevasse at the outskirts of the ruined city which led who-knows-where.

The sack had torn on her way down - a small enough mercy, but one that allowed her to force her way out through the otherwise sturdy cloth. Unable to reach the crack in the ceiling that had let her in, Llan'tyr wandered for some time. She was never sure, but thought it might have been a few days. She ended up deeper and farther inside the limits of the ruined city than planned, where she stumbled into a drow patrol. Their leader said but two words to her, "Run, prey." and gave chase. It didn't matter where she went, so long as it was fast. In the largest cavern she came to, Llan'tyr had the space to run flat-out - and tripped over a frail-looking old elf sitting among the rock formations, who could've been carved from stone herself. The elder was bald as an egg and hardly seemed to breath, but watched the young elf with curiosity as she scrambled to her feet, looking back and forth among the entrance, several exits, and the old woman. "Go." was the command, issued in a voice rusty from disuse. Llan'tyr went. Behind her, the elder unfolded not-unlike a spider to stand and chant in a foreign tongue.

After that, there was no pursuit. Llan'tyr kept herself moving until exhaustion demanded that she rest. She allowed herself to stop in a live cave, where the thin sheet of water running over every surface could be collected and drank. It meant that there would be no getting dry anytime soon, but she found it difficult to care. Eventually, she slept.

Llan'tyr woke to the sound of someone clearing their throat, which echoed in the natural chamber. It was the elder. "There you are. Come." She shrank back against the wall. "Planning to stay there until you starve?" The old elf shrugged and turned to leave, leaning on her walking stick. Llan'tyr let her get some distance ahead before daring to follow. The elder looked back at the sound of movement, nodded with an inscrutable expression, and continued on. So began Llan'tyrs' testing and training as a druid.

These days, some hundred years later, Llan'tyr lives in the caverns that seawater has etched out of the cliffs south of Riddleport. She ventures into the city every so often, to game and purchase the odd product of civilization with her winnings.