cynarion's Carrion Crown PbP

Game Master cynarion

The Forest of the Spirits in Tian Xia is where Reikou was born and raised. Soon after he reached his nineteenth birthday he began having dreams about an unfamiliar land infested with undead. Every time he woke up he had an overpowering feeling that something was calling him there. However, he resisted the feeling and did his best to ignore the dreams.

Unfortunately for Reikou, strange things began happening to him soon after the dreams began. Whenever he became stressed he found himself speaking in a strange tongue instead of Tian. Then he occasionally found that he was able to see magical auras around him even though he had never studied the magic necessary to do so. When one day his touch healed a gash one of his younger sisters had gotten when playing he know that he wasn’t going to be able to hide whatever was happening to him forever.

Finally, one night he had an especially vivid nightmare. A voice called to him in the same language that he had found himself speaking and scolded him for not taking his calling seriously and. When Reikou woke he found to his horror that he was not outside of one of the villages he had seen in his dreams.

Now he was stuck in a foreign land where he did not even know the name of the native language. Not that being able to speak the native tounge would have helped, because Reikou found that he was completely unable to speak normally.

Reikou likely would have starved to death if Professor Lorrimor had not been attracted by the spectacle of what appeared to be an extremely lost Tian. To Reikou’s suprise, the professor knew the language that he was speaking and was able to communicate with him. It did not take long for the professor to realize that Reikou was an oracle and offered to help him if he would answer some questions. Reikou quickly agreed.

In exchange for learning about Reikou’s experiences and about Tian Xai, Professor Lorrimor taught him how to speak Varisian, about Ustalav, and what he knew about oracles. Finally having someone around who could explain what was happening to him helped Reikou calm down and he eventually found himself able to speak normally again. Eventually Reikou because so thankful to the the professor that he risked revealing his kitsune because he believed the man would be interested in learning about his race. It turned out that he was right, and the professor spent hours asking him about the nature of kitsunes and what it was like to be a shapeshifter.

The professor had essentially saved Reikou’s life, and the kitsune promised that he would return the favor one day. For now, he resolved to gain proper control over his powers as an oracle and learn his purpose. Whatever forces had chosen him, it seemed that they were not going to simply let him return home without accomplishing the tasks they intended for him. The fact that he seemed to have been given powers over life and healing lead him to realize that whatever he needed to do it was probably going to do some good for a land infested with undead.

After nearly a year of wandering the land as a healer, word of Professor Lorrimor’s death reached Reikou. Hearing about the death of the man who had saved him greatly saddened Reikou, but he was surprised to hear that he had been mentioned in the man’s will. Soon afterwards Reikou’s dreams became disturbed again, and it did not take long for him to suspect that Professor Lorrimor was tied in with what the fates had planned for him.

DEFENSE
AC 16, touch 13, flat-footed 13 (+3 armor, +3 Dex)
hp 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +1, Ref +3, Will +1; +2 vs. fear

OFFENSE
Speed 30 ft.
Melee dagger +0 (1d4/19–20), bite -5 (1d4+1/20)
Oracle Spells Known (CL 1st; concentration +5)

1st (4)- cure light wounds (DC 15), shield of faith

0 (at will)- detect magic, light, read magic, stabilize

Mystery: Life

STATISTICS
Str 11, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 10, Cha 18
Base: Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 13
Feats: extra channel
Traits making good on a promise, fast talker
Skills Acrobatics +5, Bluff +8, Disguise +5, Diplomacy +8, Knowledge (nature) +5, Knowledge (religion) +5, Perception +1, Spellcraft +5
Favored Class: oracle (+1 skill point)
Languages: celestial, common, tien, senzar
SQ: oracle's curse (tounges), revelations (channel 7/day 1d6 DC 14), agile, change shape, kitsune magic (+1 enchantment DC, 3/day dancing lights)
Gear: studded leather armor, dagger, light crossbow, backpack, bedroll, rope (hemp), rations (5)

Melee Unarmed Attack +4 (1d6+4)
Flurry Unarmed +3/+3 (1d6+4/1d6+4)
Long spear +4 (1d8+6)*sharpened
+1 to attack of opportunities when unarmed.

Ranged
Shuriken+2(1d2+5)*sharpened)
Flurry Shuriken+1(1d2+5)*sharpened)

Languages Common, Varisian

Skills:
6 Skill Points/Level (5 Total)

Acrobatics 6(1+3CS+2Dex)
Climb 8 (1+3CS+4Str)
Stealth 6 (1+3CS+2Dex)
Perception 7 (1+3CS+3Wis)
Sense Motive 7 (1+3CS+3Wis)
Knowledge (Religion) 7 (1+3CS+1Int+2trait)

Feats and Traits:

Trait
Teacher's Pet(knowledge religion +2)
Candidate for Perfection(+1 to AOO w/ unarmed strikes)

Feats
(Human) Combat Reflexes (4 AoO/Round)
(Bonus Monk) Unarmed Strike
(Monk 1) Improved Trip (+2 to nad vs. trip attempts, no AoO)
(1st Level) Vicious Stomp

However, Theron’s world was turned upside down when one day his town was preyed upon by undead. People began disappearing every night, and those who searched for the victims often ended up missing as well. Eventually even Theron’s sister Mireal went missing. Fortunately a group of Iomedaean Inquisitors heard of the town’s plight before things got to the point of evacuation. Within a day the inquisitors were able track the disappearances to a necromancer who had set himself up outside of town. He was burned in the center of the town.

When the inquisitors claimed that the man had fancied himself as a member of the Whispering Way, Theron realized that there were many others like this madman who had taken his sister away from him. Despite the objections of his parents, Theron asked the inquisitors to take him with them so that he could also hunt down these kinds of monsters.

Making the transition from life as a commoner to life as a hunter of evil was not easy for Theron, but he has put his full effort into it set out hunting as soon as his initial training was over. It was during one of these first hunts that he happened to meet Professor Lorrimor. Theron had initially singled out Professor Lorrimor as a suspicious individual who as likely involved in dark magics. The man seemed to be searching for too much information of questionable nature.

However, after tracking Lorrimor’s movements near some ruins outside of a town, Theron was surprised he noticed a ghoul preparing to ambush the old man. Making a snap decision, Theron called out a warning and sprung out to fight the monster.

Theron barely won the fight, and was surprised when the professor thanked him profusely for saving him. Theron didn’t mention that he had actually been tracking him, but he had a feeling that the old man knew that they weren't both there by chance.

The old professor quickly began ask a bit about Theron and sharing information about his studies. After talking for a while, Theron realized he had misjudged the man and that he was researching information to help stop the same men and monsters that he was hunting. In fact, some inquisitors even came to him for information on occasion! In the end, the professor promised that he would never forget Theron.

Meeting the professor had taught Theron a valuable lesson in not being too quick to judge a man and that he still had a long way to go before he was a proper inquisitor. However, it was only a few months later that Professor Lorrimor died and Theron found himself being summoned in his will. Supposing that he was listed as a possible heir as thanks for saving the professor, Theron set off to pay his final respects. Truth be told, Theron wasn’t sure he deserved any thanks.

Curse that oaf Jarl, he thought, thinking of his absent bodyguard. An hour late, and the sole time I’ve needed him this entire journey. If he has half the skill at fighting as he does boasting and drinking, he could easily trounce these witless brutes pursuing me.

Though his pursuers were gaining ground, the professor managed to reach the tavern before they could accost him. He heard the sounds of revelry as he reached toward the door, but a third man stepped from the shadows, brandishing a rough wooden club.

Evenin’ “Professor”, the wide-shouldered man said in a derisive tone, Care to join us for a chat?. The professor had no choice but to obey and followed the man into the alley as his lackeys arrived.
Lorrimor slowly reached into his pocket, but his assailant saw.

Keep your hands where I can see them! he threatened, but his countenance changed when he saw the old man produce a coin.
One piece of silver? You think you can buy us off with that? The professor watched with impatience as the man threw his head back and laughed.

You remind me of my grandfather, who was a sweet old man before he passed. So let me speak plainly—you are not welcome here. Stop digging around, or me and my friends here will take you into the woods and do some digging of our own. Do you understand?

The professor considered him coolly as he fingered the magic token in his hand. I don’t have time for this, he thought. But if I summon my guards, things will get bloody, and then I’ll never get the answers I need from these people. Jarl will pay for this….

As Lorrimor opened his mouth to speak the command word, the door to “The Turnip” burst open, spilling its merriment into the cold night air.
…and as the gods, thank them for their kindness, blessed us with all the joys and sorrows of this land, one among them contented herself with creating the heavens above. Yes Desna, in her wisdom, made the stars and skies so that she may watch over us and our deeds. The booming voice got even louder, carrying towards the alley, forcing the professor and the three thugs to turn toward the speaker. Strangely, the sound’s origin was a small Halfling donning ornately decorated armor and robes depicting a star-encircled purple butterfly.

The man with the club looked upon the Halfling with annoyance. Get lost, Lem. No one wants to hear any sermons today.

Is that so, Hagen? Seems like you could stand to hear a few of my words. I saw Ellie and the kids today. There’s lots of work to be done at your house, and your children are hungry, but here you are threatening a guest in town.

The man called Hagen ground his teeth. This is important! We don’t need his kind here, stirring up trouble. He gestured to his friends, who began moving around to flank the Halfling. Leave now, or we’ll shorten you down even more.

The professor slowly backed away and considered his coin again, but saw that the Halfling was not the least bit afraid. His smile never changed as he spoke up loudly once more.

Take care when you threaten me. Lady Luck herself always watches over us, from above. Might be you should take a look.

Hagen and his stooges hesitated, and raised their gazes to the sky. A man stood at the 2nd floor window of the Turnip, crossbow loaded and leveled at Hagen’s heart. The professor relaxed and put the coin back in his pocket as Hagen dropped his club. Then Lem spoke again:
Well, Desna watches us, but she also likes it when we can take care of ourselves and each other, from time to time. So go home and help your family.

The men nodded agreement and stalked off, shoulders slumped, as the Halfling waved to the man in the window.

The professor extended his hand in greeting. Thanks, friend. I’m Professor Petros Lorrimor. Perhaps you can help me. I’m looking for…

I know where the book is, Professor. The name’s Lem Longbarrow, and I’m no stranger to these parts. I’ve been drinking with Jarl for the last two hours, and he told me all about you. Come on, let me show you the way. And you should be more careful. People around here don’t take kindly to strangers asking questions…

STATISTICS

Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 8, Cha 14

Base Atk + 1; CMB + 4; CMD 15

Feats Power Attack
Traits Making good on promises, Indomitable faith

Skills
1 Bluff +6
1 Climb +7
1 Craft (instrument) +4
1 Intimidate +8
1 Perform (wind) +36
Languages Common, Orc

SQ banner

Combat Gear 250 gp

Haünrar used his superior (to most orcs) intellect to learn how to manipulate and control his fellow tribesman. Of course, among the orcs, intimidation is the best tool for the job at hand, so one day, he threw a tormentor off by getting in his face and threatening to hack off his shotputs. It worked. From that day on, Haünrar didn’t have to shovel scat, do laundry, or pick fleas out of his peer’s back hair. He worked his way up to battle crier for his tribe. He had mastered the dances, the chants, and the war horn. Every battle his tribe entered was led by his horn’s blast. He rallied his troops with his chants of victory, calls of orkan valor, beratements against weaknesses. His battle dances intimidated the enemies and demoralized merchant guards, often getting them to give up the wares without a fight. Haünrar envisioned a new, less violent way to live. This last bit soon became his downfall.

You see, Haünrar was disgusted by his brothers’ behaviors. The rampant acts of cruelty, the raping, the killing of helpless victims, the taking of slaves, living in filth; all of these things wore on Haünrar to the tipping point. He could not be a part of one more senseless murder, let one more flea bite him, or eat one more rotten unknown meat sandwich without real bread instead of sweetbread. One day he confronted his chieftain, asking him to lead the tribe into a new path. Of course, the chief laughed off the suggestion, so Haünrar tried to intimidate the chieftain to try to be more civilized. The chief beat him bloody with his own horn, and kicked him straight off a nearby cliff.

The chief didn’t realize that at the bottom of the cliff was a deep, refreshing, river with a fast current. Haünrar was carried for several miles before he washed ashore, right to the feet of Professor Petros Lorrimor, who was out on one of his expeditions. The professor brought the half-orc to consciousness and asked only in return that Haünrar act as his guard through Belkzen and into Ustalav. When they arrived, the professor and half-orc parted ways, though Haünrar was told to expect a call from him some day.

As long as there isn't any particular danger, Alset is composed and charming but he tends to stutter and lose focus if he feels threatened. Without Surge, his tactics typically involve tossing summoned monsters at whatever threatens him and running away.

OFFENSE
Speed 30 ft.
Melee dagger +0 (1d4/19–20)
Merged
Speed 30 ft.
Melee 2 claws +5 (1d6+3)

Summoner Spells Known (CL 1st; concentration +5)
1st (4)- Mage Armor, Summon Monster 1
0 (at will)- detect magic, light, read magic, arcane mark

STATISTICS
Str 10, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 14, Cha 18
Base: Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 13
Merged
Str 16, Dex 12, Con 13, Int 14, Wis 14, Cha 18
Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 15
Feats: Weapon Focus (claws), Improved Initiative
Traits: Inspired by Greatness, World Traveler (Diplomacy)
Skills Diplomacy +9, Knowledge (Local) +6, Knowledge (Arcana) +6, Perception +3, Spellcraft +6
Favored Class: Summoner (+1 hp)
Languages: celestial, common, infernal
Gear: leather armor, dagger, backpack, bedroll, rope (hemp), rations (5)

Surge's Evolutions
Evolutions
1 (3): Improved Natural Armor (1), Improved Damage (1), Scent (1)

As a reminder, this but probably without the horns and some of the more ornate bits. Maybe later on.

First observation, the name. I'll get to that later.

Second observation, the age. I actually like your idea of being the equivalent of a 'Samsaran Teen'. My thoughts are that Rose (Chunhua) had quite abit of material wealth accumulated by her adventuring times during her last life, which could have been left with the professor at the time of her staking. I actually don't know how old the Professor is at the time of the adventure start as well. So if she had met the Professor young (possibly set him to start his own line of research) would help with that.

Going into the third observation from that, how she got to Ustalav. Being so far from Zi Ha, and a central congregation of Samsaran souls, she did indeed reincarnate closer, close enough that the Professor was able to use some of the wealth Rose had left to hire a wizard (or any other divination type class) to find out where and when she would reincarnate, and he was able to help her out early on, set her up with a good family. During this time she maintained contact with the Professor (letters and such) as she grew up.

Coming back around now, the name aspect was given to her by her new family. She still remembers the name Chunhua (that could be how the Professor calls her) but uses the other name in most dealings.

As far as the mechanical aspects go, I wasn't finished building it yet either, so I'll be getting to that today/tomorrow. I'm actually amazed you found any reference to the katana at all. I had thought I had erased them all, and had no plans on that being my weapon of choice. The only spot I found was under the Blackblade description (after reveiwing it again), and removed it as well. Kudos to your character sheet auditing skills.

Let me know if there's still any holes left I'm missing in the background.

Feats

Power Attack (-1 penalty to attack roll, +2 damage on melee attack roll, +50% if attack with primary natural weapon that adds 1-1/2 times strength mod on damage rolls)

Good Saves: Fort: +2, Ref: +2
Bad Save: Will: +0
Armor Bonus: +0
Str/Dex Bonus: +0
Evolution Pool: 3
Max Attacks: 3

Evolutions

Bite
Limbs(legs)(2)
Pounce: Full attack after charge
Improved Damage: Bite does 1d8 instead of 1d6
Resistance(fire): DR 5/fire

Special: Darkvision (60'), Link, Share Spells

Offense

BAB: +1

Init:+2

Bite: 3 (-1 for Power Attack) damage 1d8+1-1/2 strength mod(3) (+2-1/2 pow attack)

Defense

AC: 14; Touch: 12; FF: 12
Fort:3
Reflex:4
Will:0

CMB:3; CMD: 15

Skills:
Acrobatics:5(skilled0
Bluff:39skilled0
Climb:2
Escape Artist:2
Knowledge(Planes):-2
Perception:3(skilled)
Sense Motive:3(skilled)
Stealth(2)

+2 Dexterity, +2 Charisma, –2 Strength: Halflings are nimble and strong-willed, but their small stature makes them weaker than other races.

Small: Halflings are Small creatures and gain a +1 size bonus to their AC, a +1 size bonus on attack rolls, a –1 penalty to their Combat Maneuver Bonus (CMB) and Combat Maneuver Defense (CMD), and a +4 size bonus on Stealth checks.

Slow Speed: Halflings have a base speed of 20 feet.

Fearless: Halflings receive a +2 racial bonus on all saving throws against fear. This bonus stacks with the bonus granted by halfling luck.

Halfling Luck: Halflings receive a +1 racial bonus on all saving throws.

Keen Senses: Halflings receive a +2 racial bonus on Perception skill checks.
Sure-Footed: Halflings receive a +2 racial bonus on Acrobatics and Climb skill checks.

Weapon Familiarity: Halflings are proficient with slings and treat any weapon with the word “halfling” in its name as a martial weapon.

Total Weight: 21.25lb

Light Load: 30lb
Medium Load: 31-60lb
Heavy Load: 61-90lb

Special Abilities

Eidolon, Life Link, Summon Monster(I)(7times/day0

0: Daze, Message, Resistance, Read Magic

1: Ventriloquism, Rejuvinate Eidolon (lesser)

2 spells/day

Character Intentions

I plan on, at some point, multiclassing Vel with a few or more bard levels, as a multiclassed bard/summoner is how I envisioned him from the start. I have always thought of Vel as sort of the "face man" of any group he joins, but I felt the summoner would give his rather not-combat focused stats the necessary boost so as to be combat viable. Vel likes to hang back in combat, taking potshots at the enemy, buffing his teammates and ordering his eidolon into the fray, using the otherworldly creatures might in place of his own.

[spoiler=Personality]Vel Miro is swift, charming and eccentric, with a sharp silver tongue to boot. He is well versed in manipulating others, but such a trait only grew out of necessity, not a lust for power. Generally, Vel has come to accept his lot in life, enjoying adventure and the ability to explore the burgeoning infinite reaches of his own power.

Vel is very witty, and has a habit of being kind of a smartass, but is well humored and makes certain never to discriminate and that helping others in need is a mantra he is never willing to concede.

Vel's Eidolon, a quadruped named Infernius, is a wolfish looking creature with many shades of deep red fur that seems to blend and move as you look at it. While not bright, Infernius tends to act a bit as a smartass too, imitating his master to an alarming degree. He will never disobey Vel, and loves him as a pet loves his master, but is never unwilling to speak his mind on things when he feels something needs stating.

If Vel Miro is anything it is certainly not modest, and he’d be the first to say he was the greatest thing to grace the Bard College at Karcau since the invention of the chamber pot. He was born in inauspicious surroundings to an escaped slave from the river kingdoms and a shipwright in Karcau, but never accepted the mundane livelihood his parents wanted to force on him. Being a Halfling, an oddity in a city filled brimming with tall, pale, humans, Vel felt himself become a sort of outcast. He eventually learned that his wits would always serve him better in his position than his brawn and developed a silver tongue that could be paralleled by none. Fast Talker

He was a natural at the lute, taking to it like a starving man takes to water, and his passion, (and a mild amount of scheming and deception on his part) eventually got him accepted to the most prestigious bard’s college in the city. His small stature and otherworldly musical talent served to make him plenty of opponents in this school, which turned out to be much more Byzantine than he ever thought possible. The students in this school weren’t just in it for the music, these monstrous, devious demons were about as cutthroat as a den of thieves, and at least a den of thieves wouldn’t have kept up the pretense.

So things for a while grew difficult for Vel for a long while, but again the same revelation came to him as it did in his youth – if you can’t beat ‘em, convince others to do it for you. So his powers of manipulation grew, and soon it became child’s play to dance around the pretentious blowhards at the academy with his silver tongue, unmatchable wits and with his group of followers he sumptuously obtained through a combination of incentive, camaraderie and a decent helping of blackmail. Life soon became a lot less dark. His easygoing attitude and stunning poetic vocabulary was almost always enough to get him access to all kinds of exclusive clubs, and even the bedchambers of a few lovestruck darlings who soon learned the true meaning of “size isn’t everything.”

He might even have been able to say that, as for the first time in his life, he had actually made one true friend in a singer named Ignus Fernus, who Vel took to calling Infernius, just as a play on his name. In actuality Ignus possessed a rather cool demeanor, but both he and Vel had experienced ostracization in their youths, and this was the thing that kept them together as friends.

It all seemed to be going well until one fateful night in the middle of summer in Vel’s third year at the bard’s college. He was snatched out of bed and dragged through the dormitories inside a cotton bag held over the shoulder of some person and outside the front doors of the academy. No guardsmen stopped them and no bells were rung that night.

Vel was taken to a forest outside the city where he was upended out of the bag and was tied, ankles and wrists, to a small tree. Mel realized that the one dragging him had been Ignus, accompanied by a large group of his sworn enemies and several of his other so called “friends.” Ignus told him this wasn’t personal, that the other guys had promised to insure a position as a court singer for a powerful nobleman. He said to Vel, “I don’t want to end of up as some traveling minstrel. And let’s face it Vel, it’s not like you would ever be able to achieve anything like this. The best you could ever hope for was to wind up in some traveling freak show. Who could ever take you seriously?”

They started by breaking all of his fingers, first the right hand so he couldn’t strum his lute, and then the left so he couldn’t finger the notes. When that was done one of the cronies took a long knife and brought it to Vel’s temple. He made a long sweeping gash along his hairline, as if he were going to scalp him, but then brought it along down his cheek and across his ear and down to his throat. He called it, “a gift to remember me by.” Vel could never recall his name, but his face stuck in his memories, a piggy, scrunched up face, huge eyebrows and nosehairs hanging down from inside his nostrils like stalactites.

They left him for dead the next morning, and after days of hopeless attempts at escape, he was almost sure it was the end. And it was the end, for how long he couldn’t remember, but the next thing he knew he was on the bed in a stranger’s house. It was a quaint house, a small box-like commode with a large thatched roof that rose up into the sky like a cathedral tower and a chimney that was so warped it should have been falling down of its own accord. The stranger identified himself as a Professor Lorrimor, and that Vel had been quite near death for almost six days before he had found him. When Vel asked what he could do in repayment for saving his life the professor merely shook his head and told Vel that all he asked in return was a favor sometime in the near foreseeable future, that one of these days he would call on Vel for his aid. Making Good on Promises He gave Vel some wine and he fell back into dreamless sleep.
When he awoke the cabin was gone and all that was left was Vel, a map and a supply of trail provisions. Vel knew he could not return now to Karcau, and so he set off into a random direction for parts unknown.

He no longer had his lute and when he eventually retrieved a replacement the strings felt wrong in his hands, as if a different person had once played them and the man he was now was only a plebian in the arts. As he traveled he grew evermore angry and bitter. He was resentful that he no longer felt the music as he once did, he resented his unsupportive parents and a prejudiced society, but most of all he cursed the “friends” that betrayed him, people that knew nothing of loyalty, of partnership, of the sacred bond that formed between friends, the idea that you would put the other before the self, sacrifice everything for the sake of the friendship.

Vel’s focus had forever been on his music, but the arcane had always held a deep seated interest to him. The “music of the ethereal,” he would sometimes call it, he never did anything but dabble in the arcane, a few parlor trick spells he picked up here and there, a touch of alchemy when he was feeling dangerous, but never anything serious, at least not until now.

It was a dark and stormy night, about as gothic a setting as Vel had ever seen, and he was all alone, as was usual these days with his solo repertoire. For an instance, standing in the pouring rain, his anger flared. All the hatred and feeling of injustice flowed through him and he cursed the gods, the planes, the ground, practically anything that he could think of he denounced for his fate. He especially hated himself and his carelessness with his friendship, the naiveté with which he spent his days and the sorry pathetic man he made himself out to be after the fact.

The scar left across his face began to glow and the most curious sensation he had ever felt began to flow through him. He felt a strange atypical power coursing through his veins and in his wonder he reached out and touched something. He couldn’t tell much of what it was. It wasn’t physical or emotional, it was just raw, unbridled spirit, waiting for molding, waiting, a spring-like potential, for manifestation.

He grasped at it.

He awoke to find that the overcast sky was still there and that the torrential downpour had turned into a light drizzle. He also found that next to him was the most curious creature head ever seen. It was a quadruped and furred, but the fur consisted of a deep red tinge that lightened and darkened in certain random areas and the colors looked as if they were constantly shifting. It looked almost like a wolf, but the proportions were slightly off. Its mandible was far too large and its ears bent backwards at an odd angle. Its eyes were two black opals and it spoke to him in a throaty, hoarse tongue, though without moving its mouth even the slightest.

It asked Vel, “What is my name?”

Vel soon learned that this creature he had made manifest was called an eidolon, and that there were people, men and women known as summoners, who had the ability to call upon unformed spirits from the farthest planes of unsound thought and belief and give them form. Vel called his eidolon Infernius, and he knew almost instantaneously that this creature was forever his, loyal, obedient, and willing to sacrifice his life for him if need be. He need not manipulate it, or play it for a fool. It was his, and Vel was the eidolon’s also.

Vel still plays his lute from time to time, and maybe one day he might return to the joy he once felt for his music, but for now there was just too much in this world to experience to worry about that. He had a debt he would eventually need to repay, and the world, however clouded, seemed a lot less dark now that he wasn’t alone.