Leanor Kandelu's page

. . 1st—Bless, Cure Light Wounds, Comprehend Languages*, Divine Favor, Keep Watch, Protection From Evil, Shield of Faith*, Wrath
. . 0th—Acid Splash, Bleed, Brand, Create Water, Daze, Detect Magic, Detect Poison, Disrupt Undead, Guidance, Light, Oath of Anonymity, Read Magic, Resistance, Sift, Stabilize, Virtue

* Purchased Spells

Leanor was gifted with every ounce of her Varisian mother's strength, but her frame is undoubtedly that of elven stock. Tall and lithe, she stands at a stern 5'9" with a weight of 135lbs, and dresses the part of an explorer in her everyday life, her silverish-blonde hair forever tied back and her person always marked with a pauldron, crest, or similar homage to her divine patron. Leanor's eyes, the colour of frost-bitten grass, have suffered poorly after years of research in dim or otherwise unlit rooms, meaning she can be regularly found wearing a pair of eyeglasses when studying her texts, but gladly takes them off when the threat of violence draws close.

Holy Book: Leanor's Holy Book, occasionally referred to as the 'Kandelu Lexicon', is the summation of decades of Azlanti research, gleamed from her father's works, and a large quantity of scriptures, arcana, spellcraft, maps, and subject studies litter the pages from start to finish. Well over a foot tall in size, this text is bound in chequered iron and embossed with the mark of a quill-carrying wren. Any average person might question the unusually high number of dents and scars across its surface...until one witnesses Leanor in combat, at which point all such questions immediately cease.

At her core Leanor is altruistic and eager to assist, if a bit insufferable when it comes to matters of personal space and privacy (she legitimately forgets that particular social norm exists). Beyond her immediate role as a travelling sleuth and empyreal disciple, Leanor prides herself on being something of a random factoid dispenser and has been known to break uneasy silences with her occasionally inappropriate musings or quips of lore, if only to fill the air. In reality she finds it difficult to enjoy the company of most people without some manner of noise, and only once she properly trusts them does she let herself wind down and effectively "turn off". This, among many other things, is the predominate reason that Leanor has difficulty maintaining her focus beyond research, and rarely sleeps, often opting for Zohls’s divine assistance in lieu of dreams.

Overall Ms Kandelu's hobbies include reading, exploring, tinkering with magical items, solving riddles or puzzles, participating in contests of intellect, and thwarting common domestic evils. Contrary to what she might say, she does actually take a great deal of pleasure in meeting out punishment and judgement upon the guilty and cruel (both being typically delivered by liberal application of Holy Book to Sinner's Skull), but above all else Leanor takes immense joy in bringing unsolved crimes to justice.

Born of a fleeting union between a centuries-old scholar of ancient Azlanti history and a sharp-witted prosecutor in service to the Magnimar Justice Court, Leanor can perhaps be forgiven for being a little stranger than the norm. Her mother, busy all hours of the day with her investigations and righteous obsession for truth, had little time to properly entertain motherhood, leaving Leanor’s upbringing to an ever-changing number unfortunate associates over the years, not that the junior sleuth ever had reason to mind.

Meanwhile her father, a roaming spellcaster heralding from the distant lands of Kyonin, remained distant for much of her youth, his academic work forever calling him to-and-fro the many archaeological sites and societies dotted across the Inner Sea. In fact what few memories Leanor carries of her Elven parent are cold; as though her presence were an unfortunate happen-stance, something to be endured. What little she knows of him is borne of the essays and journals stacked in the darkest corner of her mother’s office: scriptures whispering of times long before the rise of Aroden and the fall of Azlant, the worn pages dotted with arcane text and words far older than she could imagine. When the news came of his death at the hands of orcish bandits on the edge of Belkzen, Leanor took to his grimoires in mourning—spending untold hours scratching at dead words, desperately trying to make sense of her father’s research, solving one mystery only to find another, and another, until there was nothing left to build upon but questions her father had yet to answer.

As time passed, Leanor grew older, sharper, stronger. Naturally following her mother into the taxing world of law enforcement, the Half-Elf quickly found herself in the employ of the Magnimar City Guard...but memories of her father’s unfinished work continued to haunt her, the languages of old Thassilon scratching at her mind like an insufferable itch. Desperate to rid herself of the obsession, Leanor turned to the gods for relief, only to find none among brightest stars of Heaven, nor the intricacies of Axis; only a cold, quiet void in which her brain continued to think, ponder, and dream of mysteries yet undone.

In the end, Leanor's faith came with no great revelation, no moment of epiphany–but rather a soft, musing disapproval at the back of her skull, tutting as if to chide the girl who had taught herself to speak six tongues and yet complained of learning a seventh. Like a broken twig Leanor snapped, and in her frustration the Half-Elf took to her father’s books in a vapid rage, plying through notes and scripture until finally a foreign, ironclad tome rested in her hands, etched with chequered markings, her father’s arcana, and a single celestial word: Zohls.

Years later, Leanor is now a relentlessly pious (and arguably sleepless these days) devotee of the Empyreal Lord otherwise known as 'Verity'. Her determination, fuelled by divine power and a well-fanned lust for lost secrets and discoveries, has driven Leanor to become a travelling scholar in her own right, roaming the once-great ruins of Varisia with logic and deduction as her guides, more often following trails of thought than any given map. As it happens, her most recent studies have brought her to Sandpoint on the heel of a short expedition out onto the Lost Coast. Though Leanor might be sworn to the archon lord in faith, the Swallowtail Festival so far gives her an excuse to indulge in the celebrations and her passion for culture.