Evia Cloy's page

Evia Cloy has always been searching for something. The child off to herself in the corner of the playground. The child most others sat two desks away from in school. She grew up in an old apartment tenement, in an even older city. Her parents were half-elven, and so she had been born a 'pure' half-elf. But there was also the purity of her isolation. She grew tall, fair. She helped her parents in their bread delivery business. She never asked for handouts. She was gracious in her dealings with all races, even half-orcs. Sometimes, she made enemies where she went, though. Her good nature was a detriment in the city. Sometimes she could talk her way out of dealings, sometimes not. Due to her family's poverty, more than once she'd had to steal to eat. She moved through her life, knowing this wasn't where she was meant to be.

Then one day she came across a set of books written by a deceased half-elf named Reynauld Augerston, a book of high adventure as he followed around a group of dragon-hunters and composed their epic. She was instantly taken by the tale. The characters felt so real to her. She could recite their journey through the Water Dunes from memory. So to the betrayal of one of their own to the evil dragon priests in the high mountain temples. She'd read them by firelight when her parents had gone to sleep, and looked out on the stars, wishing with all her might that she would have the opportunity to do something important like that one day, to follow the exploits of heroes.

She bided her time in the city, learned to take care of herself in every manner of way she could, as if she were preparing for the expedition of her lifetime. And perhaps she was, because Shelyn must've smiled upon her that day when a mercenary recruiter came looking for fresh recruits, and chose her neighborhood.

"We can't stop you," said her father with concern on his face as she told them of her plans. She had grown skilled with a blade, a bow, practicing in the alleys near their apartment, shooting old bottles and pots and rats. "We only want you safe and happy. But if your happiness means you have to sacrifice a bit of safety, then we won't stop you."

She wanted to create her own epic. Forge her own fellowship.

A mercenary's life seemed as good a place to start as any, but every time she tried to start her epic, put pen to paper, something always felt off. There was always something in the way, inhibiting her. Some said writer's block, but that wasn't quite it.

She might've been searching for the right story to tell...

Evia is an average height half-elf with a shock of red hair and a piercing stare. She wears an infectious smile most times, and thinks nothing of inspiring her friends to great acts of heroism.

"Their demonic opponent's fire sent curling shadows against the cave walls
And the heroes fanned out, so worn down from the long experiences
It took to get them there. The end of their road. So much pain, suffering. But wait!
This can't be the start of our story, no!

This story starts on a rain-soaked road
In the deep of night, novice blades for the goblins that hurt people.
Novice blades for the town they were sent to protect!

Here we are then, new friends and old!
Roads, goblins, ruddy things, all told.
Swords and arrows
Hearts held high,
Minds still sharp,
Wrestle destiny in your arms!

Breathe, breathe, breathe
The swords arrayed, so
Ground sings blood."

This town, this collection of people in the rain
Cannot be stopped, cannot be beaten!
Amidst a forest, we come to a howling mine
To stop these goblins, we will not be defeated!

Our swords sharp, our coinpurses light
We are mountains, their faces paled white
As we charge their final resting places
And they fall, and they fall, and they fall,
And we remember their faces.

Every one."