Faergar Meddles-With-Spirits never fit in with his tribemates. A skinny child, he grew up tall and despite not lacking in strength, he never filled out. Worse – as far as his kin were concerned – was his unnerving fascination with magic. Not the magic of the spirits, however. He hungrily absorbed the tribe’s stories of outsider magic, that most unnatural abomination.
As a member of the nomadic Qual’cel tribe, Faergar roamed the Ghostwinds. At the age of 16, he left the tribe to embark on the Spirit Quest – the mysterious rite of manhood all Qual’cels must endure. He wandered the Iron Pines for a month, not sure what he was supposed to do, when he spotted an elven woman – the first he’d ever seen. She was a thin slip of a thing, nothing at all like the hardy women of the Qual’cel, but she was fierce. They battled at first, like the elves and Qual’cel had always done, he with his axe, she with her daggers. The fight wore on far longer than he expected; they were evenly matched.
To this day, he’s not sure how it happened. One moment they were locked in mortal combat, their eyes locked on the other’s, probing for weakness, the next they were in a passionate embrace, mouths hungrily tasting the other’s flesh.
Much later that evening, after several more “bouts,” she slipped away in the night, leaving him with little beyond memories and a name: Drulanthia. Yet the pairing had changed him in ways more profound than he could ever know. Whether Drulanthia imparted a minor portion of her latent energy to him or simply awakened some dormant talent, he discovered a shocking new talent. With a mere twist of his thoughts, he launched a bolt of energy from his outstretched hand. The air turned deathly cold as the bolt sped through the air, and he swore he could see his ancestor’s faces in the ice that formed on the tree the bolt struck.
Convinced that the spirits had blessed him, Faergar returned to his tribe. With great ceremony, he recounted his Spirit Quest to the elders. So enraptured with his retelling was he that the looks of horror and dismay on his audience’s faces escaped him entirely. Flush with pride, he demonstrated his newfound power, and this time, there was no missing the outrage. The elders decried him as an abomination and had him seized. They tattooed the mark of banishment on his face and exiled him.
Confused, hurt, and alone, Faergar returned to the Iron Pines, hoping to find Drulanthia. Yet though he searched for a year, he found no trace of her or any other elves. With a heavy heart he traveled south into Kavun. He’s wandered the kingdom for several months, mostly living off the land, but also hiring on as a caravan guard from time to time.
