Tarwas, E’Sum Tel Myth Drannor's page

Tarwas Childhood in Myth Drannor still is his fondest memory, of times of innocent play and peaceful existence. Then the Daemons came and and it all ended in tears, blood and fire, the great elven kingdom layed to ruin and its survivors scattered through the other receding elven setlements, human lands or retreated to Evermeet.

The next 70 years Tarwas, for elven standards still adolescent, traveled most of Faerun as Adventurer, in search of the happiness and the feeling of home he had lost. He found great comrades and for some years he was almost content, yet at some point his mostly human friends started to grow old, stopped adventuring and finally died, leaving him uprooted again.
Believing there would be nothing left for him in Faerun and decided to settle in Evermeet. He laied down sword and spell, started to paint, read a lot and even had two sons with Lierna, his now deceased wife. And again he was mostly content, yet the longing for his home never really left him and he was sad to see the elven people loosing ever more ground on Faerun.

When Seiveril Miritar then called for the crusade he decided it time to do something. Without his wife there wasn't much left to keep him grounded on the island and this might be the last chance for the elves to reclaim their place in the world.
The Crusade itself went well, Tarwas took part in some of the battles but overall played a rather small role.
But only days after they had won and repaired the Mythal the world ended. The Gods grew silent, portals to the lower planes sprouted like mushrooms and Faerun became the next battlefield in the eternal Blood Wars and now was for the last 30 years.

While the Mythal spared Myth Drannor from the fate of most humans cities the constant siege takes it toll.
The looses were biggest for the first few month, when everyone still desperately tried to turn the tide of fiends back to where they came but even after the elves retreated under the protection of the Mythal and left their neighbors to their fates hardly a day goes by without at least a small Demon intrusion. By now the once proud defenders are not much more than a skeleton force, forced to take even volunteers under 100 years to keep their ranks from collapsing and even the Mythal shows signs of wear.
What he had planned as a short one or two year interruption in his retirement has become painful, never ending duty, yet he was too stubborn to let the younger take the brunt of it.

Then one day he and his men, patrolling the outskirt of the Mythal, came upon a group of demons who managed to break through the weakened mythal and making their way towards one of the outward living quarters.
At first the battle went well but once the demons commander, a Balor who had flown unnoticed above his troops, his men started to die like flies and he was forced to sound a retreat or face a total slaughter.
Yet he also couldn't let the Balor reach the living quarters before reinforcement arrived. Thus, even while his force broke apart he advanced on the 14 ft tall beast, hoping to keep it occupied just long enough.

The beast, startled by this maggots courage, just started to laugh in a booming, but somehow still screeching voice.
"You mortals'll never learn, will you? Resistance only leads to more suffering and certain death!"
As calm as a man facing his end and the possibility of eternal torment can be and relieved that the balors talkativeness played into his hands, Tarwas just replied "I don't fear death, for I've seen more than one could wish for. Yet I've also seen this city fall once, when I couldn't do anything. As long as there is any breath left in my old body I wont let it happen again!"
Fuelled by all the the frustration about the state of the world and the impending doom of the waning elves he charged the monster.
Maybe it was luck, maybe it was the hand of fate or maybe the pseudo intelligent Mythal waited for just this moment. Whatever is was, just as Tarwas brought his Thinblade, sizzling with conjured acid, down on the fiends belly he felt his spell getting infused by tremendous power. His blade penetrated the monster thick hide like paper and once inside the balor managed nothing else than a shocked look before he exploded in an inferno of fire and acid, leaving a 100 feet hole where the combatants stood a second ago.

"It was almost 250 year ago when the Company of Shattering Shields still existed. We once decided to try our luck in the endless halls of undermountain where the Mad Wizard holds sway over endless hordes of monsters.
So far everything went fine, we fought some Duergar, a few Kobolds and a Naga, looted a few minor riches and still made our way deeper down.
I'm actually not sure how deep we were, but I guess somewhere around the Farm Level where all those creatures of the dark grow their food, as we saw, and circled around, a few big mushroom colonies.
But then, just as we stood at a crossroad and were unsure which way to take, a quake!
The ceiling over us carved in and only a quick jump into one of the tunnels saved your old father from being buried alive.
Once the dust had settled we managed to magically check if everyone is ok and luckily all besides Round Bertram, who broke his leg, managed to jump aside in time.
That was all nice and well, however now we were separated by tons of rock and only Daron Hillshadow, called the Ancient by, well everyone, had jumped the same way as I did.
So what do you expect us to do? Try to get out of this monster infested maze? Reach the rest of our merry group? No, in our youthful recklessness, ah as you'll surely remember Daron was also only 107 despite having already adventured with the parents of most of the lads. Humans and their short livespans can sometimes be strange.
Where was I? Ah yes ,while the rest decided to retreat, we, in our youthful recklessness, decided to go deeper into the mountain, determined to show those pansy humans that they were just craven.
So we marched on, an Elf and a Dwarf side by side walking towards unknown horrors or undreamed treasures.
After a short while we reached what seemed like an old Illefarn crypt, one of the last remnants of old Aelinthaldaar. Once a sacred place it now showed clear signs of desecration, the most apparent maybe being a strange, mostly dried slime covering the ground almost everywhere.
Non the less, we came for treasure and the chance to cleanse an elven crypt had its appeal too, so we marched in, me in front, Daron behind.
After a short hallway the crypt opened into a surprisingly big, round hall. Looking around we saw more slime, a giant heap of treasure on one side and a seemingly untouched sarcophagus in the middle. No sign of any monster or the source of the slimy liquid.
Thus we just set to investigate the coffin.
It seemed to be indeed untouched and Daron discerned that it was warded by incredible powerful magic, still strong after all those millenia.
And that was the moment I first laid eyes on this fine blade. The lifelike relief-figurine on the lid did not hold a stone weapon, no, it did hold this very blade. Fashioned in the style of Ethlandos Moonblades and highly magical, we at first though it might itself be one of the lost ones, legendary artifacts from the end of the crown wars. Yet Moonblades are also known to sometimes kill anyone that tries to use them but their rightful wielder. We thus decided to just take the treasure and report our finding, so someone more suited to the task could look into it.
But just as we reached that decision we heard a loud splat and for the first time since entering the crypt looked up.
And what we saw nearly let me loose control of my bladder.
Up in the middle of the dome-like ceiling floated a giant ball with eyesstalks protruding all over. You might have heard of the terrible Beholder, but let me tell you, this was no ordinary Beholder! It was bigger than every account I've ever heard describing them and it grinned a terrible grin while thick, slimy liquid dripped out between it's giant teeth.
I quickly drew my sword, but before I could do anything else a ray from one of its eyes hit me and for a terrible moment it feeled like my body was ripped apart on the most basic level, a pain impossible to image. I fell down smoldering, sword and most of my clothes nothing more than fine ash and started to loose consciousness.
As I regained it only moments later I saw Daron stand with his back to the wall, staring into the slowly advancing things giant eye and seemingly unable to cast any of his many spells.
Panicking I grabbed the only nearby thing, the sword on the sarcophagus and threw myself with all my remaining strength towards the baffled orb. Some might have called it heroic or brave, but it basically was just the desperate last try of a man who saw himself already as the next layer of slime on the floor.
Yet I got lucky, it turned at the sudden movement after believing me out for good and accidentally put its vulnerable central eye directly into the way of my thrust.
The last thing I then remember is a bloodfreezing scream and warm liquid flowing over my battered body.
Next thing I know I awake back in the Inn we started from, three full days later.
It seems my mindless assault afterall distracted the monster long enough for Daron to grab me and teleport both of us out of there.
At first I didn't give the sword a name, but after some time the boys started to call it E'Sum'Kerym, Son's Blade, as allusion to my nickname and three Elfblades of Cormanthyr.
And that my son is the story of how I got this blade. Luckily it's no true moonblade and thus did not ignite me for my insolence, but it is still a powerful and ancient weapon. Some day it might pass on to you should you ever decided to take up arms, but for now you should hurry to bed before your mother finds out I let you stay up this long again."

Like most old elfes he still enjoys good health, though not even the protective magic of his mantle can hide his age.
Tarwas never was an eye catcher for an elf, but he seems to move with an unearthly grace and precision, honed by centuries of experience. The very same centuries that let his once black hair fade to white and carved fine lines around his eyes. Yet even if he would seek magic to remove those marks of time, his eyes would still betray him. While elven eyes often seem strangely old and wise in human perception, his also show a certain tiredness, dutyfully endured.

Tarwas is kind and polite, though he sometimes expects to much from other people leading to him being annoyed when they fall short. He once was somewhat reckless and fretfull for an elf and while age and experience have mostly taught him caution and made him a lot calmer, his venturesomeness sometimes still gets the better of him.
In recent years he also build up a lot of frustration about the state of the world, the renewed threat to the elven people and his home town as well as the fact that it all is mulcting him of his retirement. This made him somewhat grumpy and impatient.

Tarwas, E’Sum Tel Myth Drannor
Sun Elf Magus 15/Mythic 5, Level , Init +24, HP 165/165, Speed 30
AC 31, Touch 30, Flat-footed 21, Fort +19, Ref +22, Will +20, Base Attack Bonus 11
E'Sum'Kerym, Keen Evil-Outsiderbane Spellstoring Elven Thinblade + 4 28/28/23 (1d8+14, 15-20)
(+10 Dex, +2 Natural, +1 Deflect, +8 Misc)
Abilities Str 13, Dex 30, Con 16, Int 24, Wis 14, Cha 10
Condition None
Str 13
Dex 16 +2 level +4 mythic +2 elf +6 item =30
Con 15 +1 level -2 elf +2 item =16
Int 13 +3 age +2 elf +6 item =24
Wis 11 +3 age =14
Cha 7 +3 age =10

Black Blade:
E'Sum'Kerym, Keen Evil-Outsiderbane Spellstoring Moonblade +4
Int 17
Wis/Cha 13
Ego 22
Alertness, black blade strike, telepathy, unbreakable, Energy attunement, Teleport blade, Transfer arcana
Arcana Pool 4