Zandril Siska's page

Even before the crew drops the gang plank from the merchant ship, The Bearded Harpy, a young Varsian male half-elf throws his backpack over his shoulder and jumps to the dock below. ”Back home at last! And just in time for the festival too.” He tips his hat to the crew tieing off the ship (whom just smile and shake their head at the young man) and walks down the Sandpoint Harbor docks . . .

Zandril Siska was born in Magnimar. His father, whom he’d never met, is an elf from the Ashwood. The story his mother, Eulana, told him was simply that she was young, working as a waitress in a tavern in the Marshes district in Magnimar and in walked this handsome elven ranger. He caught her eye immediately and her his. He was charming, she was young, it was one night, and the next day he was gone. The only thing she remembered about him was that he was from the Ashwood and he had a tattoo of a compass rose with elven writing around the edges on the inside of his right forearm. When asked what it said, he just waved her off and changed the subject. Nine months later she gave birth to twins, Zandril and Zhenya.

For the first nine and a half years of his life, he was part of a loving happy family in Magnimar until one night when this all changed. It was a typical late summer night, a light breeze in the air and the three of them were dancing as they listened to the music from a nearby tavern. In a moment their laughter turned to terror as three armed men broke down the door and entered. Zandril was too young and scared to remember much from the attack. What he does remember was the man with the scar on his right cheek kept asking, ”Where’s the jade statue? I know it’s here. Vhiski told me it was here.” When his mother insisted she didn’t know what they were talking about, the scarred man ran his estoc through her and left it embedded in her torso. The three men trashed the house and quickly realized they had the wrong place. Determined not to leave empty handed they grabbed Zhenya and left. Zandril attempted to keep them from leaving, his instinct to protect his sister, but all he got was a boot to the face. Crying, defeated, and scared, he went to his mother and pulled the sword out. He found the local guard, showed them the sword and took them to his mother’s body. After a fruitless investigation, the city guard came up with nothing and decided to put him in an orphanage, but Zandril wouldn’t have it. He decided to leave Magnimar, not caring where he would end up, he found the first caravan that would take him, his only possessions were the clothes on his back and the sword that killed his mother.

The caravan’s first stop was Sandpoint. The caravan leader sent him to find a retired paladin of Shelyn, Father Adeline. Father Adeline took Zandril in and raised him as his own son. Father Adeline is a patient man, and instilled Shelyn’s teachings of love and compassion for everyone and everything, as well as the important of protecting those that can’t protect themselves. Father Adeline, being an excellent swordsman (even in his aging years) taught Zandril how to use the weapon he carried and the code to live by, but try as he might, Zandril’s restless nature fought against Father Adeline’s disciplined teachings that come with being a Paladin and he often found himself in trouble.

As Zandril got older Father Adeline suggested he find some work to help him focus that energy. The fast pace of the docks drew his attention. He spent much of his time working with various merchants, and ship captains doing grunt work loading and unloading the merchant vessels. Though he is a hard worker, he often had a hard time keeping employment, especially from those employers with daughters his own age. After work he’d wander into The Hagfish to listen to the seafarers spin their tales of adventure, the next tale always more exciting than the previous. Watching the patrons goad each other to drink from Norah’s tank always got a good laugh, until one of the patrons filled a glass of the foul water and handed it to Zandril. The smell alone made him gag, but refusing to back down Zandril took a big drink . . . and immediately threw it back up, and everything else he’d eaten and drank that day. A raucous laughter echoed from The Hagfish, but it seemed like the regular patrons treated Zandril with a bit more respect after that and he always took up the challenge when offered a glass (the result always the same as the previous). Listening to the tales fueled Zandril’s need for adventure, and at the age of 19 he got a seafaring job as a deckhand on one of the merchant ships, The Bearded Harpy, a job he still holds today. He’s grown to love the travel and adventure, but the death of his mother and his missing sister still remains unresolved and lingers in the back of his mind. He had all but forgotten the name Vhiski until a couple years ago when he overheard someone in The Hagfish mention the name. When confronted, the man who mentioned the name denied knowing anything or anyone by the name of “Vhiski.” Ever since that day, Zandril has been secretly researching the underworld activity of Varisia, working on bringing his mother’s murderer to justice and the hope to one day find his sister.

. . .As the young man, backpack in hand, walks from the Bearded Harpy down the dock to The Hagfish he takes in the light off-shore breeze and the sun on his face as he enjoys being back home on this late-summer day. He walks into the tavern and gives a nod to Jargie Quinn, who smiles and nods down the bar toward an elderly man at the other end. Zandril nods and puts up a finger to Quinn as he walks down and lovingly clasps his hand on Father Adeline’s shoulder and sits down next to him.

Father Adeline smiles, ”Welcome home. Back just in time for the festival.”

Quinn brings a tankard of ale down and sets it in front of Zandril who takes a slow sip, ”Ahhh, not much tastes as good as that first sip after returning home.” Staring forward out the bar window overlooking the harbor, ”Thanks, it’s good to be home . . and to see you. I wouldn’t miss the festival for the world.”

Father Adeline, still smiling and satisfied his son made it home, stands up, finishes his ale, and starts out the door, ”Glad you made it home safe. It’s good to see you too.” He pauses at the door and turns around, the smile has left, his face now showing genuine concern, ”You’re staying out of trouble, aren’t you?”

Zandril leans back on his barstool, hands out wide, and big smile on his face, ”Don’t I always!?!” But his smile and boisterous happy-go-lucky attitude can’t hide that there’s something deeper nagging at him, at least not from Father Adeline.

Zandril’s smile is infectious and, though worried about his son, Father Adeline can’t help himself but grin, ”By the way, you need to bath. You smell worse than Norah!” With that he walks out the door waving, ”See you at home.”

Zandril laughs and turns back to his tankard and view of the docks. He sips his ale slowly collecting his thoughts and wondering what his future holds.

A slender male half-elf stands before you at 5’9” and 145 lbs. He wears a simple cloak, sailor’s hat, has a backpack slung over one shoulder, and a long thin blade the length of a bastard sword on his hip. His calloused hands and lightly tanned skin reflects his work as a deckhand on a merchant ship. His broad smile and deep hearty laugh is infectious and his presence can’t help but bring a smile to the face of even the most distressed. He’s always got a smile on his face and a kind word for everyone he meets. To those that don’t know him, they’d probably think him naive. Behind that outward, joyful appearance is a touch of darkness. The restless ghosts of a past that poke and prod at his mind.