Known fully as 'Nind Vel'uss Tahcaluss whol nind ehmtu siltrin' or 'They Who Hunger for Their Own Flesh'
An elfin warrior from a fallen house.
Banished from their foolish tree-hugger kin, the Plains Elves were forced into a semi-nomadic lifestyle.
Once one of their number, the eternal outcast wishes to take from the Elves what they hold dearest - their dreams, their past, their future.
The forgotten realm
Named Timberwings; for the girth and strength of their wings were as elder oaks, thick and tireless
Out of simple roots, a deep faith.
motto of the Brotherhood of Orildus
Standing at the prow of the ship, Ashala rejoiced at the strong winds catching her midnight-black hair - flapping it like a pennant. The dark clouds ahead would have filled other seafarers with dread. Not Ashala. The dark clouds and wicked winds were an invitation, a challenge.
"Steady as she goes!" she shouted over her shoulder to the shipmaster, "To the Eye!"
Gauranteed to protect you from nightmares, hexes, and the diseases of the loins
The village sits on the edge of the deep fjord, often engulfed in mist or rain. Its people are fishermen, who work even through the sea-ravaging winter. And they pray to the gods of the deep.
At the beginning of every winter they hold a summoning ceremony. Three boats are taken out into the fjord, a hornsman on each. The mournful horns are blown in the language of the whales, the gods of the deep. The whales sometimes appear in answer to these calls, and it is taken as a good omen when they do.
To a party of PCs wandering the misty hills and valleys nearby however, the doleful whalesong of the horns can be disturbing and misinterpreted...