Throne of Tyrants
a PC- Whisper
This mystical elf has a silver shade of skin and bright eyes.
Acrobatics, Insight, Intimidation, Perception, Stealth,
(feel free to add a picture or more)
(I don’t know if this picture works but I hope you like it)
Whisper had not grown up in the Five Kingdoms, but her parents had visited with her from time to time. She had traveled the land before; it hadn’t always looked like this.
She walked along the side of a river, a wall of sick white fog sitting at the bank of the river. Whisper noticed a twisted wolf with glowing eyes on a clifftop staring at her. She moved farther away. She remembered the land of Cyre, a country of musicians and inventors. Her stomach rumbled and she remembered how the traveling judges used to bring to food to all corners so nobody used to go hungry here. Now there is nothing but twisted magic, disease, and death.
On her first trip, she had traveled with a wandering judge. An old man in a breastplate wearing a purple cape. He traveled from village to village offering his services. He would record marriages and births, hear grievances, settle disputes, and mete out punishments. Always fairly, and while his customers were not always pleased with his judgment, they were always happy to have the extra food he brought from the kingdoms surplus. He would trade grains for meat, and meat for grains. He would bring foods and spices from far off lands a variety in even the most distant villages. Variety was treasured in Cyre, and as all the subjects provided, so too did the King
Those towns are gone now, songs no longer carried on the in wind. She gazed once again into the once welcoming land. Her stomach stopped growling when she saw the body of a man lying in the fog, soft light reflecting from the breastplate, the purple cape of a judge moving gently in the wind. His body untouched these four years gone.
The Day of Mourning indeed.