Appearance

Physical Description

Sorael is broad and has a well-defined musculature.

Mentality

Personal history

Sorael, of the Loamwalker tribe, was born on an auspicious
day. As his father, an archdruid and first amongst peers, fought off a shambling wall of lesser undead attacking their small home, his mother rushed through the pain, delivering Sorael, severing the cord, and after a scant minute’s rest, rushing outside to help Kalrias just as two dire bears and the attack’s mastermind entered the fray. Lilliara, a talented archer in her own right, was elevated above the battleground by Kalrias’s vines, allowing her clear line of sight to the hag that had long stalked her family line. A hail of arrows descended with pinpoint accuracy and even Malagasta couldn’t withstand the withering fire. She
fell, and a moment later Kalrias called a lightning strike that reduced her body to ash. The two wasted little time in finishing off the rampaging beasts before returning to their crying son.
 
The two cared deeply for their young son, doting on him as
he grew strong. His early childhood was filled with lessons on the nature of Exandra, the gods, and how to survive in the wilderness. When he was 15, his parents allowed him to begin mingling with the other children, and Sorael’s nature rapidly made itself apparent. Far from the dignified repose his father exuded or his mother’s stern grace, Sorael was as much beast as elf. Though he socialized well and easily with the other Loamwalker children, he enjoyed roughhousing, daredevil stunts, and making himself a nuisance to any adult who he crossed paths with.
 
When Kalrias and Lilliara were asked to reign in their son,
they waved the criticisms away as just a child’s freedom. When he was 50, Kalrias began teaching his son the druidic path. Sorael took to it quickly, especially the connection to other living things. As he began to learn magic, the boy could often be seen riding on befriended animals or talking to the more amicable sylphs of the woods. That didn’t stop Sorael from getting up to his usual cavorting – if anything, it became more chaotic as his playgroup was joined by whatever beasts he’d run into that day.
 
17 years later, Kalrias and Lilliara sat Sorael down and told him about Malagasta. A death hag who had been cursed, or blessed, with true immortality during the original Cataclysm, Lilliara’s ancient ancestor had
turned her into a foe. While the ancient fiend had any number of plots that she was embroiled in, she never wasted too much time before attempting to get vengeance on Lilliara’s line. They explained to Sorael the events on the day of his birth, and that they had in secret fought off another of Malagasta’s attacks several years before. In fact, the only reason she had been out of commission for so long was that when her corporeal body was entirely destroyed, it took a full decade for her to reform in the Abyss. Afterwards, she would wait to be summoned by some hapless fool, for she had propagated a series of summoning
tools throughout Exandra for just such contingencies.
 
His parents explained to him that he would need to be wary of the fiend’s foul tricks in the future, but that Malagasta would likely be
particularly incensed as Lilliara was with child again. Sorael, still not fully understanding, accepted the danger and boldly claimed that he would protect his new sibling. A year later, Navina was born, happy and healthy. Sorael instantly took to his new sister, spending much of his time at her crib. When he did meet up with the other youths, he’d often drag them to his home so that they could play within sight of Navina.
 
Malagasta’s next attack came almost 9 years later. Sorael awoke from his meditation and knew at once that something was awry – a foul presence had intruded upon his home. He rushed to Navina’s room at once, finding the fiend had just crawled through a hole that she had scratched through the living wood. Sorael opened his mouth to scream for help, but the ancient hag seemed to teleport across the room, such was her speed. He was barely able to dodge a blow that would have punctured his heart, but the claws still tore through his shoulder. He howled in pain, before a darkness took him.
 
It took Sorael 13 years to awaken. Malagasta’s claws had borne some vile malediction that had threatened to take his life at every step of the way, but his parents’ experience and power proved to be victorious. The
two used all of their resources and knowledge to not only keep the curse at bay, but to deliver a countermeasure that would eventually free him from the coma. Sorael was swept up in a mighty embrace by his parents and young sister, who had watched over him many of the nights he slept in his feverish dream.
 
From then, he and Navina were inseparable. Though she was 67 years his junior, she idolized him and he doted on her. Unlike her older brother, Navina was largely silent, though when she spoke, her words were full of weight. Largely with Sorael’s help, Navina was welcomed amongst the other Loamwalker youths.
 
When he was 174, Sorael was at last smitten romantically. A new family had joined the Loamwalkers, refugees from a forest far to the east who
spoke of dark tidings, as wars tore apart the landscape and battles spilled out of control, leveling villages and the countryside itself with equal ease. None of this registered with Sorael, as he could only stare slack-jawed at the family’s daughter, Yexa. It was love at first sight, though it would take years for him to be able to recognize it as such.
 
Sorael’s quiet life continued for another century with minimal interruptions, only punctuated by a handful of Malagasta’s schemes – though no other attacks since the one that had nearly killed him – and occasional conscription into patrols, hunting parties, and once, a raid on a caravan of humans that had desecrated a sylph’s home. Sorael never worked up the courage to confess his feelings to Yexa in their century of friendship, something he would come to regret all the more deeply.
 
On a quiet night in his 273rd year, not unlike any other, Sorael’s world was shattered forever. A horrific roaring yanked him from his meditation, and when he raced outside, the world seemed brighter than
during a sunny day. Red, green, purple, and orange light bathed the forest in lurid light as detonations erupted with deafening reports. Shrieking, as though Exandara itself were screaming in desperation, tore through the air as magic rent reality itself asunder. Sorael’s family stared at the scene with the same uncomprehending expressions, but Kalrias roused them soon.
 
They raced through the woods, the ancestral home of their tribe, searching for survivors and culprits. Lilliara, pregnant with a third child, remained at home. Sorael was the first to find the interlopers, clad in black garb with only mysterious symbols on their collars to identify them. He had joined up with a small group of tribesmen, and they descended upon the attackers with whooping cries, only for a screaming portal to rip apart reality and the villains to fall through it. Not even Sorael had the temerity to follow.
 
It took hours for the attack to exhaust itself, and in its aftermath, massive swathes of the forest were simply gone. Some areas had been
scorched to such a degree that the bedrock below was visible, the top layer crystallized by heat. In others, it was as if the life-force of the trees had been extinguished, and they had collapsed hollow and empty. Yet other areas had been rendered uninhabitable by some miasma that choked the air. At the end of it all, Sorael learned that Yexa’s family had been caught up in one of the blasts. The love of his youth disappeared that night, with a pain that Sorael feels like he can never recover from.
 
The cheerful boy was grim as the survivors huddled together in the clearing near his home, his father leading the conversation on rescue
efforts, as well as in trying to understand what had just happened to the Loamwalkers or who had perpetrated this massacre. Ultimately, they would learn that almost three-quarters of the tribe had perished that night, and Sorael swore to find the culprits behind the attack and bring them to justice.
 
The survivors had the same thought. For the next year, they used every tool at their disposal to track down their attackers before settling on Port Zoon. Every able-bodied survivor participated in their assault on the city, with the druids tearing the walls apart and a rush of entranced animals and Loamwalkers pouring through. Anyone who surrendered was spared, and civilians were ignored, but any guard who resisted was slain.
 
As the Loamwalkers fought through the city, Sorael found himself fighting a cleric of the Stormlord. Sorael pleaded with him to lay down
his arms, and after a short exchange where Sorael explained that the attack was only meant to hunt down the villains who had massacred the Loamwalkers, Cassius did just that. The young man was a noble scion, and when he had Sorael’s vow that the attack would cease after the ringleaders were brought to justice, led the elven attackers to the palace.
 
There, they had a mostly bloodless path to the city’s rulers, who were dragged from their thrones and made to answer Kalrias’s questions. Quickly, it was made clear that while the rulers weren’t directly affiliated with the mysterious attackers, their bureaucrats and ministers had taken bribes and concealed a mustering point for them. The villains hadn’t resided in Port Zoon for longer than three months as they gathered together various forces and artifacts before launching their attack.
 
While Sorael demanded the heads of the collaborators, Kalrias hushed the young elf and informed the rulers of what had transpired and left it to them to deliver whatever justice they thought appropriate. There was
an impromptu council in the throne room, and Sorael made the proclamation that he would be departing to track the mystery attackers and bring them to justice, no matter how far he’d need to travel or how long it would take. Kalrias and the others talked things through before agreeing to let Sorael go, when Cassius surprisingly volunteered to accompany him. He had been incensed at the news of the vile attack, and couldn’t stand by while such a group were surely up to other horrific conspiracies.
 
Together, the two set off. They quickly became fast friends, as both were boisterous and hearty. While the Stormlord was not Sorael’s patron deity, he still revered the god of battle and reveled within it. In turn, Sorael would often talk of Avandra, and how he had come to the realization that the world was heading towards another Cataclysm. The attack had been revelatory for the druid, showing him what horrors the world could unleash when there was civilization to support madmen. While Cassius didn’t share the goal of ending civilization and returning the people of the Exandra to nature, he did appreciate that Sorael’s true purpose was to bring peace, and to stop the ability of the powerful to wipe out countless innocents.
 
The two have been travelling together for 18 months now, solving local crises and lending their aid where they can. Together, they helped the villagers of Shadecrest fight off a small goblinoid attack. They’ve uncovered the corruption of a magistrate in the province of Guilemont, and they’ve helped escort a caravan of refugees fleeing the eastern wars. Throughout this, they’ve grown closer as friends and comrades-in-arms, but Sorael’s frustration grows (though he prefers not to show it) as the mysterious conspiracy lays just asfar out of reach.

Personality

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