Hetane Enowet
Hetane Enowet
Sylvan Sorcerer/Sylvan Trickster
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Lanky and Wiry
Body Features
Tribal Tattoos
Facial Features
Slightly baby faced.
Physical quirks
Grins a lot, especially when he's nervous.
Special abilities
Summoner and Crowd Control. Occasional Burst damage.
Apparel & Accessories
Rugged, primitive but sturdy and well-kept clothes. Doesn't mind getting dirty but takes every advantage of time to groom, repair and maintain himself and his posessions.
Mental characteristics
Gender Identity
Male
Sexuality
Heteroromantic/Asexual
In his native tribe, people (elves) did not become sexually active until after their first century, so he may just be a late bloomer.
Employment
Has worked for the last few years as a scout and guide at the keep and based out of New Hallow. Currently Hype guy and comic relief for a Gutsy Kobold and a haunted Rose with Thorns.
Failures & Embarrassments
Had to flee from his tribe. Has trouble fitting in. Occasional fits of rage trouble his self image as a smooth operator, devil-may care sellsword and skilled guide.
Mental Trauma
Nearly seeing his buddies die. Being banished. Losing his mother figure.
Intellectual Characteristics
Smart and outgoing, a bit of a chatterbox. Intensely curious, often to the detriment of self preservation.
Morality & Philosophy
A boisterous worshiper of CC, he sees the night at the inn after a day of ranging as his church service. A fine meal, a good ale and good company are the sacrament of these services. He loves storytelling, both as performer and audience.
He has a simple moral code: Don't be a dick.
He values loyalty, honesty, humor and passion. He dislikes selfishness, cruelty and tyranny.
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
Exploration and Curiosity drive Hetane more than anything. He feels his innate connection to the land and the past and desires to find some key to unlocking the mysteries of his past, present and future.
Savvies & Ineptitudes
Skilled guide and while untrained in scholarly ways, innately skilled in magic, religion, nature and survival. Puissant swordsman and innately talented conjurer. His magic is flashy and colorful, but manifests in natural ways.
Not very strong or robust, not the best of luck (poor saves) and often gets in over his head because he can be a bit reckless.
Likes & Dislikes
Likes: Bravery, Freedom, Learning, Exploration, Friendship, A Good Party (in both senses of the word)
Dislikes: Pushiness, Arrogance, Cruelty, Greed. The undead and necromancy make him extra squicky. Fears starvation and deprivation.
Virtues & Personality perks
Forthright, Brave, Loyal, Curious and Clever. Playful and humorous.
Vices & Personality flaws
A little self-centered. Covers up insecurity with bravado, can be hot-tempered. Mischievous and tricky
Personality Quirks
Grins when nervous.
Hygiene
Fairly meticulous, as the adventuring life allows.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Gugs
Elvar
Family Ties
None
Religious Views
Worshiper of Cayden
Social Aptitude
Reasonably proficient
Mannerisms
Boisterous and goood natured.
Hobbies & Pets
Neina Two-Toops, a sabertooth
Speech
Lilting and pleasant. North-accented common.
Wealth & Financial state
ha!
Character Location
Alignment
NG
Honorary & Occupational Titles
Guild Ranger
Age
21
Birthplace
The Vanaalwood
Children
Current Residence
New Hallow Alchemists Guild (Ranger Squad)
Gender
Male
Eyes
Grey
Hair
Sandy Blonde
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Bronze
Height
6'
Weight
185
Quotes & Catchphrases
I'd rather flee with you than from your corpses!
"Put down your weapons or you get the Cat!"
Remove these ads. Join the Worldbuilders Guild
Where I am at for next session
Used 2 L2 Spell
Used 3 L1 Spell
HP 38
AC
42 Rounds Mage Armor
43 Rounds Cat's Grace
Nina 11 Rounds Magic Fang
The Mnemonic Mystery Mollified Momentarily
The townsfolk of New Hallow are a gregarious lot, normally. We were all, in some small way looking forward to returning to the little hamlet we'd called home for these recent months, so it was a bitter susprise when we encountered trains of refugees fleeing from the town outside the nearby village of Wildholde. In addittion to recent raids and skirmishes with the feyfolk and our old adversary <insert Dryad's name here> the townsfolk seemed beleaguered by an endemic amnesia. Many familiar faces looked upon our trio as if we were strangers, never encountered before.
Investigating this phenomena, we found ourselves knocking on the door of the local church of <insert Deity name here> in Wildeholde, a partially walled town bigger than New Hallow but no metropolis to be sure. The new priest there had been aiding our former neighbors with food and drink and solace, we learned. So we set off to "thank" him. He was cagey and dismissive, so we returned later with a little churchwarming gift. First we scouted the premises, detecting troublesome emanations of evil forces. So we decided the best thing we could do for him was throw him a surprise party and make sure we rid the church of any desecration, like undead or evil.
He seemed less than grateful, so we offered to do some remodeling, deciding we might need to burn the place to the studs. With some well placed demolition charges from Gugs, some percussive bodily maintenance by Elvar and some quick remodeling (I put in a "conversation" pit in his basement den) by yours truly, we managed to make him more pliant and cooperative. Unfortunately we may have broken him in the process. Time will tell what our next moves are.
First to find out if we've frogmarched the forgetfulness, ambulated the amnesia and freed the foggybrains of our fellow townsfolk and then perhaps to return to New Hallow to wreak our vengeance against the overstepping Fey.
Reflections at Whithorn
Exploring the undercommons on the behest of the Academicians, we located and breached the home of an ancient magician. A frightening place, long neglected by time, this dark corner of the world held secrets and danger. Immediately a darkness most foul fell upon the whole place and Elvar took a crackling lightning bolt to the dome. We proceeded onward to methodically explore this ancient home. The lost spirits of the servants still haunted the place, traps dogged our every steps and a mimic nearly ended us when we attempted to open the wrong chest., yet we emerged weary and victorious.
The encounter drained our resources and left us hurt and concerned for our wellbeing but when we attempted to rest within the treasure chamber, we heard noises that indicated that we were not alone. However, it turned out to be but some opportunistic and scavenging smallfolk, so after chasing them off and recovering the gems they attempted to steal, we tried to rest again.
Each watch was haunted by ghostly whispers and auditory hallucinations. We woke tired and somewhat unsettled, but more determined than ever to carry on, hoping to find the remaining gems to unlock the inner sanctum, as well as perhaps silencing the source of the strange haunting noises.
We encountered and defeated a shadowy form, saved once again by Gugs' amazing marksmanship with those diabolical little party favors he calls "bombs" and Elvar's brave resolve in standing toe-to-toe with the eldritch beast. In defeat, the creature proved to have been the source of the ungodly whispers, and we moved on, our stores of holy water and such depleted but our cameraderie and bravery lighting the way.
Recovering the last stone from the kitchen, we hurried our way (after a thorough yet expeditious check for hidden secrets) to the door of the inner sanctum. We might have been better off second guessing our obdurate bravery (or as Tawn sometimes thinks of it: foolhardiness) and leaving that accursed place, never to return. Instead, we burst through the door and encountered one of the most horrific creatures we had yet to face as a group.
A skeletal caster of unholy magic made mewling frightened kittens of our front lines within moments of opening the door. His presence was an offence to the gods we worship. An undead priest, perhaps, dedicated to the god Nethys (as we later learned) yet embodying only pure evil, not the practical, good side of that major power of magic.
Learning that it could be wounded, Tawn yelled to his compatriots: "It might not bleed and it might not be alive, but it feels like you can stick stuff in it"
Playing a futile game of cat and mouse with this foul servant of Nethys, who used the very shadows as a cloak for his evil presence, we finally cornered it and through a helacious group effort, put it down to what we hope is its final rest. We gathered what we could carry of value and returned to report what we had found. In the library where we fought it, we discovered an amazing and world-altering secret. The world as it is in our day, was not always so and a cataclysmic event in the not-too-distant past had shaped the very lands where we dwelt and forever altered what had seemed to be a bucolic and peaceful world. An ancient civilization once lived in these parts and perhaps the dreams that have plagued us have something to do with both this apocalyptic event and the ruins we now know must be hidden in the mosslocks.
Tawn's curiosity burns. He wants the party to take their horse and cart back to New Hallow to stage the next expedition asap, but he also recognizes that embarking on this journey ill-prepared might be the same as threading a noose around our very own necks.
The Academy was gracious and generous in sharing its knowledge and identifying our magic items, and Tawn recovered a ring which he dearly loves, seemingly attuned to his very fey nature. He has learned a few new Eldritch tricks and is eager to deploy them in the name of Cayden.
His caution with Neina, training her ceaselessly and trying to keep her in a mode of self-preservation and caution has paid off and she is now a formidable companion in her own right. He has armored her, and the group stands ready to depart the halls of Whithorn for adventure, perhaps more prepared than ever.
The sun will rise upon a fellowship with many grave choices to make. Hopefully they won't put this fellowship into an early grave.
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