Anandi

Lady Anandi Golodhamindil, Watchwarder of the Lower Isles General Physical Description: Female, 5’7” tall, 115 lbs, appears high elven, long blonde hair – usually pulled up in an elaborate hairstyle, almond shaped blue eyes, pale skin, pointy ears, strong yet delicate features Class – High Nobility –Wild Mage (just reached 7 th level) Theme song – Wild One Last quote – Oh gods, the lout has a brother?! The dark clouds of deep slumber faded away as Anandi woke again to consciousness. Relieved that her realistic dreams had ended, she breathed a calming routine her aunt had taught her as a child to control her fears of being kidnapped and murdered like the other children in line to the Southern Islands throne. It had been many years since she had seen her human mother, barbarian princess that she was, or her elven father, or any of her brothers or sisters. When the Clan Wars erupted in the Southern Kingdom she and her siblings were scattered amongst their elven relatives to be raised in safety until they came of age to marry. She wondered if any of the others also possessed the talent for wild magic that seemed second nature to her. She kept her eyes closed, feeling the cold hard stone floor of the cave through her blanket. The chill permeated her tired muscles and she wished for the hundredth time that she was back in her uncle’s house in her very comfortable bed surrounded by thick quilted down comforters, her head layered in pillows covered with the softest elven linens. As it always happened when she dreamt of her childhood home, pangs of homesickness pulled at her. She missed her aunt and uncle, the only family she really remembered. They always treated her as a daughter and indulged her wishes while ensuring her safety. They denied her nothing. She was given everything she wanted and lived a quietly provincial life in the beautiful and peaceful elven lands in Delving Dale. They encouraged her penchant for magic from the time she learned to read and discovered that she could naturally read the runes and symbols that most mages needed to cast a spell to do. They even found a psionicist who taught her to control the acidic palm sweats that used to start when she was nervous or scared. Her uncle fed her imagination with tales of heroes, legends, and lost treasures, doting on her and hiring mages as personal tutors for her ever increasing abilities. The library in her uncle’s castle was filled with books on obscure arcana, foreign languages, and exotic creatures. Her aunt equally supported her education in the arcane arts, as long as it was balanced with her training as a proper lady, and believed her gifts to be blessing from Selune, Goddess of Magic. They even went so far as to purchase membership for her in the local mage’s guild. The memory of that smarted a little now that she knew how hard other mages had to work to prove their worthiness to the guildmasters before acceptance in the guild. Life had been easy. Two years ago when she turned 21 everything changed. She inherited a country manor called Alpinemead, outside of Raven’s Bluff, from one of her mother’s brothers and found at the same time she was betrothed and expected to travel to the southern islands to consummate this political marriage. Supported by her guardians, Anandi decided to travel first to her new estate with the eventual intention to continue to her mother’s homelands, and take up her mantle at court. She was accompanied by a trusted servant, Bartok, and set off for her first adventure. On the boat to Raven’s Bluff, she met Bernhart Thistledown, a strange little gnome hairdressser/valet, who eventually became her dearest friend (although she will never admit that to him) and herald. Finding that her manor was overrun with wights, wraiths, ghouls, and zombies and established as a home base for an evil lord, DeKay the Black Knight, Anandi (et al) took refuge with a local baron, the liege lord for Alpinemead, Sir Cordan Talasian. Cordan led a group of heroes known as the Defenders of the Virgin Princess, although Anandi never quite believed either claim. Despite continuing perils to eliminate the evil from her manor and the surrounding barony, she was forced to give up the battle after Bartok’s death, sold her furnishings and headed away from Raven’s Bluff, accompanied only by Bernhart. They stopped briefly at a little roadside temple and short time later found themselves teleported to another dimension, this world. He says it was her wild magic gone awry, she knows it was due to his robbing the temple of the few coins left in the alms box. Since then it seemed they had done nothing but travel across this island from cave to cave. She signed inwardly and wondered if they would ever find a way back to civilization, any civilization. Smells and sounds washed over her in the darkness and she knew that she was still in this strange alien world, so similar in appearance to her own, and yet so different in many ways. Outside, the wind whistled through and around the mountains, sending small gusts to lift the edges of her blanket and adding a new level to her discomfort. The air was significantly colder up here than in the swamp she had traveled in just yesterday, and her nose and eartips were numbed. But the air was clean and crisp with the slight taste of salt from the nearby ocean reminding her of her townhouse apartment in Raven’s Bluff and providing some spiritual refreshment from the musty and misty dragon’s lair they had left hundreds of feet below the earth’s surface. This cave was small and shallow, seven feet wide by seven feet high and ten feet deep, much too cramped for five people to share, even if one of them was a gnome. Bernhart, the aforementioned gnome, was sitting in the rear of the cave on his palanquin mound of treasure even now, practically dripping with platinum and gold pieces. She could hear the coins tinkling with every move he made. Geased Descot (the only other noble born travelling with her) and Andrus the lout, hovered beside him and the lout’s thief of a brother Makris. They had a small fire going in the rear of the cave for warmth and a little light for the humans. They were examining a piece of treasure obtained recently from the green dragon’s lair, a pearl coffer decorated with sculptured metallic dragons and cryptic runes that they hoped would free Descot. She could hear the muffled morning prayers of the cleric Narie, who despite her very frightening appearance in black plate dragon armor, was a gentle soul, and her only female companion. Anandi’s acute hearing, obtained from her father’s elven heritage, enabled her to perceive much of the low conversation in the rear of the cave. They were trying to break the riddles that locked the coffer’s magic with their limited combined intelligence. As if they had a chance to do it without her. They couldn’t even translate the runes until she showed them how. She didn’t think they could do any permanent harm but it was best that they be on their way as soon as possible, before anything untoward happened She opened her eyes and sat up, twisting from side to side to stretch her cramped back and neck muscles. Fully awake, she reached beside her to the silver shod wooden staff that never left her side. She moved it away from the wall while she pulled out her other gear from beneath the edges of the blanket and makeshift pillow and replaced them in the sheaths built into her belts and garments. Throwing knives for each bootleg and glove, daggers at her hips, wand in her belt on the left, magic sling in her belt on the right, belt pouch with magic bullets next to the sling. She tied a red sash around her waist to further conceal the belt from view. She ran a hand over her finely woven blue woolen breeches searching for rips and wear marks that might need repair. Her silken hose and drawers were fine (she had examined them in more privacy the previous day) as was the creamy yellow leather of her soft boots and matching gloves. The white linen of her chemise would not be heavy enough to keep her comfortable travelling in this cool higher atmosphere, so she withdrew the embroidered purple velvet doublet from her pack and slid it on over the blouse, doing up the gold buttons for a formed fit. She stood up and separated her sleeping blanket from her magical robe. She shook it out and put it on, the golden sigils seeming to move on their own across the deep indigo fabric. It held together by three golden clasps across her chest and flared out from her waist in skirted panels that provided protection without encumbering her movements. No matter what she wore underneath it was always a perfect fit. The sleeves flared at the cuff and provided plenty of room for the full shirtsleeves and gloves. She pulled out the gold caul to hold her braided hair, and her favorite sapphire earrings that matched the color of her eyes. She was sure that Bernhart would have some ribbons to complement her outfit. Lastly, she picked up her makeshift pillow, the protection cloak her uncle had given her, and scanned it for any pulls or loose threads that might need adjustment. The hooded cloak was soft gray wool with a silver silken lining and trimmed with silver fox fur, its only adornment was the quality of its manufacture. She folded it and placed it gently on the cave floor by the staff at her feet, ready to be picked up on the way out. Anandi packed her sleeping gear, placing wards against bedbugs, spider, and other unpleasant things. She meticulously examined the perishables in her pack so they didn’t have another incident like Makris did when they first arrived at the cave. She reached in and withdrew one of her favorite travelling items, the magical enamel cup that produced a hot cup of tea when she said the magic word “brew”. The tea could be flavored or sweetened as she wished with no detriment to the magic. She always felt marvelous after her morning cup. Next she examined her spellbooks for damage and reapplied the wards to them as well. After her things were repacked she cast her daily personal hygiene cantrips that cleaned her and her clothes to an acceptable level, repaired any small tears in her hems or seams and applied a fresh flowery scent to her person. Although, she thought, none of these preparations took the place of a real hot bath, with perfumed oils and scented towels and servants to massage her woefully neglected skin. Cleaned and refreshed, she called to Bernhart to fix her hair. They would be flying today and she had no intention of showing the effects of sun and wind. While his brushes stroked her long silvery blonde tresses, she supped her tea and ate one of the few remaining delicate morning cakes that she had thoughtfully put in her backpack instead of the wagon from Raven’s Bluff. It was almost like being home, for a little while at least.