Klyd Pheilung

Klyd Pheilung is a lizardfolk from the swampy marshlands of Slindir, on the coast of Giant's Fall Lake. Much like other lizardfolk, Klyd maintains primalistic instincts, and is a natural hunter. But a chance encounter with a wandering scholar in his youth led Klyd down a path which caused him to question his tribe, the ways of the lizardfolk, and create ambition within himself that was never before heard of amongst his people.

Physical Description

General Physical Condition

Very tall, and physically fit. Not overly burly or muscular, but comparably so to most other races. 

Body Features

The more attuned Klyd becomes with his arcane powers, the more his skin changes. As a youth, his skin and scales shown a light green color. Currently, at age 26, Klyd's exterior is a dark, charcoal-gray with orange accents on his back. His underbelly is still light green in many spots, however. 

Mental characteristics

Personal history

Klyd Pheilung was birthed in a traditional lizardfolkian community, and had a natural upbringing according to the customs and traditions of the Slindir tribe. He was raised to become a skilled hunter, mastering the art of tracking prey and sneaking up on a kill. But even at a young age, Klyd felt something different within himself. He felt oddly unsatisfied, unfulfilled, even bored. He wanted something more.
When he was 11 years old, Klyd ventured out one evening after his clan had bedded down for the night. Full of curiosity and bravery, young Klyd grabbed a small handaxe and began following the road south. Under the cover of dusk and with the hood of his cloak pulled over his head, he stuck to the shadows and the overgrowth. The road twisted and wound, the night air warm and humid. Klyd paused a moment to silently adjust the leather belt around his waist, and to stop and listen to the still of the night. It was then that he heard a *crack* and a *snap*.

Young Klyd Pheilung

Kyld looked to his left in the direction of the noise, and saw a figure approaching him slowly, cautiously. He raised one hand as if to indicate his cautious approach, while the other gripped a slightly curved wooden cane. He spoke words that Klyd did not understand (friend, I mean you no harm), and used a soft, slow, unassuming tone. His voice was a touch hoarse, indicating his advanced age. In a moment, he produced a small, floating orb, a soft dark blue color, appearing above the palm of his right hand. When Klyd did not respond to his words or his production of the dancing lights spell, the man stopped. He looked at Klyd a moment in the waning light, and saw a young reptilian boy with a mix of terror and wonderment burned into his face. The man began speaking in a strange tongue that Klyd understood plain as day.
"Traveler, what are you doing out here in these dangerous parts at this hour, alone?" The man's voice showed genuine concern and empathy, he showed no intention of harm towards Klyd. His voice was kind and soft.
Klyd stood frozen in place. He was in awe of the floating orb of blue before him, and at the strange man that somehow was speaking his language. He should be attacking him. He has been trained and conditioned to defend himself and eliminate outsiders, especially only a few miles outside of his tribal lands. But he felt no ill will towards this man, no hostility, and oddly, a sense of calm. When Klyd finally spoke, his voice was soft. "How...how do you know...the language of my people?"
The man expressed the tiniest of smiles. "I know a great many things. And I can tell that you, too, are a curious one. Why else would you be out here, all alone at this hour?" As he spoke, he approached Klyd very slowly and carefully. Klyd did not move. The man was old, human, and hunched a bit. His face was wrinkling, his hair white and unkempt, a long beard about his face. He walked with a cane, likely for stability on the uneven terrain of the woodland surfaces.
Klyd stood frozen in place, not sure how to respond. He was entirely overcome with the novelty of the encounter. His snout hung slightly agape as he pondered the true motives of the man whom he had accosted in the wild at this late hour. His grasp tightened on his handaxe, as he considered the situation. The man again spoke, with the same tranquility and welcoming tone as before.
"I have a small cottage just south of here, come with me, we can start a fire, I'll brew you a cup of tea." He waved his hand in an ushering motion towards himself, and turned his back to Klyd and slowly began walking. Klyd stood in place, as if roots from the forest floor had taken hold of him and he was held fast. The old man, after several paces, turned and looked over his shoulder and said, "come, friend, my cardomemmon tea is divine." With that, Klyd felt the proverbial roots loosen, and he began following the old man.

An old man traveling near Slindir

They traveled in silence together through a beaten-down path in the wood, about 30 paces off the main road. It was as if the man had been this way many times before. He knew where to bob and weave, which branches to carefully step over. After about a half hour of walking through the wood, the path began to thicken, and soon came into a denser section of the wood. The man hunched over some, he spoke in the lizard tongue, advising Klyd to stay low. They carefully navigated overgrown brush and tree branches, thickets and briars. At long last, the path opened into a small clearing, surrounded by woods on all sides. Sure enough, a small cottage sat in the middle, with the light of a dimly lit lantern showing through a window near the door.
"We're here," the man said, as he opened the door, and waved Klyd inside. They went in, and the man put a bit of small-cut timber on to a dying fire. With a metal rod, he prodded the logs until a few moments later, a small fire returned. He placed a grate across the pit, and set a pot of water atop it. After a few moments, the water began to boil, and he produced two wooden mugs. The man carefully poured the water into each of the mugs, along with very thinly woven bags with herbs inside that he placed in the water. Klyd sat and watched all of this intently. He had never seen somebody make tea before, albeit a very simple process. With a small, smooth stick, the man gently poked and submerged the bag of tea down into his mug. He handed Klyd the stick, urging him to do the same. Klyd took the stick, and examined it. He mimicked the man's actions, and watched as the clear water slowly began to turn a light shade of brown.
"Try it", the man said, as he picked up his mug and drank first. Klyd carefully grabbed the mug and mimicked the sipping motion the man had taken. The heat of the liquid took him by surprise at first, but then the floral notes of the tea took over. His eyes widened as he swallowed the tea, and he made a face somewhere between disgust and surprise. The man chuckled. "I suppose if you've never had it, it's a bit of an acquired taste." Klyd carefully put the mug down, and sat quietly, his tongue now dancing with the flavors of things that should be left to grow in the ground.
The man sat and talked with Klyd for several hours. At first, Klyd spoke little, only a few words. But he began to open up as time went on. He told the man about his tribe and their ways, and the man told Klyd that he had at one point earlier in his life "wielded magic" under a great warlord with a massive fortress. The man lamented the fact that his life was likely in it's twilight. He let Klyd know that he wished he had one last great pursuit before he passed on to meet the gods. Klyd, feeling emboldened by this sentiment, humored the man.
"You could teach me. I want to learn." His face was as earnest and genuine as a lizardman's could be, and the man recognized this.
"It will be no small task, my boy," the man said. "You will need to open your mind completely and totally, allow yourself to embrace a part of yourself beyond the primal urges you've been trained to listen to."
"I know this. I am ready for more. I grow tired of the ways of my people. I feel different, like I am built for more than hunting, killing, eating, and sport. I am ready. For more."
The man sighed a deep sigh, and a genuine smile came across his face. "Then we will meet here in my cottage in the evenings, and I will teach you what I can."
And so they did. Klyd would sneak off at night and visit the old man at his cottage. He did so carefully, as he knew that befriending and showing kindness to an outsider, especially a human, was outlawed amongst his tribe. To the Slindirians, humans were viewed as interlopers; defilers of nature and a blight on the world. Even still, Klyd had found a comfort in the new relationship he had formed with the man who was teaching him the inner workings of the arcane arts. He learned about the ambient energies of the world, and how to manipulate them. The man spoke of developing a pact with a higher power, one with which to draw his power and inspiration from. It did not take Klyd long to embrace what the man was teaching him, he was performing simple cantrips in a very short period of time. The old man was very surprised, so much so that he even suggested that perhaps Klyd was blessed with the blood of a powerful magical bloodline. Klyd couldn't see how this was possible, but there was an innate magical talent within him that could not be denied.

The old man's cottage, several miles south of Slindir

Things were progressing well for young Klyd. His talents were still very raw, but he had a working knowledge of the arcane arts, and his ceiling was seemingly limitless. It was a rainy, humid evening during the harvest season a year later when Klyd again set out after sundown. He traveled his usual path, through the thicket and then to the clearing where the man's cottage was. When Klyd entered the clearing, the cottage was dark. He could tell something was amiss. As he approached the cottage, he did so cautiously. He slowly opened the front door, trying to minimize the creak it produced. When he finally stepped inside, there on the floor laid the old man in a pool of his own blood, lifeless. Klyd no sooner could open his mouth to gasp when two spear tips were thrust to opposite sides of his neck and stopped, digging in just enough to cause trickles of blood to run down his scaly neck. "Not a step further", came a familiar voice, the voice of the chieftain of his tribe.
Klyd was trapped; caught. The chieftain circled around to face Klyd, his speartip following on his neck. "Explain yourself", came the serious command.
"How could you?" Klyd said, angrily. "You don't know what you've done!"
"Oh, lokkharric, you are lost beyond your ways," the chieftain said, referring to Klyd in their native tongue. The other spear pushed harder into Klyd's neck; he groaned as blood now streamed slowly from the wound. "I'm afraid you've become too tainted to call yourself a proper Dahhk'himrric anymore." As the chieftain prepared to thrust his spear into Klyd's throat, in an instant, Klyd reached up and snatched the chieftain's guard by the hand, gave a mighty twist, and he spun to the ground, dropping his grasp on his spear. Klyd effortlessly snatched the spear up, and drove it straight into the guards stomach, leaving it there. He took a step back, and faced his chief.
"I was trying to become something more than a simple beast," Klyd said, anger burning under his skin. Rage built inside him and a fire grew like he hadn't ever felt before. The chieftain stood and his eyes grew wide as he watched young Klyd changing before him; his skin was changing from its normal light green shade to a dark charcoal gray with orange tinges. The pilea on the top of Klyd's head became razor sharp, and he held his open palms in the direction of the chieftain. Before the chieftain could react, flames erupted from Klyd's hands and smothered the chieftain (and the old man's cottage, as well). Klyd let forth a hellacious yell, as if possessed by a power from another dimension. He had never in his life felt such pure, unadulterated rage, set forth in a concentrated burst like he had at that moment.
The chieftain fell to the ground, completely engulfed in flames, and writhed around in agony, as the cottage erupted in flames. Klyd, still seething with rage, took his axe and buried it in the flaming chief's neck. Realizing what he had done, and the soon to be incinerated house he was standing in, Klyd ran out the door and took off into the night. Surely the rains will put the fire out eventually, he thought. Klyd ran and kept going, far away from his tribe. He had foresaken the ways of his people and sought to never return to their tribe or any other like it.
Days, weeks, and months past, and then years. Klyd became a wanderer, traveling across Central Hasdall, fending for himself. He never forgot that year of training with the old man near Slindir, and the door to the world of arcana that he had opened for him. Klyd hadn't learned all that he wanted, but he mastered that which he was taught, sure to never forget the old man's teachings.
Klyd had a difficult road before him, an outsider in a new land, viewed as a beast and a monster by many. He learned very small bits of the common tongue from training with the old man, enough that he was able to piece together sentences that (sometimes) made sense. In his travels, Klyd came across a few accepting individuals who would hire him to perform menial tasks. Whether out of fascination with the lizardman, or genuine acceptance, he was able to make a small bit of coin, enough to sustain himself. But the one thing Klyd could not find that he so badly sought was somebody who was willing to teach him more of his arcane craft.

Klyd Pheilung embracing his innate arcane abilities

Klyd struggled with the old man's death, more than he struggled with being exiled from his tribe. He would have nightmares many nights, and struggled with dark thoughts that clouded his mind. He began to feel a certain darkness creep into his head, a particular feeling of disorder and chaos, whenever he would think about that night. Many times, Klyd felt he had reached a roadblock with his arcane growth. He did not know how to become more powerful, or further his abilities. He began to think of a time when he felt most powerful, when he was at his darkest and most desperate; he started drawing his power from these feelings of anger and rage and chaos in his mind. Klyd had convinced himself that to further his craft, he needed to embrace the higher power that personified these ideals; the god that the common folk called Maele. While Klyd did not strive to perform outright acts of evil, he sought these dark thoughts and channeled his fire from the events of that night when he called upon the powers of the arcane. He had learned to call upon his powers by harnessing a dark memory. He had developed his pact with a higher power.
Klyd spent more years traveling the lands, gradually heading east. He learned to call upon his arcane powers at will, and he also came across a few helpful folks along the way who showed him a few pointers and techniques to use in combat. At one point in time, Klyd believed that his family and his tribe was the most important thing to him. He still believed that, with all his heart. But he didn't have anybody to call his family anymore. He had been cast away, and he was shunned by so many others simply for being different. He still held on to his ideals he had learned from his tribe: strength, self sufficience, and the sanctity of nature. Those things will never change within Klyd, they are ingrained too deeply. But without a tribe of people just like him, who will he ever call his family? Will he ever feel acceptance again?

Education

Received one year of training and education from an old man who became his friend.

Mental Trauma

The betrayal of his tribe for befriending a human. Seeing the man that became his friend and his teacher lay dead at the hands of his own kind. The exile by his chieftain for "disowning" his people.

Morality & Philosophy

At his core, Klyd believes in doing good. He is conflicted with the dark thoughts that cloud him from his friend and teacher's death in his youth. This event has led him to accept some questionable ideologies, and at times be led astray from how he might think and act otherwise. 

Personality Characteristics

Motivation

He has always felt like he was more than just a simple lizardfolk, that he was destined for more. Klyd's tapestry is a sprawling canvas to be carefully and meticulously painted through adventures yet to come...

Alignment

Chaotic Good

Current Status

Wandering the lands, heading east across Central Hasdall

Date of Birth

13 Vars

Year of Birth

2116 AD 26 Years old

Circumstances of Birth

Ordinary birth according to customs of the lizardfolk of the Slindir tribe.

Birthplace

Slindir

Sex

Male lizardfolk

Eyes

Orange, reptilian

Hair

Hairless

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Dark gray with orange accents

Height

6'8"

Weight

230lbs

Belief/Deity

Maele Semuyana

Known Languages

Lizardman, common (broken)