Out of the Abyss
Moon Elf Warlock
Name: Katyr Feoras (Kah-teer Fay-Or-Ahs)
Age: unknown (~30)
Eye Color: Blue w/ white flecks
Skin Color: Pale white
Hair Color: Ash blond
Race: Moon Elf
Languages: Common, Elvish, Undercommon, Abyssal
“If it has a mind, it can be deceived.”
- Drow proverb
(Because embeds won’t work with this link):
Sephiroth – Cathedron (ambient industrial tribal)
“Thomas” Anyal grew up amidst the power-hungry Drow but since a young age could not get the name of Drizzt Do’Urden and his story of escape and defection from the Underdark out of his mind. While still a young man, Thomas (whose name he decided for himself after hearing stories of humans) one day disappeared from his home, which wasn’t surprising as he was known to avoid the worshipping of Lolth, but stayed away longer than usual, and then never seemed to return. Upon venturing into the moonlit wilderness for the first time, Thomas could only find a familiar shelter in a cave some distance from the entrance to his own home, and there began the thankless task of surviving alone, hunting, fishing, and doing all such basic necessities at night.
It was during this time that he encountered another elf who stopped his heart at the mere sight of her; a Moon Elf, of all things, watching him net small fish near the mouth of a river. Glowing, as they seem to do in the moonlight, Ferra introduced herself in Undercommon and the two began a tentative friendship motivated by the desire to learn about others, namely, strange others. After some months, Thomas learned the nomadic lifestyle of the Moon elves, and Ferra Anyal, in her stoic nature, warmed patiently to this Drow who wanted desperately to be better than the base selfishness of his kind.
Years passed and the two grew to love each other, and one day Ferra returned with a son. The boy’s hair and skin were of his mother’s, but the flecks of white in his deep blue eyes revealed the Drow. Though Ferra would only visit once every few moons and vanish at some point during sunset, leaving behind her notes on edibles, books from far away, drawings and souvenirs from who knew where, several years later, she returned with something unusual: news of an illness that she said had already killed many of her clan. With no reason to die with them, Ferra abandoned her people and trusted a Drow, of all things, to find a cure that not even her alchemists could determine and so she suspected to be of demonic origin. Thomas knew little of medicine, but he had a deep feeling this was a ploy of his people to hurt him for escaping.
Worse still, the cure involved summoning a demon, and his son had started showing the symptoms Ferra easily recognized. Within a few weeks, Ferra died of the illness and the boy, Katyr, managed to be saved due to Thomas’s accepting of a demon’s blood, or so it said. After a year of daily dosage, Katyr seemed to be fully recovered around his eleventh nameday, and the demon proffered that it would see Thomas again, warning that Drow mercenaries were coming to capture him and return the two to the Underdark for judgement. Since the demonic poison that had killed the Moon elf clan failed to also kill Katyr, Thomas’ only option was to send the boy southwest toward the fortress of Candlekeep which looks over the Sea of Swords and the Moonshae Isles.
With a sealed letter, a parched book in hand and a simple instruction, Katyr made his way through forests and moors till reaching the massive doors which would house him for years to come. Fortunately, the materials he possessed were accepted and verified with the name, Anyal. Over years of study living in the Court of Air, Katyr found that most of his interests led him toward the kind of dark magick from which his peers tended to shy away. Training as a Sage, he tended to work well with teachers but showed little interest in developing relationships with others, mostly due to inexperience and a mild, yet pervasive repulsion.
Many years after his enrollment, however, the dreams began. First, a feminine voice with perfect cadence spoke to him, bringing back memories of the time his father sent him towards the coast. He felt a reassurance in the tone despite the uncanny accuracy of the details it related, and then a feeling of being about to fall from a great height froze his stomach, pulling him down with no discernable reference point to gauge distance. As the uncertainty persisted, a form appeared out of the darkness with a face more beautiful than all creation. Katyr met with what appeared to be a woman, and then a sudden, overwhelming calm flooded his mind; he found he could not look away from her ocean-deep amber eyes, or even think of why he should. The pull he felt beforehand was renewed, but this time Katyr felt very differently, certain it was right to fall, to be one with this entity before waking to a world without it.
Over the next few days he processed the meaning of the dreams and realized that this being was the one who helped save him from the magickal plague that killed his mother and her clan. This was all the motivation he needed to do right by her, find his father, and ensure Candlekeep did not make a mistake in trusting him to its knowledge. Finally, Katyr trusted the dream entity to become a Warlock and take the steps necessary to help Candlekeep maintain its hold on artifacts that would prove dangerous in the hands of others, as well as studying the behavior and daily life of the myriad beings that inhabited unknown nether realms.
Just a few days after he started training, everything changed. Woken suddenly from a corner desk deep within Candlekeep’s great library, Katyr was taken by a small number of Avowed monks to explain himself and the accusations others were making about his “pact” to the Keeper. Exhausted from the late nite of study, he dispassionately detailed what had transpired years before to the best of his knowledge, expecting the Keeper to understand. Though she did very well, he was immediately expelled and had little choice but to find the only other home known to him far, far north.
After a month of walking, tracking, hunting, sleeping and sometimes falling into a trance to avoid curiously nebulous dreams, Katyr made his way towards the High Forest, memorable for its Grandfather Tree which he recalled passing in his youth. After spending the night in the town of Loudwater, he decided to press on at night only to run afoul of Drow bandits. They proved too many to handle, and have since imprisoned Katyr, just as he was closing in on his childhood home.
Subsequent dreams have begun to erode Katyr’s sense of proprioception, usually when sleeping, and very rarely when daydreaming. Since feeling assured he should fall into the gaze of the succubus he named Lethe (also identified as Amaya or Lykoris as her forms change), a troubling sensation occurred in his mind to the point where being extremely tired sometimes produces a sense of disconnect, as if his mind might detach from his body. The deep longing to cross the barrier between the material and ethereal worlds rests in Katyr’s head like a lit candle, able to flare when a particular breath of self-awareness flows by. Undiscovered, his mind may finally be plucked by the hand of his fiendish ally and thrown featherlight into the black, ashen abyss, never to be known again.