Class: Rogue (Sharpshooter)
Race: Elf
Level: 6

AC: 20
Fortitude: 16
Reflex: 20
Will: 17

Far Shot, Treetop Sniper, Backstabber, Distant Advantage, Warrior of the Wild


“No, no, no!” Screamed Rajal. “How many times do I have to tell you start aiming before the bow string is taut? How do you expect to take a target at full stride if you aren’t choosing your targets before you even notch an arrow?”

The reprimand was met with a switch crack from a training rod. Lithander winced in pain. Rajal had thought the bow should come to the lad naturally being an elf. Of this he wasn’t so sure. Lithander had the welts down the back of his legs to prove it.

Rajal took pride in the fact that he could take scum and turn them into professional soldiers. The taskmaster was aware of the sense of unrest in Raam and worried for the future. Rajal knew that if the Queen were to fall there would surely be a power vacuum between factions. He could only guess the Legion wanted to make sure it could hold its own. Offers were being made daily to young criminals to bolster the ranks of The Legion. On these lads he showed no mercy.

Only 4 months ago the youth had been caught by a patrol in central Raam stealing from the guard on patrol in the trade quarter. For weeks legionnaires had been coming back from their patrols missing a few coins or smaller trinkets they carried on their persons. It soon became apparently that something other than carelessness was a foot. An easy trap was enough to catch the street urchin.

The boy had shown great aptitude in stealth, and espionage. That alone assured his position in the Legion of Bone. Almost daily scouts were assigned tasks to assess the strengths of other factions scattered throughout the city. Unlikely alliances were forming. The Legion needed eyes. Raam was in turmoil. Revolution was in the air.

- 8 Years Later -

“Don’t let him escape!”, shouted Jaarl.

Taking a breath Lithander judged the fleeing man was 50 feet give or take. He calmly drew the string on his bow, blocking out other distractions. He felt the cool air of the night brush the sweat on his brow.


The arrow caught the fleeing man at the base of his skull. He fell to the ground dead instantly. The pair moved to the fallen man quickly to search him for anything that might indicate his loyalty. The two had seen sneak into a tent on the outskirts of Legion’s encampment. It wasn’t uncommon for assassins and spys to be sent out among the warrior factions at night. Raam was locked in a power struggle that saw no end. Lithander grew weary of the stalemate.

He had been a Legionnaire for 7 years. He had seen many things during his service. Including the assassination of Queen Ablach-Re. Raam was now a city underseige from within. Warring factions struggled to gain the upper hand of the once prosperous trade city. Lithander often wondered if there was a better way.

“Good shot Lith!” Jaarl said as he patted the elf on the back. “I thought for sure this dog would slip away.”

“Don’t you get bored with this Jaarl?”, asked Lithander.

“I got a tent over my head, and a steady supply of water. We almost see action every night! “ Stated the human clearly missing the point of Lithander’s question. Jaarl was a new recruit, recently promoted to a full legionnare. This was only his 2nd week on duty.

“I meant the war. Chaos rules the street. There is no order to things. How can our city ever begin to rebuild if we can’t stop fighting over the scraps of what’s left?” Jaarl shrugged. He cared not for such things. He was a simple man.

During Lithander’s time in the Legion of Bone he had learned many things. One of which was to give his life a purpose. He had hated his taskmaster at first. Thinking the man cold and emotionless. Often was the case with people in Athas. Over time he had learned that the man was simply instilling in him the skills he would need to survive.

Rajal had taken Lithander from a life of poverty and squalor to a soldier. He was living proof that even lowest of the low were deserving of a chance. Ever since attaining the rank of Legionnaire Lithander yearned for his life to mean something. Daily he saw men killed in this fruitless struggle for power. He did not want to die another faceless mercenary in the Legion of Bone. He was tired of this. He had been searching for a way out. For a way to leave his mark on this world, no matter how small. His efforts had yielded fruit., The Veiled Alliance.

His abilities as a scout and spy had served him well thus far. He was able to keep a finger on the pulse of the happenings around the city fairly easily. Also being an elf he was assigned the duty of waste running quite often. Among his travels he had heard rumors of the organization, and of those who “wore the veil.” He had not been able to make any contacts in the alliance, nor even meet with one of their members.

He had made up his mind that the next message he was assigned to run to the Jade Tower he would take the risk of gathering information on the Alliance. He knew not what fruits this would yield, but the tower was a good a place as any to start.


The Verdant Passage Festablo