Zyth's Backstory (LARP Character)

My character’s actual full name is Zythaniel Lee Threwell. The cataclysm occurred when I was approximately 14 years old. I was an only child to my parents, Roland and Esther Threwell. My father was the leader of the village, Rothland, where I grew up. “Magic”, as you call it, was not something we were familiar with. We were mostly farmers and gatherers, self-sufficient. Outside of crude spears and bows for hunting and for killing livestock, we had no real weapons to speak of. We were peaceful. We had distant neighboring villages, but we rarely mingled, except occasionally to allow children to find life-partners, and even that rarely happened. None of our neighbors were hostile; it was just more effort than was desirable to make the week-minimum long journeys to other towns.

While we were unfamiliar with magic, we were master alchemists. Although during the raid almost all the texts were destroyed, I remember reading of potions able to bring a person back from the beyond even days after death. I personally never saw such a potion used, but I do recall when I was very young that there was a potionmaster who nursed a man back to health, using only potions, who had literally been ripped limb from limb by a pack or rabid wolves. When I turned twelve, I began to learn the art of alchemy, and had learned many spells by the time the cataclysm came, but the events that transpired after the cataclysm cost me much.

I was betrothed to a girl three moons younger than myself. Lissandra, my sweetheart, and I were to be married upon her sixteenth birthday. As kids do, we played for fun more than we seriously spent time together, but we had forged the bond of partnership which we intended to strengthen until death.

Then the cataclysm came. We were wholly unprepared for such an event, as I suspect no one could have been. As best my father could tell, everyone survived except a shepherd boy, who disappeared with his whole flock of sheep. While the people were okay, we were instantly aware of our peril: where once all our fields had been, now a forest stood, dark and ominous. We were not concerned about the forest, but the loss of an entire harvest would leave us starving during the coming winter.

My father called a town meeting to discuss our options for surviving. There were, of course, those who felt that we could simply use our stock of potions to survive the winter, but my father resisted, insisting that living naturally was preferable to sustaining ourselves with potions. Some middle ground would have to be reached, but before a solution could be found, it happened. The raid.

None of us had seen a race of beings outside of humans, so what came charging out of the forest’s darkness brought terror to us all. I believe you call them G’avin. There were at least fifty of them, and their leader was monstrous in both size and appearance. Their burned flesh smelled still, even though most of their rituals had taken place many years earlier. In a rough form of common, the leader yelled to my father to submit and allow them to pillage our town, and the people would be spared. My father, a proud man, refused, and with only a few words doomed our village. To be honest, though, I don’t believe they would have kept their word, because the leader’s comments during the raid led me to believe otherwise.

Within minutes, half the village was dead or maimed. The G’avin swords were spilling more blood than they had likely seen in some time. I ran and hid in the great library, but dropped my potions-book in my haste. It was burned completely in the fire to come.

The leader and two minions entered the library, but seeing only books, and thankfully not seeing me, they quickly lost interest and went back out in search of more loot. The words that I heard from the leader still haunt my dreams, though… “Lord demands them alive…need more prisoners for research…grab as many as can before leaving.”

I stayed where I was until the fire was started. When it reached the library, it was as if the fire came alive, and growled as it ate all that we had learned over the centuries. I ran, but grabbed a few books that looked important. Two of them had caught fire and many pages were illegibly burned. Unfortunately, I cannot read them, and I do not know any, sage or otherwise, who can.

When I emerged from the burning library, the last of the G’avin were retreating back into the forest. The scene was horrific. At least a hundred of our number were killed, and from what I could still see, dozens were taken alive as prisoners. My parents and Lissandra were among them. Lissandra’s cries to me broke my heart, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I was just a potionmaker, and a child at that.

Those of us still alive in the village spent a week cleaning up the bodies and the rubble, and repairing the smoking buildings as best we could. The loss to the library was nearly complete; so few readable works remained that we were literally set back nearly a thousand years in usable potions research. I hid the books I still held, hoping that they might still have use in the future.

Even after the village was restored (as much as it could be, anyway), the general feeling was of despair. No one was willing to lead the people under such circumstances, and with winter coming (so we believed: it was difficult to know for sure after the cataclysm), no one believed the village would survive anyway. I was asked once to take my father’s place, but at fourteen I have no doubt most would not listen to me, and rightly so because I had no place ruling over a village in my mental state. In a fit of rage, I knocked my front door off its hinges, and left. I didn’t tell a person, and was careful not to be seen. On my way out, I checked the library once more, found a scroll which seemed nearly intact, jammed it into my pack, and entered the forest.

I knew that I was off to find those I loved, yet I had no idea where to go, and no knowledge of how to defend myself. I’m amazed I lasted one night, but my luck found me on the edge of a small lake, beholding the sight of a radiantly beautiful female elf. Hanging from trees around her were mannequins made of wood. She stood facing away from me, poised it looked as if to fight an army. I nearly fell to the ground as I watched the mannequins come to life to fight her. Like a master, she quickly sent them hurling to the ground, and within seconds only she and I were still standing. As she put her long saber into its hilt, she spoke.

“You know, you should never approach a lady from behind without announcing yourself. Especially one adept with a sword.” She turned to meet my stare. “What’s your name, stranger?”

I barely had the capability to speak. “Zythaniel… Zythaniel Threwell.”

“That’s an odd name. Not to mention hard to speak.”

“Call me Zyth.” I’d never been called Zyth my entire life, but suddenly it seemed right somehow. “You’re a great warrior for…” I stopped before I said something that might’ve gotten me killed, but she knew me like no one ever had.

“A girl…right? Is that what you were going to say? You know, looking at your stance, and your lack of weapon, I’d say I could slice your head clean off before you could pick a foot up off the ground.”

I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry to have intruded. I’ll just be on my way…”

“Going so soon? I thought we were starting to get along, and now you’re leaving…” Her eyes sparkled and her lips barely curled into a smile. She was having fun at my expense.

“Well…I’m certainly not going to spend time with a stranger intent on slicing off my head. Maybe, if I knew your name, I would be more inclined to stay.”

“Fine. Be that way. I’m Starla.” She turned and walked back toward the mannequins. “Judging by the look on your face, I’m guessing you’d like to know how I made these figures come to life, huh?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to ask, but yes, I was somewhat curious. Is it some type of potion?”

Starla laughed. “Potion? That’s a good one. Magic…that’s what I’m talking about.”

“Magic…what is this?”

“You’ve never heard of magic? You bump your head or something? Maybe the cataclysm’s affected you somehow.” Starla scratched her head in thought. “Maybe you’re not from here? I heard from a passing group of sages that the entire world was rebuilt.”

“That could be possible. All the lands around our town were changed. We figured that some horrible potion gone awry might have caused our plight.”

“Well, I seriously doubt any potion could account for the effects of the cataclysm. I’ve never heard of potions capable of anywhere near that amount of power. Magic, though, can be that powerful. This actually is not the first time that magic has gone awry and sundered the world. The first time, our world fell into chaos for many years. I fear it may happen again.”

I stood dumbstruck. Was it possible that our village was actually brought to another world? The G’avin and this Elf certainly gave me the feeling this story had merit. And it brought the feeling of terror back into my chest. I must save Lissandra and my parents as soon as possible. I still had no idea how I would accomplish this, however. But I did have an idea.

“Can you train me to fight like you?” I was desperate, and Starla seemed my best bet at the moment.

“I haven’t had someone ask me that in years. An apprentice, you say? You willing to listen and do what I say, or are you one of those guys that decides after 2 days that they know more than I do? Because, let me tell you, those guys always end up dead. And most of them by me.”

“You can trust me. I don’t care how long it takes. I must find my parents, and help them if I can. They were captured by a group of beasts with burned skin and taken off to some forsaken land.” I had to fight off tears to continue. “I must save those I love, and without proper training I may as well let them kill me now.”

“Oh, so the G’avin who ran through here were carrying those from your village? Interesting. Well, I’ll let you know that they didn’t leave my lands unscathed.” Starla pointed to a pile of rotting corpses. I’m amazed I didn’t notice them earlier. “Sadly, though, I was not able to catch any who were carrying the prisoners. The others guarded them with their lives.”

“You must have great power in battle to do so much. I put my life in your hands…please teach me what you can.”

And so I became Starla’s apprentice. She taught me many things of the world…magic, fighting, knowledge of the world and its races that I would surely encounter. Although fairly certain that with every day I spent training there was less of a likelihood I would see my family alive again, likewise everyday I was more prepared to face the battle needed to free them if they were still indeed alive.

Five years passed. Starla and I were equals on the battlefield. She had taught me everything she knew, and I in turn taught her tricks here and there which came to mind during our training. I had written down what few potions I still remembered how to make, and shared the recipes with Starla. Of course, I was inexperienced in the field of actual battle, but my training should have prepared me for whatever I might face on my journey.

“I’m gonna miss you, Zyth. I’d not had anyone to share company with in a hundred years.” Starla appeared on the verge of crying, but the warrior nature within her forced it back.

“I’ll miss you too, Starla. Kill a few G’avin for me, will you?”

“Bah, I’m getting to old to fight real people. In a pinch I’ll do what I have to, but I’m content with my puppets.”

“I wish you could have shown me the magic that lets you animate them. It could prove useful.” I gestured toward the heap of dead wood with my shortsword.

“Trust me Zyth…you don’t want to learn of such magic. It’s dangerous stuff, and you’ll have your hands full keeping yourself up and moving. Not to mention the more you try to make them do the more likely they will develop a mind of their own, and that’s something you REALLY don’t want to have to deal with.” Her eyes grew weary with the encompassing dusk. “Magic is best left for those who understand the consequences. You stick with your potions. You seem very well suited to alchemy.”

I turned to leave when I felt Starla’s hand on my shoulder.

“Take this,” she said. When I turned, I saw her long saber held out to me.

“I can’t take this…it’s your sword. It belongs to your family.”

“Zyth, you’re the only family I’ve got left, and the way I see it, I won’t be needing it much longer. Either way, I’ll be taking your shortsword, so it’s even.”

I took the saber into my hand, and it felt more natural than anything I had ever held before, save potions. “Thanks, Starla. Til we meet again.”

As I turned away, I swore that I heard her say, “I have a feeling we will, Zyth.”

Starla gave me the best information she had about the current whereabouts of the G’avin tribe who had attacked the village, but it was not much to go by. They were often on the move, but I suspected that their “lord” was quite stationary, and, given the right information, would be easy to find. However, Starla did advise me not to go directly after the G’avin, but instead to find a place called Winterhaven. She had heard from a passing sage just before I’d left that there was a group of adventurers there who might have information about the G’avin tribe, and possibly even be willing to help fight.

My trek was much easier than I had expected. Other than the hardships of traversing a mountain range, and fighting a river to reach the shore of a great ocean, the only battles I was forced to fight were one where two wolves tried to flank me, but I was only bruised by the encounter, and a troll.

The troll was, by and far, a much bigger challenge than I was prepared to face head-on. Coming down from the mountains, the troll was guarding the pass. There was no logistical way around, and the troll was full-grown. I suspected from the tracks in the snow that there were at least two others, but was not certain. The troll demanded a toll to pass down out of the mountains. I was not carrying much: my saber and armor, a tote full of potions, my recipe book, the few books I spared from my village fire, and enough food to get me to the ocean shore. I really could not spare any of this, so I sat before him and thought until a reasonable solution entered my mind.

“Troll, I have a potion that you would like.” I pulled out a red flask filled with a liquid that gave off a slight glow.

“What potion do?” The troll lowered his club.

“It will double your strength permanently.” Of course, I didn’t have a potion that could do this, but I figured this would make the troll very happy. “Then, if anyone tries to pass in the future without a toll, you will be able to kill them easily and take everything they own.”

“This potion sound good. You no trick me?” This troll obviously wasn’t the dumbest one out there, but I had him where I wanted him.

“No, of course not. I don’t want to be dead.” I was counting on the fact this troll couldn’t read Common. The potion was in fact a potent sleeping potion. I wasn’t sure how well it would work on a 8-foot troll, but it should at least slow him down enough for me to get by.

“Give me potion, I drink potion, if I like strength, you pass. If I no like, you dead.” I REALLY hoped he couldn’t read Common.

I gave him the potion and stepped back. He squinted at the writing on it, then drank it. I audibly let out a sigh of relief. The troll just stood there. Five seconds passed, then ten, then fifteen. The potion should have worked by this point.

“I NO FEEL STRONGER. YOU LIE…YOU DEAD!”

The troll charged me. I made an attempt to enter the brush on one side of the pass, but quickly became entangled in vines. I turned my head to see the troll raise his club…and then the potion kicked in. The troll fell less than three feet from my entangled body, the club falling and hitting him in the back. He was completely unconscious.

I sliced my way out of the brush, and sprinted down the pass. About fifteen minutes later, I heard a bellowing voice from up the mountain: “I TRICKED! GET HUMAN!”

Like thunder the noise came. I climbed a fir tree and waited. After only a few minutes, a herd of at least a dozen trolls rumbled past me. The pass-guard was leading the pack. I waited for about three hours until dark, then jumped out of the tree and went on my way. I never saw the trolls again.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. When I reached the ocean, I expected a port city or something of the like, but all I found was a harbor with what appeared to be the ashen remains of a small city. At first I assumed the G’avin were to blame, but a wandering vagabond informed me that a great destruction was done upon the city by gargoyles. To this day, I have not seen a gargoyle in the flesh, but the crumbled boulders strewn between the buildings told a tale that I am glad I was not there to witness.

For five moons I remained in the ruins of the city, once called Ishkandar. Approximately five hundred still called the crumbled city walls their home, out of what I am told were about 10,000 before the attack. At one point, I traded tales with a traveling sage, who was just outside the walls when the army arrived:

“There was no end to the rage shining within the black eyes of the gargoyle army. Hidden behind a grove of small trees, I witnessed the assault upon the city gates. The stone-men numbered no less than 5,000, and they fought without regard to their own lives. Within ten minutes of the onslaught, the gates (24” thick wood reinforced with steel), were shredded, and the city-guard divided.

“I snuck back into the city through a secret passage I knew of, and watched as every citizen fought desperately to protect all they cared for, whether it be children, possessions, or their own lives. The city as a whole was able to do what the city guard alone was not: slow the attack that was spreading through the streets.

“About two hours before dawn, which was approximately 6 hours after the attack had begun, the remaining guard reformed near the city center, and created an arrow-like attack through the hordes. The city inhabitants, those still alive, were gathered behind the guard. With fury, the guard charged into the heart of the gargoyle mob, slashing and beheading as they went.

“The attack was successful. The gargoyle army had been severed into two distinct groups and became disjointed in their attacks. The city-dwellers ran for their lives between the two warmongering groups and fled the city. About one thousand made it out. The city guard’s efforts were successful, but at the cost of their own lives. As a last ditch effort to contain the gargoyles as long as possible, they devised a plan to destroy the city walls.

“The guard feigned weakness near the main gate, enticing the gargoyles to make a move. As soon as the army entered the entranceway tunnel, all magic-wielding guards fired at and destroyed the four pillars closest to the gateway, collapsing a 100-foot section of wall and killing nearly half the gargoyles. This last heroic feat killed all but a few of the remaining city guard. Those that were left served to block any easy exits through the rubble of the entrance, and they eventually succumbed to the gargoyles.

"The gargoyles howled in rage at their foiled plot. With no one left in the city, and no way to catch the city-dwellers who had fled, they raided the city's treasury and left. No one has seen them since. About one moon later, the residents still alive began to filter back. What you see is the result of this fateful night..."

While waiting for a ship to harbor itself, I spent my time exploring the ruined city. I found and took multiple books which told stories of Ishkandar. (I know not whether these stories are truth or fiction.) I made a temporary shelter in an abandoned merchant building within line-of-sight of the docks and slept peacefully for the first time in a moon. It was pleasant not to have to sleep with one eye open.

The remaining dwellers were very kind, and I grew to know several of them quite well. I was given access to the only alchemical storehouse not destroyed by the siege, and in turn offered to become their "alchemist", as they called me. I was not accustomed to this term, and was not anywhere near the skill level required to be a potionmaster, at least by my own village's terms.

I spent time studying the illegible books I saved from Rothland, but could not find any key to break the code (I assume the language was coded somehow), and eventually gave up. I kept my swordfighting skills sharp by fighting wild beasts outside the city walls, but this was a poor substitute for the combat I would one day face.

About 5 moons after I arrived in Ishkandar, a large sailing ship took port to escape a coming storm. I promptly said my goodbyes, gathered my belongings, and made my way to the docks. I was relieved to see that this crew did not look hostile. Although I would have been willing to sail aboard a pirate ship, it would not have been my preferred method of travel. The captain, Remus Moontide, was a rather pleasant fellow, as a matter of fact. A deckhand took me to see him straight-away.

Remus was quite large for a human. Standing about six and a half feet tall, it was clear that Remus had earned his position through hard work and discipline. This was just the captain I was hoping to sail with.

Remus looked up from his ledger. "Who might you be, and what brings you upon my ship?"

I bowed my head in respect. "My name is Zyth, and I come to you seeking passage to Winterhaven. Would you be sailing in this direction?"

I thought I saw a glint of fire in his eyes, although the setting sun may have been fooling me. "I am indeed sailing generally in that direction, but I do not make a habit of stopping in the bay. Dangerous waters, those are, not just from below. Pirates patrol those waters. Vicious, cold-hearted pirates. You ever heard of Crazy Sally?"

I met his gaze, although not necessarily because I wanted to. "No, I'm afraid not. I'm not from the Winterhaven area, and this is the first time I have set foot on a ship."

"Her name is quite accurate. Crazy, she is. The conscripts that sail under her and the Captain are unnatural beasts. Don't know for sure what she does to them, but it's not right. And the captain, they say he's the best brawler this side of the ocean. Not the man to get in a fight with." Remus paused. "Besides, what do you have to offer me? I'm not just going to let you sail like a king."

"I am willing to help out as a deck hand in any way you see fit. I do not know much of sailing, but I will learn quickly." I saved the better part of my offer until he was nearly ready to deny my request. "Oh, and I am a decently talented 'alchemist'." The word still would not flow of my tongue as it should. "I would be more than happy to supply your crew with needed healing potions and such."

Remus sat back into his chair and stroked his beard. He took a large swig of whatever drink was sitting upon his desk, and looked at me.

"You've got a deal. We've not had an alchemist on board for some time, and some of the crew have been falling ill more frequently lately. However, if you make one false move, or look like you're not pulling your weight, you'll be off this ship so fast you'll drown before you realize you're in the water."

I left Captain Moontide to his ledger, and found a spare bunk below. I set up my potions materials and began stocking up on potions.

We spent three months at sea, and my extra hands and potions came to be useful on multiple occasions. We never fought any horrible sea battles, and never ran into any of the pirates the Captain spoke of.

***to be continued***