Land of the Elements
Combat Value 5/3
Health Points 60
Energy Points 90
Shock Value 12
Divine Relationship 1
Energy Bonus 3
Highly Skilled 2
Personal Gear(Medical Kit) 1
Wolf Form (4 pt.)
Water Sense (1 pt.)
-Healing lvl. 3
-Force Field(Surrounds body) lvl. 3
-Water Breathing (Usable on others)
-Premonitions (Controlled, 1/game)
-TK lvl. 5
Medical(Diagnosis) lvl. 4
Social Sciences(Theology) lvl. 4
Writing(TTheological) lvl. 1
Thrown Weapons(Energy Blasts) lvl.
Melee Defense(Parry) lvl. 1
Ranged Defense(Personal) lvl. 1
Significant Other (Jeremiah’s character) -1
Vulnerability (Earth Magic) -1
Backstory: (Still being written)
Caoilfhionn’s StoryShe dreamed of floating lost in a stormy sea as lightning crashing around her. The waves calmed her, held her comforted like her mother’s arms. Yet the sounds around her, a screaming that was both frantic and worried, made her uneasy. But the most memorable piece of this dream was the water… so much water. Caoilfhionn woke to the sun’s rays warming her cheek. She was nestled at the base of a large tree; cradled in its roots. The sun dappled the grass of a large clearing as it gleamed through the leaves above. She had expected to awaken in her bed and yet wasn’t surprised to find herself here in the center of this strange forest. There was a creaking sound from high above her and she looked up to see a figure in the branches. (To this day she can never remember his features, but she knows he has a gentle and caring face.)
“Come child. Walk with me. You are still far from safety.” He landed lightly beside her, holding out his hand. She took it and stood, and they began walking through the ancient woods like old acquaintances. As they walked, the man talked to her about the forest, the cycle of life and death, and the nature of healing. His voice was heavy and sad and she found herself struggling to follow his words.
She looked up towards him, squinting against the light above. “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t understand.” The figure squeezed her hand and looked down into her small face,
“You will, child. My meaning will become clear as you grow. For now it is important for you to simply listen. I have chosen you for a special task, and have set in motion the events that will lead you there. You see, the Old Gods, they still exist. They still love and watch over their children, but the faith of their flock has strayed. You child, will guide them back to the truth.”
As they neared the edge of the forest he leaned down and kissed the back of her hand. A flower seemed to bloom under her skin and then faded from sight. “My name is Yentumal. Many people have stopped believing in us. They won’t believe you when you say I rescued you from the flood. They won’t believe that you walked beside a God, but Father Alcott has a deep and honest faith. He will protect you and guide you until . . . Well, until you are old enough. I have chosen him as a guardian for you. Come here, to this little clearing every time the season turns and we will talk more; I will show you the way. Now, it is time to return to your people. Know that I am sorry for your loss, and that it isn’t the price for your gifts, it simply IS. But you will never be alone Caoilfhionn; listen and I will lead you.” Then, he placed his hand upon her head in benediction before turning away and fading back into the forest. As she raised her hand to wave goodbye, the forest began disappearing with him until all that was left was the field that bordered the northern end of her village. Familiar voices drew Caoilfhionn to hurry from the field’s boundary and she rushed towards her home where her mother and father should be waiting for her.
The scene that she entered into, though, was not the bustling community that she had grown to love, but a village ravaged. Buildings were half submerged and homes were completely destroyed. The people were dirty and bruised, digging hopelessly though muddy debris desperate to find any trinket of their past. Dread clenched her heart and made her blood race. Slowly and fearfully she walked toward the devastation. As she approached, a few of the villagers looked up and stared in shock back at her. A few gasped, some pointed and others just gaped with their mouths wide. She stopped and looked back at them, desperately scanning the crowd for a familiar face and confused at their reaction to her appearance. It was then that she noticed they didn’t stare at her face, but at her feet. Quickly she looked down… Nope, they were still there beneath her and clad in her favorite pair of shoes. She wiggled her toes; no, they still worked also… Then she too had to gasp. Her shoes were not muddy and her feet were not wet, for she stood upon the water! Her head shot up, and with a splash she dropped down into water.
After a few stunned moments she found that the flood water pooled at her ankles began to push her gently forward. She walked with the water’s slight current as it wove her to the left and toward an aged man near the front of the crowd. She stopped in front of the man and looked into his eyes. She had seen him before in the village and knew him to be friendly, but…odd.
“You must be Father Alcott?” He nodded, still stunned that the child had survived the devastation that had killed so many, only to arrive out of nowhere. She cocked her head sideways and put a finger to her chin.
“Are you really going to take care of me the way Yentumal said?” Father Alcott took a step back, obviously surprised by her question; but after a moment he answered her honestly,
“If Yentumal himself is talking to you, then I would be a poor priest to ignore his directions.” He knelt down taking her hands, “This is story you must tell me someday, but for now child, there are some things that you need to know.” He then told her of her family and the devastation the flood had wrought. He comforted her through her sadness and welcomed her into his home. Thus began her apprenticeship and religious study.
Father Alcott lived in the hills, a few miles from the village and up a poorly worn path. She lived happily with him, learning the ways of the Old Gods and helping him to heal and aid the suffering and Poor. She discovered, under his tutelage, that she had the ability to control water and manipulate it to her will. He instructed her as he would have a Priestess in the temple he ran as a young man and taught her all that he knew. She had a strong affinity for healing and could at times, usually most unexpectedly, see things that had not yet happened. She grew to love Father Alcott and worked hard to make him proud of her. Yet, she longed for a companion of her own age to break up her studies and talk of things other than lessons. But she was an outsider. Living so far from the village with an elderly man who rambled about “The Old Religion” and gave away healing salves and potions, she rarely made friends. When she was with other kids they were either frightened or jealous of her water magic. Her only respite from studies and chores were the Season festivals held in the village center. She favored the Summer faire.
Each year, Father Alcott would hitch up their old mule to the wagon and load it full of ointments, balms and potions to sell and trade at the “Summer’s Grace Festival”. She lived for these trips to the village and enjoyed the lanterns, decorations, dancing and performances that lit the spirits of the people before the hard work of the Autumn Harvest began. She’d imagine herself in that main courtyard, dancing with the children and showing off her magic to the delight of the spectators around her. Though she was often left to tend Father Alcott’s stand, she’d find herself leaning on the counter, mind drifting to the music and cheers from the center stage.
One year when she was seven, Father Alcott gave her a small purse of coins. Confused, she looked up at him, and was surprised to see a smile on his face.
“I need you to go to the baker’s stall on the other side of the faire and get us some fresh bread and flour for home. Whatever is left, you may use to spend as you wish. Be back here in two hours.” Despite the smile, the look behind his eyes meant there was no arguing his set curfew.
“Yes sir, two hours” She hugged him quickly around the waist and cradling the money purse gently, she rushed out the door afraid he’d change his mind.
She headed directly for the Baker’s stall not letting her eyes stray from the path she needed to take to get there. She’d have time, to look at everything on her way back to the stall. She made her purchase with the baker and paid him two coins to have the sack of flour and loaf of bread delivered to Father Alcott’s stall at Faire’s closing that evening. She even spent her first coin on a cinnamon sticky bun to curb her creeping hunger. She ate it quickly, too excited about her chance to explore the carnival to really enjoy it properly. She left the baker’s stand and stared out at the multitude of stalls before her, curious as to where she should begin her adventure.
As she wandered from stall to stall eyeing the different wares that sellers offered she heard a commotion off to the side near an alleyway entrance. She pushed her way through the crowd to spy a fairly large group of kids circled around a small table with three cups on it. It was manned by a boy a few years her senior. As she approached the throng, she recognized the boy as the son of one of the stage performers. It also didn’t take her long to realize what had caused the group to become so riled. The kids seemed to be betting and losing all their best toys to his “Cup and Ball” game. As she watched she discovered that she knew he was cheating, using magic to control and change the final location of the ball inside the cups. She found herself pleased to meet another who could use magic but annoyed that he would use it to steal. Angered, she reached up to her hair and untied the ribbon holding it up. The ribbon was her favorite and she only ever had cause to wear it at the festival. It was silk and dyed a beautiful color of blue that reminded her of her mother’s eyes. It was most definitely her favorite possession and the only item on her worthy of being wagered at this charlatan’s game. She approached the table, having decidedly plotted a way to attempt to end his unfair antics. She walked up to the boy and placed her teal ribbon in front of him on the table and next to a beautiful glass marble she recognized as belonging to a boy named Caedmon. She said nothing but looked him dead in the eye, willing herself not to reveal the fear she felt at the prospect of losing the ribbon to the smug grin behind the cups. No words were exchanged between them; the boy simply held up a carved, wooden ball and placed it under the middle cup. He then began to shuffle the cups deftly around the table. As the boy manipulated the cups quicker than her vision could follow, she concentrated. Focusing her thoughts she felt for the energy of the boy, the ball, and the cups as they rippled the water vapor in the air. As her awareness expanded, she could feel each droplet of water and how it reacted to the movement of the cups. She reached her magic out to the boy, discovering it was fire that burned through his body. She gripped the water within her using it to cool his flame, and as the boy finished his shuffle she knew exactly how he had moved the ball. He opened his hands to her, palms up. “Which cup do you choose?” She smiled and pointed at the left cup confidently. His grin widened as he lifted the cup saying “Gosh, I’m sorry. It wasn’t under . . . I mean, congratulations! You’re a winner. Umm, well, here’s that marble. . . Want to try double or nothing? Your luck is much better than these boys.” The village kids seemed amazed that she had managed to win. A tug on her sleeve caused her to look over her shoulder and she saw another village boy point at a hand-carved, wooden boat. Clearly, this swindler had scammed all of their favorite treasures. “Double or nothing.” she repeated firmly and over the next six games, she won back all their items. In the end, boy slumped down, defeated and exhausted. She picked up her ribbon and turned to leave without as much as a goodbye when she heard a voice.
He was not the only one to use magic, my child. Does he deserve nothing for his trouble? How will he learn?” Over the years since her rescue, she had only heard the God’s voice on rare occasions, but there was always wisdom in his words. She turned back to the boy, and wound the ribbon around his wrist before tying it. “To remind you of the value of fair play,” she said and then she headed back toward the stall feeling quite tired. As she ambled back through the faire, she found her thoughts straying to the boy’s face, his smile, and his look of confused defeat. She hoped that she’d see him again and gain the chance to learn his name.
The next morning after she and father Alcott had repacked the cart and taken down the stall, Caoilfhionn walked around town to try to find him. Near the well at Center Court she saw Caedmon and a few other boys from the afternoon before. She asked of the stranger and where he might be found. They looked surprised by her inquiry and told her that the boy and his family had left late last night, and wouldn’t return until next year’s Summer’s Grace Festival.
The following year, she looked for the boy and was happily surprised that he was wearing her ribbon as he performed onstage. She found herself entranced in his performance and desired greatly ask him about his troupe and the other places in the world he visited. It was several more hours before she found him again, and this time he introduced himself as Lasarian. They talked, laughed and enjoyed the festival. Each year thereafter, they met, talked about the things they had learned, their dreams, and their fears. He told her that one day he was going to be known as the greatest magician in the world, and she told him that one day she was going to show everyone that the Gods still loved their children. And as the years passed, Caoilfhionn fell in love with Lasarian and he fell in love with her.
Many years later, they were lying on the bank of a river and looking up at the stars as they talked about their dreams. Lasarian stood up and said “Why do we have to wait to start our lives? Come with me now, let’s start today! I want to wander the world with you by my side until we find our new home.” Caoilfhionn hesitated thinking of the village she had never left and the kind face of the man who cared for her. Lasarian’s hand called to her, but her heart felt trepidation. Then she heard the voice of Yentumal again.
“Go Child, the Path is laid out… follow it.” Without another thought she grasped the hand before her and stood, “Yes, I will follow you! Our destiny lies before us, and I am instructed to sail its waters.” They left that night, taking the few things that no one would contest was theirs and began their journey.
They were married in a simple ceremony later that month, and what followed was a series of exploits that may never see the light of day. In time, Lasarian became a truly gifted Fire magician who was called the “Spectral Blaze.” Caoilfhionn favored the simpler “Master Healer” but it was a title whose rarity only emphasized the strength of both her magic and her faith. She and Lasarian had wandered for years before arriving in Prylea, and both of them enjoyed seeing new places and meeting new people. Still, she could never have imagined where their path would lead after her latest vision from Yentumal. Strife. Sacrifice. Honor. The Path will demand much, but your Faith is your greatest weapon.
So begins the newest chapter in the lives of Caoilfhionn and Lasarian. . .