Kalvesh Dawnwatcher

Master of Masks

You wish to know my name. Only two people ever knew my true name, the name I was given at my birth. The name I shall give you a name, you may call me Kalvesh Dawnwatcher. I belong to the secretive race of Illumians. If you do not know of us then you now know we exist and that is all I will tell you.

As far as family goes there were three of us, my mother had died giving birth to me. My father was a bard and traveled all over Sellador. I followed in my fathers footsteps and chose to entertain people for a living, I became an actor. My older brother, Torvan was the black sheep of the family. Torvan chose a life of crime, using his sorcerors skills to steal, cheat, and blackmail.

While traveling I met another bard like me and not like me. He was an older man who had seen and done many things. He taught me something that has shaped my life. He taught me the power of a mask.

I was returning to our home after a tour with my troupe and found my father on the floor dieing. His skin was blackened and cracked; his clothing had melted into his flesh. He was barely breathing. I dropped to me knees just in time to hear his last breath. On this last whisper of air was one word, one name. Torvan.

I was shocked. I just sat there staring down on my dead father trying to understand what could have happened. Slowly it all played out in my mind. My father recently was rewarded by a noble woman for a ballad he had composed for her birthday. She gave him an exquisite ruby necklace, the one she had been wearing that very night to show how much she loved the song. My father had been so excited about his good fortune that he celebrated in the town pub. The poor old fool told a few two many people about his night.

Word must have gotten to Torvan. The thieving dog must have demanded it from my father and when father refused his lost his temper. He always resorts to his magic when he loses his temper.

I knew where my father always hid his valuables from Torvan. The lose floor board next to the stove. As I approached the stove I could see the board was up and the hole of empty. I do not care about the necklace. I want Torvans head!

I tracked him to Allstone. I spent days seeking him out. I learned more as to why he was so determined to have the necklace, to be willing to kill our father for it. Torvan had a debt to pay to a man of less that respectable reputation. Apparently Torvan had killed the son of this mans friend. Torvan was trying to make piece. He thought he could buy his way out. He was wrong the man tried to have Torvan killed but he and the friends he had left fled. They ran as far away as they could to a place where they would be free of their enemies reach. They traveled to Agrathea.

I followed. It took time but I would never give up.

I found his camp. He and his friends had gained followers and were developing into quite a band. They were getting to be such a large band that getting to Torvan was going to be difficult. So I waited and watched.

Then I struck. Kill a guard. Take his clothes. Hide the body. Wait for the replacement. Then wander towards Torvans tent keeping to the shadows, away from the fires. I walked like I belonged there, like I had been living there as long as everyone else. As I approached Torvans anger built in me. My vengeance was at hand. I stopped a short distance away to make sure no one was watching. I was clear. I knew Torvan enjoyed a drink at night. I knew he would be alone.

I drew the sword I commissioned just for this purpose. A blade that would bring agony to any arcane user it cut. I pulled the door covering aside and stepped in. Torvan was sitting on a cot on the far side. I will always remember his face. First I saw shock and then I saw his eyes fall to the sword in my hand. I muttered the words of the spell I had learned just for this. The blade in my hand leapt into the air. Whirling through the air it spun straight for Torvan. He was still holding the bottle of whine as the blade slashed across his chest, cleaving his flesh. He fell back into his bed. The blade appeared back in my hand. I rushed forward. He was barely alive. I raised my sword over his heart and said, “For Father.” I barely felt the blade impale my brother passing through him into the cot beneath. As I watched the life fade from his eyes, I bid him farewell.

I drew the blade from my brothers dead form, cleaning on his blankets. My brother is dead, my father is avenged. I tuned to leave and froze. The tent flap pulled open and a man entered. This man was a man I knew. His name was Blane. He was a friend of Torvans growing up, and what was worst is he knew my face. Our eyes met and then his went to Torvan. I wasted no time. With a thought I activated the magic in my boots. The image of the tent changed in a blink. I was in the woods north of the tent where I had tethered my horse. I mounted and rode for my life.

I have spent the last two months covering my tracks. I know Blane. Torvan had been more of a brother to Blane than he ever was to me. Blane would pursue me.

And so I find myself on the rode to the new king of Agrathea. I hope to see what this new king is about, and hopefully find some means of travel away from this land. Blane will make finding me his lifes quest.

Alignment: CG

Place of Origin: Sallidor, Agrathea

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Contributor: Mark Hughes