Avel

Avel

"He insisted this would look cool..."

Player Name	Roastededdy
Relatives	None
Languages	Common, Elvish, and Sylvan
Affiliations	"I'll perform for any audience."
Aliases	"The Elf with a Thousand Lives" (Self Proclaimed)
Place of Birth	Shadespar
Species	Shadar-Kai Elf
Height	5'11"
Weight	120lbs
Eye Color	Grey and pupilless

Physical Appearance

At 5'11 and 120lbs, Avel is rather tall and lanky for an elf, almost giving him the appearance of being malnourished. His features a series of contrasts: his raven-black hair is kept short and slicked back from a pale face, where one pupiless, solid grey eye holds a curious intensity, the other concealed permanently behind a leather eyepatch. His corpse-like pallor and stillness, however, are heavily undercut by the way he carries himself. Avel is perpetually in motion, his restlessness channeled into the lithe, dexterous grace of a seasoned acrobat and performer.

Like most Shadar-Kai, Avel has grey, lifeless skin, the perfect canvas for his wide variety of scars and tattoos.

Tattoos:

• The Cinder Rose (Center of Chest): A beautifully detailed, vibrant red rose tattooed over his heart. If asked, he'll claim he won it in a bet with a fire genasi by catching a hot coal with his bare hands. The truth is, he paid a small fortune for it because he thought it "contrasted poetically with his grey skin."
• The Word "Lucky" In Common (Rib Cage): The "L" is smudged, he got it the second he set foot on the material plane, but the cart he was getting it in hit a bump.
• A Laughing Skull (Left Shoulderblade): A skull with its head thrown back in laughter, a nat 1 clutched in its teeth. He got it after a performance was completely ruined by accident, but the audiences' laughter was almost worth the pay he didn't get

Scars:

• Rope Burn (Both Palms): Tried to slide down a bell tower rope on a dare, learned the hard way why sailors wear gloves.
• Knife Gouge (Right Eye): From attempting to juggle knives on horseback. The horse, apparently, wasn't having as much fun as he was.
• Scrape Scars (Right Elbow and Knee): Started a fight with a heckler at a bar and needed to make a hasty escape after his friends moved to back him up. Unfortunately, the tavern owner did not secure his roofing well enough.

Personality

Avel's personality belies his grim appearance with dramatic flair and thrill-seeking. Every choice is guided by the need to feel alive and in danger.

To others, Avel is bright, charismatic, and maybe a little overwhelming. He treats battles like deadly performances and conversations like improv. This makes people view him as irresponsible or flippant, but it's simply that he's more concerned with the story than his safety.

However, his roots still rear their heads sometimes with bouts of sarcasm and gallows humor. Avel's home is a constant reminder of his own mortality, but he simply uses this as fuel for his thrill-seeking, determined to burn bright enough for the world to see.

History

Avel was born in the narrow alleyways of Shadespar, Jewelspar's Shadowfell counterpart. For the majority of his life, Avel drifted around the city, scavenging and scrapping. One day, the elf happened upon one of the portals between the Shadowfell and Material Plane. Curious, Avel scouted it out, finding himself inside one of Jewelspar's many libraries. What started as simple curiosity, turned into an obsession as Avel read fable after tall tale after legend, absolutely enamored with stories of valiant heros and dastardly villains. Months pass as Avel consumes shelf after shelf of books, until one day he hears it, a strange, voiced, sucking in and out of air, laughter. In that moment, a star was born, the elf determined to become a hero worthy of legend, to inspire vibrancy in other's lives.

Avel packed his belongings and fled the Shadowfell, stepping out into the borderline overwhelming sensory experience that is the material plane. Vibrant colors, loud crowds, and that radiant, searing, sun! It was an alien world, ready to explore and entertain. Starting small at dive bars and inns in the outskirts, Avel developed a routine of pursuing danger to thrill the crowd. Gradually, the leaps of faith grew higher, the blades sharper, and the dangers greater. Avel pushed himself to greater and greater thrills

Months into his performing career, Avel heard the call to the badlands, rumors of a lawless wasteland that invited all manner of challenges, the ultimate stage to perfect his art. Avel will need more than just fast hands and cheap tricks. In the badlands, there's no restraint, no civilization, and no safety nets, and he couldn't be more excited.

Powers and Abilities

Avel primarily fights with swords, eschewing more traditional bard fighting styles by putting himself directly in harm's way. His spell work is suited for complimenting his melee fighting, creating opportunities for precision strikes for both him and his allies.

Avel's Tales

The Witch of The Woods

Avel grins as he spins his chair on a leg before sitting down

"Ah... you want to hear a story, huh? Well boy, do I have a good one for you today."

He leans forward, and the air seems to darken around him. The scenery shifts as Avel sets the scene with a bright and vibrant illusory forest.

"Rumors had it... that there lived a powerful witch deep in these woods, one who would grant your wishes at the cost of the wisher's left eye. The problem was she was granting wishes for bandits and cultists."

Avel props his feet up on the table

"So naturally, I tagged along with an adventuring party to explore some of the wilderness."

Avel draws in a long sigh

"Ok, now that the boring stuff is out of the way. Trees, did you know there are animals that live in trees? There was this one that must have had, like, hundreds of bees. But gods, the taste of honey was worth all the stings. The party leader scolded me for hurting myself while our healer laughed as she plucked stingers out of my hands, but fish don't see the water they swim in, or something like that."

Avel shrugs as the illusory scene shifts, a massive wall of fog dominating one side of the room

".... where was I again? OH! right, the fog. When we got closer to the witch, there was this massive wall of fog that stretched as far as the eye could see. We sat there for what felt like forever, tossing rocks in, waving a stick around in the fog, holding hands while one of us went in... our party leader was a cautious guy."

Avel waves a dismissive hand

"I didn't get it, I mean, it's not like any of us would be dumb enough to accept shady bargains from a witch"

Avel takes a moment to drink, smirking against his mug

"... and she wouldn't harm potential wishmakers. So, when the party leader started suggesting we should tie a rope around someone's waist, I simply charged in."

The scene shifts again, the fog enveloping the room with vague shapes quickly darting around behind the cover.

"Inside the fog, I ended up running into a friend from back home, my old swordsmanship trainer, I showed him some of my new moves in a light spar, which he rightfully scolded me for being 'wasteful' and 'overdramatic'. He always was a much more practical fighter than I ever was."

Avel's face softens a hair

"It wasn't real of course, he's long dead, but it was nice. Then he did the whole 'person you like melts into a puddle of goo' horror bit, and a creature that looked like a dog with a man's face appeared. When I told it I wasn't really in the mood to talk, it simply started walking. I followed it and finally reached the witch's cabin."

The fog parts to reveal a homey cabin, warmly lit by candlelight, inside the doorway stood a tall woman with a wide brimmed hat.

"I was the first one there, of course, so I got to work. I approached and introduced myself, ready to ask all the questions I had up until now. The witch, Isolde, was cordial, at first... but then I went inside."

Through the doorway, the illusory scene shifted one last time to a small sitting room with a bubbling cauldron in the middle, and on the wall, a display featuring dozens of eyeballs, each floating in an individual jar. "Each one, a wish granted, and I could just as easily be up there by the end of the day."

A grin splits Avel's face

"The game was officially afoot, everything up until now was just a precursor to this conversation, and the pressure was unlike anything I've ever felt before."

"So of course I asked the obvious question, what's the deal with the fog? According to Isolde, it follows her around wherever she goes, she doesn't actually have control over it. She was pretty bitter about it actually, which caught me off guard, but then it clicked. Eyes... she was collecting eyes to see! My conclusion delighted her, she revealed that yes, she can scry through any of the eyes she owns, back to their original owner."

Avel leans forward in his seat

"And with that connection made, she finally asked the big question, 'what is your wish'? I said I had no wish, because any wish granted would take away a lived experience."

Avel waves his hand, and the illusory cauldron begins to bubble and shimmer "She simply said 'are you sure about that?'"

The surface of the cauldron distorts, showing a handful of battered figures surrounded by more dog-like creatures. "Isolde was more than happy to call her dogs off, in exchange for..."

Avel taps his eyepatch

"One"

He taps it again

"Single"

He taps it one last time

"Thing."

Avel looks around the table for a moment

"Now, I sat there for a long moment, weighing my options. I couldn't run back to the party at this point, I didn't know where they were in the fog. It was also becoming increasingly obvious that fighting Isolde was out of the question. So my only option was to..."

Avel grins

"Give her a great counter offer. I told her not only would I give her my eye, but if I was the last eye she ever took, I would live the most exciting, fulfilling, complete life she has ever seen."

Avel's grin widens

"And if I fall short, she can take my soul."

"At that, Isolde laughed, she laughed, and laughed, and laughed... and then she accepted."

"By the time the procedure finished, the party was waiting outside, tending to their injuries. I stepped out and told them Isolde wouldn't be causing any more trouble by granting wishes in exchange for this..."

Avel taps his eyepatch one last time

... Delightful makeover."

Avel stands, slowly rising from his seat

"They never got the whole story, that's between me..."

Avel flips his eyepatch exposing his left eye, no scars, no wounds, just an empty hole.

"... and my delightful audience”

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