Summoned from the winds


At 6 feet and 2 inches, Sheften stood tall and strong among his people. Broad-shouldered and sturdy, the Genasi takes to the harsh environment of Ebrenhol well. Radiant blue light pulses through his geometric veins, just beneath the skin, tracing dense patterns across his thick neck and down his arms and chest. The dark glint of well oiled chain-mail shimmers beneath his ragged travelling cloak, and in his wide hands he holds a strong staff, whose colour mottles and changes between greys, like the clouds of a thunderstorm. Bright white eyes peer out beneath a dark hood and ashy grey hair billows under its hem.


Sheften was not born or created. He was simply summoned. Existing previously merely as the raw power of the wind, high above the clouds, until suddenly, upon the utterance of unheard words, he was bound up in a material form. Gasping for the air he once dwelt upon he appeared in a flash of white and blue, upon the cold rough wood of some arcanus’ work table. Grinning with satisfaction upon the happy coincidence was a dark red Tiefling in mage’s robes. Farduk was experimenting with the magic of the winds, the secrets of flight, in hopes of perfecting his dragon form. The Genasi’s appearance was not foreseen, but neither was it ignored. Farduk would not miss an opportunity to exploit new power and immediately began to experiment on the Windlord’s young form. Drawing the bright blue blood from the Genasi’s veins, attempting to distill the elemental magic of the winds from it’s incarnate self. Upon learning what he could, the mage imprisoned him in a cell of his own design. Caustic-forged steel bars and beyond that a curtain of quick flowing bright green acid. Resigned to his new life so far from the breeze’s he knew so intimately, Sheften made the decision to forego the body that the mage had called him into, to reclaim his former freedom. Grasping the burning steel in his hands and plunging his head into the dark green acid, the Genasi attempted to rid himself of his physical manifestation, but in the deluge of corrosive slime he found no new freedom. With pain coursing through his body, his eyes flickered and matched the green that covered his head, and the veins that traced across his body took the same colour. He had not lost his physical form, but he had changed his elemental manifestation. The acid no longer burned him and with a thought his body dissolved into the same liquid and he surged through the bars, consuming the two guards at his door. With his new found freedom, Sheften found he could regain his initial form, but also learned to master his new one. Searching the Sorenthorn valley following rumours of a dragon, an imitator of the skies, Sheften pursued his creator, seeking vengeance upon him who stole both his freedom above the skies, and his elemental powers below them. The Genasi was no longer just the Windlord, content to reign above the clouds. He was now also Sheften, the Acid-Form, who longed to inflict the pain that had been so unjustly wrought upon him. He followed the dragon across the mountains into Ebrenhol, to Josle, one last stop before Farduk’s stronghold in Eudel.


The Prophecy of the Group matt_dueck_9