The Jager family has a long blood stained history in the line of monster slaying. The family takes pride in their work, and the help they bring to any community that reaches out to them. What makes the family so special is the silver eyed blood line that runs through their veins giving them the source of their power to defeat any evil that crosses their path. The silvered eye allows them to peer into their foes and find its weakness to exploit it along with many other abilities later as the carrier grows. However this bloodline was never actually a blessing but a curse, those who are cursed with this line each night relive the painful deaths of those before them in their dreams. Some have been known to take their own life due to the lack of rest and the painful dreams to escape it, only the strongest of the clan survive to use it for what it's worth and carry on the family name. Alestor was raised as a half elf by his father Jacob Jager (Human:Deceased: Carrier of blood line passed to Alestor) and mother Amellia Harllow Jager (High Elf: Alive).

Now Alestor did have a childhood but not a very normal one growing up. While others kids went to school, playing tag, and pretend warrior, Alestor was taught by his mother and father at their manor and was a fighter at the age of 16 slaying his first vampire. The Jager blood rain thick in his veins and he took the family business serious. Though one could tell through his tired eyes the nightmares effected him so, but it was his loving mother and father that kept him strong reminding him that it would be up to him to fight off the creatures of the night soon and carry on the family legacy. At the age of 20 Alestors father had past on at the horrible death of a warlock known as Ember VonTelsor setting his father ablaze in an ambush. Each night Alestor could hear his fathers screams and feel his skin burn as his fathers did causing him to wake up coughing a choking as if smoke filled his lungs.However this death didn't stop Alestor, it only made him stronger and more determined to stop the evils of the night.

At the age of 21 Alestor packed his bags and kept his fathers journal, bow, and a note from Kharon close to him as he was ready to set off on his own adventure to rid the lands of evil plague and help those in need. Giving his mother one last hug goodbye Alestor now travels off to continue his family legacy.

Side Notes: Unlike most half elfs that can take a half rest to be fully recovered, Alestor needs a full rest to be recovered due to the curse. Alestors Mother is still alive and has been known to communicate with him through animals, with which he also responds with. Tactful thinker, likes to known his target and surroundings before charging in. Quick to make friends, and a soft spot for the safety of children. Lover of books and knowledge. Clean freak. Doesn't like to bother others with the talk of his nightmares. The Jager family are also well known authors of books on monsters, the slaying of monsters, and survival.

Born to a mid-ranking priestess who hailed from House Mizzrym, Azz'dreya enjoyed a life of luxury due to her family's position in Menzobarranzan. Before she mastered the ability to trance, she dreamed of the moon without knowing what it was. She occasionally would enter a true sleep even after she learned her meditations, just to get a glimpse of the strange, beautiful orb that called to her. That peculiar habit, along with her interest in the world above, set her apart from her peers - she was basically the "weird kid" and none of the drow her age wanted anything to do with her. As such, her childhood was lonely except for her nannies and tutors. One tutor, a deep gnome named Borbin, taught her things about the surface world, including the moon, when none of the others would. He was dismissed as her tutor quite swiftly after.

Shortly after she passed her first century she decided she would leave the Underdark and venture to the surface world, telling no one of her departure. It was a full moon when she emerged from the tunnels after a long, dangerous journey. As she walked through the woods in search of civilization, she came upon a circle of elven druids performing rituals to honor Selûne. They were distrustful of her at first, but seeing her genuine curiosity and desperation for belonging, the archdruid of the circle agreed to let her stay and learn. Azz'dreya considered it fate that led her to them, and before long she was officially initiated into the circle. She soon fell in love with one of her circle-mates and the two were engaged to be wed at the next full moon, but before they could marry, Azz'dreya's past came back to haunt her.

Bounty hunters sent by her aunt waited until the archdruid was away from the small settlement and attacked in the middle of the night. Azz'dreya has few memories of that night, as she was knocked unconscious and dragged away from her new home, but she does remember smoke and fire and terror. She was marched all the way to Velkenvelve, and when the bounty hunters reported that she participated in the worship of a goddess that was not Lolth, her aunt promised to work her nearly to death before sending her back to Menzobarranzan to face judgment.

The product of an unlikely union, a willing partnership between a barbarian woman of the Northern Wastes and and Orc cast out from Dark Arrow Keep, Ollurim's life has been one of duality. Born in a Druid Conclave in Lurkwood, he was taught the necessity of balance from an early age. The druids of Melora taught Ollurim to neither fear, nor condemn, the savagery of the wild, but to live in harmony with it.

As a child he learned to gather, as a teen he learned to hunt, and as an adult he learned to smite the ruin of undead and aberrations of the world. To Ollurim's consternation, he developed no Druidic power, but on the night his father went missing, he suffered a fevered nightmare. His half-orc blood was pounding in his head, echoing with the whispers of Grummsh, rage cried out in him, boiling in his chest, begging to spill forth from dreams to waking life. Fear scratched at his mind and was suddenly shattered. Grummsh's whispers were hushed, and his disquiet soul found peace. Melora mercifully wrenched the influence of evil from him and bathed him in the ferocity of her light, a pure force of nature. She called out, speaking of balance between two worlds, between Orc and Human, between life and death.

"The world will need those who walk the paths between, who serve the life and death. Arise and carry out my will, Ollurim. Go as my champion to where the balance is upset and work to right it. Awaken, Cleric." With every word, he felt divine strength give succor to his limbs, his burdens seemed so inconsequential, and he felt the thrum of nature's pulse. His eyes opened and the dream did not fade, the burden of being was no longer so heavy.

For his entire life Ollurim had known internal strife and outward harmony. How fitting it was, he thought, that on the day he found internal harmony he would learn of the strife in the world. All thirty years he'd seen Orcs, Elves, Humans, and the occasional fey creature live in concord, working together to build the conclave and keep the balance but on that day he was delivered news that his father, Urzog Halftusk, had been mortally wounded, laid low by a hunters arrow simply for being an Orc. He was able to spend his fathers dying moments with him, one hand on his forehead, easing the passage, the other tightly holding his mother's. With the blessings bestowed on him by Melora herself, he performed last rites, speaking words he didn't know the source of, sanctifying Urzog's corpse to prevent the scourge of undeath.

Ollurim spent the next eight years serving the balance quietly in his woodland home, fighting side by side with the Druids against the rising undead. As much as he craved the voice of the wildmother to grace his dreams again, she didn't come, not until now... not until she called him south to the town of Nightstone, pressing him into service to ease the dying and restore the balance upset by the giants.

I lived as a child, in a small village in a forest, at the foot of a giant tree. Living with my mother Renna Aexisys and with my father Dûrion Ylvana. My mother was very sick and could not even get out of bed; so it was my father who brought home enough money to eat, we were a very poor family.
One day I found a little girl I didn't know, a halfling, who seemed lost, I asked her if she wanted to play, but she seemed to be crying. I approached her gently asking her what had happened, and she, still sobbing, replied that her mother, her only relative left alive, had died that morning stabbed by an elf.
My father and I took her to our house to calm her and she asked us if we knew a certain Dûrion Ylvana, it was the name his mother used to scream as she was stabbed. At those words my father and I cleared our eyes, I started to cry and he left the house.
The halfling didn't understand what had happened until he returned with a dagger in his hand.
I stood in front of the halfling to protect her and screamed as much as possible to make myself heard from outside the house. Luckily a convoy of guards was passing outside on the way back from the little halfling's house. They entered and saw my father wielding that dagger and threatening us, then arrested him but first managed to slash a blow that hit my cheek, disfiguring it. From that moment, with my father behind bars, my very sick mother and an extra halfling in the family, we had to find a way to bring food home. So me and my new halfling sister, Anne Ylvana, started stealing.
One day I returned home happy after having stolen ten gold coins from a nearby merchant. The moment I entered the lobby door I heard Anne crying, I ran to her, she was in our mother's room, and I knew immediately that the illness had killed her. I tried to calm Anne, without good results, she ran out of the house creating trouble for the whole village, staining even more the name of the Ylvana.
I spent 30 years in the shadow of the insults and rumors about my family.
One day, I was about 35 years old, guards came into what must have been my home telling me that it was time for me to leave. I had been caught stealing too many times and, even if it had been difficult to make that choice, I had to leave that place, I was banned from that day, all my family or what's left of it was banned from that village.
I wandered through the forests of the place listening to the voices that passed in the wind, and I thought I was free. Until a fateful day when passing through an inn I saw a wanted poster with my face on it.
I could not escape in time when adventurers took me and carried me by guards. I had to undergo 3 years in prison with a halfling reduced very badly before being able to escape thanks to the help of the aforementioned chick. There was something familiar about that halfling but I didn't pay much attention while in the darkness of the night we ran away. During the escape she broke a glass in a small window big enough to let her pass, while I chose to go through another area, the guards heard the sound of windows and I'm not sure she could escape. But I managed to escape from the sewers and I knew that from that moment I had to keep my face in the dark as much as possible.
I found some old rags with which I made a cloak with a hood and a bandana that I tied at the neck to cover my face more.
So I started to wander through the lands of my continent. In every inn that I entered, there was always a wanted notice board with my face on it, but I didn't notice only mine. I noticed another face very familiar to me, it was Anne. She too was apparently wanted, and apparently she also knew how not to be found.

I am now 42 and have traveled all over my continent and a lot of questions have been created in my mind.
I would like to go back to my father, I would like to meet my sister again, I wish I could greet my mother. Although I know that this is not possible.
But I still have a strange feeling that my sister is somewhere. I could try to change the continent, but I should equip myself better. I do not believe that a simple dagger and a long bow can suffice to defend myself. I then tried to steal two short swords from an old blacksmith from a coastal village, succeeding, and then embarking for another continent.

// Here is where our campaign started, in a ship to another continent.

Born to a poor family in Waterdeep, Simon barely knew his father. He constantly argued with his mother and eventually ran off to make something of himself. After running into a group of thieves, he joined up with them and learned some tricks of the trade, but since he was young he was relegated to lookout duties in and around the base.

One night, he was allowed to join on a proper heist. Some noble was out of town and there were easy pickings to be had. What the thieves didn't expect was a group of gladiators to defend the manor with song. When Simon found himself face to face with a massive half-orc woman, he froze. He couldn't whistle a warning, call out or even move.

The half-orc picked him up by the shoulders and said, 'If you have the stones to face me, come find me,' before throwing him aside and barging into battle with the other thieves who were completely unaware by the gladiators.

Pride is a funny thing. Even when you're scared out of your wits, it can send you flying into danger. Simon hid himself in a pile of garbage and followed the gladiators back to their arena, which was little more than a dirt pit inside a huge tent. The crowd cheered for the half-orc, who was throwing her arms out in victory and posing as her opponent was dragged away.

'Come on! Ain't none of you men got the stones to face me?' The woman yelled.

Simon jumped down and pointed his rusty, pitted sword at her. 'I do,' he said. The arena was silent, then everyone burst out laughing.

'You? With that piddly little blade? Well, it is a good idea to cool down after exercising...not like that last one put up much of a fight,' the woman said as she hefted her warhammer over her shoulders.

Simon's feet trembled for a moment, but he maintained an air of confidence and to his credit he did manage to last more than five seconds, but everything went all black after the sixth. When he came to, all the fighters and a gnome in a top hat were standing around him.

After he explained his story, the gnome rubbed his beard. 'Well, we can't let you go back to a life of crime, especially with a piddly weapon like that. No, the only solution I can see is you join up with us and make something of yourself, something that people cheer for. How's that sound?'

'That's all I ever wanted, sir,' Simon said.

'Hear that Stones? You finally got your Sticks!' A wiry tiefling said.

'Oh shut it Straw,' Stones said.

'Heh, Sticks and Stones,' a surprisingly muscly elf said.

'You shut it too, Bryx!'

'Hey, can my stage name be Styx, like the river? It'll sound so much cooler,' Simon asked. The gnome burst out laughing and agreed.

Years later, the duo of Styx and Stones were well renowned, but their traveling arena fell on hard times. Eventually, all they could do was sell what they had and go their separate ways. Straw and Bryx got married and settled down to run a farm, while the gnome seemed to vanish in a puff of smoke. Styx wanted to stay with Stones, who had become kind of like a sassy, mildly alcoholic aunt to him, but she refused, saying that she had to leave on a spirit quest, to places where he couldn't follow. Thus did our hero find himself alone. Again. He was too proud to return home and moving in with Straw and Bryx made him feel like he was imposing and he couldn't do that, so what could he do?

That's when it hit him: he could be an adventurer! He'd met plenty in his time and the work wasn't that dissimilar to what he already did and dusting off his thieving skills would give him an added edge over other front-line combatants and besides: the adventurers he'd met were a fairly dour lot. Someone had to show them how to do this job with a bit of flair!

Prowl was born to a Tiefling mother, heir to a cult worshipping her infernal ancestor.  His mother paid little attention to him, but was jealous of his love and attention.  A number of nursemaids and nannies disappeared suddenly from his life before he was old enough to (mostly) care for himself.

He grew up alone for the most part, no one will to risk his mother’s displeasure by befriending him other than his old tutor, a disgraced scholar.  He spent his time among the moldering tomes and decaying books of the cults library, where all of the gathered arcane and blasphemous secrets the cult had gathered were kept.  He learned not only of devils and demons, but also of the Great Old Ones, the ones that were there before the universe itself.

When he was seventeen, Prowl was summoned to his mother’s presence and given a girl.  Talia was not much younger than he, and he assumed that she was to be the mother of his children.  She became his confident and first true friend and he swore never to hurt her.

On his eighteenth birthday, his mother ordered him to ritually sacrifice her to summon the Devil worshipped by the cult.  Instead, he stole power from a Great Old One to kill his mother and her followers.  Doing this made him a Warlock.

Talia was shattered by what she experienced and Prowl realized he could not take care of her properly.  She needed help that he could not give to heal from her experiences.  He found her family, and returned her to them along with much of the cult’s treasure.  He could not stay there because he was a tiefling and son of their child’s kidnapper, and instead became an adventurer.

In the beginning was AΩ, the First Power. AΩ spent eons alone in the infinite nothing, until one day they desired more. AΩ reached out, and existence was born. At first it was nothing more than swirling atoms, the building blocks that eventually formed into matter. AΩ thought for a time, then reached out again, and the formless matter began to take shape, and reality exploded into being. Having created a foundation, AΩ next pooled the four elements into separate planes, and from these planes drew the necessary materials needed to create the endless variety of existence. The Material Plane became the drawing board on which AΩ created, destroyed, and created again.

First, they created the universe, and filled it with a seemingly endless number of worlds, all warmed by suns that filled the skies of these worlds with a tapestry of stars. AΩ experimented, and life began to take shape. Having tested, erased, and tested again on countless worlds, eventually AΩ settled on a world with which they were truly content. This world was a sparkling blue and green gem that hung in the blackness of space, a perfect world to populate with the life AΩ had been creating. On a large landmass, AΩ placed a wide array of plant and animal life. Finally, certain of their own ability, AΩ placed the First People, the People of Light. These beings were small pieces of AΩ themselves, formed from AΩ’s own inner Light. They could roam, build and multiply, however without the spark of supreme power that AΩ themselves had. The beings were intelligent, and learned to tap into the underlying power of existence, giving birth to magic. Their society flourished, but eventually reached a tipping point.

Their ability to learn and evolve plateaued, and they, like AΩ did eons ago, desired more, though they had become too lazy to reach for it themselves. They begged and pleaded with their creator for more power, but AΩ was steadfast, almost cruelly so. The First People declared war upon their creator, and began pouring all their accumulated knowledge into an attack upon AΩ. To everyone’s surprise, they succeeded in wounding their creator. Seeing that the beings were still too immature to wield such immense power, AΩ made a decision. They reached down into the First People, and with a great wrenching motion, split the Light into a myriad of hues, all retaining some, but not all of the abilities and traits of the original whole. Thus, the varied lesser races of the world came into being. Humans, elves, dwarves, orcs, goblins, demons, angels, and many others poured out from the Light.

AΩ saw that these varieties of being would require guidance, so they made another decision. Reaching deep inside their own being, AΩ split their self into lesser, yet still powerful pieces, and the gods were born. As their original consciousness fractured and began to fade as it evolved into the new forms, AΩ made one last decision. Hurling down a great cataclysm upon the land of the First People, AΩ laid waste to the continent, hoping to hide their failure and prevent future civilizations from trying to reform the full power of the Light and threaten all of existence with it.

The races of the world were thrust into evolutionary infancy, and as they began to learn themselves again, they fled the cradle of life, and spread out across the world. Instinct told them their first home was no longer suitable, and the continent was all but abandoned. Millenia passed, and the knowledge of AΩ and the First People faded into legend, then to fairytale, then was all but forgotten. However, AΩ left a spark of the truth buried deep within the hearts of a few of the new gods, so that in case someday, someone attempted to re-gather the power necessary to claim the power of the Light for themselves, the gods would be ready, and could take the necessary steps to protect creation.