in timeline a zenlos is born too a an elven wizard and a gnomish doctor and grows to be the most prodigous inventor in the world. one year she singned up for a golem battling competion and finds out that one of contestants golems is powered by a sentient air elemental. she quits the competion and breaks the elemental from the golem the builder of the golem catches them and both zenlos and the air elemental (here by referred to as gust) escape out the window they are chases by the police and caught though won the court trial after proving gust to be sentient and putting the accuser on unsteady ground. after that gust and zenlos become bound to eachother and end up becoming partners

same thing as the first but ends up turning into a plane hopping time traveler after learning the power of weird mist.

same as a but instead of winning the court case they lose and are jailed of course try keeping an air elemental imprisoned so gust and zenlos break out of the prison and beome badly wanted criminals leading to series of events thad made them vigilantes though in one version of this timeline zenlos gets taken to another world by timeline b zenlos and zenlos and gust end starting their life again their.

Finding Who He Is

As a child Vorkash often felt like he lived two lives. The first existed within his dreams. Of voices and spirits taking the form of family, friends, strangers and even animals. His dreams were calming for him and the spirits that spoke offered guidance and teachings, often of the morality of his actions and the actions of others.

In the waking world, this guidance, along with being raised by loving parents, saw Vorkash stand up for those who could not stand up for themselves. Be it an animal hunted by a predator, helping to care for any creatures and tend to their wounds. Or to stand up against bullies, even if to allow someone to flee. Vorkash was not the biggest or strongest. He would lose a fight as often as he won, returning home with a blackened eye, bloodied nose or split lip.

Growing up through his teens he regularly thought that there is always a bigger bully somewhere, prompting him to join a local guard garrison. After many years of training he knew this was his calling, and leaving a proud mother and father behind, Vorkash set off to the larger city where he signed up to join the military. Not a tactical genius, or of noble background, he was destined to always be a grunt on the frontlines, but this is where he excelled. Not the greatest amidst the thousands of soldiers, no legends of glorious victories would recall his name, but skilled and loyal enough to be invited into one of the specialist platoons, where he would go on to prove himself and receive a fine set of armour, an exquisite glaive, and more formidable training in its use. 

The military was his life, where he felt happy, surrounded by brothers and sisters of battle. He rarely left, always a mandatory leave that would see him return home to visit his parents. Until the inevitable day that their time had passed, first his mother, then father, died peacefully from old age. From then on, with nowhere calling him to return, he would venture to the cities, enjoying the festivals and taverns. 

It was in such a tavern that Vorkash first set eyes on Caiyra (C-eye-ra), a beautiful elf singing to the room. With every visit Vorkash heard her voice and felt his heart slow to tunes that would silence the room, or feel his adrenaline surge to an uptempo beat that all sang and cheered along to. It took many visits before Vorkash had the courage to approach Caiyra, an anxious feeling that the battlefield never gave him. And it was many more visits before Caiyra finally agreed to go with him to one of the festivals. 

It was not long before affections turned to love and Vorkash used his earnings as a soldier to purchase a plot of land beyond the city walls. Building a cabin to live in, Vorkash requested a guard station at a nearby fort so he could always be with his wife, and now their two children. Vorkash felt humbled by the love of his family, a love he had often seen in the eyes of his parents.

Losing Who He Was

During a time of manning the fort, Vorkash received his mail that typically came late and to his dismay Caiyra wrote of illness taking her. It had already been a week and that night a blizzard was already in full force. For the first time in his life, Vorkash abandoned his loyalty and position. Grabbing only the gear he had on hand and heading out into the blizzard to return to his family.

It was two days of travel before Vorkash even reached the woods and the blizzard had only increased in intensity. Even during the day gale force winds and thick snow flurries almost darkened the sky to rival the night. His only relief was that the tree canopy had held up most of the snow, making travel easier through the forest. Yet the temperature continued to drop with every hour that passed. Half a day from home, as Vorkash struggled against the winds, the ice began to close in around him. The grass and trees all around him petrified to a deep blue crystal of the cold. The very same cold that took his consciousness. 

Vorkash did not know how he had arrived, maybe in his last moments he had crawled, he cannot remember, but he awoke beside a steam geyser. The only thing that had kept him alive. Barely. The numbness in his fingers and toes were the warnings of frostbite. He did not care. Getting to his feet, he used his glaive as a stick to aid his walk as he stumbled deeper into the forest. Vorkash made it home as the sun rose and the skies cleared.

Stepping into the glade, the dirt and grass was thick and solid, like a frozen lake with an endless depth. The surrounding trees stood tall but still petrified, and to his dismay, the cabin he once built, the timbers similarly crystallized ice. Every step across the frozen clearing felt like a mile of dread as he scaled the few steps of the porch. The warmth of his hand cracked the handle, the frame and the door crumbled like melting ice on a river. Within the open plan, his wife cuddled their two children, wrapped up in blankets on the bed. Caiyra, having been too ill to move or wake, the children too young to know better, the fire went unlit. Vorkash stood motionless, frozen by loss, as he stared through the icy crystal forms of his family.

His heart and body went cold as the grief overwhelmed him, so much so that he felt nothing. But the grief was real. Still stood in the doorway, a flicker of himself knelt beside the bed in a silent scream of loss. The grey toned image flickered behind him, with a deafened roar beaten by the breeze, it threw it’s ghostly glaive at one of the surrounding trees. Flickering again and again the echo of himself struck down the crystalised trees all around.

Vorkash never got his tomb that both he and the emotion fueled echo desired. As the trees crashed down, the sturdy yet brittle crystal shattered. The trees shattered, the cabin shattered, his family shattered. Nothing remained, all was lost. Vorkash stood surrounded by stars, of the specks of crystal in the air, catching the light.

Learning Who He Could Still Be

Vorkash had given up, collapsing and laying there ready to die. But everytime he fell to unconsciousness his dreams were hounded by the echo that blamed him. The emotional form mirrored himself and would not allow him to give up so easily. Vorkash is to live with his failure. 

It was many more days of dragging his feet before Vorkash arrived back at the city. It wasn’t long before he was seen by the captain of the guard, pulled up for charges of abandoning his post and dishonorably discharged. Yet he was still graced by the compassion of the brothers and sisters of his platoon, recognising the circumstances for which he abandoned his post, blessing him with full ownership of the glaive and armour he still possessed. They recognised his days as a warrior on the battlefield were over, but knew he to was still a compassionate person, charging him with the duty to help those where others would look away. 

This lifestyle suited Vorkash. Helping the poor who could only afford a few copper here and there. That was all he needed for a stiff drink to aid his sleep. Vorkash would often have to choose between a bed for a night or bottle of cheap whiskey and it was for this reason Vorkash was often seen passed out in an alleyway somewhere.

His actions did not go unnoticed. An individual of The Lords Alliance would regularly hear about the individuals Vorkash had aided, and so he was offered a room, a place to rest and eat, on the condition he continued to help the poor and the weak, and when needed, accepted the tasks presented to him by The Lords Alliance. (These last two paragraphs are mostly to tie it into the start of the mini series)

Desmond, started his life as an orphan. When he was still a baby, his village was laid to waste by the hands of an undead army sweeping through the forests and fields of the country(up to DM) commanded by (up to DM).

Found wrapped in a blood-soaked blanket, under the rubble that was once his home. A Paladin from the Order of the Silver Hand named Cedric Corthall took him in and raised him as his own flesh and blood.

The Order of the Silver Hand was a group of Paladins that worshipped the God Torm. The Order was made up Paladins and Priests both Human and Elven. Though recently Dwarves were joining the ranks. From the time Desmond was able to walk he had been trained in the arts of Combat, Religion, and Battlefield Tactics.

Desmond grew up in the order as many did before him. The Order took in orphans and people with nowhere else to go. Desmond, however was lucky enough to have a friend while growing up. Broddrick Duvall, The legitimate child of the current head of the Order and next in line to lead. When the two weren't training in the courtyard with Quarter Master Renfry, they were in the archives. Learning all they could from the High Priest Tenel's dusty tombs and scrolls, only to be chased out by the High Priest. They would imagine themselves as their Fathers, fighting on the battlefield against foes so strong and powerful there was no way they would win. In their stories the hero's always win.

At the age of 18, Desmond and Broddrick were inducted into the Order, by The Grand Master and the other four members of the Council of the Silver Hand.

Grand Master Barrett Duvall. He was Broddrick's father a man of intense presence. A Human in his mid 50's with a chest like a barrel of ale and a Warhammer to match his size. Completely bald and a thick white beard that was very well kept and oiled for a man as rough as Barrett. He was a very serious man to everyone but to the boys. He would laugh at their jokes and the pranks they would pull on the others with a very deep and bellowing laugh. But he was also a very firm hand when it came to matters of importance.

General Cedric Corthall. He was Desmond's adopted father. A thinner man compared to Barret but built out of Marble. Cedric had long long hair the he kept back out of his face with a fine mustache. Cedric was a man of speed and elegance. He taught the men how to "dance" and the battlefield rather then go in smashing and slashing. He also knew the importance of a story. He would mesmerize the men with tales, and stories of past paladins of the order. For it was also his job to work with the High Priest on keeping a detailed account of every member of the Order.

High Priest Tenel. She was the lore keeper and leader of the medical division. A High Elf of thin features and many years(260), long white hair and a very pale complexion. It wasn't rare for the recruits of the order to think the saw a ghost or wraith when she would walk the halls. She had very ornate robes and smelled of paper, ink, and herbs.

Builder Banadin Craghammer. He is a stout dwarf with a beard only to be matched by Barrett. A long white beard that hung down past his belt there was fine braids in his beard that had little bone beads with dwarvish runes carved into them. His hair the same color but he was balding on the top and tried to hid it by combing some hair over it. Always had a blacksmiths apron on with all manner of tools hung from the belt. Banadin was in charge of the upkeep and construction of the Fortress. He was also the brewer of the finest ale and spirits the Order had ever seen. You could always find him in the mess hall at night drinking and singing songs of the dwarves. Always looking for a challenger to beat at any contest they could think of so that he could show his dwarven prowess.

Quarter Master Renfry Bishop. He is a Male Human longer in his years then the rest of the humans in the order going on 64 years. Still as sharp as the day he took up the mantle Quarter Master. He was in charge of recruitment and training. He had short white hair, and a clean shaved face. A scar across the right side running from his forehead to jawline cutting across his eye leaving it a pale color and not being able to see out of it. He was muscular for a man of his age testament to his years of combat and training.

The induction ceremony was not something to be taken lightly. Only the strongest of each group would survive The Trials of Light(3/10). This process involved the High Priest using Evocation and Divination magic to cleanse and purify the soul. The process of the trials left those who survived with the trademark white hair that all members of the Order had.

By the age of 24, Desmond had made a name for himself within the Order. A strong Warrior, a righteous Paladin, and a good friend. Just like his Father the right hand to the Grand Master of the Order. Desmond and his childhood friend Broddrick rose through the ranks together since they were inducted into the Order. Constantly trying to out do the other.

By the age of 28 Broddrick and Desmond got their first mission leading men into the field. No more cleaning the weapons and armor of the higher ranking Officers returning from missions covered in only Torm knows what. No more tending to the horses and cleaning the stables. No more helping in the infirmary, cleaning wounds and chambers pots. Their "first real mission" Desmond said to Broddrick.

Their mission was to cleanse a neighboring town of a plague that had been sweeping through the country. Claiming village after village and leaving death and rot anywhere it spread. Upon arrival to the outskirts of town the stench filled their noses and caused a few of the platoon to vomit. The sights were far worse then the smell. Bodies stacked in piles and strewn about the mud soaked streets. A few bodies hanged from the large pale oak tree in the town center.

Just as the platoon gathered in the town center they heard a horrible sound. Guttural growls and snarls. The clamoring of swords being drawn, and the stretching sound of bow strings being pulled back. "IT'S A TRAP!" Broddrick howled. In a blink of an eye, half the platoon had been set upon by skeletons raised from the dead. A few of them still had rotting flesh hanging from their bones. The clang of swords meeting and screams rung in Desmond's hear. This was the first time He had lead men into battle for real. It was nothing like the practice battles that Quarter Master Renfry would run on the recruits. This was real, his men were dying.

Accessing the situation, they were far out number and that number was growing with every second. The bodies of the villagers were starting to come to life, their eyes glowing with a pale green. "Retreat!" shouted Desmond. He looked for his brother across the town center until he made eye contact with Broddrick "Retreat!" he yelled again. Desmond's eyes flashed with a pale green, his chest felt as hot as a fresh iron ingot. He was struck across the chest by a creature they had never seen before. Like a tornado that sprung from the grown the creature was enveloped by a green glow and then disappeared before Desmond's eyes. Then darkness set in.

Broddrick rushed to his brothers body and drug it to the closest building an old barn that was somewhat untouched by the recent attack on the town. Broddrick and the remaining members of the platoon fought off the undead incursion for three nights. The undead would leave them alone during the day to lick their wounds. They had time to wait out the attack, the men however did not. Tending to Desmond with what supplies they had brought and the knowledge they had gained working in the infirmary in the High Priest. The undead formed a circle around the barn to keep them in, as if they were toying with their food. When the sun went down, they would attack. On the last night when they seemed to be thinning the enemies numbers. Broddrick was shot through the heart by an arrow that shinned the same green as the monstrosity that had harmed his Brother.

As the sun began to rise on the forth morning, Broddrick laid on the hay covered floor of the barn with a hole in his chest that filled the barn with a caustic smell. Desmond crawled next to his brothers body with what strength he could muster then pasted out from the pain of reopening his wound. They heard the sound of the horns ringing, The Order had arrived! Having not heard a word from the group for going on a week. The main force of the order lead by Cedric Corthall pushed back the remaining undead until they retreated, disappearing into the mist.

While on bed rest in the infirmary Desmond asked the High Priest for books on the creature he saw the one that vanished before his eyes and left him to die. He read books on undead, vampires, wraths, and ghosts but to no answers. He told the story to his Father that came to visit him. "So he's back..." said Cedric under his breath. "What attacked you was a Lich, and a very powerful one at that."

Cedric told Desmond a story from many years ago. When Barrett and Cedric were still soldiers. They had been sent on a mission to a town similar to the one Broddrick and he were sent to. It was a town that was home to a wizard named Ashan Razac. The wizard had constructed a tower just outside the town that seemed to spring up overnight. He was a great wizard that used his powers to heal the town's folk and bring happiness to the land, until that wasn't enough. He became so devoted to his work that he turned to dark magic to extend his life span and become immortal. Only to fall to Lichdom in the process and forsake the living world. That thing sacrificed every living being in that town to further his research and needed to be dispatched of. When they arrived to the town there was nothing but scorched earth and rubble even the tower of the wizard was gone.

After that, Desmond started to question the Order and the futility of this war they waged. Why his Brother had to die, why he had lived that night. He would never forgive himself for the fate that had befallen his bestfriend.

A week after the attack a pyre was built. It was customary in the Order to burn the dead. Broddrick was no exception, it was a grand pyre they had constructed. It had all of his belongings and things he would need in the next life. He was laid on top of the pyre in his armor with mace and shield in his hands. Then they watched it burn. It was the first time anyone in the Fortress had seen the Grand Master break his imposing presence. He dropped to his knees and screamed to the gods with tears running down his face.

After a two months in the infirmary Desmond was able to return to duty. He had put in a request to the Council for leave of his duties. Stating that he needed to go on a pilgrimage to find his way back to the light. When all he really needed was to breath the fresh air and be away from all this rotting flesh. His request was granted. Partly because his Father knew he needed to find his own path.

Given some basic supplies and his kit; Armor polished so that in the mid day sun it almost looks to be made of silver with blue cloth underneath for comfort. Silver and Blue are the colors of the Silver Hand. A Tabard to go over his armor that bares the Holy symbol of Torm (a right-hand gauntlet held upright with palm forward). His shield and weapon. He made his way out the front gates of the garrison. For the first time since he was a child. Alone, forging his own path.

Born in a Tabaxi nomad village, of the tribe "The Caves of Eternity" which often resided just on the edge of the underdark they were wiped out by a goblin war party.

Found by a drow family he was taken in as a slave and worked his way up to a trusted hunter for the family. Showing much skill with a bow he was given a new name and made an honorary member of house De'erret.

One day after gaining much trust he was allowed to go on a raid against another house, his group was caught off guard by the powerful clerics of house Mae'ghym and he was left for dead. Waking up upon being dumped in a mass grave of dead slaves he clawed his way trough a pile of corpses and made his escape. Living on the run ever since, afraid that either house might want him dead.

He has since changed his name, and makes a living acting as a body guard, guide, or other darker jobs. Merely surviving in a world where he has become alone.

As a young dwarf, I was orphaned while my family was travelling between the mines they worked and our home. Some cowardly Goblins ambushed our party with the help of some Dire Wolves. No one knows the real reason for their attack, but to this day they have not been caught. I was knocked unconscious, and left for dead. After the battle, I came to, and found my family and friends all brutally murdered, and riches taken. I recovered some tools, and made a makeshift grave for my family. A wondering dwarf priest came across me while I toiled, and helped me bury the rest of the party. After saying some prayers to the gods of my family, I vowed that I would do all in my power to avenge their death. I took my father's old war hammer and armour, that he had used when he was a soldier before he became a miner. He took his hammer everywhere he went outside of our home, being suspicious of outsiders with good reason. I went with the priest who led me back to the temple where he served Torm, and he brought me up serving in the temple, learning the ways of Torm and learning more of our race's history. Over time, my grief and desire for revenge abated as I learnt the ways of Torm, and grew in my knowledge or the faith. I became a healer, and learnt how to be a cleric. After time, I had learnt all that I could from Rickon the cleric who took me in and he sent me to Water Deep to further learn my craft........

NOTE: I'm going with the fact that there was some valid reason the armour and hammer weren't taken as well (bit shabby looking, goblins have no use for dwarven armour, it was too well hidden, or they couldn't remove it from the character's dead father easily etc - any of those will do) 

Born prematurely during her tribe's flight from a dragon attack via the Feywild.

Normally a feybirth is a momentous event to wood elves, but this child was horrifically disfigured by their standards as she looked like a human child than the wood elf child she should have been.

Her tribe tried to abandon her to die in the Feywild, but her Paternal Grandfather refused escaping with her and sought shelter within an abandoned temple he found himself stumbling into. Their tribe tried to drag them back out, but this Temple is home to an ancient Celestial Archon named Kestra who granted them sanctuary and her tribe incensed at the intervention cursed the pair to be unable to leave the Temple grounds within the Feywild.

This left only two exits one to the Shadowfell the other to a Prime Material World the latter the tribe remained unaware of until almost a century later.

Her grandfather eventually passed on, leaving the child alone with only her patron deity for company and eventually she ventured into that prime Material World.

She eventually settled down and married using the birth name her grandfather said was hers and Caileyn Rothenel was briefly happy being a herbalist raising a son and trying to be a good wife. However her husband abandoned them after learning of his father and older brother's death using the opportunity to inherit his family lands and title having been persuaded he needed to marry someone more suitable.

His new wife's family didn't want to take any risks and she was forced to flee with her son as they razed the hamlet they lived at only escaping due to her being out gathering herbs and foraging for food with her son along with her when the attack happened.

She fled back into her refuge where she encountered her tribe who had found the temple unoccupied, shocked at the sight of the grown up child and the son she was carrying they chose to help the pair assigning guards in an effort to repair the damage caused by their actions which they now regretted as she hadn't been the only deformed child born after they fled into the Feywild.

She however knew nothing of this, hard as it was learning Caileyn Rothenel had been declared stillborn and they had named her "The Exile" or Edledhia.

She eventually returned to that Prime Material World rebuilding her life as a Herbalist but using a nickname from her childhood (Vall) rather than her the name she once thought was her own.

They sent a guard along with them although her son ran rings around him so completely unprepared was he for the responsibility shoved upon him.

Her son settled down, married another half elven woman and they had a son named Garrett.

Then they were killed during an event that led to various Cults attempting to seize power which included trying to swap Rothenel with its double in the Shadowfell.

Vall attempted to stop this ritual opening a portal to her Refuge by means of the Everlight shrine, the odds stacked against her she faced the certainty she was about to die, when unexpectedly an old foe stepped forward and banished her sending her to this new world.

She suffered terribly from this event including temporary amnesia that let her think she was trying to reach her son after reading a message from him, but all for naught as she had to be rescued from a pack of wolves by a trio of adventurers!

She helped them defeat a fiend preying on the village of Treefoil and fought the bandits she assumed responsible for her son's death.

Her memory returned, reliving her son's death and her selling off her business to pay for them to be raised only to have an evil priest burn their bodies to ash after they were raised right in front of her!

She and the cleric who raised her son barely escaped the Dawnfather Cathedral now firmly under the control of the Banite Cult and recognizing their intentions she tried to stop them only to be banished and still not knowing if she was successful or not.

Now stuck on this new world she has adapted as best as she can, but she is finding it very hard but she fully intends to find a way home to check on the grandson left behind with only one very incapable elven guard protecting him...