PC Spotlight - Alexa of Waterville

As promised, another character spotlight for our newest player. We have Alexa of Waterville, the Wood Elf Druid. As a reward for a kick ass (and lengthy) background, Alexa will have these items. She's also level 4 now, with the rest of the party hence the higher HP.

Lute of Mielikki: This wooden lute with inlaid mother of pearl and silver is said to have blessed by Mielikki herself. With attunement, it grants the player advantage on performance checks that utilize songs from it.

Whistle of the Lythari*:*** This whistle is made of bone with a beaded chain to go around the wearer's neck. When blown as an action, a nearby wolf will come to aid the blower, if one is within 1 mile. It will remain as if summoned by Conjure Animals. The whistle cannot be used again until the next moonrise.

Alexa of Waterville - Wood Elf Druid

Waterville is a settlement of few splendors. No more than a hundred wood elves roam the narrow dirt paths that together weave a maze of rounded, moss-lined hovels, a modest collection of homes and shops that meet almost every need for the elves that reside there. Few splendors, sure, but these wood elves have one great strength and one great weakness: they are known for their magnificent musical abilities, and known just as much for being taken to drink. Often the two go hand in hand, such that a traveler approaching the small encampment of Waterville will hear at equal volume the raucous clinking of bottles, hearty laughter, and shouts of confused but good-natured belligerence, but alongside this a sumptuous chorus of viols, a dusting of delicate pan flutes, expertly blown shawms, and a rousing pulse of drums.

A young female wood elf, still a child, sits among the raucous musicians. She is handed a flask of brown liquor and swigs it effortlessly. She does not laugh as heartily as her friends and family, but regards her cohorts calmly and curiously as they jovially boast and play.

The truly astounding aspect of the Waterville wood elves' musical abilities is that they never train on an instrument—they simply play. Lest you think this is a mark against their musical prowess, it's quite the opposite; the wood elves of Waterville have for generations been instantaneous prodigies at the musical instrument they first pick up as a child. Most gravitate towards a certain instrument before they can even walk, and as if by fate, the village orchestra is always held in perfect balance. The day after a Waterville elder proficient on the viol should pass, a toddler will waddle its way to a lone viol in a shop corner and begin to pluck marvelously.

The young female wood elf's first memory is of picking a splendid but melancholy tune on the lute, one she felt she knew from long ago but could never place. "It's beautiful," her mother had said, "but why so sad?"

Most of the wood elves of Waterville are rangers, spending their days shepherding travelers through the region, safeguarding the nature and settlements around them, and building the features of the wilderness into a comfortable home for their kind and others in service of the goddess Mielikki. They take kindly to the giants of the region, despite the differential in their stature, and welcome any kind to sit at their fire for a drink and a song.

However, the wood elf rangers of Waterville, helpful as they are, consider themselves to be morally superior to all those who pass through their land. They treasure the company of their own kind and pity those who do not possess their knowledge of the beautiful Misty Forest, their boisterousness, their effortless musicality, and their love of Mielikki. And though the goddess Mielikki prefers not to receive direct prayer from rangers, the wood elves of Waterville feel they alone in their superiority are fit to serve her and pray to her directly.

In keeping with generations of tradition, the wood elves of Waterville dedicate and bless each new song they create in honor of their goddess.

The young, pensive wood elf, when she has grown old enough to wander without causing worry, sits in a grove on her own, far from the paths of Waterville. She softly picks her lute, feeling as though the vibrations in the ground are themselves transferring into her hands and her strings. She does not play the song for Mielikki, but for the nature around her and all the gods that bring it about. It's then that she realizes that this desolate grassy knoll is more of a home than her familiar encampment can ever be. She takes a sip of brown liquor and thinks begrudgingly of that unicorn and all it represents. The loud and fanciful worship, the proclivity for advancing societal conveniences amongst the nature that protects them, that presumption and self-importance (elf-importance?)—it nauseated her now (or perhaps was it the bottle that made her nauseous).

She decides that this solitude, this lack of another breathing soul by her side, this is the truly fertile ground for wisdom beyond what her Mielikki-worshipping, ranger family has taught her. It is with pride and a resolute stoicism that she realizes her worship is for nature itself. She is a druid.

She stands, a full head taller than the typical wood elf, looking much like a sapling that belongs just as and just where it is.

She closes her eyes. She breathes in, embodying the isolation. She breathes out, cherishing the isolation.

And then she feels a clumsy nudge on her calf.

Interrupting her meditation and looking up at her meekly is a small, neglected, albino wolf, clearly a runt. "So much for solitude," Alexa thinks, but at once she finds she doesn't mind the creature. After all, it was quite silent as it approached her. "I suppose you lost your pack?" she says, but peering closer at the runt wolf's eyes, she sees that maybe he had left on purpose.

A wild runt wolf appears

Alexa spends several weeks in solitude save for this one small, nearly silent creature, and decides that perhaps she and Runty Wolf make a good pair. He seems to share in her reverence for nature, and he also partakes in four still and meditative hours rather than sleep. What's more, he howls quite on key when she plays the lute to pass the hours. Runty Wolf can stay.

The ranger elves of Waterville notice Alexa's absence, which has now stretched over several months, but they don't mind—she never did seem to be one of their kind. "Always an odd duck," remarks her own mother Aloise, a revered shawm player and local herbalist. "And I suspect she's mingling with the wild elves as she always dreamed she would," Aloise adds with a scoff. The wood elves of Waterville look down in pity upon wild elves most of all.

But it's true, besides occasionally sharing in drink and song with a wandering giant (of which the Misty Forest has many), Alexa meets plenty of wild elves as she and Runty Wolf make the most vacant corners of the Misty Forest their home. They need not converse with the wild elves for Alexa to earn a great respect for their ways. She watches them in their rituals, trades wordlessly for their mysterious goods, and regales them with the occasional tune on the lute, which they seem to enjoy. As she thinks back on the typical Waterville ranger's opinion of this magnificent race, her heart is heavy. She had always sensed a wickedness in her home, and when she looks one of those deemed lesser-than in the eye, she knows she will never be able to explain to her countrymen that they are dead wrong.

"I fear their assumed superiority will be their downfall," she says to Runty Wolf one moseying afternoon, breaking a silence of many weeks.

Nevertheless, Alexa travels back to Waterville on occasion to stock up on sundries, weaponry, news from the wood elves, extra strings for her lute, and of course, some jugs of brown liquor. Every time she visits the village her mother questions her ways of life, beseeches her to praise Mielikki above the forest, but nonetheless embraces her as Alexa and Runty Wolf head back to the thickets, to the wild elves that lack the pretention of Alexa's Waterville wood elf counterparts, and to the druidic practice Alexa had begun to pursue with vigor.

Upon one of her visits back to Waterville, Aloise greets Alexa with news. "King Melandrach of Milenor has heard of your lute-playing," she says, perhaps begrudgingly. "Apparently, unnamed sources tell him that your mastery of the lute is unmatched in its natural beauty," she says, rolling her eyes, but unable to hide a proud smirk. "He requests that you bring your lute to Milenor to regale the royal family. He says you will be compensated."

Having little more compelling to do than return to their beloved forest solitude, which will always wait for them, and indeed in the market for some gold, Alexa and Runty Wolf set off for Milenor. They are received warmly by the king and his sons, and Alexa is given considerable gold for her concert, and even some fine silver liquors. She promises to come back on regular occasion to play for the royal family. To her own surprise, she finds she rather likes the excursion, and the members of the royal family themselves.

As she grows older, Alexa of Waterville finds great joy in meeting elves of many rare classes. She looks to familiarize herself with every outer bound of her elven culture, and use the collective wisdom of her cousins to strengthen her bond with nature. In the occasional trip to the coast, Alexa meets a clan of superbly civilized sea elves with an entirely new bank of natural aquatic knowledge whose surface she can only scratch (though after this encounter she dreams to one day exercise her druidic wild shape as a reef shark and observe their clan more directly). At night, she oftentimes loses herself in a trance of lute melodies only to open her eyes to a collection of lythari glaring at her with intent, yellow eyes, and has even shared with them a swig from her bottle. Alexa swears she saw an avariel once or twice, though even she is not sure whether she simply dreamt of their soft and fleeting presence. Runty Wolf whimpered in joy in those times that an avariel appeared, though, so she maintains that some semblance of shared reality was at play.

Above all, though, the most influential rare elf Alexa encounters is Millburn, a star elf who visits her on occasion to guide her in the ways of druidism. Millburn introduces Alexa to the circle of the moon and teaches her many celestial secrets of the forest. He does not tell her where he comes from, nor does she press to know. Rather, the two practice reverence in nature, compose songs for the earth, engage in wild shapes, and even help Runty Wolf learn how to best serve the land that bore him. He has become adept at sniffing out and ridding the soil of poisonous invasive grasses that will inhibit its fertility.

Upon one of his visits, Millburn cautions Alexa that she should lessen or eliminate her outings to Milenor, stating that he feels a grave danger in their midst. Alexa thanks him but fails to heed his advice, returning frequently to the royal courts. Try as she might, she cannot rid herself of the urge to collect the gold that keeps her constantly supplied of various and sundry splendid liquors, and beyond this, she is plagued by a nagging, yearning, and somehow altogether unnaturally magnetic feeling to see the family. But she never lets her excursions to Milenor last for too long, and return to nature she must and does.

One afternoon, several hours into a meditation that she and Runty Wolf have entered under Millburn's guidance, Alexa has a vision. In her vision, she enters a lodge with high ceilings, rich wooden walls and roofing, and a cold bronze floor.

In her meditative reverie, Millburn greets her and they glide, dream-like, into a room lined with ivy and berries. Inside the room, star elves, wild elves, sea elves, lythari, avariel, and even a collection of wood elves from Waterville all converse and mill about. The circle of the moon shines brightly amongst the lodge's druid inhabitants, and all are equal in respect for each other and, above all, nature. They play music, chant, meditate, and discuss and debate what's best for their beloved Misty Forest, laughing daintily in some cases and heartily in others. Alexa's very soul glows at the sight of it.

Elated, Alexa thrusts herself from her meditation to ask Millburn if and how this image can be made a reality, but he is gone. "Dedicate yourself to the forest," she hears from what seems to be a rustle in the trees, and yet even through all this she can't forget entirely about Milenor.

After several days of searching for Millburn, or at least for any further wisdom about this vision in the wild solitude, Alexa is crestfallen and rather drunk. She meanders through the forest she loves, aimless, until the polite but insistent whimpers of Runty Wolf inspire a weak Alexa to return to Waterville. Runty Wolf's diligent face-led clearing of poison grass seems to have given him quite an ailment, and Alexa knows only one herbalist who can tend to him with proper care.

"Living his runty life in service of the forest, eh," says Aloise as she looks into the mouth of the stunted wolf. "And has he guarded a weary traveler yet? Has he brought another living soul but you into the wonders of our forest?"

"Our forest is a living soul," Alexa replies, sleepily.

For once, Aloise is silent at such a retort. "Is... everything alright?" Alexa asks, making rare eye contact with her mother.

"Yes," Aloise says indignantly. "Well, no." She sighs as she administers a very unpleasant-looking, perhaps still alive and squirming paste to Runty Wolf, who, upon ingestion, is now also squirming. "Child, Mielikki has delivered her wrath to Waterville. She does not take well to rangers praying to her directly, it seems, and though we thought that we wood elves of Waterville were mighty enough to carry such an honor, as we have for generations, I might add!... well, she found that to be, I suppose, a bit vain," Aloise trails off in shame.

"Oh, mother," Alexa feels a pang of empathy. She rather dislikes the emotions that arise during social encounters, she decides. "What has Mielikki done?"

"She's..." Aloise begins, holding back tears. "She's stripped us of our musical abilities."

Alexa swallows another unfamiliar and unpleasant emotional swell. She had a distaste for the uppity attitude of her Waterville cohorts, certainly, but even upon the worst or most self-righteous (elf-righteous?) of them, she would never wish this. Music was their shared language, the antidote to their ills, their celebration, their mourning. How could they go on?

It occurred to Alexa that there was one family whose power, influence, magic, and love for music may be able to help the wretched wood elves of Waterville.

"I shall go to Milenor and return to you with good news," Alexa tells Aloise assertively. "Surely King Melandrach and his good sons Alagarthas and Neronvain can find a way to save your souls. If they owe me one good deed for regaling them over the years, it's this." Aloise smiles uncertainly, a hint of hope in her eyes. Alexa feels the fire of readiness in her feet, embracing the duty to save her kind. As she locks eyes with Runty Wolf, though, she sees that he knows she's excited to run to Milenor for more reasons than this.

—

Alexa and Runty Wolf tear through the forest and head to Milenor, until nearly halfway through the route the great star elf Millburn appears, halting the duo.

"Alexa, heed the wisdom of the earth," he says, towering over her. Alexa is tall for a wood elf, indeed, but the star elves have height that certainly gives meaning to their name, and Millburn's light blonde locks reach closer to the stars than any elf Alexa has ever seen. She looks up and catches his paternally insistent gaze. "Your efforts to meddle in social affairs shall likely be futile; meanwhile this ground on which you carelessly trod is undoubtedly fertile."

"Millburn, I must go," Alexa says, feeling confident but foreign in her new skin that tramples and clomps loudly over the nature that has brought her so much wisdom. "I owe the forest everything, but it is only for my mother and the care of the wood elves of Waterville that I can even owe the forest so much." She feels a drum in her heart as she envisions reaching the royal family but neglects to mention this. Millburn makes it known with his glare that he senses it nonetheless.

"Child, do not abandon the forest," he says, stable and stern like the trunk of a gnarled tree. "You will regret this." But on she traverses.

After an uncharacteristically sober and swift journey, Alexa and Runty Wolf arrive in Milenor. Nobly they stand at the door of the royal family, Alexa focusing mostly on how to best articulate her predicament to the king.

After a few weighty and seemingly never-ending moments, the door swings sullenly open. Alagarthas, one of the king's sons, stands in the frame, looking somewhere near Alexa's knees. "Oh," he says, "Alexa. I'm sorry, I must say I don't think father is in the mood for a melody today." Alexa is thrown by his melancholy; Alagarthas is usually in the brightest of moods, regardless of circumstance. "Oh?" she says, that vague and wholly unnatural feeling in her stomach starting to sink. "Yes," he says, "you see, ah, my brother, good Neronvain, well," Alagarthas clears his throat in a seemingly polite gesture. "He has gone missing."

Alexa looks blankly at Alagarthas, who is still staring somewhere around her knees.

"Well, ah, I wish I had more information for you, Alexa," he says, sounding empty. "Would you like some gold for your troubles?" He hasn't looked up to see that Alexa has already turned and made it halfway to the forest.

For several hours Alexa sits in a clearing, unable to play the lute or even to meditate, only staring at the ground aimlessly while Runty Wolf nudges at her calves. What is she to do? Neronvain is gone, she is surely about to lose the respect and welcome of her family and friends if she can't return their musical prowess, and she has been likely all but shunned from the druids in the circle of the moon for her sleek refusal to heed Millburn's advice. So... now what?

"Greenest," says a raspy voice nearby.

Wild elves are not prone to long bouts of conversation

Alexa is startled from her trance. "Hmm?"

"Greenest," repeats a wild elf about a stone's throw from Alexa's left arm. "The answers you seek are in Greenest."

Alexa looks to Runty Wolf, who is already standing at the ready and sniffing out the swiftest path to Greenest. She takes a swig from her silver bottle and stands. She knows better than to ignore the advice of a wise elf again.

—

After several truly terrible days in Greenest, even Runty Wolf is low in spirit. Alexa has both interrogated many an unwilling and unhelpful stranger and finished the last of her favorite liquors. She's never in her life seen a town so large, and the hustle and bustle of it has driven her to grasp the bottle more tightly than usual. Who knew that large settlements were so chaotic and scorched, with dragons attacking from every angle? She preferred the isolation of nature, sure, but if she had to live in a society, she'd settle back in the small, windy slopes of Waterville in a lute-pluck.

Alexa is starting to get concerned. Is she any closer the answers the wild elf promised she would find? All she's seen so far is a burning town with forsaken inhabitants running like mad from the terror of a dragon cult. Why was she even here? Was this whole journey made on a lark, on the crazed ravings of an elf who truly was nothing more than wild? "I ought not think like the rangers I grew up with," Alexa mutters to herself, stumbling slightly as terror-stricken humanoids flee by. The wild elf must have spoken to her with such direction for a reason.

With no clear idea as to what to do next, Alexa pulls out her lute. She staggers through the streets and plays a soft, sumptuous melody of Waterville, with Runty Wolf trotting lightly by her side. And with a sudden CLOCK and piercing, shrieking pain, all is black.

—

When she awakes, she feels a sharp pain digging into her wrists, which are suspended above her head, which is overtaken with a dull ache. "Runty Wolf?" she exclaims hoarsely. For several hours she sees no sign of her companion, only hooded and drake-like figures passing quietly back and forth before her in a dim, flame-lit cavern.

Later on, she tries again. "Runty Wolf!" this time quieter and weak, but met with a response. "You'll see the runt again if you do as we say."

Alexa pauses, a calmness rising in her that seems to drown out the insanity of the past several days"Who are you?" she asks soberly, noticing the growl and roar of beasts in the background.

"We need not tell you anything," says the voice, thick and gravelly, "but that an esteemed member of the cult of the dragons has heard of your prowess on the lute, and she would like you to play for her."

Alexa stares solemnly at the hooded figure, feeling the rage of a nature betrayed, a dear friend lost somewhere and somehow to this cult, and a village of musicians stripped of their pride, joy, and power. "No," she says, strong and simple.

The dull ache on her head clocks into a sharp WHACK and again, all is black.

—

When Alexa next awakes, it's to a smack in the face from a smelly, bearded wizard.