"Relic" Degalderan

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Name: Naelorn "Relic" Degalderan
Race: Or-tel-quessir (Wood Elf)
Age: 136
Height: 4'11"
Weight: 103 lbs.
Hair: Dark brown, worn long and straight, well kept
Eyes: Green
Skin: Lightly tanned and smooth. A two wide scars run parallel on his right arm, as if run through by a sword. Also missing half of his left ear.
Physique: Wiry, lithe and thin - while the man was in good physical condition, he was slender from his elven heritage.
Occupation: Scout - Undead Hunter Initiate
Birthplace: The High Forest
Description: For an elf, the man who refers to himself as 'Relic', certainly has a rough edge. He did not completely lack the grace that all elves tended to have - for in movement he was fluid and nimble, fast even for an elf - but he seemed to lack the silken social graces of his kin. The man tended to wear rather plain clothing - often times garbed in greys, blacks, and browns his garments left much to be desired compared to the flowing garments of his homelands - it seemed this particular elf favored practicality over ephemeral glossamer finery one might find on traditional elves.

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History:

Life had never been kind to Naelorn, never knowing his parents and left as an orphan, the start of his life was no kinder to him than the later years of it would be. Perhaps it was this uphill climb that shaped his entire youth that created the steel pillar of grim determination in the elven man, that resounding strength that seemed to always get him through - that never let him give up or give in.

In his youth Naelorn was passed around to several caretakers, essentially a child of the small village he grew up in - always close to the druids that helped guide their community, he developed a feel for the woods at a young age. Once old enough to train into a profession, Naelorn began to train as a scout for the elven militia - to defend his home and spot enemies before they were a threat to those who lived in that corner of the High Forest. It was in scouting that he learned the path of what commonly was referred to in other lands as a "ranger" - archery, melee combat, defensive footwork, the use of various weapons and armors, stealth, and how to keep a keen eye out on your surroundings. It was this far in life that things had been fairly typical.

For a while, things were even keel for the elven man - life was no more difficult or easy than it needed to be, that is until that fateful night several years ago. Humans had encroached on the High Forest, men and women who passed through those ancient woods garbed in grey robes, carrying with them arms and armor befitting of soldiers - such a thing was not common in the wood for any reason. Naelorn was sent out with several other rangers, tasked with learning of the human's purpose and destination. Getting the information was no more difficult than confronting the humans directly - they gladly told them all they had to know, and were brought back to the village with their dire news.

The men and women trespassing in the woods were followers of Kelemvor, men and women from Waterdeep they had come to the forest to seek aid - aid that the elven council would deny them. The sword coast had been engulfed in plague - an unnatural event that caused the dead to rise from their graves. The humans were allowed to rest for a single night by the council before being given an escort to the other side of the woods by Naelorn and the others, removed from the woods as the elves turned inwards to decide what they would do about the plague that would soon be upon their homeland. It was the last time Naelorn would see his home. The trip took days - the High Forest being hundreds of miles across, and by the time they breached the southern edge of the forest near Loudwater, the town was a desolate waste. Buildings burned from fires forgotten and untended - and those that were not burning were in shambles. Doors had been bashed in, bodies littered the streets, and worse still - some walked about with unnatural life.

Naelorn had seen enough, and heard enough on the trip there from the humans to know what the right path to take would be. Despite the council's decision to not lend the human order any aid, Naelorn declined to head back with the other rangers - it was with this group that he would remain for the next few years.

The group was small, six individuals, all human. Their leader, Hamir Goodfellow was an older man, his face and hair white with age. With him was two other younger men, a paladin - Mayhew Hildebrand, and his brother Jarman Hildebrand, who was a priest like Hamir. Three women accompanied the group, Alarica McDunnough, a stern woman who was a crack shot with a crossbow and seemed to accompany the group for navigation; Tavia Leticia, a dark skinned female mage from some desert far away; and Alexiana Hildreth, a slender woman from Waterdeep who claimed to be a "professional locksmith and trap navigator".
As small of a group as they were, their time surviving as they sought others to assist in fighting the undead horde was not easy - at times they would work alone, acquiring what supplies they could while struggling not to lose members of the group. It was on one such supply run in the small town of Secomber that Alarica was lost - the woman not getting out so much as a scream when the undead got to her - the group forced to retreat and abandon the town early on.

News would come along the Trade Way that various groups were gathering in Baldur's Gate, setting up a quarantine and safe zone, while attempting to find ways to beat back the undead - so the group turned their way south along that long and winding road - hundreds of miles between them and that fabled town.

It was along the way that two more would be lost - Mayhew and Jarman, both cutting lumber for the nightly fire found themselves ambushed by not the undead, but bandits - individuals driven by greed, wanting to profit off of the unfortunate souls heading to Baldur's Gate for hope. The bandits were slain in the attack, but the two young men could not be saved, not even by Hamir's potent healing magics.

Downtrodden and nearly halved in number, the group continued their way to Baldur's Gate, where they would spend the next year and a half helping those in the quarantine quarter while hearing news of various militias and military groups moving into the sword coast. In the meantime Naelorn grew closer to the group he was with, learning of Kelemvor and his teachings, but never feeling a strong connection to his faith - as well as closer to Alexiana as well. There was a certain strength in that woman that he could never figure out - his constant comments about how surprised he was to find such wisdom and maturity among short lived humans earning him the nickname Relic among his Kelemvor companions.

It was with this group of three humans that he would eventually set sail to find the island where the plague began. Three boats filled with eager adventurers would set out for that fateful place far away - but only one would eventually arrive, and just barely at that. Ocean storms and long days at sea took a toll on passengers and vessel alike - the boat no longer sea-worthy without repairs by the time they made landfall, leaving them stuck as they sought out survivors.

For four months they wandered the desolate cities and ruins of civilization, making their way from the coastline towards Kalaram - but outside the city the dead grew hungry. It was on that fateful night that the surviving crew of Relic's boat learned of the midnight hour - and the unholy frenzy that made the undead lash out with renewed vigor. The coming morning only two remained alive - Relic, and Hamir. The old man had been scratched - a simple wound on his arm, but it festered with disease. Fever burned him up from inside, making the man delirious - he knew he was fading fast...the fever only burning hotter as the hours ticked away. By noon that day he begged Relic to do what was right...and by sundown that night Relic buried the man he had killed with his own two hands. A mercy killing for an old friend.

With Hamir's holy symbol hanging from around his neck Relic strode into the city of Kalaram, sticking to the shadows to avoid the undead as best he could...to find out what fate had in store for him next.

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