Kael'rin Darethar (Kael)

[SpaceGhost]

Kaelrin Darethar ​

Kaelrin Darethar was born on the outskirts of Mistledale, where the deep green of Cormanthor Forest meets open farmland. His mother, an elf of the forest, left when he was still a child; some say called back to her kin, others whisper she simply couldn’t stay among men. His father, a seasoned ranger of the Dalelands, raised him alone, teaching him to track deer, read the wind, and listen for danger in the trees.

Life was simple until the drow raids began. Travelers vanished on the forest roads; farmers whispered of shadows with red eyes watching from the woods. Kaelrin’s father grew harder, more silent, always preparing for the next attack. When his father was injured defending a caravan, Kaelrin made the decision to leave Mistledale; to learn more of the wider world and return one day as someone strong enough to keep their home safe.

Now, he walks the roads with more heart than experience, a young ranger with a bow too new and a dream too big. The world beyond Mistledale is larger, stranger, and harsher than he imagined; but he faces it with steady eyes and quiet determination.

Description​

The young half-elf stands lithe and ready, his frame built more for agility than strength. He has fair skin touched by the sun and slightly angular features that betray his elven blood; high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and subtly pointed ears peeking from beneath his tousled light-brown hair. His green eyes are alert and earnest, filled with the mix of curiosity and uncertainty of someone new to the wider world. Dressed in weathered greens and browns, his cloak and tunic blend with the forest’s hues, a bow gripped firmly in his hands. There’s a natural grace in his movements, though still unrefined; more instinct than training.

 

[SpaceGhost]

Excerpts from his journal

Date: Unknown

This bow is utter rubbish. The string’s come undone three times this week; once in the middle of a scrap with a goblin along the Southway. Had to fall back on the spear, though that snapped not long after.
Pa would be fit to burst if he saw the state of my kit. A ranger minds his senses and his gear, he'd say. But it’s been nothing but mud and rain for days, and all I can think of is a warm hearth and a dry bed.

Tom and Alan come to mind often. No doubt they’ve joined the Mistledale Rangers by now, standing against the Drow in the deep woods. I still don’t understand why Pa sent me away instead of letting me fight beside them. Every dale still standing is sending its sons and daughters north to face the darkness, yet he packs me off with a half-broken bow and tells me to “see the world first.”

Well, so far, the world’s been nothing but cold, wet, and miserable.