Tanndriel

At first sight, the nature of the gray cloaked figure is disguised. Average height; just under six feet; perhaps a lock of brown hair escapes the shadowed hood. An air of mystique surrounds the silent man. Perhaps his quarter staff provokes a vision of a cudgel wielding sorcerer. The weapon is planted firmly on the ground and only a trained fighter would recognize that his stance did not allow the force of his weight to flow through the weapon and upset his balance.

Closer inspection begins to reveal the elf's true nature. The sides of the hood peaked by ears long and pointed. Odd bulges, folds, and angles of the billowing baladrana divulge the martial nature of the elf where it falls over the scabbards of two swords, a short bow, and a quiver of painstakingly assembled feathered arrows.

Pulling his hood back, Tanndriel is unmistakably a woodland creature. He gazes through the slits of gray piercing eyes. His oversized elven ears protrude above a tangle of unkempt brown hair, and his nose coming to a point, but they suite him.  His skin is smooth, hairless, but often streaked with dirt. His baggy clothes are moss green and also far from clean.

As his companions have spent time with him, they have discovered that he is very private; he keeps his possessions packed away, organized, and probably inventoried regularly. He also respects the privacy of others, and is not in the least bit nosey.

The elf keeps an exercise regimen involving stretching and slow motion exertion. Often these exercises are done quietly while on watch or early morning. Occasionally he can be seen performing contorted moves or feats of strength definitely beyond the realm of normal capability.

Despite the concern and care he gives his body, Tanndriel is self-conscious about his lanky body. He tries to shed clothes in dim light or alone. Although he is very thin, the rare glimpses of his physique others are afforded show that he has tight, corded and veiny muscles; practically no body fat. He is definitely not normal looking. The padded armor he wore concealed under his loose tunic and leggings made him at least look proportionate while clothed.

While Tanndriel hones his body with solitary stretching and exercise, he often incorporates his weaponry in the routine. He is almost art in motion when he wields his two blades while performing difficult faux battle maneuvers. He does practice with his weapons alone too; hacking and slashing vigorously but deliberately. He really enjoys sparring and encourages his companions to join him; goading them if need be.

Tanndriel eats on the heavy side of normal, but does miss the occasional meal. Food does not seem to be one of his great pleasures; he seems just as content with salted meat as freshly roasted rabbit. He even eats tasteless or unpleasant things if need be without complaint. Food is simply a necessity.

When sitting around a campfire Tanndriel is most often quiet, staring with lost eyes into the flames; especially if listening to Elia's music and voice. He does seem a bit taken with her. Sometimes though, Tanndriel is happy and involved in the campfire talk. His story is long and broken; told only a piece at a time and usually privately, one to one with a trusted companion. But when as they have spent time with the elf, the story has unfolded, the picture became more clear. The pieces get placed together as his private tales are whispered between his friends. Even aspects of the mysterious elven culture have been revealed.

Apparently the long-lived elves did not have strong family ties, for Tanndriel never spoke of parents, brothers, or sisters. From what they could tell, young elves lived for many decades in the forest with other young elves. Tanndriel called it the Time of Frolic. It must have been an idyllic time for him; a wistful glint crossed his eyes when he recalled the first stage of his life. It was probably the place he returned to while staring into the campfire and listening to the murmur of others' conversation or the dulcet music Elia sung and strummed.

Tanndriel unintentionally revealed that had fallen in love at some time during this time of his life; although he never used that term to describe his feelings. Cerinnel was her name; and she sang in voice that Elia claimed Tanndriel heard in hers.  He did not speak of why his love was unrequited, but, whatever the reason, Tanndriel abandoned his passion for the woman for devotion to a purpose; the Fyrith, Protectors of the Fey.

As the last stage of training, the Fyrith had to leave the protected faerie forests for the mundane lands. He has spent two years on his own wandering, watching, learning to survive the harsh wooded terrain. Trappers from Osama were the first humans he encountered and chose to follow. He then cautiously appeared more and more frequently in the village, posing as a wandering hunter.

He was not impressed with what he observed. In general the villagers seemed unhappy; bandits were preying on them and the merchants that supplied them. There did not seem to be much hope of better times; the elven ranger took it to be his mission to help them. He tracked the bandits, but too numerous to battle himself, he sought allies. The group that appeared in Osama attracted his attention, especially since they traveled with another elf; although that turned out to be a disappointing measure.

Tanndriel's horse Kramer was killed by a giant spider.