Rinarin Vairithil

Many years ago on a mild, moonless summer night in an alley located in the Outer City District of Baldur’s Gate a young elven boy with pale blue skin and navy hair named Rinarin crouched behind some barrels peering out as his father and mother argued with a group of gruff men all wearing dark red clothing. He watched in horror, eyes wide as the men in red viciously and repeatedly stabbed both his mother and father. His entire body turned to ice, rigid and cold, unable to move. Luckily for him the thugs had not seen him duck into the alley and their human eyes could not pierce the darkness to see him. He just remained there frozen in shock until the next morning when his older sister Lenora found him there physically unharmed, but emotionally scarred.

After the events of that night any time he witnessed bullying and violence he would freeze up, unable to move, and had a hard time breathing until the threat had passed. The Outer City was a rough place to live so there were always thugs around. To avoid situations that would leave him paralyzed with fear Rinarin did his best to stay out of their path. He crept about in the shadows of the city, dark alleys, side streets, climbed the walls to the rooftops, and leapt between buildings to avoid any confrontations. He became very adept at sneaking around unseen and unheard.  

His older sister raised him in place of their parents and she was very protective of him. She chased off anyone that bothered him, kept him fed and clothed, and made sure there was a roof over his head. She was his sister, his mother, and his teacher. She was the whole world to him. She did everything she could to erase the memory and heal his scars. She taught him to read and write to keep his mind busy and eventually introduced him to magic in hopes that it would boost his confidence and allow him to get over his fear. He was fascinated by the Weave and immersed himself in his studies, but it did little to ease his anxiety.

Lenora was not one to give up so she tried a different tack and began training him with the weapons of his elven heritage. She guided him through a series of dance-like thrusts, slashes, and footwork using a light slender blade. The movements were slow and precise at first which allowed him to enter a meditative trance as he went through the motions. It brought him a sense of calm he had not known since terrible incident of his youth. He practiced day in and out and those slow motions became faster and faster. He now moved through the forms with speed and grace. He felt at one with the elements. He danced with the wind, struck fiercely like a flame, flowed from one movement to the next like water, and maintained a sturdy connection to the earth, never losing his footing. It felt like the elements were begging to be freed, to be released through his blade. He gave them their wish allowing them to become part of his dance. It was quite the spectacle to witness though the only person he ever allowed to see it was Lenora.

Rinarin was nearly full grown at this point and he didn’t want to be a burden on his sister forever. It was time he started earning a living. He was able to find work with one of the Outer City’s Leatherworkers who noticed how deft he was with his hands and took him on as an apprentice. It didn’t take long before his work was superior to his master’s. The little shop started getting more and more business as news spread about the quality of its goods. Unfortunately, the shops success also drew some unwanted attention from the area gangs. One day some thugs from the Crimson Daggers, the same gang that had slain his parents, showed up demanding taxes for doing business in their territory. That familiar dread washed over Rinarin locking him in place. They trashed the store and roughed up the shopkeeper a bit before he caved in and paid them. All the while Rinarin stood fixed in place watching, gasping for breath… useless…

That night at dinner Lenora noticed he seemed depressed, wouldn’t meet her eyes, and kept looking over his shoulder as if someone was going to jump out and attack at any moment. She asked him what was wrong and after some coaxing managed to get the story out of him. She… was… furious! He had been making such progress over the last few years and some stupid thugs had to go and ruin everything. He seemed to have regressed back to the scared, anxious, young boy he used to be. She did what she could to raise his spirits and told him not to worry. She had heard some members of an organization called The Harpers had recently arrived in town they were planning on dealing with the gangs that were oppressing the people of the Outer City. That seemed to at least give him a bit of comfort. His shoulders relaxed a bit and he was able to sleep that night.

Over the next few months a masked, hooded figure wearing a dark blue cloak with the symbol of a white crescent moon and harp began going to work on the gangs of the city. Rinarin heard story after story of the hero dancing about with a sword wreathed in flames taking on several opponents at once. He idolized this Harper and wished he was brave enough to stand up to the gangs himself. The gang activity in the area diminished and the Outer City started to become a relatively safe place to live. Rinarin finally began to return back to his normal self when disaster struck again.

He was on his way to work in the early morning when he noticed a large group of people gathered in the market square. He was curious so he weaved his way through the crowd to get a closer look at what was going on. To his dismay he found dozens of rough-looking men wearing symbols from many of the local gangs with several men from the Crimson Daggers among them. At their center he could see a group of shop owners including the Leatherworker he worked for with their hands and feet bound being forced to kneel in a line. A thick armed man in blood red clothing walked up and down the line waving a large sword threateningly at them and laughing and they shrunk back and whimpered. A wiry man with a high pitched nasally voice called out for the Harper to come out and face them now in broad daylight. This went on for a while and they continued to get more violent and demanding as time passed. They started beating the shop owners and making threats that they would start killing if the Harper didn’t show.

All the while Rinarin fought a battle of his own in his head. He knew there were too many men here for any one person to fight and that the Harper who had been protecting them would have to be crazy to come out and face them alone. Someone needed to do something. He was tired of just standing by as the people in his life were threatened and killed, but his legs were tree trunks rooted to the spot he was standing. Ice ran up and down his spine causing him to tremble. He could hardly breath as if some large creature the size of a horse was sitting on his chest. His mind raced trying to come up with some way out of this whole situation, but his thoughts were like slippery eels wriggling away as he tried to grasp them. He looked on in despair as his body failed to move at his command.

His awareness was like candle near the end of its wick, but just as it was about to go out the square erupted into chaos. A boom of thunder blasted out from the center of the square knocking several of the thugs off their feet. The crowd starting running around in all directions trying to find a way to escape. Rinarin’s attention was still focused on the hostages and he saw the blue cloaked figure rush about them cutting their bonds while the gang members were still distracted. The shop owners joined the rest of the crowd and ran to safety. The Harper freed the last hostage and was just about the make an escape as well when one of the thugs grabbed a woman in the crowd who wasn’t fast enough to get away and plunged his dagger into her chest. This was enough to get the Harper to turn and begin fighting them.

The stories were true. The Harper danced around blue cloak flapping in the wind, blade whipping out sending gouts of flame that consumed any foe that came within reach. The hero was so fast that none of thugs could land a blow, but there were so many of them and they were closing in. Rinarin couldn’t see anyone else remaining in the square except the Harper and the thugs so why wasn’t he fleeing? Then the obvious thought broke through the haze of his mind and realize HE was the reason. He needed to get out of there, but his legs still wouldn’t move. At that moment the thugs seemed to realized it as well. One of them broke from the fight and started charging toward him sword pointed at his chest. The Harper took notice, but was surrounded. In a desperate move the hero charged through taking a few cuts in the process and ran toward him. It was a close race. The thug had a good head start and was nearly upon him beginning the thrust that would likely pierce his heart, but the Harper was fast. It was too much for Rinarin to watch so he closed his eyes and waited for the final moment.

To his surprise when the time finally came he found himself wrapped in an embrace rather than having his chest ripped open. Relief washed over him. His frozen limbs began to thaw allowing him to move again. The cloud that had been covering his thoughts lifted allowing him to think more clearly. As he became more aware of his surroundings he noticed the arms that had been holding him tightly had begun to loosen. He noticed a warm, wet feeling spreading across his stomach. He opened his eyes to find them staring into a pair blue, silver flecked eyes he knew well. Lenora began to slump against him and he quickly caught her and gently lowered her to the ground. His eyes were drawn to the rapidly growing patch of crimson spreading across her stomach. He tried to cover the wound to stop the bleeding, but she caught his hand and drew it up to her face. They were both smart enough to know she only had a few moments left and she didn’t want to waste them. Even in her final moments she was only concerned with his wellbeing. She told Rinarin where he could meet her contacts in the Harpers and to seek them out for help. She told him he had talent for the blade song that far exceeded her own, that he just needed to be confident in himself and he could overcome any problem that came his way. As her voice was fading away she told him she loved him and would always watch over him. He held her hand tightly, watching her through tear filled eyes, nodding as she spoke, listening intently to everything she said.

When it was over he found himself in an alley a few blocks away from the market square, but didn’t know how they got there. He covered her in his cloak and carried her through the back streets and out of the city to a spot in the nearby forest where she used to take him to play when he was a child. He buried her there as he wept in silence, unable to find any words to ease her spirit and send her off to the next life. The days that followed were a blur as if he had been heavily drinking, though no ale or wine had touched his lips. He roamed the city streets without a destination in mind. No matter where he went he couldn’t escape the loss he felt. Her final moments played through his head over and over. He kept thinking that if he had been able to move… to help her… or at the very least just run away that she wouldn’t have died. It was his fault and there was nothing he could do to change that.

Sometime later, days or weeks… he wasn’t sure, he had a rare moment of clarity and found himself standing at the steps of a large white stone building somewhere in the lower city with statues of lions and armored men leading up to the building. He climbed the stairs and went inside ignoring the strange looks he received and the whispered conversations going on around him. He made his way up to an alter with a statue of a man holding his right hand stretched out in front of him palm facing out. He at least had enough sense of mind to know he was in a church, though he wasn’t sure to what God. He dropped to his knees and pleaded with the unknown god. He had nowhere to go to, nothing to do to, no reason to live… He was lost without his sister. He needed a sign, something to live for…

To his amazement an answer came. To this day Rinarin doesn’t know if he had been granted a divine sending or if it was all just an illusion caused by his starving fevered state, but it seemed like the statue was beckoning him to come closer. He rose to his feet, walked the few remaining steps between him and the statue and placed his palm flat against the palm of the statue. The same memories of Lenora’s final moments that had been plaguing his thoughts came to him again, but this time he saw them in a different light.  He saw his sister saving the frightened hostages in the market square, her graceful movements as she fought off dozens of men at once, how she had always protected him that same way. He remembered how safe he had always felt when she was around, the way she always took care of everyone else’s problems before worrying about her own. Her final words came back to him, telling him that he had a talent for the blade song and that he just needed to find his confidence to use it. In that moment he knew what he had to do. He lowered his hand from the statues palm, took a few steps back, knelt, and then made his way back out of the church.

His thoughts were finally clear and he felt a great purpose propelling his feet forward one at a time, step by step. He made his way to the market and purchased all the materials he needed to make a dark blue cloak matching the one his sister had worn and spent the next few days crafting it. The final touch he added was a white leather gauntlet which he wore on his right hand just as the statue had in the church where he found his way. His next stop was his sisters grave where he said his goodbye and made his vow. The world had lost a great hero when his sister died. How many people would she have saved had she lived? Dozens, Hundreds, Thousands?... Only the gods know the answer, but Rinarin pledged that from that day forward he would save them in her place. He would protect them like she had always protected him. He would overcome his fears and become a champion of the common people, a person worthy of the sacrifice she had made for him.

The next day he set out for Watersdeep to meet Lenora’s contacts in the Harpers…

(This pic from Assassin’s creed is the type of look I am going for. The colors would be different, mainly blues, silver, and white. He doesn’t have any facial hair, has light blue skin and dark blue hair, and blue silver flecked eyes.)