Myharl (prime)

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Myharl the Dark Tower
Myharl GS4 Animated Portrait 2025.gif
(Higher Resolution Portrait)
Portrait Generated by Player of Myharl with Stable Diffusion
Name Pronounced: ˈmī-ˈ(h)ärl →
(Formerly known as Myharl Gryphonwind)
Born Eorgaen 18, 5079 M.E. (Age 45)
Elanthian Astrology: Paladin Descending (Hour of Ronan)
Race Giantman
Culture Maeramil Wind Runner Clan
Firewalker Tribe
Hometown Denizen of Cold River village beyond the Long Snow in the Hinterwilds
----
Merchant and shop owner in Wehnimer's Landing
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Grew up as a Firewalker tribal nomad in the deserts of the Southron Wastes.
Class Explorer, Merchant, and former Morganatic Noble
Profession Warrior (Wyrmslayer)
Religion Lacks fath in the divine, but is touched by the Light of the Disir.
Affiliation(s) Master at Arms of the Warrior Guild, Master in the Order of Voln, The Order of Wyrmslayers, Founder of Northern Dawn resistance movement, Member of House of the Rising Phoenix, Officer of Fenog's Regulars, Honorary Officer of Regulators of the Northern Frontier, Member of The Town Crier correspondent team.
In-a-Word Large
Disposition Generally friendly and warm, but more recently sometimes distant and grim. Embraces the Rule of Reciprocity
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Alignment Equivalent: Neutral Good ]
Demeanor Cognitively: thoughtful and respectful, Instinctively: feral, wrathful, and bloodthirsty (particularly towards wyrms).
Primary Trait Exceptionally tall (10' 5"), Kroderine Soul
Secondary Trait His towering height and hulking frame cause him to get in the way a lot.
Flaw Propensity to be a loner that is growing more prevalent.
Greatest Strength Berserking
Greatest Weakness Berserking
Habits Frequent whiskey and pipe-weed, occasionally opium. Favored Drink: Erithian sake (rice wine)
Hobbies Master crafter, master forger (all weapon types), sheath maker, shop owner [Dark Tower Imports], and avid wyrm hunter
Soft Spots His wife Jastalyn and daughter Jaliyah, children, and Aurora, his arctic lemming. His disposition tends to be more favorable towards dark elven women as several have had significant impact on his life.
Likes Testing his mettle, adventure, delving for lost lore.
Dislikes Slavery, zealots, tyrants, imperialism, dishonesty, and overly-crowded rooms.
Fears Dishonor to himself, disappointing loved ones, and succumbing to his curse of wrath.
Loyalties His family and friends, The North, the community of Cold River, and the spirit of the Forlorn Maiden.
Spouse Jastalyn; Married 5124
Divorced; Previously Married 5110-5122 to sister wives Ladies Aurla, Psyryn, Yterria, and Yieshia
Loved One Jastalyn Dragorth
(Beloved Wife)
Lord Nephtyris Malwind
(Brethren & Lifelong Comrade)
Children Daughter, Jaliyah
(b. Eorgaen 5124)
CHE and MHO Membership
CHE House of the Rising Phoenix
House of the rising phoenix.jpg
CHE Rank Active Member
(Member since 5109)
CHE Position Former Functional Officer (5110-5111)
(Event Runner)
MHO Affiliations
Fenog's Regulars
Officer
(Member since 5124)
Regulators of the Northern Frontier
Honorary Officer
(Member since 5124)
The TownCier
Correspondent Team
(Member since 5124)
House Daingneach Onoir — Former Lord Sage, Guildmaster of the Order of the Quill, Former Head Squire appointed by the Lady Paladin, and Bearer of the Oriflamme
(Member 5109-5111; Resigned 5111)
Greater Elanthian Merchant Society
(5109-5111; MHO Defunct
Still adheres to the Merchant's Charter)
Clan Snar
(5114-5117 MHO Defunct)

The Order of Wyrmslayers
(Founding Member; 5125-Current)

Pictured: Crest of the Dark Tower. The personal seal of Myharl the Dark Tower. A signet depicting a dark tower beneath an eclipsed moon borne upon a starless night sky stationed central on a crest depicting two opposing rampant wyrms. AI artwork based on the original graphic design by player of Myharl. Graphic generated by the player of Myharl using a combination of Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop.
Pictured: Shadow Cursed Kindred, Myharl the Dark Tower (photo-realistic render). Graphic generated by the player of Myharl using a combination of Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop.
You see Myharl the Dark Tower.
He appears to be a Giantman of the Maeramil Clan.
He is of an extraordinary height, even for a giant and has an oversized, hulking frame.  He appears to exude the poise that comes with broader life experience.   He has darkly rimmed, piercing tenebrous black eyes and deeply coffee-hued skin.  He has a bald head.  He has a well-defined face, a broad and strong nose and a sloe black silver-touched beard pinioned into a single elaborate braid by a dark wyrm's-eye aetherstone.  His firm, chiseled features accentuate his battle-hardened appearance. 
He has a set of five lustrous onyx rings in his left eyebrow, a silvered ebon tattoo depicting a wyrm's talon descending from beneath his left eye, a trio of krodera rings pierced by a talon of abyssal onyx in the upper ridge of his left ear, and a small dark shard-shaped mark on his neck.
Dark shadows twist and swirl around him.
He gives off a fierce demeanor.

Myharl has hints of musky amber clinging to his skin, the dark fragrance laced with the feral scent of untamed wilds.

A Brief Introduction to the Dark Tower 

Shadow-wreathed, cursed, and exiled Maeraka Firewalker kindred, bearer of the Eye of the Drake, wyrmslayer of the Hinterwilds. He tries to be a good man, yet struggles against his own darkness.

The Man

Shrouded in darkness and umberal shadows, beckoning the frigid aura of winter's bite, there is a cursed kindred, a Flameless One long ago exiled from his desert home in the wastes. Myharl is his name. A berserker and famed wyrmslayer, the Dark Tower, who hails from Cold River, a hibernal village sheveled beyond the Long Snow, deep in the nival heart of the Hinterwilds.

His extraordinary height and a battle-forged mettle have earned him the moniker Dark Tower, though many have taken to simply referring to him as the Wyrmslayer. He bears loyalty to no kingdom or empire, bends a knee to no ruler or sovereign, and lends no sworn faith to the divine. He is a free citizen of the North and abundantly wary of imperialism. His allegiances are to his family, friends, and the ideals of a Free North. To them his dedication is unwavering.

Myharl is loving husband to Jastalyn Dragorth and father to their daughter, Jaliyah.

He founded the Northern Dawn resistance movement to fight the incursion of the Dusk Coven into the North, and on the heels of the Winter War, Myharl heavily advocated for the burgeoning nation of Northwatch to become an alliance of free sovereign states as opposed to a kingdom or empire, ruled by committee under treaty rather than by a titular ruler such as king or khan.

In his home beyond the Long Snow, Myharl is among the Order of Wyrmslayers, a prestige organization founded in tandem with the tenative alliance between the wyrmslayers Cold River and the gigas of Eldurhaart in response to increased activity by the Wyrmcult after the Night of the Wyrms and their ever-growing threat to the North.

His Curse

His soul is bound to the Eye of the Drake, an ancient and mysterious artifact in his possession. Dating back to the era of the thousand years war between the Great Drakes and Ur-Daemons, the Eye has bestowed upon him a lifelong plague of draconic visions, prompting the kindred to seek out any and all knowledge related to dragons. The artifact is also the domain of a mysterious dark shadow entity who has secretly manipulated pivotal moments in Myharl's life, honing his wrath and rage and driving him ever northward.

Though oblivious to his curse and misled about the nature of the Eye for most his life, the truth was eventually uncovered by a friend and learned scholar who had a direct confrontation with the dark entity when researching the artifact. It was learned that it has spent a lifetime grooming the giantkin to become its Destroyer, and that his soul was sought eons before his birth.

Despite now having knowledge of this deception and his intended fate, the curse continues to compel Myharl's wrath at the wintry edge of the world and to hunt and destroy its most dangerous creatures, ever seeking stronger and more deadly wyrms to fell. With every passing day the combined dark magics of the Eye and the Hinterwilds wear upon his spirit, slowly pushing him further into a grim darkness.

Myharl's Theme Song

"Myharl the Wyrmslayer" is the official theme for Myharl and was composed by the player of the character and created with the assistance of AI and compiled utilizing Adobe Audition, Udio, and BandLab Cakewalk. The track begins with a short spoken word introduction and leads into an orchestral arrangement inspired by the experience of Myharl hunting wyrms in the Hinterwilds.


Notable Achievements

Wyrm Slaying

As of the prestige organization's formation in 5125, Myharl is a member of The Order of Wyrmslayers.
Pictured: Wyrm Encounter, Myharl the wymslayer wielding Forlorn Maiden in the Hinterwilds. Graphic generated by the player of Myharl using a combination of Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop.

Dragons, Drakes, and wyrms have been a central theme for Myharl throughout his adult life. His journey thus far has taken him from one side of Elanith to the other in search of their kind. Beginning in the Southron Wastes where his family was slaughtered by shadowy wyrms; where he came into possession of the artifact known the Eye of the Drake. To his time in Kilanirij where a life-long plague of draconic-themed visions began—dreams that drove him ever northward. His travels through the Turamzzyrian Empire that prompted his once devout service to Koar, the Great Drake, and guiding his path to the frontier in search of Kor'thriss, the shadow dragon. His pilgrimage beyond the great glacier to the summit of Mount Aenatumgana to visit the Drake's Shrine in search of truth, and his eventual geas into the Hinterwilds to become a wyrmslayer. For better or worse, the winged reptilian beasts have always driven the narrative of his life's story. 

An umbral nightwillow pipe carved in the shape of a wyrm (Magic Pipe)
A gift from a dear friend of Myharl's, it has become a ritual for him to smoke the pipe after slaying a wyrm. If you ever see the kindred smoking his nightwillow pipe, it signifies his recent return from a successful wyrm hunt.

A Gift from the Order of Wyrmslayers

As of the prestige organization's formation in 5125, Myharl is a member of The Order of Wyrmslayers.

Several members and friends of The Order of Wyrmslayers contributed funds and acquired a legendary gemstone to bestow upon Myharl. On Day of the Huntress the 23rd day of Ivastaen in 5125, after a short ceremony at the Dragon Shrine in Eldurhaart that concluded in a wyrmhunt in Fjallarhaart, he received the gift sealed in a black alloy case. The gemstone, an octagonal incarnadine jewel, bestowed the abilities of Imaera's Balm, Spirit Wellspring, and Metamorphic Shield.

Wyrm Encounters

  • Most recent wyrm slain by Myharl on Leyan the 24th of Koaratos, 5125 at Wyrmreach in the River of Color
Total Slain Wyrm Count: (555 Total) {300 of which were Quest Kills}
Including 33 azure-scaled cold wyrms (2 Ghostly, 2 Spectral), 522 silver-scaled cold wyrms (6 Ghostly, 3 Spectral) as of Leyan the 24th of Koaratos, 5125.
  • First wyrm slain on Restday the 30th of Jastatos, 5122
  • Myharl slayed his 100th wyrm on Tilamaires the 27th of Lumnea, 5123 at the Gigas Runestone on the outskirts of Fjallarhaart in the Hinterwilds; Under the waning Drake constellation
  • Myharl slayed his 200th wyrm on Restday the 19th of Lormesta, 5125 at Wyrmreach in the River of Color above Sanguine Grove in the Hinterwilds; Under the waning Grandfather's Eye constellation
  • Myharl slayed his 300th wyrm on Leyan the 19th of Charlatos, 5125 at Wyrmreach in the River of Color above the Boreal Forest in the Hinterwilds; Under the waning Spire constellation
  • Myharl slayed his 400th wyrm on Niiman the 15th of Ivastaen, 5125 at Wyrmreach in the River of Color above Sanguine Grove in the Hinterwilds; Under the waining Mistress of Adoration constellation
  • Myharl slayed his 500th wyrm on Day of the Huntress the 20th of Lumnea, 5125 at Wyrmreach in the River of Color above Ojandhaart in the Hinterwilds; Under the rising Drake constellation
Random Fun Happenstance on 04/28/2025 — "As of this moment I've slain 33 azure scaled wyrms, and just slayed my 333rd silver scaled wyrm at 3 AM CST, and the moment I did my base EXP (sans ASC) bumped over to 33,333,333. What are the odds?! (With a party of 3 wyrmslayers, Earthdiver, Leafiara, and myself)."

Big Game Hunter

  • Silver-Scaled Cold Wyrm Kills: 522
  • Azure-Scaled Cold Wyrm Kills: 33
  • Snowy Warg Packmother Kills: 319
  • Cinereous Chthonian Sybil Kills: 33
  • Total Big Game Kills: 907

Notable Battles

Historical Encounters

The Encounter (Restday the 2nd of Lormesta, 5111)

Community Service

Social Event Attendance

As of the year 5124 of the Modern Era, Myharl has maintained a detailed log of his attendance at various social events organized by Meeting Hall Organizations and the Cooperative Houses of Elanthia.

Guilds, Societies & Trained Skills

  • Mastered Sailing Roles: Navigator, Cannoneer, Swashbuckler
  • [ General Skill ] Highest Non-Bard Rank Apprentice in Playing All Musical Instrument Types (10/20 Ranks)
  • [ General Skill ] Master at Skilled Darts (250/250 Ranks)
  • [ General Skill ] Master Fisher (1,000+ fish caught as of Jastatos, 5124) *
  • [ General Skill ] Origami Adept (3,500+ creations as of Jastatos, 5124) *
Adventurer's Guild Information (as of Restday the 30th of Lormesta, 5125)

Victories

Note: Duskruin Endless Arena victories have been intentionally excluded.

Awarded Unique Titles

Pictured: Wyrmslayer Myharl the Dark Tower posed standing before the Gigas runestone on the outskirts of Fjallarhaart in the Hinterwilds in 5123 of the Modern Era. Commissioned artwork by Mates Laurentiu to commemorate the 100th wyrm slain by Myharl.
Pictured: Lord Myharl Gryphonwind (before his 'darkening') in 5110 of the Modern Era, then decked in golvern platemail, locked in battle with an invading demon as Wehnimer's Landing is engulfed in flames around him. Commissioned artwork by Mates Laurentiu to commemorate Myharl's single-handed victory in battle against four vathors at once.
Pictured: Grand Lord Myharl Gryphonwind (before his 'darkening') in 5119 of the Modern Era standing tandem with Forlorn Maiden, the released nedum vereri spirit he formed a pact with who haunts his sacred warsword. Posed standing before Mount Aenatumgana, wearing what was his typical light travel outfit before his travels beyond the Long Snow into the Hinterwilds. Pictured leaning on a keg of his personal home-brew cinnamon whiskey, Gryphonwind Special. Commissioned artwork by Mates Laurentiu to commemorate Myharl's achievement of '3x Capped'.

The Story of Myharl

General Information & Backstory Summary

Myharl is a berserker and noted wyrmslayer from beyond the Long Snow in the Hinterwilds near Cold River village, a place he considers home. When not braving the wintry wilds, he can usually be found either warming himself by the hearthfire in Rawknuckle's Pipe Den or taking refuge from the frigid galewinds beneath the ancient pine tree in the village center. He is frequently in the company of Kestrel, the village lookout, as the two share many late night watches together. When outdoors in the Hinterwilds, his eyes are often scanning the aurora-illuminated skies as he awaits sighting a wyrm aloft over the Angargreft or Boreal Forest locales.

He is formerly a citizen of Wehnimer’s Landing where he was known as a bounty hunter for hire and long-time merchant. He is the proprietor of Dark Tower Imports (established in 5110 of the Modern Era) which is located at the entrance to the Wehnimer’s Landing shopping district. He is a registered guild master and Master-at-Arms of the Wehnimer’s Landing Warrior Guild, a former master in the Order of Voln, and member of the House of the Rising Phoenix. His moniker, the "Dark Tower" originated as a nickname from his years training at the Warrior Guild. The name began as a playful jest about his unusual height and physique, but later—through trials and tribulations with his brethren—became a title of honor and respect.

He was born in the hour of Ronan on Tilamaires, Eorgaen 18th in the year 5079 of the Modern Era, under the sign of the Paladin, into the Firewalker tribe of the Maeramil Wind Runner Clan. He is the youngest of three children and the only son of giantman nomads Lokran (father) and Maeralea (mother). His eldest sister disappeared before his birth (lost in a sandstorm and presumed dead). His other sister and parents were all killed in 5097 when his tribe's encampment was attacked by wyrms. His name is an amalgamous play on multiple giantkin words which can be roughly understood as "gift of the feast" and was bestowed upon him in celebration of the massive white sandworm the tribe hunters, including his father, fell on the day before his birth.

Myharl’s appearance is noticeably different from most other giantkin whose clans and tribes have been long-established in the regions surrounding the northern reaches of the Dragonspine Mountains. He is unusually tall (towering well over ten feet) and bears deeply ebon-hued skin. This appearance, while atypical for highmen in Northern Elanith, is the norm among members of his tribe.

He migrated to the northern frontiers during the third decade of his life, but hails originally from deep within the desolate barrens of the Southron Wastes. Nomadic like most giantkin tribes, his family was one of many comprising a wandering desert tribe of highmen that have traversed the wastelands for countless generations. His youth was spent as a shepherd herding goats as his tribe migrated across the wastelands. His journey as an adventurer began when he was exiled from his tribe after inadvertently activating an ancient and mysterious artifact he refers to as the Eye of the Drake.

Family names are not a tradition practiced by his tribe, yet are often necessary for business matters in the Empire and its holdings and frontier outposts. Gryphonwind is the name of a long-ago friend who sacrificed her own life to save his. The name was adopted by Myharl as his surname to honor her memory. However the surname was later forsaken by Myharl upon his early adventures into the Hinterwilds when, through a vision and spirit journey, Myharl learned that Gryphonwind had actually been a manifestation of an ancient evil entity bound within the Eye of the Drake. An entity who placed a powerful curse upon him in his youth and has since carefully guided his life's path northward to "hone his Wrath" and "awaken the Drake" within him. He now simply goes by his name and moniker, Myharl the Dark Tower, though many have taken to simply calling him Wyrmslayer.

The elders of his tribe profess that they are the descendants of survivors from a once magnificent giantkin kingdom far to the north. A nation that fell in ancient times during a war against a great evil. Their predecessors, forced from their homeland and driven south, adopted the practice of unending migration in lieu of founding another homestead. Though unsure whether the story of the tribe's ancestral origin has merit or is nothing more than fanciful folklore, later in life Myharl did find what appears to be the remnants of just such an ancient highman kingdom. Located deep in Stoneharrow Swale between the port city of Solhaven and the frontier surrounding Wehnimer’s Landing, within the ruins is even the visage of crowned giantkin king worked into stone. He sometimes wonders if this place could be the forgotten lands mentioned in the myths of his former kin.

In his early twenties, during the years immediately proceeding exile, Myharl found work with an Issimr merchant caravan which plied their trade by transporting goods across the wastes between the Grot'karesh fortress city of Kilanirij and the Turamzzyrian Empire. Frequent visits to Elstreth and Idolone, as well as the occasional long haul to the grand city Tamzyrr, slowly introduced him to the common cultures of North-Western Elanith. His interest and curiosity about those cultures would grow as he learned the common tongue of commerce and learned to read. He eventually parted ways with the Issimr merhcant caravan to follow his draconic visions and explore the northern bounds of the Empire for himself.

Relationships & Marriages

Pictured: Myharl and Jastalyn at their wedding in the Garden Sancturary. AI painting generated by the player of Myharl using a combination of Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop.
Pictured: High Lord Myharl Gryphonwind (before his 'darkening') in the company of his four former wives (5110-5122) at his Wehnimer's Landing shop, Gryphonwind Ventures, in 5115 of the Modern Era. From left to right: Grand Lady Psyryn, Myharl, Grand Lady Yterria (seated), Lady Yieshia (kneeling), and Renowned Lady Aurla. Commissioned artwork by Mates Laurentiu to commemorate Yieshia joining her three sisters in union to Myharl.
Pictured: A very young Journeyman Myharl Gryphonwind in the company of his then fiancé Velona in 5109 of the Modern Era. They are seated in repose inside the garden of the Voln Monastery near Wehnimer’s Landing. Comissioned artwork by Mates Laurentiu to commemorate Myharl's engagement to her.

The early years of Myharl's adult life, proceeding his exile, were spent in the company of a cafila of Issimir merchants who had employed the aimless kindred. As a caravan worker transporting goods between Elstreth, Idolone and Kilanirij, there was little time for companionship beyond the occasional noncommittal tryst on the road. It wasn't until he parted ways with his Issimir friends to venture northward that opportunity for love presented itself to him.

A Gift with Thorns

He had travelled north towards the frontier regions of the Empire upon having a vision of a shadowy dragon erupting from the Dragonspine Mountains. As the southern lands waned in his journey, there were rumors that the dragon he had foreseen actually dwelled in the locales near Wehnimer’s Landing. He would find the city welcoming and come to call it home. It was in those early days, adjusting to idiosyncrasies of frontier life, that he met and courted a young elven woman named Velona. She was the granddaughter of Demetria, second wife of Demyse, the head of the Faendryl Ta'mori house. Myharl and Velona were engaged to be married, and immediately this caused problems. The potential union was frowned upon and eventually forbade by the Ta'moris; of particular interest was a brilliant eahnor rose that Velona had bestowed upon Myharl as a token of their impending union.

The significance of the affectionate gesture always remained a mystery to Myharl, but it was enough to prompt house Ta'mori to hunt Myharl when he refused to break his engagement to Velona. Several assassination attempts were made by Ta'mori operatives, but Myharl managed to elude every attempt on his life. Eventually Demyse himself approached Myharl with demands. Demands which the kindred laughed at. Myharl's dismissive response to their head further intensified Ta'mori harassment placing great strain on his relationship with Velona. As time passed she seemed more and more inclined to acquiesce to her family's demands. Myharl's disposition leant great disdain of the controlling nature of the Ta'moris, and it was during these struggles when Myharl met another.

Flame on the Frontier

A dark elf woman who was herself at odds with the Ta'moris. She had once been employed by the house, but had since earned its ire. At first Myharl suspected her of being another assassin sent to claim his head, but the two quickly connected and soon most of their time was spent together. As Velona and Myharl drifted further apart he found companionship with his new companion, and eventually he would return the eahnor rose and send missive via Demetria that he was dissolving the engagement. He would never see Velona again, her disappearance he suspects was a result of her being reined in by house Ta'mori.

With their respective troubles with the Ta'moris behind them, Myharl and the dark elf established themselves as a couple and enjoyed their newfound peace together. Their relationship was fiery and intense, but eventually became complex and convoluted. Her work, shrouded in mystery, and Myharl's frequent time spent away procuring rare veil iron artifacts for his newly established shop left the two often parted. The frequent physical distance soon gave way to an unattentive nature in their relationship. Gradually their flame fell to embers and the two amicably parted to walk different paths. There was never animosity between the two, to the contrary, in the many proceeding years Myharl would often speak fondly of her.

Four Pillars & Foundation

Then upon the fourth decade of his life, after establishing himself with the Wehnimer’s Landing merchant's guild and officially founding Gryphonwind Ventures, Myharl discovered opportunity for more permanent companionship. He was married to a quartet of dark elf sisters who bear estranged, rarely discussed, ties to Faendryl nobility. Of the four, the eldest sister is Renowned Lady Aurla (Magess of the Flame), followed by Grand Lady Psyryn (Master Healer), then Grand Lady Yterria (High Priestess of Koar), and lastly the youngest of the four, Lady Yieshia, who Myharl affectionately referred to as his "little magess".

In addition to becoming certified by the local merchant's guild, Myharl had become involved in the politics of Wehnimer’s Landing serving leadership roles in several local organizations, including the Great Houses of Elanthia. His relationship with the sisters began with meeting Aurla during a Co-operative House event called the Unity Festival. As a functional officer of House of the Rising Phoenix, Lord Sage of House Daingneach Onoir, and event planner for the Greater Elanthian Merchant Society he had been put in charge of organizing and managing the event. Aurla was an officer and secretary of House Phoenix, and the two spent much time together and connected during the months invested into planning the great event.

As he spent more time with Aurla, he also came to know her three sisters. The five of them found they shared a unique chemistry and their individual relationships soon coalesced into an acknowledged shared romance. With none of the lovers willing to constrain the relationships to traditional boundaries, the sisters approached Myharl with a solution: they would all be with him. As they explored the complexities of polyamory, they would all become his wives. A solution that worked surprisingly well for all of them.

Myharl and his former wives made their home at the private suite on the second floor of the Raging Thrak Inn in the town square of Wehnimer's Landing. In the summer months they could frequently be found relaxing in the suite's private bath and in the winter, warming themselves by the massive hearth in the living room. They spent many happy years together involved in local politics, helping to defend the town in times of need, and working for the Adventurers Guild to mitigate bandit activity in the surrounding regions.

However, after nearly a decade and half, the sisters suddenly received a missive summoning them for business back in their homeland. Afterwards, much of their time was spent away tending to family matters. Meanwhile, Myharl's treks beyond the Long Snow became more frequent and sustained in pursuit of hunting wyrms. Over time, the sisters and Myharl grew apart and rarely spoke. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months between seeing one another. Finally, the sisters departed a final time, cordially with nary fanfare. After months without word, Myharl accepted their companionship had faded away. In the winter of 5122, after having requested and receiving word of their welfare, Myharl dissolved the marriage, finalizing the divorce with town officials. 

Upon marrying into dark elf nobility and becoming a morganatic noble, Myharl had donned the title Grand Lord, which he maintained until their divorce.

Light in the Darkness

By pure happenstance in early 5123, Myharl's path crossed again with the dark elf woman from from his past, nearly two decades after their long-ago romance. In the following weeks they quickly rekindled their friendship, realizing that over the many years they both had retained a quiet and mostly unspoken admiration for one another. Their two souls, so altered during their time apart, re-forged a connection, though one that was vastly different than what they once shared. Though they could often be found sitting side-by-side, they wouldn't have been mistaken for more than very close comrades.

The dark elf woman was his closest friend during his darkest hours: when his soul was overwhelmed by the dark magic cursing him, his faith was shattered, and he was a man lost in darkness. It was through her dedicated research and stalwart companionship that Myharl learned the truth about the Eye of the Drake, and with significant self-sacrifice, she stood with him against the dark entity bound within it to help Myharl reclaim his identity as master of his own fate.

While his curse will always remain, it was her who helped him to first find the will to resist its evil. During the proceeding year, the two souls grew incredibly close, but a time would come for their paths once again diverge. In early Lormesta in the year 5124 she approached Myharl as he sat on the shores of the Issenflow near Cold River to bid him farewell. Fate had called her towards the Black Gate, and her destiny beckoned to her from the mysteries beyond. The two spent their final night together embraced near the warmth of his campfire. When Myharl awakened the next morning she was gone. Though their paths were no longer shared, her influence upon him forever changed the kindred's story, and in many ways the woman would always remain by his side.

Love of the North

After fighting in the Battle of Berserker’s End at the ruins of Angargreft in the Hinterwidls, Myharl’s priorities shifted south of the Long Snow. He knew that Icemule Trace and all of Northwatch had to be warned of the V’tullian incursion and the awakening of V’tull’s gigas avatar and high priest, Zerroth.

He travelled to Icemule Trace to meet with members of the Town Council to discuss the matter where upon he learned of other ill omens befalling the North: a dark cult calling itself the Dusk Coven with ambitions to locate an orb of power rumored to be located near the city.

With growing concern that the shadows moving across the North may be related to his own curse and the Eye of the Drake, Myharl committed to assisting the Icemule Trace Town Council (and concerned citizens of the town) with investigating the Coven. It was his belief that locating the orb before the cult was in the best interest of the North.

Among the councilmembers he joined in the search was Chairwoman Jastalyn Dragorth, a friendly associate he had been well acquainted with over the years. Though their approach to politics bore vast differences, the two shared a fierce passion for the North. It was upon that commonality that they focused their intent.

When the search of the city was unsuccessful in locating the orb or uncovering any additional information about the artifact, the two met in private to discuss matters further. Their evening discussions quickly became a regular occurrence, and soon, a fond expectation. Over the coming weeks the two would spend an increasing amount of time together in their investigation, eventually even leading their own expeditions to search surrounding locales for the mysterious artifact the Coven sought.

Neither seemed to be sure exactly when friendship and camaraderie shifted to a deeper connection, but as their research continued, they both realized they were falling in love with one another. With varying obligations, they resisted the inclination for a while, but as their fondness fell into passion, neither wanted to deny the truth. Myharl and Jastalyn embraced one another as lovers and partners. Both agreed their dedication to each other ran as deep as their commitment to the North. They were stronger in tandem, and whatever the future may hold, they promised to face it together.

On Niiman the 22nd day of Fashanos in 5124 during the Hour of Tonis, while having a picnic in the lush garden at the temple of Oleani in Solhaven, Myharl proposed to Jastalyn and they became betrothed. On the evening of Volnes, day 22 of the month of Olaesta in the year 5124, in the company of many of their closest friends and comrades, Myharl and Jastalyn became husband and wife. They were married at the Garden Sanctuary in a ceremony officiated by a high priest of Oleani.

Part I: Acquisition of the Eye & The Journey Begins (5097 Modern Era) [Backstory]

Pictured: The Eye of the Drake (so named by Myharl), an ancient artifact from the era of the Drake and Ur-Deamon war. In possession of Myharl who has been bound by curse to the artifact as well as the shadowy entity that resides within. Commissioned artwork by Mates Laurentiu.

Graphic generated by the player of Myharl using a combination of Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop. 

Eye of the Drake

a shadowy crystal ball containing a mysteriously shifting eye blazing with an unknown power

The Three Strangers

Myharl's tribe, known by many as the Firewalkers, were not the only kindred who made the wasteslands their home. Another, more ancient group of giantkin migrants were those who the tribe elders called, "the cursed." They had arrived in the Southron Wastes likely thousands of years earlier. The tribe's migration routes always steered clear of the mountain stronghold of their clan. A dark place called Kilanirij. For the most part the cursed had likewise avoided the tribe, seeming more interested in maintaining their fortress city than the activities of nomadic goat-herding peoples eking out a living from the harsh lands. That was until one day, a cafila of three cursed approached the tribe's encampment at sundown.

The three strangers spoke in a strange mesh of the Gaintkin language and another tongue foreign but very similar-sounding to Elvish. They referred to themselves as Ishan; travelers on a quest seeking to solve some ancient mystery. The Ishan called their paths crossing with the tribe's caravan, "a destiny".

The tribe elders were wary of the Ishan, but believing that all giantkin share an ancient lineage and acquiescing to nomad traditions, they cautiously invited the strangers to rest by the evening fires and offered them hospitality of food and water. Of the three, one was an older man with deep scars indicative of many battles, another was a younger man who seemed more learned than his company, and the last a young woman with an otherworldly air about her. It was the third who piqued the interest of young Myharl. She was several years his elder, yet still the youngest of the three Ishan. He found her form appealing and her forbidden moniker intoxicatingly unique. The interest of youth appealed for him to get closer to her, and so as the three visitors sat around the warmth of the camp fires, speaking to the elders, he lingered. He watched. He listened.

The eldest recovered an object securely wrapped in layers of canvas from their belongings as the younger man regaled the elders with a tale about ancient evils from the past reawakening. They were seeking a way to unlock an ancient puzzle. The old man unwrapped the object to reveal a veil iron ark crowned by a pair ornamental gold dragons, and the younger of the two pointed to six golden seals around the ark's lid explaining how no method or magic had been able to penetrate the box or remove its locks. They believed that within was a powerful artifact that could be used to fight a coming evil, and their quest was to liberate the vessel's contents from its prison.

As the two men continued engaging the elders with stories about ancient wars and forgotten times, the female Ishan took notice of Myharl's presence and seemed to immediately recognize his interest in her. She smiled softly, motioning him closer. He complied, and the two began a friendly conversation. She introduced herself as Gryphonwind, and explained she was a seer and diviner of the future sent to aid her fellow travelers in their quest. As Myharl and Gryphonwind shared food and drink, the legends and myths she told him summoned an even greater curiosity from within. Devoid of awkward banter, the demeanor of the conversation seemed as if the two were longtime friends. Her words seemed to be perfectly orated to captivate him, often answering his many questions even before he could ask them.

Terror in the Night

As the evening grew late, just as Myharl had worked up enough courage to invite her to spend the night with him, she abruptly interrupted to ask if she could divine his future. Tilted by the offer, he drew closer to sit at her side and agreed. She reached for a small woven basket worn at her hip and pulled out and handful of polished dark stones. Each was carved with a strange rune. She cast stones upon the sand at their feet. As the stones landed, Gryphonwind gasped startlingly before her breathing became shallow and near silent. Eight of the nine stones had landed with their runes facing downward in the sand, the ninth and solely visible rune bore a symbol that vaguely resembled a landslide.

As she stared at the runestone, it violently twitched as if taking on a life of its own. Suddenly, it began to draw a line in the sand as it danced its way towards Myharl. Glancing up to notice the look of abject horror marring Gryphonwinds visage, he leapt to his feet. The stone continued towards him across the sand, and he began stepping backwards. As he withdraw the stone gave chase wobbling frantically across the sand. Now frightened as well as startled, Myharl quickened his pace in reverse until accidentally stumbling into the older Ishan. The obstacle sent Myharl sprawling backwards as he fell over the seated man. In a bid to right himself, Myharl grasped for leverage. The stone stopped moving the moment his hand landed squarely on the veil iron ark. Quickly removing his hand from the artifact, its seals loudly popped open one after the other.

The stars seemed to vanish from the night sky as an unnatural shadowy black fog sped across the landscape to envelope the encampment. Tendrils of shadow seemed to grope and caress every surface accompanied by the sound of incoherent whispering voices. Then came an ear-ringing bestial roar so loud it seemed to shake the ground itself. Several massive winged draconic figures soared low overhead, their forms discernable only as their metallic scales reflected the carmine firelight below. A contrasting moment of silence followed until overpowered by a growing cacophony of anguished screams.

Seized by terror and unable to move Myharl watched as the beasts plowed through the gathered crowd of his tribesmen. Their massive razor talons shredding flesh and stripping bone as they belched caustic fluids that washed away flesh and muscle in an instant. Many of the giantkin drew their weapons, fighting back against the beasts, but others seemed statuesquely motionless, as if frozen in time, as they stared at the wyrms.

Gryphonwind cried out Myharl's name, which seemed to shake him from the unnatural paralysis binding him. She shouted, instructing him to open the ark. As he moved towards the artifact, one of the beasts shifted its stride and charged toward him. Rearing back to raise its fierce talons before striking, Myharl helplessly gazed at the wyrm sure that those were to be his final moments. They would have been, but with jarring impact, Gryphonwind's body slammed into his as she threw herself atop him like a shield. Pulling her weight away from him and rising again to her feet, she desperately pointed at the ark. In response, Myharl quickly crawled across the sand until his hands rest on each side of the unsealed vessel.

The Eye Opens

He strained to pry open the tightly closed lid, and his eyes shifted again to Gryphonwind just as a silvery talon violently burst through her abdomen from behind. The beast roared again, masking the words she screamed as blood erupted from her lips. The lid gave way and the ark was opened. A blinding flash of light from within pierced through the darkness. The beasts roars suddenly became high-pitched screeches as they withdrew back towards the shadowy fog. As the light spread across the encampment Myharl's last sight of Gryphonwind was life's light fleeting form her eyes as her impaled corpse was wrent into the evaporating darkness.
Instinctively reaching into the ark, Myharl pulled forth the shadowy orb from within. An otherworldly flame-filled eye gazed out from within the crystalline sphere, its focus seeming to be fixed on Myharl. Clutching the ball tightly, Myharl raised it overhead as he screamed out her name.

The sensation of a thousand winters wracked across his body with searing, frigid pain as the beasts continued to deafeningly shriek. Seeing dozens of bodies littering the blood soaked sands around him as Myharl turned his eyes to the orb as tendrils of shadow slinked from its smooth surface to entwined his arms. His gaze locked involuntarily with the fiery eye within and the violence around him faded into absolute darkness and silence. There was only the eye. It seemed to gaze into his very soul as an overwhelming fury welled within him. A feeling of anger and righteousness, of wrath and bloodlust. He was aware of nothing else except the fiery glow of the eye and the feral rage that now consumed him. However, soon he realized that he was not alone. As the eye shifted, it illuminated the massive shadowy figure that bore it. A great stygian dragon, much like the beasts from the shadows, but enormous beyond comprehension and surrounded by a writhing glow in hues that Myharl had never before seen.

For what simultaneously felt like an instant and countless eons, the dark draconic figure observed Myharl. Then with a rumbling deep voice it commandingly uttered a single word. A word beyond comprehension. Reality returned in an instant to Myharl's awareness just as an explosion of undulating shadowy thunder pulsed from the orb, the distortions of darkness consuming the the vicious wyrms.

Myharl fell unconscious. When he awoke, he found himself still clutching the eye, but surrounding by the warm glow of the campfire and the deep indigo of the star-filled night sky. The threat was gone, but the roars and shrieks had been replaced with the sounds of crying and pain-filled moans. He placed the eye back in to the ark, noticing the deep chill that seemed to embrace his figure as he weakly slid its heavy lid securely back on top. Among the dead nearby were the two male Ishan and a dozen of his tribe. Many more were grievously wounded. Gryphonwind's body was nowhere to be seen.

A Young Man Exiled

As the sun's light kissed the eastern skies and the last of the wounded had been tended to, those that had seen the events that transpired kept a wide birth from Myharl. He was confused by the look of fear in the eyes of his kin. Fear of him. They formed a circle around him, as if guarding a prisoner. Hushed whispers crawled through the crowd. The last of the slain were being wrapped in shrouds when the tribe elders finally approached. They were grim and hesitant.

Proceeding hours of silence, ignoring his every inquiry, the tribe's fiercest warriors cautiously approached him and elaborated... After discussing it with the elders, they had all agreed that whatever evil curse was lain upon the people of the Ishans had now been cast upon him. It was no longer safe for him to be among his kin. He was a danger to them. With hurtful disdain they exiled Myharl, demanding he return the artifact to Kilanirij and never again return to the tribe.

He protested, he demanded, and finally he begged the elders to reconsider. However, realizing there was no way to convince them otherwise, Myharl beseeched the elders to at least be allowed to bid his family farewell. Enclosed by a circle of warriors, he was escorted to the blood-soaked mass of shroud-wrapped bodies. He understood the implications. As his tear-filled gaze wandered across the pile, someone in the crowd angrily quipped, "You no longer have family here. Take your curse and be gone!"

Exile from the Firewalker Tribe

Born as a Firewalker of the Maeramil Wind Runner Clan, Myharl was exiled from the Southron Wastes tribe when he was seventeen years old. A fate that was cast upon him after he was cursed by an artifact delivered by trio of mysterious ishan who took refuge at their camp. Winged beasts borne from a storm of dark shadows attacked his tribe's desert encampment, slaughtering many (including his own parents and sibling). His exile was rooted in the superstitious inclinations of the tribe elders rather than as accountability for any actual guilt.

The ebon zunnar that Myharl wears denotes his exile. Firewalker Tribe tradition dictates that he must wear the sash whenever traversing the tribe's ancestral homelands so that he is recognized as a Flameless One to be shunned. Punishment for an exile not wearing the zunnar can arbitrarily range from public humiliation to execution. He instead wears it always as a reminder of where he came from, a time before his curse, and the moment his long trek Northward began.

Part II: Visions at Kilanirij & Travels to the North (5097-5104 Modern Era) [Backstory]

Graphic generated by the player of Myharl using a combination of Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop.

A Journey Begins

Myharl was allowed to attend the funeral pyres, and afterwards he accepted the small clay jars in which the ashes of his family had been gathered, along with two more holding the cremated remains of the Ishans. The contingent of armed hunters ushered him to his family’s tent and—with watchful eyes—they observed closely as he prepared to depart. Though he had not cognitively reckoned with the death of his sister and parents, he still felt a maelstrom of rage and sorrow swelling within, prompted by the detached indifference towards him suddenly bestowed by those who had always been in his memories. He felt betrayed. Abandoned. He was alone.

Entering the beit al-sha'r, he gathered the sparse belongings from within. Among them, his father’s jambiya which he secured at his side next to his own. Also, an assortment of travel gear, preserved goat’s cheese, and several waterskins filled by his mother the day before from the shallow sandstone well at the encampment. After dismantling the tent and neatly folding its black fabric into a parcel, he harnessed his father’s ebony wastesdrgon and laden it with the hefty pile.

Snugly tucking the funerary jars and veil iron ark within the goat fleece fabric, he then briskly mounted the lizard and yanked the reins, yawing the beast so its scaly tail dramatically feinted those gathered. Without words, recognizing it would be the last time he was among his former kin, he slowly and deliberately rode through the breadth of the encampment, searing his eyes into the elders as he passed. He rode away from his home, and into the darkness enveloping the setting desert sun—he road towards Kilanirij.

Additional writing still in progress...

Part III: The Great Empire & Finding the Drake (5104-5109 Modern Era) [Backstory]

Graphic generated by the player of Myharl using a combination of Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop.

Writing in progress...

Part IV: New Home In The Frontier (5109-5122 Modern Era)

Part V: Forlorn Maiden and the Dark Tower (5111 Modern Era)

Pictured: the spirit of the Forlorn Maiden, Myharl's glowing white sacred warsword. Created by the player of Myharl using a combination of Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop.

Forlorn Maiden / Maiden's Wrath is a weapon central to Myharl's story. The bastard sword's blade is haunted by the spirit that was bound in undeath as a nedum vereri after she was released by Myharl in the ruined Temple of Hope. She chose to sacrifice her place beyond the Ebon Gate to aid the kindred who had been overwhelmed by her undead sisters. When she haunted the sword, her selfless act bestowed divine essence to the weapon making it permanently blessed and holy.

The two made a soul-forged pact that together they would release countless souls from the bondage of undeath. Her true name is known only to Myharl, and the Maiden has been his loyal companion through countless battles.

As his curse has provoked his Wrath, so too has it affected the Maiden, reflected in her fiery appearance. Her sacrifice, dedication, and Myharl's soul-bound pact with her also acts as a conduit providing him continued access to the powers of the Order of Voln—even after the darkening of his soul and his rejection of worship of the Arkati. To this day, the the now fiery maiden fights by his side in the sunless frigid Hinterwilds. To reflect the changes experienced by them both, the sword was renamed from "Forlorn Maiden" to "Maiden's Wrath" in 5123.

Origins Vignette: The Maiden of the Abbey

The storm announced itself with a breath—cold, sharp, and laced with something ancient.

Myharl paused along the narrow mountain trail that curled like a pale vein across the southeastern shoulder of Mount Aenatumgana. Behind him, the vast snowbound plains and gelid glacier spread in a vast ocean of white and slate, blurring into the distant peaks that broke the horizon like the vertebrae of a sleeping Drake. His braided beard, stiff with frost, tugged gently in the rising wind, and his heavy cloak billowed behind him in a slow, erratic undulation.

Then the wind rose again—sharper this time, more insistent—as the storm arrived in earnest. It came with a roar, an avalanche white windswept snow and ice sharp as slivers of bone, blasted in erratic maelstrom, obscuring the trail, the mountainside, even the sky. The weak northern sun was devoured in a matter of moments, reduced to a faint glow veiled behind curtains of nival fury.

Myharl grunted and leaned forward, one massive hand braced against the slope as he continued his ascent. Snow packed into the ridges of his armor and vambraces as hoarfrost crusted the ridgeline of his cowl. His every breath was a plume of steam cast from aching lungs, and each step forward grew heavier.

His legs burned. The wind howled down from the crags above like a keening beast, tugging at flesh. Snow surged around in growing drifts, each step swallowed almost instantly, erased as if he had never passed at all.

Then, through the veil of white, a shape resolved in the distance—hunched, angular, and half-buried in the shoulder of the mountain. A structure sheared by time and ruin slumped inward, frost-rimed masonry black against the snow. Arched windows gaped like open yawning mouths, their panes shattered, and from within issued utter darkness—deep, foreboding, and absolute.

The Abbey.

He pushed forward, boots sinking deep into the drifts, until he reached the long-collapsed gates into the courtyard. The archway loomed above him, marked with engravings worn smooth by time and relentless winds. Myharl passed beneath without ceremony. He needed shelter, and as his body violently shivered, any would do.

Within it was quiet, too quiet—not the silence of abandonment, but the hush of a place that had never wanted voices in the first place. The howl of the wind from without laced through through barren rafters and droned in eerie modulation; a lonesome song lamenting a forgotten past.

Myharl surveyed the dilapidated sanctuary with narrowed eyes. The main hall stretched into dimness, illuminated only by the cold bluish glow of the snow-mist beyond and a strange, pulsing pallor that seemed to rise from the stones themselves. Here and there, remnants of divinity lay ruined: a sundered altar, its base cracked and crumbling. Frost sheathed everything, like a shroud pulled over a corpse.

And then he found the hearth. The thought of warmth was a welcomed one, and there seemed to be more than enough refuse lying about to sustain a sizable flame.

Myharl crouched and began clearing debris from the hearth with his gauntleted hands, fingers throbbing and numb. He piled tender scavenged from the rubble—torn bannisters, a broken crosier, the spine of a rotted book—and struck flint to steel. The flame bloomed reluctantly, a flickering tongue of gold in the darkness.

The fire warmed his face, and for a moment, he allowed himself to breathe.

He had dozed, slumped against the wall near the fire, his head drooped like a resting beast. Now his eyes snapped open to what he thought was the sound of faint feminine laughter. As though drawn by something watching from the edge of vision, he tightened the grip on the hilt of his sword, which rested across his knees, and let his eyes remain fixed forward. Myharl did not speak.

And then he saw them. Figures faint as mist and pale as bone, drifting between the arches at the edges of the nave. Dozens. Cloaked in white, veiled in tatters, their faces shrouded by time and shadow. The nedum vereri.

They did not walk so much as they glided across the litter-strewn cobbled floors. Their feet scarcely lighting upon the ground with each step. Some moved with measured grace; others with a twitching, staccato motion, as though barely stitched into coherence. Their eyes—if they had eyes—glowed from their shadow-shrouded faces.

He stood. His blade sang from its sheath with a low, reverent sound, and as he lifted it the flame in the hearth surged high, casting long shadows that danced like revenants along the Abbey walls.

The first of the damned sisters came for him in silence, her hand outstretched to him, beckoning him closer as if she were a lover. Myharl met her with steel and fury, his blessed bastard sword slashing through her. The blade sundered through the midsection of the vereri as she burst into a howling rage, unraveling in a flurry of ashen motes that scattered and were gone.

Then the others descended. They swarmed in a sinuous dance, claws and moans, an orgy of bloodthirst and unbridled fury. Their fingers found the seams of his armor, tearing and rending. One grasped the edge of his beard and shrieked into his face, her handsome visage twisting to the horrid and leathery face of a rotting corpse. He roared in turn, the fire in his blood rising, his blade sweeping in wide arcs, radiant with the blessing he had received at the Trace’s temple. Each stroke a prayer. Each prayer a release from the bondage of undeath.

However, no matter how many of the fallen sisters Myharl cleaved through, the nedum vereri did not stop. Their numbers pressed in like a tide, their grasping hands stretching toward Myharl with clawed intent. Their cries of ecstasy grew louder as talons tore into flesh. His blade, once radiant, began to lose its faint shimmering glow. The edge dulled, not with rust or wear, but with a creeping dimness—as if unseen sorrow bled into it, draining its light.

Behind him, the hearth-fire sputtered. Its tongues of flame no longer danced, but trembled low against the cold stone basin, dimming into a faint, flickering ember. The air thickened, clotted with dread and the scent of death and rot.

One of the nedum vereri lunged with sudden, unnatural speed. Her claw, long and twisted, pierced his left shoulder just beneath its pauldron. Myharl grunted, teeth clenched, as a sharp pain bloomed under his skin and through his spine like frost spidering across glass. He pivoted, wrenching free, but another was already upon him.

Thin arms snaked around his chest, caressing his muscular physique as the sisters pulled him to the floor. Their touch was not merely agony—it was emptying. He staggered backward, every breath now a desperate struggle.

The last of those he had struck before he was overtaken—from where her torso lain sliced open wide—released a faint glowing spectre that drifted towards the dying hearth flame. Across from the guttering fire, she began to coalesce and take form.

Her shape gathered in pieces—first the outline of limbs, then the sway of long, unbound hair swaying as if adrift beneath the waves of the Frostmain. Her tattered veil reknit itself slowly around her exposed body, threads weaving from the air like spidersilk. She drifted like mist, her ghostly eyes gazing towards Myharl as he struggled for his life. Her presence seemed to cast upon him a deepening silence as the horde of undead sisters lavished upon his broken body.

Grace and sorrow. Her skin was luminous with an inner pallor, pale as lily petals and appeared youthfully smooth against high cheekbones and sunken eyes. Her stare pierced through him, not with malice, but with a sense of knowing.

She took one silent step forward. A wind stirred—not of the mountain, not of the storm beyond the ruined walls, but of memory. It passed through the fetid heavy atmosphere of the Abbey as cleansed breath that brushed Myharl’s face; a whisper from a life unlived.

As the ghostly woman reached forth and gently touched Myharl’s outstretched hand, the hearth’s fire surged suddenly once again to life with a crackling roar. The flames flickering argent and amber, danced with colors that did not exist under any sun. In that instant, something within Myharl stirred—a memory not his own, a song he had never sung, and yet one he somehow knew deep in his marrow. The sword in his hand blazed anew, its steel catching the sacred light and illuminating the chamber. Power poured down the hilt like tears—crystalline and perfect. His breath caught in his chest, and when he swung the blade, it was as if the grief of the ghostly maiden flowed through his movements.

Three nedum vereri fell in consecutive strokes. Bodies broken. Souls released. Their fleeting light cast into rising wisps of ashen remains as their cries echoed; the final exhale of souls long bound.

Then another, and another. Each cut peeled them from the Abbey like a taint from sacred stone until none there remained. Only her. Only the maiden.

Her translucent, incorporeal figure stood across from him, where fire and shadow danced in broken symmetry. Her veil swayed slightly in an unseen breeze, and though her lips did not part, he heard her. A soft-spoken feminine voice. Her name did not speak itself in sound, but in feeling. In empathy and sorrow.

He did not speak it. He could not. To say it aloud would be to unmake this bond. So he held it within, secret, reverent and still like a relic, and in that moment their pact was understood.

The knowledge pressed against his chest with unbearable gentleness. What she had sacrificed to aid him. Her desire. Her promise.

Across from the hearth's low-burning light, the maiden inclined her head—no more than the tilt of a stem bowing under frost. However, within that single motion was the gravity of a covenant. Something older than language and more sacred than an oath.

Myharl lowered himself, humbled to one knee. His massive form bent in a quietude as he held the blade of his sword in both hands, extending them towards the maiden. A faint smile donned her face in acknowledgement as she reached out a slender arm to touch the weapon. Her figure receded into translucency as the glowing aura intensified around the warsword until naught but the light of her touch blessed the weapon.

Between the living and the unmourned—a promise was made. He would carry her grief, and together they would break the chains of those bound in unlife. So long as her name remained unspoken, she would haunt his blade, her spirit making it sanctified, and she would fight at his side.

Myharl remained as he was, unmoving, for a long while. Kneeling in the half-ruined Abbey, beneath rafters that moaned and creaked from the frigid winds, surrounded by the warm crackling firelight of the hearth. Only when the fire at last ebbed into dull crimson coals, did he finally stir.

He rose—slowly, solemnly, like a stone lifted from its resting place amongst the ruins—and brought the sword before him. His eyes traced down its length as he slowly slashed through the darkness before him. The blade, now limned with a brilliant white light, had been transformed. Pulling the weapon closer, his deep rumbling voice broke the silence. The blade was named, "Forlorn Maiden."

About the Sword

Appearance of the sword and Maiden's spirit before Myharl's darkening:


a glowing white sacred warsword 
The hilt and quillons of the warsword are fashioned into the likeness of a gnarled and twisted corpse with its arms outstretched in ghoulish repose. A series fine chains drape from the extended arms in trio, and arc down to wrap around the torso, providing a secure grip for the weapon. The blade has been faintly etched with the image of a beautiful wisp-surrounded maiden, reaching up towards its tip. In relation, she appears to be rising from the horrid anatomy of the corpse beneath her. You notice a small enchanter's glyph and a crafting mark. A strange necrotic haze radiates from the warsword. A strong aura of holy light radiates from the warsword. There appears to be something written on it.
In the Common language, it reads: Forlorn Maiden 
An Incorporeal Forlorn Maiden
The young woman's figure is lithe and loosely garbed in a sheer gown as pale as fresh snowfall.  A neck-strung key rests listlessly against her bust.  In gentle disarray, her hair appears constantly windswept and wild in contrast to the expression on her face.  Her features are steadfast, her lips pressed into a thin line, but her gaze is intense and tearful with almost palpable sorrow.

Maiden's Wrath

Current appearance of the sword and Maiden's spirit now altered by Myharl's Wrath:


a glowing white sacred warsword bound by ethereal chains around its hilt 
The hilt and quillons of the warsword are fashioned into the likeness of a gnarled and twisted corpse with its arms outstretched in ghoulish repose.  A series of ethereal chains drape from the extended arms in trio, and arc down to wrap around the torso.  The brightly glowing white alloy blade has been etched with the likeness of a beautiful wisp-surrounded maiden reaching sinuously towards its tip.  In relation, she appears to be rising from the horrid anatomy of the corpse beneath her.  You notice a small enchanter's glyph and a crafting mark.  A strange necrotic haze radiates from the warsword.  A strong aura of holy light radiates from the warsword.
In the Common language, it reads: Maiden's Wrath

• Emerging from Myharl's glowing white sacred warsword, a fiery spectral maiden coalesces and launches straight toward his enemy, engulfing them in a searing sphere of fire!

A Flame-Shrouded Maiden
The maiden's slender and lithe figure is loosely shrouded by a spiraling helix of ethereal flames.  In riotous disarray, her blazing hair appears constantly windswept and wild, accenting her sinuous movements as her delicate physique gracefully dances, weaving through the flaming helix that spins around her.

• A flame-shrouded maiden unfurls the helix of flames around her to lash out at her enemy.
• A helix of flames spiraling around her lithe figure, a flame-shrouded maiden dances while summoning a fiery maelstrom to surround her enemy.

Click Here to view the full item details for Maiden's Wrath.

Part VI: Endless Winter: Shadows & Talons (5122-Current Modern Era)

Pictured: Myharl the Dark Tower at the Fjallarhaart runestone in the Hinterwilds.Also pictured: warg packmother, valravn, Gigas runestone. Graphic generated by the player of Myharl using a combination of Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop.

Beyond the Long Snow

New visions, prompted by the Eye of the Drake, set his path to the edge of the world, beyond the Long Snow and into the Hinterwilds. Soon upon arriving, merit was given to his foresight as a fierce dragonic figure soared overhead beneath the dark skies and glowing aurora. This was the place of wyrms in the long-ago dreams which led him from the desert wastes. It goes unquestioned that his fate has led him into the endless winter, a place tainted by dark magic. Ancient magic. A force that relentlessly wears away at his soul. Day-by-day he grows distant, darker—more grim. The once joyful, fun-loving giant has grown starkly cold and notably more bloodthirsty (even for the berserker that he is). However, something draws him back from the edge of darkness after each trek into the long night. 

Arkati Forsaken & Denouncing the Great Drake



Having spent most of his adult life as a devout servant of Koar, the discovery that the Eye of the Drake is the source of a curse he bears, rather than a divine artifact of the Great Drake, has driven him to forsake all Arkati. Now understanding the nature of his visions and unyielding pull to the North, he feels the deception he has been ignorantly living for decades reflects on the dismissive and apathetic nature of the divine. He's just another pawn in their game.
Pictured: The Light of the Disir claiming the fallen Myharl in the Pits of the Dead beneath Angargreft in the Hinterwilds. Graphic generated by the player of Myharl using a combination of Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop.
Light of the Disir



Soon after his arrival in the Hinterwilds, he encountered the disir, ascended gigas shieldmaidens, and their otherworldly light casts the true nature of his soul into the material world in the form of semi-corporreal shadows that maelstrom around his massive figure, creeping tendrils of darkness that sometimes manifest shadows in the shape of large dragon-like wings from his back. The reason for this remains a mystery, however the kindred and the disir seem to be somehow connected, for they have become a part of his dreams and visions as well as apparent keepers of his soul. When Myharl falls in battle, a trio of the winged maidens take to the skies seeking to recover his body and soul to reunite both in the realm of the living. This mysterious connection he refers to simply as, the "Light of the Disir".

Custom Shadows (Appears before injuries section): Dark shadows twist and swirl around him.

Custom Teleport/Urchin Travel —

Coming: Shadowy tendrils rise from the ground and quickly coalesce into a humanoid form. As quickly as they appeared, the shadows retreat back into the surroundings, leaving Myharl in their place.

Going: Shadowy tendrils rise from the ground and wrap around Myharl's legs as they quickly engulf his entire body. The shadows quickly retreat back into the surroundings, leaving no trace of Myharl.

Custom Death Message: A trio of disir with radiantly feathered wings traverse the firmament to seek the fallen Myharl.

Custom Decay Message: A faint rhythmic susurrus becomes ubiquitous as a trio of feminine figures fly into the area, the winged maidens clad in shining golden armor.  The triumvirate of disir descend near the corpse of Myharl and gather his lifeless body into their embrace before ascending and soaring into the distance. 

Gryphonwind No More




Since the time of exile from his tribe in the Southron Wastes, Myharl had taken the surname Gryphonwind to pay homage to the woman who sacrificed herself to save his life during the wyrm attack on his encampment the night the Eye of the Drake came into his possession. He has distanced himself from the name after uncovering the truth that Gryphonwind was actually a manifestation of the dark entity bound within the Eye, made material by the powers of two corrupt Ishan from Kilanirij, who had intentionally delivered the artifact to bind his soul in curse. The motives of the dark entity remain a mystery to him beyond the being's desire to hone his Wrath and bend his will to become its Destroyer.



Crest of the Dark Tower




Haven forsaken his faith in the Arkati and rejected his identity as a servant of Koar, Myharl found need to rid himself of the God King's signet and seal that he had worn so proudly for most of his adult life. To this end, he designed a new crest, one to bear which identified him as an individual and reflected his truth in blazon.

The Crest of the Dark Tower is Myharl's official seal. It is used as a signet on all corisponances composed by the kindred. The emblem dons his shield and standard during tournaments and contests. He wears an onyx signet ring bearing the crest proper. 



a tower-ensigiled onyx signet ring worn on the right middle finger

The elaborate sigil upon the stygian onyx ring depicts a shadow-shrouded dark tower beneath an eclipsed moon borne upon a starless night sky.  The ovular signet is bound to the band by two opposing ardent rampant wyrms.



The symbolism of the crest is as follows: 



  • Central dark tower — represents Myharl himself and his moniker The Dark Tower.
    • 

  • Eclipsed moon stationed above the tower — represents hidden truths, his shadows, and the belief that light will one day return to his darkness.
    • 

  • Starless night sky — represents the starless skies of the far North, his domain, cloaked in the aurora of endless night.
    • 

  • Rampant opposing wyrms — a reminder of his mortality, the two wyrms represent the first and last wyrm he will ever slay.


The three tiers of the tower represent the three major arcs in Myharl's life. The foundation being his youth as a nomad in the Southron Wastes and his exile, the middle tier being his life in Wehnimer's Landing as a morganatic noble and champion of Koar, and the top tier being his ventures beyond the Long Snow where his draconic visions were finally realized. With each tier the tower rises toward the eclipsed moon, bringing Myharl closer to uncovering his truth.

Battle of Beserker’s End

Day of the Huntress, day 26 of the month Lormesta in the year 5124.

A roiling wall of black ash surged across the frozen sea, sweeping inland from the Frostmain like a living storm. The sky over Angargreft darkened as the soot spiraled into the clouds, then funneled downward—directly toward Berserker’s End. A sudden stillness gripped the air. Then came the thud. Loud, slow, and heavy—each impact accompanied by a tremor that rattled stones and sent ice splintering from the marble structures of the ziggurat.

Upon the dais, the scene had not changed—at least, not at first glance. The monstrous body of Zerroth still lay atop the bier, a behemoth form sprawled in eternal repose. Blood oozed thick and slow from between from his slit wrists down upon red-veined blocks of marble, pooling beneath the bier in a ceaseless flow. The five stone pillars supporting the roof above were carved with downturned scimitars, each outlined in smeared ash. The wind, so often merciless in the Hinterwilds, barely dared to whisper.

Then, without warning, they came.

A V’tullian gigas destroyer crashed through the tree line, bellowing a battlecry that split the air like a riven mountain. A battlemaster followed, then a champion—each of them massive, frenzied, and armed for slaughter. The ground quaked beneath their charge.

Only Myharl stood before them.The kendred held the dais alone, facing the berserkers as they descended upon him with howls and steel.

He did not falter. With every swing, Myharl met them blow for blow the battle raged, long and brutal, and eventually, others came. Reinforcements from Cold River arrived—adventurers, warriors, spellweavers, all drawn by the tremors and the sounds of war. Together, they pushed back the V’tullians, driving them from the dais and into the depths of the forest.

But something was wrong.

When the blood-mist settled, Zerroth’s body was gone. The bier stood empty. The warlord’s titanic corpse had vanished without a trace. All looked on in stunned disbelief.

Then, the silence broke.

A voice—deep, booming, and unmistakably alive—rolled across the ruins.

"V’tull has sent these warriors! They will bring death and glory in my name! And that name is… ZERROTH!"

And so it was spoken. The berserker walked once more. 

*  Meanwhile in the Hinterwilds... (Log of events surrounding the Battle of Berserker's End).

Return to Icemule Trace

After the brutal confrontation with V’Tullian gigas berserkers at Berserker's End and the harrowing sight of the living corpse of Zerroth reawakened, Myharl decided to journey southward beyond the Long Snow to the glacial city of Icemule Trace. He sought the city’s town council to warn of the grim and imminent threat now stirring in the Hinterwilds.

When he arrived with the warning, he was met with further foreboding news. Ominous portents and whispered rumors surrounded the rise of a shadowy sect known as the Dusk Coven. Deeply troubled, and sensing a sinister link between the Coven’s growing influence and shadows to the North, Myharl chose to remain in Icemule Trace, lending his strength and insight to the investigation of the cult and their obsessive pursuit of a legendary artifact known as the Orb of Kai, that the cult seemed to believe to be hidden somewhere within Icemule Trace. 

Vignette: The Old Man Remembers



* Reunion with Icemule Trace — A vignette prequel explaining Myharl’s motives and interests in becoming involved in the The Watchfire Pact storyline happening in and around Northwatch. Takes place at sundown on the Giantman Path in Commerce Burrow of Icemule Trace on Tilamaires the 30th of Lormesta, 5124 of the Modern Era.

Kinship in the Cold

During this time of growing unrest, Myharl forged a close alliance with councilmember Jastalyn Dragorth. What began as a partnership of purpose deepened into heartfelt affection. Love blossomed between them as they worked together to investigate both the Dusk Coven and the Orb of Kai. The two would venture together on several delves into the caverns beneath Icemule Trace, the old ruined town, and various landmark sites around the snowy plains. 

Vignette: The Tale of Two Towers



* A Tale of Two Towers — An entry in a serialized series. A vignette about  Myharl's continued investigation into the Dusk Coven and dark dealings going on in and around Northwatch. Takes place late evening on the back porch of Twilight Hall in the company of Jastalyn on Leyan the 7th of Fashanos in the year 5124 of the Modern Era.
Log: Benediction Gone Wrong



* Benediction Gone Wrong (Log) Leyan, day 14 of the month Fashanos in the year 5124.
On the evening of Leyan, day 14 of the month Fashanos in the year 5124, at 21:30 ET, The High Priestess Ellusine attends the small niche on Pilsner Avenue in Icemule Trace to lead a benediction to Voaris and Laethe in honor of the holiday. The Mayor, who arranged for the ceremony, and several Town Council members attend alongside interested citizens and visitors. The Dusk Coven would use dark magic to interrupt the benediction and issue direct threats against the denizens of Icemule Trace. Witnessing this event solidified Myharl's resolve to do what he could to drive the Dusk Coven from the North.
Vignette: Troubled Thoughts & Restless Slumber



* Troubled Thoughts & Restless Slumber — An entry in a serialized series. A vignette reflecting upon Myharl's troubled thoughts soon after the failed benediction to Voaris and Laethe in Icemule Trace. Takes place late evening in the private residence of Jastalyn on Restday, the 3rd of Charlatos in the year 5124 of the Modern Era.

Foray into Northwatch Politics

As tensions escalated with the Lornonite cultists, he proposed a bold vision for the future of the fledgling nation of Northwatch, presenting it to the Icemule Trace Council and its mayor,Talliver Dabbings. Myharl advocated for a model of decentralized governance rooted in sovereign, self-determined member-states.

Political Perspectives - The North

Myharl is an advocate for the North, which includes Northwatch (as a whole), Icemule Trace, Pinefar, and Cold River among other northern outposts and villages. He is inclined to be nomadic and bears allegiance to no specific kingdom or nation, but rather heralds himself a free citizen of the North. If asked specifically where he calls home, his answer is most often Cold River. When conflicts of interest arise among the northern powers he allies himself with, the side he chooses is defined wholly by his own perspectives, but his inclination will always be to maintain peace, freedom, and unity in the North.

He takes an ardent stance against slavery and maintains a great disdain for rulers he believes to be tyrannical and antithetical to individual freedom. His social theology leans deeply into the Rule of Reciprocity: One should not behave towards others in a way which is disagreeable to oneself, drawing a distinct line between the right to free will and the intent to oppress others.

Northwatch Proposal

Presently, the concept of Northwatch remains amorphous. Some wish for it to become an empire unto itself, calling for a King of the North. Others wish to see it become a governing body with vast authorities over federated nation-states that make up the region. As a free citizen of the North, Myharl adheres to the belief that the right of regional autonomy is imperative to survival in the frozen frontiers, yet he also sees the need for unification as a means of preservation—particularly in regard to repeated incursions and threats levied by foreign nations and entities. It is Myharl's hope that Northwatch can become an alliance of sovereign states with all signatories bearing equal representation as arbiters in pact with the sole purpose to guarantee the freedom and security of its members through political and military means. It is his hope that Northwatch will promote democratic values, individual freedoms, and provide the nation-states of the North a reliable platform to consult and cooperate on defense and security-related issues, foster trust, and mitigate internal conflicts. 

* Myharl's Northwatch Alliance Proposal

The Coven Moves on Icemule

The Dusk Coven soon unleashed their fury upon Icemule Trace. Utilizing insidious shadow magics, they began to infiltrate the homes of the townsfolk, searching desperately for the Orb. In response, the townsfolk gathered in sacred communion with the Arkati Kai. Myharl attended out of respect and to stand at Jastalyn’s side as High Priestess of Kai, Evii presided over the solemn rite. Kai himself manifested. The apparition of Kai denounced the Dusk Coven with scorn and imparted cryptic revelations about the Orb and its intended bearer.

Delving Deep Below

Searching for the Orb, Myharl accompanied the adventurers of Icemule Trace, Jastalyn, Mayor Talliver, and the seasoned artifact hunter Prinn on an expedition beneath the town into the strange subterranean realm of Thurful’s Island.

The mysterious treasure hunter, Prinn, a human who hails from Briarmoon Cove, was hired by a mysterious benefactor to seek out the Orb of Kai. This client was unknown even to her and contacted her through dreams and reflections, but her dreams and research lead her to believe the orb was under Icemule.

Their descent eventually led them to a long-concealed passage, sealed behind crocodilian sigils. The magical seal placed upon the site was powerful, and the search for a key began.

Myharl donated a considerable bounty to the town’s treasury to support the ongoing search and personally combed the North for relics bearing resemblance to the enigmatic seal, many of which he dutifully handed over to town officials. 

Vignette: A Commitment Honored



* A Commitment Honored — An entry in a serialized series. A vignette reflecting upon some of Myharl's actions during the evening proceeding the delve into Thurfel's abandoned dungeon and Prinn's discovery of the sealed hidden passage beneath Icemule Trace. Events take place in the Hour of Ronan inside his office within Gryphonwind Ventures located in Wehnimer's Landing on Leyan, the 10th of Olaesta in the year 5124 of the Modern Era.

Celebration in a Grim Time

Amid the deepening crisis, Myharl and Jastalyn stood together beneath the boughs of the Garden Sanctuary to wed. Their union, sanctified by the grace of Oleani and witnessed by a gathering of allies and dignitaries, was a rare moment of peace and joy amid the encroaching darkness.

Unlocking Kai’s Mysteries

Spurred by Kai’s revelations and his own relentless instincts, Myharl scrutinized the architecture of Icemule Trace anew. By laying the route of Cholen Lane upon a town map, he unearthed a long-abandoned manse that served as a gateway for the Dusk Coven. He watched cultists emerge from the manse—but never enter—confirming its unnatural nature. He presented his findings to Mayor Talliver, urging decisive action to destroy the structure and seal the portal it contained.

Dawn to Dusk

Talliver’s hesitation and his faltering diplomatic efforts in Coven’s enigmatic base Sablecross became a final disappointment. In response, Myharl established the Northern Dawn, a resistance movement dedicated to unmasking and eradicating the Dusk Coven. The cause gathered momentum rallied under the unifying call: “The Dawn to vanquish the Dusk.”

Acquisition of the Orb of Kai

In the days following the discovery of the sealed door beneath Thurfel’s Island, Prinn was struck by a series of cryptic visions. Guided by her insights, the adventurers of Icemule Trace set out on an expedition to the old ruined city. There, among crumbling foundations and half-buried colonnades, they began excavating in search of a crocodile-shaped key foreseen by Prinn’s cryptic insights.

The dig was not unchallenged. A warband of V’tullian Gigas berserkers ambushed the expedition, bursting from the snow with bloodlust in their eyes and rusted weapons in hand. Myharl assumed they were sent by Zerroth, indicating the berserker now aided the Dusk Coven. A violent clash followed, the ruin grounds echoing with the roar of battle. Though the attackers struck with fury, the adventurers rallied, and the berserkers were slain to the last. Not long after, the key was unearthed.

With the key in hand, the adventurers—alongside Mayor Talliver—descended once more into the depths beneath Icemule. The crocodilian key fit the doorway perfectly. As the ancient seal gave way, it revealed a long-lost pseudo-tomb and an adjacent vault.

While the party scoured the tomb’s interior, Jastalyn discovered the Orb—an intricate eonake sphere graced with stark white adamantine filigree. Myharl, already wary of how deeply the Dusk Coven had embedded itself within Icemule’s ranks, advised that they not entrust the artifact to local authorities. Instead, he and Jastalyn secreted the Orb away to the fortress east of the city, placing it under careful study and guard. 

Vignette: A Hymn for Warriors



* A Hymn for Warriors — a vignette reflecting upon events from the perspective of Myharl while investigating the Orb of Kai with his wife and others. Events take place in inside the arcane study within the Fenog's Regulars lodge located on the outskirts of Icemule Trace on the evening of Day of the Huntress, the 23rd of Phoenatos in 5124. (audio-vignette)

Liberation of Glaeve in Glaoveln

Not long afterward, a krolvin vessel aligned with Northwatch was wrecked upon the jagged cliffs of the Frostmain, having sent a desperate plea for aid from Glaoveln. Myharl scoured the frozen coastline through the long night but found no survivors. When the krolvin chieftain Jkarog sought Icemule’s aid in liberating the beleaguered city of Glaeve—then partially occupied by the Iron Harpy’s forces—many believed it a trap. But Myharl advocated for intervention, asserting that to ignore a cry for help would betray Northwatch’s values.

The White Wyrm, Icemule’s great airship, was retrofitted for war, and a three-ship flotilla bore a militia across the frigid seas to Glaoveln. Myharl and Jastalyn ventured ahead, scouting the treacherous shores alone. Once the forces converged, they met fierce resistance from krolvin warriors loyal to the Iron Harpy. While the main host battled at Glaeve’s gates, Myharl, empowered by the radiance of the disir, slipped through the city’s defenses and launched a ferocious assault on the enemy’s command.

At the height of the siege, the White Wyrm descended and unleashed its devastating balefire upon the city’s main gate. With the way opened, Icemule’s militia stormed through, overwhelming the remaining defenders in brutal combat. Glaeve was freed, and governance was placed in the hands of Jkarog.

In the days that followed, the White Wyrm was conscripted to provide safe passage between Glaoveln and Northwatch’s mainland, marking a decisive strategic victory for the Northern Dawn and solidifying its influence across the region.

Tracing Corruption

In the coming weeks, the treachery of the Dusk Coven grew more rampant within the city of Icemule Trace itself. Realizing the tendrils of the cult had reached deep into Icemule’s governing bodies, Myharl grew wary. Disillusioned with the Council’s compromised leadership and their inability to organize resistance against the Coven, he stepped away from open political engagement.

The Orb's stewardship was entrusted to Jastalyn, who in turn placed it in the hands of the Regulators of the Northern Frontier, a decision born of trust and necessity. With that burden passed, Myharl turned his gaze once again northward, to the grim menace of the Wyrmcult lurking in the sunless, frozen lands of the far North.

Night of the Wyrms

On Feastday, the 7th of Imaerasta 5124, a plague of wyrms fell upon the icy, gale-battered Hinterwilds. Seemingly prompted by mysterious actions of the gigas wyrmcult, the skies filled with the silvery blue gleam of wyrmscale. Throughout the night dozens of the fierce scaled beast took to wing, the invasion prompting responses from the trio of gigas villages, each unveiling a series of massive mobile ballistae to defend against the flying menace.

To secure the safety of the denizens of Cold River, a ragtag party of wyrmslayers lead by Myharl took up arms, marching to stake claim over each ballista for themselves. Using the devices to fire gargantuan harpoons into the aurora-strewn skies, they provoked the wyrms to take to ground for more direct engagement.

Throughout the evening the adventurers risked life and limb to fell wyrm-after-wyrm in a grueling onslaught lasting well into the witching hours of Restday morning, yet the brave wyrmslayers were victorious.

When the last of the swarming draconic monsters shuddered in its death throes, life seeping from its writhing scaled figure to transform into a towering stone monument, those who dwell beyond the Long Snow all knew something had changed. The ever-lingering sense of dark magic and ancient threat emanating from the Boreal Forest seemed heavier and more foreboding.

Some set to honing their blades in preparation for the next wave. Others steeled their resolve to hunt down the wyrm-bound mutants to discover the motives of their wyrmcult. All breathed a sigh of relief as the chaos of the evening faded to the stillness of wintry snowfall.

Equipment and Assets

Tattoos & Visible Markings

  • a silvered ebon tattoo depicting a wyrm's talon descending from beneath his left eye
  • a small dark shard-shaped mark on his neck (Branded by the hand of The Exiled Nexur)
  • a pair of knotwork wyrm tattoos unfurling from over his shoulders to lock gazes on his chest
  • a sinuously coiled abyran'sa tattoo on his arm
Depicted inward-stationed upon his right forearm in graceful repose, the feminine abyran'sa has been inked in detailed shadowy umbral linework.  She bears striking dark elven features scarcely concealed by a clinging shroud of moonflowers that spills down over her curvy body.  Her complexion is shaded in pallid hues accented by fair hair that falls riotously from a sharp widow's peak to frame her aristocratic features.  Her serpentine tail coils tightly around his arm, terminating just above his wrist.
  • a caliginous shadowy drake tattoo on his arm
Inked in dark ebon hues, the fierce drake is depicted inward-stationed upon his left forearm, its wings extend behind its fierce, scaled figure in partial horaltic pose to appear as if about to take to the skies.  The draconic creature's fierce visage gazes upwards, bearing what seems to be a longing gaze, its eyes fixed upon a selenic crescent suspended above the backdrop of a dark tower.
  • a pair of flaming drake's wings tattooed on his back
Stretching from shoulder-blade to waist on either side of his spine, the tattoo is an excellent rendering of a pair of inferno-wreathed drake's wings that lay furled and quiescent.  Ebon inks create the delicate boning, while sanguine hues limned in plum create tiny veins.

Primary Weapons & Armaments

Myharl invests primarily into a single set of gear that includes his glowing white sacred warsword "Forlorn Maiden" and His black alloy armor set. While he does purchase other non-combat equipment from time-to-time, the bulk of his fortune is spent on improvements for this, his 'end-game' set of combat gear. The following list will be maintained and updated as improvements are made to the items.

(Maiden's Wrath) A Glowing White Sacred Warsword Bound by Ethereal Chains Around its Hilt — 10x (+50), T5 Ensorcell, S6 Sancitfy with Holy Fire, GEF + Unique Custom Fire Flares, Very Heavy Critical Weighting (11 CER), Very Heavy Damage Weighting (11 CER), Unlocked Lore, Perfect-forged, 5 lbs. (Max Light), Holy Bastard Sword crafted of White Alloy w/ Non-corporeal Undead Bane (+8 CER Damage Weighting), Legacy Permabless +5 against undead, 25% chance to treat non-corporeal undead as corporeal, anchors non-corporeal undead when slain, Lesser Moods (Fire and Holy), Fancy Stancing Flourish, Heavy Handed Sword Flourish, Stance Dancing Weapon Flourish, Thousand Cuts Flourish, originally named "Forlorn Maiden"; reforged in 2123 as "Maiden's Wrath", [1,108 difficulty], wielded by Myharl with Weapon Bonding and Tainted Bond.

Includes a matching 'Flame-Shrouded Maiden' unique legendary spirit beast.

A Full Suit of Black Alloy Platemail Bearing a Shadowed Wyrmscale Motif — 7x (+33), T5 Ensorcell, S6 Sanctify with Holy Fire, Unbalance Flares, Fatal Afflares (Cold/Blizzard), Spiked, Very Heavy Critical Padding (11 CER; 18/30), Very Heavy Damage Padding (11 CER; 0/30), Unlocked Lore, 38 lbs. (Max Light), Holy Full Plate crafted of Black Alloy w/ 5% Resistances against Crush/Slash/Puncture, +4 Stamina Recovery Enhancive (25 Charges Max) [868 difficulty]

Krodera-Bound Black Alloy Tower Shield — 10x (+50), T5 Ensorcell, S6 Sanctify with Holy Fire, Fire Flares, Fatal Afflares (Cold/Blizzard), Spiked, Fully Unlocked T2 Shield Harness, Unlocked Lore, Max Light, Holy Tower Shield crafted of Black Alloy [756 difficulty]

Black Alloy Vambraces — Fully Unlocked T4 Brutal/Cunning Fancy Greaves (Switchable Lightning Flares/Fire Flares/Plasma Flares) with Ghost Flare Messaging, Spiked, S6 Sanctify with Holy Fire, Very Heavy Critical Padding (10 CER), Very Heavy Damage Padding (10 CER), Unlocked Lore, Max Light, Holy Arm Greaves crafted of black alloy w/ +10 Constitution (base) enhancive with Upgraded Charges (105 Charges Max). [391 difficulty] This armament can hold/equip/sheath two daggers.

Slit-Visored Black Alloy Greathelm Crested with Shining Disir Feathers — Anfelt Armor Zested, Acid Flares, Fatal Afflares (Cold/Blizzard), Spiked, HDP/HCP, Unlocked Lore, Maxlight Greathelm (head/neck) crafted of black alloy w/ +8 STR enhancive (19 charges max). [61 difficulty]

Mesh Black Alloy Aventail — Acid Flares, Fatal Afflares (Cold/Blizzard), Spiked, LDP/LCP, Unlocked Lore, Maxlight Aventail crafted of black alloy w/ +6 AGL/+7 Max Stamina enhancives (53 charges max). [14 difficulty]

Pair of Black Alloy Leg Greaves — Acid Flares, Fatal Afflares (Cold/Blizzard), Spiked, LDP/LCP, Unlocked Lore, Maxlight Leg Greaves crafted of black alloy w/ +11 DEX/+8 Harness Power Bonus enhancives (17 charges max). [18 difficulty]

Other Notable Items & Gear

Winter's Embrace

a black alloy neckchain suspending a shard of rime-shrouded everfrost
+6 Constitution Bonus, +5 Arcane Symbols Bonus, +1 Religion Bonus, +1 Summoning Bonus (Worn around neck, functional)

Suspended by a thick black alloy neckchain traced with faint verglas, the everfrost is pale and clear, but fingers of frost clinging to its surface suggest that it is no mere diamond, but a chunk of crystallized rhimar.  The jewel radiates intense cold, causing the air around it to puff into faint wisps of mist.  A blizzard of frigid blue and glacial green glints wink across its jagged facets.

Ambient #1: A frigid helical miasma of wintry mist coalesces around a black alloy neckchain suspending a shard of rime-shrouded everfrost worn by Myharl before condensing into hoary frost particulates that embrace its deep glacial facets.

Ambient #2: Myharl exhales deeply, his breath condensing into wintry mist as the gelid aura surrounding the shard of rime-shrouded everfrost suspended by his black alloy neckchain freezes a miniature blizzard that evaporates while drifting slowly downward.


Zests:

INVOKE — A frigid blizzard of ice erupts from within Myharls's black alloy neckchain, howling out to engulf him in a frosty veil that quickly dissipates, leaving him unharmed as stray snowflakes swirl around his head before melting away.

RUB — Icy blue runes shimmer into existence across the surface of Myharls's black alloy neckchain, bathing it in glacial light.

TAP — Glacial cobalt and white ice spreads from Myharl's black alloy neckchain, covering his hands in a frigid shell which quickly melts away.

Ancient Wyrm Talon Bound in Arabesqued Balenite 
   Shadow themed premium teleportation device (Worn as a pin, functional)

Softly Lucent Pearlescent Scale Gilded in Starveil 
   T6 Lucky Item, +10 Edged Weapons, +5 Stamina Recovery, +4 Physical Fitness, +1 Mana Recovery enhancive (Worn anywhere, functional)

a deeply hooded ebon shadowsilk robe mantled in lightless valravn quills 
   Feature Concealing Hooded Cloak, Fully Unlocked Xojium Robes, Epic Deepened to Hold Gigantic Amount, 40% Weight Reduction (Worn over the shoulders, functional)


Kilt of Shadowy Valravn Quills Cinched by a Silver-shot Wyrm's Talon Sporran
   Kilt/Greatkilt zested, Holds Slightly Large Amount (Worn over the legs, functional)

Twisted Widowwood Band Grasping A Glowing Madstone — +6 CON, +1 Thrown Weapons enhancive, persists, huge number of charges (Worn on fingers, functional)

~~Sparkling Balenite Ring Crowned With A Wintry Everfrost Shard~~ — +7 DEX enhancive, persists, huge number of charges (Worn on fingers, functional)
Note: Myharl proposed to Jastalyn with this ring in Fashanos of 5124 M.E.

Pets & Animal Companions

Pictured: Aurora. Myharl's nival white arctic lemming with glowing azure eyes. Image generated by the player of Myharl using Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop.
Pictured: Myrkr. Myharl's imposing fuliginous raven. Image generated by the player of Myharl using Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop.
Pictured: Munin. Myharl's winged-wisp. Image generated by the player of Myharl using Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop.
Pictured: Kruna. Myharl's muscular sable elk. Image generated by the player of Myharl using Stable Diffusion (DPM++@M Karras sampling method) and Midjourney with post processing in Photoshop.

Aurora — a nival white arctic lemming with glowing azure eyes 

Myharl discovered the nival arctic lemming trapped in the nebulous void of the River of Color. She had apparently been there quite some time, weak, unmoving, and unable to escape. She managed to subsist as long as she had by consuming the motes floating among the spilling brume of color. Eating the particles of essence caused her eyes to glow with swirling hues of azure; a feature that seems to be permanent. He rescued her, returning her to the Boreal Forest, but the little creature refused to leave his side. So, he instead named her Aurora as her lucent eyes reminded him of the shifting hues of the aurora in the Hinterwilds. She's quite the nuisance, but her presence has grown on him.

Myrkr — an imposing fuliginous raven 

The unusual shadowy raven was acquired by a friend during her research into Myharl's curse, selected due to its similarities with the shadows that writhe around the kindred's figure. The giant and the avian took an immediate liking to one another when they first met in her laboratory. When her research utilizing the raven was completed, she bestowed its safekeeping to Myharl, and he named him Myrkr, which is the Gigas word for 'Darkness'.

An imposing fuliginous raven alights upon his shoulder, extending its tapered wings to frame him in shadows.

Munin — a winged-wisp 

The tiny wisp looks like nothing more than a glowing cerulean spark.  Peering closely, you can barely make out a pair of miniscule wings, beating so rapidly it's almost impossible to see much more than a blur.  The creature is otherworldly, something rare and mysterious, and it possesses a mesmerizing quality of immortality.

How Myharl came to be in the company of Munin remains a mystery, but the otherworldly mote of light was only seen in the kindred's presence soon after he ventured beyond the Long Snow into the Hinterwilds. He refers to the wisp by the Gigas word for 'Memory', though it seems to be more akin to a title than an actual name.

Kruna — a muscular sable elk 

A massive black elk standing six-feet tall at the shoulder. It bears an excessively muscular physique and dons a crown of massive dark antlers. The beast was a gift from Myharl's wife, Jastalyn, to serve as a mount to aid in his long journey's beyond the Long Snow. Admiring the massive caliginous antlers hoisted by the creature's muscular neck, he named him Kruna, which is the Gigas word for 'One Wearing a Crown'.

He is riding a muscular sable elk.

Dark Tower Imports & Myharl's Office

Dark Tower Imports is Myharl's shop.

The shop is located in Wehnimer's Landing at the first block of Ebonwood Way (Lich# L337) inside the hexagonal stone building. Before Feastday the 15th day of Lumnea in the year 5124, the shop was known "Grphonwind Ventures" (a reference to his previous surname "Gryphonwind" which he had taken as his own but later denounced). The shop title was maintained due to the slow-moving bureaucratic nature of the merchant guild, but the request to rename it was finally fulfilled and it is now officially registered as "Dark Tower Imports".

The shop was established by Myharl in 5109 and the business began as a quaint single-room antiquities shop specializing in veil iron rarities and relics from ages long past. This early venture was highly profitable and the selection of wares quickly expanded as did the storefront. In 5110 "Gryphonwind Ventures" was founded.

The shop was officially registered with the Wehnimer's Landing merchant guild, and Myharl founded his personal office in the west wing of the establishment. The location is as much a base of operations as a functional storefront, and when he's in town, Myharl can most frequently be found loitering within.

In 5113, Dallin Proudmire, a professional bard and scribe, was hired to verify new wares to be displayed and tend to the shop while Myharl was away on his adventures. He has since become a silent partner in the venture.

The success of the iterations of his shop have made Myharl an independently wealthy man. A fortune that benefits his tendencies towards distant expeditions northward as well as a wide array of philanthropic work ranging from providing food and clothing for orphans at Wellington Home to investing into the renovations of Wehnimer's Museum. 

OOC Note about Citizenship: Myharl doesn't consider Wehnimer's Landing his "home" any longer, his curse beckoning him ever Northward, but due to the limitation of game mechanics, he must have citizenship there to maintain his shop. The shop has been his since 2009, is integral to his character history, has been highly customized, sits on the first block in the Landing player shops neighborhood, and is often the very first shop in the directory. For those reasons, I have no intention of moving or transferring the shop, so Myharl's citizenship remains tied to Wehnimer's Landing for the foreseeable future.

Open Sea Adventures

Ranks: Master Navigator

The Frigid Argent Wanderlust

The Frigid Argent Wanderlust is a sloop Myharl purchased to assist with importing various wares to sell in his shop, Dark Tower Imports. It can usually be found docked in Wehnimer's Landing when not pressed into service. He doesn't regularly participate in Open Sea Adventures because his goals and interests are focused elsewhere. Though from time to time he will sail with friends and associates.

Gryphonwind Special Cinnamon Whiskey

Gryphonwind Special is a home-branded whiskey distilled by Myharl. The grains he uses are flavored with a hefty amount of fiery cinnamon and sweet amaranth greens, and lightly infused with hints of ground bitter delphinuris (delphira) leaves and sweet salorisa (saloryss) flower petals.

He distills a new barrel every year, and ages the spirits for five years in sephwir kegs which he keeps stowed in the back room of his shop, Gryphonwind Ventures in Wehnimer's Landing. In the shop Foyer, he usually keeps a small stock available to purchase at a cost of 1 silver. He sometimes will provide a keg and free drinks for a special event he is attending if such offering is appropriate for the event protocol. The drink is served in wooden flagons, which he insists is integral to drawing out the the true flavor of the whiskey. 

A Veniom-Bound Silvery Sephwir Keg (an oversized carved wooden flagon of Gryphonwind Special)

Fun Box-Found Unique Items

Here you will find a running log of fun box-found unique items I've come across over the years. Still in progress since I need to review logs to find the ones from the distant past. 

• a wild-looking stuffed nedum vereri holding a tiny mirror [Found: 01/12/23, Hinterwilds] (old style scripted toy)


• some canvas suspenders woven in a rolton-print design [Found: 07/24/23, Hinterwilds] (scripted suspenders, pinworn)


• slender hazelwood case spiral-bound in alexandrite ivy [Found: 09/25/23, Hinterwilds] (belt worn, medium amount)


• a set of alum floral filigree anklets set with a gleaming opaline crystal [Found: 07/01/24, Hinterwilds] (ankle worn, crystal holder, 8 charges of Bravery, rechargeable, persists)


• a marred vultite shield — Expertly crafted, this vultite shield has obviously withstood the test of time.  Deep pits and scars mar the surface of the shield and several studs along the perimeter have long since been lost, attested to by the wear where they once were placed.  The sweat stained leather straps on the back of the shield have dried and cracked in several places, though they remain usable, if only just. [Found: 08/03/24, Hinterwilds] (4x tower shield) *


• an oval-lensed jade-handled lorgnette accented with onyx teardrops [Found: 08/04/24, Hinterwilds] (T2 Lofty Lorgnette) *


• some tattered blue cotton pants patched at the knees with raw leather [Found: 08/07/24, Hinterwilds] (pants, holds 2 items up to 2 lbs.) *


• some black twill trousers laced with ivory ties [Found 08/08/24, Hinterwilds] (pants, no pockets) *


• an ale-stained white maple case (small container, 10 lbs.) [Found 08/14/24, Hinterwilds] 
  Inside: an iron-studded shagreen belt with a plain iron flask hanging from a small pouch on the side (flask, and Flask Belt) *


• a midnight blue silk shirt with a high stand-up collar — This exquisite shirt is tailored from the finest midnight blue silk, each thread shimmering with a subtle luster under any light.  The shirt's design features a high, stand-up collar that adds an elegant structure to the otherwise fluid silhouette.  Tiny, intricate silver buttons fasten the front, each engraved with the faint outline of a crescent moon.  Ideal for nocturnal gatherings or quiet evenings, this shirt combines the serene beauty of the night sky with unmatched craftsmanship. [Found 8/15/24, Hinterwilds] (shirt, no pockets) *


• a carved snow crone figurine — Carved of a pale and fine-grained wood, the figurine takes on the visage of a fearsome creature of the northern climes.  The illusion of icy claws is imparted by dried rivulets of glossy white paint draping from the ends of intricately carved upper limbs. [Found 12/7/24, Hinterwilds] (20 Charges Mystic Focus, Rechargeable) 


• some dark chocolate incense with a white wax bottom [Found 1/4/25, Hinterwilds] (Chocolate scented incense) *


• a shiny knight's helm sporting a white feather plume [Found 1/5/25, Hinterwilds] (steel helm, enchanters glyph) *


• some cerulean cornflower incense [Found 1/7/25, Hinterwilds] (Cornflower scented incense) *


• a tiny spherical pin [Found 1/15/25, Hinterwilds] (20 Charges Wizard shield, persists) *


• a cozy green cloak lined with fluffy shearling [Found 2/11/25, Hinterwilds] (cloak, holds 100 lbs.)

* found during a "feeder frenzy" run.

Creative Endeavors

Myharl has always been well skilled with his hands. Whether in martial practice, forming molten ore to gleaming blade in the forge, or expressing himself through various creative mediums. Delving into more expressive artistic platforms often lends him a sense of peace—a welcomed distraction from the rigors of battle and the weight of his curse. The following are several examples of his work created for various events and contests.

On Exhibit

a towering rime-shrouded rampant wrym ice sculpture


Wrought from magically preserved glacial ice, this sculpture depicts an immense wyrm rearing over a detailed boreal forest diorama.  It bears a maw agape with vicious fangs as its wings are outstretched in a horal pose above a miniature, tiered ziggurat.  Standing nearly as tall as three kindred, the icy scaled beast ascends from a jagged base of everfrost, the crystalized rhimar casting a wintry miasma that swirls about the statue and highlights its curvilinear design with nival traces of hoarfrost.


"Terror Beyond the Long Snow" by Myharl


Sculpture created for the 20th Solhaven Grand Art Exhibit; Ivastaen 9th-14th, 5124 M.E. (Won Frist Place, Best in Show)

Contest Entries


1. a vaalin-laced spun glass chaplet weeping a pendulous agate
2. a petite jade bijou gyved within floriated glaesine knotwork
3. a spiraled haon infinity ring traced in pellucid quartz


Three jewelry pieces created for the Jewels of the Sky Wares Contest; Fashanos 3-10, 5124 M.E. (Didn't Place)

a gold-crazed abstract painting framed in carved thrakwood


At first glance the painting seems to be a nebulous field of aural-laced verdant and crimson essence, but closer observation reveals subtle shifts in hues and tones in the mana flow that lace throughout the abstract brume to manifest an elaborately interwoven whole.  From the seeming chaos a shining golden sunburst manifests.
A small plaque affixed to the base of the painting reads, "From the Light of Many Shines One."


Painting created for the (Solhaven) Enchanting Frames Contest; Lormesta 15-30th, 5124 M.E. (Won 2nd Place) 

a pale moonlit toxicologist painting


Trimmed in a pale haon frame carved with a twisting hellebore floral design, the painting depicts a pallid, white-haired dark elf woman bedecked in the accoutrements of a skilled forager.  She kneels at the edge of a moonlit marsh near a ruined stone wall framed between a row of timeworn columns.  Holding a slender branch trimmed from a black nightshade, she is depicted carefully placing its shooting star-shaped white flowers into a vaalin-limned vasculum. 
A small plaque affixed to the base of the painting reads, "Plucking Stars from the Night in Stoneharrow Swale."


Painting created for the (Prime) In Frame Contest; Phoenatos 18-31st, 5123 M.E. (Didn't Place)

Behind the Scenes

The player of the character Myharl first discovered GemStone III in June of 1996 during summer vacation from his sophomore year of high school. He played regularly for the next eight years and was active as the game world transitioned from GS3 into GSIV. He played only one character (name intentionally redacted) before going on hiatus in 2004. After a five year absence, he returned in 2009 and began his Elanthian experience anew with the creation of Myharl whom he has played exclusively since.

Myharl's date of birth (and even the hour of his birth) are exactly the same as the player's—relative to the Elanthian calendar. Perhaps a less than creative approach, but the idea was to keep the character somewhat relevant in perspective over the years. As the player has grown with time, that often gets reflected in aspects of Myharl's persona.

An OOC Glance at Myharl

There are several underlying concepts that create the framework of the character Myharl and his progressing story. These details that aren't necessarily known by anyone (including the character himself), and most will likely never be directly approached "in-character", but they are pivotal to ongoing development of the character and understanding who he is and the general demeanor and direction of the character's story. Many aspects push the shared setting concept to its limit, but I try to keep things in the margins of (or at the very least not to directly conflict with) official lore. These details are embraced as a framework for understanding the character more than definitive character details.

OOC Contacts

I don't publicly share my contact info, and don't normally share it directly with others in GS. However, if you need to get a hold of me OOC and cannot contact me in game, I have created a stand-alone Discord account @Myharl that is only used for the Official GemStone IV Discord and for direct messages regarding GemStone IV. Feel free to DM me there or send a friend request if it's regarding the game and I'll follow up when I have time.

Questions & Answers

These Q&A originated on the Official Gemstone IV Discord, in the #roleplaying channel. Conversations that I felt relevant enough to catalog are archived in this section. I've created this section in relation to the character because I think it will be interesting to see the gradual progression of Myharl as the character develops and his story continues since each answer is relative to the perspective present on the date in which it was prompted. 


(12/07/2022) What are you looking for when it comes to roleplay in Gemstone?

(12/08/2022) What information do you put on your character's wiki page and what information, if any, do you deliberately avoid putting on there?

(12/10/2022) Without getting into basic vs premium or prime vs plat -- do you feel like your roleplay support/opportunities are a good value compared to what you pay? Do you think roleplay offers a fairly equitable experience despite the increased monetization of Gemstone?

(02/06/2023) We've discussed the tragic background story trope here a few times, so let's make that our next topic.  Do your PCs adhere to or buck the trope?  How so, and why did you make those choices?  Did you start off with that story, or did it evolve over time?

(02/06/2023) What's your PC's/NPC's relationship status?  Single, divorced, never married, throuple, it's complicated?  None of my business?  And as always, why?

(02/07/2023) Tell us about your PC's immediate family.  Are they close with their mother, father, and siblings?  How many of the latter do they have?  Are they an eldest, middle or baby in the family?  Where are they now, relative to your character?

(02/09/2023) Has your PC ever been accused, arrested, and/or convicted of a crime?  Through the justice system, in their background history, or during a story?  What were the charges, and were they innocent or guilty?  As always: why?

(02/10/2023) What questions does your character avoid answering?  Why?  Are they forthcoming, trusting, trustworthy, or introverted?  *OR UP TO SOMETHING?*  As always, why?


(02/13/2023) Are there elements of your character's nature, temperament and history that you have made changes to since you started playing them? Why did you make the change, and how painful and/or fun was it to do so?



(02/14/2023) What is your character *passionate* about?

(02/17/2023) How did you come up with your character's name?  Does it have a source in other fiction or the real world?  Or was it just a collection of syllables that worked for you?  Was it part of a family tradition?  Do they have any nicknames?

(02/17/2023) Have we had a question about how many times your characters have been married?

(02/20/2023) Does your PC have any leaders that they look up to?  Or hold as an example of what to be, or not to be?  Are they from your PC's culture, nationality, guild, circle of friends, MHO, etc?

(02/23/2023) Tell me about something your character wants.  It could be a title, a weapon, a skill, or a possession- even a goal- that's up to you.  Tell me about what they want for their future and how they'll go about getting it!

(02/24/2023) Another fun and oft-discussed topic:  What pet peeves or biases does your PC have?  Are they minor irritants like people chewing, or are they full-blown phobias about spiders?  Was this a conscious decision you made about your character, or did it come up because of an "incident"?

(02/25/2023) Do you have a song that makes you think of your character or the current state of your character?

(03/04/2023) What kind of season or weather do your characters prefer?  What do they not like?  Is it a preference or was there a specific incident or event that caused it?

(03/06/2023) If you found out today that your character is resigning/getting kicked out of their profession, what would they choose to do instead?  Or, if you could multi-class, what would you like to add to your character's abilities?  As always, why?

(03/07/2023) How old is your character, both chronologically, and culturally/racially?  Why did you choose the lifespan/birthday/age you did?

(03/08/2023) Explain to me your character's sense of style with examples.

(03/09/2023) Is there any possession, quality or ability that your character has *lost* that you still regret or miss?  Was it a choice you made, or out of your control? Or, if you don't regret it, why not?

(03/10/2023) How do people RP the aging aspects of youth and maturity for elves in Gemstone, what are some of everyones thoughts.

(03/15/2023) With so many new additions lately, where else would you like to be able to go?  And why?

(03/15/2023) Tell me about your character's pets! 

(03/21/2023) If someone was asked about one of your PCs, what do you think they would say to describe them?  What would you hope for?

(03/24/2023) Which society is your PC in and why did you choose it? If it was purely mechanical, what ways have you adapted it to fit your background?

(03/25/2023) How involved is your character in his or her guild? Is it mostly mechanical or do you incorporate guild work/status into your RP somehow?

(03/28/2023) Is there something unexpected your character came across that you never would have thought of for them yourself, but ended up being a PERFECT FIT? This could be an item, location, or event (or series of events).

(04/04/2023) What idiosyncrasies or minute details about your character manifested as part of your presentation of their persona or appearance?

(04/16/2023) Where is your character's ideal vacation spot? Why?

(05/04/2023) What makes your character so angry they lose control of their better sense? So happy they forget a bit of their dignity? So tired they ignore their obligations?

(05/08/2023) This is a new project of Alosaka’s, asking as many people as he can what they believe the most important virtue is. 

(05/09/2023) Why does your character live where they currently live?

(05/15/2023) What festival does your character wish were celebrated in their town? What would they like to see people spend a week relaxing, hustling, celebrating or fighting to honor?

(05/21/2023) Does your character have any animal or non-people friends - be it a pet, a specific familiar, an animal companion, a recurring spirit servant, a favorite mount, or a preferred demon?  What are they and what are their names?  Why did did your character (or you) pick that type specifically?  Is there a type that you really want but are missing?

(06/27/2023) What do you enjoy about / what keeps bringing you back to the character(s) you play?

(08/22/2023) What deadly sin best represents your character and why? (Lust, Glutton, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, Pride)

(09/14/2023) What would you consider the biggest difference between yourself and your character(s)?  Feel free to answer for as many of your toons as you wish- and outside of the obvious, none of us (I think) are elves or dwarves or wizards.  Are you lawful, and they're chaotic?  Are you a follower and they're a leader?

(10/12/2023) What does your character think about death - and final death?  Are they surprised when they're able to be resurrected, or are they content in the knowledge that they know how to acquire a deed from Lorminstra?  What do they believe will happen to them when they run out of deeds?  How do they reconcile any of this with entering Naidem?

(11/13/2023) Out of all the areas described in Elanthia (or outside of Elanthia, for that matter), which would your characters and you be most excited about, if it were to suddenly become accessible, to live in, or at least visit?

(11/21/2023) In a world where the wiki and old logs are at every player's fingertips, are there times where you intentionally make the decision that your character wouldn't know or remember something?  How do you approach situations like this when they come up?  Do you ever have difficulty reining in yourself when your interests or background doesn't actually align with your character's?

(11/23/2023) What is something (or a few somethings) your character is thankful for? (Feel free to be serious or silly.)

(01/12/2024) Do your characters nap? How long do they sleep? DO THEY SLEEP?

Character Progress Logs

Year-End Progress Reports (2009-2023)

This section includes the year-end data for Myharl's character progression as recorded on the night of December 31st for every year since the character's creation. This report will be updated at the end of each new year. It's not particularly useful data, but it is a fun reflection of progress made over time.

Requiem Request

While it’s certainly not a part of the plan, being involved as a part of an ongoing fantasy world that spans decades and includes multiple generations, it is inevitable that sometimes players pass away. Their characters too pass on, often leaving in their wake legends and legacies as well as heartbroken friends and loved ones. It is a morbid topic to be sure, thus my inclusion of this section at the very end of this character entry.

Over the years I’ve lost more than my fair share of old friends and great allies in the world of Elanthia. Some prepared the closure of their character’s story—others were taken unexpectedly. This section is to reflect on the potential that I, the player of Myharl, could one day meet my end before the grand stories of GemStone reach conclusion. I despise unfinished stories. And so, this section presents how I would want to envision Myharl’s stage-exit from an in-character perspective should the unfortunate unexpectedly happen.

If his story dramatically shifts, this section is maintained to express how I would desire closure to the character’s story in the present.

Contributed Logs

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