Glahnvis (prime)

Portrait created by Glahnvis' player using ChatGPT

Glahnvis Hezekai Race Sylvankind Hometown Solhaven Class Ranger Profession Druid Religion Zelia Affiliation(s) Master of the Order of Voln Greatest Strength Quick with the wit Greatest Weakness Cookies, Snakes Habits Fidgeting Hobbies Fishing, Skinning, Exploring Likes Cookies, Loot, Learning about new things Dislikes Swimming, Snakes Loyalties After some hard life lessons, “The Madness” and her crew Best Friend Condrysi, Darrgo, Dalyan, Paddye, Nightpixie

Appearance

Glahnvis, the Druid of Solhaven is a Sylvan Survivor of Caligos Isle.

He is in the meridian of life, taller than average and has a lithe, muscular physique. He has black-limned, starlight silver eyes and tanned skin, with short, tousled grey-brown hair shaved at the temples, a long face, an aquiline nose and an asymmetrical scar across his neckline.

His bottom lip is pierced with an Alhan'aht rivertear. He has a series of dark silver rings in the upper ridge of his right ear and a sigil-incised electrum sliver in his left eyebrow. His wrist is tattooed with a plaited silver knotwork design.

Backstory

Glahnvis was born on the haunted shores of Caligos Island, named for an uncle he never met, only whispered stories passed down from his mother filled in the gaps. When the fall of Ghezresh began and the island's fate crumbled into ruin, Glahnvis boarded a battered Man O' War with others desperate to flee. Amidst shrieking winds and storms summoned by divine wrath, the ship was torn apart, and Glahnvis was cast into the sea.

He washed ashore in Solhaven, alive but hollowed, lost and alone in a world he barely recognized. A night of gambling and heavy drink led to a bad bet, a brutal beating, and the loss of something more precious than coin: his memory.

When he awoke, it was far to the north, in Icemule Trace, with nothing but tattered clothes and bruises to his name. It was there, wandering dazed through the snowy streets, that he met Admiral Pixie, peddling her piercing services with her usual flair. In an impulsive act of reinvention, he marked the beginning of his new life with an Alhan'aht Rivertear piercing.

He intended to return south to Solhaven, but fate had other plans. Before he could depart, he met the warrior Xess of House Silverveil. There was something about the man's honor that struck a chord in Glahnvis, and he swore fealty as a retainer—running errands, delivering messages, and carrying out duties across Icemule, the Landing, and Solhaven. As he wandered the wild trails between towns, his thoughts often drifted to his namesake and the mother who'd told him of his uncle’s quiet strength.

It was during one such journey, cutting through frostbitten forest paths, that he realized he was being followed. A shadowy mountain wolf trailed his steps—never threatening, always watching. Eventually, the beast revealed himself as Jatalm, and the two formed an unshakable bond. The wolf became his companion, his sentinel, and his only constant as the seasons passed.

But time changed all things. House Silverveil no longer had use for Glahnvis, and with silver once again scarce, he returned to Solhaven, a druid in practice if not yet in name. He found solace in the forested edges beyond the bustling seaport, where Jatalm ranged beside him and the flora began to whisper their secrets. The more time he spent under green boughs and beside still pools, the more attuned he became. Something old stirred in his blood, calling him deeper into harmony with the wild.

Then one day, in the North Market of Solhaven, fate circled back once more.

He crossed paths with Admiral Pixie, who had made Solhaven the home port for her ship, The Madness. On a whim, she invited him aboard to see if he had his sea legs. He did—and more. When handed command of the cannons, he discovered a natural instinct for it. Every shot rang true, as if the iron spoke his language.

It didn’t take long for Pixie to offer him a place on the crew. He accepted.

Now Glahnvis serves as the Master of Irons aboard The Madness, wielding cannonfire with exquisite precision. A wolf at his side, salt in his hair, and earth in his blood, Glahnvis has carved out a life stitched together from survival, instinct, and unexpected brotherhood with his crewmates. He's guided always by the wild, and watched over ever silently by Jatalm.

Siblings - Part I

It was there aboard The Madness that Glahnvis Hezekai first felt something strange stirring in his bones, something oddly familiar, yet distant. It started the way most things aboard the ship did: with a jest and a bottle.

He had tossed it out lightly, calling Dalyan, his crewmate, his “sister from another mister,” when they both reached for the same garrote during a brawl. She laughed, loud, sharp even, but there was something brittle under it. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Glahnvis chuckled too, but the joke settled uneasily between them like sea fog that wouldn’t lift.

They were both from Caligos. Both had that quick bite of wit and a tongue sharper than broken glass. Same twitch when angry. Same stubborn scowl. Same way of slipping into shadows like it was second nature. Glahnvis had noticed it before, but it was starting to gnaw at him now. Watching her was like catching glimpses of a memory through smoked glass.

And memories… well, those were slippery things for Glahnvis. The wreck had taken a lot. He remembered fire. Screams. The sea rising where it shouldn’t. When he woke clinging to driftwood, Caligos was gone, and so was most of his past.

He tried not to think about it. But Dalyan did.

He saw her start to ask questions in dark corners of dockside towns, poking around like a hound chasing a scent. Old smugglers. Black-market document peddlers. Whispers about Caligos records long since swallowed by the sea. She was looking for something—maybe someone.

It made him nervous. Not that he had anything to hide. But he didn’t like the way her eyes lingered on him sometimes, like he was a puzzle she’d seen before but couldn’t quite solve.

Then one day, she cornered him on deck. Leaning on a cannon, bottle in her hand, fire in her voice.

“Do you remember your mother’s name?”

Glahnvis blinked. Stared out at the water like it might offer an answer. The truth sat heavy in his chest, not painful—but hollow.

“Ava... I think. It’s fuzzy. After the wreck… I just remember the name Ava.”

He saw it in her face, the shift. Something in her cracked, just for a second. That was all she said. She walked off, but not before the air between them changed. Something fragile and dangerous had stirred.

The name didn’t mean much to him. But it did to her.

He knew she never spoke kindly of her mother. Knew she left home on bad terms. What he didn’t know was whether fate had played a trick—whether blood had bound them without them ever knowing.

Her name was LaTray. His was Hezekai. Different lives. Different fathers. No proof, no certainty. And yet… the way she watched him now—like she saw something reflected in him that he couldn’t see himself—it made him wonder.

If they shared blood, he wasn’t sure what that meant. He didn’t know if it would change anything.

But if Dalyan kept digging… he knew she'd find the truth eventually.

And whatever that truth was, Glahnvis wasn’t sure she, or he, would be ready for it.