Kayse (prime)

Kayse Thaellian Kayse Thaellian portrayed by Tisket. Race Aelotoi Culture Vaer'sah Profession Rogue Affiliation(s) Beacon Hall Archive, Black Hand Trading Co, Elanthian Elegance

Kayse Thaellian is an aelotoi rogue that hails from River's Rest and dabbles in a number of different hobbies. The aelotoi loves fashion and is a member of Elanthian Elegance, where she has given many lectures on fashion and culture. She has competed in Bardfest three times becoming a two time Champion and placed 4th one year as well. She has also won 1st place awards during Ebon Gate for her scary tales. Besides performing and writing tales, Kayse manages the events and history for Beacon Hall Archive, where she is the Curator. Due to her history in River's Rest, Kayse is deeply involved as Negotiator in the Black Hand Trading Co, a mercantile company that buys and sells goods.

Kayse is currently residing in Wehnimer's Landing and Icemule Trace.

Appearance

You see Kayse Thaellian the Botanist.
She appears to be an Aelotoi of the Vaer'sah Clan.
She is moderately tall and has a curvaceous figure. She appears to be young. She has voluminously lashed, viridian-specked pear green eyes and freckle-dusted, smooth olive skin. She has long, lustrous mournbloom black hair tightly upswept into a flawless rounded bun, her head wrapped in a raw silk headband painted with ivory heather blossoms which reveals straight bangs that touch just above her eyebrows. She has strong and toned features, yet still possesses alluring feminine qualities enhanced by her soft full blush-hued lips. She has a pair of oval niveous-veined sparkling champagne wings.
She has a multi-colored ink splotched lily on her arm, an inked vine laden with blossoms on her waist, a primitively inked white jagged heart on her finger, and a trio of flowers tattoo on her wrist.
She is in good shape.
She is holding a small violet in her right hand.
She is wearing a pale carved sephwir lily suspended on an ivy vine choker, a shoulder-clasped vanilla leather jacket cropped beneath the bust, a dusky rose damask corset with ruched silk bustline over a single-sleeved ivory ramie silk blouse, a sephwir and willow entwined band, a cherrywood oval vanity case, some tight chocolate suede leggings that sit low on the hips, and a pair of tall black boots slightly raised on ebonwood heels.

Background

Return to Sunder

During the Return to Sunder storyline, ithzir invaded the landing, they probed Kayse's mind and resurfaced a painful memory from her past. Based on this, the events in this storyline contributed to her greatly feeling responsible for Rodnay and began their friendship when she gave him a sprig of lavender that reminds him of his mother.

Eyes of the Dawn

Kayse experienced visions sent by her patron Aeia during the Eyes of the Dawn story line (logs on linked storyline page). Her and a small group of adventurers were able to defend the Aeia shrine in the citadel in River's Rest--the first shrine to save any innocents from Chaston's slaughtering. She was also present for the fall of Talador.

The Call for Unity is Born

On a crisp white parchment hastily written in common in an elegant scripted penmanship:

To the citizens of Wehnimer's Landing, to our neighbors of Icemule and Solhaven, to those over the Dragon Spine in the Elven Nations, to the Isles of River's Rest and Teras....heed our call:

We gathered as a collective to express our opinions of Chaston and the Blameless the other evening when another religious group was slaughtered. The common theme in our discussion was unity and standing together. Now is the time to do so.

Tonight a group of us met to discuss a starting point to move forward on a plan of action. I am calling on everyone again to attend a mass prayer to reach out to our patrons in an interfaith service. It will happen in the small park located in Wehnimer's Landing on Tilamaires the 26th of Koaratos. We will gather at approximately 11:30pm elven. 

Bring your idols, your prayer-beads, your meditation mats. However you wish to communicate to your Lord or Lady or honor them is your choosing and right, but most importantly bring your voice.

Everyone is welcome; no, everyone is needed: citizens, Militia men and woman, Knights, even the Rooks. We all have stake in this struggle. 

From Eorgina to Kai. From Aeia to Zelia. From Imaera to Mularos. We will come together as one voice to ask for guidance and assistance to our patrons against Chaston. 

Written by my hand,
Kayse Thaellian

Homecoming

Small goosebumps formed on her sun-kissed skin as she walked down the gangplank of the small cutter, her eyes squinting through the sunbeams of the rose gold-hued morning light spilling through the treetops.  The air was cold and brisk which was unusual for the typical humid climate of the island town but it was still dawn--and the vegetation was riddled in a morning dew, which hinted at storms from the night before.  

Throwing her leather jacket around her shoulders, she took a deep breath inhaling the familiar smells of home.  Along with the rain-washed florals, the tanginess of the sea spray from the voyage lingered on her lips, a gentle smile painted her face as she re-adjusted her case on her shoulder and headed toward town.

She was hoping Cotuil was on her break for the morning.  As much as she enjoyed her conversations with the reiver, she had plans to attend to and idle small talk and complaints about Byron were not in her agenda.  As she approached the drawbridge, an audible sigh of relief exhaled out of her body, as Cotuil was nowhere to be seen.  

Another smile graced her lips, this time one filled with excitement.   A certain giddiness arose in her whenever she approached the main drawbridge into town.  The beams laid for that bridge had so much meaning to her.  They were the first and last thing she saw when entering or leaving home.  Of course, they also meant more to her as a native, the bridge Estamil built--the two lovers.  Reaching down, she rested a gloved hand on her vanity case, remembering that she must also visit the point and leave the stock pile of green tourmalines she had been saving. 

Her pace quickened, her heart beating a little harder against her chest as she approached the dirt path leading into the center of town.  Her feet were carrying her faster now as she found herself running before she stopped at the edge of the path, her eyes settling on a figure in the distance.  She stepped out into the clearing of the commons, the morning sun now higher in the sky and beginning to paint the rich green grass.  She cautiously approached the dark shape in the shadows.    

The sun warmed her body as she crossed the commons and she paused to take in the warmth a moment.  Stretching her wings out, the sun flickered through the iridescent champagne film of them, causing the membrane of the wings to sparkle in the light.  Stepping back into the shade, her eyes settled on the figure and flashed it a soft smile of recognition.

She whispered, but her tone was warm and inviting, “I am home, keh’nira fyr.”

Her native language still rolled off her tongue with ease, despite hardly using it anymore.  It felt natural to use it for things that held deep meaning to her, especially Rowmi.  Reaching outward she laid a palm on the bark of the willow tree, a small breeze lifted the branches that draped around her and she closed her eyes for a moment. 

She sat with the willow for the better part of the morning, her notebook spread across her lap as her quill moved lazily across the cream vellum, her back pressed firmly against the tree.  She was not really in the mood to write, but it provided something to do as she glanced around the commons, taking in the details of the land and people.  Leaning forward to rise, her mournbloom hair caught against the tree’s bark and she grinned widely as she glanced over her shoulder. 

“Fyr, I know you do not want me to go, but I must go do what I came here to do,” her tone playful as she tucked away her supplies into her case.  

Proceeding down the cobblestone walkway, she decided to take the longer route to where she was going next.  A part of her was still apprehensive about why she had traveled home.  Turning her gaze downward, she walked slowly--lost in her thoughts, her hand rising up to grasp the sephwir carved lily around her neck.  

Finding herself at the forested path to the cleric’s guild, she approached the now heavily guarded main entrance.  It had been months since she stood at this gate and had made plans with the guild and the town to protect any citizens who needed it from the Blameless. Removing another letter from the inside of her jacket pocket, she handed the envelope to one of the guards who nodded in recognition of her presence.  She brought good news, but still wore a heavy heart from the events that took place to claim it, but she kept her expression impassive.

The guard broke the mulberry wax seal, his clouded grey eyes darting back and forth as he perused the letter.  His eyes lightened as he glanced up at her, the small group of men around him curiously wondering what was enclosed.

“It is true then?”  The man’s voice suddenly cracked, pausing a moment to collect himself before continuing, “Chaston is dead?...Talador is...gone?”

The other guards gasped and looked around, a mix of expressions on their faces.  Inclining her head, the aelotoi nodded once to the man.

She locked her gaze on the one guard, his eyes were now glossy and the emotion threw her off.  Her brow furrowed for a moment before she caught herself and in a measured and almost rehearsed voice she said, “The level of protection the shrines needed is no more.  We may worship our patrons in peace once again.” 

The man nodded solemnly as he breathlessly said, “My sister and mother--”  His voice drifted off but she knew what he was going to say next.  Another guard approached the grey-eyed man and escorted him within the gated entrance, reassuring her that the word would be spread.

Nodding firmly she turned north, an arch of trees beckoning her to approach.  She felt reluctant, but didn’t know why, for she knew she had to enter.

With careful steps, she quietly made her way into the groove where the shrine of Aeia laid untouched, but heavily surrounded by local militia.

One of the members stepped forward saying, “We’ll give you a few moments.”

She could only nod at this point, knowing that by the end of the day, there would be no need to not feel safe in the town anymore.

The militia cleared out and she approached the altar, her own green eyes meeting that of the green eyes of the statue of her lady.    She awkwardly bowed to the shrine and kneeled, her movements not seeming as fluid as they do when it comes to swinging a dagger or writing a story.  This was still unfamiliar territory to her.

Fumbling with the clasps of her vanity case, she began searching through the pockets, a bit of anxiousness overcoming her as she cannot find what she needs.

She chuckled to herself as she thought, “Why are you so nervous?”

Taking a deep breath, she slowly exhaled, before locating the single green sapphire she was searching for.  Cradling the gem between her two hands, she sat quietly, the mild scent of earthiness and calla lilies filling the area.  Her brow furrowed in thought as to how to proceed next.

“Aeia…” her voice was hesitant and unsure, not a typical characteristic.

“Get it together, Kayse, “  she snapped at herself.  She opened her mouth but the words failed her, something else she wasn’t accustomed to.

She had seen Aeia’s power at work, so why was this difficult for her?  There were legends and stories, but Aeia’s strength, guidance, and love of her patrons had been witnessed first hand by Kayse.  The visions, the defending of the garden shrine….

Kayse’s thoughts raced in her head.  Images of that night--united comrades,  the moonlight bathing the blameless in a white glow, the coppery smell of blood spilled throughout the flora of the shrine.

Her hand squeezed tightly around the sapphire, although they had been successful and defended the shrine, the thought of Chaston and the Blameless still angered her.

Her thoughts changed to Talador.  The dissolute land...bodies of children and innocents piled upon each other...the bodies of the enemies motionless and melting away.   

She glanced away quickly, her eyes finally giving away the pain she felt inside.

She murmured, “So much has happened this year…”  A few tears fell from her eyes, she lifted her head slightly to the statue before continuing in a more confident tone.  “...You have surpassed the tales of your greatness and protected your people and town.  I am eternally grateful and I am in your service.  Meril.”

Leaning forward, Kayse placed the sapphire on the altar, a gentle breeze beginning to rustle the leaves of the trees in the canopy above her.  “The new perspective you have given me has been…”  She shook her head slowly searching for a word, before a warm smile curled over her lips, “...astonishing.”

As she pulled her hand away, the sapphire gave off an illuminated green glow and had not vanished as it typically does.  The gem had transformed from its double pyramid shape to a spherical one and now took on a hue of a deeper more vibrant green.  Running a gentle hand over the gem, she placed it delicately in her case as she whispered to the altar, “Thank you.”

It was dusk before she decided to catch the cutter back to the mainland, after four winterberry ales and catching up with Cotuil at the Stone Eye. The drawbridge was now bathed in a purple haze as the sun set over Maelstrom Bay.

Kayse paused.  Her pear green eyes roamed over the bridge, her gaze filled with longing.  She remembered the first time her eyes had seen the bridge--when she was new to town only nine years ago.  She had experienced so much yet seen so very little at the same time.  River’s Rest had moulded the woman she had become in just those nine short years, yet in just a few months Wehnimer’s Landing had crafted her into someone she never thought she would become.  A half-smile formed over her lips, wistful at first, but as she turned to head in the direction of the cutter, a feeling of peace set over her.

Keeping up with the Kestrels

From the moment the Kestrels showed up in Wehnimer's Kayse was suspicious of them--especially of Naimorai Kestrel. Digging into her spy routes, Kayse did a bit of espionage and kept a careful log of the events as well as her thoughts.

Hero

The candlelight flickered and danced about the tonal silk walls of the bungalow, the ivory color turning a brilliant orange hue.  The sound of a quill hastily scratching against a piece of vellum blended with the slow, soft breathing of someone deeply asleep.  Setting the quill down, an inked covered hand picked up the notebook, a pair of pear green eyes analyzing the notes that were just written.

The first thought was about the penmanship, she had been taught and practiced her script better than what was written.  It seemed jumbled and not neat, ink smudges decorated the page with haphazard notes sketched between.  Her brow furrowed in disappointment, her mood was reflected in her writing. 

From a dark corner of the room, there was a change in the breathing a moment and some movement of fabric.  Her eyes darted across the room as she made contact with the edge of a bed that was barely visible by the candlelight.  The movement ceased and the breathing began again followed by a gentle snore.  

Kayse’s lips instantly grinned and she caressed the locket around her neck, which resonated with her touch.  Turning her attention back towards the notebook’s page, she studied the actual words this time.  

She paused at the name Naimorai and her features molded into a frown.  Her mind raced back to this evening with Dennet.  She knew she was assuming that the Magister’s daughter was plotting something, but with the evidence Rowmi provided when touching Naimorai’s mind--how could she not be?  Kayse knew she had more work to do, but what if she was wrong?  Was piece of mind better than not knowing?  

A question weighed on her mind heavily.  What is right?  She told Goblyn on the porch that she didn’t care for Dennet, but did he deserve to die?  It seemed the right thing to do--preventing it and being prepared.  Maybe he wasn’t even the target.  

Her thought was interrupted by a sleepy voice from the darkness, “Amin, I want to be a turnip farmer.  Let us be farmers.”

Kayse blinked and flashed a grin to the darkness, “You want to be a turnip farmer.  Is that what you wish, Rowmi?”

There was a long pause before the response from the darkness said, “It is not the right time of year.”

Kayse stifled a laugh as she muttered, “I see.”  The soft snoring picked up again almost immediately.     

She sighed heavily, picked up the quill and wrote in smooth elegant flourishes then drew three sharp lines.  Tossing the quill on her desk, she stood up and blew out the candle, heading to the direction of the bed.

The darkness settled and the moonlight illuminated the page through the window.  Written at the bottom of the page in beautifully scripted common were the words, “You are not a hero” as three lines underlined the word, “not.”

Imperials

She paced across the floor of her bungalow, the wooden floors creaking underneath her bare feet as she took slow measured steps.  Dappled sunlight trickled in through the window and illuminated the closed ivory envelope on her desk.  From across the room, her bright eyes darted back to the desk, eyeing the letter she had just wrote.

Growing up in the Rest, she had been taught that Imperials were the enemy.   Despite having different beliefs and duties, did any of them deserve to die?  A wry grin escaped her lips, there’s some River Rats who would say yes to that.

She paused to glance out the window and the grin faded.  Chewing her lip, her face was painted with perplexity as her eyes shifted back to her desk.  A cloth-bound notebook laid open next to the envelope, names haphazardly written along the page with arrows and lines being connected to each other. 

There was still so many what ifs.  Carenos *thinks* he shot Cyph--what if the humanoid figure wasn’t Cyph?  The scarred man seemed so confident.  If Cyph did kill Carenos’ daughters, Carenos deserved revenge--in her mind.  Something just seemed off and she has always trusted her sixth sense.

Moving to the desk, she reached for the quill and jotted down a quick note on the page, before throwing the quill back down.  Her wings folded sharply against her back as she twisted her mournbloom hair up into a messy bun, her gaze perusing the page where she just wrote.  

Why should she help?  What did she have to gain?  Who am I to get in the way?

Glancing down, she idly traced her fingertips over the small black vial.  Carenos knows someone took the vial from him.  It was only a matter of time till he found out who.

She snatched the notebook, vial, and envelope up and slid them into her bag.  Slipping her boots on, she moved swiftly out the door.

Transparency

Upon closer examination, the mulberry wax is stamped with a series of vines surrounding a single lily--inside is a single parchment of matching ivory vellum. Written with a practiced hand in common, the penmanship is neat and slanted.

Dennet,

You complained that the citizens of the Landing and those that occupy this area, were not being transparent about our actions and questions regarding your family. I hope that when we come forward with queries we are returned with the same candor. 

With that said, I have heard rumors ::the word is underlined three times:: that Cyph is...under the weather or possibly injured? I might be able to help.


By my hand,
Kayse Thaellian

Details

The square bustled with the typical business of the late evening.  The candles burned brightly in the street lamps, the flickering vaguely illuminating an empath hovering over a wounded human.  A pair of pear green eyes shifted to the human, whose hand was covered in blood from applying pressure to the wound.  The substance barely had a color to it because of the darkness, but the faint coppery smell and sheen in the moonlight gave clue to what it was.  Her ears perked as she heard a shuffling from the west--clothing against dirt and cobblestone--then a scrambling of feet.  A halfling emerged from the direction of the bank panting heavily,  a large arm draped over its shoulder as the body of a giantman appeared behind the winded hobbit.  She quirked an eyebrow as a smirk curled upon her face at the sight.

Paying attention to details was always a game to her--a test even, but lately every action was over analyzed and thought over in meticulous detail.  Her facial features relaxed, but her bright, yet calculating eyes continued to survey the area.  Since the arrival of the Kestrel family to Wehnimer’s Landing, she had felt on edge.  She was never one to trust new people at the ready, but something about the family made them even more suspect.  

A figure approached the square and stood near the oak tree, the silver streaks of the moon reflecting briefly on her raven black hair.  It took Kayse’s own eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, but a quick grin flashed along her lips as her face lit up in recognition of Shinann. Kayse regarded her for a moment from the shadows.  Over the past month or so, the Captain and her had spoke at great detail about the happenings in the town.  It felt good to begin trusting someone else besides Rowmi, but it made her feel vulnerable and she felt even more on guard.

Stepping out into the street light, Shinann caught a glimpse of Kayse and nodded affably in her direction.  A warm smile painted Kayse’s lips as she nodded back.  It was nice to have a new friend--though even Goblyn had remarked the militia captain and herself had seemed quite the unlikely pair.  Perhaps that is why it worked.

The Shinann leaned in and whispered to Kayse and in response the aelotoi cocked her head in the half-elf’s direction.

In a matched whispered tone, Kayse answered, “I see.  We do have much to catch up on then.”   

They both nodded in sync, their figures disappearing into the darkness as they walked off towards the Hendoran Outpost.

Desperate Attempts

Leaning over her notebook, a pair of pear green eyes skims over the contents of the inked page. The seagull feather quill moves with a flourish as Kayse signs her name at the bottom of the letter and gives a brief nod of satisfaction. Tearing the page out from the spine of the notebook, she quickly rolls the parchment up and slips it into an empty bottle of rum. 

"This has to be one of your more desperate attempts to get information," she thought to herself. Sighing heavily, she slipped out the door of her bungalow and headed towards the docks.

Captain Jellybeard,

When we crossed paths in River's Rest for Tick--Picklefest last month, you spoke of an arbiter who has been paying Rooks to join the Bayrunners. I assist in running a mercantile company out of Wehnimer's and I am hoping to expand our business to the South. I was curious if you had met this arbiter and if you could introduce me and perhaps my fellow associates. As a thank you, I would be more than happy to give you a percentage of the profits of our goods we would be moving in that direction. I feel this partnership could be rather favorable for us all.

Please let me know if you would like to arrange a meeting.

Written by my hand,

Kayse Thaellian, Negotiator for the Black Hand Trading Company

Stories & Tales

Below are a few links to Kayse's written work and performances.

5117 Bardfest SEMIS Piece: With Love and Flowers

5116 Bardfest SEMIS Piece: The Star Collector

5115 Bardfest FINALS Piece (1st place): Fleet Captain's story

5115 Bardfest SEMIS Piece: Winterberry Tale

5115 Ebon Gate Scary Story Contest (1st place): The Story of the Beacon Hall Archive Ghost

5115 Ebon Gate Costume Contest (3rd place): Cotuil's Song