Player: Michael Busch
PC: Anethilzair Mykispar (Mike)
Status: Monk 1

You have told me much of the flocks of Xen’drik, and I feel I owe you a story in turn. I will tell you of myself. You will think me strange for a member of our race, but I am used to that.

I was raised in the Mykispar monastery, on top of a ridge in western Cyre. I did not know my parents; they left my egg in the monastery nursery. With the other fledglings, I tended the gardens and learned from our masters.

We were not much affected by the war. No one who could not fly was allowed past the walls, save for glidings leaving for the Walk. The hunters reported bodies and battles and a shortage of game. Once, a battalion of infantry tried to occupy the ridgeline. They were persuaded to leave when one of the masters went out at night and knocked all of their sentries unconscious.

There was one other effect of the war. Two glidings were found by the hunters, cut down only a day into their Walk. When the time came for me to Walk, I climbed to the highest point of the monastery and looked in all directions. There was smoke and flame and moving groups in all directions, except to the west. So I walked in that direction.

A day into my Walk, the monastery was small on the horizon behind me. I ate sparingly and started to make a nest for the night. Then there was a sound of thunder. I turned and there was a wall of mist less than a mile from where I stood.

For a week, I sat there, debating if I should try to return, risking the unknown. Then, at dawn, there was a break in the mist, which lasted for several minutes. I saw the monastery: it and the surrounding territory were either burning or burnt. Even the stone of the outer walls seemed to have melted and flowed. The scorched land stopped just before the mist. No fledglings could have survived. Some of the masters might have, but I saw no-one, though I sat there another week, this time debating if I should stay or leave. The mist did not part again.

Eventually, I left. I kept walking westward: through the Marguul Pass, along the northern side of the Howling Peaks. I hunted wild boar when I could, ate bread from the hospitality of villagers, and eventually came to Wroat. There I heard that others of our species came to Sharn on occasion. I only knew of settlements that had been inside the boundaries of the Mournland, so I turned south. I arrived here six months ago. The towers are wonderful and I am learning to fly by jumping off of them and dodging the bridges.

For the last several months, I have been traveling with a group of adventurers. They are a strange bunch, but are most amusing and instructive. If you wish, I will tell you of our journeys.

The above is a transcript of a conversation on the top of one of the towers of Sharn, between Mike and a raptoran skypledged visitor to the city. It was spoken in Tuilvilanuue and illustrates the raptoran tendency to be verbose among themselves.

Player’s Notes:

I plan to play the Book of Exalted Deeds with this character, in particular with regards to voluntary poverty. Consequently, we have a monk, with the implied specialty in unarmed combat, and a backstory heavy on survival with minimal equipment and asceticism. I will probably have him take levels in kensai eventually, although the XP for six natural weapons (hands, feet, wing-claws) is relatively high. For the kensai’s oath of service, I’m thinking of having him join an order dedicated to Dol Arrah, although there is option for him to swear loyalty to a cause, which might better fit with his past.

From a role-playing perspective, I can’t have Mike keep an adventure journal, because raptorans don’t generally write things down (it being easier to remember your map, directions, and shopping list than to carry them while flying). Hence the device of him having a conversation with another of his species. Fortunately, I can keep notes of all the things he is supposed to remember.


  • Str: 14
  • Dex: 12
  • Con: 12
  • Int: 10
  • Wis: 14
  • Cha: 10