Rolen Osteroth

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Rolen’s childhood home always looked as if it were on the verge of collapse. The lean-to shack, his father’s finest gift to his mother, was in constant need of repair. Just as one warped floorboard was replaced with a new piece of lumber, a shutter would come loose, or a door would no longer shut tight. Despite this, the atmosphere was always warm and inviting, and the forest surrounding their home was vibrant and full of life. Rolen’s human father, Bredon, would build and construct to his heart’s desire; his mother, an elf named Sariel, would provide food and clothing from the animals she’d collect from her traps and snares. Rolen got along well with all his siblings growing up; aside from several forest creatures, they were his only true friends. Irven, his oldest brother, left home to start an unsuccessful farm near a small village, though the poor bloke seems to always need some coin. Fivin, the youngest of the Osteroth clan, left home to pursue his own career as a landscaper in an up-and-coming town to the south. Rolen’s twin sister, Regan, whom always had a bit of a *dark* side, left home and joined an acting troupe that travels the country side, performing wherever they can pocket some coin. Rolen, on the other hand, always preferred the sanctity of the woods, and the solitude they provided. As rare as passerby’s might have been growing up, he would hide as his family would engage the occasional traveler whom stumbled upon their home; he much rather preferred the company of the forest creatures and their simple, non-materialistic lives. His outlook on life made Rolen the man he is today.

Rolen spent many nights alone in the forest. At first, this troubled his family, but the more it happened the more accustomed they became to it, to the point where it became rare if Rolen spent a night in the house. Even then, Rolen didn’t understand his true calling until he came upon a very unusual circumstance. One night, while exploring an unfamiliar part of the forest, the young half-elf came upon a strange, glowing sigil carved into a boulder. He had never seen anything like it before, but like any curious lad he reached out and touched it; he could never have been prepared for what happened next, for the forest that provided food, shelter, and a sense of security suddenly vanished – and his surroundings were like nothing he had ever seen before! Most anyone else would recognize the tell-tale signs of a city if they were presented with them, but buildings of stone, with lights, chatter, and otherwise innocuous noises were (are) a foreign, nearly alien experience to a child of the forest, and he reacted as one would expect: he freaked the frell out.

After the initial shock, and uncomfortable confrontations with a few townsfolk, Rolen fled. Using the night stars to guide his path, he eventually found his way home, but this ordeal changed him forever. This experience, though terrifying, informed Rolen that the world can be manipulated through non-practical means. Although he had always sensed that nature had some sort of mystical *force* to it, understanding and controlling it always seemed like imagination gone awry; he now realized that this wasn’t the case. He embraced this new knowledge and allowed it to shape him into the man he is today. While experimenting, Rolen determined that not only does every living thing affect these “forces,” they’re part of it, whether they choose to be. This includes plants, animals, other people – he resigned his fear of “outsiders” realizing that literally everything is just smaller parts of a whole, that everything must be “in tune” for life to thrive, for the world to live. Shades of his sister creep in as he also realizes that not everyone is meant to help the world, and he understands her a bit more even if he doesn’t approve of her methods.

Now, fully embracing nature and everything that comes with it, Rolen has learned to manipulate the forces to his own designs. He keeps a small, uncut, jade crystal, a trinket he found while trying to find his way home, as a memento and reminder. It’s worth nothing to a collector, but worth everything to him.