Character Background: Jentrana Dakrio

 

The character known as Jentrana, was in actuality born as Lyari, the second daughter and fourth child of the prominent Kieredar family, headed by Sarmaris. Sarmaris was a politician, who always made sure to put forth a good and honest face, though behind closed doors few knew what he was up to in actuality. 

 

Her mother, Trisbella, was a gifted painter, though had not had an easy pregnancy. The midwife expected the birth would not be easy due to this, and warned Trisbella of this. Over the course of the last trimester, Trisbella grew lackluster, hardly smiling or lifting a brush to paint as she was wont to do, though no malady could be found. 

 

When Lyari was born, there was some shock, as the child looked decidedly different than her siblings had when they were born. This fact was kept Sarmaris as long as could be managed, as no one was sure how he would handle a child that was…well, deformed, in their eyes. When he did come home finally from business that had kept him away, he held the child for but a moment, before passing the child off to the midwife in disgust. 

 

“Take it from my sight,” he had said. “And let me not set eyes on it again until I have decided what to do with it.”

He spent some time deliberating on that to do. Trisbella seemed not to have an interest in caring for the child, and care for it fell into the hands of a wet nurse in the interim. It presented a dilemma to him, and one that potentially risked greater plans. It had been widely known and observes that Trisbella were with child, so he could not pass that off as a rumor, but neither could he let the child be seen. Passing the child off to another family was simply out of the question since he could not guarantee that they wouldn’t talk. Keeping the child hidden was also out of the question, as he knew that children were wont to disobey and escape their minders. 

 

It took a full week’s time, but he made the decision, though waited an appropriate time to inform household and any others who asked. The story told ‘round went thusly: the child Trisbella carried had been born lifeless. He had heard word of a small human family some distance away. They were unable to care for yet another child and were begging for someone to take the child in so it wouldn’t die. Knowing the pain his wife was suffering through at having lost a child, he graciously offered to take in the human infant for his wife to raise. 

 

The story had the desired effect of boosting his public image, and nothing more was said of the mater. In public, he treated Lyari no differently than his other children. In private, he would have nothing to do with her and had made a household rule that she was never to be in his presence. Sometime later, Trisbella would make the same demand of the household staff. Lyari grew up largely not knowing her parents beyond their names and what people thought of them; rarely having glimpsed them. 

 

Her elder siblings were much older than she, and while she did not see them often, she did see and get to know them, to some extent. Daemaris was the eldest child, a son to honor the family lineage. He was not keen to follow politics, however, he trained hard and well and became a soldier of some note. Eledan was the second son, only a few years younger than Daemaris, with a keener mind and an inclination to learn. He narrowed his studies down eventually, having found a certain fascination with astronomy and cosmology. Arastina was a decade younger still, though with a mind just as keen. She seemed to prefer doing general research, on any manner of subjects, from any who asked her, eventually finding work as a librarian. Lyari was quite a few years younger than her sister. All her elder siblings treated her with the same casual cordiality they reserved for anyone of the general public; none thought much of her. 

 

The birth of Tranelis followed Lyari just a couple of short years later. There was concern between her parents that this child might also be an anomaly. They were delighted, however, to learn that Tranelis was a perfectly normal elven child. It was, perhaps because of Lyari’s anomaly that he grew up quite spoiled. How and why he got turned on to alchemy was anyone’s guess, but there was no doubt he was quite adept.

 

When Lyari’s body had matured to the point she could conceivably bear children, her parents had decided that that was enough of the charade and began looking into opportunities to offload her so that they no longer had to deal with her. Fortunately for Sarmaris, a good political move fell into his lap when a human man by the name of Harden Foscolde came seeking an alliance that could greatly benefit them both. Harden was an older human, not quite in his thirties. He wanted something from Sarmaris, though no one other than the two of them ever really knew what. Sarmaris did what he did best…hemmed and hawed and hedged his bets until things fell into a most favorable position. When that happened, he sighed and relented, a move designed to make the human feel as though he had come out with the better end of the bargain. As a bonus, he would receive Sarmaris’ precious younger daughter as a wife, to aid him in birthing an heir, an act his first two wives (may they rest in peace) failed to do.

 

Lyari’s married life was not much better than her previous one. She was drilled on how to act when in public, something she was already used to. As such, Harden had very little room to complain about her behavior. When she was home, she was subject to his whims, and when he was not, she was subjected to her mother-in-law. She was unused to seeing anyone truly old, as this woman was. She was gray-haired and wrinkled and made no secret of the fact she didn’t think Lyari was worthy of her son, while simultaneously declaring she had better hope she gave birth to a son someday. 

 

The woman, whose name was Emelyne, was a taskmaster who put Lyari to work doing things she thought all wives should be capable of. In later years, Lyari would look back, and though she still disliked Emelyne very much, she did thank her for teaching her basic skills, such as cooking and sewing. Harden and Lyari had not been married long when she became pregnant. Harden boasted to his friends and associates that he had finally gotten lucky and landed a fertile wife – evidently, the previous two had been barren, or so she had been led to believe. Emelyne’s warnings about producing a son would become more frequent, and occasionally more dire sounding, as the months went on. 

 

When she did go into labor, she was expecting to have a midwife. Instead, she got Emelyne, who refused to listen to her pleas for a midwife. She had never rightly been able to figure out just how long her labor lasted, but her memory told her it seemed quite long, and there were many pains. She was coached only marginally. More frequently, she was told to quiet her cries or the child would grow to be worthless, reminded that she had best pray for a son, or chastised (your hips must be too small to do this properly!). In the early morning hours, after the sun rose and she felt like her energy was completely spent, Lyari birthed a son. 

 

Emelyne would let out a cackle of delight, she remembered, and Harden was most pleased with his son, whom they named Kastor. They let Lyari sleep and recover, and though she often asked to see her son, they would only allow it when it was time for him to be nursed. She loved her son dearly, and would make any believable excuse she could to keep him as long as it was believable during her recovery. When it had been decided that she was suitably recovered enough to not be on bed rest, things went back to normal as far as her duties to the household went, though she were still only permitted to see her son when he needed to be nursed. Things changed for the worse for her when her son was six months old. No longer was he brought to her. No matter how much she begged, she was refused. After a fortnight of consistent begging, she was forcibly removed from the home with a dire warning: “Do not seek us out, or when next we meet, you will swiftly meet your death.”

 

The next few months were hard. Food was scarce, and she’d had to resort to begging more than once, with mixed results. Harassment was high, and mostly from people who had been paid to do so by her husband, in an effort to get her to leave the area.  As soon as she was able, she moved on. The place she found herself now, the third settlement since her birth, was larger, and she wasn’t sure how to get by. Fortunately, she soon met and befriended Alanar. He’d had to resort to thievery at a young age, and so knew the city streets in and out. He helped her find the means to eat and started teaching her some skills so she could get by in a world harsher than what she had been used to. 

 

They were both teenagers at the time, but one day, on a lark, they decided to hunt up a bounty and managed to succeed. Surprised at their luck, they tried again, gradually moving toward harder bounties. It was after their third or fourth success that they used some of their newfound fortunes to celebrate at a local tavern. Lyari was not overly fond of the drink that was offered, though Alanar was enthused, and drank himself into a stupor. After he got to a drunken state, he would occasionally go off on tangents, then abruptly try to start flirting with the barmaid, and later, herself. When he began to get too amorous for her liking, a trait she hadn’t seen in him before, a dark hand reached down and pulled him away from her.

 

“Haven’t you had enough?” the man asked. 

 

Alanor p’shawed at him and waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Lya doesn’t mind, do you Lya?”

 

Lyari smiled, though it was clear she was uncomfortable. The other man hefted Alanor over a shoulder. “The friend you’ve spoken so highly of seems not to want your company right now.”

 

“Aww…Isar…you’re…” he hiccupped “…no fun.” 

 

Isar simply patted his friend on the back and paid for a room where Alanor could sleep off the drink before carrying him upstairs and dumping him unceremoniously onto the bed, then returned downstairs. When he returned downstairs, he apologized for Alanor’s behavior and introduced himself. His name was Isar, and he’d only gotten back to town recently, which is why she hadn’t met him before now. She found him easy to talk to, and they spent the night in conversation until she grew too tired. 

 

In the morning, Alanor apologized profusely for his behavior, but she forgave him easily. She rather liked Alanor, and was more than willing to give him another chance, though maintained that if he were going to drink to that extent again, she’d keep far from him, and he acquiesced. Isar offered to help teach her in some areas beyond what Alanor could, and eventually she was able to take on better-paying bounties, increasingly on her own.

 

Over time, she and Isar grew closer together, their relationship deepening to something more intimate, and eventually into romance. While Alanor was the first to treat her with consistent kindness and thoughtfulness, Isar was the first to show her what it was like to be truly loved. He came to know her story, and would occasionally growl and swear to get revenge on her behalf. When he did this, she worried that something might happen to him, and so would gently ask him not to worry about it – that she had learned to put her past behind her. He would typically lament how she didn’t trust in his skills (he was trained in assassination, after all), but she learned it was a ruse, and eventually just learned to placate him. 

 

In return, she came to learn of the hardships he faced being a dark-skinned elf, and would periodically assure him that his race did not matter to her; that she cared less about his looks (though she typically paused to remind him that she did think him rather handsome) and more about how he treated her, how he felt about her. They both had insecurities to overcome, but when they did, that’s when the romance began to truly blossom. 

 

There came a time, a good five years after they first met, that he was to leave for a job. This was nothing unusual in and of itself. What was unusual is that he refused to mention any of the details of the job, when usually he might let slip a thing or two. This caused her no small amount of anxiety, and when he kissed her goodbye before leaving, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder if it were for the last time. 

 

She continued to work, alone, or with Alanor on occasion. It wasn’t unusual to not hear from Isar for weeks or even a few months at a time, but after twice the average amount of time had passed, she began to worry. It became harder to focus on her work, and she more frequently relied on Alanor’s aid. There was one instance when, after several seasons, she went into near hysterics from having not heard from him – nor anything about him. Alanor, at a loss, slapped her. She reacted with shock. 

 

“Hey, hey Lyari…I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what else to do. You were freaking out so bad…” he said, trying to weasel his way out of a brief fistfight that he was sure was headed his way. 

 

“No…it’s fine. I…I needed that.” she said, rubbing her cheek where she had been slapped. She hadn’t lied though – it had helped her. “Tell me …how long has it been since we last heard from him?”

 

Alanor scratched the back of his head as he thought. “I want to say a bit over a year.”

 

“Have you heard anything? Know anything of where he was going?”

 

“No…but I can try and find out.” he promised. 

 

She nodded. “Please?”

 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I help my best friends?” he said, giving that rakish grin of his. He got serious after a minute. “Look… you have to realize that if the worst has happened, he’d want you to move on. Try not to worry and do that.”

 

She nodded. “Yea. There’s a bounty I’ve been meaning to take up. Maybe I’ll do that.”

 

“Igva?” she responded with a nod. “Just be careful. I hear that one’s vicious.”

 

The morning after their talk, she gathered supplies, and they made a promise to keep in touch with one another, using a pet bird of Alanor’s as a messenger. Igva proved to be a longer hunt than most, with the trail a bloody one. When they met, there was no talk of bringing her in. No, this bounty would have to be collected dead. They fought long and hard, with Igva fighting savage and dirty, wounding Lyari badly in the process. Though she did not like to do so, Lyari fled, unwilling to die this day. 

 

Eventually, she was able to lose Igva and hid in a small abandoned building. When she felt she was safe, she checked her wounds and tried to do what she could before feeling it was safe enough to try and make it to a healer. She found out later that, had she waited any longer, she might not have lived. When she was more alert, there was a paladin waiting to speak with her. He was in town, and had heard about her, and the good she had done collecting bounties. Fortunately, she felt, he did not know about her friends, having a feeling he might disapprove of. As she recovered, he took the time to speak with her at length about his Order in an effort to recruit her. 

 

She thought long and hard about it. Time and again, her battle with Igva played out in her mind, and she couldn’t help but feel that there was too much bad out there, too much evil. She realized that she naively believed that most people could be redeemed. Igva had shown her that was not so. Wanting to make a difference, she agreed to join the Order. He welcomed the decision heartily and took her back to Vorith with him, where she was formally inducted into the Order. It had been suggested that, as part of her new path in life, she take on a new name. Giving it some thought, she declared her new name to be Jentrana Dakrio. When she had the time, she wrote a letter to Alanor, and sent it off to his last known location. In it, she told him of her hunt for Igva and the subsequent battle, her near death, and the acceptance of an offer to join the Order in Vorith, and made sure to give him her new name, and instructed him to do the same if he were able to find Isar.

 

Jen has only been a member of the Order for a short time but has already proven herself to be a valuable asset, one most capable of having faith in her cause, and the skill to execute her duties to their fullest extent.