Garrick

Name (with Title): Emperor Caliph Garrick Caranthir Felagund of the Icepanther
Race: Largely elven with small traces of drow & dwarf
Age: 120 years old, though makes a frequent attempt to hide his aged wrinkles beneath heavy black robes, dragon hide gloves; though he has only spent 30 years within the actual land of the living

Brief Background:

I was born in the year 2480 AC to Lord Vercingetorix Caranthir Felagund of the Firebreather and the elven woman Cassandra. My parents both raised me in Korth City (present day Prolix City). We were not powerful nobles, priests, warriors, or even lowly merchants. We were a family of muckrakers. That is as it sounds. Everyday, my father and mother went outside and raked out the muck, and waste products of the farm animals in the Korth City pastures. Once I was old enough, around the age of nine, I could join my father, mother, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents in the pastures doing what the Firebreather clan does best: muckraking. It was dirty, smelly, and always a nasty job. Education was unheard of, the only reason I know how to read and write today is through observing others around me. Oh boy, was I a great little spy!

When I was about the age of ten, I really began sneaking away from the pastures. The job of muckraking was too much. It was just too unbareable, even after just a full year of it for me. The high priest Abaris was the best person to spy on. He could never see me lurking in the shadows listening to all confidential governing conversations or even personal conversations of his. I told my parents stories of things I heard for about the first week, then I stopped because they always shrugged it off as silly child attention-seeking humor. I remember overhearing distinctly that three elven warriors had spotted a large wooden ship on the horizon. When the three elven warriors told Abaris about their discovery, Abaris gave all three a 50% off coupon to visit the local eye healer. I assume the warriors used it, and no word got around of any large wooden ship... for ten years. Ten years from then, a large wooden ship docked on the shores of Korth City. Off the passengers came carrying weapons none of us had ever seen before and within a year, they had run all the elves out of Korth City and taken it for themselves. The siege of Korth City could have been prevented ten years in advance had Abaris the sun goddess worshipper taken charge.

It was then, at the ripe age of 20, that my worship of the sun goddess ceased altogether. By then, the sun was already gone from the land. Korth was a land of eternal night. The moon shone bright at all hours in the dark sky. The "sun goddess" does not exist. If she did, she wouldn't have let all other family members except my father die by the humans' hands. Instead, there is a much darker being in play: the moon god Ranul. He is well acquainted with death. He protects those who follow him. He is my path. Both my father and I found his way and the two of us made a pact out in the old Ollopan Circle to first, spread the way of the moon god to all and to second, establish the Ollopan Circle as our holy ground. The Ollopan Circle was where my father had the revelation from Ranul. It is rightfully cared for by the followers of the moon god Ranul. And so, my father and I quickly found a few more followers, not a lot, but enough to cause a riot in the streets of Korth City/Prolix City. After that day in 2503 AC, all of us were killed, sent to the Underworld I mean. In the Underworld, we quickly carved out the caverns we all see today. When you die, know that had it not been for the followers of Ranul, you would be placed in a timeless void of oblivion with no crystal to return you to life. For a century we stayed there, hiding, waiting for our time to rise again. We have gained some new followers overtime.

Unfortunately, there is a downside to our prolonged stay in the underworld. You see, beings were not meant to live in a place like the Underworld. The Underworld is a place for spirits and lost souls, not beings to survive in. So, the Underworld rejected us, gradually our bodies aged and aged to the point where they will be near death. My father, Lord Vercingetorix Caranthir Felagund of the Firebreather, paid this ultimate sacrifice for the safety and security of the moon god faith. The Underworld did so much of this damage to his body that at one meeting of the faith, my father's aged, crippled body literally collapsed dead on the floor. His skin burst open, the bones fell to the floor in a big pile, the blood squirted everywhere. It was a huge mess and we all were devastated. I do not know for sure what happened to my father's spirit. I'd like to think it remains forever enscribed in the walls of the Underworld, but something deep down tells me it is just.. gone, that it is no longer existant, not in a better or worse place. With his body, his spirit may have completely evaporated from thin air like he never existed. I vow, as the sole high priest of Ranul, that I will not let this ever happen to any other follower of Ranul.

As a direct descendent of the Enad Dynasty of Pylos, I have taken up my rightful role as Emperor of Pylos for a time.

Died early in the year 2604 AC at the hands of his second cousin Phrixus Enad. Now, he resides in the Underworld as its ruler and leader of the Cult of Ranul.

The "Icepanther" part of my name refers to my Ranulian sign. All of Ranul's followers are shown by Ranul in a dream what kind of creature their sign is in his faith. Mine happened to be an Icepanther, the strong, very stealthy leader with a cold heart.