Dyuletin Thaerintauhn

## Physical Description

Dyuletin is one of the D'tarig, a tribal people who live along the edges of Anauroch, the great magical desert of Faerûn. The D'tarig claim to be of Dwarven ancestry and many of them are indeed short and stocky, although Dyuletin is just short.

In fact, many would call him thin and spindly, unsuited for the harsh life of the desert, where a hardy constitution and strong shoulders cary the weight of the tribes.

His skin is a dark olive bordering on what some would call brown, and his hair is the colour of the very sands of the Anauroch. His deep blue eyes make for a sharp contrast, set in a face that holds rather delicate features for a D'tarig. If his arms were not so weak, he'd be the most sought after bachelor of his tribe for sure.

His studded leather armor is worn and sandblasted, but kept in good condition. His weaponry is hidden under his desert cloak, but kept in good condition as well. A man's shortsword and bow are, after all, equal to survival.

## History

### Pre-Rift

Dyuletin, from a young age, was fascinated by the history of the Anauroch. He would always ask for one more story, and for one more tall tale. As he grew up he learned to read and write, finding bits and pieces of the old Netherese tongues and eventually learning Loross, the old noble (and very dead) tongue of the long forgotten empire.

His desire to walk the deserts eventually became his profession within the tribe, becoming a desert walker that would trade with other people of the desert, to bring back the riches his tribe would then sell to others again. A time honoured tradition, and one that made him sought after a bit more by the women of the tribe. A desert walker was a rich man, and a man that would often be away from home, giving his wifes freedom, a great herd and assorted wealth.

However, Dyuletin was more interested in the secrets of the desert, in the ruins of old Netheril and what they could tell him of times long past. This meant his walks were often longer than most, and he would spend most of his wealth on expeditions when he could, to entice outsiders to walk with him to places unknown.

Within the tribe he was thus the poorest, and always coming home with what the others considered useless trinkets and scrap. This earned him the nickname of 'Scrape', something he just simply ignored for what did the tribe know of the great magics of old? If he could ever figure it out, could ever come upon a great staff or magical tool, he would immediately claim the title of Chief and become the greatest D'tarig ever!

Unfortunately he found a book. A very dark book, in perfect condition and once written by a very powerful mage. Upon reading the very first page, the world twisted around him, and he found himself in a very different room. On a very different continent where a dark voice spoke to him of knowledge and of old Netheril, and that temptation was all he needed to give his service to the Archlich....

### Post-Rift

Dyuletin has become a warlock, in service to the Archlich under Osteria. He was given knowledge and power in return for whatever deeds need to be done, and he would be rather unscrupolous in doing so. Whilst not evil in his heart, the ways of the desert still live within him, and these are as harsh and uncaring as the midday sun upon the sand.

After becoming a warlock to the grand old power under the city, he walked for miles through tunnels and rooms. Each room holding a new scrap of knowledge, a new line of Loross text, hieroglyphs and magical information. He did not even notice that the power he had so easily accepted was turning him, slowly, to become more like his newfound patron.

Eventually, he found himself coming out of the darkness and back into the light, in a place far south of Osteria. The dungeon behind him had twisted and changed, and he could not get back in an appreciable distance nor find new information. Thinking on what to do, he wandered and eventually joined up with some other ragtag misfits.

He is sure though, that sometime in his future, the Archlich would call once more....