Corrumil

## Biography

Bright coloured eyes and lustrous hair are the common features of her form. Her appearance changes with the seasons: bountiful in spring, lithe in summer, slender in fall, and delicate in winter but her mind remains sharp and her power true.

Raised in an orphanage among the poorer villages of Shayra, Corrumil was an orphan before her first hour of life. Her mother passed away after childbirth and left her two things: her name and and arcane focus. The young elf grew up unaware of her origins but was filled with wonder for the Weave. When she was older, her natural aptitude with magic caught the eye of Evocation Wizard, Master Ruprecht die Warheit, who took her in to be his apprentice. Being too young to join him on most of his dangerous expeditions, he enrolled her into the prestigious Tarmin Academy of the Arcane.

During her time at Tarmin Academy, she excelled in making useful connections and her magic grew leaps and bounds. Ambitious and beautiful, she was the darling of all her teachers and the top of all her classes. She was a favourite with both students and faculty, building a reputation of being that rare breed of academic who was as talented in making friends as crafting spells. It was a large shock in those marbled halls when she chose to leave for the mercenary lifestyle. Outside libraries and study halls, she has a network of kindly merchants and traders who she helped during her summer days when others went home. One in particular, Phyllis Millbridge, a halfling rare book trader, took Corrumil in whenever her wizard mentor left on quests a younger Corrumil was too untried for. As such, after joining Verifoss, Rare Reads and Titular Tomes is where she is most likely to be found outside headquarters.

Her mentor was well-respected and the foremost expert on evocation magic, often going on adventures to discover long-lost arts and powers in his field. For most of his life, Ruprecht has worked alone in his pursuit for knowledge and power but was captivated by the elven girl’s potential.  He doted on his only apprentice and she flourished under his care for a time. However, he refused to bring her on the more threatening excavations. Feeling stifled, she left the Academy while he was on a prolonged expedition.

An orphan of a refugee race, Corrumil has earned everything she has and worked twice as hard in order to keep it. She believes the only way to master an art or skill is to fully understand it. That search for knowledge compels her to push her boundaries time and time again,

## Chronicles of Corrumil

### It Begins

*Corrumil is seated in the window seat of an exclusive bookstore whose owner is a kindly old gnome that gives her fresh tea and a quiet place to read in exchange for an afternoon of organising the higher shelves. Poor Phyllis was so concerned when she hadn’t shown up for almost a week only to come back bruised and battered.*

*It took a while to reassure the dear that not only was she fine but she had never felt more excited in her life.* It is a wonder she ever thought Tarmin Academy could be enough to satisfy her curiosity. Despite all their intelligence and preparations, she knows very few of her contemporaries would have survived this adventure. But in all fairness, it must also be said not too many would have been foolhardy enough to join a mission with no true backer or writ of approval. Still, the sheer possibility was enough to tempt her anyway. In the humid jungles of Nazathar, she learned more about her companions as they readily shared the pains of their last experience. Gideon, pulled forth by visions and voices of long past; Crowley urged endlessly by a vengeful taskmaster; and Rook, compelled to prove himself again and again. She is unsure if Syc even fully understood the risk he placed himself in. It made her wonder what sort of hold this power had over all of them that they would run into danger like this with no sure reward at the end. But then again, who is she to say? After all, did she not also follow them?

*She looks at the empty vial she kept from the mission. In the Academy, as one of their top students, she never lacked for anything she needed. Striking it out on her own has made such items costly. She hopes she can earn enough coin to find a replacement soon. But it was well-spent. She does not like to think what it might have meant for the team if the potion remained while Syc had not.*

Despite the foreknowledge of who they faced in the last battle, the group was still very inexperienced and it almost cost them their lives. All her cleverness meant nothing when she clung to life. Exhausted and with little magic left, she could have screamed when her last spell flew wide. But it was either they live or die. So, she clutched her arcane focus, and with a blast of red-black flames, her spell landed true and allowed the god the others followed, this Sevendi, enough opportunity to keep her out of the fight. As her companions came back, they made fast work of the last orc shamans. Corrumil had no time to really process as the god took a new avatar and led them away from her first mission. But she knows this will not be the last time she will aid these strange adventurers.

*She takes patient care in the golden calligraphy of her new spells and feels the growing well of power inside her. She then glances at her arcane focus and re-reads the Celestial runes inscribed upon it. She hides it away as Phyllis places a plate of warm sugar cookies unto the table. The gnome’s brows are furrowed and her lips are slightly pursed as the elderly fae begins another round of gentle questioning-coercing*

Is she sure about this whole mercenary business? It doesn’t seem right for someone so kind and pretty as her to be in such a rough world. Why not go back to Tarmin? Surely, she could get a teaching post and, with her smarts and hard work, would be headmistress before the century was over. Or better yet, find a strapping noble lad to marry and have more brilliant and beautiful wee ones like herself? No one could refuse such a becoming lass. It would be such a waste if she were to die out in the wilderness before she could pass on such blessed blood. There are so few of the higher fae in any position to make a difference. Why risk life and limb in such a dangerous profession when all her potential could be safely fostered far away from harm and gore? *Corrumil smiles gently and pats the wrinkled hands of this well-meaning gnome*

**Corrumil**: Don’t fret, dear Phyllis. For all the scrapes and bumps, I have learned so much more in that one trip than Tarmin ever could teach me in half a year. To be perfectly honest, I am rather looking forward to my next campaign already.

### Iron in the Forge, Gold in the Pocket

*Corrumil returns in much better shape and wealth than she did last time. Phyllis is quick to sit her down with some jasmine tea and oatmeal cookies while she checks her over.*

The trip to Dryflagon Forge was more rambunctious than her first trip outside the city limits of Tarmin. This group was somehow both louder and less open at the same time. Kaikoa hailed from a species Corrumil had only read in books. While willing to share her experiences, she had no comparison to bring meaningful detail to their customs and magic. Tad was wise and quick, his order making him deft of mind and hands but hard to pin down for a conversation. Gedger and Swift, a compelling combo, and she is fascinated by the new applications of the arcane he practices in. Kurenai and her echo were formidable in steel and silence, quietly smoking in their travel. And Konrad was busy while they headed towards their mission, preoccupied by preparations, so much so he entered the forge much later than the rest of the group.

**Corrumil:** I am fine, Phyllis. In fact, I did quite well for myself and nary a scratch for the trouble. I fear this mission caused you more pain and anxiety than it did me. *Phyllis clucks her tongue and mutters that bright, lovely ladies didn’t go out and endanger themselves in the wilderness when they could be perfectly respectable right here in the city.*

The forge itself was more sluggish than difficult. In retrospect, they might have asked for a map of the facilities from Aerivandor so the navigation was less cumbersome. Still, they were more hassled by the numbers of enemies than by any real threat they represented. It was harrowing for a few moments when Konrad fell twice. Corrumil is only glad that her steady hands and the reliable ruby red potions were there to get him back up. But Helios, when separated from his kin and cut off from any source of regeneration, fell in a matter of time. It was amusing to see her companions revert to the age-old reputation of dungeon divers as they searched every nook and cranny for some missed treasure or monster.

**Corrumil:** It wasn’t a wilderness but a factory and, besides a near burn once or twice, we came came out all the richer. In knowledge and in coin.

*Phyllis just shakes her head and remains convinced that a settled life is what a clever, pretty face like Corrumil needs. She will keep an eye out among her fellow wealthy merchants or her noble patrons if a younger, ambitious spare or maybe even the rarer independent heir is looking for a wife. All the resources and none of the risk, she claims as she goes back to the backroom to find a rare tome on the elves before the Breaking.*

**Corrumil:** I wager your way would not reward me with half as much satisfaction.

### From the Mouths of Babes

*Corrumil rests in the pleasant guest room of the Gravewood Manor, writing a short letter to Phyllis with her spell book beside her elbow.*

When Aerivandor said this was to get into a minor lord’s good graces, she had expected errands similar to her Academy days. She is used to soothing tempers and finding compromises among the professors and upperclassmen. Never had she suspected this would be the mission she almost lost her life.

*Phyllis, I hope this letter finds you well. I write this to reassure you that I remain in one piece and am excited for what is to follow —*

From the moment they entered the woods, the lands had seem corrupted. She had never heard of Hollows so near a human settlement. Fortunately, they met the Lord Gravewood and Lily. It’s been fascinating to see the companionship between the two. For such a small beast, it was worth a full grown man. The battle while challenging went quickly enough. More than one member has been thinking of “strolling in the woods” in the hope of luring such a beast to their sides.

*I suspect had the group not liked the family so much they might have tried to take Lily or Natalie away. As it was, the lord here is strangely humble and not afraid of hard work. If there is anything that peeves me, his relaxed attitude extends too far when it comes to his parenting and his guard followed his lead. Had it not been for us, I worry what might have happened to the sweet child.*

Katherine is a delight. She is bright but precociousness is usually a shield for loneliness. A busy father and no mother in sight would be difficult for any child but a Tiefling one at that? The guards were lackadaisical in their duties and Corrumil shudders at the what ifs.

*She reminds me a little of myself when I first entered the Academy. Filled with ideas and so open to any audience, I hope her guardians will take the time to listen. She has such clever ideas. They should be fostered properly. As much as I can, I hope to be a help for this little girl.*

The battle was fierce with too many close calls. Perhaps without a child to mind, it would have been smoother but Corrumil cannot mind the injuries she sustained. Despite having no immediate reward, she is excited to see this Great Archive. The knowledge hidden in its depths are a deep enticement to the elf.

*I will not return immediately to the city. I hope by remaining here I can finesse a position into the exploration. I will miss your company and treats but when I return I will hopefully have good news and fantastic stories to share. Until then, please take care of yourself as well as you do the shop. Truly, Corrumil.*

### Chiaroscuro

*Corrumil returns to Tarmin laden with books, scrolls, and gold. Phyllis closed the shop early, so excited (and anxious) to hear of adventure into the Great Archive. She tuts that the elf should have come back after the first mission. If she had to insists on these terrible risks, why not give herself appropriate time to recover in-between*

“I do not regret my choice to remain while the others left. There were things I would not have learnt if I left so soon.” Her convalescence in Gravewood was well-spent. Katherine was quick in thought and tongue and deft with hands and feet. The days passed quickly as she waited for her companions to the Great Archive to arrive. She learned of the tiefling’s daily life and how the townspeople regarded their lord and his heir. It was an almost idyllic time. Helping the child make her dolls resemble her companions was an amusing past time. She painted Crowley’s sword with flecks of glitter to mimic its magic. She attached a sheath of notes into the Phoenix’s doll hands to reflect his studious nature. Flora’s bugbear form had a painted toothy grin and Alexis’ hair was bleached as white as snow. Those light, carefree days gave her the peace of mind she sorely needed for what she faced later on.

*Phyllis shakes her head indulgently. You were always a soft touch. Imagine my surprise when you decided such rough work. See how sweet the child was on you. Perhaps it is a sign you should focus your attention elsewhere. Corrumil smiles wistfully.*

“Who knows where this road will take me? But I have time on my side and I intend to use it to the fullest. There is still too much to discover yet.”

The Great Archive was vast and dark and one can feel the hunger in the absence of sound, expectant and patient. So many must have tried to pry its secrets and lost their lives in the attempt. Underneath the mountain, its monstrous caretakers and undead guards lurked, waiting to claim more bodies for their ranks. Bampf, Alexis, Tessenka, and Crowley were all very competent but the evils of that place stretched them thin. In retrospect, having no cleric to help ease their burden was foolhardy but no had ever come out alive to warn them for what laid ahead. When they were beginning to guess at the horrors the quiet hid, they were all too invested to walk away.

*Phyllis tucks the blanket tighter around Corrumil’s shoulders and settles some chamomile tea with a splash of vanilla whiskey mixed in. Still not too late to leave this all behind and settle down. What is allure of blood and bones and dirt and death? Here you have books and music and tea and comfort at your fingertips. And with a smile here and there, more suitors than you can count would flock to your side and give you anything you desired.*

“I very much doubt that. I am only discovering myself what I want. If I were to cease now, I will never truly know what I am capable of.” The library had taxed her mind and body. If they had let their greed overrun their good sense, it could have easily claimed them for itself. Thankfully, they escaped with their lives and with their quarry. She can only hope the text would provide some insight into the icy elemental plaguing the Guild.

*Corrumil looks at all the rare texts she brought with her from the stocks of the Great Archive. She fully intends to return when another key is available. She stares at her arcane focus and caresses the sigils etched into the crystal. To let all that knowledge fall into obscurity would be anathema to her. She cannot remain silent.*

### Lingering

*Corrumil does not return to Phyllis’ store after returning from Dirramach. Instead she wanders the streets of Solace, needing time away from people to sort her thoughts.*

The mission seemed straightforward. Unprepared noble biting off more than he can chew, unleashes a spirit unto the Material Plane and it wreaks havoc on the foolish upstart and innocent bystanders. She had seen her professors being called to leave in a middle of a lecture to dispel more than one botched ritual or two. But the spirit of Daniel Dandridge, not just the apparition summoned by his son but in what one could glimpse in based on his notes and games and reputation, was so compelling that the absence left when Konrad sent him back to the afterlife was keenly felt. Corrumil can only hope that the son can live up to what the father left but it seems doubtful. She does feel for the young man. David had undergone such a sudden loss and he did love his father dearly. Still, there is none of the steel or sharpness in the son as it was in the father. Perhaps that is why they got rid of the late Councilor. His son would be far easier to manipulate and coerce. After all, had not the father been investigating into possible corruption within the Tide District? Daniel is mired too much in his new responsibilities and deep grief to make headway into that now. By the time he would be ready, they would have already had a head start in covering their tracks. The perpetrators had not conceived the son would be so foolhardy to try and contact the dead on his own. And once falling that, contact Verifoss to settle the matter discreetly as possible.

*Corrumil ends up at the Wayward Vagrant. She finds an empty table in the corner and orders a honeyed mead. She nods her head silently to the waitress who brings the ale and tips her a silver. She keeps her head down and avoids any eyes. She stares into the deep amber depths and ponders*

There is more afoot in Dirramach than what meets the eye. In finishing the job, they have left more questions unanswered.

*She takes a long draw from her tankard* She gained money, scrolls, and a possible connection to the ins and outs of Dirramach’s ruling class. *She places the drink back down unto the wooden table, half-empty* Then why does such a bitter taste linger in her mouth? *She leaves the tavern without finishing her drink. She leaves as quietly as she came*

"Edward Montcroix. Maximillian Pennington.”

The names are heavy on her tongue and follow her to sleep. This will not be the last time she goes to Center of Innovation despite what Venlien wished. Something is stirring in Dirramach and it will not go without a fight.

*Corrumil closes her eyes and can finally rest as she feels the pool of power deep in her soul start to grow once more* She needs answers and she will have them.

### Foretold

*Corrumil has always been curious about the Ivory Hold. Its culture and people, climate and geography so different from what she’s known. And to be sent on an archeological expedition is nostalgic for the student of magic. She remembers when she used to join her mentor on similar excavations. But this empire was so different from what she’d ever seen. The urbane cities of Solace with the marbled halls of Tarmin Academy were so far from the blistering heat and blinding white sands that surrounded the Ivory Hold.*

The uncovered ruins was an observatory and required blood magic in order to enter. With further exploration it seemed dedicated to a Pantheon revolving around the Zodiac and an entity known as the Paragon. Puzzles on the movement of the celestial bodies led us to an enormous archive. That in and of itself was a great find but what was met there even more awe-inspiring. All the compendiums, scrolls, maps, and literature this being had absorbed and embodied. Knowledge was power and this creature of space dust and star debris had eons to learn. Corrumil knew she had to tread carefully. She was in its domain, bound by her own lifeforce to obey the rules of this place. Her blood originated from those Courts where words and requests had power. She could take no more than she gave and what she could lose in order to gain was meagre compared to what so clearly stacked in the shelves of this ancient observatory.

The others sought knowledge of their homes, of changing their forms, of where their destinies laid. And the cryptic answers of Usris rattled in her thoughts long after she left. To know so much and still be bound, what a desolate fate. Corrumil wondered if that was the price the Ram paid for all its knowledge. If that was the sacrifice of all the celestial guardians: to know and yet do nothing but watch. She left the ruins with more than she came but all that was left behind still tugged at her. The Zodiac could not offer her anything she truly wanted. It was only a guardian to what she sought but it was a powerful lure nonetheless. She knew that her journey was one of her own making and there were no greater forces marking her path. Greater powers were at play in Myrias but they could not -- nay, would not suborn her own will and magic.

*Corrumil stares at her arcane focus as the desert moon hangs full and heavy above the tall, cold dunes. The stars twinkle in the inky expanse of unbroken vista, dancing and burning and pulling at the strings of fate. Her arcane focus lights up, hot and brilliant in her hand, enough to hurt but she grasps tighter around the gem. It slowly dies down, the iridescent colors fading into the usual dim glitter she is so familiar with. She smiles and tucks it beneath her clothes, close to her heart. She needs no reminder. She has her guiding light and she will follow where it leads*